#Marshal Commander Neyo x reader

[vodika-vibes]

Hello! May I please have a Ruby for Commander Blackout or Neyo (whomever's the grumpiest lol) x female reader scenario set in Winter where he keeps hearing about her from a lot of the the shinnies and his vod gushing about how lovely and wonderful she is and it pisses him off for some reason/or he just gets sick of hearing it; until he meets her himself and then he realizes immediately what they mean and finds himself swiftly falling deeply and passionately in love with her because there's just something so bright, warm and alluring about her and he just wants her for himself. Feel free to either make it steamy/smutty or not. I'm just happy with him being super passionate with his attraction and pursuit of her and she reciprocates? And maybe they kiss? But just go with whatever inspires you the most; I know it's gonna be great whatever it is! Please and thank either way! \>v</

Brighter Than The Sun

Summary: The new IT girl at the base Neyo is Marshal Commander of is a thorn in his side, and he hasn’t met her yet. If he has to listen to one more person sing her praises, he’s not going to be responsible for what happens.

Pairing: Commander Neyo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1200

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Hihi! I decided to go with Neyo because I love him! I also, for the first time, went over my word limit. Only by 200 words, but still. Anyway! I hope you like it!

Neyo is not in a spectacular mood.

He woke up in a foul mood, largely due to the sheer amount of snow falling from the sky. And it only became worse when he went to check what was on the schedule for the day only to see that his datapad wasn’t working.

And then he went to the mess hall for some caf, and had to listen to a group of shinies sing the praises of the newest civvie who came to the base. They weren’t saying anything he hasn’t heard before: she’s stunning, with a body to die for, and a smile that feels like the summer sun-

Honestly, if it wasn’t for the sheer amount of paperwork it would take, he’d seriously consider stunning them and throwing them in the brig for being sheer annoyances.

Needless to say, Neyo was not in the finest of moods when his General came over to find out why he was glaring at his datapad.

And her suggestion of taking it to IT to have them take a look at it was not appreciated.

Still, Neyo is realistic. He can’t fix it, and none of his vod can fix it, which is why the base has an IT department in the first place. So he finishes his caf, and the breakfast that he’s forcing himself to eat, and he makes the long walk through the base to the IT department.

There’s only one person in the room when he arrives.

The new girl.

She’s clad in long pants and a vibrant yellow shirt that reminds him of Bly’s tattoos, and she’s standing on a desk while her arm is buried in the room’s heater.

Now that he’s paying attention to it, it is freezing in here.

He clears his throat, and the woman pauses, before she twists slightly on the table to see who’s there. She blinks at him, and then flashes a bright smile, “Marshal Commander Neyo, yes?”

He arches a single brow, “In the flesh.”

“Oh, wonderful! I’ve been hoping to-oh, hold on-” There’s the sound of something hitting something and then she rips her arm out of the heater and shakes her hand out, “Ah, well. I’ll have to try and fix it later.” She mumbles, and then she hops down from the table, and hurries over to him, a blinding smile on her face, “I’ve been hoping to meet you, but you’re a hard man to catch!”

Neyo blinks at her, stunned.

Now that he’s met her, he can understand what his brothers meant. She is stunning. And now he can’t help but think that the way his brothers talk about her is grossly inappropriate.

“Well, I’m here now.” Neyo finally says, “My datapad isn’t working.”

She holds her hand out, even her nails are painted yellow with little white flowers on them. She’s karking adorable. “May I?”

“That's why I’m here.” He presses the datapad into her hand and he watches as she moves to sit at a table overflowing with flimsy. “Are you working alone today?”

“Oh. I’m the only one who works in IT.” She replies, “The previous guy who had my position quit.”

“I…see.” Neyo pokes around the room, there are parts of the room that are very neat, but the majority of the room looks like there was an explosion. “And the heater?”

“Broken.”

“...it’s freezing outside.”

“Well. Yes.” She admits, “But I have a jacket,” She gestures to a winter jacket lying on a table nearby, “I took it off to work on the heater.”

“That’s not your job-?”

She looks up, “Um…well, apparently this base has a manning issue? Maintenance quit too.” She tilts her head, and her hair shifts enough to see that her earrings are little white flowers too. “Did you not know?”

“I don’t generally handle civilian employees.” Neyo replies. 

“Oh, that makes sense.” She messes with his datapad for a moment, “Um…you need a new datapad.” She smiles at him, “If you give me a couple of hours, I’ll get the new one for you by the end of the day.”

“Thanks.” Neyo pauses, “I’ll get one of my brothers to come and fix your heater. Can’t have our IT girl turning into an icicle.”

She flashes a blinding smile in his direction, and Neyo averts his gaze. She has no business being so pretty.

It’s the beginning of a slightly odd friendship.

Neyo finds himself in her office more and more often, it’s quiet, and his presence keeps even the most pushy of his brothers from trying to pressure her into a date. And she is good company, warm and welcoming.

It doesn’t take long before Neyo finds himself yearning for her. 

It’s almost two months later, in the middle of the worst snowstorm that he’s ever seen, when Neyo gets the chance to make a change to their relationship. He’s sitting at a free desk in her office, his feet kicked up on “his” desk, while she’s working on formatting a datapad at her desk when the lights flicker, and then cut out.

Neyo pauses and glances at the lights, and then sighs when he hears the generator kick on. The heat comes back, but the only lights that come on are the emergency lights.

“I guess the storm won,” She jokes with a quiet laugh as she sets the datapad down.

“Guess so.” Neyo tosses his datapad on the desk and leans back to look at her, “No point in even bothering to work now-” He grumbles.

“Well, you deserve a break.” She replies, and Neyo glances at her.

“You work just as hard as I do.” He drops his feet to the ground and pushes to his feet.

“Well…yes. That’s true.” She brushes some of her hair out of her face, “But, well, let’s be honest. It’s not like I can hang out with anyone other than you. Your brothers tend to be kind of…weird, when I’m around.”

“And I’m not?”

“You’ve never made me feel like a walking steak next to a starving man-” She replies, “Not that they’ve ever done anything inappropriate, before you fly off the handle. I can manage a few uncomfortable looks.”

Neyo sighs, “I hoped that they would stop.”

“It’s fine, really. I’ve been dealing with looks like that since I was nine.”

“...that’s sickening.”

“That’s being a woman.” She smiles at him, “Anyway, I guess I’ll just return to my quarters until the power comes back.” She pauses when Neyo’s hand comes out to cup her cheek, “...Commander?”

“Can I kiss you?”

He can feel her cheek heat under his hand, and he can’t stop himself from lightly stroking her cheek.

“You…want to kiss me?” She squeaks.

“I want a lot more than that, but, for now, I’ll stick with kissing. With your permission?”

“I…yes…please-”

His lips land against hers in a kiss that starts out soft and sweet and slowly grows more heated. 

And when he sits her on the edge of her desk, and moves to stand between her legs, with his lips moving to her neck to leave an obvious mark on her sensitive skin…well, he has to stake his claim somehow, right?

[dystopicjumpsuit]

because I’m a greedy ho, may I also request:

the hands. on the waist. oh my god.

with Neyo 👀🫣 do not perceive me pls

A/N: My friend. When I tell you that this awoke me out of a dead sleep in the middle of the night last night. I instantly bumped it to the top of the queue. Who has deadlines? NOT THIS SIMP! Please enjoy, and thank you for the ask!

Pairing: Commander Neyo x Reader (GN)

Rating: T but minors DNI as always

Wordcount: 1,556

Warnings and tags: fluff; minor injury; mention of blood; kissing; Neyo identifies as a warning

Summary: Marshal Commander Neyo takes his favorite medic for a ride. It’s not as sexy as it sounds… or is it?

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“Commander, we’ve lost contact with CT-2639 on the eastern perimeter.”

Marshal Commander Neyo swiveled his head, pulling away from your hands as you cleaned the cut on his forehead. Head wounds always bled like a mudscuffer, and this one had made an unbelievable mess, but it wasn’t severe enough to be life-threatening. You silently followed his movement, continuing to work as Neyo replied to the trooper.

“Send a BARC trooper to reinforce his position,” Neyo snapped, clearly irritated that the situation had not already been handled several rungs down the command ladder.

“They’re all out on scouting missions, sir,” the trooper said nervously.

Neyo nodded shortly, then turned back to you. “You, medic. Grab a medkit. You’re coming with me.”

It galled you slightly that he hadn’t bothered to learn your name, even though he had refused to allow any of the other medics in the 91st treat him since the first time you’d patched him up months ago, but given that he was one of the highest-ranking clones in the GAR, you weren’t about to call him out.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, quickly sealing the laceration with a spray bandage. Luckily, you were nearly finished treating him before the trooper had interrupted; otherwise, you had no doubt the commander would have simply shoved his bucket back onto his bloody head and jumped on a BARC speeder.

You shrugged the heavy medpack onto your back and followed Neyo to a BARC speeder with an auxiliary stretcher, watching him nervously, dread swirling in your gut.

“Well?” he asked, his tone clipped and impatient.

“I’m not speeder trained, sir. Sorry, sir,” you admitted, hoping that he wouldn’t reassign you to a different unit as he tended to do when his subordinates weren’t up to his frankly unrealistic standards.

His sigh was audible through his helmet’s speaker. “Climb on the back.”

“Sir?” you asked, startled. It was going to be one hell of a tight fit on a speeder designed for one.

