#tcw fixer x reader

[rare-clone-fic-exchange]

Can't Fight This Feeling

HI! This is @sunshinesdaydream here with a Fixer fic for @sev-on-kamino I hope you enjoy this bit of Fixer fluff!  And thanks because I'm now simping for an adjacent clone.  

Title: Can't Fight This Feeling Pairing: Fixer x GN!Reader Warnings: Kissing, Fluff Summary: Fixer and Reader's first kiss Word Count: 1009 Inspired by: the first kiss prompt list, squishes several together.  and this song "Can't Fight This Feeling"-REO Speedwagon

Divider by @djarrex 

You knew they had returned from the mission. Had even already gotten a preliminary list of equipment that would need possible repair or replacement. Eventually Fixer would make his way to the bay in which you did repairs on the gear the various squads used.  He always did. 

  In the beginning he was suspicious.  How could a natborn be qualified enough to maintain their gear? Especially since the men themselves took care of the basics.  After they were debriefed they were sent to drop the gear that needed repair or replacement with you. 

  “What are your qualifications?” He asked bluntly as he set his gear on the counter. 

  “Fixer! You can’t just ask people what their qualifications are!” Scorch had joked immediately with a wink in your direction. 

  “They can ask me anything they want, anytime,” Sev said, with a smirk. 

  “Specialized school from the time I was twelve standard until I was eighteen. Trade school until I was twenty-two standard, where I achieved multiple awards on my work. Then two years working with my planet’s military until it was absorbed into the GAR half a standard year ago. During which I have received three commendations.” You list off as you pick up an ascension cable with a compromised latch. “By my rough estimate that means I have been officially learning and winning awards in my field for as long as you have been alive. And we are not even counting the years I spent as a child learning my craft from my grandmother and father. So if you feel the need to question my abilities I assume I should also feel the need to question yours?”

  Scorch snickered at that, “they told you, Fixer,”  with a little wave he and the other two left, leaving the man behind with you. 

  Rolling your eyes you put the cable in the repair bin and move on to the next piece of equipment. 

  “That piece is beyond repair,” he said, still wearing his helmet. 

  You swore in your native tongue before answering, “feel free to put it to the test when you get this unit back. Until then, if you have a problem with me, take it up with the chain of command.”  You are already inspecting and sorting the next piece of gear. “That should keep you tied up enough that I can actually do my job” 

  Fixer stood in the repair bay with his helmet on for more than an hour watching you until you looked up once to see he had disappeared. 

  After each mission debrief he showed up after that, whether his equipment was damaged or not.  The next time he very quietly asked, “Do you mind if I watch?”

  You shrug, “Sure, if it makes you feel better” before going about your work. Fixer stood quietly, helmet on, against the wall watching. 

  The third time he asked the same, and after about an hour of watching asked a few questions about what you were working on. 

  Eventually he stopped asking if he could stay and took his helmet off. Edging closer to your workbench. The first time he leaned against your workbench he asked, “do you enjoy your work?”

  You pause, ”I guess, I don’t know. It’s just what I do. Haven’t done anything else.  I like fixing things, making sure people are safe,”

  Fixer nodded and continued watching you with few other questions that day. 

  You began seeing him more between missions. He would wander in and watch you work, your conversations expanding. You began asking him what he could tell you about his squad, then planets his missions were on. 

  You look forward to his visits, the somewhat reserved smile that tugs at his lips while his eyes sparkle with hidden humor. 

  Eventually the realization that he has your heart strikes you. Not that anything could be done. It was against regulations for clones to have established romantic relationships. Not that it stopped many of them. It was overlooked for the most part in favor of better morale.  But Fixer.  By the book Fixer would never consider it and you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him to. If the only capacity you could have him was this, you would take it. 

  Fixer always went to be debriefed after every mission. It was what was supposed to happen, so he always did.  So you were surprised when shortly after the alert that their ship had touched down he rushed into your work bay.  

  Ripping his helmet off and dropping it he strode right up to you, grabbing you by the waist with one hand and pulling you closer while grabbing your chin to tilt your face up to his. 

  “Wha, Fixer? Are you sure about this?” You gasped.  

  “Never been more sure about anything,” he said, leaning in and his lips barely brushing yours. Then with a stuttered breath he pulled you to himself and into an overwhelming kiss. You clung to his armor, feeling the scratches and scuffs under your palms assuring you that this was real. 

  After several long moments he pulled back, cradling your face in his still gloved hands. 

  “Thought this was against regulations,” you say, looking up at him.  

  “Kark regulations,” he nearly growled, kissing you again. 

  You pull back, “who are you and what have you done with my Fixer?”

  He grinned, “Yours?” 

  You stammer, unable to form a thought to answer with. He nuzzles against you, “I would like that, would you be mine too?”

  Fighting back tears of emotion you answer, “only if you kiss me again.”  With another grin, he does. 

  A whistle sounded from the doorway, partnered with a “This couldn’t wait until after the debrief?” From Sev. 

  “No,” Fixer said shortly before returning to kissing you.

  “Leave him alone, Sev. He’s finally loosening up!” Scorch answered. 

  “We still need to get to the debrief,” Boss pointed out. 

  Then Scorch was grabbing Fixer by the back of his armor, towing him away. “You can get back to your cyar’ika later, work now,” he said cheerfully. 

[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.”

[wanderinginksplot]

Dress Code (Fixer x gn!reader)

You and Fixer have to go undercover at a Canto Bight casino. He's less than thrilled about having to dress nice.

Word Count: 4,300

Warnings: mentions of weapons, mentions of gambling, skeevy casino owner, date auction, slight dubcon (with skeevy casino owner)

“I hate this,” Fixer complained, tugging at his collar.

You sighed, batting his hands away so you could repair the damage he had done. “It’s fine. We only need to get in, complete the objective, and get out. Just bad luck that this place has a dress code.”

Fixer let you smooth down the fabric of his collar, politely turning his head to the side before he let out a heavy sigh. But he didn’t complain any more and he didn’t argue.

Not that there was much to argue. You were right about the mission’s parameters. The Regal Nimbus Casino required all guests to be in formal clothing. It was a simple requirement considering that this auction wasn’t one of their typical events.

You smiled politely at the guards as Fixer presented the documents that proved you were permitted to be at the auction. The Regal Nimbus was one of the largest and most ornate casinos on Canto Bight - which was saying something considering the entire planet seemed designed to be as eye-catching as possible. It had a dress code on normal evenings, so you hadn’t been shocked when Sergeant Boss had warned you that you would have to wear formal clothing to this auction.

All of this was in an effort to find evidence that one of the Republic’s top weapons designers was selling his designs to the Separatists as well.

Tollish Grif had been a brilliant mind in the field of weaponry for many years, his designs a staple of the ongoing war against the Separatists. Throughout his life, the Nabooian had never been suspected of so much as an air traffic violation. However, when a weapon recovered from one of the Separatist generals had shown a concerning amount in common with some of Grif’s designs, the Republic had been forced to launch an investigation.

The trouble was that Grif had a single, all-encompassing hobby: gambling. He spent most of his time - and a great deal of his money - on Canto Bight, and the Regal Nimbus seemed to be a particular favorite of his.

Somewhere along the line, someone had put together the idea that Grif would have been purchasing chips with both Republic credits and money from the Confederacy of Independent Systems. However, all attempts to gain intelligence from the Regal Nimbus had been shut down. The owner, a human male named Orru Sugra, had refused to help. He claimed that a breach of privacy could harm the reputation of his casino, even if the request for information had come from the Republic itself.

“Security is tight,” Fixer commented lowly. From the subtle double-tap of his back teeth, you knew he had opened the communications channel with the rest of Delta Squad. You did the same, and the comm bead in your ear let you in on the ongoing conversation.

“-isn’t a shock,” Boss was saying. “Intel told us that casinos like this one have strong security. We go as planned.”

“Grif doesn’t seem to be here,” you reported. “I haven’t seen him in the crowd and I didn’t see his name on the list of guests who have checked in.”

“We knew he may not show up,” Sev said. “He’s got some weapons expo on Triple Zero tomorrow morning.”

“Besides, we don’t need him,” Scorch pitched in. “We just need to track his money. Plenty of that in the casino.”

“Good evening, friends,” a male oozed from nearby. You and Fixer turned together to see who was speaking. The man smiled politely at Fixer, but his stare lingered on you.

“Good evening,” you replied politely, trying to stifle the feeling of unease that ran through you as you studied the unfamiliar man.

“I am Orru Sugra,” he said gallantly. “Owner of the Regal Nimbus.”

He extended a hand toward Fixer as he introduced himself, but the commando pretended not to see it. The calluses on his hands would give him away as being a man accustomed to hard work rather than one of the wealthy elite found here.

You quickly gave Sugra your hand instead, offering tonight’s alias in return. Up close, Sugra’s white hair only accentuated the gray cast to his skin and you wondered if he was ill, perhaps even dying. He certainly didn’t seem healthy, though he was far from old.

“You must be very proud,” you replied. “This place is stunning.”

“It must be to prove equal to hosting such stunning guests as yourself,” Sugra replied with a sickening smile. “Please, my dear, enjoy the auction. I am certain that we will meet again before the evening draws to a close.”

You gave him your most dazzling smile, clutched at Fixer’s arm as though you needed his support to guide you through the room, and moved along.

“What do we have on Sugra?” Fixer asked quietly.

“Not much,” Scorch reported. “Human, been managing the Nimbus as long as anyone can remember. No records of his name in connection with trafficking anything. Seems to be just a good citizen of the Republic.”

“Other than refusing to give us the information we need,” Sev said darkly. “I’m still gonna assume he’s a di’kut since he made us drag ourselves all the way out here.”

“Well, that’s one vote for, one against,” you said lightly.

“Ignore Sev,” Scorch told you. “He’s just mad he doesn’t get to gamble.”

“You could have been here instead of me, vod,” Fixer replied. “Then you could have been the one wearing the ridiculous outfit.”

“We need to keep the comms clear,” Boss ordered. “Mingle, scout for a good terminal to slice, and contact us if there’s trouble. Delta out.”

And the comm bead went quiet in your ear.

Fixer’s hands rose to his collar again, but he dropped them when you gave him a sharp look. “This is ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you countered, smiling to take the sting out of your words. “You look great.”

