#Fixer x reader

[mutilatemyheart]

Heart on the Floor Summary: Sev sees everything, and he knows about your crush on Fixer. Warnings: I don't think any Pairing: Future Fixer x reader. Word Count: 798

The mess hall is fairly quiet when you find a seat tucked away from the others. You still haven’t fully gotten used to being here full time. The room the GAR gave you to stay in while your apartment is being renovated is tiny. You’re grateful they’re letting you stay, but you miss the luxury of having a space that is wholly yours. Your heart aches at the thought that the men around you have never known what that’s like. In a lot of ways, it must be nice to be surrounded by your brothers, but you wonder if they ever wish they had their own personal space to be alone.

A shadow comes over you, blocking the light. You turn your head and look up into the glowing t-visor of Delta Squad’s sniper. Sev is imposing in his fatigues, but he’s outright frightening in his armor. You glance around him to focus on any other member of the squad, but he’s alone.

He pops the seal of his helmet and pulls it off. “You got a second?”

You nod, ignoring your breakfast completely. They were supposed to already be gone on their way to wherever they were being sent, so why is Sev swinging his foot over the bench you’re on and leaning close to you?

“Is everything alright?” You ask. You sound nervous even to yourself.

He stares at you a moment, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to think of how to word the thoughts in his head or if he’s purposefully drawing this out.

“I see everything, you know?” he tells you. “I don’t miss anything.”

His eyes never leave yours, and you’re not sure what to say. The intensity on his face and the posture of his body reminds you of police interrogations you’ve seen in holofilms.

“Okay,” you say, shifting in your seat. “That’s…good? I bet that comes in handy with you being a sniper.”

He deflates with a sigh. That was clearly not what he wanted you to say.

“I saw your eyes light up.” He gives you a look like those words should trigger the conversation he’s really wanting to have. You stare at him blankly. He frowns. “Your eyes light up every time you see Fixer. What’s your plan there?”

Your eyebrows shoot up in shock. Is he really implying what you think he is?

“My plan?” You question. “Sev, I don’t even know what you’re talking about. My plan for what?”

A low, irritated growl leaves his throat. This is not going how he wanted it to, but he doesn’t seem to know how to get it through to you fully. He drums his fingers against the top of the table and glances around the mess hall.

“I know you’ve got it bad for Fixer. Scorch sees it, too. Are you going to act on it?”

So much for implying it. Sure, you’ve been increasingly more interested in Fixer, but you didn’t know you had been so obvious. How long have they known? Does Fixer know? Does he want you to act on it? Would it even matter if you did? Fixer had never acted like he was interested in a relationship when he was around you. Have you missed the signs?

“Sev, I don’t… I don’t know what to say. No, I don’t have a plan. Has he said anything about this?” You ask, searching Sev’s face for any clues he may leave unsaid.

“He-”

Whatever he’s going to say is cut off by the noise of his comlink going off.

“Sev, where are you? We should already be on the ship,” Boss’s disembodied voice says. He sounds annoyed.

Sev stands up and grabs his helmet off the table. “On my way. I’ll meet you at the hanger in a moment.”

“Now, Oh-Seven. We’re running late as it is.”

Sev’s eyes meet yours at Fixer’s words. He gives you a smug smile when you glance at the comlink on his gauntlet as if you would actually see his brother.

“On my way,” he says again. He looks back to you. “You have some time to work on that plan. Just don’t drop his heart on the floor because I’d hate to rip yours out.”

You know he’s not serious…or you hope he’s not serious, but he delivers it stone-faced. He doesn’t say goodbye as he walks away from you and your breakfast that’s beginning to grow cold. Not that you’re exactly hungry anymore. Maybe you should talk to Fixer about this. Maybe you should work on a plan to voice your feelings to him. You’re not sure how long they’ll be gone, but a sinking feeling in your gut tells you that their time away from Coruscant is going to feel a lot longer this time.

[vodika-vibes]

can I request acacia and purple lilac with fixer? maybe some fluff with a jedi reader who thinks someone so brisk and no-nonsense as fixer could never want a naive jedi who's so unsure of herself, but she doesn't realize the rest of delta squad can see how obvious her "secret" affection is, and are all rooting for her? hope that's not to o much detail. :^) have fun!!!

On Your Order

Summary: You've been in love with Fixer for a while, but think he doesn't feel the same.

Pairing: Clone Commando Fixer x F!JediReader

Prompt: Acacia - Secret love, Purple Lilac - First Love

Word Count: 1565

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, full disclosure, I woke up with awful vertigo this morning, so I'm surprised I was able to write anything at all. Sadly, I no longer have vertigo medicine. Anyway, I hope this is close to what you wanted!

You’ve never been in love before.

At least, if you have, it’s never felt like this before.

It’s never felt so real.

You rest your chin on your folded arms as you watch the men from Delta walk around the ship, preparing for the upcoming mission. Your gaze jumps from Scorch, who’s checking his weapons, and then over to Sev, who’s polishing his armor, and then finally your gaze lands on Fixer, who is reading over the mission brief again.

You love Fixer.

You do.

He’s so serious and stern and no-nonsense. And he follows all of the rules to the letter.

And you love him anyway.

It’s embarrassing.

It’s pathetic.

Even if Fixer didn’t follow all of the rules all of the time, he still wouldn’t be interested in you. You know this. You’re too jedi. Too naive. Too self-conscious.

A hand lands between your shoulder blades, and Boss leans over you, “You’re staring.”

“I’m thinking.” You reply.

“Hm, about Fixer?” Boss asks as he slides into the seat next to you.

You scowl at him, “Just in general,” You finally say as you turn to look at him, “We’ll be landing soon, I’m guessing.”

“Soonish.” He gazes at you thoughtfully, “You know we’re all on your side, right?”

“I’m sorry?”

“We,” He motions to himself, Scorch, and Sev, “Think that you’d be good for Fixer. So we’re rooting for you.”

You blink at him, twice, and then turn to bury your face in your arms, “Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah, just a bit.”

“Ugh…how humiliating.”

“It’s cute.”

“Please stop talking.” You say quietly, and then you lift your head when the ship makes a noise, announcing your arrival on the planet, “Ah. Time for work.”

“So it would seem.”

You get to your feet and walk over to the side door, pressing the button to slide the door open. And then you crouch near the exit, “That’s a lot of droids,”

“There’s no way we can land here.” Fixer says, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, to offer you support.

“Yeah, but this is the only way in,” Scorch points out, “It’s not like there’s a back entrance.”

“We can make one.” Sev says, “Enough explosives-”

“Bad idea,” Boss interrupts, he turns his gaze towards you, “Suggestions.”

“Land the ship further back, you’ll just have to walk a little more.” You finally say as you stand and pull your saber into your hands.

“What about you?” Scorch asks with a small frown.

“I’m going out there.” You reply as you toss your outer robe over a chair, “I’ll clear some space for you all.”

“It’s too dangerous.” Fixer counters.

“More dangerous than leaving our vulnerable drop ship open to enemy fire?” You ask with a pointed look at Fixer, “I realize that you think I’m incompetent,” And wow, it hurts to finally say that outloud, “But I was assigned as your Jedi for a reason.”

Fixer blinks, “Wha-? I don’t think you’re incompetent-”

“Now is not the time,” Boss barks, “General, go. Be careful. We’ll catch up when we can.”

You nod at him, and flash a small smile, “Happy hunting, boys.” And then you jump out of the ship. You use the force so slow your descent and you light your sabers before you hit the ground.

You hear the ship fly off, and you settle yourself in the force.

It’s just you now. You and the force, and what seems like half a million droids.

Pity.

If they wanted to win they would have sent more droids.

Fixer grips his blaster tightly, anxiety and worry making him more tense than usual.

He can’t get her words out of his mind. “I realize you think I’m incompetent.” She said before jumping out of the ship to fight an army on her own.

She can’t possibly think that he thinks that, right?

And if she does, what does that say about how he’s been treating her?

He’s been nothing but respectful towards her. And he does respect her. He respects the hell out of her. And more.

Fixer isn’t the type of man to lie to himself, and he’s not going to start now. 

He knows that his eyes drift to her during downtime. How he watches her hair sway when she walks. How he stands closer to her just so that he might be able to catch a hint of the citrusy scented shampoo she uses. How he sometimes hates Scorch for being able to make her laugh.

He’s enamored. He knows it. And he knows that his brothers know it.

And he also knows that she’s so far outside his reach that, even standing next to him, she might as well be in another system.

But she’s not standing next to him.

She’s kilometers away. Fighting a battle all on her own. With no support but what she can give herself with her blades.

And he hates it.

“You need to relax, vod.” Boss says as he leads his brothers through the undergrowth, “She’s going to be fine. She wouldn’t have offered if she wasn’t able to hold her own.”

Fixer bristles, “I don’t think she’s not able to hold her own.” He snaps, “I think she shouldn’t have to.”

“Oh my god,” Scorch finally blurts, “Vod. Fixer. The General-” He swears as Sev smacks him hard, “What the kriff!”

“That’s not for you to tell.” Sev says severely.

“Someone needs to say something!” Scorch hisses.

“Yeah. But not you.” Sev counters.

“Quiet.” Boss’ order cuts through the bickering like a knife, “Gunfire.”

The men lift their blasters and slowly continue forward, being careful to be as quiet as they can. They push through the brush, and into a clearing, where they see their General darting this way and that, her crystal blue lightsabers a blur with how quickly she’s moving.

The men of Delta immediately enter the fray, falling into the familiar strategy of using their General as bait to draw out the droids.

And as the last droid falls to a combination of Sev’s sniper and the General’s blade, she straightens and deactivates her blades. She turns to greet them with a small smile, there’s oil on her robes and several burns on her face, “Nice of you to join me.”

“What happened?” Fixer asks as he steps closer and fishes some bacta out of one of his pouches.

“Some of these droids are rigged to explode if someone uses a lightsaber against them,” She winces as he applies bacta to one of the burns, “They look the same as the other droids though.”

“So we should stick to using blasters for now,” Boss says thoughtfully, “Do you need a break?”

“I’m good to continue.”

“Good enough for me. What did you see?”

“It looks like there are two facilities.” The General replies with a frown, “Which is one more facility than we were expecting. One seems to be producing droids, while the other looks to be an information hub. We should hit both of them.”

“Agreed.” Boss says with a single nod. He falls silent for a moment, “Fixer, you and the General will hit up the information hub. We will deal with the droids.”

“You sure?” The General asks.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Boss replies dryly, “Sev, Scorch. We’re heading in.”

And then Fixer is alone with the General.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He asks.

“Just some burns,” She holds up a hand to show off the blisters, “But it’s fine.”

Fixer sighs and tugs his helmet off, “We have time to treat those, General.” He says as he takes her hand and carefully applies bacta to the burns.

“...sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m happy to help.” Fixer kind of hates that he’s wearing his gloves now, though, because he wants nothing more than to touch her. He’s quiet for a moment, “You know, I don’t think you’re incompetent, General.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I respect you and everything you do for us…and I just…” He trails off, “I wish you would be more careful.”

“If I have to get a scar to keep you and your brothers from getting hurt-”

“No.” Fixer interrupts, “I don’t want you getting hurt at all. I hate seeing you get hurt.”

“Oh.”

“I just…I…” He trails off, “Why did you have to be a jedi? All of the things I want to say to you aren’t allowed-”

She blinks at him, and Fixer averts his gaze as he grabs his helmet, “Fixer,” She stops him from putting his helmet on, “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m in love with you, but you’re a Jedi and aren’t allowed to be in relationships.” Fixer says, “So…so all I can do is admire you and love you from afar.”

She’s quiet for a moment, “I think there’s been something of a cultural misunderstanding.” She finally says, “I’m not forbidden from loving or having relationships. Attachments are forbidden, but attachments aren’t love, Fixer.”

