summary: tech comes to find you after a tough mission in an attempt to soothe your worries
tags/warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, lil bit of angst, friends to lovers, idiots in love (as alwayssss), self-critical reader, neurodivergent tech!
a/n: i've been working on this a stupid amount of time omg. I keep accidently turning everything into a long fic and i'm trying not to lmao
word count: 4.6k
The silver light of the moons gleams upon your skin as you sit looking out across the lake. The planet you've landed on to lay low for a while is beautiful, lush grass plains and vast bodies of water covering its surface, and thus far no creatures have displayed anything more than curiosity at your intrusion. The reflection of the two crescents glitters across the surface of the water, and you watch the way the light dances from where you sit cross-legged atop a large, flat rock. It's still, as if the scene before you is just a holo you took and are now looking back on fondly.
It should be hard to feel unsettled in a place like this, but you still manage.
A mission gone sideways, a mark mismanaged and lost, lives at risk — your own chief among them. As per usual, it was your fault. You've been with the Batch long enough that you shouldn't be a liability anymore, but you still find yourself always getting in the way if things. If measuring all of your blunders on a scale, this time wouldn't even be among the worst, but something about it is sending you over a precipice, lurching you towards realising the uncomfortable things you've tried to ignore all this time.
Because the truth is, maybe you aren't cut out for this life. Maybe all the planet hopping, running from the Empire and barely scraping by is just some kind of pipe dream that you can't make yourself fit into no matter how you try. Hell, Omega is a child and she carries it better than you. You joined their small crew on the basis of helping them out, but really, you can't keep up.
And maybe you never will.
After landing on this planet, you took off. You don't really care what the Batch think about it right now, and maybe you won’t have to worry about that kind of thing at all soon enough. It feels like you're at a crossroads. Two paths stretch out before you, and the easier one — the one where you give up and they leave you behind to return to a monotonous life — is more tempting than it has ever been.
Plucking a blade of grass from beside you, you sigh and turn your head downwards, watching as you methodically strip it part, string by string. Fiddling always helped you focus, and right now you're struggling. You can't seem to come to a decision.
The sound of soft footsteps against the forest floor pulls you from your thoughts, and when you look up, you spot Tech crossing the boundary of the forest. He doesn't see you at first, seemingly headed in a different direction, but then he catches sight of you. His steps falter a few metres away from you, and you only realise then, with the tension that the moment brings, that your cheeks are wet from tears of frustration. You hope that with the darkened sky he may not see them, but his expression gives him away. He looks as if his brain has just short circuited. He doesn't know what to do, and ordinarily it would make you laugh, but you're too aggravated right now to let yourself.
“Did you need something?” you ask him, keeping your voice quiet so as to not inject any kind of emotion.
“No. I thought—” he thinks better of speaking as his eyes flick over you, but then he takes another step, “I thought you might be upset”
You don't reply, only turn your head to look out over the lake again. An insect chirps into the silence and you wipe the cheek that faces away from the clone.
“The others insisted you were fine” Tech pipes up again, “they said you might need to be alone”
In the cavern of your mind, a reply comes, that they're not far wrong.
“But I disagree”
That makes you turn back, and you can't stop the way your brows knit together in a deep frown. You want to tell him that he doesn't know what he's talking about, that he doesn't know anything about you and has no reason to disagree with his squad. But that would be lying.
Tech has always had a way of seeing through you. You don't try to make it hard on purpose, but keeping your emotions close to your chest has always felt like a safer way to move through the galaxy. Over the course of your time with the Batch, Tech has been the one to peek beyond the veil of indifference more than anyone. You can't exactly pinpoint why, what it is about him that allows you to so often speak freely, but he manages it quite simply. He sometimes even finds a way to tell you how you're feeling before you even know it. It can be alarming, as much as it's comforting.
You don't doubt that it has something to do with drawing logical conclusions from a base knowledge of your habits and an awareness of how each emotion manifests in you. You find it easier to quantify that way, anyway. The idea that he'd be able to read you for a reason more personal, more intimate, makes your skin burn just at the thought. You don't even want to consider it. You've got your hopes up too many times before, and though you know him well enough now, Tech can be an enigma. It is difficult for you to tell what he feels at any given moment. Much less what he feels about you. Or for you. You try to ignore you own feelings for the most part, which is an unsuccessful venture.
“You're upset”
It comes not as a question, but a statement — and your knee-jerk reaction is to disagree.
“I'm not upset” you say, far more harsh than you mean to. As if it would soften your previous words, you add, “I'm frustrated”
Tech seems to openly contemplate the claim, tilting his head, “I do not believe those emotions are mutually exclusive”
You huff, almost a chuckle, and Tech dares to take another step closer. His hand flexes at his side, and he blinks a few times before he deigns to speak again.
“Would you like for me to go?”
The question pulls at your chest. It isn't spoken with an overwhelming amount of emotion, but there's an undertone of desperation that you've not heard from him before. You've never been this vulnerable in front of him, or really anyone, curled up on a rock and unable to stop the steady flow of tears down your cheeks. You wonder if he knows the depth of your distress from just the exterior, of the thoughts that swirl in confusing, unending patterns beneath the surface.
The problem now is that Tech likes to fix things, and he's good at it. You briefly wonder how he'd react if you told him that this may be something he cannot mend. You don't want him to leave really, you want him to stay with you and convince you there’s nothing broken to begin with. That is far too difficult and humiliating to say, however.
You can see he's already somewhat out of his depth, and right this second you don't have the capacity to be anything but blunt. After all, if it had been anyone but him, you would have told them to kriff off the moment they stepped out of the forest.
“You can go” you reply, and you realise it doesn't exactly answer his question.
Tech gives you a funny sort of look, like he's not yet sure what you mean to say. He steps back eventually, hesitant, and turns to leave — though before he's turned away fully he's already facing you again, brows drawn in a frown.
“Are you certain?”
An enervated sigh leaves your lips, because now given the opportunity for his company a second time, you can't stand to pass it up.
“Just— sit down” you sigh forcefully, turning outwards toward the lake in a cold sort of invitation for him to do the same in the space next to you.
Tech tentatively walks the final steps and takes his seat next to you, the plastoid of his armour scraping against stone. It's quiet for a long moment, but you can feel his eyes on you. Breaking the silence feels daunting, and you wouldn't know what to lead with even so. You can't make sense of your mind enough to speak it aloud.
“I don't want to misdiagnose the problem here” Tech says, his voice measured and quiet, like he's afraid you'll turn heel and leave any moment.
“You won't” you reply. Your voice is irritated, a little surly, and it's because you know him, and he knows you, so you know what he'll say next.
“Every one of us makes mistakes from time to time” he asserts plainly, “even me”
You scoff at his self-certainty, however founded it might be.
“No one seems to do so with the frequency that I do, though”
“Why does that matter?”
The question is innocent enough, but your whole body turns towards him, scandalised.
“Why would it not matter?” you ask, and you can't seem to stop the flow of words once they come. “All I do is try, and try. And it's me that screws something up, every time — I put myself in danger, or I put everyone else in danger, I lose the mark, I reveal our location, I use the wrong comm channel, or something else that's equally as stupid. Face it Tech, I'm a liability.”
Tech adjusts his posture so he's facing you, so you're face to face. “You're no more of a liability than anyone else” he claims, “there will always be risks, in the work that we do”
“That's— not the point” you say petulantly.
“Then what is the point?”
“I don't k—” you stop yourself, even though the sentiment has been delivered.
Tech sighs, and it deflates his posture. He crosses his legs to match you, and sets his face in a way that denotes something kinder than you feel you're worthy of. His knees are just brushing yours now, and it's a comfort that you need in this moment, but one you wouldn’t have asked for. You wonder if he knows that.
“What is it exactly that's upsetting you?” he asks, and his voice is soft. It's a tone he doesn't often employ, and you can't let yourself talk to him as you have been, so spiteful and irritated.
“It's hard to pin down” you admit, averting your eyes. “I just— I'm tired of having to learn as I go. All of you already have these skills, and I understand there's a reason for that, and that things take time, but I can't help but feel like I hold you back. That you shouldn't have to put up with my mistakes. When I—”
Your words run out as you feel Tech's glove against your cheek, wiping away the tears that stain them. Your breath stutters, and you're sure your eyes are wide as they snap up to meet his again. His touch is delicate, and he watches his own movements as if to make sure he's being careful enough.
His hand retracts, viewing you steadily. “Go on”
You take a breath and this time don't look away from him as you explain. “You… you could all move faster without me — be more efficient, you know? It's like I'm a stray that you've taken in and I'm still yet to find my feet. I was supposed to be helping you, but everything I do seems to just be a hindrance. I have so much still to learn that the rest of you can already do so easily”
“We're all more than happy to let you learn at your own pace. There is not another way that one can learn” Tech tells you, brows drawn.
“But… you shouldn't have to” you insist.
Tech's face screws up, and it's an expression that you detest. One that betrays he thinks you're being a fool.
“You are being deliberately obtuse” he says, firm, “I am sitting here and telling you that neither I nor the rest of the team care that you are less experienced than us. Why don't you believe that?”
You go to reply, but then his words sink in, and…
Why don't you believe him?
The Batch have given no indication that your mistakes are anything to balk over besides a general concern for your well being, and yet you've constructed this false image of how they see you; weak, inadequate, undeserving of their time and their care. That's not fair to attribute to them, when you know deep down that it's your own insecurity that brings those notions forth.
But… is there not still some truth to what you're saying?
You've been silent too long, you realise. Tech's frustration has melted away into something more quiet, more affectionate, and the way it lights a fire under your heart cannot be helped. The moment feels bittersweet, and it aches. Because even though you want to believe Tech, and you know that there is a place for you among him and his brothers, you don't know if it's a space you feel comfortable taking.
You sigh, resigned to the fact, and there's apology in your eyes before you go to speak. You wipe your palms on your trousers as they begin to feel clammy, and the way Tech straightens tells you he knows to expect a blow.
And…
You can't do it.
A silence stretches out between you, heavy, awkward, and painful. You suppose that Tech knows where your mind is taking this, what conclusion you're drawing from this line of thought. Even with the knowledge that he sees through you, sees your intentions to leave, you can't say it to his face. Maybe you're just a coward. And maybe that's been the problem all along.
“In case you were interested on hearing my version of events,” Tech begins, his voice quiet but edged with a confidence, “I would say that from a statistical standpoint you have not put us at risk any more than Hunter, or Wrecker. Certainly not more than Omega”
A quiet and watery laugh bubbles up and out of you, always enamoured by his way of quantifying the un-quantifiable.
“We have all made mistakes,” he continues, “I would argue that, where Hunter's mistakes often have some supposed ‘reason' behind them, and yours err more on the side of accidental, that your mistakes are far less incriminating in the grand scheme of things.” He pauses and watches the corner of your lips tick upwards, “and… if it's not too much for you to hear, I believe your perspective is skewed by emotion at the present”
You let out an indignant puff of air. He's right, and you know it, but it's not exactly what you want to hear right now.
“What I mean to say is…” he clarifies with a small eye-roll, “you are capable. And you have improved. You're just— choosing not to acknowledge it. For whatever reason”
You don't reply.
Is what he's saying true? Are you so blinded by your own insecurity that you can't see what progress you have made?
Tech stares are you, his brown eyes earnest in a way that always gives wind to the butterflies in your stomach. He's winning you over even when you're trying not to be. Only he can do that, you realise. It makes your heart ache. No one else could have talked you off of this ledge, even if it's only for now.
You smile warmly and turn to place your boots to the ground once more.
“Come on,” you mutter, bringing an end to the topic of conversation, “let's get back to the ship”
The clone wordlessly joins you in standing, and the two of you trudge back to the Marauder in companionable silence. The forest is humid even after the sun has set, and teeming with life. Glowing bugs flit about, lighting your way and guiding you on your journey back. You hadn't taken the time to appreciate the beauty of them as you had stormed past in your fit of rage.
When you reach the ship, you spot the others sat in a circle around a small campfire just outside the door. Hunter's vibroblade twirls in his hand, a nearby tree shows evidence of having had its branches removed, and the smiles that decorate the faces around the fire are wide. It's a view that warms your heart. You don't realise you've stopped walking to take in the scene until a hand is placed on your lower back. Tech is smiling gently as you look to him, and it doesn't occur to you to find it strange that he knows exactly what you're thinking.
Omega greets you with a wide grin and invites you to sit in the spot beside her, which you take with as much enthusiasm as you can muster, and Tech nudges Wrecker to budge up and takes the space opposite you. None of the team speak of your blunder, nor anything to do with the mission, only how they'll move forward from this point. Other than that, conversation is light, and happy. There's talk of memories of missions past, both from your time with them and from before you, with injections from Tech that give a more factual account of events. Wrecker, as always, tells him not to let the truth get in the way of a good story, but Tech hasn't ever fully grasped that concept. You try to keep your exceptionally fond smile secret, but Hunter catches it and raises a brow at your expense. You know he knows how you feel for his brother. There’s no hiding anything from that man.
It's all so normal. So simple. You do have a place here, even if your brain tells you otherwise in moments of weakness. But somehow, it's still shadowed by melancholy. You can't pinpoint what makes it feel that way, but you try not to dwell on it.
As the firelight dies, members of the team begin to peel off. Hunter goes with Omega first, who’s resting a weary head on your shoulder and still arguing that she’s not tired when being practically carried off to bed. Wrecker and Tech bicker back and forth good-naturedly as you watch on, until the larger of the two also retires with a yawn. That leaves you and Tech, and a silence is left in his brother’s wake. Your gaze is directed to the dying embers, and the lack of distraction leaves space for your mind to wander once more.
“You are still considering leaving, aren't you?”
Tech’s voice is almost a whisper, and there’s an emotion you don’t recognise hidden beneath it. Your eyes raise to meet his gaze and that emotion does not become any more known to you. Everything about him seems wound tighter than it should be, too rigid.
“I…” you begin, but realise you don’t have an answer.
His brows draw together in the quiet. He shakes his head a few times, slowly, and he looks away to the ground beside him. His jaw is set and his lips turned down. He’s clearly upset, in some way — but this specific type of upset is foreign to you, still undecipherable.
“Look…” you begin unsurely, “I just think it might be better if I—”
“No”
The word is absolute, unyielding, and it surprises you.
“No?” you question, and a disbelieving scoff worms its way out of you.
“You can't just… leave” he states, and though his teeth grind, he's still quiet as he repeats, “you can't”
“I can't?” this time you practically laugh, and when Tech finally meets your gaze, you realise what’s happening.
He’s not just upset. He’s angry.
You have never seen Tech be angry. Not once. What is most scary about it now, is that it’s not entirely clear why. You can see the way he interprets your laughter too. He thinks it's cruel, that you're laughing at him in this moment. You go to correct yourself, to apologise, but he pushes himself from the ground and starts pacing around on his side of the fire, like he doesn't know what to do with himself.
“I won't allow it” he says, but he's not looking at you anymore.
“You won't allow it?” you repeat back to him again.
He stops his pacing and turns to you, “are you having trouble hearing?”
The question seems genuine enough, but he's being so ridiculous you can't help it. “I think I might be”
Tech looks thoroughly unimpressed. His lips are turned down and he's looking at you like you've wounded him. Your stomach turns at the thought. Is he angry because you’re thinking of leaving?
“Look, Tech. I don't want to—”
“Do not do that” he interrupts with an accusing finger pointed at you, his anger flaring, and rolls his eyes when you have the nerve to look confused. “If you did not want to leave then you would not”
“Tech—” you begin, standing to walk towards him in an attempt to calm him, but he talks over you, resuming his pacing, before you can get the words out.
“You cannot just leave because it’s difficult. That's not right. That's not how things work, and that's not you” he assesses, shaking his head. His hands tighten to fists at his sides, and you realise you've never seen him be so worked up before, if at all.
“Tech, please—”
“No” he whirls on you and steps closer, “do you even—”
“Tech. Listen to me” you raise your voice ever so slightly, still soft enough not to wake those in the ship nearby. His words come grinding to a halt, and his mouth forms a straight line. “I was only thinking about it, okay?”
“How can you even entertain it?”
You level him with a look, squinting as if he's a puzzle you can't figure out. “I can't understand why it's so out of the question”
“Because it— it's that…”
You've never known him trip over his words before.
This new image of him is confusing you. The fact that he’s angry with you is sickening, and not giving a justification for it is so absurdly unlike him.
“Tech—”
“No” he says for what feels like the tenth time, but in this instance he turns and starts walking away.
You hiss his name again but he continues on towards the forest so that you’re forced to follow, struggling to catch up with his wide gait. It’s even darker now, fewer of the glowing bugs to light the path, and if you’re not careful you could lose him. You eventually manage to scramble in front of him with some effort. He stops in his tracks with an almost comical halt so as to not bump into you, and you catch his wrists when he goes to leave again.
“Stop this” you urge, gripping his wrists tighter when he protests, “talk to me”
Tech’s grimace tells you that he’s resistant to the idea.
“Why do you want to leave?” he asks, and while it’s not what you wanted from him it’s more welcome than the staunch dismissal of the last few minutes.
“I—” you huff, and let go of him so his hands hang limply at his sides, “I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m really cut out for… all this”
“That’s ridiculous”
“Is it?”
His frown deepens further, and he doesn’t give an answer. “You could walk away from us that easily?”
“Well, no. I—”
“You haven’t considered how that might upset the others?” he says, and his voice raises the more he goes on, “Omega would be distraught. As would Wrecker. Hunter would hold it together because that is his way, but I know without doubt that losing another member of our squad would hurt him beyond measure. We cannot afford to lose anyone else!”
The ghosts of those missing squad members rest heavy in the sudden quiet. You've never known Crosshair, not as an ally at least. Tech rarely speaks about him and when he does it's detached, like he can't afford to look beyond the facts of what happened. You do know Echo, however. He is someone you grew close to, and the hole in your chest caused by his leaving stings anew as you're accused of following in his footsteps.
Tech is right. Of course he is.
Causing that pain in someone else is too much to even begin to consider. Thus far you'd only been looking at it from your perspective. Your own self-deprecation had caused you to be entirely selfish, as it turns out.
“Why are you shouting?” you ask him softly.
“Because I want for you to stay with me!”
His exasperation gives you pause. His turn of phrase is so specific that it all clicks into place at once. Your eyes widen in realisation.
He does return your affections.
Tech likes you.
Usually you wouldn't be so bold in assuming such a thing but you know you're on the money when his own eyes widen to match yours, knowing he's exposed something he didn't intend to.
“I— us! To stay with us” he groans and digs the heels of his palms into his temples, closing his eyes and giving into frustration, “forgive me for being upset that you would abandon me so readily for— agh! Abandon us! All of—”
His frustration is almost adorable, but you can’t take it any longer.
Your fingers find the collar of his cuirass and you pull his body towards yours. He stumbles slightly and his words muddle but your lips are on his before he can ask the question you see in his eyes. He doesn't react immediately, and for that second you fear that you've miscalculated. He's frozen, and you're about to pull away, but then you feel the tension in him unwind.
He melts into it slowly, gaining more confidence by the second. His hands raise to frame your face, bringing you even closer and tilting your head to deepen the kiss. It isn't too hurried, nothing like his desperation from before. Instead, it feels like how a long-awaited kiss should; saying what can't be told with words.
You pull away and look up at him, breathless. His pupils are blown wide, his lips are parted, his chest heaves, and a light blush is dusting his cheeks. You're sure he's never looked more gorgeous than in this moment.
He speaks your name, “what…?”
He's clearly lost for words, and he's looking at you like you might still break his trust and leave after all.
“I—” you try to find a way to consolidate all of your thoughts in one intake of breath, landing on “I'm not going anywhere”
“I know” he says as he drops his forehead to yours, and the corners of his mouth lift into a smile that gives a sense of playfulness, even as you see the relief in his eyes, “I already said that you weren't”
Before you can go to tease him, he presses another kiss to your lips. His thumb caresses your cheekbone and you lean into the tender touch, all thought of taunting leaving you. He is all-consuming, and your mind stills. Your worries fade. The dull hum that seemed to buzz at the back of your brain clears out and things come into focus.
summary: having to distance yourself from wolffe after a slip up is a lot harder than you thought it would be
tags/warnings: 18+ for suggestive stuff, angst! with a happy(ish?) ending, forbidden relationship, love confessions, kinda idiots in love, wolffe is down bad and not sorry about it, reader is lowkey delirious and v emotional bc of lack of sleep, allusions to sex but otherwise sfw
song: on your side — the last dinner party
prompts: #21 "when's the last time you actually slept?", #9 "come lie with me, let me hold you."
a/n: okay it's official, wolffe is my fav clone to write for. um, idk if anyone else has ever been so exhausted but not able to fall asleep to the point where you’re literally distraught? I hope this is not a unique experience otherwise this fic makes no sense lol
event masterlist / star wars masterlist / join my taglist / wc: 3.1k
requests are closed, dialogue prompt is in bold :)
You messed up. Big time.
The memory of your misdeeds still replayed in your mind, days, weeks later. Your mind lingered on how his rough hands felt against your skin, how his breath mingled with yours, bodies melding together. His words haunted you, adulations whispered in a tone you’d never heard, sentiments you wouldn’t soon forget, no matter how you tried to.
Wolffe had invaded your brain even before you'd fallen into bed with him, but now it was inescapable.
You'd known it was a mistake as it was happening, that stepping over the line would do something irreversible, something you couldn't follow up on. The guilt of doing that to Wolffe, of letting him believe it was something that could be, was eating you alive. If you didn't feel so strongly for him then all of this would be so much easier, and could be written off as a simple blunder — but nothing about this was simple.
Wolffe had been shipped into an active warzone only hours later, and though worry pulled at your heart more than ever, you couldn't help but be partly relieved. When he’d returned, you felt even more conflicted.
He had caught your eyes from across the hangar, something distinctly timid and unlike him in the way he looked at you, and you had to tear your gaze away and leave the space. You couldn’t be anywhere near him. It hurt too much. You knew he’d noticed that you were avoiding him, it would be impossible given how close you were before everything had transpired, but he obviously had the restraint not to mention it.
Sleep was eluding you because of it. Pulling away from Wolffe felt like a physical pain, like the connection you had unwittingly created through the force was being sawed at, and you could feel every ridge of the knife as it cut. If anything, it was proof that you had become too close, that your connection ran too deep.
