#delta squad x you

[wanderinginksplot]

Refuge Chapter Seven

You have a little time to kill before your first mission. Delta Squad has very different ideas of how you should spend it.

Continued slow burn Delta Squad x fem!reader

Word Count: 6,600

Warnings: feelings of alienation, mentions of lack of money, misunderstandings, light discussion of weapons and battle tactics, slight embarrassment.

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When Scorch had mentioned finding a fun way to spend time planetside, he had apparently meant it literally. He and Sev walked you to the front entrance to the Temple and unceremoniously led the way outside. 

Scorch had already started walking away, chattering about places he enjoyed, when you stepped through the towering doors. You paused when you were out, taking a moment to adjust to the differences between what you were used to and what you actually found on Coruscant.

To be fair, those differences were hardly surprising. Coruscant was densely populated and heavily polluted. The outside air wouldn’t feel fresh, cool and faintly scented with pine needles like you were accustomed to on Voubos. But you were never ready for the hot, semi-stagnant waft tinged with the exhaust of innumerable speeders flying overhead.

More than the disappointing atmosphere, Coruscant was overwhelming, so bright your eyes stung to look around. Voubos could be noisy and had its fair share of sunshine, but there were no trees to shelter you from it here. The street outside the Jedi Temple was one of the few that hadn’t been choked by buildings, and it left the sun beating down on the duracrete expanse where you stood. The vicious light was blocked only by the occasional shadow of a speeder passing overhead, like a less-pleasant version of the clouds that performed the same function back home. 

And none of it was silent. The speeder engines were noisy, the people were noisy. Everything was undercut by the rumble of far-off machinery and the drone of hovering screens broadcasting the most recent Senate debate. It was loud enough that you almost didn’t register the sound of someone speaking directly to you. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Sev’s harsh voice managed to cut through the stimuli surrounding you. You shook your head. “I’m still getting used to all of this..”

“You came here from the GAR headquarters,” he countered, frowning. “And you tailed us from there again today.”

“Commander Gree brought us in a transport the first time and I was too scared to see anything more than a blur,” you explained, still transfixed by the chaos surrounding you. “When I found you earlier, I was focused. I had something to get done. And now…”

“Now, you don’t have a mission to concentrate on,” Sev summarized. 

You grimaced. “Exactly. I’m sorry, I know I must seem… I’m sorry.”

Sev shook his head. “Remind me later and I’ll tell you about my first time on a planet other than Kamino.”

“Why not now?” you asked. 

“First, I don’t want to scare you,” he said ominously. Then he nodded behind you. “Second, we’re about to have company.”

Before you could wonder about the second part of that, Scorch came jogging up to the two of you. “What’s going on? I thought you were following me.”

“Just taking a minute to look around,” Sev told him. 

“We’ve all been here before, Sev,” Scorch reminded, exasperation in his face and voice. “No need to play tour guide.”

Sev - standing slightly behind you - must have made some kind of face at Scorch, who abruptly changed his stance. “Or, I suppose there might be a little need to play tour guide. But I’m the much better choice for it.”

He beckoned you closer and you obligingly followed him to the edge of one of the regular gaps that provided entrance to the lower levels. Scorch gestured toward it, though it was partially hidden behind the utilitarian fences that kept passers-by from getting too close. “Do you know what’s down there?”

With a smile at his hushed, conspiratorial tone, you nodded. “It’s another level. I understand there are five thousand of them.”

“Oh,” Scorch said, seeming to deflate slightly. 

Sev laughed at his brother, joining you in staring toward the fence-flanked space. “Five thousand plus a few, but yeah. I take it you did some research about the planet?”

You nodded. “But there are a few things I still don’t really understand.” 

“Like what?” Sev asked. 

“How do they make sure the levels are tall enough?” you asked, feeling utterly ridiculous. But the question had been bothering you, and this was a good opportunity to get some answers. “Do they just base the height of the ceilings on the tallest known species and go from there? Or are different levels different heights?”

Sev was staring at you blankly, which made you more nervous, but Scorch tipped his head back with a look of understanding. “Ahh, I get it. You’re thinking too small, nattie. Levels aren’t just for beings to walk around on. Each one is big enough to have buildings and speeder lanes and stuff. There’s no need to base them on specific heights.”

“They’re that big?” you asked, feeling suddenly queasy with vertigo. It was strange, fearing heights with your feet planted firmly on the ground, but you were also cognizant of the fact that you were far, far from the surface of the planet itself.

Scorch nodded sagely. “Yep. And each one has more species than you can count calling it home.”

“You good?” Sev asked, fingertips grazing your elbow lightly. 

You were gaping, you knew it. When you spoke, your voice was hushed and a little unsteady. “How are there any people left to live on other planets?”

“There are plenty more people in the galaxy,” Sev told you, amusement filling his deep voice. “Trust me, we’re fighting about half of ‘em.”

“You’re just not used to seeing this many life-forms,” Scorch informed you. “This is the most heavily populated planet in the galaxy. Your planet wasn’t anything compared to this.”

You hadn’t thought about Voubos very often since you had started training with the Jedi. Still, it was jarring to hear someone mention it, especially so casually. It made you feel like your life was a statistic, an incidental casualty almost too small to be counted. Not even - your life hadn’t been lost or taken, simply changed. You weren’t even significant enough to be a statistic.

Suddenly, you felt dizzy again, overwhelmed by something so much larger than yourself. But this time, instead of the planet’s population, the feeling had been brought on by the staggering largeness of the war. 

The only thing that brought you out of it was an unexpected noise. The sound could only be described as the sound of a plastoid-covered hand striking a plastoid-covered chest. It was followed shortly by a growl from Sev. “Shut up, di’kut.” 

“Sorry,” Scorch muttered. “I forgot natties are sentimental about that kind of thing.”

“It’s okay.” They both looked skeptical about your reassurance, but you smiled and changed the subject before they could add anything else. “So, what are we going to do? Did you have a plan for what you want to see today?”

“Whatever you wanna see,” Scorch told you with a shrug. “Explore as much as you want.”

Sev nodded. “We’re only here to make sure you aren’t attacked. Or fall off a building.”

That low opinion of your survival skills aside, you were warmed by the thoughtfulness and started off in a direction you decided looked promising. 

The time you spent on Coruscant took on a strange quality. Everything you saw was wonderful, every experience unlike any other you had ever had before. But, looking back, you could hardly catch more than a blur. 

You saw shops filled with goods both familiar and utterly mystifying. The streets were packed to bursting with beings, many of them belonging to species you had never seen before. Street performers playing strange instruments tried to entice passers-by to dance while stern, armored troopers ordered them to keep moving. 

You couldn't help sneaking a glance at the red and white helmet as you walked past. Both the Republic and the Separatist Alliance had distributed propaganda on Voubos, so they weren't unfamiliar to you. But you hadn't realized how imposing they would be with their blankly watching visors and the blasters strapped to their thigh plates.

With your focus so close on one trooper, you completely missed another standing on the opposite side of the path. Unfortunately, your lack of attention meant that you bumped into him, swiping him with your shoulder. 

He didn’t move in the slightest except to look down at you. In contrast, the slight collision had sent you staggering and you offered apologies even as you tried to recover your balance. 

“Watch yourself, civilian,” the trooper ordered. You couldn’t see his expression, but his tone managed to be disdainful even through the small speakers of his helmet. 

“Didn’t you hear her say ‘sorry’?” Sev asked, his deep voice lashing out from behind you. 

“And that’s more than you deserve, di’kut,” Scorch told him dismissively. “Anyone could see it was an accident.”

The trooper bristled, taking an aggressive half-step forward. “Hey, just because you’re-”

“Drop it,” the other trooper advised through the crowd. “Not worth the paperwork.”

The closer trooper looked Scorch and Sev up and down. He didn’t bother including you in that. Seemingly to himself, he muttered, “Commandos.”

“What was that?” Sev asked. 

If Sev took things any further, it was going to get physical. If it got physical, Scorch would join in. If Scorch joined in, it would be a brawl. Would you be pulled off of working with Delta Squad if half of them started a brawl with the Coruscant Guard? Instinct told you yes, but the Republic was short-staffed… But you weren’t taking any chances.

“Sorry again,” you called loudly, cutting off whatever else anyone might say. Your push against Scorch’s shoulder wasn’t gentle, but it was effective. Sev was more of a challenge, and you ended up bracing both hands between his shoulder blades and shoving. It wasn’t at all effective, but he let you move him. “We’ll just be on our way!”

The moment you had gotten through the press of the small crowd, Sev let out a string of blistering curses in an unfamiliar language. You watched in something like awe while Scorch gave you an amused look. When Sev had finished, Scorch asked, “Feeling any better?”

“No,” Sev grumbled. “I should have hit him.”

“I don’t think any of us are interested in seeing the inside of a Corrie Guard holding cell,” Scorch said lightly. “What’s next?”

As the second part of that had been directed at you, you glanced around. “I’m not sure. Are either of you getting hungry?”

Sev gave you a look you couldn’t quite figure out until Scorch added, “Always.”

You were, as well. “Well, something smells fantastic! I think it’s coming from over here…”

A nearby stand was offering street food, roasted meat and hunks of bread paired with a variety of sauces for dipping either into. The worker standing there belonged to a species you couldn’t name, though you had seen some of them around. They had a humanoid build with green, leathery skin. Their face had folds and curves that made you think their bone structure was slightly different than that of humans, but similar enough to know that they were offering a polite smile.

“Looking for something in particular?” The low tone and roughness of the worker’s voice made you think they were male, but there was no way to know for sure without asking, and that would have been inexcusably rude.

“It all looks incredible,” you told them, flashing a smile between staring at the array of foods spread out on the stand’s preparation surface.

“Only the best at Kiaba’s.” It was always risky trying to interpret the facial expressions of humanoid species, but from the clear pride that shone from their bearing, you assumed that you were speaking with the very Kiaba who owned the stand. 

You wanted to get a closer look at the food, but before you could take more than a step, Scorch had caught at your elbow. He leaned close, and for a wild moment, you thought he was going to kiss your cheek. 

He didn’t, of course. His lips ended up a scant distance from your ear instead, keeping Kiaba from overhearing. “We don’t have any credits, and this side of the city isn’t too willing to give their goods away.”

“Especially Klatoonians,” Sev added, half-turning away from Kiaba, who was watching you curiously from behind the stand’s main counter. “The culture believes in the value of hard work, but they take it to extremes. They consider any charity to be stealing someone’s chance to earn something the right way.”

You sent Kiaba a regretful smile. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been informed that we don’t have any credits.”

The professional half-smile that had stretched Kiaba’s lips disappeared in an instant as they scowled. “No handouts.”

“Of course not,” Scorch muttered, definitely loud enough for Kiaba to hear. Their scowl deepened and they leaned forward as if they were half-thinking about jumping over the workstation to beat some sense into an upstart customer.

So you cut in, avoiding Sev's attempt to stop you. "Sorry about the confusion! While we're talking, though, can you tell me what that dish is. The one right… there?" 

You gestured to something that looked like a pocket of dough, crimped at the edges, with hints of a warm orange seeping through in certain spots. It looked like a normal piece of dough, other than the spots, but it smelled of deep spices and roasted vegetables. 

Kiaba shook their head. "I can't take time outta my day to explain my menu to people who aren't even gonna buy something. I have paying customers."

"Where?" Scorch challenged. "We're the closest thing you have to customers within a five-klick radius!"

To Scorch’s credit, that was true. The area in front of Kiaba’s stand wasn’t empty - the size of the city made that nearly impossible - but no one seemed compelled to look at the food, much less stop. 

“Of course you don’t have to talk with us if you’re busy,” you assured. “I just want to understand it to see if I can find something similar in the future when I do have some credits.”

“You’d never find anything like my tisuh,” Kiaba told you, their tone a mixture of irritation and pride. “There are others who make it, but no one who does it as well as I do.”

You nodded, offering an encouraging smile. Kiaba watched you suspiciously before heaving a loud sigh. They beckoned you closer, dishing up one of the dough pockets so you could examine it more closely against the light brown of a simple disposable plate. 

“Tisuh is found many places in the galaxy,” they explained. “It is dough wrapped around a filling. There are as many kinds of tisuh as there are people who make it. Everyone has their own recipes, but the best one is found on Klatooine, where I’m from. My forebears have been making this dish for thousands of years, for millions of people. Wherever I am…” Kiaba took a bite of the pale round, showing you the orange-sauced filling inside as they chewed and gave a blissful tilt of their head, “it always reminds me of home.”

The watering of your mouth halted as you wondered what would remind you of Voubos. Everything, you expected, but you still managed a nod for Kiaba. “That’s lovely. I’m happy you have such a strong tie to things that bring you joy.”

“Where’s home for you?” they asked, taking another bite of food. 

“Nowhere, not anymore,” you admitted softly. “I’m looking for a new one.”

The green-skinned being finished chewing and watched you silently. You held their gaze, waiting to hear more about their tie to the tisuh or be told to leave, but Kiaba sighed again. They set their half-eaten food aside, deposited two more tisuh onto a new plate, and held it out to you. “You might as well have a full stomach while you look.”

The smile that spread across your face was instant and - you could feel it - delighted. It was nice to be reminded that there were kind and generous beings in the galaxy, no matter how rare they seemed. “Thank you, Kiaba. I appreciate it.”

From behind you, there came the sound of a throat being pointedly cleared. Kiaba rolled their dark eyes. “I guess I can spare a few for your friends.”

“I appreciate that, too,” you told them with a slow nod to show your gratitude. “As do my friends.”

It took a stern look from you to prompt Scorch and Sev into thanks, which were muttered without an ounce of sincerity. Kiaba seemed unconvinced, but the astonishment you felt when you took your first bite of tisuh brought something almost prideful to their expression.

The dough was tender and delicate, falling away to reveal a filling that seemed to be made up of mostly vegetables. They were tender, with just enough variation in texture for you to recognize that the filling had several different kinds of vegetables in it. All of them had been stewed in a thick sauce that was toward the upper limit of your spice tolerance, but the heat was dampened slightly by the coolness of the bready dough that had surrounded the filling.

“This…” you started, pausing for a moment while your brain tried to choose between speech and shoving more food into your mouth. “Kiaba, this is incredible!” 

“I know,” Kiaba told you with the closest thing you had seen to a smile on their face. 

You returned to inhaling your tisuh. Sev and Scorch were silent, but you could tell that they also liked the food by the speed they were eating. Even so, your plate was the first one empty and you disposed of it in a nearby waste receptacle. 

“My apologies for my friends,” you told Kiaba, earning a glare from Scorch. Sev ignored you entirely. “I can see why you were worried about a sudden flood of customers. I’m not sure how you have any tisuh that hasn’t been purchased already, but I thank you for sharing the excess with us. Your kindness is most appreciated.”

Kiaba waved you away. “Been kinda slow today, actually. Lucky for you all.”

Scorch appeared over your shoulder, peering down toward your hands. “Do you have any you’re not going to-? Oh, you’re already finished. You know, most females wouldn’t have been able to eat all of that.”

“Well, most females don’t have Kiaba’s excellent tisuh to motivate them,” you countered. “I think that’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten!”

A dozen or so passersby glanced over at you curiously at the fervent praise. Some came to look at Kiaba’s selection of foods, and you were amused to see that a small line formed as you watched. 

Kiaba glanced from the line to you, their dark eyes traveling to Sev next. They pointed a stubby green finger at Scorch and Sev. “You two keep this to yourselves. I’m not running a clone charity. This was a one-time thing. I don’t want to see clones coming around here asking for handouts.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sev muttered while Scorch made a rude gesture behind him. Fortunately, Kiaba was too busy tending to the line to pay much attention to their antics, and you managed to pull the commandos away before they could say anything else. 

The three of you walked in silence for a while, but it started to grow uncomfortable. You rubbed your stomach and let out a contented sigh. “That was great.”

Sev nodded. “Better than the usual stuff.”

That made you remember to ask what you should have asked earlier. “So you guys don’t have any credits at all? How do you eat when you’re on Coruscant?”

“GAR mess hall,” Sev told you. “Or there’s a civvie place nearby that gives clones food occasionally. Some sympathizer. Feels bad for us.”

“Oh.” There seemed to be very few responses to that, but you ventured, “Nice?”

“Yeah, but it can get a little old,” Scorch said. “We don’t mind eating the same food over and over - ration bars’ll train you right up for that - but it’s nice to have something different now and then.”

You nodded understandingly. Anyone would get tired of the same food over and over again. “That’s valid. Even if it’s charity, that doesn’t mean you need to want it all the time.”

When Sev spoke, it was so sudden that he interrupted whatever Scorch had intended to say. “How much of that was Jedi osik?”

Scorch’s protests cut off and you felt the weight of their scrutiny on your face. All you could offer was the truth. “I’m not really sure.”

“I thought you learned to control it,” Scorch said. 

“I am, it’s- it’s a long process,” you reminded them both. “It’s hard to know when I’m using the Force, because I’ve spent my whole life thinking it was just part of who I am and how I relate to people.”

The silence was deafening - which was a trick, considering the sheer number of people surrounding you as you walked through the city streets - until it was broken by Scorch. He sounded unusually serious, enough so that you actually looked over at him. “Never use that on us. Just… don’t.”

“I won’t,” you assured him instantly, stung by the insinuation that you would try to make them do something by force rather than conversation or negotiation. 

“You might not know, though, right?” Sev pointed out. 

“...Right,” you agreed, voice quiet. You hated to admit it, but you refused to lie to them. There was every chance you wouldn’t be able to recognize when you were influencing their will. 

When you arrived at the barracks, Boss and Fixer were waiting for you. 

The silence that fell between the three of you was tense. When Scorch suggested that you go back to the GAR’s barracks, you didn’t argue. 

“About time,” Fixer grumbled. “I knew Six-Two couldn’t read a chronometer, but I thought better of you, Oh-Seven.”

“Shove it, Fixer,” Scorch retorted. “We’re not on a mission. And fifteen extra minutes is nothing in civvie time.”

“C’mon, we have places to be,” Boss ordered, offering only a brief nod to Scorch and Sev. He gestured for you to follow him as he walked away. 

You glanced at the others. Sev’s expression was blank while Scorch’s was an amused mask. Fixer started walking in the direction Boss had gone, tilting his head for you to come along.

Gradually, the signage told you that you were approaching the armory. Every door you passed was just like every other, a gray door set in a gray wall. They were double the width of a standard door, leaving no hint about what lay behind or what typically was transported in or out. When you finally stopped, Boss had to enter a code into a control panel set into the wall and scan a spot on his arm before the door would open. From the noise it made while it slid, it was heavier than normal - most likely armored to withstand any attempts to break in. Even then, you entered into a narrow, shallow hallway that led directly to another door with the same control panel and scanner. Boss opened that armored door as well and you entered the room.

When you stepped through, you were taken aback by the sheer size of the armory. Just ahead of you was a waiting area, complete with hard durasteel benches set into the walls for people to sit while they awaited their chance to speak with the clerk. The clerk’s desk was set behind another wall - though this one did not reach the towering ceiling. It was guarded by a transparisteel barrier that looked resistant to blaster fire, though there was a speaker set into it so people could speak to the clerk. 

Behind the clerk’s chair, you could see rows of doorways holding different types of weapons. Each entrance was covered by a ray shield. There were shelves in the middle of the space that held the additional necessities - everything from kamas to harnesses that would support heavy weapons for the wearer - and at the back of the room, you could see a practice range. There was more around the edges of the space, you were sure, but it was hidden by the half-wall and the clerk was beckoning you forward. 

You took a nervous step toward the human male - definitely not a clone, you noted, but a GAR employee - but Boss approached with more confidence. “I need to outfit a new member of my squad.”

“Okay, that doesn’t help me much,” the clerk told him. “What is your designation? What is your squad’s designation? What is the new trooper’s designation?”

“RC-1138, Delta Squad, and she doesn’t have a designation.”

The clerk blinked at the resolution of Boss’s answers. “She? You have a non-clone addition to a commando squad?” 

“Yes, we do,” Fixer said, ushering you forward. “Approved by the Jedi Council. Generals Yoda, Windu, and Unduli in particular.”

The clerk still looked a little stunned, even when he was looking directly at you, so you helpfully supplied your name. He shook his head in resignation. “You’re going to have to wait while I get this cleared.”

“Fine,” Boss agreed, stopping you when you started toward one of the benches in the empty waiting area. 

“You’ll probably be more comfortable over there,” the clerk said. 

“We’ll just wait here,” Fixer countered, leaning slightly against the counter and watching the clerk steadily. 

There was no way to know for certain how quickly the clerk would have moved without being stared at by two no-nonsense commandos and one mildly confused Force-sensitive woman, but he was able to contact someone in moments. After a short conversation with a superior who sounded decidedly grumpy to be asked for clearance, the clerk motioned you over to a door set into the wall that divided the waiting area from the rest of the armory. 

When it opened, Boss led the way in and Fixer followed you. The clerk gave all three of you a skeptical look. “The droids will help you from here. I assume you know where everything is?”

“Yes,” Boss said shortly. 

“Thank you!” you chirped, unable to fight the urge to be polite. 

Boss glanced back at you with a slight lift of his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything as he led the way toward a specific part of the room.

“Don’t thank him,” Fixer told you. He didn’t lower his voice in the slightest and you cringed at the idea of the clerk overhearing him, but the man had gone back to his desk and was now scrolling through a datapad. “He did nothing but slow us down.”

“He let us in the door,” you argued. 

“Slowly,” Fixer snorted. “I could have sliced in faster than it took him to open it.”

"When you two are finished," Boss started, his even tone holding an edge of impatience, "I'd like to get this done."

With that said, he turned and tapped a droid that began to power up. 

You had gotten more familiar with the variety of droids that helped everyday life run more smoothly in the Republic, but you certainly didn't know all of them. You leaned closer to Fixer. "What kind of droid is it?" 

"An RMR, second generation," he told you. "They're pretty rare. The GAR is the only legal user in the galaxy."

As soon as the droid was fully upright, Boss shoved his arm in front of its sensors. "I need armor for my new squad member." 

The droid scanned Boss's arm with a flickering reddish light, then trained its sensors on his face. "The records indicate that the new attachment to Delta Squad, led by RC-1138, is a human female. The approval was issued by the Jedi Council. Do you need armor for a Jedi?" 

"Yes," Boss decided. As the RMR droid whirred toward one of the shelves, he gave a wordless shrug over one shoulder, offering that by way of an explanation to you and Fixer. 

The droid came back, holding a small stack of plates in its metallic arms. Boss accepted them with noticeable disgust. "What is this?" 

"Armor for a Jedi," RMR explained. "Most Jedi choose to wear small amounts of armor to facilitate easier movement around the battlefield. The blaster-resistant undertunics are provided by the Jedi Temple, but I could check to see what we have in stock…" 

“Absolutely not,” Boss refused. The droid, having already started to move away, turned just in time to catch the plates it had just handed Boss. The sergeant was shaking his head with thinly veiled irritation. “No Jedi of ours is going to walk around unarmored. I want a full set for her, tailored to her specs.”

You tried to keep a straight face, but you were unreasonably warmed by the casual sense of belonging that Boss had offered. You weren’t even a Jedi, really, but Delta Squad had offered you a place in the galaxy where you could fit in. And you would apparently fit in there for a long time, if Boss had anything to say about it.

“Sergeant, a full set of armor is heavy,” RMR objected. “Wearing it may decrease her ability to maneuver around a battlefield. That is the reasoning behind most Jedi wearing sparser armor-”

“And that’s their choice,” Boss agreed. “But I won’t have someone on my squad who would be taken out by ricochet blaster fire. Let us worry about her maneuverability.”

RMR droids clearly had not been designed to sigh, but if it had the ability, you would bet that RMR would have done so. Instead, it settled for a heavy silence before replacing the plates Boss had handed back. 

“Boss,” you started quietly, trying to disguise the emotion in your voice. You didn’t know exactly how you were going to thank him for looking out for you, but you needed to tell him. Especially in the wake of Scorch and Sev’s subtle step back after your earlier meal. “I-”

“No complaints,” he told you harshly. The surprise of it kept you from protesting aloud, but he seemed to take your silence for offense, because he gave a small sigh. You watched his shoulders move with it before he angled his head to see you in his peripheral vision. “I know it seems like too much, but-”

“Thank you,” you interrupted. 

You could only see Boss’s face in profile, but you watched the eyebrow you could see shoot upward in surprise. Before he could answer, the RMR droid returned. This time, it was carrying a much larger stack of plastoid plates. 

The feeling you got at the sight was a surprise to you. Those were yours - or, they would be once they had been sized properly. It would be your way to start repaying the debt you owed these men. Delta Squad had saved your life, and this pile of plastoid would protect that life while you worked to help them. 

RMR was apparently not happy with any of you, and it dumped the armor into Boss’s arms. Boss caught most of it, but Fixer had to snag a few pieces out of the air. Then RMR handed you a piece of slinky black material. 

“What is this?” you asked, holding it up and puzzling at the shapeless fall of fabric.

There was a beat of uncomfortable silence, broken only by a mutter from Fixer. “Body glove.”

Ah. 

The next hour was among the most embarrassing of your life. Republic technology was at least good enough to keep the fabric from becoming sheer as it stretched over certain places, but there were no secrets in the body glove. Every bump and curve and swell of your figure was blatantly visible.

It was bad enough when you confronted yourself in the long, narrow mirror in the changing room, but Boss and Fixer clearly noticed the places where the fabric strained to contain you. It became a game of ignorance, everyone aware of it, but no one saying anything. 

Fortunately, the nature of your task meant that you slowly got more covered up as time passed. Pieces of plastoid armor locked into place, each one held firm against you by a system of electromagnets. You had wondered how the armor worked, and you were thrilled to find that the electromagnetism was activated when the plates touched different sections of a flexible wiring worked into your body glove.

You had to swap several pieces of armor, working closely with RMR as you sized up and down to collect a full set that fit your body. By the time you finished, you were sweating. (You had to wipe it away with your palm, since the back of your hand was protected by a gauntlet.)

“Doing okay?” Fixer asked, approaching with the helmet you had been eying almost as long as you had been trying on armor. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a sheepish look. “This really is heavy. More than I expected.”

Boss nodded. “We’ll do most of your training in it to build your strength. The relief mission we’re about to go on won’t require speed, but wearing it will keep you safe while you get used to it.”

“I can’t say I’m looking forward to it, but I think it’s a good idea.”

As soon as you had agreed, Fixer handed you the helmet. “Last piece.”

You raised the helmet and slid it over your head. The seal at the bottom of the helmet pulled at your scalp, then at the sensitive skin of your face as it lowered further and further before it settled into place. When the helmet seal met the neck of your body glove, the helmet’s HUD flickered to life. 

Your breath caught at the way information was augmenting everything you could see. You had assumed that the helmet would limit your sight and hearing, but that wasn’t the case at all. In fact, the only sense that suffered was smell. 

The viewport allowed you to see everything around you while the HUD gave you information about everything outside your field of vision, synced to where your eyes traveled. The speakers of the helmet were incredible as well, bringing sounds inside while also allowing your sound of surprise to travel outward.

Fixer grinned and Boss gave a soft chuckle - both of which were presented with perfect clarity by the helmet. 

“I remember that first time seeing the galaxy through a helmet,” Fixer said, sounding a little wistful. 

“We’ll probably turn down some of the HUD features until you get used to it,” Boss offered. “And then you can sort through it all and choose what you want to keep.”

“Can I keep all of it?” you asked. “It’s incredible!”

“You won’t want to see everything,” Fixer warned you. “Especially not when you’re in combat. You’ll want the necessities - nothing more, nothing less.”

“If all members of your squad are fully armored, I must request that you leave the armory,” RMR informed you all, appearing once more. You weren’t surprised, though. The HUD had warned you of an incoming droid even with RMR approaching from behind you. 

“We’ll be on our way in a minute, droid,” Boss told it. He turned to Fixer. “Go check our ship for tomorrow. Make sure everything is loaded and that systems are set for a smooth mission. You know what to look for.”

