Wolffe My Beloved

BLUE TEAM

Leonard Church-

Church positively malfunctions a bit. I'm under the impression that you probably haven't brought up liking him due to his whole past with Tex so one day when everyone is busy with liquor rightfully won stolen from the Reds, he doesn't expect you to grab him by the belt loop of his fatigues to pull him in. His first action is to bitch about it until you're on your toes to kiss him.

For Church, it's been a long ass time since he's been kissed. He malfunctions again. Isn't sure whether or not to kiss back and he definitely knows for sure Tex might kick his ass. By the end of it you're both just kind of standing there awkwardly while Caboose yells something in the background. (This would be a great build up for angst and unrequited feelings I'll be so real right now. You Church lovers are built different I swear.)

Michael J. Caboose-

Caboose has no idea what's going on.

Literally.

You grabbed him and tugged him in and he immediately took it as an invite to start hugging you. Any plans you had about kissing this golden retriever are thrown out the window when he picks you up with a lot of strength (pray he doesn't get too excited and accidentally cracks your ribs) before running around to yell excitedly that he's having the best day ever. Hang on tight. Caboose doesn't do slow running. Caboose goes full speed at all times. If you don't wrap your legs around him or something (because he will let go at some point) you are gonna fall flat on your ass at full speed too.

Later when Tucker tries to explain it to him he just goes 'oh that was nice!'

You have a long up hill battle my friend. Good thing you're already in the army.

Lavernius Tucker-

Tucker knew what you wanted the moment the two of you were alone and he felt that little snag to tug him closer.

Has the most shit eating grin as he leans down to ask you if you have been waiting too long- add on his usual colorful attempts at flirting. Please shut him up by kissing him. Whether it goes further than kissing is ultimately up to you. And I DO MEAN IT IS UP TO YOU. You're gonna have to be the one cranking the brakes here because Tucker is notoriously horny almost all of the time so this guy will GO unless you physically put a hand up and say to take it easy for now.

Tucker: Baby I'm always easy.

You: Oh. I know.

I'm under the firm impression he will take your need for time seriously if you want it. Even if he's horny he's smart enough to know there's a time and place. But if you let him tap that ass it'll be fun! Go for the showers- the noises will echo and piss Church off more.

Agent David Washington-

Now Wash will have one of two reactions.

The first is where he gets immediately flustered. We all know he blushes like virgin in the right moments so once it's clicked in his head his face will go supernova when your lips are pressed to his. Of course he's gonna kiss you back- it's nice and slow and there isn't a care in the world right then for your little corner. (This is based on the idea you two have had a thing but neither of you have confessed yet).

(Which leads us to if you two are indeed together.)

If you and Wash have already done the snog and dance before, when you grab him by the belt loop here his eyes will go dark. You don't kiss him. He kisses you. And it's filthy. Better be glad you two are mostly out of sight cause he's got a hand up your shirt and both of you are moaning while he has you pinned to the wall. It has been years since he has been laid. He is thirsty. Just let him have a sip. Make him beg for it too if you want because he will.

RED TEAM

Dexter Grif-

Grif doesn't know what's happening until your mouth is slotted against his and he becomes aware of where your hand is. To be fair you snagged him on the way to his third nap for the day- dude was a little sleepy but now he's here and the two of you are kissing and he has to prop himself up with an arm against the wall as he figures why the fuck not? Grif kisses back. He hasn't gotten laid in a long while. You aren't the worst kisser ever and he actually likes you enough to crowd you further against the wall when he deepens it.

Neither of you are getting naked in that hallway corner though. No. If this goes further he drags you back to the bunk he shares with Simmons and locks said man out for the ride you're about to take. And yes, you will be on top.

But Grif is gonna be the one in charge the whole time while he lays back to enjoy it.

Richard 'Dick' Simmons-

Malfunctions so hard.

I'm so serious. Simmons yelped when you dragged him in and yanked him down. He has no idea what's going on or what it implies. That kiss is a little lackluster and if his face wasn't as red as his armor from the sheer proximity from when you grabbed him it definitely is during and after that kiss. If you weren't a stronger person you'd be disappointed but something about the way he's blushing and stuttering just warms your heart in an odd way.

Grif still calls him a virgin as he passes you both.

If you keep this up, maybe you'll be able to prove Grif wrong. But not at that moment. Simmons looks ready to keel over.

Franklin Delano Donut-

Goddamn when you did this he swooned hard. Is giggling a little into the kiss once your lips meet and he's bundling you up close to him as you spend a few good minutes kissing like hooligans. You're the one who makes it a little more suggestive but bless Donut's heart he catches on fast and doesn't bother waiting to put you down before the both of you are off to his bunk. Sarge will complain later about Donut going off to do fru fru shit but the hickies he sports makes the colonel quiet up real fast.

MERCS

Issac 'Felix' Gates-

Everyone's favorite asshole knew what you were doing before you managed to touch his belt loop. This motherfucker Looney Tunes'd your ass- he grabbed you by your pants first and hauled you in for the messiest makeout he's probably done since the last time he went to a club. There is biting. It's more of a fight than a kiss. He enough of an asshole to bang you in the hallway if it's empty and leave you to limp to your bunk after. Just rest easy knowing you probably bit him back just as much as he bit you and he will wear those marks on his neck for weeks.

Samuel 'Locus' Ortez-

Locus Locus Locus.

It's hard with him I'm not gonna lie. He is almost ALWAYS in his armor. There are no damn belt loops. It's the armor or the undersuit because this man hasn't relaxed enough to put on something casual in a long time. Your best bet was grabbing him by the hips when he had his helmet off in the locker room and just kissing him right there.

Hunter goes into ‘fix it’ mode immediately. You have to assure him a few times that it looks worse than it is, but he just looks at you with a raised eyebrow, muttering “Sure” under his breath. He gets you to lay down while he applies some lotion to your back, noticing every hitch in your breath. “What is it?” he asks, slowing his hands. “It’s cold,” you reply, and he chuckles. “Put sunscreen on next time.” He did tell you initially, which you’d done. But you forgot to reapply, and that was your fault. You shift your head to the side, giving him a thumbs up. “Will do, Sergeant.” 

Crosshair mocks you a bit about it, tsking and shaking his head. “Really?” he jests as he helps you out of the sun. He pokes your sunburn hard enough for you to wince and mutter “Ow” and swat his hand away. But once you’re alone, he helps you shower and gently wash your body so as not to irritate your skin, and helps put aloe vera and moisturizer on you, especially your back and face. He makes comments about how red your skin is, not because he wants you to feel bad, but because it’s funny, and he finds it amusing when you get defensive about it. It’s a harmless tease, especially after a couple of days when the burn starts to disappear. 

Wrecker is surprisingly gentle as he helps you, his touch lighter than you’d expect, especially after how rough you’ve felt him be in the past... “It looks pretty bad,” he says, not to be mean, just as an observation. And he’s right, it looks really bad. He’s helping you into some new clothes when he asks, “Is there anything else we can do?” You shake your head, cupping his cheek and giving him a warm smile. “Just time,” you reply. He leans down and kisses you, his hands hovering over your hips so he doesn’t accidentally hurt you. He pulls away slightly, grinning widely. “That’s great news. We’ve got plenty of that.” 

Tech lectures you lovingly with your best interest in mind trying to help you for next time. But it feels like he’s listing everywhere you went wrong...because he is. “You should have gone out of the sun an hour ago and reapplied sunscreen, then—” He keeps going for way too long, but only because you don’t stop him. You just stand there with your cheeks stinging your eyes and your shoulders tender, giving him a slightly annoyed look. He notices and slows down, staring at you for a moment. “You know all of this already,” he says. It was rhetorical, like he was speaking to himself, but you look down at yourself, looking back up at him with a silent response: Obviously. “Then we should cool you down with a bath, and apply moisturizer. You should also drink some water.” He’s straightforward, not meaning to be insensitive, but he gets a tingling of anxiety when you’re not urgent enough for his liking. And he’s right, all of these things help, and he’s glad to see you feeling better. 

Echo is pissed. Not when he’s the one helping you soothe the soreness or discomfort, but because of the amount of times he hounded you to reapply sunscreen. “Echo, it’s fine. It’ll go away,” you assure him. He rolls his eyes, brushing his fingers over the redness of your skin. “I told you,” he says matter-of-factly, a slight raise to his eyebrows because, yeah, he did. He’s not mad at you, but he knows this could have been avoided, and he did try. Now he’s got you reapplying aloe vera every couple of hours, just to prove that listening to him helps. 

Jesse thinks it’s hilarious, and you have to stop him from imprinting swear words on your burned, raw skin with his finger. After you tell him to stop, his laughs turn to just a grin, and he nudges his head to a cabinet. “How long were you out there?” he teases, taking a few things from the cabinet. He answers his own question, “Too long.” He laughs again, and you kick his shin. “Sorry, sorry. I know it hurts.” He does a spinning motion with his finger, and you turn, your back facing him. He brushes a kiss over every spot before he puts aloe vera on it, and you relax as the cool gel soothes the stinging. “One last thing about it?” he asks. You shake your head. “Don’t you dare.” He chuckles, but shuts up, no more comments. 

Kix helps you as soon as he sees you. It’s like a sixth sense, knowing when you need him. And he’s super sweet, rubbing the back of your hand as you drink some water. He lets you complain about how much it hurts, and he soothes your dry skin with some medicine and moisturizer. “Thank you,” you say, and he kisses your forehead. “Anything for you. But just for next time, it’s advised that you apply sunscreen every two hours, but it’s better if you do it before then.” You lean up and kiss his lips, no point arguing with a medic, mumbling “Okay” against them, your body tired from the sun. 

Fives raises both his eyebrows in surprise, his mouth half open. “Don’t,” you warn, stripping off your clothes. “Did I say anything?” You shoot him a look and he raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything!” You point a finger at him. “Not a word.” You go into the bathroom and he hears the water running. He has no interest in pointing out the obvious, but there are several other things he’d like to say about your current state. He follows you into the bathroom, but you’re already in the shower. So he takes off his clothes until they’re a pile on the floor and joins you. You feel his arms snake around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. “You look great,” he says, rubbing his fingers against the soap on your skin. You sigh, but a smile turns your lips. “I told you not to say anything.” He smirks, and kisses your shoulder. “I couldn’t resist.” 

Rex jumps to help you, taking the products from your hands. “Here,” he offers, “let me.” You relax against the bed now that he’s taken over your current task. “Tell me the truth, does it look bad?” you ask. He catches your eyes, looking up from his hands. He scans over your body, then puts some gel onto his fingers. “You’re gorgeous,” he answers, and a smile warms your face. Then he adds, “But you’re the colour of the Coruscant guard.” You protest, “Hey!” But he smirks, knowing that he got you. “It’s not that bad, here.” He rubs the gel into your skin, an immediate improvement. “It’ll fade.” You laugh, and lean into his touch. “It better.” 

Cody asks “How did this happen?” as soon as he sees you. You kiss his cheek, then go into the bathroom, answering, “The sun, Cody.” He walks in after you, grabbing you, holding your shoulders steady. “Slow down, let me get a good look.” You let him, even though you know what to do, and how easy this is to fix. It just stings for the moment, and looks horrendous. “Ouch,” he says for you, brushing his fingers over your burnt shoulders. “Do you want to state the obvious, or help?” He ignores you, and looks behind you at the bath tub. “I’m running you a bath.” He lets go and sits on the edge of the tub, turning the tap and feeling for the water temperature. You shrug. “Help it is.” 

Wolffe is angry that there wasn’t anything he did that could have avoided this. You get out of the shower, and he’s standing there, holding your towel hostage. “Let me see you,” he says, not sweetly, but like a commander. “It’ll be fine once I put some aloe on it,” you dismiss, but let him spin you around, inspecting every inch of your body. “Hm,” he hums, his eyes darkening. “Or you could put some aloe on it?” you offer, and his eyes meet yours. He reached over the counter behind you, not breaking eye contact. “Turn around.” 

Fox looks you up and down, crossing his arms over his chest. At first, you think he’ll say nothing, as he begins to walk away from you. You scrunch your brow, almost shocked. Then he looks back over his shoulder and says, “This is what you get for wanting a tan.” He motions for you to follow him, and you do to find him getting you a glass of water. “Drink,” he commands, and disappears into a room. You take a few sips, then he returns with something he begins to put on your burn. “Stay still,” he says as you squirm from the cool moisturizer. Once he’s done, you peck a kiss to his cheek. The corner of his lip twitches as he says “Don’t let it happen again.” 

Mayday chuckles lowly and shakes his head as soon as he sees you, your skin red and tender. “C’mon,” he says, voice gentle as he steers you inside. “Let’s get you some water.” He presses a kiss to your hair, trying to avoid your face which is dry and peeling around your hairline. He holds a cool damp towel to your red skin, holding your gaze. “How’s that feel?” You nod, and he hands you a glass of water, urging you to drink it. “Be careful. I don’t want you hurt, not when we can avoid it, yeah?” You roll your eyes, but nod shortly after. “Yeah.” 

Gregor laughs hysterically when he sees you, at how ridiculous you look. You scold him to help you, and obediently, he does. But he still lets some giggles slip as he rubs aloe vera on your back, but keeps his lips zipped when he faces you to put it on your face. “You look ridiculous,” he tells you while holding back another laugh. “I’m glad this is amusing to you,” you mutter. “Hn, I like it when you’re imperfect.” And that gets you to smile, then frown when he giggles again. “Gregor!” 

Emerie panics at anything involving you, and she’s stumbling over her words, trying to get all the information from you. “It’s just a sunburn, Em,” you assure her. You end up taking her hand, forcing her to look at you. “Which can cause lots of long term problems if you continue to abuse your skin. Cancer, for example. And it exceeds your aging, damaging your skin,” she lists, scolding you. “Good thing I have you, then,” you say. She blushes and goes back to rubbing the gel over your sunburn. Quietly, she adds, “Please be more careful.”  