Now, duty demanded you be in the same room as him, and it was every bit as excruciating as you had expected. You were stood beside him in the command centre, and while your eyes were plastered to Plo Koon, all of your attention was taken by Wolffe.
You could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on you as you spoke, almost feel his breath against your cheek, the warmth of his body beside you. His presence was intoxicating, and even when you closed your eyes you weren’t free of it. His unique presence in the force reached out for you, and while you knew he wasn’t doing it intentionally, you wished he would stop. The familiar feeling made it so much harder not to fall into his arms and forget everything that held you back; a warm blanket, a comforting steadiness, deep red in colour, like the very last sight of the sun against the horizon.
You escaped as soon as you could, scampering from the command room at the first opportunity, but it seemed that Wolffe was done with the silent treatment. He grabbed your arm as you made it out into the corridor, dragging you into a quieter corner of the ship, a hall that ran to a dead end. His gaze was serious when you finally met it with your own, and it turned your stomach. You didn’t know if he was angry or hurt, nothing was given away in his demeanour.
Finally he spoke in a low voice, “are you alright?”
You blinked up at him, wondering how he could be so concerned by you at this moment. His hand still gripped your arm gently, his eyes darting between yours, brows furrowed. He took in your features like he’d never seen you before, and the scrutiny made your gaze drop.
“I’m fine” you murmured, trying to keep your voice even.
“You weren’t in your room last night”
Your eyes raised back to him as your heart skipped a beat, “how do you know that?”
“I went to see you” he confessed, never wavering in his serious gaze.
“Wolffe…” you sighed, looking up at him with a pained expression, “you shouldn’t have done that”
He huffed, stepping into your space, “why not?”
You exhaled slowly, “you know why”
Something in him stiffened, and he took his hand away from you, “what were you doing?”
“I just… I couldn’t sleep” you admitted, running a hand over your face.
“Why not?”
You sighed at his persistence, “it doesn’t matter”
“It matters to me” he muttered, his eyes flashing with hurt. He tentatively brought his hand up to your cheek, running his thumb under your eye. You knew you must look exhausted, and closed your eyes to let the feeling calm you. “When's the last time you actually slept?”
“I don’t know” you spoke quietly, almost ashamedly. Your eyes fluttered open to see the stern look he was giving you.
“Sarad’ika” he whispered the name he called you in only the most quiet of moments, drawing closer so his forehead almost touched yours. “If you won’t…” he sighed, “if you won’t let me take care of you then you need to take care of yourself”
Your heart seized up in your chest. “I—” you didn't know what to say, everything was running through your mind but it was all getting caught in your throat.
Your stuttering was interrupted by the sound footsteps reverberating off of the walls of the otherwise empty hall. Wolffe backed away from you, though he still started at you intently, even as someone walked between the two of you. Unlike him, it snapped you out of it.
“I— I uh… I'm going to my quarters now” you mumbled out, tongue tripping over your words.
You turned quickly, stalking down the hall in wide strides and not daring to look back.
It was the middle of the night and still, sleep wouldn’t take you. The frustration was getting on top of you again, and you paced back and forth in the small space of the ship that was yours. Hot tears sprang to your eyes, wetting your cheeks, and your hands gripped at your hair as if it would alleviate the tension in your head. You had been silently crying long enough that your head had begun to ache, and you silently begged to gods you didn’t believe in to let you sleep, to shut your mind of for just a few minutes so you might finally slip into unconsciousness.
It had been coming to this every night, where you felt as if you were being driven insane because sleep eluded you.
With a small sob, you darted for the door. A distraction, that’s what you needed now. You might wander the halls of the ship as you had in previous nights, or hole up in a cupboard somewhere so you could cry until all your tears were spent. You grabbed your robe as you went, clutching the thick material in a tight fist, but as the door zipped open you almost collided with something, someone.
Wolffe stood tall in the doorway, his hand raised as if he were about to knock. He took in your distressed state, eyes widening at the recognition of tears staining your face, and he reached out to you on instinct, taking ahold of your arms.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay” he immediately began to soothe you in a voice that was too soft for him. It only made your breathing more unstable, and you choked on your sobs. Wolffe backed you into the dark room and closed the door behind him, “what’s going on?”
The confusion — the worry — it was so plain in his eyes. It made you feel sick to your stomach. You dropped your robe to the floor.
“I just—“ your words were halted by your own sob, and you hid your face in your palms, “I’m so tired, Wolffe”
His hands wrapped around your wrists, his skin warm against yours, and he peeled your hands away from your face. He snaked his arms around your waist without another word, offering the relief you would never ask for but so desperately needed. You took it unashamedly, burying your face in his chest, letting yourself relish in the comfort of his touch. As your weeping continued, he held you tightly, one hand on the back of your head to stroke your hair as he whispered comforting words.
The exhaustion had clearly got to you. There was simply no other reason for this display of raw emotion.
As your breathing calmed, the storm in your mind subsiding to a grey fog, Wolffe’s grip loosened. He pulled back and took your face in his hand, and you couldn’t help but lean into its warmth just a little.
“Now,” he spoke quietly, “are you going to tell me why you can’t sleep?”
You sighed deeply as you averted your gaze, “do I have to?”
“No” he replied, “but it could help”
Your eyes creeped across his handsome features, taking in every mark, every freckle. You couldn’t burden him with everything that clouded your mind, you wouldn’t place another weight upon his shoulders when the war already saw him stretched so thin.
You shook your head, releasing yourself from his grasp and turning away, “it won’t help, it’ll only make things worse”
“Stop shutting me out” Wolffe’s voice was stern as he spoke up, and you looked up to find his brow furrowed deeply, the hurt evident in his eyes and the downturn of his lips.
“I have to” you said quietly, almost a whisper.
“No you don’t” Wolffe huffed, moving to crowd you against the table behind you, “I don’t understand why you’ve been acting like this, why you won’t look at me all of a sudden. I thought—”
He stopped himself. In all honesty, you hadn’t been thinking an awful lot about what Wolffe may be thinking about what had transpired, and as much as you knew you should bury the whole incident, move on and forget, a part of you needed to know. What he thought, what he was thinking now, what he felt. You shouldn’t ask, but you couldn’t stop yourself.
“Thought what?”
You could see that he regretted letting the words slip. “I thought things would be…” he trailed off for a moment, searching your eyes with a hint of desperation, “I don’t know, I just thought it’d be different from this, after—“
His teeth ground together. A quiet curse escaped him as he hung his head in defeat. He knew as well as you that this conversation would only breed more unease. You swallowed, taking a moment to centre yourself.
“We can’t be like that” you muttered.
You knew it was cruel, that he didn’t deserve to hear it put so bluntly, nor did he deserve what had already happened. You had been cruel, consistently, in entertaining this idea of the two of you, and even crueller in making him believe it could be. That was why this was necessary. It couldn’t go on.
He was quiet for a long moment, and when he spoke, it was uncharacteristically timid, his words almost shy.
“Would it be so bad?” he asked.
“Yes! Well, no it— but we can’t, I mean— I don’t know!” you could feel your breath becoming short again, and Wolffe placed his hands on your shoulders.
“Hey, breathe” he spoke softly.
You didn’t deserve him, that was clear to you now. He was too gentle, too good to you when you didn’t deserve it. Your breath steadied under his touch, and you couldn’t face pushing him off this time.
“This is what’s got you worked up?” he asked, and you nodded in reply. His face softened, and he raised a hand to your cheek. “Ner cyare” he whispered, “please don’t trouble yourself over me”
“I can’t help it Wolffe, I—”
I love you
You could so easily say it, and you would mean it, but putting it out into the world would go beyond crossing the line.
“I’m sorry, that I’ve been pulling away, but I can’t— I can’t do this” you insisted, gesturing vaguely between the two of you, unable to name exactly what it was.
“Why not?”
It was a simple question, but the answer was far more complicated. Wolffe gave you nothing but patience as he waited for the reply. His gaze was soft, as soft as it got with him at least, though any amount of tenderness that could be drawn from the man would be considered a feat. It was part of the reason that you struggled to answer him. It was simply too distracting, witnessing the depth of his feelings for you first hand.
When the two of you had slipped up, spent the night with limbs entangled in the cot just a few short steps from you now, it had somehow not occurred to you that Wolffe was in just as deep as you. He had shown his admiration in more ways than one; whispers against your lips and skin, tender touches and a sense of care in every endeavour. In the throws of pleasure it hadn’t registered as anything but that — seeking pleasure.
Now you weren’t sure.
“Because…” you began, barely uttering the word.
There were reasonings you could use, but none would present themselves as you looked into his eyes and were confronted with the depth of your own feelings.
“Because…?” he prompted, and you couldn’t help but sigh.
“Because nothing” you frowned, “because I’m a fool, and because you don’t deserve the only kind of relationship I could give you”
Wolffe matched your frown, “what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Think about it Wolffe, I’m… I’m a Jedi, right? You know what that means?”
He pressed his lips to a hard line, unimpressed at the reminder “I know what it means”
You exhaled shakily, and a sadness washed over you, “I couldn’t… I could only be yours in private, I wouldn’t be able to touch you in front of others, to hold your hand or even smile at you for too long. I wouldn’t be able to show the galaxy how much I love you, and that hurts me”
A second passed, and you realised what had been said.
It was as if an airlock had been opened, and all the air sucked from the room. The both of you stood perfectly still, staring at each other with widened eyes. You had crossed the line. It was all hypothetical up until now. But now, it was real. Neither of you moved, or breathed, until Wolffe let a quick and heavy exhale slip, as if in disbelief.
“Love?”
You swallowed thickly.
“I—“ you bit the inside of your cheek as your cheeks burned hot, “I didn’t mean to… tell you like this”
“Is it true?” he asked, deadly serious. His eyes searched yours, for what you didn’t know, but you knew the answer was already obvious in the way you dropped your gaze guiltily, as if the very act of falling in love were wrong.
“Yes” the whisper had barely left you when Wolffe surged forwards and met your lips with his.
He was warm, inviting, eager. He kissed you like a man starved, as if he’d been waiting a lifetime for this moment, and you let yourself give in. You kissed him back more insistently, and let his tongue pass the seam of your lips as he begged for entrance. His arms wrapped around you, holding you to him tightly, as if he was scared you might slip from beneath his fingertips. This feeling was becoming too known to you, too comfortable. It felt too right.
He pulled away, placing his forehead on yours with intention, “I love you, ner sarad’ika”
Your breath was knocked from you upon hearing the words, and you couldn’t help the way your mouth stretched into a tentative grin. You advanced forwards and pressed a more chaste kiss to his lips, and felt him smile back against you. Something about it set your heart fluttering more than anything before. Wolffe still held you, a hand flat against your back to keep you close, where the other held your jaw.
He ran his thumb over your bottom lip as he regarded you, speaking softly, “you have such a pretty smile”
A heat crept up your neck even now, after everything that had happened. Though soon, it began to transform in its meaning. Your smile faded, tears collecting in your waterline once more, and the heat burned at your collar uncomfortably. You didn’t cry as you had before, but the tears fell freely all the same.
Wolffe sighed, wiping them away with a disapproving shake of his head, “I said not to trouble yourself over me”
Your lips twisted with doubt, “you deserve so much more than this, Wolffe”
“It’s not about what I deserve” he reasoned, “it’s what I want”
“But I can’t give you anything”
“I don’t need anything”
You deflated with a huff, “it’s a lot more complicated than you’re making it out to be”
“I disagree” he mused, pressing a kiss to each cheek to collect the remnants of your tears, “I love you, and for maker knows why, you love me. I think that is all that’s important”
You pressed your lips together to stop them from shaking as you felt yourself welling up again, but Wolffe was all too quick to swoop in.
“We’ll figure it out” he promised, “together”
Looking up at him through teary eyes, you found your lips twitching upwards, “together”
The word was a comfort. Neither of you would have to navigate the struggle in isolation, you would support each other.
Wolffe nodded against you, and took your hands in his. You only realised now how they were shaking, and he pressed his forehead into yours with more purpose, peering deeply into your eyes as if he were looking upon your very soul.
“Come lie with me, let me hold you”
Your brow pinched, and you nodded your head in reply. He tugged you over to your cot gently and laid you down in the soft sheets, then stripped himself of his armour to lay beside you.
No more words were exchanged that night, for everything had already been said. His body was warm against yours, and though it didn’t magically lull you to sleep immediately, it was an undeniable comfort. Wolffe fell into unconsciousness before you did, his arms still wrapped tightly around you. Watching him rest calmed your mind. It gave you faith that any hardship the two of you faced going forward would be worth it. He was worth it.
description: when you get caught up in an inescapable cave-in, crosshair finds that some things are easier to confess when it feels like the end of the road
warnings/tags: angst for sure but not all the way through, crosshair is an angsty boy in a lot of ways, forced proximity, frenemies (?) to lovers — reader and cross have a strained relationship because of the aforementioned angstiness of the boy, perceived unrequited love, injury detail, blood & needles, jealous (and a bit insecure) crosshair, implied there might be something between hunter & reader (spoiler: there isn't), grumpy/sunshine kinda, reader is a medic (how original), reader is described as being a similar size to crosshair, some suggestive dialogue but nothing nsfw
a/n: I will make every clone yearn if it’s the last thing I do. sue me. also If anyone knows where I took the title from we can be best friends forever btw. and shoutout to @lonewolflupe for the ‘sky rodeo’ <3
masterlist | join my taglist | read on ao3
“Have you got your water bottle?”
Crosshair rolled his eyes, kicking off the side of the Marauder as you descended the ship’s stairs with an irritating pep in your step.
“Mm” he confirmed, taking a toothpick from his belt, already pre-empting a grinding jaw.
“Medkit?” you asked, stopping just next to him to secure the top of your knapsack.
Crosshair didn’t reply, he just gave you a sidelong glance of irritation, toothpick clenched between his teeth. You looked over to him, most likely upon realising he wasn’t going to answer, and deflated slightly at his expression.
“Crosshair, have you got your medkit?” you asked more pointedly, an edge of exasperation that made the edges of his lips quirk up marginally.
“Yes, I have” he mumbled out, turning away from you and catching Hunter’s glare as he walked in his direction.
Crosshair had to fight the urge to roll his eyes again, he already knew what he was going to say.
“She’s only trying to help” Hunter scolded him, “if I hear that you've given her a hard time—”
“Alright, I get it” Crosshair snapped, his gaze as sharp as his tongue.
Hunter gave him an unimpressed look, eyebrows raised and a sigh escaping his lips, “alright, try not to take too long, report back as soon as you've got a visual”
Crosshair didn't try to suppress his eye roll this time, “this isn’t my first sky rodeo, Hunter”
“I know, but—”
“You ready, Cross?”
Crosshair's head twinged to the side slightly as his eyes fluttered closed, his jaw grinding and teeth clamped together at the nickname. He'd pretend it was because he hated it, as he always did.
He didn't reply, instead stalking away from the two of you and off in the direction of your mission objective. He could hear the way your feet scurried to catch up with his long strides and huffed, gripping his helmet tightly at his side. He felt your eyes on him, running them over his armour, and it took everything within him to keep from meeting your gaze.
“How did you sleep last night?” you asked, making his jaw tick noticeably.
He knew you had recognised his poor sleeping habits of late, but he wasn't really in the mood to speak about it, especially as it had something to do with the fact that you'd started sleeping in Hunter's bunk. He wasn't sure why, but that was somehow even more torturous than knowing.
“Fine” he replied coldly, keeping his eyes ahead as the two of you followed the trail that lead down into the valley below.
You sighed, “Cross…”
“Don't call me that” he grumbled, no real bite behind the demand, “and I said fine, so drop it”
He saw your shoulders slump out of the corner of his eye and shook his head, disappointed in himself once again.
Truth be told, Crosshair was painfully enamoured by you. Smitten was a more appropriate description really. He certainly felt as if he had been smited by some cruel deity who deemed that his life was worth being made difficult. He bore it like an open wound that he tried to ignore, a mess that wasn't given the proper amount of care and attention, and bled into the way he treated you.
You’d always been too kind to Crosshair, far kinder than he deserved. As much as it was your job as a medic, you always took care of him in the same way as the others, even though they always treated you with a level of respect that he didn't. He wished everyday that he could take it all back, go back to the beginning and start over, let you know how much he appreciated you and your efforts, how his feelings had grown for you to the point where his chest ached every time your smile was directed at someone who wasn't him.
It made little sense, he knew that. He acted as if he didn't care whether you lived or died, but it was the fact that you didn't seem to care that made him continue to act that way. So he couldn't take it back after all, and maybe he wouldn't want to anyway, because how else could he get close to you? He knew that made little sense too, but very few things were clear to him when it came to you.
In any case, he'd go on suffering in silence, a suffering of his own making that he cursed himself everyday for.
You did have a friendship, of sorts. He wouldn't call it that, and would certainly never admit it, but you were insistent in trying to get him talking. The way it would play out often went along the lines of him teasing you, making fun of you, to see how far he could push you as a juvenile way of coping with the magnitude of his affections. It was the closest thing to affection he would allow himself. You often rebutted his teasing remarks with ones of your own, and as much as he appreciated you matching his attitude, he mostly wished that you wouldn't allow him to get away with it, that you would give him a reason to show how he truly felt about you.
Safe to say the opportunity hadn't arisen, and he wasn't crossing his fingers either.
This mission's objective was simple; go and scout ahead, and comm the others when it was safe for them to move out. Since your joining the group eight months ago, Crosshair had often been lumbered with you in situations such as this. As the sniper, he wasn't made for nor enjoyed close combat fighting, and as the medic with little combat training, it suited you to hang back until you were needed.
Thankfully, the terrain that you were traversing this time was straightforward, a narrow valley that brought you right up to a ridge that overlooked a separatist outpost. Although the area was simple to cut across, it only made the silence that stretched between you even more tense, with no buffer to distract either of you.
You kicked up dust into the air with the way you were dragging your feet, and Crosshair was half of the mind to replace his backpack with you just so he wouldn't have to hear the grating noise. Holding a datapad in hand, you tapped the screen, tracking the direction that the two of you were heading in.
“Two more klicks” you mumbled, cutting through the tension with all the effectiveness of a butter knife.
Crosshair grunted in reply, casting his eyes across the top of the valley as the two of you descended to the very bottom. His hand shot out, slamming against your abdomen and stopping you in your place.
“What is it?” you asked, your voice low as you saw the way his gaze skimmed the top of the valley.
Crosshair slowly reached back and took his firepuncher from his backpack, “we're being watched”
The moment the first blaster bolt flew, Crosshair grabbed your waist and pushed you behind him, bringing his blaster into position and picking off the sniper droids he could see. Each bolt found its mark, piercing the droids between their eyes.
“Find us some cover” he ordered as he shoved his helmet over his head, looking for incoming droids. He turned back the way you had come, blaster raised as he walked backwards. It was silent for a moment, the only thing he could hear being the gentle padding of your feet against the ground behind him.
“Crosshair, in here” he heard you call from not far away, and he gave one last look around the edge of the valley before turning and making his way towards your voice.
There was a small cavern at the base of the cliff, a hideaway cut from the rock, and it looked to have been used for shelter before. A small pile of logs indicated a fire, with stones outlining a pit of ashes, only just visible with the way the afternoon light shone in through the opening of the cave.
Crosshair squared himself with the wall of the cave to look outside, his back pressed against it as he followed the line of the cliff through his scope. He felt your presence next to him, your chin knocking against his spaulder as you peered over his shoulder. Your breath wafted over the sliver of skin between the top of his blacks and his helmet, and his breath hitched as the heat of it made his skin prickle.
“Stay” he muttered, stepping forwards to put some distance between you, and to make sure that it was safe to move again. He stepped out into the valley once more, his rifle raised and ready should he meet more adversaries.
It was eerily quiet, the whistling of the wind the most audible sound, carrying no others on it. Crosshair stalked around the base of the valley, making sure that no other droids were in the vicinity, and called for you to join him when he was sure.
“One moment” you muttered, “I think there's a stone in my boot”
Crosshair rolled his eyes, lifting his weapon to look through the scope and make extra sure that it was safe. He wandered around as he waited, his own boots softly crumbling the dirt beneath them, then came to a stop next to you after a few moments, watching as you buckled up your boot again.
You looked up at him and a small smile crossed your lips, but almost instantly dropped, as if you'd done something wrong, “let's go”
Crosshair felt his heart fall from his chest at the subtle action. The fact that you wouldn't even allow yourself to smile at him left a gaping hole through the middle of him, and he felt completely and utterly ashamed. He knew it was his own fault, he'd blame himself even if it wasn't, but he wasn't prepared for how the simple motion would bring his mettle to its knees.
As he was caught up in staring at you with an inscrutible expression, one that didn't give away even one ounce of the anguish he felt, a blast flew straight past him, and narrowly missed your arm. He pushed you back inside the cave on instinct, and whipped around to deal with the incoming attack, but upon seeing the increased amount of firepower now gunning for the two of you, he quickly followed you inside, picking off the droids towards the front of the formation as he walked backwards.
As the droids continued firing down at you, a blast lodged itself in the ledge above the opening to the cave. When the rocks there crumbled away, they seemed to focus all their fire above you. Crosshair didn't think about the immediate implications of it, he just kept knocking down what droids he could, but when you called out his name and grabbed his arm to pull him backwards, he understood.
The rocks came down almost in slow motion, but quick enough that the pair of you couldn't have made it out in time. Crosshair fell backwards as you tugged on his arm, stumbling and trying to find his footing before he was taken to the ground. In the scramble to get away, a rock snagged his shoulder, just between his cuirass and spaulder, and he released a deep grunt as it brought him to his knees with the impact.
For a moment it was quiet again, only the heavy sound of breathing being heard in the darkness of the cave. Crosshair kept his head down, trying to keep his breath even and cut out the pain from his wound, though it was quickly becoming apparent to him that his shoulder was not in any sort of good condition. He could feel blood tricking down his side, soaking through his blacks, and he felt himself becoming feint, his mind fuzzy and unfocused.
A light flicked on, shining directly at him, and he groaned again, the hand of his uninjured arm lifting to cover his eyes.
“Crosshair” your voice was a hoarse whisper, as if it had got caught in your throat, and it wasn't hard to guess why.
He slumped forwards slightly, his back hunching as he dug his knees further into the ground to distract from the pain.
“I know” he said quietly, not even having looked at the damage yet. He was far too concentrated on trying to ignore it.