It was true. He was wearing a dark jacket, neatly buttoned over a crisp white shirt. It wasn’t often that you saw any of Delta Squad not wearing their armor, undersuits, workout gear, or sleeping clothes. You hadn’t even seen them in civvies, now that you thought about it. The jacket emphasized Fixer’s broad shoulders and narrow waist while his fitted pants made your eyes trail down over his lean legs.

Fixer didn’t look like the perfect soldier he was. He looked polished, classy, but his tawny eyes still held an edge of danger. He managed to give off the impression that he was trained to eliminate any threats that came his way, and - more importantly - he was willing to do exactly that.

Or maybe you just saw that on his face because you knew it was true.

“Thanks, but-” Fixer cut himself off, gritting his teeth in a way that made the muscles in his jaw flex. “Civilian clothing is impractical, uncomfortable, and pointless.”

“It’s your own fault,” you told him, shrugging when he shot you a disbelieving look. “You’re the slicing expert. You’re the closest thing Delta has to a spy, so it makes sense that jobs like this would fall to you.”

Fixer scoffed, but you could tell he was thinking that over. At least, it was the first time his complaining had paused since you arrived at the Regal Nimbus, so you pressed onward.

“How do you think the others would do here? Boss would be capable, but he would be so obviously uncomfortable that he’d give himself away. Besides, he hates slicing.”

“He doesn’t hate it,” Fixer corrected, the hint of a smirk tugging at one corner of his full lips. “He’s slow at it.”

“See?” you said, smiling at the confirmation that this conversational trail had value. “Sev would have already been spotted by Sugra. He would have shaken his hand and gotten into an arm-wrestling match or tried to stab him or something.”

“He never goes anywhere without at least one vibroblade,” Fixer agreed.

“And Scorch-” you paused to let Fixer give a loud snort. “Yeah. He may have survived the mingling part of things, but there’s no way he would have the patience to slice into a terminal.”

Fixer glanced away, but you could still see the smile on his handsome face. “Demolitions and slicing aren’t operations with a lot of overlap.”

“Exactly,” you told him. “So, you see, it’s your own fault that you’re stuck here. You’re too good at your job. You slice quickly and cleanly, and you’re steady under pressure. You can mingle one moment and disappear the next. If you think about it, you’re the perfect person for this job. You never had a chance to avoid it.”

Fixer was turning back to you, mouth already opening to say something in reply - you were hopeful from his smile that it would be light-hearted and pleasant - but his eyes flicked past you and the smile turned to a grimace. You just barely caught sight of a group of auction attendees eyeing you with naked admiration before Fixer scowled at them. They suddenly remembered other places they needed to be and scattered before you could begin responding to their bold looks.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to disappear with you around here,” Fixer said, tone petulant. “You’re drawing too much attention.”

You shrugged, determined to keep the conversation as light and pleasant as it had been. Opening your arms as if inviting him to take another look at your outfit - just as fancy as Fixer’s, but in far flashier fabric - you said, “That’s why I’m here. I’ll pull the attention away from you while you find a good terminal to slice.”

Fixer shot you an unamused look, but you just smiled broadly at him. “You’re welcome.”

He rolled his eyes as you snagged two glasses of something that looked expensive and alcoholic from a tray carried by a passing waiter. You handed one to him and began to meander slowly through the room. “Come on. Let’s find you a terminal.”

As luck would have it, there was an extremely promising data terminal in the hall by the refreshers. It was subtle, hidden behind a code-locked security screen, but it would take Fixer less than two minutes to remove the screen and get to the real work. More importantly, it was far from the place where the auction was going to take place. Fixer would be able to slice in uninterrupted and you would be able to keep an eye on the entrance and warn him if any other attendees started in his direction.

It was the best of all possible scenarios, but you had worked with Delta Squad long enough to know not to say that out loud.

“Attention, fine patrons of the Regal Nimbus,” a familiarly oily voice oozed, and you turned to see the Nimbus’s owner standing in the middle of the crowd, his voice projecting by means of a small microphone clipped to his collar. “I am Orru Sugra, owner of this establishment. We are so pleased to have you here tonight. For those of you with familiar faces, we welcome you back. For those guests we are meeting for the first time-”

Sugra’s pale gaze traveled across the crowd, and you couldn’t fight the feeling that it zeroed in on you and Fixer, pausing for an uncomfortable moment. You felt Fixer straighten up beside you and you smoothed your fingers over his forearm without stopping to wonder about the too-familiar gesture.

Sugra’s mouth quirked into a smile as he continued, “-we hope to see much more of you. Thank you for joining us. Our auction will begin in just a few minutes. Please make your way to the auction room.”

Sugra stepped back into the crowd, which obligingly followed him to the area where the auction was meant to take place. The wait staff was concentrated there, waiting with trays of drinks and ornate bites of food. Fixer nodded at you, a gesture you replied to in kind, joining the crowd and pointedly not watching as he moved toward the data terminal he had chosen.

The auction ‘room’ was not quite a room in the traditional sense. It was separated from the expansive main room of the casino by broad swaths of fabric dangling from strategic places on the high ceiling. The fabric - the ostentatious gold, silver, and blue of the Regal Nimbus - swept down to lie in artful folds on the shining floors. The overall effect was of a room within a room, with wide gaps between the cloth strips to keep things from getting overly claustrophobic.

There were a few chairs in front of the subtle stage, but they seemed to be reserved for the casino’s wealthiest and most established patrons. That was fine. You had planned for an evening of standing, walking, and even running if the situation called for it. Standing for the length of an auction was no real cause for concern.

As you stepped between a shining blue piece of fabric and one of metallic gold, the auction started. To your mingled relief and concern, Sugra was not the one leading the event. You had been dreading listening to that voice for as long as the auction lasted, but you also didn’t like the idea of him walking around. There was too much chance that he would find Fixer and destroy this operation. You sighed lightly through your nose. You might end up needing to run that night, after all.

With some careful shifting and one brief interlude when you followed a member of the wait staff under the guise of pursuing a second helping of the delicate pastry on their tray, you had set yourself up in the perfect spot. You were in the back of the ‘room’, munching on your pastry as you kept a casual eye on the hallway that ran toward the refreshers.

The auction proceeded as planned, but Fixer had decided to clear the refreshers and divert the wait staff before he started slicing. The third item was already on the stage by the time you stopped seeing wait staff trickle out from the hallway.

You activated the comm bead in your ear with a quick double tap of your back teeth. You didn’t have anything to say or the opportunity to say it without attracting too much attention, but you knew Fixer would be checking in soon.

Sure enough, you heard his familiar voice say, “1140 commencing slice now. Estimated time: ten minutes to full data retrieval.”

“Delta copies,” Boss confirmed, just as you started a timer on the chronometer you were wearing. It was a rather excellent recreation of an expensive brand's model, so it didn’t seem terribly out of place in your outfit.

Your mind immediately began whirring through the prospective timeline. The event was in full swing, and the more sought-after items scheduled to be auctioned in the second half. By the time Fixer had finished, you would be close to the halfway point and it may seem slightly suspicious if you left at the brief pause scheduled in the middle of the auction. But you could always pretend that you had been interested in one particular item that had already been sold by that point.

This mission was a simple information retrieval. No one had shot at you or even threatened you. The way things were shaping up, this would be an easy out. Granted, things often went wrong, but anticipating bad things wouldn’t make it any easier to deal with them, not in this situation. You tried to force yourself to relax. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t go well.

Just past the two minute mark, a wave of unease washed over you.

“Hello, my dear,” Sugra’s voice slithered around you, politely lowered to avoid disturbing the rest of the crowd. “I’m afraid I must ask you a favor.”

You were instantly wary, far too much so to hide away. Instead, you played it up to a comical level, squinting suspiciously at Sugra as you pasted a smile on your face. “That sounds ominous. What can I do for you?”

“We’re one item short on our auction,” Sugra said gravely.

Your mind started spinning with confusion. Was he accusing you of stealing?

“Did you steal something?” Scorch’s laughing voice asked in your ear.

You ignored the teammate who was ensconced a safe distance away. “I’m afraid I don’t understand…”

“Here we go,” Sugra said. “Smile, my lovely friend.”

A spotlight shone on you and Sugra as the crowd turned in your direction. The subtle microphone clipped to Sugra’s collar broadcasted his voice to the group without any effort on his part.

“Patrons, we have almost reached our short break, but we must have one more item in this half of the auction.” You were still lost, but - judging from the amused smiles on the faces of the people around you - this was far from unexpected. “As always, the last item before our halfway point is a date with an enchanting member of the audience.”

Sugra turned back to you, beaming. “Would you do us the honor of donating an evening of your time? All proceeds are given to support a worthy cause.”

You paused, smiling back out of reflexive need not to draw too much attention. It was difficult to think through the pros and cons while also tuning out the laughter that was now emanating from your comm bead in triplicate - though Fixer didn’t seem to think it was very amusing - but you tried.

Drawing too much attention was a bad idea… or was it? Your job was to keep the eyes of the auction attendees away from Fixer. If they were on you and the stage instead, you could give him the best possible chance of maintaining his secrecy.

Besides, you wouldn’t be on Canto Bight long enough to worry about actually going on a date with whoever won the bid.

With your most winning, glittering smile, you graciously allowed Sugra to take your hand and guide you toward the stage. The crowd applauded politely at your good-natured acceptance of Sugra’s proposal.

When you had reached the stage, Sugra positioned you in the soft light that had illuminated every item up for auction. He stepped away with a gesture like he was presenting you to the crowd. “The next item is a special one. This stunning guest has agreed to donate a date to the highest bidder. As always, proceeds for this item will be donated to the Sheev Palpatine Underprivileged Youth Program, benefiting youth in the lower levels of Coruscant.”

Sugra’s pale eyes traveled over the audience. “If you have been stymied about what to get for the person in your life who has everything… this is a marvelous option. If you win, you get a charming companion for an evening and you have supported the youth of Coruscant.”

You nodded sympathetically, internally encouraging Sugra to keep talking. The longer he spoke, the more likely it was that Fixer would be able to finish retrieving the information before the auction’s attendees rushed to the refreshers in the brief intermission.

However, Sugra seemed to have finished by that point, stepping down from the stage and allowing the auctioneer to take his place. “We will begin the bidding at fifty thousand credits.”

“Too much,” Sev commented in your ear. “No one will want to buy dinner for a stranger that badly.”