Fixer nodded and - with a final glance at you - left the armory. Boss held a hand out in your direction. You glanced at it, then at him, but he couldn’t see your confused frown under the cover of protective plastoid.

After a moment, he said, “Give me your helmet. I’ll hold it while you change back into your clothes.”

Ah. At least you hadn’t done anything mortifying, like taking his hand. Even so, your face was hot as you removed the helmet and handed it to him. Your retreat to the changing area may have been a little faster than it would have been otherwise, but that could be for any number of reasons. 

When you reappeared, Boss gave you a medium-sized pack. “To carry the armor.”

You nodded and knelt to pack the plates of armor. By far the bulkiest piece was the chestplate, but it wasn’t impossible to carry. The body glove folded down smaller than you could believe, especially now that you knew there was an electromagnetic system hidden in the fabric’s weave.

You stood and slung the pack over your shoulders. It took a moment to adjust your balance, but the weight didn’t seem quite so bad with it supported by your shoulder. Boss handed you the helmet once more. “I’ve already signed everything out, so we’re good to go. Just remember that everything is owned by the GAR. They don’t care if you customize it, but not in any way that purposely damages it.” 

“Got it,” you said with a nod. “Anything else I should know?”

“No, but there’s something I should,” Boss countered. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked in surprise, walking behind him as you left the armory. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing is wrong.”

Boss sighed through his nose, a sound filled with more disappointment than irritation. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want a real answer. What is it?” 

You took a moment to think it over, but Boss apparently thought you didn’t intend to say anything at all. With a grave look, he said, “I’ll make it an order if I have to.”

With that mild threat hanging over you, telling the truth seemed to be your best option. You told him what had happened at Kiaba’s, and the way Scorch and Sev had reacted to you afterward.

“It makes sense and I understand where they’re coming from,” you hastened to add. “I’m just worried they’re never going to trust me. But I know none of us knew everything before we agreed to have me work for you and I’m not going to be offended if you feel the same way. It’s hard to-”

“I don’t.”

The simple denial made you abruptly cut off your tirade. Despite the trickle of relief running through you, the only question you had was: “Why?”

Boss shrugged. “The Force isn’t much different from getting an order. You feel like you should follow it, but nothing can completely take over your free will. Not unless you’re a complete di’kut.”

“How do you know?” you asked. It seemed stupid to question things when they seemed to be going your way, but you couldn’t help it.

“Someone had us made,” Boss pointed out. “If the Force could make people follow something without question, they wouldn’t need a clone army, they would need a rogue Jedi. Besides, Dooku would do that to make an army for the Seppies. Instead, they’re spending fortunes on their clankers.”

For the life of you, you couldn’t think of an answer to that. When you kept walking beside him in open-mouthed silence, Boss caught your look and shrugged again. “It’s a working theory, but I thought it over before I ever agreed to have you join us.”

“You’re smarter than I could ever dream of being,” you told him, hearing the awe in your own voice. 

“Nah, I’m just used to thinking around what the jetii do,” he countered. “Don’t worry about Sev and Scorch. They’ll get over it soon enough. Right now, you need to focus on the mission. We meet in the hangar bay at oh-five-hundred hours. Get some sleep before then.”

---

Author's Note - Uh, oh. A little awkwardness with Scorch and Sev! I'm STILL working my way through the Republic Commando book series, and I feel like troopers (especially Delta) would have trouble with the idea of their scraps of free will being taken away by someone, even if they like and trust that person.

This chapter was supposed to be posted a week ago, but Thanksgiving was crazy and internet access was sparse. Sorry for the delay and thank you for your patience. Thank you for reading!

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Turn It Up When You're Gone (3/? - Kriff it, it's a series now)

This is just straight smut, friends. Absolute filth. There is no plot to be found. If you want to know more context, I recommend starting here, and then reading this.

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Sev x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.1k

Summary: Sev is a connoisseur of cake, and he's just getting started.

Warnings: SMUT; voice kink; body worship; erotic massage; rimming/ass play; masturbation

Start here | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Join my tag list here

Sev breathes hard as you slide your hand down his body. You feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, feel his harsh gasps against your hair. His hips flex against you as you stroke his erection through the body glove. Before you can explore much further, though, his hand settles over yours, bringing your movements to a halt.

“Oh, darling,” he says, his voice a deep rumble against your ear. “Did you think I was finished with you? I’m just getting started.”

He brings your hand to his mouth and presses his lips to your wrist, then, holding you securely in his strong arms, he rises from the floor, lifting you with him. He notices the way your legs tremble as you stand, and he supports you with an arm wrapped around your waist as he guides you to your bunk. The backs of your knees collide with the edge of the bed, and he lowers you gently onto the mattress.

He straddles you, looming over you, and you have the odd thought that you should feel smothered or claustrophobic under his bulk, but instead you feel… safe. Protected. He touches you with astonishing gentleness, as though you are something precious and fragile. His fingers are warm against your skin as he trails them softly across your cheek, down your neck, across your collarbone. He slides his hand beneath your head as he leans forward to kiss you.

His lips taste like you, and you’re a little startled by how much you like it. As Sev pins you to the bed, he overwhelms your senses until all you can see is his eyes, and all you can taste is his tongue, and all you can feel is the slide of his hands against you, and all you can smell is his skin, and all you can hear is his deep, deep voice as he groans against your lips. His kiss lights up your entire body, and almost unconsciously, you roll your pelvis against him, desperate for stimulation. His strong, thick thighs hold you in place, though, and only allow you the tiniest range of motion. You wrap your arms around him and dig your fingers into the muscles of his back, and he lets out a growl of pleasure that makes your skin prickle in response.

“Kark me, your mouth is enough to make me believe in god,” he says as he finally breaks the kiss. “Your lips are so soft, and oh, fuck, that tongue.”

“You should see what else my tongue can do,” you whisper. You draw one hand around his body and reach for the autofastener of his body glove. “Let me just—”

He grabs your wrist and pins it to the bed. You snap your eyes to his, startled.

“Not yet, little one,” he says. 

You give your wrist a little tug, and he releases you immediately. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asks.

“No,” you say. “I liked it.”

He sucks in a breath, and his pupils flare, consuming the clear amber of his eyes in their inky depths.

“Did you?” he asks, his voice dropping to an even deeper register, and fuck, you could just close your eyes and listen to him talk for hours. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind for next time. But I have plans for you tonight.”

“What kind of plans?” you ask.

You don’t realize you’ve caught your bottom lip between your teeth until Sev fixes his intent gaze on your mouth. You release your lip, and he strokes his thumb across it. Remembering what he’d said in his recording, you swipe the tip of your tongue over the pad of his thumb. He slips it into your mouth, and you scrape your teeth over it gently. He withdraws his hand and rests it softly across your throat as he lowers his mouth to yours in an all-consuming kiss. He holds you lightly; not hard enough to cut off your circulation or breathing, but firm enough that you can feel your blood pulsing against him, and the lightheadedness makes all your sensations feel even more overwhelming. 

You whimper as you try again to lever your hips up off the mattress and into him. You can feel the rigid length of his cock pressing against your body, but he holds back, and you can feel what that self-control costs him in the tensity of his muscles.

“Please, Sev,” you gasp. “I want you so badly.” 

He drags his mouth down your neck and chest, and then—FUCK! He bites your breast. Not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to karking hurt.

“What the hell?” you demand indignantly, before releasing a soft, pleasurable, “Ohhh.”

His tongue glides over the painful mark, the gentle heat soothing the ache and sending waves of pleasure lapping across your skin. Your hands rise unbidden to his head, and you tease your fingers through his curls.

“Too much?” he asks.

“No,” you reply, a little uncertainly.

“I won’t do it again unless you want me to,” he says.

“I think I do,” you confess. “But maybe work up to it next time.”

“As you wish,” he says, dropping one final, light kiss onto your breast. He shifts his weight so he’s no longer pinning you to the mattress, and with a single dexterous movement, he flips you over onto your belly. “Kriffing hell, you have an incredible ass.”

His tone falls somewhere between lust and awe, and you feel his strong hands sweep up the back of your thighs and onto your ass, his fingers kneading into the flesh and muscle. He works his hands over you in long, languid strokes, massaging your hips, thighs, lower back, and buttocks with a hypnotically relaxing thoroughness, and you let out an involuntary moan as your eyes flutter closed in bliss.

Sev slides his palms firmly up your back and in between your shoulders, rubbing circles into the muscles, and then working his way back down. When his hands reach your ass, you feel the subtle rasp of his facial hair scrape against your skin as his mouth descends on you. He kisses and licks and nibbles his way across your buttocks, and his fingers tease your entrance.

You shift to give him better access, and with a deep growl, he grabs you by the hips and lifts you until you’re on your knees before him, face pressed into your pillow as he buries his mouth in you. He swirls his tongue over your clit, and then dives into your cunt as his hot breath fans against your ass, and holy mother of the Force, the noises he makes are intoxicating. His grunts vibrate against your tender skin, making you squirm with pleasure. He devours you like a man starved, and soon his fingers slide between your labia as he works his mouth backward toward the smooth, sensitive ring of your anus. He flicks his tongue over you, and your body lurches away reflexively as you let out a guttural curse. Sev freezes, then starts to pull away, but you press back against him.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you say raggedly, and that is all he needs to hear.

He snakes one arm around your thighs and pulls you firmly against his face as his other hand continues to work your cunt, stretching you out and circling your clit with purposeful strokes. You hear him rumble with pleasure as he explores your ass with his mouth, and just when you think he couldn’t possibly take you to a higher point of ecstasy, he slides his tongue into you, and you shatter with a hoarse scream.

Sev clamps his strong arm around your thighs and pins you against him, ruthlessly tongue-fucking you through your orgasm and not stopping until you are a twitching, sobbing mess. When at last he pulls away from you, he crawls up the bed and lies down on his side, drawing your back up against his solid warmth as he kisses your shoulder and strokes his hand across your limbs in a calming rhythm.

You shudder almost uncontrollably in his embrace, but then you realize that he is still wearing that damned body glove, and you twist yourself around to face him.

“Take this off,” you murmur, trailing your fingertips across his chest. “I want to see you.”

He hesitates, not meeting your eyes. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

“Why not?” you ask, confused.

“I’ve been wearing this thing for three days. I’ve been in debriefings all day. I didn’t have time to shower.”

You blink. “Sev, you just had your tongue in my ass, and you’re worried about how you smell?”

“Of the two of us, I’m the only one who’s smelled both, and I can tell you, your ass is better. Trust me, babydoll. You don’t want me to take this thing off.”

You try to cajole him, but he is adamant.

“If you want a shower, why don’t you just use my refresher?” you ask at last.

He has not stopped caressing your limbs, but his hand pauses its progress at your offer, and something vulnerable and confused flickers in his eyes.

“Your refresher?” he repeats as though he doesn’t understand the question.

“Unless you don’t want to, of course. No pressure,” you say, hoping that you’re not putting him on the spot.

“No, it’s not that,” he says. “It’s just, nobody has ever—I’ve only ever used the communal showers before.”

You remember the bleak austerity of the clone barracks you saw in the short clip of Sev’s helmet feed, and you swallow down your guilt and rage at the shittiness of the hand that’s been dealt to these brave, extraordinary men.

“You can use mine any time you want,” you offer impulsively. 

He is quiet for a moment, eyes roaming over your face, looking for something only he knows. Finally, he nods. “Thanks. I’ll make it quick.”

“Take as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere,” you say. He rises and crosses to your small refresher, but before he goes inside, you add, “If you toss your body glove out, I’ll run it through my sonic washer for you.”

“Thanks,” he says after a pause.

Sev looks curiously around your small refresher. It’s cramped and plain, but the idea of having a private refresher all to himself seems an unfathomable luxury. Everywhere he looks, he sees small glimpses into your life. The room is scrupulously clean, and there’s no hint of the dank smells of mildew and body odor that pervade every communal refresher he’s ever used. He performs a quick recon of the wall cabinet and finds your toothbrush and other toiletry items, as well as a bewildering assortment of mysterious small jars and vials. 

Not wanting to take too long and arouse suspicion, he strips out of his blacks and cracks open the door to drop them outside. Your offer to wash his blacks had been an even bigger surprise than your willingness to share your refresher, and to be frank, he hadn’t been sure how to respond. His first instinct had been to refuse—it was too intimate a task to expect of someone he’d just met, even if his tongue had been inside you mere minutes before. But you had offered willingly, and the prospect of showering only to have to put back on the filthy garment had convinced him.

He steps into your shower, and the water turns on automatically. He stretches his neck under the hot spray, willing the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders to relax. He is exhausted. Delta squad’s mission hadn’t been any worse than usual, but it had still been three grueling days of fighting. Still, it had been worth powering through his fatigue to feel your warm, soft body beneath him. 

His cock is still achingly hard, and the sensation of his slippery hands as he soaps up is almost too much for him. He would take care of himself right now, if you weren’t waiting on the other side of that door. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea—rub out a quick one so he can last longer with you.

Your soap isn’t the harsh, medicinal-smelling kind issued by the GAR. It smells fresh and clean, and he recognizes the scent from your skin. He leans his head against the shower wall, imagining it’s your hands working his cock, that it’s your skin he smells, and not just your soap. He knows you are waiting for him, so he picks up the pace, jerking himself in a tight, frantic grip. He is close, so fucking close, when he hears a soft knock. He freezes, eyes going wide.

“Sev?” he hears you call. “Want some company?”

---

Masterlist

I am physically incapable of letting Sev get off. What is wrong with me? I promise, the next chapter will finally be his time to shine.

Taglist: @secondaryrealm @blueink-bluesoul @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @goblininawig @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99

Also tagging @pb-jellybeans because it seemed like you might be interested in a follow-up.

[masterjedilenawrites]

Hello, m'lady!

If you don't mind, here are some incoherent thoughts about some of the Bois that came to my mind after reading around in your brilliant writing. You said you wouldn't mind my incoherent thoughts, so I thought I'd share them! (I'm still working on my incoherent Bad Batch thoughts, btw)

I want to hug Jesse. Like, he's hot as hell no questions asked, but I also just want to hug him. Like, a long hug. And tell him that he's loved and that he's enough and wonderful exactly as he is.

Also, I want to cook for all the clones, but these vibes are the strongest with Wrecker, and, for some reason, Hardcase and Fives.

Also, my ideal date is going to one of those public strawberry picking fields where you can just... walk around and fill your basket with strawberries, and afterwards go home and bake strawberry cake, and I'm going to drop that in this context.

Also I find it so interesting how non-commitical Rex actually is; like, who would've guessed that a guy with such a spit-death-in-the-face attitude on the battlefield would be so scared to let someone into his heart.

Also, I low-key wanna call Cody Marshall Commander, Sir and see what happens >:3

I haven't even consumed any Delta Squad material, but solely the writing on this blog made me love them all and (idk, maybe they've met in canon XD) I think Boss and Cody would get along.

And someone should tell Fixer to go tf to sleep, I'm sensing that he doesn't do that *nearly* enough.

Someone should also tell Kix that always putting others first and neglecting his own needs is not what being a good, compassionate person is about, and that he's worth it.

I could go on and on, damn, but lemme just say that your depiction of the Bois really helped shape a more 3-dimensional and rich picture of them in my head and that is awesome :)

Also thank you sm for my date set-up again, I'd 100% ask the dear commander for a second date.

I've been thinking about these gems nonstop since you dropped them in my inbox! 💙 I love getting thoughts like this so keep them coming! I don't get to talk about these wonderful clone men IRL so this is my only outlet 😅

And just so you know, I did intend to respond like a normal person and just... piggyback on your thoughts, share a few of my own, call it a day... but then my hand slipped and now I have 8 whole one-shots to share instead 😳😳

So, in honor of May the Fourth, I've got my 8 stories queued up to post throughout today (5/4), all based on what you shared here! We've got hurt/comfort, we've got silliness, we've got slice-of-life, we've even got some spice.... I had so much fun writing these and I hope you all enjoy them! 

Thanks for the inspo, friend! Wishing everyone a fantastic Star Wars day! 🌟

JESSE

Jesse definitely needs a good, solid hug every once in a while. Be prepared for his reaction, though, it'll be quite an emotional moment for him...

WRECKER (+Fives and Hardcase)

They do say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach...

BLACKOUT

Why not go on this ideal date with your new beau, Blackout? 😃

REX

His fear of commitment is interesting, huh? But he does have many loved ones who will help him work through that fear...

CODY

Oh boy, you'd best be ready for a long night after a line like that...

BOSS & CODY

They're leaders with different styles, different responsibilities, different crews... and yet they're bonded together like two old men who just met in the power tools aisle...

FIXER TECH

Actually, I headcanon that Fixer is an early bird. It's more likely that someone would tell him to go back to sleep.

Tech on the other hand...

KIX

There aren't a lot of people Kix would listen to if they told him that. Thankfully you're one of them...

[clazaries]

The Thin Line Between Victory and Survival NSFW!

(Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!soldier!reader)

Summary: Having been newly promoted, your first mission with Delta Force goes wrong and you have to deal with the consequences of going against Santiago's orders

w/c: 6.6k

Warnings: NSFW! war environment, slight knife play, masturbation (f!reader), oral (m!receiving), self-edging, orgasm denial, choking, dom!Santi, p in v, slight fluff at the end, think that's everything?

a/n: reader's callsign is 'Midge'. this takes place after the events of triple frontier but where the gang are still active members of Delta Force. I kinda imagined Santiago as Ghost from COD (cos daddy)

ENJOY!

***

“Frankie. Sit rep?”

“ETA 30 seconds. Sit tight.” 

“Rog’.” Santi’s gravelly voice worms its way into your ear in harsh rumbles as you begin to take position at the edge of a sandy cliff, overwatching the vast desert valley ahead of you. His voice shakes the nerves inside you that are already on high alert. You remind yourself to turn down your comms when you can afford the chance. “Midge, how copy?” 

You perk to attention at the sound of your nickname and respond accordingly. “Loud and clear, sir. In position. Eyes on Frankie.” 

Towards the heart of the valley, Frankie’s distant figure calmly approaches the enemy-riddled farm under the cover of darkness and you watch with bated breath through a window of green. Directly ahead of you, even further away on the mirroring side of the valley is your superior Santiago “Pope” Garcia, providing overwatch just as you are. You can’t see him but you know he’s there, like a ghost lurking in the shadows. Even though you are just as concealed as he is, you have this disconcerting feeling that he’s very much capable of plucking you out, watching you.

You readjust yourself nervously.

It’s incredibly dark with nothing but the twinkling stars and Jupiter’s bright sparkle to keep anyone sane. Without the night vision goggles, you are a lost hope. They sit squarely on your nose, grinding the bone and encasing your eyes, and the sweat trickling down your neck is no home comfort either, but now is not the time to be complaining. You have a job to do. 

Having been recently promoted for your sharp shooting and bright mind, you’re no longer an extra in someone else’s play, you’re the real deal now. You’re still taking orders no less, except now word doesn’t have to pass through at least three ranks above you like a game of Chinese Whispers before you receive the order. 

Every mission is different but your response has always been the same: subdued nerves to begin, then before long, you’re in your element and the job gets done. However, this task in particular has your heart beating a little harder and you don’t sense it settling any time soon. The whole mission is unnerving. It’s just you, Frankie and Santiago, sent out into the middle of nowhere to retrieve controls for a weapon that’s been missing from the US government for three years. The very same that is currently being protected and fortified by an armada of Russian extremists. Every minute in between the initial briefing and your current breath has been spent quietly fretting about it.

This mission alone has introduced a lot of firsts for you; first time working with Delta Force rather than for, first time working off the grid, first time working in a squad with fewer than 5 comrades beside you, first time being completely and hopelessly outnumbered…

First time feeling extremely, extremely doubtful. 

“Remember, this is a covert operation and completely off the grid so keep it quiet. Frankie, I want you in and out before they even get a whiff that you were ever there, and Midge--” you gulp, “keep Frankie alive.”

“Yes, sir.” You and Frankie’s voices ring through simultaneously. By now, Frankie has approached the back door of the barren barn, a large building that no doubt houses a number of enemies inside. Through your scope, you witness Frankie infiltrating the barn, his voice verbally confirming it seconds later. “I’m in. Going dark.”

“Copy that.” 

The second you lose sight of him you take a hefty breath, letting it flood your lungs while the waiting game begins. From out here, there’s nothing you can do for him except warn him of any outside movements. As of right now, he’s on his own, doing what he does best. 

“Stay sharp.” 

You keep quiet on your side of comms, too paranoid to risk speaking unnecessarily. Instead, you keep your wits on what’s in front of you. There’s no movement, not even a breath of wind to shake the lonely tree that stands at the far end of the farm and it feels as though time has stood still. If it wasn’t for the mouse scuttling underneath your sniper stand, you would’ve thought so.

The little creature skips and hops over the rocks to your right, stopping every couple of seconds to clean the dust from its ears. Cute. You quirk a smile at the thought of something as simple as a mouse breaking the tension that’s riddling your bones. God knows you need it. Every fibre of your being is buzzing with uncertainty and the heavy nauseating feeling in your stomach is enough of a sign that something about this mission just isn’t right. Some would call it instinct, others would call it a load of rubbish, regardless, the feeling is there and you’re not willing to ignore it. 

In all honesty, you would’ve carried out this mission entirely differently if you had the authority. But that’s the thing. You don’t. Outranked and out-experienced by the two men alongside you, you had no option but to play by their rules. Where you would’ve gone all-in, they chose to keep their cards close to their chests. 

You never agreed with the idea that less is more. Not in the military. 

Ten agonising minutes pass by. Nothing has been said and nothing warrants being said. Everything about you is screaming to point out the obvious; that something clearly isn’t going right. Frankie should’ve been out by now.

“I don’t like this. It’s too quiet. Nothing’s happening.” 

Santiago instantly replies, a slight ring of chagrin evident in his tone. “Good. Means we haven’t been compromised.” 

“Then why isn’t he out?” 

“Patience, Midge. Keep focussed.” 

You’re seconds away from overstepping boundaries and saying something you shouldn’t, but the moment you open your mouth, you spot a black vehicle off in the distance, quickly morphing into view as it speeds across the expanse of the valley with a plume of dust trailing behind it. It’s heading directly towards the farm. 

“Be advised. Vehicle inbound coming in from the north. Pope, you see it?” 

“Affirmative. Six Russians inside and likely armed. Do. Not. Engage. Frankie, get the hell on with it and get those controls.” 

The vehicle approaches and screeches to a stop, the occupants immediately disperse from the vehicle with rifles in hand. Fear shoots through you, wide eyes pinned on the door Frankie entered through, desperate for it to open again and see Frankie escape but alas, no sign of him. “Come on, come on, come on…” 

“Enemies heading towards the front entrance.” 

“I’ve got a shot on two of them.” 

“No. Stand down. Do not engage. They don’t know we’re here, we can’t draw attention to ourselves.” Pope’s voice rages through your earpiece again and you wince, both from his tone and volume. 

“Why the fuck are we here then?” 

“To prevent a ruckus from happening. If we engage, we’ll be the reason for it. Now shut up and keep your eyes peeled. Frankie, for Christ’s sake, you better have those controls.” 

You listen intently for his voice, hoping that he’s succeeded and he’s on his way back, but when you hear a slight crackle, a groan and high-pitched frequency piercing through the comms, you assume the worst. Your heart stops dead in your chest when you hear a shot being fired, its echo carrying the weight of dread right to your position. “Fuck! Santi--” 

“Frankie! Do you copy?” 

Short, resounding booms resonate from the farm and you’re left with no doubt that Frankie’s position has been compromised, leaving his life and the controls to this weapon at stake. You can’t afford to lose both and you’re certain that Pope knows that too, so why isn’t he giving the order for backup? 

“He needs help!” 

“Stay put! I can’t risk losing two of you. This is Pope to Ironhead, how copy?” 

You drown out William’s voice with worries of your own, constantly watching for signs of Frankie’s survival but to no avail, you find none. You knew this mission was never going to succeed. Your instinct was right. And based on that fact alone, what’s to stop you assuming that when your gut instinct is now telling you to go and extract Frankie and the controls yourself, it’s the right decision no matter what your orders are?

“Fuck this.” With haste, you pack up your equipment, whipping it over your shoulder with a new-found surge of adrenaline pumping through you. The hill you’re perched on isn’t tall, but it is steep, so as you run down the slope, your body falls faster than your legs can keep up. The howl of air blows past your ears and the clinking and clanking of your equipment rattles with each step. Even still with the cacophony of sounds, nothing can be louder than your boss’s rage. 

“Midge! What the fuck are you doing? Get back to your position!” 

You don’t bother responding because you’re too out of breath…and mostly because you’re shit scared. When you hear his voice again, you’re at the door Frankie entered through with a shaky hand holding your pistol and the other tightly gripping the handle. 

“Midge, so help me God, if you take another step--” 

“We can’t leave Frankie!”

“We don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“But we know the controls are in there, if we can’t get one, we’ll get the other.”

“NO! You get back here right fucking now!” The scratch of his growl descends down your body, making you curl your toes. Suddenly, a farm full of Russian extremists doesn’t seem to be your biggest threat…

“I’m going in.” 

A grunted sigh crackles through the comms as Pope watches you push through the door into chaos. 