The light flicked off with the click of a button, and he heard you shuffling around, your knapsack hitting the ground with a thud that told him you were moving quickly, your actions rushed. Soon after, a warmer light started growing, and Crosshair realised you had taken out a lamp, and were now dragging it over to him with a medkit in hand.
He looked up, the softer light not invading his vision in such a piercing way, and he could now see the worry in your eyes. His gut twisted, the uncomfortable feeling of guilt spreading through his body and only making his wound ache more. You knelt in front of him, ripping off his helmet before your hand gripped his spaulder and pulled it aside to get a proper look at the injury. The both of you sucked a breath through your teeth, Crosshair in pain and you no doubt because of how bad the damage was.
You got to work quickly, silently, and unclipped the top half of his armour to get better access. Crosshair was glad that you weren't talking, he was already embarassed enough, feeling infantile, crumpled to his knees and completely weak in front of you. He was powerless to do anything else, his head pounding and vision hazy as blood gushed from his wound.
“Hold this here” you said firmly, pushing a cloth into the wound and bringing him back to the present harshly, another pained noise leaving him.
He followed your instruction without much thought, and when he took the fabric from you to hold in place, he felt the way your hand was shaking. His eyes snapped up to yours, and the distress he saw written into your expression was enough to shock him back into full consciousness.
Crosshair watched your movements carefully, his keen eyes noticing every twitch and shiver as you fumbled with the syringe. He wanted to comfort you in any way he could, but truthfully, he didn't know how. It wasn't something he'd ever sought to do, and now faced with the challenge, he didn't know what would be the right thing to say.
“It's just a scratch” he mumbled, a small chuckle passing his lips in an attempt to at least alleviate some of the tension.
“A scratch?” you huffed, your voice disbelieving as you shot him a unimpressed look, “this isn't funny, Crosshair”
“Hey—”
“If I hadn't pulled you away you'd still be there. You'd be de—”
Crosshair called your name sternly, and you stopped your fiddling with the syringe to look up at him, “it's going to be fine, do you hear me?”
His voice was grave, and while he knew it wasn't necessarily a comforting tone, it was the best thing he could muster up with the panic steadily growing within him. Your eyes flicked between his, your shoulders relaxing slightly after a few seconds.
“Okay” you breathed out deeply, pressing your hand over his to hold the cloth tighter to the wound, “look to your right”
Crosshair could feel his pulse throbbing all over his body, the blood rushing through him and towards his wound, towards the hand that covered his and brought about such a reaction. Your skin was warm through the fabric of his glove, and he'd been so distracted by the touch that he barely registered when you had administered the pain relief injection into his neck.
You took your hand from his as you placed down the syringe, and then found the hem of his blacks, your fingers skimming along the edge, “I need to take this off, is that okay?”
“It's fine” Crosshair replied, taking the cloth away from his wound to allow you to continue.
You nodded once, and ran your palms across the skin of his abdomen as you peeled the body glove from him. Crosshair couldn't help the way his body shivered, the way his jaw clenched at the feel of your hands on his skin. His eyes locked with yours as you pulled the top up, warm knuckles brushing over him, and he let out a shuddering breath, trying to relax his mind. He groaned in pain, eyes screwing shut when he lifted his arm to help you take the shirt from his injured shoulder.
“I know, I know” you spoke soothingly, your voice measured and calm as you discarded the shirt, “I’m sorry”
“Don’t apologise” Crosshair hissed out, the pressure to his wound returning as you grabbed his hand once more and brought the cloth to his shoulder.
“Alright, here's what's going to happen now” you started, your hand still covering his as you held his attention, “I'm going to take this away and clean the wound first. It's going to hurt a lot, but it'll be over before you know it. Then I'm going to need to stitch it up”
“It's that bad huh?” Crosshair huffed a laugh, still not keen to look down at the wound, but he heard how strained his voice sounded in saying it.
“It's going to be fine” you assured him, and your fingers closed around his, gripping his hand tightly, “it'll only take a few minutes, and then it's just a matter of putting a bacta patch over it”
He breathed out deeply, his skin alight where yours was touching it, trying to remain as calm as possible.
“Alright, do it” he spoke, forcing his eyes away.
You gave his hand one last squeeze as you brought it away, and despite how it made his heart flutter, it wasn't enough to fight the stinging pain of the antiseptic spray.
As you cleaned out the gash, wiping away drying blood and dirt, you responded to Crosshairs groans and whimpers of pain with comforting words, telling him that it was almost over, and as much as he appreciated it, he only felt more embarrassed. In the lull between cleaning and stitches, he tried to take steadying breaths, but the antiseptic was still stinging at the open wound.
“Are you ready?” you asked quietly, and his eyes found yours again at the softness of your voice.
You held the curved needle in your hand, ready for whenever he said the word, and between his deep breaths and pounding head, he couldn't help but just sit and admire you for a moment too long.
“Do you want something to hold on to?”
“What?” he frowned.
“To grip, for the pain? or… something to bite down on?” you suggested.
“No, no” he dismissed, shaking his head.
“Okay, I'm going to start now” you informed him, and he nodded quickly.
As soon as the needle pierced his skin, Crosshair's hands shot out and gripped the fabric of your shirt, bunching it at your waist with the way his fingers tightened, his bones almost creaking beneath the pressure.
“Fuck” he breathed out, trying hard to keep himself in check, to distract himself by focusing on the rhythm of your breath.
“I know” you said gently, “you're doing well, just a couple more”
His head fell forwards, resting his forehead against your temple as you worked, and he instead found that he was losing himself in your presence. He could feel your breath against his cheek, steady and warm, where his was harsh and shallow. You continued to send comforting words his way, your sharp actions a direct contrast to your tone and sentiments. He focused on the sound on your voice, the scent of your hair, the soft fabric of your tunic between his fingers, and soon they began to loosen.
“There, all done” you pulled away from him as you put down the needle and peeled off the back of a bacta patch, and Crosshair had to catch himself from falling forward.
You placed the patch over the affected area, lightly running your fingers over the edges to press it into his skin, and he immediately felt the solution beginning to cool the flaming agony that stemmed from the gash. A breath left him, and he sat back on his heels more as his head tipped back in relief.
“Better?” you asked.
“Better” he replied, then looked down at you to see your worried expression taken over by something more unreadable.
You chuckled slightly as you tidied up the medkit, “don't worry, I'm not expecting a th—”
“Thank you" he spoke before you could finish, voice firm enough that your eyes snapped back up to his.
You cocked your head a little as you looked over his features, “well… you're welcome then”
Placing the medkit back in your knapsack, you produced a dark piece of fabric, handing it over to him. He looked at the black material clasped in your hand and realised you were offering him your spare blacks.
“That wont fit me” he nodded his head to the item of clothing, an unimpressed furrow in his brow.
He watched on as you frowned in return, then trailed your eyes down his chest and abdomen, no doubt sizing him up.
“We look about the same size”
Crosshair scoffed, “are you calling me skinny?”
“Are you calling me skinny?” you replied amusedly, one of your eyebrows raising in tandem with your lips.
He rolled his eyes, “whatever, hand them over”
He held out his hand, looking away from your irritatingly enraptured gaze, and you dropped the top into his hand. He threaded his arms through the top and the sleeves, going to pull it over his head until his shoulder cried out in protest, and another pained grunt escaped him. He tried again, but was met by the same results.
“Here, let me help y—”
“Don't touch me” he replied on instinct, his tone venomous in a way that made his insides coil tightly together with guilt. He could see the hurt in your eyes, a flicker of sadness that only made that nasty feeling inside of him pull taut.
Truthfully, he couldn't stand to have you touch him. If he hadn't been so woozy previously, he may have shrugged off your help with his wound as he usually did, telling you he could sort it himself. Now that he was in his right mind, there was no way he would let you anywhere near him. He didn't trust himself around you. He didn't think he could have you touch him and not do everything in his power to keep it that way.
Though, observing the hurt in your eyes, in the slight downturn of your lips, he felt he couldn't deny you anything in that moment. After a long silence, he sighed. “I'm sorry”
Without so much as a single word, your hands found the fabric of the top, and you gently pulled it over his head. Crosshair knew he didn't have to say anything, because as much as he wished you didn't, you knew him well, and could read him far more than he was comfortable with.
He kept his eyes trained on yours. So much of your emotions were given away by your eyes, and he felt that you didn't try very hard to hide them, not like he did. He admired you for that. You were so openly giving and sought connection with everyone, even him. Your eyes caught his as you pulled the top down over his chest.
A small smirk wound it's way onto your face, “don't worry, I won't tell the others you needed help dressing like a little boy”
Crosshair huffed, trying to disguise what was really a laugh as an unimpressed scoff.
“I'm going to try and contact them” you muttered, moving away from him to pull out your comm. “Hunter? Are you there?” you were met by static, nothing coming through the line.
You tried again a few more times, calling for Hunter to reply, and every time you said his name it was like a punch to the gut. The last time was so desperate, so soft and bordering on loving that Crosshair almost clamped his hands over his ears. He couldn't stand it.
He didn't want to feel resentful towards Hunter, he only had himself to blame for leaving the space for something to blossom between the two of you, and it didn't surprise him in the least. You were both generous in a similar way, looking out for others before yourself, and it made sense that you had gravitated towards each other.
He tried to push it from his mind, vaguely aware that you were sending a recorded message about what had happened. He was more focused on the intense need he had to escape this situation. He couldn't be trapped in here with you, it would be the end of him, he was sure.
You began trying to shift some rocks from the base of the mound they had fallen into, but it only caused a slide from the ones on top of it. You yelped as you sprang back, and a thin crack appeared, running along the ceiling of the cave. Crosshair just huffed and pushed himself off of the ground, going to continue on in your stead.
“I'm not sure that's—”
The same thing happened, the crack deepening and small rocks falling from the ceiling. Crosshair paid it no mind, but you insisted that he stopped, pleading with him when it only got worse, more rocks shifting unsteadily and falling down around you. Really, it was hurting him a lot, his shoulder calling out for him to stop much like you, but the prospect of being stuck in here struck him as far more painful.
You had always given back what Crosshair gave out for the most part, but with the tone of your voice, he could tell your patience was wearing thin. You were quickly losing your sense of humour, and you finally snapped.
“You know what Crosshair, I'm kriffing sick of you! If you want to go and get yourself killed, be my guest, I won't stop you”
Crosshair stopped what he was doing, turning to face you, “you don't mean that”
His tone was partly joking, partly serious, as he didn't know which end of the scale you were on at that point.
“I mean every word” you spat at him, far more angry than you'd ever been, and you grabbed the lamp, dragging it behind you as you walked away.
He watched you slide down the far wall of the cave, your arms wrapping around your knees as you brought them into your chest in a huff. For a moment Crosshair didn't know what to do, but he figured he wasn't going anywhere if you weren't onside, so he trudged over you slowly, not approaching quickly for how he didn't know what kind of reaction to expect.
“Go away” you muttered, your eyes staring ahead of you, hardened with a resolve to not engage with him.
“No” he replied petulantly.
“I'm not dealing with your shitty attitude right now” you gritted through your teeth, still not looking at him.
It seemed that his mistreatment of you had finally caught up to him, and made you snap, and Crosshair was almost scared of the uncharted territory that you were now in.
“Just get up and help me shift these rocks” he knocked his foot on yours, urging you to abide, but you didn’t move.
You were silent, and realised then that it looked as if you were shaking subtly, but it was hard to tell in the low light. He was worried about you, but he knew there wasn't anything he could say or do that would help. He crouched next to you with a small sigh.
“What's the matter with you?”
“The matter? Crosshair we're stuck in here!” you finally looked up at him, a scrunch in your nose that he couldn't help but find adorable, and he found himself wishing you would have snapped at him before.
“What? Are you scared?” he asked, his usual teasing tone making an appearance.
“Yes! I'm scared, alright?” you hissed, and he could see a flicker of fear in your stormy eyes, “I don't know why you aren't”
“I don't get scared” he replied quickly, a knee-jerk response.
You laughed humourlessly, rolling your eyes, “right, of course. I should've thought of that”
Crosshair could see he wasn't getting anywhere, so he took a seat next to you, his back to the wall, one knee bent to rest his forearm on.
“I can't believe I'm going to die trapped in here with you” you grumbled out.
A pang of hurt cut deep in Crosshair's chest, but he forced a dry chuckle past his lips, an instinctual reaction to deflect the pain. You didn't seem so amused.
“Hey” he said softly, and you turned your head to look over to him, “we're not going to die”
His voice was as soothing as he'd allow himself, and he hoped that it could bring you even a little reassurance. You seemed almost taken aback, your mouth hanging open a little as your eyebrows raised. You blinked at him, and then settled back into a frown.
“I'm not stupid Cross, there's no way to know whether we're going to get out of this or not” you spoke softly.
The nickname made his chest seize up, but he sighed, leaning his head back against the wall of the cave, “you're right”
He wasn't going to lie to you, you didn't need that, and it wouldn't fix anything about the predicament you found yourselves in.
For a little while, you sat in silence, save for a steady drip of water on the opposite side of the cave that Crosshair had failed to notice previously. Now, it was all he could focus on. It was a particularly grating noise, something irritatingly steadfast and unyielding about it, just existing in the same space as you, but doing a much better job at consistency than him. It felt like it was taunting him, mocking him, calling him a coward. Maybe he was already going crazy, but either way, he felt compelled to speak up, if only to try and drown it out.
“I'm sorry” he said quietly, almost a whisper.
You sighed deeply, deflating, “it's not your fault”
Crosshair shook his head though you didn't see it, “I mean, that you're stuck here with me. I know that you'd prefer if it was Hunter instead”
You looked over at him with a curious expression, one that he only saw for a split second before he had to turn away. He couldn't bring himself to look at you for whatever you were about to say.
“That's not exactly true” you said in a measured tone.
His gazed snapped up to you, and you were giving him one of those looks where you were trying to figure him out. He hated when you did that, you were so good at it after all. He sometimes felt that you could see right through him and into his very soul, but he sincerely hoped that wasn't the case, he couldn't think of anything more horrifying.
“I didn't mean what I said before” you murmured, turning your body towards him with a small smile, “you're a great end of the universe buddy really”
Crosshair rolled his eyes, “so you don't actually want me to die?”
“Of course I don't” your face softened with your tone, and he couldn’t believe that such a tender look could be directed at him, he could only think that he didn’t deserve it, “you just drive me up the wall sometimes”
His lips quirked into a small smirk on instinct, and then it was your turn to roll your eyes.
“No one enjoys winding me up as much as you” you muttered, drawing your knees back to your chest as a shudder wracked your body.
Crosshair cast his eyes over you at the action, realising that your medics robes were not as warm as the blacks you had packed for situations exactly like this. He thought that maybe if he was a better man he'd give the top back to you. That's what Hunter would do. Instead, he looked across the cave, to where the previous dwellers had made a makeshift fire. There wasn't much wood, but it would be better than nothing.
“You have a lighter in there?” he asked, motioning his hand towards your knapsack.
“Uh… yeah” you replied.
Crosshair pushed himself from the ground, only a small grunt leaving his lips as the bacta had already began healing his wound. He grabbed the bag and crouched down by the pile of wood, rifling through it to find the lighter which was rattling around at the bottom.
As he arranged the remaining pieces of wood into his preferred shape, you stood and walked over to retake your seat in front of the soon-to-be fire. He got it going quickly enough, lighting one of the smaller pieces and placing it into the structure he had built, but it was weak at best. It wasn't going to keep for more than a few hours with the resources available, and Crosshair was already worrying about what would happen then.
He looked over to where the opening of the cave had been. In the dim light he could see the crack that had appeared in the ceiling, and he felt his stomach twist into a tight knot upon observing how much worse it was already. He blew a long breath out, making the fire ahead of him flicker slightly more, before it settled into its previous dance. Crosshair couldn't hear the dripping anymore, not above the crackle of the fire, and it was a strange relief. Thank the maker for small mercies, he thought, inwardly scoffing at the sarcastic thought.
“Why haven't you been sleeping?”
The question caught him off guard, so buried deep in his own thoughts that he had almost jumped when you spoke up.
“I don't want to talk about it” he mumbled in reply.
You nodded, seemingly satisfied with the assertion, but he could tell something lingered in your mind at the way you watched the flames before you both.
“You've been in my dreams the past few nights” you said absentmindedly, eyes almost glazed over as you stared into the fire, little regard for how it made Crosshair’s heart skip several beats. Your eyes flicked up and met his, and he lifted an eyebrow, not sure how else to react. You chuckled slightly before you continued, “they weren't great dreams, really. Nightmares, maybe”
Crosshair could feel his insides constrict at the idea of him featuring in your nightmares, his heart beating faster as he willed himself not to react in any way.
“Go on”
He watched your throat bob as you swallowed, “well, it always starts with me being chased by a fire-breathing lizard… creature”
Crosshair couldn’t help the way the edges of his lips lifted a little, and he brought his hand up to scratch at his stubble to try and hide it.
“I can see you laughing at me” you scoffed, “it was scary at the time”
“I'm sure” Crosshair replied, still fighting a smirk.
“Whatever” you rolled your eyes, uncrossing you legs to stretch them out ahead of you so you faced the far wall of the cave.
Crosshair’s curiosity quickly got the better of him, “what was I doing there?”
You looked back over to him before turning your face back down to your feet where you gently kicked your heel into the ground, “it's… silly, really. Far fetched”
He frowned, “I'm listening”
You huffed, and he could see your cheeks darken as you deliberated over your next words, “you were protecting me. You had a durasteel sword and you were trying to slay the creature”
Crosshair’s eyebrows raised, but quickly shot back down at your earlier insinuation, “why's that so far fetched?”
You tilted your head to look at him, your own frown creasing your brow, “I don't know, it's not something you'd do in real life”
A pang of hurt sent a sharp pain through his chest. He could feel it, like a real, physical thing, a knife piercing through his heart. You truly believed that he didn't care for you in any way shape or form, and as much as he knew he had no right to feel slighted by it, it cut deep within him.
“Nice to know you think so little of me” he grumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest and tucking his chin behind them as he stared into the fire.
He could see your eyes go wide even as he refused to look at you, “I don't think little of you! I— I think you're… great, just—”
“Just what?” he snapped, eyes darting back up to yours.
“I don't know, I don't see you doing that for me”
Crosshair's frown only got deeper, and he forced himself to look away and into the fire again. All of the hurt and jealousy within him, every negative emotion he had brought upon himself by not being honest with you bubbled up to the surface, and he failed to keep it to himself.
“I feel like I've upset you” you said softly, but he just grunted in reply, “what is it?”
“You really think I wouldn't protect you?”
He knew that this was a path he didn't want to go down, one he wouldn't dare tread if both your lives didn't hang in the balance, but they did. He felt vulnerable, more vulnerable than he ever had or wanted to, and severely misjudged. Something about it made indignance rise up his throat and mingle with his words.
You paused, but spoke you mind after a moment, “not at the expense of yourself, no”
He grunted again, “well you're wrong”
“Why?”
“why?” he scoffed, shuffling his feet ucomfortably, “I'm not heartless, you know”
“I didn't say you were” you rebutted, and he finally looked up at you when you paused. You watched him carefully, “you would… put yourself in harm's way, for me?”
“Of course”
The shock was evident on your face, your mouth hanging open a little as you stared back at him, eyes wide and unblinking, and he knew instantly that he'd said too much, and that you didn't feel the same way for him. The worst part was, he understood. He knew that he'd given no reason for you to care for him in any real way past doing your duties as a medic, and any kindness you had offered him had been purely from the goodness of your heart, with no ulterior motives in consideration. All the same, it was frustrating. He was frustrated at himself.
His gaze dropped to the fire once more, and it felt as if it were stinging his eyes, but he soon realised that the sensation was actually brought forth by the tears that had collected in his waterline. He blinked them away, knowing that he couldn't, shouldn't cry, even if he had just come to the realisation that you would never see him the way he saw you, never admire him like that, never adore him like he wanted you to. It made him feel like a cadet again, surrounded by people who were supposed to be his brothers, but only feeling like something was wrong with him, that he was unwanted and unlovable for a reason that would forever elude him.
It was his fault. All his fault. He knew it, he’d always known it, and he'd have to live with it for as long as he knew you. It didn't make it any better to know it, it only made it worse. He wished he could blame it on you, make it easier for himself, displace all the blame and take this crushing weight from his shoulders, but he wouldn't wish this weight upon anyone else, much less you.
He didnt dare look up at you again, especially as you hadn't said anything. If the ground opened up and swallowed him whole in that moment he wouldn't have cared, or probably noticed.
“Do you think the others will be looking for us by now?” you asked softly after a little while.
“Doesn't matter, they won't find us” he grumbled back.
You huffed, “that's not very reassuring”
“Reassurance does nothing”
“Maybe not to you”
“No, not to me”
“Right” he could tell you had rolled your eyes, “you don't get scared, how could I forget”
“I am scared, just not for myself” He snapped, his tone sharp as he glared at you. He was feeling annoyed now, and not in the mood for joking in the slightest.
“What do you mean?”
He scoffed, his tone not matching his sentiment, “I'm scared for you. I don't want anything to happen to you”
You watched him from across the fire, tilting your head, and he had to look away.
“Why aren't you scared for yourself?” you asked.
Crosshair was reluctant to say, but you had no teasing in your tone, and admitting to the truth felt easier knowing that he might not make it out of this cave. He decided that he'd find a way to say what he wanted in as few words as possible.
“Because… if I die, I don't have to live without you”
Your eyes widened slowly, and he watched your mind work around the meaning of the words, the gears turning behind your eyes. He could feel the embarrassment clawing at his throat, begging him to stop speaking forever more. He didn't know why he would have said that, beyond it being true. You didn't need to know, it wouldn't help you, and it certainly didn't help him.
Then, you did something that he didn't expect at all. You rose from your place on the opposite side of the fire slowly, as if not to scare him, not that it worked. His eyes followed you as you made your way around, and retook your seat in the spot right next to him, so close that if he shifted his arm he’d be touching you. Then you put your head on his shoulder, looking into the fire.
“I'm scared for you too” You said quietly.
Crosshair didn’t know what was going on. His heart was beating out of his chest, only just managing to keep a hold of the rhythm of his breath as he watched you from so close. You had never been affectionate with him like this, and he was too plagued by confused thoughts spilling into his brain that he couldn’t fully enjoy it — enjoy the fact that you were in this proximity to him willingly.
