#would explain why she’d say she was a droid

[rowanthestrange]

Obviously the Master is a control freak, but I like this idea that he understands, certainly by Yaz’s speech at the end, that the difference between him and the Doctor, is that he doesn’t know how to make people love him. Which would definitely be how he’d see it. What are you doing? What inputs are you putting in to get that result? I want it. Give me it.

It really makes me wish we could have another ‘Doctor’ worth of character development in that sense (in the form of that Master, or just following the thread with a new one), because where it leads is very obvious, and pretty horrible, but also…heart-wrenching. And in its own way, perhaps progress. The Master works best as a foil, a counter view, a dark mirror of the Doctor rather than Evil™, and I think you need those little signs of light, even alternative light, like with Missy, for the character to remain interesting. The Master consciously learning the differences between manipulating someone so they love you, and doing kind things because you must be weak enough to love them to receive it…

And of course he doesn’t know how any of this works. Going with the Timeless Child(ren) base with the Boy On The Cliff and inferences, this is probably not a child who really received love, and who probably had that replaced with utility. If he was useful, achieving, doing big and incredible things - good. But nothing unconditional. And even the Doctor doesn’t provide that - he’s ‘loved’ if he’s doing what other people want. But he doesn’t want that, he wants to be his own Master, and if that means he can’t be loved, then he knows what is more important to him.

But it’s a desire I think he’s aware of. I wonder if in part it has any link to Dhawan!Master’s considerably increased flirty behaviour. A still acceptable viewing for a younger audience version of the classic ‘Sex=Love’ problem perhaps? And it’s something he seems to be at least peripherally aware of with his desire to ‘court’ Yaz into enjoying being with him. From calling her Yaz rather than Yasmin from the start and his greater focus on her in Spyfall, to that ‘Come on, can’t we just give it a go? Can’t you just play along?’ bit in the TARDIS.

I don’t know. But I hope next time we get the Master back, it’s to pick up this thread where we let off.

#power of the doctor #doctor who spoilers #did anything discount #dhawan->missy theory #because you could definitely have fun with that option too #oh and why she’s almost sweet on osgood #cosplay #but missy and clara certainly is unique #and if you see this as going simm-dhawan-missy #it gives it a certain smoothness of characterisations #and ultimate goals #missy wants her friend back #as welk as the clara thing #so i think it’s my preferred interpretation #imagine missy survived via cyberium #would explain why she’d say she was a droid #and go immediately to cybermen #if we don’t get a pick up on this thread from dhawan #i think you could bodge it with missy #and hey makes you feel better re the mental health crisis #(also if you like this i think my margarita sequel will hit for you)

[ghostofskywalker]

Lovesick Fools

Poe Dameron/Fem!Reader

Fictober Day 28 of 31

Words: 1,393

Summary: After deciding that she's had enough of Poe not admitting his feelings for you, Rey recruits BB-8 to help get the two of you to see what’s obvious to everyone else.

Poe Dameron Masterlist

“And then I set the entire building on fire,” Rey spoke nonchalantly as she stared intently at Poe, who was fiddling with some of the controls on his X-Wing and passively nodding every time she spoke. She was convinced that he hadn’t heard a word she had said for the past five minutes. If this were any other time, there wouldn’t be much harm and she’d simply talk to him when his brain was back on the ground, but she was in the middle of explaining a mission that the General had asked them to complete, and it was a pretty important assignment.

“Good for you,” he responded absentmindedly, proving her theory correct.

Shaking her head, Rey knew that there was one surefire way to get her friend’s attention, so she decided to pull out the big guns. “Y/N was telling me-”

She didn’t even get a chance to finish her sentence before Poe had begun to listen again. “What about Y/N?”

“Nothing, but you weren’t listening to a thing I was saying before, so I had to get your attention somehow. At this point I genuinely can’t believe that you are denying the fact that you’re in love with her, it’s so obvious.”

Poe rolled his eyes, an indignant expression crossing his face. He always wore this look when you were the topic of discussion, and no matter how much he tried to deny his feelings, Rey always knew that he was full of banthashit. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t have feelings for her? This is getting a bit ridiculous honestly.”

“You can keep saying it, but it won’t just magically make the statement true,” Rey said, shaking her head at him. “Now, are you going to listen to me about your next mission, or do I need to call the General down here to give the briefing herself, because she won’t be happy about it.”

“I was listening!” She just sighed in response to her friend’s defensive tone, not bothering to argue as she started to repeat the details of the mission.

After she left Poe to get ready for his mission, Rey couldn’t stop thinking about how ridiculous he was. It was clear to anyone with eyes that he was in love with you, so why couldn’t he admit those feelings? Maybe he thought that if he admitted how he felt to someone else, they would try to get the two of you together before he was ready?

But the joke is on him, Rey thought as she walked through the halls of the base. Because I’m going to try and get them together without him admitting his feelings.

BB-8 came rolling past her, no doubt heading to Poe before they left for their mission, and Rey was struck with an idea. She made a mental note to find BB-8 and talk to him once Poe had returned from this assignment, because if she wanted to really get you and Poe together, she was going to need some help.

***

You didn’t even need to check your schedule to see who your next patient would be, because BB-8’s cheerful beeps suddenly filled the room. Out of all the droids you helped service on the base, BB-8 was by far your favorite, and it almost didn’t have anything to do with your massive crush on his owner, Poe.

“Hey buddy!’ you said, laughing as the droid spun in circles around your legs. “Here for a checkup?”

BB-8 beeped in affirmation, and he allowed you to pick him up and place him on your worktable. This was a relatively routine thing for you to do, so you weren’t too worried about anything being wrong with his systems. Unlike most of the other droids on the base, who didn’t really have too many people watching out for them, if something was unusual about BB-8, Poe usually brought him in to see you.

Speaking of Poe, you were removing the piece of durasteel that covered BB-8’s control panel when you heard his voice. “Hey Y/N, have you seen…”

Clearly he was asking about BB-8, judging by the way his voice trailed off as he took a look at his droid sitting on your worktable. Upon seeing his owner, BB-8 beeped cheerfully, and you laughed. “He’s right here, don’t you worry.”

“Is everything okay with him?”

“Yep, just a routine maintenance appointment,” you said. “And so far, it doesn’t look like anything is wrong.”

But you very quickly realized that you had spoken too soon, because a shrill whistle filled the room, obviously coming from BB-8 himself.

“What the kriff is that?” Poe asked, eyes widening as he placed his hands over his ears.

You looked through every single panel you had touched previously, but nothing you had checked so far had the power to make that kind of noise, and it seemed that BB-8 was still generally conscious. “I don’t know!” you said worriedly.

You were desperately looking for a part on your table from another BB unit that you fixed recently, wondering if perhaps it could be something in another part of his body, and you heard BB-8 beep incessantly at Poe. While you could translate some of what the droids said on this base, you were in no way fluent with how every model communicated, so you didn’t quite understand what he was trying to say over the annoying whistle that still filled the room.

“No! I’m not going to do that now, it’s not the right time!” Clearly Poe could understand, and BB-8 was trying to get him to do something.

“Everything okay?” you asked. The beeping got louder, and you winced. “Clearly not.”

As you continued to check over BB-8 to see what could possibly be making this noise, you heard Poe start to speak again, but you couldn’t focus on what he was saying. BB-8 beeped back and forth with him though, so clearly he wasn’t talking to you.

The next time you looked up, Poe and his droid were full on arguing. “If you’re doing this on purpose-”

“Why would he be doing this on purpose?” you asked, re-attaching BB-8’s front panel to see if maybe there was some kind of security issue that could be fixed by putting him back together. It didn’t work.

“He wants me to ask you out,” right as Poe spoke, you saw a look of shock cross his face, as if he wasn’t supposed to say those words out loud. Before you could respond, the shrill whistling stopped, and BB-8 beeped happily before completely shutting down, leaving just you and Poe staring at each other in the now silent room.

You weren’t sure what to say, and you were honestly wondering whether or not his words were a trick of your mind after that incessant noise BB-8 was making. “What do you mean?” you asked. Maker, this was definitely not your finest moment.

“I really like you,” he said softly, and he walked over to you and gently took your hand. “And apparently my droid has decided that I need to make a move already and chose to ruin our eardrums until I admitted my feelings.”

You couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from your lips, and you squeezed his hand a little tighter. “I really like you too.”

Suddenly your faces were getting closer to one another’s, and Poe’s gaze flickered down to your lips. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice but a breathless whisper.

“You better,” you responded.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait too long for his lips to land on yours, but your moment was interrupted by BB-8 making joyful noises from your workstation.

“Oh, you woke up for that, huh?” Poe scolded his droid after he pulled away from you, his hands still on your waist, where they had came to rest during your kiss. You couldn’t help but laugh quietly at the expression on his face. “You’re a little menace, you know that?”

You couldn’t translate exactly what BB-8 said in response, but you could tell that if BB-8 had eyes, he would be rolling them right now. You weren’t too bothered by it, and you knew you’d have to find a way to thank the little droid later, when he wasn’t interrupting you and Poe.

- the end - 

#ghostofskywalker.fictober #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x female reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader

[reneeofthestars]

REMEMBER THE FALLEN

Summary:

After a harrowing battle, Captain Mark and the other clone leaders of Chimera Company celebrate and mourn their fallen brothers.

Originally written for the unpublished fanzine, We Were Here - @cloneoczine celebrating Clone Trooper OCs

Word Count: 4,229

Mark stood on the landing platform for several minutes after the Jedi speeder disappeared into the distant Coruscanti traffic.

The airspace around the clone trooper barracks was quiet. With civilian traffic restricted and the next closest clone regiment a good distance away, the noise and light pollution was severely diluted, leaving Mark feeling strangely isolated.

His arms hung heavy at his sides, as they’d been when Commander Tiatkin had hugged him tightly. He hadn’t embraced her back; not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t find the energy to raise his arms. It felt nice, though.

The Jedi had cried. Two years ago, Mark would have been appalled at the very idea of the all-powerful Jedi showing such emotion. But he understood now that Jedi were only mortal, and General Teyla Marin and Commander Gida Tiatkin were held very dearly by the clones of Chimera Company. It meant more to Mark than he could say that the two women had spent the entire day in the barracks, mourning with the troopers.

Their last battle had devolved into a nightmare.

Mark felt no ill-will towards the Jedi; they had done everything they could to counter the Separatist army, but Chimera Company had been outnumbered and outmaneuvered. The mission had been straightforward: Chimera Company was sent to wipe out a Separatist outpost on the jungle world of Akiva, and bring the planet under Republic protection.

He passed a hand over his face, scratching at his beard. The intel had been wrong. So very, very wrong.

They’d gone in prepared to assault a base. What they found instead was a battle droid factory, deep in the catacombs beneath the planet’s surface, churning out droid after droid after droid. It wasn’t the first time their intel had been bad, but never this bad.

The entirety of Tazer Squad sacrificed themselves to sabotage the factory. Though Mark hadn’t been able to get confirmation, and wanted to believe that they’d survived, the fact remained that he had last seen them swarmed by droids, falling beneath skeletons of steel. And somehow… he just knew they were gone.

General Marin said it was his Force-sensitivity. She’d carefully broached the subject a few months ago, and she and Commander Tiatkin had been… not necessarily training him, but teaching him about this bizarre connection he had. He hadn’t believed them at first; only Jedi could use the Force. But once he stopped resisting the idea, and opened himself to the possibility…

While he was still uneasy about the whole thing, Mark was learning that he could use the Force. He felt the ebb and flow of energy when the Jedi meditated with him, and could move small objects across the table. It came through most clearly during combat, when he wasn’t trying to use it at all. He noticed it first in the uncanny accuracy of his shooting, then in his reaction time. And it finally explained the connection he felt with the other clones, on a level he couldn’t describe. He could sense their feelings, could tell when they were lying, could know their intentions. Mark had always known those things, but now he understood why.

And it was that why that forced him to face that every member of Tazer Squad was dead. He just knew.

He said their names out loud. The dark night of Coruscant might not care, but he did.

“Boots. Amari. Hatchet. Garrett. Lorn. Mouse. Targon. Mechi. Shave. Nath.”

Tazer Squad weren’t the only deaths.

General Marin called for the evacuation, but Separatist ships had lurked unseen in the shadow of nearby world Malrev IV and delayed the assistance of the Zenith of the Republic, leaving Chimera Company stranded planet-side with droids pouring from the catacombs, surrounding the Republic forces in a valley.

“Mixer. Shorty. Gangle. Anchor. Ralphie. Buzz. Kory. Sunspot.”

The droids kept coming. Brothers fell around him. Explosions rocked the world.

“Avery. Karn. Arial. Carbine. Brink. Gale. Twister.”

It was only thanks to a Republic-aligned local militia that Chimera Company wasn’t completely wiped out. Ground forces came in from behind the droids and cut a path for Mark and the others to escape through, and provided cover while they fought to get to an elevation that the transport ships could access. Meanwhile, the militia sent their limited fighters and gunships to aid the Zenith in keeping the Separatist ships at bay.

“Hazel. Mac. Croaker. Cred. Vent. Hinter. Gossip.”

Nearly everyone was injured. Blaster burns, broken bones, cuts, concussions, contusions. Mark himself suffered a blaster bolt to his chest, reaggravating an old wound. Commander Tiatkin got caught at the edge of an explosion and had been flung across the valley, landing unconscious. General Marin collapsed from exhaustion as soon as the Zenith jumped to hyperspace.

A week later, most of the clones had recovered, though a handful remained in critical care. Marin and Taitkin arrived at the barracks as soon as they were released from the Jedi Temple’s med center. And together, they all mourned. And laughed, which Mark hadn’t been expecting. But the Jedi had begun reminiscing about those who had been lost, and before long there was laughter and smiles. Sorrow still tinged it all, but it was easier to bear.

Mark drew a deep breath, trying to center himself. To feel himself here and now, boots on the landing pad, rooted to the world, to the galaxy. Constant and present like the cities of Kamino, stalwart and unyielding to the tempests around it. That had been an argument between General Marin and Mark, in the beginning of his not-training. She had described her mediations as floating in a void, tethers to all other beings keeping her in place. But Mark didn’t feel that. He couldn’t let himself feel weightless, drifting; he needed to be grounded, sure of himself before he reached out to others.

It was several minutes before Mark finally made his way back indoors. He lost track of how many times he clasped a trooper’s shoulder or hand, how many more he nodded to.

By the time he got to the officer’s quarters, he wanted nothing more than to collapse onto his bunk. But as the door slid open, he realized that wasn’t going to be the case.

The four lieutenants of Chimera Company were gathered in the center of the room, having hauled over chairs around a supply crate; a jug full of liquid sat on the crate, surrounded by five cups. Mark made his way to the empty chair, shucking his armor as he went. He let the purple-painted armor clatter to the ground, for once not caring about packing it away properly.

He accepted a cup proffered by Bookie before collapsing into the chair. “Hal, how’s your leg?”

Hal – fresh out of the med bay– grunted and extended his right leg gingerly out in front of him. “Stiff, but the bone’s mended. I can walk on it.” He waved a hand. “And Cleese’s got his hearing back.”

“What?” Cleese asked loudly, the scar across the bridge of his nose crinkling as he failed to keep from smirking.

Tech rolled his eyes and shoved Cleese’s shoulder. “What about you, Captain?”

“Stings a bit,” Mark admitted, a hand going absently to his chest, “but that’s the last time you’ll hear me say it.” The faintly caustic smell emanating from the purple liquid in his cup signified Christophsis tals – potent, crystal-cured alcohol. There had been toasts and honorifics all day, but one more could do no harm. He raised his glass. “To those who rest, and those who live. Vode An – brothers all.”

“Brothers all,” the other for echoed. They drank deeply; Mark’s eyes watered.

After a while of listening to the shuffle of footsteps out in the hall and the hum of power through the barracks, Bookie leaned forward, a loc of purple-dyed hair falling into his apprehensive eyes. “Captain? When are we due back to the front?”

Mark drained his cup and refilled it, keeping his eyes fixed on the sloshing liquid. His tongue tingled from it, but it would be another cup or two before he really started to feel its effects. It had been a while since he’d been properly drunk.

“Mark?”

“The Republic wants us mission-ready in two days.”

Cleese uttered a low curse, but Tech talked over him. “And the Jedi?”

“Marin said the Jedi Council agreed to not assign anything for seven days. She’s going to push for longer, but I think that’s all we’re going to get.”

A muscle jumped in Hal’s neck, right under the black ink of the Republic tattoo there. “A week is fine. Any longer, we’d all go stir-crazy. Don’t know about the rest of you, but I need action – I can’t just hang out at Seventy-Nine’s indefinitely.”

“How –” Bookie faltered, then pressed on. “How long did it take you to move on before? With… with your original company?”

Hal turned a baleful look on him. “It’s not a matter of ‘moving on’. It’s about not being stuck.” He drummed his fingers on the crate. “I was in the med bay for a week after the attack. Shattered my collar bone and a few ribs. It was all volunteer medics – no clones – and they wouldn’t tell me anything. That should’ve been my first clue something was wrong. They dunked me in some bacta, then kept me cooped up til I thought I was gonna short-circuit. By the time they let me out, I was ready to kill something.”

He paused, his focus drifting. “Went to join up with the boys – but found out I was reassigned cuz everyone else was dead. I was on the field the next day. It helped, being able to focus on the missions. But if I’d just… if I’d waited just a moment during the attack, I might’ve been able to grab a few others.”

Cleese frowned. “What d’you mean?”

“The clankers hit our outpost with an orbital bombardment. I only survived because I was able to make it to a reinforced bunker. There were three clones right behind me when we started running. But when I reached the bunker and turned around to pull them in, they were two dozen feet behind me. And a blast came down right on top of them. I couldn’t have outrun them that quick; maybe they got tripped up by something. But if I’d slowed up, realized I got ahead of them – ” he broke off and glowered at his cup.

The guilt rolled off Hal in waves. It was a pain shared by all the clones of Chimera Company; they were all survivors from other companies and squads that no longer existed.

“This is a day for remembering our brothers.” Mark raised his glass. “To Zeta Company.”

Hal’s harsh expression faltered and he ducked his head to hide his tears as the others repeated the salute.

Bookie spoke up; Mark felt his embarrassment at having prodded Hal. “We were fractured at Ryloth. We weren’t expecting the Separatist interest in the planet, and they hit us with more forces than we ever expected. It was a slaughter. Two of our squads survived the initial battle, and we hid in the canyons while we waited for reinforcements. But the droids chased us down.” Bookie averted his gaze, unable to make eye contact. “I was able to duck down quick enough after taking potshots – I dodged the bolts that came my way. But most of the others couldn’t. Only six of us walked away. They reassigned us to another force on Ryloth three days later. I think I would have liked to have some more time to process everything; I feel like I had to move on too fast.” He took a swig of the tal. “The Fifty-Eighth Battalion.”

They toasted; Mark took a smaller sip, a pleasantly warm buzz already at the edges of this consciousness. He had wondered when they’d have this conversation. Chimera Company had been formed almost two and a half years ago, and though they had all strengthened their bonds over that time, they’d never discussed where they’d come from, what they had experienced. Mark knew the stories of the rest of the company, but he’d hadn’t pressed the lieutenants; the weight of living while those under your command had died was a harder burden to bear.

After a stretch of silence, Tech turned his head away. “We didn’t even fall to the Separatists.” The bitterness in his voice made Mark’s gut twist. “There was a distress beacon out in the middle of nowhere. The General and the Captain argued about it, but the Jedi finally ordered the ship to go and offer assistance.”

“And there was nothing there?” Hal asked.

“Oh, there was. A civilian cruise ship, dead in the void. We boarded to search for survivors. Once we were all split up, the pirates made their move. They’d been lying in wait onboard, and picked us off as we went through the halls, and their ships dropped out of hyperspace and took out our capital ship.”

“How’d you get out?” Bookie asked, refilling Tech’s cup.

“A small group of us were in the lower levels of the ship. I could tell when they were nearby – I think I could hear them, or whatever – so we were able to sneak around them, for the most part. We managed to steal one of their smaller ships and get away. No one else survived.” He tapped his cup thoughtfully. “I was reassigned the next day, after we were debriefed. Didn’t really have time to process what happened. I just tried to fit in with the new group.”

“To the Two-Oh-Third,” Mark intoned.

After they drank, they looked to Cleese. 

He scowled. “What?”

“What about you?”

Cleese’s lip curled. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Mark set his cup down. “You’ll need to eventually,” he murmured softly.

Cleese’s head snapped toward him. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’ve been carrying around the weight of it since you lost your company. I don’t think you’ve ever let yourself mourn.”

“There’s always more brothers to mourn,” Cleese snarled. “More dead, every day – it’s a miracle that Chimera Company hasn’t suffered major losses like this before. There’s always dead brothers that need remembering, but there’s no time for it – we have to keep moving, we have to keep marching on, to win this war, so they didn’t die for nothing.”

For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the barracks’ generators. “I read the official report,” Mark said carefully. “That Haval Company responded to a distress call at Garentti’s Keep and gave the civilians enough time to evacuate the city and escape into hyperspace. You saved over two thousand people.”

“And I lost one-hundred thirty-seven men!” Cleese launched himself onto his feet, hands clenched at his sides. “One-hundred thirty-seven brothers who were depending on me to get them out alive. And they died. I only focused on the tanks and ships attacking from the north, I didn’t think to look out for anything else. A whole squad of commando droids crawled out from the cliffs to the south. Only reason I lived was ‘cause I felt one of the karking things sneak up behind me. They took us out from behind, and the clankers overran us.”

“You had no way of knowing. You did what you could with what you had.”

“And what about you, Mark?” Cleese was suddenly in Mark’s face. Anger radiated from him, washing over Mark in such a tangible way that he almost toppled off his seat. “Have you talked about losing the Eighty-Second? Only twelve of you survived, right? You lost an entire battalion. You gonna act like you’ve gotten over that? That you’re gonna get over this?”

He may have said more, but a high-pitched ringing in Mark’s ear drowned him out. Mark’s blood boiled and heart hammered, aching beneath the blaster burn scar. Brothers could fight, could say things and apologize later. A captain couldn’t.

Mark ground his teeth together as he slowly stood. Cleese filled his vision, shaking and blinking hard. Mark hadn’t gone over managing his emotions with the Jedi yet. Marin said it was because he already had control over it, that she wasn’t worried he would act out of anger. He wasn’t about to start now.

“Of course I never got over it.” Mark kept his voice low and even. “I did what I could, and it wasn’t enough. After that slaughter on Eadu’s moon, I blamed General Thalen, I blamed the Separatists, I blamed myself – I even blamed the ones who died. But the end result was the same. The men under my command were dead, and I wasn’t able to help them. It was out of my control. That doesn’t make the pain go away. Or the guilt. But when I was given command of Chimera Company, I had to pull myself out of my own misery, because others were depending on me.”

He paused and drew a shaky breath. The others were silent, waiting. Drawing on the Force, he grounded himself. And as he did, he felt his connection to them like a heartstring. He softened his voice.

