#dystopicjumpsuit answers

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Ok. So. If someone wanted to read your works…

Which do you think is your best piece and why? You can split the answer into short and long fics if you want. 😜

Which do you think is your most delicious, sexy, satisfying piece of smut?

Which do you think has the most intimate/immersive POV of a character, like really takes you in their heart and mind and makes you feel what they feel? Takes you on the ride with them?

And which one do you think everyone should read? I know, choosing one is torture. 😉😘

This is a fantastic ask! Thank you, @freesia-writes! I had to think about it for a while, but I think I'm ready to stop waffling and commit to some answers.

Which do you think is your best piece and why? You can split the answer into short and long fics if you want. 😜

You know, I would say Boil and Trouble,* but it's unfinished, so there are still two more chapters for me to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. So instead, I'm going to say "The Sixth Language," for one very specific reason: it's the one fic I've written that is MY comfort fic. I have lots of comfort fics from other writers, but this is the only one of my own that I reread again and again, and it always makes me feel safe and happy.

Which do you think is your most delicious, sexy, satisfying piece of smut?

This one was easy! "Just a Little Bit More," because it's realistic and affirming but still super hot, IMO. It was also the fastest smut I've ever written. I was inspired.

Which do you think has the most intimate/immersive POV of a character, like really takes you in their heart and mind and makes you feel what they feel? Takes you on the ride with them?

Stars Beyond Number. 100%. Cerra feels like a real person to me, not a character. Actually, so do Fireball and Nemec, which is one of the reasons their canon deaths hit me so hard. My stupid brain can't tell the difference between a real person I actually know and a character I wrote about.

And which one do you think everyone should read? I know, choosing one is torture. 😉😘

Ahahahahahaha! "Everybody Hates Neyo" and "Everybody Hates Neyo Round 2: Matchmaking Boogaloo." This was one of the most fun fics I ever wrote, and if I were to pick a single fic to pitch to a new reader to give them an example of the things I like best about my writing (banter and smut), this would be the one. Neyo and the Badmiral are so unhinged and hilarious to me, and honestly I'm still dying over the concept of them being perfect for each other because they are menaces to society who need to be removed from the dating pool for the good of all.

Thank you so much for this! I had so much fun thinking of answers! 😘😘😘😘

*Boil and Trouble is such a pain in the ass to link. As soon as it's finished, I'm going to repost chapter 1 to my own account and create a chapter masterlist so it's easier for people to find.

[littlemissmanga]

Unwind With Me

Pairing: Crosshair x (gn)Reader

W/C: 538

Summary: You're at your limit with your job. But luckily, Crosshair is an unlikely source of comfort.

Warnings: Some talk of work stress, but the focus is on the very indulgent comfort.

A/N: HELLO TUMBLR!!

It has been a long time since I posted, but I am finally writing again. Thank you for your patience. And I'll ask for a little more. I'm writing again, but I am taking things slow to avoid overextending myself.

So I figure I'd start with a warm, comforting Crosshair fic. This was what I fixated on to get over my own work stress this week. So I hope you find it helpful, too!

It's been a long day.

No, it's been a long year.

Just a million different moments spread across each day that began to stockpile in the pit of your stomach. Stress building like bile until the thought of another rotation made you nauseous.

"Just quit."

The voice may have been rough, the tone dismissive. But you knew Crosshair only said it out of concern.

You could see it in the way he hovered. Hear it in the gruff clearing of his throat as he refilled your water again and again.

He didn't like problems he couldn't solve. And your toxic job was top of that list.

"You know why I can't, Cross," you sigh as you settle further into the couch. Your apartment was small, but you do what you can to make it cozy. Usually. Lately you've slacked when tidying up. Another worry for the pile.

"Excuses."

He tosses the towel used to dry the dishes from dinner before joining you. Without asking, he pulls you from your nest into his lap as he moves to take your seat.

The moment his arms lock around you, your body melts. Not fully. Not enough to fix anything. But just enough to take the edge of.

Somehow, that is sweeter than anything else you could imagine right now.

"No, it's reality. I pull in a decent paycheck and I'll never be fired. Those are invaluable benefits. Besides, every job has office politics and dumbasses in charge."

He huffs and tucks your head under his chin, curling around you. You're so glad he finally got over himself and let you get close. Crosshair was so touch starved his craving for physical reassurance was higher than yours.

Thank goodness, too. It was selfish, but knowing he needed you even when you felt like such a failure gives you strength.