“Secure the medpack to the bike and get the kriff on,” he growled. “We don’t have all day.”

“Yes, sir,” you said, snapping rigidly to attention.

You squeezed in behind him, trying very hard not to think about the way his hips pressed your thighs open, or the way his strong back felt against your chest as you wrapped your arms around him and hung on for dear life. The BARC speeder was unbelievably fast, and the landscape whizzed by in a dizzying blur as Neyo expertly navigated to CT-2639’s last known position. The bike turned abruptly, and you unconsciously tightened your arms harder around his torso. He dropped his hand briefly from the controls and settled it over yours, adjusting your position so you gripped his belt instead of the slick plastoid of his chestplate, then raised it back to the handlebar.

The bike slowed as you approached your destination, sweeping the terrain for any sign of the missing sentry. A flash of white and red plastoid at the bottom of a ravine drew Neyo’s eye.

“There.”

The speeder came to a halt, and you jumped off, grabbing the medpack and running to the downed trooper. He was unconscious, but his vitals were strong enough—for the moment—and Neyo helped you stabilize his spine as you carefully transferred and secured the patient to the stretcher on the side of the BARC.

“Bike isn’t powerful enough to carry three,” Neyo said as he mounted the speeder.

You nodded in understanding. “Yes, sir. I’ll make my way back on foot. He needs more care than I can give him here, and the base medics are equipped for it.”

“Negative. Hold position here. I’ll send someone to extract you.”

“Yes, sir.” You hesitated, and Neyo looked up at you, his helmet blocking his expression—not that you’d ever been particularly good at reading the commander’s cold, hard eyes. “What’s his name?”

Neyo was silent for a beat. “Boey.” His helmet tilted as he surveyed you from head to toe, as if suddenly realizing he was about to ditch you in an active war zone without armor or weapons. He handed you his DC-15 and climbed back onto the speeder. “Try not to get killed.”

Luckily, no battle droids appeared to ruin your day. You didn’t have to wait long before you heard the whine of a speeder approaching your position, but you were surprised to see not one, but two BARCs appear, and one of them was the commander himself. He drew to a halt, and you immediately surrendered the blaster to him. The other trooper looked back and forth between you and Neyo, but stayed silent.

“Boey?” you asked.

“He’ll make it,” Neyo replied, sliding forward to make space for you. “Get on.”

You obeyed, feeling very thankful that it was a short trip to the base as you once again straddled Neyo’s hips and tried to think unsexy thoughts. 

For kriff’s sake, he doesn’t even know my name. He’s kind of a dick. Why am I like this? Maybe when he reassigns me for not having achieved every single karking qualification in the GAR, I’ll end up in the 212th—if I’m going to have an unprofessional and inappropriate crush on a superior officer, Commander Cody seems like a nice, safe choice. Why do I always seem to go for the dicks? Some mysteries may never be solved.

Neyo started up the speeder and took off at top speed, leaving the other BARC trooper behind to secure the position. Unfortunately for your sanity, it seemed that Neyo had decided to inspect the entire perimeter, because there was no sign of the base anywhere, and the ride seemed interminable. As you gradually became accustomed to the speed of the bike, you tore your eyes away from the center of his back and began to look around at the landscape as you hurtled through the air.

It was actually a beautiful planet, when there wasn’t an active battle going on. Neyo drew the bike to a halt at the edge of a cliff with a stunning view out over the lush forest. He pulled off his helmet and set it on the bike, then dismounted, holding out his hand to assist you off the speeder.

When you met his eyes, they were as hard, cold, and unreadable as ever, and you couldn’t help wondering if he’d decided to just dropkick you off the cliff instead of bothering with the hassle of reassignment paperwork. Well, if this view was the last thing you ever saw, you couldn’t deny that it was breathtaking.

“What is this place?” you asked, unable to keep the awe out of your voice.

“Western perimeter. Cliff provides a natural defense.”

You looked down over the cliff and immediately regretted your decision, feeling dizzy and lightheaded at the distance to the bottom. You swayed dangerously, and Neyo grabbed you by the waist and pulled you back from the edge, your back colliding with his armored chest.

“Damn, that’s a… hell of a drop,” you managed to say. 

“Mm-hmm,” he agreed, his voice low and close to your ear.

You couldn’t resist asking, “Is this where you dispose of medics who don’t know how to ride speeders?” 

“What?” You felt his head turn as he observed you closely. “Why the kriff would I expect a medic to be BARC speeder certified? Do you know how much training BARC troopers have?”

You cleared your throat, trying not to dwell on how very, very close he was; or the deep, quiet rumble of his voice next to your ear; or the way his hands still rested on your waist. “So… you’re not going to reassign me?”

“I should,” he said quietly.

Your heart plummeted and your stomach twisted. You stared down at the ground in front of you, desperately trying to hide your embarrassment and disappointment.

One of his hands slid forward, flattening over your belly and pulling your body back against him. You felt the rough fabric of his glove move softly across your jaw as he tilted your face toward him with his other hand. His thumb brushed your lips, and then his hand drifted down to rest at the base of your throat, your pulse racing wildly beneath the gentle pressure.

“I shouldn’t—” His lips were so close to yours that you felt his breath ghost over your skin as he spoke. “—with a subordinate…”

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from his mouth. It was all you could see as you whispered, “You’re a marshal commander. Everyone is your subordinate.”

He drew a shallow breath, but made no move to close the tiny distance between you. The moment stretched out unbearably, until at last you could no longer resist the temptation. The tip of your tongue barely grazed the corner of his mouth before he snapped, crashing his lips into yours, clutching your body against his as though, if he only held you tightly enough, he could feel your warmth through the cold, unyielding plastoid of his armor. He kissed you with a passion that left you breathless and reeling, and when at last his lips parted from yours, he nuzzled your face gently as he whispered your name.

“Wait…” you breathed. “You know my name?”

For the first time since you’d met him, Neyo smiled. “I’ve always known.”

---

Want some spicy Neyo content? Check out my fics Everybody Hates Neyo Part 1 and Part 2!

[tcwmatchmakingau]

Everybody Hates Neyo Round 2: Matchmaking Boogaloo

A/N: This is a standalone sequel to “Everybody Hates Neyo,” (NSFW) by @dystopicjumpsuit​ (that’s me), and “The Blacklist,” by the brilliant @blueink-bluesoul​, who also generously let me borrow the character of Daria Trace (THANK YOU!). You don’t need to read those fics to understand this one, but you should because they’re great and they provide more background. I converted the Reader-insert into an OC because to be frank, she’s a piece of work, and I didn’t want to project that onto my readers. That said, as always, feel free to insert yourself into the story if you prefer; I haven’t described the OC beyond being a woman with hair long enough to pull.

Pairing: Commander Neyo x the Admiral (formerly Fem!Reader)

Rating: M | 18+ | Minors DNI

Wordcount: 6.5K (I know)

Warnings and tags: toxic, obsessive behavior; SO MUCH SMUT; hatefucking; rough sex; oral sex; PIV; hair pulling; biting; sex under the influence of alcohol; Neyo and the Admiral being absolute menaces to society

Disclaimer: Let me just put on my Auntie DJ hat for a second. *ahem* This is a work of fiction intended for entertainment only. Please do not take this as a guide to romance or a healthy relationship. Neyo and the Bad-miral are flawed characters in a wildly problematic relationship with more red flags than the Fire Nation. Enjoy!

Matchmaker extraordinaire Daria Trace was not accustomed to failure. When she applied her considerable intellect to a problem, she did not stop until she formulated a solution. Which was why her now-99% matchmaking success rate galled her so intensely. In all her years of matchmaking, she had never encountered a client so stubbornly determined to thwart her efforts as Marshal Commander Neyo. After twelve failed matches—one of which involved a call from an infuriated woman demanding to know “why the kriff you thought I was a good match for that sociopath”—she had reluctantly conceded defeat.

The blacklisting of Commander Neyo from the Right to Love Matchmaking Service spread like wildfire through the GAR gossip channels. Most of the troopers thought it was hilarious; others insisted that he’d finally gotten what he deserved. In fact, the only people who seemed to have any sympathy for Neyo were Commanders Bacara (to be expected) and Fox (somewhat less expected). And when Fox reached out directly to Daria and asked her, as a personal favor, to give Neyo one more chance, she agreed. One more chance, and ONLY to give her an opportunity to get that track record back up to a perfect 100%.

She glared irritably at Neyo’s file and clicked her stylus three times, twirling it between her fingers. The man was impossible. It was no wonder he’d turned to RTL for help finding a partner; any woman in her right mind would run in the opposite direction the minute she looked into those blank, frigid eyes. She shuddered involuntarily. Shark’s eyes. Daria had made a few discreet inquiries after he’d first signed up for the service, just to make sure she wasn’t about to set up some unsuspecting match with a serial murderer. Without fail, every single answer said the same thing: he was an ice-cold sonofabitch, but he had a strict code of honor, and no, he wasn’t a serial murderer. Probably.

She sighed and tossed his file to the side, to be revisited some other day. He was her most difficult client, but by no means was he the only problematic match candidate, and she had a small stack of what Blizzard liked to call The Hopeless Casefiles waiting for her to review. Just thinking about Neyo’s case had given her the beginnings of a spectacular tension headache, and she flipped through the folders quickly, looking for one that was a little less challenging. As she skimmed the stacks of flimsi, her eyes came to rest on one name: Reeda Wai’yen.

