#dataworks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lightasthesun · 1 year ago

Text

Comprehensive Lexicon Guide for First-Time SW Fic Readers:

Flimsi/Flimsiplast = Paper

Flimsiwork/Datawork = Paperwork

Stylus = Pen

Datapad = Tablet

Comlink/Comm = Communication Device/Phone

Binders = Handcuffs

Chronometer = Clock

Spectacles = Eyeglasses

Chrono = Watch

Conservator = Refrigerator

Caf = Coffee

Nerfburger = Hamburger

Blue milk = Milk (literally blue)

Hubba chips = French Fries

Sweet roll = Doughnut

Flatcakes = Pancakes

Tabac = Tobacco

HoloNet = World Wide Web

Holovision/HoloTV = Television

Holodrama/Holovids = Movie/Videos

Holocamera/Holocam = Camera

Holomap = three-dimensional map

Holojournal = Newspaper

Holocube = Picture frame

Holotable = Projector

Holoscanner = X-ray machine

Holojournalist = Reporter

Flatholo/Holograph = Photograph

Sonic Damper = Active Noise Cancellation

Refresher/Fresher= Bathroom

Sonic Bath = Bath

Sanisteam/Sonic shower = Waterless Shower

Hydrospanner = Wrench

Hydro Flask = Water Bottle

Power Cell/Energy Cell = Batteries

Authorization Chip = Decryption key

Datatape = Disk

Datastick = Flash drive

(Personal) Com Code = Phone number

Datachip = SD Card

Synthflesh = Synthetic skin

Glowrod = Flashlight

Sparkstick = Match

Slugthrower = Gun

Slug = Bullet

Vibroblade = a blade that can vibrate at high frequencies, increasing its cutting power and penetrating ability (tactical knife)

Rangefinder = Rifle scope

Turbolaser = Cannon

Ion pike/Vibropike = Spear

Electro Staff = Stun baton

Blaster = Pistol/Rifle

Stun Blaster = similar to a Taser

Landspeeder/Airspeeder/Speeder = Car

Turbolift = Elevator

Slideramp = Escalator

Starfighter = Fighter jet

Rotorcraft = Helicopter

Hoverpack/Jetpack= Jet pack

Speeder Bike = Motorcycle

Skylane = Traffic lane

Railspeeder/Hovertrain = Train

Power Chair/Hoverchair= Wheelchair

Windscreen = Windshield

Podracing = Car racing

Dejarik = Chess

Sabacc = Poker and Blackjack combined

Galactic Rebels = Combat simulator

B'shingh = Dungeons and dragons

Jizz = Jazz music

Wailer = Singer (ie. Jizz Wailer)

Cantina = Bar or Pup

Para Sailing = Paragliding

Aurebesh = Alphabet

Credits = Money

Sleeping Pallet = Bedroll

Naming Day = Birthday

Youngling = Child

Galactic Basic Standard/ Basic = English

Medkit/Medpac = First aid kit

Hypo = Syringe

Medic/Healer = Doctor

Medcenter = Hospital

Bactapatch = Bandaid

Nanoweave = Fabric

Transparisteel = Glass

Plastifoam = Packing material

Durasteel = Steel

Plasteel = Plastic

Duracrete = Concrete

Slicer = Hacker (slicing = hacking)

Identikit = Passport

Minder = Therapist

Synthleather = Vinyl

Viewport = Window

Cooling Unit = Air-conditioning

Honeydarter = Bee

Slythmonger = Drugdealer

Spice = Drugs

Stimpill = Caffeine pill

Power Socket = Plug

Cutters = Scissors

Cycle = Day

Standard Cycle = 24h

Standard Week = 5 days

Standard Month = 35 standard days

Standard Year = approx. ten months

Tenday = literally ten days

Cigarras/Smokes = Cigarettes

Click = Kilometer or 'a moment'

Parsec = a unit of distance

Tweezers/Clanker/tin head/tinnie = Droid

Separatist = Seppie

Promise Ring = Wedding Ring

Body Glove = Jumpsuit

Slicksuit = Wet suit

Civvies = Civilian clothing

Carbonite = a metal alloy used to freeze a person in a state of hibernation

Hyperdrive = device that allows a starship to travel faster than lightspeed

Moisture vaporator = device that can extract water from the air, commonly used on tatooine

Glareshades = Sunglasses

Gasser = Gas Oven

Repulsorlift = technology that can create an anti-gravity field and is used for levitating heavy objects

Heating unit = Heater

Utility Droid = Roomba

Sunbonnet = a Clone trooper helmet

Bad Batcher = a defective Clone Trooper

Banthabrain = birdbrain/ a stupid person

Bantha fodder = waste of space/nonsense

Blast! = word of exclamation

Blasted! = s.o in anger or annoyance

Blaster-brained = dimwitted

Blaster fodder = cannon fodder

Blast off = Piss off

Brainless = Stupid

Bug/Bugger = used to refer to Geonosians

Forceforsaken = godforsaken

Full of Poodoo = full of shit

Poodoo = Shit

Kriff = Fuck

Jedi scum = derogatory term for jedi

Kark = derogatory expletive

Larty = LAAT/i gunship

Laserbrain = insult

Meat droid = derogatory term for Clone Troopers

Redrobes = Palpatines guard

Rookie/Shinie = newly recruited Trooper

Scum = insult to refer to bounty hunters/rebels

Sharpie = Sharp-witted

Sithspawn/Sithspit/Hellspawn! = expletive

Sleemo = Slimeball

Son of a bantha = insult

Wizard! = Cool

Spaced = dead

Hutt-spawn = Bastard

Karabast = exclamation of dismay

Stang = Crap

Buckethead/Bucketbrain = derogatory term for Stormtroopers

Bucket = Helmet

Nat-born = Natural Born

Roger Roger = affirmative/copy that

Droid poppers = EMP grenade

Sitrep = short for situation report

Backwater Planet = any planet that isn't part of the core system

Holocron = device that can project a three-dimensional image of a person/object and is used for communication or entertainment.

Kessel Run = a risky Operation. Commonly used as a metaphor in impossible situations.

Thermal Detonator= device that can create a powerful explosion like a grenade or bomb

Ray Shield/Energy Shield = creates a (protective) barrier

Rebreather = device that allows a person to breathe underwater or in toxic environments

Phrases:

Wild goose chase = wild bantha chase

That's bantha shit = that's bullshit

As slippery as a greased Dug = untrustworthy

Credit for your thoughts = penny for your thoughts

Cut the poodoo = cut the crap

to get your gills in a twist = get upset about something

Holy mother of meteors = holy mother of god

Oh my skies/ Oh my stars = exclamation of surprise

Stars' end! = exclamation of disbelief

What in the blue blazes = exclamation

When Geonosis freezes over/When it snows on tatooine = extremely unlikely

Who pissed in your power supply = who pissed you off

Blast it = damn it

By the maker = exclamation of surprise

Great karking Dragon = expression of disbelief

Lothcat got your tongue = equivalent of 'cat got your tongue?'

Sod it = expression of frustration

#shitpost incoming #I'm converting my friend into a star wars fan so I thought why not make a dictionary for every new fic reader lmao #star wars #writing star wars #star wars languages #star wars lore #im definitely missing some but these are words I've seen most commonly used in fanfic #userlumi #writing star wars fic #aurebesh #galactic basic Standard #as long as one person finds this post helpful it was worth it #youre all welcome to add to it #im stopping now coz otherwise I'mma clog the dash

6K notes · View notes

varpusvaras · 10 months ago

Text

So Palpatine is found out to be the Sith and to having been playing the war on both sides.

The Senate is furious. They want to know how no one caught this earlier. They cannot admit that they didn't see anything, either, and were fully on board with almost everything Palpatine had said and done before. They cannot admit that they had been in the wrong.

They try to blame the Jedi. Some of it sticks, but not permanently, because the Jedi are like yo bro wtf we were on the battlefields for 99 percent of the time, we didn't have the time to stand there and stare at him, so they need to find even more scapegoats.

They turn to look at the Guard.

It's their job to protect the Republic! How did they not notice! They must've been in on it!

The Guard is like ????? okay sir first of all, we were too busy to be crawling around in the prisons and on the lower levels to ever even talk to the Chancellor during our entire lives, we weren't that important

But one of you has been reporting to the Chancellor. Doing his datawork for him. He must've noticed! How could he have not! Who was this one Guard!

It's Commander Fox.

The Senate wants to take Fox to the courts. But he is not there. The Guard goes Commander Fox who? Never heard of him. Are you sure that it's not just some ploy made by the Sith? Maybe he's someone who is just impersonating a Guard or something, we don't know. We have never had a Commander by that name in the Coruscant Guard

They interrogate the entire Guard for days, weeks. They all just say that there has never been a Commander Fox in the Guard. No one can find him. Commander Fox has never been seen without a helmet by anyone who is not a clone. They cannot verify who he is, if he is trying to hide among the other Guards

The Senate finds out that Commander Fox has brothers outside of the Guard. They bring them in. Cody and the others are just as confused by all of this as the rest of them. They know Fox exists. The Jedi keep reassuring them that everything will be okay if Fox comes forward, so they try to see if Fox is there. He is not. Cody goes to ask Thorn what is going on. Thorn looks him dead in the eyes and says he has never even heard of a Commander Fox before all of this. He just keeps staring at Cody with absolutely no expression when Cody tries to insist. No, never heard of Commander Fox before this. Are you sure you're okay Marshal Commander Sir? You've been in many close calls during the war. That scar looks rather nasty. Must've been quite a hit. Have you ever gone and checked it out? Could be a concussion.

