marvel-starwars-nerd

[marvel-starwars-nerd]

Liar Liar (Part 11/?)

Part 11 - No Going Back // <<< part 10

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female Reader

🫧 Chapter Summary: A strange run-in with Stone seems to settle some nerves and an accidental confession leaves Fox aching for more.

🫧 Warnings: more angst, accidental feeling confessions.

“I wish you’d cheer up.”

You blink, jerked from your thoughts. “Huh?”

Stone huffed. “See? You’re not even paying attention.”

You were half a step behind him as you both made your way down the corridor, arms full of reports you were delivering for some dull errand. Stone had been chatting nonstop. Something about Thorn, cafeteria food conspiracies, and maybe something involving an ill-fated training drill—but the words had just buzzed around your ears like background noise. You hadn’t heard a single thing. Your brain had been… elsewhere.

“Sorry,” you muttered, nudging his arm with your elbow. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

Stone gave you a long look, one brow slowly arching. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head—and then, of course, the sheepish smile followed.

“What?” you asked, suspicious.

“That ‘lot’ on your mind wouldn’t happen to be a 6 foot tall something, wears red, commands a battalion and acts allergic to feelings, would it?”

You stopped in your tracks, eyes narrowing. “No.”

He smirked like he’d won a lifetime supply of rations. “Sure. And I didn’t overhear you and Thire talking the other day.”

You groaned and covered your face with one hand. “About what, exactly?”

Stone made a vague gesture. “Y’know. You and Commander Doom ‘n Gloom’ .”

“Something did happen,” you admitted through gritted teeth, although you wish more of the guys would stop catching wind about it. “But I’m not going into it, so wipe that stupid grin off your face and let’s just drop it.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, raising both hands in surrender, but his grin didn’t budge. “Just saying. I think you two would actually make a good pair.”

“Stone.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Stone.”

“You’ve got that whole ‘irresistible tension’ thing going on. Very holodrama.”

You threw your head back and groaned as you resumed walking. “Kriff’s sake…”

But even as you tried to laugh it off, your chest still ached from your recent run-in with Fox.

The memory of it stung. Badly. It was the day after 79’s, a few days ago now, and he’d cornered you in a hallway, posture stiff, voice tense even through the filter of his helmet.

“The woman at the bar,” he’d said abruptly. “She was just a civvie. Thanking me. That’s all.”

You’d tried to keep your voice neutral, indifferent. “It’s none of my business, anyway.”

“But Hound said you—” he hesitated. “He said you were crying.”

You cursed Hound’s name internally.

You looked at Fox, bitterness pressing against your ribs. “Maybe I was. Maybe I had a right to be.”

His posture had wavered for a split second, and then he’d leaned in, voice low. “Can we talk? Just… privately. Please.”

Stars, how you wanted to say yes. But it was the part of you that still ached that answered. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Commander.”

“Fox,” he corrected quietly.

You swallowed hard. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to go through this again.”

“I didn’t handle things right,” he said. “But if I could just—”

“You had plenty of time to explain,” you cut in, barely above a whisper.

He looked like he wanted to argue. But he didn’t. He just deflated a little, shoulders sagging.

“…Is this your final decision?”

You hadn’t answered. Couldn’t. You’d just looked away, whispered something about getting back to work, and left him standing there.

And now, days later, the conversation was still looping in your head like a broken holotape.

You and Stone finally reached the destination for your delivery. It was a quiet, empty records office and you had to refrain from grimacing because it smelt bad. Like, really bad.

“Huh,” you then murmured, scanning the room. “Wasn’t someone supposed to meet us here to sign off?”

Stone shrugged, already leaning against the nearest desk and lazily inspecting his blaster. “Maybe they forgot. Or maybe I’m too intimidating.”

You raised a brow. “You got chewed out yesterday for not cleaning your weapon properly.”

He huffed. “I’m working on it. ” He waves his blaster in his hand at you.

You rolled your eyes and dropped the reports onto the desk, glancing uneasily at the vents above. The hair on the back of your neck prickled. “I don’t like just leaving these out here. It feels… off.”

Stone waved it off. “Relax. I do this kind of thing all the time. Besides, what’s gonna happen? A paperwork bandit crawls out of the air ducts and steals the mission reports?”

As if summoned, a loud clang echoed above your heads.

Both of you froze.

“…Okay. If that’s the bandit, I take it back,” Stone said, already on his feet, blaster drawn.

“You heard that too?” you asked, stepping back.

“Affirmative. Get behind me.”

You did as he said, heart racing as Stone climbed onto a nearby crate to reach the vent. He glanced at you, holding up a hand for you to stay where you were, then opened the latch and flicked on his torch.

There was a long, tense moment as he leaned in.

“Stone?” you whispered. No answer.

Then—

PEW!

You flinched at the sharp sound of a stun blast. “Wh-What was it?!”

Stone didn’t respond at first. He shifted forward, grunting as he dragged something towards him. Then he jumped down and turned toward you, holding it by the legs like a wriggly, ugly prize.

You blinked. “Is that a… hawk-bat?”

He nodded. “Looks like a baby one. Underfed, too.”

You stepped closer, frowning. That’s what I’ve been hearing? That thing’s been crawling around the walls?

He held it out, watching it sway in its stunned state. “You wanna keep it? Call it something cute, like Gremlin?”

You chuckled. “I think Fox would be a better name.”

Stone returns the laugh, smirking. “Definitely looks like him too, he's been a mess lately.” And for some reason, that didn’t make you laugh like perhaps he thought it would.

“Is he?”

Stone nods. “Sure. Not sleeping, drinking an unhealthy amount of caf - worse than usual. That prisoner's disappearance has really done a number on him.” Stone says almost casually, lifting the creatures leathery like wings to take a look and then he looks at you. “And I suppose if you have broken his heart then add that to the list, too.”

“I haven’t broken his heart,” you roll your eyes but still frown at everything else, “we should take this somewhere, set it free once we know it’s healthy.”

Stone nods in agreement, saying that he knew where to take it.

So the two of you leave the office, hawk-bat in hand. But still, your eyes drifted back to the vents above. Something still didn’t sit right. And not just about hawk-bats.

⋅⋅ ───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅⋅

You and Stone were halfway back to your main station, still carrying the stunned hawk-bat when something made you slow down. Your eyes drifted across the corridor where you see tucked just out of plain sight, Fox and Thorn. Thorn’s arms were moving a lot, sharp gestures like he was making a point, while Fox stood still, head tipped forward slightly like the weight of it all was finally pressing down on him.

Stone noticed too. “That’s a serious-looking powwow.”

You didn’t answer. You were too focused on how different Fox looked. Slumped shoulders. Arms folded tight across his chest. Even from a distance, he looked worn down. Tired in a way caf couldn’t fix. Stone had been right, he did look a mess and so you forced yourself to look away.

Once back at your station, you handed off the hawk-bat to one of the medtechs with instructions to keep it warm and fed. At least that solved the weird banging noises you had been hearing.

As you settled into your desk, Thire suddenly called your name.

You looked over to see him nodding toward the corridor where Fox and Thorn had been standing. “What do you reckon that’s about?” he asked.

“I… don’t know,” you murmured, gaze flickering back toward them. “Something serious.”

You sat back down, fingers moving to the console but your thoughts weren’t on the reports. They were on Commander Fox. A strange guilt started bubbling low in your chest, but you shoved it aside and focused on your screen.

Until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You stiffened and turned. Thorn stood behind you, visor locked on. “Come with me.”

You blinked, confused. “Uh, okay…?”

You followed him quietly, heart beginning to thrum faster the closer you got to the corner where Fox still stood. Thorn didn’t say a word, just guided you to stand directly in front of the pair of them. The air was thick with something heavy and Fox still wasn’t looking at you.

You looked between them both, brows furrowing after a moment too long of silence. “Am I in trouble?”

Thorn’s voice was level but pointed. “Are you going to tell her, or am I?”

Fox exhaled hard, clearly agitated. “You can do it.”

That tiny flare of nerves that had been simmering erupted into something worse. Panic.

Thorn didn’t waste time. “We’ve been tracking the system disruptions for a while now. The failures. The delays. It turns out that all of them… came from your station.”

You blinked, completely taken aback. “Wait, what? My station?”

“Your terminal’s been used as the access point for multiple data breaches,” Thorn said. “The logs line up. And the signature pattern matches your ID.”

“That’s not possible,” you said quickly, voice rising. “I—I haven’t done anything. I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

“We’re not accusing you. Not directly,” Thorn said evenly. “But this is serious. And it’s coming from your end.”

You looked at Fox. Desperate. “Commander, you know me. You know I wouldn’t do this.”

But he didn’t even speak.He didn’t even lift his head.

The silence from him was louder than any accusation Thorn could’ve thrown. Your breath hitched in your throat, something like betrayal creeping up your spine.

“…Fox?” you asked, quieter now. Pleading. “Please.”

His helmet shifted slightly, as if he wanted to say something but whatever it was, it died in his throat.

That was worse than shouting. Worse than suspicion. He didn’t believe you. Or maybe worse was that he did —but he didn’t trust himself enough to say it out loud.

You sucked in a breath, steeling yourself. “Am I fired?”

Your voice came out calmer than expected, and weirdly—there were no tears. Not yet. Maybe you’d cried them all out for the man who couldn’t even look at you now.

Thorn shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Fox and then back to you. “No. Fox convinced me not to terminate your position.”

Of course he did.

The silent executioner.

“But,” Thorn continued, “I have to escalate this. The breach came from your system, and until the investigation clears, you’ll be reassigned to another station.”

You let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “So let me get this straight—you think I’m too dangerous to be here, but I’m safe enough to just be dumped in another corner of the building? Sure. That tracks.”

Thorn hesitated, visibly uncomfortable. “I… didn’t say it like that.”

You turned to Fox then, who had finally raised his head. Not quite looking at you, but closer. “If you’re so worried about trust, Thorn,” you said coldly, “maybe take a good look at the man standing next to you.

Fox’s shoulders squared instantly like your words hit him physically. He stood up straighter, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of your gaze. Not now.

You turned on your heel and stormed off, boots echoing with fury down the corridor until you slammed back into the station. Heads turned. Conversations dropped.

Stone raised an eyebrow as you marched to your desk, grabbing a crate. “Uh—what’s going on?”

“Moving,” you snapped.

“M-Moving where?” Thire blinked, hurrying over.

“A different station.” Your voice cracked a little from the sheer force of holding everything in. “Apparently I’m a security risk.”

Grizzer whimpered at your feet, sensing the tension, but you stepped over him as you shoved datapads and personal items into the crate. Hound blocked your path for a second before you brushed past him too.

“They think I can’t be trusted,” you muttered, teeth clenched. “Apparently every damn system breach came from my terminal.”

Stone shook his head, eyes wide. “That’s impossible. We would’ve noticed—”

“Yeah, well,” you scoffed bitterly, “apparently I’m real good at flying under the radar.”

“You need to talk to Fox,” Hound said, frowning. “He’ll fix this.”

You gave a sharp, mirthless laugh. “Oh, I did. Or tried to. But it turns out he’s good at being speechless when it matters.”

Hound opened his mouth again, but you cut him off, voice rising with each word. “He had plenty of chances. When he lied. When he said it didn’t mean anything. When he watched me get blamed for something I didn’t even do!”

Thire approached you gently, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Just calm down for a second, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

“Calm down?” You turned on him, eyes wide and blazing. “They’ve accused me of screwing up everything . You want me to calm down? Would you be calm if your name was dragged through the mud without even a shred of defense from the person who—”

You stopped yourself, swallowing hard as the floodgate cracked.

You dropped the next item into the crate harder than you meant to, rattling the others.

“And Fox?” You spat his name like venom. “I have never in my life met someone so disloyal. He lies for weeks, strings me along like I mean nothing. Then stands there mute when I need him most? Screw him.”

No one moved. Even Grizzer stayed perfectly still, ears back. The three clones stood in stunned silence, watching you as if you had grown an extra head.

You turned, ready to storm out only to freeze in place as he - the very topic of conversation - stood in the doorway, silent and unmoving. He must’ve heard every word. Good.

For a second, no one breathed. You stared at him, seething. “Oh, if it isn’t the bubble-brain himself,” you sneered, lifting the crate in your arms. “Come to lend a hand, or just here to make sure I don’t steal anything on the way out?”

Fox stared you down, visor locked onto you and only you. The boys behind you shifted awkwardly, the air thick with unspoken words. You huffed, throwing your hands up.

“Yes? No?” you bit out, answering the question for him.

Fox hesitated then sighed, stepping aside wordlessly to let you pass.

The silence that followed was almost heavier than the tension before it. Thorn shook his head, watching Fox retreat toward his desk.

“What the are you doing, Fox?” he demanded.

“What choice do I have?” Fox grunted, his armour clinking as he moved stiffly.

“Go after her!” Thire snapped, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “This is your last chance.”

Fox’s fists slammed down onto the desk, the crack echoing through the room and cutting them all off.

“You heard what she said!” he barked. His voice cracked through the modulator—frayed, exhausted, broken. He dropped his head into his hands for a moment before dragging them down his helmet with a long, heavy sigh. “It’s done. It’s been done.”

Then he lifted his gaze to Hound, sharp and bitter. “And you—you weren't doing me any favours filling my head with ideas that she still cared. She doesn't.”

“She’s angry ,” Hound said firmly, stepping forward. “Because you didn’t stand by her. Not because she doesn’t care.”

Fox’s jaw locked hard enough you could almost hear the grind of his teeth. His helmet tilted, staring at the door you had stormed through.

“I’m tired, Hound,” he muttered.

“So is she,” Stone said, quieter this time. “Tired of fighting battles you make her fight alone. Just apologise. Be the man she knows you are.”

Fox's hands balled into fists again. “How can I fix it when she thinks I’m the most disloyal bastard she’s ever met?”

The others went silent. No one had an answer for that.

Fox let out another sharp breath, shoving back from the console. His body was tense, his movements mechanical—but after a second of pacing like a caged animal, he cursed under his breath and made for the door at a near-run.

He searched every corridor, panic blooming tighter in his chest with each wrong turn. Fifth hallway down, he caught sight of you. Crate in your arms. Walking fast.

He called your name.

You slowed, just for a second, your head tilting back over your shoulder. But when you saw it was him, you immediately turned back around, quickening your pace.

Fox jogged after you, closing the distance fast. He skidded in front of you, blocking your path. You scowled. “Move.”

“Just give me a second.” His voice was rawer now. “Let’s talk. Properly.”

You hesitated. Sighed. Then took a step back, shifting the crate’s weight in your arms, your exhaustion written in every line of your body. “Fine. Talk.”

Fox stood there a beat too long, fidgeting like he was physically holding himself together. You noticed his hands shake slightly at his sides. The great Commander Fox, reduced to nerves in your presence.

"I..." His voice faltered before he swallowed hard and forced it out. "I tried. I know you’re not responsible for the leaks. Any of it. And I’m sorry I didn’t speak up sooner. I spent days convincing Thorn not to have you fired.”

You stared at him, dead-eyed. “Am I supposed to thank you for that?”

Fox bit his tongue, chest rising and falling heavily. “No. I just—I don’t want you thinking I don’t believe you.”

“You could’ve said something,” you muttered, shaking your head, shifting the crate again. “You’ve never been the type to shut up when it mattered. I’ve worked for you for years. I know you.”

"If that's all..." you added, voice rough, "I'll be on my way."

You went to move past him—but he caught your sleeve.

“I’m not done.”

Reluctantly, you turned back to him.

Fox’s shoulders stiffened. He scanned the hallway quickly, making sure no one was around before he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, quieter now. “About what I did to you. About… Whisky. About everything.” His hands fisted and flexed at his sides. “I don’t know why I made him up. Maybe I just wanted—needed—you to look at me the way you did that night.”

You swallowed hard.

“When you came to me at 79’s,” he continued, voice fraying at the edges, “I thought you knew it was me. And I just got caught up in a lie, second guessing myself of how you would have acted if you knew the truth. I wanted you to believe it was me. Because it was."

The silence between you was unbearable.

You shifted the crate higher in your arms, biting back a wave of emotion. “Let’s just forget it happened, Commander.”

“Fox,” he corrected immediately. “I told you. Call me Fox.”

You clenched your jaw, staring up at him through lashes thick with unshed tears.

“Let’s forget it happened, Fox ,” you corrected hollowly. “I’ve gotten over Whisky… and maybe moving stations is a good thing.” Your voice wavered, cracking right down the center. “Because now I can finally get over you too.”

Fox's eyes widened behind his helmet, it hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Get over me?” Fox repeated, stunned. He took an automatic step forward, towering over you. “What do you mean—?”

You dropped your gaze, heart pounding so hard you thought he could hear it.

“N-nothing. I need to go.” You tried to step past him again but this time he stopped you with a hand at your waist.

You froze. The heat of his touch burned right through the layers of cloth, igniting something you had tried so hard to bury. A shudder tore through you.

“Please…” he murmured, voice almost wrecked. “Tell me. Did you… did you ever feel something for me? As me?”

You looked down at his hand—then back up at him. “I guess I did,” you whispered, the confession leaving your lips like a wound torn open. The anger, the jealousy, the heartache, it was because of Fox. “But it’s all changed now.”

Fox sucked in a sharp breath, taking another step closer, his entire frame blotted out the corridor, your world reduced to his red armour and the familiar scent you had now realised to have missed so much.

“It doesn’t have to,” he rasped. “You can trust me. You can—"

You closed your eyes tightly, inhaling the scent that broke you all over again. It was the same one that had clung to you in the meadow, in the cab, on the nights you let yourself dream he was yours.

“That’s the thing, Fox,” you breathed, voice almost breaking. “I can’t. I look at you and I just think back to when I opened myself up to you. When I told you that trust was everything to me. But when I look at you… all I see is a liar. And I can’t do that to myself again.”

Fox doesn’t let you go, not yet. His touch lingers a moment more on your waist as if savouring the feel of you so close before he takes a step away, his hand slipping back to his side. “I respect your decision. I hope… I hope that you will be happier.”

“Yeah,” you sniff, moving past him for the last time, “me too.”

Tags:

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[marvel-starwars-nerd]

Yours, Always ~ Rex x F! Jedi Reader

Summary: After a near-death experience on the battlefield, Rex is determined to make it clear who you belong to. Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: emotionally charged/rough p in v sex (18+ this is filthy), canon-typical violence, angsty A/N: i've been dying to write some rex smut lately so i hope you all enjoy ;) i also have a "morning after" scene that involves the 501st teasing tf out of you two if anyone is interested in me posting that! join my taglist / masterlist

The gunship was crowded and suffocatingly quiet.

Heat scoring still smoked on your robe. You didn’t even sit down, but instead just stood there near the bay doors, bracing yourself against the hull and trying not to look like your hands were shaking. They were, though. You could still feel the charge of the cannon blast that missed you by inches.

It wasn’t the heat from the battlefield that had your heart racing though. It was Rex.

He sat across from you, helmet on, fingers curled tight around the edge of the bench like he was holding himself back from doing something he would regret. Although you couldn’t see his eyes, you could tell his eyes haven’t broken away from you since you climbed aboard. Not when Kix muttered something about the Force keeping you alive. Not when Jesse clapped you on the shoulder for ‘saving the day’. Not even when the wind of exiting the atmosphere roared against the ship and forced the others to look away.

His stare felt like his hand pressed to your throat. He was furious, but not barking-orders furious or battlefield angry. This was much deeper and you felt it too.

Every time the gunship shuddered, your swore your eyes met his through his visor, setting off sparks like a live wire. Except they weren’t the fun sparks - they were the unspoken and unresolved ones. This was about the mission and about what you’d done. Everyone around you could feel it.

You caught Hardcase smirking at Dogma, who tried to hide the way he was studying Rex’s posture. Jesse, who was seated just next to you, leaned his arms across his knees, faced Fives and muttered under his breath, “Well, we’re either getting a wedding or a court martial after this.”

It was just loud enough for you to hear. Fives snorted. You didn’t take your eyes off Rex and neither did he.

The tension in the gunship was suffocating. So suffocating that the second it docked in the hangar and the doors hissed open, you didn’t wait. You turned and stepped out quickly like there was something urgently awaiting your attention elsewhere. There wasn’t anything through, just your Captain behind you, watching your every move. 

Tradition was going to have to slide today. You were in no mood for a ‘post successful mission meal’ with the rest of the 501st. Instead, you just sauntered your way to your quarters - and the men let you. Well, almost all of them did. You didn’t need to look over your shoulder to know he was behind you. His presence chased you like a storm.

You could feel him trailing you through the corridor. Rex was silent and never more than a few paces back. He was good at following orders and better at giving them, but when it came to you, his discipline had its limits. Right now, you were sure he was one command away from breaking all of them.

Farther behind you, the rest of the squad was peeling off toward the mess, their chatter just loud enough to reach your ears. “Yeah, no way we’re seeing Rex in the mess tonight,” Fives cooed, rounding the corner that separated the mess hall from the Jedi quarters.

“Oh, he’s headed somewhere messier,” Jesse chuckled back, almost too casually. You didn’t turn around, nor did you need to. You knew the smug grin that was probably spreading across Jesse’s face and you definitely didn’t miss the low whistle that followed. 

Once at your door, your palm hovered over the panel for a beat too long before you keyed it open. The door slid back with a hiss and you stepped inside -  the soft thunk of his armor behind you.

Rex clicked the lock shut behind you. His eyes were dark and fixed on you like he was barely holding back the tide. That’s when you realized that this wasn’t going to be a conversation. It was going to be a reckoning.

You barely had time to breathe before he was on you.

Rex moved like he’d been holding back every last bit of patience he had in him and the lock clicking shut was the last thread snapping. He ripped off his helmet, gloves, and pauldron, tossing them to the floor with a hollow clang, before putting his hands on your shoulders. The motion was rough, unyielding, and hungry.

“You think I don’t see what you do out there?” he growled,“You think I don’t feel it every time you throw yourself into danger like your life doesn’t mean anything?”

You let out a startled gasp as your back hit the wall, his body crowding yours with heat and tension wound far too tight, “Rex-”

“No. Don’t,” he cut in, hands braced on either side of your head now, muscles flexing, “Don’t talk your way around this. You scared me.” His voice cracked at the edges, like the words were tearing out of him, “You ran straight into that cannon’s line of fire. Force help me, I thought I was gonna watch you die.”

You opened your mouth to speak or to explain or to soothe him, but one look in his eyes and you knew that he didn’t want comfort. He just wanted you. 

“I couldn’t lose you,” he whispered, “Not you. Not when you’re-” He swallowed hard, knowing his next words are one he thought he’d never get to say to anyone, “You’re everything to me.”

Your heart stuttered. Your hands moved instinctively, gripping his sides, fingers brushing the edge of his blacks where his armor gave way to skin, “But I’m here,” you reassured him, “I made it back.”

“That’s not enough,” he rasped, his voice louder now, “It’s not enough just to survive when, kriffing maker, I need you.” 

He didn’t give you time to answer. His mouth desperately and possessively crushed against yours, his hands tangling in your robe like he had to feel you just to prove you were real. The kiss was all teeth and heat. Almost like he was punishing you for scaring him, and punishing himself for letting you.

Your hands slid into his hair, anchoring him to you, triggering a low groan in his throat. His hips pressed into yours and although his armor was cold, you could feel his body burning beneath it. Just as you went to part from his lips for air, he was already one step ahead. Within moments, his mouth was everywhere.

Teeth scraped along your jaw and down your throat before settling on your collarbone like he needed to mark you and brand you as his. You gasped, tilting your back against the wall as Rex pressed closer, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise while the other wrestled your robe off your shoulders.

“Mine,” he grumbled against your skin, “You’re mine. You don’t get to risk yourself like that. Not when I’ve been losing my mind just thinking about what it would do to me if I-” his voice broke again. You felt the sharp tremble in his breath as his fingers dragged down your waist, “I thought I lost you today.”

His breath was heavy against your clavicle. Slowly, you shifted your head, allowing yourself to place soft kisses across his cheek and up to his ear, where you stopped, “Rex, I’m right here.”

That did it. Something in him snapped.

He picked his head up fast - scooping you up in one motion and tossing you onto your perfectly made bed. Your quarters were instantly filled with the sound of the remainder of his armor being snapped off and discarded haphazardly across the floor at an impressive rate. 

“You should see your face right now,” you teased, trying to bite back a smirk, “I’ve never seen armor come off that quick.”

Rex chucked the last of his armor across the room, leaving him in only his blacks, before mounting himself across your thighs, placing his hands at the hem of your waistband. He paused, slowly curling his body down to press his lips into the side of your head. “Keep talking,” he snarled against your ear, shoving your pants down roughly, “See how long that attitude lasts.”

You whimpered. He was already hard and grinding against you through the blacks with zero patience, like he’d rip through the fabric of his blacks if it meant getting to you faster. Your hand dropped to return the favor, tugging at his waistband.

He hissed between his teeth when your fingers brushed against him, “Fuck, you drive me insane.”

“Good,” you huffed, nipping at his neck, “Then we’re even.”

That broke the last of his control. He hooked one of your legs up around his waist, shoved his blacks down just far enough, and pressed into you all at once. The thrust was deep, fast and accompanied a desperate growl that vibrated straight through your spine.

You cried out, back arching into his clothed chest as he filled you with his entire length. There was no buildup, no teasing - just raw, ragged need, “Stars, Rex.”

“Too much?” he grinned, pausing while fully inserted into you.

“Not even close.”

Rex then set a brutal pace, his thrusts snapping into you like he had something to prove. Perhaps he did. Maybe it wasn’t just about the fear or the fury or the way you’d looked back at him through the smoke like you didn’t realize what it would do to him if you died. 

Maybe it was about ownership. Maybe it was about making sure you never forgot who you belonged to. Maybe it was about making sure you knew that you were more important to him than being a soldier. 

You clung to his shoulders, nails digging into the scarred skin beneath his blacks. He buried his face in your neck, panting against your skin as his rhythm got even rougher, your name breaking off his lips like prayer and curse all at once.

“You’re mine,” he reminded you again, teeth scraping your shoulder.

“Yes,” you gasped, dizzy from the intensity, speed and stretch of him slamming into you, “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.”

Hearing those words from your lips sent a slight shutter down his spine. Almost as if your words gave him some sort of surge, he plunged himself even deeper into you, forcing an involuntary whine out of you as he hit new depths. 

“Don't sto-” you attempted to rasp out as Rex continued to ruthlessly drive deeper into you, muffling your words with your own moans.

“Why. Would. I. Stop,” he gritted between thrusts, “After. Finding. Your. Sweet. Spot?” The smug, hungry heat in his voice lit every nerve inside you on fire. He was relentless now, driving his cock into you at the same devastating angle over and over again, hitting so deep and so precise it knocked the breath from your lungs. You couldn’t even find the words anymore, just breathless gasps and broken whimpers as your body clenched around him, trying to hold on and falling apart all at once.

“Yeah,” Rex muttered darkly against your forehead, “Right there, huh? That the spot you lose your mind for me?”

You could only nod and shut your eyes, dizzy from the pressure building low and fast in your core, twitching your hips with every deep drag of him inside you.

“Look at me,” he growled, pulling back just enough to cup your jaw and tilt your face to his, the motion forcing your eyes open. Sweat began to bead at his temples,“You tell me when you’re close, cyar’ika.”

You nodded, a sob of pleasure caught in your throat as he slammed into you again, and again, and again, “Rex,” you cried, your thigh trembling against him, “Rex, please - I’m gonna-”

“That’s it,” he grunted, his thrusts ragged now, chasing both your highs like an animal hunting for prey, “Come with me.”

It hit you like a shockwave - your whole body arching against his, muscles locking around him as you shattered on his cock, crying out his name Rex followed with a low, guttural groan, burying himself as deep as he could, clutching you tight as his climax pulsed hot inside you.

For a long moment, the only sound filling the room was each of your muffled breaths as he held you like he could anchor himself in you forever. You slowly moved your hands from his back to his head while you watched his back rise and fall with each labored breath as he tried to steady himself. You began to scratch his head - which was still buried between your shoulder and the pillow - earning yourself a sigh of content from Rex. 

Slowly, he shifted his head to face you, eyes half cracked and glassy, with his lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words just yet. Still nestled between your thighs, you could feel all the tension drain from his body. Without warning, he slipped out of you, replacing the space he just filled with the dazed, disarmed warmth you only ever got from him.

You trailed your fingertips from his head down to his cheek, cupping it. He nuzzled into your palm instinctually.

“Hey,” you whispered, giving him a soft smile, “Still with me?”

Rex didn’t speak right away. He just nodded once, his nose brushing yours as his hand slipped up your side, dragging across sweat-damp skin like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

“I’m here,” he mumbled eventually, “I just. I just needed to feel you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then just under his ear, letting out a soft laugh “I’d say you did.” That seemed to finally loosen something in him. He shifted his weight carefully, allowing himself to take off the top half of his blacks before doing the same with your top and chest band. 

