natertaterrr

[natertaterrr]

Forgetful

I keep forgetting to put pictures at the top of my fic chapters.

[natertaterrr]

Buckethead - 2

Ok so, here's another one! It's much shorter, but I hope you like it!

Word Count: idk like, 1.7k or something

The testing lab hums with activity, engineers rushing to finalize the prototype for flight trials. You’re deep in analysis, checking last-minute details when the overhead comm crackles to life.

"Unexpected field test required. Modified TIE fighter deployment initiated. R&D personnel—prepare for immediate response."

You exchange a glance with J-7. There’s no hesitation—within minutes, you're both en route to the hangar, where the prototype is being prepped for real-flight testing. But there’s a problem. The pilot assigned to the test refuses to take the fighter out, citing unstable readings from previous diagnostics.

The officer overseeing the project turns to you. "We need someone to run a controlled flight test. You designed the adjustments—are you confident enough to prove they work?"

The challenge is clear. You hesitate for half a second before nodding. "I can do it."

J-7 steps forward, unexpected determination in his stance. "I’ll go with her."

You don’t have time to question it. Minutes later, you and J-7 climb into the cockpit of the modified fighter. It’s cramped, the console unfamiliar but responsive under your touch. He slides into the co-pilot seat with ease, his movements precise.

As the engines fire up, your pulse quickens. "Hope you can handle the ride," you tease.

J-7 chuckles. "Just don’t get us killed."

The launch sequence initiates. The fighter surges forward, leaving the hangar behind. Adrenaline rushes through you.

Outside, the stars stretch endlessly—cold, beautiful, and vast. The modified TIE fighter slices through the void, its systems humming beneath your fingertips as you push it further into real-flight conditions. Every adjustment you made, every recalibration—it’s all on the line now.

J-7 stays silent, his gaze flicking between the displays and the star-speckled abyss outside. It’s only when you execute a tight roll—seamless, controlled—that he exhales

You smile, keeping your focus on the controls as you yourself exhale with relief

Soon after, a warning light flickers. Your stomach tightens as you assess the alert—stabilizer calibration is fluctuating under real-flight pressure. Not catastrophic, but it demands action.

You adjust the settings, fingers flying over the controls. J-7 notices, his voice low but sharp. "You seeing this?"

"Yeah. Minor recalibration issue—shouldn’t be a problem." Your voice is steady, though your pulse kicks up a notch.

There’s a brief pause before he says, "You trust your own work?"

You glance at him. The question isn’t mocking—it’s measured. A test of confidence, maybe. You nod once. "I wouldn’t be in this cockpit if I didn’t."

J-7 watches you for a beat longer, then shifts his focus back to the displays. "Then let’s see it through."

The words feel heavier than they should, something unspoken settling between you. Trust—real trust—isn’t given lightly, but in this moment, in this cockpit, it’s beginning to take shape. 

The silence between you stretches, filled only by the hum of the engines and the rhythmic blinking of the instrument panel. The stabilizer alert fades as your recalibration holds, but J-7 remains quiet, scanning readouts with professional focus. You bring the TIE fighter back to the hangar and dock it before exiting back onto the Death Star with relief that you only encountered one minor issue during the flight test.

The lead technician makes a few notes before saying, “That’s enough work for today you guys, take the rest of the day off. Good work today.” 

You exhale with relief and go back to your office to grab your things.You look up to see J-7 had followed you to your office and was standing in the doorway. You look at him with slight apprehensiveness and say, “I meant to ask you…what brought you to the testing lab?

J-7 shifts slightly, hesitating just long enough for you to notice. His stance is measured, his expression unreadable, but there’s something behind his gaze—something he hasn’t said yet.

“I wasn’t supposed to be here,” he admits, his voice quieter than before. “At least, not originally.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Then why did you come?”

J-7 exhales, glancing toward the corridor before stepping fully into your office. He closes the door behind him, the motion deliberate. “Because I knew you’d need backup.”

The simplicity of the statement catches you off guard. You expected a more technical reason—a last-minute assignment, a directive from command. But no, this was personal.

“You knew the prototype might fail?” you ask, watching him carefully.