“...can you be more specific?”

“Yes, but not now.” She stands on her toes and kisses his cheek, and Fixer feels his heart doing backflips in his chest, “For now, just know that I love you too. And that I would like to see where this takes us.”

“Oh.” He sighs.

“And now we have a job to do.”

“I…yes General. On your order.”

[kaminocasey]

Shy Boys Go to Heaven

Summary: Fixer doesn't like how much Scorch cozied up to you. He intends to show you that you're his and only his.

Pairing: Delta Squad!Fixer x F Medic!Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+; SMUT, Possessive/Jealous!Fixer, P in V (unprotected; wrap it up friends), oral (f receiving), cum eating, Rough sex. (If I missed something, lemme know)

WC: 3.1K

A/N: Guys... I was like possessed while writing this. Lmao. I genuinely don't know where this sudden love for Fixer came from bc literally the man pissed me off yesterday while I was reading. But c'est la vie, right? Anyway... I think I'm gonna start writing more Rep Comm fics. I'm still working on the Ordo x Reader x Mereel one, don't worry!

Taglist Form

“Ma’am.” Scorch winks at you, as he and the other Deltas walk into the medbay. 

“Well, hello boys.” You smile. “Long time no see.”

“Only a few weeks.” Scorch teases.

Sev and Boss both nod in greeting toward you, taking off their helmets, but once you see Fixer’s familiar green armor, your whole body goes warm just as it does anytime you see him. It was still a secret to everyone, including his own brothers, that you and Fixer would hook up anytime they’d come planetside. You weren’t exactly official or anything, but you enjoyed each other’s company. He wasn’t exactly chatty or anything, as he was a man of few words, so you did most of the talking. 

Fixer nods, his helmet still on, but you know he’ll find you later, so you give him a flirtatious grin as you go to help Scorch and Sev stock up on their medical supplies.

“So, when are you gonna join the field?” Scorch teases, bumping you slightly. “We could always use a skilled medic.”

“Leave the poor woman alone, Scorch.” Boss rolls his eyes before walking over to Alai, your pretty coworker. 

Fixer told you once that Alai and Boss hooked up a couple times, but never became anything serious. But he wasn’t supposed to know that, and Alai never told you, so the two of you weren’t the only ones with secrets. 

“When are you gonna stop asking me?” You tease Scorch back.

“When you cave to my charm and good looks and say yes.” Scorch winks. 

With a roll of your eyes, you turn to look at Fixer, finding him more rigid than usual. Why hasn’t he taken his helmet off? 

You let Scorch and Sev do their thing as you walk over to Fixer, looking up into his visor. “You alright?” 

He nods once, which is code for “Not really, but we’ll talk about it later.” and you know it’s a promise. With a soft sigh, you pat his hand and go sit at your desk, pulling up your end of day data reports.

“How long are you boys planetside?” You ask them. 

“Til tomorrow. Why, you trying to join us for a night of fun?” Scorch flirts.

You shake your head with a laugh, but before you can say anything, Fixer tosses Scorch another crate, barely giving the other man time to catch it, and walks out.

“What’s his deal?” Scorch asks Sev, who just shrugs, taking the crate to stock it. 

You know you can’t go after him. If you do, it’ll raise suspicion, which you know is the last thing that Fixer wants. So, you just hope that you’ll see him later.

Later that night, back at your apartment, you can’t stop thinking about Fixer. What if he doesn’t come tonight? What if the real reason he was so stiff and rigid is because he wants to end it with you? You’ve been doing a lot of thinking the last few months, and you’ve come to the realization that you want this thing with Fixer to be more permanent… But if he doesn’t… then, you’ll have to accept it and move on. No matter how much it hurts. 

As you make a cup of tea, preparing for bed, you hear the front door open and you know immediately who it is. You don’t even have to look. 

But, he’s the one who left so swiftly and suddenly earlier, so he can be the one to initiate the conversation tonight, which you know is something he’s not particularly fond of doing. You aren’t going to sleep with him until he talks, though. A conversation has to be had, no matter what conversation it is.

You hear heavy footsteps make their way to your room as you make your bed down. 

“Hey.” You murmur, barely glancing at him in the doorway of your room.

He doesn’t say anything, though. He walks over to “his” side of the bed, but you put your hand up, stopping him. He’s not wearing his armor anymore, but he is in just his bodysuit. You try to avoid looking at his well-toned form, looking him in the face.

Fixer tilts his head.

“Nothing to say?” You ask, quietly, waiting for him to just say something, but he doesn’t. “Of course not…”

He looks down at your fluffy comforter he loves so much, which he’s mentioned a couple times before. 

“Fixer.” You sigh, making him look up at you with those deep warm brown eyes that you adore so much.

He sighs with a soft grunt running his hand through his curls, clearly frustrated. 

“You have to give me something.” You crawl on the bed, settling in the middle on your knees. 

He’s eyeing the soft skin of your thighs that’s showing in your short silk pajama set. It’s his favorite pair, and you know it. Maybe you’re using it to your advantage. He looks like he wants to touch you, but isn’t letting himself. 

“If you want to fuck me tonight… you have to let me in.” You do your best to look at him, firmly.

“I…” He starts, rolling his eyes as he struggles to say what he wants to say. “Ugh. Scorch… knows that I… feel things… for you.”

“And?” 

“And… he flirts with you… to get under my skin.” Fixer’s gripping the comforter, his fists tight. “And it works. I hate that it works, cyar’ika.” 

“Why?” 

“Why what?” 

“Why do you hate it?” 

“Because…” He struggles again. 

You crawl to him, running your hands up his chest, making his tight fists let go of the sheets. His calloused hands run around your soft body, pulling you against each other. His eyes are on your lips. 

Stay firm, you remind yourself. Who cares if he’s second in command in one of the most intimidating commando squads? Not you. You are not giving in first. 

“Please, Fixer.” You sigh. “I was under the impression you wanted to end things with me.”

“Oh… That’s not it at all.” He murmurs. “I promise.” 

Maker, he smells so fucking good. Too good. 

“So, what is it, then?” You pull away, sitting back on your butt in the middle of the bed, needing a little space before you cave.

He climbs up into the bed, pushing you on your back, pinning you down. 

“Fixer-” You start.

“Just listen, will you?” He asks, gently, but also strained. 

You nod, letting him continue. 

“You, cyar’ika… are mine. Only mine. You belong to me. The thought of any other man touching you, or even speaking to you…” You hear a low frustrated rumble in his throat. “If Scorch wasn’t my vod, I’d have ripped him apart.” 

You didn’t know that Fixer feels this way about you, but it does something to your insides and goes straight to your warmth. Does he know how you feel about him? Surely, he does.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Fixer asks, lowly, his lips so close to yours.

You nod, losing yourself in those brown orbs and breathlessly murmur, “Yes.” 

“Say it then.” Fixer whispers, even closer to lips. “I need to hear it.” 

You think this might be the most he’s ever said in an entire night. And fuck, if they’re not the hottest words any man has ever said to you… 

“I’m yours.” You bite your lip, trying to squeeze your legs together for some sort of release. “I belong to you, Fixer.”

“That’s right.” He smiles, softly. “Good girl.”

Unable to hold back any longer, you reach up, crushing your lips to his. He groans loudly against your mouth, pressing himself against you, making you feel just how hard he is. All from hearing you tell him you belong to him. 

“You like hearing that you belong to me?” He hums.

You nod, whimpering as he grinds his hardened cock against your clothed core. “Y-yes.”

“Good.” He whispers before, pulling away to pull your shorts down, dropping them to the floor behind him. 

“Clothes off-” You gasp as he grips your thighs.

Fixer chuckles, getting up off the bed quickly. “Yes, ma’am.” 

As you watch him drop his clothes with yours, you sit up to pull your silky tank top off, tossing it with the rest. He takes in your naked form and groans, gripping his cock, already dripping precum. 

You start back toward him, eager to get your mouth on him, but he pushes you back again and then, to your surprise, flips you over onto your stomach, pulling you up on your knees and then pressing your face down so that your ass is up. 

You think he’s gonna push his cock into you, unable to wait any longer, but he surprises you once again, by licking a long stripe up your drenched folds.

“Oh, Fuck… Fix…” You groan, reaching above you to grip the comforter, just as he was doing earlier. 

“Taste so good, sweetheart.” He murmurs against your cunt. “Like always.” 

You whimper softly, almost pathetically, when he continues licking into you, his strong fingers, pressing against your clit and rubbing expertly, as always. 

“So wet.” He teases.

“So talkative.” You tease back, just happy to hear him talking. 

He places a swift smack to your back cheek and you gasp sharply into the room. He rubs the spot where he spanked you and then kisses it before returning back to your soaked pussy.

Your moans fill the room as he continues to work your cunt, getting you nice and soaked for his cock, soon you hope. You want so desperately to be filled by him again. It feels like it’s been too long. 

Twenty-six days. But who’s counting?

When he reaches his fingers into you, you feel like you’re about to come right then. It’s been days since you even touched yourself, and you’re pretty sure Fixer can tell. 

He chuckles breathlessly. “So needy for me.”

“Mmhmm.” You groan, burying your whimpers into the covers. 

“So fucking tight… Can’t wait to sink my cock into you.” He rambles.

You’ve always been accepting that he was a man of few words, but tonight… something changed. Like some sort of switch inside of him, flipped the other way. He’s talking, quietly, and Maker, you love his voice. It’s so low, and so sensual, and goes straight to your warmth. 

“Why… wait?” You bounce yourself on his fingers.

“Patience, cyar’ika… Or I’ll make you fuck your own fingers.” He threatens you. 

You whine softly, looking back at him and he grins before burying his face in your cunt again, still thrusting his fingers into you, starting to tease that spongy part deep inside of you. The warm familiar feeling pools into you, spreading all the way to your toes, making them curl and before you know it, you’re cumming all over Fixer’s fingers and tongue, moaning into the mattress.

“Let me fucking hear you.” He reaches up to grab your hair, pulling so that your moans and wet sounds fill the entire room. 

His thrusting fingers gently slow, before pulling out of you. You pant slightly, as you fall to the bed, rolling over to look up at him, smiling blissfully. 

“Fuck me… please?” You whisper. 

“I will, I promise.” He murmurs, laying next to you. 

The look in his eyes is serious now, not playful like it was just moments ago. 

“What is it?” You trace your gentle fingers over his chest, anxiously making lazy patterns.

“I’m afraid that I sounded overbearing earlier…” He stops your hand and brings it to his lips.

This is the softest, most domestic that he’s ever been with you, and you’re almost afraid to move, not wanting it to end. 

“I didn’t think you did.” You assure him. 

“I don’t want to like… own you.” He chuckles. “But… I guess what I’m trying to say is… I want people to know you- we belong to each other.”

Your chest tightens at his confession and you can’t help but reach up and kiss him. It’s different somehow. Like, all of your kisses before were that of passion or lust… this is… sweet… kind. Fixer sighs against your lips, full of content. 

“Next time Scorch flirts with me, I’ll just punch him if you want?” You tease. 

“Actually, yes please.” He laughs and you cross your leg over his thigh. 

This is the first time you’ve ever heard him laugh fully and you try to commit the sound to memory, hoping that you get to hear it more.

“What made you come to this realization?” You ask.

“Oh, I always want to punch Scorch.” He smirks.

You playfully smack him in the chest, making him chuckle. 

“I was on a mission… and I thought for sure we were going to die…” Fixer murmurs, making your stomach churn. “All I could think of was you. Your smile. Your laugh. Your kindness. The way you curl up next to me at night. The way you-” You roll over on top of him, straddling him, grinding your wet folds over his still hard cock. “Keep going.” 