Cody knows that Thorn knows that he got the scar on Kamino. Cody points this out. Thorn continues to look him in the eyes and flat out says no you didn't.

Cody looks at Thorn. Thorn looks at Cody.

Cody gives up.

All the other Guard Commanders say the same. To all of them. So do all the troopers, down to the newest shiny.

The Jedi try to go in and ask. It doesn't work. Their working theory is that being so close to the Sith has made them develope stronger mental shields. Maybe. Anyway no one is saying anything to them either. Yoda thinks this is hilarious. He keeps cackling behind his stick. Mace looks at him like bffr.

The Guard is firm in their stance. Commander Fox does not exist.

The Senate is still in an uproar about all of this. Bail looks at Padmé and Mon and goes you know what? I'm getting a headache from all of this. This is stupid. I'm going home. I suggest that all of you do the same. My wife said that we are renewing our vows and then taking another honeymoon. I'm going now goodbye.

Yeah, sure, Padmé and Mon say. They all pack up their things and go home the next day.

(The Organa family has a beautiful vacation home on the mountains. The sun is shining warmly but there is still snow at this time of the year. Some rare flowers are in the bloom amidst the ice on the rocky sides of the mountain. There's a view for a glacial lake from the front windows. The fire place is lit and the beds are warmed up and have thick blankets on them.

Fox sits in front of the fireplace, being sandwhiched between his wife and husband, and he looks out at the lake and takes a sip from the sugariest cup of hot chocolate that exists in the entire Galaxy.

Commander Fox does not exist.

Fox Organa does.

And he's on a vacation.

Please do not disturb)

#ain't there no snitches in the coruscant guard no sirree #fox is on his honeymoon #the hot chocolate has whipped cream sprinkles and marshmallows #he is wearing woolly socks and slippers #sw #tcw #Commander Fox #Commander Cody #Commander Thorn #Bail Organa #Breha Organa #Coruscant Guard #bail/breha/fox

535 notes · View notes

meebles · 6 months ago

Text

Several Sentence Sunday

I was tagged by @biscuityskies over a month ago, and I'm excited that I now have something to share! Thank you for the tag! This is another WIP for a @codywanfirstkissbingo fill, in which Cody and Obi-Wan end up forming their own little two-person bookclub to read a cheesy romance together :) here's the start of the lead-up to that:

“Those are my datapads.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t bother looking up from the requisition form he’s currently checking over. “Correct,” he says, waving a hand absently to shut his office door, having previously opened it to let his commander inside.

He can feel the irritation wafting off of Cody— purposefully, since Obi-Wan knows for a fact that Cody’s shielding is durasteel-clad should he wish it so— and bites back a smile. He signs the pad with a quick flourish of his finger, and sets it aside before looking up. When he does, he sees Cody reaching for the remaining stack of pads, which Obi-Wan quickly pulls through the air and into his own hands before Cody can grab them.

Cody huffs, but Obi-Wan doesn’t miss the barely-there twitch of his lips. “I don’t need you to do my datawork for me. Sir.”

“I know you don’t need me to, but I wanted to,” Obi-Wan shrugs. “I finished my own for the night, so I figured I might as well. I wanted you to have enough time for Waxer’s book club.”

Cody raises a brow at him. “I hadn’t realized you’d heard about that.”

Internally, Obi-Wan winces, afraid he’s overstepped. “They were talking about it in the mess. I know you like reading, and I know the two of you are close, so I just assumed. I apologize, if I— ”

“No, I— I do appreciate it, General, thank you. But I’m not going.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says, frowning. “Not interested in what they’re reading?”

Cody shakes his head, pulling over a chair and setting himself down. “No, it’s not that. I am actually interested in the book they chose, but it’s… ” Cody purses his lips, averting his gaze and staring into the middle distance behind Obi-Wan. “Everyone else who attends is of similar rank. My vode need some time away from the chain of authority, especially their commander. I don’t want to intrude.”

“Cody, I’m sure they would— ”

“I know they would let me join, if I asked. But I also know that bookclub is about 30% actually discussing the book, 70% drinking the starshine we don’t know about while shooting the shit.” Cody meets his eyes, shrugging. “It’s no big deal, really. We still spar and have our holo nights whenever the opportunity arises, but I want to let them have this.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan nods. “That’s very considerate of you, Cody. However, I’m still sorry that the nature of the situation prevents you from joining them, especially if it’s something you wanted to read.”

Cody shrugs again. “If I want to, I can just read it on my own. Unlike my datawork, however, which I cannot complete unless you actually give it back to— ”

He cuts himself off with a snort, shaking his head as he watches the stack rise towards the ceiling of the room, just out of reach. Obi-Wan grins, ridiculously pleased as always when he can pull a laugh out of the other man.

I'll tag @countryboyskywalker @petrifiedforests @anxiousotters @bluemaskedkarma @loverboy-havocboy @goddammitjim and anyone else who wants to play!

#star wars #codywan #cwfkb2025 #cwfkb #meebles writes

98 notes · View notes

adhd-coyote · 2 months ago

Note

Hello yes I am here with my Foxma agenda again! Gonna leave the prompt as dealer's choice though, so go nuts!!

Foxma is always a delicious flavor, so I am more than happy to help you with this agenda ;3

Fox stared at the empty caff machine. It did not stare back, but it didn't need to for Fox to understand how it was mocking him. Taunting him.

With a sigh, he started on the familiar motions of brewing another carafe. Might as well take a break from the endless datawork while he waited.

A knock on the door was what finally pulled his attention away from the tragedy of having a limited caff supply. Three short raps, a pattern that was slowly growing familiar. "Come in."

As expected, the door opened to reveal one of the Coruscant Guard's newest members. Fox turned to fully face him.

"Dogma. Have something for me?"

"Yes, sir," Dogma nodded, professional as ever, and hurried forward to hand him a 'pad. "I have those reports you wanted."

"Ah, thank you." Fox took the 'pad and skimmed it over. "That was faster than I expected."

Dogma half-shrugged. "You said you needed them soon. Just doing my job, sir."

"That you are." Fox set the datapad aside and offered a smile. "Caff? I've got some brewing."

"Ah- um, no thank you, sir."

"Suit yourself," Fox shrugged as he grabbed himself a fresh mug. He'd clean the other one later. "How are you settling in?"

The question seemed to surprise him, even if he tried to hide it. "Um, well? You all have been... welcoming."

Fox nodded, "Good. Transfer to Triple Zero can be rough for a Frontie. We do the best we can to help smooth the transition."

"You've done a good job, sir." Dogma shifted on his feet, almost imperceptibly. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

The caff maker dinged. Fox perked up and moved to fill his mug as he considered. "You've been helping quite a lot. Sure you don't want a break?"

"I'm okay, sir. I can assist with whatever you need."

Fox turned, caff mug in hand, and leaned against the table with a thoughtful hum. As he sipped, he took a moment to consider the former Frontie standing anxiously across from him. Dogma had been eager, almost desperate, to help since day one, despite anyone's insistence that he take a day to settle in and find his bearings. Fox had thought that putting him to work might help, but he still seemed as anxious and uncertain as before. That wouldn't do.

"C'mere." Fox set his caff down and motioned him over. Dogma obeyed, clearly nervous, and stopped just a foot or so away.

"Yes, sir?"

Slowly, projecting every movement, Fox slid a hand behind Dogma's neck, tugged him forward, and pressed a kiss to the scrunch in his brow. The confused noise Dogma made was honestly adorable, as was the way he simultaneously tensed and melted under the affection.

"You do not have to work yourself to exhaustion to earn your place here," Fox murmured against his forehead. He pulled back to look Dogma in the eyes. "You don't have to prove that you belong. You're a Corrie. That's all there is to it. Understand?"

Dogma's breath stuttered, but he nodded, eyes wide. "Y-Yes, sir. I understand."

"Good." Fox squeezed the back of his neck, then slid a hand down to pat his shoulder. "Go get some rest. I don't care if it's sleep or just laying in your bunk and staring at the ceiling. Okay?"

Dogma nodded once more. "Yes, sir. Is there, uh, a specific amount of time or...?"

"Until your next scheduled shift. Can you do that for me?"

"Uh, yes, sir."

"Good." Fox removed his hand, picked up his mug and the datapad Dogma had brought, and returned to his desk. "Go on, you're dismissed."

Dogma scurried out with one last nod. Fox sighed, exasperated and fond, and sat down. Caff break over, back to work.

These two are very fun to play with. Thanks for the ask!

Kiss ask game

#ask #kiss ask game #ask game #kiss prompt #my writing #cloneshipping #commander fox #clone trooper dogma #fox x dogma #foxma #star wars #the clone wars #clone troopers #fanfiction #tcw fanfic

61 notes · View notes

wantonlywindswept · 1 year ago

Text

forgotten fox ficbit

With Palpatine's dying breath, he curses Fox to be Forgotten.

(Fox isn't really bothered.)

---

There was a personnel transfer authorization sitting in Marshal Commander Thorn's crowded inbox.

He didn't remember requesting a fourth commander. The Guard was in desperate need of one following Thire finding Palpatine's wrinkled ass dead in his office, and the ensuing shitshow about the former Chancellor being a Sith and also controlling the war from both sides. Interim Chancellor Organa was incredibly competent and parsecs better than their previous natborn overlord, but even he was being swamped by the uproar in the Senate and the peace talks with the Separatists and the doubled amount of assassination attempts and the petabytes and petabytes of datawork--

Thorn couldn't remember requesting another commander, but he also couldn't remember the last time he slept.