He shakes his head. “Not exactly.” His eyes meet yours then, steady. “But sometimes, even the best calculations don’t account for the unexpected.”

A beat of silence stretches between you.

“So you volunteered?”

J-7 smiles faintly, shrugging. “Something like that.”

You study him for a moment, the weight of his words settling in. He chose to be here, to watch your back, and you’re starting to realize that means something.

Something you’re not quite ready to define.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the datapad in your hands before you finally nod. “Well... thanks.”

J-7 grins. “Don’t mention it.”

But you know this moment isn’t one you’ll forget anytime soon.

You smile at him as you exit your office and start heading back to your room, and he leaves to execute his own orders. You make your way down the corridor to your room and immediately change into comfier clothes and sink onto the bed. You stare at the ceiling for a bit, thinking about the day’s events.

A few weeks to a month later. Idk just enough to time for y’all to have a relationship of somesort where you hang out frequently and eat together ig. I don’t feel like writing all that plot, and if you don’t like it, you can read a different stormtrooper fic. Jk, no you can’t. You’re probably not here for a super sturdy plot anyway. So enjoy this timeskip brought to you by my left, non-existant, testicle:)

A month had passed since the flight test, but the memory of it never quite faded. The modified TIE fighter had performed well enough in subsequent trials, its design tweaked based on the data gathered that day. Engineering life aboard the Death Star remained steady, the hum of system diagnostics and recalibrations filling the days with routine precision.

And yet, one detail remained anything but routine—J-7.

At first, his presence seemed incidental. A passing glimpse in the corridor, an occasional nod of acknowledgment during security briefings. But as the days blurred into weeks, you noticed a pattern. He wasn’t stationed near engineering, yet somehow, he always had an excuse to be around—an escort duty, a perimeter check, a vague security review. He never lingered long, never made it obvious, but the frequency of your encounters didn’t feel coincidental.

Then, one afternoon, the pattern broke.

You were reviewing diagnostics in the testing lab when a comm alert flickered to life.

“Testing personnel, report for security debriefing. Incident in bay five.”

Frowning, you locked your terminal and made your way toward the briefing room. When you arrived, J-7 was already there, arms crossed, helmeted gaze unreadable. The officer leading the briefing wasted no time—an unauthorized modification had been made to a TIE fighter scheduled for deployment. Nothing drastic, but enough to raise concerns. Someone had bypassed standard protocols.

“We need to know who had access,” the officer said. “If this kind of interference continues, fleet integrity will be compromised.”

You glanced at J-7, catching the subtle tension in his stance.

After the meeting adjourned, you caught up to him in the corridor. “Something’s bothering you.”

His voice was low, modulated by his helmet. “People are starting to take risks. Ones they shouldn’t.”

The words hung in the air between you.

Before you could respond, another voice called your name. One of the engineers from your sector motioned toward the mess hall. “Lunch?”

You blinked, glancing back at J-7. “You eaten yet?”

There was a pause. Then, to your mild surprise, J-7 nodded. “Not yet.”

The mess hall was crowded, personnel coming and going in waves between shifts. You grabbed a tray of standard rations, seating yourself at one of the quieter tables. J-7 followed, setting his own tray down across from you.

Then, without ceremony, he reached up and disengaged the latches on his helmet, pulling it off with a smooth efficiency. He set the helmet beside him, rolling his shoulders slightly before grabbing his fork.

You found yourself studying him a little too long, enough that he noticed. “Something wrong?” he asked between bites.

You came back to and shook your head, “No. No, sorry.” you said flushed. “It’s just…still weird seeing you without a helmet…”

“I look weird?” He asked with a sly grin. 

“No!” you say, feeling bad, but you see his grin and give him a look of knowing. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!” 

J-7 chuckled, leaning back slightly as he popped another bite of food into his mouth. “Relax, I’m messing with you.”

You rolled your eyes, but the flush on your face remained. “Yeah, well, maybe warn me next time before you pull off the helmet and make it weird.”

He tilted his head, amused. “Pretty sure I did warn you, we’re eating.”

“That’s not the same thing,” you muttered, stabbing at your food with more force than necessary.

J-7 watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with an air of casual ease, he rested his forearms against the table. “You act like I’m some great mystery, but I’m just a guy who follows orders.”