“And this? No, I’m not going to move on very quickly. It’s easier, sure, because more of us survived, and I know that we’ll remain together. But what eases more of the pain for me is this.” He gestured to the assembled lieutenants. “Being together. Remembering together. The twelve of us from the Eighty-Second, we got four days. And all were hazy to me but the last one. Because the night before reassignment, we all met up in the mess and talked about the ones we’d lost. Just like we did today. For me, it doesn’t matter how many days it’s been – or how many years. The pain is still there. But it’s easier to bear when I’m with others who understand it.”

Cleese’s anger had melted into sorrow, and he didn’t say anything; he just sank back to his seat, head in his hands. Mark clapped a hand onto his shoulder, and raised his cup. “To Havel Company. And to the Eighty-Second.”

“I’m sorry, Mark,” Cleese murmured after he drained his glass.

Mark sat down heavily beside him. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

The other man smiled ruefully at the rapidly-emptying pitcher. “As far as gatherings go, I much prefer happier ones. One of the Haval Company squads learned from some local children about birthdays. The kids didn’t like that none of us clones exactly have a ‘birth-day’. So they decided that all clones were born on that day, and somehow convinced their parents to throw the entire Company a birthday party.” Though it was undercut by a dry sob, Cleese laughed. “I’ve never had such sweet desserts, before or since. That cake was way too rich, and we ate way too much of it.”

“Oh, cake will get you in trouble!” Bookie jumped in, his eyes suddenly bright. “Charger almost got married because of cake once.”

“Married? But we’re not allowed to marry until retirement.” Tech cocked his head to the side, frowning. “Unless that’s changed?”

“It’s still the same. It was an accident. We were on a backwater world where Basic wasn’t well-spoken. One of the locals offered him a cake – in a real meaningful way – but Charger just thought he was being friendly. The translator saw what was going on and managed to set it straight.”

Tech shook his head with a smile. “The long-necks really should have taught us to speak more than just Basic. I think I’d like to understand Huttese – it seems useful.”

“You had any communication mix-ups?” Cleese asked. Mark was relieved to see he’d relaxed.

“All the time. The boys always had trouble in the Outer-Rim markets.” Seeming to jump from one memory to another, he went on. “I was just thinking of the time a shiny – he didn’t live long enough to get a name…” Tech faltered, then gave a weak smile. “This shiny started trash-talking me to my face. Since I’ve always been pretty regulation, he thought I was a shiny from another unit. Didn’t realize I was the squad leader.”

Mark laughed. “What did he say?”

“He was complaining about the drills I was running them through. Thought I was treating them like cadets. He didn’t expect me to be going through the paces with them.”

“Shinies always have such big heads in the beginning.” Hal settled back, throwing an arm over the back of his chair. “Sometimes those heads never deflate. I had a kid in Zeta Co that crashed everything he ever piloted. Fighters, AT-RTs, speeders – if it had a control yoke, he’d end up walking away from a flaming heap of debris with a smile on his face. We called him Crash after the second time.”

After another drink, Cleese turned his watery gaze toward Mark. “I’d asked you when we first met, Mark, but I don’t think you ever actually answered me. The strike team you led on Brentaal Four. Did you really use a B-One’s faceplate to tunnel under a Separatist compound?”

He hadn’t thought of that mission in ages. “We didn’t just use a droid’s faceplate. But some of our tools had to be left behind when we had a complication with landing, so it was the next best thing available.”

“And that worked?” Bookie said incredulously.

“Droids never considered that we’d try to dig our way through. Besides, they were preoccupied with a diversionary force in orbit. If I hadn’t been so concerned about rules at the time, I would’ve let the men keep it as a trophy. It was probably the most useful thing the droid had ever done.”

Cleese slapped his leg as he laughed, tal sloshing out of his cup as he did. “Ah, damn.” He reached for a rag on a trunk behind him, still focused on the dripping liquid. The rag was about a foot away, but before Mark could get up to grab it for him – it moved.

Mark froze, watching as the rag twitched, then slid right into Cleese’s fumbling hand.

He stared at the other man, but Cleese didn’t seem to notice; he was focused on mopping up the mess, saying that at least he hadn’t hit the pitcher.

The Force. Cleese had just used the Force. Mark knew it. But how?

“You okay, Mark?” Bookie asked. Bookie, who had been able to dodge blaster bolts, moving just before they could hit him. Mark slowly looked around the circle.

Hal, who had found himself moving with unprecedented speed. Tech, who had sensed when pirates were nearby. And Cleese, who had sensed danger behind him, who had just moved a rag without touching it.

But then other instances started coming to the forefront of his memory: a clone who always caught whatever was thrown at him, even when he wasn’t looking; a squad jumping much further than they should have been able to over a crevasse; a clone that every animal seemed to become docile around; and every time someone had muttered that they had a bad feeling just before something went wrong.

They piled up, instance after instance of clones in Chimera Company that were just a bit faster or stronger, a bit more agile or focused, a bit luckier or more aware, a bit more –

Seas. They’re all Force-sensitive.

“Mark?” Bookie repeated, concern creasing his brow. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Mark croaked, blinking rapidly. His heart thudded in his chest, his mind racing. “Yeah, I just – It’s been a day.” He stood, the alcohol rushing to his head and making him teeter for a moment. No, it wasn’t just the tal; it was the adrenaline that suddenly coursed through his veins, the energy that came with suddenly knowing something vital and not knowing what to do with it. “I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.”

The others made to rise, but Mark waved them down. “Don’t let me interrupt this. Stay up as long as you need. And remember – this doesn’t have to be limited to today. We can mourn and remember as long as we need.”

The others called out their good nights as he gathered his armor and made his way to the far end of the officers’ quarters. A door led to his private bunk, and when it slid shut behind him he stood there, arms shaking as he put his armor away.  

Force-sensitive. Was that how they’d all survived? The remnants of companies and battalions that made up Chimera Company, had they all lived because of the Force? Because they subconsciously tapped into an energy that they didn’t know about, and enhanced their skills, like he had?

Did it matter?

Before General Marin had started teaching him about the Force, Mark would have said no, it didn’t matter; the troopers had their abilities and advantages, and it didn’t matter where they came from.

But a company of trained, Force-sensitive clones? They would be a force to be reckoned with.

But would the Jedi see it that way? Would the Republic?

Mark sat on the edge of his bunk, elbows on his knees as he stared at his armor. He’d need to talk to Marin about it. He trusted her. Hopefully, she’d have an idea of how to proceed.

#star wars #fanfic #star wars fanfic #star wars fic #fanfiction #clone troopers #clone trooper fic #writing #renee's writing #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #tcw #sw tcw #clone trooper oc #force sensitive clones #death mention #war mention #fiction friday #we were here #we were here zine #clone oc #clone oc zine

[dangraccoon]

The Courtesan

The Bad Batch x Original Character

Summary: The Bad Batch is sent on a mission to rescue a VIP, and they quickly discover her profession and why she’s such an important asset.

Warnings: Firefly Companion-ish escapades shall ensue; 18+ MINORS DNI - BEGONE CHILDREN; smutty smut smut (future chapters)

Mina was grateful for the help, even if she didn’t really need it.

“Miss, get down,” Hunter called, firing a few rounds at the separatist droids.

“I am fine,” she replied, removing the small blaster from the holster secured to her thigh, and hitting 5 or 6 droids with only three shots.

Hunter watched the woman, bewildered.

Wrecker, finally back from freeing Crosshair, plowed through the droid platoon, clearing the way for an escape.

Hunter, Wrecker, Crosshair, and Mina loaded onto the Marauder, where Echo provided cover fire.

Once they were safely out of the atmosphere and making the jump to hyperspace, the group finally started to relax.

“Are you injured Miss Menall?” Tech asked.

“I may have a few bruises, but all in all I’m unharmed, thanks to you all,” she said, looking at each member of the Bad Batch, smiling gratefully.

“Jus’ doin’ our job,” laughed Wrecker.

“You were pretty handy with a blaster back there; if you don’t mind my asking, how did you learn?” Hunter inquired.

“It’s part of the curriculum at the academy,” she stated simply.

“Which academy?” Tech probed.

A look of slight confusion crossed Mina’s face. “Did they not tell you anything about me?”

“They don’t usually,” explained Echo.

“I’m a Courtesan,” she said, but was met by four very confused faces and one uncomfortable one.

“What’s a courtesan?” Wrecker asked.

“Don’t worry, big guy, Tech here can explain it to you,” she grinned, placing a delicate hand on Tech’s chest, causing a deep blush to creep up his neck and a pair of very wide eyes to shift uncomfortably behind the lenses of his goggles.

Satisfied with her teasing, Mina excused herself to the refresher, leaving the four men to stare at their brother curiously.

—————

Mina wasn’t sure what she found more amusing, the way each member of the group would blush and stutter when speaking to her or when she found one of them to be staring when they thought she wasn’t looking. Either way, she was having the time of her life.

Each clone had his own interesting way of interacting with her.

The typically talkative Tech would often opt to say nothing at all, only addressing her if absolutely necessary.

Echo had trouble making eye contact when speaking with her, usually finding his scomp link to be very interesting.

Wrecker would always have some question about anything but her job, and if it ever came up he would chuckle shyly before looking away.

Hunter would typically avoid being in the same room as her, usually finding something to do on the opposite end of the ship.

Crosshair, well, he was different. He would openly ask questions about her occupation, discussing clientele and the services she provided, much to the discomfort of his brothers. He always had a smirk across his face, hoping to catch her off guard or make her uncomfortable. Whenever he found that he couldn’t - at least, not about this - he would go off somewhere to sulk.

It had been about two days into their journey and as amusing as the group’s reactions to her had been, she was starting to get bored. With another week to go, she’d have to find some way to entertain herself.

Perhaps she’ll go and bother Hunter, see if she could get him to stay in the same room as her.

—————

“Sergeant,” Mina purred as the clone was about to leave, muttering something about checking in with Tech.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I’d like to discuss something with you, if you have a few moments to spare for me,” she smiled warmly.

He stared at the ground for a few moments, before finally answering. “Yes, ma’am, of course.”

He sat down near her in the ship’s small galley, opting to look at the table instead of her. Mina’s scent was overwhelming; she only used a minuscule amount of perfume, the sweet floral fragrances mixing with her natural warm, earthy scent. It was overwhelming in the best way possible. It felt like it took hold of his brain, pulling him into her like a grappling hook, begging him to take in more.

Having a smart, beautiful, skilled, and sexy woman pulling at his every sense and being in command with a job to do and his brothers to care for - it didn’t mix well, so he often found himself looking anywhere else in the ship for reprieve. But now there was no escape for him. She practically had him cornered, smiling like a tooka who caught a rat.

“What can I do for you Miss Menall?” he asked, doing his best not to fidget.

“You see, darling,” she sighed, the tone and term of endearment sending a chill straight down his spine. “I find myself with a lot of time to think, and I’d like to thank you and your squad for rescuing me.”

She placed a hand lightly on his arm and despite his armor, he felt a jolt of electricity spark between them.

“That’s…very kind of you, ma’am, but unnecessary. We’re just doing our job.” He spoke carefully, doing his best not to show the flurry of emotions that had sent his heart racing.

“Please, Sergeant,” she pleaded, her bottom lip popped out ever so slightly. “There must be something I can do for you all, perhaps some frustration I can relieve?”

His ability to resist her was growing weak. “Maybe you should ask the boys? See if there’s anything -ahem- they’d be…interested in,” Hunter suggested. He knew he’d get harassed by his brothers about this later, but he needed to get out of this situation as soon as possible; his ability to think straight was definitely compromised.

“A wonderful idea,” she hummed. “I think I’ll talk with…”

To whom shall Mina speak?

(coming soon)

Hunter

Wrecker

Tech

Echo

Crosshair

Thanks for reading! - Dang

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#fanfiction #tech tbb #the bad batch #crosshair tbb #echo tbb #hunter tbb #wrecker tbb #bad batch #bad batch fanfic #oc tbb #original character #Mina Menall #the courtesan #dangwriting

[all-the-things-2020]

Deeds Not Less Valiant - Chapter 3

Pairing: Din Djarin x OFC (Tala Pavan)

Rating : PG

Summary: A small celebration takes a turn for the worse.

Word count: 2100+

Tala’s life fell into a new routine. Every Taungsday, she ran all her errands and completed as many chores as possible, so she had Benduday open for Din and Grogu. Even Neeli looked forward to their weekly visit; she began sitting alertly near the door about ten minutes before their arrival. Din was very punctual, and on the rare occasions he was late, he apologized profusely.

Grogu was a delight. He played with Neeli, listened to stories and told Tala about his week. She gathered scraps of information about both of them. They knew other Mandalorians, some of whom removed their helmets in front of others, and some who didn’t. There was a man in Mandalorian armor who kept a pet rancor; a woman who fixed ships and had lots of droids; people who rode banthas and communicated through hand signs and strange vocalizations. He also fondly remembered a place with blue ponds and lots of children and frogs to chase, and an Ugnaught with several tame blurrgs. 

Din was much more reticent. Tala quickly learned that he was not much of a conversationalist. She gave up asking him how his week had been (“Good” was the most common reply, although once there had been a sight followed by the single word “Long”) and simply told him about Grogu’s visit and what he’d told her. Din was eager for any insight into his son’s mind.

“He seems pretty articulate for a youngling,” he told her once, after she’d relayed a memory of a training session with targets and a paintball gun. 

“Mentally, he is,” she agreed. “About like a four or five year old human. I just don’t think his vocal tract has caught up yet. It’s possible everyone in his species is telepathic and they just don’t need to develop spoken language as early as others. He’s getting better, but I sense he’s frustrated when he can’t make the sounds he wants to.”

Din nodded, and so did Grogu. “Ya,” he said. 

Once or twice, Tala broached the subject of lunch again, but Din gently refused. “I have food at home,” he’d said one day, which had prompted Grogu to chime in :Yucky food. Ration bars.:

“Grogu says you eat ration bars a lot,” she said carefully. “Wouldn’t you like a freshly prepared meal for a change?”

Din shrugged. “Food is food,” he said. “I like things that are quick to eat, so I don’t have to leave him by himself very long.” He paused, his posture stiffening. “I … have to be alone when I remove my helmet to eat.”

Tala nodded. “I understand. But if you ever want something a little more elaborate …”

:Tasty: Grogu added, which almost made her laugh. “I could always take Grogu outside while you eat. We could sit underneath the window.”

:I want to do that! Dad! Let’s do that!:

Din shook his head slowly. “I appreciate the offer, but we wouldn’t want to impose on you any more than we already do.” Grogu’s ears drooped and Din laid a gloved hand on his head. “Besides, we always do some training after my meeting with Greef. Younglings need routine and structure. And this youngling needs lots of training if he wants to progress from a paint gun to a real blaster.”

That perked up Grogu’s ears. :A blaster! Pew! Pew! Pew!: 

“Weapons really are part of your religion, aren’t they?” Tala asked.

“This is the Way,” Din said, picking up Grogu. “We’ll see you next week.”

****************************************************

Din silently cursed himself for being so awkward. Why was it so hard to talk to Tala? Small talk had never been his strong point, but it seemed like the only thing they could talk about with ease was Grogu. The kid was fascinating, but he was sure Tala would enjoy talking about other things. She was curious about his culture, but he didn’t know how to explain The Way to someone who wasn’t a Mandalorian. What seemed logical and right to him might sound strange to an outsider. Even Mandalorians like Bo-Katan and Axe had a hard time with some of the beliefs he and the Armorer and the others in their covert held.

Greef had made a few comments about Din’s new “lady friend,” which he had gently rebuffed. In truth, she was more Grogu’s friend than his. And definitely just a friend. Greef’s offers of wine and fancy candies to woo her were entirely out of place. 

“What do you think, kid?”

Grogu made a questioning sound. “You think I should spend more time with Tala?”

“Ya!” Grogu babbled something else, accompanied by animated hand motions. 

“Maybe … maybe next time I’ll buy something for lunch in the market after my meeting with Greef. The two of you can eat and we’ll talk. Then I can have the leftovers when I get home.” There was a stall that sold grilled meat and vegetables on a stick, and another that sold freshly baked flatbreads. Both things were quickly and easily eaten, and could be eaten cold or reheated in the nanowave. 

Grogu nodded emphatically, his ears high and eyes animated. Din was very good at reading the child’s body language. “And maybe we can find something around the cabin to make a toy for the tooka. You like playing with it, don’t you?”

“Nee,” Grogu said solemnly. “Nee-lee.”

Din stopped in his tracks. “You … you said the tooka’s name. Neeli.”

“Nee-lee,” Grogu repeated with a nod. 

“Can you say Din?”

“Da!”

“Tala?”

“Ta-wa.”

“Greef?”

“Geef.”

Din felt a tightness in his throat. “That’s great, kid. You’re getting better every day.”

“Ya,” Grogu said. “Ta-wa. Da.” He pressed his tiny hand together. 

“Tala and I are helping you?”

“Ya.”

Din nodded. “Then we should celebrate. Next week, a little party.” He bit at his lower lip. He had the menu figured out, and Grogu’s vocal progress as a reason. Now he just had to come up with something to talk about that wasn’t Grogu or guns. 

*******************************************

“Don’t eat lunch,” Din said when he dropped Grogu off the next Benduday. “Grogu will tell you all about it, but we’re having a little celebration after my meeting. I’ll bring food.”

He was gone before Tala could even say a word. She looked at Grogu, who was pulling a small object out of his pocket. :For Neeli!: It was a rubber ball, scuffed and battered but still bright blue. The tooka pricked her ears and locked her eyes on the ball.

“Thank you,” Tala said. “She‘ll love it.”  

Grogu tossed the ball and Neeli pounced after it. Grogu giggled. :Funny.: He tilted his head and looked coyly at Tala. :Dad has a surprise. I can say things a little bit. He’s bringing lunch.:

“You can say things?”

Neeli brought the ball back to Grogu and dropped it at his feet. He picked it up and tossed it again. “Nee-lee,” he said. “Ha!”

“What else can you say?”

“Da. Ta-wa. Geef. Ya. Na. Eee.”

“Eee?”

:Eat: he clarified. :Very important word.:

Tala nodded solemnly. “A very important word, indeed.”

*****************************

When Din arrived, Neeli shot up to her basket. Although she was always eager to see Grogu, she was still wary of Din. “He won’t hurt you,” Tala told the tooka.

:Dad likes animals: Grogu agreed.

“I brought food,” Din announced needlessly. The aroma of grilled meat and vegetables filled the room, causing Grogu to bounce around in glee.

:Lunch! I haven’t eated in forever.:

:Eaten: Tala gently corrected. Grogu’s ears drooped at the tips but he quickly forgot about it when Din placed a bag of freshly baked flatbreads on the table. 

“You and Grogu go ahead and eat,” Din said. “I’ll take my share home and eat it later.”

“Are you sure? I can take him outside …”

Din shook his head. “The cat.”

Tala was puzzled. “Neeli?”

Din sat straighter. “My oath is to not let my face be seen by any living thing. Neeli is a living thing.”

:Droids don’t count: Grogu said, while surreptitiously reaching for some bread.

“Grogu just said ‘droids don’t count’ but how is that different from a tooka cat? Droids are sentient.” 

Din sighed. “A technicality,” he said. “And I didn’t think you knew about that, kid.”

Grogu shrugged, his mouth full of bread. :I hear things:

Tala stifled a laugh. “He said he hears things,” she said mildly, putting a plate and napkin in front of the child. 

“I forget that he’s over fifty years old,” Din said. “His brain is more developed than his body.”

Tala nodded as she helped herself to a skewer and bread. Din carefully slid meat and vegetables onto Grogu’s plate and used a very wicked looking knife to cut everything up into manageable pieces. “But he needs to work on impulse control,” she said as Grogu reached for a piece of meat and nearly got his fingertips sliced off. “Wait until he’s done, kiddo. That knife looks serious.”

“Pffft,” said Grogu, cramming a slice of onion into his mouth.

“He’s used to weapons,” Din said. “He knows how to be safe around them. That’s one of the first things an apprentice learns.”

Tala doubted the wisdom of letting a youngling like Grogu have access to weapons, but she wasn’t about to say anything. This was Din’s religion, and Grogu’s as well, and she had no place criticizing his decisions. 

As they ate, Neeli began sniffing the air and soon jumped down from her perch and started to creep closer. Din casually slid a piece of meat off one of the skewers, sliced it up and dropped a piece onto the floor near his boot. Neeli startled for a moment, then slowly moved forward to snatch up the meat. She retreated a few steps and gobbled it down. She was less reluctant about the next piece, and by the fourth one, she was taking the meat from Din’s gloved hand.

“Grogu was right. You do like animals,” Tala said. 

“I understand them,” Din said simply. Neeli chirped, demanding another piece of meat, and Din obliged. 

“She’ll be in your lap purring in no time,” Tala said. “Have you thought about getting a pet for Grogu?”

:Yes! Tell him a pet is good.:

Din shook his head. “I don’t have time for a pet. Too much travel.” Grogu’s ears drooped a little. “But maybe someday, if things settle down more.” The ears went back up. 

Grogu and Neeli continued to eat as Din cut up meat for them. He was so good with them, patient but firm, insisting they take turns, which did not go down as well with Neeli as it did with Grogu. Still, Tala was amazed at how well the tooka obeyed him, quickly learning that hissing or trying to steal from Grogu earned what Tala would have called a “Look” if only Din’s face hadn’t been concealed behind his helmet.

I wonder what he looks like under there, she thought idly. And Grogu, always obliging, showed her.

Dark hair, a strong nose, neatly trimmed mustache and a hint of beard, and deep brown eyes so full of sorrow … she couldn’t help herself. She gasped at the force of the pain and sadness that overwhelmed her. 

“What is it?” Din was immediately on the alert. Grogu’s ears drooped and the food in his hand was forgotten, dropped to the floor where Neeli pounced on it.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know he heard me.”

“What. Is. It?” Din’s voice was firm but kind. He was already reaching for his blaster, his helmet swiveling around as he went into high alert. 

Grogu hopped onto the table and ran to her. :Sorry. Don’t be sad.:

She scooped him up and steadied herself, blinking back tears. The emotion had been so powerful, so real. “I … I was just wondering what you looked like, under the helmet, and I didn’t realize my shields were down. Grogu heard me and … I’m so, so sorry, but he showed me your face. You just — you looked so sad, so heartbroken — maybe it was Grogu’s emotions overlying the image but I felt it.”

Din froze. Neeli cautiously backed away, her prize dangling from her teeth. Grogu’s ears went flat and he grabbed hold of Tala’s thumb, squeezing it tightly. After a long moment, Din stood. “Come on, kid, we have to go.” 

Grogu whimpered, but went to him. Din tucked the child carefully into his carry bag, then strode toward the door. “I’ll — we’ll see you later,” he said curtly as left. And then Tala and Neeli were alone. 

#the mandalorian #star wars #pedro pascal #baby yoda #cats #grogu #fanfic #din djarin #din djarin x original female character #tooka cat

[carolinetano7567]

Chapter II

(of Long Roads on Short Days)

Warnings: a tad of violence. Nothing too major :3

“Good, because I’m lost.” Gregor scratched the back of his head. “You two know each other?” He pointed at Rex, and his finger drifted towards Calypso as he spoke. 

