#CC-1010-Commander Fox x F Reader

[sleepingsun501]

Sweet True Lies: Chapter 3

Two Truths and a Lie

Paring(s): Fox x OC: Keeda Ionza (FINALLY!)

Characters: F!Reader/OC: Keeda Ionza, OC: June Makano, Commander Fox, Commander Thorn

Summary: Gala time!

Rating: This chapter is G (series is rated E)

Warnings: Light Angst, Fluff, Romantic Fluff

Word Count: 7.2k

Ao3 link

A/N: Hello and welcome to chapter 3! Sorry it took so long to write, but hopefully, it will all be worth it!

There is another new OC I'm bringing into this fic. Her name is June Makano. Check her out here!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

Two Truths and a Lie

You gasped as you jerked yourself awake, looking around and briefly wondering where you were. You’re in your old room. Relax. You’re okay. you told yourself as you got your bearings.

An annoyed meow came from the black-striped lump of tan fur next to your feet as you reached over and grabbed the remote on your nightstand, reducing the dark opaque tint of your windows to let in the morning light. “Sorry, Chuffs,” you apologized to your mother’s lazy tooka cat.

You squeezed your eyes shut against the harsh light bouncing off Coruscant's surface, and nestled yourself back into your cloudy pillows, not quite ready to leave the warmth of your large bed. Chuffs stood up briefly and stretched languidly as the light reached her, giving you a curious look before settling back down in her warm spot with a purr.

Scrunching your fingers through your tangled hair as you took in the morning, your thoughts wandered back to the dream you had been having. It had not been unpleasant—quite the opposite: Someone’s strong arms had pulled you close with whispers of reassurance and safety, enveloping you with so much warmth you could have melted into them.

You mused over it for a moment, twisting a bit to look at your upper arm and wondering why you had such a comforting dream after such a tumultuous night. As you prodded the bruise-free skin to check for any residual soreness, you figured a nightmare would have been more fitting, but none had come.

“Good morning, Mistress Keeda,” N2’s soft, high-pitched, mechanical voice said as he entered your room. He was holding a breakfast tray laden with what looked like muffins, scrambled nuna eggs, sliced shuura fruit, and your favorite tea.

You stretched and yawned before sitting up, realizing absently that you had slept a lot further into the morning than you normally did. “Morning, N2. What’s all this?” you asked, untangling yourself from your blankets and trying not to disturb Chuffs a second time.

“Oh, Mistress Sareel was insistent that you have something to eat before you leave,” N2 replied.

You rubbed your eyes groggily as N2 set the meal down on the bed beside you. Your stomach rumbled loudly as you smelled the fresh, berry-laden muffins and fluffy eggs, remembering how little you had eaten the night before.

Sipping your steaming tea and nibbling a muffin, you pulled your datapad into your lap and skimmed the news as you did every morning. Articles of the army’s latest victories and defeats rerouting trade and travel hyperspace lanes littered your screen, but you found your mind wandering back to your dream. It was fading quickly as you fully woke, but the sense of security of those imaginary arms around you had greatly lessened your anxiety.

“Is there anything you require before I begin the household chores, Mistress Keeda?” N2 asked, carrying your hamper from your bathroom.

“No, thank you, N2. You have done plenty for me already,” you replied, giving the droid a smile. You knew N2 could not actually feel emotions—he was simply programmed to respond—but you had always been polite to him.

As you began eating your breakfast, you sent a quick text comm to June, telling her you would be stopping by to check on the flowers, and you also took the opportunity to recount the details of your previous evening to her. You knew she was working, and therefore could not call you, but you received several long replies full of enraged expletives and exclamations anyway. June had always been hotheaded, but she would have blown off a lot of that steam by the time you arrived if you did not rush.

You took your time in eating and dressing, savoring the morning for once, and sinking back into your thoughts. Nothing about the war had slowed down the charity foundation’s work, but it had physically condensed it to Core Worlds as new battle maps were drawn every day in the Mid and Outer Rims. The charity had also been forced to cut its ties with Separatist worlds, though you knew some of the outposts on those worlds had continued to function without proper funds, manned now only by the very people they had been constructed to help.

With the organization now officially partnering with the GAR, however, the work could continue on Loyalist worlds outside of the Core. You had already received the information about the battalion you would be attached to for the foreseeable future, and you sincerely hoped the clones would accept working with you. Deep down, you had been a little worried they would always see you as an outsider.

An hour later found you stepping out of a taxi and onto a wide, sunny pedestrian walkway. The air was still chilly, but the sun managed to take the bite of the wind away. A long, tall greenhouse stretched down the length of the block before you, made entirely of glass walls and windows—just one of ten identical buildings laid out parallel to each other. A much smaller, older structure sat at the end of the first building, with a glowing sign projected onto the ancient-looking brick that read ‘Makano Greenhouses,’ and you made your way to the door.

The air inside the main shop was warm and damp, and it was like stepping into an entirely different world. The fresh scents of thousands of varieties of flowers, vegetables, fruits, and shrubbery the Makano family had grown for nearly two centuries in their greenhouses all wafted to greet you, spiriting you away from the ecological barrenness of Coruscant. You suspected the shuura fruit you had eaten for breakfast had come from these greenhouses.

Inhaling the perfumy fragrances deeply, you pressed the service button on the front desk, taking the time to admire all the glittering vases, fruit baskets, and pre-arranged flower displays already up for sale.

“Be there in a second, Keeds,” a light feminine voice said, echoing through a speaker. True to her word, a few moments later, a curvy young woman with bright ginger hair and equally bright hazel eyes came jogging in through the shop’s back door. “Fucking hell, girl,” she greeted in typical June fashion, wiping her hands on a rag and pulling you into a tight hug. “You nearly gave me a heart attack this morning with your message. How’re you holding up?”

“Hi, June,” you replied. You hugged her back, glad to see her initial, explosive temper had cooled already. “I’m coping, could’ve been worse,” you added dismissively. The residual anxiety must have still been shining through your expression because June cocked a disbelieving, fiery eyebrow at you.

June Makano was the latest generational owner of her family’s greenhouses and your best friend from your time at university. Although the greenhouses were an incredibly lucrative business over the centuries—being one of the last few remaining places on-world providing food and décor to Coruscant’s upper classes—the Makano family had used them as a cover for less legitimate business for just as long.

Despite your knowledge of this, June had become like a sister to you over the years. It still baffled you to no end how she was always able to know exactly how you felt, reading you like an open book. The way she pursed her lips at you was another classic indicator that she knew you were still not all right, so you huffed out a tired breath and rested against the counter, ignoring it.

“I’m not gonna make you talk about it,” June said quietly, “but you know I’m here if you need to.” She rubbed your arm affectionately, and the gesture warmed you. “You know I can still get Naiyo to deal with him, too, right?”

You chuckled dryly and rolled your eyes. “No, thanks. I don’t want your rum-running twin brother and his gangsters getting themselves into any trouble on my account.”

“The offer stands,” June said in a singsong voice, effectively dropping the subject. “Now, come on, let me show you the flowers for tomorrow.”

June led you through the back door and past the greenhouses to an enormous workshop. It looked equally as ancient as the main shop with all its exposed brick and dark steel rafters. Specialized droids hovered about, arranging several varieties of colorful flowers into garlands, bouquets, and centerpieces for the gala. You recognized some of the larger flower varieties, but there were also tiny, shining white blossoms on wiry vines mixed into the bouquets that were unfamiliar.

“Let your mum know the arrangements will be delivered this afternoon, and I’ll be there personally tonight to make sure they’re set up properly,” June said, taking a bundle of the blossoms and handing them to you. “These would look really pretty in your hair tomorrow.”

The little flowers gave off a delicate, but musky sweet scent, unlike anything you had smelled before. “What are these?” you asked curiously. They were surprisingly resilient, despite being so small.

“They’re a variety of peace blossoms from Naboo,” June explained, lifting the end of a garland into a transport crate. “Your mum asked for those particularly, so I had to use the hydroponic systems and pure light to get them to grow faster. She said it was to represent a quick end to the war with the help of all the relief volunteers.”

“Trust my mum to weave poetic symbolism into everything,” you mumbled, tilting the little flowers in your palm. Their sheen reflected a faint bluish-green hue beneath the milky petals. You heard June pause her work, and from her tone, you could tell she was worried. “You still don’t think I should have volunteered?”

June sighed and shook her shoulder-length orange hair out of its clip to readjust it. “I just don’t want you to get hurt or anything. Just because you’re only going on relief missions doesn’t mean it’s safe, Keeds. You could be attacked at any time.”

“You sound like my mum,” you muttered sardonically. You knew June meant well, but even she knew you had been screaming internally for months from being cooped up on Coruscant. “I’ll be with the troops the whole time. They’ll keep any droids out of my way, and I’m a decent shot myself,” you smirked.

June gave you a reproachful look, but she clipped her hair back up and shrugged. “Just… be careful. You’re my best friend.”

“I know, but you know exactly how badly I need to get off this kriffing planet. I need some fresh air, quite literally a different atmosphere. It’s beautiful here, in its own way, and it’ll always be home, but I need some change.” You stepped a bit closer and lowered your voice a notch, shaking your head, “And you were right before, June. I’m not entirely fine, especially after last night. Getting away right now is the best thing I can do.”

You could tell June was holding back her tears from the way she looked around rapidly and started chewing on her plump, pink bottom lip, so you pulled her into a more solid hug this time, aware that this may be the last chance you got before you shipped out after the gala. “I promise, I’ll be fine. When I get back, I’ll tell you all about it over caf at that greasy little diner you like so much.”

June chuckled, letting a tear escape as she embraced you tightly. “Hey, don’t shit on Dex’s. He’s got the best nerfburgers ever, just admit it.”

You parted afterward with a smile and a quick goodbye, leaving the greenhouses with the peace blossoms in hand. As you glanced down at them, you realized your nails could do with a manicure. Begrudgingly, you knew you needed to polish yourself up. Time to turn into a lady.

***

Tucking his towel around his hips, Fox wiped the steam from his mirror and pulled his razor out from his refresher cabinet. Two of the few benefits of being a Marshal Commander permanently stationed on Triple Zero were private quarters and access to hot water showers. It hardly made up for the multitudes of other issues he dealt with on a daily basis, but it was far better than the communal sonic showers his millions of brothers were forced to use in the field and on starships.

He wished he did not have to shave so soon, rather liking the way his slightly greying stubble always set him apart from his brothers, but he had no choice. He had to be as presentable as possible for the gala in a few hours, and he mentally cursed whichever senator had taken Thire from his post.

Fox resented the way many senators seemed to think the Corries were their personal bodyguards instead of elite clone shock troopers. The boys were constantly called upon, day and night, to escort senators and other public officials to wherever they wanted to go, regardless of the security details they were already provided. Even their underpaid aides were not called upon as often as the Corries were for menial tasks—the moment a senator needed to travel off-world or needed a kriffing lightbulb changed, they rang a Guardsman.

Pushing his dripping curls away from his face, Fox slathered his cheeks and jaw in shaving cream and began methodically scraping away his stubble, careful not to nick himself. He had finally managed to get a few hours of solid sleep after a brutally exhausting workout, and he had taken Thorn’s advice about dabbing some bacta under his eyes. He somehow looked a bit younger as his skin became smooth, and it reminded him of how young he technically was. Physically, he was only about twenty-five now, even if he felt like he was nearly a hundred most days.

Fox carefully eased a clean undershirt over his head, careful not to muss his freshly faded curls that he had slicked back into smooth waves. The ever-present greys in his once jet-black hair had ceased to bother him, especially because they seemed to be a date magnet on the incredibly rare occasions he took to venture out to 79s with his brothers.

He smiled to himself as he pulled on his dress greys, fondly remembering the night Cody and Wolffe had dragged him to the bar with every intention of getting him laid. They had no idea their youngest brother had spent the past year carefully observing the very politicians he loathed, watching their formal, charming interactions and quietly putting them into practice. He had a date within twenty minutes that night, and Cody and Wolffe’s jaws had been on the deck.

