Out of the three remaining Delta squad members, I love Sev. There's something about him that draws me to him so much 🤤.
⚠️ Y/N has slight concerns about Sev, a reference to Sev's love of killing, fluff and loving Sev
Many people, upon hearing that your boyfriend was Sev, a clone commando from Delta squad, looked at you as if you were mentally abnormal. You still didn't understand why you fell in love with Sev. But despite his... peculiar personality, Sev was good to you. He loved you, made you feel safe. And let's be honest, he had an amazing voice. And he took you seriously.
But when you were about to share Sev's bed for the first time, your mind was suddenly flooded with worries. Sev wanted to spend the night with you in your apartment when he returned from his mission. You could see his muscles and body after a shower. And the sight of him in his black was just as alluring. But when he was next to you in your bed, you were still worried.
Sev slept peacefully, his chest moving with every breath. But you still weren't asleep. You thought if you fell asleep, you'd end up dead. You'd learned once that Sev had woken up from a nightmare and had wounded Scorch with a vibroblade when he tried to wake him. Sev, like many of the clones, had nightmares. What if Sev woke up and mistook you for an enemy? And you'd end up with a blade in your chest, or your chest ripped open with your heart exposed?
However, your thoughts were interrupted by Sev's voice as he slowly opened his eyes and looked at you.
"You're not sleeping." His low voice filled your ears, and you sighed. You were afraid that if you told him your fears, he would laugh at you.
"I'm sorry, but... I was scared if I fall asleep, I will end up dead." Sev looked at you silently, and you began to regret ever saying anything.
".... Come here." Sev raised his arm, motioning for you to move closer to his chest. After a moment's hesitation, you snuggled into his chest, and his arm wrapped around you. But not too tightly, in case you wanted to pull away. "Do you feel it?"
"Your heart? Yes... Yes, I feel it."
"Good. Because as long as I live, I will never hurt you. Even in sleep. You're safe with me." You were almost moved by his words. You hugged him and kissed his chest. Sev laughed softly, which made you feel warm inside. "I love you, meshla."
"I love you too." And that night you slept peacefully with your beloved Sev. He may have been a psycho sometimes, but he was a psycho who loved you and would protect you.
Requested by @neverrrrrrrmind
HELLO FROM THE MAIN ACCOUNT. I’d like to request a Sev sickfic but that edgelord is the one who’s sick AND he’s terrible at it! It’s nothing but flu! But he acts like he’s dying! THANKS YOU’RE THE BEST Z3ST! 🫵🏾🫵🏾🫵🏾
Choose Your Mojo
Clone Commando Sev × GN!Reader
✢ 𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 ✢ ↤ Prev | Next ↦
✧ Prompt: 24) “I feel like I'm dying.”
✧ Summary: When it comes to flu, boys and men who catch it react so similarly—like a dying, desperate lover. And of course, Sev has to act like he's got both flu and a lover to be desperate about (because he really does have both).
✧ Tags & Warnings: reader as a jedi knight and healer, reader has hair, sev is a joker istg, also a total cuddler, fluff, comfort, established secret relationship, i feel like he's not dying enough, credits for trying sev 👍🏼
✧ Word Count: 2.1k
✧ A/N: @hellfiresky VODDD THANKS FOR REQUESTING! Sorry it took so long bcs I stole the chance to include this in my Sicktember series. Sev here is based on Book!Sev so I hope I portrayed him right since he's a comedian and I am one myself (ha ha). Anyway I hope you all enjoy this SEV one! 💛
Main Masterlist | Read on AO3 | dividers by me
For a Taungsday, you've been in a good mood so far. And with good mood, you've tackled most of what you have in your Taungsday schedule; early break-of-dawn meditation, two classes with crechelings in the morning, be on standby and tending to patients in the Halls of Healing, and polishing your lightsaber skills with your friends before the sunset. You've had it in the beginning the moment you cracked your eyes open, that this should be another one of those days gone through quite smoothly without Force shenanigans courtesy of the Jedi Initiates.
So a quick shower in the communal fresher rejuvenates you, ready for tackling the next thing in your list; going through treatises about the history of the Force to teach the crechelings the next morning with a cup of tea—for, alas, Benduday is the only time when you're free of classes. You walk back to your quarters doesn't take long. You open the door with a series of codes tapped into the panel on the side, and as it opens to reveal the interior of your room, your half-baked yelp gets cut off in your throat as your eyes take in and recognize the broad, brooding figure in the center of your macrame rug.
“Sev!” You shove a hand into your chest to calm your pounding heart. “You startled me!”
Diving right into breathing exercise, you realize how discreet you should be, and not indicating to anyone who might be listening or passing by that a clone is inside your room, possibly without permit. You hastily step inside and lock the door shut. “How did you enter? It was locked, wasn't it?”
“Locked, alright,” his deep, scratchy voice rumbles. The commando shows a device you've never been graced a sight of before, dangling on his finger. “I stole Fixer's thingamajig. He's gonna tear an ear outta me, but…” Sev’s dark eyes, usually hardened with strictness and focus, noticeably softens as he takes in your presence. “...Worth it.”
Temple’s rules and supposed penalty of trespassing be damned, you rush into the open arms of your boyfriend. As soon as you make contact with his firm chest, the odd silkiness of his worn PT hoodie brushes against your cheek as Sev's large, strong arms press all around your body, encasing you within his safe embrace. You feel his warm breath on your hair, the one comfort that you could only need with his presence.
Your fingers trace his spine. “As much as I love to have you here… you shouldn't be here at all, Sev. You're trespassing.” Your tone drops in reminder, almost in disappointment for his inability to wait, his surprising lack of patience. “We have Primeday.”
Sev lets you go and sighs, making his way to your armchair by the hearth. “You can kick me out if this is like any other day, cyare.”
You follow him, concerned by his pessimistic tone. “What, what's going on?”
Sev slumps on your armchair, and instead plays with your lightsaber hilt that he conjures out of nowhere. He must've snagged it from where you usually keep it—you’ve told him multiple times to be careful. But then he seems to lose interest to ramble on, unlike a couple of minutes ago.
Exhaling, you try to get a read on him then—calling out a gentle tendril of your bright Force signature to his much dimmer one, caressing the outer layer that you decide not to peel yet. Something's causing a disturbance at his self, is your conclusion. You haven't got a deeper reading as the need to accompany him defeats the former, so you sit on the armrest and touch his jaw to bring his face toward you. Your beloved’s scars stare back at you, a remainder of every operation he and his squad had accomplished in the past. But you're never bothered with them, never once. Sev, with all he is, is perfect for you.
His skin is cool, and then warm, under your touch. Realization dawns within you. “Sev, you…” you take him in, “You're sick.”
Sev looks up to meet your observing gaze, leaning into your touch and finding your skin warm. He reminds you of a tooka. Perhaps it's the Force that still makes contact with his core. “I need ailment, cyare,” he mutters pleadingly, lightsaber hilt falling into his lap—your breath gets caught in your throat. “I feel like I'm dying.”
You carefully remove your lightsaber from the blatant risk of Sev’s eunuchhood and place it on the caf table, emitter facing away from you both. “Okay,” you sigh after you get that out of the way, shifting your focus and concerns back to Sev's illness. “Do you want me to lay my Jedi mojo on you or you wanna tell me?”
Sev scoffs despite his weakened state—you’ve only just noticed the way his skin under his collar prickles. “I'd tell you if I know,” he says, shivering visibly—the adrenaline earlier when reunited with you had kept the shivers at bay. “All I'm feeling is like being passed around by a hoard of Shyyyo birds and my bones crushed. If this is what karma feels like, I won't sin anymore, promise.”
You can't help but smile at his slight deliriousness. “You are very dramatic.” Sev presses his own hand on top of yours, craving for your warmth, from the Force. Internally, you ask for its help again, and the Force readies itself by your side. “Sev?”
His eyes are shut, apparently enjoying your warmth a little too much. His fingertips are growing colder. “Hm?”
“Now, breathe with me and be still. I'm about to find out what's bothering you.”
Sev obediently follows your breathing exercise. Once he calms down, and that you've found that he's probably near falling asleep, the Force reaches out to him again on your behest to peel the outermost layer of his defenses. All you can come up with is cold-tired-peaceful, which is enough for a preliminary reading of his state.
Your thumb brushes across his jaw. His eyes flutter open. “You're weakened quite badly. Your immune system dropped and…” Dizzy-cold-tired. “Something's wrong with your head, too.”
A series of his deep chuckles startles you. “Been told that a lot.”
“Hush,” you poke his cheek warningly. You haven't peeled another layer, afraid that if you go another round you'd accidentally touch the particular part of his core where he stores his fondest memories, the easiest to recall as he stores it in the front of his mind. You never want to breach his privacy—his memories are his own to relish. “Does it hurt? Your head?” you ask then.
He grunts, but lacks the scratchy quality, so it comes out like a whine. “Like Scorch threw a brick at me.”
“He… didn't really do that, did he?”
“I wouldn't mind. That usually leads to a nice spar.”
“Sev, please,” you sigh. The corner of his lips twitches. You poke his cheek again in warning, and go to gently prod around his core again with the help of the Force. It helps you listen to his respiratory systems, and it's telling you that it isn't good. “Something’s wrong with the way you breathe as well. Wait… Ah, your nose is clogged.”
