#Hunter x OFC

[oceansssblue]

100 CELEBRATION – PROMPT 8. PIRATES AU

HUNTER/F READER 💖💔🔥

WARNINGS: ALCOHOL, SCARS, BLOOD AND WOUNDS, STRONG DERROGATIVE LANGUAGE TOWARDS WOMAN, MENTIONED DEATH OF A PARENT. SEX SCENE (NOT VERY EXPLICIT, MORE SENSUAL&SUGGESTIVE).

Note: This came out to be so long! Just so you have an idea, it's 30 pages of word doc. I'll divide it in chapters in this same post so you can continue with your reading easier if you need to do it in more than one go. Don't worry about the warnings, this is mostly adventure with fluff and just a tiny sprinkle of angst (happy ending and all). Upgraded Hunter to Captain. On another note, only 4 more prompts left for the 100celeb! Enjoy and please let me know what you've thought. Reblog if u can! XX, Blue :)

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1. The Deal

The stench of alcohol would have been overwhelming if you hadn't been living in this kind of atmosphere your whole life. It makes the air around you feel charged and warm; clinging to the old wood of the chairs, tables, and countertops alike. The crowd is loud and roars with fits of laughter; a fight or two breaking in the corner of the bar. You don't spare them a second glance. If you had been a proper lady, all of this might have scared you away; but no, you're no lady. You're a pirate.

You feel at home in places like this. There's drunk men, yes, and dangerous ones; but you've never felt more alive than surrounded by fellow pirates. There's freedom, banter, and songs so ancient everybody is able to sing along. Even the sporadic fights are a reminder that you're all human; that you get angry and make mistakes with consequences. Sometimes those in a position of power don't even look like one; just empty carcasses dolled up with pretty dresses and jewelry that somehow have learned how to move and talk. All practiced, meaningless smiles and repetitive conversation. This is nothing like it.

You're enjoying all of this while being alone and silent in the far end of the counter, perched up on one of the chairs. A patron or two have attempted a conversation with you tonight; though a quick, cold side glance has been enough to shoo them away. You're not a conversationalist; and you're on one of those melancholic moods today. Memories of your father and your youth fleets by your mind; like gusps of wind you can never catch. Still, even when distracted and lost in thoughts from a life time ago, a part of you is always vigilant; cataloguing changes in your surroundings and possible dangers. It's the reason why you hear the almost imperceptible change of the crowd straigthening their backs and their voices changing to a wary, expectant tone. Footsteps; a lazy, slow spring, light and cautious in it's feet. Ready to fight -or flee-.

You don't turn around to acknowledge the newcomer. For others it may seem like you don't even care for who approaches you or what could he want from you; perhaps it even makes you look arrogant and overconfident. But oh, you are paying attention; and even if your posture seems relaxed and nochalant with your back still facing the crowd –the aproaching stranger– the hand carefully positioned over the knife hidden in your left boot is perfectly ready to strike.

The footsteps come to a halt right behind you. The atmosphere in the bar turns tense. It must be someone of importance, to make the crowd react like that. If it weren't, people would have just continued laughing and drinking.

"You're hard to find".

Cryptic. It's a peculiar voice; you'll give him that. Deep and slightly raspy, though somehow smooth and warm at the same time. A bit of an incongruence. You know a lot about that.

You take a slow, long gulp of your whisky before answering; your index playing with the rim of the glass.

A hint of amusement slips into your answer. You can't help but play –just enough– with danger; you've always been like that.

"Perhaps you're just bad at searching".

He hums, not impressed with your comeback. Your ears pick up the sound of the man dragging the closest chair towards you. The tone of his voice –relaxed but quietly carefull– doesn't change while he sits down.

"That would be a bit ironic, considering who I am".

You've played with the moment long enough. You glance at the man sitting next to you; eyes quickly cataloguing his hard facial features, long hair, strong shoulders and trim waist. With that half-tattoed face of his and the red bandana across his forehead, he's hard not to place.

"Ah" your lips turn up in a tiny smile. "Captain Hunter, famous treassure-seeker and leader of the misterious Marauder. Yes, that would be quite the joke".

You can't help but feel in danger –and curious– being this close to him. This man is one of the most well-known pirates on this side of the Five Seas; you'd grown up at the same time the stories of the Fett brothers had grown as well. They were said to be eight; along a longer list of cousins and other distant relatives. Some had tried to join their crew under the pretense of being one of them; but their physical similarities were a dead give away. If there was a Fett around you, you just knew. They had the same bone structure, a sort of sharpness to their features, and brown or amber eyes that rooted you in place. There was no need to question it.

You've watched members of the Fett family here and there –some in bars you frequented, some walking across the harbor, a few even taking their pleasure with a lady in the protection of a dark alley at night–, but you've never once talked to one of them. There's always a first, you guess.

"To what do I owe the honor, then?" You ask, feigning desinterest though this is the most exciting thing that has happened to you in the last three months.

The pirate scans you in silence. You understand the flush the Fetts often pull from the ladies; he's got one hell of a stare. It takes all the years you have facing oponents for you to not squirm.

"I'm sure you've heard something around" he finally starts, his eyes turning to scan the crowd. "I'm planning to start a new adventure soon, all the way up to the North Sea. I'm looking for recruits".

You arch an eyebrow, not fooled by his vague explanation. You don't like when people do that on purpose; it means there's always things to hide.

"I thought you boys didn't let any stranger join your little family club" you answer, almost teasingly.

He looks back at you. He gives you a single word.

"Exactly".

It's heavy and full of meaning. He's pointing out you're no ordinary stranger; admiting that you're somewhat special. You're not gonna' lie; it strokes your ego a bit, even if you don't let that distract you.

"You need me" you realise with a smirk. That's the only reason he'd allowed you to join them. You must have something he can't find in nobody else. But what would that be? "Why?"

The pirate shrugs. So quiet, so misterious. You're intrigued.

"I hear you were born in Ionia. It would be useful, having a guide through the dangers of the North Sea. It's dangerous waters".

Your smirk widens.

"Mm, you've heard" you mock almost in a singing voice. "So you've studied me. Not many know I was born there. Ionia is too far away from here for anyone to cross-check".

Hunter's lips curve upwards in a faint smile.

"You're right with that. There are a lot of different and often oposite stories about you".

You hear the rest of the sentence even if he doesn't say it out loud; who knows which ones are true.

You fully turn your body towards him.

"And which one brought you to me?"

You'll say yes. He probably knows that too; you're not one to turn down a good adventure, and it would be a heck of one to be able to work with the Fetts.

You still want to have all the information before you accept.

"I admit all of them were pretty interesting" Hunter says, fingers tapping against the wood of the counter. "But there's only one that makes you unique".

It's involuntary; the way your face adjusts to a new proud and understanding smile.

"You need a diver" the puzzle slowly starts to make sense. "What treassure are you trying to find this time, Captain?"

Hunter's dark chocolate eyes sparkle with interest. He might be a feared pirate; but in his heart he's still a child dreaming of magic and fairytales, like all good pirates are. Like yourself.

"It's going to be a long journey. I need a diver that can hold their breath for at least twenty minutes underwater. There's only one place in the North Sea where I'd need a skill like that".

You find the last missing piece.

"The caves of Ilum" you realize, your own eyes brightening in wonder. "You're trying to find the Moon Kyber cristal".

It was your favorite story growing up; how a group of trained soldiers named "the Jedi" had learnt to canalyse the energy residing in a special mineral and used it to improve their fighting style. They were said to be extinguished –decimated in a great war in the Old Times–, and that the last of their kind had hidden his Moon Kyber cristal somewhere in the cold North Sea, burried in one of the Ilum caves. Pirates and sailors had tried to find it for centuries, desperate to fill their pockets with money or their hands with power; others, for the simple pleasure of owning a piece of history. But the Moon Kyber had never been found; soon forgotten in memories and often brushed aside as tales.

"And you're what, going to send me to explore each posible underwater cave you find?" You ask, wary about the execution of his plan.

He remains calm and unbothered.

"We could try it that way, but it would take us a bit too long for my taste. I've already done my work and I know exactly where to navigate" before you've had the chance to ask, he's already sending you a warning glance. "And I'm obviously not telling you. Can't risk you trying to get it on your own or giving the information to someone else".

You sigh in resignation.

"You want me to make a blind jump. To trust you. That all of this is true and I'm going to be safe in a ship full of men I know nothing about".

He answers with a single, final word.

"Yes".

You hum in thought. You don't. You don't trust him; and you don't trust you'd be safe with the crew of male strangers either. Perhaps he wants you to bring the cristal to him –if it exists– and then he'll get rid of you to enjoy the reward alone. Perhaps this is all a story and he needs you for something else. Who knows, he might even want to hand you to someone else for some sort of revenge. No matter. You'll be alert and you'll come out if this clean.

You make up your resolve and tilt your chin up at him.

"I'm asuming you'll sell the kyber and make a fortune from it" you point out, then state with a firm voice. "I want a third of the price".

Hunter snorts; the first real, uncontrolled reaction you pull from him.

"I have seventy men on board and you want a whole third of the reward. A bit ambitious, don't you think?"

You shrug. Negotiating is part of being a pirate. You know it's too much to ask, but it's just a start.

"Like you said, my skill is unique. We both can't get the Kyber without the other. You know where it is and I'm the only one able to get it. Good luck trying to find someone who can hold their breath for twenty minutes and swim in those freezing waters at the same time".

Hunter tries to make you back down with his stare and his silence; but you don't waver, and you defiantly stare back at him.

The pirate clenches his jaw once.

"Twenty-five percent" he conceeds.

You grin. You don't think this man is the type to soldier through an extense negotiation; and you're not in the mood for that yourself. You might have tried to go for a thirty percent some other time; but you'll consider it as a victory this once.

"Deal" you nod.

The Captain and you shake hands.

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2. Nightmares brought to life

You wake up to the king of your nightmares. You haven't seen Commodoro Palpatine in eight years; but he still manages to evoke the same feeling inside of you. Terror, anger, fear, pain. He's the one that killed your father eleven years ago; the reason why you're covered in scars you haven't allowed anyone to see.

"Hello, my dear" he smiles, a crooked, cold thing. "I was wondering when I'd have the pleasure to meet you again".

His fingers graze your shoulder while he walks around you like a vulpture waiting for the poor hurt animal to exhale his last breath; sending goosebumps through your skin.

You clench your fists; unable to tear yourself from his touch with the tight restraints they've put you in. The last thing you remember was walking outside of the tabern to get some sleep. You don't remember receiving any blow to your head, so it's possible they may have slipped a drug to your drink.

"What do you want from me?" You spit out, trying to hide your fear beneath a layer of ire.

Commodoro Palpatine laughs almost in delight.

"Straight to the point, I see" you hate the way he talks, so falsely sweet. "You've made a deal with a certain Captain lately. I want to make you a deal as well".

At this point in your life, his extense list of spies doesn't surprise you. You haven't seen him in eight years because he hasn't wanted to; not because he couldn't. It's the problem about him; he has everyone under his radar with promises of money, threats, and power.

"What deal?" You ask him directly, skipping the show of you trying to resist to his wishes. Better get this over with.

"You'll go on your little trip with Captain Hunter. You'll get the Moon Kyber for him, and once you return to land, you'll hand it to me".

You scoff, voice coming out in irritated muttering.

"And what makes you think I won't flee with it?"

Palpatine's dark smile could kill death itself.

"There's two things pirates always look for, my dear. Credits... And treasures" he finally shows you the small object that he has been hiding in his hand this whole time, an old pendant you recognise well. It belonged to your father –before he gave it to you in your eight birthday–; Palpatine must have teared it from you the day he tortured you and killed him.

Your body tingles in pain with the memory; your heart clenches. Even for pirates, credits don't have enough value compared to a few handfull of things. Your late father's pendant is one of yours. You need it.

For the second time in the week, you say the word again.

"Deal".

The emotions inside of you are vastly different.

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3. A girl versus a crew of men

The Marauder is everything you have ever imagined it would be. The ship is beautiful; dark wood and scarlet sails, with it's three mastils standing tall and a sharp bow to cut into the sea. The crew is as you expected it to be too; fierce and diligent, paired with a common distrust towards the new recruit -you–. On the first day, Captain Hunter gives them orders to let you be; though it does little to stop the glares and sneers as you move through the ship.

It doesn't matter. They'll get used to your presence; you all have a long trip up to the North Sea.

You can't help but feel excited. It's been a decade since you last stepped in home. You'd escaped Ionia with your father in an attempt to hide from Palpatine; and while Corus is full of dark memories and loneliness, you still keep a fond memory of Ionia. Of long dips in the water and a time when everything felt safe, easier. You know your return won't feel the same –not without your father by your side–; but you still long to see the white coast and it's dark, almost black waters. You've always find that to be a beautiful contrast.

You don't let Hunter out of sight. As weeks pass by, you can't help but make a habit of observing him. You're curious; and you still don't trust him. The wariness starts to dissapear with time; but it's a residue that always stays no matter how hard you scrub.

Hunter is as fierce as the rest of his men. Frown set and jaw tense, he barks orders around no-one dares to give a second glance. The ship advances so fast that you start to think that the way to the North won't take as long as you'd originally thought. It's a well oiled machine; his words are actions inmediately carried by his crew. There's a special kind of relationship between this men; Hunter might be their leader, and there might be a clear hierarchy, but they act so in sync and hold such a deep respect for each other that it's hard to see the lines between their positions. You've never seen pirates move and fight like that. Perhaps that's the reason for their fame and victories; the fact that they know each other so well, the fact that they trust each other to the bone. The fact that they're family. You wonder how it would feel to have so many siblings spread around the world and never feel alone.

To your surprise, you notice your relationship with the Captain shifting as well. With each harsh encounter you face by their side against other pirates, sailors, or the dangers of the sea, he seems to relax a tiny bit more around you, giving you more freedom to move around the ship without his gaze set upon you. The night you help one of his brothers –Echo– with a deep gash on his hand, he even offers you a nod and a slight curve of his lips you catalogue as a smile.

Alcohol has always been sailors favorite method of killing time; and facing the cold and loneliness of the night. Unfortunately, it does more than soothe one's worries away; it gives men courage, which in itself is not a bad thing, but if taken too far rum loosens tongues and problems arise. The night you finally cross the border of Corus's sea into the North one, everyone is happy and excited; bottles of rum being passed around the crew, everyone sprawled lazily in deck. Hours creep in between jokes, stories and laughter; eyes growing glassy and slowly blinking sleep away. As usual, you're sitting alone close to the bowsprit; a position that allows you a perfect vision of the rest of the ship. You're still close enough to hear them –since they're not bothering in whispering anyways–.

"Shut up, di'kut" one man playfully punches another's arm. "You're probably gonna' spend all your credits in a woman when we get back".

Everyone laughs and snickers, and the pirate in question shrugs with a radiant grin.

"You would understand why if you'd had experienced the warmth and pleasure that comes from being buried between a woman's legs. One day, vod" he rises his rum and takes a long gulp from the bottle.

The crowd roars in laughter, and the first man's cheeks light up in an embarassed red.

"Not my fault all the woman we happen to come across are whores, Blades" he mutters, as the chuckles slowly die around them. "I prefer to save my earnings for other things. And to save myself from who-knows-what disease".

The one named Blades smirks and doesn't let him go that easily.

"Well, you have a pretty pirate right there" he points at you with a jerk of his chin. "Why don't you try your luck with that one, mm?"

All eyes turn to you. They roam up and down your figure, considering the pirate's words. Like they've suddenly remembered you're a woman. And you're here, with them. The man Blades is taunting hesitates; but eventually nods tersely, and stands up to make his way towards you.

A shiver spreads through your spine. Though you don't think they'll try anything as a collective –not under Hunter's command– you can read the hunger in their eyes. This men have never been your friends –you're aware of that–, but neither have they acted as enemies. Now, though, you feel surrounded by sharks.

Even if your heart speeds up and emotions clash inside of you, you keep your breathing under control, casting your eyes downwards in order to look distracted and ocupied. You listen to his stumbling footsteps approaching you. Your left hand carefully moves towards your ankle, where you keep a blade cinched to it and covered by the fabric of your boot; waiting for the perfect second to move.

"Hey, gorgeous" he starts his line once he's just a step away from you, towering over your sitting position. "How about you and me go to have some fun below deck?"

"No, thanks" you answer feigning boredom, ears and corners of your vision still trained on him and the rest of the men avidly watching the interaction behind him.

He makes a disaproving sound with his tongue.

"Ah, come on, girl" he keeps trying, growing nervous at the thought of the rest of the crew watching his defeat. "Don't be a prude..."