Fixer would never have thought to have an acquaintance outside his line of work. Let alone a civilian, a natborn. All that matters is his duty to be done as a member of the best commando squad. But when he meets you, he is indifferent. Keeps to himself, quiet, observant. When you start to spill more of your life story, he listens, taking every bit as intelligence perhaps he could use against you for later days as one can never be too careful. It is his upbringing. But thank the stars it never happens. Fixer would let you vent about whatever situation you've landed yourself in, and he'd sit there and listen with the patience of the most zen man in the galaxy. Although he could never talk about anything else but missions and related objectives to you, he shares what he could to make it even.

𝐂 = 𝐂𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬

── .✦ Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?

He does like cuddles! But not touchy. Fixer is observant, so he searches for the best moment to slip into your routine without disrupting. When you're free of chores and deadlines, that's when he'd take your hand and lie both of yourselves down on the bed or couch, your head tucked under his chin and strong arms wound around you with affection. Fixer would then give tiny kisses to your forehead before he finally talks. It could be a question about how your day went, what's for dinner that night and how he wants to help, or a random complaint about Scorch’s excessive use of explosives in the last op. Either of those are followed by answers to your train of questions you'd ask him back. This is his favorite part after a long day where he could get to unwind with you, safe and loved in his arms.

𝐃 = 𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜

── .✦ Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?

At first, doubt settled. As a commando, as a clone, he could never. Fixer believed that the chance of enjoying some kind of life outside war is so slim that the percentage starts with zero and followed by at least seven-digit decimals. But then he met you, and you showed him what it could be like after the war. Alas, until now he stands by his belief. But at least he's met you and you are proof that happiness, even when one soldier knows it could be temporary, should be cherished when time allows him to. Fixer refuses to move in with you until the time is right, but he is terrific at helping you with house chores. When he comes over, he makes sure you sit down and relax while he works.

𝐄 = 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

── .✦ If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?

Between you and him, he'd be the one to bring it up to you first, and knowing Fixer, he'd be blunt about it. He'd bring up every minor inconvenience and troubles he failed to course through, how much it bothered him, and especially how much it burdened him and nearly jeopardized his missions once or twice. As a commando he finds it difficult to distribute his time between you and his duty for the Republic. For him, he is simply not capable of returning everything you've done for him, and you've done a lot more than him, with a lot more effort and a lot more love. Fixer doesn't blame you, but he doesn't blame himself because he knows very well who and what he is. It hurts, but it is a matter of ‘right person, wrong time’.

𝐅 = 𝐅𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞(𝐞)

── .✦ How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?

Fixer is the kind of guy who would take things slow. Patience is a virtue. Slicing is his expertise and with it comes time and effort necessary to get the job done. Fixer believes that nothing should be taken in a hurry unless it's about disarming an active denotator and he prefers to build layers upon layers of trust and reciprocation before sealing the deal. Of course he has little knowledge about marriage and commitment, but roughly it does have the same undertone of living with the same pod brothers for all his life (he thinks so). And with war, it makes things more difficult to even think about settling down permanently with you.

𝐆 = 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞

── .✦ How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?

Delta’s comms expert is all about efficiency. He believes that every problem has a way out, so he doesn't waste time. Say, if Boss gets hurt, he wouldn't go easy applying bacta or jamming hypo into his brother, and he does that without waiting for any dullness and pain to pass first, because time is precious. But with you, Fixer is aware from the start he couldn't treat you the same as he does his brothers. His touches are gentle but sure, making sure you know that he's there for you. Concerned, but not overreacting. Always keeps himself close, but never wanting to overwhelm you with his excessive prodding against your current state of mind.

𝐇 = 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐬

── .✦ Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?

Nope, Fixer doesn't do hugs. At least in public. He ducks quicker than blinking when Scorch tries to do that and still delivers a kick to the poor demo expert at the same time. Actually no, he pushes his brothers away the second they're trying to overstimulate him with physical contacts. Uh uh. Which is why you're special. You have the ‘free to hug my broody commando boyfriend’ card in your pocket at all times, and when he's used to your closeness, Fixer welcomes you warmly like it's all he's ever done throughout his life. His strong body engulfs you. And he is definitely aware of his more-than-normal body heat, enjoys the way you hum contentedly when you're in his arms, safe and sound.

𝐈 = 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

── .✦ How fast do they say the L-word?

He was… slow. You confessed first, and Fixer appreciated it wholeheartedly but he told you he needed time and space to process, to digest. He assessed all kinds of risks that might shapeshift into a big hunk of obstacles later, and he weighed the odds. For all he knows, this is the same as commitment. Fixer is a man of few words, instead he makes sure he conveys his love through his actions. He takes care of you and urges you to share the load with him for the sake of efficiency. He wants to build trust before he could gather the courage to admit that the world wouldn't be the same if he doesn't love you back.

𝐉 = 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

── .✦ How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?

There is a certain limit. He lets it happen at first, observing and gathering evidence. And then, when both of you are alone, he confronts you. And when he acts with all this whirlwind of emotion, Fixer says things bluntly to the point that it'd hurt you, but there just isn't enough courage to tell you how hurt he is, and he doesn't know why. Maybe he's scared, but he doesn't want to admit it. He's borderline possessive, and you know that he is alike to a predator serpent; quiet but deadly. If there is anger begging to be ripped out of his suffocated chest, he wouldn't let it because he's afraid that he'd scare you.

𝐊 = 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

── .✦ What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?

Oh, darling, when Fixer kisses you, the contact is sweeter and softer than candy floss. At first you could sense his remaining hesitation, but you held his hand reassuringly and encouraged him to deepen it. Since then he learns that you like deep kisses as such best, and every kiss is brimming with his love and passion. Fixer loves to kiss you on the forehead when you're cuddling. There's just something about it containing more intimacy than the ones he gives you on the lips. Meanwhile, you have a habit of kissing his dimples. He never says it, but it always makes his heart skip a beat.

𝐋 = 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬

── .✦ How are they around children?

TERRIBLE. Sorry, love. Commandos weren't exactly allowed in the growth tube chamber so Fixer doesn't know jack about babysitting and handling children. Thankfully you keep him out of their reach (funny it's not the other way around), since you jokingly told him once that he 100% would encourage blaster exercise to your little nieces and nephews. Fixer is awkward, but since uncontrolled crying and screaming are a heck of a nuisance, he'd do it if one of them wants some uppies. There will be a day where he'll learn how to properly do these things, but it won't be today.

𝐌 = 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

── .✦ How are mornings spent with them?

Mornings with Fixer are slow and sweet, with every mumbled ‘good morning’ and kisses to your cheek right after he wakes up. When on-leave post-op, you let Fixer sleep in. Usually he'd wake up around 0900 (5 hours later than the time he usually does for squad PT) and head straight for the big homemade breakfast that you cooked. You have breakfast together and do a little planning for the day ahead alongside cups of fresh caf (with him, the planning and execution is very thorough).

𝐍 = 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

── .✦ How are nights spent with them?

In the evening, it's the time where all your excessive energy is to be spent before heading to bed. Most of the time it's full of snarky, cheeky comments with sarcastic retorts. It's not an argument, but it's just how you two talk (you can’t help it since Fixer challenges you most of the time). You tell him not to have late night showers too often. He tells you not to work overtime. You roast his new haircut. He bullies your depleting makeup. Each of them always ends up with a smack from you while he dodges mockingly laughing at you, so you two fit with each other like a goddamn puzzle.

𝐎 = 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧

── .✦ When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?

Fixer fights his own internal struggle whether he wants to tell you things that you… probably should know. It wouldn't probably do much, other than being a good-to-know sort of thing and even worse, adding to an existing pile of burden that you carry. He prefers to wait and see. He observes, calculating the perfect moment while seeing if he is ready and brave enough. But thankfully, when he does, you hear and listen to him. Although perhaps you couldn't relate, you sympathize and you're there for him, and for that he is grateful.

𝐏 = 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

── .✦ How easily angered are they?)

You'd think just because he's a slicer, a job that takes time and extra effort, it would make him the most patient man with well-regulated emotions in the world. No. The title goes to his brother Sev, a sniper, which makes sense. Fixer is easily poked by unnecessary small talk (Scorch is the frequent victim of his beration), but that's just amusing to you. Luckily he's not like that when in your company; knowing his limits, avoiding unwanted thesis, answering your questions as necessary until you ask further about the particular topic.

𝐐 = 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐞𝐬

── .✦ How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?

Fixer treats every, and I mean every, bit of information you sprout out no matter how small like precious war intel he couldn't lose. He keeps this little note in one of his spare datapads which online connection he has totally cut off, and in it are details about his cyare. What you like to eat on a bad day, your concert wishlist, how much sugar you'd like to put in your hot beverages, details about your family members that you've mentioned once or twice, the likes. Every time Fixer brings one of these up, there's this surprised look on your face that he can't help but feel a little victorious inside.

𝐑 = 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

── .✦ What is their favorite moment in your relationship?

For a soldier like him, the answer is humblingly simple. It's the moment when he comes home. When the squad's ship touches down on Coruscant, it's when Fixer knows he's merely hours away from seeing you and crushing you lovingly in his arms. After a few debriefs and showers and tiny warnings to his pod later, he goes to your dwelling with a go-bag in hand. When you open the door, you're immediately met with Fixer’s curls in your face as he instantly scoops you into his bone-crushing embrace, whispering how much he's missed you and how he can't wait to spend the next few days with you.

𝐒 = 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲

── .✦ How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?

Oh he can handle himself alright. Expertly. Single-handedly. He's a commando, as one should expect what kind of skills he's got under his sleeves. Most of the time, Fixer doesn't worry too much about you. As long as you're not on the frontline doing Maker knows what or going off world too often. The soldier side of him takes the wheel when both of you are out on a date. He holds your hand, keeps you close by his side—whether inside a taxi or along the sidewalk, in a diner booth or in the company of his much rowdier brothers. He wants you there with him and he wants to know that you're comfortable at the function. If not, bail. Because your well-being is priority.

𝐓 = 𝐓𝐫𝐲

── .✦ How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

To be honest, Fixer doesn't know much about going on a date. After lopping the question to his brothers and tons of holonet searches later, he decides that asking you is the best way. He wouldn't have to follow other people's standards since what seems to be important is making you happy. And so he brings it up—every date plan, every subtle question about what you want for your birthday. You help him the best you can, even encouraging him to surprise you when he can with such knowledge in his pocket. That encouragement has created several surprises from Fixer, who claims it's merely instincts and initiative, and you'd laugh—blah; he definitely loves to surprise you.

𝐔 = 𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲

── .✦ What would be some bad habits of theirs?

Once Fixer starts heavy tinkering, his spread of tools is ridiculous. Everything's here and there, everything looks like ship spare parts that got blasted away after it got blown up. And in the middle of it all is an equally stupid amount of 6-socket power strips. With it, his comical one-gallon water bottle. Water gallon. Whatever. Hydrate during hours of tinkering or die-drate. You tripped on one of the extension cables and he had the audacity to blame you and your eyesight, which is ironic considering that he's the one wearing glasses while working.

𝐕 = 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

── .✦ How concerned are they with their looks?

Fixer even trusts Scorch to handle scissors and clippers, but you? It's a slow, slow progress, especially since you've almost never cut other people's hair before. But since his hair isn't short, you once told him that you wanted to give it a try. Your boyfriend has ridiculously massive trust issues with other people cutting his hair that he set up cameras so he could see what you were doing. It's silly, really. He's wearing a helmet all the damn time!

𝐖 = 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞

── .✦ Would they feel incomplete without you?

Someone asked him this once, and his answer was a simple, “I’d endure.” And, well, now that both of you have been together for some time… he wishes he could change his answer then. Every time he's away he allows himself a few minutes to think about you and miss your presence. Fixer loves the way you make him feel comfortable and ultimately, whole. He hadn't had any idea what he missed in the past, and now? He's grateful that you want him to stay and let him take care of you.

𝐗 = 𝐗𝐭𝐫𝐚

── .✦ A random headcanon for them.

His longer hair restricts 20/20 vision so most of the time (that means 1) when he's alone, 2) working privately, 3) sans helmet) Fixer would wear this headband to drag it all back. It's plain black and nothing fancy, not even an Aurebesh writing of his designation number. But Scorch (of course it's Scorch) somehow managed to gather a few of his, Sev and Boss’ stipends to buy him multiple headbands so he wouldn't have to wear and wash the same thing all the time. One of them was pink. The demo expert barely managed to duck out of the way when Fixer threw a spanner at his head.

𝐘 = 𝐘𝐮𝐜𝐤

── .✦ What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?

Stop. Talking. If it isn't necessary (except you darling you are Mon Cala opera music to his ears). Fixer loves his moments of quiet, often working with headphones in that loops his favorite synthpop album. That also means he doesn't like to be bothered unless it's about recent missions or new ones that Advisor just dropped on them. Your boyfriend also dislikes that you work excessively without catching a break (snack break, nap break, water break, fresher break—every kind of break), often scolds you on how it'd impact you and make your existing pile of stress worse.

𝐙 = 𝐙𝐳𝐳

── .✦ What is a sleep habit of theirs?

Ah, you don't like this one. Your boyfriend snores. Thankfully not as loud as a kriffing bantha, but every time you're woken up you're worried about his sinuses. When that happens, you journey to his go-bag to grab his meds and a glass of water before nudging him awake. After giving himself a shot of his medicine, Fixer then apologizes for waking you up, and thanks you for helping him. With a soft, sleepy smile, you tell him to go back to sleep, but not before adding another pillow on top of his in order to clear his airway. Fixer falls asleep  fast to your soft caresses on his cheek, and you kiss him on the forehead before turning in, waiting for the morning to come.