“Nah, it’s good,” Scorch told him. “They’ll have to start lowering the opening bid eventually. The more time it takes, the better.”

“I have fifty, do I hear fifty-five?” the auctioneer continued, cutting through the chatter over your comm bead. “I have fifty-five, do I hear sixty? Sixty, I have sixty, do I hear seventy?”

The rapid speech from the auctioneer was met with occasional waving from the crowd as people bid on a date with you. It was flattering in a sense, but intensely dehumanizing. You breathed a silent prayer between your smile-gritted teeth, urging Fixer to hurry.

“One hundred and ten thousand credits to Mr. Sugra himself!” the auctioneer announced. “One hundred ten, one hundred twenty? One hundred twenty? One fifteen? One hundred ten, one fifteen? One hundred ten going once, going twice… Sold! The winner is Mr. Sugra with a bid of one hundred and ten thousand credits!”

Keeping your smile from turning openly uncomfortable was one of the great challenges of your life, especially when Sugra stepped back toward the stage with his arms outstretched like he would embrace you. The only thing that saved you was Fixer’s announcement of, “Information retrieval complete.”

You relaxed just in time for Sugra to embrace you. Behind you, the auctioneer announced, “We will take a short intermission before beginning the second half of the auction.”

To your profound displeasure, Sugra didn’t release you. Instead, he trailed his fingers down your arm until he could capture your hand with his own. “So, my dear, where would you like to go on our evening together? As I’m sure you can see, money is of no consequence.”

“I can’t claim to be very familiar with Canto Bight,” you hedged. “I trust you to choose an appropriate restaurant. Then maybe dancing? Or a holofilm?”

At this point, you were just listing typical date activities while keeping desperate watch for Fixer.

Sugra chuckled lowly. “Dancing sounds very… intimate. I think that will do perfectly. I do admit that I may have overscheduled myself. I believe that I am already occupied tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” you said, trying not to sound as confused as you felt. Why had he proposed auctioning off a date, then fought to be the highest bidder when he was busy? “Maybe the next night, then.”

“I feel terrible about the mistake,” Sugra told you. “Allow me to take you out tonight instead.”

“Tonight?” you repeated, your stomach tensing unpleasantly. “I- I can’t. I’m sorry. I need time to find an outfit, and-”

“What you’re wearing now is extremely flattering,” Sugra assured. “It would be perfectly appropriate for our date.”

“But- That wouldn’t leave you enough time to set anything up,” you countered. “I mean, I’m fine with a quick meal on the street-”

“Oh, my lovely prize,” Sugra sighed, laughing openly. Your stomach tensed even further at being referred to as a prize. “Do you truly think I lack the influence to secure a table any time I wish? You wound me. Perhaps I’ll ask you to heal me as well.”

You glanced up at him, brows furrowed as he gave his oily smile. “I think you could heal me with a kiss. What do you say?”

He started drawing you in closer as you tried to decide whether to make an excuse and leave or just hit him.

“Hey,” Fixer’s voice said from behind you, the durasteel tone in his voice giving the word an intensity it lacked on its own. You and Sugra turned at the same time - you with relief on your face and him wearing confusion on his own.

“Hello, my friend,” Sugra greeted, voice pleasant though you could see the simmering anger in his face. “I apologize, but I simply must finish my conversation with your stunning date-”

“I’m not your friend,” Fixer said coldly. “I don’t know how your ridiculous bidding scheme was taken seriously, but we’re leaving. What you do tomorrow night is up to the two of you, but tonight is mine.”

And, with that, Fixer wrenched you away from Sugra - or would have, if you hadn’t gone easily, even eagerly. Suddenly, Fixer’s hand was wrapped around your waist and you were fighting off a shiver at the unexpected but welcome contact.

“Surely it could not hurt to cut your evening short-” Sugra started, seemingly unable to understand when to back off.

“I could cut many things short right now,” Fixer threatened, voice dark. “But my evening won’t be one of them.”

Sugra’s mouth dropped open at the overt violence in Fixer’s statement, but Fixer was wholly unconcerned. He tugged at your arm. “Come on.”

You followed… and so did Sugra. Fixer heaved a sigh, turned around to face you, and dropped his mouth to yours.

It took approximately half a second for you to melt into the kiss. Fixer’s lips were soft and he hummed slightly as you carded your fingers through his hair. You heard Sugra make a noise behind you and your hands tightened involuntarily.

Fixer groaned against your mouth, parting his lips a moment before you did the same. The kiss deepened so quickly that your knees weakened. Your fingers were still anchored in his hair, but Fixer’s hands were roaming your body in a firm, possessive exploration that made you shudder against him.

By the time you surfaced for air, Sugra had disappeared and you were half-deaf from the cheers of Delta Squad ringing in your ear.

Now, it was your turn to drag Fixer away - specifically, toward the door of the Regal Nimbus. After that display, there was no need to create an intricate explanation for why you were leaving. That much should be clear to anyone paying attention.

“Nice job, Fixer,” Boss congratulated. “You beat your estimate by a considerable time.”

“That’s not all, either,” Scorch told him. “Fixer just set a new personal record for data retrieval time.”

“I had better motivation than usual,” Fixer replied, casting a dark look over his shoulder at the casino you were rapidly walking away from.

You paused a moment, wondering if the kiss had been jealousy, irritation, or a subtle declaration of feelings. Then Fixer’s arm tightened around your waist and you stopped caring as much. That was a question for later. Right now, you were just going to let yourself enjoy the way this mission had played out.

---

A/N - This was requested by steelphoenix on AO3! The request was something featuring Fixer being grumpy.

For anyone interested in the eventual (inevitable) Delta Squad x fem!reader fic I'm going to have to write, this will probably end up being a part of it. I'll change it around a bit to fit the story, but yeah. Fair warning.

Thanks for reading! You can find other works on my masterlist or sign up for my taglist here!

Taglist: @rexs-wife @sugarpuffsstuff @stargazingthenightaway @just-some-girl-92 @kimageddon @ladysongmaster @adriiibell @boomtowngirl @quietplaceinthestars @bitchylittleredhead @blck-omen @lackofhonor @buddee @captxin-rex @louise-12 @salaminus @literallydontlook @lucyhelena @808tsuika @ladykatakuri @shawtyitsyou @bikerlorian @torchbearerkyle @frietiemeloen

[vodika-vibes]

so in the delta squad masterlist (my autocorrect wanted to write masterpiece….not wrong…) we’re missing Fixer and this is a pity. So I would like to request something for him. Maybe the reader once saves his life and he’s like super mad because ItS aGaInSt ThE rEgUlAtIoNs or something but then some time later it’s the other way around and he does not hesitate to save the reader (and break the rules) because surprise! He’s madly in love

that would be nice…🫣

The Delta's Jedi

Summary: You've been working alone for the majority of your career, so when you're assigned Delta Squad, you're less than thrilled. But your opinion quickly changes.

Pairing: Clone Commando Fixer x Jedi!Reader

Word Count: 2548

Warnings: Mentions of torture (nothing detailed)

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So, my plan had been to write my normal four stories for today, but this idea had me in a stranglehold, so this is the only other thing I'm going to write today. Also, there might be a minor implication that the reader is also in a relationship with the other members of Delta, but it could also be seen as just being a close friendship.

When you were assigned to assist Delta Squad, you weren’t sure it was a good idea. Mostly because as a Jedi Shadow, you’ve always been better suited to working alone, and partly because you were pretty sure that your specific skill set wouldn’t mesh with theirs.

And, by and large, you were right.

You specialize in information gathering. A spy, for lack of a better word. And while you are handy with a saber, the truth is you rarely use yours and you actually have a preference towards blasters.

After all, lightsabers are the opposite of stealthy. 

And Delta Squad already had an intelligence person. In the form of Fixer. So you argued against it, at length. But you were overruled. Of course, you’ve never been one to follow orders directly.

So, here you are. Ostensibly on the same mission as Delta Squad, just…not attached to them directly. In fact, you’re pretty sure that they aren't aware that they have a Jedi yet.

Yikes. You’re going to write a stern letter to the Council about important information slipping through the cracks.

But, that’s a problem for later.

You absently reach out through the force, pinging the four men under your care almost absently, so you’re able to keep track of where they are and if they’re in danger, and then you slip into the ventilation shaft and silently enter the facility.

You manage to secure the information you need, plus some extra, and you’re about to leave the facility to wait at the ship for Delta, when you get a ping from the force string you attached to the four men. 

Three of them, Boss, Sev, and Scorch, are fine. Stressed and worried, but largely fine, but Fixer has been separated from them, and appears to be going down.

On the one hand, you could trust his brothers to save him. On the other, however-

You slip your comm extension into your ear, and effortlessly slice into Delta’s comms, “Pull back to the drop ship,” You order as your gaze tracks Fixer’s location, “

There’s silence for a moment, and then a deep voice, “Who’s this?”

“What, you weren’t told you were getting a Jedi?”

“No,” Boss said, sounding annoyed, “We weren’t.”

You hiss out a sharp breath as you jump back into the vent and start navigating your way down, “This war is a hot mess,” You bitch under your breath, “The left hand doesn’t know what the right is up to.”

“We can’t just leave,” Scorch, your mind provides, says irritably, “We haven’t gotten the intel, and they have Fixer!”

“Relax Scorch.” You hear his sputter, “I have the intel plus some bonus intel. And I’m heading to Fixer as we speak.”

“We can be your backup.” Sev offers.

“You can go back to the ship,” You silently drop down a floor, and then pause to get your bearings, “Listen. You’re all very good. But so am I. They didn’t assign just any old Jedi to Delta. Ah, there it is.” You turn and crawl down a vent, “Fixer isn’t going to be able to get out the way that I got in, which means I need you all to make some noise.”

“A diversion.” Boss says thoughtfully.

“Just so. I’m very good, but I’m not ‘take on a whole army solo’ good. Not with someone to protect, at least.” You grimace as you slide through a suddenly smaller section, “So, I’m thinking a series of explosions-”

“Based at different locations-” Scorch continues.

“And with me keeping the crowd thin-” Sev adds.

“That might just work,” Boss agrees, “You’ll get Fixer out?”

“You have my word.”

“Alright General,” You make a face at the title, “Happy hunting.” And then the comm cuts out, and you heave out a sigh as you continue your trek downward.