“A long time ago, Rex was assigned with a legion of troops to my planet, Jedha. The Sepratists would have destroyed the Jedi Temples there if Rex had not come.” Calypso explained, still a bit in shock. It explained the odd resurfaced memory. 

“Ahhhh.” Gregor nodded. “I see.” 

“I was young and reckless.” Rex shook his head slightly. “A shiny; fresh off the line.” 

“You were still brave, nonetheless.” Calypso credited. Gregor opened his mouth to say something, but was met by the sounds of chatting Imperial Troops. Calypso hid her saber, and crept back down underneath the window. Gregor and Rex pressed themselves to the wall. Calypso held her breath as she could feel the rumble of their collective steps marching right in front of her hiding place. Only now was she thankful for the immense darkness shielding her from the eyes of the enemy. She felt a hand rest on her should from within the shadows, and begin to pull her deeper into it. Her eyes widened, and her skin prickled with goosebumps feeling the warmth of the hand. She could not tell if it was Gregor or Rex. She was lead silently on her hands and knees behind him, and saw that they were approaching a broken down wall that opened to a narrow, empty street washed in the moonlight. She was still skeptical. They could be playing her for a sucker…but if these Clones wanted her dead or captured, they could have done both of those things multiple times at this point. She saw no reason why she should not proceed further. Besides…she’d been quite lonely. Spunk, her R-3 unit was a faithful companion, but he was still just a droid. She was starved of the warmth of another human hand for who knew how long. When Gregor had put his hand on her, she had wanted to melt. 

It had been too long. 

Emerging from the destroyed house, Rex motioned for them to stay quiet as they ran. “Howzer’s got the ship not far from here.” He whispered as he drew up his hood. “Follow me.” 

Calypso flipped up hers, and nodded. If there was one thing she’d gotten good at since the Order, it was running. 

She was shocked at how nimble Rex was. He lunged over fallen debris like it was nothing. His breathing was still quiet and steady when Calypso was gasping for breath. Gregor sounded like he had asthma. Calypso pumped her arms to where she was almost in stride with Rex. 

“Where are all the civilians?” He asked in a steady voice. Calypso took a shaky breath. 

“Taken hostage or dead…on my account.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. 

“It’s not your fault.” Rex huffed. “You can’t live your life thinking like that, or else you’re living in hell.” 

Calypso’s eyes stung in the breeze, but she nodded; grateful for the sober reminder. He was right. It couldn’t have been helped. 

All of a sudden, blaster fire rained down on them like hail. 

“Kriff, they found us!” Gregor screeched. 

“Split up! I’ll take her up by the roofs to draw them away. You get to the ship and come get us!” Rex demanded. 

“Sir! Yes, Sir!” Gregor cried, and sprang down a branching street. Calypso drew her saber, and deflected a few blasts from behind, gasping at the legion of troopers that followed them. 

“How did they find us?” She gawked. Rex sighed. “Probably the foot prints we’re leaving behind.” He grunted. He drew his blaster, and seized Calypso’s wrist. 

“Up!” He demanded, rounding a corner that shielded them from the blasts.

“But—we’ll be completely vulnerable!” She spluttered indignantly. 

“We haven’t got a choice.” Rex fired a few shots around the corner as blasts continued to whiz past them. “You’ll have to trust me.” 

“But I just met you!” Calypso retorted. She used the Force to redirect a shot away from Rex. 

“What—? No you…that’s not the point.” Rex grunted. “I’ll cover you. Get up to the roofs now!” 

“Alright, I’m going.” Calypso rolled her eyes in defeat. She used the Force and leapt up to the roof with little difficulty. She peered down at Rex. 

“Need some help?” She inquired, shifting her weight to one side and resting a hand on her hip. Rex rested his foot on a window seal, lunged upward, gripped the shingles along the edge of the roof, and flipped over them; landing silently beside Calypso. 

“No, thank you.” He brushed himself off. 

“Are you showing off for me, Captain? You’re too kind.” Calypso smirked. The Captain grinned.

“Just try to keep up.” He chuckled. They heard the sounds of TIE-Fighters somewhere in the distance. 

“They’re on the roofs!” A trooper cried. “Blast them!” 

“Run.” Calypso and Rex said in unison. They took off across the flat roof, leapt across to another, and continued their marathon through the cool night. Calypso’s arm burned, and her lungs ached, but she could not give up. She might finally be able to find somewhere to stay with Rex’s help. Somewhere safe with other people. The TIE-Fighters whistled through the air, and sounded closer to them. Calypso was almost out of breath. 

“Those Fighters won’t make this easy.” Rex scoffed. There were only two from what Calypso sensed. 

“Don’t stop!” She demanded. 

“What?” Rex glanced back over his shoulder. Calypso skidded to a halt, and used the Force to throw Rex across the next jump. She whipped around, and ignited her blade. 

“What are you doing?” Rex cried from across the gap. 

“Taking care of the problem!” She cried. “GO!” 

She didn’t look back to see if he had obeyed. The TIE-Fighters zoomed closer and on started firing at her; the sound making her ears ring.

Calypso took a deep breath, braced her feet and deflected one of the bolts back into the Fighter using the Form Soresu. The fighter spiraled out of control as it crashed into the other, and the sky became alight with the orange glow of the explosion. The searing heat caused Calypso to stumble backwards a few feet and adrenaline pumped through her veins. 

The shrapnel fell from the sky and crashed into the houses and roofs below. Calypso began to run back, and success swelled in her chest as she lunged across the gap between the houses. When she landed, she felt searing pain in her side that pulsed and throbbed. She let out a small cry, but clapped her hand to her side and hardened her face. She could see Rex just a rooftop away. 

She could make it. 

She staggered up, but shots continued to fly past, barely missing her. 

“Calypso!” Rex called. He started to run back. Calypso gritted her teeth to keep from screaming as the pain truly kicked in. Her vision spun, and she felt her warm blood coating her hand pressed to the wound. 

“Shrapnel,” She huffed. Then she realized it was trickling down her leg. Rex arrived by her side out of breath. 

“That—that was incredible.” He breathed, then his eyes widened. “Can you walk?” He asked, his tone grave. Calypso gulped and gave a small nod. 

“You sure? That doesn’t look too good.” 

Calypso straightened despite the pain. 

“I’ll be fine.” She insisted. Rex fired a few shots down below and looked skeptical. 

“That doesn’t look ‘fine.’” He pressed. Calypso felt nauseous when she looked down at her side. Although her life had been full of bloodshed, she hated the sight of blood. 

“I’m…” she started, and the world started to spin. The roaring of a new ship’s engines were heard but she didn’t see it. Her hand slipped from her side, and her blood poured. 

“We need to get you to a medic,” Rex’s tone was severe. 

Calypso realized her wound must be deep for it to bleed so much. She double over as pain ripped through her chest. 

“Does ever Jedi you meet injured the first day?” Calypso’s speech was slurred as she tried to make the joke. Her knees gave out from under her, and she felt vomit sliding up into her throat. She expected to hit the roof, but she didn’t. She was being held up against something…and the something was carrying her to a new ship. 

“‘S not my ship.” Calypso gasped. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she heard distressed voices cry out for Rex to hurry, and she slipped into unconsciousness. 

#tcw fanfic #Captain Rex #Calypso #Captain Gregor #Caroline_writes

[anarchy-n-glitter]

Ain’t No Grave

Summary: Bounty hunter Cad Bane goes missing while working a job on Tatooine. While on the ship, his lover, Dreiah Kestha, begins to worry and sets out to find him.

(Warnings: Descriptions of surgery and near death experiences. Angst.)

This has spoilers for episode 7 of The Book of Boba Fett, and also it’s an established relationship between Cad and Dreiah/reader.

Part 1 of 2

It was eerily quiet.

Dreiah had opted to stay behind on the Justifier, saying something about having a meeting with a woman named Qi’ra. That was only partially true, and the small service droid who kept her company at the moment knew that. She needed the peace and quiet, some time away from her stubborn lover, but when she hadn’t heard from Cad, worry began to bubble beneath her cold and uncaring exterior. Her hands began to fidget with the necklace draped around her neck - the physical representation of how fond they’d grown of each other over the last twenty years. It was an unconventional story; two bounty hunters after the same person, a brief fight that ended with her saving his life from an accidental scratch, and then her hiring him to protect her from a larger threat later on down the line. He told her she’d come to regret letting him live - and she told him that she hadn’t come to regret anything yet.

Something wasn’t right.

She wondered if the Pykes had more work for him, but she brushed it off when she realized he would have informed her or TODO. Then she began to wonder if he was still angry with her, after all they did fight earlier that day. She didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but he did have the tendency to be hard-headed. She apologized to him before he left, she explained where she was coming from, but if he was still mad all of that wouldn’t matter.

Her gaze drifted to the windshield toward the front of the ship, and she was greeted with the sight of plumes of dark, billowing smoke rising above the city in the horizon. Mos Espa still looked quiet and quaint, despite the obvious signs of destruction against the bright blue sky.

The worry within her only managed to grow, eating away at her from the inside out. She knew what this feeling was, and she’d felt it before, though not quite as strongly as she did now. This time was different, and while her heart ached in the same way it did that day, something felt like it was calling out for her. Twenty years ago she would’ve hated to admit it - hell, maybe even ten years ago - but she loved him, and as she turned the cold, blue stone on her necklace she was only reminded of how much he meant to her - and vice versa - and how losing him would devastate her. He was the only person she could actually bring herself to trust, and he was one of, if not the only person, that knew the real Dreiah.

They were words unspoken, but Dreiah knew it to be true. As that suffocating helpless feeling crept in further, she was reminded of why she kept coming back. After every argument and after every job gone wrong, she always found herself there, still willing to tear a person apart for looking at him the wrong way. Love was a scary word for them, but it was the only word that could describe the bond they shared.

There was a sudden pulsing feeling that radiated from her chest and spread to her limbs, making her body feel numb for a few moments before sending another wave through her. Her vision became spotty as the already dark ship descended into complete darkness for a few seconds, though her eyesight came and went less frequently than the numbness.

Something was not right.

With a gasp, Dreiah shot up out of her seat, nearly hitting her head on the lower ceiling on accident. She stood on shaky legs that she wasn’t even sure she had anymore, gasping for air with lungs that burned as the pressure returned to her chest. It felt as if a ghost were holding her by her torso and squeezing - like a snake had slithered around her and wouldn’t let go.

From across the room, TODO watched the Alcinian closely and wearily. Dreiah had an awful temper at times, though this time it didn't seem like she was throwing a tantrum. It normally took a lot more for her to reach that explosive point - a point he’d rather not witness her reach again. Her bright, yellow eyes flickered toward the service droid and he feared what she might do. She looked almost animalistic standing there, slightly hunched over with her claws readied, and TODO could’ve sworn she was snarling - at least, he thought she was until he saw her wild expression twist into one of pain.

“TODO,” she growled through gritted teeth before letting out a choked sob. The service droid trotted over hesitantly, still unsure if she was angry or not. “Fly us closer to Mos Espa.” She demanded through labored breaths. Alarms quickly flashed through the droid’s programming as he tried to make the right decision.

“Mister Bane said to keep you - I mean the ship - far from the city. He said it would be dangerous.” Under any other circumstance, Dreiah would have internally swooned at the gesture. Cad wanted to keep her safe, she got that, but it really wasn’t the time for that.

“TODO you kriffing bucket of bolts, if you don’t get me down there I will make sure your life is a living hell, you got that?” She spat, unsure of how she would actually make good on that threat, especially feeling the way she did now.

The droid merely stared at her, as if to tell her that no matter what tantrums she threw, Cad’s word was prioritized higher than hers. This only managed to make her angrier.

Dreiah pushed past the droid, nearly collapsing in the process, as she rushed to the cockpit. If she wasn’t used to the layout of the ship she would have been overwhelmed by the control panel, but one thing stood out to her. A rather large blinking red light up in the corner of the window caught her eye, and while her entire world was spinning, she had to ask about it. She’d never seen it before, and she wondered if it had anything to do with that horrible feeling she had.

TODO let out a gasp, rushing to Dreiah’s side, implying he knew exactly what that light meant.

“What?” She asked him, but the droid ignored her. He immediately hovered up to the control panel, frantically pushing buttons to take the ship out of autopilot mode. Dreiah was losing patience with him as she waited on an answer, and she feared losing consciousness too with the way her head was feeling. “TODO what is it? What does that light mean?”

“It’s Mister Bane, he’s requesting help.” Her body went numb again, though this time she knew it was from fear.

“What?” Her voice was breathy as she felt true panic set in. The ship wasn’t moving fast enough for her to feel comfortable.

“The last time it went off was when you dragged him to the ship after he dueled Boba Fett.”

That was all she needed to hear. It was as if all her strength returned to her, despite the fogginess in her mind, and it gave her the energy to run off toward the drop ramp. The ship was descending slowly, too slow for her liking. The service droid was quiet as he approached her, feeling slight remorse. He’d never seen Dreiah this nervous nor had he ever seen her so uncomposed.

They were silent for a moment.

“Please misses Bane,” she wasn’t expecting to hear that, and she was suddenly brought out of her panicked frenzy. That was a title she didn’t quite have yet - or at least, not legally - and yet hearing it at this point felt natural. She wasn’t sure if she would actually be called that.

Dreiah Alci Bane; she liked the sound of that.

“I must insist you stay on the ship. It’s dangerous.” She shook her head.

“Something’s wrong, TODO. I have to go find him. I can get there quicker than you can.” There was another brief pause, with the droid opting to stare at the much taller woman. Stern as ever, yet behind her determined and borderline angry expression was melancholy. The droid suspected her sudden mood had something to do with the necklaces they wore. Her hand was wrapped tightly around the stone, so much so that the droid feared her claws would dig into the sensitive skin of her palm.

Yes, it certainly had something to do with the necklace.

The ship had finally descended and Dreiah was out of the ship before the drop ramp was fully down, much to the dismay and protests of the small droid.

The Tatooine winds had begun to kick up the dirt and dust, which circled around her and threatened to throw her off of her path. The sandy buildings appeared almost white under the two suns, practically blinding Dreiah for a moment as she found her footing. TODO shouted after her, telling her to be careful as he watched her run off into the distance, silently hoping she’d return in time with his master.

It was almost as if she herself was running on autopilot - confidently running down the streets of Mos Espa as if she knew the place like the back of her hand. With the sun reflecting on the lightly colored buildings, she feared she’d never find him. Deep down, something was guiding her to him, and while she wasn’t one to believe in supernatural forces, one day she would reflect on this and know deep down that some divine force was leading her through the hostile streets.

Her heart was pounding harder than it was earlier, practically jumping out of her chest with each beat, as she continued to push herself. She was driven purely by fear and hope by the time she reached the sandy Tatooine terrain. She wasn’t sure what she was going to find when she finally stopped, and that utterly terrified her. She hadn’t been alone in so long, and now that she had someone, even if the relationship was complicated, she never wanted to go back. Dreiah could admit that at this point, she’d be a wreck without him.

Perhaps that was the universe’s revenge on her for the choices she made. She had property on Alcinia - a castle - and a large sum of money from when her parents died. She didn’t need to live the life she did, taking away other lives for her own sick enjoyment. Of course the fates would throw her someone who completed her so perfectly and taunt her with the idea of companionship only to take it away at the last second.

Her legs hardly felt like they belonged to her, and as she took the final turn they nearly gave out.

Anyone who hoped she wasn’t around - anyone who hoped she wouldn’t find him - would quickly realize their wish wasn’t going to come true.

She couldn’t hear it, but she could feel it. From her dry and burning throat tore a gut wrenching scream - a scream filled with dread and pain and love. It ripped through the air like her claws ripped through flesh. Those close by knew to stay away, but for some, it was more than a warning, it was a promise. She was going to tear the person who did this limb from limb; she was going to hang them by their wrists and let them bleed out on her castle’s floors.

The castle she was going to share with him.

Her blood curdling cry alerted everyone that Dreiah Kestha - famed bounty hunter and lover of Cad Bane - was in Mos Espa…

And she found the body of her lover lying in the middle of the street, as still as he was when he would finally rest.

“Cad…” She ignored how the sand shifted around her feet, getting into her sandals and making her move slower than she’d like. Her body was breaking down again, though this time she was unsure if it was because of shock or her ailment from earlier. She dove next to him, dropping to her knees so fast they popped. Her hand came to rest on his chilled cheek, though she wasn’t sure if that meant he was gone or not.

She mentally cursed his literal cold blooded nature as she frantically searched for a pulse. The light on his chest continued to blink, and it gave off a soft beeping noise that seemed to sync up with the faint beating of one of his hearts. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt the weak pulse, letting herself relax slightly as she realized at least one of his hearts was working, though it felt weak, and she feared losing him before getting back to the ship.

His already pale skin somehow looked paler, and his eyes were open, staring blankly at the sky. The sight was haunting, to say the least, and Dreiah knew that if he survived this she would have to convince him to retire - to give up this life that could take him from her at any given moment.

If she weren’t so scared she would’ve scoffed at the idea. Cad would never give up his life as a bounty hunter for her, but maybe she could convince him to leave behind his feud with Boba Fett.

Dreiah grabbed onto his arm, lugging the lifeless limb up as she pressed a button on his gauntlet.

Meanwhile, back on the Justifier, TODO waited anxiously to hear back from either Bane or Dreiah. The alert light blinked tauntingly, and the service droid couldn’t help but hope that they were both safe. He had a bad feeling about that light.

His comm crackled and came to life with the sounds of the Tatooine winds and a faint voice. Immediately the droid jumped into action, listening closely for instructions, but all that came were distant voices and wind.

“TODO-” it was Dreiah. If the droid had an organic heart he was sure it would have dropped. It wasn’t good that she was answering. “TODO, I’ve found Bane.” That was a slight relief.

“Good! Where is he?” The droid asked enthusiastically. There was a delay, but when she spoke it only alarmed him further.

“He’s not looking so good…” Another crackle in the comm. “He has a pulse though.”

“Miss Dreiah, please, what are your coordinates?”

Dreiah paused for a moment, looking around at her surroundings before searching Cad’s gauntlets. She managed to find a hidden latch that opened to a small screen, one she’d seen him use before when they got lost. She read off the numbers and letters in a hurried manner, telling the droid to get there as fast as possible.

“Dreiah…” Her gaze immediately snapped to Cad’s face. He looked confused, and she could tell he was in pain. She dropped his arm and immediately held his face in her hands; she couldn’t hide the bittersweet smile tainted by her tears. He tried to listen to her, but he could barely hear her over the ringing in his ears.

He didn’t dare try to sit up, and the burning sensation in his chest reminded him of how he got in that situation. The job, Fett, that stupid stick he didn’t seem to notice on his back. All he could do was lay there and feel the warmth from Dreiah’s hands on his cheeks.

She came to find him.

After everything that happened he was still shocked that she would come to find him.

“Dreiah, Izrin, what are you-”

“Shh,” she shushed, rubbing her thumb along his cheekbone. “We’re getting you out of here. We can help you, I…” She stopped herself. Her mind was running rampant with thoughts she shouldn’t be having. If we didn’t fight I could have saved him, she decided. If I was here this wouldn’t have happened.

One of her hands dropped to his chest, and she couldn’t stop the gasp that left her lips when she realized it was wet. Her hand was coated in a thin layer of green. Her body went numb again.

“I’m so sorry.” Words she’d repeat again and again until they’d lost meaning.

The wind began to pick up again, swirling around the two as the Justifier descended above them, kicking up sand and dust with it. Dreiah looked up with wide, teary eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she worried about the future.

Further in the city, Boba Fett watched as the familiar ship came down near the place he’d left his old mentor to rot. He wasn’t sure if he was worried or angry, but he knew that if Bane got on that ship this madness would never end. As he took a step forward, he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to face.

Boba had heard the screams, and he knew Dreiah would not hesitate in attacking him. Especially now, during her rescue attempt. Taking a step forward meant risking his life to finish this. Dreiah was tough, but he was almost positive he knew how to take down an Alcinian.

Immune to blaster fire, but not to a lightsaber or vibroblade. They had weak spots all over their bodies, one prominent one being their palms.

He’d have to get her angry enough to forget.

TODO hovered out of the ship with a stretcher, gesturing for Dreiah to bring Cad over. With all the strength she could muster in that moment, she lifted the limp Duros and put his arm over her shoulders, trying her best to move him without ripping him open even further. The droid lowered the stretcher far enough for him to practically collapse into it.

Dreiah turned around to collect his hat, but the sight she was greeted with was not a welcome one.

Boba Fett, in his Mandalorian armor, donning his helmet, was standing at the end of the road, staring her down. Dreiah snarled, flexing her fingers in a way that suggested she was going to attack.

“TODO, get Cad on the ship, now.” She demanded, not waiting for an answer as she stepped in front of the duo protectively. If Boba shot at them, or used one of his missiles, it would all be over. The rescue would be for nothing and while she might survive, she knew her loved ones wouldn’t.

Standing at seven feet tall, Dreiah was a sight to behold, angry and animalistic in her rage. Boba did fear what she would do next, but in all honesty he was done with them. She took a step forward, her poncho blowing wickedly in the wind. She was fast, but Boba knew he could be faster, he just had to focus.

When she didn’t move again, he realized it was a challenge. She wanted him to take a shot at her so she was justified in tearing him apart. He would be made an example for the people of Mos Espa, and Freetown, and even a warning to Din and Fennec. Touch Cad Bane, and suffer the wrath of Dreiah Kestha.

He wondered if he’d be able to kill her from where he was standing. Stopping Dreiah meant stopping this whole plan in its tracks.

She continued to stare him down, but her demeanor changed. She seemed arrogant - cocky - like she knew she could get away with anything. He wouldn’t dare pull the trigger on her.

Bane’s words echoed in his head, reminding him of what he was. He was a killer… but not anymore. If Bane truly was going to live, then Boba had done well in proving his old mentor wrong.

He put his blaster away and watched silently as Dreiah continued to taunt him.

“Dreiah, we have to leave now!” The Alcinian looked behind her to see TODO. He already got Cad inside, and they were waiting on her. With one last glance at the clone, she turned around, rushing onto the closing drop ramp without a second thought.

Bane barely seemed alive when she got inside, lying motionless on the table with only the steady rising and falling of his chest to indicate that he was indeed still alive. She rushed to his side, grabbing onto his hand and holding it close to her - how she wished she could never let go.

This whole ordeal made her sound like a lovesick teenager, but she couldn’t care. This was the second time she nearly lost him, this time was a closer call than the last.

“I have to start operating,” the service droid began remorsefully. “Do you want to stay like last time?” She glanced at Cad’s sleeping form and she assumed TODO had already sedated him. Hopefully he’d stay asleep for a while.

“Yes, please.” Her voice was much softer than before with no trace of bitterness or panic.

Now that he was there, she seemed much calmer.

She stayed strong during the procedure, watching the little droid hurriedly work at repairing and replacing parts of Cad’s damaged heart and lungs. It was harrowing to be sure, but not as nerve wracking as trying to find him on Tatooine. She stayed by his side for the rest of the night, waiting and hoping that he’d wake up and be fine. Then, the night turned to day, and TODO told her he had to get the bacta tank ready. She felt that same worry and heartache take over, but she didn’t stop the small droid from leading her back to her private quarters. She knew she needed to rest for a bit and she needed to give Cad some space while he recovered. The last thing she wanted was to chase him away now.

