#delta squad x fem!reader

[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

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

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!

[wanderinginksplot]

Refuge Chapter Seven

You have a little time to kill before your first mission. Delta Squad has very different ideas of how you should spend it.

Continued slow burn Delta Squad x fem!reader

Word Count: 6,600

Warnings: feelings of alienation, mentions of lack of money, misunderstandings, light discussion of weapons and battle tactics, slight embarrassment.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

When Scorch had mentioned finding a fun way to spend time planetside, he had apparently meant it literally. He and Sev walked you to the front entrance to the Temple and unceremoniously led the way outside. 

Scorch had already started walking away, chattering about places he enjoyed, when you stepped through the towering doors. You paused when you were out, taking a moment to adjust to the differences between what you were used to and what you actually found on Coruscant.

To be fair, those differences were hardly surprising. Coruscant was densely populated and heavily polluted. The outside air wouldn’t feel fresh, cool and faintly scented with pine needles like you were accustomed to on Voubos. But you were never ready for the hot, semi-stagnant waft tinged with the exhaust of innumerable speeders flying overhead.

More than the disappointing atmosphere, Coruscant was overwhelming, so bright your eyes stung to look around. Voubos could be noisy and had its fair share of sunshine, but there were no trees to shelter you from it here. The street outside the Jedi Temple was one of the few that hadn’t been choked by buildings, and it left the sun beating down on the duracrete expanse where you stood. The vicious light was blocked only by the occasional shadow of a speeder passing overhead, like a less-pleasant version of the clouds that performed the same function back home. 

And none of it was silent. The speeder engines were noisy, the people were noisy. Everything was undercut by the rumble of far-off machinery and the drone of hovering screens broadcasting the most recent Senate debate. It was loud enough that you almost didn’t register the sound of someone speaking directly to you. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Sev’s harsh voice managed to cut through the stimuli surrounding you. You shook your head. “I’m still getting used to all of this..”

“You came here from the GAR headquarters,” he countered, frowning. “And you tailed us from there again today.”

“Commander Gree brought us in a transport the first time and I was too scared to see anything more than a blur,” you explained, still transfixed by the chaos surrounding you. “When I found you earlier, I was focused. I had something to get done. And now…”

“Now, you don’t have a mission to concentrate on,” Sev summarized. 

You grimaced. “Exactly. I’m sorry, I know I must seem… I’m sorry.”

Sev shook his head. “Remind me later and I’ll tell you about my first time on a planet other than Kamino.”

“Why not now?” you asked. 

“First, I don’t want to scare you,” he said ominously. Then he nodded behind you. “Second, we’re about to have company.”

Before you could wonder about the second part of that, Scorch came jogging up to the two of you. “What’s going on? I thought you were following me.”

“Just taking a minute to look around,” Sev told him. 

“We’ve all been here before, Sev,” Scorch reminded, exasperation in his face and voice. “No need to play tour guide.”

Sev - standing slightly behind you - must have made some kind of face at Scorch, who abruptly changed his stance. “Or, I suppose there might be a little need to play tour guide. But I’m the much better choice for it.”

He beckoned you closer and you obligingly followed him to the edge of one of the regular gaps that provided entrance to the lower levels. Scorch gestured toward it, though it was partially hidden behind the utilitarian fences that kept passers-by from getting too close. “Do you know what’s down there?”

With a smile at his hushed, conspiratorial tone, you nodded. “It’s another level. I understand there are five thousand of them.”

“Oh,” Scorch said, seeming to deflate slightly. 

Sev laughed at his brother, joining you in staring toward the fence-flanked space. “Five thousand plus a few, but yeah. I take it you did some research about the planet?”

You nodded. “But there are a few things I still don’t really understand.” 

“Like what?” Sev asked. 

“How do they make sure the levels are tall enough?” you asked, feeling utterly ridiculous. But the question had been bothering you, and this was a good opportunity to get some answers. “Do they just base the height of the ceilings on the tallest known species and go from there? Or are different levels different heights?”

Sev was staring at you blankly, which made you more nervous, but Scorch tipped his head back with a look of understanding. “Ahh, I get it. You’re thinking too small, nattie. Levels aren’t just for beings to walk around on. Each one is big enough to have buildings and speeder lanes and stuff. There’s no need to base them on specific heights.”

“They’re that big?” you asked, feeling suddenly queasy with vertigo. It was strange, fearing heights with your feet planted firmly on the ground, but you were also cognizant of the fact that you were far, far from the surface of the planet itself.

Scorch nodded sagely. “Yep. And each one has more species than you can count calling it home.”

“You good?” Sev asked, fingertips grazing your elbow lightly. 

You were gaping, you knew it. When you spoke, your voice was hushed and a little unsteady. “How are there any people left to live on other planets?”

“There are plenty more people in the galaxy,” Sev told you, amusement filling his deep voice. “Trust me, we’re fighting about half of ‘em.”

“You’re just not used to seeing this many life-forms,” Scorch informed you. “This is the most heavily populated planet in the galaxy. Your planet wasn’t anything compared to this.”

You hadn’t thought about Voubos very often since you had started training with the Jedi. Still, it was jarring to hear someone mention it, especially so casually. It made you feel like your life was a statistic, an incidental casualty almost too small to be counted. Not even - your life hadn’t been lost or taken, simply changed. You weren’t even significant enough to be a statistic.

Suddenly, you felt dizzy again, overwhelmed by something so much larger than yourself. But this time, instead of the planet’s population, the feeling had been brought on by the staggering largeness of the war. 

The only thing that brought you out of it was an unexpected noise. The sound could only be described as the sound of a plastoid-covered hand striking a plastoid-covered chest. It was followed shortly by a growl from Sev. “Shut up, di’kut.” 

“Sorry,” Scorch muttered. “I forgot natties are sentimental about that kind of thing.”

“It’s okay.” They both looked skeptical about your reassurance, but you smiled and changed the subject before they could add anything else. “So, what are we going to do? Did you have a plan for what you want to see today?”

“Whatever you wanna see,” Scorch told you with a shrug. “Explore as much as you want.”

Sev nodded. “We’re only here to make sure you aren’t attacked. Or fall off a building.”

That low opinion of your survival skills aside, you were warmed by the thoughtfulness and started off in a direction you decided looked promising. 

The time you spent on Coruscant took on a strange quality. Everything you saw was wonderful, every experience unlike any other you had ever had before. But, looking back, you could hardly catch more than a blur. 

You saw shops filled with goods both familiar and utterly mystifying. The streets were packed to bursting with beings, many of them belonging to species you had never seen before. Street performers playing strange instruments tried to entice passers-by to dance while stern, armored troopers ordered them to keep moving. 

You couldn't help sneaking a glance at the red and white helmet as you walked past. Both the Republic and the Separatist Alliance had distributed propaganda on Voubos, so they weren't unfamiliar to you. But you hadn't realized how imposing they would be with their blankly watching visors and the blasters strapped to their thigh plates.

With your focus so close on one trooper, you completely missed another standing on the opposite side of the path. Unfortunately, your lack of attention meant that you bumped into him, swiping him with your shoulder. 

He didn’t move in the slightest except to look down at you. In contrast, the slight collision had sent you staggering and you offered apologies even as you tried to recover your balance. 

“Watch yourself, civilian,” the trooper ordered. You couldn’t see his expression, but his tone managed to be disdainful even through the small speakers of his helmet. 

“Didn’t you hear her say ‘sorry’?” Sev asked, his deep voice lashing out from behind you. 

“And that’s more than you deserve, di’kut,” Scorch told him dismissively. “Anyone could see it was an accident.”

The trooper bristled, taking an aggressive half-step forward. “Hey, just because you’re-”

“Drop it,” the other trooper advised through the crowd. “Not worth the paperwork.”

The closer trooper looked Scorch and Sev up and down. He didn’t bother including you in that. Seemingly to himself, he muttered, “Commandos.”

“What was that?” Sev asked. 

If Sev took things any further, it was going to get physical. If it got physical, Scorch would join in. If Scorch joined in, it would be a brawl. Would you be pulled off of working with Delta Squad if half of them started a brawl with the Coruscant Guard? Instinct told you yes, but the Republic was short-staffed… But you weren’t taking any chances.

“Sorry again,” you called loudly, cutting off whatever else anyone might say. Your push against Scorch’s shoulder wasn’t gentle, but it was effective. Sev was more of a challenge, and you ended up bracing both hands between his shoulder blades and shoving. It wasn’t at all effective, but he let you move him. “We’ll just be on our way!”

The moment you had gotten through the press of the small crowd, Sev let out a string of blistering curses in an unfamiliar language. You watched in something like awe while Scorch gave you an amused look. When Sev had finished, Scorch asked, “Feeling any better?”

“No,” Sev grumbled. “I should have hit him.”

“I don’t think any of us are interested in seeing the inside of a Corrie Guard holding cell,” Scorch said lightly. “What’s next?”

As the second part of that had been directed at you, you glanced around. “I’m not sure. Are either of you getting hungry?”

Sev gave you a look you couldn’t quite figure out until Scorch added, “Always.”

You were, as well. “Well, something smells fantastic! I think it’s coming from over here…”

A nearby stand was offering street food, roasted meat and hunks of bread paired with a variety of sauces for dipping either into. The worker standing there belonged to a species you couldn’t name, though you had seen some of them around. They had a humanoid build with green, leathery skin. Their face had folds and curves that made you think their bone structure was slightly different than that of humans, but similar enough to know that they were offering a polite smile.

“Looking for something in particular?” The low tone and roughness of the worker’s voice made you think they were male, but there was no way to know for sure without asking, and that would have been inexcusably rude.

“It all looks incredible,” you told them, flashing a smile between staring at the array of foods spread out on the stand’s preparation surface.

“Only the best at Kiaba’s.” It was always risky trying to interpret the facial expressions of humanoid species, but from the clear pride that shone from their bearing, you assumed that you were speaking with the very Kiaba who owned the stand. 

You wanted to get a closer look at the food, but before you could take more than a step, Scorch had caught at your elbow. He leaned close, and for a wild moment, you thought he was going to kiss your cheek. 

He didn’t, of course. His lips ended up a scant distance from your ear instead, keeping Kiaba from overhearing. “We don’t have any credits, and this side of the city isn’t too willing to give their goods away.”

“Especially Klatoonians,” Sev added, half-turning away from Kiaba, who was watching you curiously from behind the stand’s main counter. “The culture believes in the value of hard work, but they take it to extremes. They consider any charity to be stealing someone’s chance to earn something the right way.”

You sent Kiaba a regretful smile. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been informed that we don’t have any credits.”

The professional half-smile that had stretched Kiaba’s lips disappeared in an instant as they scowled. “No handouts.”

“Of course not,” Scorch muttered, definitely loud enough for Kiaba to hear. Their scowl deepened and they leaned forward as if they were half-thinking about jumping over the workstation to beat some sense into an upstart customer.

So you cut in, avoiding Sev's attempt to stop you. "Sorry about the confusion! While we're talking, though, can you tell me what that dish is. The one right… there?" 

You gestured to something that looked like a pocket of dough, crimped at the edges, with hints of a warm orange seeping through in certain spots. It looked like a normal piece of dough, other than the spots, but it smelled of deep spices and roasted vegetables. 

Kiaba shook their head. "I can't take time outta my day to explain my menu to people who aren't even gonna buy something. I have paying customers."

"Where?" Scorch challenged. "We're the closest thing you have to customers within a five-klick radius!"

To Scorch’s credit, that was true. The area in front of Kiaba’s stand wasn’t empty - the size of the city made that nearly impossible - but no one seemed compelled to look at the food, much less stop. 

“Of course you don’t have to talk with us if you’re busy,” you assured. “I just want to understand it to see if I can find something similar in the future when I do have some credits.”

“You’d never find anything like my tisuh,” Kiaba told you, their tone a mixture of irritation and pride. “There are others who make it, but no one who does it as well as I do.”

You nodded, offering an encouraging smile. Kiaba watched you suspiciously before heaving a loud sigh. They beckoned you closer, dishing up one of the dough pockets so you could examine it more closely against the light brown of a simple disposable plate. 

“Tisuh is found many places in the galaxy,” they explained. “It is dough wrapped around a filling. There are as many kinds of tisuh as there are people who make it. Everyone has their own recipes, but the best one is found on Klatooine, where I’m from. My forebears have been making this dish for thousands of years, for millions of people. Wherever I am…” Kiaba took a bite of the pale round, showing you the orange-sauced filling inside as they chewed and gave a blissful tilt of their head, “it always reminds me of home.”

The watering of your mouth halted as you wondered what would remind you of Voubos. Everything, you expected, but you still managed a nod for Kiaba. “That’s lovely. I’m happy you have such a strong tie to things that bring you joy.”

“Where’s home for you?” they asked, taking another bite of food. 

“Nowhere, not anymore,” you admitted softly. “I’m looking for a new one.”

The green-skinned being finished chewing and watched you silently. You held their gaze, waiting to hear more about their tie to the tisuh or be told to leave, but Kiaba sighed again. They set their half-eaten food aside, deposited two more tisuh onto a new plate, and held it out to you. “You might as well have a full stomach while you look.”

The smile that spread across your face was instant and - you could feel it - delighted. It was nice to be reminded that there were kind and generous beings in the galaxy, no matter how rare they seemed. “Thank you, Kiaba. I appreciate it.”

From behind you, there came the sound of a throat being pointedly cleared. Kiaba rolled their dark eyes. “I guess I can spare a few for your friends.”

“I appreciate that, too,” you told them with a slow nod to show your gratitude. “As do my friends.”

It took a stern look from you to prompt Scorch and Sev into thanks, which were muttered without an ounce of sincerity. Kiaba seemed unconvinced, but the astonishment you felt when you took your first bite of tisuh brought something almost prideful to their expression.

The dough was tender and delicate, falling away to reveal a filling that seemed to be made up of mostly vegetables. They were tender, with just enough variation in texture for you to recognize that the filling had several different kinds of vegetables in it. All of them had been stewed in a thick sauce that was toward the upper limit of your spice tolerance, but the heat was dampened slightly by the coolness of the bready dough that had surrounded the filling.

“This…” you started, pausing for a moment while your brain tried to choose between speech and shoving more food into your mouth. “Kiaba, this is incredible!” 

“I know,” Kiaba told you with the closest thing you had seen to a smile on their face. 

You returned to inhaling your tisuh. Sev and Scorch were silent, but you could tell that they also liked the food by the speed they were eating. Even so, your plate was the first one empty and you disposed of it in a nearby waste receptacle. 

“My apologies for my friends,” you told Kiaba, earning a glare from Scorch. Sev ignored you entirely. “I can see why you were worried about a sudden flood of customers. I’m not sure how you have any tisuh that hasn’t been purchased already, but I thank you for sharing the excess with us. Your kindness is most appreciated.”

Kiaba waved you away. “Been kinda slow today, actually. Lucky for you all.”

Scorch appeared over your shoulder, peering down toward your hands. “Do you have any you’re not going to-? Oh, you’re already finished. You know, most females wouldn’t have been able to eat all of that.”

“Well, most females don’t have Kiaba’s excellent tisuh to motivate them,” you countered. “I think that’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten!”

A dozen or so passersby glanced over at you curiously at the fervent praise. Some came to look at Kiaba’s selection of foods, and you were amused to see that a small line formed as you watched. 

Kiaba glanced from the line to you, their dark eyes traveling to Sev next. They pointed a stubby green finger at Scorch and Sev. “You two keep this to yourselves. I’m not running a clone charity. This was a one-time thing. I don’t want to see clones coming around here asking for handouts.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sev muttered while Scorch made a rude gesture behind him. Fortunately, Kiaba was too busy tending to the line to pay much attention to their antics, and you managed to pull the commandos away before they could say anything else. 

The three of you walked in silence for a while, but it started to grow uncomfortable. You rubbed your stomach and let out a contented sigh. “That was great.”

Sev nodded. “Better than the usual stuff.”

That made you remember to ask what you should have asked earlier. “So you guys don’t have any credits at all? How do you eat when you’re on Coruscant?”

“GAR mess hall,” Sev told you. “Or there’s a civvie place nearby that gives clones food occasionally. Some sympathizer. Feels bad for us.”

“Oh.” There seemed to be very few responses to that, but you ventured, “Nice?”

“Yeah, but it can get a little old,” Scorch said. “We don’t mind eating the same food over and over - ration bars’ll train you right up for that - but it’s nice to have something different now and then.”

You nodded understandingly. Anyone would get tired of the same food over and over again. “That’s valid. Even if it’s charity, that doesn’t mean you need to want it all the time.”

When Sev spoke, it was so sudden that he interrupted whatever Scorch had intended to say. “How much of that was Jedi osik?”

Scorch’s protests cut off and you felt the weight of their scrutiny on your face. All you could offer was the truth. “I’m not really sure.”

“I thought you learned to control it,” Scorch said. 

“I am, it’s- it’s a long process,” you reminded them both. “It’s hard to know when I’m using the Force, because I’ve spent my whole life thinking it was just part of who I am and how I relate to people.”

The silence was deafening - which was a trick, considering the sheer number of people surrounding you as you walked through the city streets - until it was broken by Scorch. He sounded unusually serious, enough so that you actually looked over at him. “Never use that on us. Just… don’t.”

“I won’t,” you assured him instantly, stung by the insinuation that you would try to make them do something by force rather than conversation or negotiation. 

“You might not know, though, right?” Sev pointed out. 

“...Right,” you agreed, voice quiet. You hated to admit it, but you refused to lie to them. There was every chance you wouldn’t be able to recognize when you were influencing their will. 

The silence that fell between the three of you was tense. When Scorch suggested that you go back to the GAR’s barracks, you didn’t argue. 

When you arrived at the barracks, Boss and Fixer were waiting for you. 

“About time,” Fixer grumbled. “I knew Six-Two couldn’t read a chronometer, but I thought better of you, Oh-Seven.”

“Shove it, Fixer,” Scorch retorted. “We’re not on a mission. And fifteen extra minutes is nothing in civvie time.”

“C’mon, we have places to be,” Boss ordered, offering only a brief nod to Scorch and Sev. He gestured for you to follow him as he walked away. 

You glanced at the others. Sev’s expression was blank while Scorch’s was an amused mask. Fixer started walking in the direction Boss had gone, tilting his head for you to come along.

Gradually, the signage told you that you were approaching the armory. Every door you passed was just like every other, a gray door set in a gray wall. They were double the width of a standard door, leaving no hint about what lay behind or what typically was transported in or out. When you finally stopped, Boss had to enter a code into a control panel set into the wall and scan a spot on his arm before the door would open. From the noise it made while it slid, it was heavier than normal - most likely armored to withstand any attempts to break in. Even then, you entered into a narrow, shallow hallway that led directly to another door with the same control panel and scanner. Boss opened that armored door as well and you entered the room.

When you stepped through, you were taken aback by the sheer size of the armory. Just ahead of you was a waiting area, complete with hard durasteel benches set into the walls for people to sit while they awaited their chance to speak with the clerk. The clerk’s desk was set behind another wall - though this one did not reach the towering ceiling. It was guarded by a transparisteel barrier that looked resistant to blaster fire, though there was a speaker set into it so people could speak to the clerk. 

Behind the clerk’s chair, you could see rows of doorways holding different types of weapons. Each entrance was covered by a ray shield. There were shelves in the middle of the space that held the additional necessities - everything from kamas to harnesses that would support heavy weapons for the wearer - and at the back of the room, you could see a practice range. There was more around the edges of the space, you were sure, but it was hidden by the half-wall and the clerk was beckoning you forward. 

You took a nervous step toward the human male - definitely not a clone, you noted, but a GAR employee - but Boss approached with more confidence. “I need to outfit a new member of my squad.”

“Okay, that doesn’t help me much,” the clerk told him. “What is your designation? What is your squad’s designation? What is the new trooper’s designation?”

“RC-1138, Delta Squad, and she doesn’t have a designation.”

The clerk blinked at the resolution of Boss’s answers. “She? You have a non-clone addition to a commando squad?” 

“Yes, we do,” Fixer said, ushering you forward. “Approved by the Jedi Council. Generals Yoda, Windu, and Unduli in particular.”

The clerk still looked a little stunned, even when he was looking directly at you, so you helpfully supplied your name. He shook his head in resignation. “You’re going to have to wait while I get this cleared.”

“Fine,” Boss agreed, stopping you when you started toward one of the benches in the empty waiting area. 

“You’ll probably be more comfortable over there,” the clerk said. 

“We’ll just wait here,” Fixer countered, leaning slightly against the counter and watching the clerk steadily. 

There was no way to know for certain how quickly the clerk would have moved without being stared at by two no-nonsense commandos and one mildly confused Force-sensitive woman, but he was able to contact someone in moments. After a short conversation with a superior who sounded decidedly grumpy to be asked for clearance, the clerk motioned you over to a door set into the wall that divided the waiting area from the rest of the armory. 

When it opened, Boss led the way in and Fixer followed you. The clerk gave all three of you a skeptical look. “The droids will help you from here. I assume you know where everything is?”

“Yes,” Boss said shortly. 

“Thank you!” you chirped, unable to fight the urge to be polite. 

Boss glanced back at you with a slight lift of his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything as he led the way toward a specific part of the room.

“Don’t thank him,” Fixer told you. He didn’t lower his voice in the slightest and you cringed at the idea of the clerk overhearing him, but the man had gone back to his desk and was now scrolling through a datapad. “He did nothing but slow us down.”

“He let us in the door,” you argued. 

“Slowly,” Fixer snorted. “I could have sliced in faster than it took him to open it.”

"When you two are finished," Boss started, his even tone holding an edge of impatience, "I'd like to get this done."

With that said, he turned and tapped a droid that began to power up. 

You had gotten more familiar with the variety of droids that helped everyday life run more smoothly in the Republic, but you certainly didn't know all of them. You leaned closer to Fixer. "What kind of droid is it?" 

"An RMR, second generation," he told you. "They're pretty rare. The GAR is the only legal user in the galaxy."

As soon as the droid was fully upright, Boss shoved his arm in front of its sensors. "I need armor for my new squad member." 

The droid scanned Boss's arm with a flickering reddish light, then trained its sensors on his face. "The records indicate that the new attachment to Delta Squad, led by RC-1138, is a human female. The approval was issued by the Jedi Council. Do you need armor for a Jedi?" 

