#me: maybe a few more datapads on the desk too

[kemendin]

I adore everything about this, thank you so much for bringing this scene idea to life!

Sometimes I wonder just how much paperwork Quinn has to file in relation to the sith warrior just doing what they do

The last but not least of my commissions, @kemendin's Khel Sutek hitting up Quinn with those rolled sleeves of his, thankyou so so much for commissioning me, I had a blast drawing these two (and the mountain of datapads)!

[sunsets-and-crows]

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 1

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 4.8K

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Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut (in later chapters). Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind maybe. Sylus being hot and a menace.

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

You’d woken up early- too early. Anticipation buzzed in your veins leaving your mind reeling and falling back asleep impossible. The entire team had felt it. Something big was in the works.

Captain Jenna had pulled you aside before you left work the night before. “Y/N, come and see me first thing tomorrow morning. I’ve got new mission details to discuss.” Her tone was commanding. This wasn’t a favour—it was an order, and orders like these, given late at night with no one around, usually meant trouble.

So you’d woken up early, made some breakfast, and finished your morning workout, all before the sun had even risen. You were absolutely going to regret this later when you were struggling to stay awake at your desk.

The dim glow of the tactical display flickered across the room, casting shadows along the walls. You sat across from Captain Jenna, her eyes sharp and assessing as usual, the weight of authority resting heavily on her shoulders. This wasn’t your first mission briefing, but something about this one felt different- heavier- more dangerous.

Jenna leaned back in her chair, a small datapad in her hand, swiping through it with deliberate motions. "The N109 zone," she began, not looking up.”What do you know about it?”

“Ermm, not much. I’ve heard rumours, of course and read about it but I’ve not had any first-hand experience,” You replied, confused by the line of questioning.

Jenna continued, "It’s a place where most don’t survive long, especially outsiders. You’ve been recommended for a mission there, but I need to know you understand what you’re walking into."

Your fingers twitched in your lap. "I’ve read the reports. I think I understand how it all works out there."

"Reports don’t do it justice." Her voice was clipped, leaving no room for debate. She tapped a button on the pad, and a holographic image of the N109 zone projected into the air between you. The image showed sprawling clusters of decrepit structures and seedy underground hubs. It looked almost abandoned but you knew from the reports that the N109 zone was far from empty. "The N109 zone is a black market for mercenaries, smugglers, and all types of criminals. At the centre of it all, is one man, controlling the whole thing. The N109 zone’s very own king, Sylus Qin."

Your stomach tightened at the mention of his name. Everyone in the association knew of Sylus, but few had seen him in person. His reputation preceded him: cold, ruthless, and always five steps ahead of his enemies. He’d been the reason for countless operations that turned south and why some hunters categorically refused to even enter the N109 zone.

Captain Jenna finally looked up from her pad, her gaze calculating. “The higher-ups have requested that you take on the mission to bring him to justice- finally. I personally recommended you for the job and my petition was accepted.”

Sylus, the most dangerous and infamous criminal in the N109 zone, known for being a manipulative and ruthless leader. And you were meant to capture him. The shock was clear on your face.

Jenna switched off the projection and fixed you with a steely gaze. "This is a high-stakes operation. The Hunter’s Association has been trying to bring Sylus in for years, but he’s too careful. He doesn’t make mistakes. He keeps his allies close and his enemies firmly in check. No one’s managed to get near him. We need you to do what others couldn’t- get close, make him trust you enough to come willingly." She pauses, letting the weight of her words settle. "And then, you will bring him to us. Quietly."

You blinked, the enormity of the task settling like a lead weight in your chest. "And then what? We arrest him?"

"Exactly. Once you have his trust, you’ll lead him to the extraction point, where other hunters will take over. Sylus has committed too many atrocities- smuggling, trafficking, assassinations. He needs to face justice. But if he even suspects for a second that you’re a threat, this mission will end in your death. Sylus doesn’t forgive betrayal."

A cold knot of apprehension twisted in your gut. "I’ve never operated in the N109 zone before. I know what people say about it…"

Jenna tapped the table, cutting through your uncertainty with her no-nonsense tone. "You were selected because of your history. You’re adaptable. You’ve been at the HA for a long time, and never failed in a covert mission and that’s been noticed. But understand this, this isn’t just about gathering intel, it’s about infiltrating his inner circle, making him believe he can trust you."

Her words hung heavy in the air, each one pressing against your already fraying nerves. "He’s known for reading people. How am I supposed to fool him?"

Jenna didn’t smile, but her eyes softened- just a touch. "You’ll have to earn his trust, slowly. Get into his good graces by being useful. You’ve got…skills he needs. Play into that. But be warned…" She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a quiet, ominous tone. "Sylus is like no one you’ve faced before. He’s calculated, ruthless. If you slip up, even for a second, he’ll see through you. Use your wits… and if needed, your feminine wile” She trailed off, the insinuation heavy in the air.

A chill ran down your spine. You’ve heard the stories—how Sylus has taken down entire syndicates without lifting a finger, how he can dismantle a person with just his words, let alone the brutal efficiency with which he handles his enemies. The thought of trying to seduce him was almost laughable—and terrifying.

"And the Association is sure this will work?" you asked, your voice a little thinner than you intended.

Jenna narrowed her gaze, her lips pressed into a hard line. "No. But it’s the best chance we’ve got. The truth is, Sylus is too dangerous to let his network grow any further. The higher-ups have made it clear—they’d prefer him alive. Alive and arrested. If you succeed, this will be the biggest takedown in recent history. You’d be rewarded of course.” Her implication is clear, the promotion you'd been after for years.

You nodded, though your mind swirled with doubt. "And if I fail?"

"You won’t." The steel in her voice was unyielding. "Failure isn’t an option. Sylus doesn’t give second chances, and neither do we. We’ll provide your equipment and, when the time is right, we have an alias waiting for you"

The silence that followed is suffocating, the gravity of the mission pressing down on you. For a moment, you questioned whether you were truly ready for this—whether anyone could be. But then the adrenaline kicked in, and stirred something inside you - a challenge.

"I understand." You managed to say, your voice firmer than before.

Jenna stood, motioning toward the door, her expression softening just a fraction. "Your mission begins tomorrow. Prepare yourself. You’ll be alone in the field, and once you’re in his world, there’s no turning back."

You rose from your chair, nerves and determination churning inside you. "I’ll bring him in."

Jenna’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before she nodded. "See that you do."

As you walked out of the room, your mind spun with the weight of the task ahead. Sylus wasn’t just a target; he was the most dangerous man you’d ever been assigned. And now, you were supposed to deceive him, to lead him into a trap- you couldn’t afford a single mistake.

The dim glow of neon lights and the low hum of music created a relaxed atmosphere in the small bar you and your colleagues gathered. It was a spot you’d claimed long ago after gruelling days of training or missions, a place for deepspace hunters to unwind.

Tara draped her arm around your shoulder, a drink in her hand, and a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. She pulled you in tight and whispered in your ear excitedly "Y/N, you’re going after Sylus freakin’ Qin! I still can’t believe it." she whispered his name even quieter, as if saying it too loudly would summon him or something.

You let out a laugh, though it felt a little forced. "I’m not even sure why they picked me for this." It was true- despite Jenna’s recommendation, there were many, more experienced, higher-level hunters that had been put forward. So, why you?

Tara gave you a playful shove. "Are you kidding? You're a total badass! If anyone can take on that zone and come out alive, it’s you." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Besides, I heard Sylus is ridiculously hot. I swear, if you get up close and personal, you better tell me everything."

Xavier flashed you a horrified glance as you rolled your eyes, feeling part of the tension start to loosen and another begin to build. "It’s not like that, Tara."

"Oh, but it could be!" She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a teasing whisper. "Dangerous, brooding, probably smells like gunpowder and leather…"

"Please." You cut her off, shaking your head, but the smile on your face grows a little wider and you allow yourself a slight giggle. Tara had always known how to make light of things, even dangerous missions. It’s one of the reasons you’ve been close for so long—she knew how to distract you when you started overthinking.

Xavier’s voice cut through the banter, calm but carrying a note of something unspoken. "Just… be careful." He sat across from you, nursing his drink, his eyes more focused on the table than the conversation. "The N109 zone isn’t like your other missions. You won’t have backup, and Sylus… he’s a different kind of threat."

You glanced at him, feeling the weight of his concern. Xavier had always been protective, but something about his tone made you shift uneasily in your seat. "I know. I’ll be fine. Captain Jenna wouldn’t have assigned me if she didn’t think I could handle it."

Tara leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes at Xavier. "Please, Xavier. She’s not a rookie. Y/N’s a big girl; she can take care of herself. Besides, she’s not going to let some psycho in a leather coat throw her off her game, no matter how hot he is."

You chuckled, but Xavier’s frown deepened. "I just don’t like the idea of you going in alone. I’d feel better if you had some sort of backup."

You sighed, stirring the drink in front of you. "It’s a solo mission, Xav. That’s part of the deal. I’m supposed to gain his trust, remember? How can I do that with you hovering around or Tara creaming herself at the mere sight of him?" You tried to lighten the mood, but Xavier’s expression didn’t change.

Tara piped up again, grinning mischievously. "Gaining his trust… that’s one way to put it." She started humming a tune under her breath, a playful glint in her eyes. "Mama, I’m in love with a criminal…"

You laughed, shaking your head as Tara continued, her voice light and teasing. The absurdity of the moment felt like a balm to your nerves, even if the reality of the mission loomed large.

But Xavier wasn’t amused. His gaze flicked from Tara back to you, softer now, tinged with something deeper than concern. "Just… don’t do anything reckless, okay?"

You met his eyes, the weight of his words hanging between you. He’d always been this way- cautious, protective, lingering on the edge of something he could never quite say. As much as you appreciated it, part of you bristled at the overprotectiveness.

"I won’t," you replied, keeping your tone light despite the pressure of his gaze on you.

Tara, blissfully unaware of the tension, clinked her glass against yours. "Cheers to Y/N! Bringing down the most wanted, sexy criminal in the galaxy- and living to tell the tale!"

You shook your head again, but this time, the laugh was genuine. "You’re impossible."

"Someone has to keep things fun around here," she quipped, leaning back in her chair with a wide grin.

The conversation shifted, drifting away from the seriousness of the mission, and for a while, you let yourself get swept up in the celebration. But even as laughter and banter filled the air, you couldn’t shake the undercurrent of doubt creeping back in. Why had Captain Jenna really picked you? You weren’t the most experienced hunter. Others had more field time in the N109 zone and more reason to be chosen.

You glanced over at Xavier again, once again, finding his eyes already fixed on you. There was something unsaid there, a worry that ran deeper than his words, it made you uncomfortable.

"I’ll be fine," you said again, quieter this time, almost like you were trying to convince yourself as much as him.

Xavier’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he raised his glass, his voice soft. "To your success. And your safety."

Tara beamed, still blissfully unaware of the weight in the air. "To Y/N! Who’s gonna take down the galaxy’s hottest criminal!"

Your first day in the N109 zone was, frankly, a disaster. The moment you crossed into the district, a wave of unease washed over you. The air felt different here- thicker, charged with tension and unspoken danger. Street lights flickered erratically, casting shadows that seemed to writhe and pulse with a life of their own, and the sun barely peaked over the horizon, never fully rising. You reminded yourself of your mission: track Sylus, gain his trust, and bring him into the Hunter's Association. But as you navigated the winding streets, the sensation of being in over your head clung to you

You pulled up a map on your Hunter’s watch, the holographic display glowing dimly in the murky light as you tried to identify potential leads. Information flowed like a murky river in the N109 zone, and every face you passed felt like a mask hiding something sinister. The first few contacts you attempted to make led nowhere - dead ends that plunged you deeper into the seedy underbelly of the district, where conversations were laced with hostility and suspicion.

“Hey, you new around here?” a rough-looking man asked, eyeing you as you lingered outside a dilapidated bar. His crooked smile didn’t reach his eyes and you felt the weight of his scrutiny. “You’ll need a better look if you want to fit in.” You glanced down at yourself-, he wasn't wrong. You stood out like a sore thumb in your Hunter’s uniform. Starting tomorrow, you’d dress like the locals- mostly in all black, blending into the shadows like everyone else.

“Just looking for some information on Sylus Qin,” you replied, trying to sound confident. But the moment his name left your lips, the man’s demeanour shifted. He narrowed his eyes, a flicker of fear or respect—or maybe both—crossing his features.

“Not the guy you wanna be messin’ with, sweetheart. Best steer clear,” he muttered before turning his back on you without another word. Frustration welled up inside you. This wasn’t going as planned. You didn’t want word spreading about your interest in Sylus.

As the day dragged on, you found yourself moving from one low-lit alley to another, encountering rejection and hostility at every turn. Everyone seemed to know Sylus’s name but was too terrified to speak it, leaving you grasping at shadows and feeling increasingly isolated. By the time night fell, the streets became more dangerous, and you decided it was best to retreat to your apartment back in Linkon.

Back home, you leaned against the wall, staring at your watch’s interface. The gravity of the mission settled heavily on your shoulders, and doubt crept in like a thief in the night. You realised that the darkness of the N109 zone was not just a backdrop- it was an entity that clung to you, whispering of your inexperience and vulnerability.

But as the days passed, a strange familiarity began to weave itself into your routine. You watched, listened, adapted. The subtle nuances of the district’s unspoken rules and underhanded dealings started to reveal themselves, and slowly, you learned how to navigate the complexities of the N109 zone. You began to blend in just enough to draw a few passing glances without arousing suspicion.

Your investigative instincts sharpened. You found yourself in beat-up cafés, observing patrons exchanging furtive glances over steaming cups of synthetic coffee, their conversations laced with veiled references to Sylus’s dealings. You overheard whispers of shipments, meetings, and finally- a location that sent your heart racing.

“It’s near the old foundry,” a waitress mentioned to a customer, her voice barely above a whisper. “He runs things from a compound, in one of the old stately homes. He keeps to himself mostly, but you can’t miss it. Just follow the road past the southern docks.”

A rush of determination flooded through you. Finally, a lead! You wasted no time; your heart thrumming with a mix of fear and exhilaration. The thought of finding Sylus’s estate ignited a spark of hope, propelling you forward. As you gathered your gear, you reminded yourself of your purpose. The apprehension from your first day still lingered, but now it was laced with a newfound resolve.

With every step deeper into the N109 zone, you embraced the danger. You were learning, adapting, and slowly becoming part of the intricate tapestry of shadows and light that defined this place. And for better or worse, you were closer than ever to the man who would challenge everything you thought you knew.

The lady had been right—you found the estate with relative ease. It was impossible to miss. The manor, though clearly built long ago, had been restored to near-new condition, standing stark against its dilapidated surroundings. This was Sylus Qin’s home—his base of operations as the head of Onychinus.

The first day you caught sight of him, was the day you knew this mission would be even harder than you were led to believe but for entirely the wrong reasons.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, it was hard to remember why you were there. He was standing in front of a nearby building, the black blazer hanging loosely over his broad shoulders, his silver hair falling in dishevelled strands across his face. His red eyes scanned his surroundings like he owned the place—like there was nothing in the galaxy that could challenge him.

He was tall, too tall maybe, with that unfair kind of height that made him even more intimidating than the average person. But it wasn’t just his height. No, it was the way his body seemed to move—fluid and calculated, each step made with a deliberate grace that told you he knew exactly how dangerous he was. As did the people around him, whose gaze drifted to him subconsciously as he entered a room, commanding their attention.

Your gaze betrayed you, drifting down to his arms, the way his dress shirt clung to his biceps. His build was...distracting, to say the least. Muscular, broad chest, narrow waist, the sharp V-line of his torso that drew your attention a little too much. It was like he’d been sculpted by someone who thought it would be a fun idea to make a man too attractive for his own good. You cursed yourself for lingering.

Then there were his hands. Strong, elegant fingers, the kind you could imagine tracing patterns on the most sensitive parts of your body. You shook the thought away, appalled at how easily your mind wandered. His hands, as beautiful as they were, had more blood on them than you could count. There was nothing innocent about them.