"You're hurting yourself," he rasps.

"I can take it." Your voice doesn't waiver, but a current of uncertainty shocks you. You can ... but it leaves you so tired. You feel like a shell of yourself most days.

"You're strong. But you don't gotta prove it."

You feel his lips brush against your hair. He liked burying his face into you. It made you smile every time. You return the favor, shifting in his arms to press into his chest.

"Nothing to do about it now. Just ..." You trail off and press a kiss to his collarbone. "Can we just say like this until I feel better?"

He doesn't answer you. Crosshair only reaches over to grab the remote for the holoprojector.

He puts on your latest favorite drama. Something to get swept away watching. Something perfectly distracting to occupy your mind as the soft warmth of Crosshair's body against your own relaxed your muscles.

Eventually, you feel yourself begin to drift off. You resist, unwilling to sacrifice any time with Cross before he has to leave again. But you can't fight the overwhelm of comfort he brings you. And he wouldn't want you to.

You're lucky enough to feel his cool lips press against your forehead before sleep claims you.

No matter what you have to face tomorrow, you know his warmth will be there to welcome you home after.

Taglist: @dreamie411 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @wolffegirlsunite

@secondaryrealm @idontgetanysleep @multi-fan-dom-madness @dystopicjumpsuit @sinfulsalutations

@sunshinesdaydream @wizardofrozz @anxiouspineapple99 @dhawerdaverd @mythical_illustrator

Check out my masterlist here.

[eobe]

Forest's hair is a thing like it seems 😁 So this unplanned piece is because my gorgeous chaos vod @lonewolflupe is keeping making me speechless with wholesome feedback 🙈🥰 and because drawing is my love language you get this one 💞🫶 ✨

Voice' love language is singing and as he can't sing all the time and low key loves playing with Forest's hair, he tries to "help" him with braiding.

To answer your question @eclec-tech – the ARF trooper helmets have some kind of extra air conditioner (?) at the back top, that leaves a bit extra space where a folded braid might fit in 😎

I‘ve got problems focussing today 😶‍🌫️ I wanted to tinker at the next GAR Goth Night thing, but my brain isn’t braining. I kind of have worked on this post all the day, sheer luck to have so much time. But I wanted to make some eyes shine and I was as determined as Voice 🤩✨🫶

Hope you enjoy! 🥰

Closeups on clone faces:

„Miffion almoft accomplifft!“ 🤬😂

„Eheheh, vod‘ika stop eating my hair“ 😁

As Forest is a Gen 1 clone, he shares the canine teeth (headcanon) with the Commanders 😽 The reason why he isn’t greying like them yet: No caf 🦊 and no growling 🐺 Only foresting (not giving a shit, connecting with the force and his surroundings, enters a room and everybody calms) 🌲

Taglist: @eclec-tech @lonewolflupe @bixlasagna @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @covert1ntrovert @vrycurious @dystopicjumpsuit @chaicilatte @ladylucksrogue @spaceyjessa @freesia-writes

OC tag for my bb @crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf 🫶🌹

And my precious @foxwithadarkside for Owl Squad shenanigans ♥️

Happy and honored that you want to know more about Owl Squad, so have a bit new lore 🫶@headphones-ct-09978

[skellymom]

"AMBER EYES"

Bad Batch TECH Fan Ficlet x READER

A story of HOPE for Tech Fan's: Resident of Pabu unlocks a secret even THEY weren't aware they had access to!

(Credit: Pinterest Bad Batch, Saphira Laufens, Dividers @saradika)

Word Count: 475

Rated: SAFE for EVERYONE! ENJOY!!!

“Can you hold this for a minute?” 

Omega handed me her brother’s goggles while she wiped down the shelf they would be resting upon in the Archium. 

Clean up and repairs to the island and the artifacts museum were underway after the Empire had left the planet of Pabu...and when the clones returned. 

They helped the residents of the island put their lives back together.

We helped them find a better life here. 

Crosshair was the one to locate Tech’s goggles under some heavy rubble Wrecker lifted out of the way.  His eyes catching a glint of light reflected off the remaining amber glass of its lenses. 

I held the goggles, staring into what was left of that glass. 

Unfortunately, I came to the island after he perished on a distant planet.  Never got the chance to meet him. 

Pity that.   

I became close to his remaining brothers and sister.   

It started with Hunter.  According to him, he has enhanced senses.  I clocked him right away... 

Just a feeling.   

But that’s been most of my life.  Small snatches of intuition... 