Her room was smaller than she remembered. It had been a while since she actually stayed in her quarters, opting to spend her nights with Cad in his own quarters or in the cockpit. The room was also emptier, with the clothes she kept on the ship being moved to his room as well. Just seeing the dark, old place made her want to cry, but when her head hit the pillow, she was out like a light.

She could rest easy now knowing he was on his way to recovery.

#cad bane #cad bane x reader #cad bane x oc #cad bane x dreiah kestha #star wars fanfiction #star wars #the book of boba fett spoilers #tbobf spoilers #canon x oc #reader insert

[kimageddon]

Star Wars Fics - Shoot Me Down

Crosshair idea - came to me last night listening to the song. It's not as detailed as my usual writing but I wanted to post this idea while it was still in my mind.

Contains Angst!

Shoot Me Down

She’d met him on the job. First she was a bounty hunter hired to train Clones on Kamino. There was always one soldier that had a smart comment, considering she was smaller than them, and a woman. They shut up after they saw her shoot however. It was why she was hired, after all.

It was after she took the more permanent job of weapons specialist that their paths crossed. She’d been in the range, testing a new set of blasters when he’d sauntered into her life, toothpick at the corner of his mouth. The only reason she’d known he was even a clone was the armour.

He’d laughed at her for missing the target and rolled his caf-brown eyes at her when she explained it was the blaster itself. She had not taken that lightly. She dropped the faulty blaster and grasped her heavily modified blaster pistol and fired multiple times into the target dummy. One where each eye would be, one in the centre of it’s head and three between the apex of the legs. The clone’s brows rose almost to his hairline.

It quickly turned into a competition, which he obviously won, but he seemed pleased enough that she held her own. She’d never been beaten before at this and grumbled about it, but the grin on her face belied her words.

Crosshair, he said his name was. No wonder she couldn’t beat him.

I was five and he was six We rode on horses made of sticks He wore black and I wore white He would always win the fight Bang bang, he shot me down Bang bang, I hit the ground Bang bang, that awful sound Bang bang, my baby shot me down

It seemed the sniper of Clone Force 99 began to make a habit of his little training sessions, always managing to find her when she was in the range. Always trying to make sport of it, often reminding her in person how he’d out shot her and took her perfect record. She was quick to fire back and give as good as she got. The tell tale smirk on Crosshair’s face was something only his brother Hunter understood.

As it turned out, when she was sent to test some weapons in the field, a new type of rocket launcher that had Wrecker bouncing from foot to foot, was when things really changed.

She worked with the Bad Batch with requisitions, modifiers and anything else they needed, but working in the field was different. She got along well enough with them and while they were unsure about her at first, she fit in after a short time with them, proving herself capable in a pinch.

Hunter noticed it first, mid way through the tests, he had them form up into battle positions. The enemy was closer than the intel had led them to believe and before she knew it, she was in the middle of a battle, just as headstrong as the boys, charging head-first into the fray. It was when the blast went off, sending her flying back, separated from the boys when she started to worry. She could hear shouting through the comms but hers were damaged. That’s when the sniper began to rain down hellfire around her, picking off droids while she recovered enough to blast her way up to higher ground. She didn’t hesitate, firing round after round into the swarming droids.

When things had died down, Crosshair had shouted at her angry bitter words… but when she saw his face she understood. He kissed her then on that battlefield. Hot and blistering in the way kisses only come when the heart fears losing it’s other half.

Seasons came and changed the time When I grew up, I called him mine He would always laugh and say "Remember when we used to play?" Bang bang, I shot you down Bang bang, you hit the ground Bang bang, that awful sound Bang bang, I used to shoot you down

There were times of bliss and joy and fun. The missions, shooting competitions, friendly banter. When Echo joined the team it became even more of a family. They went on more missions. They enjoyed their time together… Crosshair began to show a new side of himself, something softer. More gentle. There was still teasing and snarky comments. But also gentle touches and deep kisses when they were alone.

Then one day everything changed.

The war was over. They met a new friend in a little girl… and then everything happened in a blur. She remembered screaming for Crosshair across the hangar, reaching for him, begging him to join her… She remembered seeing his hands shaking, his eyes widen as the shot rang out... and then she was falling.

She barely remembered being dragged onto the Havoc Marauder, howling in a pain far more than physical.

Music played and people sang Just for me the church bells rang Now he's gone, I don't know why And 'til this day, sometimes I cry He didn't even say goodbye He didn't take the time to lie Bang bang, he shot me down Bang bang, I hit the ground Bang bang, that awful sound Bang bang, my baby shot me down

She could only lay in the bunk, exhausted, in pain. All she could think in her mind over and over. I will get him back.

------

Tags:@two-black-leviathans @fallenrepublick @eyecandyeoz @ashotofspotchka @sitherin-mxschief @littlepossss @octupus-on-the-moon @by-the-primes @justalittlecloud Join the tagist here and lmk if you wanna be removed. <3 Extra tags cos I heard you like Crosshair, hope this is alright! @murdertoothpick @ct-crosshair @rebekadjarin

#the bad bad spoilers #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #bad batch crosshair #bad batch hunter #bad batch wrecker #tbb tech #echo bad batch #crosshair #the things that enter my head #i already have another idea #all or nothing #the bad batch x reader #crosshair x oc #crosshair angst #crosshair fanfic #crosshair tbb

[shimmersing]

Constellation

Part One | Part Two | Interlude | Part Three

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Gen Relationships: Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor/Male Republic Trooper, Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor/Republic Trooper Characters: Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Qyzen Fess, Yuon Par, Parkanas Tark-Lord Vivicar Additional Tags: Angst, Tython, Emotional, Mentioned Mutual Pining, Fluffy, Sad, Melancholy Returning to Tython after shielding the last master suffering from Vivicar’s Force plague, Aitahea is faced with more struggle in her efforts to heal the Order and keep the Force in balance. Tired, injured, and longing for someone she can’t have, perhaps ever, the lines of her responsibility as a Jedi and her own convictions begin to blur. As Aitahea nears the end of her quest to save Yuon Par and the other Jedi Masters, she’s confronted with painful revelations and answers that only give rise to more questions. Shouldering the lives and minds of Jedi across the galaxy – alone – may prove to be more than Aitahea can bear.

Part Three

AN: I highly recommend you read Impending, a once-upon-a-oneshot that snuggles right into Constellation here, between parts two and three. Enjoy!

May the Force be with you.

Standing in the airlock, Aitahea let the echo of Erithon’s voice roll over and through her, like she might flow through saber stances during practice. Six syllables, like the spiral of a breath, a last sigh of hope to cling to in her fierce exhaustion and anguished determination.

It was the first time they’d spoken since Alderaan; everything else had been missed calls and quickly dashed-off messages. She’d mentioned her return to Tython, but not her weariness, loneliness, or how since leaving Alderaan, the only dream she’d remembered on waking was of him, humming Star by Star and stroking her hair. As far-flung as they’d been, she had doubted he’d see her injuries in a grainy holo.

Instead, she’d simply listened.

Erithon’s mother and sister had given him no end to their questions about the “princess” - as his youngest niece had gleefully declared - having seen their gala appearance splashed across the holonet. He’d explained with proud reticence that he had been harassed into calling to say hello for them, but he hoped she was doing well, of course.

See-Too had whirred politely in the common room entryway, a subtle warning that the other crew had begun stirring in response to their arrival. Aitahea had gently interrupted Erithon a final time, thanking him for calling, but she was needed urgently. He’d nodded, evidently used to the same, and then… “May the Force be with you.” She hadn’t even had a chance to reply, to wish him the same, before the call had disconnected, and she’d been alone again in the dark.

Minutes later, the Luminous had docked to Vivicar’s stolen ship, though Sia had only done so under protest.

“I don’t fucking like this, Ai.”

“There’s no other way, Sia. I trust you to keep the Luminous safe.”

“Yeah, me too, but what about you?”

Aitahea had pressed her lips into a tight line and turned away from her friend, unable to offer anything more to assuage Sia’s concern or her own guilt. The Progress had made all reports on time, presumably under Lord Vivicar’s control, so no one in the wider Republic knew that anything was awry.

Qyzen had refused to let her board alone, though she’d helplessly argued for it. They both knew she was still healing, only maintaining the shielding by a hair’s breadth. Vivicar’s ruinous intrusion on the ritual had done more damage than Aitahea had been willing to acknowledge. Sia had muttered under her breath something about needing to get a kolto tank installed in the med bay.

The Progress was shrouded in flickering darkness, the black of deep space. The stars still glittered, but coldly, distantly. Aitahea wasn’t certain what they’d find on board; there were many lives, but they writhed beneath a shadow grown powerful. Qyzen waited beside her as the airlock cycled to admit them to the hijacked ship.

The first rush of soldiers took her off guard; she flinched at the sight of Republic insignias below fevered eyes and slack faces. A growled warning from Qyzen brought her back to the task of disabling them with as little harm as possible.

It all horrified her, this perversion of so many things she held dear. The horrible stain of the dark side flowed on the ship and everyone aboard. She could barely hold it in check, growing steadily more vulnerable as her shielding was meticulously assaulted.

Vivicar was blessedly silent until Aitahea reached the first computer console. When he finally spoke, it was like being plunged into dark water. The consular reeled, fighting to keep her fingers on the control panel and not digging into her own temples.

I wasn’t sure if you’d be foolish enough to come aboard, Aitahea. But I can sense your presence.

Aitahea swallowed hard against a wave of nausea. “And I sense a man tormented by the past.”

You are blinded by the light side. You can’t understand what you face.

Biting back a sharp retort, Aitahea shoved away from the console – she didn’t possess the necessary slicing skill to coax open the blast doors from there. She could cut her way through the thick durasteel with her lightsaber, but time felt too precious.

Nearby were a few barrels, each with a combustion risk label splashed across it. She could fling them into the door using the Force, but it would be violent and destructive.

Oddly, Aitahea found she didn’t mind that so much right now and lifted a hand. The explosion was terrific, throwing back her hood. The wave of heat quickly grew so intense Aitahea had to shield herself and Qyzen until it abated.

As they stepped through the hissing, superheated breach, Vivicar’s voice echoed in a hateful thrum. Come to me, Jedi. I’ll show you how light can be snuffed out.

Aitahea swayed briefly, closing her eyes. There was no part of her that wasn’t in anguish. If this wasn’t already snuffed out, what could possibly be worse? She felt alarmingly close to knowing exactly what.

May the Force be with you.

It was Erithon’s voice this time, no tainted whispers, just her own beautiful memory. A light in the dark. She could follow that through this horrific present; through anything, perhaps. Aitahea opened her eyes, signaled her companion, and forged ahead.

Most of the unwitting fighters in their path could be stopped with a Force wave, tumbling them unconscious but mostly unharmed to the floor; but the squad leaders would be hardier – she knew from experience.

The first squad leader, a hulking being of indeterminate origin, was waiting for them at the first intersection, alone. The soldier didn’t fall for Qyzen’s feint and instead hoisted his cannon toward Aitahea, spraying cryogenic fluid. She flicked it away, readying her lightsaber to deflect any shots from the holdout blaster she knew he’d be hiding.

Qyzen shifted into an effortless and decisive strike, taking advantage of a seam in the trooper’s armor. Aitahea shuddered, feeling the soldier’s perception flare out, leaving nothing but gleeful darkness seething in every shadow.

“Herald?”

“I’m fine,” she bit out. “Let’s proceed.”

After navigating a few more hallways, they located the secondary computer terminal. She’d barely set her fingers to the keypad when Vivicar splintered her thoughts.

Tell me, Aitahea, what was it like? Letting your life force drain away to shield a stranger from me - how did it feel?

Aitahea frowned at her suddenly balled-up fists, unclenching and resettling her fingers on the keys before replying. “Painful, but I endured it.”

Pain makes us stronger. And the pain I have endured is beyond your comprehension.

That is why I have won.

Her throat seized, but even after swallowing hard, no words came to her, all her skillful, diplomatic platitudes absent.

“Hunt is not over until beast is skinned, dark thing,” Qyzen rumbled. The console began blaring a klaxon warning, and droids began pouring into the room.

You will understand soon. If you live that long.

“Your power and tactics have brought you this far, but no further.”

Until now, Aitahea had imagined Parkanas Tark as a youth, bright with potential and the Force. But the being that turned to face her as she dragged herself toward the bridge was aged, wretched, and twisted by the dark side.

“This battle was decided before you stepped aboard.”

“I’m tired of your delusions,” Aitahea hissed, past exhaustion and numb with pain. “Explain yourself.”

Vivicar gave her a mocking bow. “As you wish. My plague isn’t just a disease; it siphons power from its victims. With the proper rituals, that power can be channeled. Soon, the combined strength of your Masters will make me the most powerful Force adept who has ever lived.”

The pressure against her shielding intensified, thousands of threads – lives, she realized – suddenly pulled taut. Trembling with the strain, Aitahea took a step forward. She hadn’t come here to bicker; she’d come here to help.

“Turn away from this path, Parkanas. The Order can help you.”

Vivicar laughed.

“Oh, Aitahea.” This time, she visibly flinched when he used her name. “Parkanas Tark died long ago. Even ‘Vivicar’ is merely a skin to be shed. Parkanas offered himself to me on Malachor Three, to crush the Order that destroyed us. He embodied my spirit.” He lifted his hands, a seething glow thick with the dark side writhing around him. “I am no lost Jedi, no ordinary Sith Lord. I am Terrak Morrhage.”

“You can turn away from this path, Parkanas,” she beseeched, fumbling for words while he stalked toward her. “The Order can help you. Just… just come home.”

“No one can oppose me, certainly no child, barely more than a Padawan.” He grinned, ghoulish and without remorse as he ignited his lightsaber. “I am beyond flesh… beyond death!”

Aitahea realized tears were slipping from her eyes, her vision blurring. She was so tired. “No one is beyond the will of the Force,” she whispered, uncertain who the platitude was meant for.

Morrhage laughed again, a sound like plasteel shredding. “I will crush you, Aitahea, and your shattered body will fuel my rebirth!”

For a fleeting moment, she thought of running. Simply turning about, dashing to the safety of the Luminous. She questioned the choice she’d made on Tython, to come here carrying so many injuries, so much guilt and fear. Should she have stayed to heal? She remembered what the Noetikon of Secrets had explained, that the Jedi Master who had created the shielding technique had given his life to end Morrhage’s first plague. Was Morrhage right? Had the light blinded her?

Aitahea took a breath.

The light didn’t blind. Light revealed, left no shadows to hide in. Light nourished; light gave everything yet lost nothing. Light was right now in this moment, not in the past, and would always be in reach in the future. If light called, light would answer.

Aitahea called out.

“Parkanas! I know you are there; I sense you!” Morrhage ignored her outcry, continuing to advance. Aitahea sucked in a breath, ignited her lightsaber, and took a defensive stance. “Help me stop this monster, Parkanas, please!”

Morrhage attacked with spectacular brutality, thousands of years of rage and hatred against Aitahea’s weakened shielding, against her physical self. The Jedi parried and dodged, evading strikes she couldn’t hope to block. Qyzen Fess did what he could to aid her, but Morrhage was fixated on Aitahea. Her body quailed under the assault, shredding her determination. There must be another way…

Morrhage’s next attack struck true, and Aitahea lost a few moments to fiery agony searing across her left side. Reckless with pain, she flung out a wild, violent Force wave that sent Morrhage to the floor and left several nearby panels crushed beyond recognition. A few precious seconds passed while she waited, panting, for her vision to clear.

The fallen Jedi, the false Sith lord, struggled to his knees, glaring death toward Aitahea as she approached.

“Impressive, Aitahea, but my victory is already complete. My plague has spread farther than you can imagine. Jedi Masters across the galaxy are succumbing to it as I speak. The plague binds these Masters to me. Hundreds of them… the heart and soul of your order.

“You feel it, do you not, Aitahea?”

No lies this time; Aitahea could indeed feel the mingled torment of hundreds more Jedi as Morrhage siphoned their lives for strength. Every crack in her shielding, down to the smallest hairline fracture, screamed in agony.

“Kill me, and you will kill every Master I have ever infected. Every one! Shielded or not, they are still bound to me.”

Aitahea dispassionately placed the blade of her lightsaber at his throat. It felt like someone else doing it. She spoke in clipped tones, her voice unrecognizable in her own ears. “Free those Jedi, Morrhage. Now.”

“And if I refuse? Will you cut us down? What choice do you have? You cannot let me live, and I am deathless.” Morrhage leered, his dark victory seemingly assured, and took one more jab: “Your shielding talent cannot harm me. You’ve lost!”

Everything went silent and impossibly still. Your shielding talent cannot harm me. Of course not. It was never meant to harm, only to heal, to offer a path toward the light that anyone could take at any time, without judgement, without conditions, just… a welcome home. The path that she’d longed for, that she’d tried to circumvent over and over, a path she could not offer until she, too, chose it.

Aitahea lowered her arm and deactivated her lightsaber. “I can save you, Parkanas.”

Morrhage reeled back as Aitahea drew the Force around her. The effort would not be without risk, but it was the path that lay before her. Another stillness enfolded her, this time of peace, willingness, and release. Fighting had never been her forte or focus; she was a healer, with words and hands and her lightsaber only when absolutely, undeniably necessary.

Now, she isn’t simply performing the shielding ritual; she is part of it, wholly within and throughout, a numinous space that feels like a Coruscant ocean, like the forests of Tython, like warm sun and a hand to hold on Brentaal, all at once.

Now, she realizes how to bring it full circle; she must allow the Force its will, stop trying to control it, and just let go. Light spills through the cracks in her shielding, and everything is suddenly and wonderfully illuminated.

May the Force be with you.

Parkanas – and it was with every certainty him; the sudden burst of hope where none had been the moment before was unmistakable – went flying backwards, away from Aitahea and leaving the vulnerable spirit of Morrhage isolated before her.

The spirit howled in fury. “No, this body is mine! Damn you, Jedi!”

Aitahea noted with detached amusement that she was levitating, Morrhage’s furious tirade a soft rumble in the background. She felt untethered, undefinably light. Closing her eyes, Aitahea exhaled a long breath and stepped softly down to the floor.

“When my strength returns, no matter the years – I will destroy you,” Morrhage snarled, but Aitahea was already walking toward Parkanas, feeling her own strength returning. She brushed past the raging specter, and in a few more moments, it had disappeared.

Qyzen had already lifted Parkanas Tark to his feet. He had a hand to his head, and Aitahea allowed a thread of sympathy to unwind, a guide to the path she hoped he would be able to take, too.

Parkanas Tark stared at her with open disbelief. “I’m… still alive. You spared me.”

She half-smiled. “Healed you.”

“My mind is…” Parkanas shook his head again. “Clearer now. But – it was your duty to kill me and destroy Morrhage.” His eyes – still smoldering amber, revealing a bitter internal strife – begged for an answer. Why?

“Too many Jedi have been lost already.” Aitahea lowered her gaze, the barest of brief moments to grieve for those lost. “Including Parkanas Tark.”

“Perhaps he deserves another chance, but…” Parkanas’ voice trailed off, adding in a pained whisper, “I cannot return to the Order.”

Swallowing hard against the lump in her own throat, Aitahea pressed. “Tython has its hidden places. Its forests.” That half-smile danced across her lips again, and for a flickering moment, she was light years away. “You could find peace there.”

“I could… go home.” Parkanas grew still, eyes distant and filled with evergreen leaves and rushing water. After a moment, he startled, reaching out to grasp her hands. “But first, Jedi, listen. Take this warning in exchange for my life: You can’t trust the Order. Or the Republic.” Aitahea drew breath to contradict, but he continued. “You may be their heroine now, but they will abandon you, too.”

Aitahea pulled away from Parkanas’ frantic grip, shaking her head while she scrabbled for a coherent thought. “Why…What do you-” Nothing coalesced, leaving her once again a diplomat with no words.

Parkanas held her gaze. “Remember that.”

“We felt it! A massive shift in the Force. The Masters you saved have reported a sudden improvement in their condition. The plague is over, thanks to you.

“And… I sense Parkanas Tark. For the first time in many years. How can that be?”

Aitahea nodded at Master Syo and glanced sidelong toward Parkanas, who was being assessed by Tharan and Holiday. “You can ask him yourself, Master. When he returns to Tython, he can answer all your questions.”

Her companions had dashed through the ship as soon as she’d signaled their safety. Bringing medical equipment to help with the injured and traumatized crew, Prelsiava Tern had even dragged along a protesting See-Two.

“I told you there’d be plenty for you to do; look at that console! It’s completely trashed! Go on, get on it,” Sia had ordered, and the affronted droid had conceded, tottering over to examine one of the smashed panels.

With the logistics managed, and a scant few moments to tuck away the memory of Parkanas’ unsettling words, Aitahea had commed the Council, Master Syo answering with his victorious statement: We felt it!

“Well done, Aitahea. The Jedi Order owes its survival to you.”

Relief swept over her like a wave. “It’s my privilege to serve.”

“Hurry home. We’re waiting for you.”

Aitahea felt nearly presentable again by the time they arrived on Tython. She’d had her injuries treated. She’d eaten and bathed. She’d slept, mostly dreamless but for dappled sunlight and burbling water.

As they touched down on Tython, Aitahea marveled at the incandescent radiance of the Force within the hallowed walls of the Jedi Temple. Each Jedi shone like a bright star, a constellation she’d missed terribly beneath the weight of the shielding. Even Qyzen shimmered, kindling with satisfaction and pride. Beneath all, the grand symphony of Tython itself soared.

In the Council chamber, Master Yuon, Master Syo, Master Satele, and Master Jaric were waiting. Schooling her expression into practiced serenity, Aitahea dropped into a bow, only lifting her gaze when Yuon spoke.

“You have saved untold lives through your defeat of Lord Vivicar and destruction of the plague.” Aitahea felt Yuon’s pride in every syllable.

Even Master Jaric was smiling. “There’s a title reserved for the most prestigious among us, whose wisdom and skill safeguard the galaxy. It hasn’t been bestowed in thousands of years.”

Aitahea became keenly aware of her flushed cheeks, suspended between delight and disbelief, and nodded in vague acknowledgment.

“You have proved worthy,” Master Syo declared. “Now, the Council names you Barsen’thor, warden of the Order.”

Absurdly, Aitahea’s thoughts turned to how much she’d enjoy reading about the other Barsen’thor that had preceded her. Would the archive even contain that knowledge? How many thousands of years? Who were they, who had they set out to be, and what had they done to arrive where Aitahea herself now stood? The Force bloomed with assurance. “I will do all I can to live up to this honor.” Aitahea clasped her hands, sweeping into a low obeisance.

“I never imagined your potential would take you so far.” Yuon beamed, and Aitahea returned the expression as she lifted her head.

Yet concern laced Master Syo’s next words: “And not a moment too soon. We have need of you. The Council has received word that the Republic is facing a new threat.”

“We need time to prepare a war council,” Satele clarified, much to Aitahea’s unspoken relief. “The Supreme Chancellor himself will be attending.”

