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cc--2224 · 9 days

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I Told You So

Pairing: Tech x F!Reader

Summary: After a mission goes wrong, Tech realizes that you are more precious to him than he originally thought, and though he is upset that you didn’t listen to him, he is more upset that he nearly lost you. And he intends to finally do something about it.

Warnings: This is very much 18+ Minors do not interact! Slight canon typical violence and mentions of injuries in whatever plot this has, smut; oral - f receiving, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!!), porn with feelings, possessive Tech, slight praise kink? language

Notes: I don’t know where this came from, it has been a minute since I’ve written anything remotely spicy let alone an actual smut fic. But please let me know what you think!

Word Count: 5.5k

Taglist: None, let me know if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

Edit: Thank you all for the likes and reblogs!! I hope you enjoyed it 💚

"It is unwise for any of us to go out on our own, we should be working in teams of two." Tech pointed out as you were gearing up for your mission. You were to locate and rescue a Republic senator who had been imprisoned by the Separatists and bring them back to Coruscant.

"There's an odd number, we can't go in teams of two." You pointed out. "I can handle myself, I don't want to divide your squad."

Ever since you had teamed up with Clone Force 99, you had gotten to know them well, but you still felt like an outsider. In some ways, you were, but you never really felt like one of the team. It wasn't uncommon for you to be the odd one out for teamwork, and to you, this was no different.

In truth, you had always hoped to be partnered with Tech when you were given the briefing, but his talents were more complementary with one of his brothers. Ever since you met him, you were drawn to him, his brains, his demeanor, the way he lit up when speaking about something that interested him which ended up being nearly everything. He was handsome and skilled, and he welcomed you into the squad immediately, over the following months, you began developing feelings for him.

It never hindered your performance on missions, not only because you were never paired up with him, but you were good at compartmentalizing your feelings from your work. You wanted to get closer to him, but there never seemed to be a good time, and even if there was, you just didn't know how to bridge the gap.

"You can join Crosshair and myself, it will be safe for you." He suggested.

"We'll cover more ground in three groups. I'll be fine, I doubt there are even going to be any platoons that far out."

Tech shrugged, "Suit yourself. I will send you the coordinates for our rendezvous point. Keep your comm on."

You nodded and left the Marauder with your equipment.

You had no idea that this mission would be more dangerous than many you had encountered, but Tech knew, he always did.

As you approached the outskirts of the village, you saw a clear path straight through to the compound where you suspected the senator was held. It seemed a little too good to be true, there should have been droids out here, not full platoons, but someone keeping watch.

You drew your blaster to be safe, and crept onward, keeping an eye out for anything out of place. You could hear chatter over the comms of the others checking in with each other, and then you heard Tech say your name.

“All clear. As I said.”

Tech didn’t reply and you lowered the volume on your comm, still keeping it on, but not wanting to draw attention to yourself.

You had made it about halfway through the clearing when you saw blaster fire strike about ten paces to your left. You looked up, trying to see where it came from when you saw a platoon of B1s headed your way.

“Easy work.” You mumbled to yourself, aiming your blaster forward, shooting them as they neared you.

It was easy work at first, but there didn’t seem to be an end to them. When you’d shoot one, two more would appear, and before you could even disable a squadron of them, a tank appeared over the horizon.

“Kriff.” You said.

You considered calling for backup, but your pride couldn’t handle Tech telling you that he told you so, so instead you took a grenade out of your pack and threw it toward the platoon. It didn’t seem to damage the tank, but it at least got rid of the marching battle droids.

If you had raised your comm to ask for help, you would have heard Hunter say that the target was secure, and call for everyone to return to the ship, but you were the only one who didn’t check in.

“Tech, Crosshair, you two go find her. Wrecker and I will bring the senator back to the ship.” Hunter told them.

They left their post and headed to your last known location.

“Why didn’t she just join our team?” Crosshair finally asked.

“I did suggest it, but due to her stubborn nature, she was certain she would be fine on her own.” Tech’s tone indicated his annoyance. He wanted to be as annoyed as he sounded, but more than anything he was worried.

He liked having you around, you were always willing to listen to him prattle on about whatever topic was on his mind. You were kind, you treated him and his brothers well. The idea that you could be taken from them had never crossed his mind until now. Unlike you, he had no idea of the way he felt about you. He had rarely had feelings for anyone before, he didn’t know how it was supposed to feel. All he knew was that he didn’t want to sit through a briefing without you, or ramble on about some useless topic without you intently listening, and he didn’t want your last conversation to be the last conversation. He didn’t want to be right about this one thing.

When they saw the explosion in the distance, he began to fear he was right.

The tank fired toward you, it missed its mark and you were able to avoid a direct hit, but the explosion was just a little too close. You were sent flying back from the shock wave, and you could hear buzzing in your ear before everything went black.

If you hadn't gone out on your own, someone could have been looking out for you. Tech could have been looking out for you, just as he insisted upon.

But instead, you were so certain you could handle yourself that you had gotten yourself in trouble.

You woke up in your bunk, bandaged and sore, but still alive. You didn’t know what happened, and you weren’t exactly eager to find out, but you knew you had to face everyone eventually.

Wrecker smiled at you when you walked into the cockpit, “Well look who’s finally awake!”

Crosshair didn’t say anything, instead looking at the back of Tech’s chair.

You heard a sigh, and then Tech turned his chair around, eyeing you up and down.

“Something you need to say?” He finally asked.

“What happened with the mission?”

Hunter spoke, “Got the senator. We’ll be arriving on Coruscant shortly.”

Had you really been asleep that long?

"I told you you should not have gone on your own." It seemed Tech was tired of the small talk.

You looked at him, unsure of what he wanted you to say. “I was just doing my part of the mission, nothing I did was out of line. I didn't know there would be that many droids on the outskirts." It was a losing argument, and one you'd rather not have in the cockpit of the Marauder in front of everyone, but Tech didn't seem interested in anything but the argument.

"Precisely. If you had gone with Crosshair and I, you would not have encountered those droids. And now you are injured because of your own mistake." He had raised his voice, something you’d never heard him do.

You flinched slightly at his words but he continued, “What happened to keeping your comm on? We were trying to reach you.”

“My comm was on!” You retorted, “Just turned it down so I wouldn’t be spotted.”

“Yes well, a lot of good that did you.” He responded sarcastically. “We might not be there to save you next time. Keep that in mind before you choose to do something so reckless.” He turned away from you, facing the front again.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the back of the chair, "I didn’t ask to be saved, in fact I’d rather be back there with the droids. Maybe then-"

Hunter cut into your argument. "That is enough, both of you."

He looked at you with his eyebrows knit together, "Go lay down, rest is going to help your injuries, arguing is not."

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, you turned and went to your bunk.

After you were out of earshot, Hunter spoke to Tech.

"What was that about? You can't just yell at her, she got hurt, she learned her lesson already."

"As I have mentioned, she would not have-"

"Stow it. We all know what's going on between you, even if you don't. You need to figure it out before your next outburst." Hunter turned in his chair to face the front of the ship again. Tech looked on at the dancing lights of hyperspace.

Tech didn’t speak to you for the next week. The five of you were granted time off after saving the senator and you had all decided to spend it on Coruscant, but with the tension in the ship, it didn’t seem like much of a vacation.

You knew that all you had to do was apologize, but you didn’t feel like you did anything wrong.

You knew the others were getting tired of yours and Tech’s attitudes; they all knew that it was more than just the mission. They knew about your feelings for each other, and they knew how worried Tech had been as he treated your wounds and bandaged you up.

The only thing they could do was to force a resolution.

“Okay, we’ve had enough.” Hunter said loud enough for both you and Tech to hear at opposite ends of the ship. “We’re all going out. And that includes the two of you.”

He slammed down a flyer he had found for a gondola ride through the upper levels, complete with all the sights Coruscant had to offer.

“Is that really necessary?” You asked, glancing at Tech from the corner of your eye. You couldn’t think of anything less beneficial than the five of you being cramped together in a confined space you couldn’t leave.

“It isn’t a request.” Hunter informed you.

You sighed and left the ship, followed by the others, and finally Tech, and you made your way to the park where the dock was located.

The five of you slowly arrived at the front of the queue, and when it was your turn, you were shoved into a gondola along with Tech. None of the other batchers joined you, but before you thought to exit, the vessel's door had closed and you were moving.

You sat down on the bench across from Tech, still avoiding eye contact by looking out the window, arms crossed.

Tech still kept his silence. Even a week later, he was still considering Hunter's words. Was there something between him and you? He knew he didn’t want to lose you, but that was completely normal, wasn't it? And even if it wasn’t normal, that doesn’t mean whatever he felt was reciprocated. But if you did return his feelings, he knew this might be one of the only chances he had to act on it, to tell you how he felt.

When the gondola had reached nearly the top of the track, the view overlooking the Jedi temple, he sighed and finally looked at you.

"You see, I... I felt responsible for your injuries."

"You felt responsible?" You repeated after a pause. "Wasn't it my fault that I got injured? For not following your oh-so-wise plan?"

You were acting petulant, but your emotions were still running high and the confined space didn't help.

"Well yes, if you had done as I suggested, you would have been free from injury."

"Right, because you know everything."

"Crosshair and I left with zero injuries. So yes, this I know to be fact."

"Do you really have to say 'I told you so'? I'm sorry, is that what you want to hear? I'm sorry that I got hurt because I didn't l-"

You didn't have time to react before you felt Tech's lips upon yours. One hand was on the side of your face and the other was digging into your waist.

The vessel rocked slightly at his movement, causing you to grip onto the bench. Your eyes were still wide at the sudden contact, but when he didn't back away, you closed your eyes and deepened the kiss, moving your hands to place them on his chest.

He stopped to take a breath, his lips still hovering tantalizingly close over yours, breathing you in, committing your perfumed smell to memory.

You closed the gap this time when you decided he had enough time to catch his breath.

His tongue darted out and swiped across your lip, asking for access to explore. You allowed it, moaning into his mouth when you felt his tongue against yours.

In one swift movement, he sat on the bench and pulled you into his lap, resuming the kiss once you had situated yourself.

Your hands moved up, resting on his shoulders briefly before snaking your arms around the back of his neck, holding him close. You could feel his strong hands massaging your thighs before resting on your ass, testing the waters by giving it a squeeze, you bucked your hips slightly in response.

You could feel a coiling sensation in your stomach, a heat pulsing through you, and pooling out onto your panties. You wanted him, and you could feel based on his actions and the stiff bulge in his pants that he wanted you just as badly.

He broke the kiss, and moved his head back, causing you to chase after his kiss. He put a finger to your lips and smirked.

"You must be patient, the gondola ride is near the end of its course, and I still have more to say about the mission."

You frowned in protest, feeling all that heat suddenly dissipate as he gently pushed you off of him.

"Not to worry, the Marauder is nearby, no one else will be there and we can continue our conversation there, if that is what you want."

You nodded in agreement.

"I apologize, but I will need to hear an answer before I can comply."

"Yes, I want that." You said too quickly, trying and failing to not sound too desperate.

He smirked again. "Good girl. You and I still have much to discuss."

You whined slightly at his praise, then waited for the door to open as you neared the dock.

After disembarking, Tech grabbed your hand, pushing past the people exiting their respective vessels. Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair were nearby, but you didn't see them as Tech ushered you back toward the landing port.

"I guess they finally talked about it." Wrecker had said, staring wide-eyed after you two.

"We should probably give them some privacy so they can talk more." Hunter shook his head, smirking toward the ground.

"Just as long as they don't talk in my bunk." Crosshair said as he crossed his arms.

The door to the Marauder wooshed open, and the two of you hurried on board. Tech was back on you before it could close again.

He pushed you back into the wall, pinning you there as he kissed you. Placing hot kisses on your lips, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, anywhere he could.

"Do you realize how worried I was when I saw you?" He asked between kisses. "When I heard the explosion, when I rushed over only to find your body on the ground?"

He stopped kissing you and looked into your eyes, "I thought I lost you before you were even mine to lose."

"Tech.." You tried to move a hand from his grip to place it on his face, but he tightened his hold on it. “I’m sorry.”

“I do not want your apologies.” He told you, “I want you by my side, I want you to be safe. I…” He kissed you again, this time more roughly, eliciting a moan from you again. “I want you to be mine.”

Behind his goggles, his pupils were dilated, his eyes half-lidded.

The coiling feeling returned. Your stomach was in knots. You had never seen Tech like this before, you hadn’t seen him behave so possessively, and you wanted to see more of it.

"Then make me yours." You said, only a whisper. “I want to be yours.”

His mouth found yours again, not bothering to ask you to give his tongue space to enter but instead forcing it past your lips. His knee slotted itself between your legs, close enough to tease you, but not close enough to give you friction where you desired it most. You bucked your hips trying to find it on your own, and he smiled into the kiss.

"What do you want, mesh’la?" He asked you.

You bucked again in response. He removed one hand from yours and brought it down, pushing your hips back against the wall so you couldn't move them again.

"I told you, I need to hear your words. Tell me what you want."

"I want you. I-I need you."

"Then I should not keep you waiting."

He let go of your hip, and with the hand that was still holding yours above you, he guided you over toward the console.

"Here?" You asked.

"Well, of course." He guided your hips downward so that you were seated. "I cannot help but think about how pretty you would look while I fucked you right on the console of my ship."

You let out an involuntary moan at just his words alone.

He caressed the side of your face, and with a feather-light stroke across your jaw, he tilted your chin up to meet your gaze. Despite his words just a moment ago, he placed a gentle kiss on your lips once more, and his hand slowly traveled down your neck, over your breast, down your stomach, and rested at the hem of your shirt.

He looked into your eyes, silently asking for permission. You nodded eagerly and he pulled your shirt up over your head. He tossed it onto the seat behind him and then looked at you, admiring the newly uncovered parts of you.

"Beautiful." He whispered. Out of everything done so far, this one word was enough to make you blush, you tried to turn your head away but he stopped you.

Leaning down over you, he placed a kiss on your shoulder, then your collarbone, trailing down to your breasts, still obstructed by your bra. His lips kissed the top of one, while his hand held the other over the fabric. You reached behind your back and unclasped it, giving him access to another part of you where you wanted to feel his touch.

He tutted quietly. "I could have done that myself."

You rolled your eyes jokingly and he resumed allowing his lips to explore your skin, now alternating between kissing and sucking. And where his lips weren't, his hands were. Squeezing the flesh, thumbing over your nipple while his mouth worked on the other.

Soon, he continued his exploration, and as he neared your stomach, he lowered himself down until he was kneeling between your thighs.

His gaze was hungry as it focused on your center, his lips formed a tight line, holding his mouth closed to prevent his tongue from hanging out.

His hands were on your knees, he trailed them up your thighs, stopping at the waistband of your pants, once again looking up at you to ask your permission. You situated yourself to make it easier for him to remove them, and soon they too were discarded, thrown back toward the pilot chair. His hands were back on your thighs, prodding the soft skin, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses on each of them, sucking them enough to leave marks.

You whined, both at the sensation of him marking your legs, but also at the lack of sensation where you really wanted him to be.

He smirked up at you, and then spread your legs further apart, slowly moving his face toward your aching cunt. He could see how turned on you were, and he licked his lips before speaking.

"Stars, you appear to be soaked."

"Mmhm." Was all you could manage, all your attention was on the fact that he was inches away from giving you the friction you needed.

"Cyar'ika.." He scolded. "Words. You need something of me, what is it?"

"I... I just need you, I need your mouth, your fingers, your cock, I-I need to feel you." Your desperate words turned his gaze dark.

"Good girl, telling me everything you want," his praise caused you to squirm, trying to close your thighs just to feel friction, but he held them open.

"You enjoy it when I call you that?"

"Gods, yes." You moaned.

He hummed in response, keeping that knowledge filed away.

He finally pressed his face forward, nose rubbing against your clothed pussy. You whined in response. He dragged the tip of his nose upward, knowing exactly where you wanted to be touched, and he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your panties, relishing in your whines and pleas for him to finally take them off of you, and soon he relented, letting them join the rest of your clothes before he dove in.

He ate you like a man starved, licking you through your folds, tasting as much of you as he could.

"G-ah, fuck, Tech," you cried out, your hands reaching for his hair. The feeling of your hands gripping his hair causing him to groan.

His lips wrapped around your clit, alternating between sucking it and circling his tongue around it. He could feel you squirming at his touch and he reached one hand up, resting it on your hips, hoping to help anchor your.

With his other hand, he circled your entrance, teasing you, making you beg him to touch you before he obliged.

He slid one long finger into you as far as he could, pressing against the spongy walls, exactly where you needed to feel him.

He let go of your clit and let his tongue run up and down your folds, getting another taste of your juices.

"M-mmo-" You began to say, being cut off by the feeling of his tongue making another swipe up.

"My apologies, you will have to repeat yourself." He looked up at you, his face slick with your arousal.

"More, I need more."

He raised an eyebrow and plunged another finger into you. Your head rolled back and you cried out.

"Is that what you wanted?"

"Yes!"

Your grip tightened on his hair, pulling his face back into you. His hot breath fanned against your cunt and you sighed in contentment.

"Gods, you are a needy thing." His purred, his voice vibrated against you as he attached himself to your clit again.

He sucked on you while his fingers made scissor patterns inside you, all the while you could feel the coil start to tighten.

"I'm close-" You cried out. He didn't change anything about his rhythm. He strived to get you there, he was eager to please you after he had been so harsh toward you earlier. His tongue circled your clit and he could feel you pulsing around his fingers.

You could feel the heat growing in your stomach, your moans got louder as you got closer. He slid his fingers out, and before you could complain about the loss, you felt his tongue swiping up and down before dipping inside you. His fingers resumed drawing circles on your clit as he drank from you.

Your thighs clenched together, forcing him to stay exactly where he was, you muttered out a string of curses as the coil finally snapped and you cried his name as you came undone. He kept lapping at you until you were through.

You released your hold on his hair and he stood back up.

"You taste magnificent," He smirked, licking your arousal off his fingers before his mouth found yours again. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he leaned you back onto the console. You shuddered when you felt his stiffened cock press against you. His hands began grabbing at your breasts and your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him in.

"You are perfect." He said as he began kissing every piece of you he could. He locked onto your neck, he kissed you fervently, then gently bit down, giving you a mark that would be difficult to hide from the others, not that they didn’t already have an idea of what was going on here. But that’s what Tech wanted, he wanted to show everyone that you were his.

"Tech.." You said quietly,

"Mm?"

"I want to see you." You pushed yourself back up onto your elbows and looked into his eyes.

For a moment, just for a moment, he froze, but soon enough, his hands moved to the fastener on his pants.

"Let me do that."

He smirked and helped you off the console gently.

You worked on the buttons on his shirt first, unbuttoning them slowly, placing gentle kisses on his chest as each loose button reveals it to you.

He tilted your chin up and leaned in for a kiss, pressing against you. You could feel his stiff bulge press into you again and your hands moved faster to unbutton his shirt.

You pushed it off his shoulders when it's finally unbuttoned, and you looked at his toned chest. You knew he'd be strong but it was still a surprise to you. Your fingers danced across his torso, feeling the muscles under his smooth skin, before finally landing on the fastener of his pants.

You look up at him, just as he did for you, asking for his permission. He pressed his forehead against yours in response, you smiled and kissed his lips, then moved to undo the fastening. He helped you to slide his pants off, and he stepped out of them, kicking them off to the side.

You could see the outline of his cock much clearer against his briefs and you could feel your mouth water, you clenched your thighs together, not wanting to wait to feel it inside of you. He raised an eyebrow at you.

"You desire it so badly?" He asked you, forcing your gaze away from it and back up to him.

You nod quickly, "Yes."

He smiled then rutted his hips against you, "Then please, continue."

Your hands moved to the waistband of his briefs, he moved his lips to yours again and you returned the kiss before kissing along his jaw, then his neck. You peeled the waistband down and he hissed as his briefs grazed across his cock. They had soon joined the rest of the clothes and you looked down.

You bit your bottom lip and you started to lower yourself down but he stopped you. You gave him a confused look, and he smirked.

"There will be plenty of time for that at a later time. But for now,"

He continued by guiding you back onto the console, laying your back down and he stood between your legs with his hands on your thighs.

"Are you comfortable?" He asked.

"Yes," you assured him.

You felt his cock rub against your folds, before he positioned himself at your entrance.

"Ready?" He asked.

You bucked your hips in response and he pushed himself in without another word.

You arched your back as you felt him stretch you open, if there was any pain, it quickly turned into pleasure as he buried himself in you inch by inch.

When he was fully sheathed, he gave you a moment to adjust before he started to move. He started out slow, he made sure that you were used to the feeling of his thrusts before he picked up the pace.

"Gods, you are taking me so well, cyar'ika."

You replied with a moan. You bucked your hips to meet his pace and he smirked.

"Is there something you want?"

"Mmm p-please, go fas-faster" you answered between thrusts.

"Very well," He obliged, his hands gripped onto your thighs and he buried himself again, quickening his pace at your request. He looked at you as you took his cock, the way your back arched, how your tits bounced with each thrust, the way your face contorted in pleasure.

He tightened his grip on your thighs, you took that as a hint to wrap your legs around his waist and he moaned in response, feeling himself go even deeper inside you.

"You are so perfect, such a good girl for me." Your walls clenched around his cock at his praise.

He thrusted into you harder wanting to explore the new angle he was permitted.

“Fu-uck,” you whined.

"Is this okay?" He asked, unsure of if he was hurting you.

"Gods, yes!"

He set a brutal pace, but you bucked your hips, meeting his thrusts each time.

Tech could feel himself nearing his climax, his pace started to become slightly more erratic. He slid one hand down your thigh toward your center. He circled your clit with his thumb, intending on sending you over the edge with him.

Your walls clenched around him again at the contact. You were getting close again. Your moans grew louder as you neared the edge.

"That's it," He said, he wanted to feel you come undone again. He continued circling your clit as he thrusted into you. "Be a good girl and come for me once more, come on my cock."

Your second orgasm crashed over you without as much of a warning as the first, your legs tightened around him, he slowed his thrusts down, helping you through it, and he moaned at how your walls constricted him. He knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

"Wh.. Where do you want me?" He asked.

"In-inside," you said, still overcoming the last of the waves of pleasure.

He didn't ask any further questions, he buried himself as far as he could before he stilled, his cock twitching inside you as he painted your walls with hot ropes of his seed.

He moaned out your name as he finished, feeling himself soften inside of you, he pulled himself out of you and you pushed yourself up, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his lips, your tongue darting into his mouth.

He returned the kiss, holding you close to him, and his hands traveled across your thighs, before lifting you up from the console.

“I love you.” You told him, resting your head on his shoulder as he held you. “I think I always have, but… In case it still wasn’t obvious.”

He smiled and carried you toward the refresher, sitting you down on the counter when you arrived, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. “Perhaps it was not obvious over the last week, but now, I would have more questions if you did not.” He smiled at you, “I love you too. But next time, if I ask you to join me on a mission instead of going off on your own, please listen to me.”

“But look where it brought us.” You replied with a smirk.