He goes to grab your shoulder, but you're way faster than him. You swipe his legs of the floor with a quick strong movement of yours; and you're holding the blade to his neck in a blink. He's too stunned to say anything –watching you with wide eyes–; but the rest of the crew inmediately straightens up ready to defend him.

"The answer is no" you insist, voice low and dangerous, finally retracting your weapon and standing up and away. "Now I sugest you return to your place".

He does it without uttering a single word, perhaps still shocked from the surprise. Everyone seems to be. Surprised and wary. Perhaps your reaction has been a little too much; but once again, you're alone in a ship full of strangers –strangers that could turn on you in an unfair fight you'd had almost unexisting chances of winning–, and you need to send a message. You're no-ones plaything. And no one is going to touch you unless you want them to.

You sit back down quietly as well, studying the crowd in case of another altercation. Adrenaline pumps through your veins. There are some insults being spat under their breath and some whispering; but no one picks up another fight. Your eyes eventually find Hunter; who is standing up and watching the situation in front of the Foremast. He's tense –though you're not sure who exactly is he angry with–; and when his eyes bore into yours, your scars itch uncomfortably under your shirt. You tilt your chin up at him.

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4. Warm up

The Marauder is more or less two weeks away from the caves of Ilum. You can't help but feel a sort of peace as you stare into the horizon; an orange sun melting into black waters, setting everything on fire. It's beautiful. The air is already so much colder; though you know it's nothing compared to how freezing the North Sea is.

When the sun is completely extinguished and there's no longer light to guide the Marauder through the rocky coast of Ionia, Hunter gives the order to rest for the night. The crew bunkers down below deck –hiding from the cold– and you use the rare oportunity of being completely alone to take a quiet swim.

It's not that you're enthusiastic about going into the freezing waters at night. But it's been a few years since you did a long dive, and it's a good idea to start gaining a bit of practice. Your body needs to get used to moving in the North Sea again. It's not an easy task.

You carefully lower yourself on one of the boats until you touch the surface of the water. It's so black it acts like a perfect mirror under the moonlight; your eyes staring at your reflection without a clue of what could be hiding underneath. You try the temperature sinking a hand on the sea. Goosebumps inmediately rises on your skin.

Boots on and everything –any layer of clothing helps– you slowly leave the boat and dissapear under the water, teeth inmediately pressing against each other in an effort to cope with the paralising cold. It's almost as if it grips each one of your muscles and locks them in place, trying to drown you.

You get used to it for a few minutes first; then, your hands leave the edge of the boat. You close your eyes and remain floating with the minimum effort; legs gently moving to keep you close to the surface from time to time.

You train in a progression, just like you learnt when you were a kid. You first hold your breath for five minutes; then you do a dip of ten, then fifteen. When you come up for air again, you take another fifteen to rest. Although the water is freezing cold, your wet clothes and the wind makes the return to the sea for one last dive feel almost like a relief.

Twenty minutes gives you a lot of time to think. Your mind does a slow review of this last month in the Marauder; whatever you've happened to learn about members of it's crew, of Hunter. He's closest to other four pirates; Wrecker, Tech, Echo and Crosshair. They seem to be even more in sync than the rest. You notice they're the most different appearance-wise as well; perhaps that's what pushed them together, or maybe they have just known each other the longest.

You also think of Palpatine and your father. It doesn't sit well with you, hiding this second deal to the captain of the Marauder; but you have little choice. Palpatine wouldn't have let you go if you had refused; and you know he'll be waiting for your return. You'll find a way to fool him; but until you do, you'll keep that secret close to your heart. Who knows what would happen to you if Hunter or any of the Fetts discovered it...

Stress evaporates underwater. Your mind eventually empties; you're part of the sea. Time vanishes too.

You wake up from your trance with your lungs burning. You're forced to break the surface of the water; inmediately taking a quick breath of air in. Your head pounds; but you close your eyes and calm your agitated body down, anchoring your elbows to the boat and letting out a tired, panting sigh. Each gulp of air hurts for the first few seconds; until you regulate your breathing again. Exhausted and shivering –you really should get to warmth now–, you use what little strength you have left to pull yourself over into the boat and then lift it up to deck again.

Completely exhausted and curved forward with both of your hands resting against your knees, you don't even notice him until he speaks; his calm voice startling you and making you stand up straight again.

"You could have died and nobody would've even known".

His dark chocolate eyes are set on yours. This time, the surprise brought up by his unexpected presence makes them look innocent and young.

Water dripping onto the deck and clothes stuck to your skin, your answer comes out in a whispered shiver.

"That would have been really tragic" you agree, hugging your own body in a futile attempt to warm yourself up. "You'd never get to see your Kyber".

Hunter's lips and throat moves as if to speak; but then he stays in silence, observing you quietly with that intimidating stare of his. You can usually ignore it, but this time you feel the need to break the tension.

"I was getting myself used to this waters again. It's been eleven years since I was last in Ionia. I have a natural skill for diving and holding my breath, which I've been training since I was a kid, but believe it or not, I still need a bit of aclimatising".

"And you decided to do your first try at night without warning anyone".

You give him a shrug and a guilty smile.

"I can't really practice while the ship is moving, so it had to be at night... And I don't like others watching" it slips out.

Hunter hums. His eyes flicker down towards your collarbone, and you suddenly realise that with your loose shirt sticking to your skin, the very first of your scars is now visible. You inmediately tense and pull it back to place.

He notices it, but makes no comment.

"Your skin is starting to turn blue" he points out. "You should get to warmth".

"Guess I'll have to make myself a spot between your men under deck" you chuckle, trembling. "Steal a bed roll or two".

What Hunter offers doesn't leave your head in the next few days.

"You could take my bed. I can always bunker with Tech" the pause between the two of you is long, perhaps because you're both shocked by his words, and Hunter continues in an effort to downplay his sugestion. "We can't have you falling sick now, with no proper medics on board".

If Hunter's words surprises you, perhaps your answer shocks him as well.

"You could always stay".

There's a million of thoughts and emotions roaming in those dark eyes. For a moment, you think he'll pass; but when you shiver again, his gaze turns soft, warm, and he smiles.

"Let's go inside, then".

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5. Vulnerable

It's unfair. Hunter is, to date, the best sex you've had; and it's difficult not to want a repeat of that night when you see him everyday, and you're both trapped in the same ship in the middle of the sea. Maybe that's why you can't tear your eyes off of him; yes, the fact that he's good like that, and not the lingering doubt that you're starting to like him.

Hunter had treated you like only lovers in books did. He wasn't rough, though he certainly wasn't soft either; it was sensual, passionate, lips moving over bodies and hips joining in endless waves. You had been reduced to moan and whimpers; and you had left him breathless as well. Hunter had been particularly unselfish and considerate, mindful of your comfort and pleasure; and in a world of pirates and dangerous men, it had shocked you to your very bone. It was a bit scary, in fact; how it felt like he was undressing your every layer and pulling them apart even when you had remained hidden in most of your clothes all the time.

The tension between the two of you builds and builds while days pass; until you can't longer keep it locked inside.

You knock on his private room at night; and when he opens with an irritated expresion that quickly morphs into hunger and surprise, you all but jump him. You bite down onto his lower lip, ravenous, and he groans into your mouth; hands caressing your back before taking a firm hold on your hips and pushing you back.

"What?" You ask him, panting, face tilted up towards him.

Hunter's dark eyes scan you. Studies you; almost as if he doesn't quite understand.

You can't help yourself. You want him too bad; you're on fire, impatient, and you kiss him again when he stays in silence. He seems to forget whatever he was going to say; because he let's you push him backwards into his room, and tugs you to bed. His eyes close while you caress and kiss his body, taking his clothes off; and he only seems to come back to his right mind when you're seconds away of sinking onto his cock.

"Wait" he asks, fingertips digging into your hips while you take position over his hips.

He breathes heavily under your confused gaze; a hesitant expresion on his face. It's like he wants to tell or ask you something; but he's afraid.

You search his eyes; the hunger and eagerness, mixed with the confusion and wariness, and you suddenly understand.

"You think this is some sort of plan. A way of using you".

Hunter sighs, relieved he doesn't have to voice his worries out loud, and you answer with a dry laugh.

"And what is that plan, Hunter? Seduce my way into your heart and flee with the cristal?"

The silent is painful. It hurts; though you understand his waryness. You'd probably have thought the same had he looked for you again. The thought has crossed your mind; that doing this is dangerous, that it could complicate things. But you don't care; you're used to running the long way.

"Perhaps I'm using you" you taunt, and his eyes darken in a warning until you elaborate with a fervor you rarely let anyone see. "But to feel something other than anger, loneliness, ambition. There's no ulterior reason why I want to have sex with you. You don't trust me. And I understand. But you can".

You wait; eyes open and eager. Honest. You don't exactly know how this trip is going to end; but you've got no intentions of hurting him, and you'll try to avoid it as much as possible.

You just want to enjoy his body and affection now; feel that exhilarating pleasure again. Leave your head for a little while.

"I can try" he finally answers, taking a deep breath. His fingers take hold on the edge of your shirt. "I want to see you this time".

You tense; it's an involuntary reaction. Hunter gently caresses your hip with one hand, patiently waiting for an answer. You can read his words in his warm eyes; "You can trust me too".

Your voice is so low and meek he has trouble hearing you.

"I've never shown them to anyone" you whisper, biting onto your lip uncomfortably.

Hunter squeezes softly. He stays quiet; letting you decide.

It's dangerous. You already see him differently than anyone else; sharing this vulnerability with him is a big step. And like him, you have trouble trusting; you don't want to get hurt.

You look at him, sprawled under you, long hair tangled in a mess and warm brown eyes staring straight at you. Gentle hands, beautiful skin. Vulnerable. Patient.

Your trembling fingers pull off your shirt; leaving you exposed to him. You tightly shut your eyes and remain inmovile on top of him; Hunter breathes out and slowly reaches a hand towards your skin.

"Who?" He asks, because it's obvious this scars haven't been made by accidents, but inflicted by someone.

You shiver.

"Palpatine".

You don't have to specify. Even if he's from Ionia, like yourself, his power and cruelty extends everywhere.

"When your father died?" He quietly questions, cautious not to push you away.

You remember he had studied you before all of this.

You give him a sad smile.

"Yeah. I foolishly wandered alone once, when we were on the run, and he captured me first. He used to play this sick game with him... Where he would cut me open and leave a trail of my blood around, for my father to search and follow like a dog. It wasn't enough to just kill him. Palpatine is a monster, and he and my father were the oldest of enemies".

And then, a confession burried deep in your soul, because you're too fierce of a pirate to be scared of anything, and more so of just one man.

"He terrifies me" you whisper.

Hunter's hands take hold of your innocent face.

"He isn't here" he soothes you, tenderly. "You're safe with me".

He kisses you, and you swallow every worry down. The "he's closer than you think", and "he'll be waiting". They're your burdens to carry; your curse. Your secret.

For now, you let Hunter kiss you and guide you onto his cock; and you surrender to pleasure and oblivion.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

6. Ilum

A whole month of nights in Hunter's bed and the heartfelt conversations afterwards, the Marauder stops in a big formation of rocks in the region of Ilum. Hunter explains to you everything he knows about this place; and then it's your turn to play.

Every single man of the crew is waiting in deck, staring at you while you're lowered on one of the boats and take a few minutes to calm down and prepare yourself.

The moment is inevitable; and you jump headfirst into the water, ignoring the biting cold and calmly starting to swim towards the rocks. You stay close to surface at first. Once your hand comes into contact with the first of the caves, you anchor yourself to the rock as best as you can and take a deep breath.

"Here goes the first dive" you think to yourself, and you start to swim straightly downwards into the depths of the sea.

The first ten minutes feel easy after this last two months of training. You try to find some sort of entrance between the rocks; but to no avail, and once your lungs start to burn, you start your way up to surface again.

Panting heavily, you make a negative sign with your finger to Hunter, who is watching among the crew from the ship, spyglass in hand; and take ten minutes to calm yourself down again.

You nod and open your eyes; swimming to the next rock and signaling you're going down again. Ten minutes of swimming downward goes; the water getting colder and the pressure on your ears bigger. It borders on painful; but you push that to a second plane and focus on your research. Your eyes follow a group of tiny yellow fishes moving towards a gap in the underside of the rock; and you wonder if the treasure could be hiding in the other side. It's wide enough that you could carefully swim through it.

There's only one way to find out.

Resolved and confident, you start swimming forward, following the trail of fishes in what you now identify as an underwater tunel. It get's progressively darker the more you advance; and your lungs start to burn, making you worry about wether if you should start your way back or continue with the dive. But then the colour of the water slightly changes; dark blue instead of black, and then ligther in what has to be... light.

You swim faster, and faster, and faster; and then, you're suddenly taking a deep, rushed breath in in what you can now identify as a cave. You've never seen anything this beautiful. Thin rays of sunglight enter through tiny spots left between the rocks; partially iluminating the cave in a faint glow. There isn't just one cristal in here; but dozens of them, all different colours and shapes, stuck all over the rocks in both the cealing and walls. They shine and sparkle. This cave really feels magical. You get lost for some minutes staring at your finding; until your eyes fall in some mineral you've never seen before.

You swim closer, one hand clinging to the rocky wall to support part of your weight; studying the sparkling cristals curiously. It's a mix between grey and blue, and the size of a finger; they look like some sort of gemstone. You know this probably isn't what you're looking for; but it doesn't mean it's not special.

You continue searching; but you're unable to find the Moon Kyber. You sigh, tired, and close your eyes. You think of the stories; the supposed origin of this cristal. The Jedi. Kybers were thought to be almost alive; the Jedi believed some could be even heard as music. That the Kybers called them; had a natural affinity with some. You're no Jedi, and you don't really quite believe all of it; but perhaps there's some truth to what you nowadays know of history.

You take a deep breath in and remain with your eyes closed; focusing on the rest of your senses. The small movement of the currents against the rocky walls; the tiny fishes swimming around. Your presence, alive and warm; picture all the other gems around you. You stay like this for a few minutes, almost in a trance; until something shines over your closed eyelids, and even before opening your eyes, you already know what you're goint to find.

It's an amber colour, much smaller than what you had imagined, and shines like there's a tiny sun, liberating energy, trapped inside the cristal's walls. Even if you're not touching it, it feels warm; in ways you can't understand. You carefully close your fingertips around it; and the cristal almost comes off of the rocky wall inmediately, like it wants to go with you. A sincere smile forms on your face.

Your eyes travel back towards the other unidentified mineral you'd found in the cave. Your mind starts to connect the dots; an idea taking shape in your head. You take two pieces of the blue-grey mineral as well; and the kyber goes into your boot while one of the blue cristals sits on top of your tongue.

Shooting one last lingering glance towards the cave, you take a deep breath; and initiate the way back.

When your head pops out of the surface of the water after almost an hour of exploration, cheers and shouts sound from the men on The Marauder. You get back onto the boat; and they pull you back onto the deck. Your breathing is shattered, exhausted, and you smile tiredly at Hunter when he inmediately steps towards you.

"Did you find it?" he asks, eyes shinning, hands coming to rest onto your shoulders affectionately.

You make a chuckling noise with your throat and open your mouth, spitting the blue cristal into the palm of your hand. Around you, there's a chorus of disgusted groans and excited whispering.

"Yeah" you laugh, pinching the beautiful shinning cristal between your fingertips. "I got it alright".

Hunter's rare smile is just as radiant as the real Kyber; which remains hidden inside of your boot when you both join each other in bed hours later.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

7. Breaking hearts

While for everyone the journey from Ionia back to Corus is one of pure hapiness and bliss, you can't help but feel melancholic; like all things are coming to an end. It's not that you'll miss The Marauder dearly; but coming to port means a possible end to your's and Hunter's relationship, and that... That you'll miss.

You catch yourself glancing up at him all the time. He notices it, and you mask it under a small smile or a teasing wink; but inside, your heart squeezes painfully. For your idea to succeed, you're going to have to betray him first. Well, you won't be really betraying him; but he'll believe so. And he has to believe it. For this to work, Palpatine has to see the hurt and pain in Hunter's eyes; the surprise and rawness of his anger and the rest of his men. It's the reason why you can't warn him. The time to soothe him will come; but first, you have to push him through despair.

You wonder if he loves you as you've come to love him. Yes, you do. It's a hard truth to accept; but it's the truth. Somewhere between liking him and growing fond of him, somewhere between melting at his rare smiles and sharing nights of pleasure and passion and the quiet conversations afterwards, the pirate had stolen another treasure, fiercely protected under numerous walls; your heart.

