#RC-1140

[mutilatemyheart]

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.

[savethegalaxythroughshenanigans]

Scorch: Do you think I could fit fifteen marshmallows in my mouth?

Boss and Fixer, in tandem: You're a hazard to society.

Sev: And a coward. Do twenty.

[forgottenchapterszine]

⭐GUEST PREVIEW⭐

Our next preview is by another one of our guest contributors, Elias! Here is a sneak peek of their art. Remember the link is for our shop! Pre-orders open January 13th of next year.

[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.

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

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

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Just finished Republic Commando (2005) for the first time, nobody touch me.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Based on no evidence whatsoever, I headcanon that Fixer has excellent taste in music. He can and will hook you TF up with incredible bands you've never heard of, and if he makes you a mixtape playlist, he's basically asking for your hand in marriage.

Scorch once called one of Fixer's playlists a "Fixtape," and Sev threatened to shoot him if he ever said that word again.

[owlzshitshow]

incorrect quotes i generated a while back while drafting the delta squad on tantiss AU

I MADE THESE BEFORE THE FINALE SEV IS ALIVE IN THIS AU BTW (FOR NOW)

[arcsimper5]

Star Wars Headcanons

Delta Squad:

*Sev and Scorch constantly get into physical squabbles, but that's all it is, a squabble. They spent enough time being pitched against each other in training by Walon Vau that they have no desire to physically harm each other. Instead, they end up having slap fights, hitting each others hands until one of them gets bored and simply pushes the other over, declaring victory.

*Fixer has the largest and most diverse porn collection anyone in the galaxy has ever seen. It's categorised to perfection, and hidden behind fifteen layers of encryption. He doesn't even watch it much, he just likes being able to give the exact title of whatever saucy film Scorch is talking about and watch the look of utter disbelief on his brother's face.

*Boss 100% wears cologne. He'll deny it until he's blue in the face, no-one knows where he got it or what it's called, but every time he takes his helmet off, a warm, spicy, woody scent manifests. Boss pleads ignorance.

Scorch is ridiculously good at dejarik. No-one knows how, but every time he's at a table, he kicks the shebs of anyone he's pitted against. The Deltas have used this to their advantage to get credits in tight spots before. If asked where he learnt to play, Scorch simply shrugs and says he 'picked it up'.

Sev suffers from chronic pain in his leg. It was caused in a training accident where he broke his leg and Vau pulled him out of bacta early to carry on training. It never fully healed, and it plays up in cold weather. The others know, and sometimes Boss will slow down their pace so Sev isn't pushed too hard, though none of them will ever admit it.

Scorch is the youngest of the group and they are super protective of him, though they'll never admit it. After his accident during training where he got his name, he almost didn't make it and was left with a lot of scarring.

They took turns applying bacta and redressing his wound, with Boss even telling Vau to leave them be while he recovered, which took a lot of guts.

Dividers by the amazing @stars-n-spice

[sevscyarika]

Scorch: She’s sittin’ up there talkin’ about “i wasn’t romantic enough”.

Sev: That’s petty.

Boss & Fixer: *nods*

Scorch: Exactly! I was like, “Bitch, I’m not romantic?? I ate 6 cookies outta ya ass!!”

Boss: *spits out caf*

Scorch: So I don’t give a fuck what she was talkin’ about- I don’t know where-

Sev: YOU WHAT.

[mutilatemyheart]

Summary: You haven't heard from Fixer since the almost kiss. Now's he's at your door asking to come in. Warnings: There's like one curse word. Pairing: Fixer x fem!reader Word Count: 1169

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The overhead light buzzes like an irritated insect in your tiny room. Your caf has long gone cold, and the grey walls aren’t doing much to improve your mood. You’re not sure which is worse: the constant annoying sound that seems to seep into your skin or the waiting. You know they’re back on Coruscant. Scorch had sent you a transmission that their campaign had been a success, and they would ‘be back on Triple Zero in two rotations.’ Of course, it had been Scorch to let you know. You haven’t heard from Fixer in weeks. Not since the almost kiss in the medbay. You two have been teetering on the edge of something more than friends, but now, you’re not sure where you stand with him. Had he decided that he didn’t want to be with you after all? Had Vau discouraged him from being with you? You wish he’d just tell you what happened.

You’re half-tempted to go search for him yourself. Even if it is just a quick glance at a distance, you’ll feel better putting your eyes on him. Just to make sure he’s okay, of course. It’s not like you have to speak to him or approach or –

Two sharp knocks on your door echo around you. Crossing the room on shaky legs, you stand by the control panel and wait to see if they knock again. The last time someone knocked on your door, it was Sev telling you that Fixer was injured. Is that why he hasn’t contacted you? 

They knock again, and you hit the buttons to open it. Peeling green paint on white Katarn armor greets you. Fixer’s helmet is tucked under his right arm, and he stares back at you with tired brown eyes. Damn your stupid heart for beating so loudly.

“May I come in?” he asks.

His voice is calm and steady, and if he’s nervous, he’s hiding it well. So, why is your stomach in knots? Why do you feel like his words have the ability to shatter you into a million pieces at his feet? Your heart is just another target waiting for him to eliminate.

You nod and step back to let him enter. He takes in the cramped quarters that the GAR has given you. He keeps his back to you as if looking at you again might be dangerous. You focus your eyes on the glowing blue “40” on his backpack and cross your arms.