“I stand ready, Master,” Aitahea assured.

Accepting her pledge with a nod, Syo nodded towards the doors. “Take time to record your journey in the Jedi archives. History must know of your actions.”

Aitahea blinked, more surprised at her own surprise than anything – of course there should be a record of the current Barsen’thor as well; that’s the first place to start, obviously – and almost missed Master Syo’s final words. “We will contact you when the war council is ready. For now, the entire Order will know that there is a new Barsen’thor among us.”

After a round of congratulations from each of the Masters, Aitahea and Qyzen left the Council chamber, ostensibly to bring her story to the archives.

“Scorekeeper smiles, Herald. Is great honor your people give you.” He gestured broadly, sending a few initiates scurrying out of the way. “Points beyond measure!”

Her heart sang with gratitude. She’d trusted him as her ally, her second, her friend; and he’d returned that trust hundredfold. Questioned and advised her, criticized and coddled her, but never judged her. Steadfast and patient, always. If what they had done brought points-beyond-measure to her, he’d have the larger portion by far. “We hunt together, my friend. Whatever my score, you share it.”

Qyzen paused, abruptly turning to face her. Traffic streamed around them; Temple life carried on. “Is… a noble thing you say. My thanks, Herald.”

“My thanks to you as well, Qyzen. Thank you for…” For protecting me? For challenging me? For warning and guiding and validating me? For seeing me when even I could not? “…for everything.”

“Must share the story of this hunt with your Order. It is good to share knowledge.”

Aitahea thought of the Noetikons, the immense value of them for so much beyond the lore and history of the Jedi. Even after becoming one with the Force, they had set alight a path for so many Jedi after, herself included. Like she might, generations from now.

Blinking back tears and knowing full well she couldn’t have hidden them if she’d wanted to, Aitahea smiled. “Then I must make yet another request of you: that you tell the story with me.”

Qyzen regarded her for a long moment, long enough that she began to fret that she’d somehow stumbled into an insult. “You are Scorekeeper’s Herald,” he said solemnly, “and you are true Jedi.”

Aitahea nodded, feeling and breathing and illuminating the Force around them.

“I’m home.”

Part One | Part Two | Interlude | Part Three

#swtor fanfiction #swtor fanfic #star wars the old republic #jedi consular #barsen'thor #qyzen fess #force plague #vivicar #tython #sad #melancholy #lady put the breaks on #aitahea daviin #consular #that's my girl

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [One]

Night Changes Series Masterlist

Summary: It may have been years since Poe and the reader have seen one another, but that doesn’t make the emotional upheaval any easier to navigate for either of them.

Warnings: Fuck ton of angst, language, a lot of feelings, mentions of death and loss, grief. WC-5,780 (Jesus buckle up I guess!)

Poe was dreaming.

Nothing particularly special, but it was a dream nonetheless, a break from the usual nightmares that tended to invade his sleeping mind night after night when all he wanted was to succumb to the darkness for a few hours. The dream was more of a memory, a replaying of a night back on Yavin-4 so many years ago before he and Charlie had gone to flight school.

A night like every other, yet the humid evenings on Yavin 4 always did seem to hold a little mystery, like a warm blanket that wrapped one in a false sense of security; he could do anything. And on that evening, he had snuck some of his father’s good whiskey, the stuff from a planet far, far away, and gone to knock on Charlie’s window in the cover of darkness. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, though the whiskey was a new addition.

Charlie had answered immediately, a big grin stretching across his face even before he saw what Poe had brought, the relief in that grin piquing his curiosity-why did he seem grateful that Poe was there? When he climbed through the window, he found you were already there, sat on the floor across the small bedroom with your back against the end of Charlie’s bed, your face wet with tears and he understood your brothers reaction.

Before Poe could ask what was wrong, Charlie noticed the bottle in Poe’s hands and tapped it excitedly, “Just what we needed! How do you do it, brother?” His voice was always so loud, but in the Horn household it wasn’t an issue. Your mother was asleep on the other side of the house and even if she did wake, she wouldn’t come in and begrudge a little teen rebellion. Poe really liked her for that, for trusting them, for never making him feel unwelcome.

“Didn’t realize it would come in so handy. What's going on, sweetheart?” The affectionate nickname had been around for years, so long now that he hardly noticed himself using it. He liked the way it tugged the corners of your lips up, even when you were sad. But he didn’t like that you were sad right now, his concern only growing when you pulled your knees to your chest and dropped your head to them, hiding your face and, no doubt, a fresh wave of tears.

You had always hated crying in front of them, for some reason. Charlie never cried, but Poe had no issues with sobbing outright in front of you both. He didn’t understand why you felt you had to hide it from him.

Without speaking, Charlie and Poe sat down on either side of you, your brother taking the whiskey and opening it, taking a small swig and huffing through the smoky burn.“Kid, you tell him.” He used that extra soft voice reserved only for you, his free hand reaching over to pat your foot on the ground next to him.

Poe had his shoulder pressed against yours. He knew you enjoyed how warm he always was, that you thought of him as your personal furnace, cuddling him even on warm days like this because you seemed to forever run a little chilly, or maybe you were just a touchy person and you were that comfortable with Poe.

After a few moments of quiet sniffling, you finally raised your head, setting your chin on your knees and staring straight ahead. “Gus ended things earlier.” You whispered into the moonlit room, your voice wavering somewhat with emotion, though Poe could sense it was more of embarrassment and disappointment of being dumped than that of actual heartbreak.

Poe felt an odd mixture of both anger and relief sweep through him, the latter of which he resolutely shoved away, into the far reaches of his mind to be stubbornly ignored. “That kriffing asshole! Who does he think he is, dumping our girl?” And truly, what the fuck audacity did that guy have? Did he not have eyes? Did he not spend just five minutes with you and feel like he was sitting in the company of a Sun, so bright and warm as you were?

You gave a watery laugh at his words, and Poe felt warmth pool in his chest; he was always good at making you laugh. He saw Charlie’s shoulders sag somewhat with relief upon hearing you, always so protective and yet he had difficulty reigning in some of your big emotions, often looking to Poe for his help.

“He said it was because I’m a prude. Because I wouldn’t, you know,” You broke off, and Poe glanced down at you to see you bite your lip briefly, eyes still forward, “He said there was no point going on dates if I wouldn’t even give him the chance to, and I quote, ‘appreciate your tits properly, at the least.’”

Poe turned to face you fully now, his eyes meeting Charlies over your head. His friend looked just as annoyed as Poe felt, hearing what that skinny piece of shit had dared to say to you. A silent agreement crossed between them then, Gus would be meeting their fists come morning. For now, though, Poe focused on you, tossing an arm around your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your hair, “He’s a prize fucking idiot, sweetheart, doesn’t know what he’s losing. Right, Charlie?”

“Exactly. Remember kid, no guy is ever going to deserve you because you are perfect. You don’t need to cry over someone who can’t see how lucky he is you even let him breathe the same air as you,” Charlie added his arm to your shoulders, curving under Poe’s, “Flyboy and I will take care of you, always.” He promised, and you nodded before reaching both hands up to grab each of theirs on your shoulders.

“Thank you.”

And Poe stayed the night, each of you taking turns to sip the whiskey until eventually sleep won out and Charlie crashed on his bed. You and Poe curled up on some pillows on the floor together, your head resting on his chest and even though he knew you were sad, which made him sad too, he couldn’t help but feel truly whole in those moments before sleep took over.

It was a good memory, one which he would have been content to remain in until the abrupt and incessant whirring and beeping of his droid woke him, Poe shooting up in his bed with a shout of surprise. “What? Are we being attacked?”

BB8 came to a stop near the edge of his bed, his noises growing quieter now that he’d woken Poe up.

“Buddy, it’s my day off. You better have a good reason for scaring the living hell out of me-“

The droid beeped again, clarifying his reason for interrupting his rest day. Interest piqued, Poe ran a hand over his face before planting his feet on the floor and leaning towards the droid.

“The new replacement is here? Guess that means the General wants me to come and meet them?”

BB8 confirmed, and now his alarming wake-up made more sense. The droid was as excited as Poe to meet his new second in command. He’d just lost his long-time friend, Jess Pava, to a new unit on an outpost for the Resistance. He’d recommended her for it, at her bequest, because he knew she’d be damn good for the role. But it didn’t make the loss any less disruptive; she’d been gone a few weeks now and he’d had to take on extra duties to compensate.

General Organa had profusely apologized to him a few times now, only explaining that the replacement was due back from a classified mission ‘soon’, and once they were they would be coming straight to D’Qar to join his squadron. He didn’t mind the work, but he was a little miffed that the day the new Major arrived was his only day off.

Poe quickly got himself ready for the day, taking a speedy shower in his fresher before pulling on his khaki’s and button up. Once pleased with his appearance, he stepped out of the fresher and walked toward his small desk area, above which he had a corkboard with a few mementos pinned up, including his favourite picture.

You were standing in the middle, sandwiched between him and Charlie, a big, goofy grin on your face. Charlie was laughing in the photo, and Poe was looking down at you with a fond smile. You all wore flight suits, as it was taking when you had first joined Gold Squadron. Charlie had his arm flung over your shoulders while Poe’s was snaked around your waist. You had your arms wrapped around each of their waists, though Poe remembers how your hand had brushed up his back before the picture was taken, fingers unknowingly leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

He looked at this photo every morning, tapped it once and then carried on with his day. It was the only time he allowed his conscious mind to think of Charlie, of you, and the life he lost in the blink of an eye.

When the door to his quarters opened, Poe saw a few service droids unloading a couple of crates into the room directly across from his. The room where the new member of his team would live. He could see within the unit as the door was open for the droids to carry items in, a few cases already inside the otherwise bare space.

Being careful to step around the droids and avoid falling over his own, who was wheeling excitedly along next to Poe, he made his way to command, hoping the introductions wouldn’t take too long. He had woken up with a big appetite.

And he really needed his morning caf.

“Ready to meet them, buddy?” He asked of his droid, and BB8 gave a happy little ‘weeee’ as he zoomed along beside Poe. He laughed loudly and BB8 pulled ahead, the doors of the command room opening at their approach.

Poe could see into the room now, activity within quiet enough that General Organa and the new arrival both heard his laughter and turned as he walked into the room. For a few beats, Poe kept walking, his mind not processing what he was seeing because it simply could not be. And then he froze, mid-stride.

It was you.

And from the patch on your uniform, it was now Major Horn.

And just like that, every emotion, every feeling of guilt and self-hatred and heartbreak came roaring to the surface, breaking through the walls he’d so carefully built up around what he’d done when he lost Charlie, when he’d lost you, walls he spent the last few years reinforcing as best he could.

Leia knew of the history, though she didn’t know any details of why neither of you had spoken since that terrible fucking night. She simply knew you’d all grown up together, which was probably why she hadn’t felt the need to warn Poe that it was you coming to take over as his second in command. Maybe she thought you had kept in touch and were expecting her.

Stars, Poe hadn’t seen you in person since the funeral. The night he ruined the best thing he had in his life because he couldn’t deal with his grief and took it all out on you, of all people. Poe thought of Charlie then because your brother and you looked a bit alike, but it was your eyes; you each had the exact same eyes. Though yours were lined with thick, long lashes that would sometimes tickle Poe’s cheeks when you would lean in and press a chaste kiss to them.

It had only been a few years, but so much about you had changed. Gone was the goofy girl with braids falling past her shoulders, her big smile that stretched from ear to ear. No, now Poe was looking at you and you were all grown up, wearing your uniform, hair pulled back into a low bun that was woven with intricate braids, a few wisps framing your face. You had leaned out slightly, though you still had your curves, the ones that had boy after boy falling for you back in the day-no doubt now it was man after man. He found his eyes flicking from your face to your hands, but he saw no ring. Not that he should even be thinking of whether you were single or not.

But somehow, it felt like he should know if you were with someone. Because Charlie would have expected Poe to always keep an eye on you, be there for you. The only person he let down more than Charlie was you. He knew his best friend would murder him if he knew the things Poe had said to you that night. He had never known a greater regret, a regret that he carried with him since the moment he spoke and watched your face contort in pain, as though he’d hit you with a physical blow.

He had wanted to apologize, to take it all back that very moment. He couldn’t believe himself, but you’d pull away to be sick and he was so shocked at how much he’d managed to hurt you that he couldn’t do anything other than listen to you when you ordered him to get away from you.

The irony of that wasn’t lost on him, either.

He’d walked straight to the hangar where his x-wing was parked and took it out, finding a secluded spot a few hours away to camp for two days, just to clear his head. He cried and grieved and then he realized just how badly he’d fucked up and he panicked. He started to plan how he would apologize, what he would do to earn your forgiveness and then tell you how he truly felt. But he failed you, hurt you, and he knew he had a lot of work ahead to repair what he’d broken.

Only, when he came back to base and sought you out, he instead found Jess and Tommy waiting for him by your room, their faces so grim his heart had stopped in his chest, and he’s not sure it ever restarted once he found out you’d left. Without a word or a note, you had just...deserted him.

And he knew he deserved it, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Nor did finding out that you’d been clever enough to have your new assignment sealed, eliminating any chance he could have had of going after you.

And he would have. He’d have flown across the galaxy to find you.

Instead, Poe was alone and never, ever forgave himself for being the reason you had fled in the first place.

Eventually, Poe grew enough in rank that he was able to access your private files. He only did so now and again, just to check-in and make sure you were still alive and on active duty. The last time he’d checked had been about five months ago, and it had stated you were on a classified mission that even he couldn’t access the details of. But he knew you were alive and doing well enough that you were getting assigned seriously high-class missions. Charlie would have been so proud of you.

It was a few awkward moments before Poe was able to function, quickly shaking off his shock and continuing forward, his eyes tearing away from your too-blank expression to meet the warm gaze of General Organa. “Commander Dameron, I believe you know Major Horn here. Thank you for coming to greet her with me this morning.” Leia smiled between him and you, and Poe had to swallow before returning it, breaking out his usual grin.

When he looked back at you, he found your blank expression had now morphed into one of utter contempt. An insane part of him wanted to laugh, because how could (y/n) Horn, his best friend since he was a boy, the girl who had owned his heart, ever look at him like that?

Instead, Poe forced a friendly smile, nodding to you politely, “Welcome, Major. It’s...it’s good to see you. And congratulations on your promotion. I’m happy to have you join our team.” He stuck his hand out and hoped you would grasp it.

Your eyes, so much more intense than he ever remembered, searched his face for a second before you took his proffered hand and shook, a small smile appearing on your lips.

“It’s an honour to be here, Commander.” You replied, and Poe had to blink, pulling his hand way almost too quickly. Stars, you even sounded more grown-up. Your voice had always been a little breathy, which Poe had always found alluring. But now it had matured, the breathless way you spoke now demure, feminine.  

“I was just telling Major Horn that after you two had met the day was open,” Leia said, seemingly unaware of the tension between her two best pilots, “I know you earned this day off, Commander, so enjoy it!”

Poe couldn’t help but give her a wide grin, “Thank you, General.”  

“Yes, thank you for taking the time to...reunite us, General.” You said, excusing yourself before abruptly walking past Poe and out of command.

He rushed after you, BB8 still at his side, now beeping in confusion at what the hell was going on. Poe ignored the droid, catching up to you just down the hall. “Wait...(y/n)...”

He trailed off, unsure of what he could even say to you, questioning why he’d stopped your departure. You ceased walking and turned to look at Poe, your expression now openly hostile, which he knew he deserved yet it still stung. He opened and closed his mouth a few times as he stood before you, a huge part of him wishing you’d start yelling at him. Or hitting him.

Instead, you gazed up at Poe and after a moment your face fell, a storm of emotions rolling across your pretty features. You took a careful, measured step back from him, as if afraid he might try and reach out to you. “I didn’t know I was coming here to be on your team,” You didn’t meet his eyes when you spoke, instead focusing on the droid at his feet, “But this is a big opportunity for me, so we’ll make it work.”

You sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself rather than Poe, but he nodded all the same. “Of course. And you deserve it.”

You scoffed, “Thanks so much, Commander.”

“I’ve missed you.”

He didn’t know what possessed him to say that. It was just that one moment you were biting your lip, and then the next you were giving him a familiar look of incredulity that he remembered receiving more than once growing up and he suddenly needed you to hear that he did miss you. Missed you more than you could ever really know.

Poe saw a flash in your eyes before you spun on your heels and marched away, not looking back. He didn’t try to follow you again. He knew there wasn’t a whole lot he could say, not right now when you were both still reeling from the shock of seeing one another again.

And what could he even say to you? Sorry for taking our friendship and smashing it to pieces at the worst possible time? For never speaking to you again because I was too cowardly to try and find you, especially once I realized how deeply I felt for you? And how could he explain how those feelings seemed to develop over such a long time that he didn’t recognize them for what they truly were until you were gone?

Charlie would have hated what had happened between you both. He would have killed Poe, easily, but he’d had also been disappointed in you. Charlie had protected you both that day because you and Poe were his family, and if he found out that his family never spoke again after the funeral? He’d have been livid.

Guilt and regret now at the forefront of his mind, Poe had lost his appetite. Instead, he found the nearest caf machine before hurrying to the flight deck and climbing in his x-wing eager to get off the ground and clear his head for a few hours.

He spent the rest of the morning thinking about Charlie, his heart tight in his chest.

✨

“I’ve missed you.”

You could hit him, you really could. No one was around, either, you might get away with it. But that would be too easy and not nearly as satisfying as you might hope, you knew.

The audacity of Poe fucking Dameron saying he missed you was so infuriating, you briefly considered violence. But you had grown up with him, knew the way he worked even if it had been a few years. You could hate him and still understand him, which meant that he wanted you to give him a strong reaction that he could confront head-on. Scream and punch and cry and he would instantly work to comfort, to apologize, but it was really just a way to make himself feel better.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

You spun away-not before seeing the pained expression cross his face-and hurried off. You figured if you still had such a decent read on him, the same went for Poe. He’d always been able to read you, your body language, expressions, hell Charlie usually went to Poe for help when he couldn’t figure out how to support you, comfort you.

You needed some time alone, time to process and figure out the best way to make this work.

When you were invited by the General herself to come to D’Qar, to work under her ‘top pilot and most trusted Commander’, you hadn't blinked before saying yes. And you’d known that it would mean, inevitably, seeing Poe again-you knew he still worked here. But you’d had no idea until he walked into command that morning that it was his team you were joining.

When you’d been standing with General Organa in the control room, chatting amicably about the weather, the very last thing you’d expected to hear was his booming, rich laugh. And then the doors had opened, a small droid whizzing in, and his laughter continued as he stepped into the room. You had thought you might pass out, throw up, or start screaming.  

With no idea what he was doing there, you had simply stared at him, watched as he reacted to seeing you. Actively working to keep your expression blank, you stared at your once best friend for the first time in years, going numb inside.

In some ways it had been almost comical; he’d frozen mid-step and gaped at you stupidly for a few beats before coming to his senses and continuing forward. And it was at that moment you had realized he was the superior you were meeting. He was the Commander you’d be working under. When he stood directly in front of you, your mind betrayed you by immediately zoning in on one specific thought.

But stars, he’d aged well.

When he finally was able to collect himself enough to wipe the surprise off of his face, it had settled into that easy smile you remembered so well. The one you tried to never think of because of the pain that would build in your chest, the memories and feelings that you had refused to look back on for a very long time now at risk of bursting through your mental walls if you weren’t careful.

Now, that smile revealed a slight crinkling around his eyes, though he hadn’t changed much beyond that. He was just as broad and lean as you remembered, just as handsome and you thought he might be a little more built up, a new layer of muscle moving under his button-up. Charlie would have loved to tease him over the grey flecks you could barely discern in his raven locks, and you suddenly wondered if your brother would have had any grey hair himself.

Those thoughts were fleeting at that moment before fury and sadness and longing were suddenly overtaking you and it was all you could do to remain composed in front of the General when, for the first time in years, you wanted to crumble to the ground. That fucking grin of his, it was always maddening, always so attractive and disarming.

When you were kids, he’d do it to get away with something and even though your parents knew he’d done it, it would work and he’d barely get a slap on the wrist. As teenagers, the strongest memory you had of that grin was one time when he’d climbed into Charlie’s room late at night and your brother wasn’t there-he’d fallen asleep on the couch-so Poe wandered to your room.

You had just gotten out of the fresher, having taken a quick rinse off to cool down, and hadn’t shut the door. Your bedroom door was closed and it was the middle of the night; you hadn’t expected any company. And then Poe just sauntered in, his eyes on your bed where he doubtless thought he’d find you. You had barely had time to freeze, completely naked and mid-stride as you sought a clean nightgown when he seemed to sense you. His head had jerked in your direction in surprise.

That memory forever burned into your mind. The way his eyes had fallen, then snapped up to your face and instead of seeing amusement or a pervy smirk, Poe had slapped his hands over his eyes, cursed, apologized vehemently in a loud whisper, and then he grinned. That grin, just as powerful even though his eyes were covered. It spread across his face and you couldn’t help but laugh despite your embarrassment, quickly throwing on a nightgown before walking over and punching him in the sides a few times, hissing didn’t he know how to knock?

And though you worried it might affect things between you and your best friend, it never did seem to. For you, it did in some ways because you couldn’t seem to get the look on his face (the one that slipped out just before he could properly react and compose himself) out of your head and you wondered what it meant-if anything. He still stayed the night, climbing into your bed, his arms casually behind his head as he laid next to you and told you about his day while never once teasing you.

At one point, when sleep was close, eyes drooping and your cheek resting against his arm, Poe’s soft voice had pulled you from unconsciousness. Barely a whisper, he said, “I really am sorry I came in without knocking, sweetheart. Please forgive me.”

And he’d sounded so concerned, so genuinely stressed that you would be mad at him, you had snuggled closer into his side and murmured your reassurances until eventually, you fell asleep.

Today, however, it was only memories of what that smile used to mean to you and anger for what it was now. That he got to keep that easy fucking grin all these years, it only pissed you off. The logical part of you knew he had been just as surprised to see you and was no doubt struggling himself now, but you didn’t have room to care.

He had been the one to break you, to take your friendship and pulverize it by saying the worst possible things to you.

He had broken you.

That fight hadn’t just been the loss of what you had thought was the greatest friendship in the galaxy. It had been the final moment that took your life from carefree and fun to what it was now, what it had been since. Joyless, lacking, lonely-so fucking lonely.

That had been the night you had to grow up, realizing that not only was Charlie gone, but the life you’d had was too. Gone were the days of adventure, of going on test flights and racing one another, of Poe getting you drinks at the cantina and Charlie sitting with his arm slung casually over your shoulders, until any of you spotted someone who caught your interest. Someone who would only be around for the night but would bring a little pleasure and escape. Charlie was more often the one to go home with such a person, happy to play the field and often making new friends you’d see again, even though he never exclusively dated them.

And the little flare of excitement you’d get each time it was just you and Poe? That had been carefree too because whatever it meant didn’t need to be examined, it just was. Casual touches that lingered and sent heat up your spine, easy and flowing conversation, long hugs even when you’d see each other the next day. All of that had been such a prominent fixture in your life, the slow escalation between you and Poe was something that, to this day, you never tried to understand.

