Playing Pretend
Playing Pretend
Pairing: Wrecker x Twi'Lek fem!Reader
Words: 16,373
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fake married, (not) unrequited feelings, Wrecker yearning x1000, some negative self talk, big "get your hands off my wife!" energy, some minor jealousy, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink obviously, light dom!Reader
Summary: The mission is simple: infiltrate a lavish party, plant a bug, and get out. The only problem: Wrecker has to pretend to be married to you, and he's not so sure he can hide how much he likes it.
A/N: Happy Wrecker Wednesday! This is definitely the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written, down to the nonhuman reader bc I'm getting a little bored with humans. With this, we've officially reached the end of the fics I wrote before creating this account, and we're going out with a bang (literally).
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This mission is going to be a disaster.
It's not that Wrecker doesn’t trust you, quite the opposite. You’re quiet, quick, and resourceful, and you’re one of the smartest people he’s ever met. You're built for infiltration, for gathering intel, and as far as the Batch is concerned, you have yet to fail a mission. So no, there’s no doubt in his mind you're the perfect spy.
It’s his own ability that gives him pause.
Hunter, Echo, hell, even Tech would’ve been a better pick for any sort of espionage mission over him. When Hunter informed them Wrecker was the one that was going with you, Wrecker laughed. A full belly laugh that brought tears to his eyes and left his face aching, because the very idea of him sneaking around, being stealthy, well, it was ridiculous.
It was so ridiculous he was sure Hunter had meant it as a joke, but when he saw the serious look on his face, the one that told him his brother meant business, Wrecker began to sweat. He hasn’t really stopped since.
Lying and pretending are two things he’s truly terrible at, coupled with the fact that he’ll be alone with you, playing pretend with you, and he‘s been on edge ever since.
It doesn't help that Cid insisted the only way you could get close to the target is by posing as a married couple. One that are newlyweds, at that.
Wrecker knows this is a job, just a job, but it's still you.
He's still going to be touching you, and not because you need him to, or you want him to, but because the job requires it. And the whole thing just has him feeling weird. He knows you can fake being a couple, but he's not sure if he can.
As much as Wrecker hates lying and pretending, he really doesn't hate you. If he's being honest, he probably likes you too much. So that's why, when Hunter told him about the mission, and then later asked if he was alright with the details, Wrecker had said yes.
The look Hunter gave him told him that he didn't quite believe him, and Wrecker wasn't even sure he believed himself. After all, it's no secret he doesn't have the greatest poker face. He doesn't like lying, especially to his brothers. But he also doesn't like disappointing them, or disappointing you, and he's willing to do just about anything to make sure you're safe.
The rest of the night before the mission was spent planning and strategizing, which meant he didn't see much of you. He wanted to check in and make sure you were feeling good about the plan, but he never got the chance.
Now, here he is, in a small, nondescript hotel room with you, the rest of the squad holed up in the Marauder and waiting on your signal. The room itself is nice, but small, and there's only one bed. He’d felt his nerves spike when he first saw it, but he forced himself to relax. If everything goes according to plan, you won't be sleeping in it.
There are other things he's more worried about, anyway. Like how he's going to pull this off, and how he's going to manage not to fuck up, and most importantly, how he's going to manage spending the entire mission trying not to get too wrapped up in you.
That last part is the hardest.
He's sitting on the bed, the holomap spread out on the small table beside it. Your target is a small-time gangster, and he’s having a party at his penthouse tonight, so it's the perfect opportunity to sneak in. All you have to do is go through the party, find the main office, plant a few bugs, and then get out.
Easy peasy.
At least, that's what Tech said.
Well, he said a lot more than that, but Wrecker had kind of zoned out around the time Tech started talking about security cameras and frequencies.
What he does know is the bugs need to be placed somewhere in the office, and the two of you will have to blend in and seem as natural as possible until you can make your way there. Easy for you, but Wrecker knows he'll stick out like a sore thumb, even if he isn't in his armor.
“You alright, big guy?”
Wrecker nearly jumps at the sound of your voice, heart in his throat as he feels your hand gently grab his arm. He tenses underneath your touch.
He can’t remember the last time you touched him, or even the last time the two of you were alone together. Probably because it hasn’t happened. He thinks he would remember if it had, because it feels electrifying. Your manicured hand, complete with a wedding ring, slides against the fabric of his suit. It takes everything in him not to shiver.
Then he turns to face you fully, and his eyes nearly fall out of his head.
No, he’s not alright.
You look absolutely stunning.
It's not like you don't look stunning every day, you do, and even when you're in armor, or covered in dirt and grime, Wrecker thinks you're beautiful. But this...this is something else. It's not fair.
You’ve shared a bit about Ryloth during your time together, and you’d mentioned that ever since you left the hot planet, you felt cold. He’s never seen you without a jacket except that one time you’d been shot in your shoulder, and even then, he was more focused on keeping pressure on the wound and getting you to safety than on what you were wearing.
But right now, he can't focus on anything else.
He, embarrassingly, tends to ogle whenever any inch of your vibrant skin is on display. He walked straight into a wall the time you stretched in front of him, and your shirt rode up to reveal a hint of the curve of your stomach. When he saw your legs in a dress at 79s, he shattered his glass. He couldn’t help it. That was one of the first times he realized he had a problem, but it certainly wasn't the last.
You're just...so much, all the time, and you don't even realize it. He's gotten better at being discrete, or at least, he's better at hiding his reactions.
But this is so, so much.
Made of some fancy shimmering black fabric, the top of the dress left nearly your entire chest exposed along with your arms. With two thin straps to hold it up, he doesn't know how it's staying in place, but he's sure if he looks hard enough, he'll find out.
A deep cut runs down the middle of the dress, starting right under your clavicle and ending in a point just below your stomach. It's long, coming all the way down to your feet and flaring out, and there are two slits up either side of the dress, exposing your thighs as you move.
There's no denying it, the dress is tight, and Wrecker is trying so hard not to look, honestly, but it's like his eyes are glued to your body.
You mentioned you would have a weapon on you just in case, but looking over you now — admiring the way the expensive fabric clung to every curve of you — he struggles to imagine where it could be.
He swallows. Hard.
The hand on his arm lets go to reach up and hold one of your lek, shifting it so both were draped over one shoulder. You’d gone all out with decorating them as well. Sparkling straps of black crisscrossed up to a velvet headpiece that takes the place of your usual bandana, all coming to a point high on your forehead, where a deep blue jewel sits at your crown. It shifts slightly with the raise of your eyebrows, and he realizes he's been staring, and he’s still not saying anything.
Wrecker forces out the first words on his mind.
“Wow! You look—wow..."
You give him a small smile, a hint of color darkening your cheeks, and his heart thuds in his chest. He wants to make you blush all the time.
He reaches out and grabs your hand, lifting it above your head with ease. Wrecker turns you into a spin, and he’s rewarded with your cute laugh and the sound of the dress swishing as you spin. And then he sees your back, entirely exposed all the way down to the dimples at the base of your spine, just above the curve of your ass.
Holy shit.
He has to look away, letting go of your hand to rub the back of his neck, feeling a little light-headed. This is already not going well.
“You clean up well yourself, handsome,” you say between a laugh, and he blushes more than he already is.
Wrecker doesn't consider himself all that good-looking, especially compared to his brothers, but you've told him once or twice he's not hard on the eyes. You've also told him he has a nice smile, which had him grinning like an idiot for a solid day. He's still smiling now, because hearing you call him handsome makes his heart pound in his chest.
Still, he's not used to all the compliments. It's a lot, especially when they come from you.
"Tech and Echo did the best they could, I guess," Wrecker shrugs. The motion stretches the threads of his dark suit, and he grimaces. It's itchy, and too tight, and he hates it. He doesn't get how people wear these things all the time. "Not really used to the fancy stuff."
You tilt your head, looking him over. He resists the urge to squirm.
“C’mere," you tell him, beckoning him with your hand.
Wrecker does as he's told, and your hands grab his tie. The feeling of you tugging him closer by the silk sends a rush of heat through his veins, and he can’t help but grin down at you as he watches you adjust it for him.
Your mouth is pursed, nose wrinkling slightly as you concentrate on getting it just right, even though you both know he'll likely mess it up in a matter of minutes anyway. You’re so cute, and you're so close, and it would be so easy for him to lean in and kiss you.
He's thought about it a lot, and he's almost done it once or twice, but then you'd pull back, or one of his brothers or Omega would come into the room, and the moment would be gone. It was probably for the best, considering he doesn't even know how you feel about him.
“Thanks," he mumbles.
You're still standing close, your chest practically touching his.
"Of course." The words are soft, and they leave him feeling hotter than ever.
He looks away from you, and catches sight of the two of you in the mirror. Wrecker has always been a bit of a sucker for a good romance, and this? This is right out of one of his favorite holovids. You're both dressed in the finest clothes, him in a suit, you in a gorgeous dress, and it's just the two of you against the world.
Except, this isn't real.
There isn't any grand romance, and the feelings that threaten to burst from his chest are his and his alone.
“You really do look beautiful," he says, his voice a little rough, but honest.
You meet his eyes in the mirror. He watches as the corner of your lips quirk up, and you look almost shy. It's adorable, and a little confusing, because usually, you're not so modest. He wonders what changed.
"I—thank you, Wrecker."
"And I'll keep sayin' it till you believe me," he adds, because it's true.
"Oh, I believe you," you laugh, and the sound warms him to the core.
"Yeah?"
You nod. "Yeah."
"Good. 'Cause you really do. You look—" Wrecker swallows, and then shakes his head. He's getting distracted, and it's not good, not when the two of you have a job to do.
"So do you."
You give his tie one last tug, and then take a step back. Your hands smooth down the front of your dress as you look down at your shoes. He can't tell, but he swears you look almost bashful. It's so unlike you that he wonders if you're actually okay.
"You sure you're good?" he asks, concerned.
You hum an affirmative, and then you mutter, “Just already looking forward to taking this off."
The words are mumbled, barely audible, and he doesn't think you intended for him to hear. Wrecker blinks, and his gaze travels down the length of your body, and his mouth goes dry. His mind can't help but wander. It would be so easy for him to reach out, hook his fingers in the thin straps holding your dress up, and just...
"Yeah, me too," Wrecker admits quietly, the words falling from his mouth without thought.
A second passes. Two.
Wrecker's brain catches up to his mouth. He sees the shift of your jaw and the bob of your throat, and he wishes the ground would swallow him up.
"Uh, yeah, I mean," Wrecker starts, trying to backtrack and failing, "because I hate this thing, and it's not very comfortable."
It's not the worst lie he's told, but it's pretty far up there. Still, the look of relief that crosses your face tells him you believe it. Your arms are crossed over your chest, holding yourself in a way that suggests you feel vulnerable, and the realization makes his gut twist.
Wrecker doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, and he feels terrible that he has. He didn't even realize that the dress, and the mission, could bother you. You always seemed so put together, and confident, and not bothered by much, that he just assumed you would be okay. But, you're not, and now he feels bad, and stupid.
"We don't have to do this," Wrecker offers, rubbing the back of his neck.
You shake your head, and he can see you forcing yourself to relax. "I can handle a few hours."
Wrecker isn't sure what to say. He knows you're capable, and he doesn't think you would offer if you didn't think you could do it, but the way you're standing makes him wonder.
"But you know if you don't wanna, that's fine too," he adds, because it is.
Hunter would probably give him an earful later, but you were the priority, and Wrecker would deal with whatever punishment was necessary to make sure you were safe and comfortable. He doubted Hunter would be mad, anyway. They're family, and family looked out for each other, and you were part of the team, too.
You look at him, and then down at the floor, and then back up at him.
"It's fine."
Wrecker bites his tongue, but only barely.
You're not fine, and he can tell, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out why. There's a reason you've always been the one chosen for missions like this, even back when you were still an intelligence officer and he was barely more than a shiny. It's not just because of your training and experience, but also because of the way you look.
The thought makes him angry. It isn't right, and he hates that you've been forced into this position. Until tonight, he'd held out some misguided hope that you wouldn't ever have to be put in a situation like this again.
He knows you can handle a lot more than most, but you shouldn't have to.
"Really, Wrecker, I'm fine," you say again, and it's only then that he realizes he's been staring at you.
"Are you sure? ‘Cause if—"
You step forward, putting a hand on his chest and looking up at him. His eyes catch on the shine of your lips, and the warmth of your hand against his chest makes his heart race.
"If you keep asking me, I'm gonna start to think you don't want to be my husband," you tease.
"I'd love to be your husband," Wrecker replies without missing a beat, and he means it.
The words are true, even if the context isn't. It's the closest thing he'll get to a wedding with you, and that thought makes him want to scream. Instead, he settles on smiling, even as his heart races and his palms sweat.
"I'm sorry, I just don't wanna make you feel—"
"I'm kidding, ma sareen," you say, shaking your head, "I know. But really, it's okay."
He gives a slow nod, not sure how to respond. You've called him that before, and while he doesn't speak Ryl, he does know it's a term of endearment. One that he's overhead Suu say to Cut a few times, and one that you've used with him, and only him.
Every time, it makes him smile. But it's one thing for you to say it casually, and another entirely to say it in front of strangers, pretending to be married to him. He doesn't know why the thought makes his heart pound in his chest, or his ears grow warm.
"And hey, at least I have someone who can protect me, right?"
He grins proudly, and nods. That, he can do.
"You got that right."
"Then what's there to worry about?" you ask, a smile on your face.
That I might embarrass you, is what Wrecker wants to say, but doesn't. Instead, he follows you towards the door. You pause just before stepping through, looking up at him expectantly. He doesn't quite understand until you reach out and hold your hand palm up.
"Well?"
"What?"
"Give me your hand, Wrecker," you laugh.
"Oh, right," Wrecker stutters, slipping his hand into yours.
His hands are rough and calloused from years of fighting, but your hand is soft and gentle, and he tries his best not to squeeze too hard. You lead him out of the room and to the lift. You lean against him, your head resting on his shoulder, and his breath catches in his throat.
"Relax, big guy, you've got this," you whisper, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.
Wrecker hopes you're right.
He's not sure how long the two of you have been here. An hour? Maybe two?
Whatever it is, it's long enough that his face hurts from fake smiling. His shoulders are tense, and he keeps a steady hand on your lower back, not willing to let go.
As soon as the two of you had walked through the door, the guards had taken your weapons, and it had been the first time Wrecker had felt truly unsettled since leaving the ship. Not only was he unarmed, but now, you were as well, and he was responsible for keeping you safe. They'd even taken the knife you'd tucked into the holster on your thigh.
They'd also frisked you, and while it wasn't the first time, or even the first time for him, it was the first time he'd seen it done like that. The guard had run his hands up the inside of your thigh, his thumb dangerously close to places he never should've been touching, and Wrecker had seen red.
The man was lucky all Wrecker did was grab his wrist and pull it away, his grip tight enough to bruise. The guard had stumbled, his face red as he tried and failed to apologize. It didn't matter to him. The bastard wouldn't be able to use that hand for a while, and Wrecker hadn't felt bad at all.
After, he'd wrapped his arm around your waist and held you close. He knows he probably shouldn't have, but he needed the reminder that you were safe. He could pretend it was just for show, but really, it was to comfort himself.
It doesn't help that every eye in the room has been on the two of you since you arrived, and while the stares are likely directed at you, Wrecker still doesn't like it. It makes his blood boil, and his skin crawl, and all he wants to do is get out of here. He hates how uncomfortable and vulnerable it makes him feel, and the fact that it's affecting him at all is embarrassing.
You seem to be doing just fine, chatting with various people, laughing and smiling and, unfortunately, flirting.
Not with him, no. With all the men and women around you.
It's the nature of the job, he knows that, but it still sucks.
You're doing your best to blend in, and it's working. He just tries his best to keep up with you. He doesn't trust any of these people, not even for a second, and the tension in his shoulders doesn't ease, no matter how hard he tries.
This is the first time he's been in a party like this, and he doesn't think he likes it.
When Tech had said the target was having a party, he'd expected loud music, maybe some dancing. What he got was an old-fashioned cocktail party, the type he's only ever seen in holovids, and the kind where the rich and powerful mingle and talk about politics and money.
It's boring, and the people are rude, and the lights of the chandelier make his eye twitch. But worst of all, no one can take their eyes off you, and he can't blame them. Even after the initial shock of seeing you dressed like that has passed, his eyes can't help but trail down the length of your body. And while you're definitely the most beautiful person in the room, he thinks there's a part of him that doesn't want anyone else to see you.
At least there's good food. And drink. And while he would never dare touch you without permission, it's nice to know he can do so now.
So he's taken every opportunity to do just that, to let everyone around know that you're his. He's kept his hand on the small of your back, the curve of your hip, the bend of your waist, and he's made sure to be close to you at all times. You don't seem to mind, which is the best part, and it makes his chest swell with pride.
Your arm is tucked around his, your fingers laced with his own, and he loves the way you lean into him, like you need him, like he's a safe place for you. He doesn't know if you do, but it doesn't stop him from wishing.
Wrecker looks at the ring on his finger. It's a simple gold band, nothing fancy, and it reminds him that this isn't real. It's just for the job, and he has to keep reminding himself of that. Because if he doesn't, it'll be easy for him to lose sight of that. And if he loses sight, he might do something stupid, like kiss you, and he's not sure if he'd be able to stop.
"So, where did you two meet?"
Wrecker tears his gaze away from you and to the Twi'lek across from him, her blue lekku adorned with jewels. He has no idea who she is, but the two of you are getting along so well he doesn't want to interrupt. You're the only Twi'leks in the room, and he thinks that might be the only reason the two of you are talking at all.
"Oh, it's a little embarrassing, actually," you answer, a shy smile on your face.
You squeeze his hand and glance up at him, and his stomach flutters.
"Not really," he mumbles, cheeks warm.
"You don't think so, but I might," you giggle, and Wrecker can't help the way his mouth quirks up in a smile. He wants to kiss your forehead, or your cheek, or your lips, but he doesn't.
The Twi'lek woman laughs and sips her drink, leaning in close to listen.
"C'mon, tell me, I'm dying to know."
Wrecker's not sure what story you've told everyone else, so he's not sure if this is part of it, but the way you look up at him makes his heart skip a beat. You squeeze his hand again, and he wonders if it's supposed to be a sign. It's a little distracting.
"Well, um, we met when he saved my life."
Wrecker nearly chokes on his drink.
The Twi'lek raises a brow, glancing between the two of you. "Really?"
"Mhm."
"That's not embarrassing."
"Yes, it is. Because he saved my life, and instead of being grateful, I called him an idiot," you tell her, a blush rising to your cheeks.
It's the truth. When you were still an officer, your unit was under fire. You'd been separated from your squad, pinned down, and Wrecker had found you. He'd pulled you from your hiding spot and out of the way, and the two of you had barely escaped unscathed. But the first words you'd said to him were, 'You idiot, you almost shot me.'
In his defense, he was a little distracted at the time.
"What did you say to that?"
Wrecker shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. "Not much."
You look up at him, your eyes shining. "I mean, he did save my life, so I apologized, obviously."
"Obviously," the woman nods.
