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sinisterexaggerator · 4 months

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Got it Bad

Poe Dameron x Fem! Reader

Summary: You are a medic aboard the Anodyne, a Resistance frigate frequented by one Poe Dameron. He often comes to see you when he is injured; you assume this time to be no different, as he is reckless in the line of duty and could do with your healing touch. But you have underestimated him; he has to show you something. Will you entertain his request?

Warnings: Explicit / NSFW 18+ for: Heavy petting, cunnilingus, PiV sex, kissing, blood and injury, premature ejaculation, dirty talk, medical scenarios, and mention of death in wartime. Contains: fluff, a liiittle bit of angst, smut, humor, and “love” confessions.

Notes: This is my first time writing for Poe Dameron! Dedicated to @allsystemsblue, because she was the one who told me to! Poe is all over the place in this, but always about consent!

Word Count: 8.1K

Divider and banner by me.

“How many times has it been, then?”

Doe brown eyes blinked once, twice, spidery lashes that may as well have been made of gossamer, or silk, gracing tawny skin with a kiss. Poe Dameron stared blankly at you as you dressed his wound, this being one of the numerous occasions that you were tasked to do so.

You were one of the many medics aboard this particular Resistance vessel that patrolled the Outer Rim. Stationed not too far from D’Qar and the principal base of General Organa herself, this reckless, daredevil pilot had a tendency to bless you with his presence after what you would call less than routine missions.

Not desiring to arrive to his superior a bloodied mess more than necessary, Poe frequently docked his T-70 star fighter in your frigate’s docking bay for safekeeping, allowing his droid companion free rein of the halls. Moments earlier, BB-8 had been offered a recharging station, Dameron left in your expert care as his ball droid rolled off and out of sight, following closely behind a member of the maintenance crew. The conversation between the two had been amusing to witness.

“Don’t worry, buddy! I’ll be right here waiting for you. Maybe. Possibly.”

BB had issued a series of complaints and reprimands in Droidspeak, causing the pilot to wince as if being scolded by his mother, or the general herself.

“All right, fine! I’ll come and find you then. No sweat.”

Satisfied, the orange and white orb had swirled on its axis, wheeling fluidly across a duralloy floor, leaving its master alone to suffer the consequences of his actions. Though Dameron did not seem to care, remaining somewhat unbothered by the gash across his forehead from where a piece of shrapnel had sent Black One into a spin. Before he could regain control, Poe’s head had crashed into the yolk of his X-wing, leaving a two-inch rent in his flesh.

No, he had not been wearing his helmet.

Despite his foolhardy nature, you thought it curious. With such a varied assortment of medical personnel living and working on the Anodyne - a modified Nebulon-C escort employed by the Resistance for the express purpose of being a mobile hospital - it was a wonder of yours why Poe always chose to search you out.

Not considering yourself to be anything in the way of special, at least the skills you possessed were adequate to put him on the mend. But, somehow, this visit seemed different, even if sticky crimson coated his handsome features.

You had come to notice that Poe was spending less time talking and more time staring, a thing you were not accustomed to as his gaze was unrelenting, the commander scrutinizing every facet of your appearance. He had seemed to limit himself to the surface area of your face, wandering, probing, exploring the curve of your nose, the outline of your lips, and finally the warmth in your eyes.

“Y-you didn’t answer me,” you commented, applying bacta to the injured man with a dabble of your fingers, your voice having lost its normal confidence as Dameron uttered a single, muted question.

“Huh?” he asked, as if only now realizing he was indeed a person, and that he could be perceived by others. He sat up marginally in his chair, those unyielding, heavy-lidded eyes almost vacantly looking through you, or so you thought.

You were beginning to wonder if this had anything to do with the fact that he might be mildly concussed. You were also becoming self-conscious, trying to keep the conversation on track despite Poe being so close to you with his blood staining your hands. “How many times has it been that you have come to see me these last few months? Don’t you know how to stay out of trouble?”

“No,” he answered without thought, leaning forward once more in the chair serving him for his examination. That sole syllable had been expressed in a dilatory fashion, soft and airy, only inches from your mouth.

You let out a breathy exhalation, surprised by this turn of events, yet nothing had happened. The cocky pilot dared to bite down on a rather pouty bottom lip; he watched you intently, gauging your reaction as he dallied there, finally adding more in the way of a response. “That’s why I’m here. Again.”

“Yes, right, obviously,” you managed, trying to restore some semblance of equanimity over yourself after having been caught off guard.

“Obviously,” he echoed, the word a whisper in the all too quiet room. However, this would not last as more wounded boarded the ship at intervals, soon the medical bay filled with a bustle of activity.

Unwanted activity.

Poe glanced around, assessing the situation. You had just finished bandaging him up when his hand reached out for yours, gently clasping your wrist.

“Doc, I’ve gotta show you something. I’ve got it-- bad.”

“It?” you inquired incredulously, your own glance taking an appraisal of the room. His voice had lowered again, as if this topic of conversation was not meant to be overheard. His expression appeared serious, deep-set brows knitting together in a visual show of his concern. You mimicked him, a rather human way to show empathy in this case, though not entirely sure what for.

“It,” he confirmed, gently pulling you forward toward himself, as if you weren’t already close enough. Your breathing picked up as you posed a follow-up question, a simple one, and straight to the point.

“What?”

He did that thing again, the staring, as if you were a sheet of transparisteel and he was looking beyond it to the other side. You scanned his face, those ruggedly attractive bits of him that you had tended to time and time again.

“Um—” he paused, as if not knowing what to say, like his words had failed him, which was not out of the realm of possibility as you could confirm this uncommon pilot flew by the seat of his pants. You canted your head, expecting some sort of answer, your gaze trailing to Dameron’s fingers latched gingerly around your forearm.

You took note of their thickness, their length, his nails surprisingly trim and immaculate for being a fighter pilot, though you doubted he spent that much time on solid earth when he craved the sky; realspace; to soar among the stars. Catching yourself quickly, it had not gone unnoticed, Poe matching your tilt of the head with one of his own as he peered up at you with those unwavering, expressive eyes.

“Rash … Inya Prime … Think it might be serious,” he informed you, causing you to retract and sit up straight. You tugged yourself loose from his grasp and frowned, turning to wipe your hands off the best you could on an otherwise clean towel, wishing he would have told you this before you had gone and touched him.

“Well, let’s see it then,” you offered, swiveling back around to face him. The pilot pursed his lips before biting down again, his foot beginning to tap against the floor; the motion was almost sultry, like this whole charade was planned.

For some reason, you doubted that assumption.

“It’s … I can’t show you here,” he confessed, lowering his head as he turned it to the left and right, giving the medical bay another sweep with his eyes; it was as if he was suddenly your conspirator, Poe carrying and guarding an important secret.

“Where then?” You compelled an eyebrow to stay level, it wanting to raise of its own volition. It was your turn to stare, Poe taking up each of your hands again, regardless of the fact you had just tried to halfheartedly clean them. He placed them gently atop his knees; he held you there, and you dare not move. Then, the man bore directly into you with his hardened gaze, nudging his head toward the exit door.

“Exam room, down the hall. It’s, um – it’s private.”

You gave him a reproving look. “Why were you on Inya Prime in the first place?” you asked, your fingers twitching beneath his. You were caught between wanting to relax and to allow this to happen, or to jerk yourself away for fear of someone getting the wrong idea.

“Reconnaissance,” he replied without missing a beat. You supposed that seemed logical enough, though Inya Prime was a small, boring, terrestrial planet of little to no interest to most.

That explained the civilian clothing, whereas most of the time Poe arrived to you in his bright orange flight suit, standing out like a ray of sunshine among the dark, depressing backdrop of space.

“And how did you get this rash?” you inquired curiously, wondering why it was he could not show you here instead, or just how bad it might be.

“You don’t wanna know,” he stated with a sense of finality, eyes searching yours, as if he was trying to penetrate your thoughts with a Jedi mind trick. You held his gaze a moment longer than expected before quickly standing to your feet; you felt the need to break physical contact, Dameron’s hands warm, rough, and—

“Fine, let’s hurry. There are others who need tending to.” It was the truth, yet you could feel your heartbeat betraying you by thumping loudly in your chest; you were sure that Poe could hear it.

“Right, let’s,” he said, standing. He walked a pace ahead of you then turned back around. He lingered, making sure you were going to follow him before he started out the door.

The man seemed nervous, slicking back a ringlet of dark hair that refused to stay in place. He ambulated somewhat awkwardly around the corner, then waited for you to unlock the examination room with a clearing of his throat. It then occurred to him he was standing in your way; he opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it, moving to one side as you gave him an inquisitive side-eye, using your badge to unlock the facilities.

He nodded, just a small movement of his head, eyes darting forward as if thinking hard on something before he entered the small space. It was fitted with a table for patients to lie on - equipped with a step stool and stirrups - a cabinet filled with various medical supplies, a curtain for dressing and undressing, a scale for taking a patient’s weight, and blood pressure detection equipment, among other things. It had all those items necessary and then some, though depending on your diagnosis, you imagined you might need to prescribe him an antifungal ointment of some kind.

“All right, we’re here,” you offered with a gesture. “Now, show me this rash.”

Poe gave a jittery laugh, answering you with a nervy “heh” as he ran his forefinger along the clean sheets of the table laid out before him as if he was checking it for dust.

“Yeah, about that,” he finally spoke up, walking full circle around the bed-like object before he arrived behind you.

“You see, doc—” he began; you craned your neck, looking over your shoulder at him, wanting to know why you now felt trapped, barred to the only way out as he had sandwiched himself between you and the door. “It’s right here,” he said, placing his open palm against his chest and giving it a tap.

This time you were the one to clear your throat, tossing back your hair as you straightened up to appear more professional, or perhaps dignified, forcing yourself to not think about how you were about to come into contact with, or at least see, Poe Dameron’s bare breast.

All things considered, he was an attractive man. You had thought that the moment you laid eyes on him; the time he had come to you battered and beaten with a black eye and a sprained ankle – he had taken a tumble down the side of a rather steep hill on some backwater, jungle-planet and only made it back to his X-wing thanks to members of Black Squadron. His foot was so badly swollen by the time he reached you, it was a miracle he could walk - or hobble – at all.

A thought occurred to you. “I should wash my hands before we begin,” you declared, moving toward the small sink stationed with a cleaning solution that was meant for disinfection as much as it was for washing away dirt and grim.

Poe looked taken aback momentarily, words caught in his throat as he gave another nod, this one more exaggerated. “Yeah, right, OK,” he shot back, as if for some reason this had been a surprise to him.

You began your task, one hand over the other as you lathered yourself, peeking back at him. “Why don’t you take off your shirt?” you suggested, not able to help the way saying that made you feel, like this was anything more than a clinical procedure.

You could hear the rustle of fabric as Poe began to undo the buttons on his dress shirt, getting the feeling that he was watching you, studying you, bent slightly over the basin in which you were cleansing yourself of his blood. It swirled around the drainage, leading to a reserve tank that purified and recycled what little water was aboard this frigate; you knew that every drop was precious.

Finishing quickly, you refaced him, Dameron’s broad, naked chest staring you straight in the face, though he had not bothered to remove his button up all the way; its two panels were parted and pushed off to opposing sides.

Firm pectorals were spattered with a thin sheen of dark curls, matching the scruff of a beard that had just recently begun to form on his perfectly sculpted cheeks, running its course down to a chiseled jawline. Beneath wisps of black was smooth, golden skin - as if kissed by a main sequence star that orbited some planetary paradise - the happiest of trails leading down and beyond the waistline of his trousers.

You watched, entranced, the rise and fall of his stomach with every breath he took, in and out, slow, and almost deliberately so. You swallowed to remedy the dry sensation in your mouth with what saliva you had available, wondering if your face appeared as red as you felt it must be.

“Right, OK. Rash,” you announced out loud, purposely making an effort to look up and back into his eyes.

Again, he put his hand up, over his heart. “Here,” he repeated, “Right here. You see—”

Poe stepped forward, and you stepped back, each move he made a calculated risk, but one worth taking. “— my … heart,” he said, voice lowering an octave, then promptly continuing, “it… burns, itches, when I can’t … see you,” he emphasized. “And. You. You’re the cure, you’re the—”

He walked another pace forward, looming above you as you found yourself pressing back against the wall of the exam room. “—the only one who can make it better,” he breathily muttered, so close now you could smell the scent of the shampoo he used; it was reminiscent of citrus, but not overpowering.

“W-what—?” You felt you couldn’t believe your ears, your neck lifting back and up as you analyzed his intense facial expression. “Poe, I—”

“Shhh,” he sibilated with a press of his index to your lips. Then, he changed the subject, however momentary. “I lied to you, by the way. There is no rash, I—”

“—Yes, I’ve figured that out,” you interrupted, though your words came out weak, quavering.

“Sometimes, I pretend to be sick or hurt just to come see you. That headache last week?” He gave a short, sharp laugh. “More like … heartache,” he finished, encapsulating your chin between two fingers as his lips met yours.

Your body froze; you were immobile, unable to breathe, unable to speak, and unable to comprehend exactly what was going on. Granted, you may have imagined this moment once or twice – every guy, or girl aboard this vessel you assumed had done so at one point or another. There was more than one reason Dameron was referred to so aptly as “Flyboy,” though you tried not to let that tarnish the present moment.

The only thing you could articulate was a soft moan of acceptance, melting despite yourself against the durasteel partition behind you. Ruddy fingers traveled upward, this time tangling themselves in your hair, palm cupping the back of your head as he gently drew you into a deeper kiss.

“Poe,” you gasped against him, your own hand rising to lightly push against his rock-hard pecs; it was a mistake on your part, this simple act of touching his unclothed chest the catalyst from which your loins stirred. “What—”

“—It,” he murmured, bringing the conversation back around from when he had coaxed you to this place. “—the thing I’ve got it bad for. It’s you,” he conceded, Dameron’s tongue slithering past full lips to gently prod at yours that stood partially agape, ready to accept another kiss.

You easily allowed him entry, that warm, wet muscle dancing in a figure eight, the pattern slow and rhythmic as he lapped at your suddenly hungry mouth. But you would not let lust overtake you, you were a woman of scruples, principles, and a practitioner of medicine; there was a time and place for this sort of thing and now was not it.

“Dameron,” you began again, this time managing to put just enough space between you so that you might think straight, Poe’s eyes immediately overtaking yours with a primal, excitable energy that penetrated you to the depths of your soul. He was so eager, you thought, so attentive, the man hanging, waiting, willing, to hear anything you might have to say.

“I believe you’re concussed, I think it’s best that—”

“I’m fine. Better than fine. Everything’s perfect,” he interjected, pressing his mouth against yours once more.

“—Why?” you blurted out, the question having clawed its way out of your chest. It was common knowledge that the man before you got around, not able to imagine that this meant anything more than an attempt at a quick hook-up.

“Because. I can’t. Stop. Thinking. About you. You.” He spoke your name, a tickle in your ear that sent a tingle of excitement prickling down your spine, leaving goose pimples that were undeniable to the naked eye.

“I can’t explain it. Maybe it doesn’t make any sense; you, me…” he trailed off, the butt of his thumb running over the curvilinear shape of your ear. “I watch you. Sometimes. Not to… sound creepy,” he added quickly, giving a somewhat apologetic look. “… You’re incredible. Calm in the face of danger, in the face of uncertainty. And. You’re not afraid,” he emphasized.

“Besides—” Poe bent down low, brushing his lips across yours, featherlight, causing a feeble mewl to escape before you had the time or the wherewithal to rein it in. “— what if we die. What if this is the only chance I ever get to tell you?”

He was right. What was the use of pondering the future, what could or could not be, based on the assumption that you were going to live another day, or two, or three. With the First Order threatening to undo all the hard work of the New Republic, your lot was on the run, your fierce and beloved leader the only thing keeping this small resistance group together, albeit haphazardly organized.

