erellenora

[erellenora]

Congrats on the followers id yet again like to throw in another request please?

growing up I had difficult with reading or learning to read in general. I was wondering if you could come up with a slight angsty and fluffy fic of tech trying to teach reader (fem) to read? Maybe he’s not patient, makes a very tech-like comment that reader overhears that upsets her which sucks because she really likes tech? ❤️ thank u ☺️

🌊 Reading Between the Lines

🫧 Pairings: Tech X Female Reader

🫧 word count: 6.1k

🫧 Plot: When Tech finds out you’re unable to read, he makes it his job to teach you. But after a comment to Echo, you think maybe he’s not the teacher for you.

🫧 Warnings: Safe for work, fluff and angst. Female reader, reader is unable to read. Tech makes accidental inconsiderate comments, comfort, play fighting, omega playing match maker, idiots in love trope, first kiss, reconciliation.

🫧: authors note: thank you @forbiddenwaves for this request and the kind words. Thanks for messaging me so we can work on this togther too. Enjoy 🤍

“Now, attempt the next word.”

You stared down at the datapad, the symbols swimming on the screen under the shadow of Tech’s tall frame. The sun beat down on your shoulders, and you bit the inside of your cheek, determined not to get this one wrong.

“Erm…”

“That is incorrect,” he stated before you could even finish.

Your brows furrowed. “I haven’t given you an answer yet,” you muttered, sharper than you intended. “It’s… con… cot…”

“Corellia,” Omega suddenly answered cheerfully from your other side as she bounds over.

You slumped with a groan, just as Tech gave a frustrated exhale.

“Omega,” he said, tone reproachful, “if you provide the answer, she will not learn.”

Omega winced, looking between the two of you with a sheepish shrug. “Sorry,” she said, eyes softening as they met yours.

“It’s alright,” you sighed in defeat. “I think I’m done for today. Besides, we’ve got to help the locals soon. That is why we’re on this rock after all.”

Tech folded his arms across his chest, expression unreadable behind his goggles. “We’ve scarcely covered anything of substance.”

“It’s been almost two hours,” you pointed out, rising from the crate you’d been sitting on, legs stiff. You turned to face him, half your features obscured by the harsh sunlight. “I need a break.”

He didn’t argue, but the way he took the datapad back from your hands with just a bit too much stiffness told you he wasn’t thrilled. “Very well. We’ll resume this evening.” Then, turning to Omega: “And I would appreciate no further interruptions.”

She nodded silently.

As Tech strode toward the ship’s gangplank, Omega reached for your hand, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. “Hey, you got the first two letters right. That’s progress!”

From halfway up the ramp, Tech’s voice floated back over his shoulder. “Technically, it is not. Especially considering we’ve made no discernible advancement in two full rotations. And the fact that we just returned from a mission on Corellia should have made that word obvious.”

Then he disappeared into the ship.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Not unless you wanted to cry out of embarrassment.

Tech didn’t mean to be cruel because that isn’t in his nature. But he didn’t realise how much weight his words carried and how easily they upset you.

Omega was still watching you, lips pressed into a tight, worried line. “You’ll get there,” she said gently. “It takes time, that’s all.”

You exhaled slowly, wiping the back of your neck, now sticky with sweat and heat. “Maybe. But right now… it’s not looking great.”

It had been Tech’s idea to take on the responsibility of teaching you like it was a personal mission ever since the squad had learned that reading Basic wasn’t just a struggle for you, but a near impossibility.

Though, Wrecker and Echo did tell you that they were impressed since it never hindered any mission and they never noticed it being an issue for you.

At first, you were excited. One being that you could finally be able to read a sentence clearly for once by being taught by a complete brain-whizz and two, getting to spend some one on one time with Tech. Because well… you liked him. A lot. You had welcomed the chance to be near him, maybe even impress him.

But now? Now you just felt like dead weight.

These lessons had been going on for a while now and every time you thought you were making progress, he corrected you. When you think you have gotten the hang of it, your hope is snapped like a thin wire. And even though his tone was rarely harsh, the impact landed just the same.

You weren’t sure how much more of it you could take before you self imploded.

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When a few hours had passed and you were covered in dried mud, scraped hands and aching shoulders. Just a small testament to the day’s work. The mudslide had hit the outskirts of the local settlement hard. Homes had caved in, supplies were lost. You, Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega had been on the ground all afternoon, helping wherever you could.

And for a little while, it had helped. Being useful. Doing something physical. Something that didn’t require datapads or deciphering Tech’s disappointment.

Wanting nothing more than to jump onto the Marauder to have a wash, as you climbed the Marauder’s gangplank with your limbs heavy and clothes still damp, the sound of your name halted you just short of the open doorway.

“She’s trying, Tech,” Echo said from inside, his voice low but firm. “I don’t think you realise how hard this is for her.”

“I am aware,” Tech replied curtly. “But effort without measurable progress doesn’t change the result. If she cannot fathom basic reading material after this long, I fail to see the point in continuing the same method.”

Echo exhaled, clearly trying to keep his patience.

There was a pause, and then Tech added:

“I don’t understand how someone who can’t read was cleared to be in this squad. It’s inefficient.”

You didn’t stay to hear more.

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your breath sharp in your throat. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and grabbed a datapad left near the hatch—someone’s, anyone’s—and turned sharply on your heel, boots pounding against the ramp as you vanished.

Inside the Marauder, Echo’s head turned toward the hatch, catching the blur of movement just as it disappeared.

He frowned. “Was that—?”

“Likely Omega,” Tech said without looking up from his datapad.

Echo didn’t answer. He stared at the doorway a moment longer with a small sliver of doubt.

Then he reached over and plucked the datapad from Tech’s hands.

“There’s nothing wrong with the material,” Tech started, instinctively straightening. “It’s relevant—”

Echo held the pad up and squinted at the screen. “You gave her an economics summary on Corellia’s supply line recovery?”

Tech blinked. “It’s context-based learning. The vocabulary is advanced but rooted in familiar scenarios. Planet names, trade metrics…”

Echo cut him off, reading aloud in a dry tone:

‘Blah, blah, blah… Corellia’s industrial sectors yielded a net increase of 17.3% in hyperlane freight throughput.’

He looked at Tech. “You do remember she’s a beginner, right?”

Tech’s jaw twitched. “Comprehension improves when one is challenged. It’s a proven learning model.”

Echo just stared at him, then gave a slow, knowing smile. “Right. You’re not making it harder so you get more time alone with her or anything.”

Tech shot him a glance. “That’s not what this is.”

“Mm-hmm.” Echo folded his arms. “Just a coincidence you give her material most cadets wouldn’t see until advanced training. And you happen to offer to teach it… one-on-one.”

Tech didn’t answer. Didn’t rise to the bait. But he also didn’t correct him.

You wandered until the forest opened up into a small clearing just outside the village, where a fallen tree had settled along the edge like a broken bench. The air was still, heavy with the scent of wet ground and crushed foliage. You dropped onto the moss-covered trunk, the datapad still clutched in your hand.

For a moment, you just stared at it—its dull, lifeless screen reflecting your muddied reflection back at you. You pressed the activation switch, but the interface was already unlocked. Swiping clumsily, you tried to navigate to something, anything. Maybe one of those Corellian reports Tech was so convinced would teach you context. But the layout made no sense.

Your thumb hovered. You tapped wrong. Backed out. Tried again.

Nothing worked.

And with every failure, that old, tight feeling started rising in your throat like a scream.

Calm down. It’s just a datapad. It’s fine.

But your hands were shaking now, the letters blurring into meaningless shapes.

You grit your teeth, jabbed the screen once more and when it brought up another menu you didn’t know, you let out a rough breath and flung the datapad down into the grass with a thud.

Slumping off the log, you slid to the ground and pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your forehead against them. You didn’t cry. Not really. But your eyes stung. Your chest ached. You were so tired of trying. So tired of hoping and for what? To be called inefficient?

Minutes passed. Then, from somewhere beyond the trees, you heard your name being called.

Your stomach twisted. You knew that voice.

You inhaled slowly through your nose, forcing down the storm of frustration that still bubbled beneath your ribs. You didn’t want to talk to him but you figured that avoiding him now would only make things worse.

“I’m over here, Tech,” you called out, keeping your voice level.

He appeared between the trees moments later, his eyes scanned the clearing until they landed on you, standing now beside the log.

“You wandered off,” he observed plainly. “Omega was not certain where you’d gone.”

“I needed some air,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual.

He took a step closer. “Are you ready for your lesson?”

Your gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m… I don’t want to do another one today.”

Tech blinked, thumb pressing beneath his chin in that thoughtful way he always did when evaluating something... or someone. “Lack of practice results in insufficient performance.”

“Yeah, I get it.” You rubbed your arm, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m not in the mood to do anything else today. I’m… tired.”

He studied you, his brow furrowing faintly. “I suppose that is reasonable. You were engaged in extensive manual labor for most of the day. Very well. We will resume tomorrow.”

He turned to go but you spoke up, “I don’t want to do it tomorrow either.”

He paused mid-step, looking over his shoulder at you, an eyebrow raised. “And why are you putting off your studies?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. You wanted to tell him. Wanted to throw his words back at him, cut him open like he’d done to you without even knowing. But what was the point?

“I just need a break,” you said instead, keeping your voice even as you play with your fingers.

“We have plenty of free time to continue—”

“I said I wanted a break, Tech,” you snapped, your arms folding tightly across your chest. Your shoulders stiffened as every nerve seemed to buzz.

He blinked again, head tilting slightly. “Your tone suggests there is something else bothering you.”

You looked away, lips tight. “Or someone,” you muttered under your breath.

“What was that?”

“I’m going for a wash,” you said instead, ducking down and snatching up the datapad you’d discarded. You moved to step over the fallen log and held it out to him without looking.

He took it from your hand, confusion still etched into his features. “Were you just using this?”

You let out a tired sigh. “Tried to.”

The next morning passed slowly, the heat thick and relentless even in the early hours. Yourself and the others helped out in the village again —carrying supplies, sorting debris, fetching water—but your heart wasn’t in it today. Your hands worked on muscle memory whilst your mind is elsewhere.

You’d been quiet. Too quiet, apparently because Omega had noticed.

You were sitting beneath a large tree at the edge of the village, the sun flickering through its canopy, offering shade as a gentle breeze stirred the leaves. You were tracing random patterns into the dust with the toe of your boot when Omega plopped down beside you.

She offered a bright smile, hugging her knees to her chest. “Feels nice to be helping people, huh?”

You nodded in reply, smiling faintly. “Yeah.”

She watched you for a moment, rocking slightly as she stared out at the village. “You seem kinda quiet today.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just tired.”

Omega leaned her shoulder into yours, playfully and soft. “You didn’t even complain when Wrecker gave you that heavy crate. That’s how I really knew something was up.”

That got a small chuckle out of you.

She tilted her head. “You and Tech didn’t do your lesson this morning.”

You grimaced before you could stop yourself. “I don’t want to do them anymore.”

Her brows knitted. “Why not? You were doing good yesterday. You almost had Corellia right!”

You stared down at your hands, fingers fiddling with a loose thread on your shirt. “I just… I don’t think I can learn from him.”

Omega blinked, surprised. “Did you tell him that?”

You gave a little shrug, not looking at her. “Not really.”

She fell silent for a moment, thinking. Then, in a hopeful voice, she offered, “Maybe I could help?”

You looked up at her, surprised. “You?”

She nodded eagerly. “Why not? You already got the first letters down before I ruined it yesterday.” She says, “And I bet I could make it more fun than Tech.”

You hesitated at first but truthfully, it was the first time since yesterday you didn’t feel like a complete failure. Omega’s eyes were wide with hope and something that felt a lot like belief.

You smiled, a little uncertain, but it reached your eyes. “Alright. Let’s try it.”

“Great! Stay here!” She shot to her feet before you could ask what she needed.

You expected her to run into the Marauder for a datapad but instead, she ducked underneath the ship’s hull and rummaged around in the loose red soil.

A moment later, she returned triumphantly holding a thick, crooked stick like it was a prized trophy.

“No screens today,” she grinned, “just dirt!”

She crouched low beside you, and with one sweep of her hand, cleared a wide patch of dust between you. Then, with careful, deliberate strokes, she began to write out the alphabet.

“You ready?” she asked, smiling up at you.

You nodded and leaned in beside her, cross-legged.

“Okay. Repeat after me.” She tapped each letter as she said it aloud, slow and clear:

“A… B… C…”

You followed, stumbling a few times, but she didn’t mind. She would just start the whole thing over, patient and gentle. You did it again. And again.

And again.

And again….

Then she covered some of the letters with her hand and pointed to a random one. “What’s this one?”

You hesitated. “Uh… F?”

She shook her head. “Try again.”

You frowned, staring at the rest of the row, mentally replaying her voice in your head. “...G?”

“Yes!” She beamed. “Now this one?”

You pointed. “P?”

She giggled. “That’s a Q. Close though!”

With every repetition, you felt something shift. Like you were actually getting the hang of it.

You started getting more right. You hesitated less. By the time you went through the whole alphabet again, she sat back with a triumphant smile.

“Alright,” she grinned, handing you the stick. “Your turn.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I want you to write my name.”

You laughed nervously. “Omega?”

“Yup! Easy, right?”

“Uh… sure.” You crouched again, stick poised awkwardly in your hand. “Okay… O.”

“Perfect!”

“...M.”

She paused. “Hmm…”

You glanced up as she was pulling a face, lips squished to the side with one eyebrow raised. A funny way to say ‘try again’ without being harsh.

You looked back at the row of letters, furrowing your brow. “Wait… no. That’s N. This is M.”

You corrected yourself and carved it into the dirt.

“Nice!” she beamed. “Keep going!”

It took a few minutes, a few wrong turns, but eventually, you finished all five letters.

“O-M-E-G-A.”

She stared at the letters in the dirt, then at you with wide-eyed glee.

“You did it!”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. Not forced. Not faked. Just real, honest pride.

“Yeah,” you whisper, sitting back. “Guess I did.”

Over the next few days, Tech noticed a pattern.

Every time he approached you about resuming your lessons, you deflected. A quick, polite excuse here. A firm “not today” there. Sometimes you didn’t even look at him when you said it.

At first, he chalked it up to fatigue. You’d been helping the villagers every day; moving debris, rebuilding homes, lifting spirits. But then he started noticing something else.

You were still learning. Just not with him.

From a distance, he saw you under the same wide tree where Omega first brought the stick and drew the letters in the dirt. She was sitting beside you, her arms moving in animated gestures as she pointed at something in the soil. You were watching her, laughing. Your smile was so bright it nearly startled him.

He tilted his head, hands folded behind his back as he watched the exchange from across the field. You used to smile during his lessons too. The first day, you’d grinned when you got your first word right.

He remembered it well.

In fact… he had the recording saved. Privately.

He’d downloaded the footage from his goggles later that night, under the guise of reviewing your reading pattern. But really, he’d wanted to see your smile again. The way your eyes lit up, the little wrinkle in your nose when you laughed.

But slowly, through each lesson, that smile faded. Replaced by hesitation. Then frustration. Then silence.

And now you were smiling again. Just not at him.

That afternoon, while you were away with Hunter and Echo, Tech approached Omega, who was fiddling with the stabiliser plate under the Marauder’s wing.

“May I speak with you for a moment?”

Omega blinked up at him, wiping a bit of grease from her cheek. “Sure!”

He adjusted his goggles. “It’s about her… reading progress. Has she been improving?”

Omega lit up. “Oh yeah! She’s doing so well. She even wrote my name in the dirt without help the other day!”

He nodded slowly, filing away the information. “I see. That is… impressive.”

Omega tilted her head then shrugged. “She said she might try reading a ration label next.”

Tech blinked. “Ration labels?”

“Yep! Said she wants to know what she’s eating before Wrecker makes her try it.” She giggled, then paused. “Why? You don’t think she can learn from me?”

“I did not say that,” he replied quickly, perhaps a bit too stiffly. “I merely did not know what… qualities you might offer that I lacked.”

Omega gave him a long look, then shrugged. “I guess I’m just more fun than you.”

Tech frowned. “Most likely.”

She smirked, but then the teasing faded, and she turned more serious. “She didn’t stop lessons with you because she doesn’t want to learn. She just… got upset.”

Tech’s brows drew together. “Upset? With me?”

Omega nodded, biting her lip. “She told me that she heard something. Well, she overheard you. You were on the ship talking to Echo about her.”

Tech’s mind reeled back. He’d said many things to Echo over the course of those conversations—some blunt, some logical, most private. “I did not say anything bad.”

Omega gave him a tight look. “You told me that she heard you say that it was ‘inefficient’ for her to be on the team because she couldn’t read.”

Tech opened his mouth, paused, then exhaled sharply.

“Ah,” he said at last. Perhaps that came out harsher than he intended.

He hadn’t yelled at you. He hadn’t scolded you. He never once implied you weren’t trying. But now, playing back through someone else’s voice, his words sounded callous.

Omega watched his face, seeing the moment it clicked.

“If it makes you feel better,” Omega started softly, “She doesn’t think you meant it, but it still hurt her. That’s why she’s been sad.”

Tech’s voice was quiet. “I see.”

Omega studied him for a beat. “You really didn’t mean it?”

He hesitated but only for a moment. “No,” he said sincerely. “I believe I was frustrated with myself. Not her. And the lesson was overly advanced. Echo pointed that out.”

Tech sighed through his nose, adjusting his gloves. “I believe I may have allowed my feelings to affect my judgment.”

Omega looks startled. “Your feelings?” She teased.

He looked away. “It is irrelevant.”

But Omega was already grinning. “You like her.”

He adjusted his goggles again, silent but not dismissive.

“I knew it.”

Tech rolled his eyes but then a thought clicked. “Did she inform you of anything else she heard? Possibly regarding my… feelings?”

Omega shook her head, “Nope, but maybe you should speak to her about that to her face.”

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You sat by the old log again, your knees tucked up loosely and your fingers picking at a loose thread on your pants. The sun had started to shift, casting longer shadows across the clearing. Omega was supposed to meet you soon and today's lesson would be under the trees for a change of scenery. Actually she was the one who suggested it, thinking you might like some quiet after spending so much time helping the villagers.

A twig snapped in the distance, and you smiled softly. "Omega?" you called, turning your head toward the sound.

But when the figure stepped through the trees, your breath caught in your throat.

It wasn’t Omega. It was Tech.

He moved towards you, eyes scanning the area until they landed on you. His expression was neutral and composed. Then, you swear that his gaze softened.

You scrambled to your feet, trying to act casual even as your stomach twisted. “Oh—uh, is Hunter looking for me? Do I need to head back to the village?”

Tech shook his head, stopping a few feet from you. “No. The situation there is under control. Echo and Wrecker are assisting, and Omega is occupied with another matter.”

You hesitated. “…So… you’re here instead of her?”

“Yes,” he said plainly. “I thought it appropriate that we talk, also.”

Your stomach sank a little, and you dropped your gaze to your boots, toeing the dirt. “I, um… I’m sorry I didn’t come and tell you I was dropping your lessons.”

“There is no need to apologise,” he replied, his voice measured but… gentler than you expected. “In retrospect, I recognise that my methods were poorly suited to your learning stage. I attempted to teach you material that was far too advanced, and for that, I take full responsibility.”

You looked up slowly, your throat a little tight. “I don’t think I’m ready now either,” you admitted, your voice low.

“That’s perfectly alright,” Tech said simply. “I did not come to resume formal instruction. I only wish to observe what Omega has already taught you.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. His shoulders weren’t tense, and there was no datapad in his hands. He looked reasonably patient which wasn’t what you had been used to.

You still hesitated. But then, he smiled and Maker, your knees almost crumbled beneath you. Curse him for being annoyingly adorable.

“S-sure,” you stammered eventually, barely managing a nod.

He stepped forward and sat beside the log without another word, resting his arms on his knees. You sat back down with him and instinctively held your hand out, ready to ask for the datapad, but Tech gently shook his head.

“Omega mentioned that using the ground has helped you more visually. I see no reason to change a method that has been working.”

You blinked at him, genuinely surprised. “You’re… being very lenient.”

“I’m being adaptable,” he corrected, though the corners of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile again.

You couldn’t help but return a small one of your own. “Alright… what would you like me to do?”

Tech reached into one of his belt pouches and pulled out a long, clean stick—clearly chosen specifically for this.

“Please write out the basic alphabet for me,” he said, offering it to you.

You took it and then you turned toward the dirt, drew a steadying breath, before lowering the stick.

Crouched beside the alphabet you'd just drawn in the dirt, Tech had his hands loosely clasped together. He said nothing as you finished the last letter, and though a part of you itched for his input, he simply observed in silence.

You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

After a moment, he reached into one of his belt pouches again and carefully pulled out a folded stack of flimsi. “Omega prepared some simple quotes,” he explained. “Short phrases. Easier to process at this stage than full documents.”

He handed them over, and you took them carefully, the thin sheets a little crinkled at the edges from being carried around. You glanced down.

The first said: “Wrecker is loud.”

You gave a small huff through your nose.

The second: “Hunter smells like the forest.”

You smiled faintly. You could hear Omega’s voice in your head. As you read them out, slowly but surely, you see Tech nodding beside you with each word you get right.

The third said: “The moon is big.”

Tech, predictably, cleared his throat. “Technically, that is a misleading generalisation. There are thousands of celestial bodies classified as moons, and their size varies depending on the system. Some are smaller than a standard transport—”

You didn’t look up, but your smile widened all the same. You could practically feel the lecture coming.

You kept reading, fumbling only on a couple of the trickier words. The pace was slow, but steady. You were halfway through the last sheet when Tech said, quite suddenly:

“I’m impressed.”

You paused.

Your eyes stayed on the flimsi, but your expression changed. His voice had been gentle, even sincere—but for some reason… it didn’t land the way it used to. Not like before, when any praise from Tech would have lit you up inside.

You slowly lowered the flimsi. “You don’t have to lie to me,” you murmured.

Tech tilted his head slightly, brows drawing together. “I am not lying. I am genuinely impressed by how quickly you’ve picked up the basics. Your progress is tangible.”

But still, you didn’t look up. The compliment just didn’t feel real. Or maybe it felt too late.

There was a long pause before he spoke again.

“It has come to my attention,” he begins carefully, “that you may have overheard a conversation I had with Echo… a few days ago.”

You went still. Your grip on the flimsi tightened slightly. It was not something you wanted to talk about but supposedly getting it out in the open was better than letting it tear you up inside. And judging by Tech’s quieter approach, it was tearing him up too.

You gave a single nod, still not meeting his gaze. “I don’t want to be inefficient to you.”

Tech didn’t respond right away.

Instead, you felt the flimsi gently slip from your hand. He set them then shifted, turning his body slightly more toward you.

You let out a slight exhale when you felt his hand brush against your wrist. Just a light, uncertain touch that was enough to draw your attention.

You turned toward him slowly, sitting up straighter.

“Your strength,” he utters quietly, “has never been in what you already know… but in how determined you are to learn. That’s something even I struggle with.”

You stared at him, lips parted slightly. Your cheeks prickled with heat at the unexpected praise. He didn’t sound like he was saying it just to fix things, he genuinely meant it. “And I am sorry for what you heard. I often say things without thinking of the possible repercussions.

“…Thank you,” you reply softly, voice barely louder than the breeze through the trees.

Tech’s hand withdrew from your wrist, but his gaze lingered, as if searching your expression for more unspoken feelings. After a moment, he cleared his throat gently and adjusted his posture.

“Would you like to resume your lessons with me?” he asked.

You looked at him, your heart still thudding a little too hard. But this time, the words came easily, bright with something lighter than before.

“Yes,” you say quickly, with more eagerness than you meant to let on. “I—I’d like that.”

A flicker of something passed over Tech’s face. Maybe relief. He reached beside him and picked up the remaining flimsis from the small stack, selecting a fresh one before handing it over to you.

“Then let us continue,” he said, voice returning to that familiar cadence you knew; firm, but encouraging.

You straightened up and took the flimsi with both hands, your eyes scanning the first line.

“Wrecker… eats… all… the rations.”

Tech gave a soft snort. “That one may be based on an actual occurrence.”

You smiled and read on. The next was simple too, and the one after that. Occasionally, you stumbled. When you did, Tech didn’t chide—he simply leaned in, pointing softly to the word with a gloved fingertip, his voice low and patient.

“Try this syllable first—yes, exactly. Now the next.”

You did your best to focus on the letters but it was difficult. When he leaned that close, all cognitive thinking was out of the window. His shoulder brushed yours now and then and you could smell the faint metallic tang of his gear, mixed with the sharp scent of oil and a tinge of light sweat. However there was something else entirely him. Every time he moved nearer, your stomach fluttered like a startled flock of birds.

You were just getting into a good rhythm when you picked up the next flimsi from the pile. you could tell even before you started reading that this one was Omega’s doing.

Still, you gave it your best shot.

“Tech… has… fe-…”

You frowned, squinting at the next letters.

“Fe-el… fe-lin… no—”

Your voice trailed off as Tech suddenly reached forward and plucked the flimsi right from your hands, holding it out of view with alarmingly fast reflexes.

“That one,” he said stiffly, “was a mistake. Omega must have included it by error.”

You blinked at him. “I was just starting to get it. I saw both our names.”

He faltered. “Yes, well. She must have been… testing your recognition skills.”

Your frown deepened as you leaned slightly, trying to peer around his shoulder. “What did it say? I recognised ‘Tech’ and my name. But not the rest.”

He looked mildly horrified, holding the flimsi higher as if you might leap up and grab it. “It was… structurally inconsistent.”

“…With what?”

“With the lesson plan.”

You raised an eyebrow, slowly. “So it didn’t not say something?”

Tech cleared his throat, looking up at the sky as though he might find a convenient distraction there. “We should return to the prior reading. I believe you were progressing well.”

Your lips twitched. Despite the warm burn in your cheeks and the racing questions spinning in your head, a flicker of amusement bloomed in your chest. Because Tech was very clearly flustered.

And for once, you weren’t the only one stumbling over your words.

“I believe we should return to the lesson,” Tech resumes, voice slightly higher than usual as a flush creeps up his neck.

You bit your tongue on a grin, letting him have the diversion. For now.

“Fine. But I’ve been struggling with something.”

Tech adjusted his goggles, “Yes?”

“It’s the ‘oo’ sounds,” you said, fiddling with the stick in your hand. “Like… how do I know if it’s pronounced like in ‘book’ or ‘moon’? They look the same to me.”

“Ah,” Tech said, pleased to be back in familiar territory. “That is a very common challenge, even for native speakers of Basic. It is primarily about memorisation, but there are contextual cues…”

He gestured as he spoke, one hand drawing invisible words in the air, the other occasionally flicking toward the dusty alphabet he'd helped you draw earlier. His brow creased adorably in concentration, and it was then that you realised you’d stopped listening to the explanation. Completely.

You were watching him . Watching the way he talked, how his whole body became animated with his words.

It hit you all at once. That same warm flutter you’d felt during your very first lesson with him. When it was just you, and him, and a thousand ways he accidentally made your heart beat faster.

“Tech,” you cut in suddenly, blinking yourself back to focus. “What did Omega write?”

His hand froze mid-gesture. Slowly, his eyes widened behind his goggles. “I… do not believe that is relevant to the lesson.”

Your eyes narrowed with a teasing smirk. “That wasn’t a no.”

He shuffled slightly, edging away as if he was guilty of something.

That was all the confirmation you needed.

You lunged.

He yelped in a surprised sort of way as you dove over his lap, trying to reach the hidden flimsi. “This is not going to help with your literacy!” he protested, trying to fend you off with one arm as he reached behind him with the other.