Lucky guesses...they happen occasionally.  Fortuitous events that helped me navigate my life in this ever-changing galaxy. 

Wrecker’s strength, Crosshair’s eyesight, Omega’s empathy and strategy... 

And Tech’s superior intellect. 

We all have gifts. 

I lift the goggles up to stare through them as Tech would have done.  That amber glass captivating me... 

Hunters head snaps up quickly.  I can FEEL his stare. 

My hands suddenly go numb...like when cold wind rushes over them. 

The Archium’s walls dissolve into blue, cloudy skies and it handicaps my equilibrium... 

I trip and fall...hear Wrecker screaming... 

Down. 

Down. 

Down. 

A shattering impact.  I suddenly cannot see... 

Don’t know how long I was...GONE...but the feelings of being in my own body returns.  I’m cradled in the warm arms of Wrecker.  His face along with Hunter, Crosshair, and Omega’s hover over me as I lay on the floor. 

“What happened?” Crosshair’s expression is one of concern. 

I lift up the goggles, clutched TIGHTLY in my hand and gaze at the splintered amber lenses. 

“Tech.” is all I can muster. 

“Whatta’bout Tech?” Wrecker asks with trepidation. 

Staring into those lenses, I inhale and exhale.  I’m breathing...he’s breathing...WE are breathing simultaneously. 

“I...felt...FEEL HIM...he’s...ALIVE.”   

All eyes widen, then shift to their Sergeant. 

Hunter’s eyes discern SOMETHING...he doesn’t understand what.  But he believes what I’m saying.  Can read it in his expression. 

He then taps the comm on is wrist. “Havoc 5, do you copy?” 

Silence, then a grumpy voice answers back “I copy Havoc 1.” 

“Rendevous at our coordinates.  Recon mission for Havoc 2“ 

Stunned silence, then an excited reply “Enroute IMMEDIATELY Havoc 1!  Havoc 5 OUT!!!” 

“You’ll help us find..?” Hunter requests as he reaches for my hand. 

I grip it firmly with conviction. “Yes...look forward to FINALLY meeting him.” 

To read Chapter 2

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/767923139764207616/amber-eyes-chapter-2?source=share

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[starqueensthings]

The Bad Batch Moments that Live Rent Free in my Head: A Series

Part Twenty Five:

Wrecker: *gets upset about the use of hand signals*

Also Wrecker: *answers with a hand signal*

prev parts linked here

ragu: @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @freesia-writes @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @drafthorsemath @jediknightjana @moonlightwarriorqueen @starstofillmydream @mooncommlink @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @clonethirstingisreal @rabbitstu99 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mythical-illustrator

[freesia-writes]

Behind the Scenes of a Writer's Mind

I noticed something tonight that I thought might be helpful to share. You [hopefully] often hear fanfic writers urging interaction and support. It may seem selfish or prideful at first glance, but there's a lot more to it. Have a seat. 😉

The best metaphor I've heard is someone who loves cooking for others. Yes, they do it because they like it, but there's a deep gratification in sharing that work and talent with others and getting to hear how much it was loved and enjoyed. Same with writing.

I asked my favorite author @dystopicjumpsuit about her works -- which had the most emotional impact, which was the tastiest smut, which is her best piece, etc -- and was delighted to hear her answers because there were elements that I hadn't known or noticed, and it made me so excited to read them again (and a few for the first time, haha). It gave a new appreciation, a neat back story, and a richer experience to the fics. (READ THE ASK/ANSWER HERE)

She turned the ask back on me, and while I hadn't expected that, I was surprised at the process as I tried to answer. I had taken a good half a year off from writing after finishing the Hunter longfic. I had poured my heart and soul into it, and when it was done posting, it was kinda... empty. Life also was fairly crazy, so this side of me kinda went away for a while. I still wanted to write. I missed being here. But there was just no inspiration or motivation, and you can't force that.

But something neat happened when DJ gave me the chance to consider my own work. I reread some oldies. I smiled at things I'd forgotten about. The questions forced me to look at the good parts, my favorite parts, the best parts that I'm most proud of.

As a writer, it's easy to forget that. You get used to writing, you get used to your style and approach and voice, and sometimes it just gets to a point of "why bother"? ESPECIALLY if there's no feedback from readers. But it was awesome to be reminded of how my writing brings me joy, and that it's a particular area of gifting but also something that's honed and developed and refined over the years.