"Yes," Boss decided. As the RMR droid whirred toward one of the shelves, he gave a wordless shrug over one shoulder, offering that by way of an explanation to you and Fixer. 

The droid came back, holding a small stack of plates in its metallic arms. Boss accepted them with noticeable disgust. "What is this?" 

"Armor for a Jedi," RMR explained. "Most Jedi choose to wear small amounts of armor to facilitate easier movement around the battlefield. The blaster-resistant undertunics are provided by the Jedi Temple, but I could check to see what we have in stock…" 

“Absolutely not,” Boss refused. The droid, having already started to move away, turned just in time to catch the plates it had just handed Boss. The sergeant was shaking his head with thinly veiled irritation. “No Jedi of ours is going to walk around unarmored. I want a full set for her, tailored to her specs.”

You tried to keep a straight face, but you were unreasonably warmed by the casual sense of belonging that Boss had offered. You weren’t even a Jedi, really, but Delta Squad had offered you a place in the galaxy where you could fit in. And you would apparently fit in there for a long time, if Boss had anything to say about it.

“Sergeant, a full set of armor is heavy,” RMR objected. “Wearing it may decrease her ability to maneuver around a battlefield. That is the reasoning behind most Jedi wearing sparser armor-”

“And that’s their choice,” Boss agreed. “But I won’t have someone on my squad who would be taken out by ricochet blaster fire. Let us worry about her maneuverability.”

RMR droids clearly had not been designed to sigh, but if it had the ability, you would bet that RMR would have done so. Instead, it settled for a heavy silence before replacing the plates Boss had handed back. 

“Boss,” you started quietly, trying to disguise the emotion in your voice. You didn’t know exactly how you were going to thank him for looking out for you, but you needed to tell him. Especially in the wake of Scorch and Sev’s subtle step back after your earlier meal. “I-”

“No complaints,” he told you harshly. The surprise of it kept you from protesting aloud, but he seemed to take your silence for offense, because he gave a small sigh. You watched his shoulders move with it before he angled his head to see you in his peripheral vision. “I know it seems like too much, but-”

“Thank you,” you interrupted. 

You could only see Boss’s face in profile, but you watched the eyebrow you could see shoot upward in surprise. Before he could answer, the RMR droid returned. This time, it was carrying a much larger stack of plastoid plates. 

The feeling you got at the sight was a surprise to you. Those were yours - or, they would be once they had been sized properly. It would be your way to start repaying the debt you owed these men. Delta Squad had saved your life, and this pile of plastoid would protect that life while you worked to help them. 

RMR was apparently not happy with any of you, and it dumped the armor into Boss’s arms. Boss caught most of it, but Fixer had to snag a few pieces out of the air. Then RMR handed you a piece of slinky black material. 

“What is this?” you asked, holding it up and puzzling at the shapeless fall of fabric.

There was a beat of uncomfortable silence, broken only by a mutter from Fixer. “Body glove.”

Ah. 

The next hour was among the most embarrassing of your life. Republic technology was at least good enough to keep the fabric from becoming sheer as it stretched over certain places, but there were no secrets in the body glove. Every bump and curve and swell of your figure was blatantly visible.

It was bad enough when you confronted yourself in the long, narrow mirror in the changing room, but Boss and Fixer clearly noticed the places where the fabric strained to contain you. It became a game of ignorance, everyone aware of it, but no one saying anything. 

Fortunately, the nature of your task meant that you slowly got more covered up as time passed. Pieces of plastoid armor locked into place, each one held firm against you by a system of electromagnets. You had wondered how the armor worked, and you were thrilled to find that the electromagnetism was activated when the plates touched different sections of a flexible wiring worked into your body glove.

You had to swap several pieces of armor, working closely with RMR as you sized up and down to collect a full set that fit your body. By the time you finished, you were sweating. (You had to wipe it away with your palm, since the back of your hand was protected by a gauntlet.)

“Doing okay?” Fixer asked, approaching with the helmet you had been eying almost as long as you had been trying on armor. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a sheepish look. “This really is heavy. More than I expected.”

Boss nodded. “We’ll do most of your training in it to build your strength. The relief mission we’re about to go on won’t require speed, but wearing it will keep you safe while you get used to it.”

“I can’t say I’m looking forward to it, but I think it’s a good idea.”

As soon as you had agreed, Fixer handed you the helmet. “Last piece.”

You raised the helmet and slid it over your head. The seal at the bottom of the helmet pulled at your scalp, then at the sensitive skin of your face as it lowered further and further before it settled into place. When the helmet seal met the neck of your body glove, the helmet’s HUD flickered to life. 

Your breath caught at the way information was augmenting everything you could see. You had assumed that the helmet would limit your sight and hearing, but that wasn’t the case at all. In fact, the only sense that suffered was smell. 

The viewport allowed you to see everything around you while the HUD gave you information about everything outside your field of vision, synced to where your eyes traveled. The speakers of the helmet were incredible as well, bringing sounds inside while also allowing your sound of surprise to travel outward.

Fixer grinned and Boss gave a soft chuckle - both of which were presented with perfect clarity by the helmet. 

“I remember that first time seeing the galaxy through a helmet,” Fixer said, sounding a little wistful. 

“We’ll probably turn down some of the HUD features until you get used to it,” Boss offered. “And then you can sort through it all and choose what you want to keep.”

“Can I keep all of it?” you asked. “It’s incredible!”

“You won’t want to see everything,” Fixer warned you. “Especially not when you’re in combat. You’ll want the necessities - nothing more, nothing less.”

“If all members of your squad are fully armored, I must request that you leave the armory,” RMR informed you all, appearing once more. You weren’t surprised, though. The HUD had warned you of an incoming droid even with RMR approaching from behind you. 

“We’ll be on our way in a minute, droid,” Boss told it. He turned to Fixer. “Go check our ship for tomorrow. Make sure everything is loaded and that systems are set for a smooth mission. You know what to look for.”

Fixer nodded and - with a final glance at you - left the armory. Boss held a hand out in your direction. You glanced at it, then at him, but he couldn’t see your confused frown under the cover of protective plastoid.

After a moment, he said, “Give me your helmet. I’ll hold it while you change back into your clothes.”

Ah. At least you hadn’t done anything mortifying, like taking his hand. Even so, your face was hot as you removed the helmet and handed it to him. Your retreat to the changing area may have been a little faster than it would have been otherwise, but that could be for any number of reasons. 

When you reappeared, Boss gave you a medium-sized pack. “To carry the armor.”

You nodded and knelt to pack the plates of armor. By far the bulkiest piece was the chestplate, but it wasn’t impossible to carry. The body glove folded down smaller than you could believe, especially now that you knew there was an electromagnetic system hidden in the fabric’s weave.

You stood and slung the pack over your shoulders. It took a moment to adjust your balance, but the weight didn’t seem quite so bad with it supported by your shoulder. Boss handed you the helmet once more. “I’ve already signed everything out, so we’re good to go. Just remember that everything is owned by the GAR. They don’t care if you customize it, but not in any way that purposely damages it.” 

“Got it,” you said with a nod. “Anything else I should know?”

“No, but there’s something I should,” Boss countered. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked in surprise, walking behind him as you left the armory. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing is wrong.”

Boss sighed through his nose, a sound filled with more disappointment than irritation. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want a real answer. What is it?” 

You took a moment to think it over, but Boss apparently thought you didn’t intend to say anything at all. With a grave look, he said, “I’ll make it an order if I have to.”

With that mild threat hanging over you, telling the truth seemed to be your best option. You told him what had happened at Kiaba’s, and the way Scorch and Sev had reacted to you afterward.

“It makes sense and I understand where they’re coming from,” you hastened to add. “I’m just worried they’re never going to trust me. But I know none of us knew everything before we agreed to have me work for you and I’m not going to be offended if you feel the same way. It’s hard to-”

“I don’t.”

The simple denial made you abruptly cut off your tirade. Despite the trickle of relief running through you, the only question you had was: “Why?”

Boss shrugged. “The Force isn’t much different from getting an order. You feel like you should follow it, but nothing can completely take over your free will. Not unless you’re a complete di’kut.”

“How do you know?” you asked. It seemed stupid to question things when they seemed to be going your way, but you couldn’t help it.

“Someone had us made,” Boss pointed out. “If the Force could make people follow something without question, they wouldn’t need a clone army, they would need a rogue Jedi. Besides, Dooku would do that to make an army for the Seppies. Instead, they’re spending fortunes on their clankers.”

For the life of you, you couldn’t think of an answer to that. When you kept walking beside him in open-mouthed silence, Boss caught your look and shrugged again. “It’s a working theory, but I thought it over before I ever agreed to have you join us.”

“You’re smarter than I could ever dream of being,” you told him, hearing the awe in your own voice. 

“Nah, I’m just used to thinking around what the jetii do,” he countered. “Don’t worry about Sev and Scorch. They’ll get over it soon enough. Right now, you need to focus on the mission. We meet in the hangar bay at oh-five-hundred hours. Get some sleep before then.”

---

Author's Note - Uh, oh. A little awkwardness with Scorch and Sev! I'm STILL working my way through the Republic Commando book series, and I feel like troopers (especially Delta) would have trouble with the idea of their scraps of free will being taken away by someone, even if they like and trust that person.

This chapter was supposed to be posted a week ago, but Thanksgiving was crazy and internet access was sparse. Sorry for the delay and thank you for your patience. Thank you for reading!

[thelazybard]

I'm not sure if you know anything about Delta Squad. But perhaps can I request Bad Batch x Fem Padawan reader who was first adopted by Delta Squad and when order 66 happened she was recused by Bad Batch, after attempting to use the force to stop them from harming her.

DELTA SQUAD MENTION RAAAAH!!

What a great first request!

This is gonna be a long one so buckle in

F!Reader x Bad Batch: Being saved from Order 66

warnings: Order 66, slight canon divergence, character death, Crosshair never follows Order 66, betrayal, angst, hurt/comfort, use of force speed because why did we never see that after Episode One, light fluff

This can't be happening.

What was even happening?

One second you and Delta Squad are on Kaller celebrating the death of General Grievous and the seeming end of the Clone War. The next, you're running as fast as you can, as far as you can, away from your squad; your family, who are now doing everything they can to find and destroy you.

You were Master Shaak Ti's padawan, and once helped her oversee the prowess of the clone army. But soon the war effort called you off-world to lead a special force of clone commandos. Master Shaak saw this as a way to know for certain if you were ready to be Knighted, since you were an adult now.

Boss, Scorch, Sev, and Fixer were apart of Delta Squad, and looked to you for guidance as their Commander. It was unnerving at first, being away from your master's calming presence and not being able to seek her guidance at a moment's notice.

But, you eventually proved your worth as a commander, and soon a knight. At least you would have if there was an Order to return to after this last mission.

You will never forget, Sev was the first to draw his rifle on you. At first you thought it was some distasteful joke. You weren't a stranger to your squad's pranks.

But when you sensed his index finger curl, and heard the faintest tick of his trigger being drawn back, you couldn't help the reflex of igniting your saber and swinging the blaster bolt back into your opponent's shoulder.

Sev had cried out, and even to this day his cry echos through your mind in the late of night.

Then the others drew your weapons and that's when you ran. You refused to fight them. Not because you couldn't, but because you wouldn't. They were your friends, your brothers. You lead them through their first campaign on Geonosis, laughed with them, cried with them. Celebrated victories and healed their wounds.

Clone Force 99 found you cornered between Delta Squad and the icy canyon below the ridge you stood on.

"Just stay back! Please!" You pleaded, lightsaber drawn and eyes glossed over with tears. You weren't in fear for yourself, but instead afraid of what you'd have to do to ensure your survival.

They weren't speaking to you. Why weren't they speaking to you?

"We've got her now, boys. Open fire on the target." Boss said to his brothers.

It was with those words that it was finally able to register in your head.

Something definitely happened, that was for certain. They were given orders from someone that superseded you. If that was the case, nothing you could say or do would stop them from completing their mission. You damned their unwavering loyalty before you sprung into action.

You'd always held back when sparring with your brothers. You were quicker, stronger, and could see their moves before they made them. You never let them win, only kept up with them until they grew tired, which granted took a while. But now it was life or death, you understood that now as you sliced their rifles in half, blocked their punches and parried their melee attacks before even they knew what they were moving to do.

The Batch watched the scene unfold from the treeline, still unsure of whose side they should be taking. Echo advocated stepping in right away on your behalf, but the jury was still out with the rest. Besides, it didn't look like you needed help.

Nothing like this has ever happened before. The Jedi were trustworthy, no? Especially the padawan of Shaak Ti.

They knew you in passing. You've interacted with the batch a few times, usually just accompanying Shaak Ti during their assessments. The Batch teased each other for their crush on you, and had taken every chance they could to pass you in the sterile hallways on Kamino. Now, that beautiful, calming padawan was fighting for her life.

In this moment you were other-worldly. It was nearly impossible for the batch to keep track of your form weaving through the four supersoldiers, blocking their attacks as you still clung to hope they'd come to their senses.

"She's not just killing them." Crosshair said.

"She doesn't want to." Echo replied.

Hunter had heard through the grapevine of padawan Ahsoka's alleged treason, that was later learned to be false. Could it be the same, here?

When Hunter finally finished mulling it over and called for CF-99 to aid you, they dove through the shrubs to stun your opponents while their attention was still fixated on you.

You watched in shock as Delta Squad's bodies crumbled to the ground around you, not realizing what happened until you saw the clones at the treeline.

"Commander," Hunter greeted you, worry wrinkling his brow.

"Sergeant. They tried to kill me! What is happening?" You asked.

"That's what we're trying to find out. But it isn't safe for you here."

"It doesn't appear it is safe for her anywhere," Tech interjected, eyes fixated on his datapad. "It says here the Jedi Order had commit treason against the Republic, and we are to eliminate all targets under Order 66."

"Treason? The entire Jedi Order? What could be the... Fives!" You breathed, your fingers draping over your mouth.

"Fives what?" Echo asked.

"He tried to warn me about a plot against the Jedi. I wanted to believe him, but before he could prove it he was–" You sighed and shook your head, sheathing your saber so you could dig the heels of your palms into your temples as the world you once knew was flipped upside down.

"We have to get you out of here. If the other clones planetside know you're here they'll try to..." Hunter said.

"I understand. It seems I will have to–" You nearly doubled over as an unfamiliar senstation dug through you like a vibroblade.

The tether between you and Shaak Ti was severed. She was killed.

You regained your footing with the help of Wrecker who steadied you.

"Master Ti. They- they killed her."

Hunter sensed regs closing in on your location. "Come on. We have to go, now!" He barked.

Running alongside the batch, tears streamed across your cheeks as you grappled with the fact that Master Ti, the woman who raised you, taught you, protected you, was cut down and you weren't there to stop it. Or at least die with her.

You boarded the Maurader and Echo helped you into a seat as you were overcome with emotions. Emotions you were taught to supress spilled out of you with the wound Shaak Ti's death left. Your shoulders quivered as you sobbed softly to yourself.

You were sad, angry, and scared.

"Take me to the nearest planet that doesn't have a Republic nor Separatist occupation," You finally said when the tears subsided. "I can't return to Kamino. I must hide until I figure out what is happening."

Tech nodded before keying in coordinates and making the jump to hyperspace. It would be a few days before you arrived, so it was time to get comfortable with your company.

Hunter:

The Clone Sergeant didn't know what to say to you for the first few hours.

Partly because he'd never conversed with you one-on-one and was nervous to talk to the pretty Jedi that was the object of his affections for the past few years.

Your entire squad just betrayed you. He couldn't imagine how that must feel. He didn't want to.

At first, every time he looked at you he was reminded of his greatest fear, and couldn't face it.

Eventually he decided he had to say something, gazing at your form curled up in a seat, seeming far away.

It wasn't until Crosshair literally shoved him in your direction did he finally approach you.

"Uhh, Commander... I... can't imagine what you're going through right now. If you need anything, let me know, yeah?" He asked.

"Thank you," You replied, voice small and strained now as you try to grapple your emotions.

"And, for what it's worth... You fought well. I think Delta Squad is lucky to have such a commander. I'm sorry they betrayed you. You won't get that from us."

You smiled at him and his heart stopped.

He wasn't sure of where you'd end up after they took you somewhere safe, but he was determined to cross paths with you again.

Echo:

Echo has the most experience out of the batch when it comes to working with Jedi. He understood their overall nature; Kind, calm, wise.

You were no different. It's why he was picking his brain for any reason clones would be ordered to murder you.

Echo knew you before his accident. It was your faith in him and the rest of Domino Squad that drove him to work together with his team. He'd been smitten with you ever since.

"Are you alright?" He asked, coming to sit across from you.

You looked up at him, and his chest tightened as the two of you made real, undivided eye contact with each other for the first time in years. Your eyes were wiser now, even while saddened.

"I'm... shaken. And trying to cope with the fact that I will have to leave everything I've known if it means I'll survive."

"You've still got us," Echo offered. "We don't really know what's going on either, but you can trust us. You can trust me."

"Thank you, Echo."

"Anytime. I... appreciate, all you've done for me and my brothers in the past. It's the least I can do for you now."

You reached over to touch his hand that rested in his lap, and he only froze a little. The look you then gave him when your eyes met again was a look he'd never soon forget.

Wrecker:

After a day of being on the Maurader with you, Wrecker knew he wanted to cheer you up. But he wasn't sure how.

He started with offering you his favorite flavor of ration bar, which you politely declined. Not much of an appetite.

Nodding, he left and returned with Lula, making her dance around you as he hummed a tune, and eventually bonked you on the head with the plushie to provoke a laugh.

His brothers told him to leave you alone but you assured them it was fine.

You liked Wrecker. He was silly and said what was on his mind.

His humorous way of cheering you up seemed to be working.

He crouched down to your level, looking up at you to meet your eyes and smiled. "C'mon Commander, let's hear that pretty laugh." He said.

He thinks it's pretty?

You thought back to your handful of interactions, and found you had chuckled a few times here and there.

This encouraged a soft giggle out of you.

"Thank you, Wrecker. I really needed that."

"Anytime, Commander."

Tech:

Tech has never seen anyone cry before. Not really, anyways.

He's seen people cry in the holofilms, and knew it was something you did when you were sad.

But Clones were in many ways emotionally stunted, even moreso Tech.

So watching you cry, well... it stirred something in his chest he'd never quite felt before.

He knew you were sad, that much was clear.

But how do you comfort someone who's crying!

"Don't fret. Your tears are simply a pathological response made to relieve some of the traumatic stress you may be feeling." Tech explained sagely as he sat beside you.

"That's... good to know, Tech. Thank you."

He then passed you a ration bar. "Here you must eat. You will need your Jedi strength."

His unconventional way of displaying his affection was oddly charming. Doting on you like a mother hen while also explaining the science behind your emotions in painful detail to alleviate your worry.

Crosshair:

You'd always seen through Crosshair's stoic, brooding demeanor.

You knew there was a storm of thoughts and feelings swirling around that noodle of his.

There was so much he was thinking at any point in time, so much he could say.

And he knew you knew. Everytime you two locked eyes, he felt you looking right through him into something more than what met the eye.

It was unnerving. He didn't like being seen in that way. Mostly because he didn't know what it'd entail.

Your eyes were duller now after what transpired, like you yourself had built up your walls into your own psyche.

It was like a thorn in his heart, not being able to see you like he did. So that's what it felt like.

He wanted to be let in.

"Need an ear?" He offered when it was just you two aboard the ship.

He didn't mean to startle you right as you exited the refresher after your sonic shower, but it was on his mind since he saw you disappear to freshen up.

"What?" You said, eyes alert suddenly.

"If you need to talk, I'll listen." He reiterated more clearly this time.

You looked down, shoulders shrugging weakly. "I'm not even sure what I want to say that would help."

He nodded his head in the direction of the cockpit and you followed him to sit in the pilot chairs.

"Maybe it won't fix anything, but it will at least be off your chest."

You exhaled through your mouth, then nodded.

"I just can't believe... I was close to them. They were my brothers. I thought that no matter what, they wouldn't..." You began.

Cross listened intently to your grievances, nodding to let you know he was listening, humming occasionally. Finding out more about your personality in the process.

Finally, when you couldn't find anything else to add, you wiped your tears and sat back, sighing deeply.

He was right, it at least helped with the cinderblock weight on your chest grief gave you.

"Thank you, Crosshair." You said.

He looked into your orbs, then to the swirl of blue and white that was hyperspace. "Get some rest. You can have my bunk, I changed the linens this morning." He said.

Sorry if this took too long, I just really liked this idea and the words came spilling out.

[demxters]

—LOVING YOU IS TREACHEROUS

frat!jake seresin x f!reader

dagger squad college!au

summary: jake realizes there's more to his feelings for you than just pure attraction or the moment jake realizes he's falling in love

wc: 1.7k

warning(s): 18+, fem!reader, no y/n (reader goes by nickname ace), a little angst, swearing, bad parental relationships, mentions of vomiting, and drinking

part of the loving you universe || find it on ao3 here

FEEDBACK, COMMENTS, AND REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED!

Things are different now. You are different now. Not in a bad way, you suppose. Just different. You’re more social, more outgoing, you feel more at peace with yourself. To think that it’s all because of a group project. 

Never would you have thought that a randomized group project would lead you to your newfound friends. Never would you have thought they would be Frat boys. Bradley Bradshaw and Jake Seresin somehow wormed their way into your little friend group, bringing Javy Machado and Reuben Fitch with them. Suddenly, your little group of five became nine. You used to think you’d hate it, but now you wouldn’t have things any other way. 

Even Jake Seresin, who you found absolutely infuriating, added something to the dynamic of the group. Despite your clear distaste for him, it just wouldn’t be the same without him. 

You couldn’t explain it, but you felt complete. Had you told yourself five months ago that you’d become friends with Delta Chi’s most notorious you would have laughed in your own face. Never, in a million years, did you think that would ever happen. Yet here you were, spending your Saturday night in your apartment playing board games and drinking (they were drinking, you were supervising) with your expanded group.

“I call bullshit! That’s a hit!” Javy drunkenly slurs at Bob who holds his hands up with clear offense. 

Bob pushes his glasses up the slope of his nose. His flushed skin and pink tipped ears are a tell tale sign that he is intoxicated. “Is not!” 

