“their reactions to when someone is staring at you.”
a/n: saw @tanobatcher’s tiktok where she wrote out her own head cannons and i NEEDED to write them out. thank you for giving me permission to write this out pooks. doing the commanders and captains first!
✶⋆.˚ CODY - CC-2224
It starts while you and Cody are waiting in line at a small café on Coruscant—one of those rare, quiet days where the war feels far away.
You’re reading the menu, rambling about wanting to try the new pastry, and Cody is just… watching you. Soft, relaxed, genuinely happy to be here with you instead of on a battlefield.
Then he sees it.. some guy at a table across the room, openly staring at you.
Not a passing glance.
Not polite curiosity.
A full-on, shameless, hungry stare.
Cody’s smile doesn’t even falter, but he shifts his stance ever so slightly—shoulders squared, chin lifting.
His hand rests casually on the small of your back, thumb brushing with a grounding gesture for himself more than for you.
You don’t notice.
But Cody sees everything.
He leans in, voice low, teasing, warm against your ear,
“Look at you… collecting fans wherever you go.”
You laugh, nudging him.
“Fans? Please. He’s probably staring at the menu behind me.”
Cody snorts, soft but incredulous.
“Oh no, cyare. Trust me.. he’s definitely here for you.”
You roll your eyes, amused, flustered, completely unaware that Cody has already mapped out five different ways to remove this man from the room without disrupting lunch.
“He’s harmless,” you shrug.
“Mm,” Cody hums, smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
Inside, his thoughts are a different story.
Stop staring at her. She didn’t invite your attention. Walk away before I make you.
He keeps his expression light, because the last thing he wants is to ruin your good mood over something so small.
You finally decide on chocolate, and Cody orders for both of you—calm, polite, charming.
But while you wait, the staring continues, and Cody feels every muscle in his body coil tighter.
He doesn’t confront.
Not yet.
Instead, he slides closer, arm brushing yours, claiming you without making a scene.
“Careful,” you tease him. “People might think you like me.”
Cody gives you that tiny, sideways smirk that always melts you.
“Oh, they already know,” he murmurs. And I want them to.
When you run to grab napkins, Cody’s eyes flick back to the man.
One single look—sharp, commander-level, utterly lethal.
Stop. Now.
And like magic, the guy’s gaze drops to his drink, shoulders stiffening, suddenly reconsidering every life choice he’s ever made.
Cody exhales slowly, controlled, tension draining from his posture.
Not because he doubted himself, he just didn’t want to escalate and ruin your day.
When you return, completely oblivious to the storm that almost happened, he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers resting comfortably at your hip.
You raise a brow.
“Possessive much?”
He chuckles, brushing a playful but honest kiss to your temple.
“Well, what can I say? My girlfriend’s famous.”
You laugh, leaning into him, and Cody decides, yep, worth it.
He’ll joke, he’ll tease, he’ll keep it light… because your happiness matters more than his pride.
But Maker help the next person who forgets how to respectfully use their eyes.
✶⋆.˚ REX - CT-7567
The 79’s cantina is unusually calm tonight—soft music, dim lights, clones scattered at tables unwinding after long rotations.
You and Rex sit in a booth tucked against the wall, his arm draped behind you, not quite touching, but close enough that you feel protected.
He looks relaxed even though he wore his armor, chestplate reflecting the warm lighting, helmet resting beside him on the seat.
He’s smiling because you just said something that made him forget there’s a war outside.
And then he sees it.
Across the room, a man—civilian, slouched at the bar—eyes locked on you.
Not accidental, not passing curiosity.
Lingering. Bold. Disrespectful.
Rex’s smile fades, jaw tightening just a fraction. He forces himself to breathe slowly through his nose.
Benefit of the doubt, he tells himself. Maybe he’s looking past her. Maybe he’s not actually staring.
You’re too busy talking, unaware, glowing in the low lighting, and all Rex wants is to stay in this tenderness a little longer.
But then the stranger’s gaze drops—slowly, lingering, crawling—and returns to your face with a smirk.
Rex’s patience snaps like a blaster bolt through glass.
His arm moves from behind you to rest firmly on the table—protective, grounding—as he turns his head just enough to confirm what he already knows.
Yeah. The guy’s staring at you.
Controlled yet furious, Rex exhales through his teeth. Maker, keep me from decking this man in front of her.
He really does try to stay seated.
To ignore it.
To be the reasonable, composed captain you deserve.
He lasts maybe a second.
Then he stands, his plastoid armor shifting with the movement. Smooth, silent, terrifyingly calm, and he starts walking.
“Rex?” you ask softly, confused.
He doesn’t answer, because he already knows what needs to be done.
He reaches the bar and stops right beside the man, close enough that the air shifts, close enough that the entire room quiets.
Rex doesn’t yell.
He doesn’t have to.
He leans in slightly, voice dangerously even.
“You wanna tell me what you’re lookin’ at?”
The man startles, eyes wide. “I—I wasn’t—”
Rex lets out a humorless and sharp laugh.
“Oh, you were. And now you’re gonna stop.”
The stranger opens his mouth, maybe to deny it, maybe to be stupid, but Rex raises a brow, and the words die in his throat.
Rex’s posture is relaxed, hands loose at his sides, but every fiber of him radiates do not test me.
The man swallows hard. “S-sorry.”
Rex nods, like this was a polite conversation about the weather.
“That’s what I thought.”
He steps back—not breaking eye contact—until he’s sure the guy gets the message.
Then Rex turns, face softening instantly when he sees you watching him.
He returns to the booth, sliding in beside you again, armor knocking lightly against the seat.
You give him a look mix of concern and affection.
“You okay?” you whisper.
Rex shrugs, arm returning behind you, this time brushing your shoulder deliberately.
“Fine. Just didn’t like how he was looking at you.”
You smirk. “Jealous?”
He scoffs, but his ears turn the faintest shade of pink.
“Protective,” he corrects, voice quieter. “There’s a difference.”
You lean into him.
“Well… thank you.”
Rex pressed a kiss to your forehead. It was gentle and grounding, everything he wishes the galaxy was.
“I’ll always look out for you, cyare. Always.”
Across the room, the man suddenly finds the floor very interesting.
And Rex?
He goes right back to smiling, because as far as he’s concerned, problem handled.
✶⋆.˚ WOLFFE - CC-3636
It’s supposed to be a peaceful night—just you, Wolffe, and a quiet stroll through a small Coruscant marketplace after his shift.
Shops are closing, lights dimming, crowds thinning.
Wolffe stays beside you, hand instinctively hovering near the small of your back. Not quite touching, but always there if you need him.
He’s in full armor, helmet tucked under his arm, hair slightly mussed from hours of command.
He looks tired, but content.
You’re pointing out a vendor selling tiny holo figurines when Wolffe feels it—the weight of someone’s stare.
Sharp. Intentional. Unwelcome.
His expression doesn’t change, but something in him goes perfectly still.
Without a word, his gauntleted hand finds your waist and gently guides you forward, placing you directly in front of him.
Your back meets his chest, solid and warm, as his legs widen just slightly, bracketing yours.
A wall of armor and possessive silence.
You blink up at him. “Wolffe?”
He doesn’t look at you—he’s too busy tracking the man across the walkway, gaze narrowed to a sniper’s focus.
“Nothin’ to worry about,” he mutters, voice low, controlled.
But his arm stays firm around your middle, pulling you closer, tucking you securely into his side like you belong there.. because you do.
The guy keeps staring—pretending he’s not, but failing miserably.
Wolffe’s jaw flexes once. Twice.
He won’t cause a scene… not unless he has to.
You go back to browsing, unaware of the storm brewing behind you.
Wolffe rests his chin lightly atop your head, positioning himself so his body blocks the man’s line of sight completely.
Then the stranger decides to walk past you both—slowly, deliberately—eyes still lingering.
Wolffe doesn’t speak.
Doesn’t warn.
Doesn’t negotiate.
He just moves.
As the man passes, Wolffe straightens, shifts his stance, and shoulder checks him HARD.
Hard enough to send the guy stumbling, nearly losing his footing, making a few heads turn.
“Oh. Sorry,” Wolffe says flatly, tone so insincere it’s practically a threat.
The man looks up, ready to start something, until he sees who hit him.
The armor.
The scar.
The unblinking grey-striped commander staring him down like prey.
Wolffe tilts his head. Just a fraction as he silently challenges him.
The guy swallows, quickly averts his eyes, and keeps walking fast.
Wolffe watches him disappear into the crowd, making sure he’s gone.
Only then does he soften, hand returning to your waist, pulling you gently back against him.
“You good?” he asks quietly.
You turn, confused but smiling, completely oblivious. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
Wolffe exhales through his nose, relief slipping into something warm, almost fond.
“No reason,” he lies, thumb rubbing absent circles into your hip.
You loop your arm around his middle, leaning into him.
“You’re in a cuddly mood today.”
He huffs. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation.”
You laugh and start walking again, and Wolffe follows—close, attentive, protective—eyes still scanning the area, just in case.
Because if anyone else even thinks about staring?
They’re getting shoulder checked too.
✶⋆.˚ FOX - CC-1010
Coruscant nightlife always felt a bit too loud, too bright, too chaotic, but you liked it.
And Fox liked you, so here he was, escorting you to a late dinner during his shift, armor still on, helmet on, posture relaxed for once.
You’re talking about your day, your voice was soft yet excited, and Fox can’t stop staring at you.
Not in the way others do.
His gaze is reverent. Protective. Home.
Then he notices it.
A man at the bar—leaned back in his stool, drink forgotten—eyes glued to you.
Tracking every movement. Undressing you with his stare.
Fox’s pleasant mood dissolves instantly, replaced with a cold, razor-sharp alertness.
You don’t notice since you’re too busy looking through the dessert menu.
Fox does, though. He always does.
He leans slightly toward you, voice calm but edged with steel,
“Stay here a moment, mesh’la.”
You blink. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, absolutely,” he says with a reassuring smile. “Just handling a little… administrative matter.”
You don’t even have time to ask before he’s already striding across the room—purposeful, predatory, commander mode activated.
The man doesn’t look up until Fox’s shadow falls over him.
Fox crosses his arms—biceps straining against plastoid, posture perfect and terrifying.
“Enjoying the view?” he asks pleasantly.
The guy stutters. “Wh-what?”
Fox smiles dangerously under his helmet. “I said, were you enjoying staring at the woman I’m with?”
The man’s mouth opens and closes like a dying fish.
“I-I wasn’t staring—”
Fox taps the Coruscant Guard emblem on his shoulder plate.
“Right. Because if you were, that would qualify as harassment. Which, fortunately for you, falls under my jurisdiction.”
The man pales, looking around for help. There is none.
Fox leans closer, lowering his voice so only the man can hear.
“Here’s how this goes. You’re going to stop looking at her, finish your drink, and leave. Or I will drag you out of here in binders, and you won’t see daylight again without clearance codes.”
He pauses, letting it sink in.
“Do we understand each other?”
The man nods so aggressively Fox worries he’ll sprain something.
“Good,” Fox says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
When Fox turns away, the man grabs his coat and practically sprints out of the building.
Fox returns to your table like nothing happened, sliding into his seat, expression calm, voice soft again.
“Sorry about that. What did you decide on?”
You narrow your eyes.
“What did you do?”
Fox shrugs innocently.
“Public safety is my responsibility.”
You give him a look. “…Fox.”
He sighs, reaching for your hand.
“Alright, alright. Maybe I reminded him I outrank literally everyone in this district.”
You snort. “You love pulling the rank card.”
Fox smirks, kiss-creases forming at the corners of his eyes.
“Why have power if you can’t weaponize it in defense of your beautiful partner?”
You laugh, shaking your head, until your datapad pings.
You glance at the screen.
“Um… Fox? Did you just add him to a watchlist?”
Fox removes his helmet as he pops a bite of bread into his mouth, casual as ever.
“Of course. Can’t be too careful.”
“Fox—”
“What? Saves time later.”
You stare at him in disbelief, and maybe a little awe.
He softens, thumb brushing your knuckles.
“I’m never letting someone make you feel unsafe. Not on my planet.”
You melt, because honestly? You believe him.
And somewhere in a database, a brand-new entry reads:
Subject: Creepy bar guy.
Status: Watched, monitored, and extremely unlucky.
✶⋆.˚ GREGOR - CC-5576-39
The hideout was busy today—more civilians than usual had come to drop off supplies: food, medical stock, blankets, spare tools.
You were helping organize it—clipboard in hand, sorting crates, directing where things needed to go.
Gregor was supposed to be helping too.
He was not.
He was leaning against a stack of ration boxes, helmet on the floor beside him, arms crossed, watching you with that familiar lazy grin—like you were the most entertaining thing he’d ever seen.