"And, um, well," you stumble, and Wrecker wonders what's making you so nervous. It's not like you to be caught off guard, but you seem almost embarrassed. "He's the kindest man I've ever met, and I was immediately charmed by him."
Wrecker can't hide the surprise that crosses his face, but he does his best.
"It was hard not to fall for him," you admit, a softness in your voice that wasn't there before, "and, well, here we are."
Your gaze meets his, and the tenderness in your eyes takes his breath away.
"So romantic," the woman sighs, and you nod in agreement.
"Yeah, it's...it's somethin'," Wrecker says quietly, his chest tight.
He doesn't think anyone's ever talked about him like that, let alone in front of a bunch of strangers.
You lean into him, a soft smile on your face. Wrecker's hand slides from your waist to rest on the small of your back, and his eyes linger on the curve of your lip, the slight shimmer on your cheek. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your eyes drop down to watch the motion, and his heart thuds against his ribcage.
He can't help but wonder if maybe there's some truth to what you're saying. It's not like you've been lying the entire time, and Wrecker isn't naïve. He knows this is all part of the act, but the way you're looking at him makes him feel like you might mean it.
Wrecker can't help the way his mind wanders, or the way his stomach flutters when your lips brush his ear as you whisper, "You alright, darling?"
His breath hitches in his throat, and it's hard not to shudder as you trail a finger up his arm.
"Yeah, m'fine," he manages, the words shaky.
Your lips brush the shell of his ear, and he has to fight the urge to groan.
"We've got company," you whisper.
Wrecker tenses, scanning the room. It takes a moment for him to realize you mean the target. He's making his way through the crowd, and it's only a matter of moments before he's approaching.
"Mr. and Mrs. Kasta," he greets, an air of confidence in his voice, "welcome."
Wrecker nods at him, keeping his mouth shut. He doesn't trust himself not to say something stupid. He's already fucked up a few times tonight, and he doesn't want to embarrass himself. Besides, you're already taking the lead, smiling brightly at the man.
"Thank you for having us, Mr. Dralig," you tell him, giving a slight bow.
"Please, call me Bohme," he insists, returning the gesture. "Always a pleasure to meet such an esteemed couple as yourselves. You look ravishing, Mrs. Kasta."
You blush, and Wrecker fights the urge to roll his eyes. You are the most stunning woman in the room, and he can't imagine how this asshole could think otherwise, but the compliment still makes him bristle. He can't understand why you don't seem more annoyed.
"Well, thank you," you say, a hint of laughter in your voice.
"I do hope you're enjoying yourselves," Bohme continues, "the food, the music, the view."
The man's eyes linger on you for a moment too long, and Wrecker doesn't have to be a genius to figure out what he means.
"Oh, yes, very much so," you reply easily, ignoring the implication, "thank you."
Bohme nods, and then turns his attention to Wrecker, giving him a quick once-over. Wrecker tenses. The man is short and thin, his features pinched and pale, but his eyes are sharp, and his mouth is curved up in a smile that's almost predatory.
"I must say, I was a little surprised when I learned the Kastas would be joining us tonight. I was told they were unable to make it."
Wrecker narrows his eyes, watching the man carefully.
"Yes, well, our schedules opened up, and my husband was able to move some things around. It's rare we get a night off, so I jumped at the chance," you tell him, reaching out to grab Wrecker's arm and squeeze it.
He's glad you're playing the part so well. It's definitely not something he's capable of, and he can't help but feel a little useless. But he can at least make sure you're not alone, and that this guy keeps his hands off you.
"Well, I'm glad you could make it."
"We're glad we could too. The party's been wonderful."
"Glad to hear it."
Wrecker shifts slightly, feeling the weight of the man's gaze. There's something unsettling about him, and Wrecker's never been able to hide his disdain for the people they're forced to work for. But Bohme's the mark, and so he tries his best not to stare, but he's never been good at playing nice.
"If I'm being honest, I thought the rumors were exaggerated."
Wrecker frowns, and you look a little surprised.
"Oh?"
"I see the scars aren't," Bohme adds, gesturing to Wrecker's face.
Wrecker doesn't reply, only glares. The scars have never bothered him, not really. Sure, sometimes people stare, or ask him about them, and sometimes that's more than a little awkward. But he doesn't hate them. He mostly just forgets they're there until he gets one of the phantom pains, or someone points them out.
This man, though, he's staring, and not with curiosity, but with judgement, and it makes Wrecker’s skin crawl. He clenches his jaw, looking for the words to tell him off that won’t make the entire operation fail, but thankfully, you're quicker than him.
"No, but I quite like them," you say, reaching up and brushing a hand over his scarred cheek.
Wrecker swallows, his head tilting down to meet your gaze. Your touch is gentle, your thumb brushing under his eye, and he watches as your eyes shift from cold fury to something warmer, kinder.
"They remind me of just how brave and selfless my husband is," you tell him, the words soft, almost as if they're just for him.
Wrecker blinks, his lips parting. He wants to respond, but his throat is dry, and he's not sure what he would say even if he could.
"And I would be lost without him," you add, your fingers sliding across his jaw.
He knows this isn't real, that it's just for show, and he's just a means to an end, but he can't help the way his heart races in his chest. Because the way you're looking at him isn't fake, and neither are your words. He doesn't know how he's so sure, but he is.
He can't find his voice, and he doesn't trust himself to speak, so instead, he takes your hand and presses his lips to the inside of your wrist. You gasp, and your mouth parts, and he's so focused on the warmth of your skin and the way you blush that he barely registers the sound of Bohme's laughter.
"Oh, to be young and in love."
Wrecker doesn't pay attention to the rest of the conversation. He doesn't care. All he can focus on is you. The way you look up at him, and the softness in your eyes. The way you're pressed against him, and the way his arm is wrapped around you, and the way it feels like you belong there.
You've always felt right in his arms, like you fit perfectly, and every time you touch him, he wonders if it's the last. That's how it is now. Like it could end at any moment. So, he's memorizing everything, every detail, the feel of your skin, the sound of your voice, the scent of your perfume.
Because when this is all over, he'll never be close to you like this again, and he'll never forget it.
"Ma sareen."
He snaps out of his trance at the sound of your voice. "Hmm?"
"Could you be a dear and get me a drink?"
"Sure thing, sweetheart."
Wrecker leans in, pressing his lips to your temple, and he relishes the way your cheeks turn red and the sound of your breath hitching in your throat. He doesn't know what he's doing. All he knows is that it's worth it to see the look on your face, and the way Bohme looks like he's swallowed a lemon.
He gives your waist a gentle squeeze and turns, making his way through the crowd to the bar. It's the furthest place from the door, and the longest walk of his life, because his head is swimming, and his heart is pounding, and it’s giving him too much time to think.
And when he does, all he can think about is you. He's not blind. He can see the way you've been looking at him tonight, and the way you're touching him. It's driving him crazy, and the more time he spends here with you, the harder it is to convince himself that you don't feel the same.
Maybe you do feel the same, and he's just been missing the signs, too afraid to see them. Maybe he should do something about it.
The thought is scary. What if he does, and he's wrong?
But then he remembers the way your fingers slid across his cheek, the way you leaned into his side, and the way you blush whenever he calls you sweetheart. It's enough to give him hope.
"What can I get for you?" the bartender asks.
Wrecker blinks, glancing down at him. He'd forgotten why he was here, and his cheeks warm as he fumbles for an answer. Champagne seems like the right call for you. You'd both had a few glasses earlier, and it was fine, but he needed something much stronger if he was going to have a chance at getting through the rest of the night.
"Whiskey, neat.”
He doesn't pay attention as the bartender pours his drink. He turns around toward where couples are dancing, scanning the room for you. When he finally finds you, his stomach twists, and he has to force himself to breathe.
Bohme has his hands on your hips, and your hand is on his chest, and the way his head dips toward yours sends a flash of anger through him. The two of you are dancing, swaying back and forth, and while Wrecker knows it's a mission, and that you're just playing a part, it still makes his stomach churn.
Because even from here, he can see the look in the man's eyes, and it's not one of someone who's just playing a part.
"Is that all?" the bartender asks.
"What—no, no. Give me another," Wrecker mutters, grabbing the first glass and downing it in a single gulp.
It burns his throat, but it's the distraction he needs, because the two of you are getting closer. He's not sure if Bohme is going in for a kiss, but he knows he's not going to be able to watch it happen.
The second glass goes down just as quickly, and Wrecker winces, slamming the glass back on the bar and turning around. He doesn't know what's come over him. He's not a jealous person. Never has been, not even a little. He's been on plenty of missions with you, and seen you get close with other men, and while he didn't like it, he's never felt this.
Wrecker pushes past the dancing couples and walks toward the two of you. As soon as Bohme's hand slides lower on your back, Wrecker knows it's too much. You've gone along with the plan, but Wrecker's not going to stand here and watch you be taken advantage of, not by him, or anyone.
He storms up to the two of you, ignoring the startled looks on your faces and those around you. Before he can even think about what he's doing, Wrecker wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close. His hand settles on your lower back, your skin warm and soft against his palm.
"Can I cut in?" he growls, his voice low and gruff.
"Uh—"
"I was talking to my wife," Wrecker snaps, his eyes narrowed.
The man's face pales, and his mouth drops open. He glances down at you, and then back up at Wrecker, and then steps back, holding his hands up in surrender.
You press your hand to his chest, and the motion is so familiar and comforting that his shoulders relax. He looks down at you, and his breath catches in his throat. There's a hint of a smile on your face, and you look happy, and his stomach flutters.
"Of course, darling," you murmur, your fingers curling into his shirt, "we were just having a nice chat, weren't we, Bohme?"
Wrecker glares at the man.
"Yeah, sure, we were," the man replies, taking a step back.
Wrecker knows he should leave it alone, and let you take care of it, but the whiskey has loosened his tongue, and the man's wandering hands have left him feeling more than a little possessive.
"Don't get any ideas, pal. She's married," Wrecker tells him, his voice a deep growl.
He's being harsh, but he doesn't care. You've had to deal with this asshole enough for one night, and Wrecker's tired of watching him touch you, and talk to you, and look at you.
"Of course, I would never," Bohme says, shaking his head.
Wrecker's not convinced, but he's not going to start a fight over it. As much as he'd like to knock the guy's teeth in, he doesn't. For your sake. And for the mission's, though he's caring less and less about that as the night goes on.
"You alright, sweetheart?" Wrecker asks, his tone gentler, more concerned, as he leads you away.
"I'm fine, darling," you answer, giving his arm a squeeze.
He's not sure if he's imagining it, but he swears you sound a little breathy. Wrecker's not surprised. If his heart is racing from the adrenaline of pulling you away from Bohme, then yours probably is, too.
"Sorry I forgot your drink," he mutters as he picks up his pace, "that guy just rubs me the wrong way."
"It's okay," you say, looking up at him with a small smile. As the two of you get further and further away, you add, "I was kind of hoping you would."
He stops walking, his brow furrowing. "What?"
"Nothing, ma sareen."
"Wait, were you—" Wrecker glances over his shoulder, and the realization hits him. You'd known the whole time, and were counting on him to notice, and he had. He's not sure if he should be mad, or embarrassed, or something else entirely. "Oh."
You tilt your head, looking up at him with an amused expression. "Yeah, oh."
"That's why you wanted a drink, wasn't it?"
You bite your lip, a blush rising to your cheeks. "Well, I was thirsty."
"I—"
"I knew you wouldn't leave me alone with him."
"I wouldn't," he says, shaking his head, "not in a million years."
You look down, and his grip on you tightens. He doesn't mean to, but he's still shaken up, and your nearness is a comfort, even if it shouldn't be.
You lean into him, and he takes a step forward, pulling you close. His other hand comes up, his fingers brushing your cheek, and his eyes drop to your lips. He doesn't mean to touch you like this, but now that he has, he doesn't want to stop.
"I know," you say softly, your breath warm against his palm.
"Good," he murmurs.
Your hand slips down his chest, and Wrecker shudders. You're standing so close, and your face is only inches from his, and your eyes are shining. The words leave him before he stop them, his voice a low rumble.
"And I don't want anyone else touching you, either.”
The sound that leaves your mouth sends a rush of heat through his veins, and he has to fight the urge to kiss you.
"Good," you whisper, the word nearly lost to the music.
"Really?"
You nod, looking up at him through your lashes, and his heart skips a beat. "Mhm."
Wrecker lets out a shaky breath, his hand sliding down to cup your cheek. His lips are only inches from yours, and he's not sure if it's the alcohol or the dress, but he feels bold. Too bold.
"Then, is it okay if I—"
You press a finger to his lips, silencing him.
"Yes," you tell him, leaning closer, "but not here."
Wrecker freezes. Did he hear that right? Or is he imagining things?
"Why not?"
"Because," you start slowly, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "if you kiss me, I'm not going to want you to stop. And we're in the middle of a party, and the mission's not over."
Wrecker doesn't even realize his mouth has fallen open until you reach up and close it for him. Your touch is gentle, and his cheeks are warm, and the softness in your eyes makes him melt.
Your hand drags down to adjust his lapel before you slip something into his pocket.
"Got his keycard," you whisper, patting his chest.
Wrecker doesn't care. You could've told him you'd stolen the man's starship, and it still wouldn't have mattered. Not with the way you're looking at him.
"You're really somethin', y'know that?" he asks, and if he sounds a little breathless, he doesn't care about that either.
"So are you, ma sareen," you answer, smiling softly, "so are you."
"Almost done," you say, your voice soft, but urgent.
Wrecker is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze locked on you. He's careful not to touch anything in Bohme's office as you make your way around. His eyes are on the sway of your hips, and the soft curves of your body, and it's all he can do not to reach out and pull you against him.
You'd managed to slip away, and while Wrecker is a little disappointed the two of you had to leave, he knows the sooner you're finished, the sooner you can be alone.
"Anythin' you need help with, sweetheart?"
"No," you answer, "I got it."
You're bent over, looking for something, and the view gives him a perfect view of the curve of your ass. It's a bit distracting, and his mind is wandering. He's thinking about how nice it would be to hold you in his arms, and kiss you, and the things he would like to do if he had the opportunity.
The list is getting longer by the minute.
"Just need a few more seconds."
"I'm not in a rush," he answers with a shrug. His eyes are locked on your ass, and the way it moves as you work. You'd asked him to keep watch, and that's what he's doing, just keeping watch.
"Yes, you are," you say, a teasing lilt in your voice.
"Maybe," he admits, not bothering to deny it.
He doesn't care if it's a little pathetic, or desperate. He doesn't want to hide his feelings anymore. Not from you, and not from himself. He wants you to know, and to understand.
You glance over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his. You're wearing a smile that makes his stomach flutter.
"What are you thinking about?" you ask, a sultry note to your voice that makes his head spin. You walk over to the lamp on the wall and unscrew the glass. One of the bugs Tech had given you slips into the empty socket before you replace the bulb.
Wrecker blinks, his mind foggy.
"You."
You look surprised, and for a moment, he wonders if he's gone too far. But then, you smile, and he knows he's made the right choice. "Yeah? What about me?"
"Just how lucky I am," he tells you, the words sincere.
"Lucky?" you ask, raising a brow.
"Mhm."
You shake your head, letting out a soft laugh. "I think I'm the lucky one."
"I dunno. Pretty sure I'm the one who gets to take you home," Wrecker points out, a grin on his face.
Your eyes widen, and your lips part, and for a moment, you just stare at him, stunned. You let out a shaky breath, your face falling, and it's then that Wrecker realizes his mistake. You’re worth more to him than a quick roll in the sheets, and while he wants you, and the thought of it makes him hot and bothered, he's not interested in a one-night stand.
"I, uh, I didn't mean it like that," he stutters, his cheeks growing warm. “I—“
"Don't worry, darling, I know what you meant," you say, a hint of disappointment in your voice.
"It's not like—"
"We should go, Wrecker. The others are waiting."
"Right," Wrecker says quietly.
He doesn't like the tension in your shoulders, or the way you won't look at him. He's not sure what to say to fix this. All he knows is that the moment is over, and his heart is pounding.
When the two of you step out of the office, the door slides shut behind you, and he grabs your wrist. You don't stop, and you don't turn around. But you don't pull away, either.
"Hey, c'mon, just wait a sec, please."
You stop, letting out a quiet sigh. "It's okay, Wrecker, you don't have to—"
"But I want to."
You look up at him, your jaw set, and there's something in your eyes that tells him you don't believe him. It breaks his heart a little. Because it's true. He's been wanting you for a long time, and even if you don't feel the same, he's not going to let you leave without knowing it.
Wrecker takes a step toward you, and another, and another, until he's pressed against you. He lets go of your wrist, and his hand settles on your waist.
"Wrecker, what are you doing?"
"Trying not to be an idiot."
"You're not an—"
"Yeah, I am," he interrupts, a soft smile on his face. "I'm not good with words, and I don't always know the right thing to say. But I'm gonna try."
"Wrecker," you whisper, your eyes wide, "you don't have to."
"But I want to. I wanna tell you the truth."
"The truth?"
He nods.
"And what's that?"
"That I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever met," he tells you, his voice soft. "I think you're the bravest, and the kindest, and the smartest. I think you're the best, and I wish I was half the person you are."
"Wrecker, you're—"
He squeezes your waist gently. "Not done yet."
You smile up at him, a fondness in your eyes that makes his heart race, and you nod.
"And I know I don't deserve you, and I know you're probably just being nice, and that maybe, I'm reading into this too much, but I don't think so."
You look like you want to interrupt him again, but you don't. He's grateful.
"I think there's something here. Between us,” he says. “And I've never been good at keeping my feelings to myself. I think about you all the time, and I can't help it.”
"Wrecker, are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"I dunno.” He shrugs. “Maybe. Probably."
You shake your head, laughing. "Wrecker, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to tell me you have feelings for me."
"Well, that's because I do."
"What?" you ask, sounding almost as surprised as he felt earlier.
"Have feelings for you. I have a lot of 'em," he tells you, a smile on his face. It feels good to finally admit it. "I've had them for a while."
"How long?"
"Pretty much since I met you."
"Really?"
He nods. "Really."
"That's...a long time," you murmur.
"Mhm. So, that's the truth," Wrecker says. "And if you don't feel the same, or if I'm wrong, or if I'm misreading things, then just tell me, and I'll never bring it up again."
"I don't think I could," you answer, "not now, after all that."
"So, then, maybe—"
"Wrecker," you whisper, his tie and pulling him closer. Your lips brush his, and he has to fight the urge to groan. "I have a lot of feelings, too. I just didn't know you did."
"Yeah?" he asks, his voice hoarse.
"Yeah," you breathe, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
He doesn't bother fighting the groan this time. He can't. Not when you're this close. Not when he can feel your breath against his skin. Not when your lips are ghosting over his, and the scent of your perfume is filling his nose, and the warmth of your body is pressed against him.
"Then, does this mean—"
"You can kiss me," you murmur.
Wrecker doesn't hesitate.
His mouth crashes against yours, his hands slipping down to your hips and pulling you against him. You let out a whimper, and it's all he can do not to moan.
He doesn't want to push too far, or scare you away, so he holds back. He kisses you with restraint, with tenderness, with love. Your lips are soft, and pliant, and your fingers tighten in his shirt as he deepens the kiss. It's even better than he imagined, and he's spent hours imagining it.