Javy shakes his head vigorously. “Is to! Let me see that,” he clumsily reaches over towards Bob’s Battleship board. Javy’s lack of coordination sends the board flying, along with the rain of tiny red and white playing pieces that scatter across the living room. 

The room erupts in a chorus of shouts and groans upon the inevitable clean up of the game and you sigh from your place on the couch. “I think that’s enough of that for tonight.” You wipe your palms on the fabric of your pants before bringing yourself to a stand.

Carefully maneuvering around your friends who are now scattered all across the room picking up little red and white bullets, you gather the last of stray cups of alcohol that was left on the coffee table. 

“Hey!” Bradley catches sight of you whisking away their stash for the night. 

“Nope, no more drinks for tonight.” Bradley opens his mouth in protest as you continue, “Unless you want to spend the rest of the night cleaning the apartment of the mess you guys made.” 

The pointed look you give him makes his mouth snap shut and he sends you a mock salute before clumsily going back to picking up stray playing pieces. 

“Thank you,” you chide, sauntering over to the kitchen. You laugh at the sound of your friends’ overlapping chatter and Natasha’s mothering as she commands the boys to quit stalling and clean. 

There was no denying that your apartment was loud. Louder than it should be for ten o’clock at night. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care about quieting your friends down. You’ve spent so long living in silence that you embrace the sounds of joy and laughter that surround you. 

Silence isn’t unfamiliar to you. You grew up as an only child in a big house with emotionally absent parents. Silence was the only thing you ever knew. Then it wasn’t. 

You found a new home, a new family. One you wouldn’t give up for anything. 

You were too deep in your own musings to notice the faint footsteps creeping up behind you. 

“You missed a few,” a deep voice from behind you makes your heart jump. 

You almost drop the cups in your hand as you spin on your heel to see Jake Seresin standing in front of you with a few more glasses in hand. 

Your shoulders drop from your ears once you get a hold of your surroundings. “Geez, Seresin! You almost scared me half to death.” 

He winces at your wide eyes, biting his bottom lip to stifle the smile that threatens to cross his face. “Sorry,” he shrugs, stepping in front of you to place the cups on the counter behind you. 

You’re unsure whether or not he decided to step into your space intentionally. Either way, he was close enough for your chests to touch. The thought set your cheeks on fire, causing you to shove his arm away with a scoff. “Ever heard of personal space, Hangman?” 

Rather than the witty retort you were expecting out of him, Jake mumbles a soft apology before stepping back to keep an arm's length between you two. 

The silence that follows is unsettling. You realize that you have never been alone with Jake for longer than a few minutes at a time. When you were working on the group project together, Bradley was always around. The one time you tried to help him study for his American History final, you fell asleep halfway into your study session, cutting it short. For some reason you didn’t know how to act around him in any way other than hostile. 

You were glad he fought you back with just as much fire. It kept the strange feelings in your stomach at bay. 

The way he was looking at you now, however, this was different from the Jake you were so used to seeing. There was no puff to his chest or arrogance in his gaze. Only softness and dare you say, ease in his posture. 

“They’re showing the Twilight movies at the theaters this weekend if you were interested in going,” Jake breaks the silence. 

It takes you a moment to comprehend what he’s saying or to even realize that he’s talking to you. You thought Natasha must have stumbled her way into the kitchen but you glanced around to see no one but you two still there. You could no longer hear the noise being made by your friends in the living room. It was like all your senses had suddenly attuned to the man in front of you. The only thing you were aware of was him. You stutter embarrassingly over your words as you respond. “Oh, you mean wi–with you?” 

Jake’s eyes grow wide before he shakes his head. “No, well, yeah if you want to. I wasn’t trying to imply that you should go with me or anything. You could go with anyone you want. Doesn’t have to be me, I just thought that you’d like to know since you’re such a huge fan of the series.” 

Jake wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole right now. Smooth, Seresin, he scolds himself. Just when he thought he might have been reaching some middle ground with you, he had to go and make it weird by making you think he was asking you out. Not that he was opposed to the idea, rather that he wanted to ask you out the right way. Not while he was slightly tipsy in your kitchen. 

Your lips twitch unexpectedly, pulling upwards at the corners. There was something about seeing this side of Jake Seresin–the nervous, rambly side of him– that you found endearing. You preferred him more than the cocky, self centered frat boy he usually was. “How did you know I like the Twilight series?” 

He shrugs nonchalantly, a proud smile over taking his worried features. “You aren’t the only one who pays attention to things, Ace.” 

You put your hands up in surrender with light laughter, shaking your head softly. “Sorry, I’m just surprised that Jake Seresin pays attention to things other than sorority girls and himself.” 

“I pay attention to you,” the words just almost fall from his lips. Instead what comes out is, “And football. I pay attention to football too.” 

You snort, crossing your arms across your chest with a smirk. “Right, sorority girls, yourself, and the Dallas Cowboys.” 

“You got it, sweetheart,” he winks. 

The corner of his mouth lifts slightly when he winks and you find it absolutely amusing. A small fit of giggles erupt from you causing him to tilt his head with confusion. 

“What’s so funny, Ace?” he questions with his hands on his hips. 

His own lips quirk up as he tries not to laugh, finding your own incredibly contagious. That and he couldn’t help but think of just how much he loved seeing you this way. So open and carefree. 

Love. That isn’t the first time the word has popped into Jake’s head when he thought of you. It was, however, the first time he truly welcomed the thought. 

It wasn’t like in the movies, where the main character has this big revelation that they're in love. Rather, it slowly crept up on him. Always being in the back of his mind, but never clear enough for him to make out what it was exactly he was feeling. 

But things have changed lately, he has changed. You made him want to be better. 

You two weren’t close, far from it actually. But he wants to get close to you. He wants to be someone worth your time. He wants to be able to have more moments like this  with you. 

He was willing to prove that he was no longer the immature playboy you think he is. 

The question is on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he should just take this as an opportunity to ask you out. He opens his mouth, ready to take the leap when—

“Bradley!” Natasha shouts from the living room. “Ace, can you grab the Clorox? Bradley just threw up on the floor!” 

Mickey moans, “I think I might be next!”

You curse under your breath sending Jake a look he reciprocated with a tired sigh. 

“Well, looks like we’re on babysitting duty,” you weakly smile. 

He nods halfheartedly, watching you grab the wipes before hurrying out to the living room. His chest physically hurt as he watched you walk away. He was so close. However, he knew his feelings would have to wait. 

The old Jake didn’t do commitment or girlfriends. The old Jake didn’t fall in love. 

The new Jake was falling hard, and he was falling fast. He had a feeling things were only going to get more complicated from here. He doesn’t mind it, though. In fact, he kind of likes it. 

a/n: i genuinely feel like not many people read my work on here anymore but i've missed these two so much i had to post. as usual, if you made it this far, my inbox is always open and thank you for reading! :D

tgm taglist: @joaquinwhorres @harrycherrylove @smoothdogsgirl @t-nd-rfoot @dempy @ollyoxenfrees @averyhotchner @2guysonascooter @loveforaugust @blue-aconite @fandom-life-12 @stiles-banshees @iamdannyday @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @breezemood @eli2447 @angelbabyange @finelytaylored @pono-pura-vida @hecate-steps-on-me @blueoorchid @aviatorobsessed @blackwidownat2814 @hallecarey1 @averagereader35 @laneylovesglen @atarmychick007 @kajjaka @urfavelocagirl @clancycumber230 @memeorydotcom @kmc1989 @percysaidnever @thestarspangledcaptain @wkndwlff @shanimallina87 @dracosluvbot

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Turn It Up When You're Gone (1/2)

Starting my fic migration off with a bang! This is by far my most popular work on AO3, because people be horny. Delta Squad/Republic Commando girlies, come get y'all juice!

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Sev x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.9k

Summary: You are a GAR analyst, and your job is to process clone trooper helmet feeds. Being surrounded by incredibly handsome, competent troopers makes it hard to keep a professional distance, but you've managed. Until now.

Warnings: SMUT; voice kink, praise kink, body worship

Next chapter | Masterlist

You love your job. As a GAR tactical analyst assigned to the Venator-class Star Destroyer Guarlara, you spend your days immersed in clone trooper helmet feeds. It might seem boring or tedious to some, but with your keen eye for detail and extensive knowledge of tactics, it is as close to a perfect occupation as you can imagine.

Besides, the clones are pretty entertaining. You always love the snippets of banter that pop up in their comm feeds, from gallows humor, to good-natured mockery, to genuine awe or delight at a new planet. Seeing the galaxy from the perspectives of these men, who have seen too little of beauty and too much of the chaos and horror of war in their short lives, gives you a new appreciation for its wonders.

At first, you try to maintain some professional distance from the troopers, if only to preserve your sanity when so many of them are lost in each engagement, and you have the responsibility of watching as their helmet feeds fade to black. But it isn’t easy. The battlefield camaraderie you witness in their feeds continues onboard the Guarlara, and you can’t help being pulled into it. You make friends with a few clones, and every time they go on a mission, you hold your breath until they come back safely.

It doesn’t help your resolve to keep them at arm’s length that you are surrounded by incredibly handsome, competent soldiers in peak physical condition. Several of your fellow nat-born analysts have already had flings with clones, and by all accounts, the experience is worth the risk of official reprimands or even demotions. You haven’t done it yourself—yet—but you’ve been tempted.

And the temptation just got one thousand times stronger.

A new clone commando unit has been temporarily assigned to the Guarlara: Delta squad. Regular clone banter is entertaining, but the Deltas are on a whole different level. Boss is all business, and Fixer is quiet and by-the-book, but Scorch and Sev are hilarious. You often have to bite your lip to keep from bursting into unprofessional laughter at their antics, even as you are blown away by their tactical prowess.

You find yourself saving the Delta feeds for the end of your work cycle, just so you can finish your day on a high note. Sometimes, you wish you could get your hands on some Mantell Mix while you’re watching the feeds. They’re better than any holoflick you’ve ever seen. If only they could be released to the public; they would make a blockbuster action comedy.

But there’s another reason you are quickly becoming obsessed with the Delta feeds.

The first time you hear Sev’s voice, you gasp, and prickles run down your neck. He sounds different from the other clones: deep, gravelly, menacing. Incredibly sexy. You often find yourself replaying snippets of his comm feed, just so you can hear him speak. Whether he is making a dark joke, tallying his kills, or snarling at an enemy, his voice never fails to make you breathe a little faster.

You have never met the squad, never seen their faces, though you’ve seen them in their distinctive armor around the ship. The commandos mostly keep to themselves. You aren’t even sure which armor belongs to which commando, though you would bet every credit of your cycle’s pay that Sev is the one with the helmet painted to look like a bloody handprint. 

You know that the commandos were the same height as all the rest of the clones, but somehow, they seem larger. More solid. Far more intimidating. Maybe it is the armor, but you doubt it. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about what Sev looks like under all that bulky commando armor. Lying in your bunk during your sleep cycle, you picture him. Copper skin, curly black hair, eyes the color of amber. Hard, sculpted muscles. Broad shoulders, narrow hips that flex against yours, driving his thick cock deep inside you until you whimper his name. And of course, you imagine his voice: deep and dark, murmuring the filthiest words in your ear as he pounds into you with that incredible clone commando stamina.

When you meet up with your fellow analysts for lunch in the mess hall, you confess that a clone has finally caught your eye—or more correctly, your ear.

“He has the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard,” you say, keeping your volume low so as not to attract attention from the troopers eating at nearby tables or milling around in small groups.

“They all do,” laughs Drinna. “They’re clones!”

“This one is different,” you insist. “It’s so deep and growly. He sounds so… dangerous.”

Jeelee shivers next to you, and you don’t blame him. None of your friends can deny that the rush of adrenaline is at least a small part of their attraction to the clone troopers. There’s just something about a soldier who has been trained from birth to be a killing machine that activates your fight, flight, or fuck response.

“Stars, I never thought I’d get turned on listening to someone yelling, ‘Trando scum,’” you say with an uncertain laugh. “If it weren’t a massive security breach, I’d try to smuggle some of his feeds into my bunk for a little private viewing session.”

Drinna snorts with laughter, and the group hurries to finish the meal before you all have to get back to your stations to close out your work cycle.

---

Sev can’t believe his ears. He’s sitting in the mess staring at the empty table where you and your friends were just sitting. He’s off duty and wearing only his black body glove, which is why you don’t notice him sitting alone when your group takes the table next to his. But he notices you. How could he not? He’d spotted you the very first day he and the Deltas came aboard. 

He isn’t completely sheltered. He’s met nat-born GAR personnel before, including a few female officers. And he has made the rounds at 79’s during Delta squad’s all-too-rare shore leaves. But something about you grabs his attention. He first notices your laugh. You laugh a lot, and you do it with your whole body. Your eyes light up, your mouth opens in a delighted smile, your head tilts back, your shoulders shake, your tits bounce. One time, he saw you laugh so hard you had to lean against a wall for support when your knees gave out. It makes him want to be the one who makes you laugh.

His keen sniper’s eyes have also spotted you stealing glances at him and the rest of his squad when you pass in the hallways of the Venator. He’s seen you chatting amiably with other clones, and he wonders why you never try to talk to the Deltas. Maybe she’s intimidated, he thinks. He doesn’t blame you.

When he overhears you talking to your friends, he doesn’t think much about it. He just enjoys getting a little glimpse into your life. And then he hears it: “... turned on listening to someone yelling, ‘Trando scum.’ If it weren’t a massive security breach, I’d try to smuggle some of his feeds into my bunk for a little private viewing session.”

Sev nearly chokes on his nutrient paste, and for once, it’s not because of the flavor.

It’s me, he realizes. She’s talking about me.

All this time he’s been watching you, and now he knows you’ve been thinking about him. Getting off to his voice. Imagining him during your “private viewing sessions.” The thought of it has him semi-erect in the middle of the mess hall, with no armor to disguise his state. He spends a long time eating his nutrient paste.

---

The next time the Delta feeds update, you notice that Sev’s is a little longer than the other three. As usual, you save his feed for the last of your day. You take a quick look around to make sure nobody is watching, which is ridiculous, because this is literally your job. But you can’t help feeling a wicked little thrill as you queue up his feed, as though you are about to do something forbidden. You settle the headphones over your head and turn up the volume as you press play.

The holofeed isn’t what you expect. Instead of a battlefield or the inside of a gunship, you see a barracks filled with empty bunks. It looks spare and sterile. The bunks don’t even have pillows; just thin blankets and rough sheets. Your own quarters are austere, but at least you have the luxury of a door and a small refresher. You’ve never seen the inside of the clone barracks before, and you feel as though you are intruding on something private. You reach to scrub forward through the feed, but you halt when Sev’s voice crackles in your headphones.

“I heard a sexy little analyst say she likes my voice,” he says. “I have a present for her ‘private viewing sessions.’ If she comms me the code to her quarters, I’ll know she wants it.”

Oh, stars. He heard. He knows. And he knows who you are. If ever there were a time for the Guarlara to have a small hull breach and launch you into space, now would be the ideal moment! Your heart beats so hard you are sure everyone around you can hear it. You steal a glance out of the corner of your eye, but none of your fellow analysts have noticed anything out of the ordinary. 

You send him a quick message. “RC-1207, this is the tactical analysis center. Your helmet feed flashed an error code during your most recent upload. The code is one-one-three-eight-four-echo-bravo. Please run a diagnostic and purge your helmet’s memory bank to prevent corrupted feeds.”

The reply comes almost instantly. “Copy that, tactical. Thanks for the code. That’ll help me track down what I’m looking for.”

You take a deep, shuddering breath, and turn your attention back to the feed. It cuts to the hallway of the Venator as Delta squad heads out for a mission, and the comm feed is just more of their usual banter, followed by their day’s activities in the battlefield.

You scrub back to the beginning of the feed and listen to it one more time before you trim the recording and upload it to the GAR server. You often have to cut out sections of feeds, so the missing section won’t raise any eyebrows, but Sev could get in huge trouble if anyone higher up the command chain saw the original recording.

With shaky hands, you tidy up your workstation as you do at the end of every work cycle. You straighten your uniform, joke with your friends, and head out of the analysis center. You meet up with a few clones in the corridor, and you make your way as a group to the mess hall, where you complain about the bland rations and make plans for your next shore leave. When you’re confident that you haven’t aroused suspicion, you stretch and tell your friends that you’re going to turn in early. 

You barely restrain yourself from running through the halls to your quarters. You key in your door code with fumbling hands, and once inside, you spot it immediately: a datachip lying innocently on your pillow. You plug it into your personal player. There’s no holo, but Sev’s voice rumbles through your headphones.

“Get comfortable, beautiful. I want this to be good for you.”

You gasp. You pause the recording and strip out of your uniform in record time, flinging it across your cramped quarters to lie rumpled on the floor. Crawling into bed, you slide naked under your blanket and pull the headphones back over your ears.

“That’s my good girl. Are you naked? Kriff, I hope so. You look hot as hell in your uniform. You must be the prettiest karking thing in the galaxy out of it. All that soft, smooth skin. I want you to feel yourself for me, little one. Run your fingers through your hair. Is it as soft as it looks? Does it smell as good as I imagine?”

Oh, sweet gods, he’s been imagining you, too. You wonder if he has been picturing you when he touched himself. Arousal licks up your spine, tinged with a tiny bit of disappointment that you hadn’t made a move sooner. You push the thought aside, determined to enjoy this moment.

“Now I want you to touch your skin. Slide your hands up and down your body, your arms, your thighs. Cup your tits. Give your nipples a little squeeze. Do you like that?”

You nod, biting your lip and breathing hard. You imagine Sev’s hands, rough and strong and big, and your hand drifts down your belly.

“Don’t touch your cunt, sweetheart. Not yet. I don’t want you to rush this.”

Force, it’s like he’s there with you, watching you, instead of away on some Maker-forsaken planet blasting droids. You obey his pre-recorded commands, wanting to get the full experience.

“Brush your fingers over your neck. Do it gently, like you can feel me whispering in your ear instead of a recording. Touch your mouth, baby. Gods, I wish it was me. Would you lick my fingers? I wonder what you taste like. I bet you taste amazing. Sweet, soft lips, wet little tongue. Fierfek, you make me so hard I could nut right fucking now. How kriffed up is it that I’m jealous of your hands?”

Your breath stutters as you hear another sound in the recording: the rhythmic slide of skin against skin. Oh stars, he is getting off on this, too. Or he already got off. Whatever. You roll your hips instinctively, looking for stimulation.

“Damn it, Sev, let me touch myself,” you whisper.

But you don’t. Not yet. You wait for his permission. Instead, you writhe in the bed, sliding your hands all over your body, pinning your hips to the mattress, touching yourself everywhere except the place you so desperately need.

“If I were with you, I’d take my time. Explore your whole body inch by inch. I would kiss you, and taste you, and suck on your tits until you beg for more. I’d bite your sexy ass and then kiss it better. I’d eat that pretty little pussy until you scream for me. Oh, fuck—” He panted for a moment. “Sorry, honey, I needed a minute to cool down or I was gonna blow early. I don’t want you to think I’m not up to the mission. Because right now, you are my mission. And you know that the mission always comes first.”

You can’t help it: you giggle. It’s endearingly cheesy, but you suspect it’s also true. Once Sev has you to himself—because you have no doubt that he will, and soon—he is going to give you the ride of your life.

“Have you been a good girl for me? Did you touch your pussy before I said you could?”

You shake your head. “Please, please, Sev, I need it.”

“I think you have been a good girl, and now you deserve your reward. I want you to touch your cunt, angel. Just brush your fingertips over it, nice and easy. Are you wet? Kark, I hope so, otherwise I’m doing this wrong. Slip your fingers inside, just a little. Get them nice and slick. Now I want you to play with your clit. Do what you like best, baby. Go hard, or go soft. Rub it in circles, or give it a little tap, or press on it nice and slow. I can’t wait to find out what makes you scream. Do you like it when I suck on your clit? Or maybe you like it a little rougher. Do you want me to slap you, pretty thing? Slap that beautiful little pussy and then lick it better? Or would you rather I go slow and gentle, just barely touching you, taking hours to build you up before I ruin you?”

You moan as you work yourself frantically. You are close, so close, and his voice is doing unholy things to you. You can hear him fucking his fist again, and it turns you on even more to know he is into this just as much as you are.

Sev’s breath grows ragged. “It’s gonna be so good when I fuck you. I know your cunt feels amazing. So tight and wet and warm—fuck—gonna be incredible. I can’t wait, I can’t kriffing wait—gods baby, gonna make me come—FUCK!”

He grunts, and it is loud. You can hear the wet spatter of his orgasm, and the sound of it pushes you over the edge. You feel the entire universe contract into your body, so tight, so hot, and then Fuck! The tension snaps, and you cry out as your body jerks and spasms. You gasp for air, twitching away from your own fingers as your hypersensitive body shudders. Your body is drained, your head is empty, every drop of energy in your being is utterly spent. Your eyes close, and you slip into oblivion.

---

Chapter 2

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul

This compilation of lines from the Republic Commando game will never not be funny to me: https://youtu.be/WHXy-_mztg0

[yaya4302]

Tee hee. Feedback is appreciated ✌🏼

Solace

Marcus Fenix x Fem!Reader

You're a scientist working on helping restart a Hammer of Dawn Missile. Delta Squad is escorting you safely, and your husband makes sure to tend to every need of yours.

"Marcus, I'm fine. It's just-"

"You say 'its just a scratch', I'll make you regret it." Your husband cut you off, anger rolling off his tongue and body in waves. The gash on your arm from a missed bullet had done some damage, your blood trailing down your arm in a steady flow.

While he was pissed beyond belief, his calloused and scarred hands held your arm with a rare gentleness.  You knew he wasnt angry at you, only at the fact that your skin was marred with what a wound and possible scar. It was a 180 of how he acted, spoke, even thought. Yet, the spontaneous softness only happened when it came to you.

"I was going to say it's not that deep." You say pouting at Marcus' gruffness, looking at the rest of the Delta squad settle in for the night. Baird was Sam's punching bag, Cole passing out MRE's and telling stories of his thrashball days, and Dom making sure your equipment was taken care of.

"It's basically the same thing." He retorted, wrapping your arm snuggly with the bandage, his low voice murmuring if it was too tight. You shook your head, letting yourself observe the man you proudly call your husband.

Sensing your eyes, he looked up to meet yours. The dirt and grime on his face was nothing new; in fact, it made him ruggedly attractive. Even him using whatever weapon he could grab and used so efficiently was enough to have you swooning.