Then he noticed it.
One of the civilian volunteers—a young guy carrying a crate—kept staring at you.
Not quick glances.
Not accidental looks.
Full-on, wide-eyed, wow who is she staring.
Gregor didn’t tense.
Didn’t get jealous.
Didn’t even frown.
He just let out a quiet, amused little laugh.
You looked over, brows furrowing. “What?”
He tilted his head toward the civilian, smirking.
“You’ve got an admirer.”
You blinked, confused, until you caught the guy doing that lingering stare again.
Your face warmed instantly.
“Oh Maker,” you muttered, pretending to check your clipboard. “He’s being obvious.”
Gregor shrugged like it was the most natural thing in the galaxy.
“Well, of course he’s staring. Look at you.” He waved a hand at you dramatically. “Anyone with functioning eyesight would.”
You swatted his arm lightly. “Be serious.”
He leaned in, voice rich with playful innocence.
“I am being serious. You’re hot. It’s practically a public hazard.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but Gregor cut you off—eyes sparkling, grin widening.
“Honestly?” he mused, nodding toward the guy, “Maybe you should give him a chance. Poor kid looks like he’s about to faint.”
Your jaw dropped. “Gregor!”
He held both hands up like he was being reasonable.
“What? I’m just saying, good for him. Look at his taste! Impeccable!”
You stared at him, scandalized and flustered.
He leaned closer, dropping his voice into something softer, warmer—meant only for you.
“But…” his fingers brushed yours, just barely, “you’re already taken.”
Your heartbeat stuttered.
His grin shifted—still playful, but undeniably possessive—like he enjoyed reminding you as much as saying it.
Across the hideout, the staring civilian suddenly found something else to carry—quickly, awkwardly, and in the opposite direction.
Gregor chuckled, satisfied, bumping your shoulder with his.
“See? No need to scare him off. Just had to remind the room who you belong to.”
You squinted at him. “You are insufferable.”
He winked, picking up a crate like he finally intended to help.
“Yeah, but I’m your problem.”
And as he walked past you, he added—just loud enough for you to hear.
“Lucky you.”
✶⋆.˚ HOWZER - CT-7569
The two of you are standing in line at a small open-air café on Ryloth—warm lights, soft night breeze, quiet chatter filling the streets.
Howzer’s shift ended an hour ago, but he’s still in his armor—minus the helmet—arms crossed loosely over his chest, hair slightly tousled, expression relaxed.
He’s listening to you talk about your day, nodding along, eyes warm and focused, because when you speak, he always listens.
You’re mid-sentence when he notices someone a few tables over staring.
Not a curious glance.
Not a passing look.
A lingering, territorial stare.
Howzer’s smile fades just a touch, shoulders straightening.
He doesn’t interrupt you—he never would—but his attention shifts, eyes narrowing slightly.
He watches for a moment, giving the benefit of the doubt.
Maybe the guy will look away. Maybe he’ll realize he’s being weird.
He doesn’t.
In fact, he stares harder—eyes dragging over you slowly, disrespectfully.
Howzer’s jaw ticks.
He tries to breathe through it, tries to stay calm because he hates conflict, hates making a scene, hates the idea of ruining your evening.
But he also refuses to let anyone treat you like that.
So he steps forward—smooth, controlled, radiating authority—and positions himself slightly in front of you, blocking the man’s view.
You pause. “Howzer?”
He offers you a gentle smile. “One sec, mesh’la.”
Then he turns and walks toward the man with a calm, steady, and purposeful stride.
The guy looks up, startled, clearly not expecting a cloned captain built like a wall to approach him.
Howzer stops right beside his table, tilts his head slightly, voice polite, but sharpened with steel.
“Can I help you…?”
Not friendly.
Not genuine.
A warning wrapped in manners.
The man blinks. “What? No— I wasn’t—”
Howzer raises a brow, unimpressed.
“Oh, really? Because you’ve been starin’ for a while. Thought maybe you needed something.”
The tone is condescending and just enough to make the point without escalating.
The entire patio goes quiet, all eyes suddenly on the interaction.
The guy flushes, shrinking into himself.
“N-no, sir. Sorry.”
Howzer holds his gaze for a moment—long enough to make sure it sinks in—then gives a curt nod.
“Good. Then keep your eyes to yourself.”
His voice is calm, quiet, but devastatingly firm.
He doesn’t wait for a response, he just turns on his heel and walks back to you.
You’re staring at him, wide-eyed.
“Everything… okay?” you ask slowly.
Howzer’s expression softens immediately as he reaches you, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back—guiding you forward in line again.
“Yeah,” he says, voice warm now, almost playful. “Just helped someone remember their manners.”
You snort. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He leans down, lips brushing your temple.
“I know. But I’ll never let someone disrespect you, not while I’m around.”
Your heart flips, cheeks warming.
You loop your arm through his, and he pulls you a little closer—protective, but tender.
Behind you, the man hurriedly pays and leaves, head down.
Howzer watches him go for half a second—satisfied—then returns his full attention to you like nothing ever happened.
“Now,” he says, smiling gently, “you were telling me about the part with the flowers?”
And just like that, your night continues—safe, comfortable, yours.
✶⋆.˚ MAYDAY - CC-????
The outpost is quiet for once—snow drifting lazily outside, heater humming, you and Mayday sharing a rare moment of peace at his cluttered desk.
He’s half in armor—pauldrons off, chestplate unbuckled, gloves tossed aside—hair slightly messy, scruff framing that devastating smirk.
He looks tired, but lighter with you there, shoulder brushing yours as you flip through supply logs together.
Then he notices it.
Some visiting lower rank officer across the room—pretending to review paperwork—eyes glued to you.
Not subtle.
Not respectful.
Just staring like you’re a warm fireplace in the middle of a frozen wasteland.
Mayday doesn’t tense, doesn’t posture, he just… laughs.
A low, amused, is this guy serious? kind of laugh.
You glance up. “What?”
Mayday tilts his head toward the man, voice dripping with smug amusement.
“You’ve got an admirer.”
You roll your eyes, dismissing it. “He’s just looking around.”
Mayday arches a brow, no he isn’t, and leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest like he’s settling in for entertainment.
But his gaze stays soft on you—never threatening, never demanding—just quietly claiming.
Then the staring continues.
Longer.
Harder.
Bolder.
Mayday exhales through his nose—still amused, still dangerous.
He shifts forward, elbows on his knees, leaning in close enough that his breath brushes your ear, voice low and wicked.
“Wanna give him a show?”
You freeze, pulse tripping. “Mayday—”
He chuckles again, hand sliding to your thigh—not squeezing, just resting there like it belongs.
His eyes never leave yours.
“I’m just saying,” he murmurs, tone playful but possessive, “a kiss would send a very clear message.”
You turn slightly, meeting his gaze—dark, confident, inviting.
“And what message is that?” you ask, breath softer than intended.
His smirk deepens—dangerously slow, smug, sure.
“That you’re mine.”
Not up for debate. Not a question.
A fact.
Before you can respond, he gently cups your jaw—thumb sweeping across your cheek, touch both reverent and territorial—leans in, and kisses you.
Unhurried and certain. Completely unapologetic.
The kind of kiss that says I’ve waited for this and I dare you to look away.
You melt into him, fingers gripping the edge of his pauldron, and he smiles against your lips because yeah—he knew you would.
When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t glance at the staring officer.
He doesn’t need to.
Instead, he keeps his forehead resting against yours, voice soft but laced with smug satisfaction.
“Still looking?”
You peek over his shoulder.
The man is suddenly very invested in a blank datapad.
Mayday laughs—low, satisfied—and presses one more kiss to your temple, thumb brushing your chin.
“Thought so.”
Then he sits back, arm draped over the back of your chair, posture relaxed, claiming you without touching.
“Now,” he says casually, “where were we?”
Like he didn’t just ruin someone’s self-esteem and mark you as his in one breathtaking move.
gn! reader
warnings: none
a/n: it’s so hot rn, I have sweat in places I should never have sweat
it’s summertime, the reader and the clones are on a hot planet! it’s too hot to sleep next to them and you overheat easily, so you lay on the floor next to the bed instead.
FOX feels the bed move, any signal of something out of the norm awakes him immediately. he opens his eyes and notices the empty side, making him sit up. “what are you doing?” he asks, you tell him it’s too hot to be next to anything. fox needs structure, so he won’t be able to sleep, he moves onto your side of the bed and peers down at you, lying back down.
WOLFFE stirs slightly as the bed moves, he opens his eyes and frowns at the emptiness of the bed, the light in the ‘fresher is off, so you’re not there. it’s when he hears creaking from the floor, he sits up and glares down. “why are you down there?” you tell him it’s too hot, he sighs in return and lays back down, ending the conversation there.
CODY startles awake and opens his eyes, he glances down at the floor. “uh, what are you doin’ down there?” you tell him why and he snorts softly in response, kicking the blanket off the bed. “fair enough, g’night.” he goes back to sleep.
BLY awakes at the sound and tilts his head, calling your name, you tell him you were on the floor. he scoots over and murmurs, hoping you’re not mad at him, “why are you on the floor?” you tell him you’re overheating, he nods in return and leans his arm over the bed, gripping your hand as he lays back down.
MAYDAY doesn’t awake at first, it’s a little later in the night when he goes to put his arm over you, to find you’re not there. he pats around the bed and lifts his head up, panicking slightly, he sits up and sees you on the floor. he sighs and rubs his face, he glances down at your sleeping form and smiles, glad you were safe.
REX hears the movement and lets out your name through a hushed whisper, you tell him you’re overheating and need to sleep somewhere else. he hums sleepily in response, scooting over to the edge of the bed so you can be in his sight as he sleeps.
GREGOR was already awake when you shuffle against his arms, he groans and opens his eyes. “mm, where’re y’goin’?” you say you’re too hot to be against anything and want to sleep on the floor. he nods and hops off the bed, going down on the floor with you. “you’re right ‘bout this being better.”
HOWZER hands twitch as he felt the warmth of the other hand disappear, he murmurs incoherently and slowly sits up, before whispering your name. you tell him you’re on the floor, to which he responds confused. “okay… why?” you chuckle at him and say it’s just because you’re too hot. “oh, right, ‘pose it’s a bit hot.” he lays back down and grabs your pillow to hug.
HUNTER hears the littlest noise of movement and opens his eyes, he stays silent but watches you settle on the floor. you notice him and tell him you’re overheating. “yeah, s’quite hot, ain’t it?” he murmurs, he already has his hair up and sleeping in minimal clothing possible, he also overheats easily.
WRECKER has you in a bear hug as he snores, you try to wriggle out of him, but he doesn’t wake. you shake him and tell him you’re extremely hot and need some space. he slowly softens his grip, he’s disappointed but doesn’t show it. “aw, can’t have ya suffocatin’ now.” he chuckles and gazes at you.
TECH already knows you overheat easily, he’s read your signs and kept space between you both during your sleep anyway. he watches you slip out of bed and onto the floor. “would you like me to get you any cold water?” you shake your head and tell him your fine, you just need some more space.
CROSSHAIR grunts annoyed as he opens his eyes, he glares as you slide onto the floor. “what the hell are you doing?” you tell him you need to sleep elsewhere because you’re overheating. “suit yourself, then.” he murmurs, but watches over to make sure you get back to sleep.
ECHO snaps his eyes open as movement and creaking filled his ears, he saw you and whispers, “hey, you okay?” you say you just need to sleep on the floor because it’s cold. he understands the discomfort and he nods in return. “m’kay, sleep well.”
FIVES wakes up as soon as he feels you move away. “hey… where ya goin’? I was comfy.” you laugh softly and say you just need some space because of the heat. “huh, didn’t think I was that hot but touché.” he grins and lay on your side of the bed.
JESSE lets out an absentminded groan as he feels the bed dip and move. “mmh, what’re you doin’?” you say you need to sleep on the floor because you’re overheating. “oh, yeah—sure, just be comfy n’ that.” he murmurs in a way that makes you think he didn’t comprehend what you really said.
HARDCASE was already awake before you decide to move, he grumbles and holds you tighter as you move. “mm, don’t go.” you respond by telling him you’re too hot and need to be somewhere. “oh! we can both sleep outside, let’s go!” he sits up and grips your hand, the other arm grabbing the pillows and he literally drags you outside. not what was quite on your mind, but it was nice either way.
KIX softens his grip silently as you move, he watches you move to the floor and he whispers. “too hot?” you nod in reply. “want me to get you some water?” you shake your head and say you just want sleep. “I get that, but if you’re overheatin’ you need water.” basically, there was no way to stubborn your way around it.
