Okay chat I tried making them equal in length the best I could, also I’ll update this to look nicer with some dividers in the future because my phone is bugging and will not let me add dividers rn 😭 - Saturn <3
-
Ryland:
It had been a while since either the both of you had been able to go out on a date together. You’ve been dealing with a harsh project deadline at work, and he’s been dealing with parent teacher conferences.
So safe to say that the moment you two had an evening to yourselves, you took advantage of it.
You were at a restaurant, one that was nice enough you had to dress up just a tad in some fancier clothing.
Ryland had been nothing but a gentleman, holding doors open for you, pulling out your chair for you and pushing you in, and also ordering you both some wine to start off your evening.
It was wonderful, nothing short of it. There was nothing worrying either of your minds, just the presence of one another.
You stare into Graces eyes as you swirl the wine in your glass, listening to every word that comes out of his mouth.
Whether it was how long it’s been since you’ve been able to have sex, or the wine you’ve drank almost two glasses of, it made every single dorky ramble he went on into the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.
Feeling some boldness, and the fact that the tables had long tablecloths almost to the floor, you start to nudge your foot against his ankle.
His stutters at the unexpected sensation, but with flashing you a smile, he pays no mind before continuing, moving to grab your hand across the table and rub his thumb along yours.
Creeping further up his leg, you slowly drag your foot across the dark slacks he adorned. He keeps talking, though a little confused and raises an eyebrow.
When you finally reach his thighs, his breath hitches and he stops his rambling, mouth agape just slightly.
He doesn’t say anything, but the moment your foot teases the soft outline of his cock in his pants, he softly gasps and his grasp on your hand tightens.
His cheeks flush as heat rises through him, shifting the way he’s sitting just slightly at the new position he finds himself in.
You can’t help but smirk, enjoying his reaction. “What’s wrong Ryland? Cat got your tongue?” You tease, adding a little more pressure with your heel.
He sharply inhales, keeling over in just the slightest amount that you notice it. He looks up at you with a tad bit of embarrassment and nervousness.
“Are…are you serious right now? Here?-“ He shout-whispers. He’s cut off, letting out another gasp as you add some more pressure, moving along the length of his now hardening cock.
You keep your smirk on your face, relishing in the way he crumbles under your touch. His hand continues to grasp yours tightly, the other gripping the fabric of the tablecloth as he tries and keeps his composure.
Let’s just say you two didn’t even make it to your apartment, instead opting to go at it in a nearby abandoned parking lot instead.
-
Colt:
After a long day on set, you found yourself in the first-aid tent on set.
Luckily, you were just fine. Instead, you were patching up small cuts on Colts face after a stunt went a little too harsh for your liking.
The tent wasn’t too far from the rest of the filmmaking crew, with sheer white sheets making up the ‘walls’.
You could see the shadow of each person who walked by, and it absolutely wasn’t soundproof at all.
Which, in hindsight, makes your next move a little stupid.
While Colt sits atop the infirmary table, you stand between his legs, his thighs resting on either side of your waist.
You dab some antiseptic wipes across a few of the cuts, Colt jolting and hissing through the sting.
“Oh cmon, it can’t hurt more than the stunt you just pulled.” You tease, moving to start bandaging his wounds.
“Hey, those are performative, this is not.” He whines, flicking his hand to try and ease the pain for just a second.
You hum in acknowledgement, before fully bandaging the cuts. Once he was settled, you can’t help but notice the position you’re in.
The table sits low enough that your hips are at the same level. Taking a quick glance at the sheets closing the entrance to make sure nobody was immediately walking in, you lean down and begin to mouth at his neck, grinding slowly against his hips.
“Woah-!” He starts, surprised at your actions before you use one of your hands to cover his mouth. He whines against it, sighing deeply enough you can feel the air from his nose against your hand.
You lean up from his neck, saliva shining in the light along his skin, to look him in the eyes. “Shhh…you wouldn’t want us to get caught Colt.” You warn.
He nods, grinding back against you, relishing pleasure your providing. His cock hardens beneath his clothes, the denim of his jeans hardly concealing anything.
He moans against your hand, one of his own grabbing at your waist while the other holds his body up.
His ankles wrap around your legs, keeping you locked in place to rut against him.
You continue to make small noises against his neck, making sure you aren’t kissing hard enough to leave any marks since the makeup department would have your head if you did so.
All of a sudden, you can feel his heels kicking against you as he scrambles to push you away.
You raise your eyebrow, leaning upwards and reluctantly back away, silently missing the warmth of his body against yours.
Before you could question the man on his actions, you get your answer as you turn to look at a crew member popping in to grab some files of some sort from the desk.
As soon as they leave, you turn back to Colt, eager to continue what you started. However, before you would get the chance to do so, the walkies on your belt chime in that you were needed somewhere on set.
You groan, leaning forward to give him one last kiss before you head out.
“We’ll continue this later, yeah?” You murmur, looking into his eyes with a sultry smile.
With a dumbstruck look he nods, fully enraptured by your words.
“Y-Yeah! Can’t wait...” He says, watching as you walk away.
-
Holland:
In the back of a taxi, you sit on Hollands lap next to Healy, who crosses his arms and grumbles to himself, leaning to look out the window.
After a rough stakeout and a few too many drinks, Holland had once again ruined the plan and you found yourselves getting into a taxi, your own little version of a getaway car. It was smaller than most cars, which resulted in you sitting on March’s lap.
You look out your window, watching the cars pass by. You jump a little in surprise as two hands reach around your midsection, bringing you back to lean against the man.
You try and act annoyed, but it’s hard to focus when the man presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, whispering, “m’sorry baby…” drunkenly.
You keep your annoyed demeanor up as long as you can, before a pothole in the road makes the car jump, causing you to land hard against the man’s lap.
In doing so, it causes you to basically rub up against the man, feeling the outline of his cock through the unusually thin pants he decided to wear today.
He makes a small noise against your neck, his arms tightening around your waist, pulling you back against him.
Smiling to yourself, you grind your hips down again, relishing in the way he lets out a gasp.
He continues holding you still as if you were going to disappear at any moment, out of his sight.
You glance over at Healy, who seems to have nodded off during the drive and is still facing the window.
The taxi driver was paying you all no attention, so you decide to make the most of it.
You purposely continue to fidget and stir in the man’s lap, feeling his hot breath against your neck and the small noises he makes against your skin.
“Shit…babydoll quit teasin’ me-“ He whispers, eyes squinting shut and basking in the pleasure your hips provide.
You hum in response, your hips hitting a particularly good spot. He presses his face into your skin and lets out a short moan into you, muffling his voice.
The sounds of the outside world and the car driving easily covered up the noises he was creating.
You continue your ministrations, grinding down harder and faster, keeping an eye on both the driver and Healy to make sure you don’t get caught.
He leans his head down, rest his forehead against your shoulder and lets out a small and muffled whine.
You can feel the way his dick has hardened in his pants, enjoying the twitch it does every now and then.
You can only imagine what it looks like beneath the fabric at this moment, ready to pounce the moment you guys get some alone time.
His hips buck up into you, stuttering slightly as you gradually build up his orgasm. One of his hands reaches down from your waist and slowly parts your thighs.
“…Two can play at this game, yeah?…” He whispers into your ear, trailing his hand down to rub at your clit through your pants.
You relax, leaning more of your body weight against him, feeling the way his large fingers feel you up through the fabric.
You two are interrupted, however, by the sudden skirrrt of the car as it brakes in front of Hollands house.
Quickly, you remove hollands hand from your center, since Holland was too drunk to realize that your playtime was being interrupted.
Healy seemingly wakes up from the braking of the car and quickly gets out on his side of the car and heads over to pay the driver.
While he does so, you unlock your side of the car and get off Hollands lap, silently missing the warmth of his body.
He also gets up, stumbling a bit and you have to help him from almost tripping, but once he’s out of the car he’s fine.
You pull the man’s head down by the tie, hearing him grunt in response to the sudden movement.
“We’ll continue this later, yeah?” You mumble in his ear, relishing in the way he almost goes weak in the knees.
“Y-Yeah-Yes, please, thank god-“ he nods, stumbling over his words.
You leave him standing there as you go to catch up with Healy, who was already halfway into the house.
Holland looks down and realizes his boner showing through his pants and silently curses himself and heads into the house.
colt seavers x f!reader where colt falls in love with the doctor on set
just all around fluff! may be inaccurate bc i am not a doctor and idk how that stuff actually works on set!
colt, in his usual employed self, is once again on the set of a tom ryder action movie.
this time though, the stakes are a lot higher than the other movies he’s done w the actor bc tom ryder was on an attempt to get his first oscar nomination and win. thus, consequently, pushing stunts and action scenes to never before seen levels.
(think: mission impossible and mad max and the likes)
and who else could perform high risk stunts like what they’re aiming to do ? colt seavers. reckless colt seavers who throws himself into danger and thinks he’s immune from ever really injuring himself in a way that could end his career.
now usually, paramedics on set were enough for most of the movies colt had done stunt work for. though, he’s never really needed much of their help. but they’ve always checked up on him from time to time in his past work to ensure he’s still physically fit to perform what he needs to do
(tho, their assessment has never really stopped him before)
this time, however, the team had decided to hire an onsite doctor as per instruction from the director who wants to prioritize the health and wellbeing of the people working under him. and now more than ever, as there were multiple stuntmen on set for the coming intense and high-packed action scenes that were waiting.
you’d mostly kept to the side, unsure how your medical journey has led you to be a doctor-in-waiting on a movie set. given your background in emergency medicine, you assume maybe that’s why they’d chosen you. besides, versatility in skill is important in movie sets like these because you never really know what injury would be coming. still, you preferred your place in the emergency room instead of standing by on a major film.
though, you’re surprised at how much they did actually need you. not even two weeks into filming, and action scenes were already taking place—sprains, strains, fractures, cuts, burns. you don’t know what else could transpire once the main actor and main stuntman actually started filming their scenes. you hadn’t met them yet, mostly dealing with the scenes of what would be their antagonist later in the film. but ! you’re honestly starting to love the work because it’s such a different environment and the patients were definitely nicer
(which honestly is HUGE additional points)
so, you were hard at work and actually really fucking dedicated. time had passed by so quickly without realizing from monitoring actors and extras and stuntmen and making sure that their health was okay.
you wake up one day, thinking it’s just another normal day of filming when you’re suddenly pulled aside to meet tom ryder, and his infamous stuntman colt seavers.
of course, they had to introduce the doctor that they’d hopefully not need, but would probably be seeing a lot.
and colt ? well, instantly attracted to you. nevermind the fact he’s still too cocky to ever admit he’d need a doctor. but, fuck, he’d fake multiple injuries just to be subjected to you. you’re like the epitome of his type.
he tries to play it cool after your first meeting. really, he does. but the second you walk away, he's already elbowing tom in the ribs.
"who's the doctor?"
"the doctor. what, you need medical attention already?"
"...maybe."
"colt."
"what? i’m asking a completely innocent question."
by lunch, he somehow already knows your name, what hospital you usually work at, your specialty in emergency medicine, and the fact that you apparently take your coffee black (because the lady had complained you drank multiple cups just to get through the day.)
he tells himself it's just harmless curiosity. it really is! he just wants to know about you because you’re a new person (😐there are multiple new people. it’s a new director they’ve never worked with. new camera crew. new almost everyone really). so, to colt, it is harmless curiosity!
to everyone else? they call it exactly what it is.
"you're crushing."
"i am not."
"you ask about her everyday… in fact, you've asked three different people about her just today."
"i’m a naturally curious person, and a doctor would be a good friend to have! i could get treatments for a discount when i’m old and dying.”
good friend my ass ! the moment he sees you, he’s already thinking of different ways to talk to you. he’s lingering near the medical station every chance he gets. he has the audacity to pretend to bump into you when it’s so obvious he’d been waiting just to get a chance to talk and flirt with you.
complete coincidence, obviously. the fact that he’s always exactly where you are ? or lingering close by ? COINCIDENCE.
no one believes him.
unfortunately for colt, however, you're immune to his usual charm. or maybe "immune" isn't the right word—you just don't have time for it.
every time he flashes that crooked grin after walking away from an explosion like it's just another tuesday, you're only asking him if he's dizzy, if he hit his head, and not wow colt you looked so handsome and cool
and he learns very quickly that you cannot be flirted out of doing your job either. he doesn’t know you’re used to it really. patients flirting with you while you’d tended to them. so, he wasn’t any different (though, he was persistent. you’d give him that!)
the first time he intentionally exaggerates an injury just to spend five extra minutes in your medical trailer, you know immediately.
you have clocked him, and he honestly doesn’t even feel embarrassed about it. he’s just surprised you were able to tell immediately (nevermind that you’re a doctor and that’s literally what you were trained to do.)
"your shoulder hurts?"
"real bad."
"okay, i want you to raise your arm."
“i love it when you tell me what to do.”
😐😐😐 “raise your arm.”
and he does. perfectly. he’s not even trying to pretend at this point. he’s forgotten to act like it hurts because you’re looking at him and his fake injury so intensely and so full of worry and care. he wants you to look at him like that on normal days too. not just when he’s faking injuries.
