#thoughts of skylan

[wizardofrozz]

Above Coruscant (pt. 2)

Commander Fox x reader

Word Count: ~3.1k

Warnings: +18 MDNI, slight exhibitionism, hair pulling, unprotected PiV sex, outdoors sex, mentions of sexting, glove kink if you squint, the armor stays on, enjoy lol

A/N: If you haven't read part 1, this might not make a whole lot of sense but if you're just here for the filth, then you could probably skip the first part lmao. I'm not even sorry for the person I become when it comes to writing Fox 😈

Part 1

It was easy to forget how populated the city-planet was until you were hundreds of feet in the air, your speeder bike cutting through traffic lanes. Coruscant's air was slightly less polluted this high up, the smog hanging somewhere below your dangling feet, and you savored the fresh air. 

Well, as fresh as Coruscant could be. 

Your heart skipped when the familiar imposing shape of the Coruscant Guard's headquarters came into view. It had been about a week since your mission with a certain Marshal Commander, and to say you were excited to see him again was an understatement. Hells, you couldn't even think too hard about him without remembering how he tasted. 

That was something you knew now, and your treacherous brain made sure to remind you far too often. 

The soles of your boots had barely hit the duracrete outside the club when Fox’s com had started to chime, and even with the modified helmet on, you could see how he had deflated. You barely said goodbye before he took off, jogging to the nearest landing pad in time for a gunship to swoop down into view. At least he looked just as disappointed as you felt before the larty whisked him away. 

The details of his assignment were need-to-know - you knew better than to ask - but the first message that came through one evening helped. His messages were scattered and irregular, but he kept up the conversation throughout the week since you last saw him. Conversations ranged from innocent ‘how is your day?’ to messages that had you setting your datapad down and hoping no one noticed the wide-eyed look on your face as you shifted in your seat. 

Yeah, this visit was long overdue. 

Bringing your speeder closer to the surface, you merged into the skylane that would bring you around to the Guard’s headquarters, and your heartbeat skipped. Even in the middle of the day, the military police headquarters was intimidating. Red dots moved about near the front of the building in perfectly spaced lines, and if you didn't know any better, you'd automatically assume their superior was a dick. 

Well. He kind of was, but that was beside the point.

Cutting a sharp left, you slowed to a reasonable speed, deciding to avoid the spectacle it would be if you used the main entrance and headed for one of the landing pads near the back of the building you were more accustomed to using. Thankfully, the landing pad was empty and covered in shadows.

The brakes squealed as you brought the bike to a stop, and you flinched. Making a mental note to call your usual garage later, you shut the engine down, unaware of the shadow lingering in the doorway. The fumes weren't as heavy on the surface, but it was a noticeable difference, and you tried not to grimace as you climbed off the bike. Maybe one day you'd get used to it. 

Wrapped up in your random train of thought, you missed when the shape near the door moved closer, just enough to make the paint on his armor discernible. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you turn toward the building. Shock outweighed your joy for a few precious moments. 

"Stop hiding in the shadows like a creep," you huffed, thinking about tossing your riding goggles at his stupid head. The urge didn't go away when his armored shoulders shook faintly with silent laughter. 

“Wasn’t hiding,” Fox countered, pulling his helmet off to reveal the faint smirk on his face. Maker, how did it make you want to kiss him more?

“Hm, seemed like it to me,” you mumbled, tucking your goggles into the saddlebag beside your leg. You didn’t turn to look at him, mostly because you didn’t want him to see the smirk on your face but also because you were curious about what he’d do. Some of the messages he sent you the last few days were…detailed. “I think you were hoping to sneak up on me.” 

A low hum was Fox’s only response, and it took considerable effort to stop the gasp from tumbling past your lips when you realized he was close enough that you could lean back against his chest if you wanted. Gods above, you were on a landing pad where anyone could walk through the door, but apparently, Fox didn’t give a shit. Honestly, you didn’t either when he leaned down, his soft exhale brushing past your ear. 

“And if that was my plan? Then what?” 

He hadn’t even touched you yet, and it felt like you were going to disintegrate on the spot. Well, a week's worth of subtle and not-so-subtle teasing would do that, you supposed. 

“Then I’d hope you’d follow through with one of those ideas I’ve heard so much about,” you whispered, leaning back just enough to feel the brush of his chest plate against your shoulder blade. “My personal favorite was something about bending me over this bike.” 

This time, you did gasp when Fox pulled you against his chest, the harsh cut of his codpiece pressing against your ass. You couldn’t care about that, though, when he growled, and the sound sent a wave of heat pumping through your veins. You wanted to hear it again. 

“Oh, I will, cyar’ika, don’t worry,” Fox murmured, nudging the side of your face. His lips brushed your cheek as he spoke, and his grip on you slackened only for him to knead your hips gently. “But that’ll be for later.”

It took all your self-control not to bodily drag Fox onto the speeder and race back to your apartment. Then one of his hands started to drift down, his fingers teasing the top of your pants, and instead of pulling away, you leaned more of your weight into him, one of your hands drifting back to trace the outside of his thigh plate. 

“You’re done for the day, so what’s stopping you?” You felt his sigh before you heard it, and that alone had your hopes plummeting. 

“Senate called an emergency meeting. Either I’m stuck here until they’re done or switch places with Stone.” His wandering hand doesn’t stop, sending a chill racing across your skin when just the tips of his gloved fingers slip under the waistband of your pants. “Can’t leave just yet, but I’d still rather be here.”

At this point, you’d take whatever relief you could get. 

“You’re on call, then?” Laughter rumbled against your back, and you would’ve smiled, but the open-mouthed kiss just under your ear wiped any coherent thought from your mind. All you could think about was Fox’s mouth and his hand slipping further into your pants.

“Yeah, but pretty sure Thire isn’t gonna call me unless the galaxy’s on the verge of ceasing to exist.” 

Even though the situation wasn’t ideal, it was better than nothing. 

Fox’s eyes were bright even in the shadows of headquarters when you twisted your upper body around to see his face. 

“Good to know,” you whispered before pulling him into a heated kiss. The ghost of the first kiss you shared with Fox had been haunting you since it happened, but this time was different, hungrier. The bitterness of caf lingered on his tongue as it slid into your mouth, and you sighed, releasing the side of his thigh to grip his vambrace. 

The contact made his fingers twitch, the fabric of his gloves brushing over your sensitive skin just enough to force a pathetic sound past your lips. Every inch of your body was humming with need like you hadn’t experienced in a long time, if ever. You blamed it on the steamy messages that were finally becoming a reality and the pent-up frustration you’d been shoving down for nearly a year now. 

You blamed that when you tugged Fox’s arm, whining against his lips, “Please.” 

This close, you could feel the shudder that rippled through his body, and the hand still holding your hip tightened, keeping you in place. Your mouth dropped open, but no sound came out; every thought in your head was obliterated as Fox slid a finger through your soaked folds. 

When you finally opened your eyes, his face was out of focus. Intense was a good word to describe Fox at times, and right now, it was the only word you could think of to describe the look on his face as he slowly slid a finger into you. The fabric of his gloves wasn’t unpleasant, but you were almost positive that anything he did at this point would drive you wild. 

Fox drove you wild, plain and simple. 

The deliberate pump of his finger made your lids heavy, and you clenched around the digit when the muscle in his jaw fluttered. In this position, you couldn’t move well, your hips trapped in place by his iron grip, and any attempt to grind against his hand was pointless. Although, your attempts at finding more friction seemed to goad Fox into giving you what you wanted anyway. 

As he added a second finger, Fox’s eyes darted around your face like he was searing the visual of you like this into his mind. The soft, pleading whine of his name made his eyes darken, and his tongue poked out to wet his lips. Your eyes tracked the movement. 

“Fuck me,” you whispered, finding his eyes. 

“Right here?” Fox’s voice was rough, each word dragging over gravel as they passed his lips and your pussy clenched around his fingers. A sinful smirk lifted the corner of his mouth, and fuck, you never wanted to see someone’s face between your legs as bad as you did at that moment. 

“What? Scared?” You wanted to pat yourself on the back for not sounding as ruined as you already felt. 

Then, the smirk on Fox’s face turned wolfish. 

The disappointment at being empty only lasted a few seconds, your head spinning when Fox pulled you around to face him. It had to be the armor that made him look so broad. Although, if you remember correctly (you remembered perfectly), his shoulders still looked just as wide when he wasn’t wearing armor. 

The back of your legs bumped the seat of your speeder, and you slid onto the cushion without being prompted, fighting off a smirk when you leaned back against the control panel. Your feet came to rest on the housing holding the seat in place, your knees falling open as an invitation, and the way Fox’s eyes raked down your body made your walls flutter weakly. 

Fox said nothing as he walked around to the back of the bike. The model you drove was compact, narrower than most, and Fox easily straddled the engine. Your throat clicked as your eyes trailed upward until you reached his face. 

Maybe this position wasn’t the best idea when he’s looking down at you like that. 

Shuffling forward, Fox gently knocked your feet off the durasteel, moving to stand over the seat and forcing your legs open wider to accommodate his hips. The kama hanging around his hips brushed against the material of your pants, and suddenly, you needed to feel him again. 

The second his eyes dropped to your belt, your hands moved; Fox smirked, his hands resting on your knees. He took over once your pants reached your knees, and you tried not to snort at the few failed attempts at getting your pantleg over your boot. Any hint of amusement vaporized the second his fingers teased the inside of your thigh. 

“Take my codpiece off.” The order - and that was exactly what it was - made you jump, forcing your attention away from the feather-light touch of his fingers. 

For some reason, it wasn’t until that moment that you realized he was still fully armored…and would remain that way. Your lips parted around a nearly silent whine, but your hands were already moving to do as he said, even as his fingers wandered higher. 

It took a few tries to find the correct clip, but once you did, Fox groaned low in his throat without the pressure of his armor. Gods, he looked bigger than you remembered, but before, you could only feel him through layers of clothing. If you were being honest, you never thought you’d get past a few fleeting touches. 

This was much more than you expected. Not that you were complaining. 

Your thoughts screeched to a halt when a finger hooked up the band of your panties. Your breath caught when Fox shuffled forward again, only to pause. Fox’s eyes darted around like he was looking for something, and you tried to follow his movements. When he huffed through his nose, you reached up to gently cup his face, drawing his eyes back to you. 

“Probably should’ve thought about the logistics before we got here,” Fox mumbled, his nose wrinkling. The mannerism unique to him made you smile absently as you tried to think of a solution. 

“Come on, handsome, you’re a Marshal Commander. Don’t think you can keep us upright and fuck me senseless at the same time.” It was meant to be a joke, and it came out that way, but when Fox’s dark eyes snapped to your face, all the moisture in your mouth evaporated.

All you could do was throw your arms around his shoulders to keep yourself from tumbling off the speeder when he suddenly pulled you further down, stretching you out under him. The hand not wedged between your bodies grabbed the valley between controls, bringing his face inches from yours, and your walls fluttered again. 

“Watch me,” he growled. 

A broken gasp was punched out of your chest when the head of his cock brushed through your folds, gathering your arousal, but it didn’t fully hit you that, yes, you were about to do this until he paused at your entrance. Your nails scrapped against his backplate, clawing to have him closer, and Fox didn’t make you wait long. 

Lightning arced up your spine, your mouth dropping open as his hips shifted forward. It wasn’t until Fox’s mouth slanted over yours that you registered the high-pitched moan falling from your lips. Although he wasn’t much better, the kiss muffled his answering moan as he sank into you with care. 

The pinch of his armor should’ve bothered you when his hips finally stopped moving, but the hint of pain only made the pleasure clawing its way out that much more intense. Fox shuddered when you whimpered. 

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he panted into your mouth, his free hand squeezing the side of your thigh. 

“Fox,” you gasped, one of your hands sliding into his hair. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you made note that it was softer than you imagined. Then, he shifted his hips, and you might as well have forgotten what hair was. With a grunt barely muffled behind his teeth, Fox picked up a slow, careful pace that punched a broken sound past your lips that you tried to smother against the side of his neck. 

The bike shook with every roll of his hips, and while you had teased him about it earlier, you genuinely hoped you wouldn’t tumble to the ground. At least it would be an interesting story. 

As if he were reading your mind, Fox slid his hand up to your waist to coax your back to arch slightly so he could wrap his arm around you, lifting your hips in the process. The slight change forced your shoulders down against the control panel, and the next rock of his hips had stars exploding behind your eyelids. He wasn’t fast enough to muffle your cry this time, yet he didn’t seem to care anymore as he moved a little faster. 

“There we go,” he rumbled, his lips brushing over the corner of your mouth. 

Lights flashed in your vision, and you couldn’t tell if it was passing speeders or the pleasure blinding you at this point. Every nerve ending felt like it had been scorched, and Fox’s labored breathing and the occasional groan frayed your nerves even more. Your fingers tightened in Fox’s hair, and the answering moan that filled the air had you clenching around his cock, your back arching further. 

“Do it again,” Fox panted, his hips moving faster and harder than before. The bike trembled dangerously, but you were too far gone to care. You blindly did as he asked while he zeroed in on the spot that made your body tense almost painfully. His voice broke around a soft cry when you tugged on his curls again, and a fresh wave of heat coursed through your veins. 

Mindlessly, you forced your hand between your chest and Fox’s. The first brush of your fingers against your clit had every muscle pulling taut as you raced closer to the edge. 

Fox cursed, blindly searching for your mouth as his thrust grew sloppy. The speeder bike’s frame whined under the strain. 

You teetered on the edge for a heartstopping moment, blood rushing in your ears, and then the pleasure crested in a spectacular explosion of color. Fox shuddered against you, and you were almost too far gone to realize his hand had moved from the controls to cover your mouth. 

Sensations blurred together until all you knew was Fox: the feel of his hips snapping against you one last time, the vibration of his chest as he groaned one last time, and the taste of his mouth on your tongue. You were addicted, without a doubt.

The bike wobbled when Fox slumped against you, the hard press of his chest plate forcing out the little bit of air in your lungs with a wheeze. The fragmented pieces of your awareness slowly knitted back together, your fingers absently combing through the curls on the back of his head. Your lashes fluttered when he shifted, the soft hum in the back of his throat vibrating against your chest. 

The fucked out grin on his face had no right looking that good, and you vowed to see it again and again. As many times as he let you. 

“Told you I could,” Fox mumbled, blindly searching for a handhold to take some of his weight off of you. 

What he said sank in after a few seconds, and your borderline delirious laugh filled the air, making his smile grow. 

“It wasn’t a challenge,” you managed between laughs, your smile matching his. Fox merely shrugged, but his smile faltered when he moved to stand straighter, his expression pinching briefly. 

“Good, ‘cause my legs kinda hurt now.” Another laugh fell from your lips, echoing off the building surrounding you, and you pulled Fox back down into another kiss, smiling against his lips. 

taglist:

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@moonlightwarriorqueen @msmeredithrose @starrylothcat @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness

@trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @cw80831 @hetalianskywalker @bankseys-rat

@sev-on-kamino @dickarchivist

[hopeforchanges]

Okay but the sith obi-wan au with a sprinkle of amnesia (which i honestly am starting to doubt is amnesia) is brilliant. simply brilliant. and i love that you dropped us in medias res cause that's so quintessentially star wars-y but i am really cackling at how senator skywalker and obi-wan met. It's really nice to hear padme describe it with all that heartbreak but im wondering how anakin felt in that moment when the love of his life literally dropped out of the sky lmao

referring to this au

yeaaaaah the world was all before them is a year long project for 2025 :) and i appreciate the love friend <3 i suppose an update would be nice, but i can't just jump into it, so how about i give you a lil' prequel scene? the scene?