Part of his charm, he had learned, came with his expression of intention. Fox had never once led anyone on, making sure an unattached night was all a lady was to expect from him. It was not that he wanted to sleep around or that he did not have feelings, but he knew he had no time for a committed relationship—even if it never stopped him from wondering how nice one would be.

Fox rolled his muscular shoulders in the stiff, heavy fabric of his dress uniform and checked his appearance over one last time. Just another big fancy dinner. he thought to himself, tucking his cover under his arm and echoing Thorn’s words from a few days prior.

***

“You’re fidgeting,” your mother whispered concernedly as you exited the speeder after her.

You gnawed at the inside of your cheek as you looked around. The poshly dressed guests were arriving in droves, greeting each other with both genuine and faux smiles, la bise kisses, and graceful bows. As the gala’s unofficial host, you started to feel the pressure as eyes were beginning to turn toward you. The sickening clench of your stomach was hard to ignore as you slapped a practiced smile on your face. Silently, you resigned yourself to participating in high-class society, and you were sure the gooseflesh breaking out over your skin had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

“Just nerves,” you muttered, shivering slightly, and smoothing out your flowing dark green dress. You were glad you had chosen something with a loose skirt that you could both walk and breathe in as the latter felt rather difficult. Beneath your long hair, you felt your mother’s silk-gloved hand subtly adjust one of the X-crossed straps on your backless gown for you before looping your arm in hers.

“You’ve nothing to worry about tonight, darling. Just try to relax and enjoy yourself,” she said soothingly, ushering you inside and out of the chilly air.

As you made your way closer to the grand doors of the hall, you spied a few clones in their distinct red and white armor cleverly stationed in the shadows, and your nerves calmed a bit. Whereas many of Coruscant’s citizens had come to loathe the ever-present shock troopers, you found their presence to be a comfort, more so now than ever before. You wondered if the commander was among them, but before you could dwell on the thought, your mother was pulling you into the venue.

Her hand soothed along your bare forearm as you made your way into the dazzling hall, and the sight took your breath away. The hall was massive, and the cavernous, arching glass ceiling reflected thousands of fairy lights woven into the garlands and wreaths June had no doubt spent hours setting up.

The air was fragrant from the same little peace blossoms that were nestled in your fashionably twisted hair, and as the only source of light apart from delicate flickering candles on the dining tables, the tiny, softly twinkling lights created a calm ambiance that seemed to warm even the darkest corners of the hall. While you looked around, you noticed a familiar, friendly face illuminated by the glow.

“Oh, my dear, Keeda,” Henya greeted compassionately, coming around a large, ornately set dining table, and taking you into her arms.

You grinned happily for the first time that evening as the tall Twi’lek woman embraced you, and the soft fur of her shawl tickled your nose. “Hello, Auntie,” you replied.

“You look divine tonight. That dress does wonders for your eyes,” she complimented, but Henya’s striking yellow eyes held a trace of guilt as she pulled away. “May I steal her for a moment, Sareel?” she asked, turning to your mother.

“Of course, of course. I will find you later, Keeda,” your mother replied, giving you a quick peck on the cheek.

As your mother began graciously receiving the other guests, Henya took your hands in both of hers, and you could practically feel the emotion rippling off her. Even her long violet lekku were twitching restlessly as she searched for her words.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, Auntie,” you said before she could speak. “What happened the other night, that’s not your fault.”

Henya sighed heavily, “I am still terribly sorry, my dear. You shouldn’t have had to endure that.” She paused for a moment, looking around before her eyes settled on a rather severe-looking couple taking flutes of dark blue, bubbling wine from a passing server. “I’m even more sorry to say that they would like to speak with you before the evening’s festivities begin.”

The pit in your stomach immediately gave way to a dull numbness that flooded through your limbs. The governor and his wife had come after all, but you were thankful there seemed to be no sign of their son. You breathed deeply, unlocked your knees, and felt your head clear. Might as well get this unpleasantry out of the way.

Striding forward with purpose, your father’s voice whispered in the back of your mind; Opportunity lies in even the most unlikely places. When he had spoken those words to you so long ago, you had not fully understood their meaning. But now, as Henya led you across the room, your sharp mind understood that the governor was about to ask something of you.

“Governor and Missus Gargeli, may I present Miss Keeda Ionza,” Henya said diplomatically.

While Governor Gargeli might have looked unyielding on the outside, his blue eyes were benevolent. His son had clearly inherited his looks from his father, but you refused to let it unnerve you.

“Miss Ionza, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said authentically as he extended his hand to you.

“The pleasure is mine, Governor.” You shook his hand firmly, conveying your directness.

“It is an esteemed honor to be invited this evening,” he remarked, releasing you to allow you to shake hands with his wife. “Although, I do wish the circumstances of our meeting would have been less precarious,” Gargeli added softly and opened his arm to you. “May I?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you were passed to yet another arm. Did people think you were unable to walk on your own? Despite being on his arm, you steered the governor to a quieter corner of the hall. You waited until you were sure the sharp click of your heels on the tiles was no longer audible to the other guests before pausing beside one of the massive bouquets that matched your hair.

The governor, for all his formal appearance, looked ashamed. “I want you to know that my wife and I do not condone our son’s actions,” Gargeli whispered gravely. “Pettri was brought up to be better than that, and I sincerely apologize for any harm that has befallen you.”

Pettri Gargeli. you finally remembered. That was that fucker’s name.

The governor’s Coruscanti accent was much thicker than your own, and you had to strain a bit to hear him over the growing hum of the other guests and the gentle classical music that was beginning to play. He had your full attention as he continued, “I also wanted to inform you personally that Pettri is no longer living on Coruscant, and he will not be returning. I’ve sent him back to my family’s homeworld, and he will be dealt with in a manner befitting his actions.”

You hid your relief well, only shifting your weight from one hip to the other as you took in the revelation, still surveying the incoming guests nonchalantly. You had been silently dreading seeing Pettri again, even in passing, and the weight of that fear dissipated from your shoulders. “I am grateful for the measures you have taken in resolving the situation, Governor.”

Gargeli tapped a finger on his glass rather anxiously as he scanned the room blankly. “I’m afraid I do have another motive for speaking to you privately this evening, Miss Ionza,” he confessed. He swiftly acquired another flute of bubbling blue wine from a passing attendant and handed it to you as a gesture.

Here we go. you thought, accepting the drink to let him know you were listening, and bracing yourself for his request. You already had an inkling of what it was.

“As you may know, the local elections in my district are not far off.” He paused to clear his throat to emphasize the point he was about to make. “If… rumor was to spread, a scandal such as this involving a member of my immediate family would potentially—”

“—Potentially negatively impact your reelection,” you interrupted gracefully, finally meeting the governor’s eyes again. Although the smile you wore was practiced and demure, your green eyes conveyed your perceptivity. “And if I were to guarantee my silence on the matter, perhaps our agreement could be mutually beneficial.”

An intrigued look crossed Gargeli’s aristocratic face, his thick mustache twitching up in interest. “Name your terms, Miss Ionza.”

Taking a long sip from your glass, you glanced back out across the room trying to look as casual as possible. “The Terreg Ionza Medical Foundation could do more work in your district if you would consider opening more public spaces to our volunteers and providing security,” you said lowly, your throat tightening a fraction as your father’s name passed your lips. “In the past, our volunteers have encountered significant resistance in underprivileged areas, largely due to threats of local gang violence. Not only would it guarantee my silence, but it would also benefit your constituents.”

The governor nodded pensively. “I assure you my campaign already supports the increased street surveillance in my district. I see the Coruscant Guard are here tonight,” he added as he skimmed over the room. “They have been immensely helpful in training new security forces, so any volunteers would be well protected. Perhaps my wife and I will become more regular contributors to the Foundation as well, to ensure their success.”

A wave of triumph surged through your heart as you raised your wine flute in a small toast. Despite how much you hated playing politics, you were rather reluctantly good at it. “To the mutually beneficial work of our organizations.”

“Hear, hear,” Gargeli replied, a formal smile full of admiration and respect for you working its way onto his face.

With a clink of your glasses, the deal was sealed. Gargeli would open his district more fully to the charity’s work, thousands of citizens would benefit from increased medical aid, and the charity would receive yet another new source of funds. All paid for with your silence.

“Please, Governor, enjoy the evening,” you said with a gentle, sweeping motion, effectively excusing yourself.

Gargeli gave you a refined bow before returning to his wife’s side, and you began mingling your way through the crowd. Several people whom you had worked with in the past stopped to chat with you, each offering their views on the latest cooperations with the GAR. Some approved, some did not, and some expressed their admiration for your willingness to volunteer, but each conversation seemed to draw on your energy reserves.

Even after dinner had been served—you were eternally grateful your mother had not chosen that awful seafood dish to be an option—and the dancing had begun, you were finding the evening to be rather tedious. You did your best to conceal it; however, there was only so much you could take.

Over the sounds of clinking glasses and light laughter filling the air, blending with the lilting music now echoing across the hall, you huffed out a weary sigh. You wished you had someone other than politicians and socialites to converse with—just someone who did not want anything from you. From the moment you stepped out of the speeder, tonight had felt more like work than the enjoyable evening you hoped for.

***

Fox froze and his heart stuttered against his ribs.

He knew from the moment he saw her; it was her. His eyes followed her every move as she wove between people, conversing briefly before moving on. They all parted for her, as though she were a goddess among mortals—even more beautiful than he remembered.

“The hell are you looking at, vod?” Thorn asked, noting Fox’s sudden change. His older brother’s heavy brows were nearly knit together, and his scarred lips were parted in an awestruck expression. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Blinking out of his stupor, Fox nodded in the young woman’s direction. “She’s here,” he whispered, almost disbelieving his own words.

Thorn studied the crowd from their secluded spot by the doorway to a large, covered veranda, trying to follow Fox’s eye line. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“From th-the other night. She’s… uh… Long, dark hair, with little flowers. Green dress. It’s her,” Fox stammered.

His golden-haired brother looked back out to the crowd a second time, spotting her easily. “Oh, wow,” Thorn breathed. He knew Fox had not lied about her appearance a few days prior, but seeing her for himself, Thorn finally understood why Fox had been so taken with her. He snickered to himself because the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard was currently staring like a love-struck shiny after their first night at 79s. “That’s really her?”

Fox just nodded. He could not look away. She wore a perfect, congenial smile like a mask and carried herself with the grace of a queen, but her closed-off, stiff body language made Fox want to throw himself between her and the rest of the room—if only to shield her again for a moment so she could breathe.

“Well, go talk to her, di’kut!” Thorn laughed, nudging his ori’vod with a sharp elbow. “She looks like she could use better company than these nat-borns.” Fox opened his mouth to protest, but Thorn stopped him. “Go. You’d be shocked to know the boys and I can actually survive without your constant vigilance for a while.”

Seeing her step out another door on the opposite side of the hall and onto the wrap-around veranda, Fox nearly sprinted out the door beside him—no thanks to a playful swat on the ass from Thorn. It felt like his heart was about to jump through his nose as he quickly strode to where she had withdrawn.

Okay… okay… What am I gonna say to her? he rambled internally. Just ask her how she is, yeah? Ask her if she’s all right. No, why would she be all right? It’s only been a few days since… No, no, just tell her… tell her she looks nice. She’d like to hear that. Right? Fuck. Fuck, I did not think this through! Nevertheless, his feet propelled him forward.

Fox had never had any issues talking to women before, so why was he so unexpectedly flustered now? He paused and pressed his back against the cool alabaster wall just before turning the final corner of the building. He straightened his spotless uniform and blew out a long sigh, puffing his cheeks. Pull yourself together, Fox. You’re a kriffing Marshal Commander. You can do this.

***

The muffled silence was a welcome relief as you stepped out of the hall and rested your hands against the sleek railing. The crowds had begun gathering around to watch those waltzing about on the dance floor, and the stronger liquor had begun flowing as a medley of desserts was served, but you had come outside to let Coruscant’s skyline dazzle you for the thousandth time instead.