He doesn't care that anyone could see you. He doesn't care about the mission, or the bugs, or the fact that the others are waiting for you. He only cares about you, and the way you feel in his arms.
"Wrecker," you mumble, breaking the kiss.
"Hm?"
"We should go," you remind him, your voice soft.
"Right," he says, "just one more."
"One more," you agree.
Your lips are on his again, and it's just as good as the first time. Wrecker doesn't want to stop, and he doesn't, not until his comm buzzes, and his brother's voice rings out in his ear.
"Wrecker, status report. We need an update."
Wrecker groans, pulling away from you. "Tech, not a good time."
"Now is precisely the time," his brother replies, sounding exasperated. "What is the status of the mission?"
Wrecker glances at you, and you look back up at him with a soft smile on your swollen lips. You reach up, cupping his cheek, and the feeling is so comforting and sweet that his chest aches.
"It's good," Wrecker answers, smiling. "The mission is going really good."
"Good?" he hears Hunter repeat. He's not sure if it's confusion or disbelief in his voice. Maybe a little bit of both.
"Great," he corrects, leaning down to kiss you again. "Really, really great."
"Oh," Tech mutters, and Wrecker can hear the gears turning in his head. "I…did not expect that."
Wrecker smiles down at you. "Yeah, well, neither did I."
“I see.” There's a pause, and the sound of shuffling, some muffled voices, and then Tech adds, "In that case, we will let you get back to your, ah, mission."
"Thanks, Tech."
"Mhm," his brother hums, sounding a little awkward. "You’re welcome. We'll see you both when you return.”
The comm clicks off, and Wrecker sighs. "Guess we should get back to the ship."
"Yeah, we probably should," you agree, though neither of you move. "Or..."
He perks up. "Or?"
"Or, we could go back to the hotel," you suggest, a playful note in your voice. "We did pay for the night, after all. It would be a shame to waste it."
"A real shame," he nods, his voice grave.
"Besides," you add, your hand sliding down his chest, "we could use the extra time to...discuss the details of the mission. Make sure we're on the same page, and everything."
Wrecker bites back a moan. The feeling of your hand on his chest, and the sound of your voice, and the suggestion in your words, and the glint in your eyes. It's enough to make his knees weak.
"What do you think, ma sareen?"
"I think," he murmurs, kissing your neck, "that's the best idea I've ever heard."
The two of you barely make it through the door.
As soon as it slides shut behind you, Wrecker’s lips are on yours. His hands haven’t left your hips since you entered the elevator. He guides you backwards, his hands roaming across your back and sides. His teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and the sound you make sends a rush of heat straight to his cock.
Your back hits the wall next to the door, and Wrecker lifts you up, wedging a thigh between your legs. The dress is riding up, and his hand slips under it, and he's never been more grateful for Tech's insistence on getting a hotel room.
His tongue slides across the roof of your mouth, and he swallows the gasp that leaves your lips. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and you roll your hips, grinding against his thigh. The sound that leaves his mouth is embarrassingly needy as his hand moves higher, squeezing the soft flesh. Your knife has been safely returned to its holster, and his fingers run along the strap.
He wants to take his time with you, to make sure you know how he feels, but he can't stop touching you. You’re so soft, and he's been wanting to do this for so long, and the dress makes it so easy to find new places to explore.
"Wrecker," you whimper, arching against him.
He nips at your neck, and the soft whine that escapes your throat makes his knees weak. His hand squeezes the back of your leg, and his mouth travels lower, his teeth dragging across your collarbone.
"You look so fuckin' good in this," he tells you, his lips brushing the swell of your breasts. "Drivin' me crazy."
"Yeah?" you ask, reaching up to loosen his tie.
"Yeah," he grunts. He leans down, pressing his mouth to the tops of your breasts. You make a soft noise, and he smiles, his hand slipping up your thigh and pushing the hem of the dress higher. "Been thinkin' about taking it off all night.”
"Well, why don't you, then?"
Wrecker pulls away, and you look up at him, your eyes half-lidded and dark. Your cheeks are flushed, and your chest is rising and falling, and you look so fucking gorgeous, he can't stand it.
He doesn't respond. His lips find yours again, and he pushes your skirt up higher, his hands bunching the smooth fabric. He tries his best to be gentle, but it's hard. The thought of ripping the dress from your body, tearing it off and tossing it to the side is appealing, but he won't. It's not his to ruin, and he doesn't want to make you mad.
"This okay?" he asks, breaking the kiss.
"Yeah," you answer, nodding. Your hands join his, and together you pull the dress over your head, and toss it aside.
He nearly drops you.
He doesn't, but it's a close thing.
"You—oh, fuck," he groans, his head falling to the crook of your neck, "you weren't wearin' anythin' underneath?"
You let out a breathless laugh, and the feeling of it makes his head spin.
"Surprised?"
"Uh, yeah."
He's not sure what to say, or what to do.
The only thing he can think about is the way your bare pussy is pressed against his thigh. Your nails drag across his scalp, and he shudders. He’s pretty sure his brain is short-circuiting, because all he can do is stare at you.
Your makeup is messy, your headpiece a little crooked, and your chest is rising and falling in short, shallow breaths, and you're looking up at him with a smirk that makes him want to drop to his knees and worship you.
"What's wrong?" you ask, tilting his chin up. "You can't talk now?"
Wrecker grunts. You're teasing him, and he can't even pretend he doesn't like it. He likes it too much.
"You're not playin' fair," he complains, his voice gruff.
"No?"
"Nope."
"Well, neither are you," you say, rolling your hips. The motion drags your pussy across his thigh, and the dampness on his skin has him groaning. You lean forward, your mouth next to his ear. "So, what are you gonna do about it?"
He growls, and you gasp as his hands slide down, grabbing your ass. He hoists you up, putting your chest level with his face.
"Gonna show you," he rasps, "just how much you drive me crazy."
He's never seen anything hotter than the way you're looking at him right now, and he's not sure he ever will. He doesn’t want to close his eyes, doesn’t want to blink, but he can’t help it when his tongue darts out and his lips close around one of your nipples.
The soft sound that escapes your mouth makes his cock throb, and he presses your back against the wall, holding you up with ease with one hand as the other comes up to fondle your other breast. His tongue is hot and insistent against your skin, and your breath catches in your throat when he drags his teeth across the sensitive flesh.
"Fuck," you hiss, arching into him.
"Told ya you look good," he mumbles. He nips at the swell of your breast, and a moan escapes your lips. "Good enough to eat."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm," he hums. "Can I?"
"Please."
You let out a squeak as he hikes you up further, his lips ghosting over your ribs, and then your sternum, and then the soft swell of your stomach. Your thighs are draped over his shoulders, and his hands are on the backs of your legs, holding them up and apart, and the sight of you above him is almost too much.
"You smell so fuckin' good," he growls, burying his face between your thighs.
You're already wet, and his nose bumps against your clit as he presses his mouth to your pussy. You're so warm, and soft, and when his tongue slides against you, you moan, the sound desperate and needy.
"Shit, Wrecker," you gasp, your hands coming down to grab his head.
"Just relax," he tells you, his tone a little patronizing. "I gotcha, sweetheart."
He dives in, his mouth eager and unrelenting. He licks and sucks and nips at the sensitive skin, and when his tongue pushes inside, you arch your back, rolling your hips. Your thighs squeeze around his head, and the noises that are leaving your lips are sending sparks down his spine.
He does it again, and again, and again, trying to coax more of those sounds from your mouth. He wants to see what he can get you to do, wants to know what makes you cry out, and moan, and scream.
You're trembling above him, and your pussy is so wet, he can feel it running down his chin.
"Oh, fuck," you curse, and he can't help but grin.
Your hips buck against his face, and he grabs your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. His fingers sink into the plush skin, and he spreads you apart, his tongue circling your clit. You shudder, and your thighs tighten around his head. He can tell you're getting close, and he can't wait to feel you fall apart, to see your face twist in pleasure, and hear his name on your lips.
He's never been good at this. He's always felt a little out of his depth, a little awkward, a little clumsy. But he's learning. He's watching your reactions, listening to the sounds you make, feeling the way your body responds. And he's paying attention, because he wants to be the only person who can make you feel like this.
He knows it's possessive. He knows it's a lot, especially since the two of you haven't talked about what this means. But he doesn't care. Not right now. He just wants you, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that's what happens.
You're writhing above him, and he can feel the muscles in your thighs tensing as his lips close around your clit. He makes sure he's got a good grip on you with one hand before sliding the other in between your thighs, and he pushes one finger inside you, and then another.
"Wrecker!"
He's pretty sure that's the hottest thing he's ever heard.
He doubles his efforts, his fingers pushing deeper and deeper. He's not even sure if he's hitting the right spot, but from the way you're writhing, and moaning, and cursing, it seems like he's doing something right. Your walls are squeezing his fingers, and he curls them, trying to find the spot that will make you scream.
You do.
Your whole body tenses, your thighs clamping hard around his head, and you throw your head back, crying out. He watches in awe, his eyes wide, and his mouth slack as you come apart above him. He can feel it, can feel your walls tightening, and the rush of heat as you climax, and he can’t resist the urge to press a kiss to the soft, swollen flesh.
"Wrecker," you choke out, your voice cracking, and he knows he's never going to get enough of this.
He keeps his fingers buried inside of you as he pulls away from the wall. You cling to him, and he carries you over to the bed, lowering you onto the mattress. His fingers slip out of you, and he watches in fascination as you clench around nothing, your body still trembling.
"Fuck," he groans, dropping to his knees and burying his head between your legs again.
You let out a noise of surprise, and his hands push your thighs open, keeping them spread wide.
"You did so good, sweetheart," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your swollen lips. He licks you clean, his tongue swiping through your folds. You squirm, and his grip on you tightens. "Gonna make you come again."
"Oh," you whimper, letting out a shaky breath.
"Just breathe, cyar'ika," he tells you, his lips trailing up your inner thigh. He can't get enough of the taste of you, or the way your body is reacting. You're still shaking, and the knowledge that it's because of him is making him delirious. He's pretty sure this is the best night of his life.
"I'm gonna make you feel good," he says, his voice soft and low. "I promise."
"You always make me feel good, Wrecker," you whisper.
"Yeah?"
"Mhm," you hum, nodding. "Always."
Wrecker grins and leans back, shoving his suit jacket off his shoulders. He's not sure where you want him, or how far you want to take things, but he's happy to follow your lead. He’s happy to do this all night, every night, for the rest of his life, if you asked.
He unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and rolls up the sleeves, his eyes never leaving you. You're looking up at him, your cheeks flushed, your chest rising and falling. He can't believe he gets to see you like this, so vulnerable and trusting.
"What is it?" you ask with a tilt of your head. The motion moves your lekku, and Wrecker's gaze follows. He's fascinated by the way they shift, and sway, and twitch. He wonders what they feel like, if you’ll let him touch them, if they're as sensitive as he's heard.
"Nothin'," he answers, shrugging.
"Liar."
"No, really," he says. Then, a grin spreads across his face, and he can't help himself, "I just like lookin' at ya."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm."
"What about me do you like looking at, ma sareen?"
"Everything," he tells you, and the sincerity in his voice seems to catch you off guard. "Everythin' about you. You're gorgeous, and I'm lucky as hell."
"Wrecker, you're not just saying that, are you?"
"Never," he promises, "not when it comes to you."
You bite your lip, and the way your teeth sink into the plump flesh sends a rush of heat through him.
"You're too good to me," you mumble, a fondness in your eyes that makes his heart swell.
"Could never be too good to you," he replies quickly, shaking his head. He pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and leans back down, kissing the curve of your stomach.
"Wrecker," you sigh, your hands settling on his shoulders, "you're such a gentleman."
"A gentleman?" He laughs, his forehead resting against your hip.
"Mhm," you hum.
He glances up at you, his brows raised. "Sweetheart, I've had my face between your legs for the past fifteen minutes, and you're tellin' me I'm a gentleman?"
"Maybe I like a man who knows how to treat me," you suggest.
"Yeah?"
"Mhm."
Wrecker chuckles, and then he kisses the top of your mound, and then the crease of your thigh, and then your knee. You make a soft noise, and his eyes flick back to your face.
"So, do you still want me to keep treatin' you?" he asks, and if the words come out a little nervous, he can't help it.
"Of course," you say, a hint of surprise in your voice, as if you can't believe he would think otherwise. You smile sweetly, and the weight in his chest lifts. "I want everything with you, Wrecker. Always."
"Good," he sighs, the tension leaving his body. "Because I want everythin', too."
Your head falls back against the pillows, your hands slipping from his shoulders to his head. You pull him closer, and he's more than happy to follow your lead.
"Then, come on, darling," you murmur, lifting your hips and spreading your legs wider, "give me everything."
Wrecker swallows thickly.
"Yes, ma'am."
His mouth is on you again, and you don't hesitate to let him know how good he's doing. You're not shy, and you're not quiet, and you're not afraid to take what you want.
And, gods, does Wrecker like that.
He's still a little in awe, a little dumbstruck by the fact that this is happening, and that it's not just some fantasy he's making up in his head. This is real, and you're here, and you're enjoying yourself, and the sound of your voice, the way you move, the softness of your body is so fucking overwhelming, it's making him delirious.
He wants to do this every night, for the rest of his life.
Your scent fills his nose, and your taste coats his tongue, and the slick, wet noises his mouth makes as he eats you out are driving him crazy. You're shaking beneath him, and your legs are draped over his shoulders, and your nails are scraping against his scalp. Your heels dig into his back, and his hands move down, holding you steady. He's not stopping until you tell him to, and from the way you're moaning, he doesn't think that's going to be anytime soon.
"You're so fucking hot," he groans, his teeth scraping against your folds. "Gonna make you come again. Gonna get you nice and ready for me."
You whimper, and he knows he's made the right choice.
"Sound good?" he asks, voice muffled by your cunt.
"Mhm," you nod.
"Yeah?"
"Yes," you moan, "yes, please, please, I want you to fuck me."
"Oh, I'm gonna," he growls, his lips brushing against your clit, "but first, I'm gonna make you scream."
He's not sure where he found the confidence, but he doesn't care. He doesn't even notice. He's too busy trying to get you to come for him again. He's licking, and sucking, and kissing, and nibbling, and it's only when you're begging him to fuck you that he finally pulls away for air.
"Not yet," he says, pressing a kiss to the crease of your thigh.
"Please," you whimper, "please, Wrecker, I need it. Need you."
He chuckles, his stubble scratching against the inside of your thigh. "I know, sweetheart, I know. Not yet, though. Just a little more."
He slips two fingers inside you, curling them, and your whole body jolts.
"Wrecker, please, I'm so fucking wet, just—"
"I know," he grins, pumping his fingers in and out of you. Your pussy is soaked, and the sound of him fingering you is obscene. It makes him want to shove his cock into you, to feel how tight and warm you are. "Gettin' you nice and wet for me."
"Don't—don't tease me," you huff, and Wrecker laughs, kissing your clit.
"I'm not," he insists. "Just tryin' to make sure you're ready."
"Ready?"
"Mhm." He pushes his fingers deeper, and he can feel the way your walls are already fluttering, the way your muscles are twitching. You're close, and he can't wait to see what you look like when you fall apart. "Wanna make sure you can take me."
"I can," you assure him, "please, I can."
"I'm gonna make you come again," he says, his voice soft. "And then, when you're all nice and relaxed, and you're beggin' for my cock, that's when I'm gonna fuck you."
"I'm begging now," you whine.
"I know, baby," he murmurs, his tongue pressing flat against your clit. "Be patient. It'll be worth it, I promise."
"Okay," you say, and the sound comes out strangled, like it's hard for you to talk. The way your voice breaks, and your chest rises and falls has him grinning, and he leans down again, his mouth eager and insistent.
"Fuck," you gasp, "oh, fuck, Wrecker, I'm—I'm gonna—"
"Go ahead," he encourages, his voice husky, "lemme see.”
Your head falls back, your whole body trembling as you come for the second time that night. It's even more beautiful than the first, and the way you pull his fingers deeper has him moaning against you. He doesn't stop until you're pushing him away, and even then, he doesn't go far.
Wrecker pulls back, slowly, his eyes on yours. You're breathing heavily, and your cheeks are flushed. Somewhere along the way the headpiece you were wearing had come loose, and it's resting on the pillow next to you. Your eyes are hooded, a dazed look on your face, and you look absolutely gorgeous.
"That was so fucking hot," he tells you, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh.
"Wrecker, that was..." you trail off, letting out a quiet sigh. "I've never come twice that fast before."
"Really?"
You shake your head, laughing breathlessly. "Nope."
"So, I guess I did a good job?"
"Good?" you repeat, looking almost offended. "Darling, it was incredible."
He grins wide and presses a kiss to your stomach. You cup his cheek, and your thumb brushes his lip. It's damp with your arousal, and the realization sends a wave of heat through him.
"I'm just glad I made you feel good," he says.
"Trust me, you did," you assure him, and the earnestness in your voice has his cheeks flushing.
"Glad to hear it," he murmurs. He nips at the underside of your breast, and you whimper.
"Wrecker," you mumble.
"Mhm?"
"Come here."
"Why?"
"Because," you answer, sitting up and grabbing his tie, "I want to kiss you."
He lets out a laugh. "Is that all?"
"No," you say, and the honesty in your tone makes him shiver. You tug on the tie, pulling him towards you until your lips meet in a messy kiss. He's careful not to put his weight on you, keeping most of it on his forearms as he presses closer. Your tongue is hot and insistent against his, and when your teeth scrape his bottom lip, a groan escapes his throat.
"Please," you mumble against his lips. "Please, Wrecker, fuck me."
“Was hoping you’d say that,” he grunts, a smirk on his face.
He kisses you again, and it's rough and needy and a little clumsy. Your hands are roaming across his back, and when they tug on his shirt, he reaches around, pulling the hem out of his pants and working the buttons open.
He doesn't have the patience to undo them all, so he tears the shirt and tie off and tosses them aside. He breathes a sigh of relief at finally being free from the restrictive fabric, only to suck in a sharp breath as your nails scrape his sides. The sensation sends a shiver through him, and he buries his head in the crook of your neck, panting.
You don't let up, your hands exploring the planes and divots of his bare chest. His skin is on fire, and his muscles are flexing beneath your touch. Your mouth finds his neck as your fingers move to undo his belt, and his whole body jolts.
You hum, pleased, and Wrecker knows he's in trouble.
Your teeth sink into his shoulder, and your tongue swipes over the marks, and when you press a kiss to his pulse point, he has to remind himself not to get carried away. He's not even inside you yet, and he's already on the verge of losing control.
"Wrecker, I'm tired of waiting," you whine, your hand sliding under his pants and squeezing his ass. "I need you."
"Shit," he curses, his cock twitching in his boxers. "I need you, too."
"Then, what are you waiting for?"
"Nothin'," he says, sitting up. "Absolutely nothin'."
He gets to his feet, pulling off his shoes and socks faster than he's ever undressed in his life. He shoves his pants and boxers down, and his cock springs free. You let out a quiet noise, and he feels a surge of pride as your eyes move down his body, and widen.