***

Anakin had only been a senator for four days and already he’d made a fool of himself on the floor, cried in his office once, and fallen asleep with his head on a datapad. His hair was too short, his robe was too big, and no one took him seriously—except for the Senate aides who took him very seriously and had already begun weaving his image into hopeful whispers about a “new era.”

He was nineteen. He wanted to go home. Or anywhere that wasn’t Coruscant.

So he escaped when he could—stepped out onto his balcony high above the skylanes, just to breathe, just to see the world without transparisteel between them. The city was loud, pulsing, indifferent. It made him feel small in a way that wasn’t humiliating, just honest.

Then something slammed into his railing with the force of a meteor and very nearly took him with it.

Anakin staggered back, arms windmilling, heart in his throat—and found himself face-to-face with a man in full Jedi robes, crouched on the edge of his balcony like a hawk ready to strike. His hair was wind-whipped, his saber already ignited in one hand, and his eyes—

His eyes were the exact color of thunder before it broke.

“Apologies,” the man said, breathless but not winded. “Didn’t mean to drop in.”

And before Anakin could summon a single coherent thought—much less a reply—a second blur of motion shot past overhead, followed by the piercing whine of a speeder and a woman shouting, “Kenobi!”

The man sighed. “Excuse me,” he said politely, and leapt back into the sky.

Anakin stared at the empty space where he’d been. His hands were still shaking. His datapad lay face-down on the ground, forgotten.

He was still standing there a full minute later when the Jedi returned—this time landing with slightly less drama, though no less grace. A fresh scrape bled at his temple, and he was gripping a stunned-looking smuggler by the collar with one hand.

“Mind if I use your balcony as a temporary holding cell?” the Jedi asked.

“Uh,” Anakin said. His brain was still catching up. “Sure.”

The Jedi smiled at him���smiled, like they were neighbors borrowing sugar—and then turned toward the sky, signaling something unseen.

Anakin stared. At his long hair. At the curve of his back. At the wild, ridiculous, absurd beauty of this man, who looked like the stories Anakin used to imagine in the middle of wild storms.

“Wait,” Anakin said, just as the Jedi turned to leap again. “What’s your name?”

The Jedi paused. Considered him.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he said, and his smile softened like it was meant only for Anakin. “And you, Senator Skywalker, should probably step inside before the next bounty hunter crashes your evening.”

He vanished again, cloak flaring behind him like a promise.

Anakin stood in the wind a little longer, unable to decide whether he was thrilled, terrified, or already a little bit in love.

[wolveria]

What We Did on Felucia - Ch 7

Pairing: The Bad Batch x f!Reader

Story Tags: Smut, dubcon, slow burn, sex pollen, eventual polybatch

Chapter Summary: “The way I see it, we have three options moving forward.”

AO3

Sleep continued to elude you. When you drifted into a restless slumber, you were woken to phantom touches and lingering heat. You closed your eyes to keep hold of the feeling, but it faded too soon as the horizon glowed with morning’s arrival.

You laid on your side after activating the opaque window, staring out at the fading night, the ocean somewhere far below you. Sometimes, when you had a view like this where all you could see was sky and seabirds, you could almost imagine you were back home. Not the Jedi Temple, with the distant view always marred by towering buildings and crawling skylanes. It reminded you of Cathar, or at least, what you could remember of it.

You weren’t sure why your thoughts turned to a homeworld you haven’t visited in decades. Most of your thoughts last night were replaying your conversation with Hunter.

What if we find a way?

You didn’t know how that would be possible, but… you were curious, and surprised. Much of the conversation had been surprising, including his forwardness. The way he looked at you with affection and warmth.

Hunter has always been respectful toward you, but he maintained a distance that the others didn’t share. Even Crosshair, though he’d taken the longest to win over, had formed a comradery with you that went beyond military hierarchy. Since the squad had been ordered to follow a Jedi commander, and they hadn’t been given a choice about that fact, you figured Hunter simply tolerated your presence.

Perhaps you needed to reassess that opinion.

You continued to watch the sun crest over the horizon until your stomach rumbled, and you forced yourself out of bed, showered, and dressed in your typical robes. They weren’t as regal as Master Shaak Ti’s robes, or as sleek as Master Secura’s garbs, but the light tunic and robes allowed you to move more freely than the usual bulky Jedi wear.

You were both disappointed and relieved there were only cadets and new troopers in the commissary, but you grew suspicious when your squad remained absent as the day wore on. The Marauder was still in its bay, and you checked the logs to make sure they hadn’t received any new orders.

Even the infirmary was empty of their presence. Tech and Crosshair had been medically cleared and discharged, though you did note the medical recommendation for rest and avoiding strenuous activity.

You spent the day with furtive attempts at meditation, purposefully avoiding where the men were most likely to be—their quarters. It was best to give them space. If they wanted to see you, they would. You weren’t exactly hard to find, or conspicuous, only one of two Jedi stationed on Tipoca City.

It was nearly last meal, and you were heading to the mess hall when your comm chirped from your wrist. You opened the line.

“Yes?”

“General, do you have a few minutes to talk?”

Your stomach flipped in a way it sometimes did right before mission deployment.

“Of course, Hunter.”

“Good.” Other than sounding relieved, he gave nothing away. “Come to our barracks. We’ll be waiting.”

Well, that sounded rather ominous.

“I’ll be there shortly.”

You clicked off the comm, gathered your turmoiled emotions and released them into the Force, and headed to the other side of the dome.

When you arrived at their quarters, you were unsurprised to find all five of your squad there, most of them in their armor even though they weren’t technically on duty. Only Crosshair and Tech weren’t fully geared, Crosshair wearing his armor from the waist down, his chest covered only by his body suit and the bacta wrappings. Tech’s greaves and boots were missing, calves and ankles covered in soft braces over his suit.

Hunter leaned against the wall near the window, arms folded, his usual air of quiet confidence unable to hide the tension you sensed underneath. You couldn’t remember a time when he was this on edge.

“Thanks for coming,” he said. “Figured it was… time we all had a conversation.”

You blew out a breath. That was an understatement.

“I agree. I would like to start, if that’s all right.”

His brows rose in surprise, but he stood straighter and said, “Please,” with a small gesture to indicate you had the floor.

Echo and Wrecker lounged on the couches in the middle of the space, while Tech tinkered with something on his bunk, and Crosshair was in the middle of cleaning his Firepuncher. All of them had turned their attention on you as soon as you walked in, even the sniper from where he perched on his partially hidden bunk, and the weight of their gazes almost made you reconsider.

But you didn’t.

“Before anything else, I want to apologize for leaving without speaking to you first. I acted out of fear, and I made a mistake. One that nearly cost you your lives.” You let your gaze fall first on Tech, then Crosshair. Tech’s expression was open, forgiving, but Crosshair’s was as closed as his thoughts, his emotions walled off without a hope of glimpsing them.

“I understand it will take time to rebuild that trust, but that’s an effort I’m willing to make, if you’ll allow me the chance.”

You met their gazes one by one before your eyes dropped to the floor, and you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

A beat of silence passed, and it was the most difficult silence you had to bear.

“You’re here now.” Echo spoke first, his lips tugged into a faint smile. “That’s what matters to me.”

“We… we thought you were gone for good, but… you came back!” Wrecker’s expression lifted before sadness encroached on its edges again. “But you gotta promise you won’t leave us. You’re our Jedi.”

You began to smile, but Crosshair’s words were like a splash of ice water over your head.

“She won’t make a promise she knows she can’t keep.” He chewed his toothpick slow, unhurried, like a predator gnawing a bone. “Your loyalty is to your Order. Not us.”

“Crosshair,” Hunter growled in a way that sounded as if they’d had this argument before. The sniper simply raised a brow at the warning.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

He said this last to you, and even though Crosshair’s tone was light, his gaze was hard. Piercing.

Your voice was quiet, aimed less at him than the rest of the squad.

“We are at war. There may come a time when I’m assigned elsewhere, or they replace me with someone they believe is a better fit.”

“Unlikely,” Tech chimed in. “I have conducted extensive research of all active-duty Jedi, and you are the most compatible with this team’s improvised strategy and unorthodox tactics.”

You looked at Tech, and then at Wrecker, Echo, Crosshair, and finally your gaze landed on Hunter, who had been conspicuously silent most of the conversation. He gave a small sigh and pushed off the wall.

“Whether or not you’re our commander, it doesn’t change what you are to us.”

“What I am… to you?”

“That’s why I called this discussion. Our relationship with you has always been unusual, to say the least, but it’s why this works so well.” He paused, as if considering his next words and whether to say them, but he eventually pushed forward. “You’re our general, but… you’re more than that. Like Wrecker said, you’re our Jedi. You belong with us.”

The words, almost possessive in their firmness, traveled up your spine in a pleasant tremble.

Then Hunter’s hard gaze softened, and he said, “Nothing proved that more than Felucia did.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted, the tension of holding one’s breath, and you realized you had also stopped breathing. It was why when you spoke, your words were breathless and airy.

“Even after you know what it did to me?”

Hunter’s expression didn’t change, but the others reacted in various degrees of surprise and worry.

“What it did to you?” Echo repeated sharply. Wrecker was half out of his seat.

“D-did we hurt you?”

“Are there lingering symptoms?” Tech’s datapad was already in hand. “Perhaps your hormones are still affected; you aren’t human, it is possible your biology would process the chemical differently. If I could take a blood sample—”

“That’s not what she means.”

Hunter shot Crosshair a glare but said nothing. His tone might have been smug, but his gaze remained on you, waiting to see if you had the courage to admit the truth. Your shoulders sank, along with your hopes that you could salvage this conversation and the respect of your squad.

“I said I left because I was afraid, and that’s true, though I haven’t been entirely honest.” You braced yourself, and when the words came out, they felt like they had a physical cost. “I caught a glimpse of something I can’t have, and I feared how much I wanted it.”

The silence was so absolute you thought you could almost hear the rain pelt against the thick transparisteel. Eventually, you were brave enough to look up, only Crosshair and Hunter’s expressions hadn’t changed. Tech’s eyes were wide but curious behind his goggles, and Echo’s eyes were also round, but then they softened into something warm. Wrecker looked like someone had hit him with the broadside of a starfighter.

When you finally turned to Hunter, your heart was in your throat and your words were almost pleading.

“We are at war,” you repeated. “That must come first, always. But… even if we were in peacetime, such attachments are forbidden, and for good reason. I… I can’t…”

“But you want,” he finished. You couldn’t meet his gaze, the gentleness and understanding too much to face.

“Yes.”

“All of us?”

Tech sounded either surprised or impressed, while Wrecker’s mouth hung open. Crosshair, however, looked like a nexu that had stumbled into a pen of nunas.

“Our Jedi is a greedy little thing, isn’t she? Good thing she can handle the entire squad.”

“Permission to stun him, sir,” Echo growled.

“Denied, for now.” Hunter glared at Crosshair, as if that ever affected him. “You wanna try that again? And start with an apology.”

“No, no, it’s fine—” You tried to stave off the argument you saw coming from a parsec away, but Echo rose to his feet, his own glare sharp enough to rival Crosshair’s.

“It’s not fine. He continually disrespects you, and he’s been an unbearable asshole since Felucia.”

Crosshair almost knocked his rifle to the floor with how fast he gained his feet.

“Shut up, reg.”

“Who you callin’ reg?” Wrecker stood tall and imposing, while Tech simply watched with a troubled expression. Wrecker added, “Echo’s right, you know. You haven’t been the same since—”

Crosshair growled and stalked forward, but you got to him before Hunter and planted yourself in front of him. You placed your palm on his chest, and he jerked back so quickly you thought you had harmed him. But you didn’t sense any physical pain, and your touch had been purposefully light, and clear of the bandages.

“Crosshair?”

For a moment, there had been something in his gaze, a sharp hurt that cut like a knife. But it was already gone, his expression smooth and uncaring.

“This conversation is over. Now, if you don’t mind, I have more important things to do—”

“No, you don’t. Not more important than this, and we’re still talking.” Hunter’s tone dropped as he added, “But if you don’t want to be part of this conversation, you’re welcome to leave.”

Crosshair glared over your shoulder at the spot Hunter stood behind you, but when he looked down at your pleading expression, the anger seeped away, replaced by detached amusement. So, typical Crosshair.

“Well, I’d hate to miss all the fun.”

He popped a new toothpick into his mouth, and with one last look that was too focused to be uninterested, he returned to his bunk. His posture on its surface was languid and lazy, but he failed to hide the tension in his jaw.

Crisis averted for the moment, you turned back to the others. Hunter was in the middle of running a hand through his hair, able to do so because he’d taken off his bandana. You couldn’t remember a time when it hadn’t been securely banded around his head.

Hunter caught your open stare, and his tired, drawn expression relaxed into the hint of a smile and a teasing glint in his eye.

“So,” he began, “We know how you feel about us. It’s only fair you know how we feel about you.”

The mood in the room shifted again, this time to something much more visceral, sharp, and panicked. Wrecker shook his head and made a frantic motion in front of his throat, Tech’s eyes behind his goggles had gone large again, and Echo looked like he’d swallowed something that still wriggled. Crosshair had completely frozen in place.

“Let’s just say, it’s reciprocated,” Hunter said.

You stared at him, uncomprehending.

He frowned, must have realized he needed to spell it out, and added, “We want you.”

In an inverted version of Tech’s question, your voice pitched a little too high, you asked, “All of you?”

Tech was the first to recover, pushing his goggles up his nose.

“Is that so surprising?”

“Well… yes. Have you looked at yourselves in the mirror?”

They glanced at each other in clear confusion, and Echo joked, “In case you haven’t noticed, we all kinda look the same.”

“Echo is correct,” Tech said. “We may be variations on a theme, but the similarities are unavoidable, and it is difficult to quantify one’s physical appearance when we come from the same genetic template.”

You’d always wondered how the clones viewed themselves in terms of attractiveness, and you realized they may have never considered themselves desirable before now.

“Then let me put the issue to rest. You’re all attractive. Objectively attractive. Perhaps, even measurably attractive.”

Their sudden attention ruffled your fur.

“The… the point is, you’re desirable.”

Wrecker blinked and returned to his seat on the couch, where he nudged Echo and whispered loud enough for the entire room to hear, “Jedi notice that kind of thing?”

“Generally, we keep it to ourselves, but yes.” Your lips pulled into a small smile. “We notice beauty in those around us.”

You glanced at Crosshair, catching him in one of those sharp, focused stares. He immediately rolled his eyes and looked away, but there was a small upward tilt to his mouth.

“All right, we’re getting off topic,” Hunter said with a sigh.

“And what topic is that, precisely?” Tech frowned and adjusted his goggles. “You were avoidant when I asked about the purpose of this conversation.”

“You mean, he was cagey,” Crosshair purred.

“I wasn’t—” Hunter took another deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I asked for the meet so we could lay all our cards on the table. And… once we know where we stand, we can go from there.”

His eyes met yours, expectant, but you didn’t know what he was waiting for.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“The way I see it, we have three options moving forward.”

Your entire focus turned to him, and you sensed the others also paying attention.

“We can pretend Felucia didn’t happen and carry on as we were before. I think we can all agree that hasn’t worked so far.”

