#sunburst squadron

[jangofctts]

i realized i never posted this so dhdkdn yikes sorry—anyway

my oc sweets is on the left and on the right is jaws!

[writing-with-whiplash]

Holding On

“Holding On”

Hey guys! This is a fanfic of @jangofctts amazing clone oc Sweets! Go check out her awesome clone oc’s by searching for “sunburst squadron” on her blog and also check out all the other amazing fics she has! Sweets is her creation. I do not own his character, I’m just writing for him.

Sweets x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY-- Not explicit, but a sexual situation, a little spicy, implied smut; lap dance; swearing; friends to lovers; lemme know if I missed anything!

Summary: Reader, a friend of the Sunburst Squadron, gives Sweets a private dance

Author’s note: The songs I had in mind for the dance were “Movement” by Hozier and “Hold On” by Brooke Annibale if you want to listen ;) 

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

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The night had started out like many nights on Coruscant with the Sunburst Squadron. Most of the boys wanted to go out to 79’s--per usual--and they finally convinced you to go with them. Clubs and the usual nightlife of the big planet-wide city weren’t really your thing, the strobe lights, loud music, and crowds of drunken partiers being much less preferable to your calm nights on base. You spent most nights murmuring encouragements to the poor soldiers in the med bay, reviewing paperwork for Void and Blanche so they wouldn’t overwork themselves, or hanging in the target range with Sweets. At the moment, you desperately wished to be in the target range.

The bass coming from the surround-sound speakers was cranked up so high you could feel the vibrations in your tummy and the glass in your hand. Troopers and civies alike paraded about the tightly packed bar, wiggling to the beat like intoxicated sardines. You simply shook your head, nursing your only drink of the night. You had told the boys that you just wanted a little buzz and they didn’t pressure you into getting more while they ordered round after round. Blue and Jaws were already slumped in the booth, although you couldn’t fathom how they could possibly sleep with all the noise going on. Max was chatting up some cute stranger at the bar and by the looks of it, he wasn’t coming back to the barracks with the rest of the group tonight. Blanche had entrusted you with making sure his boys made it back to base, but you knew you couldn’t pry Max away from his prize. Scanning the humid bar for the rest of the squad, you saw Bruiser in the midst of an arm wrestling match. His boisterous laugh barely carried above the pounding music as he smashed his opponent’s knuckles onto the sticky table, earning himself another small pile of credits. You made a mental note to make sure no one tried to pick a fight with him over money throughout the evening. Kami was a little harder to find, tucked away in a shadowed corner as he received a not-so-subtle lap dance from a pretty twi’lek girl. Fuse, the last member of the squad who decided to go out, sat nestled in the booth right next to you, bouncing to the beat of whatever was playing. He watched your gaze linger on Kami and the girl.

Scooting closer to you, he hollered, “Jealous, eh?”

“Jealous of what?” you hollered back. Fuse smirked and nodded his head toward the pair just as the dancer lowered herself in Kami’s lap, swirling her hips in time with the song. It hit you that Fuse thought you liked Kami. “Jealous of her? Fuck no! I’m not after Kami.” You shook your head and downed the rest of your drink, the alcohol burning your throat before settling in your tummy. When Fuse gave you a look of obvious disbelief you leaned back over to him. “I don’t like him! I just--” You paused for a second, debating whether or not to tell your friend about why you kept looking back at the pair. His expectant gaze implored you to continue. “I just wish I could do something like that. Dance like that.” You shook your head again, bracing for some teasing comment from Fuse. The trooper simply stared.

“What makes you think you can’t?” His brow furrowed as you shrugged, not wanting to open up about your insecurities in the middle of the bar. “What, do you think you’re not good enough or something?”

The concerned expression on your friend’s face made you cave. “I just don’t feel confident enough to pull something like that off. I’m awkward and clumsy and she’s so pretty and he’s so into it and I don’t know how to do anything like that. I don’t know how to make someone be into me like that.” 

Fuse’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Girl, you could captivate any guy in this bar if you danced like that. And I know you could do it. I know you could!” Fuse shouted in your ear. “That dress you’re wearing is already stunning. You could take any of these guys home with just a sway of your hips. Why don’t you believe in yourself?”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks as Fuse’s words settled in your ears. You could take any of them home just like that? You shook your head a little at the thought. There’s no way it could be that easy. You were too stiff and nervous to have prowess like that. Besides, the only trooper you wanted was still back at the base, most likely spending his night alone with his sniper rifle in the shooting range. Fuse snatched your mind from the enveloping quiet of the range and shoved it back into the dingy club.

“Maybe you just need some practice,” he purred, scooting impossibly closer and wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Shut up!” You shoved his shoulder at the insinuation, although you knew he wasn’t serious. Fuse cackled with laughter, lightly shoving you back. Your ankle wobbled as you took the weight of the shove on your high heel, damn the skinny things. They looked great, but at what cost? “I have practiced, thank you very much.” As soon as the words left your mouth you regretted telling him. If the air in the bar had been a little thicker, you supposed you could have snatched the words right out of it and popped them back in your traitorous mouth, but they had already entered Fuse’s ears. 

Fuse’s mouth formed a little ‘o’. “And just who have you been practicing with? Honey, I can give you all the tips you need on how to dance like that.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. There was no way in the galaxy you were about to tell Fuse you had spent several lonely evenings practicing a dance on an empty chair. The mirror you danced in front of did nothing to boost your confidence--only betraying wobbly legs and stiff arms. The sensual sway of the music you picked never influenced your movements. It simply made them seem more clunky and out of place. The flimsy armchair rocked dangerously beneath you every time you leaned against it, lacking the anchor of an audience. You had actually slipped off it once, and when Void asked you why you needed bacta for the large bruise blooming across your side, you made up a story about running into your desk in the middle of the night. To make matters worse, you weren’t sure if the audience you always imagined would even want a dance from you. 

Sweets was so shy and quiet. Although he didn’t talk much when you first met him, it only took a couple of days for you to fall completely head over heels for him. After several weeks of working with the team, he had started talking to you about local flora he found on missions and let you watch him in the gun range. You got as close as he would let you, but you had no idea if he reciprocated your feelings. The thought of him refusing you--of him shutting you out--always made your stomach plummet as you tried to sway your hips over the empty chair. You could just see his face freeze at your offer of a private dance--how he would withdraw within himself with a disgusted look and never talk to you again. There’s no way he would ever want you or agree, so why should you risk your friendship over a stupid little dance? 

Fuse ripped you from your spiraling thoughts with a snap of his fingers before your nose. “Ground control to sad girl, do you copy?” You flicked his hand away, trying to rid your mind of its noise. “Come on, I know you. You’re sitting here telling yourself that you can’t do it so much that you’ve convinced yourself not to try at all. And I’m here to tell you that you can do it. Any guy would be lucky to get a dance from you, you hear? Any guy. So who’s the lucky one you’ve been practising for, huh?” 

“I wouldn’t tell you for a million credits,” you shot at him. It was true. The idea of Fuse knowing that you had feelings--and unprofessional thoughts--for his brother were mortifying, not only because of the storm of teasing to follow, but because of the possibility of some of the other squad members finding out, namely the squad member in question. Fuse was unpredictable. 

“I think I know who it is anyway,” Fuse waggled his eyebrows, “and he’s not here with us tonight.” A knowing smirk spread across his face as you shrank back, stomach falling to the dirty barroom floor. “Don’t worry, I’ll never tell Sweets you like him. You’re going to be the one to tell him. No, no, don’t shake your head at me. I’ve seen how you look at him. I’ve also seen how he looks at you when you can’t see him.”

Your head shot up. Sweets looked at you like that? Impossible. The words coming from Fuse’s mouth had to be wrong. The beat of your heart outpaced the music as you desperately hoped he was right. After all the months of becoming friends with Sweets, all the sleepless nights dreaming of his arms around you, his lips on your lips, you couldn’t throw everything away just because Fuse thought Sweets liked you back. But your heart lurched, urging you to give in to your feelings. What would happen if you never told him? You very well could lose him that way, too. The thought of that happening hurt even more, causing determination to dissolve the pit you carried in your stomach. Adrenaline flowed through your veins as you promised yourself to see this through. 

“I’m ready to head back to base.” You stretched and checked your watch. Blanche would not be happy if you brought the boys back too late, and by the looks of Blue and Jaws’ drooling faces, it was going to take a while to get into a cab. 

“Where’s Max?” Fuse wondered aloud, scanning the bar as he pulled his comm out. 

“I think he had company to attend to. I’ll get Bruiser. You can handle Kami.” You left Fuse in the booth before he could protest, eager to get back to base before your nerves convinced you to back out. Bruiser didn’t want to leave his winning streak, but the threat of Blanche’s wrath had him shoving credits into his pockets and heading toward the door. Max had indeed left with his date and Kami begrudgingly left his dancer to help you and Fuse haul the other two onto the small transport. 

Anxieties swirled up from your stomach and into your heart, melting your shoes to the transport floor. You could have let them flood you, drowning out your true feelings and wants in a tidal wave of insecurities and disbelief; instead, you distracted yourself by focusing on the city lights passing by. No matter how much you tried to steel yourself, the waves of doubt lapped at the sides of your stomach, threatening to dissolve you from within. As you drew closer to base, you became more and more nervous until you began to shake. Fuse surprised you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“You got this,” he smiled. “I believe in you. You’re going to do great and he’s going to love it. Trust me on that.” You simply nodded, biting your lower lip to keep it from trembling. 

Sooner than you had hoped, the transport arrived at base. Although Fuse had tried to bolster you again, your knees wobbled and stomach churned as you led the boys back to the barracks. Blanche was waiting for you at the door, nodding at you and failing to hide a yawn behind his hand. You hadn’t meant to return so late. Part of you began to wonder if Sweets was even still awake. No matter what was going to happen tonight, the adrenaline rushing through you wasn’t about to let you sleep any time soon. Just as you hoped that maybe he had gone to sleep already, sparing you from potentially making a fool of yourself, Sweets walked down the hall from the gun range. Your stomach lurched when you saw him, sending little shivers down your spine. You waved at him a little awkwardly and he waved back, touseling his curls a bit before shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket. Fuse cast you one last smirk and helped Blanche herd their brothers toward the bunks. 

“Fun night?” Sweets asked softly, watching the others stumble and weave their way down the empty hall. 

“Maybe for them,” you replied, your voice too quiet. You clenched your hands to keep them from shaking and hoped Sweets didn’t notice. Unfortunately, he did. You couldn’t decide if  it was excitement or nervousness that caused your stomach to tighten at his next action--Sweets grasped your hands in his own. His long, slender fingers intertwined with your own trembling ones and before you could stop yourself, you imagined what they would feel like in other places. Sweets stepped closer to you, his breath fanning across your hair as he tilted his head to the side. 

“You ok?” he murmured. His thumb traced circles across your knuckles, causing you to involuntarily shiver. Sweets took that as a “no” and pulled you into his chest. “Did something happen while you were out?” 

“No.” The word barely escaped your mouth as a whisper into the collar of his hoodie. “I’m just tense is all.” 

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

An idea formed as soon as he spoke. Before you could let it be drowned in nervousness and doubt, you asked him: “Would you dance with me for a little bit? The bar was super crowded and loud and I just want to move around a little bit.” Your heart thudded so hard in your chest at Sweets’ silence that you were certain he could feel it. “Just maybe not out in the hall,” you added quietly. He huffed a small laugh at that, grabbing your hand again to pull you down the corridor.

“Come on.” 

Sweets lead you into his sanctuary: the shooting range. It was completely empty at this hour of the night. Instead of leading you to the target area, Sweets took you up to the observation room. It sat behind the range floor and up a flight of stairs, meaning less opportunity for intrusion. You silently hoped the range would stay empty tonight.

Sweets flicked the dim lights on and you pulled out your pocket music drive, selecting a soft but upbeat playlist. The two of you began to move on your own a little awkwardly from opposite sides of the room, but you gravitated towards each other as the song picked up. Soon, you were giggling as Sweets spun you in circles around him. The knot in your stomach loosened as he laughed with you. The fabric of your dress lifted and flowed with each spin and sway of your hips, making you loosen up a little just to feel it sweep around the tops of your thighs. As you began another twirl around him your ankle gave way above your flimsy high heel. Faster than a shot from his own rifle, Sweets caught you and pulled you into his arms. Your breath shook as you collided with his firm chest, heat tingling in your cheeks...and between your thighs. 

“Maybe you should take those off,” he hummed. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

You breathlessly agreed, kicking the offensive shoes into the corner. Sweets chuckled and pulled you into a slow dance, one hand on the middle of your spine while the other traced small circles into your lower back. Maker, he was going to be the end of you. You laced your fingers behind his neck, trying to calm down as you swayed back and forth. Sweets’ gracefulness on the battlefield had captivated you, almost causing you to get shot on multiple occasions as you watched him instead of paying attention to the battle, and it was no different as he swayed before you.

 “Feeling better?” The words vibrated in his chest, drawing you even closer to him. “I’ll dance with you for as long as you like.” 

You hummed against him. “I’m feeling better, but I want to stay here a while.” The pair of you stood closer than you had ever been before, and it nearly took your breath away. A particularly sensual song came up on the playlist--one that you had practiced your dance to many times--as well as the song immediately following it on the queue. It was now or never. “Sweets, would you like a dance from me?” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as your voice squeaked, too afraid of his answer. 

“I thought we were dancing,” Sweets said in a small, questioning voice. You could almost curse his endearing innocence. 

Letting out a nervous giggle you tried to subtly elaborate. “Yes, we are, but I was wondering if you would want me to dance for you.” 