The smirk creeping up his face has your own rising. His eyes scanning your face for anything. Injuries, trauma, shock, terror. He found nothing like that. All he found was...adoration? That can't be. After all he did, all he tried to hide from you? You've seen him do unsavory things to the Locust, deserved or not. He must be seeing things.

You can see the doubt rising in his blue eyes, so you place your good hand on his cheek. Oh, he loved how warm you were. He placed his own on yours. The stark Contrast to his scarred hands and your soft ones always fascinated him.

"Thank you for taking care of me. You don't understand just how much I need you." You say softly, knowing he likes to keep your love life separate from the reality both of you were in. You leaned forward, Marcus wasting no time to meet you halfway for a soft, heart-filled kiss.

Marcus thanked God that he was given a small piece of solace in the apocalyptic world he lived in. You were his paradise, and his endgoal. One, if not only, reason he kept fighting. To give you a better future. One where you both could live peacefully.

"You ain't got no clue how much you mean to me." He murmured against your lips, before pulling away slowly. The love you both shared was enough to keep you warm for the night.

Tomorrow would bring another onslaught of horrors. You and Marcus could have the night to be together until then.

[mutilatemyheart]

Summary: Scorch convinces you to play hide and seek with him and his brothers, and you find yourself in a dark closet with Fixer. Warnings: Mention of abuse. My unedited writing. I don't think anything else, but let me know if I miss something. Pairing: Fixer x fem!reader if you squint Word Count: 1749

Your pulse pounds in your ears as you move as quickly as you can without drawing attention to yourself. Can the troopers in the hallway see the anxiety that’s written all over your face? This was just supposed to be a silly, fun game. Instead, you’re now looking for a decent place to hide from the sniper of Delta Squad. Scorch had all but begged you to play hide and seek with them, but he hadn’t told you that Sev would be taking it so seriously. You knew you weren't in any danger, but your body hadn't gotten the message yet. Delta Squad plays to win. No matter how trivial the objective is.

The supply closet isn’t the best place to hide, but you’re out of ideas, and you know you can’t stay out here in the open. A sigh of relief pushes past your lips as the door slides closed in front of you. For the time being, you can catch your breath and relax alone for just a moment. Or, well, you think you’re alone. Someone clears their throat behind you, causing you to jump. Is it Sev? How had he known where you would hide? Has he been tucked away in here waiting? Are you that obvious?

The clone sitting on the supply crate with his back against the wall isn’t Sev. The dim blue glow from the datapad in his hands illuminates his face in the darkness of the closet. Fixer doesn’t budge from his perch on the crate as you stand awkwardly across from him. The two of you have barely spoken to each other in the few weeks you’d known the Deltas. He was polite enough, but he was never one to start up a conversation or any kind of small talk with you. You felt like Scorch had asked you for your entire life story when you met, but Fixer had kept his distance. A silent observer.

“This is the best you could do?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.

Warmth spreads across your cheeks, and you’re thankful for the shadows surrounding you. You’ve been wanting to get to know Fixer better and had wanted to spend some time with him one on one, but this is not how you thought it would go. He probably thinks you’re an idiot for picking a stupid hiding place. You want to run out and take your chances being caught by Sev.

But you don’t.

“You’re in here,” you quip back.

He sets the datapad down on his lap and crosses his arms. You hadn’t realized how much muscle the commando’s armor hid. You’ve known that he and his brothers were solid, but the way the fabric of the red fatigues stretches across his arms and chest make your knees feel weak.

“Thought he’d search harder places to get to first. Places like this give me time away from Sev and Scorch’s osik. They take longer to look in simple spots.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other as his gaze bores into you.

“Sorry.” You turn back to the door to leave. “I didn’t mean to interfere with your alone time. I’ll find somewhere else.”

“Stay,” he says, shocking you. He scoots to one side of the crate to make room for you. “If they spot you, it may lead them to me.”

Ah. You sit down next to him, careful not to touch him. You finally have him all to yourself, and he wants you there. Okay, maybe not for the reasons you want him to want you there, but he asked you to stay. That’s something. So, why do you feel like an awkward teenager on a first date? You’re not sure what to say to him, but you want to break the tense silence that’s beginning to settle between you.

“Scorch and Sev have a competition to see who can find the most bizarre place to hide,” Fixer tells you. He keeps his voice low. “Boss had to use a jetpack to get Scorch off one of the ceiling beams above the parade ground. We’re not even sure how he got up there without his kit. My guess is he got one of the Omegas to fly him up.”

“Without his kit? He was up there without any kind of tether?” you ask, bewildered.

You had been told the rules to their version of hide and seek and the perimeters of where you could hide before the game had started. No armor allowed. No loaded weapons. You couldn’t go past the parade ground. No hiding in the ventilation shafts. You had thought it odd that Boss had mentioned that no one was allowed to be anywhere that took being extracted from, but you hadn’t thought too much into it at the time.

“Yeah.” A ghost of a smile flickers across his face. “The di’kut was up there laughing his shebs off. Boss threatened to leave him up there for the night, but that wouldn’t have been worth the hiding we’d all get from Sergeant Vau if he found out.”

You’d heard them mention their former training sergeant before, but you never asked too much about him. While they all seem to respect him and care for him in their own ways, the stories they told weren’t very pleasant.

“I thought he didn’t have anything to do with the army anymore?”

“He’s no longer a sergeant, but he’s around. He keeps tabs on us to make sure we’re not embarrassing him,” Fixer tells you. A dark look clouds his face in the dancing shadows cast by the eerie glow of the datapad, and the tone of voice he uses makes you feel for a moment that you’re around a campfire listening to a scary story. With the way he and his brothers were raised, he may as well be telling you one.

“Maybe he just wants to make sure you guys are alright?” You suggest, hoping to pull him out of whatever dark place his mind had gone to.

Fixer snorts as if your words are unbelievable. His eyes focus on the door across from the two of you as if he's waiting for Vau to burst it open and berate him for wasting time. Does he carry that fear of not living up to expectations with him everywhere? You had heard Sev mention how their former sergeant would react if they ever failed. Does Fixer also have that voice in his head telling him he has to be perfect? Does he know that he’s enough just the way he is?

“Do you ever get in on it as well?” you ask, changing the subject.

Fixer frowns. His eyebrows knit together in question when he looks back to you.

“The competition,” you clarify. “To find the most bizarre hiding place. Or, do you prefer moments like this instead?”

His teeth capture his bottom lip slightly, and you wonder what it would be like if it were your own teeth pulling it in. You meet his eyes and try to push the thought from your mind. You had promised yourself that you wouldn’t become involved with any of your new friends romantically, but in this dark little room with his body so close to yours. You can’t help but notice how much warmth radiates off of him… or how nice he smells.

He huffs a laugh. “Can’t say I’ve ever had a moment like this. I’ve never been alone with a pretty girl before.”

Your eyes widen. Did he really just say that? He clears his throat again and looks pointedly anywhere but at you. His expression looks as if he’s asking himself the same question.

“I can be just as competitive as they are, but it depends on how the last mission went if I join in,” he tells you. He doesn’t elaborate further. “I was surprised you agreed to play along.”

You were more surprised when they asked if you wanted to. You knew that Delta Squad kept mainly to themselves. You were an outsider in every way, but they didn’t treat you like it. Not anymore, at least. When Scorch had first brought you around, they had looked at you like you were lost, and honestly, you had felt it at that time. You wonder what changed for them, but you’re thankful for whatever it was.

“I like hanging out with you guys. I missed you-”

“Did you hear that?” Fixer interrupts you. His body tenses.

You shake your head and look toward the door. Is someone coming? Is it one of the Jedi? How are you supposed to explain why the two of you are so close together in a dark closet to anyone other than his brothers?

The door slides open and casts you both in blinding light. You feel like an animal of prey with the eyes of a hunter on you as a silhouette fills the doorway.

“And what do we have here?” Scorch’s voice is much too cheerful. “You know, if you two wanted some time alone, all you had to do was ask.”

Fixer relaxes beside you and mumbles something in a language you don’t understand.

“Does this mean ‘game over?’” You ask.

Sev peers over Scorch’s shoulder. “Yeah. Boss wants us back at the barracks. New orders just came in.”

The grins on their faces more than tell you that they’re going to rib Fixer about this later. If the annoyed look on his face is anything to go by, he knows it too. He stands from his seat on the crate and offers you his hand to help you up. His skin is warm against yours. His hand lingers in yours for just a moment before it slips away.

“Thank you for letting me hide with you,” you tell him, already missing the feeling of his skin on yours.

He nods. “We’ll pick a better place next time.”

Next time.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” you grin.

You wish them all a good night as you step out into the bright lights of the hallway and watch as they make their way toward the barracks. Fixer glances back for just a brief second as he follows behind his brothers.

“Who said you get to hide with her again?” Scorch asks. “Maybe we want to, ner vod.”

They’re too far gone to hear Fixer’s response, but Sev’s laugh echoes through the corridor back to you. You really have missed them.

[sweetheartsnips]

The 'Man' in Commando Part 1

Rating: Mature/18+/ MINORS DNI! BE GONE!

Pairing: RC-1207 Sev x Fem!Reader (Bartender)

Wordcount: 1.9k

Summary: A female bartender at 79s comes across one interesting Republic Commando among the hundreds of troopers she serves every day.

Warnings: Submissive reader, Sub/Dom undertones, mentions of (fake) blood, Glove kink, Voyeurism (if you squint), Alcohol consumption, Drunkenness (in patches),

A/N: My second ever fic, and my first that gets 'intimate'. I have no idea what I am doing. I have been playing Republic Commando and I wrote this in horny jail and should be punished for my sins. Please go easy on me.

Read on Ao3 here

Your job wasn’t overly glamorous, but it sufficed. The countless shinies trying to get you in bed and the wrangling of intoxicated troopers got old very quickly, as did the neon lighting and the smell of unshowered soldiers. Tonight, 79s was packed to the rafters. Hundreds of clones danced, drank and unwound under the blanket of cheap, flickering neon lighting. The GAR was celebrating from a successful campaign in the Expansion Region, as you had heard from every second trooper chewing your ear off. 

The bar was a mess. One of your service droids was out of operation, falling victim to flying glass of spotchka that was hurled over the bar. Pouring yet another round of shots, you placed the last one on the tray, picked it up and turned to carry it over to the larrikin of a trooper that probably shouldn’t have been allowed to order more drinks. Before you could even take one step, a stray service droid was underneath you, tripping you and spilling a whole round of shots all over your front, the droid, and the floor. 

“Kriff, AZI!” You shouted. More items to the list of things that had gone wrong tonight. 

An even stickier floor and another broken droid. “Get that trooper another round”, you muttered to the nearest functioning droid. Collecting yourself, you stood up and brushed some stray hairs behind your ear. Before you could turn to make your way to the backroom to get changed, something, someone, caught your eye. 

A T-shaped blue visor glowed through the crowd, pushing shinies aside, as he followed three other familiar troopers. The famed Delta Squad. Except this time, the fourth member of the quartet was with them. He was the most striking, and the most intimidating. A blood-coloured handprint stained the face of his helmet, down his arms and splattered over his chest. He followed his brothers, yet kept his distance. Shinies cleared their way for them, for him, as if he had the blue shadow virus. He was the only one out of his brothers that still donned his helmet. The buzz of troopers and thumping of the music faded into the background as you watched him curiously. Who was this commando? 

In your trance you hardly noticed that he had separated from his brothers and was approaching the bar. Approaching you. 

Snapping out of it, you greeted him, “What can I get for you, commando?”, offering him a smile.

“Whiskey. Neat please”. His charming, gravelly voice startled you. He didn’t sound like any of the other clones. His voice was deep, harsh, and sounded like could take out a battle droid in itself. 

“No worries”, you said, clearing your throat that was suddenly dry, “Coming right up”. 

You turned your back to the trooper, reaching to the top shelf for some of your finest whiskey. Not that this bar carried anything overly remarkable. You felt your ill-fitting tight shirt ride up as you reached above your head,  embarrassment blazing across your cheeks as you felt the trooper’s eyes burning into your exposed skin, even through the helmet he still wore. Why does this commando intimidate you so much? You deal with troopers every day. But he was different. 

You grabbed a hold of the bottle and turned to him. You could feel his eyes meet yours through his helmet. Your eyes lingered for a fleeting moment, but soon broke his gaze. you poured his drink and sparked up conversation to try and relieve your nerves. 

 “I hope that isn't real blood, commando, because I may just have to have you removed from the premises.” You raised an eyebrow, still pouring the whiskey. He didn’t respond. 

“I know that you’re a soldier and all, but having blood smeared across your bucket isn’t exactly appropriate, let alone appetising.” You teased, yet he still didn’t answer. You finished preparing his drink and sat it on the bar in front of where he had since taken a seat. 

“Not talkative tonight?” you asked, desperately trying to relieve the awkwardness that had overcome you.

“Sev. Call me Sev. And I’m quite happy just sitting here listening to you, mesh’la” His baritone voice made your stomach flutter, as did his compliment. It was different coming from him than any other trooper that had tried the same trick on you.  He raised his hands to grip either side of his helmet and slowly removed it, revealing himself. Thick, glossy curls of jet black hair curtained his tanned face, his deep amber eyes maintaining eye contact with you. A pink scar sliced from his mid forehead, over his eye and cheekbone, down to his chin. His thick jaw clenched as a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, him obviously having caught you ogling at him. 

He wrapped his large, gloved hand around the glass in front of him and raised it to his lips. Sipping his drink, he lowered it back down to sit on the bar. 

“Not bad. You have good taste…….” He trailed off, looking at you with questioning eyes.

“I don’t give my name away to just any charming trooper at my bar”, your snickered, your lips curling into a cheeky smile. 

“So be it, I’ll take that as a challenge.” He teasingly rolled his eyes, rocking in his chair. 

Your eyes lowered to his chestplate, where a set of four numbers carved into the red-stained plastoid stood out. 4982. Interesting, must be his designation number, you brushed your curiosity aside. 

“About the blood”, his thick voice cut in once again, “Don’t worry mesh’la, it may or may not be paint, why don’t you give it the old sniff test and find out” He sneered. 

An incriminating shade of crimson flushed to your cheeks and you felt yourself grow hot, and it wasn’t just the steam from the glass cleaner below you. Wound up, you gathered yourself.

“I don’t sniff clones, commando.” You joked, “Not only is it unprofessional, but the smell of the battlefield isn’t exactly the most pleasant”. 

“79s smells like that every night”, he stated. His gaze felt as if he could read your very thoughts and feelings. 

“I suppose so. I better get back to work”, you shrunk down underneath his gaze and cowered away from the banter. 

You turned away from Sev, nerves or excitement, you couldn’t really tell, still fluttering in your stomach. A very familiar pair of ARC troopers in blue were waiting at the bar for you. 

“Look who is here” Fives says, “My favourite bartender! Somebody has to keep those droids in line!” He gestured at the broken droids still on the bar floor, elbowing his twin and bursting out into laughter. 

“I’ve been too busy to get rid of them, obviously”. You defended. Busy with Sev. 

His laughter fading,  Fives’ gaze slid to look over your shoulder. 

“Mesh’la, ‘t looks like somebody has their eye on you tonight”, Fives acknowledged, nodding in the direction that Sev had been sitting, “We’ll leave you to it”. Fives and Echo turned to go back to the booth where the rest of the 501st regulars sat. 

Once again, that feeling of embarrassment and intimidation flooded over you, despite your false sense of confidence minutes earlier. You could do this, you talk to troopers every night without any nerves. He is just like all of his brothers. 

You slowly turned to see Sev undressing you with his eyes. You suddenly felt stupid in your tight, black blouse and slacks. Swallowing, you walked back over to what was now his side of the bar, avoiding the broken droids on the floor. 

“Can I help you, commando?” You asked, trying to snap him out of his lascivious gaze.

“You know those guys?” He snorted, his eyes slowly lingered down your neck and to your decolletage. 

You ignored his wandering eyes, despite the warmth it built up in your core, and contested.

“They’re here all the time. Unlike you, you’re a new face”, you teased, raising an eyebrow. 

He choked on his drink, stifling a laugh, trying not to break his stoic, mysterious facade. 

“I don’t exactly get a lot of time to celebrate, you know, with the war,” he smirked, the eye contact practically melting you onto the sticky bar floor. 

“Pardon me, sir.” You cooed, fluttering your lashes, laying it on heavily,  “How could I forget, it’s not like I work at a clone bar or anything”. 

You’re not sure what set it off for him, but an animalistic look devoured his amber eyes. 

He leant towards you, a low growl building in his chest. Not sure if you should be scared or aroused, you submitted to him, right in front of the entire bar. Surely he just wanted you close so you could hear him over the noise of the bar, right? His rough, gloved hands caressed your chin oh-so softly as he brought his face closer to yours. His warm breath fanned over your face, a hot blanket of desire beginning to suffocate you. You felt yourself grow wet, his eyes so close to yours. Maker, he put the man in commando. 

He broke your gaze, bringing his lips to your ear, “Listen here,” he whispered, his abrasive voice making love to your ear, “You’re going to give me your commlink number,” he demanded, “you’re going to go home early tonight, you’re going to shower and get into your prettiest number, and you’re going to get comfortable in your bed. I’m going to comm you, you will pick up, and you will give me your name.” The last words slowly trickled out of his lips, fading into the background noise of the bar. 

Maker, you had practically soaked through your panties. They were just as wet as the front of your top from earlier. You needed him.

 “...and I’m going to give you 10 credits for another one of those fancy Chandrillan whiskeys”. The rough pads of his still-gloved fingers maintained the hold they had on your chin, and he brought his lips away from your ear painfully slowly. You swallowed, not knowing what to do with yourself. Your core burning with arousal, your thighs rubbed together uncontrollably. His face was still close enough to yours that you were practically sharing the same breaths. His scar was so intimidating, yet so charming this close. 

“Look at you, mesh’la, in knots for me”, he whispered, maintaining his gaze, “No shiny in this bar has ever had you like this before, has he?” 

You shook your head, biting your lip. Any sense of confidence you had now melted away with your utter submission to him. He released his grip from your chin, allowing you to fulfil his demand for another drink. 

You hurriedly poured it for him, all of your professionalism gone with your confidence. You scribbled your commlink number on a napkin, and sat both it and the drink down in front of him.

He downed it in one sip, got up from his seat, grabbed his helmet and turned to leave. 

“I’ll talk to you later, mesh’la”, he smirked over his shoulder. 

Speechless, you mustered up a nod, trying not to embarrass yourself in front of the numerous other troopers at the bar. 

“By the way, I saw you looking at my chest. Four-nine-eight-two. Four-thousand, nine hundred and eighty two Geonosians. One for every fallen commando.” His charming voice lingered as he turned and made his way back through the crowd of troopers to find the rest of his squad. 

Maker, you practically fainted. He was no shiny at all.

[wild-karrde]

Hi! I’m new to the fandom and super duper shy so I wanted to submit for fandom friday on anon just to show some love to some amazing creators I’ve come across 😍

My first is a fic rec, this Fives x OC fic by @ariadnes-red-thread they recently posted chapter two and I can’t wait to see where this story goes!

My second is a fic rec, this Delta Squad x fem!reader fic by @wanderinginksplot another recently posted chapter but the story is so intriguing I can’t wait to see what happens next!

My third is an art rec, this Captain Rex x OC piece by @sleepingsun501 (its so sweet and loving and spicy 🥵) nsfw just to be safe! (I believe the OC belongs to @rexxdjarin and her fic is next on my list!)

My fourth is another art rec, this Mandalorian/Din Djarin piece by @fordo-kixed-rex (which made me laugh so much, I love a good pun)

I hope it’s okay to submit more than one and I hope I followed the rules! (I also hope the links work, I’ve never done it before!)

Much love,

Friendly neighborhood nonnie ❤️

P.s I also love your Fandom Friday’s, and think you’re doing such an amazing thing in sharing the stage for so many others!

SWEET NONNIE! There are so many wonderful creators on here and I cannot rant and rave about them enough. Aria's story is just living rent-free in my brain at all times. Ink is so freaking talented and lovely it blows my mind. Erin's Rex and Mari art is just OOOOOOOOOOF. And Dani's art sent me into a fit of giggles because I too enjoy a most excellent pun! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF THESE SUBMISSIONS! I could not do Fandom Fridays without lovely people such as yourself!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[wanderinginksplot]

Refuge Chapter Six

Continued slow-burn Delta Squad x fem!reader fic

Now that you've made your decision, the real work begins.

Word Count: 4,700

Warnings: Mild suspicions, explosions, mentions of theft and pickpocketing

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

Training

“And certain you are of this choice?” Master Yoda asked you, his voice grave.

You hesitated, unwilling to lie. Were you certain? No, not entirely. But despite your lack of confidence, this was the right decision. You knew that much. Your gut - maybe the Force, maybe just instinct - was drawing you toward Delta Squad, and you knew better than to go against a feeling that strong.

“This is the correct choice,” you answered eventually, deciding on simple honesty.

Yoda's eyes - disproportionately large and disconcertingly insightful - were locked on you for a heart-pounding moment before he nodded slowly. "Agree with you, I do. As does the Council."

That took a moment to filter past the roaring in your ears, but the kind nods and gentle smiles from the Council behind the diminutive Jedi master helped you understand.

"Thank you," you said, fighting back a wince at the tremors you could hear in your own voice.

"It will not be a simple task," Master Unduli warned. "We will not send you into the field without any training."

"Training?" you repeated, frowning at the unexpected revelation.  

"Yes, training." Master Windu's tone was firm. "At the very least, we will teach you to recognize when you're using the Force. Beyond that, you'll get training on how to infiltrate an area, basic combat abilities, weapons training, and as much information about Separatist battle plans and tactics as we can manage."

"And how long will that take?" you asked carefully, striving not to sound ungrateful.

“Likely a few weeks,” Master Unduli calculated. “Delta Squad will complete their next mission alone. You will not accompany them until the following mission.”

“A few weeks,” you mused. It was a shorter span of time than you had expected, but you still had some questions. “I’m sorry, Masters, but that seems like an extremely short amount of time. Am I going to be able to learn everything I need to know by then?”

“It will be a lot of work,” Master Windu warned, his brows lowered into a foreboding line. “You must be prepared for that.”