Sometimes you're sure he does. It's the way he looks at you; or how he grazes your hand and back. The way he shoots a glance at anyone else when he hears them speaking ill of you or how he turns protective. Even his close brothers often tease him about it. Others, his feelings seem to be burried between his own layers of distrust and nochalance; when he can't bear to show such vulnerability any longer. In those times you try to disarm him with one kiss after another one. Sometimes you suceed, and sometimes you don't; and he'll twist out of your arms to take you from behind. To escape the power of your eyes; eyes that will force him to blurt all worries and desires he isn't ready to share yet. There's still a long way for your's and Hunter's interactions to grow; but you have plenty of patience for a man like him.

The Marauder docks quietly but swiftly; it's crew happy to touch land again no matter how much they've enjoyed their adventure at the sea. Everyone rushes to enjoy their free time; The Marauder will only stock up for the night before moving elsewhere. Hunter offers you his hand in a mocking chivalrious gesture; and you accept his help laughing, entwining your fingers with him afterwards and tugging him along. Hunter chuckles quietly and follows.

"Where are we going?" he asks, lightness in his voice.

You turn to grin up at him.

"Isn't it obvious? I think we deserve something other than rum to celebrate".

Hunter smiles wider, his eyes taking that quiet warmth and softness he sometimes show when looking at you. You squeeze his hand affectionately too.

One whiskey gives way to another one; and soon you're lost again in Hunter's chocolate eyes, in how handsome he looks, how much you like him. Love him.

"Please, forgive me" you beg him in your head, memorising his features. "Please, please, please".

Palpatine irrupts in the bar three hours after you had arrived -perhaps waiting for Hunter to be inebriated, perhaps making sure none of his men would be close to help him-; followed by a flock of the Red Guard soldiers. He likes to do an entrance; and as expected, time seems to freeze with his appearance, frightened eyes and shocked expresions directed at him. Palpatine's own cold eyes inmediately find you; and Hunter -Oh, Hunter- inmediately stands up to put himself between the two of you.

You can see his tense shoulders and his jaw clench; while Palpatine looks relaxed while he shortens the distance between you.

"How lovely" his voice is that of a snake, acompanied by a cruel, dark smile. "Don't tell me you've stolen his heart too, my dear. Absolutely brilliant".

Hunter stays in place; but his eyes flicker from him to you in a mix of confusion and hope. He knows how Palpatine's words sound; he just can't believe you've done it, the thing he was afraid of from the beginning. Grow close to him only to betray him in the end. Use him.

Though surprised, Palpatine doesn't seem to be at all interested in whatever is happening between the pirate and you. He extends his hand; tone laced with sudden boredom.

"Now dear... Please, the Kyber" he asks.

This time Hunter does turn around to look at you. He looks as you push your hand into your pocket; and come up with a grey cristal. You hand it to the Commodoro.

"My fathers pendant" you demand, voice sharp and serious.

Hunter's eyes find yours; almost like he's asking if that has been the price.

Palpatine laughs.

"When you've given me the real one, dear" he points out. You knew he would.

You shoot him an irritated glance; nodding quietly and taking the blue cristal out from your breast band. Palpatine arches a brow; and examines the gemstone. It's nothing he has seen before; it shines even with no light inflection, a bright, glowing blue. Pure. It looks like it holds the sea itself. Or perhaps the moon.

Hunter makes a move to grab it; but two Corries inmediately hold him in place, Palpatine tutting condescendingly.

"Ah, ah. I believe the Moon Kyber is now mine, Captain Hunter. You should take more care of who you trust for the next time".

You can't look at him. Can't watch Hunter's face and the pain and hurt reflected on it. Everything in you is screaming to comfort him; to take his hand, to caress his hair like you do at night. You can't.

Palpatine offers you his part of the deal; and you quickly take your father's pendant of his hands, tying it up around your neck. Keeping it safe.

The man of your nightmare smiles.

"Well, it was nice to oficially meet you, Captain. I'm sure we'll see each other again" the Commodoro says, briefly nodding at him in farewell before turning towards you and gesturing to the door of the tabern in invitation. "Shall we leave now, my dear?"

You feel Hunter watching you. You want to take one last look at him before following Palpatine; but you'll break. You can't.

You take a deep breath in and walk outside the bar.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

8. A new start

A month later -one of the hardest of your life, after the loss of your father- you hear news about The Marauder docking in Kamino's port. You've been keeping an eye on Hunter in the distance; cautiously asking around and following him around the South just one carefull step behind. You'd like to have contacted him sooner; but it was too risky, considering Palpatine had yet to sell his blue cristal and he'd probably keep an eye on you as well until he had those credits in his hands. Now, though, now... Palpatine is a million credits richer; and you are free to explore the world again. Free to find him.

You know things wouldn't end well if you'd directly confronted him. He probably hates you right now; has tried to burry your memory in a pit of anger and hurt. And you understand. He might probably still resent you even after you've explained yourself; but you have to at least try.

You miss him. So much...

You send a messenger instead. It's a ten year old boy who doesn't even know who you are or who Hunter is; who doesn't know the content of the small bag he's been paid to deliver. It's safer this way.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

9. A surprise from the past

Hunter makes a silent gesture to Wrecker, and his brother let's the child pass. Wrecker -and all of his crew, really- has been particularly protective lately. Although he was just as furious and dissapointed as the rest by what had happened, his brother's love for their family would always be bigger; and thankfully, Hunter hand't had to give much of an explanation to his crew other than that the pirate girl had deceived him with the cristal. Fled.

The kid is awfully persistent, though, and he's just a kid; so Hunter receives him with a gentle but tired expression on his face. It's been weeks since he had been able to shut en eye for more than three or four hours at a time.

"I've been paid to hand this personally to you, sir" the young boy says, handing him a letter first.

Hunter guesses he has recognised him by the long hair and the bandana; or the half-tattooed face. The kid waits patiently while he opens the letter.

Hunter's mind blanks while he reads the six words scribbled on it.

"Told you; you can trust me".

No signature, no name; but he knows very well who the writer is. A girl he hasn't been able to take out of his head; one he hates and loves at the same time. Misses.

Hunter can't do anything else than to stare at the kid. The young boy nods to himself, and then hands him a small bag, almost shoving it in Hunter's hands.

"Miss will be in the last tabern of the harbour until twelve" he waits to make sure his message has been listened, and then nods again. "Good night".

The boy quickly dissapears, and Hunter is left staring at the small bag in his hands. It's very light; but somehow, Hunter knows there's something inside. He can... Feel it. It's some sort of moving energy. Alive.

He takes a deep breath; preparing himself for what he could be about to find. For possible disappointments.

He slowly opens the bag.

The cristal shines almost like it is trapping the sun inside. It's the prettiest object Hunter has ever seen before; a rich amber colour mixed with orange and gold. The different tones swirl and mix inside of the cristal's walls; it... Pumps, like a heartbeat. Calm and consistent. Warm.

A tearful smile forms on Hunter's lips. This is the Moon Kyber cristal; it's real, it exists. And it's there, right in his hands. Which therefore means she hadn't really betrayed him; just carefully played her cards. She wanted her father's pendant. It hold great sentimental value to her; even if it had hurt, he'd understand. Commodoro Palpatine had probably forced her to get the Kyber for himself; and she had been left trapped between two men that wanted her skills.

Hunter thinks of how scared she must have felt. She had explained to him the story behind her scars; carved deep all around her torso when she was nothing but a young girl. A decade later, she had still shivered and trembled when Hunter touched them; when he had tried to soothe the pain away with his hands, his lips, and his tongue. She had almost cried that first time; holding her tears if only by pure stubborness. Hunter thinks on how much stress she must have gone through; knowing what fate awaited her. He smiles realising how smart she has been; taking not just one, but two fake cristals with her from the cave as well as the real one. She'd known Palpatine would believe her to be hiding the Moon Kyber; tried to trick him. So she'd fooled them all; Hunter included, because -now he realised- she needed Palpatine to see his hurt and dispair for all of it to become real. And she had done it all in silence. And won.

Maker, he loved her. She could have kept the real Kyber to herself; and yet, she had handed it to him, maybe because... Because she loved him as well.

Hunter leaves the real kyber in Tech's capable hands and walks to the tabern; the last one in Kamino's harbour, where she awaits.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

10. Déjà vu

You're on your second whiskey when you hear the footsteps; a hand coming to rest on your back. You know who it belongs to without even looking at him; the size of it, the splayed fingers -trying to touch as much of you as he can-, the gentle presure, the emotions that somehow seeps from it.

Hunter's voice is warm and slightly raspy; your favorite combination.

"You're hard to find".

Love and happiness burst inside of you. You know what his presence here means; what that sentence means. He has forgiven you; or at least, he's willing to try.

You turn around and study him. He's... You melt under his watch. You never thought this would happen; that you'd fall in love with another pirate.

You shoot him a soft, but playfull smile.

"Perhaps you're just bad at searching".

He smiles and hums.

The End.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG! MAKE ME FEEL MOTIVATED TO KEEP WRITING :)

You can check the other AU oneshots for the 100celeb here:

And a lot of other fanfics from your favorite clones here:

[minnierevercez]

New Chapter !

Here it is ! Chapter 10 of my Hunter x OFC fanfic, Patch Me Up, is now available here on AO3 ! It's been a hot minute since the last one but I'm glad I can post it now and so thankful for your patience ! Only one chapter to go 0.0

Here's a sneak peak :)

Patch Me Up

Hunter x OFC

Current word count : 55,943

Warning for triggering themes in this chapter : mention of death.

He barely had time to register the sound of Crosshair's speederbike approaching before it collided with his own in a clatter of metal against metal. Hunter struggled to keep his balance on the vehicle while putting distance between him and his brother ; but Crosshair came at him again, making the old durasteel rattle and clank in a flurry of sparks. Hunter picked up the speed, flattening himself further on the machine, and chanced a glance behind him ; his eyes widened as he saw Crosshair steady himself on the bike, and slowly pull out his sniper blaster, aiming not for Hunter, but for his speederbike. He managed to dodge the first shot, then the second ; a third brushed past the engines, and the vehicle wobbled for an agonising second ; the one second Crosshair needed to score his hit.

The impact sent his speederbike spinning and skidding on the snow, and Hunter was thrown in the air, the breath knocked out of him. His landing was by no means softened by the powdery layers, which weren't that deep ; the hard, rocky ground pounded his bones as he bounced and rolled, upsetting the white expanse.

He got up with difficulty, but already Crosshair was on him, and the punch to his helmet threw him back down. He struggled against the weight that pinned him there ; any other enemy, he could have fended off, but Crosshair had grown up with him. He knew everything about his mutation, about the scars and old wounds engraved in his flesh, and most importantly, about the exact points to hit so he would stay down. Hunter barely resisted crying out as fire exploded in his ankle and in his left side under his brother's blows, and he found himself unable to move, winded by the excruciating pain running through his body as Crosshair slid Hunter's helmet off his face before taking off his own with jerking movements ; nor as he took hold of Hunter's vibroblade and put it to his throat, the point barely a hair away from piercing skin.

Hunter struggled to focus through bleary eyes ; but for all the pain he was in, the look on his brother's face hurt so much deeper than his punches : anger, fear, hurt, resentment, so many emotions fighting for dominance in his brown eyes, twisting the familiar features into a desperate grimace ; but no determination. He was lost.

“Why are you here ?” Crosshair demanded, his voice a strangled hiss, and Hunter hadn't realised how much he'd missed everything about his brother until he heard it.

“The clones”, he replied breathlessly ; the pressure Crosshair was applying on his ribcage would soon become problematic, but even though the pain was slowly subsiding, Hunter had taken a fair beating, and he knew he wouldn't be fast enough to shake his brother off him before the knife went through his throat.

“Go. Away”, Crosshair spat between his teeth, pressing down on Hunter the slightest bit more. He could feel his head start spinning.

“Can't let them get dissected”, he wheezed. He tested his ankle gingerly, and winced with the renewed pain – but at least it wasn't broken. He could work with that.

“And I can't give you any more chances !” Crosshair hissed, anger winning the battle on his face for a split-second.

“I can”, Hunter murmured. His brother finally choosing to leave the Empire was about his only chance to get out of this alive ; and even if he'd been in a position to fend him off, he knew in that moment that no matter how many times Crosshair pushed them away, he'd keep trying every chance he'd get. “Come back with us. The Empire isn't your people.”

Crosshair's face twisted further in silent agony, and Hunter's chest ached with something that had nothing to do with the weight pressing down on him.

“Don't make me kill you.” The words were quiet, both a threat and a plea. Hunter was running out of air, but he talked anyway.

“I'm not. It's your choice to make, Cross.”

[wild-karrde]

Hi Karrd!

Glad to see you back! Here is the link to Chapter 2 of my "Vagabonds" series with Sergeant Hunter x OC/FemReader. This chapter is VERY SPICEY!!! https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/728315714878980096/background-hunter-and-mad-bond-make-love-and?source=share

Thanks again for doing this!

Glad to be back, friendo! And HELL YES SELF-REC TIME! We are ALWAYS down for spice round these parts, and your description is absolutely intriguing me (and making me giggle):

Hunter and Mad bond, make love, and break shit. 

You know what? AS THEY SHOULD. Thanks so much for sending this in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[lovelessdagger]

The Fall of the Jedi | Chapter Eight: Cin Vhetin

Pairing: Hunter x OFC

Rating: Mature

Summary: Hunter can’t get it out of his head, the undeniable facts of their situation. The Republic, the one thing every clone stood for, now washed away in favor of this new Empire. The Regs, having never been particularly personable, have somehow become more cold than before. Governor Tarkin, an avid objector to clones, dared to send his squad to kill innocent civilians. The Jedi… are gone.

Slow Burn, Canon Divergence

WARNINGS: Explicit Language. TBB S1E1. Canon Typical Violence. Allusion to Torture.

Words: 7K

Masterlist | Daybreak Masterlist | AO3 | Prev | Next

Hunter can’t get it out of his head, the undeniable facts of their situation. The Republic, the one thing every clone stood for, now washed away in favor of this new Empire. The Regs, having never been particularly personable, have somehow become more cold than before.  Governor Tarkin, an avid objector to clones, dared to send his squad to kill innocent civilians. The Jedi… are gone.

Just like that.

In four words and less than thirty minutes, the Jedi disappear. The oldest and strongest institution ever known, wiped, branded traitors, summarily executed.  Every single one of them.

Well, Hunter thinks. Not all.

Not yet. The kid, Commander Dume, he made it out. Though Kaller is no haven. If the clones didn’t kill him, the elements might. Either way, he’s just a kid. What does he know about survival? What shot does he have when he’s alone?

If he can’t make it, what does that say about them?

Hunter’s leg bounces inside the Marauder, gloved hands wiping on thighs. “How much longer til Kamino?” he asks, standing.

“Our projected time of arrival is eighteen minutes,” Tech says. He looks over his shoulder. “Your anxiety will not cause the ship to go any faster. Given Omega’s status as a medical assistant, it is unlikely she is under any real threat. Although, the odds are not zero.”

Hunter scoffs. “Thanks.”

She’s the final piece of it, the ruckus of his mind. She’s the biggest really. Undeniably. It was bad enough before, her weird and incessant following of the group. Sitting with them in the Mess Hall, caring over Echo in the infirmary, searching Hunter out personally. She actively warned them of what Tarkin had planned, what trouble this… Empire would cause. Leave Kamino, don’t come back.

Let me come with you.

He should’ve listened the first time. They could be long gone from Kamino already, not headed towards it. A log transmissions onto the Maraduer from the now Imperial database shared with Kamino. The only one clones have access to. A running list of every known Jedi of the Republic and their status of termination. Working with Jedi was a rare occurrence, the amount closer to zero than anything substantial. Scrolling through, Hunter ticked off what he could recognize.

Shaak Ti.

Depa Billaba.

Caleb Dume.

Anakin Skywalker.

He closes the log each time Crosshair walks by, before he can comment on his search for a fifth name. Before he can tell him there’s no point. Laugh at him. Tell him what he already knows.

Echo behaves the same, though he takes the list in a more personal manner. It’s easy to tell when something strikes particularly hard. He gets more reserved, closing the log and leaving for some odd minutes before coming back.

For a moment, Hunter considers asking.

Ultimately, he decides against.

“Assuming she is there,” Tech asks. “How do you propose we find Omega?”