When Sweets seemed to ponder your question in silence, you took it a step further. Lightly, you brushed your hips against his in time with the song, gazing up at him with hooded eyes and parted lips. Sweets’ eyes widened as the realization of what you meant sank it. You watched his Adam’s apple bounce as he gulped, nervousness creeping up from your belly. Finally convincing yourself that you fucked up, that he didn’t want you and would shut you out for good, you shrank away from him, the words I’m sorry just beginning to escape your trembling lips. Before you could slip away and fade from existence, Sweets grabbed you, pressing his fingers lightly into your hips. You snapped your head to find his normally calm eyes beginning to darken. He immediately closed his eyes as a deep flush spread across his face, nodding quickly. Relief flooded you, as well as a new kind of nervousness. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. You could do this. 

With every beat of the music you pushed Sweets gently backwards until he sat in one of the observation chairs. You took another deep breath, going back to all the nights you practiced to this very song. Only this time, you actually had your dream audience sitting before you, darting his tongue out to wet his plush lips. Closing your eyes, you ran your hands across your hips, allowing your muscles to loosen up as you swayed. As the song picked up so did your hips, beginning swirling motions as your hands continued to travel across the front of your dress. Sweets audibly gasped as you lightly cupped your breasts, his eyes tracking every move of your fingers as they deftly kneaded the soft flesh. You knew you had to keep him on his toes, wanting more throughout the whole routine, so you stepped around the chair, trailing your hand across his shoulder and throat as you moved around him. He tried to turn and follow your movement but you turned his face back to the empty room with a light touch against his jaw. His breath shook as you leaned against him from behind, just barely pressing your soft chest to the back of his head. You giggled at his reaction, ghosting your hands down his chest through the thick fabric of his hoodie. 

“You wanna take this off for me, baby?” you cooed into his ear. Sweets nearly smacked you in the face as he rushed to throw the hoodie across the room. A laugh escaped you even as you tried to cover it with your hand and Sweets turned around at the soft sound of it. He smiled sheepishly, eyes crinkling at the corners. You leaned around to press a quick kiss to the heart on his his warm cheek and he immediately whipped his head back to the front, the blush from his face beginning to creep down his neck. 

The song kicked up a notch as you made your way around the other side of the chair. You spun before your captivated audience in a slow, tantalizing twirl, running your hands from your breasts all the way back to cup your ass through your skirt as you turned your back to him. By the time you turned back around to face him, hands trailing down your thighs to lift the dress’ hem up a little, Sweets had leaned forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees. You paced toward him with an exaggerated walk, reaching forward to press him back into the chair. Nudging his feet a little further apart, you stood between his legs, rotating your hips toward him. Sweets’ hands shot up, stopping to hover on either side of your hips. He looked up at you, dark eyes searching for the permission to touch you. 

“Hold on to me,” you whispered to him. His strong fingers kneaded your soft hips as he pulled you closer to him, pressing his nose to the soft curve of your belly. You let out a breathy giggle and carded your hands through his curls. He let out a quiet moan at that, encouraging you to continue. The song on your music drive changed and the beat became slower, deeper.

You gently grabbed Sweets’ face, pulling his head further up your body as your hips swept in bigger circles, almost brushing against his chest. He buried his nose between your breasts, pressing a soft kiss to the skin your dress exposed. A high pitched whine left you and you pulled his hands up to your chest, lowering yourself into his lap. Every touch he gave you sent chills down your spine; hundreds of butterflies bursting from your stomach fluttered across your skin, exploding into stardust in your eyes. You raked your nails lightly across his scalp and down the back of his neck, finally settling on the thin fabric covering his chest as you swirled your hips against his. Sweets arched his body into yours, groaning softly at the contact. He pressed kisses up your throat as you continued your smooth movements, reaching up to pull your face to his. You pressed your forehead to his teal bangs, nudging your noses together as you closed your eyes. This night could not have been more perfect in your mind. Your whole body shuddered as Sweets ran his hands lightly up and down your back, settling again at your hips. 

“Can I kiss you?” he breathed against your lips, voice quavering. 

Maybe this night could be more perfect. You leaned forward to capture his lips with your own, keeping your hands against the back of his neck to press him to you. Sweets moaned into your mouth, shuddering as you fully ground down into his lap. Yes, this night was about to get even more perfect.                

[starlightrows]

Ready or Not

Pairing: Blanche x f!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Explicit 18+ only! Fingering, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, no protection (wrap it before you tap it!), mentions of grief and loss, angst, non explicit description of violent injury, blood, more angst, fluff

Inspired by: 1 2 3

AN: I have been wanting to write this fic since freakin January, but I knew I wanted it to be perfect so I kept putting it off... working on it for a bit... hiding from it... working on it some more... rereading the inspiration asks and story notes I made. And then one day I was like, fuck it. I have to do this. I’m putting everything else on hold, because Blanche deserves to be unapologetically loved, god damn it! I will die on this hill! (Can you tell he’s my favorite?) This is also the first time I’ve ever attempted to write smut. That being said, this got way out of hand, and it’s so much longer than I ever intended for it to be, but I put my heart and soul into this. Also, @jangofctts Mama Keida I will never ever be able to thank you enough for creating the Sunburst Squadron and for giving us the divine privilege of writing content for them.

Extra AN: Hey ⚡️ anon (I’ve been calling you Sparky for the past couple months), this was the first fic I ever wanted to write for the Sunburst Boys and it’s based off your ask! So this one goes out to you Sparky!

From the moment you’re assigned to the 343rd, Blanche knows he’s in trouble. An experienced, well trained, highly regarded captain… who just so happens to be a beautiful woman. Trouble indeed.

General Tavik told him that your previous squadron took extremely heavy casualties, and that only you and one other survived. She told him to expect the transition to a new squad to be difficult given the loss was so recent.

On the day of your transfer, Blanche made sure his brothers are spiffed up and on their best behavior. “She is a highly sought after officer,” Blanche reminded them, “at least try to make it seem like we’re worth her effort."

Upon your arrival, Blanche found that you were nothing like he expected. As weeks passed you proved to be every bit the capable and intelligent Captain the squad was promised. But instead of the broken, withdrawn soldier he’d become following his own experience with loss, you surprised him. You were vivacious and outgoing from the very beginning. You got along well with every single one of his brothers, took to your new role quickly, and seemed to make the unit function more smoothly. You were easy going, smart as a whip, funny as hell, and kriffing gorgeous. Oh yeah, Blanche was in trouble for sure.

“Commander?” Your voice rings out in the quiet of his quarters through his com device. His heart jumps, not only at the surprise of the sudden sound but at the prospect of an interaction with you.

“Go ahead Captain,” he answers after a moment to compose himself.

“The General has left me with a pile of requisition forms and data backups, looks like more than a few of them need your signature and approval. I know it’s a bit late, but if you have the time…” you trail off.

“I’m not busy,” he blurts out, “I-I mean, you can come down to my quarters and I’ll take care of you.”

I’ll take care of you? He thought, I’m such a fucking idiot.

“Great! I’ll be there in 5 minutes,” you reply happily. Oh good, maybe you didn’t notice how fucking creepy that sounded.

Just like you’d said, 5 minutes later there is a light tap on the door. Blanche calls for you to enter, and finds that he can not stop himself from staring as you walk in.

“Um… do you mind if I sit?” You ask, indicating the chair beside him.

Idiot, he thought to himself, stop staring and get to work.

“Of course,” he says.

You sit down next to him and place three data pads down on the small desk. You quickly explain what documents are on each one, and which require his signature for each.

“It must have taken you hours to file these reports,” he comments.

You laugh lightly, and continue tapping away on a fourth data pad in your lap. “The joys of command right? All the prestige and all the paperwork that comes with it."

“It’s not all on you to do this though, as the other senior member of command on this squadron these responsibilities fall to both of us,” his gaze meets yours, and he can see the slight look of guilt in your eye.

“Yes, I suppose it does,” you say quietly, suddenly dropping his gaze “I uh- I tend to take on a lot of extra work when dealing with other things."

Blanche understands this wholeheartedly, isn’t that exactly what he’d been doing for the last year and half? “Your first squad?” He asks gently, setting aside the datapad.

You smile at your hands, still avoiding his gaze. “Yes. The 242nd. They were like a family to me. I never had brothers or sisters growing up. But they were like the older brothers I always wanted." You look up suddenly. “Not that the 343rd isn’t wonderful. You’ve all welcomed me with open arms. You just, never forget your first squad, ya know?"

“I know what you mean. We had a 9th member of the squad originally. Even though we’re all brothers… he was mine. He was my little brother,” Blanche surprises himself at his own admission. This is the first time ever since losing Max he’s spoken openly about him.

“I don’t really understand The Force and all that stuff the Jedi use and live by,” you say “But, for the sake of our loved ones, I hope they’re right. I hope your brother and mine have found peace on the other side,”

“Sometimes I think he’s watching over me,” Blanche laughs. “Feels like he’s right there, urging me to step out of my comfort zone or make the right choice."

“See that’s exactly what I don’t want,” you giggle. “I don’t need my brothers looking down at me from the beyond when I’m trying to… uh… be productive” you waggle your eyebrows at him. When Blanche realizes just how close the two of you were sitting together, heat flushes his cheeks and he leans in a bit closer.

“Productive…” he muses, “Then let’s hope they’re not looking,” he dips his head down and captures your lips.

His lips are full and plush, save for the tiny scar on the left side that quirks downward and tickles just a bit in its variant texture. His large hand comes up to cup your face, just as his tongue slides past your lips tasting you.

You moan into the kiss, enjoying it immensely but craving more. You slide forward on the chair, he takes the hint and pulls you up into his lap to straddle him. Experimentally he runs his hands up and down your sides, climbing higher and higher until they’re resting on the outer curve of your breasts. He takes your continued moaning and fervent kisses to be an indication to proceed, he squeezes your breasts through the material of your thin shirt. You roll your hips against him in response, and reach back to unclasp your bra. He tugs your shirt up, over your head and revels in the opportunity to take one of your nipples in his mouth, tweaking and pulling at the other with his fingers.

“Commander.” Your hot breath tickles the shell of his ear, as you roll your hips again.

“Tell me what you want,” he pulls his head up, releasing your breast, and drops his hands down to grip your hips, stopping you from your ceaseless teasing. “If you want something, you have to ask for it."

You whimper at the loss of sensation, how ever little of it you had given all the layers of clothing separating you. “Touch me."

“You’ll have to be a little more specific,” he nips at your neck, teasing you back. You whimper at the attention but can’t find the words to express what you want.

“Fingers,” you manage to get out. “I want you to use your fingers."

He suddenly stands up, bringing you up with him. “Hmm, good girl,” he growls in your ear. He takes the few steps necessary to get to the bed, and drops you down onto it a little more roughly than he had intended. He leans back over to continue kissing you, as he works your pants and underwear off.

Your mouth falls open as his large hand palms your bare cunt, the pad of his thumb sliding between your folds to circle your clit.

“Is this what you wanted, sweet girl?” He purrs, dipping his first finger down to tease your aching hole, pleased to find you already wet.

“So wet for me, aren’t you? But you’re still so tight.” His words send waves of near painful arousal straight to your core. “Think you can take another finger sweet girl?”

“Yes, please, Commander,” you gasp out. You can tell he likes that, being referred to by his title, evident by the stiff tent in his pants rubbing against your thigh.

He slides a second deliciously thick finger in and begins pumping them deftly as you get closer and closer to the edge. He changes the rhythm he’s using to circle your clit, and you’re done for. You come hard and fast, clenching around his fingers.

“Mmm, good girl,” he whispers darkly, you smile up at him and drag his hand up to your mouth to suck his fingers clean. You bat your eyes at him as you swirl your tongue around his fingers, teasing him further.

“You want something else?” He pulls his fingers from your mouth and readjusts them to tilt your head up at him.

“I wanna suck your cock, Commander,” you say sweetly. He grins, loving the thrill of this little game and thoroughly excited at the prospect of it continuing. He moves to lay back against the pillows while you push yourself up to get on top of him. He rids himself of the top half of his fatigues, tossing it somewhere into the rest of the room.

Before you really think about it, you’re reaching out to run your hands over the sunburst tattoo decorating his muscled shoulder. Down over the particularly large scar on his chest. He watches your curious eyes, as they hungrily explore the well defined muscles of his chest and abdomen. Your fingers dip down to the waistband of the bottom half of his fatigues, and pull down.

His cock springs free, curving up towards his stomach. You can’t help staring a little bit as you finish working his pants off of him. You figured he’d be big given his stature, but he is… impressive to say the least.

But you’re feeling brave and up to the challenge so you look up at him. Without breaking eye contact, you take him in your hand, run your tongue up the underside of his shaft and wrap your lips around the head already dribbling precum. He breaks eye contact first, tipping his head back and trying to stifle a moan. Encouraged by his sounds of pleasure you take him further into your mouth, wrapping your hands around what your mouth can’t seem to take.

“So good,” he whimpers, “just like that." You hollow your cheeks and suck a little harder, dropping your other hand down to cup his balls. He’s getting close, the sight of your mouth stretched around him is almost too much for him

“St-stop,” he gets out. Quickly you look back up, and release him from your mouth. “Need to last long enough to fuck you, sweet girl."

With that he flips you over so you’re laying back down against the mattress. He ducks down to suck a mark on your collarbone. “You’re being so good for me, sweet girl. Think you can take this cock?”

“Yes,” your voice is light and breathy, “please Commander, want your cock."

He guides his cock to your entrance, rubbing the head up and down your soaking slit. Carefully he pushes into you, feeling your walls flutter around him. Your hands slide up his back and around his shoulders, feeling yourself stretch around him. It burns just a little, but in a pleasant kind of way that makes you crave more. He pushes in further, sheathing himself inside you.