“I probably should have taken those off for us earlier,” he chuckled under his breath before placing his mouth on your chin, planting kisses down your neck, collarbone, and chest. They were the kind of slow, open-mouthed kisses that said thank you; that said I’m sorry.

He slid down the bed, scanning your body for any bruises he might have just left behind. His hands roamed softly, over your stomach, hips and thighs. Anywhere that had been bruised or bitten or gripped too hard in the heat of the moment was met with the most delicate touch of his lips.

Eventually, he pulled the sheets up around you both and settled at your side. You threw one leg across his hips and placed one arm over his chest, resting your head perfectly in the crook of his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I was rough with you. You just scare the hell out of me you know,” he confessed against your shoulder. “Every time you jump in front of a blaster or run headfirst into danger, I feel like I can't breathe until you come back.”

You angled your neck up to face him, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

His eyes flicked down to meet yours. You could swear they were wet with a little red around the edges, “I don’t need careful. I just need you.” He pressed his head forward to kiss you slow and deep. So slow and so deep it stole what little breath you had left. His thumb brushed over your cheekbone like he was afraid you might disappear again. You kissed him back with everything you had. Not because it was expected, but because loving him felt like coming home.

tags:

@trixie2023 @clon3wh0r3 @melonmochiii @alice-in-wonderland111 @marvel-starwars-nerd @simping-for-fives @horsegirl4561 @koskareevesismyqueen @katelynnwrites @pinkiemme @youmaynowdothething @808tsuika @dangerdumpling @ahsoka-padme @persaloodles @soclonely @coffeeandtodd @gryffindorqueensworld @obiorbenkenobi @jedi-dreea @lightning-wolffe @msmeredithrose @orangez3st @alor-ika

[marvel-starwars-nerd]

Oh pretty pretty please could I request a Hunter x reader with ❛ i didn’t know where else to go. ❜ where Hunter shows up to readers bunk/room with a migraine from his hightened senses? Maybe he's had a few of these before but this one is much worse (because of a mission gone sideways or something) and he just needs someone to take care of him that isn't one of his brothers (he loves them but they're way too loud for this kind of situation)?

Also, I just cannot express how much I enjoy your writing! I read through all of your Hunter works in one sitting a few days ago!

character: Hunter (The Bad Batch)

prompt: "I didn’t know where else to go."

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

You were only half asleep when you heard shuffling across the floor of the ship. After you blinked yourself awake, you sat up on your elbow and saw Hunter making a cautious approach. His gaze was apologetic, but the pained creases at the edges of his eyes was what made you fully attentive.

"Hey," you greeted, keeping your voice hushed both to keep anyone else from waking and because of your own suspicions about whatever was bothering him. "What is it?"

Hunter was still more concerned about you. "Did I wake you?" You noticed he had to fight back a whimper as he spoke.

You shook your head and sat up, swinging your legs off the side of the bunk. "I was barely asleep."

Hunter sighed. He closed his eyes and lifted two of his fingers to his temple, giving it a rub. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." You tucked your hands under your thighs to resist the urge to reach out and soothe him with your touch. "Is it a migraine?"

Hunter reopened his eyes and nodded. His gaze was uncertain as it began to dart around the space. "I wouldn't have bothered you, but this one's... worse than usual." His eyes found yours again, and the desperation within his gaze nearly took your breath away. "I didn't know where else to go."

You offered him a reassuring smile. "Well, you came to the right place." You scooted over on the bunk to make room for him.

Hunter followed your lead, hopping up onto the bunk and hanging his head as if it was too heavy for him to carry. You twisted your lips and brushed your hand over his back.

"Rough mission, huh?" You had stayed back on the ship with Omega at Hunter's reluctant request.

Hunter huffed, then winced. "Yeah. You could say that." He lifted his forefinger and thumb to pinch the bridge of his nose. "There was a lot going on."

"I bet." Your nails drew soothing circles over the black material that covered his back. "Are you okay with me touching your head?"

Hunter kept his eyes closed as he responded. "Yeah." His free hand found your knee as he gave it a gentle squeeze. "I trust you."

That made your chest inflame with the sweetest warmth as you nodded and bit back your giddy smile. "Okay. Then my first idea is..." you paused, reaching up to untie his bandana, "loosening some of this pressure."

You set the red material aside and watched as his hair slowly slid back into its natural place. It made your smile impossible to fight.

"Are you comfortable laying your head on my lap?"

Hunter nodded, and he almost seemed to be fighting a smile of his own. You moved yourself back to where your pillow was, propping it up for your back to rest on as you sat criss-crossed and help Hunter to ease himself down. He kept his eyes closed as he did so, and the pained creases of his eyes slowly relaxed as you began to run your fingers through his hair.

"There you go." Your words were no more than a whisper at that point. Your fingers eased through the strands of his hair, being careful not to be too quick or too rough as you knew even this simple action had the potential to trigger his enhanced senses.

Hunter's hands were folded over his middle as his eyes slowly opened. He looked at you and let the smile he had been trying to fight spread over his lips. You returned the gesture before you could stop it. Your heart began to race just a little more when he grabbed one of your wrists to lower your palm against his cheek. "Thank you."

Your smile grew as you gently ran your thumb over his tattooed skin. "You don't have to thank me." You bent down to place soft kisses on each of his temples. "Just relax."

Hunter folded his hands again and closed his eyes. He let out a relaxed breath and aired out one last concern. "What if I fall asleep?"

You didn't bother holding in your giggle. "Then I did my job right."

Hunter huffed, and you were more than pleased to see that his expression of pain had been exchanged for one of pure satisfaction. It was just as sweet as the thought of him coming to you for help in the first place. You were just as much his refuge as he was yours.

[marvel-starwars-nerd]

The Art of Letting Go

summary: After Omega leaves for her new adventure, you seek to comfort the one who's sent her off.

pairing: hunter (the bad batch) x reader

tags: season 3 finale spoilers, emotional hurt/comfort, references to trauma/death, fluff

rating: T

word count: 2.653k

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

You watched as the ship soared into Pabu’s evening sky, a wealth of emotion welling inside your chest as it rose and fell in a steady breath. Tears brimmed your waterline, but you were able to blink them back. It was mostly joy and pride that had a grip on your emotions for the young woman Omega had become.

But letting go was never easy, especially for the person who was no doubt struggling even more than you were to watch her go.

It was easy to navigate your way to Omega’s makeshift hangar, especially with the light you had brought along with you. Hunter had never quite let go of the urge to stay hidden, and so you had the foresight to predict that the lights illuminating the hangar would already be out by the time you arrived. As it turned out, the amount of time you gave the two of them was perfect, too.

Omega had already said her goodbyes to you in confidence. You had promised not to tell anyone, not even Hunter, that she was leaving, but you had at least warned her that he would find out on his own. The conversations you and Hunter had already had about her itching to join the fight made that clear. When he left your bed that night, then, it wasn’t a surprise—and hopefully Omega wasn’t that surprised, either.

Batcher’s barking interrupted your mental rewind and brought you back to the present. You smiled as you bent down to meet her, setting aside your light for a moment as you pet her with both hands. She let out a sad trill, her big eyes sparkling with a sadness you felt deep within your own chest.

“I know, girl.” You set a gentle kiss on the top of her wrinkling head. “I’ll miss her too.” You smiled and scratched your hand against the side of her face. “She’ll be back when the fight’s over.”

You looked beyond Batcher and saw Hunter’s silhouette by the mouth of the cavern. He was still standing by the lights he had turned off, his back facing you as he looked out at Pabu’s night sky.

With an affectionate huff, you patted Batcher’s head and rose once again. You took up your light and walked through the hangar to meet him where he was. When you reached him, you stood by his side, letting him be the first one to speak.

“I knew you were coming.” You looked up at Hunter and caught the slight rise in the corner of his mouth. Still, what was even more prominent was the shine in his eyes, created by the tears brimming his waterline that he refused to shed. You softened and shuffled yourself closer to his side.

“Was it your senses that gave me away, or Batcher’s barking?” Your words were nothing but a tease as you set the light down at your side.

Hunter chuckled at that. “Neither.” He steadied himself with a breath, though his exhale was pushed through an evident knot within his throat. “I just knew.”

You raised your hand to his back, brushing over it in slow, soothing circles as you spoke. “You knew she was leaving, too.”

Hunter didn’t respond for a long moment. You looked up at him again, watching as his bearded jaw ticked for composure. He eventually nodded and glanced down at his feet. “I did.” He huffed and raised his brow. “We all did.” His head turned in your direction, but his teary eyes still couldn’t meet your own. “Wrecker and Crosshair came to terms with it. They were even talking strategy with her.”

Finally, his brown gaze looked up, his immensely sad yet proud dark eyes meeting yours. He was only able to hold your gaze for a few seconds before he closed his eyes and started to lower his head.

“I’m only one who wasn’t ready.”

You turned towards him, lifting your hand from his back to instead hold the sides of his face. He kept his eyes closed, the knit in his brow tightening as he refused to give up his fight for composure. You let out a soft breath, twisting your lips before looking out at the nearby shore. “Come on.” You were nothing but gentle as you tapped Hunter’s cheek. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Hunter reopened his eyes at that, watching as you bent back down to pick up your light again. “On this terrain?” He let out a curt breath. “My knees aren’t what they used to be.”

You scoffed and jostled his shoulder. “Okay, Sergeant. I’ll just go by myself, then.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “In the middle of the night?” He gave his head a shake. “You know that’s not happening.”

You laughed and shrugged with a victorious smirk. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Even Hunter chuckled before he whistled to call Batcher over. She followed, moving much slower than she used to, and began to follow as you led the way out of the cavern and towards the Pabu shore. The hand not holding the light held Hunter’s, and he held yours just as tight. As suspected, he had no problem navigating the terrain that you all called home.

After a long while of walking, you settled on the nearby sandy shore, remaining far from the tide as you stopped and began to sit. Hunter followed suit, letting out a few grunts as he got down to your level. You chuckled warmly, catching his warning glance that was coated in amusement—though he was effortlessly able to keep your eyes on him.

The evening breeze was sweeping through his hair, softly jostling the long ends that were hanging from his forehead. They had only grown longer and longer over the years, and you were glad he decided to keep it that way. With a smile stuck to your lips, you raised a hand to gently brush them out of his eyes, the other hand still tight in his. Your knuckles ran over the side of his face as you admired the way Pabu’s moon and stars cast a warm glow over him, illuminating the flecks of light in his dark gaze.

Hunter raised his brow at you before giving his head a shake. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Your hand fell into your lap. “Like what?”

Hunter hummed, the corners of his lips curving upwards in a small smile. “Like I’m still young.”

You clicked your tongue, leaning closer until he bent his forehead down to meet yours. Your gaze gave him an obvious once-over as your smile remained. “You’ve only gotten more handsome with time.” You let out a soft laugh as you squeezed his hand and lifted the other back up to his face. “I had no idea that was even possible.”

Hunter’s cheek warmed beneath your touch as he let out a shy huff. “Well… thank you.” He leaned further into you until his lips were on yours, a sweet yet familiar touch that overwhelmed you with a wave of warmth. You had grown used to the feeling of hair on his upper lip, something as reliable and consistent as the soft locks your hand was able to tend to even as you pulled away from the brief display of affection.

Your eyes watched as your fingers made their way back to his cheek, your thumb running over the graying edges of his beard as you did so. You smiled at the recent memory the sight brought you. “I was right, you know.” Hunter’s brow furrowed as he waited for you to go on. “Omega likes the beard, too.”

“Yeah?” Hunter’s gaze sparkled as he raised a quizzical eyebrow. “So, you two were talking about me again?”

You let out a soft laugh and ran your thumb over the outline of his tattoo on his cheekbone. “We can’t help it.” Your smile softened from one of amusement to one of affection. “We both care a lot about you.”

For a moment, Hunter was able to return your smile with a breathless amount of fondness. “I care a lot about you two, too.” His hand tightened around yours. “That’s why I can’t…”

He paused, and you let him take his time. His eyes became more sad again as he inhaled a deep breath. They closed, and he spoke as he released his shaky exhale.

“... Let go.”

You offered him a more supportive smile. “You just did.” Your gaze gestured to the open stretch of Pabu sky above you.

Hunter shrugged, his gaze beginning to avert yours again as the tears returned to his waterline. “I tried.” He let out a breath of defeat, but after winning so many battles all those years ago during the war, it was clear that only his resilience was keeping him from doing exactly what he was struggling with.

Your thumb ran along his face as you invited him to lean into your palm. “Then try again.” You offered him a nod of reassurance. “Let go, Hunter.”

His brow wrinkled together, but after a long moment of consideration, it relaxed in understanding. Hunter’s jaw tightened as his body continued to fight him, but his trembling lips proved he was fighting to do exactly as you had told him to. Your hand on his face ran back towards his hair, guiding his head to your shoulder as you held him close.

Hunter’s shoulders heaved once, and you rested your cheek against his head. Your hand ran over his hair, minding the bump of the upper half that had been secured back. “There you go.” Your voice was gentle to as to avoid startling him, especially when he so badly needed this release. “It’s okay. It’s normal to feel this way.” Your thumb ran over his hand the best it could as it remained entwined with his own. “None of us were ever going to be ready to let her go.”

Hunter continued to stay close, though he shifted his head on your shoulder so that he could speak to you. “I never wanted her to have to fight, but…” he sighed, “I should’ve known it was inevitable.”

“You bought her freedom and gave her peace.” Your fingers threaded softly through his locks, minding his senses—no matter how much they were beginning to fade those days. “Now, she wants to return the favor to the rest of the galaxy.”

Hunter took a deep breath, steadying himself before he sat back up to face you. Your free hand slid to his chest as his stayed tight in yours, keeping you both close to one another as you watched the desperate shine of his gaze. “I know she will, and I know she’s capable.” He lifted an eyebrow and failed to hide the fondness in his voice. “We were the ones who trained her, after all.”

You laughed and nodded. “Yes, we were.”

The warmth in Hunter’s eyes began to fade again as he went on. “She’ll do justice for the one of us who taught her how to fly.” His shoulders started to deflate as a new grief fell upon him. It was a wound that festered within everyone’s hearts over the years, but especially Hunter’s, thanks to the guilt he could never quite conquer. “I just can’t lose her like we lost him.”

“We won’t.” You had full confidence in the quick reassurance as you lifted your hand to Hunter’s face once again. Your fingers brushed away a new tear that had escaped one of his eyes. “She was a threat to the Empire as a child. They don’t stand a chance against her now.”

Hunter at least huffed at that. “I know. I just…” He circled his jaw, his gaze floating up to the night sky as he searched for some kind of explanation.

“Your feelings don’t need rationale, Hunter.” You let go of his hand and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head upon his shoulder. You looked out at the stars, following the path Omega and her ship had taken. “The heart doesn’t recognize logic.”

Hunter took a deep breath of relief before you felt his face bury itself in your head. You both stayed like that for a long while, with only the sounds of Batcher’s gentle snoring somewhere beyond you and the waves washing on the shore filling the air. Eventually, Hunter was able to give voice to one new thought. “Why me?”

You furrowed your brow, but kept your head where it was. “What do you mean?”

Hunter adjusted so that his chin was resting upon your head. “Why is it me who’s struggling the most with this?”

You couldn’t help smiling as the truth fell upon you. You could only hope Hunter would do the same as you shared it with him. “Because you love her, Hunter. You’ve cared for her ever since the beginning, before any one of us did the same. It’s not easy to give that caretaking role up, especially when it’s been your main role ever since we stopped fighting.”

Hunter exhaled a steady breath, his lips kissing your head before he rested his cheek against it. “How you manage to have the answers to everything will never fail to amaze me.”

You chuckled and gave his waist a squeeze. “Well, it’s pretty easy to figure you out after I’ve had all these years to study you, Sarge.”

Hunter snorted, though he brought you closer as his arm held your shoulders tighter. “Having that time has made every single fight worth it. All the wins…” he took a moment to steady himself, “and the losses.”

You found one of his hands again and wove his fingers through yours, giving it a squeeze. Your own eyes closed as you found the strength to bring your words to fruition. “That’s what he gave his life for, Hunter.” You turned your head to kiss his clothed shoulder. “It was his own selfless choice, and it was never, ever your fault.”

Hunter exhaled, a shaky breath that rattled through his chest. His voice wavered as he responded. “I hope I can believe that one day.”

“You will.” You reopened your eyes and smiled as you looked into the stars yet again. “You’ll believe it when you see how much of him Omega carries in herself, and how she’ll show that when she comes home and tells us all about her adventures in this fight.”

His grip on your hand tightened as the fingers on your shoulder began to run in circles. “I miss her already.”

“So do I.” You lifted your head from his shoulder for a moment to offer him some of the strength and honesty in your gaze. He returned your look. “But she’ll be back sooner than we think.”

Hunter’s gaze searched yours even as he asked his question. “How do you know that?”

You beamed at him. “Because she’s your daughter.” You reached for the back of his neck to rest his forehead against yours once again. “And she watched as you and the others never stopped fighting to get back to your loved ones.” You nodded and ran your thumb over his lips. “She’ll do the same.”

The corners of Hunter’s mouth began to turn up in a hopeful smile as he returned your nod. Your smile widened, and you leaned close until it melted against his own—initating yet another wordless promise of the bright and loving future you still had ahead of you, even as a piece of both your hearts flew farther and farther away in the galaxy.

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

hunter tag list: @zenrobbins0021 @cw80831 @yunggoblin @maddiedrmr 

[marvel-starwars-nerd]

Wounds Unseen

summary: You and Hunter help each other through the fallout of Omega’s capture on Pabu.

pairing: sergeant hunter (tbb) x reader

tags: season 3 spoilers, angst, injuries (incl. blood), trauma, hurt/comfort, fluff

rating: T

word count: 3.298k

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

You bit your cheek to try to keep yourself silent as you limped over and over on your injured leg. The skin hadn’t stopped burning or bleeding since the blaster bolt caught it, but that didn’t stop you from walking on it and ignoring the pain as you tried your best to find Crosshair.

You had seen it all happen. The distraction, the attempted shot, and the long arc the tracker made before it ultimately missed the ship created an image within your mind that was hard to get rid of. The way your heart had fallen into the pits of your stomach was even harder to ignore.

It had broken you, but there was no doubt you weren’t nearly as broken as Crosshair was. That weight was sitting firmly on his shoulders. And Hunter…

He didn’t even know.

Neither did Wrecker, who was still unconscious in Shep’s safe room. You tightened your jaw at the thought of it. He would be devastated, but he would keep himself strong for the sake of Omega and his brothers. He had done it before for you and Hunter. You could only hope that he had taken the time to process it—and that he would do so again.

Chaos was still ensuing all around you, but you were set on your own mission. The pain hiding at the edges of your senses threatened to creep in and drown out everything else. You pushed it back, intent upon focusing on your family instead. You weren’t far from where Crosshair had made the shot.

The closer you got, the more you began to realize you weren’t the first one to find him.

Elevated voices got louder as you picked up your pace as much as you could manage. There was no mistaking the sound of Hunter’s rage, which bit through each word he spoke—or yelled. Crosshair’s responses were full of his own venom, but it was undoubtedly aimed towards himself.

Either way, they were taking their devastation out on each other, and you couldn’t sit by and let it happen, especially not when you thought of how Omega would react to it. You winced as you went even faster, never stopping until Hunter and Crosshair were in full earshot.

“Whose fault is it now?” Hunter snapped at Crosshair as you struggled down a nearby staircase. He gave Crosshair’s armored shoulder a rough shove. “Who’s the one that let her go?”

“Hunter!” You called for him from where you had just stepped off the last stair. You swallowed back a cry of pain and made your way over to them.

“This was your choice, Hunter,” Crosshair snarled in response. “You were the one who left her to me. I did the best with what you gave me!”

“My choice?” Hunter scoffed and tightened his fists at his sides. “My choice, my order, was for you to stay with her and Wrecker! It was one simple order, Crosshair!” Hunter pushed off Crosshair’s chestplate that time. “And you couldn’t even follow it!”

“Hunter!” The adrenaline thankfully helped in hiding your pain as you stood close to the two of them. Crosshair had kept his helmet on, but Hunter’s was off, and his gaze was sending his brother threatening daggers. Both their armored shoulders heaved with visible anger. You set a hand on Hunter’s and held it tight. “Stop.”

“We’ve never been keen on following orders.” Crosshair’s tone was almost smug, but you read it well. He was masking his own pain. “What else did you expect? Stormtroopers would have found us there eventually. Omega decided to focus on the bigger mission.”

Your lips tightened at the slight waver in his voice. When you looked at Hunter, he lacked any of that same sympathy towards his brother.

“Not only did you let her do that, but you also didn’t hold up your end of the plan.” Hunter stepped closer to Crosshair and jabbed a gloved finger into the center of his chestplate. “You are the reason she’s there, now, and I won’t ever let you forget that.”

“And how did getting that shuttle go?” You tensed as Crosshair began to deflect his unbearable pain. “I wasn’t the only one who failed. We all did.” Crosshair pointed his finger towards Hunter’s head. “That’s what you should remember.”

Hunter’s anger boiled over. He reached an arm back and you leapt forward without thinking. “Don’t—!”

At the same time you leaned onto your injured leg, Hunter stepped forward with his, causing his leg to hit yours just inches from your wound. You cut yourself off with your own cry of agony as your leg gave out underneath you, and you fell to the stone at Hunter’s boots.

He immediately knelt down at your side, his hands holding your shoulders before one of them cupped the side of your face. “Hey, are you okay?” He was breathless in his worry, all the anger having fled from his gaze as concern poured over in the warm depths of his eyes. Hunter gave you a worried once-over, his hand moving from your shoulder to your leg. “I’m so sorry.”

There was a hand placed on your shoulder from behind, and you looked briefly to see Crosshair knelt behind you with his helmet tilted in his own concern. Despite the pained furrow in your brow, you nodded at him and turned back to Hunter. “It wasn’t you.”

You exhaled and shifted, biting back a growl as you showed Hunter your wound. His eyes widened to double their usual size before they snapped back to your own gaze. “You got shot?”

“Barely.” You gritted your teeth as you sat up more. Hunter’s gaze fell back to your injured leg as his thumb brushed mindlessly over your cheek. “It looks worse than it feels.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re lying.” He sighed, a worried crease still knit in his brow as he put his helmet back on and began to help you up. “We need to get that patched up while it’s still fresh.”

Crosshair stood with the two of you, but he refused to look at Hunter as he spoke solely to you. “How can I help?”

You offered him a small smile. “Can you stay with Wrecker? I don’t want him to be alone when he wakes.” You deflated and let your gaze fall away from Crosshair’s visor. “Especially with…”

You trailed off, and silence sat between the three of you for a long moment. Crosshair eventually nodded and shuffled away, heading back the way you first came. You closed your eyes and leaned more into Hunter, who took the extra weight with ease. His helmet looked over at you. “Are you sure you can walk?”

You nodded, offering him the same smile you had just given Crosshair as he started to crutch you to a safe place. The most reasonable place for you two to go would have been where Wrecker still was, but Hunter clearly had no desire to be anywhere near Crosshair—and you wanted the privacy to get through to Hunter, anyway.

Hunter’s hand tightened on your side when you winced while going around a corner. “How did it happen?”

You tightened your jaw and considered your words, but the truth was what he deserved. “I was laying down cover for Crosshair.” Hunter physically bristled at your words. “I was too focused on looking between him and the ship. I missed the trooper who was hiding in my peripheral.”

Hunter sighed and gave your leg another glance. “Looks like they got you good.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “They still partially missed.”

Hunter huffed in amusement at that. “True.” He brought himself closer to your side. “Let’s just be glad it wasn’t the Imperial shadow going after you.”

Silence fell over the two of you for the rest of your journey. The chaos returned the closer you got to the homes of the Pabu islanders, causing your stomach to turn in guilt. You couldn’t imagine how it must have made Omega feel. It was no wonder that someone like her would turn herself in to make it stop.

You and Hunter eventually arrived at one of the unoccupied homes that Shep had made available to you. When you stepped inside, your chest lit aflame with anger at the sight of everything being turned over. There was no doubt the Empire had searched this place, just as they had with everyone’s homes.

It no longer felt like the secret safe haven you and Hunter got to sneak away to. Just like the Marauder, a loss you weren’t close to processing yet, this had also been taken from you. And Omega…

That was a void you refused to acknowledge just yet.

Hunter moved away from your side to lift a chair up from where it had been knocked onto the floor. He then held you by the shoulders and eased you down onto it, urging you to keep your injured leg straight before he knelt down in front of it. Hunter was swift in removing his helmet and his pack. He sifted through its contents and pulled out the medpac.

As Hunter began to work, he tightened his jaw and spoke in a low voice. “I should’ve been there.”

You shook your head at him. “You were doing your part.” When Hunter didn’t respond, you set your hand over his, which had been offering him stability. “Crosshair didn’t mean what he said.”

Hunter gave you a quick warning glance, but it wasn’t threatening. The devastation in his gaze spoke for him.

“And I hope you didn’t mean what you said to Crosshair.”

Hunter continued his work on your wound even as he distanced himself from you. His hand slid out from under yours. “So, you’re taking his side?”

You sighed heavily. “There’s no side to take, Hunter.”

Hunter gave you an incredulous look. “He let her—.”

“He didn’t let her do anything.” You circled your jaw at him, conveying your severity. “Omega was going to turn herself in no matter what Crosshair said. She was set on it.”

Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “You say that like you were there.”

“I was.”

Hunter froze where he was, and a flash of betrayal lit up his brown gaze for a moment. It struck your heart, but you didn’t let that show. It was only after a long, tense pause that Hunter spoke in a chilling voice. “Then you let her do it, too?”

“I was with Wrecker, and they were also there. Like I said before, Omega was going to do it no matter what.” You glanced down at your lap, remembering that last embrace you had given her. “She wanted to get the coordinates to Tantiss. Not for herself, but for all the clones who are trapped there.” You scoffed and picked at the material of your pants. “She’s braver than any of us.”

When you gained the faith to look at Hunter again, you were devastated to see him kneeling there with his head hung low. His eyes were closed as if he was in pain. “There wasn’t anything we could have done?” His voice was hushed.

You lifted a hand to the side of Hunter’s face, urging him to look at you again as you caressed his flushed skin. “No, there wasn’t.” Hunter leaned into your touch and closed his eyes again. “Crosshair tried to talk her out of it. He was just as reluctant as any of us would have been.” Hunter reopened his eyes at that, and you ran your thumb over his cheek to soothe him. “And then he alone had to be responsible for the last part of the plan.”

Hunter’s gaze began to dart around the room as he cursed under his breath. He was gentle in holding your wrist to drop your hand from his face. “He’s already been worried enough about his shot with his hand.”

You nodded, grimacing with him as he processed everything. Hunter brought his hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, his armored shoulders rising and falling in a deep, heavy breath. He then shook his head.

“I messed up.” Hunter scoffed at himself. “Again.” You pulled the corners of your mouth tight in sympathy for him as he went on. “He’s already blaming himself, and I made it worse.”

You brushed some of the tufts of hair away from Hunter’s face, making him glance up at you again. You offered him an encouraging smile. “It’s not too late to make it right.”

Hunter returned your smile, but only for a moment. “Right. But first,” he turned his attention back to the medpac, “I have to make this right.”

You chuckled at that, just to wince when Hunter began to clean the wound. He let you hold his wrist while he worked, and you squeezed it any time the pain was too much. He would pause and give you time before trying again.

It reminded you of the times you would patch him up on the Marauder, both during the war and after. The thought of the ship made your heart sink yet again. It wasn’t just a ship to  all of you, or even just a temporary home.

It was one of the last pieces you had of Tech.

“I can’t believe the Marauder’s gone.” Your voice was a haunted whisper as you spoke.

The genuine sadness in your tone earned Hunter’s gaze. “I know.” He set a comforting hand on your non-injured leg. “It’s gonna be an adjustment.”

Sudden emotion began to well up in you. “I just… it always made me think of…”

Hunter’s eyes glazed over in understanding as he rose to his feet. “I know.” He repeated the words in a softer tone than before. Hunter held you against him for a long moment, your cheek pressed against his armor as he set a gentle kiss on your head. “At least Omega kept his goggles safe.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and willed the tear that hung on your lashes not to fall. Your voice was a broken whisper as you went on. “I miss him so much, Hunt.”

Hunter held you closer. “I do, too.” His own voice wavered, a rare occurrence for the one who always made himself so strong for the sake of his squad. “Things would be very different if he was… still around.”

You heaved a deep breath and stayed close to Hunter until you gained the strength to break away from him. He knelt back down to your level and wiped away the single tear with his thumb. You noticed he wasn’t far from shedding a tear himself. You shifted your focus onto him as you held his face between your hands. “How are you feeling about it?”

Hunter’s brow wrinkled together. “About what?”

You resisted the urge to scoff. “All of it.”

Hunter parted his lips to speak, then stopped. His gaze fell, and he circled his jaw the way he often did when he was struggling to maintain his composure. You ran your thumbs across his cheeks and waited patiently for him. His voice was a shattered remnant of himself when he spoke. “It feels like we just got her back.”