“Oh, I think it might,” you laughed breathlessly, dodging his elbow and scrambling after the paper. “Consider it a very interactive learning experience!”

“I must protest—!” he began, but you’d already tangled yourself half across him, your fingers grazing the edge of the flimsi just before—

He rolled.

One quick movement and your world flipped, quite literally. Your back presses into the warm ground as he pinned you there. Tech hovered over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other knocking the flimsi just out of reach again.

You stilled.

He stilled.

Both of you froze in the silence that followed, hearts pounding. It wasn't from the mock wrestling, but from the fact that now Tech was so close. His goggles were slightly askew, and the wild fluster in his expression was undeniable.

Neither of you spoke. Not at first. Your hands were still tangled in the folds of his armour, his knee pressing into the dirt beside your hip, his weight above you holding you firmly in place.

“…This is also not helping with your literacy,” he said finally.

“I really didn’t mean to upset you,” he then speaks quietly, breath catching halfway through.

Your own voice was soft when you answered. “It’s okay. I’ve had two really good teachers.”

The wind picked up gently, brushing strands of hair across your face, and carrying with it the flimsis that had been scattered beside the log. You didn’t even notice them dancing away at first, neither of you willing to look anywhere else but at each other.

Your gaze broke from his however when a pale scrap fluttered to the ground just beside your hip, its scrawled ink catching your eye.

And you read it aloud before you could think twice.

“‘Tech has feelings… for…’” you read slowly, your breath catching, “f-for… y-you.”

Silence followed.

Tech didn’t speak.

Didn’t even correct your pronunciation.

Instead, his eyes dropped from yours, and you watched as the heat crept up his neck, blooming across his ears. He cleared his throat, the motion stiff and unconvincing. “That… appears to be the one Omega wrote.”

Your heart thudded. You didn’t know what to do at first or what to say. You had dreamed of hearing those words, but somehow reading them yourself felt like a different kind of victory.

Slowly, you reached for the hand he’d braced beside your head, your fingers brushing his. There was hesitation in your touch, and something in it made him glance up, brows drawn.

“I have feelings for you too,” you said softly, carried on a nervous breath.

He stared at you with those beautiful wide eyes, clearly stunned. “You… do?”

A warm laugh slipped out of you. “I do.”

And before you could say anything else, before you could even process the shift in his gaze, Tech slid an arm around your back and pulled you upright with unexpected, fluid strength.

You gasped as you landed squarely in his lap, eyes wide, your hands flying instinctively to his shoulders. “Tech!” you squeaked.

But his hands found your waist, firm but gentle, grounding you again.

He was impossibly close now. Goggles still a little wonky, breathing slightly elevated. “I believe,” he starts softly, “I no longer require you to read aloud whether I may kiss you.”

A grin tugged at your lips, heart hammering as your fingers brushed the curve of his cheek and then carefully fixing his goggles. “Well,” you murmured, barely more than a breath, “I don’t mind at all.”

The kiss met you halfway, tentative for a moment, then deepening with quiet certainty. His lips were soft, tasting of sunlight and stored-up longing, his hand moving to cradle the back of your neck like you were something rare, fragile and cherished.

And as the trees whispered overhead and a forgotten scrap of flimsi fluttered past your boots, all thoughts of lessons, of hesitation, of past hurt all melted away.

The lesson was over.

But something else had only just begun

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel @stellarbit @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez

[erellenora]

they kiss and stuff

[erellenora]

Andor Who Else Knows? | 2.11

[erellenora]

Liar Liar (Part 10/?)

Part 10 - Seeing Double // <<< Part 9

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female Reader

🫧Chapter Summary: When work is getting too much, you go to 79's to try blow off some steam. But, you find yourself living bitter memories and jealousy.

🫧Warnings: Angst, alcohol mention, light flirting, jealousy, arguing, awkward moments. Dancing, miscommunication, Drama drama dramaaaa (I’m convinced nobody reads these warnings)

The following week was exhausting.

Somehow—Force knows how—Thire and Hound had convinced you to stay.

It had taken hours of back-and-forth, of them wearing you down with reassurances and well-meaning arguments, but in the end, you let them win. Stone, however, remained blissfully unaware of the whole ordeal. Not for lack of trying, though. You’d bet a million credits that he had been pestering Thire and Hound at least a dozen times, demanding to know what was going on.

But, just as Fox had promised, he was too preoccupied with Coruscant’s safety to linger in the office. Not only was Rik Walder still at large, but riots and fires had been breaking out in the lower sectors of Coruscant so his work pile had doubled.

You saw very little of him, only ever catching traces of his presence in the form of an empty caf cup pile steadily accumulating on his desk. Yet somehow, even without seeing him, the weight of everything still lingered.

At least Pia had been keeping you distracted. She messaged every night, checking in, filling the empty space with something lighter. It helped. And with Fox nowhere in sight, the ache in your chest had started to dull.

Unfortunately, the ache in your head was another story.

The systems were a disaster. What you had initially assumed was a one-time mishap with reports and patrol logs had spiraled into an ongoing nightmare.

Errors crept in like clockwork, reports misfiled, schedules jumbled. No one could even work out how it was happening. Technicians were brought in, sifting through the logs for signs of hacking and slicing but nothing. Nada.

Everything was now even triple-checked before uploads, and yet, somehow, the mistakes kept slipping through. And Thorn -bless his soul- was barely holding it together.

He loomed over everyone’s desks like a vulture, giving reminders, breathing down necks. You liked Thorn as a Commander well enough, but if you heard “make sure it’s secure again” one more time, you might throw yourself out the window.

But at least now it was your lunch break. And you could get some peace and quiet. Almost.

“Plans for tonight?” You looked up from your tray in the cafeteria, spoon hovering mid-air, to see Hound and Stone standing in front of you.

“Sleep,” you muttered, eyeing the unrecognisable grey slop on your spoon. “Why?”

“We’re going to 79’s.” Stone rolled his eyes. “I need a break from all these kriffing error checks.”

Your stomach twisted. 79’s. “I don’t know…” You trailed off, letting the spoonful of slop fall back onto your tray with an unceremonious splat.

Hound shot you a knowing look, knowing full well why you didn’t want to go. But Stone, still in the dark, pressed on. “Come on,” he coaxed, grinning. “It’ll be fun. Thire’s going too, though let’s be honest, he’s only going to see your friend.” He waggled his brows.

Your ears perked up. “Pia’s working tonight?” Now that had your interest.

It had been over a week since you last saw her, and the last time you had, you were ugly crying into her arms while devouring an obscene amount of sweet treats. You needed a new memory that was less embarrassing.

You also wanted to know if the two of them ended up on a date, too.

Hound gave you a small nudge of encouragement. “What do ya say? You need a break. Just a few drinks, some bad music, and—” he smirked, “—watching Thire completely lose his cool over Pia.”

You exhaled through your nose, arms crossed. “I’ll think about it.”

“You don’t have to drink,” he added quickly. “Or stay long. But you do need to get out of this place before Thorn gives himself an aneurysm.”

Stone grinned. “You’re coming. I can see it in your face.”

You rolled your eyes, but the thought of a change of scenery and even of normalcy, even for a night was becoming harder to resist. You didn’t want to keep avoiding places just because he had been there. You weren’t about to let Fox ruin 79’s for you.

“Fine,” you muttered, “I’ll go.”

Stone clapped his hands together. “Good. Now you’re making smart choices.”

Hound shot you another look, quieter this time almost as if he was checking in, making sure you were really okay with this. You gave him a small nod. You’d be fine. One night wouldn’t hurt.

Right?

“Oh, and since you’re here—" You barely had time to react before Stone pulled a handful of data pucks from his belt, holding them out like an afterthought. "Can you drop these off with Officer Sinja? The new one?"

Before you could protest, he unceremoniously dumped them onto your tray—right on top of the unappetising slop—then bolted, Hound trailing behind him with a barely concealed grin.

Unbelievable.

Then again, running an errand was still preferable to forcing down whatever questionable meal the kitchen had concocted today. With a resigned sigh, you picked up the data pucks, abandoning your tray altogether.

At least it gave you something to do. Something that didn’t involve system errors, Thorn breathing down your neck, or—

No. You weren’t going to think about him .

Tucking the pucks securely into your belt pouch, you made your way through the corridors, weaving past troopers and officers alike. The station was as busy as ever, filled with the usual hum of voices, boots against durasteel, and the occasional curse from a frustrated officer and new prisoners being escorted to the cells in the lower levels.

It was all fine. Normal.

Until you passed that same vent.

It was shut . But you could have sworn that just for a second, you had seen it shift. Like it had just barely snapped back into place after being moved.

You swallowed, glancing around. The corridor was empty now. Too empty.

You're imagining things. You had to be. Between the stress, the lack of sleep, and the mess of emotions still tangled inside you, it was no surprise your mind was playing tricks. If anything was in the vents after all, it would have been set off in the security alerts.

With a tense inhale, you forced yourself to keep walking, quickening your pace. Maybe getting out tonight really was a good idea.

It isn’t long until you realised you had another problem on your hands that wasn’t the data pucks. The problem was that you had no idea who Officer Sinja actually was.

With a frown, you realised you’d left your datapad in the office, and the idea of trekking all the way back for it just to turn around again made you groan internally. But if your memory served you correctly, Sinja might’ve been that young officer you’d spoken to in the hangar once—back when you were looking for Whisky.

That was as good a place as any to start.

You reached the lift, hitting the button and waiting as the numbers flickered down. The doors slid open, and you stepped inside, selecting your floor. The red lights above blinked with each passing level, and you exhaled.

Then you noticed one light turn green. Someone else was about to join you.

You shuffled toward the side, hoping— praying —it wasn’t a horde of astromechs again. The last time that happened, you’d been wedged into the corner while seven droids piled in, then spent four hours trapped when the lift broke down.

With a small wince at the memory, you kept your gaze down as the doors opened, waiting for whoever was about to step in.

As the door opened, your gaze inadvertently travelled along the floor when you spoke a pair of white boots. And then as your gaze moved up, a deep red stripe along the knee plates.

Instantly, your head snapped up and your eyes lock onto the visor that was probably the last one you wanted to.

Your body stiffened, fingers curling at your sides. He froze, too, hovering at the threshold like he’d just walked into a battlefield unarmed. For a second, neither of you moved.

Then he shifted back a step. “I’ll get the next one.”

His voice was gruff, controlled. But he wasn’t looking at you. His helmet was tilted just slightly toward the floor, like if he didn’t see you, this wouldn’t be happening.

You weren’t sure why you did it. Your body moved before your mind could catch up, and suddenly, your hand shot out, stopping the door from sealing. “N-no, it’s okay,” you said, voice quieter than intended. “There’s enough room.”

Fox hesitated. You swore you felt the weight of his stare even though you couldn’t see his eyes. He glanced between your hand and your face, as if trying to decode something—why you’d stopped him, why you would let him in.

Stiffly, he nodded and stepped inside.

The air in the lift grew heavy the second the doors slid shut.

He reached forward to press his floor button, and you clasped your hands behind your back, hoping he couldn’t see the way your fingers trembled.

The silence that settled between you was thick, stretched taut like a wire about to snap.

The lift hummed. A steady, low vibration beneath your feet.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “How’s your hand?”

The question startled you. You blinked, glancing at your palm—the one you’d burned on scalding caf last week.

“Fine,” you managed, though it came out too high-pitched, too breathy. You cleared your throat. “Uh, the medic put some kind of gel—or spray—on it. I don’t know. But yeah, it’s fine.”

Fox shifted on his feet, rocking slightly on his heels. “Good,” he murmured. “That’s good.”

You nodded, unsure what else to say.

The tension wasn’t budging. It was thick, suffocating, like the walls were about to close in like a trash compactor.

You sucked in a slow breath, then blurted out, “How’s, uh… life?”

Really? That was the best you could come up with?

Fox exhaled, the sound somewhere between amusement and exhaustion. “Same old, same old.”

Except it wasn’t. You heard it in his voice—the weight of something unspoken.

Maybe small talk wasn’t the worst idea. Maybe if you could just talk to him, things would feel less… tangled. You risked a glance at him, but it only made your stomach tighten and heart sink.

“Any luck on that prisoner?”

This time, he did sigh, lifting a gloved hand to his helmet as if pinching the bridge of his nose beneath it. “No. Nothing yet.”

“Oh.” You shifted uncomfortably.

“Are you… worried?” He didn’t turn his head, but you caught the slight tilt of his helmet as he regarded you from the corner of his visor.

“Sure,” you admitted. “From his record, I don’t remember anything particularly pleasant. I just… hope you catch him.”

“Yeah,” Fox murmured. “Me too.”

Are we not there yet?

The silence stretched again.

“Haircut?”

This time you looked at him, raising a brow. “S-Sorry?”

“Your hair… looks different.”

Your hand moves to your hair as if it wasn’t you who had washed, brushed it and styled it this morning. “Uh, no.” You say almost sheepishly. “I’m just wearing it up today.”

“Oh, yeah. Obviously.” Fox swallows, looking away from you.

You inhaled slowly—then regretted it immediately.

He still smelled the same. That warm, familiar scent that clung to your memory, pulling you back to that night in the cab. To the way he’d drawn you close, arm slung over your shoulders, voice murmuring into your ear…

You swallowed hard.

“Any plans this evening?”

His voice snapped you back to the present, and you jolted. “Oh—uh. Yeah. Hound asked me to go to 79’s with him.”

Silence. A few seconds too long.

“He did?”

There was something odd in his tone. Strained.

You suddely realised how that might have sounded. “And Stone,” you clarified quickly. “They both invited me. Y-You could come too.”

Fox didn’t speak at first. Then, briskly, he nodded. “You deserve a break.” He settled.

Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten. You tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I guess. Though instead of actually taking a break, I’m running errands for Stone.”

Fox tilted his head—a familiar motion, one you now hated to admit looked adorable on him. “Why?”

You explained the data pucks, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you felt the eye-roll behind his visor. “Could he not do it himself?”

“Obviously not,” you muttered, sighing.

The lift still wasn’t there yet.

“Do you even know who Officer Sinja is?”

“Kind of.” You hesitated. “I think I met him in the hangar once.”

Fox let out a breath and nodded. “You did. That’s him.”

You resisted the urge to shift again. You remembered that conversation now. Sinja had been smooth-talking, arrogant in a way that could be charming or insufferable depending on the day. And you remembered something else, too:

Fox had been watching.

The lift finally dinged.

The doors hissed open, revealing your destination and Fox stepped aside giving you room to pass.

But for a moment, you didn’t move.

And you weren’t sure why.

The air felt different now. The weight of his presence behind you pressed against your skin, a silent question hovering in the air between you both.

Then, just as the door started to close, Fox stopped it with his foot.

His voice was quiet when he asked, “Is this where you want to be?”

The question wasn’t just about the floor. It wasn’t just about the lift.

It was about him .

Was this where you wanted to be? Standing on the edge of something unresolved, pretending it didn’t hurt?

Your breath hitched. Then, softly, you nodded.

“Yes.”

And you stepped out.

You walked ahead, not looking back but you felt his stare on you and you will yourself not to look back.

Although, you find yourself really wanting to.

⋅⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅⋅

Getting ready for 79’s took longer than it should have.

You stood in front of your closet, arms crossed, debating over what to wear like it actually mattered. It didn’t, really. It was just a night out; a distraction. But something in your gut told you to put in the effort.

Your fingers skimmed over the fabric hanging before you, pausing when they brushed against something familiar. Soft material, deep red.

The dress.

You pulled it from the rack, letting it drape over your hands, the weight of it heavier than it should’ve been. It was the one you’d worn that night. The night with him . The one that never really got to happen.

A sigh escaped you as you ran a hand through your hair. You should have let Pia keep it when you left it at hers. Stars, maybe you should’ve burned it. But… you hadn’t.

And you weren’t sure what that said about you.

“Whatever,” you muttered, shoving it back and reaching for something else.

A top you hadn’t worn in a while. A skirt that felt a little daring (in your eyes, at least). Heels that deserved a night out, even if they’d make you regret it in the morning.

It wasn’t for anyone in particular. Just for you . That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

79’s was alive with its usual chaotic energy by the time you arrived.

Music thumped through the walls, a steady bassline that vibrated under your feet. The scent of cheap alcohol and something fried lingered in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of sweat and polished plastoid. Conversations overlapped, voices rising and falling, troopers crowded around tables, shouting over drinks, some even dancing, playing hologames. or just simply blowing off steam after another long shift.

You moved through the bodies, sidestepping a trooper who nearly sloshed his drink on you, and made your way to the bar. Settling onto a stool, you scanned for a familiar face. It didn’t take long as Pia was in the thick of it, handling a rush of orders.

When your eyes met, she practically lit up, waving so energetically you thought she might knock over the bottle she was reaching for. Instead, she managed to steady it at the last second, shooting you a quick ‘one sec’ before turning back to pour a round of shots.

“A beauty, isn’t she?” You turned to see Thire settling into the stool beside you, his eyes fixed on Pia with such open admiration it was almost laughable.

You grinned. “Always has been.”

Thire exhaled, like he was trying to play it cool but failing spectacularly. “We went out last night.”

“Oh?” You leaned in, thoroughly enjoying his smug expression. “And?”

He smirked, slow and self-satisfied. “It went great .”

Before you could pry for details, Pia finally made her way over, all confidence as she purred, “Hey, hot stuff.”

Thire barely suppressed a grin, straightening. “Hey, you—”

“I was talking to her,” Pia cut in smoothly, glancing your way with a mischievous smirk.

You snorted into your drink, and Thire’s face immediately fell, mouth snapping shut.

Pia, delighted with herself, laughed before leaning over the bar and pressing a kiss to Thire’s cheek. Just like that, his mood rebounded, his smirk returning in full force.

“Hey, you,” he murmured, clearly savouring the moment.

You rolled your eyes. “You two are cute. I hate it.”

Pia winked as she reached for a glass. “You love it.

She slid a drink across the bar toward you with a flourish. “On the house.”

You frowned. “Pia—”

“Nope.” She folded her arms. “As long as I’m working here, you don’t owe me a single credit.”

You sighed, eyeing the drink, then her. “Fine. But I’m buying you food later.”

She considered this, then gave a slow nod. “I’ll allow it.”

Shaking your head, you turned your attention back to Thire. “Stone and Hound here yet?”

Thire rolled his eyes. “They’re outside. One of the new shinies from the 212th had one too many shots and thought he could go round-for-round with a Corrie.”

You snorted. “Let me guess, thought he could hold his liquor?”

Thire smirked. “Poor bastard didn’t even make it past the third shot.”

The three of you fell into easy conversation, drinks flowing. Pia and Thire were perfect for each other, bounced off each other and you had to try and suppress a jealous feeling in your stomach.

Eventually, Thire finished off his drink and stood with a stretch. “Gonna go check in on the lads.”

Before he could step away, Pia grabbed his hand, tugging him back just enough to steal a quick kiss. “Don’t start any fights.”

Thire grins down at her. “No promises.” She swatted his arm, laughing as he disappeared into the crowd.

Alone now, Pia wiped down the bar as the onslaught of clones dwindled before leaning forward against the counter. There was a look on her face, hesitant but knowing, and you could already guess where this was going.

“You can ask if you want,” you muttered, swirling the ice in your glass.

Pia sighed. “How’s the thing with you and Fox?”

You exhaled slowly, staring into your drink. “There is no ‘ thing’ to begin with. I just… feel weird whenever I’m near him.”

Pia arched a brow. “Weird how?”

You hesitated, then told her about the lift; the tension, the awkward small talk, the way Fox had hesitated before stepping inside and how you let him in in the first place. How, for a brief moment, you’d both just stood there when the doors opened, neither of you moving.

Pia, for once, was quiet. You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

She bit her lip, choosing her words carefully. “Don’t hate me because I know how much this upset you… but do you think it’s worth possibly exploring something with him? As Fox?”

You stared at Pia, almost disgusted at the thought. “He lied to me, Pia”

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I know, I know. And I’m not saying what he did was right, because it wasn’t. But—”

“Oh, there’s a but now?” You huffed, crossing your arms.

Pia gave you a look, the kind that said don’t be difficult , but she pressed on anyway. “We know he didn’t do it to mess with you. He didn’t do it to get you fired. Or humiliate you. Or as some kind of stupid prank.” She shook her head, watching you closely. “He did it all on his own. No one put him up to it.”

You scoffed, looking away and back down at your drink. “Right. And that makes it better ?”

“I just think…” Pia hesitated, then continued carefully, “Maybe he really liked you.”

The words twisted something in your chest, but you forced a bitter laugh. “Doubt it.”

Your mind went back to that night in the refresher—the way you had cornered him, raw and desperate for the truth, asking if any of it had meant something, if anything he said was true. But he had just stood there. Silent. No answer. No confirmation. Not even a single damn word to give you peace of mind.

Pia studied you, but she must have seen the storm in your expression because she softened. “You should talk to him.”

You tensed. “No.”

“Just hear him out.”

“No.”

She groaned, throwing her hands up. “Oh, for kriff’s sake, will you just —”

“What ? ” You snapped, voice sharp enough to cut through the noise of the bar. “Let you and Thire push me into talking to him? Try and set us up again like you’re some kind of miracle workers? Just because your love life is suddenly peachy doesn’t mean I should forgive someone who deceived me and embarrassed me!”

Pia’s expression flickered with hurt and frustration. Then, with a shake of her head, she muttered, “I need to serve someone on the other side of the bar,” and walked away.

The moment she was gone, guilt sank its teeth into you.

You knew she only meant well. She always did. But she didn’t know what it felt like to build a connection with someone, to feel that pull toward them, only to find out it had all been a lie .

Nobody did.

You huffed, rubbing your temples and slouching forward on the bar. Everything inside you felt messy and tangled.

You felt sorry for yourself, sure, but you felt even worse for Pia. Her usual spark, that infectious joy that lit up every corner of a room, was gone. She moved mechanically behind the bar now, polite but muted, handing drinks over with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Your gaze drifted across the room, zeroing in on the empty stool near the far end of the bar. That stool. The one Fox had sat at the first night you met ‘Whisky’. You stared at it like it might conjure him if you focused hard enough—but it didn’t. It just sat there. Vacant. And the longer you stared at it, the more your gut twisted with confusion.

Would you ignore him if he were there now? Would you walk up and demand answers? Or would you crumble under the weight of everything you still felt, despite how badly you wanted to be over it? Over him?

Frustrated, you let your head fall into your hands with a groan.

“Can I refill your drink?”

The voice came from behind, a little too smooth to be accidental. You blinked, lifting your head and glancing over your shoulder.

A clone stood there—handsome, of course. They always were. But this one was clearly a shiny. Stark white armour, no markings, no scuffs. Practically fresh out the vat. He gave you a charming smile, the kind that probably worked on half the people in here already tonight.

You lifted your glass, giving it a tiny shake before setting it back down. “I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

He moved to your side, still keeping a respectful distance, like he’d been trained well in the art of not being pushy. “No worries. Just saw you sitting here. Looked like you needed a bit of a pick-me-up.”

You snorted softly. “That obvious, huh?”

“Well,” he said with a playful shrug, “you’ve got that look.”

You arched a brow. “What look?”

He grinned. “The ‘I need someone to come over and distract me from whatever is eating me alive’ look.”

You let out a laugh “You might be onto something.”

He leaned a little closer, his tone lighter. “So… how about a dance? Just one. You look like you could use a little movement therapy.”

You hesitated, glancing down at your half-finished drink, then back toward the empty stool across the bar. The music was loud, the bass thrumming through your chest, and the lingering buzz from your drink made everything just a little warmer, a little fuzzier around the edges.

Screw it. What’s one dance?

“Okay,” you said, pointing a mock-stern finger at him. “But no funny business.”

“Cross my heart,” he said, miming the gesture with a grin.

You let him lead you to the center of the dance floor, bodies pulsing and swaying around you in time with the beat. The music was thunderous, the lights casting bright flashes across the room, and for once, you let yourself lean into it.

The liquid courage you had been served by Pia made your moves smooth, fluid even. As for the Clone, he danced like he knew exactly where the line was and kept it friendly, playful, respectful.

It was exactly what you needed. A distraction. A little freedom.

The clone spun you smoothly with a boyish grin, and as the beat picked up again, he leaned closer and asked with a playful lift of his brow, “Another?”

You hesitated for a breath, eyeing his outstretched hand. He looked so eager, so harmless in his own cheeky little way—and truthfully, the night had already gone off the rails emotionally. What was a little more harmless chaos?

“Screw it,” you muttered and took his hand.

He beamed and pulled you right back into the rhythm, both of you swaying to the beat. This time, though, he dared a little more—his hand found your waist, featherlight at first, just testing. Waiting for the pushback.

You didn’t give it.

His confidence kicked in. The grip on your hip firmed just a little, and his other hand stayed loosely linked with yours as he guided you through the crowd. His voice was warm and easygoing as he leaned in. “You dance pretty well for someone who looked like she was about to cry into her drink.”

You shot him a glare. “Wow. You always this smooth?”

“Only when it’s working.” His grin widened.

“You trying to pick me up, shiny?”

“That depends. Is it working?”

You snorted, tilting your head with faux-seriousness. “A little. But I’m still undecided.”

“Good. I like a challenge.” He winked.

The conversation was easy and natural. His flirting was cheeky enough to be fun without being suffocating. You were actually enjoying yourself—laughing even—as you both leaned in close to hear each other over the pounding bass, your bodies swaying in tandem.

And then you saw him.

Over the clone’s shoulder, you caught a glimpse of red armor moving past the crowd. Fox.

Just off to the side of the bar, leaning against it with his usual practiced stillness, arm braced as he reached for a drink offered by one of the droids. Pia was nowhere near him—and of course she wasn’t. You knew she wouldn’t serve him.

But your body froze.

The clone you were with was still talking but his words came through like static.

Because then she appeared.

A woman. Striking. Stunning.

She stepped up beside Fox with all the familiarity of someone who knew him well. You watch as her hand lands lightly on his forearm, leaning in to speak.

Your stomach twisted.

That sick, lurching ache started in your chest and crawled down your spine. It was a feeling you knew all too well—the same hollow punch you’d felt when you caught your ex sneaking around behind your back.

Except this wasn’t your ex. And he wasn’t yours.

“I’m Whisky, by the way.”

The voice snapped you back like a slap. You blinked, suddenly aware of the clone’s hand still on your waist, his face inches from yours, smiling.

“What?”

He tilted his head, confused by your expression. “My name,” he said, still smiling. “Whisky, ma’am.”

Your world spun.

You simply stare at the clone. Your voice had vanished, like your brain refused to make sense of what he’d just said.

“Is that a joke?” you manage, the words flat and shaky.

He shifts, confused. “Ma’am?”

Completely unaware of the war now erupting inside your head, he blinks at your sudden switch in emotion as you pull away from his touch.

“Did I say something wrong—?”

“I have to go,” you rasp, voice barely holding together. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t wait for his response. Couldn’t. You turned and pushed through the crowd, shoulder brushing shoulders, limbs catching on others mid-dance. The music was suddenly thunderous, pounding through your chest like your heartbeat was syncing with the bass. Lights flashed, voices shouted, laughter echoed—but it all blurred into a wash of noise that had now swallowed you whole.

You felt like the walls were closing in. Your breath came short. Too many bodies. Too many faces. Too much everything.

You finally broke through the crush at the exit and staggered into the cold night. A gust of chilled air slammed into your lungs, and you gasped like someone who had been drowning.