He stills when he feels that he can’t push in any further, giving you time to adjust to the feeling of complete fullness. After a moment you give his shoulders a gentle squeeze and roll your hips up into him, encouraging him to start moving. He takes your cue and starts a steady rhythm, matching the upward thrust of your hips.

You shift slightly, hitching your leg up over his hip to change the angle. You smother the cry of pleasure that escapes you by burying your face in his neck when he hits something deep and wonderful inside you. He grabs you at your hip, and continues pumping into you.

“Blanche,” you moan out, “I think- I think I’m gonna-“ He can feel you starting to contact around him and he works hard to keep up his pace, fucking you through your impending orgasm.

“Come for me, pretty girl,” he snarls out, feeling himself getting close too. Your body goes rigid for a moment, digging your nails into his back as blinding white hot pleasure tears through you. Your cunt spasms, squeezing him impossibly tighter. A few more good thrusts, and he wrenches himself backwards, out of your grasp and pulls himself out of your wet heat.

He finishes himself off by pumping himself in his fist, cumming over your tits and stomach with a final grunt. He collapses down next to you, breathing heavily. You turn your head to look at him, admiring his gorgeous face. His eyes are closed, but the smile spread across his face as his breathing returns to normal is enchanting. When he does open his eyes, he takes in every feature of your perfect face. If he thought he was in trouble before… there’s no denying it now.

Eventually he gets up and brings a warm washcloth to clean you up. It feels nice, being taken care of like this, not all men are as considerate as Blanche. He comes back to the bed after tossing the washcloth back in the fresher. He leans over you again, and gives you the gentlest kiss on the top of your head.

“Can I get you anything?” He asks. You’ve never seen such tenderness from him, but it’s a welcome surprise.

“Will you just lay with me for a bit?” You reply. He smiles warmly, and pulls you in to cuddle up to his chest. After some time, just lying comfortably in each other’s presence, you guide his hand down to your hip and trace his fingers over the little protrusion in your skin where your contraceptive implant rests.

“Next time, I want you to come inside me,” you whisper to him. He gives your hip a light squeeze, and he slides his hand back up your waist and around your back, keeping you close.

“Next time?” He asks with the barest hint of a chuckle in his voice.

“I hope there’s a next time,” you say honestly, “that was too good to only happen once."

————————————————————————

In the months that follow, it’s almost like that night never happened. At least that’s what it looks like to everyone else. In front of the men you remain friendly but stern given your placement in command. You lead well and interact normally with Blanche. The squad is none the wiser. But when night falls, and everyone else is asleep there is nothing in the galaxy that can keep the two of you apart.

In his quarters or in yours, at times in riskier places if you’re feeling brave. It’s fun keeping a secret, trying to be quiet, exploring each other’s bodies and desires. It doesn’t need a label, it doesn’t get the teasing or scrutiny of the public eye; it’s unspoken and exciting… until one night something changes.

In the pitch black of your quarters, you’re splayed out on your back working to catch your breath and running your fingers through his thick curls that rest on your tummy.

“When this wretched war is over, we’re getting a bigger bed with a stronger frame,” you laugh. He laughs too, but something tugs at him.

When the war is over.

The thought turns over and over in his mind. It’s not like he doesn’t want the war to end. But who knows when that will actually happen. And who’s to say that either one of you will actually live to see the end of it. He feels guilty, laying there in your bed, running his hands down your sides. He’s let this go on for months. Pretending there’s nothing going on between you during the day, and fucking you like his life depends on it at night. All the while knowing either of you could be sent to die without a second thought on any given day. He feels selfish, slightly ashamed, and wrong about the whole thing. This can’t possibly have a future that doesn’t end in tragedy.

This has to stop, he thinks to himself, I can’t do this again.

You notice quickly that something has changed. Just days after that night, he’s acting differently around you. He doesn’t come to your room as often, or ever really. In briefings he makes no effort to include you in strategy planning, or decision making. You’re offended and hurt, but you know it is not your place to make a scene.

Instead, you pull away too. You stop all attempts to com him after hours, you lock the door to your quarters at night when you never used to, and you don’t spend time with him or the Squadron at large if he’s present. Instead you spend time with other members of the Squadron you’re friends with, or more often you spend your free time alone. In a word, you’re miserable. He is miserable.

He tells himself it’s for your own good. He’s doing you a favor by stopping this before you can get hurt. But it’s too late for that, you’re already hurt. You wonder what you did wrong. Why relationships, even ones without titles, have to end this way.

You try to push these thoughts and feelings away, by doing what you do best, burying yourself in work. There’s a very big important mission coming up in tandem with another battalion, the 410th, who are notorious for being difficult to work with.

The night before the mission, you lay in your bed tossing and turning, overcome with anxiety. When there’s a quiet knock at your door. You wonder briefly if you’d imagined it. But it comes again. You get up and go to answer it.

There he is, standing in the doorway looking at you with those beautiful eyes you’re hard pressed to look away from. You know what he wants without him having to say it. And you know you should say no, but you find that you can’t. Because you miss him so much, and you are longing for some kind of closure.

“I’m sorry, I hmmff” he doesn’t get the words out before you jump up, capturing his lips before he can say anything. He catches your legs as they wrap around his hips. He steps inside, and shuts the door with one hand.

This time is different from the others. He’s sweet and gentle, but still reaches that something deep within you that makes you fall apart in the best way possible. It’s like he’s desperate to know every inch of you. He rasps the sweetest praises into your skin, and sucks marks that are sure to stay long enough to make you miss him again.

Instead of falling asleep afterwards, like you know both of you should, you lay awake with your head tucked under his chin. Neither of you speak for the hours and hours that stretch by. Finally, the time comes, he has to leave before the others wake up to get ready for the mission.

He hates himself for failing again. He really thought he could do it. If tomorrow went even half as badly as he was anticipating, he might as well bare his soul to you. He thought he was gonna be strong enough to tell you how he feels. He’d practiced what he wanted to say. Spelled it out while he went down on you. But when it came down to it, he just couldn’t get the words out.

————————————————————————

The mission is a complete failure. Leave it to the 410th to fuck over a mission this badly and drag every other battalion and squad in the vicinity down with them. Blanche is seething, no less than four members of his squad are critically injured. Void already had his hands full keeping Blue and Jaws stabilized on the transport back to the ship, he had to enlist the help of Bruiser to hold down Fuse as he writhes in pain from his injuries. Leaving Blanche to hold an already saturated rag to the profusely bleeding wound on your abdomen.

You grip his blood stained hands, grounding you through the throbbing pain. Your skin is growing paler and clammier by the second. He holds your gaze, begging you to stay focused on him. The intensity in your eyes is fading, and your jaw goes slack.

“Captain,” he barks, pressing harder still. Your head lulls a bit and your eyes refocus on him for a brief moment. “Don’t you let go. You hear me? Don’t let go."

You try. You really do. You cling desperately to his rough hands on your stomach, and do everything you can to keep your eyes locked with his. But it’s too much, it’s beyond your control. You can feel yourself blacking out. The last thing you’re aware of his Blanche whipping his head around and screaming for Void.

You spend hours in surgery getting your perforated organs repaired, and longer still suspended in a bacta tank to get your tissues to heal. Finally you’re cleaned up, and laid down in a private recovery room of the GAR hospital on Coruscant.

Void looks like shit, but if he looks bad, Blanche looks worse. Dark circles under his eyes, unshaven, he hasn’t slept or showered in days. He’s too worried to eat, too scared to sleep.

Void slips out of your room, to find Blanche sitting on the ground just outside the door. Head in his hands, mumbling something under his breath.

“Blanche,” Void says gently. Blanche’s head twitches up, wild eyes searching for answers. “She’s stable now. She’ll be okay."

Blanche nods, trying to make it seem like is just relieved a member of their team is recovering. It’s not like that isn’t true. Void places a hand on Blanche’s shoulder.

“You can go see her. I’ll make sure no one goes in,” he said in a low voice. Blanche narrows his mismatched eyes. Void knew? How long has he known? Does it even matter right now?

He chooses not to think about it for the moment. Instead he hauls his miserable ass off the cold linoleum floor, and pushes open the door.

You look so small and pale laying there in the uncomfortable hospital bed. He approaches slowly, forgoing the guest chair at the foot of the bed. Instead he stands right next to you, gingerly picking up your hand. You open your eyes, despite how heavy your lids feel. His other hand moves to brush back some of your hair. Neither of you can find words, you’re lost in each other’s teary gaze.

He settles one leg on the bed, coming to sit with you and continues stroking your hair. He can feel his breathing getting shorter, and the tears in his eyes beginning to well up. He couldn’t stop this if he tried. The tears spilled over, and he winced.

“I can’t stand it,” he says shakily through his tears. “I can’t fucking stand it”

His hand stills over your cheek, a firm but gentle grip that commands your attention and grounds you in this moment. Your brow furrows in a silent question.

“I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” He’s just barely able to get the words out, his chest aches as he tries to hold back the ugly sob working its way up into this throat.

Both of his hands cradle your face, thumbs wiping away the tears that steak down your cheeks. He takes another shuddery breath, and whispers your name. “I love you,” he says. “I love you so much it hurts sometimes. I need you. I need you in my life. I don’t feel whole without you. I can’t stand the thought of being without you,” he cries, tipping his head forward to rest against your forehead. “Please, please, please, tell me I’m not alone in feeling this way”

“Blanche.” Your voice is gravely and hoarse, and just saying his name causes you to cough. He helps you sit up, and holds your shoulder while you work to clear your throat.

“I love you too,” you whisper. “You mean everything to me.” You snake your arms under his and settle your hands on the backs of his shoulders, drawing him into you.

He envelopes you into his body, careful of your sore abdominal muscles. His tears still flow, but they are tears of joy. That you’re alive. That you love him back. That there’s a chance for the two of you when this is all over. Maybe one of both of you wouldn’t make it to that end, but being with you for whatever time there is left is worth it.

“You’re mine. You’re my girl. You’re my baby,” he whispers, punctuating his statements with the tiniest of kisses. The familiar warmth of his body, the easy rise and fall of his chest, makes you feel safe. You can feel yourself slipping back into sleep. But you don’t fight it, you know that you need to rest.

When you’ve fully gone back to sleep, Blanche holds you a little longer. Not ready to leave you just yet. Despite Void’s assurance that you were stable and you’d be okay, he’s scared to leave you by yourself. But he can’t stay forever. Eventually he settles you down onto the pillow, and makes sure you’re fully tucked in. Before he goes, he leaves you one last lingering kiss.

[bobafetts-princess]

The No-Good, Very-Bad, Terrible Day

Pairings: Kamikaze (Sunburst Squadron) x GN!Reader (no use of Y/N, if there’s a gender identity and I missed it, let me know!)

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: It’s Kami so this gets a little bit INTENSE FRIENDS. Choking, edging, overstimulation, little bit of anal play, degradation and praise kinks, some dirty talk, Kami is a TOP, Kami calls you his good little slut like a million times, ass slapping, hints of depression and anxiety, lots of fun aftercare from our snarky boy (I think that’s all?? IDK)

A/N: So this is based off of @jangofctts Clone OC Kamikaze from her Sunny Squad! I hope you like it Miss Keida because I had a lot of fun writing it! If anything is OOC, IM SORRY I TRIED. I used your master list as inspo a hundred times and thanks for encouraging us to write about them!

You can find her Sunburst Squadron Masterlist HERE

(ALSO I am the mermaid anon, I’ll be glad the day Tumblr lets us send asks from a sideblog on mobile) If you saw this on my personal, no you didn’t 

It really had been one of those days. Shaak Ti had reprimanded you in front of a room full of people because you’d gotten two squads mixed up and sent one through training as a successful squad and the other down as a bad batch when it should have been reversed.

You were her assistant and usually on top of your game, but something was off this week and you were sure it had to do with the fact that your boyfriend, Kamikaze had been off-world for the last month on a mission with his squad, the Sunburst Squadron. He’d explicitly instructed you not to touch yourself while he was gone, a fate worse than death you swore. Sleep had been hard to come by as well because it was uncommon for you to get sleep when Kami was out on a mission, you spent too much time worried about his safety. So you were tired, horny, embarrassed, and wanted to drown out the nasty things your brain was saying to you.

Thankfully you’d been able to fix your mistake but not before the bounty hunter Bric, they had in charge of training had ALSO yelled at you in front of a room full of people. He was more harsh than Shaak Ti, more anger than disappointment, and his tone was much more aggressive. His reprimand was mean and if you made mistakes often you would understand but you’d been working under Shaak Ti for a few years and rarely made them, let alone make one this big. If you weren’t so stubborn it would have sent you into tears, the way he spoke to you and made you feel small. Thankfully for you, Shaak Ti recognized your body language and facial expression and sent you home for the day.

But you didn’t go back to your bunk, you made your way to the bunk that Kami and his brothers shared when they made it home and curled up against the sheets, savoring the smell of him on his pillow. Kami smelled like gunpowder and cinnamon and something spicy you couldn’t quit put your finger on.

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep, or how long you’d been out when the crashing of the door woke you up. You scrambled for the blaster Kami kept under his mattress, brandishing the weapon at the person trying to enter this room and only relaxed when you saw the familiar cheeky grin and mass of dyed red curls.

“Hey sugar tits, aren’t you supposed to be working?” He asked, pulling his armor off piece by piece and flopping on the bed next to you, his head near where your knees were bent and curled beneath you. Your fingers started raking through his hair and you explained your day to him.