Now there’s a thought.

Daria was sure that Reeda was a lovely woman, despite all evidence to the contrary. She was just very… intense. Like Neyo, she had chewed through several potential matches, and the most frequent word that appeared in her failed matches’ post-date surveys was “intimidating,” followed closely by “terrifying.” Daria had sniffed disdainfully that those particular matches simply couldn’t handle a strong woman; however, she had to admit that after several months of trying, she had not been able to find a perfect match for Reeda. She pulled Neyo’s file and laid it out next to Reeda’s. As she compared their backgrounds and preferences, she became more and more convinced. This could work. Given their personalities, it might well be the best possible outcome for society at large if they were both removed from the dating pool. And if it happened to close out her two most annoying files, well. That would just be the cherry on top of her perfect-track-record sundae.

A timid knock sounded on Reeda’s office door.

“Come,” she called shortly.

Her assistant, Lissi, poked her head into the room. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but you’ve received a comm from RTL Matchmaking.”

Reeda cursed. She was up to her ass in flimsiwork, and she was meeting with the Senate Task Force on Galactic Security in ten minutes. She did not have time for this now. 

“Take care of it,” she ordered.

“Sir?” Lissi asked, her wide, startled eyes giving her a distinct resemblance to a terrified ash-rabbit. 

“Just take care of it,” Reeda repeated, tamping down her irritation at being questioned. “You know my schedule better than I do. Set it up. Somewhere nice—somewhere in the Federal district. I don’t have time to deal with traffic.”

Lissi blinked, nonplussed. “Don’t you want to see who you matched with?”

“No time,” Reeda said, rising to gather her materials for the meeting. “Just put it on my calendar, and I’ll be there.”

Three nights later, Reeda sat in the restaurant at the top of the tower where her penthouse was located, waiting for her mystery date to arrive. She had to commend Lissi’s efficiency in choosing the venue; the only traffic she’d had to endure was at the lift. And it was a lovely restaurant, she had to admit, with stunning views of the Coruscant cityscape. She had only eaten here once since she’d bought the flat, usually opting to have food delivered to her office at the Republic Center for Military Operations as she worked late into the night.

She had resisted the urge to bring her datapad with her to the restaurant, knowing that if she did, she would inevitably get sucked into work, but now she wished she’d taken a moment to review the file from RTL. It wasn’t that she thought all clone troopers were interchangeable; far from it. She had worked closely with them during the war, had fought by their sides, and she had found them to be brave, competent, and loyal. They were also notoriously attractive, but she was a professional, and she was their superior officer, and she had never allowed that line to become blurred—except on one memorable and highly regrettable occasion.

She had had no time for a personal life during the war, but now that it was over—well, to be honest, she still had no time for a personal life. Which was exactly why she had reached out to RTL; it was the perfect solution. She didn’t enjoy solitude. She wanted companionship, and maybe even something more. But she needed a partner who would understand the demands of her career, and nobody understood the burden of duty better than the clones. Now that she had separated from the GAR and returned to her post in her home planet’s military defense force, the rules regarding fraternization no longer applied to her.

She hadn’t bothered to review the file because she’d learned from the previous several failed dates that a promising file was no indicator of compatibility. Still, as she waited for her date, who was now seven minutes late, she wished she’d at least checked to see if he had any identifying marks or tattoos that would make him easier to spot. To be fair, though, the few clones present in the restaurant were already paired up with other diners.

Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t intended to skip lunch, but she’d had back-to-back meetings with the joint chiefs of the Core Worlds Defense Alliance and the senate appropriations committee, and one thing led to another. The service droid had delivered a basket of fresh, hot bread rolls, which she had heroically resisted for the first six minutes past the scheduled start of the date, but now her resolve began to crumble. If her mystery date didn’t have the basic courtesy to be on time, by the Force, he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if she ate all the bread before he arrived.

She buttered a roll and took a small bite. She couldn’t suppress the groan of relief at the buttery, yeasty goodness, and she quickly polished it off, then picked up another. She had just begun to butter her third role when the unmistakable voice of a clone spoke next to her.

“Admiral.”

She turned automatically, a smile just beginning to form on her lips, when she caught sight of a familiar set of numbers tattooed on a handsome, arrogant face.

“Oh, no,” she said with disgust. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Marshal Commander Neyo replied contemptuously. “I have as much right to be here as you do.”

“I’m on a date,” she snapped.

He looked pointedly at the empty chair across from her. “Looks like your date has a strong sense of self-preservation. Probably took one look at you and ran for their life.”

“He’s just a little late,” she said, tilting her jaw at a haughty angle to hide the flash of hurt at his words.

“That must kill you,” he said with a mirthless chuckle. “I remember the time you made a Jedi padawan cry for being three minutes behind schedule.”

“There were barely tears. Do. Not. Sit,” she gritted out as he made himself comfortable in the chair across from her. He picked up one of the remaining bread rolls and took a large bite, and she sighed. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“It just so happens, I am also on a date,” he said, mumbling around the bite of bread.

“Oh?” she wrinkled her nose at his table manners. “And who’s the unlucky lady?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some civvie named Reeda.”

Her hand tightened dangerously around her butter knife. Neyo’s eyes dropped to the blade, and he smirked.

“Disappointed?” he asked.

“You could say that,” she said, grinding her jaw. “I’m Reeda.”

He choked on his bite of bread and wheezed a bit, pounding his chest to clear his airway. Alas, he survived.

“What?” he sputtered.

“You didn’t even bother to find out my first name after you were inside me?” she demanded. Her sharp tone attracted attention from the surrounding diners, and she heard a few quiet titters from the tables around her, but she was too irate to care.

“You didn’t even bother to find out who’d be eating dinner with you?” he retorted.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t just as surprised as I am,” she snapped. “Didn’t you read the file?”

“I didn’t get a file, just a call.” He grunted. “Apparently, ‘beggars can’t be choosers,’ and I was lucky to get a match at all.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she mocked.

“Careful, Admiral. Don’t forget they matched you with me.”

“I would be insulted if it weren’t so obviously a mistake. I can’t say I’m impressed with their performance thus far.”

“For once, I agree with you,” he said. “You’d have to be a special kind of incompetent to think we were a good match.”

The service droid approached the table and asked, “May I take your order?”

“He’s not staying,” Reeda cut in.

“I’ll have the bantha filet,” Neyo replied, ignoring her. “Bloody.”

He turned to her and arched his brows. The droid waited expectantly.

“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,” she lied.

Neyo’s mouth twisted, and he huffed a breath through his nose. “The admiral will have the roast porg. And a bottle of Alderaanian red.”

The droid nodded and ambled away. Reeda glared at Neyo.

“I don’t eat meat, you presumptuous ass,” she said.

“Liar,” he said. “Unfortunately, the souls of the innocent weren’t on the menu, so I had to settle for your second-favorite meal.”

“At least you’re safe, since you obviously have no soul and you’re definitely not innocent,” she said in a pleasant tone.

Damn him for being right about the porg, though. How did he know?

The wine arrived, and he poured a generous glass for each of them. She didn’t toast; just downed half of it in a single swallow. Neyo sipped his and leaned back in his chair to observe her. His sleek, severe hair and the large tattoo on his cheek made him look menacing as hell, but it was his eyes that made brave men take a step back. She didn’t know how it was possible for his eyes to be that unnerving. Gods, why did he have to be so handsome? What a waste of perfectly good Fett genes to have a personality like that.

“Did you stay just to torment me?” she asked when the silence stretched beyond the limits of her endurance.

“And because I heard the filet was good,” he said affably. “What are you even doing on Coruscant? I thought you’d scuttled back to whatever hellhole spawned you.”

“Kuat,” she bit out from between clenched teeth. “I was assigned to work as our military liaison on Coruscant.”

“Couldn’t stand having you back on the planet?” he derided. “I don’t blame them.”

“I need to use the fresher,” she said, flinging her napkin down on the table with excessive force. “Feel free to die while I’m gone.”

She strode purposefully through the restaurant, her face set in a steely mask. She knew she was drawing attention from other patrons, but if she sat at that table and listened to Neyo needle her for one more second, she was either going to stab him or burst into tears. She pushed through the refresher doors and went to the sink, washing her hands just to give herself something to do. The face that stared back at her from the mirror was Admiral Wai’yen, not Reeda. Stern. Unyielding. Unaffected.

She swallowed, and her face crumpled. Tears of rage stung her eyes, and she ruthlessly wiped them away with her clenched fist. A soft noise at the door startled her, and she whirled to face the intruder. Horror flooded her. It was Neyo, and he’d caught her crying in the ladies’ room.

“What the kriff do you think you’re doing in here?” she demanded icily. “Get out.”

He stared at her for a moment, and then he locked the door. Stalking across the room, he cupped her jaw in his hands and tilted her face to get a closer look. She tried to pull away, to put her Admiral Wai’yen mask back in place, but then his thumb stroked softly next to her eye, wiping away the tear that had breached containment. She gasped involuntarily, and his lips collided with hers.