“Fuck…” He groans, gripping your hips tightly. “The way that you cry at holofilms…”

You lift your hips, reaching under you and grabbing his cock, making him gasp. 

“Th-the way y-you…” He struggles.

“Keep. Going.” You encourage him, smiling down at him as you line yourself up with his hardened length. 

“Th-the way you have to stop to say hi to every loth cat-” He groans incredibly loud as you sink down onto him. “Fuck!”

His eyes roll back in his head as he tilts his head back slightly, making you smile. Clenching around him in a teasing manner, he lets out another string of curses. He fills you so perfectly, just like always. But tonight… it just feels like it means so much more. He feels the same way about you, that you do him. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, not a mission.” He grumbles. 

“Yeah, but what a way to go, right?” You grin down at him, brightly.

“I’ll fucking say.” He starts to buck up into you and you push him back down, keeping your hands against his chest. 

You start to lift up slightly, only to fall back down against him, making him actually whimper. It’s always music to your ears when you get that sound out of Fixer. 

“Maker, Fix… you’re so hard.” You tell him, seduction clear in your tone and his hands fly up to yours on his chest, gripping your hands, creating more support. 

He wants you to take over. And you’re happy to oblige. You start bouncing up and down on his cock, causing both of you to groan with need. 

The sounds leaving the man underneath you deserve to go into some sort of auditory museum, they’re so fucking beautiful. He’s so beautiful. 

“You like when I’m on top?” You ask him, breathlessly, squatting so you can glide up and down on his cock, easier. 

“Stars, yes…” He pants. “So… tight.”

You feel the burn in your thighs but you’re able to ignore it, purely driven by the craving for this man. He must sense it though, because he provides support under you, gripping your ass, helping lift you up and down and you can’t help but smile. He winks up at you and it goes straight to your core. You can tell he’s getting closer with each thrust, though.

“Permission to take over?” He whispers.

“Granted, trooper.” You laugh. 

He flips the two of you over, so that you’re on your back and starts driving into you. 

Oh, he’s definitely welcome to take over. 

“So fucking pretty… and perfect.” He groans in your ear, continuously slamming into you, getting the most perfect sounds out of you. “All mine.”

As he tells you that you’re his, his hips stutter only slightly, filling you up, painting your walls with himself. Normally, he’d start to pull away, but he just keeps fucking his cum into you, and honestly, it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. And then when he pulls out, you expect him to stop, but he doesn’t. 

He travels down your body, latching his mouth to your cunt again and you nearly descend into another realm. 

“Fuck…” You moan, still overstimulated from earlier. 

He’s never done this before, cumming in you and then going down on you again. But you’re not complaining. His tongue feels way too good, but with the way that it's moving in you… it takes you a moment to realize he’s gathering up his cum as he rubs your clit. Before you can even say anything, another orgasm is ripped from your body, and he travels back up your body and taps your lips, clearly wanting you to open your mouth. Oh. You gladly open for him and he lets his cum slide into your mouth.

“Swallow for me, sweetheart.” He smirks.

Who are you to deny a dangerous commando? You do as you’re told, swallowing his cum, appreciating the taste of him like you normally do when you go down on him. 

“Good girl.” He tells you again for the second time tonight, and then kisses you, proudly. 

You both pant against each other, your chests heaving, as you try to come down. He pulls you up to the head of the bed, against the pillows, wrapping his arms around you.

You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You’ve always found it calming. 

“Maybe I should join your squad…” You tease, only slightly. 

“Absolutely not.” Fixer shakes his head as he traces patterns over your bare back. 

“Why not?” You ask, looking up at him, confused.

“Because I wouldn’t be able to focus… I’d be too busy trying to make sure you were okay.” He smiles. “I like knowing you’re here… safe and sound.”

You suppose that makes sense… Even though, when he’s away, you don’t know if he’s safe.

“Can I tell you something?” You whisper, afraid to speak too loudly.

“Anything.” He kisses your forehead.

“Every time you go, you take a piece of me with you, Fix.” You admit. 

“Can I tell you something?” He murmurs.

“Of course.” You answer, nervously.

“Every time I go, I leave my heart here with you.” He admits. 

Warmth floods your veins. “Well, I promise to keep it safe.” 

“I know you will.” He leans down to kiss you again.

You eventually fall asleep like that, holding each other with sweet promises of him returning to you and you keeping his heart safe and sound. 

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @misogirl828 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @quigonswife8 @idlenesses @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @brownstalebread @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz

[rare-clone-fic-exchange]

Can't Fight This Feeling

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

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

Divider by @djarrex 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  He grinned, “Yours?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[wanderinginksplot]

Fixer

Fixer is the second-in-command for the famous Delta Squad. As a highly trained commando, Fixer is well versed in various useful skills, but has a special talent for slicing and information retrieval. 

Fixer + Armor-Fitting - gn!reader - .8k words. You and Fixer don’t always see eye-to-eye, but he somehow ends up helping you get your first set of armor. 

Dress Code - Fixer x gn!reader - 4.3k words. You need information from a suspected arms dealer at a Canto Bight casino. Fixer isn’t happy about dressing up to fit in. 

Refuge  - Series with an eventual Delta Squad x fem!reader polycule 

[morgana-ren]

i love angst, and i love your writing, but please, PLEASE, i beg you, could you write some hope of tav ever returning now that the imbecile, has realised the error of his ways 🥺😭 (either way, thank you so much, for all your astarion writtings, it has made me feel things, the angst is real and my masochistic heart loves it🥲)

First part of the story HERE

Common complaint I got on that one! So I fixed it just for y'all. This ending is much less sad and much more sappy, so here is the comfort you need after all that angst!

"Darling, will you smile for me? Just once more. Please--"

He feels her cheeks in his palms, the soft skin against his battle-hardened callouses. Desperation cradles his unbeating heart, and for a moment, the emotion is far too much. A searing flame after centuries of frost. A bonfire in a blizzard. It hurts-- it burns--

"My love, I just need you to--"

"Anything my lord, anything at all for you. Simply command me and I will do anything you ask."

"No, I can't-- I-- I won't do it. I won't. I won't!"

"My lord?"

Her head cocks, turning slowly to look upon him, but her eyes-- they are empty; beetle-black and hollow. Her smile is uncanny as a painted doll, her movements disjointed and inhuman. Her teeth are stained crimson with blood, dripping, dripping, ever dripping down, never swallowed, only pooling.

She is light as a feather as she slips away from him, her skin marbling into a sickly gray before ash spreads across her body as a disease, smearing her form into nothingness. Only her face is left untouched, pretty as porcelain, unflinching and unfalling save a small crack that splinters down from her forehead down to her eyes, revealing inky black abyss beneath.

"My lord-- Oh, my tender, vicious lord. I can feel your anguish-- your hunger. Devour me to be whole once more--"

Her blood smells of rot and she--

She is too far gone to save. Too far gone to ever be saved.

"I won't!"

Whirlwind. Pain. Confusion and dread and seeping anguish. A maelstrom of rage and all-consuming despair swelling from within his soul—

—his soul?

The world around him falls away, a wicked tornado thrashing him about, his mind howling in the eternal winds--

And suddenly he is in a chair.

Not a throne. A chair— and a rather uncomfortable one at that.

"What in the hells—"

His vision spins, nausea curling his gut into a wicked tide of sickness barely restrained by his teeth. He tastes stale blood crawling up his throat, threatening to overturn onto the faded rug beneath him.

"Did you see what you wished for, little spawn?"

The voice takes him by surprise. It is not hers, but another, less familiar voice. The wailing animal in his head retreats to a dull roar as his memory creeps back. A brightly colored tent assaults his vision, piecemeal rugs and odd, foreign trinkets abound on makeshift shelves, and before him sits a strange old woman, hood pulled heavy over her straggling gray hair.

"I-- What was that?"

He sees her cracked, aging lips upturn, gnarled hands placed protectively over a strange orb on the table touching his knees. "I have shown you your future, vampling. Was it to your liking?" Panic rises within his stomach again, and though he does not breathe, he clutches his chest. The smell of incense clogs his nostrils and again, the wave of sick threatens to spill forth. Wretched taste of metallic, aged blood sits heavy on his tongue, all sensation too much-- all of it too much.

"No-- No, that cannot be it!"

"This is your path, Pale Elf. The road you walk. The power you seek is well within your grasp, but as I told you before, it will cost you everything."

He vehemently shakes his head, denying it. Denying it before her and all the Gods.

"You told me upon entry that no price was too great for your reward. Do you still agree with this sentiment?"

"No! Not-- not her. Not her. Not that! I couldn't--"

"You can and you shall, sure as the moon follows the sun. You will have everything you ever wanted, but cost of this ritual is plain before you. You cared not for the many souls left to your mercy that are crushed beneath your tyrannical fist in your ascension, but what of the sole one that resides in your heart?"

Her. The light of his life. The air he breathes. The sun on his frigid flesh, the warmth that melts his icy heart.

"No," He hisses, trying to stand, but ultimately unable to muster the strength. "I won't! There-- There must be another way. Show me!"

"There is no other way," She says, solemnly. "It is inevitable."

He swallows down the information like a boulder lodged in his gullet. Her words echo endlessly in his mind, bouncing off the walls and lodging shards of ice directly in his soul.

"What if I-- What if I don't ascend? Tell me, what if I don't?"

She smiles again, teeth flashing through her thin lips. "That is another path, little elf." "I need to know. I-- I need certainty. I won't do this to her, but I--" He pauses, grappling with everything in his mind, desperately flitting about to absorb it all. "If I am going to forgo this, I need to be certain. I need to know that I can protect her, that she will be safe--"

But the woman simply shakes her head.

"Everyone must choose. For some, the path is dark, but for you, you see more than most will ever have the comfort of knowing. I can offer you nothing more. Should you initiate the Rite, you know this will come to pass. I can tell you nothing more if you choose to not. The future is yet unwritten, and the quill resides in your hands." "Then why can I not have both!" He slams a fist on the table, clawing at the soft wood. For the first time in ages, tears prick at his pale lashes and frustration wells a knot in his throat. "Why--" "Because one path is wholly your own, while the other is a tangled web, such is the nature of deals with the Hells. You will get everything you ever wanted and lose everything that made it worth having."

His head slumps, defeated and miserable. Silvery tears slide down the curves of his cheeks, even as he attempts to bite them back. He thought he would find comfort in knowing the future, but all it has given him is utter horror.

"Despair not," She continues. "Yes, you will wither under the sun, an eternally cursed dweller of the night, but all is not lost, is it? The one you love, will she stray from your side?" "I wanted her to have better than that," He sniffles, needling his lip with a fang. "I cannot brave the sun, but her-- She deserves better than that-- better than me."

"And what of what she feels?"

His brows furrow, and he peers up at the woman from tear-beaded lashes.

"You are a night walker; it is in your nature to be selfish. But love is not selfish, little vampling. You must fight your nature, your inherent self-loathing, or your love will always find the fire. What of what she desires?"

"She loves me," He says with absolute certainty. "And I--" "Do you love her?"

"Yes," He hisses, almost insulted that she would ask. "More than anything. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Then the rest matters naught. If you love her, you will allow her the agency to choose-- something you deny her as an ascendent. You must grow past your own follies. To love is to be vulnerable, and you must allow both yourself and her this freedom."

They are hard words to swallow, and yet, he feels the truth resound in them. She would not leave his side, even as he tried to force her to understand. Even as an instrument of his manipulation and schemes came to light, she stood steadfast with him, hand entwined in his, ready to face the fire together.

"I-- I need to know she will be safe."

Again, the woman shakes her head. "You cannot. You must fight fate if you wish to overturn it. You face dire odds, though throwing the dice in your favor now will doom you later should this outcome be the confirmation of your fears."

