#Datapads are tablets I just decided

[vodika-vibes]

Stealing the Commander Part 2

Introducing Bug! Cody gets a medical exam and realizes that, while not good, his captors aren’t evil either.

Introducing the Feeorin, a race of people who’s homeworld was destroyed thousands of years before the Invasion of Naboo.

“How are you doing, darlin’?” Bug asked as he watched Fira pace from one side of his office to the other, like a caged Aak Dog. He knew that she hated this part of the week. And he knew that she came every week in spite of her hatred of it. He was proud of her. 

Fira scowled at him and continued her pacing. “He’s like me and I hate it.” She suddenly spat out.

Ah.

“Are you disappointed in the Republic?” Bug asked, leaning his weight against the wall as he watched her pace. As much as he wanted to offer her comfort, long experience taught him that she wouldn’t accept it.

She scoffed. “I’ve never had any faith in the republic, Bug.”

“Hm. Are you disappointed in him?”

Fira stilled and rage crossed her face, “I don’t care about him. We should just abandon him near the next Pubbie settlement and be done with this whole situation.”

And there it was.

“Is he undeserving of your specific brand of help?”

“He doesn’t want it!”

“Neither did I.” Bug pointed out, watching as all of the ire drained from Fira’s frame, “Neither did Camma, or Gray. You weren’t half so furious at us.”

“That-you-it’s different!”

“How?”

Fira was silent, but she also wasn’t pacing, which Bug counted as a win. “Look, darlin’, here’s how I see it. You’re mad, spitting mad, because you look at our new guest and it’s like holding up a mirror, right?”

“It’s not.”

“It is. It’s like you’re holding up a mirror and you’re seeing what could have been, had you not escaped Czerka, and it’s pissing you off.” Fira was very still, and was glaring at the wall, which meant he was safe to keep going, “You pity him, and that’s pissing you off too, because pitying him is like pitying yourself.”

“Stop.”

Bug immediately stopped talking and folded his arms across his chest. She allowed him to talk longer than he expected, he would take what he could get with her.

“I don’t. I don’t pity him.” Fira finally said, her voice quiet. “I don’t.”

“Alright darlin’, if you say so.” He might have pushed too hard, now he felt bad. He carefully walked over to her and placed his hand on her head, “Why don’t you go spend some time with Camma? She got a new coloring book she wanted to show off.”

“I need to-”

“You need to center yourself and settle yourself.” Bug interrupted, “Camma’s good for that.”

She stared at him, there was something slightly disjointed in her gaze. “We still have 15 minutes?”

“We do,” Bug lightly smoothed her hair, and placed his hands on her shoulders, “But you’re in a bad place right now, darlin’. You need to settle yourself before you hurt someone.”

He watched as a few more cracks appeared in her psyche, and he tightened his grip, “Go to Camma. Color with her. I have to go meet my new patient anyway.” Bug continued watching as Fira, resolutely, gathered herself. 

That, right there, was why Fira was in charge, even though she was the second youngest member of the crew. Because unlike anyone else, she knew how to pick up her own shattered pieces, and glue them back together. 

He pulled her into a loose hug, which she allowed for a few seconds, and then she slipped free and headed to the door, though she hesitated before she opened it. “If he needs anything, just...let me know, okay? I’ll make sure we get it.”

Bug smiled, “You always do.”

He watched as she left the room, and then he turned to his own tasks. He already had everything he needed in his bag to give a physical to a newly rescued slave, so he wasn’t worried about that. But he was well aware that this scenario was a little different than usual.

So he was careful to change out of the normal pirate get-up that he preferred and into the scrubs he wore when he needed to be more doctor and less pirate. And only then did he grab his bag and step out of his office and down the short hall that led him to the shielded room.

He wished that they didn’t have to use the shielded rooms, or that they could at least remove the bars. But he understood why they hadn’t. Likely the same reason that the previous owners installed them in the first place.

The man was younger than Bug anticipated. Probably around Fira’s age, biologically. Though he had heard rumors about enhanced aging. It was an interesting challenge, he would have to see if the young man would consent to having some blood drawn so he could run some tests.

He was wearing the clothes that Camma brought him, a simple t-shirt and some trousers, though he left the shoes against the wall. And, at the moment, he was lounging on the bed reading one of Fira’s mystery novels.

That genuinely amused him. Fira was possessive of those books, they were the first things she bought when she freed herself, and she barely let anyone touch them, and she just let this stranger borrow three of them?

And she said that she didn’t see herself in him. The little liar.

Bug cleared his throat, and waited for the young man to focus his attention on him. The young man, Fira murmured that he had given her a number when she asked for a name, sat up and he scanned Bug through serious golden eyes, his gaze darting from the scrubs, to the bag at his side, and then to his face.

His expression became very guarded, very quickly. Medical Abuse, then. Bug had seen a lot of it over his 150 years of life. “My name,” He said, his voice low and soothing, “Is Bug, are you enjoying the book?”

He paused, and then nodded, “It’s well written, and interesting.” He admitted, “Camma brought me the first three in the series.” He paused, “Are they yours?”

“Oh, no. Hate mystery stories, I just get frustrated.” Bug replied, carefully setting his bag on a crate and leaning against the wall, “They’re Fira’s. They’re the first thing she bought when she was freed.”

He glanced at the books, “Well then, I’ll be gentle with them.” He set the books to the side, and focused his attention on Bug, “So, why are you here?”

“I am the ship doctor, and I am here to make sure that you are in good health, as well as determine if you have a slave chip located in your body. And then we can discuss it’s removal.”

*******

Cody blinked at him, startled. “You think-? I don’t have a slave chip!” He didn’t. He would know. Alpha-17 would have told them.

Bug, the Doctor, stared at him unblinkingly, “Then it will be a simple exam.” Though he didn’t make any move to enter the cell. “Do you have any questions for me, before we begin?”

Yeah. Like a million. Though-

“...Why keep me in a cell if you want to free me?”

“Ah. Fira didn’t explain this to you then,” Bug nodded, “This part of the ship is heavily shielded” He explained, “So heavily shielded that explosive chips won’t explode, regardless of how far away a slave gets from their owner.”

Oh. That made sense, actually.

“And the bars?” he asked as he kicked one of the bars.

Bug regarded him calmly, “Sometimes, a slave isn’t happy to be taken from their owners. The bars are for our protection, and your own.”

That also made sense, damn it.

“Any other questions?”

“If you don’t find a chip, will you let me go?” Cody asked.

Bug tilted his head, and Cody seriously wondered what race he was, because he was clearly not Nautolan, “Are you so eager to return to the Republics Slave Army?”

No, actually. He wasn’t. But he did want to return to his brothers.

“That slave army,” Cody said scathingly, “Is made up of my brothers.”

“Ah. So that’s how you view each other, my apologies.” Bug said lightly, “I will ensure that everyone on the ship knows that.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Cody said after a moment.

“No. I didn’t.” Bug agreed, “Let’s see if you even have a chip before we decide on what to do after, yes? Is there a name you would like me to call you?”

“CC-2224.”

“...Lad. No one on this ship is going to call you by a number.” Bug said quietly, “Not anymore than they would call me by mine, or Fira by hers.”

Right. Former slaves. Now he felt a little guilty.

“Is Bug your real name?”

He smiled, “I chose it. The only people on this ship who have the names their parents gave them are Juffo and Gray. Juffo was an adult when he was sold into slavery by some Trandoshans, and Gray was sold by his parents.”

“Huh.” They were more like him and his brothers than he thought.

“Of course, unlike Fira and Camma, I actually do know my birth name.” Bug admitted, “I was a jedi once, you see.”

Cody jerked, stunned, “What?”

“Oh, yes. Through Coruscant. Mind you, this was well over a century ago.” Bug said easily, “I was quick to anger, and the temple decided that I was not proper jedi material. So they shipped me to the Agricorps. That did absolutely nothing to help my anger issues.”

Cody stared at him, stunned. “How-Jedi to Pirate is quite the career jump.”

“I didn’t want to be a farmer. I hated every day. I tried to run away daily. Eventually I was caught by slavers and sold. My first owner,” His lips curled at the word, “Decided that I would make a fair doctor, so I was pushed into medical school. Once I finished medical school, I was worth much, much more. Fira freed me several years ago.”

“So, why Bug?”

“Why not?”

That’s fair, Cody decided.

“Cody.” He finally said, after thinking about it, “My name. It’s Cody.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Cody.” Bug said, “Will you consent to a medical exam?”

“...yes. Fine.”

Bug nodded and the bars slid open, allowing Cody out of the cell. “We can either do the examination with you standing, or you can sit on the crate.” Bug explained, nodding to a second crate.

“Standing is fine,”

Bug nodded, and pulled out a scanner, “This is a basic scanner. It’s going to check you for broken bones, torn muscles, and will also determine your height and weight. Hold still please.”

The scanner lit up, and Cody grimaced when the green light washed over him for 30 whole seconds. It wasn’t uncomfortable, it didn’t feel like much of anything, but he hated medical exams.

“Hm. No broken bones. Or torn muscles,” Bug said, looking at a screen, “You are underweight for your height, I’ll make a note for you to get extra food when your meals are delivered. Other than that, you’re pretty healthy.”

“Are you sure I’m underweight?” Cody asked with a frown, “All of my brothers are the same-”

“Then you’re all underweight. Not by a lot, but you are.” Bug tapped the side of his datapad, “My guess, you’re using more calories than you’re getting. You’re young, and a soldier, so you need more calories.”

Bug flickered his gaze back at his datapad, “Alright, next is determining if you have a slave chip, and if you do have one, where it’s located.”

“I’m telling you I don’t,” Cody said with a sigh.

“And I want to know for sure,” Bug countered, “I have two scanners. The first one will ping if you have a chip. The second one will only need to be used if the first one pings.”

“Fine.”

“Alright. I’ll activate the scanner now.” The scanner was silent for a moment, and Cody was about to tell the doctor that he told him so, and then it pinged. Loudly. Three times. “Ah. It appears that you do have a chip.”

Cody stared at the scanner, shocked. “I...maybe it’s malfunctioning?”

Bug shot him a sympathetic look, “Let’s see if we can find it.” He pulled the second device out of his bag, and attached it to a datapad, which he set up so both he, and Cody, could see. “I’ll start by scanning the most common locations to put slave chips,”

“Common?”

“Arms, legs.” Bug said absently, “If it’s not in those locations, then I’ll move to more uncommon locations, abdomen, spine, groin, neck, head.”

“Why are those uncommon locations?” Cody asked, not sure he actually wanted to know.

“You only put a slave chip in one of those places if you want them dead, rather than free.” Bug explained.

Cody felt a sinking sensation in his gut, “You should start with the uncommon locations.” He said, numbly.

Bug paused and lifted his head to regard Cody curiously. “Alright. I will.” He replied, and then he focused his attention back on the scanner.

Cody watched, his heart in his stomach, as Bug scanned his abdomen and groin, and found nothing. And then he scanned up his spine, and found nothing. Cody knew halfway through the scan, that if he had a chip, it was located in his head.

And then, as Bug brought the scanner to Cody’s right temple, the datapad lit up, revealing a small chip, the size of a computer chip, located in his brain. Or on his brain.

At that point it didn’t matter. Because he has a chip in his brain.

Cody stared at the datapad, feeling like he was going to throw up. And then he realized that he couldn’t breathe. It felt like there was a massive weight on his chest- and he couldn’t breathe.

“Easy there, Lad.” Bug gripped him by the shoulder, and immediately placed Cody’s hand on his chest, “Breathe with me, Cody. Come on. In...out...” Bug took large, exaggerated, breaths, and he continued it until some of the color returned to Cody’s face, and he was breathing a bit more normally, “There we go, lad.”

“Get it out. I want it out!” Cody was still panicked, with good reason.

Bug hesitated, “I’m very good, Cody. But I cannot preform brain surgery.”

Cody wilted. He was absolutely crushed. He didn’t want to live the rest of his shortened life with a chip in his brain.

“But, don’t give up just yet. I need to make a call. You just sit down and breathe.”

*******

“-an’ this is Boberta,” Camma said, as she held up one of the many dolls that the crew had acquired for her since she joined them, “She’s a Princess Archeologist.”

“A Princess Archeologist, huh.” Fira mused, as she took the little Miralian doll, and looked her over, “I bet she’s super smart.”

“Yeah! The smartest!” Camma took the doll back and carefully set her at the little table, “She’s one of a whole set!”

“Is she? Well, maybe for your nameday we’ll get you the rest,” Fira offered.

Camma gasped in sheer delight, “Yay!”

Fira paused, as she comm blinked to life, “I have to take this, have fun playing pretend.” She said, glancing over to Gray, who was solemnly wearing a pink boa and a matching plastic crown.

Gray glared at her, subtly enough that Camma didn’t notice, and then he focused his attention back on the child who had just offered him some fake tea.

Fira grinned and slipped out of the room, taking the time to make sure that the door was shut, before she answered her comm, “What’s up Bug?”

“I need you to come to the shielded room. Now.” And then he hung up before she could respond.

Fira sighed, he always did that when it was important. She was beginning to think that he just hated technology. But, well, he sounded stressed, which meant he was probably going to be making an ask.

She quickly headed to the shielded room, using her key card to unlock the door, and stepping in, before she shut it again. “What’s wrong Bug?” Their guest was sitting on a crate, his face in his hands. That...didn’t bode well.

“See for yourself,” Bug replied, as he handed her a datapad.

Fira rose a single brow, and then looked at the images on the screen. It took her a few moments to comprehend what she was looking at, as she wasn’t a medic, but-

“Is that a slave chip located in his brain?” That was sickening. How would that even work? Unless it had been implanted when he was an infant...

“It is,” Bug said quietly, “It appears to be located on the brain, rather than in the brain, but-”

“But you still can’t do brain surgery.” Fira finished, she handed the datapad back to him, “What do you need?”

“A medical droid, specifically one that can preform brain surgeries.” Bug said immediately.

“So a Surgical Droid,” Fira murmured, her mind already racing for the various locations she could get one of those on the Outer Rim. Easy answer was to steal one from the Hutts, “What else?”

Bug paused, and glanced at their guest, and he waited.

“A message.” He lifted his head and stared at Fira, “I want to send a message to my brothers, telling them about the chips.”

Fira paused, and glanced at Bug, “Cody is already aware that we won’t be sending this message from the ship.” He explained.

Huh. His name was Cody. Good to know.

“Write a message with Bug, along with whatever, medically relevant, information you think he’ll need, Bug. I’ll send the message when I go to collect the surgical droid.” Fira finally said with a sigh.

Cody stared at her, “You’re really going to send it?”

“Well, yeah.” Fira shrugged awkwardly, “My goal is to free all slaves, not just some of us.”

“I’m not-” Cody paused, and his fingers brushed his temple. Fira guessed that the chip was located in that area, “Where are you going to get a surgical droid anyway?” He said instead.

“The Hutts,”

“They’re not going to sell a surgical droid to you,” Cody said flatly.

Fira flashed a sharp grin, “Well now. Who said anything about buying it, darling?”

He gaped at her, and then sighed, “I can’t believe that I’m trusting myself, and my brothers, to pirates.”

And then he paused, and tangled his fingers in his short hair, “Thank you. For letting me borrow your books. And for, you know, helping.”

“Oh. You’re welcome?” She replied, awkwardly.

Bug snickered, “Adorable,”

Fira shot him a dirty look, “Don’t you have work to do?”

At that, Bug just laughed, “Come here, Cody. Let’s put your message together.”

******

Half a galaxy away, Clone Medic Helix was sitting in his office, alone, while nursing a bottle of illegal moonshine.

Cody, his Commander, his ori’vod, has been missing for over a week. And there has been no ransom demands, nor any sign of the ship that took him. (He wasn’t dumb, he knew the Republic would replace Cody before they paid a ransom, but he could hope.)

The ship was quiet. Quieter. The vod’e were mourning. They knew the reality of the situation. After a week, Cody was probably dead. 

Tears burned in his eyes. And Helix pretended that the tears were caused by the awful alcohol he was drinking rather than his grief.

General Kenobi already reached out to the Jedi Council, they were sending a replacement Commander to the Negotiator already. The fact that they were sending Marshal Commander Fox to replace Cody felt like a slap in the face.

It wasn’t Fox’s decision, of course. None of the vod’e would begrudge him his place on the Negotiator. But there was more than a little resentment growing for General Kenobi.

They could be good soldiers. They could follow orders and work together with him. But the trust had been broken. General Kenobi hadn’t even waited a week before Cody going missing and reporting the abduction.

Helix downed another mouthful of the moonshine, grimacing at the burn.

His datapad beeped once. He ignored it.

And then it beep a second time, and he sighed and grabbed it. He turned his bleary gaze to the notification at the top of the screen.

Two new messages.

Helix sighed, and opened the first message.

I’m still alive, vod. Stop moping.

I’m actually being treated well, all things considered. I can’t tell you where I am, largely because by the time you receive this, I’ll be somewhere else entirely, but I promise that I’m fine. The doctor on the ship I’m on has been bitching at me for not eating properly, you’d probably like him.

The Captain is a bitch, and I mean that in the best way possible. She has a goal, and she won’t let anything as unimportant as a little intergalactic war stand in her way. I like her. Sometimes. Or I would if she hadn’t kidnapped me.

Listen, Helix. Attached to this message is some medical information. Look it over, and do what you can about it. Make sure the other medics get the same information.

Cody

Helix’s breath caught in his throat. Cody was alive. Cody was alive and he was being treated well. That was...well. That was much better than he feared. 

He opened the second message, and started reading. His blood ran cold. And then he scrolled back to the top and started reading again. He scrolled through pages of medical scans, deep brain scans, and a document listing the best, possible, way to remove the slave chip without causing irreparable harm.

Helix copied the medical information, and he forwarded the information to every single clone medic he knew. And then he set the datapad on his desk.

Did he trust the information? Yes. But he was going to verify it himself as soon as he could.

The bigger question was, did the Jedi know? The Helix of two weeks ago would have said no. Of course not. But the Helix of now-

Well. He had little trust for the Jedi as a whole, at the moment. The information would remain with the clones, and no one else. He was worried about Cody, but the information from the doctor on the ship Cody was on had been very thorough. 

Plus, there had been a note at the bottom about a ‘Firebrand’ acquiring a surgical droid for Cody. Helix closed his eyes, his ori’vod would be fine. He had to believe that, even if he wasn’t sure it was true.

He needed to sober up, and then do some of his own research. There was no way in hell he was going to allow a single brother to have a slave chip anywhere in their bodies. But least of all their brains.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Blood Moon

Marc Spector/Moon Knight x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Mentions of murder, spouse death, child death, betrayal, blood, violence, guilt, depression, manhunt

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Yeah remember what I said about trying to finish this before Halloween? Yeah I'm a fucking liar don't ever take me for my word I am a monster.

This is where I decided to merge a tiny bit of lore from comics/MCU Moon Knight here in regards to his powers.

But anyways... Have this little tidbit into Marc's backstory! Marc and Randall are only about two years apart in age. So that means Marc is 36 at the time of this story. Forgive a few discrepancies here and there as I better establish a timeline.

Taglist: @badbishsblog

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Pt. 5

Living with Marc was certainly a hell of an experience. But, at the same time, you two were becoming a well-oiled machine. Barring the awkward slip-ups that had you two avoiding each other like the plague for hours, anyways.

It was nice, you found, to not be alone in your house anymore. You never realized it before, but you were always so... gray. Lifeless almost when you were alone. You didn't like to be left alone with your thoughts of yourself, of your inadequacies you'd never voice with anyone except your therapist.

But having Marc around eased that loneliness you actually hadn't realized you'd been feeling. Hell, it wasn't until he moved in and you got used to having another body in your house that you realized you were lonely in the first place.

Despite this, you'd realized that while yes, you had read his file and learned about his background, you'd yet to actually ask him about his past.

You haven't heard it directly from the horse's mouth, as it were.

But you decided not to broach the subject, yet. You still felt that it was too soon for that after your fight and make-up as a team to risk being at the throat of your new roommate.

Because, you realized, it was nice having one again. You hadn't had a roommate since you had been in foster care.

And you weren't ready to lose that just yet.

Marc had odd habits, to say the least. More often than not, you'd catch him actually sleeping in the basement on the old plush couch you kept down there, instead of his bedroom.

His bedroom was always kept immaculate, but the basement was his workspace and god, was it a mess.

Papers and tech strewn about, gear scattered on worktables as he took them apart to fix them or run maintenance; plus the cases containing your hero gear as well.

It looked like a college student crammed for their exam two hours before their finals almost every time you went down there...

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Tonight, you'd found Marc fast asleep, snoring softly as he sprawled out on the worn, suede couch, his body sinking into the ridiculously squishy cushions as he dreamt.

He had one arm draped over his face, one knee raised, and the other arm hanging off the edge of the cushions, a datapad clutched tightly in his hand.

It was almost cute.

You pulled out a quilt you nabbed at a yard sale, once and carefully draped it over him, as the basement could get rather chilly at times and poor Marc was passed out in nothing but his sweats and a t-shirt.

You put your hands on your hips and looked at the mess scattered on the surface of the coffee table in front of him, plus the few on the floor. A few SHIELD-issue tablets, and some paper files (yeesh, who even used those anymore?).

You chewed your bottom lip hesitantly, sparing the unconscious Marc a small glance before you felt a nagging in your gut. Curiosity was always one of your less... qualities at times.

How did that story about curiosity and the cat go, again?

Anyways...

You simply couldn't help yourself. What exactly was Marc always researching all the time?

You had to know. Even if it was just a tiny nugget of knowledge.

You sat in a squat next to Marc, looking at him as he breathed softly, showing no signs of stirring.

You slowly and as gently as possible, pulled the tablet in Marc's hand free of his calloused fingers, and stepped away from him to turn it on, so the light wouldn't stir him.

And you were glad you did, it almost blinded you when you hit the power button.

How the fuck did Marc see with shit this bright?

You had to fumble until you turned the brightness down, and let your eyes re-adjust.

The thing that immediately struck you was one line.

A name.

It made your blood chill, turning into icy sludge as it crawled through your veins; you felt your mouth go dry.

Randall Spector.

Age: 34

Race: Caucasian

Last known confirmed location: Paris, France.

The rest of the page had a list of crimes he was the main suspect of. Murder, theft, espionage, assassination...

You looked up, dumbfounded at Marc's sleeping body.

There was no way they could be related. It had to be common name, right?

You looked back down and scrolled to another page.

And your hopes that it was a common last name were dashed.

The picture of the man was this Randall, younger obviously, he looked to be in his early 20s in his Illinois ID.

But the resemblance to Marc was sickeningly uncanny. Randall had messy curly hair that was slicked back as best he could, and a charming smile that could no doubt put a heart attack at ease, his brown eyes glowing with humor in their depths as he grinned for the camera.

You swallowed hard at the lump in your throat and continued scrolling. The file contained grainy and blurry security footage of possible sightings over the years in various places across the globe.

The most shocking picture at the end, however... Was a picture of Marc with a group of people, Randall included.

They were, judging by the looks of it, in a desert of some kind. Randall hung on Marc, appearing to be laughing as the photo had been taken, meanwhile Marc stood, unusually clean-shaven and stoic, his arms crossed over his chest as he gave a small, ghost of a smile.