Still, your eyes found their way back to his face, the sharp angles of his jaw, the slight scruff that only added to his rugged charm. And his lips—damn, his lips. Full and soft-looking, the kind of lips that would make anyone wonder what they’d feel like against theirs. You swallowed, cursing the heat that rose in your cheeks.

You had a job to do. You couldn’t afford to think like that.

But there was something about Sylus that made you uneasy beyond his reputation. It wasn’t just his appearance, though that was enough to send your heart racing if you stared too long. It was the way he carried himself, the subtle confidence that came with being untouchable. He was a man who could ruin you in more ways than one, and you knew it.

And yet, here you were, watching him, trying to make sense of the strange feeling gnawing at you.

Attraction? Fear? A little bit of both?

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. You couldn’t afford to get distracted. Sylus was dangerous. You knew that. But that didn’t stop you from thinking about him just a little too much, wondering if the same hands that could kill with such ease might feel different in other situations.

You found yourself thinking about Tara’s remarks. She would have a field day when you told her just how attractive he was. Something inside you bristed at the thought of Tara drooling after him, a nasty part of you felt compelled to slap her inevitable shit eating grin.

Every day, Sylus seemed to do something that contradicted his brutal reputation. Like he pulled up in a sleek black Bentley, only to open the trunk and haul out dozens of tins of tuna. He’d carried them into a dimly lit alley, where a cluster of stray cats eagerly waited their meal. You couldn’t help but smile, your heart softening at the sight. This was the most wanted criminal in deepspace? It was confusing- almost laughable. Captain Jenna’s warnings echoed in your mind, but they felt distant, like the wisp of a memory half-remembered. You watched intently, noticing the gentleness of his hands as he stroked one of the cats. The way his fingers curled and caressed the soft ear of the feline. You watched, meticulously.

Days later, you saw him stop outside a small, rundown school. A group of children played in the dust, their laughter filling the air like a melody. Sylus approached the headmaster, handing him an envelope. You couldn't hear their conversation, but you saw the gratitude in the man’s eyes as he accepted the donation. You noted it down. Sylus was supporting the struggling school’s program. This moment—so starkly contrasting with the image of a ruthless criminal—made you question everything.

Your fascination deepened as you watched Sylus conduct meetings with an array of characters—men in suits, tattooed individuals, all laughing and shaking hands. Nothing appeared violent or suspicious. The disconnect between your observations and the brutal image painted by others became more unsettling by the day.

Following him on foot was another failure—his long strides and confidence made it impossible to keep up. Frustrated, you abandoned the idea and focused on your surveillance equipment, your lifeline. But it was also the tether that forced you to confront the growing complexity of your feelings for him.

Then, everything changed.

It was a quiet afternoon, the kind that seemed to lull the world into a false sense of security. You adjusted your viewing angle, your heart fluttering as you caught a glimpse of him in the warehouse, not far from his estate. Situated high in the rafters.You'd gotten there early, armed with intel on the meeting place.

The scene unfolded like a twisted play- goods exchanged, a casual meeting that quickly turned dark. Sylus stood across from Matthew Halbard and his associates. The deal should have been straightforward, he was buying protocores, altered, high-grade and rare components that would help strengthen his position in the N109 zone, Onychinus’s position. But tension hung in the air like a thick fog, and you could feel it even from your hidden position. Halbard’s eyes flicked with something dangerous, and your instincts told you things were about to go sideways.

The negotiation soured fast. You leaned in closer, your pulse quickening as you realised they intended to con Sylus. A betrayal.They’d planned to catch him off guard, take him out, and claim Onychinus for themselves. 'Cowards,' you thought. The idea of ambushing him, waiting for him to be alone, gnawed at you.

The tension in the air grew and the conversation escalated, Halbard’s face grew more smug and his men seemed to be dripping with anticipation. You watched Sylus closely. His expression remained neutral, predatory even, though you could see the faint tightening of his jaw. It was the only sign of the storm brewing beneath his composed exterior. The sight sent a chill down your spine—the way he moved, the subtle aligning of his hips and rolling of his shoulders, was fluid, like a man who anticipated violence.

Then it happened. In a split second, Halbard’s men drew their weapons. Panic rushed through you, your breath catching. Sylus, however, didn't even flinch. Instead, he smiled—a slow, chilling grin that sent a jolt of fear straight through your core. Gunfire erupted, splitting the air like thunder, but Sylus became the storm instead.

You watched in horror, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, as he dismantled their attack with brutal efficiency, each movement deliberate and lethal. He was a force of nature, dispatching them with the same efficiency you’d seen him use while feeding stray cats - calm, casual, and unnervingly composed. The contrast between those two versions of him - the killer and the caretaker - left you reeling.

His Evol sliced through the air with deadly accuracy. Every strike was purposeful, no movement wasted. You watched in stunned horror as Sylus tortured the men before deciding, with terrifying calm, who deserved to die. The executions were brutal, calculated, each one more grotesque than the last. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t. Every death was horrific, yet undeniably earned. The men had underestimated him, and so, it seemed, had you.

Your stomach churned. The Sylus you’d observed over the last few weeks, the one who laughed over coffee and donated money to local schools, had vanished, replaced by a monster who shed blood as easily as breathing. It left you unsettled, blindsided by the jarring reality. How could this be the same person? You’d let your guard down, allowed yourself to see him through a softer lens, and now it felt like the ground had shifted beneath you.

As the dust settled and the echoes of violence faded, you remained hidden in the rafters frozen in place, your breath coming out in shallow gasps. Sylus scanned the warehouse, his sharp gaze sweeping the area. For a moment, it seemed as though he sensed something out of place. You stayed perfectly still, hoping he hadn’t detected your presence.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, Sylus sent a command to Mephisto, the mechanical crow perched nearby, its cameras whirring softly. “Keep an eye on that one,” he murmured, an amused smirk curling his lips. “Let’s see what she does next.”

Back in your apartment, the images of Sylus in the warehouse played on a loop in your mind, an inescapable storm of conflicting thoughts. You paced, trying to dispel the visions, but they clung to you. The Sylus you'd been watching- the one you'd begun to romanticise- was gone, replaced by the merciless killer from the warehouse.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, trying to calm your racing pulse. Your training kicked in, helping you focus in the quiet darkness of your apartment. That was when you noticed it. A large bird perched on the edge of your balcony, its beady eyes fixed on you. It moved with an eerie smoothness, almost unnatural. You squinted, trying to place the species. It looked like a strange hybrid between a crow and a raven, but something about it felt… off.

You shook your head. “What a strange bird…” you muttered.

Unbeknownst to you, Sylus smiled to himself. “Mephisto,” He chuckled, a spark of amusement lighting his carmine eyes as he leaned back in his chair, watching the live feed from the mechanical crow. The bird let out a soft caw.

“Let’s tone down your surveillance skills a bit,” Sylus chuckled softly. “We don’t want her feeling too watched, now.”

Mephisto ruffled his dark feathers in response, a silent display of sass that didn’t go unnoticed. The way the bird shifted its stance on the balcony almost seemed to say, Good luck with that, master.

Sylus’s gaze lingered on the flickering lights of the live feed as he leaned back, contemplating his next move. He was excited. The thrill of watching you navigate this game filled him with anticipation."Let the little bird think she's in control," he mused aloud, a slow grin forming. "It makes things more interesting.”

I hope you enjoyed chapter 1! Please let me know what you think ♥️ reach out. Let’s talk! 🌹

[ghostofskywalker]

Slowly But Surely

Captain Rex/Fem!Reader

Words: 2,547

Summary: Eventually Rex would find the right moment to tell you how he felt. The only problem was that every time he tried, something else always got in the way.

Prompt: "give me a kiss and i’ll tell you”

Note: this fic is part of the @cloneficgiftexchange - which i ran! my prompt came from @221bshrlocked, and i had a lot of fun writing it, so i hope you enjoy!!

Clone Troopers Masterlist

A knock on your office brought your attention back to the world around you, and you called for whoever it was to come in. Feeling your lips curl into a smile as Captain Rex stepped through the doorway, you put down your datapad. “What can I do for you on this fine-” a quick turn of your head put the chronometer on your wall in plain view “-evening, Captain?”

“You can go to sleep, that’s what you can do,” he said, and you could see a slightly disappointed look on his face. “How long have you been holed up in here?”

You chose not to answer his question right away, pretending to think when in reality you knew by the amount of ration bar packages on your desk and floor that you’d been sitting in the same spot for over 20 hours. “I don’t know, a while?”

“And that is exactly why you need to get some sleep,” Rex said. “This cannot be good for you.”

“If it isn’t good for me, I guarantee it’s not good for you either then.” Yeah, you had a bad habit of working through meals and not getting enough sleep, but you also knew that he shared the exact same bad habit.

“This isn’t about me,” Rex said. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, this wasn’t an unusual conversation to have. “If I go to bed, you need to go too, because I know you haven’t slept either.”

Rex sighed, but he didn’t try to refute your point. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll walk you to your quarters, and then I’ll go to sleep.”

“Do you promise?” You didn’t know if you believed him, but maybe you could actually get him to take a break if you pushed a little bit.

“Yes, I promise.”

“Good,” you said, straightening up the piles of flimsi on your desk before getting up and throwing the trash you had accumulated in the small can on the other side of the room. You would never admit it out loud, but you secretly loved it when Rex came to visit, because his presence automatically made you feel better.

As you walked the quiet halls of the base side by side, you couldn’t help but sneak little glances at him. The 501st was rarely on Kamino for long, although they did stop by at a higher frequency than some other battalions. You had quickly formed a friendship with many of the men in blue, but the captain was the one you felt the most pull towards. In another world, where there wasn’t a war going on, maybe the two of you could have been more than casual friends, but right now you both had more pressing duties than romance.

As you finally approached your quarters, it seemed like Rex wasn’t going to let you off the hook that easily. “I really don’t like that you sleep so little,” he said.

“I could say the same thing about you,” you said. “I think we both have a problem that’s not being helped by the jobs we’re working.”

The ghost of a smile crossed his face, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. “I think you’re right,” was his response. “And we both need to try to get a little more rest.”

There was a pause, a moment where neither of you spoke, and instead you just held his gaze, not sure what to say. The silence wasn’t awkward, and you felt an invisible force pulling you closer to him.

Right as you opened your mouth to ask him if he wanted to stay and relax for a few minutes in your room, a loud crash echoed through the hallway, which set off the automatic alarm. The two of you shared a look of confusion as the deafening noise blared for a few seconds and then stopped, and whatever moment had been starting to form was already broken between you.

You would never admit it out loud, but that night as you fell asleep, you couldn’t help but think about Rex’s kind eyes and warm smile.

***

It wasn’t for quite a few rotations that you found yourself once again in the company of the 501st, but this time you were on their flagship. Apparently there had been some major mixups with their filing, and the GAR wanted to permanently assign someone to each battalion so that this type of trouble was avoided in the future. You had been overjoyed when you received your assignment.

It was certainly an adjustment, living permanently on the ship and familiarizing yourself with the 501st’s systems and files, but you enjoyed it. And the company was much better than any of the Kaminoans that you had met or worked with before, so you really didn’t miss the rainy conditions back on Tipoca City.

There was one other big plus to this particular assignment: and that was the presence of a certain clone captain, even if he had a slightly annoying habit of forcing you to go to sleep every now and again. But as you spent more time with him on the ship, you couldn’t help the way your feelings grew even more. Every time someone knocked on your door you hoped it would be him, and you treasured every single conversation that you had.

You were currently sitting in the mess hall, picking at some flavorless blocks of ration material while you chatted with Fives, Jesse, and Kix about your day. The 501st had just come off a long and tiring campaign, so the fact that the ship was headed back to Coruscant and not another battle was a major morale booster. Even though you didn’t see any active combat, you still felt pain and worry every single time the men went off to fight, because there was the chance that some of them wouldn’t return.

“You should come to 79’s with us!” Jesse said brightly, pulling you out of your thoughts back to the world in front of you.

“Yeah!” Fives chimed in, smiling brightly. “You said you’ve never been, and it’s the best!”

“I don’t know if she would agree with your statement,” Kix said, not looking up from the datapad he was typing on. “But I do agree that you should go. If nothing else, watching these two on leave is nothing less than entertaining. Last time they got picked up by the Coruscant Guard for speeder racing after we left the bar.”

You couldn’t hold in your laughter at that. “Really?”

“Hey, we weren’t charged!” Fives said, rolling his eyes in the direction of his brother. “Thorn just took us in as a joke!”

“He still called Rex to pick you up, didn’t he?”

Silence settled over the table, which meant Kix was telling the truth (and the others didn’t want to admit it). “Well, at least you’re here to tell the tale, right?” you asked, smiling at the two ARC troopers.

Fives just smiled as Jesse opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by someone else sitting down at the table. “Hey Rex,” you said, unable to completely hide the way your face brightened when you saw him. “How are you doing?”

“Not too bad,” he said warmly, returning the smile you sent him. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited for this leave though.”

“You’re coming to 79’s with us, right?” Fives asked. “We’re gonna make sure it’s a good time!”

Something about Fives’ tone must have set off alarm bells in Rex’s mind, because he had a quizzical look on his face. “You go to 79’s every single time we’re on leave, what’s so special about this one?”

“It’s because I’ve never been,” you said, and Rex nodded as you spoke. “Technically I haven’t even agreed to go yet, but I don’t know if I have a choice.”

“You don’t!” Jesse joked. “Come on, it’ll be fun! Captain, you both should come out with us!”

You and Rex shared a look while the others waited for your answer, and eventually you broke down first. “If Rex agrees to it, I’ll go to 79’s with you guys.”

Now the hopeful looks were being directed at the captain, and you knew he couldn’t really say no to them. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll go with you all.”

Happy exclamations were heard from all across the table, and Rex looked like he was about to say something to you when his comm device started to beep. Everyone quieted down as he stepped away and answered it. “Hello?”

You couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, but you recognized the confident tone of General Skywalker on the other end, and soon Rex was nodding goodbye and heading off to whatever he was just called to do. You watched him leave with a small smile on your face, not realizing that the others now might be able to pick up on your certain feelings for their commanding officer.

And thankfully, other than a few raised eyebrows from Fives and Jesse (which you just playfully rolled your eyes at), no one said anything to your face. You just hoped they weren’t secretly scheming to get you and Rex together at the bar, because you didn’t want to potentially jeopardize the friendship you had with him if he didn’t feel the same way about you.

***

79’s was packed and loud, but it possessed a certain charm that made you understand exactly why Fives and Jesse liked it so much. There was a feeling of laughter and light-heartedness in the air (as well as the smell of sweaty troopers, but you tried not to think about that) as you walked over to where the 501st was already seated.

“We got you a drink,” Kix said as you sat down, pushing a glass in your direction.

You smiled at the medic as you picked up the glass and took a sip. “This is good!” you said brightly.

“Yeah, the drinks are good tonight,” Jesse said, already halfway done with his. “They must have just gotten a new shipment of liquor.”

When Rex sat down at the table next to you, there was no way you could ignore the way your heart fluttered. He looked good, having removed the top half of his armor, and you couldn’t help the way you stared at little bit at his muscular frame in his GAR-issued blacks. “Glad you could make it, Captain!” Fives said, passing him a glass of beer. “This is way better than doing paperwork all night, right?”

You and Rex exchanged glances as he answered. “It will be if you don’t get yourself arrested like last time.”

Fives scoffed. “We weren’t charged!”

“And yet I still had to pick you up from the holding cell.”

Fives opened his mouth (clearly to retaliate), but no sound came out, and you tried to hide your laughter by taking another sip of your drink.

“Don’t worry, we don’t ever plan on getting picked up by the Guard again,” Jesse said, and Rex just smiled like he wasn’t sure he believed him. You did believed Jesse when he said he didn’t plan on getting arrested again, but you also didn’t think that would be the last time Rex gets a call to come get his troopers from a holding cell.

The night went on, and the group ended up dispersing a little bit. It was now just you and Rex at the table, and you were glad to get to talk to him without the rest of the 501st around. You loved them all, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the situation you were in right now.

“Are you glad you were assigned to the 501st?” Rex asked, taking another sip of his third beer of the night. “Or do you miss working on Kamino?”

You paused for a moment before responding. “Other than the friends I made among the other battalions, I don’t really miss Kamino,” you said. “And the 501st certainly makes my life unpredictable.”