DOGMA chews his lower lip as you move away from him. he doesn’t say anything but just watches you, his facial expression is subtly sad, though, he thinks he did something wrong. you reassure him you’re just too hot. “oh…” he murmurs embarrassed. “sleep well.”
TUP furrows his eyebrows as you move away, he whispers your name in a disappointed tone. “i’m sorry, did I do something?” you quickly sit up and shake your head, saying you’re just too hot. “oh! okay, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” he smiles and lays on the bed close to you.
Random thought: Crosshair vs Mayday calling you “princess”
Warning: use of the pet name “princess” (ik it’s not for everyone), some smut, 18+
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Crosshair who calls you “princess” as a way to get under your skin. If he wants to get you going, all he has to do is utter that name. Crosshair would never tell you, but he only calls you that so you give him your attention — and he thinks you’re beautiful when you’re yelling at him (#he has issues).
Crosshair who calls you “princess” in bed as a way to tease you. Especially after you begged him to let you be on top, but now your trembling legs are too tired to help you move.
“What’s wrong? Too much work for you, princess?” Crosshair teases below you. You muster a glare to send his way, but you still give in and let him take control. Even though Crosshair teases you, he secretly loves that you’re a pillow princess. He’s an asshole, but your pleasure is important to him.
Vs
Mayday who calls you “princess” only to show adoration — he never says it in a condescending way. He definitely gives you princess treatment, so it’s only natural for “princess” to be added in the list of affectionate names he has for you.
Mayday knows he’s lucky to have you, to love you, and always makes sure to tell you that. It’s cheesy, but when he has you sprawled out on the bed, your hair perfectly framing your face, and your soft eyes looking up at him, Mayday thinks your beauty is something only out of a fairytale.
Mayday who won’t argue about letting you on top. In fact, he LOVES it when you’re on top. “So beautiful… doing so well, princess,” he murmurs from below, taking in the ethereal view above him. He gets off on praising you just as much as you get off on his praise. His hands find your hips, just to ground both of you in this intimate moment.
Summary: Now that you're together with your soulmates, the three of you traverse the galaxy, looking for safe places to lay low for a while. You deal with budding feelings for your soulmates, one of them willing to close that gap between you while the other keeps his distance.
Pairing: Crosshair x reader x Mayday Soulmate AU
Word Count: 8,580 words
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, p in v sex, oral sex, soft sex, language, kissing, slight angst, NO CLONECEST, soulmate AU, lots of feelings
A/N: Well, what was supposed to be a two part fic has turned into at least three 😂 the way this could easily be a ten part fic...anyway, mainly focused on Mayday in this one, but I promise the next will be focused on Crosshair and his stubborn ass. Hope you enjoy!
Part 1 | MASTERLIST
The days after your exodus from the planet go by smoothly, as smoothly as they can, at least. It’s an adjustment, living on a ship again. This time, though, it’s not just you. You’ve got two more bodies to account for now, two very different bodies.
The first few days require some tiptoeing, trying to figure out some kind of rhythm, some kind of flow around each other. The ship isn’t huge, meant for maybe three or four maximum. Despite that it seems even smaller with your two soulmates with you. Personal space is out of the question, except in the ‘fresher. It normally wouldn’t be a problem, except there’s nowhere for you to truly decompress, to try and process your roiling emotions. You’ve tried meditating, but ever since the purge you’ve struggled to truly clear your mind. It required a vulnerability you haven’t felt safe enough to reach.
Even with your soulmates around, you still can’t clear your head enough to truly lean into the Force. If anything, they seem to be making it worse. It’s harder to focus with that pulling in your chest, the desire deep in your bones to be near them, to touch them, hold them. You’re truly understanding why the Jedi forbade soulmates. One cannot truly live without attachment when you’ve met your soulmate.
You’d do anything to have them close to you, safe where you can see them.
If they’re struggling with it, they’re good at hiding it.
You and Mayday find the flow first after a few days of stepping on toes. You feel closer to him already, that night between the two of you bridging the gap that had been there. He’s the most open with you, willing to be close to you, closer than your forced proximity already makes you be. Often you find yourself easing him to sleep, staying with him as long as you can. You sit in the small bunk, his head resting in your lap, your hand in his resting against his chest. Sometimes you drift off there, slipping into that space between sleep and alertness you seem to hover in indefinitely when you try and sleep.
Even when it is your turn to sleep, you find yourself unable to truly rest. You haven’t slept since your return from rescuing your soulmates, but even then that had been brought on by depleting your energy, draining some of your lifeforce to bring Mayday back. You gave a piece of yourself to him in that moment, something he’ll never completely be able to understand. Not that you’ll tell him. He already feels indebted enough to you for saving his life.
You would never have held it against him, even if he hadn’t been your soulmate.
“It’s your turn.” A voice says behind you, and you turn to glance at Crosshair.
“I can stay awake longer,” you say, brows furrowing. “If you want to rest more.”
“I’m fine.” He says stiffly, waiting behind you for you to move from the pilot’s seat.
The three of you have found a rhythm of taking turns keeping watch. There’s nothing much to watch, aside from hyperspace and the occasional trip to a different lane. Every so often you can feel madness pulling at your mind if you stare for too long at the swirling blue outside the transparisteel. Still, the three of you cycle through rotations, ready in case something does happen, like the Empire waiting for you as you drop out of hyperspace.
“If you’re sure.” You say, staring up at him.
He doesn’t say anything, but you can see it in his eyes. He’s not going to argue with you. It’s his turn and there’s nothing you can do about that.
Crosshair...he’s...difficult. He’s distanced himself from you and Mayday, even in close quarters. He sticks to himself in the pilot’s seat, and goes straight to his bunk as soon as his turn is over. He rarely speaks, aside from the occasional remark when he has to give one. You can’t help but wonder if he’s always been like this, so stiff and unfriendly. Most clones you met had a disposition to be friendly once you got to know them, once you sunk below the dedication to their duty they wore with their armor.
Crosshair, though. He’s something else.
“Nothing happened while you were resting.” You say as you stand, letting him take your place. “We should move to another lane soon, while we wait to hear from Rex.”
“I’ve got it.” He says, glancing at you over his shoulder before settling into the seat.
“Right,” you say, taking a couple steps back before turning around, making your way to where Mayday sits on the floor.
“Don’t let him get to you.” Mayday says softly, handing you a ration pack as you sit next to him.
“I’m not.” You say, peeling it open. Living off rations hasn’t been ideal, but then again, nothing about your situation is ideal. What you wouldn’t give for a warm meal and a real bed.
Mayday gives you a sideways glance before looking back at his ration pack. “This orxtle stew isn’t bad, once you get used to it.”
You chuckle, taking a bite. “It’s really not. What I wouldn’t give for real food, though.” You lean your head back against the wall. “I’ll find us somewhere we can settle down for a short while soon. A real bed, a good shower. You never know how lucky you are until it’s gone.”
Mayday smiles softly. Of course, most of his life had been lived in a sterile, militaristic environment. The Republic didn’t care about the comfort of the clones and what was even more upsetting was that they were used to it. You can’t help but wonder if Mayday has ever slept in a real bed before. Surely on shore leave he must have found somewhere to stay with a good, soft bed.
The idea that he might not have has a lump forming in your throat.
They deserved so much better.
They still do.
“Come on,” Mayday says, offering you a hand once you’re both done eating.
You frown in confusion, but take his hand anyway. “What are you doing?”
“You’re going to get some rest.” he says, pulling you across the ship to the bunks. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you not getting much rest.”
“Mayday,” you say softly as he climbs onto the bunk, sitting on the end like you do when you help him sleep. He puts the pillow in his lap, giving some cushion to his armor. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to help you sleep.” He says, patting the bed.
“I didn’t know you were versed in Jedi mind tricks.” you say, climbing up onto the bed anyway.
“I wouldn’t say that I am.” He says as you lay down, resting your head in his lap. The pillow is thin, but you’re grateful for it. “But anything I can do to try and help.”
You’re not sure it will help. It probably won’t, but the idea is touching.
He takes your hand, lacing your fingers with his before resting them against your chest. “Close your eyes.” He says softly, his other hand lifting to rub your temples.
You let out a long breath, relaxing into his lap. You can feel him, the warmth of his being in the Force. Even Crosshair seems softer when he’s not paying attention. You let out a hum as Mayday starts to massage your scalp, almost as if he can ease the tension from your mind. Your eyes slip closed, Mayday’s presence and his calming touch easing your body into a relaxed state.
Your body feels heavy as you lay there, letting his touch lull you into the waiting arms of sleep.
****
You finally get your wish for a warm bed and a hot meal when Rex sends coordinates for a planet free of the Empire, at least for now. The ship has grown smaller and smaller over the last few days, and you’re in desperate need for some fresh air and dirt under your boots. In desperation you take the chance to stay somewhere for longer than just a refuel and a stock up. Even just one night with a roof over your head in a real bed, free from the drag of hyperspace and the enclosed space of the ship, will be enough.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Mayday asks, his voice crackling through his helmet. The three of you are getting glances as you walk down the path into town. Mostly curious, some hesitant. From what you could tell this planet had been untouched during the war, but with a large spaceport, no doubt they heard stories.
“Rex said it’s safe and I trust him.” You say, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. Your lightsaber is tucked safely inside, hidden just in case. You doubt you’ll need it on this planet, but you could never be too careful.
You find the inn easily, stepping inside. The air is cool and clean, free from the slight metallic tang of recycled air. It’s a small inn, but the prospect of a real bed keeps you from being too suspicious. There’s no hostility prevalent in the Force, just confusion and some uneasiness.
“We’d like a room please.” You say to the weequay behind the counter.
He eyes you and the clones behind you before nodding. “How many?”
You think on it for half a moment, thinking of the two clones behind you. “Two.” You say. One would be safer, but you want to give them their privacy. You want your privacy too, after spending over a week stuck on a ship with them.
Both of the clones behind you shift uneasily, and you can just picture the look they’re sharing.
You pay for the rooms, passing off one of the keys to Crosshair. “Let’s go.”
You’re excited at the prospect of a real shower and a real bed as they follow you down the hall. The rooms are across from each other, the three of you coming to a stop in the hallway. Mayday and Crosshair share a look as you use one of the keys to open the room.
Mayday slips past you before you can enter, doing a sweep of the room before coming back out. “It’s safe.” He says, glancing down at you.
You pass off the spare key to him. “Just in case.”
Mayday takes it, nodding. “Enjoy yourself.”
“I’ll knock around third meal time.” You say. “I figure we’ll go out to eat. Get something warm in our stomachs.”
They nod and you close the door, leaning against it for a moment. It feels odd, being alone. The room almost seems too big without their presence constantly surrounding you. For a moment you wish you had just gotten one room, but at the same time, you know they’ll want their own privacy as well. They’ve been stuck with you too, and no doubt they want a break from your presence as well.
You drop your bag on the bed, pulling off your poncho. You need a shower, a good long shower. You take your comm to the fresher just in case, setting it on the small counter. It’s a small fresher, but it has a real shower with running water. That’s all you can ask for after days of nothing but a sonic. You love your ship, but she’s not exactly ideal for long-term travel.
Another reason to look for somewhere more permanent.
You take a long shower, soaking yourself as long as you can stand, scrubbing every inch of your body until your skin hurts. You need this break, this moment to re-calibrate, to rest, to clear your head. Being in close quarters with your soulmates has been distracting, even if just one of them was seeking that kind of connection with you. Crosshair’s distance has intensified that ache in your chest, but you’ve been shoving it aside, focusing on that blossoming warmth coming from Mayday.
You can still feel his fingers gently massaging your scalp, the warmth of him surrounding you as he held you while you slept. You did actually sleep, managing to slip below that haze of half-awareness you existed in. You still hold him when he sleeps. It seemed to help fight away that anxiety, the dread that settles into him when it comes time for him to rest. That’s something you didn’t think about in this arrangement. He’s not going to be able to sleep alone in that room.
Maybe you should have just gone with one room.
You change into clean clothes after your shower, laying yourself out on the bed. It’s a bit lumpy, but it feels like heaven after the stiff mattresses in the bunks of your ship. You could fall asleep right here like this, splayed out on top of the bed.
You don’t, though, far too aware to drift off to sleep. Instead you simply lay there, eyes closed as you try to focus on the Force. It swirls around you, seeping into your mind, easing your thoughts to a quiet hum. You focus on Mayday and Crosshair, on their beings, the life that exudes from them. There’s a tingling at the base of your skull, a feeling almost like giddiness filling you as you think on them.
They’re your soulmates.
The two beings your soul was meant to find, to have. None of you would be complete without the other. Even Crosshair and Mayday would have a more profound bond than they would with others because of their shared link with you. Perhaps that’s what drove Crosshair to kill their superior officer. Mayday nearly died because the Empire shared the same view as the Republic. The clones were hardly more than tools, useful only as bodies to fill a gap. Even now they were being phased out, disappearing more and more each day.