“Shaak Ti sent me home, I made a mistake and she wasn’t happy,” you told him, your fingers making his hair stick up even more wayward than it already did. “And then that asshole that’s in charge of training yelled at me too, it was awful,” you felt Kami’s body stiffen from where he laid because no one liked him, he was cruel and unkind to the clones, unnecessarily so. One of his hands reached up to massage your calf gently as a way of support because Kami might talk a lot, but he was bad with words.

“Anyways, I came in here to lay down because I missed you and hey! What are you doing home?” You asked him, so wrapped up in your own shit that you forgot he wasn’t supposed to be home for two more days.

“Blanche sent me home early while they did cleanup, something about getting it out of my system so he doesn’t have to listen to it?” He chuckled and the twinkle in his eye when he looked at you had you laughing out loud. Kami wasn’t known for being quiet and his brothers got tired of listening to him and you.

“Imagine that? Two whole days with just the two of us?” You sighed in contentment at the idea and Kami’s hands snaked a little further up your thigh, sending little jolts through your body. Even with him being home you were still stressed from your day and he could sense that.

“What’s the matter? I thought you’d be happy I’m home,” he said and you could hear the hurt in his voice.

“I am happy you’re home Kamikaze, I’m just worn out. And you didn’t let me touch myself for a month so I’m kinda dying,” you chuckled as his head snapped up as the mention of you touching yourself.

“So what do you need? I’ll give it to you,” he promised, the most emotion and softness you’d get out of the semi-hardened pilot.

“Break my back like a fucking glow stick Kami, take me out of my own head for a little while,” you told him, head dipping slightly out of embarrassment at your admonition. You could feel the prickle under your skin from being denied for so long but you knew you would be crying for Kami to stop before the next two days were up.

“Off the bed. Strip, I want you naked,” his tone was commanding and you nearly got whiplash at how face he went from playful boyfriend to demanding lover. Your legs scrambled to comply and while you were stripping, Kami was pulling out toys from the trunk under his bed. He grabbed the vibrator and a small plug before he looked up to admire your naked form.

“Look so good when you do as I ask,” he murmured, finger trailing down your cheek to your throat as he came to stand over you, his frame much larger than your own. “On the bed. Face down, ass up,” he barked and you scrambled to do as he asked. Your pussy was already wet, the month of missing him evident. The bed dipped as he moved behind you, calloused fingers ghosting over your cheeks.

“Always so ready for me, I don’t deserve you,” Kami said and you lifted your head to argue with him but he laid a sharp smack to your cheek in warning. “Don’t move or I’ll be forced to punish you,” he promised, lust and dominance dripping from his voice.

You complied even as his hands ghosted over your skin and you wanted nothing more than to press into him, get the contact you’ve been craving since he left. Two fingers trailed along your folds and you had to work at not arching into him, especially when he circled your clit with those two fingers.

“Kami,” you whined, drawing out his name, “Kamikaze please.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good,” he promised and you knew he would. His fingers plunged inside you, a little tight from not having his hands for a month, but the stretch felt so fucking good. Kami kept one hand on your ass, spreading you open for him as he fucked you on his fingers. You tightened around him, mind already going foggy as he grunted praises to you.

“Such a good little slut for me,”

“Always so fucking eager,”

“Fuck, you’re squeezing my fingers so tight, can’t wait to feel that around my cock,”

The hand holding you open shifted so he could press his thumb against your asshole and you cried out, on the cusp of coming but Kami knew you. He pulled away abruptly, leaving you teetering on the brink as he laid a sharp slap to each ass cheek before massaging the soft flesh.

“Awe, poor little thing, you didn’t think I’d let you come already, did you?” His tone was mocking as his fingers worked into you gently again, thumb pressing against your asshole once more.

“No, baby, I’m gonna bring you to the edge, over and fucking over again until you’re crying for me to let you cum,” he promised and you simply nodded, a sign to him that you were ready, you wanted this. His fingers quickened their pace, curling against that fucking spotuntil you almost couldn’t take it anymore. But then his fingers pulled out as his thumb pushed in and you screamed his name, teetering on the edge again.

Kami worked his thumb in and out of you, not touching your pussy for now, until he felt you were ready for the little plug. There was the distinct click of a bottle and then the cool metal of the plug was pressed up against your asshole and Kami was talking to you.

“Think you can take it? You know how much I love seeing your pretty ass plugged when I fuck you on my fingers,” Kami said and you nodded to him, pressing back just slightly so he knew you were still with him. He worked in the plug slowly, the size a little much after a month but he worked you through every centimeter, whispering praises and ghosting his free hand along your ass and back and thighs until you felt the plug slip all the way in.

“Fuck,” he whispered, using his hands to spread your cheeks slightly so he could get a better look. Giggling a little, you wiggled your ass at him, earning you another slap to your cheeks. “I thought I told you not to move.”

“Yes, Kamikaze. I’m sorry, Kamikaze,” you whimpered, not in the mood to be punished.

Don’t get it twisted, there were days when you pushed every fucking button Kami had just so he would punish you for it later, but today was not that day and you just wanted Kami to make you feel good.

Kami must’ve sensed it because he reached down, turning the vibrator on the lowest setting and placing it against your aching clit. You cried out, arms stretching out in front of you to grip the sheets and keep yourself grounded. His fingers brushed at your entrance and you moaned his name, wishing he would fuck you with them.

“Were you good while I was gone?”

“Yes Kami, I was good,” you promised.

“Didn’t touch this pretty pussy, even once?” His fingers were thrusting shallowly, keeping you balanced close to the edge.

“No, not even once.”

“So fucking good for me,” Kami was starting to get more and more worked up and it wouldn’t be long before his control would snap and he’d be edging you relentlessly. The pace of his fingers picked up and he clicked the vibrator up a notch, making you fist your fingers in the sheets and scream out for him.

Your orgasm was fast approaching, the moans dropping from your mouth wantonly but right as you went to tip over the peak, Kami pulled out, tugging slightly on the plug in your ass.

“Kami, please!” You cried out, but you knew your night was only just beginning. Kami edged you over and over again, each denied orgasm sending you higher and higher into subspace until tears were streaking down your face and your throat was raw from begging. Kami talked you through each one, tone mocking as your cunt clenched down on nothing when he pulled his fingers out. He was attentive even as he destroyed you, taking your body and your mind apart piece by piece and molding it back together the way he liked.

“That’s such a good fucking slut for me,”

“Awe baby, you’ve gotta beg harder if you want to come,”

“Hear how wet that pussy is for me?”

He checked in after every denial, asking if you were okay and wanted him to keep going and your answer way always the same, yes please Kami I can take another.

You were near sobbing now, your orgasm so close you could almost taste the fucking thing. Your mind was blank and full at the same time, the worst parts of your day long behind you and the thought of Kami’s fingers plunging in and out of you filling the empty spaces. It was exactly what you needed, the release of being out of control of everything bleeding the tension from your shaking form and leaving the gooey feeling of submission in its wake.

“Please, Kamikaze, I’ll do anything, please baby let me cum,” you begged, pulling out all the stops when he finally relented.

“Cum. Cum until I tell you that you can stop,” he commanded, fingers hitting that delicious spot as he kicked the vibrator up to the highest setting and you screamed out your release, garbled grunts of his name mixed with groans of pleasure as your body clamped down and you came, over and fucking over again.

“That’s right, a good little slut coming for me,”

“Fucking love hearing you scream my name,”

He pushed you from one orgasm right into another until you were shifting on the bed, trying to get reprieve from the onslaught of sensations on your sensitive cunt.

His fingers left your cunt and you breathed a momentary sigh of relief but then he laid a harsh slap across your ass.

“I thought I told you not to fucking move,” he snarled, smacking your ass again.

“Kami, please, I can’t come again,” you whined, trying to stop your hips from shifting.

“You beg me to let you come and then you beg me to stop? You’ve gotta pick one, baby,” he said, forcing your body into another orgasm that had you screaming from overstimulation.  

“Please, Kamikaze, want your cock please,” you cried, knuckles white from how hard you were gripping the sheets. You must’ve said the magic words because all stimulation stopped and the bed was shifting under Kami’s weight as he sat up behind you.

“You want my cock? Beg me for it,” he demanded you as he rubbed along your folds, sending jolts of electricity through your body with each pass over your clit.

“Kam-Kamikaze please, give me your cock, I need it so bad,” you begged but it wasn’t quite enough for him. He pushed himself in just slightly, your warmth encompassing only his head. You already felt so full with just his head and the plug and you couldn’t wait to see how you’d feel once he pushed all the way in.

“Hmm, I don’t really think you want my cock. You don’t sound serious,” and you could just imagine the face he was making, one hand wrapped around your hip and the other tapping on his chin in fake contemplation.

“Kami,” you whined, drawing out his name, “please baby. I’ve missed your cock so bad since you’ve been gone. Thought about you every night, wished you were here to fuck me stupid,” you told him, wanting to rock back but not wanting the punishment that would go along with it.

“Since you asked so nice, I’ll fuck this pretty little pussy,” he told you, pushing in inch by inch as you groaned with the feeling. Kami was thick and long, enough to stretch you even with all the prep and touch the deepest parts inside of you. The fullness you felt from his cock in your pussy and the plug in your ass was unparalleled.

“Maker this pussy is so fucking good, so wet for me,” he groaned, pulling your asscheeks apart so he could watch his cock split you open as he thrust slowly in and out of you. You were whimpering for more, for him to pound you within an inch of your life, but Kami had the restraint of a god, pushing himself in and out of your walls slowly. One hand tugged on the plug, the other keeping you spread open as he toyed with you, talking about how he couldn’t wait to fuck your ass one day.

The things Kami said to you on the regular were so filthy so debauched that you swore you could come just from him talking to you, but today you needed his cock.

“Kamikaze, baby, I need more,” you whined, reaching an arm back to grab at his wrist. But Kami was quick as lightning, twisting so your wrist was in his and was pressed down into the small of your back.

“I don’t recall telling you that you could touch me,” he snapped, hips picking up their pace as he mocked you. You didn’t have a response that wouldn’t displease him so you just lost yourself in the sensations of Kami filling you over and over again. His strong hand wrenched your chin back, twisting your body awkwardly as he opened your mouth for him. He spit into your open mouth and you eagerly swallowed for him, opening your mouth for him to see.

“So fucking filthy for me, such a good fucking slut,” his voice was low and you knew he was close, the rhythm of his hips faltering slightly as you cried out for him.

He pulled your body back against him, your back flush with his strong chest and one of his hands immediately wrapped around your throat.

“You’re my little cockslut, aren’t you? Always happiest when I’m pounding one of your little holes??” Kami snarled, his hand squeezing tightly around your throat as he pounded into you and you whimpered a yes. His other hand snaked down to your clit, hitting harsh circles that made you clamp down on him.

“Come for me,” he told you, but you didn’t think you could again.

“Kami, I can’t, I can’t come again,” you cried, nails digging into his arms.

“Come or I won’t let you for another month.”

Your body betrayed you at his words, clenching down on him harshly, his body wringing one more orgasm out of you as he chased his own high.

He came hard with a roar of your name, fingers tightening impossibly tight on your throat as he spilled himself inside of you. Both of your bodies fell in a heap on the bed, his longer and wider frame covering yours as you caught your breath.

“Whew!” Kami said after his heart rate slowed and he peeled himself off of you, “good job sugar tits!” His face was cracked into a shit-eating grin and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes and laugh. “You laughing at me? Pshh, I’ll give you something to laugh about,” he promised, pinning you beneath him as he tickled your ribs, until tears ran down your face and you begged for him to stop.

He pulled you in for a deep kiss, one that conveyed all the emotions the two of you had yet to speak out loud before he pulled you from the bed, guiding you to the fresher where he wiped you clean of his release before gently reminding you to pee while he got snacks.

“Gotta build our strength back up for round two,” he said, twinkle in his golden eyes.

“Cuddles?” He’d asked when you returned from the fresher, two big bowls of snacks already sitting on his bunk, one salty and one sweet. You nodded, needing to be close to him as he turned on a crappy holodrama on the tv and didn’t watch a lick of it because he was too busy asking questions in between shoving food in his mouth.

“How do birds fly?”

“Why are fish?”

“Do you think Blanche’s pubes are streaked with blonde too?” (That one had you fucking dying)

And that’s how you were, curled up with Kami’s arm around your shoulders, dressed in only his fatigue’s shirt when the door flew open again. Kami moved faster than you’d expected, throwing the food off the bed and pointing his blaster at the door, all while covering your body with his own.

“Please relax, I simply wish to speak with my assistant,” came Shaak Ti’s soft voice from the door.

“How did you know I’d be here?” You asked her, head poking out from behind Kami’s shoulder as he placed the blaster on the table by the bed.

“Your thoughts are not exactly quiet, child, and I’d heard our dear pilot Kamikaze had arrived back to base shortly after I’d sent you home. I’m simply here to apologize for the tiff you and I had this morning and to apologize for Bric’s behavior, he shouldn’t have spoken to you like that and I should not have let him.” She spoke softly, almost like she was talking to a wounded animal and in retrospect that’s how your pride felt.

Kami’s body was still in front of yours, but his posture was much more relaxed with one arm thrown over his propped up knee and the blankets pooling around his hips as he regarded the Jedi General.

“I appreciate that, General.” You told her, accepting her apology as she turned for the door.

“I think it is safe to assume that you will not be working tomorrow?” She turned in the doorway to ask, lilt of amusement in her tone and Kami burst into a full grin at that.

“No, General. I’ve got some ideas to keep her occupied tomorrow,” he promised and Shaak Ti closed the door behind her with a gentle laugh.