Rex laughed. “I feel like I should apologize for that.”

“You absolutely do not,” you said. “It just makes my life more interesting to know that a food fight could break out in the mess hall at any moment.”

“Still, I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck with us.”

You put down the glass you were holding and looked him right in the eyes. “Rex, I could never feel like that. I love working among the 501st, and I love working with you.”

“Really? That’s the opposite feedback we usually get.”

You laughed. “Rex, I mean it. Unless you’re really trying to get rid of me, then I take back everything nice I’ve ever said about you.”

“I’m definitely not trying to get rid of you,” he said. “I’m just trying to figure out how the 501st got lucky enough to work with someone like you.”

“You guys are pretty great you know.”

“Yeah, but we’re nothing compared to you.”

The two of you were now much closer than you had been at the start of the night, and you were certainly not complaining about it. Your eyes flicked down to his lips for a fleeting moment, and you could have sworn you saw him do the same thing. Your name came out of his mouth, and you nodded in response, breath caught in your throat as your mind came up with all kinds of fantasies about how you wanted these next few moments to go.

“Yes?” you breathed.

“You really think the 501st is great?”

You just smiled. “Why don’t you give me a kiss and I’ll tell you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, and when his lips landed on yours, you thought this had to be some kind of perfect dream. At that moment, nothing else in the entire galaxy mattered enough for you to care about it. It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of a crowded bar, it didn’t matter that if the rest of the battalion saw you’d be teased for weeks, and it certainly didn’t matter that neither you nor Rex were technically allowed to engage in romantic relationships due to your work with the GAR.

When you pulled apart for air, the two of you stared at each other. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Rex said. “But every time I made up my mind to say something, I got interrupted.”

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while too,” you said, leaning in to place another quick kiss on his lips. “And I’m still not even sure if I’m dreaming or not right now.”

“Why don’t you kiss me again, just to check?”

A soft snort left your mouth as you playfully rolled your eyes, but you would never turn down an excuse to kiss him.

And little did you know, Kix was sitting up at the bar with a smile on his face and a small pile of credits next to him on the countertop (his winnings from Fives and Jesse). He knew exactly how you and Rex felt about each other, and he also knew how to give you both the slight push you so desperately needed. 

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[lothcatthree]

37 for QuinFox for the kiss roulette? ❤️

37. kiss on the back of the neck

send me an ask for a lil kiss with your pairing of choice <3

thank you for the ask, anon!! you know I am weak for these two..

also due to circumstances outside of my control, this has turned into 687 words written in 30 minutes with two different kinds of kisses in addition to the request. hope u understand

(placing under the cut)

In hindsight, maybe Quinlan should’ve warned him.

He tends to forget that not everyone can sense the presence of other beings as easily as they can smell a pastry or taste blood on their tongue. The concept of being painfully aware of every damned sentient being in the vicinity has become second nature to Quinlan, something that’s familiar to him as the curves of the sconces in the Temple halls or the way that Mace’s scowl twitches just to the left when Quinlan smiles at him for too long. 

But, still.

He should’ve warned him.

It’s not like Quinlan could help himself. Fox was standing with his back turned away from the doorway to his office, something that Quinlan would’ve teased him over (Didn’t the Kaminoans teach you how to watch the damn entrances?), but he could see the way Fox’s shoulders were pinched around his neck and the way that his hand was gripping the belt of his lower armor so tightly that Quinlan’s not sure how the plastoid didn’t snap in two.

Every single cord of muscle in Fox’s body seemed to be in a competition for who could kill Fox the fastest… And it appeared like the one on the back of his neck was currently winning, judging by the way that Fox’s head was hunched over into his datapad like he was trying to either eat it or whisper sweet, sweet nothings into its deepest pixels.

Before Quinlan knew it, he was slinking across the room and slightly bumping Fox’s unarmored back with his chest, placing gentle hands on his waist and brushing his mouth over the mess of gray-streaked curls that sit gracefully on the nape of Fox’s neck.

“Hey, sw–”

Ah, and now there’s a blaster in his stomach paired with wild brown eyes and bared teeth. Somehow, Fox didn’t even drop the datapad.

Quinlan only smiles softly in the face of his own beautiful mortality. 

“Fuck,” Fox turns from a rabid animal to a slightly less rabid animal with a sigh and a scrub of his hand (still holding the datapad) over his face. “You scared me.”

Fox puts his blaster that was one press from rearranging Quinlan’s kidney back into the holster with a click. And right before Quinlan was about to make a joke regarding if Fox was happy to see him. Next time. 

“Sorry,” Quinlan lies.

Fox attempts to narrow his eyes, but it falls terribly short when the prestigious Commander exhales and leans forward, reacquainting his forehead to Quinlan’s shoulder with a dull thunk. Quinlan breathes his own little chuckle and buries his hand into Fox’s hair, scratching his scalp. Fox melts and Quinlan takes more of his weight with a quirk of his lips.

“Was gonna ask if you wanted to go to Dex’s with me,” Quinlan murmurs to the ratty couch shoved against the wall, wondering how easily he could get Fox onto it later. 

Fox hums and picks his weight up so he can look at Quinlan properly. Any hint of his scowl has cleared away with the clouds and there’s only a hard-fought trusting gaze that cuts through a fallen dark curl. Quinlan clears it away with gentle fingers that still hum against the storyboard of Fox’s skin.

“You buying?” Fox raises an eyebrow. The silvery scar that runs through it like a stream catches the sunlight outside. 

Quinlan kisses his forehead and lingers for a moment, just long enough to whisper there, “Stole some credits from Obi’s robes. He owes me anyway.”

Fox snorts and pulls away, finally placing the datapad on the desk. He sets it right next to the tiny holopicture of the two of them from a few rotations ago. Fox runs a loving finger over the frame, shrugs and responds, “Good enough for me.”

He puts his upper armor back on, steals a proper kiss, and then they’re walking through the halls again and making fun of the worst Senator of the week.

Quinlan’s heart sings the entire time because while the Force may not be second nature to Commander Fox, Quinlan Vos sure as hell is.

[vodika-vibes]

How would you feel about writing Darman being in love with an oblivious reader & does everything he can to confess BUT she for some reason believes that he’s in love with Etain?

Let's Try This Again

Summary: You're really tired of Darman and Etain rubbing their relationship in your face, especially since Darman is always there. But a conversation changes things.

Pairing: Darman Skirata x F!Reader

Word Count: 858

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I did absolutely no research on Etain, so I hope this is okay.

You frown thoughtfully as you slide your fingers across the top of your datapad. You should be working.

Should being the keyword in that sentence.

You’re having a hard time focusing on your work. After all, Darman is right there, and he’s flirting with Etain right in front of you, and honestly it’s disgusting.

And you might be a little jealous. Just a little.

You turn your gaze to the spreadsheet on your datapad, a dark scowl crossing your face at the thought of Darman and Etain together, though really, you’re pretty sure it just looks like the spreadsheet is annoying you.

Which might be a good thing, at this point.

“I’m sure your datapad is sorry for whatever wrong it committed.” You start and fumble with your datapad when you hear a very familiar voice from your side, “Ah, sorry. I thought you heard us approach.”

“What?” You blink up at Darman, and then flicker your gaze over to Etain, and then back to Darman.

“You…uh…were glaring at your datapad,” Darman offers with a genial grin, “Is everything alright?”

“Oh! Yes. Everything is fine. Ish. Some credit discrepancies, but I’ll figure it out. I always do.” You say quickly, “Sorry if my foul mood was bothering you.”

“Do you need any help?” Etain asks, “I’m not what anyone would call an accounting specialist, but maybe a new pair of eyes will help?”

“I’m sure you have better things to do than stare at spreadsheets for the next few hours.” You say easily, “Besides, this is what I get paid for.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” Etain murmurs quietly, before she elbows Darman and shoots him a look.

“What? Oh! Right!” He leans against the side of your desk, and grins at you, “So, mesh’la, have you heard about the new restaurant that they opened near the river? The open air one?”

“I’ve read that the reviews are really good,” You confirm, even as you focus your attention back to your datapad, “Why do you ask?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve read the reviews are amazing,” Darman replies, “Anyway, do you want to go and get dinner tonight?”

You flicker your gaze up to him, and then over to Etain, and then back to Darman, “I’m really busy, Darman, I’m sure the pair of you can have fun without me.”

He falters, though you don’t see, “I…no…I don’t want to take Etain-”

Etain sighs deeply, and presses her hand to her head, “Dear Force, you’re both dense.”

You shoot the older woman an offended look, and Darman wilts a little bit, “You don’t have to be so mean about it, Etain.” He grumbles.

Etain slams her hands on your desk, and you yelp and push your seat back slightly, “You!”

“Yes ma’am?!”

“Darman is in love with you! To a pathetic level! If I have to hear him pining over you on a mission one more time I’m going to throw him off a cliff!” Etain says loudly.

Darman flushes and he presses his hands over his face, “Stars, Etain…could you say that in any more of a humiliating way-?”

“And you!” The Jedi rounds on Darman, who takes a step away from her, “Stop pussyfooting around her! Just be kriffing honest!” She slams her hands on her hips, “You,” She points at Darman, “Are taking her,” She points to you, “Out of a date tonight. And You,” She jabs her finger at you, “Are going to wear a pretty dress that I bought you, and you,” She points at Darman again, “Are going to bring her flowers. Have I made myself clear?”

You nod mutely, and you note that Darman is also nodding rapidly.

“Great!” Etain is all smiles now, “I have spent far too much time obsessing about your relationship, so you will be happy or I am going to be very grumpy!” And then she spins on her heels and leaves the office, allowing the door to slide shut behind her.

“...you’re in love with me?” You ask, once you’ve recovered from Etain’s explosion.

“Uh…yeah. I’ve been trying to ask you out for a, frankly, embarrassing amount of time.” He says with a sheepish laugh, “but you kept assuming that I was talking about Etain, so I asked her for advice-”

“No wonder she got so frustrated,” You mumble as  you tuck your hair behind your ear, “Um…sorry, for jumping to conclusions. I was a little…jealous.”

Darman pauses, and then he grins in sheer glee, “Jealous?”

You duck your head, “Stop being smug.”

“No, no! Why were you jealous? Did you want me to ask you on a date? Do you actually like me as much as I like you?” Darman asks, “Come on, cyare, throw me a bone.”

Your face heats, “Yes, alright! I do like you as much as you like me. And I was jealous because I thought you were dating Etain.”

His grin grows, “Well, now you know you have no reason to be jealous-”

“I do, yes.”

“So, would you like to go on a date with me? Dinner and then dancing?”

You smile up at him, shyly, “I’d like that. A lot.”

[gamerkitten]

Reunion

He had to be dead. 

Maybe he had caught a bullet from a lucky merc and this was his brain tormenting him in his last moments.

"Shepard?" 

"Garrus, is that you?"

She looked the same. Same dark hair, piled atop her head in a bun; sweat pasting escaped tendrils to her face. Her eyes were the same shade of amber, her face marred by a few scars but still sprinkled with freckles a slightly darker shade of brown then the rest of her skin.

But she was dead.

The message reaches him at home, on Palaven, his omni-tool beeping frantically. Seeing it's from Joker, he ignores it with a mental reminder to reply later. Right now, he's in the middle of cleaning his rifle.

"Garrus!"

His sister, Solana comes rushing into his room and he knows that something is wrong.

"Sol, what is it," he rises, leaning the gun against the wall, "is it mom?"

"Garrus," her voice is steady but her sub-vocals tell him she's anything but," Garrus, I'm so sorry-"

"What is it?" He snaps

Wordlessly, she crosses the room and switches on the television. The news is on and in the corner is a photo of...

"Shepard."

He struggles to make sense of what he's seeing, what he's hearing.

"It is a dark day for the galaxy," the news anchor says mournfully, " the Normandy has been destroyed with multiple casualties, including Commander Cassia Shepard, who defeated the rogue specter Saren Arcturis on the Citadel 1 month past."

The world falls away and he nearly falls with it, legs buckling beneath him only to be caught by his sister and led to his desk where he is lowered into his chair.

"Garrus-"

"I-I'm fine Sol," he hears himself say, "I just need to be alone."

"Are you sure-"

"Out."

It comes out as a growl and she takes the warning and leaves. Once she's gone, he flings a datapad across the room, tears blurring his vision.

He had just talked to her, what, two weeks ago? 

And now she was gone. He felt cold, numb. This couldn't be happening.

Tapping at his omni-tool, he pulled up Joker's message.

"Garrus, I- fuck," Joker's voice comes through, raw and ragged with greif, " I didn't want you to find out through the news. Shepard's gone. She- she got spaced when the Normandy was attacked. She saved me and- fuck man, I'm sorry."

He couldn't say what exactly happened in the weeks following that message, most of it was blurred by the wonderful amnesiac qualities of Turian brandy. Eventually that wasn't enough. He couldn't stand it, the way Sol constantly checked up on him; seeing the face of his best friend on every tv screen, knowing that he would never see her again. Never...

He returns to the Citadel and C-sec, but it isn't the same. How could it be?

The red tape that merely annoyed him before now adds to a slowly simmering rage. 

He tries, spirits, does he try. 

He tries to push against the official line that the war is over with the defeat of the Geth and Sovereign, tries to do good, tries to do his Commander proud.

Something in him snaps.

The catalyst is a smuggler, bringing red sand and spirits knows what else onto the Citadel. Red tape, too much for him to bypass, stops him from getting to him so he quits, much to his father's immense disappointment.

A little squeezing produces a name. A little more produces a place: Omega. Garrus is on the first shuttle out.

Upon landing he immediately takes down a Vorcha mugging an elderly human with a well placed hit with his rifle butt. The woman is thankful, calling him an angel;some type of human guardian spirit.

Later he finds another Turian at the Afterlife while drowning his sorrows and the two decide to take the fight to Omega's gangs.

After that, more join up until he has a squad, 12 strong, helping to clean up the streets of the space station and earning both the adoration of the locals and a new nickname: Archangel.

Adoration isn't the only thing their war earns them; credits roll in as well. His men want to take it easy, slow down, but he won't hear it. Partly because he knows they're doing good work and partly because he doesn't know what he'll do if he doesn't have a target in his scope.

 He pushes too hard.

Sidonis's betrayal catches him completely off guard. Lured away with a lie of an operation, he returns to carnage. His crew lies dead or dying throughout their hideout and Sidonis is nowhere to be found. As he does his best to keep the survivors alive, he can feel the old rage coursing through his veins as he clears out the invading gang members one by one. 

Sidonis is going to pay.

He's exhausted. The bodies of his crew are starting to smell, and he's running low on ammo. He pulls the trigger and another merc falls, they've long since stopped sending their best and he's long since stopped feeling bad about the inexperienced cannon fodder being sent after him.

Still, it won't be long now.

Moving into cover, he opens his omni-tool and does something he hasn't done in a long time.

"Hello?"

"Hey Dad."

"Garrus? What's that sound?"

He peers through the scope and drops another merc.

"Target practice."

"Then call back later."

"I-I don't think I'll be able to do that," he sighs, "too many targets."

"...I see."

Another merc falls but there are four more coming to take his place.

"Listen, Dad, I don't have a lot of time left," he says, popping out the heat sink, "I just wanted to tell you, you were right. About everything. I'm sorry we fought so much."

"Don't worry about that now," his father replies, to an untrained ear he might have sounded calm, "these...targets? Are they moving fast?"

"Not fast enough," he's looking through his scope again and notices a group who seem to actually know how to use cover, " but they're learning."

"Thermal clips?"

"Could always use more."

The group is on the move again, and he spies something that makes his heart skip a beat. N7 armor.

" No matter how bad things are," his father continues, " so long as you have one bullet left, you can still finish the job. Understand?"

"Yes sir." He mutters, shooting a concussive round at the mystery soldier. It knocks their helmet off, revealing a pile of raven-dark hair.

"Good, and when you finish up there you come home to Palaven. We have a lot to sort out."

 His focus is now squarely on the squad making their way across the bridge; he can see her clearly in his scope, right as she fires a round into the back of a merc's head.

"Yeah, we do," he says, relief washing over him, "Dad, I've got to go, but don't worry about me. The odds just got a lot better."