“Just so you know, if you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.” 

~~~~

Miraculously, you did exactly that. You survived. Not only did you extract Frankie’s beaten body and save his life, you also retrieved the controls before they got away. You can’t deny that the odds were slim and it did nearly cost both of your lives, but at the expense of breaking a few rules and a few bones, you made it. And you won’t apologise for a single bit of it sitting here in an unused briefing room with Santiago. 

The tale of twists and turns didn’t end when you and Frankie both made it out alive only hours ago, in fact, it continues with Santi; a man with chains around his heart, a shield around his mind and a look of steel donning his face. It is fair to say his reputation precedes him, especially since his comrade Redfly died years ago. Before you met him officially, you had only ever heard of his emotionless gaze, his inhuman self-restraint and deeply enigmatic personality, and you found it strange that no one told you what it was like to be around him. Until Frankie told you that how you felt being in a room with him could not be explained through words, it was something you had to experience for yourself. 

Frankie was right. You had to be there to see that he was stronger, colder, smarter, more intimidating than anyone had let on. His presence wasn’t one to be easily swallowed. It was obvious that strangers couldn’t settle the unease they felt when he walked into the room; cautious eyes, bitten lips, fidgeting muscles. They succumbed to his eerie, silent domination very quickly. Quicker if those dark eyes were locked on you. They were seared into the back of your mind the moment they landed on you for the first time, remembering how you just couldn’t decipher the encrypted messages they hid. Whoever stated that the eyes were windows to the soul had clearly never met Santiago.

But tonight, that restraint is gone. He is positively seething. Outwardly, publicly, irrationally seething. In the dimly lit room, he stands menacingly in the corner where the light doesn’t quite reach, yet still you can see his knuckles tensing and untensing with each breath he takes. You don’t say a word, quietly picking at the forming scab on your knuckle, and in your head, you speak the words you don’t have the conviction to say out loud. 

“Do you have any idea how fucking reckless you are?” 

You slowly peer up to him, his words still processing as you narrow in on him. “Reckless? With all due respect, my actions saved a man’s life and finished the mission. What part of that is reckless?” 

“The part where you didn’t follow my orders! You went rogue. Off plan. Completely out of line. If you don’t follow orders, you don’t know how it will end. I could’ve lost you both unnecessarily.” 

“Could’ve,” you mutter.

He begins to loom closer, taking every word of yours like they’re a sour taste in his mouth. In muted tones, he whispers out to you. “What?” 

“You said you could’ve lost us both. But you didn’t.” The words feel like liberation. It’s the first time you’ve ever behaved like this. It’s so uncharacteristic but you just feel so insulted by his lack of gratitude or appreciation that anger bubbles inside you, spitting out words that you know you shouldn't, turning you into someone you definitely aren’t. You are usually a rule follower, you are usually obedient, and you usually respect authority, but in the blinding light of anger, you just can’t surrender to Santiago’s discipline so easily. 

“And you should’ve listened to me. But you didn’t. Nobody ever fucking listens to me and they end up dead because of it.” 

“Just because Redfly did, doesn’t mean everyone else will too.”

Low blow, Midge. 

Sensing immediate regret, you keep your eyes firmly pinned on your hands on the table in front of you. Like a dark rain cloud, you catch sight of his shadow engulfing your own. His stature and all-encompassing presence emerges behind you but you don’t dare move a single muscle. His hands curl around the back of the chair you’re sitting in, the pathetic plastic creaking under his fists. The brave front you’re putting on begins to yield to his growing temperament and the facade crumbles piece by piece. 

Everyone in the unit had heard of what happened when a certain team of the Delta Force went rogue. The US Army had never let them live it down since.

He leans his head over your stiff shoulder and you can even feel the heat of his anger just glazing over the shell of your ear. 

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” Santiago spits every word with heavy articulation as if he’s etching the words into your brain. His laboured breathing is a concern, knowing that it’s a warning of the wrath that’s about to ensue. “Redfly didn’t follow my orders to stand down and it inevitably got him killed. And right now, the same might happen to you.”

With a sharp, unexpectant tug of your hair, your head whips back, swinging the chair with you until the overhead light burns into your eyes. Reflexes have your hands gripping the edge of the table until they turn white with tension, stopping yourself from tipping backwards. The sudden blade on your neck stops you moving forward.

“Do you remember what I said to you before you disobeyed me?” 

You remember all too well. If you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.

“You wouldn’t.” 

Santiago presses the blade harder against your skin, unapologetic. “Wouldn’t I?” 

You really don’t know whether to call his bluff but to stay on the safe side you remain silent. Until anything happens, you are both stuck staring into each other’s eyes, holding a resentment none of you are willing to let go of. Looking up at him, it’s obvious that he is teetering on the edge of breaking a few rules himself, allowing the sharp edge of the knife to roll across the expanse of your neck, bobbing as you swallow, until the sharp point rests precariously atop your pulse. But even he knows himself that he wouldn’t follow through with it, because as much as it pains him to admit it, your courageous actions, although downright stupid, did save Frankie’s life and secured the controls. And he fucking hates it. If there was anything he could do to scare the absolute shit out of you to stop you being so smug and defiant about it, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“Santiago,” you warn, just as the point of the knife starts to break through the thin layer of skin on your neck. You try to move your head but he still has his fist entangled through your roots. 

The instant the little whine of his name broke from your lips, something snapped inside him. The desperation of it, it was too provocative for him to ignore and an electrical feeling pulsed from his chest and shot straight towards his dick. Having you in his tight clutches, essentially at his mercy, exacerbated the feeling and suddenly he could feel himself growing hard. Fuck, what was he doing?

It’s perverse of him to want to hear it again, to see those plump but bitten lips of yours say his name again in a plea for his forgiveness. He becomes so fixated on the idea that he gets carried away, pricking your skin with the knife, watching as your eyes widen and your body writhing beneath him. 

“AHH! Pope--fuck--okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry, just…please let go of the knife.” There it was again, the slight twitch in his dick, one that makes him grow uncomfortable beneath his boxers. 

It’s one thing for Pope to be angry, but when lust is thrown into the equation, there’s much less he can do to suppress it and with you still whimpering beneath him, it’s something he’s quickly realised. 

He relieves the pressure of the knife just enough to alleviate the pain but not enough that you haven’t completely escaped its threat. He moves out of your sight, his head dropping lower until his lips are gracing across your ear. You hear nothing but his slow breathing, funnelling down your ear and you instantly shiver. You want to pull away from him but for some reason, you’re chemically drawn into him; his close proximity, the smell of him, the hold he has on you, it’s all so…dangerously alluring. Something changes and the air starts to grow hot. 

“Y’know,” he purrs, “I can’t allow you stay on my team if you can’t listen to my orders--” 

“No! No, I-I want to stay.” 

“How do I know you won’t pull something stupid like this again, hm? You’re still a rookie, you’re not an addition to this team, no, what you are is a liability. Your actions today proved to me that you are just not capable.” 

“I am. I was promoted for a reason.” 

“Yeah? Prove it. Prove you’re capable and I might consider keeping you on my team.” 

“How?” 

“It’s simple,” he says, his lips trailing from your ear to skim across your cheek, just teasing with feather light touches. “Follow…my…orders. Do you understand?” 

Your cheeks are burning, your lungs are heaving, everything about this screams ‘this is a risk you shouldn’t take’. But it’s hard to heed those words when Santiago’s grip of your hair loossens to soothing scalp scratches, when the tips of his lips and his nose brush over your burning cheek, inhaling the scent of you, when your gut is telling you to listen to how tempted your body is, how wanting it is for him. 

Your thighs press together beneath the table. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes…what?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Better. Stand up.” You swing forward so fast that a violent rush of blood to your head almost makes you lose your balance, but Santiago keeps you up with a firm hold to your arm while he casually throws the knife onto the table. He perches himself in front of you to lean against the edge of the table, touching toe-to-toe and holds your gaze; bold, dark brown eyes that give nothing away about the inner workings of his mind. And it’s those same eyes that can read everything about you.

“Nervous, soldier?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“A…A little, sir.” 

“Good, you should be. Take off your top.” 

With those words, you know, that whatever happens from this moment on, Santiago will not be following any official protocol but his own. You do as he says, now feeling the heat of the room touching your bare skin. Santiago admires the way your belt hugs around your waist, waiting for the moment his hands can do the same when he’s fucking you from behind. Your bra is standard, nothing sexy. It’s what he expects on a day you had been on a mission, but what his eyes catch is your nipples pebbling through the material, and the slight blood stain discolouring the straps from the shrapnel wound to your shoulder that he didn’t realise you had. 

“At ease,” he commands. You act on instinct, bracing your hands behind your back with your legs standing shoulders-width apart. The instruction has been ingrained in you since the day you started your training. “You got hurt?”

“Minor wounds.” 

“Wounds you wouldn’t have had if you had listened to me.”

Fluttering warmth spreads from your core the moment Santiago cups your breast, your nipple weaving through his fingers and caught in a tight pinch. When you don’t react, he peers up at you to engage in a wordless conversation that both are in tune with. Keep going? Yes. He brings his other hand up to mirror the other and this time he finally elicits a small, but audible sigh from you. 

It’s been so long since you’ve had anyone like this, even longer for Santiago. His failures to locate his old contact Yovanna in Australia broke him and since then, he had sworn off getting close with anyone for fears of time repeating itself. As for you? You had yet to claim anyone as your own. Sure, you’ve had a few romances over the years but no one had ever satisfied you in the sick, slightly twisted way you were searching for. Up until now, you didn’t think there was a man out there who was interested in the same things you were. You didn’t think they existed.

Until you met Santiago. He is a thrill personified. 

It was impossibly cruel that the world had dealt you this hand; to fantasise over the ways his gravelly voice could murmur the dirtiest, filthiest things to you, the ways his experienced hands could ruin with the slightest of touches. However, you always knew that professionalism and the dangers of your line of work would always take priority over your fantasies, and you forced yourself out of your fictional world to come face to face with the harsh reality of war. It was a miracle how you were able to survive this long without going absolutely feral, but now, with Santiago losing his patience too, you’re starting to think that you won’t last much longer. 

“So fucking reckless,” he whispers, a reminder for both you and himself. His brow dips when his frustration rolls back in its tide, keeping that stone-cold expression hard on his face. It’s slightly different though. His parted lips, his vigorous movements, the slight pant to his breath. In your eyes, it all points towards desire more than frustration. “As your superior…” His voice is somehow quieter, but it’s heard all the same, “it’s my responsibility to punish you, to teach you a lesson about discipline. You need to learn that when I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. You understand?” 

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck fluidly, your hands itching to wipe it away but obedience locks them behind your back. Suddenly, he snaps forward, his hand coming to snatch your jaw and force you to look him in the eyes. The precision of his quick movements makes you flinch, trapping a breath in your lungs and he notices, lips curling momentarily. 

“Yes, sir!”

Shivers follow wherever his other hand roams. He moulds out the shape of your waist and hips, squeezing tighter than your belt ever could. He begins to unbuckle your belt with little regard, popping the button of your trousers and bursting the zip to admire the way your trousers hang loosely from your hips. Everything inside you tenses at the sudden exposure.

Santiago begins toying with you, running his knuckles lightly over the edge of your underwear, dipping just the tip of his finger beneath the elastic rim, but retreats just as quickly. He follows the line of your navel, travelling up and up to trace small ghostly circles around your ribcage and it takes everything in you not to shudder. Your body can’t quite figure out how to tune into him, the stark contrast between the harsh grip he has on your jaw and the fluttering touches to your body has your mind going crazy and it’s mildly disorientating. 

His thumb circles around your chin before resting upon your bottom lip, pulling it out into a pout for his eyes to fixate on. He has that expression on his face that you’ve seen before; determined and fully resolute. The features of a man with authority. 

“That mouth…” he pants, “‘s gotten you into trouble today.” He draws you in until the tips of your noses clash and he’s a hair’s breadth away from kissing you. Instead…“I want to fuck it. Get on your knees, soldier.”

Your knees collide the cold surface of the ground almost instantly much to his pleasure. He wastes no time undoing his belt as efficiently as he did yours, and before too long the tip of his lengthy cock replaces where his thumb was just seconds before, wet with little beads of cum. Your hands reach out to guide him into your mouth but he snatches your wrist before you can commit. 

“Nuh-uh, this one’s for you. If you have some semblance of discipline, you’ll cum only when I say.”

You nod, falsely, and promptly take him into your mouth with one hand at the base of his cock while the other slips beneath your underwear and swirls around your clit the way you know best. A strangled groan leaves his throat and you feel the vibrations of it with the way his cock twitches in your mouth. The same pleasure buzzes in you, spreading warmth from your stomach down to your cunt. 

Despite having eventually found a rhythm that you can settle into, bobbing your head and taking as much of him as you can, you can’t find balance. Your multitasking skills have taken a hit because as soon as you feel the tight pinch of pleasure erupting from your clit, you know you can’t succumb to it and just like that, all your focus and effort turns to pleasuring him and the feeling dissipates. It’s torturous having to edge yourself, it’s not something you are particularly well-versed in. 

“So good, so fucking good,” he praises. Santiago’s hands come to scrape through your hair and take control, causing you to move faster and suck him down even harder, so much that you have to plant your other hand against his thigh to regain balance, going against his orders. He notices and chastises you. “Get that fucking hand back where it should be.” 

A moan gargles from your throat, a lack of patience wearing you thin. It doesn’t help that you’re incredibly turned on by the whole situation and you’re hesitant to touch yourself because of it, unsure how much more you can take before yet another one of Santi’s orders is disobeyed. So you take it slow, lazily circling around your bud just enough to keep you satiated while you occupy yourself with Santiago. Your mouth detaches from him with a pop, using those tear-stained eyes of yours to silently beg for his own release in exchange for your own but his head is thrown back and takes no notice, indulging in the way your tongue swirls around his tip. Just the sight of the vein popping from his neck is enough to send a rush of lust to mount up onto the orgasm that’s impatiently waiting. Fuck, you really need to cum. 

What gets his attention is your needy little whine. A whine that warns you both that you’re on the precipice of cumming, that if you pressed any harder on your sensitive clit you would combust. Your thighs are almost rattling beneath you.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns in a low growl, thrusting into your wet mouth and straight to the back of your throat. “Don’t you disobey me.” 

“I can’t hold on,” you splutter. 

“You can and you will. Fuuuck…” 

Decidedly, your hand comes to a halt because after all, this is about discipline, right? It’s all about being able to control yourself, to place your trust in him and listen to what he says hoping that it will all pay off. 

You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto your hand, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens. 

Santiago leans forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath, but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you proved yourself. 

“Fucking hell,” Santiago pants. His grip loosens around you and you suck down a large breath as he releases you. The instant your lips are free, he forces you to a stand and claims them, humming into them with hunger. He slips his tongue past your lips searching for a taste of himself on you with a delectable moan. It only takes him a couple of seconds of clawing at your waist before his hand slips beneath your underwear to feel the result of your constant edging; a wet cunt that’s pleading for relief. The slightest touch of his fingers has your hips buckling, you’re so close it hurts. 

“So wet. So needy.”

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. You want it, you need it, you can’t live without it, for god sake, please!

“Yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “On whose authority?”

“Santiago, please.” 

“I told you this is about discipline and listening to orders--” his fingers drill into your clit with absolute precision and immediately takes control of your pleasure, luring it to the surface. “Did I say you could cum?” 

“No, but--” 

“Then you can’t. Have the discipline to stop it.” 

“Fuck!” Just seconds away from orgasm, you drop to a crouch, his hand slipping from you in one fluid movement. So close, so fucking close. 

Santiago maniacally chuckles above you. He has little sympathy for you hunched on the ground reeling into yourself, but what he does have though, is just a little pride. Pride that you listened, that you obeyed no matter how desperate you were to go against his word. Because, of course, in Santiago’s eyes, his word overrules everyone else’s. His word is gospel. What he says goes. 

You don’t get to relish the pride he has for you because you are spiralling. Your shaking body can’t allow you to stand knowing that even the slightest friction of anything against your clit would set you off and you’ve done so well to abide by his rules, you wouldn’t want to ruin it.

Santiago’s hand comes to stroke the back of your head in a supportive manner to find that you’re burning up. It’s obvious that you need release and that resides with him. 

“Stand up.”

“I…I don’t think I can.” 

“Come on,” he demands, his tone a little harsher. “Stand up and put your hands on the table.”

Shaky legs raise you to your feet and you brace yourself against the hard wooden table, the cold surface just a slight relief to the fire raging through your body. Santiago teases down your trousers leaving your panties to feel the brush of his hips against your ass, giving you a large hint of what’s to come. Your stomach plummets at the thought of having to hang onto the precipice for any longer. You could cry at the thought, tears ready and waiting behind your eyes. 

“Good girl,” he whispers seductively. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So desperate for release that just one--” he lightly brushes your clit through your underwear, “little--” he does it again and you judder, “touch will set you off.” 

Jesus, you could cry. You could cry and cry and cry, and beg for forgiveness, yield and submit yourself completely to him for the one second of pure bliss you’re starving for. He’s reduced you to nothing but a licentious and needy beggar you don’t recognise. 

“How much longer can you last?” He knows, but it pleases him to ask anyway. 

“I’ll break if you touch me.”

“Perfect.” 

Wicked hands and fast reflexes rip your drenched underwear from you and Santiago mercilessly drills his cock straight into you. The second you feel him fill you up, one hand comes to encircle your neck, closing off your oxygen while his fingers find your clit once again and with just a few devious laps around your clit, you explode. A blinding light flashes behind your eyes and your body becomes engulfed by a white-hot pain that ironically, freezes you to the spot. Santiago growls loudly behind you, feeling how your pussy clenches so tightly around him that he’s barely spared an inch to move, but his fingers don’t face the same challenge and are still effortlessly ruining you to the core. There’s a pathetic attempt from you to remove his hand but his persistence remains far superior. 

Santiago relieves the pressure on your throat to hear you sing for him. You’re thankful the walls are thick enough to contain your cries. 

The thing is, Santiago knew you were close, but what he didn’t anticipate was how close he was too, especially so soon after you sucked him dry. With how intensely your pussy milks him of everything he has, it takes less than a few forceful thrusts before he succumbs to his orgasm and collapses on top of you. It washes over him hard, electrocuting every nerve and filling every pore with sweat. Fuck, he thinks, haven’t felt this good in years. 

Warmth envelopes you both, eyes fluttering to a close with the liberating feeling of release. Santiago, having just a little more sanity than you do, still has enough energy to lazily work his hips back and forth, fucking you so slowly and deeply, you think it might just trigger another explosion. Alas, he spares you the burden and finally comes to rest against you. 

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time the heat dwindles and air returns to your lungs. During the quiet minutes that pass, euphoria eases into your muscles, massaging out the cramp and any discomfort of your desperate attempts to contain your orgasm. The soft, grounding kisses that Santiago leaves at the nape of your neck seem to have a similar effect and you hum contentedly. 

“I mean it, by the way,” Santiago mutters behind you, still brushing his lips against your skin. “You really could’ve gotten yourself killed today.” His fingers trace down your shoulder, gently running across the bandage that covers your shrapnel wounds to reinforce his point. 

You sigh. “I know.” 

You feel him leave you, alleviating his weight and dressing himself. “Look at me.” 

You’re just about able to turn yourself around, and with Santiago’s help, he dresses you too. Once decent, the very hands that ruined you come to clamp against your cheeks, far too delicate for what you had known them to be. “What you did today was out of line—” 

This again. “But Frankie--” 

“Frankie is a different story. His mission to infiltrate the barn and receive the controls meant that the chances of him dying was a lot higher than ours. And even though it’s a fucking bastard of a pill to swallow, it’s just one of those things that we all have to come to terms with. I went into this mission already prepared to accept the possibility of his death should anything go wrong. Yours I wasn’t willing to accept.” 

“But I didn’t die.” 

“You’re not getting it.” His words are spat through gritted teeth and something in you sinks at the disappointment. The only thing that seems to calm him down is the sensation of your forehead against his, proof that you are alive. “Frankie’s death would’ve hurt, yes, but like I said, I would’ve seen it coming. If you expect disappointment, you won’t get disappointed. But when you threw yourself into the firing line like that, you started playing a game of Russian Roulette. Neither of us knew whether you were going to live or die and I panicked. I was so scared, terrified even at the thought of losing you because I knew I would never be able to recover from it. Your death, your untimely, unprecedented death under my watch would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life. That’s the difference between you and Frankie. That’s the lesson you need to learn from this.” 

Your eyebrows crunch together, feeling stupid for not coming to the realisation sooner. You feel embarrassed to admit that you had never thought of it like that. 

A long silence fills the room because you’re not too sure how to put the feeling of heavy regret into words, none of them justifiable enough to convey even a hint of the remorse that you feel inside. The fact that you refuse to look Santiago in the eyes is proof enough to him that you’re aware of the mistake you made, and instead of looking for a response, he settles for your silence and simply brushes his thumb across the highs of your cheek.

“Just promise me you won’t do it again, no matter how immoral it seems, no matter whose life is at stake, please, if at all possible, keep yourself safe.” 

“I promise.” 

He brings his lips to yours, melting them together in a kiss as though it is his last. “Good,” he smiles lightly, sealing the lesson with a kiss to your forehead. “I…I might’ve gotten carried away trying to get that message to sink in.” 

For the first time in a while, you smile. “It’s okay. I’ve definitely learned my lesson not to piss you off.” 

“Hmm, keep your promise and stay alive long enough and you’ll find out what the reward is.” 

[thelazybard]

I'm not sure if you know anything about Delta Squad. But perhaps can I request Bad Batch x Fem Padawan reader who was first adopted by Delta Squad and when order 66 happened she was recused by Bad Batch, after attempting to use the force to stop them from harming her.

DELTA SQUAD MENTION RAAAAH!!

What a great first request!

This is gonna be a long one so buckle in

F!Reader x Bad Batch: Being saved from Order 66

warnings: Order 66, slight canon divergence, character death, Crosshair never follows Order 66, betrayal, angst, hurt/comfort, use of force speed because why did we never see that after Episode One, light fluff

This can't be happening.

What was even happening?

One second you and Delta Squad are on Kaller celebrating the death of General Grievous and the seeming end of the Clone War. The next, you're running as fast as you can, as far as you can, away from your squad; your family, who are now doing everything they can to find and destroy you.

You were Master Shaak Ti's padawan, and once helped her oversee the prowess of the clone army. But soon the war effort called you off-world to lead a special force of clone commandos. Master Shaak saw this as a way to know for certain if you were ready to be Knighted, since you were an adult now.

Boss, Scorch, Sev, and Fixer were apart of Delta Squad, and looked to you for guidance as their Commander. It was unnerving at first, being away from your master's calming presence and not being able to seek her guidance at a moment's notice.

But, you eventually proved your worth as a commander, and soon a knight. At least you would have if there was an Order to return to after this last mission.

You will never forget, Sev was the first to draw his rifle on you. At first you thought it was some distasteful joke. You weren't a stranger to your squad's pranks.

But when you sensed his index finger curl, and heard the faintest tick of his trigger being drawn back, you couldn't help the reflex of igniting your saber and swinging the blaster bolt back into your opponent's shoulder.

Sev had cried out, and even to this day his cry echos through your mind in the late of night.

Then the others drew your weapons and that's when you ran. You refused to fight them. Not because you couldn't, but because you wouldn't. They were your friends, your brothers. You lead them through their first campaign on Geonosis, laughed with them, cried with them. Celebrated victories and healed their wounds.

Clone Force 99 found you cornered between Delta Squad and the icy canyon below the ridge you stood on.

"Just stay back! Please!" You pleaded, lightsaber drawn and eyes glossed over with tears. You weren't in fear for yourself, but instead afraid of what you'd have to do to ensure your survival.

They weren't speaking to you. Why weren't they speaking to you?

"We've got her now, boys. Open fire on the target." Boss said to his brothers.

It was with those words that it was finally able to register in your head.

Something definitely happened, that was for certain. They were given orders from someone that superseded you. If that was the case, nothing you could say or do would stop them from completing their mission. You damned their unwavering loyalty before you sprung into action.

You'd always held back when sparring with your brothers. You were quicker, stronger, and could see their moves before they made them. You never let them win, only kept up with them until they grew tired, which granted took a while. But now it was life or death, you understood that now as you sliced their rifles in half, blocked their punches and parried their melee attacks before even they knew what they were moving to do.

The Batch watched the scene unfold from the treeline, still unsure of whose side they should be taking. Echo advocated stepping in right away on your behalf, but the jury was still out with the rest. Besides, it didn't look like you needed help.

Nothing like this has ever happened before. The Jedi were trustworthy, no? Especially the padawan of Shaak Ti.

They knew you in passing. You've interacted with the batch a few times, usually just accompanying Shaak Ti during their assessments. The Batch teased each other for their crush on you, and had taken every chance they could to pass you in the sterile hallways on Kamino. Now, that beautiful, calming padawan was fighting for her life.

In this moment you were other-worldly. It was nearly impossible for the batch to keep track of your form weaving through the four supersoldiers, blocking their attacks as you still clung to hope they'd come to their senses.

"She's not just killing them." Crosshair said.

"She doesn't want to." Echo replied.

Hunter had heard through the grapevine of padawan Ahsoka's alleged treason, that was later learned to be false. Could it be the same, here?

When Hunter finally finished mulling it over and called for CF-99 to aid you, they dove through the shrubs to stun your opponents while their attention was still fixated on you.

You watched in shock as Delta Squad's bodies crumbled to the ground around you, not realizing what happened until you saw the clones at the treeline.

"Commander," Hunter greeted you, worry wrinkling his brow.

"Sergeant. They tried to kill me! What is happening?" You asked.

"That's what we're trying to find out. But it isn't safe for you here."

"It doesn't appear it is safe for her anywhere," Tech interjected, eyes fixated on his datapad. "It says here the Jedi Order had commit treason against the Republic, and we are to eliminate all targets under Order 66."

"Treason? The entire Jedi Order? What could be the... Fives!" You breathed, your fingers draping over your mouth.

"Fives what?" Echo asked.

"He tried to warn me about a plot against the Jedi. I wanted to believe him, but before he could prove it he was–" You sighed and shook your head, sheathing your saber so you could dig the heels of your palms into your temples as the world you once knew was flipped upside down.

"We have to get you out of here. If the other clones planetside know you're here they'll try to..." Hunter said.

"I understand. It seems I will have to–" You nearly doubled over as an unfamiliar senstation dug through you like a vibroblade.

The tether between you and Shaak Ti was severed. She was killed.

You regained your footing with the help of Wrecker who steadied you.

"Master Ti. They- they killed her."

Hunter sensed regs closing in on your location. "Come on. We have to go, now!" He barked.

Running alongside the batch, tears streamed across your cheeks as you grappled with the fact that Master Ti, the woman who raised you, taught you, protected you, was cut down and you weren't there to stop it. Or at least die with her.

You boarded the Maurader and Echo helped you into a seat as you were overcome with emotions. Emotions you were taught to supress spilled out of you with the wound Shaak Ti's death left. Your shoulders quivered as you sobbed softly to yourself.

You were sad, angry, and scared.

"Take me to the nearest planet that doesn't have a Republic nor Separatist occupation," You finally said when the tears subsided. "I can't return to Kamino. I must hide until I figure out what is happening."