Considering the beautiful elements of what I've been able to create breathed fresh life into me. It brought confidence where there had been indifference. It reminded me of the fun of writing and the unpredictable nature of how it all goes down. It rekindled some of that joy of bringing delight to others with my time and effort. It rejuvenated the creative part of me that loves the process as well as the product.

So WRITERS -- if you're in a pit, perhaps read some of your own stuff. Enjoy it. Read works by other authors you love and ask them about it -- it'll likely remind you of some experiences of your own. But also, if the motivation isn't there, don't sweat it. Enjoy what you can and, if the fickle mistress of inspiration returns, bang that thang til fics fall out. (I'll see myself out, thank you.)

And READERS -- you enjoy what we create, yeah? Do you know that you'd likely enjoy it wayyy more if you had a lil behind-the-scenes knowledge? It truly enriches the experience all around, AND it's so encouraging to authors to be able to share not only the finished product but some of the joy of the process. So don't be afraid -- drop some asks, leave questions in reblogs, engage!!

If you've read this far (without skipping, you weasels), please consider this a free ticket for a fic request. ;) Drop one in my inbox and we shall see if the gods smile upon my mushy brain and clumsy fingers. But also, thank you for reading, and I hope that both writers and readers are encouraged to enjoy this space more fully!

FREESIA OUT 😘

[coffeeandbatboys]

Cyare Darasuum

Pairing: Ghost!Wolffe x fem!reader

Warnings: AU where Wolffe dies during order 66. Grief, blood, fatal injury, reader death, reunions, afterlife.

A/N I can’t seem to write Wolffe without some angst. Divider by @saradika-graphics and rb banners by @dystopicjumpsuit

It definitely took some getting used to when Wolffe appeared as a ghost. Neither of you understood, since Jedi were supposed to be the only beings capable of that; and even they had to train themselves.

Nobody else can see him, which makes you wonder if you might actually be going crazy. He keeps watch over you, his beloved, at all times of the day. You'd rather have him as a ghost instead of not at all, but you find yourself constantly aching for the comfort of his arms. It’s been too long since he held you, and you’re afraid of forgetting the feeling.

His dry, snarky personality hasn’t changed. The two of you still fall into the same banter you always have. That, you’re thankful for.

When you're finally wounded badly in action, rebelling against the Empire that took your husband from you, it's not sadness that fills your heart, but joy. Joy that you'll be with him for eternity.

You hiss in pain as blood seeps into the dirt beneath you. Wolffe's hazy apparition hovers worriedly as tears sting your eyes.

“Ironic,” you laugh bitterly. “Till death do us part, except death is bringing us together.”

Wolffe manages a small grimacing smile, but he knows he won't ever be able to erase the image of your blood pooling on the ground.

“Close your eyes, ner kar'ta. I love you so much.”

You do as he says, focusing on the hope that you'll be with him as darkness creeps from the edges of your consciousness like burning flimsi.

When you open your eyes again, you’re in a lush, vibrant meadow.

A hand—a warm, firm, calloused hand—grasps yours, and you look up to see Wolffe’s mismatched gaze. Not the transparent silver mirage that’s followed you for a year, But the man you fell in love with. The man you married.

“Welcome to forever, Mesh’la.”

A keening cry leaves your throat and you fall into his waiting arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he softly shushes you. You feel no pain. You feel no grief. You only feel overwhelming happiness and love as you cry in your husband's embrace.

“Is this real?” You ask, hand tracing his face; his cheekbones, down to his chin, across the scar over his eye, drinking in the sight of him.

Wolffe presses his forehead to yours, as if to answer.

“Yeah, it’s real. We’ll never have to be so far apart again.”

As his nose bumps against yours, a promise echoes in your mind.

Ner Cyare Darasuum.

My Eternal Beloved.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Sentences For WIPs Game

I was tagged by @ulchabhangorm (thanks lovely! 🩷) to participate in this little game where the idea is to make a 24-hour poll including every WIP you want to work on, and have people vote for one of those WIPs. Then once voting has concluded, you write one sentence for every vote of the WIP that received the most votes.

Thing is: I have so many WIPs that I hope to write within the year (if I can!!) that I'm going to offer as many as the poll will allow, AND, I'll "cheat" a tiny bit and write a sentence for ALL of the WIPs that get a vote. ;)

No Pressure Tags: @eclec-tech @dystopicjumpsuit @clonethirstingisreal @returnofthepineapple @dragonrider9905 + @lonewolflupe @the-bad-batch-baroness @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @eternal-transcience

I'll put what's cooking under the cut so anyone who's interested can get a taste of what's to come, only if you're so inclined~ Those marked as request fics will have the details purposely sparse or vague to keep a bit of the surprise alive.