You nodded, guilt surfacing again like pond sludge that had been dislodged from the rocky bottom, but Hunter’s expression was gentle and absent of judgement.

“Two, we can acknowledge what happened, how it’s changed our relationship, but we remain at a professional distance.”

No one said anything to that.

“Or, third. We do something about it.”

Your stomach felt like it no longer obeyed the gravitational pull of the planet as you asked, “Do… what?”

Hunter rubbed the back of his neck, and you sensed that unusual nervousness return again.

“This isn’t exactly my area of expertise, but from what I understand, it’s not unheard of for a person to have… uh… multiple partners.”

He said this last in defeat, as if he expected you to shoot the idea down immediately; but you just stared at him, trying and failing to comprehend what he was suggesting. But Tech perked up as he usually did when he realized he had a piece of helpful information to reveal.

“I believe you are referring to a group, or multi-partner, relationship. A polycule, for shorthand.”

The significance of Hunter’s suggestion finally dawned on you.

“You mean… we would be dating? All of us?”

Tech frowned.

“I believe the nature of our bonds are too intertwined to be quantified by a concept as informal as ‘dating.’ However, I would not be averse to taking you out on a ‘date,’ as such.”

You weren’t the only one staring at Tech now, and he frowned deeper at the scrutiny.

“It’s a scenario I’d considered many times, though not one I had thought feasible.”

“Why not?”

“The odds of you finding me desirable in a sexual or romantic capacity were not in my favor.”

You gave a small smile.

“I’d consider them in your favor.”

“Oh.”

Tech blinked, his cheeks flushed. It was the second time you caused that reaction, and you wanted to do it on many more occasions.

“So…” Hunter prompted, bringing the conversation back on topic, but there was a hint of humor in his eyes. “Sound like something you might be interested in?”

It was your turn to find it hard to speak. You’d never courted anyone before, or been courted, and the idea of being in a courtship with five men was something you couldn’t begin to imagine. Did they know anything about Cathar courtship rituals?

Stars, did you? It wasn’t something you’d ever planned on needing to know, and what little you remembered made the idea daunting.

“You don’t have to decide tonight,” he added. “It’s a lot to think about, but there’s no time limit. No missions for a while with Tech and Crosshair on medical leave, either.”

You nodded, and then cast your gaze around the disorderly barracks and the clones who made it their home.

“What about the rest of you? Do you need time to consider, or…”

“It’s already considered,” Tech said. “I should very much like to try.”

“If it’s something you want, then I’d be an idiot to pass up the chance,” Echo added, his smile surprisingly flirtatious, and you wondered how you would survive the attention of all of them when that small gesture was enough to heat your face.

“Getting to spend more time with you?” Wrecker’s eyes sparkled with the bright excitement that had been absent for too long. “Hell yeah. Sign me up!”

Crosshair scoffed.

“This isn’t a mission sign-up, Wrecker.”

Wrecker crossed his arms and scowled at his brother.

“What about you? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

Crosshair simply flicked his toothpick at him, and Wrecker slapped it out of the air before it could hit him.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

You tried to catch his eye, but the sniper refused to meet it, pointedly looking elsewhere. Of course he wouldn’t make this easy, he never did. You sighed, and then finally looked up at Hunter.

He gave you another little smile, the kind that was surprisingly teasing for the normally stoic clone, and he said, “I’m all in.”

Wrecker let out a whoop and a raunchy whistle, not helping the situation or your ruffled state.

“All right, all right. Cool it,” Hunter said, trying to regain some of his position as their squad leader, which none of them took particularly serious in that moment.

You glanced at Crosshair, his reserved answer gnawing at you, but he still wouldn’t meet your eye. You would leave it be for now. He might have the patience inherent with being a sniper, but you were a Jedi. Who knew balancing on rocks and meditating under waterfalls for hours would give you an advantage in this particular situation.

“It’s late.” You turned to the rest of the squad. “I don’t want to keep you too long. I’ll, ah… let you know what I decide? I mean, I’m not sure how it would work, or…”

“We can figure out the logistics later,” Hunter said, his expression grateful at interrupting the teasing Wrecker had decided to shower him with.

“Such as laying down ground rules so there is no miscommunication,” Tech added, his datapad already at his fingertips. “I will have to conduct research on these types of relationships and return with more data.”

Echo made a face at him.

“There’s more to it than that. You’re not going to find answers about complex relationships in some academic archive.”

“Says you, Mr. Regulation Manual,” Wrecker teased, jabbing an elbow into Echo’s shoulder that almost sent him toppling off the cushions. Echo sighed and rubbed his arm.

“I never should have told you about Domino Squad.”

You sensed the argument was simply going to escalate from there. Hunter must have known it too, because he shook his head and turned back to you with a long-suffering smile.

“Night, General.”

You bid him goodnight, as well as the rest of the group, and on your way out you passed Crosshair’s bunk and gave him a quiet, “Sleep well.” He was lying down in his bunk at that point, one leg bent with his arm propped behind his head, and he gave you a reserved but genuine smile. The sight of it knocked the breath from your lungs.

“I’m sure I will,” he said, all silk and satin.

You left the barracks behind, the teasing, friendly banter cut off when the door slid shut. The corridor was dimmed for the night cycle, and you walked back to your room, alone as you were every night.

But unlike every other night, the warmth of companionship stayed with you, and the dreary, rainy night no longer felt so cold and dark.

Next Chapter

[99tech99]

A/N: I went to Yosemite, Zion, Bryce National Parks (US) recently and the trees were unlike ANYTHING I had ever experienced. I thought it would be sweet for reader to experience nature for the first time. These pictures are from my phone (unedited). The first is from the foot of El Capitan in Yosemite, the second is from the Emerald Pools trail in Zion, and the last is in the ascent to Thor’s Hammer in Bryce. The last one is a touch distorted because I had to use pano because the trees were literally too tall to fit in the frame.

WARNINGS: none?? well i guess sort of low key suggestive at the end.

1.5k words under cut

“What are those I wonder?” You and Director Krennic were in his chauffeured speeder winding through the skylanes of Coruscant. You pointed at the huge, illuminated holoboard you were passing.

“The trees?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes impatiently. “No, no. There!” The display changed. “Oh, you missed it. There was an advert for Star Tours, a trip to some moon. It was showing these huge brown cylindrical towers with tubes sticking out, all covered in green.”

“I saw it. You mean the trees?” he asked again with a quizzical frown.

“No! I know what trees are, Orson,” you said impatiently. “They’re…” you raised a hand above your head, then spread your arms wide, trying to pantomime “tree.”

“Alright.” He was smiling at you, clearly trying not to laugh. Whenever the two of you disagreed, he treated you like a precocious toddler. It vexed you to no end.

You gave up trying to explain. “I know what trees are,” you grumbled. “Never mind.” You crossed your arms and settled back into the seat of the speeder. Krennic was still smirking annoyingly at you. You ignored him and privately deciding that they must be some sort of communication towers. But why in the galaxy a moon would need such an abundance of comms towers or why anyone would want to visit them was a mystery to you.

***

“I win, you know,” Krennic announced a few weeks later, entering the drawing room of his apartment. You looked up from his couch where you were curled up reading the latest batch of ISB files on your datapad.

“Oh, I’m sure you think you do,” you replied with a wry smile. “What have you won?”

“Your birthday. I have just arranged the most perfect present for you. It took quite some doing. I’ve rather outdone myself, in fact, which is saying something.”

You groaned and set your datapad aside. “Ugh, every year I tell you that I do not want or need anything for my birthday. It’s not even for another month!”

“And yet, I am always compelled to do something deplorably extravagant.” He sat down on the end of the couch and pulled your legs across his lap. “Besides, I would think you would look forward to your birthday. With each passing year, it becomes slightly less inappropriate for you to be involved with me.”

You laughed and tossed a pillow at him. “Only if you plan to quit aging, old man.”

With a scandalized expression, he tossed the pillow back at you. You dodged it. “If anything about our relationship ever becomes appropriate, I may have to leave out of sheer boredom,” you teased.

“Noted,” he said, drawing you in for a kiss. “In that case, I will very inappropriately ask you to dinner, then very inappropriately invite you to stay with me tonight, so we can very inappropriately leave first thing tomorrow.”

“Simply scandalous,” you agreed, “but I can rarely refuse you.

“Where are we going?” you asked, knowing full well he would never tell you.

“Now, now, my dear,” said Krennic standing up and pulling you to your feet. “There’s no fun in spoiling a surprise.”

***

He took the element of the surprise of your present extremely seriously. He wouldn’t even allow you to pack, saying he had taken care of everything already. Indeed, when you got to the landing pad of his private shuttle the next morning, you saw your luggage already waiting. Krennic refused to give the pilot the coordinates of your destination aloud, transmitting them directly to the navicomputer instead. And when the ship was just about to drop out of hyperspace, he produced a blindfold.

“Really, Orson? That’s not a bit extreme?” you questioned.

“Not at all,” he replied. He stood behind you, but instead of securing the silk around over your eyes, he fastened a delicate silver chain around your neck. You glanced down. An irregularly-shaped shard of bright green crystal dangled from the chain against your chest. You knew at once what it must be, but you couldn’t believe Krennic would be so bold as to abscond a piece for you. But there was nothing else in the galaxy it could be. It was Kyber.

“Is this…?” you asked.

“Happy birthday my love.” He kissed your cheek and tied the silk band around your head.

In a moment you felt the gentle lurch as the ship fell out of hyperspace and began its decent to the planet’s surface.

The pilot made a smooth landing. When the shuttle ramp lowered, you strained your ears for a clue of where you might be. You heard the faintest but most melodious chimes.

Krennic took you by the hand and led you down the ramp. The ground beneath your feet felt soft yet stable beneath your boots. Krennic paused and you stopped too. The most wonderful scent filled your nostrils. You had never smelled anything like it in your life. It was sharp and sweet and spice-like, all at the same time. You stood, inhaling deeply, savoring the freshness of the air. All at once, you realized the sound you had not heard chimes, but birds.

“Do you know where we are?” Krennic asked.

You shook your head.

Krennic removed your blindfold. You blinked in the brilliant sunlight. It took your eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness. Then you gasped.

You were surrounded by dozens and dozens and hundreds of the structures you had seen on the holoboard all those weeks ago. Only they weren’t artificial towers. They really, truly were…

“Trees!” you whispered. You let go of Krennic’s hand and took a step toward the nearest one. You became aware of your heart pounding in your chest. Stretching trembling fingers toward the tree, you paused, then gently pressed your whole palm into the trunk. The cracked, rough bark felt like nothing else you had ever touched. You swore you could feel the life of the tree, pulsing through it, coursing into you.

Craning your neck, you tried to look through the branches to the very top. Peeking through the needle-like leaves was the bluest sky you had ever seen. Looking down, you marveled at the dappled sunlight dancing on the needle-strewn earth. The breeze tousled your hair as you wandered, trancelike, from one tree to the next.

These couldn’t be real, they just couldn’t. You could not comprehend how anything so massive and beautiful and strong could spontaneously exist in nature, independent of any human intervention. It was simply sacred. You stood still, your face tilted toward the sun in a clearing as though wanting to become one with the forest.

Krennic, however, was paying no attention to the trees or birds or sky. His eyes never left your face, and in his estimation, you had never appeared more radiant. He took a step toward you, accidentally snapping a twig.

You jumped. You had all but forgotten he was there.

“Do you like your gift?” he asked.

“Orson Callan Krennic!” you accused.

“Now how can I possibly be in trouble?” he protested, taking your hands in his.

“Only you…” you shook your head in mock annoyance.

“Mm, yes, only I am capable of many things my dear. I’m afraid you’re going to have to narrow that down.”

“Only you could devise a scenario wherein you are able to magnanimously bestow this grand gesture of a present to me, with the hidden motivation of proving yourself correct.”

Smiling mischievously, Krennic kissed your hands. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” His expression grew serious. “I would give you the galaxy if it were mine to confer. As things stand, this will have to suffice.”

You kissed him hard. “Thank you Orson. This trip was perfect. Can we please stay a while longer?”

Krennic tilted his head and gave you a sly smile. “The trip is not your present.”

Your hand touched your necklace.

“No…This,” he gestured, spreading his arms wide, “is your present.”

“The…forest?” you asked, confused.

“The whole moon,” he clarified.

It took a moment for what he was saying to sink in. Your eyes grew huge. “The whole—You bought me—Can you even do that??” you asked weakly.

“Can one in general buy a moon? No. But as you said last night, darling, I’m a difficult man to refuse.

“The forest moon of Endor. Doesn’t currently have its own name, but you can obviously call it whatever you like.” He continued on about the mass of the moon and length of day and the planet it orbited and other specs, but you weren’t comprehending.

An entire moon? He would give you the galaxy? Your head was swimming. In a dreamlike daze you kissed him again.

“It’s too much,” you said.

“It is, isn’t it?” he concurred, immensely pleased with your reaction.

You smiled flirtatiously. “I’ll need to thank you properly, won’t I?”

You could feel him getting hard already. “Yes, I think you better,” he agreed. “More than once?” he added hopefully.

You laughed. “Yes, love. All night.”

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[webslinger-holland]

The Sergeant's Senator | Chapter 3

Summary: Returning to the senator's home, the Bad Batch quickly realizes that they are under attack. They have to act fast if they want to catch the shooter.

Warning: assassination attempt, destruction of furniture, various weapons used, sniper/shooter mentioned, someone getting shot, slight talk of blood, slight moment of panic for reader, concussion symptoms discussed but not confirmed

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader Senator

Type: Short Series

Word Count: 4.8k

Series Masterlist

Only a few hours later, the sun had dripped below the line of the horizon and the moon began to rise into the skyline. Though the hours of the night fell over Coruscant, it was a place that truly never slept. The planet's skylanes directed the air-traffic of airspeeders via auto-navigation system that moved the speeders along preprogrammed routes.

In the Senate District, Senator Rayna possessed an apartment in one of the high-rises. Her place was situated on Level 60, which meant it was a little over halfway until one reached the top of the high-rise. Upon entering the apartment, there was a large spacious living area adorned with fancy plush couches, custom woodwork tables, and dainty priceless knickknacks.

A single bedroom was located near the back of the apartment. In the living room and bedroom, there were grand windows that overlooked the vast expanse of the city. It was quite similar to the architecture of her office not six blocks away. These windows were installed to promote plenty of sunlight during the daytime and a scenic view of the city lights during the nighttime.

It was a quite spacious and luxurious space; a fitting living situation for the planet's senator.

Walking into the apartment by following the senator, the Bad Batch took a moment to take in their surroundings. They felt out of place like they didn't deserve to even step foot into the apartment. Everything looked too expensive to touch.

"Smells weird," Wrecker noted. His nostrils flared at the odd scent.

"Because it's clean," Echo retaliated.

The senator only smiled at them. She gestured towards them with a wave of the hand, silently inviting them to take a few steps further in. She saw the door close behind them.

"This is my place. I don't really spend a lot of time here," Senator Rayna insisted. She took note of how each of them were looking at something different. Whether they were glancing out the window, examining a random figure on a table, testing the feeling of various textures, or looking directly at her.

Given that she was finally home for the day, Y/n had lifted her leg behind her until she felt her shoe come in contact with her hand. She steadily removed her heel before mimicking the notion with her other leg. Once her shoes were removed, her stance dropped down another inch in height.