Your hands trembled as you leaned against the nearest post near the cab bay, chest heaving like you’d just run a marathon. But it wasn’t exertion and it wasn’t the alcohol.

It was the cruel, gut-punch realisation of how fate had twisted the knife.

What were the odds?

Falling for a man who lied and called himself Whisky —only to later dance with the real one . A clone who was bright, kind, flirtatious… and had done absolutely nothing wrong except exist.

You let out a bitter laugh that barely made it past your lips. What’s joke.

But then your mind cruelly drifted to him again. Fox.

The flash of red armour, the drink in hand. The woman beside him. Her fingers brushing his forearm.

Pia’s voice echoed in your head, maddening and far too well-timed. "Maybe he really liked you."

You let out a breathless, humourless huff. “Yeah. Joke’s on me.”

“You alright?”

You flinched, spinning so fast on your heel you nearly toppled over. Luckily you were caught by a hand on your shoulder that belonged to Hound.

He steadied you with ease, his brow furrowed in concern as he took in your sickly expression, watery eyes, and unsteady stance.

“Too much to drink, eh?”

You tried to speak. Tried to wave it off, make a joke, anything . But nothing came.

Then he saw it, your eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“Wait, hey,” he said, voice dropping in concern. “Are you alright?”

You broke.

The emotion hit you like a crashing wave as you stumbled forward and sobbed into your hands, chest heaving under the weight of it all. “I feel so stupid , Hound,” you choked, the tears falling now, unrelenting, hot against your cheeks. “I—I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I feel so… so…”

But the words failed you. Because how could you even begin to explain it? The betrayal, the confusion, the jealousy, the aching longing for something that might never have been real in the first place?

Hound didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to offer clumsy comfort or tell you that everything would be okay. Instead, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you

One strong arm crossed your back, the other settling gently at your shoulder as he pulled you into his chest without hesitation. You collapsed into him, clinging to the warmth and stability he offered like it might keep you from falling apart entirely. His hand moved slowly in comforting circles across your back

You didn’t know how long you stood there like that, locked in a silent embrace under the hazy streetlight glow outside 79’s. But eventually, the storm inside you dulled just enough for you to pull away, still sniffling as you swiped your cheeks with trembling fingers.

You exhaled, shaky and uneven, and looked up into the night sky in a vain attempt to keep any more tears from spilling. “Sorry, Hound.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he said simply, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t like seeing you like this. None of us do.”

You tried to smile, but it didn’t quite make it past your lips. “I don’t think Fox would care.”

But Hound just shook his head slowly, lips pursing in quiet disagreement. “He definitely would.”

You let out a bitter, disbelieving scoff—but nausea coiled in your stomach at the memory of Fox at the bar. The look on his face. The way the woman touched his arm. That stupid, stupid beautiful woman.

“I’d like to believe that,” you said hollowly, “but if he told me? I wouldn’t believe him.”

Hound didn’t push. He only nodded solemnly and raised a hand to signal a cab. “Get some rest, this thing you’re going through will pass.”

When one pulled up, you stepped toward it, but not before snapping a little too sharply: “I’m not going through anything.”

The silence that followed stung.

You closed your eyes, hating how your voice had cracked, how petty it sounded—even to you. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, quieter this time. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know,” Hound said gently.

The cab hissed open, and just as you stepped forward, he pulled out a handful of credits and handed them to the driver before you could protest. You gave him a small, wordless nod and climbed in.

As the cab pulled away, taking you from a rather terrible evening.

As Hound turned, ready to rejoin Thire and Stone, he stills as he came face to face with Fox.

The commander was standing rigid, eyes locked on the departing cab, his jaw tense and unreadable. A heavy silence settled between them before Fox stepped forward, his tone sharp and bitter.

“That looked cosy.”

Ah. There it was.

Jealousy.

Hound’s face remained calm, but his mouth tightened ever so slightly. “Probably looked the same way you and that civvie looked. You know, the woman at the bar. Same one you were with in the same spot you first talked to her.”

Fox’s face twisted in frustration, already shaking his head. “It wasn’t like that. She was just thanking me. I pulled her out of that apartment fire in Sector Eight the other night.”

Hound raised a brow. “I believe you. She didn’t.”

Fox’s fists clenched tighter as he gave the ground a frustrated kick, scuffing his boot against the duracrete with a low growl that sounded far more dramatic than he intended. “How the kriff am I making things worse when I’m not even with her?”

Hound leaned lazily against the railing beside him, arms folded, watching traffic streak past on the levels below. “I thought you said you talked to her today?”

Fox groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “I tried. I think I said something about her hair.”

There was a pause. “…Her hair ?” Hound’s lips twitched, and Fox didn’t have to look to know he was holding back laughter.

“I panicked, alright?” Fox muttered. “It looked nice and I forgot how to be a person. My brain turned into soup.”

Hound finally let out a low chuckle, patting him condescendingly on the shoulder. “Smooth. Real smooth.”

Fox glared at him but didn’t deny it.

“I just—” he exhaled hard. “Is there even a point anymore? She was dancing with some shiny tonight, probably moved on. And then there was you ,” he added with a bitter edge, side-eyeing Hound. “She had her arms all over you.”

Hound didn’t even flinch. He just slapped Fox on the back of the head.

“ Ow. ”

“She was crying,” Hound said flatly. “She is not into me, she was just upset. And like I told you, she saw you with that civvie at the bar and her whole face changed. She looked like someone punched her in the gut.”

Fox instantly panicked when he heard you was crying, worried that you had been hurt Fox blinked. “Wait… you think she was jealous ?”

“Yeah,” Hound said, nodding. “I do. And you know what that means.”

“That she wants to feed me to a rancor?” Fox guessed.

“That she still cares , idiot.”

Fox went quiet, staring down at the passing speeders below. He chewed the inside of his cheek, thoughts tripping over each other. She cares. She was jealous. She danced with someone else but still cried about me. Okay. That’s good. Terrible. Confusing. But good. Kinda.

“…She’s still pissed at me, though.”

“Oh, that’s a given,” Hound said, clapping him on the back again. “But maybe that’s not a bad thing. Means she still gives a care. And before you ask, no, I am not speaking to her on your behalf.”

Fox sighed, leaning on the railing beside him. “So what do I do?”

Hound raised a brow. “Figure out what you want to say. Then actually say it before you combust.”

Fox nodded slowly, eyes narrowing in determination. “Okay,” he muttered, “but just to be clear… I’m never mentioning her hair again.”

🦊 Liar Liar Masterlist

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[erellenora]

Liar Liar (Part 9/?)

Part 9 - Boiling Point // <<< Part 7

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female Reader

🫧 word count: it’s long

🫧Chapter summary: As things start to get creepy at work, you brace yourself for a world of heartache when you finally come face to face with Fox.

🫧warnings: alot of angst and tears. Minor burn injury, explicit language. Copied and pasted from ao3 and I really can’t be bothered to go back and minimise the paragraph spaces lol . Also not proofread.

The next morning, nausea settled deep in your stomach, an unpleasant mix of last night’s drinks, too many sweets, and the lingering weight of everything that had happened. You’d left Pia’s pretty late, more than a little tipsy, and now it felt like your body was punishing you for it.

You lay in bed, staring at the chrono on the wall, watching the minutes tick by. You could call in sick. You could just stay here, curl up under the blankets, and ignore the galaxy for a day. But then what? Tomorrow would come, and you’d still have to face this mess.

With a deep breath, you forced yourself up and shuffled into the refresher. The shower was quick, brisk, and did little to clear the fog in your head. Steam clung to the mirror, and when you wiped it away, your own tired reflection stared back at you; eyes still puffy from crying, lips pressed into a tight line.

“You can do this,” you whispered to yourself.

And that’s when you made up your mind to stay in bed.

Well, that’s what you kept saying that you should have done as you walked down the long and seemingly endless hallways of the facility.

You walked with your head down, keeping your pace quick and not stopping to acknowledge anyone. If they were looking at you, you didn’t want to know.

Then, before you even realised, your feet stopped in front of the office door.

Voices carried from inside. You knew them all, of course. But you didn’t move.

What if he was in there?

What if Thire had told people? What if they were all waiting for you, ready to mock your stupidity? The thought alone made your stomach churn harder. You suddenly felt overheated, suffocated by the walls around you.

A deep, rhythmic thumping pounds in your ears. At first you thought it was just your heart, hammering too fast, but then it grew louder. It didn’t match the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat. No, this was something else. It was coming from somewhere around you.

You blinked, a chill creeping down your spine but the noise stopped just as suddenly as it had started.

You find yourself looking up, eyes scanning the ceiling that carried the ventilaition system everywhere. You felt cold, uncomfortable. Like you were being watched. Perhaps it was your paranoia, perhaps it was-

“Hey, you alright?” You nearly jumped out of your skin. Whipping around, you saw Thire standing there, watching you closely.

“Uh—yeah, I was just…” Your voice faltered. The words wouldn’t come. It felt impossible to even look at him.

Thire studied you for a moment before resting a firm hand on your shoulder. “C’mere for a second.”

You didn’t protest, letting him steer you away from the flow of clones and officers passing through the corridor. He led you toward a supply closet, opening the door and motioning for you to step inside before closing it behind him.

For a moment, you both just stood there. The dim lighting made the small space feel even tighter.

Thire pulled off his bucket, tucking it under his arm before meeting your gaze. His brows furrowed slightly. “How are you feeling about… y’know?”

You exhaled sharply, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “Like absolute bantha crap.”

Thire sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I bet. But I promise that I haven’t said a word to anyone.”

You nodded, letting out a slow breath. “Thanks.”

“Didn’t know a damn thing about it either,” he admitted. “None of us did.”

That made you look up. “Really?”

He shook his head. “I swear. If I had any idea what Fox was doing, I would’ve called him out on it. We all would have.” His jaw tightened slightly. “That’s… not how we do things.”

Something in your chest eased, just a little. You wanted to believe him, needed to. Because if the others had known, if they’d just let it happen, that would have made it so much worse.

“I appreciate that,” you say quietly.

Thire nodded again, then frowned slightly. “You don’t have to be here today, you know. If you need time, I can cover for you.”

Your first instinct was to brush it off, to say you were fine. But the truth was, you weren’t. And right now, the thought of sitting at your station, pretending like everything was normal, felt unbearable.

“…I might take you up on that,” you admitted.

Thire nodded in understanding but hesitated for a moment before adding, “If you don’t want to stay home however, it might comfort you to know that Fox probably won’t be around the office today. I’m pretty sure he’s running a perimeter sweep in the lower levels with Thorn.”

You mulled over the options. If you stayed at work, you could at least put on a brave face—and knowing Fox wouldn’t be around eased some of the tightness in your chest. On the other hand, if you went home, you’d probably just curl up in bed, cry, and eat something deep-fried and regrettable.

“Okay,” you said, mustering some conviction. “I’ll stay for a bit. Just see how it goes.”

Thire’s face lit up with a smile, and he clapped you on the arm before leading the way out of the supply closet. You stuck close behind him as the door to the office slid open. Your eyes instinctively flicked to the back of the room, where Fox’s desk sat, empty, just as Thire had said. You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

Stone, spinning lazily in his chair, perked up at the sight of you both. “There you are! I thought I was gonna be all on my lonesome today.” He propped his feet up on the console with exaggerated relief.

“If you were, would you actually do any work?” you teased, walking past him and swiping his boots off the console with a quick flick of your hand.

He smirked, completely unashamed. “Probably not.”

Thire rolled his eyes, moving to his station as he muttered, “At least he’s honest.”

You sat down at your usual spot, shifting in your chair, trying to settle into the rhythm of things. But before you could fully drown yourself in work, Stone let out a dramatic groan.

“Kriff’s sake, Thire, did you seriously input the wrong data again ?”

Thire’s head snapped up. “What?”

“This!” Stone gestured aggressively at his screen. “This entire patrol schedule is wrong! The rotations are out of sync. Look, the timestamps are off.”

Thire scoffed, already pulling up his own display. “That’s not possible. I double-checked before submitting it.”

“Yeah? Then explain why we have got troopers patrolling two different levels at the same time when they’re supposed to be covering opposite ends of the facility?” Stone spun his chair toward Thire, arms crossed.

Thire frowned, squinting at his own screen. “That… doesn’t make any sense. I logged everything exactly as it was assigned.”

“Well, someone kriffed it up, and it wasn’t me.”

“It sure as the Maker wasn’t me!” Thire shot back, indignant.

“Oh? So it just magically changed itself, did it?”

“I’m saying maybe you messed with it and didn’t realise—”

“I never mess up reports,” Stone cut in dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like he was some kind of martyr. “Thorn tells me so.”

“That’s the biggest exaggeration I have heard.” Thire deadpanned.

You tried to suppress a laugh as they continued their pointless, but it was no use.

And it was exactly what you needed.

For the first time that day, the weight in your chest lifted. “Okay, okay,” you interrupted, grinning as you shook your head at them both. “Which one of you actually wants to check the system logs instead of arguing like a bunch of shinies?”

Stone and Thire both turned to look at you, then at each other.

“…You do it,” they said at the same time.

You groaned, but there was a small smile on your lips as you pulled up the data. Maybe today wouldn’t be so unbearable after all.

⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

The system was a disaster.

Patrols were scattered haphazardly, leaving critical areas completely unguarded, and nothing seemed to match up with the official assignments. Even Thire who could be forgetful truth be told, was never this careless. He definitely wouldn’t have made an error like this. None of the would have.

You had spent about an hour sorting through the mess, rerouting troopers, and sending Thire and Stone off on a mission to explain the changes to officers stationed across the facility.

The work was frustrating but effective in keeping your mind occupied. It kept your hands busy, your thoughts focused. For a while, you weren’t dwelling on him .

You were in the middle of cross-referencing the schedules when the office door hissed open. You barely registered it, too absorbed in your task until something warm and wet dragged across your cheek.

“ What the—?! ”

Before you could react, a heavy weight crashed into your lap, nearly knocking you out of your chair. A deep, rumbling growl—more like a pleased huff—filled your ears, followed by another enthusiastic swipe of a tongue across your face.

“Grizzer!” you cooed, with a laugh reaching up to give the beast a cuddle. He wriggled happily, tail thumping against the floor as he nuzzled into you.

“You spoil him,” Hound drawled, stepping up beside you with an amused chuckle. He reached down, wrapping a hand around Grizzer’s thick collar and gently pulling him off before the slobber completely drenched your uniform.

You smirked, wiping your cheek with your sleeve. “I am the only one who sneaks him treats.”

Hound rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and now every time we pass the supply closet, he thinks he’s getting a snack.” He gave Grizzer a pat before motioning for him to lie down.

As Hound straightened up, his gaze flickered toward your screen. “Have you noticed something’s been weird with the system?” he asked, arms crossing over his chest. “I noticed that some of the patrol patterns aren’t matching up with assigned sectors, and there are gaps where there shouldn’t be.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “Yeah, we’ve been dealing with that mess all morning.” You tapped at your screen, pulling up a few of the more obvious errors. “Thire swears he submitted everything correctly, and honestly, I believe him. This isn’t just a mistake—it’s like someone has actually tampered with it.”

Hound’s brow furrowed, gaze darkening slightly. “You think it was intentional?”

You hesitated. You hadn’t wanted to go that far, but… “I don’t know. Maybe. It just doesn’t make sense.”

He was quiet for a moment, studying the data. Then, shifting his weight, he cleared his throat.

“So… uh.” His tone changed, noticeably more awkward. “How’s it going with that ‘Whisky’ guy?”

Your heart clenched.

For a split second, you didn’t move, staring blankly at the flickering lights of your console as reality came crashing back down. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your voice even.

“Oh that? Yeah, uh, it’s not going to work out,” you said finally, still avoiding his gaze.

Hound frowned, head tilting slightly. “Why?”

You didn’t want to say. You didn’t want to talk about it so you tried to play it off although there was a bitter truth behind your answer; “He… wasn’t who I thought he was,” you said simply, hoping that would be enough. “I’d rather just leave it at that.”

But Hound’s response wasn’t what you expected. He exhaled through his nose, gaze dropping for just a second—like he was bracing for something. And when he looked back up at you, there was something guilty in his expression.

A terrible, creeping feeling clawed its way into your chest.

Slowly, you turned to face him fully, pulse starting to race. Your mind drifts to him and Fox in the hangar. Angry, intense. When you questioned Hound about it he said it was about a patrol but now you think it’s something else entirely. And then, you remember the rumour about yourself and the Commander and how Hound was the one who first thought it…

Oh no.

Your mouth runs dry. “Hound,” you say, daringly quiet, “do you know something?”

Hound hesitated. Just for a second. But that was enough. The look on his face said everything.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He knew.

Hound had known .

You shot up from your chair so fast it scraped against the floor. Your hands curled into fists at your sides as a choked sound of frustration escaped you, your voice shaking with restrained anger. “You knew?”

Hound held his hands up in defense, already backpedaling. “I—listen—”

“You knew that ‘Whisky’ was Fox, and you didn’t tell me?”

“ I tried! ” he blurted. “I tried pressuring him into telling you the truth, but you know what he’s like—he wouldn’t listen to me!”

Your teeth clenched, fury twisting in your stomach. “So what, you just let me walk into it blind? Let me sit there, talking about him, falling for him while you just—”

“I didn’t want you to hear it from me!” Hound cut in, frustrated. “It wasn’t my place. But, I told him if he didn’t tell you soon that I would tell you.”

You turned away sharply, dragging a hand through your hair as you tried to breathe through the burning heat behind your eyes. Your chest felt tight, your thoughts a cyclone of anger, hurt, and betrayal.

Hound sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I know you’re upset. I get it. I should’ve done something else, but I thought if I pushed him hard enough, he’d tell you.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. Your voice, when you finally spoke, was raw. “I can’t believe you.”

Hound didn’t argue. He didn’t try to make excuses or smooth it over. He just stood there, jaw clenched, shoulders squared like he was standing at attention, ready to take whatever you threw his way.

“So… he did tell you then? In the end?”

You dragged your sleeve across your cheek to swipe away a stray tear, breathing out bitterly. “No. Thire and Pia did. Total accident.”

Hound’s brows shot up. “Thire knows?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. “Not at first. He caught us out together, dropped Fox’s name by mistake, and then Pia put the final nail in the coffin.”

You stared at the console, unable to meet Hound’s eyes. “It all just unraveled from there. A stupid accident.”

Hound’s heavy steps closed the distance as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really thought Fox would step up and tell you.”

You let out a sharp, humourless laugh, your voice tight. “Yeah, well, you’d think the Commander of the Guard would have the guts to say the truth.”

Before the weight of the conversation could sink any deeper, the office door hissed open and in stomped Thire and Stone mid-argument.

You and Hound instantly stepped apart, both snapping back into something resembling professionalism. You smothered your emotions under a mask, hoping neither of them noticed how tense you were. If Thire had clocked anything, he didn’t show it.

Stone sighed dramatically, flopping into a chair like he’d been through battle. “I need a drink. Or a caf. Or five.” You watch in disbelief as he turned his big, pleading eyes toward you like you were his only hope.

You raised an unimpressed brow, arms still crossed tightly over your chest. “Are you seriously giving me that look?”

Stone gave you his most pitiful expression. “I’ve been on my feet for hours.”

Your jaw dropped. “Me ? I’ve just been sat here for hours untangling the entire system while you’ve been off playing hide-and-seek with Thire!” You jabbed a finger toward your cluttered screen. “I saved your shebs.”

Stone clutched his chest like you had wounded him. “ Ouch. ” He turned to Thire as if seeking backup, but Thire just smirked and shook his head.

You pointed to the dusty old caf machine in the corner. “There. It’s unloved, but it still works.”

Stone scrunched his nose like you’d offered him poison. “That machine tastes like regret.”

“Exactly,” you deadpanned. “Go make your own ‘regret’.”

He pouted harder, and you finally sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fine. Fine! I’ll go,” you muttered, grabbing your datapad and standing. “I could use a walk anyway.”

“You’re the best,” Stone grinned.

“Uh-huh,” you replied dryly, heading for the door.

As you stepped out into the hallway, the quiet clatter of the office door sealing behind you, you let yourself breathe for the first time in what felt like hours. The office drama was one thing, but the storm in your chest about Fox and now Hound… that wasn’t going to be so easy to walk off.

Still, the fresh air of the hallway and the promise of a decent cup of caf were better than sitting in that office for another second.

The corridors were quiet as you made your way toward the caf vendor tucked away in one of the facility’s less-trafficked wings. Your boots echoed faintly against the floor, the faint hum of overhead lights your only friend.

As you’re about to turn into a junction, something caught your eye.

A vent, about two meters up the wall, slammed shut.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your breath catching as you whipped your head toward it. The corridor was still, not a sound, but you were sure you saw it move.

Slowly, you stepped a little closer, peering up at it, but nothing stirred. No air, no voices, just the faint rattle of an old air unit kicking in somewhere deeper in the ducts.

You rubbed your eyes, feeling the lingering heaviness from last night. “Great,” you muttered under your breath, “still drunk.”

Shaking your head, you pushed the paranoia down and kept moving. You’d probably just imagined it. Stress, fatigue, and the emotional wreckage were jsut playing tricks on you.

At the caf vendor, your attention went back to your little mission, punching in each order like you were disarming a bomb. One strong and black for Thire, caf with a triple shot and a splash of cream for Stone, plain and standard for Hound, and your usual sweeter blend.

As you made your way back, four very hot cafs carefully balanced on a tray, you passed the same hallway where the vent had - or as you imagined - slammed shut earlier. Instinctively, you slowed down, eyes flickering up to the wall.

The vent sat still. Silent.

You hesitated, listening carefully. Not even the hum of a servomotor. No scurrying sounds. Nothing.

“Just your imagination,” you told yourself, forcing your feet to keep moving.

Still, even as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the chill.

You pushed through the heavy silence of the hallway, cafs balanced carefully as you made your way back toward the office. But as the door hissed open, you froze in the threshold.

Your stomach sank like a anchor.

Fox stood there, voice sharp and echoing off the walls as he barked at Thire and Stone. His helmet tilted toward them, rage practically dripping from him. “I step away for one day, and the whole system goes to hell! How hard is it to follow protocol?”

But the words didn’t fully land in your mind. Your eyes were locked on him, dread curling in your stomach as the room seemed to close in around you. The first time seeing him since everything fell apart, and the sight of him stole the air right from your lungs. And not in a good way.

Thire caught your eye first, his expression crumbling into a look of guilt and apology. Clearly, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Clearly, Thire had been wrong about Fox being absent today.

You barely registered Stone throwing up his hands defensively or Hound standing stiff in the corner.

Fox didn’t notice you at first—until the end of his tirade, when his helmet turned and he spotted you standing there, frozen. He jolted slightly, visor locking on you in stunned silence.

Your heart slammed against your ribs as your hand trembled, the tray rattling slightly. Before you could get a grip, the whole thing slipped sideways. The cups tumbled and hot caf splashing onto one of the consoles and, worse, onto your hand.

A sharp, broken whimper escaped you as the boiling liquid burned your skin.

Hound moved fast, rushing toward you. His voice was somewhere distant, muffled like you were underwater.

But you couldn’t process it.

You were already backing out the door, breath caught in your throat, and then you were gone—running down the hallway.

The nearest refresher was barely around the corner. You stumbled inside and slammed the door behind you, collapsing against the sink. Sobs raked through your chest as you fumbled to get the tap on, hurriedly shoving your hand under the freezing stream of water.

The burn throbbed beneath the chill, but it was nothing compared to the ache inside you.

You stared at your burned hand, your skin already red and irritated under the running water. But then your gaze dropped to your wrist—the bracelet. The one Fox had given you only yesterday, still fastened snugly like a cruel reminder.

Your chest tightened, rage boiling beneath your ribs. Without thinking, you yanked it off and you slammed it to the floor. Frustration choked you as you gasped, tears spilling faster now.

Then it came—the thumping.

Heavy and low at first, but it crept around you, up in the walls above and behind, like something alive was moving in the ducts. The sound made your breath hitch, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Stop it, stop it…” you whispered through gritted teeth, pressing your palms to your temples, convinced you were spiraling. “It’s just in your head. It’s just your head.”

But the thumping kept going, getting louder, vibrating through the durasteel panels. Then—suddenly—it cut out, vanishing like it had never been there at all.

Your blood felt like ice as you stared at the ceiling, waiting for it to return.

A sharp knock at the refresher door broke the silence, making you flinch. The noise from the walls stayed gone, leaving only the sound of your ragged breathing.

You swallowed hard, blinking down at your trembling hands. Your mouth was bone-dry, your mind spinning. It had to be Hound, you had see him coming for you back in the office.

Before you could muster the words to answer, the door hissed open behind you.

“I don’t want to see anyone, Hound,” you mumbled, voice broken.

“How about myself?”

Your eyes snapped up to the mirror above the basin—and there he was. Fox. Standing just inside the door.

Your stomach twisted violently, blood roaring in your ears. “Get out,” your voice was low but shaking.

“We need to talk,” Fox said, calm but firm, stepping further inside.

You spun to face him fully, eyes burning. “Now’s not the best time, so just leave me alone!” Your words echoed in the small room, your breath coming in hard and fast.

Fox didn’t move. Instead, he stepped closer, standing right beside you as though the tension between you didn’t weigh down the air. His gloved hand reached out and quietly adjusted the tap, turning it from cold to lukewarm.

“It’s better this way for burns,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “You should head to the medbay.”

You clenched your jaw, staring daggers into the mirror. “Thanks for the advice,” you snapped, your voice sharper now. “Now go.”

Still, he didn’t budge. His reflection loomed beside yours, visor blank but heavy with everything he wasn’t saying. “I’m not leaving,” he said quietly but with that quiet, stubborn authority you’d heard so many times before—except now, it made your skin crawl.

You step back, just out of arm's reach. “Why? So you can lie to me some more?”

Fox’s shoulders squared as though your words physically hit him. “I never wanted to lie to you,” he replied, voice edged with guilt. “You think this has been easy for me?”

You laughed bitterly. “Oh, poor you.” You shook your head in disbelief. “You had a thousand chances to tell me the truth.”

“I know.” He sighs behind his helmet, “I should have told you sooner.”

“You think? ” you barked. “You let me make a fool of myself. I trusted you! I opened up to you and told you everything about me. I was honest and kind, thinking you were—” you bit down on the lump in your throat, voice trembling, “—thinking you were someone else.”

Fox stood frozen, stunned into silence, mouth parted like he had words to offer but couldn’t find any.

You stared at the sink, focusing on the dripping tap as you tried to even out your breathing. Slowly, you straightened your shoulders, forcing yourself to face him again, eyes burning with determination.

“Take it off.”

His posture stiffened, head snapping up. “What?”

“Your helmet.” You nodded toward it, voice sharp but calm. “Take it off.”

Fox hesitated. You could see it in the slight twitch of his fingers. He wasn’t used to taking orders from anyone who wasn’t a General or the Senate, but the way you were looking at him—hurt, angry, betrayed… it cut through his pride.

He finally moved, his gloved hands lifting the helmet, hands barely steady as he removed it and tucked it under his arm. He didn’t look at you, eyes cast to the floor as if the weight of your pain was too much to face.

And as you stared at him, you realised you didn’t know why you asked. Maybe you were still desperately clinging to the hope that Thire and Pia had somehow been wrong, that this would reveal someone else, someone who just resembled Fox.

But there he was. A face you spent swooning over, eyes you had wiped away tears of laughter with, lips you almost…And now it looked so much heavier, pulled down by guilt.

“You can’t even look at me.”

Fox’s head lifted immediately, eyes meeting yours, his grip tightening on the helmet at his side. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did.” Your voice cracked.