You eased your forehead against his and nodded. “I know,” you repeated Hunter’s own words from before. “But it was only a matter of time until they caught up to us.”

Hunter closed his eyes and held your wrists like he would fall away from the galaxy if he let go. “I can’t believe we have to do this again.” He shook his head, minding yours that still rested against his own. “We have to live this nightmare again.”

You sat in silence for a few moments before you dared to respond. “Omega’s strong, Hunter. She’ll be okay in there.” You took a deep breath. “But we have to make good on the plan. It’s not too late, yet. We can still find Tantiss.”

Hunter opened his eyes and looked at you with defeat. “How?”

You offered the most encouraging smile you could muster. “We’ll find a way. We always do, somehow.”

Hunter’s gaze searched yours as he tried to convince himself of your words. Eventually, he began to break into the smallest of smiles. “This is why you’re Sunny.” He lifted a hand to brush his thumb over your lips. “Our bright light in the dark.” He leaned closer at the same time as you, his mouth nearly on yours as he whispered one last thing. “My Sun.”

He closed the gap, letting the two of you indulge in the sweetest possible source of relief, comfort, and love. It was always those moments that allowed the two of you to escape the cruelty of the galaxy for even just a small sliver of time, where all you had to conceive of was one another and the affection you so deeply shared. It had taken a long time to get to that point, but now that you were there, neither one of you would ever take it for granted.

You pulled away with lingering lips, reluctant to let go of the moment as you faced reality once again. “We need to get back to Wrecker and Crosshair.”

Hunter exhaled softly and nodded to agree with you. You brushed a fallen piece of hair out of his face as he went back to finishing the dressing on your wound. He worked quickly with the clarity that your brief display of affection had provided, and soon, he was crutching you back to Shep’s. 

Some of the chaos had died down, with the Imperial forces having abandoned the island—and leaving it to burn. You scoffed to yourself at the mere thought of it. The livelihood of all the islanders was destroyed, and the Empire couldn’t have cared less. Knowing Omega was in their “care” made you sick.

When you got to Shep’s, you were disturbed to see that Wrecker still hadn’t woken. Crosshair rose from his place at Wrecker’s side, his helmet removed and his gaze fixed on anything and anyone except for Hunter. You shared an understanding glance with Hunter as he set you down beside Wrecker. He nodded and gently squeezed your non-injured thigh before turning to his brother.

“Crosshair.” Hunter cleared his throat as Crosshair met his gaze. “Can I speak with you, outside?”

Crosshair gave you a quick look, and you nodded in reassurance. He repeated the gesture to Hunter and let him lead the way outside. Hunter didn’t take them far, and they were only partially out of your view from the doorway. While you couldn’t hear what they were saying, you watched to see how it all would go, your hand resting on Wrecker’s boot for comfort.

Their rapport looked much calmer than before, and your chest began to warm when Hunter set a hand on Crosshair’s shoulder. You were shocked when that gesture turned into something more, with Hunter offering his brother a comforting embrace. You couldn’t help smiling to yourself as they stayed there for a while.

You all had lost a lot that day, but there was no one person to blame—no one except the Empire. Now that you were united once again, they didn’t stand a single chance, and you were relieved that you helped Hunter to understand that. Hemlock could watch his back, but that wouldn’t be enough. None of you would stop until Omega was free, once and for all.

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

[marvel-starwars-nerd]

Pieces We Mend ~ Scorch x F! Technician Reader

Summary: Scorch rushes to his go-to weapons technician to repair his beloved blaster for the umpteenth time. When sharing stories of his deployment takes an unexpected turn, scars of your past are revealed. Delta Squad Week Day 2 - Scars (Happy Scorch Day!) Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: Canon-typical violence, panic attack, mentions of death, PTSD, if I missed anything lmk! A/N: I went a little out of my comfort zone for this one! Even this is only "day 2", I'm having so much fun writing these! tagging @deltasquadweek for hosting! join my taglist / masterlist

The familiar hiss of the workshop door signaled trouble long before you glanced up from your work. Sure enough, there he was. Given the fact that Delta Squad just returned from their latest mission, Scorch was perfectly on schedule. He was leaning in the doorway with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth and his mangled DC-17m in his hand.

“Guess who needs a miracle worker today?” Scorch called, his voice echoing through the workroom.

You sighed dramatically, setting down the delicate wiring you’d been adjusting, “Scorch, don’t tell me. Again?”

He sauntered in, presenting the blaster to you like a prize, “What can I say? Separatists don’t go easy on the fun.”

You set the blaster carefully on the workbench, your fingers already itching to get it apart and see what kind of damage he’d done this time. As a mobile weapons technician stationed on whichever Cruiser you are most needed, you're used to working on crucial weapons developments, not repairs. And although your specialty was keeping the ship’s arsenal in top shape, your secret satisfaction came from working with Delta Squad.

Throughout the war, you’d built a quiet reputation as their go-to person for weapon repairs. Scorch, in particular, seemed to break his gear more often than anyone else, whether through bad luck or overzealous combat style. It wasn’t just about fixing blasters for you, it was about being part of their missions, even if indirectly. They made your role feel vital, even if you mostly stayed behind the scenes.

You glanced up at Scorch, a teasing smile playing on your lips, “Give me a minute to work my magic.”

He chuckled, throwing his head back against the durasteel walls as if this ritual was the highlight of his day, "You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”

You gave a mock salute, already grabbing your tools and prepping the workspace, “Don’t get used to it.”

You settled into your workbench, reaching for your perfectly placed tools from muscle memory. Scorch pulled up a nearby crate, dropping down beside you with a grunt that sounded less like complaint and more like release.

“This thing’s seen better days,” you grimiced, turning the DC-17m over in your hands.

“You think?” he frowned, crossing his arms, “Last mission was rough. The clankers hit us harder than expected. I guess it took a couple of nasty hits.”

You nodded, eyes scanning the blaster’s internals, “Well, no wonder it’s falling apart. You really put these weapons through hell.”

Scorch watched you work with something like quiet admiration but you didn’t notice. Your focus was absolute, the way you handled each component with care and precision betraying the countless hours you’d spent mastering this craft.

“You always this good at fixing our messes?” he asked, shaking his head with a chuckle.

You glanced up, flashing him a half-smile, “If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t keep bringing me your broken toys.”

He grinned, but the usual bravado softened, replaced by something gentler, “Guess I’m lucky then.”

As you worked, Scorch found himself watching you more than his precious blaster. It wasn’t just because you were skilled, although he was impressed, but because you were you.

He shifted on the crate, suddenly self-conscious. Normally, he’d crack a joke or throw out a casual comment to break the silence, but right now his throat felt dry and words stuck halfway. He felt ridiculous. He was a soldier, trained for countless battles, but here, alone with you, he felt like a rookie.

He caught himself stealing a glance at your profile. He mentally noted the way your brow creased slightly when you concentrated, the faint smile tugging at your lips when a tricky part clicked into place, and subtle shake of your head when something just wasn't placing right. It was those little things he hadn’t noticed before, or maybe he just hadn’t allowed himself to see.

It made his chest tighten, though he couldn’t quite put the feeling into words. It was admiration, sure, but also mixed with something warmer, something deeper that he wasn’t ready to name. He wasn’t sure if it was respect, longing, or just the simple fact that being near you made the world feel a little less war-torn.

“Hey,” he said finally, voice rougher than intended, breaking the silence, “Thanks for always taking care of us.”

You didn’t look up right away, but the softness in your response was unmistakable, “It’s what I’m here for.”

He nodded, eyes dropping to the floor again. Part of him wanted to say more. He wanted to tell you how often he thought about you when you weren’t around, how your presence was something he looked forward to more than he dared admit even to himself. How just knowing you were there, repairing his gear, made the chaos of war seem a little less overwhelming.

But instead, he stayed quiet, afraid that saying too much might shatter the friendship between you.

Scorch clenched his fists lightly, a small frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. He internally kicked himself for not being good at this. He was trying though. Trying to be close without crossing a line. Trying to hold onto these moments, even if all he could do was watch from the sidelines.

So he settled for watching you work, hoping somehow you might see the way he looked at you even when the words failed him.

You finally looked up from the blaster, wiping a smudge of grease off your fingers, “So,” you look over at the abnormally silent Scorch, “any new battle stories to share? Something exciting that caused this latest destruction?”

Scorch leaned back a bit, running a hand over the back of his neck, clearly a bit uncomfortable but eager to talk, “Yeah, a few. Nothing too crazy.” He paused, then glances at you, noticing how your eyes are fixed on him, patient and attentive.

“Well, there was this one run near the Outer Rim. We got pinned down by a droid ambush. Lot of close calls, but we made it out. Barely," he dropped his head, looking at his hands clasped firmly in his lap.

Some cross between a laugh, snort and exhale escaped his lips, "Oh! On Tatooine, this eopie emptied its bladder on Sev. He reeked for days!"

You burst into laugher, "You're making that one up!"

Scorch held his hand in false surrender, "I swear, soldiers honor! And if you don't believe me, go take a wiff of his armor."

"I'll take you word," you chucked, a smile smeared across your face,

He let the silence settle for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued, “We were also on Empress Teta recently. That mission was rough.”

Your hands froze mid-motion, letting the blaster slip from your grip and clatter against the workbench. Your breath hiccuped in your throat, and suddenly the air felt too thick, too heavy. Your chest tightened painfully while your breaths became shallow, rapid gasps that catch in your throat.

Panic spiked. Your vision blurred at the edges. The workshop lights were suddenly too bright, the hum of machinery too loud. You press a trembling hand to your chest, struggling to slow the frantic rhythm of your heart.

Scorch’s eyes snap to you, concern flashing immediately across his face as he jumped from the crate, “Hey, you okay?” he asked, slowly making his way to you.

You couldn't answer. You shook your head slightly, but your body continued to betray you. Your hands were clamming uncontrollably, making you feel like you were on the verge of collapse.

Without hesitation, Scorch moved closer, steadying your shoulders with firm but gentle hands, “Breathe with me, okay? In and out.” His voice was calm and steady like a lifeline pulling you back from the edge.

You tried to focus on his words, matching your breath to his measured rhythm. Each breath felt shaky at first, like you were dragging air through a narrow tunnel, but with Scorch’s quiet presence anchoring you, the panic began to lose its grip.

Your heart still pounded in your chest, but the sharp sting in your lungs dulled slightly. Scorch’s hands were steady on your shoulders, grounding you in the moment, reminding you you weren’t alone.

After several long breaths, you slowly lifted your head, your eyes meeting his concerned gaze. His expression softened instantly, filled with a tenderness you hadn’t expected.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, “Just relax. Whatever it is, it's okay now.”

Your lips trembled and you let out a shaky breath, your voice cracking, “When the war started and the first wave of droid attacks hit Empress Teta, I was there with my family.”

Scorch pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, keeping his hands firm on your shoulders.

“We were just civilians,” you continued, “We lived in one of the trade districts. We didn't have much. My parents ran a shop and my younger brother loved to tinker with old droid parts. I was helping in the workshop when the attack alarms went off,” you swallowed hard, feeling your throat tighten, but you pushed through, needing to let the words out.

“At first, we didn’t even know what was happening. People were shouting in the streets, the sky was filled with fire. The Separatists moving in faster than anyone could react. My father tried to stay calm and get us to safety, but there was nowhere to go. The droids were everywhere, tearing through buildings and shooting down anyone who got in their way.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, recalling the frantic scramble for cover, “My mother was hit when we were trying to get to the underground shelter. My father stayed with her. He wouldn’t leave her side. I knew that the moment my mother fell. So, I grabbed my brother’s hand and ran.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you turned your head, looking off at the back wall of your workspace, “I thought he was right behind me, but when I turned a corner he wasn’t there anymore. The blaster fire kept getting heavier and heavier. I wanted to go back, but I couldn’t. The droids were closing in. I barely even made it into a maintenance tunnel. When I did get there, I hid hours; listening to the fighting, the screams and the fire to end.”

You gulped while Scorch tightened his protective grip on your shoulders. “You did what you had to do to survive,” he reassured you.

“When I couldn’t hear them anymore,” you continued, "I crawled through the tunnels until I found a shuttleport on the outskirts. Most of it was rubble, but one transport was still intact and abandoned. I didn’t even know how to fly it. I just had to leave.”

Your hands trembled again, but this time, Scorch released your shoulders and held both your hands. “I ended up on Coruscant. I was barely old enough to sign on for this job, but I had enough training from my family’s workshop to be useful. That’s how I got assigned to this ship. I thought if I could fix something, if I could help the Republic, maybe it would mean something. Maybe I could avenge my family.”

You met Scorch’s gaze again, eyes shining with tears, “I tried to forget it, but every day, I've been afraid someone will mention Empress Teta, and it would all come rushing back.”

His expression shifted from concern to deep, almost painful guilt, “I-I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his own regret, “If I’d known-”

You shook your head quickly, tightening your hold on his hands before he could pull away, “Scorch, no. You couldn’t have known. How could you?” You took a shallow breath, trying to soothe not only yourself but him, “It’s not your fault. You were just sharing your story, and—” your voice broke a little, “it’s okay. Really.”

His brows furrowed, “But I could see how it affected you, how it just broke something open. I should have noticed, should have realized you were struggling.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you repeated, “I’ve gotten good at hiding it. You were just being you. I enjoy hearing you talk about your missions. It makes me smile. I need that, and I still do.”

Scorch exhaled slowly, “We all have scars. Physical ones, mental ones. You’re not the only one carrying those invisible wounds.” He hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly to your joined hands, before meeting your eyes again with an intensity that made your breath feel steady again, “but maybe, if you don’t have to carry all that weight of survivor’s guilt on your own those scars won’t burrow as deep.”

The silence that followed only lasted a few moments before you let the remainder of your tears stream down your face. He wasn’t offering easy answers or false promises. He was simply offering himself, his presence, and his strength, so you didn’t have to bear it alone. He was offering to be rock that you lost.

The playful commando who’d always brought you stories and laughter just revealed the depth of his empathy. You felt the lump rising in your throat again, but this time it wasn’t panic or fear, it was the realization that even though your family was gone, you could still be loved.

Slowly, you nodded, your words barely audible, “Thank you, Scorch.”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he tugged you into a hug, one arm around your shoulders, the other wrapping around your back, holding you securely against him. It wasn’t a brief, polite hug. It was the kind of embrace that said I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. You felt his chest rise and fall with each steady breath, the warmth of him seeping into your skin.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into him, your hands fisting lightly against the plates of his armor as you soaked in the quiet comfort. His hand cradled the back of your head gently, fingers running through your hair. It was a rare tenderness from someone so used to chaos rather than offering comfort.

After a long moment, you pulled back slightly, cheeks flushed, though you didn’t completely break away from his arms, “I’m sorry I couldn’t fix your blaster.”

Scorch gave a soft huff of laughter, shaking his head as his thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away a stray tear, “Unbelievable,” he murmured, his tone light but laced with affection, “You think I’m still worried about that thing?” His grin softened as he tilted his head, “You’ve always taken care of me and my gear. Maybe it’s time I start taking care of you.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words. He said them so effortlessly and naturally, as though it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. Yet, behind his playful tone, you could feel the sincerity.

“But your beloved weapon,” you whined, looking at the fried internals of the DC-17m across your workspace.

He pulled you in for another hug and chuckled against your ear, “Cyar’ika,” he teased, the Mando’a slipping out, “my DC-17m’s just a blaster. You matter more than a silly weapon.”

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you couldn't help but smile. You didn’t know what the future would bring, or if you’d find the courage to confess your feelings, but in that moment, wrapped in his arms, the weight of survivor’s guilt felt a little lighter.

For the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as alone as you thought.

[marvel-starwars-nerd]

Quiet Minds

character: Hunter (The Bad Batch)

prompts: "You know you can always talk to me." / "You have no idea how much you mean to me."

warnings: anxiety attack

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

Your durasteel grip on the refresher's sink was the only thing keeping you steady as you spiraled quickly, descending into darkness like the water that circled the drain. Each breath you took was a battle, evidenced by your shaky inhales and gasping exhales.

Your chest squeezed just as tight as your eyelids, adding yet another distraction that kept you from steadying your breath. Everything was just happening too fast. Your mind, heart, and body were competing in an endless, impossible race, and there was no way for you to catch up.

When every day was spent on the cusp of danger, it was hard not to fall into this pit of despair time and time again, especially when you were haunted by the close calls you had witnessed every time you closed your eyes.

It was a combination of Hunter's smoking chestplate and his figure descending from the Marauder's ramp that had gotten you this time. It always came back to him somehow.

You tucked your chin towards your chest in a futile effort to loosen the pressure in your chest. Your arms were starting to tremble with the rest of your body, making them even less reliable supports as you continued to lean upon the sink.

What if, those two words taunted you relentlessly. What if. What if. What if.

What if Hunter hadn't made it. What if something actually happened to him, or any of them. What if you were alone again.

The cacophony of dark thoughts was so loud inside your own mind that you barely heard the sound of the refresher door sliding open. Still, your head jerked in that direction as a fresh wave of dread washed over you. You had come in here because you hadn't wanted anyone to see you like this.

But there he was, as if you'd somehow summoned him. Any traces of exhaustion vanished from Hunter's expression as he observed you with wide, concerned eyes.

He stepped inside the refresher and all but slammed his hand on the panel to secure it closed behind him in one fluid movement. "What's going on?" He was at your side in seconds, his hands set on your shoulders as he began to turn you towards him. "I could hear you from my bunk."

As soon as your grip was forced away from the edge of the sink, your unsteady knees buckled beneath you. Hunter caught you the best he could, but he was still forced to kneel down onto the durasteel floor with you. Every breath had turned into nothing but gasps as you held onto his arms like they were buoys in the middle of a vast, endless ocean.

You forced out whatever words you could into a single, breathless gasp. "Can't breathe."

Hunter's brow furrowed even more in both concern and distress. His dark gaze gave you a worried once-over. "Okay." His voice was shakier than usual, but still projected the same comforting firmness you needed. "Okay, hold on."

Hunter stayed on the floor with you as he eased himself towards the nearest hull, taking you with him. His back rested against the hull as he gently pulled you against him. With your back upon his chest, you moved with each steady breath he took, already establishing a calming rhythm for you to follow. Hunter's arms wrapped around your middle, keeping you even more steady, as the side of his head rested against yours.

"Breathe with me. Okay?" Hunter's characteristically smoky voice was as low as usual, but it was also softer, no more than a whisper that was as gentle as the accidental brush of his lips over your ear. "You're alright. You're safe here. We're all safe."

It was the repetition of those words along with the steady rise-and-fall of his chest underneath you that finally pulled you from your endless spiral. You closed your eyes and focused on his voice and his breathing, letting it drown out the sounds of your own struggle. There wasn't time to be embarrassed yet about being caught by him, though it was certainly inevitable. For now, you let him comfort you and pull you out of the crashing waves of fear and dread.

Once you had settled down enough to mostly settle back into your rational mind, you had to fight the urge to push Hunter away, as desperate as you were to have him this close. You hadn't wanted any of them to see you like this, but Hunter least of all. Becoming another worry on his list was your greatest fear.

He had enough to worry about as it was. All you wanted to be for him was a source of joy and light, not the darkness that weighed heavier and heavier on his shoulders with each unpredictable passing day on the run.

"I'm sorry."

Your voice was just as hushed as Hunter's had been, your gaze downcast as you gently eased his hands off you and instead turned around to face him. Hunter's brow furrowed in questioning as he returned your stare.

"I didn't mean to wake you up."

Hunter let out a grunt of clear disapproval. "You should've woken me up." His expression morphed into something like desperation. "Why would you try to get through that alone?"

You shook your head. "It's fine, Hunter, I swear. I'm used..."

You inhaled a sharp breath and forced yourself to stop. Your eyes widened, because the damage had already been done, even if you tried to stop it. Hunter's own eyes grew larger as the realization dawned upon him, his body tensing along with the muscle that flexed in his jaw.

"This... isn't the first time something like this has happened?"

You couldn't look at him anymore. You stared at the durasteel floor as your fingers fumbled with one another in your lap. "No, it's not."

Hunter let out a sigh, but it was far from being one of annoyance. He waited a few beats before speaking again, his voice strained in sweet severity. "You know you can always talk to me."

You could have physically cringed at the hint of hurt you caught in his tone, as if he feared that you didn't trust him enough to tell him. It caused your gaze to snap back up to him, but the way his eyes searched yours was too beautifully sincere for you to handle. You diverted your stare once again and could only let out your confession in a whisper.

"I don't want you to have to take on another burden. You have enough to worry about as it is."

Hunter didn't respond right away. Instead, he shuffled closer to you again, close enough that he could set a careful hand on your shoulder. The touch earned him your attention again, and your mouth nearly went dry at how close he truly was to you.

"You're not a burden." Hunter shook his head, his eyes more expressive than you'd ever seen them before as he begged for you to believe his words. "Don't ever think of yourself like that."

He let out another sigh, but this one was lighter than before. Your lips parted in surprise as he closed his eyes and leaned closer to you, only stopping once his forehead was touching yours in the most intimate, gentle way.

"You have no idea how much you mean to me."

It was hard not to soften as soon as you heard the honest, genuine words leave his lips. It would be so unfair for you not to reciprocate the vulnerable gesture.

"I think I do."

Your words caused Hunter to reopen his eyes, his amber gaze filling with curiosity as it searched your own up close. You steadied yourself with a quiet breath and went on.

"Because it was you I was worrying about."

Hunter leaned back from you and blinked a few times in surprise. "Me?"

You looked down in embarrassment again. "You've had some close calls lately. I just... I can't stop thinking about the what-ifs. What if something had happened to you. What if something does happen to you. Or the rest of them. I can't..."

"Hey."

Hunter's voice perfectly balanced gentleness with firmness as he set a hand on your cheek. The gesture earned your attention again, and it was easy to lose yourself in the pure comfort of his soft gaze. His eyes flitted between yours before he nodded.

"You don't have to worry about me."

You frowned. "But I do anyway." Your brow creased in your own desperation for understanding. "Because you mean a lot to me, too."

Hunter softened, but only for a moment. His jaw was soon hardening as his gaze fell to the floor. His thumb was gently running over your cheek in absentminded strokes, but everything else was hard edges as his stare searched the durasteel beneath you.

"I hate that I'm putting you through this."

You frowned even more harshly than before. "You're not." You wrapped your hand around his wrist in an attempt to comfort him. "It's not your fault. It's just..."

You trailed off, trying to find the right words. Hunter was eventually able to fill the space.

"I understand."

Your gaze met Hunter's as he nodded and went on.

"It's the same reason why I don't sleep well. I never have. I'm always thinking about the what-ifs, and... especially recently... the what-I-could-have-done-betters."

You took his hand from your face and set it between both of yours. "Hunter..."

"I think..." The sergeant was rarely shy, but now, he seemed timid as he watched your hands and made his suggestion. "We just have to stop worrying on our own." He let out a huff and shook his head. "Our minds are doing us no favors."

You were able to offer him a small smile. "I think you're right."

You quieted your mind for once, taking Hunter's advice, and leaned towards him. You wrapped your arms around his waist the way he had with you not long ago, but this time, your chest was upon his own as you rested your cheek against his shoulder and relaxed into him. It only took Hunter a single breath to do the same, his arms circling you as he relaxed underneath your touch.

"No more listening to our minds."

You felt Hunter's chin rest upon your head before he responded with a smile in his voice. "No more. Just... whatever this is."

You closed your eyes and smiled. "Agreed."

[marvel-starwars-nerd]

Full Plates, Fuller Hearts ~ Sev x F!Civilian Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend, Sev, is back on Coruscant after a long mission, so you decide to treat him to a special home-cooked dinner. Delta Squad Week Day 1 - Dinner Word Count: 2.4k (These are going to be shorter than my recent fics because I last minute wanted to participate but quality over quantity, right?) Warnings: Established relationship, Kissing, Cuddling (it's mostly fluff), hints to spice at the end although not explicitly stated, lmk if I missed anything! A/N: I JUST found out about Delta Squad Week and wanted to participate, so I literally spent all day today writing little bits for each of the day's themes! No better way to kick off the week with my favorite Delta Squad boy - Sev! Tagging @deltasquadweek for hosting! join my taglist / masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hummed in content, "My place."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Comfy?” he asked softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When Sev scooped you up, carrying you bridal style to your room, you knew the night was far from over.

[marvel-starwars-nerd]

What Comes After ~ Kix x F!Jedi Reader

Summary: Trapped together during a dangerous mission, you and Kix navigate both a tunnel on Utapau and the feelings you’ve hidden for too long.

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: Canon-typical violence (it's mostly fluff today!)

A/N: i loved seeing all the love for Kix in my latest poll! writing this actually put me in my Kix feels again. he's literally so precious and would absolutely be a perfect husband. if this does well enough (or enough people ask) i'll absolutely make a part 2 bc i'm simping hard for this man rn. anyways, I digress, enjoy 🫶

join my taglist / masterlist

The hangar bay of the Resolute thrummed with life. The cold, metallic air shimmered under the brilliant lights that bounced off durasteel hulls and rows of meticulously stacked crates. Shinies in crisp white armor moved like clockwork, securing gear, checking supplies, and loading equipment into waiting gunships. The familiar scent of lubricants, ozone, and the faint undercurrent of blaster residue clung to every surface, a constant reminder of the war’s omnipresence.

Kix stood among them, his helmet tucked beneath one arm, though his gaze was far from the tactical maps flickering in blue holo-light in front of him. His body was present, lined up alongside his brothers in the 501st, listening, or at least pretending to, while Captain Rex outlined their next mission with his usual calm precision. But his mind, stubborn and reckless, was elsewhere.

It was on you.

You stood a few meters away, your Jedi robes catching the faint breeze stirred by the gunships’ idle repulsorlifts. The glow of the holo-map lit your face in soft blue, accentuating the sharp focus in your eyes as you absorbed the briefing’s details. The way you tilted your head, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of your lightsaber, was a picture burned into Kix’s memory.

He should have been listening. Rex’s words were clear: infiltration of Utapau’s sinkhole systems, suspected Separatist droid operations, possible environmental hazards. But all Kix could hear was the steady, traitorous thrum of his heartbeat in his ears, the slight tightening in his chest whenever you so much as shifted your weight or brushed a flyaway strand of hair from your face.

He began to wonder when his infatuation with you started. Kix didn’t know exactly. Maybe it was that day on Kamino when you first arrived to join the 501st, presenting an unfamiliar face in the midst of sterile white corridors and the hum of rain on the domes. He’d noticed you then, not just because you were new, but because of how you carried yourself. Jedi often walked with detachment, a weight of the galaxy’s burdens on their shoulders, but you met the clones’ eyes. You spoke with them, not at them. You asked for names, not ranks.

Or maybe it was that deployment on Felucia. He remembered watching you work in the medbay after a mission, your sleeves rolled up, fingers steady as you healed a trooper’s shattered arm. You’d been exhausted, the stress lines faint at the corners of your mouth, but you’d still let out a tired and small, but genuine smile. And when Kix had offered to finish suturing the wound for you, your hands had brushed his, warm and grounding. He’d felt the spark then, quick and fleeting like the crackle of a deflector shield.

But it hadn’t faded. If anything, it had deepened into something more dangerous.

He caught himself staring again and quickly looked away, focusing instead on the lines of the hangar floor and the scuffed boots of Fives beside him.

“Hey, Kix,” came a voice at his side. Jesse’s tone was low, teasing, but not unkind, “You with us, or have you drifted off into love-struck oblivion?”

Kix scowled faintly but didn’t respond immediately. Jesse nudged him with an elbow.

Hardcase leaned in from the other side, his grin wide beneath his helmet, “C’mon, we’ve all seen the way you look at her. You’ve got it bad.”

“I do not,” Kix said, a touch more sharply than he intended, his cheeks warming beneath the cool metal of his helmet.

Fives, ever the opportunist, smirked, “What’s the matter, Kix? Scared she’s going to read your mind? Jedi can do that, you know.”

“I’m not—” Kix started, but Jesse cut him off, his grin widening.

“Relax, we’re just giving it to you. But if you faint during the mission because you’re too busy staring, we’ll have to carry you out.”

The others chuckled, and even Rex, though maintaining his composed expression, allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch in amusement.

Kix exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head, but he couldn’t fully suppress the smile threatening at the edges of his lips. His brothers meant well, and their ribbing, though embarrassing, felt like a grounding force amid the swirl of emotions he tried so hard to keep locked down.

The briefing concluded, and the troopers began to break formation, heading toward the waiting gunships. Kix adjusted the strap of his medpack across his chest, mentally reviewing the contents: bacta patches, field sealant, stim injectors, painkillers. He was too caught up in his own thoughts to realize he was standing still amidst the scattering of troops around him.

You approached him, your stride sure and light, your expression softening as you drew near, “Kix,” you said, your voice quiet but firm  “Are you ready?”

His throat tightened briefly, and he had to clear it before answering, “Yes, General. I’m ready.”