Lost on Life Day: *Request fic. Combination of bad weather and a "small" natural disaster leads to a bit of Huddling Together For Survival between a certain cobalt blue captain and the trusted friend he's harboring feelings for. Because he's put her in danger, Rex thinks it might be best to let a certain loth-cat out of the bag... (Oh, and he should probably mention that it happens to be Life Day, too.)

Cyber Crush: *Request fic. While doing a bit of the ol' “slightly questionable research”, Wrecker and the reader “meet” each other over the galaxy-wide-web, where Wrecker answers a few… concerning questions. Worried he’s accidentally helped a Seppie, he asks Tech to run a thorough background check and finds out that the reader isn’t a Seppie at all. She’s just a writer!

Stuck in the Stacks: *Request fic. Modern AU, where the reader and Wolffe live in the same, small mountain town that is no stranger to the odd bout of bad weather. They've been passively flirting for so long, but never seem to make much progress... When a truly bad storm rolls in the first time Wolffe comes to pay her a visit at her job—hoping to check out a few books for a "little project" he's working on [C'mon, it's Carol's request fic, of course I'll give this reader a fitting job!]—it forces them to stay after-hours. Alone. ;)

No Foxes In This Hole: Longform story I started 10/10 of last year, series link here. Reader's new to Coruscant after seeking a big life change, and boy is she gonna find one. The crimson commander will too, for that matter!

Seaglass in the Surf: Hiding out on a remote, backwater planet, Din Djarin makes the acquaintance of a woman who frequently makes trips to the shoreline just to scour through the sand for something. He offers to help, thinking she's looking for something she lost. Turns out she's looking for things that others have lost, for a rather different reason than the one Din initially suspects.

Your Body Remembers: Experimental fic without a single line of dialogue where you as a local living in hardship on an Imperial-controlled planet find a little more than just hope in the man who, at first, will tell you nothing more than he's a Mandalorian is the only person who has answered your desperate plea for help.

Yellow Blankets, Yellow Blades: Reader makes their favorite Jedi fugitive something rather special to keep in the room he's always been offered whenever he needs a place to lay low from the Empire. While the item brings up many memories that are perhaps a little too bittersweet, Cal, who hasn't seen a lot of genuine kindness like yours since the start of the Purge, can't believe how lucky he is that you went through all that trouble, just for him.

Like Family: Star Wars AU. Feral asked you a very important question recently, and he's been riding on Cloud 9 ever since! Trouble is... he's having difficulties finding the right time to tell his brothers the happy news. The way you and him go about letting the loth-cat out of the bag together isn't exactly what you had planned, but hey; you're still warmly welcomed once they know you're officially going to be part of the family!

Hunting the Nexu: An absolute mess in the outline stages right now, HtN is a TBB AU that covers events from both season 2 and 3 between Crosshair and a mysterious hired gun that agreed to help his brothers and sister with rescuing him from Mount Tantiss and the Empire.

Glory In Gold: Hired to teach Cody Mando'a under false pretenses for an Imperial mission, it isn't long before it's revealed to you the real reason you're here once, sometimes twice a week, on the Empire's dime, is personal. But it's not long after that that the reason changes again. To something more... intimate.

Loving A Lazarus Species: You've been mourning Tech's death for close to a year. Maybe more. The denial that this death is real runs deep; chasing down the ghosts of ghosts when it comes to rumors your love still lives. Lucky for you, the brown-eyed, bespectacled man proves you have no need for the morally murky research you've turned to in your desperation: proving he's harder to kill than initially believed... [We're doing a Tech Lives AU!!]

Dressed to the Ninety-Nines: You and the bandana-wearing sergeant have to feign being on a date for a "special assignment". Hunter effectively proves that he sure cleans up well and behaves like a perfect gentleman, the whole nine. But is there really a "special assignment", or is this all part of some elaborate bet?

[sev-on-kamino]

✨Cadet Daze: The CCs Are Too Observant✨

Summary: Your ongoing war with Alpha-17 has not gone unnoticed by the cadets in your care, and they have questions.