Commander Vertex stood calm and at the ready on the other side of Thorn's desk, all-black helmet tucked under his arm as he waited patiently for Thorn to remember how to read. His hair was stark white, and there were vine-like scars wrapped around his neck that disappeared down into his blacks. The remnants of Sith lightning, Thorn knew, now that they'd been briefed on what that kind of thing looked like.

Vertex's file was sparse, mostly redacted, and marked him as coming from the Special Operations Brigade, which Thorn could entirely believe.

"This isn't part of an investigation, is it?" he blurted, brain-to-mouth filter entirely gone after five too many cups of caf and an inadvisable number of stims over the past month. "The Guard was already cleared of suspicion involving the former Chancellor's death--"

Vertex held up a hand. Thorn's mouth snapped shut.

"It's not," Vertex said, his voice firm, reassuring. There was something about it that made Thorn relax, as if his beleaguered hindbrain knew that the other commander had everything under control.

Spec Ops troops were amazing.

"The GAR is just reallocating resources given the recent upheaval," Vertex continued. Thorn nodded along like that all made sense. "I'm here to help with anything you need."

The word 'help' triggered a sudden burst of manic hope in Thorn's chest, and he lurched forward across his desk, grabbing Vertex's free hand in both of his own. The commander didn't even blink at the sudden movement, calmly meeting Thorn's wide, desperate eyes.

"Can you--" Thorn struggled to keep from sounding like he was begging, which he definitely was. "Can you do datawork?"

Vertex's sigh was entirely exasperated, and the roll of his eyes oddly, familiarly fond.

"Yes, Thorn. I can do your datawork."

---

Pt 2

#tcw #tcw fanfiction #commander fox #commander thorn #forgotten fox #yes i may have blacked out and word vomited forgotten fox bon appetit #basically reality is warped a little and everyone forgets fox even if his impact/actions were still there #the idea is the pov would be a little confusing and the changes hinted/explained over time #will i get around to writing more?#magic eight ball says 'lol'#thorn isn't dumb he is just exhausted #like 'i need sleep so badly i'm going to CRY' exhausted

256 notes · View notes

brawnsleloenigmadoublesonic · 5 months ago

Note

big big fan of bullying ultra magnus, aka, rodimus bullying ultra magnus while drunk and oh no Megatron is in on it too, now the big duly appointed enforcer is stuffed full of rodimus's arm while Megatron's got his cables hooked up in any way possible sending over all the charge he can and watches as Ultra Magnus tries to tell them to stop and no more and uh oh hes overloaded again and rodimus is starting to contemplate a second arm!! ! !

maybe rodimus is just locking the underside of his spike every few minutes to catch the dribble of transfluid and heheheheeeee

Maybe Megatrons saying so many dirty things to him while forcing Magnus to look down at rodimus and putting words in his mouth

"surely you want him to hm? so ready and wet for it, maybe later we can put him on your spike. I see the way you look at his spoiler, and his waist."

or hes just doing paperwork so efortlessly while making Ultra Magnus a weeping mess along with rodimus prodding at the back of his valve in more conentration than he has to ignore his own attenpts to do work!! !! !

i have more stuff to send cuz iiiiiii'm feeling like a freak.

YES we love this typa freak behavior! Get ultra magnus crying over his stupid desk and his stupid datawork. It's about damn time someone pulled the stick out of his aft! Megs keeping him from falling over on top of rodimus, holding magnus up against his chest and cooing at him. Maybe doing some of magnus' paperwork for him, just to add to the humiliation. It's soo embarrassing for magnus. He's so pent up he can't even take a little teasing?? Disgraceful! Good thing the captains are happy to take good care of him

#valveplug #idw ultra magnus #rodimags #megamags #megarod #megarodimags #inventing new ship names for this BULLSHIT #love it though

60 notes · View notes

sinisterexaggerator · 4 months ago

Text

As per my last e-mail.

Shriv Suurgav x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're up working late, Shriv's trying to rest, but your ill-timed email has sent him off the rails—couldn't this have waited until morning?!

Warnings: NSFW/18+ for PiV sex, blow jobs, snark and sass. Kissing, dirty humor, etc. etc.

Word count: 4.9k

Notes: Text in italics AND quotations is Shriv's inner thoughts. He self-monologues a lot, imho. This one is for @aloegator-arts in particular, as she requested something for Mr. Suurgav. It's about time, anyway! It's only been ... *checks calendar* over a year?!

Yes, e-mails exist in Star Wars. So does bingo.

Things were never easy. Why should they be? Then things would be too … easy.

Shriv’s mouth expressed all too readily the emotion he was feeling as he marched down the hallway toward your quarters. You had no idea he was on the way. It would be a surprise, just like you had surprised him with your electronic communique at this late hour.

Oh, so you thought he was asleep? Guess again. Shriv sometimes wondered if he’d ever have a proper rest at this rate, what with the Empire always breathing down his—their collective—neck(s). And it didn’t help that people like you were always on his case, it just made his job that much more difficult.

Why you had carbon copied the general was beyond him. Was he not trustworthy? Did you really think he couldn’t handle it? So what if a member of Danger Squadron had forgotten to sign off on their last intelligence briefing. He’d received it, they all had!

Point being, was it really worth bothering Calrissian? Now you had the caped courtier himself barking up the wrong end of Shriv’s figurative tree. Duro didn’t even have trees!

Well, not anymore.

In other words, he was riding his ass about his least favorite thing—datawork. He hadn’t been sure Lando even knew how to read, what with him always breaking every rule in the Rebellion’s playbook.

But, as it turned out, he did indeed. Something about leaving a “flimsi trail” should plans go awry in the field. Shriv knew all too well how important it was to hold people accountable—Lando just seemed to think he was above “the law,” therefore Shriv figured he should be forgiven for assuming otherwise.

And he was tired of getting blamed for other people’s kark ups! Sure, he was the officer in charge of that particular squad, but they were adults! Grown men and women that shouldn’t need him to hold their hands—not that he would—just to sign off on a couple of forms!

He had spent his entire walk thinking about all the things he was going to say to you, none of them nice, but the second he knocked on your door at 0200 hours, his mind went blank, the Duros grimacing in your face the moment you answered—but at least he had caught you off guard.

Good.

He imagined his mug might even keep you up tonight after he left, if he scowled hard enough, that is—Shriv, not being the prettiest by human standards. You already looked flustered. Hells, some folks were even scared of him, particularly those recruits forced to train under his command. He seemed to have a way with words, or so he was told.

Shriv would argue he just said things like they were. Sugar was for space babies, no reason to coat the truth in the stuff when he felt it would be doing a disservice. If you, or anyone else couldn’t handle the heat, it was just as well that they got out of the galley. But what Shriv wasn’t expecting was for you to open the door in nothing but your skivvies and a T-shirt, you thinking that this must be some kind of emergency for him to be here, lingering outside your humble residence—it was a small room about the same size as anyone else’s aboard the Restoration, though filled with a few of your personal effects.

“Shriv?” you asked, your voice a pretty melody to his lack of ears the way you said his name like that, your lovely eyes darting to and fro both behind and around him, looking for what the matter was while you attempted to catch your breath.

“Huh.”

“Uh—” was all he could think to say, wondering just when, and how, you had gotten so damn beautiful. “I got your e-mail. I wanted to—” The Duros cleared his throat, trying not to let his eyes trail down your waist, hips, legs … “—to, uh. Talk. Talk about—”

Little did he know that the human’s heart in front of him was beating just as fast as his, though he could sense you had an elevated temperature from the way your flesh changed colors. Shriv was now completely unaware of anything else besides your half-naked form before him. It was rather inconvenient when he was supposed to be upset.

You finally realized just what he was staring at, having been so engrossed in your previous ‘activity’ that you failed to notice you had forgotten to throw on pants. You thought surely for anyone to call at this late hour meant the situation was dire, yet here he was—Shriv Suurgav—one of the toughest, most hard-nosed officers of the Rebel Alliance stuttering outside your door.

He was also one of the most handsome.

Your blood had rushed to your cheeks, warming your skin. It was a well-kept secret you appreciated the Duros species as a whole, and him especially; his datawork was always so thorough and precise.

While others steered clear, you made it a point to travel the path Shriv took on the daily, keeping toward the back of the Restoration’s war room during briefings, recording everything that was said; every decision that was made, shamelessly watching his every move.

Besides, it was your job.

It was those times he left the ship that you were always worried sick. You didn’t want anyone to get hurt, least of all Shriv.

You couldn’t help but eavesdrop on any and all open channels, desperate for a word; to hear his voice; to know that he had come home safe, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine him searching you out, and over something that seemed so … trivial.

“You wanna … come in?” you asked, reaching out, your arm disappearing just out of Shriv’s periphery.

He was both a little disappointed and relieved when you draped a robe over your shoulders, watching as you folded both sides across your chest as if you had suddenly caught cold.

Did he want to come in? Should he? He supposed it was better than standing awkwardly out in the hall. “Yeah, OK.”

You moved a little to the left; Shriv stepped over your threshold; the door slid shut behind him.

Now that he was here, he felt he shouldn’t be.

“This could have waited until morning.”

“Well, so could her e-mail.”

“Can I get you anything? Caf?” you asked.