"Oh, Wrecker," you breathe, and the awe in your voice is so fucking satisfying. "You're..."
"Yeah?"
"It's so big," you murmur.
He feels the tips of his ears burn. He knows he's big. He's bigger than most, and he's always been worried about scaring people off.
"Do you think you can handle it?"
"Yeah," you say quickly, nodding.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
He's not convinced. "It's okay if you can't, y'know."
"I know, Wrecker," you answer, sounding amused. "I can handle it."
"I just don't want to hurt you."
"I know. And it's sweet. But if you don't come here and fuck me right now, I'm going to go crazy."
"Well, we can't have that," he mutters, a smile playing on his lips.
He climbs back onto the bed, and you move to meet him halfway, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you kneel together. Your chest presses against his, and you're so warm and soft, and he feels like he's going to melt.
He kisses the tip of your lek, and you let out a squeak, and the sound is so cute, he has to kiss the other one, too. He wants to kiss every part of you, and he plans to, someday. Right now, though, he's got something more important to take care of.
His mouth finds yours, and he cups the back of your neck, holding you still. You're pressed together, skin to skin, and he can feel the heat radiating from your body. Your hands are moving over his shoulders, down his chest, across his stomach, and when your fingers wrap around his cock, his hips buck.
"Fuck," he groans.
You give him a slow, languid stroke, and his eyes nearly roll back.
"You're beautiful," you whisper, your hand moving up and down, spreading precum along his length. You press a kiss to his shoulder, and then his collarbone, and his jaw, and his chin, and his mouth.
"I—ah," he grunts, his forehead falling to rest on yours, "You're kiddin', right?"
"Why would I be kidding?"
"You've got a lot more goin' for ya than me," he replies, his cheeks flushing. "A hell of a lot more."
"Nonsense," you say, shaking your head. Your grip tightens, and his breath catches in his throat. "You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen, and the things I want to do to you are..."
"Are what?"
"I'd rather show you," you admit, and there's something in your voice that makes his heart skip a beat.
"Well, go ahead, then," he encourages, giving you a toothy grin. "Show me."
Wrecker lets out a surprised yelp when you grab his shoulders and push him back, his back hitting the mattress. He laughs, and then you're on top of him, and his laughter dies, his breath coming out in short, shallow gasps.
You're straddling his waist, and the sight of your naked body above him is the most incredible thing he's ever seen. His hands move on their own, running across your thighs, your hips, and your ribs.
"This is a good look for you," you say, smirking.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Mhm."
You lean down and kiss him, and he can't help the way his hands wander, one moving up to squeeze your ass, and the other finding your breast. He can't get enough of you, and he doesn't know if he ever will. He squeezes, and rolls, and fondles, and when his thumb brushes your nipple, you break the kiss with a soft moan. You pull away, and he chases after you, his lips pressing against yours.
"Wrecker, stop," you giggle, swatting his hand away.
"I can't help it," he tells you, leaning up and pressing a kiss to your neck. "You're too kriffin' sexy."
"I need you inside me," you say, pushing his shoulders back. "And I'm not going to be able to get there if you keep distracting me."
"Alright," he sighs, falling back against the mattress. "Go ahead, I'll be patient."
"Good boy."
His eyes go wide, and his cock throbs at the words. He knows he likes being praised, and he's not ashamed to admit that, but the way it makes him react is almost embarrassing.
"Oh," you grin, and the mischief in your eyes has his heart racing. "You like that?"
"Yeah," he nods, his cheeks flushing.
"What else do you like?" you ask, leaning forward and grinding against him.
He swallows thickly. "Um."
"Wrecker," you say softly, and his eyes dart up to yours.
"I—" he stammers, his gaze flicking back down to your cunt. "I, uh—you know, I've never really had anyone ask me that before."
"Well, consider this the first time," you tell him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Tell me."
"Uh."
"Come on," you urge, kissing the other side, "tell me what you like."
"I like makin' you feel good," he blurts out. "I like it rough, I like bein' told what to do. I like knowin' I'm doin' a good job. And I like you, so—so just...tell me how you feel, or somethin', and I'll be happy."
"I can work with that."
You sit up, and the motion brings your pussy closer to his cock. He watches with wide eyes as you raise yourself up and guide his cock between your folds, the tip brushing against your entrance. His hips twitch, and his hands come up to grip your waist, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin.
"Kriff, you're gorgeous," he breathes, his eyes on the place where his cock is just barely penetrating you. "You're amazing."
"So are you," you reply.
He's not sure he agrees, but he doesn't have time to argue, because you're sinking down onto him, and his brain stops working.
You let out a quiet sigh, and Wrecker tries his best to keep his composure, but the wet, hot, tightness is too much. His hands tighten, his fingers digging into your sides before he realizes what he's doing. He relaxes his grip, his palms sliding across your skin, his eyes still on where your bodies are joined.
"Shit, sweetheart, I'm sorry, I just—"
"Don't apologize," you interrupt, your hips shifting, and his cock pushes a little deeper.
"I can't help it," he huffs, "I don't wanna hurt you."
"You're not hurting me," you promise, one hand settling on his chest. The other takes his hand, and you lift it up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "I'll tell you if you are, alright? So, don't worry. Just relax."
"Okay," he nods, taking a deep breath. "I can do that."
"Good boy," you praise, and Wrecker feels a wave of heat crash through him.
Your hips shift, and you sink down another inch. He lets out a shaky breath, his fingers curling into a fist. Your mouth is hot and insistent against his knuckles, your tongue swiping over the sensitive skin. You kiss his fingertips, and then his palm, and then the back of his hand. You nip at the fleshy part beneath his thumb, and he hisses, the sensation sending sparks up his arm.
"Fuck," he groans, and his hips buck, and his cock slides a little further inside.
"You're so big," you murmur, your hand sliding up his arm and over his chest. Your nails scrape his skin, and he trembles. "So fucking big, Wrecker."
"Yeah?"
You nod, your mouth open, and your cheeks flushed. Your eyes are a little glassy, and your breathing is shallow, and he can't believe how lucky he is to be here, with you, in this moment.
"I'm gonna—gonna make you feel good," he promises, and you laugh, your walls fluttering around him.
"Oh, darling," you sigh, lifting your hips and sinking back down, taking him a little deeper, "you already are."
His eyes squeeze shut, and his grip on you tightens. He tries to remember to breathe, and not to buck his hips, and not to pull you down and bury himself to the hilt. You're still kissing his hand, and the softness of your lips has him melting, his shoulders falling back against the bed.
"Look at me, ma sareen," you murmur.
Wrecker does.
The sight that greets him nearly sends him over the edge. You're hovering above him, his cock buried inside you, your lekku dangling in the space between your bodies. The lights in the room are dim, but the glow is bright enough to highlight the curve of your breasts, the swell of your hips, and the way your skin seems to shimmer.
You're breathtaking.
"You're amazin'," he says again, because he doesn't have anything better to say.
"You're so sweet," you chuckle, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I love that about you."
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
You kiss him again, and his mouth opens under yours. He groans when you bite his bottom lip, his hands moving to your hips, guiding your movements. You roll your hips, and his cock slips out of you, before sliding back in. You do it again, and again, and again, until the tip of his cock nudges against the end of your channel.
"Oh, shit," you gasp, sitting up, and bracing your hands against his stomach. "Oh, gods, Wrecker, you're—you're so fucking deep."
"Does it feel good?"
"So fucking good," you whimper.
He sits up and wraps his arms around you, holding you close. He can feel the tips of your lekku resting on his chest, and they're even softer than he imagined. He presses a kiss to the base of one, and then the other, and then he's kissing your neck, his stubble scratching against your skin.
"Ah," you sigh, your hips rocking. "Wrecker, fuck, it feels so good."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm."
"Good," he growls, and then he grabs your ass and pulls you down onto his cock.
You let out a surprised cry, and then you're moving faster, grinding down on his length. He thrusts up, his hips meeting yours. Your hands are everywhere, roaming across his back, his shoulders, and his chest. You're not shy about it, and you don't hold back. You squeeze, and stroke, and touch every part of him, and it's making him dizzy.
"Fuck, you feel so good," you moan, and Wrecker grunts, his teeth scraping the base of your lekku. "So fucking good, Wrecker."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm," you hum, and then you're pulling away, and his chest aches at the loss. You push him back against the pillows, and he stares up at you, his lips parted as you ride him, bouncing up and down. Your hands are planted on his chest, and your nails are digging into his skin.
He watches in awe as you take him, his cock disappearing between your legs. No one's ever taken him like this, no one's ever been able to handle him the way you are. You're not afraid, and you're not shy, and you're not afraid to get what you want.
"You're kriffin' perfect," he says, and then he's reaching for you, his hands cupping your face.
Wrecker kisses you, and the sound that leaves your throat is so needy, and desperate, that he can't help but thrust up into you, harder and faster. His tongue slides into your mouth, and you suck on it, drawing a groan from his chest. He's trying to hold on, to last as long as he can, but it's not easy. Not when you're riding him like this, and making him feel like this.
You pull away with a gasp and bury your face in his neck, and the warmth of your breath makes him shiver. He can't see your face, but he can feel the way you're shaking, can hear the quiet noises you're making.
"You like that?" he asks, his voice rough.
"So much," you whine.
"Gonna come for me?"
"Yes, please, yes," you whimper.
"Gonna scream for me?"
"Oh, Wrecker," you moan, your teeth sinking into his shoulder, and the pain goes straight to his cock. "Wrecker, you're making me—I'm so close, please, harder."
He doesn't hesitate to follow your orders.
He lifts his legs, spreading them wider, and you slide a little further down his length. His hips snap up, and your whole body jolts. The first slap of skin against skin has him groaning, and the second has him cursing, and by the time his balls are slapping against your ass, you're begging him not to stop.
He's not sure he could, even if he wanted to. He thrusts again, and again, his pace building. Your cunt is dripping, the wetness seeping from your entrance, and the lewd squelching sound fills the room.
His hand cups the back of your head, holding you close. You nuzzle against his shoulder, your lips pressed to his collarbone, and the sensation is so fucking intimate, so sweet, he's not sure how much longer he's going to be able to hold out.
"Sweetheart," he grunts, and he doesn't have the words to continue, doesn't know how to tell you he's going to come, doesn't want this to end.
"You're so good," you whisper, and he can feel his balls tightening, "so fucking good, Wrecker."
"Can I—I'm gonna come," he warns.
"Oh, fuck, me, too."
"Where—where do you want me?"
"Inside," you whine, and Wrecker has to grit his teeth to keep from coming on the spot. "Wrecker, inside, please, fill me up, I want it, want you."
"Shit," he groans, "fuck, fuck, sweetheart, you're—oh, shit, I'm—"
Your body goes stiff, your walls fluttering around his cock, and his mouth falls open. He's not prepared for the feeling of your pussy gripping his length, or the sound of your breathy moans. He's not prepared for the way your thighs tremble, or the way your back arches, or the way his name spills from your lips.
He's not prepared for the orgasm that crashes over him, the heat and the pleasure that rushes through his veins, and the way his whole body shudders as he comes inside you.
He can't remember the last time he came this hard, the last time he lost control like this. The feeling of your cunt around him is too much, and his head falls back, his eyes squeezing shut. The only thing that keeps him tethered to reality is the sound of your voice in his ear, a string of words in a language he doesn’t understand falling from your lips.
Wrecker holds you, his arms wrapping around you, and his hips buck, his cock twitching. He can't get enough, can't stop coming, can't stop fucking up into you. Your moans are soft, and gentle, and it's not until his own climax has subsided that he realizes you’re slumped against him, your breathing heavy, your face pressed to his neck.
"Shit, sorry, cyar'ika," he mutters as he realizes his grip has tightened. He moves to pull his hands away, but you reach out, taking his wrists and placing his hands back on your waist.
"No," you whimper, "please."
"Sweetheart, I'm hurtin' you."
"Just a little longer," you tell him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the base of his throat.
He's not sure why, but the request brings tears to his eyes. You want him. You want him to hold you, and touch you, and the realization makes his heart swell.
"Alright," he agrees, and you sigh and nestle closer.
He lays there, his softening cock still buried inside you, his arms around you, and his fingers find their way to your lekku. He strokes them gently, and you shiver, your body trembling.
"Is this okay?" he asks.
"Yes," you answer, your voice barely above a whisper. "It feels nice."
"Good," he says, smiling. "I like touchin' you."
"I can tell," you laugh and press a kiss to his chest.
He continues, his fingertips tracing a path down the side of one, and then the other. He doesn't know how much time passes. He's lost in the feeling of you, in the warmth of your body, in the softness of your skin. He doesn't even realize his eyes are closed until he hears you laughing.
"What?" Wrecker asks, opening his eyes and looking down at you.
"Are you asleep?"
"No," he answers, shaking his head, though the blush on his face gives him away. "I was just restin' my eyes."
"You sure?" you ask, and there's a teasing tone in your voice.
"I'm sure," he says, and then you're pulling away. His arms drop, and his cock slips out of your cunt, and his mouth falls open. Your combined release is leaking out of you, dripping down his cock and onto his stomach.
"Wow," he breathes.
"Is it a bad 'wow' or a good 'wow'?" you ask, your teeth sinking into your lower lip.
"The good kind," he answers, his eyes roaming over your body before returning to your face. His brows furrow. "Can I kiss you?"
"Wrecker, you don't have to ask," you tell him.
"Well, um," he starts, his cheeks turning pink. "It's just, I'm not really good at this part."
"What part?"
"The after part," he tells you. "I mean, it's always been, you know, in the dark, or quick, and I don't know how you feel about kissing and cuddlin' after, and I just...I dunno, I just like you, and I want to do it right."
"Oh, Wrecker," you laugh, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I like kissing and cuddling."
"You do?"
"I do," you nod, a smile on your face. "There's nothing more I'd rather do than kiss you, and cuddle with you, and hold you, and fall asleep with you. That is, if you'll have me."
"Oh.” He blinks. "Yeah, um, I'd like that a lot."
"Then, by all means, darling," you tell him, "kiss me."
"Yeah?"
"Mhm," you nod, grinning. "Please."
Wrecker leans forward, his hand cupping your cheek, and he presses his lips to yours. He licks into your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours, and the soft moan that leaves your lips makes his heart soar.
"You're incredible," he breathes, and the smile on your face is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
"You are too," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I hope that was everything you were hoping for."
"It was even better," he says, his hand moving down and resting on your hip. "Can we do it again?"
"Right now?" you ask, and he can't help but laugh.
"I was thinkin' tomorrow, maybe," he tells you, his thumb stroking your skin. "I'm gonna be honest, sweetheart, I don't think I'm gonna be able to go again for a while."
"Me either," you reply, laughing.
"But," he starts, his grip on your waist tightening, "when I am, you want to?”
"Of course," you tell him, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his neck. "I have some other ideas I'd like to run by you, if you're interested."
"I'm very interested." He grins. "Lets get cleaned up, and then you can tell me all about ‘em.”
"Mm," you whine, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “But I don’t want to move.”
“Not a problem,” he replies, and before you can say anything, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against him. You squeal, your legs wrapping around his waist, and he slides off the bed, holding you against him.
"Wrecker, put me down," you giggle.
"You're the one who didn't want to move," he reminds you.
"Put me down," you say, but your voice is full of laughter, and you’re smiling.
"No," he teases, shaking his head.
"Wrecker," you sigh, rolling your eyes.
"Sweetheart," he replies, mimicking your tone. “I’m a gentleman, remember? And a gentleman always carries his girl to the shower."
"In that case," you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face against his throat, "thank you, sir."
He walks toward the refresher, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, and his chest is bursting with pride. You're smiling, and laughing, and holding onto him, and it feels like a dream.
Wrecker sits you on the edge of the counter, and you wince, a soft hiss leaving your lips.
"You okay?"
"Just a little sore," you admit.
"Shit," he curses. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"No, no," you shake your head, your hand finding his wrist and squeezing. "It's a good sore, I promise. You were wonderful."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Mhm," you nod, biting your lip. "Best I've ever had."
He laughs. "That can't be true."
"Well, it is," you tell him, and he can see the sincerity in your eyes. "I mean, I've never felt anything like it."
He smiles, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours. You reach up, your fingertips brushing against his cheek, and he turns, kissing the palm of your hand.
"You're not just sayin' that, are ya?" he asks.
"Why would I?"
"I dunno," he admits.
"Wrecker," you sigh, your thumb brushing across his lower lip, "it's been a long time since I've felt anything for anyone. The truth is, I've had a crush on you for months. You're sweet, and kind, and funny, and the things you did tonight...the way you made me feel, the way you treated me...I've never felt so safe. Or special.”
"It was nothin'," he says, his cheeks flushing.
"It wasn't nothing," you insist, and he knows the look in your eyes means you're not going to let it go. "You made me feel beautiful, and wanted, and cared for, and I'll never be able to thank you enough for that. And it's going to take a lot more than a rough fuck to get rid of me."
"Yeah?" he breathes.
"Yes," you say, pressing a kiss to his chin.
"Okay," he nods. "So, we're gonna try this, huh?"
"Do you want to?"
"Are you kidding me? Of course I do," he laughs, his hands coming to rest on your thighs. "I just didn't want to push."
"Well, consider this your official invitation," you tell him, your hands sliding down and squeezing his biceps. "I'm all yours."
"All mine, huh?"
"Yep."
"Good," he nods, and then he's scooping you back up and carrying you toward the shower. "Because I'm all yours, too."
"Even better," you laugh, and the sound is like music to his ears.
Wrecker kisses you again, his hands gripping your thighs, and your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. You smile against his lips, and he can't help the grin that spreads across his face. He's not sure how this happened. He's not sure why you picked him. But he doesn't care.
All he cares about is the feeling of your lips against his, and the sound of your laughter filling the room. All he cares about is the taste of your mouth, and the warmth of your skin, and the way his chest swells every time you look at him.
He doesn't know where this is going, or how far it will go, but he knows one thing.
He wants it. All of it. With you.
Translation: ma sareen = Ryl for "my sweet"
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More Posts from Midnightoncoruscant and Others
If it’s not too much trouble may I submit a potion with the following? Zoisite (Echo, my beloved), Ginger (Come here let’s get you out of those wet clothes), and Bells (one didn't want to feel this way, but no matter how hard they fought - their feelings only grew) 🫣
You’re lovely and I hope you’re having a good day!! 💛💛💛
Hello, you certainly can! And thank you so much 🥰 other than being sick, I had a pretty awesome day!
I hope you also have a great day 💜💜💜
For this spell, I shall create it by making a circle of powdered ginger...place Zoisite in the middle and ring this beautiful bell above it! Which creates-
Warnings: reader is an ex-jedi, reader is hinted at being female but no pronouns are used. Kinda on the sad side, I'm so sorry 😅 But I promise it ends very soft and sweet. Takes place some point in TBB during a time where Echo is working with Rex - otherwise, your choice of timeline. Mentions of held back feelings due to worries of station and positions of power - as well as worrying of taking advantage. I hope Echo came off as relieved as I intended😅
A Spell for Joining Hearts That Never Meant to Part
Echo x Reader (TBB)
Echo stared down at you for a moment, as you continued to curl further into yourself and tried to disappear into the dirty lower Courascant alleyway. He was surprised to see you'd somehow escaped the purge and survived this long, let alone on Courascant. Your clothes were drenched, tattered, splattered in who-knows-what, and your person was absolutely filthy, looked sickly and barely looked as if you contained a shred of life.