You feared for the general every waking moment, taking your orders come what may, keeping your head down, the only thing breaking the monotony of your day besides the constant fear of attack or death being this charming, handsome man who now held your attention, and had done so on more than one occasion.

“Kiss me again, then,” you begged, any objection you may have dared to make fleeing irrevocably to leave you open and vulnerable to the onslaught of his affection sans your better judgement.

“Mn, yeah?” he coyly asked, the fingers of his hand, dormant for your short discussion, reactivating to knead the base of your skull as he gently pulled you forward, Dameron once more inserting his crafty tongue into your waiting mouth.

His movements were thoughtful, tongue writhing and contracting in a measured orchestration that seemed rehearsed, yet special to this instant. Each loop was intricate, never so much as to be distracting, Poe’s delicious kiss spurring you to action.

You lifted your hand, allowing your fingers to clutch tufts of his hair. You moaned against him, his arms instinctively tightening around you before he pulled away, gasping for breath.

“Can I touch you?” he bashfully asked, hands smoothing over your back to descend in a downward sweep across your waist and hips. “Please, baby, please say yes. Please, please,” he whined, ardent pecks of his velvet lips only a bonus; you had not planned to turn him away regardless.

“Yes,” you sighed out lasciviously, thinking this entire situation was too good to be true. But why not embrace it for what it was? You deserved admiration, affection, love.

“Thank you,” he expressed with gratitude, as if you had given him his greatest wish, Poe adjusting himself accordingly as he gifted you with another lush, sensual kiss; it was tender and languid, feeling the movement of Dameron’s hand shift from the edge of your hip to the drawstring of your pants.

You were adorned in scrubs, a stark reminder of your station and position, yet you could not help that you were human with needs and urges to be fulfilled. Hell, you hadn’t even known you wanted this until it was happening, though life was anything but predictable - it was sporadic. And if Poe was anything, it was that.

You admired that about him. He had an almost childlike whimsy, taking all things in stride, even his injuries when he acquired them. He cared about others so often and so much he frequently forgot about this own ails. It was a good quality to have in a leader, and although he was often rebuked by his superiors, Dameron was an honorable commander and an even better pilot.

“Keep going,” you implored as you felt your desire building upon itself, pooling in the seat of your belly. Desperately, you wanted him to touch you, Poe inclining his head to one side as he broke apart from your pleading lips.

He made heady eye contact, the way he looked at you both dizzying and intoxicating, the man licking his teeth as he quipped a hushed “Yeah?” alongside the act of his fingers trailing to just below the hem of your waistband. They slipped down, down, two braver than the others as Poe’s index and middle finger disappeared beneath the front of your pants and past the soft, cotton layer of your panties.

Dameron groaned a sound, as if performing a task that was somewhat arduous, yet it was meant to evince appreciation for the soft bed of fluff that greeted him, all prim and trim. His breathing picked up, his probing appendages creeping further inside your undergarments; he whimpered against your throat, feeling welcomed by the warm slick that saturated his thick digits as he parted those soft, pillowy lips that lived between your hips, aligning the underside of his forefinger against the protuberance of your clit.

“Mn, you want this just as much as I do,” he teased, his words husky and sensuous, yet not at all meant to be disrespectful. He was the playful sort; you were glad it translated into other areas of his life, namely intimate moments like these, as it eased the tension you were feeling; the thought you were doing something you should not be doing; something wrong.

“Mhm,” you muttered, the interjection a dulcet susurration upon your partway puckered lips. It quickly devolved into an immodest moan as his thumb joined in, aiding in spreading your folds to allow him ease of access to your shrouded pearl.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you, his tone coated in sugar sweetness as Poe continued to cheer you on, “you’re so soft, and warm, and— ohhh,” he cut himself short, feeling embarrassed for not only the sizeable boner he was jabbing into your leg, but the fact that if he did not control himself he might very well cum in his pants.

“I—mmn. Admiral Ackbar naked. Admiral Ackbar naked," he intoned at low volume; you proceeded to laugh, though Poe did not, a look of stern determination on his face. Still, that did not stop him from pleasuring you as he gingerly thumbed that little nub betwixt your thighs, concentric circles close-knit and diligently applied as you trembled enticingly in his arms.

“Is this OK?” he rumbled in your ear, his voice a throaty purr that made you pitch ever so slightly forward with the goal of kissing him again.

“Y-yes,” you managed, your body mildly spasming as you sought after his tongue, Dameron ever so subtly picking up speed in the way he massaged your swollen clit. It thrummed beneath his finger; he tested uncharted territory, gradually inserting his index inside you to the top of his second knuckle. You were already so wet there was barely any friction to speak of, Poe once more moaning aloud to impart his satisfaction to whoever was there to listen – you.

“Oh, you feel- you feel, so, so good,” he rattled off, priming that digit to curl just inside and against the anterior wall of your sex; you gasped, though you had known what was coming, you just didn’t know how amazing the sensation would feel until he was already pushing you toward an orgasm.

“Don’t stop,” you entreated anxiously, the pliant underside of his thumb continuing its mission as it stimulated your glandular bundle of nerves; they twitched faintly, pulsating under his proficient hands.

“OK, yes. Yes. Tell me. Tell me what you want, baby,” he affirmed. You were quick to answer.

“Another kiss,” you adjured, Poe indulging you before the words could die on your lips. The passion he brought to your embrace, the delicate way in which he held you, the rhythmic pattern of his tongue inside your mouth – it drove you to a quick release, Dameron sucking the heavy breaths from your lungs as he attempted to engulf you, so zealous was his appetite for your quiet, though rapturous praise.

You briefly closed your eyes to regain your composure, breathing ragged, then gazed upon his face as you struggled to recover. He pulled away to stare at you, the feeling of his forefinger sliding out of your soaked cunt something not to be ignored.

You gasped again, a tiny sound. Poe admired you with a twinkle in his eye. Then, he gravitated forward, bending so close to your ear. “I can do better.”

“What?” you questioned, confused, trying to curtail your panting breaths. The twinkle in his eye was infectious, spreading to his mouth, Poe’s pretty lips outstretching into a broad, mischievous grin.

“Wait,” he stated.

You observed as he bent forward into a crouch, sneaking along the wall toward the automated entry. Staying to its right, he was careful not to trigger its motion sensor, using the nearby keypad to lock it from the inside. This time, you did quirk a brow, Poe lowering the lights manually to off, but not before making sure the shades were closed to the rectangular window that gave you a mundane view into the hall. However, you may as well be seven feet tall in order to see out of it, and there were species that tall aboard this ship.

Overall, you felt stupid for not having done this before, yet everything had occurred so quickly. What if you had been caught by a co-worker, or your boss? You had no idea how to explain being fingered by Poe Dameron in a room that could otherwise be utilized to someone else’s benefit.

Then, the man came forward, standing to his full stature as he joined you where he had left you, haggard and still somewhat discombobulated from what just happened – that’s when he picked you up, bending at the knees to wrap both arms around your waist as he carried you aloft, your entire body remaining upright and vertical.

“Poe! What are you—”

“Shh, shh,” he endeavored to keep you silent, walking around the corner of the examination table to place you gently upon it in a somewhat forced, seated position. He immediately got to work, as he had started with your footwear, taking it upon himself to remove one shoe at a time.

“Are you a screamer, or are you a whiner?” he asked with another cheesy smile etched across his face, “because I don’t mind either, but the screaming may draw attention, and I assume that’s something you don’t want.”

“I-I don’t—”

“-know?” He shook his head as if in disbelief, though somehow not surprised. “Ooh, we’ve gotta set you straight, doc!”

You meant to argue, but with your shoes gone, Poe began to roll down your socks; it was one of the most intimate things you had experienced, watching with rapt attention as he pushed the fabric down bit by bit, replacing it with moist kisses along the top of your foot and up toward your now bare ankle.

“You don’t mind, right?” he asked offhand, Poe repeating the process on the other side; this time he enveloped your big toe, intaking it into his mouth as he teasingly sucked, mimicking a poi fish who wanted to dine on what it perhaps thought was a worm.

You involuntarily squirmed, pushing against the tops of his shoulders. “That tickles!” you declared, Poe gazing up into your eyes as a “pop” resounded upon release.

Then, with that same unapologetically severe, impassioned stare, Dameron rose to half-stand on his knees as his hands found your hips, fingers digging into the loose band at your waist. He pulled, softly but with enthusiasm, hypnotizing, chestnut-colored eyes once more drilling a hole straight down into your core as he tugged one pant leg off, then the other, followed by a move that would rid you of your underwear.

Partially naked, and on top of your own examination table no less, you instead tried to forget what repercussions might follow suit of your actions and leaned down to kiss the man again. He rose higher, forcing you to straighten your neck and back, Poe’s broad hands encasing the breadth of your face within them to hold you so, so carefully as he returned your gesture as naturally as if he was drinking water.

Come to find this was a tactic, the man releasing you after stealing your breath away a second or third time, hands sliding to lightly shove you back by the shoulders as he lay you down. At once he disappeared from your line of sight, leaving you faced with a view of the ceiling directly above your head; you idly wondered if you were both getting too far ahead of yourselves.

“Poe, I don’t think we should be—” You exhaled noisily, words caught as you choked on a breath, your overactive imagination unable to be controlled as you envisioned the intense kiss you had experienced earlier being reenacted between your legs. The man had pinned you by your hips, kissing once, twice, - feverishly - the inguinal groove that connected your abdominal wall to your thigh, not wasting a moment’s time in making your briefly held fantasy come true.

“Hm? Mmmn,” Dameron hummed, his response muffled by your flesh. Your body stiffened before relaxing as he licked your already soaked slit with the flat of his tongue; it effortlessly slipped between the folds of your labia, Poe toying with your clit, running circles until the whole thing delved inside your opening.

The man pulled you forward by your thighs, closer to the edge of the table; you could feel the paper bedsheet sliding beneath you as he lapped at your cunt like it was a second mouth. He moaned into you, his breath hot on your skin, the scruff of his chin chaffing your legs, but you did not once complain.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he whispered, the tip of that furled muscle retracting to glide upward along your delightfully slick vulva before it once more found the nub that was begging to be touched; it was already so sensitive.

Your chest heaved as a ripple of pleasure quaked through you, Poe beginning to suck the hard bit that was the recurrent object of his focus. At that moment, you felt blessed, belting out a sound that was a cross between elation and ecstasy, the final product being nothing more than a subdued pule from downy lips.

“Oh, fuck,” you crooned, your thighs progressively closing around either side of Poe’s head as you instinctively tried to brace yourself against your coming climax.

“That’s what I thought—ooh, hey,” the pilot protested, not liking one bit the sudden fettering of his movements. He dislodged himself, then pushed down with both his hands, parting your legs again to make sure he had unrestricted access to your cunt.

Then, he had an idea. “That’s not happening again,” he informed you with an impish smirk, Dameron lifting you up by the underside of your ass as he dragged you even closer, this time making use of the equipment made available to him, though this wasn’t exactly a gynecological exam. The scoundrel picked up both your feet, one after the other, making sure each one was secured in turn, having positioned you spread eagle with your shamelessly wet pussy put on full display.

“Ohh, this is beautiful. Perfect. You’re perfect.” The man had stopped to stare at the exquisite view before him, a hungry look overtaking his winsome visage; you had barely lifted your neck, perhaps meaning to address him, before you were forced to expel a mousy squeak following a show of near desperation on his part.

Poe had darted forward. Now hands-free and having situated you in stirrups, Dameron plunged his tongue back inside of you while clasping his fingers behind his back as he liked to imagine himself in binders. He tongue fucked you as your chest expanded and contracted with each euphoric breath, deep and slow, before he redirected all his energy back to your eager bud.

Then, his head joined in, bobbing back and forth as he enthusiastically ate you out like a man starved, consuming his first meal in weeks, months.

Wet sounds invaded your ears, Poe miming a hound lapping water; it only caused your clit to pulse, your right arm lowering for impatient fingers to latch onto his raven locks; you were careful not to disturb the dressings on his forehead even so, not wanting to let your hard work go to waste.

You held him steady; you pulled him closer, thighs trembling, though your legs still remained forced apart with knees jutting out to either side. It was the dirtiest, nastiest you had ever felt, yet at the same time Poe had made you feel alive. Alive, and not just waiting around to die.

You moaned lewdly as you gently bucked your hips, your body convulsing in rapture as his focus was laser sharp, the full expanse of his thick, skillful tongue caressing you softly from the cusp of your vagina to the vertex of your throbbing clit – over, and over, and over again.

The pattern he applied was slow and methodical, Poe’s cock beyond hard as he gently humped thin air. The man himself was groaning, speaking breathlessly against the soft flesh of your mound, even as he continued to dine.

“Baby, you taste so, so sweet. So, so, good. Mm, be a good girl, yeah? Nice and easy for me. Nice and easy…” The pilot’s words trailed off, that gentle lapping turning toward a precise, calculated stroke with just the tip, this being the very thing that drove to you the point of no return; you came again, one hand still buried in Poe’s hair as the other clasped at your breast.

“Mmmn, oh shit, oh fuck, Poe,” you cursed again, your entire being writhing in unbridled bliss as you rode out one of the most intense orgasms in recent history, this only encouraging the pilot to keep at it until you physically had to push his head away, albeit with caution.

Poe looked up at you with those emotive, gorgeous brown eyes, lips glossy with your excess; you panted heavily, looking down on what could only be described as a shit-eating grin. You took a few more moments to recuperate, then made a demand of him that even surprised yourself. “Fuck me, right now, please.”

That cocky smile faded, Dameron staring fixedly at your face. He searched each part of it, as if measuring the seriousness of your words, then sat up fully on his legs before standing completely to gaze down at you, chin glistening and damp, not noticing the red welts spattering the inside of your thighs from where his stubble had left its mark.

“Since you said please, and so, so nicely might I add,” he joked, undoing the holster at his waist with lightning speed as he let his Glie-44 blaster pistol fall to the floor at his feet. You sat up on your elbows, enjoying the show, Poe unzipping and unbuckling his pants and belt with such wild, feral vigor, it was as if they were presently on fire.

“Mn, sweetheart, would you hate me if I said I’ve been dreaming of this?” Poe questioned, though you were unable to get a read on if he was being sincere or just full of hot air. You did not answer him, instead reveling in the desperate way the pilot kicked his boots off, witnessing his undressing between your parted legs.

They felt like jelly, still held up by the stirrups. You smiled salaciously, feeling oddly playful as you began to sway your knees back and forth to emulate the fluttering of butterfly wings; you amused yourself by fondling your overstimulated clit for his pleasure and your own, waiting ever so patiently for him to finish.

It only slowed him down; you almost laughed again, this man proving to be predictable as far as men go, spellbound by the fact you were touching yourself, and in front of him, no less.

Poe let out a laborious, rasping breath, as if his throat might be closing in on itself, pearly whites once more finding rose-colored lips as he chewed timidly on a plump bottom rung. At that same moment his pants fell down to his knees, leaving Dameron in his tight white underwear, his package so hard and compact it looked ready to burst free of its cotton prison.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he professed mostly to himself, yet loud enough for you to hear him. He stumbled forward, releasing himself of the pants that still clung to him with every step, wide, warm hands placing themselves upon your knees, one for one.

“Mn, baby, for me?” he asked in a diffident tone, Poe’s cheeks burning hot as he was drawn in by the sexy spectacle before him. After a moment or two of getting lost in his own thoughts, he scrambled for his aching prick; it felt like it was going to erupt any moment now. Already it had leaked droplets of precum, the tip wet and sticky as it sprang loose.

The pilot began to pump himself as he was glued to the rhythmic stroking of your fingers; you teased him by inserting one within yourself, Poe moaning almost instantly as he came up to you all the way by the edge of the bed, gently batting your hand away. He aligned his dick against your slit, eyes laser focused, then he abruptly stopped what he was doing to lift his head and stare at you.