"higher." he does. once again, perfectly. "doesn't hurt?"
"it hurts emotionally?"
"get out."
he leaves smiling anyway because you smiled. just a little. he saw it, he swears he saw it. he’s not delusional or anything. there really was a smile from you!
he makes shit up too sometimes like medical terms that definitely don’t exist
‘that’s not even a real thing”
“you still have to check on me tho … what if it is a real thing? i could be dying!”
he's the most obedient patient you've ever had
if you tell him to sit, he sits. if you tell him to stop talking while you examine a cut, he lasts maybe thirty seconds before asking if you've always had such pretty eyes. you don't even look up or feign surprise anymore because you’re getting used to him recklessly flirting with you.
"one more sentence and i'll make sure this stings."
"...that's… unethical. are you allowed to do that?”
"no one will believe you if you said i did it on purpose.”
so, at first, it’s all just flirting! colt isn't actually emotionally invested. he’s suffered through a heartbreak before! def doesn’t wanna do that again 😂
he just thinks you're gorgeous and likes making you smile. that’s low stakes. he allows himself low stakes. if you reject his flirting, he'll shrug, grin, and try again tomorrow. for the love of the game!
the crew enjoys it too. they eat it all up. it’s like their own reality tv .. their entertainment while working tiring hours. every department has something to say to their stuntman.
"hey colt, think you pulled a muscle? doctor's trailer is that way, but i’m sure you’ve got that path memorized.”
"is that a real injury or just another fake one?”
“guys, why is colt circling around the medical trailer again?”
even tom starts noticing how colt somehow manages to get injured just enough to require medical attention but never enough to actually miss filming.
"that's the third splinter you’re trying to get treated today."
“times are changing. i’m getting older. i need to be in my top condition at all times.”
what actually makes you start paying attention to him isn't the flirting though. even though you do admit it’s pretty entertaining
it's more how he checks on everyone else before he checks on himself when the matters are actually serious.
little injuries from him? yeah perfect opportunity to flirt with the doctor. but when stakes are high and people actually look like they got hurt? he’s already asking if they’re okay. if the pyrotechnics crew got clear in time. if the newer stunt performer landed safely. if the camera crew was ok!
he'll be bleeding and insisting someone else should get treated first. you really have to assert dominance and march over to him yourself just to treat him. so fucking stubborn.
and it’s so infuriating because a fucking splinter and he’s running over at you with a pout and blabbering about the need to get fixed up. but bleeding and actually sustaining an injury? suddenly everyone else is more important than him.
because in his head, these aren’t flirting opportunities anymore. when injuries are a little more serious, stuntman colt takes over!
his priorities are now making sure if everyone else was okay. to not slow down production. to keep going so everyone’s hard work pays off! he doesn’t want anyone worrying about him or adding him to a pile of the burdens there are when making a film. it’s already hard without him being a whiny bitch
"you're next. come here.”
"i'm okay."
"i wasn't asking. come here.”
it's the first glimpse you get beneath the ego. the cockiness isn't because he thinks he's invincible. it's because he's accepted getting hurt as part of the job. and you? well, you absolutely hate that mentality as a doctor.
"if you keep ignoring injuries, one day you won't be able to do the job you love."
"hey! i happen to get treated for my scraped knees. i went to you yesterday.”
"yet you won’t for a laceration?"
“just comes with the job. the crew needs to be priority and in top condition for the movie to turn out well.”
“you’re just as important as the crew. getting hurt doesn’t have to come with the job if you just let people treat you. bc come on, a fucking splinter and you're running over at me with a pout... but you're bleeding through your shirt and suddenly everyone else is more important?”
woah ….. no one's ever really said that to him before.
i mean. he’s been enjoying the attention but only when he’d been in control of it. a fake sore shoulder? perfect. now he can think of ways to make you laugh. actually bleeding? not cute, nope. he’d rather grin through the pain so no one worries about him bc no one has ever really.
no one’s cared for him enough because he has always just been the guy in the background who sustains every hard blow, every hit, so tom ryder can look cool and rack up nominations and votes just in time for the award season.
so you saying that to him? something shifts.
from then on, he starts showing up before you have to drag him into the trailer for serious injuries bc he hates to admit but your words actually got to him and got through his hard shell of a skull.
and somehow, in between dressing wounds and reminding him that painkillers aren't a substitute for rest, the two of you start actually getting to know each other.
at first, it's just small conversations while you clean cuts or rewrap sprained wrists. he'd ask how long you'd been a doctor. you'd ask how someone voluntarily decided getting hit by cars was a career.
"it pays surprisingly well."
"i don't think that's enough to convince me."
"what if i throw in bragging rights? how cool it looks when you watch the movie?”
"hard pass."
eventually, the conversations stretch longer than the treatments. and sometimes, they’re a little more vulnerable
he comes in with a stitched cut on his shoulder, slower than usual, like he actually feels it this time
“you’re quieter today” you say without looking up
“am i?”
he sits on the edge of the medical table, watching you set up supplies
“crew’s talking about the next stunt” he says
“that doesn’t explain your mood”
“you’re very good at that, you know”
“at what”
“not letting people dodge questions”
“it helps in my line of work”
there’s a pause after that, longer than usual. he flexes his fingers like he’s deciding whether to say something or swallow it\“sometimes the job just comes with a lot of insecurity and a whole lot of pretending”
that makes you look at him properly
“it’s just… easier when it’s happening. when you’re in it. you don’t have time to be scared or second-guess anything. you just do it”
“and after?”
“after is when it gets loud”
you finish taping the dressing, hands steady, and assuring him it’s normal, even though it doesn’t feel like it should be but he isn’t any less for thinking that way and he really listens to you
“you ever get that?”
“sometimes”
“what do you do with it”
“i don’t take it home”
“you make it sound like it’s possible for me to be able to do that too”
“because it is”
that gets a small, real smile out of him
ever since then, he lingers in the trailer even longer after you’re done, staying entirely by choice. he’d sit on the examination table swinging his legs while you finish paperwork. and he'd tell you ridiculous stories from old movie sets—about missing a landing because a stray dog wandered into frame, about accidentally punching tom during rehearsal which was the best day of his life
in return, you'd tell him about overnight shifts in the emergency department. the strange cases and the little victories that reminded you why you became a doctor in the first place.
now he knows you, and suddenly, rejection means something. he’s no longer trying to impress "the hot doctor", it isn’t flirting for fun fun anymore. he's now trying not to ruin what the two of you have, trying to see if it can lead to anything
coffee appears on your desk every morning. black coffee. no note to show heyyy it’s me colt! i’m flirting with you because i think you’re attractive! he does it because he actually likes you and he knows you need it.
(he gets up early and goes to set early even if he isn’t need yet just to do this)
when you interrogate him, he swears he doesn't know who keeps leaving it there.
he’s desperately trying to hide the very much Real emotions he has for you now. you’re so cool, you’re a doctor. why would you ever settle for him?
colt has now entered what the crew calls: absolutely fucking in love
and you? you’re actually getting a little invested too
you start watching rehearsals whenever he's doing particularly dangerous stunts. you tell yourself it's purely medical preparedness. everyone else notices you're holding your breath every time he jumps tho.
now you’re growing concerned for him. i mean, you’re concerned for everyone as a doctor. but as yourself? you’re worried about colt more than anyone. u start hating his fuckass thumbs ups!
and the icing on top? colt notices too.
after every successful landing, the first person he looks for isn't the director. it's you.
eventually, after one especially brutal sequence involving fire, broken glass, and being launched through the windshield of a car, you spend nearly an hour cleaning cuts off his arms.
"you scared me today."
the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. colt freezes.
"sorry..."
it's the first genuinely quiet apology you've ever heard from him. after that, something shifts. even more than showing up to ur trailer or letting you treat major injuries. now he wears the protective gear without arguing. lets you check him over without making excuses. remembers to ice his injuries. mostly because every time he doesn't, he gets that disappointed look from you that somehow hurts worse than the injury itself.
when he finally asks you out, it's after filming wraps. because, for the first time in months, he realizes he has no excuse to come see you tomorrow. and he absolutely hates it
the medical trailer is already half packed away. equipment boxed up. the set that had become home for more than a year was slowly disappearing.
and you? you'd be going back to the emergency room where you belonged. he'd be moving onto another movie, another stunt, another set somewhere halfway across the country.
maybe if the studio hires you for the next film! maybe if he convinces production they absolutely need the same doctor because "continuity is important”! maybe anything! he just needs to keep seeing you
he wants to see you and know u outside of making a film. he wants to know what your laugh sounds like when you're not trying to stop him from getting a concussion. he wants to know you more and more and more until he knows everything.
the thought of never seeing you again honestly scares him more than jumping a car over a ring of fire ever could.
so, before you can leave with the rest of the medical team, colt finally decides to do it despite the fear of rejection
"so... hypothetically..."
"that's usually how bad ideas start."
"if i promised not to fake another injury..."
"good start."
"would you maybe let me buy you dinner somewhere that doesn't smell like antiseptic?"
for the first time since meeting you, colt actually looks nervous. no teasing grin. no cocky one-liners. just a man standing there with his hands shoved into his pockets, hoping he hadn't waited too long to finally ask u out
"...only if you promise to arrive without a concussion."
he lets out a laugh that sounds suspiciously like relief
"i can do that."
"pick me up at seven."
“deal.”
colt grins so hard his face hurts. and then he sort of just stands there for a second, staring at you with the goofiest smile you've ever seen on him
"you're looking at me weird."
"i'm just thinking."
"a very dangerous thing for u to be doing"
"i really, really want to kiss you right now."
your breath catches ever so slightly. well you weren’t expecting that!
"but?"
"but i think i should earn that first."
"earn it?"
"yeah. by buying you dinner. opening your car door. proving i can spend one whole evening without having u patch me up.”
you can't help but laugh. ur heart is just soaring rn
"that's a pretty high bar."
"i know."
"think you can manage it?"
“for you? yes. god, i’d do anything for you. sorry, was that too forward?”
he leaves before he can embarrass himself further or change his mind and kiss you anyway. because if waiting one more night means he gets to do it after your first date… colt figures it'll be worth every second.
as he starts walking away, he has to physically stop himself from pumping a fist into the air like he'd just landed the greatest stunt of his career. that would be embarrassing!
but when you’re out of sight? he definitely does it. even does his thumbs up. bc this is the greatest thing he has ever pulled off
⋄ tags: Knight Colt & Princess!Reader, Forbidden Love, Runaway Love, Fluff, Romance, All that Jazz, Cliche Fairy Tale Romance, HEHEHE, Corny Fluff don't @ me
⋄ infos: oneshot, 3.1k
⋄ a/n: this is for @goosegroupiechallenges also thank you to the bestie @ken-dom for encouraging me with her kind words! & @littlerobinette for reading this over. now on to discussing our Stephen plans... <3
𐙚 summary: You’ve loved Colt all your life, but the royal blood in your veins forbids it. Can you change your fate?
A sigh leaves you as for the first time all day, you truly allow yourself to relax in the privacy of your bedchambers. The soft mattress and heavy quilt are a wonderful oasis from the daily stressors and pressure. And as the tedious day is over, you've traded your stiff corset and dress in favor of a white linen shift too.
You love the chance to just be yourself like this–no royal crown weighing heavy on your head.
Especially lately since the palace has been buzzing with preparations for your younger brother’s wedding. He is marrying a princess from another kingdom and everyone is absolutely overjoyed over the news.
There will be a lavish wedding and days long celebration in the royal city. There's high expectations as his sibling that you must perform alongside your family.
Not to mention, all the attention it has now put on you to finally consider the growing line of suitors eager for your hand. A subject that your father brings up frequently and vividly.
Preferably, you would avoid that subject forever or simply choose the man you want to be King alongside you, but such is not the proper tradition. The law says the princess does not get a say. And the law is bullshit. So, for now, you just let your mind quiet and not worry over what you cannot change.
Thank the gods you can finally get some shut eye at least. However, before you can begin to drift off… A sudden tap tap tap against the glass window causes you to freeze.
Your gaze snaps over to the wall at the rough, yet familiar knock. Normally, you would immediately go and grab a guard, but you’ve an inkling it's a certain someone.
A smile graces your lips at the thought of him and you pull yourself up from the bed. You walk over to the large oval window that gives you a view of the vast beautiful kingdom. From this view, you can see the verdant rolling hills to the numerous buildings and homes that signify the thriving area.
The land your father constantly reminds you will someday be yours to rule. Despite your own wishes being far from that.
Quiet as can be, you unlatch the rusted silver lock that keeps it closed and push it. You lean over and peek out into the night to see a most familiar sight. The handsome face of your personal knight, Colt or Sir Seavers as he is known to society, stares up at you.
Colt is hanging below the windowsill, having used the strong vines to scale the cobblestone palace wall. The knight is known for his impressive physical prowess and can pretty much climb anything.
Still, how he manages to get up to your fourth story room tucked away in the huge castle, you shall never know.
“Hello there, princess. Lovely night isn't it?" Colt asks, offering you a cheeky grin. The man appears light and carefree as if he has all the time in the world.
“Colt! Are you really doing this once again?” You hiss. "I thought we agreed you would stop sneaking in this way."