“You're too careless with your life, you treat it like it doesn't matter. I don't like it” you spoke up again.
He didn’t know what to say.
“How should I treat it?” he asked quietly, his voice low.
“Like it's precious”
Crosshair took soft breath in automatically, taken aback by the simple admission, by how easily you had said it. He could only find it within himself to deflect the comment,
“It isn't precious, clones are expendable”
You raised your head from his shoulder to give him a stern look, “I know you don't believe that”
He shrugged. He could feel his cheeks scorching and he hated it more than anything. He hoped that the low light would save him from you noticing how your touch made him act. Peering into your eyes as you did to him, searching, your frown softened.
“Your life means a lot to me" you confessed in a whisper. Crosshair’s heart was trying to escape him now, and even more so when your face returned to being serious, “and I wouldn’t want you to risk it for me”
Crosshair matched your frown, drawing his brows together as the dots, the pieces of what you’d said, starting connecting.
“Do you think that's why I would protect you? Because I don't value my own life?” he asked, an irritate edge that made you draw back from him marginally.
“Yeah? I mean, why else…?”
He could have laughed, but instead he shook his head, “that’s not it”
He knew what he wanted to say really, but his mind fought to come up with something else, struggling to find the words to express every unsaid thing in a way that didn’t make him want to curl up in a ball and never speak again.
“It’s— I…” he trailed off, uncertain, “I value your life… more than anyone else’s”
Your eyes widened, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the corners of your lips lifted almost imperceptibly, “what do you mean?”
He rolled his eyes and looked away, “must I explain?”
“I'd like you to” you sounded small, and he looked back over to see that your eyes were wide, shining with hope. It filled him with such an uncommonly warm feeling that he couldn't possibly deny you an answer now.
“I…” he's flicked his eyes across your features, landing on your lips before finding your eyes again and sending you a somewhat pained look, “I can't— I don't know how to—”
You took his hand, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles and leaving goosebumps in your wake, “take your time”
Crosshair sighed, suddenly struck by how poor of an idea this was. He couldn’t help but dwell on the simple fact that you were far too good for him. He didn’t deserve someone like you, and he knew it. You were took kind, too patient, too far superior in emotional maturity and every other thing besides shooting a blaster for that matter. He didn’t believe that perfect people existed, but if there was anyone who reached the closest to those heights, it would be you.
“I… the way I treat you, it's not… right. and it's not a reflection of how I truly feel” he admitted.
You hummed, nodding as you focused your gaze on his palm, drawing shapes with your first finger, “and how do you feel?”
Crosshair was thankful that you weren’t looking at him, and knowing you, it was probably intentional. You knew what he was like, who he really was, and it was as startling as it was comforting. “I feel… a lot. You make me feel a lot”
You smiled, your thumbs tracing over his, “a lot of what?”
An exasperation began creeping on his mind. He knew you understood, you were smart, but you just wanted him to be the one to admit it. He could respect that, however hard he was finding it; you were finally not accepting his half-arsed attempt at affection.
“Happiness” he said finally, “you make me… happy”
Your eyes finally raised to his, giving him a curious look, he felt the need to continue.
“I know that I don't act like it, and I know that I certainly don't make you feel that way, and that you're interested in Hunter, so I'm under no impression that—”
“What?” your head tilted to the side, your expression portraying all of your confusion, “I'm not interested in Hunter”
“Oh” Crosshair sat completely still, just staring at you. He was sure he looked as confused as you did in that moment, but his heart still leapt in his chest all the same, “but… you were sleeping with him…?”
“He was just… I don't know” you sighed, wrapping his hand with yours, “when I had nightmares as a kid it used to help if I slept beside someone else. He noticed I wasn't sleeping well and offered some… comfort, I suppose”
Crosshair nodded, looking away and into the fire anyway, because he knew that Hunter would always be your first choice, and not him, even if it wasn’t in the way he had originally thought.
“But it didn't really help anyway” you said, “I suppose maybe I was sleeping next to the… wrong person?”
When he glanced back to you, there was something more reserved about your demeanour. You were never usually shy, sometimes quiet, but this was something that he hadn’t seen from you before.
“You're right, by the way” you noted, and he raised an eyebrow, “you haven't always made me feel very happy”
He offered a pitiful look, “I'm sorry”
“I know you are, and I don't forgive you for all of it, but I know you, and I know that you don't really mean it. And— well, the reality is…” you rambled out, finally pausing for a breath, or to muster your courage, “you also make me feel alive”
Crosshair’s brows shot up.
The entire atmosphere around the two of you changed, the air between you charged with unspoken words, energy waiting, begging to dissipate. Your free hand reached for his face, and you ran your thumb along the lines of his tattoo that followed his cheekbone. His eyes closed momentarily, a shaky breath leaving his slightly parted lips, and he gave into the moment, focusing on the feel of your fingers caressing his face.
Allowing himself to revel in your touch, appreciate it rather than trying to avoid it, he was ready to crumble into nothing. He could have, and he would have died a happy man, his last moment being in the embrace of your calming presence. Your hand found its place on his jaw, and he opened his eyes once more. He copied you, his hand reaching for your face and taking it tentatively within his grasp. Your skin was soft, ever so soft, and his thumb slid across your cheek with ease.
He felt so vulnerable in that moment, but he just didn’t care anymore. He felt safe with you, and for once he didn’t want to act like a wounded child about his feelings for you. He wanted to show you how strongly he truly felt, the beginnings of making up for the way he had treated you in the past.
Without another second to spare, he tugged on the hand that still clutched his, pulling you towards him, and his lips met yours with an ardency that surprised even him. His arms wrapped around you as he kissed you deeply, holding your body tightly to his, unwilling to let you slip away from him. He was stealing the very air from your lungs, giving you everything he had to offer, and you were taking everything in kind. You were trying your best to keep up, mostly succeeding, but eventually you had to break the kiss, almost gasping for air.
Your breath was heavy against his lips as he kept you in close proximity, and when your eyes met his, a small chuckle left you, bordering on a giggle. He pulled you flush against him, so you rested in his lap, and your face lit up even more. Crosshair felt like he was walking on air, and when you kissed him again, leaning all of your weight into it, he couldn’t help but smile against your lips. The kiss grew more heated gradually, and before he knew it, you were tugging at the blacks you had given him.
He shook his head, pulling away before you could get the wrong impression, “not here”
“Why not?” you frowned playfully, your hands slipping beneath the top and brushing against his skin.
Crosshair growled quietly as you attached your lips to his neck, making his next sentence hard to get out, “because I have more respect for you than to take you on the dirty floor of a cave”
You chuckled against his skin, pulling back to give him a genuine smile, but then it faltered, and he watched a thousand emotions flick across your face in the space of a second. He gripped you tighter, about to ask what was wrong, but you beat him to it with your answer.
“What if this is the only time we have?”
Crosshair knew you meant more than something as fleeting as a shared intimacy, and with the look on your face, he immediacy began to understand why people lied to others in the name of sparing their feelings.
He pushed his forehead into yours gently, “the others will find us”
Your lips turned down in a dubious expression, “but how are they going to get us out?”
For that, he didn’t have an answer. He brought a hand to your face, taking your jaw and hoping his actions brought some comfort, “I don’t know, but I’m not letting you die in here”
“Even you don’t have that power” you huffed.
Even you. The words hung in Crosshair’s mind, front and centre, meaning a lot more to him than you probably realised. It seemed that you were saying, even him, someone who could do almost anything, couldn’t do this. He realised then that you must think a lot more of him than he ever knew, and his heart almost seized up in his chest.
He let a small grin wind it’s way onto his face, “sure I do”
You gave him a lopsided grin, rolling your eyes as you buried your face in his neck, “yeah, yeah. Whatever you say”
As it promised to be, getting out was difficult. The others eventually came for you and Crosshair, by which point he had almost accepted that this was it, that he’d shared his final moments with you. That wasn’t enough anymore, it wasn’t a sufficient amount of time spent with you, and when he heard Hunter call for him, his need to get out was stoked. Tech had found that the rock on the other side of the cavern held a cave system, Wrecker had set a number of charges with a limited blast radius, and they pulled the two of you out from the other side.
But all of it was inconsequential, unimportant in the face of what had happened while you were still trapped. Even more so now that Crosshair held your body tightly to his, his arm wrapped around your waist as the fresh scent of your soap invaded his senses and no doubt began clinging to his bedsheets. He hadn’t let the others ask why he was suddenly being so clingy to you, but something about their smirks and knowing looks told him that he had only been fooling himself in not telling you how he felt.
You laid on his chest, careful not to rest against his wound, which you had treated properly upon returning to the ship. You had insisted it was the first thing you did, before anything else, and he wasn’t going to argue with you then, not when you frowned at him in a way that made his chest tighten. The trade off was that he got to join you in the shower afterwards. It hadn’t taken too much convincing.
Now with you in his arms, your light breath fanning his bare chest, he knew he wasn’t ever going to let you go. He’d spent too long trying to push you away, but now that he had you, you weren’t going anywhere, he’d make sure of it.
summary: Elrond finds you after the fall of Eregion. Startled by the condition he’s in, you’d do anything to bring him the relief he needs.
warnings/tags: NSFW 18+ ONLY!!! hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, idiots in love (reader is the biggest idiot, sorry), healthy dose of mutual pining, reader is an elf, some miscommunication, minor injury and blood, smut, fingering, pinv sex, reader has medieval expectations and elrond exceeds because I! say! so!
a/n: alright, first non star wars fic on tumblr, whatever whatever. it’s not gonna become a thing unless... this man has not left my mind since the end of season 2 so here, have this. I am not the most well versed in The Lore pls don’t crucify me for it. [@jetii here it is, as promised]
writing masterlist / join my taglist / read on ao3 / word count: 6k
Since the elves had been afforded sanctuary by the rings, you had been trying to busy yourself with any number of menial tasks to help ease minds, distract your own at all costs. The battle for Eregion had taken not only people’s lives, but the will of the ones who remained, and with what little of your sanity you had left you picked up where others could not face continuing.
You were inside the walls of the city when the orcs attacked, an archer on the last line of defence. The effort was futile, and it had been apparent even before the battle had begun. Watching so many of your kind fall into the clutches of death was more than you had bargained for, and something you wouldn’t soon forget. Your quiver and bow laid at your side, a piece of you unwilling to part from them still.
Now in the safety of the valley, you had set up a small tent, where people could come to have their ailments tended to with a preferred level of privacy. You were no healer, but they were few and far between in present company, so you did what you could. The curtain of night had been drawn for some time, the first time since the end of the battle, and the amount of patients had dwindled into nothing a few hours ago while the sun still clung to the horizon. You were organising what few resources you did have, crouched to view the label of each vial in the small cabinet, and you missed the light scratching of the tent canvas as it slid open.
Your name was called from behind you in a quiet voice, almost sounding like a plea. You turned, finding your beloved friend Elrond standing rigid in the doorway of the tent, his eyes dark and unmoving from yours. His name left your lips in a hoarse whisper as you took in the sight of him. His skin was marred by dirt and blood, a gash cutting him open along the cheekbone, his posture uncharacteristically slumped and hair falling loosely around his face. He still wore his armour from the battle, painted much the same as his skin.
“I did not know if you—“ he seemed to stop himself from speaking, pressing his lips together as he hung his head. His eyes slid closed, and he took a deep, steadying breath.
You raised yourself from the ground, taking a tentative step towards him, “what is it, Elrond?”
His gaze raised to you once more at the sound of your voice, and he shook his head lightly, the tiniest of tired smiles lifting his lips, “I am glad you are safe, is all”
“And you, my lord” you replied, stepping up to him properly now, and raising your hand to his chin to tip his head to the side. His hair fell across his forehead as you traced a finger along the underside of the cut, inspecting.
“Please, you know that is unnecessary” he insisted, taking another deep breath as he watched you carefully. You knew how the title irritated him so when passing your lips, the reason for its passing every time you saw him. “It does not hurt” he claimed, referring to his cut.
“I hear it’s Commander these days” you paid his comment no mind, instead taking in every small scratch that littered the surface of his skin. Your chest tightened at the sight, at the very idea of the elf before you being hurt, having death breathing down his neck. It was beyond relieving that he had made it through the battle.
Elrond’s face drew a tired expression, one of quiet exasperation at your persistence. His hand took hold of your forearm, “please, you need not fuss”
“It must be cleaned” you asserted, dropping your hands from his face and turning away.
“Melnā, I do not need—”
“Take a seat” you spoke with no room for argument, ignoring the endearment that made your heart flutter as always, “I will return in a moment”
Taking a step outside, you let yourself breathe in the night air. It really was beautiful here, the moon shining over the water and casting a cool glow along its surface, the trees gently swaying in the breeze as if cradled in its arms. You collected water from the stream just a short distance from the tent, your mind dwelling on the elf that stood just beyond its entrance.
You had known Elrond for what felt like lifetimes, and for any mortal it would have been. In all that time you had never ceased to be enamoured by him. It was quite impossible not to be. He was kind, giving without thought, an attentive healer and a good friend. Possibly that was why it was so odd that you found yourself in this position, or perhaps that was exactly why. He hadn’t come to you for healing, because that wasn’t what this was about, this was caring for him when he needed it most, whether he’d acknowledge it or not.
He’d always been affectionate with you, in a way that you could face reciprocating. It was more his words than anything, which was not surprising in the least. Though proven a cunning warrior in surviving the recent conflict, his tongue had always been far sharper than his sword. He spoke with intention only, quiet when words held no meaning, avoiding pleasantries when he could, though he always took the time to spare you words of adulation that felt unearned from such a person.
No matter his insistence in speaking it, you could not return the affectionate nickname he called you; melnā. Beloved. It was too real, striking the very deepest part of your heart, where nothing but your love for him resided, festering.
You pulled aside the canvas of the tent, venturing back inside with the pot of water at your hip. Elrond sat in the chair as you had requested, his head tilted back, eyes closed, weighted down by lack of rest. You had never seen him so defeated. His back was curled against the chair, arms hanging limp against his thighs, one leg outstretched and the other falling out to the side. It was disheartening, to say the least, that this elf you knew to be strong-willed above all else was so beaten, inside and out.
You moved silently, not wishing to disturb his moment of peace. It may be the first chance he had had since the battle, after all. You retrieved a cloth, and tentatively approached his slumped figure. It was the sound of water trickling from the cloth that drew him from his stupor. His eyes opened and found yours as you stood hunched over the pot beside him, his posture straightening, more reminiscent of his usual demeanour.
“My apologies” he murmured.
“Your apologies are unnecessary” you spoke softly, wringing out the cloth, “please, rest if that is what your body calls for”
His brows pinched a little, offering a tender look that tugged at your heart. He was so unused to having kindness offered to him, being the one that so often gave it out, that you knew the simple notion had surprised him.
He slumped against the chair once again, eyes never leaving you as you folded the cloth into a neat square; an unnecessarily proper gesture that would soon be proved pointless as the white material became riddled with dirt and blood. You stepped around the pot so you stood in front of him, and took his chin between your fingers once more, tipping his head to get a better look at the wound. As the cool cloth met the warmth of his skin, all of his breath left him in a sharp exhale.
He flinched away only marginally, evidently trying to remain still against the sting. You whispered an apology, but continued on cleaning his wound until the regular hue of his skin shone through the grime. Thankfully the cut wasn’t deep, and really he was lucky to come away from the fight so unscathed where most fell. Though it didn’t stop the way your chest tightened at the simple idea of him being hurt.
Elrond had always been collected in a particularly admirable way, but now as his frustrations could be seen peeking through the cracks of his noble exterior, you were more worried than anything. Only months ago had he been the bright-eyed elf you knew, full of a certain hopefulness that seemed unending. Now as he sat before you, his grey eyes were dimmed, as if someone had snuffed his spark, the state of Middle Earth turning them cold, clouded. Where they had been the welcome mist of an early morning, there was now a storm brewing in them.
He was much changed from who he was, and your heart broke for him.
“You are hurting” he observed in a low voice. You hadn’t known he’d been watching you so closely.
You shook your head, avoiding his gaze, “I am unharmed”
His eyebrows drew together as he turned his head, forcing you to stop your movements. “It is not your body” he claimed, taking your wrist as you tried to continue, “it is your mind”
The feel of his fingers wrapped around your skin, the unwavering scrutiny in his eyes, was dizzying. You tried to deny the way your stomach flipped, butterflies taking flight, but it was made difficult by the raising bumps along your skin, the heat that creeped up your neck.
“I did not realise you could read the thoughts of others, Elrond” you deflected, your tone light, almost jesting.
He scoffed quietly, his grip loosening on your wrist, “it was merely an informed assumption”
“Informed” you chuckled as you resumed wiping the muck from his face, stepping forward a little, “pray tell?”
“Your face betrays you” he claimed, turning his head away and spreading his knees wider for your ease.
You sighed, following the sharp line of his jaw with your eyes, clenched in pain of either flesh or mind, most likely both. You focused on cleaning the area, gently urging him to relax with smooth motions from his cheekbone down to his chin. His eyes closed with a soft breath leaving his lips, his mouth falling open.
“It troubles me to see you this way, mellon nín” you confessed quietly, “it is so unlike you”
He hummed thoughtfully, the corners of his mouth turning downwards in a deep frown, “It is just a small cut, it will be fixed in a matter of hours”
“It is not your wound that concerns me” you replied, an edge of stringency that you hadn’t intended. He looked up at you with a timidity to his gaze that was hard to ignore. His guard was up, and it was so foreign to see on his features. “May I speak plainly?”
The smallest smile reached his darkened eyes, “as if you would do anything but”
A gentle laugh escaped you, creasing your eyes with a fondness before they grew sad. You skimmed the back of your fingers over his clean cheek very lightly, and he turned to face you once more. “I am worried for you, Elrond” you whispered, “you are much changed from the elf I once knew”
He sighed desperately, hanging his head, “it is not by any great effort of my own”
“I am aware” you returned, slipping your hand under his jaw to raise his head. The shame in his eyes was hard to bear, and you stroked your thumb across his cheek in a delicate gesture. “What can be done?”
“You need not worry about me” he assured, “wrongs will be righted in time, it is the way of things.” A long breath passed your lips as you stared down at him, worry never leaving your expression. Elrond lifted a hand to you, flattening his palm against the outside of your knee and rubbing up and down in a comforting manner, “please do not fret, melnā nín“
You could feel your cheeks burn at the endearment, and busied yourself by focusing on the task at hand, threading your fingers through the hair that fell over his forehead to push it back. “You should not call me that” you muttered, dragging the cloth over his temple.
“Why?” he rebutted softly, thumb tracing over the top of your knee, “because I am ‘changed’?”
You frowned at him, not understanding the question, “because you do not use it for its intended meaning”
The statement made him sit up immediately, his back straightening so he drew closer in proximity, his chest almost flush against you, “why do you assume so?”
His sudden closeness was as startling as his words, and you were left with your hands in the air, unsure what to do with them, your mouth hanging open and trying to find the right words. “I— I do not take your meaning”
”You believe that I do not mean the words I speak, why is this?” He asked lowly, skimming his hands up the outside of your thighs, resting them at your waist.
To say that you felt flustered would be an understatement. Elrond stared up at you with determined curiosity, a soft seriousness that would make anyone feel cared for, that their words mattered more than life itself. The weight of his hands on your hips was unfamiliar, yet so comfortable, though that was not surprising. This was Elrond, after all. He was impossibly kind and purposeful at the worst of times, a dependable elf beyond measure and in all your years of friendship he had not once seen fit to slight you in any way.
Yes, friendship, because the question of more had always seemed impossible to ask, and thus been unanswered.
“We are friends, Elrond, I—”
“You are right” he interrupted, removing his hands from your body and sitting back against the chair, “Forgive me”
He rubbed a hand over his eyes as his head dropped back, sighing deeply. You didn’t know what the appropriate thing to do was in this specific scenario, but the dirt that he had smeared over his cleared skin was demanding your attention.
“Do not do that” you instructed quietly, taking the dirty hand from his face and sighing deeply as you looked upon it.
You wrung out the cloth into another basin and returned it to the fresh water, then brought it to his hand, kneeling by his side. You felt the weight of his gaze on you as you wiped the dirt from his skin, but refused to indulge in it. It was selfish to seek anything from him in this moment, when he was so broken, in need of someone to care for him.
“You are tired” he observed correctly again. He had always been able to read you far more easily than you were comfortable with.
“Everyone in this valley is tired” you deflected.
“I am not concerned with them at the moment” he spoke resolutely. You finally met his eyes, and the way they shone with intent set your stomach alive, “this is unnecessary. You require rest”
“Please” you pleaded quietly, “just— let me do this for you, just for this one time”
He exhaled softly, looking upon you with a pitiful expression as he raised his clean palm to your jaw. His thumb swiped across your cheek, but he pulled away almost right away. “I will…” he trailed off, taking hold of your forearm, “but I won’t have you stationed at my feet like this”
He pulled you up, and then directed you to sit on the arm of the chair, laying your legs across his lap. You obliged, your voice stuck in your throat, and his arm wound around your waist, splaying his palm against your lower back to steady you.
He gave you a gentle smile, “you may continue, if you wish”
You nodded, and took his other hand, quickly wiping away every inch of dirt that covered it until you reached the edge of his armour, where the skin was untouched by grime. You then raised the cloth to his neck, and much to your surprise, Elrond dropped his head back with a pensive sigh as his eyes slid closed. Watching every movement he made as you cleaned him, you became more and more entranced. His hand slid to your hip as you ran the cloth under his ear, earning another uneasy exhale, and when you reached the lip of his armour, dragging the white material just below the surface of his tunic, a small shudder wracked his body.
You had finished your work now, the visage that was once covered by dirt was clean, shining brilliantly in the low candlelight of the tent. Elrond still laid with his head back, and the exposed skin of his neck was all too tempting, beckoning you. You ran your fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face and drawing another shaky breath from him. With the confidence that your touch was affecting him in the way you had thought, you took a leap of faith.
His skin was soft under your lips as you pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, and Elrond’s grip on your hip tightened, his breath stuttering. You placed another gentle kiss against him, this time to the column of his throat, and you watched as it bobbed in reply. Elrond’s other hand now securely held your thigh, tracing circles into fabric of your tunic, and you continued to gently press your lips to his neck, slowly exploring the skin that was now exposed to you.
“Melnā” he whispered in a soft exhale, and you felt your blood running hot.