Upon cue, Sev sniffs. “So what's the diagnosis, doc?”
You caress his cheek again, his hand on top of yours pressing further. “Just a little more. What's clear now is that your ailment isn't coming from your core. You're clean, Sev, and that brings me great relief.” A burst of energetic conclusions blasts into you, helping you connect the dots quicker and bringing his symptoms together. “Sev, are you—are you having a bloody flu?!”
Once again Sev's chuckles rumble from the depth of his chest, the sound emanates warmth and longing inside your chest. “Love it when you curse outta nowhere.”
You can't help but huff a chuckle—the Force seems to have entertained you enough on purpose by playing along, and so it recedes from Sev's core. The frustration in you disappeared the moment you heard your boyfriend's laughter. It's odd with all this mountainous amount of affection you have toward your beloved.
“Sev,” you start gently, chiding carefully since it's awfully stupid anyway for trespassing, all because of a flu. “Your usual cure-all shot would cure this immediately. Why risk trespassing and come to me?”
“‘Cause I wanna see you,” Sev turns his head to you, beholding you with sad, half-drooped eyes. “Last time we met felt like ages ago and right after that, me and the boys got catapulted around the galaxy here and there where they needed us.”
You feel the curve of your lips bloom. “I miss you too,” you say, as softly as you can deliver to convey your heart. You notice Sev trying to curl further into you, and you lean so he can support his head on your waist. “But I'd be much happier if you'd take your cure-all shot instead, and rest.”
He grumbles into your tunic, “But I wouldn't see you.”
Arguing with him, no matter how easy and gently, would always bring you around and around, and as you settle with the fact that there's no way out of this—and that Sev is already here anyway. Once he's headed one direction, it needs a little more challenge to shake him and turn him around. Yet you never tire, instead admire how steadfast and strong he is with his own goals.
“Okay, then.” You tenderly comb through his dark, close-cropped hair with your fingers. “If you want this, Sev; you'll go through the normal pace of healing process. The natural way. While your illness could be cured with your cure-all shots in a jiffy, this might take a couple of days at most for all your flu symptoms to disappear.”
Sev nods sleepily against you. “Yeah, one of those, please.”
You lean in, brushing your lips just above his eyebrow. Sev squeezes your hand tighter in longing. “Are you sure?”
“Wanna go slow this time,” he reiterates, pulling away from you to stand. He rolls his neck and groans as he does his shoulders, presumably having to be sore too. “S’been tiring to keep up at speed with things.”
You rise from the armchair to brew calming tea for both you and Sev before you start, and yet can't help the pity pooling thickly in your chest. “You haven't been resting well, have you?”
Sev takes a tad more time to answer, “No.”
“Well then, a good amount of rest would do you good.”
As soldiers with enhanced metabolism as they are, even clones have limits. They are only human after all. Any overworked living, breathing being experiences the fragility of being a mortal.
“Can I sleep here?”
As you have just placed two mugs on the counter, you turn to find Sev standing by your bed, already squishing another couple of pillows close to his chest and an extra blanket draped over his shoulders and wrapped around his body—taken from the spares you keep under your bed in a container bag. It's as if he is challenging you to say no, which he already knew you wouldn't have the heart to. Lacks the smile, understandably, as he's quite ill. The fever is beginning to bite into him.
“Tea first,” you list, turning off your boiling kettle before pouring hot water into the mugs. “And then your medicine, brush your teeth, then you can sleep.”
His eyes noticeably spark at your acceptance, despite him muttering deeply, “Fine by me.”
You bring the mugs over to your one and only bedside table and help Sev set his pillows. He's only sneaked in for a couple of times in the past, making this his third, yet you prep his side of the bed as if natural for you. Sev sits obediently by the edge, his sock-clad feet flat against the rug as he waits for you to grab your medicine case.
“You really do love your risks, don't you, my love,” you muse.
Sev releases a series of breathy chuckles, best as he can in his state without making his headache worse. “I’m a man of danger. Just living up to the title.”
Laughing, you take your seat by his side, the bed dipping further with both of your weights.
“So that you could be worthy?” Your eyes sparkle in amusement and love. “Sev, you already are.”
Meeting your genuine gaze, he licks his lips, his cheeks flushing in another way than feverish. You've rendered him quiet, but he doesn't say anything else. He misses you, and has no damn idea how to convey that without risking infection. It is just as you itch to kiss him, taste his lips, to tell him again you miss him just how much.
If only he's not ill. Perhaps Primeday it is, then.
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 ⬆️)
I think this is my last (belated) entry for @deltasquadweek. I might use the remaining prompts to tell the rest of this floofy little floofball of a story, though.
Part 1: Bet I Can Make You Smile
Part II: Told You I Could Make You Smile
Part III: "You're Hurt"
Part IV: Scars
“Kriff, Sev. Thank you for sharing that story with me. Want your hug now?” The poor guy went through hell on Geonosis only to come home and stab himself in the hand. Not much R&R.
“You don’t have to –“ He stops talking as you sit on his lap and wrap your arms around him, giggling into his shoulder. He doesn’t resist even though he’s a bit stiff at first.
“Aw, Sevvy,” you hug him tighter, giggling.
“Laugh it up, mirsheb,” he rumbles in your ear before wrapping his arms around you.
It’s a surprisingly good hug. And he’s so warm. Smells good too. And that voice…
You relax into the embrace, enjoying the comfort you’ve been craving since leaving home. If you were honest with yourself, you would have expected Scorch to be the one to end up cuddling with you. Fixer was the least likely – you know better than to speculate, but something about him screams either asexual or a total freak in private. Not that you expect Boss to be particularly affectionate either, but there have been a handful of awkward sideways ‘hugs’ and shoulder pats.
Sev had been a wildcard. You’d known men like him before – taciturn, stoic, singularly focused – and they tended to fall into one of two categories: complete aversion to any kind of vulnerability or affection, or touch-starved snuggle monsters. The way his muscles lost some of their tension when you hugged him earlier, and now the way his breathing slowed after you suspect he sniffed your hair, suggests to you that the sniper might fall into the latter.
One of his large hands is suddenly in your hair, a startling progression.
“Your hair is tickling me,” he says, smoothing it down and pushing it over your shoulder, away from his face, but making no effort to remove you from his lap.
You chuckle. “Sorry. It has a mind of its own.”
“What was it thinking just now?” You swear you hear humor in his voice, and not the sarcastic ribbing he aims at Scorch. This is more playful.
“Wanted to see if it could beat a commando in head-to-nose combat.”
He actually laughs, not just a quick snort but a whole chuckle.
“It might win,” he says quietly, smoothing it down again with another pass of his palm.
He combs his fingers tentatively through the ends, twisting a lock around his finger. It makes you relax more, resting your head on his shoulder and unintentionally sighing. You love when someone plays with your hair. You often find yourself doing it, especially when you’re stressed.
His free hand takes yours and you fall into a comfortable silence, feeling peaceful and safe for the first time in years.
You wake up on your bench bed in the crew mess, immediately confused. The last thing you remember, you were curled up on Sev’s lap while he played with your hair. He must have been true to his word and carried you back here after you fell asleep.
Cute.
You smile. You can safely say that you had no interest, let alone intention, of developing an interest in any of Delta Squad. Flirting with Scorch feels safe, like flirting with a gay friend. Scorch probably knows about as much about pleasuring a woman as the average gay man, but he’s sweet and safe. He wasn’t going to try to make any real moves on you.
Teasing Sev was fun because he was such a grump… or so you thought. You had intended to just annoy him but when he lingered in the doorway the night before, you realized he had a crush on you. Agitating him was apparently an effectively flirting strategy, even if unintentional.
And mere hours later, you fell asleep in his arms.
…Oh, this could go terribly…
Before you can be completely absorbed in your navel gazing, Sev emerges from the bunks.
“Well, good morning, sunshine,” he drawls, an unusually playful note in his voice.
You sit up and stretch “You waiting just outside the door, waiting for me to wake up? That’s creepy, Sev.”
“What? No!” He sounds mortified. “That’s more of a Scorch thing.”
You don’t mean to laugh as hard as you do, but you’re in a great mood and feel better rested than you have in a while.
“How long have I been out?”
“Well” – he sits down next to you – “You fell asleep about two hours into my watch. Brought you down here about six hours ago, when Fixer came up for his watch.”
You can’t blame sleepiness for your confusion, so, “Wait, does that mean I slept in your lap for four hours?”
“Give or take,” he says with a smirk. “My legs fell asleep, otherwise I would have brought you back here earlier.”
You study his face and see a slight softness, little crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Well, thank you, Sevvy. I haven’t slept that well in ages. I might insist on sleeping with you for the rest of this little adventure.”
He turns a vivid shade of red and avoids meeting your eyes for a moment.
“I didn’t mean that to sound like a euphemism. Unless…” You prod him gently. “How did you sleep?”
“Good,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
“You have sweet dreams?”
He’s quiet for a beat before looking at you. “I did. I dreamed about you.”
You giggle again and squeeze Sev's hand. “I’ll go first. Tell me about this scar you have that the boys teased you about…”
You watch as his head falls back and he stares at the bulkhead. “I was really hoping you’d forgotten about that.”