“Couldn't manage any other tonight and I wanted to see you. Besides, I love the challenge-though I must admit these vines are not the most stable." He lets out an uneasy laugh and shifts his weight. "...Might I have permission to come up?”
As if there is any world you would not allow him, but Colt's sensibilities require him to ask anyways. Giving a hurried nod, you back away from the window to give him space.
It is not proper at all for your knight to be in your private quarters like this, but it's hardly the first time Colt has secretly visited you. And if you have your way, it will be far from the last.
It is the only alone time the two of you get.
Nimble as ever, Colt manages to hoist himself up and get his wide frame through your window safely. His worn riding boots touch the stone flooring with a small thump as he lands before standing straight at his full towering height. Colt absentmindedly brushes off his beige tunic and adjusts the black leather belt that sits at his brown trousers.
He is the tallest and broader knight in the squad. Which has helped him reach the high status of captain of the guard. The only one who would even imagine climbing the castle.
A sigh of relief leaves you. You'll never get used to watching him do dangerous stunts like this. Even if it is his sworn duty to protect you and stop whatever harm comes your way.
Satisfied with himself now, Colt addresses you warmly with a bright smile.
“Sorry to intrude, my lady. I know you must be tired after all the chaos of the day. My men and I have been running practice drills in preparation for all the extra company soon to arrive and–”
Before Colt can get another word out, you are throwing yourself into his hearty embrace. He catches you immediately, his arms coming to wrap around your form naturally like as if he was expecting you. A chuckle leaves him as he holds you tight against his firm chest.
You nuzzle into him, feeling safe and loved as your fingers grip his shirt to pull him even closer.
“What a greeting, dare I say you missed me?”
“I did,” you admit without hesitation. "it's been much too frantic lately. I can barely remember the last time you came to see me. It's been far too long and I'm not pleased.”
“I've seen you multiple times today.” Colt murmurs, as he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head and runs a hand down your back.
“That hardly counts when we're forced to pretend we're not lovers. I must address you all stiff and proper.” You say with a pout.
“Yes, but regardless I treasure any minute I get to be in your presence.”
His sincere words cause butterflies to bloom in your stomach and your cheeks to warm. “You do?”
“Of course. You, my dear princess, are a singular beauty and hold my undying affection.”
“Oh Colt… You have mine as well, you are the only man who ever has and will forever.”
“I hope that will always be true.” He says softly, his blue eyes smoldering.
The two of you have confessed your feelings to each other many times over, but you never tire of hearing his heart.
With that, Colt slowly steps backward with you until the two of you are falling into your bed, laughing and smiling. He pulls you on top of him and you make yourself cozy lying across his strong body.
Colt settles in nicely, his dirty-blonde hair locks fall against your plush pillows. His arms stay firmly wrapped around you.
There is genuinely no other time you feel so at peace than when you are with the man you adore so much, and are able to be as affectionate as you like. No hiding your love due to society's rules.
You lazily draw circles on his chest and hum.
"Colt... will you stay the night?"
You know you shouldn't ask, but you've just missed him so lately.
He stiffens for a moment and sighs.
"I can't stay more than an hour or so to avoid any suspicions, my darling. You know that."
You nod once. Of course, you understand and just wish that wasn't so.
Gazing up at him, you allow yourself to bask in the beauty of his features for a moment.
Colt is as ruggedly handsome as ever with his strong jawline and dark brown beard. His dirty-blonde bangs fall across his forehead, stopping just above those cobalt eyes of his. He wears his hair a bit longer these days, but he'll probably cut it soon knowing him.
You once mentioned you like it short and he's never seemed to have forgotten that. Though honestly the man could wear his hair however and still take your breath away.
“I missed you.” You whisper simply, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek
“I missed you too, sweetheart.”
Lips brushing against his, the two of you share a chaste kiss. Colt always tastes of vanilla and sandalwood, so addicting and so utterly him. Your lips meet once more and then again until you're both breathless and smiling like two lovesick fools.
Just a few kisses and your cheeks are already warm. You can't help but remember the last time Colt was here. The two of you have never gone very far, but he did remove his tunic to reveal his toned chest. A sight that left you blushing for days.
Yet, before you can possibly suggest a repeat of that night, Colt averts his eyes from your briefly and his face falls.
“I heard through the castle grapevine that your father is having some of your suitors attend the wedding.”
Ah… Trust the castle gossipers to spread that bit of information like wildfire.
“Unfortunately, that is true. It is against my fervent wishes.” You try to assure him, guilt swirling in your stomach.
Colt appears grim. “I see. I foolishly hoped it was false.”
“If only, but we knew this would happen eventually.”
“We did. It doesn't make it any easier to know men are coming to vie for your hand.”
“I know. I apologize profusely, my love.”
There's a beat of silence as the situation hits you both. It hurts, but you don't regret one moment of your affair with Colt.
But then Colt cuts through the quiet with a question that strikes your heart like lightning.
“Princess, is our love doomed? Are we simply fools delaying fate’s hand?”
You let out a defeated sigh. “Perhaps. I suppose we've always known my royal blood would intervene eventually.”
It's a topic the two of you typically avoid because in your mind it's a dead end. Akin to attempting to stop the tide from coming into shore–inevitable. It pains you deeply, but your father has made it clear that you shall do his bidding and marry another royal.
“I'm a knight and you've the expectations of the land on your shoulders. We're from two different worlds and this kingdom will never allow us to cross that divide.” Colt says solemnly.
“I know.” You answer, heart breaking with every word. “Despite all of that, I've been in love with you since we were mere brats that played through the castle.”
“As have I. There you were, the future queen chasing after me and my twin brother like any other commoner."
You grinned at the childhood memories. You, Colt, and Ryland–who is now a wonderful mage in another kingdom-made quite the trio.
“We have a boundless love and I’ll never feel the way I do about you for some stranger. I don’t care what riches and status he may have.”
“Are you certain?” Colt asks, searching your expression for any doubt.
“Of course. I would marry you if only I could."
You’ve thought about this long and hard. You love Colt and while you do care about the kingdom, you aren’t like your younger siblings. The allure of the throne holds no merit for you in the face of your one true love.
Whatever Colt sees in your face must be enough because he nods and shifts to rise. Wordlessly, you move off him and watch as he stands from the bed. He begins to pace the room, one hand running through his dirty-blonde locks as he mumbles to himself.
It is unlike him as the knight is typically at ease and calm.
“Colt, what are you thinking?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing.
It takes a minute, but he finally stops pacing and turns to look at you resolutely. The expression he wears is deeply serious, the same as before going into battle.
“Princess, I have a proposal, but I warn you we would technically be breaking the law and severely hurting the kingdom.”
You blink in shock.
“What ever are you on about? You are no criminal, you are the shining example of our kingdom. The youngest to ever be promoted to knighthood by my father because of the devotion shown to our land.”
“Yes and all of that matters dearly to me, but it is also part of the reason we can never be together.”
“Well, yes.” You admit.
“So, my plan is… What if we run away?”
Your eyes widen and before you can respond, Colt hurries to continue.
“Please, let me finish just… Imagine it. You and I could leave in the dead of night and tell nobody in the castle of our plan. It's the perfect timing since the city will soon be overloaded with guests. We settle elsewhere and some place in the world where our titles hold no relevance."
You're so shocked all you can do is mumble out. “H-How in the heavens would we?”
Colt comes back to you now and slowly lowers himself to kneel in front of you. He takes both of your hands in his and looks up at you imploringly.
“I’ve been writing to my brother as I often do. I told him of our plight and he assured me that his Queen would welcome us with open arms. We would assume other names and be free to do as we like."
Colt's plan sounds simple and he seems to have thought it out. You're not surprised to hear he involved his brother and that does make you feel better. Yet doubts immediately flood your mind.
“But my father would be furious and my mother would worry so much. They're counting on me to rule over the kingdom one day and I would just abandon all of those expectations? I-I can't.”
Colt closes his eyes once and lets out a deep breath. When he opens his eyes again he wears the same polite smile he always does when he's on watch. It's polite, guarded, and respectful.
He would never push you, never ask you to do something once you've said no clearly.
“I see, I understand, your highness.” He says, his hands releasing yours as he stands back up.
You watch as he walks away from you, his shoulders low as if he's had the wind knocked out of him. It pains you terribly.
“I’m sorry, Colt. Truly I am.”
He doesn't turn back towards you.
“Do not apologize, it was irresponsible of me to even suggest it. I just want you to be happy after all and I needed to present this path as an option."
“You make me happy.” You insist.
“Yes, but I can never stand by your side properly the way a husband could. Our love can only thrive in the secrecy of the dark and soon not even that because of your father's plans."
You stand then, the weight of his words landing as you realize what he means.
“Are you saying we should stop seeing each other like this?”
The idea of ending this even despite knowing how true his words ring leave you cold.
Colt visibly tenses at your question, but answers honestly.
“Princess, I only mean that there are no other options and so perhaps… It is time we stop trying to fight against destiny. Yet, no matter what happens I always love you and devote myself to your cause."
He starts towards the window then and your heart stops at the sight. It's as if your entire romance is flashing through your mind.
Playing with Colt in your youth as best friends, noticing how handsome he was as teenagers, and finally confessing your feelings to him as a young adult. And every time since then that he's stood in your presence to protect you. Along with all the secret moments he's spent alone with you despite all the risk.
Could you really lose it all? What will you really do when it comes time to love another? You’ve already tried to talk to your father about your concerns and he stomped on your wishes.
“Colt, wait!” Your body is moving before you can think and you're rushing forward to him. He turns to face you at the last second and once again catches you in his arms.
“Princess, be careful or your night guard may come in–” Colt says worriedly, his gaze flashing to your bedroom door.
He moves his hands to your shoulders as you look up at him earnestly. All the words in your heart come out in a jumble and you simply can't stop them.
“I’m terrified because as much as I whine and complain about my life, it is all I have ever known. Royalty, being waited on hand and foot, having a protector at my side.” You pause to inhale, but keep going on quickly.
“If I strip myself of my titles then who am I? I do not know and the thought of that scares me but… The idea of never having the chance to love you the way we deserve scares me even more.”
Colt’s eyebrows furrow and he swallows thickly.
“Does that mean…? I-I don't want to make you feel forced. We don't have to do this, we could ponder it further."
You shake your head. “No, I want to go with you. It’s scary, but you will be there every step of the way, right?”
“That will never change. I will stay by your side the same way I have since we were children, since I became your knight. We'll figure it out together.”
“What if you don’t like who I am without a crown? What if you find me tedious and dislike me?" You ask with a serious pout.
He lets out a low laugh as if your words catch him by genuine surprise.
“My darling, I have loved you long before I even fully understood what royalty meant. And this will be a journey for both of us, figuring out who we are outside of princess and knight, but I could never dislike you."
“Well, I have always wanted to live freely–just as myself.” You admit shyly.
The thought of getting to walk around unencumbered, making friends, and being in charge of yourself makes you smile. Those are fantasies you've had forever.
“But we must plan this properly. My father will not rest until he finds me and I must write my mother a note explaining myself.”
“Of course, we won’t leave until you're satisfied every measure has been thought of.”
You feel reassured by his words, but the gravity of the situation is not lost on you.
“We’re really going to try to change fate?”
“Not try, princess. We will.” He promises, his blue eyes ablaze.
With that he captures your lips again in a passionate kiss and the two of you some time to let the world fade away. Soon, you will face difficulty choices and obstacles, but whatever happens will come as it may.
Tonight, you take comfort in knowing that you are wholly in love and determined to fight your knight no matter the cost.
Work Romance 4.0k wc || fluff, smut, two idiots in love || everybody thought the two of you are already dating.. Wait you aren't?
Bottom Ryland Grace Hcs 0.9k wc || pure smut
Stop apologizing 3.5k wc || tooth rotting fluff || After you've been in too many toxic relationships, Grace reminds you that the past is in the past. You're now in his loving arms and he won't ever let you forget that
Frustrated Ryland Grace blurb || smut
They're so beautiful 1.7k wc || tooth rotting fluff || Grace who was forced to join an after work drinking session and getting absolutely hammered, his drunken mind fixated on one thing, just how much he misses the love of his life (that is definitely not next to him)
That's mine (you're mine) || 13.7k wc || Fluff, you and Grace are absolute tsunderes || College life would've been so much easier if your group mate hadn't taken credit for the presentation that you worked your ass off on. And If a random molecular biology student hadn't decided to squat in your favorite study spot.
After office hours | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 || Ryland Grace x Camgirl reader ||When the days become repetitive and the nights become suffocating, Ryland Grace decides to hop online to let out some steam. What starts as a fleeting late night distraction, becomes far more complicated when the person behind the screen feels strangely familiar
Colt Seavers
Rest 0.4k wc || fluff || With the pressure of award season weighing heavily on you, colt helps you rest
Luke Glanton
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Lars Lindstrom
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Driver
Need 1.6k wc || fluff, smut || Driver misses his lover, he wants nothing more than to fuck them once he’s home
warnings: jealousy, past colt grice and reader, dry humping, clit slap (one), tongue fucking, choking, hair pulling, voyeurism, dubious consent, masturbation, cum eating, face sitting, oral sex f! receiving, kind of orgasm denial, handjob, rough sex, unprotected sex.
author's note : small idea I had while writng this fic ☆ can be read as a standalone too, enjoy let me know what you think !
word count : 2,3k
The lamb chop is delicious, perfect cooking, perfect aromat that highlights the meat. You can't wait for Connie to try it. Assembling the plates with mash and vegetables you hum softly to yourself. a song you heard at the bar earlier.