“The reason your training will not last longer is that we are not teaching you to be a Jedi,” Master Unduli explained. “You will learn some control exercises, but you only need to use them when your emotions begin to get the best of you. You will practice controlling your emotions and recognizing when you are beginning to lose that control. You will learn the basics of working in a combat situation, as well as the expectations of working with the GAR.”

You nodded, but Yoda spoke next. “Warn you, we must. Instructed, Delta Squad has been. If signs of betrayal they see, inform us they will. Watching, we will be.”

“I understand,” you agreed. “When do I start?”

“Today.”

“I’m sorry?” you said politely to Master Yoda. You had heard some of the younglings in the Temple talk about the tiny green Jedi, and all of it was done in tones of awe. He, apparently, was one of the most powerful Jedi to have ever lived… and he had lived for a great deal longer than it would seem. It paid to be polite, even if you were taken fully aback by the answer he had given you. 

“One of the instructors, Master Vildon Haze, is going to begin training you in control techniques,” Master Unduli told you. “This afternoon, your instruction will be undertaken by an expert in the criminal underworld of the galaxy, Master Tera Sinube.”

“So, control over my feelings and learning about the criminal underworld,” you summarized. “Are those going to be the two main things I focus on?”

“Consider this your first lesson,” Master Windu said, not unkindly. “Trust that we know the correct path for you. Save your questions for the things that really matter.”

You bowed your head slightly, trying to decide whether that was something you were able to accept as a good idea. You had always overflowed with questions, doing your best to learn about everything and everyone around you - it was what had helped you survive the Separatists as long as you had. The idea of trying to change that facet of yourself was… uncomfortable.

No, not change, you amended internally. Just bite back. Push it down for a little while as you trained in the Jedi temple. They were not asking you to become a Jedi. As soon as you learned what you needed to know to function alongside Delta Squad, you would be on your own once more and could ask every question that came into your head.

With that in mind, you nodded. “Yes, Masters.”

—

"How do you think the jetii will go about training her?" Scorch asked in a rare quiet moment.

"That really what you're thinking about right now?" Fixer bit out, checking his blaster for damage. 

Scorch shrugged. "What else should I be thinking about?"

Boss stared at him, inclining his head to indicate the current situation. "Finding a way out of this cave would be a good place to start."

"I have a way: a thermal detonator, some explosive tape, and a reckless disregard for life." With that, Scorch finished rigging the improvised blasting system and patted the rock wall beside it. He knew better than to risk patting the system itself. "There you go. Done in less than two minutes and I was able to think about the newest Delta at the same time. Try to act like you aren't impressed."

"I'm not impressed," Sev snapped. "You're the reason we're stuck here in the first place."

It was true, but Scorch didn't let that bother him. Anyone could have thrown a thermal detonator that had a forgotten piece of blasting tape stuck to it. It was just bad luck that the combined explosion had been strong enough to start a rock slide that trapped Delta Squad in a cave.

"Look on the bright side," Scorch suggested. "At least there aren't any enemies out there."

Sev scoffed, but Boss looked at the entrance of the cave, hidden behind a messy spill of rocks. He activated his HUD’s heat sensor with a twitch of his cheek and performed a brief search for living organisms outside. He gave a short nod. 

"Scorch is right: if there are wets out there, they're either dead or dying."

"Just wait until this hits 'em," Scorch agreed, indicating his work on the perimeter of the slide. “Speaking of, take cover.”

Sev wordlessly led the retreat toward the back of the cavern. He had been front and center for most of Scorch’s exploits since… well, since Kamino. Boss and Fixer had been present for more than a few, but their pace was too slow. It told Scorch they didn’t understand what was about to happen, not really. 

Ah, well. They’d find out soon enough. Scorch moved to the closest possible spot that could still be deemed safe, broadcasted a short countdown in the inter-HUD comm channel, and activated the detonator. 

The resulting explosion was stunning, even to the person who had set the charges.

A blinding flash and a deafening roar did their best to destroy two of Scorch’s senses, but the wave broke against the muffling plastoid of his helmet. When the dust settled, there was an open space where the previously blocked entrance to the cave had been. 

“Mission accomplished,” Scorch announced, rising from his protective crouch.

Fixer was cursing into the squad comm channel while Sev growled something foul in Mando’a. Boss strove for a milder tone. “Scorch, you think you might have overshot the parameters of the assignment?”

Scorch turned, arms open wide as he indicated the space around him and over his head. “You said you wanted it clear, Boss. I got it clear. Besides, didn’t the Sarge always teach us that commandos go above and beyond? Or… wait. That might have been the holos of propaganda they show to the natties. But at least we have a clear exit.”

Boss snorted at Scorch’s rambling. As he passed by, taking point as always, Scorch saw his helmet tip back as he admired the results of the demolition job. Or, at least, that’s what he should have been doing. There was room for all of them to leave the cave side-by-side (disregarding the rubble, of course), and the new opening was tall enough to pilot a LAATi through if they had brought one. Honestly, the cave probably wouldn’t last much longer with so much of its structure gone, but it was still standing now. 

Scorch gave himself a pat on the back for that.

“I’m still waiting on an answer,” he reminded the others, trailing behind them. They had left the cave while Scorch admired his own work, leaving him to huck his slightly-lighter pack over his shoulder and hustle after them. “What do you think the jetii are doing to train her?”

“Hopefully some basic weapons drills,” Boss replied absently, checking for enemies before he led Delta around a corner.

“Like a jetii knows anything about any weapon other than a lightsaber,” Sev told him, voice sour. “What else do they do to train? They’re probably teaching her a bunch of mystical osik.”

“Watch your tone, oh-seven,” Fixer warned.

Boss’s voice was carefully bland when he responded, ignoring Fixer entirely. “Do you have a problem with me letting someone new join Delta Squad, Sev?”

“She’s not joining us, she’s tagging along,” Sev said.

“You’re the one who said she could keep up with us,” Fixer reminded him. 

“Yeah, as a civilian,” Sev emphasized. “But she isn’t gonna be coming as a civvie. If she’s trained by the jetii, she’ll be considered part of the GAR.”

Boss was still wearing his helmet, but it was clear from his tone that he was frowning, unable to see the problem. “And..?”

“And, GAR personnel are all considered expendable,” Sev bit out. “She won’t be protected. She’ll have to come along on all of our missions. And we know what kind of missions we get sent on.”

“Kandosii'la ones?” Scorch suggested.

Sev’s frosty silence said that he didn’t agree with Scorch’s upbeat assessment. “Dangerous ones. Ones where a civvie might be able to wait in the ship or be kept out of the action, but a GAR staff member would be expected to pitch in and keep up. And no month of training is enough for her to do that, especially when that training is being done by the jetii.”

“We’ll just have to keep her safe,” Fixer decreed. “We decided she could be helpful, didn’t we? That hasn’t changed just because her status might.”

“It changes more than you think,” Sev bit out. “We barely got outta that back there. How do you think an untrained civvie would have done? They send us on the missions that can’t be done by standard troopers, and now they want someone with no augmentations to help. And how is she going to help us at all? She did well enough on her planet, but that place was a hundred years behind the rest of the galaxy. She’ll be out of her depth every day, especially with us. She doesn’t have any useful skills other than being ignored.”

Silence fell in the inter-HUD chat as the members of Delta Squad considered that point… though, of course, they disguised it as concentration on picking their way back through the complex network of caves that led back to where they had left the ship. Sev wasn’t known for making long and passionate speeches about anything. The fact that he was doing it now about a civilian who may or may not be considered half a Jedi was concerning. 

They had nearly reached the ship by the time Boss spoke. “For whatever reason, the GAR and the jetii decided that she would work well with us. Civvie or not, skilled or not, she’s part of the squad now.”

The quiet was oppressive until Scorch decided to break it with his favorite weapon: a joke. “Don’t worry, Sev. Worst case, we’ll just send her back to the Triple Zero and forget she ever existed.”

Sev didn’t answer out loud, but the rest of Delta Squad saw the slight, doubtful shake of his head.

—

Your time at the Jedi Temple passed much the way you had assumed it would. As the members of the Council had told you, your training consisted mostly of time spent learning to control your emotions and to do basic surveillance. 

Master Haze was normally assigned to work with the younglings of the Jedi Temple. The Iktotchi female was particularly skilled with children, but she was able to adapt her teaching style to one that you responded to quite well. You felt like you were improving rapidly on controlling your emotional response to everything that had happened. With her guidance, you had confronted your two major sources of emotional turmoil: your grief about the past and your fear about the future.

Master Sinube was an elderly male Jedi. You weren't familiar with his species and it felt rude to ask. In any case, he was often overlooked by others. Whether it was because of his age or his tendency to ramble, Master Sinube was constantly underestimated by those around him. Under his tutelage, you learned to see beyond sight, to listen instead of simply hear, and to don an unremarkable aura like a cloak.

Eventually, you added a third piece of training, done in the form of lessons with Jedi Master Quinlan Vos. 

Master Vos was another expert in the criminal underworld. While Master Sinube specialized in the peoples of Coruscant, Master Vos had a more generalized skill set. More importantly, he was still actively going undercover and knew the intricacies of how the war had impacted crime. 

Realistically, you were underprepared for war. You had gone from never having left your home to preparing for galaxy-wide travel, all in a very short span of time. If you had the choice, you would elect for more training, but - as the Masters reminded you - you would resume training between missions, every time you were on Coruscant. For now, you had gained an understanding of the way things worked. That didn’t feel like it would be enough, but the hope was that any gaps would be covered by your connection to the Force. 

In any case, you were far beyond where you had been when you first arrived at the Jedi Temple. You had formed connections with the Jedi, learned to balance your emotions with your new-found abilities, and learned how to navigate through the underworld you would find on all too many planets through the galaxy. Did you feel ready? No. But the Jedi Masters constantly assured you that you were ready, and that would have to be good enough. 

Finally, you were called into the Council’s chambers. There were several Masters missing. That wasn’t unusual - the demands of war took them all away from Coruscant, though some more often than others - but some of the faces you had relied on seeing were gone. A blue, flickering version of Master Unduli hovered just over her customary chair, but Master Windu wasn’t present even in hologram form. Still, you had gotten familiar with some of the other masters over your time at the Temple and weren’t completely lost in the group.

“You have made excellent progress over the past few weeks,” Master Fisto told you, a broad grin stretched across his face. “How do you feel?”

You straightened your shoulders, trying to project confidence as you matched Master Fisto’s smile. “I know I have a great deal left to learn, but I feel I’m much better off than when I first arrived. Thank you all for helping me.”

The typical Jedi bow felt odd and alien still, but you gave a deep nod to show your respect to the gathered Masters and were happy to see them respond in kind. 

“We must have some proof of your abilities before we send you into the field,” Master Secura warned. “It would be irresponsible of us to order an untested civilian into danger without knowing that you can look after yourself.”

“I understand,” you agreed easily. “What do you want me to do?”

The other Masters glanced at Master Yoda. The diminutive being beamed at you. “A special mission, we have for you…”

—

Fixer bit back a sigh as he watched Scorch crane his head around, trying to look in every direction at once. Delta Squad had been on Coruscant before, but it had been a different quadrant and, apparently, Scorch thought this new one was just as interesting.

Not that it would have mattered if Delta had been assigned to that very neighborhood where they had been last time. Given the cramped space and the incredible population density, even that small area had probably changed dramatically in the time since Delta had left. There were only so many beings who could occupy the same space before homeostasis became impossible.

He couldn’t really blame Scorch for studying their surroundings so eagerly… but that didn’t stop him from being irritated. “Six-Two, you’ll hurt your neck if you keep doing that.”

Scorch’s only reply was a scoff, but he did dial it back, relying on the holocams embedded in his HUD to provide him with a 360° image of the crowded street they were walking down. The buildings towered overhead, narrowing the sky to a slight flash of light between the transports caught in a line of traffic. Even here, on the top level of Coruscant, seeing the sky was a luxury reserved only for those who could pay for it. 

“I don’t know why the jetii had us run their errands,” Sev bit out, his low voice harsh over the crispness of their in-HUD comms. “Isn’t it enough we’re fighting their war?”

“Sev,” Boss warned. “Stow the attitude. It took us four minutes out of our way.”

“And you’re not even the one carrying the shuk’yc box,” Fixer added. He thought about tapping the small rectangle at his belt for emphasis, but he could feel Sev’s glare through both of their helmets and knew his brother had gotten the point.

“What are the medals for, anyway?” Scorch asked, apparently having gotten his fill of the streets of the Triple Zero. “Are we getting promoted?”

The snort could have come from anyone, but Fixer’s credits were on Sev.

“Pretty sure they’re jetii-specific,” Boss told him. “Counts out any of us verde.”

“Shame,” Scorch said carelessly. “I could use a new rank.”

“Why?” Fixer asked, unable to prevent himself from tossing out the barbed comment that had come to him. “You aren’t doing much with your current one.”

“Because I’m not being challenged,” Scorch complained.

“That isn’t true,” Sev joined in. “Just because you haven’t beaten a challenge doesn’t mean you haven’t gotten any.”

Fixer snickered as Scorch threw an elbow at the deep-voiced commando. “Har, har, Sev. If you want to see a real challenge-”

“Men,” Boss said sharply, cutting off whatever antics that may have started. “Pipe down and hurry up. We have a meeting with the jetii and I don’t want to be late.”

Delta Squad obliged, the men cutting their bickering short as they picked up the pace. Fortunately, their white armor and the intimidating shape of the commando visors helped them cut effortlessly through the crowd.

Or almost effortlessly. 

Even as the thought crossed his mind - though it was couched in the uncomfortable realization that they were designed to protect these beings and most of them were more scared of Delta Squad than they would have been of Grievous himself - a short form collided with Fixer.

He glanced down in surprise, catching sight of wide eyes and a gasping mouth under a deep hood before the being gave a hoarse yelp, ducked its head, and scurried away. 

“However much Procurement spent on the proximity sensors in your armor,” Scorch remarked, “I’m glad to know it wasn’t wasted on you, Fixer.”

Fixer rolled his eyes, grumbling at his loud-mouthed brother, and focused on their path through the city. 

“Do you think she’s done training?” Boss asked, unprompted. There was a beat of silence between them, one that stretched only a millisecond too long before Boss added, “That’s why they’ve brought us back here. It has to be.”

“You don’t think they would send her to meet us somewhere?” Sev asked.

“No.”

Scorch, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain, said, “She’s only been with them a few weeks. Maybe they brought us here for something else?”

Fixer shook his head. “We’re not important enough to be invited to meet with the Jedi Council if it doesn’t have to do with her. Do you think we’ll be invited to see her graduation ceremony?”

“She’s not a shiny leaving Kamino for the first time,” Sev told him derisively. “They won’t give her a ceremony. They probably won’t even evaluate her skills.”

“How would they, with the skills they say she has?” Boss asked.

“I would start with a basic weapons skill test.” Scorch shook his head. “Gonna guess that would be asking too much from the Jedi. Do any of them have to take tests?”

“Sort of,” Fixer told him, watching from the corner of his eye as a group of younglings appeared and started begging for credits from the people walking just ahead of Boss. Well, half of them were begging, the other half were picking pockets. They were smart enough not to try either move on the troopers. “They pass a ‘Trial’, but there’s no telling what that is. Sometimes the Jedi create it, but it’s usually something that happens to them in the field. A challenge they overcame.”

There was a curious pause after that, but Fixer kept his eyes on the surprisingly skilled younglings. Eventually, Boss huffed out half a laugh. “Didn’t know you were an expert on the Jedi, Fixer.”

Fixer shrugged. “Pays to know about the people in charge of commanding the GAR.”

He, of course, didn’t offer up the information that he had only recently become interested in the Jedi, what was expected of them, and what they were and weren’t allowed to do. Very recently.

“We’re getting close on time,” Boss commented. Fixer’s HUD chronometer told him the same thing. “Double-time, men.”

At the commandos’ increased pace, they were at the Jedi Temple before any more conversation could be had. Fixer didn’t mind. Despite their best efforts, Delta was a little late to the meeting - not by more than a few minutes, but from Boss’s impatient huffs in the repulsorlift, it was too much.

Still, when they got to the Jedi Council’s chamber, their entrance didn’t interrupt anything. The Council members were sitting in peaceful silence other than a few scattered conversations between holofigures. You were nowhere to be found.

Boss snapped a crisp salute and the rest of Delta followed his lead. “Delta Squad, reporting. Apologies for our tardiness, sirs.”

“Worry not,” General Yoda assured him. “Started, we have not.”

“Yes, we could hardly begin the proceedings without you,” General Kenobi agreed, seemingly amused by some kind of private joke. Fixer couldn’t say what was funny, but at least the Jedi didn’t seem to be laughing at them. 

“Where is she?” Scorch asked, and Fixer was relieved to see that his brother had asked it in their inter-HUD comm channel rather than aloud. “Shouldn’t she already be here?”

“Maybe she’s late, too?” Fixer suggested.

“Or she didn’t want to see Scorch’s di’kutla face again,” Sev opined.

“You two don’t want to see the punishment I cook up if you start bickering in front of the Jedi Council,” Boss warned, voice heavy with threat. 

There was no more inter-HUD communication. 

The quiet in the chamber was so intense that Fixer nearly jumped when the repulsorlift in the atrium warned of another arrival. He turned reflexively and was thankful for the cover of his helmet when he saw you hurrying into the room.

He expected you to look flustered, but your general appearance of disarray seemed to be due to excitement and… pleasure? You were wearing an odd assortment of clothing - an ill-fitting, bland-looking array of gray, brown, and dark green - though the bright yellow of your vambraces flashed through the gloom. 

As you walked forward, Fixer’s training leapt to the front of his mind. There was armor in your clothing. Not much of it, but enough to reduce the risk of being hurt. 

After you had been politely greeted by the Council, General Windu arched his brows. “And? Did you succeed?”

“I did!” you confirmed with a joyful smile, reaching toward one hip.

“Perhaps you should tell Delta Squad about your mission first?” General Secura encouraged.

“Of course,” you said, a slight hint of embarrassment dimming your happiness for only a moment. When you turned toward them, your brow creased oddly. “Why are you still wearing your helmets?”

The question hung heavy in the air for a moment before Boss broke the seal between his helmet and his body glove, pulling off his bucket and tucking it under one arm. The rest of the squad followed his example, and were rewarded with another beaming smile from you. 

 “I was given a single piece of information and sent to use it however I thought most appropriate,” you explained. Privately, Fixer thought that was a little vague, but you continued. “In this case, I was told that a group of soldiers was going to pick up some Jedi artifacts.”

General Koon leaned forward in his chair, templing his long fingers. “And what did you do with that information?”

“I tracked Delta Squad from the GAR dockyards and followed them until they picked up the artifacts. I was able to recover them from Fixer and then tailed them the rest of the way here. They never saw me.”

“Is that true?” General Windu asked Boss. “Did you or any of your men see her or otherwise suspect that something may have been wrong?”

“I had no idea,” Boss told him, a shade of respect in his tone. “Men?”

“Not a clue,” Scorch chimed easily.

Sev shook his head.

Fixer opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His stomach twisted unpleasantly. That small box - its weight nearly imperceptible - weighed heavy in the pouch at his hip. You hadn’t gotten the medallions from him, but could he make the Jedi somehow believe that you had? Maybe if he pretended he had put them in a different pouch… 

At last, he realized that he probably wouldn’t be able to lie to an entire group of Jedi. He pulled the box from his belt.

“I… still have this, though,” he admitted, trying to apologize to you with his eyes alone. Another trooper would have understood the non-verbal communication in a moment, but natties only knew what they could hear out loud. 

He held the box out to you, but you only watched him with amusement on your face. “Open it.”

Fixer pulled the box back, staring at it for a moment before he did as you said. The box opened easily, revealing an utter lack of contents.

General Windu cleared his throat. “Again. Did any of you see her or suspect something was wrong?”

Fixer shook his head slowly. “No. I- I never even felt someone touch the box.”

“Does that mean I passed?” you asked. 

“Yes,” General Yoda said, inclining his wrinkled head. His expression grew solemn the next moment. “But warn you, we must: face many more challenges on the battlefield, you will. Hmm… difficult challenges indeed.”

“I understand, Master,” you said, offering a bow to the gathered Jedi. “Thank you all for the training and allowing me this opportunity. I look forward to using what I’ve already learned and learning more every time I return to Coruscant.”

General Yoda smiled kindly. General Windu looked to Boss. “Boss, you and Delta Squad are scheduled to leave Coruscant early tomorrow morning. You’ll be accompanying the Wolfpack on a relief mission. We’ll meet for a briefing at twenty-one thirty.”

Boss saluted. “Yes, sir!”

“C’mon,” Scorch urged, cutting his salute short to tug at your arm. “Drop off those medals and we’ll find a fun way to spend our time planetside.”

---

Author's Note - Not a huge fan of this chapter, honestly, but we needed to get it out of the way to set up for the next few! Thank you to those who have been reading and leaving kind comments and waiting so patiently. I appreciate you!

You can find other works on my masterlist or sign up for my taglist here.

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[moodymisty]

If you could spend a whole day with any squadron who would it be and why?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3]

So, I'm gonna use this largely as an excuse to write cute headcanons for my boys, my men, the lights of my life

✨ Delta Squad ✨

Keep in mind not everything here is canon anymore, since some tidbits of the Republic Commando lore, particularly in the books, got written over by TCW show and Disney's canon/legends shitshow

⊳ Delta squad gets up to mad chaos; Like they can put the 501st to shame with some of the banthashit these mad lads get up to.

As in you could be having a conversation with someone and casually mention a time that Sev rode a spider droid as if that's just a 'normal week with the boys', meanwhile everyone else is like w h a t.

And as such, they make the best clones to spend time around; Because no day is ever boring with Delta Squad on your heels.

⊳ Over the course of one day you'll probably end up making some sort of illegal explosive with Scorch, Sev teaches you the best way to kill a man larger than you with just a vibroknife; Boss attempts to get the previous two to stop teaching you these things, and then you'll drink some sort of hot drink be it tea or caf with Fixer and wonder just how they're some of the best GAR has to offer.

⊳ Being trained hands-on by multiple Mandalorians they more than likely know a decent bit of Mando'a, as well as Mandalorian culture in general, as it's a huge part of their 'unique' upbringing. As such it's hilariously quick even after a short while how much you pick up from them, or what they tell you.