He flinched at that, eyes softening as if he were searching for words. “I know,” he breathed. “I know, I… I don’t know why I let it get this far. I kept telling myself I’d tell you the truth, but I just… got caught up.”

“I told you my own truths,” you said, voice rising. “I trusted you. I let you in. And you decided I didn’t deserve the same.”

“That’s not what I wanted—”

“You didn’t say a lot.” You cut him off sharply. Your throat was tight with tears threatening to fall. “Was it all just some test? To find out how I really felt about you so you had to come up with some stupid, fake alias to what? To fire me? Because if you never liked me all you had to do was just fire me from the get go.”

“I do like you,” he exasperates, “if i didn’t like you I wouldn’t have taken you to that meadow, I wouldn’t have-”

“Lied?”

He stills and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I didn’t want to lie.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “But you did.” you repeat. “Was… was anything you said to me true? About your future, about how you…” your voice faltered, suddenly quieter, “...how you felt about me…”

Your eyes burned as you trailed off, remembering the first night he’d told you that you were beautiful.

But Fox said nothing. Just stared at you with that same, helpless expression.

His silence stretched just a moment too long.

“Just go,” you breathed, voice thick. “Please.”

“No, wait-”

“I’m done talking, Commander.”

He blinks, and takes a small step closer. “Please call me Fox.”

“Why?” You cry, “I wasn’t able to before, what’s changed?”

Stars, he hated seeing you cry in front of him. More to the point that he was the reason for your tears. “Everything… and I don’t want to leave you like this. You’re hurt.”

“It’s just a burn.” You mutter, turning your gaze away.

“I wasn’t referring to that.”

You sigh, angrily wiping away the tears you had let slip. “Sorry for crying.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.” He states.

“You do.” You swiftly retort. “And I’m waiting.”

He shifts in his spot, the brutalness of your words almost scary if not impressive. “I am sorry.”

You scoff. “You're apologising because I asked you to. Not because you wanted to.”

“Wha-?”

“You can leave now.” Your voice was firm, unwavering, even as your fingers trembled slightly against your injured hand. You turned away from him, nursing the burn as though it was the only wound that mattered. “Also, I’m going to put in for a transfer.”

Fox stepped forward again, close enough that his breath stirred against the nape of your neck. “Don’t do that.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, switching off the water. “Do you even realise the position you’ve put me in, Commander?” His title dripped from your tongue like poison as you lifted your gaze to the mirror, meeting his reflection instead of facing him directly. “I can’t even stand to be in the same room as you. I can’t work for you.”

Fox already looked like a man who had been gutted and left to bleed out, but at your words, he flinched, swallowing thickly. “You won’t even know I’m there. I’m too busy dealing with Rik Walder—he’s still loose, and if I hadn’t been so distracted, maybe he never would have—”

Your slow, deliberate turn toward him cut his words dead in his throat.

His mouth snapped shut, the realisation hitting him. Now he had finally said too much rather than too little.

Fox cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably, guilt rolling off of him in waves. “Not that… that was your fault, of course.”

“ Out. ” Your voice was cold, final.

He exhaled, defeated, lifting his helmet and sliding it back into place. You watched as his shame disappeared behind the familiar T-shaped visor, the last traces of vulnerability sealed away. He turned for the door, but something on the floor caught his eye.

Fox bent down, retrieving the small, discarded object, and when he rose, he turned to you once more. “I gave you this.”

You barely spared a glance at the bracelet dangling from his fingers, but the sight of it still sent a sharp pang through your chest. For the briefest moment, guilt gnawed at the edges of your anger. But then you remembered.

Who he said he was.

Who he said he wasn’t.

Your lips pressed into a thin line before you met his gaze through his visor. “I’m sure you’ve given plenty of these to other women you’ve tricked.”

Fox inhaled sharply. He took a step closer, voice low, almost pleading as he said your name. “There was never anyone else.” His fingers curled around the bracelet, gripping it like a lifeline. “It was always you.”

Your breath hitched, throat tightening. But, you shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “Somehow… that doesn’t sound as nice as you think it does.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy, suffocating.

Fox glanced down at the bracelet in his palm, then back at you. When he spoke again, his voice was strained. “Please… keep it.”

You hesitated. Just for a moment. But then, you shook your head. “I can’t.”

His shoulders sagged, the last bit of fight leaving him. He nodded once, accepting the loss. "Get your hand checked, please."

Then without another word, Fox turned and left, his footsteps heavy as the refresher door hissed shut behind him.

The moment he was gone, your breath hitched violently, a choked sob tearing its way free. Your good hand clamped over your mouth, shoulders trembling as tears burned their way down your cheeks.

Meanwhile, Fox strode back toward the office, back straight, shoulders squared, as though he could will himself to be unaffected. The bracelet, now a cruel reminder of everything lost, was silently tucked into one of the pouches on his belt.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, hidden behind the cold, unfeeling mask of his helmet.

"I was still me."

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Liar Liar (Part 9/?)

Part Nine - Boiling Point // >> Part Eight

🫧pairings: Commander Fox X Female!Reader

🫧word count: 5.4k

🫧Chapter Summary: As things start to get creepy at work, you brace yourself for a world of heartache when you finally come face to face with Fox.

🫧Warnings: Angst, angst and angst. Minor burn injury. Lots of crying (mainly myself)

The next morning, nausea settled deep in your stomach, an unpleasant mix of last night’s drinks, too many sweets, and the lingering weight of everything that had happened. You’d left Pia’s pretty late, more than a little tipsy, and now it felt like your body was punishing you for it.

You lay in bed, staring at the chrono on the wall, watching the minutes tick by. You could call in sick. You could just stay here, curl up under the blankets, and ignore the galaxy for a day. But then what? Tomorrow would come, and you’d still have to face this mess.

With a deep breath, you forced yourself up and shuffled into the refresher. The shower was quick, brisk, and did little to clear the fog in your head. Steam clung to the mirror, and when you wiped it away, your own tired reflection stared back at you; eyes still puffy from crying, lips pressed into a tight line.

“You can do this,” you whispered to yourself.

And that’s when you made up your mind to stay in bed.

Well, that’s what you kept saying that you should have done as you walked down the long and seemingly endless hallways of the facility.

You walked with your head down, keeping your pace quick and not stopping to acknowledge anyone. If they were looking at you, you didn’t want to know.

Then, before you even realised, your feet stopped in front of the office door.

Voices carried from inside. You knew them all, of course. But you didn’t move.

What if he was in there?

What if Thire had told people? What if they were all waiting for you, ready to mock your stupidity? The thought alone made your stomach churn harder. You suddenly felt overheated, suffocated by the walls around you.

A deep, rhythmic thumping pounds in your ears. At first you thought it was just your heart, hammering too fast, but then it grew louder. It didn’t match the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat. No, this was something else. It was coming from somewhere around you.

You blinked, a chill creeping down your spine but the noise stopped just as suddenly as it had started.

You find yourself looking up, eyes scanning the ceiling that carried the ventilaition system everywhere. You felt cold, uncomfortable. Like you were being watched. Perhaps it was your paranoia, perhaps it was-

“Hey, you alright?” You nearly jumped out of your skin. Whipping around, you saw Thire standing there, watching you closely.

“Uh—yeah, I was just…” Your voice faltered. The words wouldn’t come. It felt impossible to even look at him.

Thire studied you for a moment before resting a firm hand on your shoulder. “C’mere for a second.”

You didn’t protest, letting him steer you away from the flow of clones and officers passing through the corridor. He led you toward a supply closet, opening the door and motioning for you to step inside before closing it behind him.

For a moment, you both just stood there. The dim lighting made the small space feel even tighter.

Thire pulled off his bucket, tucking it under his arm before meeting your gaze. His brows furrowed slightly. “How are you feeling about… y’know?”

You exhaled sharply, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “Like absolute bantha crap.”

Thire sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I bet. But I promise that I haven’t said a word to anyone.”

You nodded, letting out a slow breath. “Thanks.”

“Didn’t know a damn thing about it either,” he admitted. “None of us did.”

That made you look up. “Really?”

He shook his head. “I swear. If I had any idea what Fox was doing, I would’ve called him out on it. We all would have.” His jaw tightened slightly. “That’s… not how we do things.”

Something in your chest eased, just a little. You wanted to believe him, needed to. Because if the others had known, if they’d just let it happen, that would have made it so much worse.

“I appreciate that,” you say quietly.

Thire nodded again, then frowned slightly. “You don’t have to be here today, you know. If you need time, I can cover for you.”

Your first instinct was to brush it off, to say you were fine. But the truth was, you weren’t. And right now, the thought of sitting at your station, pretending like everything was normal, felt unbearable.

“…I might take you up on that,” you admitted.

Thire nodded in understanding but hesitated for a moment before adding, “If you don’t want to stay home however, it might comfort you to know that Fox probably won’t be around the office today. I’m pretty sure he’s running a perimeter sweep in the lower levels with Thorn.”

You mulled over the options. If you stayed at work, you could at least put on a brave face—and knowing Fox wouldn’t be around eased some of the tightness in your chest. On the other hand, if you went home, you’d probably just curl up in bed, cry, and eat something deep-fried and regrettable.

“Okay,” you said, mustering some conviction. “I’ll stay for a bit. Just see how it goes.”

Thire’s face lit up with a smile, and he clapped you on the arm before leading the way out of the supply closet. You stuck close behind him as the door to the office slid open. Your eyes instinctively flicked to the back of the room, where Fox’s desk sat, empty, just as Thire had said. You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

Stone, spinning lazily in his chair, perked up at the sight of you both. “There you are! I thought I was gonna be all on my lonesome today.” He propped his feet up on the console with exaggerated relief.

“If you were, would you actually do any work?” you teased, walking past him and swiping his boots off the console with a quick flick of your hand.

He smirked, completely unashamed. “Probably not.”

Thire rolled his eyes, moving to his station as he muttered, “At least he’s honest.”

You sat down at your usual spot, shifting in your chair, trying to settle into the rhythm of things. But before you could fully drown yourself in work, Stone let out a dramatic groan.

“Kriff’s sake, Thire, did you seriously input the wrong data again ?”

Thire’s head snapped up. “What?”

“This!” Stone gestured aggressively at his screen. “This entire patrol schedule is wrong! The rotations are out of sync. Look, the timestamps are off.”

Thire scoffed, already pulling up his own display. “That’s not possible. I double-checked before submitting it.”

“Yeah? Then explain why we have got troopers patrolling two different levels at the same time when they’re supposed to be covering opposite ends of the facility?” Stone spun his chair toward Thire, arms crossed.

Thire frowned, squinting at his own screen. “That… doesn’t make any sense. I logged everything exactly as it was assigned.”

“Well, someone kriffed it up, and it wasn’t me.”

“It sure as the Maker wasn’t me!” Thire shot back, indignant.

“Oh? So it just magically changed itself, did it?”

“I’m saying maybe you messed with it and didn’t realise—”

“I never mess up reports,” Stone cut in dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like he was some kind of martyr. “Thorn tells me so.”

“That’s the biggest exaggeration I have heard.” Thire deadpanned.

You tried to suppress a laugh as they continued their pointless, but it was no use.

And it was exactly what you needed.

For the first time that day, the weight in your chest lifted. “Okay, okay,” you interrupted, grinning as you shook your head at them both. “Which one of you actually wants to check the system logs instead of arguing like a bunch of shinies?”

Stone and Thire both turned to look at you, then at each other.

“…You do it,” they said at the same time.

You groaned, but there was a small smile on your lips as you pulled up the data. Maybe today wouldn’t be so unbearable after all.

⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

The system was a disaster.

Patrols were scattered haphazardly, leaving critical areas completely unguarded, and nothing seemed to match up with the official assignments. Even Thire who could be forgetful truth be told, was never this careless. He definitely wouldn’t have made an error like this. None of the would have.

You had spent about an hour sorting through the mess, rerouting troopers, and sending Thire and Stone off on a mission to explain the changes to officers stationed across the facility.

The work was frustrating but effective in keeping your mind occupied. It kept your hands busy, your thoughts focused. For a while, you weren’t dwelling on him .

You were in the middle of cross-referencing the schedules when the office door hissed open. You barely registered it, too absorbed in your task until something warm and wet dragged across your cheek.

“ What the—?! ”

Before you could react, a heavy weight crashed into your lap, nearly knocking you out of your chair. A deep, rumbling growl—more like a pleased huff—filled your ears, followed by another enthusiastic swipe of a tongue across your face.

“Grizzer!” you cooed, with a laugh reaching up to give the beast a cuddle. He wriggled happily, tail thumping against the floor as he nuzzled into you.

“You spoil him,” Hound drawled, stepping up beside you with an amused chuckle. He reached down, wrapping a hand around Grizzer’s thick collar and gently pulling him off before the slobber completely drenched your uniform.

You smirked, wiping your cheek with your sleeve. “I amthe only one who sneaks him treats.”

Hound rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and now every time we pass the supply closet, he thinks he’s getting a snack.” He gave Grizzer a pat before motioning for him to lie down.

As Hound straightened up, his gaze flickered toward your screen. “Have you noticed something’s been weird with the system?” he asked, arms crossing over his chest. “I noticed that some of the patrol patterns aren’t matching up with assigned sectors, and there are gaps where there shouldn’t be.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “Yeah, we’ve been dealing with that mess all morning.” You tapped at your screen, pulling up a few of the more obvious errors. “Thire swears he submitted everything correctly, and honestly, I believe him. This isn’t just a mistake—it’s like someone has actually tampered with it.”

Hound’s brow furrowed, gaze darkening slightly. “You think it was intentional?”

You hesitated. You hadn’t wanted to go that far, but… “I don’t know. Maybe. It just doesn’t make sense.”

He was quiet for a moment, studying the data. Then, shifting his weight, he cleared his throat.

“So… uh.” His tone changed, noticeably more awkward. “How’s it going with that ‘Whisky’ guy?”

Your heart clenched.

For a split second, you didn’t move, staring blankly at the flickering lights of your console as reality came crashing back down. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your voice even.

“Oh that? Yeah, uh, it’s not going to work out,” you said finally, still avoiding his gaze.

Hound frowned, head tilting slightly. “Why?”

You didn’t want to say. You didn’t want to talk about it so you tried to play it off although there was a bitter truth behind your answer; “He… wasn’t who I thought he was,” you said simply, hoping that would be enough. “I’d rather just leave it at that.”

But Hound’s response wasn’t what you expected. He exhaled through his nose, gaze dropping for just a second—like he was bracing for something. And when he looked back up at you, there was something guilty in his expression.

A terrible, creeping feeling clawed its way into your chest.

Slowly, you turned to face him fully, pulse starting to race. Your mind drifts to him and Fox in the hangar. Angry, intense. When you questioned Hound about it he said it was about a patrol but now you think it’s something else entirely. And then, you remember the rumour about yourself and the Commander and how Hound was the one who first thought it…

Oh no.

Your mouth runs dry. “Hound,” you say, daringly quiet, “do you know something?”

Hound hesitated. Just for a second. But that was enough. The look on his face said everything.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He knew.

Hound had known .

You shot up from your chair so fast it scraped against the floor. Your hands curled into fists at your sides as a choked sound of frustration escaped you, your voice shaking with restrained anger. “You knew?”

Hound held his hands up in defense, already backpedaling. “I—listen—”

“You knew that ‘Whisky’ was Fox, and you didn’t tell me?”

“ I tried! ” he blurted. “I tried pressuring him into telling you the truth, but you know what he’s like—he wouldn’t listen to me!”

Your teeth clenched, fury twisting in your stomach. “So what, you just let me walk into it blind? Let me sit there, talking about him, falling for him while you just—”

“I didn’t want you to hear it from me!” Hound cut in, frustrated. “It wasn’t my place. But, I told him if he didn’t tell you soon that I would tell you.”

You turned away sharply, dragging a hand through your hair as you tried to breathe through the burning heat behind your eyes. Your chest felt tight, your thoughts a cyclone of anger, hurt, and betrayal.

Hound sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I know you’re upset. I get it. I should’ve done something else, but I thought if I pushed him hard enough, he’d tell you.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. Your voice, when you finally spoke, was raw. “I can’t believe you.”

Hound didn’t argue. He didn’t try to make excuses or smooth it over. He just stood there, jaw clenched, shoulders squared like he was standing at attention, ready to take whatever you threw his way.

“So… he did tell you then? In the end?”

You dragged your sleeve across your cheek to swipe away a stray tear, breathing out bitterly. “No. Thire and Pia did. Total accident.”

Hound’s brows shot up. “Thire knows?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. “Not at first. He caught us out together, dropped Fox’s name by mistake, and then Pia put the final nail in the coffin.”

You stared at the console, unable to meet Hound’s eyes. “It all just unraveled from there. A stupid accident.”

Hound’s heavy steps closed the distance as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really thought Fox would step up and tell you.”

You let out a sharp, humourless laugh, your voice tight. “Yeah, well, you’d think the Commander of the Guard would have the guts to say the truth.”

Before the weight of the conversation could sink any deeper, the office door hissed open and in stomped Thire and Stone mid-argument.

You and Hound instantly stepped apart, both snapping back into something resembling professionalism. You smothered your emotions under a mask, hoping neither of them noticed how tense you were. If Thire had clocked anything, he didn’t show it.

Stone sighed dramatically, flopping into a chair like he’d been through battle. “I need a drink. Or a caf. Or five.” You watch in disbelief as he turned his big, pleading eyes toward you like you were his only hope.

You raised an unimpressed brow, arms still crossed tightly over your chest. “Are you seriously giving me that look?”

Stone gave you his most pitiful expression. “I’ve been on my feet for hours.”

Your jaw dropped. “Me ? I’ve just been sat here for hoursuntangling the entire system while you’ve been off playing hide-and-seek with Thire!” You jabbed a finger toward your cluttered screen. “I saved your shebs.”

Stone clutched his chest like you had wounded him. “Ouch. ” He turned to Thire as if seeking backup, but Thire just smirked and shook his head.

You pointed to the dusty old caf machine in the corner. “There. It’s unloved, but it still works.”

Stone scrunched his nose like you’d offered him poison. “That machine tastes like regret.”

“Exactly,” you deadpanned. “Go make your own ‘regret’.”

He pouted harder, and you finally sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fine. Fine! I’ll go,” you muttered, grabbing your datapad and standing. “I could use a walk anyway.”

“You’re the best,” Stone grinned.

“Uh-huh,” you replied dryly, heading for the door.

As you stepped out into the hallway, the quiet clatter of the office door sealing behind you, you let yourself breathe for the first time in what felt like hours. The office drama was one thing, but the storm in your chest about Fox and now Hound… that wasn’t going to be so easy to walk off.

Still, the fresh air of the hallway and the promise of a decent cup of caf were better than sitting in that office for another second.

The corridors were quiet as you made your way toward the caf vendor tucked away in one of the facility’s less-trafficked wings. Your boots echoed faintly against the floor, the faint hum of overhead lights your only friend.

As you’re about to turn into a junction, something caught your eye.

A vent, about two meters up the wall, slammed shut.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your breath catching as you whipped your head toward it. The corridor was still, not a sound, but you were sure you saw it move.

Slowly, you stepped a little closer, peering up at it, but nothing stirred. No air, no voices, just the faint rattle of an old air unit kicking in somewhere deeper in the ducts.

You rubbed your eyes, feeling the lingering heaviness from last night. “Great,” you muttered under your breath, “still drunk.”

Shaking your head, you pushed the paranoia down and kept moving. You’d probably just imagined it. Stress, fatigue, and the emotional wreckage were jsut playing tricks on you.

At the caf vendor, your attention went back to your little mission, punching in each order like you were disarming a bomb. One strong and black for Thire, caf with a triple shot and a splash of cream for Stone, plain and standard for Hound, and your usual sweeter blend.

As you made your way back, four very hot cafs carefully balanced on a tray, you passed the same hallway where the vent had - or as you imagined - slammed shut earlier. Instinctively, you slowed down, eyes flickering up to the wall.

The vent sat still. Silent.

You hesitated, listening carefully. Not even the hum of a servomotor. No scurrying sounds. Nothing.

“Just your imagination,” you told yourself, forcing your feet to keep moving.

Still, even as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the chill.

You pushed through the heavy silence of the hallway, cafs balanced carefully as you made your way back toward the office. But as the door hissed open, you froze in the threshold.

Your stomach sank like a anchor.

Fox stood there, voice sharp and echoing off the walls as he barked at Thire and Stone. His helmet tilted toward them, rage practically dripping from him. “I step away for one day, and the whole system goes to hell! How hard is it to follow protocol?”

But the words didn’t fully land in your mind. Your eyes were locked on him, dread curling in your stomach as the room seemed to close in around you. The first time seeing him since everything fell apart, and the sight of him stole the air right from your lungs. And not in a good way.

Thire caught your eye first, his expression crumbling into a look of guilt and apology. Clearly, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Clearly, Thire had been wrong about Fox being absent today.

You barely registered Stone throwing up his hands defensively or Hound standing stiff in the corner.

Fox didn’t notice you at first—until the end of his tirade, when his helmet turned and he spotted you standing there, frozen. He jolted slightly, visor locking on you in stunned silence.

Your heart slammed against your ribs as your hand trembled, the tray rattling slightly. Before you could get a grip, the whole thing slipped sideways. The cups tumbled and hot caf splashing onto one of the consoles and, worse, onto your hand.

A sharp, broken whimper escaped you as the boiling liquid burned your skin.

Hound moved fast, rushing toward you. His voice was somewhere distant, muffled like you were underwater.

But you couldn’t process it.

You were already backing out the door, breath caught in your throat, and then you were gone—running down the hallway.

The nearest refresher was barely around the corner. You stumbled inside and slammed the door behind you, collapsing against the sink. Sobs raked through your chest as you fumbled to get the tap on, hurriedly shoving your hand under the freezing stream of water.

The burn throbbed beneath the chill, but it was nothing compared to the ache inside you.

You stared at your burned hand, your skin already red and irritated under the running water. But then your gaze dropped to your wrist—the bracelet. The one Fox had given you only yesterday, still fastened snugly like a cruel reminder.

Your chest tightened, rage boiling beneath your ribs. Without thinking, you yanked it off and you slammed it to the floor. Frustration choked you as you gasped, tears spilling faster now.

Then it came—the thumping.

Heavy and low at first, but it crept around you, up in the walls above and behind, like something alive was moving in the ducts. The sound made your breath hitch, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Stop it, stop it…” you whispered through gritted teeth, pressing your palms to your temples, convinced you were spiraling. “It’s just in your head. It’s just your head.”

But the thumping kept going, getting louder, vibrating through the durasteel panels. Then—suddenly—it cut out, vanishing like it had never been there at all.

Your blood felt like ice as you stared at the ceiling, waiting for it to return.

A sharp knock at the refresher door broke the silence, making you flinch. The noise from the walls stayed gone, leaving only the sound of your ragged breathing.

You swallowed hard, blinking down at your trembling hands. Your mouth was bone-dry, your mind spinning. It had to be Hound, you had see him coming for you back in the office.

Before you could muster the words to answer, the door hissed open behind you.

“I don’t want to see anyone, Hound,” you mumbled, voice broken.

“How about myself?”

Your eyes snapped up to the mirror above the basin—and there he was. Fox. Standing just inside the door.

Your stomach twisted violently, blood roaring in your ears. “Get out,” your voice was low but shaking.

“We need to talk,” Fox said, calm but firm, stepping further inside.

You spun to face him fully, eyes burning. “Now’s not the best time, so just leave me alone!” Your words echoed in the small room, your breath coming in hard and fast.

Fox didn’t move. Instead, he stepped closer, standing right beside you as though the tension between you didn’t weigh down the air. His gloved hand reached out and quietly adjusted the tap, turning it from cold to lukewarm.

“It’s better this way for burns,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “You should head to the medbay.”

You clenched your jaw, staring daggers into the mirror. “Thanks for the advice,” you snapped, your voice sharper now. “Now go.”

Still, he didn’t budge. His reflection loomed beside yours, visor blank but heavy with everything he wasn’t saying. “I’m not leaving,” he said quietly but with that quiet, stubborn authority you’d heard so many times before—except now, it made your skin crawl.

You step back, just out of arm's reach. “Why? So you can lie to me some more?”

Fox’s shoulders squared as though your words physically hit him. “I never wanted to lie to you,” he replied, voice edged with guilt. “You think this has been easy for me?”

You laughed bitterly. “Oh, poor you.” You shook your head in disbelief. “You had a thousand chances to tell me the truth.”

“I know.” He sighs behind his helmet, “I should have told you sooner.”

“You think? ” you barked. “You let me make a fool of myself. I trusted you! I opened up to you and told you everything about me. I was honest and kind, thinking you were—” you bit down on the lump in your throat, voice trembling, “—thinking you were someone else.”

Fox stood frozen, stunned into silence, mouth parted like he had words to offer but couldn’t find any.

You stared at the sink, focusing on the dripping tap as you tried to even out your breathing. Slowly, you straightened your shoulders, forcing yourself to face him again, eyes burning with determination.

“Take it off.”

His posture stiffened, head snapping up. “What?”

“Your helmet.” You nodded toward it, voice sharp but calm. “Take it off.”

Fox hesitated. You could see it in the slight twitch of his fingers. He wasn’t used to taking orders from anyone who wasn’t a General or the Senate, but the way you were looking at him—hurt, angry, betrayed… it cut through his pride.

He finally moved, his gloved hands lifting the helmet, hands barely steady as he removed it and tucked it under his arm. He didn’t look at you, eyes cast to the floor as if the weight of your pain was too much to face.

And as you stared at him, you realised you didn’t know why you asked. Maybe you were still desperately clinging to the hope that Thire and Pia had somehow been wrong, that this would reveal someone else, someone who just resembled Fox.

But there he was. A face you spent swooning over, eyes you had wiped away tears of laughter with, lips you almost…And now it looked so much heavier, pulled down by guilt.

“You can’t even look at me.”

Fox’s head lifted immediately, eyes meeting yours, his grip tightening on the helmet at his side. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did.” Your voice cracked.

He flinched at that, eyes softening as if he were searching for words. “I know,” he breathed. “I know, I… I don’t know why I let it get this far. I kept telling myself I’d tell you the truth, but I just… got caught up.”

“I told you my own truths,” you said, voice rising. “I trusted you. I let you in. And you decided I didn’t deserve the same.”

“That’s not what I wanted—”

“You didn’t say a lot.” You cut him off sharply. Your throat was tight with tears threatening to fall. “Was it all just some test? To find out how I really felt about you so you had to come up with some stupid, fake alias to what? To fire me? Because if you never liked me all you had to do was just fire me from the get go.”

“I do like you,” he exasperates, “if i didn’t like you I wouldn’t have taken you to that meadow, I wouldn’t have-”

“Lied?”

He stills and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I didn’t want to lie.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “But you did.” you repeat. “Was… was anything you said to me true? About your future, about how you…” your voice faltered, suddenly quieter, “...how you felt about me…”

Your eyes burned as you trailed off, remembering the first night he’d told you that you were beautiful.

But Fox said nothing. Just stared at you with that same, helpless expression.

His silence stretched just a moment too long.

“Just go,” you breathed, voice thick. “Please.”

“No, wait-”

“I’m done talking, Commander.”

He blinks, and takes a small step closer. “Please call me Fox.”

“Why?” You cry, “I wasn’t able to before, what’s changed?”

Stars, he hated seeing you cry in front of him. More to the point that he was the reason for your tears. “Everything… and I don’t want to leave you like this. You’re hurt.”

“It’s just a burn.” You mutter, turning your gaze away.