“That’s a very stormtrooper thing to say.”

“Would you prefer something more poetic?” He smirked. “‘Beneath the helmet lies a tortured soul yearning for freedom—’”

You burst out laughing, cutting him off. “Alright, now you’re just being dramatic.”

J-7 shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one making a big deal about seeing me without the helmet.”

You sighed, shaking your head with a small smile. “Fine. You’re right. It’s just… I guess I got used to talking to the helmet, and I know we eat together all the time but it’s just so…surreal.”

He lifted his tray slightly. “Well, if it makes you more comfortable, I can put it back on.”

You smiled at his words. “No, weirder. Definitely weirder. I don’t wanna see you try and eat with a helmet on.” I chuckled. “Besides, I’d rather see your face that shows your expressions than a helmet everone has to wear.” (sorry to you mask kink girlies)

His expression softens a little with your words and the banter settled between you, easy, natural in a way you hadn’t expected. As you both finished eating, he slid his helmet back into place with practiced efficiency. “I guess this is the part where I pretend like I wasn’t here,” he mused.

You smirked. “Well, if anyone asks, I was just having lunch with a mysterious masked enigma, yearning for freedom.”

J-7 stood, picking up his tray. “Good luck explaining that on the next security review.”

As he turned to leave, you found yourself watching him a little longer than necessary—just like before. 

He really is quite attractive. That's it! There she is! I'm honestly not super sure where to go from here so if y'all have suggestions, let me know. If you have requests let me know as well! Lots of loveee <3333

[natertaterrr]

Buckethead - 1

Ok, so... This is a new story for approximately 22 people who want this. I hope you like it! (Stormtrooper x Reader)

Word Count: 3771

You walk around and tentatively start exploring the Death Star. It’s your first day of working as the new Death Star engineer, and it’s not time for your meeting with Tarkin quite yet. You take in the vastness of the moon-sized space station around you in pure amazement, noting every design choice and remarking its ingenuity. 

After around thirty minutes of exploring your new home, you make it to the meeting place and anxiously await for Tarkin to arrive. He arrives with a certain air around him. A certain pissed off air. “Welcome,” he starts sarcastically, “As our new engineer you will be joining the design team for our TIE fighters. You will be on-call, so to say, all of the time. If you are needed, you will be working. Now, seeing as I’m very busy, I can not show you our facilities; so, I have enlisted the assistance of NJ-724. He will show you where you will be living and working for the foreseeable future. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” you replied hesitantly. 

“Alright, I’ll be off now. NJ-724! Show our new engineer around the facilities!” With that, Tarkin was off, and you were left alone with who you now know as NJ-724. 

“Follow me.” He said simply as he started walking away. You quickly catch up with him and follow him to the first location. “This is the research and development room where you’ll design new components for the Empire’s TIE fighters. This is where you’ll meet to discuss with the team.” He walks a bit further down a hall next to it and shows you your office. “Most of your actual work will be done here in your office.” Next, he marches toward a dining hall. “This is the mess hall where you will eat all of your meals. There’s not really much other than that, just…don’t cause any problems.” He immediately marches away again, with you hurriedly trailing behind him. You come upon an area labelled “Bunks” and he shows you to your new room. “Here’s your room. It has a bed, a bathroom, and a closet with uniforms provided.” 

You felt a little overwhelmed by all the new information, but quickly recovered and nodded your head. “Thank you, sir,” you say quickly while moving to open your door. He immediately walks away as you step inside your new room and think to yourself, “What an odd guy.” You look around the room and notice a pager on your nightstand. You pick it up and examine it carefully before clipping it to your belt. You don’t have any personal effects to unpack, so you immediately plop down on your new, surprisingly comfortable bed, taking everything in. After staring at the ceiling for a while, you sit up and go to the bathroom to take a shower. 

You quickly undress in your bathroom and throw your clothes in a pile in the corner before setting your pager on the counter and stepping into the shower. The hot water feels so good at the end of this long day, and you can’t help but sigh as you begin to relax a little. You think back on the day’s events, and your mind wanders to the stormtrooper who showed you around. “NJ-724, was it? Yes. That was definitely it. What a weird guy. He seemed so stiff. Are all of them like that?” You expect that kind of behavior from someone like Tarkin, but why was he so tense? You shook the thoughts away and finished your shower. After getting out, you were feeling lazy and opted to just go to bed nude.  