Players: Medic!Reader, cadet!Wolffe, cadet!Fox, mentions of Alpha-17 and cadet!Rex

Rating: G (but this page is still 18+ only, so MINORS DNI)

Warnings: Swears, cute & fluffy, totally safe for Costco though 😌

A/N: This is in the same timeline as this post (it’s incredibly NSFW!), and while I likely won’t do a concentrated long fic, keep an eye out for more one shots 💙💙

Word count: 281

Dividers by the talented @dystopicjumpsuit 🤩

The CCs in your care were honestly quite adorable. 3636 had twisted his ankle during training, and needed to go to the med bay, which meant that 1010 also needed to go to the med bay for a life-threatening stomach ache that he had just noticed. That he was holding 3636’s hand, as they both clutched your sleeve was completely unrelated.

With Alpha, they were soldiers always. With you, they were children, who needed to be reminded that kind touches were valuable too, so 3636 was being treated to a rare piggyback ride through the stark white halls of Tipoca City.

“MoMo?” 3636 asked quietly, using the nickname that 7567 had given you much to Alpha’s eternal irritation.

“Yes, kiddo,” you replied.

“Why do you and Alpha fight so much?”

Before you could answer, 1010 piped up and said, “‘Cause MoMo says he’s an asshole!”

“Where did you get that language?” You asked, trying to hide your smile.

“From you. I heard you say it to Lama Su the other day,” He replied with his signature smirk.

“Eavesdropping again, huh?”

“It’s fun!” He giggled.

“Is that the only reason?” 3636 asked, undeterred.

“We disagree on what’s best for you boys, but ultimately that’s what we both want. We’ll figure it out,” you answered.

“If you both want the same thing, shouldn’t you try being friends?”

“Ad’ika, have you memorized all the components to a light cruiser, as well as you’ve memorized all of the problems Alpha and I have to work on?”

“Yes! I can tell you all of them right now!”

He launched into the list, sparing you from further questioning as the three of you continued down the corridor.

***

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[tcwmatchmakingau]

Everybody Hates Neyo Round 2: Matchmaking Boogaloo

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

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

Rating: M | 18+ | Minors DNI

Wordcount: 6.5K (I know)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now there’s a thought.

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

A timid knock sounded on Reeda’s office door.

“Come,” she called shortly.

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

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

“Take care of it,” she ordered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Admiral.”

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

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

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

“I’m on a date,” she snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Disappointed?” he asked.

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

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

“What?” he sputtered.

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

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

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

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

“Why am I not surprised?” she mocked.

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

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

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

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

“He’s not staying,” Reeda cut in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get inside me,” she hissed.

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

“I hate you,” she breathed. 

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

“I do not beg,” she said. “Ever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Inside?” he asked roughly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neyo looked at her inquisitively. “Your flat?”

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

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

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

“Lived here long?”

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

“It’s nice,” he said. “Very… clean.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was taken aback. “I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ice?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t wear any,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you licking my wounds?” she breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stalker,” she murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

DJ’s masterlist | Join my tag list here

[dystopicjumpsuit]

ask game! give 5 boring facts about yourself and pass it on (no pressure!)

Hi Amber! I got a couple of these, so I'm going to answer just this once, because I am in fact SO boring that I struggled to come up with even five things.

I have a pair of fuzzy slippers that my dogs think are toys. Every time I wear them, the ghoulies try to steal them off my feet.

I collect early twentieth-century cocktail glasses (pre-Prohibition to World War 2 eras). My oldest is from ~1908; my newest is from 1941. Yes, they definitely have lead in them.

I have never owned a toaster that didn't disappoint me in some way.

Folding laundry is my most beloathed household chore. My workaround is to simply never fold my laundry.

I hate talking on the phone so much that I stayed a member of a wine club until the winery literally went out of business, just so I could avoid making a phone call to cancel. And in the end, I still had to call them to coordinate my final shipment. IT WAS ALL FOR NOTHING.

Thank you also to @ireadwithmyears and @mithril-beskar-plastoid for asking!

Also, I am super sick right now, so if this makes no sense, I blame the fever.

[littlemissmanga]

What Are You Wearing?

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader

W/C: 400 (lazy writing)

Rating: R, 18+ (no spice but pretty close)

A/N: I started this months ago but apparently never finished it. Whoops! So here it is :D

It's set in S3, EP 6+7 (Infiltration and Extraction), so very slight season 3 spoilers. Divider by @stars-n-spice

While at Teth, you decide to use Rex’s offered hospitality to finally wash your grimy clothes. But finding yourself without anything to change into, you steal Crosshair’s blacks. Just the top, though, as the bottoms don’t fit. It comes down just long enough to hit your mid-thigh.