“I wasn’t referring to that.”

You sigh, angrily wiping away the tears you had let slip. “Sorry for crying.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.” He states.

“You do.” You swiftly retort. “And I’m waiting.”

He shifts in his spot, the brutalness of your words almost scary if not impressive. “I am sorry.”

You scoff. “You're apologising because I asked you to. Not because you wanted to.”

“Wha-?”

“You can leave now.” Your voice was firm, unwavering, even as your fingers trembled slightly against your injured hand. You turned away from him, nursing the burn as though it was the only wound that mattered. “Also, I’m going to put in for a transfer.”

Fox stepped forward again, close enough that his breath stirred against the nape of your neck. “Don’t do that.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, switching off the water. “Do you even realise the position you’ve put me in, Commander?” His title dripped from your tongue like poison as you lifted your gaze to the mirror, meeting his reflection instead of facing him directly. “I can’t even stand to be in the same room as you. I can’t work for you.”

Fox already looked like a man who had been gutted and left to bleed out, but at your words, he flinched, swallowing thickly. “You won’t even know I’m there. I’m too busy dealing with Rik Walder—he’s still loose, and if I hadn’t been so distracted, maybe he never would have—”

Your slow, deliberate turn toward him cut his words dead in his throat.

His mouth snapped shut, the realisation hitting him. Now he had finally said too much rather than too little.

Fox cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably, guilt rolling off of him in waves. “Not that… that was your fault, of course.”

“Out. ” Your voice was cold, final.

He exhaled, defeated, lifting his helmet and sliding it back into place. You watched as his shame disappeared behind the familiar T-shaped visor, the last traces of vulnerability sealed away. He turned for the door, but something on the floor caught his eye.

Fox bent down, retrieving the small, discarded object, and when he rose, he turned to you once more. “I gave you this.”

You barely spared a glance at the bracelet dangling from his fingers, but the sight of it still sent a sharp pang through your chest. For the briefest moment, guilt gnawed at the edges of your anger. But then you remembered.

Who he said he was.

Who he said he wasn’t.

Your lips pressed into a thin line before you met his gaze through his visor. “I’m sure you’ve given plenty of these to other women you’ve tricked.”

Fox inhaled sharply. He took a step closer, voice low, almost pleading as he said your name. “There was never anyone else.” His fingers curled around the bracelet, gripping it like a lifeline. “It was always you.”

Your breath hitched, throat tightening. But, you shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “Somehow… that doesn’t sound as nice as you think it does.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy, suffocating.

Fox glanced down at the bracelet in his palm, then back at you. When he spoke again, his voice was strained. “Please… keep it.”

You hesitated. Just for a moment. But then, you shook your head. “I can’t.”

His shoulders sagged, the last bit of fight leaving him. He nodded once, accepting the loss. "Get your hand checked, please."

Then without another word, Fox turned and left, his footsteps heavy as the refresher door hissed shut behind him.

The moment he was gone, your breath hitched violently, a choked sob tearing its way free. Your good hand clamped over your mouth, shoulders trembling as tears burned their way down your cheeks.

Meanwhile, Fox strode back toward the office, back straight, shoulders squared, as though he could will himself to be unaffected. The bracelet, now a cruel reminder of everything lost, was silently tucked into one of the pouches on his belt.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, hidden behind the cold, unfeeling mask of his helmet.

"I was still me."

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[erellenora]

ANDOR SEASON 2 'A SPECIAL LOOK' VIA DISNEY+

[erellenora]

Wow, Star Wars actually went there….. I was NOT expecting that AT ALL. If you know, you know.

[erellenora]

Liar Liar (Part 8/?)

Part 8 - Aftermath // <<< Part 7

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female Reader

🫧 word count: 2k

🫧 Chapter Summary: Devastated, you seek comfort in your best friend as you try to make sense of everything from tonight.

🫧 Warnings: angst, lots of crying, comfort, explicit language, embarrassed and emotional reader.

The walk to Pia’s apartment was nothing short of humiliating.

Tears stained your cheeks, mascara smudged beneath your puffy eyes. The heels you had worn with such eagerness were now your sworn enemies, their straps digging into your blistered feet until you finally snapped. With a strangled noise of frustration, you yanked them off and hurled them into the nearest alley, not caring who saw.

“Oh, just fuck off!” 

A few passing strangers turned to stare, some amused, some concerned, others just pitying. You didn’t care.

Barefoot and emotionally wrecked, you made your way toward Pia’s apartment in the lower sector, each step a mix of aching feet and the weight of betrayal pressing down on your chest. The only silver lining was that Pia didn’t live far—though you were sure walking barefoot through Coruscant’s streets had already knocked a few years off your lifespan.

When you finally reached her door, you fumbled with the keyfob, your hands shaking as you swiped it against the panel. The lock clicked open, and relief flooded you as you stumbled inside.

The moment you crossed the threshold, your body gave out. You didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Instead, you collapsed onto Pia’s curved sofa, faceplanting into the dark navy cushions with a long, muffled groan of despair.

For a while, you just lay there, motionless. If someone were to walk in now they would think you were dead. Considering a part inside you died it wouldn't be so far from reality.

The fabric beneath you soaked up the remnants of your ruined makeup and tears, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Why me?” you croaked into the cushion, your voice muffled and pitiful.

What were the chances? How did this even happen? The man you had been falling for— Whisky —wasn’t real. He was Fox, your boss. Considerably the more prominent Commanders in the squad.  The same man who had been nothing but cold and unapproachable toward you at work, the same man who barely gave you the time of day. 

Ugh, it was like something out of a karking holofanfic you used to read. But now it’s your reality.

Eventually, you rolled onto your side, wiping at your blotchy face before grimacing at the black smudges you left on Pia’s cushion. You quickly flipped it over, pretending you hadn’t just defiled her furniture with the evidence of your emotional breakdown.

Sitting up, you exhaled shakily, hands running over your face as you tried to make sense of it all.

You hated yourself for not realising it sooner.

Fox had always been so different with you—so distant —yet Whisky had been warm, charming, even funny in his own way. But the signs were there. No one else knew this so-called ‘Whisky.’ You had never even questioned it, never pressed for more details, never even thought to ask what Fox looked like beneath his helmet to realize it had been him all along.

A bitter laugh slipped from your lips. Not amused. Not ironic. Just… hollow.

Somewhere out there, Fox was probably scrambling for an excuse. You wondered if he had even tried to defend himself to Pia—or if he had just stood there like a coward, letting her chew him out.

The thought made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

And Thire.

Your breath hitched as the realisation hit you again that Thire had been there. You hadn’t stuck around long enough to see his reaction, but the possibility that he andother troopers knew about this, that they had been possibly in on it, makes your skin crawl.

You cast a glance at the chrono on the wall. You hadn’t noticed how much time had passed since everything had fallen apart. The night cycle had already settled in. Shivering, you wrapped your arms around yourself, looking down at the dress you had once been so excited to wear.

“Typical,” you muttered.

You needed to change. You needed out of this dress. This damn colour.

Without hesitation, you raided Pia’s closet (you knew she wouldn’t mind), grabbing the first oversized sweater you could find. It was bright orange and garish but you couldn’t cope to see anything Red. You matched it with some a pair of comfy lounge pants after peeling your dress off. You folded it neatly though a part of you wanted to burn it along with the memory of this entire night. 

But it was expensive so maybe another time. 

Settling back onto the couch, you switched on the holoscreen, mindlessly scrolling through options before picking something random. The movie played, colours flickering across the walls, but you barely registered what was happening. Your mind was of course elsewhere, circling the same thoughts, the same questions.

Was Fox looking for you right now? Had Pia ripped him apart? Did he even feel bad about what he had done?

The faint beeping of the apartment door jolted you from your thoughts.

You straightened, quickly pausing the movie as the door hissed open.

Pia stepped inside, her movements sharp, her expression thunderous. If you had been a mess of emotions earlier, she was barely containing the steam blowing out her ears.

You swallowed, watching as she stormed toward the kitchen, already grabbing two cups and fixing a drink. Hopefully something strong.

You hesitated before finding your voice. “What did he say?”

Noticinghow her shoulders tensed from behind, you almost shudder as you see her small hesitation. But then she turned to you, jaw tight, eyes filled with unfiltered anger. “He didn’t say a single thing.”

Your stomach dropped. “W-what?”

She scoffed, setting down your drink with a sharp clink . “Yeah. I let him have it, and the bastard just stood there like a statue.” She took a long sip of her own drink before shaking her head in disbelief. “Didn’t even try to explain himself.”

Your grip tightened around the cup once you picked it up, anger bubbling up beneath the hurt. “Not even an apology?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Just looked guilty as sin that he got caught.”

At least he had some sense of shame other than being a deceitful little-

“Thire had no clue either.” Pia leaned plopped down on the couch beside you, eyeing you carefully.

That made you sit up straighter. “He didn’t?”

“No.” Pia exhaled, rubbing a hand over her face. “He was just as dumbfounded as I was. Told me to ‘calm down,’ so I told him where to stick it too.”

Despite everything, a short laugh escaped you at the mental image. “And did he promise to… you know… not say anything.”

She nodded. “Yeah. He promised.”

That was something , at least. No one else at work knew. That you were aware of, anyway.

A heavy silence settled between you. Pia quietly turned the movie back on, giving you time to collect yourself. The soft glow of the holoscreen resumes its flickers against the walls but neither of you really paid attention to it. You just sat there, processing, breathing, letting the worst of the emotions settle. 

When the credits rolled, you finally spoke again. “Pia?”

She turned her head toward you.

“Does Fox… go to 79’s often?”

She was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Not as much as the other boys.”

Your throat tightened as you swallowed back the lump forming, eyes starting that familiar sting “And did he…?”

Pia didn’t need you to finish. She knew exactly what you were asking even if you would not, could not, directly say it. She heard the pain in your voice, the embarrassment in plain sight in a gaze you could not share.

“No, love,” she said softly. “He was always reserved. Didn’t speak to anyone else.”

You exhaled, a strange mix of emotions flooding you. Relief. Confusion. Hurt. Supposedly, it’s always nice to hear that the guy who completely screwed with your emotions wasn’t a total gashead.

“This is so stupid,” you muttered as you slink further back into the couch, playing with the cuffs of this awful sweater.

“He’s so stupid,” Pia corrected with an eye roll. She scooted closer, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “He let a good girl go.”

You smiled, but it was weak. “I can’t believe I was falling for a lie .” Your voice wavered, “Like, was he ever going to tell me?”

Pia sighed and shrugs “I don’t know. But isn’t it better that you found out now rather than later?”

It was now your turn to shrug. “I wish he’d just told me from the get-go. Saved me the humiliation.” You sniffle, nose and eyes still a little bunged up with emotions.

“True, true.” Pia hummed in agreement. She then ponders for a moment before saying, “I take it his persona of ‘Whisky’ was different to how he is really.” 

“Super different.” You exasperate. “When I first spoke to him at 79’s he was mysterious and a bit quiet which is kinda like Fox I guess but the more I got to know him, the messages, the meadow he took me too… It was like a different person.” 

Pia nods in understanding. “But it wasn’t.” 

“Sadly not.”

You stared down at the sweater you were fidgeting with, voice barely above a whisper. “The worst part is… I trusted him. I told him everything about me. And he told me nothing .”

Pia pulled you into a hug just as the next sob strikes you in the heart. 

“And I really liked him.”

   It took a while for you to calm down again after that. Every time you thought you were finally done crying, another wave would creep up on you, spilling over in fresh tears. Pia being Pia, did everything she could to help.

She played with your hair, gently combing her fingers through the strands in a way that was oddly soothing. She grabbed you snacks, refilled your drink without you even asking, and—perhaps her best idea yet—put on a compilation of clankers getting destroyed in the most ridiculous ways.

A battle droid getting thrown around by a Wookiee. Another one getting its head stuck in a ship door before being dragged off into hyperspace. One standing idly as an AT-TE foot came crashing down on it with a squeaky, pathetic "Uh-oh."

Eventually, it worked. The tension in your chest eased, and the last of your tears dried on your cheeks. The exhaustion settled in, pulling at your limbs, making your eyelids heavy.

By the time you were halfway through the two-hour compilation, you turned to Pia, only just now registering the lovely dress she was wearing.

“Wait…” You sat up slightly, frowning. “Weren’t you supposed to be on a date tonight?”

Pia blinked, then looked down at herself, as if only now remembering her outfit. A grin tugged at her lips before she glanced back at you. “Yeah, but I had more important matters to attend to.” She reached over and patted your head playfully.

You squirmed, laughing as you swatted her hand away. “You sap.”

But then another realisation hit. Your brows shot up as your tired brain finally connected the dots. “Wait—what the stars? Was your date with Thire?!”

Pia had the audacity to cackle at your wide-eyed expression, nodding as she popped another sweet into her mouth.

Your jaw dropped. “ Pia! ”

“What?” she said through a smirk.

“What are you doing here with me then?”

She shrugged, leaning back against the couch as she grabbed another handful of sweets. “He was late anyway.”

You gaped at her, gobsmacked. Grabbing a piece from your own bowl, you tossed it at her. “ I thought you didn’t like him! ”

“ Never said that,” Pia mused, expertly catching the sweet you threw at her and popping it into her mouth. “I just don’t like him dancing on tables and making me fill out accident forms.”

You snorted. “Did he do it again?”

“Oh, yeah.” Pia grinned at the memory. “He was wasted .But… he was being cute. Asked me on a date. I said yes. And now here I am with you.”

You frowned, your guilt creeping in again. “Kriff, Pia, I’m sorry you missed your date because of me.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s alright.” She glanced at you, her expression softening. “And like I said, I had more pressing matters.”

Your heart swelled a little at that.

Pia had always been a good friend. But tonight? Tonight, she was the best friend.

“Wait, is that my sweater?”

“Well it’s definitely not mine. It’s ugly.”

“Hm. Suits you then.”

🫧 Next part coming soon

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[erellenora]

Liar Liar (Part 7/?)

Part 7 - The Truth // <<< Part Six

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female!Reader

🫧 word count: 4.5k

🫧Chapter Summary: With questions and gossip spiralling out of control, Fox takes action and takes you on a date to break the news. However, it doesn't go exactly to plan.

🫧Chapter Warnings: safe for work, flirty texts, flirting, reader wearing a red dress, heavy angst, crying, heartbreak, trust issues, comfort, accidental confessions.

 

    "Hound, can I have a word?" It was the next day, and during your lunch break, you spotted Hound lingering by the counter, balancing a tray of food while waiting for the next available seat. The moment you saw him, the urge to speak to him flared up, overriding your initial plan to just grab something to eat and return to your desk.

Excusing yourself, you wove through the crowd of officers and troopers, brushing past shoulders until you reached him just before he could sit down.

The Sergeant blinked in surprise at your sudden appearance—though even more at the clear irritation in your tone. That alone was enough to catch his attention. You weren’t usually one to sound so bothered.

Adjusting his grip on his tray, he arched a brow. “Everything alright?”

You ignored the question and tilted your head, gesturing for him to follow. Hound hesitated briefly but ultimately sighed and followed you out of earshot of the bustling mess hall.

Once you were in a quiet enough spot, you turned to face him, arms crossed. “Want to tell me why Thire and Stone think me and Commander Fox are a ‘thing’?”

His mouth opened, then promptly closed. He awkwardly glanced to the side, shifting on his feet like a guilty cadet caught sneaking extra rations. “Yeah… about that… that’s, uh, my error.”

“Yeah, it is, ” you echoed sharply. “Why would you say something like that? What even made you think that in the first place?”

He let out an uncomfortable chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was just an observation.”

“An observation ?” You huffed, throwing your hands in the air. “Hound, me and Fox barely speak. ”

“I know, I know,” he said quickly, shifting his tray from one hand to the other, “I just… I don’t know, I thought I noticed something.”

You gave him a flat stare. “Like what?”

He hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. “Like the way he looks at you.”

Your brows shot up. “The way he looks at me?”

“Forget I said anything,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.”

You sighed, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Well, does Fox know about this ridiculous gossip?”

Hound frowned. “Of course not.”

“Good. And I don’t want him to know.”

The last thing you needed was for Commander Fox to hear about this. The man already carried the weight of Coruscant’s security on his shoulders—he did not need to be burdened with some absurd rumor about the two of you.

But then, a thought struck you.

You lowered your hand, eyes narrowing slightly as a memory resurfaced—Fox and Hound, standing in the hangar yesterday. It had looked… tense. Almost heated.

Frowning, you tilted your head. “That reminds me, what was that about yesterday?”

Hound stiffened, lips pressing into a firm line. “What was what about?”

“The conversation you had with Fox in the hangar.” You studied him carefully. “Looked serious. ”

There was conflict in his gaze. Hesitation. But after a moment, he sighed and shook his head. “Nothing worth worrying about. A patrol went wrong. That’s all.”

You watched him closely, trying to gauge whether or not that was the whole truth.

But eventually, you nodded. “Alright,” you said, relieved that at least it wasn’t about you.

Hound exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Sorry about the gossip. I really didn’t mean for it to spread.”

You rolled your eyes, but the irritation had mostly faded. “Just… maybe keep your ‘ observations’ to yourself next time.” You mutter, using air quotations.

He held up his hands. “Duly noted.”

⋅⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅⋅

Fox was a kriffing mess.

The situation with you was spiralling out of control—a beautiful disaster he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

He had tangled himself in a lie so foolish, so reckless , it made his stomach churn. But the way you spoke to him, the way you laughed, the way you flirted with Whisky … Stars, he had never wanted anything more.

And then, there was that officer .

Fox had seen the way the man looked at you in the hangar. It was painfully obvious—squared shoulders, a little too eager, the way his eyes lingered when you smiled. Kriff, it almost hurt.  

It shouldn’t have affected him. It had no right to affect him. But it did. A hot coil of something ugly, possessive, wrapped around his ribs at the sight. Another man looking at you the way he did.

And then there was Hound.

Fox clenched his jaw as his mind replayed the words from the hangar.

"You haven’t told her? I swear, Fox, if you don’t in the next few days, I will. She deserves better.”

He hated how involved Hound was in this. Hated that he was right .

He needed to tell you the truth. But how selfish would it be if he stretched this out just a little longer?

Even now, hidden in a dimly lit storage closet—far away from the constant questions about Rik Waldar , away from his brothers, away from you —he found himself rereading your messages from last night. Stars, he was smitten.

And from your replies, so were you.

He squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling sharply through his nose. “No. Stop it, Fox,” he muttered under his breath.

Yet, later that night, when the barracks had gone quiet and all his brothers were sleeping, he still found himself sneaking back to his office. Just to sit there, datapad in hand, waiting for your next message.

And tonight was no exception.

So, any pretty girls at the new base?

A smirk tugged at his lips at your message. Were you the jealous type?

None as pretty as you.

It didn’t take long for you to respond.

Ugh. You are smooth. Ever been told that before?

Once or twice. Why? Is it working?

He leaned back in his chair, waiting, knowing you’d take a moment to compose yourself. Sure enough, a minute later you reply.

Maybe. But I already like you, so you don’t have to try that hard.

Fox’s heart stopped. For a brief second, he forgot how to breathe. His hand tightened around the datapad, reading the words over and over again.

You already liked him.

Shit.

His fingers hovered over the keys, mind racing with what to say and how to respond without giving away too much. But before he could, another message came through.

Hound said something weird to me today, by the way.

His stomach twisted.

Weird how?

Apparently, he thinks I have a thing for Commander Fox.

Fox stiffened, eyes locked onto the screen, pulse thrumming in his ears.

Do you?

Your reply came fast. Too fast.

Pfft. Not a chance. He’s uptight and irritable all the time. It’s exhausting just being near him. He even walked me back to the station the other day and I felt so awkward.

Fox felt that one like a punch to the gut.

Damn. You really didn’t like him. Not as Fox, anyway.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his tone casual.

What if he’s just misunderstood?

Then he should try being less of an arse. Not my problem.

Fox exhaled slowly through his nose, tapping his fingers against the desk before taking a big gulp of caf. Stars, maybe he should have let you go on a caf run. That machine really is terrible. Anyway, he wasn’t sure why he asked what came next—maybe because, despite everything, he wanted to hear your answer: Is it just the attitude? Or are looks a factor too?

A pause. Then—

Dunno. Never seen his face, so I couldn’t say.

Fox stared at your message for a long moment. The truth sat heavy in his chest, but he still found himself typing.

Do looks matter?

Not really. But it’s nice to put a face to a name.

He runs a hand over his face, groaning softly into it. Right, he had to get this over and done with. 

Meanwhile back at your place, you lay sprawled out on your stomach, datapad clutched between your hands, grinning so hard it almost hurt.

Do you want to go on a date with me tomorrow?

The words had sent your heart into a fluttering mess, your feet instinctively kicking the air behind you as your mind instantly leapt to one question: What the hell am I going to wear?

Your fingers flew over the keyboard as you typed out a response, still biting back a smile.

Not going to ditch me this time?

His reply was immediate.

I promise.

You exhaled softly, rolling onto your back as your eyes flickered toward your wardrobe. You weren’t sure what kind of date Whisky had in mind, but that didn’t stop you from mentally sorting through every outfit you owned, already imagining what he’d like.

What kind of date did you have in mind?

One where I wine and dine you.

Your grin grew as you typed back.

I hope there’s dessert.

There will be.

Stars . If he kept this up, you were going to be insufferable tomorrow.

But as your excitement buzzed, a nagging thought tugged at the back of your mind. The hangar.

That moment when he had rushed off like something urgent was happening; only for you to later find out that there hadn’t been an issue at all. No escaped prisoner, no commotion. And then there was the thing he had been meaning to tell you.

You chewed your lip before hesitantly typing,

Will you tell me what you wanted to? Back in the meadow?

There was a slight pause before he replied.

Yes, I will. Please don’t worry. It will be okay.

You really hoped so.

Your stomach twisted slightly at the possibilities. He’d assured you there was no other woman, so that ruled out one terrifying thought. But what if it was something worse? Was he ill? Was there something serious he wasn’t telling you?

You grimaced, quickly pushing the thought aside before you could spiral.

Instead, you let your fingers brush over the keys, heart lightening as you typed,

You know, you really make me happy.

His response came quickly.

Good. Because you make me happy too.

That warm, giddy feeling spread through your chest, and before you could stop yourself, you let your fingers hover before typing something a little more… bold.

If the date goes well… maybe I’ll reward you.

There was a pause for a small moment. You feared maybe you were too bold but then:

Yeah? And what kind of reward are we talking about?

You grinned wickedly, rolling onto your side, fingers teasing the screen as you debated just how far you wanted to push him.

Oh, you know. Something worth being good for.

This time, the pause was longer.

Then, finally—

You’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart.

And you laughed, fully, out loud, feeling your cheeks heat at the thought of Whisky, wherever he was, probably losing his mind right now.

But what you didn’t know was that Fox was losing his mind.

Fox leaned back in his chair, his head tipping against the wall as he let out a slow, controlled breath through his nose. His datapad rested against his stomach, his free hand dragging down his face in frustration.

Or maybe desperation.

Because, stars, you were killing him. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. And it was his fault.

The way you flirted with him—unknowingly flirting with Fox —had him spiraling into dangerous waters. He felt warm, restless, an ache settling low in his stomach as his body reacted far too eagerly to the teasing words on the screen.

And that last message?

"Something worth being good for." He repeats in a whisper. His jaw clenched as he exhaled sharply, the heat of it crawling down his spine. He needed to stop this. He needed to stop before he said something incredibly stupid. 

I have to go.

Your response was instant.

So soon?

Yeah. Before I say something I shouldn’t.

Fox ran a hand through his hair, trying to will away the heat still simmering under his skin. Yep, he was certainly turned on right now.

Meet me tomorrow at 1900, west sector entrance. Dress nice.

Oh? Dress nice? Are you taking me somewhere fancy, Whisky?

Fox smirked, fingers gliding smoothly over the screen.

You’ll see. Sweet dreams, sweetheart.

He was just about to shut off the datapad when a new message came through.

Wait!

His thumb hovered over the screen. He exhaled slowly, waiting, heart thudding just a little faster than it should.

I miss seeing you.

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning.

Seeing me? Sweetheart, how do you think I feel? I can’t even see your beautiful face.

Smooth. He had to give himself credit—he was good at this. The easy flirting, the charm, the teasing. It was second nature by now.

But the moment your next message appeared, the confidence wavered.

Do you want to see me?

His breath hitched. His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as warmth spread in his chest…and a little lower.

That was flirty. And enticing.

His hand flexed against his thigh before quickly tapping out a response, keeping it light.

See you, how?

The three dots appeared for what felt like forever and a day until:

Don’t be thinking naughty thoughts, Whisky. Only my face.

Fox let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. Kriff. That was a relief. Not that he would have gone through with it if it had been something more, but still… He wasn’t sure how much self-control he had left after tonight’s teasing.

Then, a new message. A file attachment. Fox swallowed thickly as his thumb hovered for half a second before tapping it open.

And stars above—

His breath stalled in his throat.

It was just a picture of your face, nothing more, nothing scandalous—just you in bed, your head resting on your pillow, strands of hair messy around your face, lips parted ever so slightly, eyes soft and warm.

Beautiful.

Perfect.

He blinked, his chest tightening with something he didn’t want to name. Instead, his fingers moved on instinct.

You’re perfect.

And with that, he shut off the datapad, tossing it onto his desk before dragging his hands down his face with a long, suffering groan.

Tomorrow was going to kill him.

⋅⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅⋅

1900 hours. Dressed to impress. West Sector. Gift in back pocket.

Fox paced, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his white button-up crisp against his toned frame. The sleeves were neatly rolled up, a careful balance of refined and relaxed, but the way he kept shifting his weight gave away his nerves.

He had been replaying this moment for hours. What to say. How to act. How not to mess this up. All because he had accepted a note from you at 79’s.

"What was I thinking?" He muttered under his breath.

“Hey, handsome.”

Fox turned so fast he nearly stumbled, eyes widening.

And kriff, he was glad he did.

There you stood, bathed in the golden glow of Coruscant’s streetlights, dressed in deep red—the colours of the Guard. The dress hugged your figure in a way that made his throat go dry, and your heels only added to the effortless confidence you carried.

For a moment, he could only stare.

“Wow,” he breathed, the word slipping out before he could stop it.

The smile you gave him in return? Yeah, he was in trouble.

“Oh, stop it,” you teased, stepping closer, hands tucked behind your back. “You look very dashing, Whisky .”

He exhaled a soft chuckle, rubbing his hands together as if that would stop the heat creeping up his neck. “Thanks,” he murmured. Clearing his throat, he extended an arm. “Shall we?”

You took it without hesitation, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow, the warmth of your touch searing through the fabric of his sleeve. Your perfume drifted close—light, sweet, and enough to scramble his thoughts.

As he flagged down a cab, you glanced at him curiously when he rattled off an address.

“Somewhere special?”

Fox smirked. “Somewhere deserving of you.”

Your stomach flipped in excitement.

The ride was short, but that didn’t stop him from slipping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. It was easy, effortless—like this had always been a habit between you. Soft conversation flowed between the two of you, words dipped in laughter and teasing as the city lights blurred outside the window.

When you arrived, your breath caught.

Fox helped you out of the cab, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as he guided you forward. The restaurant was breathtaking. Twinkling fairy lights draped across wooden beams, casting a golden glow over the space. Trellises overflowed with soft blossoms, their fragrance mingling with the cool evening air. A fountain gurgled softly in the center of the courtyard, its quiet song blending with the hum of conversation.

He had gone all out.

Fox pulled out your chair, waiting for you to settle before taking his own.