You hear a ruffling from the front door and smile to yourself : your lover is back home. After a moment his footsteps echo on the tiled floor of the kitchen, other than that complete silence. It is not like him to be quiet after a whole day being apart, so you turn around. His body is stiff and his face is blank.
"Connie ?" you call, getting worried by the second. Ushering him to come closer.
"Colt ? On our couch ? " are his first words of the night.
Right, you forgot about that teeny tiny detail. You huff in relief. If it's only this that got him like that, the situation will be cleared before you guys get to dessert.
" Long story short we ran into him at the bar, he was piss drunk with nowhere to go, so I just brought him here" you giggle, grabbing your boyfriend's hand in an attempt to diffuse the situation. He still has the same look on his face, and you furrow your brows.
"He is not your responsibility and doesn't he have any friends ? His ex was the only option really ?"
"His mom is picking him up in the morning, I would have told you about this earlier but he made my phone fall in the toilet when we got back." Sliding your hand from his palm to his shoulder you squeeze it lightly. "Connie come on, You know I'm not doing this to piss you off, He's like an annoying little brother to me "
"That you used to fuck" he deadpan bringing the hand to his mouth, kissing it. "Want me to break his jaw about your phone ? " he asks, smiling against your skin.
"Please don't, it took me thirty minute to get him to sleep" you giggle, pressing your hand deeper against his lips. "Let's eat before it gets cold, yes ?" With a nod Connie places a quick kiss in your neck, hands circling behind you to grab the plates.
Seated under the coffee table you enjoy the meal with your boyfriend talking about your respective days, the soft snores of Colt replacing the usual background TV. Connie would steal glances his way from time to time, angrily chewing the tender meat you cooked for the both of you.
Your boyfriend doesn't have a mean bone in his body. He can be sharp when needed, but overall he is a sweetheart. Seeing him reacting this way to the presence of your ex makes you reconsider whether letting Colt crash here was a good idea or not. You've told Connie about your past relationship with the man dead asleep on the couch, he knows that you were not in love, you don't mind reminding him. Once the plates are licked clean you rest your thighs above his peperring his face in kisses.
"You want your dessert now love ?" You inquire before smooching your mouth on his skin again.
"Yeah I'll take my dessert now" he answers leaning into your touch. Before you can even start to get up, you end up pinned underneath him, belly flat on the carpet. A gasp escapes your lips, heart beating pounding against your ribcage.
"Connie ?" you call in a meek voice. His large hands are fondling your hips while you feel his crotch rubbing against your ass. "Connie this is not happening" you tone, trying to sound stern but lift your hips slightly, trying to get more friction.
"It isn't ? But that's your favorite position baby hm ? Don't you like to feel all my weight on you like that ?" he asks, supporting his claim by caging you under his torso. knees on each side of your body as he grinds his hips even closer to your ass. He's so heavy, it feels so good. You inhale through your mouth trying not to moan.
"Not here, not now Connie please, Colt is right there" you plead caressing his hand in an attempt to make him see reason. His mouth is on your neck now, licking and biting at your skin.
"I know muñequita, I know, you just have to be real quiet hm ? I know it's hard to keep it down when I'm inside of you, but I trust you, you're a good girl you can do it" he murmurs oh so seductively, and a heartbeat goes straight to your pussy. You want to prove him right, you want to be good for him.
You glance at Colt sleeping form, he's wrapped tight under the blanket you gave him, breathing steadily. You bite your lips, with the way he was drunk he shouldn't wake up even through a hurricane. Adrenaline coursing through your veins, you turn to Connie, sliding your joggers down the best you can.
"You have to be quiet too bebe I know how you get carried away" you bite your lips, seeing his eyes sharpen at your approval. Standing on his knees, Connie backs your hips onto his, the impact makes you moan and you hand fly to your mouth to cover it up, too late, your depravity echoes in the room. Your boyfriend mocks you, taping your ass.
"Already forgot the rules, cariño ?" his cheeky voice inquired. biting your cheek you grab his shirt hard, yanking him toward you.
"Fuck you Connie" you murmur before smacking your lips into his. You bite his lower lips just the way he likes while slowly moving your hips against his crotch in slow motion. His still clothed member is twitching between your cheeks. A stifle groan dies in his throat and you smile. If he wants to break your composure you will too. Grabbing your throat, Connie pulls away from you.
"If you insist" he smiles, pulling your panties down to your knees. "Look at you" he croons, patting your already soaked pussy. "Who made this me or him ?" You don't answer, resuming your grinding against his hand this time when a sharp spank comes to your clit. You jolt forward whining under your breath. "It's you Connie" you finally admit pouting when you look his way.
"Good, let me kiss it better" true to his words you feel his tongue on your clitoris, moving up and down in slow tortuous motion. Letting it enter your hole Connie swallows your juice in loud slurping noises that echoes between the walls, you pray Colt is having a nice dream far away from this living room.
Resuming his previous position Connie enters your cunt in one fell swoop. You bite on your lips hard but the faintest grunt still manages to escape you. This ought to be more of a challenge than you thought, gripping the fluffy rug tight in your fist, you prepare yourself to be as quiet as possible.
Connie is determined to ruin your plan, showing no mercy in the way he thrusts inside of you, fast and hard. He knows your weak spots, he knows exactly how to angle his cock for you to scream, but you're resilient, you're not going to make a sound, Colt is not going to wake up, he'll never know a thing about this. Your eyes and your lips are closed shut, faint mewls escaping you from time to time when he would give a particularly hard thrust.
"Do you love me baby ?" Connie raps into your ear, his chest is only centimeters apart from your back, you feel the heat radiating out of it. You nod, but he doesn't seem to satisfy him. "Don't deprive me from y-your voice only he is not allowed to hear"
You are torn between guilt and pleasure but it makes the whole act even more delicious. you swallow hard before opening your mouth "I love you Connie, I do" you murmur admiring his face now that he is closer to you.
"Say it again" he murmured, approaching his lips slightly. You're about to open your mouth again when he pistons in you so fast that a stream of salacious moans fly out in the open. Your brow furrows as he keeps pounding mercilessly against your spongy spot.
"Connie what the fuuuck" you sound depraved, sentence rhythmed by the tempo of his harsh thrust.
"Shhh-shhh, we have a guest don't forget" he reminds you in a false sympathetic tone. The way he's grunting like you two are alone tells you everything you need to know. Connie angles your face so you have Colt in your field of vision. He shifts under the blanket, face scrunching and relaxing again. You bite your lips. Would it be so bad if he woke up right now ? You kind of want to see how it would react. Your body retorts immediately, pussy clamping down on Connie's dick.
"Admit it, you want him to see" he starts, pulling your hair so your bust is off the rug. "How he could never make you feel this g-good" All your resolutions crumble he's right, this is what you want.
"Want him to k-know he can never have me again" you cry out under the snap of his hips.
"Yeah ? keep moaning like that and I'll make sure he knows it" you nod, letting yourself be vocal about how much you enjoy your predicament.
Connie's grip on your hair tightens the tension on your scalp making your eyes roll in the back of your head, in a breathy moan while his lips attack your exposed neck, leaving all sorts of marks in his wake.
"Y/n ?" you hear from a distance, this is not Connie's voice. You bite your lips, eyes still closed. "Fuck I tought I was hallucinating these noises" Opening your eyes you see that he has sat up a bit, his shoulders pressed in the armrest, his light hazel eyes are fixatetd on you and a dopey grin is plastered on his face.
"Are you uuh are you still drunk ?" Connie is pounding forcefully inside of you, straining your miserably short sentence.
"Yeah a bit" his body moves under the cover and he opens his mouth again "Can I touch myself ?" he asks eyes jumping from you to Connie's form
"What do you think ?" your boyfriend asks, pulling your hair ever harder. You nod the best you can, saliva pulling to your mouth. Even in your sickest fantasy you never thought that you would end up in this situation but you're glad you did.
Uncovering his legs Colt grip the tent formed in his boxers with a flat hand he caresses his growing erection through the thin material of his underwear.
"Take it off" you murmur, eyes fixated on his crotch, he obeyed in the blink of an eye, he always did.
"You're so pretty y/n" Colt gasps when he starts stroking his length, using spit as a lube.
"I am ?" you ask, the warmth in your lower belly becoming unbearable by the second.
"You are" Connie rasps, biting the shell of your ear, never breaking his eye contact with Colt, his lips melt on yours, you close your eyes in delight but you know, you know that they are still staring at each other.
Your boyfriend being possessive makes you go crazy, he's always physical with you, holding your hands, your wrist, your waist, playing with your hair. But you would never suspect that he could get so territorial, you don't give him any reasons too but if it ends up sex sessions like that you might start to misbehave more often.
"I'm about to cum" you pant against your lover's lips. They grunt in unisson, both cursing under their breath. You chant Connie's name over and over again, begging him to bring you over the edge, your vision gets cloudy and you finally get what you asked for, legs giving out under the pressure of your orgasm.
"Such a good muñequita" you hear the praises as his body grows heavier on top of yours. He's close, you can tell. Glancing at your guest, you remark that he will cum soon too, angrily fisting his cock, lips caught between his teeth.
Fuck. It is kind of hot seeing him like that one last time.
Using your tits as an anchor to rut into your cunt, Connie shoots his seeds deep inside of you. As his head nuzzles into the sticky skin of your back. After a moment Connie leaves a trail of kisses down your spin before pulling out. His semen leaks out of your hole as he places you on all four again, you whine having no strength left in your body.
"I'm giving you one last chance to eat her pussy, but you'll have to taste me too" Connie offers, your eyes snap to Colt, his breath is heavy, hand still tightly wrap around his cock but he hasn't cum yet, no trace on his hand on his shirt or the blanket. He's he still an edging enjoyer, or was the show not good enough for him ?
"I don't mind" he states, rushing to the ground, placing his face underneath your tainted pussy, his tongue scoop Connie's cum out of your hole and he greedily swallows. Straightening your back to properly sit on his face, you let your head rest on Connie's shoulder.
"Is he doing a good job ?" Connie asks, caressing your hair while Colt switches his attention to your clit. You nod, feeling your eyelids grow heavier, under the haze of pleasure. "Better than me ?" You shake your head left to right and a small giggle escapes your lips. "Poor thing" Connie coos as he wraps his palm around Colt's throbbing cock. "We'll reward him for his effort though" Connie states as the said boy whines under his ministrations.
You never thought bringing your ex home would result in a night like this, but you are not disappointed
Pairing(s): Domino Squad x F! Jedi Reader (Platonic) // Commander Colt x F! Jedi Reader (Romantic)
Summary: As Jedi Master Shaak Ti's Padawan, you find yourself being a trainer on Kamino. Early in the war, you develop a relationship with Commander Colt. Meanwhile, when you realize the Domino Squad is on the verge of failure, a late night lesson on teamwork ends up becoming exactly what they need to persevere.
Word Count: 11.4k ʸᶦᵏᵉˢ
Warnings: none!
A/N: I should never be allowed to write a fic based on an episode ever again - I got a little carried away here. (Although it does diverge from canon slightly, don't hate me). This is not beta read, we die like Fives.
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The overhead viewing platform of the Tipoca City military complex always had a strange, cold breeze despite it being inside. You stood at the edge of the platform, your hands resting lightly on the safety railing as you looked down into the massive open floor of the Citadel challenge. Beside you stood your Jedi Master, Shaak Ti. Her relaxed presence seemed to counter the aggressive energy radiating from the bounty hunter trainers, El-Les and Bric, also standing on the platform with you.
Down on the simulated battlefield, Bravo Squad was putting on a show.
They moved in perfect harmony. As a trio of training droids popped up from behind a barricade, the lead cadet slid flawlessly into cover, laying down a perfectly timed charge. Simultaneously, his squadmates flanked the perimeter, clearing the high ground with textbook precision. There was no hesitation. No crossed signals. Every movement had a purpose with sharp efficiency.
"Flawless rotation," El-Les murmured, his eyes tracking the cadets with genuine pride, "Their spacing is immaculate. They don't just mimic the drills, they understand them."
"Hmph. They're doing what they were bred to do," Bric grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes were squinted, scanning the field for a mistake that simply wasn’t there to find. "Don't throw them a parade just yet."
"Credit where it is due, Bric," Shaak Ti retorted. She turned her head slightly, her warm eyes focusing entirely on you. A small, proud smile spread across her face. "You have done exceptional work mentoring Bravo Squad, my Padawan. They adapted your teachings so fluidly. It is no exaggeration to say they are among the highest performing cadets Kamino has ever produced. You should be deeply proud of yourself."
A surge of pride bloomed in your chest, warming you against the chill of the observation deck. You offered your Master a respectful bow of your head. "Thank you, Master. They've put in the hours. I merely gave them direction."