It was a strange encounter. Getting to know a civilian out of nowhere without any business intended was not his business. But you were already there faking a friendship with him, drinks in both your hands, and he sensed your intention was to get away from the creep who was chasing your comm code. Boss played along, even closing the distance so you'd feel safe with him. Weirdly enough that you weren't grossed out that he's… y'know, a clone. You approached him first, anyway. And now, Boss is on your speed dial. He'd come down in minutes when he's not occupied, because you're just so vulnerable in his eyes. He's fond of you though, but would never admit it.

𝐂 = 𝐂𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬

── .✦ Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?

It's funny when talking about cuddles. Because Boss undeniably loves to cuddle with you, but you once found out that he'd worry you wouldn't be in a mood for one. You waved him off, but he insisted, because he cares about how you feel. So it is always you first to nudge and throw your arms around him out of nowhere, then he'd swallow you with his weight and warmth. His favorite way is when you two are in bed together, then he'd tuck your head under his chin and pull you close to his chest. You lie there for hours, hearing each other breath in silence, until sleep claims you both.

𝐃 = 𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜

── .✦ Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?

To your surprise, Boss is quite open toward the idea. He figures it'll do him good as a recreational getaway, that he'd have something alike to a home to return from missions to. He'd call it a day and you'll be there to welcome him home, to be his company to spend precious time with. Your boyfriend likes to keep a clean space for the sake of comfort. Ironically, you nag at him when his boots are muddy and stain your carpet (he's annoying that way). He'll let you cook dinner, but he won't let you help wash and clean afterwards, insisting you to relax.

𝐄 = 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

── .✦ If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?

He'd be quiet for a long time. Less words spoken to anyone else talking to him, while his affection for you remains as a ghost inside his head, so much so that Boss develops a fear he'd never get it out—that he'd never be able to get you to leave his head. He'd deliver it to you slowly, gently, all the while fighting his own heart too. But then he decides needs this. He needs utter focus, his duty for the Republic ground itself permanently as a wall between you and him. And that'll be a wall he would never climb over. You both leave each other willingly and thankfully, for him, it is a relief—a fresh start.

𝐅 = 𝐅𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞(𝐞)

── .✦ How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?

His confidence when asked about that particular topic spikes upward. He knows his squad is the best in the entire Grand Army. He knows they'll always return, if not without armor scratches and head concussions. He knows, and is constantly doing his best, to always return home to you. Despite being trained for nasty surprises and unwelcomed violence, Boss desires for consistency the most. Something that'd keep him on his feet for a long run, someone to share his most secret, inner turmoil with. He trusts you greatly, and keeps his mind open for permanently settling down with you one day (he'd be glad to pretend the war didn't happen after that).

𝐆 = 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞

── .✦ How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?

Commandos like him are sharp-minded, often shooting out first-hand opinions in their heads. To be honest, Boss sees you as a fragile being that needs to be constantly watched over. Maybe because of his leadership upbringing to look over his shoulder keeping an eye on his vode, but you are no soldier. Boss tones down his strictness when he's with you. Keeping his eyes, ears, and mind open to what freedom and choices that spout out of your beautiful mouth. And when he holds you, you'd never feel so much safer before. Your beloved exudes security and certainty that you much need. In other words, he's perfect.

𝐇 = 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐬

── .✦ Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?

When Boss hugs you it feels like layers and layers of warm, weighted blankets around your body. You truly enjoy being surrounded by his muscles, the sound of his breath, sweet whispers, and shared silence between you two knowing that you are both here, in the moment for each other. Boss holds you securely in his arms, sometimes lifting you and booping your nose after. He hugs you like he wants you to remember that he's the only one man who makes you feel safe, and that he'll always be there to provide such gentle protection.

𝐈 = 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮

── .✦ How fast do they say the L-word?

It takes a moment to gather his courage because for once in his life, Boss isn't sure what he's feeling at the moment; he cares about you a lot, he volunteers for chores around the house and tells you to take a break instead. And most importantly; he can't see himself leaving you for whatever reason. And once he's certain he wants to stay, he doesn't waste time. The magic sentence is a sure slip, uttered closely and softly to your ear because you are the only person meant to hear it. He holds you tighter, making a promise right there that he will never let you go and always come home to you.

𝐉 = 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

── .✦ How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?

You are his just as much as he is yours—that's true. Boss trusts who you hangout with, no questions asked, just as long as you have fun while being careful of your surroundings and your belongings that you bring with you. But. When some other guy approaches you while he's off fetching some refreshments, it's over for them. Boss holds back… most of the time. He grips your waist and shoves your body flush to his. Sometimes also kissing you shamelessly in front of the unlucky audience. So you see, your boyfriend is possessive that way. And you secretly love it.

𝐊 = 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

── .✦ What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?

You don't know why but your boyfriend never places light, feathery kisses. Maybe it's the longing for someone who may be the only one able to ground him, someone his heart yearns and calls out to. His kisses are firm, certain, real. Boss presses his love onto your lips as if he trades and breathes unsaid words of adoration into you. He is also at the wheel, with the control. He'd start with passion when the signs are read through your body language on how much you want him at that moment, but he won't go there when you don't want to. He loves to nuzzle his nose with yours while staring deep into the soulful pools of your eyes before sealing your lips with his sweet kisses. The gesture always makes you smile and laugh, and he simply loves that.

𝐋 = 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬

── .✦ How are they around children?

Boss would be very careful around them. It's not a secret that he's the one with the foulest mouth, and you always throw him a glare when he's about to start getting frustrated. That one glare shuts him up instantly, and instead finding a distraction, such as trying to get along with your little cousins you're babysitting this time. And they're just… children. So small, so vulnerable, even more so than you. And he knows that women and children are always first in all textbooks about evacuation, so he'd go all the way to prioritize your and the little ones’ safety first. Boss likes to think ahead, so come what may—the sergeant already has five or six emergency plans should anything undesirable happen.

𝐌 = 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

── .✦ How are mornings spent with them?

Both of your favorite holiday is when the both of you manage to align your day-offs—you’d request for a leave at your workplace when Boss gives the word that sounds pretty much like 2-3 days of shore leave. His squad is always needed, jumping from mission to mission, so it's important for you to spend as much time as possible. Mornings are the best. You wake up next to him in bed with the sheets smelling exactly like him, and both of you can't get out of bed for another hour or two. It's always lazy mornings when he's home. Ends up with either of you making breakfast or ordering your favorite breakfast takeouts, showering, and spending more time together. Away from the war for a moment, a small pocket in time of peace and enjoying each other's company.

𝐍 = 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

── .✦ How are nights spent with them?

Although on shore leave, Boss can't really leave his work altogether. He brings his comm and datapads to your dwelling so he could keep up with things. He does this every night. So while you're chilling, lying on the other side of the couch with your eyes glued to your favorite holoseries on the screen, Boss is on the other side with a stack of his own devices. You prop your feet across his thigh, and while he's reviewing reports of current happenings he has one hand absentmindedly massaging your foot. Sometimes you feed him your snacks and offer him the straw of whatever drinks you have. Just some enjoyable evening on a regular basis.

𝐎 = 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧

── .✦ When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?

You're already aware from the start that clones keep to themselves. They could be very secretive and internal, rarely showing pride for their own interpersonal culture. The best part is you understand. You gave Boss time once you realized your relationship is heading forward, until he's ready and comfortable to tell you piece by piece about his own life. He starts what he's comfortable with the most—the gruesome aspect of his job. Then it moves on to his squad members, his brothers, one by one. Then he starts revealing what he likes, what he likes about you, what his feelings are at some moments. Boss, as a squad sergeant, excels at compartmentalizing. Knows what and when to say things. And again, the best part is that you understand that other side of him.

𝐏 = 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

── .✦ How easily angered are they?

Boss isn't the most patient man in the world, but you take the positive side of it—you make it a means to keep yourself going, to keep up with the pace that you've set. Your boyfriend is well aware that you are not a soldier, but it's just that sometimes… he forgets. The squad sergeant pretty much counts. Three is the limit. He wants results, but you're having too much in your hand at the moment. Some of these moments cause arguments, but it's nothing that you both can't resolve. Apologies pour from his lips as soon as he sees your scowl and pained gaze, a combined result of his impatience. At least then he helps you wade through your remaining chores.

𝐐 = 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐞𝐬

── .✦ How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?

He… might or might not have Fixer to run a background check on you… just so he knows he's not fancying a gang member or a corrupt politician or something, y'know? He reads your file, and he keeps the information received in mind, and mentally adds your quirks and likes and things that you despise inside his head. So Boss needs to learn about you, and he learns intensely. He keeps these things stored, especially the things that you like to have and do that makes you happy. If you're happy, he's happy too.

𝐑 = 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

── .✦ What is their favorite moment in your relationship?

It's that one time when you go through his go-bag and try on his various shirts to parade in front of him like you're a fashion model on a runway. His decompressed bodysuit top runs to the middle of your thigh because of the size difference between your figure and his much larger one. His PT jumpsuit that looks sagged and ridiculous on you that you trip over your own foot and catch yourself before you faceplant. Even his secondhand obscure underground heavy metal band shirt that gives you a silhouette of your curves really well. Boss has never laughed and felt warm that much before. You're such a gift to his entire life.

𝐒 = 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲

── .✦ How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?

When it comes to protectiveness, it's a matter of his obligation to you. He needs to protect you. He's more capable than you are. He sneaks out of HQ with his DC-15s sidearm just in case something bad happens at your house (you yelled at him the first time you found the pistol sitting on your caf table). And as you know, Boss is also capable of handling himself in a high-stress environment so even without his armor, he's not afraid to jump and usher you to safety right away. The only way that he would be relieved and safe is when you are safe.

𝐓 = 𝐓𝐫𝐲

── .✦ How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?

As much as he loves to help, your boyfriend is still foreign to domestic workload like house chores. You still have to teach him sometimes, but luckily he catches on quick—perks of being a highly-adaptive clone (you're grateful for that so you only get to tell him once and he does it for you). Boss does a lot of research too (including asking for inputs from his brothers, a brainstorm session which, strangely effective). There are fresh flowers in your vase every time he comes home from another mission, new dinner recipes he wants to try (with your supervision so he won't implode the oven). All those attempts are to see you smiling and content with him around—that way he knows that you truly want him to stay in your life.

𝐔 = 𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲

── .✦ What would be some bad habits of theirs?

Sometimes you'd be awake in the middle of the night to find your boyfriend still thumbing through his datapad, twirling a stylus between his fingers proofreading his squad's reports for the last mission and reviewing compliance and acquisition forms for the next one. A surprising violation of bedtime coming from a disciplined soldier. You come over and beg him to come to bed but when he refuses you plop into his lap to make him as uncomfortable as possible, just to annoy him so he'd sleep. But eventually you fall asleep, and Boss falls asleep like that, both of you on the couch until morning. Just like a match made in heaven, both of you wake up with sore necks and backs.

𝐕 = 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

── .✦ How concerned are they with their looks?

Boss gives his stubbles to grow on his face for three days before shaving it off. Five days max if he's too preoccupied. He once grows a beard after a month-long mission and he ironically hates how it feels on his skin. He keeps his hair short but long (and voluminous somehow) enough for you to run your fingers through—he loves when you do that as you both are cuddling. The greys on the either side of his head give him a serious experienced leadership look (he secretly likes it), and so he keeps it. Not to mention your fingers are always tracing them experimentally when you both are relaxing together. Figures you like them—Boss doesn't dye them over.

𝐖 = 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞

── .✦ Would they feel incomplete without you?

There hasn't been a day gone by not thinking about you when Boss and his squad are out there. Without you—of course, since you are safe and sound back home, away from the horrors of war that he's facing on a daily basis. But your beloved can't help but think sometimes; what if he got killed in action? You are always so sweet, his own little chirping porg—you would terribly miss him. So you see, he always thinks about you. He simply cannot comprehend the idea of being alone now that he knows you like the back of his hand. Although yes, he would still operate like how a soldier operates, but surely it would be different. No one to come home to. No more warm welcome and hearty cooked meal waiting for him—just the coldness of his barracks and what's waiting for him next.

𝐗 = 𝐗𝐭𝐫𝐚

── .✦ A random headcanon for them.

Very, very random but Boss would definitely make a goal of his life to learn how to sing and play at least one musical instrument. Something odd and foreign for clones to learn, but commandos like them are awarded with more free will than those reg troopers. Exercising free will, learning art, appreciating the little things that matter. One wouldn't be surprised to see the Delta sergeant on his guitar strumming and humming away. He does this once in a while, only when they're on a particularly lengthy shore leave. On the regular, Boss sticks to his stoic leadership persona who wants nothing but flawless execution and coming home safe and whole.

𝐘 = 𝐘𝐮𝐜𝐤

── .✦ What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?

Let's just get this straight; Boss despises people who glorify words more than action. That includes nasty politicians for sure. As a leader himself he'd love to see more immediate action with succinct yet effective planning. That also applies to situations such as when Scorch and Sev said they would quit with the pranks and the sergeant found out he wouldn't, then to the sparring mat they'd go. He'd also avoid the most mundane process of an assignment—but when trying his best, he offers to share the load to anyone else available.

𝐙 = 𝐙𝐳𝐳

── .✦ What is a sleep habit of theirs?

You either find this cute or annoying but you always wake up with Boss having his arm around you. A heavy weight that is, of course, but definitely not heavier than his leg thrown over your own. You physically have to fight his sleeping form when you have much earlier morning chores to attend to. Sleeping commandos are dead weights and your boyfriend is no different. You often have to give up waking him gently and shove an elbow into his ribs instead (he tackled you under him one time out of reflex, and it got your heart racing dangerously (no, seriously) that it spooked the kriff out of you), but you just don't know when to actually give up.

At first he’d be like “I am absolutely not supposed to have a crush on my CO.”