Tech nodded before keying in coordinates and making the jump to hyperspace. It would be a few days before you arrived, so it was time to get comfortable with your company.

Hunter:

The Clone Sergeant didn't know what to say to you for the first few hours.

Partly because he'd never conversed with you one-on-one and was nervous to talk to the pretty Jedi that was the object of his affections for the past few years.

Your entire squad just betrayed you. He couldn't imagine how that must feel. He didn't want to.

At first, every time he looked at you he was reminded of his greatest fear, and couldn't face it.

Eventually he decided he had to say something, gazing at your form curled up in a seat, seeming far away.

It wasn't until Crosshair literally shoved him in your direction did he finally approach you.

"Uhh, Commander... I... can't imagine what you're going through right now. If you need anything, let me know, yeah?" He asked.

"Thank you," You replied, voice small and strained now as you try to grapple your emotions.

"And, for what it's worth... You fought well. I think Delta Squad is lucky to have such a commander. I'm sorry they betrayed you. You won't get that from us."

You smiled at him and his heart stopped.

He wasn't sure of where you'd end up after they took you somewhere safe, but he was determined to cross paths with you again.

Echo:

Echo has the most experience out of the batch when it comes to working with Jedi. He understood their overall nature; Kind, calm, wise.

You were no different. It's why he was picking his brain for any reason clones would be ordered to murder you.

Echo knew you before his accident. It was your faith in him and the rest of Domino Squad that drove him to work together with his team. He'd been smitten with you ever since.

"Are you alright?" He asked, coming to sit across from you.

You looked up at him, and his chest tightened as the two of you made real, undivided eye contact with each other for the first time in years. Your eyes were wiser now, even while saddened.

"I'm... shaken. And trying to cope with the fact that I will have to leave everything I've known if it means I'll survive."

"You've still got us," Echo offered. "We don't really know what's going on either, but you can trust us. You can trust me."

"Thank you, Echo."

"Anytime. I... appreciate, all you've done for me and my brothers in the past. It's the least I can do for you now."

You reached over to touch his hand that rested in his lap, and he only froze a little. The look you then gave him when your eyes met again was a look he'd never soon forget.

Wrecker:

After a day of being on the Maurader with you, Wrecker knew he wanted to cheer you up. But he wasn't sure how.

He started with offering you his favorite flavor of ration bar, which you politely declined. Not much of an appetite.

Nodding, he left and returned with Lula, making her dance around you as he hummed a tune, and eventually bonked you on the head with the plushie to provoke a laugh.

His brothers told him to leave you alone but you assured them it was fine.

You liked Wrecker. He was silly and said what was on his mind.

His humorous way of cheering you up seemed to be working.

He crouched down to your level, looking up at you to meet your eyes and smiled. "C'mon Commander, let's hear that pretty laugh." He said.

He thinks it's pretty?

You thought back to your handful of interactions, and found you had chuckled a few times here and there.

This encouraged a soft giggle out of you.

"Thank you, Wrecker. I really needed that."

"Anytime, Commander."

Tech:

Tech has never seen anyone cry before. Not really, anyways.

He's seen people cry in the holofilms, and knew it was something you did when you were sad.

But Clones were in many ways emotionally stunted, even moreso Tech.

So watching you cry, well... it stirred something in his chest he'd never quite felt before.

He knew you were sad, that much was clear.

But how do you comfort someone who's crying!

"Don't fret. Your tears are simply a pathological response made to relieve some of the traumatic stress you may be feeling." Tech explained sagely as he sat beside you.

"That's... good to know, Tech. Thank you."

He then passed you a ration bar. "Here you must eat. You will need your Jedi strength."

His unconventional way of displaying his affection was oddly charming. Doting on you like a mother hen while also explaining the science behind your emotions in painful detail to alleviate your worry.

Crosshair:

You'd always seen through Crosshair's stoic, brooding demeanor.

You knew there was a storm of thoughts and feelings swirling around that noodle of his.

There was so much he was thinking at any point in time, so much he could say.

And he knew you knew. Everytime you two locked eyes, he felt you looking right through him into something more than what met the eye.

It was unnerving. He didn't like being seen in that way. Mostly because he didn't know what it'd entail.

Your eyes were duller now after what transpired, like you yourself had built up your walls into your own psyche.

It was like a thorn in his heart, not being able to see you like he did. So that's what it felt like.

He wanted to be let in.

"Need an ear?" He offered when it was just you two aboard the ship.

He didn't mean to startle you right as you exited the refresher after your sonic shower, but it was on his mind since he saw you disappear to freshen up.

"What?" You said, eyes alert suddenly.

"If you need to talk, I'll listen." He reiterated more clearly this time.

You looked down, shoulders shrugging weakly. "I'm not even sure what I want to say that would help."

He nodded his head in the direction of the cockpit and you followed him to sit in the pilot chairs.

"Maybe it won't fix anything, but it will at least be off your chest."

You exhaled through your mouth, then nodded.

"I just can't believe... I was close to them. They were my brothers. I thought that no matter what, they wouldn't..." You began.

Cross listened intently to your grievances, nodding to let you know he was listening, humming occasionally. Finding out more about your personality in the process.

Finally, when you couldn't find anything else to add, you wiped your tears and sat back, sighing deeply.

He was right, it at least helped with the cinderblock weight on your chest grief gave you.

"Thank you, Crosshair." You said.

He looked into your orbs, then to the swirl of blue and white that was hyperspace. "Get some rest. You can have my bunk, I changed the linens this morning." He said.

Sorry if this took too long, I just really liked this idea and the words came spilling out.

[demxters]

—LOVING YOU IS THE ANTIDOTE

frat!jake seresin x f!reader

dagger squad college!au

summary: you didn’t like jake seresin. you tolerated him. if you hadn’t befriended bradley bradshaw, you wouldn’t have given him the time of day. he was everything you weren’t. delta chi’s golden boy, popular, desirable, and a charmer. you did not like jake seresin. so why did it hurt when he didn’t want you?

wc: a monstrous 8.6k

warning(s): 18+, fem!reader, no y/n (reader goes by nickname ace), mentions of sex/hookups, alcohol and drinking, weed (briefly mentioned), self deprecating thoughts, jake is lowkey an asshole, and language

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!

Whoever said group projects got easier in college don’t know what they’re talking about. If anything, group projects were the bane of your existence—the reason why you considered dropping out every semester. Being in your third year, you were just barely surviving the group project epidemic. This semester, however, had you at your wits end. All because of a stupid assigned group project.

You had an affinity for being a perfectionist. You were all work and no play. While many of your peers thought it was infuriating, you saw it as your best feature. You got things done. You couldn’t say the same for everyone else. A stick in the mud, a hardass, whatever they chose to call you didn’t matter at the end of the day.

“I’m telling you Nat, they’re imbeciles. The entire time we were exchanging contact information, I thought my head was going to explode from the idiocy spewing from their mouths.” Sitting in the busy dining hall, you rant to your best friend Natasha Trace of the absolute horrors of group mates you’ve been given for this assignment.

You met Natasha at a student mixer in your first year of university. The two of you hit it off immediately from bonding over your tastes for cheesy romance novels and an overly concerning obsession for Dr. Pepper and Smarties. Since then, you two became thick as thieves and haven’t looked back since. 

“Maybe you’re being a little too quick to judge,” Nat counters, playing on the remaining peas on her plate with her fork. “You haven’t even given ‘em a chance yet.” That was Natasha for you, ever the voice of reason for your dislike of any person who wasn’t the three you were friends with. 

You roll your eyes and cross your arms across your chest with a pout. “If you met them, I bet you would be saying the exact same thing. Besides, they’re frat guys. Isn’t that reason to hate them enough?” 

“Why didn’t you lead with that? What’re their names? We can get Mickey to stalk them on Instagram or something.” Her eyes light up at the idea. She doesn’t even give you the chance to answer as she pulls out her phone, no doubt to text Mickey if he could do her a favor. 

Mickey Garcia was another one of those close friends of yours. You met him at a Halloween Party where he showed up dressed as Poe Dameron from the later Star Wars movies. Your affinity for Star Wars and a love for Oscar Isaac drew you to him, eventually earning him the affectionate nickname of Fanboy. You introduced him to Natasha and the rest was history. 

You swat at her hand, silently telling her to drop her phone. “No. We are not stalking them on Instagram.” 

The sound of her text tone going off makes you groan. “Too late. Mick already said he’d do it. So, what are their names?” 

You shovel another spoonful of mashed potatoes into your mouth before begrudgingly responding. “Bradley and Jake.” Their names taste like acid in your mouth. So what if you were being a little too quick to judge? You’ve done enough group projects to know this would end up being yet another you would be doing all by yourself. 

Natasha’s quiet as she types up their names and sends them back to Mickey. Barely five minutes passes when she receives a response back. “Is this them?” She shows you her screen and at this point, you’ve learned not to question how Mickey could have possibly found them in the sea of Jake and Bradleys that go to your university–let alone pick out the right ones. You nod and she laughs, scrolling through her phone before moving to the seat next to you. “What did I tell you? He found their Instagram, Twitter, and Tinder profiles! God bless, Mickey Garcia.” 

You push your head against hers, curiosity killing all resolve you had of not caring. The two of you go through their Instagrams and tagged posts like you were reading the morning paper. There wasn’t anything too surprising about them. It was everything you would expect from a twenty something year old guy in a college fraternity. You hated to admit, however, that they were attractive. You were probably too irritated in class to pay attention to how good looking they are. But that doesn’t dismiss the fact that you were still dreading to work with the two. 

“See?” You tell Natasha, motioning to the photo she has pulled up of Bradley on one of his fishing trips. “They are grade-A assholes. Everything about them screams douchebag.” 

“You gotta admit, they’re hot,” she breathes and you smack her on the shoulder. 

“Natasha Monica Trace!” 

Nat shoves you back before shrugging. “What? Don’t you agree?” 

“Of course I do, but may I remind you that looks do not equal brains.” You snatch the phone from her grasp and exit out of Instagram. 

Nat places a gentle hand on the crook of your elbow, noticing the tension in your body. “Just give them a chance, babe. What’s the worst that could happen?” 

_______

You didn’t think it was possible to be friends, let alone acquaintances with Delta Chi’s favorite heartbreakers. Three months and two parties later, you found yourself tolerating your fellow project partners. Then the impossible happened. Bradley Bradshaw and Jake Seresin proved your first impression of them wrong. Well, Bradley did. Jake was the preppy douchebag you suspected him to be. He sat back while Bradley and you pulled his weight. You hated him and his dimpled, Hollywood smile. You hated those lips that knew exactly what to say to get anyone in a three foot radius on their knees. Not to mention those annoyingly green eyes of his. 

Once the project was complete you thought you’d never have to interact with them ever again. Oh, how wrong you were. If only you hadn’t offered up your apartment to complete the assignment. Then they wouldn’t have met Nat, Mickey, and Bob. They wouldn’t have invited them to their stupid frat party. You wouldn’t have been forced to see them outside of scheduled study time and your friends wouldn’t have fallen perfectly in line with theirs. 

Though you will admit, they weren’t all bad. Surprisingly, you actually appreciated most of their company. Underneath Bradley’s frat boy personality, was a secretly brainy political science major and one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. His other friends, both from Delta Chi, also became fast additions to your little group. Javy Machado and Reuben Fitch were charmers and they knew it. But they were kind and didn’t have an obnoxiously large ego that most frat boys had. 

You loved them all, but you couldn’t stand Jake Seresin. No matter how badly he tried to get on your good side, you wouldn’t have it. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of being another person to fall victim to his charm. 

“Well Ace, you’ve somehow managed to ruin the fun. Again,” Jake deadpans from where he sits across from you at the coffee table. He bet that you couldn’t beat him at a round of chess. You took that challenge and beat him in three rounds. 

A smug smile overcomes your features as you get up from your criss-crossed position and do a little happy dance at Jake’s obvious disappointment. “Snooze, you lose, Hangman.” 

He groans at the appointed nickname you gave him two weeks into knowing him. Jake had been bragging about his latest sexual escapades and Bradley said something along the lines of him leaving his catch of the day hanging, disappearing before morning. The nickname stuck and became universally used within your friend group. 

You miss the slight upward tug of his lips when you turn around and head to the kitchen to grab another bottle of water. 

Bob, who had been observing each match and quietly serving as referee, broke Jake out of his reverie. “You went easy on her.” 

Jake avoids Bob’s inquisitive stare and focuses on the faded chessboard. “No I didn’t.” 

“Yes you did,” he quips, matter of factly. “I’ve seen you play against Bradley. You’re better than that.” 

“Well, maybe I didn’t want her to feel bad for losing,” He shrugs, nonchalantly. 

“Or maybe you just like seeing her win.” 

Jake chucks the pillow he was sitting on at Bob, quickly shutting him up with a squeak. You make your way back to the table, eyeing the two boys at their strange behavior. “You up for one more round, Seresin?” 

He checks his watch. “Can’t. Have a thing with Sarah tonight.” 

The information makes your heart drop just a little bit in your chest, but you regain your composure. You clear your throat and harden your features. “Oh. Have fun at your…thing.” He didn’t have to tell you it was a hookup for you to know it was a hookup. He had “things” every week, which is why you didn’t understand why this time hurt you just a little more. 

The room is silent after Jake leaves with you washing the dishes while Bob sits and reads on the couch. You anxiously looked to the clock that was incessantly ticking away on the wall, desperate for Natasha to get home. You loved Bob, but right now you needed to have some girl talk. 

You exasperatedly sigh, harshly wiping your palms on the dish rag on your shoulder. 

Bob hums, silently questioning what the matter was. 

“Did Nat say when she was coming home?” You throw the rag on the counter and plop yourself down beside him. “I tried texting her but she hasn’t responded.” 

Bob thinks for a minute, then responds, “Nope.” 

“Well how long is it gonna take her to run this damn errand?” 

One thing about Bob: he was a shit liar. The tips of his ears immediately got red and his blue eyes never had the guts to meet those he was lying to. 

“Bob…” You scoot closer to him, noticing the tell tale signs of his dishonesty. 

“What?” His voice cracks and so does his last bit of dignity. 

“When’s Natasha coming home?” 

One look into your narrowed eyes is all it takes to have Bob breaking his resolve. “Alright, fine. She said she was going to be out past dinner.” 

“Why?” 

The frown on your face almost breaks his heart. “She–well…” He hated lying to you, especially when you looked at him like that. Your little pout and wide eyes had him cursing silently. “She went on a date.” 

“Oh.” Your brows screw up in confusion. “Then why didn’t she just tell me?” 

Bob cringes. “Don’t tell her I told you, otherwise she will kill me.” 

You hold your pinky out to him with a small smile. He links his with yours and the two of you press a soft kiss to your fisted hands before pulling away. 

“Alright, fine. She didn’t tell you because she’s going on a date with Javy,” he rushes out. 

You blink, processing the information. You and Nat told each other everything. Why did she feel the need to hide this from you? You voice your thoughts out loud and Bob shakes his head. 

“She thought you were gonna blow up at her for going out with him. You know, because he’s Jake’s best friend and all.” Bob watches you cautiously. Your temper was unpredictable sometimes. One second you would be fine and the next you would be blowing your top off. He wasn’t sure which side of you he was going to get this time. 

A sniffle leaves you and you wipe at your nose with the back of your hand. “Why would I get mad at her for that?” 

“Because you haven’t had the kindest of opinions towards women who date frat guys, especially Delta Chi ones.” 

You vaguely recall that conversation. You had called those women “airheads who are addicted to sex.” But you didn’t mean it. You were drunk and bitter about the fact that you were in your third year of college and still single. Had you known Nat wanted to go out with Javy, you would’ve kept your big mouth shut. “But I like Javy,” is all you can say. 

Bob nods. “Yeah, but you hate Jake.” 

Your gaze snaps back to him. “So?” 

“So, she thought going out with him was like… I don’t know. Fraternizing with the enemy?” 

“But Javy’s my friend. I don’t care about how close he is to Hangman. He isn’t like him,” you huff. Pulling your knees to your chest, you take a deep breath. “If he makes her happy then…she should go out with him. I just wish she told me.” 

Bob wraps his arm around you, tugging you so your head could rest on his shoulder. He knew there was more to this than you let on. But he let it slide, choosing to comfort you in your conflicted feelings. “When Nat gets home, you should tell her that.” “I will,” you murmur into the fabric of his sweatshirt. 

He presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “Good.” 

It’s at that moment that the apartment door swings open, revealing Mickey with Jake in tow. Your head snaps up and you see Jake standing there with his mouth agape. 

Mickey nods at you and Bob in quick greeting before pointing a thumb at the man behind him. “Idiot forgot his jacket again. It’s a good thing he caught me in the parking lot.” 

You laugh awkwardly, stiffening in Bob’s hold. 

You feel his arm drop from around your shoulder as he clears his throat, looking away from Jake. 

“Sorry,” Jake’s voice is rough and there’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite place. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

Bob waves him off. “It’s all good. You weren’t interrupting anything. Right, Ace?” 

You can only nod dumbly, still not taking your eyes off of Jake’s vibrant green. 

Jake clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Alright. Well, thanks again for letting me in, Mick. I’ll um, catch you guys later I guess.” He steals one last look of you snugly wrapped up in Bob before rushing out the door with a small shake of his head. 

Jake doesn’t speak to you for a week after that.

_______

The tune of Slow Ride hits your ears and you groan into your cup. Bradley looks at you in amusement from where you sit beside him on the stairs. The boys had decided to unwind from yet another stressful week with yet another Delta Chi party. You were pretty adamant on sitting this one out, mainly because you didn’t want to see Jake or his new conquest of the week. Things have been tense to say the least. The fact that you and Jake didn’t get along wasn’t new to the group, however as the days passed, your nonstop bickering eventually turned to tolerance for one another. Enough to almost say the two of you were even becoming friends. 

Jake still annoyed you to your core but his company somehow managed to grow on you. Which is why his sudden radio silence upset you. It got to the point that you couldn’t even look at him without seeing red. 

“This is stupid,” you grumble, taking another swig of the cheap beer in your cup. You hated these parties. Normally, your friends wouldn’t mind you opting out to stay home instead. However Nat had noticed how your sour mood progressed throughout the week and concluded that you needed to get out to places that weren’t the lecture halls. She begged you to come with her to the party Delta Chi was throwing this weekend. For me? she pleaded, knowing just how much you hated saying no to her. Now that you were here, you longed to be back in the confines of your apartment, snuggled under your covers with a cup of tea and Emily Henry to keep you company. 

Instead, you found yourself crammed in a two story frat house that was filled to the brim with sweaty and intoxicated bodies. The music was too loud and the smell of alcohol and weed was sure to be stuck on your clothes by the night’s end. The only thing keeping you sane was Bradley’s company and you knew that as the night progressed, even he would soon disappear. 

“You want me to take you home?” Bradley asks, leaning down to your ear so you can hear him. 

You shake your head, pushing at his shoulder. “It’s fine. Besides, I have a feeling you’re gonna get lucky tonight, Bachelor.” You nod towards the blonde in the corner of the room whose eyes haven’t left Bradley since the two of you migrated to the staircase. 

He was practically drooling under the dimmed lights as he followed your motions. Bradley sends the girl a smirk before looking at you wordlessly. 

“Go,” you urge him with a laugh. 

He lets out a breath, downing the rest of his drink and giving your knee a squeeze. “Thanks. I owe you!” 

You playfully roll your eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Be safe!” 

Bradley winks at you over his shoulder. “Always am!” 

The small smile on your lips fades as you watch Bradley go and flirt with the pretty blonde. You were never the center of attention, never the type that anyone gave their time of day to. You were average. Plain boring. The constant reminder of that was there when you hung out with the boys. You loved them, but hearing the way they talked about other girls did take a stab at your self esteem. You used to make fun of them with Natasha but then she started dating Javy, and became one of those girls. And you don’t blame them, your best friend was gorgeous. Anyone with eyes could see that. You convinced yourself that you liked the lack of attention and isolation. But every now and then, you wished someone saw you and thought, Wow. Now that’s someone I want to be with. 

You push yourself off the carpeted stairs, deciding to find Reuben or even Nat and Javy. The cup in your hand is empty anyways. Might as well get a refill while you’re at it. You can barely move through the sea of people that are packed into such a small space. People were grinding against each other left and right, making you want to hurl. You push your way through the kitchen, finally making it to the open patio where beer pong tournaments and sloppy make outs occurred. The cold, night air feels nice against your hot and sweaty skin. You close your eyes, leaning up against the wall and drown out the music and laughter around you. Peace. You just needed a moment of peace. 

You’re too caught up in your own little bubble to notice the presence that saunters up beside you. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?” 

The voice startles you from your moment and your eyes snap open. A hand reaches up to your racing heart and you turn to meet the source of your sudden adrenaline rush. The man beside you is familiar, you’ve seen him once or twice on campus and at other Fraternity events the boys had invited you to. Not to mention, incredibly good looking as well. 

He holds a hand up, almost like he was trying to calm a rattled horse and sheepishly smiles. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” 

You swallow, sharply exhaling and squeezing your plastic up in your hand to ground yourself. “It’s alright.” You avoid his gaze and nervously pick at the chapped skin of your lower lip. 

“Billy Avalone,” he introduces himself with a confident grin. “I think I’ve seen you ‘round with Seresin and Bradshaw.” 

You finally look up to meet his gaze and offer him a dry smile. You offer him an introduction of your own. “Nice to meet you.” 

Billy ever so smoothly scoops up your free hand in his and places a soft kiss to the upside of your hand. Your cheeks heat up at his delicate touch and your knees almost buckle at the glimmer in his eyes. “Trust me, the pleasure is all mine.” 

His manners make you chortle and you snort, pulling away from him to hide behind your smirk behind your palm. 

Rather than drawing away from you, he finds himself intrigued and raises a brow at your amusement. “What?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” you say in between laughter. You grasp your cup with both hands before looking at him with a much more genuine smile on your face. “It’s just… You are not what I expected from a Delta Chi.” 

He nods knowingly, remembering your association with Jake and Bradley. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.” 

There was that ego you were looking for. But it doesn’t deter you like it normally would, in fact you find yourself leaning into him. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You shut your mouth immediately after that, quite surprised by your sudden burst of confidence. 

Billy leans into you just as much, letting his hand brush against your forearm. It sends a shiver down your spine and goosebumps arise on your bare skin. “Nice try, but that’s to be revealed only if you agree to go on a date with me.” 

There was no malice in his tone, no laughing idiots around to signify that anything about this was a joke. The look in Billy’s eyes was full of genuine hope and for the first time that night, you find yourself forgetting all about Jake Seresin and immerse yourself in the idea of Billy Avalone. He was charming and attractive. Lean, but broad enough for you to tell that underneath the jacket he wore was all muscle. You found it hard to believe that Billy had any interest in you and yet, here he was, asking you out on a date. Any other day, you would’ve taken a hard pass.You would’ve told him to move along and put his energy into another person who would consider saying yes. But then you think of Nat and Javy and just how utterly lonely you feel, deciding that Billy was worth the chance and the risk. 

You open your mouth to respond, but stiffen at the feeling of warmth that encapsulates your back. You don’t need to turn to know exactly who it is. The familiar scent of laundry detergent and cinnamon washes over you and you resist the urge to fall into him. 

“Billy,” Jake greets, his voice dropping an octave as he leans in closer to you. His chest just barely brushes against your back sending a new wave of warmth to your neck and cheeks. 

“Hey, Jake.” Billy’s gaze flicks to Jake’s before he focuses his attention back on you, still eagerly waiting for your response. 

Your breath hitches in your throat at the feeling of Jake’s hand on your lower back and you turn to look at him with furrowed brows. His usually well kept hair was stuffed under his backwards baseball cap and despite the chill of the night air he was in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans. 

The air between the three of you is heavy as Billy tries to dismiss Jake’s presence. “So, what do you say about that date?” He smiles at you sweetly, rocking back and forth on his heels. 

Before you can utter a response Jake steps in front of you and blocks you completely from Billy’s view. “Let’s get out of here, Ace.” 

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You scoff, balling your hand up in a fist to resist the urge to slap the back of Jake’s perfect head. “Excuse me? Seresin, will you knock it off?” 

He ignores you, taking a step closer to Billy. Jake straightens his spine. “She’s off limits. Got it, Avalone?” 

“Well, shit, Jake. If that’s your girl, why didn’t you just say so?” Billy gives you an apologetic look from over Jake’s shoulder. 

Jake huffs, almost like an angry bull. “Off. Limits.” 

You frown, adamantly shaking your head. “Wait, Billy. I am not his girl.” 

“No, it’s alright. I’m sorry I even asked. I’ll see you around, I guess.” He knew better than to pick a fight with Jake Seresin. His defeated gaze darts to the floor before he makes his way back into the house. 

Your chest is heaving as you watch Billy walk away. You don’t know whether you want to cry or scream more. You decide on the latter, not deeming Jake worthy of your tears. 

Jake turns to face you, still smiling proudly to himself. His face slightly falls when he meets your eye. He knows well enough that you were not happy. “Ace?” 

You push at his shoulders. “What the fuck, Hangman?” 

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Hang on–”

The palm of your hands make contact with his broad shoulders once more. “Are you kidding me?” You shove him again but Jake’s hardened features don’t falter. “Who gave you the right? Someone was finally interested in me and you just had to drive them away. Your ego really couldn’t handle the fact that I was getting attention. Is that it?” 

“Ace, wait.” He tries to reach for you but you slap his hand away. 

“No, fuck you, Seresin. You can’t…” Your resolve breaks and the tears that sat on your lash line spill over. “You can’t just ignore me for a week only to talk to me after chasing away the one chance of a boyfriend I’ve got. That’s not fair.” 

“You don’t understand. Billy isn’t good enough for you.” 

“Yeah?” You look at him with tear stained cheeks. “Then humor me. Who is?” 

Jake’s words get caught in his throat as he watches you wipe your tears away with the palm of your hand. He wanted to take your face in his hands and brush those tears away. But he knew you wouldn’t let him. 

“That’s what I thought.” You brush past him, knocking his shoulder with your own. “I’m not like the other girls you mess around with. I know that. But that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to feel wanted too.” 

He calls after you, realizing just how horribly he screwed up. But you continue on back inside, probably trying to find Nat or Reuben to take you home. He knew that you weren’t like the other girls. You were different, you were better. You were everything he wanted and more. From the moment he met you, he was hooked. It scared him at first. You were the complete opposite from the girls he usually set his sights on. You were hard headed, independent, unafraid to call him out on his bullshit. You challenged him and he liked that. You weren’t shallow like everyone else and you made him feel seen. 

He never thought a group project would lead him to you. You iced him out at first, and admittedly he knew he deserved that. Then he got to know you and he realized he never wanted to stop. Jake wanted to be the one on the receiving end of your jokes and the affection you gave to those close to you. He dropped his asshole attitude and made the effort to get you to see the real Jake Seresin. And it worked. He was doing so well to finally get you to let your guard down around him. Yet all that work, all that progress, went down the drain because he couldn’t keep his emotions in check. 

By the time Jake caught up to you, you were dragging Natasha out the door with Javy on your tails. His heart dropped to his stomach and he wished he could turn back time to one week ago. Before he hurt you and made you cry. 

_______

Your goal was to forget Jake Seresin ever existed. You threw yourself into your work, locking yourself in your room and spending more time in the library than your own apartment. Now that Nat was officially with Javy, the boys were around more often and you just weren’t ready to face him yet. It wasn’t fair to everyone else, you knew that. But it was easier for you to push them away. You turned back into that academic machine you were before Bradley and Jake forced you out of your shell. You didn’t party, didn’t go out, didn’t join the gang for movie night. Your new friends were your coursework. And when that ran out, you turned to your favorite show reruns for comfort. 

You ignore the series of knocks on your door for the third time tonight. Natasha sighs in defeat, turning back to the group with a shake of her head. “I told you. She’s not coming.” 

Reuben frowns. “Did you tell her Jake wasn’t coming with us?” 

Everyone was aware of your complicated relationship with Jake. The small dance the two of you did was obvious to everyone but yourselves. It was only recently that Jake finally admitted why you’ve been hiding yourself away. If it weren’t for Javy holding her back, Natasha would’ve tore Jake to shreds. 