A young woman stood to Marc's left, holding onto his forearm as she smiled widely, her dark black, curly hair pulled back into a tight braid, her thick-rimmed glasses perched all the way up her nose.

Marc and that woman wore matching bands on their left ring fingers.

You brought your hand to your mouth in revulsion at the revelation, feeling your stomach roil in protest. It was either guilt, or horror because you knew... Marc had no family. You knew about his daughter being dead. But not her mother. Nothing about a brother.

You were in too deep now, and you just couldn't stop yourself.

You scrolled to a new page, detailing a small bit of information on that woman.

Erica Spector.

Age (deceased): 26

Race: Hispanic.

Cause of death: Vehicular Accident (Attributed to brake failure)

The picture of her ID broke your heart. She beamed at the camera, her slightly crooked teeth showing as she smiled proudly, a slight glare in her glasses as the flash hit the lenses.

The next photo, was her and Marc. At their wedding. She wore a gorgeous mermaid gown with a floral lace neckline, her sleeves ending in almost a bell-shape. Her hair hung down in gorgeous waves with violets pinned to the strands, framing her face and sun-kissed skin illuminated with highlighter as she smiled at the camera. Marc had been looking at the ground for whatever reason as they both stood at the altar, his arm around her waist and his hand adjusting the waistline of his dress pants.

But he was smiling. And it was such a gorgeous smile, teeth out, dimples in his cheeks and his eyes practically closed from how wide his lips were stretched.

The next photo broke your heart.

It appeared to be a maybe a year or so later (at most) after the photo of them in the desert.

Erica was pregnant, her belly sticking out far in the baby blue sundress she wore, holding up a cute pink onesie in her hands that simply read "Daddy's Princess" on the front in purple cursive font.

The photo after that one was of them in the hospital, Marc standing by the window of the hospital room, holding his newborn daughter in his arms, a soft, glowing smile on his face as her tiny fingers gripped his hand.

You felt your chest burn as you felt the gravity start to kick in, but you turned another page in the file.

Diatrice Spector

Age (deceased): 5

Race: Hispanic-Caucasian

Cause of death: Homicide (Found to be caused by gunshot wounds to the chest.)

You felt like your heart would give out at that word.

Homicide.

You assumed Marc lost his daughter in some horrible, tragic accident, like you'd lost your family.

But no. Three years ago, someone murdered his baby. And her babysitter.

The photos of the crime scene unfolded next, bloody boot prints everywhere, the babysitter's head partially caved in from a beating, and Diatrice--

"What the hell are you doing?!"

You jumped and almost dropped the tablet in your fright, spinning on your heels to see Marc staring at you from the couch, the quilt hastily tossed off of him.

You expected him to be angry, to look absolutely pissed at you.

Instead he looked... Terrified. Scared.

Heartbroken.

His gorgeous brown eyes were big, heavy dark circles hanging like curtains over his cheeks as he stared at you, mouth agape.

"I... I... I'm sorry, I... I didn't--" You stammer, swallowing hard, clutching the tablet against your chest.

"I was just..."

God, there was no excuse for this. You were curious. Curious and nosey, and you didn't have the guts to ask him anything about his past to his face yet, afraid for the repercussions that might cause; of the ripples it would trigger in the glass-like surface of the water of teamwork you two strove for.

Marc looks at you, your eyes locked in a tense, silent stare.

Then, he runs his hand through his air as he lets out a slow exhale, shoulders dropping.

He looks away and waves you over to sit next to him, and he scoots to the side.

The moment you sat down, you immediately thrust the tablet into his lap, your palms spreading over your knees as you bounced your feet.

"L-Look, I was just--"

"Stop." Marc sighed, setting the tablet on the coffee table. His voice was still heavy with sleep, that slightly gravelly tone you may or may not have fantasized about once or twice.

He looked at you, his lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke.

"How far did you get?"

Your nails dug into the fabric of your pajama pants as your legs bounced aimlessly, trying to alleviate the embarrassment, guilt, and shame of you snooping through his things.

"I..." You say, chewing the inside of your cheek.

God, you felt terrible.

Your body stopped cold when his heavy hand slid over your knee, stopping your movements in their place.

You felt his fingers squeeze you softly, before his palm rubbed the bones he could feel beneath your skin and muscle in a soothing gesture.

"I guess it's only fair I tell you about me, huh?" Marc sighed dejectedly, taking his hand off of you and wiping his face, as if that gesture alone could erase his fatigue.

"To answer the first few questions I know you have bouncing around in your head..." He added, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he stared at the paperwork and tablets on the table in front of you two.

"Yes. Randall is my brother. My little brother. And yes. I'm looking for him." Marc looked at you.

You were sitting patiently, your brows pinched and your expression pensive.

"Nobody would listen to me, but I know he caused the accident that killed Erica." You saw his throat bob hard as his expression darkened. "The investigation said she veered off the road due to bad conditions. But I'm not stupid. I looked into it myself, and bribed someone to let me look at the wreckage. The brake lines weren't torn during the crash, they were cut before the crash. Nobody would listen to me and I almost got arrested for interfering with an investigation. Yeah, right."

He snorted, a humorless and cold sound.

"They closed the case as an accident, wouldn't listen to me. Said I was "too hung up on the loss of my wife"." He made finger quotes. "So I investigated myself. God, fuck, I knew it was Randall... If they'd just listened to me... He..."

His voice broke up as he clenched his eyes shut.

"Diatrice wouldn't have been... I would still have her."

"Marc...." You say, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Why... why would Randall do this?"

He sighs deeply, a heavy sound coming from him like the air was just vacuumed out of his lungs.

"It... Fuck. Randall is the one who introduced me to Erica. I had just gotten out of the Marines. It just... They weren't a good fit for me, so I returned to Chicago. Home." Marc leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "Randall had gotten a job in some security firm for archeological digs, which is where he met Erica. It was good money, he told me. They were friends. She just got her degree and was trying to get the spot on a dig site somewhere. We... hit it off fast. Within a year, we got married, Randall got me a job in his firm. A year after that, we went to Egypt with Erica on a dig."

"Your file said you got your powers on a dig in Egypt..." You say softly.

"Yeah. That same dig. It was a pain in the ass, we still don't know what exactly happened. I touched something, a statue, and... Poof. Powers." Marc lets out a slow hiss of air, his eyes closing, dark lashes touching his cheeks. "We finished the dig, everyone swore into secrecy. SHIELD found out about it anyways, and offered me a position. It's where I built my ankh and my tech."

"But... Peter said you got your powers from the ankh." You say, brows knit together in confusion.

"He's wrong. My file was put down incorrectly, but it's been fixed since I noticed the discrepancy after Peter mentioned that when he wanted my help during the Symbiote Invasion." Marc looked at you, his eyes tired and strained.

"But still. Something pissed Randall off. Randall and I weren't ever really friends, even as siblings. We tolerated each other. When I got those powers and he didn't? He just... he fucking snapped. After we returned from the dig, members of the team started turning up dead. Then, we found out we were expecting our first child. It turns out that Erica either got pregnant during the dig or shortly after."

You couldn't help but smile softly, your expression a bit pained. "During the dig? Marc..."

"Let's just say we were happy I wasn't dead after touching that statue." Marc said, closing his eyes with a nostalgic, yet sad smile.

"But anyways... with our baby on the way, we focused on that instead. When Diatrice was born, it was the happiest day of my life. She was a happy, bubbly little thing."

You sensed the shift from affectionate pride as he spoke about his daughter, to the grief you knew was coming as he spoke:

"Two years later, Erica had her "accident". Three years after that... Randall murdered Dee and Sandra. God. That poor girl. She was still so young. She tried so hard to keep him from hurting Dee."

He gritted his teeth and rested his arm over his face, most likely to hide the tears that wanted to roll free from the dam of his eyelids. Marc's voice was a weak tremble.

"After that, I started hunting, I moved my base of ops to the sewers. I went digging after he vanished. He became a hitman, a no-good killer for hire. Then I went to ground six months before the Symbiotes invaded. After that is when Peter found me, or well, I found him."

"And here we are, a year later..." You said softly.

"Yeah." He croaked out weakly.

You both sat in a long, pregnant silence. You weren't even sure how long it was, all you could hear was the sound of the water heater making noises now and again, and the buzzing fluorescent lights illuminating your basement.

"Marc?" You finally asked.

"Yeah?" He answered.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and lean back and over, until your head rested on Marc's shoulder.

You could feel him hold his breath and tense, and you waited until he breathed again to speak.

"...I'm sorry for snooping." You apologized.

"You were curious about me. It's not like I've been forthcoming about this shit." Marc sighed softly, his body softening slightly.

"But still. It was wrong." You say to him, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath.

The smokey, pine scent of his choice of cologne and body wash filled your nose, filtering around in your lungs as you take in the essence that is Marc Spector.

"Marc."

"Still here."

"Thank you... for telling me all of this." You whisper.

"It was about time I get it all out. I guess it just took the right battering ram to knock the door down."

You can't help but chuckle, and Marc joins in with you.

It was good to hear him laugh.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Pt. 6: Link

[vivifrage]

Whumptober Day 4: Alternative Prompt: Stabbed

TW: Past mistreatment of a child

He thought little of it any more. The possibility did not occur to him when he decided to forego an undershirt. She had seen it so many times and never said a thing, not since she was a toddler first learning what scars were. Even then, it was one of many she’d cataloged on his body, putting her tiny hands on it and saying, “Ouch,” before moving on to the next.

He turned wrong while making breakfast. Not by much, just enough that he sucked in a breath and kneaded his side where the carapace had never quite grown back together.

“Is that something else that’s not for a hatchling to know?”

He startled and cursed under his breath; when did she wake up? He hadn’t heard her come downstairs. Had she just been standing there, watching him wordlessly?

“You’ve seen it before,” he said. The sudden throb of pain had dulled to a lingering ache already, but his voice remained strained. “It is nothing new.”

“New information creates new contexts,” she shot back. She did not even sit at the table. She crossed her lower arms and balanced a tablet in one upper one, prodding at it with another.

He let out a sigh. That it did. The old crews, his mother, the relics… So much he did not dare speak about. So much he had tried to move on from; so much left behind for her sake. All these years spent trying to make it so she never had to know the horrors he saw. And yet.

And yet.

He stirred the food, simmering away in the pan. What was he supposed to tell her? Would she even accept anything from him? He loved her to the end of the sky and back, but she had a stubbornness to her. She convinced the Techeuns to tutor her, after all. And she stuck through apprenticing under Variks; Misraaks knew how tough the old Scribe could be when it came to passing along his knowledge.

Sticking his face over the food, tasting its scent, was automatic. As was the thought that it needed something to brighten it up. He reached for the fridge door, pickles and vinegars and juices mingling with old scars and old words.

Eido opened it, grabbed a jar, and handed it to him. Pickled priteks.

He studied the lid for a moment. Well, it would work.

As he opened the jar, she handed him a spoon. “I-” She heaved a sigh of her own, shaking her head. “What will it take to convince you I can handle the truth?”

What could he say? Nothing came to him. He eyed her for a moment, then his gaze fell to the priteks. One spoonful, in the pan. A second, after a moment’s hesitation. She certainly wouldn’t complain if he overdid it, considering how she used the stuff.

She gave a short growl. “Can you at least tell me you’re not ready to talk about it-”

“Eido.”

She huffed. Her lower arms remained crossed, and her brow knit, face scrunched with anger. He used to find that expression cute, at least when he got past the frustration of wrangling her emotions in the moment.

He shook his head. He stirred the food, let the priteks integrate with all the rest. He did not growl back. He would not. Even if he could not keep his voice as measured as he wished, and a snarl seeped into it. “If nothing else, can we agree I have tried to give you a good life?”

He glanced back just long enough to see her blink, eyes wide. The question had caught her off-guard. Good. Let him have a break.

“I- yes?” She shrugged. Her head listed towards the side, so he was no longer directly in her view. “That’s why-”

“What did I do?” he asked, “To give you a better life?”

For a moment, it was quiet, save for the sizzle of breakfast cooking. He shook the pan, scraped up the fond darkening on the bottom, just to break up the silence.

Finally, she spoke, muttering her concession. “All this.” She gestured beyond their meager home, towards the Eliksni Quarter at large. Then to her own robes and the datapad she held. “Working as a Scribe. Not docking me.”

He turned his scarred side to her. Held his lower arm away so she could better see it. A couple fingertips traced it out, all the too-smooth scar tissue he’d had for so very long. “This is how my mother did that for me. This is her treating me as an adult when I told her I was ready for the world.”

The horror in her eyes made bile rise in his throat. “You were- my grandmother-”

The smell of the food began to turn acrid. Something had stuck and begun to burn. He could not say what. “She was a mother,” he said, drawing each word out, “In a time nobody could imagine hope any more.”

She reached for him. “You didn’t deserve-”

He took her wrist and lowered it. Harder, he shook the pan, scraped the fond. The sound filled the air. “You do not deserve this.”

She did not ask him any more questions. She did not try to argue. When breakfast finished, and he offered some to her, she said she was not hungry.

He did not blame her.

[drsmokescreen]

thebestdecepticonleader 9h ago Starscream had brought his trine, now a full trine again, thanks to Smokescreen. He also had a few other faces that Smokescreen would recognise with him, Hook and Knockout, in case of medical emergencies. Scrapper was also there, as one of the speakers, though the rest of the Constructicons were absent. Barricade was obviously there as a guard. Somewhat strangely, Lazerbeak, one of Soundwave's cassetticons was there, though Soundwave himself wasn't. Did that mean Soundwave, of all people, had left the Decepticons too? Or did one of the cassetticons break away from him? Each team agreed to bring 25 members to the meeting. Though in his mind Starscream knew the Autobots likely had some more people waiting just out of sight, he had decided to do the proper thing and follow the rules outlined as a show of willingness to cooperate. He also had a few hundred back at base, ready to deploy if any attacks happened, but he was at least trying. "Ready," Starscream had his own datapad and stylus ready. "Greetings to the Prime and the Autobot delegation," He was clearly trying to be polite, "Welcome to the first formal ceasefire agreement between Autobots and Unity. I hope that this is the first of many meetings that will help Cybertron regrow into the planet it can be once again."

Smokescreen groaned internally, accustomed to keeping his thoughts to himself.

'Thank you, Commander. I also hope this is only the first step to a general peace and long-term stability,' Optimus returned. Prowl slid a large tablet in front of Prime. It contains the original ceasefire agreement with numerous places for signatures and seals within its parts. Optimus scrolled down to the first line for his signature and stamp, giving it large scrollwork and then the two seals of his office (as the 8th Prime chosen and the general Primal Seal over Cybertron) underneath. Optimus sat back upright as Prowl turned the tablet around and slowly slid it over to Starscream for his half.

[sira365]

The Downfalls of Holoblogging (When You're Anakin Skywalker's Former Jedi Master)

characters:  Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker rating: Teen and Up Audiences word count: 1.8k ao3 • star wars masterlist

Summary: Running a holoblog has its pros and cons. For Obi-Wan, the scale seems to tip more to the bad side. He has to learn that the hard way.

Blue Milk - Why? A reader commented on my ‘ Beverages Yays and Nays’ post to do a write-up on blue milk, an Outer Rim speciality. I’ve been stuck on quite a few starships recently, and with nothing to do in hyperspace, I took it upon myself to bring this review to fruition. Blue milk is an acquired taste. I am deeply aware of my proclivity towards cerulean beverages (see my entry on ‘ Must-Order Drinks at The Outlander and Avoiding Death-Stick Dealers’) , yet blue milk still eludes my fancies. This horrid lactose drink is most objectionable in its purest form, leaving the consumer with a rude, gamy aftertaste of Bantha. Scathingly strong and hardly un noticeable, it overstays its welcome at the back of your throat.  There is much scientific literature to support the unappetising nature of blue-colored foods. Blue foods just do not occur naturally in the universe in significant amounts, consequently removing automatic appetite responses to anything blue. The color blue, when seen in exotic fauna, may also suggest poison, further prompting humanoids’ primal nature for self-preservation. On this basis, I must give blue milk a paltry 2.1 marks out of 10. Science is on my side. That is all I have for today. Last week, my work brought me to the fiery Mustafar system in the Outer Rim, so expect a titillating, spicy review of Mustafarian cuisine to be up next. May the force be with you. 

As he scanned his datapad, Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker's eyes widened like saucers, horrified, no, enraged by what he was reading on his datapad screen.

"Unbelievable!" He yelled out loud, "Koochoo!" 

Master Obi-Wan Kenobi lifted his head up from a projected display of Point Rain's terrain, and perked up a curious eyebrow at his former apprentice. 

"And what idiot has decided to incur the wrath of Anakin Skywalker this time?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin took a few impatient steps towards Obi-Wan, “Look at this shit on the Holonet!” He angrily gestured at his datapad, tilting the tablet so the older Jedi could also see the utter garbage he had just read.

Obi-Wan gave an exasperated eye roll. This was just another one of Anakin’s freaking-out-over-shit-he-saw-on-the-holonet crises. Just last week he had spent hours consoling the 20-year-old over netizens turning podracing into so-called holonet memes (“It’s a serious sport! This is outrageous!”) .  “Anakin, it’s the holonet, don’t waste your outrage on silly ar-” 

That’s when Obi-Wan saw the words at the top of the screen. 

He saw the font, he saw its azure tint, he saw the title: “Blue Milk - Why?” .

He remembers the font, specially picked to make the page look smart and clean; He remembers the tint, hand-chosen to fit the theme of the review; He remembers the title, carefully crafted to concisely encapsulate his thoughts.

In rainbow vivid memory, he remembers. He can see it in his head in perfect clarity, patiently typing it out on the voyage to Rodia, copying the passage to his browser, shaking an angry fist at everybody and no one when his connection faltered while uploading (flaky hyperspace net was the bane of Obi-Wan’s existence). 

Anakin Skywalker had stumbled upon his food review on his Holoblog; His food review was now Anakin Skywalker’s object of scorn; He was the koochoo .

Well kriff. 

“Yes? Do finish your spiel, Master.” Anakin quipped, making a childish yapping sign with his free arm.

For the first time in his life, Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t quite know what to say.

His holoblog had always been a side hobby, something to do in transit. A Jedi’s life brought him to the most obscure corners of the galaxy, which was undoubtedly exciting. But throughout the years, Obi-Wan had found that the degree of adventure and the amount of boredom experienced while traveling were directly proportional, a tragic reality all intrepid Knights faced. What was a man supposed to do with himself while stuck in hyperspace? He found his solution in running a holoblog. 

A pseudonymous holoblog he started when he was a but a starry-eyed Padawan, ' Hello There, Galaxy ’ had accumulated a small but loyal following over the years. Needless to say, there was a lot on there that he didn't need his wayward ex-Padawan snooping around in. 

I have a bad feeling about this.

"This is unbelievable. You know what, I'm going to give this, this," Anakin aggressively swiped at the screen, scrolling through the blog page attempting to find the name of its owner, " Ben person a piece of my force damned mind. Do people not understand how versatile blue milk is? Blue milk custard, blue milk pudding, blue milk cake! Some people just need to keep their stupid opinions to themselves!"  His mechno arm tapped the screen of his datapad vigorously as he typed up a storm in the comments section.

“This, is, outrageous.” Anakin said what he was typing out loud, nose scrunched up in dissatisfaction.

That went on for a few more minutes, during which Obi-Wan cringed multiple times. Once because of Anakin’s scathing message, another because he was reminded of his former apprentice’s embarrassingly limited vocabulary - “Master, what’s another word for outrageous? Ugh, screw it.” - Obi-Wan found it appalling that one of his finer qualities never rubbed off on Anakin.  Not for the first time, Obi-Wan wondered where he had gone wrong. 

“Annddd send!” Anakin exclaimed, pressing the “comment” button on the bottom of the page. Unbeknownst to the young knight, his action was rather pointless considering the author had already heard and witnessed the rage-typing of what he wanted to say. 

Anakin returned his datapad to his tunic pocket, “That’ll show that snarky Ben what an - “

A ding rang out into the room. 

Anakin Skywalker paused mid rant to look at his Master, “Obi-Wan, did your datapad just beep?”

Obi-Wan cursed the day he got promoted to the Jedi Council. It was only after rising to the position of councilor did he start keeping his datapad’s notification system on, what with all the extra duties and communications he now had to take on.

The negotiator in him stepped in, “No, I believe it’s from one of the data terminals.”

Although he acted like one at times, Anakin Skywalker was no fool. He was certain that the sound rang out not from the data terminals, nor the command table, nor the PA system. The snappy, one-note chime undoubtedly originated from one of Master Kenobi’s beige tunic pockets. 

Anakin stared at his Master. Obi-Wan stared back. The two Jedi battled for dominance over the truth.

Anakin’s suspicions were raised, and with good reason. Of all the things to lie about in the universe, why on Coruscant would Obi-Wan choose an innocent notification bell to be dishonest about, unless it wasn’t innocent? 

Something more was going on and Anakin Skywalker was going to get to the bottom of it.

“Would you mind showing me your datapad, Master?”

Obi-Wan wouldn’t budge, “Why, that’s rather unnecessary, Anakin. It’s probably just some paperwork sent over by the council.” 

“Then there’s no issue giving me a look, is there?” Anakin challenged.

“It’s possibly confidential, my young friend.” Obi-Wan replied.

“Oh, I’d never tell.” Anakin made it a point to shrug his shoulders.

The two had started circling the strategy table, each calculating what tricks the other had up their sleeves. The holoprojection separated their prudent gazes.

“They’re all a drag. I wouldn’t want to bore a young Knight with all his future ahead of him to death now, would I?” Obi-Wan responded. 

Anakin knew his Master’s strengths lay in his wits and was painfully aware he could not beat Obi-Wan at his own game. In order to win, Anakin would have to turn the table in his favor. 

And so he did.

Grabbing the alloy rim of the anti-gravity strategy table in the center of the room, Anakin spun the floating surface with force, and the sandstone terrain of Geonosis swiveled across both Jedis’ eyes. 

“Anakin, what in Sith hells are you doing?” Obi-Wan couldn’t grasp what was going on, thrown off by his former apprentice’s abruptness (In retrospect, he should have known better). 

He only had a split-second window, but Anakin was able to seize Obi-Wan’s fatal moment of distraction. Swiftly, he threw out his arm and reached for Obi-Wan’s datapad using the Force, pulling the flat screen towards him straight from the Master Jedi’s pocket. 

By the time Obi-Wan realized what nefarious plot had just transpired, it was already too late. The evidence of his crime was in the hands of his former Padawan. His fate was sealed. In despair, he watched as Anakin activated the datapad. In resignation, he looked on as he saw Anakin’s slighted eyes widen, his suspicions confirmed. In exasperation, Obi-Wan braced himself for the melodrama that was about to go down. 

“Master, I think you have some explaining to do.” Anakin folded his arms in front of himself, displeased. 

Blue milk just stinks, Anakin. Obi-Wan wanted to say, but that wouldn’t be very diplomatic of him, nor would it be very helpful against an Anakin Skywalker grudge. No, it would not. 