Then he’d think of Darman and Etain and be like “Kark it. Why not!?” They’re making it work, why couldn’t he?

Does not try in the slightest to hide the fact that he’s got it down bad for you. You know, the other Deltas know, Omega Squad knows, Vau knows. Everyone knows who is around you two for more than five minutes.

Super quick to jump in and help you do literally anything. The task could require zero Commandos, but you would still have help from Scorch. You need to restock your pack? He’s already unzipping it and slipping in water and rations and anything else you might need. You have to put a small crate on the ship? He’s got it in his hands before you can even reach for it and asking where you want it.

Doubles down on jokes to try to get you to smile. He hates seeing you stressed or upset. If he can get you to smile or laugh, his day automatically improves too.

Sev gives him hell about his crush all the time. The moment you come in the room, Sev is automatically ribbing him through their helmet comlink. You may not can see Scorch’s blush (which has him thanking the Manda for the buy’ce) but you can feel it through the Force.

If you do return his feelings, you’ve got one of the most loving and faithful boyfriends in the entire galaxy.

He loves watching you in action, but he is definitely trying to show off. He may or may not have been practicing a few trick shots to impress you. 

Jusik tries his best to make sure you get assigned missions with Delta Squad, but when you’re not - 

You two comm each other as much as possible, but it can be difficult when you’re on different planets in two different war zones. Neither of you want to be a distraction for the other. But when you do get to see each other or hear each other’s voices, it floods you both with relief knowing that you’ve both survived to fight another day. 

On those comms, you make plans about all the things you want to do when you see each other again. You make plans for a future without war. A future where you choose him over the Jedi Order and run away to do whatever either of you want. You know a lot of these plans will never actually happen, but it gives you both a time to hope and pretend like you’re just normal people for once.

Scorch knew being away a lot would be hard, but it makes things even harder when he has to worry about you in battle far away. He seeks advice from Darman on how to handle the anxiety of it.

He was okay with keeping your relationship secret for a while. It was almost fun. Sneaking around and trying not to let other Jedi (minus Jusik and Etain of course) know that your relationship was more than a professional one.

As your relationship grew and became more serious, the secret became less fun. He would see civie couples holding hands. Atin and Laseema going on dates. He wants to do that too. He’s so proud to be yours and he wants everyone to know. Maybe he’s been around Fi too much.

TBB

Hunter:

Generally okay with touch and physical affection but prefers predictable touches, especially if his senses are bothering him/overwhelmed

Loves when you comb your fingers through his hair, he finds it really calming/soothing

Also loves when you trace his tattoo (which I firmly believe goes down his entire side), especially the portions on his chest and back

Likes when you really lightly drag your nails along his skin when you’re cuddling, it makes him shiver every time

Tech:

Mildly touch-averse and generally prefers close proximity to overt physical affection

When he does feel like being touched he likes kinda passive contact like sitting with your sides/arms brushing or if you hook your ankle around his under the table

Probably his favorite thing is when you massage his hands and knuckles when they cramp up

Wrecker:

Touch is obviously a super important way Wrecker communicates, especially when it comes to care/affection, and he's very receptive to really any contact you initiate

Craves full body touch, like you completely draped over him in bed or making sure you're totally pressed against him when you hug him. Loves when he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. Wants you to hold him as tight as possible

Chest rubsssss

Crosshair:

Used to be one of the better ones with touch but has a complicated relationship with it post-Tantiss. Has some physical trigger areas that he prefers you avoid, especially his neck

Prefers more subtle affection like holding his hand under the table or slipping your arm around his waist when you’re sitting next to each other and no one can see

Also really likes quick little gestures like a brief peck on the cheek, because it's a quick little absent reminder you love him that doesn't draw a lot of attention

Lovesss when you pull him closer by his hips when you wanna hug him or kiss him or whatever

Echo:

Simultaneously really touch-starved and touch-averse without entirely realizing it. Tenses up at touch a lot even when he's fully expecting it. Likes softer, minimal touches esp when he's still kinda adjusting to regular physical affection

The skin/seams around where his cybernetics are attached are really sensitive and he usually prefers if you avoid touching the areas, though sometimes he likes really really soft kisses there

Honestly finds just like basic, straightforward hugs really comforting. Doesn't matter if they're light and gentle or super tight, he just likes being held

Commanders

Rex:

Pretty touch-starved but kinda represses it, most used to practical touches like placing his hand on someone's shoulder when reassuring them or gripping someone's elbow to steady them. Really melts into affection in private though

Really likes when you lazily trace shapes along his skin with your fingertips or when you trace along his muscles

Also after he takes his armor off he's often sore where the armor seams are so he likes when you massage/kiss those places

Back scratches

Cody:

Naturally pretty affectionate with you and comfortable with touch, usually preferring smaller touches unless he's feeling particularly needy or stressed

If he's working he likes when you come up behind him and wrap your arms around his neck, letting him lean back and rest his head against your shoulder

When he hugs you it's always very tight, wraps both arms around your waist and pulls you as close as possible as he buries his face in your neck

Secretly likes being the little spoon

Wolffe:

Generally guarded about touch and when he initiates he's very assertive about it, but honestly he kinda almost prefers when you initiate

Goes very weak for really firm neck and shoulder rubs, just carries SO MUCH physical stress and I feel like he's constantly tense lol

Really likes when you trace his scars but he pretends not to. If he's feeling particularly tired and he gets a little softer though he'll lean into it and his eyes go all half-lidded

Fox:

So insanely touch-starved to the point where like even when you're actively touching him he always needs more

Lovesss having you in his lap esp if it's late and he's stuck working on reports and stuff

Also likes to rest his head in your lap and have you play with his hair/scratch his head, gets annoyed whenever you stop and looks up at you all irritated

Thorn:

Pretty naturally affectionate with you, likes casual, easygoing, frequent touch

Honestly really likes hand holding and always laces his fingers through yours whenever you're near him

A big fan of quick passing affection, like if you nudge your shoulder against his or squeeze his hip when you walk past him

Bly:

Not super naturally inclined to initiate touch on his own but craves it very intensely

Loves a long, quiet forehead press, usually pecks your lips or cheek before pulling away. It feels really intimate and he just really likes that

Likes lifting you up tbh esp if he hasn’t seen you in a while he lifts you up a lil when he hugs you and rocks from side to side

Bacara:

Forcefully represses his need for affection to the point of very mild touch aversion and genuinely believes he doesn't need it

Likes when you touch his shoulders. Like if he kisses you and you clutch at his shoulders or if you pick up that he’s not doing well and reach out to give his shoulder a lil squeeze he really likes it

Secretly loves when you cuddle with him in bed, your head on his chest and a leg draped over him. Pretends to be asleep every time though so you can't call him out

The bicep hold™

Neyo:

Tends to be a little detached and kinda uncomfortable with overly soft or gentle touches, prefers to find excuses for touch through practical things

Likes when you adjust his armor for him, it gets you close to him while he can pretend it's just practical lol

Secretly really loves if you grab onto his arm and hold onto him if you're like surprised or scared or excited

Gregor:

Expresses himself through affection with you pretty frequently and seeks out touch from you a lot

Likes hugging you from behind and loves when you do the same

Really likes when you give him little kisses all over his face, it makes him laugh and instantly puts him in a good mood

Likes lying with his head on your chest and listening to your heartbeat esp while he’s falling asleep

Mayday:

Pretty stoic about his own needs but is really gentle and soft when it comes to you and he tends to initiate touch pretty frequently. Mildly touch starved

Really likes when you stroke his hair or beard, your fingers combing through his hair or scratching lightly at his jaw disarms him and he just leans into your hand with a quiet sigh

Likes when you rest your head in his lap, he often then traces over your features really lightly with his fingertips, just kinda admiring you

Your voice echoed through the bridge like a beacon, issuing orders that could mean the difference between survival and annihilation.

"Helm, adjust course to bearing zero-three-zero. Gunnery, prepare for incoming Separatist fighters. Medical teams stand by for casualties."

Day in, day out, you were the unbreakable pillar.

The one who kept the ship running like a machine amid the Republic's crumbling front lines.

But beneath that polished veneer of authority, everything was taking its toll on everyone.

The war had no mercy for everyone.

Especially to a mere human like you.

Sleepless nights blurred into hyperspace jumps, reports of fallen troopers stacked higher, and the constant pressure to outmaneuver an enemy that seemed infinitely impossible each day. Frustrations simmered beneath your skin. All from the same purpose. The bureaucratic red from Coruscant that delayed reinforcements, the moral quandaries of sending good men to their deaths, the isolation of command where every decision rested solely on you.

Your head throbbed from staring at holographic star maps, your muscles ached from standing rigid on the bridge for hours, and there were moments—fleeting, dangerous ones—when you wondered if you could keep it all together. A single crack in your composure could ripple through the ranks, eroding morale faster than a hull breach.

However, you refused to let it show.

In the eyes of your crew, you were untouchable.

Crisp uniform buttoned to the collar, posture straight as a durasteel beam, voice steady even when delivering grim news.

“We press on.”

You'd say to your men, masking the exhaustion with a nod of encouragement.

“Good hunting.”

You'd wish your pilots, watching them embark on another chase amongst the stars.

“Fall back.”

You'd surrender through gritted teeth, once you knew the lives of others were more important than finishing a mission.

Plo Koon often commended your resilience, his mask hiding any hint of concern, but you knew better than to confide in anyone. Admirals didn't break, they commanded. So you buried the stress deep, channeling it into sharper tactics, longer shifts, anything to maintain the image of invincibility. After all, in this war, weakness was a luxury you couldn't afford.

Until, it was offered to you.

It was on one evening, after a grueling skirmish with a Separatist blockade, that you finally allowed yourself the small reprieve of retreating to your quarters.

The corridors of the Triumphant were dimly lit, the hum of the engines a constant companion as you walked alone, your boots clicking softly against the deck plating. The day's frustrations lingered like smoke. Another batch of clone troopers lost, supply lines stretched thin, and the gnawing doubt that tomorrow would bring more of the same.

You rolled your shoulders, trying to shake off the tension, but it clung stubbornly. A knot between your shoulder blades that no amount of deep breathing could loosen.

That's when you heard the footsteps behind you—deliberate, armored, unmistakably clone-issue.

You turned, expecting a late report or some minor crisis, but it was Commander Wolffe.

The leader of the Wolfpack stood there, the distinctive gray markings etched like scars across his helmet and armor.

The sight always took you back every time. Even though you've seen him countless of times, you were always surprised to see him so… daunting. However, you tried not to let it show then. Especially now, standing five feet away from each other, to let him know how much his presence affected you.

You and Wolffe had always shared a professional respect, forged in the fires of shared battles. He admired your tactical acumen, and you trusted his unyielding cause to the mission. But interactions were rare—brief nods on the bridge, curt exchanges during briefings, post reports after missions alongside his general. He wasn't one for small talk, and neither were you. Though, you always noticed how much he lingered every time.

Of course he would, he was an officer performing his duty. But sometimes, it didn't feel like that was the reason. On some days, he'd stand closer to you. Far too close while you direct an assault on a holomap, feeling him peer over your shoulder. Then, there were those days where you felt watched even when you didn't see anyone directly looking at you—only to catch his gaze seconds away before he averted them.

His praises were reserved, though the weight they carried was much more significant.

“Great work, Admiral.”

“Thanks for getting us out of there.”

“Couldn't have done it without you.”

“Well done again.”

You shouldn't see him in any other way than a fellow commanding officer. You shouldn't even think about him. What it would be like to get closer. To know him better. To strip him off of his armor and sink your nails beneath the layers. You wanted to know more about him, the fierce and infamous Commander of the 104th battalion.

But you knew there was a line you shouldn't cross.

So you kept your attraction concealed under the pretense of admiration and respect. But deep down, you itched to dance around the line and see if he would do the same.

Wolffe finally removed his helmet with a hiss, revealing his scarred face, the cybernetic eye glinting in the low light.

“Admiral,” He greeted, his voice gruff but not unkind, falling into step beside you without invitation. “Long day.”

You nodded, keeping your expression neutral. “Aren't they always? Something I can assist with, Commander?”

He glanced sideways at you, his good eye narrowing slightly. “You've been pushing hard. Harder than usual. The men notice. I noticed.”

A flicker of surprise cut through your fatigue, but you masked it quickly. “Appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. Just heading to finish up more reports.”

“This late at night?”

“Yes, my job isn't finished until—”

“With all due respect, Admiral. You need a breather.”

You paused at the door to your quarters, inputting your access code while processing his words.

A breather?

It sounded vague, almost out of character for the stoic commander.

But there was something in his tone—earnest, almost protective—that made you curious. The stress was a heavy cloak tonight, and the idea of any relief, even undefined, was tempting.

The exhaustion, the pent-up frustration, the rare spark of connection with someone who understood the burden.

You trusted him, as a comrade and as a respected officer. Your relationship has always been based on mutual understanding. The weight of your positions, the expectations from your subordinates, the image of an unshakable leader. You two had more similarities than you would've thought. And perhaps, that was the reason why you were considering his suggestion. Maybe he knew a way to forget the responsibilities even for a night.

You hesitated in the doorway of your quarters, choosing your next words carefully.

“I'm not sure what you mean,” You admitted, watching him closely. “I can rest once I'm done.”

Wolffe grunted, a sound that could mean agreement or skepticism. “You don't just need rest. You need to let go. I can show you how if you'd let me.”

His offer of a “breather” had sounded too vague for your liking. Though, you knew he didn't mean any harm by it. Perhaps a quiet conversation over a mug of caf, or sharing war stories to vent the day's frustrations.

For a moment, the two of you only stared at one another. Neither moving, nor breaking. For all the years you've known him, you knew him to be like an immovable stone wall. It was one of the many things you've come to admire about him. He might've been feared for his stony facade, but you saw past it all and recognized something deeper.