You saved them from that same treatment. You brought Mayday back from the brink of death, and you saved Crosshair from being another clone that disappeared, or worse. What would they have done to him? The thought has nausea churning in your stomach, nerves prickling under your skin. How easily you could have lost both of them. A few more moments and they would have been gone forever.
You push the thoughts aside, anxiety blooming under your skin. You crack your eyes open, sitting up on the bed. The sky is starting to darken, the chronometer on the bedside table telling you it’s nearly time for third meal. There’s a cantina across the street, a good place to look for hot food. Anything will be better than rations, you think.
You push yourself off the bed, grabbing your bag and throwing on your poncho before leaving the room to get your soulmates.
****
It’s late.
Something moves inside your room, shifting in the dark. You’re awake almost instantly, reaching out in the Force for whatever malice you might feel, whatever agent has made the mistake of creeping into your room in the dead of night. You sit up in bed, flicking on the light, lightsaber hilt in hand. You’re ready for a fight, even with the groginess of sleep still tugging at your mind.
“Mayday?” You ask quietly, brows furrowing as you blink away the sting of the lamp’s light from your eyes.
He’s standing at the end of your bed, looking rather sheepish. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay.” You say, setting your saber hilt back on the bedside table. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” He says, shifting on his feet. He’s still wearing his armor, helmet in hand.
Of course. You had been right in your assumption he wouldn’t be able to sleep without you. Of course you’ll help him again, but you feel bad about poor Crosshair being left alone. He might prefer it, though, getting a break from you and Mayday.
You try not to let that bother you.
You sit up straighter in bed, resting your back against the headboard. “Come here.”
“I, uh, had something different in mind tonight.” He says, shifting on his feet.
“Okay.” You say softly, watching him.
He hesitates for just a second before he moves to the side of the bed, stripping off his armor piece by piece before climbing under the covers. It takes you by surprise as he shuffles closer, wrapping his arms around you. He’s hesitant, moving slowly, waiting for you to stop him, to say no. You’re curious about what he has in mind, letting him shift your body so you’re laying further on the bed. The length of his body presses against your side, his head coming to rest on your stomach. Your heart is thumping hard in your chest, your body tingling from how close he is. This feels far more intense, far more...intimate.
His arm wraps around your body, hand pressing against your side. “Thought this might be more comfortable for you.”
It is, at least it will be more comfortable than trying to sleep sitting up. You doubt you’ll be able to sleep though, not with your thoughts reeling from having him so close. He feels so warm, like a heated blanket pressed against you. You feel alive, every nerve ending alight where he’s touching you.
You rest a hand on his head, stroking his soft hair. He lets out a sigh, gripping you tighter, his fingers flexing against your side. “I like this.” He murmurs, his breath warm through your thin shirt.
“I do too,” you admit, resting your hand against the side of his head. “It feels nice.”
He hums as you start to ease his thoughts, pulling him into the waiting arms of sleep. His body grows heavy against yours as he relaxes, his breaths slow and even.
You’re far too awake to sleep, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You’ve had him this close before, but it’s never felt quite like this. You can feel another gap being closed, a bridge being built between the two of you in this moment. You drape an arm over him, leaning back against the pillows. He’s so warm and his weight is so comforting, grounding you in the moment. Slowly your eyes begin to droop, growing heavy as sleep waits to take you into her waiting arms.
****
You’re not sure what time it is when you wake. The curtains over the window are blocking out the sun, but there’s a dim light in the room. It’s warm in the bed, a gentle, slow thumping echoing in your ear. You shift your head, cracking your eyes open.
Oh.
You’ve moved in the night, Mayday on his back now against the pillows. You’re laying on his chest, his arm wrapped around you. An excited thrill runs down your spine at the prospect of being held by him, of being wrapped in his arms. He’s awake, you can tell by the gentle brush of his thumb on the back of your arm. Not only did he wake to find you like this, but he’s willingly stayed like this since. Your heart starts to pound hard in your chest, warmth flowing through you.
“Mayday?” You say quietly, shifting just slightly against him.
His thumb stills, his body tensing just in the slightest. “Yes?” His voice is equally as soft.
“How long have we been like this?”
“Since I woke up.” He says softly. “I didn’t want to move and wake you.”
“I don’t mind.” You say quietly. “If you’re uncomfortable…”
“I’m not.” He says quickly, holding you just slightly tighter than he was. “I...I think this is quite nice, actually.”
You hum, listening to the steady thump of his heart beneath your ear. It’s picked up speed just slightly. That fact has a smile tugging at your lips. “I think it’s nice too.” you say. “Comfortable.”
He swallows thickly, his heart picking up speed just a bit more. You tilt your head up, cheek brushing against the rough fabric of his blacks. He’s staring down at you, something unreadable in his gaze. He’s nervous, you can feel that through the Force. His hand flattens against your back, warm through your thin tunic.
“Mayday?” you whisper, gaze locked with his.
“If I wanted to kiss you, would you mind?” He asks.
You shake your head. “I wouldn’t mind.”
You lean forward, your gaze dropping to his lips. His hand raises, cupping your cheek tenderly, pulling you the rest of the way down. Your lips brush his softly, almost hesitantly. Your own heart is thudding hard in your chest, excitement and nerves fluttering under your skin. You haven’t been this close to another person in a long time.
His lips press firmer against yours, his fingers sinking into your hair, holding you in place. You hum against his lips, tilting your head as he deepens the kiss. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, your very nerves alight with energy. You feel closer to him, closer than you are just physically, like a piece of your soul has been put back into place. A piece you hadn’t known was missing. It leaves you feeling full and warm and so alive.
Mayday shifts, rolling over so you’re on your back in bed, his body hovering over yours. His hand slides from your hair to your cheek, cradling your face as he pulls back. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. You’re breathing the same air, close enough you can feel it fanning your lips.
“I liked that.” You say softly, staring up into those big brown eyes.
“So did I.” He says, his gaze intense.
There’s a moment of silence between the two of you, lost in each others’ eyes. The hole in your chest is slowly closing, something filling that gap in your soul you hadn’t realized was there. It’ll never completely close, not until Crosshair opens himself up to you, but for now you’ll take this lessening of the ache that’s filled you since the day you rescued them.
Mayday leans down again, closing that space between you as he kisses you once more. His body is pressed against yours, heavy weight settled against you. It’s grounding, a firm reminder that he’s really here, that he’s really with you, that this is really real.
A knock on the door has you both pulling away from each other, your face warming. It’s likely Crosshair waiting for the two of you to find somewhere to have first meal. You wonder how long he’s been waiting, how much time he gave you before he grew tired.
Mayday rolls from on top of you, sitting up on the edge of the bed. You do the same on the other side, straightening yourself up a bit before heading for the door. You’re right, it is Crosshair on the other side, his gaze sharp and assessing. Of course he’s assuming. He woke up to find Mayday gone and there would be only one place he’d go. That doesn’t stop the warmth from blossoming across your face as you stare up at him.
“Morning, Crosshair.” You say, clearing your throat. “We’ll be out in a minute.”
He doesn’t say anything, just nods once before you close the door again. You bury your face in your hands, your face burning. You shouldn’t feel ashamed, yet embarrassment at the awkwardness that had just ensued rushes through you. The things he probably thought went on in this room last night.
You take a moment to calm down, sprucing yourself up in the ‘fresher as Mayday dons his armor again. You pack your bag, slipping your saber in the pocket before the two of you step out, Mayday’s hand slipping into yours. You squeeze your fingers around his hand, giving him a smile before the three of you make your way down the hallway.
****
The ship feels even smaller now that this development has grown between you and Mayday. You’re back in space again, jumping from one hyperspace lane to the next, looking for your next safe place to lay low for a few days. You wish you could have stayed on that planet longer, but it wasn’t safe. Not with the Empire rapidly expanding its occupations. Nowhere was truly safe, except perhaps some backwater planets with no spaceports.
Those were always an option.
A last ditch option, but they were still on the list.
“You’re not sleeping again.” Mayday says as the two of you sit side by side eating what you suppose is second meal. You haven’t been sleeping much, that’s true. You’ve been too busy thinking up plans, where to go, what to do if the Empire finds you. You’ve already resigned to the thought that you’d sacrifice yourself for your soulmates. You’d give them a fighting chance to get away, even if it meant your death. It’s not fair, but it’s what you’d do.
You won’t tell them that though. Not unless the time came for it.
You hope it never will.
You shrug your shoulders, brushing up against him. “Just haven’t been able to calm my mind.” You admit it, not wanting to keep too many things from him.
He hums, staring at you. “You worry too much.”
“It’s in my nature.” You say, turning to gaze back at him. “I worry about you and Crosshair, about what might happen should the Empire find us.”
“We’re being careful.” He says, reaching out to brush the back of your hand with his gloved fingers. “Any sight of them and we know what we have to do.” Run for our lives.
“I just wish we could find somewhere permanent.” You say quietly, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Stop having to run and hide. Somewhere we know will be safe.”
He leans his head on top of yours, sighing softly. “That would be nice. But something tells me we won’t be so lucky.”
You hum in agreement, pulling away to eat the rest of your meal. You grab another packet of food, making your way to the front of the ship to give Crosshair some reprieve.
“Here,” you say, holding out the packet to him. “You should get some rest.”
He glances up at you before taking it. “I’m fine.”
You sink into the co-pilot’s seat, turning it so you’re facing him. “You know you don’t have to be so distant.” You fold your legs under you. “I don’t bite...unless you want me to.”
His sharp gaze deepens into a glare at your joke, but you don’t back down. You continue to stare at him softly, trying to break through that razor sharp barrier between the two of you. His hesitation, his fear, his insecurity. You can feel it all in the Force, the inner turmoil he feels every day. It would lessen if he would just let go, if he just gave in. You could help him carry that guilt that brews under the surface. You want to pick at it, break that ice bit by bit until he’s open to you. You won’t, though. You’ll respect that boundary.
“Seriously, though, you should go rest.” You say softly, continuing to stare at him.
“Are you going to sit here until I do?” He asks.
You nod. “Yes.”
He stares at you for a long moment before his shoulders drop just slightly with a sigh. He rises from the pilot’s seat, making his way back into the back of the ship. You watch him go before turning back to the flashing blue of hyperspace with a victorious grin. At least you got him to rest.
****
The next planet you land on is hot. Dry air whips around you as soon as the ramp has lowered, the suns high in the sky.
“I hate this already.” Mayday says, voice crackling through his helmet.
“Let’s just hope they have air conditioning indoors.” You say, squinting in the bright light of the suns as you make your way towards the town. There’s not many out and about, and you can see why. The heat has beads of sweat trailing down your spine. You can only imagine how hot it is under that armor.
You find the nearest inn, and mercifully the air inside is cool. You brush the sweat from your forehead as you approach the front desk, getting hesitant looks again, no doubt thanks to the two clones behind you. They’ve taken off their helmets, likely to seem less threatening.
You get two rooms again, the boys heading off to one while you take the other. It’s a small room, but it’s got a real bed and a real ‘fresher so you can’t complain. It’s becoming routine, showering as soon as you get in before dropping onto the mattress to lay down and relax for a while.
You should think about food, but you can’t quite bring yourself to get up yet, enjoying the feeling of your body sinking into the mattress. It’s so nice after days on your ship, sleeping on hard mats in the bunks. You could get used to this, but that’s a dangerous thought process to have right now. The more you get used to it, the harder it’ll be to leave, the harder it’ll be to want to stay safe.
Safety is your main concern right now, and it needs to stay that way.
You sigh before rising from the bed, tucking your lightsaber into your bag again before exiting the room, knocking on the door across the hall to get the boys for second meal.
****
It’s not even dark yet when the knock sounds at the door. Your brows pull into a frown and you reach out in the Force, the frown falling at the familiar warm signature on the other side. You open the door, peeking out to find Mayday waiting there.
“Mayday?” You ask, opening the door a bit wider.
“He sent me over here.” He says. “Knew I’d be coming anyway.”
You nod slowly, opening the door wider to let him through. He steps into the room, heading for the bed. You close and lock the door behind him, ensuring it’s properly closed before turning back to him, joining him near the bed.
“I worry about him being alone.” You say, moving to the other side of the bed before sinking down onto the mattress.
“I think he prefers it.” Mayday says, starting to remove his armor. “He’s a solitary creature.”
“Still.” You frown, glancing towards the door. “I hate that he’s all by himself.”
“He’s doing it to himself.” Mayday says, sinking down on the other side of the bed. “It would be easier if he just gave in.”