“Anakin, there’s really not much I can say. It’s purely a personal opinion.” 

But the knight could not be assuaged. And if Anakin was to be completely frank, this squabble wasn’t about his Master’s ridiculous thoughts on blue milk anymore. How could his Master have kept his holoblog a secret from him all these years? It was…It was outrageous! 

Sure he had his secrets, what with his marriage and murders and what nots. But those were big secrets! Not something small and miniscule like a holoblog! And if Obi-Wan would hide something so trivial from him, what else was Obi-Wan not telling him?

“Why didn’t you tell me you have a blog, Obi-Wan?” He said, betrayed. 

“I, I didn’t think it was important.” And that was the truth, well, part of it at least. His decision to keep his blog on the downlow was largely motivated by keeping Anakin from reading those posts from his early twenties, when he admittedly had a bit of a wild streak going on. 

There was no way Anakin Skywalker would not be going over his blog later on. Being a pain in the ass was Anakin’s modus operandi afterall. In the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan spied Anakin already scrolling through his page. Obi-Wan sighed. He was too naive to think that Anakin would at least wait till he was gone to stalk his articles. 

“Obi-Wan, you did what with who in Canto Bight?!”

The Master Jedi groaned, both for the mentioning of Canto Bight and his former apprentice’s erroneous grammar. 

It’s “whom”, Anakin, “whom!”

“QV stands for…That’s Quinlan Vos, isn’t it, Obi-Wan? And, and Master Tachi too! Seriously, Obi-Wan?” 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. For the first time ever he wished that they were on Geonosis sooner. With Anakin on another corner of the battlefield, he could be rid of this tomfoolery. 

Sighing once again, Obi-Wan accepted his fate. He would just have to live with his former Padawan knowing about his - there was no nicer way to put it - dirty secrets. 

If only he had found another hyperspace pastime all those years ago. Who knew running a holoblog could be so dangerous? 

[sabxism]

But I’m Here In Your Doorway

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Based on these lines from this is me trying: 

Pulled the car off the road to the lookout Could've followed my fears all the way down And maybe I don't quite know what to say But I'm here in your doorway

Word count: ~2.6k

Warnings: mentions of and encounter with possible suicide, injuries (blood, bruises, etc), mention of (previous) deaths

Summary: reader loses everything. after she nearly makes an irreversible decision, she goes to Poe for help. 

GIF not mine

The screams of your squadron members bounce around in your head. It was your fault, you knew that. You shouldn’t have set off without checking your ship. Without checking for any trackers. So it wasn’t a surprise when, out of nowhere, a group of TIEs burst out of hyperspace, straight into your fleet like pins being knocked over by 30 flying bowling balls. You had watched, helplessly, as your friends - your family - were picked off one-by-one. As they went up into terrifyingly bright balls of gas and flame and smoke. It was your fault. All your fault. 

Part of you was trying to cling onto the notion that you couldn’t have known, how could you have known? But the majority of your mind beat back those thoughts, letting the sickening guilt take over and push you into a dark corner. Debriefing had been a nightmare. General Organa had, of course, told you that it wasn’t your fault, that it was nobody’s fault but the spy she hadn’t discovered in time. She could sense the weight on your shoulders, sense you falling into a pit inside of yourself. 

After the meeting, she had pulled you aside.

“Y/N. I need you to look at me,” she said, turning your head gently but firmly with her right hand. “It isn’t your fault. You did everything you could. Sometimes, things are just out of our control.”

“I know,” you lied, just wanting this conversation to be over. Leia could sense your apprehension, and sighed.

“Look, I know that nothing I say is going to change how you feel, because I’ve been there, and I know what you’re thinking. I know it’s hard. Trust me.” you look down at the floor, scuffing the tip of your boot across the dusty ground. “It will get better. I promise you.”

“Thanks, general.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Leia?” she asks lightly as you turn to walk away.

“A few more, apparently,” you respond, the ghost of a false smile resting over your face. With that, you turn on your heel and head to your quarters. 

You step through the door as it slides open and sit down on your bed. You reach for your datapad, wanting to distract yourself with something. 

You click the screen on, and your heart drops. Staring back at you are the smiling faces of your squadron. You’re all clustered around Mari’s new droid, with hands on its shiny purple head. She had been so happy to get that little guy. 

Now they were both nothing more than dust drifting through the empty expanse of space.

 You hurl the tablet at the wall, watching as the screen shatters and falls to the floor. 

You place your head in your hands, silent sobs racking your body. You clench your hair in your hands, knuckles turning white. You stand up, body shaking, and walk out of your quarters.

You pass Finn in the hallway. He smiles at you, but you can’t bring yourself to do the same. You feel awful as he looks back at you as you pass him, but at this point there’s no use trying to fix it. You trudge outside and up to your x-wing sitting on the tarmac, the edges of the wings blackened from smoke. You glance around, checking the coast is clear, then scurry up the ladder and into the cockpit. You check the time. 

1800. 

Sighing, you boot up your craft and quickly take off. You cruise over the base a few times, watching everyone go about their day. Like nothing happened. Like 10 of the most beautiful, vibrant souls hadn’t just been snuffed like a match. You swallow the knot in your throat and head for the atmosphere. You need to get away from here. 

-

“General Organa!” Leia turns, to see a frenzied runway tech sprinting towards her. “Y/N took off on an unauthorized flight.” 

Leia swallows thickly, her heart dropping. “How long ago?”

“We noticed she was left just now - but it looks like she’s been gone about an hour.” 

“Then there’s nothing we can do but hope she comes back safely.”

“That’s what I was worried about.”

-

You land on a nearby forest planet, after searching for about ten minutes for a place to touch down. You pick a plateau on the Western side, lowering your land gear as you begin to descend. You hop down from your ship onto the grassy earth, and look around. 

It’s quiet up here. There’s a soft wind blowing, and it weaves delicate fingers through your hair and across your face as you take off your helmet. You let it fall to the ground, and decide to walk around for a bit. You make your way to the edge of the plateau, and look out across the forest beyond. It stretches on for miles, a swath of dark green. The last rays of the sun blaze across the sky, painting the clouds with a pink-orange hue. 

You glance down, and your heart drops to your toes. It’s a long way to the ground below. You begin to back up, but for some reason you find yourself stopping. You get closer to the edge, still looking down. It would be so easy to just take another step. Just one more. All of this would be over. You wouldn’t have to feel this guilt anymore. 

Your knee lifts up slowly.

Realizing what you’re about to do, you scramble back, falling to the dirt. You brace your hands on the ground, digging your fingers into the earth to anchor yourself. Your chest heaves, and your vision spins. The ground seems to buckle, to toss you around. The sky bends and arches above you as you struggle to breathe. You roll over onto your stomach and wrap your arms around your knees. 

You don’t know how long you lie there, but by the time you have the courage to stand up and walk again, the moon is floating in the sky above you, and the stars glimmer against a black backdrop. 

You climb back into your x-wing and sit there, staring at your dashboard. Your eyes meet one of the few pictures leaned against the fuel gague. You and Poe lean against his x-wing a few months ago. You have your arms wrapped around each other. He’s kissing your cheek, and you’re laughing, open-mouthed, your nose scrunched up and your eyes shut tight. 

You take a shuddering breath. Poe. You couldn’t believe what you’d almost done - what you still might do, if you don’t get out of here. You couldn’t leave him like that. You rapidly go through your flight checklist and then take off, headed back to base. 

You land on the tarmac around 0200, exhausted and beaten down by your own thoughts. You hop out of your ship, landing on the ground with a thud. 

You start walking, not really knowing where your legs are taking you, but you end up at Poe’s quarters. You can hear movement inside the room. You raise a trembling hand and knock once.

He opens the door, and his eyes widen. His mouth moves silently, searching for words.

You swallow thickly, a nervous knot tying in your stomach. 

He takes a step toward you, not quite believing what he’s seeing. Leia had told him that you’d left suddenly after their meeting, and he had grown worried that you were hurt, or worse. But here you are, standing in front of him. Your form is limp and you’re drawn into yourself. Your face and neck are caked with blood and dirt, and your eyes are clouded and empty. 

“Hi,” you say weakly. He quickly closes the gap between the both of you, wrapping you in a tight embrace. Your arms hang limp beside you.

“Stardust,” he breathes, holding you tightly. “I was so worried.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, falling down your face and onto Poe’s shoulder. He pulls back, concerned. Cradling your face in his hands, his eyebrows crease with worry. 

He looks down at you, stroking your cheek gently with his thumb. There’s a silent question written across his features. You shake your head tearfully. You don’t know what to say. 

“Baby…” he whispers, pulling you close to his chest again. You clutch at the back of his shirt with shaking hands.“I’m here now - you’re safe. You’re ok, you’re ok, you’re ok.” He repeats those two words over and over like a mantra, equally to himself as to you. “Let’s get you inside, ok?” he says, and you nod. Placing a hand on the small of your back, he guides you into his quarters. 

“I’ll grab some clothes for you,” he says as you sit down on the edge of the bed. He rustles through his drawers, eventually coming up with a long-sleeved olive green shirt and a pair of grey boxer shorts. He sets them on the bed next to you. “Are you good to take a shower?” You think about it for a minute, and slowly shake your head. The idea of being pounded with thousands of tiny droplets makes you want to hide under a blanket. 

“Too much,” you murmur, and he nods in understanding. 

“Ok, love, that’s fine. We do need to clean you off and deal with these cuts, though.” he gestures to the lacerations across your skin. You nod weakly. You hear him pad over to the refresher unit and grab a medkit and some washcloths, which he wets under some running water from the sink. 

He kneels in front of you, and motions for you to take off your flight suit. You slip it halfway off, letting it rest around your waist. Poe sucked in a breath through his teeth as he saw the bruises blooming across your torso and arms. You’d gotten tossed around pretty bad, getting knocked through space by several of the TIEs. You’d slammed your sternum right into the dashboard at one point, and small fragments of something had slashed open nearly every bit of exposed skin and even some under your suit. 

“Y/N…” he says quietly, tearing up. You bite the inside of your cheek, hating to see him so upset. 

He gets to work cleaning your cuts. He’s as gentle as he can be, but you still hiss as the cold water on the washcloth cleans out your cuts, and tears start to fall as he bandages up a particularly bad cut on your stomach. He holds your hand the whole time, letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you need to, never even flinching as your vice grip tightens around his fingers. 

“Ok, baby, let me check your legs and then you’re all set,” he says, and you turn away, face flushing with nervousness. He’s confused for a second, then has a moment of understanding. He’s never seen you naked - you weren’t ready to get intimate yet, so you guys had been taking it slow, and now really wasn’t the best time to breach that barrier. “You can change into the shorts first,” he says quietly, and you look back at him gratefully. 

You make your way to the refresher unit, shutting the door behind you. You peel off your flight suit the rest of the way, followed by your undergarments, crusted with blood from the cuts on your stomach. You pile the discarded clothes in a pile by the shower, and slip on the shirt and shorts Poe had leant you. You take the opportunity to glance into the mirror above the sink, and grimace at the reflection that gazes back at you. Hair messy and tangled, face bruised and covered with small cuts, you were not a pretty sight to behold. Sighing, you head back into the main room. 

Sitting back down on the bed, you lean against the wall and stretch your legs out in front of you. Poe sits down on the mattress next to you, surveying your exposed limbs. They aren’t as bad as the upper half of your body, but they definitely aren’t good. He dabs at the cuts gently, taking your hand again. He mutters sweet nothings as you clench your teeth and shut your eyes tightly for the next few minutes as he finishes up. 

“All done,” he eventually says, and you relinquish your grip on his hand, wiping the tears from your eyes. He looks up at you, and you almost melt at the love in his eyes. You realize in that moment how lucky you are - that no matter what, he’ll always take care of you. Always. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, and he smiles softly, opening his arms. You crawl over to where he’s leaned against the headboard and collapse into his embrace, breathing beginning to even out. 

“You need sleep, baby,” he says, and you nod. “You can stay here, if you want.” You nod again, and he presses a kiss to your hair. “I’ll grab some extra blankets from the closet.” He gets up and goes to retrieve them. You get under his comforter and lay your head down on one of the pillows. Your eyes drift closed.

 Poe pads back over to the bed and pauses, looking down at you. He swallows thickly, tearing up. He makes a promise to himself then and there that he’d never lose you like that. Never again. 

He lays another blanket over you, then switches off the lights. He quickly changes into some sleep clothes and then gets under the covers, laying down facing you. 

“Poe?” you mumble, searching for his face in the dark. 

“Right here, honey,” he says softly, and you inch closer to him, a bit nervous to get too close. He senses your unease and smiles softly. “Cmere,” he says, draping a hand over your waist and pulling you close to him. You tuck your head against his chest, a warm feeling creeping into your very core. Being this close to him is grounding. You take a deep breath in. The scent of the lavender soap he uses clings to his skin, and it washes over you. You listen to his breathing, feel the rise and fall of his chest. 

“I love you,” you breathe, eyes widening as you realize what you just said. The two of you haven’t exactly said it before. You feel Poe freeze beside you, and your heart drops. You mentally kick yourself. How could you say that right now?

“I love you too,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. You blush furiously as he tilts your head up with his thumb and forefinger. “To the edge of the universe and back.” He presses his lips to yours, feather soft. 

“I love you,” you say again, just because you can. He smiles softly. 

“I’m proud of you, I want you to know that,” he says after a while. “For...getting through all this. I know it hurts, and it’ll stay that way for a bit, but…” he pauses, taking your hand in his. “But I’ll always be here if you need me. To talk, or just listen. You can lean on me, ok?”

“Ok,” you say quietly, looking up into his eyes. 

“Ok,” he whispers.

“Ok.” You smile, and his heart flips at the beauty of it. He pulls you into his chest once more, and you’re out like a light almost instantly. He presses his lips to your forehead before drifting off, holding you tightly in his arms.

[polyhexian]

i love that transformers cant decide if datapads are like paper/books and they only hold one document on them or if they’re like tablets and they can send and receive digital files so you just end up with characters like

[selfship-monster-lover]

F/O February Day 12: Kisses

F/O: Megatron

Media: Transformers IDW

Megatron and Lias were laying in bed reading on their datapad and tablet. Megatron had his arm resting underneath Lias' neck. They had been in this position for quite some time now.

Lias was practically half asleep as they scrolled through their tablet, constantly thinking that they should just stop at this part and read the rest tomorrow as they continued to read on anyway.

It wasn't until they looked at the clock on their tablet, which read 2:43, that they decided to finally turn their tablet off and lay it on the nightstand beside the bed. They let out a yawn and laid back down on Megatron's arm. Laying on their side they took Megatron's servo into their own hands and gave his knuckles a quick kiss.

Megatron smiled at the sudden affection, brushing a digit against their cheek before leaning down and kissing the top of their head.

"It's late," Lias states, "You should get some rest too." They pepper his wrist with a few kisses before pulling the blankets up over Megatron and themself.

"I suppose you're right." He responds, turning his datapad off and setting it on the nightstand on his side of the bed. He then turned over, wrapping his arms around Lias. They roll over to face him and place a kiss on his neck, making him smile again.

He kisses the top of their head again and they move up to place their lips on his. Megatron closes his optics, melting into the kiss as he places a servo on the back of their head to hold them there for a minute. Once they pull away he opens his optics and they nuzzle their face into his neck. He pets the back of their head and pulls them closer to him.

"Good night Megatron." Lias whispers.

"Good night, my darling."

"I love you."

"I love you too." He smiles, closing his optics as he waits to fall asleep.

[joel-millerr]

Pushing Each Others Limits

Chapter Four of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10k

Summary: You and the Child share an intimate moment. Mando continues to boss you around, and this time you’ve had enough, choosing to defy him because you’re a brat.

Warnings: oral sex (man receiving), drinking, doing sexual stuff under the influence, dom/sub mentions, angst, slight gambling, a little bit of fluff with the Child, mentions of death/mourning

A/N: also I did a little bit of research on sabacc and then realized it’s a lot more intricate than I thought so watch me make shit up about the game ahahaha

-------

“And why can’t I come with you?”

Mando’s sigh is heavily distorted by the vocoder, and the eye slit in the helmet continues to study you. Hands resting on his hips, he hovers over your body, scolding you like a child. “Because I said so.”

Chuffing out a scoff, your eyes roll dramatically as you press him again, forcing to crane your neck in order to maintain your gaze, “That’s such bullshit, Mando.”

“Too fucking bad.”

Fists white knuckling at your sides, your eyebrows are pulled together tightly, feeling the childlike anger bubbling inside of you. Deep down, you know Mando’s right. It’s becoming increasingly riskier for you to keep roaming the streets, but being stuck in the hangar with Peli is the last thing you want to be doing. You’d much rather be out, no matter how dangerous it might be.

“I am more than capable of handling my own, thank you for very much.” You warn before stomping your way over to the door to the hangar, but before you can even get close enough to the door, your body is yanked backwards, a large hand gripping your arm and whipping you to face the Mandalorian.

“Can you just listen for once?” He growls, broad chest looming over your smaller figure. Your throat goes dry instantly—this being the first time in two days that he’s been this close to you.

Neither of you have spoken about what happened on your first night here, and since then Mando’s been keeping his distance. Once again, he’s keeping you at bay, forcing you to guess what the hell is going on under that bucket of a helmet he wears.

Having a knack for reading people, it’s always been impossible to hide things from you because you were continuously capable of finding out the truth based on body language or facial expressions. Given the fact that Mando’s face is covered by kriffing beskar, you have no way of trying to get a read on him. It’s just a blank space, and no matter how hard your eyes focus on the slightest movement of his body or tilt of his head, you’re stuck guessing what he could be thinking.

So in truth, you’re a little resentful, and hurt. What happened in that alley was more than just a spur of the moment type of thing. You felt it—it had been building up since you both met, and since then the tension had become so disgustingly thick that it was bound to take you both over, but now? It’s like you’re back to square one. Actually no, it’s like he’s purposely ignoring you, as if he doesn’t want anything to do with you, but has no choice since you’re essentially stuck with him.

But despite this gnawing feeling that you’ve worn out your welcome, you’d still rather spend the day with him than with Peli. At least with Mando, the chances of him making small talk are low; an outburst between you and the owner of the hangar is much more likely.

And now you’re stuck in a stare down with Mando. Visor watching you, you stare back in defiance with one eyebrow raised, and your jaw angled. He probably thinks the longer he keeps his gaze on you that you’ll eventually give in to what he wants, but you’re not that submissive. You rarely give into intimidation, and quite honestly, there’s a part of you that enjoys seeing him get this worked up. Wanting to know just how far you can push your luck, you take one step closer until you’re merely inches away from cool chrome durasteel. Your body is burning up, heartrate rising and rising until it’s thumping against your ribcage, and you swear you can see his chest puff out slightly.

The hand on your arm releases and balls up as his side. Quick breaths emit from the vocoder, and you bite down on your lip to stop the smile from creeping up on your lips. It shouldn’t bring you this much satisfaction seeing him get agitated, but your ego is flourishing right now.

Pushing your limits even further, you lean into his body ever so slowly, and whisper breathlessly into the side of his helmet, “Please let me come with you.”

Mando’s shoulders stiffen and his chest heaves, the cuirass brushing against your breasts. You start to think he might be considering letting you come with him, given your shameless efforts seducing him to your will. He stays quiet for far too long, and the air is starting to get thicker, your ability to breathe is becoming too difficult.

Just when you start to think you’re in control of the situation, he presses into you and your forced to take a step back to keep yourself from falling backwards. His broad chest encompasses you once again, demonstrating that any control you had was just him manipulating you into thinking that. “No.” He commands, the syllable ripping through the modulator, and just like that, the argument ends. Not bothering to wait for your rebuttal, he saunters passed you, and disappears through the door of the hangar.

You want to scream; you want to rip your hair out like an immature kid who didn’t get what they wanted, but you stand there dumbfounded. What happened? Were you so naïve as to think that you had any kind of control over the situation? Was he just letting you believe that you have any chance in deciding what the outcome of the argument would be?

Hearing another door swoosh open, your head turns towards the sound to see Peli exiting her office and heading in direction of the ship. Her reaction to seeing you still here is a mix of disappointment and annoyance. You see her roll her eyes and curse under her breath, and even though you can’t make out what she said, you know it wasn’t anything kind.

She saunters over to Crest to begin any last-minute tweaks that it might need, her back facing you. Ideally, today would be the day to squash your quarrel with her, since you’re both stuck with each other for the rest of the day, and having to tip-toe around each other just because neither of you refuse to be the first to bring up what happened all those years ago just seems juvenile.

Taking a deep, almost lung burning breath in an effort to release all the anger concerning Mando, you push down any pride you have and make a beeline towards Peli. You know she can hear your feet hitting the ground as you approach her, and you observe her posture change—she tries to disappear further into the Crest, pretending to be so busy that she could completely ignore you, but you’re too determined to squash your issues to give up now.

“Can I help with anything?” You ask just as get closer to her. Peli’s back stays glued to you, she doesn’t even bother looking in your direction before answering. “No.”

Biting down on your jaw and fighting the urge to roll your own eyes, your lips press into a thin line before prodding her again. “Peli, I don’t want any trouble. I can helpful.”

This seems to get her attention because her back stiffens, head turning slightly in your direction before her words come out like venom. “Even if I wanted help, the last person I’d ask it from is you.”

Her words cause you to recoil, only now realizing just how much resentment and bitterness for you lies deep inside her. The guilt that follows causes your fingers to twitch at your sides, chew the inside of your cheek and stand there awkwardly, not wanting to walk away but also not having anything to ease the anxiety in the air. The only thing you can think of is to try to make conversation about the ship. Taking a few steps back and leaning your shoulder against the side of the Crest, you begin to speak gently, “When Mando and I were on Sorgan, I had noticed the beginning’s a fuel leak, but I wasn’t able to fix it since I didn’t have any handy equipment on me.”

An obnoxious sneer is released from Peli as she begins to march around the Crest, checking off her to-do list on the datapad in her hands. “I don’t see how you would have been able to do that even if you did have the proper tools.”

“I’m a very capable mechanic, Peli.” You snap back, trailing behind her. Growing up surrounded by ships has given you an extensive knowledge into how a ship runs—the intricate mechanics involved in keeping a ship in good condition. Therefore, you knew what you were talking about. If anyone could go toe-to-toe with you when it came to repairing anything, it was Peli.  

Finally pulling her eyes away from the tablet in her hands to look at you, she mumbles, “Don’t you mean a smuggler?” through gritted teeth, practically spitting the words at you.

Your weight shifts to one side, a hand placed firmly on your hip and clamping hard on your jaw to keep yourself from impulsively saying something you might regret later, you take your time trying to find the right words to respond with. “Look, you’re stuck with me all day, because somebody didn’t want to draw more attention to themselves, so we’re going to have to learn to deal with each other just for today. I know I can be civil, but can you?”

Peli throws her arms up, shrugging theatrically before going back to take notes on her datapad. “Just as long as you stay out of my way, I got no problems.”

Realizing there may never be a time to squash your quarrels with her, you retreat inside the Crest for some time alone. Climbing up the ladder to the cockpit, you settle down in one of the passenger chairs. The Child fusses in his pram, and sleepy eyes peer up at you, that gentle, childlike expression seems to make all your troubles disappear in an instant. Your head cocks to the side, admiring and gazing upon this little green creature.