Your clothes should be done, so you make your way across the base, not noticing several pairs of eyes following you.

You do, however, notice when Crosshair cuts across your path, glowering at you.

“What are you wearing?”

“Oh, my clothes are in the wash, so I had to borrow your blacks. Sorry, but my stuff should be done now. I was just on my way to grab them now.”

“Pants?”

“Yeah, in the wash.”

“No. From my blacks.”

You glance down at your bare legs. “They’re back on your bunk.”

“I’m aware. Care to tell me why?”

You shrug. “They wouldn’t stay up. The shirt is long enough, anyway. It’s fine.”

Crosshair grabs your arm, his grip firm but not tight enough to hurt.

“No. It isn’t.”

He drags you to one of the empty back rooms, pressing you against the door once it closes behind you and making you shiver.

“Wanna tell me why it isn’t fine, kitten?” he asked, nipping harshly at the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Cause – oh, fuck!” you hiss as his knee comes up to press firmly against your core. But when you try to rock against him, he stops you, demanding his answer. “Cause everyone could see.”

Crosshair growled and pulled you along his thigh, making you writhe on him. “Everyone did see. Saw their eyes track you across the damn room.”

It always surprised you when Crosshair’s jealousy got the better of him, but it never failed to light you up.

You nuzzle into his neck, pressing your tongue against his pulse point until his grip on your hips starts to feel like it’ll bruise.

“They didn’t see everything. That’s just for you.”

Crosshair’s kiss is demanding and all-consuming. His lips dance over yours, forcing them to give beneath his, before he bunches the fabric of his shirt at your sides, teasingly pulling his hands up slowly.

“That’s right. Now show me what’s mine.”

Liked this fic? Check out my Masterlist.

Taglist: @dreamie411 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino

@wolffegirlsunite @secondaryrealm @idontgetanysleep @freesia-writes

@multi-fan-dom-madness @dystopicjumpsuit @sinfulsalutations @sunshinesdaydream

@wizardofrozz @anxiouspineapple99 @dhawerdaverd @mythical-illustrator

[eobe]

😱✨ UH-OH…

Captain „Flirtation mask“ Gregor, you didn‘t expect THAT!! This Mandalorian badass is a rancor tamer AND part of the Chaos Squad💥😎

@wings-and-beskargam My dear Archer, I guess that Clone Commando will call you „Sir“ out of reflex after this encounter ☝️🫠

Thank you so much for answering on Gregor’s Flirtation Mask with your amazing mini-comic showing your incredible armor kit, your skill, your beauty and your creativity!!!! 😱🫠✨ and for so much fun, ori‘vod 🥰🫶

Chaos vode, look at her 😎✨ @lonewolflupe @ghostymarni

Carol, your Flirtation Mask gone Mando wild with sparkles ✨🫶 @clonethirstingisreal

Taglist: @eclec-tech @bixlasagna @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @covert1ntrovert @general-ida-raven @vrycurious @dystopicjumpsuit @chaicilatte @groguandthebadbatch @justanotherdikutsimp @ladylucksrogue @spaceyjessa @morerandombullshit

Bets? 😎 I think one-man-army-but-chuckling-surviving-explosions-joking-about-it-badass-Gregor could have a tiny chance… but not really 🤷🏽‍♀️☺️ I MEAN LOOK AT MY VOD. And she has a rancor. A FEMALE rancor (way more dangerous) named Copi, that tends to snatch clone commandos like Wrecker himself like nothing 😂

[523rdrebel]

Wow! I got tagged by quite a few people, thank you for the tags: @wings-and-beskar @littlemissmanga , @eternal-transcience, @frostycatblr-fandom-files, and @dystopicjumpsuit (if i missed you, I'm sorry!)

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips or close enough, idk, I'm not a cop

- Far Beyond Loyalty (Rex x OC Embrey)

- Royalty AU/ Princess x Body Guard (Isabella x Crosshair) - Answered here

- Murder in Neon - (Fox x Detective OC) - Answered here, here, and here

- Untitled - (Tech x OC Tay'la)

- Tales from the Underworld - OC Trooper Squad (The Underworld Squad) Answered here

- Untitled - (OC Daneel Ramót)

- The CF99 Special - Caf Shop AU (TBB and mutliple OCs) Answered here

I do have many many more ✨️concepts of WIPs✨️ lol but these I at least have a solid enough idea to have Pinterest boards and/or have written a little bit on them.