Letting your eyes drift shut, you tried to savor the quiet moment, and soaked up the soft warmth radiating from the outdoor heater beside you. You could still see the twinkling fairy lights all around you from behind your eyelids, and you watched as they played across your blinded vision. If you had a chaise and a blanket, you would have been content to stay right there until the sun rose.

Tomorrow, there would be no skyline. There would only be the swirling blue and silver streaks of hyperspace, whisking you off to a war-torn world to deliver medical relief supplies, and you were eager for it. Like you had told June, Coruscant would always be home, but you needed to get away for a while.

Your moment was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps that ceased a few yards behind you and to your left. You half expected to find yet another aristocrat asking you to dance when you opened your eyes, but you were shocked to your very core when you looked over your shoulder.

Him. It was him. The clone commander that had come to your aid.

You felt your eyes widen in surprise as he looked at you. He was clean-shaven now, and his tussled, greying curls had been elegantly styled back, but his honey-gold eyes still glimmered in the lights with the same care and warmth he had shown you just a few nights ago.

“You,” you breathed without thinking. Immediately, you cursed your impropriety and stumbled over your words. “I’m s-sorry. I-I meant—”

The commander cracked a roguish, bright smile, and his mouth pulled a touch more to the right because of the scar on his bottom lip. “It’s you,” he echoed softly, stepping closer. His voice was low and gravelly, and his eyes never left yours. “You look lovely tonight.”

He was trying to put you at ease, and you could not help the little grin that broke over your painted lips. “Thank you,” you replied, and you were powerless to stop the blush creeping up your cheeks. “Truthfully, I’d rather be elsewhere, though.”

“Really?” he asked, tossing his gaze back into the hall for a moment. “Even with all these fine, upstanding people here?” There was the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice, and you instantly relaxed despite the sudden draft blowing across the veranda.

The commander came to stand beside you, blocking the breeze and looking out over the planet-wide city. Even while leaning down on the railing and without his signature armor, he was still so very tall and broad. His hard muscles filled out his uniform, pulling at the fabric and defining him perfectly. It made you wonder just how strong he was…

“Are you cold?” he asked thoughtfully.

You shook your head faintly as you were pulled out of your thoughts. You felt wholly safe beside him, as though he were an immovable wall protecting you from the chill in the air and from the prying eyes of anyone who dared to look at you the wrong way—just as he did before.

That inkling of guilt suddenly came crawling back. The last time you had seen this man, you had spoken so harshly to him, and you had feared you would never get the chance to apologize. “Commander, I… I never thanked you properly… for the other night,” you said rather sheepishly.

He gave you a slightly puzzled look and shook his head almost imperceptibly, his eyes immediately coming to rest on your face again. “There’s no need to thank me.”

“Yes, there is,” you insisted, gripping the railing. “You and your men helped me. Something much worse might’ve happened if you hadn’t been there, and I shouldn’t have been so coarse.”

“You had every right to be,” he assured. “I’m glad I was there to help you.”

You toyed with a silver ring on your index finger as you carried on, “In any case, it’s no excuse for my behavior. I hope you’ll accept my apology, Commander.”

He turned to face you fully, leaning casually on one elbow and eyeing you charmingly. “I will, on one condition.”

How can he still look so powerful when he’s relaxed like that? you asked yourself, waiting for his request. He had somehow changed the very air around you so quickly that you found yourself letting go of the ache in your chest.

“Tell me your name?”

Whatever he was doing to make you feel so calm was mesmerizing, but you could also tell he was being playful, so you decided to entertain him. You pursed your lips and gave him a cheeky grin. “All right then. Let’s see if you can tell if I’m lying or telling the truth. Have you ever played two truths and a lie?”

“Two truths and a lie?” he asked inquisitively.

You nodded, fidgeting with your ring again. “I’ll tell you three things about myself. If you guess the lie, I have to tell you the truth about the lie. If you guess wrong, it’s your turn.”

The commander cocked a brow at you and smirked. “Very well, ladies first.”

You chewed your lip for a moment in thought, before settling on your lie. “My mother is the chairwoman of the foundation hosting this gala. I had a pet tooka when I was a child. My name… is Alana. Which is the lie?”

The weight of the commander’s gaze was encapsulating. You felt drawn into the depths of those stunning eyes as he analyzed you. He left no inch of your face untouched with his gaze. “Your name isn’t Alana,” he said finally.

“You’re right,” you conceded with a giggle. “My name is Keeda.”

The commander did not say anything for a moment, but his expression noticeably softened. You were not sure he was going to say anything until he muttered a single strange word, one you suspected was not Basic.

“Sorry?” you asked.

“Mesh’la,” he repeated, a little louder the second time. “It’s Mando’a. It means ‘beautiful’.”

You were certain you were bright red with how hard you were blushing. His lips barely moved whenever he spoke, unlike so many others tonight that had tried to woo your attention with overly enunciated accents and pretty words. The true sincerity in his tone rang clear. His voice was so rich, like a lovely bass-baritone note—deep and smooth, matching the darkened gold of his irises. You could practically feel the resonance of it in your ears despite how softly his words were uttered, and you suddenly craved to hear it again.

“Y-your turn, Commander.”

He must have had his answers ready because he spoke without hesitation. “My favorite color is red. My name is Fox. I’m a particularly good dancer.”

You mulled that over. Would he lie about his name, too? you wondered. It seemed logical, but he could also have been trying to throw you off. He had never looked you in the eye at all, though, choosing to focus on the little flowers woven through your hair—undoubtedly the better liar between you.

Laughing lightly as you gave up trying to guess, you settled on his name. “I don’t think your name is Fox.”

He flashed that brilliant white smile again. It contrasted so beautifully against his bronzed skin, and for the first time, you realized that you were more dazzled by the handsome commander in front of you than the skyline you had come out to observe. His smile and eyes were even brighter than any of the lights twinkling around you, and he exuded an affection that quieted any troubles in your mind.

“My name is Fox,” he said truthfully.

“Fox,” you repeated, bowing your head in mock defeat. “You’ve bested me. Where’d you learn to lie so well?”

“You pick up a thing or two when you’re around politicians all—”

As if on cue, he was interrupted as a group of guests came out onto the veranda, laughing boisterously and talking amongst themselves. They were clearly trying to ward off the buzz they had going with the cool night air. Luckily, they wandered away to the other side of the hall, but the door they had opened let a new melody waft outside.

It was a slower tune, but just as grand and orchestral as the others that had been playing all evening. You swayed your weight from one foot to the other, feeling the skirt of your dress flutter around your legs.

It had been so long since you danced. Your thoughts wandered back to the last time your father had helped you push all the furniture out of the way and taught you the steps of several common waltzes in the middle of your living room.

“Dance with me?” Fox asked suddenly, holding out his hand to you.

When did he take his gloves off? “Another truth?” you asked, resting your hand in his palm. His hand was calloused and strong, but his fingers were long and warm as they closed around yours ever so tenderly.

The crowd had thinned a bit for the evening, and you suspected this would be one of the last dances of the night, but you were glad to share it with Fox. You gasped a little when you felt his other hand settle around your lower back beneath your hair. His fingertips felt like fire brushing against your air-cooled bare skin, but you settled into his hold easily as he began guiding you down the length of the veranda. The steps he chose were uncomplicated, but you were impressed with the natural skill he seemed to possess as he swept you down the length of the open space.

“You were definitely telling the truth,” you laughed, enjoying how easily you moved together.

He arched his left arm and twirled you out beneath it before stepping in and sweeping you back into his hold. “I have my brother to thank for that,” Fox admitted, slowing a fraction with the timing of the music.

“Don’t you have a million brothers?” you asked lightheartedly. Fox looked so different from the stoic commander you had first met. A single stray curl had fallen loose on his forehead as he spun you around himself, and he practically beamed at you.

“This one is special. He inherited all the natural dancing talent somehow, so we just copied him. He’s the commander of the 104th battalion.”

You nearly stumbled in surprise, gripping Fox’s burly shoulder for support, but he was quicker and caught you. He gathered you into a spin to let you recover, bringing your body flush to his. The rush of adrenaline you felt as Fox effortlessly lifted you right off your feet made everything a little fuzzy, but he kept you securely in his strong arms. You felt like a star could have exploded between you with the heat of your bodies pressed together, and you would have happily melted into it.

After gently resting you back on your feet, Fox was the first to break the contact—although he seemed incredibly reluctant to do so. But the music still played in the background, so he continued to lead you through the dance.

“I’m assigned to the 104th as their official volunteer,” you said quickly, remembering why you had stumbled in the first place.

Fox chuckled. “You’ll like Wolffe. We grew up together as batchmates. He’s very stubborn and gruff, but he has a good heart.”

“I look forward to meeting him.”

As the music ended, the hall burst into applause. The other dancers and guests began to say their goodbyes, but you simply stood there under the twinkling lights. You panted together from the exertion of the dance as he continued to hold you, and you drank in the woodsy, slightly spicy scent of him mixed with the fragrance of the flowers in your hair.

He was gently brushing the back of your hand with his calloused thumb, and you were about to thank him for the dance, but the commlink on his wrist beeped. Still holding your hand, he released your waist and turned his right wrist over to silence the beeping.

“Ah, forgive me. Duty calls.”

As his fingers brushed over the device, you noticed the knuckles on his right hand were slightly blotched with old bruises, but you put it aside in your mind. “I… I hope I’ll see you again, Fox.”

He grinned down at you and gave your fingers a delicate squeeze. “Me too. Be safe, Keeda. Do whatever Wolffe tells you to do.”

You felt a pang of longing as he released you and turned to join the other Guardsmen waiting in the shadows at the other end of the veranda. How long have they been standing there?

Suddenly, you remembered and called out to him, “Wait, Fox!” He was immediately before you again with a questioning look on his face. “Please, before you go… what’s your favorite color?”

Although he virtually towered over you, Fox took your hand again and bowed slightly, capturing your gaze once more. His lips were warm as he pressed an impossibly soft kiss against the thin skin of your knuckles, and a mixture of shock and delight flooded through your body. Smiling brilliantly at you one last time, he replied, “Green.”

Taglist: @ariadnes-red-thread @twistedstitcher27 @rexxdjarin @wizardofrozz @moodymisty @ellichonkasaurusrex @ttzamara @nekotaetae @misogirl828 @wild-karrde @kaminocasey

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[ladykatakuri]

First Dance and First Kiss

Commander Fox x F Reader

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Mention of assault, mention of bullying, body awareness

It is a Fluffy piece mostly !

This is my One Shot for Commander Fox and though he might seem too OOC for some, I still hope that you can enjoy it ❤

Summary: You sigh and stand up to face the commander. “I don't have a lover and even if any of the guys here were willing to take me out dancing, I would still want you to do it.” As he relaxes his posture you pat his arm. “You are one of those good guys Fox and I trust you. You never judge me and well…. I like you. It is just this once, after that I will never ask you to do something for me again, I promise.” The smile you show him does not reach your eyes which he notices. But before he can even respond, you walk out of his office.

“You want me to do what exactly?” Fox had to ask, he had to be sure that he heard you right.

“I want you to go dance with me tonight. Did something happen to your ears commander? I thought you had a perfect hearing, at least that is what you claimed after the last health check up.” You look up at the commander currently standing in front of you, hands planted in each side, his helmet slightly tilted to the side as if he was trying to hear you even better than he already did.

“I….. I don't dance.” It comes out with a grumble, almost impossible to hear, yet the way he stands there in front of you makes it all too clear what he is saying. “Why ask me in the first place! Ask your lover or friend or whatever. I'm certain there are enough people around to take you out for this kind of thing.”

You sigh and stand up to face the commander. “I don't have a lover and even if any of the guys here were willing to take me out dancing, I would still want you to do it.” As he relaxes his posture you pat his arm. “You are one of those good guys Fox and I trust you. You never judge me and well…. I like you. It is just this once, after that I will never ask you to do something for me again, I promise.” The smile you show him does not reach your eyes which he notices. But before he can even respond, you walk out of his office.

Puzzled by your request, he takes off his helmet and sits down behind his desk. His ever present caf at hand, Fox scratches the back of his neck when one of his fellow guard members steps in.