“That bad, huh?” Now you really want to know.
He hesitates. “I would rather get to know you better before I share that story.”
You exhale through closed lips with a “pfft” sound. “Okay, okay… I’ll grant you a temporary reprieve, but you better open up before I fall asleep or I’m going to be really annoyed.”
He snort. “So, I guess I should ask you questions too.”
This giant, terrifying killer’s awkwardness in regular conversation with a civilian is amusing. He notices your crooked smile.
“What?”
“Did you… paint your armor like that just to scare people away so you don’t have to have conversations with them? Human interaction make you that uncomfortable?”
“What? No. Well…” He’s clearly flustered.
“Sev. It’s okay,” you say simply. “I’m teasing. Relax.”
He doesn’t say anything, continuing to sit silently, staring at you.
“Did you want to ask me a question?” you prompt.
He tilts his head to one side. “Yeah. How did you meet A’den?”
So you tell him the story…
You and Chessa ran frantically through the street, the adrenaline making you giggle almost maniacally as you sprinted through the market in hopes of losing the guard. You glanced behind you to make sure Chessa was still with you and missed the massive loader droid carrying a large wooden crate into the street.
Well, no, you didn’t miss it – you hit it almost dead on. You just didn’t see it until you turned around and suddenly found yourself staring up at the cloudy sky. The loader droid seemed to take no notice of the casualty and continued trundling along.
“Karabast!” Chessa swore, skidding to halt next to you. “You okay, y/n?”
She didn’t wait for you to answer before she was hauling you up by your arm.
“You’re bleeding something fierce,” she hissed as she got you moving again. “You’re going to be more conspicuous now with all that blood running down your face.”
“But I wasn’t bleeding before,” you joked, using humor to stave off the pain that you needed to not feel for a just a little while longer. That said, you could still feel dozens of eyes on you as you careened toward a narrow alleyway off the main market street. From there, you would have options for your escape route.
You reached the alleyway – oh, sweet salvation – and pivoted much more gracefully than Chessa must have expected from a woman with a possible head injury. She would have missed the turn had you not reached out and grabbed her, jerking her out of the street in what must have been a comical scene to anyone who bothered to look.
You took a moment to rest, bent over with your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath and cursing under it as you saw the blood drops hitting the filthy ground.
“Okay…” you panted. “We need somewhere to lie low for a bit where I can fix my head…”
“Honey, I don’t think there’s any fixing that,” Chessa teased.
“Ha. Ha.” You rolled your eyes.
“I have an idea…” she said brightly.
“Oh?” You looked up at her.
She mouthed a single syllable. You rolled your eyes again but had to concede that Ro’s shop was the closest place where you could lay low and make sure you hadn’t done any real damage to your head in the collision. And Chessa would have plenty to keep her busy while you took care of the bloody gash on your forehead.
“Okay, yeah…” You stood up and followed her to the ship repair shop that was definitely not involved in any kind of unlawful activities.
“Well aren’t you a lovely surprise,” Ro greeted you before turning to the large, hard-faced man he’d been talking to. “A’den, this blood-soaked rancor is y/n, the supply chain and procurement expert I mentioned.”
You quirk an eyebrow at Ro. “If I’m a supply chain and procurement expert, that must mean you’re – what? – a secondary market analyst and rare goods distributor?”
“Exactly,” the jovial fence responded, ogling Chessa eagerly. “To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure, and should you be at the hospital instead?”
“Not this time,” Chessa bubbled, taking Ro’s hand. “Just in the neighborhood and thought we’d stop by. We ran into some traffic – “
“Literally,” you interrupted with a chortle.
“I see. And how long do you need to ‘stop by’?”
“Just a muni guard,” you answered. “And we lost him in the market, so maybe just long enough for you two to… ugh… yeah…”
Chessa’s tongue was already in his mouth. Or vice versa. You didn’t want to look too closely.
Ro’s visitor – A’den, apparently – looked bemused. “Why don’t you two go… get… reacquainted while I talk to y/n here and maybe help her with her traffic injury.”
The couple needed no further prompting – Chessa already had one leg wrapped around his hips and looked like she was trying to climb him – and stumbled toward the back office.
A’den shook his head almost like he was saying, “Kids these days,” then turned back to you. “I’m Sargeant A’den Skirata with the Grand Army of the Republic, and I need your help.”
You burst out laughing. “Oh, come on! You need a more plausible cover story than that…”
He fixed his eyes on you and raised his eyebrows.
“…Wait, you’re serious?”
“I am,” he said as he stepped toward you.
You were dumbstruck. Why the hell did Ro know a GAR operative, why did he mention you to said operative, what did he want from you, and also, what the hell?
He an extended an arm toward your face and you instinctively lurched away.
“It’s okay, y/n. You’re hurt. Can I take a look? Promise I won’t make it worse.”
You snorted. “Well in that case…”
“So he bacta’d me and glued my head back together – look, no scar,” you say, leaning forward for Sev to get a better look. “And now, here I am.”
“Yeah,” Sev finally speaks. “You really are reckless, girl.”
You sigh but he actually winks at you and you laugh.
Hey! I know your main focus has been art lately but I have a writing prompt idea for Sev and I thought of you when it struck me! And it really could go for art or writing, but I wanted to shoot it your way regardless.
"I would kill for you. Please ask me to kill for you."
"No."
Roots of Warmth (One-Shot)
First of all, thank you so much for thinking about me when coming across this prompt. Sev is perfect for it, and I felt inspired immediately. I have so many writing WIPs (some Delta Squad ones included) laying around, but somehow can’t find the energy/inspiration to continue them (I will one day, I promise). But I managed to get this done in about a day. @writersnook11 thank you so much for inspiring me with your ask <3
This got a bit dark, but it’s mostly a reminder that all lives, everyone matters. And also that the toughest and most fiercest of us all need hugs too. Take care, everyone ❤️
Summary: You're there to help Sev through some bad memories
Rating: Teen and up (SFW but check tags)
Tags: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, trauma, PTSD, nightmares, post-Kashyyyk
Words: 1.657
Pairing: Sev x gen!reader
Read this over on AO3
Vhwoom. Vhwoom. Vhwoom.
The rhythmically high-pitched thumping of the dual missile turret’s turbolaser echoes through his bucket as he’s aiming at the Separatist Cruiser hovering over Kachirho. It resonates through his armour, through his body, making his bones vibrate; he loves the sensational feeling of it.
Slowly, one by one, his squad joins in, and a thrilling feeling swells in his chest as they near their mission's objective. It's getting hot inside his helmet, but his suit is doing its job; he knows it's from excitement. Adrenaline's pumping through his system.
Soon after the cruiser’s shields give in, Advisor’s voice is heard over his helmet’s comlink, informing the squad the hull’s weakening and they need to keep firing. Tsk, as if he was going to stop firing before seeing it go up in flames. Scorch isn’t going to shut up if they don’t end a mission with a big explosion. Well, he’s probably not going to shut up about that either.
And there it is: his HUD shifts into a darker mode to protect his vision from the blinding light that fills the sky when the cruiser blows apart. The platform below his turret trembles, and he catches himself panting from exhilaration. He composes himself before addressing his squad. “Nothing like a little precision teamwork, Deltas,” he says calmly, the smirk on his face lost to his brothers. Scorch’s voice tunes in: “And that was nothing like a little precision teamwork.” He subdues an amused chuckle in response just when Fixer tells them to lose the chatter.
Suddenly, his excitement makes place for focus when a shiver runs down his spine. When he turns around, he notices how the blast door to the platform opens. But it cannot be his squad; they’re too far away, still positioned at their own turrets. Without taking a moment to consider his options, he grabs his DC17m with blaster attachment and starts emptying it on the uninvited guests. Battle droids fall to the platform’s surface, but they keep coming. He realises he’s being overrun, and with an annoyed grunt, turns towards the shared communication channel.
“Boss, I’ve got a problem here!” It sounds more dire than he would like to admit, but he’s finding himself in a tight spot. Instantly, the squad leader’s voice chimes in: “Sev, where are you?” He’s having trouble keeping clear, and although his Katarn-class armour is making it a challenge for the enemy, he’s starting to feel the impact. His HUD shows glitches, as if affected by a jammer or electromagnetic pulses. He doesn’t have time to find the source of the disturbance.
“Sector 5.6, encountering multiple hostiles! Need support ASAP, sir!” His HUD falters and goes black. “Boss?!” he shouts, but there is no response. He doesn’t even know if the squad got his location. In frustration by the lack of visibility and being surprised by the enemy, he yanks off his helmet, only to find said enemy flooding the platform. He tosses his bucket at a SBD, making it blast some clankers as it staggers on its feet, but they’re too many. He cannot hold position. They’re too many..
He doesn’t even remember how he got off the platform. Clankers, Geonosians, Trandoshans; they all blend together in his mind. All he knows is they’re the enemy. He remembers being chained up in a damp prison cell, his wrists aching and his muscles sore. He still feels every bruise, every cut, every burn mark. The lack of hydration and nutritions, the loss of blood, the absence of his squad. An emptiness gnawing at him.
He remembers his echoing shouts, in hopes it will lead his squad to him. He doesn’t give up, because he knows they’ll be there. They’re his pod brothers. They won’t leave him behind.