“Perhaps that is true, but for your own information, you do not need to nearly get yourself killed in order for me to fuck you. You could have just asked.”

He grabbed a towel before he quickly left to retrieve your clothes and clean off the console. Tech soon returned to you and turned the water on, helping you off the counter and guiding you to the shower where he joined you. It didn’t take long for his lips to be on you once again.

While it was your stubbornness that led you to this point in the first place, you were suddenly very eager to see what would happen on the next mission, should you and Tech finally be paired together.

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mandos-mind-trick · 8 months

Text

Heat of the Moment

Summary: It was supposed to be an easy mission, just a simple insurrection on a primitive planet. Nothing ever goes as planned, and Clone Force 99's civilian member finds herself in a sticky situation.

Pairing: Hunter x reader

Warnings: Sex pollen, medical inaccuracies, dub-con because sex pollen, hidden feelings, ROUGH sex, angst, biting, scratching, brief mentions of blood, excessive use of the word pussy, manhandling, injuries, confession of feelings, oral, smelling, unprotected sex, creampies galore, it's really rough guys please use caution

A/N: All hail the mighty sex pollen trope. I am here with another sex pollen fic that sort of got away from me. I didn't plan on it being this long but I have been rather long winded recently. Please heed the warnings since this is pretty intense and rough and yeah. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

It happens suddenly.

You’re crouched behind a rock, taking cover as you fire at droids. It was nothing more than an insurrection on a relatively primordial planet. Squashing insurrections was becoming your specialty.

You were entirely focused on taking out droids when you felt the sudden prick on your neck. It was hardly more than a sting, like that of a bug, but enough to draw your attention from the fight. You reach up, fingers meeting something soft like feathers. You tug on it, feeling a small pinch as it’s tugged from your skin. You lean against the rock you had been taking cover behind, staring down at the brightly colored dart resting in your palm.

Someone shot you with a dart. Your eyes scan the trees, looking for any sign of who could have shot you, but there’s nothing. No sign of anyone.

Your arm flies up out of instinct, covering your face as sparks erupt right over your head. A droid falls at your side with a clang, Hunter sheathing his knife. You blink up at him, suddenly remembering you’re in the middle of a fight. You feel a bit like your brain is moving in slow motion, your fingers beginning to tingle.

You blink as Hunter squats down next to you. He’s been speaking to you, but you haven’t been listening. His fingers close around yours, pulling your hand closer to him. His hands are warm, practically pulsing against your tingling fingertips. You’re still holding the dart in your palm, the bright plumage a stark contrast to your black glove.

“Did this hit you?” He asks, taking the dart from your hand.

You nod slowly, forcing your mouth closed. You hadn’t even realized it was hanging open.

“Tech, do you know what it is?” Hunter asks, handing the dart off to Tech.

You turn to look up at Tech. When had he arrived? You glance around, the other three standing around you. Was the fight over? When had they gotten here?

Tech lowers his visor, studying the dart. “It will be difficult to discern.” He says, turning the dart in his hands. “There is not much knowledge on the inhabitants of this planet, or its native flora. I will have to do further testing to be certain.” Tech pockets the dart before kneeling down in front of you. “Are you experiencing any symptoms?”

You stare at the visor, looking past it to his eyes. Gloved hands cup your face, tugging lightly at the skin below your eyes. You flinch under the touch, your skin tingling under the rough fabric of his gloves.

“Slight dilation of the pupils. Body temperature is just higher than normal.” Tech says, studying your face.

“‘M fine.” You murmur, suddenly snapping to the present.

“Delayed cognitive processing.” Tech pulls away from you, your skin itching where his hands had been. “That could be concerning.”

Hunter pushes himself to stand and you use the rock behind you to help get your feet under you. Your legs are twitching, feeling a bit like jelly as you attempt to steady yourself. “Tech, Echo, take her back to the ship. See if you can figure out what was on that dart. The rest of us will scan the area. Whoever shot her couldn’t have gotten far on foot.”

You push yourself off the rock, wavering for just a moment before you steady yourself. It feels as if you’re moving in slow motion, each step taking every ounce of effort to move your feet forward.

The trek back to the Marauder is slow going.

Tech’s fingers are moving at light speed on his datapad, head down as you follow the trail back to the Marauder. Echo walks next to you, watching you cautiously. You’ve broken out in a sweat, your blacks sticking to your back under your light armor. It’s uncomfortable, the fabric almost unbearable as it chafes your skin. You’re not sure if it’s the heat blooming under your skin, or the unbearable feeling of the fabric, but you want to pull your clothes off.

You stumble to a stop as Echo grabs your arm. You had been undoing the clasps of your armor without even realizing it. You frown, dragging a hand across your forehead to wipe the sweat off. “‘M hot.” You murmur.

“We’ll never make it at this speed.” Echo says. “She’s going to drop before we even get there.”

Tech pockets his datapad and suddenly your world is spinning. You nearly black out at the sudden movement, your head falling limply against a plastoid-covered shoulder.

“Her temperature has spiked.” His voice rumbles through his chest, vibrating against your side. “The sooner we can reach the Marauder, the sooner we can combat her symptoms.”

The world sways as Tech carries you back to the Marauder. The trip takes half the time it would have had you still been walking. Echo had been right, you likely wouldn’t have made it. You’re hot and exhausted even being carried.

The air doesn’t feel any cooler in the Marauder as Tech sits you in a chair. Your head is swimming, fingers fumbling to remove your armor. You can’t stand it. It’s heavy and it’s pressing your blacks tighter against your skin. Echo helps you remove each piece, setting it out of the way as he runs a scan. Tech works on scanning the dart, trying to figure out what it was coated with to see how best to help you.

Echo straps a monitor to your arm, your vision still swimming as you try to focus on his helmet. You still feel like the world is moving in slow motion, even just lifting your hand feels like it’s taking every ounce of effort.

“Hmm,” Tech hums, staring at the screen. “There’s no record of any of the compounds pulled from the dart. I’ll need to run a further analysis to see if I can break down their individual components.”

“Well, whatever you have to do, do it fast.” Echo says. “Her heart rate is spiking again.”

Tech turns to look at you, adjusting his goggles. “We may need to consider a medical center. They will have the resources to keep her stable.”

You swallow thickly. Even in your half delirious state, you know that what Tech is suggesting isn’t coming lightly. You could deteriorate faster than he can figure out what was unwittingly injected into your body. And if there was no cure...a medical center would be better prepared to search for one and keep you alive while they did it.

Heat begins blooming under your skin once more as you sit and wait, your vision swimming. The monitor on your arm begins to beep rapidly, your hands and feet starting to tingle. You feel a bit like you’re floating, like your brain is leaving your body behind.

“...get back to the ship...condition deteriorating...” Tech’s voice fades into the background, your eyes fluttering shut.

***

There’s a hand on your face when you snap back into reality. The sweat sliding down your temples is uncomfortable, practically burning your skin. The rough fabric of the glove is too much and not enough at the same time. You blink up at the helmet hovering in front of your face.

“...bacta’s working...waking up...”

The voices float in and out around you. You feel hot, hotter than you had been when you passed out. Your blacks are almost unbearable, between the heat trapped under them from your skin and the intense sensation of the fabric against your skin, you’re ready to strip down right there.

Hands grasp yours, stilling their movements.

You had been pulling your blacks off, the top half undone and untucked from the bottoms. You weakly try to pull your hands free, but Hunter’s grip on you is tight. He’s breathing heavily, the sound of his breaths just barely audible through his helmet. You can feel the subtle vibration in the seat under you as the Marauder hurtles through hyperspace.

“‘M hot.” You whine, still trying to fight Hunter’s grasp on you.

“I know.” He says, voice raspy through his helmet. “Your fever’s going down.” He slowly releases your hands and they fall limply to your sides again. He turns away from you to face Tech at the other console. “Are you any closer?” His tone is sharp, shoulders tense. Even in your delirious state you can tell he’s on edge.

You’ve spent a lot of time staring at Hunter. You could read him like a novel, far better than you could read the others. He had been one of the most welcoming of the group when you had been forced to join, though finding your place among them had taken some time. They’ve been together their whole lives and suddenly someone else is being thrown into the mix, a nat-born and a woman to boot. You had spent a lot of time studying him, watching him even when you weren’t in the middle of a battle. How easily he moves, how graceful he is, how aware of everything he is. The dexterity of his fingers and how easily he can wield a knife.

You may have developed some feelings for your Sergeant, but you would never admit it. He’s never shown any interest in that at all, so you would hold your peace. You’d suffer in silence, stuck doing nothing but fantasizing when everyone else was asleep.

A wave of heat burns through your body, making you wince. You’re uncomfortable, a cramping sensation beginning in your lower abdomen. You wince, hissing out a breath as you curl in on yourself.

“You alright?” Echo asks, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Hurts.” You gasp out, tensing your whole body as you wait for the cramping to stop.

Sweat is pooling in your underwear and between your legs, the fabric of your blacks beginning to chafe uncomfortably. You desperately want to be naked. Anything to relieve some of the sensation.

You let out a shaky breath as the sensation begins to subside, but now there’s a slight pulsing between your legs.

“You’re developing new symptoms.” Tech says, staring at you. “What did it feel like?”

“Cramping.” You say, pushing your hands into the spot right above your pelvis where you had felt it. “Here.”

Tech stares at you contemplatively for a moment before he spins back around to the console, typing away rapidly.

You shift in your seat, gasping quietly as your thighs press together. Your pussy is throbbing, underwear no longer damp from just sweat anymore. You should tell Tech about this development as well, but you’re afraid to. How do you bring something like that up to someone who was essentially your coworker, much less in a room full of your other coworkers?

Oh yeah, by the way, I’m also feeling very horny. That wouldn’t be an awkward conversation at all.

Your blacks continue to chafe your skin, sticking in sweaty places and rubbing others. You can’t stand it. It’s all too much, every sensation against your body too much. “Kriff it.” You breathe, tugging the top of your blacks off. “I can’t.”

The soaked fabric hits the floor with a plop, leaving you in nothing but your breastband. Echo quickly straightens up, turning his gaze to the back of the ship. Wrecker clears his throat, turning his back to you very quickly. You’ve all seen each other in various states of undress before. It wasn’t like this was that kind of situation. You were potentially dying.

If you’re going to die, you’re going to do it comfortably, even if that comes at the expense of your poor squadmates.

Even your breastband is almost too much, nipples hard and poking at the thick fabric. Every breath is like torture, every small sensation only adding to the throbbing between your legs. Even the vibration of the seat, something you normally didn’t even notice, is almost too much.

“Kriff,” Hunter breathes, popping his helmet off. His forehead is beading with sweat under the bandana, strands of hair sticking to his face and neck.

“You alright, Hunter?” Wrecker asks, watching his sergeant with rapt attention. Everyone is staring at him now, not just you.

“No!” He snaps, his helmet hitting the floor with a clang. “I can smell it! I can smell her!” He points at you.

The entire ship falls silent, no one moving for a moment. You hadn’t even thought about the fact Hunter could probably smell you. He’d likely known before you had how aroused you were becoming. The thought has your face flushing. You’d pictured him many times burying his face in your pussy, breathing in your scent from its source, praising you on how good you smell, how good you taste.

The thoughts have your pussy throbbing even more.

Tech stands from the console, turning to Echo, speaking quietly despite the fact Hunter could still hear him. “Take her into the cockpit and seal the door. Don’t open it, no matter what you hear.”

Echo nods, scooping you into his arms before carrying you into the cockpit. His scomp is cold against your back, but it feels good, like a brief respite from the fire burning beneath your skin. He sits you down in the copilot’s seat before he locks the door, sealing you off from the others.

He takes a seat in the pilot’s chair, checking the navigation. You’re still a few hours out from the nearest medical center.

Are you going to make it that long?

“I have a theory.” Tech’s voice comes through the comm, drawing your attention from your thoughts. “I’ve managed to identify one of the chemical agents found on the dart. The others are a mix of pollen from plants native to the planet. It appears to be causing an excessive release of estrogen from the hypothalamus.”

“What does that mean?” Hunter’s voice is faint through the comms, but you can still hear the strain in it.

“She’s experiencing a state of hyper-arousal. As more and more estrogen is released, her state of arousal continues to increase. That is why her heart rate and temperature continue to spike, and why she is in such a state of discomfort.” Tech states, far too calmly for the situation.

“What do we do?” Wrecker asks.

“She will die, if the effects are not reversed. She will suffer brain damage if her body temperature continues to rise, and the prolonged tachycardia will cause heart failure.” Tech says.

You gulp, your skin starting to prickle. So you are dying. Dying from horniness.

“Bacta will not work, so long as her hypothalamus is in a state of dysfunction. It can lessen the fever and help slow her heart rate, but it will only be effective for so long.” Tech continues. “There is no known remedy, since this compound has been entirely unknown to science until now.”

“Why would they do this?” Hunter asks, his voice louder. You can hear the agitation in his tone. “Why would they give her something like this?”

“I am uncertain.” Tech answers. “A possible explanation is this is a common aphrodisiac used for mating purposes. The natives of the planet may be more tolerant to the compound. Perhaps they were unwelcoming of both us and the droids and this was their only means of protecting themselves.”

“And she’s the easiest target since she doesn’t wear a helmet.” Crosshair says.

“Precisely.” Tech says. “It also explains why you are being affected as well. Beyond being able to sense her arousal, it is likely the compound is causing her to release a pheromone that is too faint for us to sense. But for someone with heightened senses...”

“Kriff.” Hunter curses, his voice sounding strained. “What do we do? How do we fix it?”

“It is possible a release of other chemicals may slow the hypothalamus’ excretion of estrogen enough to stave off the symptoms until we can reach a medical center.” Tech says.

“How do we do that?” Hunter asks.

“An orgasm would be the simplest way.” Tech answers.

Your cheeks burn again. Hearing Tech speak so lewdly is strange to you. None of them had ever even made jokes, much less shown any interest. It had been jarring compared to other similar situations you’ve been in. Five men alone on a ship with one woman and not even one whistle or comment or passing of the hand.

“Kriff it.” You breathe, tugging your pants off. Echo quickly focuses his gaze out the viewport as you stand, moving to the back of the cockpit. “Just...don’t turn around.” You say, laying yourself out on the floor.

The metal is cold against your skin, offering a respite to the heat for a moment. You slip a hand in your underwear, peeling it from your soaked pussy. You sigh quietly as you pass your fingers over your clit, toes curling in response to finally giving your desperate pussy some attention.

You bite your lip to keep quiet for Echo’s sake as you slowly work yourself up. Your legs start to shake, that cramping feeling starting to build in your stomach once more and you huff out a sigh. You withdraw your hand as the pleasure fades, taken over by the intense cramping. Fluid soaks your panties as your pussy begins to throb even more. You force a hand under the fabric once more, desperately rubbing at your clit but you can’t quite reach the peak. No matter how badly your pussy throbs for attention, you cannot bring yourself to cum.

You huff out another sigh, pushing yourself to stand. There’s a wet spot on the floor in the shape of your body, but you don’t give it a second glance. You’re so far past modesty at this point. You lean over Echo, hitting the button for the comms.

“It’s not working.” Your voice has a bite to it, not unlike Hunter’s had. “I can’t...finish.”

“Hunter has been unsuccessful as well.” Tech says.

A thought crosses your mind. Heat pools in your stomach, another cramp starting to form. Your skin tingles, heat radiating from you so hot you’re sure Echo can feel it. You feel dizzy, the exertion of trying to make yourself cum hitting you suddenly and your knees buckle. You sink to the floor, curling in on yourself. Your heart is pounding in your chest, terrifying you that it might stop at any moment.

“Let him fuck me.” You murmur, breathing through the intense cramping and the throbbing in your pussy.

“What?” Echo glances down at you.

“Let him fuck me!” You cry, looking up at him with teary eyes. “It’s the only way we can both get help right now. Tech said it’s probably used for mating. I don’t think we can fix it any other way.”

The ship is silent except for the quiet hum of the engine. Tears of exhaustion and pain blur your vision. You’re desperate, legs shaking from the intense throbbing of your pussy and the cramping in your stomach. You just want to feel normal again.

“Mesh’la.” Hunter’s deep voice crackles through the comms. He’s called you that before a couple times. You don’t know what it means. None of them will tell you. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m already hurting.” You sob, tears burning as they slide down your cheeks. “Kriff, it hurts so much!” Your sob cuts off in a cry as another wave of heat and pain rolls through your body. “Please, Hunter. I don’t want to die.”

The comms pick up quiet cursing and shuffling on the other side before they go quiet. You push yourself to stand, using the chairs and the wall for support as you move to the door, unlocking the cockpit. You step out on shaky legs, beads of arousal sliding down the insides of your thighs, mixing with the sweat. Wrecker, Crosshair, and Tech file silently into the cockpit, the door sliding closed behind you.

You’re left standing alone, Hunter on the opposite end of the ship. He’s ditched his armor leaving him in nothing but his blacks, the bottoms half hanging open. His shoulders are tense and squared, brows furrowed as he stares at you.

“Hunter,” Your voice wavers, tears still pricking your vision. “I need you to know something before we do this.”

This isn't how you wanted to tell him, how you wanted this to play out. You wanted him to come to you, to admit any feelings he might have, even if they’re just lust. You would never force yourself on him, reveal feelings you weren’t sure would be reciprocated. You would suffer in silence if it meant keeping the integrity of the team intact.

His hands curl into fists as you take a step closer, nostrils flaring. You can only imagine what you smell like to him right now. He’s not in his right mind. He would have avoided your gaze, averted his from your almost naked body. Instead his eyes trail your form, watching one of the beads of arousal or sweat slide down to your knee.

“I’ve had feelings for you for a while now.” You continue, ignoring the way his gaze starts to turn almost predatory, his eyes going almost black. “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t know if you felt the same way. I didn’t want things to end up being awkward.” You sniffle, continuing to approach him slowly. “I didn’t want it to happen like this.”

“Kriff, mesh’la.” He breathes, staring at you. He takes a deep breath, eyes screwing closed as he practically shudders. “I know. I’ve known for a while. Your heart rate...the arousal.” He swallows thickly. “I could sense it all. I-I’m your sergeant. I’m not supposed to take advantage of you like that.”

“Is it really taking advantage of someone that wants it too?” Your voice shakes, more tears sliding down your cheeks.

Another wave of heat rolls beneath your skin, making you cramp. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart has been pumping. You’re scared. You cry out from the pain, knees buckling as you begin to fall forward.

You don’t hit the floor.

Arms wrap around you, pulling you tight against a sturdy chest. A groan rumbles through your body, Hunter’s face pressing into your neck. He inhales deeply, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat-soaked skin. He sighs out a long breath, making you shiver. His hands smooth up your back, his skin bare and rough against yours.

You let out a whine as he mouths at your throat, legs still shaking. You’re not sure how much longer you can hold out. You’re starting to get dizzy again, the bacta wearing off as your fever comes back full force.

“Please.” You beg, beginning to go limp against him. “Make it stop. Make it better.”

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder and you let out a weak whimper at the sensation. “Gonna make you feel good.” He groans, voice rough and strained. He’s suffering almost as much as you are. “Could smell you as soon as I got on board.”

He guides you onto the floor of the ship, letting you lay there limply. You feel sick again, not unlike how you had felt when you had first been shot with the dart. Your pussy is still throbbing, desperate for any sort of relief, but you’re beginning to feel it in the rest of your body again. You’re afraid. If this doesn't work...you may not come out on the other side.

Hunter slips his hands around your back, practically ripping your breastband in an attempt to get it off. Your nipples pebble in the cool air in the ship, your breasts feeling heavy. Hunters thumbs tease your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You whimper, the pain beginning to ease as his hands tease you, every touch like electricity on your heated skin.

He curses, sliding his hands down your sides. You shift your hips what little you can, helping him rid you of your panties. They land with a wet plop somewhere behind you, your legs spreading wide open for him. You’re slick and soaked, your pussy throbbing for him. His hands slide down your thighs, keeping your legs parted so far it’s almost painful but you don’t care.

He leans down, breath fanning across the damp skin before he presses his face against your pussy, inhaling deeply. He lets go of your thighs, letting them close around his head as he stays there, face buried in your pussy as he breathes you in. You lift your head as much as you can, staring at him as he lays there, eyes closed in bliss. Your cheeks warm, having imagined this moment several times.

Those fantasies could never compare to it actually happening.

You let out a quiet sound as his eyes open, boring into yours. His gaze is primal and clouded with lust as he stares at you, shifting his head just enough that he can drag his tongue through your folds.

Your fingers could never make you feel the way he does, not even when you had tried to get yourself off in the cockpit. You could cry from the pleasure as he drags his tongue through your folds, tasting the wetness your body has been producing in desperate need for someone to touch you.

It’s obscene the way his tongue parts your lips, dragging from your hole to the top where he flicks it across your clit. You could cum just like this, just from watching him lick you. His gaze stays locked with yours as his hands slip under your ass, lifting your hips just slightly as he lowers his head, tracing your lips with his tongue before he sinks it into your pussy.

His nose presses against your clit as he thrusts his tongue as deep as he can, your pussy fluttering around him in relief of finally having something inside you. His growl vibrates through your entire body, your hips shifting against his face. You gasp at the sensation of his nose dragging across your clit, shifting your hips again.

He continues to fuck you with his tongue as you ride his face, your upper body falling limp against the floor. It’s not enough, not nearly enough to make you cum, but it’s the best you’ve felt since you got hit with the dart.

“Please, Hunter.” You beg, continuing to grind desperately on his face. “Please, I need you inside me.”

He groans, lifting his face from your pussy. It’s shining with your juices, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Taste so good.” His voice is deep and rough from his own need. “Such a sweet little pussy.”

Your fingers pluck at your nipples as he strips out of his blacks, desperate to keep any sort of sensation going to abate the pain you know is waiting if you stop. You stare unabashedly at his hard cock as it's revealed to you. He’s not very long, but what he lacks in length, he makes up for in girth. You lick your lips, legs splaying open in invitation.

You need him inside you now.

He slides back in between your legs, meeting no resistance as he slides into you. You’ve been waiting for this moment, desperate for it for so long now. He folds his body over yours as he fills your needy pussy, the sensation of his sweaty skin against yours too much and not enough at the same time. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, so tight there’s almost no space between your bodies. You want to devour him, to pull him completely inside you so you’re one being.

Your mind feels hazy as he begins to move, fucking into you with short, sharp thrusts. He buries his face in your neck as he fucks you, teeth sinking into your skin. It’s animalistic, the sounds he’s making, the wild way he’s fucking into you. You can do nothing but wrap yourself around him and hold on, letting him take what he needs from you, letting him ease the ache within you.

Your vision nearly goes white as you’re thrown into your first orgasm, walls clamping down so tightly around him his rhythm stutters, cock pulsing inside you as you spasm around him. Your nails dig into his skin, drawing blood as white hot pleasure burns through you.

It burns hotter than the fever that had been plaguing you, hotter than the drug could ever make you feel. You can’t feel anything but him for a moment, tears leaking out of your eyes as you ride out your first high.