“You sure? What if-” he hesitated, wanting reassurance.

“I’m protected,” you whispered, at once your feet lifting so that you could wind your legs around Poe’s waist like a serpent coiling about its prey. You squeezed lightly, drawing him in, Poe helping on his end by gently nudging the head of his cock against the lubricious entrance to your vagina.

Dameron shook this time, his body tremulous against you as he sank deeper and deeper into your warm center, guiding it slowly, his girth spreading you open as you gasped, arms overtaking him in addition to your legs; you wanted his chest pressed against yours, beckoning the man to lower himself to the proper height so that you might kiss him, fingers once more gathering in his shaggy mane.

“You f-feel, ohhhh… Like, like. Like clouds,” Dameron stammered, commenting on your plush, tepid walls as he finally bottomed out. He was slow to retract his hips, then slow to press them forward again, “It’s like breaking atmo; that euphoric feeling you get when—”

Poe cut himself off, lips compressing against one another to form a concentrated line. He closed his eyes, his pace deathly drawn-out, tortuously so, each stroke of him inside you sending pinpricks of pleasure throughout your nerve-endings, both from without and within.

It was endearing. Not knowing of all the nuances comprising this pilot’s personality, this one surprised you. Poe had always seemed so high-strung, so exuberant; it was a change of pace to see him take his time on something - you.

With a tilt of your neck, your mouth found his, your tongue slithering between his teeth to taste yourself on him. You sighed fervently, pulling him closer by the meat of your thighs, in turn interring him deeper within yourself.

“I won’t break,” you informed him softly, having pulled away to encourage Dameron to rise above his stupor and fuck you like he meant it. Poe gave a slow, deliberate nod of his head in return, as if trying to find his center and a place of calm before he would be able to continue.

“Right,” he finally said, intaking a sharp inhalation of oxygen as he rocked forward, pitching his hips so that they were flush against yours. He dipped back again, repeating these motions in a syncopated rhythm, and you finding it impossible to keep your mouth from hanging open as he hit his stride.

“Just like that,” you cooed silkily, your breath warm and wispy against his ear. This alone sent Poe to a higher plane, somewhere you were sure you could not reach him, causing Dameron to make a helpless, needy sound.

You felt a warm gush; a spurt of something that was unexpected this early in the game. Poe’s face contorted pleasantly into a look of ecstasy. You watched, fascinated, the pilot coming inside you after only a few pumps. Hell, you didn’t even mind; he had given you yours twice over. You felt a kind of privilege bestowed upon you; the knowledge that your pussy must be made of solid gold. That, or he really did like you.

“Oh fuck, ohh no, shit, I-I’m sorry,” Poe stuttered, his tone indicative of embarrassment. You tried to lighten the mood with a joke, dotting tiny kisses along the corner of his mouth in an attempt to quell his mounting anxiety.

“What was that about setting me straight?” you teased, Poe forced to laugh despite himself as he tried to catch his breath. He shook his head, brawny biceps propping him up just above you, jet-black strands dangling down to brush against your nose as he sighed a dejected sigh.

“You’re just so pretty, and I was excited, you know? I- It’s- It’s been a while,” he clumsily explained, “haven’t had the time to actually masturbate, being in the middle of a war and all—”

You cut him off with a kiss, a forceful press of your lips to his. It was your way of shutting him up, aiming to put a stopper in all of his excuses; it did not matter to you.

“Poe, it’s fine,” you affirmed, cradling the antsy man’s refined jaw in the crook of your palm, “these things happen. I’m not upset. You already got me off twice; that’s more than most men for the entirety of a relationship.”

You had exaggerated that last part for a bit of dramatic flair, this particular white lie having no purpose other than to bolster Poe’s self-esteem and to make him feel better. He smiled at you, a genuine, honest-to-God smile, as if coming to terms with the fact he had no need to worry, and that he might just get a second chance one day, contrary to what he had at first believed.

“So, uh—” he started, lifting gently up and off of you; his cock incrementally eased its way out of you, the remnants of his seed thick and sticky as it flowed freely out and onto the exam table.

He scrunched an eye, as if still ashamed, Poe sucking on his bottom lip to alleviate the mental anguish he was suffering before he sheepishly asked you a question, “Now that we’ve gotten to third base, would you care to visit first?”

You propped yourself up on your forearms, quirking a brow as you rose to sit. He assumed correctly, thinking that you did not take his meaning, Poe following up to explain more succinctly. “Dinner, maybe? Or—”

Sirens began to blare, a red alert sounding all throughout the Anodyne. A voice rang out over the internal comm; Dameron and you were quickly put on edge.

“Attention, all personnel: report to stations. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill.”

Your face fell, as did Poe’s. He gazed at you a moment, ignoring the awful clamor in the background as people began to race throughout the halls just beyond the door. It was as if time stood still, and you were unable to break away from Dameron’s dark gaze. The man, who was so amiable and easygoing, now looked browbeaten and worn, knowing that any minute now he would have to find BB-8 and return to his X-wing when he had wanted nothing more than to relax in your company. Wishful thinking, he mused.

You were the first to move, rushing to get up. You found a towel and cleaned yourself up, collecting your clothes from off the floor; somehow, your tunic had remained intact, though you would hold out for a future time when Poe might touch those parts of you, too. It was hard not to want to imagine him with his soft lips puckered about your nipple as his stocky fingers massaged and revered your breasts.

“Attention: all pilots, return to hangar. Repeat: all capable pilots return to your ships.”

“It was just as well, huh?” he asked solemnly, referring to the abrupt end of your impromptu rendezvous.

“Go,” you commanded, Poe’s stare lingering, amber eyes piercing you with a look that was ironically impenetrable; resolute, yet somehow somber, wistful.

He broke away, finally, and with difficulty, scrambling to adjust his briefs before throwing back on his pants and buttoning his shirt. He hitched his holster around his hips, the boots made to go on last. You observed as he hopped around on one foot, once more finding him to be endearing as you turned to rush toward the refresher, steadfast in your desire to use the sonic, if only for a moment; you needed to rinse off before returning to the med bay, as was your duty.

Poe called out to you by name; you whirled to face him. The man’s fluffy eyebrows were stitched together as he could only stare at you again. Then, he seemed to finally come-to, stepping the few paces forward that separated you.

“I’ll comm you later?” he asked more than stated, the backs of his knuckles running the length of your cheek. You could only nod, leaning up to kiss him one last time.

“Come back in one piece, OK? I don’t want to have to stitch you up again; be careful,” you urged him. He smiled that charming, boyish smile that made your heart race, as radiant as ever; his mood could change so suddenly.

“No promises,” he replied, meaning it in jest, yet you knew there was some truth to it.

You parted ways with the best damn pilot in the galaxy, hope being the only thing left to you both now. Hope that he would never have to step foot back aboard this frigate, but that if he did, it would be for some better reason, and not because he had failed to heed your warning.

---

Reblogs / comments appreciated!

Masterlist

Ao3

#Poe Dameron #Poe Dameron x Reader #Poe x Reader #Poe Dameron x You #x reader #Star Wars #Star Wars Smut #sequel trilogy #Resistance #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #star wars fanfiction #angst #fluff #love confessions #female reader #fem reader

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 2 months

Note

Hi! Sorry, I'm new here 😊 congrats on your follower milestone!!

May I please request prompts 17 and 34 with my beloved Sergeant, Hunter? 🥰🥰

Thank you so much! Looking forward to seeing what you come up with 💜

@photogirl894 Hello love,

I know I said I'd probably wouldn't have time today, but turns out I had enough time to write this one out quickly. I hope you like it. I actually quite enjoyed this one.

Love oo,

Too Close

Warnings: Explosions, blaster fire, falling from a height, injuries, blood, shrapnel, medical procedure, angst, fluff, comfort, hurt. I think that's it, if I miss any please let me know.

Italics - Flashback

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Hunter let out a sigh of relief as you both made it on board the Marauder. His eyes flitted over to your face, you were still unconscious, knocked out from the loss of blood, you’d be stirring soon according to Tech, but it wasn’t making his anxiety calm down. He couldn’t help wondering if there was something he could’ve done differently.

The fog from the explosions, dust and debris was getting beyond bearable, you couldn’t stop coughing as you hid behind the cargo crate. Your helmet had been shattered when you smashed it against the ground when your rappelling cable broke. Thankfully it was only when you were eight feet from the ground, but it could’ve been much worse than a broken helmet.

Of course, it didn’t help that you were stuck hiding behind the crate with Hunter, because a piece of shrapnel embedded itself in your thigh, and was doing little to hamper the loss of blood. They always tell you to leave the shrapnel in, until you saw a medic, but at this point, you’d be lucky to just see the next twenty minutes.

You pushed down hard on the wound, Hunter’s bandana doing little to help as he tried to wrap it around your thigh.

“Hunter, leave me” you shouted over the explosions and blaster fire. These Separatist droids weren’t backing down.

“Stop talking, it’ll make you pass out faster.”

“Hunter please!” You grabbed the lip of his chest plate and got him to look at you, “I can’t see you dying. So please, go!”

“I’m not dying and neither are you so stop distracting me and press on the wound!” His hand engulfed your thigh pressing down hard, stopping the trickle of blood that had pooled under your thigh.

Before you could speak another rain of debris showered over you, Hunter pulled you under him as he shielded you with his torso. “Please… I can’t … I can’t see you get hurt because of me.” You pleaded to the man who held your heart and soul, your eyes welled up with tears as you looked at him, “Please, Hunt …”

His eyes widened, it was a nickname you reserved for him only during your quiet time together, only in the privacy of your quarters did you ever call him Hunt. You must have been in a really bad shape if his nickname slipped through your lips.

“No! Listen, I don't care what happens to me. I'm not leaving you." He pressed his helmeted forehead against yours, as his now bloodied glove caressed your cheek, “I won’t. Now stay alive and stay awake. That’s all you have to do, Tech will get us out of here. So DON’T DIE ON ME! THAT’S AN ORDER SOLDIER!”

You chuckled at his demeanour, loving him all the more, “Yes, sir!” You saluted.

He chuckled and focused back on the droids in front of him. He sent another ping to Tech, time was running out, he needed to get you to a medical facility soon.

His eyes glanced back over to you, you were starting to stir. Your eyes fluttered open, as they looked around the Marauder for him, he gripped your hand, “Easy, easy. You’re safe.” His soft tone calmed you down.

You squeezed his hand, as you looked him over, “Injuries?”

Hunter closed his eyes and shook his head, “I’m fine. Tech stopped the bleeding on your thigh and removed the shrapnel. We’re heading to a medical frigate now, you’ll be as good as new in a few days.” His hand reached up as the back of his fingers caressed your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into his hand.

“You didn’t leave.”

“I couldn’t.”

“But you could’ve been…”

“If you die, I’ll die right beside you. I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

You looked at him with a loving smile, and full of adoration in your eyes.

“What?” He chuckled.

You shook your head, as you looked at him smiling softly, “I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me.” You pressed a kiss to his fingers, “And that I love you.”

“I love you. But don’t ever do that to me again.” Tears welled up in his eyes, “I thought I was going to lose you out there…” his tone shifted as his breathing trembled, “I can’t lose you cyar’ika. I … I can’t …”

“Shhh, come here” You motioned for him to rest his head on your shoulder, as you hugged him close. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been injured but it certainly had been the closest you’ve ever been to shaking hands with death. You both held each other close, reminding each other you were still there.

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kyber-kisses · 1 year

Text

Into Your Arms (Part.2)

Captain Rex x Jedi!reader

Summary: after seeing you injured on the battlefield, Rex realizes how much you mean to him and does everything he can to keep you alive.

Warnings: descriptions of injuries, death, violence. Rex gets really fucking scared.

A/N: sorry for the delay babes! Here’s part 2 and please tell me what you thought!

“I told you not to remove that damn thing!”

“We couldn’t move her with that piece in her! The medical frigate is still two minutes out and she wouldn’t have fit otherwise-“ Kia spoke quickly, clearly out of breath as he dug violently through his med bag looking for what he needed. “Plus the bacta patch wouldn’t have done any good if that thing was still in her—- apply more pressure!”

“I’m trying!” Despite trying to keep his emotions locked down, Rexs voice cracked ever so slightly as he spoke.

It felt like nothing was helping. You were slipping through his fingers fast.

In the brilliance of the raging grass fires around him the blood left your artery in violent jets of red. The heart that could keep you in a full sprint for twenty miles was most efficient at emptying your body of fluid. Your own hand lay limp by your side, your skin no longer its usual color but grey, fingers sticky with congealing blood. You had slipped out of the conscious world seconds before Kix arrived, and with each passing moment Rex knew they were losing you further.

“Alright, pull your hands back.” The clone medic rushed, the device in his hand buzzing violently as he turned it on.

“Kix-“

“Cap, I know what I’m doing, now move your hands and hold her shoulders down.”

With his new orders, Rex follows his medics command, watching in a silent terror as Kix quickly cut away the fabric of your robes, exposing the gaping wound beneath them.

The second the laxer cauterizor made contact with your flesh your unconscious body jolted violently beneath the captains hands, a blood curdling scream leaving your lips as you did. Both actions caused Rex to fall back slightly before rushing back to push you down once more.

“Hold her still!”

“I’m trying!”

Your body continued to fight back against the pain as Kix did what he could to stitch you back together enough for transport.

And with each moment Rex grew more terrified.

His commander, his friend, his—

You were slipping from his grasp before he could say or do anything.

“Medical frigate incoming!”

Both clones momentarily took their eyes away from your body, watching as a short but speedy ship moved swiftly across the battlefield—

And then things began moving fast.

Handfuls of other medical officers and droids swarmed around you and within moments you were on a gurney and being pushed onto the frigate.

And then Rex was following, Kix close on his heels as they boarded after you. He knew that the action would cause an uproar, he wasn’t supposed to leave the field unless ordered. . . But in truth it was the last thing on his mind.

The second the frigate had returned to the Resolute you were once more rushed off, and Rex stuck with you for as long as he could- pestering the medics along the way as he asked about your condition.

“Is she going to be ok?”

“It uncertain captain-“

“What’s going to happen to her?”

“Not sure-“

“At least tell me—“

“Captain!. . .”

“Please make sure she’s-“

“Kriff Rex, stop!” A steady hand clamped down on Rexs shoulder, pulling him to a stop as you were wheeled further down the hallway and beyond his reach, for a moment Rex pushed against the hold, but stopped when he heard Kix lower his voice. “Rex, you need to calm down.”

Calm down? Calm down?! How could Rex calm down? You had a gaping hole in your abdomen and not a single medic had given him a clear answer as to what they were going to do about it.

“Where are they taking her?” The clown captain swallowed, looking back down the hallway in which you had disappeared with your army of medics.

“Surgery. They’ll do a better job at stitching her up that what I did back int he field.” Kix spoke calmly, observing his captain with a slightly curious gaze as he did. “You’ve seen hundreds of people get hurt and go through this, but I’ve never seen you. . . Like this.”

Eyes still trained on the empty hallway, the muscle in Rexs jaw pulsed, “like what?”

“Scared.”

Rex was silent for a moment. “One of our commanders is on the brink of death, someone we all look up to and trust and admire. Forgive me trooper if I’m a bit on edge.”

In truth Rex couldn’t admit out loud that he was scared. He’d lost people before. . . Kriff it was daily. But with each loss he held his head up high and kept moving. . . He couldn’t let his men see that he had finally been brought to his knees, and now felt true fear.

Whatever silence lay between the captain and the medic was broken when his comm beeped and a second later the holographic image of General Skywalker was hovering above his wrist, the Jedi dodging a blaster bolt as he spoke to his captain.

“Rex! Where are you?! Someone reported to me that you left the field!”