He sighs, face crinkling as he sniffs once more, summoning the willpower to swallow down the agony of his choice. He finds the strength in his legs to push himself upward from the chair, weak and shaking as a newborn fawn as he does so. "I will do whatever I need to. Anything."

"Then you may yet see this through."

He can hear the fanfare of the circus outside, the bawdy bards strumming away on their lutes and banging on drums, the elated screams of the children and their parents. Facing the light now seems impossible, but he must find his way home to her-- he has to be with her now now now--

"The coin first, boy."

He snaps out of his delirium only long enough to fish his hands into one of his pockets, bringing out a coin. Aged and neglected, the sinister engraving of a skull peers up at him from his palm, ruby eyes gleaming in the light as he tosses it into the woman's knobbily-jointed hands.

"Best of luck to you, night-child," She tucks it away. "We may yet meet again." "No offense, but I hope not."

"Me too, Little Star."

He pays little mind to the bustling streets and bursting taverns of Baldur's Gate, his feet carrying him back to camp as swiftly as his body will allow. It takes him until sundown even as he damn near jobs, ripping through the tree line and into the ruins with the intensity of a man starved.

"Astarion!" Karlach greets him, trying to wave him over. "I've got a bet with Gale about--" "Where is she?" Astarion immediately cuts her off, looking around frantically.

"Who?" Karlach raises a brow.

"Who else?" Wyll crosses his arms, looking intrigued at Astarion's intensity.

"Oh! In her tent, I think. Why? Gotcha a special something' in town for her, eh?" Karlach tries to rib at him, but he pushes past her without a second glance.

"Bet it's a fancy new dress he needs to tear off of her immediately," Karlach rolls her eyes before returning to her business.

He bursts into her tent to find her hunched over a book, tongue poking from between her teeth, as she scans over the page. This only lasts a few seconds before he scrambles onto the bed, squeezing her as tightly as he can manage, burying his nose into her hair, tears brimming in his eyes once more.

"Woah, hey!" She laughs, carefully setting her book aside, trying to discern what in the hells he is mumbling endlessly into her neck.

Need you-- need you-- love you-- can't lose you-- don't ever--

She hushes him, realizing something has gone terribly, terribly wrong, kissing his head and tugging him close. "Hey, what's wrong?"

She tries to cup his cheeks and bring his face up but he adamantly refuses, hard-swallowing the urge to bawl into her shoulder with every ounce of willpower he has. All he can manage is to cling to her, half sobbing, visions of that terrible future swimming in his head. He cannot let it come to pass, he will not--

And she holds him, cradling him in her arms, hushing him gently. Her face creases with worry, running her hands through his silvery hair as he pulls him into her lap.

"Little Star, what's wrong? You seem so upset. What can I do to make you happy, my love?"

"Is it done?" Ulma leans down as she enters the tent, carefully dodging the intricate tassels of the blanket strewn over the entryway.

"It is," The strange old woman replies, still rubbing the coin with her worn thumb.

"And?"

"I showed him nothing but truth," She says quietly. "I did not manipulate his vision. Only channeled it."

"That tells me nothing. I need to know if our children are safe."

"I cannot tell you this, Ulma. You know of the ways of our tribe; our relationship with these magics." Ulma's lips purse, her exasperation evident in her humorless expression. "I need to know--"

"His reaction was genuine. That was not my doing. He knows the price of power. I cannot tell you if he will pay it regardless," The old woman's head lifts, a slight mischievous smile playing on her lips. "But I can tell you what I think."

"And what do you think?"

"I have seen his soul-- the heart of it. I believe you will see our children yet. He will spare our heart to spare his own in kind. It beats in that woman," Her eyes twinkle in the low candlelight, a genuine smile widening across her cheeks. "I believe he can find redemption yet."

[bwabys-scenarios]

Saving Christmas

Kurapika x Fem!Reader

A/N: This takes place in the fixer upper universe.

You, Kurapika, and Leorio struggled to set up Christmas presents under the tree as Gon and Killua slept upstairs.

While Killua didn't believe in Santa, Gon did, and because he couldn't go home to whale island due to a blizzard, you were determined to keep up the magic for him.

"Leorio, did you eat some of the cookies?" you whispered, stuffing some chocolate and small trinkets into one of the stockings.

“Crap, not yet.”

“Seriously? That’s one of your only tasks and you haven’t done it yet,” Kurapika whisper yelled, taping down some wrapping. “You’re Santa, you have t-“

“Guys?”

The three of you paused as Gon rubbed his eyes at the top of the stairs, Killua standing behind him. They both had on matching Christmas pajamas, and Gon looked confused.

“G-Gon, sweetheart…” you said, standing in front of Kurapika so he couldn’t see him wrapping the presents meant to be from Santa. “You should be asleep, Santa can’t come if you’re awake.”

“But Santa is right behind you.”

You paused, turning slowly and seeing Leorio behind you, your pillow shredded and it’s stuffing stuff to his face.

“…”

Leorio avoided your icy glare, instead walking past you. “Hello there, young man. I’ve come to deliver some presents for… you.”

Gon smiled sleepily, attempting to walk downstairs, but Killua grabbed his sleeve. “Woah, we need to go back to bed. Santa is busy.”

Killua ushered him back to bed, struggling to keep himself from bursting into laughter at your expression.

Once they were out of earshot, you turned to glare at Leorio. “And what are you going to do about my couch cushion?”

“… I’ll get you a new one. Promise.”

Kurapika guided you back to the couch, his hand on your belly. “Sit down, okay? You need to rest, we can handle this.”

You huffed, but let him prop your feet up and kiss your forehead. Lately he had grown incredibly protective over you, never letting his angel out of his sight.

Of course Kurapika would be that way, considering you were pregnant with his child.

The next day, everyone had a fun time opening presents and laughing together, each person getting a turn feeling your baby bump and gifting your future baby clothes and toys.

“She’ll be loved…” Kurapika murmured, his fingers tracing over your belly. “That’s all I could want for her, a family that adores her to no end.”

As he thought over how happy he was to be here with you, a baby on the way and feeling more at home than ever…

His alarm clock began to ring.

Kurapika bolted up, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to take a deep breath. He glanced over at the hotel nightstand, seeing your picture staring back at him.

Though he hadn’t put a ring on your finger or married you yet, he was still grateful at least one thing from his dream was true.

He loved you, and wanted to be able to say that to you one day.

Kurapika just wasn’t aware of how bad things were going to get… how everything would slip between his fingers faster than he couldn’t ever imagine.

He smiled as he packed up his suitcase, ready to reunite with you and perhaps bask in your affection and attention… completely unaware that soon, he wouldn’t have you anymore.

[toska-writes]

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

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

“Got your back”

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

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

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

Word count: 1688

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s never been more wrong in his life.

While he was lost in thought, Boss nearly missed Scorch sliding up next to their leader, his panicked voice tried to fill Boss’s ears.

For a moment the other comando didn’t realize the trooper in yellow was talking until Scorch made a shhh gesture with his hand.

That’s when you noticed it too, the complete lack of noise. No more clanker chatter or blaster bullets from each side. Just the low hiss of the fog that didn’t seem to die down.

You opened your mouth to say something before the unmistakable scraping of metals filled your ears.

“Rollies! get down!” Scorch shouted pulling you and Boss to the floor with him. About 5 Droidekas emerged from the smoke…. Lucky you guys.

“Scorch handle them.” Boss yelled using his hands to signal something at Fixer and Sev at the speed of light. His gruff tone scratched your ears but you all seemed pretty fed up at the situation.

Blaster bullets were blocked by your lightsaber left and right until the next words made your heart drop all together. “Out of hand grenades sir.” Scorch ripped his blaster out now but the shields were too strong on the droids.

“Down the hall!” Fixer yelled as both He and Sev passed the 3 of you, a way out hopefully planned.

You felt them before you saw them, you tried skidding to a stop before turning into the next hall as a hand shot out to grab Boss.

“Shit.” Was the only thing you could say, before they could question what you meant a group of comando droids emerged with guns drawn.

“You’ve got to be joking me.” Sev rasped out, his arm shook while he tried to lift his blaster up and fire. The tiredness leaked off of him though you were sure it did for everyone.

A ring of blue light hit the wall behind you. It didn’t make sense though, comando droids weren’t the type to show mercy.

Your lightsaber flashed along the darkened walls trying to keep the nimble droids away, why couldn’t the separatists just send the normal clankers.

Once again the hall was engulfed in a think smoke. You heard more blasters going off but you feared you were getting more and more disoriented. After a moment you heard a sickening thunk next to you and you assumed the worst.

In the blink of an eye you felt the blast hit its mark and half your body go limp. Unlike the bulking clones you were with it only took about 2 hits before you were out.

•✩•

Boss was the first one to awaken. His head bobbed around and his eyes fluttered open. Boss reached his hand up only to finally realize that his armor was gone.

He laid there for a moment, confusion laced his face. What had happened to him? To them….

In a split second Boss shot up to a sitting position , which his head greatly protested, and looked for the rest of his squad.

Relief was one of the best things in the galaxy in this moment. In the dim light of the ray shield keeping them in Boss could count the 3 other comandos and the form of their padawan knocked out next to Scorch.

Sev still looked bad as now Boss could get the full view of his gash along his side- the blacks on all of the men seemed to be tattered.

Boss observed their surroundings for a moment before giving a light tap to Fixer on the foot. When that didn’t work the first time a much hard kick was implemented.

Fixer gasped awake along with Scorch after a “friendly” tap from the clone comando.

I didn’t take Scorch long before he leaned back against the wall and groaned, clearly he knew the situation at hand.

Boss could only stare for another second at Sev, guilt rummaged through his insides as he helped his injured brother up ultimately waking him as well. This was his fault and Boss couldn’t shake that.

“Fixer start working on those bindings.” Boss ordered unable to keep his gaze on the unconscious padawan. Clearly to the eyes of their captors the Jedi was the bigger threat.

Sev hissed for a moment now finding a new brother to lean on.

You came to with the feeling of someone’s exposed hands brushing against your arms. The pounding in your head was present but the blanket of confusion was much scarier.

“Thanks for joinin’ us.” The unmistakable voice of scorch chimed in. Your eyes strained against the darkness but you could tell what the problem was.

The cool metal hurt your wrists as Fixer fiddled with them muttering a small apology every once in a while.

Boss’ low voice filled the cell, plans of just how they would get out to fight another day. Your eyes scanned the worrisome group.

Scorch sat fidgeting with his hands trying desperately to listen but you could see the worry in his eyes as clear as day.

Fixer sat in front of you cursing and apologizing but he just couldn’t seem to do anything useful without his tools and data pad.

Sev’s eyes closed everyone once in a while and you could see the fight to remain in the moment, though his scowl never seemed to be wiped off.

And finally Boss. His voice was level and low just like the countless other times you heard him give directions, however this time was different. He knew this wasn’t in their favor and he was worried beyond belief.

Someone had to stay strong for them all.

Your heartbeat beat out of your chest, a dull throb started in your temples the feeling seemed vaguely familiar.

“I think someone’s coming.” For the first time you were unsure in the force. Fixer faltered for a moment before meeting your eyes. “It’s probably these. Messing with you.” He shook the bindings.

Though to your surprise, and relief in a way, someone did make their way down the hall. Boss spoke out quickly as you averted your gaze, sweat started to form on your brow.

“We need a medic.” It was hard to call it pleading despite where Boss said it from his position on the floor, but it was definitely more of a demand.

2 masked figures approached though they seemed to ignore Boss all together.

“We need the Jedi.” The cool voice stated only once.

Everyone seemed to freeze for a moment unsure about which group would make the first move.

“Get up.” Was demanded at you and you glanced around meeting Boss’ eyes for only a moment before you gripped onto the sleeve of Fixer.