“What is it, meleth nín?” you murmured against him, continuing to litter his skin with affection.
Elrond’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment he was silent, his breath coming out in shallow pants, as if trying not to be heard. You paused your movements, and awaited his answer.
“I am not sure you understand what you are doing to me”
You raised your head at his assertion, meeting his dark gaze head on and trying to contain the embarrassment you felt, “I shall stop, we never need mention this again”
Elrond shook his head. “You misunderstand me” he said, sitting up so his forehead met yours, “I would not want you to do this simply because you felt I needed it”
You frowned, moving your gaze between his eyes and searching for something you weren’t entirely sure of. “I would not deny that” you spoke quietly, and watched as a flicker of uncertainty crossed his features, “but selfishly, it would not be the sole reason”
His eyebrows raised ever so slightly, and for a moment he just stared at you, as if to figure out whether or not the words had really slipped from your lips. His hand left your thigh to hold your jaw, closing his eyes as he leant into you, “it does not bother you?”
“What doesn’t?”
“That I am… different, as you say?” He murmured in reply, lifting his head so his nose gently rubbed against yours.
“Elrond…” you sighed as you took his face in both hands, and his eyes fluttered open to meet your gaze, “you are not capable of the kind of change that would squander my high regards for you, nor quell my affections”
He exhaled, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your lips, “what would you allow me?”
“Anything” you replied in a whisper, “everything”
Elrond’s arm tightened around you, and his other hooked under your knees as he slowly stood from his seat, taking you with him. He kept his eyes on yours as he made his way over to the bed you had set up, and finally you could see some of the darkness receding from them. If you were to serve as a distraction for him, with nothing given in return, then you would do it gladly, no matter the pain in your heart. You knew it was foolish, to allow yourself to be burned at his stake, but when he treated you so gently, as if you were precious, as if you’d break if he released you, you didn’t seem to care.
He placed you down on the thin mattress, moving to remove his armour before you protested. “Allow me” you directed him to sit down instead, and knelt in front of him to slip off the pieces of his armour without another word. The process felt almost religious, a ritual of sorts, each piece falling away to reveal his slender form. You stacked the pieces neatly to your side, taking care not to damage the fine craftsmanship, despite it being designed for that express purpose.
When the last piece was placed down, you finally lifted your eyes back to him. Your insides buzzed with nervous energy, but you couldn’t lose your confidence now, and so you placed your hands on his thighs, sliding them upwards as you raised to your knees. For a moment you just took him in, his weary smile, the tiredness in his eyes, slack jaw. He was so fatigued, and to offer him some semblance of tenderness in this state felt like a monumental privilege. His hands found your body, sitting comfortably at your waist, and you were snapped back into the moment.
“You do not need to do this” he reminded, gently kneading your skin to bring you closer.
You shook your head, “I want to, if you’ll allow me”
His expression softened further, “you need not ask, my love”
You nudged his jaw upwards with your nose, planting a kiss just beneath and making his body deflate in relief. You drew a slow path towards his ear as your hands slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin against your palms. Every movement you made was calculated, a precise act, aimed to release any lingering tension that he held within his body. You tried hard not to lose yourself in his presence, in the natural scent of his skin, in the feel of his breath against your own neck, and succeeded by focusing on every sensation as it arose, keeping yourself present.
You slowly peeled back his shirt, allowing you access to the skin below, but before you could explore any further, Elrond’s voice cut through the silence.
“Stand for me” he said lowly, his lips almost brushing your ear as he spoke and causing a shiver to run down your back, desire pooling low in your stomach.
You obliged right away, pushing off of the floor to stand before him. First, he took you calf and slid one shoe from you, and then repeated the action for the other foot. He took hold of the ties that were holding your tunic up and slowly untied you from the material. The fabric slid from your shoulders with ease, pooling around your ankles on the floor. The chill of night, barely concealed by the tent, blew against your bare skin, nipping at you as the edge of self-consciousness did in the same moment. You were bare to Elrond now, and his hands traced down your sides as he took in the sight, a certain reverence to his gaze that sent your mind towards puzzlement.
As his hands reached your thighs, he pulled you slowly towards him, positioning you over him so you straddled his lap. Before you could continue the exploration of his skin, his own lips made contact with your shoulder, and he littered kisses downwards along your collarbone, languid motions that made your head spin. You breath caught in your throat as his hand skimmed up the inside of your thigh, and you let out a choked exhale when you felt his fingers dip between your folds. Your head fell forwards, resting your forehead against his shoulder as he continued his efforts, tracing circles around your sensitive bud, which only made your breath heavier and heavier.
You panted his name, disbelief colouring your tone, not expecting him to pay any attention to your needs. It would have been ample to care for him, but receiving it back, you realised just how much you needed it. The battle had been tough on you as well, and the way that your body relaxed under his touch reminded you of that fact.
A small chuckle left his lips at your incredulity. “You did not expect this?” He deduced correctly once again. You couldn’t answer, for the way his fingers expertly played against you was rendering you unable to speak. “You thought I would neglect you in this way?”
“I… n— yes?” you stuttered out unsurely, silenced by your own moan at Elrond doubling his efforts.
“Mm, as I thought” he teased lightly, his voice low as his lips drew near to your ear. You breathed heavily, trying to collect your thoughts, trying to keep your lips sealed for the fear of what sounds might erupt if given the chance. Not trusting yourself to stay quiet, you buried your face in his neck. Elrond hummed disapprovingly, “I want to hear you, pretty one”
Urging you on in his request, Elrond slowly slipped his fingers past your entrance, taking his time to coax every possible ounce of pleasure from you, and earning a shaky moan against his neck.
“That’s it” he cooed, his other hand kneading the skin of your waist in time with the fingers that worked inside of you, “I have you”
His words reminded you I’m an instant that this was not to be the purpose of this endeavour, and your hand flew to his wrist, pausing his movements. “Elrond, this was supposed to be for your benefit”
Elrond shook his head. “That may have been your intention” he withdrew his fingers a little before sinking them back inside, “but I can see that you are just as weary as I”
“No, I—” your hips twitched forwards instinctively as he picked up his pace, “I insist”
”Do you?” He said in an amused rumble.
You tried to regain authority over your ragged breath, some semblance of control over your body, but Elrond was playing you like a harp. He strummed the strings of your pleasure like he knew the tune by heart, every movement instinctive and adept, swells in dynamic that built up towards a climax. You were getting there quickly far quicker than anticipated. The pads of his fingers pressed against your walls, the base of his palm working your clit, and you could feel everything within you pulling taut.
“Elrond—” his name fell from your lips in a needy whisper.
“What do you need?” He replied quietly, never faltering in his pace.
“I—”
The question confounded you. Never before had you been asked such a thing, not in the height of pleasure at least. Your mind couldn’t wander far given the situation, but for a moment you tried to produce an answer for him.
“Tell me” he urged again, more insistent now, “what do you want?”
“I want—” the minor difference in wording, with the added knowledge of Elrond’s cock straining against his trousers and pressing against your leg, brought the answer to you more readily. “I want… you, Elrond” you breathed out, hips buckling against him to punctuate your point.
An uneasy groan sounded in his throat, reverberating against your cheek as you remained pressed against him. He pulled his fingers from you quickly, and within the next second he had flipped you over so you were beneath him. You reached for the tie of his trousers as he did, eager to remove the final piece of clothing that restricted him from you.
Elrond slotted himself between your legs to the tune of your small whimper, but he paused. His face hovered above you, his eyes flicking between yours, searching. It was as if he was waiting for something, but you couldn’t decipher what.
“You have not kissed me” he muttered, his eyes briefly flicking to your lips before his steadfast gaze returned to yours.
Your eyes widened a little at the observation, unsure of the waters you were about to dip your toe into, “you would let me?”
The expression on Elrond's face as he pulled back was purely scandalised, his brows settled in a deep frown, “whatever do you mean?”
“I—” you tried to find the words to express what you had previously thought, but now it all sounded ridiculous.
“You believe I do not—” words failed him in a moment of disbelief, and then his expression softened once more, his palm resting against your cheek, “meleth nín, forgive me for such unkind words, but… you are a fool”
Your brows drew together a little. He had never called you anything of the sort, but knowing him, ever intentional with his words, you didn’t doubt that he was right.
“To doubt my deep affections for you is to deny the very rising and setting of the sun. Do you truly think so lowly of me that I would allow you this without returning your desire in equal measure?”
You could only blink up at him after such a confession, but once his words began to sink in, you realised the depth of your folly. Of course the reverence in his gaze, the tenderness of his touch, was not because anyone was giving him this kind of affection, but because it was you. The thought struck you so suddenly that you became breathless, your cheeks heating. To engage in this act, usually reserved for marriage, he must have more admiration for you than you gave him credit for. Elrond was right, you were a fool.
“I do not” you spoke resolutely, “I have only the highest of regards for you”
“Then hear me now” he pressed a kiss to your forehead before continuing, “I have waited centuries to embrace you in this way. Every moment in your presence has been excruciating, longing for more than what I thought possible, waiting for the day that you changed your mind about me. Now that the day has finally arrived, I do not intend to spare you such an intimacy without knowing the taste of your lips”
“Elrond…” you whispered, reaching up to mirror his palm against your cheek, “my mind remains unchanged. This is the way I have always felt”
His eyes widened, a light scoff escaping him in complete surprise, “then we are both fools”
“I believe you may be right” you chuckled at his reaction, you hand tangling in his curls with the reward of a delighted sigh. The look of contentment on his face was enough to melt you into the fabric of the sheet you laid upon. “You are so beautiful, melnā”
Elrond rested his forehead against yours, “what ever beauty I possess pales in comparison to the fortune of looking upon such fair features as yours”
“Such flowery words” you lips quirked, teasing his lyrical ways.
Elrond chuckled, skimming the pad of his thumb across the skin beneath your eye, “you are worth the time it takes to speak them, my love”
At long last, Elrond brought his lips to yours. He kissed you firmly, deeply, every bit of his usual sincerity woven into the action, and you quickly lost yourself in him as you had aimed to prevent before. His hands roved your body in featherlight touches, mapping the shape of you as his kisses grew more insistent.
Soon he began to explore past the bounds of your lips, traveling along your jaw. His breath ghosted over your ear, pausing for only a second, before he gently brushed his lips against it. Your breath caught in your throat, almost choking by the uneasy rhythm of it as he grazed his teeth against your earlobe. It was the first time anyone had ever touched your ears, and the gesture was so uniquely intimate, so undeniably pleasurable, that you couldn’t help the way your finger’s tightened in Elrond’s curls.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing his body closer. The both of you moaned in tandem as his hardened length came into contact with your core, Elrond whispering a curse as he buried his face in your neck. He repeated the action with more intention, taking hold of his cock to run it through your folds, slick with arousal. Your breath shortened as he circled your clit with the tip, your mind becoming hazier. Elrond lifted his head and pressed his forehead to yours, and you felt his shaky breath against your lips. The question was clear in his eyes, asking for your permission, and you tightened your legs around him to reply.
His tip passed your entrance, stretching you open in the most pleasant way. The melody of your moans only intensified as he slowly sank into you, his hand gripping your hip tightly. His eyes were screwed shut, and he swore under his breath again, his lips brushing yours in the process. He released his hand from your hip, smoothing over the skin that he had held so tightly, as if to soothe any hurt he had caused. If he had, you hadn’t noticed.
Elrond pulled out almost completely, before he sank back in with a slow roll of his hips. He set a steady pace at first, both of you just revelling in the feel of being so connected, so close. He brought his lips to yours once more, taking his time to really taste you, to feel every movement so deeply.
His hands smoothed down your sides as he pulled away slightly to gaze down at you, goosebumps raising under his touch. “You are so perfect” he spoke reverently, his tone nothing short of worshipping, and you could feel your cheeks flush, even now. The change in angle had your back arching, and as a heavy moan left your lips, Elrond gripped your hips tightly again. It seemed that something in him snapped after that, any restraint that he had demonstrated melted away, and letting what desire coursed through his veins take ahold of him.
His pace was fracturing then, his breath heavy against your skin as he leaned over to paint affection across your collarbone and chest. His fingers danced along the skin of your abdomen, taking a path downwards that had you already writhing at the anticipation. He drew tight circles around your clit, and combined with the feel of his cock dragging against your walls, hitting the deepest parts of you, you were ready to come undone in a matter of seconds.
“That’s it, meleth nín. Let go for me” he whispered against your ear, the added sensation of his lips against the sensitive area making your orgasm rip through you almost immediately.
Your vision blurred, white hot bliss searing through your veins as you were pushed over the edge, and Elrond followed you over, letting out a low grunt as he spilled all of himself inside of you. He held himself over you as he regained his breath, meeting your eyes again and letting a fatigued grin lift his lips, his eyelids heavy.
You pulled him down and into a slow kiss, your hands on the back of his neck, gently tugging at the curls at the base of his head. He brought his forehead to yours as you broke the kiss, and wound an arm around your waist to hold you tightly to him.
“You know…” he began, something playful in his eyes, mouth twitching with a smirk, “in the eyes of some, this would make us husband and wife”
You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I think I could live with people believing that”
Elrond hummed amusedly, gently tracing his nose along yours in a tender gesture. “Do not think of this as my proposal” he murmured, “one day, I shall ask you properly”
hey!! loved reading your fives and rex fics!! could i possibly maybe request a captain rex x reader where the reader is a jedi and she's ina. similar situation to the one ahsoka was in during the final season (order 66 scene)? eek ilysm
where trust falls apart
Rex x F!Reader / Jedi!Reader
word count: 4.6k
description: the end of the war is near, but when the clones turn on you, you come to understand that your hardship has only just begun
warnings/tags: angst! hurt/comfort, order 66, rex under the influence of the inhibitor chip, canon-typical violence, mention of the conspiracy arc, friends to lovers fluff at the end :)
a/n: hi anon ! thank you so much <3 I haven't written anything about order 66 yet so thanks for requesting, I hope this is the kind of thing you were looking for !
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Looking out on the stars, you couldn’t help but muse on how the past few years, the years of your life that you had given to the war, were coming to a close.
There was something in the air, a feeling of calm, stillness, that felt oddly like being lulled into a false sense of security. The end of the war was nearing, everyone could feel it. Count Dooku had been defeated, General Kenobi had engaged General Grievous on Utapau, and you yourself had just come from Mandalore, having assisted in the capture of Darth Maul. There was a finality about the jump to hyperspace, as if leaving all grievances in the past, finally having prevailed against any and all adversaries.
Despite the relief you thought you might feel, there was something uncomfortable nagging at you from the back of your mind. You had thanked the clones alongside you for their part in the war, and then had retreated to a small room towards the back of the ship, with a window to the galaxy where you could just be alone with the stars.
It was emptiness that you felt, and you couldn’t figure out why. You should be happy, with the war ending, and hopefully being able to step down from your role as a General and become a keeper of the peace once again. However, the loneliness nagged at you nonetheless.
There was a knock at the door, and you pulled your eyes from the swirling blues of hyperspace to call for the person to enter. When the door zipped open, you were pleased to be met by the figure of the Captain of the 501st.
“General” he addressed you with a respectful nod of his head, though his expression betrayed something hesitant.
“Captain” you replied, “is everything alright?”
“Fine, sir” he confirmed, though didn’t elaborate as he stood in the doorway, gripping his helmet at his side.
”Did you need me for anything?” you asked, a little confused by his demeanour.
“No General, I just came to—” he paused, looking to the floor before he found your eyes again, “may I come in?”
You smiled, your questioning gaze softening at the timidity of the otherwise brave soldier, “of course”
Rex was a complication that you never saw coming.
With you not having your own battalion, you were placed wherever most support was needed, and in many of those instances, you had been deployed alongside the 501st. When you first met Rex, you had been struck by how easily confident he was, how collected he seemed in the face of a war that promised no end, and a General that sought to break his composure with every crazy new tactic he could think of.
As time passed, and you got to know Rex better, you became so effortlessly enamoured by him. He was charming and easy to get along with, if a little awkward at times, but that only endeared you to him more. You had spent many a campaign fighting at his side, and the feeling was always exhilarating. Your movements were harmonious with his in a especially instinctual way, working together as one unit without the need to tell him what to do. You understood each other, in a certain way.
Before you could think to pull yourself back, you realised your feelings towards him had reached the depths that no jedi should be indulging in. You tried to act as if it didn’t affect you, as if he didn’t affect you, but with every lingering look, every benevolent smile and awkward wave, you were failing miserably.
It was somewhat clear to you that Rex might feel the same way. He was always given away by the blush that spread across his cheeks whenever you thanked him or complimented his tactical skills, and as much as you felt you shouldn’t, sometimes you did so just to get that adorable reaction.
Rex was a restrained man. You knew that he’d never compromise your position as a jedi and as a General, and part of you was thankful for that, but there was also a part of you that wished upon every star that he would one day lose his composure and take what he so clearly wanted from you.
Now, as he closed the door behind him without taking his eyes from you, you took a moment to make another of those wishes.
“Are you okay General?” he asked, his voice cautious, as if he didn’t want to overstep.
“Yeah” you smiled softly, “just needed to get away for a moment”
Rex hesitated before he replied, “would you like me to leave?”
You chuckled slightly, “no, I’m glad you’re here”
The familiar blush spread across his cheeks as he shifted on his feet, forcing his gaze down to look at the floor.
“What did you come for?” you asked.
“Oh” the word fell from his lips as if he’d been caught, “I was just coming to check on you”
You couldn’t stop the way your heart fluttered, “why?”
Rex faltered, his eyes glued to his boots as he spoke quietly, “you know I care about you General, I—” he gulped, “I could tell that you weren’t feeling great after getting back to the ship, and I don’t want to impose but I couldn’t—”
“Rex” you placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping his rambling and making his head snap up to look at you with wide eyes, “thank you”
Rex didn’t speak, but the way his breath hitched, cheeks darkening further as his eyes dragged across your features, told you it had more of an effect on him than he’d let on. You shouldn’t test his patience, really, but watching him squirm like this was something that you relished in. You took your hand away from him, and he exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath.
“I’ve just been thinking a lot, about the war coming to an end” you confessed, turning back around the look out of the window.
Rex came to stand beside you, “what about it?”
You sighed, an action that gave away your fatigue, “I’m just not sure what comes next, it’s… troubling”
Rex nodded, “I understand”
His voice was quiet, and you turned to look at him. His amber eyes bore into you with an intensity that made your insides constrict. You’d seen the look before, but never in such close quarters, and the earnestness of it was startling.
“I’ll miss working with you, General” he said quietly, and the way his eyebrows pinched slightly as he spoke told you that his words meant more than he was saying.
You turned your body, resting the side of your head against the glass as you looked up at him, “so will I”
For a moment, neither one of you moved, too wrapped up in each other’s gazes to find a reason to look away. It was thrilling, holding his attention in this way, and before you could restrain yourself, you were speaking again.
“I’ll miss you a lot, Rex”
Rex sighed slightly, his shoulders sagging as he shifted closer to you. His gaze turned sorrowful, and his nervousness was obvious in the way his fingers fidgeted with the edge of his helmet.
“General, I need to tell you something” he whispered, and your heart lurched.
You took a step towards him so that your boots nearly touched his, and for once he didn’t look like he was going to move away. You pried his helmet from his twitching fingers and placed it on the windowsill, and his hands fell to his sides.
“What is it, Captain?” you asked in reply.
He looked nervous to speak, his mouth opening and then promptly closing when he couldn’t form the words. You hoped that the way you were looking up at him would give him the confidence to say what was on his mind, but you were pleasantly surprised when instead, he opted to lift a hand and sweep some of your hair behind your ear, then rest his palm against your cheek. His touch was painfully gentle, as if he was still trying to keep you at arm’s length, but it made your breath catch in your throat nonetheless.
”General, I—”
His gentle tone was interrupted by the shrill beeping of a comm device, and for a moment, he let it ring out, swiping his thumb across your cheek.
“Just give me a moment to see what this is about” he murmured, and then moved away to the other side of the room to receive the comm call.
Your blood felt hot, Rex’s touch still searing into your skin and sending tingles all throughout your body. You couldn’t believe that he’d actually crossed the line, and the anticipatory thrill that ran through you made you breathless.
You turned to admire him for a moment, and saw him clip the comm back onto his belt, and then slowly take a blaster from its holster. A cold feeling gripped you, a sharp pain piercing your mind and making your head ache. Rex wasn’t turning around, and you saw the way his hand trembled as he held his blaster tightly.
“Rex? What is it?” you asked worriedly, taking a few steps towards him.
“Get…” his voice was low, dangerous, and you froze, “get out”
You took another step but his voice was insistent.
”Run”
“Rex, what—?” you reached out to him, gently touching his arm, but you realised the error of your ways immediately.
He grabbed your wrist before you had barely touched him, and twisted your arm behind you at a painful angle, drawing a yelp from your throat. Your hand flung to your belt on instinct, calling your lightsaber to you, but Rex got his hand to your other wrist before you could get your fingers around it. The sound of the metal weapon clattering to the floor rang out in the quiet of the small room, and Rex pushed you into the wall, your cheek taking the full force of his strength. You groaned, feeling your face throbbing with pain as you heard Rex kick away your lightsaber.
You had barely had time to process what was happening, and it seemed so preposterous that you weren’t fully convinced that it was. Perhaps this was some sick daydream that you were having. That thought was knocked from you at the feeling of Rex pressing you into the wall, his palm against the back of your head.
“Stay put and be quiet” he spoke, and his voice was cold and harsh, two things you had never associated with him.
“Rex—”
“I said quiet” he growled in your ear, his breath tickling your neck and making you shudder.
You’d never been afraid of Rex, there was no reason to be after all. Though with the feeling of something shifting the tide against you, and knowing exactly the kind of things that Rex was capable of, a visceral fear gripped you body. You couldn't move, and luckily that's all he was asking for right now.
You felt the barrel of a blaster dig into the back of your head, earning another pained noise. You quickly felt hot tears springing from your eyes, threatening to fall down your cheeks.
“Rex what's going on? Why are you doing this?” you voice betrayed every inch of fear that held you captive. You sounded small, a quivering mess that tripped over words.
Before Rex could reply, if he even would have, a voice crackled through his comm, “Captain, sir, we can't find the target, have you got eyes on her?”
It was Jesse’s voice, and an unbidden whimper escaped your lips, earning a knee to the back and another grunt of pain from you. You couldn't understand why your men would turn on you in this way, and especially Rex.