Below, the final training droid clattered to the floor, its systems shutting down as a bright green light flashed across the top of the Citadel tower. Bravo Squad had completed the course. Not only had they passed, but the digital readout on the main terminal confirmed they had done so with a record breaking time.
From above, you watched the cadets lower their weapons. Before they turned to clear the floor, a few of the boys glanced up toward the overhead platform. You were high up enough that you knew they couldn't actually make you out from the others.
Still, you couldn't resist. Catching the eye of the squad leader, you raised a hand and gave them a swift, playful mock salute.
El-Les tapped a sequence into his datapad, resetting the simulation. "An exemplary run. Truly. Which squad is next?"
"The Domino Squad," Shaak Ti answered.
The name hit the air, and you instantly inhaled a deep breath. Your posture stiffened.
"Oh, brilliant. The defectives," Bric groaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "I’ve been complaining about this group since the day they dragged their asses into the final stage of training. They’re sloppy, they’re deaf to orders, and they have absolutely no sense of discipline. Mark my words, they are a lost cause. It’s offensive that they are even wearing training armor.”
You kept your face entirely expressionless, hiding the of annoyance Bric always managed to ignite in you. Instead of engaging with him, you drew your datapad from your belt. Your thumb immediately swiped away from the training rosters and tapped into the Tipoca City arrivals log.
You stared at the blinking cursor on the screen. The transport was late.
According to the scheduled rotation, the ARC Troopers tasked with overseeing and evaluating the Citadel challenge were supposed to have touched down on the southern landing platforms over an hour ago. And that meant he was late.
Commander Colt.
Just looking at his designation number on the manifest sent a rush through your veins, pulling your mind entirely away from the training course and dropping you into the comfort of your memories.
At the very beginning of the war, when the Senate had first deployed you and Master Shaak Ti to Kamino to oversee the production and training of the Grand Army, Colt had been part of the very first batch of troopers assigned to your care. You had been younger then, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the war and the daunting task of shaping lives meant for the front lines. Throughout all of it, Colt had been your rock.
Initially, your bond had been strictly professional. It was built on mutual respect and long hours of training. But Kamino was an isolating place, wrapped in endless storms and sterile white walls. Slowly, the boundaries had begun to blur. Late night gym sessions in the dark and empty training rooms turned into quiet conversations that lingered far past the end of day’s schedule.
Eventually, those nights stopped ending in the training center. They ended behind the locked doors of your quarters, the two of you curled up together on your small couch, finding a desperate, quiet solace in each other's arms.
You knew the risks. If your Master ever discovered that her Padawan was harboring a secret, deeply intimate relationship with a clone, she would be utterly livid. The Jedi Code left no room for the kind of affection you felt for Colt. But in a galaxy rapidly tearing itself apart, it was a small, beautiful luxury you refused to deny yourself.
When Colt was finally shipped out to the front lines, it had been one of the most agonizing, bittersweet days of your life. You had watched his transport disappear into the gray Kaminoan rain, wondering if the war would steal him before you ever got to hold him again.
Fortunately, the Force - or perhaps a bit of selfish luck - had intervened. Not long after his deployment, your master asked you for recommendations on which veteran ARC Troopers should be brought back to Kamino to evaluate the final cadet trials. You hadn't hesitated. You had selfishly put Colt’s name at the very top of the list, praising his mindset and success on the battlefield. Master Ti agreed without a second thought.
Because of that, you got him back. About once every few standard weeks, his duties brought him back to Tipoca City. And for one night, the war vanished. For both of you, those hours together were everything.
"Padawan?"
The voice was soft, but it shattered through your daydream like a detonation.
You blinked, the glow of your datapad snapping back into focus. You realized that you were staring blankly at the arrivals log for far too long.
"Padawan," Shaak Ti repeated, her voice laced with a gentle, questioning amusement. You looked up to find her studying you, her head tilted slightly. "That must be the third or fourth time I have called your name. What is it that has you so distracted?"
"I- my apologies, Master," you stammered quickly, your thumb flying across the screen to switch the display back to the active training roster before she could catch a glimpse of the arrival logs. You cleared your throat, offering an apologetic smile. "I was just reviewing the upcoming weather forecast for tomorrow. I lost my train of thought."
Shaak Ti hummed, before turning her attention back to the simulator.
"Keep your focus here," she instructed gently, nodding toward the training floor. "The exercise is about to begin."
Down below, the heavy blast doors slid open, and the five members of Domino Squad walked out onto the floor.
Down on the floor, Domino Squad looked fractured before the simulation even kicked into gear. They didn’t stand in a unified, tight perimeter like Bravo Squad. Instead, they practically vibrated with energy. Even from a distance, their body language screamed frustration.
"Look at them," Bric muttered, his teeth visibly grinding. "They're already falling apart, and the droids haven't even started firing yet."
The crimson warning lights flashed across the arena, signaling the start of the exercise. Immediately, a wave of automated training droids came to life.
What followed was a total catastrophe.
The squad dispersed as soon as blaster fire broke out. One trooper broke away from the designated defensive line without warning, abandoning his position to make a reckless, solitary dash toward a group of droids. This left a blind spot on the left flank, which another trooper immediately tried to compensate for by shouting repeated orders into his comm, his posture rigid as he tried to figure out what textbook regulation he could use now.
Meanwhile, a different trooper completely bypassed his squadmates, charging directly down the center of the battlefield with his heavy repeating blaster roaring. He didn't check his perimeter, nor did he look back to see if anyone was covering his rear. He simply tried to push through the entire droid battalion by sheer force of will, treating the other men like obstacles rather than a team. This left a trooper scrambling in the wake of the other’s aggressive advance, desperately trying to close the massive gap left in the center line. Meanwhile the last trooper was forced into a frantic retreat just to keep from being pinned down. They were all exceptionally skilled individual combatants. You could see the raw talent in the way one trooper ducked a high blast, or how another precisely picked off a target while on the move. But they were completely blind to one another. This wasn’t a group effort. This was five distinct wars being fought in the exact same room.
It was painful to watch.
Then, the inevitable happened.
A blue stun bolt caught a trooper squarely in the center of his chest. The energy slammed into him, his limbs losing their strength instantly as the electrical current surged through him. He collapsed hard against the floor, his blaster clattering at his side.
On the platform, Bric let out a sharp, mocking bark of laughter. "Ha! Look at that. Can you believe these guys? Lives up to his name, doesn't he? That’s the one they call Droidbait. He’s out there doing exactly what he does best."
You didn't break your attention from the men below, keeping your expression as still and unreadable as dry stone. A hot spark of anger flared in your chest at Bric’s cruel humor. These boys weren't just toys, and they certainly weren't punchlines. They were living, breathing soldiers under your care, and treating their failures like a comedy routine was exactly why they were struggling to find their footing.
Down below, the dominoes fully began to fall. With Droidbait down, the remaining four cadets completely lost their rhythm. One was surrounded and overwhelmed by a concentrated crossfire. Another was clipped while trying to drag his brother back into cover. Two other two were picked off seconds later, their bodies hitting the floor in a messy, uncoordinated pile.
Before the training droids could even reset, Master Ti raised her hand, tapping the override on the console. The harsh red alarms stopped, replaced by the sterile hum of the quiet room.
"That is enough," she sighed softly, a rare hint of disappointment in her voice. She activated the facility's localized intercom. "99, please send a unit to clear the droids from the training ground."
While Bric continued to mutter strings of curses under his breath and El-Les quietly began logging the abysmal failure into the database, you subtly slipped your datapad out one more time. You glanced at the arrivals log.
Still nothing. The transport carrying Colt was officially severely delayed, likely held up by a hyperspace delay or the raging storm outside.
If Colt wasn’t going to be here for hours, your evening was completely wide open. You didn't have to sit in your quarters waiting for a knock that wasn't coming anytime soon. Instead, you looked down at the battered, defeated boys of Domino Squad as they slowly pushed themselves up from the floor, entirely ignored by their lead trainer - Bric.
You had the time. And right now, they desperately needed someone who actually saw them.
"Master," you chimed in quietly, stepping away from the observation deck as your master began to exit.
You fell into step beside her as you walked out into the blindingly white corridors of Tipoca City. El-Les and Bric had split off toward the armory, leaving just you and your Master to walk the quiet hallways alone.
"Yes, my Padawan?" she asked, her long, elegant robes brushing against the floor as she kept a slow pace.
"I would like to make an unusual request," you began, choosing your next words carefully. "I want your permission to run a personal training session with Domino Squad. Tonight. Before their final test tomorrow."
Master Ti paused her walk, turning to face you fully. Her hands tucked neatly into her wide sleeves as she looked down at you gently, "That’s a highly irregular proposition, especially so close to their official evaluation. I suspect I know your reasons, but I would like to hear them from you."
You took a deep breath. "Bric's training method is abrasive, Master. It’s built entirely on an individual, survival of the fittest mindset. That works for some clones, but I don’t think that’s best for the Domino Squad. They are constantly fighting each other because they've been taught that survival is an individual burden. They need a completely different approach. A unified one, perhaps. The exact same methods that allowed Bravo Squad to thrive."
Your master hummed, "And you believe a single evening can undo weeks of abrasive conditioning?"
"I believe they deserve the chance to try," you replied earnestly. "I worry about Bric’s influence on them. If they go into that Citadel tomorrow with the mindset they have right now, they will fail. And we both know what happens to squads that fail to pass the final trial. Those men deserve better."
Master Ti's expression softened as she placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "I understand your concerns, and I give you credit for looking out for them. They are under Bric’s direct instruction, but ultimately, I am the Master in charge of this facility, and you are the Padawan assigned to assist. You are allowed to step in and take command of a situation if you deem it truly necessary."
She paused, her eyes meeting yours with clarity. "Tell me, Padawan. Do you believe it is necessary?"
You took a breath, "Yes, Master. I do."
Master Ti smiled, giving you an approving nod, “Then that is your answer.”
As you began making your way to the clone barracks, you stopped suddenly in your tracks. When a Jedi walked into a room full of soldiers, the air filled with the sharp, synchronized snap of boots hitting the floor as the men flung themselves into rigid attention. You didn't want that tonight - besides, it always felt strange to you. If you walked into Domino Squad's bay as an authoritative figure, especially with how Bric has been treating them, the walls of willpower would go up instantly.
Instead, you slipped down a different hall, towards a service lift and took the rear maintenance entrance. Once in the barracks, you quietly made your way towards the boys you were looking for. You paused just shy of the Domino Squad’s barracks bay, pressing your back against the wall. You closed your eyes, letting your senses take in their stress, but mostly, you just listened.
"So I says to her," Cutup’s voice echoed out of the bay, laced with characteristic charm, "'Baby, you and me could really-'"
"You've never even met a girl," Fives’ voice cut in flatly, his tone dripping with exhaustion and dry amusement.
A heavy, echoing clang shattered the conversation as a trooper slammed his training helmet onto the polished floor in a violent burst of pent up rage. You tightened your jaw, your hand hovering over your lightsaber. You considered stepping in right then, but the shuffling, dragging steps made their way over to the chaos. It was 99.
"You know, you shouldn't worry, because most clones pass," 99 offered, his voice quiet, carrying a gentle kindness that always made your heart ache.
"Yeah, but not all of us. Right, shortie?" the clone snapped back.
"Guys, we've got to follow orders. Come on," the one they called Echo chimed in like he’s said the line hundreds of times.
"I don't know. I think it went rather well," Cutup joked weakly, trying to inject humor into a room that was rapidly drowning under their own failure.
"Quit joking around!" Fives barked.
"Can we please stop arguing?" Droidbait pleaded.
"Can you stop being droid bait out there?" the clone that threw his helmet turned his frustrations directly onto his squadmate, his voice rising. "You're getting in my way!"
"Actually, our way," Fives added, backing his brother up with a sharp edge.
"Well, if you want to be the best, then you got to think like it," the clone retorted, "And I'm thinking like an ARC Trooper."
"Cut it out!" Bric's booming, raspy voice sliced through the barracks. You froze against the wall, instinctually closing your eyes.
"If you two would focus on fighting droids as much as you do fighting each other, you might stand a chance out there," Bric growled, approaching the center of the bay.
"Well," Heavy challenged, "I'd rather be taught by a Jedi than some mercenary bounty hunter."
A tense silence stretched over the room. You could practically feel Bric's temper flaring through the Force.
"Jedi don't have the time to train grunts like you," Bric complained in a mocking sneer that made your blood boil. "That's why they hired me. Listen, boys, when you were assigned to me, I had high hopes for you. Now we're approaching the end of your training, and you haven't advanced nearly enough. Even this bad batcher, 99, has more sense than you guys do, and he's a maintenance clone."
"You don't give them enough credit," 99 whispered defensively, his voice cracking slightly.
"You're all a waste of my time," Bric spat.
He turned on his heel, marching rapidly toward the main exit. You subtly pulled yourself deeper into the shadow of the maintenance alcove, watching him storm past, completely oblivious to your presence.
Inside the bay, the cadets of Domino Squad stood frozen, completely demoralized. This was your moment.