His tiny arms reach out for you and you lean over to pick him up in your arms. He sits on your lap, a petite hand stretching out to touch your face. Your neck leans forward, closing the space between you and the Child. Three fingers caress your cheek, and just as that happens, a rush of emotions overwhelm you. It’s a familiar feeling—like when you reunite with an old friend after years of going your separate ways. All those years apart means nothing because now you’ve found each other. That kind of love—a rare kind of connection, usually found only in soulmates or family. You’ve only ever experienced it as familial—your parents were your soulmates. They meant everything you, and from this little baby in your lap, you feel it in him too. His giant eyes look into you, as if he’s letting you in on a secret—one he’s never felt before and is unable to express to others. It hits the same spot inside of you. That yearning for familial love and acceptance—devoid of judgement, just pure, kind adoration that’s been buried deep inside of you. Flashes of the Mandalorian flood into your mind, coming in quick bursts that almost make your head spin.

A large mammal with a giant horn on its snout. A mudhorn.

A female brunette.

She’s my friend! Cara is my friend!

A room engulfed in flames.

Let me have a warrior’s death…This is the way.

Sadness, love, a consciousness to protect—it’s all consuming. This is a bond between father and child, you now realize. The intensity in which the Child cares for Mando, it’s not only remarkable but heartwarming. In five years, you haven’t even come close to the kind of bond they clearly share, and it’s something you didn’t know you ached for. Actually, you probably knew on some level you craved this kind of undying love but were forced to reject and push down deep inside you.

The touch on your cheek suddenly disappears, and the Child falls backwards, just in time for you to catch his back with your other hand to keep him from falling out of your lap. Whatever he’s just shown you had taken all the force he had in his little body, because his eyes flutter shut, and almost instantly falling asleep in your arms. You don’t know how to show him that you now understand their relationship, but you wonder if on some level, he already knows. There’s clearly something that binds you and him together, something for whatever reason you’re unable to explain, but you somewhat subconsciously know this is the first time the Child has allowed anyone to know this. Gently placing him in his crib and shutting the pram, you slouch back in your seat and wonder if the Mandalorian knows just how much he means to this little gremlin.

Grogu.

--

Somehow you’ve fallen asleep. You don’t remember even closing your eyes but when they bat open, dusk has fallen on Mos Eisley. Looking over to your left haphazardly, the lack of a green baby in the pram shoots panic up and down your spine, causing you to jump to your feet immediately. Your eyesight is still hazy, but your feet are working on autopilot, searching frantically for him in the cockpit. When you see no obvious sign of him, you dash for the ladder. Taking the rungs two at a time, you all but fly down to the hull still hyped up on adrenaline, praying to the Maker that you did not lose Mando’s kid.

Once you reach the hull of the ship, you hear Peli’s voice and a series of noises from her pit droids. Descending down the side ramp, you see them gathered around a table, playing some kind of gambling game; probably sabacc. The little one is perched up on a seat at the table, ogling what the others are doing but not actually taking part in the festivities. Panic begins to subside, and a deep sigh of relief comes from you, your hand clutching your chest.

Noticing your presence, the Child coos and Peli looks up at you for a second before turning her attention back to the game in front of her. “I heard the kid fussing and when I came to check on him, you were asleep so I figured I’d take him so he doesn’t wake you up.”

“Oh, well thank you,” You didn’t know Peli was capable of being that kind, and it warms you to see such a different side to her.

Continuing to stand there awkwardly for a few seconds trying to decide what you should do next, your jaw stiffens, feeling like you’re intruding on their game. Pivoting slowly, you’re about to make for the ship again when Peli calls you over. “You still good at the game?”

Clearing your throat, you take a step towards her before responding, hands twiddling in front of you. “Uh, yeah I used to play all the time with my crew.”

She lets out a chuff of air, no doubt at the fact you said ‘crew’ as if to make fun of you, but you choose to ignore her obvious jest.

“Take a seat,” She says and then points to a chair off to the side of the hangar. You walk over to fetch it and lug it over to the table, choosing to sit down next to the Child. He peers up at you briefly before turning his big black eyes down to the game in front of you both.

“You’ll come in on the next round,” She informs you.

“Okay.”

--

“So,” Peli begins as she observes the cards in her hand. “How did you end up with Mando?”

Your hand rubs the nape of your neck absentmindedly, the other holding the cards in your hand. Your eyes are glued to the cards, but your mind focuses on something entirely different. “He had my tracking fob.”

“And he didn’t turn you in?” She says in surprise.

“Well he did, but turns out it was actually the Empire who had the hit on me so…” You answer.

“Why didn’t he just let the Imps have at you?” Curiosity is at the forefront of her voice, but there’s a hint of a sneer in the way she asks you—like she’s shocked he chose not to let the Empire do whatever they wanted to do to you.

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly, unsure of the reason yourself. He’s never actually told you why he didn’t just let the Imps take you, and you’ve been meaning to ask. It just never seemed like there was a right time to bring it up.

“Hmmm,” Peli hums.

It really was something that you wanted to know. Foolishly, you could say it was because you had developed a mutual respect for each other since your capture, but realistically, it probably came down to the fact that he hated the Empire, and didn’t want them to get what they wanted. If the latter were true, it would be hard to disguise the disappointment that would so clearly be plastered on your face whenever he’d choose to tell you. That’s part of the reason why you haven’t asked him yet. Often times, not knowing the truth has saved you from a lot of pain. This was just another one of those times. Never mind the fact that you also don’t know why you two almost fucked in an alley a couple nights ago. Just add that to the list of truths you didn’t want to know.

“Hey,” Peli’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “It’s your turn. You drawing, staying or swapping?”

Looking down at the cards in your hand and mentally adding them all up, you stand at 22. That’s almost a guaranteed win unless someone else at the table has a better hand than you do—which you doubt. It’s harder to tell what a droid’s hand might be given the fact that they…don’t have the ability to express anything facially and therefore have the best poker face in the galaxy, but you’ve been keeping count of the cards left in the deck, and you’re almost positive that you have the best hand at the table. Even Peli is starting to look nervous—her leg bounces off the ground, and you catch her furrowing her eyebrows. You have this win in the bag.

“All right, we ready to call it?” Peli asks the table. Her three droids mumble incoherently, and her eyes shift to you for a second to hear your answer. Your head dips forward in accordance and Peli offers a slight nod in approval. “Okay, you womp rats. Let’s do this.”

The droid immediately to her right shows his hand—19. Perfect, you’re one step closer to victory.

“Ha, close but not close enough!” Peli exclaims.

The next pit droid shows their hand—21. Okay, that’s a little too close to your number but it’s not good enough to beat you. It’s getting harder and harder to hide the shit-eating grin that’s slowly sneaking up on your face. Forcing your lips into a thin line, your body threatens to jump up and down in celebration.

The droid to your left shows their cards and once again, its hand isn’t as good as yours. They stand at -20 and now you’re all but shooting out of your seat with excitement.

Peli catches your attention by saying your name. You crane your neck to face her. “Your turn, smuggler.”

You can’t help but roll her eyes at her. It’s not that she’s wrong, but surely she could have thought of something more clever than that. Mouth curling up in a toothy smile, you—almost arrogantly, throw your cards on the table. “BOOM! 22, read ��em and weep suckers!” The droids beep disappointedly, their little fists slamming down on the table, causing the cards and the miscellaneous pool in the middle to tumble around.

“Take it easy there, Spice-y…” Peli warns, her eyebrows dancing as she looks at you with her own shit-eating smile. Your face contorts in confusion as she slowly places her cards face up on the table.

“SON OF A BITCH!” You yell when you see her score.

Kriffing -23.

“‘Read ‘em and weep suckers’,” She mocks, letting out an obnoxiously loud laugh and wrapping her arms around the rewards in the middle. To be fair, it was all her parts anyway and you have no credits, so you didn’t actually lose anything—except your pride. The kid to your right laughs, his little arms waving up in down, totally unable to control his joy.

“How did—?”

“Kid, I’ve been playing this since before you were born. You don’t think I have some kind of strategy?”

“This is supposed to be a game based on luck,” Emphasizing the word luck because how in the Maker did she manage to win? You counted every card; you were so sure that you had this game in the bag.

“Guess I’m just lucky then.”

Rolling your eyes into the next galaxy and using your fists to push them off your knees to rise to your feet, you only notice then how dark it’s gotten since you woke up from your nap in the cockpit. Mando should be back by now. Eyes drifting off to the door of the hangar, he should be back any second, right? That sudden realization makes you cringe—you shouldn’t be ‘hoping’ for anything from him. You’re just…friends? Acquaintances? Making a mental note to add that to the list of things you’ll probably never know, you sigh to yourself.

“I’m gonna head out for a bit. The kid’s fine with you, right?” You ask Peli, keeping your eyes peeled to the hangar door.

“Didn’t Mando tell you to stay here?”

This time your neck cranes towards her direction, raising an eyebrow at her. “When have I ever done what someone’s told me to do?” You begin to say as your feet make for the door.

A rush of exhilaration and thrill hit you once the door closes behind you. Technically, you’re not doing anything wrong. Mando said you couldn’t go with him—he said nothing about you going off on your own, and besides the city is almost in complete darkness by now so the chances of anyone even paying any attention to you is pretty low. Even more so, you know this place like the back of your hand, and in the event that someone does identify you, it would be all too easy to zigzag your way through the streets and find your way back to the hangar without anything catching up to you. And since it’s your last night here, why shouldn’t you take one last walk around the town? After all, this was your home for many, many years so why wouldn’t you want to take one last nostalgic walk through your past? Especially if you’re trying to have the closure you didn’t allow yourself to have the last time you left Tatooine.

Not having a specific destination in mind, you let your feet guide you aimlessly through the city. Flashes of your youth appear in your mind, and you can see your younger self walking through these exact streets; sometimes with your parents, sometimes with Tye, sometimes just by yourself. As you watch yourself navigate through the roads, laughing and smiling with loved ones, you’re reminded of all the pain that’s happened to you since. Everyone you’ve ever loved is gone—dead or presumed dead. Every single person who’s brought happiness in your life, anyone who’s ever cared for you…gone.

It was right at this moment that you realize, you never had the time to mourn Tye’s death. There wasn’t time for you to process it—to accept it and move on. Instead, you had just forgotten all about it because there were too many other things to focus on, but now as you stroll through the city, the same city you and him would spend 90% of your time in, the realization that he’s gone pierces through you like dozens of vibroblades stabbing you in every corner of your body. An ache you didn’t know was stirring up inside you comes right to the surface, feeling empty and fucking alone once again.

He was your best friend.

He was the only family you had left. Tye was flawed, there’s no denying that, but he was with you right until the very last second. He tried to save your life—more times than you can count. Tye died trying to save your life and this is how you repay him? By fantasizing about the man who basically killed him? It shouldn’t be like this; you shouldn’t be with Mando. He took away the only family you had, and you’re out here wondering how mad he’ll be when he finds out you left the hangar when he told you to stay put?

But… Mando saved your life. He could have let the Imps carry you off but, he didn’t. He came back to rescue you. He told you to stay in the hangar for your own safety. Stars, he’s even out looking for some kind of lead as to why the Empire wants you.

It’s just too much. There are too many things you don’t know, too many conflicting emotions inside you, you’re unable to sift through them all and come to a logical conclusion. As you got older, it became easy to compartmentalize your feelings—locking some away and never allowing yourself the luxury of experiencing those again and for a while, it worked, but now everything’s changed. A Mandalorian came rushing into your life and has changed everything about the way you’ve been living. Nothing about you is the same anymore. The control you had is no longer there, slipping through your fingers like when rain slithers off leaves. Each drop of stability, and restriction is slipping out of your reach and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it.

You’re not sure when you started heading for the cantina, but you come to your senses just as your figure slides through the door. At the top of the stairs, the cantina is overwhelmed with people from all walks of life. Now that nightfall has stumbled on the city, all cantinas will look like this one—visitors, and locals alike all crammed together, dancing, drinking and gambling. Deciding against your better judgement to find a quiet place to sit alone and drink your thoughts away, you opt to sit at the bar. To make matters even more daring, you sit at the bar with your back to the entrance of the cantina. While others might not even think twice to do that, to you it’s stirring and terrifying all at the same time.

“What can I get ya?” The droid asks, his voice box distorting from how loud he actually has to speak in order for you to hear him.

“Just give me strongest thing you got,” You shout back, making a mental note to find a way to pay them back later.

“Rough day?” A gruff voice prompts.

Straining your neck to your right, a rather good-looking man back stares back at you, elbows resting on the counter. The cantina might be dimly lit, but you can make out some of his features. Floppy, black hair tickles the tops of his eyebrows, making his blue eyes stand out against the dark contrast. A tidy beard cascades across his cheeks and jawline, and for the first time in a while, you see a smile that doesn’t immediately trigger your fight or flight response.

“Uh, yeah,” You reply as the bartender hands you a cup full of a deep red liquid. Not taking a second to think about it, you grab the cup and throw the drink back, the alcohol hitting your tastebuds makes your body shiver involuntarily, but as it makes its way down your throat, the liquid warms your insides, relaxing the tautness in your shoulders. You motion to the bartender for another drink and the kind stranger giggles.

“Must have been a hell of a rough day,”

“Any day on Tatooine is a rough day.” You jest as the droid refills your cup.

“I wouldn’t know. It’s my first time here.”

You nearly choke on your drink, completely taken aback by the statement. “Why the hell are you here, then?”

The man’s head cocks to one side, and eyebrow raising in confusion, but that smile is still plastered on his face. He really does have a kind smile.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be imposing.” You correct, worried you might have offended him in some way.

“Not at all,” He shrugs. “I had to make a delivery here. I’m heading out at first light.”

“Oh?”

“What about you? What brings you here?”

Despite the alcohol lowering your defenses, you always know to keep your answers short and vague, so as to not draw attention to yourself. “Oh I’m just passing through.”

The brunette lets out a loud laugh, an infectious one that makes you laugh in return. He shakes his head, causing his disheveled hair to brush against his brow bone. The longer you look at him, the more you can feel arousal stirring up in your stomach. He really is attractive, in an easy, non-intimidating way.

Stars, this isn’t why you wanted to go out.

“How vague of you,” He quips.

“Gotta keep them on their toes, right?”

“That I have to agree with.”

Taking the cup in your hand and holding it up in front of you, he proposes a toast. “To keeping them on their toes”. The stranger holds up his own cup and knocks it against yours, albeit a little too aggressively because some of the liquid in your cup flies out of the mug and spills onto your tunic.

“Fuck, Maker I’m so sorry—” He starts to say but your hand comes up to stop him.

“It’s fine,” You assure him. “It’s not my finest shirt anyway.”

“At least let me pay for your drinks. It’s the least I can do since I may have completely ruined your shirt.”

Nodding your head, he calls the droid over and gestures for two more drinks.

--

Three drinks later, and the alcohol is definitely getting to you, now. More so than it did back on Sorgan, given that you’ve had just a fraction of whatever this red stuff is compared to an entire bottle of spotchka. Whatever this droid gave you was some powerful stuff. You’re not completely inebriated, but you’re definitely more relaxed than you were before, the warmth of the alcohol travelling through your system and making you a lot more comfortable and laid-back. To make matter worse, the alcohol has unfortunately made this strange man a lot more attractive and the thought of him touching you is making your cunt ache.

“Look, maybe I’m misreading things, but would you want to head back to my ship?”

It’s a bad idea—like, a really bad idea. You’ve known this man for maybe half an hour and you’re definitely not in the right state of mind to be accepting his offer. Actually, the fact that you’re drunk isn’t the problem. The real problem is that you’re being hunted by the fucking Empire and you have no idea if this guy is trying to find a way to lure you to his ship or if he really is just a kind traveler. Regardless, you shouldn’t say yes.

You really fucking shouldn’t.

Because you haven’t said anything, he begins to backtrack. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I take it back.”

Before your brain can control the words spewing out of your mouth, your ears hear you say, “No, you didn’t offend me at all.” Placing a hand over his on the counter and squeezing it in reassurance, the touch sends sparks up your arm and sends it straight to the apex of your thighs. You’re definitely in the wrong state of mind right now, but you’ve gone too far to pull back now and honestly, if Mando won’t fuck you, you’ll just have to find someone else who will. “Lead the way.”

Swallowing the rest of your drink in one big guuuulp, your buddy of the night throws some credits down on the counter and thanks the bartender for the drinks and all but jumps to his feet. He links his hand with yours and begins escorting you out of the cantina.

The cool air feels amazing against your red-hot cheeks, your heart thumping in your chest full of danger, excitement, and arousal. This reminds you of your smuggling days. After a job, still feeling the aftershocks of your dicey run, you’d find someone worth your while and let them fuck you senseless in your ship. It makes you feel like you again. This is what you do—this is the routine you’ve created for yourself. This is familiar.

Giggling like a bunch of teenagers, neither of you are able to hide your eagerness. Not even after a couple blocks walk away from the cantina, he’s pushing you against the nearest wall of a quiet street, trapping you with his body. His breath reeks of alcohol, but in that sweet way that’s even more intoxicating. Your lips part, eyes staring at his own plush lips just a few inches away from you. This wouldn’t be possible with Mando. You could never look at his face; look at his lips and crush them with yours, or feel his tongue brush against yours. No, this will have to do.

A gentle hand comes up and holds your chin in place. He’s not as tall as Mando either, you barely have to strain your neck to look up at him, but this will have to do. Bringing his face close to yours, you think he’s about to kiss you, but his lips pass yours and comes right to your ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispers, his hot breath touching your even hotter skin. His voice sends shivers down your spine—not the way Mando’s voice does but this will have to do.

Your hands come flying up to grab fistfuls of his hair, pulling him back just so you’re inches away from each other’s face again. It would barely take any effort to close the gap and feel his lips against yours. Closing your eyes, you wait for him to make the first move. Despite you two knowing absolutely nothing about the other, he seems to catch on to your body language quickly, because the next thing you know, he’s crushing his lips on yours.

It’s not elegant or gentle, it’s needy and desperate. His teeth clash against yours, causing you both to pull away momentarily to chuckle before dipping back to each other’s mouths—more elegantly this time.

His mouth tastes like alcohol, it fills your nostrils and tastebuds with such aggression, it’s almost attacking them. Pressing his body further into yours, you could feel the outline of his hard cock brushing your thigh, forcing out a moan through your lips. In return, he forces his tongue through your open mouth, flicking your bottom lip and meeting yours. The hand on your cheek disappears, then both of them travel down your neck, grabbing your breasts and giving them a gentle squeeze before trailing down your abdomen and settling on your waist, wrapping them around you tightly in an effort to pull you closer to him.

Your mind tries to focus on this moment, on the man touching and kissing you, but you’re unable to shake the feeling you’re being watched. Pulling away from him, your back goes rigid at the sight of the Mandalorian just a few feet away from you two. The stranger from the cantina turns his head and nearly jumps back at the sight.

“What are you doing?” The Mandalorian growls, his vocoder scratching dangerously low, making your whole body shiver in fear.

“Uh—I—uh—we were—uh—” You manage to choke out, entire physique trembling from head to toe.

His helmet turns to face the stranger you were just making out with and he all but snarls when addressing him. “I suggest you leave.”

Turning to you, his eyes wide shot in absolutely terror, you can assume this is the first time he’s ever seen a Mandalorian, let alone a seething Mandalorian. “Are y-you gon-n-na be okay?” He stutters.

“She’ll be fine.” Mando answers for you.

Unable to get rid of the lump in your throat, you offer him a nod and within seconds, the brunette is gone. You’re left alone with Mando, in a horribly lit street in Mos Eisley—just like you were a couple days ago.

“I told you to stay at the hangar.” He spits out from what you assume is gritted teeth. The helmet gives no insight as to what Mando’s expression could be but somehow the visor burning into you right now is the most frightening and the most arousing thing you can imagine.

“I just wanted some fresh air.”

“The hangar is an open space. It’s full of fresh air.”  

Noticing his hands clenched into fists at his sides and his back as stiff as a board, your little stunt has infuriated him more than you thought it would, and for some sick reason, that turns you on even more.

“Let’s go. Now.” He orders, body whipping around so fast his cape makes a loud whoosh noise as it whisks behind him.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the mental exhaustion from the day, but you’re pretty fucking tired of being bossed around by him. Despite being somewhat intoxicated and feeling your body sway, you straighten out your shoulders, cross your arms against your chest and muster as much strength as you can and say, “No.”

Mando stops in his tracks, the tip of his helmet turning ever so slowly until his head can’t turn any more. “What did you say?”

“I said no.”

Before you can fully understand what’s happening, Mando rushes towards you. At first you want to recoil from his sudden movement, but you plant yourself further into the ground, continuing to hold yourself in your stance.

“You don’t scare me.” Whether or not you’re trying to convince him or yourself that, it’s unclear, but the fact that Mando doesn’t pull away indicates that he clearly doesn’t believe you.

“I don’t?” He asks coyly as he cocks his head to the side, knowing damn well what he’s doing.

Moving into your body at a dangerously slow rate, your body mimics his as you feel yourself gradually leaning back. You’re losing balance, and if you don’t find some way to steady yourself, you’ll end up falling back on your bum. Thinking quickly, your left leg flies behind you, enabling you to get your footing in the sand and keep from falling backwards.

“Why does your body language tell me otherwise?” He’s downright taunting you right now. Mando gets off seeing you struggle under his authority.

“Because you’re pushing yourself into me!” You shriek.

“I don’t see you fighting back.”

It’s at this moment you realize, no matter how many men you meet in cantinas, no matter how many of them you spend the night with or even a moment with, no matter how drunk you get yourself in order to enjoy these one night stands, none of that will ever matter because it’ll never compare to how Mando makes you feel. No one in this kriffing galaxy will ever get your heart racing and your blood pounding like he does. No one will be able to drive you fucking crazy the way he does.

The stranger at the bar might have been able to get you wet and aching to be touched—probably not even wanting to be touched by him though. However, it’s nothing compared to the burning pit of desire that’s pooling inside you in Mando’s presence. He’s only touched you once but it wasn’t enough. Nothing will ever be enough. You want him, you fucking need him more than you would ever admit.

From the way you see it, you have two options to choose from. You can either yield to Mando’s dominance and follow him back to the Crest, feeling guilty and sorry for yourself or you can challenge him back, establish your own independence and see how far you can defy him. Given that you can be a pretty big fucking brat, you opt for the latter.

Pushing yourself forward while using your left leg and lowering your arms to your sides for extra balance, your breasts graze against his beskar cuirass while your legs shift to stand shoulder-width apart. Having to crane your neck upwards to look straight into the T of his visor, it’s somewhat uncomfortable but you’re trying to prove a point right now, so you’ll deal with the stress on your neck until the point’s been made clear.

Your chest is heaving, heartrate unbelievable fast as you stand so fucking close to each other, neither of you wanting to break the almost suffocating suspense by speaking. No, right now you’re both locked in a fight for dominance, wondering who will be the one to either pull away or close the tiny gap between your bodies. It might be the alcohol, but you’re feeling rather audacious, and you want to continue pushing him, push him passed his limits until he becomes the feral animal you know is clawing inside of him. The adrenaline rush you had kissing that kind stranger from the bar is fucking nothing compared to this. This is making your veins ignite with fire, burning through your entire core and not even the breeze can cut the heat radiating off your skin.