The sensation that invaded your mind in the next moments was the most horrifying feeling that had ever seized you. You heard the cries through the force, their agony creating a wave of pain, a fever that wracked your body, making everything ache. You were brought to your knees by it, your chest constricting and feeling like you couldn't get enough air into your lungs.
“I'm dealing with it” Rex said simply, and pushed his blaster into your head once more, bringing you back to the present moment.
You could feel the way his hand shook, and you couldn't help but think that he should have shot you by now. You tilted your head back slowly, looking up at him as he towered above you with a steely expression that didn't suit him one bit.
“Rex, please” you whispered the desperate plea, and you could see the way his eyes shone, a watery layer of tears covering their surface despite the otherwise fierce look.
Without making any sudden movements, you gradually turned around and stood up. His blaster was now pressing into your forehead, but upon closer inspection you realised that he didn't even have his finger on the trigger. You slowly lifted your hands up, placing them over his, and trying to inject some calm into him, a soothing gesture through the force. All you could feel bouncing back at you was something cold and unfeeling, something bleak that didn't feel anything like he usually did.
Beneath it all there was a small flicker of light, which felt like it was trying to escape with every last bit of energy it had. It felt like Rex was being held captive in his own body, and the notion shook you to your core.
“Rex, it's okay” you tried to soothe, but he just pressed you back more, your head hitting into the wall and bringing a new discomfort.
He was close, watching tears slip out of your eyes from mere inches away, but the only thing he did was finally put his finger to the trigger. You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing what you had to do to get out of this situation.
“I'm so sorry Rex” you whispered, before mustering all the strength within you to push him back and send him careening into the wall opposite.
His head hit the durasteel with a sickening thud, carving a dent where it found its mark, and you cringed, hoping it hadn't done any serious damage to him. He was still conscious, barely, groaning at the injury and holding the back of his head in his hand. You took your chance and summoned your lightsaber, scurrying from the room and heading straight to the hangar with haste.
It had been months, or you thought so at least. You stopped counting the days when you realised that it didn't really matter. It was in the past, that was all that was important.
You were a different person now, at least in the mind of those around you. You went by a different name, and it seemed fitting for how you felt like a shell of the person you used to be. You'd found work on some outer rim planet that you'd never knew existed until you almost crashed into its surface. It was far enough away from the core worlds that it was doubtful that anyone would recognise you, but you still tried not to make a show of yourself. It was easy work, fixing up speeders and other hunks of junk that people brought in. It was pretty mindless work, but you had always been good with your hands, and the pay wasn't awful.
Unfortunately, the mindlessness of it gave you plenty of time to think. It had been months, but you were still confused.
Rex was probably your closest friend, someone you had trusted with your life, but that trust had been proven futile the moment he put a blaster to your head. You knew that something had to have been seriously wrong to do such a thing. Even if he suddenly decided your friendship was worthless, he was a good man. He couldn't do such a thing in his right mind. The cold sensation that gripped you when you touched his hand still haunted your dreams, but you were not closer to figuring it out.
It was late, rain was pouring down outside the garage and providing a calming backdrop to your tinkering, and you were slid underneath a speeder, humming something to keep your mind focused with your hands buried in tangled wires. You felt someone approaching before their footsteps reached your ears, and an irritated sigh left your lips. You remembered turning the sign on the door to show you were finished for the day. Apparently this person had taken it upon themself to investigate anyway.
“We’re closed” you said in a flat voice, not enough energy to inject any warmth into your voice.
The person didn't reply, and you could feel them standing there still, unmoving. With another ennervated noise leaving your lips, you slid out from underneath the speeder to give them a piece of your mind, but your words died on your lips when you saw the person looking down at you.
You instantly pulled the blaster from the holster at your hip, and his hands shot up in surrender.
“Please don't shoot, I'm not going to hurt you”
You didn't know what to, or say. You had imagined what you might say if you came upon Rex again, you couldn't help it, but all of your previous thoughts were spilling from your head at the sight of him actually standing there. You stood up, keeping your blaster pointed at him, ready to run if need be. Of course you'd never shoot him, and he probably knew that, but it was still a protective measure you weren't going to neglect.
“How did you find me?” you asked, trying to keep your voice strong.
“Please put the blaster d—” Rex's please was cut off by you doubling down, stepping forwards with your finger on the trigger.
“I asked you a question” you remarked.
“I— Senator Organa told me where I could find you” he said carefully.
Your frown was deep and betrayed your mistrust before you spoke, “you're lying”
“I'm no—”
“Why would he tell you?” you pushed your blaster into his forehead, trying your best to be intimidating, but he just looked calm, his eyes piercing you as they had before he turned on you, a reverence in his gaze that gave you pause.
It made your heart stutter, but you couldn't give in so easily. He didn't pull away, he didn't do anything but watch you for a moment, and you could feel yourself giving in.
“Because I asked” he replied softly, bringing his hands up and placing them over yours.
You only realised then that you were shaking, with the steadiness and warmth of Rex engulfing your hands. You could feel none of the cold and harsh feeling that reached for your mind the last time you had touched him, only the warmth of his usual presence through the force. Strong and glowing, unyieldingly positive and steadfast, just comforting.
You felt Rex take the blaster from you and throw it away, holding your trembling hands in his and enrapturing you with his steady gaze.
“You don't need to be afraid of me” his voice was soothing and gentle.
“I don't understand” you whispered, your voice trembling, though no longer in fear.
Rex tentatively pulled you forward and wrapped his arms around you, and you took the bait instantly. You buried your face in his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, enveloping yourself in his warmth, his comfort.
“I'm so sorry General” he said softly, sounding utterly apologetic, “you're safe, I can explain everything”
It did feel safe, being in his arms, but you still couldn't so easily shake what had happened the last time you saw him.
“Why did you—” it was hard to say, hard to admit, “you were going to kill me”
His arms tightened around you, “I couldn't control it General, I—” he sighed and rested his chin on the top of your head, “I have a lot of explaining to do”
A small laugh escaped you even though you knew it wasn't a joke. Perhaps it was just that the situation seemed so ridiculous.
“You think?” you pulled back to look up at him, a small smile pulling at your lips.
Rex's hand found its place on your cheek as he smiled back, and you leaned into it, about to close your eyes until you noticed a thin scar on the side of his head.
“What's this?” you reached up and traced your finger along it.
Rex huffed a little, “the explanation”
You frowned up at him, not taking his meaning at all.
“I— it’s a lot, it's hard to—”
You stepped out of his embrace to gesture behind you, “why don't you come and sit down in my room”
Rex looked to the door you were pointing to across the room, hesitant for a moment before he met your gaze again with a small smile, “yeah, that sounds good”
After showing him into the small room, Rex took a seat on the old sofa that clung to the wall, while you went about making a batch of caf. You were suddenly struck by how different things were. You weren't entirely sure what was going on in the larger galaxy, having run away from it all, but what you knew was that whoever Rex was to you now, was something completely different. He was no longer a soldier under your command, you no longer his General. Something about it sent a thrill through you, but you tried to supress thinking about that until he'd explained himself.
You offered him the cup of caf, and grabbed your own, taking a seat beside him and bringing your knees to your chest. Rex looked despondently down onto his cup, swirling it gently before taking a sip. You saw his shoulders relax as he breathed out, his eyelids fluttering closed for a moment. You realised then just how tired and run down he looked, and you became more nervous for him to disclose what had happened to him.
He began by telling you about what happened to Fives, what he uncovered and what went down in the warehouse where he died. He told you how he held him in his arms when he took his last breath, how nobody believed him and he had to go on knowing about the chip in his head without the knowledge of what it really meant.
You remembered seeing Rex soon after it had all gone down, and thinking that he seemed changed, as if he was trying to hold it together for the sake of his men. You knew it had affected him more than he was letting on, you just hadn't known why.
He told you that after you'd run away from him when his chip activated, he'd gone looking for you and instead ran into Ahsoka, and how she had helped him remove it before their hard-won escape.
“I'm so sorry General” He looked over to you for the first time since he began speaking, and you could see the tears in the corners of his eyes, “I tried to control it, but…”
He stopped speaking, his face contorting in a frown as he tried to quell his emotions.
“I would never have— you know that I'd never—”
“Rex” you stopped him with hand over his when you could see his emotions getting the better of him, “I know. I knew something was wrong, that it wasn't you. I could feel it”
His brows pinched slightly as he let out a deep breath, relief flooding his expression. He sat back, slumping against the back of the sofa and resting his head on the wall as he closed his eyes. He looked so tired and overwhelmed, and your heart ached for him.
“So… all of the jedi, they're—” you stopped short of the painful word, but Rex understood.
He opened his eyes and nodded, “aside from Ahsoka... yes. as far as I know”
You tightened your arms around your shins and let out a long breath, resting your head on your knees and looking down. You had expected as much. The loss you felt though the force was crippling, there could be no other explanation for such an agonizing feeling.
“I'm so sorry” Rex said quietly and your eyes flicked back to him. He looked so remorseful, as if he was carrying to whole weight of the galaxy on his shoulders.
“It's not your fault, Rex” you shook your head, “you're a victim of this as much as I am”
“I know, but—” his eyes softened, “I know how much being a jedi meant to you, I'm just sorry that things turned out this way”
You nodded, a sad smile lifting your lips, “me too”
A silence stretched out between you, neither one of you deigning to speak again for a moment as the gravity of the situation overtook you. Though, there was something still playing on your mind, something you needed to know.
“Rex… when you—” you chewed on the inside of your cheek for a moment, wondering if you should bring it up, “before everything happened, you said you had something to tell me”
“Oh” his eyes widened for a moment, and you could see a blush grow on his cheeks, “I did say that, yeah”
You waited a moment, but when he didn't say anything else you raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.
“Ah, it's nothing” he spoke with a nervous chuckle, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away.
“Nothing?” you asked, tipping your head to the side, an almost teasing look in your eyes and a smirk crossing your lips.
He huffed slightly, his cheeks darkening further, “you shouldn't look at me like that, General”
Your heart pounded in your chest at his low and somewhat sultry tone, but it only spurred you on, “why not?”
“Because… you're my superior”
“No I'm not” you challenged.
You were no longer bound by the titles that once held you from each other, and you watched with a somewhat triumphant expression as you saw that realisation set into his face.
“No… you're not” he said slowly, quietly, as if testing the words to see how true they felt.
With an unhurried pace, but not hesitation, Rex reached out took your ankles, drawing your legs away from your chest and draping one one of them over his lap as he shifted towards you. He placed himself between your legs, taking your face in his hand and taking a moment to cast his gaze across your features.
“What are you waiting for?” you asked, your voice breathless.
Rex's lips quirked up slightly, in a coy manner that you'd never seen from him.
“My orders” he whispered, his breath fanning over your lips.
You bit into your lip as a surprised chuckle left you. You'd never known Rex act like this, but you weren't going to pass up the opportunity to take advantage of it.
“Kiss me, Captain”
“Of course, General”
His lips captured yours with a celerity, much less reserved an action that you’d come to expect from him. His hands snaked around your waist, his grip on you tightening as your met the intensity of his kiss with ardour, pulling him in by his neck.
His lips started exploring past the bounds of your lips, trailing kisses along the underside of your jaw and throat, his teeth dragging along your collarbone. You could scarcely believe it was happening, and your fingers pinched the skin of your wrist to make sure. You felt Rex huff a laugh against your skin before he pulled back from you, which only made you shudder.
“Did you just pinch yourself?” he asked in a breathy chuckle.
“Shut up” you laughed in reply, an embarrassed blush scorching your ears as you pulled his lips back onto yours.
summary: after an unsuccessful mission, you and Cassian hope to land somewhere comfortable for the night, but you get a bit more than you bargained for
tags/warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY !!! only one bed trope (gasp), coworkers/friends to lovers, slight angst at the beginning, smut, pinv sex, kinda miscommunication not really, reader is just a bit of a worrier
a/n: call this an au I guess cause it doesn't really line up with anything in the series, still nailing down my characterisation as well so go easy <3
word count: 5.3k
The mission had been a complete nightmare.
Everything that could have gone wrong seemed to go off without a hitch, like the cruel joke of a cackling deity watching from the heavens. It’s really anyone’s guess as to how either of you escaped with your lives at all, but safe to say that now you need somewhere to lay low, not to mention that you’ve been to hell and back in a day, and you’re exhausted. That’s why you’re here, on some backwater planet you know not the name of, and you’re climbing the stairs of a motel with heavy footsteps.
Cassian has been in a foul mood since your near-miss of a getaway — not that you’ve been particularly perky — and the last thing you need is for one more thing to go wrong today. You can’t blame him, he had drawn up the plan for the mission himself, and it would’ve been a perfect one had the intel not have been wrong. You’ve been working alongside him long enough that you know not to say anything, to let him stew in his own self-loathing for a little while before you try to convince him that it wasn’t his fault. His dedication to the rebellion is rivalled by almost none, and oftentimes it appears as if he carries all of its burdens with him, weighing down upon him as if they sit upon his very shoulders.
He can be intense, in that way, but you know him better than most. You know his commitment stems from how deeply he cares for the people around him, for how he wishes for a better galaxy where the need for such rebellion is undone. He feels more deeply than he lets on, always surrounded by a shell of indifference to keep others at arms length. He wears it like a mask, but you see it as it is; it’s a preventative measure.
You try to bring what levity you can in the quiet moments between missions, sharing a joke and smile when appropriate, and have succeeded in getting him to loosen up every once in a while, but have found that it’s too much for just one person to shake the foundations of someone’s beliefs. Though, if he didn’t feel so deeply then he would be a different man, and you wouldn’t trade that for anything. Even when he watches you in briefings, or in the field, like he’s waiting for you to mess up, you know his intentions are strictly honourable. You know it’s not because he wants you to fail, it’s so he’ll be prepared to swoop in if you do.
Even still, he can be frustrating in his persistence to shut you out. You’ve been working closely with him for years, and sometimes it feels as if you don’t even know him at all. You’ve grown to learn his patterns, searching for clues in the way he holds himself and what each facial expression truly means to say, and you know he’s done the same for you. Most wretchedly, you know it wouldn’t be anywhere near as frustrating if you didn’t find yourself entirely infatuated by him.
For all his supposed indifference, it would be hard to look past his valour as anything less than admirable. The way he bares it leaves much to be desired, but he has let you see through the facade enough times to the point where you can’t help but let your admiration grow into something else, something more complicated. It’s tough to navigate, being attracted to someone you work with so often, but you can be objective for the most part. You know it’s not practical in any sense, so you bury it deep, reserve the feeling for fleeting moments where you can look at him and ponder how, in a different life, it may have worked out.
That is why, when you open the door to find just one bed inside the only room that was available at the motel, your heart sinks. You hope desperately that it won’t be an extra point of contention, opting just to place your pack down on a side table and see how Cassian reacts to the unfortunate circumstances. He enters the room after you, raising his gaze from his boots only when the door zips shut behind him. A heavy sigh passes his lips, and at first he doesn’t say anything, just staring at the offending piece of furniture.
“I’ll take the floor” he murmurs, dropping his own pack from his shoulder. If you weren’t so tired you feel you could laugh.
“Don’t be ridiculous” you chide and he turns to you, waiting for you to come up with a better solution, “it’s just one night. The bed is big enough for two”
His gaze remains unconvinced, eyelids heavy with weariness, and you roll your eyes to hide the slight pang of hurt in your chest.
“I’ll put a pillow between us if you’re that worried”
“I’m not worried” he says under his breath, his tone dismissive.
You don’t pay attention to it, knowing he’s still not of the mind to be entirely reasonable, and instead dig around in your pack to find the sleep clothes you had packed. You stride past him and into the refresher without another word, locking the door behind you and turning on the shower.
The steam that fills the small room seeps into your pores as you undress, and begins to unwind some of the tension that lingers in your muscles. When you step beneath the water, your body finally relaxes. The hardships of the day are washed away with every drop, anything that troubles you slips away, and your mind goes still for the first time in days.
You don’t indulge in the feeling for too long. You’re sure that there’s not much hot water to go round in this place, and if you don’t want Cassian to be in an even worse mood then it’s better to get out sooner and not push your luck. Just as quickly as you had undressed, you’re into your sleep clothes and stepping back into the room.
Cassian sat on the bed facing the refresher door, his elbows rested on his knees, one of them bouncing incessantly as he wrings his hands. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence as you step out, and your tendency to worry nags at you the longer you stand there. You call his name softly, making his head snap up. He takes in your appearance with a quick glance, unstately as it is being a large t-shirt and shorts.
“The ‘fresher is free” you mention and nod back to the open door.
“Right, yeah” he utters as he stands and grabs a bundle of cloth from his side, brushing past you to enter.
You sigh out of instinct as you switch off the light and slip under the duvet, cozying up against the wall and hoping to drift off to sleep before Cassian makes it out of the refresher. You hear the rhythmic sound of the water falling, and it’s a moment before you can tell he has stepped under the flow. The noise is somewhat hypnotic as it continues, enough to almost lull you to sleep, but soon enough the tap squeaks, and the water shuts off. You huff to yourself, hoping that falling asleep wont prove any more difficult than usual.
The door opens shortly after, flooding the room with light for a moment before it’s shut off. You’re faced away from him, but you hear his light footfalls as he pads over, and then the dip of the bed as he sits at its edge. He calls your name in a whisper and your chest tightens slightly, but you don’t reply, instead measuring your breathing so he might think that you have already fallen asleep. A sigh escapes him, and he gently lifts the covers to slip beneath. A few minutes pass, but he’s still doubtful.
“I know you’re awake”
You’re not in the mood to chat, not when your nerves are already so alert from how close his voice seems to you, how close he must be.
“Just go to sleep” you mutter as non-committally as you can.
“Fine” he mumbles, and seems to shift, “but I don’t bite”
You puzzle over the claim in your head, but quickly realise just how tightly you’re hugging the wall. You chuckle as you recognise the behaviour and relax, shuffling back the tiniest bit.
“You promise?” you jest, and he just chuckles lightly in response, a reaction that makes your heart flutter more than it should.
After a few moments, you can feel yourself drifting off to sleep.
There is only a small sliver of cold light through the curtain-less window when you wake. The planet’s moon, no doubt. Apart from that, it’s dark, and cold. You’re very cold.
It hadn’t been so as you fell asleep, but you assume the temperature had dropped since then, and perhaps it was your shower’s lingering warmth that kept you from noticing at the time. It doesn’t matter, because now it’s unbearable.
You shift your position, pulling your knees to your chest in an attempt to conserve what warmth you do have, and turn to face the other way. You’re not surprised to find that Cassian is there, but it’s a little disconcerting even still, not to mention that he’s not wearing a shirt.
You watch him for a moment to distract yourself. His chest rises and falls steadily, and his face is relaxed, that focused crease in his brow gone. He looks at ease — perhaps younger too. You go to reach out and brush a strand of hair from his face, but pull yourself back before you can make that mistake, scolding yourself. What you realise then is that he is warm. Heat seems to surround him, and you inch a little closer, feeling some of it radiating from him. You wonder briefly how that can be when his skin is exposed to the cold air, but you realise it is of little consequence.
As you try to relax, you quickly find that it’s not much better than before. You are still kept awake by the night’s preferred temperature. It would be difficult to get to your clothes without waking the man who lay next to you. Cassian was in a foul enough mood before, and you can’t imagine it would be much improved by waking him in the middle of the night. You decide that you’ll have to suffer in silence, and you hope that you can nap tomorrow on the ship.
You sigh, louder than you intended, though a true reflection of your frustration, and Cassian stirs. His eyelashes flutter, and you screw your eyes shut so he won’t catch the way you were staring at him. He shifts, then goes still, though it is rigid, not as if he has relaxed back into the mattress.
“You’re shivering” he says sleepily, his voice deeper and more rough than usual.
The tone sends a blush creeping up your neck and heating your cheeks, and you’re thankful that it’s dark enough that he won’t see. You crack one eye open to see him staring down at you with his usual frown.
“I’m fine”
He sighs aggressively, used to your stubborn ways.
“Just— come here” he says, and opens the covers slightly to invite you closer.
You feel your heart skip a beat, “I wouldn’t want to m—”
“Oh for kriff sake” he rolls his eyes and reaches for your waist, drawing you towards him, “it’s not a big deal”
A sigh escapes you as you try to accept the statement. It isn’t a big deal, not to him, and that’s what you have to remember. It doesn’t matter how your heart starts racing at his proximity, nor how you can feel goosebumps raise where his hand brushes your arm, because it doesn’t even affect him one bit. It’s just a friend helping a friend, and you know him better than to deny this help now.
Cassian keeps his arm across your waist as he settles into the mattress once more, and you’re sure he can practically hear how your heart beats faster every second. More rationally, he is close enough now that he may be able to feel it. As you shift, your foot accidentally nudges his, and his grip on you tightens marginally.
“You’re freezing” he mentions, and runs his palm up and down your back as if to warm you, “why didn’t you say?”
You remind yourself of his previous words. It’s not a big deal. You try to put to the back of your mind how gentle his touch is, how unlike him it feels despite being exactly what you expect. It is not a big deal.
“Didn’t see any point in waking you” you utter.
He hums, but it hold every bit of dissatisfaction as if you had said something completely offensive. Dropping your head forward in an attempt to hide, your forehead grazes his chest. Though you revel in the heat it brings, if even only through the violent blush that scorches your cheeks, you realise that you can feel his heartbeat too — and it seems to match yours.
It’s not a big deal, you remind yourself.
His hand runs up and down you back again, this time slower, and it takes everything within you not to give in to the shiver that threatens your spine.
“You could have woken me”
You don’t say anything, too afraid to say the wrong thing and expose something you wished you hadn’t. In a way, it feels wrong to let him offer this kindness. You’re sure that if he knew how you really saw him, he would not be doing this.
It’s not a big deal.
You manage to relax a little, and the more you relax, the more you can feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness. Cassian continues to rub your back, gently enough that it doesn’t disturb your fall into sleep, but firm enough that it’s more a comforting presence than anything. Before long, his touch is lighter, as if he thinks he’s keeping you awake. His fingers lightly trace along the curve of your spine and when your top catches and rides up, his warm skin comes into contact with yours. This time, you can’t suppress the shiver. It’s only light, but you know he notices.