“I suppose so,” Shriv replied, not being able to help himself. “Guess you could use a little pick-me-up for all those e-mails you’re liable to send. Busy night and all.”

You arched a brow, turning toward your small kitchenette to gather two mugs from an overhanging cabinet. “Come again?” you queried; you had sent your last correspondence well over an hour ago.

Oh, that did it. Now Shriv remembered just how pissed he had been, how close to sleep he was, that little ding on his comm waking him right back up.

“Don’t play coy with me. You know what you did,” Suurgav said, his tone even and a little dry.

You set the caf cups down and turned around. He had more than piqued your curiosity. And to tell the truth, seeing him standing there, right in the center of your room was igniting your imagination, though you needed little help in that regard. “What’s this about?”

Shriv’s big red eyes traveled quickly from surface to surface; he turned his head to the left and right. You watched in fascination until he spotted that which he was after, the Duros stalking toward your bed.

Your own eyes widened in horror as he snatched up your datapad—the one not assigned to you for work. This was your personal, private datapad. It never left your room, so you always left it unlocked, never once thinking to add a password.

“Thiss. THIS is what—this—is about,” Shriv waved the device loosely in his hand. Then, he did the unthinkable. He opened it. “I was—this—close to falling asleep. And what do I get? A message from none other than little miss flimsi pusher.”

He held up the screen, not paying attention to what was actually brandished across its surface. Just then, a mortifying cacophony of noises rang out in the open: the sounds of moans and kissing, wet squelches, deep growls, and the rustling of sheets. It pervaded every corner of your small abode.

To top it off, Shriv had somehow turned the volume up when he meant to throw it across the room. He’d nearly fumbled it, only catching it—reluctantly—before the source of your ails hit solid ground. You had covered your mouth, completely humiliated, just as Suurgav brought it back up to his face.

“Oh, Zorkas.”

He had found your holo-romance. The one where the Duros was karking the human girl.

Well, not so much a romance as—

“How do I--?!”

Shriv didn’t finish his question, long blue fingers clumsily attempting to adjust the volume but to no avail. Seconds felt like hours. You finally collected yourself enough to rush forward, turning the damn thing off and tossing it far, far away; it landed in a pile of laundry you had forgone folding.

Then, you stared at each other. All was quiet when just a moment ago the girlish shrieks of a woman getting plowed by Duros dick had echoed loudly over every square inch of your apartment. The look Shriv gave you was one of intrigue, confusion, and shock. You did not think you would ever live this down.

“Well, that was interesting.”

Your eyes welled with unbidden tears; you could not control it. You had never felt more embarrassed in your life. Not only had someone found your private collection of pornography, but it had been him—the man you fancied. Before you knew it, you were crying of all things.

Could this night get any worse?! You seriously doubted it.

“Whoa, hey, it’s …” Shriv meant to say ‘all right,’ but he wasn’t entirely sure that it was, or that it ever would be again, not in the professional sense.

“How do you come back from that? I’d most likely have jumped out the air lock if I was in her shoes. Not that she’s wearing any.”

The fact Suurgav didn’t complete his sentence only made you cry harder. You wished to flee, to leave the room, but you had nowhere else to go—this was your quarters.

“Well, it isn’t that bad—I mean, I’d probably feel embarrassed, but it’s not the end of the—”

You turned your back on him; his words were not helping any.

“Ah, geez.” Shriv stepped forward and rested one of his hands atop your shoulder. “It could be worse, right? At least I’m the only one here and it wasn’t in the middle of a meeting or something … I won’t tell anyone,” he added.

This was the first time he had ever touched you. Sure, maybe you’d brushed arms in one of the narrow hallways, skirting past one another on the way to your respective destinations, but this was meant to be for the sake of comfort. Despite everything, you did not take it for granted. In fact, looking back, you would realize you took advantage.

You turned around; Shriv stepped back to give you space. You didn’t want space; you wanted to be closer.

You took a chance; you laid your head against his chest, your body mildly quaking with the release of every teardrop onto your soft cheeks. The Duros hesitated; you felt him stiffen. You nearly pulled away for fear of backlash, but instead he lifted both his arms and hugged you to himself, his embrace so careful it caused your heart to flit.

Rather than saying something reassuring, he felt he had to comment, bringing attention to the fact you had a type.

“Soooo …. A Duros, huh?”

Shriv wondered why he felt so comfortable embracing you; he had hardly ever spoken to you. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact you’d started it, or that maybe, just maybe, you might like him.

“Yeah, right. A girl like this? You’d only be so lucky.”

Shriv felt your shoulders harden; he felt the pounding of your heart. He heard the pathetic whimper you gave in response; you were shaking like a leaf. “I never meant for you to see that,” you whispered. “For anyone to see that. But especially not you.”

“Why ‘especially not me?’”

You cringed. You had just given yourself away.

Slowly, you lifted your head to peer up at him. He seemed entirely oblivious, though within the next few seconds he must have had some kind of epiphany, because his eyes lit up like a kid’s on Life Day. “You—you don’t mean to say—”

Kark it all—

—you kissed him, pushing up off of your bare feet to smash your lips against his. Shriv made a sound of surprise, or maybe it was protest. Whatever it may be, it caused you to second guess. You quickly withdrew, feeling worse off than before.

“I’m sorry,” you pleaded, backing into the counter of your kitchenette. Your own fingers lightly touched your lips, savoring the sensation that remained, notwithstanding the fact you had just thrown yourself at him. “It’s just that I like you,” you blurted out.

Stupid, stupid.

“Well, well, well, you were right, Shriv. Then again, you always are.”

“I mean, she pretty much laid it out for you with the whole Duros-porn thing.”

“You like me, or you like Duros?” Shriv questioned matter of fact. He watched as your bottom lip quivered, as if he had hurt your feelings.

“Good going, jerk. You should probably take what you can get.”

“Hey, it’s a valid question!”

“Both,” you meekly replied, knowing what it looked like.

“Hmm,” Shriv rumbled, taking a laggard step forward toward you. He pinned you in, reflective ruby eyes scanning your breasts up toward your face now that your robe had fallen open. “And just what is it that you like about me?”

You swallowed down your spit, feeling what those cadets must feel—intimidation—under his steady gaze. You wavered; you tried to peel your eyes away from his, but he took up your chin, pinching it lightly between his thumb and fore, causing a burning heat to spread in the seat of your belly.

“You’re—you’re funny; s-smart; witty.”

“Uh huh, go on,” Shriv prompted, leaning closer. So close that you could smell him. His scent reminded you of something earthy, or a like fresh rain back home. There was a hint of something else as well—was that Saffron? Musk? Akigalawood?

You decided to get personal.

“You’re underutilized. Lando hardly ever listens to you, but you have so many good ideas and things to say. You’re thorough, precise, and never compromise your principles for anyone, not even your superiors.”

“I—well—”

“You carry yourself with dignity, even in the face of danger. Your heart is made of gold, and your eyes are carved from gemstones.”

“You—you think so?”

You walked him back this time, levering yourself with the aid of your palms. Shriv stood up straighter, his grip faltering as you took the lead.

“You’re kind, selfless, courageous, sexy—”

“—I mean, I don’t know about all—”

“—and I wish that I could fuck you,” you whispered, grasping the side of his face that bore a scar. You peppered kisses along the corner of his mouth; they were slow and soft.

Shriv held his breath; something in him stirred.

Was he really all those things? And just why couldn’t he be? Maybe he was. You had said so, after all.

And it made him feel things, funny things, things he wasn’t sure he ought to feel. But you staring at him like that, kissing him like that—

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“That wasn’t on my bingo card,” the Duros quipped, “but it’d be rude to say no.” It wasn’t every day a gorgeous woman, and a human at that, desired to take him to bed. To turn you down would be asinine. Besides, why should Calrissian always be the one to score?

“I mean, originally I came here to yell at you, but now I’m not even really that angry anymo—”

Your arms encapsulated his neck; your lips engulfed his. Shriv remained calm, taking it all in stride. And he was proud of himself for that; he’d never felt this desired in all his days. It was a nice change of pace, he just hoped he could live up to that pedestal you’d put him on.

“Shriv,” you muttered, just wanting to say his name, just wanting to taste him, slipping your warm, human tongue inside his fang-filled mouth.

“Careful, those are—”

You moaned directly into the kiss, pushing deeper, grinding yourself against his uniform.

“—sharp,” Shriv mentally noted. It was all he could do. His thoughts were becoming clouded, he felt his own core temperature rising, feeding off your body heat. He was beginning to “wake up,” to truly comprehend just what he had gotten himself into, and you were hyperaware of everything apparently, because the moment he felt a twinge below the belt, your hand had found what caused it, making the Duros flinch under the weight of your palm.

“Careful with those, too,” Shriv remarked, though he admired your enthusiasm. It was obvious he had set something in motion because you pulled back just enough to stare directly at him—or through him—some kind of unreadable expression having overtaken your face.

If he weren’t already so turned on, he may have felt self-conscious, Shriv blinking a bit too rapidly. “Well, I-I-I mean, I won’t break …”

You dropped to your knees; Shriv’s eyes widened. You wasted no time in unbuttoning his trousers, desperate to see ‘things’ for yourself. You were so excited you could hardly contain your glee, nudging, kissing, biting the bulge that resided just beneath his boxers.

Boxers.

For some reason, you thought other species might wear different types of underwear.

“Are you sure you wanna—”

Shriv gasped as you slurped down one half of his hemi, it quickly devolving to a moan.