“Tipoca City’s a big place,” Hunter responds. “But there’s only so many locations she can be. We split up. You and Wrecker take the lower levels and comm areas. Echo, you and I will check barracks. Crosshair—“

“Pass.” He sits in the corner, pretending to sleep but tapping fingers give away the facade. “I’m not interested in putting this squad at risk for some kid.”

“She’s one of us whether you like it or not. We’re not leaving until she’s on this ship. Echo, you take Cross for the barracks. I’ll get into the labs. If any of us find her, we comm and head directly back.”

“What are we doing after?” Wrecker asks.

“I haven’t gotten that far,” Hunter admits. Crosshair scoffs. “Right now, all we need to worry about is making it back and off world in one piece. It’s a big galaxy, plenty of places to camp out. We wait for things to calm down before moving on.”

“Ten minutes until hyperspace exit,” Tech announces. “Reports indicate class three storms, the landing may be bumpy.”

Echo approaches, nudging his back. “Hunter,” he mutters. He nods towards the end of the ship, leading the way. “Something’s wrong.”

“Really?” He snorts. “You don’t say.”

“I mean with Crosshair,” Echo whispers. “He isn’t acting like himself.”

Hunter looks over. “Yeah… I noticed.”

“What Tech said earlier, about the programming.”

“Crosshair’s fine. A lot has happened, he’s easy to stress out. Doesn’t like change. That’s all.”

“I don’t like it.”

“He’ll be fine. Better when we finally leave this place.”

“You all really don’t like Kamino.”

“Hard to like somewhere you don’t belong.”

“Five minutes,” Tech announces.

“Grab a seat,” Hunter says. “We’ll be in and out. Then everything will be back to normal.”

Maz Kanata likes to keep her ship cold, that much Odella is certain of. It may be all she is certain of. She hasn’t moved from her three square foot box since boarding, confining herself to the floor, knees to chest. Maz has been generous, ignoring her for the most part. Until now that is. 

“You didn’t strike me as a caf girl, so I made tea,” she says, holding out a mug. “Drink, it will boost your energy.”

Odella mouths, Thank you, taking it.

“We’ll be landing soon.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

“Are you normally this vague?”

She admits, “No.”

“Then why am I so lucky?”

“You hold yourself back,” Maz says. “Were I to tell you, you’d refuse. Regardless of it being for your benefit.”

It takes everything in Odella to not roll her eyes. Even then she fails. “If you won’t tell me, can you at least explain what you were doing on Naboo?”

“The Force sent me.”

Odella scoffs. “I’m not a child. You can say you were stealing.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“That the Force sent you to Naboo on its biggest day of surveillance and occupation since the battle with the Trade Federation? You’re right, that’s definitely believable. My mistake.”

“You have quite the mouth on you,” Maz chuckles. “I would have never guessed. You come off so shy.”

“I don’t know you. You refuse to tell me where we’re going. And, I don’t know you,” Odella says. “Excuse me for not being chipper. There’s no reason the Force would send you to Naboo.”

“It sent you.”

“Master Yoda sent me. There’s a difference.”

“Did the Force not compel him?”

“No,” Odella says bluntly. “Unless you call Obi-Wan Kenobi the Force. Which I certainly wouldn’t.”

Maz hums. She nods, slow. “If you must know. I feel treasures call to me through the Force. Now, I happened to be called to Naboo.”

“For treasures?”

Maz nods.

“What did you collect?”

“You.”

“Stars,” Odella mutters. “So what, you’re going to hold me for ransom? Get payment that way?”

“Of course not. Girl like you would make a far greater profit working in my establishment.”

“Is that where we’re going?”

“No. Unless…” Maz leans in, squinting. “What is your talent? Artistically.”

“I don’t—“

“You are a Thoren. Art runs in your blood the same as those midichlorians. Do not lie.” 

Odella sighs. “I’ve been told I can sing.”

Maz enters some deep internal debate Odella has no interest in deciphering, humming. “No,” she settles. “Best not.”

As if Yoda weren’t confusing enough.

“So…” Odella drags. “The Force calls you to Naboo. You find me. That hardly feels worthwhile.”

“You my dear, are the famed Thoren daughter. You must recognize your value is beyond words.”

“My value?” Odella repeats, dumbfounded. “How can I have any value in that family? All my siblings despise my existence, my mother’s gone mad with legacy, and my father hates what he has created. I may be a Thoren but I claim no fame from it. Cain is right. It’s all cursed.”

“I don’t believe that. I’ve known the Thorens a long time now. Your late grandmother Novalise was a great friend, as was her mother Evangeline, and her mother Amara. The only curse Paloma brought to that house were the trails of her abuse. You should not blame her for it.”

“Then I blame myself,” Odella concedes. “I should have never been born. They should have been satisfied with the children they had, not risk my mothers life. For what? A Jedi?” Odella waves her hands out. Her words grow rage the longer she continues. “Look how that’s gone. I am on a ship with a pirate I do not know and the Jedi are dead. The only thing I have ever known is dead. Yet somehow I am left to survive when I never asked for any of it to begin with. I only did this because everyone told me to. It’s what they asked of me. I never wanted to be a Jedi.” She catches herself too late. Hunched over, the steam hits her face. She sits frozen without breath. 

Maz holds her shoulder, Odella pushes it off.  “Oh… my child,” she whispers.

Shaking her head, Odella sets down the mug. “I should’ve left when my Master died,” she says. “I could’ve avoided the war all together. Actually done something with myself, helped people. Really helped people. People who care about each other. Who aren’t afraid of compassion and emotion and community. I should’ve gone to something far away from the Jedi.”

“The galaxy is quite large, grander than any thing could wish to see in one lifetime,” Maz tells her. “You are young. There is still time for you to become whoever you are meant to be. You are unrestricted. In the face of this tragedy, you are free.”

Maz announces their arrival fifteen odd minutes later. The ship slowly enters atmosphere and lands with a final thud on the ground. Odella stands only when she is told. Maz takes her by the bend in her arm, leading her out.

The air is cool, fresh, free from the growing pollution of Coruscant. Dried grass breaks under footstep, harvested crop cut on weakened soil.

“Perhaps I stay with you,” Odella says. Her free arm blocks her eyes from the sun, squinting away. “I wouldn’t mind being a performer.”

She would.

They both know this.

“The nearest town is a ten kilometer walk east,” Maz says, pointing to the sun. “I recommend you stray from the Protectors until you gain your bearings. The last thing you need is to be taken for interrogation.”

“Interrogation?”

Maz waves her hand. “The likelihood is low. Though not zero…” she trails. “Never mind it. You will be fine.”

“You said you’d take me somewhere safe,” Odella argues.

“Wrong. I said I would take you where you need to go. I promised your friend safety, but you are not her.”

Odella swears under her breath. Damn pirates. She lifts the hood of her cloak. “I suppose I’ll be off now. Thanks for the ride.”

“Not so fast.” Maz raises her hand, making a beckoning motion.

“Right,” Odella sighs. Payment. She reaches for the bag of credits dangling on her hip. “I’m not sure how much I have but… how’s two hundred?”

“No.” Maz reaches under her cloak, tapping the metal sabers hanging from her other side. “These.”

Odella frowns. “What? No, no I can’t—“

“They will do you no good here. Besides, they are a Jedi’s weapon, are they not?”

“Yes but—“

“You will find your way through new means. Accept change. Embrace it.”

Odella kneels, closing her eyes. “They mean an awful lot to me.” She unhooks them from her belt, thumb brushing over ignition.

“You have your crystals, do you not?” 

“I do.”

Maz takes the hilts, rolling them in her palms. “Then they’re never truly gone, are they?” They connect to her trousers, free hand cupping Odella’s cheek. “When it is safe, should that time ever come, they will find their way to you again.”

“You’ll keep them well in the mean time?”

“I give you my word.”

Odella nods, saying nothing more.

“Go now,” Maz ushers. “This is your new beginning.”

ALDAMI’S DINER

OPEN

Odella wipes her forehead, open palms stretching her lower back. It couldn’t have killed Maz to drop her anywhere closer? She shakes out her muscle, craning her neck from side to side. She looks around the outside, buildings sparse, streets moderately empty. It is a welcomed change of scenery however, dying crops become an eyesore past the first hour. Nauseating by the second. 

Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to gain a clue of where she’d been put. The light chill of wind stayed consistent, pointing to a change into winter season or late fall. Outer Rim most likely considering the lack of city life, speeders. Agricultural settlement, obviously.

The diner is the first thing to greet her, a faded and chipped blue painted wooden exterior. Exhaust from the chimney fills the street and her senses, stomach growling. She weighs the options: keep hiking until she lucks out and collapses, or… the choice isn’t hard.

Stepping into the establishment, a bell rings above her head. It smells divine. Odella almost drools. 

“Hi doll, welcome in,” an older woman calls. Mid-forties, jet black hair pinned on her head, pieces framing her round face. “Go head and take a seat where ever ya can, we’ll get someone to you in a bit.”

Either she came in right before or after the morning rush, a dwindling occupancy keeping only half the diner busy. Odella makes her way to a corner booth, faced away from the crowd. An effort of vain, no one pays her any mind. Her gloves slip off onto her lap, fingertips dancing on the table’s counter.

Nothing notable comes through her visions. Various families, children, dishes.

Thank the Maker.

“Name’s Sela. Can I get you started with some caf?” The woman from before, stood in front notepad in hand.

Odella keeps her gaze locked, shaking her cloaked head. Her throat clears. “Do you have tea?”

“Iced tea.”

“I’ll take it,” she says. “Sweetened. Please.”

The woman snorts. “Like there’s any other way.” The booklet snaps close. “I’ll get that out to ya. Take your time with the menu, it ain’t changing anytime soon.”

“Thanks.”

Left alone, Odella rubs over her face. She flips over the menu, foot bouncing. Tiingilar, uj’alayi, bone broth… something is recognizable at least.  ALDAMI’S DINER stays printed at the top, faded, stained. No address, no contact information.

She’s in the middle of no where.

Perfect.

Sela returns with her glass, ice cubes floating atop. “Pick something out yet?”

“Uh,” Odella stutters. “What do you recommend?”

“Al’s good for pretty much all of it,” she says. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Protein,” she decides. “High carbs. I could eat a bantha.”

“Can’t say we got those layin about,” Sela laughs. She takes the menu, tucking it under her arm. “But I’ll see what he can do.”

“Thank you,” Odella breathes. She looks up, lowering the hood. “Honestly, anything is fine. I shouldn’t be staying long.”

“You ain’t from these parts, are you?”

Bashful, Odella asks, “Am I that obvious?”

“Just about. Accent gave it away. Mid Rim?”

“Naboo.”

“Naboo,” Sela repeats, tongue clicked to the roof. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Good question. Wish I had an answer. Just… had to get away from home. I guess.”

“Well, you couldn’t have picked a farther place to do it.” She taps at Odella’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we ain’t a stranger to strays.”

“Do refugees frequent here?”

She laughs. “Maybe less noble than that. Just people lookin to get away. They never stay long.”

“Why’s that?”

The front bell rings again, a group of three staggering inside. Each man armored in worn blue and gray. Visors of helmets shaped in a black ’T’. 

“Al!” The one in front calls, fist banging the counter. “We’ll take the usual to go!”

“Well,” Sela sighs. “That’s part of it.”

“That… Those are Mandalorians,” Odella stumbles.

“Sure is. You ain’t ever seen one?”

“Only in books.”

Sela emits an audible, heh, shaking her head. “If you’re expecting knights in shining armor, look else where. Stop bangin’ on my counter!” She shouts to them. “Damn animals.”

The one in the back… barks.

Sela spares her a look saying, See what I mean?

“Point taken,” Odella responds. 

“Sela!” The front calls, making his way over. “You’re looking as beautiful as ever. Have you lost weight?”

“Fenn Rau,” Sela introduces. “He’s tryna be like his daddy and failing miserably.”

“All with practice my dear,” the Mandalorian corrects. Removing his helmet, a blond head appears. “My father can’t say he’s helped train the Republic army, now can he?”

“So much for that,” Sela laughs. “I hear they’re calling it an Empire now.”

“Is there a difference?”

“There is when them clones you train kill the wizards.”

“Jedi?”

“That’s what I heard.”

Fenn snorts. “Then I have trained them as Mandalorian, haven’t I?”

“Bit macabre if you ask me.” Sela taps at Odella’s shoulder. “You’re from the inside,” she says. “You hear anything bout it?”

“Huh? Oh, no,” Odella says. “I don’t do politics.”

“Smart move.”

A smile drags onto Fenn’s features, brow raised. “Hello, hello,” he says. He takes Odella’s hand, kissing its back. “My name is Fenn Rau, Journeyman Protector. And, you are?”

“Passing by,” Sela interrupts, swatting his arm. “Leave the poor girl alone.”

“I’m being friendly. It’s part of the role.”

Odella removes herself, nose scrunching. “I’m flattered,” she deadpans. “Truly.”

“If you need somewhere to stay, my home is always available to you.”

And she thought Coruscant boys were bad.

“Rau!” A gruff voice shouts from the back. “Order up!” 

Fenn straightens, tipping his head. “I’ll be seeing you around,” he says. “Welcome to Concord Dawn.”

Treason. Conspiring with Saw Gerrera.

That’s what Tarkin called it, taking the word of a probe droids data. Shock troopers surrounding the Batch the second they landed on Kamino left them without fight. Not one that would leave all five alive anyways.

Hunter blames himself, he should’ve accounted for this possibility.

Now here they are, stripped to their blacks, pushed into a makeshift prison. 

“I assume you know the punishment for treason,” Tarkin said. The answer was clear as day, something they all knew would be waiting for them past these ray shields.

Death if they’re lucky.

Reprogramming if not. 

While Clone Force 99 tries not to make it a habit of coming back or staying on Kamino for too long, one way or another they manage to catch up with chatter. Lucky or not, Hunter’s status as Sergeant grants him acceptance with the Regs. Not much, but greater than someone like Wrecker anyways.

Word circled around about some new experimental operation. A machine the Kaminoans begun sticking clones into when they strayed too far. Some say it’s what was done to the reg from the 501st Legion, rumored to go mad, threatening the Chancellor.

Emperor. 

Other stories were more specific, coming from those claiming to have walked into the wrong room, overheard the wrong conversations. 

It didn’t have a name, not that they knew, but the premise was clear. A type of factory reset. Mind completely erased, personality cleared, memories, names— in extreme cases, basic human function— gone. Flayed.

This was the obvious route for the squad to take. Their… uniqueness, value, was never lost to the Kaminoans. Even if it was to the rest. Successful mutations, viable to see adulthood. As cadets they were frequently separated from the others, given more exams, more physicals. Trained harder, stricter, made the other in every way possible.

No, Tarkin won’t kill them. He’d be stupid to.

Hunter sighs. That can be worried about later. For now… his vision drops to Omega, sat on the ground.

“Me?” she asks. “You came back for me?”

“The option’s yours,” Hunter tells her. “Though, I’d prefer if you’d come with us. I’d hate to get us captured for nothing.” He sighs, treading on obnoxious. “But if you’d rather stay on Kamino…”

She gasps, leaning up. “No! I told you before, I want to go with you.”

Hunter nods. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”

From the back, Crosshair groans. “Cute,” he mutters. “Touching, really.”

Wrecker clears his throat. “Hunter,” he says. “How are we breaking out of here?”

He responds, “I’m working on it.”

“You know what you should work on?” Crosshair asks. “Explaining when you went soft.”

“Stow it Crosshair,” Echo snaps. He shakes out his right scomped arm. Phantom pains.

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t all noticed. He’s been failing ever since Anaxes, and I’ve been the only one to say something about it.” He steps up, Hunter blocks his way to Omega. “Why don’t you own up to the truth of why you’re really doing this, Hunter?” 

He pauses. “What truth?”

“That she’s dead,” he says. “We all know it. She was a Jedi who never knew you existed and you were still weak enough to get attached.”

“Crosshair. You don’t want to start this,” Hunter warns.

“Wake up Hunter. There is nothing you can do to bring her back. Not letting the Padawan escape. Not helping Guerra—“ he points to Omega, “—not saving this kid. She was a Jedi. She betrayed the Emperor. They all did.” He grips the side of his head. “You don’t even know her name. She deserved to die.”

Echo acts before Hunter gets the chance, shoving Crosshair into the wall. “Say that again.”

Crosshair snorts, looking down the three inches between them. “Oh look, the mech has something to say.”

“Guys,” Wrecker attempts. “C’mon. Not in front of the kid.”

They ignore.

“Why haven’t you told him?” Crosshair asks.

“Tell him what?” Echo responds. 