Reeda was so shocked that for a moment she went perfectly still, but then Neyo flicked his tongue across her lower lip, and her body remembered how to move. She thrust him away and stood back, glaring at him. His chest rose and fell quickly, and those cold eyes blazed with a dark and covetous fire. She raised a hand to her lips and felt the slickness left by his tongue. Something snapped inside her. She took two hasty steps forward, and she was in his arms again, his hands rough and dominating on her body as they consumed each other with a kiss that teetered on the edge of violence. 

Lips, tongues, teeth crashed together. He clasped her tightly against his hard, unyielding body, and unbidden, the memory of him deep inside her came flooding back. He gripped her ass and ground his rapidly stiffening cock against her. Her reaction was electric. She rolled her hips, nearly climbing him in desperation. He dropped his mouth to her neck and kissed her once, roughly, and then to her breast, yanking aside her dress as he closed his teeth on her soft skin. He picked her up by the waist and set her on the edge of the sink, dropping to his knees between her thighs, rucking up her dress around her hips, and then his mouth was on her.

He didn’t even bother removing her underwear, as though he couldn’t wait another millisecond to taste her. He licked and sucked on her through the fabric, his mouth working frantically. Her body jolted and trembled at the effort of staying upright, and then his tongue snaked past the lace and dipped into her, smooth and hot and wet. He let out a vicious growl and grabbed her hips, settling her thighs over his shoulders, and then he pulled her off the sink and thrust her against his face as his tongue speared over and over into her cunt. She yelped and scrambled to brace herself with her hands, her arms shaking with exertion.

She couldn’t come like this, but kriff, it was hot to feel Neyo throw her around with such ease, like she was his own personal toy. How many nights had she fucked herself to sleep to the memory of their first encounter? The way he’d lifted her bodily off the ground and thrust into her, supporting them both with those powerful thighs—it played on a loop in her head for months, long after the bite marks and bruises had faded.

His tongue slid out of her cunt and swirled around her clit, and her legs spasmed around his head. She couldn’t come like this. Could she? All the muscles in her body began to tense, and her pelvis began to rock rhythmically against his face. Shit, I’m going to come. No sooner had the thought formed than Neyo dropped her back onto the sink and pulled away from her.

“No!” she wailed. “You bastard, I was right there!”

He shot to his feet. “Shut. Up,” he bit out, and kissed her punishingly hard. “Do you want the whole Federal District to know what we’re doing?”

He pulled her head back to expose her throat, and he scraped his teeth across her delicate skin. She felt his other hand fumbling in between them. Within seconds, his cock was free and thrusting against the scrap of lace that still covered her. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him against her, determined to find the stimulation that she needed to reach completion.

“Get inside me,” she hissed.

“You aren’t calling the shots any more, Admiral,” he growled. “You don’t get to give commands.”

“I hate you,” she breathed. 

“And yet here you are, begging for my cock,” he said coldly. 

“I do not beg,” she said. “Ever.”

He released her hair and pried her legs away from himself, then took a step back. “You get nothing until you admit that you want me. I’ve waited a long time for this. I can keep waiting.”

“What the kark is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, sliding off the sink to stand in front of him.

“It means you give me what I want, or I walk out that door right now and you can figure your own shit out.”

Was this his twisted kriffing way of asking for consent? Because she was pretty sure she’d covered that when she all but ordered him to fuck her.

“Fine,” she said in a low voice. “I…” She nearly choked on the words, and Neyo’s intent gaze pinned her in place. “I want you.”

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a bruising kiss, then spun her around and bent her over the sink. He pulled up her dress, yanked down her panties, and thrust into her. She muffled a whimper at the intrusion and squeezed her eyes shut as she adjusted to the stretch. He wrapped his hands around her hair and jerked her head up.

“Open your eyes. I want you to watch,” he ordered.

She complied, shocked when she saw her own ravaged face in the mirror as Neyo pounded into her from behind. Her makeup was smeared, her hair was a wreck, her eyes were dilated with lust, and a sheen of sweat glistened across her skin. She flicked her gaze to stare at Neyo. His face was twisted into a scowl, and if she had any sense at all, she would have been frightened, but she was in too deep to care. His hard eyes met hers in the mirror, and his jaw tightened.

He released her hair and slid his arm around her body, between her breasts, to wrap around her throat, and he lifted her upright so he could whisper in her ear.

“Do you know what you did to me?” His voice was hoarse and anguished. “Every time I kissed someone, all I could taste was you. Every time I hooked up, all I could remember was this perfect fucking pussy.”

He pounded into her with bruising intensity, furiously working her clit with his free hand. Her head began to throb. This was so wrong. He couldn’t be saying what she thought she was hearing. She was confused from the lack of blood flowing to her brain.

“I got matched twelve different times, and not one of them was right, because not one of them was you,” he snarled. “You cursed me. You haunt me.”

The world began to darken around the edges as her eyes drifted closed, and he released her throat and forced her head to the side so she faced him.

“Look at me when you fucking come,” he ordered.

She gasped, and he clamped his hand down over her mouth to muffle her scream as he wrenched an orgasm from her body. He didn’t let up, chasing after her at a frenzied pace that rocked her entire body as she sobbed into his hand.

“Inside?” he asked roughly.

She nodded and whimpered as tears blurred her vision and spilled down her cheeks. He came with two brutal thrusts, and she felt the hot rush of his release deep inside. He shuddered against her hair as his cock softened and slipped out of her. At last, he loosened his grip and turned her to face him as he leaned against the wall for support. He wrapped her in his arms and stroked her hair as she rested her head against him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she sighed as she licked his neck, unable to resist the temptation of tasting his skin.

“I’m sure there’s an official list in my GAR file,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

Reeda cleaned up quickly while Neyo went back to their table so they wouldn’t be spotted leaving the refresher together. Her hairstyle was destroyed, so she hastily repinned it as well as she could, and then wiped off the mascara that smudged heavily beneath her eyes. A quick reapplication of lipstick, and she almost looked presentable—with the minor exception of her missing panties, which Neyo had silently retrieved from the refresher floor and tucked into his pocket while maintaining strong eye contact.

When she returned to the dining room, Neyo waylaid her with a ferocious expression. Force, what is he scugged about now?

“We’re leaving,” he said, taking her by the wrist and pulling her toward the exit. A few quiet murmurs whispered around the room as he dragged her behind him.

“What?” she asked, tugging her wrist to no avail. “Why?”

“The karking droid gave away our table,” he said.

“My deepest apologies, Admiral,” the droid said. “We can locate another table if you would care to wait.”

Reeda assessed the room quickly. Every table was occupied, and none of the diners were anywhere close to being ready to leave. Moreover, at least half of the customers were eyeing her and Neyo with expressions ranging from amusement to overt curiosity.

“No,” she said. “Have the food delivered to my flat.”

“Right away, sir,” the droid replied, waddling off to relay the order to the kitchen.

Neyo looked at her inquisitively. “Your flat?”

“I live in this building,” she said. “Come with me.”

She was keenly aware of the many sets of eyes that tracked their hasty exit, but before long, she led Neyo into the private, secure lift that opened directly into her penthouse. He stood silently next to her on the trip up, watching her with an inscrutable gaze. She tried not to give herself an opportunity to second-guess her decision to let him into her home. Strange, she thought, how this seemed more intimate than allowing him inside her body. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed another person into her home. 

The lift doors opened, and he followed her into the flat, pausing long enough to remove their shoes, then looking around curiously.

“Lived here long?”

“A few months,” she said. “I bought it when I found out I’d be stationed on Coruscant long-term.”

“It’s nice,” he said. “Very… clean.”

She laughed. “You mean sterile. I haven’t had time to do much decorating. I’m hardly here except to sleep, anyway.”

He nodded. “I thought I’d have more time for hobbies after the war ended, but now it’s just nonstop—”

“Red tape and committees,” she finished with a sympathetic grimace. He shot her a wry grin. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him smile before, and it did uncomfortable things to her brain. She tried not to think about it, instead asking, “What kind of hobbies? Aside from plotting my slow death, obviously.”

“Oh, you know,” he said vaguely. “Torturing small, adorable creatures; sharpening my vibroblade collection; collecting stamps; that sort of thing.”

She blinked. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

He regarded her steadily for a moment, eyes unreadable as ever. “You really think the worst of me, don’t you?”

She was taken aback. “I—”

Her reply was cut off by the chime of the door. The food had arrived, thank the Force, which gave her a moment to stop herself from blurting out her immediate thought: You’ve never given me any reason to think anything else.

Neyo was a competent soldier—brilliant, in fact. There was no question that he had one of the finest tactical and strategic minds in the GAR. But as a person? From the moment they’d met, he’d been antagonistic, sardonic, cold. He’d challenged her authority and provoked her in meetings. He’d only treated her with the barest semblance of civility in public, and in private—Well. They both knew how things went when they were alone.

The service droid rolled a cart into the dining room and began setting up the meal.

“Can I get you a drink?” she offered Neyo. “I don’t have any Alderaanian red, but I do have Cheedoan whiskey.”

“The good stuff,” he replied. “I’ll have a glass. Thanks.”

The droid finished setting up and shuffled out the front door as Reeda poured two generous glasses of whiskey at the wet bar.

“Ice?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, and when she turned around, she nearly dropped the glasses in surprise to find him standing close behind her. He locked his eyes on hers and never looked away as he took one of the glasses and drained it in a single swallow, then set it down with a decisive click on the counter. Her heart began to pound as he loomed over her. He traced his fingers from her elbow up to her wrist, and then he wrapped his hand around hers and raised her glass to her lips. 