"I thought you were dead."

He resisted the impulse to touch her, to make sure that she's actually real and not some pre-death hallucination, opting to sit down on a nearby crate instead.

"Garrus, what are you doing here?" She asked, her eyes bright and alive.

"Good to see you too."

She smiled up at him and he felt his stomach flip, " I'm just surprised to see you."

"Well, that makes both of us." He replied, " Still, it's good to see a friendly face. Killing mercs is hard work, especially on my own."

"You shot me."

"Concussive rounds only, didn't want the mercs getting suspicious."

She crossed her arms, rolling her eyes in that oh so familiar way, "yeah, right."

His mandibles twitched in a smirk, "If I wanted to do more than take your shields down, I would have done it. Besides, you were taking your sweet time, I had to get you moving."

She had questions, he was sure, but so did he. Not that they had time for that, not with the mercs en route. 

The decision was easy, they would hold their position and with the help of Shepard and her two companions they should be able to make a dent in the merc's resistance and haul ass out of the base.

"Alright," she said, with a grin, "let's spill a little merc blood."

"Good to see you haven't changed."

The battle was desperate, even with the help, but Garrus found himself reinvigorated; watching Shepard aim down the sights of her own rifle to his left. It was her usual spot, and he hadn't fully realized how impossible it had been to fill until she was back in it.

He took aim, and had a merc in his sights but before he could pull the trigger, their head snapped back and they dropped to the floor. 

"You stole my kill, Shepard."

"Ya snooze ya lose Vakarian," she shot back, laughing over the sound of gunfire, " besides, you've had them all to yourself, don't be greedy."

"Me? Never."

She stayed by his side for most of the fight while the other humans took out anyone that made it past their bullets,there weren't many, or made entry on the lower level. It was only when Blue Suns started streaming in that she switched to her SMG and ran off to get rid of them while he kept picking off anyone stupid enough to try and cross the bridge.

Then came the gunship.

"Damnit," he growled, reloading, "I thought I took that thing out."

A hail of bullets flew towards him as he turned to fire, taking down his shields and forcing him into cover.

"You think you can screw with the Blue Suns," taunted the pilot, "this ends now!"

Swearing, he made for cover on his left just in time to see a rocket fly in his direction. The world exploded around him and he felt himself become airborne before landing in a heap, excruciating pain radiating through his body as his vision began to darken. Somewhere above him, he heard someone screaming his name.

As he lost consciousness, he only had one thought.

I just got her back.

[rebelrainfall]

Hello @imsfire2, here’s a short fic for your rebelcaptain trees prompt “Jyn and K-2 caring for Cassian or bonding over their loyalty to him” 💕💕

***

“Jyn Erso.”

As always, K-2’s voice is entirely too loud for the space, and Jyn glares at him as it echoes in the room, the handful of other rebels working near her looking up at them both in confusion.

“K-2S0,” she says, imitating his intonation as she looks back down at the text on  the datapad in her lap. She doesn’t ask why he’s here. If he needs something from her he certainly won’t hesitate to tell her.

“Please come with me.”

Yes, there it is.

“Come where?” Knowing K-2, this could mean anything, from a summons to the council room for an assignment not unlikely to kill her, to a tool that he needs having rolled under a table he’s too tall to reach under. (And if it’s that second thing, again, she’s not unlikely to kill him.)

“Cassian’s quarters. It’s important.”

K’s concept of importance can be rather relative, but Jyn sets aside her datapad and stands up anyway. Even if it turns out this isn’t truly important, she’s more than ready for a break from her work and Cassian’s bedroom in, after all, her favourite place to spend an evening.

K-2 has much longer legs than she does, forcing her to take two steps for each of his to keep pace with him as they make their way across base toward the sleeping quarters, but Jyn manages.

“What’s so important, then?” She asks as they go.

“Cassian is under a high level of stress. You have to come and kiss him.”

“He’s always under -- what?”

“I said, Cassian is under a high level of stress. You have to --”

“No, I heard you, but I don’t understand. You came to get me, because you want me to kiss Cassian?” He’s hardly seemed to appreciate it before, making loud, passive-aggressive remarks every time she and Cassian have dared to be affectionate in his presence in the few wonderful months since the nature of their relationship changed. Jyn had assumed it made him uncomfortable.

“Yes.”

And he seems to consider the matter settled, but -- “Why?” 

“I told you, twice. He is stressed, and I am concerned for his well-being.”

When Jyn only continues to look at him, awaiting further explanation, he gives some approximation of a disappointed sigh. He seems to think that’s all the explanation she should need. Clearly, Jyn is behind somehow.

“Cassian is in a bad mood,” he begins, slowly like he’s explaining something to a child, “And when you kiss him, his mood improves. Therefore, you should come and kiss him.” 

Well. That does make some measure of sense, in a very K-2 sort of way.

“You’ve been keeping track of this?”

“It is a clear and consistent pattern. You make Cassian happy. I can appreciate that.”

The words make something warm grow behind Jyn’s ribs. She knows, of course, that Cassian enjoys her company, that he likes her affection. But it’s something different to hear it from K-2, K who couldn’t tell a lie to save his life, who knows Cassian better than any other being in the galaxy.

Before she can come up with some way to answer, K-2 turns off from the main corridor and into the almost-empty mess hall. Jyn’s confusion only lasts a moment before she realizes he’s on his way to the kettles at the back of the room.

“It’s very cold in his room, and he hasn’t had enough to drink today,” he explains as he pours hot water into a thermal cup, ignoring the pot of caf that would only further aggravate Cassian’s stress levels. 

“You’re a good friend, Kay,” Jyn says, smiling slightly at the wave of affection she feels for this ridiculous, aggravating droid. So, maybe they don’t always get along, but she can’t help  but be fond of him, if only for the love he has for the man she loves.

When they arrive at Cassian’s room Jyn can see immediately that K-2 was right. Everything in Cassian’s expression and posture speaks of exhaustion, both mental and physical, but still he’s sitting at the desk that’s so terrible for his back, staring at documents in a language Jyn can’t understand like they’ve personally hurt him. Really, they may well have.

“I have brought you hot water,” K-2 announces as he lets them into the room.

“Thank you, Kay, that was thoughtful of you,” Cassian says, though he doesn’t look up from his work.

“Jyn Erso is also here.”

At that, Cassian does look up, and his expression softens a shade.

“Hi,” he says. “Did Kay really go out and fetch you? I told him you were busy…”

“I’ll be going, now,” K-2 says abruptly, and Jyn huffs a laugh. He still isn’t a fan of their affection in his presence, then. He shuts the door on his way out, leaving the two of them in the quiet room.

“I heard you needed some attention.” Jyn reaches a hand out toward his datapad, and Cassian lets her take it without resistance. She sets it on a shelf out of his reach, and drapes herself unceremoniously across his lap in its place. It earns her that soft smile that makes her heart stutter, and she nuzzles affectionately into his neck.

“That droids loves you so much,” she murmurs, reaching up to comb her fingers through his messy hair. “And so do I.”

“I’m a lucky man,” Cassian says, and presses his lips to her forehead.

She could melt into him so easily, but she hasn’t forgotten she has a job to do.

Pulling him down with her grip on his hair, Jyn does what she was told and kisses Cassian, deeply and lovingly because if K-2 thinks she can lower his stress levels, she’s going to do it.

An hour later, watching Cassian sleep peacefully in her arms, she’d say it worked.

K-2 really isn’t so bad.

[purplefangirl42]

Clonetober- Day 7

Prompt: “Patience . . . is not something I’m known for.”/time loop/bodyguard AU

Prompt list by @ladysongmaster Divider by djarrex

Tags/Warnings: Captain Rex x OC (Lena Orim), Nobility/Bodyguard AU

Rex read over the information on his datapad for the fifth time, wanting to make sure he had everything memorized. He didn’t want to mess this job up. Senator Organa was counting on him to make sure the person he was guarding made it through the conference safely, and he intended to do just that.

“You look nervous,” Cody said from where he sat across the table. “This isn’t anything different than what you’ve done before. Remember the Duchess from Mandalore?”

“That was different,” Rex said, putting down the datapad. “There were more of us and there were two Jedi on board. This time, it’s just going to be me.”

“You’ll be fine,” Cody said reassuringly. “Also, I hear she’s really nice. Maybe you’ll make a new friend.”

Rex shook his head in disbelief. Making friends with his charge was not his goal. Keeping her alive and out of danger was. Senator Organa had told him there were many people that wanted her gone, including Count Dooku himself. When Rex had asked why she wasn’t put under a higher amount of security, he hadn’t gotten a straight answer.

The comm on his wrist beeped, telling him that it was time for him to go. He gave Cody a wave as he walked away and pulled his helmet onto his head. Rex could feel his heart thrumming in his ears as he approached Senator Organa’s office, every nerve in his body on edge. He took a deep breath and pressed the button beside the door.

“Come in,” said a voice from inside.

Rex opened the door and entered the office, his eyes searching the room for its occupants. He could see Senator Organa sitting behind his desk. Across from him sat a woman with very long hair cascading down her back, part of it braided in complicated sections at the top of her head and the rest hanging loose. She turned to look at him when he entered and he was struck. 

She was beautiful. A few loose tendrils of dark blonde hair curled at the sides of her head, framing her pale face. When she smiled in greeting, her gray eyes crinkled at the corners and it almost seemed like she radiated light. 

“Ah, Captain Rex,” Senator Organa said in greeting. “Just in time. This is my friend, your companion for the next little while.”

The woman stood from her chair and walked in his direction, holding out her hand for him to shake. Her smile from before hadn’t faded, bright as ever as she introduced herself.

“Lady Lena of House Orim,” she said. “Pleased to meet you, Captain Rex.”

Rex reached out and shook her offered hand. Now that she was standing closer, he could see how tiny she was. Much like Senators Chuchi and Amidala, she was significantly smaller than him, the top of her head barely above his shoulder. Even her hand seemed tiny clasped in his.

“I heard you and I are going to be spending some time together,” she said. “Since Bail insists on me having a shadow.”

“I only want you to be safe, Lena. The conference won’t have the security needed. Captain Rex is very capable and will be able to keep you from harm.”

Lena rolled her eyes at the Senator and gave Rex an apologetic look.

“I’m sure you have much better things to do with your time, so I apologize for you being made to do this.”

“It’s no problem, ma’am,” Rex said. “I have my orders, and I will follow them.”

Rex saw the smile on Lena’s face diminish before she seemed to get control over whatever negative thought she had and it returned, albeit a bit less bright. She turned away from him and returned to the chair she had left earlier, retrieving a small bag from where it hung over the back. 

“I will see you when I return, Bail. Try not to worry too much.”

Lena gestured for Rex to follow her out into the hallway. He took a place a short distance behind her and started to follow her, but she waved him forward to walk beside her. With a small amount of hesitation, he stepped up to where she wanted him and they continued their trek down the hallway.

“I hope we’ll be able to get to know each other on this trip,” Lena said. “I haven’t had the chance to travel far from Alderaan in recent years, so I’m afraid my social circle is a bit small.”

Rex thought back to Cody’s words about him making a new friend. He had to laugh a little at the idea of a noble lady of Alderaan becoming his friend. It didn’t seem high on the list of possibilities. 

“I’m not sure how good of company I will be for you ma’am,” he said. “We don’t exactly walk common life paths.”

“That’s okay, I like a little variety in my life. I’m sure we’ll get along just perfectly.”

Rex had never heard the word variety used in reference to clones. Usually they were grouped together as a single entity, despite their efforts to make themselves as individual as possible. Perhaps she was his chance for a little variety as well.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! Please reblog, like, and comment! This one was a little shorter because I think I would like to turn this into a one-shot or mini-series in the future!

[sullustangin]

Fluff Prompt 1: The News

This had been slightly delayed from Friday.  @frutepye stated they needed some cheering up around this time of year, so they sent in some prompts that I’m happy to fulfill.  (If you’re reading the Ziost fic, BOY HOWDY, you know why.)

So here’s the first one:  Jace finds out he’ll be a grandfather.  I wrote a snippet of this a few years ago, but this is considerably expanded. CW for mention of pregnant person (Eva). 

~~

Marcus Trant watched the steadily flashing light on Jace Malcom’s desk.  Someone was waiting on hold.

Specifically, it was the light used to indicate that the Alliance’s representative wanted to speak to Malcom. That varied, according to Malcom. In the days between the end of the Eternal Empire and the Iokath operation, it had been Aygo, and most days, it continued to be.  

After Iokath, once in a while, Theron Shan would call in.  Most of the time it was all business.  Jace was happy to acknowledge that there had been more personal lines of communication established, especially since the miracle that had been Theron getting married.

Trant had met and worked with Eva Corolastor a few times.  As a person, Trant could see how she suited Theron.  What didn’t track was the fact that, at the same time, she was the Voidhound, the leader of a third major faction in the galaxy, while still running the Voidfleet Cartel.

Trant supposed Theron had finally stopped running from those issues, a topic of contention between them… twenty years ago now.  The galaxy had changed since Theron had tracked down Ngani Zho and discovered the existence of the Sun Razer.  

Trant didn’t know if the galaxy was better, for all that it had endured.  He did know that Theron had finally permitted himself to have something that didn’t directly contribute to ‘the greater good.’

But apparently, ‘the greater good’ manifested in stranger ways that anyone could have anticipated: the Voidhound, her Alliance, the current status quo of the galaxy.

That explained pretty much all of Trant’s interest in that flashing light on Malcom’s desk.  It was his business to know about other governments in the galaxy. Theron’s life was absolutely none of his business, but that didn’t stop Trant from trying to follow it like one of the holodramas Mrs. Trant #4 liked to watch.

(Trant hated the fact that both Jace and Theron – completely independently of each other, at least a decade apart – had privately nicknamed his wives the exact same way so they could keep track of them.)

(And Trant really hated that he’d started to number them the same way as they did.  So maybe he had issues too.)

“Trying to follow” was the operative phrase here.  The pair were pretty slick in obscuring their whereabouts and activities.  Nothing personal; Theron was still her spymaster, active in the field.  His face was still unknown to the galaxy.  Trant knew that Theron had raced under an alias at Manaan recently, mostly through Jace who was conveniently there at the time on Republic business. Beyond that, Theron had lived in the shadows, and Eva had glided along the line of being famous and infamous, as usual.

Thus, Marcus Trant was very pleased to see Theron’s image flicker to life on the holocomm.  

The former SIS agent noticed his ex-boss immediately.  “You in the middle of something?”

“No, son,” Jace answered far too quickly to let Trant say otherwise.

Theron caught that.  “Right.”  He frowned slightly, looking down at a datapad.  “Well, I have no doubt you’d hear about this anyway, so I guess this saves us all time.”  

Trant saw the smile pass like a ghost across Theron’s face before he resumed his usual briefing style: brisk, slightly irreverent, unerringly accurate.

Trant noticed that the comm was suddenly secured at highest decryption levels, both ways.  

Malcom picked upon that too.

“The Captain wanted me to inform you…” Theron stopped, as if reconsidering the words and how he wanted to convey the message.  “We’ve --- ”  Again, that smile that didn’t linger, this time with the slightest worry.  “It’s still very early, but she wanted someone to know, regardless –”  

Malcom frowned.  “Theron, is Eva all right?”

The transit smile finally stopped and remained, even as Theron’s eyes dropped to his datapad.  

Trant knew that smile.  He’d worn it himself, twice, and he saw it after the fact in holos.  “I think she’s more than all right, currently.  Theron?” He wanted to get that confirmation…because he wanted to know he still had that investigator’s knack.  Being out of the field was hard for Trant – always had been.

Jace Malcom was a smart guy, but he could be utterly dense sometimes.  His gaze bounced between Theron and Trant, slightly irritated that he hadn’t been let in on the news yet.  Then again, Marcus Trant was not the Director of SIS just because he was cute and did the paperwork.  

“Yeah.”  Then, faintly, as if still absorbing the shock, yet undeniably happy: “She’s pregnant.”

Jace Malcom rose to his feet from behind his desk, staring at Theron’s image.  His expression was unreadable.

And then the world lurched.