“Yep, ssssshe’s sure.”

It was like you already knew what to do; he wondered how many Duros you had been with before him, or if you just watched too much porn for your own good.

“That’s …”

“Karabast.”

Your tongue whorled around the slick, malleable column of one cock, while the other was caressed by your gentle, human fingers. Your cheeks hollowed as you danced around him, your sucking drawn-out and rhythmic, the pliant, wet muscle of your mouth treating fellatio the same way you had that passionate kiss.

Shriv didn’t know how long he was going to last, feeling so many sensations, all of them good—better than good. He felt like he needed to sit down, or his knees might buckle, struggling not to cum too soon so he didn’t just outright shame himself; it had been a minute since he had the time to even jerk himself off, he was so busy.

“You’re a marksman, Shriv. You’ve remained still for hours on end, waiting for a target that might not ever show—you can stay standing long enough to get your dick sucked.”

“S-sweetheart, you’re a little too good at thiss—I’m gonna—if you don’t ssslow down,” the Duros warned.

You felt something akin to cuteness aggression welling up inside you. Your nails clawed into his bare thighs. His lisp only made you suck him harder, faster, the sounds of his adorable moans reaching all the way down to your cunt; you were soaking wet.

“Whoa-kay, you’re not gonna—"

Shriv came despite himself, his second cock’s tip tightening around your fingers. It was prehensile, the movement reflexive; you were overjoyed to engorge yourself, swallowing every drop he had to give—it was sour, but a little sweet, and reminded you of candy.

You only allowed his prick to retreat from your mouth once he was spent.

Shriv ambled backward, though he managed to find the edge of your bed. You crawled forward on your hands and knees as the poor dear panted, watching with slight apprehension as you came closer.

“What are you …”

You latched onto his boots with both hands and took them off, one by one. Next, his socks were gone. You couldn’t help it and kissed his toes, all the way up to his ankles.

Shriv made a face, though nothing seemed to bother you.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He hated the idea of subjecting you to what he presumed were his stinky feet.

You only grinned, tugging his pants the rest of the way down, and off. You pressed your palms against his knees as you pushed up; Shriv watched you, still in recovery mode as he tried to predict what you’d do next.

“A lady of her word, are you?” Shriv breathed; your fingers tugged at his jacket, prying at the stop of his zipper. You pulled it down incrementally; Shriv smirked, realizing he was about to wind up completely naked, and he was OK with that.

“You next,” he said.

You were up and off him; you obeyed without question, removing your robe, your ratty T-shirt, to reveal your breasts in their full glory.

Shriv had nothing to say to that; he found he could no longer move his mouth, nor was his brain cooperating to help him form words of any kind, especially ones that were coherent.

“Uh—mm … heh,” he managed.

“Boobs. Wish we had those.”

“Well, not me personally. Duros.”

“Bet she wishes she had two … you know.”

“One’s just fine.”

Your panties were next; you shimmied them down your thighs, knees, shins, then kicked them off. You were a sight to behold and Suurgav was drinking you in like that cup of caf you’d offered.

Then again, he hadn’t actually had any. Things had gotten a little … offtrack since then, not that he was complaining any, and he did that a lot.

Shriv tested the waters; he wanted to see how much you might divulge to him. “You’re … really something. Beautiful. But I bet you hear that a lot,” he prompted. “Maybe from … other Duros,” he snuck in.

“Not at all smooth.”

Your mischievous grin softened into a smile. You shook your head then climbed on top of him. Shriv leaned backward and gazed up into your glimmering eyes with his of jasper, his horizontal pupils adjusting to the shadow your body cast.

The rebel pilot was unsure he would get anything more out of you, but he thought he’d just have to be content with that. To have you here, now, should be enough, though he dumbly seemed to form attachments way too soon, whether he would ever admit to it or not.

“No,” you whispered, your warm breath tickling his hearing organ; Shriv felt a shiver rake down his spine. “No one else has told me that in ages.”

“Oh, good.” Shriv thought that over. “I mean, not good that you haven’t heard it, because it’s true, but good that I’m the only one telling you.” Shriv thought it over a little more. “Not that I have to be the only one telling you or anything. You’re a grown woman who can make her own—”

Your smile stretched wider before your lips found his again. He was nervous, and it made you giddy to know you had that effect on him. It was as if all your dreams were coming true, thanks to a well-timed e-mail.

“—Fuck me,” you interrupted.

Shriv went quiet then. A moment passed before he spoke again. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered back.

It was as if he turned into a different Duros, the breadth of his palm cupping your face as he drew you in close to kiss. You leant over him, eager to return it, your breasts brushing against cool scales, causing your nipples to perk.

Shriv pinched one for good measure; you mildly gasped. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your open mouth, just as his secondary cock slithered up, up, pushing past the boundary of your sex to sequester itself deep inside the walls of your cunt.

“Shit, shit,” you intoned, your belly expanding and contracting rapidly as Shriv settled into you. It felt so fucking good; he spread you sooo fucking wide, so much so, that you belted out a sound of pleasure like that of the girl on your holo-romance.

“Are you all right? Or does it really feel that good,” Shriv asked, an iota of smugness lacing his tone.

You nodded, though it was up to him to figure out what you meant by that, yet you held your breath, urging your body to become accustomed to his girth, the shape of his phallus, the range of motion he could subject you to, your belly tightening once more as he curled his cock inside you, pressing against what he knew to be a very sensitive place.

Your breath caught in your lungs; your chest froze mid-inhalation. You came instantly, coating his dick in your warm excess.

Suddenly Shriv didn’t feel so bad for doing the same thing earlier, a twisted little smile upturning the corner of his mouth. “Is it always thiss easy?” he asked.

You shook your head in the negative; Shriv hummed a little “hmm.” He clamped onto your waist with his broad hands, thinking he could see his own protuberance inside you as he coiled once more against your G-spot.

“Fuck—” you muttered, falling forward onto your hands. Shriv wasted no time in lifting his hips, beginning to use the powerful muscles of his thighs to force you to ride him as your fingers dug into the arches of his shoulder blades.

“That’s what you wanted, right? To kark me?” Shriv asked playfully, nuzzling the flat of his face against the side of your ear. Everything, all of it, was too perfect, so you wept. Shriv felt a drop of something moist and warm pelt his cheek.

He stopped. “Hey, hey—does it hurt?” he asked, concerned.

You shook your head again. “Don’t stop,” you begged.

Shriv, somewhat uneasily, abided by your order, though the crease of his brow remained fixed—that was until you orgasmed a second time.

“Shriv … I’ve fantasized about this so many times,” you admitted, though you did not confess of your own volition—it was the fault of your emotions, of your brain, overwhelmed by sensation, by smell.

Shriv reached up and pushed a loose strand of your hair away from your face, though the motion of his hips never ceased; it was slow and resolute, his other hand gliding down your hip to sneak its way between your thighs.

“A good fantasy, right?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer, the tips of his lengthy index and middle fingers brushing against the top of your clit before they slid down to massage it; he worked the little nub with as much precision as he did his datawork.

“Like heaven,” you murmured, finding yourself, once more taking control of your body to undulate your hips in line with his. Shriv’s face softened; he closed his eyes. He was focused on a feeling, chasing his own high as he continued to trace a pattern over your delicate nerve-endings, your cunt clenching around the width of his cock.

“Just like that,” you coaxed, riding him as gingerly as his touch was thoughtful, Shriv closing his mouth entirely, not having a single smartassed comment left in his arsenal, only a tight-lipped admonition.

“Thiss is dangerous,” he cautioned. “I know something about danger,” he affirmed, though his mind was elsewhere, drifting, drifting …

“Don’t cum inside, don’t cum inside, don’t cum inside,”

“Come inside me,”

“Fierfek.”

You felt a cool rush, the frisson of something filling you, the sudden surge of Shriv’s ejaculate coating your insides as you had willed it to. You rode him to completion, the Duros gripping you tightly, clasping you to himself like some cherished object, the feeling of his heart thumping against his ribs echoing through you, matching pace with your own.

Once finished, you slowly rose, the sticky, wet sheen drifting down your legs to leave marks on your sheets. You collapsed on top of him; Suurgav would allow you to remain, ever so subtly pulling you in more closely.

“This is not how I expected my night to go,” Shriv chortled wryly. “I expected the exact opposite, in fact.” The Duros tilted his head so as to look down at your prone form. “Maybe you won’t try to sass me anymore, hm?”

You gave an involuntary yawn. “As long as you do what you’re supposed to do.”

“And what, pray tell, is that?” Shriv asked a little too snidely.

You couldn’t help but to smile as you started to nod off; it was hard not to feel safe and protected in his big, strong arms.

“As per my last e-mail…” you said, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

#Shriv Suurgav #Shriv x Reader #Shriv Suurgav x Reader #Fem!Reader #x you #x reader #Star Wars #Star Wars Battlefront 2 #Battlefront 2 #BF2 #Duros #Star Wars smut #Rebel Alliance #Alliance to Restore the Republic #Lando Calrissian mention #Reader insert #My writing #fanfiction

42 notes · View notes

kookyburrowing · 1 year ago

Text

My first piece for @swartists4palestine! I’m calling it “Rage the Tooka”, and it was written for @indistinctchatt3r. Hope you enjoy!! (I did include Codywan but it’s more implied than anything else.)

Cody stares at it. It stares back. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

It screeches and lunges at his face.

This is when he discovers it has claws. By the time he has pried it off of him, he’s bleeding from several places.