“That you knew her.” His gaze flickers past, back onto Hunter. “There was only one girl on Anaxes. Worked in the med bay with the regs. Fixed up Echo.”

“What’s your point?” Hunter asks.

“You’ve got competition. We were on that base for four days and all I ever saw was her with the 501st. I bet she was with them when the Order went off. I bet, they all shot her dead. Maybe if Echo stayed he would’ve done it himself.”

“Shut it,” Echo hisses.

“I’m telling the truth. You know it. Deep down, you’re still a Reg.” Crosshair shoves at him.

“A Reg with ARC training,” Echo reminds. “Don’t push it.”

“You should be the most loyal to the Empire out of all of us. Why aren’t you? Why defend a worthless Jedi? Hunter becoming a liability I’d expect, but you?”

“That’s enough,” Hunter snaps. “Both of you. We’re a team. Act like it. You’re right,” he says to Crosshair. “She is dead. But that doesn’t matter anymore. We can discuss my choices all you want later. For now, let’s focus on getting out of here.”

“Now I know you say it’s fine, but I took a bit off your tab for having to put up with Fenn,” Sela says, placing the bill in front of Odella. “Puts you at thirty even.”

“How’s fifty?” Odella asks, reaching into her pouch. “You can keep the rest as a tip.”

“Oh don’t do that.”

“I insist,” she says, placing the credits. “You wouldn’t happen to know of any places I can camp out for the next day or so, would you?”

“Can’t say I do. Like I said, strays, they squat wherever they like.”

“No inns?”

“Not since the last one up the road closed. Al’s been looking to buy it but, no chance cubes.”

“You’re not looking for a roommate?”

Sela laughs. “You wanna nanny five kids under ten?”

“Pass. I have enough trouble tolerating one.”

“Then I’m outta options. Sorry doll.”

Odella sighs, raising her hood as she stands. “How far’s the next town?”

“Bout… fifteen klicks north.”

“Great,” she mutters. “I better get going then. Thank you again for the food.” She waves the canteen strapped over her torso. “And the water.”

“You’re leaving just like that?”

“Course. Gotta make land while the sun’s up. Give my compliments to Al. I haven’t had food like that in years.”

Sela nods. “I will. Best of luck to you.”

Odella makes it approximately fifteen footsteps to the door before collision, running directly into a stout man, double her size. Clean plates fly into the air, the male falls onto his rear, the diner goes silent.

She catches them all. “I am so sorry,” she gasps, struggling to stack. She moves them to one arm, offering out the free one. “I’m so clumsy.”

The man ignores her, swearing under his breath. He stands on bent knee, heaving up.

“Are you hurt?” Odella asks.

“‘m fine,” he mutters. He spares her a look, half disgusted half shocked. “You’re too small to have that much force on ya.”

She blinks. “What?”

“Bet I’ve got over a hundred pounds on you and you knock me down like that?”

“I swear it was an accident.”

“I believe you.”

She holds out the plates. “Sorry. Again.”

It’s his turn to blink. “You caught them?”

“Opposed to what?” She asks. “Letting them fall?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Sounds like more trouble on you.”

He confirms, taking them. “It would be.”

“Exactly.”

“Huh.” He looks around the diner, to her, then out again. “Sela!” He calls. “This one yours?”

She answers from the back. “Sure is Al.”

“Of course you’re Al,” Odella sighs. “Maker, I really am a piece of work aren’t I? I wish I could say I’m not usually like this but I’d be lying.”

“Accent’s weird. Where you from?”

Odella answers shy. “Naboo.”

“These are Naboo decor plates,” he says, holding one up. White, hand-painted in blue. “They’re expensive.”

“Most Naboo things are. Never-mind import tax.”

Al huffs again, walking away. “How are you with people?”

Odella’s quick on her feet. “I try to be friendly.”

“Can you cook?”

“Basics, but no. Nothing like you.”

He grabs a menu from the counter, passing it. “How’s your memory?”

“Above average.”

“What’s in the special?”

“Roasted porg, pasta, fresh vegetables and herbs. Sautéed with a side salad.”

“Breakfast?”

“Bluemilk pancakes and fresh fruit.”

He takes the menu back. “Prices for the first three items on the dinner side.”

“Twenty, seventeen, and fourteen. Without sides.”

“You got a place to stay?”

“No sir.”

“You need one?”

“Desperately.”

Al nods, shoving his hands into the pockets of his apron. “I know a guy,” he says. “Little over three klicks south. Kyr Drios, he’s an mean old lonely fucker, don’t take kindly to strangers. Could shoot you dead just for stepping on his land.” 

“Oh.”

He throws the rag from over his shoulder, wiping the bar. “But like I said, he’s an old fucker.” Odella lifts the napkin dispenser, he wipes under it. “Meaning, he won’t.”

“Oh.”

“He’s been bitching to me about needing help on the day to day. Now he doesn’t say he needs help, but the implications are there.”

“Right.”

“He’s got a big white place, though it’s dirty, run down. Porch out front, can usually find him smoking. Now, I try to pop by when I can, give em food. You can do that. Tell em I sent you, offer your labor. He likes you, he lets you stay. You stay, you get a job here.”

“You mean it?”

“My last girl walked out yesterday. Sel likes you, I don’t hate you, I’m sure you’ll get along with the others. Now it won’t be easy convincing him, and he’ll say no but be persistent. Not too much you get shot, but enough to wear em down. Think you can do that?”

“Annoying old men is my specialty.”

“Glad to hear it. You can start tomorrow. We open just after sunrise. Oh, and the nice girl act is cute and all. But Rau’s tame around these parts. Toughen up a bit.”

“Less nice, more tough. Easy.”

“Easier said,” Al corrects. “You don’t strike me as a fighter.”

“Well,” Odella sighs. “I guess you’re in for a surprise or two, aren’t you?”

He chuckles. “I guess I am.”

They took Crosshair.

Worse than that, they took Crosshair and Hunter did nothing to stop it. They hit him in the gut and he fell and he did nothing. 

The Batch file into Tipoca City’s hangar, one by one, ducked to their tossed items. The storm rages on outside, Tech predicts levels to rise to a four within the hour. Thunder clashes while lightning strikes. The floor is slick with spilt in rain, their boots slide and squeak along the cement.

“No one waste time,” Hunter says. “Suit up. Let’s make this quick.” Turns out emergency dressing drills do have their benefits. “Tech, get in and power up the ship. The rest of us will track down Crosshair. The second we come back we’re out of here.”

Bay doors chime with finishing touches, Hunter’s vibroblade just sliding into its holster.

“I don’t think we’ll have to go far,” Omega says. 

Doors open to a squad of shock troopers, six total in ready position. They spread around the entrance, leaving way for one final man. Crosshair. He walks tall, proud even. Rifle hoisted into the air, a matching helmet to his new all black suit at his side.

Wrecker asks the obvious. “Is that Crosshair?”

No one answers. They already know.

Yes. It is.

Hunter stands, walking forward. “Stand down, Sergeant,” Crosshair says. “Make it easy on yourself.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Hunter asks. He waves out. “What is this?”

“We should’ve killed that Jedi. You disobeyed orders. You betrayed the Emperor.”

“I did what I thought was right.”

“You never could see the bigger picture. You’ve always been like this. Always lost inside yourself. Your fantasies. Look where that’s gotten you. You want to do what’s right? Surrender, Hunter.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Is that an order?”

Crosshair laughs. “I guess it is.”

“Well,” Hunter says. “I guess I’m disobeying that one too.” 

Locked in a stalemate. Brother against brother. No one wins. Everyone loses.

Time stands still.

Quick draws were easier as children. Less deadly. Hunter wants to behave the same as when they were cadets. Kids. Weapon lowered, fake with paintballs. Shields disappeared.

Crosshair doesn’t play the same anymore.

In hindsight, neither does he.

Crosshair is the first to shoot, Hunter senses the build of energy within the rifle before the trigger is pressed. He ducks and the rest of the Corrie guards fire. They throw smoke grenades, aiming through the fog. 

“Tech,” Hunter says through their comm. “We gotta move, now!”

“I’m working on it.”

“Work harder. Wrecker, we need the smoke cleared.”

“Got it, boss.”

“Omega, keep your head down. Don’t look.”

Crosshair doesn’t hesitate. Wrecker is shot, his helmet tumbles, gaining a new scratch gained against the pavement. Omega dives after him, pulled back by Hunter. Crosshair’s shot barely misses.

“He’s using Wrecker as bait,” Hunter tells her. “Don’t.”

“He needs help!” She cries. “You can’t leave him!”

“And we won’t—Tech! We’re out of time!”

“Almost got it!” The Maraduer powers on, engines blasting blue flame. 

Alarms sound overhead, Crosshair shouts and the bay door cranks to shut.

Until… they don’t. 

“I suggest you move now!”

Hunter grabs Omega’s shoulders. “When I say go, you head for that ramp and you don’t stop? Got it?”

“But—“

“Listen to me. Nothing’s gonna hurt you, I promise. Echo and I will grab Wrecker. Everything will be okay.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“There’s only one way out, Hunter!” Crosshair calls. “Your move.”

Hunter shouts, “Go!” Blaster fire erupts within the hangar once more, plasma bolts of red and blue scattered in the air. Echo handles Wrecker, Hunter standing guard.

“C’mon big guy,” Echo mutters. “Gotta go.”

His response is a groaned blinking consciousness. “Wha…”

“Hunter! A little help here!”

“Shit.” Hunter takes Wrecker from under his left arm, Echo the right. “On three, pull him to stand.”

“Crosshair’s got a lock on us!”

“Then we hurry. One… two…”

Three.

A blue plasma beam shoots over their heads. Crosshair’s gun falls.

Helmeted heads turn upward, gravitating to the source. 

Omega.

She continues the assault, and whether purposeful or not she misses Crosshair each time, chasing him into the corridor.

Hunter and Echo drag Wrecker onto the ship. “Move Tech! Seal the doors!” He pulls Omega’s arm, removing her from view. “Are you okay?” He asks, kneeling. “Are you hurt?”

“Yes—No,” she says, shaken. “I’m okay.”

“So’s he. In case you were wondering,” Echo says. He struggles to lift Wrecker onto the nearest seat, moving his head up. “Cross hit the armor seam, took the brunt of the impact.”

“Still check him out, make sure nothing’s sprained,” Hunter instructs. “Tech!”

“Just a moment!”

“Get started,” he tells Echo. “While he’s still too out of it to complain.”

“Fine by me.”

“I am not out of it,” Wrecker objects. “I’m just—ouch!” Grabbing his shoulder, he glares at Echo. “Watch where you stick that thing.” 

“Just hold still, you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well I do—ow!”

Tech enters next, swerving by a laughing Omega. “Right then,” he says, tapping away at a handheld. “Don’t move.”

“Don’t examine me,” Wrecker grumbles. “I’m not a computer.”

“No,” Tech agrees. “Echo is far more agreeable than you.”

Things feel almost normal.

Almost.

Within the commotion, Omega leaves into the cockpit. She stays small, hands playing with themselves close to her chest. Lighting is minimal, mixes of red, whites, and blues. She stops at the window, Hunter follows.

“Your first time in space?” He asks. 

“First time anywhere,” Omega says. Her eyes are blown like saucers, dancing connecting lines between each star. “I’ve only seen pictures.”

Hunter clears his throat. “Impressive shot back there… Where’d you learn to do that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never fired a blaster before,” she shrugs. “They’re not as heavy as they look. I guess I got lucky.”

“She’s not the only one,” Tech says. The rest of the Batch enters, filing behind while Tech takes control. Wrecker mutters about his strength, denying any possibility of failing to a blaster. Echo pats his back.

“Sure thing Wrecker.”

“I’m serious!”

“Course you are.”

A space of silence falls, a natural prompting for the lack of noticeable sarcastic commentary.

No one fills it. 

“So,” Tech says. “What’s the plan, Hunter?”

“It was to go off on our own,” he says. “Lay low. But with Crosshair gunning for us, I’m not so sure.”

“What about your friends?” Omega asks. “Could any of them help?”

Tech snorts. “That would be a short list.”

But not nonexistent.

“I can think of one,” Hunter says. “Plot a course for J-19.”

Echo repeats. “J-19?”

“We know a guy.”

Wrecker laughs, fist pumped in the air. “Yeah!”

“Strap in,” Hunter tells Omega, guiding her in the co-pilots seat. “You’re not gonna wanna miss this view.”

Jumping into hyperspace, Omega holds a million stars in her eyes. It’s here and now that Hunter decides he will do anything he can to make sure they never fade. 

Odella arrives at the Drios homestead by the late afternoon, the hour long pebbled trail building blisters on her feet. Set in the middle of nowhere, crops rotted over, soil closer to dust. From her position, gridlocked on the road, a home on either side. The right being the stranger to the situation. By the looks of it, a completely abandoned home. Weeds and vines towering and gripping to exterior walls. Windows boarded, paint weathered and chipped. The other, exactly what Al explained. Run down, white, dirty. One old man sat in a rocker.

Bingo.

Her approach is overly cautious, lowering her hood, not speaking until at the base of the steps. “Hello,” she says. “Are you Kyr Drios?”

The man wears patched overalls, worn at the knees, a rolled cigarette between his fingers. He rests with closed eyes, straw hat shading his face. “I ain’t buying it,” he says.

Odella blinks. “Sorry?”

“I said I ain’t buying it,” he repeats, louder. “Take your catalogue elsewhere.”

“Catalogue?” She whispers. She’d seen a few of the door to door types on Coruscant, those from the lower levels, Underworld. Usually selling makeup or cheap knickknacks just to make a dime. What relevance that had now is lost on her. “I’m not here to sell anything,” she says. “I was wondering if you could spare a moment of your time to—“

“No.”

“What?”

“What are you deaf?”

“No?”

He scoffs. “Don’t sound too sure.”

“Right,” Odella says. “I’m new in the area and I happened to run into a friend of yours—“

“I ain’t got friends.”

No kidding.

“Point is, we got to talking and he said—“

“Who?”

“Oh, Al? From the diner, just down—“

“I know it.”

Her lips press into a tight line, nodding. “Well, Al gave me this.” Her hand juts out, bag of take out swinging. “He said it’s your favorite, and I’m not supposed to say but I think there’s pie in there too.”

“Huh.”

“Smells like jogan.”

Only now does he care to actually look at Odella. She smiles. He rolls his eyes. “Set it by the door, then get out.” 

“I’m not done.”

Kyr groans. “Course not.”

“Like I said, I’m new in town and… I don’t know if you’ve heard of this new Empire thing going on but—“

“No.”

She claps. “If I could get one sentence out—“

“My answer is no. I ain’t giving you money, and you sure as shit ain’t squattin’ here.”

“I’m not asking to squat!” Odella cries. “Squatters don’t ask, they just squat. If I wanted to squat here I’d just do it. Now, if you could shut up and listen to me for more than five seconds of your life you’d know I don’t want your money and I don’t want to squat here! Al said you need help. I’m help. Whatever you need, I’m here. All I need is a place to sleep. That’s not squatting, that’s an exchange of service.”

Kyr doesn’t miss a beat. “Girl, get off my property before you meet my gun.”

“Fine!” Odella laughs, raising her hands. “I don’t want to live here anyways. And just so you know it’s not going to kill you to say please and no thank you. And maybe, just maybe, let someone else talk!” She storms down the steps, creaking under her feet.

At the bottom, she comes back, placing the food at the door with a thud. 

“I’ll have you know that in the past week I have been victim of two terrorist attacks, persecuted, damn near possessed, found out my family hates me, found out my older sister wants to kill me, smuggled by a goddamn pirate who makes less sense than a literal green goblin who raised me, hit on, and everyone I know is dead! And now I’m here, bothering you and I wish I weren’t because Maker knows you have no one in your life for a reason, but I am. Because guess what Kyr, we don’t always get what we fucking ask for!” At the end, Odella’s face is as red and warm as Dathomir. She sighs, wholly antagonized, then smiles. “Have a good day.”

She makes it farther this go around, trudging through a path to the broken picket fence. In hindsight, Odella blames Elenia for this entirely. She never used to be confrontational before their meeting, content to keep her head down and do as told.

That version of herself feels a millennia away now.

Odella marches back up the porch, much to Kyr’s annoyance, arms crossed, scowl threatening to be permanent.

“Girl, I told you—“

“Shut up,” she says. “Is that your garden?” Her thumb jutting over her shoulder.

“What?”

“What are you, deaf? Is that your garden?” She repeats.

Kyr narrows his gaze. He nods. “It is.”

“How was your last harvest?”

“What are you on about?”