The senator proceeded to remove the tie from her braid. She weaved her fingers through her hair to undo the braid and work out any knots. As her hair began to fall around her face, Hunter felt this fire ignite in the pit of his stomach. He thought her hair looked much better down.

"We'll give you some privacy," Hunter quickly noted.

"Make yourselves comfortable. There is food on the table if you're hungry," Y/n stated. She gestured to the table where a bowl of fresh fruit lay.

"I'm always hungry," Wrecker claimed. He eagerly made his way over the the table and grabbed the nearest fruit. He stuffed it into his mouth without hesitation.

With that, the senator went to turn towards her private quarters. She did not catch the way the sergeant's eyes followed her form as she entered her room or how they stayed on her until the door was fully closed. His mind was still lost until one of his brothers spoke up.

"Your thoughts are painfully loud," Crosshair grumbled from across the room. He was currently standing beside the large window, which was an indication that he found a decent perch for a sniper's view. He began to assemble the parts for his rifle.

"I don't know what you mean," Hunter lied through his teeth. Looking over his shoulder, Hunter had a feeling that Crosshair was rolling his eyes at him from behind his helmet.

"Oh please. Don't play innocent," Crosshair scoffed. He proceeded to remove his helmet, setting it down on a table beside him. He plucked a toothpick into his mouth. "You're practically drooling all over her."

Meanwhile, the other three clones watched the brothers interaction. Their gazes switching between the two of them. They often didn't get along so this was nothing new to them.

"You jealous?" Hunter teased. An all knowing smirk graced across his lips. He always knew how to push his brother's buttons.

"Not in the slightest," Crosshair went to cross his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall behind him. He further explained himself. "Not my type."

"What? Coruscanti?" Hunter wondered.

"Politicians," Crosshair corrected him.

"Fair point," Hunter agreed. He redirected his attention to look back at the closed door.

"Be careful, brother. Don't get too attached," Crosshair warned. His voice sounded like it was laced with venom, but his words rang in his brother's ears.

Ignoring this comment, Hunter went to approach the window in the living space. His gaze lowered towards the city below them, looking at all the airspeeders moving rapidly. He remained stationed by the window, but his senses picked up what was happening next door.

Behind him, Wrecker continued to consume the entire bowl of fruit greedily. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, somewhat content with the quality he had eaten. Then there was Tech who was currently fidgeting with his data pad. He made some minor adjustments with a miniature screwdriver.

By the window, Crosshair had just finished setting up his sniper's rifle. He opened the window before carefully lifting his long rifle to rest on the ledge. He peered through the scope to examine the city. Finally, Echo was still taking in some of his surroundings. He found himself walking around the spacious room, glancing at little figurines and art pieces on the walls.

For a brief moment, Hunter silently wondered if he should tune out what he was hearing. He glanced down at the helmet in his hands, which was customized to help him drown out noises if he switched a setting. Tech had made this feature for him a long time ago. This helped the sergeant when his senses grew overloaded, bringing him a sense of calm and comfort.

After some contemplation, Hunter chose to not put his helmet on. He closed his eyes to focus in on the sounds he was hearing, permitting his heightened senses to take over. The first thing that he noticed was a soft humming voice coming from the other room. His lips twitched into a smile.

The sergeant also heard the soft patter of feet making its way across the bedroom, accompanied by the soft swish of a fabric. As the footsteps grew a little louder, Hunter turned his head to face the door as he presumed she was walking towards it. Sure enough, the bedroom door opened to reveal the young senator wearing a long white nightgown. A blue silk robe hung over her shoulders.

Without thinking, Hunter's eyes dragged down the entire length of her body. He tried to commit the littlest of details to memory. He quickly placed his helmet over his head in hopes of hiding the way he was staring at her. He cleared his throat.

Opening the bedroom door further, Senator Rayna invited him into the confines of her room to speak privately with him. He silently obliged to this, shifting forward in order to enter her room. They left the door open, but kept distance away from the doorway for the privacy they sought. The two of them turned to face one another.

"So what's the game plan for tonight?" Senator Rayna intrigued. She crossed her arms over her chest, hoping to maintain a modest appearance for her sergeant.

"We think it would be safe for us to stay here one night," Hunter stated plainly. "Get a feel of things. Make sure you can get some sleep tonight," Hunter added.

"Alright," Y/n agreed with a firm nod of the head.

"Tomorrow, we will only have one person stay with you. We'll rotate and take turns," Hunter further explained. "Clone barracks are only three blocks away should we need to call for backup."

Upon hearing this, Senator Rayna felt the air getting sucked out of her chest. She inhaled sharply. Her body grew quite tense. Almost immediately, Hunter saw the uneasiness in her expression. He heard how fast her heartbeat picked up. He was quick to reassure her.

"Not that we expect to call for backup regularly," Hunter tried to bring up her spirits.

"No, but it is good to be prepared for anything."

"I agree," Hunter nodded.

Unbeknownst to them, a masked figure had made their way to the rooftop of a building across the way from the high-rise. With a large package in hand, the mysterious person made their way to the ledge of the rooftop. They peered over the edge to look down at the steady flow of traffic.

Setting down the package and unlocking the box, the pieces to a rifle lay incased within it. They quickly began to assemble the sniper rifle, clicking the parts into place. Now looking over the side of the ledge, the sniper raised it's weapon to rest on the ledge. They focused the scope to get a better view.

The scope's view shifted past the various windows of the high-rise, searching for one in particular. It eventually settled on the right window, spotting the infamous senator standing in her own quarters. It looked like she was talking to a clone though it was awfully hard to see his armor.

The sniper took the time to watch the clone turn around in his place and begin walking towards the door to the room. He only got a few steps away before the sniper proceeded with their original plan.

Lowering the scope slightly, the unknown sniper fired a single shot at the window. However, it wasn't a blaster shot. It was a small magnetized explosive. The explosive latched onto the surface of the window without difficulty, activating a timer that blinked red.

In that exact moment, Hunter can to an abrupt halt in his steps. He could hear the steady beeping sound of the explosive from outside the window. He surveyed his surroundings, searching for the source of the noise.

"Sergeant?" Senator Rayna inquired from behind him. "What is it?"

Upon realizing what the sound was, Hunter only had one second to act quickly. He spun around on the heels of his feet and ran directly for the senator. Next thing she knew, a body had forcefully slammed into her and tackled her to the ground. She felt her head hit the floor hard, but she didn't think that mattered at the moment.

Because the explosive had suddenly detonated and destroyed the window glass. A million shards of glass threw across the room, landing as far as the other side of the bed. With the shock from the explosion, Hunter did his absolute best to use his body as a shield as he lay on top of the senator. He covered her head with his hands, keeping her face tucked into his chest.

In the other room, the other clones had seen the explosion through the open door. As if this was a battle simulation, they drew their weapons and quickly got into their respective positions. Wrecker had grabbed the large wooden table and hoisted it up onto its side. He dropped down to take cover behind it with Echo and Tech following suit.

By the window, Crosshair had the smallest bit of coverage by a pillar. He peered through the scope of his own rifle, desperately searching for where the explosive could have been fired from. His scope focused on every single rooftop.

Wherever the assailant was, they suddenly began firing blaster rounds into the now open window. The blaster shots began striking the back wall where the senator had once stood. They hit nobody.

Hearing the blaster fire directly above him, Hunter could only heavily rely on the protection provided by the bed beside him. He could hear it drawing closer as it now grazed the blankets on the bed. Attempting to keep the senator safe, Hunter pressed his body further into hers and squeezed her tightly. He could feel how desperately she clung to him.

Finally, Crosshair's scope was able to find the exact rooftop where the assailant was located. He could barely see a figure peeking from the ledge, but he saw the rounds firing from the weapon. He fired a single shot, which struck the ledge right below the weapon. The assassin quickly cowered out of view.

Knowing this was far from over, Hunter went to press the comm attached to his wrist. He spoke over the comms. "Bad Batch Plan 100," Hunter ordered.

Receiving their orders, Wrecker and Echo seized the opportunity to leave the apartment in order to pursue the assassin across the street. The two of them began running as fast as they could. The plan entailed them hurrying to capture the assassin while the others tried to distract them in the meantime.

Suddenly, the unknown assassin popped their head over the ledge once again. However, this time, they fired a single shot towards the window in the living room. The explosive latching onto the window once again. With little time to waste, Crosshair took cover right beside his brother who was still behind the table. The explosion shattered the glass, sending it across the room.

Now, the assassin began firing blaster rounds through both of the open windows. They seemed to be alternating between the two rooms, firing a round of shots before switching to aim at the other room. The shots kept coming with the clear intention of trying to hit someone.

"Tech," Wrecker's voice sounded over the comm channel. "Where is this guy? Have you gotten a lock on his location?"

"I'm working on it," Tech replied back.

He sneakily peered around the edge of the table. He pressed the side of his helmet which dropped the scanner over his eyes. A very distinctive red heat signature appeared on his scanner on the same rooftop. The smoke spewed out of the tip of the rifle, signifying it's overuse.

"West Tower Level 64 Mark 329," Tech called out.

"Roger that," Echo replied through the comms. "In pursuit."

Switching targets, blaster fire began pouring through the living quarters. It began striking the back walls, destroying the paintings, and ripping holes through the furniture. In response, Crosshair and Tech remained hidden behind the table in hopes that it would continue to provide them with protection. They couldn't hold out forever.

Recognizing that the blaster shots weren't coming through the room at that specific moment, Hunter carefully placed his forearms on either side of the senator's head. He pushed himself upwards slightly, pulling his armor plated chest off her own and peering down at her small frame.

The small specks of glass were sliding off his back and falling to the ground around them. He could feel his muscles aching in pain, which pulled a soft groan out of his mouth.

"Are you alright, senator?" Hunter inquired after her well-being. His ears were burning from the sound of the blaster fire streaking through the room next door. "I need you to use your words, sweetheart. Are you alright?" Hunter asked once again.

"Y-Yes. I-I-I'm alright," Senator Rayna stumbled over her words. She nodded franticly. It almost felt like her heart was about to burst out of her chest from how rapidly it was beating.

"Everything is going to be alright," Hunter reassured her. "I'm gonna get you out of this."

Peering around his own body, Hunter spotted his two brothers in the other room. The two of them took turns firing shots around the table they had taken refuge behind, shooting blindly at the assailant on the rooftop. They took cover again just as the blaster fire was returned to them.

"As much as I enjoy this position," Hunter spoke while turning back to face the senator laying under his body. "I need to go help my brothers."

"What about you? You're going to get shot if you go out there," Y/n exclaimed.

"Don't worry about me. Our mission is to protect you and that is exactly what we are going to do," Hunter replied.

Finally, Hunter further lifted himself up until he wasn't laying on her anymore. He brought himself into a crouching position for a brief second before switching to lean against the side of the bed for more cover. He retrieved the blaster from his holster.

"Stay here. Stay low," Hunter ordered.

When Tech went to look around the table, he felt a single blaster shot whiz right past him. He just barely managed to dodge the shot, sitting back against the table to maintain coverage for the moment. That shot was much too close for Hunter's liking.

"Wrecker, Echo," Hunter called for them over the comms. "How are we coming along here?"

"We are nearly at the top," Echo replied. He glanced up at the long staircase, guessing that they only had a few more floors to go. They had been climbing the long staircase for a few minutes now.

"So many stairs," Wrecker panted from behind him. He went to lean his body against the railing, wanting nothing more than to take a short breather. The two of them continued to climb the staircase, getting higher and higher with each step.

"We need to do something; we can't just sit here." Crosshair explained from his position. While Tech agreed with him, there was little any of them could do until the others reached the shooter.

By lifting his head, Hunter spotted the light hanging from the ceiling in the other room. Without hesitation, he raised his blaster to shoot the light out. The sharp shards of glass shattered around the light, falling to the floor. Naturally, Crosshair and Tech flinched from the sound of glass breaking directly above them. They covered their heads to protect themselves.

"What the hell are you doing?" Crosshair shouted at his brother from the other room.

Ignoring his comment, Hunter proceeded to shoot out the light hanging above the bed. The sound of glass breaking filled the room and blaster fire halted momentarily. Both of the rooms were now protected under the veil of darkness.

"Can't shoot if you can't see," Hunter explained. Even though Crosshair rolled his eyes at his remark, he only did so because he knew he was right.

Sure enough, the shooter had a hard time finding a target in the darkness. They moved the rifle to point at one room before switching to point at the other room. The shooter tried to look for any sign of movement, eyes narrowing behind the scope.

Seizing the opportunity, Hunter moved upwards until he was just peeking over the edge of the bed. He pointed his blaster, firing a couple shots in the general direction of the shooter. Though Hunter's shots missed the target, they did get dangerously close to the shooter which caused them to cower behind the ledge once again.

The sergeant returned to his position behind the bed, thinking carefully about their next move. He knew that the shooter wasn't hiding anymore and had gotten back behind the scope. Then it suddenly clicked in Hunter's head: the shooter was watching for movement.

Formulating a plan, Hunter realized that he might actually be able to take his guy down if he played his cards right. He'd have to distract the shooter, fire his shot, and hope that the others reached him before he could get away. He knew what he had to do. He turned to face his brothers in the other room.

"Stay down," Hunter commanded them. They gave a nod.

Now, Hunter went to pull his vibe-blade out of his wrist holder. He reared back and tossed the blade into the other room. The blade was propelled forward and lodged itself into the wall on the far side.

Upon seeing the movement through the corner of their eye, the shooter quickly moved their scope to face the other room. Their eyes searched desperately for a target and their finger shifted to the trigger.

With the shooter distracted, Hunter rose to stand at his full height. He aimed his blaster and pulled the trigger to fire a single shot. The blaster shot managed to strike the shooter directly in the shoulder, sending them to the ground. A wave of relief washed over him.

A moment later, Wrecker and Echo burst through the rooftop door with their blasters drawn. They looked around the rooftop to survey the site. From the high-rise, Hunter watched his two brothers walk around cautiously. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Talk to me," Hunter asked them.

"That's just it," Wrecker replied. He shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "There is no one here."

The shooter had disappeared behind the ledge when the sergeant shot him, but he couldn't imagine him getting too far with his injury. He would have seen him stand up so he must have crawled away. It didn't make any sense.

"Search the place," Hunter ordered them. Echo knelt down by a small patch of blood on the ground. "He couldn't have gotten far."

Knowing Wrecker and Echo could handle themselves, Hunter decided to direct his attention back to the person he was assigned to protect. He saw that she hadn't moved from her position, laying on the glass riddled floor and propping herself up on her forearms. Her eyes twinkled with fear.

Approaching her, Hunter heard the glass breaking and cracking underneath his boots with each step taken. He knelt down beside her, knowing that she was feeling extremely uneasy. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder in hopes that it would bring her some comfort and calm her nerves. He also removed his helmet to set it down.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Hunter questioned.

"I-I'm fine," Y/n's voice quivered. She pulled herself into a sitting position with the sergeant making sure she didn't hurt herself on the glass.

For some reason, Senator Rayna couldn't seem to bring herself to look him in the eyes. She could feel her heart beating so loud in her chest that it was almost painful. She tried to use every muscle in her body to stifle a whimper from escaping her lips so she covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself. But the tears began swelling in the corners of her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. She was so overcome with emotions that she was falling apart.

"You don't have to be," Hunter reassured her. He stared down at her with the utmost sympathy behind his eyes.

Wrapping her arms around herself and drawing her legs to her chest, Senator Rayna began rocking back and forth subconsciously for comfort. Her head dropped down until her chin touched her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut just as the sobs began to rack over her body, causing her shoulders to shake violently.