The ray shield was down now and the larger figure stepped in. “I’m not asking again”

“Like kriff they’re going with you.” Scorch stood in front of you now. His full height filled up their line of sight.

“Move clone.” For a second Scorch was pushed back that was until Boss stood as well and shoved their captor away from his brother.

Before the other could react with their blaster Scorch was all over them. Fixer taking the hint that their time was now scrambled to get their other brother still on the floor.

Your eyes were blown wide with the loud alarm that was set off. You felt someone grab your arm as you were still in a little daze.

“I hope you didn’t think we were really gonna let them take ya.” Scorch said as the group rushed down the halls.

You thought about that for a moment, had there truly been something to worry about while you were surrounded but the Delta Squad, your brothers?

A smile broke out of your face and Scorch seemed to get your reply.

“I hope you know.” Scorch called over his shoulder. “You’re never picking the missions by yourself again Boss.”

An angry yell was heard from somewhere behind you replacing the fear in your body with a laugh. “You were the one to pick the bug mission Scorch!”

______________________________

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[callmelittlebuttercup]

Peace Offerings Pt. 8

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Series Summary: Joel and Reader stumble upon an older couple's desolate cabin. Despite Joel's protests, the Reader accepts the woman's invitation inside for soup and warmth. Once the lady's husband comes home, he shares some information that send Joel and Reader spiraling, forcing them to hold onto each other for support.

Series Warnings: Slow burn, Age gap (reader is 34, Joel is 56), 18+ Minors DNI, Sexual Themes, Violence, Injuries (depictions of blood, bruising, broken bones), Cursing, Grumpy!Joel, Minimal depictions of reader's appearance (hair color/length.)

Chapter Warnings: Yelling, Dead animals/eating meat (rabbit/dear), Vomiting.

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Part Eight

Our boots crunched through the snow as we made our way through the thick woods. My cheeks stung from the bitter cold, my hands were still numb despite being buried into my pockets, and my stomach was practically eating itself. I thought about asking Joel to stop so I could eat something from our stash, but I kept ahead, dreading a conversation with him. I didn’t trust myself to not mention last night. Our kiss was implanted into my brain. No matter how badly I wanted to forget it, to purge the embarrassment that I’d felt afterwards out of my mind, I couldn’t. The desperation of his hands clenching my shirt, the way his beard stung as it rubbed against my face, the way he tasted. It was all painfully unforgettable, and I didn’t dare mention it. Afterall, it was a mistake. 

About 20 quiet minutes down the path, we came across a lone cabin. I gawked at the smoke coming from the chimney, and the rabbits and deer hung up outside. Joel put a hand up for me to stop walking. “It’s occupied. Might have to keep moving.” He muttered. “But they have food… and warmth!” I argued a little too loudly, letting my immediate need for both of those things spill out of me. Joel glared as if saying “Shut the fuck up.” By the time we turned back to the cabin, an older woman was standing on the porch looking our way. Joel handed me his gun and walked towards her slowly with his hands raised above his head. “Ma’am, we’re not looking for trouble, just passing through.” Joel called out. She stared for a moment longer, her eyes meeting Joel’s, then mine. “You guys hungry?” She called out.  We looked at each other. Joel shook his head, no. But I walked forward, my stomach making ungodly noises at the mention of food. “Starving.” I called out. Joel shot me a look. “I think she’s alone, Joel.” I whispered. “Or she could have someone waiting in the house to slaughter us.” he seethed back. “We’ll find out.” I said as I walked past him, hands raised.  My name left Joel’s lips in an exasperated sigh, “Goddammnit.” 

“Leave your guns at the door, my husband will be back soon.” She said bluntly as we timidly entered the house. Joel shot me another look as if saying “I told you so.” I ignored him and surveyed the area. There was wooden furniture arranged around a fireplace, and the walls were decorated with fur and animal bones. A fire warmed and incensed the small cabin. “Soup okay?” She asked as she moved to the small kitchen on the opposite wall of the same room. Joel and I nodded, watching closely as she ladled the already warmed soup into wooden bowls. She slowly made her way over to us, her age dwindling her speed. One of the reasons I wasn’t afraid of her. She handed me a bowl first. I whispered, “Thank you.” and immediately tipped the contents into my mouth. “Slow down.” Joel grunted as he accepted his own bowl. I ignored him and gulped down the so-called soup. It was broth with either rabbit or deer meat. Either way, I was ecstatic to have food in my stomach. 

“There’s a bed in the loft,” the woman spoke over the rhythmic creak of her rocking chair, then nodded towards me, “your girl looks tired.” Joel’s eyes reluctantly shifted towards me but I did my best to avoid eye-contact. A place to rest my aching self sounded like heaven. I began to stand up, but Joel grabbed my wrist before saying, “She’s not- She’s fine.” I pulled away and shot him an annoyed look. I knew he didn’t want to split up, but the last thing I wanted to do was sit next to him on a tiny wooden bench. It was hard enough to fight the urge to lean against him. And in addition to that, my side was throbbing and it was a chore to keep my back straight while sitting on the hard surface. “I would love to lay down ma’am. Thank you.” I said politely before climbing up the stairs to the loft.

 In the corner of the room was a small mattress with what looked like handmade quilts. I 

sighed and gently laid down onto the plush material. I was just starting to give in to the heaviness of my eyelids when I heard the door open and the unzipping of a jacket. There was a moment of eerie quiet before a man’s voice blurted “Who the hell are you?” Joel’s voice calmly answered, “Just someone passing through. Take the gun out, two fingers only and put it out of reach.” The gun clattered onto a table. “Why didn’t you shoot him?” the man asked. I assumed he was addressing the woman. “The gun was all the way over there.” Another moment of silence passed and then she spoke again, “He didn’t hurt me by the way.” The man groaned, “Yeah I see that… You made him soup?” His voice hurled towards annoyance. “Yeah…I did. It’s cold out.” the woman answered in a tone that made it seem like it was the obvious thing to do. I almost giggled at the casualness of the couple. Any other people would have Joel and I at gunpoint or even dead by now, but here they were worrying about soup. 

I moved silently to peek down at them between the rungs of the railing. The man had plopped into a chair, seemingly unbothered by Joel holding him at gunpoint. He was still layered in multiple sweaters, and as he took off his hat, short, white hair was revealed. “I’m looking for my brother.” Joel said, trying to get the interaction on track. “Well I ain’t seen ‘im.” The man responded. “I haven’t told you what he looks like.” Joel replied, a hint of sass in his tone. “He look anything like you?” The man asked. “A bit.” I tried to imagine what the man would look like, whether he was younger or older, all questions I could never ask. “Then I ain’t seen him.” The man grunted. The woman spoke again, “He’s got a woman with him.” My stomach dropped and I moved to hide behind an animal skin that had been draped over the bannister. “Uh..No.” Joel said panickedly. “He does! Just saw her.” The man exclaimed. “Dammit.” Joel cursed under his breath as I stood up, keeping my hands visible to them to show I wasn’t a threat. “Who’s this beauty?” The man asked, his eyes following my form as I descended the stairs. I clenched my jaw nervously and went to stand next to Joel. “Nevermind her.” He said while moving his body in front of mine. I stepped out from behind him, annoyed with the fact that he’d pushed me away but still insisted on bossing me around. I felt the woman’s eyes on me. A soft smile was spread across her round face. I responded with a smile of my own, and then focused back onto the men’s tense conversation. 

Joel finally got the man to plant a finger to show where we were on the map. He sighed frustratedly and paced, “Well you found a great place to hide I guess.” The man chuckled, “Look, I came out here before you were born, sonny.” The woman turned to Joel and I and said, “I didn’t want to.” I furrowed my eyebrows in empathy, but my attention was brought back to the man as he continued to speak. “And I didn’t mean to upset you about your brother, but if you’ve come this far then you know what’s out there. You seen Cody?” He asked. I sat up and joined into the conversation, “Yeah we’ve been close enough. It’s crawling with infected.” He nodded, “Laramie, Wind River Reservation… Anywhere people used to be, you can’t go there no more.” Joel finally sat down and rang his hands nervously, “So you haven’t heard the name Tommy?” The inflection of his voice had changed slightly. I sounded more anxious than usual. “Or Matthew?” I asked hopefully. “There’s two men you’re looking for?” The man asked exasperatedly. “Our brothers are supposed to have been in the same state. They left together with a group of fireflies.” I explained. “Like the bugs?” The woman questioned, her face twisted in confusion. “Not the bugs, the people.” I said again, trying to stay patient. “There are firefly people?” She asked again. The couple burst out laughing and I bit my lip, desperately trying not to join in. Joel was not having it, “You got any advice on the best way west?” The man leaned forward, “Yeah. Go East.” He pointed to a depiction of a river on the map, “Never go past the river here. Ever.” I looked up from the map, “What’s past the river?” I asked reluctantly. “Death. We’ve never seen who’s out there, but we see the bodies they leave behind. Some infected, some not. If your brothers are west of the river, they’re gone.” 

The woman’s words felt like a punch to the gut. The thought that I’d done all of this- gone through all of this only to find that my brother was dead made bile rise up into my throat. My pulse thumped in my ears as I stood up. “Need some fresh air.” I breathed as I stumbled towards the door, almost tripping over the rug made out of bear fur. I squinted from the blinding sun as I opened the door and walked back out into the freezing weather. I leaned against the side of the house as I sucked in the cold air, trying to keep myself in reality. I needed to hold onto the hope that Matthew would still be alive. Those people were clueless. They had no idea what was going on in the world besides the cordyceps. There’s no way I was letting them convince me my brother was dead. The “what ifs” were still enough to make me lean over the railing and spew the soup all over the white snow. 

The door opened behind me and I heard Joel’s heavy boots step onto the landing. My name fell softly from his lips, and I felt his hand on my back. I leaned up off of the railing and shoved away from him. “Don’t touch me, Joel.” I sobbed. His hand retracted from me and he stepped back. His face was heavy with a mixture of grief, anxiety, anger and everything in between. “I’ve been thinking about this.” I said shakily as I wiped my face and turned to him. He looked at me through the side of his eyes, refusing to face me. “I’ve been thinking… what if they’re not there. What if this dream I’ve been having is real-“ He cut me off and growled, “No. DON’T FUCKING SAY THAT.” The volume of his voice caused me to shriek and recoil back. My body shrunk into the corner of the landing, and I stared at him wide-eyed. He dug his hands into his hair and pulled his head downwards onto the railing opposite to me. “We can’t believe that.” He whispered, his voice cracking under the immense weight of the situation. 

He was losing it. No longer able to keep up the cold, emotionless, strong man act. The thought of losing his brother broke something in him. He stood at the railing and heaved. He wasn’t crying, he was panicking. Fighting the same thoughts I had been for the past few weeks. 

I decided that this time, I would be the one to put my hand on his back. I pushed up off of the side of the house and slowly moved towards him. I raised a shaky hand to the brown leather of his coat, and pressed it in between his broad shoulders. His head raised up from between his hands and he caught sight of me in the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry.” He breathed. I shook my head, “Don’t be.” He slowly straightened from his crouched position and stood facing me. “Joel.” I said while maintaining eye contact, “I’m going to hug you now. Not because I want to, but because I need to. And you’re going to let me, because no matter how strong or manly you are, I know damn well you need it too.” He stared down at me, neither accepting or rejecting my declaration. I slowly raised my arms to his torso and my hands connected with the warmth of him. As I brought my body closer and closer, I waited for him to push me away or yell at me, but he didn’t. He stood still as our bodies connected. I pressed my head against his chest while wrapping my arms tightly around him. He didn’t hug me back. I didn’t expect him to. But the absence of his refusal was a sign that I was right- he did need it. Not wanting to push my luck, I began to pull away. It was only then that he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulled our bodies back together, and rested his chin against my head. I closed my eyes and breathed in a full breath for the first time in years. My heavy heart felt lighter.