He’s staring down at you, a rivulet of blood trailing down his chin as your vision begins to clear. There’s blood dripping from his sides, mixing with the sweat on your skin from where your nails had ripped at his skin. Despite your blinding orgasm, your pussy is still throbbing, the heat beneath your skin still burning hot.

You’re nowhere near done.

Hunter sits up and grabs your hips, flipping you onto your stomach. You hit the floor with a thud, narrowly missing smashing your face into the hard metal. He forces your hips up, shaky legs keeping your ass raised for him. He kneels behind you, dragging his cock through your messy pussy before he’s sinking back in, filling your desperate cunt once more.

It truly feels animalistic now, forced into such a primal position, unable to do anything but hold yourself up as he relentlessly fucks into you. His hands are bruising at your hips, blunt nails biting into your skin. He curses, tightening his grip until it’s almost painful as he stills, cock pulsing inside you as he fills you with his cum.

You moan from the sensation of being filled with him, eyes rolling back as your own orgasm ripples through you. He’s still hard inside you, even as the last spurts of him hit your walls.

This is far from over.

Hunter keeps you in this position, picking up his pace once more. He can do nothing but grunt and growl as he fucks into you, nothing but whimpers and whines leaving your throat as he drags orgasm after orgasm from you, filling you over and over with his seed.

Your knees begin to ache, sensations coming back to you as he releases your hips, tangling a hand in your hair instead. Your body drops, his following as he pins you to the floor, holding you in place as he seeks one last orgasm. There’s a pool of drool under your cheek, the floor a mess of blood and cum and sweat.

His hand tightens in your hair painfully, gripping onto you as he cums one last time, forcing your body into one more orgasm with him. You both lay there panting, the heat under your skin beginning to fade. The hand in your hair begins to loosen until it’s sliding out, planting itself next to your head.

“Hunter?” You whisper, voice cracking and rough.

He’s breathing heavily, still inside you, still trapping you against the floor. “Mesh’la.” His voice cracks, heavy with emotion.

You grab his wrist before he can pull away, shifting your hips until he slips out of you. You wince at the sensation, pussy sore from the pounding it had just taken. You feel weak and sore, limbs shaking as you roll yourself over onto your back so you can stare up at him.

You can see it in his face, the reality beginning to set in, the gravity of the situation hitting him. You’re both a mess of blood and bruises and fluids. You try not to look down, try to keep your focus on his face, and his focus on yours.

You lift shaking hands to his cheeks, his bandana somewhere on the floor beside you. You brush his hair from his face, the strands soaked with sweat. “One more time.” You whisper, tracing the skull tattoo. “One more time.”

You can’t explain it, can’t give a reason but you don’t need to. He reaches down, jerking his cock a couple of times before he sinks back into you. You close your eyes, your face pinching a bit at the soreness. You’re not going to be able to walk or sit comfortably for a few days. You’re not likely to forget this.

He stays still as he seats himself inside you, allowing his body to press against yours. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding him against you as he buries his face in your shoulder. You hold him as he begins to move, slow and deep, a contrast to what he had just done to your body.

Your toes curl as raw pleasure burns through you, not like it had before, not brought on by the drug in your system. The heat that blossoms under your skin feels natural, feels normal. How it should feel. You pull his face from your shoulder, keeping his eyes on you as he fucks into you. Despite the discomfort, despite the pain, despite the ache deep in your bones you can feel the heat blooming in your stomach.

“Thank you,” You whisper, his head lowering towards your face.

For a moment you think he might kiss you but he doesn’t, letting his forehead rest against yours. You close your eyes, basking in the pleasure, basking in the feeling of him inside you, really inside you. Not the desperation you had been feeling, the need for him to utterly destroy you to keep you from dying.

Just for a moment you can imagine what it would be like if he were yours. If you had been brave enough to tell him before. If your fantasies were more than just fantasies.

You spasm around him as you cum, holding him tightly against you. He groans your name as he cums, cock twitching weakly inside you. You’re both exhausted, both feeling the effects of the drug wearing off.

You hold onto him knowing this can’t happen again, knowing you’ll likely be putting in transfer paperwork as soon as you land. Tears prick your vision as you feel yourself fading, body giving out from exhaustion.

***

It’s too bright when you wake.

You hate medical centers and their harsh sterile environments. The GAR’s are no better, in fact they might be worse. You’re sticky from dried bacta, something tugging on your arm as you try to move it. Your fingers make out the shape of an IV moments before they’re gently eased away.

“Don’t go pulling that out now.” A familiar voice says.

“Wasn’t gonna.” You manage to get out, your tongue feeling swollen and throat dry. Your voice sounds like you’ve swallowed sand, rough and weak.

You crack your eyes open, squinting against the harsh light of the medical station. The cot you’re on is hard and uncomfortable, and the blanket is scratchy against your sensitive skin. It was like no one cared about the comfort of the clones, even in a vulnerable place such as a medical station.

You squint up at the reg medic above you, his head bowed as he stares at a datapad. You cast a quick glance around your bed. You’re slightly disappointed to find you’re alone. They’ve probably already left. You’ll be handed a transfer request as soon as you’re sitting up, you’re sure of it.

You can’t blame them.

The medic goes through a series of tests, explaining your injuries and what they had found left over in your bloodstream when you’d arrived, and what they had done to fix it. You should be perfectly fine, aside from some lingering soreness that could last as long as a few hours as the bacta finishes working its way through your system.

You finally get some water and rations, downing almost a whole pitcher. Every time the door opens, you half expect it to be someone in command coming to give you your new orders. You wonder where they’ll put you. On a base somewhere? In with a larger battalion? Or were you going right back to Coruscant where you started?

A doctor comes in to check you, double checking all your tests and vitals are normal. You withhold details, not sure how much the others had said, if they’d said anything at all. Regardless, you wouldn’t throw them under the bus, even if they did leave you here.

“Your squad is waiting in the hangar.” The doctor says, signing off on the datapad. “They were banned from the upper levels after they started a fight with a medic who was trying to keep them from following you into the exam room.”

You stare at the doctor with wide eyes, not expecting that. So they hadn’t left you? They had even started a fight for you?

“You’re cleared to go.” The doctor says.

You blink at her for a moment before your mind catches up. You’re still in shock that they want to keep you on the squad, much less that they’d waited for you. You’re surprised the GAR hadn’t sent them on another mission while you were recovering.

You change into the scratchy clothes the medical station laid out before you before you make your way through the maze to the hangar. You’re nervous on the lift ride down, your stomach churning, threatening to bring back up the rations. You could go straight to command and ask for a transfer yourself. You could ask to never have to see them again, never have to face them after everything.

But they had waited for you.

Were they waiting to serve you transfer papers themselves? Pass over your belongings before telling you to get out of their sight? You’re nearly sick as the lift slows to a stop, opening to the hangar. You step off, legs shaking as you scan the ships until you find the Marauder.

You’ve convinced yourself to turn back around and board the lift when your name is called, loudly, echoing in the hangar. People stop and stare, your cheeks warming in embarrassment.

Wrecker is waving his arm, towering over the civilians and regs milling about in the hangar. You can’t run for it now. You take a breath, letting it out before you weave through the crowd towards the Marauder.

You’re scooped off your feet as soon as you’re in sight, joints cracking as Wrecker picks you up in a hug and spins you. You yelp in shock, not expecting such a welcoming response.

“Easy, Wrecker.” Crosshair says. “You don’t want to send her back to a bacta tank, do you.”

“Sorry.” Wrecker sets you back on your feet, patting your back a little too hard, nearly knocking the air from your lungs. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Yes, I read over the doctor’s notes.” Tech says. “I am pleased with the results of your tests.”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Good to see you too, Tech.”

Your body floods with shame as you turn to Echo, remembering what you had put him through in the cockpit in your desperation to end your suffering.

“Don’t.” He says, putting a hand on your shoulder. “You needed to try. I’m just sorry it didn’t work.”

You nod, squeezing his hand. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

He squeezes your shoulder again as you glance around. Hunter is nowhere to be found. Your brows pull together in a frown. Was he still being checked out? Did someone spill? Had they figured out what had happened and he was being reprimanded and being sent to be decommissioned. No, that wouldn’t be right. The others wouldn’t be so happy. They likely wouldn’t have let you walk out of there either.

“He’s on board.” Crosshair says, rolling his eyes. “Wallowing in his own self-made misery.”

They part the way for you, letting you walk up the steps into the Marauder. It feels different now, after what had happened. It’s been cleaned, likely meticulously by Tech while they waited. It hasn’t smelled this decent probably since it came off the line.

You walk through the cockpit into the hull. Hunter has his back to you, standing near the gunner’s chair. You approach slowly, knowing he knows you’re there. You can’t hide anything from him.

“Hunter?” You ask quietly, the others loading up behind you.

“Was it true?” He asks, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder. “What you said?”

You know what he’s talking about. You wanted him to know before, while there was still a shred of sanity. You wanted him to know in case he remembered. You didn’t want him to feel guilty.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yes. All of it.”

His shoulders slump, his head turning away from you. “It’s frowned upon.” He says. “We’re not supposed to fraternize.”

“Since when do you follow rules?” You say, voice shaking just a little.

His back straightens just a little, a laugh huffing from his chest. “You’re right.”

He turns, crossing the distance between you quickly. He takes you in his arms, pressing his lips against yours. You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips are soft against yours, teeth nibbling at your lower lip.

“You could at least wait until we take off.” Crosshair sighs behind you.

You giggle against Hunter’s lips, his hand lifting from your back for a moment and you can imagine the rude sign he had just flashed at Crosshair. You pull him back to you, pressing your lips against his once more.

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @sinfulsalutations @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #tbb hunter x reader #bad batch hunter x reader #x reader #clone thirsting #the dark side fic

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zoeykallus · 11 months

Note

Hiii Love you are amazing you know that right?🤩🤩

Can I maybe request one with the Reader being a Jedi and traveling with The Batch and she want‘s to learn how to shoot a Blaster and they do teach her but because of mutual attraction it is very hard to focus for both of them. (Maybe even with Rex?)

Aloha!

Didn't I do something similar to this in a way? But it was with a none Jedi fem reader, I think.

It's not exactly what you asked for, because in my head it didn't work out the way I wanted it too, so I played with a few ideaas. But I hope it's close enough.

The Bad Batch/Rex x Fem!Jedi!Reader HCs - Teach Me

Mostly Fluff

_________

Hunter

"We learn to deflect blaster shots," you say, easily deflecting a shot from the training droid, with your lightsaber at a dummy, "But we don't usually learn to do any shooting ourselves."

Hunter offers, "I could show you."

You smile, deflect another shot and say, "That doesn't mean I don't know how to do it"

The sergeant shrugs.

"Then show me what you can do."

You shut down the droid, put away your lightsaber, and walk over to him. With a small smirk, you stand in front of him. In the Force, you can sense that there is a certain excitement beneath his surface, but you can't quite place it at the moment.

"So, Sergeant, what do you want me to do?"

Hunter draws his own blaster and places it in your hand, your fingers touching for a brief moment. The touch feels like a spark, a small electric shock, as if from a static charge. For a second you feel very clearly how intensely Hunter is focused on you, how fast his heart is beating, and your own makes a small, surprising leap.

You need a small moment to collect yourself. You realize that you don't necessarily see him with Jedi eyes, that you see more in him than you should, but until just now you didn't realize it was also the other way around.

You look at the weapon briefly, then open yourself to the Force, turn briefly to the dummies, and fire several quick shots, each shot a bull's-eye.

Looking back at him and seeing the puzzled expression on his face, you ask, "Are you okay?"

"I-yeah, I'm fine. I just thought you never learned how to handle it."

You smirk and remind him, "I also said that doesn't mean I can't."

He nods and says, "Okay, yes I remember, but…. that good?"

"The Force guides my hand. A big advantage on my part," you say, still smirking.

You place the gun back in his hand, again your fingers touch, but this time you maintain contact longer. You take in his feelings, his confusion, how impressed he is, but most of all, the feeling of how much he enjoys this little touch, how much he longs to let his hand move over yours, up your arm to your face. For a moment, you can almost feel him doing it. But Hunter is decent, playing by the rules, even if he doesn't want to here and now. For the moment, it remains a fantasy.

Very slowly, almost languidly, you finally pull your hand back from his. You hear him sigh softly and almost do the same. Your eyes meet, lingering on each other.

With a cautious smile, you ask, "Can you maybe teach me some other things?"

Hunter takes a moment, blinking, finally he smiles gently and says, "I'm sure we'll figure something out."

Wrecker

He watches you, as he often does. You feel his gaze on you, his fascination, his admiration for you are so honest, so open and intense that sometimes your heart beats faster. Wrecker adores you, and you can feel that abundantly clear in the Force. But he's a good soldier, a decent man, he would never approach you without being asked, even if it's hard for him not to confess how much you mean to him by now. You sigh softly, take a deep breath, try to clear your thoughts. "What about blasters?" you suddenly hear him ask. You turn to face him. "Blasters?" Wrecker nods, pulls out his blaster and holds it out to you. You put your lightsaber away, step closer, and hesitantly reach for the weapon. You look at him questioningly, feeling that he's just trying to make contact with you, to spend time with you, and you feel flattered, but also nervous. You shouldn't actually like him as much as you do. "You know how to handle that?" You nod. "Yeah, I think so" You demonstrate your skills and Wrecker lets out an impressed whistle. "Is there anything you Jedi can't do?" You laugh softly and say, "There sure is a lot. For example, I barely know anything about explosives, grenades, and mines." He laughs happily, thumps the crate he was leaning against and says, "You've come to the right place! I can teach you anything" "You would do that?" You can feel Wrecker radiating pure joy, joyful anticipation, and the feeling passes over to you, putting a smile on your lips. "Of course. Little Jedi, I'll be happy to teach you everything I know"

You like it when he calls you that, it's so loving and full of affection.

Echo

He can't hide from you what he feels, even if most of the time you can't see it in any way, you feel the devoted longing he feels when he looks at you, thinks about you, it is omnipresent.

To the outside world no one would suspect it, Echo has himself under control, he is calm, reasonable, follows the rules. You've already caught yourself thinking about trying to draw him out.

During training, when he is watching you again more or less secretly, you speak to him. Echo almost falls off the ramp, startled, when you speak to him. He didn't expect you to have spotted him already.

He clears his throat, "Uh, yeah? How can I help?"

You pick up a training blaster and ask him to come closer.

"Would you teach me how to use this properly?"

Echo blinks, not responding immediately. His gaze drifts from your face to the blaster in your hand and back again. He seems puzzled, but he nods amiably and says, "Sure. What exactly do you want to know?"

"Well, anything important in theory," you say with a wry smile.

A small smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. Echo begins to explain to you how to load and unload the gun, and how to set the various modes, standing close to you, his eyes gazing deeply into yours every now and then. You can feel him looking forward to being useful to you.

"Understood so far?" he finally asks gently.

You nod.

"I think so"

"Maybe you should try it sometime, General".

There it is again, that impersonal word, that formal address. You know he's just doing what's theoretically expected of him, but you wish he'd call you by your name.

"What's the best way to aim?"

Echo stands close behind you, carefully grabs your hand and guides it. He talks, explains, you hear his voice, but the meaning of his words bounces off you, off the feel of his hand on your wrist, his chest against your back.

"General?" he finally asks in amazement.

"Yes?"

"Did you just hear what I said?"

There's a tingle under your skin, you look for an excuse and say as calmly as you can, "I'm sorry, I sensed something in the Force that I can't place, I'm not supposed to let it distract me, but every now, and then it still happens"

"Oh. I see. Do you want me to explain it again?"

You smile, the tingling under your skin getting stronger.

"'Please do."

A soft shiver runs through your body as his hand closes around your wrist again.

Tech

He's a little harder to read than others, his emotional world seems to function differently than you're used to from most. He is often completely silent, and the next moment he is radiating a thousand things. His thoughts are always in motion, and often you feel he can't quite reconcile his emotions with what he's thinking.

Sometimes it feels like he is stumbling, even though he is calm and clear. This happens more often around you. It takes a while, but you eventually realize that Tech is attracted to you, very much so. His way of evaluating and looking at things logically, gets in the way. He feels intensely, but differently. As said before, it's hard to read him, despite the Force.

But his nervousness always comes through quite clearly, noticeable in the Force. Tech stands near the training area, with his datapad in hand. His gaze wanders back and forth between you and the device in his hand.

He admires you, the elegance with which the Jedi fight, especially you. In his head, he automatically calculates how efficient your approach is.

As you finish and approach him, he says, "You were 20 seconds faster today."

You blink in surprise. But really, it shouldn't surprise you. Tech remembers everything, and it's actually typical for him to evaluate everything.

"Is that so?"

He pushes his goggles up the bridge of his nose with one of his, long, slender fingers and replies, "Indeed"

"Do you have any ideas on how I can be even more effective?" you ask with interest.

He looks at you in surprise, not expecting you to be interested in his opinion.

"Quite," he says with a small, barely noticeable smile.

Tech is on fire with the idea. He explains things to you, shows you a few things, touching your hands now and then to show you what he means. At the moment he radiates pure joy, he feels useful can be close to you, you listen to him.

He has a wonderfully lively moment with you, which you both enjoy very much. When you're done, you smile at him, sensing his curious, affectionate feeling for you.

"Maybe you can show me more things when you get a chance," you say softly.

Tech nods, delighted.

"I'd love to, General."

Crosshair

You perceive him as strangely reluctant. He's fascinated by you, in many ways, and at the same time he seems frustrated by it. There is always a restless wavering beneath his surface. He is attracted to you, but is all too aware of the prohibition of this feeling.

But still, he keeps coming to watch you train, and today is no exception.

"Effective," he says tersely, chewing on his toothpick.

"Thanks," you say with an implied smile.

He doesn't smile back; he almost never does.

You tell him with genuine interest, "I'm always amazed at how someone, without access to the Force, can be as effective as you."

Now a smirk does appear on his lips. He is flattered and that you of all people are giving him this compliment triggers a real wave of joy under his surface.

"Hmm, I was bred, trained and genetically programmed for this," he says, shrugging his shoulders as if it's nothing special.

"Still, your reaction time, your focus, your accuracy, are very amazing."

He laughs softly.

"I know."

He takes the toothpick out of his mouth and flicks it away. Then he takes his Firepunsher and holds it out to you.

"You want to try it?"

You blink in surprise and finally say, "I've never fired a gun like that before."

"I can show you," Crosshair offers.

A nervous tingle travels through your body.

"Okay. Teach me," you say with a small, nervous smile.

At first, you're almost overwhelmed, Crosshair seeking a lot of physical contact as he shows you the proper stance and what to do. Every little touch, every graze of his on your skin, leaves you with a hot, wild tingling sensation. You clearly feel that he feels the same way and have difficulty concentrating.

He is intense, you feel his hunger for more, that every touch is not enough for him, only ignites a longing for more. It makes you nervous, but still, you don't withdraw from him, on the contrary. Every contact is a small fire, a camouflaged caress, chaste on the surface but underneath, hungry and intense.

Finally, you stand there, both quite breathless, hearts racing and neither of you can really name why.

He asks, "You didn't understand a word I said, did you?"

"Hmm?"

Crosshair laughs softly and asks, "Again?"

You nod and say softly, "Again".

Rex

"General, if I may interject, you are holding the blaster far too tense".

You glance over your shoulder, you've felt his presence before and you've become nervous. You like Rex, more than you should, much more. Your desire to impress him has thrown you off track, destroyed your focus, and you've tensed up. You sigh softly.

"Of course you're allowed to weigh in, Rex, I always welcome your constructive criticism. I'm just not used to this kind of weapon."

Rex steps closer to you, removes his helmet and places it on a nearby crate. He smiles, a small, very gentle smile. For what feels like the thousandth time, all you can think about is how gorgeous he is.

He gently reaches out a hand to you and asks, "May I?"

His fingers touch yours, and for a moment, your whole body tenses.

"You need to relax a little," he says gently, leaning lightly against you from behind as he tries to loosen your fingers with his.

First you're too tense, then the blaster slips from your fingers. You laugh nervously and say, "Sorry."

"It's okay," Rex says gently, picking up the blaster again, and placing it back in your hand, "Just handle the blaster like you would your lightsaber, fluid but firm in your grip"

"That makes sense"

You get the hang of it, pleased that he is pleased with you, and at the same moment you regret that his lesson is over. However, you sense that he doesn't want to leave yet.

"Could you maybe show me again?" you ask cautiously.

His brows go up at first, but he nods, gets back into position, and gently guides your hand on the blaster. You sense something deep inside him, an affection so real and deep that it almost takes your breath away for a moment.

"Are you all right?" asks Rex with concern as you stiffen again.

You relax your muscles, take a deep breath, and say, "Yes, everything's fine, Rex."

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@starwarsnerd111

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inkformyblood · 5 months

Text

a missed connection (CWFKB2023) #1

Canon Divergence, Order 66 Happens Differently. Rough Kiss @codywanfirstkissbingo

The war is over. Mostly over.

A droid staggers sideways out of the gloom and Cody swings his fist at it’s head, barely pausing in his deliberate trudge forwards. The impact is muted, not just by the layers of plastoid around his hand or the heavy leather gloves that cut off his connection to everything, but by the sensation that Cody isn’t the one urging his body forward. There had been a comm message, a huddled figure in blue fragmented wireframe telling him to do… something.

No. Not him.

The order had been for CC-2224 and Cody hadn’t been CC-2224 for a very long time. CC-2224 died in the same instance that Cody had turned on the squeaking floor of a new battleship, his helmet clipped to his belt for all the good that the scrubbers in his filters did to remove the tang of fresh solder, and he had seen Obi-Wan for the first time. He can’t remember the moment in any great detail; his thoughts skitter away as if he’s trying to remember a lifetime brewed into a minute, but he hadn’t noticed the loss of CC-2224 until weeks later. That he could remember well, the scrap of flimsiwork trying to coax him back to Kamino for a routine procedure now that he was Republic property and not theirs. He’d lost the recall notice, immediately, into the fresher sink and ran the water until the pipes ran clear and the notice would have been nothing more than a distant memory if Cody hadn’t been completely and utterly himself.

What had the comm been?

It must have been important although he didn’t fully recognise the voice on the other end. Throughout the course of the war, and it had been a long course, doubling back to planets they had already been to because some bastards couldn’t realise when they’d been beaten, Cody had spoken to what felt like every single politician from here to the Outer Rim who had managed to squeeze themselves into sickly sweet politeness as they had shaken Cody’s hand and then congratulated him on ‘doing such a fine job for a clone’. Cody had smiled and nodded and imagined shooting them between the eyes. Fox had confessed over slightly too many drinks balanced out with some very strong coffees, that he imagined stabbing them, his eyes a little too wild for Cody to think he was being anything other than completely serious.

“Cody!”