He cared for others, especially his brothers and his general, more than other people thought.

You saw it numerous times how he'd risk his life to defend them. To fight for them. He was arguably a perfect example to lead a battalion. Of course, there were notable commanding officers from other legions. Like Captain Rex from the 501st or Commander Cody from the 212th.

But Commander Wolffe led not with directness or strategy.

He led with unwavering loyalty.

To the Republic. To his brothers. To his general.

You trusted him with your life, and maybe you could trust him with this too.

Finally, you released a breath.

“Very well,” You pressed on the panel, feeling his stare stuck on your back. “Come inside, Commander.’

The door sealed shut with a soft whoosh, enclosing the two of you in the dim glow of your private space. The room felt smaller with him in it, his armored form a solid presence amid the sparse furnishings. Your bunk, a small table, the viewport streaked with hyperspace stars. Nothing special. Just a standard design similar to all the other quarters with minimal personal belongings and decorations.

"Make yourself comfortable," You waved a hand, trying to sound casual as you shrugged off your uniform jacket, folding it neatly over the chair. Underneath it, a simple black tank that barely protected you from the cold. And unbeknownst to you, from Wolffe's sharpening gaze.

Meanwhile, your mind raced at the possible scenarios.

What did he mean by letting go?

A deep conversation?

Some meditation technique?

While you pondered over the situation, you didn't notice the way his eyes tracked you.

Wolffe watched you with that piercing stare, his cybernetic eye glinting faintly as he unclasped sections of his armor, setting them aside with methodical precision. The plastoid clattered softly, revealing the black bodysuit beneath, taut over his battle-hardened frame.

You faced him again, blinking in shock to see him in the state of undress. Somehow, without his armor in the way, he appeared even broader and more commanding. The black fabric hugged his arms and thighs perfectly, his shoulders almost touched the sides of your door, and when he rolled them back—you almost cowered at how taller he looked.

Perhaps you were just more exhausted than you thought that you were imagining him looking larger than usual, or perhaps you were simply too deprived that you were admiring his physique in inappropriate ways.

But when did he—

No, why did he remove his armor?

You cleared your throat, catching yourself from staring. It was too late, he noticed it.

“Commander?”

“Yes, Admiral?”

“Is there a reason why you… removed your armor?”

“Yes, there is.”

He stepped closer, his hands—now ungloved—reaching for yours.

“No more orders from you tonight,” He murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. “I'm taking charge for now.”

Before you could process or protest, he guided you backward until the edge of the bunk pressed against your calves. His touch was firm, authoritative, mirroring the command you wielded on the bridge.

He sat first, pulling you down with him, his hands sliding to your waist, unbuckling your belt with surprising deftness. Without warning, he hooked his fingers into your waistband and commanded.

“Take them off.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want them off. Now.”

That time sent shivers down your spine, hearing the domineering control laced with the roughness of something else. Rarely did he speak to you with it, but you've heard him use it to others. You'd be lying if you said you haven't thought of it before, how it would feel to be on that end of his order, hearing his growl and gravelly bark as he spoke low in your ear.

“Do you trust me?” His fingers traced your side, grazing your hip up to waist. “We can stop if you want to, Admiral. Make me leave this instant.”

No, you didn't want him to leave.

He promised you a breather, and you were going to get it.

Against your better judgement, you chucked off your boots and proceeded to remove your pants—along with your standard issue underwear after he muttered that one too—leaving you bare from the waist down.

You paused, unsure what to do next. Until he suddenly moved, pulling your tank top off from your body in one swift tug. Then, you were finally bare. The cold nipped your skin, though the heat you felt within your veins refrained you from shivering. Still, you wrapped your arms around your chest as you looked away.

What is happening?

You clamped your thighs together, confused and flustered at the rapt intensity of his gaze.

“Commander, what are you—” Your words cut off as he lifted you effortlessly, positioning you above him as he lay back.

One moment you were straddling his lap, confusion mingling with a spark of curiosity. The next, he was shifting you higher, your knees bracketing his shoulders, thighs pressing against the sides of his face.

Your hands shot out instinctively, palms flattening against the cool durasteel wall for balance as you hovered there, heart pounding.

This wasn't caf. This wasn't conversation.

What in the Sith hells is he doing?

His hands gripped your hips, steadying you, pulling you down until you felt the heat of his breath against your core.

“Relax, Admiral,” He smirked at you, his tone commanding yet reassuring, lips brushing your inner thigh. “Let me take care of you.”

And then his mouth was on you, tongue delving with purposeful strokes—exploring, teasing, unrelenting.

The shock of it arched your back, a gasp escaping your lips as pleasure surged through you like a hyperspace jump. You hadn't expected this, not from the stoic commander whose face was usually hidden behind a helmet, whose words were sparse and tactical. But here he was, devouring you with a hunger that matched the intensity of his battlefield prowess.

His fingers joined in tandem, calloused from years of gripping blasters, now slipping inside you with expert precision—curling, thrusting in rhythm with his tongue.

The “breather” he'd promised unfolded in waves of sensation, each lap and suck pulling the stress from your body like venom from a wound. The knot of tension in your shoulders unraveled, the frustrations of command dissolving into moans you couldn't suppress. Your thighs trembled around him, muscles clenching as he worked you higher, his good eye locked on yours when you dared to glance down, a silent challenge.

Surrender.

The wall was your anchor, fingers digging into the unyielding metal as you rocked against him, chasing the release he coaxed from you.

“Wolffe,” You whimpered, jolting at a sharp suck on your clit. “Wolffe, wait—we shouldn't—”

Wolffe didn't falter, his grip ironclad, tongue flicking over that sensitive bundle of nerves until stars burst behind your eyelids—not the cold void of space, but something warm, explosive. Slowly, the heat coiled low in your stomach. Every ravenous lick, every depraved suck, every obscene groan that reverberated below shook your core until your mind blanked.

He said you needed a breather.

But you really can't breathe right now.

You came undone above him, body shuddering, a cry tearing from your throat that echoed in the confined space. He didn't stop immediately, easing you through it with gentler licks, fingers slowing until you slumped forward, breathless and spent. For one last measure, he bit on the inside of your thigh to leave a mark. Something you'd see every time you stepped into the sonic shower, something that would always remind you of this night.

Only then did he guide you down, settling you beside him on the bunk.

His face glistened, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Better?” He asked again, echoing his earlier question, but this time with a hint of smugness.

You nodded, still catching your breath, a laugh bubbling up unexpectedly. “That… wasn't what I expected.”

But it looked like the night was far from over.

Your breaths came in shallow pants as you tried to reassemble the fragments of your composure.

The commander shifted beside you, his weight dipping the bunk, and you felt the heat of his body as he propped himself up on one elbow. His cybernetic eye caught the faint light from the viewport, giving him an almost predatory gleam.

“Not done yet,” He rumbled, his voice rough with lingering desire.

He moved with the fluid grace of a soldier, his hands—strong and unyielding—grasped your hips and flipped you over in one smooth motion.

A surprised yelp escaped you as you found yourself on your stomach, the cool sheets pressing against your heated skin.

Wolffe settled between your legs, his thighs bracketing yours, the solid warmth of him a stark contrast to the vulnerability of your position.

“Gonna thank you properly now,” He murmured, leaning over you, his breath hot against the nape of your neck. “For everything you've done. Holding this ship together, keeping us alive.”

His gaze met yours over your shoulder, glinting with something dangerous, a promise that twisted “thanks” into something far more carnal.

You swallowed, a mix of anticipation and lingering confusion swirling in your chest. But before you could voice it, his hands were on you again.

He maneuvered you with deliberate care, propping your knees up beneath you, guiding your back into a deep arch. One large hand splayed across your spine, pressing just enough to hold you in place, while the other trailed lower, teasing. You felt the blunt head of him nudge against your folds, slick from your earlier release, and a gasp tore from your lips as realization hit. This was his idea of gratitude—raw, unfiltered, claiming.

“Wolffe,” You called out, the word a half-protest, half-plea, intending to remind him of the lines you shouldn't cross.

The professionalism that defined your roles.

But he didn't give you the chance.

With a guttural growl that vibrated through his chest and into yours, he pushed forward, entering you in one slow, torturous thrust.

The stretch was exquisite, bordering on overwhelming, filling you completely and scattering every coherent thought like debris in an asteroid field. Your fingers clutched at the sheets, knuckles whitening, as he buried himself deeper, his hips meeting yours with a rhythm that built like an incoming storm.

Then, just when you thought that was enough, he surprised you even more.

“I've been thinking about this since the day you stepped aboard as our Admiral,” He confessed, his voice strained but steady, punctuating each word with a deliberate roll of his hips. "Watching you on the bridge. Hearing your voice in comm channels. Mid-briefing, during drills, meetings. I'd imagine you like this, under me, letting go."

His hand on your spine slid up to tangle in your hair, gentle yet possessive, as he thrusted harder, deeper, the confession spilling out like long-held secrets.

“Fantasized about breaking that perfect composure, hearing you moan my name instead of barking commands.”

You tried to focus on his words, to process the vulnerability in his admissions—the way this stoic clone commander had harbored desires that mirrored your own hidden cracks.

But it was impossible.

Each drive of his body into yours sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, erasing everything but the sensation of him, the fullness, the friction.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, syncing with his growls, the room filled with the sounds of skin on skin, the creak of the bunk, the distant sounds of the ship that faded into oblivion. As he picked up the pace, his free hand slipping around to tease where you were joined, you arched further into him, lost in the sensation.

Wolffe's rhythm was relentless, each thrust driving deeper, claiming more of you with every measured stroke.

The stretch of him inside you was all-consuming, a delicious burn that blurred the edges of reality, making the confines of your quarters feel like the only world that mattered. His hand on your spine kept you arched, vulnerable and open, while the other gripped your hip, fingers digging in with a possessiveness that sent sparks racing up your nerves.

You buried your face in the sheets, muffling a moan as he confessed those hidden thoughts, his voice a gravelly whisper amid the symphony of your shared breaths and the slick sounds of your bodies meeting.

"Since the day I stepped aboard?" You managed to gasp out, disbelief threading through the haze of pleasure. “You've been thinking about– about this? About me? For that long?”

It was hard to form words, let alone process them. Not when he was burying himself to the hilt, pulling back only to surge forward again, hitting spots that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

He chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you where your bodies connected, a rare glimpse of humor from the battle-scarred commander. But there was no mockery in it—only raw honesty, laced with the strain of holding back. He slowed his pace just enough to lean over you fully, his chest pressing against your back, the weight of him grounding and overwhelming all at once.

His lips brushed your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin as he nipped at the lobe.

“Yeah, Admiral. Every damn day. You walk onto that bridge like you own it, issuing orders that save our hides, and all I can think about is what it'd be like to see you unravel. Not the composed leader. You. The woman under the uniform.”

Your mind reeled, trying to latch onto his words even as another deep thrust scattered your focus, drawing another whimper from your lips.

“But why didn't you say anything? We've stood side by side for years, and I thought—kriff. I thought it was just respect.”

"Respect?" He growled, punctuating the word with a sharper snap of his hips that made you arch deeper, toes curling.

His hand slid from your hip to trail down your side, fingers ghosting over your skin before dipping between your legs again, circling that sensitive nub with teasing precision.

The dual assault had you trembling, pleasure coiling tight in your core.

“It's more than that. First time I saw you chew out that incompetent naval officer from Coruscant. Stars, the fire in your eyes. All I could picture was pinning you against the holotable, stripping you away layer by layer. Had to adjust my armor more than once to hide it.”

The confession hit like a blaster bolt, heat flooding your cheeks even as your body responded to him, pushing back to meet his thrusts. You turned your head slightly, catching his gaze over your shoulder. His good eye dark with desire, the cybernetic one glowing faintly.

“During briefings? Wolffe, that's– Stars. I thought you were always so professional.”

He smirked, but it softened into something almost tender as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his pace building again, steady and unwavering.

“Professional? Sure, on the outside. But in my bunk, I'd replay your voice in my head and imagine turning them into pleas. Fantasized about your hands on me so many times I could get court martialed.”

His fingers worked faster between your thighs, matching the urgency of his hips, and you felt the edge approaching that sweet precipice.

“Even in the thick of battle, there'd be a split second where I'd think of you safe on the bridge, and it'd hit me. I wanted to protect you, yeah, but I wanted this too. To make you forget the war, even if just for a night.”

The vulnerability in his voice, stripped bare amid the intimacy, pushed you closer.

You reached back, your hand finding his thigh, nails digging in as encouragement.

“Tell me more,” You breathed, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Wolffe obliged, his thrusts growing erratic, signaling he was close too.

“That time on Felucia, after the ambush– you pulled us out with that flanking maneuver. I was covered in mud, adrenaline pumping, and back on the ship, in the sonic shower… all I could think about was dragging you in with me. Washing away the grime, tasting every inch of you, hearing you say my name like an order I couldn't refuse.”

He groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he drove deeper. "And the quiet moments, staring at star charts with you—kriff, I'd wonder what you'd feel like, sound like, coming apart. Kept it locked down, because duty first. But tonight? No more holding back."

The thin thread finally snapped again.

His words, raw and unfiltered, tipped you over. Pleasure crashed through you in waves, your body clenching around him, pulling a guttural moan from his lips as he followed, spilling inside you with a final, shuddering thrust. He held you through it, arms wrapping around your waist, collapsing together onto the bunk in a tangle of limbs and sweat-slicked skin.

“I never knew,” You murmured, a soft laugh escaping. “All this time…”

Wolffe pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice muffled but content. “Now you do. And if you need another breather, you know where to find me.”

You smiled, rolling your eyes weakly. “And I suppose this will become a normal occurrence now?”

“If you want it to be.”

“But do you?”

“After spilling all my secrets like that? What do you think, Admiral?”