But then Charlie died; everything changed, and you left and never looked back. All the while, Poe Dameron kept grinning like that. Fuck, fuck!

You almost walked straight past your new room, so lost in your thoughts and memories, but thankfully a passing droid greeting you politely pulled to the moment, and you only had to retrace a few steps back. Immense relief washed over you the moment you saw that all of your items had been delivered and unpacked, only a box of mementos and photos left on your desk for you to find new homes for.

Even the bed had been made already. And as much as you wanted to just climb under the covers and shut the world away, you instead set yourself to the task of putting the final touches on your space.

The room was silent save for your occasional gasps and hiccups as you let your emotions run free in the privacy. You proudly displayed the plaque you had been given from the Resistance following Charlie’s funeral; a handsome photo of him in uniform set in the middle, his name inscribed along with his rank, years of life and final resting place on Yavin-4. His flight suit patch was attached to the plaque above the photo, the final touch to a beautiful little tribute to Charlie that you could take with you wherever in the galaxy you went.

The final item you pulled out was a small protective album for photos you displayed in your room. You pulled out the photos, ones of you and Charlie as kids, of your parents, of the whole family plus Poe during one hilariously disastrous little vacation that resulted in all of you returning home and ignoring one another for three days, even Poe. A few from your teen years, early and late, Poe and Charlie usually taking up the most space in the photos between their sizes and huge smiles, and the final photo you had was your absolute favourite.

Smushed between Charlie and Poe, you had a smile on your face that hadn’t been seen in years. It was silly, girlish and youthful and not the person you were anymore. You were looking at the camera, Charlie with his big arm over the top of your shoulders, laughing as he looked toward the camera as well. Poe was looking at you. Giving you a warm smile that you always suspected he only shared with you, one that melted his eyes to pools of warm honey and made your insides wriggle. You remember how his hand burned where he gripped your waist, and you had instinctively traced your hand up his spine in the moment, though you never understood why.  

That photo both broke your heart and made you smile every time you looked at it. The last photo of the three of you together, the three of you happy. A photo that not only showed your love for one another but also hinted at that feeling you never did examine. A photo that revealed that feeling might not have been one-sided, not at all.

When you finished your tidying, you took a seat at your desk and used your data pad to pull up your schedule, curious what the days ahead would look like. Right away you could see no missions in the queue, though that could change in an instant. And as eager as you were to get flying, you knew it would probably be best to spend the next couple of days trying to establish yourself on base, meet the rest of your team, and figure out how you were going to keep a cool head spending so much time working with Poe.

With a heavy sigh, you glanced at the clock and decided a late lunch was in order, hopeful that the weird hour would leave the caf quiet. Although you knew you’d be recognized you did hope to push that off for as long as possible.  

You needed to swallow back your feelings and face the fact that you weren’t just working directly for General Leia. You were back on D’Qar; a planet that Charlie had spent enough time on, even before you joined Gold Squadron, to make lasting friendships and leave an incredible reputation behind after he’d died. You hadn’t been back since the funeral, so it was inevitable that others would be bringing him up, asking after you, where you had disappeared to, why you’d left without saying goodbye to pretty much everyone.

You needed to suck it up because you had a job to do and your work for the Resistance was the only thing anymore that made your life worthwhile. No family, no close friends, no partners, just fighting the fight and being the best damn pilot you could be.

You wondered if Charlie would be proud of you. Of how far you’d come, of the fact that you were now the same rank as he had been before his death. But after seeing Poe today you knew that wouldn’t have entirely been the case, not with how things all ended up.

So, you reasoned with yourself, that meant that you had to work extra hard here on D’Qar to push aside the history between you and your Commander. And actually, indifference and coldness were probably going to be your best assets going forward.

At least you had a game plan.

Taglist

@mermaidxatxheart

@foxilayde

@eleinemk

@paintballkid711

@mylifeisactuallyamess

@20th-centu-fairy-girl

#reader insert #fanfic #angst #poe dameron x reader #multichapter #poe dameron #night changes series #new chapter #eventual smut #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #poe dameron series #poe dameron x you #poe x reader #poe x you #Oscar Isaac #star wars series #star wars x reader #star wars #poe and bb8 #general leia #leia organa #fem reader #feedback appreciated

[amessywritersmind]

Beating Around the Bush - L.S.

Pairings: Luke Skywalker x reader

Warnings: maybe some cursing but other than that, Just fluff :-)

Summary: Luke meets a daring, charismatic pilot leader he just can’t get out of his head. 

“Hey! (y/n)! Nice flying today!” Your bestfriend Biggs laughs out as the hatch on his x-wing pops open, allowing him to climb down from the pilots seat.

“yeah yeah. Laugh it up chuckles. You know damn well I usually beat you! Today was just an off day.” You faked a pout, crossing your arms across your chest and pushing out your bottom lip as he ruffled your hair. 

“Hey cut it out!” you laughed, pushing his hand away, causing him to swing his arm around your shoulders, beginning to lead you out of the x-wing hanger and towards the common area. 

As the two of you approached, you noticed a large crowd gathered around something...or someone! As soon as you caught a glimpse of white, you rushed towards the group, laughing as you shoved the other Alliance members aside, making your way to the center of the group. 

“(y/n)!” the figure exclaimed, the person you’d been hoping to see here the most. 

“Leia!” You said, rushing forward and flinging your arms around the princess.

“You’re safe! You’re back! I knew you’d be ok!” You nearly cried with joy seeing your bestfriend, safe and sound, back at the base.

You pulled back quickly, giving her a once over to make sure there were no injuries before you began firing questions at her. She was like a sister to you, and you were sick with worry when you’d heard the news that she’d been captured.

“How’d you escape? How’d you get back here? When did you get back here? I was so worried about you! I knew though, I had a feeling you’d be ok-” You started, not pausing for a single breath the whole time. 

“(y/n)! Calm down! I’m ok, I’m here now. “ Leia laughed out, a bright smile on her face at the sight of her chaotic bestfriend. 

“Woah, didn’t know the princess was capable of a smile.” you heard someone mutter under their breath, cutting the happy reunion short. 

You finally moved your line of vision away from Leia, noticing that the crowd had mostly dispersed from around the two of you, save for you, Leia, Biggs, two strange Droids, a Wookie, and two men you’d never seen before in your life. You notice the blonde one of the two in a joyful conversation with Biggs, as if they’d know each other forever, while the other man looked at you and Leia impatiently, having been the one who made the comment. You chose to ignore his snappy tone, sending a smile his way as you look to Leia for an explanation. Leia sighed and rolled her eyes at him before looking back towards you. 

“This is the insufferable Han Solo-” Leia starts.

“Yeah, I’M the one who’s insufferable” Han scoffs out. 

“ - and his partner, Chewbacca. They’re the majority of my rescue party.” Leia explained, sending another glare Hans way for the interruption but not acknowledging it any further. You let out a giggle at their antics. 

“It’s very nice to meet you!” You said cheerfully, sending a wave in their direction. 

Before you could ask any more questions, you felt a gentle tap on your leg. You look down to see the tinier of the two droids beeping at your feet. You bent down slightly, meeting the height of the droid, the smile never leaving your face. 

“Well, hello little guy! What’s your name?” You asked gently. You received your reply in a series of beeps.

“Artoo? I’m (y/n). It’s wonderful to meet you!” You said, shuffling back up after giving the droid a gentle pat, causing him to set off a series of beeps and flashes as he excitedly whirred about at your feet. You laughed at this. 

“And who might you be?” You questioned kindly, turning to the taller, golden droid. 

“Oh my! How rude of me, I didn’t even introduce myself! My name is C3PO human cyborg relations, but everyone calls me Threepio. It’s an honor to meet you Miss (y/n)!” He said, waving his arms around. You laughed at the properness of his speech. 

“Just (y/n) is fine, Threepio. It’s wonderful to meet you as well.” You concluded with a smile. 

You turned back to Leia to see her and Han in another argument, yet again. 

“Alright you two!” You said loudly, laughing at the looks on their faces. 

“As much as I love to see you back and kicking, Princess” You started, mocking Han’s choice of a nickname for her. 

“I really need to go clean up after todays ride. I’ll swing by yours later though? It seems we have some, uh, catching up to do” You giggled quietly, shifting your eyes ever so slightly towards Han. Leia’s face turned red at that, quickly covering it up with a roll of her eye. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say. I’ll see you later.” She mumbled, feigning upset. 

You laughed and turned away from the small group, making your way towards your room, and eventually, the showers, but not before your heard Leia call out behind you. 

“(y/n)! It looks like you have an admirer!” She called. 

You stopped, confused, and turned around, only to see Artoo hot on your heels. 

“Where are you going little guy?” You asked the droid.

He, as he usually does, replied in a series of beeps and whistles. You laughed at his reply. 

“Oh alright. I’ll take you to the repair rooms and get you fixed up, maybe throw in a little a polish. How does that sound?” you suggested. 

“Uh, miss (y/n)? Do you think there’s a possibility that I could maybe get a hot oil bath?” Threepio asks sheepishly. 

“Of course. Let’s go you two. Tell whoever owns them where they are will you? “ You said to the bickering pair across the way. 

“Yeah, sure thing.” Han says dismissively. 

(y/n) spent hours in that repair room, and soon her work on the droids was done. Just as she was finishing up tightening the last loose bolt on Artoo, a voice in the doorway caught her attention. 

“Woah! They look better than new!” A boy, around her age, called to her. 

“Oh my!” She gasped, slightly startled by the voice, dropping her tool on the ground with a loud clank. This caused both of them to break into laughter. She looked up to find the voice belonged to the boy she saw talking with Biggs earlier. 

“Thank you so much for all this! You didn’t have to, really!” He said, taking a step further. At this comment, Artoo whirled and wizzed behind (y/n). 

“You must be their owner! It’s really no problem at all, Mr....” (y/n) trailed off due to a lack of a name for this stranger. 

“Skywalker! Luke Skywalker. You can just call me Luke though..” He stuttered out, suddenly bashful. (y/n) chuckled at this. 

“Well, Luke, like I said. It’s really no trouble. I’ve grown to quite like this little guy!” she said, tapping artoo on the head gently. 

“Plus, you saved the princess didn’t you? My bestfriend is home safe and sound because of you. It really was the least I could do. Now, If you’ll excuse me. I could kill for a shower! It was lovely to meet you Luke!” She called, moving past him to make her way towards the showers.

Over the next few weeks at the base, Luke found himself doing whatever he possibly could to get time with (y/n), learning much about her and becoming quite close with the pilot. He hoped he wasn’t being too obvious, especially when he volunteered for dish duty solely because he knew it was (y/n)’s turn to do the dishes on the base. He hated dishes, but it was worth it.

After dinner, he made his way to the kitchens to complete said chore, finding (y/n) already there. Her hair was braided intricately into an updo, probably Leia’s doing, and she had both her hands submerged in the basin of bubbly water.

Luke sidled up next to her, rolling up his sleeves and beginning to get to work on the dishes. It was silent for a while between the two, though Luke did not miss the tiny smile ever present on her face.

About halfway through their load, (y/n) stopped suddenly, unable to contain her curiosity anymore. 

“Why do you do it, Luke?” she questioned casually, not even sparing a glance in his direction. Luke tensed up slightly, nervous about what she could possibly be asking him about. 

“W-what do you mean?” He coughed nonchalantly, trying his best to seem unphased by her question. At this, she stopped her washing, turning to him with a knowing smile on her face. 

“Why do you keep volunteering for all of these jobs? I know you hate washing dishes Luke. Plus, you’re a hero. You saved the princess! Hero’s don’t have to do common chores like washing the dishes.” she stated, matter of fact like. 

Luke’s face instantly turned red, his soapy hand coming up to awkwardly rub at the back of his neck. 

“well, you see...I um....uhhhh” He scrambled, trying to find the right words as (y/n) turned back to the task at hand, quickly finishing the remaining dishes. 

By the time she had finished and pulled the drain in the basin, Luke was still scrambling for an explanation. 

“Luke” (y/n) called softly, placing a hand on his arm. He stopped his rambling immediately, crossing his arms in an uncomfortable fashion. 

“Its ok!” She laughed out gently, the sound like music to his ears. His face turned a deeper shade of red at this. 

“I like you too, y’know? I thought I was being pretty obvious, but you didn’t seem to be catching my drift.. That’s why I asked that. I just had to make sure. Your reaction was all the confirmation I needed” She admitted, giggling again. A sigh of relief fell from Luke’s lips, not even thinking before he rushed forward and planted his lips square on her own. 

They both pulled back after a moment, dazed by the whole experience. 

“You know, If you wanted to go out with me you could’ve just asked. It would have saved me so much trouble.” Luke stated under his breath, his forehead still pressed to hers.

“I could say the same to you, Mr. Skywalker.” 

#luke skywalker #luke skywalker imagine #luke skywalker imagines #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker one shot #luke skywalker fanfic #luke skywalker fanfiction #star wars #star wars imagines #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #luke skywalker fluff

[primasveraas-writing]

As Family Does - SWR

In snippets, Hera experiences the ups and downs of motherhood, and all the wonderful relationships her son has with family near and so very far away.

WORD COUNT: 2206

XXX

Kanan

A sharp, desperate cry, and Hera’s world changed forever.

Jacen Syndulla was a testament to his parents’ strength long before he came into the world. He emerged bloodied, during battle and war, but the galaxy suddenly recentered itself around this tiny, helpless being.

Hera should have been used to this kind of change by now- in less than a year, her whole life had been broken and reformed in more ways than she could count.

And yet- so much of it was good, Hera thought, as the squirming baby was placed on her chest. This love she felt was so familiar, after carrying her son for 9 months, after loving his father, after being family and foster mother to Ezra and Sabine. She felt it in every cell of her body, so much that it was hard to breathe.

“You did it, Hera,” Zeb said, sounding rather choked up. Hera nodded, numb to the rest of the galaxy, save for her child in her arms, and realized that there were hot tears on her face. She sobbed, her whole body convulsing, and that hurt, but she didn’t care. She’d faced greater pain and been awarded less joy at the end of it all.

The baby wailed again, and Hera gasped- the boy’s eyes had flown open, revealing a clear, vibrant blue. His skin was tinted green and his features were already sharp, sure hallmarks of his mother’s identity but his eyes- they were Kanan’s eyes.

She never thought she’d see them again, and she sobbed harder. Even with the hormone changes that came with pregnancy, it had been a long time since Hera had cried this much. She felt Zeb’s hand on her shoulder and the love in the air. She cried tears of happiness, as new parents do, and tears of sorrow because Kanan wasn’t there to meet his son, nor Ezra to meet his baby brother.

But still- she knew Kanan loved her and he loved their son. She knew Ezra would too, when he came home. Their love was still with her, even if they were not.

That would be enough for now. Hera had her son and her beloved’s eyes, and the love needed to carry her through this and darker days.

Chopper

Hera knew- despite her avoidance of the fact- that Jacen couldn’t stay with her forever. She wasn’t the only one in the Rebellion with a young child, but she was the only general with a newborn. Somewhere in the galaxy, there had to be a safe place for her son, and she would find it. But for now, she kept him the best she could, even if it would only be for the first months of his life.

The fear and the exhaustion of war were heightened by bringing an infant into it. They threatened Hera in her lowest moments, but then there was Zeb, putting Jacen back to sleep in the middle of the night before she could get out of bed, or Kallus quietly filling out her rising piles of paperwork when she was too busy or too tired to do it herself.

It was okay- a new challenge, a new routine, and an ever-constant show of their resilience. She witnessed love and community in all parts of her life, from her kid pilots offering to babysit, to the Organas sharing some old baby toys and clothes. Even the most unlikely of figures rallied around her, and for that, Hera was grateful. Sometimes, she would even have time to herself.

One of these calm afternoons was spent completing mission reports while Jacen slept, which Hera boldly presumed would last long enough for her to catch up on everything she had to do. As soon as she dared to hope this, however, a mechanical whirr indicated the presence of Chopper- and serenity rarely, if ever, followed him.

Where is the new one? He asked, disregarding the fact that Hera was very clearly busy.

“The new one- you mean Jacen?”

He’s new. Her droid was very matter-of-fact about this statement.

“He’s a baby, Chop,” Hera amended, and the astromech beside her warbled in disagreement.

He has not been around very long. He has not done many things either. Therefore, he is new.

“Whatever you say.”

Chopper didn’t humor her further, only groaned in complaint, and waited for a response. Hera rolled her eyes, but obliged. “He’s down for his afternoon nap. Same as yesterday. Why?”

She received no reply, other than a broken lament that the little one took too long to recharge, then her oldest companion rolled off and out of sight. Hera sighed and turned back to her work.

Later, Hera glanced at the chrono and readied herself for her son’s cries, but the Ghost remained silent and lonely. She crept down the room towards the pilot’s quarters, the door still open so that she might reach Jacen faster. Perhaps she would find him still asleep, and she could clean or shower with the extra few minutes to herself.

She instead discovered her baby wriggling happy on his cot, Chopper looming over him. One of his mechanical arms was extended, dangling Jacen’s favorite tooka in front of him. Chopper made gentle sounds, and Jacen grinned up at him.

So Chopper had a heart, beyond the occasional moment of mercy. Hera hid her mouth with her hand, ignoring the wetness in her eyes, and watched the scene from the doorway.

Zeb

It might not have been fair to blame a baby for picking favorites before he could talk, but Hera still shook her head as Zeb passed back Jacen, who wailed the second he left the Lasat’s arms. Zeb chuckled at the reaction, scratching at the back of his neck, but shrunk instantly at Hera’s glare

“Aw, com’on,” Zeb tried while Jacen furiously kicked against Hera. “He doesn’t mean anything by it. Nobody holds a candle to ya, Hera.” He finished the statement rather ungracefully, as Hera relinquished Jacen, plopping him back in Zeb’s arms. As soon as she did, Jacen giggled, clutching at Zeb’s fur and gurgling happily, his woes entirely forgotten.

“You’d think he’d be a little more grateful to the one who feeds him,” Hera said dryly, regarding Jacen with her hands on her hips. Zeb shrugged, looking vaguely sheepish.

“I’m just softer than ya, that’s all,” Zeb assured her, snuggling Jacen against his chest. When Hera raised an eyebrow at him, he laughed in surprise.

“Lasat kits like to sleep on their parents,” he explained, “but some of us like to say that they prefer the Lasat with the longest and softest fur.”

“Well, you certainly have me beat there,” Hera conceded, and Zem hummed in agreement, rocking Jacen in his arms. He babbled cheerfully, and Zeb laughed again. “Maybe nobody holds a candle to Uncle Zeb, either,” she said, her tone hushed, and Zeb froze. “We’re both lucky to have you.”

Zeb didn’t say anything for a long moment, then he shifted Jacen to one side and slung his free arm around Hera’s shoulders. She leaned into the embrace, and Zeb pulled her closer.

“We’re family,” he said gruffly, his voice suspiciously thick. “Of course I’ll take care of you both.”

The admonition sent warmth flooding through Hera’s chest, and she sniffed. That was what she’d count on through it all- her family and their love, unfaltering.

Sabine

Each of Jacen’s milestones- his first smile and wave and babble of a word- came with the reminder that Kanan wasn’t there to witness them too. Her son had just started to lift his own head when the anniversary of his father’s death passed, and Hera realized with grief weighing on her heart that even the idea of Kanan would be unfamiliar to Jacen for the first years of his life.

Her sorrow at the fact that “Dada” wouldn’t be among Jacen’s collection of first words (which included “Mama,” “ship,” “no!” and “Chop”) was expressed to Sabine during an exhausted and teary conversation. Together, they concluded that Kanan would have made a great dad, if he didn’t collapse from the stress while doing it, and the two women held each other until the talk turned back to recollecting fond memories at laughter at what once was.

In one of the biggest shocks of Hera’s life, the grief became lighter and easier to carry. She knew it would never leave her, but at least she didn’t bear it alone.

When Jacen turned one, she declared it a happy occasion and resolved not to spend too long dwelling on those not present to celebrate with them. There were still wistful smiles and comforting hugs, but as luck would have it, she had Zeb, Alexsandr, Rex, and Sabine all with her to mark the occasion, and that was a happy blessing on its own.

Jacen destroyed the small cake Alexsandr had made for him with pudgy fists, smearing it all over his face and onesie. Hera laughed, trying not to think of the possibility of finding uneaten food in Jacen’s diaper again, and their small family celebrated, and it was good.

They exchanged presents before everyone had to return to their respective duties. Mother and son received a collection of toys and bigger clothes, and Hera was even gifted a nice bottle of wine for her to enjoy after surviving a year of motherhood.

At the end, when it was just her and Sabine sweeping crumbs off the floor of the galley, the young Mandalorian presented her a final gift. An intricately bound book, made from sketch flimsi and filled with page after page of illustrations. It told a story, in few words and in brilliant, dynamic colors, of a Jedi, a hero, on quests to make the galaxy a better place. The Jedi wielded a blue lightsaber, and although he could be grumpy, he was deeply loyal to his friends, and he always came in to save the day. His face was unmistakable, his demeanor kind and familiar.

“So Jacen can know his dad,” Sabine said, and her voice was carefully measured. “I never thought I’d illustrate a kid’s book.”

Hera had no words, so she threw her arms around Sabine instead, murmuring her thanks through her tears. Sabine accepted the hug, squeezing Hera just as tight, and they stayed that way for a long while.

Ezra

Jacen grew and grew until he no longer fit in her arms- or rather, he wiggled out of them every time Hera tried to pick him up. He started to beg to learn how to fly as the war drew to a close but it wasn’t until after the Battle of Endor that Hera felt the skies were safe enough for her son.

Sabine teased her that Jacen inherited his recklessness from both sides of the family. Hera couldn’t bring herself to disagree, but she looked around at her friends and family- Mandalorians and Lasats and spies and galactic heroes- and thought that her child’s thrill-seeking tendencies came more from his company rather than his blood.

The conclusion of the war didn’t mean the end of the fighting, but peace was at last on the horizon and her fellow rebels begun planning their lives in this new, free galaxy. Hera could be a mother full-time now, and not have to worry if each goodbye to her son would be her last.

She thought that this would mean fulfillment- and in many ways, it did. The galaxy was entering a new age, but there were too many things left behind for Hera to move on completely. Much of it, she would never get back- but for some, there remained hope of rescue.

She saw so much of Ezra in Jacen. His energy, for one, and his innocence. His optimism, too- Jacen was a happy baby and nothing short of an ebullient child. Hera and Kallus liked to joke that his smile could light up the galaxy. It was impossible, when gazing into Jacen’s blue eyes, not to see the hope and love of another boy who once looked to her as a mother. They had so much in common, these children of war, but their biggest similarity was those who loved them.

Sabine was the first one to teach her the bittersweet pride of a child leaving the nest, and she came to Hera again to tell her that she must go. Hera had fear and love and faith for her, but little surprise when Sabine promised to bring Ezra home. With a blessing and a plea to stay safe, she hugged Sabine tight and watched her set off into the galaxy again.

When evening fell, and Hera was alone again, Jacen approached his mother and snuggled into her arms. As much as she tried to protect her son, he always seemed to know when she was sad.