“I know.” You sigh. “He won’t though. Not until he works through whatever it is going on in his head. I wish he’d share, but...he’s so closed off. I just want to help him.”
“He’ll warm up to you eventually.” Mayday says, sounding so sure of himself. “I’m just worried about what it might take to make that happen.”
“He warmed up to you, it sounds like.” You say, glancing at him.
“Yeah, after we almost died. Literally.” His brows furrow, that dark look coming back into his gaze.
You reach out to him, taking his hand, pulling him closer. He sprawls out on the bed, letting you maneuver him so his head is in your lap. “Don’t think about that.” You say, running your fingers over his face. “You’re still alive and breathing.”
“You remind me of that.” He says softly, his fingers brushing your cheek. “Every time I’m close to you I’m reminded of what you did for me.”
You smile softly, your thumb brushing his lips. “I’d do it again, too.”
He pushes himself up to sit, leaning his body over yours. You stare up at him, into those captivating brown eyes. He doesn’t ask this time as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, your hand lifting to cup the back of his head, fingers sinking into his hair. His beard tickles you as he kisses you deeply, tilting his head as he pushes you back against the pillows.
His body is warm as it presses into yours, your hands sliding down his neck to his broad shoulders. He continues to kiss you, his tongue pressing against your lips. You open to him, pulling him down closer against your body. His arms wrap around your waist, holding you as he kisses you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Your entire body is alive with energy, electricity flowing through your veins from how close he is to you. You’ve never felt quite so alive, quite so complete as you do right now. The hole in your chest has been filled by Mayday and his proximity, his touch, his kisses. He’s giving you what you’ve been yearning for since the day you saved him.
He pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours as he breathes deeply. You’re breathing heavily as well, breath stolen by his sweet kisses. “I don’t want to stop.” He breathes, breath brushing your face.
“Then don’t.” You say, opening your eyes to stare up at him.
He meets your gaze, something unspoken passing through the two of you. There’s a finality to what you’re about to do. There’s no going back once it’s been done, once that bond has been completely built. You’ll become one, never to be parted again.
You wouldn’t wish for anything else.
Mayday leans back down, pressing his lips to yours again. He shifts slightly as he kisses you deeply, his bare hand slipping under the hem of your thin tunic to press against the skin of your stomach. His hand is so warm, calloused from years of training and handling weapons.
His beard brushes your skin as his lips trail down your jaw, your head tilting back to give him space as he continues that path down to your neck. Your entire body is alive and sensitive to his touch, goosebumps forming on your skin. Your hand tangles in his hair as his hand slides higher, blazing a path up your side until he reaches your breastband. His fingers tease the edge of the fabric, dipping underneath for a moment.
You push on his shoulders, his entire body moving back as you sit up. You tug your tunic over your head, tossing it onto the floor. Goosebumps erupt across your skin as he stares at you, his eyes focused and assessing every inch of skin revealed to him, every mark and scar visible in the low lamp light. His hand lifts, fingers brushing a nasty looking mark on the side of your shoulder.
“Ventress.” You explain.
“You fought her?” He asks, eyes darting up to you as his fingers continue to brush the raised skin.
“We had run-ins a couple times.” You say, shrugging. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” His brow furrows as he stares at the mark, at what it means, what it could have meant. “Could have been worse.” You say, turning his face back to yours. “We all have our scars.”
He hums low in his chest, his hand sliding down your arm.
You let out a breath for a moment before lifting your hands to your breastband, pulling it up over your head. Your nipples pebble in the cool air of the room, your body suddenly very exposed to him. It feels strange, being so naked in front of someone after so long, but at the same time, it feels right that it’s him.
He stares at you hard, his gaze locked onto your bare breasts.
“You ever seen a pair of breasts before?” You ask, staring at him.
“Only in holofilms.” He says, still staring at your breasts. You raise a brow, his eyes darting to yours as he shrugs. “It was a long year on Barton IV.”
You chuckle, taking his hands in yours before lifting them to your breasts. “You can touch me, you know.”
His hands cup around your breasts, holding them like they’re precious gems. His gaze is still locked onto them, as if he’s trying to commit them to memory. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. All he has to do is ask now that this barrier has been knocked down. You certainly won’t say no. You like the way his hands hold you, the warmth of them, the way his calloused skin drags along your own soft, sensitive skin.
His thumbs brush your nipples, a quiet gasp leaving your lips. Electricity shoots directly between your legs from the stimulation. Mayday’s eyes dart to yours for a moment before he does it again, drawing another soft gasp from your lips. He leans down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. Your hand tangles in his hair as you arch in pleasure, his tongue circling the sensitive bud. He’s so sure of himself for a man who has likely never touched a woman before. Those must have been some holofilms he was watching.
He pushes you back against the pillows, shifting himself over you. You part your legs, allowing him between them where he comes to rest almost perfectly, like he was made to fit there. Well, in a way he was. You are perfect for each other, after all.
He pulls away from your breast to move to the other, giving it the same attention. Heat is pooling between your legs, your underwear starting to get wet just from his touch, just from having him so close. It feels so vulnerable, being so bare before him, but you wouldn’t trust anyone else, even in the short time you’ve known him.
He pulls away from your breast, tilting his head up to look at you. You run your fingers through his hair, his beard tickling the skin of your stomach as he starts to slide down further between your legs. He pushes himself up onto his knees, tugging the top of his blacks over his head, revealing his chest. You’re unafraid to stare at him, taking in the lean muscle, the soft tanned skin, the marks and scars from battle.
“You’re kriffing beautiful.” You say, unabashedly staring.
“Not as beautiful as you.” He says, leaning forward to kiss you again.
His body presses against yours, skin against skin. You feel alive where he’s touching you, sensitive and perceptive to every inch of him. You can feel him, hard in his blacks where he’s resting between your legs. Your own underwear is soaked already, just at the prospect of finally having him.
“I don’t know how much longer I can hold back.” He murmurs against your lips.
“Who said I wanted you to hold back?” You say, raising a brow at him as you pull away.
He stares down at you for a long moment before he sits himself back up on his knees, his hands falling to the waistband of your pants. They slip beneath the waistband, tugging them down, your hips lifting to give him space. He tosses your pants onto the floor with the rest of your clothes, his fingers hesitating for a moment around the waistband of your underwear. He’s staring at them, and for a moment you wish you could figure out what’s going on in his head.
Finally he slips his fingers under your underwear, pulling them down your legs as well before dropping them onto the floor. He sucks in a breath as he stares at you, bare and revealed before him. His hands part your thighs, pressing them into the mattress as he stares. You don’t mind his staring, despite the faint nervous flutter of your stomach from being so exposed to him. He doesn’t seem to mind either, his hands sliding down to your inner thighs.
“Kriffing beautiful.” He murmurs, sliding himself back before laying between your legs.
“Mayday…” you say, watching him as he leans forward, licking a stripe up your slit. “Oh,” your head falls back, your body relaxing as he repeats the motion.
His mouth closes around you, lips searching, seeking until they find what they’re looking for. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking hard. Your body jolts from the sudden pleasure, finally getting some relief from the ache that’s been steadily building there. Quiet moans leave your lips as he flicks your clit with his tongue, drawing patterns on it before wrapping his lips around it again.
You’re close already, the pleasure building and building. Your legs are shaking around his head, threatening to squeeze closed around it. You don’t want to suffocate him, but from the sound of it, he wouldn’t mind. He’s groaning against your pussy, beard scraping your thighs but you don’t care. You like the rough feeling of it, the drag of it against your sensitive skin.
Your entire body trembles as you come undone, back arching off the bed as he continues to suck your clit between his lips through your orgasm. Sparks erupt behind your eyes, the desire to be closer to him burning through you. It’s not enough. You need more. You need him wholly.
You have to push him away as overstimulation burns through you, his pupils wide as they stare up at you. “I need a break.” You pant, falling limp against the bed again. “Maker, how did you learn to do that?”
“Like I said, I watched a lot of holofilms.” He shrugs.
“I guess you did.” You grin, reaching out for him.
He slots himself between your thighs again, his lower half still closed. You can feel the press of his cock through the thick fabric of his blacks, dragging against your still soaked slit. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him, tasting yourself on his tongue. You moan against his lips as he grinds against you, pressing your bodies closer together.
“I need you,” he groans against your lips, nearly begging. He must be feeling the connection just as strongly as you are, that desire to be complete and whole.
“Then take me,” you say, pulling back to look up at him.
Something shines in his eyes as he pauses a moment, just staring at you. You stare back just as intently, feeling the warmth blossoming through him in the Force.
Love.
Your cheeks warm as he leans back onto his knees, sliding his blacks down his legs before kicking them off rather uncoordinated. He nearly topples over the edge of the bed in his haste, catching himself before he thuds to the floor. You can’t help but giggle at him, a grin forming on his face.
“Got me so excited I can hardly contain it.” He says, kneeling himself between your legs again. His cock is hard and standing at attention between his legs, thick and long. Your mouth waters at the sight of it and the prospect of how good it’s going to feel inside of you.
“Well, don’t hurt yourself.” You say, squeezing your thighs around your hips.
“I won’t.” He says softly, running his hands up your thighs. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Your face warms at his words, your hands lowering to his to squeeze them softly. He leans over you, one hand guiding his cock to your pussy. He drags it through your folds, gathering your slick before he presses it against you, slowly easing himself into you.
You moan at the stretch, at the feeling of him finally giving you what you need, what you’ve been desiring for days. That final barrier between you is coming down, the gap in your soul finally closing now that you are complete.
He slowly rocks his hips, easing himself into you. You’re moaning already, relaxing against the bed so he can sink in as deep as possible. It’s been so long, your body so sensitive already to him. He doesn’t stop until his hips are flush with yours, his body leaning down over yours. He sinks onto his elbows above you, pressing your bodies close together. You wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him.
“Feel so good,” he murmurs, lips brushing your cheek.
“I’ve never felt so complete before,” you breathe, pressing a kiss to his lips.
“Neither have I.” He says, shifting his body just slightly. It moves his cock inside of you, your legs tensing around his waist.
“I need you to move.” You say, squeezing around him.
He groans, shifting his hips again. “Yes, ma’am.”
You grin, holding onto him as he begins to move his hips, rocking slowly back and forth. You’re pressed so close together, bodies attempting to sink into each other, to become one being. You would if you could, sink into him until there was nothing left of your own form. You are one, though, one soul, one spirit. Even in the Force you can feel edges of yourself beginning to blend into him. You can feel him more strongly, fingertips alive with energy as you touch him. He’s almost glowing in the Force, vibrant and alive.
He continues to rock against you, thrusting into you harder and harder. You’re not sure how long you’ll last, not with the way he feels inside of you after all this time. That it took you this long is a miracle. Since you met your body has been calling out for him, any touch it can possibly get, with this being the desired result of such touches. Most didn’t wait as long as you did, but it had been necessary, given the situation.
He’s grunting and moaning into your ear, arms wrapped around you. It’s like a symphony of noises in the room, your own moans mixing with his, the slap of skin against skin, the wet squelch of your pussy. Obscene, but you’ve never been more aroused before. You give little thought to the poor people in the rooms around you and just how much they can hear. This is just about you and Mayday right now.
“Feel so good,” he groans, pressing his face into your neck. “I’m so close.”
“Me too,” you breathe, that edge of pleasure getting closer and closer with every press of his hips against you.
He shifts slightly, angling his hips upward. The tip of his cock brushes that spot inside of you, your entire body shuddering at the sudden onslaught of pleasure. Your moans get louder, your body clinging tighter to Mayday.
“Just like that,” you gasp. “Don’t stop!”
He continues to thrust into you at that angle, his hips nearly brutal in their movements. He’s chasing that high as desperately as you are, needing to feel you cum around him. You’re so close, that edge rapidly approaching with every press of his hips.
Your orgasm slams into you, your body writhing against his at the sudden onslaught of pleasure. You squeeze around him, his own hips jerking as you milk his orgasm out of him. He spills into you, his body tensing for just a moment before he goes lax against you, pinning you down against the bed.
The two of you just lay there for a long moment, breathing heavily, still trembling from your orgasms. You could lay like this for the rest of the night, filled by him, whole and together.
“I could stay like this forever.” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw.
“Me too,” you say, kissing his shoulder. “I’ve never felt so alive.”
It’s true. Despite the exhaustion, you’ve never felt more complete, more whole, more alive than you do right now. Every inch of your body is aware of Mayday, of his own body, his own existence. One of the gaping holes in your soul has been filled, completed, sealed shut forever. There’s still the other hole, wide and open and unfulfilled, but you’ll get there. It’ll close eventually. You have faith it will.