And as for who teaches you all the swear words? Scorch doesn't because he thinks 'you're too cute to say those things', and Boss refuses because he's supposedly got a reputation to uphold.

But one day you end up yelling some sort of horrible Mando'a swear and it turns out Fixer is the one who 'taught' you, because he's constantly mumbling them under his breath and you picked up on them like a keen child. You use it non-stop all day now, and Scorch finds it hilarious.

⊳ Clone commandos are raised from birth in pods of four, making them extremely attached to each other and by extension, super untrusting of anyone outside of their 'pod brothers'. If you become part of that little circle, I don't think there's a droid or Sith or trooper in that galaxy that can stop these guys from being super protective.

If you pick a fight with one you get the rest, and the same goes for you, as well. If you're at a bar and someone doesn't take your 'no' for an answer? They're going to be staring down four extremely displeased commandos.

It's sweet, until the physical altercations start and you have to break them up before things get too crazy.

⊳ And just for a romantic crumb at the end here; If you're romantically involved with any of them, the others will absolutely bully the ever-living soul out of him. Nothing is sacred, and they'll always find a way to get in a jab.

"Did you hunt her down like all those droids Sev? Or did you actually speak some words for once?"

"Just don't blow up the first girl to give you the time of day, Scorch."

"And here I thought Fixer was too busy nagging us to spend time with someone else."

"Awww, Boss brought his cyare with? She's not going to reprimand us for breaking protocol like you do, right?"

[demxters]

—LOVING YOU IS THE ANTIDOTE

frat!jake seresin x f!reader

dagger squad college!au

summary: you didn’t like jake seresin. you tolerated him. if you hadn’t befriended bradley bradshaw, you wouldn’t have given him the time of day. he was everything you weren’t. delta chi’s golden boy, popular, desirable, and a charmer. you did not like jake seresin. so why did it hurt when he didn’t want you?

wc: a monstrous 8.6k

warning(s): 18+, fem!reader, no y/n (reader goes by nickname ace), mentions of sex/hookups, alcohol and drinking, weed (briefly mentioned), self deprecating thoughts, jake is lowkey an asshole, and language

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!

Whoever said group projects got easier in college don’t know what they’re talking about. If anything, group projects were the bane of your existence—the reason why you considered dropping out every semester. Being in your third year, you were just barely surviving the group project epidemic. This semester, however, had you at your wits end. All because of a stupid assigned group project.

You had an affinity for being a perfectionist. You were all work and no play. While many of your peers thought it was infuriating, you saw it as your best feature. You got things done. You couldn’t say the same for everyone else. A stick in the mud, a hardass, whatever they chose to call you didn’t matter at the end of the day.

“I’m telling you Nat, they’re imbeciles. The entire time we were exchanging contact information, I thought my head was going to explode from the idiocy spewing from their mouths.” Sitting in the busy dining hall, you rant to your best friend Natasha Trace of the absolute horrors of group mates you’ve been given for this assignment.

You met Natasha at a student mixer in your first year of university. The two of you hit it off immediately from bonding over your tastes for cheesy romance novels and an overly concerning obsession for Dr. Pepper and Smarties. Since then, you two became thick as thieves and haven’t looked back since. 

“Maybe you’re being a little too quick to judge,” Nat counters, playing on the remaining peas on her plate with her fork. “You haven’t even given ‘em a chance yet.” That was Natasha for you, ever the voice of reason for your dislike of any person who wasn’t the three you were friends with. 

You roll your eyes and cross your arms across your chest with a pout. “If you met them, I bet you would be saying the exact same thing. Besides, they’re frat guys. Isn’t that reason to hate them enough?” 

“Why didn’t you lead with that? What’re their names? We can get Mickey to stalk them on Instagram or something.” Her eyes light up at the idea. She doesn’t even give you the chance to answer as she pulls out her phone, no doubt to text Mickey if he could do her a favor. 

Mickey Garcia was another one of those close friends of yours. You met him at a Halloween Party where he showed up dressed as Poe Dameron from the later Star Wars movies. Your affinity for Star Wars and a love for Oscar Isaac drew you to him, eventually earning him the affectionate nickname of Fanboy. You introduced him to Natasha and the rest was history. 

You swat at her hand, silently telling her to drop her phone. “No. We are not stalking them on Instagram.” 

The sound of her text tone going off makes you groan. “Too late. Mick already said he’d do it. So, what are their names?” 

You shovel another spoonful of mashed potatoes into your mouth before begrudgingly responding. “Bradley and Jake.” Their names taste like acid in your mouth. So what if you were being a little too quick to judge? You’ve done enough group projects to know this would end up being yet another you would be doing all by yourself. 

Natasha’s quiet as she types up their names and sends them back to Mickey. Barely five minutes passes when she receives a response back. “Is this them?” She shows you her screen and at this point, you’ve learned not to question how Mickey could have possibly found them in the sea of Jake and Bradleys that go to your university–let alone pick out the right ones. You nod and she laughs, scrolling through her phone before moving to the seat next to you. “What did I tell you? He found their Instagram, Twitter, and Tinder profiles! God bless, Mickey Garcia.” 

You push your head against hers, curiosity killing all resolve you had of not caring. The two of you go through their Instagrams and tagged posts like you were reading the morning paper. There wasn’t anything too surprising about them. It was everything you would expect from a twenty something year old guy in a college fraternity. You hated to admit, however, that they were attractive. You were probably too irritated in class to pay attention to how good looking they are. But that doesn’t dismiss the fact that you were still dreading to work with the two. 

“See?” You tell Natasha, motioning to the photo she has pulled up of Bradley on one of his fishing trips. “They are grade-A assholes. Everything about them screams douchebag.” 

“You gotta admit, they’re hot,” she breathes and you smack her on the shoulder. 

“Natasha Monica Trace!” 

Nat shoves you back before shrugging. “What? Don’t you agree?” 

“Of course I do, but may I remind you that looks do not equal brains.” You snatch the phone from her grasp and exit out of Instagram. 

Nat places a gentle hand on the crook of your elbow, noticing the tension in your body. “Just give them a chance, babe. What’s the worst that could happen?” 

_______

You didn’t think it was possible to be friends, let alone acquaintances with Delta Chi’s favorite heartbreakers. Three months and two parties later, you found yourself tolerating your fellow project partners. Then the impossible happened. Bradley Bradshaw and Jake Seresin proved your first impression of them wrong. Well, Bradley did. Jake was the preppy douchebag you suspected him to be. He sat back while Bradley and you pulled his weight. You hated him and his dimpled, Hollywood smile. You hated those lips that knew exactly what to say to get anyone in a three foot radius on their knees. Not to mention those annoyingly green eyes of his. 

Once the project was complete you thought you’d never have to interact with them ever again. Oh, how wrong you were. If only you hadn’t offered up your apartment to complete the assignment. Then they wouldn’t have met Nat, Mickey, and Bob. They wouldn’t have invited them to their stupid frat party. You wouldn’t have been forced to see them outside of scheduled study time and your friends wouldn’t have fallen perfectly in line with theirs. 

Though you will admit, they weren’t all bad. Surprisingly, you actually appreciated most of their company. Underneath Bradley’s frat boy personality, was a secretly brainy political science major and one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. His other friends, both from Delta Chi, also became fast additions to your little group. Javy Machado and Reuben Fitch were charmers and they knew it. But they were kind and didn’t have an obnoxiously large ego that most frat boys had. 

You loved them all, but you couldn’t stand Jake Seresin. No matter how badly he tried to get on your good side, you wouldn’t have it. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of being another person to fall victim to his charm. 

“Well Ace, you’ve somehow managed to ruin the fun. Again,” Jake deadpans from where he sits across from you at the coffee table. He bet that you couldn’t beat him at a round of chess. You took that challenge and beat him in three rounds. 

A smug smile overcomes your features as you get up from your criss-crossed position and do a little happy dance at Jake’s obvious disappointment. “Snooze, you lose, Hangman.” 

He groans at the appointed nickname you gave him two weeks into knowing him. Jake had been bragging about his latest sexual escapades and Bradley said something along the lines of him leaving his catch of the day hanging, disappearing before morning. The nickname stuck and became universally used within your friend group. 

You miss the slight upward tug of his lips when you turn around and head to the kitchen to grab another bottle of water. 

Bob, who had been observing each match and quietly serving as referee, broke Jake out of his reverie. “You went easy on her.” 

Jake avoids Bob’s inquisitive stare and focuses on the faded chessboard. “No I didn’t.” 

“Yes you did,” he quips, matter of factly. “I’ve seen you play against Bradley. You’re better than that.” 

“Well, maybe I didn’t want her to feel bad for losing,” He shrugs, nonchalantly. 

“Or maybe you just like seeing her win.” 

Jake chucks the pillow he was sitting on at Bob, quickly shutting him up with a squeak. You make your way back to the table, eyeing the two boys at their strange behavior. “You up for one more round, Seresin?” 

He checks his watch. “Can’t. Have a thing with Sarah tonight.” 

The information makes your heart drop just a little bit in your chest, but you regain your composure. You clear your throat and harden your features. “Oh. Have fun at your…thing.” He didn’t have to tell you it was a hookup for you to know it was a hookup. He had “things” every week, which is why you didn’t understand why this time hurt you just a little more. 

The room is silent after Jake leaves with you washing the dishes while Bob sits and reads on the couch. You anxiously looked to the clock that was incessantly ticking away on the wall, desperate for Natasha to get home. You loved Bob, but right now you needed to have some girl talk. 

You exasperatedly sigh, harshly wiping your palms on the dish rag on your shoulder. 

Bob hums, silently questioning what the matter was. 

“Did Nat say when she was coming home?” You throw the rag on the counter and plop yourself down beside him. “I tried texting her but she hasn’t responded.” 

Bob thinks for a minute, then responds, “Nope.” 

“Well how long is it gonna take her to run this damn errand?” 

One thing about Bob: he was a shit liar. The tips of his ears immediately got red and his blue eyes never had the guts to meet those he was lying to. 

“Bob…” You scoot closer to him, noticing the tell tale signs of his dishonesty. 

“What?” His voice cracks and so does his last bit of dignity. 

“When’s Natasha coming home?” 

One look into your narrowed eyes is all it takes to have Bob breaking his resolve. “Alright, fine. She said she was going to be out past dinner.” 

“Why?” 

The frown on your face almost breaks his heart. “She–well…” He hated lying to you, especially when you looked at him like that. Your little pout and wide eyes had him cursing silently. “She went on a date.” 

“Oh.” Your brows screw up in confusion. “Then why didn’t she just tell me?” 

Bob cringes. “Don’t tell her I told you, otherwise she will kill me.” 

You hold your pinky out to him with a small smile. He links his with yours and the two of you press a soft kiss to your fisted hands before pulling away. 

“Alright, fine. She didn’t tell you because she’s going on a date with Javy,” he rushes out. 

You blink, processing the information. You and Nat told each other everything. Why did she feel the need to hide this from you? You voice your thoughts out loud and Bob shakes his head. 

“She thought you were gonna blow up at her for going out with him. You know, because he’s Jake’s best friend and all.” Bob watches you cautiously. Your temper was unpredictable sometimes. One second you would be fine and the next you would be blowing your top off. He wasn’t sure which side of you he was going to get this time. 

A sniffle leaves you and you wipe at your nose with the back of your hand. “Why would I get mad at her for that?” 

“Because you haven’t had the kindest of opinions towards women who date frat guys, especially Delta Chi ones.” 

You vaguely recall that conversation. You had called those women “airheads who are addicted to sex.” But you didn’t mean it. You were drunk and bitter about the fact that you were in your third year of college and still single. Had you known Nat wanted to go out with Javy, you would’ve kept your big mouth shut. “But I like Javy,” is all you can say. 

Bob nods. “Yeah, but you hate Jake.” 

Your gaze snaps back to him. “So?” 

“So, she thought going out with him was like… I don’t know. Fraternizing with the enemy?” 

“But Javy’s my friend. I don’t care about how close he is to Hangman. He isn’t like him,” you huff. Pulling your knees to your chest, you take a deep breath. “If he makes her happy then…she should go out with him. I just wish she told me.” 

Bob wraps his arm around you, tugging you so your head could rest on his shoulder. He knew there was more to this than you let on. But he let it slide, choosing to comfort you in your conflicted feelings. “When Nat gets home, you should tell her that.” “I will,” you murmur into the fabric of his sweatshirt. 

He presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “Good.” 

It’s at that moment that the apartment door swings open, revealing Mickey with Jake in tow. Your head snaps up and you see Jake standing there with his mouth agape. 

Mickey nods at you and Bob in quick greeting before pointing a thumb at the man behind him. “Idiot forgot his jacket again. It’s a good thing he caught me in the parking lot.” 

You laugh awkwardly, stiffening in Bob’s hold. 

You feel his arm drop from around your shoulder as he clears his throat, looking away from Jake. 

“Sorry,” Jake’s voice is rough and there’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite place. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

Bob waves him off. “It’s all good. You weren’t interrupting anything. Right, Ace?” 

You can only nod dumbly, still not taking your eyes off of Jake’s vibrant green. 

Jake clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Alright. Well, thanks again for letting me in, Mick. I’ll um, catch you guys later I guess.” He steals one last look of you snugly wrapped up in Bob before rushing out the door with a small shake of his head. 

Jake doesn’t speak to you for a week after that.

_______

The tune of Slow Ride hits your ears and you groan into your cup. Bradley looks at you in amusement from where you sit beside him on the stairs. The boys had decided to unwind from yet another stressful week with yet another Delta Chi party. You were pretty adamant on sitting this one out, mainly because you didn’t want to see Jake or his new conquest of the week. Things have been tense to say the least. The fact that you and Jake didn’t get along wasn’t new to the group, however as the days passed, your nonstop bickering eventually turned to tolerance for one another. Enough to almost say the two of you were even becoming friends. 

Jake still annoyed you to your core but his company somehow managed to grow on you. Which is why his sudden radio silence upset you. It got to the point that you couldn’t even look at him without seeing red. 

“This is stupid,” you grumble, taking another swig of the cheap beer in your cup. You hated these parties. Normally, your friends wouldn’t mind you opting out to stay home instead. However Nat had noticed how your sour mood progressed throughout the week and concluded that you needed to get out to places that weren’t the lecture halls. She begged you to come with her to the party Delta Chi was throwing this weekend. For me? she pleaded, knowing just how much you hated saying no to her. Now that you were here, you longed to be back in the confines of your apartment, snuggled under your covers with a cup of tea and Emily Henry to keep you company. 

Instead, you found yourself crammed in a two story frat house that was filled to the brim with sweaty and intoxicated bodies. The music was too loud and the smell of alcohol and weed was sure to be stuck on your clothes by the night’s end. The only thing keeping you sane was Bradley’s company and you knew that as the night progressed, even he would soon disappear. 

“You want me to take you home?” Bradley asks, leaning down to your ear so you can hear him. 

You shake your head, pushing at his shoulder. “It’s fine. Besides, I have a feeling you’re gonna get lucky tonight, Bachelor.” You nod towards the blonde in the corner of the room whose eyes haven’t left Bradley since the two of you migrated to the staircase. 

He was practically drooling under the dimmed lights as he followed your motions. Bradley sends the girl a smirk before looking at you wordlessly. 

“Go,” you urge him with a laugh. 

He lets out a breath, downing the rest of his drink and giving your knee a squeeze. “Thanks. I owe you!” 

You playfully roll your eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Be safe!” 

Bradley winks at you over his shoulder. “Always am!” 

The small smile on your lips fades as you watch Bradley go and flirt with the pretty blonde. You were never the center of attention, never the type that anyone gave their time of day to. You were average. Plain boring. The constant reminder of that was there when you hung out with the boys. You loved them, but hearing the way they talked about other girls did take a stab at your self esteem. You used to make fun of them with Natasha but then she started dating Javy, and became one of those girls. And you don’t blame them, your best friend was gorgeous. Anyone with eyes could see that. You convinced yourself that you liked the lack of attention and isolation. But every now and then, you wished someone saw you and thought, Wow. Now that’s someone I want to be with. 

You push yourself off the carpeted stairs, deciding to find Reuben or even Nat and Javy. The cup in your hand is empty anyways. Might as well get a refill while you’re at it. You can barely move through the sea of people that are packed into such a small space. People were grinding against each other left and right, making you want to hurl. You push your way through the kitchen, finally making it to the open patio where beer pong tournaments and sloppy make outs occurred. The cold, night air feels nice against your hot and sweaty skin. You close your eyes, leaning up against the wall and drown out the music and laughter around you. Peace. You just needed a moment of peace. 

You’re too caught up in your own little bubble to notice the presence that saunters up beside you. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?” 

The voice startles you from your moment and your eyes snap open. A hand reaches up to your racing heart and you turn to meet the source of your sudden adrenaline rush. The man beside you is familiar, you’ve seen him once or twice on campus and at other Fraternity events the boys had invited you to. Not to mention, incredibly good looking as well. 

He holds a hand up, almost like he was trying to calm a rattled horse and sheepishly smiles. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” 

You swallow, sharply exhaling and squeezing your plastic up in your hand to ground yourself. “It’s alright.” You avoid his gaze and nervously pick at the chapped skin of your lower lip. 

“Billy Avalone,” he introduces himself with a confident grin. “I think I’ve seen you ‘round with Seresin and Bradshaw.” 

You finally look up to meet his gaze and offer him a dry smile. You offer him an introduction of your own. “Nice to meet you.” 

Billy ever so smoothly scoops up your free hand in his and places a soft kiss to the upside of your hand. Your cheeks heat up at his delicate touch and your knees almost buckle at the glimmer in his eyes. “Trust me, the pleasure is all mine.” 

His manners make you chortle and you snort, pulling away from him to hide behind your smirk behind your palm. 

Rather than drawing away from you, he finds himself intrigued and raises a brow at your amusement. “What?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” you say in between laughter. You grasp your cup with both hands before looking at him with a much more genuine smile on your face. “It’s just… You are not what I expected from a Delta Chi.” 

He nods knowingly, remembering your association with Jake and Bradley. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.” 

There was that ego you were looking for. But it doesn’t deter you like it normally would, in fact you find yourself leaning into him. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You shut your mouth immediately after that, quite surprised by your sudden burst of confidence. 

Billy leans into you just as much, letting his hand brush against your forearm. It sends a shiver down your spine and goosebumps arise on your bare skin. “Nice try, but that’s to be revealed only if you agree to go on a date with me.” 

There was no malice in his tone, no laughing idiots around to signify that anything about this was a joke. The look in Billy’s eyes was full of genuine hope and for the first time that night, you find yourself forgetting all about Jake Seresin and immerse yourself in the idea of Billy Avalone. He was charming and attractive. Lean, but broad enough for you to tell that underneath the jacket he wore was all muscle. You found it hard to believe that Billy had any interest in you and yet, here he was, asking you out on a date. Any other day, you would’ve taken a hard pass.You would’ve told him to move along and put his energy into another person who would consider saying yes. But then you think of Nat and Javy and just how utterly lonely you feel, deciding that Billy was worth the chance and the risk. 

You open your mouth to respond, but stiffen at the feeling of warmth that encapsulates your back. You don’t need to turn to know exactly who it is. The familiar scent of laundry detergent and cinnamon washes over you and you resist the urge to fall into him. 

“Billy,” Jake greets, his voice dropping an octave as he leans in closer to you. His chest just barely brushes against your back sending a new wave of warmth to your neck and cheeks. 

“Hey, Jake.” Billy’s gaze flicks to Jake’s before he focuses his attention back on you, still eagerly waiting for your response. 

Your breath hitches in your throat at the feeling of Jake’s hand on your lower back and you turn to look at him with furrowed brows. His usually well kept hair was stuffed under his backwards baseball cap and despite the chill of the night air he was in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans. 

The air between the three of you is heavy as Billy tries to dismiss Jake’s presence. “So, what do you say about that date?” He smiles at you sweetly, rocking back and forth on his heels. 

Before you can utter a response Jake steps in front of you and blocks you completely from Billy’s view. “Let’s get out of here, Ace.” 

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You scoff, balling your hand up in a fist to resist the urge to slap the back of Jake’s perfect head. “Excuse me? Seresin, will you knock it off?” 

He ignores you, taking a step closer to Billy. Jake straightens his spine. “She’s off limits. Got it, Avalone?” 

“Well, shit, Jake. If that’s your girl, why didn’t you just say so?” Billy gives you an apologetic look from over Jake’s shoulder. 

Jake huffs, almost like an angry bull. “Off. Limits.” 

You frown, adamantly shaking your head. “Wait, Billy. I am not his girl.” 

“No, it’s alright. I’m sorry I even asked. I’ll see you around, I guess.” He knew better than to pick a fight with Jake Seresin. His defeated gaze darts to the floor before he makes his way back into the house. 

Your chest is heaving as you watch Billy walk away. You don’t know whether you want to cry or scream more. You decide on the latter, not deeming Jake worthy of your tears. 

Jake turns to face you, still smiling proudly to himself. His face slightly falls when he meets your eye. He knows well enough that you were not happy. “Ace?” 

You push at his shoulders. “What the fuck, Hangman?” 

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Hang on–”

The palm of your hands make contact with his broad shoulders once more. “Are you kidding me?” You shove him again but Jake’s hardened features don’t falter. “Who gave you the right? Someone was finally interested in me and you just had to drive them away. Your ego really couldn’t handle the fact that I was getting attention. Is that it?” 

“Ace, wait.” He tries to reach for you but you slap his hand away. 

“No, fuck you, Seresin. You can’t…” Your resolve breaks and the tears that sat on your lash line spill over. “You can’t just ignore me for a week only to talk to me after chasing away the one chance of a boyfriend I’ve got. That’s not fair.” 

“You don’t understand. Billy isn’t good enough for you.” 

“Yeah?” You look at him with tear stained cheeks. “Then humor me. Who is?” 

Jake’s words get caught in his throat as he watches you wipe your tears away with the palm of your hand. He wanted to take your face in his hands and brush those tears away. But he knew you wouldn’t let him. 

“That’s what I thought.” You brush past him, knocking his shoulder with your own. “I’m not like the other girls you mess around with. I know that. But that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to feel wanted too.” 