Hera didn’t think that she’d ever be complete without Kanan, without Ezra, without everyone she’d lost in a lifetime at war. But she was not alone, she knew- she had her son in her embrace and a family in every corner of the galaxy. That, for now, was enough, and she had hope that she would see them all again one day.

#hera syndulla #kanera #jacen syndulla #star wars rebels #swr #sw rebels #swr fanfic #kanera fanfic #sw rebels fanfic #star wars #star wars fanfic #sabine wren #zeb orrelios #rebels #rebels fanfic #star wars fanfiction #hera syndulla fanfic #fluff

[mandos-lightningbeforethunder]

Start Again - Chapter Nine (Din Djarin x Reader)

SUMMARY: On their trek through the canyon to find their bounty, Din learns more about the girl than he had previously known and contemplates how she managed to survive everything she's been through. Of course, as he's learned from his time with her, they can never have peace in their search for the truth. 

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Discussion of sterilization, a brief discussion of forced pregnancy, discussion of childbirth, and blood loss mention. 

Author’s Note: Wow, long time no see. Life's been busy so I apologize for the severe lack of updates, I've been focusing on getting back into the workforce as well as the school semester starting up. I've also hit a major roadblock with writing and in the meantime, I've taken a step back so I'm not forcing myself or producing lackluster content. However, I'm excited to give you all this chapter! I hope you all enjoy it! 

CHAPTER NINE - A STRANGER ARRIVES

Ka’rta. Mando’a for heart. The girl had a lot of heart.

Din hadn’t let it show, but the news of her diagnosis had hit him hard. The Empire had tortured her beyond belief, if her nightmares weren’t evidence enough, the scars he saw when she was sedated had told him enough. They took her son away, wiped her mind in the process, and then left her for dead. If that wasn’t enough, they forcibly sterilized her.

“They sterilized her not long after they discovered she wasn’t the one with force-sensitive capabilities.” Dr. Orn informed him. Underneath his helmet, Din frowned at the doctor’s words. A part of him grew angry, angry at the idea that since the girl was no longer of use to them, they’d toss her away. Din was disgusted.

“What you’re saying is…is that they removed her ability to have any future children because she couldn’t produce a child with abilities?” Din’s mouth tasted like bile.

“It was their belief that the child’s father was the one who passed the traits onto his son, not her.” Dr. Orn frowned at him, possibly having the same thoughts of how vile the Empire was. “Although, had they decided to—” Din held up his hand and stopped Dr. Orn’s words.

It was enough. Basic genetics explained that even if the mother didn’t carry the trait, as long as the father did, there was a chance a child with the Force would be born. Din couldn’t even comprehend the idea of the Empire forcibly impregnating her like some breeding farm.

Instead, they remained ignorant of actual genetics and because they couldn’t breed her like a kriffing animal, they removed any ability to ever have her own children. If she couldn’t produce more force-sensitives, then why let her have any more children at all.

Deep down, Din knew of the atrocities committed by the Empire but what they did to her, made him feel physically ill.

He had felt numb hearing the news. How she managed to carry herself afterward Din didn’t know. How she even managed to put up a fight in their training session he didn’t know. It made him question everything he had known about the universe. To endure that pain and continue on, Din had hardly met anyone stronger than that.

The strength she had displayed, wielding the sticks as if they were true weapons, coming at him with all her might, even if it meant she’d meet the ground again. Briefly, he had taken pleasure in sweeping her off her feet, just to see her get annoyed. He wanted to see what her reactions would be. He hadn’t expected much out of her, especially considering the news she had received earlier. After the second time, he could tell she was vibrating with anger, ready to come at him. It was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Followed by a few successful hits and a near kick and Din found himself almost proud of her. With time, she’d come into fighting naturally.

“I know the view is pretty, Mando, but I think we have a bounty we need to find,” Her voice makes the memories of last night fade and he chuckles.

“Patience,” He murmurs, putting the last of the supplies together in his pack. He knew she was eager to get moving, the motivation to find a possible clue in her past driving her.

An ex-Imperial, trying to lay low in a post-Empire universe. The New Republic had been searching for him but after months with no news or record of him being alive, they presumed he must’ve been killed at the end of the war. The New Republic had bigger things to worry about. Orus, still running off its own government, didn’t believe any Imperial to be dead. The droid had made it clear that no Imperial was believed to be dead unless you killed them yourself.  

Opseg law enforcement pushed out the supposed ‘dead’ bounties like clockwork, and apparently, it wasn’t too hard to find them. Din had seen the holoprojectors displaying successful hunts, it was safe to say that the Opseg agency expected the same from him and the girl. It seemed clear from the data that plenty of ex-Imperials or sympathizers found themselves on Orus, hoping that the planets bustling city life would offer a decent cover to start a new life.  

Din pulled a vibroblade out of his boot, testing the weight in his fingers before he hands it to the girl. Her eyes widen in shock but she carefully takes it into her hands. The blade was one of Din’s firsts when he had first started with the Guild. Before he had found himself more comfortable with blasters and pulse rifles, Din had been more into close combat and the use of knives. After their brief training session last night, it was clearer that while he was a long-distance fighter, the girl was suited for close combat.

“You trust me?” She asks, glancing at it as she studies the hilt and the blade itself. Din had managed to keep it in decent condition even throughout these years, maintaining it despite its lack of use.

“I do,” Din says, watching as her eyes light up. “I think you’ll be able to handle yourself out there and if not, I’ll be there to catch you.”

“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs, admiring the build of the vibroblade. Holding the hilt in the palm of her hand, she takes a few practice swings with it, moving with precision. The rays from the suns beam onto the blade, glittering off her face.  

“It’s also dangerous, so be careful.” Din reminds her and she nods, tucking the blade away.

“So,” she sighs, “What’s so special about this bounty other than being an ex-Imp? Seems to me that everyone was working for the Empire at some point in their life.”

“He’s an ex-Imperial officer. Higher up, not indoctrinated like Stormtroopers, so he was well aware of what the Empire was doing.” Din responds, tossing his bag over his shoulder.

“And you said he might know about what happened to me?” She asks, her voice tilting towards a hopeful tone. He doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but the research he had done on the bounty told him enough.

No identifying information on the ship he worked on, but with the blanks in his information, it was safe to say that whatever he did work on, the Empire didn’t want it getting out. After the war, most of it had been erased and all that was left was bits and pieces. An officer, overseeing prisoners of the war. Din had concluded that he had to at least know about what happened to the girl. She wasn’t just someone captured to rot in a cell for the rest of her life. She had some importance to them; they stole her son from her and wiped her memories. All the more reasons to find out the truth from this bounty.

“It’s a possibility. He oversaw a lot of the prisoners. There’s a chance he knew about you. Or your case, at the very least.” He replies, watching as she takes in the information.

“How soon do we have to bring him in once we find him?” She says. She’s quiet now, looking to the horizon of Opseg.

“A day or so, maybe. They incentivize you to bring the bounty in early for more credits.” He answers and she merely hums. A conflict of emotions washes over her face. There’s a question she’s too afraid to ask, unsure if she would receive the answer she was seeking.

“Will he give us information?” Right on target. Din’s not sure what to give her. Could they torture him for information? Sure, maybe the Opseg law enforcement wouldn’t question it. Would he even have any information? Again, Din did not know for sure. He wouldn’t mind getting his hands a little dirtier for the sake of information the bounty may have on the girl.

“I don’t know,” he answers instead, watching as she frowns. Not exactly the answer she was looking for then.

Displaying the map of the canyons on Orus, Din pinpoints the bounty’s last known location. He had hidden in the deepest parts of the canyon. It was likely that he had a camp set up and an array of weapons to protect himself. Din wouldn’t be surprised if he and the girl came across a couple of dead bounty hunters in various stages of decay. An Imperial was already a formidable opponent, but an Imperial officer who held a lot of information on the Empire was not a force to reckon with.

Veteran bounty hunters knew better and had expectations. If a bounty were on edge, they’d do anything to protect themselves and their assets. An amateur hunter gets too cocky and the bounty quickly puts them down and moves elsewhere, losing the trail. It was all a matter of survival.

“It’s a bit of a hike,” Din informs the girl, watching her eyes as she scans the projected image. “The droid says he’s been hiding out here for the past few weeks. He moves around after a new set of hunters come after him.”

A blinking dot displays the bounty’s last known position. The girl hums, her mouth set in a hard line as she scans the map once more, seeming to put it to memory.

“He’s getting comfortable. No new bounty hunters in a good month, maybe he thinks they’ve forgotten him,” The girl says, looking to him for confirmation.

“That, or he’s expecting a full force, so we need to be prepared for both. He’s already managed to figure out the schedule of bounty hunter arrivals. Supposedly barricades himself by the time they arrive at his camp. Takes them out and moves locations before a new round of hunters come along.” Din states, clicking through the projector to detail the number of hunters this bounty has killed off.

It’s numbers he hasn’t seen since he had taken the bounty of Fennec Shand with that hotshot bounty hunter, Toro Calican. With Shand “dead” and Calican kidnapping Grogu in the hopes of making a name for himself, Din never wanted to experience anything similar again. This bounty he and the girl had taken up would not come easily.

“He would be smarter if he moved during the downtime of hunters. That way we wouldn’t know his last whereabouts.” The girl says. The light of the holoprojector flickers off her face as Din shuts it off.

“His ignorance will play to our advantage,” Din says, placing the holoprojector in his bag, “it wouldn’t be any easier if he did decide to move during the downtime.”

Din’s not expecting much, the ex-Imperial has most likely grown comfortable living out in the canyon. Their arrival might come as a surprise, but deep down, Din knows that the bounty will be prepared for a fight. Even if it means toeing with a Mandalorian.

Beginning their trek through the canyon, Din takes the lead for the first hour into the journey. The canyons on Orus are difficult terrain. The course he had set for them was not smooth at all, it was rocky and there were several instances of Din having to pull himself up over a ledge, then pulling the girl up as well.

The faint cry of animals keeps them close to one another, not trusting that the creatures will be welcoming of their presence. Din had already learned the hard way of a welcoming presence. He should’ve expected as much, given that the planet shared a system with Nevarro. The girl, however, keeps the mood light by humming songs native to Puvo. The soft thrum of her voice keeps the hike from being filled with a painful silence, which Din is grateful for.

The hike is peaceful and with the soft hum of the girl, Din relaxes through their trek, allowing himself to admire the planet and the way the vegetation grows despite the lack of sunlight. He still scans his surroundings, keeping an eye out for any potential danger. He studies the shade of the canyon walls that cut off the sunlight even as the planets still grow, fruits hanging off the branches of trees and the leaves of planets greener than he had ever seen before.

The sounds of a running creek pause them in their journey, the girl’s humming coming to a stop as they gather at the edge of the bank. This time the girl’s singing doesn’t fill the silence, just them filling their canteens with the water. Din even watches as the girl leans over and washes the sweat from her face, running her hands down her neck in order to cool herself.  

“I think it’s deep enough to swim.” The girl says, leaning back into the sand after her last drink of the water.

“You think?” Din asks her, watching her as she nods.

“Maybe,” she says, “The creeks on Puvo were shallow, meant for work. Finding an actual source of water that wasn’t meant for work or consumption was difficult, but when I did find one, I managed to get Valara to go with me.” She smiles as she seems to look back on the memories.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been swimming,” Din tells her and she chuckles.

“Not even when you were a boy?” She turns, looking at him. In truth, he can’t remember a time when he was that young, not since before he swore the Creed. When he finds himself trying to look back, the only thing he finds himself remembering is the destruction of his home and the death of his parents.

“No,” he finally says, pulling himself out of his head.

“Castin loved to swim. He wanted to swim before he could even walk. The village thought I was crazy to give him that chance, but he proved them wrong.” She smiles, but he can see the pain in her eyes as she struggles to look back at that particular memory. He knows it’s a painful reminder of what was stolen from her.

“Do you remember them? Your village,” Din supplies. The girl blinks, slowly nodding.

“Parts of them. Faces are a blur but their voices are clear to me. We were a small but tight-knit community. Everyone helped everyone.” The girl glances up at him and smiles. “I can’t remember exact details like friends or family, just Castin and maybe the midwife who helped deliver him.”

“But you don’t remember if you ever had a husband?”

“All children were loved regardless of if their parents were married or not. But, no, I don’t remember him if he were to exist at all.”

Din feels peace when she answers that she doesn’t remember. A part of him hopes that there wasn’t any partner involved, that way she could only focus her attention on Castin. She didn’t need another heartbreak if she were to ever find out the truth of what may have happened to her village. If there had been a husband, would he have been killed off by the Empire? Was he still alive?

“I do remember the pain of bringing him into the world. It was a difficult birth.” The girl interrupts his thoughts. “The healer had monitored me throughout the entire pregnancy, I knew going in it was high-risk.”

“High-risk…” Din pauses, “Like, dying?”

“Yes,” she sounds calm when she answers. He supposes that the discussion is no longer painful since she survived the ordeal and is here now. “I was in labor for several hours. I nearly died. The midwife said there had been a lot of blood…they couldn’t stop it. I remember telling her his name, but truthfully, I wasn’t sure if he had died. It was chaos.”

Din watches her as she examines the flow of the water, tracing her fingertips above the surface. In the time they had spent together, he found himself learning more about the number of times she had faced death even before the Empire had its grasp on her. Even before her son had been born, it seemed fated that one of them would die.

“State your business.”

Dank farrik. Din was tired of being snuck upon.

He and the girl turn, facing the source of the voice. A masked man with a rifle stands in front of them. The upper half of his face remains covered, only the lower half displaying his displeasure with seeing them here. He’s also wearing armor, but it’s not like beskar. The barrel of the man’s weapon points at the girl and at this close of range, she would not survive the shot.

“The public is not barred from traveling within the canyons.” Din responds, watching as the man shifts his stance, the barrel of the rifle moving to point at his chest plate.

“The public population knows not to travel these canyons. Only outsiders take that chance, so I’ll say again, state your business.” The man snarls, the barrel of his rifle swiveling to focus on him. The blast wouldn’t pierce the beskar, but Din wasn’t about to take that chance.

It’s not a blaster rifle, the closer Din studies it. It’s a stun gun, meant to temporarily incapacitate rather than go for the kill. Why this rifleman, clearly upset, didn’t have his rifle set to kill, Din didn’t know.

“Bounty work. Sent by the Opseg law enforcement.” Din states, his hand settling on his hip just above the blaster in his hip holster.

The sky is a soft shade of blue with light cloud coverage. Din doesn’t remember looking up at the sky but as he struggles to move his limbs, he understands why. The rifleman had shot him. Someone’s screaming. It’s the girl.

“Relax, sweetheart. He’s not dead.” He can hear voices, muffled as his vision blurs.

#start again #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #Din Djarin/Reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin/you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian/reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian/you

[melonsmessymusings]

Just seen a post about S6&S3 parallels and @rachaeljurassic made some super interesting points in the tags about Giles’ departure and how INFURIATING it is that I really want to expand upon, so I guess this one’s for you :) I get it, the mentor figure needs to be gotten out of the way in order to progress Buffy’s own arc, that’s fine. It narratively makes complete sense, but it was handled badly.

@rachaeljurassic suggested that maybe we could’ve gotten him out of the way with a coma. I vibe with that. Let’s have the head injuries catch up to him and have him totally incapacitated. Big battle, dire injuries, that works. We could still have Buffy spiralling after, but this time she’d be blaming herself because Giles got hurt as a result of her being the Slayer (even though he’d never blame her for it and it isn’t her fault except for like twice). That also works better because it would be more in character than having Giles go “I know you can’t even breathe right now but I’m gonna flake because you need to be a grown up. Even though when I was your age I was raising demons, doing dr*gs and having orgies so like lmao.” Plus, have a couple of gratuitous scenes of a very injured Giles being visited by someone to pepper throughout the season that were pre-recorded so we don’t get confused as to why they wouldn’t be sat there with him at least every now and then to make us cry. Imagine a scene with Buffy in a hospital room watching a ventilator force air into her Watcher to keep him alive and pouring her heart out because she’s terrified with no idea what to do and he always knew and she needs him and just cries. You could even have it where he’s like slowly deteriorating or something and Dark!Willow uses her magic to cure him so that would explain how he just got better and was like... fine.  

I also love the idea of him having a total breakdown after Buffy’s death. I absolutely thrive off him becoming a completely numb droid (he probably was and only bothered to put on façade for the Scoobies but that’s for another day) and the Scoobies decided it’d be better for him to try and find a new purpose in life by sending him to England. We could’ve had like the first episode of them helping him settle with the Coven or something and it’d have been AWFUL to watch, but it would make sense and then when Buffy gets resurrected, they just don’t tell him and they tell Buffy that the grief killed him or something like that? idk... or having them explain that Giles isn’t Giles anymore and he’s doing better (because Tara gets updates from the Coven) but being in Sunnydale was killing him and they never told him that Buffy was resurrected. That wedges the group dynamic enough tbh and would cause Buffy to turn to Spike because he’d have had no clue about anything except that Giles had gone off the bloody rails big time and it was good he was away from this hellhole. 

Family emergency? Let’s be honest, the Giles family are probably scum so I’d buy that way less but it’s still more convincing than what actually happened. 

Another suggestion was having the Council snatch him. I also adore this. That would make sense. But let’s have them make it look like they killed him because I love that. So they send in a team, take him away but make it look like he’s been completely murdered. 

My idea is that they put a glamour or something on a vampire to make it look like Giles (but the audience don’t know this yet) and so Buffy drops by and finds a body that is in every way identical to Giles in a destroyed apartment and just breaks and is like clutching at him or something and there’s blood and its horrendous. Then you could either have swoopy Council guys come in and take Giles away when he ‘wakes up’ as a vampire because “there’s a procedure to this Miss Summers” or have her stake him herself then and there because after Angelus she’s taking no chances. Could you imagine the emotional payoff of that? She then has to go and tell the others, who don’t believe her but they all see the apartment, bloodstains and pile of dust and they all have to cope with the grief of losing him throughout the season in addition to everything else.

But wait! There’s more. Travers ends the episode with a folder in front of him, a report from the team that carried out the operation and smiles saying something evil like “I warned her of dealing with grown ups” so the audience all thinks that Giles got offed by the Council. 

BUT REALLY Giles was taken and held in a like prison facility thing, very much alive. Then we get like a showdown of Giles chained to a chair in this cell being forced to watch the video footage of the whole operation and Travers telling him that it’s over and his oh so precious Slayer will end up killing herself with guilt/grief and the Council can have a new start because they’re going to off Faith too. And the last shot is Giles crying in a dank hole.

As far as the audience goes: imagine having Giles showing up at the end of S6 if THAT had been the departure? It’s already an “AAAAAHHHHHH HOLY SHIT!” moment but it’d be magnified tenfold. Then Buffy being completely confused because “I killed you!” then having that moment when she ends up hugging him and he’s warm and breathing and not dead. And Dark!Willow being really confused but trying to kill him anyway because if he was alive all this time why didn’t he come back? That’s when we get the scene with Giles watching what happened on the monitor. Everyone is confused and Giles explains that the Council kept him in one of their facilities and now Buffy feels sick because she’s like “they tortured you... for months!” and Giles is like “Well yeah but it’s fine because I’m here now and I’m so sorry for abandoning you all.” Still can have Evil Willow being evil and Xander saving the day. I don’t care that much but we could’ve had this worked in.

Because the Council would’ve tortured him for fun. Not necessarily physically but they would’ve paraded him around as the example of what happens if you don’t toe the line. They could’ve completely humiliated him and it caused like cracks in the Council because some of them hate that Travers is abusing his power like this on one of their own and others finding it good that such a strong message is being sent. At which point, Travers would give the order for the Special Ops team to start the beatings. Of course, Giles is used to having the seven bells kicked out of him, but to be used as a training dummy by other human beings? They’d practice on him and that’s as far as I think the physical side of it would go, the rest would be mental/emotional torture. Or having hexes/curses tested on him and all the while, Giles genuinely wants them to kill him because everyone he cares about already thinks he’s dead so it makes no difference if it’s the reality. All the while, he’s being kept vaguely up to date with the events of Sunnydale so that he can hear how his Slayer is edging closer into just giving up and it breaks his heart. So Giles spent a year either being locked in a cell translating texts or being used as a punchbag to teach the S.O. team how to interrogate people. That’s how I see it going anyway. We could’ve seen like flashbacks of parts of it in S7 or something idk.

That would explain why he’s so distant in S7. Because he was kept prisoner for almost a year by the people who practically raised him (because the Council kind of did) and how that would mess anyone up and the First tormenting him about how he should’ve gone through with any attempts to end it instead of being a coward because Buffy doesn’t need him and she already thought he was dead. 

I dunno if this is actually what you were going for but it’s where my mind went and it would’ve given Tony Head something really juicy to do by playing a slightly crazed version of Giles who freaks out if there’s more than five people in the room because a year of living on your own in the dark drove him mad. He would’ve completely nailed it. Way better than sitting there going, “I’m headed back to England, and I plan to stay indefinitely”. Ugh we were robbed.

#btvs #rupert giles #s6 has a few unforgivable moments and this is one of them #rachaeljurrassic this is for you #sorry im such a crackhead #meta #alternative s6 giles departures #i have an armada of them tbh

[callme--starchild]

I Could Ever Learn How to Love

The 23rd century was something else. With buildings that reached up to the sky, others that were literally in the sky, droids roaming the streets and living among the citizens, and even the flying cars that were expected by those science fiction movies plowed through the clouds.

But in Odin Eidolon's mansion, it seemed that time had stopped. With the man facing a window reaching the ceiling, his gaze was fixed on the Eidolon Garden. Several passers-by were walking, either alone, as a family or as a couple, or simply with a pet keeping them company while police watched the area.

And Odin couldn't help not frowning. So many people that he has seen born, grow and die, simply living their lives without knowing the eye in the sky that saw for the common welfare of the city. Contrary to popular belief, he did not mind that people were ignorant of his presence; he liked to be discreet — unless the situation required otherwise, he either had to deliver a droid or make a donation; he cared for everyone and had no preference for any. And since he was secretly an android with a literal artificial intelligence as conscience, no one had to worry that he was okay.

This is how things should be. He was the millionaire — millennial — businessduck of the XXIII century that saw for the common good even without expecting anything in return. Since the twentieth century, that's how things had been: his old friend ... and he against the world, facing Evronians and putting aside the tirades against the guardian of the city — and the galaxy, he would proudly acclaim — as if they were tiny particles of dust.

But everything had changed since 2188, and now he had an image to maintain: no one could get too close to Odin because it was knowing that he was not what he appeared to be, no one could get close because it was knowing that the great and powerful Odin Eidolon had a gentle side. Nobody could get close because it was to become fond of someone, someone most likely very mortal, someone who would not last forever unlike him–

"Odin" no one, unless they shared the same vestiges of immortality as him, for exactly the same reasons even if that was his best-kept secret "you felt it too, right?"

And of course, as someone who has dealt with time-related issues in a very personal way, it wouldn't take long for Lyla to know what was different about the timeline. And as someone she knew long before Odin Eidolon, he knew that he could trust her. That is why he had specifically asked her to come to her mansion, even if it was with the vague excuse of needing her to deliver a message from him.