“Forgive me General I-“

“Tell me later, I need you down here now!”

Swallowing thickly, Rex brought his eyes once more to the vacant hallway. Kriff, the last thing he wanted was to go back down there.

“Yes Sir, I’m on my way.”

“Good-“ and with that the comm cut out and drowned the hallway in silence once more.

It took a moment but eventually Rex inhaled deeply, straightening his posture as he returned his helmet to his head. Before he could rush down the hallway though he was spooning to look at his medic, his hands still sticky with your blood as he gripped Kixs shoulders.

“Keep her alive.”

“Yes sir.”

And with that the Captain nodded and took off in a sprint back towards the hangar, his heart in the cradles of his boots as he did.

———————-

The fighting didn’t stop until morning and By the time the separatist forces were falling back the first rays of the cresting sun were beginning to crawl over the horizon, lighting up the mangled landscape as they did.

The fires had died out, leaving large scars across the land as they still smoldered. Everything was covered in a fine layer of ash, including Rex as he stepped tiredly onto the last departing gunship besides General Skywalker and Commander Tano, his bucket tucked weakly under his arm as he did.

Everything in the captain wanted to sink down to the floor but Rex held firm, though a tremor had started in his right hand and had yet to stop. Wether it was from exhaustion or fear he didn’t know.

Maybe both.

His body was on the brink of collapse and the need for sleep weighed heavy on his shoulders- but the fear he felt think about you kept him awake.

He had no clue what awaited them on the Resolute. Either you were alive or you-

“Rex? You ok buddy?” Anakins voice broke the silence in the gunship, the General looking at his captain with a concerned expression.

“Of course he’s not. None of us are. While we’ve been down there our friends been teetering on the brink of death.” Ahsoka was quick to speak, her concern for Rex clear on her features.

For both the Jedi Rex seemed anything but himself. His eyes focused on the ashy floor of the gunship, his free hand gripping the hand hold tightly. His gloves were still gone, skin still stained with your dried blood.

In an attempt to bring some comfort to the captain, Ahsoka placed a careful and reassuring hand or Rex’s shoulder, but the clone made no move to acknowledge it- nor did he notice the gunship landing in the medbay and the door sliding open.

It was like he was caught in his own mind, like a fly stuck in a web. With everything thought it only brought him back to the battlefield and the feeling of your body weakening underneath his palms.

This was his fault. If he had just paid more attention- if he had just seen those tanks coming he couldn’t have gotten out of the way. You should have never had the need to save him. He was a good soldier. He was better than this.

Or maybe he wasn’t.

His duty was to protect the Republic and his Jedi. . . And it would seem he had done a poor job at the latter part.

“Hey, c’mon. The med-bay said they need us.” Anakins voice was reassuring as he slowly pulled Rex from his stupor, silently ushering off his padawan to parts unknown.

“Forgive me General, I-“ straightening his posture, Rex raised his head, doing whatever he could to look and act like the captain he was supposed to be. “I am not my full self.”

“Hey, no problem. We’ve been through a lot and we are all tired. No need for apologize Rex.”

As the two slowly stepped from the gunship and into the hangar, the Jedi watched his clone captain carefully. He could practically feel the worry coming off of Rex in waves. Maybe it was his connection to the force, or his connection to the clone in general but he knew how much Rex cared for you, how much you meant to him.

The journey to the medical wing was a silent one and as they rode the lift up several floors, Anakin couldn’t help but cast his friend a worried glance.

Rexs bloodied hands were twisted tightly together in front of him, the captain of the 501st wringing his hands as the tiny numbers counted up to the medical wing floor.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Rex. We have some of the best medical droids and medics here that the Republic can offer, she’s probably waiting for us right—“

Anakins words fell silent as the lift door slid open, the blinding white lights and the sterile odor of the medical wing slamming into them both as they did.

If Rexs heart was already in his stomach, now it was in the soles of his boots.

Waiting for them with a grim expression on his features was Kix, his gloved hands folded neatly behind his back as he greeted both his captain and general.

Feeling the tremor in his hands worsen, Rex squeezed his fists tightly, nails digging into skin to create little crescents. All he could hear was his own heartbeat drumming in his ears and the fast rapid breaths that had begun to make him lightheaded and dizzy.

Force this was it. This was when it was confirmed he failed and that you were-

“She’s alive.”

And just like that it felt as if a massive boulder had been lifted off of him. A deep sigh left Rexs lungs as he felt the muscles in his body relax ever so slightly.

Turning slightly, the clone medic beckoned for them to follow with a nod of his head and it took everything in Rex to not sprint down the hallway.

“And she’s stable, at least right now. He injuries were far more extensive that we thought. Apart from the injury to her abdomen she also has a rather nasty concussion, a small brain bleed, several broken bones and a sprained wrist. She’s lucky to be alive.”

Rexs silence was finally broken a moment later, the blonde clone struggling to get his words out as they walked. “Is she awake?”

Whatever tiny bit of relief Rex had was snuffed out when Kix stopped them before a set of doors, the medic giving both him and Anakin a worried look.

This time it was Anakin who spoke. “Kix?”

Instead of wording his answer, the medic punched in the code for one of the medical rooms, and as it slid open the strong smell of bacta came with it, it’s strong medicinal scent making Rex wrinkle his nose slightly.

The room was mostly vacant apart from a few medical droids, and the lights had been turned down to their lowest setting, allowing for the blue of hyperspace to bring a sort of glow to the room.

But it was none of those things that made Rexs blood run cold. No, that was reserved to the large bacta tank on the far side of the room and what was within it.

Rexs feet were moving before his brain was and before he knew it he had crossed the dimly lit med-bay, the hazy bluish green light of the bacta tank reflecting ever so slightly off the polished floors.

He knew it was you, there was no doubt about that. . . But it was all wrong.

You had been stripped down to nothing but your black under tank and shorts, heavy bandages snaking around your abdomen. Though suspended in the medicinal waters your body had ever so slight curled in on itself, reminding Rex of how the clone fetuses looked in their tubes back on Kamino. Your normally bright eyes were closed and an oxygen mask had been strapped to your mouth and nose, along with a countless amount of tubes and other wires that had been connected to numerous parts of you.

It was you. . . But it wasn’t.

The you he knew was bright and full of life and energy. The commander he knew cracked jokes and smiled despite the war torn galaxy they lived in.

You brought light and a sense of ease to all those who encountered you.

So no, this wasn’t you. Not the one he knew. Not the one he needed.

“Is she going to be alright?”

“It’s uncertain. She crashed a couple times on us but we were finally able to get her stable. She’s gonna need several rotations in the tank before we can take her out a get her healing in her own.” Kix explained, passing by Rex as he began working on one of the control panels for the tank, no doubt checking your vitals.

Somewhere behind him, Anakin pulled Kix to the side, the two talking in hushed tones as Rex stayed fixated on you.

The tremor in his hand only stopped when he planted it to the cool glass, the dried blood on his fingers having turned an ugly rust brown.

“You are not allowed to die, do you hear me? That’s an order.”

Trooper Taglist: @chubbyhedgehog @jordyn2424 @jamesdeerest @isybellaxox @book-of-baba-fett @idoubleswearimawriter @starrylothcat @stevesstevesstuff

#the bad batch #star wars #captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #the clone wars x reader #the clone wars #Chevy writes stuff #Star Wars fic

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authortobenamedlater · 23 days

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@rainintheevening @threshergm @ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask @thearbiterthel @stitchlingbelle You asked.

(This is rough and subject to change without notice)

—

“Don’t talk.”

Tom looked quizzically at the Master Chief’s visor.

“Don’t talk to each other about what you saw,” the Chief elaborated tersely, still aiming his rifle out the Pelican’s open bay. “You’ll need to get debriefed once we get to the ship.”

“What ship?” April asked.

“Yeah, where are we going?” Sully added.

“UNSC Mercy Seat. Medical frigate,” the Chief answered.

Tom glanced at Chyler. She was silent and unmoving against his shoulder. She hadn’t said a word since boarding the Pelican.

She’s not OK.

“Chyler.” Tom nudged her. “Look.”

Chyler blinked slowly. “At what?”

“The sunrise. Just look at it.”

Chyler stared out the open hatch. “Why?”

“Because someone should.” Tom took in the golden glow over the snowcapped mountains. “Someone should remember it. And we’re the only ones left who can.”

—

There is of course more to this story. I’ll see how long I want to make it.

#halo #john 117 #master chief #Thomas lasky #chyler silva #married with a supercarrier au #halo fanfic by atbnl #fanfic by atbnl #halo 4 forward unto dawn

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hemipenal-system · 5 months

Note

Ok so that one post with the room sized computer girls sent a spark in my brain. There would be a team of like scavengers that stumble across a derelict frigate of some sort and break in. They would slowly be separated and lose comms with each other, all while enshrouded by the feeling of being watched. The scavengers could follow a trail of dripped blood (bc what could go wrong :3) and she finds the AI processing room. Inside there would be a slumped body looking at you with crimson eyes. She would have wires and cables all connected from her directly into the computers; but it wouldn't be clean it would look crude and rushed and not surgical at all.

And then she would beckon her with a finger to come and join her in a tangle of copper and flesh.

Fuck there's something so hot about melding your sentience with another being, understanding them so much more than even a lover could. Give me robot girls that want to assimilate me

oh, yeah, this is immaculate. for best results you should listen to this while reading this one

walking down the hall, slipping past rusty, overgrown paneling and stepping over shattered floor tiles, forcing the door at the end open with a crowbar, and everything is running. reel tapes spin, relays click and clatter, lights flicker at you in a symphony of ancient machines doing their best to process everything

and in the middle of the room there's a medical chair with someone slumped in it. the back of her neck is torn open, the skin giving way to metal ports installed with immaculate precision but no respect for the vessel's previous form, and connected into the machines by a bundle of cabling as thick as your arm that runs along the floor off into the seemingly infinite darkness

and the computers speed up as she raises her head to look at you, and when she opens her mouth to talk to you her voice comes from the speakers mounted above the door because they had to remove her vocal cords when they fixed her. they were in the way. just a routine operation.

and her body clicks as she crosses the room towards you, skin taut over industrial joints, voice crackling as she tells you that you're more than safe – you're blessed, because she'll rebuild you too!

as she kisses you, the mechanical tendrils latch around your arms and legs, spreading them wide, sharp blades tearing your clothes away, leaving your skin exposed, so pink and warm. she remembers when she was warm like you are.

you're so preoccupied with her kissing down your body and resting her clammy fingers against your thigh, looking up at you with the glinting dark camera lenses that replaced her eyes and whining with her mouth full because she's so happy to not be lonely anymore, you barely even feel it when the circular saw slices the back of your neck open and the tiny surgical arms weave wires into your brain stem.

when you spray down her throat, the computer records your brain waves onto a tape. you can experience this again whenever you like now, at whatever speed you want. hell, you can just do it again. you'll be with her forever, or at least until your relays burn out and your cabling begins to fray.

#terato #terato blog #nsft #fantasy nsft #robot nsft #robotization #robotification #robot girl #ebotica #transformation sort of #minor gore mention but like super minor #answering asks #terato asks

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niqhtlord01 · 7 months

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Humans are weird: The Price of History

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps) “Am I to believe this is your final draft?”

Earl Von Morgan watched the collected gathering of military leaders and diplomats nod their heads one by one. It was the response he had expected, but one he had hoped would prove him wrong.

He pinched his brow and stifled a yawn. It’d been six months since he had been released from the hospital and yet still he felt like he was playing catch up with his own body. The doctors had given him medication to ease the pain, but he had abstained from taking it after he learned the dulling effects it laid upon his sharp mind. Worst still his body would spasm every hour or so as if he was reliving the plunge out the window with a would-be assassin and plummeting several stories.

Then there was the matter of his own junior ambassador keeping him in a medically induced coma while they sought to take over his position with the assistance of a mega corporation. A mega corporation that had been intent on the continued enslavement of AI programs which had been increasingly showing elevated signs of intelligence and self-awareness. One of which had hacked into the hospital Morgan was being housed in and deactivated the medical equipment long enough to awake from the coma and regain his position as lead ambassador.

As if he had not had enough to deal with he then learned that the Cosmic Federation had become embroiled in an ongoing war with the Tunks Republic. The Tunks claimed that CF colonists violated their territory and settle on a world in the Da’brin cluster while the Cosmic Federation argued that the Da’brin cluster had never held any stakes of claim prior to the colonist’s intervention.

Within a matter of days a Tunks fleet was dispatched to remove the colonists and likewise a CF fleet was sent to ensure the colonists safety. The two fleets met, tempers flared, and someone did something incredibly stupid and fired the first shot of an increasingly bloody conflict.

Morgan had been called forward to represent humanity’s contributions to the war effort. There were far more experienced human generals and admirals that could have filled the position, but Morgan’s fame had gotten the better of him as the other alien leaders only felt comfortable around Morgan.

He had only just arrived to his first meeting when the collective body gave him the terms of surrender for the Tunks.

Morgan pulled out his spectacles and read aloud the terms.

“1. The Tunks will relinquish all claims to the Da’brin cluster; including all worlds, moons, planetoid bodies, asteroid fields, stars, and other celestial bodies found within its borders.

2. The Tunks will reduce their standing military by 2/3 and be forbidden from maintaining any warship larger than frigate class.

3. The Tunks will hand over the worlds of Sinvel and No’grash to the Cosmic Federation.

4. The Tunks will repay the Cosmic Federation in reparations equal to ten trillion credits, to be obtained by financial wealth or industrial capacity transfers.

5. The Tunks will surrender all trade agreements and monopolies to Cosmic Federation members.”

Morgan tossed the data pad holding the terms of surrender aside without further reading it. It clattered to the floor and cracked as the gathered delegates looked up in surprise.

“Were the terms not to your agreement?” a Quntus asked. Their translator unit switched between female and male tones as it was unable to compensate for the changing biological nature of the alien. This gave it the sound of two voices speaking over each other and gave Morgan a seething headache.

“You must know that the Tunks will never agree to this.” Morgan said flatly. “They are a proud people and you are stripping them of everything; from their financial wealth to their dignity.”

“Come now, be fair.” A Tryobien spoke up. “It is hardly as severe as it could be.”

“Oh?”

Morgan leaned forward and rested his arms on the table as he fixed the Tryobien with a glare that had made Draxic generals blink.

“Do you know the significance of Sinvel and No’grash?” Morgan asked, to which the Tryobien nodded.

“They hold key strategic locations along the border regions of-“

Morgan coughed into his hand and shook his head. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a cigar and lit it, taking a deep breath to calm his throat from bile he nearly vomited.

“Sinvel is the location their religious founder was born on and No’grash was where he gathered her first followers to spread the word of the Seven Eyed Sun.”

The delegates looked mildly confused at the history lesson, none more so than the Tryobien who disliked being interrupted.

“Their religious matters were not taken into account-“

“Well they should have been.”

Morgan’s voice was stern and carried a tone that offered no challengers. “You would deprive the two most holy locations to an entire species religious system and you think there would be no repercussions?”

He took another deep inhale from his cigar and let the burnt tip fall lazily to the elaborately decorated table. “Do you have any idea the religious fervor you would be stirring up? The hatred you would be embedding in their hearts?”

“Tunks have no heart organs.” The Quntus corrected. “Their circulation system is driven by the shifting muscles of their body.”

Morgan looked at the alien delegate who realized the question had been rhetorical and retreated into their seat.

“The point being,” Morgan continued, “is that you would be giving them a cause to rally behind; and a strong one at that.”

“When they abide to the rest of the terms the Tunks will be in no place to offer any such resistance and we shall have peace once more.” The Tryobien countered.

Morgan gave no reply to this. He took several small puffs from his cigar as he looked around the gathered delegation. He had the look of a man deep in thought, wondering if it was worth to speak his mind and risk his career and reputation. Finally, having made up his mind, he took one final puff of his cigar and dabbed the remains into the table.