“You’re a farmer right? How was your harvest?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “Not great, right? Your soil’s dried up, roots are dead, I doubt you’re doing a proper rotation to let anything heal. I’m guessing you can’t make it to market as often as you’d like either.”

“I’m givin’ you ten seconds to get off my property.”

“I can help you,” Odella says. “I garden, I know plants. I can get you the best harvest you’ve seen in your life. Just give me until next season and I’ll prove it. I’ll take care of everything, I’ll even go to market for you and you can keep all the profit. I just need somewhere to stay, as soon as the season is done I’ll be out of your hair forever. I promise.”

“The hell are you doing here girl? Don’t lie to me.”

“Ask the pirate,” Odella answers, blunt. “I don’t have family or friends or anyone I can go to. All I’m asking for is one season. Three months that’s all.”

For a long time, Kyr says nothing at all. He blows smoke, tapping his foot, rocking his chair. Then, “Can you fight?”

“What?”

“You ain’t picked the safest area to run away to. Girl your size, gotta be able to protect herself.”

Odella nods. “I can fight.”

“Well?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“You shoot?”

“I can.”

“Shy bout killin someone?”

“I’ve done it before.”

Kyr’s brows raise, the answer unexpected. He nods, purposeful. “I got a room in the attic,” he says. “It’s busted to hell, but if you’re willing to fix it up, it’s yours.”

“Yes,” Odella responds immediately. “Yes. Yes that’s no issue.”

“This ain’t charity. If you’re living here you’re puttin in work. I’m old. Meaning, I’m too old for teenage bullshit. Won’t stand for it.”

“Well, actually I’m twenty so—“

“I don’t care. I don’t stand for it. I don’t want friends over. No parties. No boyfriends.”

“Trust me, I’m not here to make waves.”

“And imma need someone to clean, cook, make sure this damn place don’t fall apart.”

“Deal.”

“I ain’t paying ya either.”

“Al offered me a job.”

He sighs, sounding like Yoda. Odella almost laughs. “You aren’t giving up. Are you?”

“No sir,” she says. “I’m very stubborn.”

He nods. “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“You can stay. Just for the season, then you’re out. Got it?”

“Yes,” she says. “Yes. Understood. Thank you. Thank you so much. You won’t regret this.”

He snorts, flicking away his roll. “Better not,” he mutters. “So what’s your name?”

“My name?”

“I gotta call you something don’t I?”

Odella’s hand falls to her collar, gripping the crystals from over her shirt. A name… It comes without hesitation.

“Avana,” she says. “Avana Tarré.”

Next: SUPPLEMENTAL DATA III

[spaceagecats]

Kurapika returns to the Lukso Province.

My piece for @zine--garden! Just a lil Leopika moment for you all :)

[jedimemery]

I think we all looked past the very important fact that not only did Crosshair and Omega get away with their escape and find Hunter and Wrecker, but they managed to snag 30,000 credits in the process.

[marosii]

Listen no one said there's no such thing as a cowboy hunter

[killugon-truther]

okay but the fact that killua & alluka have the same pale skin and the same/similar pale blue eyes means everything to me, actually.

they look like little cats lmao i love them.

[lainiespicewrites]

I just want to feel safe - Walter Marshall fanfic. Part 1?

Okay. Preface. This story has mentions of sexual assault. This is a personal story. But I've changed a lot of the names and some of the actual story to fit the fic. I think that I've decided this is going to be a series. It's taken a lot out of me writing this but. I really love Walter and I can see this relationship growing into something more than what is here. I also think that from a healing standpoint, I'm gonna write the story I never gave myself the chance to have. Anyway. That's enough from me. I'll let you guys read the story now. I know this is a heavy topic and situation but I'm still always open to comments and feedback. Thank you guys for the support in posting this <3

Plot: OFC reports assault after 2 years and Detective Walter Marshall is assigned to her case. He will stop at nothing to help her feel safe again.

Warnings: Panic attacks, mentions of sexual assault (retelling the story of what happened.)

Unbeta'd Mistakes are totally my own and I own that. This might be a mess because honestly I was super emotional writing this but it felt good to get it all down.

Please don't share without crediting.

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

I’m not sure what I expected a police station to be like. Frankly I’d never really imagined myself in one. Kind of funny how things can change like that. All of a sudden you’re doing things you’d never imagine. That’s how I ended up here. In this strangely familiar looking police station. I guess maybe that’s the one thing movies and Tv got right. Police stations for the most part look exactly the same. This whole night started from a list of  “Fuck it why not’s” that spiraled out of control. But that explanation alone was not enough to help the officer help me. I looked back at the petite woman in front of me. I’m sure she was a good police officer. I wasn't trying to doubt her skill. But her overly sympathetic nature and deer in the headlights look on her face was making me feel worse. 

“I know this is hard.” She spoke softly, placing her hand over mine on the table. She didn’t know. She had no idea what this was like. Being attacked like this. Letting yourself become vulnerable because ‘why not’ I’d known those boys my entire life. When my brother invited me out for drinks with his friends, I didn’t have a reason not to trust them. Not to trust… him. My brother didn’t know. He couldn’t have known. He was betrayed too. “But I need you to tell me what you remember, what happened to you, so we can help you.” I looked around again At the empty gray walls. Out the window into the dark cloudy night sky. It must be almost midnight now. Anywhere but at the woman in front of me. What did she say her name was? Rachel? I focused on the empty desk chair behind her when I finally spoke. 

“It doesn’t matter. I remember all of it. Every detail. But we have no case.” I muttered I looked down playing with my hands again. 

“Alayna,” She said my name softly. I met her eyes again for the first time since we sat at her desk. “You don’t know that. You did the right thing coming here and reporting it. I need you to talk to me.” She pleaded with me. She didn’t understand. 

“No,” I said again. “I do know.” 

“How do you know we can’t help you?” She asked her eyes boring into mine. I know she wants to help. I know that but I just don’t see how they  can. not after it’s been so long. 

“There’s no evidence.” I said. 

“Sweetheart, with all due respect you aren’t a police officer we may be able to find something you wouldn’t think to look…”

“It was two years ago.” Rachel paused then. She took a deep breath and sat back in her chair. 

“2 years ago?” she repeated. I nodded. She let out a soft sigh. “Sweetie, Why did you wait so long to tell somebody?” She asked. This felt more manageable. This I at least knew the answer for. It was logical. It made sense. Well it doesn’t really make much sense but when you’re bargaining with yourself it does. 

“I didn’t think it would matter. I’m still not sure it does.” I said. I swallowed hard. Now or never Alayna. You didn’t walk 3 miles to the police station, in the cold, after a panic attack to not give yourself some kind of peace. I let out a long breath and started again but then the door of the squadroom opened. A tall figure walked in. I couldn’t make out much of him at first. Just that he was very tall, 6,1 or something and had a full beard. He was wearing a heavy winter coat and beanie. I tensed a little when  I watched him walk from the entrance to the desk next to Rachel’s. He shrugged off his coat revealing a thick gray sweater. He draped his coat over his chair and pulled off his beanie. His hair was a mess of dark curls. As soft and cozy as he should have looked…Something still felt intimidating about him. Maybe it was because he hadn’t spoken a word since he’d walked in the room. None of us had actually. 

“Alayna,” Rachel said my name, getting my attention and finally breaking the silence. “This is detective Walter Marshall. He’s going to be working on your case.” That’s right. When I came in to report, the officer on duty at the station had to attend to a call. When I told them I wanted to report an assault, they told me that they’re psychiatrist was still in the office.  I  could talk to her until one of the detectives was available. I think they were afraid if they told me to come back later… I wouldn’t. They were probably right. Although I’m not quite sure if it would be because I’d lost my nerve or dying of hypothermia on the walk home.  Rachel wasn’t even a detective. Was I really that out of it? Why didn’t I remember that until now?

“Okay,” was all I managed to say. 

“I can stay,” she said. I'm not sure if it was for me or the detective. Maybe both. “If you’re more comfortable. If it’s easier for you. Ya know?” she asked. I shook my head and I watched as the detective…Walter, put his hand on her shoulder. 

“Go home, it's been a long day,” he told her. His voice was deep but he spoke softly. And surprisingly he had an English accent. “We’ll manage,”  his eyes were tired and heavy when they met mine. He offered a gentle smile. I nodded. 

“You’re sure?” She asked. 

“I don’t want to keep you Rachel. I can talk to the detective.” I said. She nodded. 

“Okay, wait right here, just a moment while I catch him up okay? And then you two will get started.”  I gave her a slight nod and just stared out the window again. Rachel and the detective went off into a side office somewhere to discuss what I’d already mentioned. This was sure to be quick now. As soon as she tells him how long it’s been, he’ll dismiss me. This was so stupid. I’d kept this to myself for this long. I knew this was a bad idea. Just as I had convinced myself to get up and leave the office door opened again. 

“Thank you,” Walter’s voice said from across the room. “Get home safe.” he told Rachel as she waved goodbye. I gave her a small wave. I sat back in the chair trying to relax. But I knew I couldn’t. He came back over to the desk leaning his hip against it, crossing one foot over the other. “Are you comfortable out here or would you like to talk in my office?” He asked. “There aren’t too many people still around this late but, it would offer a bit more privacy than the open squadroom. It’s up to you.” He stated. I thought about it for a moment. Finally, I  pulled my eyes from the window to look up at him. 

“I think I’d feel better with a little more privacy,” I said. He gave me a sympathetic smile. 

I stood up from my spot next to the desk.  Then he led me out of the squadroom and down the hall to a small office. There wasn’t much, just a large desk with nothing but a computer and a travel coffee mug on it. The walls were bare other than a standard wall clock. He motioned for me to take a 

seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk as he shut the door behind us. He circled around to the other side of the desk, setting a file down and taking a seat across from me. 

“You’re reporting  an assault, is that right?” He asked. I nodded. 

“Yes, not a recent one. I’m sure Rachel informed you.” I said. I felt so ashamed of myself. I was wasting his time. Detective Marshall’s eyes met mine. I didn’t find the same overly sympathetic look in his eyes like I did with Rachel. He wasn’t pitying me. He wasn’t trying to psychoanalyze  me. At the same time, it wasn’t cruel or harsh. Not even annoyed. Just open. 

“She did,” he spoke after a brief pause. “But I’d like to hear the information from you myself. If that's alright with you?” He questioned. I swallowed hard. I leaned forward and folded my hands on the desk. 

“I can do that.” My voice shook when I spoke. “Will I need to write a witness statement too?” I asked him. Telling this story once was going to be hard enough. Seeing it written on paper was going to be gut wrenching. 

“Let’s just get through this conversation first. We’ll talk about the rest later, "he said. I nodded. He sat with his forearms leaning on the desk and his hands folded together. He pursed his lips into a tight small smile and nodded toward me. “Whenever you’re ready.” He stated. I swallowed hard. Of course it didn’t necessarily mean that. It was after midnight now. This guy probably wanted to get home. I had to get this out. 

“November 12th, or well 13th I guess. It was around 1:30 or 2am so the 13th. My brother, his friends and I had gone out for his birthday. It wasn’t his birthday though, we had to wait until the weekend to celebrate because it fell during the week.” I was rambling. He needed details. I need to stop rambling. “Uh anyway, We were at a bar, earlier that night on the 12th, but I got kind of tired. The boys were picking on me for being a lightweight and leaving early. I left the bar at 11, got home at like 11:15. I went right to bed. I was really tired. The boys were all gonna come back to the house when they were done at the bar. I woke up to the bedroom door bursting open at like 1 am and someone yelling my name. I screamed. It was my brother's friend. Um.” I paused for a second, starting to feel uncomfortable. Did I have to describe it exactly? What did I have to say? But Walter spoke, easing the tension a bit. 

“And what’s his name?” He asked me. 

“His name is Justin, uh Justin Veach.” I responded. Walter nodded for me to continue as he wrote a note in his folder. He put the pen down and looked up at me again letting me know he was listening. 

“Uh He said, ‘It’s okay! Don’t freak out, it's just me! We’re back, come hang out with us!’ Then he came over to my bed and kissed my face which was weird but he was an affectionate guy and well they were still drunk. I didn’t think much of it. He’d known me since I was a baby. He and my brother had been best friends since kindergarten. They were ten years older than me and he watched me grow up.” I shuttered a little thinking about it. “Um so after that he left. After telling me to come down stairs to talk with them again. And I did. We sat in the kitchen. I just sat there sleepy and confused. The boys were talking and eating drunk snacks or whatever,” I kind of chuckled a little. “It was nice. But we were talking about how it’s so funny that I’m old enough to go drink with them now. And Justin kept making these comments about remembering when I was born and that I was such a beautiful baby. It seemed so weird. But looking back. He knew. He knew what he was planning on doing…. We all said we were gonna go to bed. Blake, my brother, told Justin he could sleep on the couch or they could share his bed or whatever. But Justin was coming up the stairs with us and he said ‘I wanna cuddle’ to me, and he was still drunk and I thought he was joking so I laughed it off and said ‘yeah sure’ I let him lay in my bed. But I put myself on the inside. I thought he was just gonna lay there a minute and like it would be a joke. Blake did too. He asked if I was okay before he went to his room. Because he was still kinda drunk and ready to crash. I said. I was. But Justin didn’t just lay  there. He took off his pants before he got into the bed so he was just in boxers and his shirt. And,”

 I was shaking. I couldn’t do this anymore. I was gonna cry. I didn’t know this man. He was surely annoyed by me and. God he probably thought I was lying. That’s what Justin would tell him. When he confronts him. That I’m lying. Or maybe that's what I wanted. This was so stupid  I shouldn’t have come here. I swallowed hard again. I looked back up at walter. I could feel the tears in my eyes. 

“Take your time.” He said softly. “Is this when he hurt you?” He asked.

“I can’t,” my voice was trembling now. “I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time, I can’t do this.” I sobbed. I stood up to leave his office. Walter stood and walked to the other side of the desk gently reaching out and putting his hand on my shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do, I know that. I wasted your time detective. I’m so sorry.”

“Hold on,” Walter’s voice was low. “Sit back down, and breathe for a moment. If anything else I can’t let you walk out of here and drive home in this state.” I looked at his face. He was concerned. Worried about me. About my safety. I sat back down in the chair. I took a deep breath trying to compose myself again. But I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. “It’s okay, You’re safe in here. I’m going to do everything I can to help you Alayna.” Detective Marshall said, crouching down in front of me to meet my eyes again. I nodded. “Do you think you can keep going?” he asked. I nodded again. He stood and leaned on the edge of his desk. His proximity seemed to help keep my calm. I don’t know what was so different between him and talking with Rachel. But when he said he could help, I believed him. Maybe it was the sheer size of this man. Or the gun on his hip. Or maybe there was something in his aura or some other bullshit I didn’t understand that was protective and made me trust him. Fuck maybe I’d gone to far to turn back now and I was too emotionally exhausted not to lean on anyone who would listen. Whatever it was, I continued. 

“At first I was just laying next to him. Like I was saying, I thought it was a joke. But he wrapped his arm around me to make me cuddle him.. I guess. He started rubbing my back. I froze up. I started to recognize that his hand was lingering where it shouldn’t but I couldn’t say anything. And this guy he’s .. he’s huge. I mean like 6 foot and like 400 lbs when he rolled over on to me and started touching me I felt paralyzed I couldn’t move but… I couldn’t have pushed him off if I’d tried. I just felt hopeless. That’s when everything happened.” I sniffled softly. I hiccuuped catching my breath. “It was like I was outside of myself watching it all happen…I .. I don’t know if that makes sense? But I couldn’t do anything. All I could do was lay there. I don’t remember if I said no. But,

“You didn’t consent. That’s no. This was not your fault. You’ve already tried to blame yourself. It’s a really common thing, unfortunately, that you can’t react. But that doesn’t mean that you let it happen. Or that you wanted it to happen.”  Walter said softly. I nodded at the ground. 

“Afterward he, he fell asleep and I showered, I had to get rid of the feeling of him. I slept on the couch, Well I tried to. The next morning he was came down and sat with  all of us like nothing had happened. I had mentioned that my back had hurt the night before. And he moved closer to me and rubbed it for me. I couldn’t move. I didn’t react…again. I just. I don’t know. All I could think was, I didn’t wanna start anything. But I also couldn’t make sense of what happened. When he left I changed the sheets. I threw them away actually. My clothes were washed. But eventually I couldn’t look at them anymore. I threw them away too.”

“Why do you think it took you so long to say anything?” Walter asked me. 