…
A bone chilling scream woke you from your sleep, and a shiver ran down your spine - was it from the heart wrenching sound, still ringing through your ears, or because the blanket was suddenly jerked from your shoulders, and you got wrapped in a cold feeling? Being fully awake in an instant, you turned over at trained speed to check on him, only to find your growing fears had indeed become reality.
He was sitting upright, his broad chest heaving as sweat gutted from his throbbing temples. His hands were grasping around him, reaching for nothing that was present, searching for something to defend himself. But most heartbreaking was the look in his eyes; a feral dread had washed over them.
“Sev!” You shot upright yourself, struggling to get a hold of his wrists as he kept tossing his hands about, grunting as if in hand-to-hand combat with a Trandoshan slaver. It always took some effort to make him snap back into reality, to make him realise it had been another nightmare. A few bruises on your own body reminded you of the increasing frequency of his recurring bad memories.
“It's okay, you're safe,” you continued, tightening your grasp once you had a good grip around his wrists. You were partly positioned on top of him by now, having to throw your body into the struggle to stand a chance in overpowering him. His head turned your way, and a snap of his teeth brought his face dangerously close to yours.
“You're with me,” you panted, and at last, being so close to his face, you watched as the feralness in his eyes slowly faded, making place for recognition, followed by shame and hurt. As soon as you loosened your hold on his wrists, he freed his hands from your grasp and gently slid them behind your back, pulling you into a tight embrace.
“I would kill for you,” he whispered under his breath, and by now, you knew it was his way to tell you how much he cared about you, how sorry he was about worrying you again. You flung your arms around his neck and placed a soft kiss on his rugged cheek; your answer of telling him everything was alright, and he had nothing to worry about. “I know,” you whispered, as you brushed your cheek against his and held him dearly.
Normally, this was the moment where you'd lay back into bed like this, continuing your embrace until he fell into a less bothersome sleep again. But this time, he briefly tightened his clasp around you instead, burying his face between your neck and shoulder. “Please,” he whispered softly in a low, almost trembling voice, before pulling away to look you in the eye with a fragileness that made you shudder. “Ask me to kill for you.”
It startled you; you had never heard him say it like this. It almost sounded like he was begging you to; like it was the only thing that made his existence valid. Although you knew what this commando was capable of, he suddenly appeared extremely vulnerable to you. As if he would shatter in a thousand pieces if you let go of him. As if he would cease to exist if he was left behind again. He couldn't go through it again.
Carefully, because you knew how intense his nightmares could get, you reached for his face, cupping his stubbled chin in the palm of your hand. You beheld his features for a moment, noticing how he hadn't shaved in a while, how the bags under his eyes suddenly made him look older, how his eyes were filled with anxiety, with fear.
He would never admit he was afraid, but you knew he had changed since Kashyyyk. You knew how the war had left its scars on him, and not just physically.
“No.”
Your voice had never sounded stronger, never sounded more determined when you spoke that single word. But somehow, the fear in his eyes grew stronger. Killing was everything he knew; he was trained to kill, born to kill, created to kill. His whole existence was about killing. If you didn't want him to kill for you, what use was he to you?
“Sev, ner verd..”
He turned his face away from you, his gaze averting you at the word, because he felt far from being a warrior. He wasn't worthy of the title anymore, and it hurt; it was the only thing he was supposed to be.
“Ner cyare..”
He didn't turn around to face you, but his eyes darted back into your direction. He didn't know how to react to your show of affection, since he still wasn't used to it; but you had his attention. You noticed the slightest wrinkling of his brows as he tried keeping his composure, as he tried upholding his mask of the untouchable soldier he was trained to be.
You wet your lips before continuing, your eyes darting between the both of him as you tried catching his gaze again, whilst sharing your next words with him. “You are so much more than this. You don't have to kill to have my approval. To have my affection. You matter, Sev. You matter to me.”
With a gentle movement of your hand, you encouraged him to face you again. Softly, your thumb caressed his cheek, your index finger sliding over the scar on his brow. Slowly, as if he didn't want to admit he longed for it, he leaned into your touch. A low, gruff yet affectionate hum escaped his throat as he felt your fingers on his skin, and he slowly closed his eyes to focus on you and you alone.
And with closed eyes, all he could see was a light. A vivid light surrounding you in the darkness around him. Your touch felt like a seed being planted, and he could feel how it slowly grew roots of warmth inside him. Right now, he might not be the warrior he was trained to be, but he mattered anyway. And you were here to remind him of it.
Something something about cradling him back to sleep whilst humming a Mandalorian lullaby
Taglist (read to join): @aknightreaderr @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @kotemf @thecoffeelorian @star-wars-lycanwing-bat @bixlasagna @dreamie411 @heidnspeak @earlgreyci @cyaretra @bulletproofskoll @alor-ika @feralferrule @maybe-some-words @imperialsprig NPT @ghostymarni for Sev and @deltasquadweek for Delta Squad content
Alright I'm off to lurk from the shadows again for a little while, take care you lovely folks <3
Silly fic request but can we get a fic based on the one scene from "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" The one where it's like "What do you see in him?" "He makes me laugh."
He's My Choice
Summary: You know that Sev is a little rough around the edges, but you love him all the same. Tragically, your friends don’t understand.
Pairing: Clone Commando Sev x GN!Reader
Word Count: 1385
Warnings: Sev is Sev. The reader was disowned as a minor and a mention of bigoted parents.
A/N: So, I know you said silly, but this turned into something not silly? I hope you like it anyway.
Click HERE to be added to my taglist
You release a happy hum as you scan the message that Sev just sent you. He’s off somewhere, probably disgusting, with the rest of his pod brothers. But he likes sending you updates on how he’s doing.
The image he sends you looks like a Geonosian nest, at least that’s what it used to be. You think. Scorch clearly has been having a ball with his grenades again.
Sev’s message is simple, “Scorch claims that blowing up a nest counts as 10 bugs. I think it should only count as one. He’s a cheater.”
A grin plays on your lips as you pop a piece of your cookie into your mouth and send back a message of your own, “You should let Scorch win from time to time, it’s good for his ego.”
“His ego is inflated enough. He doesn’t need my help with that.”
You laugh softly, and break off another piece of your cookie, “Humble is overrated, Sev.”
“Sure, sure. What’re you doing?”
“Meeting up with my friends. Eating cookies and drinking fancy caf.” You snap a picture of your half crumbled cookie and your almost empty caf, and send it to him, “They’re not very good.”
“Those are your favorite. You just miss me.”
“I do miss you. When do you think you’ll be home?”
“Not for a couple more weeks, cyar’ika. Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Sev. You don’t have to apologize.” You send the message, and then your fingers hesitate over the keyboard for a moment, “My friends keep trying to talk me out of dating you.” You finally admit.
“What are they saying about me?”
“They’re calling you a monster. They say there’s something wrong with you, like, mentally. And that they’re worried you’re going to hurt me.”
“I would sooner rip off my own arm.”
“I know that, Sev. I don’t believe them and I’m not listening to them. It’s just exhausting.”
He doesn’t respond for a moment, and then your comm rings as he calls you from whichever hellhole of a planet he happens to be on. You quickly pop your earbuds in, and answer the call.
“Cyar’ika,” Sev’s voice sounds rougher than usual, like he hasn’t slept in a couple of days. Or, well, like he’s not slept well, at least.
Still, his voice is like a balm to your aching heart, and you lean across the table, a lovesick smile drifting across your face, “Sev,”
“How long have your friends been bitching at you?”
Trust him to get right to the core of the situation, “Since the day we started dating.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You have so much on your plate already, Sev. I can handle my friends. And family.”
“Oh, so your family hates me too, do they.”
“Ah, well. You’re a clone, so—”
“I didn’t know your parents were racist.”
You sigh tiredly, “Yeah. I went very low contact with them after high school, because they wouldn’t listen to reason. But my friends decided to go behind my back and reached out to them—” You trail off with another sigh, “It’s fine. I can handle it.”
“You need better friends, cyare.”
“Yeah, well. I’m not as close to them as I used to be either. Which they blame you for, by the way.”
Sev scoffs, “Do you need me to stay on the line while you talk to your friends?”
“You’re in the middle of a war zone, Sev.”
“Eh, this place is actually clear right now.”
“Sev.”
A quiet laugh falls from him and your eyes close at the sound. If you focus hard enough you can almost imagine that he’s sitting across from you, rather than on the other side of the galaxy.
“Love you, cyare. You know that?” There’s something tender in his voice, and it makes you wish he was here even more than you already do.
“I love you too, Sev. I miss you.”
“I know, cyar’ika. I’ll be back before you know it.” You hear Boss shout something towards Sev in the background, and then Sev sighs, “I have to go, cyare.”
“I guessed. I’m surprised Boss let you call me at all.”
“He’s not the boss of me.”
“Uh—”
“Hush.” Sev pauses, “You gonna be alright?”
“I’ll manage. I always do.” You sit up in your chair again, “Safe travels, Sev,”
“As safe as I can be, cyare. I’ll call you tonight.” He promises.
“Alright. Love you.”
“Love you more.”
And then the call disconnects, leaving you feeling empty and missing him even more than you were before the call. But, then, that’s how it always goes.
You tear you gaze away from your comm as the chair across from you is pulled away from the table, and you have a very hard time hiding the annoyance when your, so called, best friends sit across from you. Joined by your parents.