It meeps indignantly as he lifts it up by the armpits. Leg pits? It’s a quadruped. The thing is…well, it’s fluffy. It’s cute, when it’s not trying to rip his skin off, or maybe even then. “You remind me of Rex,” he tells it. “When he was four and decided biting was an affectionate thing.”

It meeps again and tilts its head before attacking again. Cody rips it off. Again.

It meeps and attempts a third attack. This is unacceptable.

Cody must regroup.

“You adopted a tooka,” Rex says.

“Yes.”

Even over comms, Cody can tell he’s holding back laughter.

“What did you name it?”

Cody is not here. Cody had absconded.

“You didn’t name it?”

Not here. Never not at all—

“I’m calling Seventeen,” Rex says, like the little brat snitch he is, and hangs up.

Naturally, Cody panics immediately and intensely. Seventeen is as close as he has to a parent. For such a horrible mistake as leaving a living being in one’s care nameless, he will be slaughtered without mercy.

He can only pray it will be a swift death.

Of course just as he thinks this, his comm chimes. The tooka blinks irritably at him as he answers it.

It arrives at its destination (his face) with much screeching as soon as he speaks.

Seventeen takes this in blankly. “Help,” Cody says.

“I know what you should name it,” is all Seventeen says. His voice is as amused as it ever is, which is to say not very.

“What?”

“Ridaan.”

“I can’t name it Rage,” Cody huffs. The tooka immediately tries to bite his ear off. “Never mind, that’s perfect.”

Seventeen snorts. “Have fun, ad’ika,” he says, and cuts the call.

Cody looks at Ridaan. Ridaan mrrps. “Oh,” Cody says. “So now you’re calm.”

The problem with Kenobi is that he wants to know things he is not allowed to know, such as Cody’s mother tongue. So of course he jumps at the chance to ask such questions when they’re doing datawork and Ridaan takes her chance to attempt murder.

Except instead of going for him, she goes for Kenobi. Cody panics, obviously, because he has grown grudgingly fond of Ridaan’s antics and he doesn’t want her taken away, and thus yells, “RAGE! STOP!”

Only judging by Kenobi’s face, he didn’t call her rage.

He called her Ridaan.

“Oh shit,” he manages. Ridaan, tucked firmly in Cody’s arms, meeps concernedly.

“And who is this?” Kenobi says, diverting the conversation quickly. He probably sensed Cody’s panic in the Force.

Bastard.

“Her name is Rage,” Cody says. He offers her. Kenobi reaches.

Ridaan meeps, and for the first time since Cody has had her she escapes him not to commit horrific acts of violence but to curl up in Kenobi’s arms, purring. He scratches her ears.

“She’s lovely,” Kenobi says warmly.

Cody can’t stop staring. “She likes you,” he murmurs. “I can’t believe it.”

Kenobi smiles at him. “Why, because it’s me?”

“She likes me, and she likes Rex,” Cody tells him bluntly. “No one else.”

“I suppose that’s a good mark for my character, then?”

Cody meets his eyes and cracks a smile of his own. “Yeah,” he says. “Very good.”

#lee does writing #writers for palestine #star wars #tcw #commander cody #obi-wan kenobi #codywan

206 notes · View notes

lbibliophile-sw · 8 months ago

Text

Proof of ID

Also on AO3 [710w] @ailesswhumptober - day 20: accidental de-aging, "I'm not qualified for this shit" @corrieweek - day 3: "you shouldn't be here"

Fox lets himself slump as he climbs into the covered Guard speeder, finally escaping the top-priority meeting on… whatever it was. Thorn and Thire were also there – a waste, of resources, honestly, thankfully Stone was able to escape – so they can catch him up on anything actually important. It’s not like the natborns listen to their advice half the time anyway.

“Hey Fox, are you ok? Only, you were quieter than usual in there.”

“’m fine, Thire. Just tired.”

And he is, down to his bones. The sort of tired that comes from a multi-day blackout mission that has him ‘waking up’ only to face the entirety of his usual gruelling double shift ahead of him. He wants nothing more than to collapse on his bunk for a solid six hours, but instead, he has meetings, and datawork backlog, and whatever else comes up… Just the mere thought is enough for him to remove his helmet and rub at his aching eyes.

“Trooper!” Fox stiffens reflexively at Thorn’s Command voice, despite having spent the past two years as the highest-ranked clone on-planet. “Why are you wearing Commander Fox’s armour?”

Fox blinks at him, struggling to push his sluggish brain into gear. Why… is he wearing… his armour? Because it’s his? And he’s on duty?

“Oh! Is Fox alright? I mean, obviously not, since he sent you in his place. But I’m assuming he’s with Zontal? Or wait, is he not all back yet after the blackout? It has been longer than usual so I guess that might be a struggle.”

What?

“I have to say, you did a pretty good job of copying his body language. Until you took the helmet off, I really did think that it was just Fox having an off day; most people wouldn’t have noticed anything at all! How would you feel about being on call for a repeat performance? Anything to get Fox to rest occasionally.”

“Thire!” Thorn finally forces his way through the babbling. “Just, shut up. And you’re going straight to bunk when we get back, your triple-shift is showing. Now, Trooper, sitrep. And your name.”

“Uh, Fox?” It shouldn’t sound like a question – his name is the one answer he does have right now – but shouldn’t they know it too?

“It’s ok, you don’t have to keep pretending here. We sweep the speeders for bugs, and we already know you’re covering for him, besides –”

“Thire, enough. Let the shiny speak.”

“I’m not a shiny.” Thorn snorts.

“Maybe not a shiny, then. But you still can’t be more than, what, eight? Nine at a stretch?”

“I’m thirteen. I’m Fox. And you’re being mean. If this is revenge for saving your shebs when you tried to block that Senator’s access because you thought she was her own daughter…”

“What did you just say? No, seriously, I made Fox swear to never tell anyone about that.”

“I keep telling you I am Fox. Why won’t you believe me?”

“Ok. Ok. So, not body doubles, but Force osik. Maybe.” Thorn rummages in his belt pouches as he mutters to himself, finally pulling out some sort of case with a bright metal finish. “Here. I’m having a hard time believing you, because this is what you look like right now.”

Fox takes the case, holding it up so the smooth surface shows his reflection. He twists it back and forwards just to make sure. He raises his free hand to trace the smooth skin of his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, watching the movement in the improvised mirror.

“Thorn. Thorn, someone stole my face.”

Thire reaches back to awkwardly pat him on the knee.

“Look on the bright side, at least you still have your helmet. You keep it on most of the time anyway.”

“But it was my face!”

“Alrighty,” Thorn interrupts the impeding meltdown. He is in a speeder with three-quarters of Coruscant Guard Command, he should not be having flashbacks to Kamino and cadet-duty. “I’m driving us back to base. Then you two are going to go to sleep, while I have an adult conversation with Zontal to try and figure this out. Any further discussion can wait until after those steps are completed. Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“Yes Thorn.”

#and yes by 8 i mean fox is ~17 #but he is struggling and can currently afford to show it #corrie week #if posted belatedly #ai-less whumptober #day 20 #deaging #commander fox #commander thire #commander thorn #bingo fill #ficlet #fanfic

56 notes · View notes

thatonefanficwriternooneknows · 5 months ago

Text

FoxQuin Week Day 4: Asexual/Aromantic Characters

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening Night!

I am so happy with everyone liking and reblogging my fics <3 it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside that you all like them so much!

So without more nonsense, here is Day 4! Asexual/Aromantic characters and "The GAR is not the same as the GAR, General"

I would also like to preface this with the fact that my wife and I are both asexual and the feelings depicted in this little fic, both from Fox and Quinlan are things we've both felt very often :D

“So, Obi-wan tells me that sex is kind of a big thing for Vode, is that like, a GAR thing or is it true for all troopers?” Quinlan asked randomly on one of the days he was helping Fox with the truly unmanageable levels of datawork the poor Commander had to do.

Clearly it was not asked correctly because Foxy just froze.

Slowly Fox raised his head to look at Quinlan, brows furrowed and mouth downturned.

“Why are you asking?”

Quinlan laughed, mostly to watch as Fox visibly untensed, and shook his head.

“Foxy, we’ve been on so many dates at this point, I honestly expected you to jump my bones by now.” Quinlan shrugged it off.

It was no skin off his back.

Fox was a looker, that was no lie, but Quinlan never really felt the need to engage in sexual acts outside of the one-off honeypot that he’d accepted before the war. Honestly cuddling was more than enough for this Jedi, thank you.

But the Commander was chewing on his bottom lip now, something Quinlan had honestly only ever seen him do once or twice in the year and a half that he’s known him.

There was some kind of mine here that Quinlan unknowingly stepped in.

He waited.

Fox was the kind of being that had to think his thoughts around a few times before finally settling on actually saying something. So, Quinlan just kept filling out ridiculous forms for even more ridiculous Senators.

“You know,” Fox started, and Quinlan gave him his full attention (like he deserved), “that this is my first…relationship.”

Pretty amber eyes flicked up to lock with Quinlan’s before flicking back to his own datawork. So Quinlan hummed his agreement.

“Honestly, you call them dates, but to me…it’s very similar to just…spending time together. I don’t understand the need? To have sex, or sex acts, or anything really beyond holding hands or cuddling or hugging.”

Quinlan nodded along, smiling as Fox started to wave his hands around the more he spoke. (So cute.)