Tags: @ahoeformando

Masterlist | Taglist

[djxrxn]

a regular thing

fuse (ct-8902) x reader

wc: 1.7 k

warnings: alcohol consumption!! some explicit language, maybe some mentions/references to sexual situations

art used is by jangofctts!!!!!! fuse and the rest of the sunburst squadron also belong to jangofctts!! this is because keida ( @jangofctts ) as well as danielle ( @jango-fettish ) REFUSE to let the sunburst squadron be happy, so now i have to step in ugh, ridiculous. anyways enjoy!

Damn. You forgot how gorgeous Fuse’s smile was. 

It had only been a year since you wandered back onto your assigned base to find your squad was missing a member. Not dead, your commander had told you, just not here. There were snide comments, remarks told under breaths and in languages you neither spoke nor understood. They didn’t need some fucking mechanic trying to start a fight because a transferred clone had been insulted. 

Your commander - Fang, all sharp words and crooked smiles, a man you were nervous to talk to in the first place, let alone push him on a topic he didn’t want to continue talking about - had told you to leave it, leave him be. This was for the best. 

So you did. You left the thought of him behind on base, closing off the memories you carried in your chest to rot and slowly starve. Hopefully, one day, they’d be nothing, and you could finally wash Fuse off like the rest of the grease stains that littered your hands. 

That was so kriffing difficult, though. Every blaster fire, every stray explosion no one had planned for on the field, Maker, even a fly-away spark, and you felt sick. You missed him, you missed his warmth so much. You felt his absence in your fucking bones, your body physically ached. You worried, how was he supposed to stay alive without you watching his six? How was he supposed to get out of the trouble he caused without someone like you, someone who wasn’t hell bent on pissing off their commanders and brothers?

And how were you supposed to do anything without your partner in crime - without someone to ease your fears and anxieties, to calm you down so you could fix one last wire on the last speeder needed to get away from the Seppies. 

A unit - a duo. And now, you were alone. 

Stumbling upon him like that, watching him scrub the red off the plastoid armor… if you hadn't known better, you would have thought maybe something like the Force had brought you together. You supposed the Force had also pulled you apart, too, but-

Now here he was. 

Getting his ass to come with you to a club was easy enough. All you had to do was pay for his drinks - maybe it had been a year, give or take some time, but Fuse was still Fuse. 

Empty shot glasses littered the table. This late into the night, you weren’t really sure how many you had, you didn’t really remember much. Everything existed in a haze, a bright and vibrant dream. The music was almost too loud to hear your own thoughts, let alone the person you came here with. The patrons of the nightclub moved about, but the only person you wanted to focus on was right in front of you, a wide grin stretched over his cheeks — you never noticed the dimples in his cheeks, or the handful of freckles over the bridge of his nose. Up close, and with only him to transfix on, every detail was explicit and bright, the warmth radiating off of him feeling more like fire than a gentle spark. 

The feelings you tried to push away, the real reason you were so upset that you never looked for him, the fear that nothing would be reciprocated, all of it, it came roaring to the forefront of your drunken mind. He was beautiful, like a violent sunset, all fiery reds and deep oranges — you felt the panic flooding through you as you remembered that every sun crawls behind the horizon, leaving a cold and dark night in its absence. Nothing was forever. 

You tried to say his name, but it came out crooked and garbled, a mess of syllables and vowels, it didn’t sound correct. “Fuse,” you tried again. Better, but your words still slurred. 

Now it was his turn to say your name, and Maker, it made your chest ache. 

“I—” Did you want to tell him? You couldn’t un-ring this bell, you couldn’t go back. What if Fuse was still hurt and wanted nothing to do with you, what if—

You didn’t know when you were going to see him again. For all you knew, his new squadron was moving out in the moving, being shipped out to another moon or a Inner Rim planet, He would be gone just as soon as you had him again, and if this was it… 

“Hey,” you tried to shout over the music, “I love you.”

“What?” Fuse shook his head. “I can’t hear you, what?”

“I missed you,” you said. He rolled his eyes, but his smile grew a little bit brighter, and his eyes looked softer. For a moment, the past was forgotten and your Fuse was back. Every transgression had been forgotten, and for this bright and shining minute, you were better. 

“I missed my favorite cockroach,” Fuse laughed. “We have to do this again, huh?”

You tried not to be upset that you couldn’t say it, couldn’t fucking tell him. You wanted so badly for him to understand why you didn’t look for him. Fang was a terrifying commander, sure, but you and Fuse had gone around him and his orders before. No, the reason you didn’t look for him because you thought Fang was right, this was for the best. You couldn’t really be with Fuse, even if he did feel similarly. 

“I can’t let you go,” you said. “Not again.”

Fuse wasn’t sure — chalk it up to the whiskey, or maybe to the fact that Fuse had never paid close enough attention to you, to the way you looked at him like that, with eyes that almost looked misty, with a tight little frown forming on your sweet mouth - but to him, this felt so much deeper than the normal shallow of your relationship. This was not cut and dry, what you two had was not simple. Maybe it had never been simple. 

“So, yeah, this is gonna be a regular thing,” you added quickly. 

Fuse nodded. He didn’t want to think about what you meant. If you pushed on it, sure, you both could have that conversation. But he wasn’t running head first to be burned by you again. You could call the shots, and Fuse would follow. 

“Alright,” he said, shooting you half of a grin. “Fine by me, cockroach.”

You took a breath, glancing away for a moment. The lights around you glowed neon pink and purple, a haze of color and sound and life — your life had revolved around the war. You didn’t know where you would be without it. Out of a job you supposed, but then, you wouldn’t have Fuse, or any of his brothers. All the same, it was nice to get drunk in a dreamy club and pretend like you were normal sometimes. You could pretend that you were a normal civilian, and that you weren’t required to be on a military base in the morning, preparing for another battle, another violent and miserable day. You could imagine a life with someone, maybe with Fuse - making caf in a cramped kitchen space in a small apartment in the Inner Rim. You and Fuse could open a shop, maybe something repairing vessels, or blowing them up, fuck, none of the details mattered. The more you thought about it, the more you just wanted a normal life with Fuse. You wondered if he had ever thought about a normal life with you too - you really hoped so. 

When you looked back at him, Fuse was already staring at you - dark eyes and parted lips, his brow was furrowed up. Some dark thought was eating at his thoughts, tearing through him and overwhelming senses. You wanted to help him, you wanted to take his mind off of everything, you just wanted to heal. 

You worked with machines — you knew how to retire and reprogram and fix things to make it run smoothly. Fuse was not a machine, and he was not made of wires and parts. You didn’t know what to do to fix things, if there was even a way to fix the damage. 

Fuse leaned forwards, just a fucking hair closer, but it was enough to make it hurt. This was too much, he was too bright and too much, and you were suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to touch him. 

“Can I kiss you?” You stumbled over your words, and you were worried he couldn’t hear you again, but—

He surged forwards to reach you, his hands flying to cradle your head. Fuse’s lips were warm against yours, his belts were warm, he was so fucking warm, you felt alive. Every breath you stole between soft groans and nips of teeth came easy, releasing the tension that had been building in your chest all night. His tongue grazed along your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth, and this was home.

How many times did you think about kissing Fuse like this? How many times did you imagine his hands instead of your own? This was everything you could have ever wanted, everything you needed from Fuse. You missed him so much, thought about him every moment, but this was worth it. Fuse could burn you in every way he knew how, and you would probably deserve it, but you would brave it all to kiss him again.  

“Can this be our regular thing too?” You whispered against his mouth. Fuse pulled away for a second, and you almost were afraid that he was about to say no. But he moved forwards again, silencing all worry in your mind as he kissed you again. 

“Yeah, it can be,” Fuse answered you. He wouldn’t mind at all if kissing you like this was a regular occurrence. His thoughts weren’t in order — not that he had excellent ideas sober either, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to sneak you onto base without Blanche or Blue catching wind of it. Fuse was trying to come up with a plan, something that no one would notice. That would be hard, especially if Sweets was on patrol for the night- 

It didn’t matter, he decided as you tugged on his bottom lip, your gentle hands crawling up his thighs. It really didn’t matter at all — his brothers would be fine with it, or they would get over it. Fuse just wanted you, and now that he had you? Nothing could take his little bug away from him. 

[rosethornxs]

Whispered Secrets

A peace offering to @jangofctts to make up for my angsty ass yesterday. Love you Keida, and your babies. I wrote this instead of getting up to do school. Please enjoy!

Pairing: SweetsxFem!Reader

Sweets belongs to @jangofctts and I like to hurt him and then make him feel better. No hurting in this though, just softness. 

Word Count: 925

Rating: 18+

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, smut, unprotected sex, PiV sex

You lie with him in the dim room. His head rests against your chest as he absentmindedly draws little designs across the top of your breast with his fingertips. Your hand cards through his pretty curls and you twist the soft, cyan strands that frame his face around your finger. 

“What are you thinking about, Sweet Boy?” you hum, moving your hand down to cup his cheek. 

Sweets blinks up at you, a sleepy smile spread across his features. His hand stills over your steadily beating heart, warm and heavy on your skin. 

“You,” he murmurs. 

Your heart flutters at his confession and Sweets can feel it beneath his palm. He’d never get tired of learning all the ways your body could respond to his. The effect of his words or his touches, they all make you react in different ways. He moves his hand from your sternum and traces a finger from your collarbone down over your breast, circling once around your nipple before settling on your stomach. You shiver at the sensation and arch slightly into his touch, goosebumps forming on your skin. 

“Sweeeeets—“ you whine, tugging gently at his curls. 

He shifts, moving to press his lips between your breasts over your heart where his hand was moments before. Your breath catches in your chest as you watch him. Sweets whispers something unintelligible into your skin. 

“What was that, baby?” you ask, eyebrows coming together in confusion. He doesn’t clarify. 

Instead, he moves to take your nipple into his mouth. You gasp as he drags his tongue over the stiff bud. He releases you from his mouth and whispers softly into your skin again. Then he moves to your other nipple and does the same thing. You desperately want to know what he’s whispering but you don’t ask again. Sweets will tell you when he’s ready, if he wants to. 

He continues his path up your chest, kissing you and softly whispering a secret only he knows into your skin. You run your nails down his back and whine when he reaches the sensitive spot on your neck. He whispers again and you strain to make out the words but he’s only gotten quieter. 

Finally, his lips ghost over your ear. He nips at your earlobe and your heart starts to race. Sweets takes a moment to breathe before whispering his secret into your ear. 

“I love you.” 

Your mouth falls open in surprise and warmth spreads over your entire body. 

“What?” you breathe. You know exactly what he said but you just want to hear it again. 

“I. Love. You.” Maker, it sounds so beautiful when he says it. And it’s only for you. 

Sweets lifts his head to look at you, warm brown eyes so soft with adoration. You could bask under his gaze for a millennia. 

“I love you too.” The words come out so easily, like you’re meant to say them. “I love you so much.” 

Sweets lets out a gentle, almost relieved sigh and his lips curl into a smile. Your hand finds the back of his neck and you pull him into a kiss, trying to convey all the feeling you don’t have words for with the movement of your lips against his. 

Sweets shifts so he’s fully between your legs. He moves one hand to spread your thighs and he lines himself up at your entrance. His other hand grasps yours and your fingers intertwine with his. He meets your eyes, silently asking for permission. You nod once and gasp when he slowly sinks into you. 

“I love you,” he murmurs again and you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing it. 

Sweets rolls his hips and you moan softly at the lovely feeling of him so deep inside you. He continues like that, steady, slow, and gentle, pulling you apart with each thrust. His lips trail everywhere they can reach, whispering into your skin over and over, like he’s trying to brand the words onto your body. 

There’s a familiar tightness growing in your lower belly as Sweets brushes that spot that makes you see stars. You lift yourself to meet him with each subsequent roll of his hips. 

“Gonna come, Sweets,” you whine. 

He reaches between your bodies to where you’re joined and begins to rub circles over your clit. You throw your head back and cry out as the feeling pushes you over the edge. Sweets takes advantage of your exposed neck and presses his lips to the sensitive skin. You cling to him, walls fluttering around him as you come. The pleasure radiates out from your lower belly, causing your legs to shake. You squeeze around Sweets, feeling him twitch inside you. The movement of his hips turns erratic and you know he’s close. 

“Come for me, my love,” you coo, urging him deeper inside you. Sweets stiffens, spilling himself within your walls with a grunt. 

“Good boy,” you praise and his lips are on yours again. They’re warm and gentle and oh so sweet. Another “I love you” falls from his mouth and you smile against his lips. 

“I love you too, Sweet Boy.” 

Sweets settles on your chest again as he softens inside you. He rests his palm on your breast, occasionally pressing his fingertips into the soft flesh. You wish you could just stay like this forever, not worrying about missions and battles and Jedi. But that doesn’t seem possible in this life so you cherish the moments like this until it’s time to leave again. 

Anyway, I love Sweets with my whole chest!

- 🦀

[jango-fettish]

The Ruler and the Killer (Syrena Aster x Sunburst Squadron)

Rating: R or M (I don’t know, yo)

Word Count: 7,376

Warnings: DEATH (there is character death in this you have been warned), canonical-type violence, cursing, the Heretics are meanie butt heads with meanie butt head rules, brief mention of a blowjob (im proud, i only used cock in this once), my possible typos and grammatical errors (please let me know if i should warn about anything else!!!)

A/N: Thanks to @jangofctts​​ again for creating the Sunburst Squadron and letting me use them. And thank you for letting me kILL MAX. Also, thank you to @weebblossom​ for letting me steal your Heretic personality for Fenn. 