He calls after you, realizing just how horribly he screwed up. But you continue on back inside, probably trying to find Nat or Reuben to take you home. He knew that you weren’t like the other girls. You were different, you were better. You were everything he wanted and more. From the moment he met you, he was hooked. It scared him at first. You were the complete opposite from the girls he usually set his sights on. You were hard headed, independent, unafraid to call him out on his bullshit. You challenged him and he liked that. You weren’t shallow like everyone else and you made him feel seen. 

He never thought a group project would lead him to you. You iced him out at first, and admittedly he knew he deserved that. Then he got to know you and he realized he never wanted to stop. Jake wanted to be the one on the receiving end of your jokes and the affection you gave to those close to you. He dropped his asshole attitude and made the effort to get you to see the real Jake Seresin. And it worked. He was doing so well to finally get you to let your guard down around him. Yet all that work, all that progress, went down the drain because he couldn’t keep his emotions in check. 

By the time Jake caught up to you, you were dragging Natasha out the door with Javy on your tails. His heart dropped to his stomach and he wished he could turn back time to one week ago. Before he hurt you and made you cry. 

_______

Your goal was to forget Jake Seresin ever existed. You threw yourself into your work, locking yourself in your room and spending more time in the library than your own apartment. Now that Nat was officially with Javy, the boys were around more often and you just weren’t ready to face him yet. It wasn’t fair to everyone else, you knew that. But it was easier for you to push them away. You turned back into that academic machine you were before Bradley and Jake forced you out of your shell. You didn’t party, didn’t go out, didn’t join the gang for movie night. Your new friends were your coursework. And when that ran out, you turned to your favorite show reruns for comfort. 

You ignore the series of knocks on your door for the third time tonight. Natasha sighs in defeat, turning back to the group with a shake of her head. “I told you. She’s not coming.” 

Reuben frowns. “Did you tell her Jake wasn’t coming with us?” 

Everyone was aware of your complicated relationship with Jake. The small dance the two of you did was obvious to everyone but yourselves. It was only recently that Jake finally admitted why you’ve been hiding yourself away. If it weren’t for Javy holding her back, Natasha would’ve tore Jake to shreds. 

“I did.” Natasha knew you and she knew you were embarrassed for lashing out at Jake the way you did. Hiding was the safest way to avoid facing yet another humiliating confrontation about your behavior. 

You’ve never spoken to Nat directly about your insecurities, but she saw them in the little things you did. Not bothering to wear extravagant makeup or clothing, putting up a hard front, and pretending not to care. Deep down she knew you cared about how you were perceived. You did care whether or not people found you desirable. You wanted the cliche, movie romance. You wanted someone to sweep you off your feet, just like Westley in The Princess Bride. 

Never, have you let those insecurities break your spirit. Until now. She has never seen you so small. She didn’t understand how Jake Seresin managed to knock you down with just one hit. 

But it has been nearly two weeks since the party and Natasha was done with your groveling and self pity. You were going to get out of your room and you were going to have fun. 

“Just give her a second,” Reuben whispers, having just a little bit of faith left in you. 

It was as if you felt the little piece of hope Reuben had left for you because suddenly, the door of your room swings open and a breath of relief leaves both of your friends. You had decided to come out and join them after all. Nat had told you it was just a casual hangout amongst your friends, bar Bradley and Jake. You settled on changing into an oversized Naval Academy sweatshirt you had thrifted and an old pair of faded jeans. 

Nat hadn’t seen you in anything other than pajama tees and sweatpants so to her, this was a big win. 

Reuben smiles widely at your appearance before coming up to you and gathering you into his arms. “There you are.” His words and affection pulls an unexpected giggle out of you, soothing Reuben and Nat’s nerves. “How’ve you been, Ace?” 

You shrug, shifting in his hold as he keeps an arm around you. “I could be better. But I guess I could be worse too.” 

Natasha hooks your arm with hers, taking you from Reuben’s grasp. “You ready to go? Javy is waiting in the car with Bob and Mickey. I was thinking we could go to The Hard Deck using your car. You know, like old times.” 

That brings a ghost of a smile to your face. The Hard Deck was a place of refuge for you and your group of friends, despite it being a Navy bar. You and Mickey found it by accident, stopping over at the nearest institution because he had to use the bathroom really badly on a drive back to campus. The bartender, Penny Benjamin, was sweet and treated you all like her own children. You haven’t seen her in awhile and just knew a visit to your spot was long overdue. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

The drive to the bar brings a bit of your old spark back. Natasha had the windows rolled down while the two of you belted out your favorite songs at the top of your lungs. She filled you in on all the things you missed from the past couple of weeks, strategically leaving out any anecdotes involving Jake. Though, Nat hasn’t seen him much since the party. It seemed as if he was taken over by the spirit of an old Delta Chi member. He was slumming it with the sorority girls and stayed out late partying with the other guys of his Frat. Bradley had tried to snap him out of it, but he reverted to his old ways. Back to before they met you. 

Upon arriving at The Hard Deck you exchange a round of pleasantries with the rest of your friends who were glad to see you finally out of, as Mickey had called it, your “Bat Cave.” You volunteered to grab some drinks for the rest of the party while they settled in your usual booth in the back. 

You returned to the table with beers for the guys, a club soda for Bob, a Mai Tai for Nat, and a lemonade for yourself. The night was spent full of laughter and warmth as you found yourself slipping back into your natural groove of things. Soon, your once dampened mood started to dissipate. 

“I’m telling you, there’s something going on with Professor Mitchell and Penny,” Mickey slurs. 

The group erupts into chaos then, one talking over the other and you can’t help but laugh as you lean into Mickey’s side. You missed this. You were so hard headed that in the process of blocking one person out, you put it upon everyone else. But you were here now and he wasn’t. That’s all that mattered to you. 

Reuben is the one to calm the group down. “Alright, alright. You’re saying, P. Mitchell and Penny are… romantically involved. Where the hell did you get that idea?” 

“DnD club meets here on Tuesdays and coincidentally so does Professor Mitchell,” he shrugs. 

“Did you say DnD club?” Javy’s wheezing between breaths and Natasha has to slap him on the chest to get him to stop. 

Mickey rolls his eyes. “I have a life outside of you guys, you know.” 

“Yeah, but DnD club?” 

“What’s wrong with DnD?” Bob chimes in, slightly offended. 

Nat slaps him again. “Javy!”

“Right, sorry. Please, continue.” 

“Actually, I don’t think I want to,” Mickey narrows his eyes at the man. 

“Mick, he was joking. Please finish what you were saying.” You tap him affectionately on the shoulder with a gentle smile. 

He attempts to continue his story when a smack to the tabletop catches all of you off guard. You tear your gaze from Mickey to be met with Bradley Bradshaw clad in one of his signature Hawaiian shirts as he leans against the table. 

You give him a pained smile, knowing that where Bradley went, Jake wasn’t far behind. 

“Good to see ya, Ace,” Bradley nods. 

“You too, Brad,” you tell him softly. And you meant it. 

The group falls uncharacteristically quiet and you feel Natasha give your knee tight squeeze. 

“Didn’t know the gang was getting back together.” The familiar snark of the one person you didn’t want to see rings through your ears. Jake Seresin struts over with that stupidly cocky grin of his and unsurprisingly, another sorority girl on his arm. 

No longer caring for pleasantries with the man, you roll your eyes. You hate to admit that it stung to see him with yet another woman. A small part of you hoped that maybe he’d show up empty handed and acknowledge your presence. That didn’t happen and it felt like a knife to the chest. What did you expect? Of course, nothing has changed since the last time you saw him. While you were feeling worse than ever about yourself, Jake had absolutely zero cares in the world. He only cared about himself, he always would. 

Javy was the only one who had the stomach to greet him with a simple, “Hey.” 

He chuckles, almost mockingly, as the girl on his arm tries to gain his attention and pull him to the bar. “Why weren’t we invited to the party?” 

“Because no one wants you here, Bagman,” Natasha spits. 

Jake brings a hand to his chest, acting hurt at her insinuation. “You wound me, Natasha.” 

She gives him the finger in response. 

“Now does everyone not want me here? Or is there a certain someone who doesn’t want me here?” He raises a brow and his bright green eyes land on you. 

You avoid his gaze and you hear Bradley hiss Jake’s name. 

“What? I’m just saying. It’s pretty obvious someone didn’t want me here and we all know who.” Jake doesn’t care that the girl who had been hanging off of him moments ago found someone else to play with, abandoning her post to flirt with another guy over at the pool tables. He had your attention and to him that was enough. 

You feel a familiar sting behind your eyes, knowing damn well he was just toying with you at this point. 

“Stop.” This time it’s Javy who speaks up, surprising Jake. “If you only came over here to be a dick then I suggest you leave.” 

The light mood from earlier has completely died and you know that once he leaves, nothing can bring it back. 

“Ace.” 

He calls you out directly this time and you can’t hold it in any longer. All the hurt and anger he caused bubbles up to the surface. Part of you wants to talk to him, clear the air up a bit and give him a chance to apologize. The other part of you, the more rational part, decides to ignore him entirely. 

You quietly ask Natasha if you could pass and her and Javy get up to stand to the side to let you through. You purposely angle your body so your back is towards Jake, announcing that you were going to get another drink before heading in the direction of the bar. 

Jake moves to follow you, only to be stopped by his best friend. 

Javy grabs his wrist with a disapproving frown. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“Let go, Javy,” he absent mindedly demands. His eyes never leave your figure as you make your way through the crowd. 

“No. You’re being an asshole, man. What happened to the guy who was repeatedly texting me to make sure she was okay? I told you where we were because I thought you were going to apologize. Not do… whatever that was.” Disappointment shines in Javy’s deep brown eyes. 

Bradley slides into the space where you once were, watching what was about to unfold with the rest of them. 

“Wait a minute, you told him we were going here? Javy!” Natasha looks at her boyfriend in disbelief. 

“I’m sorry! This idiot told me he wanted to make it up to her.” He gestures blindly to Jake who was running a hand through his already disheveled hair. 

Natasha snorts. “Unbelievable,” she swears under her breath. 

“Nat–” Jake starts, but she cuts him off in an instant. 

“No. You stay away from her, got it? She’s had enough of your games, Seresin, and quite frankly so have I.” 

“I messed up. I know I did. But please, please just give me a chance to explain.”

He takes Natasha’s silence as an unspoken truce. “I care about her. So much that it scares the shit out of me. I was gonna tell her, you know. Then I saw her with Bob and I realized that she could do so much better than me. So I did what I do best. I pushed her away.” 

Bob flushes red at the mention of his name. 

“What is there to say about myself other than that I’m your typical, college fuckboy? The thing is, I was fine with that reputation. I was good at doing things on my own. Then I met Ace and I realized she’s my antidote. That girl gave me tunnel vision. Suddenly, I’m looking at my future and I want to do more with my life than be known as a college heartbreaker. The one thing I know to be true is that I want to be better with her by my side.”

“Why should I believe you after the way you treated her?” Natasha’s gaze narrows, still not fully convinced. 

He swallows harshly. “You have every right not to. I wouldn’t believe me either. But you’ve got to understand that I never realized just how much she really meant to me until I almost lost her.” There’s a look of defeat that crosses his features, and his head falls to his chest. 

Nat’s hardened stare falters ever so slightly. “To Billy. But wait, I don’t understand. What about that girl you came in here with?” 

“Oh, she’s here for free booze. I needed to get Ace’s attention somehow.” 

She rolls her eyes. “You’re an idiot.” 

Jake nods, regret shining in his eyes. “I know. Listen, I’m not good at relationships.” 

“Trust me, we know,” Bradley mutters under his breath. 

Jake shoots him a quick glare before continuing. “I don’t know how to do them. For Ace, I’ll learn. I would do anything for her. Look, I know I’ve made mistakes and I need to fix them before it’s too late.” 

Natasha was conflicted. She looks at Javy who meets her gaze with a soft smile. Then to Reuben and Bradley. Finally, her eyes land once more on Jake. She found herself in the same dilemma she was in before she started dating Javy. Their reputation precedes them. You were the one to warn her of Delta Chi’s womanizer ways. Yet she still gave Javy a chance and it was the best decision she ever made. She knew deep down that these guys had good hearts. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, she knew Jake did too. He was kinder with you, softer. You always brushed him off but Nat saw the way he affected you. He made you happy and you deserved to be. If she could give Javy that chance, shouldn’t she extend it to Jake too?

She groans with her head in her hands. “Fine. Fine.” 

Jake’s eyes light up, clearly expecting another rejection. “Really?”

“Yes. But I swear if you hurt her again, if you break her heart, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” 

His stomach churns at the thought, knowing full well that she meant it. “Yes, ma’am,” he salutes. 

“Now go get her before it’s too late.” In other words, Natasha had finally given him her blessing. 

Jake’s dejected state is replaced with one of determination. He mouths an appreciative thank you, before setting his sights on you. 

“Forget DnD club, I need to hang out with you guys more often because that was better than a Netflix drama,” Mickey babbles, making Bob smack him lightly on the back of his head. 

With her arms crossed, Natasha stares out the window wistfully. “I just hope he can make things right.” 

Wrapping his arms around Nat, Javy gives her a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, he’s got this.” 

_________

“Hey Pen, can you just tell Natasha to ride home with the boys? I think I’m going to head out.” You place a wad of cash on the bar top, signaling for her to close your tab. 

The woman frowns, noticing the bothersome frown on your face. “You sure, sweetheart?” 

Downing the last of your lemonade, you nod. “Thank you, for the advice and everything.” 

“Of course. Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself, okay?” 

A tight smile pulls at your lips in farewell. You push your way through the rowdy crowd, breathing deeply once you make it outside. 

You curse under your breath. You didn’t know it was supposed to rain tonight. You eye your car in the distance, deciding whether to make the trek or go back inside until it stops. The sound of the door opening behind you catches your attention and your heart leaps out of your chest. 

“Ace,” Jake Seresin calls out, desperately trying to reach you. 

You throw all caution to the wind and run out into the pouring rain, too exhausted to deal with him right now. 

His shoes squeak and splash through the puddles on the asphalt. Not caring that he was soaked to the bone, he runs after you. Jake calls out for you again but you continue on. For once, he doesn’t find himself admiring your stubborn attitude. 

You throw a quick glance behind you, hoping to see that you’ve lost him, but Jake’s strides are longer than yours and he has closed more of the distance between you two than you thought. A shiver racks your form and your clothes are sticking uncomfortably to your skin. You find yourself regretting your decision but there’s no way you can take it back now. You shove your hand into your pocket, frantically pulling out your car keys once you make it to your car. 

Jake sees you shiver as you try to unlock your car. You just barely get the driver’s side to open when he comes up behind you and presses the door shut. Your back is to his front and he pleads for you to turn around. 

You hear him before you see him. You don’t want to turn around. You can’t. You know the second you look into his opalescent green eyes, your resolve will shatter. “Get off, Jake,” you demand impatiently. 

“Please look at me, please.” The desperation of his voice startles you. Never, have you heard Jake Seresin say the word ‘please,’ and never have you heard him beg. 

You’re shaking as you wrap your arms around yourself for warmth. You bite into your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. From the rain or from the tears that have started streaming down your cheeks, you are unsure. 

“Ace,” he breathes. 

His breath is hot against the skin of your neck soothing you from the cold. But still, you don’t budge. 

Jake finds himself getting frustrated and he runs his hand through his damp hair, moving it away from his eyes. He can barely see your reflection in your car window, his vision blurred from the raindrops that cloud his vision. But the pale moonlight and dim streetlamp shows him enough to see that you feel just as hurt as he does, if not more. “Fine. You don’t have to look at me. I just need you to listen.” 

You say nothing. 

He exhales through his mouth as he recalls what he wants to say. “Remember when we first met and you asked me if I actually had a brain or if I just thought with my dick? That was the moment I knew you were unlike anyone else I’ve ever met. Usually, I’d have girls swooning over me left and right, but not you. You weren’t fazed by me in the slightest and that intrigued me. Everything about you intrigues me. Which is why I was so eager to get more out of you. I poked fun. I made jokes. I made sure that your attention was almost always on me because when it was, it gave me the best view of each and every thing you had to offer. Like the way you bite your bottom lip when you’re trying not to cry.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat from his words, heart going faster than that goddamn roadrunner. 

“Come on, Ace.” 

How could you deny him when he spoke with so much conviction? You spin on your heel to face him. He’s soaked, just as you are, and yet you think he has never looked so beautiful. As you look at him, the ache in your chest doesn’t subside and you sniffle from the cold. “What do you want, Seresin?” 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. 

You look away from him. “I don’t need your pity.” 

“Hey, I’m serious. I know I hurt you and I will never forgive myself for it.” 

There’s a sincerity in his tone that throws you off. “Then why? If you feel so bad about it, why did you do it?” 

“Because… Because I…” He’s nervous. Of all the times he has ever spoken to you, this is the one time he has felt this way. 

Your patience is wearing thin so you shake your head and run a hand down your face. You were so tired of him holding out on you. “You know what? All I ever wanted was for you to look at me the same way you look at those other girls. Why wasn’t I good enough for you?” Once the floodgates opened, it was hard to get them locked up again. 

You might as well have ripped his heart out of his chest instead of saying that. The effect it had on him would’ve been all the same. “Oh, baby,” he cups your face gently between his calloused hands and strokes his thumbs across the apples of your cheeks. The rain made it hard for him to tell which marks were tears and which were rainwater, but he treated them all the same. “Those girls have nothing on my Ace. You are more than enough. You are everything and I was too blind to see it until now.” 

“What?” You whimper. 

God, does he want to kiss that pout right off your face. “I don’t look at you the way I look at everyone else because I don’t want them the way I want you.” 

“And how is that, Jake?” 

That alone gives him a glimmer of hope. His heart skips a beat and his stomach erupts in butterflies.“You called me Jake,” he grins. “You never call me Jake.” 

You scoff, not realizing the name slipped. “Answer the question.” 

“I want every part of you. I want late nights and study sessions. I want to be the first one you call and the last one you text goodnight. The good, the bad, all of it. As long as it’s you.” 

The honesty in his gaze makes you want to believe him. Because that’s all you ever wanted from him. So bad. But he has hurt you one too many times. You don’t think you’d be able to take it if he did one more time. “How do I know you won’t hurt me again?” 

Jake takes the leap, resting his forehead on yours. When you don’t pull away, he confesses, “You don’t. But I will spend every day proving to you that I’m never going to make that mistake again.” He brushes some of your damp hair away from your face and admires how ethereal you look in this light. “One date, Ace. Let me make it up to you.” 

You relish in his warmth, the aching hurt in your chest finally subsiding. The raging storm in your heart is finally calm. “One date. That’s all you’re getting.” 

The smile that spreads across his face is the brightest you’ve ever seen. He no longer feels lost now that he has you. “That’s all I need, darling.” 

For once, you believe him. 

add yourself to my taglist!

tgm taglist (does not include ‘seasons’ tags): @joaquinwhorres @harrycherrylove @smoothdogsgirl

a/n: this was supposed to be short, yet here we are. i hope you enjoy frat!jake as much as i do <3 as usual, huge thanks to @briseisgone love u hun.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Turn It Up When You're Gone (2/2)

The conclusion... Or is it? Posting these has got my thots going again, so I may need to write another installment. UPDATE: I did it. Also, this chapter has one of my favorite lines I've ever written. Guess which one?

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Sev x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2.4k

Summary: Delta Squad is back on board your Star Destroyer, and Sev is determined to make up for lost time. Reader is about to learn that commandos do it better.

Warnings: SMUT; voice kink, praise kink, body worship, facef*cking (but not like you expect)

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Delta squad is back on the Guarlara two days later. You know this because they stroll casually into the mess while you’re eating breakfast. You almost stab yourself in the face with your fork when the one with the blood-red paint turns and looks right at you. Your eyes widen, and you can feel the heat rush to your cheeks.

“Girl, you good?” Jeelee asks, noticing your agitation.

“Yeah, I just—uh, I realized I need to—I forgot, um—” you stammer.

You can practically see Sev’s smirk behind his helmet. 

Cocky bastard.

“I need to stop by the, uh, med bay before my shift starts,” you finish lamely.

“Are you all right?” Drinna asks, concern evident in their wide eyes.

“Yeah,” you say. “Just, uh, lady problems.”

“What kind of lady problems?” Draa asks, confused.

Jeelee and Drinna send pitying glances at the clone trooper. 

“Sorry, was that too nosy?” the clone asks with a sheepish expression. “I just don’t have much experience, is all.”

“That’s okay, Draa,” you reassure him. “You should ask the medic to explain it.”

You excuse yourself and make a beeline out of the mess. You’ve listened to Sev’s recording more times than you care to admit, and you aren’t quite prepared to face him in front of an audience of dozens of clones—not to mention the coworkers who already know about your crush.

When you reach your workstation, your message indicator light is blinking.

“Tactical, this RC-1207. Any trouble with those feeds?”

You record a response. “No trouble, 1207. Everything came through loud and clear. If you want to run another diagnostic, be sure to do it after 2100 hours when the feeds update.”

There. That ought to do it. Subtle enough not to raise any eyebrows if anyone overhears, and obvious enough for him to figure it out.

---

When you return to your quarters promptly at 2100 hours, Sev is already waiting for you, helmet and gloves removed and resting on the floor. He stands up from his seat on the edge of your bunk as the door slides open to admit you. You step inside quickly and close the door.

“Hi,” you say. You sound nervous, even to yourself.

“Hi,” he replies.

You’ve had all day to think about this. For hours, your mind has tormented you with erotic fantasies, heating your skin and leaving you drenched and slippery. You have imagined Sev’s large hands touching you everywhere, his talented mouth drifting over your body as he tells you all the filthy, delicious things he wants to do to you, the fullness of his cock as he stretches you out.

But now that he’s here, in the flesh, in your space, you feel awkward. He’s a big man, even bigger in his armor, and the small room feels crowded with both of you inside. You aren’t sure what to say, or what to do with your hands. They’ve taken on a mind of their own, fluttering in front of you, fidgeting with your cuffs, and finally wrapping around your waist in a self-soothing embrace. Sev also seems unsure what to do, and it occurs to you that you’ve invited a total stranger into your bunk. 

“I’m Sev,” he says.

“I know,” you nod. “I heard on the feeds.”

“Should I just call you ‘tactical’?” he asks. “I want to make sure I’m yelling the right name all night.”

You laugh and tell him your name.

“Can I touch you?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” you whisper.

You expect him to go straight for the goods, so it’s a surprise when he takes your hand and draws it away from your body. He strokes his thumb across your skin, across your fingers, across your wrist.