The next day, you got up and got dressed in your new uniform before heading off to the mess hall. Unfortunately, you got lost on your way and had no clue where you were…(y’all know what’s coming next, be so fr)

A stormtrooper was about to walk past you, but stopped. He tilted his head and asked, “Are you lost, y/n?” You assumed that since he knew your name, it was NJ-724. 

“Oh. Hello sir. And yes, I can’t find the mess hall.” You said, surprised by his speaking to you. 

“Don’t call me sir. Just call me J-7, it’s what most people call me anyway. Can I show you to the mess hall?” 

You respond, though caught off guard, “Yes, thanks!” with a bubbly sound to your voice. 

“Why do you sound so scared?” He asks plainly as he walks you toward the mess hall. 

“Oh. Um…I’m not sure, actually. You just didn’t seem like the type to offer help or a nickname like that, I guess.” You say hesitantly. “You’re very-” you hesitate for a moment, searching for the right word. "—formal. At least compared to what I expected."

J-7 lets out a short chuckle. "Formal, huh? Well, I suppose that’s what happens when you spend most of your time marching between orders." He pauses for a moment before glancing at you. "But…not everyone here is that rigid."

You tilt your head, intrigued. "Oh? What do you mean?"

J-7 slows his pace slightly, as if contemplating his response. "Let’s just say, some of us know how to have a little fun when we’re not being watched too closely. There are ways to make life on the Death Star a little less…stiff."

The idea surprises you. The Empire, Darth Vader more specifically, hardly seemed like the type of place where “fun” was allowed. "Like what?" you ask, curiosity sparking in your voice.

J-7 doesn’t answer immediately but he gestures ahead. "There’s the mess hall. Get some food, settle in. Maybe if you stick around long enough, you’ll figure it out."

You eye him skeptically, but there’s something almost playful in his tone—something you didn’t expect from a stormtrooper. 

You step into the mess hall, the hum of conversation filling the space as Imperial personnel go about their meals. The air carries the scent of standard-issue food—simple, functional, and probably lacking in excitement. Long metallic tables stretch across the room, occupied by engineers, officers, and stormtroopers, all absorbed in their own routines.

J-7 gestures toward the serving area. "Food’s over there. It’s nothing fancy, but it’ll keep you going."

You grab a tray and move through the line, selecting a meal that looks…adequate. As you turn to find a place to sit, you glance back at J-7, wondering if you should stick with him or find a seat alone.

J-7 watches you for a moment before casually nodding toward an open spot. "You’re new. Might be good to get to know some of the others." 

You decide to stick with J-7, figuring that having at least one familiar face on this massive space station might not be the worst idea. He leads you to a corner of the mess hall where a few stormtroopers are sitting, though the conversation between them seems more casual than what you expected from Imperial soldiers.

J-7 sits down, and you follow suit, setting your tray down as the others glance at you briefly. One of them—a trooper with a slightly scuffed helmet resting beside him—raises an eyebrow. "New recruit?" he asks.

"New engineer," J-7 corrects, nodding toward you. "Just got here yesterday."

The trooper hums in understanding before taking a bite of his meal. "Well, hope you like long hours and a pager that never stops buzzing."

"That…sounds reassuring," you say, picking at your food.

J-7 lets out a short laugh. "Don't listen to him—he’s just bitter about his own assignments. Your work is important. That means you get the occasional headache but not without its benefits."

You raise an eyebrow. "Benefits?"

J-7 doesn’t answer immediately, instead focusing on his food. One of the other troopers chimes in, a smirk on his face. "Let's just say the Death Star isn’t completely militaristic with strict rules. You stick around long enough, you’ll figure it out."

You get the sense that something is left unsaid, and as you glance at J-7, he seems to be quietly gauging your reaction. J-7 catches your look and lets out a small, amused sigh, shaking his head. "You’re really not gonna let that go, huh?" he mutters.

The trooper with the scuffed helmet chuckles. "Told you, newbies always wanna know the fun stuff."