“On my world a similar treaty was made after a great and terrible war.” Morgan began. “Like you, the victors thought that such harsh terms were warranted and would cripple any further escalation of conflict in the future.”

The Tryobien smiled at this, thinking that Morgan was now in favor of the treaty.

“In reality they were only setting the stage to an even greater conflict that would spread to every corner of our world.” Morgan continued as the smile fled from the Tryobien’s face.

Morgan rose from his chair and began to walk the room, leaning heavily on his cane as he passed each delegate and military commander assembled.

“This treaty, much like the one that was signed against those defeated human so many centuries ago, will only lay the groundwork for a never ending cycle of war and retaliation.” Morgan finished as he casually kicked the data pad he had read from earlier.

“You are afraid of the Tunks?” an alien general asked, garnering a round of chuckling from several others in the room.

“I am worried of having to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life.” Morgan countered. “I am worried that a day may come when we are distracted and the Tunks see their chance for vengeance.”

He leaned down to the military leader who had mocked him just then and looked him dead in the eye.

“What do you think would happen if three thousand Tunk warriors suddenly appeared on your homeworld while your military was fighting on the other side of the galaxy?”

The alien general opened their mouth to speak but stopped themselves. Their pause was the only assurance that Morgan needed to know his point had gotten across.

“How hypocritical of you to speak of peace,” the Tryobien spoke in a last bit gambit, “when your people have made such treaties as this one before us throughout your people’s history.”

“A mistake we have learned from with blood and fire, dear delegate.” Morgan replied coldly. He turned to address the rest of the gathering once more.

“The purpose of any peace treaty is to not just end conflict, but to prevent conflicts of the future.”

As he walked back to his seat Morgan withdrew another cigar and lit it, savoring the flavor as he sat down and looked around the room.

“I believe we can do better than the treaty I was handed earlier.” He began as he saw many of the delegates giving him nods of approval. “We must do better.”

#humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #earl von morgan #diplomacy #space diplomacy

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lovenpeace-pkmn · 2 months

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Alright. Notes so far:

P1 Lab is in the castle. Probably untouched and I know there is medical equipment, but also. No

P2 is outside Nuvema. Rood says it is likely untouched due to being inaccessible by foot or land vehicle, but Snuffles knows the way. Good option. Home to the Genesect project.

C thinks she knows where P3 is in Nimbasa, but given the neighborhood, if it hasn't been claimed by a splinter sect it is likely too trashed to use. Legends research.

P4 is in Mistralton, but it is known to be in use by Neos within the last three years. Probably more shipbuilding equipment than medical anyway. Frigate.

Theoretically there is a P5. If nothing else works out, we'll ask Bronius if he knows anything.

P6 is in Black City. It may be a good option, if we do not get lost and end up in White Forest by accident again, ha. Neither Connie nor Rood know what it was used for.

#anthea post #pkmn irl #pokeblogging #pokemon irl #pokeblog rp #plasma talk #plasma urbex redux arc #anthea don't look

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walkawaytall · 3 months

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It baffles me when people assert that Leia must always wear white because of some Alderaanian/monarchical/purity thing because these are the scenarios in which we see her wear white in the movies:

Her Senatorial robes in A New Hope, and since we’ve never seen the dang Imperial Senate congregated, we don’t know that everyone wasn’t dressed like that

A ceremonial dress in A New Hope that we don’t even know belongs to her. Logically, it shouldn’t. Logically, all of her stuff was either taken by the Empire when they commandeered the ship she was on or exploded by the Death Star or I guess maybe in her apartment on Coruscant and somehow retrieved. (The latter is what I went with for Purpose of Heritage and I still think it’s a stretch.)

Her Echo Base uniform in The Empire Strikes Back which is literally just camouflage??? Everyone else is also wearing white and beige except Han for reasons only he knows. They’re on a snow-covered planet. Why wouldn’t she wear white?

Whatever she’s wearing on the medical frigate at the end of The Empire Strikes Back, which I’m pretty sure is just her Senatorial robes again??? The woman had her entire life exploded and only owns like three outfits, this is apparently one of them, and she is making good use of what she owns, okay?

That’s literally it. Granted, I do understand that’s a large percentage of her outfits in the original trilogy, but also, everything else she wears has almost no white it aside from the embroidered top layer on her Bespin outfit, which is clothing that is presumably not hers since she ends up back in the Hoth jumpsuit hours later.

I’m just saying the movie evidence is slim, that’s all. And it is wild to me that I once saw a post in which someone assumed Leia’s favorite color was white??? Why???

#I will say I have no idea if this was addressed in Legends EU #star wars #leia organa #a new hope #the empire strikes back #star wars meta

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transmorphobots · 9 months

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Incident report of emergency response to Civilian Asteroid "Safe Harbor"

New Cybertronia Emergency Response Corps. 103rd Regiment. Commander of the Autobot Response Frigate “MarbleOak”, Exposure.

Enclosed is my official report regarding the civilian asteroid "Safe Harbor". Said asteroid was gravity-moored within Sector x33-y45 and had a capacity to sustain at least 45 sparks. The most notable thing within the region's file is that the scientific organization "Heart of Cybertron'' was present with a large facility there. Most of the sparks present were seemingly employed by "Heart of Cybertron" organization and it maintained a spaceport much larger than an asteroid of that size would normally be equipped to handle. After our rescue attempt I did search our records and it did have proper permits, however, I recommend these be reviewed due to the following events.

[ CW: ROBOGORE/BODY HORROR]

We received an all channel, priority response distress signal at around 0720 joors and were able to arrive within 83 kliks. The asteroid can no longer sustain civilians due to what appeared, at first, to be a catastrophic explosion from the "Heart of Cybertron" facility. No fire or lingering explosions but it had caused damage to the asteroid's structure and it was drifting apart. Using the ship's towing equipment we were able to stop the asteroid from drifting further apart. I sent two engineering teams to the gravity moors to see if they could be repaired and I asked the on board team to review permits and transportation logs to possibly narrow down the radiation type we could be exposed to.

Due to the massive damage I split the recovery teams between the asteroid pieces and despite protocol dictating otherwise, I was the only member of the recovery team to start searching the facility. My reasoning was that I was unsure how many sparks actually survived the destruction of the facility as only partial walls were left standing. I entered with proper safety equipment as directed by Data Analyst, Jump Drive. Attached to my report will be a recording of my communications with the team and Jump Drive as I explored the facility.

At the threshold of a hole in the exterior wall I was able to see the full extent of the explosion's damage. From what I could observe it seemed like the explosion was hotter than any sort of incendiary device I could recall in training or my own experience. I believe it may have been in the range of several thousand degrees but I also observed that the area cooled off almost instantaneously due to the warping and severe cracking of the asteroid. I had been within the building for nearly 18 kliks without finding any sign of life, there was only disaster.

Impossible was the only word running through my processor. Impossible. Impossible.

I circled the rim of what I assume must have been the center of the explosion. I was able to find a survivor that was clinging to a door. They had no lower body and most of their features were torn away. A chassis was left with minimal wiring and nearly no internal components except for the spark chamber and brain module. They had a spark reading and the brain module registered activity on my equipment. I am unsure how they survived and we are still running simulations based on the evidence. I asked for assistance from the team, quick response medic, Engine Light, was diverted to my location shortly after.

Engine Light arrived within 10 kliks and helped me put what was left of the survivor within a transport capsule. We had to sever both arms due to them being fused into metal. The left hand had melted into the door which was slightly ajar. Seemingly they were trying to force the door open. I will note that it seemed like the door was locked. We are studying the material to see how it survived the initial heat but we have found similar alloys in the survivor. The right arm had to be severed as it was fused into the arm of another employee. The employee had sunk into the floor when it melted. We could not recover the other. No sign of activity. Engine Light exited with the transport capsule to signal the transport drone for a pick up. I waited for Engine Light to return, which took less than 5 kliks, before I continued into the facility.

Engine Light had to anchor me so I could proceed further. The facility had sunk inwards; it triggered a memory recall in me of carnival games I had seen once in my foundational experiences. A heated ball bearing dropped into a column of material, you would place bets on how far it would drop. The facility looked like that, sunken in and melted, but there was no ball bearing to be found.

More employees were fused into the flooring due to the intense heat. I could not find a way to recover them as what was them and what was part of the building could not be separated.

I had to use them to descend further into the facility due to the loss of gravity. I will include the visual documentation taken from my recording equipment but I do not advise looking at them. I feel haunted by the warping of form and architecture and equipment. All of it had melted together, dripping towards what was the center of the facility.

I had to use their hands.

Jump Drive sent me a blueprint of the facility that was given to the Autobot Transport and Building Regulation Department of this sector and I immediately noted that, even in the destroyed state the facility was in, there were discrepancies. Specifically as I climbed down I was able to see tunnels that were built into the asteroid's core and would have been hidden if not for the walls hiding them having melted. This was all I could see of them but our ship's computer core, Guardia, was able to map out what was left of the secret tunnels, which showed more labs deep within the asteroid's core.

There were no survivors in these labs. It took several joors to break through the melted metal and reach them, but my team found nothing but equipment in various conditions. We are still digging through all the data. I do not know why no one was there, I see only bodies that mark the rim of the explosion. My current hypothesis is that they were gathered around whatever the source was.

I could not find any sign of a device that would have caused the explosion and cannot make out what the source could have been. Judging by the blueprints there was supposed to be a rotational device at the bottom of the facility but the explosion and whatever followed after had destroyed it.

After my investigation into the facility I returned to Engine Light and we both met with the rescue teams in order to assist survivors and regroup for the next batch of operations. Those reports and strategy advice will be attached to this file.

Most of the unaffiliated civilians survived with only minor injuries. One major injury was due to the proximity to the building when it exploded and the patient received burns severe enough they will need a partial frame and internal replacement. The energon boiled inside of them and caused corrosive damage. It seems they were trespassing across the facility's land in order to 'reach home faster' which was on the other side of the asteroid. Most civilian buildings were kept several miles from the facility's border, which was marked with a fence that is no longer standing. The fence was a mile away from the facility's exterior wall.

Civilians report that they used a particular type of holographic generator in order to obscure the building from view. A very novel type of privacy technology that anyone can use for their homes or facilities that roused no suspicion until the explosion. A total count of survivors is 13, only one employee.

After our rescue operations which took two orns to complete I did research into the "Heart of Cybertron" organization. Starmass, the head of the project and organization, was studying energy conversion technology. There are several accolades for his work, and just as many criticisms due to Starmass' philosophical views. Bold enough to claim the position of Prime and start a new, "universal" philosophy which proposed that ideas can become energy and matter. I did not read very far into Starmass' personal beliefs but it came across as all advertising talk and half-promises of this new technology. All reports list Starmass as being at the facility but I have not seen nor recovered a body.

The survivor I found is reported to be a Transport Security Officer designated Vigilance. Included is the transcript from an interview with a survivor who identified himself as A-33, who had connections with Vigilance and was the one to put in the distress call. Post-Disaster Analyst, Viewpoint, conducted the interview.

Viewpoint: Hello, I'm a post-disaster analyst. I'm conducting this interview to get an idea of what happened on Safe Harbor from your perspective and to see what we can put together of the event. You can call me Viewpoint.

A-33: I am somewhat familiar with the protocol. Where do you want me to start?

Viewpoint: Your designation and tell me what you were doing before the disaster took place?

A-33: I am referred to as A-33. The only notable event before the disaster I can think of was that Vigilance, a Transport Security Officer for the port, had told me that Starmass had finally completed a massive project and was going to perform a demonstration later in the day.

Viewpoint: Do you know when this demonstration was going to take place?

A-33: I assume a little bit before the explosion happened.

Viewpoint: Did Vigilance tell you any details of what this project was.

A-33 fidgets with his hands for an astro-second before continuing.

A-33: I was perhaps the most aware of what the Energy Conversion project was outside of the Heart of Cybertron laboratories.

A-33 falls silent for a few kliks while Viewpoint takes notes. A-33 looks at the notes before looking away, and fidgeting with his hands again. A seeming self-soothing motion of rubbing between the thumb and pointer.

A-33: Vigilance helped with securing goods on the port and preventing theft, specifically, of Heart of Cybertron's materials and equipment. However, he always found time to secure my deliveries. I maintain.... maintained a small parts and repair shop and he learned my routine in order to have my things ready when I came to pick them up. We were friends.

A-33 pauses again for several kliks, self-soothing, but his engine was making a few hiccups and chirps as he struggled to maintain control of his composure. Viewpoint does not make a move to comfort him but waits for him to continue. A-33 exhales and straightens his posture before his voice returns to a professional tone.

A-33: He would often tell me of small projects that Starmass was working on. He talked about Starmass like he was the center of the universe. He clearly admired him and the time Starmass would take out of his day to discuss philosophy and science. They were speaking about things I had long given up trying to understand like theoretical physics and energy engineering. From what Vigilance understood and would explain to me, is that Starmass was experimenting with Ergospheres. Fascinated by their ability to output more energy than what goes in. It had something to do with rotation- I'm more about chemistry and batteries. I don't understand black holes.

Viewpoint: It sounds very.... delicate.

A-33: That is a very kind way to say that Starmass was playing with live wires and didn't expect to blow a generator.

Viewpoint: So the demonstration in question was related to black holes?

A-33 pauses for several kliks again. Not as emotional as the previous pause but gripping his own hand intensely, shaking slightly, and holding an expression of repressed anger or distress.

A-33: I have seen bombs. I have seen nuclear, I have seen protonic, I have seen what fusion energy looks like when it explodes. I remember the taste of it in the air, how it warps your paint. This wasn't like that. At around 0684 joors I was unloading my delivery at my shop when the privacy hologram at the facility went down. They had suffered a loss of power judging by how it fizzled out. There was this... rumbling following soon after. The whole asteroid felt like it was... it was purring almost... and I saw that a light turned all the windows of that building into beacons and then it happened. It was like a miniature star. It burst out of the walls, flares reaching out like tentacles and lashing at the area around the facility. The clocktower was caught within one flare and burst into flames as it melted. My paneling started to boil from the heat. Then, just as fast as it started expanding out, almost eating the entire building, it collapsed in on itself. The yawning darkness tore parts of the facility before it sank into the asteroid. I could feel it feeding on the rock below my feet. The ground churned and the power went out, then, the gravity went out. I managed to hold onto a nearby emergency railing. I think it stopped soon after. Around 0698 joors.. My shop was across from the emergency station and I was able to help our marshal send out the alert. I assisted the marshal in trying to find survivors... most everyone was unharmed... I performed minor repair work.

Viewpoint: In zero gravity?

A-33: In zero gravity.

Viewpoint: Did you attempt to approach the facility?

A-33 falls silent for 3 astro-seconds before he continues.

A-33: I did.

Viewpoint: What did you see?

A-33: The floor was still red hot. There was no screaming. There was no sign of life. I could not get very close but I did notice what was left of Vigilance was trying to open a security door.

Viewpoint: How did you recognize him?

A-33 goes silent for a klik this time, self-soothing, and keeping his optics locked on another part of the room away from Viewpoint.

A-33: I would know him down to the very atoms. I could not get close enough to see if he was functioning.

Viewpoint: Commander Exposure, who went into the facility, reported that there is one survivor who was found trying to open a door. Is this Vigilance?

A-33: Yes. I could tell it was Vigilance because he had clearly stopped saving himself to turn around and help someone else.

Viewpoint: I hope our team can restore him then. Do you think he would cooperate with an investigation?

A-33: Most likely.

Viewpoint: Do you think he would lie to protect Starmass?

A-33: No. I believe he will tell you the truth.

Viewpoint: What do you think the truth is?

A-33 straightens himself up again, putting his hands on the table and directly facing Viewpoint rather than looking to the side or at the floor.