Your eyes met his, trying to ground him, but keeping a faint glimmer of something he couldn’t quite name, “Good. Stay close during the descent. I might need you.”

“I’ll be right there then."

As you turned to join the other Jedi boarding the gunships, Kix felt a pang of something sharp and tender twist beneath his ribs. He watched you for a moment longer before pulling his helmet into place. The world narrowed to the faint hiss of the seal locking and the muted sounds of the hangar outside.

Inside the gunship, he settled onto one of the benches beside Jesse and Hardcase, the others filling in around them. The rumble of the engines vibrated up through his boots, a low, comforting growl. The doors sealed shut, and the hangar fell away beneath them as the gunships lifted into the upper atmosphere.

The others continued their light banter, but Kix’s thoughts were elsewhere. He stared at the floor of the gunship, the scuffed metal, the faint traces of carbon scoring from past engagements. His pulse quickened as he replayed your brief exchange in his mind, dissecting every nuance of your expression, the subtle tilt of your lips, the glimmer in your eyes.

Naturally, he wanted to kick himself for being like this and not being able to push the feelings aside, like he was supposed to. Jedi were meant to be unattainable, distant. Attachments were forbidden. For you, love could mean danger, vulnerability, a risk to everything you fought for. But still, he felt the pull of something deeper, the ache of wanting more than friendship, more than duty.

Kix’s fingers curled slightly against the edge of his medkit. He couldn’t afford distractions. Not here, not now. The mission came first. His brothers depended on him to keep them alive, to mend their wounds and hold the line.

Yet his thoughts turned stubborn, reckless, insistent. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe it was dangerous. But if this mission went sideways, if something happened and you were hurt, Kix knew with a grim certainty that he’d move the stars to protect you.

Utapau’s surface stretched out beneath them as the gunships banked into descent. The world’s vast sinkholes yawned open like gaping mouths, their depths shadowed and secretive. From the upper atmosphere, the craggy edges of the sinkholes seemed almost delicate, like fragile lacework carved into the planet’s crust. But Kix knew those caverns were deep and treacherous, filled with unseen dangers and potential collapse points.

As the gunship shuddered slightly, dropping altitude, he glanced at you across the compartment. You sat with Anakin and Ahsoka, head bowed in concentration, perhaps meditating or simply preparing yourself for the challenge ahead.

In that moment, as the gunship’s engines roared and the ground loomed closer, Kix let himself feel the weight of his heart in his chest, the unspoken promise he’d made to himself. Whatever awaited them at the surface, he wouldn’t let you face it alone.

The gunship rocked violently as it descended into the sinkhole. Dust and grit battered against the viewports, painting streaks of dirt and shadow across the armored glass. Below them, Utapau’s craters swallowed the gunships whole, the sun’s light fading to a thin, dusty glow as they dropped deeper into the sinkhole’s throat.

Kix tightened his grip on the bench’s handholds, the vibration of the repulsorlifts rattling up through his armor. The hangar’s bright lights were gone now, replaced by the oppressive darkness of Utapau’s cavernous depths. The air grew heavier, the temperature cooler, the walls of the sinkhole rising like jagged teeth around them.

Beside him, Jesse murmured, “Lovely place for a picnic, huh?”

Hardcase snorted, but Kix barely heard them. His eyes, though obscured by his visor, were fixed on you as you rose from your seat to glance toward the cockpit. You leaned slightly forward, bracing yourself against the wall, the faint light catching in your hair.

The gunship bucked as it banked hard to the right. The pilot’s voice crackled through the comms, "Approaching LZ. Separatist contacts on the outer rim of the sinkhole. Prepare for insertion.”

Kix felt his pulse quicken. He shifted his weight, checking his medkit with a practiced motion, double-checking the placement of the emergency bacta and ensuring his field injectors were secure. His armor felt heavier here, the close walls of the sinkhole pressing in around them, but he welcomed the weight.

The gunship’s side doors hissed open as the repulsorlifts strained to hold them steady against the swirling dust and debris. Below, the landing zone, a narrow ledge near the mouth of a cavern waited, but already, Kix could see flashes of blue and red as blaster fire crisscrossed the air.

“Go, go, go!” Rex’s voice cut through the noise. The troopers surged forward, dropping from the gunship’s skids with practiced efficiency. Kix was among them, landing in a crouch and immediately scanning the surroundings.

The air was thick with dust, the tang of electric from blaster bolts, and the distant rumble of shifting rock. The enemy wasn’t concentrated but instead was scattered pockets of droids taking potshots from behind boulders and natural outcroppings. But the terrain was treacherous and narrow ledge was uneven, riddled with fissures and loose stone.

You landed nearby, your lightsaber igniting with a snap-hiss of brilliant blue. The blade’s glow cast flickering shadows on the cavern walls as you deflected incoming fire, your movements swift and precise. Kix felt a sharp jolt of admiration, and perhaps something more, as he saw you turn, briefly, to ensure the clones were advancing safely.

The battle was quick but brutal. The Separatist droids, clearly not expecting such a coordinated assault, began to retreat deeper into the caves. Rex signaled for the squad to pursue.

“That way,” you called, gesturing toward the droids’ path. Your voice was clear, calm amidst the chaos, “They’re falling back into the caverns. We need to cut them off before they regroup.”

Kix hesitated for only a moment, then fell in step behind you as the squad moved forward. The ledge narrowed further, forcing them into single file, the cavern mouth looming ahead like the throat of some vast beast.

The ground beneath them trembled. At first, it was faint, barely more than a whisper of vibration beneath your feet. But then it deepened into a low, ominous rumble. Small stones began to clatter down the walls, bouncing and skittering across the ledge.

“Look out!” you shouted, turning sharply, your eyes wide with alarm.

A deafening crack split the air as the wall above them gave way. A cascade of rock and debris came crashing down, a landslide triggered by blaster fire or the unstable terrain. Dust billowed upward, blinding and choking.

“Take cover!” Rex’s voice rang out, but it was too late.

Kix’s instincts took over. He lunged toward you, grabbing your arm and pulling you toward a narrow fissure at the cave’s entrance. Together, you stumbled inside just as the landslide surged past, a wall of dust and debris sealing the entrance behind you.

The world narrowed to the space of the cave, the sudden silence broken only by the sound of falling dust and your ragged breaths. Kix coughed, waving a hand to clear the air, though the fine grit coated your armor, skin, hair, everything.

You were on your knees beside him, lightsaber extinguished but still in hand, your shoulders rising and falling as you caught your breath.

“Kix are you alright?” you asked, your voice rough from the dust.

He nodded, though his chest felt tight, “I’m fine. You?”

You gave a faint, breathless laugh, “I’ve been better. But I’m alright.”

Together, you turned to face the collapsed entrance. The pile of rock and debris was massive, a tangle of jagged stone and packed earth. Even a lightsaber would struggle to carve through it without risking further collapse.

You pressed a hand against the rubble, closing your eyes briefly. Kix watched as you reached out with the Force, trying to sense the stability of the remaining structure. The effort made your brow furrow, sweat beading along your temple.

“It’s too unstable,” you said softly, “If I try to clear it, it could bring the whole cavern down.”

Kix’s jaw tightened, “Then we’ll find another way out.”

You glanced at him, a flicker of gratitude in your gaze, “I'm pretty sure that's our only option.”

He nodded, his voice firm despite the tightness in his throat, "We'll figure this out, General."

You offered him a faint smile, playing with the use of titles, "We always do, Medic.”

As you rose to your feet, brushing dust from your robes, Kix felt the knot of tension in his chest ease slightly. Even trapped in a collapsing cave, with danger pressing in from all sides, your presence steadied him.

He swallowed hard, turning his gaze deeper into the cavern’s shadowed depths. The light from the entrance was faint now, a soft glow filtering through cracks in the rubble. Ahead, the tunnel sloped upward, the walls narrowing and twisting out of sight.

Kix adjusted his medpack, his hand brushing against the worn strap. The weight of it was a familiar comfort, but it also served as a grim reminder of the situation. They were cut off from the rest of the squad.

The thought made his gut twist. He’d faced danger before, through ambushes, explosions, blaster fire, but the idea of you, alone and vulnerable, struck a chord of fear he couldn’t shake.

“Let’s move,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the weight of the situation.

Kix nodded, falling into step beside you as you began to navigate the winding tunnel. The air grew cooler, the walls damp with condensation. Each footstep echoed softly, a reminder of the vast emptiness around them.

As they pressed deeper into the shadows, Kix felt a gnawing worry settle beneath his ribs. He wasn’t just concerned for your safety, though that alone was enough to make his hands tremble. It was more than that. It was the growing realization that he couldn’t imagine leaving this cave without you.

And in that moment, amidst the dust and silence and shifting shadows, Kix understood the depth of his feelings.

He was in love with you.

Kix’s steps echoed softly on the uneven floor as he followed you deeper into the darkness. Behind him, the sealed entrance was a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional hiss of shifting debris settling into place.

The only light came from the faint glow of your lightsaber as you ignited it, casting a gentle blue hue along the cave walls. It illuminated streaks of crystalline minerals and the occasional trickle of water seeping from cracks in the rock.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The narrow tunnel twisted and turned, descending deeper beneath the surface. Kix focused on each careful step, noting the way your shoulders were set with determined tension. You were trying to stay calm, to assess the situation, but he could see the fine tremor in your hand as it gripped the hilt of your saber.

He cleared his throat quietly, breaking the heavy silence, “You’re holding up better than most would,” he muttered, his voice low but warm, "you seem exhausted."

You glanced back at him, the blue light glinting in your eyes, "So are you, Kix. For both."

He gave a soft snort, more out of habit than humor, “I’m used to patching people up, not getting trapped in caves. But I guess it’s good to keep me on my toes.”

A flicker of a smile touched your lips, a small but genuine response to his attempt at levity. The sight made his pulse quicken, a tight ache settling in his chest.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you for months now. Ever since that mission on Christophsis when you’d saved his life with a sudden, precise strike of your saber, cutting down a droid that had nearly shot him point-blank. He’d been shaken, grateful, but it was the calm, focused, protective look in your eyes that had stayed with him. After that, it was as if every moment spent with you was magnified. The way you tilted your head when you listened. The quiet, steady authority you carried in briefings. The rare moments when your smile broke through the mask of command and revealed something softer, something just for them.

But he wasn’t oblivious. A Jedi and a clone weren’t supposed to have that connection. Yet here in the shadows of a collapsing cave, the rules felt very far away.

As the tunnel widened slightly, you paused to scan the area. Kix watched the way your shoulders rose and fell with each breath, the soft sound of the lightsaber humming at your side. His heart ached with something sharp and unwelcome as he knowledge that if this cave became your tomb, he’d never get the chance to tell you how he fells.

“How deep do you think we are?” he asked, his voice soft but edged with a tremor he couldn’t quite suppress.

You turned, considering, “Hard to say. Utapau’s sinkholes run deep, and these caves are likely natural extensions. We’re probably under several hundred meters of rock by now.”

“Lovely,” he muttered.

You gave a small, tired laugh, “We’ll find a way out, Kix.”

“I know,” he said, though a shiver crept up his spine. His body was already aching from the weight of his armor, the strain of the mission, and now the added tension of uncertainty. But he pushed it aside. You were here and alive. That was what mattered to him.

A faint rumble echoed through the rock, and both of you instinctively crouched, scanning for signs of another collapse. But the tremor passed, leaving only silence.

You straightened, exhaling slowly, “Let’s keep moving. We need to find a passage that leads upward.”

Kix nodded, though his legs were beginning to protest. They continued forward, the tunnel sloping downward before finally leveling out into a wider chamber. The ceiling arched above them, glittering with mineral deposits that caught your lightsaber’s light like scattered stars. For a brief moment, it was almost beautiful.

Kix found himself staring at the light on the stone, the soft reflection in your eyes as you turned to scan the chamber. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words tangled in his throat. Instead, he stepped forward, his foot brushing against a loose rock.

The sudden shift sent a sharp pain lancing up his leg. He gasped, stumbling as his knee buckled beneath him.

“Kix!” you turned sharply, the saber flickering dangerously as you caught him before he could fall completely.

“I’m fine—” he started, but the pain worsened, a sharp, twisting agony that made his vision blur. He sank to his knees, clutching at his side where the armor plates had shifted.

You crouched beside him, urgency in your voice, "Where does it hurt?”

“Left side and lower back. Feels like something’s torn,” he ground out, his breathing shallow.

Your hands moved quickly, fingers tracing along the edges of his armor with practiced ease, “You might have a fracture or internal bleeding,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him, “I need to check.”

Kix gritted his teeth, “Don’t overextend yourself. You’ve already used Force to keep the landslide out of the cave. I don't want to drain you too much.”

Your hand stilled briefly on his arm, “Kix,” you said softly, and he heard the unspoken plea in your voice.

He forced a strained smile, “I’ll be fine. Just a little banged up. Not the first time.”

You gave him a look that silenced his protests. Slowly, carefully, you began to remove the plates of his armor, your fingers deftly releasing the catches. When you peeled up the lower hem of his upper blacks both of you winced. The skin beneath was bruised, swelling rapidly with discoloration spreading across toward his hip.

“Looks like a deep muscle tear or a bleed," you said quietly. “And I’m guessing you hit your back pretty hard, too.”

Kix felt lightheaded, his breathing shallow. The pain was intensifying, a deep, pulsing ache that made it hard to focus, “I’ll manage."

But you were already preparing yourself. He saw the way you closed your eyes, steadying your breath, gathering the Force around you. The faint glow of your saber dimmed as you focused, the air around you charged with energy.

Kix’s eyes widened, “No. You’re exhausted already. If you—”

“I’m not letting you die here, Kix,” you cut him off firmly, your voice a low whisper that sent a shiver through him.

The words struck him harder than any injury. He opened his mouth to protest and argue, but the glow of your hands as you pressed them gently to his side silenced him. The warmth of the Force flowed into him, a gentle, golden pulse of energy that soothed the tearing agony and slowed the bleeding.

His vision blurred, not from pain this time, but from a wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. You were risking yourself for him, pouring every ounce of strength you had left into holding him together.

The pain dulled, and he felt his breathing steady, but as the glow around your hands faded, your shoulders slumped, and you sagged against him.

“No, no, General,” Kix’s voice broke as he caught you, his hands cradling your head as you slipped into unconsciousness, “oh come on. Stay awake, please."

The cave around them was silent except for his ragged breaths and the soft echo of his whispered pleas. Its walls loomed close like silent witnesses. The air was heavy with the faint tang of minerals and dust, broken only by the shallow echo of Kix’s ragged breathing and the soft rustle of your robes against the stone floor.

Your head lolled against his shoulder, your skin cool beneath his gloved hand. Kix's pulse hammered in his throat as he cradled you, his hands trembling slightly not from the terror of seeing you collapse like that.

"Please, General," he whispered, his voice frayed and raw, "Don’t leave me here. Please."

His fingers brushed your temple, tracing the curve of your cheek as if by sheer will he could anchor you to him, keep you tethered to this fragile moment. Your eyelids fluttered, lashes casting faint shadows, and his heart caught painfully.

Then, you let in a soft inhale, shallow but steady. Relief flooded him, so sharp it made his vision blur.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice cracking on the word. "You’re okay. You’re still here."

You stirred faintly, your weight shifting against him. Your voice was barely a whisper, "Kix?"

"Right here," he said, tightening his hold as if he could shield you from the cold, the fear, the crushing weight of rock above them, "You’re good. I’ve got you."

Your brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing your face as you tried to sit up. But he was already guiding you back down, his hands steady but gentle.

"Don’t move too fast," he said softly, "You passed out after healing me."

Realization dawned in your eyes, along with a flicker of guilt, "Oh, Kix. I'm so sorry. I-"

"I know," he interrupted, his voice rough with emotion, "But you scared me half to death."

Your lips quirked faintly, the shadow of a smile ghosting across them, "That’s not an easy thing to do."

Kix let out a shaky breath, a sound that was almost a laugh but caught somewhere between relief and exhaustion. He brushed a thumb lightly along your cheek, the touch intimate in a way neither of you had dared before. "You didn't have to do that," he whispered. "You gave everything you had left."

"But for you though," you murmured, the words so soft they might have been a thought.

He closed his eyes briefly, the weight of those words settling deep in his chest. When he opened them, he saw you watching him, your gaze tired but steady.

"How’s your side?" you asked, your voice still faint.

"Never better," he replied, though the truth was more complicated. The pain was a dull throb now, numbed by your Force healing, but he could faintly feel lingering pinches. Still, he wasn’t about to tell you that.

"Good. Then let's get out of here."

Kix hesitated, then gently shifted you into a more comfortable position, resting your head on his lap. He leaned back against the cave wall, careful of the instability of the soil, and cradled you close.

"We will," he agreed quietly, though in truth, he wasn’t sure how. The cave was vast and treacherous, but in that moment, with your heartbeat steady against his, the crushing weight of fear eased. "Eventually," he continued, "let's just take a minute."

You hummed in agreement and let your eyelids close. There was something too comfortable about resting your head on Kix's lap that you couldn't resist his offer to relax for a moment.

Time passed in silence, broken only by the faint dripping of water and the soft rhythm of your breathing. Kix listened to it like a lifeline, grounding himself in the simple reality of your presence.

After a while, you stirred again, sensing his gaze was locked onto you. "You’re hovering, Kix," your voice was soft but tinged with a hint of humor.

His lips twitched, "I can’t help it. Occupational hazard."

You cracked one eye open, meeting his before you lifted your head up, resting your hand on the cave walls to help you stand up, "More like boyfriend hazard." The words slipped from your lips in a murmur, half-drowsy and teasing, but they hit him like a blaster bolt.

His breath caught, his pulse stumbling as he stared down at you, stunned into stillness.

Boyfriend hazard.

You said it like a joke, your voice light, your lips curving faintly in a tired smile. But Kix’s mind reeled, the weight of that single word sinking in. It wasn’t the playful tone you’d used, or even the way your smile softened the edges of the moment. It was the truth beneath the jest. The quiet acknowledgment of something fragile and unspoken blooming between you. Before you could get on your feet, he grabbed your wrist and tugged slightly. Acknowledging his silent wishes, you sat down next to him, legs crossed.

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening painfully. Slowly, his hand brushed your hair back from your face, his fingertips tracing the line of your jaw, down to your neck where your pulse fluttered faintly beneath his touch.

"Is that what I am to you?" he asked, his voice low and almost trembling, not from fear but from the overwhelming tenderness blooming inside him.

You blinked up at him, the teasing glint in your eyes fading into something softer, more open, "Well that would surely complicate things." You watched his smile fall before you continued, "but I'm not necessarily one to take the easy path."

The corner of his mouth curved, not quite a smile, more a raw, vulnerable thing. He leaned down slightly, his forehead brushing yours as he exhaled a shuddering breath.

"You’ve been in my head since Kamino," he whispered, his voice a confession, "I thought it was just a silly crush. But then you kept showing up. In the medbay, in the field, everywhere. And I realized I was looking for you. Every damn day."

Your breath caught, your lips parting as though to respond, but he pressed a gentle finger to them.

"And I’m not saying this because we’re trapped in here," he said quietly, his voice firm despite the tenderness, "I’m saying it because it’s been building for a long time. And I can’t pretend its not there anymore."

You shifted slightly, wincing as you moved to sit up, your forehead still close to his, "I don't like pretending either," you whispered.

His lips twitched faintly, his other hand coming up to cradle your cheek, "Then I'm an idiot for waiting this long."

You let out a soft laugh, the sound mingling with his. The weight of exhaustion and fear lingered at the edges of the moment, but here, in this quiet, hidden place beneath the surface of a war-torn world, it was just you and Kix. No ranks, no orders, no looming battles. Just a man and a woman, leaning into each other because it was all they had.

Kix’s thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, tracing the curve of your smile. His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a heartbeat that stretched between you. But instead of closing the distance, he simply rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the hush of the cavern.

"We’re getting out of here," he said softly. "Not because we have to, but because we want to. But because there’s more than just survival waiting for us outside."

You nodded faintly, your eyes fluttering closed, your breath hitching slightly as you leaned into him.

For a while, neither of you spoke. His arms remained around you, steady and warm, his pulse a reassuring thrum against yours. You drifted, not quite asleep, but caught in that quiet space between wakefulness and dreams, wrapped in the safety of his embrace.

Kix’s fingers traced idle patterns along your back, his mind quiet for the first time in what felt like days. And though the cave around you was dark and still, in that small bubble of warmth and whispered promises, it felt almost like home.

For a long while, neither of you moved. Kix’s arms felt like a shelter while his breath pushed softly against your hair. The moment of confessions and half-spoken truths, lingered like a quiet echo in the stillness of the cave.

But eventually, the reality of your situation pressed in. The faint tremor of cold in your limbs was begging for you to move. You stirred first, a reluctant shift that made Kix’s arm tighten briefly around you before he reluctantly let you go.

“We should keep moving,” you suggested, forcing back a yawn.

Kix nodded, though he didn’t seem particularly eager to let you go. He pressed a gentle, soft, almost absent-minded kiss to the top of your head before drawing back and groaning as he got up.

“Yeah,” he agreed, "We should.”

You rose, stiff and aching, but determined. Kix retrieved his scattered armor and, with your help, strapped it back on as best as you could.

Once ready, the two of you began moving again, deeper into the labyrinth of rock and shadow. The air was cool and damp, heavy with the faint scent of moss and mineral-rich water. You used your lightsaber again to light the path ahead, a faint blue glow casting long shadows against the walls. For a while, the silence was companionable, the rhythm of your footsteps echoing softly off the walls.

But then Kix’s voice broke the quiet, tentative but steady, “When did you know?” he asked, glancing sideways at you.

You slowed slightly, startled by the question, "Know what?”

“You know,” he rolled out the syllables, dancing around what he asked, “I guess to put it simple, about the feeling being mutual.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. The cave narrowed, forcing you both to walk closer, your shoulders almost brushing. “I’m not sure,” you admitted after a breath, “I'm not sure if it was sudden. I can see little moments. Like the way you always look out for the others. How you never hesitate to help, no matter how bad things get. The way you laugh, even when you’re exhausted. How you always make me feel like I’m not just another Jedi. I feel like I'm just me.”

Kix rubbed the back of his neck, a faint flush coloring his cheeks, “I guess I didn’t make it easy to ignore, huh?” he winced wryly.

You smiled, the curve of your lips gentle in the dim light, “No. You didn’t.” The silence stretched again, but it was warmer now, filled with a quiet understanding. The sound of your footsteps echoed softly as you continued deeper into the cave.

Kix glanced at you again, his brow furrowed slightly, “I always wondered how the Jedi managed it,” he shrugged, “The whole no attachments thing. Doesn’t it get lonely?”

You stopped in your tracks, the question cutting deeper than you expected. “It does,” you admitted, "But we’re taught to suppress those feelings. To let them go, like we let go of everything else.” You waved your hand, the bitterness in your voice sharper than you intended, “But that’s- I don't know. I don’t think that's me."

Kix slowed, watching you with quiet intensity, “What do you mean?”

You sighed, your voice growing more determined, “The Jedi Code was written millenia ago, by people who couldn’t have imagined a galaxy at war like this. We’re supposed to be selfless, to put the needs of the galaxy before our own. But at what cost? Our happiness and humanity?”

Kix’s steps faltered, and he reached out, his gloved hand brushing your arm lightly, "So, you don’t agree with the Code?”

You met his gaze, allowing your hand to grab his, intertwining your fingers around his as you continued to walk. Kix couldn't help but look down at your hand in his and smile. It felt natural.

“Not entirely. I think it’s too conservative and rigid. We’re not droids, Kix. We’re people. We love, we grieve, we feel. Denying that it doesn’t make us stronger. It just makes us hollow.”

Kix’s grasp on your hand tightened, “Have you always felt that way?”

You hesitated, then nodded, “Honesty, for a long time. If it weren’t for the war, I probably would’ve left the Order already.”

Kix’s brow furrowed, “Left? You’d give up being a Jedi?”

You gave a small, wistful smile, "Oh I enjoyed my time at the Temple, mastering the force, being knighted. I love what it’s taught me. But I also want more. I want a life and home and people to come back to and to laugh with them without guilt. But to love without rules, that would be nice for once.”

Kix’s voice was rough, almost disbelieving, “That sounds like something us clones can only dream of.”

You shrugged lightly, a trace of sadness in your smile, “Maybe one day, when this war is over I’ll find that. Somewhere quiet and peaceful. Perhaps you can too."

Kix’s lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, he reached up, his hand brushing your cheek, his thumb tracing a soft line along your jaw. His touch was light, almost reverent, as though he were memorizing the feel of you beneath his hand, “I’d like that,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, "To find something like that." He hesitated briefly, "but something about the idea of doing it all with you makes it somehow seem even dreamier."

Your heart stumbled, the quiet confession sinking into you like a warm tide. For a moment, the war, the cave and the danger lurking outside all faded, leaving only the fragile thread of possibility stretching between you.

You leaned into his touch, your breath catching as his fingers tangled gently in your hair, "You mean that?”

His smile was faint, but it reached his eyes, crinkling the corners with quiet sincerity, “I wouldn't lie to you. I’ve been so focused on patching up the others and keeping everyone else going that I never thought I could want something for myself. But after Saleucami and meeting Cut and his family, knew I wanted more than just surviving day to day. I want to live.”

A shiver ran down your spine, not from cold but from the weight of his words. You leaned forward, your forehead brushing his as you whispered, “I get that." For a long moment, you stood there, your bodies close, the warmth of him steady against your cheek.

Eventually, Kix drew back slightly, his expression soft but determined, “As you said before, we should keep moving,” he teased, though his voice was tinged with reluctance.

You nodded, your fingers still grasping onto his. As you walked side by side, your shoulders occasionally brushing, the air between you felt lighter.

The air felt a little less heavy now, though the shadows still pressed close as you and Kix moved deeper into the cave system.

There was a shift between you, something that hadn’t been there before. Some sort of openness perhaps. The fragile confessions, the quiet touches, the slow realization that whatever had bloomed between you in these dark tunnels wasn’t going to be left behind.

You glanced sideways at him, taking in the faint smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth despite the exhaustion in his eyes. His gaze met yours briefly, and something unspoken passed between you.

After a while, the tunnel narrowed again, forcing you both to slow. Ahead, there was a faint draft of cool air, and you realized with a start that this might actually be an exit. Not a clear, wide path back into daylight, but a crack in the rock wide enough to let air flow through.

You paused, hand braced against the wall, and looked back at Kix. He was breathing hard, but determination was written in every line of his face.

“We’re almost there,” you nodded into the breeze.

His smile was soft but wry, “I think you've  been saying that for the last hour.”

You gave a quiet laugh, shaking your head, “This time I mean it. Feel that breeze?”

Kix nodded, his expression clearing just a little, “Yep. It smells like fresh air.”

You both stood there for a moment, shoulders brushing, letting the cool air wash over you. Then Kix took a shaky breath and pushed off the wall, “Well,” he said, his voice low and rough, “guess it’s time to stop being the medic and start being something else.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Something else?”

He gave you a playful smile, "I mean we came into this mess as a Jedi and a clone medic, right? I think we’re leaving as something more.” The words were light, almost teasing, but you heard the truth in them, and it sent a quiet warmth spreading through your chest.

You stepped closer, brushing your knuckles lightly against his, “Together,” you winked.

Kix smiled, and for a moment, you both just stood there, the air from the crack in the wall stirring faintly around you. The cave was still a cage, but it no longer felt like a prison. It felt like a threshold. “I was worried,” Kix said after a moment, his voice quieter now, “That when we got out of here, you’d just go back to being a Jedi and I'd just go back to being the battalion medic and we would just pretend this never happened.”

You shook your head, firm, “This isn’t something I can pretend didn’t happen. It’s not just some," you paused before giving a half laugh, "I don't know, cave moment.”

Kix’s lips twitched, “Cave moment?”

You sharply exhaled from your nose, “You know what I mean.”

His smile grew, a soft warmth in his eyes, “Over analyzing everything you say is one of my new duties now, is it not?"

You let out sigh of content, your fingers brushing his cheek, tracing the faint stubble there, “I won't leave us behind down here."

He leaned into your touch, his breath warm against your palm, “Good,” he retorted, “because the guys are going to give me hell when we get back.”

You snorted softly, "Oh?”

Kix’s grin turned playful, though there was a faint flush at his ears, “Oh, yeah. They’ll say something like, 'You finally did it!’”

You laughed, the sound echoing softly against the cave walls, “They’ve been waiting for this?”

He shrugged, his expression mock-innocent, “Maybe. I might’ve let a few things slip. It's hard not to when you’re stuck in a ship with the same squad."

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade, “Great. So, we’re the gossip of the 501st.”

Kix’s arm tightened around your shoulders, “Well, if we’re going to be the gossip, we might as well make it worth their while.

You laughed again, the sound lighter than it had been in hours. Then, more softly, you continued, “We need to get out of here.”

Kix raised an eyebrow, “I thought you said we were almost there.”