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As always, thank you for reading!! <3

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[wanderinginksplot-writes]

Refuge Chapter Eight

It's finally time for your first mission with Delta Squad.

Continued slow-burn Delta Squad x fem!reader

Word Count: 4,300

Warnings: Anxiety, feelings of alienation, social awkwardness, teasing, minor verbal bullying, brief physical bullying, and general references to weapons and warfare

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You would never get used to traveling this way. 

You had watched as the ship left from the hangar bay, directed by a GAR tower as you slowly rose through masses of Coruscanti traffic. Fixer had asked you to step out of the cockpit during takeoff. Well, it had actually sounded far closer to an order, but you apparently made him nervous with the intense way you watched everything.

Still, you had found another transparisteel pane to watch from as the planet fell away beneath you. You were in the air. That had always been something for other people to experience, people on distant planets. Voubosians had nowhere to go and the concept of space flight was more theoretical than something that average people expected to experience someday. 

And if your palm rose to press against the inside of the windowpane as Fixer put the ship into hyperdrive, who could blame you? Not a single person. Especially since the rest of Delta Squad were all crowded into the cockpit. 

You were going to Isiring, a small planet in the Outer Rim and very close to Separatist space. The planet was considering joining the Republic, and that consideration had put them under occupation by the Separatist Army. The GAR had driven off most of the droid army, but the Isiring people were in desperate need of supplies. The Wolfpack had brought a shipment of supplies, but there had been more refugees than expected. 

Delta Squad had brought additional supplies, enough to last until another battalion could get through the Separatist remnants with a full resupply. Additionally, Delta would help build and reinforce the refugee camp that the 104th was building. 

And, somehow, you were considered capable enough to be part of Delta Squad’s mission. You had your own doubts about that, but you had agreed to take on this assignment and you were determined to see it through. 

That didn’t stop you from jolting when someone spoke behind you. 

“It’ll be a while before we get there, even using the hyperspace lanes along the way.”

When you had recovered - trying to play off your surprise as a temporary loss of balance, you turned to nod at Sev. “Thank you for letting me know. How long do you think the journey will take?”

Sev was frowning, though. "Did you just get scared?" 

"I thought everyone was still in the cockpit," you explained, chuckling at yourself. Sev didn't laugh at all. On Toporik, a harmless fright was considered humorous, good for a shared laugh among friends. Sev didn't seem even slightly amused and you conceded internally that it could be a cultural thing. 

"You didn't hear me?" 

"No," you admitted, feeling fully awkward by that point. “I didn’t know I was supposed to be listening for you.”

Sev shook his head and returned to the cockpit, leaving you waiting uncomfortably alone in the transport's small seating area.

And you stayed alone for far too long. You couldn't hear any conversation among Delta Squad in the cockpit, but there were closed comlink channels in their HUDs. In all likelihood, they were talking about you. 

It wasn’t necessarily bad. They could be discussing how to fit you into the mission without risking themselves or you due to your inexperience. Though you knew they had already considered that, and probably had been doing so since they were first assigned to assist on Isiring. In that case, the conversation might be bad. 

You decided to convince yourself that they were all crowded in the cockpit, surrounded by pure silence. 

When everyone other than Scorch filed out of the cockpit, you were staring out of the viewport and toying with the material of your body glove. The shine of the transparisteel’s interior meant that you could watch Delta’s faces as they came into the ship’s main cabin. 

Sev glanced at you for a moment before he continued on to the back of the ship. Boss didn’t even look at you. Fixer watched you stretch and release the fabric of the garment’s shoulder a few times before he shook his head. Surprisingly, he reached out to still your fingers with his own. For all that he hadn’t seemed very easy with touch, the movement seemed utterly natural for him. 

“Don’t you remember how hard we had to work to get that glove for you?” he asked. The question could have been stern or harsh, but his tone sounded softer, almost gentle. “Try not to tear it on your first mission out, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you echoed, releasing the fabric immediately. It snapped back into place with a sting that made you wince. You were still facing the window and thought your expressions were private, but when your gaze focused, you could see that Fixer was looking at the window as well. He was using the opposite vantage point to watch you in the reflection. When he saw that you had seen him, he offered a nod and pulled his hand away from yours. 

That touch - simple, but freely offered - sparked something in you. Suddenly, you realized how horribly, deeply lonely you were. Perhaps it was inevitable; this was the first time you’d had alone with your thoughts in some time. Without the stress of running for your life or the distraction of Jedi training, you could process it. 

Sitting still, staring out of the viewport at stars passing by too quickly to be anything other than streams of light, you were spiraling. You had no community, no place. Delta Squad had offered you a spot among them, but now that you were there, they seemed concerned about your presence. No, not concerned… inconvenienced. 

Had this all been a mistake? You were honor-bound to see things through, especially since this had been a choice, one you had made gladly. If you died, you couldn’t see that as a terrible tragedy, but what if one of the others ended up hurt or killed trying to protect you because you couldn’t protect yourself? 

“Hey.” 

You turned quickly at the greeting, desperately clinging to the interruption of your frantic thoughts. Sev was standing there with a box in his hands. 

When you didn’t say anything, he frowned. It seemed to be a common expression for him. Or maybe you just brought it out in him…

“You good?” Sev asked. “Your breathing has picked up.”

“Just… trying to meditate.”

It was an incredibly weak lie, one that hung in the air for an uncomfortably long time. Sev gave you a few seconds of incredulous silence to fess up, but you stayed quiet. 

“Yeah,” he said eventually, clearly still skeptical. He lifted the box slightly. “Brought you some food.” 

“You brought me dinner?” you asked, unreasonably touched by that. Your emotions were erratic - not a good sign before your first mission. 

Sev scowled. “I guess. You get some before Scorch gets his. We’ll be going lights-out in about an hour, so consider this your warning.” 

“Thank you,” you said, accepting the box from him. Then a thought struck you and you felt more than a little silly for not having considered it before. “Um… where am I sleeping? There are only four bunks and I don’t want to take anyone’s spot-” 

“Someone has to fly the ship,” Fixer pointed out. “We’ll rotate bunks - the new person takes the empty one. Everyone’s clean and in top health, so you don’t have to worry about hygiene.” 

“As long as Scorch remembers to wash the liquid tibanna off this time,” Sev muttered. 

“Hey!” Scorch objected from the cockpit. You jumped again. You hadn’t known he could hear the conversation outside. “That only happened once!” 

“Yeah, but I’m the one who ended up with gas burns on his-” Sev’s dark eyes slid toward you before he turned briskly away. “Anyway, I wouldn’t recommend sleeping in a bunk after Scorch has had it.” 

“At least my hair isn’t greasy!” Scorch called. 

That made you laugh despite yourself. Sev’s hair was shorn so close to his scalp that you didn’t know if you could grab one without the use of tweezers. The idea of grease being able to cling to his nearly bare head was so unlikely as to be truly entertaining. 

“Stow it, men,” Boss ordered, sitting across from you with his own box of rations. “Everyone other than Scorch needs to finish up and get some sleep.”

“I would love to, Boss, but dearest Oh-Seven hasn’t brought me my meal yet.”

Sev rolled his eyes toward the cockpit. “I don’t feel like helping you out today. Get your own food.”

Scorch said, “If you insist.” You could clearly hear the sound of a restraint being unbuckled, followed by a few footsteps. The ship gave an alarming dip, spilling some of your food and pulling an alarmed gasp from you. 

Boss was on his feet before the food had landed on the table. “Scorch, sit your shebs down before I figure out a way to keep them there permanently. Sev, get Six-Two’s food before he kills us all. Fixer, get a new ration pack for her.” 

“That’s not necessary-” you protested. 

Fixer was already speaking over you. “What should I do with this one?” 

“Give it to Scorch,” Boss ordered. “She can have the fresh one.” 

“Aw, Boss…” Scorch’s complaining tone was clear even from the cockpit. “You know flying makes me hungry.” 

You wanted to melt through the seat. The last thing you wanted to do was start off your first mission by getting one of your squadmates in trouble. “It’s fine, Sergeant, really. Only a little bit spilled.” 

“Okay,” Boss said with a nod. “Did you hear that, Scorch? Only a little bit spilled. Sounds like you’ll survive the rest of the flight without starving to death.”

As you continued to insist that everything was fine, Fixer whisked the ration pack away from you and delivered it to Scorch. You bit your lip, dread weighing heavy on your stomach. It spiked sharply when you heard a soft exclamation from Scorch. 

“Oya! You only spilled the greens, civvie. That’s the worst part. Think you did me a favor…”

Your murmured reply was unintelligible, even to you. 

The situation was uncomfortable. And it was made worse by knowing that everyone knew about it. Sev and Scorch had been there when you admitted that you may not know if you were manipulating them. Even if you didn’t mean to. 

And then you had told Boss about what had happened. He had seemed sympathetic, but he had probably mentioned it to Fixer, even if the other two hadn’t. That had to be the cause of the awkwardness among the group, you were certain of it. Conversations had been stilted and laughter was nonexistent in any of the men.

Sev slid a fresh ration pack in front of you, but you only managed a few bites before you pushed it away. “I think I’m going to get some sleep.”

“You’re not going to eat any more than that?” Sev asked, eyeing your barely-touched tray. 

“No, I just…” You trailed off, uncertain of what to say. Eventually, you decided to keep to simple sentences. “No, I’m done.” 

“You should probably get a little more down,” Fixer said skeptically. “You never know when you’re going to eat on a mission. Skipping meals before you get there means you’re going to be distracted, weak-”

“Go to bed,” Boss ordered. Dimly, you recognized that he had been watching you closely throughout the short conversation, his gaze searching. Whatever he found there seemed to make him take pity on you. He nodded at the other Deltas before he returned to cleaning and reassembling his blaster. “Get some sleep.”

You were too grateful to do anything more than nod back before you scurried toward the small bunk section at the back of the ship. If the conversation shifted after you had left, you didn’t hear it. You made a point of not hearing it. 

But, to your eternal frustration, sleep wouldn’t come.

One by one, Delta followed you to the bunks - with the obvious exception of Scorch. Each one seemed to settle easily into slumber, but it eluded you. 

Eventually, you opted to slip out of the bunk entirely. Instead of lying there helplessly, you wanted to sit in the main cabin of the ship and reread the field manual the GAR had scrounged up for you. 

It seemed like a safe bet - Scorch was flying the ship while the other three were asleep, but you had barely started reading before Boss appeared. 

His sudden and silent approach made you jump, pressing a hand to your chest in an effort to calm your racing heart. When you could breathe without feeling like you were going to vomit, you asked, "What are you doing?" 

"Funny," he said, leaning against the doorway between the bunks and the main cabin. "Pretty sure I'm supposed to ask that."

"I'm reading," you offered, lifting the datapad as if to prove it.

"What you're doing is disobeying an order," Boss countered. "I told you to get some rest."

You froze, staring at him with wide eyes. He had said that, of course, but you had assumed it wasn't a real order. He had also said that a single disobeyed order would result in him kicking you out of Delta Squad…

"Relax," he told you, pushing away from the doorway to settle in a nearby seat instead. "That was a test. For future reference, I only issue official orders in war zones. Everything else is just a… strongly worded suggestion."

You nodded, gaze dropping to your twisting fingers as you tried to calm your pulse. 

Boss gave you a few minutes to settle before he spoke again. “So, knowing that it isn’t an order… wanna tell me what’s going on?” 

“Can’t sleep,” you admitted with a slight shrug. “I think I just have too many questions.”

“Questions,” Boss repeated tonelessly. 

“Yes, but I feel like I should already know the answers, so I haven’t asked them.” You gave a mirthless laugh. “I don’t enjoy wasting your time, you know.” 