Still, he couldn't help but straighten up, rearranging his jacket and securing his expression in the reflection in the window. One of the downsides of being a droid is that, unlike the sphere in which he could modify his appearance, his features were more vivid, and now anyone could see how melancholy or frustrated it made him think of the past just by looking at his face.

"To tell the truth, I doubt that someone 'tinkering' with space-time did not go unnoticed by the best time officer," he commented with a sure smile taking place on his face, a great contrast to the Odin who a few moments ago was thinking about what was once. In his reflection, he saw Lyla's face over his shoulder and the way she smiled even if she did so with a raised eyebrow.

They had never discussed the hypothetical case of Lyla knowing the true identity of Odin, much less after PK's last visit to the XXIII century, and even if they did, something in which his words were kept honest was the esteem he held for the droid and her capabilities.

Not only because it was a creation of his industries, but because after years of adventures with a certain duck with or without the mask, he knew what she was capable of; like a father being proud of his child, strange as the comparison was when neither of them were exactly biological.

"They've already sent a squad to investigate, they'll send a report as soon as they get to the bottom of all this," she commented as she removed her jacket, revealing the dark pinkish suit of herfourth. Her hair was honestly a mess, indicating that she had come in a hurry as soon as she sensed the alteration in the story.

It was one of the few things that would never change no matter how many centuries passed, and while it was not something outlandish or very shocking, as someone who had seen so much since his inception, it would not be a surprise if Odin came to have a preference for simplicity. What would be normal or surprising for someone who has already seen it all, after all?

"Meeting the Time Police, it won't take long." But even if there was sincerity in the words, there was no room for doubt in the way his voice grew distant, finally turning to face the android, being his footsteps all that could be heard on the marble floor as he approached the couch closest to Lyla, whose expression had become more thoughtful, not to mention uncomfortable.

"This is not the first time the flow of time has been altered recently…" she commented, her voice softening as her fingers began to fiddle with one of her loose strands of hair, her free hand combing it as calmly as if it had never been rowdy in the first place "does the Timephoon sound familiar to you?"

It sounds familiar. Why does it ring a bell if he didn't remember being activated when that happened? The truth is that his memory did not recall any data of that event, or find a record that indicated that that event really happened, but he did not think he could say something to Lyla without giving any clue of who he really was.

Confusion must have been evident on his face because Lyla looked distant for a few seconds, her shoulders slumping with an emotion Odin could not describe.

"We are not supposed to disclose the details of our investigations, but there is something that worries me, and you are literally the only non-cop and person of this time that I can trust." Given the uncertainty in the words of the droid, Odin looked up again, arching an eyebrow. A part of him had been stirred when Lyla referred to him as a person, but at least he had the privilege of knowing that Lyla had the same trust in him as he had in her "but based on this, it appears that both incidents occurred in the XXI century."

Paperinik. Hero. Donald. Wow, he hadn't thought of the mere name in a long time, and just doing so awakened old previously buried feelings.

"Fortunately everything went well," Lyla added quickly, sensing Odin's concern; and though it ultimately calmed the businessduck's cravings a bit, he could not be reassured by the idea that he still lived risky alongside his uncle, no matter how capable he was of taking care of himself.

But it couldn't be like that, right? He was a young adult the last time they saw each other as Donald and Uno and he shared his dream of sailing the seas in his own boat or forming his own band, The Three Caballeros, and leaving behind that life of adventure to which he was typecasted to. Odin was aware that more than a century had passed since then, but he still had such information in his cloud; and it was Donald, the most stubborn duck he had ever met — technically the only duck he had ever met; it would make sense for him to be more independent now,

right?

But it was not like that. Even if Donald was technically more dependent on himself, he still stayed under Scrooge's roof, risking his life as if it were a piece of cake for him — which was true, considering what he lived through day to day as a superhero, but his nephews–

The nephews. What would become of them?

"Surely it must be strange to receive this news so suddenly, but you are one of the few who are still present after the departure of PK; I haven't heard from The Raider after his retirement, and I doubt I had the same confidence in him as he does in us" another good point.

"If it weren't for the fact that time travel is still unstable, I'd see a way to go there personally to make sure everything is fine. It is not the first time that such an abrupt change has occurred, much less on two almost consecutive occasions."

But it could not be. Because since the micro-contraption and the change of the Police's department, traveling through time had become a suicide mission. Even Donald Paperinik knew that stabilizing him again was a matter of time and patience.

Knowing which one leftover for one or both was the mystery.

"I bet they'll figure it out," Odin said with an expression so radiant that he left Lyla blinking multiple times, "if there's one thing that characterizes the Time Police, it's that they never give up."

And that was a fact for both of them, and she couldn't help but smile with a tiny bit of determination. Lyla could remember all the misadventures she'd had as a policewoman with Paperinik, usually affected by his clash of ideas with the officers'. But Odin cleared his throat before sitting down on the couch, disturbing the droid's thoughts.

"Maybe," she confirmed, taking a place next to the businessman, entwining her fingers in her lap with a thoughtful expression, humming as her gears worked, "…but I won't be able to do it alone."

As if on cue… which it was basically, Odin looked up, meeting Lyla's questioning eyes. It must have meant a lot to her, or she must be advanced enough that her gaze said what her voice box did not, so vivid that it reminded him of the times when Donald refuted about the humanity in them.

Quite ironic, considering they were anything but human.

"Are you sure? It could be risky" and although he knew it wasn't a possibility, Odin wouldn't know how to explain to PK why Lyla's move was made.

Especially because it meant that he would have to accept it himself, he would have to accept that he once again lost someone whom he held dear and esteem.

And though there was that same hesitation in the droid's eyes, Odin still sensed that determination that characterized her.

"I thought what you liked best is that we didn't give up," she scoffed, though it was clear that she wasn't doing it out of pettiness. Especially since Odin detected that bit of doubt that he rarely saw in the attractive robot. "Also, as much as it pains me to accept it, it's not exactly a fact. I like this time, and I appreciate your company, but I don't belong here..."

Oh yeah. The certainly selfish desire to go home. Donald had explained it to him once, and even now he couldn't quite understand it. And after all that she had been through in both eras — it's not like he knew, it was natural for Lyla to think of that time as her home.

Well, there were already two. Seeing Anxieties wasn't the same with no one complaining about his merely scientific interest in it.

Oh.

"Well, we won't achieve anything by standing idly," he concluded, delighting in Lyla's pleasantly surprised gaze, "we should check first that the micro-contraption..."

Sure, it wouldn't be easy. No one said it was, and the 23rd century did not have all the answers, no matter how surprising technological advances were compared to three centuries ago.

But after meeting PK and facing the way he had changed by being reactivated for the first time deactivated, he knew that he couldn't leave his friend behind when the mere possibility was present.

He could tell that a long time had passed since then. But unlike him, she could go home. with Donald. As much as he wanted someone who shared the same vestiges of immortality as him, it wasn't fair for her to keep her pigeonholed into the 23rd century when she had just expressed that she didn't belong there — otherwise, where would be the freedom of the droids that he had fought so hard for?

Who knows, surely the return of time travel would mean that she could visit him, and they could talk about… who knows, only time could tell.

Poor Odin, he didn't know how wrong he was.

"Family," Donald cleared his throat, his shoulders partially tense before extending both arms to Uno, showing off with years of restrained pride, "this is Uno. Uno, this is my family..."

Before repeating the same gesture, and no one missed the way Uno's expression had softened. How not do it when Donald gave him his million-dollar smile and stars literally shone in his eyes?

It was an expression that he dedicated only to him, when the adrenaline of heroism had already run out and it was only them in the Tower, talking about everything and nothing with Anxieties playing in the background. And he didn't know how much he had missed it. for all these years. Not to mention how clear it was that he was hiding his emotion from them.

Della literally kept her gaze scrutinizing him, analyzing his every move as he stood with some power, a mocking smile crystal clear on his face. If he didn't know better, surely his partner would compare him to that cousin Gladstone of whom he spoke so much with disdain, and the idea was funny and ironic.

Scrooge? He could still recognize him, how could he not when the most obvious change in his appearance, despite the years clearly elapsed, was the color of his coat and spats? Sure, he looked different than in that photo Donald had shown him in that boat of his, and his shoulders were slumped with weariness.

Though it was not the same exhaustion that Old Cape reflected in his posture.

What attracted Uno's sensors most, however, were the new additions to the family, four children whose undivided attention was on him, and it didn't take long for him to identify them with the information his partner had given him.

Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby. Certainly lovely that their names — or nicknames, as he had assured him — rhymed.

"One Ducklair, Donald's old friend." He held out his hand, maintaining a certain formality that it puzzled his friend if his nervous snort said something. It was obvious how much he had improvised with the name. However, even if he didn't put it into words, to him the sailor was like an open book, and he could feel how new it was for both of them him to hear him without a voice modulator.

However, in front of his scanners, he saw nothing but Donald injured, physically or emotionally.

Magic ice.

Comments on his voice.

Feathers.

The fights at school.

Cookie.

All the times Donald came to the tower with fire on his sister and his uncle on the tip of his tongue.

Hospital.

Every night he spent in the tower after a heated argument with Scrooge.

Dry blood and untreated scars.

Tears that shouldn't be there.

In front of him, there were only the people who had caused so much damage to the most important duck for him, be it involuntary or not. And now that he had a more lively body and features, he knew it wouldn't be long until his disgust was evident.

But for now, he would have to keep his guard down. The last thing he wanted was to cause trouble for his partner, as tempting as it was to tell Scrooge and Della their truths.

After all, it wasn't the first secret he had to hide.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

It will be fun while it lasts.

#el's fanfiction #one more wish au #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #paperinik #duck avenger #ducktales fanfiction #ducktales au #alternate universe #odin eidolon #lyla lay #uno #uno pkna #donald duck #della duck #scrooge mcduck #uno is a protective lil ai

[agntofhydra]

Sawbones

summary: Red String of Fate Soulmate AU 

Soul mates have a red thread tied to each others pinkies that only one of them can see. 

You're the Resistance's head medic. You can see the red thread of fate that leads you to your soulmate. Poe doesn't believe in the soulmate / thread theory. You don't agree with his tactics, nor does he approve of yours. Leia and Holdo just really want a win. 

pairing: poe dameron x reader

rating: mature for later chapters

read me on ao3!

SAWBONES

ONE // TANGIBLE

You’d never given much thought to it, too many other obligations and priorities took precedence over where exactly that small, red thread tied around your pinky led. 

When you weren’t completely swamped, however, you’d like to see how far your eyes could follow the trail until it seemed to fade, yet still pulled taught by whomever was on the other end. You’d find yourself atop one of the many hills in D’Qar, wishing it was tangible, wishing you could actually pluck and feel the twang of the vibrations across the string. Maybe they could feel it too, wherever they were. They could be anywhere. The galaxy was infinite, and it was slim that people ever discovered their soulmate. Only one could see it, the other one blind until they had developed feelings for the other. 

A mechanical whir knocked you out from inside your head. A meddroid was standing to your left, waiting for you to take the chart from its grasp. 

“Sorry, FX-7,” you grabbed the stack of papers. 

“Engineer Jasti almost blew their left upper appendage off due to a malfunction in the blaster cannon of the x-wing they were working on,” FX-7 informed you. 

You blinked at the droid. Left arm, you thought. Just say left arm. 

“Bed 5,” the droid finished, walking away. 

Flipping through the pages, though you really didn’t have to because Jasti - along with several other engineers - frequented your medbay. You sighed as you pulled back the curtain. 

“Again?” 

Jasti shrugged. “Blame Dameron. He’s the one who puts these x-wings through hell.” 

You rolled your eyes, checking over the bandaging FX-7 had applied. Satisfied, you gave Jasti a bacta-shot just for good measure. She yelped and you threw the needle in the bin. 

“I’ve had words with General Organa. Is he scouting for First Order intel or is he just taking them out for the fun of it?” 

A snort came from the bed behind you, and you threw back the curtain. Laying in the bed with an arm over his eyes was Yolo Ziff, a pilot in Blue Squadron. Confused, you flipped through the pages in your hand, wondering why you hadn’t seen his name come up. 

“Snuck in here for a few seconds of peace, Doc,” he said, arm still over his eyes. “Dameron’s got us practicing escape maneuvers and barrel rolls until we run out of fuel. Even when I’m out of the seat I feel like I’m still piloting.” 

You audibly scoffed, handing him a small vial of blue liquid to quell his motion sickness. He took it gratefully as you dimmed the light above his bed. 

“The audacity this man has, to have his pilots coming to the med bay just to escape him.” you chewed the inside of your cheeks. “Doesn’t even check on them. I’ve never even met the guy.” 

“I’ve seen him maybe twice,” Jasti interrupted your rambling. “When he’s not in an x-wing, he’s in someone’s room. I think it’s Galen, that sweet holographer this week.” 

“That was the beginning of this week,” Ziff laughed. “She tried to soulmate trick him the other day. He got so pissed he took off into the hills with BB-8 and came back this morning.” 

“Soulmate trick?” You asked. 

“He can’t see the thread,” Ziff explained, arm now by his side and making eye contact with you. “Countless women have tried to convince him they can, and theirs leads to him. He doesn’t trust the concept anymore.”

“Can’t you see your thread, doc?” Jasti said quietly. 

You looked down at your right pinky, following the thread as it cut through the wall, leading to Maker knows where. The small action was an answer in itself and Ziff let out a low whistle. You don’t know how it got out amongst the Resistance base, and right now you wish you could slingshot whoever it came from into Dathomir.

“I’ve never met someone who could,” he said, now sitting up. “Can you just see yours or everyone else’s too?”

Uncomfortable with the topic, you had busied yourself with organizing the vials and beakers in the medicine cabinet between the two beds. 

“Just my own.” 

Both Ziff and Jasti seemed to deflate - just a little. 

“Do you know who yours is? Have you ever gotten close?” Jasti questioned. You locked the cabinet once you were finished and put both your hands in the pockets of your uniform. 

“It sort of disappears after a couple hundred meters…” you shrugged. “I’ve tried to see how long it goes for, but I think I’d need to be in somewhat close proximity to figure it out.”

“How close do you think?” 

“Same planet as least,” you reasoned. “Sometimes, I feel a vibration, a pluck from the string that makes me feel like whoever it is is near. I don’t investigate, though.” 

“Why not?” both Jasti and Ziff said in unison. 

“I’ve got my hands full with injured engineers and runaway pilots,” You replied, grabbing Ziff’s empty vial and tucking Jasti’s chart into the designated spot on the wall above her bed.

 “Get some rest. Both of you.” 

 ✗ ✗ ✗

 Vice Admiral Holdo regarded you with a small smile. Even through the hologram, she put you at ease. 

“I’m at about 35% of max occupancy,” you updated her, reading off your list you’d created only an hour ago with the help of FX-7. “Minor scrapes and injuries, nothing bacta and my steady hands can’t handle.” The corners of your mouth pulled upwards. 

“Thank you for being our most consistent asset, Doctor. Your work is truly invaluable.” 

“One thing, Vice Admiral,” you caught her before she signed off. “I have concerns about the quality of our x-wings and those piloting them. Do these constant missions hold any worth?” You almost winced at your bluntness. Of course, Organa, Ackbar and Holdo herself wouldn’t let Dameron and his squadron joy ride whenever they pleased. Yet, from what you’d heard of Poe Dameron, it seemed as though he could truly get away with whatever he wanted. 

Her soft smile remained. “I’m glad you’ve brought this up,” she began. “We’ve recently come into some intelligence that calls for the creation of a true operation. I would like for you to be in attendance, inform the squadron of any risks and avoidances they should be attuned to.” 

“I will, gladly. When?” 

Upon your response, Leia Organa appeared over Holdo’s shoulder. 

“Whenever you get here. I advise you to walk fast,” Leia said with a wicked smile. 

Shaking your head, the hologram disappeared and you quickly buttoned your medical coat, making sure you didn’t have any mystery stains on yourself before beginning the trek through the underground hallway into the meeting room. 

You could hear the murmur of voices amongst the team, and as you entered, you were met with a rather small gathering. A few faces you hadn’t recognized, along with a few pilots, and of course Admirals Ackbar, Organa and Holdo gathered around the central table. Although you had never actually laid your eyes on him, you knew the man who also occupied the table was the one who had been the talk around D’Qar for months.

Poe Dameron was truly as striking as he was described. His gaze was locked on the planet slowly spinning in the middle of the table until the whoosh of the doors slid open, announcing your entrance. His palms pressed to the table’s edge, he straightened when he saw you, dark eyes making your stomach churn.  The room quieted as you took your place to the left of Holdo, across the table from Poe. 

“You must be the Doctor,” he smiled. His teeth seemed to illuminate the room and you hesitated for a second. A small, split second.

“You’d be correct. And you are…” you trailed off, feigning ignorance. You knew that a man like Poe Dameron was never not known, and you thought he could be knocked down a peg or seven. 

“Poe Dameron,” his hands folded behind his back. “Black Squadron Leader. We haven’t had the pleasure,” he lifted an eyebrow. “Yet.”

“No, we haven’t,” you responded, disregarding his innuendo. “I have, however, met several of your pilots. I wish the circumstances weren’t in the environment of my medbay.” 

Poe furrowed his brow at that, and you stopped yourself from widening his eyes from the realization that he wasn’t aware of his pilots basically hiding from him by coming to her med bay, feigning illness or just needing a quiet place to rest. This either meant that Poe was completely oblivious to the fact that he was working his pilots too hard, or didn’t care and wasn’t too happy with the fact that they’d sought you out before or after flights. 

Some leader, you quipped in your head. 

“I’m glad you could join us on such short notice,” General Organa said with a knowing smile. You nodded politely and Ackbar increased the size of the holograms of information on the table so it was visible to the rest of the room. 

“Our flight squadrons have recovered intel on a possible smuggling ship floating within the orbit of Kessel,” Leia nodded her head towards the planet, the cynosure of the table. “It’s been in our knowledge for a while, and we’d received no information that it didn’t simply belong to a spice smuggler.” 

“Until now,” Poe chimed in. “It’s been stationary, in the orbit of Kessel for too long not to be something, our intel suggests it’s a storage unit or pit stop for the First Order.”

“How do we know it holds something valuable, of interest?” a technician asked. 

“Red squadron and I flew by it last week. No need for there to be sleeping TIE fighters guarding it. I’m assuming the TIE fighters were manned, but off so they didn’t show up on our radars.” 

The technician nodded. 

“So, we aren’t gonna try our hand at the Kessel run?” one pilot muttered to another behind her and she pursed her lips, trying not to let out a chuckle. Especially in Leia’s presence. In all actuality, she’d probably laugh too. 

“What’s your plan?” you asked, eyes locking with Poe’s. You fought to keep the air in your lungs. 

“I take Red and Blue Squadron, and we find out what’s on that ship.”

That wasn’t enough for you. “You take your best pilots, blasters hot - and if it backfires? If you’re met with First Order reinforcements, a Star Destroyer?” Poe narrowed his eyes at you, but you weren’t going to stand across the table and let him flip a coin with lives. You continued.

“What if the ship is just spice?”

Poe clenches his jaw, rolling back his shoulders and you definitely don’t focus on the thick muscle peeking out from his unbuttoned flight suit, veins traveling up from his clavicle to his mandible. You wonder where he’s sensitive - the curve of his neck? His carotid? Maybe it was right under the curve of his mandible. Your mind berated you shortly after your thoughts dissipated for asking. 

“If it’s not? If we uncover invaluable information that could give us the upper hand on those bastards?” 

Carotid, you decide. 

“It seems too hasty,” you defend. “No extraction plan, no real strategy. I’ve heard plenty about you, Dameron. I know you’re good, but are you so good that you can protect all your pilots if it goes sideways? Are you able to abandon the mission without finding out what the ship holds?” 

It’s surprising that Ackbar, Organa and Holdo would let you two bicker this out. However, Holdo and Organa did ask for your presence and your insight, so they couldn’t really object to your extremely plausible concerns. 

“Would you like to hop in a ship and come with? Oversee the operation yourself, Doctor?” Poe said slowly. The edge he gave to your title made your blood burn. Never had someone ever used your title as an insult, made it sound like a slur. It was something you sacrificed everything for. More than he could ever know. 

“I’m sure you’re more than capable of overseeing an operation, Commander.” Two could definitely play this game. “But this isn’t an operation, this is you crossing your fingers and hoping your intel is reliable.” 

“I’d have to agree,” Holdo nodded. Ackbar threw his hands up in exasperation. 

“How are we supposed to gain anything by risking nothing?” He turned to you. Poe smirked at his words. You suppressed yourself from opening glaring at your superior and instead turned your direction back to Poe. 

“You risk these lives, you’re in charge of contacting the families of the fallen. You deal with the fact that it was all your call, despite the glaring fact that you need more information.” You bit the inside of your cheek - hard. It didn’t matter how good Poe Dameron was. The information and operation was too risky, too murky and grey when, for everything at stake, it should be a little more clean cut. 

“These pilots know what they’re risking every time they get in an x-wing. It’s why they joined. Do tell me Doctor, why exactly did you join?”

The tension in the air was so thick, you and Poe were mere centimeters from each other's throats. If he was close enough and you had a scalpel, you no doubt would slash at his. Leia minimized the holograms and cleared her throat. 

“We need to find out what’s on that ship, but I have to agree that we do need more reliable intel. Do some more scouting, more recon, and we’ll reconvene when there’s more to go off of.” She then turned the table off and it seemed that the meeting was over. Poe still held your gaze, his eyes never leaving yours as you sighed. 

“I can’t fix them out there,” you softened. “I can’t help. Understand that.” 

“Then you picked the wrong role,” Poe responded, crossing the table and coming towards you. “If we lose that ship and it turns out to be valuable, all because you want more information, that’s your call.”  

“As much as you may hate it, my judgement was asked for. I won’t apologize for having a conflicting opinion.” 

You swear his gaze flickered somewhere below your eyes before darting back, too quick to realize where exactly he had looked. He swallowed. 

“Neither will I. Pleasure to finally meet you,” he nodded curtly.  

A sharp twang vibrated your smallest finger on your right hand, the thread tied there felt like it was physically being pulled forwards from its resting place at your side. Now, the thread felt tangible. You could feel the cut into your skin, the pressure from the pull. You looked down, following the thread not even a meter away to see it end in a perfect loop tied to the pinky of Poe. 

He wrinkled his forehead as you looked up at him, face flushed pale and blood rushing and pumping so hard it was all you could hear. The room suddenly felt so loud and so small. It felt like you were trapped under Kaminoan waves, fighting for breath, fighting to surface but you were paralyzed. Poe voiced your name in concern and you barely registered it. Swallowing hard, your gaze flickered back down to his left hand that was now reaching up to grip your shoulder. You stepped back before he could make contact. 

“I will see you around, Commander.” 

And with that, you fled the room, all but sprinting to your medbay, your sanctuary, your haven.  You emptied the contents of your stomach in the refresher.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #star wars #star wars sequel trilogy #pre-TFA #soulmate au #red thread soulmates #medic!reader #mine #poe dameron x you #slow burn #red thread of fate