“Stop,” Mando says breathlessly, sounding more like a plea than an order.

“I don’t see you fighting back,” You repeat, drawling out every word so he knows you’re mocking him. The tables have flipped, you’re the one holding the power and it’s fucking invigorating. Having a Mandalorian practically beg you is sending sparks of arousal right to your throbbing cunt, resisting the urge to rub your thighs together to relieve some of the pain building up in the apex of your legs.

“You wouldn’t want to see me fight back.” Fuck, this is getting too much.

The baritone of his voice scratches low in the vocoder, sending shocks straight to your belly, while also suggesting he’s pulling back from fully allowing himself to do whatever his body hungers for. But you’re not, in fact you’re just getting started because now you know you’re affecting him, and the liquor in your bloodstream is making you a lot bolder than you normally would be.

“I don’t think you could fight back.” Obviously a lie, you know damn well he can fight back but you’re incessant need to toy with him, to continue to mock him until he absolutely loses his fucking mind is too inviting, you can’t stop yourself.

“Maker, I said stop.” Mando growls, drawing closer towards you to the point you’re leaning back again, invading your space so deliciously. Your sense of smell is engulfed with the aroma of metal and his musk, you’re practically drunk on him alone. Knowing you’ll need to choose your next words wisely; you opt for the ones you know will force him over the edge. Swallowing the gigantic lump in your throat, your gaze deepening into the eye slit of his visor, you speak low and as cunning as you can giving the current circumstance.

“Make me.”

In a swift movement, Mando’s gloved hands come up and grip your biceps, not hard enough to hurt but definitely strong enough for you to understand who’s actually in charge. He holds you tightly as he all but pushes you against the closest wall, the duracrete digging into your shoulder blades. Pressing into you, the beskar holding you in place, you feel the bulge in his pants grinding against your lower stomach. Your pussy is disgustingly wet, panties drenched as they stick to you.

Head pushed against the wall behind you, it’s difficult to properly look into the black slit of his helmet, but you try your hardest to maintain eye contact with him, to show him you’re not backing down without a proper fight…or whatever else might occur. His own chest is heaving, armour flush against your torso, locking you in this intimate moment. Wanting to touch him, one of your hands draws up from your side slowly, not entirely sure where exactly to place it. Flicking your tongue along your lower lip, and using the liquid courage that’s a mix of liquor and arousal, you push your palm between your bodies and grab hold of the growing erection in his pants. The noise that Mando makes is guttural, one of his hands letting go of your bicep to punch into the wall behind you.

“Fuck,” He moans, the helmet coming passed your head to press into the duracrete structure. The very end of the helmet scratches the crook of your neck, and you lean into it, feeling the beskar bring coolness to your hot cheek. Your hand continues to grope him, gently rubbing against his pants causing friction and feeling his cock twitch in your palm.

“We h-have to get back to t-t-the ship,” Mando pleads, still rough and low as he seems to be getting angrier with himself because he’s unable to pull away, and his body moves closer into yours, pushing you hard against the rough surface behind you while his beskar is flush on your chest, making it hard to breathe and difficult for you to continue teasing him. Quick, short breaths are coming consistently through the vocoder, your pussy gushing hearing his sweet groans.

Your right hand fumbles its way to his belt, both hands now frantically trying to undo the zipper of his pants. The helmet dips down, resting it on your shoulder as he watches one of your hands disappear into his trousers, and play with the waistband, toying with him. The scorching heat between your thighs is becoming too much, your cunt throbbing uncontrollably, begging to alleviate some of the tension but right now, this is about Mando. This is for Mando.

When you feel confident enough that he’s fully under your control, your hand pushes through the waistband and cups his erection. Mando curses under his breath, grinding himself against your hold in a feeble attempt to please himself. Maker, his cock is big—you don’t even have to look at it to feel it’s the biggest one you’ve ever felt. If you thought you were turned on before, this new information sends ripples through your entire body, your mouth watering, desperately wanting to taste him. With the little room you have to move, you begin lowering yourself down to the ground, and drop to your knees. The sand cuts into your pants, it’s somewhat uncomfortable, but you push through the discomfort because you’re about to put his cock in your mouth and drive him fucking crazy.

The street is barely lit, which unfortunately means you can barely see what’s in front of you, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing right now matters other than making him feel as good as he made you feel a couple nights ago. You want to show him what he’s been missing, what he’s been denying himself. Lowering his trousers just enough to spring his cock free, it bounces just inches from your lips. Heat continuously building in your belly, you adjust your hand to hold him at the base, and admire him. Your head bobs forward, tongue coming out to lick the precome forming at the tip of his length. A big hand comes down firmly on your shoulder, steadying himself as he continues to curse into the helmet.

“F-fuck, that feels good.”

Letting out a deep breath through your nostrils to calm your nerves and swallowing the lump in your throat, your jaw slacks as much as it can and you take him in your mouth, surrounding him with your warmth. Mando nearly convulses on the spot, feeling his hips buck, pushing more of himself into your mouth. Stars, you’ve never had a dick this big in your mouth and you’re worried you might not be able to take all of him, but you push through it, inching himself more and more passed your lips until you feel him reach the back of your throat. Your body shakes, fighting your gag reflex as he sits there on your tongue, hands bracing themselves on his hips, so you have more control.

“Look at you, taking my whole cock in your mouth. S-such a good girl.”

Mando’s praises practically make you swoon, and once you feel relaxed enough, you ease him out of your mouth and begin bobbing your head up and down the length of his girth, obscene and filthy sounds echoing through the street. You develop a rhythm, bobbing your neck down his cock a few times and then taking him as far as he’ll go, now no longer worried about gagging as you basically fucking choke on him. Tears are forming in the corners of your eyes, but you don’t stop, you can’t fucking stop because the whimpers coming from Mando are enough to push you over the edge. He grits out admirations like a prayer, the grip on your shoulder so tight it almost hurts, but you’re too entranced at the moment to give a shit about the bruise that’s no doubt forming on your skin.

His cock continues to slide in and out between your lips, feeling every curve, every vein, every fucking inch of him down to the pubic hair that tickles your nose when he rests fully inside your mouth. The tension in your pussy is excruciating, needing some kind of friction to alleviate some of the pressure, so one of the hands on his hips disappear and flies into your own pants, passed your undies, starting to rub tight circles around your clit. The immediate touch down your pants causes you to moan, sending vibrations along the Mandalorian’s length between your lips.

“Stars, you’re so good at this. How do you make it feel so fucking good?” He whispers breathlessly, now fully fucking himself into your mouth. Tears stream down your face at a consistent rate, but everything feels too good to stop. It’s overstimulating, it’s overwhelming but in the best fucking way possible. You on your knees, while Mando grinds his hips more aggressively into you. Feeling your own orgasm slowly building, you wrap your lips around Mando tighter, hallowing your cheeks as you draw him in at a quicker pace.

“Shit, you’re g-gonna ma-ake me c-c-ome,”

Rather than say something, you bob your head even faster, spit dribbling down your lips as you continue to take his cock deep in your mouth, swallowing a mixture of saliva and precome and groaning loudly. Mando recites a series of curses and praises as you feel his body tensing while he gets closer to his own orgasm. The fingers on your clit become erratic, no longer having the same rhythm because you’re too focused on getting Mando to come in your mouth to focus on pleasuring yourself properly.

“Oh—shit, fuck, fuck yes, j-just like t-that. You want me to c-c-come in your pr-r-retty little mouth?” He taunts, chest heaving unlike you’ve ever seen before. The power trip you’re on right now is amazing, and Maker you want him to see you as he comes. Through hooded lids, you peer up at him, the faint shape of his helmet beaming off the moons of Tatooine. You don’t see his eyes but it doesn’t matter, you know he’s looking down at you in awe. It’s a struggle to continue to please him while trying to maintain eye contact with him but you refuse to peel your eyes away from the visor. You want him to see you with your mouth full of his come, you want him to see you suck every bit of his seed out of him, and watch you swallow it like a champ.

Mando’s cock twitches in your mouth and stiffens for a moment, and then he’s coming, really fucking hard and for a second you wonder if you’ll even be able to swallow all of it. As he comes, you hollow your cheeks even more, sucking every last drop of his seed and swallowing it, and then your own orgasm creeps up on you and then smashes into you. It fucking rips you apart from the inside out, white-hot pleasure exploding from every nerve ending, and you cry out with his cock still in your mouth, causing some of his come to trickle down from the corners of your lips.

Once he’s finally done coming, his hand leaves your shoulder to tuck himself back in his pants before hooking both hands under your shoulders to lift you up to eye level. Your breathing is erratic, and your knees burn from the friction of the sand rubbing against the material of your pants. Head lulling back to lean along the wall behind you, your eyes flutter open, completely exhausted. Using one of his fingers, Mando wipes the come dripping down your lips and before he can do anything else, using the very limited strength you have, your hand clasps down on his wrist, taking it into your mouth and sucking whatever seed is on his finger, tasting him and leather in your mouth.

“Stars…” Mando remarks in absolute admiration. The corners of your lips curl into a sheepish smile, the weight of the fatigue fully taking you over. Your head dips in front of you, and rests on Mando’s chest, the instant cooling relief of beskar on your forehead.

“We have to get back to the ship.” He repeats, his baritone gentle but still low and raspy.

“Mmm…” You mumble back, unable to find the words.

“You’ll have to walk back, is that okay? The Crest isn’t far away.”

Head lifting up enough to nod, Mando takes a step back so you can get your bearings. The alcohol and the post-orgasm high make you woozy, but you force yourself to be somewhat conscious, blinking rapidly and rolling your shoulders back in an effort to show him you’ll be all right enough to head back to the hangar. “Lead the way, sir.”

A drawn-out breath emits from the helmet, and he tilts his head to the side like he wants to push you up against the wall once again but ultimately decides not to and turns on his heel to make way for the ship. Your feet are working slower than your brain, because it takes a couple of seconds for them to register that you want to walk. At first they buckle, probably because you’ve been on your knees for the last however many minutes, but eventually you’re able to trail behind him wearily as you both walk in silence to the hangar. Unlike you, there’s absolutely no hint that Mando just got his dick sucked in public. You on the other hand, are slouching when you walk, feeling the uncomfortable stickiness between your legs from your orgasm becoming more and more awful the longer you move.

When the hangar door comes into view, there’simmediate relief that swoons you. You want to rest, want to relax as there’s a slight headache now prodding at you—definitely a result from the night’s events. Peli sits around a makeshift fire, her droids also gathered around, no green baby in sight.

“Ah he found you!” She exclaims, gesticulating in your direction before rising to her feet to join you and Mando. “The little one’s inside the ship, by the way.”

“Thank you, Peli.”

“Anytime, Mando. You know I like having you and the kid around.” She admits, a genuine smile appearing on her face. She looks over at you and it’s impossible to hide the shock smeared on her expression.

“Kriff, what the hell happened to you?”

“Sorry?” You ask, brows pulling tightly together.

“You look like hell, that’s what.” She says, quite unfiltered.

Your eyes peer down at the ground, fingers interlacing together, not being able to come up with a good, fake reason as to why you look like a mess. Her gaze jumps between you and Mando, and you think she’s mentally putting the image together in her brain before Mando speaks.

“We should get going. Don’t want to stay longer than we need to.”

This snaps Peli out of her thoughts, nodding as she agrees with the Mandalorian.

“Sure thing. Uh, travel safe you three.”

Mando’s helmet dips forward, before heading up the side ramp of the ship. You stand there for a few more seconds, wanting to give Peli a proper good-bye, but not knowing how to go about that. Your arm comes up behind you to rub the back of your neck, jaw slacking and opening your mouth to say something—to say what, you’re still unsure of.

“Well, I have to admit, it was nice seeing you again kid.” She says sincerely, and for the seconds time today, you see a glimpse of warmth and tenderness in her you’ve never seen before. She isn’t this cold-hearted, confrontational woman you had conjured up in your mind. She’s gentle in her own way. Kind. Sympathetic. It warms you and also saddens you. This is a side of her you could have seen all these years ago, had you allowed yourself and her the opportunity. Instead, you had this pre-conceived idea of who she was, and didn’t allow either of you to have a different perspective of each other. It’s only now that you may never see each other again that you realize how alike you two are.

“Yeah, it was nice seeing you too, Peli.”

“Take care of each other,” She leans over and places a gentle hand on your forearm. Looking down to where her hand touches you, you feel a surge of emotions. Not just your own, but hers as well. Regret. Pain. Resolve. Hope. All of these subconscious emotions filling you up, making your head spin.

Turning your body, you head up the ramp to the ship’s hull. Peeping over to the fresher, you really should sanisteam, but the fatigue is too intense. You really just want to sleep in that shitty chair in the cockpit and deal with all your responsibilities when you wake up.

Taking to the ladder is a bit of struggle. You have no strength left, and but are forced to conjure some up just to make it to the top. When you see the floor at the top, you grab onto it and hoist yourself to the top, landing on your knees. For a moment, you actually consider just crawling over to the chair, but that seems a little…excessive, therefore you force yourself to your feet and drag them along the ground as you finally reach the chair. Collapsing into it immediately, this chair has never felt more comfortable in your life and the moan you let out once you feel yourself relaxing in it is downright obscene, but you don’t care. Instantly regretting every time you’ve complained about this chair, because right now it’s your saving grace. You’ll never leave this clump of leather; you swear it to the Maker.

“Where’re we headed, now?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you ask Mando who sits in the pilot’s chair, flicking switches and hearing the Crest’s thrusters come to life.

“Corvus.”

“Mmm? What’s on Corvus?”

“A Jedi.”

A Jedi? You’ve never had the opportunity of meeting a Jedi, but you’ve heard stories—good and bad ones. How they’re to blame for starting the Clone Wars. How they destroyed the Empire and freed the galaxy from tyranny.

You want to ask why you’re heading to meet a Jedi, but you succumb to sleep before you can ask him, the taste of the Mandalorian still lingering on your tongue.

taglist: @1800-fight-me​, @tillytheslytherin​, @ayamenimthiriel​ 💞💞

[sonderwalker]

Okay hear me out, disaster family trio goes shopping and baby ahsoka keeps sneaking in plushies and snacks into their cart so by the time they get to the register, Anakin is like “where did all this come from???” And Ahsoka is just \(•v•)/ in the corner

Also consider: Anakin having to run an errand to a mechanic shop to get some parts/equipment for a project he’s working on and while he’s having a serious conversation with one of the workers, baby Ahsoka befriends literally every mechanic there and asks them a million questions about the stuff they’re working on and by the time Anakin is ready to go, the shop has adopted her

omg yes!!! this is so cute aaaaaaaaaaa!!! I decided for this to be like a whole adventure with ahsoka and anakin having a day out together! click below the cut to read more about adorable baby ahsoka and her adventures with anakin who cannot catch a break. also as a side note- I’m gonna put the second part of this in a separate reblog so keep an eye out for that!

“Okay, Snips, can you read for me what the next thing on this list says?” Anakin asked as he handed her a small datapad.

They were in a market on the upper levels of Coruscant, Anakin equipped with a list of groceries that Obi-Wan had gave him earlier that morning, and a backpack slung over his shoulders. At his side, holding one of his hands was a four-year-old torgruta girl, whose grip on his hand tightened every time there was a noise that was just a little too loud for her comfort.

Ahsoka stood up on her toes, reaching up to grab it with both hands, taking it from Anakin’s grip.

“What does it say?” Anakin asked her again as they stopped walking, Ahsoka reading over the contents of the datapad with an intense look on her face.

“But I don’t like muja fruit, Master,” she said with a pout as she looked up at him.

“It’s not for you, it’s for Obi-Wan,” Anakin pointed out.

“Is muja fruit the next thing on the list?”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka mumbled and handed the datapad back to him.

“And what does it say after muja fruit?” Anakin asked her as he crossed his arms over his chest with a smile.

Ahsoka huffed and brought the datapad back down so that she could read it.

“Bantha meat,” she said, her expression lightening up as she realized that the meat was probably meant for her. 

“Can we get extra bantha meat?” Ahsoka asked as she handed the datapad back to Anakin who smiled.

“I’ll think about it,” he said as he took the tablet and they began to walk again.

Ahsoka did her best to not poke and touch as many of the items as she could get her hands on while she was in the market, trying to remember all of Obi-Wan’s lessons on patience.

She gripped Anakin’s hand even tighter, doing her best to avoid the bag of snacks that she wanted to grab.

And then, she had an idea.

“Master, can I hold the backpack?” Ahsoka asked.

“Sure, here,” Anakin replied as he took it off of his shoulders, clearly distracted with reading about the prices of the meat that he was trying to buy.

The bag was big, but it wasn’t heavy, and Ahsoka mirrored the way that Anakin wore it, although the bag seemed to come all the way down to her knees as a result.

She looked up at Anakin again, who seemed to be reading the prices with an even more intense look than before.

And then she walked away, back to the previous stand they were at which had the frog plushies that she wanted.

And she grabbed as many as she could, shoving them into the bag and then walking away, a smile on her face as she thought about all of the names she was going to give her new friends.

“Ahsoka?” Anakin called out, looking around for her.

“Here!” Ahsoka said, returning with the backpack, a grin on her face.

“Oh, there you are. Look, don’t run off anywhere without telling me, alright?” Anakin replied as he sighed in relief.

“Can I have the bag back now, please?” He asked her but she shook her head.

“I wanna carry it!”

“Alright, you can carry it then,” Anakin said with a slight chuckle.

“It looks like those were the last two things on the list, so lets go pay for what we got, alright?”

“Okay!” Ahsoka said, excited to have all of her frog friends in her bedroom.

But when they reached the payment counter, and Anakin took the bag from her, he let out a long sigh- one that sounded almost exactly like Obi-Wan’s.

“Ahsoka?” Anakin asked.

“Yeah?”

“How did all of these stuffed animals get in here?” He asked as he looked down at her.

“I dunno...” Ahsoka replied and shrugged, looking away from him and at the very interesting floor.

“Ahsoka.”

“But, master,” she began and pouted as he removed them all from the bag and set them aside, separate from everything else they were getting.

“If you wanted a frog, you should have asked. But since you didn’t ask, you won’t get any,” Anakin told her as he removed the groceries next and placed them on the counter.

“And now, you have to go and return them.” He said as he packed the toys back into the backpack.

“That’s not fair!” Ahsoka yelled as she stomped her foot, her tiny hands balled up into fists.

“Ahsoka, you can’t take things without asking. That isn’t fair.” Anakin replied, doing his best to keep his cool, but they were starting to draw a bit of attention, and it was the last thing that he wanted.

“Go return these toys,” he said as he handed her the backpack, his tone firm.

But she didn’t take the bag, and instead stood there with her hands balled up and a pout on her face. Anakin could see that she was doing her best not to cry. And while he hated seeing her cry, he knew that they couldn’t take all of these home.

“Ahsoka.”

“Fine.”

She yanked the bag from his arm and stomped away with it on her shoulders, hastily returning the toys before stomping back to where Anakin was waiting for her.

“Now, was that so hard?” Anakin asked as he took the bag back from her and placed their groceries inside of it.

“Yes!” Ahsoka exclaimed.

“Maybe you can ask Obi-Wan to buy you one of those toys then,” Anakin said as he began to walk away, and after a moment Ahsoka was beside him again, holding his hand.

[vodika-vibes]

Omggg I was melting from flirtatious Seventeen, I love him being a shameless flirt 😫 Could you please do one where reader is very self conscious and just doesn’t see what 17 sees so she thinks he’s just messing with her when he says suggestive things? Maybe reader has an obvious crush on him so she assumes that because 17 knows he just flirts with her to embarrass her or try to get with her. Sorry if this is really long and specific😅, we all love everything you do btw! Thanks!

For Them

Summary: Alpha-17 has been driving you insane for ages now, and that mixed with the stress of your current responsibility is just too much.

Pairing: Alpha-17 x Reader

Word Count: 1358

Warnings: Kaminoans are assholes who experiment on babies

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So...I kind of went a little off the rails on this one. I had a plan, and then I started writing, and I got distracted by clone babies. Sorry.

Sometimes you hate the fact that you’re so easy to read. If you were just a little better at hiding your emotions, you wouldn’t be in this situation. Well, you hope you wouldn’t be in this situation.

After all, if your crush on Alpha wasn’t so obvious, he wouldn’t have any reason to tease you so much, right?

Because there’s absolutely no way that he means what he says when he flirts with you, or makes those suggestive comments to you.

Best case scenario he’s just trying to get into your bed for a bit of quick fun. Worst case scenario, he’s trying to humiliate you. And if you didn’t need this job so badly, you would have transferred out to somewhere else.

Tragically, this job is the best one for you at the moment, and you can’t just leave the cadets-

You purse your lips as you focus your attention back on your datapad and the information on the screen. You need to focus, you can’t afford to be distracted by Alpha right now. The Kaminoans decided to play with the genetic makeup of some of the tubies, and it’s a whole thing.

Three of them are albino, which comes with its own host of health issues that need to be mitigated. Two were born totally blind, and another three are going to be blind unless you figure out a way to keep their immune system from attacking their eyes (honestly cybernetics for all five of them will probably be the easiest option, after all no one’s figured out how to keep human’s immune systems from attacking their eyes), and one was born without the ability to use his legs.

Honestly, the urge to take all 9 of them and flee Kamino is getting stronger with every passing day, but as of right now, there’s no way for you to get them off Kamino without drawing the ire of several very dangerous men, Alpha at the top of the list.

You push your fingers through your hair as you scan the medical data coming from CT-238-765’s (his name is Grim and you’re pretty sure you love him) cradle and you scowl. He’s never going to be able to walk. Maybe with surgery-

“If you keep scrunching your face up like that, you’re going to get wrinkles,” A deep voice says from the door, and you yelp and your datapad tumbles out of your hands.

You whip around, your eyes wide, and then you press your hand over your heart, “Don’t do that!”

Alpha-17 grins at you, “Did I spook you, mesh’la?”

You scowl at him and duck down to scoop the tablet back into your hands, turning the screen away from the larger man so he can’t see just how bad these tubies are, “Did you need something?”

He drags his gaze down your body, and you fold the datapad over your chest as you fight the urge to shift uncomfortably. His grin broadens, “Yeah, I can think of a thing or two that only you can help me with.”

Your face burns, “There are babies in the room,” You hiss at him.

“They’re too young to understand what I’m saying, sweetheart,” Alpha replies as he enters the room properly, and peers into one of the cradles, “Honestly, I could probably bend you over in here and none of them would even know it.”

You sputter, “You…you don’t know-that’s totally inappropriate-”

He laughs, and moves to peer into Grim’s cradle, and you immediately move to put yourself between Alpha and the infant, without thinking about it. “You’re not allowed to handle him. Technically, you’re not allowed to handle any of the babies. Remember?”

Alpha rolls his eyes and lightly nudges you to the side, “The rule was only enforced when the Prime was alive, which he’s not.” You move to the side as he nudges you, curse you for being so weak in his presence.