As soon as Bric's footsteps faded completely from the corridor, the men broke formation, their shoulders slumping. You stepped out from the darkness of the maintenance entrance, slipping into the bright light of the bay, and calmly sat down on a utility bench positioned directly between their rows of lockers.
The sudden movement caught Fives' eye first. He gasped, his eyes widening as he stumbled back half a step. Within a second, all five cadets froze, staring at you in absolute, wide eyed shock.
"Well, for starters," you said smoothly, crossing one leg over the other and resting your hands on your knee, pointing between Cutup and Fives, "now you've all officially met a girl. So there's absolutely no need to banter about that anymore."
Cutup’s jaw dropped slightly, but a slow, irrepressible smirk spread across his face as he darted a sideways glance at Fives, elbowing him sharply in the ribs. Fives just stared at you, his ears turning a distinct shade of red.
"And also," you continued, making eye contact with each of them, "Bric did just lie to you. Jedi absolutely have the time to train. Just none were assigned to your specific squad. It’s nice to meet you, boys. I'm the trainer for Bravo Squad."
You stood up and extended a hand toward the first cadet line. But none of them moved. Their gazes were completely locked onto the gleaming silver hilt of the lightsaber clipped securely to your belt.
"You're a Jedi," Droidbait stammered, his eyes darting from the weapon to your face.
You let your face fall entirely flat, "No, I just carry this around for fun."
The cadet blinked, completely missing the sarcasm, his expression remaining entirely confused. Behind him, Echo let out a sharp groan, reaching forward to smack him on the back of his head. "Idiot," Echo muttered under his breath.
You exhaled, shaking your head. "Alright, let's assume your name isn't actually 'Idiot'. What do your boys call each other?"
The first cadet straightened up, clearing his throat. "CT-"
"No," you cut him off firmly, "Not your numbers. Your names."
The cadet stuttered for a fraction of a second, “Hevy”
"Droidbait," the second one said, offering a stiff, nervous salute.
"Echo," the third announced, his posture perfectly rigid.
"Cutup, sir," the fourth said, giving you a quick, roguish wink.
"And Fives," the last one finished, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intense, curious scrutiny.
You huffed a quiet laugh, nodding. "Fives, well, that's going to be incredibly easy to remember."
"With all due respect, sir," Cutup chimed in, "why exactly are you here?"
"Because I want to help you," you nodded, pacing slowly in front of them. "My Master has granted me permission to give you one training session tonight, before your final evaluation tomorrow."
Hevy grunted bitterly, crossing his thick arms. "So they wait until the absolute day before our final test to give us a Jedi. Typical."
Echo shot him an absolute look of horror, his eyes screaming dude, what the hell, that's a Jedi you're talking to, but you didn't let it phase you. You walked right over to Hevy, stopping directly in his personal space.
"This wasn't a standard deployment, soldier," you told him, ensuring the rest of the squad could hear you, "This was my own personal request. I watched your trial run from the observation deck today. I know Bric can be a little rough. And I think you boys just need a completely different approach to the problem."
You didn't give them a single second to debate or question you. You turned, heading back toward the rear door. "Follow me."
The boys who weren't fully suited up immediately reached into their lockers, grabbing for their training armor.
"Actually," you called out over your shoulder, pausing at the doorway, "you won't be needing your gear for this." You pointed directly at Hevy and Echo who were still wearing their armor. "You two, strip out of your armor and get into your standard sweat set. I'll meet you all right outside the corridor."
You stepped out into the hallway, letting the barracks door hiss shut behind you.
Inside the bay, Hevy let out a low, irritated grunt, tossing a piece of his gear into his locker. "How is going completely gearless supposed to help us with the simulations? It doesn't make any sense."
"Just keep an open mind, Hevy," Echo muttered, quickly peeling off his own regulatory straps. "She's the trainer for Bravo Squad. Look at how they ran the course today."
Hevy rolled his eyes, adjusting his shirt, "Yeah, well, Bravo isn't us." He slapped the locker door shut and followed his brothers out into the hall.
Once the five cadets filed out into the corridor, you turned and began navigating the halls of Tipoca City. The boys marched behind you in a disorganized clump, their steps clicking softly against the pristine white floors.
They expected to be led to one of the secondary simulation chambers or perhaps a briefing room. Instead, you bypassed the entire training wing entirely, guiding them deeper into the quiet, residential sectors of the complex.
"Sir?" Droidbait asked, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet hallway as you bypassed yet another reinforced blast door leading to the combat ranges, "Where exactly are we going? We passed the simulation rooms three corridors ago."
"We're going to your training," you answered smoothly, emphasizing the word ‘your’ without looking back.
Behind you, Fives and Hevy exchanged a deeply skeptical look. You kept walking until you reached the quarters wing. It was a restricted zone where the Jedi, Kaminoan officials, and specialized bounty hunter trainers were offered small, apartment style residences.
Stopping in front of a sleek, unadorned door, you reached out and keyed your personal entry code into the wall panel. The door hissed open, revealing the warm, subtly lit interior of your private living space. You stepped inside and swept your arm outward in an open invitation. "Welcome. Come on in."
They hesitated at the threshold, freezing like uniform statues. Clones, especially cadets, were strictly forbidden from entering the private quarters of their superiors, let alone a Jedi's personal sanctuary. Cutup was the first to find his voice, peering nervously at your home.
"Sir," Cutup muttered, "Apologizes if I sound rude, but why exactly are we in your personal quarters?"
"Because what we need is here," you brushed it off casually, gesturing toward the large cushioned couch that dominated the center of the main room. "Take a seat. All of you."
They scrambled to comply, though their movements were awkward as five identical, broad shouldered men squeezed themselves onto the sofa, sitting shoulder to shoulder with textbook posture. They looked terrified to even lean back against the cushions.
You turned your back to them, stepping over to a sleek storage drawer near your desk. Reaching inside, you pulled out a single object. It was a simple, lightweight, half meter long rounded wooden stick. It was perfectly smooth and completely ordinary. And seemingly completely out of place.
Turning back around, you faced the couch. The boys stared at the stick as if it were an active thermal detonator. You walked over, sitting on the edge of the low table directly across from them. Without a word, you extended the index finger of your right hand, carefully placing the exact center of the wooden stick upon it.
You let go. The stick remained perfectly balanced, hovering horizontally in the air, supported only by the tip of your finger.
You locked eyes with Hevy. Giving him a firm, authoritative nod, you said, "Come here, soldier."
Hevy let out a subtle, silent sigh, rolling his shoulders. He gave his brothers a quick, 'what is this absolute garbage?' look before placing his hands on his knees and rising from the couch. He stepped forward, standing at your side.
"Watch closely," you instructed.
Still balancing the stick on your single index finger, you began to bend your knees. Slowly, you lowered your body toward the floor. Your eyes never left the wood, tracking its subtle shifts, adjusting your posture by slightly to compensate for the slightest off balancing force. You went down, until your knuckles literally brushed the floorplates. The stick never tilted. It never wobbled.
With the same fluid grace, you slowly rose back up, returning to your original standing position. With a quick flick of your wrist, you popped the stick into the air, caught it cleanly in your palm, and thrust it directly into Hevy’s chest.
"Your turn," you commanded.
Hevy caught it automatically, frowning down at the wood. "Sir? What does a piece of wood have to do with-"
"You boys asked for a Jedi to help with your training," you cut him off, "That is exactly what I am doing. Balance the stick, lower it to the floor, and bring it back up. Go."
Hevy grumbled under his breath, but he extended his index finger and placed the stick upon it. His hand was a rock. He balanced it perfectly, dropped his weight fluidly until his knuckles hit the floor, and rose right back up without a single tremor.
When he finished, he caught the stick and held it obnoxiously in front of your face, a smug, arrogant grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "What, am I an ARC Trooper now or something?"
You closed your eyes, slowly shaking your head at his stubbornness. "Sit down, cadet." Hevy’s grin faded slightly, and he trudged back to the couch, slumping into his seat. You pointed a finger at the next clone. "Droidbait, you're up."
Droidbait stepped forward, nervous but determined. Just like Hevy, his execution was flawless. He lowered the stick, raised it, and passed it along. You went straight down the line. Echo executed the task with precision. Cutup did it with a bit of dramatic flair, catching it with a theatrical spin before handing it over. Every single one of them passed the individual test easily. It felt like a joke to them.
Finally, Fives completed the exercise. He rose from his crouch, the stick perfectly level on his finger, a confident smirk on his face. As he caught the wood and turned to hand it back to you so he could resume his seat, you stepped forward.
You caught his shoulder, your grip firm. "I never told you to sit down, Fives."
He paused, his hand still gripping one end of the stick, his eyes locking onto yours with a sudden spark of curiosity.
"Hold out your finger again," you instructed softly.
Fives complied, extending his index finger like he had done for the solo exercise. But this time, you didn't let him find the center of gravity. Instead, you grabbed the stick and placed one end of it brutally off center onto his finger. Then, you placed your own index finger under the opposite, longer end.
"We are going to lower and raise the stick together," you told him, "No talking. Just move."
Fives raised an eyebrow, letting out a breathy, "Alright."
You both began to bend your knees, attempting to lower your hands in tandem. Immediately, Fives’ expression changed. His brow furrowed. "Weird," he muttered, breaking the silence. "It feels heavier."
You let out a half laugh, your eyes tracking the wood. "Strange, isn't it? And look at it."
Despite being supported at two points instead of one, the stick was wildly off balance. Fives tried to overcompensate by jerking his hand upward, but the sudden movement completely destroyed the equilibrium.
Fives dropped his finger fast, and the stick clattered loudly against the floor.
He stared down at the fallen piece of wood, a look of genuine shock and frustration flashing across his face. He looked up at you, expecting a scolding. Instead, you were just smiling.
You leaned down, picked up the stick, and turned to face the couch. "Everyone stand up," you ordered. "All five of you. Put one finger under this stick. You are going to lower it to the floor and raise it back up. Together."
The boys groaned, grumbling complaints under their breaths as they crowded around the small table. They stood in a cramped line, each extending a single index finger until the wooden stick was resting across all five of their hands.
"Begin," you instructed, stepping back, crossing your arms to observe.
It was an absolute disaster.
The moment they tried to lower it, Hevy dropped his hand too fast. "Whoa, watch it!" Echo snapped, thrusting his hand upward to catch it, which sent the opposite end flying off Fives' finger. The stick clattered to the floor within three seconds.
"Again," you ordered.
They set it up again. "Alright, let's do a countdown," Cutup suggested. "Three, two, one, go!"
On "go," Droidbait dropped his hand, but Echo didn't move until a fraction of a second later, arguing that they were supposed to move on one, not after one. The stick flipped into the air and hit the floor again.
"Again," you repeated.
What felt like forever passed. The initial amusement the Domino Squad felt had completely evaporated, replaced by grinding frustration. They tried counting down in different cadences. They tried going as slow as humanly possible. But every single time, someone would feel the stick slipping, jerk their hand up out of panic, and ruin the alignment for everyone else.
"Stop lifting your side, Hevy!" Fives yelled, "You're pushing it off my finger!"
"I wouldn't have to lift it if you guys weren't dropping like a rock!" Hevy fired back, slamming his hands onto his hips. "This is impossible! It’s a stupid trick!"
"It's not a trick, you're just not listening!" Echo shouted, gesturing wildly. "If we follow standard regulatory pacing-"
"Quiet!" your voice rang out, not loud, but carrying an unmistakable authority that instantly slammed the room into a dead silence. The five clones froze, panting slightly, staring at you with varying degrees of exhaustion and anger.
You walked over to them, taking the stick from the floor where it had fallen for the seemingly hundredth time.
"You're failing because you're all trying to lead, and you're all trying to survive on your own," you informed them gently. "You're treating your brothers' movements like obstacles to fight against, rather than something to adapt to. You are going to change the strategy, based on who you actually are."
You looked at Echo. "Echo, you have a mind for structure and timing. You like to be the one that speaks. You will handle the countdown. No one else makes a sound."
You turned to Fives and Hevy. "You two are the anchors. You're standing at the absolute ends of the line. If you feel the stick tilting even a millimeter from your side, you do not try to fix it by jerking your hand up. You simply say one word: Halt. When they say halt, everyone freezes in place until the line levels out."
Finally, you looked at Cutup and Droidbait. "You two are the center. You are the bridge. I want you to completely ignore the stick. Do not look at the wood. I want you to lock your eyes entirely onto each other's hands. Keep your fingers perfectly level with one another, matching each other's height exactly."
The boys looked at each other, reviewing your instructions in their heads. The chaos of their individual panic was suddenly replaced by clear structure tailored specifically to their strengths.
"Set it up," you instructed
They stepped forward, placing their fingers under the stick once more. The room was deathly quiet.
Slowly, the five men began to bend their knees. Halfway down, the stick began to drift toward Hevy's side.
"Halt," Hevy said firmly.
Instantly, all five of them froze. Cutup and Droidbait kept their eyes locked on each other's hands, adjusting their fingers until wood flattened out.
They continued down. Their breathing was deep and unified. Slowly, all of their knuckles touched the ground. The stick was perfectly, beautifully level. Without a word, guided entirely by Echo they rose back up to their full height.