“And I know how it works, sex, but like, I don’t understand? No one explained to me what attraction was, physical or otherwise. I like spending time with you, I like holding your hand, I like cuddling when we get the chance. Is that what a relationship is? Is that romance?” Fox trailed off, eyes flicking to and from Quinlan like he was afraid Quinlan was going to react badly.

Jokes on him.

Quinlan never reacts badly to anything Fox tells him.

(Except for that one time with the Senator and honestly, it’s better left in the past.)

“It could be if you want it to.”

Fox held back a strangled groan and Quinlan laughed.

“I’m serious, Foxy. We don’t need to have a label or anything, I know you like spending time with me as much as I like spending time with you. Personally, I am indifferent to sex, I just brought it up because Obi-wan could not shut up about how much his Commander wants him, all the time!”

Fox deadpanned back and Quinlan (it was his favorite look) before grumbling and filling out more datawork.

“The Guard is not the same as the GAR, General. Especially not that di’kut, Cody.” Fox snarled.

“Oohh, General-ed. Sorry Foxy. Innocent curiosity, I swear.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious!”

“Uh huh.”

“Foxy!”

“Whatever you say, Vos.”

“So mean!”

“Maybe don’t compare the Guard to the GAR next time.”

“I swear! I’ve learned from my mistake, never again Foxy!”

“Fine. But you’re on thin fucking ice, Quinlan.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“Hmph.”

#star wars #commander fox #coruscant guard #quinfox #foxquinweek 2025 #foxquinweek #foxquinweek2025 #Quinlan Vos

26 notes · View notes

consw · 15 days ago

Text

pipe dreams like surviving

Thorn & Stone & Thire & Fox

Gen, no warnings

Read on AO3 (1,074 words) Read on Tumblr ↓

"After,” Thorn pauses, as if considering whether or not to say the next part. “If we survive to the end of the war, what’s one thing you’d like to do?”

In their shared office, on one of the few shifts that all the Coruscant Guard commanders have together, Thire looks up at Thorn, expression considering. Fox lets out a short huff of air but doesn’t look up from his datapad. It’s Stone who answers first. “I’d like to get off this kark bucket of a planet and live somewhere by a river, or in a forest, maybe on Alderaan. I don't want to deal with people.”

Thorn nods along and looks at Thire next. “What about you?“

“It’s a good question,” Thire says, still thinking about what to say. “I don’t think I still want to do the things I dreamed about doing in my cadet years.”

Thorn softens a little bit. “It doesn’t have to be something big, just any one thing you’d want to do.”

Thire thinks for a moment longer before letting out half a laugh. “I‘d want to kill a senator and get away with it,” he says with a smirk.

Stone and Thorn make noises of agreement and Fox finally looks up from his datapad, raises his mug at Thire and says, “I’ll drink to that,” before taking a large swig of his lukewarm caf.

Thire continues, “I mean, without the Guard, who’d investigate it? CSF?” Stone snorts at that. Thire leans back in his chair with a smile as if daydreaming about it.

“And what about you, Fox?” Thorn asks before Fox can pick up his datapad again.

Fox grimaces a little. “After the war…” Thorn winces. He tried not to use that exact phrasing. “I’ll be honest, I think even if the war ended,” If, not when, Thorn notes, “The Coruscant Guard would have to keep working.” Something heavy settles onto his shoulders as he says that. “We practically run this planet. The Senate Guard is ceremonial at best, the CSF is a joke, and even the prisons alone would take ages to fill with all natborn staff,” Fox continues. “And it wouldn’t just take time, but money. I bet the Senate would rather keep the staff they don’t have to pay.”

Thire sits back up and closes his eyes. Stone thumps his head down onto his desk. Thorn can feel the despair starting to creep into the room. So much for a lighthearted question to cheer them up.

Fox sees Stone’s head hit his desk and he tries to console him a little. “Stone, even if you don’t get to live there, you’ll probably at least be able to see a forest and river on one of your escort missions.” Fox huffs a self-deprecating laugh. “The only way I’m getting off Coruscant is in a body bag.”

Thorn can't stand the depressive mood any longer and he stands up, making Fox turn to look at him. He walks over to Fox’s desk and looks him in the eye. “Take my next escort mission. You should get to see at least one planet other than Kamino, Coruscant, or Geonosis.”

Fox is about to protest, but Thorn continues. “You can do datawork in hyperspace, you can tell the Chancellor ahead of time that you’ll be unavailable, and we can take your shifts. We’re commanders too, after all. We can keep the Guard running for a tenday without you.”

Fox looks like he’s seriously considering taking the mission. Thorn counts that as a win. “Who are we escorting?” Fox asks.

“Amidala.” Amidala is one of the better senators, and he’s not sure if that will make Fox more or less likely to accept. The hardest part of this mission isn’t dealing with the senator they’re escorting, however, it’s that they’re going to the headquarters of the Intergalactic Banking Clans while the clans are currently being prosecuted for corruption, and having a former senator who was removed from his position go with Amidala to be instated as the new head of the clans. Amidala has a habit of getting into trouble, and there's already been an assassination attempt on her on this specific planet not a tenday ago. Thorn genuinely doesn't know how she's still alive when this many people have tried to kill her.

Fox pulls a face. “General Skywalker really doesn’t like me right now. I think he’d be unhappy with me anywhere near Senator Amidala. I’d rather avoid any more incidents with him.” The other commanders exchange glances but don’t say anything. They still haven’t really talked about the Fives incident. Fox did what he had to, probably. There’s some things in the Guard that are easier not to talk about.

Thorn sighs. “Then take whatever my next escort mission is after that. Good or bad, it’ll at least be somewhere new for you.” Fox deserves to see the universe, to not die on this shitty planet without having known anything else.

“We’ll see.” Fox hums noncommittally. Thorn will bring it up some other time. At least he got their minds off the depressing future outlook of the Corries. It's not something Thorn likes to think about. He tries to avoid it when he can.

It's the kind of thought that leads to dead troopers. If nothing will ever get better, then why bother continuing at all? There's no good rebuttal for that, not for a Corrie. Thorn keeps going because he has to, simple as that. He knows it's the same for the other commanders. Without any one of them there, more troopers would die. It's their job to save as many as they can.

Thorn glances around to see that the other commanders have already gotten back to work. Thorn hates datawork. He’d much rather be shooting at something, but that's what most clones would rather be doing. It's what they were trained for, not this.

Thorn takes a long look at each of their faces, focused on screens as they are. Who knows the next time they’ll all be in the same room for a non-emergency?

But he sighs and turns back on his datapad to finish reading the report of the senate vote earlier that day, which resulted in Rush Clovis’ appointment as the new head of the Intergalactic Banking Clans. He needs to at least get through this document, if nothing else. After all, he’s escorting Clovis and Amidala to Scipio tomorrow.

#tcw fic #tcw fanfiction #clone wars fanfiction #coruscant guard #commander thorn #commander fox #commander fox fic #commander stone #commander thire #corries #scipio #consw writes #hi so this is the first fic i've ever posted #the first one to escape the drafts...

18 notes · View notes

ladylucksrogue · 1 month ago

Note

Hi! Could I ask for Foxiyo with 23 "this reminded me of you" for the fluff prompts pls??? ❤️

Whisky! Thank you so much for the request ❤️

Hope you enjoy it!

Written for the prompt "This reminded me of you"

Fox is cleaning out his office, the same office that he spent the entire war working from and it brings up a lot of emotions and feelings, plus a few things he'd completely forgotten about.

Also on A03

This ended up being way longer and more complex than I anticipated 🤣 There's a bunch of literary references in here, see end notes. Whether this is set in my fix it universe or just a general happier post war universe is reader's choice.

There's a touch of spice, suggestive stuff, but nothing explicit, nothing worthy to bump the rating up.

The office was already half empty, a disaster zone really.

Boxes sat in the corner, full of neatly stacked files, old comm logs, datapads, his life and energy bled into them. Fox had never owned much. None of them did really, but as he cleared out drawer after drawer, he kept muttering under his breath, “Didn’t think I’d accumulated all of this.”

Two full boxes of things he couldn’t part with. It felt excessive. Riyo didn’t comment, just helped, sleeves rolled in that purposeful way of hers.

Fox paused in front of the shelves lining the back wall, the room felt wrong, echoed. The wall behind him still had the discoloration where his sector map had been pinned for years. His bunk was gone, just the mark on the floor where it used to sit, lockers were gone too.

He’d lived in this room, slept in it. Sat at the desk that was still there, read things the Senate would never approve for public record, blackmail, trafficking, questionable deaths buried as “training accidents.” Reports so vile they were locked from public record. Rot, buried so deep he couldn’t even put it into words at times. Case files detailing the exploitation of his brothers, corruption spiraling out of control. He’d worked shifts in here for days, forgetting what anything outside these walls looked like.

He’d lived here. This place, where he’d lost any illusion about the Republic being clean, where he’d first realized how disposable they really were.

He’d sat at this very desk when the Zillo beast broke containment without a single damn warning. He’d buried brothers from this desk, via datawork at least, buried pieces of himself, too.

He’d watched the Republic fracture here, slow and jagged as Palpatine, the Republic’s symbol of unity, of order, had turned out to be the one orchestrating the fall from the very start.

Fox rubbed at his face. His scar itched when he was tired and he was somewhere beyond that.

And yet, some of his best memories had happened in this same room.

Riyo had kissed him here the first time, not at all tentative but with a certainty, like she’d already made the decision. She’d stepped into his space, reached up, and laid her mouth against his for the first time.