Eventually you find the small room that Fixer is being held in. A handful of droids, some Geonosians. Nothing too bad. Aside, of course, from the entire army standing between you, Fixer, and the dropship.

Oh well.

You carefully balance yourself on the vent opening and then you kick down.

All attention turns to you, and you casually, as though you don’t have a dozen blasters aimed at you, cross the room and pick up Fixer’s helmet. And then you turn to the room at large and you smile. 

You lift your hands, Fixer’s helmet hanging from your fingers, and you push-

The droids slam into the wall with enough force that they shatter, the Geonosians, tragically, do not. So you draw your saber, and you move. 45 seconds later, the three Geonosian guards are no longer a threat, and you’re kneeling behind Fixer to free him from his manacles. 

“Who the kriff are you?” He asks as you hand him your helmet.

“I’m Delta Squad’s Jedi General. Nice to meet you.”

He blinks at you, twice, and then he frowns, “Regulations dictate that any clone captured by the enemy get left behind.”

You move so you’re crouching in front of him, “I cannot emphasize this enough, but fuck regulations.”

Fixer scowls, “I think I hate you.”

“So long as you’re alive at the end of this, you can hate me as much as you like.” You stand and pull a second saber off your belt and you press your finger to your comm, “Boss? I have Fixer, just waiting for an opening.”

“Copy that, General.” Boss says steadily, “One distraction in 3…2…now!”

The building shakes as there’s a massive explosion somewhere above you, “I found a fuel tank,” Scorch sounds far too pleased with himself.

“We’ll see you both at the drop ship,” Boss says, “Good luck.”

One hour later, you’re safely sitting on the gunship, your lightsabers stowed at the small of your back once more, and you’re wrapping your hand in bacta infused bandages.

“So, why didn’t you tell us that you were on the mission to begin with?” Boss asks, his arms folded over his chest.

You flex your hand, grimace, and unwrap the bandage to try again, “I’m not used to working with other people. I figured that I would just work tangentially alongside you until I was able to convince the Council that you didn’t actually need a Jedi.”

“And then Fixer got snatched.”

“And then Fixer got snatched.” You agree, “I’m a Jedi, it’s not in my nature to leave people behind.” This time, when you flex your hand, it doesn’t feel half as bad, so you leave the bandage as is, and then you flash a small grin and introduce yourself.

*********

Contrary to your worries, you actually fit in pretty well with Delta squad. Sure, there were a few bumps to work out, but it didn’t take long before you developed a strong working relationship with the group. Which very quickly turned into a genuine friendship.

Well. With most of them.

Fixer doesn’t like you. At you, you don’t think he likes you, he’s kind of hard to read in the force, and, well, you don’t like prodding at emotions in the force. It makes you feel guilty.

So you make due with a professional relationship Fixer. He knows his stuff, after all. And your specialties tend to cross in some ways, so you actually end up working together a lot.

And sometimes you might think that he actually likes you, when you’re talking about the latest advances in tech and cybersecurity, and then it’s almost like he suddenly remembers who he’s talking to, and he goes cold again.

Honestly. Fixer’s just confusing.

It is too bad. He’s cute, and you are nursing a small crush on him. But that’s your problem to deal with, and if he’s not interested then he’s not interested.

So you put it aside and focus on building a strong work relationship.

And you think it’s working, none of the missions you go on with Delta go horribly wrong, after all.

And then the Council assigns you a solo mission.

And while Delta Squad argued against it, claiming that having back-up is important, you do manage to talk them into letting you go on the mission solo. They’re just protective. It’s adorable.

After all, it’s just a simple intel gathering mission. You’ve been doing them solo since you were a child.

Famous last words, so to speak.

********

“-eneral. General, can you hear me?”

You groan as pain shoots through your entire body, “F’xer?” You slur his name out, the mixture of pain, drugs, and suppressors making it incredibly difficult to focus. 

“Oh, thank the force.” He sounds relieved, “General, are you alright?”

“Depends,” You manage to get out, your voice slightly clearer.

“Oh what?”

“Your definition of alright.”

“Are you injured?” Fixer asks.

“Yeah. P-pretty badly, by the feel of it.” You grimace as you try to keep your balance. You’re not quite hanging from the middle of the cell you’re in. Not quite in the sense that the chains holding your arms over your head are just long enough that you can balance on your toes, but they’re also too short for you to actually be able to relax.

And you’ve been hanging here for a while, based on the ache in your shoulders, and the fact that you can’t feel your hands.

“General,” Fixer’s voice cuts through the haze, “Look around you, what can you see?”

“I’m…in a cell. Underground maybe. There are no windows.” You answer, “Fixer, what are you doing here?”

“It’s not just me. We’re all here.”

“Why?”

He’s quiet for a moment, “It’s been almost a month, General. Did you think we wouldn’t come for you?”

“I thought that regulations said that I was supposed to be left behind.” You joke weakly.

There’s a long moment of silence, before he sighs softly, “I would never. Even if it is regulation.”

You release a slow breath, “Well…that's good to know.”

“We’re going to be there soon, General. Just…just hold on, okay?”

“Copy that. I’ll just…hang out.” A delirious giggle bubbles from your lips, and you can hear Fixer’s concern over the comm. It’s fine, when they get here they’ll realize it’s hilarious.

You must have blacked out again, because the next thing you’re aware of is rapid gunfire, and shouting. And then your cell door slams open. You blink blearily at the man standing in the door. You can’t see clearly, but you’re pretty sure you see white and green, which means Fixer.

He crosses over to you and reaches up to pick the manacles holding your hands over your head. And he catches you when you fall into him. “I have you General. I have you. We’re going to get you home, and you’re going to get a nice bacta bath.”

You blink up at him, hazily, and he curses, “What did they give to you?”

“Just about everything, I think.” You admit, and then, when the world spins nauseatingly, you press your forehead against his armor, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk.”

And you think you’re imagining it, but you swear you feel his gloved hand press against the back of your head, “That’s alright, we brought a stretcher.” He turns away from you, long enough to pull the hover stretcher into the room, and then he carefully sets you on it.

Just before you slip back into unconsciousness, you feel the prick of an IV sliding into your arm, and you hear Fixer’s voice, “Everything’s going to be fine, General. We’ll take care of you now.”

*********

The next time you wake, it’s to the annoying beep of a heart monitor, and the sharp smell of antiseptic.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” You turn your head slightly and see Fixer sitting next to the bed you’re in, “Good morning, General.”

“Morning,” You mumble, “We’re back at base?”

“We are. You’ve been in a bacta tank for two weeks. And you’ve been under 24 hour watch since you were pulled out a day ago.” Fixer explains, “It…it was pretty close there, for a bit.”

You press an arm over your eyes, “Sorry.”

“Not your fault. You shouldn’t have been sent alone.” He hesitantly takes your hand, the one closest to him, “It’s not going to happen again.”

“Yeah?”

“Boss called the Jedi Council after we got you back and there was no small amount of threatening done.” Fixer sounds amused, “And when the council asked about the intel rather than you, Sev and Scorch exploded on them too.”

“And that worked?”

“It was accepted that Delta Squad is far too valuable to risk us going AWOL due to losing you.” Fixer says dryly.

You laugh weakly, “You would never.”

“If we lost you, we just might.”

You shook your head, and smiled at him, “You’re loyal soldiers.”

“We are. Loyal to the person who expected us to be more than soldiers. To the person who expected us to use our best judgment rather than mindlessly following orders.”

You drop your arm and blink at him in surprise.

“You seem surprised.”

“I would expect this kind of talk from Scorch or Sev…not so much you.” You admit.

He chuckles, “The 212 is fiercely loyal to their Jedi, as is the 104. Is it so surprising that we’re just as loyal to our Jedi?”

You sigh and sink back against your pillow, “No. I suppose not.”

“Good.” He pauses and his grip around your hand tightens, “I need to tell you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t hate you. I know I’m not as…overtly affectionate with you as, say, Scorch is, but I don’t hate you.” Fixer explains quietly, “It just took me some time to figure out what it is I do feel for you.”

“And what’s that?”

He smiles wryly, “I’m afraid I’m in love with you. And I know you’re a Jedi, and I know it’s not allowed, but-”

You laugh softly, “I’m a Shadow, Fixer. The rules don’t necessarily apply to me like they do with most other Jedi.” Slowly, painfully, you roll onto you side and you reach out to lightly touch his cheek, “For what it’s worth, the only reason everyone knows that Jedi don’t do relationships is to protect us from people trying to use sex or romance to influence us.”

He blinks, twice, and then huffs out a sharp breath, “That makes so much sense. The Jedi are seen as incorruptible because they can’t be bribed.”

“The ancient Jedi were clever assholes. There are those who have decided to adhere to that rumor as the truth, but you won’t find a single Shadow who views it as anything more than rumor.” You smile softly.

“Oh…so-”

“So,” You continue, “I’m willing to take a relationship a day at a time with you, if that’s agreeable to you?”

“Very agreeable.” He pauses, “Does that mean I can kiss you?”

“I taste like bacta.”

“Don’t care, and also not an answer.”

You smile at him gently, “Yes, you can kiss me.”

Fixer leans in and gently, very gently, brushes his lips against yours. And then he pulls away, “I’ll kiss you properly when you’re not still laying in a hospital bed.”

You laugh softly, and settle back on your pillow, “Alright, give me an update. What’s been going on the last…month and a half?”

[vodika-vibes]

Hello my dear! Tis I, 💋 anon here to celebrate 500 followers with you!!

Can I please have topaz (affectionate love) with Fixer in the winter, please? I think sending Fixer to get a list of ingredients for baking more cookies while the reader gets started on the first batch would be a cute story idea.

I can’t wait to see what you come up with! Pen and sword, my dear!

Love,

💋 anon

@kiss-anon

Easier

Summary: Fixer loves you, and wants to make your life easier, in any way that he can.

Pairing: Clone Commando Fixer x GN!Reader

Word Count: 590

Prompt: Topaz - Affectionate Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I wasn't able to squeeze in winter here, unless you wanna picture that they're preparing for a Life Day party. It didn't make sense since they were inside the whole time. Sorry

“I’m back!”

You look up from where you’re eyeing the bowl of half formed dough critically, a small smile crossing your face at the familiar voice echoing through your home. 