Slowly Mayday begins to move, lifting himself up off of you. Your body groans as he slips out of you, both from the loss of him and from the soreness no doubt you’ll feel tomorrow. Mayday heads for the ‘fresher, grabbing a damp towel to clean you up, wiping his seed from between your thighs. It’s touching, that he thought to do that. You wouldn’t have cared, tired enough to leave it a problem for tomorrow.
Mayday joins you back in bed, crawling under the covers with you. He pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arm around you. You’re both sweaty but you don’t care, having crossed that bridge of being disgusted by body fluids. You’ve had him inside of you. That feeling is long gone.
“I love you,” he murmurs softly, his presence in the Force alive with warmth and affection.
It brings a smile to your face, your body relaxing into that feeling. “I love you too.”
Your eyes drift closed and for the first time in a while, you drift off into a peaceful sleep.
****
A knock at the door is what wakes you, your head jerking up. Mayday is already awake, wrapped around your body from behind. He rubs his face, sucking in a deep breath. You wipe your own eyes, groggy and feeling like you slept too long. You might have.
It’s Crosshair at the door, Mayday pulling on his blacks before answering. You’ll have to get up, freshen yourself up. A shower would be nice, but you’re not sure Crosshair would be that patient. He’s probably given you more time than he should have.
You pull on your clothes before heading to the ‘fresher to freshen up just a bit. Mayday has his armor on when you leave the ‘fresher, helmet in hand. You grab your bag, double checking your saber is in its pocket before you step out the door, meeting Crosshair in the hallway. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a look on his face you’ve never seen before. His presence in the Force is twisted, just as sharp as it usually is.
You try to ignore it as Mayday takes your hand, the three of you making your way out of the inn to find somewhere to have first meal before you leave the planet.
You find an open cantina, sitting down to eat quickly. You want to be off the planet before the day heats up again. You could go your entire life without feeling heat like that again.
The three of you make your way towards the ship after eating, you and Mayday walking hand in hand while Crosshair picks up the rear, something that’s become a normal formation for the three of you.
As you approach the ship, Crosshair starts to slow before he comes to a stop.
You turn to look back at him, brows furrowed. “Crosshair?” You ask softly, his gaze on the ground, brows pulled in a frown. You step closer to him, worry starting to fill you. “What is it?”
He’s staring intently on a spot in the dirt, fingers tensed around his helmet that’s tucked under his arm. “I want to do it.” He says softly, so low you almost don’t hear him.
You take another step closer, head tilted. “Do what?”
“I want to find them.” He lifts his gaze to yours, shoulders set. “My old squad. I want to find them.”
May I request a NSFW prompt 30: come closer and keep me warm or something like with F! Reader x Mayday, please?
He needs more love!
Warmth in the Night*** 🌊
🫧 pairings: Commander Mayday X Female!Reader
word count: 1.9k
prompts:
• “Come here and keep me warm.”
plot: Trapped with nothing but a lousy flickering fusion lantern to keep you both warm, yourself and Mayday decide to take advantage of this time alone.
warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Established relationship, cuddling (amongst other things) for warmth, kissing, consensual sex, p in v sex, cock warming, dirty talk, explicit sexual content language, praising, fingering, trapped in a snow storm.
authors note: im so sorry for the wait @ladypunz and I apologise it’s short! But you’re right, he does deserve some love!
“Do you think it’ll hold?” you ask, your voice trembling as much from the cold as the worry gnawing at you. Together, yourself and Mayday had managed to barricade the rickety door of the abandoned shack you’d stumbled upon, but the raging blizzard outside wasn’t letting up.
Mayday steps back, eyeing the door with his hands on his hips. “Should do,” he says, his tone calm but a little cautious. “And if not… well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
You try to laugh, but the bitter cold seeps into every part of you, stealing the sound before it can form. Stars, the bitter breeze stabs at your skin like little needles.
Pushing aside your discomfort, you move to help him gather whatever scraps of blankets and fabric you can find and then drape them around a fusion lantern. It was the only thing providing little warm but its light flickers weakly, threatening to go out at any moment. The thought of it completely shutting down makes you nervous which doesn’t go unnoticed by Mayday.
Setting his helmet on a cracked, uneven table, he steps closer, his gloved hand brushing against your frosty cheek. His touch was warm despite the frigid air.
“Don’t worry,” he says, his voice steady and reassuring. “We’ll get through this. We’ll rest tonight, and by morning, the storm will have passed. Then we’ll make our way to the rendezvous point.”
You lean into his touch, seeking out the comfort it offers, and before you know it, your arms are around his waist, clinging to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you knitted to warmth and safety. “At least I’m with you,” you say softly.
His lips curve into a fond smile as he wraps his arms around you, his hands rubbing gently up and down your back in an effort to warm you. “Likewise.”
You were both meant to be delivering supplies to an outpost but were caught off guard by the sudden storm and luckily, you and Mayday had been together for a while now. He liked to tease that you fell for him first, and while that wasn’t entirely untrue, it didn’t mean he didn’t fall harder. He was everything you wanted in a relationship and you were glad he was so calm in a rather precarious situation.
“How are we on rations?” you ask after a moment, sitting down on the pile of tattered blankets whilst he pushes a broken table against the door just for a little extra reinforcement.
He grabs his pack, rummages around, and pulls out two ration bars, offering a wry smile as he hands you one. “At least it’s the flavor you like.”
“Lucky me,” you mutter with a half-smile, taking the bar and nibbling on it. If you were going to be stuck here, you wanted it to last.
Once the makeshift barricades are as secure as they’ll get, Mayday settles in beside you, the two of you huddling under the pile of blankets. The only light comes from the pathetic sputtering lantern, and the majority of warmth from each other. Despite your best efforts, your teeth chatter relentlessly.
Mayday drapes an arm over you, pulling you closer until your back is tucked against his chest. “Come here,” he says, his voice low and soft. “Keep me warm.”
You don’t hesitate, nestling into him, your head resting in the crook of his neck and shoulder. His warmth envelops you, a small reprieve from the biting cold.
“That’s better, isn’t it?” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to the back of your head.
“A little bit,” you admit, your breath shaky, though you can’t deny how much this was helping.
Night falls swiftly, the wind still screaming against your shelter. “I hope this storm ends soon,” you whisper, your voice barely audible above the howl of the wind.
“Me too,” Mayday replies, his arms tightening around you. “But at least the company’s good, right?”
You smile despite everything, catching the teasing lilt in his voice. “It’s perfect,”
“You know,” Mayday murmurs, his voice low and teasing as his fingers trace gentle patterns across your stomach, “it’s been a while since we’ve had some time alone.”
Your eyes, which had been closed in contentment, flutter open. A playful smirk spreads across your lips as you tilt your head just enough to meet his gaze. “You’re right,” you say softly, your voice holding a hint of mischief. “It has been a while.”
Mayday’s answering smirk is wicked, a flicker of heat sparking in his inviting eyes. He leans down, capturing your lips with his, the kiss starting soft but quickly deepening into something more needy.
A gasp escapes you as his hand tangles in your hair, pulling you closer. You turn fully to face him, your fingers threading through the textured strands of his long hair, tugging gently. The sensation draws a low groan from his throat, his lips parting against yours as your tongue slips into his mouth.
The kiss turns hungrier, more demanding, as his hands begin to wander. One gloved hand peels away, and when his now-bare palm glides over your skin, the chill of his touch makes you gasp again.
His lips curve into a smirk against yours, and his free hand slips lower, exploring with deliberate slowness until it finds the waistband of your pants. He pauses for just a moment, enough to let anticipation coil tightly in your chest, before sliding his hand inside.
You tremble under his touch, his fingers brushing against your folds. The coldness of his skin sends shivers across your body, but it only heightens the heat rapidly building between you.
“Already wet for me?” he murmurs darkly, his lips brushing against yours. His thumb circles your clit with an intense and measured pace, and he bites down lightly on your lower lip. “You needy girl.”
A whimper escapes you, your body arching into his hand as waves of pleasure roll through you. “C-can’t help it,” you stammer, your voice breathless. “You’ve been neglecting me.”
A low groan rumbles deep in his chest, his mouth moving to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His breath is warm against you, a stark contrast to the icy air around you.
“Let me fix that.”
His fingers move with purpose now, sliding against you with expert precision. Every flick of his thumb, every stroke of his hand, draws soft gasps and moans from your lips. The storm outside is forgotten, the cold replaced by the searing heat of his touch.
“Mayday, shit… don’t stop,” you plead, your voice trembling as you clutch his shoulders, your fingers digging into the fabric of his under-armor.
He grins, a low, knowing chuckle rumbling in his chest as he tugs your pants down just enough to give his hand the space it needs. His fingers slide against you, then press inside, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. The sound makes his grin widen. “You feel so pretty,” he murmurs, his voice rough and reverent. “So perfect.”
Your hips buck instinctively against his hand, desperate for more. A string of curses falls from your lips as he adds another finger, spreading you open with a skilled, deliberate rhythm. His lips find your neck again, trailing hot, searing kisses along your skin that make you shudder beneath him.
“Stars, I’m g-gonna—” you stammer, the words caught in your throat as the pressure inside you builds to a dizzying peak after a measly few minutes.
“Yes, you are,” he growls, his voice laced with hungry satisfaction. His lips leave your neck, his gaze locking onto yours as he watches you unravel. Your eyes roll back, your body arching as pleasure crashes over you in an uncontrollable wave.
You come undone, trembling and gasping his name like a prayer. “Yes, you fucking are,” he says, his voice thick with pride, his fingers slowing but never stopping, coaxing every last ounce of bliss from you.
Stars blurred your vision, your body trembling as waves of you come down from your high. You felt drunk on his touch, the aftershocks of your climax leaving you breathless and spent. Sweat glistened on your brow, your legs shaking as you tried to steady yourself.
“That’s it,” Mayday murmured in your ear, his voice low and soothing. He withdrew his fingers carefully, his touch lingering for just a moment before he lifted his hand into the faint glow of the lantern. Slick with your arousal, his fingers shimmered in the dim light.
You closed your eyes briefly, letting the moment sink in, before looking up at him with a lazy, somewhat goofy smile. “I think it’s only fair if I return the favour.”
His lips form into a smirk, and without hesitation, he leaned down to kiss you, his mouth claiming yours with renewed desperation. As his tongue brushed against yours, your hands found their way to the waistband of his pants, fumbling with the latch. Mayday chuckled against your lips, helping you shove them down before kicking them off entirely.
Your breath hitched as his cock sprang free, thick and swollen with need. He gripped it lightly, stroking himself with deliberate slowness.
A soft moan escaped your lips at the sight, and an idea formed in your mind. You slipped your pants completely off and shifted closer, your hand wrapping around his length. He gasped at the initial contact, your touch cold against his heated skin, but the sound quickly melted into a groan as you aligned him with your entrance.
With a gentle roll of your hips, you guided him inside, both of you sighing as he stretched you open and settled deep within. His forehead dropped against your shoulder, and he let out a sinful groan, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he buried his face in your chest.
“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he rasped needily, “You feel amazing.”
You bit your lip, your walls fluttering around him, clinging to every inch of him as he throbbed inside you. A teasing smile played on your lips as you whispered, “You like this, Commander? You like being in my pussy?”
“I love it,” he groaned, his voice muffled against your skin and knowing full well that you calling him Commander gets him all hot and bothered. One of your hands tangled in his hair, holding him close as you shifted your hips experimentally.
But before you could start moving in earnest, his grip on you tightened. “Stop. Stop,” he panted, his tone commanding yet soft.
You froze, concern flickering in your eyes. “Is everything okay?”
“Don’t move,” he said, his voice ragged. Pulling back slightly, he cupped your face with both hands, his gaze locking with yours. “You’re keeping my cock so nice and warm.”
It took a moment for his words to register, but then a playful smile tugged at your lips. “Using me as a cockwarmer, are you?”
“Yes, baby,” he murmured, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips. “You’re so damn warm, and it feels so good. Just… let me stay like this for a while.”
Your smile softened, and you leaned into him, brushing your lips against his once more. “Anything you want.”
Settling against his chest, you let your body relax, your arms wrapping around him as his cock remained snugly sheathed inside you. He pulled the covers over the two of you, cocooning you both in warmth.
The storm outside howled, but for the first time in hours, you felt nothing but comfort. You didn’t know how long this moment would last, but for now, you hoped the storm wouldn’t let up anytime soon…
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✧ Summary: Mayday always keeps a close eye on you since your health begins to deteriorate. And for the sake of all of you, you go off suggesting an escape plan off the planet.
