NOBODY FUCKING MOVE.

NOBODY FUCKING MOVE.

holy shit

giggling and twirling my hair

Prompt: Fixer + Armor Fitting

This ended up being a bit less fluffy and a bit more tension-filled, but I got a kick out of writing it, so enjoy! To request your own fluffy fic, read the rules here and drop a request in my inbox!

—

“I still don’t see why this is necessary,” you complained, waiting for the armory droid to come back with another set of armor. 

Fixer pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously as fed up with you as you were with him. “Again, if you’re going to go out on missions with us, we need to make sure that you have the gear you need to survive.”

“And how did you end up on escort duty, again?” 

“That’s just how things worked out,” he deflected. A second later, he muttered something that sounded like, “Also, Boss cheats at sabacc.”

You laughed at that and Fixer glared. Before he could say something that would escalate the situation, the droid came back with a new stack of plastoid.

“This will be closer to the correct size,” the droid chirped, holding the armor out to you. Obligingly, you accepted it and set about attaching the pieces to the modified black body glove you wore. 

The process was slow, almost painfully so. You had never been asked to wear armor with any of the other units you had been attached to and had retained only a passing knowledge of the different plates until about an hour ago. Now you had the process down, but it wasn’t remotely fast. The droid powered down while it waited for you and Fixer grew increasingly impatient.

Eventually, he sighed one too many times and your temper got the best of you. “I don’t need you here for this to be awful. Can you do us both a favor and wait in the mess?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Fixer snapped. “Putting on armor is a process that should take three minutes, not twenty.”

Keep reading

you can’t tell me we’re not about to enter the no scrubs music video

Lmao get Grievous’d.