NPT: @dickarchivist @vimse @freesia-writes @a-single-tulip @starrylothcat @coffeeandbatboys

(Sorry, if you've been tagged already, I wasn't sure)

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Hello hello! For the kiss prompts, may I please request "a kiss after treating a wound" with Cody? I'm still deep in the Cody brainrot (send help), and I would love to see what you do with this!

Thank you!!!

DJ! thank you so much for this lil ask, I hope I did it justice for you and that it inspires further brainrot despite its brevity <3

All Patched Up - Cody x gn!reader

Summary: Cody treats your wounds.

Warnings: slight angst, mostly fluff, mild description of injury (nothin' too serious)

Word Count: 437

You wince at the stinging pain in your palms, trying to mask the discomfort for Cody’s sake. In fact, you try to stay as still as possible, embarrassment circulating within you like a typhoon. He’s quiet, quieter than usual, as he gently dabs bacta over the still-bleeding scrapes on your hands. Usually, you enjoy his silence; but right now, you just wish he’d say something.

Even if that something was “I told you so.” 

Because he had. He’d told you not to overextend on that ladder, not to put too much of your weight near the top. But had you listened? 

The pain in your hands is answer enough. 

Cody leans over your hands, brow furrowed in concentration. He cradles your injured hands in his large, warm grasp while he works. His touch is soft, cautious. In reality, he could have sent you to the medbay for this—Maker knows he has enough on his plate to deal with besides your clumsy self. 

“I can hear you thinking, cyar’ika,” he says, voice low. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty head?” 

You sigh. “I should have listened to you.” 

“You should have,” he agrees. 

Though his tone is neutral, you still grimace. “M’sorry.” 

He presses an adhesive bandage over the wounds, ensuring a proper, clean seal all the way around before he laces his fingers through yours. His head finally raises. Chewing at your bottom lip, you meet his steady gaze with nerves jostling in your stomach. His eyes are wells of patience, warm amber glinting in the harsh fluorescence of his private quarters. 

“I’m not angry, cyar’ika,” he says. “Just glad you’re not more seriously hurt.” 

“I know,” you say, though up until just now, you honestly hadn’t been sure. A weight lifts from your shoulders. “I know.”

“Good.” He lifts your palms to his face, pressing a featherlight kiss to each of your bandages. Though he lowers your left hand back to your lap, he retains his grip on your right, rubbing small circles against your wrist bone. His lips are soft against your skin as he kisses his way up your arm. When his mouth grazes over the crook of your elbow, you shiver. 

Cody kisses his way to your neck, then up your jaw, across your cheek, and finally slots his lips against yours. Sighing against him, you lean into his embrace, pain in your hands momentarily forgotten in the wake of his display of affection. 

When he pulls back, he smirks at you. “Seriously though, next time, please listen.” 

You laugh, knowing full well you won’t. Not if it means being kissed like that.

Pasta: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @bobaprint @thorsterstrudle @droids-you-are-looking-for @goblininawig @cw80831 @dreamie411 @jedi-hawkins @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @9902sgirl

[freesia-writes]

Getting to Know, You, Getting to Know All About You

Is that familiar to any of you? ;) Anyway, I think it was @dystopicjumpsuit and @returnofthepineapple who tagged me (sorry if I missed others!) and this looked fun, so here we are. Especially for those of you who hit the scene while I was on hiatus!!

Last Song: Center by Bethel Worship

Favorite Color: Jewel tone purple

Last Movie: Leo, with the kids, but I probably loved it a million times more than they did. I freaking love kids' movies. 😂

Last Show: I finally started Ahsoka. I know. Don't come after me. 😉

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: If I had to choose, sweet.

Relationship: Married and laden with spawn

Last thing I holonet searched: the youtube link for the song. 😜 Before that it was Southwest Airlines. Exciting.

Current Obsession: Working on the talk about surrender that I get to share at our women's breakfast at church in 10 days! It's been the biggest struggle and the thing I'm the worst at, so I'm the least qualified to speak on it, LOL. But God's been rocking my world with it.

-=-=-=-=-=-

Who else wants to share? And sorry if you've already answered -- tag me in it if so? haha! @jetii @starrylothcat @lightwise @fiveminutetrash @starrylothcat @dreamie411 @eobe @noblelightfighter @sarcastic-nebula @crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf @cw80831 @omglisalithium @the-little-moment @griffedeloup