Knowing words would bring little comfort, Hunter brought his arms around her body. He had one arm looped behind her backside and the other one slipped under the crook of her legs. He hoisted her body into his arms, rising to his feet in order to carry her. He went to turn around in his place and entered the other room.

"We can't stay here tonight," Hunter explained to them. "We'll go to the Marauder for now."

"We'll lead the way," Tech agreed with a firm nod of the head. He made sure to keep his blaster drawn just in case they ran into the assassin.

"Rendezvous at the Marauder," Crosshair spoke through the comm system for the others.

"Copy that," Echo replied. "No sign of our shooter."

As they made their way to the platform, Hunter glanced down at the weary senator in his arms. She had stopped crying, but her eyes were still red and shiny from her tears. Her head was resting against his solid chest plated armor and her hand was pressed against where his sternum would be. He readjusted her slightly in his arms, lifting her up a little more to take sure he wouldn't drop her.

With great caution, the Bad Batch made their way to the landing platform on the other side of the high rise. They secured the perimeter as well. The ramp lowered for them; they ascended into the ship's main hull. They made sure to secure the ramp behind them, locking them in for the night.

Entering the cockpit, Hunter brought the senator over to one of the chairs beside the control panel. He lowered her body into the seat as carefully as possible. He took a single step back away from her to allow his younger brother access to assess her.

Now Tech kneeled down right in front of the senator with a medkit in hand. He riffled through the box in attempts of finding the tools necessary for a thorough examination. When Tech lifted his head to look at the senator in front of him, he faltered slightly upon seeing her red eyes. He quickly rifled through the medkit again before retreating a single tissue.

Slowly, Tech offered the tissue to the senator which she gladly took to wipe her tears away. The other clones watched the interaction from a few steps away.

"I am going to perform an examination to take sure you are unharmed. Will that suffice?" Tech inquired. She nodded her head in agreement, but didn't look him in the eyes.

For a brief moment, Tech took his time looking over her body. He gently lifted each arm to inspect under it before switching to the other one. After checking every seeable part of her, Tech had come to a conclusion. He typed the data into his device.

"You are unscathed. I am surprised you weren't hurt from the glass," Tech noted. The senator's eyes slowly drifted up to the sergeant who sent her a small smile.

Carefully, Tech took hold of the senator's wrist. He pulled the sleeve of her nightgown back to reveal more skin on her wrist. He pressed two fingers there to feel her pulse. He waited a minute before recording his findings on his data pad once again.

"You're heart rate is rather fast," Tech concluded. "Understandingly though."

Reaching back into the medkit, Tech pulled out a small flashlight. He clicked the button the activate the light, raising it slightly to shine it in the senator's eyes. He hummed quietly to himself.

"Are you perhaps feeling dizzy or are you having trouble seeing?" Tech wondered. He put the flashlight back into the medkit.

"No," Y/n spoke softly. "Why?"

"Hunter says you hit your head," Tech stated. He recalled their brief conversation when they were walking back to the ship. It was the whole reason why Tech decided to do an examination in the first place. "I am merely making sure you don't have a concussion. Though we can monitor your vitals in the next couple days to see if any symptoms arise."

"Right," Y/n nodded.

"Everything appears to be in order. My only concern is the severe sleep deprivation," Tech explained. He saw the heavy bags under her eyes. "You need sleep."

"I-I don't know if I can. Not after that," Y/n tried to make them understand.

"You can sleep in my bed," Hunter offered. "I'll take the first watch."

"That will do nicely," Tech agreed.

After a few minutes, Hunter escorted the senator into the back room where all of their bunks resided. Luckily, Hunter's bed was the lowest one with Echo's bed directly above him and Tech's bed right above that one. He pulled the blankets away, which allowed the senator to crawl into bed.

Hesitantly, Senator Rayna laid down with her head resting on the pillow. Her sergeant brought the blankets up to cover her body, checking to make sure she was extra comfortable. It did feel nice to be in a bed even if it wasn't her own.

"Just try to get some sleep," Hunter requested. She nodded her head in agreement. He took a single step back. "We will be in the cockpit if you need us."

Just as Hunter turned to walk away, Senator Rayna sat up in the bed. She called his name frantically. He looked back at her expectantly, raising his eyebrows in question.

"T-Thank you," Y/n sputtered. "For saving me."

"Just doing my job, ma'am." Hunter stated professionally.

“Please,” Y/n spoke softly. She wanted to roll her eyes because she was so used to being addresses like that. “Let’s not worry about formalities.”

“Alright,” Hunter agreed with a curt nod. “Get some sleep, Y/n. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“Thank you.”

The door to the bunks slid open which granted him access to step into the cockpit. He left the room without another word. The door closed behind him and the bunks fell into a soft darkness.

Slowly, Senator Rayna proceeded to lay back down on the bed and pulled the covers up to her chest. Shifting to lay on her side, her head sunk into the soft pillow and her hand slipped under it for extra padding.

The sergeant's natural scent invaded her senses, bringing her an odd bit of comfort. It smelled rather woody, which was fitting for his personality. Even though the bed was stiff, the senator found herself drifting off to sleep and dreaming of the sergeant.

In a dark alleyway, the wounded assassin was resting his body against the wall. He nursed the wound inflicted to his shoulder, wincing in pain. The rag he used soaked up more blood and the stinging sensation grew with the smallest touch.

This particular person wasn't well known in the galaxy for bounty hunting because he was still new to the scene and was trying to make a name for himself. He pulled off a few jobs until he finally found someone who'd be willing to pay a hefty price for his services.

The first few attempts were orchestrated to instill fear into the senator with the enemy's desire ultimately being her resignation. However, Senator Rayna refused to step down from her position in the senate. She was stubborn after all.

The next attempt ended up taking the lives of her guards, which meant that she would be without protection. This made it the perfect opportunity to strike, but now, there was a new problem presented before the enemy.

Lazily, the mysterious man pocketed the dirty cloth and placed a bacta patch over it instead. A moment later, he proceeded to retrieve a device out of his pocket. He pressed a button on the side which ignited the familiar figure of Count Dooku.

"Is the deed done?" Count Dooku inquired with a cocked eyebrow.

"Afraid not," the assassin hissed from the pain in his shoulder. "She's got a new security detail with her now. A batch of clones like I've never seen before."

"A poor excuse for failure," Count claimed.

"You didn't see them. They're smarter, stronger. One of them protected her before the bomb detonated."

"Hmm," Count Dooku hummed to himself. He pondered carefully as if trying to understand what he was now up against. "How many are there?"

"Five, sir."

"This creates a unique dilemma," Count began. He stroked the beard on his chin in thought. "The senator is scheduled to present her at the end of the quarter. I had hoped to have her silenced before she'd be able to sway the senate's vote."

"I-I can take her out," the assassin reassured him; the eagerness to prove himself was the main thing driving him.

"No," Count Dooku shook his head in denial. "I will contact you when the time is right to strike. Until then, lay low and learn more about these clones."

"You have my word, Count Dooku."

CHAPTER FOUR HERE

Taglist:

@justhavingsomefun1 @totally-not-your-babe @jedipoodoo @gyllord @roam-rs @totallyunidentified @redheadgirl @mrcaptainrex @whore-of-many-hot-men @graciexmarvel @qweenrogerina @arcsimper5 @queenofspades6 @cadihyo @jediknightjana

[clonegirl99]

Meshurok - Chapter 10

“I’m hitting the anomalous locations she identified first,” Prudii said. “We’ll see if her intel is as good as it seems. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“K’oyacyi, vod. Oya!”

“Oya!”

Jaing and Mereel didn’t say anything for a few moments after Prudii signed off. They were used to parting. After being inseparable for most of their lives, they had seldom all been in the same place at the same time since before Geonosis. But that didn’t mean they liked it. Even though Kal’buir and their training had instilled a sense of confidence in the Nulls that went beyond the ramikadyc – commando mindset – of even the Alpha ARCs, they were not foolish enough to think themselves invincible. They were experts in their crafts and rode the chaos of war like a well-tuned speederbike. Still, the possibility of losing a Null brother was an unbearable but ever-present thought.

Mereel turned their unmarked speeder into the skylane that would take them to Sigi’s actual apartment.

“You’re heading out next.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to say something uncharacteristic now, Jaing, vod’ika, but I mean it - and not just because I’m starting to develop a crush on her. Either cut it off with Sigi now or make sure she knows how you feel before you leave.”

The “just in case” was implied.

He sat with the thought. He had known that he wasn’t going to be able to spend much time with Sigi before returning to the field, but it was never about one - or two, or three - nights of pleasure. He knew the stakes were higher, and not just because she was an asset. He felt something powerful and unique with her. She was like a sparkling jewel in the shifting sands and mud of his life, and he wanted to see every facet.

Ner meshurok. 

Jewels are precious not just because of their beauty, but their rarity, and millions had died over the centuries in search of such treasure. Others were driven mad in their monomaniacal pursuit. Still others wasted away from their covetousness.

“Kal’buir have anything to say about it?”

“He noticed. We all noticed,” Mereel laughed. “He wanted me to check on it. But she’s something different than I expected. We spoke for maybe five minutes via comlink when Kal’buir was bringing her to Corrie and it was clear that she’s a lot sharper than your average civvie. And has a good sense of humor. In person, though… She is quite the other thing.”

“That’s one way to say it.”

“I don’t think we can even call her just an asset after reviewing the intel she’s already handed over. That’s an ally. And a valuable one.”

“You’re concerned I’ll scare her off? Do something that alienates her?”

He looked at his brother but Mereel didn’t answer immediately, like he was choosing his words carefully.

“Or is it that I’m not worth waiting for and she’ll leave me?” His throat tightened as he said it.

“Both?” Mereel replied. “Neither? Though I wouldn’t phrase it that way.”

“How would you phrase it then?”

“I just don’t want to see either of you hurt, and this is risky – and that’s coming from me.”

He knew. He didn’t like thinking about it, but he knew.

“Look, if she becomes a vulnerability or your relationship compromises the mission – or if she hurts you, vod’ika – I’ll do what I have to. I won’t like it. But I will.”

“Yeah…” He watched the lights of the Entertainment District streaking by in silence for the rest of the ride.

Mereel slowed the speeder and brought it to rest on top of a transparisteel-sided tower. “Swanky,” he commented, looking around. “That said, vod, she’s great. You’re a lucky man. And, for what it’s worth, she shares your feelings.”

That made him feel giddy. “You think so?”

“Vod, it radiates off of her.”

“It feels good just to be around her,” he said softly.

“Even without the connection you two have,” Mereel agreed. “And now we’re about to learn a lot about her.”

Jaing stuck a dataspike into the security system port of the service entrance on the tower roof and frowned. He checked the maker’s logo on the side and shook his head. “This system has been modified. I should be in already.”

“Losing your touch, vod? It’s a standard commercial system.” Mereel peered over his shoulder. “You’re right…”

“Interesting…” Jaing muttered under his breath as he tapped at his datapad until, “There!” The door finally relented and opened with a whoosh. “Wonder what that’s about.”

“Dunno,” Mereel responded, pulling his blaster from its holster just in case. “Starting to think we should have just used the front door. You’re sure you didn’t set off any silent alarms or anything?”

“I’m offended that you’d even ask.”

They encountered the same issue when they reached the door to her level, with a different style of modification to the standard code than the previous lock.

“Who lives in this building that needs a security system that’s customized like this?” Jaing wondered aloud.

“Other than your spy girlfriend?”

“I don’t think she would like that term.”

“Which one? Spy or girlfriend?”

Jaing didn’t answer.

The door to her apartment was set in a wall covered in live plants, the occasional large-petaled white flower breaking up the greenery.

“Hidden camera?” Mereel mused.

“Almost certainly. We’ll need to wipe the system on the way out.” He tapped in the code Sigi had given him and they walked in.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think this was the decoy apartment.” Mereel holstered his blaster and looked around. “Your girl keeps a tidy home.”

She knew they were there and had told them where to find the things she wanted, but he still felt like he was intruding, not something he’d experienced any other time he’d broken into someone’s home. It was spotless, but he could smell her. It was faint – she hadn’t been there for a while – but it still evoked a sense of comfort and peace. He picked up a glass figurine of a lothwolf and studied it for a moment – what did it mean to her? -  before setting it down and heading toward the stairs to the second level.

“I don’t think we’ll have to worry about wiping the cameras,” Mereel called from where she said her office was. “It’s her personal system. She’s got all of this on a hardwired, closed network… The modifications on the security doors were hers too. We could have just asked for codes.” He laughed. “This is going to be a lot easier to harden than the other place.”

Jaing smiled.

That’s my girl…

He stepped into her bedroom and looked around. The floor-to-ceiling windows did look out onto a skylane and a lot of empty space, just as she’d said. She didn’t mention the rest of the view, though. He sank into an armchair across from her bed and gazed at the sky. He’d seen plenty of more beautiful sunsets, and Coruscant’s light pollution obscured any view of the stars at night but seeing the expanse of open sky from her bedroom, where the smell of her was strongest, felt symbolic and hopeful.

He would get to share that view – and the massive bed – with her when he returned from the Bakura Sector.

“This place is nice!” Mereel said from the doorway. “You planning your welcome home party?”

“Jealous?”

“Actually, yes. Not just the apartment. She has a collection of inert thermal detonators and a seismic charge shell, vod’ika. And that’s the kitchen of a woman who knows how to cook. That bed looks great too.” He wandered over to the ‘fresher. “And this bathtub!”

Jaing stood and made his way to the closet. With the exception of a pair of heavy-soled black leather boots – the ones she had asked for – and a sloppily folded scrap of white fabric sitting on top of the low chest of drawers – the nightgown she had requested - everything was organized and in its place. It made sense to him: with everything outside in such chaos, she had complete control here and didn’t have to look for anything. Luxury aside, it was practical, efficient.

Though she did have far more shoes than he thought entirely practical, all carefully displayed and organized by color. He picked up one particularly uncomfortable-looking shoe, puzzling at how anyone could possibly walk in them. He didn’t think this is what was meant by the Mandalorian proverb, “Ke ba'jurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya,” but he was certain he wouldn’t last ten minutes in those shoes.

Women were fascinating. Especially her.

He found a leather bag exactly where she said it would be, already packed with the toiletries and cosmetics she needed, just as she said it would be.

Mereel appeared behind him and whistled in minor amazement. “I think your girl might be a bit high maintenance, vod.”

“Maybe. But she just asked for those boots and some comfortable clothes,” he said, grabbing buttery soft pants and tunics from the drawer where she said they would be.

“Forgive me, vod.”

“What?”

Mereel pulled open the top drawer. “After the decoy apartment, I have to see.”

Jaing already knew Mereel would be disappointed but punched him anyway. “Besom. Who raised you?”

“Mama abandoned me on the doorstep of a mean old merc.” He frowned. “Well, this is not what I expected…”

Jaing pointedly grabbed a handful of the basics from the drawer and shoved them into the bag. “Why don’t you go get the other gear she asked for. I’ll finish here. Di’kut.”

Mereel raised his hands in front of him in mock surrender and backed out of the closet, leaving Jaing to finish packing.

The good stuff is in here…

He opened a standing cabinet and felt his jaw go slack. He picked up something composed entirely of thin black satin strips and gold buckles, absolutely baffled. When she told him to pick something that caught his eye, he was not expecting it to involve a puzzle out of a Jedi legend.