The whiskey burned a fiery path across her tongue and down her throat. A few droplets escaped and splashed coldly on her chest. Neyo didn’t let up until she emptied the glass, and when she was done, he leaned down and sucked the liquor off her skin. His hands dropped to her hips and slid up her back as he located the zipper of her dress and dragged it down excruciatingly slowly, and all the while, his mouth moved across her skin. He slipped the straps down over her shoulders and let the dress fall to the floor, and then he kissed a path along the lacy edge of her bra.

“Thanks for the matched set,” he said, unhooking it and pulling it off.

“Those were expensive, asshole,” she said unsteadily.

He didn’t reply, but she knew she was never going to see that bra again. He kissed his way down her breast and captured her nipple in his mouth, abrading it lightly with his teeth. She jolted, and the empty glass slipped from her hand and smashed against the hard tiles of the floor. 

Neyo barely responded to the sound of shattering crystal. Reeda froze, keenly aware that the smallest movement could result in a bloody footful of glass. She stood utterly, helplessly still as he continued to explore her body with his teeth and lips and hands and tongue. He was thorough in his attentions, and something about being entirely at his mercy was wildly arousing. Her head spun as the whiskey began to work its insidious way through her bloodstream.

“I missed this perfume. What is it?” he murmured against the soft skin of her abdomen.

“I don’t wear any,” she said.

He nuzzled against her as though he could transfer her scent to his own skin. Without warning, he scooped her up and carried her out of the room, completely disregarding the risk to himself. But instead of dropping her as soon as they were clear of the broken glass as she expected, he asked, “Bedroom?”

“Left,” she said, and he strode across the flat and kicked open the door, to her intense irritation. “You gonna pay for the broken doorknob?”

He didn’t reply, just tossed her onto the bed and pounced on her as soon as she landed. He slid in between her thighs and gripped her hard as his mouth descended on hers, kissing her as though he were trying to devour her soul. He was still fully clothed, and she scrambled to pull off his shirt. He was completely unhelpful, too engrossed in her taste. She raked her nails across his skin as she yanked his shirt over his head, and he seized her lip in his teeth in revenge.

At last, the barrier of his shirt was gone, and she writhed against him, desperate to feel as much of his warm, smooth skin against her as possible. They clashed together, sinking nails and teeth into each other. At some point, Neyo got his trousers down enough to free his cock, and he shoved into her. His belt chafed harshly on her delicate skin as she wrapped her legs around him, urging him to go deeper, harder, faster. The sounds they made were unholy, primal: growls and grunts and screams of pain and ecstasy as they tore into each other with all the aggression that they had built over the years. 

She pulled his hair; he clawed her back. She slapped his face; he bit her shoulder. She snarled that she loathed him; he interlaced his fingers with hers and whispered how beautiful she was when she came apart beneath him. She thrust him away and kicked him across the bed; he pinned her down and fucked her until she sobbed and begged for more. At some point, she tasted blood, and she didn’t know or care whose it was. And when at last she lost count of how many times he’d brought her to orgasm, he curled his body around hers and traced his thumb softly over her features as she drifted to sleep.

“If I die while I’m inside you, it’s the closest I’ll ever get to heaven,” he whispered.

“Force, you say some kriffed up shit,” she grumbled.

Reeda awakened slowly, aware of something blissfully warm and soothing moving across her skin. She cracked her eyes open. Neyo was lying on top of her, dragging his tongue lazily over her body. He roamed along her curves, and it wasn’t until he paused at her bruised wrist that she realized what he was doing.

“Are you licking my wounds?” she breathed.

He didn’t answer, but his eyes met hers with an intensity that bordered on madness. Gods, everything about this was so fucked up, and she didn’t dare examine too closely why she found it so incredibly arousing. He moved slowly, meticulously, his tongue gliding softly over every centimeter of her body, until she felt like a bomb, ready to detonate at the slightest spark. She came before he ever reached her cunt, and again as he rocked gently inside her, his lips soft against her mouth, silent tears spilling from the corners of her eyes to course down her temples.

After, he guided her into the shower, and when her legs gave out, he held her upright as the hot water washed over them. Once he’d massaged her entire body with his strong, soapy hands, he dried her off and laid her back on the bed while he spread bacta across the damage he’d inflicted. It was disorienting to be cared for so thoroughly by the man who’d spent the better part of four years making her life hell. He didn’t speak, and she didn’t know what to say, so in the end, she simply watched him in silence.

When he finished with the bacta, he retrieved their dinner from the dining room. The food had long since gone cold, but after hours of intense physical activity, they were famished, and they ate it anyway, sharing bites and sipping whiskey straight from the decanter. Neyo sat with his back against the headboard, his long, strong legs bracketing Reeda as she leaned back against his broad chest.

“How did you know porg was my favorite?” she asked.

He shrugged. “They’re tiny, cute, and innocent. I just assumed you would enjoy extinguishing the life from them and consuming their remains.”

She laughed and snuggled closer to him. “Is that why you order your meat rare? Because it’s the next best thing to drinking straight from the source?”

“Finally, someone who understands,” he smirked. “Truthfully, I overheard you tell Admiral Coburn that porg was your favorite during a banquet at the strategy conference at Valor.”

She turned to stare up at him. “Neyo, that was two years ago. That was before we ever…”

“I know,” he said, burying his face in her hair and breathing deeply.

“Stalker,” she murmured.

He dropped his mouth to her neck, and she tilted her head back against his shoulder as his lips glided across her skin. 

“What does it say about you that you like it?” he whispered when he reached her ear.

He pulled her close, positioning himself between her and the bedroom door. From the proprietary way he held her, she knew it was a deliberate choice; any threat that came through that door would have to go through him before it got to her, and she had a feeling that there weren’t many beings in the galaxy that were brave or foolish enough to try.

Reeda jerked awake to a furious pounding at the front door. Neyo was already halfway out of the bedroom, stark naked and armed with a steak knife from their midnight dinner.

“Wait here,” he ordered, his voice hard and flat.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled on a bathrobe and grabbed a blaster from her nightstand. Neyo glared at her when she joined him, but didn’t bother yelling at her.

“Coruscant guard! Open up,” a modulated voice shouted harshly from outside the door.

Neyo glanced questioningly at her, and she shrugged, hiding the blaster behind her robe. He stepped out of view of the door, and she opened it to find none other than Marshal Commander Fox, flanked by two Corrie ARC troopers.

“Commander,” she greeted him, not bothering to conceal the surprise in her voice.

“Good to see you’re in one piece, Admiral,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, baffled.

“We received multiple calls about a disturbance at your address. Are you alone?”

Reeda felt a hot rush of blood wash over her face and neck. “I fail to see how that is any business of yours, Commander.”

“Sorry, sir, but it’s my duty to—” He stopped abruptly, and his visor shifted to a point behind her. 

“Isn’t this a little below your pay grade, Fox?” Neyo drawled close behind Reeda.

Fox’s visor turned back to Reeda, then to Neyo, and then back to Reeda again. The two ARC troopers appeared to be fascinated by the walls on either side of the front door. 

At last, Fox spoke. “I don’t send shinies to wake up admirals.”

Neyo’s hand slid possessively around the front of Reeda’s abdomen, and he pulled her against his nude body. Something large and solid prodded against her backside. Dank farrik, is he turned on right now? Sick bastard.

“Thank you for your concern,” she told Fox, “but everything is under control.”

“So I see,” Fox replied. “Still, you’ll need to keep the noise level down, or I’ll have no choice but to arrest you for disturbing the peace.”

Neyo reached forward silently and shut the door in Fox’s face, then he spun Reeda around, picked her up over his shoulder, and carried her back to the bedroom. The last thing Fox heard was the unmistakable sound of Neyo’s hand slapping her ass as Reeda shrieked with indignant laughter.

Republic Military HQ buzzed quietly with speculation the next morning when not one, but two of the most senior command staff called in sick for the first time in either of their careers. Rumors swirled: some were convinced a secret bioweapon had been released by Separatist holdouts; others maintained that the stress of dealing with politicians was beginning to take a toll; still others claimed that it was a coverup and that the marshal commander and the admiral had been taken hostage by pirates. It was whispered that Commander Fox had a particularly haunted expression that morning, and two of the Coruscant Guard ARC Troopers had contacted the legal department to update their wills. In the midst of all this, the beleaguered Lissi received a brusque order to inform RTL Matchmaking that the admiral no longer required their services.

Daria drained her third iced caf of the morning as she flicked through her holomessages. Buried amidst the intake forms and meeting invitations was an abrupt-bordering-on-rude note from Marshal Commander Neyo ordering her to close his file.

“Why do you look like the tooka that got the blue milk?” her fellow matchmaker Tarsi Renda asked as she passed Daria in the corridor.

“Oh, no reason,” Daria smiled. “The galaxy is back to normal, that’s all—and my track record is once again perfect.”

---

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[dystopicjumpsuit]

Everybody Hates Neyo

I was possessed by the devil himself and woke up at 4 o'clock in the morning to write this. I hope you're happy, @blueink-bluesoul. You did this to me.

Rating: Mature/18+/NSFT/Minors DNI

Pairing: Commander Neyo x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 928 words of filth

Summary: You really, really hate that asshole.