You gave him a crooked smile, “We are. But I mean we need to get out of here. Out of the cave and whatever bubble we had up around each other. We’ve got lost time to make up for.”

His expression softened, and he leaned in, his forehead pressing lightly against yours. His voice was low, steady, "We will. One step at a time. But let’s start with getting out of this cave, yeah?”

You nodded, your breath catching slightly at the quiet promise in his voice. Together, you turned toward the narrow opening, your hands brushing as you prepared to squeeze through.

The light beyond wasn’t full daylight, instead just a faint shimmer of something brighter than the dark. But it was enough to tell you that there was a way forward.

As you and Kix moved toward it, shoulder to shoulder, you realized something.

You weren’t just walking out of a cave, you were stepping into something new together.

tags:

@trixie2023 @clon3wh0r3 @melonmochiii @alice-in-wonderland111 @marvel-starwars-nerd @simping-for-fives @horsegirl4561 @koskareevesismyqueen @katelynnwrites @pinkiemme @youmaynowdothething @808tsuika @dangerdumpling @ahsoka-padme @persaloodles @soclonely @coffeeandtodd @gryffindorqueensworld @obiorbenkenobi @jedi-dreea @lightning-wolffe

[marvel-starwars-nerd]

Hold Me Until the Morning ~ Rex x F!Civilian Reader

Summary: As a bartender at 79's, your nights are full of routine and chaos. An introduction to the Captain of the 501st makes your shifts more entertaining. Word Count: 9.1k Warnings: Alcohol consumption (that should be it, it's mostly fluff) A/N: My take on Rex x Civilian as per my polls that are up right now! I had this and a clone x Medic queued up so, thanks for helping me choose! Requests are open in my bio! join my taglist / masterlist

The glow of Coruscant’s neon skyline filtered weakly through the grimy blinds of your tiny apartment, painting pale streaks of pink and blue across the walls. You sat at the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the carpet beneath your bare feet. The city outside hummed with air traffic soaring overhead, repulsorlifts vibrating, voices rising and fading with the pulse of a world that never slept. But all you could feel was the heavy pull of exhaustion clinging to your limbs.

You’d woken late. Again.

Your shift at 79’s started soon, and you needed to get ready. But the weight of another night serving drinks and navigating the rowdy, unpredictable mix of clone troopers and off-duty patrons felt heavier than usual tonight. Still, the thought of the bar’s familiar noise, the clatter of glasses, the hum of conversation, and the occasional burst of raucous laughter was almost comforting. It was predictable, in its way.

With a tired groan, you rose from the bed and stretched, rolling your shoulders to loosen the knots from the night before. The mirror across the room caught your reflection of tousled hair, dark circles under your eyes, and the faint imprint of pillow lines on your cheek. You ran a hand through your hair, pushing it back from your face. The mirror didn’t lie. You were exhaused, but you were determined to shake it off.

Your bathroom was small, barely enough room to turn around, but it served its purpose. You turned on the faucet and splashed your face with cool water, the shock of it jolting you awake a little. Grabbing a towel, you patted your skin dry and stared at your reflection again. There were days when you wished you could just leave the makeup behind, pull your hair into a knot, and call it good. But tonight, like most nights, you wanted to try to look a little more put together. Not for anyone else, really. Just for yourself.

You opened the small drawer beside the sink and pulled out a well-worn makeup bag. Inside were the essentials: a dewy foundation that helped cover the dark circles, a subtle highlighter to give you a bit of glow beneath the harsh lights of the bar, mascara, and a dark eyeliner pencil. You traced the pencil carefully along your upper lash line, steadying your hand despite the lingering sleepiness. It wasn’t anything dramatic, but just enough to make your tired eyes look more awake.

A soft rose lipstick followed, dabbed on with practiced precision. It was a shade that wasn’t too bold, but it gave your face some life. You blended it with your fingertip, tilting your head slightly as you examined the effect. Your cheeks needed a touch of color, so you brushed on a hint of blush, blending it into your skin until it looked natural. The bar’s lighting was dim anyway, but you liked the ritual of getting ready. It felt like your version of armor.

Your hair was next. You debated leaving it down since it had a natural wave to it tonight, falling over your shoulders in soft curls, but decided against it. It would be too easy for it to get in your way, catch on a patron’s hand, or worse, dip into a spilled drink. You gathered it into a loose ponytail, pulling out a few strands to frame your face softly. A quick spritz of setting spray, and you were done.

Turning back to your bedroom, you rummaged through the dresser for your work clothes. You pulled out your standard black fitted shirt that skimmed your frame without being too clingy. It was practical and flattering, cut to show just enough at the collar to catch the eye without inviting trouble. Over that, you layered a charcoal gray vest with deep pockets that were essential for tucking away bottle openers, and whatever else you would accumulate through the night.

Your jeans were dark, fitted, and tucked neatly into your favorite pair of worn leather boots. The soles were scuffed from countless shifts, but they were comfortable and sturdy, the kind that could handle spilled drinks, slippery floors, and the occasional hurried sidestep when a fight threatened to break out. You tugged the hem of your jeans up and flexed your toes inside the boots, grounding yourself.

You gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror. The makeup was subtle but effective. Your hair was controlled but still soft around your face. You straightened your posture, rolled your shoulders back, and let out a long, slow breath. The exhaustion was still there, coiled tight beneath your skin, but you could already feel the anticipation building. The bar’s energy always found a way to wake you up, to fill the space inside you that the quiet of your apartment couldn’t.

You crossed the room to your small desk, where a thin credstick sat beside your personal comm. You pocketed the credstick, along with a small fold of flimsiplast notes, which consisted mostly of a few hastily scribbled reminders about deliveries and inventory orders you needed to place for the bar. You slipped a utility knife into the side pocket of your vest, just in case, and grabbed your jacket from the back of the chair.

As you locked the door behind you, the distant murmur of the city reached you more clearly. Coruscant’s night air was cool, tinged with the metallic scent of fuel and the distant hint of fried street food. You pulled your jacket tighter around you and set off down the narrow corridor.

The walk to 79’s wasn’t long; just a few blocks down the busy street, weaving through the crowds of pedestrians, vendors, and late-night travelers. Neon signs flashed overhead, advertising everything from steaming bowls of noodle soup to sleek speeder repairs. You caught a glimpse of your reflection in a shop window as you passed. The tiredness was still there, but you were pushing through it, drawn forward by the familiar pull of the night ahead.

As you approached the entrance to 79’s, the buzz of conversation grew louder. You could already hear the faint strains of music spilling through the walls, the clink of glasses, and the deep, resonant laughter of clone troopers blowing off steam.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Whatever exhaustion you felt, whatever worries you carried from the day, they would soon be drowned out by the bar’s familiar rhythm. You’d step behind the counter, slip into the role you knew so well, and let the pulse of the room carry you through the night.

You took a deep breath, smoothed your vest, and stepped inside.

The heavy durasteel doors of 79's slid open with a familiar hiss, revealing the dimly lit interior of the clone trooper bar nestled deep within Coruscant's underbelly. The air was thick with the mingling scents of spiced liquor, engine oil, and the ever-present hum of conversation. Holographic displays flickered above the bar, broadcasting the latest podracing highlights, while the rhythmic thump of bass-heavy music pulsed through the floor.

You stepped inside, the ambient noise washing over you like a wave. The bar was already bustling, filled with off-duty clone troopers clad in varying states of undress. Some were still in partial armor, and others opted for casual fatigues. Laughter and animated discussions echoed off the walls, creating a cacophony that was both overwhelming and oddly comforting.

Making your way behind the bar, you greeted your fellow staff with nods and brief smiles. The countertop was already lined with empty glasses and half-finished drinks, evidence of the night's early momentum. You took off your jacket and began the familiar routine of restocking bottles, wiping down surfaces, and checking the inventory of mixers and garnishes.

As you settled into your rhythm, the doors opened once more, and a noticeable shift rippled through the crowd. The 501st Legion had arrived. Their presence was unmistakable with their confident strides, boisterous laughter, and an air of camaraderie that set them apart. Leading the group were Fives and Kix, their animated banter drawing attention as they approached the bar.

"Evening, gorgeous," Fives greeted with a wink, leaning casually on the counter, "Miss us?"

You smirked, pouring their usual drinks without missing a beat, "Like a blaster misses its target," you replied, sliding the glasses toward them.

Kix chuckled, raising his glass in a mock toast, "Always a pleasure to be served by the best bartender on Coruscant."

You smirked, sliding their drinks over, "Flattery gets you your usual. Keep it up, and I might even throw in a smile."

Their flirtatious remarks were a familiar part of your nightly routine, and you played along with practiced ease. The banter was lighthearted, a welcome distraction from the chaos of the war-torn galaxy outside.

As the conversation flowed, your eyes drifted past the lively duo to a figure standing slightly apart from the group. Captain Rex. His presence was commanding, even in the relaxed setting of the bar. Clad in his distinctive blue-accented armor, he exuded a quiet confidence, observing the room with a watchful gaze.

The banter continued, light and playful, as more members of the 501st settled in. Amidst the laughter and camaraderie, your eyes were drawn to a figure who hadn't approached the bar yet.

Captain Rex stood slightly apart from the group, his demeanor calm and observant. Unlike his comrades, he wasn't vying for attention or engaging in the playful antics. Instead, he watched the room with a quiet intensity.

Curiosity piqued, you leaned over the bar, catching his gaze, "You planning to stand there all night, or are you going to come over and introduce yourself?"

Rex approached, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "Captain Rex," he said, extending a hand.

You took it, noting the firmness of his grip, while tapping your other hand along the name tag pinned onto your vest, "Nice to meet you, Captain."

He nodded, his gaze steady, "Pleasure's mine."

The moment lingered, a subtle tension hanging in the air. Around you, the bar buzzed with activity, but in that instant, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

Breaking the silence, you gestured to the array of bottles behind you, "Can I get you something? First drink's on the house for newcomers."

Rex considered for a moment before replying, "I'll take whatever you recommend."

You smiled, reaching for a bottle, "You got it, Captain."

As you prepared his drink, the conversation continued, weaving between lighthearted banter and deeper topics. Rex's demeanor was composed, yet there was an underlying warmth that surfaced as the evening progressed. The initial formality gave way to genuine connection, the shared laughter and exchanged glances hinting at a budding rapport.

"Thank you for the drink," he said, his voice sincere.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips, "Anytime, Captain."

With a final nod, he turned and exited the bar top, leaving you with the lingering warmth of the evening's connection. The hum of the bar resumed its usual cadence, but the memory of your exchange with Rex remained, a spark amidst the routine of nightly service.

You moved with practiced ease behind the bar, mixing drinks, exchanging pleasantries, and keeping a watchful eye on the patrons. The rhythm of the night was familiar, almost comforting.

Amidst the crowd, Captain Rex stood out. Not just because of his distinctive armor but because of the quiet intensity he exuded. He approached the bar, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of curiosity.

"Another round, Captain?" you inquired, reaching for a clean glass.

He nodded, offering a slight smile.,"Please."

As you prepared his drink, he leaned slightly closer, his voice low to be heard over the music, "Busy night?"

You chuckled, sliding the drink toward him, "Always is when the 501st is in town."

He took a sip, his eyes never leaving yours, "Do you enjoy it? The energy, the chaos?"

You considered the question, glancing around the bustling bar, "It's invigorating. Keeps me on my toes."

He nodded thoughtfully, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass, "I can see that."

The conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on simple topics and deeper musings. Rex's demeanor was calm, yet there was an underlying warmth that surfaced as the evening progressed. As you became more engrossed in the exchange, the world around you seemed to fade. The clamor of the bar, and the demands of the other soldiers all receded into the background.

A sudden shout from a nearby table jolted you back to reality. A group of troopers waved empty glasses, signaling for refills. You blinked, realizing you'd been standing idle, captivated by the conversation.

"Duty calls," you said with a sheepish smile, moving to attend to the waiting patrons.

Rex watched you go, a thoughtful expression on his face. As you bustled about, fulfilling drink orders and exchanging banter, you felt his gaze follow you, a steady presence amidst the chaos.

Later, as the crowd began to thin and the night's energy mellowed, Rex returned to the bar. "Back for another?" you asked, already reaching for a glass.

He shook his head, "Just wanted to talk, if you have a moment."

You leaned on the counter, intrigued, setting a bottle of liquor into the well, "I'm all ears."

The conversation resumed, deeper this time. Rex spoke of his experiences, the weight of command, the bonds formed in battle. You listened, offering insights and sharing your own stories. Time slipped away unnoticed, the connection between you growing stronger with each exchanged word.

As the first hints of dawn approached, Rex stood, preparing to leave. "Thank you," he smiled, his voice sincere, For the conversation."

You smiled, a warmth blooming in your chest, "Anytime, Captain."

He nodded, turning to go, but paused, "Perhaps we could continue this another time?"

You met his gaze, the promise of future conversations shimmering between you, "I'd like that."

With a final smile, Rex departed, leaving you amidst the quieting bar, your thoughts lingering on the unexpected connection forged amidst the clamor of 79's.

You’d never been one to look forward to the start of your shift. Or, at least, not before the last few months. But now, as you stand in front of the slightly tarnished mirror behind the back office of 79’s, adjusting your makeup, smoothing down your dark top, and re-braiding your hair for a fourth time. You catch yourself with a smile that lingers a moment longer than it should.

It’s not just the routine of prepping the bar, of slicing citrus and aligning glassware. It’s the thought of Rex, who on the rare leaves granted to the 501st on Coruscant, inevitably finds his way back to this noisy, windowless corner of the city’s underbelly. Back to this bar and back to his favorite bartender.

The mirror reflects the subtle sweep of shimmer on your eyelids, the deliberate flick of eyeliner meant to be both polished and inviting. You check your hair once more, ensuring a few strands are tucked just right, and take a deep breath. He might not be here tonight, there were always rumors swirling about new campaigns, new deployments, but hope, fragile and persistent, stays with you.

79’s pulse hits you like a wave when you step through the staff door. The chatter, the scrape of chairs, the low thrum of music vibrating through the floor. It’s all so familiar now, like the beat of a living heart. You weave through the early crowd, greeting a few regulars, laughing politely at an overly bold compliment, and finally take your place behind the bar.

Your hands move instinctively as you set up for the night by checking the lines to the taps, pulling fresh bottles, and arranging the rows of glasses so they catch the glinting lights above. But as you work, you can’t help but glance at the stool. The one at the far end of the bar that you always leave empty.

Sometimes it’s the only empty seat in the place, and you catch the occasional patron eyeing it before they’re waved off by one of the bartenders or by your own gentle nudge: “Sorry, that one’s taken.”

Of course, it isn’t taken. Not technically, but you keep it open for Rex, just in case tonight’s the night the 501st is back on leave.

It had started as a small gesture, something you’d done without even thinking about it after that first night when he’d lingered at the bar, quiet and steady, watching you navigate the chaos with practiced grace. He hadn’t tried to impress you, hadn’t joined in the playful banter of his brothers. He’d simply been there, his presence a grounding force amidst the swirling noise of 79’s.

And now, months later, you found yourself anticipating that he would return, that he would settle onto that stool with the faintest smile and a quiet, “Good evening.”

The first rush of the night hits, and you throw yourself into the work. Orders fly in rapid-fire succession: a round of Corellian ales for a boisterous group at the center table, a couple of Rylothian sunbursts for a pair of off-duty pilots, shots of Tihaar for some of the more experienced clones sharing stories near the door. Your hands move with practiced efficiency, pouring, shaking, sliding glasses across the polished bar top with the same easy rhythm that’s kept you going shift after shift.

But even as you lose yourself in the momentum, a part of your mind keeps drifting back to that stool. You glance toward the entrance every time the heavy doors hiss open, scanning each newcomer for a flash of familiar blue-accented armor, for the broad-shouldered silhouette that has, against all odds, come to mean something to you.

The bar grows louder as the hours pass, the energy rising as more men filter in. The air is warm with the scent of spice and sweat and the faint ozone tang of recent rain outside. You manage a smile, a laugh, even a teasing remark or two, but your heart isn’t entirely in it. Not until the doors hiss open again.

A hush ripples through the crowd, subtle but noticeable, as a group of clones steps inside. Your heart kicks up a beat, and your eyes immediately search the group, spotting the familiar forms of Fives and Kix first, their easy swagger unmistakable. But then you see him.

There.

Rex.

His presence is like a quiet chord of music threading through the noise. He’s in partial armor tonight, upper armor and helmet left behind at the barracks, his expression composed but softened at the edges by the familiar surroundings. His eyes catch yours across the room, and the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until he starts making his way toward the bar, weaving through the crowd with the same purposeful stride you remember. And despite the bustle around you, despite the drinks waiting to be poured and the orders shouted from the other end of the bar, you find yourself rooted in place, heart hammering in your chest.

He reaches the stool, the one you always leave open, and sets his palm down on the counter.

“Good evening,” he rasps, his voice low and warm, just for you.

You exhale, a slow smile spreading across your face, “Hey, Captain. Thought you might be back in town.”

His gaze flickers briefly to the bustling room before returning to yours, "Got a few days’ leave,” he murmurs. “Figured I’d stop by.”

You nod, already reaching for the bottle you know he likes, pouring his drink with the same care you always do, “I was hoping you would.”

His lips quirk at that, and for a moment, the weight of the galaxy outside this bar seems to ease.

As the night unfolds, Rex stays at the stool, and you find yourself gravitating toward him more and more, drawn by the quiet steadiness of his presence. You balance your duties of pouring drinks, wiping down the counter, exchanging brief words with other patrons, but every time you glance his way, he’s still there, his gaze meeting yours with that quiet, grounding calm.

At some point, you lose track of time. You’re laughing softly at something he’s just said. It was a rare story from the front lines, shared in his low, even voice, and it strikes you how natural this feels. How, amidst the clamor of the bar, the two of you have carved out a space that feels just a little apart from the rest of the world.

“I don’t want to keep you from your work,” Rex says after a while, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass.

You shake your head, stepping a little closer so your words don’t have to rise over the music, “You’re not. Talking to bar guests is apart of the job. And besides, I like having you here.”

His smile is subtle, but it warms you all the way through, “I like being here.”

And just like that, the world outside, the war, the orders, the waiting, fades into the background, leaving only the quiet intimacy of shared conversation, the familiar hum of the bar, and the unspoken promise that whatever this is between you two might just be the beginning of something neither of you expected.

The warmth of his smile lingers as you lean against the bar, fingers lightly tracing the rim of an empty glass you haven’t had time to clear away. Around you, 79’s thrums with life. Laughter bubbling up from tables, the clatter of glasses stacking, the faint, bass-heavy pulse of the music vibrating against the floor. But here, at this narrow stretch of bar where Rex has anchored himself, it feels as though the volume has dimmed just enough to make the space between the two of you feel almost private.

Your voice, soft but teasing, slips through the hum, “You’re not much of a fan of places like this, are you?”

Rex lifts his head slightly, his expression thoughtful but honest, “Not really,” he admits, his tone low and even. “Too loud. Too many distractions. It’s not easy to think.”

You smile, warmth curling through you. It’s no surprise, really. Even when he’d first walked into 79’s those months ago, he hadn’t seemed to share the same easy comfort his brothers displayed here. Fives and Kix had been quick with jokes and playful taunts, but Rex had always maintained a subtle distance, as though the noise and the flashing lights didn’t quite fit with who he was beneath the armor.

“Can’t say I blame you,” you reply, your voice pitched just enough to be heard over the music but still private, “Most nights, it’s a little much, even for me.” You tilt your head toward the nearest table, where a group of troopers are engaged in a loud, animated debate over sabacc hands, “Don’t get me wrong, the energy’s good for business. But it can wear you down.”

Rex leans a little closer, resting his forearms lightly against the polished wood of the bar. His presence draws you in, and you find yourself matching his posture without thinking, mirroring his subtle movements, “Why do you do it then?” he asks, genuinely curious.

You pause, your eyes flicking to the shelves of bottles behind you, their contents glowing softly under the ambient lights, “Because I like people,” you say after a moment, giving him a quick wink, “And I like feeling like I’m part this messy, noisy, chaotic thing that brings people together, even if it’s just for a drink or a laugh. There’s something comforting about it. Like no matter how bad the galaxy gets, there’s always a place where people can come and feel a little less alone.”

Rex’s eyes soften, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I think I can understand that.”

Your pulse stutters in a way that has nothing to do with the lingering caffeine in your system. For a moment, you consider leaving it at a quiet acknowledgment. But the weight of his gaze, steady and warm, emboldens you.

“My shift’s over at the top of the hour,” you say, your voice light but deliberate, “If you want to wait it out I know a quiet place we can go.”

For a heartbeat, Rex says nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nods, “I’d like that.”

The admission settles between you like a shared secret, delicate but certain. Your lips curve into a soft smile, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the noisy clamor of 79’s seems bearable again.

The rest of your shift passes in a blur of half-heard orders, automatic movements, and the occasional, surreptitious glance toward Rex, who was sipping his drink slowly at the end of the bar. You catch him nursing the drink, exchanging occasional words with passing brothers, but always his eyes return to you, steady as a promise.

As the clock above the bar edges closer to the top of the hour, you catch yourself glancing toward it more often, heart quickening. The last orders are taken, the final rounds poured. The crowd begins to thin, some patrons already making their way out into the Coruscant night, their laughter echoing down the darkened streets.

You catch Kix and Jesse on their way toward the door, their postures loose with drink and easy camaraderie.

“Heading out?” you call over, wiping down the bar as they pass.

Kix grins. “Yeah, figured we’d let the Captain have his peace. Not often he gets a night off, you know?”

Jesse gives a mock salute, adding with a wink, “Don’t keep him waiting too long, huh?”

You roll your eyes, warmth flooding your cheeks as they leave, the door hissing shut behind them. Rex remains, his drink cradled in his hands, his posture relaxed but attentive as he watches you. With a final flourish, you set down the last wiped glass and grab your jacket from beneath the bar.

You glance toward him, your voice low and almost shy, “Ready to go?”

He rises, the motion smooth and deliberate, “Lead the way.”

Together, you step out from behind the bar, weaving through the lingering patrons and into the cool air outside. The door of 79’s closes behind you with a soft hiss, muting the sounds of the bar.

The city beyond is alive with muted neon and the quiet hum of traffic high above. You lead him through the streets, your steps familiar and sure, taking winding paths through narrow alleys lit by scattered glimmers of light. He follows without question, his presence a steady shadow at your side.

After several blocks, you stop before a small, tucked-away courtyard shielded from the main street by high walls and thick foliage. It’s quiet here, the air scented faintly with flowering vines. A handful of benches line the perimeter, and a softly gurgling fountain occupies the center.

“This is the place,” you say softly, gesturing to the space around you, “Not many people know about it but it’s peaceful and quiet.”

Rex stands beside you, taking it all in. His gaze lingers on the fountain, then on you, “It’s perfect,” he murmurs.

You settle onto one of the benches, and after a moment, he joins you. For a time, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches comfortably, filled only by the distant sounds of the city and the soft whisper of the fountain. Finally, you turn toward him, your voice barely above a whisper. “You seem like more yourself each time you come to the bar.”

He meets your gaze, and for the first time, you see a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. “I don’t have to be Captain Rex there. I can just be me.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing lightly against his, “Well good, because I like you.”

He turns his hand beneath yours, fingers curling gently around yours in a quiet, unspoken agreement. And for that moments beneath the stars and the gentle drops of water, you’re no longer a bartender and a soldier. You’re just two people, drawn together by chance, finding solace in each other’s company amidst the vast, chaotic galaxy.

Rex’s hand closes gently around yours, his grip warm and steady. His calloused fingertips lightly brush the inside of your wrist, sending a subtle shiver through you. The weight of his hand, both firm and careful, seems to ground you amidst the quiet night and the faint, distant buzz of Coruscant’s endless pulse.

“You know,” he says, his voice lower now, more intimate in the hush of the courtyard, “I’ve only been going to 79’s because of you.”

The confession lands between you like a soft spark, your breath catching just slightly. You tilt your head, a smile playing at your lips. “Oh, is that so?” you murmur, teasing but touched.

Rex’s cheeks color faintly under the city glow, and he lets out a quiet laugh, his thumb grazing along the back of your hand, “Yeah. Not exactly subtle, is it?”

You give a small, delighted laugh, your own fingers tightening ever so slightly around his, “I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything, but-”

“But you noticed,” he finishes for you, his tone light, his eyes catching yours with an honesty that sends a warm flush through your chest.

“I noticed,” you admit softly.

For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you, his steady hand in yours, his quiet smile, the way the city’s neon lights cast shifting colors across the quiet courtyard. It’s as though you’ve both stepped outside of the endless war, outside of the demands of your separate lives, and into this small, suspended space where nothing matters except this connection slowly inserting itself between you.

Off in the distance, just beyond the high walls and through a narrow gap between buildings, you catch a glimpse of movement. Fives, unmistakable in his swagger, arm slung around a girl’s shoulders as they laugh and stumble their way into a side alley, likely searching for a little privacy of their own.

Rex follows your gaze, his lips twitching in amusement, “Looks like Fives is having a good night,” he says, a hint of fond exasperation in his voice.

You can’t help but laugh, the sound soft and breathy as it spills into the quiet, “You worried he’s getting himself into trouble?”

Rex’s grin widens, and he shakes his head, “If I were feeling more responsible, I might report it.” He pauses, glancing down at your joined hands, then back up at you with a rueful smile, “But then I’d be a bit of a hypocrite, wouldn’t I?”

You let out a delighted laugh, the sound ringing through the courtyard like a chime, and he joins in, his shoulders relaxing further as the humor bridges the gap between duty and desire.

“I guess you would,” you say, your voice light but threaded with something deeper. Like an acknowledgment of the quiet, mutual pull between you that’s been building with every shared glance, every exchanged word.

His fingers tighten around yours for a moment, as though he’s drawing courage from the connection, “It doesn’t feel like trouble, though,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

Your heart stutters at the quiet sincerity in his voice. “No,” you agree softly, “It doesn’t.”

For a moment, silence settles over you both. Not the awkward kind, but a comfortable, shared stillness that makes you feel more connected to him than you thought possible in such a short time.

“You know,” you say, your voice gentle as you lean just slightly closer, “if you’re only going to 79’s to see me, you don’t have to wait for a shift to end. You could stop by earlier. Before it gets busy.”

Rex’s eyes soften, his smile growing quieter but no less warm, “You’d be okay with that?”

Your thumb brushes lightly over the back of his hand, “I’d like that,” you admit, your pulse thrumming with quiet anticipation, “I mean, it might mean I get distracted and mess up a few orders, but-”

He laughs, a low, genuine sound that warms your skin like sunlight, “Somehow, I don’t think the guys would mind waiting a little longer for a drink if it meant seeing you smile.”

You feel your cheeks flush, but you don’t look away. Instead, you let the silence settle again, this time filled with a quiet, mutual understanding. You can see it in the way his shoulders relax, in the subtle easing of the lines around his mouth. Here, away from the battlefield and the burdens of leadership, Rex is just a man, and you’re just a woman who can’t seem to stop smiling when he’s near.

A soft breeze stirs the air, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming flowers from the edge of the courtyard. You lean back slightly against the bench, your hand still clasped in his, and tilt your head to the side. “What do you think Fives’ odds are tonight?” you ask playfully, nudging him gently with your shoulder.

Rex chuckles, a rich, warm sound that feels like it settles right beneath your ribs, “Oh, I’d say he’s got a pretty good chance, if the lady’s laughing at his jokes.”

You grin, your eyes sparkling with amusement, “Well, it’s hard to resist a charming clone trooper.”

His gaze meets yours again, something softer, something deeper stirring in his expression, “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice low and a little rough. “It is.”

The words hang between you. Your pulse quickens, but you don’t look away. Instead, you let your free hand lift, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, your movements slow and deliberate. Rex watches the motion, his breath hitching just slightly, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s going to lean in. The thought sends a warm thrill through you, but instead, he simply squeezes your hand a little tighter, grounding the moment with that simple, steady gesture.

“I don’t get a lot of nights like this,” he says quietly, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles, “Where I don’t have to think about orders or missions and I can just be me”

Your heart clenches at the quiet vulnerability in his voice, “You deserve more nights like this,” you say softly, “Nights where you can just be yourself.”

He looks at you then, really looks, his gaze steady and warm, “Maybe I’ll start making time for them,” he says, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Your own smile widens, and you squeeze his hand gently in return, “I’d like that for you.”

The city hums around you, but here, in this quiet courtyard with your hands joined and your hearts speaking in unspoken words, it feels like the world has stilled just for the two of you. And for the first time in a long while, you both feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Rex's fingers tighten ever so slightly around yours, and he looks at you with a flicker of realization dawning in his eyes. “Kriff,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with quiet concern, “You must be exhausted. I’ve been keeping you up, haven’t I?”

The apology is genuine, edged with the steady sense of responsibility that seems to radiate from him, the same kind of quiet duty you’d noticed even when he wasn’t in his armor. His brows draw together, a subtle furrow forming above his nose as though the weight of your weariness is suddenly his to bear.