He rifled through the collection nervously, feeling like a massive, clumsy beast handling the delicates, some of which probably cost piles of credits, until he found a shimmery little… thing that felt like water between his fingers. He tossed it into the bag along with the items she’d requested, made a quick stop at the right-hand bedside table to fetch the round box from the drawer – exactly where she said it would be – and made his way back downstairs, eager to be back in the shabby little safehouse with his mirdala meshur’ika.

Next Chapter

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 1

A Clone Walks Into a Library

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged)

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: slight angst; mentions of canon character deaths; office politics are canon in the GFFA

A/N: Finally migrating this story over from AO3. I'll be posting a chapter on Tumblr every few days until I'm caught up, but if you'd like to read ahead, here's the link to the story up to chapter 8.

Summary: Clone medic Kix is a man displaced in time. Captured by Separatists and put into cryostasis when he learned the truth about the clones' inhibitor chips, he awakens fifty years after the end of the Clone Wars. The Republic is gone. The galaxy has changed. And now, the last clone trooper searches for answers with the help of a New Republic historian.

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Republic City, Hosnian Prime

32 ABY

The man gazed up at the imposing building in front of him, squinting against the harsh sunlight. The air was chilled despite the brightness of the day, and his breath swirled in clouds around him. He stood, seemingly oblivious to the pedestrians that bustled past as airspeeders whizzed through the skylane behind him. Few noticed the man, but those who did felt a strange sense of unease, of slight wrongness, as though he did not quite belong in the setting. Whether they observed this or not, the pedestrian traffic instinctively steered away from him, leaving a wide bubble of space around the stranger.

He stood, unmoving, for some time, locked in a silent debate with himself, until at length, he reached a decision. With a sharp nod, he walked into the building.

It was cold in the New Republic Galactic Library. Maree readjusted the shawl that she always kept in her office for mornings like this, then wrapped her hands around her mug of tea as she scrolled through the morning’s holomessages. Most of them were from colleagues complaining about the temperature. Most recently, the head maintenance droid had sent out a dispassionate mass response explaining that the sprawling complex’s central climate control had been automatically adjusted due to the spring equinox. Maree’s eyes lit with amusement as the indignant replies began to pop up in her inbox.

New Republic efficiency at its finest, she thought. Everything had to be automated. It didn’t matter that the outside temperature was still well below freezing; the equinox had passed, and so they were moved to the spring climate schedule. No doubt the decision had come from a droid that had no problem functioning in the cold. It would probably take weeks of complaints and committee meetings by the time the issue was resolved, and by that point, Republic City would likely be in the middle of a full and magnificent spring, rendering the problem null.

She nearly laughed as she skimmed through her messages and saw identical leave requests from two of the department’s interns who thought they were being subtle about their burgeoning romance. Ah, young love. Who was she to stand in the way? She quickly approved the requests, then moved on to carefully review the latest research directive from the New Republic Judiciary. Finally, she could longer put off reading the last message in her inbox. Despite herself, her heart began to beat a little faster as she opened the message. 

To: Dr. Maree R. Finnall From: NRGL Department of Outreach Subject: Decision on Expedition Proposal Submission Submission Number: ORE-R-72-00066T5 Dear Dr. Finnall, It is with great regret that we must inform you that your recent expedition proposal has been rejected. As you are aware, the current political climate in the Outer Rim is somewhat tenuous. . .

The message went on, but there was no need to finish reading it. Force knew she’d received it often enough to know what it said. Maree turned off the holoprojector with a small sigh. She took a sip of her tea and grimaced when she found it had gone cold. 

Taungsdays, am I right?

She crossed to her small kitchenette and dumped the tea down the sink. She briefly considered making another cup, but it would likely share its predecessor’s fate, so instead, she moved to gaze out the massive window. Glacial air flowed off the transparisteel, but the view was worth the discomfort. The early morning sun sparkled off the thick layer of frost covering Republic City, transforming it into a glittering wonderland. Beyond the city’s magnificent towers and spires, she glimpsed the deep azure of the western ocean.

I love it here, she reminded herself. It wasn’t exactly a punishment to stay on Hosnian Prime. Surely the benefits outweighed the disappointment of yet another rejected proposal.

The soft chime of her office door startled Maree out of her reverie.

“Come in,” she called.

The door slid open to reveal one of the library’s receptionists, Eidani Olphes. Maree didn’t know her well, but she passed the younger woman at the library’s front desk every morning when she arrived at work, and Maree always tried to be friendly with the support staff. She remembered her own early career when senior faculty were often dismissive and condescending, and she had vowed never to be the cause of anyone feeling so small and unimportant. 

“Good morning, Eidani,” she said with a warm smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Dr. Finnall, I have a gentleman here who is visiting Hosnian Prime to research the Clone Wars. Do you have any availability to meet with him this morning?”

Maree’s interest was piqued immediately. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten such a request from a private citizen.

“As a matter of fact, I’m free now,” she said. “Is he here?”

“Yes,” Eidani replied. “TJ-60 asked him to wait outside your office.”

Eidani fidgeted a little as she spoke, and Maree wondered if the man had made her uncomfortable. Maree commed her droid assistant, fully prepared to ban the visitor from the library if he had harassed the young Devaronian.

“Teejay, please show the gentleman into my office.”

“Right away, Dr. Finnall,” came Teejay’s monotone reply.

Maree heard the outer office door hiss open as Teejay directed the visitor to her office. Eidani turned around as soon as Teejay opened the door and watched his approach with a wide smile and undisguised interest. As the visitor walked into view, Maree realized she had misread the young receptionist’s reaction.

Force almighty.

Maree had never seen such a gorgeous man. He was tall and athletically built, with golden brown skin, curly black hair, and a neat beard. His nondescript clothing entirely failed to disguise his powerful frame, and he moved with the relaxed confidence of a man with absolutely nothing to prove. The beard emphasized his high cheekbones, but his eyes were the most arresting. They were a warm, luminous brown that reminded her of sunlight glinting through amber. Something about his face tugged at her memory, and she wracked her brain trying to remember if she’d met him before.

“Hello again,” Eidani giggled. “This is Dr. Finnall. She’s our Clone Wars expert.”

His solemn gaze flicked from Eidani to Maree, and she nearly blinked at the intensity in his eyes.

“Maree Finnall,” she said, shaking his hand. 

“Kix,” he replied.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kix.” 

“Just Kix,” he said.

He had a lovely voice, smoky and dark and beautifully accented, and Maree briefly wondered if he had any flaws at all. She hoped she had a better sabacc face than Eidani.

“My mistake,” she said. “Please call me Maree.”

“You specialize in the Clone Wars?” he asked.

 “To a degree. My scholarship focuses on the military history of the late Galactic Republic and early Imperial periods,” Maree clarified. “The Clone Wars are, of course, a major part of that era. How can I help you?” 

He glanced at Eidani, who was staring up at him with a worshipful expression.

“I, er—I’m looking for some fairly detailed information,” he hedged.

Maree took the hint.

“I see,” she said. “Please come in. Thank you, Eidani. I’ll notify the front desk if we need your assistance again.”

“Of—of course!” Eidani gushed. “Please let me know if you need anything. Anything at all!”

“We will keep that in mind,” Maree smiled.

She shot a meaningful glance at Teejay, who immediately began to usher Eidani out of the office. Maree closed her door and turned to Kix, who was looking around the room with interest.

“Nice office,” he said.

“Thank you. Please make yourself comfortable,” she replied, gesturing to the soft, padded armchairs that were strategically placed around the room. “May I offer you a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you,” he said. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” she said. “Let me know if you change your mind. For now, can you tell me what specific information you are looking for?”

He selected a chair that was oriented so that it faced both the window and the door of the office, she noticed. Maree’s mother was the same way; she hated the vulnerability of having her back to an opening. Mindful of Kix’s hypervigilance, Maree picked up her datapad and settled into a chair on his left, leaving plenty of space between them, as she prepared to take notes. From this angle, she could see the edge of a tattoo peeking out from his hairline. It looked like aurebesh, but his hair covered too much of it to be sure. It was intriguing, and she had a sudden and distinctly unprofessional urge to brush the hair away from his face and take a closer look.

“I’m interested in the late months of the wars,” he said. “Everything after the Battle of Anaxes.”

She tapped the information into her datapad. He observed her closely as she worked. She wasn’t accustomed to such scrutiny, and she found it slightly distracting. She felt a bit like a bug that was being dissected and studied.

“I can prepare an overview,” she said, “but that is still quite a broad area as there were so many simultaneous campaigns. Is there any particular battle or unit that I should focus on?”

“The 501st Legion,” he said in a clipped tone.

“General Skywalker’s legion. A fascinating unit,” she said. “Are you interested in their actions in the Imperial era as well, or only those preceding the fall of the Galactic Republic?”

“Both,” he said. “Is there a way to research individual soldiers in the battalion?”

“Yes, if you send me a list in advance,” she replied, “though it may take me a few days to compile the records. Will you be on Hosnian Prime long?”

“As long as it takes,” he said.

“I see. Perhaps we can meet on Primeday morning?” she suggested. “That should give me time to collect the combat reports at least, and once we’ve had a look at those, we might have a better idea of where to direct our research efforts.”

“What time on Primeday?” he asked.

“Any time you like,” she said. “I’ll have Teejay clear my schedule so I can be at your disposal all morning. I do have appointments in the afternoon that I won’t be able to reschedule, unfortunately.”

He looked startled. “Oh, I don’t want to take you away from your work for that long.”

“This is my work,” she said. “And I am delighted to meet someone who shares my interest in this particular field. Not many do. Consider yourself warned; you are far more likely to get tired of me than I am likely to run out of things to talk about.”

“I doubt that,” he said, meeting her eyes squarely. 

“Let me know if you still feel that way after I send you so many reports and articles that I crash your datapad,” she said.

He smiled for the first time since she’d met him, and it made him look younger and even more handsome, if such a thing were possible. She found herself smiling back at him even as she told herself not to indulge her interest. Not only was the man a client, but he was at least a decade younger than Maree—much closer to Eidani’s age, in fact. 

“I should forewarn you,” she said. “This period of history—it’s a difficult one. Most of the stories do not end well.”

“Trying to scare me off, Doc?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” she said. “I just want you to be prepared. There’s a reason most historians choose other periods to study. It’s a hard time to confront.”

“I understand,” he said, and something in his eyes told her that he truly did. “I will see you on Primeday.”

Kix exited the library feeling decidedly ambivalent. He stepped into the frigid air, which had failed to capture any heat from the bright sunshine during the time he’d spent inside the building. Still, he took a deep breath and felt the sting of it in his lungs.

He had been nervous when he entered the library. He’d spent over a year with Sidon Ithano and his crew, throwing himself into their skirmishes with a ruthlessness and ferocity that startled even the notorious pirate’s crew. But the violence failed to distract him from his own thoughts. He’d been consumed by grief and rage, overwhelmed by feelings of failure and guilt and the futility of everything he and his brothers had suffered and sacrificed. And worst of all, the knowledge that all of his brothers—every single one of them—were long dead. 

He had never felt so alone. 

Every time he looked in the mirror, his fallen brothers’ faces looked back at him. So he avoided mirrors as much as possible. Growing a beard helped disguise the resemblance, but he still couldn’t stand to meet his own eyes in the reflection. When he decided at last to uncover his brothers’ fates, the ship’s Twi’lek mechanic Reveth had warned him that nothing good would come from digging into the past.

“It ended bad,” she said. “I don’t think it could have ended worse. Don’t do this to yourself.”

They had been lying in bed. It hadn’t taken them long to seek each other’s company after Kix joined the crew. They both needed comfort—needed to forget. Just for a moment. He was haunted by his memories, and she by her hopeless, despairing love for the ship’s mysterious captain. They found oblivion in each other’s beds, but nothing more.

“I have to know,” he said, no longer able to bear the uncertainty. 

And so, he took a temporary leave from the Meson Martinet crew and traveled to Hosnian Prime in search of someone who could give him the answers he needed. The New Republic Information Bureau had directed him to the library, explaining that the facility maintained an extensive staff of archivists. At least one of them would surely be able to help, the information droid had assured him. When Kix had arrived at the entrance to the library’s vast structure, he’d hesitated, remembering Reveth’s warning before he’d departed the Meson Martinet three days earlier.

He’d shaken off the voice in his head, squared his shoulders, and gone inside. The pretty young Devaronian receptionist at the front desk hadn’t been able to answer his questions, but she had located an archivist who could, leading him through the labyrinthine facility with an ease that spoke of many such trips. She had been friendly and outgoing, peppering him with questions that left him tongue-tied, so he responded with mostly monosyllables or silence. His reticence did not seem to affect her at all—quite the opposite, in fact, and by the time she had located the archivist, she had escalated into full-blown flirtation. It had been a relief when the office droid had requested him to wait outside the office until the archivist was free to speak with him.

When he’d been admitted, he braced himself for another verbal onslaught, but the archivist was very different from the bubbly receptionist. She was older, for one thing. Her elaborate hairdo was threaded with silver, and a few fine lines crinkled around the corners of her eyes, evidence of decades of laughter. Her greeting had been friendly while maintaining a professional reserve, and he was struck by her low, melodic voice. 

And Maker, she was beautiful. Kix had found himself staring as she introduced herself, taking in the graceful contours of her face. She was dressed in elegant, flowing robes, and he had felt a moment’s self-consciousness about the shabby plainness of his own garb. But she had given him a kind smile, and despite the chilly air of the library, her small hands had been warm when she had clasped his in greeting. He clenched his fist lightly when she released him, trying in vain to hold onto that warmth. 

Her office was a comfortable, cozy room that seemed more like a home than a workplace—at least in Kix’s opinion, accustomed as he was the the harsh sterility of Kamino, the endless gray of the Republic Star Destroyers, and the chaotic violence of the battlefield. There was a large desk, which he had expected, and an assortment of soft, mismatched armchairs set around the room, which he had not. The expansive view from the enormous window naturally dominated the space, but she had decorated the room to suit her own taste as well. Several paintings hung on the walls, a few sculptures were tastefully displayed through the room, and there was a vase of fresh flowers on the desk. When she offered him tea, he noticed a small kitchenette, and he wondered exactly how much time she spent in this room. 

As she settled into the chair next to him and began discussing his request, he felt his anxiety spike again. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain his interest in the Clone Wars without giving away his identity. It was something of an open secret in the Outer Rim that Sidon Ithano traveled with a clone trooper—though there were those who insisted this was merely another rumor designed to fuel the Crimson Corsair’s intimidating reputation. In general, Kix kept to himself, and he was reluctant to disclose his origins to anyone, let alone a government representative. To his relief, she did not interrogate him about his motivations; instead, she directed her questions to how she could best assist his search. Her soft voice made him want to lean in closer when she spoke, and as they conversed, he felt his tension begin to disperse.

She had a way of drawing him into the conversation without pressuring him for personal details, and he deeply appreciated her tact. It was not easy for him to talk to people, whether they were strangers or friends. Not like it used to be. He was not the same man he’d been before the Separatists tortured him for information and shoved him into a cryo-cycle stasis pod. 

During the Clone Wars, he had been fun-loving and easygoing. He’d been popular with his fellow clones and with the civilians he encountered—in fact, the bubbly receptionist from the library would have been exactly the kind of partner he would have sought out during a night out at 79’s. And most importantly, he’d had a group of brothers who were his best friends. Hardcase; Tup; Jesse; and the Domino twins, Echo and Fives. They had fallen, one by one, replaced by shinies, until it was just him and Jesse left of the original group—and Captain Rex, of course. The best commanding officer a clone could have asked for, and the closest thing Kix had ever had to a father. 