“I did.” Natasha knew you and she knew you were embarrassed for lashing out at Jake the way you did. Hiding was the safest way to avoid facing yet another humiliating confrontation about your behavior. 

You’ve never spoken to Nat directly about your insecurities, but she saw them in the little things you did. Not bothering to wear extravagant makeup or clothing, putting up a hard front, and pretending not to care. Deep down she knew you cared about how you were perceived. You did care whether or not people found you desirable. You wanted the cliche, movie romance. You wanted someone to sweep you off your feet, just like Westley in The Princess Bride. 

Never, have you let those insecurities break your spirit. Until now. She has never seen you so small. She didn’t understand how Jake Seresin managed to knock you down with just one hit. 

But it has been nearly two weeks since the party and Natasha was done with your groveling and self pity. You were going to get out of your room and you were going to have fun. 

“Just give her a second,” Reuben whispers, having just a little bit of faith left in you. 

It was as if you felt the little piece of hope Reuben had left for you because suddenly, the door of your room swings open and a breath of relief leaves both of your friends. You had decided to come out and join them after all. Nat had told you it was just a casual hangout amongst your friends, bar Bradley and Jake. You settled on changing into an oversized Naval Academy sweatshirt you had thrifted and an old pair of faded jeans. 

Nat hadn’t seen you in anything other than pajama tees and sweatpants so to her, this was a big win. 

Reuben smiles widely at your appearance before coming up to you and gathering you into his arms. “There you are.” His words and affection pulls an unexpected giggle out of you, soothing Reuben and Nat’s nerves. “How’ve you been, Ace?” 

You shrug, shifting in his hold as he keeps an arm around you. “I could be better. But I guess I could be worse too.” 

Natasha hooks your arm with hers, taking you from Reuben’s grasp. “You ready to go? Javy is waiting in the car with Bob and Mickey. I was thinking we could go to The Hard Deck using your car. You know, like old times.” 

That brings a ghost of a smile to your face. The Hard Deck was a place of refuge for you and your group of friends, despite it being a Navy bar. You and Mickey found it by accident, stopping over at the nearest institution because he had to use the bathroom really badly on a drive back to campus. The bartender, Penny Benjamin, was sweet and treated you all like her own children. You haven’t seen her in awhile and just knew a visit to your spot was long overdue. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

The drive to the bar brings a bit of your old spark back. Natasha had the windows rolled down while the two of you belted out your favorite songs at the top of your lungs. She filled you in on all the things you missed from the past couple of weeks, strategically leaving out any anecdotes involving Jake. Though, Nat hasn’t seen him much since the party. It seemed as if he was taken over by the spirit of an old Delta Chi member. He was slumming it with the sorority girls and stayed out late partying with the other guys of his Frat. Bradley had tried to snap him out of it, but he reverted to his old ways. Back to before they met you. 

Upon arriving at The Hard Deck you exchange a round of pleasantries with the rest of your friends who were glad to see you finally out of, as Mickey had called it, your “Bat Cave.” You volunteered to grab some drinks for the rest of the party while they settled in your usual booth in the back. 

You returned to the table with beers for the guys, a club soda for Bob, a Mai Tai for Nat, and a lemonade for yourself. The night was spent full of laughter and warmth as you found yourself slipping back into your natural groove of things. Soon, your once dampened mood started to dissipate. 

“I’m telling you, there’s something going on with Professor Mitchell and Penny,” Mickey slurs. 

The group erupts into chaos then, one talking over the other and you can’t help but laugh as you lean into Mickey’s side. You missed this. You were so hard headed that in the process of blocking one person out, you put it upon everyone else. But you were here now and he wasn’t. That’s all that mattered to you. 

Reuben is the one to calm the group down. “Alright, alright. You’re saying, P. Mitchell and Penny are… romantically involved. Where the hell did you get that idea?” 

“DnD club meets here on Tuesdays and coincidentally so does Professor Mitchell,” he shrugs. 

“Did you say DnD club?” Javy’s wheezing between breaths and Natasha has to slap him on the chest to get him to stop. 

Mickey rolls his eyes. “I have a life outside of you guys, you know.” 

“Yeah, but DnD club?” 

“What’s wrong with DnD?” Bob chimes in, slightly offended. 

Nat slaps him again. “Javy!”

“Right, sorry. Please, continue.” 

“Actually, I don’t think I want to,” Mickey narrows his eyes at the man. 

“Mick, he was joking. Please finish what you were saying.” You tap him affectionately on the shoulder with a gentle smile. 

He attempts to continue his story when a smack to the tabletop catches all of you off guard. You tear your gaze from Mickey to be met with Bradley Bradshaw clad in one of his signature Hawaiian shirts as he leans against the table. 

You give him a pained smile, knowing that where Bradley went, Jake wasn’t far behind. 

“Good to see ya, Ace,” Bradley nods. 

“You too, Brad,” you tell him softly. And you meant it. 

The group falls uncharacteristically quiet and you feel Natasha give your knee tight squeeze. 

“Didn’t know the gang was getting back together.” The familiar snark of the one person you didn’t want to see rings through your ears. Jake Seresin struts over with that stupidly cocky grin of his and unsurprisingly, another sorority girl on his arm. 

No longer caring for pleasantries with the man, you roll your eyes. You hate to admit that it stung to see him with yet another woman. A small part of you hoped that maybe he’d show up empty handed and acknowledge your presence. That didn’t happen and it felt like a knife to the chest. What did you expect? Of course, nothing has changed since the last time you saw him. While you were feeling worse than ever about yourself, Jake had absolutely zero cares in the world. He only cared about himself, he always would. 

Javy was the only one who had the stomach to greet him with a simple, “Hey.” 

He chuckles, almost mockingly, as the girl on his arm tries to gain his attention and pull him to the bar. “Why weren’t we invited to the party?” 

“Because no one wants you here, Bagman,” Natasha spits. 

Jake brings a hand to his chest, acting hurt at her insinuation. “You wound me, Natasha.” 

She gives him the finger in response. 

“Now does everyone not want me here? Or is there a certain someone who doesn’t want me here?” He raises a brow and his bright green eyes land on you. 

You avoid his gaze and you hear Bradley hiss Jake’s name. 

“What? I’m just saying. It’s pretty obvious someone didn’t want me here and we all know who.” Jake doesn’t care that the girl who had been hanging off of him moments ago found someone else to play with, abandoning her post to flirt with another guy over at the pool tables. He had your attention and to him that was enough. 

You feel a familiar sting behind your eyes, knowing damn well he was just toying with you at this point. 

“Stop.” This time it’s Javy who speaks up, surprising Jake. “If you only came over here to be a dick then I suggest you leave.” 

The light mood from earlier has completely died and you know that once he leaves, nothing can bring it back. 

“Ace.” 

He calls you out directly this time and you can’t hold it in any longer. All the hurt and anger he caused bubbles up to the surface. Part of you wants to talk to him, clear the air up a bit and give him a chance to apologize. The other part of you, the more rational part, decides to ignore him entirely. 

You quietly ask Natasha if you could pass and her and Javy get up to stand to the side to let you through. You purposely angle your body so your back is towards Jake, announcing that you were going to get another drink before heading in the direction of the bar. 

Jake moves to follow you, only to be stopped by his best friend. 

Javy grabs his wrist with a disapproving frown. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“Let go, Javy,” he absent mindedly demands. His eyes never leave your figure as you make your way through the crowd. 

“No. You’re being an asshole, man. What happened to the guy who was repeatedly texting me to make sure she was okay? I told you where we were because I thought you were going to apologize. Not do… whatever that was.” Disappointment shines in Javy’s deep brown eyes. 

Bradley slides into the space where you once were, watching what was about to unfold with the rest of them. 

“Wait a minute, you told him we were going here? Javy!” Natasha looks at her boyfriend in disbelief. 

“I’m sorry! This idiot told me he wanted to make it up to her.” He gestures blindly to Jake who was running a hand through his already disheveled hair. 

Natasha snorts. “Unbelievable,” she swears under her breath. 

“Nat–” Jake starts, but she cuts him off in an instant. 

“No. You stay away from her, got it? She’s had enough of your games, Seresin, and quite frankly so have I.” 

“I messed up. I know I did. But please, please just give me a chance to explain.”

He takes Natasha’s silence as an unspoken truce. “I care about her. So much that it scares the shit out of me. I was gonna tell her, you know. Then I saw her with Bob and I realized that she could do so much better than me. So I did what I do best. I pushed her away.” 

Bob flushes red at the mention of his name. 

“What is there to say about myself other than that I’m your typical, college fuckboy? The thing is, I was fine with that reputation. I was good at doing things on my own. Then I met Ace and I realized she’s my antidote. That girl gave me tunnel vision. Suddenly, I’m looking at my future and I want to do more with my life than be known as a college heartbreaker. The one thing I know to be true is that I want to be better with her by my side.”

“Why should I believe you after the way you treated her?” Natasha’s gaze narrows, still not fully convinced. 

He swallows harshly. “You have every right not to. I wouldn’t believe me either. But you’ve got to understand that I never realized just how much she really meant to me until I almost lost her.” There’s a look of defeat that crosses his features, and his head falls to his chest. 

Nat’s hardened stare falters ever so slightly. “To Billy. But wait, I don’t understand. What about that girl you came in here with?” 

“Oh, she’s here for free booze. I needed to get Ace’s attention somehow.” 

She rolls her eyes. “You’re an idiot.” 

Jake nods, regret shining in his eyes. “I know. Listen, I’m not good at relationships.” 

“Trust me, we know,” Bradley mutters under his breath. 

Jake shoots him a quick glare before continuing. “I don’t know how to do them. For Ace, I’ll learn. I would do anything for her. Look, I know I’ve made mistakes and I need to fix them before it’s too late.” 

Natasha was conflicted. She looks at Javy who meets her gaze with a soft smile. Then to Reuben and Bradley. Finally, her eyes land once more on Jake. She found herself in the same dilemma she was in before she started dating Javy. Their reputation precedes them. You were the one to warn her of Delta Chi’s womanizer ways. Yet she still gave Javy a chance and it was the best decision she ever made. She knew deep down that these guys had good hearts. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, she knew Jake did too. He was kinder with you, softer. You always brushed him off but Nat saw the way he affected you. He made you happy and you deserved to be. If she could give Javy that chance, shouldn’t she extend it to Jake too?

She groans with her head in her hands. “Fine. Fine.” 

Jake’s eyes light up, clearly expecting another rejection. “Really?”

“Yes. But I swear if you hurt her again, if you break her heart, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” 

His stomach churns at the thought, knowing full well that she meant it. “Yes, ma’am,” he salutes. 

“Now go get her before it’s too late.” In other words, Natasha had finally given him her blessing. 

Jake’s dejected state is replaced with one of determination. He mouths an appreciative thank you, before setting his sights on you. 

“Forget DnD club, I need to hang out with you guys more often because that was better than a Netflix drama,” Mickey babbles, making Bob smack him lightly on the back of his head. 

With her arms crossed, Natasha stares out the window wistfully. “I just hope he can make things right.” 

Wrapping his arms around Nat, Javy gives her a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, he’s got this.” 

_________

“Hey Pen, can you just tell Natasha to ride home with the boys? I think I’m going to head out.” You place a wad of cash on the bar top, signaling for her to close your tab. 

The woman frowns, noticing the bothersome frown on your face. “You sure, sweetheart?” 

Downing the last of your lemonade, you nod. “Thank you, for the advice and everything.” 

“Of course. Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself, okay?” 

A tight smile pulls at your lips in farewell. You push your way through the rowdy crowd, breathing deeply once you make it outside. 

You curse under your breath. You didn’t know it was supposed to rain tonight. You eye your car in the distance, deciding whether to make the trek or go back inside until it stops. The sound of the door opening behind you catches your attention and your heart leaps out of your chest. 

“Ace,” Jake Seresin calls out, desperately trying to reach you. 

You throw all caution to the wind and run out into the pouring rain, too exhausted to deal with him right now. 

His shoes squeak and splash through the puddles on the asphalt. Not caring that he was soaked to the bone, he runs after you. Jake calls out for you again but you continue on. For once, he doesn’t find himself admiring your stubborn attitude. 

You throw a quick glance behind you, hoping to see that you’ve lost him, but Jake’s strides are longer than yours and he has closed more of the distance between you two than you thought. A shiver racks your form and your clothes are sticking uncomfortably to your skin. You find yourself regretting your decision but there’s no way you can take it back now. You shove your hand into your pocket, frantically pulling out your car keys once you make it to your car. 

Jake sees you shiver as you try to unlock your car. You just barely get the driver’s side to open when he comes up behind you and presses the door shut. Your back is to his front and he pleads for you to turn around. 

You hear him before you see him. You don’t want to turn around. You can’t. You know the second you look into his opalescent green eyes, your resolve will shatter. “Get off, Jake,” you demand impatiently. 

“Please look at me, please.” The desperation of his voice startles you. Never, have you heard Jake Seresin say the word ‘please,’ and never have you heard him beg. 

You’re shaking as you wrap your arms around yourself for warmth. You bite into your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. From the rain or from the tears that have started streaming down your cheeks, you are unsure. 

“Ace,” he breathes. 

His breath is hot against the skin of your neck soothing you from the cold. But still, you don’t budge. 

Jake finds himself getting frustrated and he runs his hand through his damp hair, moving it away from his eyes. He can barely see your reflection in your car window, his vision blurred from the raindrops that cloud his vision. But the pale moonlight and dim streetlamp shows him enough to see that you feel just as hurt as he does, if not more. “Fine. You don’t have to look at me. I just need you to listen.” 

You say nothing. 

He exhales through his mouth as he recalls what he wants to say. “Remember when we first met and you asked me if I actually had a brain or if I just thought with my dick? That was the moment I knew you were unlike anyone else I’ve ever met. Usually, I’d have girls swooning over me left and right, but not you. You weren’t fazed by me in the slightest and that intrigued me. Everything about you intrigues me. Which is why I was so eager to get more out of you. I poked fun. I made jokes. I made sure that your attention was almost always on me because when it was, it gave me the best view of each and every thing you had to offer. Like the way you bite your bottom lip when you’re trying not to cry.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat from his words, heart going faster than that goddamn roadrunner. 

“Come on, Ace.” 

How could you deny him when he spoke with so much conviction? You spin on your heel to face him. He’s soaked, just as you are, and yet you think he has never looked so beautiful. As you look at him, the ache in your chest doesn’t subside and you sniffle from the cold. “What do you want, Seresin?” 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. 

You look away from him. “I don’t need your pity.” 

“Hey, I’m serious. I know I hurt you and I will never forgive myself for it.” 

There’s a sincerity in his tone that throws you off. “Then why? If you feel so bad about it, why did you do it?” 

“Because… Because I…” He’s nervous. Of all the times he has ever spoken to you, this is the one time he has felt this way. 

Your patience is wearing thin so you shake your head and run a hand down your face. You were so tired of him holding out on you. “You know what? All I ever wanted was for you to look at me the same way you look at those other girls. Why wasn’t I good enough for you?” Once the floodgates opened, it was hard to get them locked up again. 

You might as well have ripped his heart out of his chest instead of saying that. The effect it had on him would’ve been all the same. “Oh, baby,” he cups your face gently between his calloused hands and strokes his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks. The rain made it hard for him to tell which marks were tears and which were rainwater, but he treated them all the same. “Those girls have nothing on my Ace. You are more than enough. You are everything and I was too blind to see it until now.” 

“What?” You whimper. 

God, does he want to kiss that pout right off your face. “I don’t look at you the way I look at everyone else because I don’t want them the way I want you.” 

“And how is that, Jake?” 

That alone gives him a glimmer of hope. His heart skips a beat and his stomach erupts in butterflies.“You called me Jake,” he grins. “You never call me Jake.” 

You scoff, not realizing the name slipped. “Answer the question.” 

“I want every part of you. I want late nights and study sessions. I want to be the first one you call and the last one you text goodnight. The good, the bad, all of it. As long as it’s you.” 

The honesty in his gaze makes you want to believe him. Because that’s all you ever wanted from him. So bad. But he has hurt you one too many times. You don’t think you’d be able to take it if he did one more time. “How do I know you won’t hurt me again?” 

Jake takes the leap, resting his forehead on yours. When you don’t pull away, he confesses, “You don’t. But I will spend every day proving to you that I’m never going to make that mistake again.” He brushes some of your damp hair away from your face and admires how ethereal you look in this light. “One date, Ace. Let me make it up to you.” 

You relish in his warmth, the aching hurt in your chest finally subsiding. The raging storm in your heart is finally calm. “One date. That’s all you’re getting.” 

The smile that spreads across his face is the brightest you’ve ever seen. He no longer feels lost now that he has you. “That’s all I need, darling.” 

For once, you believe him. 

add yourself to my taglist!

tgm taglist (does not include ‘seasons’ tags): @joaquinwhorres @harrycherrylove @smoothdogsgirl

a/n: this was supposed to be short, yet here we are. i hope you enjoy frat!jake as much as i do <3 as usual, huge thanks to @briseisgone love u hun.

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2023: October 18th

Day 18: Sensory Deprivation Gags, Service Top/Power Bottom, Bloodplay

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, kink shaming?, Tom being a douche, mentions of drinking, tipsy Frankie, assumed prior consent, oral sex (female receiving), sex toys, slight exhibitionism

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It never fails that a conversation with the guys has to include sex of some kind. Even if it's just ribald jokes and busting each other’s balls as they drink beer out in your backyard around the firepit. It’s one of those nights. The jokes have come out in force since announcing that you and Frank were expecting, all the men who had served in Delta Squad A congratulating your husband on his virility, his obvious prowess in the bedroom while you just hummed happily at the very real prospect of the newest addition to the Morales household. 

“Fish, what the fuck is this?” The slider to the house closes behind Tom and he holds up a book that you know for a fact was tucked into Frankie’s nightstand before the guys came over. You know because you had put it away. 

“What the fuck? Did you go through my nightstand?” Frankie frowns, seeing the book in his former team leader’s hands. He moves a hand up to push the brim of his hat up and scratch his hair underneath before he pulls it back down, a little embarrassed.

Tom ignores the question, obviously having committed the crime since he had been the one in the house and turns to the book to read the title. “Powering From the Bottom.” He reads out loud. “How To Be a Service Top.” His tone is incredulous and he snorts as he looks back at your husband. “Jesus Christ, Fish, wanna tell us something?” 

You hiss in anger, watching your husband squirm uncomfortably. Tom is one of those fuckers who believe that macho men have to be dominant, constantly the ‘head of household’ and would never, ever, be a service top. 

“Red-” 

“Maybe you should read it, Tom.” You speak up, not wanting Frankie to fight this battle alone. It’s not really any of his goddamn business what happens in your bedroom, but since he wants to embarrass your husband, you think you’ll just embarrass him. “Maybe you can figure out why Molly left you.” 

It’s amazing how quickly the air seems to go completely silent. Even the fire decides it’s not going to speak up and crackle. “What did you just say?” Others might be intimidated by the former soldier’s narrowed gaze, but you aren’t. Fuck Tom. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug, taking another sip of your punch. “Told me that she hadn’t had an orgasm from sex with you in nearly eight years.” You snort. “Just that you climb on top of her and ride her for forty-five seconds and think that you’ve done her some sort of favor.” 

“Babe-” Frankie frowns and moves over towards you. Wrapping his arm around your back and pulling you towards him. You know why he’s doing it. One, to get your attention. Two, to remind Tom that you are his wife. Tom’s a hothead and you are pushing his buttons in front of a group of people. But he brought this on himself. 

“No, baby.” You shake your head and turn towards Frankie, kissing the bare patch of skin on his jaw. “He started this.” Looking back at Tom, you huff. “Do you even know what a Service Top is? It means that his focus, his priority is my pleasure. He gets off on making sure that I’m very well taken care of.”  You hand slides protectively over your stomach, reminding everyone that you are pregnant, that it obviously works for you. “It’s not something to be ashamed of. And I bought that book for my husband as a joke, a private one.” You announce to the group. “Yes, he is reading it, but I want to know how you found it when it was tucked into his nightstand in our bedroom?” 

You’ve got him there and everyone knows it. Tom scowls, not happy with the way that you’ve neatly turned this around on him and huffs. “I was just fucking around with him.” He grumbles, tossing the book down into one of the chairs and looks around the group. “What? Drink your beer.” He tells them, annoyed at being called out and even more annoyed that he doesn’t know if you were lying about what Molly said or not. 

You smirk and hum to yourself, feeling Frankie’s fingers pressing into your side as he leans down and presses his lips to yours. You know that your husband is ten times the man that Tom ‘Redfly’ Davis is, and you’ll be damned if you won’t fight for him as hard as he protects you. 

**** “Baby, I want you.” It’s not surprising that Frankie is pressing up against you, his cock rock hard against your ass the second you climb into bed with him. He’s more than a little tipsy and he always wants sex when he’s been drinking. “So fucking sexy.” He groans, kissing the back of your neck and immediately pushing his hands under your shirt to cup your breasts gently. His touch has been lighter since they have been sensitive, but it’s perfect. “Defending me. Want to make you feel good, want to make you scream my name for everyone to hear.” 

The rule of the Morales house was that anyone who drank too much, stayed. Keys were put away and the guest bedrooms and the couches were put to use. No one needed a DUI to pull them off the team or god forbid, kill someone. Even Tom had stayed, since he had one too many. 

“Are you sure?” You ask, smirking when his answer is rocking his cock against your ass. As if showing you how sure he was. “Let me eat your pussy.” He begs, thumbing  your nipple and not pinching since that would make you hiss in pain. 

Frankie’s tongue is magic and you moan softly, making him twitch against you. He loves eating you out, making you cum on his tongue and sometimes would want to just do that, because you weren’t up for sex. He didn’t care, he just wanted you to cum. 

“You want to show all of them how you take care of your girl?” You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder and he’s practically salivating at the idea. 

“Fuck yes,” he groans. “Want to - fuck, you want your toy? Your dildo inside you while I play with your clit? Want you so wet for me when I slide inside you.” 

He always knows exactly what you enjoy, taking note of everything that makes you pant or moan for him. It’s exactly why Frankie is a service top. He’s always in control of you in the bedroom, but rather than using you for his own pleasure. He gets pleasure from your satisfaction. 

With your pregnancy, Frankie has become more attentive than normal. Maybe a little sloppy because of the alcohol, but he’s still bringing his A game. Kissing and nibbling on your thigh while he slowly works the toy in and and out of your lips, he waits until you are breathless to latch onto your clit. 

“Frank!” You know your cry is loud, unwilling to censor yourself in your own home, and wanting those that had heard Tom try to shame him hear how much you enjoy Frankie as a lover. Not faking it, but not holding back. 

Your fingers twist into his longer curls and you love looking down to find his dark brown eyes fixed on your face. Watching as he slowly tears you apart with his tongue and the motion of the toy rocking deeper into your grasping walls. 

Every moan spurs him on, every sigh a sign that he should suck more, nibble or pull back just based on the sound of it. Reading your reactions and your body like a book and adjusting to make sure that you are soaking the toy and the bed beneath you with the evidence of how well Frankie treats you. 

HIs own hums and moans vibrate deep into your pussy, making it throb and clench even more as he works you over. Fully aware of the power that he has over you and even if he is giving, he is also taking from you as well. Taking your sounds, taking the way your hips roll down to chase his tongue. Taking every pulse of slick that gushes from your cunt. He takes all of it with the pride that makes his cock leak into the bed under him. 

You know that some of this is a lesson to everyone in the house around you. None of them, except maybe Tom, are asleep yet. You had just gone to bed when the moaning started. The breathless sighs of his name and the slight begging orders of ‘more’ that seem to fall from your lips every time Frankie slides between your thighs. 

Your cry of pleasure when you fall apart is just that. Pure pleasure. Pleasure from the way that his tongue laps at your clit and pleasure in knowing that you are proving to everyone how being a service top isn’t being weak. It’s the most powerful that a man can be. 

[vodika-vibes]

Hey vodika!

Congrats on your follower milestone!

Could I request f!Jedi reader x Sev

Garnet

Autumn evening

Thank you! Love you! Xx

Forever

Summary: Of all of the things that Sev hates in the universe, watching his Jedi get hurt tops the list.

Pairing: Clone Commando Sev x Reader

Word Count: 777

Warnings: Reader is seriously injured here, though I didn't detail how she was hurt. Reader is described as formerly having long hair.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, I tried my best with this, but it's not easy to write when you can't focus for longer than a few minutes at a time. I'm sorry if it's not quite what you wanted. If you don't like it you can send another request and I'll write something when I'm not sick.

Sev knows that he’s not the gentlest of men. He knows that he’s quick to anger and that he enjoys violence just a little too much for most people to want to put up with. Sure, his own batchmates know that sometimes he says those things simply because it gets reactions.

But most of their brothers don’t.

He doesn’t mind it. He gets along better with his batchmates over anyone else anyway. Well, his batchmates and their jedi.

His Jedi.

She was a surprise addition to Delta Squad shortly after the war began. Someone who was supposed to manage their mission loads and help them so they could take more dangerous missions. 

And she quickly integrated herself into Delta Squad. She was careful to not step on Boss’ toes, listened to Scorch’s jokes, redirected Fixer when he was being his most ornery, and was able to temper the worst of his temper.

How could Sev not fall in love with her?

And Sev has never been the type of man to tiptoe around things like feelings, so he told her as soon as he knew that he loved her. He fully expected her to turn him down, but she surprised him by releasing a musical laugh, and agreeing to go on a date with him to see where this leads.

That was nearly a year ago now, and somehow Sev is still able to claim her as his girlfriend. Somehow, because he thought for sure that she would kick him to the curb months ago.

His gaze drifts from his rifle, which he’s been cleaning, to his Jedi.

They’re holed up in a Jedi Safehouse, and his brothers are out trying to find a way off this planet, while Sev chose to remain behind to look after their barely conscious Jedi. 

It’s a shame she hasn’t been able to enjoy the planet properly. His Jedi loves this type of weather, when it’s cool and the leaves have started to change. Sweater weather, she calls it.

Though, she’s not saying much of anything at the moment.

She’s nearly gray-faced, and her layers of robes have been removed and replaced by bandages. Her hair had been shorn into a much shorter style, due to the sheer amount of matting that they hadn’t been able to fix-

And then she stirs, her fingers flexing against the thick blanket granting her some modesty.

Sev swallows hard and sets his rifle to the side, before he stands and walks over to her carefully settling himself on the floor near her cot. Her pretty eyes flutter open and focus on his face, “Sev-” She mumbles his name, and she lifts her hand, which he catches and threads her fingers with his own.

“Hey there, Pretty Girl.” He replies, “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“-where?”

“We’re still on the same planet,” He explains as he gently squeezes her hand, “The others are out looking for a way out.”

She tries to sit up, but Sev is quick to push her back prone, “I should be helping them-”

“You need to rest.” Sev insists. 

“But, it’s not safe.” She tries.

“Hey,” He waits until her pretty eyes are locked on him, “No one here is going to hurt them. We’ve already killed anyone who might try.”

She blinks at him.

Sev smiles wryly and he brings his free hand up to rest against her bruised face, “They had you, cyar’ika. They had you and they were hurting you, there was no other option.”

She sighs softly, and she turns her head to kiss the palm of his hand, “I don’t deserve you.” she mumbles.

Sev just laughs, “I think that’s supposed to be my line.” All of the tension has drained from his body now that she’s awake and talking, “You deserve far better than me. It’s a shame that I’m not so good a person to just walk away and let another person have you.”

She lightly squeezes his fingers, “All I want is you, though.”

“You have terrible taste in men.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Slowly, Sev brushes some of her hair out of her face, “No one is ever going to hurt you again, cyar’ika. I promise.”

She smiles at him, soft and warm, and Sev leans in to press his lips lightly against hers, pulling away just as quickly as he leaned in. “Now, get some more rest. As soon as we have a ship, you’re going to take a nap in a bacta tank.”

She just sighs, “Will you stay?”

Sev brings their joined hands to his lips, and presses a light kiss to her knuckles, “Forever.”

[toska-writes]

Clone commandos request if possible. 😁 Could you do delta squad. where on a mission they get captured along with the Padawan, and get protective when they try to separate them or interrogate them.

So i thought about writing a fic based on todays bad batch episode (but I need to get some of the requests done- if you wanna request some Wolffe *wink wink* that’s ok)

“Got your back”

Summary: a mission goes south with the delta squad but they have your back

Paring: The delta Squad/ republic commandos x padawan!reader (PLATONIC OFC)

Warning: slight mentions of injury and imprisonment nothing too bad… the most scary- not proofread