“Well, Whisky ,” you giggled, resting your arms on the table, “you’re full of surprises.”

He smirked, pouring you both a glass of wine from a bottle swiftly delivered by a server. “You think so?”

“I know so.” You raised your glass, tapping it lightly against his before taking a sip. “How many girls have you brought here?”

His brow lifted slightly. “Would you believe me if I said none?”

You narrowed your eyes, playful. “I don’t know. You are a smooth talker.”

Fox chuckled, shaking his head as he glanced down at the menu. You watched him for a moment, admiring the way the dim lighting softened his features, how the corners of his mouth twitched when he was focused.

Then, something shifted.

His shoulders tensed, fingers tightening around the menu, his usual air of confidence faltering ever so slightly.

Your smile faded, just a touch. “Hey,” you said softly, reaching across the table to place your hand over his. “You okay?”

Fox blinked, snapping back to the moment. He looked at your hand—warm, steady, grounding—before clearing his throat and reaching for his drink.

“Y-yeah,” he said, voice not quite as smooth as before. He took a long sip, setting the glass down carefully. “Sorry. Just… nervous.”

You squeezed his hand gently before pulling back, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’s just me, Whisky. Nobody else.”

His jaw tightened for a moment, like he was biting back words.

You were. He wasn’t.

Then, he exhaled slowly and sat up straighter. “I know,” he murmured. “And I’m lucky you are.”

The tension melted just as quickly as it had come, and soon enough, conversation flowed again. The wine disappeared steadily, the appetisers arrived, and between bites, you found yourself giggling at his dry humour, your foot grazing his leg beneath the table.

“Careful,” Fox murmured, smirking against the rim of his glass.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Careful of what?”

His smirk deepened. “You know exactly what.”

“Mm. Do I?” You dragged the tip of your shoe just a little higher up his calf, watching the way his fingers twitched against his glass.

Fox exhaled sharply, setting his drink down with deliberate care.

“You’re playing with fire,” he warned, voice lower now.

You bit back a smile, taking a slow sip of wine. “Then I hope you’re fireproof.”

His fingers drummed against the table, gaze locked onto yours—dark, unreadable, utterly consumed. Then, with a quick glance around, as if double-checking your privacy, he reached into his back pocket.

“Before I forget…” he started, voice softer now, something almost uncertain laced within it. “I should give you your gift.”

You sat up a little straighter, warmth rushing to your cheeks as he placed a small, square box in front of you.

Your fingers brushed over the lid, heartbeat picking up. “A gift?”

Fox rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flickering to yours before he nodded. “It’s nothing huge, but…” He opened the box, revealing a delicate bracelet inside—a single red gem dangling from the thin band.

“Oh, Whisky,” you breathed, a grin appearing as you carefully lifted it from the box. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the weight of it cool against your skin. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

The tension in his shoulders eased at the sincerity in your voice. “Beautiful,” he murmured, fingers ghosting over your wrist as he latched it on for you, “like you.”

It was easy to get lost in this, lost in him.

For a little while, nothing else mattered.

For a little while, everything was perfect.

And then, in an instant, it wasn’t.

Your eyes drift over Fox’s shoulder, catching sight of a familiar figure. “Oh, hey! It’s Pia. You okay if I go say hi?”

Fox glanced back too, spotting Pia by the reception desk. She hadn't seen either of you yet, focused on whatever she was waiting for. “Sure,” he said lightly. “Just don’t go running off on me.”

You humoured him with a smile, brushing a hand over his shoulder as you passed.

“Pia?”

She turned at the sound of your voice, her face lighting up instantly. “Hey, you!” She pulled you into a quick hug, then leaned back, eyeing you with approval. “Damn, girl, you look sexy.”

You laughed, giving her a mock twirl. “Doing my best. I’m on a date.”

“Oh, same! Though mine’s late.” She rolled her eyes but grinned anyway. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

You nodded back toward your table. Pia’s gaze followed, her brows lifting slightly.

“Well, well,” she mused, chuckling. “Didn’t think the Commander had it in him.”

Your smile remains but sudden confusion surfaces.

“Hm?”

Pia glanced at you, still grinning. “I mean, I saw you two all cosy at 79’s. Figured you had a thing for him.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “Sure, but Whisky isn’t a Commander .”

Something shifted in Pia’s expression.

She looked back at Fox still sitting there, unaware, completely at ease. Then back at you.

“…Whisky?”

A cold unease settled over you. “Yeah.”

Pia’s lips parted, her arms crossing over her chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a Whisky ,” she said carefully. “And that? That isn’t one.”

Your stomach turned. “What are you saying?”

She hesitated, then exhaled. “That’s Fox. ”

The world around you dulled into nothing. Your mouth opened, but no words came. “Say that again.”

Pia’s confidence wavered, her grin long gone. “Love… I told you who he was that night.” Her brows knit together. “I thought you knew .”

No.

No, she hadn’t told you. She had been about to, but then a patron had called for her, and the moment had slipped away. You had never questioned it. Had never thought to.

It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.

Your head shook, a sickening drop in your stomach. “He… he told me his name was Whisky.”

Pia shifted uncomfortably, glancing between you and the man you thought you knew. “Wait—m-maybe it is,” she fumbled, grasping for something, anything to take back what she had just said. “I mean, he’s a clone, right? They all look the same, maybe—”

Her desperate excuse fell apart the second the next voice cut through the restaurant.

“ Fox! What are you doing here?”

Your blood ran cold.

Pia spun first, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

The voice belonged to Thire. He was walking straight toward your table, waving like it was nothing.

Fox stood quickly, his entire body stiff, hand raising in a useless attempt to silence his brother.

It was too late.

You felt him look at you.

Your eyes locked onto his, and in that moment, your heart shattered.

Everything you had built, every moment, every word— a lie.

A sharp breath lodged in your throat. You didn’t speak. Couldn’t. The weight in your chest threatened to crush you, and all you could do was turn on your heel and walk.

No— run.

Pia called your name, but you barely heard her. The restaurant blurred past, the cool air of the street hitting your face as you pushed through the doors. Your heart pounded in your ears, drowning out the noise of passing speeders and distant chatter.

Somewhere behind you, voices rose in argument—Pia’s unmistakable fury, sharp and cutting.

And then—

“ Wait! ”

Your breath hitched, legs faltering as you came to an abrupt stop.

Footsteps. Heels against pavement. Pia.

She caught up, panting slightly, hands gripping your wrists the second she reached you.

“I don’t understand,” you choked, a sob clawing its way to the surface. Your hands covered your mouth, shaking. “Why would he do this?”

Pia’s own frustration simmered beneath her concern, her jaw tight. “I don’t know, love.” She squeezed your hands. “I don’t have a clue what was going through his mind.”

The tears came too fast, hot and relentless. You tried to wipe them away, but it was useless. The pain of it, the humiliation —it burned like fire beneath your skin.

Pia didn’t hesitate. She pulled you close, her arms wrapping around you as you broke. “D-did he want to hurt me?” Your voice was barely there, raw and shaking. “I don’t— I don’t get it. ”

She exhaled a slow, miserable sigh, resting her chin atop your head. “I… I couldn’t tell you.”

But you could tell her.

And oh, did you have answers. “He never liked me,” you whispered, hiccuping between sobs. “Fox—he was always rude to me. It’s like he wanted to play with me.”

A look flickered across Pia’s face. One you couldn’t read.

“Would he do that?” she asked, voice hesitant. “Really?”

You pulled back slightly, pressing a trembling hand over your chest, trying to steady your breath. “W-why lie about who he was? He always talked about Fox—Fox this, Fox that.” Your stomach twisted. “Was he just—just trying to figure out what I didn’t like about him? Was this some kind of—of sick joke?”

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

Your mind raced in circles, spinning, grasping for answers you didn’t have. “Am I a bad person?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

Pia didn’t hesitate. “No.” She shook her head, voice firm. “You’re a kind-hearted person, and some idiot wanted to test that.”

It should have been comforting. It wasn’t.

Because none of it changed the truth.

“Oh—oh, stars. ” A fresh wave of dread crashed over you. “Thire! He’s going to tell everyone . ” Your breath came faster, panic swelling. “I can’t—I can’t —”

“Shh.” Pia took a deep breath, rubbing your arms in soothing circles. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t say a thing.” She reached into her bag, fishing out her key fob and pressing it into your trembling hands. “Go back to my place. I’ll be right behind you. You remember where I live?”

Your fingers curled around the fob, mind swimming. You nodded shakily. “O-okay. I think so. What are you doing?”

Pia scoffs. Tying her hair up, she adjusted her bag on her shoulder.

“Giving Fox another piece of my mind before he comes looking for you.”

🫧 Next Part Coming Soon

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Liar Liar (Part 6/?)

Part Six - Escape // «<< Part Five

🫧Pairings: Commander Fox X Female Reader

🫧 word count: 2.1k

🫧Chapter Summary: Tensions are high and secrets are being shared among the Guard. Meanwhile Fox's lies dig him in deeper trouble with one of his brothers.

🫧Warnings: Safe for work, implied argument between Hound and Fox, flirty messages, more lying, mentions of an escape prisoner, over protective fox kinda.

You spent far too long staring at your comm when you got back to your apartment, typing and deleting message after message, unable to settle on what to say to Whisky as your date had been cut short…

You could just ask him outright about what he wanted to say but something held you back. Every time your fingers hovered over the keys, doubt crept in, and you erased the words before they could be sent

So instead, you paced your apartment, overthinking.

What had he been about to say?

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was everything.

Maybe he didn’t want to date you. You would be upset, yes, but you hadn’t known him very long. Although, a part of you felt like you had known him for longer. Your stomach twists at the thought. Huh, maybe you would be more upset than you thought.

You set your comm down with a sigh, deciding to leave it for now. If he wanted to talk, he’d reach out. In the meantime, you distracted yourself the best way you knew how—watching terrible holomovies with your face buried in a bag of something sweet and delicious.

But even that wasn’t enough to settle your restless thoughts.

When the night cycle finally rolled in, you tucked yourself into bed, tossing and turning as your mind refused to quiet. Just as you were about to give up on sleep entirely and get up for a walk, the familiar chime of your comm made your breath hitch.

Whisky.

Your fingers fumbled slightly as you grabbed the device, opening the message.

Hello, please know I am very sorry that I had to cut our date short. I hope you got back to your apartment okay. We can arrange another date sometime soon.

A relieved smile tugged at your lips as you quickly typed back.

No worries, I hope everything is okay? It sounded urgent.

His response came almost immediately.

I am sure you will hear about it tomorrow. I have to go now. I hope you sleep well.

Your brows furrowed. “ Tomorrow?” You whisper to yourself.

A ripple of unease passed through you. Had something happened at work? Was it serious? Ugh, another thing to add to the list of worries.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, your fingers flew across the screen.

Before you go, what was it you wanted to tell me? Can you tell me now?

You waited.

And waited.

No reply came.

A frustrated sigh left your lips as you flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, your thoughts spinning uselessly. Eventually, exhaustion won out, pulling you into sleep.

And when you dreamed, it wasn’t of uncertainty or unanswered questions.

It was of the meadow.

⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

The moment you stepped into work, you knew something was wrong. The air was thick with hushed whispers and tension was rolling through the hall with every clone and officers exchanging anxious glances.

Curiosity gnawed at you with every step until you finally reached your station, where you spot Thire and Stone stood by the unloved caf machine, their usual smiley expressions replaced with something far more serious.

“Hey,” you greeted, setting your things down before walking over. “What’s going on?”

“You didn’t hear?” Stone asked, his brow creasing.

“Hear what?”

“The prisoner that came in the other day, Rik Waldar?” Thire said. “Thorn gave you the file to pass to Fox, remember?”

Your mind rifled through memories of endless reports and case files. You were so used to sorting out reports of prisoners coming and going, it was really hard to keep track of. So naturally, it was foggy at first, but then it clicked. It was the paperwork you handed over after coming back from the caf run. “I think so... why?”

Stone exhaled sharply. “He escaped.”

Your stomach dropped. “ Escaped? How? Is anyone hurt?”

“Everyone’s fine,” Thire reassured you quickly. “But Fox is—”

“Losing his mind,” Stone finished with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

You followed their gaze toward Fox’s empty desk, unease creeping down your spine. If there was ever a reason for him to be more irritable than usual, this was it.

Stone shook his head. “The worst part? We have no idea where the guy went. He vanished without a trace.”

“That’s… not possible,” you said, frowning. “Surely you can track him down?”

Thire and Stone exchanged a look, one that didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

“Apparently, he was a nightmare to find in the first place,” Thire admitted. “But we’re doing everything we can.”

Your fingers tapped anxiously against your arm as your thoughts spun. Was this what Whisky had meant? He had said you’d hear about it today. Infiltrating a ship would be a perfect way to slip away unnoticed… If you had any free time today, maybe you will go see Whisky and see if anything happened there.

You tried your best to go about your day, focusing on the usual rigmarole of tasks, but everything felt off. The tension among the clones was suffocating, stretching the hours unbearably thin. Normally, you’d be laughing at Thire and Stone bickering over something ridiculous to pass the time—but for once, they were actually working.

Like, really working.

You sat at your desk, fingers skimming over a datapad, scrolling through intergalactic news and any updates on the escaped prisoner. Re-reading his report didn’t make you feel any better—fraud, murder, theft, kidnapping. Stars, he was practically a one-man crime syndicate. What a great day to be a citizen of Coruscant.

“Find anything useful?”

You looked up to see Hound approaching, setting his helmet down on the desk beside you.

“Nah, not really,” you sighed. “Might go check out the hangar later.”

Hound stiffened, just barely, before clearing his throat. “Uh… why’s that?”

You paused. Kriff. That was a good question. It wasn’t your job to hunt down escaped criminals, and you definitely weren’t trained for it. But truthfully? You weren’t thinking about the prisoner at all.

You just wanted to see Whisky.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you hesitated. Should you tell him? What’s the worst that could happen?

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

Hound raised a brow. “Sure.”

A grin tugged at your lips. “Well… I’m kinda seeing someone.”

His expression shifted into a smirk, amused by how utterly smitten you sounded. “That’s great! Who’s the lucky guy?”

You glanced around, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “His name’s Whisky.”

There was a flicker of something in Hound’s expression—something that didn’t sit right. His lips pulled into a smile, but it looked tight. Forced.

“Whisky, huh?” His voice was casual, but there was tension in his shoulders.

You straightened slightly, setting the datapad down. “Do you know him?”

For a second, he didn’t answer. Then he shrugged. “Only heard of him in passing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“What? No.” He laughed, but it sounded hollow. “My head’s just preoccupied with everything going on, that’s all.”

Sure.

You didn’t quite believe him, but you didn’t feel like pressing it either. Between the prisoner, whatever secret Whisky was keeping, and now this , you were getting a headache.

“Alright,” you said, deciding to let it go. “Hey, I finally watched that holomovie you recommended.”

That seemed to do the trick. Hound perked up immediately, his tension melting away as he leaned on the desk, a smug grin overtaking his features. “Told you it was a masterpiece. Which part was your favourite?”

“Oh, definitely the part where the droid turned out to be the senator’s actual father.”

Hound barked out a laugh. “Right? That twist got me so bad the first time I watched it.”

You smirked, shaking your head as the conversation took a lighter turn. It was nice to momentarily push everything else aside, even if the questions still lurked in the back of your mind.

For the next while, you busied yourself with work, ordering supplies and tidying up, half-listening as Hound debated movie rankings with one of the other troopers. The hours stretched on, but eventually, you finally got a break.

Time to visit the hangar.

⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

You walk along the strip of the hangar where you last saw Whisky, scanning the area as casually as possible. There were several sections he could be in, but this was your best bet. Yet, as you search, there’s no sign of him.

Maybe he was wearing one of those mechanic helmets, blending in with the dozens of clones bustling about. You lean against the wall, eyes flicking over the sea of troopers and workers as you pull out your datapad. He still hadn’t replied to your last message, but you figured he was busy. Still, you hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen before—

“Hey, miss, everything alright?”

You glance up to see an officer approaching. He looked to be around your age, neatly dressed—almost too neat for someone stationed here. Probably new.

“Yeah, sorry, just looking for someone,” you say, keeping your voice light.

The officer doesn’t take the hint. “Anyone in particular? Maybe I could help you find her?”

You smile politely. “Him, actually. His name’s Whisky. Know him?”

Something in the officer’s expression shifts, barely perceptible, but enough for you to notice. His eyes flick around the hangar before settling back on you.

“Oh… is he a clone?”

You blink. The way he asked that felt off—like the word “clone” left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Yes,” you answer flatly, crossing your arms.

He exhales sharply through his nose, almost like a scoff, before shaking his head. “Sorry, can’t say I know a Whisky. But I could look up his CC number for you, if you’ve got it.”

Your lips press together. Of course, you didn’t know that.

Huh. He really was a hard man to track down.

The officer shrugs, clearly unbothered. “There’s a lot of clones working in this hangar. Hard to tell them apart.” His eyes linger on you, lips quirking into a grin. “But hey, if you don’t find him… you could always come looking for me instead.”

You let out a surprised laugh, unable to help yourself. At least he had confidence. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you tease, though your tone makes it clear you’re politely declining.

The officer chuckles and nods. “Well, I should get back to work. Good luck finding your guy.”

Before he turns to leave, something nags at you. A sudden thought.

“Wait,” you say quickly, making him pause. “Has anything bad happened in the hangar recently? Like… a security breach? An escaped prisoner?”

The officer furrows his brows. “No, nothing like that. No sign of any prisoner at all. From what I heard, he never even came through this section.”

Your stomach twists. Then why had Whisky run off so suddenly?

You mumble a quick thanks as the officer finally walks away, but your mind is already elsewhere, racing through possibilities.

And then—

A prickle runs down your spine. A feeling, deep and instinctual, like you’re being watched.

You glance up and not far away, standing rigid amidst the bustle of troopers, is a familiar figure clad in deep red armour. Commander Fox.

His visor is locked onto you, unreadable, unwavering.

And for reasons you can’t quite explain—your breath catches.

Before you could dwell on Fox’s prolonged stare, you quickly looked away, forcing yourself to focus on something—anything—else. Maybe he was just irritated that you weren’t in the office. You didn’t exactly have a solid reason to be down here, and if anyone would call you out on it, it’d be him.

Still, something about the way he had been watching you sent an uneasy shiver down your spine.

From the corner of your eye, you caught his attention shifting elsewhere—to Hound, who stood a few yards away, Grizzer trailing faithfully at his feet.

Hound didn’t look happy.

His brows were drawn, his jaw tight, and the way he stood—shoulders squared, fists curled at his sides—told you that whatever conversation he and Fox were about to have, it wasn’t a pleasant one.

You were too far away to hear a word of it, but the tension between Fox and Hound was unmistakable. The way Hound’s posture had stiffened, the sharpness in his gestures—it was clear whatever they were discussing wasn’t pleasant.

For a brief moment, you considered walking over. Maybe you could ease whatever was happening, smooth out whatever had both men looking so wound up. But then you thought better of it. You didn’t need to get caught up in unnecessary drama, not when you had your own tangled thoughts to deal with.

Pushing the scene aside, you turned, pulling out your datapad and tapping out a quick message to Whisky.

Hey, I’m at the hangar. Are you around?

You waited, both patiently and impatiently, fingers drumming along the edge of your device. You checked the time, realizing you’d need to head back soon—especially if Fox had already noticed you were absent.

A minute passed. No reply.

With a soft sigh, you tucked the datapad away and turned to leave.

Only to stop short.

"What are you doing here?"

You spun on your heel, a flicker of hope sparking before fizzling out when you saw not Whisky, but Fox standing before you.

"Commander," you greeted, a touch sheepish. "I was just heading back."

"That doesn’t answer my question." His voice carried that familiar sharp edge, making it clear he wasn’t in the mood for excuses.

You hesitated. You couldn’t exactly tell Fox what you were really doing here. One, your private life was none of his business. Two, the last thing you wanted was for him to go off about the escaped prisoner and accuse you of being careless.

So you lied.

"I was looking for you, actually."

His helmet tilted slightly, the only indication of mild curiosity. "What for?"

Think. Say anything.

"Do you want me to go on a caf run?"

Fox straightened, arms folding over his chest, his stance only adding to the scrutiny of the moment. "You came all the way to the hangar just to ask me that?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. "Yes," you answered smoothly.

A sigh blew past his modulator, and he slowly shook his head. "That won’t be necessary."

You nodded, shifting on your feet. "Okay then. Just thought everyone could use a pick-me-up. Especially you. "

Fox was silent for a beat before he echoed your words, tone unreadable. " Especially me?"

You hesitated. Was he genuinely asking, or was that irritation laced beneath his words? You could never quite tell.

"Well, it’s just that Stone said—"

"Stone says a lot," Fox cut you off flatly. "I’d like you to head back to your station."

His tone was sharp, but then—almost imperceptibly—it softened. "It’s… not safe, is all."

The unexpected shift made you smile slightly, nodding. "Yes, Commander. I understand."

"Good."

"Good," you repeat.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You just stood there, looking at eachother, as if something unspoken hung between you.

You cleared your throat, finally breaking the pause. "I should head back."

Fox gave a curt nod. "I’ll walk with you."

Okay... now that was unexpcted. Then again, if a prisoner was on the loose it does make you feel a touch safer.

The walk back was quiet and awkward however.

Fox's comm constantly flashed with unread transmissions, the small red light blinking again and again. You weren’t sure if he was ignoring them or just too caught up in whatever storm was brewing in his head.

You hesitated before speaking. "Do you… have a lead on the prisoner? Rik Waldar?"

His pace didn’t falter, nor did his posture shift. "You shouldn’t worry about that."

You frowned slightly but let it drop.

The hallways were unusually quiet, and for a moment, it felt like you and Fox were the only two people in the entire sector.

Then a subtle, almost imperceptible sound came from above.

A faint thump.

Your eyes flicked up toward the vents, brows creased in wonder. What was that?

Fox didn’t react. He hadn’t noticed it.

It could’ve been nothing—just the walls settling, just an old pipe shifting. You must have looked troubled because Fox suddenly spoke. "What’s wrong?"

The question surprised you. He wasn’t the type to ask things like that.

"Nothing," you said quickly, brushing it off.

He didn’t push. Just walked beside you in silence, unreadable as ever behind his helmet.

The moment you stepped back into the station, Fox said nothing—didn’t so much as glance your way—as he turned and strode off in another direction.

You watched him for a second before shaking your head and heading toward your desk. As you walked past, you caught Thire and Stone exchanging glances, clearly noticing that you’d come back with the Commander.

But, thankfully, they didn’t comment on it.

Sighing, you settled into your seat, ready to finally focus on work. Your fingers had just brushed over a datapad when your comm chimed.

You barely glanced at the screen at first, expecting some mundane notification—until you saw the name.

Whisky.

Your heart leapt, and you quickly unlocked the device, scanning the message.

Sorry for the delay. Got transferred to a different base this morning, only for a few days. Hope you don’t miss me too much.

Your heart sank just a little. A few days? That meant you wouldn’t get to see him for a while. But at least he replied. The subtle teasing in his message was also enoguh to make your heart flip. You quickly glanced around, ensuring no one was peering over your shoulder before you typed back a response.

A few days, huh? That’s a long time to go without my favorite mechanic. Guess I’ll have to find another handsome clone to keep me company…

You barely had a second to breathe before another message came through.

Rude. And here I was thinking about bringing you back a souvenir. Maybe I won’t now.

Biting your lip to contain your smile, you fired back.

A souvenir? Now you have to tell me what it is.

Nope. You’ll have to suffer.

That did it. A small giggle escaped you before you could stop it.

Immediately, Thire and Stone’s heads snapped in your direction. They were on you like a pair of kath hounds, striding over to your desk with knowing smirks.

“What’s so funny?” Thire asked, arms crossed, clearly amused.

“You’ve been awfully secretive today,” Stone added, wiggling his brows.

You quickly locked your datapad, feeling your face heat up. “Nothing, just—nothing important.”

Thire and Stone exchanged a glance, their grins widening before Stone let out an exaggerated hmm. “Maybe Hound was right.”

Your brows knitted together instantly. “Right about what?”

Before Stone could answer, Thire smacked him on the back of the head. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For running your mouth,” Thire grumbled.

“No, no, no, absolutely not,” you said firmly, sitting up straighter. “You have to tell me now.”

Stone rubbed the back of his head but gave you a teasing look. “Hound seems to think you and Fox have… a thing. ”

You blinked. Hard. “What?” You stared between them, utterly baffled, before scoffing. “Me and Fox ? Never in a million years. Where the hell did he get that idea?”

Thire looked like he wanted to stay out of it entirely, but Stone, ever the instigator, only shrugged. “No idea. He just said something seemed different between you two. Like you’re secretly together.”

You gave them both a flat, incredulous look. “Well, he’s dead wrong.”

“Yeah?” Stone smirked. “Then why were you walking back from the hangar with the Commander?”

Your mouth opened, then shut. There was no chance in all that was the Maker you were telling these two about Whisky. “I—That— That was nothing. He just… told me to go back to my station, that’s all.”

Thire sighed, rubbing his temples. “I swear, the gossip in this place is worse than a bunch of cadets.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “I can’t believe Hound actually thought that.”

Stone just grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Hey, I’m just saying—Fox doesn’t usually go anywhere with anyone.”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Stars, kill me now. ”

You couldn’t get your head round it. Why would Hound think yourself and the Commander had a thing? Why are the two of them arguing in the hangar? Surely that was not about you? Was it?

Then you thought about how you met Fox’s stare, how he had been watching you and the Officer. Was he…? No, no. Surely not. The last thing you can imagine is the intolerable Commander being jealous.

Today was proving too much.

Something was going on but you just couldn’t for the life of you figure out what.

Part One - 79's

Part Two - Reflection

Part Three - Sniffed Out

Part Four - Dreams

Part Five - I'll Take My Whisky Neat

Part Six - Escape

Part Seven - The Truth

Part Eight - Aftermath

Or read on AO3 here for more parts ♥️

Tags: @forcesavetheclones s @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel @stellarbit @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @greaser-wolf @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @the-bad-batch-baroness @dreamie411 @griffedeloup @501st104th212th99s @clonecyare88 @namechange-mykidfoundmyblog @mitth-eli-vanto @cloneflo99

[erellenora]

Hi Star Wars friends,

How are we doing? I just wanted to check it, and see how people are doing, and maybe talk about life. Life’s been rough for me, as I would it is for others. I’m trying to reconnect as well, I’ve been very absent for the Tumblr world.

[erellenora]

Liar Liar (Part 6/?)

Part Six - Escape // «<< Part Five

🫧Pairings: Commander Fox X Female Reader

🫧 word count: 2.1k

🫧Chapter Summary: Tensions are high and secrets are being shared among the Guard. Meanwhile Fox's lies dig him in deeper trouble with one of his brothers.

🫧Warnings: Safe for work, implied argument between Hound and Fox, flirty messages, more lying, mentions of an escape prisoner, over protective fox kinda.

You spent far too long staring at your comm when you got back to your apartment, typing and deleting message after message, unable to settle on what to say to Whisky as your date had been cut short…

You could just ask him outright about what he wanted to say but something held you back. Every time your fingers hovered over the keys, doubt crept in, and you erased the words before they could be sent

So instead, you paced your apartment, overthinking.

What had he been about to say?

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was everything.

Maybe he didn’t want to date you. You would be upset, yes, but you hadn’t known him very long. Although, a part of you felt like you had known him for longer. Your stomach twists at the thought. Huh, maybe you would be more upset than you thought.