Someone once told Syrena, when she was a young girl still surrounded by the loving embrace of her mother, that a person can be brought back to life just by remembering them. If that were true, Syrena had a long list of names she’d like to bring back. Most with a black check next to their name: the people she wanted to bring back just to kill all over again. People who deserved to die for a second time, like her mother who once held her so tightly to her chest and promised to love her till the end of time. 

But there were a few she would bring back because, truthfully, they did not deserve to die. She shouldn’t have killed them and she would do anything to turn back the hands of time to fix her mistake...her error that resulted in the blood of an innocent spilled on her behalf. But like Death, Time was a fickle friend to Syrena and once something is done, there wasn’t enough money or praying in the world that she could do to change it. 

Syrena frowned to herself, a dark unsettling feeling sinking in the pit of her stomach. It was the type of feeling someone wouldn’t want before they were about to commit a crime against the Republic. She’d had it once before, when she took her first solo job after her training finished. She had just turned sixteen. Three innocent people died that day, three names added to her list that she would bring back. Syrena looked around the ship, wondering if the others had the same feeling, but they were all preoccupied with checking their weapons on last time. 

“What’s on your mind?” a sweet voice said, tearing Syrena away from her thoughts. 

She looked up to see Nettie, a plucky Rodian that had a knack for getting too involved in other people’s business. Syrena supposed it fit: Nettie was a hacker, a damn good one too, so of course she would try to get as much information out of a person as possible as she did with a computer. Nettie’s bulbous black eyes stared down at Syrena, trying to silently unlock the secrets she held. They looked as if starlight was streaking through them. It made Syrena uncomfortable and only added to the unsettling feeling in her stomach, making it expand upward and try to claw its way out her throat. 

Syrena had known Nettie for some time now, probably the most out of anyone on their four person team. They had been roommates during the beginning years of training, spending nearly six year stuck in the same small room together and trying to survive. Nettie was sweet and soft, everything a Heretic wasn’t supposed to be. They spent years whispering secrets and crying to one another, only letting the other person in. They were each other’s rock during those six years. The only reason why they went their separate ways was because they had to choose their speciality, to continue their training and become the deadly weapons the Heretics were known throughout the galaxy as. The Rodian chose technology and hacking, while Syrena stuck with combat and weaponry. 

“All this trouble just for some information,” Syrena said, rubbing the palms of her hands on her thighs. The ship they were on lurched to the left again, the various weapons hanging from the walls clinging together. “Seems a little overkill to have four people for this.”

It was rare for there to be a mission that required more than just two Heretics. And even then, one was usually good enough. But for this specific mission, there were two teams of four. They didn’t even know what information they were after. 

“Get in, get the information, get out. Kill anyone that gets in your way, if necessary,” the Creator had told them when giving the assignment. The Creator wanted everything, so they would get everything. The other team would take care of the distraction. 

“Knowing your enemy from the inside out is the only true way of instilling fear,” Nettie said, slowly sliding into the open seat next to Syrena. 

Syrena recoiled at her words, “Since when was the Republic our enemy? We haven’t chosen a side in over a millenia.”

“Perhaps our current Creator wishes to change that,” the Rodian pondered. 

“‘Bout time, if you ask me,” another voice said, cutting through their conversation. The melodic tone clashed with Syrena’s patience like loud cymbals being beaten together over and over again. “The Republic has been taking advantage of the Heretics for decades now. Glad we finally have someone in charge that has a clear vision of what we should have always been.”

“Oh, piss off back to Dothomir, Fenn,” Syrena said, rolling her eyes. She leaned back and shut her eyes, barely catching the snarl form on the Zabraks face. “The Heretics shouldn’t take sides. We’re nothing more than the shadows that charge the wealthy bastards of the galaxy a bit too much to do their dirty work.” 

“Rich coming from you, snake,” Fenn hissed, stepping closer to Syrena. 

“You got something to say, Pointy? Say it.” Syrena’s eyes were still closed, but she could feel the heat and rage radiating off of the Zabrak. 

“You’re fucking a clone. We all know it.”

Syrena’s eyes shot open into a glare, “Who I’m fucking isn’t anyone’s business, especially yours.” 

“If it clouds your piss poor judgement on a job, then yeah it is my business.”

There was a shock of electricity throughout the cabin of the ship. In an instant, Syrena was on her feet, the blade she kept hidden in her wrist vambrace shot out and pressed against the Zabrak’s neck. Fenn, for all of her faults, was just as quick as Syrena. Her own vibroblade was pointing upwards against Syrena’s stomach. One movement from either of them would result in a painful and bloody death. They were snarling at each other, animalistic noises coming from their throats. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Alyze said.

Alyze was one of the oldest Heretics. They were well respected in the community and had a favorable opinion with the Republic after helping to train the clone ARC Troopers at the beginning of the war. It was a well paying gig, one any Heretic would jump to take. But Alyze was the best choice for the job. 

Syrena and Fenn continued glaring at each other. Syrena pressed the knife harder onto Fenn’s skin, satisfied when the Zabrak winced at the sting of the freshly sharpened blade. Alyze finally stepped close to the two, wanting the situation to diffuse. If Alyze was in a worse mood, they would have physically stopped the encounter, but their thoughts and care were focused on the mission. 

“I said enough,” Alyze barked, their irritation with the two smaller women growing, “We’re almost at the drop location. Get your heads out of your asses and get ready for deployment.”

Fenn hissed at Syrena before drawing her vibroblade away. Syrena could only laugh to herself as she retracted her blade. It slowly slid back into its secret compartment.  

“Unless your mouth is the one on my pussy, shut the fuck up about who I’m sleeping with, got it?” Syrena warned. Fenn went back to her seat, keeping her glare on Syrena. 

Syrena approached Nettie again, holding onto one of the overhanging bars. The closer the ship got to the drop point, the bumpier it became. 

“Fenn has a point you know,” Nettie said, looking up at Syrena. “Your infatuation with the clone could be detrimental to this and future missions. I give it a 88% chance of failing and resulting in the death of the clone or yourself.”

“Nettie, can you just,” Syrena sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, “just not be a know-it-all right now.”

“Interesting, though, how they are allowing this relationship to continue.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“The powers that be. The Creator. Myrkos.” Syrena frowned at the mention of her old Master. “They stopped Alyze’s relationship with that Jedi on Kamino before it became....a hindrance to the Creator’s objective.”

“Well clearly they don’t think that this is anything more than me screwing around.”

“For now,” Nettie said, her voice sounding far away. “Though, you have been put in their favor since you provided the intel on when the troopers change their shifts, giving us the perfect opportunity to drop in. Does your clone know that you used him for information? Is that the type of bedroom talk you can get out of him? Impressive.”

“Nettie, just...just shut up, please.”  

“My apologies, no harm intended,” Nettie said with a smile. 

She was beginning to make Syrena feel uneasy, and rather guilty. She had gotten the information out of Bruiser during one of their more...intimate encounters, but he didn’t have to spill the beans. It was his choice to tell her, his choice to trust her even though she had warned him not to.

“Syrena,” Nettie began again, “I don’t know what gods you pray to or if you even believe in any. But you better hope that they are on your side. Who knows exactly what would happen should you lose favor with them. Or worse, lose favor with the Creator.” 

“Let’s go,” Alyze interjected before Syrena could fully process what Nettie had said, “we’re at the drop zone.”

Getting into the Republic military outpost on Coruscant was easy, especially with the knowledge Syrena had provided regarding trooper shift changes. In the end, it was an easy drop, with a quick landing on the roof before the four of them got in through the ventilation system. Surely by now the Republic would learn to get smaller vents. 

“It changes all the time,” Bruiser had said to her in confidence, his words breathy as her tongue swirled around the head of his flushed leaking cock. “Never know until, oh kriff, never know until we’re called.”

She only hoped that they weren’t stationed there today. She usually warned Bruiser if she was involved in any unsavory Heretic business. Though it was typically only a, ‘Hey I’m arriving in like five minutes to fuck shit up, see you then,’ type of warning. But five minutes was better than nothing. 

“Syrena,” Alyze harshly whispered, pulling her out of her memories, “Get your head in the fucking mission.” 

“Sorry,” Syrena mumbled, checking the hallway for the third time to see if anyone was coming. 

They just needed to clear one more hallway before they made it to the main room containing anything and everything regarding the Republic’s Military Intelligence. Just two more blast doors and then the easy part would come. Nettie was ready, her gear already hooked into the security system and working on encoding the firewalls. 

“Their systems are as protected as this building,” Nettie scoffed sarcastically. “Ray shields are down, we can proceed.” 

“Good, let's get this shit over with,” Fenn said, walking down the hallway with her blaster drawn.

Alyze and Nettie trailed behind her, their own weapons at the ready. Syrena, however, looked back the way they came, the unsettling feeling rising once again. She could feel the Force stirring ominously, hear the way the electricity cackled throughout the walls. Something was terribly wrong, but Syrena had no idea what it was or if she could do anything about it. 

“Syrena,” Nettie said. Syrena turned, almost slamming straight into the Rodian, “Let’s go.” 

Syrena nodded shortly, following the shorter woman carefully down the hallway. Her nerves were on high alert and she couldn’t read the energy in the Force anymore. 

They got into the room quickly, Nettie making her way to the main computer to set up her gear. 

“Syrena, you stay here with Nettie, make sure everything goes alright. Fenn and I will scout the hallways,” Alyze ordered before looking at the spunky Zabrak, “We’re here to incapacitate only. I don’t care what the Creator said, I don’t want any unnecessary deaths.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Fenn whined, “If you ask me, the only good clone is a dead one.” 

“It’s a good thing no one asked you,” Alyze snapped before looking to Syrena, “Lock the doors behind us.” 

Syrena nodded, sending a seething glare towards Fenn. She truly would not care if something happened to Fenn during this mission. If she had the opportunity to, Syrena was sure she would just step to the side and let blaster fire turn the Zabrak to dust.

She watched as Fenn stalked back into the hallway, putting her brass knuckles on. Syrena had been on the receiving end of one of Fenn’s beat downs. She knew the power and aggression behind Fenn’s hits and only hoped that whoever would be receiving them today truly deserved it. Alyze grabbed Syrena by the arm, pulling her close to their side. 

“You need to promise me something,” they said, their dark box braids brushing against Syrena’s forearm, “I need you to be one of us if your clone and his friends are the ones here. I need you to remember who you are.” 

Syrena looked up at Alyze, their dark eyes boring into her own pink ones, “You ever regret it? Letting them determine who you could be with or love, like a good little Heretic?” 

Syrena’s words cut through the air, her accusatory tone causing Alyze to recoil. They dropped Syrena’s arm, “You’re the reason why we are here, Syrena. Don’t forget that.” 

Syrena watched Alyze follow Fenn out the door, a small twinge of regret surging through her bones before she shut and locked the blast doors. 

******

“How long until we are back online?” Commander Fox asked into his commlink, his station in a frenzy since they were locked out of the security system. He had taken a small group of troopers, along with Commander Blanche and most of the Sunburst Squadron, to go hall by hall, looking for the intruders. Two of the members were needed elsewhere. 

“Won’t know for awhile, sir,” the trooper on the other end responded. “We keep coming across more and more viruses.”

“Can you tell me anything?” Fox asked exasperated. 

“Got a good photo of the perps. It’s ‘bout 20 minutes old, can’t confirm where inside they are. Forwarding to you now, sir.”

He looked back to Commander Blanche, signaling for him to come over. With a long stride, Blanche made his way to Fox, speaking once he got close enough, “I think it’s best if we split up, my squad will head to the east while yours goes west. Cover more ground that way.” 

“I agree,” Fox said with a nod. In an instant a hologram photo was pinged to his wrist link. “These are who we are dealing with. Their running facial recognition now.”

Blanche took a long look at the hologram, his face dropping into a frown as he recognized one of the faces, “Dank farrik, Heretics. We need more troopers.” 

“Well that explains the other attack,”Fox said to himself. “Working simultaneously.”

“Other attack?” Blanche asked.

“Another group of four, what I’m assuming now, Heretics bombed a hospital. Thorn has the rest of my men and the 104th to help with the wreckage. 212th are trying to track them down.” Fox looked back to his wrist link, the blue hued photo flickering as the communication systems surged. He had dealt with Heretics before, lost men to them. They were feral and unyielding beings with no clear allegiance, which made them even more dangerous. “You recognize any of them?” 

Blanche took a closer look at the hologram, his face dropping when he did recognize one of the small figures, “Syrena Aster. She’s, uh...helped us a few times, been against us more.” 

If that were only the case. Blanche took a quick peek back at the rest of his men, his eyes settling on Bruiser’s large form before looking back at the hologram. 

“Do you trust her?” 

“I trust her about as far as I can throw her, and even then she’d probably turn around and stab me,” Blanche scoffed. 

“Do any of your men trust her?” 

Blanche was silent at this. It wasn’t a secret that Bruiser had some sort of relationship with the Heretic. Blanche and the General had both warned him against it, but Syrena had the heavy infantry trooper wrapped around her finger. 

“We don’t know what they are after or who paid them to get it. I need to know if any of your men would hesitate at any moment with doing their job.” 

“They’ll do their jobs,” Blanche snapped. “It’ll be fine.” 

Fox paused for a moment before nodding curtly, “We’ll meet back here in 30 minutes if we don’t find anyone.” 

“Got it,” Blanche said.

“And Commander,” Fox said, dropping the informal nature of their conversation, “If they went to where I think they were going, we can’t let them get away with that information. Engage if your team finds them, kill ‘em if necessary.”

Blanche nodded again, his hands clenching and unclenching. He turned away, stalking back to his team. His mind was a mess. It just had to be her with them, couldn’t have been some faceless Heretic that they didn't know. But this was Syrena and although most of the squadron found her just tolerable, there were others that liked her, that needed her. 