You hear the quiet sound of boots being kicked off, and then Fixer is standing in the kitchen, unpacking the bags. “I got everything you needed. And then some.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” You note as you walk over to him and slide your arms around his waist from behind, burying your face in his back and inhaling the fresh, clean scent of him, before you peek around him, “What extra did you get?”

He glances at you, a small smile on his lips, before he lightly tugs you under his arm and presses a light kiss to the top of your head, “Well, I got everything on your list.” He motions to the eggs and the small bottle of vanilla, “But I also bought you some ice cream,” He gestures to the carton of speciality ice cream you prefer, “some breading for the chicken tomorrow. And,” He picks up a bag of what you thought was chocolate chips, but, now that you’re looking at it properly, you realize that they’re peanut butter chips.

“Ooh,” You take the bag thoughtfully, “If I mix these with the chocolate chips I already have-”

Fixer chuckles and tugs the bag from your hand, setting it back on the table, “I thought you might agree that it was a good idea.”

“You always have the best ideas,” You praise him with a broad grin, drawing an almost shy smile to his lips, “I love you.” You breath out, almost to yourself, though based on the way that his cheeks darken, you weren’t quiet enough. 

“Love you more,” Fixer replies, as he lightly cups your face with his hands, “Every,” He presses a kiss against your lips, “Single,” Another kiss, “Inch.” A third kiss.

And by that point your giggling and have your hands pressed over his, “Fixer-”

“Mm?”

“You can be such a sap sometimes.” You say through your giggles.

His eyes gleam with mischief, a look reserved for you and you alone, and his hands drop to your waist before he spins you away from the table and into the middle of the kitchen.

You squeal, and then dissolve into laughter as he sinks you into a dip, his arms secure around you. You never have to worry about falling when he’s around. 

“Fixer! I have to get back to the cookies!”

“What? I’m not allowed to dance with my perfect cyare?” He teases as he pulls you back up and catches your lips in a deep kiss.

“If,” You’re interrupted by a press of his lips against yours again, “the party, Fixer-” You mumble against his lips as he draws you even closer.

“We won’t be late.”

“But the cookies!”

“My rotten brothers don’t deserve your cookies,” He counters as he twirls  you in his arms, and then draws you back against him.

“But then we’ll be the only ones not bringing something-” You point out, gasping when he interrupts your statement with another heated press of his lips against yours.

“They get the pleasure of your company.” Fixer corrects with a grin.

“You’re impossible.” You say with a sigh.

“True.” He doesn’t sound the least bit apologetic about it either.

So you giggle and stand on your toes to kiss him gently, “Will you help me finish the cookies?”

His smile is warm and adoring, “Anything you want, cyare.”

[vodika-vibes]

Magic and Knights AU

The Sphinx's Riddle

Summary: You are a sphinx, a member of a desert dwelling people who guard the temple to the Goddess. At least, that's what you're supposed to do. There have been no heroes to visit the Goddess in centuries, and you, a Sphinx who is just a little too good at seeing through illusions, learn the sickening truth about the Patron who your people have served for generations...and now you're his prisoner, deep within the temple.

Pairing: Pre-Fixer x F!Reader

Word Count: 7447

Warnings: The Patron is described as a half rotting corpse. Reader is an anxious mess

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Wow, this took forever for me to finish, but I also wrote, like, 30 some odd pages since 5 pm yesterday, so I guess I just needed inspiration, lol.

You sniffle and curl your arms around your legs. It’s cold, so very cold. You must be deep beneath the temple for it to be so cold. You tug the thin blanket your mother gave you tighter over your shoulders, and it does almost nothing to ward off the cold. 

You don’t understand how this happened. 

A chain rattles down the hall, and you wince and bury your face into your arms. You hear the chains rattle down the hall and feel, more than see, someone peering into your cell.

“Are you ready to beg for forgiveness, child?” A voice, soft and silky and smooth, slithers through the room and you clamp your hands over your ears on the top of your head, and you can feel your tail twitching with anxiety under your blanket. You don’t want to hear this. Don’t want to hear him. But his voice cuts like a hot knife through butter, “Not yet ready to beg for my mercy, child?”

The cell door creaks open, and you tremble when you feel a hand, cold and almost skeletal, run through your cropped hair.

“Have I not treated you and the rest of your people well?” Your hands tighten over your ears, pressing them flat against the top of your head, “Have you not thrived while under my watchful eye? Have I not gifted you all with great beauty and great intelligence? And I all ask in return is your undying fealty…and you deny me that one small thing?”

The hand fists in your hair and jerks your head up and back, and you squeeze your eyes shut, to avoid looking into the flaming eyes of the man your people have served for thousands of years. 

Though there’s no hiding from the stench of rotting flesh.

“Look at me, child.”

You, stubbornly, refuse to open your eyes. And a heavy sigh escapes from your captor, the scent of rotting meat washes over you. The scent is strong enough that you gag.

And he finally releases you, and steps away, heavy chains dragging along the stone floor.

“You disappoint me, child.” And he sounds so, very, disappointed. Your heart lurches in your chest, but you very pointedly don’t look at him, or speak to him.

You know, in the same way that you know the sun will rise every morning, that if you give him the chance, he will slither his way into your psyche, like the viper he is, and you will no longer see him for the monster he is.

You hear a deep inhale, and the chains move closer again. You take a chance to open your eyes, and you see his feet, swollen and purple and putrid-

You slam your eyes shut. Just in time as his hand fists in your hair and you’re jerked, roughly, to your feet. “If you will not obey,” He says, “Then you will be punished.”

And then you feel something strange against your cheek. Warm and slightly rough and slimy-

A choked off scream or revulsion slips from you when you realize that it’s his tongue sliding across your face.

Panic wars with sheer terror, and your mind both goes blank and starts racing a million miles per hour.

And then you reach inward, towards that warm golden glow that belongs to you and no one else. You grab the glow with both hands and hold it close, drawing comfort from the natural magic of your people. 

You let the glow grow and fill you, from the bottoms of your broken feet to the tips of your roughly cropped hair, and you lash out with one strong burst of magic.

The room fills with the golden glow of the midday sun, and you hear a vicious scream of pain, before you’re flung against the hard wall, and you slide to the ground.

You hear the cell door open, and then slam shut, and then you release a shuddering sob as soon as you’re alone. You quickly clamp your hand over your mouth, refusing to give that thing any more power over you than he already had.

You are going to die here.

There’s no one to save you.

You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been in this dungeon.

There are no windows, and He comes down to visit you at such random times, that there’s no way to keep track.

You know it’s been more than a week. Perhaps more than two at this point. You’re still getting fed, though it’s 50-50 on whether the food is edible. Everything he brings you is rotten to the point that it’s inedible. It’s something that happened to food in his presence.

Though, sometimes, a member of the family brings you food instead. The meals are simple, soups and breads and water, but it’s enough that you’re not in danger of dying.

But it’s not enough for you to keep your strength up. Which, you suppose, is the point. The weaker you are, the more likely you are to give in.

You roll onto your side, your back towards the cell door, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you curl your hand around your tail, a nervous habit that you thought you grew out of ages ago…but apparently not. You’re so exhausted that it’s a wonder that you haven’t passed out yet.

You tense when you hear the familiar sound of chains dragging on the stone floor. The noise stops in front of your cell, but the door doesn’t open. Instead the cell across from yours creaks open, and you hear the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, and then the door slams shut.

The sound of chains drags away until the dungeon is silent once more.

You roll onto your other side and slowly crawl over to the door. You peek through the bars at the bottom of the door and you try to squint into the other cell.

It’s no use, the dungeon is too dark. You can barely see your own cell, let alone into the one opposite of yours.

You hesitate for a moment, and once you’re sure that you’re alone, you hold your hand out and summon a spark of your magic. The spark floats from your hand, across the hall, and into the other cell. It offers enough light to see a young man, maybe around your age, with dark hair. 

“Hey,” Your voice is soft. He doesn’t respond, “Hey!” You repeat a little louder, “Are you still alive?”

There’s silence for a moment, and then you hear a groan, and the young man moves, “Stop yelling.”

“Oh, thank the goddess,” You breathe out, you shift a little closer to the bars, and squint at the man, “W-what’s your name?”

He groans again, and you watch as he rolls over and peers at you through the bars of his own door. He’s bleeding from a wound on his temple. “Fixer, what’s yours?” You hesitate for a moment, and then introduce yourself, and he nods once, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m going to remember that.” He admits as he presses his hand to his head and grimaces.

“It’s okay, you have a head wound. It looks like someone hit you with something heavy. You’re lucky you’re not dead.” 

He grimaces, “You aren’t wrong about that,” Fixer touches the wound on his head and then drops his hand, “Where are we, sarad?”

“You’re in the old shrine,” You explain quietly, “We’re…we’re pretty deep underground.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I…don’t know. He keeps trying to get me to serve him again, but I can’t…” You hesitate, “Fixer, listen to me. When he comes, you can’t look at him. You can’t meet his eyes. That’s how he exerts his control over people.”

Fixer stares at you for a moment, and then he nods slowly, “Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

You release a quiet sigh of relief, “How did he even catch you? You look…well, you look like you can hold your own.”

Fixer grimaces and presses a hand to his temple, “I wasn’t expecting to be attacked. This area is so far away from the front lines-”

“Front lines?” You ask.

Fixer stares at you for a moment, “Mandalore is at war with Serrano.” He explains slowly.

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You reply quietly.

“I can tell.” He stares at you for a long moment, “Is there a way out?”

“Of the cells or the temple?” You ask.

“Both.”

“I haven’t found a way out of the cells, but I also wouldn’t know what to look for.” You reply after considering his question carefully, “But the temple has many exits. Just most of them are sealed with magic.”

Fixer frowns, and then you see his gaze flicker to the small orb of light, and then back to you, “Magic like yours?”

“Supposedly. The lower levels of the temple haven’t been regularly visited in…” You shake your head, “I don’t know how long. Before I was born.”

“But,” Fixer says intensely as he stares you in the eye, “If I can get us out of the cells, can you navigate the lower levels of the temple safely?”

“I can try.”

He nods and opens his mouth to say something, only to pause when the sound of chains rattling down the stairs echoes off the stone walls. 

You immediately douse the golden light, and scramble to the back of your cell, screwing your eyes shut and turning your head away from the door as the noise gets closer and closer.

He stops in front of your cell, and the door rattles open.