“Only because everyone else is afraid of you,”

“You’re not.” He grins at you, “You want to fuck me.”

Your face burns, and you glare up at him, “There. Are. Children. Present.” You hiss at him.

“Yeah, yeah. So you’ve said.” He regards Grim silently for a moment, “Also, that wasn’t a denial, gorgeous. Why isn’t he moving his legs?”

“He’s fine. And I’m not going to sleep with you just so you win whatever twisted game you're playing with me,” You snap, though you keep your voice quiet, “And don’t touch-” You sigh when Alpha reaches into the cradle and pokes the infant’s foot, and he doesn’t react.

“The fact that you think I’m  playing a game with you is hurtful, gorgeous.” Alpha replies, a frown crossing his scarred face as he looks down at the infant, “He can’t feel his legs.”

“He’s fine.” You say, your voice pitching a little higher in sudden panic, “They’re all fine. You can’t tell the longnecks. You can’t. They’ll decommission them.”

“Wait, wait. Hold on,” Alpha looks at you, suddenly no longer interested in teasing you based on the look on his face, “What…there’s something wrong with all of these tubies?”

“Winter, Snow, and Cin-” You motion to the three at the end, “Are all albino. The five in the middle are either blind, or are going blind, and then Grim here-”

Alpha holds up his hand, “What happened?”

“The Kaminoans were playing with their genes.” You say bitterly, “And now these kids are the ones who will suffer for it.” You carefully remove the monitors from Grim’s legs, and attach them to a different baby's legs, altering the data just enough.

Alpha stops you, “How long has this been happening?”

You shrug, “You know that CF-99 exists,” You point out, “They’re not the most popular because they’re assholes, but-”

“We’re all genetically predisposed to be assholes,” Alpha says dryly. His gaze lingers on the babies for a moment, “So, what’s the plan?”

“What?”

“For the tubies.”

You stare at him, “Um…so for the five that are blind, or going blind, I’m planning on making arrangements for them to get cybernetic eyes. As for Grim…I’m working on it-”

Alpha hums thoughtfully, “I have a better idea.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. How do you feel about taking the Tubies and leaving?”

You sputter, “I can’t raise 9 babies on my own without a job-”

“You won’t be raising them alone,” Alpha replies with a roll of his eyes, “I’ll be going with you.”

“...what.”

He looms over you, and you’re very glad that you’ve never been intimidated by Alpha, for all that he flusters you to high heaven. “You think I’m playing with you. That I don’t mean every word that I say to you. Maybe you have cause for that, I’m not going to judge. But I do mean every word, and if I have to run away with you and these kids to make you believe me, then so be it.”

“But…what about your other brothers?”

“They’ll be just fine without me.”

“But-”

“Yes or no, cyar’ika?” Alpha interrupts, “Do you want to ensure that these kids, kids that you named, have a proper life? Or do you want to run the risk of your manipulations getting exposed? And that’s not me threatening you. That’s me pointing out that you’re not going to be able to hide your lies forever.”

Your hands shake, “Of course I want them to grow up happy and healthy, but this is…”

Alpha stares at you and you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, thinking hard.

“Okay. Okay, but we have to be quick about it. If we get caught-”

“Don’t worry, cyar’ika. I can make sure that we don’t get caught.” He ducks down and brushes his lips against your temple, “Just be ready. We’re leaving tonight.”

And then Alpha is gone, leaving you alone with the 9 babies that you’re about to risk everything for. You sigh and turn to Grim, who looks up at you through big brown eyes, “You’re lucky I love you, kiddo.”

He flashes a toothless grin and grabs your finger, and you melt a little bit. You suppose it’s worth it.

[nimsajlove]

As a Team (III)

Brothers-AU  Ao3

Part I/II, Part IV

"I like it when the reg's are angry.", Wrecker grinned and left his place as copilot. Ahsoka raised an eyebrow and ground her teeth, the sound earning a slight twitch from Hunter from the corner of her eye. So realized what Jesse had meant hours ago. The attitude that those few words already conveyed pissed her off. "Reg? Good to know.”, she muttered and went back to her pockets. Sighing, she went down on her knees and opened the backpack, it was crammed to the brim with everything she could get from a medic. Burnes must have taken his job seriously, very well. She pushed her way down past the bandages and plasters. Warming blankets, which she had already got to know years ago, were stuck next to some hypnos. She took one out and scanned the label. Some pain relievers and medication in case of shock. Not that she could take any of this! As soon as she had thought through the thought to the end, she spotted a bundle of a few tablets and colored Hypnos tied together at the bottom. Damn it, she owed her medics something now! “Don't take it personally. We don't work with regular clones on a daily basis.", Hunter said next to her and watched as the Jedi put the medical equipment back properly. Then she turned to the other, smaller, bag. “It doesn't matter. I'm afraid of my brothers when they're angry, maybe you should be too?”, she tried to chat lightly, that everyone in the ship was watching her and also had the nerve to want to judge her brothers, pressed her on the mood. There was a big knot in her stomach and she didn't like the way it contracted every now and then.

In the second pocket she found a clean robe, a few rations, and water bottles. She could kiss the boys! If it continued like this, she would soon not have to think about anything at all. But when she pulled the robe out to throw it on, something fell from the folded fabric to the floor. Before she fully understood what it was, Wrecker had already reached for it curiously and Crosshair let out a breath that was reminiscent of a low whistle. Both looked at Ahsoka's old headdress and Wrecker turned it a little. "Wrecker...", Hunter warned and Asoka smiled, he sounded a bit like Rex when she had done something stupid again. Wrecker responded and handed the jewelry back to her, teeth clattering softly against each other. "Scared huh?", smiled Hunter and with a little roll of her eyes Ahsoka stuffed his teeth back into her pocket with the other things. The thought was very sweet and the trophy might earn her respect from Force 99, but she really liked her current clone jewelry. Whenever she saw her reflection in a helmet or mirror, it reminded her where she belonged. With her robe in hand she picked herself up again and threw on the thick, brown fabric. Immediately it enveloped her like a warm hug. "Now she looks like a Jedi!", commented Wrecker, drawing another smile and roll of her eyes from her. When it wasn't about other clones, these men had the potential to be fun people. "Thank you.", she replied, irony loud and clear in her voice. "Sorry, he just doesn't have a mental filter.", Tech announced from the front and this time she had to grin, the flight would be interesting.

Sighing, she made herself comfortable on the floor next to her bag and stretched out her legs. This would be the perfect flight to meditate a little. However, she had only enjoyed it to a limited extent before and did not believe that it would get rid of the uncomfortable tingling sensation under her skin now. Nevertheless, there was silence for a while and Ahsoka closed her eyes for a few seconds. Then she noticed that this wasn't like any of the other flights at all. Nobody sat there and complained, nobody had bent over a datapad to write reports. Kriff, her reports from the past few days! She should have taken her datapad... Even if only to plan the next few hours! Maybe... With a little grunt she got up again, the irritated looks from Wrecker and Crosshair followed her on the way forward. Tech had put the ship on autopilot and seemed to be tinkering with something, she wasn't even going to try to understand what it was! Anakin had taught her a lot, but not that much either. Everything beyond doors, normal droids and small spaceships was out of her league. At least most of the time. "Tech, right?", she asked softly and leaned against the pilot's seat from behind, the clone nodded tightly and precisely. "Do you have a datapad for me?" Sighing, Tech laid his tangle of cables away and bent to one side, datapad in hand he reappeared. When he handed it to her, he eyed her curiously. "What are you going to do with it?", he asked a little suspiciously and Ahsoka had to smile. “I just want to play through my plans a little. Or is there something on it that I am not supposed to find?”, she teased and Wrecker gave a violent snort behind her. Tech continued to stare at her, then shrugged and turned back to his work. Well, then that was settled. With her slender fingers, she switched on the pad and decided, with the luck of her own, to search Tech's collection of data for her target. She found little, but it was better than nothing!

"You just didn't seem like someone who's planning long beforehand.", Hunter remarked as the Jedi sat back down on the floor. She shrugged her shoulders. “My brother had priority, I would go in there blind if I had to. And I think that getting in won't be the big problem...", she mumbled and looked at the few dates and plans in front of her. "But out will be?", Crosshair growled and Ahsoka looked up, he looked at her with a chilled look and when she got goose bumps on the back of her neck under her lekku, she gave him a challenging grin. "Scared?", she grinned broadly and showed her sharp fangs, Crosshair rolled his eyes and turned back to his weapon. Wrecker was still giggling to himself and even Hunter smiled next to her. “But so much effort for a reg? One soldier out of thousands, I just would like to point out.", Tech suddenly called from the front, he turned around a little in the chair and could watch how Ahsoka screwed up her eyes and suppressed a rumble deep in her chest.

Hell, she had a really bad grip on her emotions today! She swallowed the growl and took a deep breath, her heart beating hollow and loud in her chest. "Would you just leave one of those here?", she asked and pointed with a palm around, Tech shrugged his shoulders a little incomprehensibly and Wrecker cocked his head helplessly. However, Hunter's expression when she looked at him had tightened. He stood beside her, tense, leaning against the wall. “I don't know if I can follow completely. You are a Jedi, you have the whole Order behind you, right?", he said softly and Ahsoka almost escaped an amused snort. “My brothers never left my side, without them I wouldn't even have survived the first year. If I have a tiny chance of doing the same for Echo then I'll do it.”, she explained, and as she stared at Hunter, an unexpected lump formed in her throat. "I have to take care of them, all of them.", she pressed out and averted her gaze ashamed, tears tingling in her eyes. Damn it, she hadn't talked about Echo and his 'death' in a long time and she hadn't suspected how much it was still hurting her. The very idea that she might just have left for nothing came with such a headache that she stifled the idea in the bud. "I understand. You will get him back.”, Hunter suddenly mumbled and patted her shoulder hard and sure.

 The rest of the flight was quiet, Ahsoka didn't ask why Hunter didn't wrote any reports. She kept her thoughts to herself. Even then, when she almost had to wrestle with Wrecker over one of her rations. But the loud laugh of the massive clone made her grin too. Crosshair still didn't seem to like her much when they started to approach the planet. He stubbornly avoided her gaze. Hunter, on the other hand, seemed to be getting used to her presence, and since the conversation he had made suggestions about her plans from time to time and discussed possible enemies with her. Thanks to him, she now felt as prepared as she could be. Still, she was nervous and restless when she looked out the window and watched the storm outside. "Tech, can you get the signal from here-" A rum interrupted her and they held their breaths for two seconds, then a large head appeared in their field of vision. "What is that?", Wrecker grumbled. “A conspecific simple lizard. The locals worship these creatures because-” “Enough.”, Hunter interrupted Tech, drawing his gun. "Just get it off my ship." "Wait, maybe we should think first and then...", sighing, Ahsoka let the sentence end and ran after the clones into the open, it was no use anyway. Outside the sand pricked her eyes and her bared arms, damn it, she had left the robe inside! At least she was already wearing her backpack. She hastily drew out her lightsabers and got a quick overview. On the ship sat the, truly not pretty, lizard and growled at her with bared teeth. The clones had already opened fire when the back of her head began to tingle violently. Like Rex gave her a brotherly pat. She trusted that feeling. "Get down!", she barked and actually the others followed, just above them another flying reptile shot away and missed the Jedi by a hair's breadth. Ahsoka was immediately on her feet again, her gaze followed the attacker and his rider. If they didn't have to fight these locals, they'd be not stuck here! Maybe... "Wrecker, stand still!", she instructed harshly, the big clone looked at her with noticeable irritation. Right then her window opened. The attacker came down again, the claws already open. With one jump Ahsoka stood on Wrecker's shoulders, with another she landed on the flying reptile and snatched the reins from the rider.

 It was impressive how well the animal knew the way home. No sooner had Ahsoka relaxed the reins than it changed direction. Behind her she heard the ship start again and follow them, with a triumphant grin she glanced over her shoulder at the clones.

The flight did not last long, with short and powerful wingbeats the mount landed and Ahsoka swung down. With cries of surprise, the locals backed away from her and cocked their heads. With a grin, Ahsoka patted the reptile next to her briefly and then looked around, the clones were just about to land at the top of the basin in which the village was located. Sliding, they came down to her. "You could have warned us!" Hunter complained a few meters before he reached her and Ahsoka grinned at him. Then she turned to Tech, she wanted to get this done quickly. It wasn't sure if the Techno Union knew of their discovery and if they did, would they kill Echo? Dispose him? "You can translate, can't you?", she asked and Tech jerked his head. “What do you think I am? A protocol droid?", he muttered, but still seemed to get the right program on his glasses. “I want you to tell them about my brother. I will tell you everything you need to know and translate."

Ha, the line of pity had probably pulled! "They provide us with two scouts, they will show us the way to the city and then return home." Ahsoka nodded in agreement, that was a good deal. “Okay, that will do. The main thing is that we get to this damn city faster."

 The walk was shorter than expected. After about an hour of brisk walk, they stood on a small ledge and looked at the town in the distance. “Why do you build so high up here? There's nothing to see anyway.", Ahsoka mumbled and shook her head, somehow they would get in there. "I won’t wait for you this time, if you complain again.", Tech grumbled from behind her and astonished Ahsoka looked around at the others. "Wrecker is afraid of heights?", she asked and Wrecker shrugged his shoulders protectively. "No! I only have a problem with... gravity.", he grumbled and the hunched shoulders, the snapped apology, the hunched head. All of this reminded Ahsoka so much of all the younglings in the temple and the clones when they first realized that they were afraid. She couldn't help it, in her head Wrecker snapped like another piece of the puzzle into the picture of her family and a gentle smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "It's okay, I'll try to find an non-seethrough elevator.", she assured him jokingly and then got up. "We should go while the sandstorm can still cover us.", she urged the others to hurry and trotted ahead.

As soon as they had left the slipstream, Ahsoka had to pull the collar of her tunic up over her mouth and nose. The fine grains burned in her eyes, even when squeezed tightly together, it was hard to see anything. Sighing, she closed them. Back to her traditional training then. With a few deep breaths, she forced herself to calm down and let her mind explore the area in waves. Suddenly she realized how much life was hidden in this barren landscape. The little lights of the Techno Union were easy to see, they glowed cold and empty in front of her. But there was something else, it was practically magical. Even if it could hardly be described as alive, she knew that there was her goal. Half blind, she grabbed the wrist of the next clone behind her and dragged him behind her, the wrist too narrow to be Wreckers. Only when they were back in the shadow of the city and the wind eased a little did Ahsoka look up, open her eyes and look around. All the clones were hot on her heels, she had caught Tech and released his wrist from her grip. Then she looked around, there had to be an elevator somewhere! "Over there.", Tech nodded and was already trotting towards one of the pillars of the city, in fact it was adorned with a thickly armored door and a control panel. The group hurried after Tech with crouched heads and, grumbling, Ahsoka sought shelter from the wind behind the thick pillar. If the Techno Union thought they could keep a Jedi away with these weather conditions, then they had clearly underestimated the determination of such a person! She rubbed her bare arms with her rough fingers, the skin felt sore. As if they had been sandblasted. Terrible clothes for this planet, definitely. In addition, it was only half as warm as she had expected, the constant wind made her shiver. Had they flown in Echo and spared him that sand? What agony he had to suffer while she was moaning about such little things... "Are you done?", Hunter growled and Tech snorted, then the door slid open. "Take a look inside.", instructed Hunter Crosshair and the sniper disappeared into the dimly lit room with his weapon raised. A few seconds later his head reappeared. "Yes, thats a lift.", he commented dryly and Ahsoka grinned broadly, it actually earned her an amused shrug from the clone. Hey, he didn't hate her! Maybe this friendship wasn't lost yet? Still grinning, she pushed herself into the elevator, Wrecker hesitated. "Everything is fine Wrecker, I'll hold your hand too.", Hunter teased next to her and the massive clone snorted before squeezing into the narrow space and the doors closing.

As soon as the elevator began to move with a jerk, the grin disappeared from her face. Now the highest concentration was required, Echo's life perhaps depended on it! "Quick in and out, okay? We won't be able to hide our presence, but if we eliminate their droids quickly, they will take a while to regroup. ”Ahsoka explained to the small unit hastily and Wrecker thrust her on the shoulder enthusiastically. "I can do that!" Crosshair shook his head with a sigh, but still checked his weapon one last time. Then the doors suddenly opened and in a flash Ahsoka built herself up as a shield between the clones and droids. Wrecker didn't care, he ran past her with a loud roar and Ahsoka would lie if she said his strength hadn't impressed her a little. Hunter glided past her a little more elegantly and turned to the next opponent with less force but more precision. Tech and Crosshair rose behind her and fired over her shoulders. The shots so close to her ear hadn't frightened her for a long time now! The hangar they had arrived in was quickly emptied and when Ahsoka straightened up, Tech pulled out his datapad and switched it on. Crosshair, meanwhile, leaned forward a little and when he spoke, Ahsoka could hear his smile too. “You know, Jedi. I could get used to that.” “How nice that you like the sword and shield maneuver so much.”, she smiled back a little tense.

 At first Tech tried to catch the signal from Echo again. With every passing second, Ahsoka's impatience grew. "They seem to be interfering with my signal, seem to be well prepared.", the clone cursed and Ahsoka sighed deeply, it would take them forever to find Echo. "Leave it be Tech, I'll take care of it.", she hastily interrupted another wave of curses and Tech sighed deeply and painfully, as if Ahsoka had just stolen what he loved. Anyway, there was no time for such thoughts! Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tried to open up to her surroundings. She had learned from Anakin to pursue goals with the force, so she should be able to find an echo from Echo in the force. Slowly she felt her way forward, away from the hangar in which they were standing and deeper into the city. She did not dare to linger with the members of the Techno Union. They weren't Force Sensitive, but who knows... Maybe they'd notice something after all? Only a tiny light, a weak spark, made her pause. It wasn't a uniform glow like the others, more like the flickering of a small candle flame. "That way!"

[weathergirl8]

No Secrets

HI! Just me returning from MIA land and the land of adulthood.

I normally only post my work on FF.net and AO3 (you'll know me as shadowfox8 on there) but decided to post this fluff piece here for a change as well. I hope you enjoy!

Summary:  Alan decides to keep an injury a secret, shrugging it off as minor. Little does he know, his older brother knows him better than he thinks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alan shut the door to his bedroom behind him and gingerly made his way to his ensuite, intent on jumping into the hot shower. His tired body ached, and his ribs and shoulder weren't doing him any favors.

Quickly discarding his uniform, the twenty-one year old allowed the warm water to hit his body. The rescue itself hadn't been a hard one, just mentally taxing as his patience had been tested one too many times. Especially when the civilians thought they knew better than their would-be rescuers. That point had nearly cost him his life and the life of two distillery works.

Rubbing his right side cautiously, Alan grimaced at the memory. International Rescue had been called to assist with a massive explosion at a distillery factory. A fire that had been a casualty of an earthquake that had rocked the area. While his brothers were busy clearing the main structure, Alan had been tasked with emptying the adjacent buildings where the fire had just begun to spread. Unfortunately for the youngest Tracy, two of the workers deemed him too young to call the shots. Amid their argument, an explosion from the main building exploded into their area. Alan did his best to land gracefully, but as he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, he knew his body had absorbed quite a bit of that hit.

Drying himself off, Alan pulled on a new pair of shorts and walked into his bedroom. Reaching for a shirt from the bottom drawer of his dresser, he paused and tried to stifle his cry of pain as the action instantly aggravated his right side. Alan gripped his side and took in a steadying breath. So, maybe this wasn't just nothing. Turning toward his mirror, Alan took in the damage. Multiple darkening bruises riddled his right arm and torso. A sizeable purple bump spotted his upper right arm, but a wave of dark purplish-blue seemed to be growing along his right ribcage and chest. Sighing, Alan turned to attempt another grab at a shirt but jumped as he was met with the concerned form of his older brother.

"Jesu-Virgil!" Alan exclaimed in surprise, gripping his side in pain at the jolt. He quickly tried to stand straighter and dropped his hand. "How long have you been standing there?"

Virgil raised an amused eyebrow, but instantly took ahold of his baby brother's frame. "Long enough," the brunette frowned, eyeing the bruises on Alan's body. "Were you planning on telling me?"

Alan groaned, allowing a sheepish grin to appear on his face. "Maybe…"

"Sit," Virgil demanded as he guided Alan onto his bed. Taking his brother's right arm in his hands, he moved the limb as he checked for any issues. Virgil's frown only deepened as he noticed what appeared to be a welt forming. "Does this hurt?”

"Not really," Alan replied. "It feels sore more than anything. Just bruises, Virg."

The medic nodded, kneeling so he could inspect the rapidly darkening large bruises around Alan's ribcage. "Jeez, kid. What the heck happened to you in there?"

"Secondary explosion caught us off guard as I was trying to evacuate two uncooperative workers. Slammed into a metal canister and two wood pallets," Alan explained honestly, knowing there was no use lying. Once Virgil was in doctor-mode, there was no way out.

"You should've said something, Alan," Virgil admonished, as he gently ran his thumb over Alan's swollen ribcage. "Does this hurt?"

Alan winced, giving his answer away immediately. "Sorry, I hadn't intended to keep it from you. I honestly didn't think anything of it. Just thought I was sore from the shock of the fall."

"I want to get an x-ray of your chest to be sure you didn't crack a rib or injured anything else in the fall," Virgil instructed. "You know any fall or cut is a must-tell in my book, Allie. No secrets, remember?"

Alan ducked his head once more. "I know…"

"It's okay," Virgil said, ruffling Alan's blonde hair. Picking up the shirt his brother had attempted to grab moments before, he threw it at him. "C'mon, let's get you checked out."

"Okay," Alan begrudgingly agreed and gingerly pulled himself up from the bed, carrying the shirt. He knew he couldn't put it on just yet, but he hoped to cover his side up if they crossed any of his other siblings in the hallway. The last thing he needed was the entire house smothering him over bruises. Thankfully, the walk to the infirmary wasn't far from his bedroom.

"Alright, Sprout," Virgil said. "Let's get this over with," the brunette smiled, standing next to the body scanner.

"You don't have to be so happy about it," Alan grumbled, grunting as the movement aggravated his side.

"Should've told me sooner, and maybe you wouldn't be in so much pain," Virgil smirked, taping the machine to life in satisfaction, choosing to ignore the mild curse that escaped his baby brother's mouth.

"As I said, I didn't know it was this bad. Adrenaline must've hidden most of it. I seriously thought I was just sore!" Alan argued, glaring at his older brother.

The machine beeped before Virgil could respond to his moody baby brother. "Scan is finished. Let's get you over to one of the beds where you'll be more comfortable."

Alan pushed himself up from the table and grimaced as he had moved too fast. "Easy, Alan," Virgil urged and came to stand on the other side of him to help him. Alan waved him off and hopped down from the table but nearly dropped as another wave of pain wrapped around his torso, Virgil caught his baby brother before he could fall.

"Damn it, Alan. You're going to hurt yourself while trying to preserve your pride. Just let me help you," Virgil reprimanded, gripping his baby brother around his uninjured side. Guiding his stubborn sibling onto a nearby infirmary bed, he helped Alan position himself upon it, elevating the head so he would be more comfortable. "Just take slow breathes, kiddo," he said, rubbing his baby brother's arm tenderly as Alan had trouble taking in deep breaths. Before the medic could contemplate placing him on an oxygen mask for good measure, Alan's breathing began to level out.