“We know who we are dealing with, Blanchie?” Max asked. Just his soothing demeanor was enough to calm the Commander down. 

“She’s short, blonde, and green,” Blanche said, “and more annoying than a Gungan.” 

“Syrena’s not that annoying,” Max argued softly. Blanche could picture the smile on the sergeant’s face under the helmet. “Plus, she makes Bruiser happy.”

Blanche grimaced under his helmet, keeping a rather mean comment about how it was her mouth and cunt that made Bruiser happy, not Syrena herself. “You’re too nice for your own good.”

Max sighed. Maybe he was, but he’d rather believe that Syrena wasn’t as bad as everyone believed than condemn her to be just an evil seductress. He looked over to Bruiser, “You think he knows she’s here?” 

“No,” Blanche admitted, watching as Bruiser checked over his Z-6 rotary blaster cannon, “And let's keep it that way for now.”

Max nodded stiffly. He didn’t like keeping things from his team members, especially something like this. Blanche maybe didn’t see it, but Max had noticed the way Bruiser and Syrena were around each other. How they seemed to be each other’s center of gravity. He heard the noises coming from Bruiser’s room and the soft words they whispered to each other. He knew he wasn’t the only one that saw their searing looks and secretive touches. It was like they were making sure that the other was actually real, that they weren’t just some spectral being about to fade into the ether. 

The team moved out, Blanche only relaying that there were four possible perps: highly armed and highly dangerous. The hallways had been long abandoned, any officer or staff member told to evacuate the building when the alarms first went off. They went door to door, checking to see if anyone was hidden in the dark corners of unlit rooms. 

Blanche realized as they passed another empty set of rooms that they had transitioned into the Naval Intelligence headquarters and were approaching the main intelligence room. All of the GAR’s battle strategies, outpost locations, and other important information was stored there.

“I hear something,” Jaws said, positioning himself behind a large column. He signaled for the others to find cover. 

There was a large bang, like the sound of blast doors shut, followed by two bickering voices. 

“You egg her on anymore and I’ll let her kill you,” one said. 

“You would take that bitches side,” the other voice sneered, “You are both whores for Republic dogs.”

“Fenn,” the first voice dropped low and threatening, “if you speak to me that way again, I will tear your heart out of your chest and eat it before letting her finish you off.” 

The troopers were silent as the footsteps of the Heretic’s retreated down another hallway. 

“We need to get those blast doors open,” Blanche said. 

“I can shoot at it?” Bruiser suggested, lifting the blaster cannon up a little. 

Max shook his head, “Takes too long, buddy. I got some detonators, but I need to get closer.” 

“Alright,” Blanche said with a nod, “Sweets, Fuse, Blue, you three stay here and watch our backs. They might find a way to circle around. Bruiser, Max, Jaws, and I will approach the doors. Has anyone heard from Kami or Void?” 

“Kami said they shot down a ship that tried to escape to the lower levels, but can’t confirm who was in it or if it was even the one they were after,” Max said, “Void’s up in his arms in injuries.” 

“Alright, let’s make this quick so we can rendezvous with the General and others,” Blanche ordered, getting his blaster at the ready. He hoped it would be quick and simple. He hoped Syrena would see them and somehow convince her team to just back off and leave. 

But nothing was ever simple with Syrena.

The four of them slowly approached the blaster doors, their footsteps silent against the shiny floors, their warped reflections inching closer and closer to the intended target with each step. Blanche looked back for a moment, watching as Sweets, Fuse, and Blue’s figures got farther and farther away. The hallway seemed longer, more narrow, than it actually was. Blanche’s heart was racing, he could feel his hands and neck sweating the closer they got to the blast doors. 

“Fenn, You hear that?” a voice said. It sounded like it was coming from everywhere as the crisp sound echoed off the hallways. The four troopers quickly took cover behind columns and sections of the wall that jutted out.  

“No,” the second voice, Fenn, responded with a giggle, “but I can smell them. Looks like we’re going to have some fun after all, Alyze. Come out, come out wherever you are, boys. We just want to play.” 

Fenn’s voice was melodic and sweet, almost like she was singing to them. She was the one to fire first, sending a scalding red blaster shot where Jaws’s head had been seconds before. 

It happened all at once, blaster fire coming from both sides, igniting the hallway in angry flurries of red. It was so loud, so aggressive. The hallway flooded with smoke as the blaster fires sizzled and seared into the walls. 

“One coming from our end!” Blue called into the commlink. “I repeat, one coming from our end.” 

They had been able to find their way through the maze of hallways, with one Heretic approaching from the blast doors, while the other took charge from the other side. Though the Heretics were outmanned, their skills and ferocity made up for it. 

Blanche heard a strangled cry before Blue’s voice echoed through the comms again, “Sweet’s been hit. He’s alright, just a shot to the shoulder. Can’t see the perp though.” 

“Stop hiding!” Fenn’s teasing voice echoed above the blaster shots, “I want to play!” 

Blanche turned to Max, “Are we close enough?” 

Max peaked over the side of the wall, a blaster shot narrowly missing his head. It singed the cheek of his helmet, leaving behind a blackened streak of soot, “I can’t tell. Might get the door, might miss it. It’ll be a good distraction though.” 

Blanche thought for a moment. They hadn’t seen or heard from Syrena. She was either inside of the room or Blanche had  misidentified the person in the holophoto. He secretly hoped for the latter. 

“Do it,” he ordered Max, “Get that kriffing door open.”

Max nodded, reaching to his side and taking out two thermal detonators. One was bound to hit the door, right? He pressed the bottoms on the top, making sure the red light was blinking before he crouched down. He swung his arm back, ready to release the detonators before Bruiser’s voice on the other side of the hallway made him hesitate. 

“Syrena?” Bruiser called. He ceased fire as he saw Syrena appear from behind the blast doors. 

“Wait, wait! Max, wait!” Blanche hurriedly said, looking down at Max. 

But, it was too late. 

The sudden change in order didn’t catch up fast enough with Max’s hand and one of the detonators was released, rolling down the hallway. He quickly shut off the other, the red light disappearing as it powered down. He let it drop to the ground in a thud. But the other one continued to make its way down the hallway right towards Syrena.

Max and Blanche both looked at each other, before looking back at the detonator. Max attempted to scramble forward to get it, but a blaster shot from Fenn forced him back. Blanche watched as Syrena’s face contorted from confusion to panic and she took in the scene before her. He realized she didn’t know they were the ones that would deal with the intruders.

She didn’t know. 

“Oh no,” Max and Blanche whispered at the same time, as Syrena’s expression changed again to horror as the detonator rolled past her foot and into the room.

****

Syrena watched as Nettie continued to shift her way through the Republic firewalls, installing virus after virus so that they wouldn’t be able to stop her, while she simultaneously scoured through the information. It was taking the Rodian longer than expected to get to everything and scramble it to her server the created just for this. The uploading process was the longest, having to go through multiple security systems in order to begin the upload. 

The two heard loud blaster shots coming from beyond the blast doors, ricocheting off of the thick metal with a booming twang. They had started only a minute ago, getting louder and louder as whoever was out there closed in. 

“How much longer?” Syrena asked, stepping behind Nettie and looking over her shoulder. She scrunched her nose, unable to read the various symbols and numbers that Nettie was typing. 

“This one file is giving me some issues,” Nettie said, her teeth gritting. “Go see if they need help.” 

“Alyze told me to stay with you,” Syrena argued. 

“I know what they said,” Nettie snapped. She clenched her fists once, taking a calming breathe, “Your energy is just too much for me to handle. Just go...I should be done any minute now.” 

Syrena bit her lip, leaning back up and stepping away from the workstation. Nettie’s shoulders seemed to relax as the shadow of nervous energy retreated with Syrena. 

Syrena clicked her wrist link, “What’s going on out there?” 

“We’re taking on heavy fire. Hurry up in there,” Alyze answered. 

“I’m opening the blast doors,” Syrena said. “Nettie’s almost done, we can hold up in here until she’s finished.” 

“That’s a negative,” Alyze growled, “Don’t open the doors. That’s an order.” 

“Oh, bite me,” Syrena quipped back. 

She walked to the blast door, clicking the controls for them to open. As they slowly began to unlatch, that unsettling feeling settled in Syrena again. It was painful and tight, slowly swirling through her chest and stomach all the way to her fingers and toes. The door continued to open and Syrena ducked to evade a stray blaster fire. 

“Syrena?” a familiar voice said, the booming sound muffled by the blaster fire. 

She looked up, recognizing the voice. Realization slowly melted into her bones as she watched Alyze and Fenn fire at the Sunburst Squadron. 

“Wait, wait!” a man hurriedly called out, “Max, wait!” 

Syrena watched as the clone sergeant rolled a circular thermal detonator towards the opening door. It was like time had turned to cooling lava, thick and heavy and moving slowly, and all she could do was watch. Her breath hitched in her throat as it rolled past her feet and towards where Nettie was seated. 

“Almost got it!” 

“Nettie, move!” 

Syrena and Nettie shouted at the same time, the Rodian not seeing the explosive stop just shy of her feet. Syrena began to rush forward, towards Nettie and the bomb. 

The explosive went off and Syrena was launched out of the room in a burst of smoke and flames. Her head slammed against the metal floor and she felt a sharp pain through her side. Syrena could only hear the yells and screams of everyone around her before she succumbed to the darkness. 

She woke up to Fenn screaming at someone to stay quiet, followed by a loud crunch. Her eyes shot open, realizing that they were back in the room her and Nettie had been in. Though, it looked nothing like the room anymore. It was like a bomb went off. Syrena slowly remembered that a bomb did go off. 

Her eyes followed a body sized streak of blood leading from the blast doors right to where she was located, propped up against a cabinet. She was sure she would have remembered being dragged back into the room, but everything was a blur since the explosion. Syrena tried to take a deep breath, tried to blink away the black spots that clouded the edges of her vision, but her lungs stung. She sputtered out a cough, phlegm and blood dripping onto her chin as she took in her surroundings. 

The tightness in her chest and burning in her lungs increased as she saw Nettie’s mangled and charred body lying peacefully on the ground. She was missing an arm and the lower half of her left leg. Syrena blinked away the tears that threatened to spill over as she was overcome with grief. She remembered letting Nettie expertly braid her hair when they were younger and the countless hours they spent consoling each other after a particularly rough day. She remembered her final goodbye as Nettie moved out of the tiny space they shared, the silent words of sisterly love and adoration for one another passed through the Force.  And now, nothing. Nothing in the Force was signaling to her that her fellow Heretic...her friend was alive. 

Syrena heard another one of Fenn’s engaged screams and she looked to the commotion. Alyze and Fenn, in their rage, had somehow managed to incapacitate every member of the Sunburst Squadron, bringing them to the center of the room and binding their hands together. Not all of them were awake and in her haziness, Syrena couldn’t tell who were the ones that were lying motionless on the ground.  She could see the rise and fall of their chests, soothing the panic that rose. They were all alive. 

But Nettie was dead.

“Syre, can you hear me? It’s Ja-”

“I said shut the fuck up!” Fenn screamed at the helmet clad trooper, her brass knuckle covered fist slamming to the side of his head. The plastoid cracked under her punch and his helmet was launched off his head. 

Jaws. 

“That’s enough,” Alyze said, cutting through Fenn’s rage. They were close to Syrena, hurriedly scouring through a medic bag. 

Fenn growled something incoherent as a response. She gripped the collar of Jaws’s chest plate, dragging him over with the rest of the members. She wrapped a piece of fabric around Jaws’s mouth, mumbling how tired she was of his pleas and sobs. 

As she blinked away the black spots, Syrena could make out the bruised and bloodied faces of those without helmets: Blanche, Max, Jaws, and Bruiser. Her heart clenched and she attempted to get up, but a sharp pain in her side stilled her movements.

Alyze bent down next to Syrena, grabbing the green woman’s face in their scarred hands, “How do you feel?” 

“I can’t,” Syrena coughed out, bile rising in her throat, “I can’t fucking breath.” 

She touched her chest and her stomach, her breath hitching once again when she felt a piece of smooth metal sticking out the side of her abdomen. She gripped the metal, yelling out in pain as it moved inside of her. 

“Syrena,” Bruiser called, trying to break free from the restraints. Fenn hit him across the face, telling him to be quiet. It only caused Syrena to move around more, wanting to wrap her hands around the Zabrak’s throat and squeeze until the bones cracked.

“Calm down” Alyze said softly, their larger hand wrapping around Syrena’s. 

“I have a fucking piece of metal sticking out of me, Alyze! I’m not going to be fucking calm,” Syrena growled, “Get this thing out of me so I can kill that bitch!”

“You always were so impatient.” Alyze rolled their eyes, “On the count of five, we’re going to take this out and then I’m going to stuff the wound with bacta and cover it. It’s not going to be pleasant.”

“You know what isn’t pleasant-” Syrena started, glaring at them. 

“Will you hurry it up already?” Fenn snapped, interrupting Syrena, “We don’t have the time to diddle daddle around.” 

Syrena took a deep breath in before looking at Alyze and nodding stiffly. 

“Okay...one, two three-” Alyze ripped the piece of metal from Syrena’s abdomen, a thick river of blood running out of the wound. 

“I thought you said on five!” Syrena snarled. She felt like her entire body was on fire as Alyze stuffed the wound with bacta. The pain was almost unbearable.

“You’ll live,” Alyze quipped. 

They put one large bacta patch on top, covering the rest of the wound. With careful hands, Alyze wrapped gauze around Syrena’s abdomen and stomach, tying the ends tightly. It was already stained on the edges with her blood, but it would keep her alive until they found a doctor. Alyze slowly helped Syrena up, allowing her to lean against the cabinet. She would need help to get back to the ship, further setting them back. But Alyze couldn’t lose another person.