“Just wanted to know we're on the same boat. Or ship.”

He huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes in return.

The quiet settled over your quarters like a soft blanket, broken only by the steady hum of the ship and the slow, even rhythm of your breathing. For a while, every worry and exhaustion seeped out of your body through every exhale you released. Underneath your ear, you heard his heart slow into a steady pace.

Wolffe laid beneath you, one arm draped loosely across your waist, his body warm and solid—a rare moment of stillness for a man who lived in constant motion. His confessions still echoed in your mind, raw and unguarded, peeling back layers you hadn’t known existed beneath the commander’s armor. The vulnerability he’d offered made something shift inside you.

Gratitude, but also a quiet hunger to give back what he’d so freely taken. He had made the effort to give you a breather and thank you after noticing how much weight had started to weigh on your shoulders. Perhaps you could return the same favor. After all, he has been serving and fighting for the Republic since the start of the war.

You moved before the impulse could fade.

With a gentle push against his chest, you rolled, guiding him onto his back.

He let you, surprise flickering briefly in his good eye before it melted into something darker, more curious.

The shift in position pressed your still-sensitive core against the stiffening hardness of him, drawing a low hiss from between his teeth.

You settled astride his hips, knees beside his waist, palms flat against the hard planes of his chest. Still covered by his top. All it took was a single tug from the hem and a pointed look cast down on him, and he was pulling his top off before throwing it on the floor. Now, he was completely bare too. You marveled at the gorgeous sight of him, the firmness of his torso, the golden complexion of his skin, and the litany of scars—both old and new—branding his body like trophies of war.

He grunted, voice rough, hands instinctively settling on your thighs. “Admiral—”

You silenced him with a slow, deliberate roll of your hips, grinding down in a languid circle that made his fingers tighten, nails biting faintly into your skin.

Heat flared anew between you, slick and insistent.

You leaned forward, hair falling around your face like a curtain, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“I need to thank you as well,” You murmured, sighing in pleasure when he slid perfectly between your folds. “In case no one has told you yet.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, a sound caught somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

“Didn’t realize I was due thanks.”

“You are,” You straightened, sitting up fully so he had a clear view of you above him. “For every time you pulled the Wolfpack through impossible odds. For every briefing where your tactical read saved lives. For standing at our side when the galaxy felt like it was collapsing.”

Another slow grind, harder this time, dragging a ragged sound from his throat.

His hands slid up your thighs, but he didn’t try to take control. He watched you instead, silver cybernetic eye glinting, while the golden brown hue darkened with heat and something softer.

You reached between your bodies, fingers wrapping around him, stroking once, twice, feeling him twitch in your grip. His head tipped back against the pillow, a low curse slipping free in Mando’a.

You aligned yourself, teasing the head at your entrance. Then sank down slowly, deliberately, taking him inch by inch until your hips met his. The stretch was different this time—deeper, fuller, with you setting the pace.

You stayed there a moment, simply feeling him seated inside you, walls fluttering around the thick length of him. In this position, you truly felt how massive he was. You've never felt so full in your entire life, and you knew there would be an insatiable ache within you once this was over. An ache only he can fill over and over again.

You caught the clench of his jaw, the vein at his temple, and how his throat moved as he swallowed.

He was visibly restraining himself, and you had to commend him for his self-control.

So, you began to move.

Rising and falling in measured strokes, rolling your hips in experimental circles that made his breath hitch every time your clit grazed the base of him. His hands flexed on your thighs, before they started to roam. Gripping your waist, sliding up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over hardened nipples until you arched into the touch with a quiet moan.

“Kriff,” He rasped, voice wrecked. “You’re gonna kill me like this.”

“Good,” You smiled, picking up speed, riding him with the same focused intensity you brought to every command decision. “Then we’ll go down together.”

You leaned forward again, bracing your hands on either side of his head, hair spilling over his shoulders as you rocked faster, harder. The angle let him hit deeper with every downward motion, sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. His hands found your ass, guiding your movement, letting you take what you needed.

“You’ve been carrying this ship too,” You whispered between gasps, forehead resting against his. “Every casualty report you sign off on. Every brother you lose. You never flinch. Never let it show.”

A particularly sharp roll of your hips pulled another guttural sound from him. “But I see it. I’ve always seen it.”

His grip tightened, hips beginning to meet yours in shallow, desperate thrusts from below.

“Careful, Admiral.” The growl he let out was a warning with no heat. “Keep talking like that and I won’t last.”

“Then don’t,” You straightened once more, staring down at him. “Let go for me, Commander. The way you let me go earlier.”

Jaw clenched, muscles pulled taut, breath coming in harsh pants. He looked so kriffing good when he's at the brink of his pleasure. You always thought he was handsome, all of his brothers were, even before you became close acquaintances. But something about him reeled you in like an invisible magnet, he always caught your eye even when he wasn't doing anything.

You felt him swell inside you, and the telltale twitch of him told you enough. So, you rode him faster, grinding harder, chasing your own peak while pushing him toward his.

You tightened around him again, drawing another sharp curse from him. “Let go, Wolffe.”

A broken growl tore from his throat as he bucked up into you, hands clamping on your hips hard enough to bruise, spilling hot and deep. The sensation—his release, the way he pulsed inside you—spurred you over the edge at the same time. Pleasure snapped through you like a live wire, thighs trembling, vision whiting out as you clenched around him, riding out the aftershocks with stuttered rolls of your hips.

All you could think about was him.

His hands. His voice. Those subtle canines that peeked through his sharp grin. You'd wake up the next day and see the imprints of his hands on your hips. You'd hear the low growl of his voice whenever you stood on the command bridge again. And you see the shape of those canines on your thigh every time you change out of your uniform until it fades.

“That's it,” He pulled you back from cloud nine, gently rolling his hips underneath you. “You took me so well, Admiral. So kriffing good.”

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his dazed look of approval.

When the world steadied again, you collapsed forward onto his chest, both of you slick with sweat and sex, hearts hammering in tandem. His arms came around you automatically, one hand stroking slow circles over your back.

So uncharacteristic of him, yet you found yourself smiling at the surprising tenderness.

You pressed yourself closer to him, savoring his warmth and the wall of his body firm against you.

For a long moment neither of you spoke.

Then, quietly, against your hair. “Thank you.”

You smiled into the crook of his neck. “You’re welcome, Commander.”

The weight of the day felt distant now, replaced by a languid warmth. But as you lay there, his arm draping over you, you knew this breather had shifted something between you. Trust deepened, barriers cracked, and lines crossed. Tomorrow, on the bridge, you'd be the admiral again, and he'd be the commander on the front lines.

💛 Cody 💛

He is a tough man to crack.

He’s always the Marshal Commander, taking his duties seriously on and off the battlefield.

You started innocently, visions of you kissing up and down his torso, slowly taking off his armor and blacks, fondling his cock, whispering how good of a girl you’ve been and that you’re ready to please your Commander in any way.

Cody didn’t even look at you, though you saw his hand twitch slightly at his side.

You smiled to yourself, projecting a more enticing scene into his mind.

This time, you were sucking his cock, his gloved hand wrapped in your hair, mumbling how amazing your lips felt around him, how much he was going to reward you later for being so good to him.

Still, nothing. Though his jaw seemed tense as he listened to Obi-Wan go over battle plans.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game, an exceedingly dangerous game, one that you will be thouroughly punished for later.

The thought shot a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, upping the ante again, needing him to crack.

The next image was of you, laying on his bunk, pleasuring yourself, two fingers deep inside your sopping pussy, your other hand pinching and tweaking your nipples writhing and moaning in pleasure, getting off completely fine without his assistance.

Since my Commander can’t be bothered to help me, I have to take matters into my own hands…

You held that teasing, lewd image in his mind, and you could almost feel the blade of his stare pierce straight through you as he finally made eye contact across the room.

It was a simple gesture that said so much, and you knew you had him.

After the meeting, you went straight to your personal quarters, knowing he wouldn’t be too far behind.

As your door hissed closed behind you, it was open again, and Cody had you pinned to a nearby wall so fast you barely had time to register what was happening.

Cody was deadly silent as he crushed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, teeth and tongue clashing as his armored body pressed into your robed one.

You smirked against his lips as he pulled away for air, your lungs burning. “Cody-“

Cody growled as he flipped you around, your face pressed up agains the wall, tugging down your robes, revealing your ass to him and your glistening pussy.

He gave your ass a solid smack, his lips against your ear, heavy and commanding.

“You’re not getting away with this.”

You sighed in both pain and pleasure, hearing the clunk of his codpiece hitting the floor, his fingers gripping your ass hard as he rubbed his rigid cock at your entrance.

“Is this what you wanted?” He husked, “to be filled by your Commander? To beg for this cock? Oh, mesh’la, you’ll be begging.”

You let out a whine as he teased your dripping entrance with his cockhead, already thinking you maybe took it a little too far with your visions, knowing he was a man true to his word.

It was too late now.

“Cody, please, I need-“

Smack! Another slap to your ass, his other hand wandering between your folds.

“Only good, obedient girls get this cock. After that stunt in the comm room, you have a lot to make up for.“

He swiped a finger over your clit, causing you to cry out, your body twitching, unable to move much between the wall and his solid form behind you.

He roughly rubbed your clit, pushing two fingers into your entrance, immediately finding the spongy spot that made you see stars.

“You’re soaking, mesh’la, so needy for me.”

You could feel your release coming quickly, choking out his name as his other hand groped at your breast.

Cody knew you were close, feeling you tighten around him, your high pitched moans giving you away.

Cody removed his fingers right as you were about to reach your peak.

You whimpered, trying to lean back against him, desperate for your release, for anything.

Cody spun you around again, pressing his gloved fingers soaked with your juice to your lips.

“If you’re good, I’ll let you cum. You haven’t proved yourself to me, though. Now be a good girl, and clean me up.”

You licked his gloved fingers clean, tasting yourself and giving him a little show of what you could do with your tongue, if you let him.

Cody’s eyes darkened, slowly pulling his fingers out of your mouth, a line of spit connecting your lips to his fingers.

“On your knees, mesh’la. Like I said, you have a lot to make up for.”

🖤 Wolffe 🖤

The image you projected was absolutely filthy.

Your hands were pinned behind your back by his large hand, the other pressing between your shoulder blades keeping you down on the bed as he pounded into you from behind.

You were shamelessly moaning his name like a dirty Holofilm star, crying out for him to go harder, faster.

You stood at attention, casually glancing at him, noticing a bead of sweat forming at Wolffe’s temple.

You could sense he was trying his best not to leap over the holomap and ravage you in front of everyone.

You decided he had enough of the first fantasy, briefly closed your eyes, projecting another scene into his mind.

You were on your knees in front of him, your mouth open as he shoots ropes of cum all over your face, greedily lapping it up, kissing up and down his still-hard cock, begging for more.

Wolffe’s eyes flashed at you, his cybernetic eye and scar making him look more dangerous than usual, his eyes narrowing.

Got him.

You were enjoying watching him keep it together, a vein bulging at his forehead, his neck tense as he stood at attention, listening to Master Koon’s hologram.

You knew you were in for it after the meeting.

That was the entire point.

Wolffe was practically kicking down the door to your personal quarters after the meeting, pinning you to your bed, his mouth ravaging yours, moving down to suck and bite at your neck, hard.

He had your wrists held above your head with one hand, his grip like iron.

There was no escape.

“What was that?” He growled as he continued the assault on your neck, his hand tightening even more around your wrists that were wiggling to get free.

You whined as his hand that was digging into your waist moved under your robes, up toward your breasts.

“Answer me, mesh’la. Or you won’t get what you so obviously want.”

His gloved touch left a trail of fire on your skin, sending goosebumps across your body and a jolt of arousal straight to your pussy, your panties wet at the anticipation.

“You looked bored during the meeting.” You smirked at up at him, breathy pants leaving you as he touched you. “Thought you could use some entertainment.”

Wolffe’s gaze darkened at your teasing tone, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Without warning, he ripped open the front of your robes, yanking down your breast band.

You yelped as he attacked your breasts with this lips and teeth, leaving more marks for him to gently kiss over later when he was through with you.

“Do you want my cum, mesh’la? Is that what you want?” Wolffe grunted against your flushed skin as he switched to your other breast.

You gasped a yes, his teeth expertly nipping and tugging at your sensitive bud.

You writhed, your wrists still restrained above your head by his strong hand.

“I’ll fill your mouth to the brim, and you’ll swallow every drop, isn’t that right you filthy girl?”

You nodded, almost delirious just at his mouth on your nipples. He hadn’t even really started touching you yet.

“And then I’ll fill that pretty pussy of yours, but only if you behave. Will you behave for me?”

“Y-yes!” Your voice cracked, needing him to fuck you until you couldn’t remember your name. 

“Yes…?” He stopped, his predatory gaze locking on you.

“Yes…Commander.”

“Good girl.”

Wolffe continued ravaging your breasts, your mewls filling the room.

“Please, I want your cock inside me, I want you to cum so deep inside me, Wolf-Commander. I’ll be good, I promise…”

Wolffe released your wrists, your hands finally free.

“You haven’t been good though, you knew that the second you invaded my mind with those visions.”

Wolffe sat up, and began removing his armor. You forgot it was even still on.

“I’ll make sure you’re properly punished for such distractions, and then I’ll decide when you’re ready for my cock.”

You shivered at his promise as he climbed over you, just in his blacks, the outline of his rigid cock straining against the fabric.

“I dunno, Commander. You seem to be all bark and no bite.” You teased, knowing you were getting yourself into even more trouble.

A dark chuckle reverberated in his chest, ripping your pants and panties down your legs, tossing them to the side.

Wolffe grasped your thighs, biting down into the soft flesh of your inner leg, earning a loud yelp from you as his tongue eased the first of many marks he will leave on your body.