“Have you been waiting long?” One of them asks.
“You know, I didn’t actually think that you would bring them here.” You say bluntly, without looking at your parents.
“They’re worried about you.” Your other friend offers quietly, “We all are.”
“I really don’t care.” You counter, bored out of your mind, “Anymore than I cared the last time you told me this.”
“Listen, sweetie,” Your mother leans across the table, reaching for your hands, but you pull back and fold your hands on your lap, still not looking at her or your father, “A clone is just not the way to go—”
“I don’t take opinions from bigots. Because your opinions are trash.”
“Look,” This time your friend reaches across the table to try and touch you, and he fails. “We’re just...what do you even see in Sev? He’s violent, he’s dangerous, he painted his armor to look like it’s covered in blood—”
“He makes me laugh,” You interrupt, “He makes me happy. He makes me feel safe.” Your father says your name, but you ignore him. “All of which,” You continue, “None of you offer me.”
“So what?” Your father asks, his voice loud, “You’re choosing him over your own family.”
“Funny. See, I remember you telling me to get out and never come back when I was 17. So, as far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a family.” You pick up the pack of cookies you bought and you push your chair back to stand, “And, I’m a pretty genial person. I make friends really easy.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying lose my number or I’m going to report all of you for harassment.” You start to walk away, but then pause, “I hope you all have the day you deserve.” And then you leave the cafe, your comm already in your hands so you can update Sev.
“I just had a friend break-up.”
Sev’s response is immediate, “Scorch’s boy toy works as a mechanic on the lower levels, he’s also a swoop bike racer. Scorch thinks the two of you will be good friends. Fixer’s girl is a tattoo artist who also lives and works on the lower levels.”
“Are you just trying to make sure that I’m friends with your brothers’ partners?”
Sev doesn’t reply for a moment, “...look, I’m planning on forever with you. That’ll be easier if you get along with my brothers’ forevers too.”
All of the weight from the conversation with your ex friends and your ex parents lifts from your chest as you read his comment, “Well, in that case, yes.”
“...what?”
“That was a proposal, wasn’t it? Yes.”
Sev doesn’t respond for long enough that you think another fight must have started, but just before you step into your apartment, your comm chimes, “In the bottom drawer of my bedside table.”
“Where you keep your kinky stuff?”
“Don’t be a brat.”
“Can’t help it.”
“Yeah, yeah. ANYWAY. There’s a present for you under the book.”
“Ooh?”
“Since we’re going to get married, you should probably wear it.”
“Sev! Did you get me a ring?!”
“Don’t be silly. With what money?”
“Boo.”
“I made you a ring.”
“Oh, that’s so much better! I’m never going to take it off. You’re mine now.”
“I’ve been yours, cyare. That ring just makes it legal. I gotta go kill some bugs. Stay safe.”
For any Snips veterans who were on my old Tumblr and were awaiting an update for The 'Man' in Commando:
I decided to do a second chapter two years later 🥳 And I’m going to drop the whole work off here because why not! I also have ever so slightly revised the old chapter.
Words: 3.1K
Tags: Phone sex, jerk off instructions, mutual masturbation, light dom/sub, alcohol consumption, voice kink, glove kink, mentions of blood
Read on AO3
Your job wasn’t overly glamorous, but it sufficed. The countless shinies trying to get you in bed and the wrangling of intoxicated troopers got old very quickly, as did the neon lighting and the smell of unshowered soldiers. Tonight, 79s was packed to the rafters. Hundreds of clones danced, drank and unwound under the blanket of cheap, flickering neon lighting. The GAR was celebrating from a successful campaign in the Expansion Region, as you had heard from every second trooper chewing your ear off.
The bar was a mess. One of your service droids was out of operation, falling victim to flying glass of spotchka that was hurled over the bar. Pouring yet another round of shots, you placed the last one on the tray, picked it up and turned to carry it over to the larrikin of a trooper that probably shouldn’t have been allowed to order more drinks. Before you could even take one step, a stray service droid was underneath you, tripping you and spilling a whole round of shots all over your front, the droid, and the floor.
“Kriff, AZI!” you shouted. More items to the list of things that had gone wrong tonight.
An even stickier floor and another broken droid. “Get that trooper another round,” you muttered to the nearest functioning droid. Collecting yourself, you stood up and brushed some stray hairs behind your ear. Before you could turn to make your way to the backroom to get changed, something, someone, caught your eye.
A T-shaped blue visor glowed through the crowd, pushing shinies aside, as he followed three other familiar troopers. The famed Delta Squad. Except this time, the fourth member of the quartet was with them. He was the most striking, and the most intimidating. A blood-coloured handprint stained the face of his helmet, down his arms and splattered over his chest. He followed his brothers, yet kept his distance. Shinies cleared their way for them, for him, as if he had the blue shadow virus. He was the only one out of his brothers that still donned his helmet. The buzz of troopers and thumping of the music faded into the background as you watched him curiously. Who was this Commando?
In your trance you hardly noticed that he had separated from his brothers and was approaching the bar. Approaching you.
Snapping out of it, you greeted him, offering him a smile. “What can I get for you, Commando?”
“Whiskey. Neat, please." His charming, gravelly voice startled you. He didn’t sound like any of the other clones. His voice was deep, harsh, and sounded like could take out a battle droid in and of itself.
“No worries," you said, clearing your throat that was suddenly dry. “Coming right up."
You turned your back to the trooper, reaching to the top shelf for some of your finest whiskey. Not that this bar carried anything overly remarkable. You felt your ill-fitting tight shirt ride up as you reached above your head, embarrassment blazing across your cheeks as you felt the trooper’s eyes burning into your exposed skin, even through the helmet he still wore. Why does this Commando intimidate you so much? You deal with troopers every day. But he was different.
You grabbed the neck of the bottle and turned to him. Even through the helmet, you could feel his eyes meet yours, where they lingered for but a moment. You poured his drink and sparked up conversation to try and relieve your nerves.
“I hope that isn't real blood, Commando, because I may just have to have you removed from the premises." You raised an inquisitorial eyebrow, still pouring the whiskey. He didn’t respond.
“I know that you’re a soldier and all, but having blood smeared across your bucket isn’t exactly appropriate, let alone appetising.” You teased. Still no answer. You finished preparing his drink and sat it on the bar in front of where he had since taken a seat.
“Not talkative tonight?” you asked, desperately trying to relieve the awkwardness that had overcome you.
“Sev. Call me Sev. And I’m quite happy just sitting here listening to you, mesh’la.” His baritone voice made your stomach flutter, as did his compliment. It was different coming from him than any other trooper that had tried their luck. He raised his hands to grip either side of his helmet and slowly removed it, revealing himself.
Thick, glossy curls of jet black hair curtained his tanned face, his deep amber eyes maintaining eye contact with you. A pink scar sliced from his mid forehead, over his eye and cheekbone, down to his chin. His thick jaw clenched as a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He had obviously caught you ogling at him.
He wrapped his large, gloved hand around the glass in front of him and raised it to his lips, before lowering it back down to sit on the sticky surface of the bar.
“Not bad. You have good taste…….” he trailed off, looking at you with questioning eyes.
“I don’t give my name away to just any charming trooper at my bar," you snickered, your lips curling into a cheeky smile.
“So be it, I’ll take that as a challenge.” He teasingly rolled his eyes, rocking in his chair.
Your eyes lowered to his chestplate, where a set of four numbers carved into the red-stained plastoid stood out.
4982.
Must be his designation number, you thought.
“About the blood," his thick voice cut in once again, “Don’t worry mesh’la, it may or may not be paint, but why don’t you give it the old sniff test and find out?"
An incriminating shade of crimson flushed to your cheeks and you felt yourself grow hot, and it wasn’t just the steam from the glass cleaner below you. Wound up, you gathered yourself.
“I don’t sniff clones in my spare time, Commando.” You smiled politely as you could manage, “Not only is it unprofessional, but the smell of the battlefield isn’t exactly the most pleasant."
“79s smells like that every night," he stated. His gaze felt as if he could read your very thoughts and feelings.
"I better get back to work." You shrunk down underneath his gaze and cowered away from the banter.
You turned away from Sev, nerves or excitement-you couldn’t really tell-still fluttering in your stomach. Before you could distract yourself too much, a very familiar pair of ARC troopers in blue were waiting at the bar for you.
“Look who's here!" Fives said, “My favourite bartender! Somebody has to keep those droids in line!” He gestured at the broken droids still on the bar floor, elbowing his twin and bursting out into laughter.
“I’ve been too busy to bin them, obviously." You defended. Busy with Sev.
With his laughter fading, Fives’ gaze slid to look over your shoulder.
“Mesh’la, ‘t looks like somebody has their eye on you tonight," Fives acknowledged, nodding in the direction that Sev had been sitting. “We’ll leave you to it." Fives and Echo turned to go back to the booth where the rest of the 501st regulars sat.
Once again, that feeling of embarrassment and intimidation flooded over you in spite of your false sense of confidence minutes earlier. You could do this! You spoke to troopers every night without any nerves. He is just like all of his brothers. Right?