Echo thought you had died, that you'd been in the temple with the rest of them. That you were forever lost and he'd never see you again. He had wrestled with his tender feelings for you for so long, that he almost felt like it was wrong for him to act upon them now. And he'd tried to bury them, tried to cope with those wretched feelings just like he'd tried to cope with his trauma - of what had been done to him. While he'd worked through the latter to a point of acceptance and strength...the former had been left in loose threads that would always lead back to you. Back to a life he thought he'd never be blessed to see again.
He glanced around briefly, making sure nobody was around before he crouched before you and held out his hands - er his hand and scomp.
Your gaze was downcast and far away, undoubtedly you'd disassociated into a far cormer of your mind, where you felt safe. Where you could pretend nothing bad was happening.
Echo sighed softly and gently took your hands, his thumb rubbing against the back of your right hand. He ignored the slight jolt that occurred under your skin but it did not escape his notice.
He'd called to you softly, let your name tumble sweetly from his pale lips and the sound dance to your eardrums in a way that used to give you a jolt of giddy delight. But this time, there was nothing...no response to his calling - not even a twitch of the lip
"Come here," he urged softly "I'll take you somewhere safe"
your gaze grew a bit focused as your eyes settled on his hand, on the gentle rubbing his thumb did, on the comforting feel it provided
He tried to give you a half-baked smile, situation weighing heavily but still wanting to reassure you, before he dropped your name again.
"Come on, let's get you out of those wet clothes..." he whispered "Let me take care of you"
He reached forward with his scomp and used it to tilt your chin up, delicately forcing your eyes to meet his. Those orbs of liquid gold that were so sincere and so heartbroken for you.
Tears welled in your eyes, the very eyes you though had run dry long ago
"E-echo" you blubbered out with a creaky voice
"Shhhh" he hushed, feeling his heart break further for you.
He leaned in and gathered you in his arms, guided your own around his neck and hefted you up by your thighs. Then, he held you in a tight embrace for a few moments, pressing his face against the side of your head and relishing the feel of finally having you in his arms. And as you clung tightly to him, as if he were a life preserver in an endless ocean, and buried your face against his neck...Echo couldn't help but a small bundle of pride bloom in his chest that you had deemed him safe...even after everything that'd occured and all your time spent apart.
"I'm taking you with me, no more being apart...okay?" he whispered to you
You didn't answer formally, just clung tighter and cried harder.
Echo hugged you tighter then peeked out of the small alleyway and upon seeing the coast was clear, quickly departed with you.
You heard the door slide open and turned your gaze to meet golden orbs full of surprise and relief.
Your bleary gaze drifted from the sheet gathered at your hips to the grey walls, the articfical lighting and then settled onto the door. You didn't recognize the location but you felt warm...you could sense calmness, confusion, unease...restlessness... you carefully stood from the cot and noticed the loose dress-like cloth covering your form, your jedi robs nowhere to be seen.
You pulled your hands up. Bandages and clean skin greeted you, and upon moving to the mirror on the wall, your visage, clean and clear of wounds, met you. Someone had taken care of your wounds and cleaned you up. You supposed you should be a bit upset, having been in such a vulnerable state and not remembering it very well...but you couldn't find it in your heart to feel such a way.
"Echo" his name escaped your lips far before a thought had developed in your mind
A smile formed at his lips as he quickly made his way to you and began glancing you over
"Well, you seem better now...how do you feel?" he asked softly, his hand gently grasping your bicep and his scomp settled at your side
"Did you...?" you asked in confusion, searching his gaze for answers
embaressment flushed across his face before he let out a soft, almost nervous chuckle.
"Ah...no...I didn't" he said in complete and utter seriousness
You nodded and glanced past him to the door before returning your gaze to him
"Where am I...?"
"Rex, he uh...has been gathering brothers. Helpin' them get away from the Empire. This place is owned by some friends - two sisters. They were the ones that cleaned you up. Figured you'd be more comfortable if they were the ones..."
Your mind worked through the information like trudging through muck. But you nodded softly, aggreeing with his point of view and reasoning.
"You...you didnt kill me" you mumbled with confusion
Echo's gaze grew sad, yet soft. He knew what you were talking about and clearly had seen his fair share of unsightly things since that dreaded order had been given
"No..." he whispered, gently cupping your cheek "I had my chip, what made the troopers act, removed. It didn't work to begin with...but we felt it best to remove it"
He watched you for a moment before his thumb rubbed against your cheek
"I...never thought I'd see you again. I thought my...my brothers - that they-"
You put a finger to his lips, hushing his words. They were difficult for him to say, but just as difficult for you to hear. Instead you leaned in and hugged him tightly.
Echo breathed out your name, as if it were a prayer to the forces that lay beyond...
"Shhhh" he hushed, feeling his chest squeeze with emotion.
And you let you a shakey breath, tears pooling in your eyes.
"I'm...I'm so happy...happy you're okay..." you blubbered out as the tears ran off with you "I...I never had the chanc-"
"I...I don't know what to do" you whispered
The two of you stayed like that, your form snugly cradled in Echo's safe embrace as he rocked back and forth gently, hushing you while you cried and clung to him tightly. But soon enough, your tears ran dry and you continued to hold on as he continued to sway you both.
"Then stay here...stay with us" he whispered "Help us keep my brothers safe"
"I...I dont know if I can fight anymore. I lost my saber..." you sniffled
"You don't need to fight" your dear arc urged gently "You can stay here and help us in other ways. You can stay with me"
You paused for a moment and in that moment that he'd let his feelings slip out, he was worried he'd overstepped.
But you suddenly leaned forward and pressed your lips to his cheek.
Echo's eyes searched your own, for confirmation of your own feelings - ones he suspected laid within you since the two of you met in that awful war.
"I...I couldn't before" you whispered "I didn't want you to feel taken advantage of..."
Echo pressed his forehead to yours gently, closing his eyes and just relishing in the closeness
"I didn't want to, if I'm being honest. I didn't want to put you in a position...but...I just want you to know. I will always be there to take care of you. Until I am ripped from you, and not before. Regardless of where I stand in your heart."
"Echo, I..." you smiled softly and leaned more.into his touch "You are my heart"
Echo smiled brightly and tightened his hold around you. The gentle sway returning but this time it wasnt to soothe.but a small almost celebratory sway - something a kin to a dance but leisure and slow.
The details would be worked out later, you'd meet Rex and the rest of the clones later, you'd both learn to grow together later. Right now, though, you'd just relish in the closeness and the certainty of one anothers feelings.
Build-a-spell event
Build-a-spell Masterlist
Divider by me
Reblog divider by dystopicjumpsuit 💜
Ok, I've been trying to figure out what I wanted the most, then I remembered you said we could send in more than one, so I'll send in this one and maybe send in another later on (if you're not too swamped with requests.)
Malachite - Hunter
Willow - "Listen to me, everything will be fine."
Pendulum - A hug from behind and a kiss to the neck.
Thanks so much for doing this really cool event!! <3
Carol (@clonethirstingisreal)
Hi Carol! I'm glad you were able to send one in! I do have to appologise for this being on a bit of a melancholic note, though. I was struck with inspiration and wrote like a madwoman 😅 I hope you enjoy it but if not, I can always try again 💜
Now for this spell, I will take a pendulum made of Malachite and let it swing from a willow twig...!
Warnings: reader is referred to as a female (once) and having breasts (also once) otherwise i don't think there's any other descriptors. Anxiety, calm down of said anxiety and the reminding of one's place in their found family. Mentions of how much care there is for reader by the rest of the batch. Dialogue prompt in blue
A Spell for Reassurance of a Found Family
Hunter x Reader
and bonus: Batch x Reader (Platonic)
Anxiety flooded your system. Your veins thrummed as your ears pounded - your heart racing faster than a Kaadu with the promise of tlickweed. You could feel the very muscles under your skin tingling, as if they were power lines - taut to the point of almost snapping with lightening trapped within. Your vision was a bit blurred and your breathing picked up to accomodate for the rate your heart was going. Sweat began to fill at your pits, under your breasts and at the top of your lip.
You were offically panicking.
Not terribly far from you, Hunter picked up on the sudden distress within you - not only could he practically feel the anxious behaviour as if it were his own...but your dear batch-er was very good at details, and he knew you well. This was not something to let you work out on your own, this was your body crying for help.
Your beloved slowly stood from his seat at the computer interface, and made his way to you. He wanted to get to you as soon as humanly possible - but was not willing to risk scaring you in such a heightened state. Using the full length of his legs, Hunter was behind you soon enough and with a soft call of your name he made his preseance known.
You turned, face riddled with surprise, only for shame and guilt flood your visage before you quickly spun back around. A desperate attempt to hide from his view
"Hey," Hunter reached out and took your wrist in his hand, his other wrapping around your middle to pull you close "Hey, listen."
"But-"
"Listen to me..." he implored in a whisper
He waited until you stopped struggling and wriggling in his hold.
"Fine...I'm listening" you huffed with a pout forming at your lips
"Everything...is going to be...alright" he hushed
He pulled you further back until your spine pressed to his chest, his face dipping forward a bit to kiss your neck at the perfect angle - the perfect spot to leave goosebumps prickling across your skin in response. And he gleefully and selfishly felt his chest swell with pride at the pebbled surface fly across your flesh.
You whined softly, but let out a deep sigh
"You don't know that" your urged softly, as if your words held too much gravity to be said in a single note higher than it already had
"Yes, I do" Hunter whispered in soft and sweet tone, the hand holding your wrist guiding it to your middle so that both his arms were around you. So he could hug you tightly to him.
You were silent for a moment, as the cacophany of emotions ran about your mind and soul. Your eyes closing to try and desperately hold back the tears that began to fill your lashline. And unknowingly, you began to lean further and further back - as if you were subconsciously trying to sink into your lover's chest.
"Everything...is...its just so much*" your words came out like a whimper, voice cracked from the weight of your emotions
"I know" he confirmed softly, his face leaning forward so that his cheek could rest against your own "But, you're not alone in this"
You silently, leaned your head to the side to touch your cheek to his - earning you a soft hum of delight and his arms to tighten their hold just a bit to give you a gentle squeeze
"You're not" he urged "You have me...and you'll have my brothers ready to help too"
"That'd be a waste of their time" you mumbled softly
"It wouldn't. I know you think that you could just slip away and nobody would notice - I do know how your brain works in these times, you know" he smiled softly "And it's wrong"
you let out a half-hearted scoff, pulling one of your arms up and out of his hold to rub your eye
"If you looked so much as remotely distress all of them would be ready to throw down" Hunter pointed out softly "Tech might not be very affectionate the way most people are, but he always peeks at you when you're struggling with a task. Barely an hour later and I'll see him tinkering and editing it so that next time it's easier for you"
You raised a brow in suspicion, but let him continue
"Echo has relaxed a lot more since you've been around to help with everything, and he's always the first one to ask if you need anything when there's a supply stop." he rocked your forms side to side softly as if the gentle sway would help shoo your negative feelings "Wrecker will watch you with Omega and is just so elated that she has a formal feminine role model - not to mention he takes every opportunity to ask if you've got enough 'your stuff' to make you feel comfortable. And I really think he loves running off to go shopping with your and Omega"
A small snort of a giggle wriggled past your lips. Your shopping outtings were always chaotic but a lot of fun.
"Then there's Omega." Hunter let out a sift sigh "You know...I think she actually loves you more than I do"
Another giggle erupted from you, his one hand reaching across your torso to wipe a tear trail from your cheek.
"She follows you like a duckling, she watches everything you do and tries to emulate it, and i wish you could see the twinkle in her eyes whenever you so much as show up in the vacinity. You're the first person she says goodnight to and the first one to get a hug in the morning." he let out a chuckle "She'll talk about your non-stop, even about things we all know and about situations we were present for. The little girl adores you with every fibre of her being"
you carefully turned in his hold, your lover removing his lean into you to give you a better chance at doing so
"And you..." you whispered, gaze tender and vulnerable
You watched his tattoo distort as a loving smile not only spread across his lips but reached his eyes and creasedthem as well.
"And me." he aggreed "But you always had me. Right from the moment I set eyes on you"
You felt your cheeks warm at his admission and you looped your arms around his neck - his own pulling you in close to his chest once again, although this time you were facing him
"I'm sorry" you whispered
"Nothin' to be sorry for" your beloved commando soothed
"I was being silly, emotional" you pressed
"No, you were just overwhelmed. A life on the go isn't easy - especially one where you're a fugitive" he sighed, feeling guilty for having pulled you into this life
"I chose to be here, Hunter. I chose to be with you...all of you" you smiled softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek
"I don't think you were aware of the consequences" came the soft grumble, tho his lips couldnt fully pull down - pleased by your affectionate display
"Well, you did kinda come crashing into my office like a tornado, packed half my belongings and began towing me away" you offered, feeling lighter by the subject
"Yeah...that...that wasn't very respectful of me, I should've explained better-"
"You were sprinting off Tipocca with Omega and your brothers" you defended
"Most of my brothers" he corrected quietly
you nodded softly and pulled him in for a hug
"It wasn't the last conversation you'll have with him. I may not know everything, but that much I know." you comforted "Given a better chance, he'll choose you - he'll choose all of you"
"Us" he corrected you once again "He'll choose all of us"
you made a bit of a face as you tried to think up a quick response
"You're part of this family too" Hunter cooed, placing his hand on your cheek "Cross can handle 2 sisters, I'm sure he'll get along with you and Omega much easier than us four"
"And why's that...?"
Hunter only smiled knowingly, but when you opened your lips to protest his lack on words...
"THERE YOU TWO ARE!" Wrecker's voice boomed happily "Been lookin' everywhere for you!"
"I did mention they were likely still on the marauder" Tech grumbled fixing his goggles
"We're...not...interrupting somethin', are we...?" Echo asked slowly, his brow cocked and his golden hues darting between yourforms - taking stock of you both
Before you could answer, you name came ringing out as a cheer and only half a heartbeat after did Omega collide into you. Her arms wrapped around your hips and her cheek pressed against the small of your back
"I missed you...!" she beamed and quickly shuffled to the side to tear your arm from Hunter and began to tug you towards the hatch "You gotta see this! I found the most beautiful and weird thing..! And you'll never believe what it's called! Its th-"
Hunter smiled affectionately as he watched omega cart you off, only to notice his brothers staring
"What?"
"He's got it baaaaaad" Wrecker snickered
"Precisely," Tech agreed turning to walk right back out of the ship "Good thing you all have me here to keep this operation running, with Hunter fueled on hormones and emotions now-"
Hunter gawked as his face flushed darkly, then turned to Echo for help
"Pfft." Echo quickly turned his head to the side and held his hand over his mouth
"I hate. you. all"
Build-a-spell event
Build-a-spell masterlist
Divider by me
Reblog divider by dystopicjumpsuit 💜
okay guys so I was watching the livestream of Dee Bradley Baker with his live signing today, + a fan had him quote:
“Oh I’m much worse” as crosshair, and he already had an extra raspy voice because he just finished doing a bunch of recordings. So it’s like HEAVY RASPY CROSSHAIR VOICE!!
he then continues to say while he’s laughing about it, “that’s a line I improvised, I remember that, that’s a funny line. Funny old crosshair” AND I LOST IT laughing + screaming!
Dee was like “it brings me a pang of delight”.
But not the fandom losing their shit already at the line when it was said, but having him repeat it as extra raspy crosshair was not on my bingo list for the year OMG!!
It's been a long time since I brought Bly and Aayla, I really wanted to draw them again, they are my favorite ship 🫶🏼
I’m SO excited to read more of this. Completely agree Fox is a grumpy cutie who needs reassurance, naps, blankies and the good caf. And I absolutely loved Thorn basically marching him for treatment and how he knew Fox would 💯 skip out the moment he wasn’t looking 😂
Too Sweet
Pairing: Fox x fem!Reader / Fox x Doctor!Reader
Words: 6,140/20,589
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, strangers to lovers, grumpy/sunshine, description of blood/wound care, Fox is a little anxious/paranoid, and he needs a hug, you can pry goofy Thorn out of my cold dead hands, smut in part 3? 4?
Summary: Fox has no time for romance. He doesn't even have time for sleep, let alone dates. But when a horrible day at work leads him to you, he suddenly finds himself in danger of reevaluating his priorities.
A/N: Trying something a little different with more, shorter parts for these longer fics. Also forgot to say thanks for 650 followers! hello!
Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist
“For the last time, I don’t need a medic.”
Fox is trying to be polite about it, but the tone of his voice is bordering on a growl. Every push on his shoulder is a jab to his pride, making him hiss like an angry tooka-cat. He knows he's being ridiculous, but that's never stopped him before.
His patience is already thin, but it had been stretched to the breaking point by a series of unfortunate events over the course of the day. The first, and arguably the most annoying, had occurred at the beginning of his shift.
Fox had woken up late, and his alarm clock had gone off with a loud, obnoxious tone that had caused him to shoot straight up in his bed, slamming a fist onto the off button. He scrambled out of bed and dressed faster than he thought possible, then hurried into the mess hall for the early shift breakfast. He was late enough that the food line was empty, and his choice was between a bowl of sludgy porridge or an unidentifiable ration bar.
The ration bar had tasted like stale durasteel, and the porridge was more of a thick slop, so Fox had opted for the latter. He scarfed it down with a mug of caf after an overdrawn fight with the machine, which tried to refuse him more than one portion of caf. He had left the mess hall with his stomach growling and his mouth bitter with the aftertaste of the caf, and his mood had soured even further when he found the lift under maintenance, forcing him to take the stairs.
When he arrived at the office, there was an enormous stack of datapads on his desk. A new security system had just been installed throughout the city, and the details were apparently too sensitive to be kept on the holonet. The only copies of the schematics were the ones on the physical datapads, and Fox had the wonderful task of checking every single one.
By the time lunch came around, Fox had managed to read through half the stack despite the constant interruptions. Someone would come in and ask about some obscure policy, or a trooper would report that someone had thrown a bottle at him, and the Chancellor would call for updates, and all the while, Fox had to be careful not to crush the datapads with his gauntlets.
The Chancellor was especially persistent today, calling him in person to demand a detailed analysis of the new security measures. Fox was forced to leave the datapads behind in order to give him an impromptu briefing, which ended with the Chancellor dismissing him with a wave of his hand and a curt, "I'm sure you have more important things to attend to."
Fox was seething when he returned to his office, and in a last minute attempt to escape his prison and an effort to calm himself, he decided to walk the patrol route himself instead of sending a trooper.
Of course, this had to be the day that every citizen on Coruscant decided to commit a crime, from a jaywalking elderly woman to a pair of pickpockets that had made off with a trooper's blaster. There was an argument outside a bar, an illegal speeder chase, and a man had decided to start a fire in the middle of the street, and all this had happened in the span of less than two hours.
Thorn had thought it was funny, but Fox hadn't found it nearly as entertaining. And now, he's been injured during the scuffle with the firestarter, and Thorn is making a big fuss about it.