Your breath quickens in fear as the sound of chains gets closer and closer, until you’re able to hear the sickening squelching sound of him approaching you. 

And then he stops. And, for a moment, you hear nothing but the deep rattle of his breath and you can only smell rotting flesh, and then a skeletal hand lands on the top of your head, and you cringe away from him, or your try to, he’s quick to fist his hand in your hair.

“My dearest daughter,” He coos, and you slap your hands over your ears. His voice hurts, and you don’t want to hear him. “Have you met the sacrifice? I’m sure you have. Your sisters and cousins have been so good to bring me such a fine specimen. And as I was thinking about it, I came up with a wonderful idea-”

He pauses, as if waiting for you to respond, and when you don’t he shakes you violently enough that the back of your head cracks against the wall, pulling a pained cry from your throat.

“My idea, my dear, is that you’ll be the one doing the sacrificing. Aren’t I such a kind and devoted patron?”

You don’t reply, there’s no point. You can’t convince him that he’s wrong, anymore than you could convince your family, so you just shake your head. 

He sighs, and you gag as the scent of rotting flesh grows stronger.

He grabs you and flings you into a wall, pulling a second cry of pain from your lips, and then you hear the sound of him moving away from you, “Unfortunate, but it won’t be the first time I have to sacrifice one of my sphinxes.” He says loud enough to be heard over the sound of rattling chains. And then he’s gone, the sound of the chains fading away to silence.

You clamp your hand over your mouth to muffle your sob, you don’t want to die, not to him. Not to make him stronger-

And then you jump as the cell across the hall creaks open. You turn to your cell door, and watch, stunned, as Fixer picks the lock, and slides the door open. He looks…furious. Furious enough that you cringe back away from him.

Fixer’s expression gentles, and he enters your cell and he kneels in front of you. “Are you okay?” He asks.

You slowly nod, wincing as the movement shoots pain through your head. “I’ve had worse.” You admit.

Fixer’s gaze flickers down to your bare feet, which are badly bruised, and then to your tail, which has bald spots from stress, “I don’t doubt it.” He agrees, and then he helps you to your feet, “It’s time to go, sarad. How do we get out of here without crossing that…thing?”

“We have to go deeper.” You explain, pointing further down the hallway. “It’s going to get cold.”

“That’s fine. We’ll go slow, and stick together.” Fixer pins you with a severe look, “If you can’t keep up, you need to let me know.”

“I’ll keep up!” You say quickly, “Please don’t leave me behind-”

Fixer’s touch against your shoulder is so very gentle that you kind of want to cry, when was the last time someone was kind to you? “I’m not going to leave you behind, sarad. I just need to know if I need to slow down for you.”

You nervously lick your lips, and you wince when you taste blood, “I can keep up.” You whisper.

“Don’t push yourself if you can’t. I’m not leaving you behind. I’ll remind you as often as I need to.” Fixer says, and then he lightly tugs you out of your cell and he casts his gaze around, “You said we need to go deeper.”

“Yeah. There’s…or, well, there should be a path that I can open.”

“Should be?”

You shrink under his gaze, and avert your eyes, “Um…”

“It’s fine. We’ll figure it out as we go.” Fixer offers you his hand, “Come on.”

Nervously you take his hand, and Fixer gently propels you down the hall, into the dark.

It takes less than ten minutes for him to stop, a curse falling from his lips, “What’s wrong?” You ask.

“I can’t see,” Fixer says, “It’s black as pitch down this hall.”

You blink at him, and then turn to the hall yourself. It’s…not that dark. Sure, it’s not as bright as it might be outside, but you can see clearly enough. Hesitantly you squeeze his hand and tug him down the hall.

“...you can still see?” Fixer asks, and you can feel his stare on the back of your head without looking over your shoulder at him. “Right. Sphinx.”

“Um, it shouldn’t be far. The tunnels underneath the shrine are probably well lit.” You reply nervously as you lead him through the darkened halls, casting your gaze across the floor and walls as you walk. 

According to the stories, the passage will be marked with a symbol only visible to a sphinx’s eyes. You hope the stories were accurate. Or else this is going to be a very short escape attempt.

You turn to check on Fixer, who’s been very quiet since you’ve started leading him, and…there!

Your head snaps to the side, when you catch a glimpse of something golden glittering on the wall, and you slow to a stop. “I found it.” You tug him over to the wall, and reach up to touch the sigil, your own magic flowing to the surface of your skin as you touch it.

The magic is old. Ancient even. Old enough that it barely recognizes you as a sphinx, and for one heart stopping moment, you worry that the magic is going to reject you, and then there’s the sensation of sunlight against your skin, and a part of the wall melts away into nothing.

You very nearly topple into the opening, and if it wasn’t for Fixer’s strong arm suddenly around your waist holding you steady, you would have.

“Is that the opening?” He asks, his voice low in your ear.

You nod, and then, remembering that he can’t see, you hasten to add, “Yeah. Um, there’s some kind of magic…I can’t see through it.”

“Does it feel dangerous to you?”

Your tail and ears twitch as you consider his question and the feel of the magic in front of you, “It feels like it could be, under the right circumstances.” You finally reply as he releases you and settles a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright. Then we continue.” Fixer says.

“Are…are you sure? I don’t think it will hurt me no matter what, but-”

His grip tightens on your shoulder, “The death we choose is better than any death that this god might give us, sarad. We need to continue. No matter what.”

“...okay.” You lightly take his hand again, and then you take a deep breath and step into the shadow, squeezing your eyes shut as you do so.

Stepping through the shadow feels like walking through cobwebs, and you have to fight the urge to release Fixer’s hand to wipe the sensation off of your face and bare arms. But the sensation dissipates just as quickly as it appeared, and as you open your eyes you’re relieved to see that your prediction about light was correct.

You turn to look at Fixer, and notice that he’s watching the wall slide back into place. “Looks like there’s no way back,” He murmurs, before he glances at you, “And it looks like the only way forward is down.”

“I did warn you,” You say nervously.

He smiles reassuringly, “I know, I’m not mad. I’m actually relieved that you were right.”

“...you are?”

“It means that the stories you were told were right.” He looks around a moment longer, and then he steps off the platform and onto the first step, “So, sarad, what else did your family tell you?”

Fixer’s not sure what to think of Sarad. He knows it’s not her name, but he can’t, for the life of him, remember what her actual name is. It’s frustrating to the point of maddening, honestly, but he can’t think about that now.

Not when the young woman trailing behind him is so nervous and jumpy about absolutely everything.

Not when there’s a literal god hunting them.

She’s thin. Too thin. He has a feeling that she’s been in that cell for a lot longer than she’s even considered. The fur on her tail is patchy, and he can’t help but wonder if she realizes that she’s pulling her own fur out. 

He frowns and reaches back to stop her from pulling some more of her fur out, carefully taking her hand in his as they continue down the stairs. “So, Sarad, what else did your family tell you?” Fixer asks.

You frown and tug on one of your ears, and Fixer sighs, he doesn’t have enough hands to stop her from pulling on her ears when she’s nervous, and she’s always nervous. “Grandmother used to tell a story,” Sarad says slowly, “About how, a long time ago, heroes would come to the shrine to ask for a boon from the Goddess-”

“Wait. Goddess?” Fixer asks, “The person holding us was definitely male.”

She nods, “Grandmother says that the Goddess lives in the realm of the divine, and that the man who the sphinx people serve is her most loyal servant. Though I’m pretty sure that’s not accurate.”

“Clearly,” Fixer replies dryly as he reaches up to stop her from tugging on her ear, “Continue.”

“Um, right. Well, heroes would come to the shrine to ask a boon from the Goddess, and they would have to go through her trials. We, the sphinx people, were the guardians of the trials. It was our job to determine if a hero could enter the trials or not.”

“And what were the trials?” Fixer asks, a feeling of dread filling him.

“Um…I don’t know.” She admits nervously, “There haven’t been any heroes trying to enter the shrine in generations. Sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize for not knowing. It’s not your fault.” Fixer replies. “Things get lost to history all the time. It just means we have to be careful.”

“You.” She says, and he shoots her a puzzled look, “You have to be careful.”

Fixer slows to a stop and he turns to look Sarad in the eye, “What, exactly, do you mean?”

“Uhm, well,” She tries to grip her tail again, but Fixer swiftly grabs both of her hands and threads his fingers with hers so she’s not able to pull her fur out, “Well…the trials are meant for heroes, and the Sphinx people were guides,” She says quickly while staring at the joined hands in puzzlement, “The trials won’t…er…shouldn’t activate for me.”

“But they will for me.”

“Supposedly.”

Fixer considers her words for a moment, and then he nods slowly, “Good.” He says decisively, “You’re injured. More injured than I am, and more injured than you want to admit.”

She ducks her head, “It’s not so bad.”

“Sarad,” He says softly, gently, “Did you even notice that you’ve been pulling out your fur?”

Her gaze snaps to his face and then drops to her tail, and her face falls, “I…no…I did that?”

“You’ve been in that cell for a lot longer than I think either of us will ever know,” Fixer continues, his voice still so soft, “So I’m going to take care of you. And when we get out of here, I’m taking you with me.”

Sarad blinks at him, “What about my people?”

“I’m going to be really mean for a moment and tell you that I don’t care about your people.” Fixer says bluntly, “I care about you. And getting you, specifically, to safety.”

“It’s not their fault! They’re just…they’re brainwashed-”

“Does that make it better?” Fixer interrupts, “What they did to you? What they allowed to be done to you?” She hesitates for a moment, and Fixer continues, “Would you be able to live with them, with the memory of everything that happened to you still living in your head?”

“I…” She trails off, unable to answer, which is an answer in and of itself.

“Will you let me take care of you, Sarad?” Fixer asks, “Will you let me help you? Someday we’ll come back, and we’ll set things right, but we can’t do that with just two people.”

She gnaws on her lower lip for a moment, and then she nods. “I can agree to that.”

Fixer relaxes slightly and a small smile crosses his face, “Thank you.” He reaches out and lightly smooths his hand over her knotted hair, and is surprised when he hears a noise that can only be a purr.

She flushes, mortified, and Fixer releases a laugh as he pets the top of her head a little longer, “How long has it been since someone touched you without the intention to hurt you, sarad?”

“I don’t remember.” She whispers, and then she ducks her head, “Can we keep moving, please?”