You slowly turned, (perhaps to your demise) only to be met with the sight of Sev undressing you with his eyes. You suddenly felt stupid in your tight black blouse and slacks. It wasn't as if his imagination was picturing you in your work uniform, anyway. Swallowing, you walked back over to what was now his side of the bar, avoiding the broken droids on the floor. You only had your dignity and one patron to lose, after all.
“Can I help you, Commando?” You asked, trying to snap him out of his lascivious gaze.
“You know those guys?” He snorted, his eyes slowly lingered down your neck and to your decolletage.
You ignored his wandering eyes, despite the warmth it sparked between your legs.
“They’re here all the time, unlike you. You’re a new face," you teased, raising an eyebrow.
He choked on his drink, stifling a laugh, trying not to break his stoic, mysterious facade.
“I don’t exactly get a lot of time to celebrate, you know, with the war and all,” he smirked, the eye contact practically melting you into a puddle.
“Pardon me, sir.” You cooed, fluttering your lashes, laying it on heavily, “How could I forget, it’s not like I work at a clone bar or anything."
You’re not sure what set it off for him, but an animalistic look devoured his amber eyes.
He leant towards you, a low growl building in his chest. Not sure if you should be scared or aroused, you stayed put, indulging yourself in the sudden proximity. Surely he just wanted you close so you could hear him over the noise of the bar, right?
His rough, gloved hands caressed your chin oh-so softly as he brought his face closer to yours. His warm breath fanned over your face, a hot blanket of desire beginning to suffocate you. You felt yourself grow wet, his eyes so close to yours. Maker, he put the man in Commando.
He broke your gaze, bringing his lips to your ear, “Listen here,” he whispered, his abrasive voice making love to your skin, “you’re going to give me your commlink number. You’re going to go home early tonight, you’re going to shower and get into your prettiest number. And you’re going to get comfortable in your bed."
You swallowed the thick, dry lump in your throat.
"I’m going to comm you, you will pick up, and you will give me your name.” The last words slowly trickled out of his lips, fading into the background noise of the bar.
Maker, you had practically soaked through your panties. They were just as wet as the front of your top from earlier. You needed him.
“...and I’m going to give you 10 credits for another one of those fancy Chandrillan whiskeys." The pads of his still-gloved fingers maintained the hold they had on your chin, and he brought his lips away from your ear painfully slowly. You swallowed, not knowing what to do with yourself. Your pussy burned with arousal, thick, syrupy heat now pooling in your gut. His face was still close enough to yours that you were practically sharing the same air. His scar was so intimidating, yet so charming this close.
“Look at you, mesh’la, in knots for me," he whispered, eyes not leaving yours, “No shiny in this bar has ever had you like this before, has he?”
You shook your head, biting your lip. Any sense of confidence you had now melted away with your utter submission to him. He released his grip from your chin, allowing you to fulfil his demand for another drink.
You hurriedly poured it for him, all of your professionalism gone with your pride. You scribbled your commlink number on a napkin, and sat both it and the drink down in front of him.
He downed it in one sip, got up from his seat, grabbed his helmet and turned to leave.
“I’ll talk to you later, mesh’la." He smirked over his shoulder.
Speechless, you mustered up a nod, trying not to embarrass yourself in front of the numerous other troopers at the bar.
“By the way, I saw you looking at my chest. Four-nine-eight-two. Four-thousand, nine hundred and eighty two Geonosians. One for every fallen Commando.” His charming voice lingered as he turned and made his way back through the crowd of troopers to find the rest of his squad.
Maker. You practically fainted. He was no shiny at all.
CHAPTER 2 ♡
The door to your apartment hissed closed behind you with a soft thunk, and you leaned back against it, your fingers trembling. The echo of his voice still rattled in your head. “You will give me your name.”
You’d given your commlink number. Given him a look that said take me apart. But your name?
That, you’d withheld. Not intentionally. Maybe you just didn’t want it to be over yet.
Steam swirled around you as you stepped out of the refresher, your skin tingling from the heat. You’d scrubbed, exfoliated, shaved—twice. Absolutely everything.
You’d tossed half your closet onto your bed before settling on a sheer, dark-red babydoll that hinted more than it revealed. Matching set underneath. Thigh high stockings. Anything to give you the confidence to do what you were about to do.
You sat on the edge of your bed, legs crossed, heart pounding like a war drum. You stared at the blinking commlink on your nightstand.
Your chest tightened when it lit up.
Unknown ID.
You snatched it before the second ring.
“Hello?” You tried to hide the breathlessness in your voice.
Just the sound of him breathing nearly buckled your knees. A low growl filtered through the receiver.
“I’m not a patient man,” The voice rasped. “Tell me your name.”
Time to put on a brave face. You licked your lips, wetting them. “You want it that badly?” you teased, curling a finger into the garter of your thigh-high.
“Not as badly as I want to hear you say mine.”
You slapped a hand over your mouth to hide your whimper. This could not be happening. “I—” you started, but his voice cut you off.
“Strip for me.”
You froze, chest rising and falling in light pants. It felt like he was somehow watching you through the comm. “I already am,” you whispered.
A pause. Then, “Good girl.” That dangerous, dark satisfaction dripped from every word. It made your toes curl into the carpet. “You’re smarter than you look, mesh’la,” he drawled, voice soaked in wicked approval. “Now, lay down.”
You obeyed. No hesitation.
Your sheets were cool against your back, but your skin was burning, flushed and prickled with goosebumps.
“Legs open.”
You bit your lip, the rush of arousal almost dizzying as you slowly parted your thighs. You imagined him on the other end of the line, picturing you. How wet you were, how ready, how exposed. All for him.
“Imagine my fingers on your throat,” Sev whispered. “My teeth against your shoulder. You think I didn’t notice the way you stared at my gloves? You want to feel them all over that pretty body of yours?”
“I want you to drag your fingers through that mess you made,” he ordered, low and commanding. “Let me hear what a good little thing you are for me. Don’t hold back.”
You swallowed hard and obeyed.
You were so worked up just from hearing him, you had already soaked through the delicate lace of your panties. God, you needed him here. Your fingertips slowly dragged through your soaked folds, and you mewled, raw and desperate.
“Maker—” you whimpered, already arching.
“Say my name,” he growled. “Not ‘Commando.’ Not ‘sir.’ Say it.”
“Sev,” you breathed, fingers starting to trace tiny circles around your clit. “Sev, please—”
“Words, mesh’la.”
“I want you..I need you!” Your back arched into your hand, seeking more. “I need you to—”
“You need me to what?” he demanded.
“To ruin me.”
A low chuckle rumbled through the line. “You’re damn right you do.”
You whined openly into the comm resting on the sheets next to you. You pictured his breath on your neck. His hands gripping your hips. How he’d flip you onto your tummy and screw you into the mattress. You were suddenly achingly aware of how empty you were.
Then you heard it.
A sharp inhale on the other end, followed by the faintest shuffle of armour plates. A click. Fastenings undone.
Your breath caught.
“ You’re…” you whispered, voice barely audible.
He cut you off again, this time softer, rasping, starved.
“Damn right I am.”
Maker.
“I’ve been hard since you poured me that drink. Thought about bending you over that bar and taking you right there in front of all those shinies.” You could hear the roughness of his breath now— rhythmic, frantic. “I’m thinking about how wet and tight your mouth would be if I shoved my dick between your lips and made you choke on it.”
You moaned, loud and broken, your fingers circling your bundle of nerves with reckless abandon.
“I’d grab your throat,” he continued, his voice now strained, gravelly. “Not to stop you, no. To feel you. To feel the way you fight not to gag. But you wouldn’t fight, would you? Not for me.”
“No,” you breathed. You could hear the tell-tale sound of skin on skin on the other end of the line. “I’d take all of you.”
“Good girl.” The way he snarled it sent you spiralling, your body twitching under your own touch. “You’d look up at me while I play with your mouth, pretty eyes all messy, panties wrecked.”
“They already are,” you gasped, rubbing harder now, your heels digging into the bed. “I’m so close, Sev…”
“Don’t cum yet,” he snapped, voice cracking with restraint. “I want you to hold it.”
You cried out, hips bucking helplessly, your body rebelling at the command. On the comm, his breathing grew rougher, faster.
“I'm going to finish all over my gloves thinking about how you’d squeeze me,” he growled. “Dripping wet, spread out like how you are now. You want it, mesh’la? Want my mess on your stomach? In your mouth? On your sheets?”
“Yes, Sev, yes, please!”
“Say it again,” he panted, breath ragged. “Say my name.”
“Sev,” you whimpered. “Please, Sev, I need it! I need you.”
The sound that came through the comm was half-snarl, half-moan. Raw. Ruined.
“Now,” he purred. “Cum. Now. Let me hear you break.”
Your fingers stuttered and you shattered. You moaned his name like a prayer, your back arching off the bed, thighs trembling violently. Shudders surged through your body–from the tips of your toes to your scalp. Your eyes were clamped shut. It was messy, loud, shameless. You didn’t care. Couldn’t care.
Because Sev was moaning too.
You heard the strangled sound of his orgasm. Deep, feral, dragged from his chest like it was ripped from his very bones. The rhythmic wet sounds from his end faded, followed by a harsh gasp, then silence, both of you breathing like you’d run a marathon.
Then, you heard his voice again, smug and spent.
“Now you know what happens when you give me your number.”