Cody turns in an instant, thumbing the catch on his blaster and raising it in the same motion. Obi-Wan doesn’t pause like he should at the raised weapon, continuing on his intercept trajectory, and Cody has a moment to sigh out an exasperated “General,” before Obi-Wan crashes into him. He’s warm, solid beneath his layers of fabric, and it’s a wonder that he’s still got his robes on this late into a battle, but Cody leans into his embrace regardless, savouring the moment for as long as he can.

It never lasts long. They’ve still got a job to do. Or do they?

“General, did you get a comm?” Cody speaks into Obi-Wan’s shoulder, his words muffled by the soft weave of the other man’s robes. They taste of smoke, the sharp nebulous tang of ozone, and, beneath it all, the gentle florals of the Temple’s laundry. He’s still holding his blaster, now crushed between them, and Cody can feel Obi-Wan’s heart beat alongside his own

Obi-Wan draws back just enough to cup Cody’s face between his palms, his thumb smoothing over the raised edge of his scar. The whites of Obi-Wan’s eyes are bissected with broken red veins, but the blue is as vibrant as ever, the same shade as the holographs on their communicators.

“Did you get a comm, Cody?”

Cody, unwilling to do anything that would disrupt Obi-Wan’s hands, his own somehow wound through Obi-Wan’s belt to hold him impossibly closer, says, “Yes.”

They had been close before, an undercurrent of helpless yearning for something they couldn’t name, but this felt different. The war had ended. They were standing in the ‘after’.

“I wanted to do this properly but… forgive me?”

Obi-Wan leans forward and kisses him, roughly, their noses bumping together before Obi-Wan tips his head to get a better angle and Cody moves with him. He hasn’t closed his eyes and his vision blurs, the deep hue of Obi-Wan’s hair blending with the sunset behind him. The other man’s beard scratches against Cody’s cheeks as his mouth moves, and Cody huffs out a quiet noise in question. Obi-Wan’s thumb brushes over Cody’s cheek, and he could pull away but he doesn’t want to. He wants nothing less than this.

Something snaps in the back of his mind and Cody gasps against Obi-Wan’s mouth, sagging in his hold, and Obi-Wan draws back, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m sorry, my love, I wanted to kiss you for the first time properly, after a true date, but I… there’s a chip in your head.”

“Ow,” Cody groans, solidly knocking his forehead against Obi-Wan’s and feeling the reverberation in his teeth. “A slave chip?”

“Control. There’s already been a few fights but for the most part, it seems like the activation was a failure. I wanted to kiss you, truly, I did, but it also helped me break the chip.”

Cody breathes out slowly, prodding his tongue against the swell of his lower lip. “Are you going to have to kiss the entire army for this?”

“No.” Obi-Wan’s cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of pink. This close, Cody could almost feel the heat radiating from his skin. “It was faster for you this way. And I did want to.”

“Would you like to again?” Cody waits for Obi-Wan to nod before he leans forward to kiss him for the second time, gentler this time. He’s always been a quick study, after all.

#codywan #cwfkb2023 #cwfkb #codywan first kiss bingo #codywan first kiss bingo 2023 #star wars #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #my writing #fanfic

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jedimandalorian · 5 months

Text

This is an excerpt from my songfic WIP “I’ll Be Home for Life Day.” I’m writing this for the @sabezra-life-day-celebration which you shippers should follow for updates. 😉

*****

I'll be home for Life Day

You can count on me

Please have snow and mistletoe

And presents by the tree.

Ezra Bridger stood there just staring with his eyes wide and lips parted, momentarily distracted from his work and fascinated by the sight of Hera Syndulla and Kanan Jarrus slow dancing to the familiar tune of “I’ll Be Home for Life Day” in the main hold of the Ghost. Ezra couldn’t stop himself from grinning at this very rare display of public affection between the two of them. Kanan was softly crooning the song’s lyrics right next to Hera’s ear-cones and was looking quite pleased that he brought such a rosy flush to her ordinarily cool green complexion.

Ezra was supposed to be helping Sabine decorate the holiday tree with glow spheres and colorful hand painted ornaments, but the sight of such a tender moment between his captain and his master reminded him of how his parents had danced to that very same song when he was a little boy. The end result was always the same: Ephraim Bridger always steered his wife Mira over to the doorway where the mistletoe was hung so he could steal a kiss from her. From the time little Ezra was old enough to toddle over to them, his father would lift him into his arms and hold him under the mistletoe so that his mother could kiss his cheek and they could both tell him how much he was loved. His mother and father did that every year until he was six.

Ezra closed his eyes and shook his head as if to ward off the painful memories of what happened on his seventh birthday. After that terrible day he had spent every Life Day on his own. There were no more Life Day trees, no more mistletoe kisses, no more presents…

…that is, until last year. Hera’s gift was the first present he had opened. She had bought him a new pair of red pajamas printed with drawings of silly, playful brown Loth-cats. Some fifteen year-old boys would have been embarrassed to wear such childish-looking sleepwear, but Ezra, who had recognized the drawings as Sabine’s own doodles, realized that Hera had them custom made for him. Ezra, who for years had only worn second-hand clothing that he had nicked or salvaged from recycling bins, had new pajamas that had been made just for him. He had launched himself into Hera’s arms, hugging her with a muffled “thanks” as he hid his face in her shoulder so that the others would not see that his eyes were watering.

“Ezra?” Sabine’s voice brought him back into the present moment. “You okay?”

Ezra hastily wiped his eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine. Is this one the last of the glow spheres? I thought we had more of them last year.”

“Here comes Chopper with the rest of them now,” Sabine said as the droid rolled over to them with another big tray of glow globes.

“Come on, we have to finish up before lunchtime. You’re getting your Life Day present early this year.”

“Early?” Ezra asked. Zeb had ambled over to them with the life-star, which he had the honor of placing on the top of the tree, since he was the only one tall enough to reach the top. “Why am I getting my present early?”

“We all chipped in to get you a gift card,” Zeb explained.

“Yep,” Sabine added. “And I’m in charge of your makeover.”

“Sabine’s taking you to the Spiral City Mall this afternoon to help you pick out some new clothes,” Zeb added.

“But—“ Ezra began, as if to protest.

“Make the kid pick out some new basics too,” Zeb said with a grimace. “I don’t think he owns any socks or underwear that aren’t torn or full of holes.”

Chopper’s electronic giggle made Sabine bite her lip, as if she was desperately trying not to laugh.

“Zeb!” Ezra exclaimed angrily. “That’s not true!” His face was red with embarrassment. “And I don’t need Sabine’s help to pick out under—“

“O Holey Drawers!” Zeb sang in synch with the next Life Day carol on the music-player. “Your bum is nearly showing!”

Sabine and Chopper collapsed in a fit of giggles, and Ezra found himself wishing for an air vent so he could crawl into it and not come out until New Year’s Day.

As if sensing how much Ezra wanted them to change the subject, Sabine came to his rescue. “Oh, they are so sweet,” she commented. Ezra, Chopper, and Zeb turned to look in the direction that Sabine had indicated. They all saw that Kanan was stealing a kiss from Hera under the mistletoe.

Ezra watched them with interest. Smooth, he thought. In a quiet moment he had with Kanan several weeks before, he had confessed his crush on Sabine and then asked Kanan how he managed to get Hera to return his feelings.

Kanan had looked thoughtful for a moment, then replied, “Kid, I might be with Hera, but that doesn’t mean I know how I did it.” Ezra shared a good laugh with his master over that. Kanan opened his mouth as if to say more, then stopped himself. Visions of a future that Ezra could not see clouded Kanan’s blind eyes.

After a long silence, Kanan finally said, “If it is the will of the Force, it will happen. And if it’s going to happen it will be when you’re both more mature and ready for it. For now, you should enjoy your friendship with Sabine, and value how close the two of you have become. Just take things slowly with her. Always be a gentleman, and trust the Force.”

Ezra snapped out of his reverie when Zeb punched his arm. “Are you studying his snogging technique for future reference, Lover Boy?” Chopper guffawed at this. Ezra was glad that Sabine was busy putting away the ornament boxes at that moment. He hoped she was out of earshot.

Zeb leaned down and stage-whispered to Ezra, “Let Sabine have her fun with you at the mall. You know how females are about shopping.”

Ezra nodded.

“Who knows? If you play your cards right, she might even let you hold her hand.” Zeb winked.

Chopper burbled something Zeb couldn’t understand.

“What did he say?”

Ezra was reluctant to translate what Chopper said. It was something like, “Ezra had better play his cards right with Sabine or the only hand he’ll be holding is an Idiot’s Array.”

Of course, Chopper probably intended to call Ezra an idiot by saying that, but he didn’t mind. An Idiot’s Array was still a winning hand in sabaac.

*****

So who wants Sabine and Ezra to go on a “mall date”? What sort of shenanigans should they get into?

What do you think of this story so far?

#sabine wren #ezra bridger #star wars #ahsoka series #sabezra #ezrabine #star wars rebels #hera syndulla #kanan jarrus #chopper #zeb orrelios #mira bridger #ephraim bridger #life day #sabezralifeday2023 #kanera

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dyns33 · 2 years

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Flufftober 14 - Star Wars

Poe Dameron x Reader

A rumour circulated in the Resistance : Poe Dameron, Black Leader, the best pilot, was not afraid of anything.

Absolutely nothing, ever.

He was ready to do anything to win the war against the New Republic. Of course, he didn't want to lose his squad, he did everything to get everyone back to base after each mission, he stood in front of them, ready to take the shots for them, drawing the ships behind him to create a diversion, when he was not doing loops and other dangerous figures only to amuse the people of the Resistance in order to cheer them up.

Even though they were all very impressed, people still trembled a little when they saw him do it. Oh, they knew he was the best, as his reputation said, but they didn't want anything to happen to him.

Some of his relatives told him so, begging him to be more careful, like General Organa, Finn or Rey. It just made him laugh.

Then there was Y/N, who also ordered him to stop his nonsense, but for other reasons.

"Your ship is in for a pitiful state. Again."

"My ship is doing very well !"

"As good as your droid ! Poor BB8, you're all broke. Your owner is such a fool."

"I take very good care of BB8 and my ship !"

"You are the pilot and I am the mechanic, I am the one who says if you take good care of your devices, and my verdict is clear, you suck !"

"OH ! Take that back !"

Every time he returned to the base, Poe would park in the same spot in the hangar, and people were wondering if it was because he was fearless, headless, or something else, because he knew very well that it was this section that Y/N was responsible for, and that she systematically criticized him.

"Do you know how much time I have to spend on your ship's repairs, Dameron ?" she growled. "You are not alone here, the others also need me to check that everything is fine before leaving. I don't want there to be an accident during the flights."

"Well darling, if you're being so thorough because you're worried about me, you can tell me, and you can stop, because as the best pilot in the resistance, I know what I'm doing."

"I don't care if you crash into an asteroid, I don't want this jewel I've been working on for hours to have a single scratch. And I want BB8 back at the base !"

"So it's fine, since my ship is perfect and BB8 follows me everywhere !" he said with a forced smile.

"He follows you everywhere to prevent you from doing stupid things !"

"Beep beep !"

"You... BB, you're supposed to be on my side ! Come on, I can fix you myself, while Miss Mechanic pretends to take care of my perfect ship !"

"I'm going to make it even more perfect, and I'll check everything you've done to this poor droid to keep it from falling apart !"

From the other end of the hangar, Finn and Rey watched the scene, still the same, wondering if they should intervene.

After the third argument, it seemed obvious to the apprentice jedi that these two were idiots who dared not admit their feelings to each other. Finn hadn't been immediately convinced, but after the sixteenth argument, he was beginning to see what she meant.

"It's like a courtship. They go like they hate each other, but they actually love each other."

"Why don't they just tell each other ?" asked the former stormtrooper.

"Because they are stupid, like many people. They wonder if the other shares their feelings, and they are afraid of being rejected. They may also be afraid of what other people will say if they are together. And it's war, it's dangerous to get attached to someone."

Rey was right to say that. When the base was attacked, there was panic, and everyone tried to flee by saving the most people and bringing the most equipment, so they could continue to fight later.

In a panic, Poe focused on what was around him, the General, BB8, Finn, Rey and his squad. Together they managed to repel the enemy troops long enough for evacuation, then they joined the resistance in their new hideout.

It was upon landing that Poe immediately noticed something was wrong.

Y/N wasn't there to greet him with her criticisms and check to see if he had broken anything.

"... Where's Y/N ?" he asked several people in the hangar.

"I don't know. I haven't seen her."

"Not seen... Since when ?"

"During the attack. She was helping pilots in the North Complex. I don't know what happened to her after. Sorry."

Ignoring anyone who wished to speak to him to thank him for saving them or to ask him what they should do next, Poe ran all over the new base, looking for Y/N.

She wasn't in the infirmary. Nor in the private quarters being set up. Nor in the command room

Totally panicked, followed by BB, who was rolling behind him as fast as he could, Poe tried not to cry as he raced down the halls.

Until he bumped into someone who was carrying several boxes.

"I hope you take a better look at where you're going when you're in your ship, Dameron."

"... Y/N !"

Not giving her time to understand what was going on, not even having time to think himself, Poe took her in his arms, suddenly feeling relieved.

She was there, she was alive.

Timidly, still holding her boxes with one arm, she patted his back, sighing and resting her head on his shoulder.

"I take it your ship needs some repairs ? I heard you had a few issues up there before you could blow them all up."

"Yeah. It may need some repairs."

"Hmm. I'll go take care of it."

"Wait. Wait a bit."

They stood here, hugging for several more minutes, until Y/N was too embarrassed by the people watching them.

Then there was a new rumour in the resistance : Poe Dameron, the best pilot, and his mechanic, liked each other. But, like... Liked liked.

And if there was one thing that scared Black Leader, it was to lose her.

#star wars #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfiction #flufftober 2022

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short-wooloo · 1 year

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Favorite Lightsabers explanations

original post:

https://www.tumblr.com/short-wooloo/714444043240783872/short-wooloo-favorite-jedi-lightsabers-1-mace

1. Mace: THE purple lightsaber, to the point that I'm unwilling to accept anyone else having a purple saber while Mace is alive (before or after is fine, but my headcanon is Mace's concentrated awesomeness caused the Force to go "no one else gets a purple one"), the shock and surprise at a purple saber onscreen in aotc is one of my most cherished memories, I also love the hilts design, the slender semi-symmetry and gold accents

2. Yoda: I can never get over the simple fact that Yoda has a lightsaber, as a kid I didn't think it was allowed, so seeing him draw his saber in the theater (much like Mace's purple) blew my mind, and I love how Yoda's saber has some visual cues and similarities to the other sabers of the lineage

3. Obi-Wan (TPM): this one was MY LIGHTSABER as a kid, I had a toy of this one and I'd spend hours running around pretending to be Obi-Wan and cut down battle droids

4. Luke: the original green lightsaber, everyone who has one lives in Luke's shadow, I also think Luke's is a better version of Obi-Wan's lightsaber design, the mostly silver with a hint of Bronze accenting it really just works, and the green is just so pretty, this saber is the reason why the high end toy saber I bought has a green blade

5. Stellan Gios: I love it because it does something I never considered, it's BOTH kinds of crossguard saber! Physical and energy blade, thus it's also insanely practical too! Now your hands are protected from the crossguard blades, and I like how when deactivated the physical crossguard folds up

6. Rey: first yellow saber onscreen! Wish it hadn't been only at the end, would have put this one higher (3rd or 4th) if so (at least I have the LEGO Holiday special), but since Rey's getting a new movie, we'll see more of it in action and I'll have to move it up on the list, but anyways I love how it's made from Rey's staff, it represents where she came from and what she’s become, symbolism is great

7. Tenel Ka: Its a lightsaber made into a tooth, that is so cool, love it, reused it for an oc, also it's the only instance I can think of in SW where a first attempt at building a lightsaber went wrong and the builder had to redo it

8. F: Yellow lightsaber and a katana? Yes please!

9. Zayne Carrick: I don’t think he was the one who introduced me to the idea of yellow lightsabers, but he is the one who popularized it for me, and I think he’s the first major/lead protagonist in a SW story to have one, or at the very least his story was the first I read where the lead had a yellow lightsaber

10. Gungi: I love stuff carved from wood, my favorite aesthetic, so a lightsaber with a wooden hilt is an instant win for me, and the green blade just makes it feel so natural

Bonus, Megatron: it's purple and its a transformer lightsaber! It needs to be in more Megatron toys

@ensomniaa

#wooloo-writes #wooloo writes #star wars #sw #lightsabers #mace windu #rey #rey skywalker #yoda #obi wan kenobi #stellan gios #gungi #tenel ka djo #zayne carrick #sw visions f #luke skywalker #megatron #transformers

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depressed-sock · 8 months

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Empty of Everything but This (2760 words) Fandom:Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Mature Characters: Granta Omega, Dooku | Darth Tyranus, Nala Se, Clone Granta Omega Bad Thing Happen Bingo: Conditioning

Prompt was conditioning so I went with reconditioning lol

Inspired by the many Blackkat Granta and Xanatos fics I binged and also the Starkiller clone problem where the clones kept remembering Starkiller's memories (Dooku wants that outcome, except for the part where he realizes he might have not wanted this particular outcome lol)

...

There are three things that Granta knows for certain about his situation. The first is that the cell that is his home is on the bad days colder than the darkest pits of space. His copied memories are at least reliable enough to tell him that much.

The second is that he has a dying urge to stab Count Dooku right in the soft spot between his ribs. Granta makes sure to project this thought as loudly as possible in the hope that his defect continues to be a defect so that he can at least get some pleasure in torturing Dooku and any other force-sensitive in radius this way.

The third is that his name is Granta Omega but he is not the first Granta Omega. He doubts he’s even the second let alone the third Granta Omega.

There is a quiet thought in the back of his head that wonders if any of those Granta’s had denied the name, the memories, the legacy that came with it. Maybe they even chose a new name in defiance of Dooku’s expectations.

He hasn’t even considered it for himself. This version of Granta clings to the ghost of what was and could have been like a man dying of thirst. It’s the only thing he can call his own and it’s not even his. That’s fine. The original would have done the same thing, stolen what he wanted. Murdered whoever stood in the way.

So for now this version of Granta stands on the corpses of his predecessors.

Well… more like sits in his cell, up against the back wall, curled in on himself in pain. But really, who's keeping score? Not the dead certainly.

Granta adjusts his position, biting his lip as pain sparks through his limbs. The droids didn’t draw blood this time but it’s only a matter of time before they come again. Demanding obedience and subservience to the Count like the last couple of times they’ve visited him.

He doesn’t really understand the point of all this. Dooku gave him the original’s memories, told him exactly what he is. A poorly made copy that could still have some use to him. If Dooku had offered him a purpose, let Granta take the reigns and lead the charge he would have taken it up. He’s got that part of the original in him.

That craving for purpose. To be of use. Whether it be to ghosts that haunted his past or to the living.

But Dooku had made the mistake of trying to chain and beat him into servitude. So now resistance is a matter of pride. He’ll give Dooku nothing.

Granta opens his eyes sluggishly. Staring at the grey brick walls. He can hear footsteps coming down the corridor and he makes no further move to acknowledge them.

There are days when he swears that screaming always follows those footsteps. Not always his own. Sometimes a mockery of his voice. Another clone failing whatever requirements Dooku has demanded of them. Sometimes the screams are entirely unrecognizable.

Granta blinks, breathing in a hiss as Dooku stands towering over his form. A few steps back from where Granta knows his chains would end. He must have lost track of time again shit.

“Granta.” The old bastard speaks as if he has any right to Granta’s name. Like it isn’t because of him that Granta is here in the first place. Here and existing. He owes Dooku none of his loyalty just for having him created. Dooku must hear something from his mind because he sneers down at Granta as he says, “I see that you’re still being uncooperative.”

Granta grins lazily, letting his head thunk back against the wall, “You should come closer and unchain me. Then I can show you just how uncooperative I can be.”

Dooku hums, “Yes, I’m sure that worked well on the last servant you convinced to get close. How did he die again? A broken neck?”

“Suffocation,” Granta corrects sweetly, batting his eyes. “Really that was his own fault though. Should have been more careful around the dangerous creature you specifically made to kill people with.”

Dooku scoffs, “I see the memories have settled fully into that head of yours. Granta never did think much of himself beyond his schemes and Xanatos’s revenge. His other skills are what I need.”

“Other skills we both know I don’t have.” He’s not a force blank, not like the original. Must have been such a disappointment to the old bastard. “Or are you talking about our real area of expertise?”

The original was more than what he’d been made to be. This Granta knows that with each thought and idea that pops into his head. Each skill that had been carefully crafted to enact revenge has been used to escape this hell multiple times.

It’s why he’s not allowed anything in his cell anymore that could be used as a weapon or worse, a tool.

He remembers the first time he’d ever officially woken up. Groggy, confused. Wondering how he was alive when he clearly remembered Dooku skewering him. He’d panicked at first, then he’d done what he did best. It had been child’s play to get out, the only thing that had gotten him caught was the fact that he didn’t inherit the original’s true gift.

A force blank could have walked out of here without getting caught but Granta doesn’t have that. No matter how every part of him reaches for it.

It didn’t stop him from escapes two through ten. It would have gone farther than that but that’s about when they started beating and starving him.

Dooku’s foot kicks him right between his ribs, forcing his attention back to the present as he grits his teeth. “Fortunately I’ve been told there’s a solution for my problem with you.”

“Oh? Is my time up already?” he laughs rough and blistering, ignoring the pain that jars through him. “What number am I anyway? The fifth? The hundredth? You couldn’t have gotten much from a decaying body without there being too many differences after a while so I’ve got to be within that range.”

Not that he’s actually seen what he looks like. No opportunities for vanity when you’re entire short life is spent in a cell.

Dooku’s mouth thins as he stares Granta down. Then he walks off, with a turn of his heel, and a fluttering of his robes. It brings forth a memory, of Xanatos doing that exact same turn with Granta on the floor in an almost similar position. It’s uncanny.

Force Granta hopes the bastard dies from a heart attack.

…

Dooku brings in actual human guards this time around which is a surprise considering Granta’s habit of killing the help. Dooku stands back in the doorway letting thug one and two enter. Reaching out to try and grab Granta, making an attempt to drag him from his cell. He lets them get as far as unchaining his cuffs before he strikes out with a piece of broken electrostaff he’s had hidden up the sleeve of his shirt.

It had imbedded itself in Granta's stomach on a particularly rough round of torture and he decided to save for a rainy day. Something which he’s so glad he did as he stabs it into thug one’s eye and then pivots enough to lunge at thug 2. Sinking his teeth into their throat, biting down hard enough to bloody his teeth. The scream that elicits is like music to Granta's ears. For once he gets to make someone else suffer instead of it being him.

He feels something tighten around his throat. Choking and strangling, trying to force him away from his victim. He refuses to let go, they’ll have to kill him first before he willingly lets go. He can’t breathe and he forces his jaw to clench harder even as the thug scrapes at Granta’s face trying to force him away.

It’s only when Granta starts to get dizzy that his body betrays him, losing his hold as the person tears away from him. Granta is left gasping for air as whatever is around his throat tightens hard enough to make his spine creak.