“I knew you’d be soft. Even softer than I imagined,” he says with satisfaction. He presses his fingers to the pulse point on your wrist. “Your heart is racing, little one. Are you sure you want this?”

“I’m sure,” you say. You raise your free hand to trace the lines of his face, and he leans into the contact, closing his eyes. You wonder if he’s ever felt a gentle touch before. You brush your fingers over his skin. Intellectually, you have always known what he would look like, but now you take in all the small details that make him unique from his fellow clones. The scars, the faint lines around his eyes, the slightly longer-than-regulation hair, the prickly scruff of a beard that hasn’t been shaved in three cycles. Deep circles under his eyes betray his exhaustion, and you feel a momentary twinge of guilt at keeping him awake after a mission.

“Do—do you?” you ask. 

His mouth twists in a half smile. “It’s all I’ve thought about for the last three rotations. I want this.”

He presses his lips to your palm, and then he reaches for you, pulling you into his strong arms, capturing your mouth in a kiss. His duraplast armor is hard and cool against you, and you scramble for purchase against it. 

“You taste amazing,” he says against your lips. His tongue brushes against you, and you part your lips to let him in.

Oh, damn, he’s good. He kisses you with an intense, single-minded focus, as though you—your mouth, your lips, your tongue, your pleasure—are the only thing in the galaxy. There’s no awkward, over-enthusiastic tongue thrusting; just slow, skillful movement that pulls you in and steals your breath. His kiss leaves you lightheaded and unsteady, and you’re grateful for the way he cradles your body in his arms, keeping you from melting into a quivering heap at his feet.

“Kriff me, did they teach you to kiss like that in commando school?” you breathe.

“Yeah, we learned it after hostage extraction and before demolitions,” he says, deadpan.

You laugh again, and he looks very pleased with himself.

“They also taught us how to take off our armor in under a minute,” he says. “Want to see a demonstration?”

“Will you do a sexy dance while you show me?” you ask.

“That might slow me down,” he replies.

“In that case, skip the dance,” you say. “What’s your personal best time?”

“Thirty-nine seconds. I was motivated,” he says.

“And are you motivated now?” you ask.

“Time me and find out,” he suggests.

“I’d rather enjoy the show,” you say.

“Don’t blink,” he says with a smirk.

He strips off his armor. He works efficiently, and you watch with interest. You’ve never seen a clone go through the process before. He starts with his vambraces, works his way up his arms, then removes the cuirass and proceeds down his torso and legs. Each piece is stacked neatly as he removes it, and you suspect the habit is so ingrained in him that he couldn’t leave the duraplast in a messy pile if he tried.

“I think I shaved a couple seconds off my best time,” he says once he’s stripped down to his body glove.

You remember the way he tallies his kills on each mission.

“You’re very competitive, aren’t you?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “How many times did you make yourself come to that recording?”

Your skin heats, and you aren't sure if you're embarrassed, aroused, or both. “Why do you want to know?”

“Professional curiosity. Also, I want to know how many to aim for tonight.”

“Uh, six,” you confess.

“That’s only two per day,” he says. “I’ll have to do better with my next recording.”

“It was actually three the first night and only one on the second. I was tired,” you explain, a little defensively.

“I hope you’re rested up,” he says, tugging you into another searing kiss.

You slide your hands up his back, feeling the hard muscles shift beneath the black fabric of his body glove. The man is massive, built like a tank, and if the bulge you feel pressing against your belly is what you think it is, he is proportionate all the way down. You grind your pelvis against him experimentally, and in response, he crowds you against the wall, growling into your mouth. 

Actually growling. Maker save you.

His hands settle on your hips as he pulls you against him. Yep, definitely proportionate, you think.

His kisses are hot and frantic now, and his hands roam possessively over your body. He moves his mouth along your jaw, down your neck, next to your ear. His warm breath whispers across your skin, leaving a thrill of arousal in its wake.

“Do you know how hard it is to stay focused on the mission when all I can think about is you, fucking yourself to my voice?”

“Tell me,” you gasp, needing to hear those obscene words from him.

“Almost got nailed by a vulture droid ‘cause I was thinking about these tits.” He slides his hand up the rough wool of your uniform to palm your breast. “Oh, kark, that’s good. So fuckin’ good. Let me see you.”

You start to unzip your uniform jacket, but Sev is impatient. He yanks the zipper down and shoves the jacket off your arms.

“How many kriffing layers are you wearing?” he demands.

“Only three more,” you laugh. “Let me help.”

You unbutton and remove your uniform blouse, then slip your undershirt off over your head and unclasp your bra as Sev unzips your trousers and tugs them down.

“Finally,” he says when you are fully bare. “Stars, look at you. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He trails his hands reverently across your skin. His fingertips are rough and calloused, but they touch you with an aching tenderness that leaves you breathless. He drops to his knees, bringing his head level with your chest, and draws you to his mouth. The sensation is overwhelming. His busy hands touch you everywhere: fondling your breasts, sliding up the inside of your thigh to squeeze your ass, brushing across your clitoris to feel the dampness gathering there.

“Sev,” you breathe as he sucks your nipple into his mouth. His lips tug insistently as his tongue swirls over you again and again, and your body thrums in response.

“Fucking perfect tits,” he mumbles against you. “Even better than I thought. So soft. You look so good in my hands.”

You look down to see his large, brown hand on your breast, your flesh spilling out between his fingers as he squeezes you gently.

“You can be rougher with me,” you whisper, “if you want.”

His dark eyes snap to yours, and he pinches your nipple experimentally. Pleasure shoots through you, and you gasp, your head dropping backward to lean against the cold durasteel walls.

“Like this?” he asks, sucking your nipple into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth.

“Yes!” you hiss. “Harder!”

He groans and does as you order, finally giving you the intense stimulation you crave.

“Oh fuck, yes, just like that, don’t stop, keep going,” you chant.

His clever mouth is doing unspeakable things to you. Kissing, sucking, biting, teasing, worshiping. You are stunned to feel your orgasm building, and you wonder if it is possible for you to come like this. The tension draws tighter and tighter, but you need more. 

Sev releases your breast and kisses down your belly. He pauses when he reaches your hip, working over you with excruciating thoroughness. 

“Kark, I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks,” he says, his voice even deeper than usual. “I wanted you the first time I saw you.” He presses a hard, open-mouth kiss onto your hip bone, and his tongue flicks across your skin. “Jerked my cock to you every time I took a shower. I made myself come so many times imagining this beautiful little cunt.” 

He is still playing with your breast with one hand, squeezing and pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. His other hand grasps your ass roughly, digging his fingers into your flesh. His kisses are brutal, hovering on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain, leaving a stinging trail as he makes his way slowly—so agonizingly slowly—across your pelvis.

And gods, it’s so much. It’s too much, and you can’t stand it any more. You grab his head and shove him against your pussy, and his tongue flicks out to slide between your labia and swirl over your clitoris, and fuck that’s it right there just like that—fuck! Your orgasm takes you by surprise, slamming into you, wrenching his name from your throat in a ragged cry. Your hips buck against Sev’s face, and you would feel bad for using him like this, but he’s grunting with pleasure, and his mouth is on you and his tongue is inside you, and he’s grabbing your ass to pull you even harder against him as you fuck his face, and then your legs give out, and he catches you, supporting your weight with his strong arms as he sucks your clit into his mouth until he wrings out the last tremors of your orgasm, and then he eases you down the durasteel wall to rest on his thighs.

Your lungs heave for oxygen, and your forehead drops to rest on his shoulder. He’s still wearing his body glove, and the fabric is soft against your face. He wraps his arms around you, stroking the back of your head as he whispers the sweetest words in your ear: so good for me, so beautiful, taste so sweet, so pretty when you come, love to watch you lose control, so fucking sexy.

You roll your head to face him, burying yourself against his neck. He smells like salt and skin and battlefield smoke and bacta, and your tongue darts out to taste him, drawing a rumble of pleasure from his chest.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask.

He lets out a single, short laugh. “No, babygirl. You could fuck me into the ground, and I’d thank you for giving me a warrior’s death.”

You can feel his erection pressing against you, and you slide your hand down his body to stroke his length through the thin fabric of his body glove.

“In that case, I should probably take care of this,” you murmur. “Can’t fuck all night if we don’t start early.”

---

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Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul

[mutilatemyheart]

Summary: Sev wakes you up in the middle of the night to let you know Fixer has been seriously injured. If you're going to tell him how you feel, this is the time. Warnings: Injured character. Mentions of surgery. Hospital type setting. Nothing graphic - bandages and bruises. Some cursing. Pairing: Fixer x fem!reader Word Count: 1023 A/N: the second part was seriously supposed to be the reader going to 79's with Delta Squad and flirtation with Fixer. I don't know what possessed me and wrote this. Sorry not sorry. Part 1 Part 3

Loud knocking on your door jolts you from your sleep. Your heart beats like timpani drums in your chest as you reach for the lamp on the bedside table. The person on the other side of the door knocks again. It’s hard and impatient. Have you overslept? Are you late for your shift? You look to the chrono, but it’s barely past three in the morning.

Your bare feet hit the cold floor as you dash toward the controls to open the door. A fist is eye level with you, ready to knock again. The gloved hand lowers, and you look up into the bloodshot eyes of Sev. He looks dead on his feet, but the worry etched onto his face scares you more than anything.

“I hope you planned out what you’re going to say to him because this may be your only chance.”

“What’s going on?” You ask, quickly putting on a pair of boots and stepping out into the hallway. “What happened?”

Sev shakes his head. “They always give us the shit jobs, and … Fixer was hit hard. We were able to get him stable enough for transport, but he needs a bacta tank, and Gilamar said he needs surgery. They’re prepping for it now.”

He doesn’t stop to breathe as the words spill from his mouth. His pace is brutally fast, but you don’t dare ask him to slow down as you jog alongside him to the medbay. You played several scenarios out in your head while they were away about what you would say to him, but all the lines you rehearsed disappear one by one from your brain. Only one thought repeats in your mind. “He’s going to be okay. He’s going to be okay.” He has to be okay.

The medbay doors slide open to reveal Boss and Scorch hovering over a hospital bed that you know Fixer has to be in. You’re almost thankful they’re blocking your view as you prepare to see him. Scorch grabs you in a hug as soon as you approach. He squeezes you hard, and the Katarn armor is almost painful against your chest, but you hug him back just as tightly.

“He’s in and out of consciousness,” Boss tells you. The fear on all their faces makes your stomach churn. “But Doc Gilamar says he may still be able to hear us. We’ll give you a minute.”

Sev steps up closer to his injured brother. “We’ll be just on the other side of the room. We won’t leave you, vod.”

The three of them walk away and huddle together near the doors, but you still feel their eyes on you. Releasing a deep breath, you look fully to Fixer. Bandages cover part of his chest, shoulder, and arm. A bacta patch is on his left jaw, and dark bruising covers his cheek. He’s not supposed to look like this. He’s not supposed to be bloody and bruised and broken in a hospital bed.

You gently run your fingers along his hand and lean in close to him.

“You’re going to be okay,” you tell him. You try your best to sound reassuring, but the cracking of your voice betrays you. “You’re going to pull through this, and then we’re going to celebrate your recovery. Just us. We’ll do whatever you want to do. I…”

You swallow down the lump in your throat, and squeeze his hand gently. His eyes remain closed, but you continue anyway.

“I should have told you before how much I like spending time with you. How happy it makes me when you’re around. I should have told you that you’re my favorite person, and that I really love you. I’m so sorry it took you getting hurt for me to be brave enough to tell you.”

You pull away from him as footsteps approach. You blink away the tears threatening to spill past your eyelids and turn to face the other Deltas. It’s not one of your friends approaching, though. The man looking at you oddly isn’t a clone, but you recognize him from your time living here. Mij Gilamar is out of the gold Mandalorian armor that you’ve always seen him in and geared up for surgery. You’re suddenly very aware how strange you must look standing here in the clothes you slept in and a pair of boots.

“Who are you?” Gilamar asks.

“She's with us,” Boss says, walking up behind the man.

Gilamar’s eyes dart from Boss, to Fixer, and back to your teary-eyed face.

“I see.” His voice is much softer, and he looks at you like he’s just figured out a puzzle. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We can fix, Fixer. I’ll take good care of him.”

You nod, but the burning in your throat keeps you silent.

“You all need to get some sleep. You can’t do anything for Fixer if you’re in a bed next to him due to exhaustion,” Gilamar address the other Deltas. “You don’t have to go far, but I do expect you all to rest while we’re operating. You can choose beds here, and I’ll wake you when he’s in recovery.”

 You watch with the others as they take Fixer away for surgery.

“I can walk you back to your room,” Scorch says, his eyes still on the closed door they took his brother through. His voice contradicts his words. You know he doesn’t want to leave for even a moment.

You shake your head. “No, I want to stay with you guys.”

“That’s probably not the best idea,” Boss tells you. “If anyone catches you here, it won’t look good. They don’t like you civvies getting too friendly with us.”

“Yeah, they’re afraid we may start thinking like normal people instead of how they programmed us,” Scorch grimaces. “Don’t worry. As soon as we know anything, we’ll let you know.”

Reluctantly, you agree to go back to your room. The hallways are quiet, and your pace is much slower than when you ran here with Sev. You walk alone and let the tears fall freely. He’s going to be okay.

He has to be okay.

[clonewarslover55]

Sev’s first time being pegged //NSFW//

Sev X Fem!Reader 

I’m planning on writing all of the Delta’s first times being pegged!! So stay tuned!

Notes: My friend @kyzyner and I had a wonderful idea!! They drew this since I wrote it!! Seeing Sev getting dominated gave me some wonderful inspiration lol. Here’s the sexy art they drew, I based the fic off of this pose. 

Warnings: anal fingering, eating out Sev’s ass, slightly submissive Sev, slightly dominate reader, first time at getting pegged, pegging, Sev being stubborn, some fluffy aftercare, Sev growls like a wild animal btw, this is long like Sev’s cock, reblog or I’ll cry, 

Sev had just gotten home from a long mission, and he was currently in the shower. You decided to surprise him, so you two could shower together. You were more than surprised when you opened the curtain. 

Sev had his forehead resting against the shower wall, one hand wrapped tight around his cock and the other knuckle deep in his tight hole. The sight made your cunt clench tightly, wetness coating your folds quickly. 

“Need some help big guy?” You spoke, your voice sensual. Sev looked at you, too focused on pleasure to be embarrassed. He let go of his cock to steady himself under the shower spray, “Yes.” He whispered, a predatory look in his dark eyes. 

You stepped in behind him, your cunt fluttering at the sight of him removing two fingers from his hole. Sev steadied himself on the wall with both hands now. You grabbed the bottle of lube, quickly spreading some on your fingers. 

Sev gasped when you pushed a finger in, his walls tight. “Why didn’t you tell me you were into this?” You nearly purred, pressing hot open mouthed kisses along his scarred shoulders. It was rare for Sev to be so submissive, but he was clearly too tired and horny to care who was in charge. 

“I-I” He couldn’t even get the words out, your finger thrusting into him slowly. You added another, Sev taking you perfectly. He had clearly fucked himself a few times in the past. He moaned loudly, his jaw clenched. You hummed a bit at his moans, your tongue tracing a scar on his right shoulder.

He never liked being vocal, but clearly with anal he was in too much pleasure to care. Sev moved a hand to his cock again, pumping it in time with your fingers. “Fuck.” He muttered as you scissored your fingers. 

“You like this a lot, don’t you baby?” You leaned forward, licking the shell of his ear. Sev sneered a little, letting out a breathy growl. “Yes.” You smirked, “After I stretch your ass good and tight why don’t we try some pegging?” Sev clenched around your fingers, he obviously liked that idea. 

You smirked and went back to marking up his shoulders. He had to move his hands away from his cock so he could balance on the wall with both hands. His thighs were very shaky, so he needed the extra balance. You leaned forward and turned off the shower, Sev not questioning it. 

You picked up the pace with your fingers, dipping your head so you could kiss lower on his back. Suddenly you got an idea. How would Sev react to being eaten out? You smirked to yourself as you kneeled. 

“What are you doing?” He questioned, his voice cracking slightly. “You’ll see. Just relax.” Sev had eaten you out multiple times, so he should connect the dots pretty soon. 

A beautiful whimper you had never heard from him ripped from his throat when you removed your fingers. You ran your hands along his hip bones to his perfect ass, spreading his cheeks a little. Sev shivered at your touch, his hole fluttering. 

Sev cussed in about four different languages when you ran your tongue along his hole. You smirked, your tongue tracing him slowly. Sev made fists against the wall, his breathing aggressive. 

You couldn’t see the look on his handsome face, but his breathing and noises said enough. He had clearly never been eaten out before, flinching every now and then from pure surprise. You rested your hands on his muscular ass, squeezing it as your mouth worked. 

Sev panted out your name, his head resting against the cool shower wall. His hole clenched around your tongue as he came hard, his legs shaking. You steadied him, small curse words leaving his lips. You stood up and hugged him from behind, reaching around to turn the shower back on. 

Sev turned around, pulling you into a fierce kiss. Both of you knew this night would be long and very eventful. 

~More fucking and some time later~

Now you were both on the bed, Sev below you on his back, his legs spread wide. You sat between his legs, mesmerized by how hot Sev looked like this. There was a pleased smirk on his face, his tongue licking his teeth like a predator.

He was all spread out, his body twitchy and his hair still wet. His muscular thighs twitched along with his strong stomach muscles. He was obviously sensitive and still worked up, his cock hard. The scars that littered his muscular body made you nearly drool. Later you’d have to trace them all with your tongue. 

You stroked some scars on his thighs, “Sev baby you need to relax.” You whisper in a sensual voice. He was stretched out nicely from the shower, but he’d have to relax more to take the strap you owned. It wasn’t as big as his cock, so it wasn’t huge. He could take it. 

If he relaxed, that is. 

He sneered a little. He did not like being the submissive one. You put on the strap, Sev watching you. “Bright pink?” He cocked an eyebrow, his voice breathy. “Oh hush. If you like this i’ll buy you a red one to match your armor.” Sev smirked, leaning up some so you could press a kiss to his lips. 

You pushed him back down after the kiss, your heart rate picking up a lot as well. Once you rubbed lube onto the toy you spread his thighs some more, one hand settling on his hip. You used the other to guide the head of the toy into him. 

“Relax big guy.” You mumbled, slowly pushing in. Sev bared his teeth, the stretch burning a little. He snarled, the toy not even halfway in. “I’ll touch your big cock once you take all of this.” Sev growled at you. He played the same teasing games with you. You could be just as cruel as him. 

It took a lot of cussing from him, but eventually he took all of it. You looked at the stretch, your cunt clenching. Fuck it was hot. You wrapped your free hand around his thick cock, pumping it slowly in time with your thrusts. 

Sev threw his head back, his thighs quaking. Sev opened his eyes that were squeezed shut, looking at you with that sexy predatory look again. You smirked, picking up the pace some. His jaw was clenched tightly, watching as you fucked into him. 

He had never looked hotter than he did right then, his arms behind his head. His left arm was supporting his head so he could watch you, his right gripping the bed sheets in a tight fist above his head. His muscles bulged as his body strained, his scars pulled taut along his dark skin. His cock was hard against his stomach, the head leaking some. His ass was stretched, taking the bright pink toy like a champ. You could nearly cum from the sight alone. 

You gripped his hip tighter so you could hit deeper into him. When you to first had sex it didn’t take Sev long to find that special spot deep inside of you. You wanted to do the same for him. You angled your hips a different way, watching his handsome face and sexy body for reactions. 

He nearly cried out at a certain angle, you had found it! You smirked at him, Sev still looking at you like a predator. He was going to teach you a lesson about not letting him be in charge later, the thought making you even wetter. 

You moved quicker, Sev’s cock twitching in your hand. He was approaching his peak rather quickly, still sensitive from earlier. “That’s it big guy.” You ran the pad of your thumb along his sensitive head, a loud moan ripping from his throat. 

A few more hard and deep thrusts brought him to his peak. He bit his fist to keep from crying out.  He coated his stomach and chest in his load, the sight making you shiver. You helped him ride out his orgasm, only stopping when he let out a soft whimper from overstimulation. 

You pulled out, removing the strap on from yourself. You went to get up but Sev stopped you with a hand on your arm. He sat up, blinking rapidly. He was clearly seeing stars from his amazing orgasm. 

“I’ll get the damp rag.” You snorted, “Sev honey, you need to lay down and relax. Your legs probably won’t work.” He shook his head, “No no….I’m fine.” You raised your eyebrows, watching the stubborn commando stand up.

He gripped the bed to support his shaking legs, “S-see?” You shook your head, letting him take the toy to the bathroom so you could clean it later. He walked slowly, his legs making him look like a newborn animal trying to walk. 

He came back a bit later, handing you the damp and warm towel. “Stubborn ass.” Sev only yawned in reply, collapsing onto the bed. He laid against the pillows, watching you shake your head smiling. 

You cleaned the cum off of him, his cock twitching when you cleaned it up. When you gently cleaned his hole he whined, flinching a little. “Easy...I got you, big guy.” You smiled, pressing a kiss to a scar on his stomach. 

“I’m going to get you back for this.” He mumbled drowsily. You tossed the rag off the bed and crawled up beside him. “And I can’t wait.” You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, Sev already half asleep. 

Tags: @leias-left-hair-bun @ollovaemisc @cherry-cokes-world @iamassbuttkingofhell @catsnkooks @mxndalorians @colorfulloverbatturkey @ahsokatano-thetogruta @peacefulwizardfox @jedi-mando @julyzaa @strangebroadwaykinks @feathersforclones @chr0nicbackpain @jedi-nila-rhyn @fyrepen33 @mistflyer1102 @kamino-mermaid @commanderrivercc-3628 @ct7567329 @thealluringsink

[thatanonymouschocolate]

Gears of War Masterlist

Fanfiction

Damon Baird

Not So Prince Charming - x Black Reader

ex-Civilian Black Reader x Damon Baird

Bonding with Baird - x Black Reader

Valentine’s Day fic - Damon Baird x Reader

Marcus Fenix

Silent Gestures - x Black Fem Reader 18+

Headcanons/Imagines

College AU

College Majors & Hobbies

DnD

Gears of War Fanart

College AU

College AU Delta Squad

Baird

Damon Baird Fanart