Word count: 1688

Notes: Delta Squad fics are not my “most popular” but ones I always do so much for and I don’t know why

Also I swear to god someone asked to join the Taglist but I can’t remember nor find it so let me know!

"Can you focus for one second Scorch? EVER?" Fixed screamed through the comms, you could see his tense movements from a mile away as the squad ducked once again behind a wall.

Boss could only nod this head, he quickly spun around from where you, Sev and him were hiding to shoot an incoming droid.

"Sorry Scorch I can't defend you this time it's not looking good." You spoke between gasp of your own breath, the adrenaline from the long hours fighting wearing on you and the whole group.

Sev leaned heavily on Fixer from where you could see him, though Scorch as of now was doing a good job covering them.

"Boss," You yelled over the hiss of a smoke bomb going off- the contents of which were going in your eyes and making you cough. "I'm all out of ideas here."

The comando spared you a glance for a second, you feared what his face would have looked like if his helmet was discarded.

Boss looked down at the padawan for a moment. A thin cut ran along their cheek way too close to their eye for Boss’s comfort. He watched their head whip around looking through the fog desperately before a huge bang went off.

After a moment of slight ringing Boss felt the bump of another person against his side. The padawan looked around frantically for the force of the bomb before looking up to the comando.

In a more solemn voice they asked. “Boss what are we gonna do?”

Boss thought about their options then. Backed into the corner of what should have been an abandoned outpost, on of their men injured and the rest ready to collapse from exhaustion. He as a leader thought he was better than this but Boss felt as if he walked his squad right into this trap.

“The missions easy enough for us.” Boss had said only hours before. A knot sat in his stomach but the team needed an easy mission, a break from their last fiasco with the bugs.

He’s never been more wrong in his life.

While he was lost in thought, Boss nearly missed Scorch sliding up next to their leader, his panicked voice tried to fill Boss’s ears.

For a moment the other comando didn’t realize the trooper in yellow was talking until Scorch made a shhh gesture with his hand.

That’s when you noticed it too, the complete lack of noise. No more clanker chatter or blaster bullets from each side. Just the low hiss of the fog that didn’t seem to die down.

You opened your mouth to say something before the unmistakable scraping of metals filled your ears.

“Rollies! get down!” Scorch shouted pulling you and Boss to the floor with him. About 5 Droidekas emerged from the smoke…. Lucky you guys.

“Scorch handle them.” Boss yelled using his hands to signal something at Fixer and Sev at the speed of light. His gruff tone scratched your ears but you all seemed pretty fed up at the situation.

Blaster bullets were blocked by your lightsaber left and right until the next words made your heart drop all together. “Out of hand grenades sir.” Scorch ripped his blaster out now but the shields were too strong on the droids.

“Down the hall!” Fixer yelled as both He and Sev passed the 3 of you, a way out hopefully planned.

You felt them before you saw them, you tried skidding to a stop before turning into the next hall as a hand shot out to grab Boss.

“Shit.” Was the only thing you could say, before they could question what you meant a group of comando droids emerged with guns drawn.

“You’ve got to be joking me.” Sev rasped out, his arm shook while he tried to lift his blaster up and fire. The tiredness leaked off of him though you were sure it did for everyone.

A ring of blue light hit the wall behind you. It didn’t make sense though, comando droids weren’t the type to show mercy.

Your lightsaber flashed along the darkened walls trying to keep the nimble droids away, why couldn’t the separatists just send the normal clankers.

Once again the hall was engulfed in a think smoke. You heard more blasters going off but you feared you were getting more and more disoriented. After a moment you heard a sickening thunk next to you and you assumed the worst.

In the blink of an eye you felt the blast hit its mark and half your body go limp. Unlike the bulking clones you were with it only took about 2 hits before you were out.

•✩•

Boss was the first one to awaken. His head bobbed around and his eyes fluttered open. Boss reached his hand up only to finally realize that his armor was gone.

He laid there for a moment, confusion laced his face. What had happened to him? To them….

In a split second Boss shot up to a sitting position , which his head greatly protested, and looked for the rest of his squad.

Relief was one of the best things in the galaxy in this moment. In the dim light of the ray shield keeping them in Boss could count the 3 other comandos and the form of their padawan knocked out next to Scorch.

Sev still looked bad as now Boss could get the full view of his gash along his side- the blacks on all of the men seemed to be tattered.

Boss observed their surroundings for a moment before giving a light tap to Fixer on the foot. When that didn’t work the first time a much hard kick was implemented.

Fixer gasped awake along with Scorch after a “friendly” tap from the clone comando.

I didn’t take Scorch long before he leaned back against the wall and groaned, clearly he knew the situation at hand.

Boss could only stare for another second at Sev, guilt rummaged through his insides as he helped his injured brother up ultimately waking him as well. This was his fault and Boss couldn’t shake that.

“Fixer start working on those bindings.” Boss ordered unable to keep his gaze on the unconscious padawan. Clearly to the eyes of their captors the Jedi was the bigger threat.

Sev hissed for a moment now finding a new brother to lean on.

You came to with the feeling of someone’s exposed hands brushing against your arms. The pounding in your head was present but the blanket of confusion was much scarier.

“Thanks for joinin’ us.” The unmistakable voice of scorch chimed in. Your eyes strained against the darkness but you could tell what the problem was.

The cool metal hurt your wrists as Fixer fiddled with them muttering a small apology every once in a while.

Boss’ low voice filled the cell, plans of just how they would get out to fight another day. Your eyes scanned the worrisome group.

Scorch sat fidgeting with his hands trying desperately to listen but you could see the worry in his eyes as clear as day.

Fixer sat in front of you cursing and apologizing but he just couldn’t seem to do anything useful without his tools and data pad.

Sev’s eyes closed everyone once in a while and you could see the fight to remain in the moment, though his scowl never seemed to be wiped off.

And finally Boss. His voice was level and low just like the countless other times you heard him give directions, however this time was different. He knew this wasn’t in their favor and he was worried beyond belief.

Someone had to stay strong for them all.

Your heartbeat beat out of your chest, a dull throb started in your temples the feeling seemed vaguely familiar.

“I think someone’s coming.” For the first time you were unsure in the force. Fixer faltered for a moment before meeting your eyes. “It’s probably these. Messing with you.” He shook the bindings.

Though to your surprise, and relief in a way, someone did make their way down the hall. Boss spoke out quickly as you averted your gaze, sweat started to form on your brow.

“We need a medic.” It was hard to call it pleading despite where Boss said it from his position on the floor, but it was definitely more of a demand.

2 masked figures approached though they seemed to ignore Boss all together.

“We need the Jedi.” The cool voice stated only once.

Everyone seemed to freeze for a moment unsure about which group would make the first move.

“Get up.” Was demanded at you and you glanced around meeting Boss’ eyes for only a moment before you gripped onto the sleeve of Fixer.

The ray shield was down now and the larger figure stepped in. “I’m not asking again”

“Like kriff they’re going with you.” Scorch stood in front of you now. His full height filled up their line of sight.

“Move clone.” For a second Scorch was pushed back that was until Boss stood as well and shoved their captor away from his brother.

Before the other could react with their blaster Scorch was all over them. Fixer taking the hint that their time was now scrambled to get their other brother still on the floor.

Your eyes were blown wide with the loud alarm that was set off. You felt someone grab your arm as you were still in a little daze.

“I hope you didn’t think we were really gonna let them take ya.” Scorch said as the group rushed down the halls.

You thought about that for a moment, had there truly been something to worry about while you were surrounded but the Delta Squad, your brothers?

A smile broke out of your face and Scorch seemed to get your reply.

“I hope you know.” Scorch called over his shoulder. “You’re never picking the missions by yourself again Boss.”

An angry yell was heard from somewhere behind you replacing the fear in your body with a laugh. “You were the one to pick the bug mission Scorch!”

______________________________

Taglist:

@arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook @gregorsmissingarmor

[wanderinginksplot]

Refuge

Voubos is a planet poised on the edge of war. With little to offer the rest of the galaxy, Voubos and its residents have been largely ignored, with only an occasional visit from the Republic or the Confederacy of Independent Systems. But when you hear a rumor about strange, armored men marching in the forests, you go to investigate. 

Could the presence of four soldiers destroy the fragile peace? 

(Eventual Delta Squad x fem!reader)

Part One  - 5.5k words. Rumors of strange men in the forests prompt you to do some exploring.

Part Two  - 6.6k words. When Voubos falls, the Separatists decide to make an example of you.

Part Three  - 4.6k words. For the first time in your life, you’ve left Voubos behind. But Coruscant promises to be overwhelming, especially without Delta Squad around. 

Part Four  - 5.7k words. You and Delta Squad - accompanied by Barriss Offee - explore the Jedi Temple while you wait for the Council to finish their meeting. 

Part Five - 4.0k words. You deliberate between the choices the Jedi Council offered you… with a little help from Delta Squad.

Part Six - 4.7k words. Now that you’ve made your decision, the real work begins.

Part Seven - 6.6k words. You have some time before your first mission. Delta Squad has very different ideas how you should spend it.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Fic Masterlist

Hello there.

Thanks for stopping by! This is my masterlist of Star Wars fics. I'll update it as I publish new works. Please note that most of my fics contain mature content and are intended for readers over 18. Enjoy, and feel free to drop a comment any time; I love connecting with fellow readers and writers. May the Force be with you!

Requests are currently open. 🩵

Follower Celebration Requests: OPEN!!!

Join my tag list here

Looking for my cocktail masterlist? It's here

🍋 indicates mature content 🍋

My AO3

Longfics

Stars Beyond Number. (AO3 link, complete)

Soldiers. Heroes. Deserters. Traitors. They've been called many things. As the Galactic Empire rises from the ashes of the Republic, a small group of clone troopers and their allies will find a new identity: Rebels.

Echo, Rex, and Gregor are on a mission to save as many of their brothers as they can. The task is daunting, and their friends are few. But from these small and desperate beginnings will come a spark of resistance that will set the galaxy ablaze.

Cerra Kilian GAR Personnel Datafile

Martyrs and Kings. (AO3 link, complete) Star Wars meets light academia. A post-stasis Kix longfic. Clone medic Kix is a man displaced in time. Captured by Separatists and put into cryostasis when he learned the truth about the clones' inhibitor chips, he awakens fifty years after the end of the Clone Wars. The Republic is gone. The galaxy has changed. And now, the last clone trooper searches for answers with the help of a New Republic historian.

🍋 "Martyrs and Kings AND ZOMBIES!!!" 🍋 - a spooky, sexy one-shot sequel.

Jedi

Cal Kestis

Request: "Cuddles of consolation after a bad day" (GN)

501st Legion

Rex x Reader

🍋 "No Sleep Till Coruscant" 🍋

Request: "Soft looks while cuddling" (GN)

Jesse x Reader

Jesse First Kiss Ficlet (GN)

🍋 "In Which Jesse Gets What He Deserves" (AKA the cuddlefuck fic) 🍋  

🍋"She's Such a Scream"🍋  

Hardcase x Reader

"A Question of Seman-dicks" (GN)

"Hey, Sunshine 💙" (GN)

Dogma x Reader

Quote prompt ficlet (GN)

Tup x Reader

Tup fanart!

🍋 "Do It Again" 🍋

🍋 "Tup à Trois"🍋

The Bad Batch

Hunter x Reader

First kiss ficlet (GN)

🍋 "I Wish All Readers a Very Hunter Life Day"🍋

Crosshair x Reader

"I Know." (GN)

"The Plant Prowler of Pabu" (GN)

🍋"Too Early"🍋

Tech x Reader

Request: "Feeling the rumble of their chest when they talk while cuddling/Needing their cuddles even though they have something else to do" (GN)

Request: "Putting your ear against their heart" (GN)

Wrecker x Reader

Request: "Trying to crawl under their shirt" (GN)

212th Attack Battalion

Commander Cody x Reader

"Someday" (GN)

🍋"The Night Before Someday"🍋 (GN)

Boil x Reader

"Double, Double Boil and Trouble (Part 1)" (GN)

"Double, Double Boil and Trouble (Part 2)"

"Double, Double Boil and Trouble (Part 3)"

🍋"Double, Double Boil and Trouble (Part 4)🍋

Art: "Boil deserves to feel pretty" (mildly 🍋. Let's say 🍊)

🍋"Double, Double Boil and Trouble (Part 5)"🍋

Waxer x Reader

"The Sixth Language (part 1)"

"The Sixth Language (part 2)"

"The Sixth Language (part 3)"

🍋 "The Sixth Language (part 4)" 🍋

"The Sixth Language (epilogue)"

104th Battalion - Wolfpack

Wolffe x Reader

"Sweet as Summer Rain"

🍋"Just a Little Bit More"🍋

Other Clones

Alpha-17 x Reader

🍋"Who's the Alpha Now?" 🍋 (GN)

🍋"Who's the Alpha Now? Part 2"🍋

Hound x Reader

🍋 “Watch and Learn, City Boy 🍋

T version | 🍋 E version 🍋

Neyo x Reader

🍋 "Everybody Hates Neyo." 🍋

🍋 "Everybody Hates Neyo Round 2: Matchmaking Boogaloo" 🍋 (reader got converted to OC)

Neyo first kiss ficlet (GN)

Mayday x Reader

Accidental first kiss ficlet (GN)

"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 1" (collaboration with @nika6q)

"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 2" 

🍋"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 3" 🍋

🍋"A Match for Mayday, Chapter 4" 🍋

O'Niner x Reader

🍋 "Nine Lives for Sergeant O'Niner" 🍋 (cowritten with @anxiouspineapple99) 

Sev (RC-1207) x Reader

"Are You Sure About This?" (GN)

🍋 “Turn It Up When You’re Gone.” 🍋 Part 1

🍋 “Turn It Up When You’re Gone.” 🍋 Part 2

🍋 “Turn It Up When You’re Gone.” 🍋 Part 3

Mandalorians

Jango Fett x Reader

"Promises and Pastry"  

Fenn Rau x Reader

🍋 Fenn Rau Thots 🍋

"The Protector of Chopper Base" (GN)

Request: Falling Asleep in Each Other's Arms (GN)

Please don't put my work through AI programs or repost elsewhere. Also, if you’d like custom dividers, feel free to send a request via DM or Ask; I love designing these! But please don’t use mine without permission.

[the-cantina]

Sweet Torture | Rex x f!Reader

Pinned post | Masterlist | The Bad Batch | Clone Squads | Delta Squad

Summary: Rex regrets all of his life choices as you make him swallow his pride in the best – worst – way.

18+ themes below the cut. Be responsible about the content you consume, if you're not of adult age in your country, do the both of us a favor and go away.

Ficlet | Mature | Word Count: 856 Contents: Cockwarming, Rex gradually losing his battle against lust

Mando'a terms Di'kut: Idiot | Ner kar'ta: my heart

Datapad in one hand, Rex watches you scroll through yet another article that caught your attention in the last twenty minutes you’ve both been sitting together in the spacious hotel’s bathtub. He sighs. Not for the first time — and hardly the last — his head rolls back, seeking some comfort in the decorative tiling of the bathtub’s edge; hoping the cold material will fight, even if minimally, the heat sweltering underneath his skin.

Looking for any distraction from the sweet torture of your nude form pressed to his front, Rex risks a peek at the device in your hands, wondering what had your attention this time.

Biting on the inside of his cheek is all he can do to keep in the moan clawing its way up his chest, when his eyes glance at the word lingerie and the picture of a lacy set in the perfect blue and white of his armor. And if there was a time Rex ever hated the tactical focus engineered into him by the long-necks, it was now.

Closing his eyes would only make his mind work overtime to turn whatever glimpses it caught and feed him all the scenarios he had no need of thinking of at the moment. At least, not if he didn’t want to embarrass himself like a shiny making out for the first time.

With another sigh, Rex can’t help but look back at his younger, unwise three hours younger self with petty contempt.

Had he not been a cocky di’kut, bragging with all the overconfidence of a cadet fresh out of their first successful training session about his “unbreakable focus”, maybe he would be in a better situation now.

Instead, he sits in the bathtub with your back flush with his chest, the soft warmth of your inner thighs bracketing his, your head resting back on his shoulder, giving him an unimpeded view of your chest. Of the way the lips of your cunt — your slick, warm, maddeningly pulsing cunt — stretches to accommodate around his cock. All things that would spell paradise, if not for the fact you are not moving a single kriffing inch on top of him, content to feel him throb inside of you, unaffected by the need tearing him from the inside out.

“Something wrong, ner kar’ta?” your voice, sweet like wild honey, breaks him from his thoughts. It takes Rex longer than acceptable for to pry his eyes open; longer yet to focus past the haze woven by the throbbing tempo drumming low in between his legs to find your gaze pinned on him.

He is mildly aware his voice rumbles in his chest, and assumes he must have mumbled you an answer. One that doesn’t reach — ever gets processed by his own ears — not with the way he’s busy drowning in your eyes. The hazy glint on them, the heaviness of your eyelids, the minute way your eyebrows tilt up when his hips curl up without his - and more importantly, your permission.

It’s enough to break whatever spell was weaving between the two of you.

Rex cursed himself as your gaze sharpened almost as much as the smirk growing on your lips as you looked pointedly at his hand. His own datapad — the one where he should fill reports in — groaned pitifully on his grasp, the edge near his thumb now sporting a small, concerning rainbow line.

And if he wasn’t so focused on not making a mess of himself, Rex might have bothered with forcing down the heat prickling from the tip of his ears to the last inch of his chest.

Gathering enough of his voice for a proper answer took every last thread of self-control ingrained from years of training, but at last, a wheezed “I’m fine, beloved.” made its way out of his lips.

“Then settle, love. I’m trying to read”, you chided in a satisfied purr that fell like the sweetest of caresses on his ears; a caress his hyper-aware senses feast in like a ravenous nexu.

Your back presses firmer against his overheated skin, and Rex squeezes his eyes until stars spark behind them, holding on the datapad and long-forgotten fruit in his hands like they were the only things threading him to sanity.

Breathe in, hold. Breathe out, repeat; C’mon Rex, you can do it. It’s just like in the old resistance training—

But then you decide to make yourself even cozier, hips shifting on his too-sensitive cock, your oh-so-warm, silky walls squeeze and rub him in all the right ways. His datapad meets the floor with a concerning crack, and the now ruined peach slice oozes sticky between his fingers.

You preen at your obvious victory, and Rex whines on the crook of your neck as the vibrations of your chuckling extend way past his chest.

And when you are finally moving, and Rex is sure he’s about to pass out. The ever winding coil in his core tightens to the point he can barely breathe. Fett preserve him. He felt he was about to die with every roll of your hips…

But karking hells, what a wonderful way to go.

★ And if you got to the bottom of this post, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! It helps me know you like what I share with you, and fuels me to share more ★

[kaminocasey]

Shy Boys Go to Heaven

Summary: Fixer doesn't like how much Scorch cozied up to you. He intends to show you that you're his and only his.

Pairing: Delta Squad!Fixer x F Medic!Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+; SMUT, Possessive/Jealous!Fixer, P in V (unprotected; wrap it up friends), oral (f receiving), cum eating, Rough sex. (If I missed something, lemme know)

WC: 3.1K

A/N: Guys... I was like possessed while writing this. Lmao. I genuinely don't know where this sudden love for Fixer came from bc literally the man pissed me off yesterday while I was reading. But c'est la vie, right? Anyway... I think I'm gonna start writing more Rep Comm fics. I'm still working on the Ordo x Reader x Mereel one, don't worry!

Taglist Form

“Ma’am.” Scorch winks at you, as he and the other Deltas walk into the medbay. 

“Well, hello boys.” You smile. “Long time no see.”

“Only a few weeks.” Scorch teases.

Sev and Boss both nod in greeting toward you, taking off their helmets, but once you see Fixer’s familiar green armor, your whole body goes warm just as it does anytime you see him. It was still a secret to everyone, including his own brothers, that you and Fixer would hook up anytime they’d come planetside. You weren’t exactly official or anything, but you enjoyed each other’s company. He wasn’t exactly chatty or anything, as he was a man of few words, so you did most of the talking. 

Fixer nods, his helmet still on, but you know he’ll find you later, so you give him a flirtatious grin as you go to help Scorch and Sev stock up on their medical supplies.

“So, when are you gonna join the field?” Scorch teases, bumping you slightly. “We could always use a skilled medic.”

“Leave the poor woman alone, Scorch.” Boss rolls his eyes before walking over to Alai, your pretty coworker. 

Fixer told you once that Alai and Boss hooked up a couple times, but never became anything serious. But he wasn’t supposed to know that, and Alai never told you, so the two of you weren’t the only ones with secrets. 

“When are you gonna stop asking me?” You tease Scorch back.

“When you cave to my charm and good looks and say yes.” Scorch winks. 

With a roll of your eyes, you turn to look at Fixer, finding him more rigid than usual. Why hasn’t he taken his helmet off? 

You let Scorch and Sev do their thing as you walk over to Fixer, looking up into his visor. “You alright?” 

He nods once, which is code for “Not really, but we’ll talk about it later.” and you know it’s a promise. With a soft sigh, you pat his hand and go sit at your desk, pulling up your end of day data reports.

“How long are you boys planetside?” You ask them. 

“Til tomorrow. Why, you trying to join us for a night of fun?” Scorch flirts.

You shake your head with a laugh, but before you can say anything, Fixer tosses Scorch another crate, barely giving the other man time to catch it, and walks out.

“What’s his deal?” Scorch asks Sev, who just shrugs, taking the crate to stock it. 

You know you can’t go after him. If you do, it’ll raise suspicion, which you know is the last thing that Fixer wants. So, you just hope that you’ll see him later.

Later that night, back at your apartment, you can’t stop thinking about Fixer. What if he doesn’t come tonight? What if the real reason he was so stiff and rigid is because he wants to end it with you? You’ve been doing a lot of thinking the last few months, and you’ve come to the realization that you want this thing with Fixer to be more permanent… But if he doesn’t… then, you’ll have to accept it and move on. No matter how much it hurts. 

As you make a cup of tea, preparing for bed, you hear the front door open and you know immediately who it is. You don’t even have to look. 

But, he’s the one who left so swiftly and suddenly earlier, so he can be the one to initiate the conversation tonight, which you know is something he’s not particularly fond of doing. You aren’t going to sleep with him until he talks, though. A conversation has to be had, no matter what conversation it is.

You hear heavy footsteps make their way to your room as you make your bed down. 

“Hey.” You murmur, barely glancing at him in the doorway of your room.

He doesn’t say anything, though. He walks over to “his” side of the bed, but you put your hand up, stopping him. He’s not wearing his armor anymore, but he is in just his bodysuit. You try to avoid looking at his well-toned form, looking him in the face.

Fixer tilts his head.

“Nothing to say?” You ask, quietly, waiting for him to just say something, but he doesn’t. “Of course not…”

He looks down at your fluffy comforter he loves so much, which he’s mentioned a couple times before. 

“Fixer.” You sigh, making him look up at you with those deep warm brown eyes that you adore so much.

He sighs with a soft grunt running his hand through his curls, clearly frustrated. 

“You have to give me something.” You crawl on the bed, settling in the middle on your knees. 

He’s eyeing the soft skin of your thighs that’s showing in your short silk pajama set. It’s his favorite pair, and you know it. Maybe you’re using it to your advantage. He looks like he wants to touch you, but isn’t letting himself. 

“If you want to fuck me tonight… you have to let me in.” You do your best to look at him, firmly.

“I…” He starts, rolling his eyes as he struggles to say what he wants to say. “Ugh. Scorch… knows that I… feel things… for you.”

“And?” 

“And… he flirts with you… to get under my skin.” Fixer’s gripping the comforter, his fists tight. “And it works. I hate that it works, cyar’ika.” 

“Why?” 

“Why what?” 

“Why do you hate it?” 

“Because…” He struggles again. 

You crawl to him, running your hands up his chest, making his tight fists let go of the sheets. His calloused hands run around your soft body, pulling you against each other. His eyes are on your lips. 

Stay firm, you remind yourself. Who cares if he’s second in command in one of the most intimidating commando squads? Not you. You are not giving in first. 

“Please, Fixer.” You sigh. “I was under the impression you wanted to end things with me.”

“Oh… That’s not it at all.” He murmurs. “I promise.” 

Maker, he smells so fucking good. Too good. 

“So, what is it, then?” You pull away, sitting back on your butt in the middle of the bed, needing a little space before you cave.

He climbs up into the bed, pushing you on your back, pinning you down. 

“Fixer-” You start.

“Just listen, will you?” He asks, gently, but also strained. 

You nod, letting him continue. 

“You, cyar’ika… are mine. Only mine. You belong to me. The thought of any other man touching you, or even speaking to you…” You hear a low frustrated rumble in his throat. “If Scorch wasn’t my vod, I’d have ripped him apart.” 

You didn’t know that Fixer feels this way about you, but it does something to your insides and goes straight to your warmth. Does he know how you feel about him? Surely, he does.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Fixer asks, lowly, his lips so close to yours.

You nod, losing yourself in those brown orbs and breathlessly murmur, “Yes.” 

“Say it then.” Fixer whispers, even closer to lips. “I need to hear it.” 

You think this might be the most he’s ever said in an entire night. And fuck, if they’re not the hottest words any man has ever said to you… 

“I’m yours.” You bite your lip, trying to squeeze your legs together for some sort of release. “I belong to you, Fixer.”

“That’s right.” He smiles, softly. “Good girl.”

Unable to hold back any longer, you reach up, crushing your lips to his. He groans loudly against your mouth, pressing himself against you, making you feel just how hard he is. All from hearing you tell him you belong to him. 

“You like hearing that you belong to me?” He hums.

You nod, whimpering as he grinds his hardened cock against your clothed core. “Y-yes.”

“Good.” He whispers before, pulling away to pull your shorts down, dropping them to the floor behind him. 

“Clothes off-” You gasp as he grips your thighs.

Fixer chuckles, getting up off the bed quickly. “Yes, ma’am.” 

As you watch him drop his clothes with yours, you sit up to pull your silky tank top off, tossing it with the rest. He takes in your naked form and groans, gripping his cock, already dripping precum. 

You start back toward him, eager to get your mouth on him, but he pushes you back again and then, to your surprise, flips you over onto your stomach, pulling you up on your knees and then pressing your face down so that your ass is up. 

You think he’s gonna push his cock into you, unable to wait any longer, but he surprises you once again, by licking a long stripe up your drenched folds.

“Oh, Fuck… Fix…” You groan, reaching above you to grip the comforter, just as he was doing earlier. 

“Taste so good, sweetheart.” He murmurs against your cunt. “Like always.” 

You whimper softly, almost pathetically, when he continues licking into you, his strong fingers, pressing against your clit and rubbing expertly, as always. 

“So wet.” He teases.

“So talkative.” You tease back, just happy to hear him talking. 

He places a swift smack to your back cheek and you gasp sharply into the room. He rubs the spot where he spanked you and then kisses it before returning back to your soaked pussy.

Your moans fill the room as he continues to work your cunt, getting you nice and soaked for his cock, soon you hope. You want so desperately to be filled by him again. It feels like it’s been too long. 

Twenty-six days. But who’s counting?

When he reaches his fingers into you, you feel like you’re about to come right then. It’s been days since you even touched yourself, and you’re pretty sure Fixer can tell. 

He chuckles breathlessly. “So needy for me.”

“Mmhmm.” You groan, burying your whimpers into the covers. 

“So fucking tight… Can’t wait to sink my cock into you.” He rambles.

You’ve always been accepting that he was a man of few words, but tonight… something changed. Like some sort of switch inside of him, flipped the other way. He’s talking, quietly, and Maker, you love his voice. It’s so low, and so sensual, and goes straight to your warmth. 

“Why… wait?” You bounce yourself on his fingers.

“Patience, cyar’ika… Or I’ll make you fuck your own fingers.” He threatens you. 

You whine softly, looking back at him and he grins before burying his face in your cunt again, still thrusting his fingers into you, starting to tease that spongy part deep inside of you. The warm familiar feeling pools into you, spreading all the way to your toes, making them curl and before you know it, you’re cumming all over Fixer’s fingers and tongue, moaning into the mattress.

“Let me fucking hear you.” He reaches up to grab your hair, pulling so that your moans and wet sounds fill the entire room. 

His thrusting fingers gently slow, before pulling out of you. You pant slightly, as you fall to the bed, rolling over to look up at him, smiling blissfully. 

“Fuck me… please?” You whisper. 

“I will, I promise.” He murmurs, laying next to you. 

The look in his eyes is serious now, not playful like it was just moments ago. 

“What is it?” You trace your gentle fingers over his chest, anxiously making lazy patterns.

“I’m afraid that I sounded overbearing earlier…” He stops your hand and brings it to his lips.

This is the softest, most domestic that he’s ever been with you, and you’re almost afraid to move, not wanting it to end. 

“I didn’t think you did.” You assure him. 

“I don’t want to like… own you.” He chuckles. “But… I guess what I’m trying to say is… I want people to know you- we belong to each other.”

Your chest tightens at his confession and you can’t help but reach up and kiss him. It’s different somehow. Like, all of your kisses before were that of passion or lust… this is… sweet… kind. Fixer sighs against your lips, full of content. 

“Next time Scorch flirts with me, I’ll just punch him if you want?” You tease. 

“Actually, yes please.” He laughs and you cross your leg over his thigh. 

This is the first time you’ve ever heard him laugh fully and you try to commit the sound to memory, hoping that you get to hear it more.

“What made you come to this realization?” You ask.

“Oh, I always want to punch Scorch.” He smirks.

You playfully smack him in the chest, making him chuckle. 

“I was on a mission… and I thought for sure we were going to die…” Fixer murmurs, making your stomach churn. “All I could think of was you. Your smile. Your laugh. Your kindness. The way you curl up next to me at night. The way you-” You roll over on top of him, straddling him, grinding your wet folds over his still hard cock. “Keep going.” 

“Fuck…” He groans, gripping your hips tightly. “The way that you cry at holofilms…”

You lift your hips, reaching under you and grabbing his cock, making him gasp. 

“Th-the way y-you…” He struggles.

“Keep. Going.” You encourage him, smiling down at him as you line yourself up with his hardened length. 

“Th-the way you have to stop to say hi to every loth cat-” He groans incredibly loud as you sink down onto him. “Fuck!”

His eyes roll back in his head as he tilts his head back slightly, making you smile. Clenching around him in a teasing manner, he lets out another string of curses. He fills you so perfectly, just like always. But tonight… it just feels like it means so much more. He feels the same way about you, that you do him. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, not a mission.” He grumbles. 

“Yeah, but what a way to go, right?” You grin down at him, brightly.

“I’ll fucking say.” He starts to buck up into you and you push him back down, keeping your hands against his chest. 