J-7 leans back slightly, crossing his arms. "Look, all I’m saying is that not everything around here is as…sterile as the Empire likes to pretend it is. People find ways to have a little enjoyment, even in a place like this."

You narrow your eyes slightly, curiosity still nagging at you. "Like what?"

J-7 hesitates for a moment, then leans in just a little, keeping his voice low. "Let’s just say there are places on this station that aren’t exactly listed in the Imperial records. Places where people can let loose without someone breathing down their necks."

The idea is almost baffling—hidden pockets of freedom within the most imposing military installation in the galaxy? You glance around the mess hall, now wondering if some of the personnel around you knew about these places too.

Before you can ask more, another stormtrooper walks by, throwing a glance at J-7. "Hope you’re not corrupting the new guy already," he remarks, tone light but laced with amusement.

J-7 smirks. "I’m just making sure she knows a little more about life here."

The trooper snorts before walking off, leaving you even more intrigued.

You decide to let the mystery linger for now and focus on finishing your meal. The food is... well, functional. It does its job—keeping you fed without much excitement. As you eat, you listen to the casual chatter of the stormtroopers around you, catching snippets of jokes, lighthearted complaints, and the occasional mention of patrol schedules.

J-7 eats without much urgency, occasionally glancing at you as if measuring whether you’ll dig deeper into his vague hints or let them fade away. But for now, you choose to take things one step at a time. No need to rush into secrets on your second day aboard the Death Star. You’re not trying to die so soon. 

As you finish your meal, J-7 finally speaks up. "You gonna head to your office now? First real day on the job, right?"

You nod, wiping your hands. "Yeah. Time to see what designing for the Empire is really like."

J-7 smiles with just a hint of mischief that you don’t pick up on. "Well, good luck with that. And hey, maybe I'll catch you around later."

Something about his tone suggests he knows more than he’s letting on. But for now, it’s time to see what your work entails.

You decide to head straight to your office, eager to start your first official day as an engineer aboard the Death Star. The corridors feel just as vast and intimidating as they did yesterday, but now, there's a sense of purpose in your steps. You're here to work—to design, to innovate, and, perhaps, to uncover more of the hidden layers of this place.

As you arrive, the door slides open with a mechanical hiss, revealing the stark, efficient workspace ahead. A terminal sits on your desk, already displaying preliminary schematics for a new TIE fighter model. Papers detailing technical specifications and past designs are neatly arranged to one side, waiting for your review.

Just as you're settling into your chair, your pager buzzes.

A message flashes across the screen: "Meeting in R&D. Immediate attendance required."

Well, looks like there's no easing into the job. Time to see what your first project entails.

You waste no time and head straight to the R&D department. As you step inside, you find yourself in a large, sterile room filled with high-tech workstations, holo-projectors displaying schematics, and engineers deep in discussion. A few stormtroopers stand nearby, seemingly monitoring the proceedings, while an officer with sharp eyes and an air of authority waits at the center of it all.

"Ah, the new engineer," he says, eyeing you critically. "You're just in time. We're reviewing a major flaw discovered in the latest TIE fighter prototype, and I expect your full attention."

You nod, slipping into a seat at the table as a holo-projection flickers to life. The display showcases a detailed breakdown of the current model’s weaknesses—a structural issue in the wing supports causing unexpected stress fractures.

"We need solutions," the officer continues, his tone clipped. "Lord Vader expects efficiency, and we will deliver."

You glance at the schematics, analyzing the problem. Already, ideas are forming in your mind.

You decide to take a moment and listen as the other engineers discuss possible solutions to the structural flaw. Some propose reinforcing the wing supports with additional plating, while others suggest redistributing the stress load through internal adjustments to the framework.

One engineer speaks up, pointing to the holo-display. "If we simply add more material, we’ll increase the overall weight, potentially affecting speed and maneuverability. We need something more efficient."

Another chimes in, gesturing toward a schematic. "What if we adjusted the support angles? If we shift them slightly, the stress points could be redistributed without compromising the design’s integrity."

The officer overseeing the discussion narrows his eyes. "That could work, but any modification must be tested rigorously. We cannot afford another failure in the field."