Your chest heaved. “…And if I give you my name?”
There was a pause. You could practically hear his smirk through the line.
“Then tomorrow night, I show up at your door. And I finish what we started. With my hands. With my mouth. Whatever you like.”
You moaned softly, thighs still twitching.
“So?” he asked. “What’s your name, mesh’la?”
You licked your lips, still breathless, and whispered.
Read Part 1 Here!
Summary: It's been over a year since Sev left, but it still feels like just yesterday he was here. You're unsure what hurts more: the fact he left you or the fact that you can't let him go.
Delta Squad Week Day 7
Word Count: 4.0k
Warnings: grief/loss, fluff
A/N: @vrycurious requested a part 2 for Here and Gone and the Day 7 prompt for Delta Squad Week worked perfectly! This is my redemption arc for part 1 tbh.
thank you @deltasquadweek for hosting! this has been my first event i participated in and it has been so fun! i look forward to the next! i also hope @orangez3st enjoyed her week too ;)
join my taglist / masterlist
It's been weeks since you hiked to the outpost.
It wasn’t that you didn’t think of doing it, because you always did. Almost every second of every day, the want to lived at the edge of mind, just beyond the press of daily life. Most days, you suppressed the desire, but on days like today, you simply couldn't. Staying away from the ridge felt damn near impossible.
The climb was still steep, though your body remembered it better than your mind did. The path had grown wild in the months since the outpost operations were terminated. Weeds pressed through the cracks in the stones and vines curled around the rusted metal support beams. The Republic had packed up and moved on not long after Sev’s departure. All that remained was the lookout platform, slowly succumbing to weather and time.
You found yourself brushing aside overgrowth as you neared the top, as if clearing the way might make it easier to pretend that nothing had changed.
The small sniper outpost stood as a quiet relic of what once was. You sat where you always used to sit - near the post, at the edge of the platform, where you could see the whole valley below. The durasteel bench was slightly rusted now, its bolts loosened by the season's rain and wind.
Your fingers curled loosely around the edge of your jacket, reaching to your neck, and beneath the collar, to a simple necklace you made. It was a dainty gold chain with a small muted green polished stone, flecked with mineral gold. You’d found it almost a year ago while hiking. It was the same day Sev had let a rare flicker of curiosity cross his face when you told him you made jewelry out of rocks like that. When you reached down to grab the stone that day, you hadn’t even noticed him pocket a similar one near by.
Sev hadn’t been a talker, but you realized his silences had meaning. Especially the way he would shift slightly when you joined him or how his helmet would tilt when you spoke, like he was memorizing your voice more than your words. He had always listened to you in the most comforting ways, and some part of you had come to crave his quiet presence. Maybe more than just crave, but rely on.
And then he left with no warning, he was just gone.
You didn’t know why he had to leave. Not exactly at least. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to tell you. Maybe it hurt too much. Maybe there was no reason why he had to leave and it was simply because he is a solider and that is reason enough. Maybe you’d imagined more than what had been there. That thought used to cut the deepest. You’d play back every interaction, wondering if it had only mattered to you and if the warmth you thought he began to reserve for you had been nothing more than wishful thinking.
You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, watching a pair of birds dart through the trees below. As much it hurt, it was nice to imagine he was here again, right next to you.
You have never told anyone about him. Actually, you never even said his name out loud since he left. You weren’t sure you could without your voice breaking. Most of the memories felt like cracked glasses; you could look, you could hold them, but only if you were careful.
It had been over full year and still, almost every night, your thoughts drifted to where he might be. What stars he might be looking up at, or if the war had taken him somewhere worse. Maybe, he had someone else to sit with now.
You wondered what he would look like without the armor. What kinds of clothing he liked to wear when he wasn't in plastoid. On the worst nights your thoughts would go as deep as pondering whether his arms would fit perfectly around your waist or not. But you couldn't go beyond that. It hurt too much.
You exhaled slowly, your breath fogging in the cold air. Leaves rustled overhead, and something small darted through the underbrush. Although the ridge was still alive, it felt lonelier than ever.
You didn’t cry anymore when you came up here. You just sat in silence. Not necessarily waiting for anything, but hoping that wherever in the galaxy Sev was, maybe you crossed his mind too. Even if it was only for the briefest moment.
Once, not long after he left, you carved a small, shallow single scratch mark into the railing where you used to sit beside him. It was a mark only you would recognize, as if you could leave a piece of yourself behind the same way he had. Sometimes, you touched it when you arrived.
You ran your thumb over your necklace once more, eyes fixed on the horizon. Distant clouds shifted in the sky, covering what little sunlight remained. The incoming rain would soon force you from your sacred spot. So, you got up and began the hike down the ridge, pausing momentarily to look back at the outpost. Its emptiness felt like a taunt, breaking you heart once again as you continued on.
He thought about you every day.
You lived in the quiet corners of all of his thoughts. Whether it was in the soft silence between missions or in the breath he took before firing another round at a droid. The way you laughed, the way you smiled, the way the ground crunched under your feet, the way you were always so excited to bring him fruit. He hated how much he vividly remembered.
And it all started just moments after he left you at the outpost.
He would daydream of the the faint rustle of your jacket when you sat beside him and the way you tilted your head when you asked a question. But, above all, he couldn't let go of the the way you looked at him. You were the first person who looked at him in such a way that made him feel not like a soldier, but like a man worth noticing.
That alone had disarmed him unlike ever before.
It wasn't long after he returned from the outpost on that dreadful day, that his brothers began to notice slight the shift in Sev's demeanor. He became more withdrawn, quieter, and more brittle at the edges. As the weeks drew on and Sev only dug himself deeper and deeper into his newfound dreadful state.
When Sev no longer joined the Squad for meals at the mess, Scorch finally decided that whatever was bothering Sev, was going on for entirely too long.
Of course, when Scorch asked Sev what had gotten into him since the outpost abandonment, Sev said it was nothing. Probably just a stomach bug. Scorch knew that was a lie, but knowing Sev, he just assumed it would slip out of eventually.
But it never did. The truth was that he’d left a part of himself behind at the outpost on that ridge.
For Sev, time moved slower without you, and it was agonizing. Yet somehow, he laid awake in his bunk at night, realizing its been over a year since he left you.
He reached into the waistband pocket of his blacks and pulled out a small muted green polished stone, flecked with mineral gold. He picked it up one day while walking with one, long before he knew the Republic was pulling out. You had pointed out a similar looking one with a casual comment about making jewelry. He waited for you to reach down and turn away before he pocketed the one he now has. It became the only softness he allowed himself, and in that moment, he wasn't ready to share that softness.
After a botched mission, when one of his brothers was hurt, or in any of his worst moments, he would reach for it. The stone always found its way into his hand. He wouldn’t look at it or even take it out of his waistband, but the feeling of it against his fingers comforted him. It reminded him of the comfort he used to have.
Sev rolled over in his bunk, looking at his sleeping squad around him. He wasn't suprised that they all fell asleep fast upon returning from the last mission - it was long, brutal and hot.
But Sev couldn't help but envy Boss, Fixer and Scorch. He envied that they were probably dreaming of all the fun they were bound to have during their hard-earned upcoming extended shore leave.
Sev hasn't dreamed since he last saw you. Instead, he just had nightmares. Nightmares of all the things he should have done. He should have stayed. He should have given you a proper goodbye. He should have held your hand sooner. He should have hugged you - kissed you even. He should have asked you if you wanted more. Kriff. He should have just talked to you more, given you more. But he didn't.
He was scared back then. He was scared of what it meant to want something that couldn’t be ordered. Scared of how real it felt and of how badly he wanted to stay with you.
War always made decisions for him. It told him when to leave, where to go, who to be. But you, you made him want to choose. That was something he assumed he wasn’t ready for back then.
Sev exhaled. Something inside him cracked. He shifted himself to the edge of his bunk and stood slowly, giving the room a quick scan. His brothers were sound asleep, curled in exhaustion.
“Kriff it,” he muttered, putting his armor on and reaching under his bunk for a supplypack before slinging it over his back. Quietly, he made his way to the door, giving his vods one last look before the door hissed shut behind him.
The first challenge was figuring out how to get there.
He didn’t have clearance or orders, but he did have the ability to listen well enough that when he caught a half-heard whisper in the hangar about a routine supply run to a specific planet in the Outer Rim, he knew it was it only shot.
No one noticed when he lingered just a little too long behind the crates and when an hour before departure, a full crate got “accidentally” left off the manifest. And certainly no one noticed when a silent, armored figure climbed inside, sealed the lid, and stilled his breath.
Sev stayed in that crate through the entire trip.
It wasn’t comfortable. The air was growing thin he didn’t mind. He just spent a year steeped in discomfort. What was a little more? He didn’t move until the crate was hauled off the ship and left in the open air. The moment he heard transport teams walk away, he popped the lid and rolled out silently, crouching behind a stack of cargo until he found the perfect moment to break toward his old outpost on the ridge.
The walk felt longer than it had any right to. He skirted the edges of the trails, his heart hammering against the armor that had carried him through too many battles since the last time he stood here. As the ridge came into view, Sev slowed. The outpost looked much older from all the weathering. Some of the stone edging had cracked and vines crept along the seams, but it was still standing. He stepped through the entrance and let the quiet hit him.