But you smile softly, the corners of your lips curling upward with a mixture of affection and amusement., “I’m the one who offered to take you here after my shift, remember?” you remind him gently, your voice laced with a teasing warmth.

He lets out a breath of quiet laughter, his gaze dropping briefly to where your hands are still joined, your fingers interlaced as though neither of you is quite ready to let go, “Yeah,” he says quietly, “I guess you did.”

Still, the exhaustion creeps up on you like a slow tide, the weight of the long shift settling across your shoulders and down your spine. Your eyelids feel heavier now, the adrenaline of bartending and the giddy rush of seeing Rex giving way to something softer, something bone-deep and inevitable.

You shift slightly, your hand brushing his knee as you lean back a bit against the bench, “I’m a little tired, though,” you admit, your voice quieter now, edged with honesty.

Rex’s gaze sharpens, the concern flickering stronger in his expression. His lips part slightly as if to speak, but you beat him to it with a small, rueful smile, “But I don’t regret it,” you say, your thumb tracing a slow, lazy arc over the back of his hand, “It’s worth it for this.”

His breath catches, his shoulders relaxing again as though those simple words eased something tight in his chest. “Still,” you add softly, your curiosity surfacing beneath the warmth of your voice, “what time do you have to report back in the morning?”

Your question is simple enough on the surface, almost casual, but there’s an undercurrent to it, a subtle edge of something more intimate. Something you’re not entirely sure you’re ready to voice outright. It’s not just idle curiosity about his schedule, but it’s the quiet, tentative wondering of someone who’s beginning to care a little too much, someone who’s realizing just how fleeting these moments might be.

Rex’s brow furrows slightly, his head tilting as though the question puzzles him. His lips part, and then he hesitates, his gaze locking with yours, “Why do you ask?” he says, his voice low, laced with quiet curiosity.

You draw in a breath, feeling the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his hand still cradling yours, “I don’t know,” you admit softly, your voice nearly lost in the quiet hum of the courtyard. “Maybe I just want to know how long we have before you have to go back. ”

There that flicker of something deeper and fragile threading through your words comes out. You feel it settle between you like a shared secret, delicate and unsure, but undeniable.

Rex’s lips part slightly, his breath catching in his throat. He doesn’t speak for a moment, as though he’s turning the question over in his mind, weighing it not just for its surface meaning but for everything you aren’t quite saying out loud.

“I’m not sure,” he says finally, his voice quiet, almost hesitant, “They don’t usually give us much notice. Sometimes it’s a few hours. Sometimes less,” He hesitates, his gaze softening, “But I’ll stay as long as I can. If you want me to.”

Your breath catches, your pulse quickening at the quiet sincerity in his voice, “I do,” you say softly, almost without thinking. The admission slips from your lips, unguarded and true, “I'd like for you to stay.”

His hand tightens around yours, his thumb brushing a slow, comforting arc over your knuckles, “Then I’ll stay,” he says quietly, the words a simple promise.

For a moment, the world feels as though it’s stilled around you. You’re both caught in this fragile, suspended moment where nothing exists but the warmth of his hand, the steady beat of your pulse, and the quiet understanding that has begun to weave itself between you.

“You’re full of surprises, Captain,” you say softly, your voice tinged with amusement and something deeper.

Rex chuckles quietly, the sound low and intimate in the stillness, “So are you,” he murmurs.

You lean just a little closer, your free hand brushing lightly against his knee, your movements slow and unhurried. The exhaustion presses against you, but the warmth of his presence, the steady reassurance of his hand in yours, keeps you anchored.

“I don’t get a lot of nights like this either,” you admit quietly, your voice almost a whisper, “Where I get to just be.”

His gaze meets yours, something unspoken passing between you like a silent promise, “Then let’s make the most of it,” he says softly.

And for a little while longer, you do.

You sit there in the quiet, your hands still joined, your shoulders brushing lightly with every subtle shift. Rex doesn’t rush to fill the silence with words, and you don’t feel the need to either. It’s enough to just be there, to feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the quiet weight of his presence grounding you amidst the endless hum of the city.

Eventually, though, the pull of exhaustion becomes too much to ignore. Your eyelids droop, your head tilting ever so slightly toward his shoulder. Rex’s arm shifts, his hand rising to brush a few stray strands of hair away from your face, his touch feather-light and careful.

“You’re falling asleep,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble near your ear.

“Mmm,” you hum in quiet agreement, your lips curving into a faint, sleepy smile, “Maybe a little.”

“Come on,” he says softly, his hand guiding yours as he stands, "You live far from here?"

You shake your head, "Just a short walk away."

You let him pull you to your feet, his arm steady around your shoulders as you lean into his side, your exhaustion pressing against you in a wave now that you’ve let yourself relax. As you walk back toward the busier streets, toward whatever comes next, you feel his hand warm and steady at your back, his presence a quiet promise of something you’re only just beginning to understand.

Coruscant’s neon lights filtered through the haze as Rex followed you to your apartment door. He paused, the weight of the night settling on his shoulders, exhaustion evident but mingled with the calm contentment that came from being with you.

“I’ll see you next time,” Rex said quietly, his hand lingering just a moment longer on the doorframe before he started to turn away.

You let out a tired yawn, your body heavy with the fatigue of the long shift, but your eyes sparkled with playful warmth, “Would’ve been rude to let you walk me home, then not to invite you inside,” you teased, voice low and soft.

Rex’s lips twitched into a grin, the familiar warmth returning to his gaze. Without hesitation, he stepped inside, the door closing quietly behind him.

“Make yourself at home,” you said, already moving toward the small hallway leading to your bathroom, “I’m going to shower the bar off. I'm covered in dried liquor and all that lovely bar filth.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and steady, “I couldn't tell.”

You could hear his footsteps trailing behind you as you peeled off your worn shirt and tossed it aside, the cool air of your apartment wrapping around you. Rex settled onto a stool in the kitchen, his gaze quietly taking in the modest space, noting the details of the well-worn countertops, the small potted plants by the windowsill, the cluttered stack of holobooks on the coffee table. He seemed at ease here, like he belonged, even in this little civilian world so far removed from the battlefield.

After a few moments, he rose quietly and made his way toward the balcony, the sliding door already unlocked to the cool night air. The city’s distant hum wrapped around him like a soft blanket as he leaned against the railing, eyes scanning the neon-lit skyline but clearly lost in thought.

You finished your shower quickly, the warm water washing away the fatigue and the faint smell of spilled drinks and sweat. After drying off and throwing on an oversized sweatshirt, you stepped quietly through the apartment, drawn toward the balcony by the faint glow of the city and the quiet presence waiting there.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping out beside him.

Rex turned, a slow smile spreading across his face as he looked at the damp hair clinging to your skin, eyes bright despite the exhaustion.

“You’re still here,” you murmured, stepping closer.

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he replied, his voice low and sure.

The night stretched out before you, quiet and still except for the soft hum of the city below and the steady beat of your own heart, echoing in the space between you.

You lean over the balcony railing beside Rex, taking a slow, deep breath of the warm night air. The city lights twinkle far below like scattered stars, and a faint breeze carries the scent of ozone and distant blossoms.

“It’s a lovely night,” you say softly, your voice almost lost in Coruscant’s nighttime pulse.

Rex glances over at you, his eyes flicking to the damp strands of hair clinging to your neck and shoulders. His brow furrows, concern sharpening his features.

“You’re going to catch a cold with your hair still wet,” he warns, voice low and steady, the care in his tone unmistakable.

You laugh lightly, shaking your head with a gentle smile, “That’s actually a myth, Captain,” you say, turning to face him with a teasing glint in your eye, “Colds don’t come from wet hair. They come from viruses.”

He smirks, the corner of his mouth lifting in quiet amusement, “Good to know.”

You step a little closer, the warmth of your body just brushing against his as you cross your arms, “But if you wanted to come inside with me,” you smile, voice dropping to a softer, almost teasing whisper, “you could have just asked.”

Rex’s eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world narrows down to the space between you, “I might have,” he admits with a small, genuine smile, “if I wasn’t afraid you’d say no.”

Your smile widens, touched with warmth and something quietly tender, “I’d never say no.”

He steps a fraction closer, the night wrapping around you like a secret, “Good,” he murmurs.

You close the balcony door behind you, the sudden hush of the apartment folding around you like a soft embrace. The cool night air stays trapped momentarily by the glass before you reach over to click the small control panel beside the door, letting the warmth of the heater hum back to life.

You drop down onto the couch with a long sigh, the cushions soft and familiar beneath you. Your tired body sinks into the embrace of the couch, the weight of the day finally pressing down in a way that almost demands rest.

Rex lingers near the balcony doorway, his arms crossed, watching you settle with an expression that’s difficult to read. The faint smile still lingers at the corner of his mouth, but he hasn’t moved to join you yet.

You glance up at him, arching an eyebrow, “Hey,” you say softly, “come on, sit down.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, but he doesn’t move immediately.

“You don’t have to stand there like some kind of statue,” you tease lightly, voice gentle but insistent, “I promise I don’t bite.”

Rex’s smirk deepens just a little, but he steps forward slowly, the silent weight of years of discipline making his movements purposeful but still a little cautious.

Finally, he lowers himself beside you, the couch creaking faintly under his weight. The space between you shrinks, the warmth from his body a quiet comfort against your side.

You reach behind you and grab a thick blanket draped over the back of the couch, pulling it forward and spreading it over both your laps. The fabric is soft, a little worn from years of use, but still comforting.

“There,” you say with a small smile, “now you can’t escape.”

Rex chuckles softly, the sound low and genuine, “I wasn’t planning to.”

You reach for the holoprojector remote resting on the low table in front of you and flick it on, a pale blue light flickering to life as the interface hums softly. You scroll through a small library of holofilms you keep saved. Mostly just old favorites or unheard of flicks. The kind of stories that help unwind after a long day.

“Ever seen this one?” you ask, holding up the holo-display with a playful glint in your eye.

Rex shakes his head, curiosity piqued, “No, can’t say that I have.”

“Good,” you say, voice soft but firm, “You’re staying for it.”

He raises an eyebrow but says nothing, his gaze flicking back to the flickering holo-image already projecting in front of you. The apartment dims slightly as the film begins to fill the room with light.

You lean back into the couch, letting the warmth of the blanket and Rex’s steady presence settle around you. The glow of the holofilm flickers softly, casting shifting light across his features.

Your eyelids grow heavier with every scene, the long day pressing down like a gentle weight. Rex’s shoulder is solid beside you, grounding you in a way that feels safe and steady. You inch closer, your head resting lightly against his arm.

He doesn’t move away, but instead, his arm shifts just enough to curl around your shoulders, a quiet, protective gesture. The film’s story continues around you, but your focus blurs as warmth and exhaustion mingle.

Subconsciously, you lean against Rex's chest and shut your eyes. His faint heartbeat against your temple relaxes your body fully, sinking into the comfort of the moment. Your thoughts grow soft and hazy, slipping away as sleep gently pulls you under.

Rex glances down at you, a soft smile curving his lips. His fingers brush a stray strand of damp hair from your face, his touch careful and tender. He leans his head slightly toward yours, sharing the quiet stillness.

For the first time in a long while, surrounded by the softness of the night and the gentle presence of someone who cares, you let yourself rest completely.

The soft light of Coruscant’s early morning filtered through the curtains, casting a pale glow over the room.

Rex stirred first, the weight of your head still resting against his chest grounding him even before he fully woke.

His arm was curled gently around you, fingers resting lightly on your shoulder like a quiet promise. For a moment, he simply lay there, breathing in the steady rhythm of your breathing, the rise and fall that told him you were safe and at peace.

The distant hum of the city felt far away, and the usual rush of his soldier’s mind was replaced by a calm he rarely allowed himself.

Slowly, he shifted, careful not to disturb you, his gaze soft as he looked down at your peaceful face.

“You’re still here,” he whispered, almost to himself, a small, tender smile brushing his lips.

Rex lay there beside you, still holding you close, his arm a solid presence around your shoulders. His gaze was fixed on you. He adored the way your lips curved slightly even in sleep and the softness in your features that only appeared in moments like these.

He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to break the spell of this morning, this rare sliver of peace in a world filled with noise and war. But eventually, the stirrings of dawn and duty whispered insistently at the edges of the moment.

Your eyelids fluttered open, revealing those eyes he’d come to know so well, bringing him warm, bright, and quiet happiness that sent a rare, genuine smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“Good morning,” you whispered, voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” he replied softly, voice low, almost reluctant.

You shifted just enough to meet his gaze fully, searching his face. There was something unspoken there, something held back with deliberate care. His usual guarded calm, but underneath it, there was an undeniable pull, a desire to stay, to linger in the warmth of your closeness.

“I have to get back to the barracks soon,” he said, the words falling heavy between you. There was no rush in his tone, only the quiet acceptance of the path he must take.

Your heart dipped slightly. You’d hoped for a little longer, but you’d known this was the reality from the moment he stepped inside. You propped yourself up on one elbow, reaching out instinctively to rest your hand over his as you intertwined your fingers with his.

“I get it,” you said, voice soft but steady, “but I wish you didn't have to.”

Rex’s gaze dropped to your hand, the interlaced fingers grounding him as much as it did you, “I wish I could stay,” he admitted quietly, “but the men need me. I need to be there.”

You nodded, blinking away the sudden sting behind your eyes. It wasn’t just the physical parting, but also it was the reminder of the world outside this small apartment. The war, the duty, the relentless demands. You squeezed his hand gently.

“I’ll be here,” you said, your voice a tender promise, “waiting.”

Rex’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, one filled with gratitude and a hint of longing. He shifted slightly, carefully disentangling your fingers but keeping your hand in his own for just a moment longer.

“I’ll be back,” he said, his voice low and steady, “I promise.”

You smiled, leaning forward to brush a soft kiss against his temple.

“Don’t be a stranger,” you whispered.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and familiar, “I won’t,” he promised, then paused as he stood, adjusting the straps of his lower armor slung beside the door.

You stood too, the sudden emptiness of the space between you a sharp contrast to the closeness moments before. Rex headed toward the door, but before he stepped through the threshold, he turned back.

His eyes caught yours, the unspoken weight of everything they’d shared glowing in their depths. With a mischievous wink, he said, “See you at 79’s tonight?”

You laughed softly, the sound light but filled with hope, “You better be there.”

He nodded, the smile lingering as he finally crossed the threshold and the door slid closed behind him. You stood there for a long moment, your hand resting lightly where his had just been, the quiet apartment suddenly feeling too big, too still. But beneath the loneliness was a spark of hope, warmth, and the promise of something more.

You exhaled slowly, your gaze drifting to the door as you whispered, “See you tonight, Captain.”

tags:

@trixie2023 @shuckfaced-fangirl @blondelevy @clon3wh0r3

@melonmochiii @alice-in-wonderland111 @starrdvstkenobi @marvel-starwars-nerd @Simping-for-fives @horsegirl4561 @dominhoe-squad @Koskareevesismyqueen @thegirlwhosesilencespeakestloudest @katelynnwrites @pinkiemme @Youmaynowdothething @808tsuika @Dangerdumpling @ahsoka-padme @Stucky2k3 @Sarel-Lavellan @weragarisa @persaloodles @peacelandbread @raf-loves-everything @socloney @coffeeandtodd @gryffindorqueensworld @obiorbenkenobi @hannahhessica113 @smells_sharpies @Jedi-dreea @lightning-wolffe @ganondorf_has_greasy_balls

[marvel-starwars-nerd]

[marvel-starwars-nerd]

Gar Cyare Chapter Twenty-Four

Alpha-17 x fem!reader fic

Word Count: 3,500

Warnings: Treasure-hunt style adventure, references to past threats, threats of danger

Previous | Next | Masterlist

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Oya'karir (Hunt)

It always seemed like big events should happen at specific and notable times. The beginning of a day, midnight on a Friday night, during a lunar eclipse… Those were times when one expected things to happen.

Real life was seldom so organized, so the text comm came through at mid-morning on a Tuesday. 

Translated message: Start beneath the beginning, at the level of experimentation. 

It had taken an embarrassingly long time for you to recognize the comm frequency. Ordo had sent you the message. That could only mean that they had managed to crack Ko Sai’s secret code. This must be the first clue. 

Adrenaline surged through your veins, making your fingers tremble as your legs ached to stand and rush off. Instead, you forced yourself to take a deep breath and think critically. You copied the decoded clue down onto a piece of flimsi in case something happened to the original version, then sent a message to Alpha. 

Comm from O. 

You hadn't discussed how to alert each other if and when you heard something. Honestly, Alpha had been convinced that it was only a matter of time before the Nulls managed to decode the message. You had been much more skeptical. 

Only minutes later, Alpha sent a written comm back: 

Lunch.

Alpha was waiting at your table in the mess hall, a group of ARCs-in-training nervously eyeing his back from several tables away. As soon as you got your food and joined him, Alpha leaned in close enough that no one could overhear your conversation. “Show me.” 

You silently passed him your comlink, watching as he read the message, then read it twice more with a frown furrowing his brows. When he eventually looked back up, it was with a scowl. “Karkin’ kaminii. Can’t make anything simple.”

You laughed, and Alpha frowned even harder. “Sorry, Alpha. I thought you might know what it meant. Let me just-” 

A single question mark was the only thing in your message back to Ordo. The minutes stretched long as you waited for an answer. In the meantime, you and Alpha ate your lunches. 

“I think we should get started tomorrow morning,” Alpha announced. “You have the day off and I can get Trem to cover for me.” 

“Probably a good idea,” you agreed. “If we both had to take a day off, we would be at risk of attracting attention.” 

“And if-” Alpha cut off as he glanced down at his comlink. Wordlessly, he tilted it in your direction. 

Laboratory level, below the sample.

You glanced back up at Alpha, excitement building in your chest. “Sounds like we have an answer.” 

His smile was sharp, glinting eagerly. “First thing tomorrow, then.” 

By ‘first thing’, Alpha truly did mean to get started early. He woke you up shortly before 5 in the morning, passing you a steaming cup of caf to stifle your complaints. He was disgustingly awake - fully dressed and armored, his helmet clipped neatly to his belt.

Once you were upright and dressed, he led you to the place Ordo had indicated in his message. You were on the lab levels, somewhere you rarely had cause to be. Not only were they among the lowest levels on any platform, but they were also some of the most well-guarded. 

Gathering information about the laboratories themselves had been your least-favorite part of compiling your report. The Kaminoans guarded their trade secrets as fiercely as any competitive industry would, so your time in the labs had been spend under such heavy scrutiny that you had jotted down the answers to your questions and little else before you had left. 

That was probably the cause of the tension singing through you as you followed Alpha down the hallways on the laboratory level. You weren’t really surprised that Alpha knew exactly where he was going. Spatial reasoning was emphasized during the clone troopers’ flash-training and Alpha had proven to be better at it than most. You had only the vaguest idea of where the Fett genetic sample was in relation to the labs, but Alpha seemed as though he could have confidently located the exact place beneath the sample with his eyes closed.

When you reached it, he came to an abrupt halt. “This is it.” 

You checked your chronometer. “We’re making good time. What now?” 

“How would I know that?” Alpha asked, absently looking around. “I saw the same translated clues that you did, little one.” 

“Fair enough.” You also looked around, searching for anything that might serve as a clue about what the next step would be. “I was just hoping you saw something that I’m missing. I don’t see anything that might be a sign of where else to go.” 

“I don’t either,” Alpha said eventually. “We knew it would be well-hidden, though.” 

“Yeah, but I was holding out hope that it might be sitting out in the open,” you admitted. “What if they translated the clue incorrectly? Or the Kaminoans have renovated and removed whatever was here in the first place? Can you imagine how the Nulls would react if we had to tell them we got stuck on the first clue? They might kill me for real that time.” 

Alpha shook his head at you. “We both know I wouldn’t let that happen. But I want you to keep looking. I think maybe you’re hoping we get stuck so you can go back to bed. I see you yawning when you think I’m not looking.” 

You took a swig of coffee at the sight of his pointedly raised eyebrows. “Excuse me if I thought ‘first thing tomorrow’ could mean at nine or something. This isn’t a normal hour to be awake, let alone working…”

Alpha sighed at your complaining while you dramatically leaned against the wall. You both froze at the metallic, nearly-imperceptible click!

For someone who had been longing to go back to bed just a moment before, you leapt away from the wall with alacrity. Alpha studied the door panel with one arm holding you behind him. The panel itself was the same flat white as the rest of Tipoca City’s architecture, and had been perfectly invisible until your leaning had jarred it open. 

After studying the hinges as closely as he could without opening the door any further, Alpha turned to face you, pushing you gently backward. 

“Alpha,” you protested. 

“No,” he shut down flatly. “Ko Sai could have build a dozen nasty surprises into her directions. What better way to make sure her research stay a secret than to kill the first people to decode her message and go looking for the backup notes? I need you to follow my directions, even if I tell you to walk away. Especially if I tell you to walk away.” 

“I don’t like you putting yourself in danger,” you answered, striving for honesty. 

“Then you understand how I feel.” Alpha’s knuckles rapped sharply against the heavy white plastoid protecting his chest. “But I’m better suited to handle anything this place throws our way. Stay back or this adventure ends now.” 

Unfortunately for your urge to keep arguing, that was a good point. Alpha took advantage of your momentary confusion to pick you up and set you further away while he opened the panel. 

Instead of it creaking, snapping, or otherwise seeming to be damaged, the entire panel swung smoothly forward, opening into the hallway where you and Alpha were standing. By the time you rounded the panel itself, Alpha had already stepped through the opening in the wall. 

He held up a hand in your direction, freezing you in place as he stared intently around the space, studying every facet of the area. He bounced up and down slightly on his toes as if he was testing the floor itself, then gave a satisfied nod. You joined him in the wall itself, but he shook his head. “Wait a minute, neverd-”

You lifted your chin at him. “Alpha, if you think I’m just going to stand here and let you figure out these clues alone, I have an unpleasant surprise for you.” 

Alpha chuckled, eyes warm, and you relaxed slightly. “Udesii, sweetheart. We can’t leave this panel open behind us and I want to make sure we can get out if this is the only way. I want you to stand out here while I try to open it from the inside. If I can’t figure out the mechanism, I’ll need you to open it like you did the first time.” 

You stared at him, eyes narrowed. Alpha laughed again, holding both hands up, palms out. “No tricks. I’m not trying to leave you behind. I just need to make sure we have a way out.” 

“Fine, but if you leave me…” 

“Why would I?” Alpha asked. “You’ve already found more of the clues than I have. Of everyone on this rock, you’ve got the best shot at finding those notes.”

You weren’t sure that was true - if anything, you knew it was false - but it was still enough to distract you until Alpha could usher you outside and close the panel behind himself. 

Even nervous that you were being left behind, you couldn’t help but marvel at the engineering of the wall panel. When it was closed, there was no visible seam between the hinged section and the wall around it. If you hadn’t happened to lean against that spot, you weren’t sure whether you would have ever found it. 

Just as you were starting to worry that the panel and wall were soundproofed and that Alpha had been asking you to reopen it, the panel pushed gently open once more. Alpha beckoned you inside, then latched it firmly behind you both. 

Kamino was never loud as a rule, but the interior of the panel felt even more quiet. Perhaps it was because it was a secret, or simply because the ever-present harsh lighting was dimmer here. Either way, you found yourself in another hallway. Other than the different lighting, it felt like an exact mirror of the hallway you had just left, stretching in either direction until it hit corners, following the parallel corners of the main hallway. 

Either way, Alpha clearly felt it, too. He leaned a little closer as he said, “I found it. There’s a latch, but it’s up higher on the panel than you would expect. Built for a kaminii, not a humanoid.”

“Since we have a way out, we can move on,” you pointed out, perhaps unnecessarily. “What’s the next step?” 

He shrugged. “We’d better comm the Nulls.” 

You sent a short, semi-coded explanation of your progress. Ordo sent a text comm in reply almost immediately: 

West. 18:00

The addition of a time didn’t make sense, but you assumed it had something to do with how far down you were meant to travel. And if you were correct… “West is this way.” 

Alpha stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “Wait, neverd’ika. That is west, but not Kaminoan west.” 

You squinted at him. “What is Kaminoan west?” 

“Kaminoans don’t measure directions like beings on most planets do,” Alpha explained, leading the way down the hallway. He was walking the opposite direction of where you had been going. “Since there is no naturally dry land on the planet, the ancient kaminii never developed a multi-directional system. Instead, there are only two directions for them: following the tide or leading away from it. In this spot, at this time of year, using the tide at eighteen-hundred hours as a basis, west is actually east.” 

“That seems incredibly imprecise,” you grumbled. 

Alpha snorted. “It is. Most Kaminoans use the cardinal directions now, but what better way to make sure that secrets directions are as coded as possible?”

You didn’t have an answer to that, so you turned your attention to the hallway. The ceilings were high and the walkway was wide enough for you to walk beside Alpha without your hands brushing. It was a space that was clearly built to be comfortable for a Kaminoan, though it wasn’t quite as generously proportioned as the spaces in the main Tipoca City labs. To a Kaminoan, it may have seemed like a slightly narrow and low-ceilinged tunnel. To a pair of humans - even with one of those humans being as large as Alpha - it was spacious.

Once more, your mind turned toward how you and Alpha would know when to stop. Unless the hallway simply ended, you would need something definite to signal that you had found your next step. 

Alpha must have been thinking along the same lines. He pressed a button on his comlink and lifted it to his mouth. 

“I hope your comlink is encrypted.” 

“By you, di’kut,” Alpha snapped back. “As long as you and Mereel know what you’re doing, it’ll be fine. What is the next clue?” 

“It says, ‘move the transport’,” Ordo reported. “Nothing else.” 

“The transport,” Alpha repeated, brow furrowing. “A ship couldn’t fit in here.” 

“Maybe there’s an entrance to one of the hangars,” you suggested. 

Alpha glanced down at you with a thoughtful look on his face. “Could be. We’re not close to any of them, though.” 

“Part of the idea behind this jare search was that you would update us on what you find,” Ordo complained. “Where are you?” 

Alpha scowled at the comlink like Ordo could see his displeasure through it. Without a further explanation, he jabbed at the button that would sever the connection. 

Roughly two seconds after the call dropped from Alpha’s comlink, yours began to ring. You tilted it in Alpha’s direction, but he shook his head. “I don’t recognize the frequency. Can’t be a coincidence, though. Go ahead and answer it.” 

“Yes?” you asked as you accepted the call. 

“I can’t blame you for wanting to avoid my brother,” a new voice said. 

Alpha growled. “Thought I told you never to talk to her again, Mereel.” 

Mereel’s voice sounded offended, even through the small speaker. “I happen to be her favorite, especially after I stopped trying to convince the others to get rid of her.” 

Alpha took your hand and severed the connection on your behalf. You grinned despite yourself at Alpha’s glare, especially when the silence - six seconds, that time - was broken by another call. 

When Alpha looked at the third incoming frequency, his expression cleared. “Go ahead and take this one, neverd’ika. Explain what’s going on so they’ll leave us alone.” 

“Hello?” 

“I should probably thank you,” Prudii said. “It’s been a while since both Ordo and Mereel were knocked down a peg. Too many successful missions in a row makes them cocky.” 

“Anytime,” Alpha growled, turning back toward the hallway. 

Prudii used your name, drawing your attention away from following Alpha. “Jaing sends his apologies. He’s on a mission right now, or he would have been the one to talk you through this. We all remember that you trusted him more than the rest of us.” 

“No offense,” you offered with a shrug. “Though if it helps, I trust you more than most of the others.” 

“Thanks,” Prudii accepted, an edge of laughter in his voice. “Can you tell me what you’ve found so far?” 

You agreed, and filled Prudii in on everything you had done so far. It wasn’t much, but the existence of secret tunnels inside the Kaminoan network of hallways was new information, even for the Nulls. 

“And here I believed we had found all of Kamino’s secrets,” Prudii marveled. “It sounds like you’re going in the right direction. But Ordo was right: the next clue just says to move the transport. From what you’ve told me, Alpha is right. You aren’t near any of the hangars, and I doubt Ko Sai could have fit a transport in there, or added a landing platform without someone noticing.” 

“Not helpful.” Alpha was still ahead of you, leaving you to scurry after his long strides. “All you’ve been able to tell us is that we’re right and you had nothing to add. We already knew that.”

“If I had some secret insight into Ko Sai’s mind, I would have found those notes while we were on-planet.” 

Alpha stopped and made a grab for your hand. You danced backward, talking quickly. “Okay, Prudii, thank you! I’ll let you know when we find anything that looks like it could match the next clue.” 

“Be caref-” 

“He was just telling us to be careful,” you informed Alpha reproachfully. 

Alpha released your wrist. “We wouldn’t need to be careful if he and his brothers hadn’t set you up to find their precious notes.” 

“I thought we agreed that it was a better choice than letting them keep trying to kill me,” you pointed out. “I remember asking you if you thought it was a good idea.” 