He flashes a small grin at her, and then pulls his hand away, only to reach down and take her hand in his once again, “Stay close, Sarad.”

The staircase is massive. And, luckily, it’s not too steep and the stone isn’t too rough on your bare feet, but you’re still grateful that Fixer seems to know when you’re not able to walk any further. In fact, he seems to know when you’re unable to go any further before you are.

At the moment, your arms are around his neck while he continues carrying you down the steps.

“Ah,” Fixer says with a relieved sigh, as he stops and lightly sets you back on your feet. You can see, right away, what caught his attention. An open room, decorated in whites and golds, and a large door on the opposite side of the room. “The first trial, I take it?” Fixer asks you.

You glance at him and shrug, “That would be my guess.”

“Right.” Fixer closes his eyes in thought, “Okay, stay close to me, Sarad. And stay behind me, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You nod and wrap your hands around his upper arm, and then release him again when he shoots you a look, and you sheepishly grab the back of his shirt, “Sorry. I’m a little nervous.”

“It’s okay.” He gives you a moment, “Are you ready?”

“I…I think so.”

Fixer nods once, and starts down the stairs, slowly so as to not rush you, and as soon as the both of you are in the large room, the stairs completely vanish, pulling a startled squeak from you as you press against his back, “It’s okay, sarad. It’s okay. It’s just a little magic. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You cling to him for a moment longer, and then slowly release him, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Fixer looks you over for a moment, “We need to take a break, as soon as we can. A proper night's sleep will help you feel better.”

There’s a sudden swell of magic, and you instinctively lay your ears flat against your head, “Fixer-”

“I know, stay behind me.” He says, his gaze darting around the room.

WELCOME HERO

A voice, loud enough that you have to clamp your hands over your ears to make it a little more tolerable, echoes through the room. 

WELCOME TO THE GODDESS’ TRIALS

The booming voice continues.

WHAT IS IT THAT YOU SEEK, HERO

“A way out,” Fixer says as he makes sure that you’re still behind him, “All I want is a way out. For both of us.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then, again, the booming voice returns.

WHAT IS IT THAT YOU SEEK, HERO

“I-”

“You have to give an answer,” You whisper, “It’s a spell, designed to activate the trial. Only after you give it an answer. You have to answer in the form of, ‘I seek-’.”

Fixer glances at you, and then frowns, “Seems a bit…convoluted. But fine. I seek,” He emphasizes, “an escape from the temple, for myself and my companion.”

Nothing happens for a moment, and Fixer frowns. Your ears twitch as you search for any sound of movement anywhere in the room, but there’s nothing. 

YOU SEEK SAFETY FOR YOURSELF AND ONE OTHER. CONTINUE TO THE TRIAL.

A wall slides open on the other side of the room, and Fixer grimaces. “I thought you said that you weren’t going to be involved in the trials?” He asks.

“I think…I think it’s because you mentioned me.” You offer hesitantly, not really sure yourself.

“Damn. Sorry, Sarad.” He mutters, “Come on. Let’s get this over with.” And then he pauses, “Wait, what kind of trials are there?”

“All sorts. There are puzzles and combat and combat puzzles-” You reply nervously.

Fixer grimaces, “Alright. I guess we’ll be going blind from here.” He leads you to the opening in the wall, and as soon as the both of you are on the other side, the wall slides shut again.

“No backtracking allowed,” You whisper as you lightly grip his arm.

“We probably should have guessed that.” He murmurs back to you as he leads you down the stairs.

It’s a much shorter staircase this time, and the room that the pair of you come to is massive, though the only thing in the room is a massive statue. The statue looked like it should have been a woman cloaked in cloth, but the statue has been ruined over the years.

“Who’s that supposed to be?” Fixer asks.

“I think it’s meant to be an aspect of the Goddess,” You reply, “There…there aren’t any depictions of her anymore. They’ve all been destroyed by time.”

“By time? Or by the creature who’s calling himself the Sphinxes Patron?”

“I don’t know. Either one is possible.”

“Hm,” Fixer motions for you to stay near the staircase as he slowly walks around the room, looking for a possible exit, “Hey, Sarad?”

“Yeah?”

“When did heroes stop coming to the temple?”

“Oh, uh…” You tug on some of your hair as you try to remember, “It’s been centuries, if I remember correctly. The stories all say that it’s because there aren’t any more heroes.”

“Hm…does that sound right to you?” Fixer asks.

You’re quiet for a long moment, “I think…” You trail off, and then you fold your arms, “I think the heroes stopped coming here because they were all dying. I think they were sacrificed, just like you were going to be.”

“I think you’re probably right,” Fixer agrees, “All the more reason for us to get out. Unfortunately, I don’t see anything that could be an exit, or a puzzle.”

You move further into the room, and the staircase vanishes as soon as you’re far enough away. You make your way over to Fixer, though you keep your gaze locked on the statue. “I think it has something to do with the statue.”

His gaze drifts to the statue, “That tracks,” Fixer moves over to the statue and carefully runs his fingers over the base, “No-there’s nothing…ah, wait.” He pauses and crouches on the side, “There’s something here-”

Fixer examines the item he found closely, and he frowns, “I think it’s a pressure plate. There’s a symbol carved on it.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then he frowns, “Come here, Sarad. I’m not activating this unless you’re next to me.”

You cross the room, back to his side, and lightly curl your fingers around the back of his shirt. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Fixer presses the plate, and there’s a sudden surge of warmth. Magic coils around the pair of you, and suddenly you find yourself on the other side of the room. And the floor is covered in tiles with different symbols etched on them.

And on the other side of the room, a wall opens.

“That’s our way out, I take it.” Fixer says, as his gaze lingers on the tiles on the floor, “What do you think?”

You open your mouth to say something, but the words die in your throat.

“Sarad?” He turns to look at you, and then he pauses, “What’s that?”

You shoot him a puzzled look. Fixer stands and slowly reaches out to you, his fingers brushing against your neck.

“There’s…some kind of magic wrapped around your neck.” Fixer says slowly, “It encircles your entire neck.” He frowns, “Are you able to speak?”

You open your mouth to say something, but the words die in your throat again, and your ears flatten against your head.

“I guess not.” He murmurs, “Good thing you’re so expressive.” He frowns at the magic collar thoughtfully, “I guess this is to keep us from cheating? Even if you know the answer, you can’t tell me because the collar prevents you?”

He lightly squeezes your shoulder, “It’s okay, Sarad.” Fixer says soothingly when he sees your distress, “I don’t need help with the puzzles, you don’t have to worry. Stay here. I think the room will reset to normal once I’m at the other side.”

He squeezes your shoulder one more time, and then releases you to turn his attention towards the panels on the floor.

Fixer examines each panel closely, and then after several minutes of this, he steps on one of the panels, and slowly, carefully, makes his way across the room.

Each floor panel he steps on lights up in a warm golden color, and as he makes his way across the room, you feel your anxiety lessen. Fixer doesn’t move onto the next panel unless he’s sure that it’s the right one, and though it takes time, eventually he finds his way to the other side of the room, and he presses his hand against a glowing sigil on the wall. 

There’s a blinding flash of light, and, as you blink the spots out of your eyes, you notice that the room has returned back to its original state, save for the open wall on the other side of the room.

“Come on, Sarad,” Fixer says as he turns his gaze towards you, “We can move on now.” He doesn’t move from his spot next to the wall until you’re safely at his side, and he immediately taps your chin to tilt your head back to get a look at your neck, “The collar is gone.” He says, sounding relieved.

“Oh, that’s good.” You say, just as relieved that there’s no longer something forcing you to stay silent. You lightly wrap your hands around his arm, and gently, he tugs you through the opening in the wall.

The wall shuts behind you, and for a moment there’s no light, before torches flare to life. This room is much smaller than the previous room you were in, and there’s nothing in the room at all. Save, of course, for the door that leads to another set of staircases.

Fixer rubs his cheek for a moment, casting his gaze around the room. And then he gently untangles his arm from your grip, and he pokes around the room. “Well, this place seems safe enough.” He says after several minutes of very thorough investigation, “And it’s warm enough in here that we won’t freeze. We should take a break here.”

“You don’t want to keep going?” You ask.

“I don’t think you’re able to keep going.” Fixer corrects. He leans against the wall and slides to the ground with a quiet groan, “Come here, Sarad. You need a break more than I do.”

“...sorry.” You whisper, even as you slide to the floor next to him.

“You don’t have to apologize. Not to me. Not about this.” Fixer considers you for a moment, and then he, very gently, tugs you onto his lap, and guides your head to rest just under his chin. “There, now you don’t have to sleep on the stone.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me, Sarad. I’m going to be just fine.” He smooths his hand down your back, and slowly, you drift off to sleep with your fingers curled against his shirt.

Fixer keeps his gaze on Sarad’s face until he’s sure that she’s asleep, and then he releases a quiet breath. Carefully, as to not wake her, he checks her over for any serious injuries, and he releases a sigh of relief when he sees that, aside from being too thin and being covered in bruises, she doesn’t have any serious injuries.

Not that it would matter if she did, it’s not as though he has a first aid kit on him. Fixer adjusts her so that he’s a little more comfortable with her on his lap, and then he reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out the only item that wasn’t taken from him, his comm.

No video or audio, but he is able to send a text message to his brothers. 

Fixer, reporting in.

Where the hell have you been? We’ve been trying to reach you for days! Scorch replies, almost immediately.

The boys were right, there is something weird happening out here in the desert. Fixer replies, I got caught, I’m in the process of making my escape as we speak, but it’s a little…complicated.

In what way? Boss asks.

Well, I’m not alone, for one. Fixer glances down at Sarad, and adjusts the comm so that there’s no light shining on her face, For another, I have to perform trials to get out of this place.

The person with you, are they a threat? Sev asks.

No. She was being held by the same person who was holding me…and he’s been holding her for a lot longer. She’s been starved-

You were only supposed to find out what was going on in the desert, Fixer. Not get involved. Boss chides.

He was going to kill her. I couldn’t just leave her anymore than you could have.

I suppose that’s fair. What’s the play then? Boss asks.