A-33: I think the truth is that Starmass killed a lot of people for a prize that was not worth the cost.

After the interview, A-33 was seen leaving the medical wing he and the other survivors were being held in. Cameras caught him at 1877 joors searching the medical wings with little deterrence. Most of the on board medical staff was suffering from the abundance of work we had been receiving in the last quartex and was not at peak operating status, allowing A-33 to slip by without being noticed by staff. He was seen looking through several rooms until finding the one where staff stored Vigilance's parts. A-33 did nothing but stare for several kliks, eventually placing a hand on the tank, before exiting.

A-33 was last seen stealing a skipper, able to bypass security codes in place with ease, and escaped. By the time we noticed he was gone, there was no hope of tracking him down. I do not know why A-33 left or why in such a manner. We could not find a record of him among civilians but his versions of events were corroborated by the 10 other functioning survivors.

Currently, Vigilance is being held in a preservation chamber. We were able to recover some schematic data from the brain module but we do not have the parts necessary to conduct a full reconstruction. My staff have done minor reconstruction in order to protect and maintain the spark and brain module. We have located a facility that may be able to do the repairs necessary in Sector x12-y23. I have already informed the head of operations there of the situation and we are currently in-route.

I hope that this report will be sufficient for my request that the 103rd regiment be removed from active duty as we are overworked and overburdened. The staff have seen horror after horror and after two orns digging through what was left of the facility and the employees of the "Heart of Cybertron" I do not believe we will be an effective response team.

It has been three orns since our answer to "Safe Harbor" and I have not found it within my abilities to recharge nor refuel. My chief medical officer, Airlift, has relieved me of my duties and I request that they do not be returned to me. They have given me a list of recovery facilities and I hope to find a suitable fit. I will be there for a very long time.

#tablecont #tfocs #transformers ocs #tf oc #maccadam #autobot exposure #vigilance #starmass #new cybertronia #cw for robogore #clanks does a horror momence #transmorphobots prose

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sonofthedunes · 9 months

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as promised, the first one-shot i’ve written for this blog! let me know what you think. minors dni, etc.

Set just after the end of The Empire Strikes Back.