“I-” Alpha glanced down at you and heaved a sigh. “I did. At least, it was a better idea than having to watch your back around them. But I didn’t think there would be this much danger.” 

“What danger?” you asked. Alpha sent you a reproachful look and you doubled down. “I’m serious! What danger? I haven’t seen anything that seems overly dangerous yet. Are you seeing something that I’m not?” 

“No, just that Ko Sai went to a lot of trouble to keep this place a secret.” Alpha gestured around you both. “If she thought these notes were important enough to program an automatic self-destruct into it, the physical copy will only be better guarded. I don’t like the idea of going through all of this trouble just for the Nulls.” 

“Is it just for the Nulls?” you pressed. “I gathered that what they learn from the notes could be big enough to impact all of the clone troopers, not just those six.” 

“Maybe,” Alpha conceded. “But that’s the shadow of a chance. It’s much more likely than one or both of us will be injured or worse trying to find the notes. That’s what we deal with as ARCs - weighing the chances against each other. If there’s a five percent chance that the Nulls will get useful intel from the notes and an eighty percent chance that we’ll risk our lives getting it, the mission is more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Do you want to go back?” you asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway. You weren’t exactly in Alpha’s line of sight, but he halted immediately to look back at you. “I’ll tell them that we can’t help find the notes.” 

Alpha’s lips twisted in a smug sort of smirk. “They’d be thrilled.” 

“They don’t matter to me as much as you do.” You reached out to take Alpha’s hand. “If you’re really worried, we can stop right now.” 

Alpha paused for a long moment, fingers wrapping around yours. “Don’t suppose you’d let me continue the search without you.” 

It hadn’t been a question, but you still shook your head in answer.

He sighed. “Fine. Let’s keep going. But if we don’t find something in the next ten minutes, we’re going back.”

“Deal,” you agreed. Alpha set off down the hallway once more as you rushed behind him. 

Exactly seven minutes down the hallway, Alpha turned a corner and hesitated. You ducked out from behind him immediately, and found yourself looking at a small sitting area. Two Kaminoan-sized chairs were placed side by side, angled slightly toward each other as if to facilitate a conversation between theoretical occupants. Between the chairs was an ornate display table bearing a statue of an aiwha.

Alpha eased closer. “Ko Sai doesn’t seem like the type to invite guests so close to her secret research.” 

“No, she doesn’t,” you agreed. “Kaminoans in general don’t seem to like alcoves like this.” 

“No dust,” Alpha noted, studying the statue and both chairs. “I didn’t see or hear anything in the entrance that would indicate that this whole area is hermetically sealed. Maybe she had some kind of specialized air filtration system set up around this area.” 

“If so, we have to be close,” you summarized. 

Alpha motioned for you to stay there, then walked determinedly to the next corner in the hallway. He turned back almost immediately. “The hallway ends in another 20 meters. This has to be it.” 

While he walked back, you examined the seating area. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kaminoan chairs that don’t drop out of the ceiling.” You frowned at the statute. “Or decorations like this. I always thought they considered them frivolous-” 

You reached out for the statue, ignoring the warning Alpha growled as you did so. The instant your fingertips touched the smooth, cool surface of the carved aiwha, the floor opened under your feet and you dropped like a stone.

---

Author's Note - Uh, oh! A cliffhanger! Sorry about that.

Just to give you an idea how bad I am at estimating, I wrote this adventure to take place over one chapter. It ended up being almost 12k words, so it will be split over three different chapters.

Please note: this first chapter was pretty light-hearted, but mind the warnings on the other two. I had to write with my gut instead of my heart and things get a little... dark.

Thank you for reading!

[marvel-starwars-nerd]

Morning lovely! I was wondering if you would be able to write a drabble for Delta Squad and them celebrating Life Day for the first time with the reader. Maybe Scorch accidentally shoves Sev and reader underneath whatever SW equivalent of mistletoe is to get them to say something? 😂 Anyways, have an awesome week!

Hey, anon! Thanks for the ask and I'm sorry it took so long! I had to get a little more in the holiday spirit first. Quick disclaimer: I strongly based the Wookiee Life Day celebration on generic holiday parties just because that's what I'm most familiar with, though I did make a few changes to the basics. I also didn't invent a Star Wars version of mistletoe... I just called it mistletoe. I hope you enjoy!

Sev x gn!reader

Word Count: 3,400

Warnings: semi-entrapment, I guess?

---

Life Day with Sev

You stared around with the wonder-filled gaze of a small child, letting out a small sigh of satisfaction and warmth. This was your favorite time of year and you were with some of your favorite people.

"This is stupid," Sev grumbled.

"Stow it," Boss ordered. "We've got a civvie on the team, so we need to make some adjustments."

"Adjustments?" Fixer repeated, sounding disgruntled. “We’ve already adjusted enough. There’s food on the ship now.”

Even in your good mood, you couldn’t let that stand. “Food counts as an adjustment? Sorry you had to give up your tasteless calorie sticks, but come on. This is a Life Day party. Eat some tasty snacks, have a drink, and relax for a few hours.”

“Sign me up!” Scorch cut in. “You had me convinced at free food.”

“No drinks for me,” Boss announced. “We can’t drink on duty.”

“You’re on duty?” you asked, frowning at him.

Boss sighed. “I’m always on duty.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled at the same time. “Are you sure, Boss? This isn’t some battlefront camp where you might be called to combat. It’s just a party at my friend’s house.”

“Is your friend a Wookiee?” Fixer shoved his hands into his pockets and glared at the street ahead of him. “That’s the only way this farce would make sense.”

“Farce?” you repeated with a frown.

“Life Day is a Wookiee holiday,” Fixer emphasized. “So, again, is she a Wookiee?”

“Fixer, you know as well as I do that most Wookiees hate Coruscant,” you told him. As Sev and Scorch snickered, you added, “But it’s more than just its roots. Life Day is a period of celebration across the galaxy. Most space-faring civilizations have contributed their own traditions that get blended in. No two Life Day celebrations are the same, but I know my friend will do her best to make hers a good one."

“And I’ll do my best to make a good impression on her,” Scorch promised.

Something in the commando’s tone struck you as odd and you squinted suspiciously at him. “You do realize that she’s my friend, right? She invited us to come over and celebrate at her party - something we need to thank her for doing, by the way. I don’t want anyone being weird.”

“Well, Scorch, sounds like you’d better head back to the ship,” Sev said, clapping a faux-sympathetic hand on Scorch’s shoulder.

"Too late, we're here," Fixer told them, gesturing ahead of your group.

You glanced where he had indicated, fighting not to gape openly. The structure was huge, yet clearly built for a single family. Only the wealthiest people on Coruscant lived in places like this.

"Woah," Boss said simply, summarizing what everyone was thinking. "Your friend lives here?"

"I- I think so?" you guessed. "I've never visited her at her new place, but this seems a little… much."

"This is the right address," Fixer insisted.

"Why risk it?" Sev asked. "We should just go back to the ship."

"Sev." Boss was the reigning king of one-word reprimands, and this was one of his best. Boss's deep brown eyes flicked from you to the door and back. "Go to the door and see what's going on."

You hesitated, but nodded anyway. If Boss gave you an order, you followed it. That was how things worked.

In any case, you were worried for nothing. As soon as you stepped up on the duracrete step leading to the door, it slid open, revealing a bright-faced woman in an obnoxiously striped sweater.

"Good, you made it!" she cheered, waving you in.

Kai Makani was ridiculously pretty and carried herself like a high-end model. She knew how to dress to the best possible advantage for her frame, but she had chosen to wear a cozy-looking sweater in eye-piercing green and blue - the colors used most often to represent and celebrate Life Day.

"Hey, Kai!" you greeted, returning her hug with pleasure. "Are you still okay with me bringing my squad along?"

"Your squad," she repeated with relish. "You are adorable."

You shot Kai a warning look as you moved beside her to introduce your companions.

"Kai, this is Delta Squad. That's Sergeant Boss."

Boss, dressed in dark pants and an orange sweater that mimicked his orange-painted armor, gave his best version of a civilian-friendly smile. It didn't look great, but you gave him credit for trying.

"Ma'am," he greeted politely. Kai waved back at him and Boss’s smile melted into one that looked far more natural.

You cleared your throat, motioning to the next man. "Fixer."

Looking suddenly and distinctly nervous, Fixer gave a reflexive salute. He was wearing a dark blue shirt with a brown leather jacket and khaki pants. He had steadfastly refused to wear green because of its Life Day association.

"Scorch."

Scorch's sweater could rival Kai's for eye-catching awfulness. You had been dismayed to find that the store you had taken them to sold 'ugly' sweaters. Scorch had found one that appeared to be made of strands of tinsel, knit together in an itchy mass. He had declared it the best thing he'd ever seen and insisted on buying it. When you introduced him, Scorch also saluted, but his grin and the cocky flick of his wrist made the gesture more flirtatious than Fixer had managed.

"And Sev."

The commando should have looked ridiculous, dressed in a dark red shirt, a white leather jacket, and dark pants, but he didn't. In fact, you couldn't look at him too long or you would lose your train of thought. It had happened twice since you left the ship. Sev nodded silently at Kai.

"Please, come in," she invited. "It's so nice to meet you all! Let me talk you through the process."

The commandos stepped inside while you followed at the back of the group. This was their first Life Day party and you wanted them to have the best possible vantage point.

Besides, it gave you the chance to stare around at the inside of the house. Most of the space was taken up by one giant room, the second floor ringing it without impeding the view of the tastefully-painted ceilings. There were a few doors around the perimeter, but there was no way to know what they contained.

An elbow dug into your arm and you glanced over to find Sev frowning at you. "Pay attention, civvie. You got us into this mess; it's the least you can do."

You glared at him - why was he so intent on acting like this party was a punishment? - but didn't say anything. Instead, you focused on Kai.

Your friend was currently pointing at various stations around the expansive room. "We have sweets and desserts from eighteen different cultures, but if you need real food, there's stuff for pulled ronto sandwiches in the warmer. The bar is all along that wall, feel free to serve yourself. We'll have Life Day music playing for most of the night and we may play a holofilm later. There's a small theater built into the back of the house."

So that answered the question about one of the doors. A theater? This place was massive.

"Last but not least: beware," Kai warned, a mischievous grin playing along her face as she dropped her voice into a mysterious murmur. "There are sprigs of mistletoe hidden around the house."

Delta Squad stared at her blankly. Boss, as usual, took initiative to ask the first question: "Do you need me to knock them down for you?"

Kai looked just as lost as they were at the question. She glanced across their faces, ending with you. You shook your head and shrugged. You didn’t know what he was getting at, either.

"What?" she asked eventually.

"It sounds dangerous," Boss told her, warming to his subject. "I'll get the sprigs down if you need them out of your house."

Understanding and delight dawned on Kai's face. "Maker, you are so cute!" Before Boss could tell her exactly what he thought about that, Kai kissed him on the cheek.

He looked a little dazed as she kept talking. "No, mistletoe is a Life Day tradition! If you stand under it with another person, you have to kiss them."

"Is this normal mistletoe?" you asked suspiciously.

Kai laughed. "You mean, did we get the ray shield kind? Of course!"

You groaned as Fixer glanced back and forth between you and Kai, looking interested for the first time. "Ray shield?"

"Invented by people with too much time and money," you explained tersely. "And bought by people who also have too much money."

"They put an easily broken ray shield around the two who are supposed to kiss," Kai told him, sounding way too proud of herself.

"How easily broken?" Scorch asked, clearly intrigued.

"It's like… Oh! Just watch," she instructed.

She pointed subtly to two females who had unwittingly stepped under one of the semi-hidden mistletoe sprigs. The pale arms of a ray shield spiraled down from the green leaves, creating a noticeably weaker barrier than a typical ray shield offered. The women looked uncomfortable, but not upset or frightened.

"They're exes…" Kai explained in a whisper. "It was messy."

And they watched while one woman pushed out of the shield. The one left inside looked lost… until another stepped in. From the growing smiles on the women's faces, they were half in love already. The kiss they shared was short and chaste, but filled with passion.

"Okay, so the shields are escapable," you summarized, eager to change the subject before any of the Deltas went rogue and started shooting mistletoe down.

"I still don't know why you would want those in your house," Sev grumbled.

"Well, technically, it's not my house," Kai admitted. "One of my friends rented it for the party."

"Oh." Scorch looked confused. "Do we need to thank her for having the party?"

"You actually can't," Kai replied before you were forced to answer. "That was Ark's one stipulation for renting this place: she didn't have to be here."

"Clever," Fixer muttered.

"ARC?" Scorch asked. "Like the troopers?"

Kai frowned in delicate confusion. "Are there a lot of troopers named Ark?"

Scorch laughed aloud while Sev scoffed and Fixer rolled his eyes. Boss, looking like he wanted to return her sentiments about his mistletoe misunderstanding, shook his head kindly. “No, ARC troopers are troopers who went through special training that gives them special qualifications.”

“Oh…” she said slowly, glancing at you again. You shook your head, signaling that no, she didn’t want to ask for more clarification. “Well, you can all go do whatever you’re interested in. I just need to borrow your… civilian… for a minute.”

Boss nodded, wandering toward the bar. Fixer followed, but ended up moving to the kitchen, where people were decorating cookies shaped like the massive trees native to Kashyyyk. Scorch went in a direct line toward the small group of people dancing to the surprisingly beat-driven version of Life Day music that was playing.

Sev didn’t follow his brothers, lingering a moment until you looked directly at him. He quirked an eyebrow and frowned - a strange combination of facial expressions, but you understood him as clearly as if he had spoken out loud. He wanted to make sure you were okay being alone with Kai before he left. If you replied in the negative, he would find a way to get you out of there. You smiled and flicked your eyes toward the rest of the party. Sev nodded, jaw flexing, and turned to join the rest of the partygoers.

You valued that small moment of communication more than you could explain. You had felt like such an outsider when you were first put in with Delta Squad, but they had warmed up to you after some time.

When you tore your eyes from Sev’s retreating form, you found Kai grinning at you, eyes sparkling with good-humored teasing. “You always did know how to make the best of a bad situation.”

“What bad situation?”

She shrugged. “We were all worried when you joined the GAR, and when you were assigned to a commando unit? Yeah, I worry about you every single day.”

Your heart clenched at the way Kai’s joking tone evaporated entirely with her explanation. Deciding to join the military when there was such chaos in the galaxy hadn’t been a choice you made lightly, and the strain on your family and friends had been a major part of your deliberations.

“I’m sorry,” you told her, trusting that Kai would understand that you were talking about her distress, not your decision. That had been the one thing you had no regrets about. “But you don’t have to worry. I’m about as safe as I could possibly be with Delta Squad around.”

Kai’s teasing air came back. “Yeah, I bet you are! Mmm, talk about some good-looking men…”

“Kai!” you admonished.

“Oh, like you haven’t noticed?” she asked skeptically. “You’re telling me you aren’t impressed by the way Sev’s shoulders look in that white leather jacket?”

You sighed. “Well, I’m not blind.”

“Neither am I,” Kai said, glancing behind you. “Which is how I know that he’s just as crazy about you as you are about him.”

“Wait, what? Sev? No.” It was too many words spoken too quickly to come off as believably dismissive, but you meant every part. Sev was great, and you wouldn’t pretend that you hadn’t occasionally admired the way his faded scars highlighted his intense eyes and full lips. But he was serious and intimidating at the best of times. Not exactly someone you pictured having any kind of relationship with. "He's just my…"

Just what, though? Coworker didn't seem like the right word to use for someone who saved your life on a regular basis, but only clone troopers called each other ‘brother’.

Besides, despite your best efforts, your feelings toward Sev weren't familial in the slightest.

Kai quirked one eyebrow and you relented with a sigh. "My squad mate who I have a giant crush on."

"I knew it!" Kai cheered. "And I know he feels the same way."

"How do I tell for sure?" you asked, trying not to sound frustrated about it. "You know I hate making the first move."

"Okay, making the first move is amazing, but I understand that it can be tricky," Kai mused. "Let me think about it and I'll let you know. For now, go enjoy the party!"

You were skeptical about how well you would be able to do that, but you had to admit that Kai threw a great Life Day party. You decorated some cookies and ate even more. The temptation of the bar had been too strong and you had agreed to one drink. You even let yourself get talked into dancing with Kai and Scorch and Boss - though Boss was really only passing through the dance floor and ended up needing Kai to rescue him.

"Okay, everyone!" Kai eventually announced to the room, Boss standing slightly behind her like an enforcer. "We're going to start the holofilm in just a minute. Go ahead and pick your seats in the theater and we'll get some snacks moved in there."

The crowd began to filter into the room Kai had indicated and she waved you over. Before you could ask anything, she asked Boss, "Could you and Fixer take this table into the theater? We'll bring some food to go on it."

Boss glanced at you. "The two of you alone? Carrying all of that? Get Scorch and Sev to help you."

"Good idea," Kai said, beaming. "Thanks, Boss!"

And the tough leader of Delta Squad smiled back before he went to help Fixer move the table.

You turned back to Kai, eyebrows raised. She gave a demure wave and said, "I figured it out. Well, I had a little help, but I know how to get your answer."

"Yeah?" you asked, trying to invite her to continue without being too obvious.

Kai gave a sharp nod to someone behind you and shoved you - hard.

You stumbled, colliding with another person. Even as you breathed a silent hope that your suspicions were proved wrong, you saw the arms of a ray shield slowly spiraling down around you. It felt like you had all the time in the world to dodge the shield, but it had sealed in seconds.

"Scorch, I'll karking murder you," Sev's ultra-deep voice growled behind you.

"Yeah, you can try," Scorch told him cheerfully. "But you have to get out of there first. So you either struggle out, which gives me time to run, or you pucker up."

"Ouch," you muttered and Sev whirled around, brushing up against you in the tightly enclosed space.

When he saw you, a flash of something crossed his face. If he was more emotive, would you have been able to tell what it was? Impossible to say, it had gone so quickly…

"It's you," he said.

"It's me," you answered with a shrug.

“Did you plan this?” Sev asked, dark eyes bouncing across your face, like he was trying to see past your skin and into your thoughts.

“No.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, and you tried to convince yourself of that as he continued to study your expression. You couldn’t even claim you weren’t excited by this development. Sev rarely stood this close to you, and you were drunk on his size and his warmth and the way he smelled so good. He always did. Commandos didn’t own anything as frivolous as cologne, so it was just him.

Just as you were ready to admit that this situation wasn’t as not your fault as you would have liked it to be, Sev seemed to be convinced. At least, he was convinced enough to turn and glare in Scorch’s direction.

“And when I catch you, I’ll hit you an extra time for forcing an innocent party into this,” he said, gesturing at you. “I’m not gonna force myself on someone who doesn’t even want me to touch them.”

You heard Kai say your name softly, but with urging in her tone. She was right and you cleared your throat, gathering your courage. “I… I never said that.”

Sev turned back to you so quickly that it was a miracle he didn’t trip himself. “What did you say?”

“I said…” you started, steeling yourself enough to meet his eyes without flinching, “Well, what I meant is that I like you. I have for a while. I just didn’t want to say anything in case it made you uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable? You didn’t want to make me uncomfortable?”

Heat rose in your face and you let your eyes drop. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. I get if you don’t feel the same, but we’re already in the situation and- well, I guess you could see it as leading me on, but I understand if you just need to kiss me so you can go get back at Scorch and I promise I won’t read too much into it-”

One of Sev’s hands slid into your hair just behind your ear as the other rose to cup your jaw. Your eyes flew to his face, but fluttered shut a moment later as his mouth pressed to yours. It shouldn’t have been possible for such a tough, stern commando to have such soft lips, you reflected, but then those lips parted and you were lost in the cookie-flavored kiss.

When the two of you finally came up for air, you glanced around to find that the ray shield had disappeared. Kai was grinning widely at you, Boss looked shocked, and Fixer was rolling his eyes. Sev’s callused thumb brushed over your cheek and you looked back to find his warm gaze on yours.

“I think Scorch ran off,” you murmured.

“Kriff him,” Sev told you, utterly unconcerned. “I know you think too hard, so I’m gonna go ahead and say this so you know for sure: I did that because I wanted to, not because I wanted to go hit Scorch.”

You grinned at him, enjoying the way amusement immediately flared to mirror yours in his eyes. “But you want to do that, too, don’t you?”

His handsome face broke into a smile at that. “You know me so well, ner morut. I’m going to go beat the osik out of Scorch now. But I want to continue this later. Is that acceptable to you?”

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed.

“Save me a spot for the holofilm,” Sev growled, stepping away with menace in his movements. “This won’t take long.”

You watched him tear off after Scorch and couldn’t help but smile. Happy Life Day, indeed.

---

A/N - ner morut means 'my haven'. Kai Makani (and her friend Ark) are characters from my series Warriors in Red Armor, which can be found here.

Thanks for reading! Find other works on my masterlist or request something just for you!

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[marvel-starwars-nerd]

Liar Liar (Part 10/?)

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

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female Reader

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

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

The following week was exhausting.

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

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately, the ache in your head was another story.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine,” you muttered, “I’ll go.”

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

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

Right?

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

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

Unbelievable.

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

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

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

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

It was all fine. Normal.

Until you passed that same vent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was as good a place as any to start.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stiffly, he nodded and stepped inside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded, unsure what else to say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any luck on that prisoner?”

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

“Oh.” You shifted uncomfortably.

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

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

“Yeah,” Fox murmured. “Me too.”

Are we not there yet?

The silence stretched again.

“Haircut?”

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

“Your hair… looks different.”

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

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

You inhaled slowly—then regretted it immediately.

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

You swallowed hard.

“Any plans this evening?”

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

Silence. A few seconds too long.

“He did?”

There was something odd in his tone. Strained.

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

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

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

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

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

“Obviously not,” you muttered, sighing.

The lift still wasn’t there yet.

“Do you even know who Officer Sinja is?”

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

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

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

Fox had been watching.

The lift finally dinged.

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

But for a moment, you didn’t move.

And you weren’t sure why.

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

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

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

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

It was about him .

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

Your breath hitched. Then, softly, you nodded.

“Yes.”

And you stepped out.

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

Although, you find yourself really wanting to.

⋅⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅⋅

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

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

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

The dress.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grinned. “Always has been.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned. “Pia—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pia arched a brow. “Weird how?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tensed. “No.”

“Just hear him out.”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

Nobody did.

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I refill your drink?”

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

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

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

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

You snorted softly. “That obvious, huh?”

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

You arched a brow. “What look?”

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

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

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

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

Screw it. What’s one dance?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t give it.

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

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

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

“You trying to pick me up, shiny?”

“That depends. Is it working?”

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

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

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

And then you saw him.

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

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

But your body froze.

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

Because then she appeared.

A woman. Striking. Stunning.

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

Your stomach twisted.

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

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

“I’m Whisky, by the way.”

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

“What?”

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

Your world spun.

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

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

He shifts, confused. “Ma’am?”

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

“Did I say something wrong—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

What were the odds?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You alright?”

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

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

“Too much to drink, eh?”

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

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

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

You broke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The silence that followed stung.

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

“I know,” Hound said gently.

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

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

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

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

“That looked cosy.”

Ah. There it was.

Jealousy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fox glared at him but didn’t deny it.

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

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

“ Ow. ”

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

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

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

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

“That she still cares , idiot.”

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

“…She’s still pissed at me, though.”

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

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

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

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

🦊 Liar Liar Masterlist

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[marvel-starwars-nerd]

Liar Liar (Part 9/?)

Part Nine - Boiling Point // >> Part Eight

🫧pairings: Commander Fox X Female!Reader

🫧word count: 5.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What if he was in there?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That made you look up. “Really?”

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

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

“I appreciate that,” you say quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smirked, completely unashamed. “Probably not.”

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

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

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

Thire’s head snapped up. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it was exactly what you needed.

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

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

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

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

⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

The system was a disaster.

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

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

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

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

“ What the—?! ”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart clenched.

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

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

Hound frowned, head tilting slightly. “Why?”

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

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

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

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

Oh no.

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

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

Your breath caught in your throat.

He knew.

Hound had known .

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hound’s brows shot up. “Thire knows?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re the best,” Stone grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The vent sat still. Silent.

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

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

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

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

Your stomach sank like a anchor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you couldn’t process it.

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

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

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

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

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

Then it came—the thumping.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How about myself?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take it off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t even look at me.”

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

“But you did.” Your voice cracked.

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

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

“That’s not what I wanted—”

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

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

“Lied?”

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

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

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

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

His silence stretched just a moment too long.

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

“No, wait-”

“I’m done talking, Commander.”

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t referring to that.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wha-?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Out. ” Your voice was cold, final.

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

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

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

Who he said he was.

Who he said he wasn’t.

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

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

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

Silence stretched between you, heavy, suffocating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I was still me."

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[marvel-starwars-nerd]

Captain and General ~ Howzer x Fem!Jedi Reader

Summary: You were on a supply run to Ryloth with your battalion when Order 66 is issued. This isn't how you imagined the war ending, but with Howzer by your side, maybe all will be okay.

Word Count: 7.5k Warnings: Typical Canon-type violence briefly, brief scene depicting injury, Established relationship (kinda?), Order 66/Post Order 66, Angst, Smut (18+ only pls!)

flashback is in italics A/N: First fic in almost 3 years! I could have gone so much more in depth with some details of this fic, but I really wanted to keep it a one shot! This is my first full out smut so pls be kind *sobs*

Silence.

The only noise filling the air was the hum of the engine as you and Howzer sat in the bridge of the small vessel you stole. Silence between you two was a rarity. Over the years of the Clone Wars, Howzer fought by your side as the Captain of your battalion. As his general, he looked up to you, but the relationship soon grew deeper. You strived to get to know each of the men in your battalion on a personal level, especially the leadership. Conversation with Howzer had a natural flow, and it wasn't long before the two of you became close friends.

One night on Coruscant changed everything between you two. The men begged you to join them for a night out at 79's. As a Jedi, you held yourself to a high standard, and tried to convince them you had other things to attend to. But when one of the troopers called you a "party killer" you laughed and agreed to one drink.

One drink became two became three became you lost count became you giggling against your best friends lips in the alley next to the bar.

It wasn't a gentle, awkward first kiss you've heard horrid tales of. It was as if it was brewing inside the both of you for ages, waiting for the perfect moment. And although it wasn't the most romantic, some muggy alley next to 79's the last night of shore leave was that perfect moment.

He had you pressed against the wall as you both explored each other in new ways - your hands in his hair as his tongue danced against yours. But even in the heat of the moment, you noted the way he used the armor on his forearms to shield your face. He knew the consequences of these actions and how ultimately, those consequences would be much more dire for you.

The armor was a blessing and curse - you wanted it off. And as you both finally pulled back from the never-ending kiss, it was an unspoken agreement that neither of you would be returning back separately tonight.

Once you scanned around for the closest hotel, Howzer threw his arm around you and pulled you close, leaning his head into yours. After finally finding a place, and beginning to check in at the front desk, you noticed Howzer's eyes go wide, taking in the lobby around him. In the lift up to your room he questioned how you were paying for all of this. As you entered the room you answered his question with, "Don't worry about it, just kiss me."

And he did. The speeders outside flew past your one-way windows, unbeknownst to those outside that on the other side of the glass was a Jedi General and Clone Captain making love under the Coruscant lights.

It didn't feel like two years ago you woke up undressed and hungover next to him. It didn't feel like two years ago the two of you agreed this couldn't be a regular thing - as much as you wanted it to be.

When the war's over?

The question came out of him like a plea, but you just nodded and agreed.

When the war's over.

Now, of course, through those two years, there were similar indulgent moments between you with the hopes of this being a forever thing when the war's over keeping the flame alive.

So when Howzer heard a rumor about an inhibitor chip in each Clone's head that would make them turn on their Generals, he had no hesitation to get his removed. He was not going to risk losing you - especially with the blood on his hands.

Your confusion wasn't a surprise to him when he pulled you into the closest supply closet when the transmission to execute order 66 came through. Howzer quickly explained everything he knew, the inhibitor chips, everything, as you began the plot for your escape. Stealing a small ship was your best option. And when you finally made your way to the hangar without being caught, Howzer grabbed your forearm.

"What about the supplies? What about the other men?" he asked, softly tugging you away from the ship.

That's Howzer. Always focused on the mission and the well-being of others. It's one of the traits you admire most about him, and one you know led to his quick rise to leadership. If there was one thing he would never do, it was leave a brother behind. But today... today he didn't get that choice.

In the moment of chaos, you pulled your arm away and took a step back from him. There weren't words to describe the look on his face - some sort of mix between terrified, conflicted, and focused. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, sensing the other men nearing the hangar.

"Howzer," you sighed, wanting so bad to reach out to him and pull him into the ship with you. He stiffened at the sincerity at which you said his name. "You are good man. Always thinking about others, always wanting to finish the mission."

His eyes met yours as if he was lost, searching for direction, as you continued, "remember those old training holos they would show us for escape pods? When they said in case of hull breech, oxygen masks will deploy - put your mask on before helping others."