All three of their wrist links beeped, causing the Heretics to look at the notification, though Syrena’s movements were lethargic and slow. Nettie had done it: the last of the information had been uploaded to their server. 

“Let’s go,” Alyze ordered, wrapping their arm around Syrena’s middle, “Leave them here.” 

Alyze began to take their first steps forward before Fenn’s growling voice stopped their movements.

“We can’t leave yet. We have rules for situations like this Alyze.”

Alyze shut their eyes tightly and cursed under their breath. They hoped that the surprise of the explosion and the news that they successfully completed their mission would be enough. But Fenn liked to follow the rules and was stubborn enough to risk them getting captured to see them through. 

Alyze gazed down at Syrena, expecting her to make some sort of sarcastic remark, but she was silent.  They had seen Syrena take worse hits and injuries. Kriff, Alyze had been the one doing the damage to the shorter woman a few times. But here, as she leaned against Alyze’s body, it looked like Syrena was about to fall to the ground dead. She wasn’t even looking at Fenn. Her pink serpent-like eyes were bleak and focused entirely on the clone troopers kneeling by Fenn’s feet. 

“This is the one that did it,” Fenn said, standing behind Max and pushing him forward. He fell hard onto his hands. 

“We don’t have time for this,” Alyze tried to argue. 

“Well, make time!” Fenn yelled, “Nettie is dead because of him. Syrena is injured. He needs to die.” 

Blanche, Bruiser, and Jaws all protested at once, Jaws’s voice muffled by the gag. 

“Please,” Blanche pleaded, his lip split and left eye swelling from Fenn’s beating, “Please, I’m the one that gave the orders. Leave him.”

“Blanche,” Max said softly. 

“No! Just-just shut up, Max.” Blanche looked to Alyze. “Take me instead.”

“We are not as lawless as you might believe, clone,” Alyze said, “We do follow a code. You may have said the orders, but your hand was not the one that released the detonator.” 

“I’ll do it,” Fenn said, taking her vibroblade out. 

“No.” Alyze looked from Max to Syrena. “Syrena has to be the one to do it.”

“What? No,” Bruiser said harshly, “No she isn’t doing anything. Syre...tell them you aren’t doing anything.” 

“You can’t be serious, Alyze,” Fenn scoffed, “She doesn’t have it in her. She’s grown soft. If anything, we should tell Myrkos when we get back and have her sent to the Pit or, better yet, decommissioned.” 

Syrena was still silent. Her gaze went from the Sunburst Squadron to Nettie’s body. She wished she had been quicker to realize what was happening, faster on her feet. She was a Heretic for crying out loud, she could have Force pushed Nettie out of the blast area. But she was too focused on the Sunburst Squadron, too focused on worrying about their safety. In that moment, she allowed them to make her forget who she was and it cost her friend her life. 

“She is the only survivor of the attack,” Alyze explained, “She knows the rules, a life for a life, and she will follow them.” 

“Syrena, please,” Blanche begged. 

“I’ll do it,” she whispered, her eyes tearing from Nettie to Max. All she could think of when she saw him was her failures. Her failure to keep Nettie alive and her failure to keep the Sunburst troopers safe and out of Heretic politics. She didn’t want any of this, but it was happening and she couldn’t stop it.

A cacophony of no’s and pleas came from the clone troopers as they all tried to break free of their constraints. Fenn backhanded Blanche, causing him to stagger to the side. He spit out to the side, a mixture of his blood and salvia splattering against the concrete floor.

As Syrena staggered towards Max, Blanche and Bruiser continued to plead with her, offering their life in exchange for his. It was a noble appeal really, but Syrena knew that it wouldn’t meet the most rigid law of the Heretics. And she knew Max wouldn’t allow it to happen; he wouldn’t let one of his brother’s suffer a gruesome fate for something he did. He took a life, so he would pay for it with his own. 

Syrena didn’t want him to die. She knew Max, knew the kind of person he was. He was kind, almost to a fault. He was nice and welcoming to her the moment they met, something not even Bruiser had been. 

But rules were rules and Syrena was ready to follow them. She would be the one to watch the light leave his eyes, to feel his last breath waft against her face, to add him to her list of lives that she wished she could bring back.

She would be his murderer. 

Syrena slowly kneeled in front of Max, ignoring the searing pain in her side. She blocked out the room, shutting out Blanche and Bruiser’s cries and Fenn’s yells for them to be quiet. She focused entirely on Max, taking in how he had sat back on his knees, his shoulders slumped forward and into himself. He hadn’t looked up since Fenn had brought him forward. His eyes were locked on Nettie’s body, and Syrena could see a few tears begin to stain his tanned, flushed cheeks. She reached out and touched one of them, rubbing the tear between her fingers.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he whispered softly to her. “I didn’t mean-I didn’t want to kill anybody.” 

“I know,” she replied, her hand moving to rest on his shoulder. “You understand that I have to do this.”

He finally looked up at her, a small warm smile appearing on his face, “Yeah…It’s alright.” 

“It’s not alright.” Syrena couldn’t help the way her voice broke, as she settled her other hand on his other shoulder. “Are you afraid?” 

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “Are you?” 

“Terrified.” 

Max nodded back to Bruiser, “Take care of him will you? Take care of all of them. They need someone to keep them on their toes.” 

“Can hardly take care of myself,” she replied with a small smile. 

“You aren’t as bad as you think you are, you know? I can see it in your eyes.” 

Blanche’s broken voice cut through the air, “Please, Syrena. Please don’t kill him. I’m begging you.” 

She could hear the sobs he tried to hold back. She wouldn’t look at Blanche or the others. She couldn’t. So instead, she let her pain and anger take over, allowing the Dark Side to wash through her system and act as a crutch. Syrena didn’t want to feel this.

Max turned his head, his sweet smile still on his face as he looked at Blanche, “It’s okay Blanchie, I got this.” 

His last syllables were short and stuttered as the hidden knives in Syrena’s wrist vambraces sprung out, sinking deep into his chest. Bruiser and Jaws choked out sobs, their cries flooding the room as they were unable to form words. And Blanche. Blanche was beyond broken. 

Max turned his head back to Syrena. She had gotten him in the weak points of his armor, piercing down into his heart. She watched, her face expressionless, as his sweet face, still smiling softly at her, became still as he slumped onto the ground. His wonderfully warm eyes faded into nothingness. 

A life for a life.

“NO!” Blanche screamed, trying in vain to get up. All he saw was red, all he felt was pure agony and hatred as Syrena slowly pulled her hands back, revealing the red covered blades. “No!” 

Fenn put her vibroblade to his neck, “You clones just don’t know when to shut up do you?” 

“Back off Fenn,” Syrena said weakly, unable to tear her eyes from Max’s body. She hurt all over and her side stung. 

“Maybe I’ll have to make you shut up,” Fenn laughed, ignoring Syrena. 

“I said back off!” Syrena shouted, Force pushing Fenn away from Blanche and the others. She was on her feet in an instant, ignoring the dizzying pain on her side and head. “We got what we came here for, now let’s go.” 

“Syrena’s right. They’ll be fully online and operational soon,” Alyze said. 

Fenn grumbled curses under her breath before putting away her vibroblade. She bent down and picked up Nettie’s body, slinging it over her shoulder with ease. They would need to give her a proper burial, a Heretic’s goodbye. 

She stopped by the Sunburst Squadron on her way to the blast doors, sneering at them. She was enjoying their pain. Enjoying how they seemed unable to process what happened. Bruiser and Jaws cried for their fallen brother as Sweets and Void began regaining consciousness. What a sight to wake up to: the body of their beloved sergeant dead in front of them and a seething Blanche. 

Fenn grabbed Max’s helmet from the ground, tossing it once in the air before smiling ruefully at Syrena, “A nice trophy, don’t you think?”

Before Syrena had the chance to lunge at her, Alyze wrapped their large arm around Syrena’s middle again to keep her from falling. She hadn’t even realized that she was losing balance. Her wound needed immediate medical attention.

Syrena didn’t look at the Sunburst Squadron as the three Heretics made their way out of the room. She didn’t watch as they scrambled to Max’s side, didn’t see Blanche’s binded hands grab his face. She tried to block out their cries and broken Mando’a, but their words and pleas for Max to wake up invaded her mind. It would be the sounds to haunt her dreams for the rest of time.

Alyze pressed the button on the controls for the blast doors, the heavy metal doors slowly shutting behind them to lock the clone troopers in the room. Syrena, with the last of her fleeting strength, waved her hand, sending a burst of Force energy to the troopers. All at once, their bindings fell to the ground, allowing them to hold each other and hold Max. 

The blast doors closed with a loud bang and all Syrena felt was pain and regret.

[detroitbydark]

So I shared this with the wonderful @jangofctts already but I was embarrassed by my horrible lack of basic editing. Here's a better version. Thank you @jangofctts for creating such a wonderful character and a wonderful squad as a whole. If you haven't checked out Sunburst Squad you need to. Now.

Title: Unclean

Characters: Reader/Void of Jangofctts’ Sunburst Squad

Summary: We all reach a breaking point, some are just lucky to have someone to cradle our landing.

Warnings: vague mentions of the horrors of war. mild allusion to PTSD. Angst/softness.

Word Count: 1K

He’s staring at his hands when you walk out of the small field theatre. 

Disgust roils in your gut. Another day of war. Another life wasted. You peel off your gloves and hear them smack wetly against the bin as they hit the edge and slide down the side.

That’s when you see him turn the water on again. The steam hits the air forming a protective cloud around him. The air is crisp otherwise and a harsh breeze sneaks under a side of the makeshift field hospital. 

Void applies soap and scrubs. You can see the almost methodical way he normally cleaned begin to become frantic. He’s digging harder. His short blunted nails scratch against the palm of his hand, the paler skin blooming into harsh red between the scalding water and manic way he works at it.

“Void?” You say his name. He doesn’t twitch. You take a step closer and say it louder. “Void?”

The clone and you had become friends of a sort. You slipped steaming caf under each other’s noses when bad days happened You slide ration packs in front of homescreens to remind each other to eat. You didn’t speak much but this life didn’t allow for much idle chatter. You knew Void didn’t sleep enough, you knew he liked his caf black with just a splash of cream, you knew he valued the lives of his brothers and those in his care more than his own. That’s all you needed to know.

You watch as Void’s hands stop their furious work and grip the edge of the sink basin.

“Void?”

“They’re not clean.” He says looking down into the still running water. “They won’t come clean.”

There’s nothing normal about his voice. The strain, the way it cracks as if he’s hanging on a razors edge. Void was steady if not a little irritable. Void could control himself. Why was the man you were staring at sounding like he was seconds from breaking.

You all have been these last few days. It was a brutal campaign run by a young Jedi Knight who was getting more men killed than not. 

He says your name quietly. 

“I’m here.” 

He reaches for the soap again and this time you take it before he can start, insinuating yourself into his space. His head tracks slowly to yours and he blinks dumbly. Dark circles crowd under his eyes. You think to ask the last time he’s slept but it has to be just as long ago as your last time. Maybe longer.

“They’re not clean yet.” He says again slowly, the words gritted out through his teeth, “I need them clean.”

“Let me help you?” He doesn’t fight you as you set the soap down and cup his hands in your own. They’re red front and back from his attempts to clean them free of any dirt or debris but otherwise pristine. You frown but turn away before he can see. 

The first thing you do is turn the hot water down. It’s luke warm after only a minute and you're sure there’s a trooper who will thank you for not letting all the hot water be drained from the small travel tanks. You feel it against your wrist like checking milk from a baby's bottle. Body temperature and perfect you step between him and the sink. It’s a snug fit and you can feel him pressed along your back. Tension radiates through his tired frame. He says nothing as you take his hands in yours and move his arms around your body. Slowly you run them under the water before grabbing the soap. Void is taller than you, heavily muscled and broad but he’s incredibly gentle when he sets his chin on your shoulder. 

You set his hands on the edge of the sink and lather your own before picking up one of his. You use the slippery soap to slide your fingers over and around his hand. Your fingers slip through his and your thumbs press and massage along his thumb and along the lines of his palm.

A ragged breath travels past your ear and goosebumps travel down your spine. 

You rinse the soap from both your hands and then relather before picking up his other and repeating the process. The tension bleeds from his body. You can feel the tired weight pressing into you but you don’t care, just brace one leg against the sink for support.

“Why are you doing this?” The question is whispered like he’s almost afraid to ask. You rinse his hand and shut the water off. A stack of towels sit on the shelf above you and Void reaches up and grabs one when you can’t reach.

You turn and find yourself locked between his arms. You still don’t answer. You don’t even look at him as you take the towel and dry the first hand.

“Why?” He asks again. 

This time you can’t stop yourself from looking up into his tired imploring eyes. He’s seen a lifetime of pain and yet still hasn’t known any of the good. Maybe that was what was so hard about losing troopers these days. It wasn’t just a life lost. It was a life  unlived wasted on someone else’s war.

“We look out for each other, right?” You offer a watery smile, feeling your own emotions from the day weighing you down. “All clean.” You try to sound perky but suddenly his gaze is too much and you feel like if you don’t get away you are going to wither under it.

You toss the towel in the bin and duck under one of his arms. Your focus is on the door and then on getting to your rack and getting a few hours of sleep before the next wave of wounded rolls in. You're almost free when Void’s hand on your arm stops you, spins you slowly to him. 

Void doesn’t break eye contact with you as he takes your hands in his own. He brings each in turn to his mouth and presses dry chapped lips to one than the other.

“Thank you.”