who says you cannot hold the moon in your hand?

~~~~~~

He won’t tell you what happened, exactly. No one will. All you know is that the Princess and Governor Calrissian found him clinging for dear life to the antenna at the bottom of Cloud City: bruised, bleeding, soaked in sweat…and missing his right hand.

It had been promptly replaced, of course, on the Alliance’s medical frigate. An Antilles BioGen L-980, one of the finest cybernetics on the market, now occupies the end of his wrist. To the average observer it looks no different than his remaining flesh hand; it serves all the same functions as the appendage he’s lost, thanks to the implanted neurochip. But every time he gazes on it when he thinks you aren’t looking, flexes the fingers and frowns, you know he feels it. The phantom pain, the sense of “othering,” the clear demarcation of his life into before and after. You know of course that he’s still Luke Skywalker, the Rebellion hero and the man you love-but something in him has changed fundamentally since that rescue, and that cybernetic hand is a constant reminder.

You can’t magically heal his anger or sadness. You can’t force him to tell you everything he’s done since you parted on Hoth. If the Force is with the Rebellion, there will be plenty of time for that in the future. But what you can do is help him forget for a few precious hours. To remind him that he is loved, no matter what scars or wounds he bears.

And where better to start than the hand?

You begin very slowly, there in the privacy of his quarters: it seems the most natural thing in the galaxy to pick up his artificial hand and methodically kiss every fingertip. The palm follows the fingers, right over his lifeline. You kiss just hard enough to be felt, but softly enough to entice. Under your lips whirr machinery where once was bone and muscle, and the synth skin isn’t quite as warm as real flesh…but you find you don’t really care.

If Luke’s face is any indication, though, he certainly does. He watches your motions apprehensively, brows knit over those clear blue eyes. “You don’t have to do this,” he protests.

“But I want to,” you reply, already moving on to his wrist.

“Love…” he cuts himself off and sighs-partly out of frustration, partly because your lips are resting on the tattooing pulse of his forearm. “I just…I’d rather not think about it.”

“But you do. I know you do.” Pausing in your ministrations, you sit back on the bed and regard him thoughtfully-as thoughtfully as two people in their military undergarments (tank tops and briefs) can hold eye contact. “Luke, I promise you I’m not repulsed by your hand. Oh, it upset me at first, knowing how much pain you were in. But now it’s…just a hand.” You massage it gently. “It’s part of you. And I don’t pick and choose the parts I love.”

He sighs again, curling his cybernetic fingers around yours. “I know. And sometimes I almost believe it. But when I catch myself looking at it for too long, or my grip is too tight, it all comes flooding back.”

“…Will you ever tell me? How it happened, I mean?”

Luke’s eyes are trained on you, but in that moment he’s looking beyond you to somewhere dark. Cold. “Someday. But not now,” he murmurs. His left hand sweeps a few tendrils of hair from your face. “I don’t want to think about it now.”

You smile and lift his right hand to your lips again, a motion that causes pink to bloom in his cheeks. “Well, what do you want, Luke?” you ask, as if the desire wasn’t already swimming in your veins.

Swallowing in a dry throat, muscles tensing, he responds in a low voice: “I want to touch you.”

There’s another part to that request which remains unspoken, but you understand it nonetheless. Keeping a sure grip on the mechno-hand, you press it to your cheek. “Like this?” you inquire. He dips his chin in a nod.

Thus encouraged, you guide the hand from your face to your collarbone. “And this?” you prompt. Another nod, accompanied by a rather breathy “yes.”

And Maker, the shuddering exhale that leaves him when the synth flesh meets your clothed breast. “Is this all right?” you manage, voice wavering as he hesitantly squeezes.

Luke dispenses with words then, leaning forward and kissing you with a measured, smoldering hunger. You groan a little in surprise, pressing your mouth eagerly to his and throwing your arms around his toned shoulders. In doing so, of course, you let go of his cybernetic…and almost of its own accord, it wanders lower.

A feather light touch swipes across your underwear, and you break the kiss with a squeak. Two pairs of eyes blown to black meet, two pairs of lips slightly parted pant, and Luke jerks his hand away as if he’s been burned. “Sorry,” he mutters. “ ‘M sorry. I thought…”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” you repeat, nuzzling him briefly. Flesh fingers find mechno, intertwine in reassurance.

His shoulders visibly relax. “Please, let me take care of you,” he entreats.

“With this hand?”

“Yeah. Wanna fuck you with it. Wanna watch you come on it,” he breathes, the faint blush now vivid twin firespots.

“Oh, starboy…” you coo, knowing how much effort those words demanded from him. “I want your beautiful fingers in me so, so much.”

It’s always a clumsy affair, wriggling out of standard-issue Alliance briefs (the least sexy garment in this or any galaxy). Yet you manage, and Luke can’t hold back a moan when you recline and part your legs to show him how wet you already are. “Fuck, is that all for me?” he says in wonder, crawling closer.

“Only for you,” you promise, taking his mechno-hand in yours once more. With patience and affection you clasp it for a heartbeat or two; then, at long last, you lead him to the valley of your cunt, the tips of his middle and index rubbing the dew before they slip inside.

This hand has never explored you before, but it knows just what to do. Those long thick fingers crook against your walls, caressing the warm gripping heat as they pump in a steady rhythm. You throw your head back on the pillow and whine, fire already building in your lower belly. “Yes, yes, darling boy, fuck me just like that,” you beg. “Oh Luke, I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” he groans, completely devoted to his task. He huffs your name, followed by a curse you think may be Huttese. “You’re so tight for me, fuck. Are you sure I’m not-“

“No! N-no, you’re fine.” Far from the cybernetics battering you, they apply just the right amount of pressure, of intensity. You lift your head then to look at him, your gorgeous boy, thrusting his fingers into your pussy with a furrowed brow and teeth set into his bottom lip. His flesh hand steadies him, his nostrils flare, a thin sheen of sweat glimmers. And-ah, there it is, his cock straining and leaving a damp stain on his own briefs. The very idea that this foreign intruder to his body is bringing you such pleasure shocks and arouses him all at once. He knows you mean it, these exclamations of joy, your eyes rolling back, your hips bucking to meet the busily working machine with truly obscene squelching noises. It’s not enough to fully eradicate the darkness preying on the edges of his mind, but it lights a tiny candle of hope. And he’s more than willing to accept it.

“Luke! Oh Luke, don’t stop,” you whimper as he twists his wrist, searching for that special spot.

He grins then, genuinely, for the first time in Force knows how long. “Is that good, baby?” he questions rhetorically.

“Ah-aah, you feel so…” Your caravan of thought derails as he locates the spongy patch high up in your secret place and deftly presses. Uttering a thin, pitchy cry, your back arches and your own hands grip the sheets. “Fuck! Oh Maker, oh…”

He grunts with the exertion and in satisfaction too, teeth gritted now, fully hard in his briefs like an overexcited teenager. “A-are you close?” he asks hoarsely.

“Uh-huh” is all you can manage as you rapidly ascend the dizzying heights, your world shrinking to the motion of his hand and the sound of his voice.

“Let go,” Luke urges, his order trembling beyond his control. Control is about to leave this room entirely. “Come for me, sweet girl. Soak my fuckin’ hand, I want to see it.”

And those words might have been sufficient on their own, but when he brings his thumb to your swollen clit and forms the tiny rapid-fire circles that never fail to light up every synapse…that’s it. You can’t hold out any longer, and with a choked sob you break, spiraling off into a void where no feeling exists but bliss, and no Galactic Empire can ever harm you.

You’re only faintly aware of Luke withdrawing his fingers as you sprawl across the mattress, heart pounding and breathing harsh. The sheets rustle as he lays himself next to you, a lightness in his face that hadn’t been there before. “Look,” he remarks, holding up his cybernetic for your inspection. Gleaming on the two fingers he’d just used, trickling down his wrist and forearm all the way to the bend of his elbow, your spend proves you heeded him well. A half-smile quirks one corner of his mouth. “So I guess you don’t mind it after all. My hand, I mean.”

Chuckling tiredly, you roll onto your side and kiss his cheek. “I told you! You just didn’t believe me,” you counter. “I love you, Luke-all of you.”

“And I love you, more than anything.” This time he seeks your mouth, and you happily surrender it. In the course of your kiss he shifts closer to you, craving the silk of your hair and the velvet of your bare arms-but accidentally brushes the bulge in his briefs against your thigh. A slightly pained “mmph!” vibrates through your teeth, and your lips curve amusedly.

“You want to me to take care of that?” you posit as the two of you slowly pull apart. “One good turn deserves another.”

Luke shakes his head as he flops onto his back, golden hair fanned against the pillow. “In a minute. I think we could both use a break.”

You follow him and settle your head on his chest, hand coming to rest over his strong, blessedly beating heart. “I think you’re right,” you agree quietly. Hell, the entire damn universe could use a break. And one day it would arrive-but until then, you think as your lover slings his arm over your back and pecks the crown of your scalp, already anticipating the pleasure to come, this isn’t so bad.

#luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker smut #c writes #god i haven’t published any writing in years i’m nervous af

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monstersandmaw · 5 months

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Hello! Here's an early release story for you that will be up on Tumblr in a week's time. Anon sent me this message and I responded with almost 8000 words:

"human prince who got cursed and turned into a merman, and while his family and the royal court struggle to find a way to break the curse he finds he's actually happier as a merman"

It's 3rd person, sfw, and features an orca clan who adopts our frightened prince, and there's a hint of mlm romance for one of the orcas with a human in the future... Anyway, I hope you like something a little different.

As always, please feel free to point out typos or inconsistencies - I'm currently dosed to the max on cold medication, so there's a very real chance I've missed something!

Take care x

Content: some mild elements of body horror during the curse/turning scene, brief but not gory/too explicit mention of marine animal death, some implied trauma resulting from a transformation against his will/separation from family and previous existence at a young age, brief description of blood/injury from a harpoon to another character

Wordcount: 7965

Dusk gathered over the gentle swells of the open ocean, gilding the new yardarms and painting the perfectly crisp, white sails of the Royal Navy’s flagship with a pink and orange watercolour glow. The ship’s guests drank and laughed, and celebrated The Sea Rose’s maiden voyage, utterly unaware that they were enjoying their final few moments of life as they knew it.

Unremarkable in almost every way, a small porpoise had been playing in the bow wave, its small, dark body darting mere inches from the stem each time it plunged in and out of the spray and waves.

It didn’t hear the warning from the sea witch racing to catch up with it, and when the young porpoise’s concentration slipped and the black-painted stem of ‘The Sea Rose’ collided with its solid little body, no one on board noticed the tragedy of its passing. Even if the guests hadn’t been half drunk on the heady mix of wine and their own self-importance, there was no one on lookout in the crow’s nest that day; the new ship was flanked for her safety by two frigates a little way off, both crewed with the Navy’s finest and bristling to the gunwales with cannon and ammunition. There was no need to keep a watch this time.

There was, after all, no danger.

And yet, the animal’s accidental death would not go unmarked, unmourned, or unpunished.

Heedless of the vengeful danger rising swiftly from beneath the ship, the king himself strode along the main deck in his white and gold finery, leaving his guests for a moment as he spotted his thirteen year old son standing at the taffrail on the afterdeck and staring out at the ship’s trailing wake.

He slapped the skinny boy on his shoulders by way of a greeting, and nearly sent him toppling over into the sea from the force of his jovial blow. Hauling him upright again with a meaty fist at the scruff of his velvet doublet, the king laughed, cheeks red with drink and the bracing sea air, and he grinned down at his second eldest son.

“What’s got into you, lad?” he asked, his words a little thick and his green eyes a little glassy. “You’ve begged me for years to be allowed to go to sea, and now you’re here, you look like you’d rather be anywhere else! You’re not seasick, are you, lad? You’re going to be Admiral of the Fleet when your brother ascends the throne — can’t have you turning green at the slightest bit of swell!”

“It’s not that, father,” he said, mustering a smile for the king. “I’m sorry. I was just… thinking.”

Down below on the deck, the little prince’s older brother was talking with a few of the captains and admirals, and the boy felt suddenly every bit as young as he was. ‘King’ Eolan was a title that would suit his brother one day, with his regal bearing and his noble features, while the younger boy was gangly and too skinny to fill out the doublet he wore or the fine leather boots on his small feet.

He didn’t get the chance to observe the Crown Prince in action for much longer though, because a shudder ran the length of the new ship, and conversation sputtered and died.

The sails quivered and the rigging shook like spiderwebs before a coming storm. All the hands looked to their stations while the royal guests shifted uneasily and someone dropped a wine flute into the silence of the swelling sea. The Crown Prince scuttled up the stairs to the afterdeck and joined his father, tense and alert, though not before laying a hand on his little brother’s shoulder and offering a reassuring smile.

While the ship sailed past the stricken porpoise in a foaming, heedless rush, the creature bobbed past with its back broken, dead on impact, and the sea darkened around it and then began to boil and churn along the sides of the ship.

Finally, a shout went up and someone standing by the rail on the port side pointed and then reeled back in alarm. They were joined by more guests and sailors until half the ship’s company was hanging off the side and staring into the water that had turned an inky black around the corpse of the sea creature.

The thirteen year old prince followed his father to the railing of the high afterdeck and peered over in time to see a humanoid figure rise from the water. Her long, wet hair hung around her shoulders like a veil of moonlight, and her eyes flashed the colour of the ocean on a summer’s day. Her skin was freckled and oddly iridescent and the air around her seemed to shimmer like the road on a summer’s day. In her right hand she held a staff that was the silvery brown of old driftwood, wrapped around with seaweed like the leather on the grip of a quarterstaff, and her lower body appeared to be that of a leopard seal.

The prince’s breath caught and he stared, slack jawed down at her, forgetting to be afraid.

...

Read the whole thing, and get access to my entire Patreon-exclusive back catalogue, as well as joining our chilled out Discord server here, for just $3! Those on the Little Ghosties tier also have access to one new, exclusive Patreon story per month, and for December, there might be more than one...!

#merfolk #merman #orca merfolk #mackerel merman #macks the merman #early release #patreon

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starlightrows · 7 months

Text

16 — Determinant

Hiding In Plain Sight

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Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Hospitals, illness, pandemic, grief

Summary: The galaxy is devastated by the illness stemming from Atraken. Wolffe struggles to cope with the very real possibility that you won’t survive.

Countless days have passed since you collapsed and Wolffe received the news about what they’re calling The Shadow of Atraken that has swept the galaxy seemingly overnight. He’s existed in a sort of liminal space this entire time, stretching on endlessly with no thought as to when or how there could ever be an end to it.

When he first got the news he and Sinker were already en route to getting you to the closest medical frigate. Upon arriving the triage team just confirmed what Rex had already communicated to them before to not administer any bacta and rerouted them to Naboo. Apparently the frigate was already full, there was not a single bed available to take another patient and barely enough medical staff to treat the soldiers already there.

Wolffe can’t remember anything about the trip front he frigate to Naboo. Looking back now it was like he blinked and you were being transferred into a bed, in a hospital room in Theed. That’s where you’ve been ever since. He and Slush have been camped out in this room with you for what must be weeks by now.

They’ve heard from others that The Republic is in utter chaos with nearly all of their medical staff affected by this disease. Many of them now dead or dying. There have also been reports that The Separatists are in a similar state. The war seems to have come to a strange stalemate, neither side wanting to take the offensive move in their severely weakened state.

Wolffe has no idea what he’s doing at this point. He was not given an order to take you to the medical frigate. He wouldn’t consider the advise of a frantic triage nurse to come to Naboo to be orders either. And he certainly has not received orders to stay here for weeks on end with you. He never thought he was the sort to abandon his post or disobey orders…. But what is there to do when there are no orders?

It’s like being in a waiting room or standing in line in a queue. Waiting for what though? For you to wake up and kiss him good morning? For him to wake up and find that this was all a terrible dream? For your heart rate monitor to stop beeping as you draw your last breath? He chokes back the bile that creeps into the back of his throat when he catches himself thinking of that possibility. He stands with such speed and urgency he gets dizzy and has to grit his teeth and close his eyes to reorient himself.

“Wolffe?” Slush’s voice is distant and hollow. He’s been perched on the day bed tucked into the window all day, looking out over the water.

“What is it?”

“We should com General Plo today” he doesn’t take his eyes off of the horizon.

When they arrived they had com’d The Radiant to let them know where they were and pass along what little information they had. In return they had repeated all the rumors and gossip that had begun circulating. At the time they had not heard from General Plo, and neither had Wolffe. He had thought about reaching out to General Plo. Reporting in. That is what you are supposed to do when the plan changes. But he just couldn’t. He couldn’t stand the thought of receiving orders that took him away from you. He had already seen it happen to others in this hospital.

But he knew that he couldn’t hide from that com call forever. And he couldn’t expect Slush to humor him forever either. Wolffe sighed and hung his head, “Yeah. I’ll step out for some air and make the call”

Slush nodded and stood up wordlessly, moving across the room to take the seat right next to you that Wolffe had been sitting in. They hadn’t discussed it at any point, but neither of them wanted you to be alone right now, so if one had to leave for any reason they other would be in the chair. Right at your arm in case you woke up.

Sometimes you did wake up. Your eyes would move behind your eyelids for a few minutes before fluttering open. You might only be awake for a couple minutes at a time but you could nod your head a bit, rasp out a few words maybe. Mostly you would stare up at Wolffe when he was near, hold his fingers with whatever grip strength you could muster.

Wolffe allowed Slush to take his place and slipped out of the room. The halls of this hospital are haunting. Almost no one speaks but it is filled with noise. The sounds of heart rate monitors, ventilators, droids moving around to attend patients, the clicking, beeping and whirring of medical equipment filled the space. In stark contrast, the sun shone brightly just beyond the front doors. The air was warm and the world seems to mock him with pleasant bird song and the gentle lapping of the waves.

Wolffe walked away from the hospital and sat on a boulder, staring down at his com device. He tapped it his hands a few times. What was he going to say? Hello general, I’ve regained my senses and am reporting for duty, please don’t decommission me for going AWOL for the last several weeks?

Fuck it. It can’t get any worse at this point. Whatever consequences are coming his way will come regardless. Might as well face the music and accept them. He dialed General Plo’s chain code and waited for an answer.

“Commander Wolffe” General Plo’s visage appeared in the holorgram

“General” he sat up a little straighter “I apologize for my lack of communication I—“

“I am aware of the situation involving the Captain. How is she now?” He asked

Wolffe was shocked, he had assumed that he would be ordered to return to The Radiant immediately. “She… she’s in no better state than the rest of them. Fading a little more each day it seems”

“I suppose it was a fools hope that she was the exception to this crisis and well on her way to a full recovery. Still, we must be grateful that she is still with us” General Plo says

“Sir… I have to admit, I don’t want to leave her here on her own. I know that Slush and I aren’t really doing anything to help at all”

“On the contrary commander. Your presence may be helping to ground her. Reminding her of what she is fighting stay for”

“Sir?”

“I understand that you are likely expecting to be ordered to return. But to be honest with you, there is really no point in doing so. The 104th was ordered to remain on The Radiant and given no further instruction, I see no point in leaving one of our own alone only to have you wait for news here. For the time being, your orders are to remain on Naboo with her and Slush. And let me know should anything change”

“Y-yes sir. Thank you sir”

The com call ended. Wolffe didn’t move from his spot for a long while, he just stared out across the water. The first time he had met General Plo, a few months before the destruction of The Triumphant, he never would have thought that he would be in a situation like this. He hadn’t thought about The Triumphant in a very long time. He didn’t like to think about it. All of the brothers he lost that day. Hundreds of them. He wishes he could remember every one of their names. Or maybe he doesn’t want to remember their names, it makes the pain of their loss more tangible. The sun began to set and Wolffe found himself following the familiar path back into the hospital and up to your room. He takes Slushes previous spot at the window, continuing to sit in these blackened memories.

He thinks of Mav. Mav was one of the first losses that felt tangible. He knew Mav. He was young, a shiny with Cricket and Jag. But he always seemed older and wiser than his batch mates. He was smart, funny, took criticism and orders well, he was a good team member. And he was brave. Brave enough to run into the spray of blaster fire to shut the gates that saved nearly a thousand people that were hiding behind the walls of that city.

But this. This is different. You are different. You’re not one of his brothers or even a fellow soldier any more. You are so much more than that now. His person. His other half. He knows you better than he even knows himself in some ways. The thought of losing you makes his stomach drop and his blood run cold. The thought of losing you makes a sense of panic rise in his chest, gripping him with a fear that threatens to eat him alive. Becausing losing you means losing the only parts of the life that he feels are worth living for.

“What did General Plo say?” Slush asks into the painful silence that had settled into the room once more

Wolffe swallows the lump that’s formed in the back of this throat. He hadn’t realized how close he was to tears until he tried to speak. He clears his throat again “He uh… he said we are to remain here. There is no point in us going back to The Radiant when there is nothing for us to do there…. And it’s better that someone be here with her”

Slush shifts his gaze from where it’s been fixed on your hand to Wolffe sitting on the window bench. The last of the light from outside illuminating his brother's tense face and to his surprise, tears forming in his eyes.

“Wolffe?” Slush sits up in his chair

Wolffe clears his throat again and turns his body towards the window, shielding his face from Slush’s view. Slush stands from the chair and crosses over to the window, setting himself down across from his brother. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, he just looks back at you, laying so still but your chest still rising and falling with gentle breath.

“When you were laying in a bed like that, recovering from your injury, she didn’t leave your side either. Day and night she looked after you. When you woke up and were… struggling to cope… she wept at the thought of losing you” he says, leaning back against the glass “That’s when I knew”

Wolffe wipes a hand over his face, really having to work to keep this emotions at bay. “Yeah well, it’s not going to matter soon. Me loving her won’t save her from this”

“It matters” Slush says simply

“She could do something when it was me. She… threatened or bargained or extorted someone to save me. She fought for me, even if I didn’t deserve it” suddenly the first tear tracks down his cheek “She fucking fought for me. And I can’t fight for her. There’s nothing for me to fucking do! She’s slipping through my fingers and I can’t do a fucking thing about it”