Finding Echo alive had been a miracle, and it was entirely due to Rex’s instincts. But the man they had found on Skako Minor had been so different from the ARC trooper who’d been left for dead at the Citadel that he had felt there was no longer a place for him in the 501st, and so Kix had lost Echo a second time. That loss was what had pushed Kix to take up Fives’s investigation. What he had found had horrified him deeply. He had tried desperately to alert the Jedi to the sinister plot, but the Separatists had found him first.

And now, fifty-one years later, he was a stranger in a strange galaxy, begging an alluring historian to tell him how his brothers had died.

---

Chapter 2

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones

[our-end-is-so-near]

i was playing in skylan's VoW and catch the thought: this story could be something interesting. I ignored draconis' stories for quite a long time. No, I mean, it's true, I played them, but either because of illness or just boredom, I really ignored everything that happened in them. now i wanted something with this, but

the only thing to change - the place! i mean, we have esperia, yes, but technically afk arena lore let us use "this happened on another planet" thing. lutos, "dark stars realm" \ "void realm" (i don't remember official english translations for all of this terms and i don't want to google it coz fuck you) and demons are global things. can we just move most of the draconis somewhere else to develop their own stories? (i mean if this was another game i maybe is going to play in it! now, when i thought more about it: this is endless possibilities of planets and stories in the similar initial data. can i have more? can i create my own???)

and no need to lose touch with esperia, draconis could know dura and other celestials coz of honas for example (don't judge me, i'm bad at making it up as you go. but i hope you got the idea). yes, the story will be more cumbersome, but it's better to add more worlds than rewrite the existing one. we already have "another world" as dead nebula with two survivors, why can't we have planet?

the esperia's timeline already seems completely broken (someone plz kick Orthros, why isn't he doing anything) (it's a joke, ok? i love jokes about broken timelines and titans of time, they are my comfort characters) i wanted to write more about it but realize i finally found how to add draconis in my own AU without anything broken and don't want to waste my time and energy to translate my thoughts into english just to nobody even read all this. so bye

[wedriftlikelonelyplanets]

UPDATED WIP LIST

ALRIGHTY, BUCKLE UP MOTHERFUCKERS. Someone was asking about an updated WIP list earlier, so here it is!!

Sympathy is a Knife Verse - Charlando, Secret relationship

Ask Me Nicely From Your Knees - Lestappen, follow-up to NCITW/the aftercare fic

Untitled Landoscar fic - The next installment of the githhhw verse

Part two of I'm So Lonely and You're the Only One That Knows Me

I Hope it Eats Your Soul (I Hope You Choke Verse) - Landoscar, age-gap

One Last Ride on a Sunset Skylane - Lestappen, The Night Belongs to You verse

You Are All My Symmetry - Sebchal, The Night Belongs To You Verse

Girl Charles trophy wife fic - Lestappen endgame

The Lestappen Warped Tour Au - Self-explanatory

Small Talk, Big Love - Charlos BDSM/Divorce fic

Got This Angel Hypnotized - Lestappen, Vampire!Max cnc fic

Untitled OscarMark fic

I'm A Brat When I'm Bumping That - Lestapstri, Charles WDC fic in Winners Room vignettes between Max, Oscar and Charles

Leaving You Just When I Thought You Were Mine - Charlos non-traditional A/B/O dynamics fic

It should be known i'm not ACTIVELY working on all of these I'm just working through them (and adding more) slowly hahahaha.

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

I am Spidey swinging into your inbox to request beg for

the way their hair looks in the morning :')

with Rowan please 🥰

Sev!! darling!! thank you so much for this ask, I've been dying to write something for Rowan but haven't had the energy to pick what, so this was a perfect excuse to write for them <3 I hope you enjoy this and that it intensifies the brainrot for you as much as it has for me

Lazy Morning

Summary: You can't help but admire Rowan's morning hair.

Warnings: implied sexual content and as always this is an 18+ blog; so much fluff it's actually a little nauseating lmao; nb!oc x gn!reader; Rowan is actually so hot you guys oml

Word Count: 699

Weak sunlight streams through your large bedroom windows, slotting between the vertical blinds you forgot to fully close the night before. One beam settles perfectly across your face. Rising through the layers of sleep, you scrunch your eyes and, with a huff, turn your head in the opposite direction. You burrow back down into the warm, comforting sheets, eyes sliding shut once more. It’s your one day off this week, and you’d really like to spend most of it dozing in bed.

It seems, though, that the bustling skylane traffic beyond the windows has other thoughts. Now that you’re awake, your brain seems to latch onto any external stimuli: the way that whining speeder engine needs new belts before it explodes; the way the sunlight has left greenish after-images on the backs of your eyes; the faint, lingering scent of last night’s takeout; and, closer at hand, the soft breathing of the person in bed with you. 

At least that external stimulus is a pleasant one. Eyes fluttering open once you realize you’re not falling back asleep, your gaze lands upon your companion. Lover. Partner. Whatever you’re calling yourselves these days. Regardless of what you are, the warmth that settles deep in your chest has nothing to do with the slowly sliding ray of sunlight across your back. 

Rather, it has everything to do with how peaceful Rowan looks like this. Sheets pulled halfway up their back, you let your gaze roam the broad, tanned expanse, connecting freckles with your eyes like a child draws lines between the stars. Their toned arms both disappear underneath the pillow cradling their head. Though half their face is buried in the pillow, you can’t help the soft smile that caresses your lips as you study the way they look without all the worry lines. How much younger. How much happier. This close, you could count the freckles that dot their nose if you really wanted.

But what really draws your attention is their hair. You’ve always enjoyed their hair: big, fluffy, wavy locks that you wish they’d grow out if only so you had more material to run your fingers through. You’re not sure why, but this morning, all you can think about is doing exactly that. Maybe it’s the way that Rowan’s hair is currently sleep-tousled, not to mention sex-tousled, both of you having collapsed into bed after finishing last night. Maybe it’s the singular stubborn little curl that sticks out just behind their ear that you so love to fidget with. 

Or maybe it’s just the way your heart nearly bursts with affection for the Jedi Knight lying beside you, you of all people.

Your fingers nearly itch with the anticipation of feeling those silken, umber strands. Reaching gently, so as not to make too much movement and wake them, you brush a few strands out of their face. A sigh passes your lips at the comforting motion. 

Ivy green eyes flutter open to meet yours. Rowan smiles, dimples appearing on their cheeks.

“Morning,” they croak, voice scratchy with disuse. 

“Hey,” you say softly. 

“What you doin’?” they ask. 

Body flushing with embarrassed warmth, you start to withdraw your hand—but Rowan shifts, lifting their head so that your palm presses into the side of their face, and they hum with delight.

“Feels nice,” they murmur. “Go back to sleep, sweetness.” 

“Can’t,” you admit. “Too awake.” 

Rowan hums, the sound sending goosebumps over your skin. “Maybe I can help with that.” 

They roll onto their side and open their arms. Giggling, you curl yourself up within their embrace, their body heat searing into your back as they fold around you, playing the big spoon. Rowan presses a kiss to the crown of your head, then tucks you under their chin and wraps you up tight.

“That better?” they ask, voice edged with sleep. 

With a contented sigh, you let your eyes slip closed once again and nod. “Always better with you.” 

Rowan chuckles and tries to say, “I’ll remember that,” but a yawn draws their words out. 

You shush them gently, kissing the curve of their bicep. “Sleep.” 

“With pleasure.” 

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

[toschestationed]

Knockout: Ch. 19

Chapter Summary:

“The Chancellor will see you now,” The Chancellor’s secretary called, ushering General Skywalker and Jesse into the opulent office. Jesse took a slow inhale before following his General into the room. Standing a step behind and to the left with perfect military posture that Captain Rex would be proud of, he tried not to let the atmosphere overwhelm him.

Jesse and General Skywalker visit the Chancellor, but not all is as it seems...

Ch. 19: Good Soldiers

“The Chancellor will see you now,” The Chancellor’s secretary called, ushering General Skywalker and Jesse into the opulent office. Jesse took a slow inhale before following his General into the room. Standing a step behind and to the left with perfect military posture that Captain Rex would be proud of, he tried not to let the atmosphere overwhelm him. He’d stood in the Captain’s stead before, but this was a whole other thing, and Jesse had a moment to wish that he’d given his helmet one last once-over before the Chancellor was standing in front of them, in clothes that probably cost more than his entire platoon.

“Anakin, my boy! Always a pleasure to see you! Tell me, how was the conclusion of your last campaign? Last we met, I believe you were sharing your frustrations over General Kenobi’s resistance to your suggestions for the aerial battle. Was he more receptive to your insight on this campaign?”

The General and the Chancellor started to catch up on various pleasantries, the General barely remembering that Jesse existed now that they were in front of the Chancellor, and Jesse couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed, too distracted by the view. From here, he could see the Jedi temple, the GAR supply depot, and that one spire that marked the skylane leading to 79’s.

Looking out over everything, he couldn’t decide if it made him feel very big or very small… He wasn’t one for philosophy, though, so he busied himself with identifying different speeders and attempting to look like he was still paying attention.

It wasn’t until the Chancellor turned to him that he refocused on their conversation.

“And who might this be?” The Chancellor turned towards Jesse with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Jesse’s stance went impossibly straighter as Palpatine’s calculating gaze turned to him.

General Skywalker gave an eager smile, patting Jesse on the back as he made the introduction. “This is Lieutenant Jesse, one of the best and brightest of the 501st Legion. I couldn’t find Captain Rex when I went to invite him to our meeting, but I told Jesse here that he was more than welcome to join.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” Jesse said, giving the Chancellor a firm salute, masking his own hesitance.

“And you, Lieutenant. It is always a pleasure to meet some of our fine troops, even if your Captain wasn’t able to attend.” The corners of the Chancellor’s mouth tightened as his smile shifted into more of a grimace.

Most people wouldn’t catch the difference, but for a clone— clones who spent their entire lives looking for the smallest microexpressions and minute differences between themselves and a million others— the difference was glaring, and Jesse got the sense that he was decidedly unwelcome. He was starting to realize why Rex always had an excuse to avoid meetings with the Chancellor.

“And how is the Captain? I admit, it is strange that he did not make you aware of his plans. One would think that a trooper with so many commendations would know the importance of alerting his superior officer before becoming unavailable.”

Palpatine’s voice was dangerously light, and Jesse felt his shoulders draw up around him at the veiled dig, even as General Skywalker responded with an easy tone. “Captain Rex is a good man. I trust him to alert me to issues when he decides it’s necessary.”

‘You can’t talk about Captain Rex like that!’ Jesse thought furiously, gritting his teeth to keep from shouting those words. But he couldn’t exactly punch the Supreme Chancellor of the Grand Republic in the face, so with great reluctance, he pushed down the urge to do so.

“I also wanted to give you my condolences for your troopers who were lost on Kamino— truly an unfortunate tragedy. I understand that several of them had been with you for a long time. Containment breaches are terrible things— especially with the viruses the Kaminoans were developing immunizations against. Paranoia, febrile hallucinations,” Palpatine shuddered before continuing. “It must have been horrendous to experience.”

“What?! What happened on Kamino? Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?” Anakin exclaimed, looking distraught. Sure, he could be a little difficult to contact during shore leave sometimes, but he cared about his men, and tried to stay up-to-date, especially when it came to casualty reports.

The Chancellor covered his mouth, looking briefly horrified. “Oh dear. I had thought that the Jedi would have already notified you— After all, it was your men who were impacted most heavily, other than those already stationed on Kamino, although I heard that there were one or two cases in the 104th as well.”

The Chancellor went on, tone apologetic as he continued to recount the details of what he heard, although it wasn’t much, given that he was a “very busy man,” but Jesse was too focused on the pit in his stomach, internally reeling at the news they’d been given.

He felt like the ground had dropped out from under him as he desperately tried to remember the last time he’d heard from Kix and Hardcase– or any of them, for that matter. He’d always thought that he’d go first, or that it’d be on a battlefield, not Kamino of all places! He’d assumed that Rex had been in-contact with them— he’d need to be, in order to know where to meet their shuttle. But the Captain had been off-the-grid for a while himself at this point, and if the entire squad had supposedly died back on Kamino, where was he?

The General seemed to come to the same conclusion as he turned to Jesse, tone sharp with questions. “Jesse, didn’t you say you were waiting for Captain Rex to return with your batchmates, after they got back from Kamino?”

“A-As far as I know, sir. I haven’t seen him since yesterday, but I think he went to the GAR’s main landing pad to wait for their arrival. I was under the impression that he’d received a comm from them pretty recently, too. When did this containment breach happen, sir, if I might ask? Maybe it’s a clerical error– or someone from another battalion?” Jesse responded, internally pleading for that to be the case.

He refused to believe his batchmates were gone until he saw concrete proof. And if finding Rex could help them figure out if his batchers were still alive, then– he’d do whatever it took.

So busy with his own reaction, Jesse missed the hint of suspicion that flashed through the Chancellor’s eyes before it was covered, once again, with sickly-sweet concern. “From what I understand, the disease caused extreme paranoia and hallucinations, and a couple troopers attempted to contact other battalions before they were properly contained. I am afraid we may need to provide additional medical aid to the affected battalions, until the crisis has passed. If your Captain has had any contact with the affected troopers, I would advise caution in approaching him.”

“You don’t think Rex got caught up in all this, do you?” General Skywalker asked, worried.

“I wouldn’t profess to know,” Chancellor Palpatine responded. “As far as I know, the illness was contained on Kamino, but if your Captain has had any contact with the troopers who were on-planet, it would be vital to locate him immediately, and with great caution. I couldn’t tell you the dangers of bringing such a terrible disease to a planet as large as Coruscant.”

The Chancellor paused, looking troubled, before his eyes lit with an idea, and Jesse couldn’t help but feel unsettled despite the offer of help.

“If you would prefer, I could even notify the Coruscant Guard to be on the lookout for the dear captain. I wouldn’t normally go this far, but I want to ensure that this situation is properly dealt with, especially because it concerns troopers so close to you, my boy.” At that, the Chancellor smiled at General Skywalker, and the unsettled feeling in Jesse’s gut deepened, even as General Skywalker sighed in relief.

“Thank you, Chancellor. I appreciate it. The sooner we can get this situation under control, we can figure out what happened with my troopers. I’ll notify the rest of the men to be on the lookout as well.” General Skywalker nodded, standing up to leave.

Jesse turned to follow him, only to be stopped by a kindly voice that made his hair stand on-end for reasons he couldn’t explain. “If it’s alright, my boy, I’d like to have a word with the Lieutenant. It shouldn’t be more than a moment.”

Posture straightening even more, Jesse gave the General a nod to go ahead even as Skywalker was already heading out the door. “It’s alright, General. I’ll catch up with you.”

“Good. Stay in touch, and let me know if you hear anything.”

“Sir, yes sir!” Jesse saluted, and it wasn’t long before the door slid closed with a pressurized hiss and he was alone with the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic and the room was enveloped in silence.

“...You wanted to speak with me, sir?” Jesse started to ask, but before he could even fully turn to face the Chancellor, he heard him start to speak. He only heard the first two words before his vision faded to black.