When the stick reached its original starting position, completely steady, a collective breath escaped the group.
Instantly, the boys erupted into absolute chaos. They were cheering, laughing, and slamming their hands against each other's hands in ecstatic high fives.
You stepped back, with a smile on your face. "See?" you said over the noise.
The boys stopped cheering, turning to look at you, blinking in confusion. "See what, sir?" Cutup asked.
"When you completed this exercise by yourselves earlier, it was easy, wasn't it?" you asked, "But when you were finished, there was no one to celebrate with. For starters, it felt like too simple of a task to even care about. And second, you were entirely alone. You were only worried about your own performance, and your individual success didn't mean a damn thing to anyone else in this room."
The smiles slowly faded from their faces as your words settled over them. They listened to you with intense focus.
"Now look at you," you continued, gesturing to the way they were standing together. "You just spent entirely too long failing at a task that should be simple, but because you conquered it together, you're celebrating. Blasting droids out on that simulation floor is not about who can shoot the most down. It is not about who can reach the citadel first. It is about conquering the battlefield together."
You stepped closer, looking at each of them. "It is about learning the strengths and weaknesses of every single man in your unit. You are brothers. You were born together, you train together, and you will fight together."
You reached out, gently tapping the wooden stick still resting in Echo's hand.
"The Citadel tomorrow is not a mountain of blasters and droids," you finished, your voice burning with an absolute, unwavering belief in them. "The Citadel is just a stick. A stick you all need to work together to raise. Now, do you think you can do that?"
The silence that followed your speech was thick with determination, the intensity of the boys' gazes proving that your lesson stuck its mark.
Then, the sudden hiss of your quarters’ door shattered the quiet.
"Babe. The hyperdrive went out again. What is it? The third time now? When are they ever-"
His voice cut off abruptly. Commander Colt marched into your quarters, his head buried deep into his datapad, his thumbs flying furiously across the screen. He took three aggressive steps into your living room, fully entangled in his own rant, before the stillness of the room made him halt.
Slowly, Colt lowered the datapad.
Five identical pairs of wide clone eyes stared up at him. The Domino Squad stood frozen, their bodies locked into attention at the sudden intrusion of an ARC Commander unceremoniously entering a Jedi’s private quarters.
For a second, nobody breathed. Colt blinked at the boys in their training sweats, then finally snapped his gaze to you.
Without saying a word, you subtly tilted your head toward the closed door of your adjoining bedroom. "Commander, help yourself," you said smoothly, your voice carrying a nonchalant edge that implied his sudden arrival was entirely expected.
Colt stared at you, his brain visibly buffering as he tried to process the scene.
"Right," Colt cleared his throat, his authoritative tone snapping back into place.
Quickly, he crossed the room, opened your bedroom door, slipped inside, allowing the door to close behind him.
The moment the door shut, the atmosphere shifted from stunned silence to burning intrigue. Five heads snapped back to you. Cutup’s mouth was practically hanging open, and Echo looked as though he was having an aneurysm trying to understand the various regulation infractions that just occurred.
But it was Fives who caught your attention most. He was leaning back slightly, his eyes fixed entirely on you, scanning your face with an incredibly seductive look. A fire danced in his gaze as he bit his lower lip, his mind clearly piecing together why there could be an unannounced, late night arrival of an ARC Trooper to your quarters.
You didn't give him the chance to voice a single theory.
Extending your hand, you sharply snapped your fingers, the sound instantly breaking their focus. “Boys!" you commanded.
The Domino Squad snapped to attention.
"You have the tools. You have the strategy," you told them, stepping into their space and letting your gaze lock onto each of them one last time. "Tomorrow, you don't fight for Bric. You don't fight for the Kaminoans. You fight for each other. Raise the stick, Dominos. Get some rest."
You walked them to the main door, the blast panel hissing open into the quiet, dim corridor of the quarters wing. They filed out in an orderly line, a completely different energy radiating from them than the broken mess you had found in the barracks prior.
"Brothers," Fives blinked in astonishment, "we need to pass tomorrow."
The second you were alone, your composure evaporated. You turned, marching towards your bedroom.
"You know, Colt, a knock would have been fantastic!" you chided sharply, stepping into the room.
Colt was already out of his gear. His armor already neatly stacked in a pile right beside your bed. He was in the middle of pulling the lower hem of his upper blacks, stretching the fabric as he yanked the tight material completely over his head.
His voice was muffled from beneath the top. "And how, exactly, was I supposed to know you’d be hosting a meeting for a squad of cadets in your living room this late at night?"
He tossed the top onto the pile with his armor, his chest falling as he let out a long, exhausted sigh. His overgrown hair was messy from his helmet - you found it cute.
You opened your mouth to fire back a snarky retort, but the words completely died in your throat.
Your eyes snapped to his bicep, where a new wound took presence. Its edges were raw and stained with dried blood. Your irritation vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by a sudden, protective urge to fix his arm. "What happened?" you asked, making your way to his side.
You reached out, carefully, as you wrapped your fingers around his forearm, gently turning his arm over to examine the injury. The wound was deep enough to cause a permanent scar. The skin around it was angry and inflamed.
Colt didn't pull away, but he let out a dismissive scoff, looking down at your hands. "It's nothing. Just a stray graze from a small blast. It’s fine."
"This is not a graze, Colt," you countered, your thumb lightly brushing the uninjured skin just above the wound, feeling the heat radiating from the inflammation. "You should have gone to the med bay the second you touched down."
Colt reached across his body with his left arm, his hand wrapping completely over yours. He squeezed gently, slowly pulling your hand away from the wound, though he didn't let go of your fingers.
"I was waiting to put the bacta patch on until after I took a shower and got the grime off," he shrugged, "I wanted to see you first. I promise, I'm fixing it." He gave your hand one last squeeze before letting go, stepping back toward the entrance of your attached refresher. "I'm going to take a shower."
You stood by the edge of the bed, a small, playful smile finally breaking through your worry. You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at his back. "Is that an announcement, Commander, or an invitation?"
Colt paused in the doorway. He stopped, looking back at you over his broad, bare shoulder. A comforting smirk tugged at his lips, and he playfully rolled his eyes with a quiet chuckle.
"Is that ever a question with you?"
Your smile widened. Without another word, you reached for the fabric of your robes, loosening the belt and letting the fabric fall in a soft heap straight to the floor, right alongside his discarded armor.
The steam from your shared shower lingered in the bedroom air, carrying faint moisture that was somehow comforting.
Colt sat leaning against the headboard of your bed, a fresh, bacta patch sealed securely over the gash on his inner bicep. The redness around the wound was already beginning to soothe under the gel. He was dressed in a pair of soft, dark blue civilian pajama bottoms and a grey sleep shirt. You were able to get yourself a matching set. It was a small luxury you two picked up together during a rare opportunity to spend the day together on Coruscant; hidden from the eyes of the Jedi Council or the Republic.
You crawled onto the mattress beside him. The moment you sank into the blankets, Colt reached out, his arm sweeping around your waist to pull you flush against his side. You let out a long, contented sigh, melting into him as you rested your head perfectly against his uninjured shoulder. You placed your hand flush against the steady rise and fall of his chest.
With a soft click of a remote, the small holoscreen on the opposite wall hummed to life, projecting a late night bolo ball match. Colt’s fingers began to move in slow, soothing circles against your arm, his thumb tracking upwards to trace the curve of your shoulder.
For a long time, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the quiet commentary from the holoscreen.
"Alright," Colt broke the silence, his mouth pressed directly against your cheek as he kissed the crown of your head. "What exactly were those cadets doing in your quarters so late at night? They looked like they saw a ghost when I walked in."
You let out a soft sigh, "That was Domino Squad. And they are a disaster, Colt." You shifted slightly, nesting closer into his side as you explained their predicament. "Individually, they are excellent. Their raw combat skills, their reflexes, their ability to hit a target. They have everything it takes to be excellent soldiers. But they lack any form of cohesion."
Colt hummed, his hand continuing its slow, mesmerizing caress down your spine. "Let me guess. Bric?"
"Exactly," you groaned, a trace of your earlier frustration bleeding back into your voice, "Bric's training style is brutal. They spend more time bickering and fighting each other during simulations than they do facing the droids. They completely bombed their trial run today."
You paused, the weight of the war pressed on your mind. "If they don't learn how to work as a team and if they don't learn how to look out for one another's blind spots, the Republic is just going to ship them out to the front lines. They’ll be nothing but human targets out there. I couldn't just sit back and watch them fail without trying to break through to them."
Colt let out a low, deeply affectionate chuckle that vibrated into the mattress. He stopped his hand on your waist, squeezing you tightly against him. "Let me guess again. You brought them in here, sat them on that couch, and made them do the stick exercise?"
You blinked, letting out a soft laugh as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. "How did you know?"
"Because I will never forget the day you did the exact same thing to my squadron," Colt smiled. He turned his head, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. "None of us would be ARC Troopers today if you hadn't forced us to look at each other instead of just looking at the battlefield. You taught us how to breathe as one unit. We owe everything to that lesson. We wouldn't have survived our first year on the field without it."
“And I saw the stick on the table,” he added, giving the top of your head a quick peck.
His gaze drifted to the holoscreen for a moment, his expression reflecting fond remembrance. "Speaking of the old squad. I got a transmission from the front lines today before we hit hyperspace. Hammer just got his official promotion to ARC Trooper."
A genuine smile bloomed on your face. "Hammer? Really? That's amazing." You shifted up onto your knees, straddling over him so you could look directly into his eyes. "That means your entire original training squad are ARC Troopers now, aren't they?"
"Every single one of them," Colt beamed. He reached up towards you, his hand gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone with a tenderness that always felt like home. He leaned forward, catching your lips in a short, but slow, deep, kiss.
When he pulled away, he gave you an affectionate nudge, "See? I told you. You train the absolute best. That's why I'm looking forward to seeing your Bravo Squad in action during the final trial tomorrow. From what El-Les logged, they're incredible. Honestly, I'd love nothing more than to have them assigned directly to my battalion when they deploy."
Your smile faltered. You let out a soft, quiet laugh that caused Colt’s brow to instantly furrow with worry.
"What is it?" he asked, "What's wrong?"
You sunk into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as if you could physically hold him away from the war.
"If they join your battalion," your voice was muffled against his skin, "I'm just incredibly jealous of them."
Colt was holding you so close there was no space left between you. "Jealous? Of a bunch of shinies?"
You lifted your face out of his neck, settling back down on his lap so that you could see him, "Because if they are assigned to your battalion, they'll get to see you every single day. And yet here I am, having to spend every day wondering if you're going to make it back."
Touched by your words, Colt sighed. His hand left your face, tracing a slow path down to your waist where he pulled you into him again, tightening his embrace.
"You don't want to be out there," he assured you softly, his chin resting on your shoulder, "Trust me. Despite what you feel right now, you do not want to be on the front lines."
"Why?" you whispered, "I'm a Jedi, Colt. I can handle it."
Colt let out a slow breath, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling as he confronted the brutal reality he faced every single day.
"Because out there, it’s a graveyard," he admitted bluntly, "It doesn't matter how brilliant your strategy is or how advanced your training is. The front lines are a nightmare. Call me selfish, but I like knowing that you are here, safe on Kamino. I like knowing that when I close my eyes in a trench when I feel alone out there, I know you’re away from it all.”
He went quiet for a moment, his chest expanding against yours.
"I've seen things that would change how you look at the galaxy," Colt continued, "I’ve watched Jedi fall in seconds due to the sheer numbers, stray shrapnel, and overwhelming blaster fire. It is terrifying to see the galaxy’s best warriors drop into the dirt just like any other soldier."
He turned his head, pushing you away from him so his eyes could meet yours.
"If anything were to happen to you out there," Colt’s voice cracked slightly, “whatever is left of me would be obliterated. I can't afford that when my brothers are counting on me to lead them."
A look of disappointment spread across your face, but Colt refused to let the darkness of the conversation steal the fact that tonight, you had each other. Shaking off the thoughts, he shifted your bodies together, sliding onto his back, then wrapping both of his arms completely around you like he was trying to cocoon you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck.
"But let's not waste our precious time worrying about the war right now," he whispered, his lips brushing against your neck as he pulled the soft blankets higher over both of you. "Right now, we are together. That's the only thing that matters."
You relaxed completely against him, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders as you nestled into his chest, letting the comforting feeling of him sink in.
"And tomorrow's success matters too," you added softly. "You know, my Bravo boys and the Dominos passing their final test."
Colt squeezed you tightly in response. "I expect Domino Squad to pull through, if they actually paid attention to your stick game."
You let out a quiet, contented sigh, your eyelids growing heavy as the absolute security of his embrace finally pulled you toward sleep. "Yeah," you concurred sleepily, your hand resting over his heart. "I think they did"
With the ambient, flickering glow of the holoscreen fading into the background, the two of you comfortably drifted off to sleep, locked tightly in each other's arms.
The silence in the barracks was broken not by bickering, but by the Domino Squad assembling their gear - together. They weren't acting like five individual cadets trying to beat each other to the refresher. The chaotic tension that usually defined them had burned away, replaced by a newfound energy.