“Be careful what you wish for, mesh’la.”

💙 Rex 💙

You had him sweating and fidgeting as Rex tried to keep a straight face in the briefing room.

Rex was attempting to listen to the mission report, but your vision in his mind was proving to be quite the distraction.

You were on his face, his hands grasping your thighs as he feasted on your pussy from below.

“Rex, oh kriff, more, please, I need your big cock, I want you to ruin me.”

Rex gave you a desperate look from across the room, slightly shaking his head.

You ignored his pleading glance, changing the vision.

Now, you were splayed out on his desk in his private Captain’s quarters, his cock driving deeper and deeper into you, your back arching as you rubbed your clit, cumming over and over again around him.

His desk was dripping with your juices, your breasts bouncing almost comically as you cried out his name, hamming up the vision to see Rex squirm.

Rex suddenly coughed, everyone in the room looking at him momentarily.

You rocked on your heels, hands behind your back, pretending to listen as the pre-mission brief continued, completely innocent.

Finally, the meeting ended.

You exited the room, Rex quickly walking past you.

“My office. Now.” He hissed quietly, before being called over by Anakin to discuss further plans.

When Rex opened the door to his office, you were sitting at his desk, waiting for him.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, General.” Rex strode up to you, placing his hands on his desk, leaning over toward you.

You loved it when he used his serious Captain voice on you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Captain.”

“You know.” His voice dropped an octave, husky and gruff, just how you liked it.

“You’ll have to elaborate. I can’t read minds.”

Rex stood up straight, his expression unreadable. You continued to sit in his chair as he walked around the desk and over to you.

Rex leaned down again, placing his hands on the armrests of the chair, caging you in.

For a moment, you thought he was actually upset with you. You felt guilty, maybe you did take it too far in the meeting.

You opened your mouth to apologize, but Rex spoke first.

“I think you can, mesh’la. How else would you know those visions are what I think about doing to you every waking moment?”

His lips were hovering centimeters from yours, a quiet gasp leaving your lips, your body quivering at his statement.

Oh, he liked it.

His breath fanned over your face, feeling your panties dampen, his usual soft eyes glazed over with lust.

You leaned forward to close the small distance, wanting to taste him, but he pulled away, avoiding your kiss.

“Mmm, mesh’la. You’re not going to get what you want so easily.” Rex purred in your ear, his gloved hand snaking up your neck, tilting your head to the side.

He placed a hot kiss right below your ear, lazily licking your neck.

“Rex…” you sighed, grasping at his shoulder pads, his teeth grazing your skin, his lips pressing to the side of your jaw.

“You want something from me?” He removed himself from you, kneeling between your legs.

“I’m not sure if you deserve it. I could write you up for what you did back there.”

Rex hooked his fingers under your pants, pulling them down your legs. You lifted your ass, helping him remove your lower clothes.

“Yeah? What would the report say?” You shuddered as Rex began lavishing your bare thighs, teeth and tongue sucking and nibbling as he slowly made his way up to your aching apex.

You could feel Rex smirk against your skin.

“My General coercing me into questionable situations. Inappropriate use of Jedi abilities.”

Rex stopped right at your core, aching and throbbing for him. You could feel his breath on your pussy, desperate now for any friction.

You let out a frustrated whine as Rex kissed your inner thigh, ignoring where you needed him most.

“Rex…”

“Patience, mesh’la. You need a lesson in discipline, it seems.”

Rex brushed his nose against your clit, your hips instinctually bucking up toward him, your hands grasping at his buzzed hair.

You groaned impatiently as he gently kissed your labia, touching you everywhere but your clit.

“You’re not going to get what you want so easily.” He rumbled into your core, a finger now teasing your entrance.

You panted, knowing you asked for this, that you deserved this, but you could still protest to his teasing.

“Captain, please…” You begged, shifting your hips, hoping he would press his finger knuckle deep inside you.

Rex continued to just tease your entrance with his finger tip, slowly circling, not quite pressing all the way inside.

“Kriff, you’re so wet. Do you want me to fuck you on my desk? Do you want to cum over and over again on my cock?”

You nodded, heavy pants the only sound able to leave your lips as he finally pressed his finger inside.

“Use your words, is that what you want?”

Rex’s lips were brushing over your clit, the teasing almost too much.

“Y-yes! Please, Rex, I need you inside me!” Your words came out as a garbled cry as he suddenly sucked on your clit, adding a second finger to your pussy, stretching you so deliciously you thought you might cry, pleasure shooting up your spine.

And his cock wasn’t even inside you yet.

“You’ll get my cock, mesh’la, don’t worry. But first, I want you to cum just like this.” Rex added a third finger, his tongue and lips circling your clit, your vision white from the pleasure as you squirmed and writhed in his chair, totally at his mercy, your orgasm building quickly.

You came apart on his fingers, shaking and sobbing his name, pleasure coursing through you as Rex’s fingers and mouth worked you through your first orgasm.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum.” Rex’s pupils were blown with desire, licking his lips as he cleaned you up, his baritone voice was laden with desire, his control now gone.

You barely had time to come down from you high as Rex easily lifted you onto his desk, removing his codpiece in a flash, pulling down his blacks far enough for his flushed, dripping cock to spring free.

“And you’re going to cum again, and again, and again. Are you ready, mesh’la? This is what you asked for.”

Your answer was a cry of his name, his hands gripping your hips as he slammed into you, starting a devastating pace, fucking you exactly like you showed him in your vision.

Your last coherent thought before being so thoroughly fucked and blissed out by your Captain was that you should definitely tease him like this more often.

Rex:

Rex is so honored by the idea of marrying you, like it means so much to him that you want to choose him that openly and permanently. But he doesn't need anything fancy and he tells you a hundred times that as long as he gets to marry you, he's happy

That being said, he knows next to nothing about weddings. He tries his best but he's a little clueless. You ask his opinion on almost anything like flowers or outfits or ceremony details and he just kinda stares for a minute like …that's something people do?

He's mildly nervous on the day because he knows how important it is and he just really really wants everything to go well for you. He forces himself to be like kinda overly composed and proper but everyone who knows him can tell he's tense. He's just trying so hard to keep it together

But then he sees you and all that nervousness vanishes. Probably sheds a tear or two but tries to be subtle about it. And his voice is all rough when he's giving his vows

The whole day just ends up meaning so much to him. The best part of it to him is really just knowing that he's married to you now, but everything about the day just hit him really hard. At the end of the night he's staring at you with the softest little smile you've ever seen on him because he feels like this was genuinely the best day of his life

Fives:

Fives is SO excited to marry you. Like from the second he decided he was going to propose to you he was thinking about the wedding lol. Was planning that proposal like it was the most important mission of his entire life and then immediately became the most unbearable person in the galaxy after you said yes

Like "I'm getting married" lowkey becomes his whole personality for a bit. Brings you up constantly to other people just so he can refer to you as "my fiancé" with a big grin on his face. He's so proud of you and so proud to be with you and it makes him giddy that he gets to marry you

He wants the wedding to be perfect, but he's not actually super picky about the details. Like yeah he wants it to be really special but more than anything he just wants the day to feel like you and him. His primary concern is making sure you have a good time and he thinks that getting too swept up in the details will kinda defeat the whole purpose

His vows are like the perfect mix of light/cute and really emotional/heartfelt. Probably emotionally destroys everyone there. Gets choked up at one point as he's speaking and then has to laugh it off

Afterwards he's just so happy and the reception's probably a blast. He's dancing with you and kissing you every chance he gets and bragging to everyone about you. He's sooo proud to be married to you

Cody:

Cody's pretty neutral on the idea of a wedding itself, but he wants to marry you very very badly. The ceremony isn't the part that matters most to him, but making that commitment to you absolutely does. So if a wedding is what you want then fine, he's in, and he's gonna make sure it's done properly

Super organized about the planning, says he's just being practical but has oddly strong opinions on things he previously said were unnecessary or claimed not to care about. He kinda gets sooo into the planning lol and you could basically leave it all to him if you wanted

On the day, Cody is composed right up until he sees you. Then his control slips and he's just a lil bit of a flustered mess. Not in an obvious way but his expression goes so soft and stunned that everyone can tell he's completely gone for you

His vows are simple but really heartfelt, every word really deliberate and sincere, and you can tell he spent a lot of time deciding on exactly what he wanted to say. He's kinda quiet when he says them too because he's just speaking directly to you and wants you to know he means every word

Enjoys the reception more than he expected but he's also very very ready to get you alone by the end of the night. He's fairly relaxed and composed during the reception but the second the two of you are finally away from everyone else his restraint starts disappearing fast. Let's just say this man has essentially been waiting all night to properly appreciate being married to you lol

Wolffe:

Wolffe initially acts like having a wedding is completely unnecessary and kind of an inconvenience. Tells you that you don't need some ceremony when the two of you already know you're committed to each other. But he's also just possessive enough to like the idea of everyone knowing so undeniably you're his, so eventually he relents

Leaves most of the planning to you and pretends he doesn't really care about the details but the second you actually ask his opinion, he has VERY strong opinions. Suddenly the guy who supposedly thinks weddings are pointless has STRONG thoughts on dress code, food, music, guest count, where everyone should be standing. Highkey bossy about it

The teasing is the worst part for him. If anyone in the Wolfpack makes one joke about him getting married, settling down, being soft, whatever, he shuts it down with the deadliest glare imaginable. He is NOT letting this get in the way of his image lol

On the day, he's tense pretty much the entire time. He doesn't like everyone staring at him, he doesn't like that he's being…emotionally perceived, and he HATES that everyone's waiting for him to be vulnerable in front of people. He does soften a little when he sees you and for a second you see all his irritation fade into this quiet, helpless look

His vows are short and a little rough around the edges, but very sincere. Stares at you super intensely as he says them mostly because he's trying to shut everyone else out and just focus on you so he doesn't falter at all

Kinda antsy for most of the reception tbh cause he wants to get OUT of there. He's just emotionally kinda drained (and also wants you to himself so badly it's making him even more irritable than usual. Once he gets you alone neither of you are getting any sleep that night for SURE)

Fox:

Fox wants to be married to you. He is absolutely certain about that. What he does NOT want is a wedding. He would very much prefer to just sign the necessary paperwork, kiss you after, and call it handled

It takes you a long time to wear him down enough to agree to an actual ceremony, and even then he's stubborn about every single detail. It has to be small, private, controlled, and absolutely not some big display where half the Guard gets to watch him have emotions. He loves you deeply but he'd rather go into battle barehanded than be vulnerable in front of people who aren't you

So he helps with the planning but mostly by being bossy and kinda critical. He's just stressed and this is apparently how he copes. Calls almost everything you bring up unnecessary and eventually you have to kinda ignore a lot of his input cause if you did what he wanted there'd. like. not be a wedding lmao

When the Guard finds out, they tease him so badly he almost calls the whole thing off out of spite

On the actual day he's exhausted because he was up all night thinking about it, and he's tense and visibly on edge. Really he's mostly nervous about saying his vows in front of people but good luck getting him to admit that

He stubbornly holds back tears when he sees you and he's internally furious about how close he comes to losing that battle. His vows are quiet and gruff because he mostly only wants you to hear them, but they're really sincere

During the reception he relaxes a little but keeps his arm locked around your waist almost the entire time. Like you are NOT getting physically separated from this man for as long as possible. Is honestly pretty happy when the night is finally over and he gets you alone. Is shockingly soft and affectionate that night tho

Wolffe who gives you fake sympathy as he fucks you.

Doesn't care what the position is as long as he can get his mouth right up against your ear. Drawls "Aww. Poor thing," when you cry out as he bullies his cock into you. Once he's buried to the the hilt inside you he just grinds in little circles, not thrusting yet, just forcing you to stretch around him until you're whining and squirming, pushing against his hips to try to get him to move properly.

"None of that," he growls against your ear, gripping your wrist and pulling it away from his hip. "You can take whatever I give you, can't you? Shh, I know it's a lot. But if you can't handle this, how are you gonna handle it when I actually fuck you, huh?"

He suddenly pulls his cock almost all the way out and then immediately shoves it back in with a grunt, and you whimper. "That's it. Poor thing." His teeth catch against your earlobe, pulling as he starts to thrust properly. He doesn't ease you into it. He grips your wrists and pins you down with his weight, ruthlessly driving himself into you again and again.

"Look at you," he pants, his voice gravelly. "Such a desperate fucking mess." You whine and try to arch away from the friction, but he leans even heavier against you, forcing you to take every single deep thrust.

When your breath hitches and a sob slips out, he presses an almost mocking kiss right below your ear, tracking the tear that rolls down your cheek. "Aww, did that hurt? Let me make it better," he mutters, but his rhythm just gets meaner. He shifts his grip, slipping his arm beneath you to yank your hips up for a deeper angle.

"Tell me to stop," he taunts, his breath hot against your neck. "Come on, sweetheart. If it's too much, just tell me. I'll stop."

Boss:

Boss is really good at noticing when you're getting overwhelmed and if he sees you're in the middle of a conversation and starting to get anxious he'll casually interrupt with a "Need you for a second" and walk you away like he actually has something important to discuss. He doesn't, he'll just ask if you're alright and give you a quick kiss

Whenever you have to do something that's stressing you out, he cups your face, makes you look at him, and gives you a little pep talk. Doesn't matter how small the situation is, he'll give you like clear instructions, outlines how it's gonna go so you feel more confident going in, and makes sure that you have some semblance of confidence about it before he finally lets you go

Also uses really specific intentional contact cues to help calm you when he notices you getting anxious/overwhelmed in social situations, like maybe comes up with a little touch like a tap to your wrist that reminds you to take a breath, and always places a hand at the small of your back when steering you out of a situation

If you ever get like cornered socially he steps in and redirects the interaction onto himself, reaching out and giving your hand a little reassuring squeeze. Like he's just really good at just very smoothly stepping in and making sure you don't get stuck in situations that overwhelm you

Loves when you get all flustered from affection and intentionally catches you off guard with quick kisses because he knows it'll make you blush. Drops his voice low and mutters "There it is" kinda smugly

Fixer:

Fixer's not a big fan of socializing either and would frankly kinda prefer to be a bit of a homebody with you, though it's not for anxiety reasons, he just. doesn't wanna.