Fox's shoulder throbs with pain as he moves, and he tries to ignore the way the skin is tightening around the wound. It's only a scratch, but it's deep, and Fox can feel blood oozing out of the cut and dripping down his armor. His head is pounding, and his chest aches from having been slammed against the duracrete by the man's boot.
A hand presses down on his shoulder, and Fox flinches away with another hiss. He turns on Thorn with a scowl
"I'm fine," he growls, shrugging Thorn's hand off his shoulder. "Leave it alone."
"Fox," Thorn says. He's trying to sound reasonable, but Fox can hear the exasperation in his voice. "It's a karking gash on your arm. I can't leave it alone."
Fox rolls his eyes. "I'm not letting you drag me back to the medbay for something as minor as this," he says. He turns and starts walking, heading towards the Senate building. "We've got more important things to do."
"I'm not dragging you to the medbay," Thorn says, running to catch up. He grabs Fox's arm and yanks him to a stop. "You're going to GMF. It's on the way to the Senate anyway."
"What? No!" Fox sputters, but Thorn is already pulling him down the street. He digs his heels into the ground, but Thorn is stronger than he is, and the other commander pulls him forward without breaking his stride.
"You're coming with me whether you like it or not," Thorn says, his voice firm. He doesn't loosen his grip, and Fox can only follow along helplessly. "The office will survive without you for a couple of hours."
"Thorn, you're not—"
"Yes, I am."
Fox scowls. Thorn isn't budging, and neither is he, and they've reached a stalemate. He's considering the merits of just sitting down and refusing to move, but before he can even make a decision, they're already at GMF.
"Let's go," Thorn says, pulling him up the steps. "Just stop trying to act tough and get over yourself."
Fox wants to protest, but Thorn has an iron grip on his arm, and he doesn't want to risk a public spectacle, so he allows himself to be pulled inside.
"Fine," he huffs. He can already feel a headache coming on, and his stomach is still grumbling in protest at its meager breakfast. Maybe he'll be able to sneak away before anyone notices, and no one will ever know that the Commander of the Guard was seen at GMF for such a minor injury.
"That's the spirit," Thorn says, grinning. He pulls on Fox's arm again, and this time, Fox lets himself be dragged away.
They've been sitting in the waiting room for a few minutes, and Fox is already starting to regret his decision. It's a busy day at GMF, and a steady stream of injured people are filing into the building, filling the waiting room with a cacophony of moans and groans.
Fox's shoulder is starting to throb again, and the wound is leaking blood into the fabric of his blacks. Thorn is tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair, his expression thoughtful.
"I wonder how many people are in here because of you," he says, looking around the room. There's a group of young men sitting on the opposite side of the room, nursing a variety of wounds. "They must be getting sick of seeing the Guard around here."
Fox glares at him, and Thorn chuckles.
"You'd think they'd learn their lesson and stop committing crimes," Fox mutters.
"We'd all like that," he laughs. "But we both know that won't happen."
Fox sighs, leaning back against the wall. He shifts slightly, trying to find a comfortable position. He's still annoyed about his arm, and now the smell of bacta is starting to get to him. It had always had a pungent, chemical smell to him, and the scent of the various medical supplies is making him queasy.
He can feel his stomach starting to churn, and he closes his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing. The bright fluorescent lights are only making things worse, and the sound of the door sliding open and closed as various people walked in and out of the medical wing is grating on his nerves.
It doesn't help that Thorn is sitting right next to him, staring him down like he's a suspect in an interrogation. He'd caught on to Fox's plan to slip away almost as soon as they'd stepped into the room, and Fox had been forced to endure his company as they waited for their turn.
"How long is this going to take?"
"They said they were pretty busy today," Thorn says. "I'm not sure, but you're probably going to be waiting for a while."
"Great."
"Don't be such a baby. It'll be over before you know it."
Fox groans and leans back in his chair. He can't help but think of all the work that he should be doing right now. The stack of datapads has probably gotten taller since they left the office, and he'll have even more work to do once he returns.
He hates the feeling of wasting time, especially when there's so much to be done, and at this rate, he'll be lucky if he manages to finish the rest of his work by nightfall. And that was if the Chancellor didn't call him again.
"You should go back," Fox says, looking up at Thorn. "I can handle this."
Thorn raises an eyebrow, giving him an incredulous look.
"And let you weasel your way out of getting that arm checked out?" he scoffs. "I don't think so."
Fox shoots him a glare, but Thorn only grins.
"Nice try, but no," he says. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."
"Thorn—"
"I'm not going anywhere."
Fox sighs and slumps in his seat. He can see that Thorn isn't going to budge, and he doesn't have the energy to argue with him. His shoulder is really starting to hurt now, and the bleeding hasn't slowed down yet. He's getting dizzy, and the queasiness is growing stronger
He closes his eyes, resting his head against the wall. He feels terrible, and the longer he sits here, the worse he feels. The smell of the bacta is making his stomach turn, and the noise and chaos in the room is starting to get to him.
The medical center always brings back memories of the Kaminoans, and he was usually only ever here when one of his brothers was seriously injured. He doesn't have fond feelings towards the place.
"This is a waste of time," Fox mutters. "I could be working, or doing literally anything else right now."
"You know it's not a waste of time," Thorn says. He's looking around the room, keeping a close eye on the other people. "You're injured, and you need to get that taken care of. Stop being such a stubborn di'kut."
Fox is about to say something in response, his eyes land on a medical droid heading their way. He lets out a sigh of relief and gets to his feet. Finally, his suffering is about to end.
"Commander Fox?" the medical droid asks, stopping in front of him with a metallic whir.
"Yes, that's me."
"Please follow me. We're ready for you now."
"Finally," Fox mutters, ignoring Thorn's chuckle.
He follows the droid down a long, white corridor, his footsteps echoing against the tile floor. He keeps his eyes forward, refusing to look back at Thorn. He doesn't want to see the smug look on his brother's face.
After a few minutes, the droid leads them into an examination room and motions for him to sit down on the cot. Fox complies, perching on the edge of the thin mattress and crossing his arms, trying not to fidget, and Thorn takes a seat in the chair in the corner of the room.
The droid is quick and efficient, running the scanner over his shoulder and chest and checking the readouts. It tells him that he'll need some stitches and bacta treatment, and Fox sigh, nodding his agreement.
"Thank you, Commander," the droid says. It stands still for a moment, processing its data, and then turns and exits the room.
"You're not getting out of this one," Thorn says as soon as the doors shut behind the droid.
"I know," Fox grumbles, slumping in his seat. He rests his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. "I just want to get this over with."
Thorn shakes his head, a smile playing across his lips. He doesn't say anything, but Fox knows he's just happy to have won. They're both competitive, and any victory, no matter how small, is something to celebrate.
"Stop that," Fox snaps. He doesn't want to deal with Thorn's smugness. He's already irritated, and the last thing he needs is for his brother to rub his victory in his face.
"Stop what?" Thorn asks, feigning innocence.
“That thing that you’re doing with your face.”
“It’s called smiling, Fox, you should try it sometime. I think you could use the practice,” Thorn teases, and Fox rolls his eyes.
Before he can come up with a retort, the door opens, and Fox reflexively straightens, preparing himself for the worst. The medical droids aren't exactly known for their gentle touches and bedside manner.
To his surprise, the person who enters the room isn't a medical droid.
Fox feels his eyes widen as he takes in the decidedly human figure standing in the doorway, a datapad in hand. Wearing a crisp, clean set of medical whites, you stand tall, and his first thought is that you're beautiful.
His second thought is that you look far too cheerful for someone working in a medical facility. Your eyes are bright, and you're smiling, and the expression is so warm and genuine that it makes him wonder how you're managing to maintain it in a place like this.
It's a nice smile.
It isn't until Thorn clears his throat that Fox realizes he's been staring at you for the last few seconds, and he hastily looks away just as you glance up from the datapad.
"Hello," you say, your voice soft. "Commander Fox, is it?"
"Y-yes," he manages to reply, feeling his cheeks flush.
"And I'm Commander Thorn," Thorn chimes in, and he shoots him a smug look when Fox turns to glare at him.
"Well, hello," you say. Your voice is warm and melodic, and your eyes are sparkling. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."
"The pleasure's all mine," Thorn replies, flashing you a grin.
"Yeah," Fox mumbles. "Pleasure."
He's never felt so awkward in his life, and he's suddenly acutely aware of the blood on his armor, the way his hair is sticking up in all directions, and the fact that he hasn't slept in a couple days. You, on the other hand, look fresh and put together, and you're practically glowing.
You introduce yourself, and you give them a brief summary of your qualifications and experience. Fox doesn't pay much attention to what you're saying. He's too busy trying not to stare at you, and it isn't until he hears the word 'bacta' that he snaps back to reality.
"Wait, what?" he asks.
"Bacta," you repeat, tilting your head slightly. "It's a healing substance that stimulates the body's natural ability to regenerate tissue."
"I know what bacta is," he says, his tone coming out harsher than he intended.
You blink at him, clearly startled by his response, and Fox feels his face heating up.
"Right," you say, clearing your throat. You offer him a small, polite smile, and he looks away, embarrassed. "As I was saying, we'll need to administer a small dose of bacta to the area where the injury occurred. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes."
"Fine." Fox crosses his arms and tries not to scowl, and you turn away, tapping on your datapad again. Thorn kicks him in the shin, and Fox gives him a look. The other commander gestures with his eyes to you, and Fox frowns, shaking his head.
"Do you have any allergies or medical conditions?" you ask, looking up from the screen.
"No," Fox says, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. The mattress is far too thin, and the metal frame is digging into the back of his knees. "I already told the droid."
"Right," you say. "Just making sure."
Fox glances over at Thorn, who gives him an exasperated look, and Fox sighs. He knows that he's being difficult, but he can't seem to stop himself. His shoulder hurts, his head is throbbing, and his stomach is rumbling, and he just wants to get this over with so he can return to the office and finally finish the rest of his work.
He looks back at you and sees that you're staring at him. You're looking at him with concern, and your lips are pressed into a thin line. You're not smiling anymore, and Fox feels a twinge of guilt.
"You don't have to be nervous," you say. "This is going to be a quick procedure, and it won't hurt at all. We'll use a local anesthetic and numbing spray, and you won't feel a thing."
"I'm not nervous," Fox protests, his face flushing. "I just don't have time for this."
"I understand," you say, and your expression softens. "But this is important, and we need to make sure that you're taken care of."
Fox wants to argue, but there's a hint of steel in your tone, and the look in your eyes is firm. You're clearly not going to let him get out of this, and he sighs, resigning himself to his fate.
"Alright," he says, reluctantly.
"Great," you say, giving him a small, reassuring smile.
He feels a little better when you smile at him, and he tries not to smile back. You turn away, busying yourself with setting up the equipment, and Fox takes the opportunity to look at you again. You're standing with your back to him, and he can see the outline of your figure through your medical whites. You're not very tall, but you're not short either, and he wonders how old you are. You can't be older than twenty-five, he guesses, but it's hard to tell with natborns.
"How did you get that injury, anyway?" you ask, glancing over your shoulder.
"Work-related incident," Fox says. He doesn't want to tell you the truth. He doesn't want you to think he's a clumsy idiot, or that he can't do his job properly.
"Oh," you say, sounding a little surprised. You turn back to the equipment, and he can see the muscles in your back tense. "That sounds... dangerous."
"It's nothing," Fox says, his voice low. "I can handle it."
"Of course," you say softly. You turn around and walk over to the cot, your gaze focused on the equipment. "Okay, armor off, Commander. Let's see it."
Fox stiffens, his heart skipping a beat. "I—what?"
"The injury," you say, your brow furrowing slightly. You reach over and brush your fingers against his arm. "Is something wrong?"
"No," Fox says, a little too quickly.
Thorn lets out a snort, and Fox glares at him. He just raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk on his face, and Fox rolls his eyes.
"Sorry, it's been a long day," he says as he turns back to you. "Just a bit tired, is all."
"That's understandable," you say, your lips curving into a small, sympathetic smile. "If it makes you feel any better, I've been on my feet since 0600."
"I think you win," Fox says, his voice dry.
You let out a small, breathy laugh, and his heart skips a beat again. It's a nice sound, and he feels a strange surge of pride at having caused it.
He was truly terrible at making small talk, and most people found his dry sense of humor off-putting. The fact that you had laughed at his words, even if it had been a polite, professional laugh, was surprising. It was hard not to see it as a small victory in an otherwise terrible day.
You smile at him again, and he feels a sudden urge to smile back. You look like you're about to say something, but then your datapad beeps, and the moment is lost.
"I'll be right back," you say. "Just got to check something."
You step out of the room, and Fox lets out a breath, relieved that you're gone. He hadn't expected you to be so friendly, or to be so concerned about him. Most natborns just saw the troopers as an extension of their equipment, and they only spoke to him if there was a problem. You're different, though, and it's unnerving.
"You're blushing."
"What?" Fox sputters, turning to Thorn. "What are you talking about?"
"Your face is red," Thorn says with a wide grin.
"It's the lights," he says, pointing to the ceiling. "They're too bright."
"I didn't know we could blush," Thorn teases. "That's kinda cute."
"Shut up."
"Oh, come on. You can't tell me you're not at least a little bit interested."
Fox sighs and shakes his head. "Not now, Thorn. We're in a medical center, not a bar."
"Good thing, too." Thorn stands up and starts to help him unlatch his armor, a smirk on his face. "Cause if we were, you wouldn't have a chance. She's way out of your league."
"You're the worst," Fox says, and he swats Thorn's hands away and reaches up to unfasten his shoulder plates himself.
"She's pretty," Thorn continues, ignoring him. He pulls off Fox's pauldrons and sets them on the ground. "And she's not scared of you, either. That's a first."
"Yeah, well, she works in a medical facility," Fox mutters, slipping out of his cuirass. "They must have taught her how to deal with difficult patients."
"Maybe," Thorn says. He removes the rest of Fox's armor, placing it carefully on the ground, and then steps back. "But I don't think that's it. She's nice."
"She's paid to be nice."
"That's not fair, and you know it."
"I don't need you playing matchmaker," Fox grumbles.
"Fine," Thorn says, crossing his arms. "But if you don't ask for her frequency, I will."
Fox's eyes widen. "Don't you dare—"
The doors slide open again, and you step inside, your expression bright. "Sorry about that."
Your gaze is focused on the gloves you're pulling over your hands as you walk in, but as soon as you look up, your smile vanishes, and you freeze. Your eyes are fixed on his arm, and Fox quickly glances down, noticing the large dark patch of blood seeping through his undershirt.
"Oh, Commander!" you exclaim, hurrying towards him.
"It's not that bad," he says. He hadn't realized how bad it was until now, and his heart is pounding in his chest. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not." Your tone is stern, and he finds himself shrinking back a little under your intense gaze. "Now sit still."
Fox does as he's told, watching as you pull a stool over and set up a tray. Your movements are swift and practiced, and you don't seem at all bothered by the amount of blood. You're frowning, but your eyes are calm, and Fox finds himself relaxing a little.
"Let's get this over with," you mutter.
You're not smiling anymore, and it unsettles him. He'd thought that he had imagined the steel in your voice earlier, but now he can hear it clearly, and it sends a shiver down his spine.
"Yes, sir," he says, trying to lighten the mood.
"It's doctor, actually."
Fox winces.
"My mistake," he mutters, his voice apologetic. "Force of habit."
You look at him, and he thinks he sees the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, but before he can be sure, your face is composed and neutral again.
"Would you prefer I cut the sleeve off, or would you rather take it off yourself?"
"I'll do it."
You nod, and he lifts his arms, peeling the soaked fabric away from his skin. His stomach clenches at the sight of the deep, bloody gash, and the stench of copper is heavy in the air. He can feel the blood beginning to trickle down his arm, and the sight of his pale, slick flesh is almost enough to make him vomit.
"Are you okay?" you ask, placing a hand on his uninjured shoulder.
"Yeah," Fox manages. He's feeling a little woozy, but he tries to push it down. "I'll be fine."
You give him a sympathetic look, and he looks away, his gaze fixed on the wall.
"Okay," you say. You grab a vial and a syringe and inject it into his arm. "This should help numb the pain. Try not to move."
Fox nods, and you lean closer, gently cleaning the wound. The smell of the disinfectant is strong, and he forces himself to focus on your face instead. Your expression is calm, and you're humming softly as you work, and he finds himself relaxing a little more.
"How did this happen, anyway?"
"Like I said, it's work-related."
"So it was a knife, then?"
Fox glances at the gash, and he nods. He can't tell if the cut is deep enough to require stitches or not, and he's a little worried that the knife might have hit an artery.
"You're going to have a nice scar."
"Good. It'll match the others," he mutters, his tone flat.
You pause for a moment, looking at him. Your expression is unreadable, but there's a sadness in your eyes that he doesn't understand. You resume cleaning the wound, and he tries not to think about it.
"Do you always go out in the field?" you ask.
"Sometimes."
"And do you usually get injured like this?"
"It's not uncommon."
"Hmm." You're quiet for a few moments, and then you glance up at him, your eyes filled with concern. "You're very brave."
Fox is stunned. No one has ever said anything like that to him before, and it catches him off guard. He doesn't know how to respond, and he just sits there, staring at you. You don't seem to mind, and you return your attention to his wound.
"This is a lot deeper than I thought," you murmur. "It'll need a few stitches."
"Okay," he says, his voice soft.
"Try to relax," you say, gently touching his arm.
He nods, and you begin to sew up the wound. He tries not to think about the fact that the needle is digging into his flesh, and instead focuses on the feeling of your gloved hands on his skin. They're gentle and warm, and the scent of the disinfectant is beginning to fade, replaced by the faintest trace of flowers.
He can't remember the last time someone touched him so tenderly. His brothers are rarely so careful, and most people who touch him are doing so with the intention of causing him harm. It's a pleasant change, and he finds himself enjoying it more than he expected.
"Sorry," you say, glancing up at him. "Almost done."
"Take your time," Fox replies. "I'm in no rush."
That's patently untrue, but the lie slips from his lips easily, and he's rewarded by a smile. He can see Thorn giving him a pointed look, and he knows that his brother will never let him live it down. But right now, he doesn't care.
The smell of flowers grows stronger, and he realizes that it's coming from you. The scent is subtle, but pleasant, and he's surprised by how much he likes it. He wonders what the source is. Is it your hair? Your skin? Or maybe it's something you wear, like perfume. He can't quite tell, and the mystery is starting to bother him.
You finish suturing his wound, and you dab some bacta gel over the stitches, sealing them. The sensation is cool and soothing, and Fox lets out a soft sigh of relief.
"How does that feel?" you ask.
"Better."
"Good," you say, your expression softening. You reach out and squeeze his uninjured shoulder, and Fox's eyes widen slightly at the unexpected gesture. "You should be all set, Commander."
"Thanks," he says, and the word sounds awkward in his ears. He's never thanked anyone for treating his wounds before. Usually, it was a medic droid, or another trooper, and his thanks were never required. But somehow, the words seem necessary now.