So this is how I die, thought Trant as he watched the Supreme Commander spike his caf mug into his office desk, breaking both into pieces.  Then Jace let out a whoop still worthy of Havoc Squad.  Jace is going to bounce me off the desk next.  Or break all my ribs in a hug.

(Jace could still benchpress a speeder, probably.)

Then security burst through the door and swarmed the entry way.  The point men stared first at Trant, then at Malcom, then at the office furniture, then back at Malcom.

“I’m going to have a grandbaby!” he bellowed joyously. Security collectively blinked and backed out of the office, with all due haste.

The holo image flickered from its newfound position on the floor.  “Please don’t give yourself another heart attack or break anything….anything else.”  Theron ran a hand back through his hair as he amended the sentence.  “And don’t convert anything into a nursery – you’re not allowed to kidnap it.”

It seemed to finally register on Jace that he’d effectively trashed his office like some junior officer on a bender.  His hands flexed a few times as he shuffled around the debris to pick up the holo unit.  Once he had it in his hands, Jace’s words failed him as he looked at Theron. “I –it’s – such --  good job, son.”

All three men facepalmed at the same time at that one.  

“Congratulations, Theron,” Trant finally offered the obvious, saner alternative.

Theron nodded as his hand came away from his face.  “She – she still wants to celebrate it, but –”

“Risky.”  Jace seemed to gathered enough of his wits to analyze the situation; some people might have thought that Theron had received his analytical skills from Satele, but as far as Marcus Trant knew, that was not the case. It was public knowledge that Eva had spent considerable time in carbonite.  “But you two never were fully opposed to risk-tasking.”

Again, Theron’s smile flickered.  “No.  Never.”

~~

Hope this fit the bill, @frutepye!  More to come in the near future

[solar-siren]

Angstpril Day Ten: Sacrifice

“This is yours,” Able says. He’s standing in front of his desk, offering something Tron doesn’t want to take.

“It was waiting when I got here. I’m not sure who brought it in. None of my betas saw anything.” His expression is composed, but his voice is thick with grief.

Tron stares at the weapon he holds and says nothing.

The disc is white. But unlike that of a siren, or a User, its light is blue.

Just like his.

There’s only one other program on the Grid who has a disc like that. And if Able has it, she isn’t using it anymore.  

 Tron has to look eventually. He puts it off for as long as he can stand it, until he’s back at the spire, and the rest of Argon is deep in hibernation. Alone in the dark he activates the white disc—and Yori’s visage smiles back at him. 

It’s been far too long since he last saw her. Anger flares up with the pain. How had he forgotten the intelligence in her eyes? The mischief in her smile? She will never look at him that way again.

It takes everything he has to view her last memory file. The timestamp reveals that it’s from only three cycles ago. She’d still been alive for that long, and he had no idea. She’s already been  gone for that long, and he hadn’t noticed. Another unthinkable failure. 

Add it to the list.

 Her final memory begins with others. Yori hadn’t been hiding, but leading. A horde of programs follow her as they slip through the streets of the Capitol. 

And then he hears her voice.

“This way,” she says, ushering programs past. “There’s a station just a few blocks from here. You’re almost there. Hurry!” She’s commanding, urgent, but not panicked. 

Even when she should be.

“Freeze, program!”

Tron recognizes the tone of Clu’s soldiers before he sees them. The view changes as Yori whips around. More programs file past her, all running now. And instead of following them, like she should, she charges towards the guards.

To save the terrified program they’ve cornered. 

They’re small. Young, Tron thinks. He realizes they must be an ISO. He wonders if the others were, too. 

“Go!” Yori shouts. She checks the program out of the way, entering the path of the disc that would have derezzed them. 

And the video ends.

 It’s as simple as that.

She died at the hands of some lucky fool who was aiming for someone else. She’d died so  that program, maybe someone she’d barely known, didn’t have to. The same way Tron very nearly died for Flynn. 

And was that why? 

Had she glorified his demise to lessen her pain? To convince herself he died for something that mattered? Had she emulated him because she missed him? Because she thought that’s what he would want?

He wanted her  here  . Her teasing and her laughter, warming this awful empty space. Her messy, sprawling presence, covering every surface with blueprints and datapads, filling the air itself with simulations. Her fussing and scolding. Her reassurance. Her beside him at night. Just her. His other, better half. Yori who helped people. Yori who made things. Yori, who never hurt anyone. To think that she died while he survived is  wrong , unjust in a way he can’t even name. 

Maybe it was unrealistic, but he’d always hoped they’d find each other somehow. They’d done it once before. Together, they would have stood a chance against Clu. Now, though, Tron isn’t sure who or what he has left to fight for. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, when he is able to speak again. He’s not sure why he says it. He doesn’t believe she can hear him. 

“I wasn’t there when you needed me. I didn’t protect you.”

 But he can protect what little is left.

 “You were wrong.” 

Able jumps about a foot in the air when Tron emerges from the shadows. “You have got to stop doing that!” he snaps, clutching at his core. The monitor ignores him.

“Take this,” he says. Able frowns at the disc in his hand.

“I thought—”

“It’s safer here with you,” Tron says. “Put it with the suit. Hide it in plain sight. No one will ever know.”

The offer is more tempting than Able would like to admit. He loved Yori too, in his own way. Having some part of her close would bring him comfort. 

But there are other factors to consider.

“Tron, I think she would want you—”

“No.” He’s hiding behind a mask again, but Able doesn’t need to see eyes to read the exhaustion and brokenness they hold. He steps back and quickly, gently lays the disc on Able’s desk. “I don’t deserve it.” 

The program is gone before he can protest.

[nn1895]

A Year of Moments Elita/Optimus Drabbles - Febuary

Long Distance

Her cabin was dark.  She had a view of star-speckled space through the only porthole from her berth.  Had it always been so vast?  So dark? Maybe it had been too long since she’d been in a spaceship, since she’d been able to leave Cybertron.

She rolled away and tucked her servos under her helm firmly.

She was not going to give in.  She wasn’t. No.

She flipped over and hit the ‘replay’ symbol on the small, outdated terminal screen.

“I am sending this message out to all the Autobots scattered among the stars.  We are here.  We are waiting.”

Mermaid AU

Elita-1 had the illustrious duty of looking intimidating while representing the Iacon Imperial Army in front of the robofish people.

Instead she was staring at the robofish leader’s broad shoulders and the iridescent flickers of his blue tail beneath the waves.  He was beaming at them, as the rest of his spear-bearing party grimaced.

His Imperial Highness of Iacon had the finest weapons at his pedes.

The Prime was continually being bumped and nudged by mersparklings – lumpy rainbow hued blobs with limb buds.  They twined happily through his digits as he gestured.

She caught his gaze and his optics widened.

Valentine’s Day

Optimus made it a point to give out the traditional cards, even though his co-workers at the Archive lacked all romantic sensibilities.  Most were quadruple his age, all a bit patronizing.  He didn’t mind.  He made up a few extra and attached a goodie all the same.  It was festive.

“I want all your datapads on murder.  Now.” The femme at the reference desk did not look festive.

“Preventing or perpetrating?” he asked.  She laughed roughly.

“She’s stood me up again.” The femme blinked rapidly.  “Today, of all days.”

Optimus pushed on of the extra cards across the table.  

“Here.”

“If I kiss you, will you shut up?”

“I deeply apologize, My Lord.”  Her spinal strut was so straight he could have used it to calibrate a laser.  “As your knight, it’s my duty to put everything aside when it comes to your safety,” she continued, optics unfocused, as if she was reading from her HUD.

Ridiculous.  As if he hadn’t been a very – very – active participant.

“It will never –“

“If I kiss you, will you stop talking nonsense?” he asked, dropping to his knee to look her in the optic.

“I – what?”  Her optics widened.  His knight was so beautiful.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Fear gas

He shook in her arms, optics widening, vocalizer spitting static at monsters she couldn’t see or fight.

It had to wear off. It had to.  She kept her own terror close to her spark so he couldn’t feel it, even as hers was flooded with pain.  She looked at ship’s map.  Nearly back to Cybertron.

“Megatronus…”  Optimus lifted a servo and let it fall.

She buried her helm in his shoulder.  She knew she hadn’t been the first bot in his spark.  She just hoped that whatever eventually separated them, wouldn’t give Optimus nightmares like he had.  She’d die first.

Different

“I’ll be different,” Ariel said slowly, lowering her acceptance letter, “Not coming into work everyday.”  Not seeing you everyday.

“At first, but we’ll all get used to it.  It’ll be okay.”  Orion Pax grinned at her as he checked the rigging on one of the crates.  “Besides, once you’re a big shot in the military, you can buy us more drinks!”

“Aren’t you still trying for a place at the Archives?”

His shoulders slumped, but he kept the grin fixed.  “Maybe next vorn.”

“Orion –“

“Look!  Jets!” He pointed to the entrance.  “Hey, you guys!  Are you here to help?”

[justabadmistake]

"I love you!" He disappears up the ramp and takes off a few moments later for Coruscant's Palace.

When he arrives, he goes through a strict process of security scanning, which he thankfully passes without issue. He receives a badge, a jacket for the colder portions of the palace, his own datapad, and an Imperial-issue comm as well, programmed with the numbers of every important person in the Empire.

A scroll through the comm and a skim of the contact list reveals several names that will be beneficial. Nala Se. Royce Hemlock. Cody. Boba Fett, as he's also infiltrating as the top bounty hunter for the Empire. Wilhuff Tarkin. Orson Krennic. Scorch, Crosshair, the Inquisitors- everyone he could possibly ever need.

If he gives these numbers to Rex, will he be able to track everyone? That could be helpful in the long run. Unless he has to turn this comm in at the end of each day. That could also be the case.

He knocks on Vader's office when he arrives, smiling as Vader opens the door. "Hi."

"Who are you?" Vader blinks. "Are you lost, Cadet?"

Ruhn blinks back. "Oh- no! Dad it's me," he whispers, "Just- mom is making me wear a face thingy for security purposes."

"Oh. Hi," Vader grins, letting him come in. "I... set up a space for you," he gestures to the desk he made to look just like his own, with a computer, and places to set his other devices. "I thought you might like your own sturdy place to work."

"Thanks!" He moves over and quickly starts to put everything down.

Vader notes his lunchbox and points to it, "Did your mom pack you lunch?"

"Yeah," Ruhn beams, "She's really good at that- always makes sure I have plenty of food. Will... I be eating with you? Or do I have to report to the mess hall for that?"

"To remain most subtle, I think we should have you eat in the mess hall for now," Vader nods. "The Cadets all have a lunch break at the same time, and I'm almost certain the people they work for will want time without them."

"Okay cool- that's okay, we have plenty of time," Ruhn shrugs. "And it's only half an hour anyway. We have the whole rest of the program time to be together."

Ruhn only has about twenty minutes to settle in and familiarize himself with the Imperial networking before he and Vader launch into busy day. He takes notes for Vader at trade route meetings, conference calls with Senators, and even helps him with reminders and things of that nature when a member of the Imperial military comes to submit a mission report.

"Why do they report to you, if Cody is like their... well he's still Marshal Commander." Ruhn asks.

Vader nods, "Correct- but I like to have the copies as well, especially since I still closely deal with the clone program."

"Have... you made more?" he asks carefully.

"Yes," Vader nods. "There is... new testing, going on. I'm not quite sure of the scope of the testing, but it is happening. And growing quickly. Hence, Hemlock also needing a Cadet from this program."

"I don't like him," Ruhn admits.

"Neither do I."

"Then why does he work here?"

Vader raises a brow. "Some things are still beyond my control. It is above me- it's in Sidious' hands. He needs it for his own special program, it has nothing to do with the Imperial military. We've been outsourcing to volunteers who want to be a part of the Empire. Clones are going into retirement."

Ruhn shakes his head. "But... why? And- is Cody... is he still chipped?"

"Cody is not." Vader confirms. "But some are. Scorch is Hemlock's main helper- he is still chipped."

"What about Crosshair?"

"Crosshair... he- that's more complicated."

Ruhn frowns. "But you won't get into it, will you?"

"Not today." Vader shakes his head. "Maybe a different time. Do you have the meeting notes for me? From earlier today?"

"Yeah-" Ruhn pulls them up and forwards the to Vader's datapad. "There you go. I organized them and color-coded and everything. Labeled meeting times too. I... should probably go to lunch now." He stands, ready to leave with his lunchbox.

"Wait," Vader stops him, "I'm the fucking face of this Empire- and I say you can stay for lunch. I want non-business time with my son, and I'll deal with anyone who tries to punish you for staying," he says softly.

Ruhn smiles and sits back down. "Okay, yeah. I uh- I gotta call my mom though. She wanted me to just do check-ins."

"That's alright. I'll be quiet, I promise. Or we can act like she's... just a random mother and I can brag about you," he winks.

"Oh," Ruhn laughs, "Well I guess you could do that, yeah. Have to put your helmet on though."

"I know. That's alright." Vader shrugs. "I'd like to speak to her anyway."

Ruhn nods and dials your extension as he unzips his lunch bag, putting you on speaker again. Next to him, Vader slips his helmet on in anticipation of speaking with you.

“Hi baby,” I answer as I sit at my own desk, filling out my reports, “how are you doing, bug?”

[medicillin]

First Aid had prepped for days but nothing felt good enough. The engex she’d chilled didn’t feel cold enough, the flat didn’t feel clean enough, she didn’t feel put together enough.

She was working full time as a CNA at a small local clinic in Kaon. After her track record, Ratchet’s recommendations hadn’t mattered much in getting her back on her pedes after she’d left the Lost Light. Too many had talked, and not enough had given her the benefit of the doubt. But, recovering Kaon had taken pity on her with the stipulation that she worked as an aid and nothing more.

How would Pharma view her now? Washed up, strung out on her own stress and lack of recharge with cheap domestic engex out in her counter…she was definitely something. Or maybe she was just being too hard on herself.

She opened the door tentatively at first, spark on the defense as she slowly trailed up to meet the optics of the mech she’d destroyed. Her servos had-

First Aid cleared the bitter static from her intake.

Not today. No, not today.

She cautiously opened the hatch the rest of the way and glanced down the corridor, frowning behind her mask when she realized he was alone. She expected an entourage, seeing as how his sudden revival was the source of much public suspicion and fascination.

“AHA- N-No you made it to the right place!” She fumbled over her words, internally kicking herself when she strayed the obvious.

The little medic blocked the doorway for a beat too long before shuffling out of the way with an awkward little wave. “Oh, uh…come in! It’s not much, but it’s…it’s what gets me by! I have engex chilling-“ First Aid groaned, mortified, when she remembered Pharma didn’t drink. “Slag, I forgot you’re…it’s fine I can grab something else. Make yourself at home, there’s a datapad next to the berth if you’d like to read…eh…something.”

First Aid’s quarters at the Kaon clinic were modest at best. She owned a single chair, a small, tidy desk with a few thin texts imported from off-world, and a cold berth. She’d grabbed a tiny refrigerator from a sale at the local market, but she didn’t have much in it. It seemed she was surviving on clinic rations.

She finally dug out a pathetically tiny bottle of liquid energon, bringing it over and leaning against the wall aside her desk. “So how,” she mulled around for an icebreaker. “You’re alive. That’s an improvement. Eh- haha.”

continued: x , x // @medicillin

She actually responded? She actually responded. He really hadn't expected that. And now he wasn't so sure what to think.

After a few small back and forth discussions on possible meet up locations, they decided on First Aid's current whereabouts (which was a relief, since Pharma's place was an absolute disaster as of right now.)

After all this time, reconnecting certainly was a bit daunting. So much had changed. Pharma wasn't exactly in his best condition, and he knew that. But the urge to hide himself away was less than the urge to reconnect to someone who knew the experiences, who understood, who was there.

Once she opens the door, he gives an awkward expression. "....Well. Glad I made it to the right place. I got a little lost back there, didn't wanna knock on any wrong doors."

[calamity-aims]

Hiii Cal how about “You need to stop this. I can’t watch you burn yourself out anymore.” which just speaks of Fox

Thorn is furious.

Thorn is furious, and the whole of the Coruscant Guard knows.It's hard to miss, given that it's so infrequent. Thorn's anger is rare but all the more vicious for it; Fox always said he just saved it up until one day he'd blow his bucket straight off from the pressure.