His movements pause, then continue the moment after, but this time his fingers navigate the dip of your spine unfettered by clothing. He skims over the clasp of your bra before taking the path back down and it easily sets a heat burning low in your stomach, something pulling taught in anticipation. You would try to block it out and sleep, but as he continues, you can’t help but feel conflicted.
Is he toying with you? It doesn’t seem like something he’d do, but can this really mean nothing? Perhaps not to him, but he must know how his touch is affecting you, right?
You breathe out heavily as he dares to let his fingertips linger between your shoulder blades, sounding far more delighted than you expected, and Cassian freezes.
Without a beat your mind goes into overdrive, worry after worry piling up. You’ve made it weird, he knows you like him and he’ll push you away, he’ll never talk to you again. It’s a mess of insecurities that feel too juvenile to be given space, but you allow them to fester nevertheless.
Instead of heeding anything going on in your brain, Cassian relaxes his palm against your back, flexing it like he can’t decide what to do fast enough. A moment later, he slips his fingers around your forearm and directs you to hold him in a similar way. He’s tentative, uncertain, testing the waters. You’ve never known him to shy from anything, and his wavering only serves to make your nerves worsen. You’re unsure what he means to do, but when you feel his skin, soft beneath your fingers, all pretence of ignorance drops. You lightly swipe your palm across his back, settling at his waist, and feel his breath stutter.
You lift your head to look at him at last, and find that he’s watching you as he often does, but his frown is gone. His eyes are softer, less examining, and even in the dark you can see a tenderness in them. You say his name and it sounds like a question, because it’s almost as if you can’t believe it’s really him. You’re searching his eyes, looking for an answer to what’s happening.
He doesn’t answer, but lifts his hand to brush his knuckles over your cheek, settling his palm on your jaw. You can’t help but lean into it a little, trying to ground yourself. He traces his thumb over your cheekbone and just stares at you, his eyes scouring your face. You can’t understand what’s happening, but you’re happy to let it unfold. You can feel his breath over your lips, shallow and unsteady, and it dawns on you that he is actually somewhat nervous. Shifting your hand from his waist to his chest, you are rewarded with his lips finally meeting yours.
He’s slow, at first. His lips slide against yours with agonising featheriness. It feels as if he’s just out of reach, like he’s holding back, and the way his breath comes out in strained puffs confirms it.
You can’t say that you’ve never imagined what it might be like to kiss Cassian, nor anything beyond that, and it’s the reason you feel so surprised. He’s not so outwardly confident as some of the other pilots, but there’s an unacknowledged certainty of self that he exudes all the same, and an absolute familiarity within your partnership that usually means he can speak his mind, or has the freedom to be himself.
The restriction that he’s exhibiting feels unlike him. You give him more, a reminder of that kinship between you as you push forward for more pressure, and the kiss grows more heated quickly. Cassian meets your eagerness in kind, capturing your bottom lip between his as he pushes you to your back, hovering over you. His mouth is hot and heavy on yours now, and every second that passes makes your heartbeat quicken.
You respond to his newfound fervour with your own, your hand weaving through his hair as he continues to deepen the kiss. Still, his actions seem too controlled, each movement too precise. He’s still holding back, and you’re not entirely sure why.
The next moment, he’s pulling away from you, and you feel your heart sink at the sudden loss. His breath is heavy, trying to catch up with him, and your chest heaves as you stare up at him above you. There’s a flame in his eyes that’s begging to be given oxygen, and you begin to question what lit it to begin with. Neither of you says anything, but a silent communication passes between you, an understanding of what you both want in that moment, and his restraint seems to snap. You detach yourself from the more rational part of your brain that’s telling you what a foolish idea this is, and you surrender to him completely.
He brings his lips back to yours without another word, and the moments that follow are a blur. His knee is hooked under yours to position himself between your legs, his hands run over your body in featherlight touches, you back arches when he runs his thumb over the thin fabric that covers your hardened nipple. His kisses grow more insistent, more heady, and you’re happy to drown in this feeling. You hook your legs around his waist as the need within grows, and he growls into your neck, kissing slowly along your throat.
“You really want this?” he asks in low rumble against your skin.
“Yes” you breathe out shakily, “please”
You don’t know exactly what it is that you’re begging for, but Cassian seems to understand. He strips you of your shirt and bra in a few swift movements, proceeding to lavish your skin with attention as the garments falls away. Your head drops back against the pillow as you lose yourself in his touch, but you’re growing more desperate by the second. Your hands find purchase on his back, his heated skin beneath your palms. They must still be as cold as they feel to you, because he seems to flinch away. An apology is on the tip of your tongue as you retreat, but Cassian silences you with a deep kiss, shaking his head as he guides you back to touching him.
Soon enough your hands wind their way down to his waist, you tug at the waistband of his sleep trousers and he draws back momentarily to heed your voiceless wish. You slip out of your remaining clothes in the same breath, and the sensation of skin on skin as he returns is exhilirating. It’s all groping hands and unbounded desire, nothing but a ceaseless passion that drives you both, and your voice is silent to what is happening. It feels too good to be true. When he passes your entrance, sinking fully inside of you in one slow thrust, you can’t help but release a moan. Cassian swears under his breath, remaining fully seated in you before gradually pulling out.
There’s no rhythm between you. You’re both eager, and sloppy, but it doesn’t detract from the euphoria you feel. He goes slow, deep, his ministrations all-consuming in a way you’ve never experienced. Your mind almost can’t comprehend it. Any intimate encounters you’ve had previously were perfectly adequate, though had all been rushed, or rough. This is different. This feels like it’s more than that, imbued with passion. This feels like it means something.
Cassian takes your hands and threads his fingers through yours, pushing them into the mattress either side of your head. His forehead presses into yours, forcing you to look into his eyes. Heavied by lust or exertion, his eyes are half lidded as they pierce yours.
You feel so deeply connected to him. He’s gentle, but his actions are firm, certain. It’s a way of going on that makes you feel completely safe and taken care of, and it occurs to you that you have always felt that way in his presence. He’s hitting places that make you see stars with every languid stroke, and you’re sure no one has ever made you feel so incredible in your life. Still, you can’t seem to speak. You can’t tell him how much you love it, how good he’s making you feel. Even now, with him deep inside of you and staring into your eyes as if he can see your very soul behind them, that feels like a step too far. All that will pass your lips are pleasured sighs, choked breaths and moans into his mouth that he swallows with his kisses amidst quiet groans.
His pace picks up a little but it’s no less intense, and his fingers tighten in yours. Then he slows again, like his mind is catching up with his body. His mouth leaves yours but he doesn’t go far. You feel his lips press against your forehead, and it’s so gentle and tender you can’t help but melt. Against your better nature, you feel loved. In that moment, you know you’ll give him anything he wants, just to continue tangling yourself in this net of safety.
Cassian slips out of you to the tune of your whimper, the next moment flipping you smoothly to fall onto your knees. He pulls your hips back towards him and eases back in. The intensity of him, of the new angle, makes your head spin. He holds you close, one hand splayed on your stomach and the other holding the base of your neck. He kisses the back of your neck, your jaw, your temple, but you can hardly concentrate on any one sensation as you feel yourself coming undone.
You realise that you need to find your voice in this moment, but thankfully Cassian finds his for you.
“I've got you” he murmurs into your ear, voice like silk as his fingers travel down to trace you clit in tight circles. You whimper again, this time in earnest, and everything within you pulls taught. “That's it” he coos slowly, and his voice seems to echo in your head as his pace picks up with each thrust, “let go, baby”
It's his voice, his breath and lips against your ear that sends you over the edge. He guides you through it, riding out your pleasure and when you're spent, he pulls out and paints your back with his seed.
You're both breathing heavily, and you can feel each of his pants on your back as his forehead rests on your shoulder. He's still holding you close, and you're suddenly far more aware of how his skin feels on yours. You still can't find your voice, and the room seems too quiet, your breathing too loud, and you're not quite sure what's just happened. What will happen, going forward.
You feel nervous, but you take a chance and slide a hand to meet his, the one still holding you in place at your collarbones. He seems to think you're asking him to remove it, and he begins to do so, but you quickly weave your fingers between his to still the motion. His breath escapes him quickly in what feels like a sigh, of relief perhaps, and he lifts his head to press a kiss to the side of your neck.
“Let's get you cleaned up”
Cassian carefully removes you from his grasp so you won't run the risk of falling, and you settle back to sit on your feet as he makes his way to the refresher. You watch on as he grabs a clean towel from the rail beside the sink, and turns on the hot tap to run it under the warm water. His eyes trail your way, finding you still kneeling on the bed. His gaze scans your body, raking down your naked form, and suddenly you feel self conscious.
It's a ridiculous thought really, when he'd just had you pressed against him, a shuddering mess, and especially when he holds no judgement in his gaze. It does feel different now, though.
He returns to your side before your thoughts can spiral further, and drags the warm cloth across the planes of your bare back, cleaning up the mess he left behind. He’s gentle, but firm, and you know now that it’s just his way of being. His forehead drops to your back as he finishes, throwing away the towel. You feel his eyelashes flutter shut against your skin, and he exhales through his nose slowly, as if letting the weight of what has happened settle over him.
Cassian is pragmatic, you know this. You know he acts in the interest of what’s right, but also what is sensible. It’s the reason you’re scared to turn and face him now.
His hands take hold of your hips, brushing over your skin gently. Your body responds for you, curling your spine into him, and he wraps his arms around your waist and draws you between his legs, resting back on the bed’s headboard. He buries his face in your neck and breathes you in, but then it seems to catch up with him that you’re not speaking, that you’re slightly rigid in his arms.
Pulling back only an inch, he moves one hand from your stomach to take your chin and force you to look at him. You don’t know how to set your face, what you’re supposed to be feeling, so you don’t. For once you don’t try to mask your true emotions, and Cassian’s usual frown is beginning to crease his brow. He opens his mouth but doesn’t speak, like he doesn’t know what to say, or how to say it. His lips press together and he swallows, his eyes scanning your face before he meets your gaze with an unfamiliar lick of timidity.
“Was that… okay?”
You can’t help but laugh. Cassian relaxes a little, his expression softening.
“Okay might be a bit of an understatement” you mutter quietly, loud enough that only someone in his proximity could catch it.
Cassian laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, his eyes crinkling fondly, and you feel your heart leap at the sight. His arm tightens around you, but then his gaze grows serious again.
“What’s wrong?”
You smile lazily and shake your head, looking away, “nothing”
“Hey” he captures your chin more firmly and makes you look back into his eyes. You can feel that your smile is cracking around the edges, but he persists, “tell me”
You sigh and feel your cheeks growing hot, knowing that you’ve got to unearth some things that you wished would stay buried.
“I guess I’m wondering what comes next”
He nods once slowly, glancing away, openly pondering the statement. He’s taking it seriously, taking you seriously, but it’s clear that he doesn’t have an answer.
“I’m not sure” his eyes meet yours again, and you feel your heart begin to sink.
“Okay” you reply flatly, looking away.
You allow yourself the hurt that floods your system. You can at least give yourself the grace of selfishly indulging in his embrace for this moment, perhaps for this night, but then you know you’ll have to move on. Before that feeling of closure begins to fully grasp you, Cassian sighs and speaks your name.
“Look at me” he murmurs, “please”
You hesitate, but ultimately give in and turn to him. He runs his nose along yours as he captures your gaze in his dark eyes, widened by what feels like a longing, or a muted desperation.
“I only mean that it won’t be easy” he explains and threads his fingers though yours, “but I want this, whatever it is. If you’ll have me”
The sincerity in his voice is hard to miss, and the way he’s staring past your irises and into the cavity of your soul is enough to convince you of the conviction behind his words. Your body melds to his as your heart melts, and you press your lips to his in a lingering kiss.
“Of course”
Cassian’s eyes remain closed as he rests his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath and drawing you even closer with an arm across your waist.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?” he rumbles, disbelief framing his words.
“Since when?” you challenge, and his lips lift somewhere between a smile and a smirk before his eyes meet yours.
“The mission on Klatooine” he tells you, “I’d only known you for a couple weeks, and you pushed me and called me an arrogant bastard”
You chuckle dryly at the memory. You remember the look in his eyes when you’d done that. At the time you had chalked it up to shock, but now the scene plays differently in your mind. Somewhere in the back of your head, you’re floored that he’d felt this way for so long, but you can’t concentrate on it right now.
“Was I wrong?”
“Perhaps not” Cassian raises a brow, his head cocking at what he takes as a challenge, and you feel his grip loosen. His hand then trails down your stomach and dips between your thighs, lazily draws his fingers around your entrance, “shall we find out?”
Your head lolls back onto his shoulder and your eyes slip closed as he brushes over your clit. Cassian takes advantage of your position and maps a path of kisses down your neck, teeth grazing over your collarbone and drawing a heavy breath from your lips.
“I feel like I’m dreaming” you speak candidly.
Cassian chuckles, a pleasing buzz against your skin, “let’s hope we don’t wake up, then”
Captain Howzer x Kisku Neirkinn (Fem!OC / Twi'lek!OC / Politician!OC)
A/N: I'm finished being surly lol, gonna start posting this on here again. might put out two chapters a week til I catch up to myself
Chapter Word Count: 3.7k
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“Entering the upper atmosphere, secure harnesses for landing”
The ship shook ever so slightly as it passed through the clouds shrouding Ryloth’s surface. It was a Lambda-class shuttle, big enough that Kisku could find a quiet corner away from the man who called himself a Senator, but not so spacious that she could avoid him for the entire ride from Coruscant. She took her seat across him for landing, folding her hands in her lap and avoiding eye contact with both him and his aides. She had found them to be the most unpleasant company before she was ordered to return to her home planet, but now she couldn’t stand the sight of them.
It hadn’t always been so. She had once looked up to Senator Orn Free Taa as an example of a leader, of someone who treated his subjects with the due respect and care, and took his role as the planet’s mouthpiece seriously. For some time now, she had been trying to convince herself that it was still the case. However, this recent development had left a sour taste in her mouth. Her father had always told her she was too scornful, that she placed people on pedestals so high they couldn’t help but fall eventually. This was different in her eyes. This fall had been slow, and painful.
“Representative Neirkinn” Orn Free Taa’s heavy drawl called to her.
Kisku turned her attention forward to address him in a flat voice, “Senator”
She aimed to keep any lingering animosity out of her tone. If she was to be working more closely with him for the time being, it would serve little purpose to further widen the proverbial cavern between them.
“I need not remind you why you are here” he claimed, though the statement was reminder enough. Kisku knew that was how he meant for it to be taken, so she stayed silent. “In light of this, I would suggest making yourself scarce, where possible. You are only here because you have caused upset, and it would be best not to do so again”
Kisku nodded, even as her teeth ground together, “I understand”
‘Caused upset’ was a woolly description for what had happened. She had spoken out when her voice was deemed unneeded, that was all. No harm had been done to anything or anyone but perhaps the pride of the man who now flaunted the title of Emperor. Not that he had been present when aspersions were cast. Kisku was not someone who tried to ruffle feathers by nature, and the fact that she was now en route back to where her political career began, was enough to tell her just what to expect from this new Empire. Chancellor-turned-Emperor Palpatine and his Chairman, Mas Amedda, had been a contentious individuals for as long as she’d had to deal with them, but this was a new low.
Since leaving for Coruscant all those years ago, Kisku had not been back to her home planet. She had missed it greatly, but somewhere along the way it had come to be something she accepted; that she may never return. If she knew the conditions of her return now when she had accepted that, she would have cherished her time away more. Coruscant was never the planet she wished for herself to grow old on, but this was certainly a step backwards. It was hard not to feel cheated.
She blew out a long breath, slowly as to not get caught sighing by her travelling companions, and readjusted her skirts to lay more comfortably over her knees, smoothing down the velvet material so she would be presentable for the welcome to the senate bureau.
She was not looking forward to this in the slightest.
Howzer shifted in his place at the door. Politics was not his usual playground, and he wouldn’t pretend to know much if he was asked, but it was obvious that the recent rise of the Empire had changed the game altogether. No matter what it had been before, now his job was to guard, to watch. Though what he really found himself doing more exactly, was listening — and he didn’t like what he was hearing.
The tension that hung in the air of the conference room was so glaring it felt as if another person sat at the table, more indecent and jeering than the rest of them. Howzer stood rigid, hands folded behind his back and eyes straight ahead as if he was indifferent to the discussion. Cham engaged with diplomats of various denominations around the large oval table, and every word spoken of the newly risen power made Howzer’s stomach tie itself in knots. He had not been privy to many political conversations before the last few days, but even the language used in the discourse seemed changed. There was something at play, but he couldn’t place it.
Into the bargain, there had been some damning rumours floating around concerning the new refinery situated at the edge of the city. Howzer had attended some of the meetings in which the refinery was discussed, and no such inhumane regulations had been put into place, not by Cham or any of his collaborators. He knew not to put stock in false claims, but the whispers were only growing louder. In any case, he wouldn’t dare speak of it to Cham. Especially not now, while tensions were already running so high.
His superior’s face was focused as ever as he let his eyes scan the room. It was a particularly displeased expression that he had grown to know all too well, a deep frown that would ordinarily turn the tide of any conversation in his favour. The senatorial representatives did not seem phased, however. Howzer presumed they were more familiar with the ploys of politicians.
Then again, Cham was not a politician. Despite his commitment in the fight for Ryloth’s freedom, a commitment that far surpassed anything offered by Orn Free Taa, that was what he remained; a freedom fighter. The Hammer of Ryloth they called him, and he would squash anyone in his path eventually, no matter how they were resisting his opening gambit. It was what Howzer admired most about him, but it was also what worried him more than anything.
It would not be long before Cham would be disallowed from partaking in discussions so far above his purview, especially when it was well known that the true senator of Ryloth felt threatened by his mere existence. Howzer worried what Cham would do then, how he would act out if it was perceived they were aiming to force him into subservience.
“Captain,” the voice of his superior called to him. Howzer straightened, his gaze shifting over to the Twi’lek who approached, “are you alright?”
“Fine, sir” he replied resolutely with a respectful nod.
The diplomatic guests stood from their seats to file out into the hallway, and Cham gave him an unsubtly doubtful look as they passed by.
“Well then,” he gestured to the doorway, “we must now head downstairs to greet Senator Orn Free Taa in the foyer.”
Howzer winced internally as the door zipped closed behind him. He had never liked the politician. It was clear where his loyalties lay, and it wasn’t with the people he was supposed to be representing. Howzer didn’t play politics, but it didn’t take a genius to see that much.
He strode down the hallway in silence, the sound of his boots scraping the floor bouncing off the modestly decorated walls, filling the space instead. He kept one step behind Cham at all times, who in turn kept his distance from the senatorial reps that lead towards the turbolift.
“What is it, Captain?” the Twi’lek asked in a hushed voice, turning to face him.
Howzer released a heavy breath, his eyes dropping to the floor ahead of him so he wouldn’t have to lie to his face, “nothing, sir. It’s just been a long week”
Cham hummed, seemingly unconvinced by his explanation, but he didn’t question it further.
“Indeed it has been”
At the beginning of the week, Howzer was still a soldier of the Republic, a Captain in their Grand Army. Now? He wasn’t sure what he was, or what was to come of him either. Even before the emissaries from the core worlds had arrived, his men had been acting exceedingly strangely — more stiff, less amiable. It was a subtle enough shift, but with almost every solider adopting the attitude, it was more than a little jarring. Howzer didn’t know what to make of it. He figured that if he kept his head down and did as he was told for the time being then perhaps something would come to light.
The ride down to the ground floor was quiet, the lingering discomfort bred by political discussions leaving Howzer feeling restless. After a few minutes, the chime sounded to let them know they had reached the bottom, bringing a welcome reprieve to the irritability that surrounded the discontented politicians.
As the doors slid open, Howzer stepped out and watched as Cham’s wife, Eleni, swept down the stairs opposite, lifting the hem of her dress in one hand. She always held herself with the grace of a queen, acting accordingly, but he knew she also had a fire in her only rivalled by her husband. Howzer gave a steady bow of his head as she joined them, and she smiled warmly at him in return before greeting her husband with a kiss to his cheek.
“Where is our guest, my dear?” Cham asked, running a hand down her arm.
Eleni chuckled, a pleasant and breathy sound, “patience, my love”
As if on cue, the grand doors that opened into the courtyard parted, and a party of four were ushered in. The first was the Senator himself, an immediately recognisable figure, followed by two aides that Howzer had seen accompanying him before. The last individual was somewhat hidden from his view, though he caught the lilac hue of their skin from between the others.
He moved away to the base of the stairs to watch over the scene, keeping his distance as always. It was not part of his job to engage with the politicians, so he tried to stay away from them as much as he could, always opting to hover at the edge of everything. It was certainly no shame to miss out in conversation with Orn Free Taa, in any case.
The Senator stepped forward to greet Cham, still talking quietly with his aides.
“Senator” Cham welcomed him inside, “how wonderful it is to see you”
Howzer could hear the strain in his voice as he spoke the false words, and in the reply from the Senator even more so. He was not interested in the specifics of the mock flattery between the rival Twi’leks, even more so as his focus was drawn by the final member of their party.
Her demeanour was a stark contrast to that of her counterparts. She bore a plain expression, with none of the smug self-importance that the others had so perfected. Her clothes were a little more grandiose than the aides, robes of rich velvet and silk handing from her frame, cinched against skin and flowing freely in equal measure. She appeared regal, and yet there was something reserved about her, as if she didn’t want to make herself known.
Howzer’s eyes trailed down her lekku, stretching past her waist and adorned by pale swirling markings which reached forwards beneath her headdress. Her grey eyes were darkened by makeup, lips painted to match the burgundy of her dress, and a dainty gold chain adorned her neck, sitting comfortably between her collarbones. She piqued his interest quite naturally.
Her eyes found his a number of times as the politicians spoke in strained pleasantries, and each time he was struck by a certain mirth that she carried. He tried to keep from staring outright, not wishing to appear improper, but his gaze always seemed to find its way back to her.
At length, she was finally noticed and addressed by Eleni. She asked her name, reaching for her hand to shake. The Twi’lek parted her lips to reply, but the Senator cut in before she could speak.
“My aide” he explained curtly, “Kisku”
Kisku briefly glanced at the Senator before bowing her head to in Eleni in a polite nod, “it’s a pleasure to meet you ma’am”
Her accent was similar to that of the other Twi’leks, though softened, a slight Coruscanti twinge that betrayed where she had travelled from.