“Sir, I have some reports here for you to look over and a request from one of the senators for a guard during a trip.” Stone stops in his tracks when he sees his commander staring at his caf. “Everything alright sir?”

“Stone, yes, sorry. I was just … thinking. You have something for me?” Reaching out to Stone, he looks up at a grinning commander staring at him. “What ? “

Stone can not help but grin. There was only one person that would have his commanding officer so puzzled and she had just left his office. “What did she do this time sir? I know Y/N was just here. That girl always seems to confuse you somehow.”

Knowing that Stone was one of the very few that actually knew you very well, Fox decides to have a small chat with him. Standing up he waves at the chair in front of his desk. “Take a seat, Stone.” Closing the door to his office he turns around to take a seat as well.

“You know Y/N pretty well, right?” He grabs his caf and takes a big sip. Thank the maker for caf, without it he would not make it through these days on Coruscant, especially not when he is faced with an alluring person such as you who comes with the strangest requests sometimes.

“We go back some time sir. Met her at Dex's Diner and we hit it off right off the bat, Have been good friends ever since.” Stone knows all too well that you have a thing for his commander and you finally seem to have decided to do something about it, with a lot of encouragement from Stone of course. But, whatever it is you asked his commander, it has left him completely confused and Stone would make sure to enjoy this for as long as he could without having to suffer the wrath of said commander.

Fox seems to think things over for a minute before he speaks up again. “She…. She asked me to take her out dancing tonight.” A slight heat creeps up on his cheeks as he looks at Stone.

“So? What's the problem? You don't want to go out with her or you have other plans?” Stone can not help but chuckle as he watches his commander not only have a tinge of dark coming up on his cheeks , but even fidget with his cup of caf. It is so unlike Fox to be this nervous. He has had others ask him out on dates before and none of them ever made him even the slightest bit nervous. Yet here he was, fidgety and asking him, Stone, about you!

“No plans Stone, just…. I don`t know. She is a great person and, how can I put this? Different…. Why would she suddenly ask me to take her out dancing? I don`t dance!” Confused and bewildered, Fox throws his hands up as he looks at the commander in front of him. “She asked me for things in the past, and sometimes … Well sometimes she would just ask things I did not even understand. I mean, seriously, what in Makers name did she need a box of Jawa dolls for? Or why did she want me to escort a Gungan to a brothel?”

Stone gasps and then can not help but grab for his sides as he wheezes. The thought of his commanding officer escorting a Gungan to a brothel is just too much for his sanity. “She -wheeze- asked you to -wheeze- escort….?”

Fox stops him by holding up a hand. “I seriously don't want to talk about that.”

For a moment it seems as if Stone is unable to gather his wits again, but then he deeply inhales and calms down. “Sir, I know that she can come up with the weirdest things sometimes. But, how well do you really know her yourself?” He looks at Fox, who scratches his chin and reaches for his caf.

“I know she is kind, actually, one of the sweetest people you can meet here on Coruscant. She helped senators Amidala and Chuchi once with relief goods on Ryloth. She also tried to petition for clone rights once and she seems to be involved with some orphanage.”

To Stone`s surprise, it seems as though Fox knows more of your activities than he ever led on in the past. He must have been keeping tabs on you without any of his brothers knowing it. “That is just part of her story though. When I met her at Dex`s, she was just back from the hospital. She was attacked by some hoodlums that tried to assault her.”

That bit of information has Fox perk up, ready to ask questions and the glint in his eyes told Stone enough. Holding up his hand this time, he stops Fox from asking anything. “Please, let me continue.”

Reluctantly, Fox nods at the request and remains silent, holding in the questions that arose with that last bit of information.

“I got to spend some time with her while I was waiting for my order and well, we hit it off. Before we knew it, we would spend time together watching cheesy holo vids or having lunch or dinner at Dex`s, or if i could convince her, she would join me for a night at 79`s. She also opened up to me on her past and…. Sir, you know she has issues with how she perceives herself?”

This question has Fox raising his eyebrows. “Issues? How she perceives herself? Why would she have issues like that?”

Stone chuckles at that answer, clearly his commanding officer has a thing for Y/N and he is happy to hear and see this. “She grew up with people bullying her because of how she looks. Full body, stretch marks that she tried to hide all the time, scars from fights and accidents and when she was old enough, she decided to cover up some of those marks with tattoos. That only set her apart more from the people around her. No matter how beautiful she was, inside and out, I would like to add, she was bullied for it. Those who did not bully, would take advantage of her kind heart and when they no longer needed her, discarded her. When she made enough credits with the odd jobs here and there, she left for Coruscant and tried to make a living here. She managed to make some friends here who recognise her as the good and kind person she is and the beauty that is her own, but we both know that judgement is everywhere, no matter who you are and where you come from.”

Stone stops telling the story for as far as he believes he can tell it without compromising your trust in him. Your greatest secrets, he will not divulge, no matter who asks him. He will explain to his commander why you had asked him to take you out dancing and then, hopefully, you will both have the happy ending to this story that you both so deserve. You because of the amazing person you are, the commander because this man protects his family at the cost of his own health and sanity. Two peas in a pod the two of you are and you deserve every bit of happiness you can get.

“She asked you to take her out dancing because a friend of hers is getting married. The party she was invited to is at a nightclub in the city. She will have some friends there but also people who look down on her. For once I convinced her to ask someone to take her on a date and enjoy herself. We both know why she asked you though, right commander?”

Looking at the wide grin on Stone`s face, Fox can feel a burning sensation creeping up on his cheeks and quickly grabs his caf to take a sip. From what Stone has told him and the hints that he has given him, he finally realised that you felt the same as he does. And now, you were giving him the chance to show you that the feelings are indeed mutual.

Fox smiles and quickly types a message on his comm. “Guess I should look up some tips on how not to look like a complete di`kut on the dancefloor.”

That night changes everything for you and Fox.

When he came over to your apartment to pick you up for your date, he was both surprised and the most happy person in the galaxy. You wore the perfect dress for the evening, black with red trimming and to honor him and thank him, a small, red fox brooch just above your heart. The dress was showing just enough of your cleavage and loose enough on other places to cover for what you considered to be the less attractive places of your body. A little bit of makeup and the perfume you wore was intoxicating, as if you were covered in pheromones that wreaked havoc on his senses.

“You look amazing.” Fox had no words to truly describe how beautiful you looked, standing in your door while the neon lights were reflected in your eyes.

A blush creeps up on your cheeks as you smile at the man standing in front of you. For a moment you don't know what to answer until you have a better look at him.

“Y...You look handsome.” Dressed in civilian clothing, Fox looked like a dream. Black pants and jacket with his always favorite colour red for a dress shirt. He looked every bit the part of a casually clothed sophisticated man. That combined with his handsome features and mesmerizing brown eyes had you stumble out the compliment.

“ What the kriff am I saying?! “ You slap your own forehead as you think about what you just said. But then, you did tell the truth, Fox is handsome and he looks amazing dressed as he is.

With a deep chuckle Fox looks at you. “Thank you for the compliment.” He holds out his arm for you to grab hold of and escorts you to the taxi that he came with to pick you up.

“So, commander, what made you change your mind? As I recall you said you don`t dance?” You grin as you turn your head to Fox. Sitting in the back of the taxi, on your way to the party with a handsome man at your side, you finally calmed down enough to get some of your spirit back.

“I just realized, I had a good reason to accept the gracious invite you made.” The soft smile and the gleam in his eyes has you wonder what he could mean by that. But before you could reply, the taxi stops in front of the nightclub where your friend celebrates her upcoming marriage. You take a deep breath as you take the hand that reaches out for you and step out of the taxi and make your way to a night of celebration and insecurities.

As you step into the warm, dimly lit club the first thing you hear is the music playing and the murmuring voices of people spread across the place. A sudden clear voice calls out your name and you see your beloved friend approach. A cloud of green lace and silk topped by a wild bush of black curls storms towards you and before you can even stutter out a hello, you are tightly embraced. “I am so glad you came! I know you hate these kinds of things, but I am so happy and you look so good! And who is your handsome boyfriend?”

Not even allowing you to answer any of the rapidly fired questions she turns around towards Fox and holds out her hand. “I am Keera. You two look amazing together! Thank you for coming with her, she deserves to be happy and have some fun.” With a bright smile, the whirlwind named Keera does not even allow Fox to answer and already walks off to the next person she sees entering the club.

You look at Fox, to say you blush would be the understatement of the year. “I… I am sorry Fox. Keera can be, well she can be a lot to handle when you first meet her. And this is her while sober, so imagine her drinking and you are in for a hurricane.” You sheepishly laugh while you scratch the back of your head.

Fox just laughs and looks at the woman that just left the two of you behind. Spread across the club, people are staring at the two of you and some quickly begin to mumble behind their hands when they notice him looking their way.

The music that begins to play is a slow melody and you begin to softly hum along with it. The song is old but has always been a favorite of yours and some of your friends and Keera has always claimed it as her wedding song.

“So, how about it? You did ask me to take you out dancing this evening didn't you?” Fox, standing in front of you. holds out his hand and waits for you to take it so he can guide you to the dancefloor.

Taking his hand you look him in the eyes. “ Will you tell me what the realization was and why you just had to accept my gracious invite then?” His mentioning in the taxi on the way to the nightclub still had you wondering so you took the chance to ask him.

“I might, or I will just show you.” Fox, knowing this only ignites your curiosity, guides you to the dancefloor and wraps one arm around you while he holds your hand with the other, tugging your entwined hands against his chest. Slowly he begins to sway with you in his arms.

As the two of you sway around on the floor, completely in your own world at that moment, people notice the two of you and every now and then you pick up a few mumbled words. “Cute….” “Clone trooper.” “Couple…”

The only thing you do truly notice however, is your dear friend, standing at the edge of the dancefloor together with some of your other trusted friends. She waves at you as you pass by in the warm embrace of Fox and when she notices you looking at her she forms a heart with her hands as she grins. A blush creeps up again on your cheeks when you turn your look at the man holding you.

“She is perceptive, your friend.” His lips softly brush your ear as he whispers.

Surprised you look up at him. “You…?”

Without even batting an eye Fox tilts his head and gently kisses you. It is a short moment where your lips meet and you both sigh and relax in eachothers arms. “Stone will have a field day telling us he knew.” He chuckles when he sees the look on your face go from shock to surprise and then a sweet mix of happiness and comfort.

Grinning, you put your hand in his neck and push his face towards yours. “I don't care what people say Fox. Let them talk.” Once more your lips meet for a sweet kiss as you both sway in place on a melody that already had stopped playing.

“Guess we will have many more days and nights to move on together runi .” The use of the pet name has you sigh as you rest your head against his shoulder, nuzzling his neck. You will find out what it exactly means another time, for now you will just enjoy being here with the man you admired and had a crush on for a long, long time.

@loth-wolffe@chaoticvampirejedi@hellothere-generalangsty@uponrightful@hellothere501stlover@catbustours@nahoney22@moonstrider9904@reluctant-mandalore@cyroku@kin-rokku@zinzinina@naboosunsets-blog

[fett-djarin]

Stress Relief

Here it is! This is entirely self indulgent and filthy! Im a wh*re for the croissant guards

Also I headcanon Fox looking like how amikoroyoaiart draws him. her art is so good!

Commander Fox x f!reader

Crossposted on ao3

Rating: 18+

Length: 3.9k

Warnings/Tags: Oral (m receiving), that good sloppy toppy, office sex, cursing, light grinding, making out

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

Bringing the Guard their morning caf had become a tradition, of sorts. You knew the caf in the mess wasn’t good--in fact, it was barely even palatable. When you first started as a new secretary, it had been your timid way of offering friendship to the imposing troopers who worked so hard to keep the planet safe. They warmed to you quickly. Thire was the first to remove his helmet in front of you, plonking it down on your desk and taking a long pull of caf barely a second after you handed it to him. At your stunned look, he had just raised a brow and said, “Long patrol last night,” with a shrug.

