Heated

13

CW: Sexual and physical assault

"Please make it stop," I pant as I sit with my back against the wall, trash can in my lap.

"First time hangovers are the worst," Lux says, smiling at me from his swivel chair.

"Look at you all happy and healt-" I am cut off when a wave of nausea causes me to spill the contents from last night into the trash can.

A sheen of sweat has taken over my brow, "Fuck, kill me now! Where is Vader when you need him?"

Lux just laughs out loud at my misery. "Fuck yo-" I start before I'm puking again.

I just hear Lux laughing harder, practically wheezing at this. I flip him off while my head is buried in the trash can, only spurring him on.

"Hey at least you're not in Stryker's condition right now. That fucker is in the medical unit, faking a concussion just to get pain meds." I smile knowing he is also in pain with me.

"Fuck it I might do the same thing," I joke. Finally feeling the sensation of nausea leave my body, leaving behind a killer headache.

"Good luck with that. I am gonna grab lunch, and I am bringing you back an apple, and I will force you to eat it."

I groan at the thought of food entering my body, but I'm sure that's what it needs right now.

"I'll be here."

—

Lux was right. That apple saved my life.

I feel much better. Nevertheless I'm still hungover, but I feel much better.

"Alright, I'm gonna head to Ordnance bay. I am way behind," I tell lux as I stand to walk out the door.

"Hey if Stryker is in there go ahead and give him the middle finger for me." He calls out from behind me.

I just give him a thumbs up from over my shoulder and exit.

The bright fluorescent lights burn my retinas and the loud sounds of blasters hurt my head.

Fuck.

The cargo delivery finally delivered the proper material so Starfighter began assembling more silenced E-11 blaster in preparation for the upcoming raid on the planet Hoth.

But we were way behind, since someone had to kill two other tactical operators. So it was me and three others, which was in no way enough people to assemble hundreds upon hundreds of weapons.

Vader and Tarkin had us working overtime to meet our Blaster quota by the end of the week.

Speaking of the devil, Vader storms through the doors. Something about him makes my head buzz and I feel my headache amplify in his presence.

Fuck this. I think, but my eyes widen when I remember he can hear me.

I mean, I am working so hard. Definitely not hungover.

The shadow appears in my peripheral,

"How is your work coming along," I'm getting DeJa Vu from when he asked me that over a week ago, when I blatantly lied to his face about my half-finished blueprints.

Then cumming on his fingers on the blueprints minutes later.

Pull it together. I need to get my head checked. No one normal should be having this kind of physical reaction to fear.

"Oh it's coming," I say, hoping he finds the irony in my words.

"Do I need to check again?" Ah, so he does remember.