Jokes like that probably won't land now, though. Not unless Fox wants to add more broken bones to his tally.

"Commander Thorn," he says, flat as anything. "Aren't you supposed to be on sleep shift? I have you down as-"

"Don't fuck with me, Fox," Thorn warns, and snatches Fox's datapad neatly out of his hands.

Fox snaps, "Thorn, what the hell."

Immediately he knows it's the wrong thing to say.

"What the hell? You're damn right what the hell! You-" and here he levels an accusing finger at Fox- "You were literally trampled in that riot, Hedge said you had six broken bones, and now I find out you've been working for two straight shifts?"

"None of my fingers were broken," Fox tries, "So I can still sign off-"

"Shut UP," and Fox does. Thorn braces both his hands against Fox's desk and lets his head hang low, sweaty blond curls dangling down. Exhaustion curves the lines of his spine. There's a few new scratches and dents along the red-painted pauldrons - those will have to be painted over soon. The senators don't like their clones to look scruffy.

When Thorn speaks, his anger's drained away, leaving only a tired sort of pleading in his voice. “Fox. You need to stop this. I can’t watch you burn yourself out anymore.”

"I-" Fox starts. Stops.

It's not like he wants to be here, sat at his desk while his broken bones ache and a migraine pulses through his eyesocket and down to his teeth. But he'd been warned, hadn't he, a comm message from the Chancellor blinking on his HUD the instant he'd woken up in the medbay.

[CC-1010: Coruscant Security Force has reported the failure of your troopers at the most recent riot. If handling your responsibilities is too much, I am more than happy to appoint members of the CSF to direct supervisory positions over the Coruscant Guard.]

Fox can't let that happen. He'll work himself to death before he lets some bozo from the CSF have any more power over his Guards. They already abuse what power they do have, pushing cases and patrols that they don't want to do off on the Corries. Throwing their weight around, ordering his Corries to run stupid little errands, to stand still while they push them around. Or worse.

Fox doesn't even want to know what they'll do with direct power over him - they've tried it before, but he's managed to stand his ground. For now.

Thorn's still slumped in front of him. He works hard, just as hard as Fox does. They all work double shifts most days, they're all sleep deprived, they're all usually a little injured, be it in the line of duty or just a mean-spirited Senator. Fox doesn't want to burden Thorn any more than he already is, but he's running out of options.

"The Chancellor's displeased with our current performance," he says finally. "If I can't handle this, he'll put us under the command of the Coruscant Security Force."

He doesn't need to tell Thorn exactly how terrible that would be - his commander's face goes pale and worried.

"Can he do that?" Thorn croaks. Fox shrugs.

"Does it matter?" The Chancellor does what he pleases. Ultimate power and all that. Technically the Guard should be under the purview of the Jedi, but somehow that's not what happened -Jedi didn't want the added responsibility, maybe. Too busy with the real soldiers.

That's fine. Fox can handle this. He's been handling this. They'll be fine.

Fox just needs to keep working.

[mosylufanfic]

Making Contact

This was supposed to be a sexy story about Cassian getting a massage from Jyn and actually relaxing for once in his life. What the hell, me.

 Making Contact

When the door swished open in front of him, a gentle trio of chimes announced his entry. The girl at the desk looked up. "Hello, Mr. Sward! Welcome. You have an appointment with - um - "

"Kestrel," he said.

"Kestrel, right." She  checked her screen and tapped something. "Okay, she's just finishing up her last client. You're down for the basic package today. Any interest in upgrading to the full experience?"

"No," he said flatly. 

"Well, if you're sure," she said. "It's funny, she only works a couple of days a week and you're the only person who ever requests her."

"She's good," he said.

"Oh, well, I guess,” she said doubtfully. “But some of our other clients say she's bitchy."

"I don't care how bitchy she is, as long as she can get these knots out of my back," he said stiffly,  and sat down in the waiting room with a datapad in his hand. 

A few minutes later, a bored voice said, "Joreth."

He looked up. Kestrel slouched against the front desk. "Hi," she said disinterestedly. "This way." Without waiting, she took off down the hall. 

He tucked his datapad away and followed her.

The room was just like all the others, a square box with dim lighting. It had a little table with a rack of different oils and lotions mounted on the wall, and a large, flat bed with a donut-shaped head. In one corner of the room was a privacy screen, currently folded flat against the wall. 

Sitting on the table next to the rack of lubricants was a music player, playing a soft, formless mix of woodwinds and bells. It was perfectly calculated to make your brain melt if you tried to follow any kind of melody within it. 

"No music, please," he said, and she reached over to swat the player off. 

"Fucking tinkly bantha crap," Jyn Erso muttered.

-

"I'm not licensed or anything," she'd said back at base. "Not that a place like that would check. And I didn't do the other stuff. But I picked up enough to do decent massages."

"From the sounds of this place, it'll require the sex work," Draven said with his characteristic bluntness. 

She shook her head. "See how there's the basic package and the full package, and then premium? The places I worked all had different terminology, but it's easy enough to figure out. Basic will just be a massage, nothing else. Cheap option for people who can't afford more reputable places. The full is probably a handjob, maybe blowjob. Premium, full-on sex. Most of the girls won't want to do the basics. They don't pay as much. The new girl always gets stuck with all those." She shrugged. "I usually stuck around until I couldn't avoid doing handjobs anymore and then I was out."

Draven nodded. He'd sent operatives into sex work before, but it wasn't his first choice. And certainly not with a brand-new recruit like Jyn Erso. "Cassian?" he said. "Your mission, your call."

Cassian looked at Jyn, who nodded at him. She could handle it. Could he?

"No problem," he said.

-

She'd gotten the job at the massage parlor a few streets down from the Imperial base without any issue. Like she said, girls came and went, and they didn't check licenses. The system of packages worked just like she'd said, too, as well as the tendency for the new girl to get all the basic ones.

All in all, Jyn had no problems settling into her spot as his contact and the courier for his information off-planet, as well as a secondary source of information gathering.

To his surprise, Cassian was the one with the problem.

Stripping off his clothes always made him tense and uneasy. He pulled the screen and Jyn always made a point of waiting outside the door, but neither of them could do anything about the cameras around the room. 

"For our protection," Jyn had said, with a twist of her lip that communicated it was so the bosses could spot any off-the-books sexual contact. And maybe also for porn and blackmail purposes.

But for him, it brought back memories of shucking his prison clothes under the bored eyes of the guards and standing naked in a room full of other men. He gritted his teeth and folded the clothes to have something to focus on besides his vulnerability.

Getting on the table with only a thin towel covering his ass was worse. He was naked, face down, with his back to the door. Textbook don't fucking do this, if spies had textbooks. His skin shivered, waiting for unseen knives to slice it open. His stomach clenched.

"How unusual would it be to keep some clothes on?" he'd asked as they were planning. 

"Very," she said, grimacing with apology. "If it was just me, I wouldn't say anything, but if there are cameras. . . ."

And there were. So naked it was. Except for the towel. 

Jyn knocked briskly, rat-a-tat, and waited until he said, "yes." Then she came in, locking the door behind her. 

It was easier with her there. His skin stopped trying to crawl off his bones, but his stomach still tangled into knots upon knots.

"How's the back today?" she asked. A click as she uncapped an oil bottle. Unscented. Some kind of warming reaction against his skin.

"It's been better," he said.

He also hated using his back as the excuse to go see her. Advertising his chronic pain like that felt like wearing a neon sign that yelled HIT HERE. But it had the benefit of being true, and he could use the excuse of a bad pain day to go see her on an emergency basis. 

And the discussion of his "back" was a perfect cover for a general check-in on how the mission was going. 

"Same old spots?" The same people giving you trouble? 

"Spreading a little."

She grunted. "I'll do what I can." She'd pass it along. 

She started with his upper back, small warm hands with a slick of oil on the palms, flattening themselves over his shoulder blades, working down his back.

I'm here, that first long, slow touch said. It's just me. You know me. I've got you.

The stroke of her hands down the line of his back, and then back up, started to undo the knots in his stomach. The way she positioned herself between him and the door also helped. 

"You've got tension here," she observed as she worked over the middle of his back. 

He always did, but as her thumbs worked at a knot, he felt it uncoiling itself, slithering away like a venomous snake going into hiding.

She shifted to using her fists against his lower back, pressing her scarred, beat-up knuckles into the stiffness wrapped around his spine and dragging it away. 

The first time she'd done that, he realized she'd talked to the PT staff on-base before they left, because it was their technique. It wasn't like he could ask her aloud to confirm. But just the thought made him warm inside. 

His stomach was soft now, settled. 

"I'm going lower," she said. 

In another setting - in most of the rooms in this parlor - it would have been a sexy come-on. Here it was a heads-up. 

"All right."

Her hands smoothed down over his waist, to his hips. Her thumbs stroked firmly over the knotted muscles that fed from his back into his ass. Her fingers slipped under the towel, careful not to knock it away. He almost wished she would, because it felt more intimate to feel her hand sliding under his only covering. 

It wasn't the way he wanted Jyn's hands there, but still, his cock twitched under him. 

"It'll happen some time or another," she'd said briskly. "It doesn't have to be awkward. I'm not going to take it personally. "

"A basic physical reaction to stimulus," he'd agreed.

It had all seemed very straightforward, an adult agreement that bodies did what bodies would do. But here in the dim room, with Jyn's hands on him, his body thought they were here for something else.

Bodies didn't know the difference between possibilities and wishful thinking.

As she worked his gluteal muscles, loosening them, softening them, his unruly cock pressed harder into the table. She'd notice soon. As matter-of-fact as she'd been, he still didn't want to reveal his reaction. 

He made himself think of a particularly bad mission once. Blood. Bodies. Smoke. Stench.

"Hey," she said, because maybe the mission had been too bad to think of, and she'd felt the tension knot up his back again. She flattened her hand over the worst of his surgical scars, the ones that even the best bacta couldn't completely erase. "You with me?"

Aren't I always? he thought, but just gave a soft grunt of assent and focused on his breathing instead. In. Hold. Out.

Breath. Her hands. The lock on the door. The oil warming his skin. 

I'm with you.

The remnants of the memory and of his hard-on subsided. 

"Better?"

"Yes."

"We've got about fifteen minutes in our session," she said. "Unless you want me to go back over anywhere, I'll work your legs."

"That's fine." 

She adjusted the towel over his ass again and shifted down the table. 

"I might have to go off-planet to a surgery center," he said as she pressed the heel of her hand just behind his left knee. "If they can get me in. I'm waiting to hear. Might not have much notice."

Her hands paused for a split second, then continued working. "Well, if that happens, don't forget to cancel your appointment."

"I won't," he promised.

She worked down to his calves, his ankles, his feet. He shut his eyes and gave himself over to the unspeakable luxury of being touched and tended to by someone he lo-

Trusted.

Someone he trusted.

And as hard as everything else was, this was almost too easy.

-

"Better watch out," Kaila said as Jyn came up to the front desk to clock out for her lunch break. "That guy's in love with you."

The waiting room was empty, but she nodded out the glass front door to Cassian, climbing into a speeder cab.

It caught Jyn off guard. "Who? What?" She barely remembered to use his alias. "Joreth?"

She waggled her brows at another of the girls, just coming in from her lunch hour. "Joreth, is it."

"Everyone calls their clients by their first names." Half of them were probably aliases. “You do,” she said to Samai.

“I call my two o’clock Lieutenant, because that’s what he wants,” she said absently, leaning over to check her own schedule. “And nobody says their names the way you say his."

"I don't say his name like anything. He's a client."

Kaila grinned conspiratorially at Samai. "Ever heard him say her name? I 'forget' every time I check him in just so I can hear it." She fluttered her lashes and deepened her voice to a sexy purr. "Kestrel."

"Shut up,” Jyn said. “He's not in love with me. He just likes the way I use my elbows." The datacard he'd left under the towel seemed to burn against her breast. "I'm going on my lunch."

"Gonna meet him for a quickie?” Samai said. “You know if the boss catches you fucking your clients off the clock, he'll have your head."

"I'm not meeting anyone," she yelled over her shoulder. "And Joreth Sward is not in love with me!"

FINIS

[rowansparrow]

Until the Stars Burn Out

(Art by @/space-b33)

**This fic is rated 18+, Minors do NOT interact or you will be blocked**

Summary: You are one of the many rebels who serve in the Dantooine rebellion, and after a bad injury leaves you out of commission, two of your fellow soldiers take it upon themselves to take care of you. 

Rating: Explicit (smut, graphic sexual content, piv sex, oral sex, alien sex, graphic description of injury, the whole shebang)

Ships: Fives x Quill x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.3k

A/N: Hello hello! I took a brief break from other writing projects to do this little gift for @witchklng​. Not only is Madly’s birthday coming up, but they haven’t been feeling so great the last few weeks, and I thought maybe this would help lift their spirits. :) I love ya, pal. I hope you enjoy this! 

This has literally so much plot I’m so sorry I got very carried away.

This takes place with in the Rose-verse, or the BAON Universe, or however you like to think of things lmao. 

Sensitive content is tagged #Ro’s Protected Tag. Please block that tag if you are concerned about content.

Reblogs are so appreciated!

“This is bullshit and you know it!”

You slammed your hands down on the desk, but Athena Brisbane didn’t even so much as lift her eyes from the ‘pad she was looking over, scrolling absently even as you fumed in front of her.

“I’m ready to go back in the field, General! We need all the hands we can get out there!”

“And we need plenty of hands here, as well.” Athena replied, finally dragging her eyes up from the datapad and setting it aside with a sigh. She leaned forward, folding her hands under her chin and resting her elbows on the desk. “Look, I know you want to get back out there, but what good are you going to do us if you’re barely strong enough to take care of yourself?”

“I’m fine!”

“No.” Athena said plainly. “You aren’t.”

“My arm’s practically healed, there’s no need to -.”

“I’m not worried about your body.” Athena responded calmly. “I’m worried about what’s been going on in that head of yours.”

You seethed, barely able to keep your anger in check. “General Brisbane,” You said through gritted teeth. “You only have two Captains, me and Sho’cye. A lot of your men don’t trust him to lead them yet.” You jabbed your thumb into your chest. “But they trust me. They’re counting on me to get back out there, to lead!”

“Captain Sho’cye is perfectly capable of handling the men in your absence.” Athena replied, giving you a stern look. “I told you already once: Rex and the others are our allies. It’s time you put your faith in them as well.”

“I do.” You protested. “It’s just – how long are you going to keep me sidelined?”

“As long as it takes for you to heal. And to get your head on straight again.” She added, narrowing her eyes at you. “I won’t lose any more of my men just because you’re too trigger happy to get back out there.”

The comment stung, and Athena must’ve seen it written on your face, because she sighed again, standing up and coming around the desk to face you directly. She put her hands on your biceps, holding you firmly in place for a moment.

“You’re one of our best warriors.” She said gently. “And that’s why we need you at one hundred percent. We can’t afford to lose you because you’re pushing yourself before you’re ready.” She dropped her hands. “You aren’t going on any more missions until Soteria’s cleared you, and that’s final.”

“So what do you expect me to do in the meantime?” You demanded.

“Guard rotations if you must, but I’d prefer it if you just kept your nose clean and took this time to rest.” Athena replied, already settling back into her chair and picking up the datapad again. “Don’t bother me with this again. Until Soteria’s cleared you for combat, I don’t want to hear from you.”

She waved her hand in dismissal, and you stewed in front of her desk for a few moments longer before storming out, making sure to slam the door roughly behind you.

Your feet carried you to the public refresher just down the hall of the Command Center, with a few scattered rebels giving you salutes and skittering out of your way at the absolute fury written across your face. When you made it to the ‘fresher, you slammed the door behind you once again, storming over to the sinks and banging your fists against the counter, grunting in frustration as the thunk-clang of your two opposing hands hit the metal.

You panted for a moment, willing yourself to calm back down as you slowly dragged your eyes up to the mirror, forcing yourself to look at your own reflection.

The explosion you’d endured months earlier had gnarled the entire right side of your body. You could see the burn scars poking out from your tunic top, creeping up your neck and along your jaw, the whisps of the scarring curving up around your cheekbone and nearly to your eye.

You pounded your fists again. Thunk-clang.