When you finally snuck a look at Boss’s face, he was frowning slightly. “Why should you know the answers to questions you haven’t asked? And think of it this way: I would rather answer your questions now and know that you have all the information you need than worry about you if things get bloody.”

“I thought blood was guaranteed?” 

“This is a relief mission,” he clarified. “We might see some action, so we need to be ready for it, but it’s not like we’re dropping into an active war zone. Not this mission, anyway. So what questions do you have?”

“Can you-?” You cleared your throat and started over, wanting to sound more like a specialist gathering information and less like a lost child. “Can you give me some idea of a timeline? For our arrival, at least?” 

“Sure,” Boss said, nodding. He didn’t seem irritated by the questions, which helped ease your nerves enough to actually listen to him. “We make sure everyone is awake and fully dressed at least two hours before arrival. An hour out, we do final weapons and equipment checks. By the time we hit atmosphere, everyone needs to be prepped for landing.” 

“Do we expect it to be a bad landing?” You hadn’t experienced too many landings - just the one, actually - but you had seen enough HoloNews footage to know that you didn’t want to experience a crash. 

A new voice made you jump again, and you turned to see Sev leaning against the doorway to the bunks. His voice was even gruffer with sleep, almost hard to understand, but you tried to listen anyway. “Landings can be rough, depending on how much fire we take. Fixer will get us through the worst of it. Even if we land hard, everyone needs to be clear within fifteen seconds.”

“And the time between breaching atmosphere and landing?” you asked, struggling to gather all of the vocabulary you had learned in the past few weeks. “Do we… wear parachutes or something? What’s the protocol?” 

“Parachutes?” Boss repeated. 

“Why would you jump out of a ship in a war zone?” Sev asked, nearly scowling by that point. 

You frowned a little yourself, but more out of confusion than irritation. “Well, you know… if it’s crash-landing or something-”

“Don’t jump out of the ship,” Boss advised. 

A groan drifted from the doorway behind Sev, followed by Fixer’s voice. “Who is jumping out of a ship?” 

“The civvie,” Sev tossed back, moving over slightly so Fixer could stand bleary-eyed in the doorway beside him. “The jetii must have taught her some strange tactics.”

“Shut it, Sev,” Boss ordered, tacking on a glare for good measure. His gaze evened out when he turned back to you. “You’re always gonna be safer inside the ship, even if it’s going down. There’s too much chance of taking a blaster bolt while you’re floating above an active battlefield.”

“Are we having a meeting?” Scorch called from the cockpit. 

“No,” Fixer told him. “Civvie’s just asking some questions. Wanted to know if we were going to wear chutes when we break atmosphere.” 

“Chutes?” Scorch echoed, bewildered. “Why would we jump out of ship in the middle of a combat zone?” 

“Okay, I’ve got it,” you hurried to say, getting to your feet. “Understood. Awake and dressed two hours out, checking weapons one hour out. Ready to go when we break atmosphere. When we land, get out of the ship within fifteen seconds. If we’re not dead from being shot down.” 

“We won’t be dead,” Fixer assured you. The confident tilt to his chin made you believe him. “I’ve landed bigger ships than this in worse areas.” 

“But everything else is right,” Boss confirmed. 

Sev shrugged. “Pretty much. Though if landing is quiet, you can miss the fifteen second mark by a few seconds without as much risk.”

“Seriously, I can come back there,” Scorch offered. 

“That’s okay; we’re done,” you told him. “Thank you all. I’m going to sleep now.” 

—

To your great relief, the landing part of the mission had been simple. 

You had been ready and armored far too early, but Scorch had been too tired to do much more than laugh. Fixer had guided the ship into a smooth landing on Isiring, and the Republic’s forces had secured the area around the relief camp. Boss had advised everyone to wear helmets anyway, and you gladly followed that advice. You were always a fan of overpreparedness, and you found yourself a little shy around the unknown troopers. 

The peace didn’t last long, though. Your first task was to operate the droid lifts, shuttling fully-loaded lifts to deposit their supply crates in the correct areas while dispatching the newly empty ones back to the ship for Delta Squad to restock. It was easy work, and you were grateful for the chance to decompress and brace yourself for anything else you might be assigned to do next. 

But what you hadn’t realized was that your position as the only one outside of the ship left you surrounded by unfamiliar troopers. 

One such trooper laughed far too loudly behind you, knuckles rapping sharply against the top of your helmet in a way that made the HUD give an irritated beep. “What is going on here? I think you could have used a little more time in that growth jar, eh, vod?”

None of that made any sense to you, so you stayed silent, shoulders hunching up toward your ears as you focused on the datapad you were using to direct the droids. 

“Hey, knock it off,” another voice said, and you relaxed slightly at the intervention. “Obviously, he hasn’t learned to talk yet!” 

Uproarious laughter, then you were jostled as someone knocked your arm. It was probably a playful gesture, you knew that. But the interaction had drawn attention, and being surrounded by strangers who were all tall and broad enough to make you feel trapped… Well, it wasn’t doing wonderful things for your peace of mind. 

The sound of your name in a crackling call made you startle. “What’s wrong? Why is your heart rate so high?”

Your HUD identified the voice as belonging to Fixer. “I’m-”

The explanation, whatever it was going to be, cut off as you were jostled again. This time, it was a hard enough hit to push you forward, and you staggered slightly as you tried to keep hold of the datapad without stepping into the path of droids whirring back and forth. 

“Back off!” a harsh voice commanded and you noted with more than a little relief that Sev was closer than any of the other Deltas. Clearly, he had left the ship. 

“Or what?” one trooper called challengingly. “We’re just having some fun.”

“Fun’s over.” You couldn’t see Sev’s face, but you knew exactly how it would look - darkness simmering behind a tightly controlled expression. 

Another trooper scoffed. “You commandos think you’re so much better than us. This one won’t even talk to us.” 

That made you freeze, overcome by a strange mixture of shame and fear. A gauntleted hand entered your frame of vision, wrapping around your wrist and giving a tug. You recognized the jagged lines of red paint and let Sev pull you toward him, stepping free of the group of troopers at the same time. 

“C’mon, vod,” a trooper jeered. With your new perspective, you could see that none of them were wearing helmets, and there was a look of derision on this man’s face. “You’d be better off letting us standard troopers into the commando force. That one’s clearly defective.”

“If you men don’t have anything more important to do than harass my people, I’ll speak to your CO and see what we can figure out,” Boss said firmly, such durasteel in his tone that the troopers straightened, looking uncertain. They didn’t walk away, however, and the reason why was apparent only a moment later when an imposing figure approached you. 

“Commander Wolffe,” Boss greeted with a salute. 

“Sergeant,” the commander returned. Like his men, he wasn’t wearing a helmet. His bare face was stern, the harshness of it accentuated by the wicked-looking scar over one eye. The helmet tucked beneath one arm was painted to look like some kind of animal and his posture was precise. 

Commander Wolffe looked like a man who had little patience, and that impression was only solidified when he asked, “Why are you giving orders to my men?” 

“Permission to speak freely, sir,” Boss requested. With a glance at the men still standing nearby, he added, “And privately.”

Wolffe gave a slow nod, eyes traveling to the men behind you. They watched him eagerly and his voice was sharp as he said, “Dis-missed.”

You had never seen a group disperse so quickly.

“Your men were harassing a member of my squad,” Boss reported, removing his helmet so the other man could see the disapproval on his face. “We can all deal with jokes, but I can’t stand by and let my people be physically pushed around.” 

The commander’s gaze moved to you, critically assessing you in a way that made you want to shift uncomfortably. “Take your helmet off.” 

With your eyes hidden behind plastoid and transparisteel, you had no idea how Boss knew that you had looked at him for confirmation, but you were grateful for his subtle nod anyway. As soon as you had your sergeant’s approval, you broke the seal on your helmet and lifted it free. 

The air on Isiring was cool at best, far from cold, but it felt frigid on your face after being confined in the helmet for so long. You took a deep breath, straightened your spine, and made eye contact with Commander Wolffe. 

“This must be your first mission,” he said cryptically. You had a moment of panic, wondering what you had done so wrong that he knew you were - as Scorch said - a shiny, but a corner of Wolffe’s mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Otherwise, I would have heard about this already.”

You looked helplessly at Boss, searching for a hint about what to do next, but he looked as amused as the commander. Without any further leads, you let your manners take over. You held a hand out toward Commander Wolffe, introducing yourself as he shook it with a firm grip. “I’m a specialist assigned to work with Delta Squad.” 

“Commander Wolffe, leader of the 104th battalion,” he offered in return. “We don’t get many females out here, especially not attached to commando squads. If the men get stupid, come find me.” 

“I- will,” you stammered. “Thank you, sir.” 

Wolffe released your hand and nodded at Boss. “Sergeant.” 

“Commander.” 

And then the commander walked away. Your embarrassment, having faded during the semi-normal conversation, flared back to life as you caught sight of the dozen wide-eyed troopers watching you from the edges of the camp. You jammed the helmet back on your head and looked down at the datapad, frantically moving to catch up with the droid workers who were waiting for additional commands. 

“Hey.” 

You glanced up, attention caught by the urgency in Boss’s tone. “Yes?” 

“We have more work to do on the ship, but we’re on the same HUD loop,” he reminded. “If you have any more problems, shout ‘em out. We’ll come take care of it.” 

“Thank you, Sergeant,” you told him, but you felt yourself slump as he walked away. Half an hour on the ground and you’d already needed a rescue and caused a tense interaction between your commanding officer and the leader of the relief camp. It wasn’t an auspicious start.

---

Author's Note - I am so sorry, guys. I knew it had been a while since I last updated, but I missed that it's been EIGHT MONTHS. I post a chapter of a fic every week across my accounts (or, at least, I try), but I don't have a firm schedule about which fics get updated when.

Thank you all for your patience, assuming that anyone is still interested in this story. I can't promise that I'll start posting it super often, but I'm sure I can do better than once a year!

[mutilatemyheart]

Summary: Mij hasn't known a moment of peace while Fixer has been in the bacta tank, but the commando is finally awake, and it's time to find out how much he heard you say. Warnings: I don't think any. Attempts at flirtation. Not edited. Pairing: Fixer x fem!reader Word Count: 1098

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Mij Gilamar is many things. He’s a Mandalorian, a surgeon, a sergeant in the GAR, a damn good Sabacc player, and your newest friend. He’s kept you updated on Fixer’s condition for the past several days. He informed you early on that Fixer’s condition wasn’t quite as critical as Sev had made it out to be. You knew the Deltas were shaken seeing Fixer injured that badly. They weren’t used to having to send someone home to the medbay. The games of Sabacc helped to keep your mind off the fact that the other Deltas were now off as a three-man team in the middle of a firefight. Sure, General Jusik had gone with them, but you know it has to be difficult not having their brother with them.

The medbay doors slide open in front of you, and you’re instantly greeted by the smiling face of the Mandalorian doctor. You’re grateful they asked him to come back on as a trainer. You’re not sure that the other doctors here would view the critically injured clones as worthy of being saved. Your anger at how your friends and the other troopers are treated by the Republic grows every day, but it gives you hope to know there are some out there who truly do care about what happens to them.

“How are you today, ad’ika?” Mij asks as you make your way over to him.

“Good. Even better now,” you say with a smile. “How are you?”

“Fine, but I know you’re not here for me.” He throws a glance over his shoulder. “Fixer! You have a visitor.”

Your heart stutters at the sight of the commando sitting on the edge of the hospital bed in his blacks with a datapad in hand. He doesn’t look injured or tired anymore. He looks whole, and the smile on his face when his eyes meet yours is worth all the days of stress and heartache you’ve endured. It takes every ounce of self-control not to throw your arms around him.