It felt like walking into a memory. He moved meticulously through the single roomed outpost, his fingers brushing against the walls like they might hum with your presence.
Then he saw it, some sort of new mark etched in the railing. Someone had been here. Sev look another look around. The first layer of dust had been disturbed. There were faint footprints, too small to be his scattered around. On the old table, a half-empty canteen was opened.
You had come back. He stood in the center of the room and let it sink in. For a moment, all he could do was close his eyes.
Sev inhaled sharply, looking down at his armor. He shrugged off his pack, placing it gently against the wall, and peeling off of his armor piece by piece. In this moment, the process felt more like shedding than dressing down. He reached inside for a spare t-shirt and tugged it over his head. The fabric clung to his shoulders. It was unfamiliar compared to the plastoid plates he usually wore, but it felt right.
Outside, the breezes picked up and he stepped into the sunlight, taking a deep breath before catching a glimpse of wildflowers in the corner of his eye.
They grew in bright little clumps along the sidewalls of the outpost. Although they looked small and delicate, all the shades of purples, blues, yellows and whites, defiantly blooming in the cracks of ancient stone reminded Sev of you. He reached out and plucked a few.
He didn’t really know what he was doing. It just felt like the right thing to do. Almost like somehow, it might make a difference. He bound them into a small, uneven bundle using some old twine that was abandoned in the outpost before returning back outside.
Sev sat down on the rusted stairs, flowers resting in his lap, and waited. Maybe you’d come, maybe not. Regardless, for the first time in a long, long time, he let himself hope.
You took the climb like it was any other day.
Your steps were worn into the path by habit and memory by now. You hadn’t expected anything different. This was just where you went sometimes when it got too quiet in the village or when the ache of remembering him felt less like pain and more like ritual.
You walked with your hands in your pockets, not really thinking, letting the wind fill in the silence you’d long made peace with. The outpost came into view, just as battered and sun-worn as always. Your chest began to ache as you took the final turn in the path. It was an unusual, new sensation, but you quickly brushed it off. When you reached the top, you let your gaze trail up to the outpost stairs, then stilled.
He was there.
Sitting on the rusted stairs like no time had passed at all. Helmet gone, armor no where in sight. His shoulders were slouched, his hands loosely folded around wildflowers in his lap. He looked like he’d been waiting for hours. Maybe longer.
Your breath stopped. Suddenly, all you could hear was your heartbeat roaring in your ears. Somehow, you continued towards him.
His head shot up. Sev’s eyes locked on you, wide and stunned, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. Almost like this was his dream now.
You froze and your heart stopped. You brought a hand to your mouth, your eyes closing, overwhelmed by the sudden weight of seeing him again. It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t be real. He’d been gone for so long. It felt like this was the galaxy's sick twisted way of telling you that he was lost to the war. You’d come up here to miss him in peace, not this.
Until he moved.
He was on his feet in an instant. The flowers tumbled from his grip, settling on one of the steps. He crossed the distance in long, urgent strides. You could see it in the way he walked, like something inside him had cracked open and couldn’t be held back anymore. He didn’t quite run, but there was desperation in every step.
You just stood there, your hand still over your mouth like you were on the verge of collapsing to your knees at any moment.
He stopped just shy of you before wrapping his arms around you. The way Sev placed his arms felt diliberiate. Like the kind of placement that is held sacred between only two people. His arms came around your back in one motion, crushing you against him. One hand curled at the base of your spine, the other cradled the back of your head. His chest rose and fell against yours like he was struggling to breathe. You could feel the trembling in his fingers. You didn’t even realize you were crying until your cheek was pressed to his shoulder and you tasted salt on your lips.
He pressed his mouth to your ear. His voice was barely more than breath, "I love you."
You stiffened, not from fear, but from the sheer shock of it. Sev never spoke first. He never even spoke much in general, and for those to be the first worst spoken between you after all this time... You pulled back slightly, blinking up at him and saw it.
His smile.
It cracked across his face like sunlight through stormclouds. It was broad and uncontained. Sev, who never smiled more than a twitch, who spoke with silence more than words was beaming.
"I love you," he said again, louder this time, like he needed you to hear it, like he needed to hear it himself, like he needed the wind to carry it across the planet.
Your mouth opened. You tried to say something, his name maybe, but your voice caught in your throat. You tried again and succeed, "Sev." It came out like like a wish come true.
His grip on you tightened. His eyes searched your face with such raw, open joy you thought it might undo you completely.
"I love you," he blurted out a third time, practically shouting it now, "and I have been wanting to shout that from this very spot every single day since I last stood here." And then he began to laugh. Sev was holding you, beaming, telling you he loves you, and laughing.
It cracked something open in you.
You let out a sob-laugh of your own, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, and then you were both laughing, clutching at each other like you might float off the ridge if you let go. He was warm, solid, real. You buried your face in his neck and laughed until your cheeks ached.
He cupped your face in both hands, thumbs brushing away tears you hadn’t noticed, and finally kissed you.
Sev's kiss was soft, confident and unhurried. The kind of kiss that said he’d waited too long, and he wasn’t going to waste another second. The kind that tasted like forgiveness and home and a thousand unsaid things finally set free.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, and let out a shaky breath. You could feel his smile in the closeness between you.
"I've been needing to tell you that," he confessed, debating whether to keep smiling, kiss you again, or both.
You smiled back at him, your hands still cupping his jaw, "Sev-"
He cut you off, kissing you one more time, longer, deeper, like he meant to make up for every day he’d lost. When the kiss broke, he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering, "I'm sorry I'll let you talk now."
The warmth of his hands still lingered on your skin. You could feel the ghost of his kiss in every place he’d touched, your mouth, your cheeks, your heart. The stars had started to rise behind him, scattered and soft, like they’d slowed just to watch you both. Your fingers trailed down the side of his face, reluctant to let go. He leaned into your touch like he’d been starving for it. You were left utterly speechless. But that was okay. The silence that fell between you was the kind of silence that let love settle in the spaces where words didn’t need to go.
You smiled, still breathless and dizzy from him.
But one question had been pressing on your chest since the moment you saw him. “What now?” you whispered, resting your head on his un-armored chest.
Sev blinked slowly. His smile didn’t vanish, but pressed into something softer. He brought his hand up to cradle the side of your neck, his thumb brushing against the side of your head.
“What now?” he repeated, as if tasting your words, “now I never leave you without saying goodbye.”
“I stay,” he added, quieter this time, “If you'll have me.”
“I don’t want to be in a world without you,” you rasped against him, trying to push yourself closer into him
He exhaled, a shaky, shuddering sound, almost like you’d given him permission to breathe for the first time in months, “Then maybe we don’t need figure it all out tonight.”
You raised an eyebrow and pursed your lips, “No?”
He shook his head, a small smirk teasing at the corner of his mouth, “We can talk about the galaxy, the war, the ‘what nexts’ tomorrow.”
You laughed gently, “So what do we do tonight?”
His eyes flicked over your shoulder before his smirk broke into a full grin, “Is that what I think it is?”
You turned, following his gaze. Your stash of thick blankets and a small weather-worn crate you’d set up as a makeshift bench weeks ago sat right where the outpost wall met the stone ridge, angled toward the stars.
“Maybe,” you playfully confirmed, walking your fingers up his chest, “I like to be cozy when I’m stargazing.”
“Smart,” Sev winked, “Very tactical of you. Commando-approved.”
You nudged him with your shoulder, and he caught your hand again, not letting you go far. His thumb moved across your knuckles as if memorizing them.
“Just when I thought I’d be alone tonight,” you confessed, holding his hand tighter.
“So did I," he shrugged, tugging your arm to pull you into him.
You leaned into his side embrace, “But you came back to me.”
“I had to.”
There was a small flutter in your chest as you both walked toward the blankets, side by side, hands intertwined like it had always been meant to be that way.
He let you sit first, then followed, shrugging off the extra jacket he’d thrown on earlier. He stretched out beside you, pulled you gently against him, and helped you spread the thicket blanket over both your shoulders. You settled into his arms like you’d done it a thousand times before.
The wind was cool, but he was warmer than you remembered, even though you've never been quite this close. You inhaled deeply, letting the scent of him fill your lungs while he kissed the crown of your head.
“I missed this,” you whispered, allowing your senses to fully take in the moment.
“I. Missed. You." he replied between temple kissed.
You tilted your head to look at him, and his expression melted into something gentle. There was no armor here, just Sev. The man who you once watched from across a ridge. The man who remembered the sound of your laugh and the stone you touched once. The man who’d carried love in silence for too long.
You kissed him again, this time slow and sweet. Without urgency and fear, because time was yours. When you pulled back, his smile was lazy and content.
“Maker,” his voice was full of awe, “I love you.”
Your heart soared, “I love you too.”
He closed his eyes, forehead brushing yours again, “Then we’ve got time to make up for.”
You tucked your body in closer, his arms wrapping tighter around you, the blanket cocooning you both against the breeze.
As the stars wheeled slowly overhead and the wildflowers rustled softly in the night, you both stayed there. For the first time in his live, Sev forgot about the war and fully immersed himself in just the two of you, wrapped in warmth, laughter, and something that finally felt like peace.
Tomorrow would come of course, but galaxy could wait. Tonight was yours.