✧ Tags & Warnings: light angst, established secret relationship, reader suffers from pneumonia (+ inaccuracies), bunch of author's headcanons, some fluff at the end, Mayday is an introvert sue me
✧ Word Count: 3.2k
✧ A/N: Honestly this turned from soft fluff light angst thing to a straight up rebel behavior 😭😂 anyway stay safe out there and enjoy Mayday on this one, vode! 🥶
Main Masterlist | Read on AO3 | dividers by me
Barton IV could've been a planet with summer or spring all year around but the galaxy planned a whole different thing for the frigid rock. Instead of blessing the edge of the galaxy with a miraculous planet of warmth and sunshine, it popped out an easily-loathed rock with harsh, eternal winter. For anyone; it's the last place one should be if breathing and moving freely are still deemed valuable.
It's not common knowledge—even to the middle ranks of the Empire's officers—that they do have a supply depot at the very edge of the galaxy. On the furthest planet from the star in the solar system, the blasted compound slowly decays, yielding to time and climate, and eventually to Imperial priority upon Imperial priority. Barely operational. Barely livable. Mayday can't remember the last time he hit the freshers. Hot water system got fried sometime ago last month.
He wonders if this punishment is worth it. He wonders if this is worth everything at all.
It was one fatal mistake that led to commanding power demotion. He had a varping battalion, dammit. Then that happened and they demoted him to over a platoon? Role model clone commanding officer, his arse. The title commander feels sickening to his tongue, like swallowing tar and expired tomato sauce.
And that's not even the worst thing—competitively, at least. That, and got catapulted to the edge of the galaxy to man a supply kriffing depot. Brought his platoon with him. Still a commander. Reg platoons aren't exactly equipped to withstand Barton IV climate. Reg platoon reduced to a squad, a squad to barely half a squad.
All that shame.
Still a commander.
Barely respect left. Hexx and Veetch are all he's got. He knows them way back—when they were still shinies, even. Force be damned—that was barely four years ago. And look at what he's got now. He feels sorry for them.
Then out of nowhere the Empire sent a supervising officer. You, a lieutenant. Despite the badge that you wear without a single ounce of pride, a mark of shame carved to your features that reminded him of his own when he first arrived at this damned ice cube planet.
Functionally, you're below him. Commander over lieutenant—it’s always like that. But; 1) you're a natborn, 2) you're an Imperial puppet who was given no other choice but to begrudgingly follow the new regime, and 3) he's not actually a commander commander.
That makes you his boss.
It's strange, but whatever. He's used to a Jedi General or an Admiral, but you're a refreshing sight.
Mayday learned about your case sooner than he liked—the reasons why you were ashamed upon arrival. You share his fate, too. Apparently you were conspiring against a top superior, and nothing else has ever amazed him since the moment he stepped foot on Barton IV that that one particularly did.
Conclusions were drawn quicker before a doubt could form; you’re a rebellious soul yourself—only much stronger than him. You were one step away to rebel against the system. That earned you much respect for one single day. Even Veetch started to offer his annual stash of spiced hot cocoa to you.
You're a good officer, honestly. But the poor environment stowed whatever spirits you have left to actually run the place and do your job until your punishment's over—or was it a temporary exile? The cold bit into you long ago, your body refuses to last in harsher nights. With your allergies, your health deteriorated, the officer's mess became a lair of bacteria to grow from how damp it is and it worsened your cold symptoms.
From the start, the Empire has intended to give you a chance to reflect on your wrongs by quite physically torturing you, after all.
Mayday has just returned from spot-checking the sensor beacons when he saunters into the main control building, relishing the slight increase of temperature now that he's no longer exposed to the cold air of the mountains. Eager to sit down and gather, his helmet is already off by the time he approaches the small circle of two other clones and a single Imp officer around the portable heater.
Their buckets off as well, Hexx and Veetch are thumb-wrestling (not a strange sight) each other for the past ten minutes. You’re hunched over with every piece of fabric they'd found, wearing thick layers and grinning every now and then at the brothers’ competitive game. It's apparently quite an entertainment—something to smile about in the dead quiet, of course save for the howling wind outside.
Mayday settles beside you, keeping a respectful distance in the presence of others. Because certainly, not long ago, with no one else to be company… something would happen. Happened. Something that sparks two lonely hearts to life. Something born out of anticipating stares—sometimes intense and the other times light. Something that cures longing—although longing for what exactly, that remains a question. But as they say, desperate times…
Hexx and Veetch would probably know already. There are only four of them here, after all. But if they do, they haven't said anything. No teasing glances, despite the breached barrier of formality and evident ease among the four of you.
Mayday can hear the way you breathe. It has to be painful. You're practically wheezing, whatever's left of your immune system has been trying to fight off the pneumonia. It's only a matter of time you'd catch a high fever and you need to be shipped off planet ASAP. You obviously need help, but at these times, who's listening?
“How're you feeling?” he asks then, garnering your attention from the ongoing thumb war match.
“Still waiting for a miracle,” you shrug, even smiling jokingly to make light of the situation. Mayday shakes his head at you.
“So not getting any better.”
“No,” you scoff.
He shares your sentiment, even scoffing to match your sarcasm. He restrains himself from laying his hand on your back to rub some heat into you. “Med’s almost ran out, if I'm not mistaken.”
“Yeah,” you agree glumly. “But I could always hijack the supplies if it means staying alive. I'm not dying on this rock, Mayday.”
He sighs. “Makes two of us.” Definitely not agreeing about the future supply theft, but it's enough to make him jealous of your authority. Illegal, yeah, but the Empire wouldn't probably even care if you succumb to your sickness anyway. You're just an underling and a pawn inside a greater scheme. Replaceable.
But it's not rare either for you all to huddle together for heat when the planet hurls a violent blizzard at them. You of course need more heat, and while clones could provide with their enhanced metabolism and squat, you feel like you're about to fly off the surface of the planet and let the varping pneumonia kill you. Turns out the worst way to go is by deliberately not given access to proper healthcare.
“But I put in a transport request,” you suddenly chirp, tone light yet groggy from all the mucus in your respiratory system.
Mayday didn't know that. “You did? When?”
You shrug. “Yesterday, when I felt like passing out.” He remembers that alright. You retreated to the warmest nook in the building before he could catch up. “Took a holo, both still and video log. I looked like wet, bleached pile of bantha poodoo from how pale and sickly I am.” Mayday grimaces and before he goes to protest, mischief sparks in your eyes for a moment as you turn for the other troopers. “Oi, boys—do I look pale and sickly like a miserably wet, bleached pile of bantha poodoo?”
They pause, Hexx using the opportunity to beat the heck out of Veetch’s thumb. Completely ignoring his own defeat; ever the more expressive one out of the two, Veetch responds first with a grimace similar to anyone ever who'd hear that. “...What?”
You roll your eyes. “I said—”
Hexx interrupts, “Pale and sickly like a miserably wet—”
“Okay, enough,” Mayday half-laughs, stopping himself before getting carried away. He acknowledges your aforementioned initiative. “It's good you did that. You need emergency medical attention.”
“Yeah,” Hexx says, listening along after all. “We don't wanna be blamed for an untimely death of a supervising officer on duty.”
“On punishment,” you correct, chuckling at his joke.
“Any response yet?” Veetch asks you.
“Not yet, sadly.”
“Man,” he groans. Then his posture stills, shifting to a serious mode all of a sudden. “Know what, if they really do come here to pick you up, the second they touch down I'm emptying my mag.”
“Easy,” Mayday cuts in. “Good luck shooting through a Nu-class, though.”
“I'll pass along the good word for effort,” you play along, muffling your laugh into your palm while fighting not to cough up more mucus.
Veetch stares at you in disbelief, his mouth gaped open. “Seriously? Just a good word?”
“Or what, you want an A on your sheet? Extra credit for your pathetic C-minus written with big bold red letters?”
“Honestly don't know what you're talking about, sir.”
You bark a laugh, but the notion causes you to turn away and hack your lungs out. Mayday hurries to your side, ignoring the warning alarms blaring inside his head when he rubs your back as you're hunched over. He can feel your body trembling under his touch. You cough violently, feeling like you're about to snort oggdo bogdo babies out of your nostrils.
The exiled commander sighs. “That's it, men. No more jokes.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” both troopers respond, apologetically. An unmistakable regret shoots across Veetch's expression. “Really sorry, Lieutenant.”
You raise a hand. “S’fine,” you drawl hushedly, wheezing as you reach for your water bottle next to you. “Need a good laugh every now and then.”
“Why don't we keep it all down?” Mayday suggests, kindly yet authoritatively. “Needn’t remind myself and you two again that we're not entirely immune to illness, much less pneumonia. And that it's been months since our last routine shots.”
“Makes me miss it,” Hexx mourns. “Healthcare in general. And of course, warmer climate.”
Mayday scoffs, but it's only to hide how physically painful it is that it's tweaking his conscience. “Damn right.”
“But you know what.” You place your water bottle aside after sipping some off of it. “Veetch pitched an excellent idea.”
“Uh, yeah?” Veetch is at a loss. “What idea?”
“Storming towards my pickup transport blaster first head second. That, but let's put more strategy to it feasible enough for four men to execute preferably without failin—”
“Whoa, hang on,” Mayday grabs your elbow warningly, prohibited physical contact agreement be damned. You look too high on your flu symptoms to notice. “If you don't mind going over that again with more sense and consideration—”
“What?” you challenge, completely lacking hostility and ending up drawling. “You saying you don't wanna get off this ball of shaved ice you call a planet?”
The three clones freeze (ha).
“We… want nothing more, honestly,” Veetch speaks up first, quite nervously, and apparently not accustomed to the idea. Yet. “We’re stationed here. It’s just that—”
“You've never had the chance,” you supply.
“...Yeah.”
“Well here's now and now's here,” you assert. Mayday awaits for what you might say next with a stupid amount of anticipation. Problem is he knows what you're insinuating, but he can't be sure yet. He's not up there with you, so to say. “And they’re gonna come for me.”
Hexx blinks. “With all due respect, sir, that's an oddly high level of certainty.”
“Because my boss is my own cousin and his name is Orson varping Krennic, that's why.”
“Right,” Hexx says as calmly as possible, as if not just learned the fact.
“I need to hear it from you clearly,” Mayday steals your focus, even grabbing your arm to convey his seriousness. “What are you suggesting?”
You meet his gaze, unwavering. “As little hard contact as possible so we could take the ship and bail.” Hit hyperspace. Scramble ship's signature. Basic drill of hijacking a ship. “I could take us somewhere safe to lay low.”
Hexx and Veetch share a look with each other—and by the looks of it, they're barely contemplating and a breath away from saying yeah alright we're in. Probably not even looking for their commander's approval. This is their free will speaking. Mayday throws his gaze to the durasteel flooring, the very ground that holds against every kind of crap this planet has thrown at. He's a little jealous. He can't even believe he's jealous towards a steel material.
He'd be willing to take that risk if only they're at an advantage, strategically. If your request is approved and you're flown out of here, they would send a transport vessel with medical personnel, and there won't be many troopers to deal with. Escorts won't be much, probably half a squad. Two pilots. Imp medics are no fighters, but they'd slow them down alright. Ten against four? His gut is saying that there are indeed battles won with fewer numbers, but realistically speaking?
With the chill that bites and an armor that’s not made to endure frigid climate, it even physically screws him over to stew in agreeing to commit mutiny and eventually becoming fugitives of the Empire.
Mayday stands, huffing in relief for movement and warmth slowly seeping back into his joints.
“I'll get you some more water,” he says to you, sweeping your water bottle up before you could ask nor protest, and marching away to one of the rooms where they store personal supplies.
For a moment, as he fills your bottle, his thoughts clear up. No longer muddled, they even link up and chain together several possible outcomes and gameplays if they would be pulling that gig off. Three 89% on-form men and one other who can't even run half a yard without wheezing and collapsing.
“May.”
You saunter into the room, your pace slow and careful to approach him, and then there's also your illness. You clutch your shawl and makeshift cardigan close. The door shuts quietly behind you, and the emergency light blinks, casting an orange glow in the dark. Lights were busted some time ago, but no problem—all you need is to stick your hand in an open crate and you'd get either a ration bar or canned stuff.
“It's not impossible, you know.” Mayday screws the cap of your water bottle close once he fills it full to the brim, and places it on top of a crate. He turns to face you, standing a distance away, and crosses his arms as he leans back against the same crate. “Attacking your pickup transport and taking over. All we need is a working comm and a good stealth strategy.”
“Which we have, right?” You rub your hands together, confidence slipping into your voice and Mayday could swear he catches a hint of a smirk on your lips. “You’re cooking up something in there, I just know.”
“Well, we all wanna survive off this gig.” Mayday fishes inside one of the open crates next to him. He grabs a can and pops it open. He drinks, and the taste of cheap canned ale floods his tongue. Just the warmth he's been looking for.