Granta’s knees hit the ground and he has enough awareness to glare up at Dooku before everything in his head dims to black spots.

He wakes up colder than before, in a metal cell instead of his brick one. This time his hands are cuffed behind him and a muzzle has been placed over his face. Unconsciously he licks his lips tasting the dried blood that stains them. Satisfaction curls deep in Granta’s gut that whoever did muzzle him was too afraid to put any fingers too close.

Granta can’t keep track of time here and hasn’t been able to for as long as he’s been alive because he’s never had access to that kind of privilege. So his best guess is that they keep him in the cell for a day before a new set of guards enter, drag him to his feet, and march out. Out of the cell and into the depths of what he realizes is a ship, then down the ramp of the ship and out into the rain that soaks immediately through his thin shirt and pants.

His teeth chatter, his bare feet stumble, but these bastards are on a mission and Granta has no choice but to keep going as they drag him into the slick white building. The hallway they force him down is so white and sterile it sets his teeth on edge in an unfamiliar way that echoes with familiarity.

Somewhere deep down Granta knows this place.

A group of identical children are the only people they encounter and they only stare to gawk for a second before they rush off. Looking terrified by what they’ve seen. Maybe by Granta himself. He’s sure he doesn’t look in any way pleasant soaked and blooded.

Their final destination is a lab that spikes panic through Granta like nothing he’s felt before. Dooku could never invoke this kind of response in him. He doesn’t understand why a room alone would.

He tries to breathe through the panic, loosening his muscles, forcing himself to calm at least physically as he’s brought into the room. A long-necked alien waits for him, hand skimming over surgical tools before they look up and blinks slowly at him.

“Strap it down on the table.” The alien motions towards a metal table and Granta is forced towards it, despite how he tries to fight against their grip.

He doesn’t want this. He does not want this.

The guards push him onto the table holding him down before they twist him enough to uncuff his hands and strap them down to the table. He fights it, even though he can’t fight it with how exhausted he is already. He bares his teeth at the alien who closes in on him, connecting him to machines through wires and electrodes.

“Why is it muzzled?”

One of the guards wince, “It’s a biting hazard. Almost ripped Kolat’s throat out.”

The alien hums as they tap something on their datapad, “Take it off, it’ll interfere with the procedure.”

“Yes,” Granta breathes out through a laugh, “By all means, you should get close enough to take it off.”

The guards glance at each other before the one who’d been speaking says, “We’re not being paid for that. You want it off? You take it off.”

The alien stares at them like they’re the dumbest beings in the universe before she sniffs grabs Granta by his hair and slams his head hard into the table. He hisses, dazed enough that he can’t react when the muzzle slips free from his face.

“Leave the room. I don’t need imbeciles to interfere with a delicate medical procedure.”

The guards don’t argue, making a hasty retreat. Granta winces as the alien jabs something into his neck. “What are you going to do to me?”

They blink down at him, head tilted in that special way that transcends species that say that they’re looking down their nose at him. “I’m going to fix you.”

Well, that’s certainly a sentence to inspire fear, is the last thing he thinks before pain suddenly screams through him.

…

Dooku stands behind a glass wall as he watches the cloned body of Granta Omega scream and twitch. “You’re certain that this will work?”

Nala Se taps something out into her computer before she looks up through the glass to stare at Dooku. “It’s a specially developed reconditioning we’ve been developing with the other clones. It should remove all of Granta Omega’s memories from the clone while keeping intact all of the skills.”

“Should,” Dooku’s eyebrow twitches. This is the first clone who has even taken to the memories let alone most of the skills of the original. “I will be sorely upset if you’ve completely reset all of our progress.”

“The clone will have the skills you require of it,” she says with certainty, hitting a dial causing the clone’s back to arch off the table with another scream. “It’s why I perfected it with the others. There’s enough of them that if one breaks it can be easily replaced.”

“Just make sure not to break the one clone we can’t afford to replace.” Dooku turns, walking off as Nala Se continues her… ministrations. He may as well make sure that Fett and this army is coming along as it should be.

He returns several hours later. The clone of Granta sits empty and blank on the table as Nala Se writes on her datapad. She looks up as he enters the room and motions him closer.

“Infiltrator-1 is fully up and running. We’ll have it run through some tests, make sure all its skills are accounted for.” She eyes Dooku carefully as she adds, “It hasn’t spoken yet but that’s normal, speech will return within the next few days.”

“I would certainly hope so considering that’s a part of his skillset I require.” He carefully looks over the body, noting that at some point Nala Se had, had the blood cleaned from it. It feels… different than what he’d anticipated. If he hadn’t known better he’d think that this clone was the original Granta Omega considering how… fake it feels.

Not like it had before. When it’s mind was a hive that couldn’t shut down for even a moment. Dooku doesn’t know what it says that the copy felt more like a person than the original ever did.

“It’s mind is completely blank,” he says with a displeased frown. He’d wanted the memories gone not the intelligence.

Nala Se frowns, looks down at her datapad, types something and shakes her head, “I’m getting readings of full brain activity. It’s normal for a clone to take a few moments to readjust to a mind without memories… maybe that’s what you’re pick up on?” She sets the datapad down, grabs a light and flashes a light into it’s eyes. “I’ll still order a full health check of course. It wouldn’t do to lose the only viable clone we have of him.”

“I will be greatly disappointed if you’ve done anything to permanently damage my property Nala Se.” Dooku sneers. He can’t afford to kill her but he can make her suffer for her own arrogance.

“That will-”

The body moves, fast and unpredictable as a scalpel slams into Nala Se’s chest, pushing her back as the clone moves to run. Easily dodging past Dooku’s surprised form and nearing the door at a speed it shouldn’t be capable of in its current state. Dooku reaches out a hand, the force curling to his will but when he directs it towards Granta it doesn’t take hold like it had before.

It’s like his power slides just left of the clone as it makes it out the door and into the hall.

Dooku can’t help but stare after him before a laugh overtakes him. “Ah, perfect, it seems you solved another one of our problems quite unintentionally doctor. “

She groans, pulling the knife free and glaring at Dooku but he waves her off, as he stalks forward. It would be best to concentrate on Granta and not lose that thread of thought least he lose his prey. “Be a dear and alert the facility that there’s a loose clone I want alive. And put it on repeat otherwise, I fear we may forget what we’re chasing.”

#star wars #bad things happen bingo #conditioning #reconditioning #Granta Omega #count dooku #fanfiction #my writing #sock-writes #writer on tumblr

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inyri · 2 years

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Equivalent Exchange (a SWTOR story): Chapter 40: Swords of Damocles

Equivalent Exchange by inyri

Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Characters: Female Imperial Agent (Cipher Nine)/Theron Shan Rating: E (this chapter: M. Trigger warning: graphic violence.) Summary: If one wishes to gain something, one must offer something of equal value. In spycraft, it’s easy. Applying it to a relationship is another matter entirely. F!Agent/Theron Shan. (Spoilers for Shadow of Revan and Knights of the Fallen Empire/Knights of the Eternal Throne.)

Comments are always appreciated! Visit me at:

Archive of Our Own

Fanfiction Dot Net

(Two moves- India and now the Middle East, COVID, work, COVID at work, toddler parenthood and a partridge in a pear tree. I forgot how to word for a while, I think.

And then, one day, they came back.)

Chapter Forty: Swords of Damocles

Void, she’s tired.

Only tired, she tells herself as she lowers herself to the floor to sit beside the now-snoring ‘Pub. Only tired. She’ll be fine. It isn’t that much blood, really. She’s had worse.

The door slides open and SCORPIO stands silhouetted in the dim light from the corridor, eyes glowing yellow and a sturdy black canvas bag dangling from one metallic hand. “Commander. As requested.”

“You’re certain this is the only attacker, SCORPIO?” Lana’s still half-hidden behind the doorframe. “I know you’re still monitoring but-” she peers around the droid and must be able to see her now, the way her eyebrow just disappeared somewhere between her hairline and the stratosphere- “oh, for fuck’s sake, Nine-”

“Blame him.” Head tilted toward her assailant as they surround her, Lana at her right hand and Doctor Lokin at her left, she makes a face at Lana even as they’re all pulling supplies out of Lokin’s bag. “He started it.”

(She’s hoarser than she’d thought, or perhaps she can hear better as the echo of the flashbang fades from her ears.

She’s had worse.)

Lana crouches down beside her, easing her down to lie flat on the debris-studded ground. “And you finished it, I see. I’m surprised he’s still breathing. Do we know who he is?”

“Best guess? Trying to call in the death mark. And of course he’s still breathing- he can’t answer questions if he’s dead. Now stop fussing over me and get those restraints on him. I don’t know-” she clears her throat, hissing as Lokin shifts position and something sharp pricks the side of her neck- “I don’t know how long the sedatives will hold him. If he gets loose again he’ll go straight for the target and he clearly doesn’t care about collateral damage. He could-”

SCORPIO drops the duffel bag and draws out a set of stun cuffs. “You may wish to see to this, Doctor, or he may not survive long enough to question.” The droid prods at the wound in the man’s thigh even as she snaps one cuff closed around his wrist, pulls his other arm roughly behind his back and fastens the other cuff; he groans, head lolling to one side. “That would be a shame. I do so enjoy interrogations.”

Lana wrinkles her nose when she thinks no one is looking, quickly shifting back into neutrality when Nine glances in her direction. “With all of this, you don’t think you were his target?”

“SCORPIO didn’t brief you?”

“Too many ears in the corridor,” the droid murmurs, “including Agent Shan. Brevity was required.”

She tries and fails to sit upright, one of Lokin’s hands on her forehead holding her down against the floor. “I told you to keep him occupied. If there’s a second agent-”

SCORPIO’s eyes flicker briefly; if she didn’t know better she’d swear that was an approximation of an eyeroll. “He is with Doctor Oggurobb now-” another flicker, this time almost certainly hooking into the surveillance mainframe. She’s lost track of the number of times she’s told her not to do that but it does have its uses- “discussing requisitions requests. He is well-guarded.”

“Theron clearly wasn’t the only target.” Lana frowns, tracing the curve of her neck with one careful fingertip. “Any other wounds we should know about?”

“Not for lack of trying. He’s armored-”

“I meant on you, you- Nine.” Lana catches herself just in time. “Or is all that blood from him?”

Bacta gel now, cool and viscous and sharp-smelling as Lokin clicks his tongue and readies another injector. “Nearly all hers, I think. Quite unlike you to end up on the wrong side of a knife, Commander.”

“He got the drop on me,” she murmurs, closing her eyes, “and it was a garotte. ‘s different.”

Only silence for a moment, punctuated by another, sharper groan from her assailant- she smiles a bit at that despite herself; she’s never had any particular illusion that SCORPIO saw her as anything other than an ally of convenience, but that might be the closest the droid will ever come to sentiment- before Lana clears her throat. “Yes. Of course.” Another pause, and then- “Where are we going to put him? We aren’t equipped to maintain prisoners.”

“I don’t plan on keeping him here long-term. As soon as he’s fit to talk, he talks and we get rid of him.”

“In a technical sense, or a literal sense?”

She shrugs. “That depends on him. And his employer. SCORPIO, search him and get access to any communications devices he has. If he’s anywhere near as sloppy as his counterpart I may not need him to talk at all.”

“I’ll allow the use of my laboratory, in the short term,” Lokin murmurs. “He does require some degree of medical care, and the room itself is quite secure. And well soundproofed.” For a moment she thinks of Alderaan and she can feel the memory of his growl in her bones, imagines the sharp tips of claws like so many needles in her wire-bitten skin. “Not precisely the eventuality it was planned for, but it would serve as a temporary prison.”

“Fine.” Lana’s hand rests against her forehead. “We can move the Commander to-”

“I can move myself, thank you very much. My legs are perfectly functional-” she wiggles her feet by way of proof- “no assistance required. Just point me toward a ‘fresher to rinse this mess off and I’ll meet you in the lab.”

Lokin chuckles as he starts to shift away from her. “I think not. Run program six on your shipboard tank for two hours and I’ll be by to check on you. That should be sufficient to-”

Oh, she is so tired of that Force-damned tank.

“Absolutely not.” Forcing herself to sit up (the room spins as her eyes open, but only for a moment; she can work with that for now), she shakes her head irritably. “There’s already far too much to do before we leave for Voss without this idiot added to the mix. I don’t have two hours to spare.”

This time the claws are decidedly unimaginary, a clenched hand holding her still. “That wasn’t a suggestion, Commander. You requested my skills-” for him, she protests half-heartedly until he grips hard enough to pierce flesh- “and that is my assessment. More to the point, you’re going to have some significant explaining to do unless you plan to conduct the remainder of your meetings today from stealth.”

All right. Perhaps he has a point.

She scowls. “One hour.”

“Ninety minutes.” He relaxes his hold. “Lord Beniko, please see that she reaches her ship without incident. I will need SCORPIO to transport our guest.”

Lana nods.

A thud, next, followed by a very loud grunt, a second thud and the sound of a zipper being fastened: when she turns to look SCORPIO’s already standing with an overladen and faintly snoring duffel bag held over one shoulder. “Cargo secured. After you.”

When they are alone Lana sits down heavily beside her, legs bent and elbows resting on knees and head in hands. “You could have waited for me, you know. No one’s asking you to do everything on your own, and if he’d managed to-”

“No,” she sighs. “I couldn’t. Any longer and he’d have assumed Theron wasn’t taking the bait and either gone to ground or done something particularly reckless-” her shirt’s going sticky now, clinging and uncomfortable and too warm and she pulls at the collar of her armor peevishly- “and it very likely would have been the latter. And now it’s handled.”

“Why are you so certain he wasn’t after you? You’re still alive, but not for apparent lack of trying on his part. Or did Valk-”

The words come out unbidden, hissed through gritted teeth. “Don’t say it, he’ll hear you.” Lana winces and covers her mouth as Nine braces herself, waits for him to push his way forward again but it’s quiet; if Valkorion heard his name spoken, for once he doesn’t seem to care. “No, nothing like that this time. SCORPIO was ignoring orders and intercepted a message in mid-transmission that-”

“I thought we’d agreed she isn’t supposed to have that level of network access.”

“She isn’t, but you know she does as she pleases. I’ll see to it. In any case,” she continues, “it was good luck that she did. It was exactly the sort of thing that would have had Theron running right down here to investigate, and I don’t know if-” she swallows. She doesn’t want to think about that and-

(-and there it is, image after image after image like flashbulbs going off inside her head of Theron on the floor of the storeroom, still and silent, throat laid open and the bright spark gone from his eyes.

She knows how it would have gone. She knows. But there is knowing and there is seeing it.)

When she comes back to herself Lana’s a little nearer, one hand just next to hers on a clean patch on the floor and the angle of her head a silent question.

She nods, and shudders. “I don’t know if he’d have walked back out. Trant trains his people well.”

“Not well enough.” Lana’s lips pull back from her teeth. “You’re certain he’s Republic?”

“It’s not as though they wear insignias. So no, I can’t be absolutely certain. But he called me Cipher, and he- frankly, I can’t think of anyone else Theron would have pissed off badly enough to risk infiltrating our base to kill him, can you?”

“He made enemies on Zakuul, but no more than any of the rest of us did, and I’ve yet to see Arcann send a Force-blind assassin. He relies almost entirely on his skytroopers and his Knights, and they’ve all the subtlety of a boulder to the face.” With a sigh, she shifts her weight to one hip. “Come on, Nine. Let’s get you into kolto and I’ll fetch you a change of clothes.”

She briefly considers, as Lana rises once more and extends a hand to help her to her feet, simply refusing to move. She’s probably too heavy for her to carry unless she-

“You aren’t,” Lana murmurs. “Ask Koth. Now turn your generator on.”

***

When she opens her eyes and spits out a mouthful of kolto the medbay’s empty.

That isn’t a surprise. The folded pile of clothing on the examination table means Lana’s gone and returned and probably gone again to take over the meeting that she’s missing- not one that included Theron, thank fuck, there’d have been no way to talk around that. The one after’s meant for all of them, though, and she’ll need to be on time.

Or better early- she can intercept him that way. If their intel failed this badly once it very well might have failed a second time: they might have another mole and-

Her mind races as she exits the tank, gathers up the clothes and makes her way to the ‘fresher. Even beneath the kolto she can still smell blood on her skin and when she looks down at her chest it’s smeared dark red along one collarbone and the strap line from her undershirt. Out of the corner of her eye she catches a sliver of her reflection in the cabinet mirror, skin chalk-white and hair tangled, face smeared with the remnants of makeup and ribs bruised and neck and chest like an abattoir floor.

Stars, what a fucking mess.

Deliberately she lets the water heat up until the mirror’s completely fogged over and, cleaning-cloth in hand, steps into the shower cubicle. Better not to look too closely now. Better to get clean first. It only looks worse than it is, doesn’t it, with all the blood?

(And what was it you said about vanity, my dear?

She sticks her head under the water until the roar drowns out his voice.)

The blood smears are gone and her skin’s scrubbed pink by the time he’s stopped his prattling and when she calls out to the ship for a time check another ten minutes have passed and- oh, damn it all, her commpad’s chiming from where she left it in the infirmary. Grabbing garments from the pile in both hands, she pulls on underclothes and trousers (definitely hers, from the drawer in the captain’s quarters) and a high-necked sweater (definitely not hers and snug in the bust- probably one of Lana’s own if she had to hazard a guess). It was a good thought on Lana’s part but she doubts she needs it, really; an hour and a half in kolto should have been more than enough to fade the wire line around her neck. She pulls at the fabric, exposing her throat as she turns to the cabinet, checking her reflection more carefully in its mirrored door.

That-

That’s definitely a problem.

There’s a tube of bacta gel in here, or ought to be; her hand closes around it, behind her hairbrush and pushed to the back of the middle shelf, and she slathers a generous coat onto the faint but still clearly-visible gouge before she tugs the neck of the sweater up beneath her chin. A few more hours in kolto would fade it into nothing but she doesn’t have a few more hours to waste, not with a mission to finish planning and an erstwhile assassin to break and bag (metaphorically speaking. Probably. She makes a mental note to see if Renzi and Xessa are still hanging around the Core. They were always good for deliveries on ‘special cargo.’) She’ll have to hope the bacta works more quickly and figure out a way to keep Theron distracted until it’s properly gone. If she wears her jacket too, maybe he won’t notice- but then she needs to clean it now and still have to find a way to sneak into the tank while they’re in transit. Her wrist is a viable excuse, of course, but-

The brush catches on a knot in her hair. She pulls harder, peevish, until it tears free and a dozen strands of hair pull away with it and she almost misses the soft chime of the external door alert beneath a half-stifled hiss of pain. But no, there it is again.

“Lana?” She calls out softly as her fingers brush over the panel behind the sink, searching for the edge and prying it loose with one fingernail. “Lana, is that you?”

It oughtn’t be Lana. Lana ought to be in a meeting now, and no one else but Eckard and SCORPIO should know to find her here. The panel comes open; her hand closes around the little knife in the hidden compartment.

“Hello?” She steps out of the ‘fresher, blade raised at throat height, edge out. Not a mistake she’ll make twice. Not a mistake she’d survive twice.

Her quarters are empty, the door between room and corridor still closed. With back to the wall and knife hand leading she moves toward the corridor, a pause after each step but the only sound the soft brush of her own bare footfalls on the cool durasteel floor. Closer to the opening- closer- closer- the door slides open and she looks right-left-up-down and then left again, a flicker at the furthest edge of her peripheral vision but it’s only the little cleaning droid sweeping a few fragments of leaves near the conference room door.

Ah. Another messy one, then. Tsk, tsk.

The war terminal was locked down properly when she’d left it last. That might not hold for too long against an SIS slicer, though, and the last thing she needs with the timeline on Voss already tight is a compromised agenda or worse, more of Trant’s hounds on their scent.

(They used to joke, back in the days where it was easy to joke about the people that would likely as not be the ones who’d kill you someday when the alternative was actually considering your own mortality, and call them puppies : half-blind, toothless, barely trained little things that couldn’t hunt worth a damn, held back by their master by the scruff of their necks until given a scent to follow-

But this last pup had fangs.)

Nine crosses the common room swiftly, muting the noise of her movement in the whirr of the droid’s spinning brush. Most likely the intruder’s still at the terminal, back to the door and at an angle that should hide her behind the table if she comes in low. Should. If she’s wrong, she’ll have perhaps a second to land a hit or two.

Long enough.

Crouched at the door, she touches the panel and the moment the door’s open to shoulder width she’s in, a diving roll putting her behind the long table as she readies her knife for one good punch to the kidney, maybe, or if he turns- he, yes, a man’s boots and frame in her peripheral vision, not at the terminal but at the near side of the table- fuck, wrong way wrong way wrong WAY and the only option’s to launch herself up and over the top of the table, blade out and-

She pulls her strike short by a finger’s breadth as Theron blinks and tips his head, convor-like, to one side.

“I know I said I needed some combat practice,” he says slowly, leaning backward from the blade ever-so-slightly with a faintly amused smile, “but if I don’t make this call before we leave I’m pretty sure Hylo’s going to confiscate our entire next shipment of caf and whiskey so, um-”

All her coiled-spring tension releases in a single breath and she falls out of stance, sitting down heavy on the tabletop with what feels like a datapad under her right thigh. “You-” turning the little knife in her hand, she tucks it away behind her back- “Theron, what are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be-”

“The secure holo in the War Room’s down for repairs, so I thought I’d-” he starts to reach for the datapad and then his head tilts, ever so slowly, in the opposite direction. “I know you don’t like anyone poking around the ‘shrike, but you gave me the external security codes last week, remember?”

“That’s not what I meant. SCORPIO promised you’d be safe in-” Fuck. Too much.

“I didn’t realize she cared.”

He looks at her then, really properly looks at her, at her too-pale scrubbed-clean face and still-damp hair and borrowed sweater and the smell of bacta heavy in the air; she doesn’t move, doesn’t blink but she sees it in his face at the exact moment he figures it halfway out, eyes narrowed and smile gone and the subtle shift of his jaw as his back teeth clench.

“Zakuul?”

“No.” A noise at the door- just the cleaning droid again, but- “Theron, did you reset the locks behind you when you came in?”

He shakes his head. “I wasn’t planning to stay more than a few minutes, so I didn’t-”

She misses the last part of the sentence, off the table and out the door again and back down the corridor to the security panel. It only takes a few seconds to lock the ship down again and oh, she could strangle Theron except that’d be counterproductive- he’d promised to follow protocol when she gave him the codes but they’ve all become a little sloppy on Odessen, the one place where they thought they were safe. She ought to have known better than that, of course. They were never truly safe anywhere, not with the Republic and Empire still with their teeth in each other’s throats and Arcann always hunting, a step closer each day, and now this-

Her commpad chimes again.

“That isn’t me,” he says from somewhere behind her. “Should I grab it for you, or-” oh, no- “oh, for fuck’s sake, Nine, what-”

(Oh, Cipher. Valkorion clicks his tongue and for a moment his voice, malice wrapped in mirth, sounds just like Hunter’s and she sees herself back in the safehouse on Nar Shaddaa, black and blue and bleeding and down on hands and knees, scrub brush scraping the floor. You really must learn to clean up your messes.)