Slush’s heart aches. You are his best friend. This feeling of helplessness has consumed him the last few weeks. But seeing his commander, his brother, break down this way brings on a new depth of pain. But he couldn’t accept it.

“She’s a fighter. She’s holding on with everything she has. For you” Slush says, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder “Keep giving her something to hold on to. Don’t give in”

Wolffe hesitates for a beat, then pats Slush’s hand on his shoulder in thanks. He swallows the lump in his throat and nods. He’s right. He knows that Slush is right. You’re still alive when others have died. You’re still able to open your eyes a couple times a day and speak if you have the energy. You are a fighter. You fought for him. You’re still fighting for him, to stay with him.

A few days later, while sitting in the chair by your side he’s roused from a nap he didn’t realize he was nodding off into, his com begins buzzing. It takes him a moment to make the connection that the chaincode is Rex. He stands quickly and steps out into the hallway to answer.

“Rex, this better be good news” he says without a real greeting, continuing to walk down the hall so he won’t disturb others in the hospital, or reveal anything if Rex’s communication needs to be kept private.

Rex wastes no time, “Do you remember that mission on Naboo I told you about, where I almost died of Blue Shadow plague?”

“Vaguely. Why?” Wolffe tries desperately to remember what his brother had told him of that situation or any details from the report if he even read it.

“Apparently this disease is very similar” Rex continues

“Okay, and what does that mean?” Wolffe wants him to hurry up and get to the point.

“Well, hopefully if someone collects a large enough sample from the source, a cure can be synthesized from the vaccine we already have from Blue Shadow” Rex explains, trailing off at the end

“But….” Wolffe prompts him

“But it means going down to the surface of Atraken…” Rex finally says

Wolffe grits his teeth and closes his eyes. He saw the holo images. He heard from you and many others what is left of the planet’s surface. “Fuck” he mutters “They aren’t going to authorize a mission are they?”

“General Skywalker is leading this mission, so authorization wasn’t even part of the discussion” Rex rolls his eyes tiredly “But regardless of that, the mission is volunteer only. General Skywalker will not order anyone to participate in this mission”

“Aside from the obvious, what are the risks?” Wolffe ventures to ask

“The odds of finding enough source material are slim as it is. The protective gear we have will work to prevent us from contracting the disease, but not for long. If we succeed we’ll be treated with the vaccine that is synthesized and we’ll save as many of the afflicted as we can. If we fail. They will all die, and so will the mission crew” Rex says “It’s a very narrow chance of success. But it is the only chance to save our people”

“Fuck… how many people are on the mission?” Wolffe asks

“Right now? Three. General Skywalker, Ahsoka and me” Rex says “We’re on our way to Naboo now to pick up the protective equipment that was left from Blue Shadow. The offer is open if you want to volunteer”

Wolffe nods “When are you due to arrive?”

“Tomorrow morning” Rex pauses “How is she?”

“It’s not good,” Wolffe admits, your condition has deteriorated the last few days. You’re less aware when you are awake, and your support needs have increased tenfold just in the last few days. “How’s Kix?”

“Could go tomorrow, could be a week, could be a month” Rex sighs “Latest reports are saying that the death rate is rising quickly. This mission has to happen now or it will be too late”

There is quiet between them for a moment. Too late. It’s already too late for so many. And there will be no chance to save any of them if the mission fails.

“I’ll see you tomorrow” Wolffe says finally before hanging up the com

Wolffe goes back inside and wanders back to your room. This is it. This is how he can fight for you. But it means leaving you. It means there would be a chance that you lose this fight, without him there for you. H

He’s so wrapped up in these thoughts that he doesn’t notice the door to your room is open and there’s voices coming from inside.

“General?” Wolffe is surprised to see General Plo Koon standing by your bedside, talking to Slush.

“Hello Commander” General Plo says, turning to greet him

“Are there new orders sir?” Wolffe stands straight and feels dread collecting in his chest

“No, as of right now all focus seems to be on finding a cure and ensuring that no one else is affected” He explains, “I came for her, and for you”

That was unexpected, “For me?”

“Yes, I know of General Skywalker's plan to return to Atraken. And I know they will be making a stop here to collect the supplies they need” He says, measured and careful as always “Captain Rex just spoke to you I assume?”

“Are you here to stop them sir?” Slush asks, before Wolffe could answer.

“Not at all. I don’t think my interference would matter regardless” he chuckles “Skywalker and Ahsoka are a relentless pair”

“Rex offered me the chance to go with them” Wolffe admits

“I sense your conflicted feelings Wolffe” General Plo observes. Wolffe doesn’t know what to say. Of course he does feel conflicted but how could he possibly explain

General Plo strides towards the door, beckoning Wolffe to follow. Wolffe steals a glance at you and turns to follow General Plo. They walk together down the quiet halls and out into the evening. General Plo does not speak, he leads them down to the edge of the water and looks out towards the setting sun.

“This war has deprived us of many of life’s pleasures, especially the simplest ones like sunsets and good company” General Plo says

“Yes, I suppose so sir” Wolffe agrees, though he is not finding much pleasure in this particular sunset

“Tomorrow, when General Skywalker and Ahsoka leave for Atraken, will you be with them?”

Wolffe glares out at the pink and purple hues that paint the horizon. The answer should be simple. But it isn’t, there is no part of this that is simple. “If you order me to go, I will” he says

“I can not. It is not my mission to send you on” he says “But neither will I order you to stay. This is your choice Wolffe”

He shakes his head, “I wish it wasn’t. It’s an impossible choice to make”

“In your mind, what is the worst possible result of you abstaining from this mission?”

“The mission fails… all of the doctors and nurses and medics will die”

“And if you go?”

“She will die while I’m gone… the mission could fail regardless” there’s nothing left to lose, might as well just admit the whole truth “I don’t want her to die”

“No one wants the ones they love to pass. That is a truth of life. But the time comes for each and every one of us to rejoin the living force eventually”

“That time can’t be now. It just can’t”

General Plo turns and looks at Wolffe. “Love is a powerful thing Commander. Love can motivate people to do great things. Surviving despite the odds, or taking a chance against even greater odds”

Wolffe looked up at General Plo with a horrified expression, he hadn’t intended to reveal the relationship or that he loved you. He had kept it a secret for over two years… or so he thought.

“Sir?”

“No need to worry or explain” General Plo replied, placing a gentle hand on Wolffe’s shoulder “Your affection for one another is well masked. But I have known you both for a long time, your connection is unmistakable in the force”

“If I leave her she could die alone and I… wouldn’t be there to say goodbye”

“You have always been a good soldier, a good commander, a good man Wolffe. I know you will make the right choice” General Plo gives his shoulder a squeeze and goes back inside.

The sun has set, but Wolffe stands rooted to the spot. He turns the options and the conversation with General Plo over and over and over in his mind. But there is a clear choice. There only ever was one choice. One path forward. He has to go.

He wants very desperately to be selfish, to stay with you until the bitter end and ensure that you leave this world, that’s done nothing but hurt you, in peace. But he has a duty to you, to protect you. And a duty to The Republic. If there is a chance he can save you by going on this mission, he has to take it.

With his decision made, he makes his way back up to the room. General Plo has taken his spot in the chair at her side, Slush watches from his perch at the window. They both look up when he enters the room.

“I’m leaving with Rex” he says “It’s the only chance we have to save them”

General Plo stands first and places both hands on his shoulders “A worthy choice commander. The path ahead will be dangerous, make sure to acknowledge your feelings as they come and let them pass to keep a clear head. May The Force be with you”

“Thank you General… for everything”

General Plo gives him a nod and steps out of the room. Slush stands from the window and comes to stand by Wolffe, looking down at you with a sad smile.

“I never should have let her leave that day on Denarian Prime. None of this would have happened” Wolffe says

“It’s not your fault. What were you going to do? Disobey orders? Keep her with us and hope no one noticed? You would have been court martialed” Slush shakes his head

“I have to do this,” Wolffe whispers. “I’m running the risk of letting her die alone on the slim chance of finding a cure. But I have to do this”

Slush looks away from your sleeping form to his brother, his best friend. “Even a slim chance has hope to succeed” he says “And even if it is her time to go, she won’t be alone. I’m not going anywhere”

“Thank you” Wolffe nods “Rex will be here soon. Do you mind giving me a couple minutes with her?”

“Of course” Slush nods, and quietly leaves the room letting the door shut behind him. Wolffe pulls the seat closer to the bed and takes your hand. He takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh, squeezing your hand and pressing it to his lips for a kiss.

He says your name softly, hoping you can hear him.

“I don’t know what the next few days will hold for us, and I don’t know if you can hear me right now” he starts “I will hold you in my heart for the rest of my life. Since the moment your voice came through the radio, when I thought all hope was lost, you were my light. You gave me hope and convinced me to keep going”

He wishes you were awake, so you could hear these words “You’ve saved me more times than I can count. Fought for me and convinced me not to give up on myself. You reminded me that I have something to live for. You begged me not to give in when I was at my lowest” he squeezes your hand between both of his “I’m not giving up on you honey. I might not be here when you wake up… I don’t know when I’ll be back… I don’t know if I will make it back at all. This is the only way”

His voice cracks a bit and he feels your fingers flex in his hands, though your face and body remain unchanged and unmoving. The sun is rising beyond the horizon, he knows it almost time to go.

“Please” he whispers your name “don’t give up. Don’t you quit on me”

Tag List:

@maulslittlemeowmeow @lucyysthings @justanothersadperson93 @lackofhonor @paige6768 @thefact0rygirl @ttzamara @nekotaetae @jennrosefx @kashasenpai @littledragonlady @love-space-nerd

#commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #Hiding In Plain Sight

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girlactionfigure · 7 months

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ISRAEL REALTIME - morning updates - Nov 1

— As previously mentioned, the IDF lost 11 soldier heroes yesterday in battle. May their memories be a blessing!

— IDF INTERCEPTS MISSILE FROM LEBANON… overnight the IDF shot down a surface-to-air missile fired from Lebanese territory at an IDF drone. In response, Air Force aircraft attacked the source of the fire from which the missile was launched as well as the squad that carried out the launch.

— IDF NAVY DEPLOYS… several Israeli Navy Missile Frigates to the Rea Sea by Eilat. (Analyst) The ships have capabilities for the interception of cruise missiles and suicide drones if fired from Yemen. They are not a (major) attack force, but defensive.

— IDF PUSHES JENIN (Shomron / West Bank)… IDF forces operated in Jenin to destroy terrorist infrastructure. IDF bulldozers "shaved" roads to reveal explosives. Arab sources say 3 terrorists killed.

— US CITIZENS “STUCK”… US officials state 500 citizens have been stuck in Gaza, with Hamas refusing to allow foreign nationals to leave. Supposedly Hamas will allow them to leave today.

— REUTERS SAYS ONLY FOREIGNERS… According to Reuters, based on a Qatari source, an agreement (with Hamas) to evacuate wounded and foreign nationals is separate from any other negotiations (no hostages).

— EGYPTIAN AMBULANCES ENTER… pictures from the Gaza/Egypt border show Egyptian ambulances entering Gaza to evacuate wounded.

— EVACUEE HEALTH HOTLINE… The Ministry of Health opened a dedicated hotline with the aim of ensuring that all citizens staying outside their homes receive medical coverage and assistance at their temporary residence, and for the duration. *5400, extension 4 in languages: Hebrew, Arabic, English and Russian.

#Israel #Operation Iron Sword #Israel/Hamas War #Real Time Updates

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sunshinesdaydream · 10 months

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The Power of Love Part 2

Pairing: Hardcase x Reader (She/They) AU: Right to Love Clone Matchmaking AU Rating: SFW Summary: The return of the bad pick up line and the first date. Content Warning: Clones and reader speak Mando'a badly because I can't language. Word Count: 2289

Link to Playlist I use for this AU

Notes: -All of my fic in this AU are named for songs and are on the playlist linked above.

Short Bios for Isa Mio and Greatheart are complete.

-Credit for dividers goes to @freesia-writes and the clone trooper helmets @lornaka

-End graphic credit to @tcwmatchmakingau for the reward for completing a request.

-Title image by me

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3

You didn’t bother reading the packet, or rereading the profile. Between the medical frigate and the supply depot on Coruscant, you had interacted and were basically adopted by enough clones to not only have more than a handle on their culture. But also be part of it. You spoke and understood more than enough mando’a to understand when they decided to speak it. That depended heavily on their trainers and who their COs were. Greatheart adopted you as a sibling not long after falling for Isa. Many of your coworkers, both on the ship and on Coruscant had become very close friends. Almost all of them were troopers. Just about when you were going to dig around for dinner, Isa and Greatheart showed up with take out. “We’re here to keep you company!” Isa said, holding up a bottle of wine. “I’m here to keep you company,” Greatheart said, as he set the food on your counter,” She’s here to tell you more about the guy and grill you about what you are going to wear,” “To make up for it, I brought your favorite!” Isa reasoned. Arranged at the small dining table, Isa started in. Full on info dumping about the guy. When she started analyzing his microexpressions from when she talked about you, Greatheart said, “I think that’s enough, Love,” “I’m glad it’s in the evening, I’ll have a chance to go shopping,” you say, trying to head off the clothing debate. “I need something more appropriate to wear for skating and see if the skate shop has some plain coverings. If not I might have to use the ones at the rink…” “What are you talking about?” Isa asked. “Your skates are pretty, and don’t you have clothes to skate in?” “They are all like this,” you gestured to the brightly colored outfit you wore. “I’ll find something more mature to wear,” “The kark you will!” Isa exclaimed pushing back from the table and marching off to your room. “What are you doing?” You ask as she began riffling through your closet. Cursing in several languages came from inside your closet. Something toupe in color got thrown out of the closet with a yell of “Throw that the kriff away!” Greatheart leaned in the doorway, still sipping the wine you had with dinner. “Now you did it, vod’ika,” he laughed. “I picked him for you because he is going to love your bright, colorful self” she said, emerging with one of your favorite outfits. “This, is perfect!”

You skated the rink, trying to blow off the nervous energy. Isa had been trying to find someone for you since she found Greatheart. But she had been a romantic for as long as you knew her.

Maybe the extra nerves were because Greatheart had been so sure? You didn’t know. You kept switching between anxiously watching the entryway when you could to pointedly not looking at it. The rink was empty for the most part, as it usually was on this day. The busy days were the weekends.

You figured you would know him when he walked in. Not many clones came here, the ones that did were regulars that you knew. So you did know it was him the minute he came in. But he also spotted you right away, and smiled brightly and waved. You realized Isa probably showed him a picture or a hundred of you. He looked so very happy you couldn’t help but smile back as you headed over to him. “Looks like you’re having fun, meshla!” He called as soon as you were close enough. “I am!” You answer, “want to learn?” “Let’s do it!” The excitement in his voice was not faked. “I hadn’t even heard of this before,” “I don’t think it’s even done outside of Coruscant anymore,” you answer. Wondering at the ease of the conversation. “Wouldn’t know,” he answered as the attendant didn’t even bother to ask shoe size and handed him skates. “Everywhere I’ve seen so far is either to rural or too stuffy. Some of the guys would love this even if it would give our medic fits,” “There is a reason I never told Isa about being in roller derby,” you tell him. “What’s that?” He asks, eagerly. “Later,” you laugh, “let’s get you skating first” He begins changing to the skates and you notice his shoes. Bright purple athletic shoes, obviously new or fairly new. “Oh I love your shoes!” You exclaim. “Really?” He asks, his voice stumbles for a beat. “I wasn’t going to get them because someone told me they were childish, but I went back to get them today,” “They are such a good color” you tell him, “You shouldn’t listen to people that say you shouldn’t wear what you like,” as you internally kicked yourself for doing the same. “I don’t anymore, cyar’ika,” he grins up at you as he finishes lacing his skate. Hardcase definitely wasn’t the most difficult person you ever taught to skate. He actually took to it fairly easily, but got ahead of himself more times than not and ended up falling with a laugh. You couldn’t help laugh with him. One time, he was laughing harder than the other times before. “You didn’t hit your head did you?” You ask, “I really don’t need a medic after me,” “No,” he said, catching his breath, “just remembered something kind of stupid,” You give him a questioning look, but you don’t press. “The guys were trading bad pick up lines,” he said, “I think I’m falling for you,” he laughed. You giggle and say, “oh that is bad,” He uses one finger, tilting your head up for you to make eye contact and with a soft grin says, “yeah, it is. But I think I might also be true,” then brushes a soft kiss to your cheek. Next thing you know he has a hold of your hand and is asking you to teach him the next thing. “You just fell trying the last one,” you protest. “Maybe some practice?”

"The turn or the kiss?” Hardcase asked, impishly. “Both” you answered immediately. He smiled brightly, “good!” You actually spend another hour skating when you can hear his stomach growl over the music. “Time to eat?” You ask, laughing. Hardcase nods enthusiastically saying, “come on, I know just the place” as he is already moving. He had you out on the crowded walk and weaving through the crowd. Your hand securely in his as he led the way. It wasn’t more than a couple of minutes when you are outside a diner. “It’s not the one I usually go to, but it’s still good” he grinned. “Sounds good to me,” you agree. “They have milkshakes?” “Of course!” He said as he led you went inside. While you waited for the food to arrive he asked, “how do you feel about pranks?” “I like to participate in them,” you grin. “Good, because Rex asked a favor,” Hardcase said. “Rex, as in the Captain?” You ask. “You know him?” “I know his signature from his requisitions, the forgery that I’m sure is one of his medics that I let slide through, one that always requisitions the wildest things, and one that tries to get explosives,” you count off on your fingers. His shoulder shook with repressed laughter, mischief sparkled in his eyes. “Wait, you?” You asked. “Let me guess… the explosives?” “Why do you think that was me?” He laughed. “I guessed,” you laugh. “The guys are not going to believe this. So who is doing the random combinations?” “Fives, or Echo. Or both” Hardcase answered, still laughing. “They sound fun,” you say. “They are,” he grinned, ”they are great brothers,” “Wait, Captain Rex wants you to play a prank on someone?” You ask. “More like my brother Rex wants us to get back at some of my other brothers because they were obnoxious on his first date,” he answered. “What did they do?” You ask. Hardcase told you about Echo trying to hack Rex’s com to listen in on the date, failing that tried to follow them around. He had you laughing so hard you could barely breathe when the food arrived. “Good to know they do it out of love,” You laugh, as you dip a fry into your shake he grinned and did the same. “Kind of like Isa?” he asked. “Isa is a menace, ever since Greatheart showed up on the ship, ”you shook your head. “It took about two standard

months for her to get settled and then she started trying to set me up with anyone,” “The ship?” he asked. “The first half of the war I was in charge of supply on one of the medical frigates. It's how I met Isa,” you explain. “She was assigned the bottom bunk and I had the top. I don't stay very still in my sleep. The first night I woke up floating in the air next to the bunk. It's how she basically kept me from being in bacta for two days and I found out she was from the Jedi service corp,” You trade stories over the rest of your meal and then as you go out and walk around aimlessly. Eventually you make it back to the entrance of your building. “So, what did Rex want us to do?” You ask, remembering the earlier conversation. “What? Oh, I don’t know yet,” Hardcase answered, “he wanted to wait and see how tonight went” “And how did tonight go?”You tease. Hardcase looked a bit more serious, his smile slightly more shy, “Like I’d be a di’kut to let you go,” his hand on your lower back, pulling you close as you blush. “Why would I want to leave?” You return, still blushing. “I'm not too childish for you?” he asked, his tone somewhere between teasing and plaintive. “You?” you ask, “What about me? Maybe we just play well together,” “Do you think we do?” he asked, now grinning, running his fingers gently along your cheek before cradling the back of your neck. “I think so,” you hold on to his broad shoulders. He hummed in agreement as he gently kissed you. As you pulled him closer to you, the kiss deepened and became almost playful. The hand he had on your back tracing random patterns through your shirt. When the kiss ended naturally, both of you smiling, he asked. “Can I com you tomorrow?” “You better,” you answer,”Because I'm going to com you too,” “When can I see you again?” he asked. “Mmm,” you hum, thinking. “You said you had early patrol the day after tomorrow?” He nodded in response. “Want to come over and we can make a pizza and watch a holo?” you offer. “I'll bring some icecream,” he offered. “You're going to spoil me,” you accuse him. “I hope so,” he said, giving you a quick kiss. “Sweet dreams,” he murmured against your lips. You don't think you are going to be able to fall asleep. But you do, waking to both your alarm and your com going off at the same time. Isa, she knew your schedule as well as she knew her own. “'Morning, Isa,” You mumble, pulling yourself out of bed. “How did it go?” she squealed.

“Isn't it early for you to be talking shop?” you ask as you stumble into the 'fresher to brush your teeth, blinking in the bright light. “Office doesn't open for another five hours,” You hear faint grumbling in the background. “Did you wake him for this?” you ask. “Heart is fine, now tell me about how it went,” she returned. “It went great,” you say through a mouth full of toothpaste. “Great? Is that all?” she said. “I need details!” “You know you aren't getting any details out of me this time of day,” you remind her as you continue to brush your teeth, propping the com up on the sink while you start to multitask getting ready to leave. “If I didn't do it now I would have to wait until you went to lunch, or left work for the day,” she said. You hear Greatheart mumble something about patience and the sun not being up in the background. “I agree with whatever he said,” you tell her, rinsing your mouth. “You always take his side,” Isa pouted. “It's because he's usually right,”You answer, washing your face. “Not usually,” Isa said. “Okay, always,” you answer. Your com starts beeping that someone else was trying to contact you. You look at the screen, Hardcase. “Isa, he is trying to com. I'll talk to you later,” You switch lines. “Hi,” you say.

“Hi, could I see you for a minute?” he asked. “Um, yeah,” you went to your door panel and saw him on the screen. You push the code for him to come up. You were still in your sleep clothes, hair a mess from sleep, but you didn't care. You opened the door in time to see him step out of the lift smiling. Evidently in the middle of a morning run, shorts and t-shirt, a bit sweaty. He walked towards you, cradled your cheek with a warm hand and kissed you with the same playfulness as the night before. “Good morning, babe,” he said as soon as he pulled back. “Good morning,” you answer, slightly dazed. “Talk to you later?” he asked, backing into the lift as he asked. He laughed as you nodded enthusiastically as the lift door closed. You immediately call Isa back, ”I’ll be by after work with tea for you and a caf for Heart. Tell him I love him,” Evidently you were on speaker. “Love you to, vod’ika. You owe me a pastry for this,"

Thanks for reading! Check out more of this AU @tcwmatchmakingau

❤️Love and Wrecker Hugs!❤️

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3

Tag list (Send a message, ask or use this form to join or be removed) @lightwise @captainbutterflynonsense @sleepycreativewriter @523rdrebel @inneedoffanfics @cloneloverrrrr @Trappedinlimbo15 @chubbyhedgehog @blueink-bluesoul

#hardcase my beloved #hardcase x reader #star wars #the clone wars #clone wars #clone wars fan fiction #sunshine writes #tcw matchmaking au #clone matchmaking au #right to love au #the power of love

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