Virgil walked over and grabbed an ice pack. "Here, this will help until I take a look at your scans and can give you something."

Alan gladly took the appreciated object and placed it along his abused torso. Closing his eyes as the change in temperature took him off guard for a second. Feeling a hand run through his hair, he opened his eyes to meet the worried gaze of his brother.

"You okay?" Virgil asked, watching his sibling intently.

"Yea, just peachy," Alan groaned.

Virgil looked down at Alan with sympathy. "You could be right. Adrenaline could've masked most of your pain. We were pretty busy on site of the rescue after the explosions, and you slept most of the flight home."

"Yea, maybe," Alan sighed, wincing once more.

"I'll take a look at those scans, be right back."

Alan nodded. "Gotta make sure I'm not dying, right?"

"Not funny, Alan," Virgil moaned.

Alan rubbed his side as he removed the cold pack and relaxed more of his body into the infirmary bed. "Sorry for biting your head off," the blonde apologized as the chestnut-haired Tracy walked back toward him with his datapad.

"Don't sweat it, Sprout. I'll stop giving you such a hard time. I just worry about you is all," Virgil said, resting his hand upon Alan's, squeezing it. "Just do me a favor and report any injury that happens on a rescue. No matter how small. I don't care if you have to ask me for a bandaid for a little scrape. I'd rather give you an ice pack for a bump than have to perform an emergency procedure because you developed a pneumothorax from an injury you decided wasn't a big deal."

"It's not that serious, though, right?" Alan asked, eyes wide at the mention of the pneumothorax. His brother had taught him enough about medicine that he knew that was never a good thing.

Virgil pulled up a stool, sitting beside Alan's bed as he flipped through the images on his datapad. "It could've been, Allie. Thankfully there's no internal bleeding, but you've bruised your right ribcage and cracked two of them on the bottom. When you almost fell a few minutes ago, you could've dislodged them. I don't want to scare you, but that's why this stuff is so important, kiddo. I don't just say it because I like to hear myself talk."

"At least not all the time," Alan smirked.

"Brat," Virgil said, shoving his baby brother's leg.

"So, when do I get to be on the good stuff, and can I put my shirt on finally?" Alan asked, managing a slight pout that reminded Virgil him of when he was five.

"Yes, you can and give me a minute," Virgil said, standing up and grabbing what he needed from the drug cabinet.

Alan placed one arm through his shirt and slowly pulled his shirt over his head before pushing the other arm through. Previous injuries from years past serving him well in how to handle rib injuries.

"Alright, take these," Virgil said, handing two tablets and a bottle of water to his baby brother. Alan gladly took the pills. "How's the arm feel?"

"Fine, honestly doesn't bug me all that much in comparison to everything else," Alan admitted, glancing down at his right arm. "Can I go back to my room now?"

"Depends, and you better be honest with me," Virgil said, giving his brother a knowing look. "Have any more trouble breathing?"

"No, as long as I don't breathe in too deeply and move too fast. I'm good."

"Alright," Virgil gave in. "You can go back to your room or lounge around the house, but no trips to the beach, especially on your own. Those pain meds should make you pretty sleepy, so your bed is the best place for you right now. I'll give you a couple of ice packs to take with you to help keep the swelling down."

"Can I bring a few pillows from here?" Alan inquired as he looked around the room. "I don't think I have enough in my room to help keep me propped up. Laying down isn't exactly comfortable right now."

"I'm afraid that'll be an issue for a while, kid. I'm sure I can find some somewhere. I need you to promise me something before we leave."

"What?" Alan asked suspiciously.

"That you be extra careful around the house. You, my dear brother, are accident-prone," Virgil smirked, earning a disgruntled mumble from Alan. "Second, if you start having problems breathing or start feeling more pain than before, you are to contact me, understood?"

"I understand," Alan nodded, meeting his older brother's hazel eyes.

"No secrets," Virgil emphasized, holding out his pinkie like when they were kids.

"No secrets," Alan smiled, wrapping his pinkie around his brother's.

"Oh, and Al, you know I have to tell Dad and Scott about this, right?"

Alan groaned. "Do you have to?"

"I won't tell them how I found out. However, you're officially off duty for a while, so they were bound to find out," Virgil reasoned.

"As you said, no secrets," the younger blonde sighed, accepting his fate.

"Now, you're learning!" Virgil chuckled and helped him climb out of bed.

"Just do me a favor and wait until I've fallen asleep," Alan pleaded. "Less likely to be smothered by the two of them at once."

"Deal," Virgil smirked, giving his baby brother a side hug.

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 12: Follow Me to the Letter

Keith takes a moment to reflect on his first few movements on Altea.

First  Previous  Next

Keith fails to show up to court again. Lance isn’t overly surprised. The man (kit?) seems to struggle with patience, and holding court tends to push him to the very precipice of his self-control.

It’s odd, truth be told, that Keith is so lacking patience when he’s always so reserved. Lance would like to see the Galra open up a bit more. Quiznak, he’d just like to see him a bit more! Keith is almost always wandering around somewhere or hiding in his loft. Lance finds it lonely, but he’s not sure if he’s lonely for himself or for Keith.

He doesn’t have time for others anymore, having thrust himself into his adult duties. The duties that have been neglected since tensions rose between Altea and Daibazaal. His sister is gone. He and his two friends are quite busy, and never free at the same time. He only has Keith and maybe Adam, and Keith has only him and maybe Adam, when the other Altean isn’t running around micromanaging everything. That’s all there is for them.

Lance heads for the only place he’d bother to check before returning to their room. If Keith isn’t in the library, then he’s either in their quarters or wandering about. If he’s wandering about, Lance will never find him. He wouldn’t want to. He’s pretty sure Keith goes out to be alone.

Keith is in the library. He's sitting at a desk, stylus in hand, staring vacantly at his datapad. It looks like he’s been there for a while. “Hey. Finished holding court? How many windows are we replacing?”

“Yes, I am finished. None. However, there’s a missing cobblestone that broke the wheel of a wagon yesterday. So, a legitimate minor concern. I’ve issued a decree to have it fixed. I also performed a marriage.”

“Hm. Was it as dry and lifeless as ours?”

“No, they were passionate and full of joy. I’d never performed a marriage before. It was... nice.”

“Hm.” Keith taps listlessly at his datapad.

“So what have you been doing?”

“I… Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

Pfft. Right. Lance pulls over another chair, sitting backwards with his arms crossed over the back.

“Nonsense! What’s the matter?”

“I wanted to write a letter to my mother and brother.” Keith stares at nothing. Perhaps a dust mote or something. “I just can’t think of anything.”

“I thought you wanted to sever ties with your mother? At least temporarily?”

Keith’s ears droop as his body seems to shrink. “I know… I know I did. But…”

“But you miss her.” Keith nods, and Lance reaches over and rubs that spot Keith himself sometimes does. The one behind his ear that releases soothing hormones. Keith leans into the touch, allowing Lance to comfort him. That’s more proof than anything else that Keith is upset; he’s allowing himself to be cared for. It's nice to know the Galra trusts him, though. “Would you like me to help? I can help you get something down if you want.”

Keith nods. “Thank you.”

Lance smiles. Keith usually comes off as lukewarm thanks to his quiet, reserved ways, but Lance has found that if he says something, he means a lot more than the words he uses. 'Thank you' means 'I deeply appreciate your help and compassion. I could probably use some kind of affection later and definitely need some cheering up.'

“Alright. So first give a general greeting. Talk about how you’re feeling, genuinely, but avoid specific incidents.”

“You want me to tell them-”

“That you miss them so much it hurts? That you’re not happy, but not really unhappy either? That you just feel kinda empty? Yes. Tell them. But don't tell them that nobody will let you do anything and that you feel useless and imprisoned.”

Keith swallows hard. His eyes burn quite suddenly. “How-”

“Allura and Romelle. It’s how I feel when I think of them. And how they felt their first few phoebs on Daibazaal. Well that's how Allura felt. Romelle... That's for another time.” Keith glances up to see that Lance looks as vaguely sad as he himself feels. Keith begins to write as Lance gets up, thumbing through tablets and pulling random volumes from the shelves. Adam hustles in moments later, drops his own datapad, and begins to assist Lance with his work.

Mother, Takashi,

It’s been a little while now since I have seen you, and I have not heard from Daibazaal at all, so I assume you are doing well. Life here is fine. I am not happy, but I am not quite unhappy, either. Crown Prince Lancel is the only person I truly interact with, at least for long periods of time. I believe he understands my situation, given how dearly he misses his sister and her lover. He mentions them often.

I made one friend, and Lance wants me to meet someone else, but he’s been busy lately and Pidge is not always available. The guards won’t talk to me. Adam says it’s because I haven’t proven myself yet. He says they’ll warm up to me if I contribute something. I’m not sure I believe him.

“Lance?”

“Hm? Hey, what is it with Lotor and his aversion to water conservation?”

“I’ve finished. Water conservation? What for?”

“Well it’s not like it falls from the sky, or anything!” Lance whines. Keith frowns. Yes, water does fall from the sky. What is Lance talking about? “Okay, so now write about one thing you dislike and one thing you enjoy. Then ask them a question they can respond to so you set up a correspondence.”

Keith sucks on his lip for a moment, continues writing.

Lance holds court every movement. Sometimes twice, if he runs out of time the first day. I find it tedious and frustrating. Alteans live such comfortable lives, they find the most trivial things to complain about. I find myself at the end of my patience more quickly than even you might believe. I don’t know how Lance puts up with it. I think he’d rather do something more useful. But he also doesn’t wish for Alfor to know he is useful. I don’t understand, but Adam expects me to go along with it.

It’s pretty here. The ground is covered in soft moss. There are trees that sound like windchimes, and the garden has little flying creatures called bumblemoths. I like them. I’ve befriended a few. They keep trying to follow me inside. Lance pretends to be mad about it, but he is fond of them too. He’s named them after their colors. There are six.

Keith glances back to where Lance is sitting at his own desk, glaring down at a few different tablets, searching for keywords, typing furiously on his datapad, leaning to whisper something to Adam every now and them. “What about this? Lotor says that the Stone Forest is rife with predators?”

“We also have predators.”

“But not this many! What the utter quiznak?! They turn their prey inside out before eating them?! ”

“Okay, that I don’t like. That’s just too much. Completely unnecessary.”

“Right?!” Lance mutters something under his breath. Keith smiles, tentatively fond. 

Oddly, the thing I find myself enjoying most is the Prince himself. Lance is kind, understanding, and does not want to touch me. In fact, I believe he is horrified by my age. He does not look at me while I change.

Or perhaps he simply finds me ugly. I do not know. But still, he is funny, and he treats me well. King Alfor gave him a choice, and he chose to marry me. I can’t help but respect him for that. He loves his people and is working to better their lives. It would seem he also works closely with Lotor, perhaps to break down their fathers’ more archaic policies.

He seems smart, too, despite not appearing to know what rain is. He also did not know what taxes were until Adam told him, but caught on very quickly. I think he will make a good king one day. I am curious to see what he may become, if we might become better friends. Speaking of friends, Takashi, have you spoken to Adam? He says no, but that man lies like I take a drink of water. Mother, how are you and Kolivan? I miss you both, and hope you are well. Are the guards in top form yet?

Has the brush begun to bloom yet? What phases are the moons in? Altea doesn’t have a moon and I miss it, though I can sometimes see Kraav’nik’da during the darkest hours of night.

Love,

Crown Prince Yorak (Keith) of the Kingdom of Altea and of House Kogane of Daibazaal

“I make a potion for that,” Adam says, cutting through Keith’s thoughts of home.

“Really?” Lance raises his eyebrows, seeming only mildly surprised.

“Of course. Impotence cures are one of the most common requests I receive. That and contraception.”

“Well, fortunately for us, there is no question of Crown Prince Lotor’s genetics. His heritage is quite apparent.”

“Thank quiznak for that. With all our other problems, paternity is the last thing I want to deal with. It’s good you look so like both of your parents.”

“Given my father’s proclivities, it’s a miracle he managed to procreate at all.”

“Too true. Too true. Honestly, I like my own chances better. And that’s saying something.”

Keith smirks, deciding to make his way into the conversation. “Shiro’s biology is identical to mine. I’m sure you wouldn’t have too much trouble.”

Lance laughs evilly, grinning ear-to-pointed ear. He picks up quickly.

“Oh not this again,” Adam mutters.

“Is that so? Tell us, Adam. Did you send Shiro off with a ‘going away’ present?” Lance is thoroughly unrepentant, moving to lean against the back of Keith’s chair. Keith hides his laughter behind his hand.

“That would be the ugliest quiznaking kid,” Keith snickered.

“You never know. Lotor turned out okay,” Lance countered. “Pity he can’t bear. Or myself...”

“That’s it. I quit. You’re on your own, your Majesties.” The princes protest, still laughing. “No. I draw the line at listening to His Majesty’s sexual fantasies. I’m not that kind of attendant. Good day.”

Keith giggles, watching his spouse double over with laughter, waving as Adam flees the room. He eyes Lance, wonders what it’s like to look at and be physically attracted to any random person. He brings up another form, typing in Shiro’s comms code. He has things to tell his brother.

Alteans are weird.

[redrobinhoods]

illicit affairs | Chapter 2, Crossfire

AO3 Link | 4,800 words (approx) | Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: Fox nurses his injuries as he continues to protect Riyo from harm.

He wasn’t dead. The lights above him were bright, even through closed eyes, and he turned his head to the side to escape their glare. When he finally opened them, it was to a blue-skinned woman with golden eyes. “Senator Chuchi.” He mumbled.

“Commander Fox. You’re awake.”

“How long…?”

“Two days. They kept you under while they were assessing the damage. They were deciding if they should retire you or not. I thought that clones didn’t retire.”

“Retire may be the wrong word then. Perhaps decommissioned or ‘put to sleep’ would be a better way to put it.” He watched her eyes widen in horror. “It’s okay, Senator. It doesn’t hurt, not really. One shot and you just fall asleep.”

“Are they going to kill you then, Commander?”

“No, they would’ve done it already.” He moved to sit up, and Senator Chuchi reached over to help. His back burned, but the pain was localized. The blasts didn’t get far into his body. Maybe the assassin thought that the bolts would penetrate through his armor and reach the senator. They would’ve been wrong. Unlike the rest of the GAR, the Coruscant Guard’s armor was made so that they could act as a human shield. As hard as it was for shot to penetrate, it was impossible for it to get back out.

Senator Chuchi didn’t draw back after Fox was upright, keeping her hand on Fox’s shoulder. “That’s no way to thank my hero.”

“I was just doing my job, Senator.”

“Riyo, Commander. Please call me Riyo.” He wasn’t supposed to. The Guard was supposed to stay away from knowing senators on a first-name basis or run the risk of being accused of corruption. And yet, it felt right.

“Then call me Fox. Or CC-1010, if you want to be really personal. But that’s only when I’m in trouble.”

Riyo laughed and let her hand fall from Fox’s shoulder to his forearm. “Are you in trouble often, Fox?”

“What do you think, Riyo?” He savored the way her name rolled off his lips.

She winked in response. “Would you be in trouble if I brought some lunch by your office when you’re healed?”

“No, ma’am. As long as you don’t bring your assassins with you. Have they found out who wants you dead?”

“Not yet, but they will soon. Commander Thire brought the bounty hunter in yesterday. I believe they’re being questioned as we speak.”

“She’s given us nothing yet.” Commander Stone walked into the room with a paper cup of caf in one hand and his helmet in the other and took the seat next to Riyo’s. “But we’ve had plenty on our hands in the meantime. The Senate Guards in charge of the Natural Formations room said that they were dismissed over the official comm channel. Apparently, they didn’t consider the fact that there were still beings in the museum, let alone in the room, and just left without securing the area.”

A beep sounded, and the three beings turned to the machines next to Fox. One monitor was flashing an ‘Elevated Heartrate’ warning.

“That’s what I thought too, Commander. I figured you’d like to chew them out yourself.”

“As a matter of fact, I would. Have the Captain of the Guard in my office tomorrow at 0800.”

Stone nodded. “Sir.”

“You’re going back so soon?” Riyo lightly squeezed his arm.

“Never a day off, Senator.” Fox gave her a weak smile.

“Then I’ll stop by around noon tomorrow.” She turned to Commander Stone. “Can I bring you men anything? I have quite a refreshments budget that I’ve barely dipped into.”

“I couldn’t ask anything of you, Senator Chuchi. But our men did enjoy the sweets that you brought us last time.” Stone was underexaggerating how much they had been appreciated. In a world of ration bars, it was good to see his brothers attempting to split something four to six ways so that everyone could try it.

“Traditional Pantoran delicacies. I’ll bring more if that’s to your liking.”

“That would be very kind of you, Senator.” Fox attempted another small pained smile.

“It would be my pleasure, Commander. I don’t know how I could ever begin to repay you.”

Just looking into those golden eyes was enough. “I don’t suppose you could stay out of trouble.”

“That’s actually why I’m here.” Stone cut back into the conversation. “The senator still needs a security detail so that she can return to her residence. We’ve kept her in a safehouse for the past two nights, but I’m afraid she’s going cage-crazy.”

The pale green on Riyo’s cheeks darkened in what Fox assumed was a Pantoran blush.

“How large a detail?” It was back to business then.

“I was thinking one man inside, two outside the door, one on the roof, and one man on stand-by in a speeder. Do you still have the sensors that Commander Thorn installed, Senator Chuchi?”

“Haven’t touched them, Commander Stone.”

“You’re amazing.” He turned back to Fox. “Thire suggested that you be the one to stay inside the residence. He thought that the arrangement would be more comfortable for both yourself and the senator. You can take some time away from the office, and the senator has a capable bodyguard at all times. Would that be acceptable to you, Senator Chuchi?”

“It would be, thank you.” She said without giving the idea much thought. They’d obviously gone over this as a possibility before. Fox thanked his training for the control he’d taken over his heartrate. No need for them to know how close he was to strangling Thire. He hoped that Riyo hadn’t noticed the sudden tension in his arm.

“Excellent. We’ll put Jek and Impulse on the detail since you know them. Have you met Rys? He and Jek go way back. I’ll put him on there too. I’ll get some more volunteers to swap out when I go back to the office. If you leave your residence, Senator, you must always have at least two men accompanying you. We’ll keep you in the safehouse tonight while we secure your apartment, but after that you are free to go about your duties if accompanied. Otherwise, I think you know the drill by now. And you will have Commander Fox at your beck and call.”

“Thank you, Commander Stone. I’m certain that if the Coruscant Guard is as competent at finding criminals as you are securing buildings this should be over in no time.” She didn’t sound excited at the prospect of returning to normal, and Fox wondered, perhaps hoped, if he had something to do with it.

“If only, Senator. Variables. Come, we should be leaving.” Stone stood, following shortly by Riyo, who looked hesitant to leave.

“Stone, are they planning on running any hypertests this time?” Fox gestured to the datapad that the last medical droid had left on the small table underneath the monitor rack. Stone set down his cup of caf and picked the tablet up, tapping through it familiarly. Riyo moved closer to look over his arm at the screen.

“Don’t see any, sir. From the look of things, you’re close enough to your last physical to be mostly cleared. They’re going to test for any numbing sensations, that’ll probably be conducted through touch, and apparently your ‘vertebral cavity’ was untouched so you should be all good. No lasting impairment, topical senoti cream treatment, clone upkeep records suggest immediate dismissal of ‘CC-1010’.”

Fox nodded, lowering himself back into the pillows of the medical bed. “Thank you, Stone.”

“Commander Stone, could I have a moment alone with Commander Fox?”

“Of course, Senator.” Stone reached over and clapped Fox on the shoulder, giving him a small squeeze of comfort, then stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Riyo turned back to Fox, sitting down once more on the stool and taking his hand. She pulled it into her lap and ran her fingers over the rough callouses that lined his palms. He didn’t dare speak. After a few moments she brought his hand to her lips and planted a kiss across his knuckles before returning the hand to his side.

“Thank you for saving my life.” She said.

“Riyo-.” She placed a finger across his lips as she rose.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Fox.” Then with a swish of her skirt she was gone.

---

“Those golden ones were very nice, Senator.” Riyo stood with Jek and Rys practically pressed against her in the crowded market as they peered down at the selection of sweets before them. Jek and Rys had been assigned as her daytime guard, with two other men whose names she had yet to learn relieving them at night.

"How many men are in the Guard?” She asked, looking to the available tins on display.

“Too many, ma’am. But about fifty usually come through the Senate offices in a day. Ten on staff, probably around forty for meetings or breaks.” Rys answered.

“Thank you. We’re ready to order now!” Riyo flagged down the elderly Pantoran woman who ran the stand and was very familiar with the senator. They ended up with three tins, each of which officially carried thirty sweets, though Riyo was sure that there was more in actuality. One contained solely the golden sweets that Jek had spoken of.

“Thank you, Senator Chuchi.” Jek said as they walked back to the waiting speeder. “It’s not often we get to eat anything besides ration bars and caf.”

“You’re welcome, Jek. But it is really the least I could do after you saved my life.”

“Commander Fox really did all the hard work, ma’am.”

"But the assassin wouldn’t have stopped if it weren’t for the rest of you stepping in.” She glanced around to make sure that no one was listening to their conversation. “How is the commander? He had the meeting with the Captain of the Guard this morning did he not?”

“He did, ma’am.” Rys looked around before continuing. “Ripped the captain a new one. I was in Commander Stone’s office with Jek and we could hear him.”

Jek nodded his agreement. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that angry before. He must have a soft spot for you, Senator.”

“Does he?” Riyo tightened her grip on the tin she was carrying.

"Oh yeah.” Rys nodded. “Don’t worry, you have our blessing if you two want to, well.”

Riyo felt the lines on her cheeks darkening, though the tension in her shoulders began to ease. “Want to what, Rys?”

“To be blunt, ma’am, to pursue some recreational activity. I don’t know, get him to loosen up and live a little. We used to be able to get him down to Seventy-Nine’s with us, but the job is getting to him. Commander Stone has been threatening to drug him to get him to sleep anywhere outside of his office. He’s been in a bad shape ever since the mishandling of the Jedi Temple bombing.” Their arrival at the speeder ended the conversation. Reaching the speeder first, Rys jumped up to help the senator in. By now she was becoming accustomed to the Coruscant Guard’s speeders, but appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

“Where to?” The driver asked. She couldn’t remember who was on shift right now, and she didn’t recognize the back of the driver’s armor. she’d have to check her datapad later.

“The Senate, please.”

---

Riyo watched as every bare eye in the room widened upon her entrance, flitting back and forth between her and the tins she and her company carried. There was at least one exclamation whose meaning she didn’t catch.

“I heard that there wasn’t enough last time.” Her smile widened when her statement was greeted by more than a few nods.

“I think you need to throw yourself in front of more guns, Commander.” A guardsman said, his gaze fixed behind Riyo. She turned to see Fox and Thire entering the room behind her, both fully armored.

“It’s Thire’s turn. But I don’t think that the Chancellor will buy you lot anything.”