You absorb everything, analyzing the trade-offs and challenges.

You take a deep breath, studying the schematics carefully before speaking up.

"What if we adjusted the internal framework instead of just reinforcing the wings?" you suggest. "If we integrate a lightweight alloy with high tensile strength into the core structure, it could redistribute the stress without adding too much weight. Something like a composite material—maybe a durasteel-carbon weave."

The other engineers exchange glances, considering your idea. One of them nods thoughtfully. "That could work—durasteel is strong but dense, so a composite mix might balance out the weight issue."

Another engineer pulls up data on similar materials used in past designs. "We’d need to run simulations, but if we can find the right balance, it could solve the issue without compromising maneuverability."

The officer watches the exchange, then nods. "Run the calculations. If the numbers check out, we’ll move to prototype testing."

You feel a small rush of satisfaction—your first real contribution. J-7 was right; the work here was demanding, but it had its moments.

As the team begins simulations, the officer turns to you. "Since you’re new, I want you to oversee some of the testing process. Make sure your proposal holds up."

“Yes, sir.” You decide to take a moment to prepare before heading to the testing lab. This is your first real assignment, and while your idea seemed promising, you know that execution is everything.

You review the preliminary calculations, double-checking material properties and weight distribution adjustments. If the composite mix works as expected, it should balance structural integrity without overburdening the fighter’s agility. You jot down a few notes, considering potential pitfalls—unexpected stress points, material fatigue over time, and the ever-present demand for cost efficiency within the Empire’s budget constraints.

After gathering your thoughts, you straighten up, taking a deep breath. Time to make a solid first impression.

With that, you step out of your office and make your way toward the testing lab, ready to prove your design concept.

You step into the testing lab quietly, choosing to observe the process before getting directly involved. Engineers and technicians bustle around, adjusting equipment and preparing the prototype for stress testing. The sleek TIE fighter frame, modified with the proposed composite material, stands under the harsh fluorescent lighting, ready for analysis.

A technician runs a scan on the structure, displaying heat maps and stress points on a nearby monitor. You watch as the simulated forces push against the wings, assessing whether the material holds up under high-intensity maneuvers.

One of the engineers mutters something under his breath. "If this doesn’t hold, we’ll have to go back to reinforcing the frame."

The results begin to load—a visual of stress distribution across the frame. So far, the structure is holding better than previous versions, but a few minor weak points are emerging. Nothing catastrophic, but something worth addressing.

You take mental notes, observing how the team reacts. Some nod in approval at the early signs of success, while others prepare for additional tests. Now is your chance to step in and contribute.

You clear your throat and step forward, catching the attention of the team. "The material is holding up better than previous designs, but those emerging weak points could become a problem under extreme maneuvers," you say, gesturing toward the monitor. "If we adjust the layering in those specific areas—perhaps adding a slight reinforcement without compromising weight—we might be able to distribute the stress more effectively."

One of the engineers nods, pulling up additional schematics. "You’re onto something. If we refine the weave pattern, we could strengthen those points without drastically altering the overall composition."

The lead technician adds, "I’ll run a secondary stress test with those adjustments in mind. If it checks out, we can move toward real-flight simulations."

The officer overseeing the test studies the data, then turns to you. "Impressive analysis. Keep refining the details—we’ll need a full report by the end of the cycle."

You nod, feeling a sense of accomplishment. Your suggestions are making an impact, and you’re quickly proving your worth as part of the engineering team.

As the next phase of testing begins, a stormtrooper you somehow recognise as J-7 unexpectedly appears at the doorway, observing from the sidelines. 

You glance briefly toward J-7, offering a quick nod and a bright smile of acknowledgment before turning your attention back to the testing process. There's a job to do, and you're determined to see it through.

The engineers continue refining the adjustments based on your input, running updated simulations to test stress points in the new composite layering. As data streams onto the monitors, you track every change, every anomaly, ensuring the modifications hold under extreme conditions.

From the corner of your eye, J-7 watches with interest. He leans casually against the doorway, arms crossed, as if assessing your performance.

The lead technician turns to you. "The numbers are solid and within expected parameters," he continues, tapping the screen to highlight key data points. "If we maintain this trajectory, the new composite should exceed durability benchmarks."