Theron had probably meant to follow her. But now when she comes back around the corner he’s standing halfway inside the medbay and she follows his sightline: the kolto tank due for cycling, her knife- Lana must have found it in the storeroom during cleanup- next to her belt on the exam table, her armor in a bloody pile on the floor.

“Tell me that’s someone else’s blood.”

She inhales, considering her next words cautiously, but he doesn’t bother to wait for her to lie. Instead he reaches out quicker than she dodges and hooks two fingers into the high collar of her sweater, pulling it down abruptly before she can twist away out of reach.

There’s no point in moving now. She keeps still instead as his fingertips trace the wire’s path from one side to the other and for a moment she can’t tell if the subtle tremor in the movement is his hand shaking or her pulse gone haywire or maybe it’s both, she thinks-

“Tell me,” he says again, quieter, “that’s someone else’s blood, Nine. Tell me whose.”

“Some of it, yes. But I don’t know-“ at that he opens his mouth in disbelief as she makes a face to silence him- “I don’t know his name , I mean. He didn’t exactly introduce himself. He-“

Better to just say it.

“I got in his way. I put myself in his way deliberately and yes, I know I should have been more careful and yes, I fully admit I fucked it up. I don’t know who he is. But I think,” she swallows hard, her voice turned hoarse again, “that maybe you might.”

That’s definitely his hand shaking now. His fingers curl into a fist, tight enough she hears his knuckles crack, and he turns away from her abruptly to walk further into the medbay. Opening one of the upper cabinets, he pulls out a bottle of sanitizing spray and a packet of cleaning-cloths and before she can stop him he bends down, lifting her jacket by its collar onto the examination table and tearing open the packet.

“Don’t worry about that now. I’ll clean it later,” she says, crossing the room toward him even as he starts to scrub and the first cloth turns pink. “It needs to-“

He pulls out a second cloth.

“Theron, stop.” She reaches out, locks her fingers around his wrist to hold him still.

“No.”

He twists his hand abruptly and pulls away, breaking her grip as she staggers off-balance. She reaches out for him with her other hand, then, trying to brace herself and rein him back all at once. “Yes.”

“No,” he says again. “No. I asked you- I told you not to do this, Nine. I told you not to go and fight my battles for me and then literally the next thing you do-“ he’s facing her again now and oh, Void, he’s furious, his mouth a pale thin line - “is almost get yourself killed?” He drops the cleaning-cloth and grabs her by both shoulders. “What if you’d died?”

“But I didn’t. I’m fine.”

He glances down at the armor again, at the smears on the floor where it had lain, at the pink-stained kolto in the tank. “You’re not fine, and you’re avoiding the question. What if you’d died?”

She squirms a little in his grip; he’s holding her tighter than she thinks he means to. “I didn’t-“

“Would you just listen to me?“ Theron’s voice wavers and then breaks, his breath ragged. “If he’d killed you, I don’t know what I- I asked you not to do this.” Another break, the word caught in his throat. “And you did it anyway.”

Nine lifts her chin, baring a strip of skin above the top edge of her collar. “I told you I’d do what I had to, Theron, and I meant it. I sprang a trap meant for you and got this-“ another half-centimeter higher, for emphasis- “for my trouble. If I had died, which I didn’t, he’d have come after you next. Most likely we’d both be dead.”

“That’s not what I-“ he sighs. “And I can handle myself! Do you really think I couldn’t have-“

“Don’t be absurd. I know perfectly well what you’re capable of, and I’m telling you that this time-“

His teeth sink into his lip as he cuts her off, hand pressed over her mouth (how dare he, she’s got a half a mind to bite him)- “Do you? I don’t even know what happened - were you even going to tell me? Or were you just going to scrub this place clean, throw the body in a canyon somewhere and pretend everything’s fine?”

That-

-is a good question.

“I don’t know,” she mutters against his fingers after a moment. “I hadn’t quite gotten that far, to be honest. And there isn’t a body.”

Theron closes his eyes and lowers his hand. “But you’re sure I was the target. And he got away. Force-”

“He didn’t get away. You know me better than that.”

“Then where-”

Her commpad sounds a third time, its message still unread, and she reaches across the table for it. “Unconscious in a sack, last I saw him, but-” what do you mean, in a sack, Theron says as she scans the screen- “oh. Good. That solves that problem.”

“I’m not following.”

“SCORPIO sliced his holo- everything but the retinal scan. Between Eckard, Lana and I we’d probably have gotten him talking eventually, but all I need now is his eyeball and-”

He blanches. “You’re not seriously suggesting we just-” two fingers moving in the air, open and shut, open and shut. “I know he tried to kill you- us- but that’s- I feel like that’s crossing a line.”

Nine sighs. “You have entirely too many scruples. But no, for Void’s sake, I'm not going to cut his eye out. I’m not a sadist.” She shoves the commpad into her pocket. “What I am going to do is find out whether this idiot ignored the call to stand down or if Marcus Trant’s a fucking liar.” Her voice gives out on the last word and she snarls and even that is silent, nearly slamming her fists down on the tabletop before she thinks better of it and pulls back short; the last thing she needs is to hurt that wrist again. Instead she exhales and lets her spine curl, lets her head fall forward until her cheek rests against its surface.

“Or maybe I’ve just got more enemies than we thought? It’s been a long few wars.” He means it as a joke, she thinks, but there’s no humor in his voice. “Here. Sit down before you fall over, okay?” His hands rest on her hips, guiding her back toward the chair that’s suddenly behind her.

“I need to deal with this first.” She pushes the chair away with her foot. “And quickly. If we’re late getting to Voss, the whole damned plan falls apart.”

The seat edge hits the back of her knee as Theron slides it back again. “So what if it does? The last Exarch almost killed you-” ( a broken wrist, she mutters as he lifts her off her feet entirely and sets her in the chair, and a little concussion, hardly almost killed)- “ and you weren’t running on half your blood volume then. You need to rest, Nine. You can’t keep doing this. We’ll get another chance at it.”

“No, we won’t. The Gormak’s visions-”

“What a coincidence,” Theron snaps, “that they suddenly need you right away when the news about Nar Shaddaa hits the ‘net. Maybe Lana and I can handle an Exarch or two on our own, but Arcann? Vaylin? How do they think this war ever ends if you die?”

( An interesting question. Valkorion smiles over steepled fingers. Rhetorically speaking.)

“You say that as if I stand a chance against Arcann.”

He blinks. “Of course you-”

“Do I?” She grabs the edge of the table once more, pulling herself upright. “All of you got me out of carbonite and made me commander in a war I have no hope of winning without far more allies than we currently have, against a maniac who’d have killed me at least twice already except for the delightful coincidence of having his immortal father burrowed into my brain like some sort of metaphysical fucking tapeworm. But if I die- assuming I can die- he will burn everyone and everything I’ve ever touched to the ground from here to the Core and back.” Chin up. Shoulders back. Don’t let them see you bleed. “So I fight. What other choice do I have?”

“So you just- what? Push through it and try not to die? Nine, please. I’m serious.”

She shrugs, twisting her hair into a knot at the nape of her neck, jamming a stray pen through to hold it in place. “It worked for you on Rishi, didn’t it?”

“No. You saved me on Rishi, but you know that.” Theron adjusts her collar, very carefully not touching the marks beneath. Out of sight, out of mind. “And here, again, but you know that too.”

“Only halfway.” Belt on next and then- damn it, where are her boots? She can’t walk across the base with bare feet, and they aren’t- ah, there, next to the kolto tank. Slipping out of his grasp again even as he huffs in frustration, trying and failing to keep her still, she retrieves them and stoops to pull them on. “Stay here until I can send someone for you. He might not have been the only one after you, and-”

“Absolutely not. If you’re going anywhere,” he says sharply, “I’m going with you.”

She closes the top buckle of her boot shut so hard it nearly snaps in two. “No. You’re staying here where it’s safe. That’s an order.”

“Noted.” Theron closes the gap between them in two swift steps, unclips her backup stealth generator and hooks it next to his holster before she can swat his hand away. “Write me up for insubordination when we’re done, then, Commander -” a dare if she ever heard one because of course he knows she never would, damn him to all the hells and back- “because I think I deserve to hear what happens next with my own ears. I deserve to know if I can ever breathe again without worrying where the next shot’s coming from. Don’t I?”

She sighs.

He isn’t wrong.

One finger over the generator’s switch, he waits.

“I will only ask this once, Theron Shan.” She has to look up to meet his eyes; he tilts his head a fraction of a degree. Whatever he expected her to say, it clearly wasn’t that. “If Trant truly is behind this, you are not going to like what I am about to do. Are you going to try to stop me?”

(On Manaan he would have said yes, she thinks. On Rishi and on Yavin IV and probably even a month ago he would have said yes because she saw the way he looked at his father at that last meeting on Coruscant, a lost little boy so desperate for approval he would have done anything- no, almost anything, anything but that- for the smallest scraps of praise-

-and Marcus Trant might have been more of a father to him than Jace ever was.

But that was before, and there are few things that cut deeper than watching your heroes fall.)

“No,” he says.

“Do you promise?”

“Yes.”

She thumbs the switch of her own generator. “Then follow me. Three, two, one-”

#equivalent exchange #swtor fanfiction #cipher nine #theron shan #imperial agent/theron shan #inyri writes #i had to rewrite the last part a dozen times #because they kept trying to fuck their way out of the argument #and we need to use our words this time

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magnhild · 2 years

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ranking all of the star wars media i've seen so far because i think aside from andor (which i'm not watching til it's finished) i've watched all the (canon) pre-original trilogy content

(copied and pasted from my twitter)

10. solo

i won't say i disliked it but it didn't capture my attention either. it was kind of just there and i zoned out for most of it. i liked the droid but then she died :( i think it absolutely should've been allowed to be a comedy

9. rogue one

kind of the same story as solo; i don't really see why it needed to exist and nothing about it much interested me. i didn't actually like it any more than solo but i think if i flipped the ranking people would get mad at me.

8. the phantom menace

the beginning of my sw journey and yet sadly it did not leave much of an impact on me. the editing was. something. and it felt oddly-paced. sometimes the cgi and practical effects were really cool though (and sometimes they weren't).

7. attack of the clones

honestly this movie kind of felt all over the place? like so much happened but not really in a good way. the editing felt better than the first one though and it had less jar-jar which is always a good thing.

6. revenge of the sith

watching this after the clone wars added a lot more weight behind the events but also made anakin's turn so incredibly jarring. i feel like they really nerfed padme too :/ it's mostly the added context of the clone wars that puts this one above the other two in my eyes, even if it also manages to be a detriment. idk.

5. obi-wan kenobi

i think a lot of people didn't care for this one and i can see why but i thought it was fine. probably did not need to exist but young leia is the cutest little shit and her interactions with obi-wan really made the series for me. glad it was short though.

4. tales of the jedi

yeah i know it JUST came out but i'm putting it here anyway. on the ahsoka side of things i don't personally feel like her episodes added much except for maybe the first one bc i love backstory, but ahsoka is ofc my favourite character so i will never complain about more screentime for her. dooku's stuff was pretty interesting though and i like the context that it adds to his whole deal. i kind of feel we should've gotten it sooner tbh.

3. the clone wars

i think the main thing holding it bad a little for me is its length. i feel like it could've been cut down a fair bit, but for as many boring episodes as it had, there were plenty of great ones as well. i'd say that this is the piece of sw media that does the most for the franchise as a whole. it added SO MUCH context and opened up so many paths for more content. characters actually got to be characters, including the clones, and it makes the third movie hit that much harder. perhaps most importantly of all (this is a joke don't @ me), it gave us ahsoka, who i love very much, and who i find very interesting. i will never get sick of her.

2. the bad batch

though it had plenty of action and drama, the main draw of this show for me is the more lighthearted stuff. omega's addition to the sw cast was a very good decision and i loved every moment we got of her. to see a sw series that put more focus on family was really refreshing for me and i can't wait to see more of it next year. this show was also my first introduction to kanen and hera and goodness i had no idea what i was in for.

1. rebels

if you've been paying any attention to my twitter at all this past week this should come as no surprise. like the bad batch, if there's one thing i loved most about rebels, it's the found family aspect. i loved seeing the main cast interact and all of their dynamics had a wonderful quality to them that i appreciated. and it gave me back ahsoka! and i love it for that. the entire show had this strong feeling of hope running through it, which of course made the second half of s4 hit all the harder for me. as much as kanan's death and everything surrounding it hurt me, however, i can only commend the series on the impeccable writing that led to that moment. everything was incredibly well-crafted, creating a moment that impacted me more than any other piece of media ever has before. it made me cry at fiction for the first time ever and i love it for that. but i also hate it for that. but i love it for that. i desperately hope that we'll get to see the main character again in the franchise's future, not just because i miss them dearly, but because i feel like none of their stories ar quite finished. i think there's a lot more we could see from them, with my biggest (and probably most unrealistic) hope being for a series focused on hera as she raises her son and works to move on from kanan's death, bc i feel like the series did Not give her enough time to grieve (not that i can blame it, war is busy).

and there we have it! i don't know if my rankings are very controversial but, as i was saying last night on my twitter, i often enjoy tv shows more than movies, which is why they all ranked above them here. thank u for reading my long post.

#star wars #blaire rambles

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drewbacca2 · 7 months

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Starkiller Saga

44 BBY Chapter three part three

The first job

We leave the Raven and we walk up to Bar Lar and I say. "Hey Bar Lar, one more thing and we'll be ready. A Wookiee bowcaster. Would you happen to know where we could find one?" He replies with "There's a store we own down the street that should have what you're looking for." I thank him and we walk down the street to the store. We looked for a bowcaster and there's three of them. All in good condition. "I'll take the Wookiee bowcaster in the middle please." The droid says "1,000 credits please." I pull my credit chit out and I pay. Luckily it comes with a holster.

We walk over to the landing pad and Bar Lar is already walking towards us with a data pad. He says as he hands me the data pad "it's a bodyguarding job. You have to protect some workers trying to rebuild a residential area. Here's the rest of the information." I walk up the loading ramp and I walk over to Meris. I ask her "would you like to join me and Karrstag in a bodyguarding mission?" She replies "no. I think I'll stay here." She hands the data pad back to me. "Alright, I'll be back tonight." "You'll get something good if you do." She winks. I walk away and we go to the residential area. We meet the foreman and he says "Ah! Gungan Cargo must've sent you! I'm the foreman. I think we'll be well protected with a Wookiee AND a Mandalorian." I say "Of course, you can count on us. As long as you and your workers stay in there you will be fine." "Trust me. We will. It's basically a hallway with a bunch of doors lined up. If you're anything like Kalolus Torka, I know my men will be fine." I ask "Who's Kalolus Torka?" You mean you've never heard of him? And here I thought all Mandalorians knew each other." "Well we don't. Don't all Rodians know each other?" I retort. He scowls and says "Point taken."

It's been a week since we started this job, and it's been very quiet. You'd figure a few gangsters would've shown up by now. Karrstag turns to me and says "can we get something to eat when we get back to the Raven? I'm starving." Before I can answer, twelve gangsters: 6 Humans, three Zabraks, two Gamorreans and a Twilek. One of the Zabraks say "holy shit! It's Kalolus Torka! I thought he left nine days ago?" The human in charge says "No you dumbass. This one has different weapons and armor. It's not him." Karrstag already had his bowcaster out, eager to test it out. He shoots a Zabrak dead in the chest and ducks into cover. I have my sword drawn and slice open the belly of the Gamorrean that approaches me with his axe overhead. His guts spill all over the floor. I point at the leader and say "kill everyone but him!" "Right." says Karrstag. I run at the other Gamorrean and decapitate him then I slice open the Twilek's stomach and I start getting shot at. But Karrstag turns to shoot the humans doing it and kills one as they run for cover. I swipe with my sword to get the blood off like my father taught me to do, I put it in its sheath and I draw Vengeance and Justice and I start shooting back. The Zebraks are on our right, and the humans to our left. I shoot the first human to poke her head up and I get a headshot on her. As they keep losing fighters I can tell they're getting antsy. And Karstaag just killed the Zabraks with an explosion. Turns out his bowcaster had a hidden feature. I see the humans trying to run. I shoot them one, two, three and the fourth one gets my grappling hook around his ankles. He tried to shoot me but it bounced off my Beskar helmet. I look all around, there's nobody around here. I tell Karrstag "watch this vod." I tap into the force, and I subtly make it look like he throws his blaster. I tap out of the force. I point my blaster at him and say "Take me to your hideout. You should stay here vod. Just in case any more thugs showing up. If any of our crew contact you, tell them I went comm silent." He nods.

We get into a two person speeder. I have Justice drawn and in my lap. I say "Try anything and you're dead. If the door person asks why I'm here. Say I helped you kill the Wookiee that killed the rest of your fighters and I want to join. If you say anything else you're dead. Do you understand?" "Yes!" He said quickly. We get to the hideout we land next to the door. We get out and I have Justice pressed against his back. We walk up to the door, and a small window in the door opens up, the woman says "Boran? Where's the rest of your guys? And who's the Mando?" Boran says "He helped me kill the Wookiee that killed the rest of our men. He wants to join us." "Come on in then Mando, let me get the door for you guys!" I walk in behind Boran, then I shoot the door girl, then Boran.

#grozchal #starkillersaga #the mandalorian #star wars

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255940g · 1 year

Text

Any title ideas guys? Ch. 16 - Comforting Bee

Chapter Summary: Bee gets a little insecure in this new relationship. This draws on the moment when the Arcee triplets inteterrogate and scare politely ask Bee about his courtship methods. Bee was already feeling insecure with his first romantic relationship, especially with better bots available to her.

I was a little bored and esasperated with the initial set up. so you do have another little summary.

TLDR Bee is feeling a little insecure as there are now so many bots available with legitimate hero worship for Sam, the new Pilot of a pirateship turned slaveship, turned whatever she was goign to do with all the bots now out of confinement, enslaved, or imprisioned for the Decepticon cause. Specifically there were a number of traditionally better suitors for Sam - as there were a number of those with wings and were upper atmosphere fliers. Bee is a ‘factory made’ grounder. So he si feeling a little insecure especially as Sam dosen’t know his official designation and they are sharing a berth in a romantic sense now, though there is yet to be any fragging - thyey were surrounded by others back at the base, then it wasn’t safe while they were alone, and there are two precious sparklings in their care, they also haven’t talked about it merely falling back into old behaiviour - Its still in a romantic sense. She was ususally draped over him cuddling. Bee was willing to try it out along with the necessity of slender berths and fell in love - there was something nice about walking up warm with Sam right there. However, this time Sam was flat out with her wings up open to the air in habit borne from extra protection the sparklings were snuggled up between the two of them. Bee moved to sit on the edge of the captains berth to just think and to process. Logically he knew they would be fine and that his original assigned designation of a time long in the past that wouldn’t likely happen again wouldn’t matter butit still ate at his current thoughts. He sort of slumped over as he was thinking.

Sam awoke not long later - because of her wings telling her there was movement in the room- and slowly and silently got up herself. Seeing Bee she walked over to him putting a servo on his shoulder startling Bee. Though he relaxed almost immediately afterwords and returnnig her smile. When Sam moved in front of him and used his shoulders as balances to straddle him, he held her hips to help and met her optics.

Acutely aware of the sparklings a few feet away they had their conversation through personal comms.

Sam:: What’s up Honeybee? You seemed melancholy.

Bee:: It dosen’t really matter…

Scooting closer so their chests were almost touching and held his face in her servos

Sam:: You seemed bothered by it though.

Bee:: Its also stupid::

Sam now caressing his faceplates and broadening her smile when he kissed her palm and put one arm around her and the other on a thigh. :: Not when its obviously bothering you so much::

::...:: He reset his vocolal coder and shuttered his optics thinking and Sam continued to trail her digits over his cheek plates and neck cables her EM field opening enough to be felt easily - as was Sam’s habit for the sparklings to easily find and reassure themselves and to train them to find more subtle ones - but not overwhelmingly. It was soft and warm full of affection and love though still tinged with exhaustion from the marathon runs in the medical room to get through the previous prisoners.

Sam:: Come on Bee, you can share it.

Bee:: I’m still baffled as to how you choose me. You don’t know my designation.::

Sam:: Yes, I do. B-172 is the one assigned to you when you came to the assignment droid, later you choose Bumblebee and that's what most everyone calls you, however, I get away with calling you Honeybee and the sparklings are testing out Sire through comms with me in reference to you. You have other names but they were given by people irrelevant, Decepticons, or both.

Bee:: Oh right, it would be on my medical files.::

Sam:: Bee I’ve always known your official designation. You just don’t like it. So I use what you prefer.:: Getting closer and beginning to focus her rhythms. One digit tracing his chin and delicately maybe even ‘accidentally’ touching his bottom derma. Humming she continued:: Bee, may I kiss you?::

:: Yes::

Despite what Bee thought she didn’t go right for a kiss. She instead ran a digit along the bottom of his derma again and tilted his helm back just slightly before taking her optics off of his derma to meet his optics as one final double-check he still wanted the kiss before finally moving her thumb away from his derma and closing her optics and finally getting the kiss.

Bee tightened his hold on her back and moved his servo from her thigh to rest along the edge of a wing caressing it gently. Sam went to gently rub and tease neck cables and slowly move one servo to the nape of his neck. Their fans automatically turned on to a low setting not long after they started kissing. However, a faint sound from somewhere parted the two, Sam glancing towards the sparklings; Bee snapping his helm towards the door.

There were no disturbances that either could find. Immediately finding the other’s optics. One side of Sams's mouth and optic ridge raised in question, while Bee reached forwards and connected their derma together.

The kiss and connecting ones were a slow dance. One of comfort and reassurance that the other was there and safe. Explorative and reciprocating what the other gave freely. When they did separate it was for mere seconds before connecting again. Sam’s servos moved slowly until one was behind Bee’s helm and the other went over his other shoulder to reach down his back and tracing his door wings causing the occasional pleasured shutter.

Bee’s servo climbed up her thigh to Sam’s aft plates to pull her closer. The other continued stroking and tracing her wings causing Sam to press ever closer until there was no space between their chests.

They continued this slow, deep and sensual kissing until they were interrupted by a familiar sound of *sparkling* waking up and wanting attention…also probably some energon. Then came Ellie being awoken by *sparkling* moving and she and her own needs to be met.

Sam and Bee separated with their vents now audible. Sam gave Bee a small smile before caressing his face with her digits and attempting to climb out of his lap. Bee instead tightened his grip he had of her aft and smoothly leaned backwards so she laid on top of him; sending his own playful teasing nudge between their Em fields and a bright smile. Though Sam gave him the facade of light irritation. → alright Bee braces himself against a servo and lays down so Sam is laying on top of him still straddling him. Ellie and *sparking* aren’t completely crying yet but they are starting to make it known that they do want this need filled now thank you. Their position is obviously more sexual than they've gone and Bee can’t help but tease Sam about that and Sam pretends to be huffy or more upset than anything. Though She does shift to be on the opposite side of Bee while Bee grabs the sparklings towards the two of them -> Bee is also cuddly and dosen’t want to separate from Sam more than necessary while they are both 'off the clock' as much as they could be and definitely not after the kisses they were both enjoying.