As the others had become more comfortable with you, you had seen most of them without their buckets at some point--except for Fox. He always took his caf with a polite “Thank you, ma’am,” and retreated to his office. You knew it was against regulation for them to remove their helmets while they were on duty. But even when you dropped off the caf in his office, he was at his desk with his helmet on.

“He keeps it on so you can’t tell if he’s actually asleep,” Thorn told you one day. “I suspect he even does it while we’re standing guard sometimes.” You laughed aloud at that. The serious Commander Fox, asleep standing up. He was right though, you never would be able to tell.

The first time Fox removed his helmet in front of you, you hadn’t expected the gray dusting his temples, but honestly you weren’t surprised. The poor man was stressed beyond belief and worked half to death. You were more surprised that he finally did it in the first place. Fox sighed, running a hand through his unruly curls, before taking the caf and giving you a tired smile. He thanked you by name that time. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

From then on, he had been without it more when you went into his office. You even caught him sleeping once--head resting on his folded arms, bucket set next to him--and had done your best to deliver the caf without waking him. Maker knew he needed the sleep more than he needed hot caf--if Thorn hadn’t told you he snuck naps with the helmet on, you would think he ran off caf and stubborn will alone.

One morning, after you had passed out caf to the others--and a little cup of whipped cream for Grizzer--Fox hadn’t made an appearance, so you made your way to his office to drop it off. You knocked lightly on the door. “Come in,” his gruff voice called, and the door slid aside. You smiled at him, noting the way his shoulders visibly relaxed at seeing it was just you. You set the cup down on his desk. You had just turned when a touch on your wrist stopped you.

Fox was looking up at you, helmet cocked to the side. “You know you don’t have to bring us caf every time you work, right? The boys better not be nagging you for it.”

“I know,” you said. “I enjoy doing it. And it’s the least I could do.”

“The least you could do?”

“You all work so hard. You deserve more, even if it’s just better caf.”

He squeezed your wrist gently. “You don’t owe us anything. It is our duty to the Republic--”

“I know, Fox,” you tried to hide your grin, and failed. “But you’re also my friends.”

That seemed to surprise him, hand falling from your wrist as he sat back in his chair and regarded you curiously. You made your way back to the door, pausing in the entryway and looking back over your shoulder.

“Have a good morning, Commander.”

“...You as well, ma’am.”

The door slid shut behind you. Fox slipped his helmet off, setting it on his desk and staring hard at the door you had disappeared through. His eyes flicked to the paper cup of steaming caf, brows furrowed.

It was the first time you had called him by his name.

Friends?

----

After that day, Fox seemed to be trying to talk to you more. Instead of taking his caf and running off, he would stay, either to chat or just hang around for a minute with you and the other Guards. Stone nudged Thire, who nudged Thorn, and they all looked over to where Fox leaned his hip casually against your desk and you were laughing at something he said.

“Did someone replace Fox while we weren’t looking?” Thire questioned under his breath.

“I’ve never seen him so...cheery,” Stone said.

You smiled up at Fox, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. They watched as your fingers grazed the back of his hand where it rested on your desk. “Think something’s goin’ on between those two?” Thorn asked, gesturing vaguely over towards you and Fox with his cup.

“Absolutely.” Thire didn’t hesitate to answer.

The three quickly snapped to attention as Fox excused himself, heading their direction. You gave them a small wave. Thorn was about to wave back before Thire thumped him in the arm.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to?” Fox grumbled as he passed them, heading to his office. “Get to it.” You hid your laugh behind your hand seeing the three Commanders scramble to disperse.

Evening rolled around, and you cocked your head side to side, stretching your neck and shoulders. You had been going over forms all day, datapad after datapad, organizing reports and requests for the Chancellor and the Senate. Your shift was almost over, and you were getting ready to go home for the night.

Various members of the Guard had come and gone, leaving and returning from patrols. Senators and representatives had filtered through; less and less as the evening progressed. You were just getting ready to leave when Fox stalked through, back from his rounds, tense and practically vibrating with irritation. He didn't even spare you a glance as he disappeared into his office. If the doors weren't automatic, he likely would have slammed it shut.

You knew he had a thankless job--a job he had no say in having, either. Usually it was something to do with the Chancellor that got him so worked up. Half the time you thought Fox would strangle the man himself if he could. Maybe you should take Fox out to one of the cafes nearby, just for a second to breathe and not carry the weight of the Guard on his shoulders. Was that against regulation? It might be better to invite him back to your apartment. Or did that imply too much?

You pushed yourself up from your chair, mind made up. He could always say no. You wouldn’t be offended.

You paused outside the door to his office, listening carefully. You couldn’t hear anything from the other side. So, you knocked.

“What.” Fox’s biting tone surprised you, but you didn’t take it personally.

“Commander? I...It’s me,” you said hesitantly, and then wanted to smack yourself. Confidence. “Is everything alright?”

No response. You took the silence as a sign that he wasn’t interested in talking. That was fine. You didn’t want to impose if he needed time to himself. The door slid open just as you had stepped back, intending to leave. Fox sighed, jerking his head to direct you inside.

The door shut behind you, and Fox sat heavily in his chair at the desk. Another deep sigh, and his shoulders slumped. He pulled his helmet off, setting it aside, and you caught a glimpse of the dark circles under his eyes before he put his head in his hands.

“Commander Fox?” You took a tentative step forward, so you were close enough to reach out and touch his shoulder.

He looked up at you. There was still tension lining his shoulders, hands flexing into fists and then relaxing. Stress. He opened his mouth to say something, frowned, and then closed it again. He cleared his throat. “Did you need something?” You could tell he was making an effort to soften his voice, likely as to not snap at you again.

“I just wanted to check in, sir,” you said, coming around the desk to stand next to him, leaning your weight against it. “It looked like something was bothering you.”

He waved his hand in the air vaguely, brows pinched. “You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’ you’re not one of my men.” He looked like he was debating saying more, so you waited patiently, quietly, hoping he recognized that you were here to listen if he so needed.

“As you likely know, there’s a gala coming up. Senators, politicians, ambassadors, Jedi….” Fox huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s going to be a security nightmare. And the Chancellor,” he spat, venom in his voice, “has been on my case about patrols and the Guard. Always demanding more. We’re spread too thin, and not getting the support we need--” he cut himself off. He was getting himself worked up again.

You placed your hand over his where it was clenched into a fist on the desk. It relaxed under your touch. Fox heaved another sigh mixed with a groan. “I’m behind on paperwork too,” he glared at the stack of datapads sitting to the side. “I don’t know where I’m supposed to find the time to do everything.”

“Hmm,” you reached over and picked up one of the datapads, skimming through it, hopping up so you were now sitting on the desk. It was just a patrol report that needed Fox’s signature before being filed. “What’s your CC number?”

“CC-1010,” he answered instantly, then regarded you with suspicion. “Why?”

You signed the bottom of the form: CC-1010, “Fox,” and submitted it.

“What are you doing?” his voice seemed to have kicked up an octave.

“Helping you with your work. I deal with paperwork and holoforms all the time,” you said, picking up another datapad and scanning through the information. “Most of the time it’s to make sure there’s a document trail. Most of these probably don’t need an in-depth review, they’re not important. They just go in the archives and are never looked at again.”

“I--you--that’s illegal,” he sputtered. But he seemed more surprised than serious.

You raised a brow at him, signing his designation and name once again before submitting the next form. “Are you going to arrest me?”

“No,” he didn’t hesitate. Interesting. Then he had a thought. “Your handwriting doesn’t even look like mine.”

“Doesn’t it?” you showed him where you had signed. It was almost identical to his scrawling script. His eyes flicked between the form and your face, incredulity on his features.

“How…?”

You shrugged. “It’s something I’ve always been good at. Saved me a lot of trouble as a kid when I needed my parents to sign for something at school. Especially when it was a disciplinary note.” Fox barked a disbelieving laugh at that and you couldn’t help your sly smile. “Even if I didn’t mimic your signature, no one would notice. Or care. You could mark the lines with an X and it would go through; it’s only the acknowledgement they care about. You can even draw a loth-cat face and have that be in the archive forever as a signature.”

“Don’t you dare,” he threatened with a chuckle. “Some of these aren’t just patrol reports though. I actually have to read through the more important ones.”

You handed him a holopad as you picked up your third. “How’s this: we work on these together; if I find one that has important information or requires more than a signature, I’ll give it to you.”

He regarded you for a long moment, debating your offer. Some of the weight had lifted from his shoulders; he looked less tense, less overwhelmed, even less exhausted. Then he slowly nodded. “All right,” he said. “But you have to let me buy you coffee for once.”

“You don’t have to do that--”

“We’re friends. Right?”

That stopped you short. You did consider him and the other guards friends, but to hear him say that he also considered you one...it was nice. It made a pleasant warmth flutter in your stomach, and you couldn’t help your shy smile at his words. “Right,” you agreed. The soft upturn of his lips made your breath hitch. He looked so young when he smiled.

The two of you worked in companionable silence, steadily making your way through the stack of datapads. You had been correct--most of them were unimportant; standard reports and forms that required a signature purely for protocol. Every once in a while you handed one over to Fox for him to read through. Slowly, your free hands had crept together, and Fox hoped to the Maker that you didn’t notice how warm his cheeks had gotten. 

Your thumb rubbed soothing circles over the back of his hand, and he didn’t notice he was staring at the way your fingers moved rather than reading through the form you handed him until you cleared your throat. “Fox?” you asked quietly. His gaze landed on your lips. He wanted you to keep saying his name, he wanted to hear it again and again--

You brushed a stray curl back from his forehead. A tug on your arm had you stumbling forward off-balance, and you would have fallen if strong arms had not wrapped around you and pulled you into an armored chest. Heat rushed to your face at the new position you found yourself in: sat in Fox’s lap, his hand still entwined with yours.

Then he kissed you.

It was gentle, soft. His lips pressed to yours chastely, far more gently than you expected him to be, and you felt the datapad fall from your hand. The sharp clatter of it hitting the ground made Fox pull back, but then you grasped the back of his neck, twining your fingers in his curls, and pulled him back to your mouth. He tossed his own back on the desk with a groan as your lips met again.

You licked the seam of his lips, and he opened for you. Fox was content to let you lead. His hand gripped your hip, and he sighed into your kisses, melting from your affection. You don’t know how long the two of you stayed like that--tasting, breathing each other in, sharing languid kisses full of pent-up desire.

His wild curls were soft in your fingers, and he all but purred when you lightly scratched your nails along his scalp. The hard plastoid of his thigh plates was uncomfortable underneath you, and you shifted your hips slightly in an effort to find a more comfortable spot. The breath hissed out through Fox's teeth, and your face flushed with warmth realizing you had brushed against his codpiece. His fingers tightened on your hip and thigh, pulling you towards him, encouraging your hips to roll against him again.

It was an awkward angle, with you sitting with your legs thrown over his lap, but from the hitch in Fox’s breathing it was doing something for him. You hummed into his mouth before pushing yourself up, holding onto his broad shoulders for support as you swung one leg over so you were now straddling him, chest to chest.

“Better?” he rumbled, nipping your bottom lip before soothing the sting with his tongue. You squeaked as his palms cupped and squeezed your ass, tugging you closer. Both of you basked in each other's eager little breaths and soft noises, hungry and wanting for more.

"Mhmm." The new position allowed you to feel the firmness of Fox's codpiece against your center when you pressed your hips into his. Fox really appreciated the new position, with your tits against his chest and free access to grope your ass. He almost whined into your mouth at the steady slow grind you started against him.

You wanted to hear that noise again. An idea struck you. You wanted to taste him. One more deep kiss, then you shimmied back off his lap. Fox made a noise of protest and tried to pull you back to him, but you just grinned and shooed his hands away. The floor was cold on your knees as you settled between his spread legs.

“What are you--oh,” he cut off with a harsh breath as your deft fingers unclasped his codpiece and tossed it away. Immediately, your palm cupped the warm bulge at the front of his blacks. He shifted in his seat, and you noticed his cheeks and ears had flushed a shade darker. How cute.

“Commander,” you purred, slowly stroking him through the fabric.