Warnings: nothing but SMUT; strong language; hatefucking; PIV; rough, unprotected sex; getting caught

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“Asshole!” you hiss as you storm into your office, tugging off your gloves and hurling them across the room. Rage simmers just below the surface as you pace back and forth, and when you hear the door slide open, you whirl to see it admit none other than the asshole in question.

“What the kark was that?” he snarls as he stalks toward you, his handsome, arrogant face contorted into a mask of fury.

“Get the hell out of my office,” you snap.

“Not until you explain where the kriff you get off thinking you can challenge my authority like that.” He crowds into your space, towering over you with a thunderous expression, but you refuse to back down.

“It may have escaped your notice, Commander,” you spit, “that you have no authority over me.”

His jaw works. “Watch your farking mouth, Admiral, or I’ll give it something better to do.”

“Do us all a favor and get fucked, Neyo.” Your voice is laced with venom.

His gaze drops to your lips, and you read his intention before he makes a move. Oh, shit. His eyes snap back up to yours, blazing with amber wrath. Fierfek, you decide, flinging caution to the wind. You grab him by the belt and yank him toward you, just as his hand flies up to grip your hair. Your lips crash together painfully, and he tastes better than he has any Force-forsaken right to.

Asshole.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, and you kriffing hate that he’s a good kisser. Is there no justice in the galaxy? Assholes should not be able to kiss like that! The thought irritates you all over again, and you bite down his lip, hard. He shoves you away, wrenching your head back with the hand that tangles in your hair. You grin up at him with savage triumph.

“That hurt,” he growls.

“Good,” you say.

“Last chance to walk away, little girl.”

Gods, what an asshole.

“You’re the worst,” you pant.

“And you want me,” he smirks.

“Fuck you.”

“If you insist.” Still holding your head firmly in place, just in case you decide to use your teeth again, he slides his free hand down the front of your uniform trousers, his thick fingers unerringly finding their way to your cunt and circling your clit roughly before sinking into you. “You’re soaking wet. I kriffing knew it.”

“You’re no-one to talk,” you grunt, reflecting on the unfairness that this unfuckable asshole can find your clit when it eludes so many perfectly nice partners. Of course, he is the marshal commander of the 91st Mobile Reconnaissance Corps; locating things is his specialty. A significant bulge tents the front of his uniform, and you grasp it roughly, grinding the palm of your hand against him. He pinches your clit in retaliation, and you growl at him, baring your teeth in an animalistic snarl.

You unbuckle each other’s belts with frantic urgency—he does it with only one hand, and it’s so kriffing hot, who gave this asshole the right to be so kriffing hot?—and shove down both sets of trousers. He grabs your thigh hard enough to bruise and jerks it up to his waist, and then he plunges into you. The sound you let out is inhuman, and he stills for an instant.

“Don’t fucking stop now,” you snap.

“Sir, yes, sir,” he says, thrusting hard into you, again and again. 

He’s strong as kark, and he fucks you with such aggression that he lifts your other foot off the floor, and you dangle helplessly in the air for a moment, impaled on his cock. It’s an undignified position; you’re an admiral of the Force-damned fleet, by the gods, and you aren’t about to let him take control so easily. You hook your foot on the back of his knee, and the two of you crash to the floor.

He lands with a grunt of pain. “I fucking hate you.”

“I hate you more,” you say, licking up the tattooed numbers on his face.

He rolls you over and pins you to the floor, his hips never slowing their punishing tempo, and he wrests open your uniform collar. You hear the unmistakable sound of fabric ripping, and you swear to the gods, if he ruined your jacket, you’re going to steal his favorite BARC trooper. 

And then that motherfucker bites your neck. You squeal with pain.

“That hurt?” he grits out.

“Ye—”

“I don’t care,” he snaps, and shit, fuck, oh gods—yes—

FUCK!

You come so hard your vision whites out. Your legs clamp around his waist, and you scream loudly enough that anyone passing through the corridor outside your office would have no doubt what you’re doing inside.

“Shit—” Neyo gasps brokenly. He tries to pull out, but he doesn’t make it in time, and he comes inside you, flooding your cunt with liquid heat.

Asshole. Good thing you have the implant, not that he fucking asked. Force, you hate him.

He collapses on top of you, driving all the air out of your lungs, and you tense up to shove him away, but then he slides his tongue languidly over your bruised neck, the soft heat soothing the pain and making your eyes drift closed.

“You have issues,” he whispers in your ear.

“Psychopath,” you whisper back.

A small flutter of movement in the corner of the room has you both snapping to alertness, and you whip your head around to see Commander Bacara rising from your desk chair.

“Well,” Bacara smirks. “That was entertaining.” 

---

Tagging:

@secondaryrealm @blueink-bluesoul @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69

[vodika-vibes]

Today's writing practice got away from me, lol.

Word count: 936

Pairing: Marshal Commander Neyo x Reader

Songs: None

As far as you’re aware, Marshal Commander Neyo has two emotions: angry and apathetic. Of course, you’ve never seen Marshal Commander Neyo in his apathetic mood. No. You are one of the lucky few who only ever sees him as angry.

You’re beginning to think that it’s personal, that Marshal Commander Neyo personally hates you.

Of course, you can’t think of any reason why. You’ve been nothing but polite to him and his brothers. 

You make a face, “What do you think pal?” You ask, lightly prodding your little droid, and you grin when he flops into your touch like a Tooka kitten.

Your droid trills a response, and you sigh, “I can’t ignore him. I have to at least be able to work with him.” The droid trills again, and you laugh, “No, I can’t stab him either. It’s rude.”

“And illegal.”

You yelp at the unexpected voice, and spin in your chair rapidly enough that you lose your balance and both you, and the chair, clatter to the floor. You push the chair off your legs and blink up at the man, a dark flush crossing your face when you recognize who it is. “Commander Neyo.”

He raises a single brow, and looks wholly unimpressed, “Graceful.”

Somehow your blush grows even darker, “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be down here with me!” You say defensively, “Or for anyone to be awake, for that matter.” You add as you carefully get back to your feet and right your chair.

He watches you, unmoving. “You skipped last meal.” He says as he folds his arms over his chest.

“I was busy,” You counter defensively, you’re always on the defensive with him. “I have ration bars in my quarters.” You add.

He scowls at you, “Those,” Commander Neyo says flatly, “Are not meals.”

You bristle, “It’s fine. I can probably stand to lose a few pounds anyway.”

His scowl deepens, and you wince. He definitely hates you.

“Was there something you needed, Commander?” You ask, trying to head off the scolding you’re about to get, “You came down here for a reason, right?”

Commander Neyo glowers at you, “You also skipped lunch.” He says as he takes a step closer, “I came down here because no one has seen you since breakfast.”

You blink at him, startled, “You were worried? About me?”

“Apparently with good reason,” Neyo snaps, “It’s nearly midnight and you’re down here, having only eaten one meal today. And don’t even think about joking about wanting to lose weight.” He adds sharply.

You continue to stare at him, wide eyed.

“Whoever told you that you need to lose weight either doesn’t have eyes,” He continues, uncaring about your silence, “Or they’re just trying to hurt you.”

“That…might actually be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” You say weakly, “And also the most you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t make it a big deal.” He says with a scowl.

“But it kind of is. I thought you hated me.” You reply blankly.

Something dark and forbidding crosses Commander Neyo’s face, “Who told you that?”

No one? Everyone? But, actually-

“One of the new guys. He said his name was Bolt.” You say honestly. 

The expression on Commander Neyo’s face becomes murderous, before going terrifyingly blank. RIP Bolt.

“I don’t hate you.” Neyo says, sounding very, very calm. You wonder if you need to message the General to put Bolt in protective custody. “The opposite, in fact.”

Wait. What?

You stare at him dumbfounded, and he sighs. He runs his fingers through his hair, a nervous tick you’ve never seen Neyo perform before, “Right. This is dumb.” He says suddenly. 

And then-

His hands are cupping your face and his lips are pressed firmly against your own. And you freeze, because this is impossible-

He pulls away, though he’s still close enough that you can feel his breath against your skin. “That was inappropriate of me. It won’t happen again.” But he’s still so close, pinning you against your workbench, and his gaze is locked with your own.

You hesitate, only long enough to take a breath, before you wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down, crashing your lips against his in a much more passionate kiss. 

He presses himself firmly against you, the hard plastoid of his armor digging into you, and your hands slide from the back of his neck and into his hair, grabbing some of his hair to just try and ground yourself.

A ragged groan escapes his lips, and he pulls away to stare at you, slightly breathless, and a look of surprise on his face. A look that you shared. 

Carefully he reaches up and untangles your fingers from his hair, carefully threading your fingers with his. You watch, eyes wide, as he presses his forehead against yours and visibly pulls himself back together. It’s impressive, especially since you feel like you have bees under your skin.

His gaze locks with yours, “You need to get food, and go to bed.” 

“I…but…” That’s not at all what you want to do right now.

Neyo laughs softly, and it sends shivers down your spine, “I know. Later. I promise.” He reaches behind you, and very gently picks up your droid, before setting him in your arms. “Good night, cyare.”

“Um…good night.” You feel his lips, petal soft, against your temple, and then he’s gone as quickly and quietly as he arrived.

Your droid trills in your arms, bumping you with his head. “Looks like I was wrong, pal.” You say as you muffle a delighted giggle.