While Sam starts the usual waking up routine for the sparklings of feeding the both of them. Bee remembers an important part of the conversation he overlooked in the face of a rare make-out session. “Wait, Ellie and *sparkling* call me sire?” He asks breathlessly.

“They do, sometimes. That's the role in their life you are ultimately fulfilling. Why wouldn't they call you what you are doing?” Sam answered a little bemused. *sparkling* continued suckling while Ellie slowed her suckling her tank comfortably full.

#maccadam #bayverse bumblebee #sam witwicky #sparkling #mytfpfics

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nightwing1019 · 1 year

Text

A Fearful Pursuit Final part

Meanwhile Verna'an and IG-33 made it to the loading dock, there were dozens of the horde standing around the ship. Verna'an and IG-33 began firing, clearing a path to the ship. They boarded the ship and Verna'an quickly got to the bridge of the ship, took flight and used the ships guns on the horde. After they cleared the loading dock, Verna'an landed the ship "We have to go back for the others" said Verna'an. "I calculate that it's a 7% chance that they made it" said IG-33, "and a 9% chance of success if we go back for them". "Never tell me the odds" said Verna'an heading for the ships door. IG-33 then blocks his path "I cannot allow you to compromise the mission" said the droid "if you leave this then I will be forced to take off alone". Verna'an then shoots IG-33 in the head, disabling him. Verna'an then cuffs the still unconscious professor to one of the seats, readies his blaster then exits the ship.

Not far away Hilira and Cordac continued running through the hallway Hilira stopped for a moment and noticed the halls were empty and silent "I think we lost them" said Hilira "I can't believe we lost Joto". "Joto knew what he was getting into" replied Cordac "in our line of work our lives can be compromised". When Hilira heard that she became infuriated "How could you say that you Nerfherder!" said Hilira angrily "He was our friend!" She then throws Cordac against one of the side doors, Cordac then draws his blasters on her "Say what you will about me you hot headed harlot" said Cordac "I'm not going to die for you or Verna'an, I can just shoot you now and say you died along the way" as he was talking, the side door behind him opened, Hilira notices silently, maintaining eye contact with Cordac "it'll help my chances and get me a bigger share of the bounty" one of the horde then quickly emerges from the side door, leaps onto Cordac and begins biting his neck. Cordac begins screaming in pain wildly shooting his blasters. Hilira quickly grabs her rifle and very skillfully shoots Cordac and his attacker both through the head in one shot. She then runs down the hallway turns left and runs into Verna'an, "Verna'an!?" She said hugging him "I'm so happy you're here, Joto and Cordac are dead". Verna'an paused in disbelief then said "We have to get out of here now" he took her by the hand and led her back towards the loading dock.

Verna'an and Hilira then hurried back to the loading dock, it had become overrun with the horde again. The two began firing at the horde, but more kept charging in. All of a sudden, one jumped out and tackled Verna'an to the ground, he quickly threw it aside and shouted "Keep going I'm fine" Hilira made her way onto the ship, she continued firing at the horde circling Verna'an. Out of nowhere she noticed a red flash of light. Verna'an had ignited his lightsaber and began cutting his way through the horde to the ship. As soon as Verna'an boarded, Hilira took off very quickly. Verna'an sat down catching his breath "Hilira are you hurt" asked Verna'an, "I'm fine" she replied "what about you". "I'm alright, looks like the professor is still unconscious, see if you can wake him up" Hilira then slaps Fijil across the face, waking him up "What happened!?" He said, "we got you off the ship" said Verna'an "at the expense of our men". Fijil showing no sympathy for the lost comrades "in the pursuit of knowledge it is necessary to lose some lives." Verna'an then punched him in the face, knocking him out again "I hate Imperials" he said, "Let's get back to Tarkin". Hilira then sets course for Tarkins base.

#star wars #the mandalorian #the book of boba fett #the clone wars #horror

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zoeykallus · 1 year

Note

Hi! I see you take requests for one shots! Could you do an echo x reader (fluff only) where the reader helps echo through a panic attack on the battlefield and echo ends up telling her about his feelings? Thanks!

Aloha! Well yes, I did, still do, and they keep coming in, so I'm a little slow to catch on, very sorry about that. But now you finally get your ask/request done 😊 Also, I'm assuming you mean TBB Echo, so that's what I'm going with. If you were thinking of pre Citadel Echo, let me know and I'll write something new.

Echo x Reader One-Shot - Always

Warnings: Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Tension/Fluff/Mention And Description Of A Panic Attack

_______________

It's nothing new, enemy fire, a tense situation, jumping from cover to cover. But something is different for Echo today. He climbs a ridge to survey the battlefield when a blaster shot hits his right prosthetic leg, right in the knee joint. He pulls himself up just in time. "Kriffin hell!" growls Echo, cursing. You hear his curse over the comm in his helmet and ask anxiously from your cover, "Echo? Are you okay?" He doesn't answer right away. Echo tries to stand up, but his prosthetic leg refuses to serve him. The leg remains stiff and cannot be bent, the joint fused together from the blaster shot. Echo tries to get up again and again, although the rational part of his mind knows that the prosthesis is simply broken. Cold sweat breaks out, his heart beats up to his throat, his breathing gets faster and faster, his muscles tense up, his body feels heavy as lead and immobile all at once. "Echo? Answer me!" Tech checks his new gadget, a small monitor built into his bracer connected to all the batchers, there he can see the vital signs of all the team members. "Sharply elevated pulse, frantic breathing, muscle tension, I think Echo is having a panic attack," he finally informs you. You bite your tongue to suppress the curse that automatically wants to come out of your mouth. "Cover me for a moment," you murmur to Tech and Wrecker, who were with you and Echo. "We've got your back, ad'ika!", Wrecker assures you and resolutely blasts two more droids. Ducked, you run to the rocky ridge and begin to climb, you must now fully rely on Tech and Wrecker to really have your back, draw their fire and make sure no one shoots you in the back. You are not disappointed, yet your heart races, and you feel adrenaline flood your system as you reach the top. At the top you see Echo lying there on his back, he moves a little, but very stiffly and by now you can hear his frantic breathing over the comm. "Echo, I'm here, everything's fine," you say as your gaze flies hastily over his body, searching for wounds.

You discover the fused joint on his prosthetic leg and guess what happened. Echo was hit, which is scary enough in itself, but when he could no longer move freely as a result, panic set in, and now he was lying here. As he tries to take off his helmet with a shaking hand, you stop him. "No, don't take off your helmet, we are still on the battlefield". You try to tell him as gently as you can and take his hand off his helmet, but you have to push through. A stray or even aimed blaster shot could be much more dangerous or even deadly without a helmet. "I can't move," Echo finally croaks tensely. "Yes you can, Echo, it's just the prosthetic that got hit, until it's replaced or repaired you'll need a support, but you have no injury," you say patiently, holding his hand. He's shaking, and you can still hear his uneasy breathing over the comm. "Echo, listen to my voice, okay? Focus on my words and look at me." He takes two deeper, slower breaths, trying to catch himself, and you see his head turn a little to look at you. Even though you can't see his face right now, his visor is pointing right at you. You would like to show him your face, but the Safety 1x1 that Hunter taught you took precedence. One of the first rules regarding armor and general protective clothing, never take off your helmet in combat, only if there is no other way at all. But he knows your helmet, he knows your voice, Echo decorated your helmet with you, so he has a familiar image in front of him. "You'll be fine, I'm sure Tech can fix it or replace it. You just got scared, it happens to all of us. But now you have to pull yourself together, the battle isn't over yet. Besides, you promised me that we would cook your famous stew together tonight". You deliberately refrained from titling it panic attack or panic in general. The word itself could have a violent effect opposite to the desired result. Some words can have a very strange power over a person.

Echo continues to breathe deeply, in and out. It takes a long moment, but finally he replies, "I haven't forgotten, I intend to keep my promise, Mesh'la." Relief floods through you. "Very good, then let's shoot the clankers down there, so we can get home".

Back on Ord Mantell: Your helmet tucked under your arm, you enter Tech's small workshop, where he is busy fitting Echo's new prosthetic leg. "Hey guys," you say cheerfully. "Hello ad'ika," Tech says kindly, though without looking up from his work on the prosthetic. Echo looks up at you from his seated position. "Hey lifesaver," he says with a wry smile. "Now, don't exaggerate," you say with a soft laugh. Tech says matter-of-factly, "I don't think Echo is exaggerating, he was in an awkward position, a panic attack in the middle of combat is a death sentence for most soldiers." Echo and you look at Tech with furrowed brows, actually you should be used to his straightforward manner by now. "How's it looking?" you ask to change the subject, "Can you handle it with the new prosthetics?" "Of course," Tech replies almost indignantly. When he finishes and Echo gets up to test the prosthesis, everything seems to work right off the bat. "Thanks Tech, I owe you one," Echo says. "Don't mention it," Tech says, "I still have to help Crosshair with his rifle, I guess it got damaged during Hunter and Crosshair's little trip together." You raise your eyebrows, "They're both okay though?" "Yeah, no injuries, Crosshair's just a little whiny about his beloved rifle" Tech noted. Tech retreats to find Crosshair, along with his toolbox, and for the moment you are alone with Echo in the small workshop. He seems strangely nervous all of a sudden. He clears his throat and finally says, "There's something I'd like to tell you." Astonished, you look at him, "Oh yeah?" "Yes. Today has made me realize that I shouldn't wait any longer to do this. The way we live, any day can be the last and I don't want to end up regretting not addressing certain things" "Oh."l Echo moves closer to you until he is standing relatively close to you.

"None of the others could have gotten me out of that stupor today as easily as you did. I know they all would have tried, but.... Well, so what I'm saying is..." Echo pauses for quite a while, licks his lips nervously, and finally says, "I've developed feelings for you. Something I never really expected. I was born a soldier, or created, depending on how you want to look at it, I've lived as a soldier, and it never occurred to me to be anything else or expect more out of life." Your heart beats faster, and you know you are staring wide-eyed at him right now, but you can't help it. Echo continues, "But then you stumbled into our lives, you stayed, and I got to know you and by now I feel there is more to life than just being a soldier. I'd like to explore with you what exactly it all is. Does that make any sense?" For a moment, you just stare at him. He laughs nervously, avoids your gaze, and scratches the back of his neck. "Oh god, I'm really bad at this, in my head it all sounded completely different". You smile at him silently, giving him time to collect himself. Finally, he says laughing softly, "Okay, simply put, I have a crush on you". He looks from one point to another, avoiding your gaze, until he suddenly feels your lips on his cheek. Echo quietly says, placing his hand on your hip, "However, I have no idea where we go from here. Are we going out together? Should I buy flowers? Shall we go out to eat? Should I learn to dance? Do I kiss you now?" Smiling, you lean your forehead against his as he leans toward you, and you say, "How about we go to my apartment, you cook the stew with me as promised, and then we'll see?" He breathes a sigh of relief as he replies, "Sounds wonderful." "Then I'll see you at my place in an hour?" "All right," Echo says with a grin. As you're about to walk out, you turn around again and say, "Oh and Echo, take your toothbrush with you, just in case" Echo blinks, his cheeks flush a little, finally he nods with a shy but mischievous smile, "Got it. Oh, and thanks for coming to my rescue"

You smile and say, “Always”

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaws

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@taskfork-archive

@cpnt616

@starwarsnerd111

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whatanoof · 3 years

Text

A Push in the Right Direction

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~7.6k

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, sex pollen so by default it's dubcon, pining

Summary: Healing injured patients? Psh, easy stuff. Force healing? A little more tricky. Confessing your crush to your very close friend? Damn near impossible until a flower bush shoves you in the right direction.

A/N: Happy birthday my friend @marvelassassin221b!! I hope you are staying safe, and that your birthday will bring happiness and wisdom to your life. It's been a blessing talking to you and laughing at memes together <3 Thank you for giving me the push to get this fic done and posted, I couldn't have done it without you. Enjoy some of our favorite redhead Jedi ;)

You’ve always been terrible with directions. Like, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten lost in more dangerous settings, but even your Jedi Master used to shake their head when you had survival exercises in your Padawan years. Greez too, makes comments about how atrocious you are at navigation. You hadn’t been allowed back to the holomap since a disastrous set of directions landed the Mantis on the more unfriendly side of the Outer Rim.

But even with all of your shortcomings at mapping, you have a solid crisis mode. You need to have one as a medic. It’s not a good idea to freeze when a patient is bleeding out on the ground in front of you, there is only one way that is going to end, and it’s not going to be a happy ending. Under pressure, all of the unsureness that surfaces during your attempts at navigation vanishes, and your body is moving before your mind even consciously thinks to. It’s your zen mode, almost your place of meditation, where you give into the inner instinct and allow the Force to guide you through the process. Too bad you can’t reach that state in any situation other than emergencies, maybe you would be able to navigate your moves in confessing a crush.

You had met Cal Kestis on Bracca. He’d cut his hand open on a jagged edge of wall paneling, and Prauf brought him to you, one of the few healers among the scrappers. You couldn’t tell what exactly it was that gave him away to you, but the instant his eyes met yours, you knew where he had come from.

Of course, you waited until Prauf had gone back to work to reveal yourself. Healing through the Force decreases the chance of infection, is painless, and is essentially instantaneous. While your normal supplies would have done the trick, the drama queen in you realized this would be the perfect way to show Cal he wasn’t alone. Force healing is tricky, but you’d had a surprising knack for it ever since your youngling years. The Order had trained you up in the way of Force healing and given you the tools to take advantage of your aptitudes. Cal’s face had been priceless when you simply waved your hand over his, and the wound closed within seconds.

There was a certain comfort in knowing you weren’t alone. Admittedly, in the long years after the Purge, you’d toyed with the idea that you had been the only Jedi to escape. Those had been dark days, where you could barely scrape together the energy to forage for food and water, laughing that the Jedi Order would die with a single Padawan who had lost her lightsaber along with everything she had known.

But then Cal stumbled into your little cordoned off area. You’d become close friends from that moment to the day Prauf died and the Ninth Sister shoved you both off of the cliff and onto the freight train below. The Mantis crew was surprised, to say the least. They had gotten reports of a single Jedi wreaking havoc on Bracca. But they welcomed you aboard and you had become the team medic, patching up Cal when he got back from missions and finding time in between to try and recover the Force abilities you had lost to time.

---

“Hey.” You look up from your work. Medical supplies lie strewn across the floor of your part of the room, bandages unwound and your meager supply of medication stacked methodically in the corner.

Cal looks down at you from the doorway, a streak of something across his cheekbone. You want to wipe it off, but you just smile back, “Welcome back. Find anything cool?”

His happy grin only widens, “You’ll have to come and find out.”

“What?”

He beckons you towards the main hull, “Come on!”

Cere and Greez are already there and seated around the meal table, and BD is perched on the table, chirruping animatedly as if talking to Cere. You take your place with them, noting the empty chair to your right. Merrin is back on Dathomir, searching for ancient texts about Nightsister magic and rituals. She’s been gone for several days, but you still find yourself seeking out her snarky comments and cool confidence.

“Okay.” Cal stands at the head of the table, rubbing his hands together in a way that makes him seem as if he is playing the adult. “I’m willing to bet you're all wondering why I’ve called you here today…”

“Spit it out Cal, you woke me up from a nap for this.” Greez eyes the redhead grumpily, and you fight to hide a grin. Cere also looks mildly amused, if slightly impatient.

Cal rolls his eyes, but continues, “Cordova left a message, saying something very valuable to our quest is locked in a vault in the Zeffo caves. I found the vault today and it matches Cordova’s description, but we need two Force users to access it.” He nudges BD, and the little droid projects an image of the vault door. It’s massive, with gold decorations swirling across it, and two obvious indents in the ground on either side for said Force users.

Everyone’s gazes flit to Merrin’s empty chair. It’s without question she would have been the best fit for this mission. Her combat style complements Cal’s perfectly, and Cere is still hesitant to use the Force.

Realization strikes you, and you glance up to see everyone’s eyes are now trained on you. You begin to shake your head. “That’s a bad idea--”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll lead us directly to the vault. I have my saber, and you have your Force healing. Worst case scenario, you have to patch me up in the field.” That is definitely not the worst case scenario, but there are no other options. This mission is time-sensitive, and you can’t wait for Merrin to get back from Dathomir.

You fix him with a stern glare. “I will come. But--” You hold up a hand when Cal opens his mouth. “You have to stick with me. No disappearing and popping out to scare me, because I will get lost We go in, and we get out.“

“I wouldn--” Cal protests.

“You would.” You snap.

“Yeah, he would.” Cere agrees.

“Sounds like something you would do.” Greez nods.

BD beeps cheerily from its place in the center of the table, clearly in agreement with you.

Cal shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you cross your arms while staring him down. Yes he would.

“I need BD back here on the ship. I’m running diagnostics on the navigation programming, and I can’t do it alone.” Cere speaks up.

Cal hesitates. You understand; he never goes on missions without BD. The two are a package deal, but everything needs to be running at peak efficiency before you go to the Fort Inquisitorius. And there’s no way you’re willing to deal with a navigation error en route.

You speak up, “Yeah, it will be fine.”

Cal looks at you, “We need BD to unlock a shortcut. What happened to in and out?”

You wave him off, “We’ll take the scenic route. Cere needs BD back here, and we can manage without. We’ll have our comm units, it will be fine.”

---

Do you know that saying, “Famous last words?”

Yeah. You hadn’t realized just how famous those last words could be. It started when Cal realized he’d left his comm unit on the ship in the charging port. But it was fine, because you had yours. Until you dropped it into a puddle after tripping over a tree root.

The scenic route involved passing through the outskirts of a forest, and the terrain was a little trickier than you had been prepared to handle, obviously. So, commless and armed with a single lightsaber and two shared brain cells, you travel towards the entrance to the Zeffo caves.

A flower bush catches your eye. Its leaves are a shocking shade of red, with gorgeous blue flowers that seem to call you over to them. Cal keeps walking even as you stop and reach for the bush. You pluck the flower in the fullest bloom and turn it over in your hand, admiring the veins of deeper azure spider webbing across the petals.

Cal says your name behind you, “We have to keep moving if we’re going to get back before dark.”

Turning to face your companion, you tuck the blossom behind his ear and step back to admire how the blue contrasts against his hair. The word slips out almost without you noticing. “Cute.”

It’s almost comical how quickly his face blooms red. “Guh--”

“It’s a good look.” You reassure him quickly. “Adorable. Pretty. Cute.”

“--Thanks!” He ducks past you to the bush. “I’m just going to grab a seedling for Greez. He’ll like this one.” Cal grabs one of the large pods and breaks it open, removing a seed and sticking it into the pouch on his harness. “Okay, ready.”

But you’re distracted by the red pollen that explodes in a cloud around his head, dusting him with a fine mist that leaves scarlet traces on his face and shoulders. “What’s that?” You step forward and run a finger across Cal’s poncho, collecting the dust and rubbing it between your fingertips. You hesitate, then raise your hand to your face to smell the substance. The sickly sweet scent and underlying current of spicy musk sticks in your lungs. The back of your throat tickles, and you sneeze.

An echoing sneeze draws your attention. Cal leans against the flowering bush, one arm clamped over his nose as he sneezes over and over again. He glances up at you, coughing with watery eyes, “Wha--”

A spike of dread pierces through you. ‘Stars, was it poison?’ He won’t stop coughing, a dry rattle as his body tries in vain to purge the intruding red dust. You fall to your knees beside him. Panic fills your mind, blotting out logic and reason and you place your hands on his body, intent on Force healing him even though you don’t know what is wrong with him. Then, just as suddenly as the coughing started, it stops and silence rings through the trees.

“Cal!”

You're shoving your hand underneath his poncho in an instant to feel for his heartbeat. You hold your breath. You can’t feel a pulse. You scramble to rip his poncho off completely, dragging it over his limp shoulders and head. You shove your fingers against his throat again. There!

His heartbeat flutters delicately, beating a rapid tattoo against your fingertips. You allow yourself to breath. He’s alive. But his pulse is fast, too fast. You rip open his tunic, though you’re not entirely certain what it is you’re searching for.

Just as your fingers brush over his skin, Cal bolts upright with a gasp. “Wh-- where...?”

You swear you almost pass out from the relief that slaps you across the face. “Stars, I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry about the flower bu-- mmm!”

Cal smashes his lips onto yours, pushing you onto your back with the sheer force of the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, searching and probing and damnit you can’t breathe when he’s this close to you, this desperate. His hips jerk against yours with an unpracticed, aborted motion, dragging a very prominent erection against your body that makes you jerk back in surprise.

You push him away from him for a second, propping yourself up on your elbows as you search his face for some indication of… you don’t know what. But this isn’t like him. “Cal, what--?”

“Need you.” He groans, his hands roaming over your body without fear or shame and inspiring a wave of pleasure as he squeezes your breasts. “Maker, you feel so good. Smell so good.” You bite back a moan. This really isn’t the time, not in the middle of an Imperial occupied forest. But to be completely honest, he feels really good too.

You’d imagined this before. Well, not these exact circumstances, but the idea of being under Cal. You’d imagined the feeling of his hands scraping over your skin and squeezing your body wherever he would like. You’d imagined his lips on yours, and other places for sure. But you’d really only ever been able to envision Cal as a gentle lover, all quiet moans and hesitant movements and unsure expressions. But this rougher side? You moan raggedly against Cal’s mouth as he shoves a thigh between your legs, rubbing up against your clothed sex. This is amazing.

Streaks of heat flash through your body, converging between your legs. Everything is amplified, the sounds around you, the grass beneath your knees, the blueness of the sky overhead. But it all seems to pale when your attention lands on Cal, who’s more flushed than earlier. You feel the heat beneath your skin too, but he’s got to have it worse right now, because you’re not the one sweating like you’re stranded on a desert planet. Maker, the pollen was some kind of--

His name escapes your lips in a tiny whisper that morphs into a moan halfway through. You allow your head to fall back, and it thunks against the spongy moss across the ground, knocking you back to the present. Cal’s lost in you, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as he ruts weakly against your thigh.

You shake off the haze clouding your mind, crisis mode kicking into full gear. You have no comms, one horny Jedi, and a completely hopeless sense of direction. “Cal. We have to move.”

He whines high in the back of his throat. “No.” It’s almost pleading, but there is an undercurrent of steel that makes you pause.

“Cal. We’re out in the open. Troopers co-- could--” Stars, you can feel the lust pumping under your skin, so close to the surface that it could burst out at any second. But fear hovers on the edge of your mind, pressing in and suppressing the need to jump Cal and reminding you of the certain torture and death that would occur if you were caught.

Cal doesn’t seem to have any of the same restraints as you. His fingers are carding through your hair, “Just wanna feel you. Maybe more.” His teeth latch into your neck, and the dull pain pierces through the haze more firmly.