“Y-yes, cyare?” His hands flexed at the arms of his chair. He was struggling to not reach out and pull you back on his lap. Normally so composed, Fox now looked wrecked with his lips slightly parted, kiss-swollen, and hair mussed.

“Will you let me suck your cock?”

Fox spluttered and fumbled at your bluntness. You bit your bottom lip, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, still slowly stroking him over his blacks. You could see him fighting with himself. Maker, he wanted it. He wanted to see your pretty lips wrapped around his length. But he also didn’t want you to feel like you had to--he also desperately wanted to pleasure you.

“Please?” you leaned forward and mouthed at his clothed erection, letting your spit soak the fabric. Your eyes locked with his, looking up at him with your best faux-innocent look, like you had no idea what you were doing to him. But Maker, you were hungry. You wanted him.

“Fuck,” the word sounded as if it had been punched out of him. His pupils were blown wide, black swallowing the rich brown of his irises. “Fuck, yes--”

You wasted no time in tugging the band of his blacks down. A shiver worked its way through him; seeing you on your knees in front of him was a dream--a dirty little fantasy he would never admit to. Many nights alone in his quarters or in the showers he had roughly fisted his cock to the thought of you in situations that were most definitely unprofessional, biting the back of his hand to keep his noises at bay. And now here you were, the sweet secretary, making his dreams become reality.

The sliver of warm skin revealed to you made you instantly want more, and you couldn’t stop from pressing a light kiss to his hip. Then you eased his leaking cock from his blacks. Fox hissed in a breath through his teeth as your hand loosely wrapped around him, pumping his length slowly. The precum that dribbled from the tip slicked your grip. He was thick and firm in your hand, like velvet-wrapped durasteel.

The first stroke of your tongue against his cock made him curse. You licked slowly, working your way from tip to base and back, tracing the pulsing vein that ran along the underside. Taking the head of his cock in your mouth, you tasted the salty tang of the precum that leaked from him. When you hummed around him, his hand shot to your hair, fingers winding through the strands. He didn’t push you down or pull you away; instead, he merely just...held on.

Fox’s breathing kicked up watching you worship his cock with your tongue and hands. You enjoyed watching him try to hold himself together, slowly making him fall apart piece by piece. Your head bobbed up and down his length, each time taking more of him. Your hand continued to pump and work the rest you hadn’t fit in your mouth. He breathed out a string of words in a language you didn’t understand, but from the tone it sounded like he was praising you.

All his little noises were making the heat coil in your core. Wetness pooled between your legs, and you clenched your thighs together for the slightest bit of relief. You closed your eyes to concentrate, focusing on the weight of his cock on your tongue, the heat of his body. You slowly took more of him in your mouth until you felt his tip bump the back of your throat. Breathe through your nose. Fighting off your gag reflex, you swallowed around him.

“Shit! Shit, mesh’la--” Fox cried out above you, feeling your throat constrict around his length. He tugged gently on your hair, and you pulled off him with a gasp. “Fuck, if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum in your mouth.” It was meant to be a warning, but he sounded too breathless for it to carry any weight.

“But Commander,” you looked up at him, enveloping the tip of his cock in the heat of your mouth and gently sucking. His thighs twitched under your hands, cock throbbing, and you pulled off with an obscene pop. “That’s the best part.”

You were messy, letting saliva drip from your mouth and down his cock. You sucked, licked, and kissed every inch of his length until it was sopping. When you ducked down to take his balls in your mouth, his breath hitched, hand tightening in your hair, and a low moan came from him.

“Gedet’ye, mesh’la, gedet’ye--” Fox choked out.

“Hm?” You pulled back, hand wrapped around his cock and continued to pump him tightly. You twisted your wrist when your hand brushed over his head. He was panting lightly, and looked deliciously wrecked.

“Gedet’ye,” he said again, “please.”

You smiled at him, and he felt his heart jump. You looked filthy, lipstick--Coruscant guard red?--smeared, lips and chin wet with spit. “I want you to cum in my mouth, Fox.” Then you brought your mouth back to his cock and sucked, laving your tongue over the sensitive head as one hand stroked the base. The other came up to cradle his balls, and he was done for.

Fox cursed up a storm in both Basic and Mando’a, nearly doubling over as his orgasm was wrenched out of him by your clever mouth. You kept your gaze connected with his, eyes hazy and half-lidded. Warm spurts of his release filled your mouth and you eagerly swallowed it down, milking his cock until he had nothing left. Subtly, you rubbed your thighs together, so turned on it nearly hurt. Seeing Fox fall apart for you stoked the fire of arousal in your core.

He had an arm thrown over his eyes as he slumped in his chair, chest heaving for breath. “Stars above, you’re going to kill me,” he said. You giggled, hands running soothing motions over his thigh plates, even though he couldn’t feel it through the plastoid. He looked boneless and sated, which was exactly your intention--well, part of your intention.

Then he was guiding you back up, cupping your cheek and kissing you hard. It was desperate, deep, filled with so much emotion that you couldn’t decipher it, you only knew that you felt the same. You moaned into his mouth. He broke the kiss, and you noticed the glint in his eye and his sly grin before he kissed you again, standing and guiding you back to sit on his desk.

“Now it’s my turn.”

[sleepingsun501]

Sweet True Lies: Chapter 2

The Taste of Caf

Pairing(s): Still none... don't worry we're getting there!

Characters: F!Reader/OC Keeda Ionza, Commander Fox, Commander Thorn

Summary: Keeda deals with the stressful aftermath of her evening, and Fox talks to Thorn about a new assignment.

Rating: This chapter is G (series is rated E)

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 3.5k

Ao3 link

A/N: Hello all, and welcome to chapter 2! So sorry it took so long for me to churn this out, but Covid is not a fun experience. I also wanted this chapter to be an alternate opening to this story in case chapter 1 was too graphic for anyone. I have also created an OC main character for this series because the level of detail I wanted to include was going to be too difficult to manage as a traditional reader insert fic.

Check her out here

The Taste of Caf

You breathed out a long, tense sigh as you watched the familiar luxury high-rise come into view. The senatorial transport wove smoothly around the bustling lanes of traffic, carrying you swiftly to your childhood home. It felt odd riding in a vehicle with such clearances, as it normally would have taken at least a few extra minutes for you to get here on your own through your normal route.

“Level 233, please. You can just pull up next to the speeder on the landing platform there,” you said to the driver, spotting your mother’s expensive vehicle parked on her private landing pad.

“No problem, miss,” the driver replied, slowing the transport, and angling smoothly toward the correct side of the skyscraper. Quickly stepping out of the transport and thanking the driver again, who tipped his cap to you, you made your way across the platform.

You were relieved your mother was home tonight. You had been half expecting her to be neck-deep in either some new medical research back at her office or planning for the upcoming charity gala at the lavish venue, but you saw the large, mirrored glass door already open for you as the transport came to a stop. Having already given her a heads-up through a text comm that you were on your way over—and recounting the entire incident in your message—you hoped you would not have to explain any of the distasteful events that had transpired in the past hour.

The wind rippled gently through your mother’s velvet robe and nightgown as she hurried out to greet you. You squinted as the warm light beyond the heavily tinted windows spilled out into the night and illuminated you. The austere look on your face must have told her enough because she immediately opened her arms to you.

“Oh, honey,” she cooed, the worry resounding in her tone. She placed a hand on your hair and tucked you into her shoulder.

“I’m okay, Mum,” you muttered, carefully crafting your composure, and not really believing the lie yourself.

Sareel Ionza was a thin woman with a graceful, reed-like figure, but her firm grasp on you was unbreakable. “I told Auntie Henya what happened, and she just feels awful. She said she wanted to come by in the morning to talk, but I figured you would want some space for a bit.”

You blinked rapidly and nodded, feeling choked up again as you leaned into the embrace. You found yourself hugging her back with equal force as if it would somehow help you absorb the motherly comfort she was exuding.

“Please let her know it wasn’t her fault, okay?” you requested, letting yourself be led inside. Henya was an experienced lawyer who represented the same hospital where your mother worked, and she was one of her best friends. She had watched you grow up and had been like family for years, and she had been the one who set up the date for you.

You passed through the large circular foyer and into the less formal part of the residence with your mother’s arm still around your shoulders. Upon entering the kitchen, you shucked your coat and tossed it lazily over the arm of one of the sleek barstools, making for the conservator.

“I’m not hurt, Mum,” you said heavily, feeling her sharp brown eyes following your every move. You shook your long, heavy hair out of the loosely braided updo you had been wearing all evening, releasing some of the strain on your neck and ducking behind it like a curtain.

The oversized, stainless durasteel-topped island in the center of the kitchen was littered with flimsi sheets, a few datapads, and samples of different elegant dishes. Yep, she was gala planning. you thought, wrinkling your nose at what looked to be a slippery seafood dish. Your mother’s protocol droid, TC-N2, was unwrapping and setting out even more food samples as you passed. Fuck, I could’ve just come here for dinner.

“Maybe not physically,” your mother said swiftly, tucking a stray pale blonde curl behind her ear and adjusting her glasses, “but you’re most definitely shaken up. I know very well that you can fend for yourself, but I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened if those clones had not been there.” She pursed her lips as she took your coat and folded it before handing it off to TC-N2. “They sound like good men.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, swallowing thickly. “They were.” Keeping your head buried in the conservator, you blinked hard and banished the stress tear that had been trying to escape. Talking about your evening was the last thing you wanted to do, but you conceded that she was your mother, and she had a right to express her feelings about it.

Your mind wandered back to the clone commander and his men again as you continued searching through the conservator. As prepared as you had been to defend yourself, you were relieved the clones had come along, and you once again felt guilty about how you had spoken to the commander—you had not even asked for his name.

“So good to see you this evening, Mistress Keeda. Is there something you require? As you can see, we have plenty of food,” the silver-plated droid asked you, watching you dig through various frozen items.

“Nope, I got it,” you replied, holding up a tub of your favorite ice cream triumphantly and grabbing a nearby spoon. “Thanks, N2.” You plunged the spoon into the softening ice cream, took a bigger scoop than was probably wise, and stuffed it in your mouth. The sweetness and rich cocoa-caf flavor immediately replaced the bitterness you had been tasting for nearly half an hour, making the tightness rising in your chest a little easier to bear.

“Is there anything else you require, Mistress Sareel?” N2 asked your mother. “If not, I should like to recharge for a while. My energy level is becoming critical.”

“Go ahead, N2,” your mother said, dismissing the droid. She leaned on the grey tektite granite counter behind you and took off her glasses. “This is the last thing I’ll ask tonight, I promise,” she began, also grabbing a spoon. “Would you like me to remove the governor and his wife from the gala invitation list?”

You breathed deeply, trying to calm your nerves as you rolled the frozen cream around on your tongue. The calm familiarity and the sweet, oaky scent of your sprawling childhood home were soothing you in a way you could not explain, and it was helping you think more clearly. As much as you despised playing politics, you knew uninviting the governor mere days before the gala would not benefit the charity’s local efforts in his district. If you had to suffer through an evening in the same room as your assailant’s family for the benefit of all those people the charity could potentially help, then you would do it.

Out of what felt like a mixture of spite and possibly a little self-pity, you dug your spoon into the ice cream again and took another large bite before pushing the container toward your mother. “Don’t uninvite them,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m sure they’ll be hearing about this from Henya, anyway. Besides, it’s their son who was the problem.”

“It’s up to you, honey. They may want to talk to you about what happened tonight,” she said giving you a concerned look and taking a smaller bite. “That is if they even choose to come at all,” she added bitterly.

You mulled it over silently as you shared your dessert. You had already made up your mind, but there was that tiny inkling of doubt that made you question yourself. You took one last large spoonful of ice cream and popped it into your mouth before tossing your spoon into the sink with a clatter. “It’s fine, Mum. Don’t worry about it,” you said blandly. You were self-aware enough to know it was not actually fine because of the sickening numbness still tightening in your gut.

Inhaling deeply in an unsuccessful attempt to relieve the ache, you scrubbed a hand through your wavy hair. “I’m gonna go take a bath and just try to sleep. I’ve canceled all my plans for tomorrow so I can have a bit of a lie-in.”