“Is there something you need, Fixer?” You try to match his tone.

He releases a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling. It almost seems like he’s readying himself to take on an opponent. He turns to face you and takes a step forward but changes his mind and retreats backward again.

“I know every GAR regulation. I know protocol for every situation on the battlefield. I could calibrate my Deece blinded if I had to.” He moves to place his helmet on the little table that had been given to you for a desk. He stares down into the t-visor as if it will tell him what to say to you. “I’m a good soldier, but I don’t know how to be anything else.”

You open your mouth to tell him that he’s so much more than a soldier, but he continues before you can speak.

 “There aren’t guidelines or textbooks for what to do when you’re in love with someone, and Sergeant Vau sure as hell didn’t teach us. I can’t prepare for this, and I don’t know what I’m doing and that scares me.”

In love with someone.

You try to bite back your smile as you close the gap between you. He balls his hands into fists against the table top.

“I think that may be the most you’ve ever said to me at one time,” you joke, trying to lighten his mood.

Fixer sighs and rolls his eyes.

“But if it makes you feel any better,” you continue. “No one ever really knows what they’re doing when it comes to love. We just do our best and hope that’s enough.”

“No, that doesn’t make me feel better,” he mutters.

“What do you want to do, Fixer?” You run your fingers gently along his jawline and give him what you hope is an encouraging smile. “Just say what you want. That’s all you have to do.”

He swallows thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Having a choice in life wasn’t something a clone was used to, and this is something he has to decide for himself. There are no COs or Jedi telling him what to do. Had he discussed this with his brothers? Do the other Deltas know that he’s awkwardly standing in your room telling you that he’s in love with you? Had they encouraged him to tell you? They all know how you feel about their brother. It’s not a secret you kept well hidden.

“Any relationship we could have would end in tears,” Fixer says. He relaxes his hands and places them palm down on the table. “Probably yours. I wasn’t created for a long life even if I do survive the war. But… if the opportunity is still available to see where this catastrophe leads us, I’d like to see it through to the end.”

 You laugh, unsure of whether this is the best way you’ve ever been asked to be with someone or the worst. Does he truly think there is no chance for you two to have a happy ending? You hope not, but if he does, you’ll just have to make him believe otherwise. He deserves to be happy.

“The opportunity is still available. I can take the pain if this doesn’t end how we want it to. You’re worth it. Any time I’m given with you is worth it.”

He gives you a rare smile. “Uh, so, what is protocol in this situation?”

 You tilt your head and pretend to debate your answer. “Hmm. Well, you could kiss me,” you suggest.

“Yes, sir,” he breathes.

He leans toward you but stops just short of placing his lips to yours. His eyes search your face as if silently asking if this is really what you want. If he is really what you want. You grab the back of his neck and pull him in the rest of the way, your lips melding together in a clumsy kiss. His hands find your hips to ground himself. Or maybe he wants to be sure this is real. Please, you think to yourself, let this be real.

He breaks the kiss and places his forehead to yours.

“Scorch was right,” he whispers, his breath a ghost on your skin. “I should have done that a long time ago.”

“We have all night to make up for lost time,” you whisper back, afraid to break the bubble of peace that you two have found.

“And I don’t plan on wasting any of it.”

He pulls you in again.

[savethegalaxythroughshenanigans]

*During a training session in which the squad is split in half*

Fixer: On our side, we have facts, science, and reason. All Scorch has is determination and teenage adrenaline.

Fixer: ...

Fixer: Oh maker, he's gonna win.

[panther-os]

"The first inter-unit adoption was when Alpha-17's CC training squad adopted CT-7567/Rex and convinced their trainer to go along with it" is actually a common misconception.

The real first adoption was when Delta Squad's RCs adopted CC-5576-39/Gregor and got their trainer's strill attached to the younger clone so Vau didn't have a choice but to accept it.

[ersatz-ostrich]

giggling and twirling my hair

Prompt: Fixer + Armor Fitting

This ended up being a bit less fluffy and a bit more tension-filled, but I got a kick out of writing it, so enjoy! To request your own fluffy fic, read the rules here and drop a request in my inbox!

—

“I still don’t see why this is necessary,” you complained, waiting for the armory droid to come back with another set of armor. 

Fixer pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously as fed up with you as you were with him. “Again, if you’re going to go out on missions with us, we need to make sure that you have the gear you need to survive.”

“And how did you end up on escort duty, again?” 

“That’s just how things worked out,” he deflected. A second later, he muttered something that sounded like, “Also, Boss cheats at sabacc.”

You laughed at that and Fixer glared. Before he could say something that would escalate the situation, the droid came back with a new stack of plastoid.

“This will be closer to the correct size,” the droid chirped, holding the armor out to you. Obligingly, you accepted it and set about attaching the pieces to the modified black body glove you wore. 

The process was slow, almost painfully so. You had never been asked to wear armor with any of the other units you had been attached to and had retained only a passing knowledge of the different plates until about an hour ago. Now you had the process down, but it wasn’t remotely fast. The droid powered down while it waited for you and Fixer grew increasingly impatient.

Eventually, he sighed one too many times and your temper got the best of you. “I don’t need you here for this to be awful. Can you do us both a favor and wait in the mess?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Fixer snapped. “Putting on armor is a process that should take three minutes, not twenty.”

Keep reading

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Fixer 💚

String 'em along and we'll mop 'em up.

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