You’d been lucky to have a cybernetic arm at all, with all the nerve damage that had been done in the explosion that had killed all your men but you. And Soteria had told you that you’d been lucky to keep both your legs as well. The scarring was gruesome, and you knew it continued down your neck to your shoulder and across your back and torso, down your legs and twisting your skin. You were grateful you were able to cover most of it with your clothing. But you could only hide so much of it.

You’d spent weeks in bacta tanks, physical therapy, prosthetics fittings, every fucking medical procedure imaginable. You’d seen more of the inside of Soteria’s hospital wing than anyone else on this gods-forsaken planet. Even though you felt perfectly fine now, and your wounds had healed and you’d completed your mandated physical therapy and retraining, Athena was still refusing to allow you back onto the battlefield.

Losing your men had been hard – and so too had the damage that was done to your body, ravaged and changed forever. But you weren’t crazy, you wouldn’t have some psychotic, PTSD-induced breakdown, or whatever it was that Athena was so worried about.

You had so little rebels for the cause. You couldn’t fathom why Athena wouldn’t just let you help.

You composed yourself, sighing quietly as you straightened back up, the tight, scarred-over skin on the burned half of your body protesting your movements slightly. You hadn’t applied medicine in a day or two, and the old wounds were flaring up with pain on occasion.

Reluctantly, you exited the refresher, trudging through the Command Center until you made your way to the main street.

The marketplace was filled with small vendors and stalls, and with a growl your stomach reminded you that you hadn’t eaten yet that day either, and perhaps it would be wise to stop and pick up something in the market for food before you headed home.

You parsed through your credits, stopping at the first vendor you came upon and buying a smattering of fruits and vegetables. What you’d do with them, you had no idea, your mind still too preoccupied with your conversation with Athena to really focus on what you were doing.

A little girl caught your eye a few stalls down, and you lifted your head. She was small, coming up maybe to your hip at most, but she had massive green ears sticking out on either side of her head. She was holding the hand of a man – a clone, you recognized his face, despite the scars dividing it – and weaving through the busy market with him. You knew the man was the Outlander, he’d been a scourge on the Rebellion until Athena had inexplicably allowed him into the village. Sometimes you just didn’t understand your leader, but you trusted her judgement even if you didn’t trust the stranger.

The little girl turned to look up at him, saying something excitedly to him and tugging on his hand, and the smile he gave her was soft, fatherly, and so sweet that you had to look away.

Maybe he wasn’t all bad.

Your thoughts were interrupted by someone calling your name.

You turned towards the sound, absently thanking the shopkeeper as she handed you your bundle of goods, and you stood at attention when you recognized the man coming towards you.

“Commander Cawthon, sir!” You greeted, saluting Athena’s right-hand man. “I didn’t realize you were planetside again, sir.”

“At ease.” Quill Cawthon chuckled, reaching for your hand and clasping it gently in his own. He’d grabbed your metal arm instead of your flesh one, but if he noticed, he didn’t react to it. “I’ve been meaning to check in on you, old friend. It’s been quite some time.”

You bristled slightly. “There’s no need to worry about me, sir.” You replied coolly. “Besides, I’m sure you’ve been kept busy.”

Quill’s tendrils twitched, and you cursed yourself inwardly. No doubt the Nautolan had sensed your change in mood (although in fairness, you guessed anyone with half a brain would know you were more pissed than calm these days). But Quill, to his credit, made no further comment, and you changed the subject.

“Your latest mission, was it a success?”

Quill chuckled again, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. “Something like that.” He flashed you a grin. “I trust Athena briefed you?”

“No.” You admitted, trying to rein in the anger mounting in your chest again. “No, she’s been leaving me out of things since I’ve – since I’m not active duty at the moment.”

“Ah, well allow me to fill in the blanks.” Quill said cheerfully. He regaled you with the story of going undercover in a club to obtain encoded information from an Empire operative, and you couldn’t help your smile. It was nice to feel included again, and Quill held nothing back. He wasn’t walking on eggshells around you, nor was he doing this to appease you.

“Any casualties?” You asked when Quill had given you the rundown of the mission.

“No, though we had a close call.” Quill replied. “Though thankfully, he seems to be making a swift recovery.” He turned slightly over his shoulder, and then his tendrils flicked again, abruptly turning back to you. “Forgive me, I’ve been terribly rude. I don’t believe you’ve met my partner.”

Partner. Well, that was certainly an unexpected and new development. A small part of your heart twisted at the news. “No, no I haven’t.” You replied.

Quill turned again, calling to someone over his shoulder, and you peeked around him. You spotted another clone dressed in civvies, the shadow of a bruise across his cheek – no doubt from the latest mission. He was handsome, with thick, dark curls tickling the back of his neck where they’d grown out. He’d clearly been in the middle of stuffing his face with something, because when he turned toward Quill’s voice, his cheeks were puffed up like a jooperfish. Beside him was the little green girl from earlier, her cheeks equally full of whatever they’d been eating, and she snatched a bag of something out of his hands and scampered back to the Outlander before the clone could react.

You hadn’t pictured Quill as the type to have a serious partner. Sure, he was kind, open, and very well-loved by the village, but you never really saw him as someone who would settle down with anyone in particular – even more surprising that his apparent partner was one of the clones who’d arrived with Captain Sho’cye’s troop and allied himself with the Outlander.

Immediately, you didn’t trust the stranger. Especially not around someone as gentle and trusting as Quill.

You frowned, sizing up the clone as he walked closer, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He swallowed whatever it was he’d been eating, licking powdered sugar from the corner of his lips as he sidled up next to Quill, smiling adoringly up at the Nautolan.

“Who’s this?”

You introduced yourself before Quill could, offering your hand to shake. “And you are?”

The clone was just as perceptive of Quill, and you caught the brief look of distrust in his eye before he took your hand. “Fives.” He introduced himself.

“A pleasure.” You replied, not at all meaning it. “I’m one of the rebel captains.”

“Funny, I’ve never heard of you.” Fives drawled back, shaking your hand anyway.

You ignored the barb, instead electing for a cool smile. “Well, it’s good we’ve finally met. I like to know the men who will be serving under me.”

“Under you?” Fives barked a laugh. “I report to Captain Sho’cye, no one else.”

“Not even General Brisbane, or our Commander Cawthon here?” You shot back. “Awfully disloyal for someone who was welcomed with open arms, despite throwing in with that Outlander scum -.”

“Alright, play nice, both of you.” Quill stepped in and turned a stern eye to Fives. “Must you pick a fight with everyone I introduce you to?”

“She started it.” Fives muttered under his breath.

If Quill heard him, he ignored him. “The Captain has been recovering from some serious injuries, which is why you haven’t had the opportunity to meet before now.” Quill said. “But she is one of our finest warriors, and Athena trusts her implicitly.”

Quill turned his stern gaze to you. “Athena also trusts Fives, as do I, and we trust the rest of his companions as well. They are a welcome addition to the village. I hope I’ve made myself clear.”

“Of course, sir.” You said, stiffening at once and saluting him. “My apologies, I overstepped.”

Quill’s easy smile returned at once, and he clapped his hands together. “Good. Well, it’s been lovely getting to catch up with you, Captain. I trust you’ll be rejoining us in the field soon?”

Don’t count on it. “I’m sure I will, sir.” You said instead, offering him another salute. Quill returned it in kind, and offered his arm to Fives. You watched as the trooper hooked his arm through Quill’s, and the two of them continued their stroll through the market.

You watched them over your shoulder, a bitter feeling settling in your chest.

~

“I’m sorry.” Soteria’s voice was sheepish, avoiding your ire. “You know I can’t give you approval to return to the field, yet.”

“Why not!” You groused, yanking your tunic top back on. “I’m perfectly fine! My injuries have healed, you’ve said so yourself.”

“Athena won’t approve it until she’s certain your mental state can -.”

“My mental state is fine.” You snapped back. “I’m tired of sitting around being useless.”

“I’m sorry.” Soteria said again. “My hands are tied.”

You sighed, pushing yourself roughly off the observation table and heading back out to the main room of the small medical practice. It had been three days since your last conversation with Athena, and still there was no sign of you getting to go back to battle any time soon.

You had stubbornly not been using your medication on your burn injuries, and they once again protested the sharp movements your body made as you stormed towards the exit. You were so focused on leaving that you almost missed the other Captain sitting in the waiting room.

He’d called your name almost tentatively, then louder when you didn’t seem to hear him, and you stopped.

“Oh, Captain Sho’cye.” You mumbled. “Forgive me, I’m a bit distracted.”

“No problem.” Rex said, awkwardly rising to his feet and wiping sweaty palms on his trousers. He seemed uncharacteristically nervous.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked him suddenly. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

You cursed the small part of you that hoped he was hurt, so Athena would have no choice but to put you back on missions.

“No, no I’m alright.” Rex said hurriedly. “It’s my – well, my um, my – partner.” He settled on the word finally, rubbing the back of his head as though he wasn’t sure what to call her. “She’s – we’re expecting a child.”

Dimly, you recalled having been given this information before, but at the time, you hadn’t cared to get to know the clone Captain much, still not trusting him after aligning himself with the Outlander Gol’Chek, who had been the rebellion’s enemy for so long.

“Oh.” You said dumbly, glancing around the waiting room. “Where is she?”

“Refresher.” Rex said. “It’s just a routine checkup. Everything’s fine.” He almost sounded like he was trying to reassure himself more than answer a question you hadn’t asked.

You tried to make polite conversation. If you wanted to go out on missions again, you’d have to learn to work with the clones sooner or later. “How far along is she?”

“Just over twenty-three weeks.” Rex said, a small smile on his face. “It’s a boy.”

He sounded almost relieved to share the information, and you wondered if he’d been able to tell many people yet. You offered him a small smile in return. “Congratulations.”

Before Rex could continue, Quill stepped out of one of the neighboring rooms, thanking a medic over his shoulder. When he caught your eye, he beamed. “Ah, what a pleasant surprise, my two Captains in the same place.”

“Commander Cawthon.” You saluted him, and Quill waved you off. “Are you hurt, sir?”

“No, regrettably, this is for Fives.” He said, holding up a small jar of bacta. “We ran out.”

Rex suddenly looked guilty, clearing his throat and stepping back to the waiting area while you and Quill exited together.

“I’m sorry to hear he’s still hurting.” You told the Nautolan.

“No you aren’t.” Quill replied.

“I am, sir.”

“Please.” Quill chuckled. “Even if I couldn’t taste the disdain in the air, it wouldn’t take a clever man to know you don’t care much for Fives.” He tilted his head to the side. “May I ask why?”

You hesitated, not wanting to overstep. “Are you sure he isn’t just sleeping with you to earn your trust?” You blurted out.

To your surprise, instead of chastising you, Quill laughed.

“I assure you that isn’t the case.”

“How do you know, sir?”

“Because I came on to him.” Quill said, flashing you a grin. “And have you forgotten?” He flicked a tendril towards you pointedly. “One’s true intentions are not easily hidden from me.”

You relaxed, but only marginally. “I suppose you’re right, sir.”

“Speaking of which, I can sense your anger. It’s all I can taste when you enter a room.” Quill mused. “You want to go back out into the field, yes?”

“More than anything, sir.” You said emphatically.

“You need to be able to trust the men we’re working with if you want to go on missions again.” Quill told you. “Let me prove to you that Fives is someone worth knowing. Will you join us for dinner?”

“No, no I couldn’t impose.”

“You’re no imposition. Besides,” His tendril curled around your bicep as you walked. “Your anger is not the only thing I can sense.” His expression turned gentle. “You’re in pain.”

“It’s nothing.” You dismissed quietly. “It’s just… things are different now, I suppose.”

“Understandably so.” Quill agreed. “Nevertheless, let us help you.”

Quietly, you agreed, reluctantly following Quill back to his home instead of yours.

~

Quill pushed open the door first, holding it open so you could step inside.

“Hey!” Fives’ voice called from the kitchen. “Welcome home, I’m almost finished. I can’t promise it’ll be exactly the same as the stuff the boys and I used to eat when General Skywalker took us to Dex’s, but I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten at least close with this -.”

He cut himself off, catching sight of you and Quill standing in the entryway to the kitchen. He put his hands on his hips.

“Why?”

“Be nice.” Quill chastised, stepping up to him and kissing the corner of his pout. “The Captain will be joining us tonight.”

“I gathered that. Why?” Fives repeated.

“Be. Nice.” Quill murmured, holding Fives’ chin and kissing him slowly. You looked away, heat creeping up the back of your neck and pooling in your stomach. Quill’s voice had always done something to you that you hated to admit.

Fives looked back to you, then turned his attention to the stove. “Hope you like nerf stew.” He mumbled, stirring the pot with a little more force than necessary.

Quill stepped up behind him, murmuring something in his ear that you couldn’t hear, his tendrils twisting around Fives’ arms and shoulders. The clone chuckled, tilting his head toward Quill. “Promise?”

“Only if you behave.” Quill said softly, pulling back from him and grabbing two bowls, getting one for you and one for Fives before returning for a third for himself.

You made idle if not awkward small talk over dinner, trying to understand why Quill had fallen in love with someone like Fives. To you, Fives still felt like the enemy, and despite his easy laugh and gentle smile, you had a hard time trusting him no matter what Quill said.

You were relieved when dinner was finished, and you stood to go with more abruptness than you intended, your injuries making you gasp as you stood.

“You’re in pain.” Quill noted at once, rising to his feet to steady you.

“I’m fine.” You muttered, trying to gently shrug him away.

“You most certainly are not.” Quill said, guiding you to the stairs. “Go on up, I’ll bring you some bacta momentarily.”

“Sir, I really shouldn’t -.”

“I insist.”

Well. You couldn’t say no to that.

You made your way up the stairs, taking in the bedroom. There was a holopic on the nightstand of Quill and Fives that you noticed almost immediately, with Quill beaming at the camera and Fives tucked under his arms, smiling just as wide. Clone armor was stacked neatly on one side of the room, near a separate set of drawers. It was clear that Fives had moved in with Quill, the two of them making a life together.

And the way they’d spoken at dinner. The gentle touches, the soft smiles and easy laughter…

That certainly didn’t seem like something an enemy operative would do if they just wanted easy information.

“Hey.”

You jumped, turning around quickly as Fives knocked his knuckles against the doorframe. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.” He said. “Just brought some bacta. Quill said you’re welcome to borrow one of his shirts to wear if you don’t want the stuff staining yours while it dries.”

“That’s kind of him.” You murmured, taking the bacta from Fives. The clone hesitated slightly.

“You… want some help?” Fives offered.

“Why do you want to help me?” You asked, though there was no malice in your voice.

“My brother’s got an arm like yours.” Fives explained. “He was blown halfway to hells too. I… know what you’re going through, a bit.” He shifted his feet. “Forget I asked.”

“It’s alright.” You said, waving him forward. “I suppose we might as well get used to this. We’ll be seeing a lot more of each other once I’m cleared for duty again.”

“That’s the spirit.” Fives hummed, sitting in front of you and unscrewing the lid of the bacta. He started with the burns along your neck and jaw, carefully dabbing bacta on his fingers and rubbing them delicately over your scarred skin. The position forced you to meet his eyes, and you found yourself swallowing. They were quite handsome eyes, big and doe-like, framed with thick dark lashes.

“So, what happened to you?” You asked him. “Wasn’t this bacta supposed to be for you?”

“Quill’s just a worrier, I’m fine.” Fives dismissed you, tugging slightly at your tunic. “Can I pull this down a bit?”

You nodded, opening up your tunic and partially shrugging it off to give him more room but keeping yourself as covered as you could. “Quill seems to care about you a great deal.”

“Yeah?” Fives chuckled, turning your head to the side so he could get at your collarbone. “I care about him too, despite what you may think.”

“I’m sorry.” You admitted quietly. “I know I come off… harsh.”

“Anyone ever told you that you’re like Athena?” Fives hummed.

A part of you swelled with pride at the comparison, but you quickly tamped it down. “I could never be like her.”

“You’re a lot like her.” Fives corrected with a soft laugh. He gave you a little smile. “See? I’m not so bad once you get to know me.”

“I’m sorry.” You said again.