You start to lift up slightly, only to fall back down against him, making him actually whimper. It’s always music to your ears when you get that sound out of Fixer. 

“Maker, Fix… you’re so hard.” You tell him, seduction clear in your tone and his hands fly up to yours on his chest, gripping your hands, creating more support. 

He wants you to take over. And you’re happy to oblige. You start bouncing up and down on his cock, causing both of you to groan with need. 

The sounds leaving the man underneath you deserve to go into some sort of auditory museum, they’re so fucking beautiful. He’s so beautiful. 

“You like when I’m on top?” You ask him, breathlessly, squatting so you can glide up and down on his cock, easier. 

“Stars, yes…” He pants. “So… tight.”

You feel the burn in your thighs but you’re able to ignore it, purely driven by the craving for this man. He must sense it though, because he provides support under you, gripping your ass, helping lift you up and down and you can’t help but smile. He winks up at you and it goes straight to your core. You can tell he’s getting closer with each thrust, though.

“Permission to take over?” He whispers.

“Granted, trooper.” You laugh. 

He flips the two of you over, so that you’re on your back and starts driving into you. 

Oh, he’s definitely welcome to take over. 

“So fucking pretty… and perfect.” He groans in your ear, continuously slamming into you, getting the most perfect sounds out of you. “All mine.”

As he tells you that you’re his, his hips stutter only slightly, filling you up, painting your walls with himself. Normally, he’d start to pull away, but he just keeps fucking his cum into you, and honestly, it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. And then when he pulls out, you expect him to stop, but he doesn’t. 

He travels down your body, latching his mouth to your cunt again and you nearly descend into another realm. 

“Fuck…” You moan, still overstimulated from earlier. 

He’s never done this before, cumming in you and then going down on you again. But you’re not complaining. His tongue feels way too good, but with the way that it's moving in you… it takes you a moment to realize he’s gathering up his cum as he rubs your clit. Before you can even say anything, another orgasm is ripped from your body, and he travels back up your body and taps your lips, clearly wanting you to open your mouth. Oh. You gladly open for him and he lets his cum slide into your mouth.

“Swallow for me, sweetheart.” He smirks.

Who are you to deny a dangerous commando? You do as you’re told, swallowing his cum, appreciating the taste of him like you normally do when you go down on him. 

“Good girl.” He tells you again for the second time tonight, and then kisses you, proudly. 

You both pant against each other, your chests heaving, as you try to come down. He pulls you up to the head of the bed, against the pillows, wrapping his arms around you.

You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You’ve always found it calming. 

“Maybe I should join your squad…” You tease, only slightly. 

“Absolutely not.” Fixer shakes his head as he traces patterns over your bare back. 

“Why not?” You ask, looking up at him, confused.

“Because I wouldn’t be able to focus… I’d be too busy trying to make sure you were okay.” He smiles. “I like knowing you’re here… safe and sound.”

You suppose that makes sense… Even though, when he’s away, you don’t know if he’s safe.

“Can I tell you something?” You whisper, afraid to speak too loudly.

“Anything.” He kisses your forehead.

“Every time you go, you take a piece of me with you, Fix.” You admit. 

“Can I tell you something?” He murmurs.

“Of course.” You answer, nervously.

“Every time I go, I leave my heart here with you.” He admits. 

Warmth floods your veins. “Well, I promise to keep it safe.” 

“I know you will.” He leans down to kiss you again.

You eventually fall asleep like that, holding each other with sweet promises of him returning to you and you keeping his heart safe and sound. 

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @misogirl828 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @quigonswife8 @idlenesses @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @brownstalebread @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz

[demxters]

—LOVING YOU IS ENOUGH

frat!jake seresin x f!reader

dagger squad college!au

summary: a week after the fight that tore you apart, jake finds out about the accident. (part 2 of a losing game)

wc: 9.3k 

warning(s): 18+, fem!reader, no y/n (reader goes by nickname ace), recommended to read a losing game first, angst galore, swearing, mentions of alcohol, drunk driving (don't do it), bad parental relationships, academic pressure, hospitals, description of injuries 

part of the loving you universe || find it on ao3 here

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!

Jake Seresin used to think he had no regrets in his life. Every time he was close to feeling as if that were so, the universe found a way to turn it around and prove to him that he made the right choice. Choosing to go to USC for instance, instead of staying in his home state of Texas, he thought was the biggest mistake he had made in his life. Then USC led him to Delta Chi where he made lifelong friends, and ultimately he met you. So no, Jake Seresin had no regrets in life. Yet as he sat under the fluorescent white lights of the sterile hospital waiting room, Jake was able to think of one. 

All the days passed by in a blur, with Jake finding himself in a robotic routine that helped him get through the day:

Wake up 

Go to class

Eat 

Do not think about Ace 

Nap 

Eat 

Do not think about Ace 

(attempt to) Sleep

It wasn’t the healthiest of routines, but it was enough to keep him surviving. At least until he began receiving your texts. Your apologies and declarations of love made him weak, making it much harder for him to stand his ground and give himself the space that he told himself he needed. With each passing day, he found it harder to convince himself that space is what he actually wanted. So he silenced your notifications. The bright red badge continued to grow in number and it took all of his power to not give in and click your contact. 

By the fifth day, Jake thought he was actually doing pretty well. He was even studying for his finals and going to every single one of his study groups that you had suggested he try. Even as one thing or another always led back to a reminder of you, his self control was much more restrained and he felt just a little bit lighter. 

Jake missed you like hell, that was for sure. But maybe this fight was a sign for him to work on himself. To be better not just for you, but for himself as well. 

So he did what he thought was best by pulling a page from your book and choosing to throw himself into his work. He shut everyone out, refusing to go to any outings with Javy and the gang. He didn’t answer his phone and barely left his room other than to go to classes or use the bathroom. Jake ignored the fact that in doing so, he was neglecting his physical and mental health. In turn, making this coping strategy of his more harmful than good. While he thought his obsession with his isolation and studying was “making himself better,” he didn’t realize that the only thing he was really doing was actively avoiding the problem at hand. 

But as day seven rolled around, Jake’s fake it till you make it attitude came crashing down. Upon returning back to his and Javy’s shared room in the Frat House after his final exam, Jake fell onto his bed and finally let himself feel. 

Jake Seresin has never felt so alone. After days of avoiding, he gave himself permission to think about you–to miss you. Remembering the last time he saw you and the last moment you shared, he could feel the tears that began to gather on his lash line. Too tired to hold it in, he let his emotions go. He let the sobs and cries for help he has been burying in his chest break free. He was tired, so damn tired, of pretending like everything was okay. Like he was okay. 

He wanted someone to notice that something was off with him, that something happened to make him feel absolutely miserable in his own skin. However, everyone was too caught up in their own whirlwinds of final exams, studying, and relationships to notice that Jake was struggling to stay afloat without his life preserver–without you. 

His heart ached and longed for you. Your voice, your touch, your love. If he could take it all back he would. He would’ve come back to you without a second thought. Jake would have gathered you in his arms and sat with you all night long until the two of you could work it out. Because he wasn’t Hangman anymore. He wouldn’t leave you out to dry. Yet somehow he managed to do exactly that. 

With the only thing on his mind being you, he finally mustered up the courage to read all of the texts you had sent him days prior. The first few made his heart ache, reading your heartfelt apologies and declarations of love was enough to make him start crying all over again. Teary eyed smiles graced his features at your small anecdotes and pictures of things that reminded you of him. 

He could hear your voice and see your mannerisms in his head at each text he reads through. 

Jake’s euphoria is interrupted by the fifth call he has received from Natasha. He rolls his eyes before immediately declining her call. Nat probably finally talked to you about what happened and he figured she was calling to rip him a new one. He definitely wasn’t in the mood for that right now. 

His smile grows as he scrolls through his phone, especially at the photo of a golden retriever you saw on campus that “looked like him.” A playful scoff leaves him at that as he imagines the way you would’ve jumped up and down on the tips of your toes, clutching onto his arm, as you justified how he was a golden retriever in human form. This was the closest he felt to you in days and he wished for it to never end. 

Jake continued on, savoring every good night and “I love you” text, every apology, and every good luck you wished him on his exams. Though one series of texts was enough to have the fullness in Jake’s heart flushed empty. He reads them over and over again, praying that he read them wrong. 

I failed my exams, Jake. I don’t know what to do. 

His heart skips a beat. 

I can’t go home this summer. I won’t. I can’t face my parents, they’ll hate me forever. 

But the worst of them all, the one he begs was a prank being played on him by the universe read: I’m taking your silence as a sign that I’ve fucked us up beyond repair. I love you, Jake Seresin, even if you no longer love me.

He’s going to be sick. Sure he was mad, but he never wanted you to ever think that he didn’t love you anymore. That was just a statement that could never be true. Jake was done wallowing. He was done making you both suffer because he wasn’t man enough to confront you. Swallowing his fears and his pride, he begins formulating a text to ask you to meet him at The Hard Deck–somewhere familiar, though not too intimate just yet. 

He’s about to press send when a phone call from Javy interrupts his screen. Jake instantly presses decline, however, he barely has another second before Javy’s name pops up again. 

With an agitated sigh, Jake finally answers the phone, swearing up and down that whatever he was calling for better be something good. “The hell you want, Javy?” 

“Jake–” he starts. 

“Look, I’ve been getting calls from Nat all day and I’m assuming that’s why you’re calling me right now,” Jake vents. “But I really, really don’t have time for a lecture from either of you right now, man.” 

“Jake.” Javy’s voice shifts into something more somber, more serious. “Ace’s been in an accident.” 

It’s as if his feet have processed the information long before his brain did. Jake blacks out, barely recognizing the actions in which he’s pulling on his shoes and rushing out of his room and into the common living area. 

The air is knocked out of his lungs, forcing him to grasp for leverage on the edge of the table. Jake can hear Bradley asking what’s wrong but all he can focus on is Javy’s breathing, the sound of people rushing around in the background. The phone slips from his hand and he feels like his entire rib cage is caving in on itself, crushing his heart. Black spots swim on his vision and there’s a hand on his chest telling him to breathe.

“Come on, Seresin,” Bradley’s voice comes through. “Breathe.” 

A heavy exhale escapes him as he desperately tries to catch his breath. He’s muttering an incoherent string of words, stumbling his way through the room and trying to get to the front door. 

Bradley is right on his tail, yanking on his own pair of shoes and grabbing the phone that Jake haphazardly dropped on the floor in the middle of his attack. “You gotta tell me what’s going on, man, you’re scaring me.” 

Jake abruptly stops at the front door, turning to look at Bradley over his shoulder with something worse than heartbreak in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything more other than, “Ace. It’s Ace.” 

That’s all Bradley needs to hear before he’s grabbing the car keys from Jake’s hands and dialing Javy’s number back into Jake’s phone. 

Jake could hardly remember when he got to the hospital, let alone how he was able to navigate himself to get to the ER without help when the only thing on his mind was you. He couldn’t even recall what Javy had said about the extent of your injuries, just that you were still unconscious from the car accident. 

Upon reaching the ER Jake saw Nat sitting in the waiting room with her head in her hands while Javy sat beside her and gently rubbed a comforting hand up and down her back. 

Bradley and Jake’s heavy footsteps alert the couple. Nat’s head shoots up, her red rimmed and teary eyes locking on Jake’s. She’s storming over in seconds, pushing at his chest angrily. 

“Why the hell didn’t you pick up your phone?” 

“Nat–” he starts, only to be silenced with another harsh shove. He takes the brunt of the hit, knowing he deserved every single one and worse. “I’m sorry.” Jake winces at how pathetic he sounds. 

Natasha shakes her head with disappointment clouding her features. “Sorry isn’t gonna fix this.” 

Javy joins the group, nodding at Bradley as he gestures for him to sit down. He places a hand on Jake’s shoulder asking him to do the same. He only brushes Javy’s hand off, taking a step closer to Nat. 

“Is she…is she okay?” He braces himself for the worst. Jake’s heart beats so fast against his ribcage that he swears he could feel the muscle begin to ache. 

Natasha inhales shakily before collapsing into the nearest seat. “I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” The fear in his veins begins to mix with annoyance and fury. The rational side of him knew he shouldn’t be mad at Nat, but the only thing occupying his thoughts was the idea of you not being okay. Having to hear that you were in the hospital was already bad enough. He doesn’t think he could take anything more. 

“I mean, I don’t know!” Nat’s voice rises with that same frustration and fear. “All the lady on the phone said was that she was in a car accident with four other people from our school. From what I understand, the others made it out okay, but the car that t-boned them…” Her voice wavers, recalling the words she heard earlier that evening and imagining the worst. “The other car hit Ace’s side head on. She took most of the impact. The other four made it out okay with barely any scratches.” 

Jake’s hands are shaking as he braces them on his knees, desperate to catch his breath. He didn’t realize his knees had hit the floor until he felt the sting from the solid ground. But he didn’t have it in him to care about anything other than you right now. Jake desperately tries to piece everything together from your texts from the night before but nothing was making sense. Everything he was trying to understand came out between shallow breaths. “Where did she go? Why was she out so late? Who was she with? Why weren’t any of you with her?” 

“Jake,” Bradley interferes, squeezing his shoulder as a gentle reminder to breathe. 

Jake catches the way Javy clenches his jaw from the corner of his eye which has him demanding answers. “Javy.” There was something his friends weren’t telling him, making the searing hot anger in his blood begin to boil. 

Nat saves her boyfriend by giving up the information for him. “Before you get upset, you need to understand that she didn’t tell any of us where she was going. None of us had really seen her lately and just assumed she was stressed out from finals. We didn’t think things were this bad.” 

“What aren’t you guys telling me?” 

“Jake,” Javy starts cautiously. He kneels down beside his friend, speaking nice and slow, almost like he was conversing with a child. “If we tell you, you have to promise to stay calm.” 

He scoffs in disbelief, rolling his eyes at his best friend. “How do you think I’ll be able to stay calm? I just found out my girlfriend has been in an accident and no one wants to tell me what the hell is going on!” 

“Javy, just tell him. He deserves to know,” Bradley sighs. 

“Damn right, I deserve to know. I’m her boyfriend!” Jake’s seething as he gets up and starts pacing back and forth. People are beginning to stare but he doesn’t give a damn. 

It’s Nat’s turn to grow agitated. “Really? Because last I heard the two of you were on a break.” 

“Wait, what?” Javy looks at his best friend in bewilderment. 

Nat shoots him a look that says, I’ll explain it all later. 

“Doesn’t matter if we were on a break or not. She’s still my girl and I need to know what happened.” 

The conviction in his tone and the strength on his face are enough to make Javy and Nat cave. Hiding this from him would only make things worse than they already were. 

Nat doesn’t dare to meet Jake’s eye as she says, “She was with some Alpha Sigs and their girlfriends. Everyone in the car was intoxicated. Even the guy at the wheel. They were coming from the Alpha Sig house. I don’t know what the hell they were doing in a car like that but I know the Sigs are in interrogation with the police right now.” 

Bradley clenches his fist. “Those bastards.” 

“Ace was the only one whose condition was critical.” The word critical falls short on her tongue, being whispered into the tense atmosphere. 

Jake’s silence is unnerving. They were expecting an outburst of some sort. Some screaming, maybe even some physical aggression yet not of it came. The sound that fell from Jake’s lips was worse than anything they could’ve imagined. 

It was as if everyone in the room heard his heartbreak as he was unable to control the tears that fell from his eyes. The feeling of overwhelming guilt rushed over him at the realization that he should have been there. That this was all his fault. You would have never humored the idea of an Alpha Sig party in the first place if the two of you had just talked everything out. But you weren’t thinking straight, and neither was he, leading the both of you towards the path of least resistance. Instead, Jake had to be stubborn and sensitive. He couldn’t just man up and admit that you were more important than his ego and pride. 

Nothing matters to him anymore upon his epiphany other than needing to see you. You were the only one that could help him. 

“I need to see her,” he says through nasally breaths. 

During Jake’s spiral, Nat had let tears of her own fall. “They’re not letting any of us see her right now. Just family.” The last part tastes like acid on her tongue. 

“We’re her family. They need to let me see her,” he begs. Jake remembers you telling him that he and your friends were truly the only family you have ever known. 

“Biological, Jake. We can’t. Not until her parents get here.” She doesn’t even try to hide the scowl on her face. 

“Well, where the hell are they?” Jake questions. 

“Bora Bora? Or was it Barbados? I have no fucking clue. The nurse said it sounded like they were more upset about their vacation being cut short than their own daughter being in the hospital.” 

Jake hates that he wasn’t too surprised to hear that. How ironic that the real people you considered family were here and yet they wouldn’t even let them see you. 

Jake swallows, trying his best to ignore the stickiness of his throat. “Then I guess I’m staying here until then.” 

Javy, Natasha, and Bradley share a look of uncertainty at his words. Certainly, it wasn’t healthy for him to be there all day and all night waiting for your parents to get there. It was Jake’s determined look and sureness that also let them know that there was no talking him out of this. The three make a silent, unspoken pact to watch over the boy until then. 

Jake wasn’t giving up. Not now, not ever. Leaving you was the biggest mistake he has ever made. He was never going to let that happen again. 

Seventy-two hours later and Jake was still left in the dark about your condition. He desperately wanted to sneak into your room and see you. He was close to lying to the nurses and saying he was your cousin if that was what he needed to do. But the rest of his friends convinced him to be patient. Though it hurt, the pain lessened with them around. 

Like clockwork, the group would come to the hospital to wait for any news and to take care of Jake. The mornings would consist of Javy and Natasha bringing Jake a new change of clothes and breakfast. His afternoons were spent with Bradley dragging him back home to take a quick shower while Bob stayed at the hospital until they returned. The first day was like pulling teeth with Jake. The scene would have been quite amusing, if not for the seriousness of their situation. Bradley looked like he was dragging a child through the hospital with how stubborn Jake was being. A quick phone call to Javy had him fixing his attitude. 

“You don’t want the first impression Ace gets of you after so long to be that you stink, do you?” he had said. 

So he reluctantly obliged, returning back to the hospital freshly bathed under 45 minutes flat. 

Jake’s evenings were spent with Mickey and Reuben force feeding him dinner and trying to distract him with mediocre board games. 

The next day, the cycle would repeat. Then again on the next. Their distractions were welcomed and he appreciated how they have been there for the both of you through everything. When night fell and the waiting room emptied, Jake stayed right where he was. 

He would bury himself into the neck of his sweatshirt and try to get as much sleep as he could. Sleep didn’t come easy to Jake. All of the “what if’s” and the fear of missing the moment you’d wake clouded his thoughts to the point where sleep just seemed absolutely impossible. 

The only ones left in the waiting room were the few straggling family members waiting for their loved ones and the nurses who passed by every now and then. The dim lighting and eerie silence, bar the sound of heart monitors and the occasional code call, were more than enough to have the voices in Jake’s head amplify in volume. 

It was his own voice, berating him for not checking up on him sooner. For being hard headed and too full of pride to approach you first. It was Javy’s, telling him that you got into an accident. It was your last I love you. No, not last. He won’t entertain that idea. 

No matter how much he willed himself not to, he couldn’t help but think to the last time the both of you spoke. Jake hated himself for not saying those three words back to you. He never thought that one choice would lead to the possibility of never hearing your voice again, touching your soft skin, or seeing your bright eyes full of life. Of never loving you again. What hurt him the most though, was the possibility that your last thought of him may be that he didn’t love you anymore. That was far from the truth. 

He loved you more than he thought he was capable of loving someone. Jake has had his fair share of girlfriends and flings, but not one of them made him feel the way you did with something as simple as a look in his direction. That’s all it took with you. One look and Jake knew you were it for him. Nothing else mattered. 

Jake hated himself for making you doubt that. Jake hated himself for leaving that night and most of all he hated himself for not saying it back. Now, all he wanted to do was shower you in love and reassure you that despite the sting of your words, he never stopped loving you. He can’t imagine what he would’ve done if he was in your shoes. Right now, he wished he was. If he could be in your place and take your pain, he would. 

But he can’t and if something worse were to happen to you, Jake would be the one to live with that pain and burden. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if it came to that. 

It’s funny to think that three years ago, Jake would have rolled his eyes and scoffed at the image of himself being hopelessly in love. Now you were his everything–the thing he couldn’t imagine his life without. 

It was a miracle that he was able to fall asleep that night with no nightmares. The exhaustion must have finally caught up to him because his sleep was so deep that he woke up to Javy frantically shaking his shoulders to get him to wake. 

His eyes snapped open as he came to. His senses readjusted to the environment around him before remembering where he was and why he was there. 

Javy sounded like he was underwater as Jake shook himself awake. His vision finally clears and he sees the rest of his friends already there in the room. A quick glance outside was enough to tell him he slept through breakfast and probably lunchtime too. 

Jake, still feeling groggy, was completely disregarding everything his best friend was saying. He assumed he was being given the same spiel he’s heard for the past three days about needing to eat and take care of himself. 

Then Javy says something that has Jake snapping wide awake. 

He barely gives him another chance to repeat himself before Jake is scrambling to his feet with bleary eyes and disheveled hair. He had no other cares in the world right now other than to confirm that what Javy had said is true. 

The sweet nurse who Jake had familiarized himself with during his stay gently caught him by the wrist and tugged him towards the hall. 

“Her parents got here an hour ago, but since she woke she’s only been asking for you,” Nurse Donna informed him. 

A small flutter works its way around Jake’s rib cage and down to his stomach upon hearing her words. He can no longer contain the nerves that flood through his system as he continues to clumsily follow Donna, tripping over his own feet in the process. 

When Donna finally lets go of his wrist, he stops outside the door marked with your last name for just a moment. Hesitation and fear cloud his mind. Maybe Donna was mistaken. What if you weren’t actually asking for him? What if she had misheard? What if–

“It’s okay, honey. Go see your girl.” Donna urges him with an encouraging smile. 

His girl. God, he missed hearing that. He gives her a small nod of gratitude and exhales softly. Jake’s shaky hand reaches for the silver knob. Giving it a forceful push, he makes his way through the door frame. His feet skid to stop at the threshold and his breath hitches in his throat as he’s met with the sight of those beautiful eyes he’s been praying to see for days on end. 

Two Years Ago 

Jake didn’t understand why you were so cold towards him. You were even able to warm up to his frat brothers Javy and Reuben. He was dying for it to be his turn. It got to the point where Jake would just breathe while standing beside you and you’d let out a loud groan and move beside Bradley. 

Jake hated to admit that he was jealous of Bradley’s ability to get along with you so easily. After your little moment in the library, he thought things between the two of you would be easier, lighter. Instead, it became the absolute opposite and Jake was close to doing something stupid just so you would pay attention to him again. He doesn’t know why, but ever since that day in the library, he found himself desperate for your attention. He was filled with the satisfaction he used to get when flirting with sorority girls. He hasn’t been able to feel that since you. 

He doesn’t know what he did to make you dislike him so much. If only he knew, then maybe he could do something to rectify your predetermined notions of him. 

Even now as he attempted to butter up an Alpha Phi girl, his green eyes were constantly drawn back to your figure on the other side of the aisle. The high pitched voice of the girl in front of him turned into white noise as Jake zeroed in on you. Suddenly, getting this girl to come to the party tonight was the last thing on his mind. 

You hadn’t noticed him yet. If you had, you probably would’ve made a B-line toward the exit already. You were standing on your tiptoes with your tongue slightly poking out from the corner of your mouth. Brows furrowed in concentration, you desperately tried to grab a book on the top shelf. After a lousy first attempt, you try a second time. This time, you rock back on your heels for momentum before launching yourself upwards. Your second try is just as unsuccessful as your first. 

Jake shakes his head with amusement as he watches you try for a third time. Your third attempt was just as successful as the last two, leaving you standing empty handed. 

“Hey, Becky? Why don’t we finish this conversation another time, yeah?” He gently pats the girl on the arm, all while keeping his gaze trained on you. Jake barely waits for the girl’s response, missing her disgruntled correction of, My name’s Brittany! that falls from her lips. 

You’re staring heatedly at the book on the top shelf. He strides over to you, patiently waiting for you to notice him. He stands beside you, also looking up intently at the book, with his arms crossed over his chest. His lips quirk up at the corners as he notes the way your body tenses upon sensing his presence. 

All you do is roll back your shoulders as if preparing for one last jump. Jake stops you before you can even make your attempt. 

“Sit tight, Ace, your savior’s here.” His left hand hovers over the small of your back while he extends his right arm to reach the book you were looking for. An over dramatic sigh leaves his lips as he brings his arm down and hands the book out to you. His green eyes twinkle with delight as you cross your arms in annoyance. 

You turn to meet his gaze, your own stare burning into his. 

Jake’s stomach does the strangest thing upon catching your eye. He suddenly finds himself mesmerized by their beautiful color. The intensity of your stare makes him feel like you can see right through him, all the way into the depths of the most hidden parts of his soul. He could get lost in them if you let him. 

Breaking eye contact at the intensity of his gaze, you scoff, snatching the book from his hands. Swiftly turning on your heels, you make your way toward the end of the aisle. You stop right at the end and pause before turning over your shoulder to see Jake still eyeing you in bewilderment. “Careful on your way out, Seresin. Your head’s getting so big I’m afraid it might be a bit of a tight squeeze.” 

For once, his brain seems to have shut off and he’s unable to think up a cocky or witty remark. He watches you go with intrigue and admiration. His stomach does another somersault as he recalls the exact shade of your eyes and the sway of your hips.

 You are going to be the death of him. 

“Jake?” 

Just like that, he can finally breathe again. Tears gather in his eyes faster than his feet can bring him to the edge of the bed. Jake’s sweeping your hand that’s not hooked up to the IV in his and he lets out a breath of relief at the feeling of your skin on his. A feeling that he was afraid he’d never get to have again. 

“Jake,” you sigh, the moment his hand is in yours. You breathe his name like it was your first full breath of fresh air. It falls from your lips like a prayer. Soft, sweet, and full of conviction. 

He gives himself a moment to scan your body. Jake’s heart fractures even more than he thought was possible given everything he’s been through this past week. Upon seeing the state you were in, anguish crashes down onto his body. His shoulders feel heavy and his knees are weak at the sight of your pretty face all battered and bruised from various hits you took. There’s a nasty gash on your forehead that was barely holding itself together with the bandage that was placed there. Your right arm was in a cast and your left knee was propped up and wrapped up in a bandage of its own. He hopes that this was the worst of your injuries, but he knows that the extent of them goes deeper than what he can see with his naked eye. Your skin was adorned in a variety of scrapes and scratches, all of which Jake desperately wished he could kiss away. 

The shallow movements of your chest and the pained whimper that leaves your lips have him carefully running his other hand over the side of your head, softly soothing you. He bends down to gently rest his forehead against yours and the second his skin makes contact with yours, he’s unable to stop the tears that begin to fall. Jake’s eyes squeeze shut and the heaviness that has been pushing on his chest since the moment he walked away from you finally subsides. His grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly as if to tell himself you’re here, you’re alive, you’re okay. The same words leave him in a hushed whisper that he shares between the two of you. Though they were more of a reassurance for himself. 

A shaky exhale escapes you at his words and the way you’re gasping for air signifies that you’ve started crying as well. Part of it was from the tight pain in your chest and the other from the utter disbelief that this was real–that Jake was really here. 

The first thing you thought of the second you woke was Jake. You were positive that he wasn’t going to be there, but you desperately begged for him anyway. The shock on your parents' faces that clouded your vision quickly turned to disgust as you refused to listen to their words. Your mother had tried to reach out to you, but you thrashed in her touch and frantically shook your head as you cried out for Jake. 

You were in near hysterics and your parents were staring at you in shock and horror but you didn’t care. You didn’t care that they were there when all you wanted was Jake. 