Fives was already fully suited up, except for his helmet, which rested under his arm. He was practically vibrating with anticipation as he watched his brothers secure their gear.
Strutting over to Hevy’s bunk, a smirk played on Fives' lips. He leaned in and delivered a playful punch directly to Hevy's shoulder plate. "Alright," Fives grinned, "You ready, or are we going to let a piece of wood be the only thing we successfully lifted this week?"
Hevy snorted behind his teeth, pulling his chest plate tight and locking the side straps with a satisfying click. He didn't fire back with his usual defensive anger. Instead, a confident smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "That stick gave me a headache, Fives. I’m ready to blast something that actually shoots back. Just make sure you don't drop your side of the line today."
"Not a chance," Echo chimed in from across the aisle, "As long as we work as a unit, we aren't dropping anything."
"Hear that?" Cutup laughed, "The reg book finally works in our favor."
"Alright, enough," Droidbait said, picking up his helmet and tucking it under his arm, "Let's go show them how our squad actually moves."
Fully armored, the Domino Squad marched out of the barracks and into the massive, echoing staging hangar. The polished white floor plates reflected the harsh overhead lights, but the boys didn't look down. Their shoulders were squared, their heads held high.
Waiting for them at the center of the hangar, was Commander Colt. Domino Squad, along with the others completing their final trial that day, halted in perfect lines in front of him, snapping into a flawless, textbook formation.
Colt took a slow step forward, his voice loudly against the hangar walls, “I want you troopers to Remember, we're shoulder to shoulder on those front lines. Brothers. And sometimes we may quarrel, but no matter what, we are united. Rule one: We fight together. So who’s ready to step up first?”
He stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest, as he scanned the room. His helmeted glance stopped at the Bravo Squad.
“Let's start with the unit that ran the practice test in record time,” Colt paused, “ARC Trooper time.”
“Bravo unit, step up,” Colt ordered, stepping towards them, “Show an ARC Trooper how it's done.”
As the Bravo Squad saluted to attention, saluting Commander Colt.
Fives leaned over to Cutup, dropping his voice, “Well, Bravo to his girlfriend’s squad.”
Cutup choked back a sudden, violent bit of laughter, rapidly converting it into a rough cough as Echo shot them both a brutal, wide eyed glare.
"Move out, boys," Hevy muttered from the front of their formation, his jaw set as he ignored his brothers' antics, "Let's give them something else to talk about."
Once again, you were on the observation deck for the training grounds, confused as to why that breeze was up there. To your left stood your master. El-Les monitored his datapad with a quiet focus, while Bric paced back and forth, his arms crossed over his chest like he was practically praying for a failure to validate his skepticism.
The door at the rear of the observation deck hissed open. You didn't need to turn around to know who it was. Colt entered the observation desk and made his way right next to you.
A betraying wave of heat rushed up your neck, blooming into a faint blush across your cheeks. Seeing him now, all geared up, shook your composure to its core. He looked attractive - very attractive. To keep from giving yourself away, you forced your eyes straight ahead, staring down at the arena floor.
Colt didn't give you so much as a casual glance, seamlessly carrying professionalism the moment he entered the observation desk.
"Master Jedi," Colt greeted, as he offered your master a small nod. He reached out, taking the digital logs El-Les eagerly provided, his thumbs scrolling through the logs, "I was reviewing the preliminary performance files on the transport."
"I have to say, I am thoroughly impressed with Bravo Squad's metrics. They seem exceptional. You’ve outdone yourself," he added, signaling towards you with his chin, "Your training methods are producing some of the finest soldiers I’ve seen."
Beside you, Master Ti bowed her head slightly toward you, acknowledging your undeniable success. "She has dedicated herself completely to their development, Commander. I am glad the results speak for themselves."
"Let's see how they handle live ordnance before we start handing out medals," Bric muttered under his breath as the final trial for the Bravo Squad began.
Bravo Squad marched onto the arena floor in a pristine line. The moment the simulation began, they moved like a whirlwind. It was a display of flawless, textbook precision. Every maneuver was covered, every energy detonator was thrown with accuracy and every blast found its target. They scaled the column of the Citadel without dropping any of their momentum, finishing the course in, again, record time.
"Immaculate," El-Les released a massive sigh of awe, "An absolutely perfect run."
"Agreed," Colt stated, stepping up to stand directly shoulder to shoulder with you at the edge of the railing. He looked down at the boys below, "Outstanding execution. A testament to their instructor."
Colt reached over and placed a firm, affirming celebratory pat on your shoulder. It was a standard gesture of military camaraderie meant to look entirely platonic to the trainers and Master Ti.
But the moment his hand pressed against your shoulder, the physical touch sent an electric, jolt straight down your spine. The professional barrier between you dissolved instantly. You could perfectly sense the deep, warm, and intensely proud secret smile hidden behind his stern expression.
The contact lasted only a second before he pulled his hand away. Standing mere inches from the man you loved, you felt the reality flooded your mind again. You could share a bed in the dead of night, but right here, you were completely unable to do something as simple as reaching out to hold his hand in front of the others.
Colt cleared his throat, "Excellent work." He looked over at El-Les, "Who is next on the roster?"
"The Domino Squad," El-Les answered, tapping the interface to reset the course.
"The final unit," El-Les answered, his long fingers tapping the interface to reset the Citadel's automated defenses. "Domino Squad."
Bric immediately scoffed, letting out a harsh, derisive grunt, "A waste of everyone’s time. Those defects are just going to embarrass us. They shouldn't even be on the field.”
Down below, the heavy blast doors ground open, and Domino Squad stepped onto the arena floor.
From the absolute first second the simulation kicked into active status, they were a completely transformed unit. The bickering that had plagued their past runs was entirely gone. Instead, they moved gracefully across the terrain, adapting to one another’s movements with ease. When Hevy charged forward to draw the automated laser fire, Droidbait was already sliding into position to cover his blind spot. Echo provided knowledge of what the next orders would be, and Fives and Cutup moved along the flanks, protecting the squad’s rear. They were communicating flawlessly, running the course better than they ever had in their lives.
Up on the viewing platform, El-Les stared at the monitors in utter awe, while Bric’s jaw tightened in silent frustration. You leaned against the railing, pride swelling in your chest. They were doing it. They were doing it.
The squad successfully reached the pillar, preparing to scale the steep summit to claim the graduation beacon. Fives took the lead, reaching back to his utility belt to pull his ascension cable.
He froze. His hands clawed at his side, then his back. One by one, the other four clones reached for their belts, their heads snapping toward each other in a sudden wave of panic. Their ascension cables were completely missing from their gear packs.
On the platform you let out an audible gasp, your hands gripping the metal railing until your knuckles turned white. It felt like sabotage.
Bric immediately let out a cruel chuckle, a smug, satisfied grin stretching across his face. He crossed his arms tightly and gestured toward the training grounds. "Well, look at that," Bric declared dismissively, "Must have gotten lost.”
"What did you do?!" El-Les stepped forward aggressively, his voice cracking with defensive anger as he glared at Bric.
“I thought you had faith They'd be the best, right? Well, the best pass, No matter what,” Bric spat back, not denying his role in the missing ascension cables.
While the two trainers erupted into a fierce, escalating argument behind you, you completely tuned out their voices. You spotted movement; a spark of brilliance.
Without looking back at the arguing trainers, you sharply raised your right hand, the gesture instantly interrupting the shouting match behind you. "Look," you nodded. You pointed your finger directly down into the arena trenches.
Colt immediately turned his head, tracking the line of your finger as he stepped one step closer to you.
Down below, Domino Squad wasn't giving up. They weren't panicking. Inspired by the lesson of the stick from the night before, they had quickly analyzed the situation, recognized their strengths, and found an entirely new way to conquer the obstacle together.
Working in perfect, breathtaking unison, the boys began using the disarmed cannons to hoist themselves up the pillar.
Bric’s voice was thick with forced amusement, “Well, I'll be. Creative little clones, aren't they?”
An triumphant smile broke across your face as you watched the Domino Squad successfully reached the top of the pillar, pulling the beacon from its post.
You looked up at Colt, who was standing right at your side. Even though his helmet obscured his eyes, the slightly cocked angle of his helmeted head told you absolutely everything.
Master Ti stepped closer to the railing, her serene expression softening into a look of genuine satisfaction. She watched the boys for a long moment before turning her gaze to you, "It appears," she hummed softly, "that their additional training session paid off beautifully."
Beside her, El-Les was practically glowing. Even Bric was forced into stunned silence.
Though you were high up on the observation deck, you could hear the Domino Squad cheering, laughing, and high fiving in pure relief. They had done it.
The remaining units on deck completed their trials quickly, however, none of the subsequent squads managed to capture the energy that Domino Squad had just left on the training grounds.
Once the final performances were complete, you took a step back from the railing. You quietly bowed to Master Ti, inclining your head respectfully to the trainers. "If you will excuse me, Master," you announced, "I will dismiss myself to prepare the medals for the graduation presentation."
Master Ti offered a gentle, approving nod. "Go ahead, young one."
You turned and walked toward the exit, standing in the open doorway for a lingering second. A desperate part of your heart secretly hoped that Colt would make an excuse to slip away and follow you immediately. But as you glanced back, you saw him deeply locked in a formal, professional debrief with Master Ti.
The supply room for the medals was tucked deep within the clone barracks. You stood alone over a metallic workspace. Meticulously, you began arranging the polished graduation medals into orderly rows.
The sharp hiss of the automated door suddenly shattered the silence.
You turned around quickly, expecting a Kaminoan administrator or a maintenance droid coming to check on your progress. Instead, Colt stepped into the room. He didn't say a word as the door slid shut behind him.
Colt didn't waste a single moment. He walked straight across the small room, and placed his helmet on the workbench. Reaching out, his fingers gently pried a medal right out of your hands, setting it down on the table.
Before you could even utter his name, Colt reached forward and pulled you firmly into his arms. This was nothing like the brief, platonic pat on the shoulder he had given you on the viewing deck. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist to lift you slightly off your feet, pressing flush against the plates of his gear. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck..
"That one cadet, Fives I think. He was right, you know," Colt confessed with a low laugh, "I didn’t acknowledge it but I heard an interesting whisper from him this morning on the hangar deck. Bravo really is my girlfriend's squad. They were absolutely perfect out there. Kinda like you."
A sudden blush spread across your cheeks, and you let out a soft laugh, playfully swatting at his shoulder. But as the laughter died down, your gaze drifted over past his body, landing on a tray of polished medals resting on the counter.
"Bravo was textbook," you admitted as you looked back up at him, "But those Domino boys have my heart, Colt. They fought so incredibly hard just to get past each other, let alone the course."
"After the ceremony today, they don't belong to the training bays anymore," you whispered, the bitter reality of the galactic conflict coming to light, "They belong to the front lines."
Colt’s expression shifted, the amusement melting away into something deeply protective. "They won't be alone out there," Colt delivered the words like a sacred promise. "I'm going to pull a few strings to make sure they get a quiet first assignment together. Your boys are going to make it."
Colt looked down at you, his thumb lightly tracing your jawline before he leaned in, lacing his fingers perfectly through yours right over the trays of graduation medals. He pressed his lips to yours in one last, deep, and lingering kiss.
Yet somehow, you were still frowning.
“Hey,” Colt smiles, trying to get a smile on your face as well.
“The galaxy is going to try to keep tilting us, completely off balance - every single day we're apart," he continued, admiring the brief look of confusion on your face, “But we take a moment and level ourselves out together.”
This got a pure genuine smile out of you.
Colt gave you one last, firm squeeze, his forehead lingering against yours for a moment before he reluctantly stepped back, “Someone told me you’re really good at that.”
You couldn’t help but let out a soft, breathless laugh, "Whoever told you that must be a genius," you whispered back, your heart full despite him standing apart from you.
"An absolute expert," Colt winked as he reached for his helmet on the counter. He reached out, his finger lightly tracing the edge of the tray holding the medals for Domino Squad. "You know, when I was tracking them down after their run, I caught them crowded around the lift. They were practically shouting over one another, but Fives managed to quiet them down for a second."
He looked back up at you, a proud, warmth in his dark eyes. "He told the rest of the unit that they never would have made it up that pillar if they hadn't taken your lesson to heart. He said they owed their entire graduation to you." Colt's smile widened slightly, "The whole squad agreed. Every single one of them."
A profound wave of relief and pride swelled in your chest. They had truly understood.
"They did the hard work," you shrugged, though you couldn't stop the smile from brightening your face. "They just needed to learn how to figure it out together."
"And you showed them how," Colt added softly. He slid his helmet over his head and lifted one of the prepared medal trays, “C’mon. Let’s go congratulate some shinies.”
You picked up the remaining metallic trays, your eyes catching the reflection of the polished medals as you walked beside him. Out in the grand hallway of the barracks, the echoing, proud voices of Domino Squad made you smile just a little more.
The galaxy outside Kamino was chaotic, violent, and entirely unpredictable. It was going to pull friends, brothers and lovers to opposite ends of the stars and demand everything you had to give. But as you marched down the hallway side by side with Colt, you felt entirely unshakeable. The war could tilt the universe all it wanted, you needed to find your balance.