You set your comm down with a sigh, deciding to leave it for now. If he wanted to talk, he’d reach out. In the meantime, you distracted yourself the best way you knew how—watching terrible holomovies with your face buried in a bag of something sweet and delicious.

But even that wasn’t enough to settle your restless thoughts.

When the night cycle finally rolled in, you tucked yourself into bed, tossing and turning as your mind refused to quiet. Just as you were about to give up on sleep entirely and get up for a walk, the familiar chime of your comm made your breath hitch.

Whisky.

Your fingers fumbled slightly as you grabbed the device, opening the message.

Hello, please know I am very sorry that I had to cut our date short. I hope you got back to your apartment okay. We can arrange another date sometime soon.

A relieved smile tugged at your lips as you quickly typed back.

No worries, I hope everything is okay? It sounded urgent.

His response came almost immediately.

I am sure you will hear about it tomorrow. I have to go now. I hope you sleep well.

Your brows furrowed. “ Tomorrow?” You whisper to yourself.

A ripple of unease passed through you. Had something happened at work? Was it serious? Ugh, another thing to add to the list of worries.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, your fingers flew across the screen.

Before you go, what was it you wanted to tell me? Can you tell me now?

You waited.

And waited.

No reply came.

A frustrated sigh left your lips as you flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, your thoughts spinning uselessly. Eventually, exhaustion won out, pulling you into sleep.

And when you dreamed, it wasn’t of uncertainty or unanswered questions.

It was of the meadow.

⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

The moment you stepped into work, you knew something was wrong. The air was thick with hushed whispers and tension was rolling through the hall with every clone and officers exchanging anxious glances.

Curiosity gnawed at you with every step until you finally reached your station, where you spot Thire and Stone stood by the unloved caf machine, their usual smiley expressions replaced with something far more serious.

“Hey,” you greeted, setting your things down before walking over. “What’s going on?”

“You didn’t hear?” Stone asked, his brow creasing.

“Hear what?”

“The prisoner that came in the other day, Rik Waldar?” Thire said. “Thorn gave you the file to pass to Fox, remember?”

Your mind rifled through memories of endless reports and case files. You were so used to sorting out reports of prisoners coming and going, it was really hard to keep track of. So naturally, it was foggy at first, but then it clicked. It was the paperwork you handed over after coming back from the caf run. “I think so... why?”

Stone exhaled sharply. “He escaped.”

Your stomach dropped. “ Escaped? How? Is anyone hurt?”

“Everyone’s fine,” Thire reassured you quickly. “But Fox is—”

“Losing his mind,” Stone finished with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his tired face.

You followed their gaze toward Fox’s empty desk, unease creeping down your spine. If there was ever a reason for him to be more irritable than usual, this was it.

Stone shook his head. “The worst part? We have no idea where the guy went. He vanished without a trace.”

“That’s… not possible,” you said, frowning. “Surely you can track him down?”

Thire and Stone exchanged a look, one that didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

“Apparently, he was a nightmare to find in the first place,” Thire admitted. “But we’re doing everything we can.”

Your fingers tapped anxiously against your arm as your thoughts spun. Was this what Whisky had meant? He had said you’d hear about it today. Infiltrating a ship would be a perfect way to slip away unnoticed… If you had any free time today, maybe you will go see Whisky and see if anything happened there.

You tried your best to go about your day, focusing on the usual rigmarole of tasks, but everything felt off. The tension among the clones was suffocating, stretching the hours unbearably thin. Normally, you’d be laughing at Thire and Stone bickering over something ridiculous to pass the time—but for once, they were actually working.

Like, really working.

You sat at your desk, fingers skimming over a datapad, scrolling through intergalactic news and any updates on the escaped prisoner. Re-reading his report didn’t make you feel any better—fraud, murder, theft, kidnapping. Stars, he was practically a one-man crime syndicate. What a great day to be a citizen of Coruscant.

“Find anything useful?”

You looked up to see Hound approaching, setting his helmet down on the desk beside you.

“Nah, not really,” you sighed. “Might go check out the hangar later.”

Hound stiffened, just barely, before clearing his throat. “Uh… why’s that?”

You paused. Kriff. That was a good question. It wasn’t your job to hunt down escaped criminals, and you definitely weren’t trained for it. But truthfully? You weren’t thinking about the prisoner at all.

You just wanted to see Whisky.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you hesitated. Should you tell him? What’s the worst that could happen?

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

Hound raised a brow. “Sure.”

A grin tugged at your lips. “Well… I’m kinda seeing someone.”

His expression shifted into a smirk, amused by how utterly smitten you sounded. “That’s great! Who’s the lucky guy?”

You glanced around, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “His name’s Whisky.”

There was a flicker of something in Hound’s expression—something that didn’t sit right. His lips pulled into a smile, but it looked tight. Forced.

“Whisky, huh?” His voice was casual, but there was tension in his shoulders.

You straightened slightly, setting the datapad down. “Do you know him?”

For a second, he didn’t answer. Then he shrugged. “Only heard of him in passing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“What? No.” He laughed, but it sounded hollow. “My head’s just preoccupied with everything going on, that’s all.”

Sure.

You didn’t quite believe him, but you didn’t feel like pressing it either. Between the prisoner, whatever secret Whisky was keeping, and now this , you were getting a headache.

“Alright,” you said, deciding to let it go. “Hey, I finally watched that holomovie you recommended.”

That seemed to do the trick. Hound perked up immediately, his tension melting away as he leaned on the desk, a smug grin overtaking his features. “Told you it was a masterpiece. Which part was your favourite?”

“Oh, definitely the part where the droid turned out to be the senator’s actual father.”

Hound barked out a laugh. “Right? That twist got me so bad the first time I watched it.”

You smirked, shaking your head as the conversation took a lighter turn. It was nice to momentarily push everything else aside, even if the questions still lurked in the back of your mind.

For the next while, you busied yourself with work, ordering supplies and tidying up, half-listening as Hound debated movie rankings with one of the other troopers. The hours stretched on, but eventually, you finally got a break.

Time to visit the hangar.

⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

You walk along the strip of the hangar where you last saw Whisky, scanning the area as casually as possible. There were several sections he could be in, but this was your best bet. Yet, as you search, there’s no sign of him.

Maybe he was wearing one of those mechanic helmets, blending in with the dozens of clones bustling about. You lean against the wall, eyes flicking over the sea of troopers and workers as you pull out your datapad. He still hadn’t replied to your last message, but you figured he was busy. Still, you hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen before—

“Hey, miss, everything alright?”

You glance up to see an officer approaching. He looked to be around your age, neatly dressed—almost too neat for someone stationed here. Probably new.

“Yeah, sorry, just looking for someone,” you say, keeping your voice light.

The officer doesn’t take the hint. “Anyone in particular? Maybe I could help you find her?”

You smile politely. “Him, actually. His name’s Whisky. Know him?”

Something in the officer’s expression shifts, barely perceptible, but enough for you to notice. His eyes flick around the hangar before settling back on you.

“Oh… is he a clone?”

You blink. The way he asked that felt off—like the word “clone” left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Yes,” you answer flatly, crossing your arms.

He exhales sharply through his nose, almost like a scoff, before shaking his head. “Sorry, can’t say I know a Whisky. But I could look up his CC number for you, if you’ve got it.”

Your lips press together. Of course, you didn’t know that.

Huh. He really was a hard man to track down.

The officer shrugs, clearly unbothered. “There’s a lot of clones working in this hangar. Hard to tell them apart.” His eyes linger on you, lips quirking into a grin. “But hey, if you don’t find him… you could always come looking for me instead.”

You let out a surprised laugh, unable to help yourself. At least he had confidence. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you tease, though your tone makes it clear you’re politely declining.

The officer chuckles and nods. “Well, I should get back to work. Good luck finding your guy.”

Before he turns to leave, something nags at you. A sudden thought.

“Wait,” you say quickly, making him pause. “Has anything bad happened in the hangar recently? Like… a security breach? An escaped prisoner?”

The officer furrows his brows. “No, nothing like that. No sign of any prisoner at all. From what I heard, he never even came through this section.”

Your stomach twists. Then why had Whisky run off so suddenly?

You mumble a quick thanks as the officer finally walks away, but your mind is already elsewhere, racing through possibilities.

And then—

A prickle runs down your spine. A feeling, deep and instinctual, like you’re being watched.

You glance up and not far away, standing rigid amidst the bustle of troopers, is a familiar figure clad in deep red armour. Commander Fox.

His visor is locked onto you, unreadable, unwavering.

And for reasons you can’t quite explain—your breath catches.

Before you could dwell on Fox’s prolonged stare, you quickly looked away, forcing yourself to focus on something—anything—else. Maybe he was just irritated that you weren’t in the office. You didn’t exactly have a solid reason to be down here, and if anyone would call you out on it, it’d be him.

Still, something about the way he had been watching you sent an uneasy shiver down your spine.

From the corner of your eye, you caught his attention shifting elsewhere—to Hound, who stood a few yards away, Grizzer trailing faithfully at his feet.

Hound didn’t look happy.

His brows were drawn, his jaw tight, and the way he stood—shoulders squared, fists curled at his sides—told you that whatever conversation he and Fox were about to have, it wasn’t a pleasant one.

You were too far away to hear a word of it, but the tension between Fox and Hound was unmistakable. The way Hound’s posture had stiffened, the sharpness in his gestures—it was clear whatever they were discussing wasn’t pleasant.

For a brief moment, you considered walking over. Maybe you could ease whatever was happening, smooth out whatever had both men looking so wound up. But then you thought better of it. You didn’t need to get caught up in unnecessary drama, not when you had your own tangled thoughts to deal with.

Pushing the scene aside, you turned, pulling out your datapad and tapping out a quick message to Whisky.

Hey, I’m at the hangar. Are you around?

You waited, both patiently and impatiently, fingers drumming along the edge of your device. You checked the time, realizing you’d need to head back soon—especially if Fox had already noticed you were absent.

A minute passed. No reply.

With a soft sigh, you tucked the datapad away and turned to leave.

Only to stop short.

"What are you doing here?"

You spun on your heel, a flicker of hope sparking before fizzling out when you saw not Whisky, but Fox standing before you.

"Commander," you greeted, a touch sheepish. "I was just heading back."

"That doesn’t answer my question." His voice carried that familiar sharp edge, making it clear he wasn’t in the mood for excuses.

You hesitated. You couldn’t exactly tell Fox what you were really doing here. One, your private life was none of his business. Two, the last thing you wanted was for him to go off about the escaped prisoner and accuse you of being careless.

So you lied.

"I was looking for you, actually."

His helmet tilted slightly, the only indication of mild curiosity. "What for?"

Think. Say anything.

"Do you want me to go on a caf run?"

Fox straightened, arms folding over his chest, his stance only adding to the scrutiny of the moment. "You came all the way to the hangar just to ask me that?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. "Yes," you answered smoothly.

A sigh blew past his modulator, and he slowly shook his head. "That won’t be necessary."

You nodded, shifting on your feet. "Okay then. Just thought everyone could use a pick-me-up. Especially you. "

Fox was silent for a beat before he echoed your words, tone unreadable. " Especially me?"

You hesitated. Was he genuinely asking, or was that irritation laced beneath his words? You could never quite tell.

"Well, it’s just that Stone said—"

"Stone says a lot," Fox cut you off flatly. "I’d like you to head back to your station."

His tone was sharp, but then—almost imperceptibly—it softened. "It’s… not safe, is all."

The unexpected shift made you smile slightly, nodding. "Yes, Commander. I understand."

"Good."

"Good," you repeat.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You just stood there, looking at eachother, as if something unspoken hung between you.

You cleared your throat, finally breaking the pause. "I should head back."

Fox gave a curt nod. "I’ll walk with you."

Okay... now that was unexpcted. Then again, if a prisoner was on the loose it does make you feel a touch safer.

The walk back was quiet and awkward however.

Fox's comm constantly flashed with unread transmissions, the small red light blinking again and again. You weren’t sure if he was ignoring them or just too caught up in whatever storm was brewing in his head.

You hesitated before speaking. "Do you… have a lead on the prisoner? Rik Waldar?"

His pace didn’t falter, nor did his posture shift. "You shouldn’t worry about that."

You frowned slightly but let it drop.

The hallways were unusually quiet, and for a moment, it felt like you and Fox were the only two people in the entire sector.

Then a subtle, almost imperceptible sound came from above.

A faint thump.

Your eyes flicked up toward the vents, brows creased in wonder. What was that?

Fox didn’t react. He hadn’t noticed it.

It could’ve been nothing—just the walls settling, just an old pipe shifting. You must have looked troubled because Fox suddenly spoke. "What’s wrong?"

The question surprised you. He wasn’t the type to ask things like that.

"Nothing," you said quickly, brushing it off.

He didn’t push. Just walked beside you in silence, unreadable as ever behind his helmet.

The moment you stepped back into the station, Fox said nothing—didn’t so much as glance your way—as he turned and strode off in another direction.

You watched him for a second before shaking your head and heading toward your desk. As you walked past, you caught Thire and Stone exchanging glances, clearly noticing that you’d come back with the Commander.

But, thankfully, they didn’t comment on it.

Sighing, you settled into your seat, ready to finally focus on work. Your fingers had just brushed over a datapad when your comm chimed.

You barely glanced at the screen at first, expecting some mundane notification—until you saw the name.

Whisky.

Your heart leapt, and you quickly unlocked the device, scanning the message.

Sorry for the delay. Got transferred to a different base this morning, only for a few days. Hope you don’t miss me too much.

Your heart sank just a little. A few days? That meant you wouldn’t get to see him for a while. But at least he replied. The subtle teasing in his message was also enoguh to make your heart flip. You quickly glanced around, ensuring no one was peering over your shoulder before you typed back a response.

A few days, huh? That’s a long time to go without my favorite mechanic. Guess I’ll have to find another handsome clone to keep me company…

You barely had a second to breathe before another message came through.

Rude. And here I was thinking about bringing you back a souvenir. Maybe I won’t now.

Biting your lip to contain your smile, you fired back.

A souvenir? Now you have to tell me what it is.

Nope. You’ll have to suffer.

That did it. A small giggle escaped you before you could stop it.

Immediately, Thire and Stone’s heads snapped in your direction. They were on you like a pair of kath hounds, striding over to your desk with knowing smirks.

“What’s so funny?” Thire asked, arms crossed, clearly amused.

“You’ve been awfully secretive today,” Stone added, wiggling his brows.

You quickly locked your datapad, feeling your face heat up. “Nothing, just—nothing important.”

Thire and Stone exchanged a glance, their grins widening before Stone let out an exaggerated hmm. “Maybe Hound was right.”

Your brows knitted together instantly. “Right about what?”

Before Stone could answer, Thire smacked him on the back of the head. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For running your mouth,” Thire grumbled.

“No, no, no, absolutely not,” you said firmly, sitting up straighter. “You have to tell me now.”

Stone rubbed the back of his head but gave you a teasing look. “Hound seems to think you and Fox have… a thing. ”

You blinked. Hard. “What?” You stared between them, utterly baffled, before scoffing. “Me and Fox ? Never in a million years. Where the hell did he get that idea?”

Thire looked like he wanted to stay out of it entirely, but Stone, ever the instigator, only shrugged. “No idea. He just said something seemed different between you two. Like you’re secretly together.”

You gave them both a flat, incredulous look. “Well, he’s dead wrong.”

“Yeah?” Stone smirked. “Then why were you walking back from the hangar with the Commander?”

Your mouth opened, then shut. There was no chance in all that was the Maker you were telling these two about Whisky. “I—That— That was nothing. He just… told me to go back to my station, that’s all.”

Thire sighed, rubbing his temples. “I swear, the gossip in this place is worse than a bunch of cadets.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “I can’t believe Hound actually thought that.”

Stone just grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Hey, I’m just saying—Fox doesn’t usually go anywhere with anyone.”

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Stars, kill me now. ”

You couldn’t get your head round it. Why would Hound think yourself and the Commander had a thing? Why are the two of them arguing in the hangar? Surely that was not about you? Was it?

Then you thought about how you met Fox’s stare, how he had been watching you and the Officer. Was he…? No, no. Surely not. The last thing you can imagine is the intolerable Commander being jealous.

Today was proving too much.

Something was going on but you just couldn’t for the life of you figure out what.

Part One - 79's

Part Two - Reflection

Part Three - Sniffed Out

Part Four - Dreams

Part Five - I'll Take My Whisky Neat

Part Six - Escape

Part Seven - The Truth

Part Eight - Aftermath

Or read on AO3 here for more parts ♥️

Tags: @forcesavetheclones s @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel @stellarbit @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @greaser-wolf @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @the-bad-batch-baroness @dreamie411 @griffedeloup @501st104th212th99s @clonecyare88 @namechange-mykidfoundmyblog @mitth-eli-vanto @cloneflo99

[erellenora]

dressed to impress 😌

[erellenora]

Liar Liar (part 5/?)

🫧 Part Five - I’ll Take My Whisky Neat // <<< Part Four

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female Reader

🫧 word count: 2.1k

🫧 Chapter Summary: When 'Whisky' reveals he needs to tell you something, your mind and heart gets tangled in knots. Meanwhile the Corrie Guard have other pressing matters on their hands.

🫧 Warnings: safe for work, of course more lying, flirting, lap sitting, talks about the future, fluff.

The conversation flowed easily between you. With him, you just felt completely at ease, like the rest of the galaxy didn’t exist and it was just you two.

Whisky’s posture had relaxed, his shoulders no longer tense, and his gaze was warm as he watched you tell a story. “I’m serious,” you said, grinning as you leaned back on your hands, “I thought we were done for. Thire was ready to throw us under the bus, too.”

He chuckled, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “Thire? Really?”

“Oh yeah,” you laughed, remembering the way Thire had panicked. “We were hiding behind some crates after we, uh… accidentally set off a alarm. Stone was trying not to laugh, and Thire was swearing a bunch and threatened to tell Fox everything if he caught us.” You shook your head, a fond smile on your face at one of many chaotic days. “We heard his boots coming down the hall, and I’ve never seen Thire go so clammy in my life.”

Whisky’s eyes widened, a look of surprise flickering across his face before he burst out. “I can’t believe you were causing trouble with the Coruscant Guard,” he teased, his shoulders shaking as he tried to contain his laughter. “No wonder Fox is always so grumpy.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging his shoulder playfully. “It wasn’t even that bad! Just a little prank gone wrong.” You sighed dramatically, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “It’s not my fault Fox has no sense of humour.”

He shook his head, though amused. “Probably because you’re all trouble, you know that?”

You grinned, your eyes twinkling. “I like to keep things interesting.”

His expression softened, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll bet you do.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, the two of you simply enjoying each other’s presence. It felt… right. Easy. Like you could spend hours here just talking and laughing with him.

But then his fingers started drumming against his thigh again, a sign you were starting to recognise as nerves. His gaze grew distant, his shoulders tensing slightly. “You know…” he started, his voice lower now, “I think I get why Fox is so protective of you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Why’s that?”

He hesitated, his jaw clenching as his eyes flicked to the ground. “You’re important. To a lot of people. I don’t think he realised it.”

Your chest tightened, his words stirring something deep inside you. It was as if Fox was saying it staright to you.

“I don’t know about that.” You looked away, suddenly feeling shy. “I just try to be there for them. Like they are for me.”

“Do you think that, uh, Fox, thinks you’re there for him? Like you are with Stone and Thire I mean.” Your brows knit together as you sit up and look at him. “You sure like to ask alot of questions about Fox, y’know? Any reason.”

“N-No.” He stutters quickly. “Just simply asking.”

“Alright, alright,” you raise your hands up in defence, hoping he didn’t take it to heart but you can’t help but notice the topic of Fox quite a lot. “Well, to answer your question: I don’t know. I’ve tried joking here and there with him a few times but there’s no knocking down that wall he built.”

“Wall?” You nod. “Sure. He’s one of the most elite Commanders in the GAR. He doesn’t have time for fun and games.” You then roll your eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh.”

Whisky, or should we say Fox, feels his stomach twist. You weren’t bad-mouthing him, but there’s a clear divide between him, yourself and his brothers. Kark, maybe he did have to lighten up after all this.

“Anyway, enough about him.” You hum, your fingers gliding through the glades of grass. “Any more crazy stories from your side of the Guard?”

“Ah, nothing that exciting. Mostly just…fixing things.”

You scrunched your nose. “Boring.”

He laughed this time, but the slight tension in his posture lingered. “Yeah, guess I’m just not as much of a troublemaker as you.”

You gasped in mock offence, placing a hand over your heart. “How dare you? I’ll have you know I’m a model citizen.”

He arched an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “Right… remind me again who set off an alarm and hid behind crates?”

You stuck your tongue out at him, unable to hide your grin. “Fine. Maybe just a little trouble.”

You loved the way his face lit up when he laughed. He was far too handsome for his own good.

His laughter soon faded, his gaze growing thoughtful as he looked at you. “Hey, do you remember at 79’s, when you asked me what I wanted to do after the war?”

You blinked, the memory surfacing. “Yeah, I remember. You said you didn’t know… that you hadn’t thought about it much.”

“I think I’ve figured it out now.”

Curiosity sparked in you, and you leaned in, giving him your full attention. “And what’s that?”

He hesitated, but then his expression softened, his eyes growing distant. “I want to settle down… find somewhere quiet. Have a home and a wife. Maybe even some kids, if I’m lucky.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his confession hitting you harder than you expected. It was such a simple dream, but coming from him, it felt so personal and real. “That sounds nice, Whisky. Really nice.”

His gaze lifted, eyes locking with yours, and for a moment, you swore his walls were completely down. You could see everything he was feeling—the hope, the fear, the longing.

A teasing smile plays on your lips. “So, do you have a wife in mind yet?”

His eyes widened, his face flushing with warmth. “W-What? No… I mean…” He stumbled over his words, a nervous laugh escaping him. “I didn’t… I wasn’t saying… No.”

You laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet meadow. “Relax, I was only jokin’.” You tilt your head back, the sun warm on your face. “But…” you say slowly, sneaking a peak at him mischievously, "if there was a candidate, what would she be like?”

He swallowed, his eyes flicking back to you before he looked away, scratching at the back of his neck. “Well, she’d probably be strong. Brave and loyal. Funny, too.”

You tilted your head, watching him as he spoke. “Sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot.”

A shy smile tugged at his lips. “Only quite recently.”

You felt bold then, the teasing glint in his eyes sparking something in you. 

There was a moment of hesitance but the two of you were alone, the situation felt right. 

Shifting onto your knees, you moved toward him, his eyes widening as you straddled his lap, settling down with a casual confidence you didn’t quite feel. His hands instinctively went to your waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt as his breath hitched.

You leaned in, your face so close you could feel his warmth, “What else?”

His eyes were wide, his grip on your waist tightening. He was speechless, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to form words as his whole body grew warm.

You grinned, loving the way you had him completely flustered. “C’mon, Whisky… what else does the perfect girl have?”

Fox swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile moment between you. “She’s beautiful. Kind. She makes me feel… normal.” His gaze flickered downward, lingering on your lips for just a second too long. “And I’d do anything to protect her.”

Your breath hitched, his words settling deep in your chest, making your heart pound against your ribs. You felt the heat of his body beneath your hands, the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips as they trailed from his chest to his shoulders.

“It’s strange,” you murmured, tilting your head as your fingers toyed with the edge of his hood. He didn’t stop you as you slowly pushed it back, revealing the sharp lines of his face, the soft streaks of silver in his hair. Your fingertips brushed lightly over his skin, tracing the faint scars along his jaw before threading into his hair. Your touch was reverent, as if trying to commit every inch of him to memory.

“I feel like I know you,” you whispered, eyes locking onto his, searching for something unspoken. “Really… really know you.”

Fox’s mind was a battlefield, a war waging between duty and desire, between truth and deception. But all of that faded into the back of his mind as he looked at you and the unguarded moment between the two of you. You were so close, warm and trusting, pressed against him in a way that made him forget, just for a second, that this was all built on a lie.

He exhaled shakily, his forehead brushing against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“Maybe you do,” he murmured.

You didn’t quite understand what he meant, but you didn’t care. You were too caught up in the way his fingers skimmed along your waist, the way his hands pressed against the small of your back, drawing you in as if he was afraid to let go. The moment was intoxicating, pulling you in deeper, drowning you in everything that was him .

You leaned in, your lips just a whisper away—

And then he stiffened.

It was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was enough. 

Then, he pulled back. Just a fraction. 

“I can’t.”

The words were a cold splash of reality against your skin. Your eyes fluttered open, searching his face, your stomach twisting into a painful knot.

“S-Sorry,” you stammered, retreating slightly. “Did I overstep or—?”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head quickly, his expression laced with something close to regret. His hands, still warm against your body, squeezed just slightly before pulling away. “It’s not that. I just—”

He hesitated.

Your chest tightened. Nothing good ever came from I just .

“I have to tell you something.” Or that, in your case.

“Okay,” you said cautiously, pulling back fully now, your hands dropping from his shoulders to your lap, fingers twitching nervously. “What is it?”

He swallowed hard, exhaling through his nose, like he was bracing himself. “This has been… everything.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears. Where was this going? Was he about to tell you that this was a mistake? That he didn’t feel the same way? Your stomach churned, your eyes already stinging with unshed tears.

“Please don’t tell me you already have a partner,” you whisper, kind of trying to laugh it off but it came out weaker than you intended. “Don’t do that to me, Whisky.”

He froze for a second, his entire body going rigid before he quickly shook his head. “No. No, nothing like that. I promise.” His hands found your face again, cradling it gently, as if you were something fragile about to shatter. “I would never do that to you.”

A relieved sigh escaped your lips, a nervous chuckle following as you wiped away a stray tear. “Okay, that makes me feel a lot better. But… what is it, then?”

His lips parted, another breath drawn in deep.

“I’m not—”

A sharp, shrill siren cut through the air like a viroblade.

You both froze.

Fox’s comm buzzed immediately, and he tore his gaze from you to glance at the message flashing across the screen. His jaw tightened, his eyes widening.

“I have to go,” he said suddenly, urgency in his tone.

Your mind reeled, still spinning from everything that had just happened. “Wait—what? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know yet,” Then, to your surprise, he moved fast—gripping your waist and easing you down onto the grass as he hovered over you, preparing to go.

Your head spun. “Whisky—”

“I’ll tell you,” he said quickly, eyes flickering with something heavy, something tormented. His hands gripped your face again gently, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. “I will tell you. Everything. I promise.”

You nodded, still dazed, still trying to process everything.

He hesitated, cursing under his breath before leaning down, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to your cheek. “Do you know your way back out of here?”

You barely nodded, still caught in the whirlwind of everything that was transpiring.

He stands to his full height, his body already shifting into something sharp, something ready for action. You barely had time to sit up before he answered a quick transmission and took off running, disappearing before you could see or hear what was being said.

You exhaled shakily, flopping back against the soft grass, staring up at the sky.

What had he been about to tell you?

And what the hell had just happened that made him run off so fast?

A bitter taste settled on your tongue.

There were too many questions.

And for the first time, you weren’t sure if you wanted the answers.

Part One - 79's

Part Two - Reflection

Part Three - Sniffed Out

Part Four - Dreams

Part Five - I’ll Take My Whisky Neat

Part Six - Escape

Part Seven - The Truth

Or read on AO3 here for more parts ♥️

Tags: @forcesavetheclones @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri i @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone e @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel @stellarbit @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @greaser-wolf @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @the-bad-batch-baroness @dreamie411 @griffedeloup @501st104th212th99s @clonecyare88 @namechange-mykidfoundmyblog @mitth-eli-vanto @cloneflo99

[erellenora]

Liar Liar (Part 4/?)