“Okay. I’ll be out here if you need me,” your mother said, kissing the back of your head gently and patting your shoulder as she walked behind you. “If you want something to do tomorrow, could you stop by June’s nursery and check on the flowers for the gala?” she asked.

June was your best friend from university. She had inherited one of the few floral greenhouses left on Coruscant, and your mother had placed a substantial order with her for the gala decorations. You had been meaning to stop by there to see her anyway, so you answered with a silent nod.

“I’m glad you’re here and that you’re safe,” your mother added as you disappeared down the hall, sounding a little melancholy.

You made your way to your bedroom, knowing full well why your mother had said that. She had asked you at least twice over the past few months to move back in with her, and after tonight, you could only imagine that desire had grown. She had mentioned before that it did not feel as homey without you, and that the sprawling luxury condo was simply too big for one person, especially when she was hardly ever there. She had even gone so far as to update your room for you over time, keeping up with your maturing tastes.

Originally, you had told yourself you moved out to feel some sort of independence after you had started attending the University of Coruscant, but the truth was you had been trying to escape the memory of your father at the time. You could never escape him, though, because you looked just like him—everything from your light olive skin and dark hair down to your bright green eyes and muscular build was him.

As you entered your old bedroom, being here no longer felt like you were going to accidentally stumble into him turning a corner or see him sipping whiskey and reading in his favorite chair. Maybe you would consider it—you had been feeling rather lonely as well, absorbed in your work. After all, it was why you had agreed to go on that awful date in the first place.

It also dawned on you that keeping your little apartment much longer would be impractical. Part of the whole reason for the gala was not only to fundraise but also to commemorate the official attachment of civilian relief-effort volunteers to different units of the Grand Army of the Republic. Seeing as you were one such volunteer, you could not fathom a reason to let the place just sit empty for months on end.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and rubbed hard, trying to dispel the headache that was forming behind your eyes. Too many thoughts were racing through your head, and it was not helping your rising blood pressure. You kicked off your shoes and wrenched the handle on your tub a little harder than necessary. The large soaker tub filled quickly, pleasantly warming the air with steam, and you set about examining yourself in the mirror as you stripped down. When you turned in the dim light, you noticed a bruise forming on your upper arm where your assailant had grabbed you.

Dammit. you thought, scrambling to grab a tube of bacta from one of your drawers. Thank the Maker your mother always kept the home stocked full of medical supplies—almost as well-stocked as the hospital itself. Your vision started to blur with unshed tears again as you fumbled with the cap and squeezed the gel over your arm.

Rubbing it in furiously, you did not think he had gripped you that hard, especially through your wool-lined coat, but the adrenaline must have overridden your ability to sense pain. You were disgusted by the thought of him having left any kind of mark on you, so you slathered another copious amount of the tingling blue gel into your arm until your skin was dry and the bruise began to fade.

The tears were flowing freely by the time you lowered yourself into the steaming water, not caring that it was a bit too hot for your liking. You grimaced as your skin prickled from the heat, but you forced yourself into it anyway. The tub was deep enough that you could submerge yourself completely, so you sank under the water, letting it carry your tears away, and let yourself scream—the delayed and repressed rage and fear finally breaking through.

***

High in the towers of the GAR Military Complex, Fox plopped down in his chair tiredly. It was late, and he had a mountain of flimsi-work to catch up on, but it was worth it to have taken Jonor and Rydar on their first real patrol. It was even more worth it to have put that high-born asshole in his place.

He pulled his gloves off and ran his calloused hands over his face and through his curls, waiting for his little caf machine to finish brewing a fresh pot. He studied his right hand in the light from his desk lamp and flexed away the slight soreness. His right knuckles had bruised from the force of the two blows he had dealt, and he was glad for it. That shabuir deserved every hit.

How anyone could ever even think of hurting a woman—any other living being for that matter—in that gruesome way was inconceivable to him. As a soldier and a commanding officer, he had a stomach for everything except that. The very idea of it made his gut churn.

Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes briefly and could still see her in his mind. Her beautiful green eyes had been so full of fire, ready to burn everything in their wake. She had been quick and accurate as she had pushed him away, a clear sign of training. He had no doubt she probably could have taken care of herself, but a deep pressure enveloped his chest as he thought of her. He hoped she had made it to her destination safely.

The beeping of his caf machine broke through the memory. Fox blinked and dragged himself up again, grabbed a clean cup, and poured what he knew would be the first of many. He shook himself a little, watching his cup fill and wondering why that young woman had such a deep effect on him. He did not even know her name. As he replaced the small pot, he heard his office door slide open.

“Bring the shinies back alive?” a rather chipper voice asked.

Thorn. Fox thought as he turned to face his brother. “They did very well. Observant and followed orders.”

“Glad to hear it,” Thorn said with a yawn, pulling his chin-length golden curls into a bun. “I was getting worried Jonor would get sidetracked. He’s shown some tendency for distraction in training sims. They looked pretty happy with themselves, though. Got enough there for two?” he asked, looking to the caf pot.

Fox tipped his head toward the pot as he took a sip and crossed the room to his desk. The hot, bitter, dark liquid warmed him to his bones.

Thorn poured himself a cup and took an experimental sip. “Ugh,” he grimaced. “How do you drink this stuff without some sugar or cream or… dying?” That got a rare, genuine laugh out of the stoic Marshal Commander. Smiling to himself, Thorn knew he was probably one of the few clones alive, apart from Fox’s batchmates, that could manage to make that happen.

“Black like my soul,” Fox said, taking his seat again. He had to admit that despite the cheap quality of the drink, he had grown to like it. There was something familiar and steady about it now, a constant in the ever-changing game that he played to keep his brothers safe. He had learned the politics that governed the Republic, quietly observing the undercurrents of coded conversations, and he used the information to make sure his brothers were prepared for the warzone that was Coruscant itself. A simple cup of caf was the only certainty he was ever allowed.

Thorn frowned, but his voice was light, “Ha! Have you met yourself? The boys would’ve nicknamed you ‘Commander Sunshine’ if the 212th hadn’t already snatched that title for Cody.”

Beneath the gruff, quiet, and intimidating exterior, Fox was one of the most selfless brothers Thorn had ever come across. He had always put himself on the line first, whether it be physical or official, ready to take the fall for them if necessary. For that, Thorn and the rest of the Corries were eternally grateful. They all knew how tired he was, they had all seen the premature grey lacing through his curls, and they all worked their asses off out of gratitude.

Fox miraculously laughed again, taking another drink. His oldest batchmate, Marshal Commander Cody of the 212th Legion deserved that call sign far more than he did. In any case, Fox thought his troops’ call sign for him—Caf—suited him far better, even if no one called him that to his face.

“Whoa, hold up,” Thorn said suddenly, coming over and pointing to Fox’s knuckles. “Those are new.”

Sighing and ignoring Thorn’s remark, Fox set his cup down and picked up his stylus, ready to start signing off on reports and supply requests.

Thorn perched himself expectantly on the edge of Fox’s desk, caf in hand. “You always wear training gloves so those aren’t from a punching bag or a training scrap.”

Fox pulled a face. He knew Thorn was not going to let this go, no matter how much work he had to do. His hyper-observant blonde kih’vod was a pain in his ass at times, always mother-nuna-ing him, but he had grown to rely on it in a way—not that he would ever admit that out loud.

“This one’s off the books… for now,” Fox said, keeping his eyes on his reports and giving in to the silent pressure of Thorn’s gaze.

The blonde cocked an eyebrow, sipping his caf and waiting patiently as Fox recounted the evening’s events. He was not surprised at the stunningly thorough level of Fox’s detail, especially how his fist making contact with the assailant’s jaw had brought the tired commander some true satisfaction. It had been a while since any of the Corrie commanders, including Stone and Thire, had the occasion to justifiably beat the living shit out of anyone, especially a nat-born. Sure, they went at each other hard in training, but even training had its limits.

Fox finished his narrative as Thorn downed the last swallow of his caf. “Damn, I gotta get out of the senate building and start going back on patrols more often,” he said, pulling a tube of bacta gel out of one of his belt packs and extending it. “I miss the action out there.”

Eyeing the tube, Fox shook his head, his curls bouncing a little against his forehead as he scribbled his signature off on a report. “Nah, I want to keep these for a while.”

“Your call, vod. Might not look too good in your dress greys with your hand like that, though,” Thorn replied with a shrug, tucking the tube back in his pack. “Might want to use some under your eyes, too. You need more sleep.”

Fox paused his scribbling. “Dress greys?” he asked, confused. “When am I…?” Then it crashed over him. The charity gala that a multitude of senators and other public officials had been invited to was in just a few days. “No,” he protested adamantly, looking up at Thorn beneath his heavy brows. “No, no, no, Thire said he had that covered.”

Thorn shrugged. “He got called off-world. Some senator needed an escort home and back through the frontline.” He chuckled quietly as Fox groaned and thumped his head on his desk. “Come on, it’s just a big fancy dinner with a few thousand guests tops. It’s not the worst event we’ve ever covered. Maybe we can sneak some dinner while we’re there like we did at that crazy party Senator Taa held last month.”

Kriffing hells. Fox did not even bother to raise his head. “You know, you guys keep telling me to sleep, but instead you keep giving work I delegate to you right back to me.”

“Well, when Jonor and Rydar and the rest of their batch can hold their own in security detail, I’ll delegate more to them,” Thorn said, bumping Fox’s armored shoulder and hopping off his desk. “Seriously, though, take a nap at least.”

“I’ll nap when you get a haircut,” Fox shot back, both playful and annoyed. He was tired of finding stupidly long, stray blonde hair on everything.

“You’ll be awake for the rest of my life,” Thorn laughed, leaving Fox to his flimsiwork.

Tags: @ariadnes-red-thread @moodymisty @twistedstitcher27 @wizardofrozz @ellichonkasaurusrex

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[sleepingsun501]

Sweet True Lies: Chapter 1

Eyes Do Not Lie

Paring(s): None... yet

Characters: F!Reader, Commander Fox, OC clone troopers

Summary: During a disastrous date night, Commander Fox comes to your aid and teaches your assailant a lesson.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: SA threat (just the threat, nothing further), violence

Word Count: 3k

Ao3 link

A/N: Please let me know if I missed any warning tags with this one. This work contains graphic depictions of violence and an SA threat (it doesn’t actually occur tho), so if you're not ok with those, don't read.

I may also turn this into a short series. I have ideas (hence the title), but I'm not sure yet. Let me know if you want a part 2!

Eyes Do Not Lie

You sipped at your wine, slouching back into the luxuriously plush chair of the over-the-top restaurant overlooking Coruscant’s skyline. You already disliked coming to these kinds of establishments for your mother’s charity functions, so coming to one for a date was not exactly your idea of a fun evening. Sighing purely out of boredom, you crossed your legs and gazed out the glass wall beside your table.

Having grown up with an abundance of wealth from your late father, a bitter taste was left in your mouth when it came to the upper classes of the Core Worlds. The posh lifestyle and the overinflated sense of self-importance most of your socialite friends—if you could really call them friends—possessed was off-putting, to say the least. You had never been one to buy the most expensive clothes and trinkets or follow the latest trends that made their way through the materialistic society, and you glumly wished that one of them were here to take your place.

Tonight, you would have rather been down in the night markets, eating steaming food straight from vendor stalls and watching various street performers—things you remembered doing with your father before he died. He taught you the true value of wealth from a young age, how to maintain it, and how to use your fortunate position in life to help others.

After he was gone, you had spent the majority of your free time volunteering and working for the charity organization your brilliant surgeon mother had founded in his memory. You even earned your university degree in finance to prepare yourself to take over the charity someday. You had met people of all different species from all different places across the galaxy through your work, and your workload had only doubled since the Clone Wars had started. So, on a rare night off, you had somewhat hoped to be swept off your tired feet for a change.

You gazed out the window at the darkening sky, the towering skyscrapers, and the speeder traffic as you mused in your memories, barely listening to your date anymore. It’s so beautiful here at night. you thought, swirling the pale, bubbling liquid in your glass. The glittering skyline itself never failed to dazzle you—something your date was currently failing at.