“Execute Order–”

———————————————

Placidly receiving his orders, CT-5597 gave the Chancellor a final salute before returning to the GAR main barracks, intent on searching for his target. The Captain of the 501st would be difficult to track down if he had truly gone rogue, potentially violating security protocols and presenting a clear and present danger to the safety of the Republic, but CT-5597 was there to make sure that wouldn't happen. After all, good soldiers followed orders.

_____________________________

AO3 Link:

[driftnoob3]

Done some time agó, but specs redone now.

Springtrap's Nissan Skylane GTR V-Spec R33:

Color: custom saten militar green/ custom side stripe (blood red, brown and silver)

Exterior: HRE 501 wheels (3p/all brown), Nismo 400r front and side bumpers, custom vented hood, rear bumper ripped off and changed for Springtrap's made rear bar kit (polished metal/blood red sprayed), East Bear Sports mirrors, wing blade and side caps painted in silver, custom titanium exhaust.

Interior: stripped out carpet, doors and side pannels and roof carpet, Recaro baket seats, 6 point racing harness, Sparco MOD 345 3R calice 65MM MSN steering wheel, 70% dark tinted windows.

Mecanics: rebuilt RB26DETT engine with 450hp, increased turbo boost, HKS intercooler, HKS air filter, Eibach suspensión, Brembo racing brakes (red calipier), Springtrap made custom vented brake discs.

I like the idea of this car with things done by Springtrap itself, as I see him like a person who likes and knows about technology and robotics, with just the thing of independence on his car maintenance, and doing easy modifications by itself like the brake discs and the rear bar kit.

From all of this car desings... I thought... I can do an au... Maybe... Maybe...

[lithiumwolff]

muse: Faye Skylaner (Phoebe Tonkin). 25. bisexual. she/her. therapist.

plot: Faye has reoccurring nightmares and asked your muse to comfort her / stay the night.

open to m/f

Faye was in a sleep walking trance . She thought she was awake, fear in her chest. Grabbing a sharp object she started to speak, "Stay away from me. Please don't hurt me." It was than she woke up still holding the sharp object. Her hand nearly slipped seeing the other person in front of her. "I could have killed you!..." Faye immediately dropped it and had a panic in her face. "I didn't mean to...was I sleep walking?!"

[keztis]

@d4gangera 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 :: without the splendid nature of robes he recognized as a second skin, there is a nagging sensation of vulnerability. sleeve once neatly tucked is crudely tied, the ball of fabric swings uncomfortably, but he says little in regards to it. the nature of trying to remain tucked into the ebb and flow of midday traffic. the sheer number of bodies makes his skin crawl to some regard, and while dagan can sense the bristle of cal's existence like leering sunshine overhead, the (former ? reformed ? the white-crystal'd saber tucked under layers subtracts a certain level of clarity there) jedi opts to lay gloveless hand against the small of cal's back before fingers wrap loose in the fabric of jacket, icy stare set before them as jaw remains clenched. " i do not like this, " dagan's tone is low, his fingers tighten only slightly in fabric, " there are far too many bodies here, too much risk. "

                𝙲𝙾𝚁𝚄𝚂𝙲𝙰𝙽𝚃  𝙷𝙰𝙳  𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝙳  𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴  𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙴  𝙷𝙸𝚂  𝙻𝙰𝚂𝚃  𝚅𝙸𝚂𝙸𝚃—𝙸𝙵  𝙸𝚃  𝙷𝙰𝙳  𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝙳  𝙰𝚃  𝙰𝙻𝙻. the ecumenopolis remained a layered maze of industry and excess, its lower levels smothered beneath the weight of those towering above.  the air was thick with sweat and exhaust, a dense haze of pollution settling into restless streets.  pedestrians hurried along, a faceless tide of movement, while speeders wove through the ordered chaos of the skylanes.  every few moments, a floating holoprojector paddled past, spewing imperial propaganda in stark, impersonal tones—warnings of law and order, of swift consequences for those who defied them.  

a burst of artificial light flared ahead, the garish glow of an oversized holoscreen drowning the street in neon colors.  kestis narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the aurebesh text when a sudden warmth pressed against his lower back.  the touch was firm, unexpected—and not BD-1, who knew to stay tucked inside the knapsack slung over his shoulder.  for a split second, his shoulders tensed, hand already hovering near his saber.

" i do not like this, " dagan's tone is low, his fingers tighten only slightly in fabric, " there are far too many bodies here, too much risk. "

the young knight exhaled, easing the reflexive coil in his limbs as recognition settled in.  turning slightly, he caught the older man’s expression—taut, wary.  there was something unreadable in his eyes, a glint of distress he had yet to voice.  was it the crowd?  the sheer press of bodies in every direction? the subsequent thought almost made cal scoff at himself.  of course, it was the crowd.

dagan gera had spent two centuries in isolation, trapped in bacta, lost to time.  even if coruscant’s skyline had remained unchanged, the experience of civilization—of sound, movement, and overwhelming presence—couldn’t be anything less than unnerving. for a man who had spent entire lifetimes in silence, the noise of the present was no doubt deafening at this point.

cal bit his lip and didn’t stop to analyze the moment.  he acted, guided by an instinct that was as familiar as breath and blood, and slowed his pace enough to ensure dagan wouldn’t have to grip him so tightly, and yield space without leaving the man adrift in the shifting currents of the street.  bodies surged around them, a chaotic undulation, and cal adjusted his position without a word, placing himself between dagan and the densest part of the swarm.  subtle but deliberate.

he cast a glance at the older jedi, tendering a heartening smile.  ❝just focus on me, alright?  we’ll get through this together.❞  an unexpected flutter tugged in his gut—an odd sensation—or a stupid one, really; he wasn’t the one struggling under the mental weight of two centuries of isolation.

                 ❝yeah, i’m not a fan of crowds, either.  too many people, too many chances for something to go wrong. . . ❞  a pause, long enough for the statement to settle.  then, with a teasing lilt, softer now: ❝didn’t think you’d be the one clinging to me, though.❞

[cfsjetsnc]

Reasons To Hire a Private Jet Broker

The thought of investing in a jet is not far-fetched today. On the contrary, many busy business owners and groups are interested in investing in the best personal aircraft. It is not surprising to know that the market has opened up lately, with new and used aircraft being sold daily. The buyer is spoilt for choice when selecting the right private jet or any other type of aircraft. The top contenders have a lot of pros, with the negatives being primarily overshadowed. It is advisable to contact an experienced aviation broker to ensure a good buy. ​ It helps to know that a personal aircraft is smaller than a commercial aircraft and may seat 1 to 6 people comfortably, including the pilot. Such aircraft are sourced and used for the following purposes:

· For Leisure · As a Hobby · For Business Trips · For Flight Training

The specs vary widely between the popular models used for personal use. Some of the aircraft that deserve to be considered by the prospective investor must include the following: -

Cessna The name Cessna has become synonymous with easy flying experience and safety plus comfort, making it the first choice for multiple investors. The best buys include:

Cessna 182 Skylane- Its incredible versatility and reliability make it an excellent investment for beginners. It provides a comfortable flying experience for pilots eager to train safely and explore the skies.

Cessna 172 Skyhawk- This is also a four-seater and appropriate for small groups or families who hope to fly to their destination in privacy. This aircraft is always in demand for both short trips and cross-country flying.

Cessna 206 Turbo Stationair HD—This craft has a turbocharged engine and can comfortably seat 6 passengers. All users have hailed the performance, and the smooth ride deserves special mention.

The Citation models from Cessna are also top-rated, with the following being requested by individuals hoping to invest in a pre-owned model first. Most of them are slightly larger and can seat more than six passengers. The avionics and cabin furnishings are a trifle more luxurious too.

· 2001 Citation CJ1 · 1998 Citation Jet · 2004 Citation Sovereign · 2007 CJ3

Beechcraft This is a great aircraft noted for its speed and performance. The comfort and reliability factors are top-notch as well. Some of the best-selling models include the following: -

· 2002 Hawker 800XP- The seating space is spruced up to make it perfect for an executive team or busy corporates desirous of holding meetings inside.

· 1970 King Air B90- The interior is professional, with leather insets and comfortable carpets. It is capable of seating six passengers.

· 2012 Beechcraft King Air- This is an 8-seater with a flushing toilet and LED lighting with executive configuration. This model can fly in all weather and has high performance and speed.

There are many more famed brands in competition. The user needs to contemplate all the requirements and choose wisely.

It is essential to hire the services of a seasoned private jet broker to understand how a particular aircraft fulfills the requirements. 

[clonegirl99]

Meshurok - Chapter 9

Jaing felt his face grow hot. “How long have you been sitting there?”

Mereel chuckled and pulled a large, fluffy towel from one of the bags at his feet and tossed it to his brother. “Long enough to know she’ll probably want something better than the osik’la towels we had the last time I was here.”

Jaing grabbed the bag of Sigi’s clothes and glared at him as he whacked the door control panel with his fist.

Sigi was biting back laughter when he opened the ‘fresher doors. “Um…”

“I’m sorry, Sig’ika. Mereel was raised by rancors.”

She started giggling and grabbed his arm to hold herself up. “Kriffing hells, Jaing.” Her giggles turned into snorts and sputters until spilling over into full throated cackles. She collapsed against his chest, shaking with laughter.

That was unexpected…

He placed her duffel bag on the sink and held up the new towel, a bit annoyed that Mereel was the one who brought it but taking satisfaction in being the one wrapping it around her soft curves.

She dropped the old towel to the floor and kissed his cheek. “As long as it’s just him and not your buir…”

The mere thought…

“I’ll deal with him while you get dressed.”

He pulled his crumpled clothes on, took a deep breath, and stepped back into the living area.

Mereel had opened the window shutters and was standing in the little galley kitchenette, washing dishes as he pulled them from a bag on the counter. A small bouquet of Tellanadan moonflowers had been placed in the middle of the table.

“I’ll tell her the flowers were your idea. Tried to give you some extra time but apparently not enough.” He smirked. “Respect, ner vod. Sounds like she enjoyed herself as much as you did.”

“If you say anything even slightly inappropriate to her, ori’haat, ner vod, I will personally cut off your gett’se and make you eat them.”

“Udesii, Jaing’ika. Ni jurkadi ti gar. Ni nu’cuyi akaa’naryc besom. Kaysh ori’jaon’yc. Bal ni kar’tayl gar guuro kaysh. Bal – haran – kaysh mesh’la.”Mereel raised his chin, directing Jaing’s attention toward the bedroom, and he realized why his brother had switched to Mando’a.

Sigi stood in the bedroom doorway, a bemused look on her face, wearing baggy gray pants and a tight, cropped, sleeveless top that displayed both her fitness and her unbandaged injuries.

“Su’cuy, Mer’ika. Me’vaar ti gar?” 

It was Mereel’s turn to blush. “I didn’t know you spoke Mando’a…”

 “I don’t, really.” She laughed and walked into the room. “But I do know what that last bit was. You’re not too hard on the eyes yourself. Not as handsome as your brother, though.” She winked and kissed Jaing on the cheek. “You bring breakfast? I smell something tasty.”

Mereel took a moment to recover. “Um. Yeah. Got some proper dishes for you too.” He sounded almost apologetic.

“Very thoughtful. Thank you. For the towel as well. This place wasn’t very well provisioned – not that I’m not grateful.”

She peeked playfully down into a bag labeled with the logo of a Chandrillan restaurant.

“That little spot near your apartment. Thought a bit of home would be nice while you’re here.” Mereel had recovered from his embarrassment.

“Never heard of it,” she shrugged. “But it smells great.”

“It’s right next to the building entrance on the same level your apartment is on. You’ve really never noticed? You can look down on the patio from your bedroom window…”

She snorted. “The view from my bedroom window is a skylane and a loooong drop,” she said, quite proud of herself. “That was not my apartment. These – “ she spread her arms and turned in a circle “ – are not my clothes.” She giggled and did a little dance.

“What? That was the address in your file. Your name is on the lease. The rent is paid from your bank account…”

“Well, it’s paid from an account under the name ‘Sigi Zala’, sure. But nope. Not my place.”

“You have a decoy apartment?” Jaing asked.

“Yup.”

“Completely decorated,” Mereel said to Jaing. “Closet full of clothes. Food in the conservator…”

She giggled again.

“Wait,” Jaing said and turned to Mereel. “What did Ordo find in the top dresser drawer, then?”

She was crying with laughter now. “Oh, oh, that is… Straight-laced Ordo who gets flustered over mildly dirty jokes found that?” She doubled over and grabbed Jaing’s arm to steady herself.

Mereel was smiling now too. “I appreciate the attention to detail, but that is a very specific…” He let loose a laugh. “Poor Ord’ika.”

Jaing looked at them in turn. “What the kriff was in the top drawer?”

She calmed her giggles. “Just a little collection of surprises. Anyone who let themselves into ‘my’ apartment and went through ‘my’ things deserves to be disturbed.”

“Her blaster. And a Wookiee dildo,” Mereel said. “A vibrating Wookiee dildo and some kind of Mon Cal-looking… thing.” He looked at her, shaking his head. “I thought you were a freak, burc’ika. Turns out you’re just a bit twisted. I like you.”

“Oh, I am a freak, don’t get me wrong. But did you really think I would have a blaster this weak?” She pulled a Gee-Tech pistol from a pocket. “This model is only a step above their trash microblasters.”

“That’s a relief,” Mereel laughed. “Ord’ika and I were absolutely horrified and had a lengthy discussion about properly arming you.”

“Oh, I think I’m okay on that front, my friend. I do appreciate you thinking to bring this to me, though.”

The brothers looked at one another, interest piqued.

“What do you carry, then?” Jaing asked, realizing he hadn’t once thought about her personal self-defense. She wasn't in any danger, because he was right there with her.

“You didn’t look in my ruck?”

“I didn’t think it would be appropriate.”

She sauntered over to where her bag lay and made a show of blocking their view as she removed the blaster from her bag and checked that it was unloaded, the sound of which was similar to one the Nulls all knew fondly.

Sigi spun around and proudly displayed a highly customized Verpine shatter gun. “I couldn’t ditch it after the incident on Bonadan. Slugthrowers are common enough there and Kal said only the bastard who winged me that day had a traditional blaster, so I got to keep my baby. Her name is Aldhiyb.”

Mereel’s face lit up. “Kandosii’la, ad’ika!” He crossed the room in three strides. “May I?”

She handed him the blaster carefully. “Be careful. I had it reinforced, but they’re still not as resistant to damage as those BlasTech clunkers they give you boys.”

“I’ll have you know, cyar’ika, that the vode and I carry customized kit,” Jaing said as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. He thought she was sexy before…

She kissed him on the cheek before spinning out of his arms. “While you two drool over my blaster, I’m going to start eating. I’m starving and could really use some caf.”

Mereel looked up from the blaster and gave Jaing a meaningful look.

“I know.” He smirked. He usually wouldn’t enjoy the jealousy, by Mereel had women in every system.

“Shab, vod’ika, if you change your mind about her, I’m stepping in,” Mereel whispered.

“Usen'ye,” Jaing responded through gritted teeth.

“Oh, c’mon, vod, you’ve never had issues with sharing before.”

“That was one time.”

“A good time, though, even if I had to see your naked shebs. You can’t deny that.”

He couldn’t.

“Come on, boys,” Sigi called from the table. “Let’s eat and get to work. And then maybe someone can go get some clothes from my actual apartment.”

Mereel winked at his brother. “Think about it.”

Next Chapter