“The Chancellor has the Red Guard for dramatics.” Thire dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. “We’re just there to actually protect him.” The comment brought a wave of chuckles as the men returned to their duties, though their eyes still flickered in Riyo’s direction.

“Come, Senator Chuchi.” Fox waved her into his office as he dismissed Jek and Rys in the same motion. She passed Rys the tin she was carrying for him to place with the others and followed Fox inside, shutting the door behind her.

“No salutes?” She asked.

“If they stood to attention every time Stone, Thire, or I walked into the room we’d get nothing done around here.” He connected the datapad he had been carrying to the computer terminal that sat on the edge of his desk then turned to face her.

“How are you doing, Fox?”

He took a moment to respond. Riyo could only imagine the expression he was wearing underneath the helmet. “I’m… fine. Thank you, Riyo.”

“No.” She shook her head wryly. “How’s your back?”

There was another pause. “It’s fine.”

She shook her head again. “There’s no way, I saw how drugged up you were in the hospital. It must be bothering you.”

“Perhaps a little.” He gave up. “I am still more than capable of carrying out my duties.”

She stepped towards him and placed a hand on his bicep, drumming her fingers against the plastoid that greeted her. She could imagine the tired man from the hospital under the red armor. Despite Fox being taller and a trained soldier she wanted desperately to protect him. “All the same, your body needs to rest so it can heal.”

“With respect, Riyo, it’s not my body. It’s the Republic’s.”

“Is it? I thought that the great Commander Fox was to protect me, not the Republic.” She let her hand fall from his shoulder, sliding down his arm as she raised her head to look at him.

His helmet turned ever to slightly to his left in a minuscule nod, which she was beginning to recognize as his gesture denoting humor. “Point taken. We should depart for your apartment soon. I want to go over security with you.”

“If you can get Jek and Rys back out the door that would be fine by me.” Her comment drew a shallow laugh from Fox before he unplugged the datapad and escorted her back into the mild delicacy-caused chaos of the main office space.

---

“What would you boys like for dinner?”

Fox looked up from the datapad to where Riyo was reclined in the oversized chair. “We don’t eat on shift.”

“Then what do you want for dinner? They have shifts, you don’t.”

“I’ll eat a ration bar.” He’d put a few in the small pack he’d brought from the barracks. She shook her head. Fox wasn’t used to being refuted and here she’d challenged him more in the past two days than he had ever been in his life. Sure, Stone and Thire would defy him from time to time, but that was between brothers of equal military rank. This was a civilian, a senator but still a civilian. He rather liked it.

“That’s not dinner, Fox. I’ll make a stir fry.” She set the datapad she had been writing on onto the arm of the chair and walked across the room to the small kitchen. Once she’d begun to heat a pan she turned back to Fox. “Do you know what stir fry is?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then come help me chop the vegetables if you have a moment. I’ll show you. I learned this recipe from one of my representatives.”

Fox rose from the couch, biting back a groan of pain as the movement rippled down his back. He’d never realized how many actions travel through the spine before now. But he couldn’t let Riyo know how much pain he was still in. She’d have a hard time forgiving herself for being the cause of it.

She pushed a knife and what he assumed was a ‘vegetable’ into his hands and showed him how she wanted him to cut it. It was much easier than he assumed, and almost fun when Riyo was whisking around him in the tiny kitchen. He’d never cooked before, nor watched any being cook, and he was a little suspicious when she dumped everything into the single pan.

“There’s no way it’s that easy.” He said when she declared dinner to be ready.

“It’s that easy.” She grinned, presenting him with a bowl. He took it from her hesitantly. “Don’t look so nervous. It’s good food.” She chided, leading him over to the bar separating the living spaces from the kitchen. He felt her eyes on him as he hesitantly took a bite.

“That’s weird.” He said finally.

“What do you mean, weird?” He was worried that he’d offended her, but her eyes were still playful as she watched him take another bite.

“I’ve never tasted anything like this. Any of it.”

“How about the meat?”

“Not in this form. I guess ours is more ground up and we don’t put anything on it.” Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure it was meat anymore by the time it arrived in the mess hall.

"The sauce is the best part!” Her gaze was still playful, but also sad. He still wasn’t sure if he liked the food, there was almost too much flavor, but he didn’t dislike it either, so he tried to match the pace at which Riyo was eating. Eating for pleasure was a foreign concept, but something about this brought her joy so he would play along. He was good at improvising.

They didn’t speak much after dinner. Riyo went back to her notes and Fox went back to the files Thire had sent him. The bounty hunter had started talking and the Guard had already brought up a variety of beings who could be responsible for the attack. There had been threats made the week before the gala, that had been the reason for Chairman Papanoida’s security request, but any motives were still unknown.

Fox had been pouring over Riyo’s file and what she had recently supported or not supported when a chronometer chimed 2200. He closed the file with a sigh and closed his eyes for a moment. He’d need to put more of the senoti cream on his wounds. Despite his initial reservations about the Endorian tree sap, it appeared to be working. While the bacta treatment he received had healed most of the wounds, the senoti cream was supposed to help prevent excessive scarring, which may have restricted his movement. Or so he was told. He set the datapad aside and stood up from the couch. “Is there a place I could lay my armor out of the way?”

Riyo glanced up from her datapad. “Anywhere you like. The top of my dresser is clean if you would like to store it off of the ground.”

He nodded and grabbed his helmet off of the side table where it had passed the evening. In her bathroom he stripped off the upper half of his armor and pulled his blacks down to his hips. He had left his pack by the bathroom door earlier, and he pulled out the jar that he’d been given upon being discharged from the medical facility.

“Let me help you with that.” He turned to see Riyo standing in the doorway.

“Riyo, I can’t-.” She reached out and took the container from Fox.

“Yes, you can.” She ran her hand over his bare shoulder and turned him so that he was facing the mirror. Fox watched her reflection as she dipped her fingers in the jar then reached towards his waist. He let out a groan as her fingers rubbed against his skin. “Your back is so tight.” She muttered, massaging the cream into the damaged tissue. “Have you ever considered a massage?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

"Come here." Riyo stepped back, then walked into her bedroom. He grabbed his armor from the counter and followed her. "Lie down on the bed.” Hesitantly, he lay his armor on the dresser and crossed the room to her bed, where she pushed him into the soft blankets. “Close your eyes, that’s an order.” He did as he was told as she brought the senoti cream onto the wound between his shoulders. This one was less painful, had been less severe, but he allowed himself to sigh as she worked the cream into his skin. Then her hands moved back down to his hips, her fingers trailing across his skin, and pressed down into his lower back. He let out another groan as she kneaded her hands against his skin. Maybe his muscles were tight. “Who knew that the great Commander Fox, leader of the Coruscant Guard and my own personal savior, would be such a sap for back rubs.” She whispered down to him. He tried to think of a clever response, but she’d moved her hands up to his midback and he let out the first sound that he would’ve labelled a moan. It felt like his ribs were shifting under her touch, maybe they were.

“Don’t tell the boys.” He hummed into the blanket.

“Never.” He could feel her hair draping down against his back now. It felt so nice to be enveloped in her. He pushed away the mental image of her holding him in her arms. It wasn’t right. They would be ruined. The image came back anyways once she reached his shoulders. “Sit up, I need a better angle.”

He pushed himself off of the blankets and realized that his face must be flushed from the shock of cold air. If it was, Riyo paid it no mind, moving Fox to sit on the edge of her bed as she sat down cross-legged behind him. Now she started from the top of his neck, moving down in slow circular motions. Once she’d reached the base of his neck Riyo uncrossed her legs and wrapped them around him, scooting her body closer to his. He didn’t say a thing, and neither did she as she worked her way across and back down to his shoulder blades. Her hands came to rest with her right hand on his shoulder, and her left hand on his side. Then he was being pulled backwards, coming to rest with his head against her chest. He took her right hand in his, holding it to his chest, and hesitantly stretched his left arm back so that his hand lay beside her head, enveloped in soft purple curls. He felt her head turn from the movement of her hair, then felt a kiss being planted on the inside of his wrist.

“Senator Chuchi, I believe that I would like to see you again.”

“And what makes you say that, Commander Fox?” Her voice hummed against the back of his head. He turned his head to the side, laying his ear against her sternum and listening to her heartbeat.

“I don’t think I know the words to express that desire, Senator.” Her hand moved from his side to his head and she ran her fingers through his curly hair.

“Then try your best.”

“I think that I would like to die here, in your arms. A shot to the chest or gut and fading away in your embrace.”

“And what other death would that be preferable to?” Her voice came out with a slight quiver, but her touch didn’t falter as she continued to run her fingers through Fox’s hair.

“Bleeding out on the concrete platform of some landing strip because of a speeder-bomb. Aspirating blood for some senator voting against being’s rights. Gutted by some bounty hunters trying to cash in on a senatorial bounty.” He suddenly fell silent, biting back the deaths of his brothers.

“Then I guess you’ll have to become my personal bodyguard, so I can always be there.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry, Fox. I can only imagine the things you’ve seen.”

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink further into her embrace even as guilt gnawed at him. “I don’t deserve this. You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Then tell me.”

He couldn’t have stopped himself from speaking if he tried.

“I killed one of my brothers.” He felt her chest stutter against his head, but then her breathing deepened once more and he continued. “I don’t remember firing the shot. I was in the Chancellor’s office, then I was watching him fall to the ground. It’s like someone else took over. It should’ve been set to stun; it’s always set to stun.” His voice broke and he stopped. Riyo’s hand continued to stroke his hair as he felt a tear slide down his cheek.

“You’re a good solider, Fox. You were following orders.”

“Following orders, when you know they’re wrong?”

“They never raised you to question authority.” Her hand stopped to rest in his hair. “Maybe I’m overstepping my bounds as a senator right now.”

“Riyo, you’re not forcing me to do anything. I’m supposed to obey my authority figures, but I still know how I want to react.”

“And right now?”

“I want to follow your orders, Senator. I want this.” The last bit came out breathier and more desperate than he had intended. Riyo didn’t respond, but she drew her arms away and moved to sit up. Fox obliged, sliding himself off the bed to stand before her.

“Could you stay in my bed with me tonight, Commander?” Her eyes were wide and cautious, and so gold.

“I’d love to.” If she’d asked a day earlier when he was hooked up to the monitors the machine would’ve read ‘Irregular Heartbeat’.

She rose off the bed to stand before him. “Let me change into bedclothes then.” Then she pattered back towards the bathroom. She turned back to him when she got to the doorframe. “Make yourself comfortable, however you would sleep in the barracks.” She looked him up and down. “Or, stay how you are.” Then she was out of his sight.

Normally, in the barracks Fox would sleep in his blacks with his armor half assembled on his body so that he could rush when called for. He didn’t think that the senator would like to sleep next to a pile of plastoid. He pulled his blacks back over his torso and began to disassemble his armor from the hips down, laying it in a neat pile with the rest of the armor on the dresser. He placed his comm on top. Riyo hadn’t returned, so he took a seat on the edge of her bed to wait, not wanting to overstep his bounds. He ran his hands over the soft blanket beneath him, still wrestling with the implications of what he and the senator were doing, and was almost startled when Riyo reentered the room, wearing a purple satin jumpsuit that fell loosely over her frame. She had pulled her hair down, and it hung around her face in a soft puff. Everything in her room was soft. She walked over to him and lowered herself onto his lap, straddling his legs and pulling his arms around her hips before wrapping her arms around his neck. “I would love for you to hold me, Fox. If it fancies you.” She brought one hand back from his neck and gently ran her thumb across his lips, and he felt her other fingers brush against the scars that crossed his throat.

“It does.” He muttered against her thumb. He reached up from her waist and pulled her down into the pillows beside him. She squirmed for a moment to pull the blankets up over them before burrowing her head into his chest. He wrapped one arm around her, as he had when he’d taken the blasts meant for her, and pulled her closer to himself, turning slightly onto his back so that she was pillowed in his chest.

“Commander Fox, I believe that I would like to see you again.” She mumbled.

“And what makes you say that, Senator Chuchi?”

“I don’t think I know the words to express that desire, Fox.”

He was so screwed if one of his men walked in. He decided that it was worth it though. He could feel his execution already, but if he was going to die for the Republic it was going to be on his terms. Of all the things he could be die for, loving a senator felt like the best option.

[scribbles97]

Left Behind - Chapter 30

PART 1 / PART 2

Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 / Chapter 25 / Chapter 26 / Chapter 27 / Chapter 28 / Chapter 29

TRIGGER WARNING - MENTION OF MISCARRIAGE

It was only out of convenience that she and Lee had agreed to share the twin room of the suite. After all, Sally had volunteered to take the single room and Hugh and Kyrano the other twin. It left the boys to top and tail in the two double rooms and John and Ridley to take the double room across the hall. 

It didn’t mean Val had to like it. 

Lee was insufferable when he was worried. 

She knew he meant well. Knew it was simply because he cared. Knew that he got scared that he would lose something more than what he had in the past. 

It was because of his and Lucy’s parents that International Rescue had been born. Jeff had seen the grief of the loss and how it had affected his wife and his best friend. He had been there when the blame had been thrown back and forth, if only someone had been there faster, if there had been something to dig through the snow quicker, if only one of them had gone with them.

She remembered the day well though, remembered how both Gordon and Alan had been fussing, Virgil had had the flu, and Scott, John, and Jeff had gone to the store simply to escape it all. Her parents in law had wanted to escape it too, suggested to Lee that they took a walk up the mountain for some fresh air before dinner. They had tried to insist that he go with them and leave Val and Lucy with the three moaning children that just wanted to play in the snow. 

She remembered how he had refused, insisted that he was going to make the most of the time with his wife before he headed to Mars just a matter of weeks later. 

Absentmindedly, she felt for the ring on her finger, the plain silver band still in place after all that time. 

She knew he didn’t really blame her for what had happened to his parents. It was just a case of hurt and unfortunate circumstances that everything bad that had happened to Lee had always happened whilst she was around. 

She had been the one to lose their baby after all. 

A rescue that only she knew she shouldn’t have been on. It had been all hands on deck, everyone needed to help where they could. There was a reason she hated earthquakes most of all. Aftershocks that nobody could ever quite predict and buildings already made unstable threatened further destruction. 

The stupid thing was she hadn’t even been inside when it had happened. When the aftershock had hit and the community centre had come down and a stray rebar hit her just in the wrong place. 

She knew immediately there was no hope for the baby she had been carrying, barely a clump of cells but already so much a part of her. 

It wasn’t until much later that she found out that there never would be a baby. It was a sacrifice the doctors had had to make in order to save her. 

Surrogacy and adoption had been thrown around as ideas too early on, when she and Lee had still been hurting and grieving for someone they had never even met. Perhaps she would have considered it, if only life hadn’t gotten so hectic, if five nephews and an adoptive niece hadn’t filled the hole left. 

Lee had gotten angry. Blamed her for being out in the field when she shouldn’t have been. Not only had she risked her own life and that of their baby, but others too. More what ifs had been thrown around, accusations that couldn’t be taken back even if only said in anger. 

She could pinpoint the exact day their marriage had ended, even if no papers had ever been signed. 

It was only a fear of being lonely that left them together. 

And it was only habit that they shared a drawer in the hotel room. 

Except when she came back from her shower, half the drawer was empty. Glancing around the room, she realised that a whole half of it was empty. No glasses on the bedside table, no dirty socks left at the bottom of the bed, and come to think of it, no toothbrush in the bathroom. 

No sign of Lee anywhere. 

She should have seen it coming, they were moving Lucy that day. Taking her home to the Island so that her family could be near her even in between rescues. 

Except Lee had disagreed, had insisted that she would be better off in hospital with real supervision and real equipment available. Virgil and Sally had quickly shot him down, insisting that Elliot was more than capable of monitoring Lucy and their equipment more than sufficient. 

With the rest of the family on side, there had been no competition. 

Pulling out her phone she set it to dial as she rubbed her cropped hair dry. 

“Val,” The accented voice of Kyrano answered, “I’m currently securing the airport.”

She sighed, rummaging through her bag with a shake of her head, “Lee’s running.”

Kyrano snorted, at least that was what it sounded like down the line, some noise of disapproval before he tutted. Val stayed silent, waiting for some confirmation that he at least wouldn’t get out of that airport without Kyrano knowing. 

“Have you spoken to him?”

Holding her phone to her ear using her shoulder as she fastened her bra she rolled her eyes. Everyone always left it to her to speak to Lee, some old assumption relating to the remains of their marriage no doubt. On occasion the duty would fall to Lucy, being the older of the pair there was a certain authority she held over Lee that she was willing to use when needed. 

Lucy was unavailable though, so it was clear who the job fell to. 

“Not yet.” She sighed, kicking her legs in the hope her jeans would pull on just that little bit easier, “I wasn’t sure if anyone might have spoken to him, didn’t want to scare him further away if I could help it.”

“He might not be running,” Kyrano reasoned, “He did alright after Jeff vanished.”

Vanished. The word still seemed wrong considering for so long they had been saying how he had died. 

When Jeff had vanished Lee had been there, had been the one that had tried to get Jeff off of the damn ship before it blew. He had been there to actively do something at the time of the accident. 

He hadn’t even known where Lucy was when she had been hurt. 

“This is different,” She murmured, “And you know it.”

Kyrano sighed again, “Alright, I’ll tell my people to keep an eye out but you need to find out for sure if he’s a definite flight risk.”

Val scoffed as she picked up her shirt from the pile, “I’ll find out alright.”

“Keep me updated.” Kyrano told her, “I’ll see you at the airport later.”

“F.A.B.” 

Throwing the phone onto her bed, she glared at it briefly as she found the arm holes of the top. Like they didn’t already have enough on that day with moving Lucy, no minor deal given the security in place and medical equipment required. 

Groaning in frustration as the shirt refused to pull on, she stopped for a minute, standing with the stretchy material over her head and only one arm in a sleeve. 

“Inconsiderate bloody bas--” She uttered, spying the label of the shirt in front of her and realising it was back to front. 

“Why?” She uttered to herself as she pulled her arm from the sleeve and twisted the material around over her head, “Why can’t he just think? Huh? We’re all bloody stressed and unhappy and-- Oh come on!”

Top twisted too far or not far enough, she wasn’t sure, but the label was still in front of her face. Yanking it off of her head she threw it on the bed alongside her phone, deciding that the tank top would do, even if the weather outside was on the cooler side.

She’d be in her car at least. 

Grabbing her phone and leather jacket from the bed, she turned for the suite door, pressing dial as she went and resisting the urge to curse at the busy tone that answered. 

“Aunt Val?” Alan called as she passed him on the sofa, “Where you goin’?”

She smiled, turning to the youngest nephew as she straightened her collar, “Just to talk to your Uncle, have you seen him?”

“Nah,” Alan sighed, “heard him go though, like early this morning.”

Frowning at him, she tilted her head, “It’s not like you to be up early?”

His eyes fell to his datapad as he locked the screen and tilted it towards himself. 

“Alan.” She warned, dropping her voice and narrowing her eyes at him. 

He pouted, sighing as he looked up to her, “Please don’t get mad?”

Shifting over to sit on the arm of the sofa, she folded her arms, “What have you been up to?”

Still watching the tablet in his lap, he sighed heavily, “I was playing on the simulators, seeing if I could beat John’s high score.”

Raising an eyebrow, Val tilted her head, “And did you?”

“Turns out I couldn’t actually find what his score was.” Alan huffed, “So, I don’t know.”

From what Lucy had been saying, and from what she had seen herself, it was entirely possible that Alan could have at least matched John’s score. 

Not that she was going to tell him that yet. 

“How about, when we get back home you and me will have a go on the full simulator?” She offered, “Show the others what you’re made of.”

He sat straighter immediately, “Really? We can?”

If he had have been younger she would have ruffled his hair, but Alan was too big for that now. Too old to be treated like the youngest without protest. 

“You’ll fly Three Kid, I’ll make sure of it.”

She didn’t add that if Lee didn’t pull his finger out it might have been sooner than any of them had expected. 

***

Anger had been the prominent feature on Scott’s face when she had arrived at the hospital and told him Lee was gone. 

That had quickly been followed by rushed, tense words and a show of storming out of the room with a promise to find him. 

Val had been left with Lucy, silently praying that her sister-in-law would forgive her for letting her little brother slip away as he had. She didn’t doubt her best friend would understand, Lucy had always said how stubborn and pigheaded he was. They had all clashed with him one time or another. 

He’d never gone completely off the grid before though. 

Never vanished off silently in the early hours without anyone noticing. 

“He must hate me Luce,” She sighed, “First your parents, then the baby, now you. What kind of wife is also a bad luck charm?”

A gentle tut from the doorway made her turn, Hugh nodded to her once as he stepped into the room, hair scruffier than ever but shirt ironed to perfection. 

“Tell her Luce,” He muttered as he eased down into the chair on the other side of the bed, “How could she ever be bad luck?”

She eyed him across the bed, Hugh knew the story, had sat and drunk whiskey with her over it one night when the weather had been cold and the memories painful. Both had shared their stories, been reminded that they weren’t the only one in the world to feel like they had been at fault for losing someone dear to them. 

“Lee’s gone, Hugh.” She uttered, “Without a trace.”

He nodded, leaning back in the seat and resting his feet on the edge of the mattress, “That’s not on you though.”

She could have disagreed, insisted that she should have seen it coming and should have spoken to him to stop it. 

Something on her face must have given her away.

“Val,” Hugh chided softly, “Lee has made his choice. Just because he feels differently from the rest of us isn’t an excuse for him to run away. Our focus here is Lucy.”

Looking back to the bed, she took a breath. Lucy was still pale, eyes black, burns hidden beneath the swathes of bandages. 

“Do you blame yourself?” She whispered, not looking to Hugh as she took her friends bandaged hand. 

“Every damn day.”

It was easy to guess as much, Hugh cared for Lucy, more than just as a friend. He had been there for her when Jeff had vanished and it seemed like since then he had never left her side, even if they did live on the opposite sides of the world.

Hugh wasn’t Jeff though. 

And Lucy wasn’t one for always listening to what others told her. 

“You shouldn’t,” She looked up to him, knowing that he would be watching Lucy, “Nothing would have persuaded her to get out of there.”

Val knew it was only easy for her to say because at the time she hadn’t been there and she hadn’t known what had been going on. She could guess that was equally part of the reason Hugh was blaming himself. 

“I should have dragged her out sooner, she could have died Val.”

She didn’t voice the thought that Lucy wasn’t out of the woods yet. Hugh no doubt knew that anyway. 

“She was desperate to know about Jeff,” Val countered instead, “My guess is that nothing would have got her out of there.”

Nothing but the answers she needed to hear. 

Hugh closed his eye as he shook his head, reaching out to rest his hand over Lucy’s as he sighed. Something that looked like pain crossed his features as he bowed his head. 

“Hugh? What is it?”

His lips pursed as he looked up to her, his eye dark and exhausted. She could see the fear there, the look of a man that had almost lost everything and was terrified of losing what he did have left. 

Val knew how to wear the exact same look. 

“We won’t lose her.” She assured, smile tight as she looked back to Lucy. 

Hugh snorted as he sighed again, “That’s the problem Val, I think I already have.”