[vodika-vibes]

Worth Fighting For

Summary: After battling illness your childhood, your parents have become suffocating, not even allowing you to attend university due to their anxiety. So you make the extreme decision to enlist in the Mandalorian army.

Pairing: Marshal Commander Neyo x Reader

Word Count: 3786

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023

A/N: The most recent of my Magic and Knights AU. I really, really need to figure out how speeders work in this setting. Magic? Magic Technology? I dunno. I'll figure it out I'm sure.

Divider by Saradika

When you were a child, you were prone to illness. You once spent three months in the hospital while the healers tried to determine what was wrong with you and why you were so sick all of the time. 

There was a long period of time where your parents believed that they were going to have to bury you.

Luckily, that wasn’t the case. Eventually your healer team found a cocktail of medications and elixirs that sent your illness into remission, and, as you grew older, the illness went away completely. 

Until, by the time you were nine, you no longer had to visit your doctors multiple times a year, and could go yearly just like everyone else in your family.

Of course, the knowledge that you’re fine didn’t do anything to settle your parents' anxiety. They feared, so much, a relapse of your illness that they homeschooled you, and you were barred from any extracurricular activities. You had no friends, and the only people you were allowed to spend any time with were your own siblings and your cousins.

But, oh, you yearn.

You want to see the world. Want to go to the beach and camp by the ocean and watch the tides come in and go out. You want to make friends with witches and wizards and merfolk.

You want.

And that’s a problem for your parents.

You are now 18 years old, and you’ve not been for half of your life. And you’ve recently started looking at universities. And you’re excited. Excited to go out and see the world, to make friends, to experience new things.

But there’s one problem. Well. Two, really. And you call them mom and dad.

“It’s just,” Your dad nervously opens and closes the brochure for a college on the other side of the continent, “It’s so far away, baby. Wouldn’t you rather stay local? You can even stay at home-”

“Dad,”

“No, no. He has a point.” Your mother fusses as she picks through the stack of brochures from various universities, “It’s too far away. Baby, all of these universities are so far away. If you get sick-”

“I haven’t been sick in years, mom. I want to go!”

“Just…go where, sweetie?” Your dad asks.

“Anywhere that’s not here!” You blurt, “I love you, you’re great! But you’re suffocating me!”

Your mom sniffles, “You’re only saying those hurtful things because you’re young and you don’t understand the way the world works.”

“I’m saying it because I mean it!”

“Sweetie-”

“No! You always do this! You don’t listen!”

“Enough!” Your dad shouts, and then he takes a deep breath, “Enough.” He repeats, “We’re done talking about this. Go to your room. I’ll not have you make your mom cry.”

You sigh and your shoulders slump, “Fine.” You spin on your heels, and stalk out of the kitchen, but instead of going to your room, you go down into the basement where your older siblings have gathered.

You hear a whispered, “Act natural!” As you step into the carpeted room, and you raise an eyebrow.

Your older sister is staring, intently, at a vase that you’re pretty sure she hates. And your older twin brothers seem to be locked in a deep discussion about…ponies?

“...you heard all of that, didn’t you?” You ask.

“What?” Your sister asks, “Oh, you mean that chat between you and the rents? No. Nooo. Of course not.”

“You are an abysmal liar, Bell.”

She frowns, “I know.” Bella tosses the vase into a box where it, miraculously, doesn’t shatter, “We weren’t trying to eavesdrop, but you were all very…loud.”

“They’re not going to let you go, you know that right?” Zak, the older of your twin brothers, says quietly. “You’re going to be stuck here for your entire life.”

“I don’t want that though!” You exclaim as you drop onto the couch between the twins, and Jak, the younger brother, drapes his arm over your shoulder.

“We know that, kiddo.” Jak says quietly, “They’re just…afraid.”

“I know that. But they’re being ridiculous.” You drop your head on Jak’s shoulder, “I don’t want to spend my whole life here. I’m…lonely.”

Zak hesitates, and then he leans towards you, “Have you considered just…leaving?”

“Zak! You can’t tell her that!” Bella hisses, “Ignore him, baby. He’s full of nothing but bad ideas.” She says as she smacks the back of Zak’s head, “and hot air.” She adds scathingly.

“...right.” You reply, as a half formed idea starts brewing in the back of your mind.

“How about we play a game?” Jak offers, “Something to get your mind off of things. We have…monopoly?”

“We’re not allowed to play that after the last time,” You remind him with a small smile.

“Bella’s a cheater!” Zak shouts from where he’s standing on a chair.

“Cheater! You’re the one who refused to pay!” Bella shouts back, looking like she’s about to tackle Zak.

“Oh. Yeah.” Jak mutters.

You muffle a laugh as Jak jumps to his feet to try and stop the fight that’s brewing, though you’re pretty sure that he’s actually encouraging the fight based on some of the things he’s saying.

And for a little bit, you’re able to move your annoyance to the back of your mind.

But only for a little bit.

Because the moment you lay down for bed several hours later, after a dinner that was completely catered to you and what you like, your mind starts racing. 

You can’t get Zak’s suggestion out of your mind.

“Have you ever considered just…leaving?”

The short answer is yes, of course you have. Many times over the years since you were released from the hospital. The first time was when you were ten years old, and you even got so far as to buying a ticket to anywhere but here-

But you got scared, and you backed out. Where would you have gone? Who would you have turned to?

You roll onto your side and you reach into your bedside table. Hidden under a false bottom (made by your grandfather and magically protected by your grandmother when they realized that you have no privacy) is a small carved box.

And inside the box is your passport and a ticket, and every form of identification you might need to make an identity for yourself anywhere else.

Eight years ago, when you went to refund the ticket, the lady at the counter took one look at you, and made you an offer that you couldn’t refuse. Instead of refunding the ticket, she altered it. It can be used one time, at any point in time. 

You pick up the ticket and trail your fingers over the raised letters.

Ticket for one to Mandalore. One way.

You stare at the ticket and your passport for a long minute, and then you sit up. You shove the ticket into the passport, grab your box of paperwork, and swing your legs off the side of your bed.

You peel off your pajamas, and pull on some travel clothes, and then, from behind a false panel in your closet, you grab your bug-out bag and shove the box of paperwork to the bottom.

You take one more look around your room, grab your sneakers, and then open the bedroom window and climb out onto the roof. You shut the window quietly, and then pull on your shoes, and you drop from the roof to the backyard.

You have until noontime tomorrow before anyone will look for you.

It’s time enough.

It has to be.

With that thought in mind, you slip out the back gate of the garden and as soon as you’re on the street, you start running. The last carriage to Mandalore leaves at 11 pm. You have 45 minutes to get to the station, and onto the carriage before you’re SOL.

12 hours later, and grateful for the magic that makes long distance carriage travel faster than anything else, you hop off the carriage in Mandalore. You have money enough for a week in an inn, but you’re hoping it won’t come to that.

You hurry over to customs and you smile nervously at the red and white clad soldier checking the passports, “And your reason for visiting Mandalore?”

You lift your chin, “I want to enlist.”

He pauses and glances at you, and then lets out a quiet laugh, “Well, good luck with that. The nearest recruitment center is just to the left of the station.” He stamps your passport, and waves you off.

“Thank you,” You grab your bag, and your passport, and you hurry out of the station, following the directions the soldier gave you.

Once standing in front of the recruitment center, you take a deep, steadying breath and you push the door open. A large man steps out of the office, and he shoots you a dismissive look, “The Dance School is just down the street, ad.”

You straighten your spine and lift your chin, “I’m here to enlist.”

The man pauses and looks you over, “How old are you?”

“18.”

“Can you prove it?”

“I have all of my paperwork.” You reply.

The man shifts his weight slightly, and turns to regard you thoughtfully, “Do your parents know you’re here?”

“I’m old enough to enlist without their permission.” You counter.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“It’s the answer you’re getting,” You reply, “Sir.” You add belatedly.

A grin crosses his scarred features, “You know how to fight, kid?”

“I can learn.”

“Alright. Follow me. Let’s see where you fit in.” He pauses, “I’m Alpha-17, ARC Commander.”

You flash a razor sharp grin as you introduce yourself.

*********

Three months later, after three months of what you lovingly refer to as Living Hell, you are assigned to the 91st Mobile Recon Unit.

You’re the only person from your basic training who was assigned to the 91st, everyone else getting slotted to other battalions. When you question it, thinking that you were going to get slotted to the 104th, Alpha just smirks and tells you that Neyo has a complicated personality, and he deserves you.

“You the new recruit?” The man who approaches you is taller than you, with a tattoo under his left eye.

“Yes sir.” You reply. Your armor is still new and shiny, without any markings or paint on it, though you know you’ll earn your paint soon enough.

“Marshal Commander Neyo,” He introduces himself, “Do you even know how to use one of the mobile speeders?”

You meet his gaze evenly, “I did complete basic,” You retort, “Sir.” You add as almost an afterthought.

His eyebrows shoot up, “You’re going to be a problem, aren’t you, Private?”

“Commander Alpha-17 said that you deserve me,” You counter, “Sir.” You intentionally add belatedly.

He takes a deep breath, “Go find your fucking tent, private.”

“Yes sir.” You salute and hurry to your tent, a tent you share with five other women. It’s awkward at first though the six of you quickly form unlikely friendships. It’s made even more awkward from the fact that you’re the youngest person in the tent.

In fact, you’re the youngest person in the battalion by several years. 