Eleni smiled graciously, “the pleasure is all ours”
Kisku stepped back, her hands folded neatly in front of her, and the conversation shortly dwindled. Cham was clearly finding that he had little to say to the pompous Senator, and thankfully he was saved by way of his daughter invading the room with her droid in toe. Howzer’s lip twitched at the sight, fighting off an amused smile at Orn Free Taa’s visible discomfort at the intrusion. He kept his head down, but instinctively glanced over at the woman he now knew by the name of Kisku, and was pleasantly surprised to find that she too was hiding her laughter.
Her lips were twisted in a smirk, shielding it behind her hand, though nothing was hidden from the clone. Her eyes met his, a shared amusement passing between them which left them both clutching harder for their composure.
Howzer was already convinced that, in time, he would find this new Twi’lek to be a welcome guest.
When Howzer exited the barracks the following morning, he was displeased to find that the air outside still felt as heavy as it did inside. It had been that way since the shift in power, an invisible mist that surrounded the people of Ryloth, specifically his men. He took a deep breath, seeking some of the fresh air that should be present on sunny mornings such as that, but evidently the powers of the galaxy didn’t see fit to reward him with any relief.
His walk towards the Senate bureau was short enough, but Howzer revelled in every moment he could. Before long he’d be holed up inside the stuffy room once more, listening to overzealous politicians discuss the future of the planet, as if they knew the first thing about the inhabitants of it. Howzer couldn’t help but feel resentful towards the bureaucrats. They posed as public servants, but he knew from being on the inside of their talks that they only cared for themselves. It was the reason that Cham and his freedom fighters had had to step up during the war.
He tried not to let it weigh on his mind too much. There was nothing he could do to fix it, after all, and with the Empire of the rise, he wouldn’t presume that anyone else could either. He held back a sigh as he turned the corner into the square that the bureau overlooked, its imposing stature casting a shadow that felt eerily like an omen. As he strode across the square, his eyes caught a glimmer of light, shining and dancing in the early morning sun, which he discovered had bounced from the silver hardware of an individual’s outfit.
Howzer did not expect to see Kisku again so soon. He presumed that with her being in Orn Free Taa’s entourage, and Cham being so vehemently against the Senator, their paths would not naturally cross. Although now, he couldn’t help but notice how utterly lost she appeared to be, slowly wandering along the edge of the square, unsure and glancing up at the building. Howzer fixed a polite smile on his face and adjusted his grip on his helmet, changing his direction to cross in her path.
“Are you alright, miss?” he asked softly, not wishing to scare her.
Kisku whirled around nonetheless, evidently a little surprised to have been approached. The moment her eyes crossed his, he could see the embarrassment flash across them, as if she wasn’t used to being caught off guard. She let out a quiet and self-deprecating chuckle, an acknowledgement that she’d been observed as being in need of help.
“I appear to be lost” she informed him, though he had already figured as much.
He didn’t feel the need to tell her, instead asking, “where are you headed?”
“I’m not entirely sure, it’s been so long since I was last here” she admitted, a mauve blush prickling at her cheeks. Howzer gave a patient smile as she collected herself, finding it difficult not to be instantly enraptured by the way she conducted herself. “Might you know where the Senator resides?” she asked, a certain hopefulness in her eyes.
He nodded, “I can show you the way, if you like”
Kisku’s eyes seemed to light up at his words, “that would be lovely, though I do hope it’s not too far out of your way”
“It’s not” Howzer assured with a kind smile, nodding towards the building that towered above them, “this way”
She followed him silently across the square, and he took stock of her in a flick of his eyes. Her robes were a dark plum colour, a little less formal than the queenly get-up she had been sporting the previous day, but exceedingly opulent nonetheless. It was hard not to notice the quality of her attire, not only because of its sophistication, but because it was so foreign to Howzer. He never changed from the armour that he presently wore on his back, save for his blacks, but that suited him fine — of all the things in his life that he might have to worry about, he was glad that clothes was not one of them
Howzer wasn’t especially certain on where he stood against Kisku in a hierarchical sense, as he had never had much interaction with the other aides that usually accompanied the Senator. He didn’t know what the correct way to address her was, if he should have spoken to her at all, or what was the proper amount of conversation to entertain. He often found that these were things to consider in the realm of politics, and it was a level of propriety he was still to become accustomed to.
“How long have you been working for Senator Taa?” he inquired, holding open the door to the building for Kisku to pass through.
She nodded appreciatively, though he noticed the way she sighed, squaring her jaw before speaking, “a little over 3 years”
“So… you live on Coruscant?” he prompted, aiming to move that conversation from the imperious senator.
“I did” she looked up at him as they walked in tandem, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips that betrayed a sense of wistfulness.
Howzer instinctively raised his brows under her steady gaze, “you don’t like it here?”
“I do” she confirmed in an assured voice, her hands closing around her robes and lifting them an inch as she began climbing the stairs, “it’s my home planet, it’s just…”
Her throat tightened as she forced herself to swallow, burying her words. The action was filled with all the grace and restraint of a politician, though it was obvious that something was bothering her.
She gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “I shouldn’t say. It’s not my place”
Howzer nodded with an amiable enough expression, though his eyes observed her movements carefully. Her fingers slotted together as the two of them reached the top of the stairs, hands joined in front of her robes, her gaze ahead of her, fixed and steady, and her mouth a hard line. She was impossible to read, and he found it more than a little unnerving.
“What about you?” she asked, turning the question back on him, “do you like it here?”
Howzer was a little startled. Aside from his brothers, no one but Cham or Eleni ever asked him about himself. There was an expectancy in her eyes however, something kind and patient as she waited for him to reply, something that told him she cared to know his answer.
“Oh, uh… well,” he began a little inelegantly, “anything is better than Kamino, I suppose”
Kisku chuckled, a charming sound that made Howzer’s heart flutter with pride, “have you always been stationed here?”
“For most of my time in the war, yes” he replied, guiding her through a doorway and towards the office that he had been searching out.
The hall was far more luxurious than those which Howzer usually passed through. There were grand arches framing the ceiling, satin curtains which swayed gently in the breeze with the lavish wooden windows thrown open to overlook the city. Kisku seemed to fit into the space more naturally. Her garb didn’t seem so imposing anymore, and not for the first time among such company, Howzer suddenly felt a little under dressed.
“Well, this is it” he smiled cordially, gesturing a gloved hand to the door at the opposite end of the hall. It seemed an appropriate buffer; an elegant hall to ward off any beings of lesser standing such as himself, to welcome the stature of senators and the like.
“Thank you” Kisku halted, squaring her shoulders with his and giving him an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask your name”
Howzer couldn’t help but regard her with more warmth, a smile of more intention. He had never known a politician of any sort apologise to him.
“It’s Howzer” he spoke softly, “and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am”
The woman before him let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head with a certain twinkle in her eye, “the pleasure is all mine, as long as you don’t call me that again”
“Certainly” he huffed quietly in a self-deprecating manner, “my apologies”
“No need for apologies” she waved away the notion, “but thanks are in order. I would never have found my way here without you”
Kisku held out her hand, and it took a moment for Howzer to register what it was she meant to do. He hesitated a second longer even so, unsure if it was proper conduct to be touching Senate officials, but her gracious expression made him give in. He took her hand and shook it firmly, though not gripping too hard for how delicate it looked wrapped by his fingers.
“Anytime” he bowed his head in respect and let his hand fall from hers as he exited the hallway.
Howzer could now admit that he was entirely fascinated by Kisku. She had an air of such importance, especially for only being an aide. Though alongside that, she was unlike any of the Senate members he had had the misfortune of crossing. By contrast, she actually seemed pleasant to be around.
He walked the route towards Cham’s office, and had to suppress the grin that threatened to take over his face. He didn’t exactly know what he was grinning about, but he felt anything that could draw such a reaction from him in the troubling times he inhabited surely couldn’t be a bad thing.
tags: @jetii — I'm being kinda presumptuous cause my taglist was set up wrong when you filled it out lol, lmk if you wanna be taken off <3
description: commander wolffe likes to berate you when you go against his orders, but this time, you can't supress the visceral reaction it brings.
warnings: not necessarily enemies to lovers but... a decent amount of arguing, mentions of negative clone treatment, i think that's it? idk man I'm tired
a/n: this is for all the girlies that cry when someone raises their voice at them! (me) anyway... i get nervous when discussing the treatment of clones and other kinda touchy stuff bc i just have this nagging feeling that i'm always interpreting stuff wrong, so I hope the stuff wolffe says at the end makes sense lmao
masterlist | join my taglist | read on ao3
You heard your name called after you before you managed to make your escape to your quarters, desperately trying to avoid confrontation. Ignoring the Commander’s calls, you hurried down the hall, your strides much wider than your usual gait. You managed to get the door open, but a large hand wrapped around your wrist before you could evade the uncomfortable conversation.
“Where do you think you’re going?” The Commander snarled, tugging you back into the corridor and slamming his fist into the control panel to shut the door.
You lifted your eyes to his for a moment, your head still angled to the floor as if it would shield you from his foul temper. You had never seen him so angry.
“I asked you a question, soldier” He said, his voice dangerously low as his face drew near to yours, “Did you really think I’d let you off after what you just pulled?”
“Sir, I didn’t mean to—”
Wolffe interrupted you with a sarcastic laugh, “Didn’t mean to? You’ll have to do better than that”
You couldn’t look at him. You knew he’d react like this when he found out, but you still hated when he was angry with you. He was more hard on you than his brothers, he always had been. So much so that you felt there was something unsaid between the two of you, that there was some itch that he wouldn’t stop scratching even though he wouldn’t acknowledge what it was.
“I’m sorry sir” You peeped out. It was the only thing you could say.
You had no explanation for your actions. You had gone directly against his orders, knowingly, deliberately. You knew he would find out, you knew he’d berate you for it, and you did it anyway. You’d do it again if you got the chance.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it” He began, and you let him scold you without interruption, “I have told you, countless times, you do not get involved in the conflict. No matter what. Do you know how it makes me look?”
He paused, but you knew the question was rhetorical. In that silence it was hard not to think about the feel of his hand wrapped around your wrist, still keeping you in your place.
“I makes me look like I can’t control those under my command. If a medic can go against my orders then what’s to stop the rest of the men? Or the other nat-borns? I mean, do you even think? Clearly you don’t. You don’t have combat training, you could’ve been hurt, or you could have died”
He continued on, but you tuned him out. You had heard this barrage of demeaning comments more than once, and it was starting to feel like maybe it had become one time too many. If you had any more backbone you would’ve told him how much you despised when he did this. Although, Wolffe — along with almost everybody aboard the ship — was above you in rank. You couldn’t possibly give back to him this belittling commentary, so once again you stayed silent.
The worst part was that most of the time, Wolffe wasn’t even unbearable to be around, far from it. At any other time he was kind, in his own way. It wasn’t a way in which you’d seen anyone else express kindness, but you’d come to understand the way he operated a little by now. For example, something you had retroactively realised was a display of compassion, was that when you first joined the 104th, he had checked up on you everyday, albeit not in a particularly cheerful way. He had made sure you were comfortable in your new quarters, the ones you were now stood outside of being reprimanded.
There was something gnawing at the back of your mind, the feeling that you shouldn’t have to put up with this. You could hear your father in the back of your head, telling you that you had to learn to stand up for yourself. You hadn’t looked up at Wolffe once through his ranting, and you didn’t plan on it either, especially now as you felt your eyes becoming heavy with tears.
It was a natural response. You never liked being told off, and right now you felt as if you were a child again, your parents giving you a lecture about your shortcomings. Hot tears rolled down your cheeks in a similar manner, silent and unacknowledged.
You didn’t know when Wolffe had finished laying into you, but when you stopped reflecting on the past and came back to the present moment, you realised that he wasn’t speaking anymore. You hazarded a look at him, once again keeping your chin pointed down. He was just staring down at you, his scowl replaced in favour of a more uneasy frown, finally removing his hand from your wrist.
“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, clearly unsure of how to even approach the situation.
“I’m fine” You replied, and your voice was surprisingly even.
He was still just peering down at you through his creased brow, frozen in his place and out of his depth.
“Why are you crying?” He addressed the situation head on.
“I’m not crying”
“You are”
“I’m n—”
“You are”
You looked to your feet, feeling absolutely infinitesimal under the full scrutiny of his commanding presence.
“Alright fine, maybe I am” You admitted in a whisper.
“Why?” He asked firmly.
“No reason”
“No reason?”
“Yep, no reas—”
“Stop it” He interrupted again, “What’s wrong?”
You let out a long breath, your chest heaving before it escaped your pursed lips. You could taste the saltiness of your tears, and you lifted a hand to wipe one of your cheeks.
“I just don’t like being told off okay? I can’t help it”
“I wasn't telling you off, I was—”
When he didn’t finish his sentence your eyes flicked back up to his. His frown had softened, and he was now chewing on his lip as if he was looking for something to say. You huffed quietly, your cheeks scorching with embarrassment at the whole situation.
“If it's alright with you sir, I'd like to retire to my quarters now” You spoke quietly, trying to escape this situation that was nothing if not awkward.
Wolffe stepped back from you, clearing his throat, “Yeah, go ahead”
You turned back to your door and opened it up. You had only taken one step inside when Wolffe spoke up again.
“Wait”
You turned around, your eyes finding his, flitting between the cybernetic and the natural. His usual scowl was nowhere to be seen, and he just looked at you with a plain expression, something unreadable.
“I don't want to have to tell you off” He said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.
You mustered up a little courage after his change in demeanour, “Then why do you?”
His throat bobbed as he gulped, “I just want you to be safe”
The way that he was staring at you was entirely too much for you to cope with, so you lowered your gaze once again before you replied.
“Thank you sir, I appreciate that”
Wolffe reached up slowly, gently taking your chin and guiding your eyes to his. He gazed upon you with the utmost sincerity and apology as his thumb swept across your still-wet cheek.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you”
“That's oka—”
“It's not” He spoke resolutely, with no room for argument, then softened his voice a little, “You understand that I don't like to be angry with you, right?”
Something about your expression must have conveyed a sense of doubt, because Wolffe frowned when you didn’t reply.
“Do you really think-?”
“I don't think, remember?” You replied, in a oddly humorous way, despite the previous tone of the conversation. Wolffe gave you a disapproving look, and you backtracked, “Sorry Commander”
Wolffe was still holding you face, and the way his eyes were searching yours was making your stomach erupt into butterflies. His gaze was captivating, cementing you in place and rendering you speechless in a completely different way to when he had been scolding you earlier. You didn’t want to be the first one to break away, and thankfully Wolffe came to his senses soon enough.
“I should go”
He dropped his hand from your chin and stepped back. You nodded subtly in reply to his words, still unable to form your own, and he turned to leave with haste.
You watched him walk away as you leaned on your doorway, stalking down the hall with a pace to rival your hurried steps from earlier. His head turned back to you briefly, and you both instantly looked away, you stepping back into your room and closing the door as you felt your cheeks burn hot from being caught watching him.
It felt like something had shifted in your relationship, like something significant had happened. Perhaps it was your inadvertent show of vulnerability, perhaps it was the way his touch set your skin alight. Whatever it was, it was something that you couldn’t take back. Whatever was unsaid between you was coming to light, and you cursed your racing heart for getting ahead of itself.
You were crouched behind cover, your eyes locked on a trooper that had been knocked to the ground. He wasn’t moving, but going over to see if he was still alive was too risky, even if the focus of the enemy’s fire wasn’t in his direction any longer. You lingered, waiting to see even the slightest twitch of his fingers. He continued to lay motionless, his body sprawled in an uncomfortable position from the heavy blow he had received. You hoped, prayed, and they were answered in an instant, the man’s body curling in on itself as he groaned in pain.
You gulped, and slowly turned to look over your shoulder, only to see Wolffe watching you like a hawk.
“Don't you dare” He shook his head slowly, his voice low, almost a growl.
You hung your head a little, squeezing your eyes closed for a brief moment.
“I'm sorry Commander”
You rushed out from behind the cover, hearing your name being screamed after you in a desperate plea for you to do anything else. You didn’t pay attention, you were solely focused on making it to the trooper.
You pulled the man to his feet, throwing his arm around your shoulders and making your way back to cover, but you were not so lucky as to evade danger. Blasterfire ripped through the air surrounding you, causing you to duck out of its path, and take the injured man down with you.
“Get out of here!” The Commander shouted at you, stepping in front of you and shooting at the droids that had focused their fire in your direction.
You dragged to man the short distance back to cover, and as you were giving him a once over, assessing the issue, Wolffe ordered another medic to take over and tugged you further back from the front lines, around the corner of a crumbling building.
“What the kriff is the matter with you?”
He was angry. More angry than he had ever been, more angry than the previous rotation. And yet, there was a far clearer emotion swimming in his non-cybernetic eye, dripping from his pinched brows, washing over you with every heavy breath he exhaled. Worry, concern, utter distress.
“I thought I made it pretty clear that I don't want you anywhere near the action” He growled, evidently struggling to keep his emotions in check.
Despite his afflicted demeanour, you didn’t feel like having a repeat of the previous rotation, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins only sought to heighten you irritation.
“And I thought I made it pretty clear that I don't appreciate being told off” You grumbled back to him, not feeling brave enough to say it with your chest.
“Then stop doing stupid things!” He rebutted, his voice conveying every inch of exasperation he felt.
You shook your head as you dragged your gaze from him, starting to walk away. You weren’t going to be talked to like this again. For the second time in the last rotation, Wolffe’s hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist, tugging you back.
“I'm talking to you”
“Well I'm not talking to you” You snapped, snatching back your arm and finally letting your irritation take over.
At first, Wolffe appeared to be taken aback. You had never so much as argued back at him before, but something about the fire burning in his eye told you that it was welcomed. He wanted you to fight back. He liked that you were fighting back.
“I refuse to be reprimanded for doing the right thing” You continued, letting him hear your true feelings on the matter.
“You refuse?” Wolffe seemed almost amused.
“Yes” You replied, but your confidence was slipping, “I refuse”
Wolffe laughed, taking a step towards you, “And I suppose you think you have the authority to refuse my orders? Seeing as it's the only thing you can seem to do right”
You stepped away from him, but with every step you took, he followed after you. It wasn’t long until he had backed you into the wall, and was towering over you with a challenging look on his face.
“I have free will, is what I have” You puffed out your chest in defiance, causing it to come into contact with his chestplate, “And I will use it to do the right thing, consequences be damned”
“It must be nice to be you, huh?”
You just frowned, not entirely sure what made him say that.
Wolffe’s face became stern, “You just get to flit about, playing the hero when you could so easily become the martyr acting the way you do, claiming it's all about ‘free will’ and ‘doing the right thing’. Well guess what? I don't have those luxuries. If I disobey orders, I get court martialled. I don't have free will, and I don't get to do the right thing, I get to do as I'm told”
You swallowed thickly as your body recoiled from his in shame. From his perspective, your actions certainly seemed silly and plainly misguided. Perhaps they were.
“I'm sorry Commander, I didn’t think—”
“No, you don't think, do you?” He retorted quickly.
You frowned deeply, drawing an enervated sigh from Wolffe.
“I would love to be able to consider what is right and wrong, but I am simply not allowed. Having the ability to think, to form thoughts unique to myself, but not get to enact any sort of ‘free will’, it's—” He breathed deeply, his forearm coming to rest on the wall beside your head, “Oh, the things I would do if I had free will”
His eyes bored into you through heavy eyelids, his self control hanging by a thread. He was so close to you, his body pressing yours into the wall, and it was taking all of your strength to not melt against him.
“What would you do?” You spoke softly, guiding him in the right direction.
He didn’t waste any time in replying.
“I would tell you that the reason I don't want you around the action, the reason I can't stand your stupid moral compass which makes you do stupid things, is because the idea of you getting hurt is my own personal hell. I would grab you and hold you close and keep you safe, I would never let you go. I would—” He puffed out a quick breath, mingling it with your own as he drew impossibly closer, “I would kiss you, and do every other thing I've been dreaming of since the first moment I met you. I would throw all of this away, if I got that chance”
There was not a single one of his words that were processing in your brain. For a moment you just stared at him, shocked, before the surprise melted from your face and you offered every measure of tenderness within you in a single look.
“Wolffe” You whispered, reaching up and placing a hand on his cheek.
His eyes closed at your touch, and his troubled expression eased slightly. He let out a shaky breath as he took in the warmth of your skin on his, but as soon as he had revelled in it for a moment too long, he put up his walls again.
“But it doesn’t matter, because I don't have free will” He stepped back from you but you were determined now, following after him.
“Well I do”
You practically leapt at him, your hands finding the back of his neck and pulling him against you, bringing him into a searing kiss. His hands instantly flung around your waist, tightening around you and drawing you into his body as if he was never going to let go, just as he promised. It was as if he only needed you to be the one that initiated it, and now, he had forgotten everything that was stopping him in the first place.
You let your fingers tangle in the curls at the base of his neck, and he pushed you backwards into the wall again, a soft groan sounding in the back of his throat. One hand came up to cup your cheek, and you were surprised at how softly he held you, a direct contrast to the way that he was devouring your lips, consuming your very soul with only his mouth and tongue.
You had to pull away, gasping for breath, and he did the same. He held you close as you both caught your breath, staring into each other’s eyes with a newfound fondness. It was intoxicating, to see him like this; his chest heaving from having kissed you with such an intensity. You felt like your psyche was being ripped from you with each heavy exhale, and you were watching from outside of your body.
“I'm never letting you go now” He continued to hold onto you like his life depended on it, burying his face in the exposed skin of your neck.
“I thought-”
“Don’t” He rumbled, “I don't care what I said before, there's no going back now”
You sighed blissfully and mirrored him, and coiling your arms around his neck and holding him tightly. The feel of his breath against your neck was heady, deeply exhilarating, but in the quiet of the moment, you couldn’t help but remember you were in the middle of a battle.
“Maybe we should-”
He lifted his head and cut you off with a deep kiss. You were powerless to stop him, but you didn’t care to anyway.
“Just a little longer” He pleaded, his eyes soft and slightly widened, “Please”
You let a small smile lift the edges of your lips, enamoured by the soft side that this kind of treatment brought out of him. It was almost amusing, how different he was acting as compared to his usual authoritative demeanour. He was putty in your hands, and you didn’t quite know how to handle it.
You brushed your lips lightly against his and spoke with a teasing edge, “Yes sir”