I have to get out and get her to safety before anything else. But…there’s some kind of living corpse that’s controlling the Sphinx people. I doubt we’re going to be able to handle it alone. Fixer admits grudgingly, only to pause when Sarad shivers and tries to press herself closer to him for warmth. He sighs and wraps his arm securely around her, and only looks back at his comm when he’s sure she’s not going to wake up. I don’t believe the Sphinx people would be a threat if they knew what they were serving, but this creature has them totally ensnared.

Understood. I’ll inform Alpha. Boss sends back. Odds are we’re going to have to wait until the Serrano thing is handled before we try and deal with this situation. Do you need support?

No. But I’ll let you know if that changes.

Understood. Good luck, vod. Boss replies, and then the comm disconnects, and Fixer slips his comm back into his pocket.

For a moment, he allows his head to bump back against the stone behind him, and then he looks down at Sarad. He’s not going to be able to sleep, and since she can’t help with the puzzles anyway-

Very carefully, Fixer adjusts the way his arms are around her, and slowly he gets to his feet. His sarad doesn’t even stir. Now much more sure of his actions, Fixer turns to the stairs and carefully continues his path through the temple. 

Hopefully his Sarad won’t be too upset about letting her sleep.

You stir awake after the best sleep you’ve had in a very, very long time. And the first thing you’re aware of is the fact that you’re moving. You blink up at Fixer, who is now nursing a series of bruises on his face, and you shift slightly.

Fixer glances down at you, and a small smile crosses his face, “Good morning,” He stops moving and carefully sets you on your feet, steadying you as you stretch out.

And then you take in your surroundings.

You’re no longer in the white and gold marble of the upper temple, but rather you’re in the deepest parts. The stone under your feet is cool to the touch, and the only light comes from the blue crystals hanging overhead.

You turn a puzzled look up to Fixer, who, at least, has the grace to look a little sheepish. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to keep going while you were sleeping.”

You feel a flash of guilt, “You should have woken me-”

“No need. You were tired, and you can’t take part in the trials anyway.” Fixer points out, “I’ve already gone through three more trials while you were asleep.”

You stare at him, stunned, “You did?”

“Yeah. One of them was a combat trial, which has been the hardest so far since I didn’t have a weapon.” Fixer admits, “But I managed.” He lightly takes your hand in his. “Come on, let’s get to this last trial.”

“Um, okay.”

You allow him to lead you down the stairs, and you press closer to him as you start to get more and more nervous. “What’s wrong, sarad?” Fixer asks.

“I dunno…my fur is standing on end, and I feel scared.” You admit.

He stops and lightly presses his hands against your cheeks, “Hey. There’s no reason to be afraid. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. We’re going to get out of this.”

“But, what if-”

“I promise.” Fixer interrupts, “I promise that you’re going to be okay. Just trust me.”

Slowly you nod, “Okay.”

His smile is gentle for a moment as he lightly strokes your cheek, and then he releases you and takes your hand in his, offering what comfort he can as he leads you deeper and deeper into the temple.

At last you come to a massive room, with beautiful pillars carved out of crystal, and blue flames lighting the room. And there, in the center, is a frail looking old woman sitting on a throne.

Like you, she has rounded ears on the top of her head, and a long tail with a tuft of fur at the end. And as the pair of you approach her, she opens her eyes and pins you both with her sightless gaze.

She sighs, and it’s sounds like wind across the dune sea, “How long has it been,” the woman murmurs, her voice like sand, “Since anyone has visited me?” 

“Do you know her, sarad?” Fixer asks, his voice soft.

You shake your head slowly, “No. But…she feels familiar. Like a memory…or a dream of a memory.”

The woman pins you in place with a stare, and it’s almost as if she’s looking through you. You flinch and try to duck behind Fixer, but find that you’re unable to move. 

And then the woman laughs, “My daughters have tried so hard to forget my name and my face, but even now, one of my youngest knows me.”

“Sarad-?”

“I think…I think she’s the Goddess.”

“Indeed I am,” The woman flashes a fang filled smile, “And you are the first visitors I’ve received in centuries. So tell me, hero, what is your wish? Money? Power? Fame?”

“None of that.” Fixer says, as he tugs you behind him, “All I want is a way to get the both of us to safety.”

The old woman tilts her head, “That’s all?”

“That creature was going to sacrifice her-”

“...us,” You correct softly.

“Right, us, to make himself more powerful. We’re not safe here.” Fixer says, “All I want is to get ourselves to safety.”

The woman is silent for a long moment, and then she sighs, “My daughters have lost their way. If I can save at least one, then all will be worth it.” She gazes at Fixer, “I will grant you your wish, on one condition.”

“What condition?” Fixer demands.

“You protect my daughter.”

He scoffs, “I’m going to do that anyway, with or without your condition.”

And she smiles. “Good.” She closes her eyes, and there’s a swell of magic, “Goodbye, son of man. Live well, daughter of the sands.”

There’s a blinding flash of light, and the sensation of sand swirling around you, and then a sudden weightlessness. 

Solid ground appears under your feet, and you stumble, and the only reason you don’t fall is because of the strong arms wrapped tightly around you. 

“Fixer?!” A man, identical to Fixer, hurries over. “You…what…how?”

“Boss,” Fixer makes sure that you’re steady, and then you immediately duck behind him, “It appears that we’ve escaped.”

“No kidding!” Another man, this one clad in yellow armor sputters as he hurries over, “I…who’s this?”

You squeak when his gaze lands on you, and you hide behind Fixer, “You’re scaring her, Scorch.” Fixer chides, “She needs medical attention, and so do I probably, and then I’ll tell you everything.”

“No, hold on…does she have lion ears?” Scorch asks as he tries to peek around Fixer to get a good look at you.

“Scorch! Enough!” Boss orders, “Go ahead and get to the hospital, Fixer. Sev should be around here somewhere…kind of glad he’s not here to scare her even more, though.” He mutters.

“Come on, sarad. There’s no need to be afraid, my brothers aren’t going to hurt you.” Fixer says as he turns to look at you and offers you his hand, “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you.”

Hesitantly you take his hand.

After all, Fixer has never lied to you before.

Six months later, you’re largely healed, though you’re still much thinner than anyone would prefer, yourself included. You release a rumbling purr as you stretch out in the sun, your tail flicking lazily as you soak up the sun’s rays.

“Sarad,” you crack open an eye to look up at Fixer, who’s watching  you with a fond smile on his face, “We’re moving on. We have a new mission.” You yawn widely and then roll over onto your feet.

“Where are we going?” You ask, and then you pout as Fixer pulls a wool cap over your head.

“Serrano.”

“I’m going to turn into a Sphinxcicle.” You whine, “I’m not made for snowy weather.”

“Good thing that we made sure to get you winter weather gear.” Fixer teases, “Come on, Sarad. You know I’ll always take care of you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He leans in and presses a light kiss against your temple, “Good. Now we need to hurry, or Boss is going to send Sev after us.” Fixer offers you his hand with a small smile, and you grin as you take it.

This isn’t how you expected your life to end up. You expected to die in that desert, unmourned and forgotten. And yet, here you are, surrounded by people who love and worry about you. 

And you’ve never been happier.

[vodika-vibes]

Im on my period rn and I have endometriosis so I’m in a lot of pain and I was wondering how Fixer would take care of a reader with severe period pains…I have severe Fixer brainrot…

However if you‘re not comfortable writing something like this I apologize 🙈

Painful Days

Summary: Fixer takes care of you when you're paralyzed with pain.

Pairing: Clone Commando Fixer x Reader

Word Count: 619

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Sorry that this is so short. I get migraines when I'm on my period so I legitimately don't know how people take care of normal periods. I don't like it when people breathe near me when I'm on mine, lol.

You exhale slowly, trying to breathe through the pain of your cramps, as you curl up on your couch.

You’re going to be fine. You always are. But sometimes the pain is harder to ignore than other times. 

And by that, you mean that you can sometimes work through the pain. This, unfortunately, isn’t one of those times.

A particularly sharp stab of pain causes you to grit your teeth and curl around your heating pad. This was supposed to help. The fact that it never has before isn’t important, it’s supposed to work this time.

“The pain medicine hasn’t kicked in yet?” Fixer asks as he smooths his hand through your hair.

“Sure it has.” You say through clenched teeth, “I no longer feel like using a knife to cut out my uterus. That’s a step up.”

Fixer doesn’t say anything for a moment, “Does curling up like that actually help?” He finally asks.

You pout at him, “It does in my head.”

“So that would be no, then.”

“If you’re not going to be helpful-” You say with a glare.

“Ah, I brought a bar of chocolate. As well as some hot tea. But you have to sit up before I give either to you.”

You consider his offerings for a moment, and then decide that they are acceptable gifts, so you slowly sit up. Fixer flashes a small smile at you, and  you feel a surge of affection for him, “Will you sit with me?” You ask.

“As if you have to ask.” Fixer replies as he sets your favorite mug on the table, and then drops on the couch next to you.

You immediately climb into his lap and set your head under his chin, pulling his arms around your lower stomach to hold your heating pad in place.

“Better?” Fixer asks, as he adjusts you slightly so that you’re more comfortably situated on his lap.

You consider everything for a moment, “I’m not worse,” You finally decide, “Which is about the best I’m going to get, I think.”

Fixer reaches around you and grabs your mug to set it in your hands, “Well, it’s not perfect, but I’ll take it. We can order something salty and greasy for dinner tonight. I know that makes you feel better.”

“You hate salty and greasy.”

“There are a lot of things I hate that I’ll put up with because you want them.” Fixer replies easily, “You’re worth it, cyare.”

You smile up at him adoringly, “I love you, did you know that?” You ask.

“You’ve made it glaringly obvious, yes.” Fixer replies as he leans in and kisses the back of your head, “I love you too, you know. Why else would I put up with all of this?” There’s no heat in his voice, though, and you don’t take his words harshly.

You shift on his lap so you’re able to press a light kiss against his jaw, and you smile when he lowers his chin so he can kiss you properly. “You know,” He murmurs, “There is something that I can do to help with the cramps.”

You sigh softly, “Maybe later, when the pain is a little less.” You reply against his lips, “But it’ll be messy.”

“That’s what towels are for. Or just using the shower. Either is fine with me.” Fixer replies. 

You allow your head to thump against his shoulder, “I’ll think about it. When the pain is a little less. Thank you, Fixer.”

“You don’t have to thank me for taking care of you, cyare. That’s my job.” He kisses your temple, and tightens his grip around you. “Drink your tea, it’s going to get cold.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”