In spite of that, you’re a hard worker, you learn fast, and you earn the respect of the other members of your battalion. Well, most of them. You’re fairly certain that the commander hates you.

Of course, you only think that because whenever you see him he’s glaring at you. And you think that he’s waiting for you to mess up in such a way that he can send you away.

But, well, you’ve always been stubborn.

******************

It’s been a month since you have been assigned to the 91st, and things move both quickly and painfully slowly.

But eventually orders come from up high and the battalion finds itself scrambling to do what they have been ordered to do.

Lieutenant Beam hurries over to you as you’re preparing your speeder for your orders, “There you are.” He pants out, “I have new orders for you.”

“Sir?”

“You’re being assigned to Commander Neyo for this operation.”

“What?”

“Those are the orders I was given. Go see what he needs you for.” Beam smiles apologetically and lightly taps the painted wolf print on your pauldron, “I know it’s not what you wanted, little hunter.”

“Well, orders are orders,” You reply as you stand and grab your helmet, from the seat of your speeder and hook it to your hip.

“That’s a spirit.” Beam offers a half wave and hurries off, while you hurry in the other direction. You slip into the white and burgundy tent that marked Commander Neyo’s war room, and you stand to the side as he continues giving orders to the other commanders.

Commander Neyo glances at you, but doesn’t directly speak to you until the other Commanders have left. “You’re with me today, an’edee.”

“So the lieutenant said,” You reply as you cross the tent over to him, “May I ask why?”

Neyo scowls, “I got a call from Alpha. He wants you for the ARC program.”

“...I’m flattered, but I’ve been a soldier for four months.” You point out.

“You’re clever and think on your feet. The ARCs need that.” Neyo replies, “But I’m not super inclined to let you go, an’edee. You’re a damned good recon spec. And I can and will fight Alpha for you.”

“And here I thought that you hated me.”

“I think you’re a pain in the ass,” Neyo replies, “Luckily for you, you’re far less irritating than some of the people I work with.”

“Huh.” You absently drum your fingers on your helmet, “So why am I with you then?”

“Easiest way for me to come up with a reason to not send you away is to keep you close.” Neyo pulls his helmet on, and you do the same, “We’ll be taking my speeder. You’re driving. Come over here.” You jog over to him and look down at the map spread out on the table, “The majority of the battalion is going to be doing recon on the southern ledge,” Neyo gestures to the point on the map, “We are coming from the opposite direction.”

“Do we think that Dooku and his army are in the ravine?” You ask.

“What do you think?” Neyo asks in return.

“...I wouldn’t. It’s too risky. Too much of a chance to get flanked.” You decide thoughtfully, “I would put a token force in the ravine, and then put the majority of my forces somewhere else.”

“I agree, an’edee.” He glances at you, “It’s shit like that is why Alpha wants you for the ARCs.”

You huff, and shake your head, “Come on. That’s just common sense.”

“You’d be surprised at how much common sense is lacking in the military,” Neyo replies, “Come on. We need to get to work.”

He leads you out of the tent and over to his speeder. You hop up into the driver's seat and start the speeder. Neyo gets on behind you and makes sure his weapons are secure. 

“You’re good to go, an’edee.” He says to you through the comm in your helmet. You nod once, and start moving. “Don’t forget, we’re going north.”

“I remember,” You reply, as you veer the speeder towards the north.

Later, you wouldn’t remember, exactly, the events that came 45 minutes after you left the tent. 

You remember seeing something while you were piloting that sent off every single warning sign you could think of. You remembered sharply veering to the left, and flinging your weight to the left.

You remember a click that made your stomach drop, and you remember Neyo hooking his arm around you and pulling you off the speeder, putting the speeder between you and the explosive. And you remember him twisting the pair of you so he was between you and the speeder.

You remember the concussive blast of the explosion, and that’s it. 

*******

You wake with a groan of pain. 

The first thing you do is reach up and pull your helmet off, it feels too tight which suggests that it took some damage. You drop it to the side, and then look over Neyo, who’s sprawled over your chest.

Carefully, very carefully, you reach out and remove his helmet to check his breathing, and you sigh in relief when you see that he’s alive. With that done, you roll him off of you, and grab your light orb from your hip and light it.

You look around, and then you look up, and you hum thoughtfully. It looks like the explosion opened a hole in the ground, and sent you, and your commander, tumbling into a cave. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the armor, you’d both probably be dead.

And the fall explains the massive damage to your helmet. You carefully decide to stand, and you groan as your armor pinches tightly. You strip off all of your armor, and set them to the side, they were going to be more of a hindrance than a help at the moment anyway, and you take several steps away from Neyo to try and figure out a way out.

You stop, though, when he groans. 

“Commander?” you move to his side and kneel, holding the light aloft, “Are you awake?”

“An’edee, get the light out of my eyes,” Neyo says as he squints at you, and you sheepishly lower the light, “Better, what happened?”

“It looks like the explosion opened a hole in the ground and we fell through.” You explain.

He looks you over, “Where’s your armor?”

“Had to take it off, it was crushing me.” You jab your thumb towards the pile of armor, “I didn’t break anything when I landed, fortunately.”

Neyo sits up, and quickly removes his own armor, before sighing in relief, “You’re covered in bruises, an’edee.”

“So are you.” You point out, “Do you think you can stand?”

“Yeah.” He gets to his feet with a groan, “These are going to hurt tomorrow.”

“They hurt now,” You say dryly.

“They’ll hurt more tomorrow.” Neyo corrects with a roll of his eyes.

“Well then, we’d better find a way out and to a medic before we have to deal with that.” You say with a painful shrug.

“Hm.” Neyo’s gaze drifts down your body, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in just your blacks before.”

“It’s not like I walked around camp without my armor,” You reply, “None of us do.” You shoot him a look, “You try being one of twenty women in a battalion, and walking around in skin tight material.”

Neyo doesn’t say anything for a moment, “I suppose you have a point. It is very distracting.”

“...so sorry, that my body is a distraction.” You say sarcastically.

“If we hadn’t just been blown up, an’edee, I wouldn’t mind the distraction.” Neyo counters with a small smirk.

“You…I don’t think you’re allowed to say stuff like that to me.”

“Does it bother you?”

“I didn’t say that,” You say, “Do you hear that?”

He pauses, and tilts his head, “Sounds like running water. We were pretty close to the ravine.”

“Which means there should be a way out.” You finish with a grin.

Thirty minutes later, you find a cave entrance…and a large number of the 91st. The pair of you are ushered back to camp, and banished to the medical tent, where you’re slathered in bacta, and then ordered to rest.

You’re still awake though, laying on your back and trying to ignore the throbbing of your back, arms, and legs, and really everything. It’s not working. The more you ignore it the more they hurt.

“You still awake, an’edee?” Neyo asks, his voice quiet.

“Yeah. I fucking hurt.”

He releases a laugh, “Yeah, same.” Neyo is quiet for a moment, “You’re not Mandalorian, right?”

“Alpha promised me Mandalorian citizenship as soon as I finished my first deployment.” You reply, “But no. I’m Alderaanian.”

“How does a girl from Alderaan find herself enlisted in the Mandalorian army?” Neyo asks.

“My parents.”

“What? They made you?”

You laugh, “Nah. They were stupidly overprotective. I wanted to go to college. They wouldn’t let me, so I ran away and joined the army.”

“That seems kind of…extreme.”

“Overprotective is kind of an understatement. I never went to school, never had extracurriculars, never had any friends. It was a very lonely childhood.” You say, “I just wanted to go. And when they refused to even consider university for me, I took the next best choice.”

“Have you enrolled?” Neyo asks.

“Sorry?”

“In university. There is a University in Mandalore, you know.”

“Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re kind of at war right now.” You reply blandly.

“Oh, is that what this is?”

You turn your head to glare at him, “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

He smirks at you, “When the deployment ends, you can enroll. I’ll even help you.”

“Great, then I’ll be even more likely to become an ARC.”

“You don’t want it?”

“I like this battalion. You’re an asshole, but I can be an asshole right back to you. I might not have that option in other battalions.” You pause, “Plus, you’re cute.”

Neyo releases a short laugh, “We all have the same face, an’edee.”

“So what you’re saying is I should go flirt with Commander Bacara then?”

“Absolutely fucking not. You can flirt with me.”

“Is that right?” You roll onto your side, “So…are you tired of running through my mind all day?” You ask with a wide grin.

Neyo bursts out laughing and then groans, and folds his arm over his ribs, “That was awful and you should feel terrible for making me listen to it.”

“Sorry,” You say, unrepentantly.

“No you’re not, don’t lie.”

“No, I’m not.” You agree with a laugh.

He rolls over and looks at you, “So…” Neyo starts.

“So?”

“There’s a place not far from the palace that sells the best curry known to man. Have you been?”

“I got off the carriage from Alderaan and immediately enlisted…so no.”

“That’s a shame. When we get back from deployment, I’ll take you.” Neyo says.

“Like, on a date.”

“Exactly like a date.” He replies.

“Hm…sounds like fun.” You say lightly, “But you realize you definitely have to send me to Alpha-17 now.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He glances at you with a soft smile, “You’re going to be a great ARC Knight.”

And you grin at him.

Eventually you’ll reach out to your parents. Eventually you’ll explain your decisions and your reasonings for running away. But right here, right now, there’s someone who supports you 100%, and you’ve never been happier.