Your mother begged Nurse Donna to sedate you. The sour look on Donna’s face was missed by your mother as she left the room. She thought that Donna had gone to grab the sedative. However, when she returned without a syringe and with a boy, your mother almost fainted. 

You, on the other hand, thought you were dreaming when you saw him walk through that door. You just couldn’t believe that even after everything, Jake was there. Then he touched you and you broke down. His scent invaded you. His touch that you’ve craved like a drug for days on end was finally yours again. The reality that he was there was more than enough to have you breaking down again. 

“I’m sorry,” you slur, still slightly drowsy from the medications. “I’m sorry,” you mutter over and over again as he places his forehead on yours. 

You feel him pull you closer and shush you gently as tears of his own run down his face. You did this. You made him cry. If your limbs weren’t so heavy and numb you would’ve brushed away all the tears that ran down his perfect face until his eyes were finally dry. 

Jake’s elation shatters at your words. You had absolutely nothing to be sorry for right now. If anything, he should be the one on his knees begging for your forgiveness. He opens his mouth to speak before getting cut off by someone in the corner of the room clearing their throat. 

Jake’s attention was so focused on you that he hadn’t noticed your parents standing there this entire time. Hot, white fury fuels him at the sight of them looking more bothered than worried for their daughter. 

“You didn’t tell us you had a boyfriend,” your mother practically sneers at him. 

Jake wills himself to pull it together, for your sake. 

“Mom–” you start. 

“How does that make you feel, son? Knowing your girlfriend didn’t tell her own parents about you?” This time, it’s your father who speaks up, eyeing Jake up and down. “Insignificant, I would say.” 

“Dad! Stop it!” 

The stress in your voice is evident and the spike of your heart monitor grabs Jake’s attention. 

You barely had enough strength to defend Jake against their venomous words. He looks at you with wide eyes, asking for your permission to speak to them. Had this been under different circumstances, Jake wouldn’t need to think twice about biting his tongue. He probably would have snapped back at them too if he didn’t notice the unnecessary stress this entire situation was putting on your shoulders. 

You shake your head at him before glancing toward your parents. “Please. Please leave.” You didn’t want them here right now. You didn’t need anyone but Jake right now. 

Offended, your mother scoffs. “You’re choosing a boy over your own parents?” 

This time, Jake decides to jump to your defense. “I believe she asked you to leave.” He looks over his shoulder, narrowing his gaze at your parents who stand unbothered across the room. 

“Why should we listen to you?” Your mother fights back. 

You start feeling lightheaded from the entire situation and you lay your head back, sliding out of Jake’s hold slightly. “Please,” you ask with the little strength you have. 

Noticing the warmth of your skin leaving him, Jake gently follows the movement of your head and cradles it while helping you lower your head to the pillow. His full attention is back on you as he scans you for any more distress. Jake was getting angrier by the minute. Couldn’t your parents see how much stress they were causing you? Why wouldn’t they just leave? He was close to yelling at them now but was saved by Donna entering the room. 

“Your daughter asked you to leave,” she tells them sternly. “Now I suggest you listen before I call security to have you both dragged out of here.” 

Your mother’s jaw drops and your father shakes his head with a scowl. Putting his hands up in surrender, your father is the first to leave. 

Your mother, however, lingers for just a moment more. “I can’t believe we left the Bahamas for this.” She always had to have the last word. 

Once the room is free of their presence you heavily exhale, looking at Donna with a grateful smile.

 She nods with a small smile of her own. “I’ll let you kids have a moment. Oh, and don’t worry, I’ll be right outside in case your parents try to come back.” 

“Thanks, Donna,” Jake sighs, his eyes never leaving yours. 

She winks at the both of you before softly closing the door on her way out. 

“Are you–” the both of you say at the same time. 

You avert your gaze with a nervous chuckle and Jake smiles, urging you to go first. 

You take a moment to observe the boy in front of you. This Jake was not the one you saw the last time. This Jake was tired and worn out. If the dullness of his green eyes and the dark circles that surrounded them weren’t a telltale sign of his exhaustion, it was the paleness of his skin and his sullen cheeks. 

“Are you okay?” You ask timidly. For the first time since you started dating, you find yourself feeling incredibly anxious about him. You were the reason why he looked like this, so empty and void of life. You didn’t even deserve for him to be here right now. 

Jake shakes his head with a sad smile playing on his lips. “You’re the one in a hospital gown and you’re asking if I’m okay?” 

He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead and you almost cry from the contact. 

“That’s my Ace, always worrying about me.” So much fondness shines in his eyes, causing you to finally break. 

The tears start flowing again, scaring Jake just a little bit. 

“Your Ace?” You sob. Somehow, you knew he had already forgiven you, but you still didn’t think you deserved it. “How can you even stand being here with me after everything I did? I hurt you, Jake. I hurt you and I am so, so sorry.” 

“Hey,” he whispers, softly stroking your hair. “It’s okay.” 

“No, no it’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay!” You hiccup and hiss at the sting it causes in your rib cage. 

“Ace, breathe for me sweetheart, come on.” He gently coaxes you with teary eyes of his own. He needs to hold it together for your sake. He needs to be strong for both of you. 

“It’s not okay,” you sniffle. 

“Shh…” Jake sees how much of a toll this entire thing has taken on you. 

Your eyelids are drooping heavily, but you will to keep them open. You’re afraid that once you close them, you’ll wake up to find that this was all just a dream. That Jake was never really here to begin with and that you were all alone. 

Jake pulls the empty chair that was beneath your bed closer to him and takes a seat. He encapsulates your hand between both of his and brings them to his lips. “It’s okay, Ace. Sleep,” he guides. 

“No.” You tiredly fight against the exhaustion that is threatening to take over. “No.” 

“Sleep,” Jake requests again. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.” 

“You promise?” You whimper. 

“I promise.” He gives your hand another kiss for safe measure, already seeing that your eyes have already begun to close. With his lips still pressed against your skin, he swears, “I’ll be here, Ace. I promise I’m never leaving you again. I love you. So fucking much.” 

Jake doesn’t miss the faint smile that ghosts your lips as sleep finally takes control of your body. 

Two Years Ago 

He finds you lying on the dewy lawn of the Delta Chi house splayed out like a starfish. “What in the…” he mutters to himself as he makes his way towards you. 

Jake stands over you, coming into your vision upside down causing you to giggle. 

“Ace?” 

“Hangman!” You exclaim with a dopey smile on your lips. 

He rolls his eyes at the name and crouches down above you. “What are you doing out here all alone?” 

You sigh dreamily. “Stargazing.” 

Jake catches the scent of cheap beer and jungle juice on your lips, letting him know you were currently far from sober. That makes him worry just a little bit. Last he heard you didn’t drink. You despised it actually. 

“How much have you had to drink?” He asks for safe measures. 

Another giggle erupts from your lips as you hold up all ten of your fingers and even your feet, wiggling your toes in your sandals. “This many.” 

That’s all Jake needs to confirm that you are long gone. “Where’s the rest of your friends?” He glances around looking for any sign of your roommates. All he sees are drunk couples making out on the front porch and the occasional flash of disco lights that escapes through the front windows and open door. 

“Dunno,” is all you say with a lazy shrug. 

Jake sighs, finding himself caught in a dilemma. He had a smoking hot blonde waiting for him to come back inside and bring her upstairs. So why did he feel so guilty about the thought of leaving you out here to fend for yourself? The two of you were hardly even friends, acquaintances at most. He only saw you after your group project because his friends mingled with your circle of friends after miraculously getting along upon meeting each other. 

Yet as he looked down at you staring awe struck up at the sky, he knew he couldn’t just leave you out here alone. Pushing himself off his knees, he groans. “Mind if I join you?” 

You shrug. “Mi casa es tu casa. Or no, wait. Tu casa es mi casa. Get it? Cause this is your house?” You laugh at your own joke. 

Your laughter is infectious, plaguing Jake with a few chuckles of his own. He lays on the damp ground beside you, resting his arms behind his head. “Not really my house, darling. It’s the fraternity’s.” 

“Same thing,” you wave him off. 

The two of you lay there in comfortable silence, watching the night sky. Jake had to admit, this was the most fun he has probably had all night even if you were doing nothing but looking at the sky. 

Out here with you, Jake felt like he could let his guard down. His cocky, playboy, frat boy persona disappeared. When around everyone else, he felt like he was expected to act a certain way but being out here with you, he knew you expected nothing of the sort. 

That was one of the first things that caught him completely off guard when he met you. All it took was one look at him and you were picking him apart, dissecting all of the fronts he put up around others. That’s why you bothered him so much. He barely knew anything about you and somehow, it was like you knew everything about him. You saw through his charms and arrogance, leaving no room for any funny business. 

Jake’s shoulders fall from his ears and he lets himself relax. 

Hearing you shift beside him, he wants to ask you what was on your mind. His curiosity never failed to make itself known when you were around. Again, he knew that you didn’t drink, so why were you absolutely wasted right now? 

The question is on the tip of his tongue, begging to be asked, but he exhales gratefully when you speak up first. 

“My parents are assholes who care about nothing but my grades and their image.” 

He’s not sure if he was meant to hear what you just said or if you realize it’s him that you’re talking to. So he stays quiet and patiently waits for you to continue. 

“It’s parents’ weekend next week and they don’t even bother to answer any of my calls or texts about it. And when I do hear back from them it’s a halfhearted apology that they can’t make because they’re off on the other side of the world.” A dry laugh escapes you. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I invited them. I knew they weren’t going to show up, whether they were actually here or not. I mean… is it too much to ask for them to just show up and be proud of me?” 

Jake sits up with a frown on his lips upon hearing your voice crack. He hesitates, unsure of what to say. He was never good at the whole comfort thing, especially when it came to crying girls. He used to try to comfort his sisters when they would cry, but he always just seemed to make things worse. He didn’t want to make you feel worse than you already did. “I’m sure they’re proud of you, Ace. They’d be idiots not to be.” 

You scoff, seemingly sobering up just enough to push yourself to sit up beside him. “I guess they’re idiots then.” 

Jake’s mouth runs faster than his brain can manage to keep up.“Hey, at least you have parents. I mean...look at Bradley.” 

That pulls a snort and a teary laugh from you. “Oh my god! Jesus, Seresin…” You’re laughing. You feel bad that you are, but the delivery of Jake’s words was so nonchalant that you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “You’re insane.” 

He joins in your laughter, glad that he was able to pull your attention from your inner turmoil even if it was just for a minute. “What? Am I wrong?” 

“You’re not, but come on. That was so uncalled for,” you shake your head in amusement. 

Jake sends you a toothy grin, captivated by the way your smile grows. 

“Jake!” The sound of another feminine voice catches both of your attention. The blonde he left inside earlier was running down the porch steps and in their direction. “There you are,” the girl exclaims, throwing her arms around him as she joins him on the ground. She presses an obnoxiously loud kiss to his neck with a smile. “I’ve been waiting for you, Cowboy.” 

As if suddenly realizing where you were and who you were with, you tuck your chin to your sternum and avoid his gaze. He grimaces in the other girl’s hold.“Ace–”

You go to stand, still wobbling from the alcohol but you’re coherent enough to know where you were going. “Looks like duty calls, Hangman.”

The girl gives you a cheeky smile as she moves her lips from his neck to the side of his face.  

He doesn’t miss the somber note of your tone. Jake watches you sway on your feet as you make your way back inside. He wants to reach out to you, beg you to stay but he holds himself back. With a sigh, he pulls the girl who’s clinging to his side up to her feet and flashes her a halfhearted grin. 

Even with his newfound company, Jake couldn’t get you out of his head. 

True to his word, Jake never left your side since you woke up. If the doctor’s needed to personally evaluate your condition, he would step outside but immediately come back in once the doctor gave him the okay. 

Your parents haven’t made another appearance since that first day and you were relieved. Your friends have been in and out of your hospital room once you were moved to the regular hospital floor from Urgent Care. 

Your body was still pretty weak due to the severity of your injuries but you felt stronger than you have in weeks. Being surrounded by your friends, your family, gave you some of that strength back. Most important of all, being with Jake had you feeling invincible. 

The doctors were thrilled with your rate of recovery and predicted you would be discharged in the next couple of days. 

Though Jake kept his promise to you, you still had a sliver of doubt about where the two of you stood relationship wise. You tried to bring it up a couple of times, but Jake would only respond with a shake of his before telling you not to worry about it now. 

You were just a bit afraid that this was his way of letting you down easily. That this was his way of telling you that he loved you, but he just couldn’t be in a relationship with you anymore. 

But then he’d do something as small as brushing your hair gently from your face as you ate or held your hand before you fell asleep at night and that little bit of worry would subside, if only for a moment. 

You’re laughing at Reuben’s lame attempt to sink Nat’s battleship when Jake gives you a quick kiss on the cheek muttering a soft, “I’ll be right back,” into your ear. 

You shoot him a soft smile and nod, before returning your attention to your friends’ antics. 

Meanwhile, Jake makes a quick run to the coffee machine down the hall. He barely makes it five steps there when he runs into someone right outside your door. 

He looks up and almost spews out an apology before realizing exactly who he ran into. 

The look of distaste that falls upon his face is anything but subtle. 

Your mother shares a look with your father, who sneers at the sight of him. 

Being born and raised by his southern gentleman of a father and kind hearted mother, he knew he still had to show some respect towards your parents despite his dislike for them. 

He gives them a nod as a form of greeting and silently prays that they let him slip past them. 

“You should leave now before it gets worse,” your mother speaks up. 

Jake knew he should probably ignore it. Leave your mother without the satisfaction of getting under his skin. But he couldn’t. He stops in his tracks. Glaring at them from over his shoulder, he hissed, “Excuse me?” 

Your mother only shrugs, pulling her handbag tighter over her shoulder. “She’s not worth your time or the trouble. Trust us. As her parents, we would know. How does it make you feel? Knowing you must mean so little to her that she didn’t even mention your existence to her parents.”

Jake was finally tired of biting his tongue. No one, not even your own parents, talked about you like that. Not if he could help it. “With all due respect, I know she didn’t tell you about me and frankly, I don’t blame her considering the way you treat your daughter. Besides, how would either of you know anything? You’re never here so you’d never know just how worth it your daughter is. I would walk through hell for her. Something I know neither of you would ever do.

So no, you don’t know. You don't know just how thoughtful and sweet and caring she is. You don’t know just how incredibly smart she is. Most of all, you would never understand that she is worth everything.” 

Jake is breathless at the end of his speech. His chest heaves as he catches his breath and harshly swallows from his passionate spiel. You were everything and the idea that anyone would think otherwise astonished him. 

Your mother barely bats an eye. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t mind completely taking her off our hands then. Considering she moved so far away from us for college, you can tell my daughter to not even bother coming back home to visit us because apparently, we’re never here for her anyway.” She storms past Jake in suppressed fury, muttering to herself, “The Bahamas!” 

Your father, on the other hand, pauses for a moment. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something and glances through the doorway before looking back at Jake and clearing his throat. “Just, um, just tell her the hospital bill will be taken care of once it comes in the mail.” He gives one last look at your hospital room before scurrying in the same direction your mother had gone. 

A sigh of relief escapes Jake’s lips from the encounter, diminishing his prior craving for caffeine. 

He makes his way back into the room to see three pairs of eyes settled on him. Jake’s a bit unnerved at all the attention he’s receiving and he’s slightly confused by the way Nat, Reuben, and you were all staring at him. 

He nervously chuckles, running a hand down the back of his neck. 

Reuben suddenly stands up, grabbing his battleship board. “I think we should continue this outside, right Nat?” 

She nods with a smile grabbing her board as well. “Yeah, let’s. We’ll give you two a minute.” Natasha squeezes your hand as she ushers out of the room. 

Jake shifts back and forth on his feet, feeling a heat of embarrassment flow through him. “You heard all of that, didn’t you?” 

A look he can’t fully decipher on your face. “Yeah, I did.” 

“I am so sorry if I crossed a line I just—“

“I love you.” You cut him off teary eyed. 

“What?” He breathes, the wideness of his growing smile no longer contained. 

You give him a smile of your own that matches the look of love and pure happiness that lights up his features. “I said I love you. I heard you, that first night you stayed over but I was too afraid to say it back. Just in case you didn’t mean it the way I did anymore. But then you…” 

Jake cups your face in his hands, nodding to encourage you to take your time. 

“But then I heard what you said to my parents and no one has ever stood up for me that way.” 

His thumbs begin to trace gentle patterns onto the apples of your cheeks. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I love you and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise.” A tear finally escapes from the corner of your eye that gets gently pressed away by Jake’s lips. 

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt my love.” 

You shake your head, desperately hoping he understands that none of that matters now. “You’re here now. That’s what matters. I love you, Jake Seresin.” 

Finally, after days of waiting, he kisses you softly on the lips. It’s not rough or hungry, despite how long he’s been waiting for this moment. It’s soft, delicate, and full of love. It’s passionate and heartwarming. It’s the kind that you could feel all the way to the tips of your toes. Just like the first time. 

“I love you, Ace. You’ll never have to doubt that again.” 

Your relationship, just like your body, wasn’t one hundred percent healed. There were still many things the two of you had to talk about. 

However, knowing that Jake loved you didn’t make the unspoken parts so scary. Having him, loving him, is enough. 

a/n: a super duper, huge thank you to @blue-aconite for beta reading and being just the best support system through this entire journey <3 she even swayed my original plans for this so you should thank her for jake and ace getting back together sooner that anticipated lol as usual, reblogs, feedback, and comments are all greatly appreciated and the inbox is always open

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[vodika-vibes]

can I request acacia and purple lilac with fixer? maybe some fluff with a jedi reader who thinks someone so brisk and no-nonsense as fixer could never want a naive jedi who's so unsure of herself, but she doesn't realize the rest of delta squad can see how obvious her "secret" affection is, and are all rooting for her? hope that's not to o much detail. :^) have fun!!!

On Your Order

Summary: You've been in love with Fixer for a while, but think he doesn't feel the same.

Pairing: Clone Commando Fixer x F!JediReader

Prompt: Acacia - Secret love, Purple Lilac - First Love

Word Count: 1565

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, full disclosure, I woke up with awful vertigo this morning, so I'm surprised I was able to write anything at all. Sadly, I no longer have vertigo medicine. Anyway, I hope this is close to what you wanted!

You’ve never been in love before.

At least, if you have, it’s never felt like this before.

It’s never felt so real.

You rest your chin on your folded arms as you watch the men from Delta walk around the ship, preparing for the upcoming mission. Your gaze jumps from Scorch, who’s checking his weapons, and then over to Sev, who’s polishing his armor, and then finally your gaze lands on Fixer, who is reading over the mission brief again.

You love Fixer.

You do.

He’s so serious and stern and no-nonsense. And he follows all of the rules to the letter.

And you love him anyway.

It’s embarrassing.

It’s pathetic.

Even if Fixer didn’t follow all of the rules all of the time, he still wouldn’t be interested in you. You know this. You’re too jedi. Too naive. Too self-conscious.

A hand lands between your shoulder blades, and Boss leans over you, “You’re staring.”

“I’m thinking.” You reply.

“Hm, about Fixer?” Boss asks as he slides into the seat next to you.

You scowl at him, “Just in general,” You finally say as you turn to look at him, “We’ll be landing soon, I’m guessing.”

“Soonish.” He gazes at you thoughtfully, “You know we’re all on your side, right?”

“I’m sorry?”

“We,” He motions to himself, Scorch, and Sev, “Think that you’d be good for Fixer. So we’re rooting for you.”

You blink at him, twice, and then turn to bury your face in your arms, “Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah, just a bit.”

“Ugh…how humiliating.”

“It’s cute.”

“Please stop talking.” You say quietly, and then you lift your head when the ship makes a noise, announcing your arrival on the planet, “Ah. Time for work.”

“So it would seem.”

You get to your feet and walk over to the side door, pressing the button to slide the door open. And then you crouch near the exit, “That’s a lot of droids,”

“There’s no way we can land here.” Fixer says, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, to offer you support.

“Yeah, but this is the only way in,” Scorch points out, “It’s not like there’s a back entrance.”

“We can make one.” Sev says, “Enough explosives-”

“Bad idea,” Boss interrupts, he turns his gaze towards you, “Suggestions.”

“Land the ship further back, you’ll just have to walk a little more.” You finally say as you stand and pull your saber into your hands.

“What about you?” Scorch asks with a small frown.

“I’m going out there.” You reply as you toss your outer robe over a chair, “I’ll clear some space for you all.”

“It’s too dangerous.” Fixer counters.

“More dangerous than leaving our vulnerable drop ship open to enemy fire?” You ask with a pointed look at Fixer, “I realize that you think I’m incompetent,” And wow, it hurts to finally say that outloud, “But I was assigned as your Jedi for a reason.”

Fixer blinks, “Wha-? I don’t think you’re incompetent-”

“Now is not the time,” Boss barks, “General, go. Be careful. We’ll catch up when we can.”

You nod at him, and flash a small smile, “Happy hunting, boys.” And then you jump out of the ship. You use the force so slow your descent and you light your sabers before you hit the ground.

You hear the ship fly off, and you settle yourself in the force.

It’s just you now. You and the force, and what seems like half a million droids.

Pity.

If they wanted to win they would have sent more droids.

Fixer grips his blaster tightly, anxiety and worry making him more tense than usual.

He can’t get her words out of his mind. “I realize you think I’m incompetent.” She said before jumping out of the ship to fight an army on her own.

She can’t possibly think that he thinks that, right?

And if she does, what does that say about how he’s been treating her?

He’s been nothing but respectful towards her. And he does respect her. He respects the hell out of her. And more.

Fixer isn’t the type of man to lie to himself, and he’s not going to start now. 

He knows that his eyes drift to her during downtime. How he watches her hair sway when she walks. How he stands closer to her just so that he might be able to catch a hint of the citrusy scented shampoo she uses. How he sometimes hates Scorch for being able to make her laugh.

He’s enamored. He knows it. And he knows that his brothers know it.

And he also knows that she’s so far outside his reach that, even standing next to him, she might as well be in another system.

But she’s not standing next to him.

She’s kilometers away. Fighting a battle all on her own. With no support but what she can give herself with her blades.

And he hates it.

“You need to relax, vod.” Boss says as he leads his brothers through the undergrowth, “She’s going to be fine. She wouldn’t have offered if she wasn’t able to hold her own.”

Fixer bristles, “I don’t think she’s not able to hold her own.” He snaps, “I think she shouldn’t have to.”

“Oh my god,” Scorch finally blurts, “Vod. Fixer. The General-” He swears as Sev smacks him hard, “What the kriff!”

“That’s not for you to tell.” Sev says severely.

“Someone needs to say something!” Scorch hisses.

“Yeah. But not you.” Sev counters.

“Quiet.” Boss’ order cuts through the bickering like a knife, “Gunfire.”

The men lift their blasters and slowly continue forward, being careful to be as quiet as they can. They push through the brush, and into a clearing, where they see their General darting this way and that, her crystal blue lightsabers a blur with how quickly she’s moving.

The men of Delta immediately enter the fray, falling into the familiar strategy of using their General as bait to draw out the droids.

And as the last droid falls to a combination of Sev’s sniper and the General’s blade, she straightens and deactivates her blades. She turns to greet them with a small smile, there’s oil on her robes and several burns on her face, “Nice of you to join me.”

“What happened?” Fixer asks as he steps closer and fishes some bacta out of one of his pouches.

“Some of these droids are rigged to explode if someone uses a lightsaber against them,” She winces as he applies bacta to one of the burns, “They look the same as the other droids though.”

“So we should stick to using blasters for now,” Boss says thoughtfully, “Do you need a break?”

“I’m good to continue.”

“Good enough for me. What did you see?”

“It looks like there are two facilities.” The General replies with a frown, “Which is one more facility than we were expecting. One seems to be producing droids, while the other looks to be an information hub. We should hit both of them.”

“Agreed.” Boss says with a single nod. He falls silent for a moment, “Fixer, you and the General will hit up the information hub. We will deal with the droids.”

“You sure?” The General asks.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Boss replies dryly, “Sev, Scorch. We’re heading in.”

And then Fixer is alone with the General.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asks.

“Just some burns,” She holds up a hand to show off the blisters, “But it’s fine.”

Fixer sighs and tugs his helmet off, “We have time to treat those, General.” He says as he takes her hand and carefully applies bacta to the burns.

“...sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m happy to help.” Fixer kind of hates that he’s wearing his gloves now, though, because he wants nothing more than to touch her. He’s quiet for a moment, “You know, I don’t think you’re incompetent, General.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I respect you and everything you do for us…and I just…” He trails off, “I wish you would be more careful.”

“If I have to get a scar to keep you and your brothers from getting hurt-”

“No.” Fixer interrupts, “I don’t want you getting hurt at all. I hate seeing you get hurt.”

“Oh.”

“I just…I…” He trails off, “Why did you have to be a jedi? All of the things I want to say to you aren’t allowed-”

She blinks at him, and Fixer averts his gaze as he grabs his helmet, “Fixer,” She stops him from putting his helmet on, “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m in love with you, but you’re a Jedi and aren’t allowed to be in relationships.” Fixer says, “So…so all I can do is admire you and love you from afar.”

She’s quiet for a moment, “I think there’s been something of a cultural misunderstanding.” She finally says, “I’m not forbidden from loving or having relationships. Attachments are forbidden, but attachments aren’t love, Fixer.”

“...can you be more specific?”

“Yes, but not now.” She stands on her toes and kisses his cheek, and Fixer feels his heart doing backflips in his chest, “For now, just know that I love you too. And that I would like to see where this takes us.”

“Oh.” He sighs.

“And now we have a job to do.”

“I…yes General. On your order.”

[toska-writes]

“Random Clone Headcannons p.1”

These I made instead of working on my WIP for some reason but I have no regrets!

My ideas here are all over the place but please enjoy!

If you see any you like and such I’m planning to turn a few of these into full length writings so let me know!

Clones x reader pairing! (Platonic!)

• You cant tell me that if You had longer hair that so many Vodes would keep hair ties on their wrists for you

• Wolffe is the reason you have a deadly eye roll and amazing smart comments

• I feel like if you gained his. Trust you and Crosshair would be deadly on the battlefield- like he’d do the thing where he’d steady his riffle on your shoulder

• Jesse and Hardcase would beg you to show them some moves with your lightsaber, and honestly they aren’t terrible

• Braiding Tup and/or Hunters hair for fun. That’s it just think about it.

• You absolutely begged Rex if you could help to bleach his hair- finally giving in and needing a touch up he agrees to let you help. You don’t know how it’s happened but bleach is literally everywhere

• You and a few others were so excited to help the Wolfpack paint the “Plo’s Bro’s” and were so proud to stand next to Wolffe as you showed Master Plo for the first time

• Lake days with the 501st- just imagine. This I think will be my next WIP

• To say that you weren’t the best wingman for your brothers was an understatement you were amazing- Hardcase wouldn’t be anywhere without you. Playing match maker is so fun for the Clones and seeing them embarrassed is even better

• Rex can sleep anywhere. You’ve found him in so many different places just slumped. It’s become a tradition now that if you see him you’ll curl up by his side and get some rest and vice-versa (cause if Rex falls asleep you know you should be too)

• In your defense how could you not take those loth kittens back to Coruscant with you? Fox was a wonderful babysitter as you figured out where they could go

• You introduced wrecker to markers and now you take turns coloring small doodles on each others arms. Wreckers gotten pretty good over the last few times, and it’s alway fun to see the huge clone in training with a sleeve of colorful doodles

• You, Boil, and Sinker have always talked about taking you to get your first tattoo and you couldn’t agree more- Wolffe has to be the mom and shut it down pretty fast but one day soon it will happen

• Tech will teach you all these strategies to different games knowing at when you keep practicing he’ll have some good competition

• He has regretted this decision ever since you beat him once and his brothers and yourself hang it over his head all the time

• Delta Squad loves having joint mission with you and your battalion- Scorch can count on something interesting going down and Boss gets more gray hairs by the second in all the situations he has to get his squad out of

• So so so many nicknames it’s insane. They vary from who it is with Cody and Wolffes battalion keeps it sweet and simple with kid, vod’ika and Cyare where as groups like the 501st, Delta Squad and the Corries have unusual and creative names like Scrappy, shorty, and others

• Cold nights and everyone’s having a huge sleepover in the barracks- sneaking in and never sleeping more soundly then you have before

Hmm guess I could go back to my WIP but if you want a Part. 2 I’d be happy to make one!

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