“I wasn’t even sure it happened. I wasn’t sure I could call it what it was. I mean he was drunk, I just… Just laid there. It took me over a week to tell my best friend. But It took almost 4 months after talking it out with her and one of my other friends for me to face it and call it what it was. But I still can’t say it.”

“And why are you here now? What made you report it?” He raised an eyebrow. I took a deep breath. This has been eating at me so long but. This month. This 2 year “anniversary.” If you could call it that. Has been terrorizing me. 

“It’s all I could think about the last couple of weeks. I started having nightmares. Seeing him in my dreams. Before when I dreamt about it, I always got away. Someone always stopped him. But now. Now I’m trapped all overagain. It happened in my childhood home. In the room I grew up in. I’ve moved out since then. I live alone. He doesn’t even live in that town anymore. He lives 3 hours away from me. The chances that I’ll run into him are slim. And I don’t have any 

reminders of it anymore. But Sometimes if I wake up and I’m laying next to the wall it sends me into a panic. If I see someone with a similar body type or with a similar voice it shut down. He’s over a 100 miles away. But I don’t feel safe. I’m losing my mind! I’m getting up to check the lock on the door like 10 times before I can go to sleep. What if he just walks in like he did then. He doesn’t even know where I live. But I’ve never confronted him. And he has a wife! And Kids. He did when he did this to me. I can’t get over that. She needs to know but … I don’t, I don’t know what to do! That’s why I’m here, I had another panic attack, I didn’t trust myself to drive. So I walked. ” I was in tears again. He must think I’m so weak. So stupid. What an idiotic thing to do. 

“I understand, and first I want to say, I’m sorry that you went had to experience that. It’s a good you were able to tell your friends, but you were seemingly dealing with this alone for a long time. I’m sure that’s taken a toll on you. The next thing I need to ask you, is what you want to do now that you’ve told me.” I took in his words. He was right. This has been so heavy. And I’ve carried it alone for so long. But now that I’m here I never thought there would be options. 

“What can we even do? It’s been so long?” I asked. 

“Not too long though, if you want to press charges, and see him convited for this, that’s still on the table. If that’s what you want to do then yes, I do need you to write a witness statement. There will be a lot of other legal things that need to be done and signed. Then we can start an investigation. I know you think there isn’t anything here. But well do you trust me?” He asked. Did I? I didn’t know him. But Rachel seemed to. And he had his own office. That must mean he’s some high status detective right? And there was just something about him. Why did he feel so safe. It wasn’t the gun. It was. It was him. I did trust him. 

“I do,” I spoke finally. 

“I’ve put people away, on much less than what you’ve given me tonight.” He said. That felt good. To know he could lose everything. Like he made me lose my sense of security. But then my stomach dropped. 

“W-would I have to see him?” I asked meekly. 

“In court yes, possibly in a line up. But definitely in court. We would need your testimoney,”

“I- I don’t know if I can do that, I don’t know if I can face him.” I shook again. 

“There will be officers in the court. You won’t be near him. He won’t be able to get to you.” 

“Will you be there?” I asked suddenly. 

“If you’d like, yes, I can be there.” He said giving me a soft smile. 

“Can I think about it?” I asked meeting his eyes again. 

“Of course,” He stood and walked back to the other side of his desk. “It’s been a long night emotionally for you, if you’re ready tomorrow to make a decision you can come back in the morning.” He said typing a something quickly on his computer. “If you’ll wait just a few minutes I can gladly give you a ride home. It’s far too cold for you to walk, even it’s a block away.” He offered. I nodded. 

“Thank you, I appreciate that. It’s, well its actually 3 miles.” I stated biting my lip awkwardly. He let out a soft chuckle and smiled. 

“Well, I surely can’t let you walk that far this late. I’ll get you home safe.” He said. He finished typing whatever it was he was doing on his computer. Then he locked the file in his desk. He stood and gestured for me to lead out of the office. He turned the light off and locked it behind him. Oh God I’d kept him after his shift. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you,” 

“Oh, no don’t appologize, this is common practice for me. This is honestly the earliest I’ve left in weeks.” He said as we walked back to the squadroom. He grabbed his coat from the desk chair. “Do you have everything?” He asked. I nodded. 

He led us out of the station and to his truck in the parking lot. Once we were settled in, I gave him my address so he could drive me home. I watched out the window as he drove down the familiar streets. The drive was silent. The closer we got the more I got this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Back home. Back home to be alone again. I was so scared. What if he knew where I lived. I didn’t feel safe. It wasn’t long before the detective was pulling up in front of my building. 

“Thank you,” I spoke breaking the silence for the first time since we’d left the police station. 

“Of course,” He reached into his pocket pulling out a business card. “Take the night and decide what you’d like to do.” He said and then handed me the card. “That’s my cellphone number. If there’s anything else you need call…”

“Would you come in?” I cringed the second the words left my mouth. 

“I, I can search the place, If you’d like. If it would make you more comfortable.” He offered. 

“I mean, could you…” I can’t believe I was asking this, “Stay?” the word came out barely above a whisper. I sighed. I turned toward the window squeezing my eyes shut. “I’m sorry that was stupid, You probably have a wife, and a family to get home to. That was so inconsiderate. I just. I was afraid and I… I’ll just go.” I opened the door. 

“You don’t feel safe, do you?” He asked. I paused and shook my head. I didn’t. I hadn’t for weeks. But I couldn’t ask this guy to give up his time for me. 

“I don’t but, It’s okay. It’s just that there’s only one deadbolt lock on the door. And I don’t know sometimes that doesn’t feel like enough. And I can’t seem to get any sleep. But that’s not up to you. I have to figure this out. You’ve done so much to help me already detective.” I rambled. Walter let out a long breath. 

“You’ve got a lot on your mind right now and a lot to consider.” He said. “I’m sure the lack of sleep isn’t helping at all, You could use a good nights rest.”  He stated. 

“But it’s not you’re responsibility and I don’t want to take you away from your family.” I said. 

“I, well I live alone actually.” He bit his lip awkwardly “Why don’t you stay with me for the night? I’ve got some work to catch up on anyway. I probably won’t be getting much sleep. You wouldnt’t be putting me out.”

“Are you sure?” I asked raising an eyebrow. I’d given this poor guy enough trouble. And he was being so kind. Walter nodded. Honestly. The way I was feeling I didn’t have the energy to consider it any longer. I shut the door and walter put the truck in drive. 

It was almost 2 am when we walked into his house. 

“I can just sleep on the couch I, I really don’t want to be any trouble.” 

“You aren’t,” He assured me. “And please, you can sleep in the bedroom, I rarely sleep there anyway. It’d be nice to know someones getting use out of it.” He smiled. I nodded and he showed me to the room and left me to get comfortable. He said he’d be down stairs likely working in his office if I needed anything. I took in the room everything seemed to be a dark navy color the comforter, the curtains the sheets. I chuckled to myself. That made sense for him. 

I slipped off my shoes and slid under the covers. This should feel strange. And it did. But I was safe. And I hadn’t felt that way in a while. I let that feeling take over as I tried to fall asleep. But my mind started to wander again. What if he found out I reported it. What would happen. Or What would he do when they arrested him. What would he say about me. Would he say I wanted it. Tell them I didn’t push them away. Try to convince them that I was lying somehow? He was good at that. And he had a friend from college that was a lawyer. Surely he already had a story. Maybe he’d been prepared since it had happened. I started to shake again. I could feel my heart rate speeding up. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t hear the footsteps up the stairs. I didn’t see him come in. I didn’t even realize that I’d started  to cry again until I noticed he was next to me saying my name. 

“Alayna. Alayna. It’s okay. You’re okay. Take a deep breath.” He soothed.

“I can’t, I can’t… what if he tries to come after me. What if.. What if he tells them… what if tries to tell them I wanted him to…I don’t think I can do this.” I sobbed. Walter wrapped an arm around my shoulder. 

“He can’t get to you. We’ll be sure of that. All that matters, is that you’ve told us the truth. As long as you have, and as long as you confirm that in court. No matter what he says or what anyone believes, it won’t matter. I want to help you. I want you to feel safe again. I think the only way we can do that. Is to put this guy away. I’m not gonna stop until we do. I won’t let him hurt you again.”  He said.  Pulling me closer to him. 

“Do you have a sister?” I asked after a brief pause sniffling softly. 

“No,” He shook his head and leaning back against the headboard letting me rest my head against his shoulder. “But I have a daughter.” He said. 

“Is that why you do what you do?” I asked. He smiled. But he was quite for a moment. 

“Not at first. When I was younger and I first started out, it was just something that I liked. Something I was good at. But when my exwife and I had our daughter, a lot of that changed. It became personal. To an unhealthy point honestly.” He chuckled at himself. “I guess to my own detriment.”

“Is that why you’re still working even though you clocked out hours ago? You could use some good sleep too detective.” I stated. Starting to relax. 

“I haven’t slept well in ages,” He said. “Focusing on the job, oddly enough, keeps my mind off everything else. There are some horrible people in this world. I don’t have to explain that to you. I get so in my own head about how, it could be her. If I spend anymore time considering the what ifs I’d keep her locked in a tower,” He chuckled. 

“I understand that. But surely, If she was raised by you, she’s a smart girl. But.. well I guess,” I sighed. “Nevermind.” Walter squeezed my shoulder softly. 

“Thank you, I know what you mean.” He smiled sympathetically. 

“I’m going to do it.” I said suddenly. “Press charges, I mean. You’re right. Knowing can still get to me. Knowing he’s out there. That’s what’s causing me all this stress and …I can’t keep going on like this.” I stated. 

“I can take you back to the station tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Walter?” I asked nervously biting my lip. 

“Yeah?” 

“Will you stay here? I don’t know what it is I just feel.. Safer when you’re here.” I blushed softly. Walter adjusted so that he was lying on the bed. I moved and laid my head on the pillow. 

“Get some sleep darling. I’ll be right here.”

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

Okay that was part one❤️ let me know how you’re feeling about this guys!

Tag list: @summersong69 @carrie80reads @caramariehurst @redheadrouge @warriormirkwood @gummydummy19 @deandoesthingstome @shellyshellshell @mary-ann84 @starfirewildheart @foxyjwls007 @alwayzmsbehavn @toooldforobsessions@mishkatelwarriorgoddess @henryownsme @identity2212

Part 2:

[rabbitbites]

3 characters that i know in my heart and soul have ocd

1. jane prentiss from tma; literally her entire story could easily be a metaphor of ocd, like she has intrusive thoughts which at first are distressing to her but as they continue over time she is unable to ignore them and feels the need to do what they tell her to, her obsession with exterminating the ants at her first job, even her scratching and picking at her skin could be a symptom of ocd

2. psycho mantis from metal gear; other people’s thoughts literally force their way into his head in a way that is upsetting and even painful for him. when he leans into these thoughts they take control of him and his actions are determined by thoughts that he is not having!!!! idk what else you want from me

3. illumi zoldyck from hxh; this one is a little less canon especially because illumi as a character kind of takes a backseat, but it’s mostly due to his rigid patterns of thinking that we see more clearly through killua. i don’t think killua has ocd as much as illumi just projected his own symptoms onto him, but something about having a foreign object in your brain that makes you unable to act a certain way,,, yeah. also the fact that illumi views himself as a puppet with very little agency. it’s rare that we get the chance to see into illumi’s brain but seeing him through this lens just makes a lot of sense to me

anyway share characters that you hc as ocd!!

[paper-cities]

Kitty Killua

[agrebel18]

I saw this last night and thought “hey maybe Twitter isn’t THAT BAD” but anyways, here’s for the people that like parallels (me) 

[ID: three screenshots of a tweet that says “the category is blonde boys who are controlled and manipulated by a ‘family member’ who is technically not even related to them but their first true friend is a small cute creature that gives them magical powers and +” which then show two pictures of Hunter from The Owl House and Adrien from Miraculous Ladybug.

the second tweet says “their beautiful blue haired girlfriends is one of the most sweetest beings in the world <3″ which then show pictures of Willow from The Owl House and Marinette from Miraculous Ladybug. Then there is an addition to the tweet which has a picture of Hunter and Willow holding hands in their timeskip designs, and then a picture of Adrien and Marinette holding hands at their school. Then it shows a close-up picture of Hunter and Willow holding pinkies and Marinette and Adrien holding hands. 

then there is another tweet which shows a picture of Hunter carrying Willow bridal-style, and another one of Cat Noir holding Ladybug bridal-style. Then it shows a picture of Hunter reaching out to Willow in “For The Future” and then shows Cat Noir reaching out to Ladybug in “Miracle Queen.” 

The last tweet shows a picture of Hunter giving a dirty look at Flapjack, and then a picture of Adrien glaring at Plagg. The last pictures show Hunter laughing and talking to Flapjack, who’s on his shoulder, and then there is Adrien smiling affectionately at Plagg and hugging him with his hands. END ID] 

[wild-karrde]

Hi Karrde,

I FINALLY finished the intro and chapter 1 to my ongoing Hunter/OC fic! Your timing is great btw. It kicked my rear end into gear and will give me time to work meticulously on Chapter 2.

Here's the link:

Ok...it won't let me include the link again...well, poop.

Sending this over so you know I attempted to do it correctly. Will message you with the link. Thanks for your patience.

YAAAAAAY for finishing your intro and first chapter but BOOOOOO for Tumblr links being a bummer in my ask box again (THANK YOU FOR SENDING THE LINK IN MY DMs!). I already love Mad and Love from your description! They seem awesome and I cannot wait to get to know more about them! I adore this concept and the amount of research you've put into this (and as someone that puts playlist on all of my long fics, I love that you've included mood music for your writing). Thanks so much for sending this in and take your time on chapter 2!! We shall all await it excitedly but patiently!

Link

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[lovelessdagger]

The Fall of the Jedi | Chapter Five: Considering The After and Without

Pairing: Hunter x OFC

Rating: Mature

Summary: “If not a Jedi, who are you?” Yoda asks. She shrugs. “Myself.” He looks at her with that hard quizzical stare often reserved for younglings or rebelling Padawan learners. She is both under his watch. “And who is that?”

Slow Burn, Canon Divergence

WARNINGS: Explicit Language. Sith Nonsense. Religion.

Words: 4.5K

Masterlist | Daybreak Masterlist | AO3 | Prev | Next

“You have a mother,” Anakin tells Odella, two days after the Battle of Geonosis. For the first time in six years, she is without Elenia Tarré, and it’s news she’d rather not hear. She, along with some other Padawans have been allowed a day of ‘solace and reflection’ for the Masters they have lost. 

Mourning is not the Jedi way.

Anakin lays beside her on her bed, arms crossed behind his head. Odella mimics.

“What?” She asks.

“I met her while I was away in Naboo. I met your whole family, actually. They’re great friends with Padmé—Senator Amidala’s family. We had tea.”

Her only reaction is a blink.

“It’s a little insane,” he continues, taking no notice to her. “You have six sisters and four bothers. The eldest are already married with children.”

“I have ten siblings?”

“You’re the youngest.” He shrugs. “Did you know Thoren is the name of your mother? She says it’s tradition for the women to carry it. ” It’s possible she could get a word in if he’d take a breath between his own. “You look just like her,” Anakin says. “Your mother. All your sisters too.” He turns on his side. “Your mom said Thorens have strong genetics. It’s like you’re those clones we fought with.”

“Did they…” Odella hesitates. This wouldn’t count as breaking Code, would it? She’s only curious, and young, she can’t know better. “Ask of me?”

“It’s all they wanted to know,” he laughs. “Your father was delighted to hear we’re friends, and that you’re doing so well. I told them all how wonderful you are. Your parents were eager, your siblings less so but still intrigued. They’re very proud of you Del, and they can’t wait to meet you.”

“Meet me?”

“I told them we would try to visit again soon.”

Her tan skin pales, a subtle frown gracing her features. “Ani, why would you say that? I can’t meet them.”

“Sure you can,” he says. “We can. Padmé has a property on the lakes that we stayed at. You and I can go and maybe she will too, and—and you’ll meet them all and you’ll finally have a family again.”

“I don’t need a family,” Odella says.

“Everyone needs a family.”

“I don’t.”

He frowns, and as a nervous habit, tugs on his Padawan braid. “I thought you’d be excited. To have a mother again.”

“Again?”

“Elenia—“

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

“All I’m saying is,” he moves onto his elbows, looking down, “I lost my mother, and you lost yours. You’re getting another chance at one, why not take it?”

“Because I am a Jedi.” She turns away, he flips her back by her shoulder. “Or I plan to be.”

“Don’t you ever want more than this life?” Anakin asks, complete with earnest. “Haven’t you wondered of all the things you’re missing out on because of the Order?”