Does kinda push you to do little things outside of your comfort zone sometimes. Like ordering something yourself or making a call instead of avoiding it. Afterwards he acts like you've just completed a successful mission and is all dry like "See? No casualties."

If you're somewhere loud, you both can just like glance at each other and know without saying anything that it's time to head out. One look means yeah I've had enough and you're both already heading for the exit

If you're caught in an anxiety spiral he speaks to you really calmly and straightforwardly, listing facts about the situation that seem obvious but are meant to be steadying/grounding. like. nobody's looking at you. nobody's judging you. we're gonna be able to leave soon. nothing bad is happening. nothing bad is gonna happen. I'm right here, I'm sticking close to you.

Also good at speaking for both of you without making it feel like he's talking over you, like if someone asks a question he knows you hate answering he'll reply before you have to think about it

Scorch:

Scorch is the best social buffer cause he is NOT shy. If someone catches you off guard trying to talk to you or they ask you a question and you freeze for a second he's already cutting in and everyone's attention is on him now

Keeps up a running commentary whenever you're somewhere new/crowded so you're focusing more on him than anything else. Just like pointing things out and making jokes

Generally tries to stay touching you in some way in social situations just to try to reassure you. He's good at taking over in social situations but also doesn't want you to feel intentionally sidelined, will just like drape an arm over your shoulders and pull you against his side as he talks, not pressuring you to talk but making comments to you and giving you lots of reassuring squeezes

Also really good at making you laugh in situations he knows make you anxious/overwhelmed. Like if he notices you getting tense he just leans in and whispers something ridiculous to get you to laugh. Doesn't solve the anxiety but he hopes getting you laughing will knock it down enough that you can breathe again

Tbh your shyness gives him so much cuteness aggression. He'll see you getting bashful over something small and can't help but cup your face in both hands like "You're so cute. C'mere." Then presses kisses all over your face. If you laugh and get flustered he just wraps his arms around you and kisses you more.

Sev:

Sev is more on the reserved side himself and he likes that you're not the type who feels the need to fill every silence. You two could spend hours together without talking much and he'll walk away thinking wow that was really nice actually

If he realizes you're trying to think of an excuse to leave somewhere, he'll beat you to it every single time. Suddenly he's "remembering" something the two of you need to do, grabbing your hand, and steering you right out the door before anyone can argue

Takes care of stuff he knows you hate without mentioning it, like making calls or dealing with irritating people or asking someone for information. He just handles it for you without a second thought

Doesn't think about your shyness as something wrong or that needs to be fixed and will get mean to people who comment on it. Like if someone starts the whole "you're so quiet" routine he cuts in with a sharp "And?" and gets argumentative

Not super affectionate generally but if you're having one of those days where your anxiety's just wearing you down, he'll pull you over until you're leaning against him. Doesn't really say anything comforting, just sits there with you until you start relaxing

You winced as the cold night air brushed against your face while you rode your speeder to the clone barracks. It wasn't typically this chilly outside, so you opted against wearing a helmet, but the farther you rode, the more you wish you grabbed it on your way out. After what felt like too long, you killed the engine and glanced toward the entrance. The barracks loomed in stark contrast to the city’s chaos. The block of utilitarian lines and muted colors felt as rigid and impersonal as the Kaminoians hoped soldiers housed within would be.

But you weren’t here for the barracks. You were here for Sev.

You stepped out of the speeder, pulling your coat tighter as a faint breeze tugged at your hair. A platform lamp above buzzed faintly, casting a pale glow over the duracrete. There was something you loved about waiting for Sev. Perhaps it was the feeling that pressed against your chest as you eagerly awaited for the first glimpse of his silhouette.

Finally, the door slid open with a soft hiss and you felt a subtle smile tug at your lips.

Sev stepped into view, and for a moment, everything else around you faded. He wasn’t wearing his armor tonight, but instead wore the civvies you gifted him as a "just because" gift. The Republic issued clothing felt too much like another uniform, so you figured something unique would make him feel as such.

As he approached you, his posture, usually so alert and ready, softened slightly when his eyes found yours. Without a word, you closed the space between you, stepping close until you caught the faint scent of him and the warmth of his arms surrounded you. You tilted your chin up just enough for your lips to brush his. His snaked his hand to your waist, hesitating before pulling you just a bit closer. When you pulled back, your eyes met his, catching a rare flicker of something gentle in his expression.

“You ready?” you asked, giving him another quick peck.

He nodded, "For you, always. Yeah.” His voice was low and rough-edged but maintained a soft undertone he kept reserved just for you.

You grabbed his hand and turned toward the speeder, ready to climb in. But before you could hop on, a familiar voice called out from behind.

“Hey, Sev!” Scorch’s voice radiated across the platform, as usual. You both shifted slightly to see him leaning against the barracks doorway with his arms crossed, a grin tugging at his mouth, “Don’t stay out too late. You know Fixer’s got that training schedule.”

Sev half-turned, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t wait up for me,” he called back with a rare wink, making you laugh softly.

Scorch let out a low whistle, “Don't have too much fun!” he teased you.

Sev waved lightly before sliding into the driver’s seat. You followed, settling into the seat behind him. The whole galaxy seemed to vanish as you wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his back.

“Where to?” he asked, twisting his neck to kiss the top of your head.

You hummed in content, "My place."

Sev started the speeder, the engine spitting to life as he eased into traffic. The city unfolded around you, towers rising like jagged teeth against the night sky, streaks of light blurring past. For a while, you let the quiet stretch, comfortable and familiar. His hand brushed against yours wrapped around his waist, providing a silent gesture of connection.

Once at your apartment, Sev stepped in and exhaled, allowing the familiar comfort of your living room soothe him. He slumped into your couch, wishing the Kaminoians could see this - see him in a place he can call home, living his live as a human, not a clone. He let himself shoulders relax, taking in the warmth and small, homey touches of your space. The stack of books on the coffee table, the worn blanket draped over the couch, the way the city’s glow was softened by your curtains, everything - it was all so grounding for him.

You gingerly walked over towards the couch, but instead of sitting next to him, you stood behind him, squeezing your hands into the knots in his tense shoulders. He let out a soft groan as you began to massage gently, “I’ve got dinner planned,” you smiled, pressing a few more hard presses into his shoulders before pulling away, "I left it in the oven to keep warm while I scooped you."

His gaze flicked to you, and though he said nothing, you caught the faintest glimmer of awe in his expression, “Thank you cyare.”

You gave Sev’s shoulders one last gentle squeeze before straightening and stepping away. He remained slouched on the couch for a moment longer, his eyes fluttering shut as he soaked in the rare peace that wrapped around him like a warm blanket.

“I’ll grab dinner out,” you said against the top of his head, not wanting to disrupt the quiet spell that had fallen between you.

In the kitchen, you pulled open the oven, the wave of warmth and the savory aroma filling the apartment instantly. You plated the meal with care. It was nothing fancy, just a simple casserole you’d thrown together earlier in the day. You poured two glasses of red wine and placed them on a tray with the casserole before carrying the tray back into the living room.

Sev straightened as you approached, his hands moving instinctively to help, though you waved him off, “Relax,” you chimed softly, “I want to take care of you tonight, okay?”

He huffed a soft laugh, a rare sound that made your heart twist, “You're too kind to me." You set the tray down on the low table in front of the couch and settled beside him, tucking your legs up under yourself.

For a moment, you both sat there in silence, side by side, his shoulder pressing lightly into yours. Then Sev reached for a plate, his movements careful, almost hesitant. He ate slowly, savoring each bite as though trying to decipher each flavor of this once in a blue moon home-cooked meal.

“This is phenomenal,” he let out slow, letting his head rest on your shoulder after he finished his bite.

You smiled, titling your head slightly to rest on his, “I’m glad. I figured you deserved something warm and homemade after all that caf and ration bars you’ve been stuck with.”

He made a faint sound of agreement, his eyes briefly flickering up to meet yours. There was a softness there, a warmth you’d come to recognize only in these rare, private moments.

“You always make it feel special, you know,” he whispered, “Like I’m- I don’t know. More than just—”

“More than a soldier,” you finished softly, your heart squeezing at his unspoken words.

His throat worked as he swallowed, “Yeah, that.”

You reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair back from his forehead, “That’s because you are, Sev. You always have been. Even before we met at that bar all those months ago.”

"79's dear," he corrected you, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

For a moment, he rested his lips on your shoulder. Then he set his plate aside, shifting so he could pull you gently into his lap. You went willingly, straddling his thighs, your hands resting lightly on his chest.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his hands settling at your waist, fingers splaying against the crook of your back.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you murmured, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I’m just glad you’re here.”

His lips found yours, slow and lingering, the kiss deepening as his hands tightened on your waist. It wasn’t hurried or frantic, but instead just a steady, quiet need to be close and to feel connected. When he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against yours, he let out a low breath.

“I’ve missed this,” he admitted, “Being with you and having to think about everything else. That last deployment was too long.”

“I know,” you whispered, your thumb brushing over his cheek, “I’ve missed you too.”

You stayed like that for a few moments longer, the half-eaten plates forgotten on the tray. Eventually, Sev shifted, nudging you gently to the side.

“Let me help with the dishes,” he offered, standing and stretching, the movement drawing your eyes over the lean, powerful lines of his body.

You laughed softly, rising to your feet as well, “You can help by keeping me company while I take care of them.”

He followed you into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you rinsed the plates and stacked them neatly. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he smirked, twisting the stem of his wine glass in his fingers.

You glanced over your shoulder, your lips curving into a smile, “Took you this long to figure it out, huh?”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and he pushed off the counter, stepping closer. His arms wrapped around your waist from behind, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Seriously,” he rasped against your skin, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You set the last plate aside and turned in his arms, your hands coming up to rest against his chest, “It’s not about deserving, Sev. It’s about us. That’s all that matters.”

His lips brushed yours again, slow and deliberate, as though he was memorizing the taste of you. When he pulled back, his eyes held that same quiet awe you’d glimpsed earlier.

“Let’s sit down,” you suggested softly, tugging him gently back toward the couch, “The night’s still young, and I’ve got a blanket with our names on it.” He didn’t resist, letting you guide him back into the living room, where you curled up together on the couch.

Sev's arm draped lazily around your shoulders as you nestled close. You tugged a worn, plush blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over both of you, its soft fabric cocooning you in comforting warmth.

You scrolled through the holoscreen for a moment, debating which holofilm to pick. Sev didn’t say a word, content to watch you make the decision, his hand tracing slow, absent circles over your upper arm.

“You’re lucky I didn’t go with the trashy rom-com option,” you teased lightly, glancing up at him.

He huffed a soft laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest, “Wouldn’t have minded,” he smirked, brushing his lips against your temple, “If it makes you happy, I’ll watch anything.”

You smiled, settling on a simple, feel-good holofilm. Something perfect for an evening like this. As it started playing, Sev shifted slightly, pulling you closer so you were practically draped across his chest.

His body was solid beneath you, radiating a sense of comfort and safety. You could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as you rested your head over it, and with every rise and fall of his chest, you felt yourself relax just a bit more.

The holofilm played on, but neither of you paid it much mind. Sev’s hand found its way into your hair, his fingers combing through the strands with a tenderness that made your chest ache. Occasionally, he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, the bridge of your nose or the curve of your jaw.

“You’re gonna make me melt if you keep that up,” you mumbled against his chest, returning his gesture with a kiss on his clothed chest.

“Good,” he huffed, “then you’ll stay right here forever.”

You let out a quiet laugh. As the holofilm continued on in the background, Sev shifted again, tugging the blanket higher around you both and tilting his head so his cheek rested against the crown of your head. You felt his breath ruffle your hair, his lips brushing feather-light kisses along your temple.

“Comfy?” he asked softly.

You hummed and nodded, “You're right. I wish we could stay like this forever.”

His arms tightened around you, “Me too, cyare. Me too.”

The way your body fit perfectly over his felt so right. You bent your neck just enough to look up at him, meeting his gaze.

His eyes were soft, relaxed, and filled with an affection that stole your breath. You leaned up, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips, slow and sweet.

When you pulled back, Sev’s thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, “I love you more than you'll know,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your chest ached with emotion, “I love you too, Sev. So, so much.”

You curled in closer, the holofilm forgotten as the two of you simply held each other, wrapped in a quiet, private world of love and tenderness. His fingers continued their gentle tracing over your back, lulling you into a peaceful, contented haze.

But then you felt a subtle change in the way his hands moved against your skin. The slow drag of his fingertips left goosebumps in their wake. His breath, warm against your ear, hitched ever so slightly, and a quiet, almost imperceptible hum of a chuckle vibrated through his chest.

“Cyare,” he hoarsely groaned, sending a shiver down your spine.

His eyes caught yours in a way that made your heart skip a beat or two. His thumb brushed the curve of your cheek, and the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Holo’s almost over,” he said softly, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just beneath your ear before nodding to your bedroom door, “How about we move somewhere with a little more space?”

Your pulse fluttered beneath his touch, and you let out a breathless laugh, “I don't know, you seem a little tired,” you teased, though your voice lacked any real protest.

Sev’s answering grin was slow and wicked, his fingers tightening gently around your waist as he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. “Not that tired,” he winked, before closing the distance, capturing your mouth in a kiss that promised far more than quiet cuddles.

The holofilm credits began in the background, but it faded into nothing as the soft slide of lips and the press of warm, callused hands became the only things that mattered.