“I didn’t believe him when he said you’d been by every day,” Fixer says, setting the datapad to the side and focusing his attention on you.

You turn to shoot your best evil eye at Mij, but he’s already made his exit to give you two some privacy. What else had he told Fixer. You shift your weight from one foot to the other. Does he remember what you told him that first night he was brought in?

“Of course I did. I was pestering Mij about your condition every chance I got.” You don’t trust yourself to look him in the eyes for too long, so you focus your gaze on the way his hand rests on the edge of the mattress. His fingers lightly press into the foam, and you wonder briefly what they would feel like on your skin. “I was so worried about you.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you. Though, I have to admit that it’s nice to know that someone would care if I didn’t make it…especially when that someone is you.”

“Me?” You don’t try to hide you smile when you look back up at him.

He nods. “You. It’s rare for us to meet someone who handles Scorch’s humor and Sev’s…everything as well as you have. Boss joked about making you an honorary Delta just to try to keep those two in line, but I shut that down quickly.”

You heart sinks. The chances of you ever going on a mission with them is slim to non-existent but knowing that Fixer wouldn’t want you there even if you could be stings. Maybe his brothers were wrong. Maybe he just wanted you to leave them all alone.

“Not that it wouldn’t be nice to see you more,” he continues, drawing you out of your thoughts. “But I’d never be able to focus. You’re very distracting.”

“Aren’t soldiers supposed to be able to tune out distractions?”

He tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes slightly like he’s debating his answer. “Absolutely. I can tune out most background noise like the sound of voices or nature and put my attention where it needs to be, but I can’t get you out of my mind when you’re not around. It would be impossible if you were close by.”

Your feet move on their own until you’re just a breath away from his body. The rise and fall of his chest and the deep brown of his eyes are like stepping out into fresh air after breathing in the recycled air on a ship for weeks. He’s beautiful and alive and he thinks about you when he’s gone.

“We need to celebrate your recovery.”

You run your fingers along the new scar above his jawline.

His eyes flutter shut at your touch, and you want to kiss him. You want to taste the life on his lips and feel his breath against your skin.

“You did say we could go anywhere I wanted,” he smirks.

So, he had heard you. His eyes open and search your face for any clue you regret what you had told him all those nights ago.

“I did say that, and I meant it. All of it.”

Your words seem to be confirmation enough for him as his hands find your waist and pull you closer to him. You're so close that you can count the shades of brown in his eyes. Your heart thrums in your throat as you lean forward.

“Am I interrupting?” a voice asks from somewhere behind you.

You jump away from Fixer and fight to keep the string of curse words in your mind from spilling out of your mouth. So close. You were so close to finally kissing him. You turn toward the owner of the voice, ready to tell him that yes, he was interrupting. But the words die on your tongue as a tall figure in all black armor approaches. A six-legged creature who looks like a wrinkled mass of skin stares up at you and sniffs the air curiously.

“Sergeant Vau.”

Fixer’s voice is back to its usual serious, no-nonsense tone. Any hint of the playful, flirty tone that had laced it before is gone. The tension in the air is almost suffocating.

“You should go,” Fixer says to you. His eyes don’t meet yours.

“Yeah, uhm…good night.” You throw one final glance at him before you step around Vau and make your way to the door. You almost miss the sad, quiet ‘good night’ that slips past Fixer’s lips.

[vodika-vibes]

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

that would be nice…🫣

The Delta's Jedi

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

Pairing: Clone Commando Fixer x Jedi!Reader

Word Count: 2548

Warnings: Mentions of torture (nothing detailed)

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

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

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

And, by and large, you were right.

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

After all, lightsabers are the opposite of stealthy. 

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

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

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

But, that’s a problem for later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We can be your backup.” Sev offers.

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

“A diversion.” Boss says thoughtfully.

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

“Based at different locations-” Scorch continues.

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

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

“You have my word.”

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

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

Oh well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fixer scowls, “I think I hate you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And then Fixer got snatched.”

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

*********

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

Well. With most of them.

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

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

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

Honestly. Fixer’s just confusing.

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

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

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

And then the Council assigns you a solo mission.

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

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

Famous last words, so to speak.

********

“-eneral. General, can you hear me?”

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

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

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

“Oh what?”

“Your definition of alright.”

“Are you injured?” Fixer asks.

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

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

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

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

“It’s not just me. We’re all here.”

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*********

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

“And that worked?”

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

You laugh weakly, “You would never.”

“If we lost you, we just might.”

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

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

You drop your arm and blink at him in surprise.

“You seem surprised.”

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

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

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

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

“Go ahead.”

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

“And what’s that?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh…so-”

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

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

“I taste like bacta.”

“Don’t care, and also not an answer.”

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

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

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

[bwabys-scenarios]

how do you think the zoldyck family would react seeing how killua and (name) act with each other in fixer upper?

like him calling her mom, etc

This is actually a pretty helpful question, because they will be meeting with his family in the future!

Silva: sees this as an opportunity to use you to bring Killua home. when you don’t accept his gifts and money in exchange for convincing killua to come home, he gets a little pissed.

Kikyo: Oh she loathes you. Her precious baby is calling you mom, clinging to you for comfort!? If Silva would allow it, you would be dead already

Zeno: He’s one of the more normal people, and sees you a kind and nurturing person. He knows that killua loves you dearly, and would break if you were to get hurt

Illumi: at first, he is similar to Silva in seeing you as a way to bring Killua home. He asks you out on a date to try and woo you. If he has your heart, he’ll also have killua in the palm of his hand. But… you’re kind. He sees how much you genuinely love and care for Killua and… it makes him feel a certain way. He’s never seen someone care for another in such a way. Illumi thinks he’s fallen in love at first, and follows you around for a bit, but he actually sees you as a mother figure

Kalluto: Honestly he’s a bit jealous of Killua. He wants that same motherly love, to have someone protect and nurture him. Maybe in the future you’re able to do just that for him!

Milluki: thinks you’re attractive, but doesn’t really care much besides that

Alluka: you’re like her big sister! she always clings to you when she visits, tugging on your sleeve and giggling as she clings to you!

[toska-writes]

“Sleeping/Cuddling Clone Headcannons p.2”

Read p.1 here (✩)

Clones x GN padawan reader ( You could technically read it either way but in my head it’s all Platonic)

Bad batch and Delta squad version!

Wish me luck I have to get up early tomorrow- too bad I don’t have a clone to snuggle

(I could make another with the Corrie guard or another group)

Hunter

• Dad mode has already engaged once you asked him if you could bunk with him

• It’s a very quick yes and most of the other Bad Batch members go to him to bunk with whenever they need

• Big spoon all day and just wants you to be as close as possible to him- your heart beat takes up most of his senses so he can fall asleep

•He is your own blanket and will make sure you get enough sleep

• Will sleep so your against the wall and his back is facing out OR your both have your backs facing the wall just in case he needs to watch something by the door

• Will do that especially when your scared

Crosshair

• He’s a small spoon- so he can also spoon his precious riffle

• the first time you even tried to get into the same bunk as him he pushed you out

• I feel like the first time you properly slept pressed up next to him was in some cave when you all got separated on a mission and had to wait the night out together

• He would mumble and grumble but deep down he would jump any time you moved, wanting you to stay asleep

•Bone crushing grip- your not getting up unless he’s awake. He’d be the type to ground you

Tech

• His datapad crashes into his face every few seconds

• But he would pull up different holo-videos and such to help the both of you fall asleep

•He sleeps on his side facing the wall??? Idk I get that vibe from him. Has no concerns with the boogeyman apparently

• More often then not you have to take his googles off for him so they won’t break

• if you can get him to sleep in an actual bunk it’s a miracle and not in the pilots seat or slumped on a desk

Wrecker

• Ecstatic when you bring up the idea

• Is more than happy to make room for you on his bunk and even give you lula to snuggle with as well

• He’s so warm and inviting your asleep instantly

• My man also snores like a engine starting up but will get all flustered and worried if you bring it up

• If your scared or anything during the night he is more than happy to stay up on watch if it eases your mind- he also verbally comforts you

Boss

• 100% would allow you to bunk with him if you asked no matter what

• If he can keep an eye on one of the migraines in the night it’s a win for him

• in reality he’s a huge pillow- completely comforting without all his armor on

• The fact that you would feel so safe in his arms I can’t even describe well enough in words to do it justice

• also I feel like this man would have so many blankets on his bed you’d both be piled under them

Sev

• Straight up no in the first place

• The first time you got him it was late already and he was going back to his bunk- you were already there with many blankets and stuff

• He tells you to get out at first but honestly your both way to tired (and stubborn) to listen

• With a sigh he’ll practically pushes you to your own side

• will stay as far away as possible until at one point in the middle of the night he will turn over and roll his eyes and then pull you flush against him- denies it in the morning

Fixer

• Talks to fall asleep- he’ll tell you all about what interesting things he has read today and would love to share the details

• He deserves more love and I think for cuddling it would be the hug sort of thing

•Face to Face completely wrapped up in each other- nothing else would even matter in these moments

• You’ll have to know Fixer for a while before bunking with him, but once you earn his trust and the group accepts you it’s so much easier

• Drools a lot but man needs a good sleep like that

Scorch

• Loud and very full of energy at almost every hour of the day

• if you get this man to lay down cause he needs the sleep he would be all over you with cuddles

• watching the stars or the rain fall outside really helps him to sleep and like Fives I think he takes up a lot of room in his bunk

• He just needs love- head and shoulder scratches gets him to sleep very quickly, and don’t think he wouldn’t do it for you to

• something about the motion and feeling over and over again just lulls him into a slumber

_____________________________________

Taglist; @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @lightwise @carodealmeida

[ersatz-ostrich]

literally one of my favorite Republic Commando fics ever. I just can’t stop coming back to it 😩

Dress Code (Fixer x gn!reader)

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

Word Count: 4,300

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the comm bead went quiet in your ear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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[terrence-silver]

The thought of beloved with an “I can fix him” mentality is so funny

Also Terry playing along with it because he finds it humorous that beloved believes he can be “fixed”

Thing is, I don't figure Terry Silver believes there's a single thing wrong with him.

Quite the contrary; At the height of the 1980's especially, I imagine he might be entirely convinced he's doing fantastic after the war. Look at him! He's the incarnation of the American Dream! Not only did he put the war behind like his father instructed him to do, he's embraced it with pride and he has thrived excessively since. Because, think about it; he started out as a scrawny, shy, clumsy kid, and he got out of the ordeal a survivor, a Billionaire, confident, buff, muscular, a martial artist, a business mogul, a fighter; all the stereotypical markers of masculinity and success. He got out of as the best version of himself through dedication, devotion and hard work. Sweat and blood. If anything, he'd think he's already 'fixed' and that he 'fixed' himself. That he was the architect of everything he become. So, if someone came along wanting to 'fix him', he might not just only play along and find it humorous but he might just be...oh, I don't know, downright confused. Bordering on offended, I might say. Because, what do you mean!? Fix him!? What is there to fix about perfection!?

You've got to be kidding me, right, he might say!

It's only after the 80's end and he goes to therapy during an undisclosed set of years that he would perhaps start realizing he's not in fact okay, but it took some odd forty years to him to get to that conclusion as an older (?) man. Then and only then would he be maybe open to the notion of someone else helping him, but even that's a short lived, flimsy thing that would leave a bad aftertaste in his mouth because he'd see it as him needing to become something he's not in order to garner someone's love and devotion. That he'd need to somehow change to be accepted. That parts of him need to be chipped away. Neutered. Shaped. Transformed. That he needs to be out here eating Tofu, keeping the company of people he doesn't like and that he's certain don't know or like him either and living a life that doesn't appeal to him all over again. If anything, if beloved came along wanting to fix him, he might go the route of being an absolutist outright claim he wants to be seen and perceived as he is or not at all.