Howzer shut his eyes nodded, "yeah, I remember." He knew where you were going with this, and he hated that.

"Well, you better put your mask on before it's too late." He opened his eyes as you finished your sentence. You loosely smiled at him, hoping your words hit where they needed to. Knowing you had moments left before your own battalion shot you down, you took one last second to look at Howzer, memorizing every last detail of him in case this really was the last time you ever got to see your handsome Captain, then turned your back to him. As you climbed into the cockpit of the ship, you felt a familiar, comforting hand grip your shoulder. It wasn't until you finally made it off the Jedi Cruiser and made the jump to hyperspace, you felt as if you could let out half a breath.

"I thought the war being over would be the best moment of my life. And now, now I'm just, just kind of-"

"I know," you finish for him, staring into the abyss of the pending jump to hyperspace.

Howzer spent most the time in hyperspace twirling his fingers in his lap, pressing his lips together and periodically glancing over at you, wondering if you were thinking about him just as much as he thinks about you. Sure the Kaminoans took away individuality in some regards, but they couldn't take away the ability to daydream.

"Almost there" you hum, snapping him out of his trance.

He had no idea where you two were headed after this, but just as you trusted in him, he trusted in you. And he knew there was a plan wherever you were headed.

"Where exactly are we going?" He finally asked, letting his voice relax and formal demeanor drop.

The corner of your mouth slightly curved up, "home".

If he knew asking that would make you smile for the first time since the order was initiated, he would have asked sooner. Howzer didn't know where home is. He's asked before but you gave him a pretty general answer. You said you were from some Mid Rim planet but the Jedi Council took you to the temple before you were old enough to remember. Howzer wasn't buying it. He could see in your eyes that you knew more, but wouldn't say. At first, he took some offense that weren't willing to open up to him like that, but he eventually came to the conclusion that perhaps you just couldn't tell him.

You continued to remain silent through the remainder of the jump through hyperspace. As much as he wanted to talk to you, he tried to put himself in your mind - the soldiers you fought along side with for years just turned their weapons on you. Although he couldn't even begin to imagine half of trauma that was for you, he could imagine that what you needed was to be in your own head space. If you wanted to talk to him, you would - and he was fully aware or that.

Watching his brothers shoot at you was horrific for him to witness as well. The rumors he heard about the inhibitor chips suddenly became truth and he knew that by removing his chip a while back, this life was also in danger. The moments after Order 66 was initiated kept replaying in his mind even though he desperately wished he could erase it from his members forever.

"Prepare to exit hyperspace," you instructed, snapping Howzer out of his miserable trance.

The shipped shuttered as you navigated out of hyperspace, spitting the vessel out in front of a planet Howzer recognized all too well. He thought back to his days as a cadet on Kamino and shook his head, wondering what younger him would been thinking if he knew he would be willingly fly to planet they were being instructed to remain clear of.

A deep gulp escaped his lips, "sir, don't you think-"

"Don't call me sir. The war is over. I'm not your general anymore.."

"I'm not your general anymore."

Hearing you say that pierced through him in ways he didn't know possible. That's how he met you, that's how he knows you, that's who you are. Who you were. The thought of you not being his general was a thought that never crossed his mind because why would it? It's all he's known.

"I- uhm- where is the blockade?" Howzer began to stutter, watching you casually fly into the atmosphere of a well-known and unprotected Separatist planet

You glanced at him and nervously chuckled, resting your hand on top of his, slowly rubbing your thumb against the rough, yet soft skin on the back of his hand. "Given the state of the galaxy at the moment, I'd assume the blockade has better places to be."

As you finished your sentence, you turned your head to the cockpit window and nodded your chin upwards. Howzer, who's eyes have been locked on your hand on his, shot his glance up and blinked a few times.

Coming through the dense, thick clouds of the atmosphere revealed a landscape sprawling of mountains and forest, yet while squinting he could swear there was a city scape on the horizon.

"The whole planet's not like this, and sure it's deep in Seppy space, but I guess the Seppys don't exist anymore, and,' you shrugged and let out a crude laugh, veering the ship slightly to the left, "well, I guess the Jedi don't either."

Although it was meant to lighten the mood, Howzer couldn't help close his eyes and begin gently grinding his teeth against the inside of cheeks. Who knew words could hit like a blast to the chest, then linger and burn all the weight in the galaxy on top of you while aflame.

Since receiving the dreaded transmission, his primary goal has been protecting you. Having a moment to think, the realization that the Republic, the Jedi Order, the core of what he was created for is gone washed over his body. A put began to form in his stomach as he let his body slump into his seat, staring blankly out the cockpit window. His breaths became slower and heavier, and he felt the weight of the galaxy closing in on him.

It wasn't until you began to land the ship next to a small home that the weight began retreating. Looking for words to say, Howzer opened his mouth, hoping the words would just come out.

Before he could speak, you relaxed your head on your shoulder and gave him a weak smile while placing your pointer and middle finger on his jaw, moving his head to face yours, "Welcome to my home, your new home."

Your words struck him. His new home. Sure Kamino was technically home but it felt more like a birth place than a home. Although it will always hold a special place in his heart, Kamino felt cold and unwelcoming most times. Not like a home at all.

"Howzer," you exhaled, waving your hand loosely across the cockpit window, "Welcome to Eriadu."

His lips slowly parted as he raised and eyebrow, "You're from deep Seppy space?"

You shrugged, giving him a cheeky grin before playfully wincing, "surprise?". He smirked and rolled his eyes, blowing a breath out of pursed lips. "And I have been thinking about every possible question you could have, so, have at it."

Howzer bit the tip of his tongue and let out a laugh before inhaling. You had a unique way of switching up your tone to mask even the worst of situations. Throughout the war, there were countless times he appreciated your lightheartedness. Even though he wasn't certain now was the most appropriate time, it was always difficult for him not to match your energy. "Why would "not any more Seppy" Seppy Space be safe? Why would your old home, which is associated with you, be safe? If you're from here, won't they find you through family? Where are we hiding the ship?"

Your eyes slowly narrowed at Howzer with each question asked. Were they reasonable questions? Yes. Were they asked with a little snark? Sure. "One, because why would a Jedi be crazy enough to come to Separatist Space? Two, this house is technically not associated with me. Three, why would a Jedi be stupid enough to go back to their home planet. And my family is dead by the way. Four, this landing pad lifts under ground," you grinned back, mocking his snark.

His smile dropped and you finished your answers.

"What?" you huffed, rolling your eyes and flicking a wrist up, "I answered your questions and I don't know about you, but I've had a pretty bad day so I figured I could rely on you to allow me to try to lighten the mood."

Howzer's forearms quickly lifted his shoulders in surrender, his head tilting slightly. "Hey now," he lowered his arms before standing up from his seat. Instead of looking at him, you stared straight through the cockpit window at the woods outside as Howzer stepped towards you. His warm, cupped hand placed on your shoulder quickly snapped you out of your trance, snapping your gaze up at him. But Howzer was looking out the window, giving you the perfect view of the underside of his scarred chin. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry about your family," he whispered just loud enough for you to hear before moving his chin down to meet your glance. Your eyes met for a brief moment before he gave you two sturdy taps on the shoulder, "I'll go check if there are any supplies we can bring inside," he nodded before exiting the cockpit, leaving you alone for the first time since the order came through.

You didn't know if you wanted to scream, cry, force crush something, destroy something with your lightsaber, a combination of everything or nothing. The ping of your holoprojector in pocket stopped you in your throughs. It was a chime you've only heard during your days at the Temple as a Youngling...The Jedi Beacon. You've always been told that chime declared emergency, and all Jedi were to report to the Temple immediately. You pulled the holoprojector from your pocket: Incoming transmission from Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Skeptical, you pressed the side of the device, a blue grainy image of your Jedi companion appearing before you.

"This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place. This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi: trust in the Force. Do not return to the Temple. That time has passed, and our future is uncertain. Avoid Coruscant. Avoid detection. Be secret… but be strong. We will each be challenged: our trust, our faith, our friendships. But we must persevere and, in time, I believe a new hope will emerge. May the Force be with you, always."

You let the message replay over and over as you tried to process each word. Howzer was right - the Jedi were gone. All you've grown up to know has just vanished in an instant and you're left to pick up the pieces and try to survive with almost nothing. You angrily pounded on the ships navigation, erasing the vessel's data logs and wiping it's Republic clearance codes - isolating yourself and Howzer from any other survivors.

After allowing yourself a few deep breaths, your pushed yourself back from your seat and exited the ship, making your way towards the pad lift controls. Specs of rust over a few buttons caught your eye - it's been years since you operated a small private residential lift like this one.

Howzer stayed on the ship, rummaging through each and every compartment as you played with the lift buttons. A few attempts later, the vessel was finally underground and out of sight. Still hearing Howzer opening compartments on the ship, you decided to do an external sweep for any tracking devices.

"If this house isn't associated with you, then who's is it?" his question breaking the silence.

Howzer waited for you to finish your inspection, wondering if you had an elaborate story or a simple answer. As you rounded the end of the ship, finishing the inspection, he got his answer. "That's a good one," you gently laugh, a forced smile curling your lips, "but it's a long story we can talk about that later. Seems like we'll have plenty of time."

"I guess so," Howzer agreed, walking by your side towards the entrance to the home from the underground micro hangar. The door buzzed open for the both of you, revealing the home inside.

Occasionally, Howzer would imagine what his life could be like after the war. Every scenario had you by his side, but that was all he could remember in this moment. He didn't have much time to process the idea that you two would be going to a home together, so he had expectations for the place. But somehow, it felt so comforting - so right. Subconsciously, he found himself placing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side before forcefully wrapping his other arm around your back, pressing your body against his chest. As he pulled you in closer, he rested his cheek on the top of your head. "I am so sorry. It wasn't supposed to end like this," he rasped, slightly bowing his head in sorrow.

Ugh. It wasn't his fault. He saved you, protected you. But you knew deep down there was nothing you could say to rid the guilt. Instead of trying to find words you pressed your head deeper into his chest, only to be met with the hard, cool, uncomfortable plastiod barrier between you and Howzer.

In the private moments you two shared throughout the war, you have never taken off his armor. He's always done it - the mere handful of times you've indulged on each other. Up until now, it was something you've never thought about. But that didn't matter because right now, Howzer was slowly lifting his head off yours as you lifted his pauldron over his head and let it fall to the floor. Howzer quickly returned his head to yours as you dragged your fingers up his back and to the clasps of his chest, back and stomach plates, allowing them to meet a similar fate as his pauldron.

Finally. You made a hum of content as you dug your head into his chest. "Thank you for saving me," you whispered against him. Howzer didn't need to respond, holding you tighter was more than enough. All you could hear was the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat against your temple as he pulled off his gloves one by one, careful not to loosen his hold on you.

A newfound warmth radiated across his body as you sunk your head deeper into his chest, then quickly dissipated. He was guilty. He'd never admit it to you, but holding you tight in his arms, making you feel safe without fear of the consequences that would come with doing so was a frequent dream of his.

His emotions battled internally. His heart was full, complete even, but at what cost? He lost his brothers and all he's known. You lost the Jedi all you've known. All you two had left was each other. It was bittersweet, but he felt ashamed for feeling the sweet part.

Why him? Why did he make it out? He reminded himself that it was because he removed his chip but logic wasn't good enough at the moment.

You could sense his inner turmoil and began to relax your arms. He lifted his head off yours to meet your gaze, gently tucking your hair out of your face and behind your ear. "We should get cleaned up," he suggested, bending down to pick up his armor and placing it neatly on the nearby dining table.

You stood still, watching him pick up his armor - eyes locked on him. With one transmission, you went from being able to fearlessly protect yourself and others to feeling defenseless. Howzer became your only defense in an instant. The home was empty, the force told you that, but you didn't want to look around without him - you didn't want to leave his side. When he finished placing his armor on the table, he extended his arms out towards the rest of the home as if he was ushering you along. You've seen the place once or twice but you didn't remember much.

A brief walkthrough revealed three bedrooms and two washrooms, all fully furnished. Even some furniture had clothing in it - Howzer would have some questions about that later. You managed to find some loungewear that seemed large enough for Howzer and handed it to him before he reached into a closet for towels.

He took the clothing with a warm smile, "I'll take the refresher in the hallway. If you want to use the one in that bedroom over there, I'll be finished before you - I know you enjoy your long showers."

You appreciated his small joke and accompanying smirk, but you didn't want a long shower tonight. Just getting the day's filth off was enough.

"Hey," you called after him just as he was about to close the door behind him. He stopped and peered his head out as you brought your hands to your head, tangling your fingers in your hair and pulling slightly. You closed your eyes, unsure how to phrase your next words. After shaking your head a few times, you opened your eyes to see Howzer still in the doorway, patiently awaiting what you had to say, "I- I'd like, or, well, I think I'd like to forget about earlier. At least for tonight," you exhale, tugging your fingers out of your hair. "If that's alright," you hastily add.

A comforting smile forms on his lips, nodding once. "Of course," he mouthes before closing the 'fresher door. You stood alone in the hallway, listening to yourself breathe for a moment before heading to your shower.

Howzer, of course, finished before you.

The bedroom closet had much more clothing than yours at the Temple, but the options for sleeping clothes seemed limited. Scanning the various drawers for anything to put on, you made sure to take a mental note that a holonet shopping trip may need to be in the near future. Of what few choices you had, you opted for the comedically oversized t-shirt and sweatpants, that to your surprise, were a good it. Before opening the bedroom door, you caught your reflection in the mirror and stopped. Although you showered, you still felt as if you looked a wreck. Attempting to make yourself look somewhat together, you ran your fingers through your damp hair.

Only a few strokes later, you caught yourself and gave yourself a glare through the mirror, scolding yourself. It was Howzer out there. Howzer. The man that has quite literally seen you after a 10 day campaign on Geonosis without a proper shower, and still sat next to you in the mess the next day.

But then you began stroking your hair again. Howzer is also the man that you made you question your loyalty to the Jedi, and want to love. To be loved.

Seven times. Seven times over the course of roughly two years have you allowed yourself a brief tease of what that life could be like. Seven times has Howzer showed his loyalty to his General in ways that would get him court-martialed and executed on the spot. Seven times when you both wanted seven thousand times. But you couldn't - because you were a Jedi, and he was your battalion Captain.

Were. Was.

The Jedi were no more, and so was the GAR. You weren't a Jedi and a Captain in an illicit affair. You were now just two friends, who want so desperately be more.

It's been almost five standard month since your last, "inventory count", as you two called it. The opportunity just wasn't available and the stress of the ongoing war made it almost feel as if it was not even worth the pain of trying to close off your heart to him.

Finally, you opened the bedroom door and found him leaning against the wall across from you.

"So-"

"Can-"

The two of you spoke in unison. "You go," he nodded, lifting his body off the wall.

Words didn't come out. It was incredible how just looking at him could make the worst of days seem okay. The dark bags under his eyes were perfectly balanced by the brightness in his eyes as he stared with you. He always gave you the same look. Although he never said how he felt, you could see it. He was in love you - and he so desperately wanted to confess it.

Whether you were freshly showered, covered in battle dirt or dressed in your most formal Jedi attire, Howzer looked at you like you were the epitome of beauty. Droplets of water from his damp hair ran down the back of his neck and onto his t-shirt, wetting his collar. You scanned him from head to toe, admiring every detail - just as he was doing for you.

"I'm waiting," he playfully jabbed, pressing his lips together, raising an eyebrow. He knew what you were doing. Given the events of the day was flirting perhaps a bit unorthodox? Sure. But Howzer couldn't resist any little bit you would be willing to give him - it was intoxicating. And besides, you asked to forget about today, at least for tonight.

His eyes didn't dare break away from yours as you slowly stepped towards him, placing your hand on his un-scarred cheek. Howzer hated when you got near his scar - he'd always flinch away before you could touch him there. You always just let it be that way, and never asked why. He would succumb to your touch when he was ready - you knew that. As you dragged your palm against his cheek, his breaths deepened.

"You shaved," you noted, watching your thumb run across his jaw, stopping at his chin.

He flinched, using every muscle in his body to keep his hands off you. "Fresh face for new beginnings."

"How romantic." You opened your hand and rested your palm on his neck, slowly dragging your hand down his shoulder, arm, and finally taking ahold of his hand. With a slight tug, you pulled him towards the bedroom.

Howzer stumbled into your pull and through the door frame, pressing the door shut him. His hand fell from yours as you continues towards the bed, leaving Howzer at the door. He didn’t move right away, but instead just took a moment to admire you.

“Stop staring,” you teased, voice low and warm, yet playful.

He smirked, stepping towards you, letting his hands settle lightly on you waist, “Can’t help it,” he admitted, “you’re distracting.”

You leaned into him with a quiet exhale, your body fitting against his chest perfectly, as it always did. He pressed his face into your hair, breathing you in and letting everything outside the room fall away. Howzer snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you off the ground just enough to place you in bed before climbing in after you.

The holoprojector remote on the bedside table caught his eye, and with a teasing smirk, he grabbed it and clicked it on. A holovid flickered on the screen, casting soft blue hues across the room.

You raised an eyebrow, “Really? You want to watch a holovid now?”

Howzer's grin widened, “Did you have any other plans?”

You let out pitifully sigh then glanced up at him, carefully placing your hand next to your head on his upper thigh. He looked down to meet your eyes. His look began absolutely melting you as if you were under some spell. Instinctually, you began to rise, bringing your leg over his lap to straddle him. His hands rested on your lower back as you sat on his lap, pressing your forehead against his, "Hey."

"Hey," he cooed with a smile, snaking his hands up your back. His smile turned to puckered lips as he groaned in satisfaction while planted soft, deep kisses in a line across his cheek, stopping behind his ear.

"Do your worst cyar'ika," he breathed against your skin, eager for you to begin marking his favorite sensitive spot. The war was over - so were worries of leaving any evidence behind.

Another groan escaped his lips and you began to suck on the skin behind his ear, running your hand through his hair simultaneously. Desperate for more, his hands moved to your hips, rocking them back and forth against his.

"I'd be willing to bet," you mumble against his ear, giving him one last, hard, nibble on his earlobe, "you're quite comfortable without a codpiece right now." Howzer rapidly nodded as you lifted your lips off his ear. You were also quite comfortable without the codpiece. With each motion of your hip, you could feel his arousal growing underneath you. You silently curse yourself for not getting this man sweatpants sooner before rolling your hips over his a few more times while grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

Slowly, the smile on your face flattens, and your eyes wander to the scar across Howzer's upper pec. Another area you haven't dared touch - Haven't dared touch in the past. Never before were you two as close to losing each other as you were today, and you'll be damned if you ever let anything close to that happen again. What matters right now is that each of you are together, alive. You took your eyes off his scar to meet his - his face covered with his self consciousness over his scar.

"Howzer," you rasped, your thumb nearing the raised skin. He stared at you wide eyed, anxiously awaiting your next words. This isn't a situation he anticipated or prepared for. But you didn't have words.

The last time you surveyed his scar this intensively was on Geonosis, shortly after you were assigned as his General - the memory hitting you like a ton of debris.

In a desperate attempt to stop Grievous from escaping Geonosis, you charged after his fleeing ship. Nothing was going to stop you from boarding that ship with him. Grievous had to be brought down for this war to end. Your sole focus was capturing Grievous. It consumed you to the point where you became oblivious of your surroundings.

Hozwer sprinted after you, using every last bit of strength to catch up, "General! Look out!" he called out, trying to get your attention. But it was too late. In a last ditch effort, he dove towards you, attempting to collide with you. He missed.

The sudden loud crack of electricity behind you, followed by Howzer's muffled cry of pain stopped you in your tracks.

"Howzer what the hell?!" you screamed at him, his body limp on the ground at your feet, "I had him. Why did you-" you cut yourself off as you watched a bounty hunter just yards away retract his electro-whip and jet pack onto Grievous' escape vessel.

Suddenly, Grievous didn't matter anymore. Howzer's armor was shattered and melted in a mangled mess. "You're not leaving me today General," he coughed through a static heavy helmet. You pulled Howzer's helmet off. His head was rolled to one side, eyes shut.

"Hey. Hey. Hey!" you desperately yelled, hastily tapping his temple and holding his head up. Nothing. You slowly put down his head and ran your eyes from his face down to his torso. The electro-whip torched him. You couldn't tell where skin met plastiod met bone met debris, but you could tell it was bad. Perhaps it was better if he was unconscious.

But you kept thinking why? Why did he risk his life like this? Why is he going to have scars for the rest of his life because of your decisions?

"And I'd do it again," Howzer whispered, snapping you out of your trance of the distant memory.

You couldn't finish your words because you didn't have words. There were no words that to even to begin to compete with the actions of his sacrifice. So instead, you finished your words by pressing a soft kiss to the scar tissue on his chest. He sharply inhaled at sight, imagining how it must feel as the burns left him numb in the area. You slowly and delicately continued the trail of kisses up to his cheek. He closed his eyes and exhaled heavy, digging his fingers into your lower back as you began grinding yourself against him again.

Impatiently, he rolled his head, desperately trying to connect his lips to yours. You let out a soft laugh, moving your lips to where his jaw meets his ear.

His hands gripped your hips tighter with each slow roll against him, fingertips digging in just enough to let you know how much he was holding back.

A low and rough groan came from his throat, “You’re doing that on purpose.”

“Doing what?” you murmured, brushing your lips across his cheek, nose and to the other cheek feeling the tension coil in his core.

“That.” It came out like more of complaint. Trying again, he tilted his head toward yours, thinking he might finally close the gap. You didn’t let him.

You hovered your lips over his, slowly pulling away with a grin while continuing to roll your hips over his. “Maybe I just like seeing you like this,” you whispered, the corner of your mouth grazing the line of his jaw.

He cursed under his breath, hands jerking at your waist as if he might pull you flush against him and finally take what you were denying him. But he didn’t, not yet. “Please,” he exhaled, voice dropping into a growl, “If you’re going to keep doing this, at least let me kiss you.”

Your lips paused just shy of his, both of you breathing hard, tension becoming tighter and tighter between your bodies.

“Say it again,” you whispered, lips grazing his.

He swallowed hard, his eyes filled with desperation, “let me kiss you.”

The space between you suddenly feels charged, vibrating with everything unspoken and everything you've tiptoed around throughout the war.

Your lips meet like all the air between you two was the vacuum of space

The kiss is immediate, breathless, hungry. There’s no easing into it, no gentle testing of the waters. Just crashing together, allowing the 5 months of drawn-out tension snapping like a thread pulled too tight. His hands are on your hips in a heartbeat, pulling you down against him, grounding you in the moment as your body presses flush to his.

Your fingers find their way into his hair, clutching, anchoring. You kiss him like he’s the life you’ve been denied, like his mouth holds every remedy to every ache you’ve been carrying through the day. He returns it with equal force.

“I’ve wanted this,” he mumbles hoarsely against your lips. “You. For so long.”

Your shirt is gone. Somewhere between kisses, it ended up discarded. You barely remember pulling it off, or if it was you or him who was responsible. All you know is that his hands are on your bare skin now, gentle and shaking slightly. Not from fear, but from restraint. Like he’s still trying not to fall apart beneath you, even though you’re already unraveling together.

A moan breaks free from your lips as he whispers your name like a secret he doesn't keep anymore, "Maker, you're beautiful."

"Yours," you remind him, pulling your lips off his and planting a quick peck on his nose. He winced at the sensation of his lonely lips. "Relax," you hum, latching your mouth onto his collarbone, carefully sucking the skin just hard enough to make sure there'll be a mark in the morning.

He tensed.

Your mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down the length of his torso, your breath hot against his skin. Each press of your lips drawing a subtle shiver from him. Each drag of your fingers over his ribs made his grip on your thighs tighten. His head tipped back against the headboard, parting his lips as he exhaled raggedly.

His breaths grew more shaky as you curled your index fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants. In one swift motion, you pulled his waistband down to his mid-thigh, exposing his hardened length to the cool air.

You whispered his name against his shaft, slowly shifting your gaze to meet his, "And to think I haven't even touched you yet."

"Kriffing Maker," he muttered, his cock twitching under your breath.

Without warning, you pressed your tongue to the base of him, and dragged up to the tip, slowly applying a few circles where his tip meets his shaft. He bucked his hips upward, allowing you to take his full length into your mouth.

Howzer's eyes rolled to the back of his head as his back arched, the feeling of you mouth around him filling him with euphoria. But then he felt your hand gently begin to massage his balls - and something snapped inside him.

His grasps for your hair, not quite rough, but almost commanding as he pulls you up. Before you can even catch your breath, you're on your back, the shift so sudden it leaves you dizzy. Craving him, your hands wrap around his shoulders as he hovers over you, panting. There’s something different in his gaze now. He's like he's hungry. After kicking his sweatpants off, he carefully slides your shorts off, tossing them aside and returning to his hovering position over you.

He brushes your hair off your face, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that contradicts the heat thrumming between you. “You've been driving me insane for two years now,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion, "you know that, right?”

His mouth crashes onto yours before you can answer. There’s no teasing this time. It's time you give this man the break he deserves. His lips against yours like he needs this, like he’s been holding back for too long. His kiss steals the breath from your lungs, and you meet him with equal force, threading your fingers into his hair and pulling him closer.

You whimper against his lips as he brushes his length against your wet opening.

Howzer pulled himself up, admiring you underneath him before placing quick pecks haphazard across your face between words, chucking as he spoke, "Look. Who's. Impatient. Now." After the last peck of hovered his face over yours, awaiting your response.

"Please," you begged, far beyond the point of trying to not succumb to his teasing.

Howzer huffed, "That's what I thought, love." You parted your lips, but before you could lift your head to meet his, he pushed his full length into you. An involuntarily squeak slipped from your throat as he pressed deeper and deeper into you.

"Kriffing Maker you are tight for me," he purred between clenched teeth, your walls clenching around his fully erect cock. "You have no idea how much I've been thinking about this," he continued, sliding himself slowly out of you before quickly thrusting back in.

You moaned at every thrust, feeling his tip curl up and hit you at the perfect depth, "But- I-" you tried to get out, but you couldn't.

Howzer cut you off with a kiss, quickening the pace of his trusts, murmuring against your lips, "not a peep until you come for me is that clear?"

Feverishly, you nodded, digging your nails into his back as the sound of his balls slapping your ass drowned out the sound of the holovid. Know how close he had you made him shift his pace to a speed and force he didn't know he was capable of achieving.

"Just like this forever now, okay?" he whispered in your ear, giving your lobe a slight nibble.

That small touch was all you needed, "Fuck Howzer," you gasped out loud, your orgasm clenching around him. His name left your lips a few more times as you pulsated around him, eagerly awaiting his release.

Howzer continued to pump in and out of you as you rode out your orgasm, begging him to finish. Your pleas were always his Achilles heel. His body suddenly collapsed, cock twitching inside you before releasing.

He remained limp on top you, exhaling hot and heavy breaths. Still desperate for him, your tangled your fingers in his hair, and closed your eyes, scratching and head and trying not to black out. The harder you scratched his head, the deeper his groans became before he finally moved his head to face you. He gave you a loose smile before planting a quick kiss on your lower lip and slowly pulling his softened cock out of you. You frowned at the motion.

Howzer gave you a cheeky grin, "Don't look at me like you won't get it again. I'm just going to clean us up." You rolled your eyes while Howzer leaned off the edge of the bed, grabbing his discarded t-shirt and carefully wiping the mess he made below your waist.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low with a hint of exhaust.

You didn’t answer right away. Your eyes were half-shut, focused on the rise and fall of his chest as he tossed the t-shirt of the bed and settled in next to you, pulling you into his chest. The rhythm was steady and soothing as you nodded against him. “I am now.”

Your response seemed to ease something within him that neither of you knew needed to be eased. You felt the way he relaxed, the tension in his shoulders melting as he exhaled into the top of your head. He held you tighter after that, like he didn’t quite trust that the treat of you being ripped from him may be gone.

You shifted slightly, laying you hand over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath your palm. His hand rose to cover yours.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly, running his other hand gently down your arm.

“I won’t let you.”

He sighed a sleepy chuckle, “I guess we’re stuck with each other then.”

“Good," you smiled, tilting you head up, just enough to press a gentle kiss to his jaw. It wasn’t about passion now. It was about reassurance. Presence. He turned his head to rest his forehead against your, and for a long moment, you just breathed the same air, eyes closed, hearts aligned.

The bed creaked as he shifted to cradle you closer, tucking your head beneath his chin. His arms strong but gentle and there was nowhere else you wanted to be. For once, the galaxy could wait. The galaxy didn't need you.

Eventually, his breathing evened out. Sleep was claiming him, slow and steady, but you stayed awake a little longer, listening to the soft hum of the who knows how old power unit outside and the holovid that was never turned off. Everything was still.

You traced a small circle over his chest with one fingertip, memorizing the feel of his skin. Your Captain. Your best friend. Your love.

You both survived. And now, finally, you could both begin to live.

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Screaming, crying, throwing up

See me in a new light.