"Of course," you say, a hint of surprise in your voice. You remove your gloves, tossing them in the bin, and turn to clean up your equipment. "Do you have any other injuries, Commander? Any other...work-related incidents?"
"No, nothing else."
"Good." You stand up and stretch, and Fox takes the opportunity to admire the shape of your body. He can't help himself, and he quickly looks away, a flush rising on his cheeks.
"Thank you," Thorn chimes in, and Fox nearly jumps out of his skin. He had almost forgotten that the other commander was there, and his brother is looking at him with a knowing smile.
"You're welcome," you say, smiling at Thorn. You turn to Fox and offer him a smile, too, and he tries to smile back. It probably looks more like a grimace, and he quickly drops it.
"Now, remember, if that gets infected, or the stitches come loose before they dissolve, I want you to come right back, okay? No excuses."
"Got it," Fox replies.
"I mean it, Commander," you say, and you give him a stern look. "Don't make me hunt you down."
Fox blinks, his heart skipping a beat. You're serious, and he finds himself nodding, agreeing without thinking.
"Yes, sir," he says, and then mentally curses himself. "Doctor."
You chuckle, and the sound makes his chest tighten. It's the nicest sound he's heard all day, and he can't help but smile. You give him a playful salute, and he returns it, and you laugh again.
"Well, I hope we don't see each other anytime soon," you say, grinning.
"Me, too," Fox mutters, before he stiffens. "I mea—"
"I know what you mean," you say, your eyes sparkling. You hold out a hand, and he hesitates for a moment before taking it. Your skin is warm, and his breath catches in his throat when you gently squeeze his hand. "Take care, Commander."
"You, too," he says, and your smile widens.
You pick up your datapad and step around the cot, moving towards the door. As you pass him, Fox catches another hint of the flowery scent, and his eyes widen. Lavender. It's lavender.
"Have a good day, gentlemen," you say. You flash him one last smile, and then you're gone.
He lets out a long, slow breath, trying to process what just happened. He feels... strange. There's an odd warmth in his chest, and he's still not quite sure what it is. He doesn't think it's anything bad, but it's new, and he doesn't know what to do with it. Maybe it's the blood loss. Or the painkillers. Or maybe it's the bacta. Yeah, it's probably the bacta.
Thorn slaps him on the back, and he lets out a startled noise, nearly falling off the cot.
"I don't know what the hell that was," Thorn says, chuckling. "But it was the most pathetic thing I've ever seen."
"Shut up."
"Seriously," he continues. "She's definitely way out of your league. I might even say she's way out of mine."
"I'm leaving," Fox grumbles. He grabs his armor and starts putting it on, trying not to wince as the plates rub against the bandages. "Get out of my way."
"Sure, sure," Thorn says, stepping aside. He gives Fox a sidelong glance, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Just make sure you give her your frequency."
Fox stops, his helmet half-on. He stares at Thorn, his mouth agape, and then turns away, pulling his bucket on over his head. He's not about to give Thorn the satisfaction of an answer. Not when his brother is clearly enjoying his discomfort so much.
He stalks out of the room, his boots echoing against the tile floor. Thorn follows, laughing, and Fox can feel his cheeks burning. He keeps his head down, his shoulders hunched, and he's determined not to speak another word.
As they walk through the lobby, he notices you standing at the desk, speaking to the receptionist. You're not smiling anymore, but Fox can still see the ghost of it on your lips, and he feels the strange warmth growing inside him.
Thorn elbows him, and Fox lets out a hiss, glaring at him through his visor. He's already starting to regret allowing Thorn to drag him here. This whole experience had been far more traumatic than the injury itself, and he would have been better off ignoring it. But as he looks back at you, his gaze lingering on your form, he finds that he doesn't really regret it. At least not entirely.
The receptionist hands you a datapad, and you nod, thanking her. You turn and look at him, and he quickly ducks his head, pretending to adjust his pauldron.
"Commander!" you call out. "Wait a moment."
Fox stops, and Thorn snorts. He turns and sees you approaching, a small smile on your lips.
"Forget something?" he asks, and he winces internally at how gruff his voice sounds.
"Yes, actually," you say, stopping in front of him.
"Okay," he says slowly. He doesn't really understand why you're talking to him again, but he's not complaining. "What is it?"
"Your frequency."
Fox freezes, his eyes widening. He can't believe what he's hearing, and for a moment, he's convinced that he's misheard. It doesn't seem possible. Not with how the day has gone so far.
He glances over at Thorn, who's practically vibrating with excitement, and he quickly turns back to you, his heart racing.
"Uh..."
"I'll have the receptionist check in on you every few days, just to make sure everything is healing up okay," you continue. You hold out your datapad, and he takes it automatically. "But if there's any complications, or you notice anything unusual, don't hesitate to contact me, okay?"
The breath leaves his lungs, and he's grateful for the bucket over his head. Right. Of course. You're his doctor. This is completely professional. The disappointment that floods his veins is surprising, and he mentally scolds himself. What had he been expecting, anyway?
“That won’t be necessary," he says, handing the datapad back. "But thank you."
You frown. "Commander..."
"It's fine." He turns and gestures for Thorn to follow. "Come on, we've got work to do."
He can hear Thorn muttering behind him, and he knows that his brother is probably annoyed, but he doesn't care. The warmth inside him has vanished, replaced by an uncomfortable numbness. He doesn't know what he was hoping for, and he's glad that the conversation is over. It's better this way.
You call out after him, but he ignores you, and within moments, he's out of the building and back on the street. Thorn is right behind him, and they start the long trek back to the office.
"I can't believe you just did that," Thorn mutters.
"Did what?" Fox asks. He doesn't look at him, keeping his eyes fixed forward. He can feel his face heating up, and he's suddenly feeling very tired.
"You're an idiot," Thorn says, shaking his head.
"Shut up."
They walk in silence for a few minutes, and Fox tries not to think about the conversation. It doesn't matter, and it's better to just forget it.
He's been doing this job long enough to know that it’s dangerous to get attached to people, especially when they were civilians. Things never worked out, and the risk of getting hurt was too great. He'd seen too many of his brothers get their hearts broken by the citizens they were trying to protect, and he wasn't about to let that happen to him. It wasn't worth it. And you weren't special, anyway. You were just another natborn.
He repeats these thoughts to himself over and over, and eventually, he starts to believe them. The warmth inside him disappears, and the numbness returns. He's relieved. He's finally starting to get his head on straight, and the sooner he forgets about you, the better.
And yet, when they reach the Senate building, Fox hesitates. His eyes wander towards the medical center towering over the cityscape, and he feels a twinge in his chest. He tries to ignore it, and he continues walking, heading towards the office. But the ache doesn't go away, and the image of your smile lingers in his mind, taunting him.
He doesn't know why it bothers him so much. He'd only just met you, and it was nothing but a brief conversation. There was no reason to be upset. But somehow, it feels like something was taken from him. And he can't figure out what it was.
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I HAVE A MIGHTY NEED TO BAKE FOR THE WOLFPACK NO ACTUALLY THE ENTIRE GAR.
@moonlightwarriorqueen what do you meannn they don’t get cookies??? My inner grandma WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS.
(Academically I know they’d only have rations but the boys deserve all the sweet things forever)
I know you warned us about the levels of cute in this but I’m biting the bars of my enclosure because of the adorable-but I love them so much and soft!Wolffe is the literal icing on the cake.
Okay so, confession time!
This was originally a fic for Wolffe (with a different title) but Comet fucking took over by storm like the monsters inc swat 💀 so I wrote it all...but then it was weird cuz there's all this Comet in Wolffe's fic 😅 So I split them, gave Comet's a new title and BAM! Here we are.
Fingers crossed I can fix the Wolffe parts into what was supposed to be his fic 🤣
Warnings: cuteness overload. Wolffe being playful with his bby bro...? Comet stealing your fucking heart cuz he's a cutie patootie
Comet and Cookies
Comet x Reader
Life was simple, albeit a little boring, nothing extraordinary came your way. Every day, week, month and year came and went like the last - sure there were a few small differences. Friendships that came and went, hobbies that flitted by...but ultimately...life was just a set of actions and events set on repeat.
But then war came.
Suddenly everyone and their grandmother were speaking about the battles, the carnage and of hatred. Hate for the other side...and hate for the soliders that were part of the now established army of the republic. It was jarring at first, but your life wasn't much disrupted...until one night.
You were closing up from a day of work, shop void of customers, the bewing stations and ovens no longer thumming loudly...it was then that you ran into something most jedi now saw everyday.
A clone trooper.
He seemed a little frazzled, as he waved at you enthusiastically from the glass door, though it was hard to tell with his helmut on.
Strangely, you had no unease or fear...so you made your way to the locked door and opened it a crack
"...yes...? I'm sorry we're closed" You said politely
"Ah, I'm sorry...I got seperated from my brothers..." the clone laughed sheepishly "And my comm isnt functioning properly. Could I use the store's? I...need to call them to come get me"
You stared at him for a moment, debating on what to do...but found yourself letting him in - your heart going out to him over the nervous tone vibrating through his helm.
"Thank you so much...!" He breathed a sigh of releif.
The trooper followed you in and right to the communication device the store had, promptly removing his helmut and pressing buttons.
He was young, you noticed, probably relatively new to the war and his armour, while painted, seemed absolutely flawless. It's design was an intricate sweeping of lines, something you'd seen in pinstriping artist's work.
"-I'm at...one second," he leaned his head away from the device and whispered to you "Where am i?"
With a soft smile, at his confused boyish attitude, you walked over to say loud enough for the clone across the line could hear.
"Mid levels, the place is called 'Caf and cookies'. We're up the street from that seedy old theatre" you then leaned a bit more into his space to make sure his brother heard your directions as you gave him the formal address
"Alright, Comet. Stay put, I'll come get you" Came the exhausted sounding reply
"Yes, sir"
Just as the call was ending, you could hear another clone in the background
"Did our Vod'ika finally answer?!"
The two of you stepped away from the comm. As you did, you turned to the trooper, Comet, before you
"So...new on this planet...?"
"Unfortunately...my brothers thought it was a good idea to go to 79s to celebrate...and I may have tripped and fell...a few levels... into the back of a speeder" Comet mumbled embaressed "This place is very different than Kamino"
You only smiled and gestured him to a stool as you continued to clean up, then offered him a drink and one of the handful of cookies left over
"Sorry they're not fresh, but they are from today" you called as you yanked a mop from the cupboard
"We don't ever get cookies, so...as far as I'm concerned, this is the best they'll ever be" He beamed excitedly
You laughed softly, though saddened by his remark, and made your way back over to the mop
"Wait, wait! Let me do it!" Comet jumped up, cookie crumbs on his lips
"Oh...uh...it's alright, I can do this" You said softly with a touch of surprise from his eagerness
"No way! You've helped me so much already, its my turn to help you back!" he pleaded with glittering eyes
Who were you to refuse?
"Alright, so we just dunk this end into the bucket-"
When Wolffe arrived at your establishment he wasn't quite sure what to do at first.
You were sitting on a stool, knees pulled up tight as you balanced carefully, while you laughed and spoke to his baby brother. He only intended to knock, wait for Comet to run over then yell a 'thank you' to you before dragging the young man away. But now, as he stood watching the two of you, he felt unable to pry you two apart. He'd been worried about Comet's quiet demeanor since setting foot off the battlefeild. And yet...here he was, watching some random woman getting his little brother to laugh and be playful. You were doing what his entire batallion hadn't been able to.
But soon enough, whatever little spell had kept you and Comet contained to a happy little bubble popped. Having been spotted, Wolffe gave an awkward hand up in acknowledgement before you rushed to let him in
"I'm so sorry...!" you rushed out in an embaressed fluster "I should have been paying attention"
"'ts fine, I was a little distracted watching you two have fun" he mumbled, such a phrase seemingly for your ears only
"Why don't you come in? I'll put together the rest of the cookies and you two can share" You offered, feeling a bit of heat travel to your cheeks.
The commander glanced to Comet, to see a sheepish grin and the trooper setting the mop against the wall carefully, then returned his gaze to you. Wolffe studied you for a moment, taking stock of what he could of you, but relented with a slight nod as he saw only sincere kindness in your gaze
"Perfect, just give me a moment!" You scurried back into the kitchen, leaving the two alone
"So...learning to mop?" Wolffe jabbed with a stern kind of playfulness
"Ah, yes sir...I felt bad...ya know, with her gifting so much assitance and not giving anything in return" Comet stood straight as a needle as he spoke, but Wolffe made note of the colour tinting his brother's cheeks
The commander shook his head then patted his Comet's shoulder
"It was good to see you loosening up, we were all wondering if the battlefield had stomped you out for good"
The two were quiet for a moment. Just existing in the quiet before you came barrelling through the doors with a box done up with a bow
"Are those ours?" Comet gawked
"You...didn't need to do this...really" Wolffe mumbled, watching you make your way to them both
"Nonsense, I can't eat all these myself..." you teased softly
You took Wolffe's gloved hand and settled the small box in his palm
"And...." you glanced at your new buddy "I put the address and comm of the shop, as well as my personal one. Should you get lost..." you then glanced back to the older of the two "and should you lose him again."
"Really, this is too much..."
"Just in case" you smiled, showing them out "I have a feeling this won't be the last time someone shows up here"
And it wasn't.
Perhaps it was the force that dictated that poor Comet get lost again... Perhaps the force decided that afterwards Comet would go out of his way to retreat to you, inevitably bringing his big brother along to collect him again and again. As such, you came to expect your little oddities in your days and nothing brought you more joy then the sound of fabric-covered knuckles rasping against the glass in the same little pattern that only Comet would ever omit.
"Lost again...?" you teased as you stepped back and let the young trooper into the closed shop.
"Actually...not this time" he smiled, bucket under his arm as he nervously ran his hand back and forth over his scalp
You eyed him curiously, but waited for him to continue at his own place
"Was wonderin'...maybe...this time..." he mumbled with pink dusting his cheeks "Maybe instead of you finding me...I steal you...?"
You felt your lips twich and scrawl open as you couldnt help beaming at his sweet words
"Are you...asking me on a date...?" you taunted playfully
"No..." he glanced away, but his gaze only left you for a moment or two "I'm asking if i can steal you...for the night"
You let him squirm in place for a few moments before you ultimately gave in and let out a giggle.
Nodding, you turned around and ran back into your shop. You threw the mop haphazardly into the closet then all but slammed your hand down on the light switches before you rushed back to the door with your sweater in hand.
Comet chuckled at your actions but otherwise just watched you with a lovestruck look on his face and dopey grin to match it.
"Steal me away" you urged in a coo, holding your arm out for him to snag
Instead, he wrapped his arm around your middle and hugged you tightly
"You sure...?" he whispered softly, lips just brushing your cheek
"Absolutely...I'm all yours" you promised sweetly in return.
Unprepared for the sheer level of excited bliss oozing from him, you squeaked as Comet held you tightly and spun you one, twice, thrice around before setting your feet back on the ground
"Let's go! The night's young...and I can't wait to spend every moment with you!"
It was then that you truly realized...your life would be nothing but happy and sweet from now on.
Star divider by Saradika and can be found here
Reblog divider by dystopicjumpsuit 💜
wrecker text posts!!! he deserves so much love and more attention!!!!
tech | wrecker | omega | crosshair | echo | hunter
Black moonstone-patchouli-chime candle 🖤
Thank you for asking! Let's get this lovely chime candle, and roll it in Patchouli pieces and then melt the bottom and settle it on the black moonstone...
Let's see what kind of spell this creates! 💜
Warnings: Wrecker is adorable, reader is a jedi. Verbal prompt is in blue. This is the one bed trope. Wrecker thinks close contact laying with a jedi (such as cuddles or sleeping next to one) will get them kicked from the order - its Crosshair's fault.
A spell for warmth and protection
Wrecker x reader
You usually didn't go with the batch on missions. Usually, you'd meet the squad of essentric commandos at the location designated for your joint mission then continue from there. Even on the mission you rarely stuck right next to them, opting to camp at the far side of their encircling bedrolls and tents. There was no real reason for it - it was just what you had always done. You'd never though much past such a fact...until tonight-
You stared at the hotel bed before you, pain still shooting through your side from where the blaster bolt had struck you. Beside you, the biggest of the four towered as he too looked at the singular bed
"Ah...I....I can sleep on the floor" he dragged out with a touch of embaressment in his tone
"That's not fair" you sighed
"You're hurt" he insisted
"You're hurt more" you countered, gesturing to the binded bandages across his torso - some peeking from between his armour
Wrecker huffed, a childish looking pout crossing his features as he tried to think of another point to make
"This is nonsense" you shook your head and turned your gaze back to the offending furniture.
It wasn't a nice bed by any means, but would do the job for the night and appeared relatively clean. And it was definitely bigger than you needed - probably bigger than Wrecker was used to as well.
"I can call Hunter, he can fi-"
"We're not exactly on home turf here" you pointed out softly
Wrecker deflated a bit at the reminder.
"Right...getting the staff mad will cause a scene we cant afford..." the commando mumbled with his ever growing pout
"We're both adults..." you sat down on the mattress then patted the other side of the bed "we can sleep in the one bed"
"Together..." Wrecker's tone questioned your idea, though he still did as you non-verbally asked and rounded to the other side
"Yes" you nodded
"It...won't get you in trouble...right?" he asked as he settled himself down, the mattress shifting with his weight
"In trouble..." you mused in confusion "Why would it get me in trouble?"
"Well..." he nervously chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck instinctually but winced as it pulled at tender muscles "C-Cross said that Jedi can't touch clones at bedtime - that's why you never sleep with us"
You couldn't help the silly grin that pulled at your cheeks
"He said that?"
"Yeah!" Wrecker nodded "Said the teachin's why you won't fly with us either...!"
You let out a soft snort at the idea
"...he lied, didn't he...?" the large clone groaned, putting a hand to his face "I knew it sounded like...well not right!"
You swiveled in your spot beside him and began tugging softly at the latches of his armour
"There's no rules against where I sleep, with whom I sleep next to or whom I fly with" you explained as you continued
Wrecker let you undo his armour, piece by piece, glad to have it off him and set to the side.
Your gaze quickly tracked the wounds across his chest whre bacta had been applied - as each location had darkened the bandages.
"So why not?"
"huh?" you blinked, tilting your gaze up to meet his
"Why didn't you?"
You could see the confusion and vague hurt eminating from his form at the idea you willingly wouldn't join him and his brothers.
"I...just didn't" you shrugged, the question leaving you void of an answer for him
"But its dangerous!" he protested "I know you have the saber and the force..." he wiggled his fingers as if that is what made the force work "but!"
You watched as he paused and glanced at his lap, looking sheepish
"But...?"
"Well, I was worried...'bout you" Wrecker confessed softly "Every time..."
Wrecker peeked at you, then grabbed the hem of your robe - not daring to formally grab at you during such a vulnerable exchange but seeking that physical connection as he always did.
"Every time you didn't come with us, i'd worry about you. I'd peek out of my tent just to make sure you were right where i saw you had bene when you went to bed. I tried to stay close as i could...but I didn't want to get you in trouble - or make you uncomfortable"
You could feel your chest grow warm as your heart swelled at his sweet admissions and caring nature.