It hadn’t made sense, nothing about it did. She’d blurred every line with every visit. Every touch that lingered longer than it should’ve, when she looked past the armor, past the title, straight through him.

She’d unraveled him, the real him bit by bit.

The guilt had clawed at him initially, like he was sneaking her in under cover of night, breaking rules of society itself. As if someone like her, a senator, brilliant, beautiful, respected and entirely above him could ever want this for more than a night. Like she’d regret him, but she hadn’t.

And the one night, when she’d touched him, fingers running through his hair, down the line of his back, lips brushing across scars, he’d felt alive. He’d rolled above her, breathless and desperate, she met him, matched him. Gasped his name against his mouth like he mattered to her.

After, she’d curled up with him in his bunk, really too small for the two of them. She’d traced his back like she meant to memorize it. She’d stayed, one leg slung over his hip.

He hadn’t slept more than four hours at a time in months but that night, he slept like he had nothing left to run from.

This was the place where everything cracked open, where she became real. He let himself want , and she stopped being a fantasy. He’d let himself believe, just once, that maybe he was allowed to have this…

Now everything here, all of it, was being taken, to be discarded or packed into crates and wheeled across the city. Most of it bound for the archives, just another dark, unsearchable footnote in the long, bloody history of the Republic.

The new GAR Liaison office was shiny and soulless. All clean lines and bright lights that never flickered. Polished and expensive. There was a caf machine that actually worked. And windows. By every objective measure, it was an improvement.

A proper title, a proper office, a real place in the new world. Clones had rights now. Legal protections. Access to benefits they were once denied. It was progress.

He could walk down the hall and nod to senators on nearly equal footing. He could speak at meetings without having to pretend he was only there for security. His reports would be read.

He didn’t have to hide her anymore. He didn’t have to take the long way around just to avoid the cams, or sneak into her apartment, didn’t have to lie to his own men when they asked where he spent his nights.

The stunning Pantoran senator who used to slip into his office like a secret wasn’t a secret anymore. He could kiss her in public if he wanted to.

Sometimes he wondered if he’d died in the aftermath of it all, and all of this was really just a dream, a last frazzling of overtaxed nerves and hallucinations.

He shook himself from his thoughts, lest she realize he’d been holding the same file for a better part of five minutes.

Riyo had moved on to the shelves he’d cleared. Most of them had been packed with boxes of records, datapads, standard reports. Now, stripped of clutter, she saw them, his books. She hadn’t noticed them before. Not all of them, just the occasional one, here or there left near his bunk or stacked beside a datapad.

He’d borrowed books from her over the years, casually. She remembered how once, he’d turned over the cover of one of her favorites, flipped through, intrigued by her annotations. He’d returned it two days later, more than a little amused by her takeaways.

They’d bonded over that in the beginning. Her shelves had always drawn his attention. She just hadn’t realized he’d built a collection of his own.

She brushed her fingers along the spines of them. “You’ve been hiding a collection,” she said, amused. “In all the time I’ve spent in this office, I never realized how many of these you had.”

Fox didn’t look up. “They were going to be thrown out,” he said, offhand. “We salvaged what we could. Divvied up the crates across the battalion.”

Riyo raised a brow. “You make it sound like you all split up a secret archive.”

“More or less,” he said, sealing a crate.

She laughed under her breath. “You may be the most well-read battalion in the GAR.”

He scoffed. “Doubtful.”

She flipped open the one in her hand, a Tol’Soy volume, one of three in the stack. “You’ve got quite a bit of Tol’Soy here. You may have a thing for dense literary tragedy, don’t you?” She glanced over her shoulder, smiling. “Why am I not surprised?”

Fox flashed her a dry look. “It’s good.”

Riyo set that one aside and pulling the next free. " Don Qui’xot . Of course. High drama and footnotes.”

The next she pulled was one familiar to her, one of the few surviving Taung epics translated into Basic.

“I had to read this in a comparative literature course. I think I lost a full week of sleep over it.” She lamented.

Fox glanced her way again.

She flipped through the pages. “The whole thing read like it wanted to punish you for even trying to understand it.”

“I read it twice.”

She blinked, looked up at him. “You read this on purpose? For fun?” she teased.

He just shrugged.

Riyo gave him a longer look, trying to read the space behind the comment. He was just watching her thumb through the book.

She smiled faintly. “I remember thinking it was relentless. Everyone made sacrifices, and no one got peace. It was exhausting. But…” she hesitated, fingers brushing the crease of a page, “it stuck with me.”

“I didn’t enjoy it,” she added quietly.

Fox nodded once. “It certainly didn’t hesitate to make clear that there’s no clear good and evil. With a lot of pain and purpose and that some things are worth dying for.” He shrugged. “Or worth living through.”

Riyo hummed at that, thoughtful. She didn’t say anything right away.

He glanced at her slyly. “You’re acting like you didn’t ace the assignment. You gave a lecture, didn’t you?”

Riyo huffed. “It wasn’t a lecture.”

“You stood up in front of your group with a thesis and a diagram.”

She gave him a look. They both knew the answer without her saying it. They shared a smile, hers fond, his just as fond, if a bit faint and tired.

Something slipped from between the pages. A brittle little thing that drifted down and landed gently on her leg.

It was a dried flower. Purple, its shape still delicate and clear despite the time pressed between pages.

Fox stilled, tilted his head, then he swore under his breath. “So that’s where it ended up.”

Riyo picked it up carefully. “You put this here?”

He looked annoyed, but not at her, more at himself.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “It was... back when we were still just meeting for caf. The time we met on the Senate roof. You had your hair down that day.”

He said it so offhand it caught her off guard.

Her brows lifted. “That was… the third time we met?”

“Fourth,” Fox said without missing a beat.

He didn’t look at her. “I meant to press it in plastic.” He did glance over then, almost wry. “Maybe make it into a bookmark. I don’t know.”

He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, almost dismissive.

“It reminded me of you,” he said finally. “Your hair.” He scoffed at himself, shaking his head. “Obviously nothing came of it. I forgot about it.”

Riyo didn’t say anything, she couldn’t through everything she was feeling, how her heart was pounding, but she smiled, tried to keep the shake out of her hands as she slid the flower gently back between the pages. She set the book carefully to the side.

Fox sighed and stood, glancing around, as if a look would tell him all they had left to do.

“Let’s get the rest packed up,” he said, already reaching for another box.

Later, after the last crate was sealed and the room finally truly felt empty, they sat on the floor and took a break, caf in hand.

Fox leaned back against the desk leg, legs stretched out in front of him. He watched her as she held the book, her eyes on a distant spot as if lost in thought.

She noticed at some point, glanced in his direction.

“What?” she asked.

He didn’t answer.

“You always look at me like that,” she said. “Like you’re still surprised I’m here.” She said almost teasing. She couldn’t actually know the truth to those words. “What are you thinking?”

He dodged the question. “That if I don’t get more caf, I might fall asleep right here.”

She didn’t let it slide. “Fox...”

He exhaled slowly, the breath pulling something loose in his chest.

“All of this. Everything.” He glanced around the room. “Sometimes I can’t help but think... that I don’t deserve this. Any of it.”

Riyo set the book aside without a word, as if she understood, and maybe she did. She crossed the space between them and slipped into his arms. Her chin came to rest against his shoulder.

“This is really getting to you, all the change?”

He shook his head again, glanced away, but her hand touched his face and she met his eyes.

“I love you,” she said. “Even when you try to push it away.”

His arm came around her, held her tighter. His throat moved as he swallowed, his jaw tensed like he was fighting the urge to argue.

“I might see more in you than you’re capable of seeing in yourself right now,” she continued. “You see what you think are all the mistakes right now, the compromises or the people were hurt.” They were hard words to hear but true. “But I hope with time, you’ll see there is so much more there.”

She kissed his cheek. “I also see the man who picked a flower that matched my hair and meant to turn it into something. That means more to me than any grand gesture or pretty words.”

Her hand brushed gently against his cheek. “No one’s ever done that for me.”

He didn’t speak, couldn’t, but he held her there like he meant it , rested his head against hers.

“That said…” she said and he could hear the smile in her voice now, “I still want whatever you were going to make.”

Fox’s thumbs brushed along the edges of her cheek tattoos as he met her eyes. The corners of his own eyes crinkled in that almost-smile of his that made her heart stutter every time just before he kissed her.

End Notes:

So I know that holo books are most of what they have, but I think that there's something about having real books.

I think despite Fox being as crazy busy as he is, given a chance he would read. The clones have eiditic memories and are used to learning via flash training and having to learn complex things on the fly. I can only assume that they are fast readers and given half a chance to soak up knowlege they would.

So...Tolstoy...you can't tell me Fox wouldn't be a fan. I left it vague, obviously something like War and Peace would be set in a different setting, but...similar premise and he'd eat that up I think.

Don Quixote reference, which some editions are notorious for footnotes. I love them (if you can't tell from my author's notes sometimes 🤣), some people hate them. I think Fox would sincerely appreciate them given he has no context to go off of.

The last one is a reference to my archnemesis Beowulf, which I've grown to have a grudging appreciation of. So in this I made it a Taung epic instead of Old English. I do think someone like Fox would have a very real appreciation for it, where as Riyo recognizes the literary value from an academic stance but didn't enjoy it?

Honestly, having them have a bit of a quiet nerd moment over books feels real to me and warms my heart.

#foxiyo #fluff drabbles #fox x riyo

11 notes · View notes