He got dosed more heavily with the pollen. You resist the urge to curse as you gently detangle from Cal and sit up, biting back a sigh of relief as his teeth leave your skin. “We have to find shelter.” You begin to look around, but all you can see is the forest. You need something better, a place where you can figure out what exactly is wrong with Cal. You try to stand.

“Noooo…” This isn’t going to work. You actually do curse this time. How are you supposed to find effective shelter while dragging a full grown man around hostile territory without compromising stealth, all while your libido is cottoning to the edge of your mind, clouding your judgment?

“Come here…” Cal’s arm wraps around your neck, dragging you back down to the ground even as you try to stand. Okay that’s enough.

“You’ll forgive me later, Cal.” You press your thumb to his forehead and concentrate. His skin is dry and burning to your touch, and your brow scrunches. That’s going to be an issue. You reach to tap into the Force, but you pause. Your Force connection is… foggy. That’s the only way you can describe it in words, but it’s muted and dimmer than usual.

Your Jedi Master taught you a metaphor for using the Force: a barrier exists between you and access to the Force. It’s a wall, and your mind must become like a sharpened sword to pierce through and reach the Force. You can feel the barrier, just as always, but it’s like a second layer exists around it. If the normal barrier is made of thin glass, the new layer is crafted from paper; it’s strange, and thicker than usual, but still easily pierced with extra… force if you can say that without making yourself laugh at the pun. You summon the strength and press your mental sword forward through the barrier.

Rest. Cal’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls asleep with a gentle exhale. He relaxes against you, and you relax in turn when you see the pained lines smooth out of his forehead. Jedi healing includes your own personal anesthesia on demand. It will keep him under for a little bit, though you can’t tell what kind of effect the pollen will have on the Force sleep.

Through some feat of the stars themselves, you struggle to your feet. Cal’s arm is looped around your neck, and you want nothing more than to just sink down to the ground again and give into the weakness and lust pulling at your legs, coaxing you to collapse and take your pleasure. And stars, Cal’s heavier than you expected him to be.

But you shake yourself awake. Can’t get distracted. You glance at Cal’s drooping head. He’s been strong for you this entire time. The least you can do is be strong now and find some shelter. But where?

Voices filter through the trees, and your head jerks up towards the sources.

“Yeah, she told me to take the bucket off, or she would charge the full payment and…” Stormtroopers. Kriffing hell.

“Come on.” You hiss underneath your breath. You gather your legs underneath your body and push. Your muscles scream in pain, but they ultimately obey and you stumble to your feet and begin to move away from the approaching voices. Cal is dead weight over your shoulders, pulling and urging you to rest. It would be so easy to give in, to sink back to the ground and let Cal do what he wants.

The trees blur together as you move through the forest. The stormtroopers’ voices are getting louder and you grit your teeth. You don’t know their patrol route. How are you going to avoid them? All you can do is place one foot in front of the other. Then the mossy ground turns to stone underneath your feet, and you slow. Caves. Perfect.

You hurry inside, fatigued legs forgotten in your relief. There’s a bend directly beyond the mouth of the cave, and you gently lay Cal against the wall. You’re completely hidden from anyone looking from the entrance. You sit opposite him, your head falling forward to sag against your chest. Now what?

Your comm unit is busted, and Cal’s is sitting back on the Mantis, so you can’t contact the crew. You hold a hand to Cal’s forehead. His temperature is getting worse. You don’t know what infected him, so your Force healing is out of the question. The only bright spot is you’re pretty sure the stormtroopers won’t find you. They’re not exactly recruited for their brains, and you’ll be able to sense their muted Force signatures if they get close.

Speaking of…

You trail off, contemplating Cal’s unconscious face. His head sags against the rock wall and there’s a line of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. His brow is finally relaxed, his breathing deep and even and it strikes you that this is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

You reach out through the Force. It has become a habit for you, Merrin, and Cal to find peace in each others’ Force signature. Whether nightmares or difficult missions, the others would be there as a silent comfort.

Merrin’s is a mixture of whites and creams swirling against a dark maroon background. When she uses her Force magic, there is an unmistakable green tinge through it. Hers is powerful, with a sense of underlying safety in her strength. True to form, Merrin has been a protector figure in the Mantis.

But Cal’s is more diverse, a blend of warm colors against a grey background with blue tinging the edge. But while the colors are chaotic, Cal keeps a firm hold on his Force presence at all times, never allowing it to surge violently from emotion. He does not suppress it completely anymore, but you know he has the ability to make it nearly disappear from the senses of another Force user. You should know, because you can do the same. Merrin grew up without fear of having to hide her Force sensitivity, but you and Cal survived the Purge. You both have firm grasps of your thoughts and emotions projected through the Force. So in Cal, you found a kindred spirit that understands you better than almost any other person in the galaxy could. You’ve become more familiar with his presence than even your Master’s before the Purge.

But now, your brow furrows as you search for his Force presence over and over, pushing into every crevice of the surrounding environment without violating his privacy. You’re not mistaken. It’s gone, almost as if he has been turned into a droid before your eyes. Every living thing has a Force presence, no matter how minute. But Cal’s comforting whirl of light is gone, vanished as though he is no longer connected to the--

Cal’s eyes fly open and he sits forward with a quiet gasp. You jump. It’s worn off then. You secure his body with the Force, holding him loosely so as not to cause any lasting damage. You would have to tackle the Force connection problems later.

“I need you to focus.” He pushes against the bonds with a whimper, and you bite your lip as you struggle to hold him still.

“Cal!” Your Force bind tightens, and he stills with a grunt. “Talk to me. Fight through it.”

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Every-- ah! Everything. Can’t-- can’t th-think. Only thing-- makes it better… you.”

What? Your concentration lapses and the bonds loose. He lunges forward and buries his nose into your neck again, inhaling you as his hands scrabble at your clothes. “Hurts less with you. Smell so good--soft. Please?”

Stars, you can’t think straight with him touching you like this. You bite back a moan as his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your shirt. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to give in. Just for a little. Indulge, and then you can figure out a way back to the Mantis. Then Cal raises your shirt and licks a long stripe up your neck, and that’s all the convincing you need.

You melt into his mouth, your hands running under his shirt and harness. His chest is just as feverishly hot as his forehead, but you can’t bring yourself to care when he swings a leg over yours so he’s hovering over you, knees planted on either side of your body. His hands shove your shirt over your head before setting to work on the button of your pants. You raise your hips to allow him to pull your pants under your butt. Your own hands yank at his clothes, silently begging him to strip with you.

But he doesn’t. He kneels between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your wet folds.

“Cal--!” You’re cut off as he drags his tongue over your pussy, flicking against your clit at the end. Your stomach muscles contract, and it’s all you can do to keep quiet as he licks deep into your core.

---

The world is blurred. It’s like something crawled into his head and messed with his brain, dragging his focus away from more important issues… he can’t seem to remember right now. He can’t even feel the Force. His connection is compromised, the colors of the world are off, and there’s this bone deep ache within his body urging him closer to you. And as he’s drinking in your taste, the pain subsides and he can breathe again.

What is this? What’s happening to him? It has to be the pollen, it has to be its effect on his body, that’s why he’s lost all control over his mind and self. It’s why he can’t hold himself back from your body and you.

You’re all he can focus on; you’re so beautiful writhing under him as he tastes you. He’s never done this before. He can’t figure out why he hasn’t done this sooner, because you taste amazing right now and how you sound as he slides his tongue through your folds is doing things to him that he’s never experienced before.

His hips are dragging against the floor unintentionally. The friction of his dick against the rough material of his pants is a small slice of heaven, and he whimpers at the pure electricity spreading down his spine. He doesn’t want this to end so soon, but his body is shoving him towards the edge of release and the relief he knows is going to come with it.

---

A moan keens high in the back of your throat as Cal’s mouth presses against your soaked core. It’s sloppy and clumsy, but Maker if he doesn’t make up for it with enthusiasm. The only sounds coming from him are tiny moans and grunts and you shudder as his fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, leveraging them apart and holding them there firmly. Of their own will, your hips roll up into his face, chasing after his touch.

You’re completely unprepared for Cal to growl when you do so. His grip tightens, and you squeak as your thighs are spread even farther apart and his mouth completely envelopes your clit.

Is this what heaven feels like? You can barely manage coherent thought when his tongue is devastating you like this, but thequestion rotates around your lust dumb brain as your toes curl and your back arches. Your release rushes up and sweeps you away, your core clenching as waves of pleasure wash over your body. You hear Cal whine as you cum, and you hear your own moans as you ride out your orgasm.

---

Stars, why hadn’t he done this sooner? The sounds that he’s pulling out of you right now could make him come in his pants on the spot, and the taste of your release has him rutting against the ground all the more insistently as he chases his own high.

But he doesn’t want to come in his pants, he wants to be inside of you. He wants you, your body squeezing tight around him, to feel the wetness seeping around his tongue rather than tasting it, even if it tastes divine.

He grabs your hips and yanks you down so your crotch is flush to his. He nearly loses his mind when your soaked core meets the bulge in his pants. Fuck, he thought he could wait, but he can’t.

But--something is still off with the world’s coloring. Where is the Force? The comforting pressure is gone from the back of his mind, the constant reminder of balance that keeps him in tune with his emotions and surroundings. Panic edges around the perimeter of his mind. In an act of desperation, he reaches for the Force, searching for the whispers of memories that accompany his world. They’re gone. Where did they go?

You whisper his name again, and this time his eyes meet yours.

---

You watch Cal carefully. He’s flushed, trembling as he hovers over your body, hands bare centimeters away from your skin. His eyes are desperate, and you can feel the pain in them as clearly as if it was your own. A bead of sweat tracks down his temple to soak into the collar of his harness, and he fumbles to rip the rest of his clothing off, discarding it on the floor as though it burned against his flesh.

“Cal.” He looks back at you. “Take what you need.”

It’s all the permission he needs. Relief and something else flashes through his eyes before he looks back down and fumbles with his pants fastening. His cock is flushed dark red, and his hands tremble as he pulls it out of his pants, jaw clenched as he lines up with your entrance. He slides into you with a bone-deep sigh of relief, and you cry out at the stretch. Every inch sparks pure electricity up your spine, and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out, and for a heart stopping moment you feel a connection to him you couldn’t describe in words. Your hips roll against his, grinding the head of his cock up against something heavenly. Light explodes behind your eyes at the movement, arching your back and curling your toes.

Cal chokes, a beautiful sound you’ve only heard a few times before; the one that sounds like its been pulled from the deepest parts of his being, like he’s just ascended to another plane above the physical. It’s gorgeous and so insanely hot you’re completely unprepared for his sudden movement when he lunges forward.

Cal’s hand shoots out and presses against your neck, effectively pinning your upper body to the hard ground. You inhale shakily through your nose, but his grip does nothing more than hold you. You can still breathe, but the pressure on your throat sends a shock of heat between your legs with the reminder of the control you just relinquished.

“Stop that.” His other arm slams onto the stone beside your head, and your eyes lock. Cal’s pupils are blown, so dark you can almost see your reflection in the dim light of the cave as he glares down at you.

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he drags his hips away from yours, inch by painstaking inch and rocks back into your body with an easy roll of his hips. He exhales gently as he bottoms back out inside of you, a low moan rumbling out of his throat when he reaches that same depth within your heat.

It’s the eye of a storm; a hurricane you hadn’t known you’d entered. He rocks back and forth again, only there’s fractionally more force and speed to the motion this time. Again, and your body shakes with the force. Another, and you have to bite your lip to stifle the scream when he slams back into your body. It’s like the tide, coming in gradually, but more and more with each passing moment. The force swells, each thrust pushing into you a little harder and making your body shake a little more with each thrust.

A shuddering groan rumbles out of him as he finds the rhythm. The hand not pressed delicately around your throat slams down on the rock next to your head. When you look up towards the cave ceiling, Cal’s flushed skin and tousled hair fills your vision.

His hair, which is usually swept out of his eyes. Cal’s hair has always been so well cared for, usually brushed and slicked back so it doesn’t dangle in his eyes. Now, it’s soaked with sweat and falling into his face as he stares down at you like you’re the only star in the sky.

---

Take what you need? Holy stars, he can barely think enough to comprehend it, but some inner part of him aches at the sentence.

As soon as he realized his heart jumped every time you smiled at something, or that his brain short circuited at the sound of your laugh, he’d sworn he would keep it under wraps. He’d promised himself he would wait until after the galaxy finishes imploding and collapsing around your heads. The first time he’d jerked off to the idea of your body, he vowed to satisfy himself with his hand until it was safe. He’d wait until after the holocron is safe and there’s nothing to worry about, because relationships are messy and complicated and--

Fuck, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about that promise, because how can he regret being balls deep in you while you’re whining and squirming underneath him, when you look at him with such trust even as he pins you to the floor by your throat? His eyes gravitate to the mark on your neck, red and irritated with the indent of his teeth, and he feels his cock twitch even as he continues to pound into you. He likes that.

The promise didn’t keep his eyes from wandering to your face at any opportunity. It didn’t prevent the pressure in his chest from growing over the weeks and months. It definitely didn’t keep Cere and Greez from noticing, and that was a conversation he would rather have scrubbed from his mind.

Take what you need. That one sentence is spinning his world on its metaphorical finger. Take what you need. As if he didn’t want it, but he needed to do it. In all honesty, it had really felt like he was going to die. The burning in his throat that caused the coughing fit, then the racing heart and the overheating; he thought he wasn’t going to make it unless he--

Well, unless he fucked you.

But even if he needs it, he wants it even more, had wanted it for too long. But everytime an opportunity presented itself, he pulled back. He remembers how he threw away the flowers he gathered on the mission instead of bringing them back to you on the Mantis. He remembers every time he denied spending time with you, because his emotions were too raw and close to the surface, and he couldn’t predict his control over his own tongue. Because he didn’t think he could have handled it if you didn’t want him back.

But you had offered to help. Maybe you’d wanted it too, because the whole galaxy could be shoving you in one direction and you would defy it. Nothing can make you do anything you didn’t want to, and that applies to Cal Kestis too.

---

Your orgasm swells up sharp and sudden, gripping you in its claws and shoving you into the attack of muscle spasms and searing pleasure that punches into your abdomen. Your body arches, accidentally hitting your head against the ground.

Cal’s rhythm stutters and his hips jerk forward. His hand leaves your throat as he drops to his forearms. His head drops down to press against yours gently, even as he whimpers and continues to grind forward into your soaking heat.

“Fuck.” Cal gasps, eyelids fluttering rapidly. “Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.”

There’s no time to respond before he’s drawing up and tensing against you. His hips piston in and out once, then he’s cumming and all you can do is lie there and take it. Fuck that’s hot.

You can feel him spilling into you, every warm spurt of cum and every twitch of his cock as he spends himself. Even better is the drawn out groan that trails into his upper register, ending in a tiny whimper. The tension drains out of his face and he sags down, sweaty skin pressed against yours. His arms wrap around your body and he hoists your limp body up as he rolls over. He sits against the wall of the cave, seating you on his lap, cock still firmly buried inside you.

You allow your head to sag back against his shoulder, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed so closely to yours. His hand paws weakly at the fabric of your shirt, and you raise your arms to slide it off. It’s better like this, skin to skin contact seems to calm him down. He buries his nose into your bare neck and mumbles something you can’t make out.

You nudge your head against his gently, “Hm?”

“Thank you.” His lips ghost over the delicate juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Thank you thank you thank you...” He continues to mutter the phrase into your skin, tickling your skin as he nuzzles closer to you.

You should say something. Confess, maybe, everything you’ve been hiding. “Cal, I--” You shift slightly, and something feels off. You furrow your brow and glance downwards at your joining point, “Cal are you still hard?”

He props his chin on your shoulder. “Uh--” He thrusts shallowly up into you, and you stifle a whimper. “Ye-yeah. Sorry?”

“N--” You gasp as his cock twitches. “No. Don’t be sorry. Do you need to go again?” Arousal stirs in your core again, burning a slow path through your nerves and reigniting the flames that had dulled to embers. Your breath catches in your chest and you grind your hips back into his.

“I--I think so.” His voice is strained and his breath comes in short gasps next to your ear. “Not-- not as-- as bad though.”

“That--ah!” Cal chooses that exact moment to pick a spot on your neck and latch on. He nips at the skin before soothing it with his tongue. His hands, roughened with callouses from his saber, climbing, and tinkering, scrape over your skin with just the right amount of friction. You bite your bottom lip. “That’s fine. Should I move?”

His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place. That’s a no then. His hips rock up into yours gently, and you feel your cheeks warm at the wet sounds of your combined release. Cal grunts, “Let me.”

So you do. You lie back against his bare chest and just take what he gives you, whimpering whenever he brushes against that spot inside you that sends electricity up your spine. You’re gripping his arms so hard you’re sure he’s going to have bruises in the shape of your fingers.

---

Stars, you’re fucking perfect. Just lying here and giving yourself to him. He can feel the Force dimly, but it’s there. The pollen is leaving his system as he slowly fucks you on a cave floor in the middle of a dense forest while stormtroopers patrol outside.

You cry out with his next thrust, the head of his cock striking something inside of you that must feel good because you clench around him and--

Did you just come again?

The additional lubrication only increases the lewd squelch with every thrust, the mixture of his cum and yours only making sliding in and out of your channel easier. He can still feel the effects of the pollen at the back of his mind, and it keeps him hard and sensitive as he continues to fuck you.

He’s aware he should be at least a little worried about the implications, starting at the top with how he’s going to complete the mission and ending with what exactly fucking on a cave floor means for your relationship. Somewhere in the middle is the stormtroopers and the pollen, and the oath of the Jedi Order forbidding relationships. But he can’t grasp it.

Even if there are more pressing concerns, all he can do right now is continue pushing his hips up into your soaking core painstakingly slowly. He wants to enjoy this while he can, while he’s able to fool himself that you want him back. Unless…

---

The only solace you could find in the situation was that you could have Cal, even for these few short moments. Because as much as you may want to convince yourself, a tiny voice inside your head keeps whispering: it’s all the pollen. That’s the only reason why he wants you. And you force yourself to believe the voice, because it’s easier to block off any chance for pain and rejection.

But you know you’re in trouble the second Cal opens his mouth. The words are a harsh whisper, rasping out of his dry throat into your ear, “Beautiful. So gorgeous, giving me what I need, what I want.”

You arch against him and stifle the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His mouth is right next to your ear, so there isn’t anywhere for you to escape from the words that rumble into your brain; words you try to convince yourself are empty. You shove your hand against your mouth rather than allow any sound to escape.

He moans, “Want to do this again. Don’t want this to be just once.”

“Th--that--that’s the pollen talking.” You gasp when you feel his fingers graze over your clit, your own hand drifting back to latch into his hair.

Cal hisses when you tug with a little more strength than necessary, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. One hand supports your weight as he moves you up and down on his dick, the other rubbing little circles around your clit. His hips make up for the lost strength everytime they drive up into you at the lowest point of the rhythm, squelching with every thrust.

“Not--not the pollen. All you. All me.”

You blink, all temporarily forgotten when the words register in your hazy mind. “...What?”

“Wanted this. Wanted this for a while.” Cal finds your clit with his fingers, and you can’t prevent the way your legs jerk and your body seizes against his.

Fuck you’re going to cum. If the first orgasm was a flashfire, this one is a slowly simmering blaze. It creeps up slowly, burning a hole through your abdomen, curling around your ribs and inching down your legs. Your eyes roll back, and your head falls back against Cal’s shoulder.

“Cal. I--I thi--” You try to warn him, you really do. But words aren’t forming correctly right now, and it’s all you can do to hunker down and try to prepare yourself for this truly devastating crest that’s preparing to launch you over the edge.

If Cal gets your warning, he doesn’t show it. All he does is turn his head to the side, press a light kiss to your cheek, and groan, “I think I love you.”

Oh shit. Cal’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect if he planned it. Before you can respond, hell, before you can even begin to fucking process that last sentence, you’re coming hard. Maybe it’s the whiff of pollen you got earlier, or the fact that Cal is the one fucking you so sweetly and thoroughly, or the thrill of being mere steps away from discovery, or a combination of all of it, but this orgasm certainly feels like the most intense of your life.

Spasms ripple outward through your belly, curling you up in Cal’s lap as you ride out your high. Your legs straighten and your toes curl and you clamp down hard around Cal’s cock.

Cal shouts raggedly in your ear, pulling your body close. But even as you whimper and shake on the end of his cock, you remember that you can’t make too much sound.

As if he heard you, Cal burrows his face into your shoulder, his teeth once again finding a place in your skin to muffle his voice as he cums deep inside you once more. His body shakes as he spends himself again, the spasms slowly subsiding with every jerk of his hips into yours.

‘I did hear you.’ There’s a tinge of amusement to the nonexistent voice that echoes in your mind, and you relax back against Cal.

‘Feeling better?’ You nudge him back through the Force, revelling in the feeling of his colorful presence swirling around you once again. The pollen has worn off.

He doesn’t say anything in response, only pulls you close with his arms around you. His mind pushes at yours, and you let him in. You’ve done this a million times, usually on the tail end of nighttime panic attacks, but this time is different. This is the most loose he has ever been with his Force presence, and you allow it to fill the empty parts of your mind. Wait, he loves you?

He rushes over you in the same way the tide comes back to land, calming your fear at finally understanding the weight of his last confession. He’s relaxed, and the familiar energy has a new angle to it, a new emotion you hadn’t felt before in another’s Force signature. You grasp it gently, turning it over and admiring it in the eye of your mind. What is it?

The answer rushes to you just as Cal mutters against your skin, “Love.” The same thing you’d been feeling in the pit of your heart every time you looked at Cal, everytime he kept you safe from the nightmares in his arms and stayed with you until morning, every time you made him tea and did maintenance on his gear after a tough mission.

“I love you.”

You blink up at the ceiling of the rock cave, mouth open with the words just on the tip of your tongue. But they won’t come. The words are stuck in your throat, and try as you might, you can’t make yourself say them.

“Hey.” Cal whispers in your ear, and you shut your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. But you know that I do, and I know a little of what’s going on up here.” His finger taps the side of your head lightly. "You don't have to figure out where to go from here. I'll navigate."

‘Thank you.’ You send the words through the Force, and he acknowledges them. Yeah, you're shit at knowing where to go when it comes to feelings. But at least with Cal, you won't have to worry about getting lost alone. You sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, before a thought occurs to you.

“Cal.” His name is little more than a weak rasp off your tongue. You clear your throat and try again. “Cal.”

He grunts unintelligibly.

“Don’t bring that seed back to the Mantis.”

A/N: I will be the first to admit that this fic was hard, because I wanted to incorporate some previous feelings into this to make it less dubcon, and I didn't feel that all plot holes were filled. But that didn't make this any less enjoyable for me, and it was fun to explore a new facet of Cal's character.

Thanks for everyone who gave me inspiration and motivation to keep pushing this through the old brain up here. Smut isn't the easiest for me:)

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #sex pollen #pining fools #pining #fluff #feelings #smut

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