“It’s alright. I get it.” Fives said, moving down your shoulders carefully with the bacta. “So… what happened to you?”

“There was an explosion.” You explained quietly, not wanting to elaborate. “I was the only survivor.”

“I see.” Fives resumed his careful ministrations.

“She won’t let me fight anymore.” You said finally. “Athena. She’s – she’s holding me back.”

“Maybe for good reason.”

“I just feel so… useless.” You said. “I should be doing more, I should be helping.” You looked down at your hands, flexing the metal fingers. “I’m nothing to her, to Quill, to anyone anymore.”

“I assure you that isn’t true.” Quill said from the doorway, stepping in fully. You jumped at the sight of him, and instinctively drew away from Fives, but Fives held you in place. “You’ve saved my life more times than I can count.” He settled down on the bed. “More than that, I consider us close.”

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes before you could stop them. “She doesn’t trust me anymore.” You whispered. “I lost all my men, I can’t even – I mean, look at me. I’m – I’m –.”

“You’re a survivor.” Fives cut you off, his hands stilling where they were covering you in bacta. “And don’t let anyone tell you different.”

You shook your head, still not believing it, and Fives pulled back from you, setting the bacta aside. He whispered something to Quill, and Quill took his place.

“May I do something for you?” He asked.

“What is it?” You asked, swiping at your tears. Quill reached out to cup the side of your face, brushing at a few of the traitorous tears with his thumb.

“I’m going to help you relax, if that’s alright.”

Before you could ask him more questions, Quill moved around behind you, wrapping his tendrils carefully around your body and holding you firmly against his broad chest. He held you close, and almost immediately, you could feel yourself beginning to relax. Your pain was dulled, and all the stress and tension in your body evaporated.

“There.” Quill rumbled quietly in your ear. “How’s that?”

Heat pooled low in your belly at the sound of his voice, and you pressed your thighs together, hoping Quill wouldn’t notice, but with the Nautolan so thoroughly wrapped around you, it was difficult to keep secrets.

He broached the subject carefully.

“Fives, darling.” He called to the other end of the bed where Fives was sitting. “Our friend could use some help. She needs to be… taken out of her own head, for the time being.”

Fives seemed to immediately pick up on what Quill was saying, and he raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Quill nodded, and Fives looked to you.

“What do you need?” He asked you gently.

And fuck, you suddenly became very aware of the situation: Your tunic was halfway off, Quill, who you admit had been the subject of numerous private imaginative sessions of your own, was holding you against his chest, and Fives’ handsome brown eyes had turned dark.

“What are you doing?” You asked instead of answering his question.

“We’re giving you the opportunity to unwind. To relax. To remind yourself that you are someone worthy of time and attention, no matter how serious your injuries or ailments may be.” Quill rumbled quietly. “Though, if you do not wish for this to proceed -.”

“No.” You said a little too quickly, and Fives’ eyebrow arched higher across from you. “No I – yes. I want you.” You said softly, turning your head towards Quill. “I want you. Both of you.”

Quill and Fives looked to one another for a moment over your head, and Quill reached for your tunic.

“May I remove this?”

You nodded, and Quill carefully eased it off while Fives pulled his own shirt over his head. You took a moment to admire him, the contours of his chest and abdomen, but also the large, fresh scar in the center of his torso.

Quill made a soft sound behind you, and Fives looked up at him. “I’m alright.” He assured his partner, leaning past you for a moment to kiss him. Then, he pulled back just enough to look at you. Tentatively, he leaned forward, catching your lips in his own.

Fives’ lips were surprisingly soft, and you fell into the kiss at once, all your worries about the clone forgotten. You shifted to wrap your arms around his bare shoulders once Quill had removed your tunic, and Fives deepened the kiss. You whimpered softly against his lips as he pushed you further back, his hands drifting to your breastband. He broke apart from you just long enough to push it up over your head, baring your chest to him.

He pulled back to look at you, and you shifted, trying to cover yourself better now that your cybernetic arm and scarring was completely exposed.

“Hey, none of that.” Fives stopped you, taking your wrist gently in hand and guiding it over his torso, littered in scars of his own. “You aren’t the only one who’s seen a war or two.”

Quill’s tendrils had twisted around your arms, and he trilled quietly in the back of his throat, the sound oddly comforting to you.

“C’mere.” Fives murmured, pulling you into his lap and nodding over your shoulder to Quill. You could hear the rustle of clothing behind you as Quill undressed, but your eyes were on Fives as the clone shifted you to lay back on the bed, against the pillows. “Eyes on me.”

You didn’t dare look away as Fives pressed his lips against your scarred cheek, then down your neck, his soft, warm lips leaving a trail down the evidence of your body’s traumas. His mouth ghosted over each breast, his tongue darting out to lick at your nipples. You gasped softly, your hand finding a home in his thick hair, holding his head against your chest.

Fives rolled his hips against yours, and you could feel his clothed erection straining against the fabric of his pants. The friction wasn’t enough, and you whimpered again, fumbling for your leggings while Fives quickly made a move for his trousers. Your movements had become hurried, desperate, and when Fives’ mouth found yours again, it was in a crash of lips and teeth and quiet groans as he hauled you up into his lap.

Your clit brushed against his dick as he sat you on his thighs, and you glanced down, shuddering at the sight of him. Long, thick, and already beading precum at the tip. Your mouth watered.

Fives chuckled. “You like what you see?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice at the moment, and Fives grinned, crashing his lips against yours again as his hand slipped down between the two of you. You gasped against his lips as his thumb found your clit, swiping between your soaked folds to collect your juices before dragging back up to the sensitive bundle of nerves and rubbing it with quick, vicious little strokes.

“Fives!” Your fingernails left crescents in his shoulders, but Fives didn’t seem to mind at all.

“C’mon baby, let’s see you come on my fingers first, yeah?” He purred, nipping lightly at your jaw. “Gotta loosen you up a bit before we can have any real fun.”

As he spoke, he slipped a finger inside you, and your mouth fell open in a silent moan.

“Be gentle, Fives.” Quill chided somewhere behind you.

“She can handle it. She wants it bad.” Fives chuckled, slipping a second finger inside you and curling them. “Looks like I finally figured out how to shut your smart mouth up.” He teased. “All it took was playing with your cunt.”

“Fives.” Quill scolded again. “Have a bit more couth than that.”

“What? You wanted to help her relax, and that’s what I’m doing.” Fives retorted, thrusting his fingers in and out of you. “Come on, darling, I can feel your pussy clenching on my fingers. You gonna come for me?” He leaned in close to your ear. “Or do you want Quill to watch? Yeah, is that it? You want Quill to watch the way you come on my fingers? You want him to see how pretty you look when I fuck you?”

Your whimper seemed to be answer enough for Fives, because he withdrew his fingers and spun you around so your back was against his chest, and he hooked his legs over your thighs, spreading them wide.

With one hand, he held your chin in place, forcing you to look at Quill while his other hand slipped back down between your legs, stroking your aching cunt and teasing your clit with every pass of his thick fingers. “Look at him.” Fives whispered in your ear. “You’ve thought about him before, haven’t you?”

Quill had undressed completely, his dark eyes trained on you as his tendrils flicked around him. One hand was down between his legs, fisting a pair of –.

Your brain short-circuited at the sight of Quill stroking himself. Gods, there were two of them.

The sight alone was enough to make you gasp, your stomach tightening as you bucked your hips into Fives’ hand, your orgasm cresting over you before you’d even fully realized what hit you, and you gushed into Fives’ hand.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” Fives praised quietly, bringing his hand up to his lips and licking a stripe through the mess on his palm. He chuckled softly, beckoning Quill closer. “C’mere, baby.”

You watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Quill wrapped his lips around Fives’ fingers, sucking your juices from his outstretched fingers.

“Fuck.” You groaned softly, a small aftershock rippling through you at the sight.

Quill chuckled quietly, bringing his head closer to yours and captured your lips while Fives held your chin up towards the Nautolan.

“Are you well?” Quill asked you gently, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. You nodded, tilting your head to the side and kissing his palm.

“I’m alright.” You promised, and rolled your hips back against Fives’ dick, making him swear quietly. “I want to keep going.”

Quill and Fives once again met each other’s eyes, a silent conversation passing between the two of them. Fives tilted your chin up, catching you in a heated kiss until Quill pulled you away, kissing you breathless right after him.

“Let us take care of you, little one.” Quill rumbled, guiding you back against the pillows. Quill propped himself up on one arm, laying beside you while Fives settled himself between your legs, wrapping your thighs around his hips.

“We’ll make you feel good.” Fives promised, a playful glint in his eye as he bent to press a kiss to each of your breasts again before rising to kiss the corner of your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your fingers tangling in the dark curls at the nape of his neck, and Fives leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. Slowly, you felt Quill’s hand sneak down your abdomen, his thick fingers pulling apart your folds and holding you open as the head of Fives’ dick pushed inside you.

You gasped at once, and Quill shushed you gently, using his free hand to hold your chin and tilt your face towards him, away from Fives for a moment.

“That’s it, it’s alright.” Quill soothed, giving you a soft, doting kiss while Fives pushed deeper inside of you. The Nautolan glanced to Fives. “How does it feel, love?”

“So kriffin’ good.” Fives panted, inching in as slow as he could manage. “Fuck, you’re so warm, so wet, so fuckin’ perfect. This perfect little pussy was made for my cock.”

You pulled his hair, spurning him on, and Fives sped up, thrusting forward with a bit more force than he’d intended, finally bottoming out. He drew back sinfully slow before pounding into you roughly again, making you gasp.

“Gently, Fives.” Quill scolded lightly, kissing along your jaw.

“You can be gentle on your turn.” Fives replied tightly. “I want to ruin her.”

Quill hummed, giving Fives a warning look out of the corner of his eye, but Fives only smirked, pulling back and thrusting roughly into you again. He picked up the pace, snapping his hips loudly against your thighs as he set a brutal pace. You threw your head back in a moan while Quill’s hand drifted away from the lips of your pussy and instead began rubbing your clit, his mouth trailing down to one of your breasts while Fives fucked into you mercilessly.

“C’mon, baby, say my name.” Fives whispered, adjusting the angle of his strokes to hit that deep place inside you that sent a coil of heat through your belly. “Tell me who’s fucking you this well.”

“Fives!” You groaned, crossing your ankles over his lower back and yanking him closer with every thrust.

One of Quill’s tendrils wrapped around your other breast, his cocks writhing in anticipation against your thigh while Fives rutted into you.

“Fives – Fives, I’m gonna come.” You whispered, each breath punched out of you with how hard he fucked you. “Gods, I’m gonna come.”

“Come on my cock, princess.” Fives chuckled while Quill played with your clit, his fingers moving with more precision than before. “Wanna feel your cunt squeeze my cock when you come.”

You nearly screamed at the combined sensations of Fives’ cock driving into you over and over again while Quill stroked your clit, and when you came, it washed over you with even more intensity than your first orgasm. Your juices squirted out around Fives’ dick as he fucked you through it, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Fuck – fuck I –.” He pulled out abruptly, coming across your stomach in short spurts, shaking slightly as he came down from his own high.

You’d barely caught your breath when you heard Quill chuckle, his surprisingly soft tongue gliding across your stomach, chasing Fives’ release across your skin. He gently pushed Fives aside, and you had to spread your legs wider to accommodate his massive size as he moved between your thighs.

“My turn.”

You whimpered softly, a shudder rippling through you as one of his cocks pushed into your fluttering pussy. The appendage wasn’t particularly thick, but it was long, and your mouth fell open as you felt Quill press further and further inside you, curling up towards your cervix as his cock made a home inside you.

“You’re doing so well, darling.” Quill praised. “You’re taking me so beautifully. Do you think you can handle another?”

You hesitated, your eyes wide as you felt the second of Quill’s cocks press against your folds, rubbing briefly against your clit in a way that sent shocks through your body.

“Trust me, sweetheart, there’s nothing like it.” Fives chuckled over Quill’s shoulder.

“Will it – will it fit?” You asked softly, and Quill shuddered, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before reopening them.

“I’m certain Fives has done a thorough job of opening you up for me, darling.” He cooed. “I’ll be very gentle.”

You nodded, and you felt the tip of Quill’s second cock push between your folds. You gasped, the burn of both his dicks inside you almost too much to bear until it slowly gave way to pleasure, Fives reaching between your bodies to apply a soft pressure to your clit, keeping you grounded as Quill pushed inside you.

“Shh, you’re doing so well. That’s it. Breathe for me, little one.” Quill praised, his tendrils curling around your arms and face as he loomed over you.

He kept to his word, and moved gently, slowly dragging his hips back before pushing into you again, but the way his cocks moved inside you – the way they twisted against one another, stroking the deepest parts of yourself in ways you’d never imagined before – was enough to send you careening towards the edge before he’d barely began to move.

“Quill.” You whimpered, your voice rising in pitch. “Quill – Quill, Fives, I -.”

Quill’s tendrils tightened around you, and you gasped again, arching your back off the bed as Quill moved a little faster.

“Oh – oh, oh gods, Quill – Fives!”

“Fuck, listen to her, baby.” Fives purred, leaning over you and smirking. “Bet she’s gonna come again any second.”

“Could you do that for me, little one?” Quill whispered to you. “Will you come for me? Let me feel your warmth around me, pretty girl. I want to feel you come undone.”

Fives flicked at your clit again, and Quill thrust particularly hard, and that was enough to send you over the edge.

You gasped, hands scrabbling for purchase on Quill’s broad body as you came for the third time that night, Quill letting out a strangled sound as your pussy clenched around his cocks. Fives cupped your cheeks, kissing you through your orgasm even as you trembled.

“That’s it baby girl, that’s it, you did amazing.” He murmured.

Fuck, your whole body felt like jelly. Quill pulled out of you, his tendrils uncurling from you at last, and you felt your own juices leaking from your pussy. Before you could even move to do anything, Fives dropped his head between your legs, the scratch of his goatee against your folds almost too much to bear as his thick tongue lapped at the mess, the tip catching on your clit with every pass.

“Fives,” You whimpered, fisting his hair and trying to drag his head back. “Fives – it’s t-too much.”

“Sorry.” Fives mumbled into your skin, reluctantly pulling back. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Come, little one.” Quill rumbled to your left, his strong arms gathering your body against his chest and carrying you to the other room. “Fives. The sheets?”

“On it.” Fives nodded, swinging off the bed and stripping it down behind you.

“Where’re we going?” You slurred, sleepy and sated.

“The shower. You need to be cleaned up.” Quill told you.

You could barely stand, your knees nearly buckling as Quill sat you down, but the Nautolan was gentle, holding you upright and gently washing you down as he stood under the spray of the shower with you. His tendrils curled in towards his body, and he tilted his face up to the water more than once, clearly relishing in the sensation.

You dimly registered Fives squeezing his way into the shower behind you, his firm body pressed against your back and his low voice echoing in the shower.

“Kriff, Quill, she’s nearly asleep already.” He chuckled. “We wore her out.”

“Good.” Quill murmured, clicking his tongue softly. “Gods know the last time she was able to get a decent night’s sleep.”

You leaned forward against Quill’s chest, and the Nautolan wrapped his strong arms around you, almost protectively.

You must have nodded off slightly in the shower, because the next thing you knew, Quill had redressed you in one of his shirts, so big on you that it nearly reached your knees, and he’d lain you down across the freshly made bed.

“I should go.” You murmured sleepily, your head already turning against the pillows.

“Nah, just stay.” Fives said, flopping down on your left side while Quill climbed in on the right. “It’s late, anyway.”

You hummed your assent, and you felt Quill trail his fingers gently down the scarred side of your face.

“I should consider myself lucky,” he murmured. “To have such a loyal captain so willing to go back into battle, despite all that has been stolen from her.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, sir. Until long after the stars have burned out.”

Quill chuckled, and reached around your hips to squeeze Fives’ hand. “Rest. Both of you.”

For the first time in a long time, sleep came easily.

~

Tagging just a few moots who may find this entertaining: @djarrex​ @space-b33​ @witchklng​ @literallydontlook​ @moonstrider9904​ @book-of-baba-fett​ @ladykatakuri​ @gotomarvelgal​ @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life​ @writingbylee​ @wild-karrde