You study the readouts, mentally running calculations against prior results. A small frown tugs at your lips—there's something off, a minor fluctuation in the stress tolerances that doesn't align with projected outcomes. It's subtle, but noticeable enough that your instincts tell you not to dismiss it.

J-7 shifts slightly, his stance relaxed but his gaze sharp. "You see something?" he asks, tone neutral yet laced with curiosity.

You nod, fingers trailing over the screen as you pinpoint the anomaly. "This variance," you say. "It shouldn't be here. Not at this stage."

The lead technician peers closer, pulling up additional diagnostics. "You're right," he murmurs. "If left unchecked, it could compromise structural integrity long-term."

The room falls into a brief silence as adjustments are considered. Then J-7 straightens, pushing off the doorway. "Run another set of simulations," he instructs. "We'll isolate the issue before moving forward."

You exhale, satisfied but still vigilant. There's always more to uncover, more to refine—but that’s the job, and you’re not one to back down from a challenge.

ou watch the updated simulations run, tracking every adjustment with sharp focus. The anomaly remains slight, but you know better than to ignore a potential weakness.

"The variance is consistent," the lead technician notes, frowning at the data stream. "It's subtle, but under sustained pressure, it could escalate."

J-7 folds his arms, considering the results. "We need a countermeasure. Something that mitigates the stress without disrupting the composite layering."

Ideas whirl through your mind. Reinforcing the problem areas directly might work—but you risk compromising the delicate weight balance of the fighter. A more strategic solution is necessary.

"What if we adjust the molecular structure of the composite itself?" you suggest. "A dynamic reinforcement that responds to force instead of static layering. Something akin to an adaptive weave—a material that strengthens at critical pressure points but remains lightweight otherwise."

The technician's eyes flicker with interest. "A reactive framework? That could distribute impact more efficiently, reducing stress fluctuations over time."

As the engineers set to work, the officer overseeing the tests steps closer, watching you with measured appraisal. "You're proving yourself useful," he admits. "Lord Vader appreciates efficiency. Continue delivering results, and you may find yourself in more significant projects soon."

A chill runs down your spine at the mention of Vader. More responsibility, more pressure—but also an undeniable opportunity.

J-7 smiles slightly as he watches the exchange. "Seems you've made an impression."

You offer a short nod, suppressing any lingering nerves. Whatever comes next, you’re ready.

The feasibility analysis runs in the background as discussions swirl around potential modifications. Engineers fine-tune simulations, testing how the adaptive weave might perform under extreme conditions. The concept is promising—if implemented correctly, it could revolutionize starfighter durability.

J-7 steps up beside you, watching as stress-test data populates the screen. “If this holds, we’re looking at a fundamental shift in design strategy.” His tone is thoughtful, but there's a glint of intrigue in his eyes. “Imperial efficiency demands improvements like this.”

You study the numbers, running quick calculations in your mind. "It's holding, but reinforcement integration will be critical. If we scale it up too aggressively, maneuverability could suffer."

The lead technician nods. "We need to strike the perfect balance." He pulls up a 3D model of the modified structure. "If we adjust the density distribution here—" he highlights a section of the wing supports, "—we can ensure stability without compromising responsiveness."

The officer overseeing the process steps forward, analyzing the projections. He turns to you. "You initiated this concept. How confident are you in its success?"

The weight of expectation presses down. You know the risks—but you also see the potential.

"It’s viable," you assert. "We need controlled prototype testing, but structurally, the adaptive weave presents an efficient solution."

J-7 exchanges a glance with the officer. The older man nods. "Begin flight trials. I want actionable results before we move toward full-scale implementation."

With that, the pace in the lab shifts—engineers mobilize, preparing for the next phase. You take a deep breath. The scrutiny is intense, but you're proving yourself.

J-7 lingers a moment before speaking, voice low enough that only you hear. "You keep delivering like this, and you won’t just be an engineer—you’ll be indispensable."

You smile slightly, letting the confidence settle in. No pressure, right?

This is it for Part 1!!!!! I hope you're hooked and I'm sorry about any shit writing! Lots of love, my lovelies!!!! <333