🫧 Part Four - Meadow // <<< Part Three

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female Reader

🫧 word count: 3k

🫧Chapter Summary: When you reveal a painful memory to ‘Whisky’ after opening up to him, Fox’s deceit weighs heavily on his mind.

🫧Chapter Warnings: Safe for work, flirty messages, mentions of cheating by ex partner (gender neutral pronouns used), Fox feeling guilty, female reader wearing minimal makeup.

Hound’s words played on a loop in Fox’s mind, an unrelenting echo that refused to let him rest: “You have to tell her the truth.”

And he knew it. He really did.

What he didn’t quite understand was why it so difficult to do so.

He was a straight-talking, no-nonsense kind of Commander and had always had a deep authority that oozed from his behaviour. Yet, here he was, almost paralysed at the thought of coming clean to you. Every time he tried to imagine the words, they got tangled up in his throat, choking on the fear of what your reaction might be. Kriff, he wouldn’t even blame you if you were to sock him one.

So, instead, he sat behind his desk, arms folded and brow furrowed behind his helmet as he watched you from the corner of his eye. You were focused, lost in whatever reports Thorn had burdened you with today. But he could see the slight smile on your lips, that little curve that made his heart stumble, and it tore at him because he knew exactly why you were smiling.

You were thinking about him—or rather, you were thinking about Whisky . A man who didn’t even exist.

And that was the part that drove him crazy. He was sitting right here, a few feet away, and you were smiling because of him but didn’t even realise it.

He needed to tell you the truth. Tomorrow, when you both go on that walk. He’d lay it all out, come clean, and then… well, he’d have to deal with whatever fallout came next.

From across the room, he caught sight of Hound leaning against the wall, arms crossed and a smug grin plastered on his face. The silent message was clear: Hurry up. Rip it off like a medpatch.

Yeah, he was going to have to tell you. If not, Hound said he would.

Later that night, when everyone had retreated to earn some rest, Fox sat alone at his desk, the office bathed in the dim glow of his holoscreen. He drummed his fingers against the cold metal surface, his mind churning with anxiety.

He realised then that he’d never actually told you where to meet tomorrow. Not to mention, he certainly couldn’t use his own comm link to send you a message—it’d raise too many questions.

With a sigh, he started setting up a new comm code under the name ‘Whisky.’ It was a stupid plan, really. This entire scheme was a disaster waiting to happen. But the alternative was far worse.

As the new comm link activated, Fox hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keypad. What should he say? Should he be casual? Confident? Playful? Kriff, he wasn’t used to this.

He typed out the first message: Sorry for the late message… it’s Whisky. Just wanted to make sure you knew where to meet tomorrow.

He stared at it for a moment before quickly hitting send, his heart already hammering in his chest. It was out there now. No turning back.

Setting the device down on his desk, he ran a hand through his hair, nerves prickling under his skin and then his comm link beeped, and Fox nearly jumped out of his chair. He fumbled to pick it up, his fingers suddenly clumsy.

Hey handsome, sounds good! What should I wear?

Fox’s eyes widened, his heart pounding so hard he was sure it was echoing off the durasteel walls. Handsome. You called him handsome . Again.

He felt a dopey grin stretch across his face before he could stop it, smiling like a love-sick cadet.

He paused for a moment when he heard some shuffling outside the office, his head shot up, eyes narrowing, but it was only two shinies standing outside, whispering to each other.

One nudged the other, both peeking through one of the windows as if Fox could not obviously see him. “What do you think he’s smiling at?” one asked.

“Not a clue,” the other muttered back. “Didn’t think the Commander could even smile.”

Fox’s eyes narrowed. He could hear them, the idiots. But his annoyance was short-lived.

He quickly typed out a response: Hope I didn’t wake you, beautiful. And anything will be fine, I’m sure you’d look good in anything.

He hit send before he could overthink it, then sat back, releasing a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. When you didn’t reply immediately, he busied himself with tidying up his desk, shuffling reports that didn’t need organising because you had already done it for him. But the moment his comm beeped again, he abandoned it without a second thought.

Anything? I don’t think you’d like me showing up in my birthday suit.

Fox choked on his own breath, his cheeks burning. His fingers hovered, his mind racing with a million responses before he finally settled on one: I wouldn’t say no to that.

He hit send and immediately regretted it, his eyes widening. Had he gone too far? Was that too forward? Kriff, what was wrong with him? He was a Commander of the Coruscant Guard, for kark’s sake! He wasn’t supposed to be flustered this. 

The shinies were still outside, now watching with unabashed curiosity.

“Is he… blushing?” one asked, his voice low with disbelief.

“Nah,” the other scoffed. “He must’ve eaten something bad. Can’t be what I’m thinking.”

Fox shot a glare, his mouth twisting in irritation. He’d deal with them later. Right now, his comm buzzed again, and all his attention went right back to the screen.

Let’s see how this date tomorrow goes first, hm?

He felt his chest tighten, excitement flooding him as he read the message. Date. You called it a date.

Fox leaned back in his chair, grinning like a fool as his mind wandered to tomorrow despite the twisted anxiety.

Maybe, just maybe, this might work out after all.

⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

You woke up feeling excited, a fluttery sensation in your stomach that you hadn’t felt in a long time. It had been ages since you’d ventured back into the dating pool, but there was something about Whisky that just seemed worth it.

Lying in bed, you found yourself re-reading the messages from last night, your smile widening at his flirtatious replies. It felt silly, but your heart raced at his words, especially when he called you beautiful.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you jumped into the refresher, the warm water doing little to calm your nerves. You spent far too long fussing with your hair, trying out different styles before settling on one that looked effortlessly put together. Then came the makeup—just enough to accentuate your features without overdoing it.

But the real battle was deciding what to wear. The forecast predicted mild weather, so a coat was unnecessary, but it wasn’t quite warm enough for a dress or skirt. Eventually, you settled on a nice pair of trousers and a fitted top that compliments your figure just enough. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves.

You could do this. It was just a date. A date with a guy who seemed charming, kind, and who—if his messages were anything to go by—knew exactly how to make you feel good.

The coordinates he sent led you to the lower levels of Coruscant. You hesitated at first, glancing around at the dim, bustling streets. It wasn’t exactly the most desirable location, but Whisky said he knew a nice spot, and… well, you wanted to trust him.

Standing at the rendezvous point, you double-checked the coordinates, just to be sure you were in the right place. As you looked up from the screen, you felt a light tap on your shoulder.

You turned and immediately felt a warmth spread through you. Whisky stood there, dressed in civvies, a hood pulled over his head that cast a faint shadow over his eyes, but his smile was unmistakable.

“Hey,” you greeted, your hands tucking behind your back shyly. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you,” he chuckled, his voice soft and warm. “For some reason, I woke up thinking you might not show.”

You pulled a face, shaking your head. “Definitely not! I’ve been looking forward to this.”

His smile widened, relief washing over his features. “In that case,” he extended his hand toward you, “shall we?”

Your heart did a little flip as you slipped your hand into his, his grip firm yet gentle. A warmth crept up your cheeks when he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand, his lips lingering for just a moment before he looked up at you, his eyes twinkling with playful mischief.

You walked beside him, his hand still holding yours. “So,” you began, giving him a sideways glance, “where are you taking me?”

He grinned, his hood shifting as he looked over at you. “That’s a surprise.”

You arched a brow, a teasing lilt in your voice. “A surprise, huh? Should I be worried?”

“Of course not. You can trust me.”

“Can I?” you continued playfully, “you are being pretty secretive.”

There’s a glimmer of unease in your teasing but he shakes it off quickly as he looks at you, his gaze softening. “Trust me,” he repeated, his voice lower. “I promise it’s worth it.”

There was something in his tone, a sincerity that makes your chest tighten. You squeezed his hand gently, a smile playing on your lips. “Alright, I’ll trust you… for now.”

His grin returned, brighter than before. “Good. Because I think you’re going to love it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “Well, if it’s half as charming as you, then I’m sure I will.”

Whisky’s cheeks warm. He looked away quickly, his fingers tightening around yours. “You’re a dangerous flirt, you know that?”

As you continued walking, at one point Whisky glanced at you and asked, “Did you eat or drink anything today?”

You blinked at the sudden change in topic but shook your head. “I was too excited. Barely managed to get my caf down before rushing out the door.”

His brows furrowed with concern. “You know, you won’t have any energy if you don’t eat.”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him, a little giddy that he was tentative about these types of things. “Besides, I was too busy deciding what to wear.” You gave a playful twirl, letting him get a good look. “Worth the trouble?”

His gaze lingered on you, his eyes tracing your figure before he cleared his throat, “Definitely worth it.”

After navigating a few more backstreets and climbing a series of concealed staircases, you suddenly noticed that the light was getting brighter. You hadn’t realised just how many levels you’d ascended.

When you finally stepped out, you were greeted by the most breathtaking sight. It was an open expanse, a hidden meadow perched high above the bustling cityscape. Soft, green grass dances in the gentle breeze, and delicate flowers of every colour dotted the landscape. Your jaw dropped. “I… I didn’t even know a place like this existed.”

Whisky released your hand, watching your awe-struck expression with a satisfied smirk. “Told you that you could trust me.”

You turned to him, your eyes wide with wonder. “How did you even find this place?”

“Stumbled on it during an assignment,” he explained. “Got curious, went exploring, and… well, here it was.” He hesitated, his eyes flicking away. “Technically, nobody’s supposed to be here. It’s an abandoned part of the old levels. But I figured it was too beautiful to keep to myself.”

A playful smirk danced on his lips. “Besides, I’m pretty sure we won’t get caught.”

You shook your head in disbelief, a laugh bubbling from your chest. “Breaking the rules, are we?”

He grinned, a mischievous spark in his eyes. “Only a little. Worth it, though, right?”

You looked back at the meadow, the serene beauty taking your breath away. “Yeah,” you whispered, “definitely worth it.”

His expression softened as he watched you take it all in. “I knew you’d like it.”

You turned back to him, your heart thudding in your chest. “I don’t just like it, I love it. It’s like a dream.” You say in awe. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Whisky’s smile was soft, almost shy. “You’re welcome.”

You continued walking side by side through the hidden meadow, your steps slow and leisurely as you took in the beauty around you. A gentle breeze carried the faint scent of blooming flowers. Everything about this place felt like a dream, untouched and tranquil. 

You both chatted casually, light conversations flowing easily between you. He had a knack for making you laugh, his playful remarks and teasing making you feel a type of way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As you continued walking, you spotted a lovely patch of grass beneath a tree. The ground was soft and inviting, offering the perfect place to rest and take in the stunning view. “How about there?” you suggested, pointing to the spot.

Whisky followed your gaze and nodded, “Yeah, looks good.”

You both made your way over, settling down on the grass. You stretched out your legs, leaning back on your hands as you looked out at the expanse of green, the city’s skyline just visible in the distance. It was quiet here, peaceful, like the world had paused just for the two of you.

For a while, neither of you spoke, simply taking in the view. But as you glanced over at Whisky, you noticed a distant look in his eyes, his brow furrowed ever so slightly. There was a flicker of conflict in his gaze.

“Hey, you say softly as you nudge his shoulder, “where did you go?”

His head turned slowly, his eyes locking with yours. For a moment, he looked as if he were about to speak—really speak, to spill the truth right there and then. But the words tangled on his tongue, heavy and painful. He saw you, radiant under the sun, the light catching in your eyes as you looked at him with nothing but trust. Trust he didn’t deserve.

His chest tightened, guilt clawing at him, but his voice came out steady. “I’m just happy you came today.”

Your eyes crinkled with amusement, a bright laugh escaping your lips. “And here I thought you were going to stand me up,” you teased, stretching out and letting the sun warm your face. “This place really is beautiful. You, uh, ever brought anyone else here?”

He shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him. “No, this can be our secret.”

You lay back fully, fingers threading through the grass as you hummed in approval. “Sounds good to me, Whisky.”

His heart clenched at the name. Whisky. Not Fox.

He swallowed hard, his fingers strumming anxiously against his thighs as the urge to tell you the truth built within him. But the words refused to come. Especially when you were looking at him like that, with a smile so genuine that it almost made him sick. 

“So,” his voice was rough, the weight of his guilt making it hard to speak. “Any prior dating history?”

You sat up slightly, giving him a playful look. “Ooh, getting personal now?”

His shoulders stiffened. For a second, he thought about backtracking, dismissing it as a joke. But then you smiled, plucking a wildflower from the ground and playing with its petals. “Nah, it’s alright. I don’t mind.”

You leaned back again, fingers toying with the flower as your eyes grew distant. “I’ve had maybe two or three partners before. Nothing serious, mostly ended as friends.” You hesitated, your smile faltering. “Except for one.”

His gaze softened as he watched your expression change. “What happened?”

“Oh you know, the usual. Promising a forever with each other for them to see someone behind my back for months.” The flower crushed under your palm, “kinda sucked.” You mutter, sucking in a deep breath as you avoid Whisky’s gaze. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and genuine. Without thinking, his hand reached out, resting gently on your knee. “That’s not something anyone deserves.”

You laughed, but the sound was bitter. “Yeah, well, I just wish they’d found that person when we weren’t together. Would’ve saved me a lot of heartbreak. But as long as they’re happy I guess.” 

As tears cornered the corner of your eyes, you looked away as his thumb unconsciously rubbed soothing circles against your knee. He wanted to hold you, to comfort you... but how could he? 

You quickly wiped away a stray tear, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all emotional. It’s not fair to you.”

He shook his head, “No... don’t apologise. I asked.”

You looked at him then, your eyes searching his own from beneath his hood as if you were looking for something, anything. “I guess it just made it hard for me to trust people again.”

And just like that, the world stopped.

The words hit him like a blaster bolt, sharp and merciless. He felt his heart plummet, the weight of his lies crashing down on him like a crashing ship. 

You trusted him. 

You were opening up to him, showing him the most vulnerable parts of yourself, and he was lying straight to your face.

Whilst this felt like a dream to you, it was a nightmare for him.

His hand froze on your knee, his fingers curling into the fabric of your trousers. But oblivious to the turmoil inside him, you seem to shift your emotions effortlessly. “What about you? A handsome clone like you must’ve had some admirers, right?”

He blinked, your playful tone almost pulling him out of his thoughts. He forced a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Me? I usually keep to myself.”

Your brow arched, curiosity lighting up your features. “Is that a hint?”

The warmth of your gaze makes it hard to breathe. Or was it the lies laying on his chest? “Maybe… if I wasn’t enjoying the company so much.”

“Oh yeah? Even if I was just crying over an ex?”

“Even that,” he murmured, his voice soft.

His gaze lingered on you, memorising the way the sunlight danced across your features, the way your smile lit up your face. You were perfect.

Radiant.

And so painfully trusting.

While he was a liar.

Part One - 79's

Part Two - Reflection

Part Three - Sniffed Out

Part Four - Meadow

Part Five - ????

Part Six - ????

Ongoing

Or read on AO3 here for more parts ♥️

Tags: @forcesavetheclones @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 7 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter r @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel @stellarbit @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @greaser-wolf @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @the-bad-batch-baroness @dreamie411 @griffedeloup @501st104th212th99s @clonecyare88 @namechange-mykidfoundmyblog g @mitth-eli-vanto @cloneflo99

[erellenora]

Liar Liar (Part 3/?)

🫧Part Three - Sniffed Out // <<< Part Two

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox x Female Reader

🫧 word count: 2.4k

🫧 Chapter Summary: When the opportunity arises for you to see Whisky again, you take it with both hands. But as suspicion grows amongst the Corrie Guard, Hound wants to sniff out the truth.

🫧 Warnings: Safe for work, more lying, slight angst, sad and guilty Fox.

“I need you to take this to the hangar and give it to the officer in charge when you get the chance.”

You barely heard the rest of Thorn’s sentence before your brain jumped at the opportunity laid out before you like a gift from the Maker themselves.

“I’ll do it!” you blurted out, practically leaping to your feet.

Every trooper in the room turned to stare at you. Stone and Thorn exchanged a glance, while Hound raised an eyebrow in mild amusement. From his desk, Fox, who had been focused on his holoreports, was now staring directly at you, visor unmoving.

“…Aren’t you busy here?” Thorn asked after a beat, skepticism lacing his tone.

“She can do it,” Stone cut in, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. “I’ll hold down the fort.”

“No, you won’t,” Fox said flatly.

Stone, still lounging like he owned the place, rolled his eyes and mouthed the words back in an exaggerated imitation. You bit your cheek to keep from laughing.

Thorn hesitated before ultimately shrugging and handing you the file. “Alright, knock yourself out. Just don’t disappear on us.”

You grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Commander.”

As you leave, rather eagerly and with a bounce in your step, it isn’t long after until Fox stands up and is ready to leave too.

“And where exactly are you going?” Thorn asked, arms crossing as Fox passed him.

“I’m heading to the Senate,” Fox replied smoothly.

Thorn tilted his helmet at him, unimpressed. “You haven’t received a transmission to go.”

Fox hesitated—just for a fraction of a second—before replying, “I was asked to attend yesterday by the Chancellor himself, if you must know.”

Thorn still didn’t look convinced. “Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Be my guest.” With a dramatic flourish, he gestured toward the door. “Please. Don’t let me stop you.”

Fox grumbled something under his breath before striding out, the door hissing shut behind him.

The second he was gone, Thorn turned back to the group. “Okay, what the kriff was that?”

“Not a clue,” Stone said, propping his boots up on the nearest control panel. “Though, I did hear something interesting.”

Thorn raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Stone’s smirk deepened. “Apparently, Fox apologised to her last night.”

That got everyone’s attention.

“Fox? Apologised? ” Thire repeated, skeptical.

“That’s what I heard,” Stone said with a shrug. “One of the boys saw them talking— laughing , even.” He pointed at Thorn. “And when’s the last time you saw Fox laugh?”

Thorn hummed in thought, but before he could answer, Hound, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke up.

“I think they’re seeing each other.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

Stone burst out laughing. “Oh yeah? Does she know that? ”

Thire snorted, shaking his head. “Come on, Hound, you really think Fox of all people is sneaking around with someone?”

Hound crossed his arms. “I’m just saying—she was acting giddy all morning, went out of her way to keep his caf warm, and now she’s jumping at the chance to head to the hangar the second an opportunity presents itself.”

“She’d do that for any of us,” Thorn pointed out. “She’s always been that way.”

“Alright, maybe,” Hound admitted. “But isn’t it weird how she leaves, and then he just happens to leave right after?”

“Maybe he actually was called to the Senate,” Thire offered.

Hound shook his head. “Fox never leaves without a direct transmission. And he sure as hell doesn’t look that flustered unless something’s up.”

Stone, still grinning, gave a lazy shrug. “Or maybe he’s just finally losing it. Wouldn’t be surprising.”

“Wouldn’t be surprising if you lost it,” Hound shot back, pointing at him. “Still waiting on Fox to apologise for blaming Grizzer when you were the one who stole from the ration box.”

Stone gasped, feigning offense. “I would never —”

Thorn sighed, rubbing his temples. “Alright, enough. Can we please get back to work?”

Hound stood, stretching out his arms before securing his helmet. “Not me. I’m taking Grizzer for a walk.”

Thorn barely had time to argue before Hound was already heading for the door, leaving only Stone and Thire behind.

Thorn looked between them, unimpressed. “Can I expect either of you to actually do something useful?”

Stone just grinned. “Define useful .”

⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

You dropped off the document for Thorn and lingered around, your eyes scanning the corridors and stations absentmindedly. You’d expected to run into Whisky by now—at least, that’s what you told yourself. But after a few minutes, you started to wonder if perhaps he was stationed somewhere else today.

Just as you turned toward to leave, a voice called out your name.

You whipped around, and there he was. Whisky.

He jogged toward you, a mechanic helmet perched on top of his head, adorned in a set of mechanic gear. His breathing was heavy, as if he had just sprinted across the entire base. You couldn’t help but smile as your heart fluttered in your chest.

He was a little out of breath as he came to a stop in front of you, still catching his breath.

"Hi," you say almost breathlessly, suddenly reminded of just how handsome he looks up close. You take a quick breath to steady yourself. "You okay? You look like you just ran a marathon."

Whisky chuckles, catching his breath. "Yeah, something like that. Just had to get away from some...work. Nothing major." He waves it off with a casual shrug.

"So, you alright?" He asks, his eyes flickering over you before quickly darting around, as though he’s checking for someone.

You notice his unease and a wave of guilt washes over you. "Sorry, I... I can leave if you're busy," you offer, feeling like you might have interrupted something or perhaps read the other night's conversation wrong.

Whisky’s eyes widen for a moment as he realises how his actions might've appeared. "What? No! Sorry, I just don’t want my boss to catch me slacking off." He looks around quickly, spotting an empty room nearby. "Come with me."

A jitter of excitement stirs in you as he takes your hand, the warmth of his fingers sending a shiver up your spine. He pulls you into the room, and the door hisses shut behind you both. Whisky relaxes visibly once inside, letting out a breath as he flashes you a wide grin. "There, that's better."

"I was running an errand for Commander Thorn," you begin, trying to sound casual. "Dropped off a file and figured I'd see if I could run into you—guess I got lucky." You leave out the part where you were hoping to see him, though your smile betrays you.

Whisky grins, his eyes softening as they settle on you. "Well, I’m glad you did," he says, his voice low. "Because, honestly... I was hoping to see you again."

You blink in surprise, your heart skipping a beat. "You were?"

"Yeah," he chuckles, stepping a little closer. "You left quite the impression on me."

Your breath catches in your throat, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. The moment feels charged, and you notice him reaching out, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face. The touch is soft, intimate. His fingers linger a little longer than necessary but you really didn’t mind.

"So, what's been going on with you?" he asks after a moment, his voice quieter now, almost as if he’s asking something more personal.

You pause, wondering how much to share, but decide to be honest. "Funny thing... Fox, uh, Commander Fox, actually apologised to me today." You chew on your bottom lip, the memory of the interaction still fresh. "He was acting so strange, though... you didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?"

Whisky smirks, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "What makes you think I did?"

“Just because I told you he was quite a hard arse on me and then the next day he was all apologetic.” You explain. “But I don’t know, just a coincidence, no?”

He looks away for a moment as if considering it. "Well, maybe he's just starting to realise how important you are."

You hum in contemplation, considering his words but not fully convinced. "I don’t know about that, but... it was nice of him, I guess."

Whisky steps a little closer, his voice turning more playful. "Well, maybe he's just waking up to the fact that he’s lucky to have someone like you around." He pauses, a teasing lilt to his voice. "But enough about Fox. We were talking about you and what we should do.”

Your heart flutters again at his words, and you can’t help but chuckle. "Oh, really? And what exactly were you planning to do with me?"

A mischievous gleam appears in his eyes. "How about a walk? I know this really nice spot, and I think you'd like it."

You raise an eyebrow, teasing him right back. "A nice spot? Is that so?"

"Yeah," Whisky says with a sly grin, "It’s quiet, beautiful... just the right place for a little... conversation."

The flirtation in the air is undeniable and you could feel yourself getting hotter by the second. "Well, that sounds interesting. When are you free?"

"Two days from now.”

“That’s convenient because I am too! Unless a certain Commander needs me to hold down the fort.” You roll your eyes but excitement builds in you. Was this a date?

Before you can respond, your comm link buzzes in your pocket. You sigh, pulling it out. "Looks like I’m needed back at my station."

"Guess I’ll let you go then." He steps back, giving you space as you turn to leave. "I’ll be looking forward to that walk."

You flash him one last smile as you make your way to the door. "Me too." The door hisses open, and you glance back one last time, catching him watching you with that same warm smile.

Fox lets out a sigh of relief as the door hisses shut behind you, the tension easing from his shoulders. But the relief is short-lived as a smile tugs at his lips, the memory of your laughter and the way your eyes lit up lingering in his mind. He’d just managed to secure more time alone with you, and the anticipation was already thrumming in his chest. Yet, a pang of guilt crept in, twisting his stomach.

Fox ran a hand down his face, groaning softly. “Kriff, what am I doing?” he muttered.

He should tell you the truth, come clean before this went any further. But the thought of you looking at him differently, of that brightness in your eyes dimming… He hesitated, leaning heavily against the desk behind him. “I’ll sort it out,” he promised himself. “I just need a little more time.”

As he turned to leave, the door slid open with a sharp hiss. For a brief moment, hope sparked in his chest thinking you had come back. But the hope shattered instantly when his eyes landed on Hound, who stood in the doorway, arms folded and a smug grin plastered on his face.

“Well, well… Nice new gear, Commander. Got a new job you didn’t tell us about?” Sarcasm dripped from every word, and Fox felt his blood run cold.

He opened his mouth to explain, but nothing came out. He must have looked like a cadet caught sneaking out after curfew because Hound’s grin only widened.

“I mean, I always thought you could use a break from all that work, but I didn’t think you’d go full-time mechanic,” Hound continued, his voice teasing but laced with curiosity. Then, his expression softened, and he clapped a hand on Fox’s shoulder. “Look, if you and her are seeing each other, your secret’s safe with me. Honestly, good for you, Fox.”

Fox’s shoulders sagged, but the relief didn’t come this time. He looked away, staring hard at the floor, his jaw clenched.

Hound’s smile faltered. “What’s up? I thought you’d be happier about this. I mean, she’s brilliant.”

Fox’s mouth felt dry, the words sticking to the back of his throat before he finally forced them out. “She doesn’t know it’s me.”

Hound blinked. “What?”

“She doesn’t know it’s me,” Fox repeated, his voice low, almost ashamed. He ran a hand through his hair, the weight of his own words settling heavily in his chest. “She thinks I’m just a mechanic.”

Hound’s mouth fell open, and he looked at Fox as if he’d just grown a second head. “How? She has eyes, doesn’t she?”

Fox let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. It all started at 79’s.”

He closed his eyes, the memory flooding back.

He remembered sitting alone at the bar, nursing a drink after you had told him the boys wanted him to come out and let loose for one. And despite attending, he still found himself wanting to be alone and just trying to forget the chaos of that week. But then he’d heard your voice, laughing and teasing your friend. It was the first time he’d heard you laugh, really laugh, and it made his chest feel tight. He’d watched you from the corner of his eye, the way your face lit up, how animated you were as you spoke.

Then, you’d looked at him, just a passing glance, but it was enough to knock the wind out of him. He looked away quickly, feeling weird for staring. But he couldn’t help himself, stealing glances whenever he thought you weren’t looking.

“I thought she knew who I was,” Fox admitted, his voice rough. “But she didn’t. She didn’t recognise me. And… I just went along with it. I didn’t think it would go this far.”

Hound’s face softened, his arms unfolding as he leaned back against the doorframe. “Fox, what the hell did you get yourself into?”

Fox ran a hand down his face again, the weight of his lie pressing down on him. “I don’t know. I can’t get out of it. I just keep digging myself deeper. She’s… she’s got this way of looking at me, like I’m someone worth knowing.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the air thick with Fox’s confession. He looked up at Hound, his expression conflicted. “I really messed up, didn’t I?”

Hound let out a slow breath. “Yeah, you did.”

Part One - 79's

Part Two - Reflection

Part Three - Sniffed Out

Part Four - Dreams and Nightmares

Or read on AO3 here for more parts

please reblog to support your content creators ♥️

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @tentakelspektakel @stellarbit @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @the-bad-batch-baroness @dreamie411 @griffedeloup @501st104th212th99s @clonecyare88 @namechange-mykidfoundmyblog @mitth-eli-vanto @cloneflo99