"Thank you" you whispered as you felt heat gather in your cheeks
"Ahw...it's...it's nothin'" he mumbled looking embaressed
You peeked at his crude bandages then fished out the spare aid kit you kept with you
"Alright, let me take better care of those wounds" you resettled beside him and reached for the first bandage's tie
"Uh...its alright" The sweet commando insisted "Really, I've survived worse"
You gave him a look
"Wrecker, whether you have or not isn't in question. The fact is, I can't just let you stew in barely dressed wounds. I may not be a healer - but I know how to clean and dress injuries..."
Wrecker fussed a bit but inevitably let you take care of him. Let you delicately pry the bandages from his blacks and gingerly over the holes that exposed his skin and clotted wounds. Let you pull his shirt from him and then let you clean each painful location across his torso.
Wrecker hissed as you put the last patch on, it happened to cover the most painful looking one out of the group, but you could tell by how taut his muscles were he was trying his best to stay still for you.
Suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge, you leaned in and kissed next to this particular wound.
"There, now it won't hurt - promise"
Wrecker stared at you wide-eyed and jaw ajar as you pulled back and fished out more patches
"Uh- but..." his voice called your attention to return to his confused face "you got em all"
You stifled a giggle as he gesutred to his new bandages - he thought you were fishing more out for him.
"I need your help" you explained softly as you handed him the sterile patch and the bacta solution.
You then hicked up the side of your robes to expose your upper thigh and hip - where you'd been shot earlier
"I can't see it very well, so...you'll have to help me"
"ah....okay...." he paused looking a bit unsure "I don't usually do this part"
You then walked Wrecker through cleaning and banadging your wound properly - well as proper as you two could manage without being medics.
To his credit, he was very good with his hands and the fine motor abilities needed to do so as painlessly as possible. He didn't mess up placing the banadge nor secured it too tightly - both which you did accidentally to him only a short time ago.
The moment he was done, Wrecker looked at you then at the bandage, then back again as if waiting for something - or perhaps debating something...it was hard to tell
But then he leaned over and pressed a delicate peck against your skin before pulling up quickly and mumbling "so it won't hurt anymore" just as you'd done for him.
Both your faces were hot but with the bandaging complete, you both set to fixing the bed up for the night. Ensuring the door was locked tight and all grimy parts of your attire set to the side until tomorrow, the two of you settled into the bed to go to sleep.
Only sleep wasn't coming to either of you - no matter how hard you tried.
You heard your name whispered as heated breath fanned across your shoulder
"Mmm?"
"I can't sleep" Your bedtime buddy mumbled "uh...can...can I hold you?"
You felt that heat rise back to your cheeks at the ask but remembering your past words on how you both could sleep in bed with one another and have no problems arise...
"Alright" you whispered back
Not even a moment passed before his thick, warm arms wrapped around you and pulled you back into his chest. The heat from his form enveloped you like sheets coming fresh from the dryer and you felt your eyelids droop at the sudden comforting aura.
"This is better" he insisted with a yawn punctuating his words
You nodded, feeling yourself dozing off already.
Wrecker held you a little tighter and pressed his face to your shoulder. Nuzzling against it breifly as he relaxed and felt himself get heavy. As if merely having you in his arms would protect you this night from all that lingered beyond, as if it were a simple spell to keep you safe from all that wished to harm you.
Build-a-spell Masterlist (wip)
Dividers by me
Reblog divider by dystopicjumpsuit 💜
how do people get through their lives without thinking about fiction during their every waking hour
Absence//Fonder Pt. 2
Summary: The boys surprise you with a trip to your home world and a vocabulary lesson.
Pairing: The Bad Batch x medic fem!reader (pronouns she/her, no physical descriptions, no y/n, pet names)
Warnings: Crosshair, angst (not much I swear!), fluff so sweet you’ll need your dentist, sweet kisses ( the smut happens in chapter 3 😏) but MINORS DNI
Written while listening to “Tell Her You Love Her” by Echosmith
Series playlist can be found here!
Part 1 Part 3
Word count: 3132
Crosshair had been called many things in his life. Talented, cocky, aloof to name a few. No one had ever called him a coward though. It was in his very nature to look at the impossible and find a way.
The odds didn’t matter.
He and his brothers had faced forces that would have given much larger squads pause, and they’d never hesitated. Never felt like they couldn’t get the job done.
Yet there he was, stomach twisted into knots, muscles in his legs twitching with the desire to bolt, afraid. Not afraid of a battalion of clankers, rollies, and spiders.
No. He was afraid of a nat born medic, who clutched Wrecker’s arm like a lifeline during turbulence. A medic who could sew up her own wounded leg without batting an eye, but would discharge her blaster at the sight of an insect. A medic who was the epitome of soft, yet had the power to crush him in the palm of her hand.
He’d never told anyone he cared for them, nor had he asked anyone what they felt for him. Quite frankly he didn’t give a fuck. The fleeting attentions of strangers, whose names he would forget immediately, had been more than enough to scratch the well-concealed itch for a semblance of connection.
Now, you were ruining him without even trying. Punching a hole straight through his carefully crafted armor. Making him weak.
And in a few moments, depending on your reaction, you could break all five of them. Clone Force 99 could be brought to its knees by you in a single instant.
He watched his brothers as they led you towards the location Tech had chosen. Excitement radiated off of you like a sun’s rays. He would never admit it, but he was dying to be wrong this time. He wanted to believe that you could love them. That you could love him.
Blindfolded, you were unable to see the looks of hope and affection etched onto their shared features. You were simply excited for another adventure with them. Hunter’s hands rested securely on your shoulders with your hands over them.
The sergeant had woken you up upon landing with a bandana in hand.
“We’ve got a surprise for you,” he said, as you got dressed.
“Really?” you asked, mind racing as you tried to imagine what it was. It wasn’t your birthday, their decant day, or any other holiday. Not that it mattered. The fact that the five of them had formed a plan to surprise you damn near made your brain short circuit. That showed a level of care and consideration you had rarely even received from people you were seriously dating.
“Yep, gotta make sure you don’t peek though,” he said waving the bandana.
You resisted the urge to make a filthy joke about being tied up for them and instead turned so Hunter could tie the bandana on. The world went dark, and you took a nervous breath until you felt Hunter’s hands on your shoulders, and you relaxed. He would never let anything happen to you.
“Where’s my bucket?” You asked, suddenly feeling naked without it.
“You won’t need it here,” Hunter said, steering you towards the door.
“Is this some kind of initiation thing?” you asked, breaking the silence. “Testing my bravery to prove I’m one of you?”
Wrecker snorted, “That’s a pretty good idea! We could dangle you over a cliff by your ankle?”
“If I don’t scream, I’m in?” You asked with a giggle.
“Grow up, you two,” Crosshair said, and you swore you could hear him rolling his eyes.
“…yes.” Wrecker whispered in answer to your question, setting off more giggles.
“We’ve got a little hike coming up, so one of us will carry you,” Hunter said, as you all came to a stop.
Even blindfolded you knew where all of them were by their steps. You reached for Wrecker, but Hunter caught your hand.
“Wrecker’s got his hands full,” Hunter said, and you could hear a smile in his voice. It made your stomach flip with excitement.
“Ooooh, the plot thickens.” You stepped forward and instead found Tech’s shoulders, wrapping your arms around him. You made a soft noise of surprise, as he grabbed your thighs, and hoisted you off the ground easily.
“Are you comfortable?” Tech asked.
“Yes, sir,” you reply, face pressed against the side of Tech’s helmet.
You hum softly, listening to the sound of your squads’ steps, mind conjuring all sorts of fantastic scenarios for what they could have planned.
It was quiet and warm, and you could hear their boots crunching over dry ground, so you knew you weren’t on Kamino. You had been sleeping for the majority of the trip, and blindfolded before stepping off of the ship, so you couldn’t use the stars for clues.
You hummed softly as the trek continued, occasionally grinning when Wrecker would chuckle at some joke from Echo you couldn’t quite make out. You were close to beginning a round of “Are we there yet?” when Tech stopped, and slowly released his grip on your thighs.
“We have arrived at our intended destination,” he said, as you got your feet under yourself after several minutes of being carried.
Hunter removed the bandana, and you looked around. A small city twinkled in the valley below your position atop a massive hill. You looked to the rich blue night sky above, and connected the stars. Your brow furrowed a moment before the realization hit you. You were home…well, your home world. Home was the Marauder now. A lump formed in your throat, and tears pooled in your eyes.
“You brought me home?” You asked, turning to face them, smiling even as the tears poured down your face.
“We missed you, and we thought this would be a good welcome home surprise,” Echo said.
“It was Hunter’s idea,” Tech supplied.
“Oh, Hunter, this is perfect!” You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head against his chest. “Thank you.”
Hunter held you close a moment, before releasing you slowly to smile down at you.
“This is a pretty special spot, you know?” You asked tucking your arms behind your back and rising up on the balls of your feet.
“Yes, I selected it for that very reason. The local population has designated this as a place to share important news with loved ones,” Tech said, clearly proud of himself.
“Right as always, Tech,” you beamed at him. “Planning to share some news?”
“Actually we thought today might be a nice day to teach you some Mando’a, so you know what we’re saying to you,” Hunter said nodding towards Wrecker, who took a deep breath and stepped up to take your hands.
“Finally!” You cheered, buzzing with excitement.
A bright smile lit up your features as you looked up at him. He smiled warmly, eyes roaming your face. You’d only been gone a couple of weeks, but Wrecker had missed you fiercely every moment.
“Well, we call you ‘mesh’la’ cause it means beautiful. Easy to see why. You are beautiful inside and out,” Wrecker said before taking you gently by your arms and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
Your heart jumped and your breath hitched. You cleared your throat and said, “I knew I liked that one.”
He smiled warmly, and stepped to the side, gently guiding you to Echo, who took one of your hands next. He rested his scomplink against your waist, and you held his bicep, as you beamed expectantly at him.
“We call you ‘saraad’ because it means flower. You make every place you’re in brighter, more alive.” Echo kissed your forehead, and you felt anticipation buzzing in your chest. Your heart beat faster than before, as Tech took his place before you could even react.
“Senaar’ika means little bird. You are always eager to take flight whether you are ready or not. Brave, reckless to be certain, but brave nonetheless,” straight to the point as ever, Tech pressed a kiss to your cheek.
You released a shuddering breath, your face warming up under their gentle affections. Am I dreaming? You thought, now scared to move or speak for fear of breaking the spell they were weaving around you.
Hunter hesitated only a moment before resting a hand on your waist, as the other cupped your cheek, his thumb rubbing soothingly over your cheekbone. Your eyes met his, as you placed your hands on his chest and held your breath.
“‘Cyare’ is one you’ve heard more and more lately. The closest word in basic is beloved,” Hunter said, and you knew he’d heard your heart skip a beat before racing away.
“You’re special to us, and we want to keep you close…closer,” Hunter took a deep breath, his warm brown eyes held yours. “We’ve fallen for you, and we hope that’s ok. Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to.”
“You’ve fallen for me? I-, I…I can’t even…” you stammered, simultaneously thrilled and confused. You took a deep breath, lifting one hand to rest over his against your face, the other sliding up to caress his face.
“Is it ok, if I kiss you now?” He asked. You nodded immediately.
He smiled and leaned down to press his lips to yours. You didn’t wake up. His arm wrapped around your waist, and you knew it was real. He pulled back and pressed his forehead to yours.
“Been wanting to do that for awhile now,” he confessed.
“That makes two of us…or maybe 6 of us,” you said with a nervous laugh.
You’d thought of no less than a dozen different scenarios when Hunter had blindfolded you, but you never imagined this could be a possibility. Not even in your wildest dreams did you allow yourself to believe that the 5 amazing men standing before you could care for you the way you cared for them.
There’s a relieved sigh from behind Hunter, and you leaned around him to see Crosshair properly. His eyes were taking you in much like he had upon your return. Drinking you in while he figured out what to say. You looked up at Hunter, and he nodded, stepping back to give you a path to Crosshair. Taking a deep breath, you make your way towards the sniper.
For the first time since you met him, you reached for Crosshair, taking hold of him with confidence. Your eyes met his, a light smile playing on your lips.
“Any special words you wanna teach me, Crosshair?” You asked, hoping your voice was steady.
“You already know my favorite word for you. The one that’s been going through my mind since you left,” Crosshair said quietly, bringing his lips within an inch of yours.
“And what word would that be?” you asked, moving closer to let your lips brush his.
“Mine,” he said before closing the distance between you, kissing you with relief. The first kiss had been almost hesistant, as a part of him was sure he was stealing affection that wasn’t meant for him. But it was meant for him. You wanted him…all of them. You weren’t running away or pulling back. You were in his arms, holding him close like he belonged to you.
Wrecker cleared his throat noisily, and Crosshair broke the kiss to give him a look.
“Just for that, you can go last,” Crosshair sneered, guiding you towards Tech, who pulled you close and let his arms settle comfortably around your waist. Just like before your arms rested over his shoulders, this time your fingers carded gently through his hair.
“I hope that you will be willing to answer a few questions for me, senaar’ika. I have been compiling data for quite some time, and despite today’s success, I still have some theories to test in order to draw definitive conclusions.”
“I’ll indulge your experiments, if you’ll indulge mine,” you said with a mysterious little smile.
“Well, of course, I am more than happy to assist in the pursuit of knowledge,” Tech replied. Happy with your response he leaned in to brush his lips softly over yours. You whined, wanting more, and he pressed closer, letting you feel his need for you. Tech’s kiss was just like him, a curious exploration that left you giddy.
He pulled back, and opened his mouth to say more, but Wrecker cut him off, “Maker, Tech, you can talk her ear off later. We’ve still got another thing to give her!”
“Despite the rudeness of his delivery, Wrecker is correct. We do have another surprise for you,” Tech said, releasing you slowly, as Echo moved close to pull you into his arms.
“I almost slipped up and kissed you last night, so I may need to make up for that,” Echo said, before kissing you slow and deep. You were so sure your heart was actually going to break its way out of your ribcage if they kept going at this rate.
“Stars, Echo, I can think of a few more things for you to make up,” you said breathlessly, as he pulled back with a grin.
“Finally!” Wrecker said, spinning you around and scooping you up into his arms to press the softest kiss of all to your lips. He handled you with such care and affection, you couldn’t help but sigh happily against his lips.
“Kriff me, if I’d known this would happen, I’d have left sooner,” you said with a laugh, as Wrecker set you back down on your feet.
“Well, no more running off to help Cody because we missed you too much,” Wrecker said, caressing your face gently.
“I promise I won’t be doing that again for quite some time,” you confessed.
“Good, because Cross here, was worse than usual,” Hunter teased.
Crosshair scowled and folded his arms. “Just tell her the next surprise.”
“You belong with us no matter what, so Crosshair gave your helmet a little update,” Echo said from just beyond Wrecker, where Hunter and Tech had set up a fire, and a tent. You suspected that’s what had kept Wrecker’s hands full.
Echo straightened up and passed you your bucket. You looked down at it, and a smile slowly spread across your face. A tiny skull and a 99 now adorned your helmet like a kiss on the cheek.
“Cross, you did this for me?” You asked, turning to the sniper. It was difficult to tell in the low light, you could have sworn he was blushing.
“We thought you might like it,” Hunter said.
“I love it.”
***
The six of you gathered around a happily crackling fire, as you finally answered all of their questions about your time away. Crosshair watched you with rapt attention, appreciating all of your little quirks, as you discussed the missions you’d participated in, including the one that had resulted in your injury.
“Still pissed you got shot. Not surprised though. That always happens with regs,” Wrecker said, tightening his hold on your waist, as he held you to his side.
“Hey!” Echo said, leaning around you and gesturing to himself. “I’d never let her get shot.”
“You know I don’t mean you, Echo,” Wrecker said dismissively.
“It’s just a scratch, boys,” you laughed. “There’s barely even a scar.”
“We sent you to Commander Cody with no scratches, and we expected you to come back in the same condition,” Crosshair said gesturing at you with a toothpick.
“Though I would have chosen a less objectifying way to phrase it, I agree with Crosshair,” Tech said, looking up from his datapad. “I would have thought you would be in excellent hands with our Marshal Commander, and not in a position to take damage from a sniper.”
“Awwww, did Cody let your favorite toy get all scuffed? You want a new one?” You asked with a teasing lilt to your voice.
Crosshair shook his head slowly. Tech looked offended at the suggestion.
“And have to break in another one?” Hunter interjected. “No way. You’re stuck with us now.”
“Oh no,” you gasped in mock anguish. “Whatever shall I do? Stuck with my favorite people in the galaxy. Torture.”
You draped yourself dramatically over Wrecker’s legs, much to his amusement. His hearty laughter rumbled out of his chest, as he pulled you close to his chest, so you were sitting in his lap.
“Your favorite people? In the whole galaxy?” He asked, his mismatched eyes full of hope as they focused on yours.
“Absolutely. You have been for awhile,” you confessed. “I hated being away from all of you.” You looked around the fire at each of them before bringing your focus back to Wrecker. “I mean it. I don’t wanna do that again for a good long while.”
Satisfied, Wrecker cupped your face and brought his lips to yours again. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you felt yourself relax against him. His lips moved over yours with a gentle confidence that made you hum low in your throat, and press closer to him.
You broke the kiss, as a yawn forced its way out of you. You were still absolutely exhausted. The thrill of their confession had given you the sweetest sugar high, and you were crashing.
“You require rest,” Tech said, “I will take first watch.”
“I’ll take it,” Crosshair said, shooting a glance at Hunter, who had covered him the night before. He’d gotten you all to himself for several hours, and he knew the others were itching to snuggle with you. He was too relieved to be selfish. For now.
You stood up and stretched, reaching for the sky you’d grown up under before wandering over to Crosshair and kneeling down to press a soft kiss to his lips.
“Come snuggle with me soon,” you whispered.
He nodded, as he watched you rise and make your way into the tent.
“We’ll keep you company, Cross,” Wrecker said with a grin, as Tech and Echo followed you into the tent, and Hunter relaxed on his back to look up at the stars.
“Oh goody,” the sniper replied with a halfhearted roll of his eyes.
***
You’d worried it would be awkward, but going to sleep between Tech and Echo felt as natural as breathing. Echo spooned up behind you, your face against Tech’s chest. The three of you chatted quietly for a little while, while their hands moved over your body absently.
You began to drift in and out of consciousness, despite your desire to stay awake and enjoy their presence.
“Sleep, saraad,” Echo commanded gently. “We’ll all be here in the morning.”
“Promise?” You asked sleepily, as you nuzzled against Tech.
“Promise,” He said, wrapping his arm around your waist.
Warm and safe, you left yourself drift away.
tagging: @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @iamburdened @sunshinesdaydream @mythical-illustrator @the1sunshine1girl @stardusthuntress @thebahdbitch @wings-and-beskar @arctrooper69 @golden-nyx-ghost @iloveallmenandwomen @rexxdjarin @sleepingsun501 @starrylothcat @ladyzirkonia @pb-jellybeans @clio3kantarella @staycalmandhugaclone @ceraryn09 @skellymom @808tsuika
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L. Mid thirties, hoping to get lost in a galaxy far far away, clone wars, bad batch, and the high republic. She/her
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