You nod. “Great, so um, so we can do it?”
“We can.” He passes you one of his sharp looks, some sort of a warning and asking for your promise that you'll stay as far away from the line of fire.
Mayday's sharp features glow under the orange light, even his dark beard. You hold a lengthy studying gaze at him, your feet taking one step forward. “But back there you just seemed… off.”
“Just needed some space to think.”
“Right, of course.”
“And I just don't want you to get more hurt, that's all. You're already weakened in that state.”
You're fierce. You always are. Behind your blunt professionalism facade there is a soul who wouldn't give up trying for the sake of survival, the one that he already unearthed. The rancor is done getting poked at. But this time; a bleeding rancor who wouldn't make it that far if not careful. You've lost. You've surrendered. Spirit and passion have no longer been on your side for a while, only your sick complexion and coughs that are even painful to hear, and more to be let out.
“Okay,” you concede, where you usually would bite more. “I'm following your lead.”
“It's risky,” Mayday explains, to provide you more clarity in hopes to make sure you've totally 100% understood the decision. “Every bit of it, down to the smallest thing. We're outnumbered, and I don't want to worry about you while I work the field.”
You give a silent nod, a sign that you'll oblige. Mayday takes another long sip off his canned carbonated ale, appreciating the burn on his tongue and throat with a small grunt. He passes you your water bottle. “Here. Hydrate some more.”
You cross the invisible barrier between you when Mayday makes no movement to approach you, just letting you come and close the distance. But as soon as your fingers grip around your bottle, you step into his space and find home in his embrace, the cold surface of his plastoid armor the most luxurious comfort you could've ever gotten.
“It'll be fine.” Mayday has his arms around you, strong and secure, tugging you as close as possible without breathing your air and risk infection. “We'll pull through. Together.”
“I'm not gonna forgive myself if we all fail.” You would let the guilt eat you alive, even.
The commander sighs quietly. He rubs your back to provide you more comfort that you need. “We won't. Me and the boys still got some juice left to fight.”
“That's good. And... Yeah, I don't…” you sniffle. “I don't like to think that the Empire has been kind to you. Nor to your men… all for them… either.”
Clones. Unappreciated, unsung heroes of the war that has gone to pass, whose stories are never told twice.
For once, Mayday doesn't know what to say. He hasn't been exposed to this great deal of sympathy before. “...Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” His heart goes quiet in his ears as he feels your fingers tracing patterns in the exposed spot on his shoulder. “You've done a lot more than a single thanks, too. I'm sorry.”
Then he doesn't know what to say again. Twice today. He's just there, enjoying the rare moment where you both could be close like this, tugging you close to his body and his warmth as a silent declaration that he'll stay with you no matter what, watching your back.
“This lay-low place,” he asks then, eager for a change of topic. “Where's that?”
“Ah. Somewhere warmer, that's for sure.”
Chuckling, Mayday feels his anticipation also burning up. “Thank Prime,” he huffs. “Okay. Somewhere, like?”
“Like Teth.”
He frowns skeptically at your quick answer. “Yeah? What's on Teth?”
You hum once, quite casually. If he doesn't know any better, he's pretty damn sure you're either smiling or having something else in mind. Something with purpose.
“Trees, sun, ruins—places where you won't freeze your arses off.” You let out an airy chuckle. Mayday follows the trail of your quiet laugh with his own. “Where there's something much, much better to fight for.”
Thanks for reading! Taglist is moved to event masterlist.
A/N: You can request for x reader in my askbox! If you're interested in my clone x reader oneshots you can sign up as well to be tagged of future works. (Link provided ⬆️)
Summary: Mayday remembers the moment he realized he loved you.
Pairing: Mayday x gn!reader
Content/Warnings: reader uses they/them with no physical description other than having enough hair to fist; it starts to get steamy at one point but we cut away before anything happens; whump by the end (I'm sorry in advance).
Word count: 1,042
A/N: it's been a LONG time since I've written anything at all, and my first time writing for Star Wars, but I love Mayday dearly and wanted to finally make this happen. The title is also a song of the same name by We Were Promised Jetpacks and loosely inspired this lil oneshot. Thank you for reading, and here we go!
The first time Mayday realizes he loves you, it's unexpected and takes him by surprise.
He can feel the gentle brush of your breath against his face as he tries to sleep, but keeps his eyes closed anyway.
“Mayday,” you whisper softly to him. “I can tell you're awake and not really sleeping anymore.”
Slowly, a smile spreads across Mayday's face as his eyes flutter open. You're already smiling warmly down at him as he takes in your expression: it's full of love and compassion he never thought he'd live long enough to see directed at him. You scoot closer to him and gently caress his scruffy cheek, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss to his forehead. Reacting on instinct, Mayday snakes his arms around your waist to pull you even closer to him.
“What time is it?” He croaks, voice still heavy with sleep as you pull back to look at him. “It feels too early for either of us to be awake.”
You let out a small laugh, the soft noise bringing another smile to Mayday's face. “It is still pretty early, but the sun is coming out so maybe it's time to start our day?”
Letting out a short groan, he pulls you flush against him and buries his face in the crook of your neck. “Or we could enjoy this rare moment of no pressing obligations to drift back to sleep,” he suggests, his voice muffled against your skin. You can't help but giggle as his scruff tickles you when he speaks.
“Mayday, are you really determined to grow this beard out?” You ask, running your hand across his cheek again.
He chuckles as he pulls back from your neck, the motion tickling you yet again. “What, you don't think I can pull off the beard?”
Rather than respond right away, you keep your hand on his cheek and close the distance between you to press a kiss against his lips. He hums approvingly, slightly tightening his grip around your waist as he attempts to deepen the kiss, but you pull back before he can.
“You are the most handsome man I've ever known; so beard or no beard, I'll like it” you whisper to him with another quick kiss. “And I'll always want you, no matter what.”
Mayday's gaze drifts from your eyes down to your mouth as you finish your sentence, and in that split second he feels desire begin to pool within him. In that moment, though, it feels different. There's a swell of new but deep emotion along with his desire for you, and panic briefly flares in him as he tries to understand this feeling.
He had never had a serious, committed relationship before he'd found you, and even after the two of you started dating, he held back. Being a clone meant his list of experiences were going to be different than that of a nat-born, and the majority of those experiences would likely be brief and fleeting even outside of intimate relationships. So, naturally, Mayday was a bit scared at first. But over the months you'd only proved your commitment and dedication to him, never pushing or pressuring him to be in something he didn't want. And, of course, it all paid off.
Because here you were now, wrapped up in his embrace, looking at him like nothing else mattered or existed outside the two of you. All at once, this new emotion clicks into place for him, and with it a broad grin splits Mayday's face.
“I love you,” he says softly, his voice full of conviction. A gasp leaves your lips as your eyes search his face, and a slow smile spreads across your face now as well.
“Oh, Mayday. I love you too, forever,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his mouth again.
The kiss quickly deepens and intensifies from there, and the two of you shed what little clothes you wore as quickly as possible to feel the relief of skin against skin. He fisted one hand in your hair as the other roamed along your naked form, eagerly swallowing your moans as he slid his tongue against yours. You, in turn, ran your fingers through his hair, tugging on the short strands just to hear him moan back into your mouth.
“Say it again,” Mayday muttered against your lips. “Tell me you love me.”
“I love you, Mayday,” you sigh. “I will never stop loving you.”
~~~
Was that a dream I once had? Mayday thinks to himself. Is this a dream I'm having? Or, perhaps, calling it a waking nightmare would be more fitting.
He's not sure how long they've been walking, but all Mayday knows is that he and Crosshair have been trekking through the snowstorm all night. Crosshair, who just the day before said that he wouldn't want to carry dead weight, now fully supports Mayday's slowly dying weight. Crosshair, who would have been perfectly safe had he abandoned Mayday after the avalanche, has stayed with him and kept him conscious when Mayday felt reality slipping around him. And now, Crosshair is his last chance to somehow get word back to you about his fate.
Mayday doesn't want to leave you, never wanted to leave you in the first place, all those months ago when he was first told to report to Barton IV. But he was a good soldier and he followed orders, only now he knows he won't be able to follow your order to come back home to you.
Home, Mayday thinks, struggling to try and picture you on the couch in your apartment. Or maybe you're at work right now, staying focused and diligent until the moment you can hold him in your arms again. Forgive me, my love, but the last time you held me will have to be enough for you now.
“Crosshair,” Mayday manages to croak out. “I need you to find my partner–” he pauses to take in a painful breath before continuing. “Tell them…tell them I love them, and that I'm sorry.”
Whatever Crosshair responds with is lost on Mayday, as his mind slips again and he spends the last few hours of his life remembering all the happy memories he had with you.
Summary: This is Mayday's first Life Day, and you're determined to show him and his brothers a feast they won't forget.
Characters: Commander Mayday, Veetch, Hexx
Pairing: Commander Mayday x Reader
"You know you don't have to do this, right?" Mayday asked, as he took in the chaos that was being unleashed into the kitchen.
"I know! I know! But these are your brothers, and it's the first time that you've experienced Life Day. It needs to be perfect!" you insisted, already pulling the Nabooian fish out of the packaging and glancing at the instructions for the rub that you were going to use on it.
Mayday shook his head, knowing it was pointless arguing with you. So if he couldn't persuade you to relax a little, he was going to join you. Rolling up his sleeves, he stepped away from the doorframe and into the kitchen. "So, where do you want me?" he volunteered, amused at the way your head whipped around in surprise at him.
"Oh no May, you don't have to do that. This is for you to enjoy, it's not fair that you'd have to cook as well" you denied, chest fluttering at his offer. But this was his first Life Day, you wanted him to enjoy it and experience it.
"Aren't you going to enjoy it?" Mayday frowned, taking the bowl from the side and looking over the recipe for the rub.
"Yeah, of course! But-" you nodded, brow furrowing at his question.
"Well then, it's not fair on you either. We're partners, cyare. We'll do this together" Mayday stated firmly, leaving you no room to argue as he pulled out the ingredients that would be needed.
"Thank you!" you breathed, eyes watering slightly at his kindness. Nobody usually helped you out, it was normally you in the kitchen feeding your family and friends, sweating and aching by the end of it. But it was worth it to see your loved ones happy faces. It felt strange to be so seen and cared for.
Wrapping your arms around his waist, you buried your face into his chest, feeling the rumble at his quiet chuckle passed through him into you. His arms returned the hug, holding you close to him as he pressed a chaste kiss to your crown.
"You do the fish, I'll prep the turkey. Then we can do the veggies and side dishes. I got an excellent deal on some Corellian tubers at the market!" you instructed, squeezing him one last time.
"Yes sir!" he saluted, before he swatted at your ass.
You yelped, pushing him away from you playfully as you got to work.
When the boys finally came round for your Life Day Feast, they were amazed at how much food was laid out in front of them. There was bowls of veggies of all kinds, steaming tubers, fresh bread including five-blossom bread and dao-ben steamed buns and a variety of roasted meats and fish filled the table. It was almost impossible to get anything else on.
"Damn, vod'ika! You made all of this?" Hexx gaped, staring at all the food.
"Well, I know how much you boys eat. Besides, May helped out as well" you smiled, turning to your husband and leaning into his side.
"You can cook vod?" Veetch teased, shrugging off his jumper and sitting down. He couldn't wait to taste your cooking, even if he now knew some of it was made by his ori'vod.
"Shut it!" May warned, clipping his head, but everyone could hear the genuine affection that filled his words.
Chuckling at their antics, you invited them all to sit down and get comfortable. Mayday poured drinks for everyone, fingers grazing yours as you got the first glass.
"Eat! We didn't make this just to look at!" you encouraged, eager to watch them and their reactions to your cooking. It always warmed your heart to see people eating, it was a way that you showed love.
"Only right if you eat first, cyare! You made all this" Mayday insisted, squeezing your shoulder and sitting down.
Blinking in surprise, you looked around to see the endearing looks from your husband and his brothers. You were always so eager to see everyone else's enjoyment, it was strange to put yourself first. Taking a plate with a shaking hand, you offered it to Mayday. "Fill me up then" you murmured, watching as his eyes darkened at your words.
Mayday piled your plate high with food, making sure you had a bit of everything. It wasn't until you had taken your first bite did the others reach for plates and fill them up too. "You're brilliant, cyare!" Mayday complimented, hand coming to squeeze your knee under the table.
"Tastes amazing! Thank you so much!" Veetch moaned around a mouthful of turkey.
"Agreed! Are you sure you cooked this Mayday? I'm surprised it's not burnt to a crisp!" Heex teased his Commander relentlessly.
"Urgh! You're not getting any dessert, di'kut!" Mayday threatened, scowling at his men.
"You are though" you whispered into his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