“And I also have—well, my father has—a summer home on… And one time I… Did I mention that I…” your date rambled.

Maker, he just doesn’t shut up about himself. you grumbled inwardly, taking another sip of the expensive, sparkling white wine. You were certain the sweet, crisp flavor of the fruity alcohol and the promise of a buzz were the only things that would get you through the evening as the young man seated across from you babbled on and on.

It seemed that he never recounted a story or even spoke a sentence unless it was about himself, and it was always after he had taken a bite of his over-priced gundark steak. You had barely gotten a word in edgewise between his stories, he never once asked you anything about yourself, and anything you said may as well have been fuel for his ramblings.

You continued sipping at your wine—your own steak barely touched thanks to his obnoxious, open-mouthed chewing—as you analyzed him, wondering what your mother’s friend could have possibly seen in this tall, lanky, self-involved governor’s son. He was not unattractive, with dark hair and sharp features, but his attitude had canceled that out straight away. If you were being honest with yourself, you were so disinterested that you could not even remember his name.

Your mother’s friend had meant well when she had set up the date for you, but even your mother had done a double-take at you when you had agreed to go. You were not normally one to go on a blind date, and this experience was only reinforcing that you never would again. Finally tired of his incessant chatter, you downed your wine and signaled a passing waiter droid so you could pay the tab and be done with him.

“Eager to get home?” he asked, smirking at you around a mouthful of food.

“Something like that,” you muttered blandly, inserting your credit chip into the droid. Your skin crawled while you waited for the payment to process. He had looked at his dinner the same way he was eyeing you now, like a piece of meat. The droid beeped a few times to signal that the payment had gone through, so you quickly grabbed your wool-lined coat and practically sped to the exit.

“Well, I’m not gonna say no to a lady who likes to treat,” he laughed. He tossed his napkin over his leftover food as he rose, bumping the table less than gracefully, and quickly followed after you.

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you stepped into the turbolift that took you swiftly to the practically deserted streets below. Although Coruscant did not technically have seasons, it had been uncharacteristically chilly for the past few days in your district, keeping the normal foot traffic away. You cringed a little from the feeling of your date’s eyes still on you, and it made your stomach churn.

“Listen, I’m really not feeling all that well, tonight,” you said over your shoulder, trying to gauge just how close he was. The air in the small lift was becoming rather thick, making you feel boxed in. “I think I just need to go home.”

He ignored the implied sentiment completely, his hands coming up to grip your upper arms as the turbolift came to a stop. “Bet I could make you feel better, babe,” he said, his voice low and slippery.

Utterly disgusted by his behavior, you shrugged out of his grasp before he could come any closer. “Please, don’t touch me.”

“Hey, come on now!” he protested bluntly as you nearly launched yourself out the opening doors.

The chilled air felt like a blessing after the short lift ride, and you started toward a cab stand further down the lamplit street to call for a ride.

“What? You don’t want to have some fun?” he called after you.

“Ugh,” you groaned. “Seriously? I just said I don’t feel very well and you’re coming on to me? What’s the matter with you? For an official’s son, your manners are severely lacking.”

His eyes narrowed and he immediately lost all of the poorly practiced suavely mannerisms. You had clearly struck a nerve, and he took a purposeful, dangerously slow step toward you. “All right then, babe, maybe I won’t show you a good time. Maybe I should just take you somewhere nice and quiet and show you how I’d use that smart little mouth of yours.”

Every bit of instinct you possessed was screaming at the threat he now posed, but you stood your ground. You had taken an impressive number of martial arts classes your entire life—courtesy of your mother—and even with the alcohol in your system, you knew you were more than a match. Even still, you wished the street had not been so deserted.

“Don’t even try it. I could knock you cold,” you said boldly, subtly widening your stance in case he tried anything. The adrenaline was spiking through you now, sharpening your focus and your anger.

Just as you were anticipating, he lunged at you, grabbing at whatever part of you he could reach. Luckily for you, you were much faster. You ducked away from your assailant’s hand, managing to plant the heel of your palm into his nose and your opposite fist into his throat. He immediately coughed and sputtered, but managed to take hold of your arm and pull you off-balance as he doubled over. While you struggled against his grip with a loud snarl, you heard several sets of heavy boots racing toward you.

“Hey!” you heard a deep, modulated voice shout. “Hey, enough! Leave her be!” You had heard that voice hundreds of times.

Clone troopers.

Suddenly, your assailant was knocked away from you and flat on his back by two massive blurs of red and white armor. The three of them landed together in a heap of limbs, leaving you to stumble back into someone else’s arms. The adrenaline and fury racing through your system made you lash out, swinging yourself around to shove whoever it was away. Your hands met more armor—redder than that of the other clones.

“Get off me!” you shouted, pushing the clone away. As the initial shock wore off, you realized these were not ordinary clones. They were Coruscant Guard officers. Well, at least the one who had caught you was. He wore kamas and a helmet vizor along with carrying two DC-17 pistols—items you knew only officers were allowed.

“Easy, miss. I—” he began, but you were already stalking away toward the cab stand again. “Miss, wait! Are you hurt?” he called after you.

Readjusting your form-fitting coat, you turned sharply to face him. “I’m fine. Just leave me alone,” you spat. You had to admit your tone was not warranted, but you could not bring yourself to care. You just wanted to go home and forget this whole horrible night had happened.

The officer held his gloved hands out placatingly, “Please, I’m only—”

“I know,” you interrupted. “Look, you saw what he did to me, and if you want a statement I’ll send one to CSF tomorrow.”

He turned as one of his men called to him, “Boss?” Your assailant was struggling in their steel-like grips even with his hands now in binders.

“Hold him there, Rydar. Be there in a minute,” the commander called back, his modulated voice deep and rich. He raised his hands to his helmet after a moment, pulling it off to reveal his face.

Even though you were so aggravated, you stopped to take in his features, a little surprised at how different he looked from the average trooper. You had seen this face dozens of times, and his beautiful bronze skin was complimented by his red and white armor, but his other features set him apart, and you thought he was rather ruggedly handsome.

His hair, a little longer than regulation on top and greying at his temples, looked like it would have normally been neatly styled if he had not just taken his helmet off. The long, lightly greying curls on top of his head fell haphazardly onto his forehead along with a few others breaking loose around the evenly-faded sides.

There was also a faint scar on the left side of his bottom lip, as though it had been badly split once and not healed properly, and a light layer of dark stubble dusted his cheeks and jaw. He was massive—tall, broad, and burly, and you suddenly felt very small. That was when you noticed he had managed to take a couple of cautious steps toward you, and you immediately backed away.

“Please, I-I just want to leave,” you choked out, a lump rising in your throat. You could feel your eyes widen in fear and prickle with tears as you looked back at your assailant. He was being held on his knees by the two other clones and glaring hatefully at you. The chill that ran down your spine had nothing to do with the cold air, and you promptly looked back to the commander, who was watching you carefully. Those sharp golden-brown eyes did not seem to miss a thing.

“Okay, that’s fine. At least let me call a ride for you,” he said soothingly, searching your face and stopping his advance. He changed course over to the cab stand, pressing several buttons on the keypad and a few more on his vambrace. In less than a minute, a long, sleek blue speeder arrived.

That’s not a normal cab. you thought to yourself. That’s a senatorial transport vehicle.

A sharply dressed Mirialan driver hastily stepped out of the speeder, tipped his cap, and opened the door for you, ignoring the rest of the scene entirely.

“Take her anywhere she wants to go,” the commander said, the crisp authority in his tone telling the driver everything he needed to know.

“Yes, sir,” the Mirialan replied, nodding to the commander and waiting for you.

Your jaw dropped open unceremoniously, your head swiveling between the red-armor-clad commander and the posh speeder. You felt frozen in place, stunned by the gesture, and you were suddenly unsure of whether or not to take the ride as the knot in your stomach clenched.

The commander gave you a soft smile and a nod, “Go. This is on the Republic.” His expression may have been calm, but his amber eyes were shining with urgency.

Swallowing thickly and tearing your gaze away from his, you muttered a small, “Thank you,” and slid into the back seat of the speeder. You looked back at the clone commander one last time as the door slid shut. He was still gently smiling at you, and his posture had relaxed marginally now that you were in the vehicle.

“Where to, miss?” the driver asked, setting the speeder in motion.

You told the driver your mother’s address, not wanting to go back to your own apartment to be all alone, and you were still looking out the back window as the speeder rose into the sky. The commander grew smaller by the second, his armor the only distinguishable part of him as the distance between you increased.

The sinking feeling in your stomach and the numbness in your limbs only became more prevalent as your adrenaline rush subsided, and you suddenly felt guilty about how you had snapped at him. You hugged yourself and gnawed at your lip when you realized just how horribly you had treated him. After all, he and his men had come to your aid, and he had been very cognizant and understanding of your feelings. Although you doubted you would ever see him again, you hoped he did not think badly of you.

***

Commander Fox watched the speeder fly off, keeping that poker face on until she was well out of sight. Behind him, he could hear his men holding her assailant down, just as he had ordered.

His blood boiled with rage at the dark-haired man trapped in Rydar and Jonor’s grips. When he and his boys had rounded the corner to find the young woman defending herself against this shabuir, every cell of his body had propelled him forward to protect her.

He could not blame her for how she had reacted to her rescuers, and now that she was safe, he could get to work. A dark scowl replaced Fox’s calm façade as he turned and strode back to his men, slipping his bucket back on and cracking his knuckles. He was so very glad the street was deserted because this pompous asshole was going to learn a lesson.

Without a word, he motioned for Jonor and Rydar to follow him down a nearby alley. The assailant kicked and thrashed and growled, but his slight frame barely phased the two clones.

Stopping a few yards from the back wall of the alley, Fox pointed to the ground in front of him. His boys came around him, tossed the assailant to the filthy duracrete in a heap, and took their places flanking their commander.

“Don’t you know who I am?!” the man shouted indignantly, pushing himself to his knees.

Fox did not hesitate. He lunged forward, and in two swift strides, he locked his massive hand around the assailant’s neck, lifting him straight off the ground and slamming him into the wall. The tall, dark-haired man instinctively clawed at Fox’s vambrace, trying desperately to loosen the hand cutting off his air supply, but the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard was taller, stronger, and far angrier.

“You must think you’re something special don’t you?” Fox said evenly, despite the situation. “You think you can just take whatever you want. You threatened to rape her, I could see it in her eyes.”

The man tried to choke out some defensive response, but the terror in his eyes gave away the truth.

“I sincerely hope you reevaluate your morals after tonight,” Fox said, the rage slipping into his tone. He quickly released the man from his binders, dropped him to his feet, and promptly backhanded him to the ground. He knew he could have knocked the man out if he had wanted to, but Fox knew his own strength, and he wanted this hut’uun to feel it. As the assailant scrambled to his feet again, Fox’s fist found the underside of his jaw, lifting him off the ground once again only to land in the grime.

The Marshal Commander stepped back and looked at the two vode beside him. Jonor and Rydar were little more than shinies, still a little skinny and trigger-happy, but he could see them itching to get a few swings in. He tipped his bucket toward the assailant, who was now groaning in agony, giving the boys the green light.

“Ten seconds. Leave him conscious and let him walk home,” Fox said over his shoulder, giving them veiled instructions not to break any bones. The sounds of grunts, groans, and punches grew quieter as he walked back to the entrance of the alley, counting down in his head. When he got to ten, he whistled, and the boys came jogging to his side to continue their patrol. “Not a word.”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison, picking up their discarded blasters and falling in step.

As they continued their patrol, Fox could not help but think of the young woman. She had been so fierce and strong, but also so very beautiful. He thought of how she had shoved him back when he had caught her, and he had been a bit surprised that she was capable of such force. Her eyes had shone with both fear and determination in the darkness, ready to fight him off, too. He quietly hoped she had made it to wherever she needed to go, and that she would recover quickly from her ordeal.

Mando'a Translations:

Shabuir - extreme insult/"jerk" but stronger

Huut'uun - coward

Next Chapter