“On occasion, yes,” she admits, whispered. “But that does not mean I should act on it.”

“Why not?”

“It is not the Jedi way.”

“And you must always live in accordance to the rules of the Jedi?”

“Yes,” she groans, exasperated. “That’s kind of the whole point of the thing.”

Anakin settles into a similar frown, sitting up fully. “I believe we have choice.”

“We do,” Odella agrees. “You can either be a Jedi and follow the rules, or you can not, and not.” 

“And would it be so bad to not be a Jedi? Do you hate the idea so much?

“If I am not a Jedi, I am no one. I am nothing. I have no value.”

“Don’t say that. Of course you do. You mean a great deal to a lot of people, including me. Jedi or not.”

Odella looks up. “Would you ever not be a Jedi?”

Anakin says nothing at first, but he cracks his back like that were the intention all along. “No,” he says. “I don’t think I’m allowed to leave.”

It’s a far grander home than Odella imagined. The architecture is different than the rest of Theed. Distinct, tall, looking as if it were made of pure white marble. Eight slender columns in the front, four on each side, a door in the middle. It’s something of a mix between the buildings of ancient philosophers of the Outer worlds and a mock of a church.

HOUSE OF THOREN lays adorned gold on a black plaque at the base of its foundation.

She could walk in, couldn’t she? If it were indeed a desire. It is her right to enter a family of mirrors she does not recognize. Would they give her a seat at dinner? A room? How well could she fit into a family built in opulence and material?

“They’re artists,” Anakin told her. “Best of Naboo. Painters, sculptures, dressmakers, musicians, anything. Padmé says you’re one of Theed’s oldest families. They’re part of the reason artistry is held so high.”

She doesn’t expect to feel anything from being here. A sense of belonging, family, desire to know. And she doesn’t. All it is, is a house, a very beautiful house, but a house. A home to twelve.

What’s worst about it all is that she can’t feel upset over not feeling upset.

She shouldn’t be here, noon has only just passed on Coruscant while Naboo enters evening. Few lights are visible from the outside, and she is only one of many gathered in the yard for admiration.

Though the prospect of being a tourist attraction isn’t the most appealing, it does help her in not looking like a criminal.

“You’d probably be a singer, no… a dancer. No, singer, both,” Anakin said. “Or politics. You’re always the odd one out.”

“Look at these lilies,” an older woman beside her gasps, leaning down to the garden bed. She touches orange petal and follows to the red tulips beside. “Oh and the hyacinths, what a gorgeous yellow.” She looks to Odella, the only one giving her attention, and grins. “They say there’s a flower planted for each daughter. The sons have statues around Theed.” Her attention then turns to the rest, gently running her fingers on their petals.

“Zantedeschia, petunia, and iberis,” Odella lists, pointing. The woman spares her a look, and she blushes under the mask covering her face. “I… garden. Too.”

“Ah,” she quips, moving along with her cane.

“Wait,” Odella jumps, “There are only six varieties. I heard they have seven daughters. Don’t they have seven? A Jedi… person.”

A spindly finger raises, pointing at the top of the steps. In a single pot sits an orange flower, as deep as the burning of flame and sunset.

“Orchids,” Odella says.

“I’m sure you know they require great care. They’re difficult, and quite easy to kill. For it’s protection, it sits high above the rest.” She hums a chuckle of sorts. “Befitting for a Jedi, no? Better than us all.”

Odella frowns, head cocked. “I’m certain she wouldn’t see herself that way. The Jedi are humble people.”

“Are they?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are they paraded as war heroes?”

“I’m not sure its their choice, the Republic they—” she stops short, clearing her throat. “The people need something to believe in, and lightsabers photograph well.” A sentiment repeated from the Chancellor.

When the war began, every Jedi from as young as new Padawans to as old as Yoda, were photographed and given Republic issued IDs. A handful were selected for advertisements, propaganda posts to the Republic. Odella was chosen for her connection to Palpatine’s homeworld.

“A favor, to your family,” he told her. 

Dressed up by a team of people she didn’t know, she was posed with the title of Naboo Knight circulating while they unraveled her Padawan braid.

The knighting ceremony was the next day, they all said it would come out anyways and she was saved the trouble of a cut. She was the only Jedi without a piece of themself to hold.

“If they do not have choice,” the woman says, “What hope does that give the rest?”

Odella cannot offer further thought or conversation befitting to her role of a Jedi, undercover or not. So she doesn’t, and walks away tugging the hood to shadow her eyes.

The snow on Kaller is the fresh kind, pillowy instead of ice. The boots of Clone Force 99 sink four inches deep, Wreckers six. The woods are never ending, Tech leading the group with his head stuck in his nav system.

“I thought you were a map,” Echo says to Hunter. “Can’t you figure out where we’re going?”

“Better to let Tech figure it out,” he says. “Before he complains he could have done it anyways.”

“Oh.” Echo nods.

“Hunter doesn’t want to stick his hand in the snow,” Crosshair calls over his shoulder, in front of the pair with Wrecker.

Hunter coughs. “That too.”

“It bothers his precious nerves.”

“Oh,” Echo repeats, less understanding than before.

“Shut up Crosshair,” Hunter says.

“Do you have to touch the ground?” Echo asks. “I thought it just,” he motions, “Happened.”

“Connecting to the core makes it easier,” Hunter explains. “I can figure out exact locations, distance, roadblocks. If I don’t it’s more like…” he trails off, sparing a smirk and a glare. “Echoes.”

“Funny.”

“Besides, there aren’t large sources of electricity here.”

“What does that matter?”

“If whoever we’re helping were under a mass attack, I’d get a feel for the clankers,” he shrugs, “We’re in no rush.”

“It should still be a priority—“

“Echo,” Hunter interrupts. “I get that you’re still new to the group, but you gotta realize we don’t work like or with the regs for a reason. The rules, the protocol,” he waves his hand, “It doesn’t mean much here.”

Echo stops for a moment, his permanent frown deepening. “I’m a reg.”

“Were,” Tech quips from the front. “It’s debatable whether you’re much of a man at all anymore.” He looks over his shoulder. “Do not be discouraged, ultimately it is for the best.”

“How so?”

“You’re far more useful in your current state than you ever were as a reg.”

Crosshair snorts. “That’s still in the air.”

“Shove it Cross,” Hunter says. “Echo’s fitting right in. He’s one of us now, we gotta give him a little credit, it’s not easy changing teams.” He leans over to Echo. “Don’t worry about him, he mocks because he cares.”

“I do not,” Crosshair mutters.

A pelt of snow hits the back of his head, knocking it forward. The iciness of its chill melts down his neck, into the collar of his blacks. He turns sharp, a glare to match. Wrecker stands to the left as the source, tossing a snowball in his hands.

His cackle is a barrel, huge form doubling over. “You should see your face Cross!” He mocks his brothers expression, over-exaggerated face pinched in, jaw dropped.

A mocked face which soon gets hit with its own ball of snow.

Chaos breaks loose in the woods, each member brought into the fight on account of Wreckers aim being considerably worse than Crosshairs. The bigger one forms a sphere the size of their heads. He carries it above his own, stomps leaving deep prints in the snow.

“Wrecker!” Tech calls from his position on the ground, having slipped in attempt to stand. His arms shield his face, cowering away.

“Shouldn’t you stop that?” Echo pants. He at least had the foresight of putting on his helmet before joining in. Unlike Hunter, whose newly wet hair sticks to his face. He doesn’t seem to mind much.

His head waves from his to side, puffing air. “Wrecker!” He calls, gaining attention. “Make sure his data pad isn’t on ‘em. Don’t wanna ruin it.”

“Oh,” Wrecker gruff. “Good call Sarge.”

“No need,” Crosshair speaks from their lineup. He waves the technology with a grin. “It’s in safe hands.”

Tech looks over with fallen jaw, eyes bulged out. “Have I ever mentioned how I love you all?”

“Not particularly,” Echo says.

“Good.”

Hunter shrugs, and waves. “Fire away, Wrecker.”

Hunter leads the group again, a pissy Tech refusing to ‘aid you neanderthals any more’. Sometimes he could be more dramatic than Crosshair, it was honestly impressive. Or it would be if it didn’t mean Hunter had to plunge his hand into the snow.

“Hey Sarge?” Wrecker asks.

“Yeah?”

“Now that Dooku is dead, shouldn’t the war be over?”

“No,” Tech answers, the first he’s spoken since the hike began. “There is still General Grievous as he’s taken control of the Separatist militia.”

“Right,” Hunter nods, “Even after that—“

“The Republic will need to discuss deals of diplomacy with the Separatist planets.”

“Yeah and—“

“And, there will no doubt be remnant supporters, extremists guerrillas in need of handling. On paper, the war will end. In reality, it may take many more months until the Separatists are defeated entirely.”

Hunter sighs. “What he said.”

“What happens to us?” Wrecker asks.

Hunter looks to Tech who shrugs, and sighs again. “We’ll get sent to deals with those extremists.”

“And after that?”

“After?”

“Like when there’s no more Seps. Then what?”

The group settles into this forced silence, crunching footsteps their only sound. It’s a prospect no clone likes to imagine to great extent. The After.

When the war is won and the people free. When the Jedi return to whatever it is they did before this whole mess started on Geonosis. Hunter was only eighteen when the war began, nine years out of the growth tube. This moment, this war, it’s all he and all his brothers have been groomed to know. 

Without it, what are they?

Men sure, clones, defects specifically. Though, Tech might be right, they’re objectively more useful than the regs. Surely the Republic will find some use for them. But then they’d be separated, for the first time in their lives…

He’s heard regs talk about it before, what they plan to do. Most have some idea of settling in groups in the Outer Rim, keeping to their own. The idiots—in his own opinion—have thought up fantasies of starting a family. Finding a nice girl or guy or whoever, having the whole married life, kids.

Yeah right.

The only one with those chances is Cut, and he’s already achieved it. The children aren’t even of his own, which is better for everyone in the long run. Clones are infertile, a specific choice of the Kaminoans. The last thing anyone needs is millions of the same men breeding the galaxy.

Talk about a disaster.

As for Hunter… He tries not to dwell on the subject of The After. He’ll stay with this brothers for as long as he can, forget about everyone, everything else.

“We’ll make our own way,” Hunter decides aloud. “Stick together.”

It gives no one comfort, but he isn’t sure if he was trying to.

“Hey! Hey!” A young boy runs to Clone Force 99, wearing a brown hooded robe and a mix of neutral colored dress under that. He waves frantic, a single distinct braid of brown hair waving with it.

“We’re fighting for him?” Wrecker mumbles.

“He clearly is a Padawan,” Tech says. “I’m certain the Jedi Master is close by.”

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” The boy stops in front of the group, hunched over and panting. “You’re the reinforcements aren’t you? Where’s the rest of your people?”

Crosshair snorts. “We’re all you’re getting kid.” Hunter shoves him in the stomach.

“I’m not a kid,” he retorts. “I’m Caleb. Caleb Dume.”

Hunter crouches slightly, giving a nod. “Good to meet you, Commander Dume,” he points to himself, then the others, “I’m Hunter, that’s Crosshair, Tech, Echo, and the giant’s Wrecker.”

Wrecker is the only one to wave.

“You guys are clones?” Caleb asks. “You don’t look like clones.”

“We get that a lot,” Hunter says. “Where’s your Master?”

Caleb point to where he came. “She’s with Capitan Grey—“

“We’re helping Grey?” Wrecker groans. “C’mon!”

“Can it Wrecker,” Hunter says. “Go on Commander.”

“We’re surrounded by B1s, I barely made it out. We were told there’d be more of you.”

“Don’t sweat it, we’re all you need,” Hunter stands, putting his helmet on. The rest of the group mimics. “Just lead the way, and we’ll clear it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure we’re sure.” He shrugs and looks back at the squad. “Bad Batch, it’s time to get to work.”

“I’m sorry, citizen. These matters are for the council to discuss.”

“I understand.”

“…Ahsoka. More to say, have you? A message for Skywalker, perhaps?”

“No, Master. Thank you. I’ll tell him myself when I see him.”

“May the Force be with you, Padawan… Appear you may, Odella.”

“I’m glad to see Ahsoka looks well,”  Odella says, turning on the holoprojector in her palm. “You know, her outfit looks to be inspired by Mandalorian—“

“Have you entered the home of Palpatine?” Mace asks, reappearing.

She swallows collecting spit, and nods. “I have.”

“And surveillance—“

“Is a nonissue. There’s no electricity in the entire place,” she motions behind her, “I had to come outside just for a signal.”

“And security?”

“Thought I was Talia, fixing up some… painting, I don’t know. Point is, he let me right in.”

“Good. As soon as you learn anything you call this channel immediately,” Mace says.

“I understand… Master, if I may ask one question—“

“I have to go. I will be awaiting your call.”

 He leaves just like that.

“Of course,” Odella sighs. “I should—“

“Odella,” Yoda interrupts. “What have you, to say?”

Her smile is close lipped, mimicking a straight line. “It’s nothing, Master.”

Yoda hums, shaky blue hologram nodding. “Lie, a Jedi does not.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not a Jedi right now,” Odella says, soft like the wind. She wipes her clean hands over the dark linen of her pants. Gloves bulge untouched in her pocket. Quinlan always said those with their skill should have them on at all times, a preventative measure of sorts.

He never wore his own.

“If not a Jedi, who are you?” Yoda asks.

She shrugs. “Myself.”

He looks at her with that hard quizzical stare often reserved for younglings or rebelling Padawan learners. She is both under his watch.

“And who is that?”

Odella remains mute, she doesn’t know.

If she is not a Jedi, she is no one. It may be for the best.

“Apparently I am my estranged sister Talia,” she cracks, forcing a full smile, teeth and all. “She’s a painter, not a Jedi.”

He grants her no relief of amusement.

She looks to the sky, the sun is due to set soon. “I should retreat inside before I gain suspicion. I’m sure your attention needed on Kashyyyk as well.”

Yoda sighs. She carries less pride from it than before. “Rasie you well Master Tarré did. Better than I. Separate you and her, never I should have done. Alive she still may be. Different you would be as well.”

She frowns, a line showing between her brows. “Do you not like how I am?”

He avoids a direct answer. “A strong Jedi you are, and belief in the Force you have. It is belief, respect for yourself you have not. Failed you in this manner, I have.”

“How would you rather I be? Like Elenia?”

“No,” he answers without thought. “Like yourself.”

Palpatine’s home resembles more of a decrepit palace than any other functional living space. Everything is a mix of dark grays and blacks with ostentatious accents of gold. Furniture is limited, a single chaise lounge of red velvet by an unlit fireplace. Odella walks with a small lantern given to her by the guards.

Paintings are large and scattered on the walls. Landscapes at night, wilted flowers, abstract splatterings Odella could never derive meaning from. She steps to the one closest to eye level, a delicate white writing of Talia Thoren painted in the corner.

She’s very talented, Odella decides internally. She herself was never very good in such creation. Though, she supposes she might have gotten a legitimate chance to explore if younglings were permitted arts and crafts past the age of four.

Talia must be close to her in birth order if the guards so easily allowed her entry. Or Odella looks far older than a twenty year old girl. She’d rather not ruminate on this option. Anakin did say the eldest of her family have settled with marriage and children—that she’d certainly prefer to not project on herself—perhaps Talia joined the lot of them.

I can’t believe I’m an aunt, Odella thinks. All the announcements and milestones she must have missed. Twelve different people with her blood, attending each others weddings, caring for another in sickness, playing pretend as children, ranting about the hardships of life as adults. She doesn’t believe any of them think of her, she hasn’t thought of them after all.

Maybe when this is all said and done, she’ll return to the home. Properly introduce herself, allow her parents to know of the young woman she’s become. That the Naboo Knight is more than an outdated promotional photo. That she has interests and passions and beliefs. She can meet her brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews if they’re around. The children would certainly be excited to meet a real Jedi, they always are.

It’s best she does none of this. In case they say she’s not met any expectations. Better to stay a fantasy.

Odella follows the wall further into the palace, feet clacking against marble. She has nothing but the Force to guide, but it’s yet to lead her astray so far, so she holds no worry. Her shadow stretches from the lanterns illumination of sunlight gold, turning her body long.

She steps into his office, a sharp contrast from the rest of the home. The lantern hangs on a hook by the doorway. It’s a cluttered space with knick knacks and bookshelves, actual paper thrown about, cobwebs in the corners. The room lacks windows and any other means of ventilation, a stuffy dusty mess.

“Palpatine is always so put together,” she mutters to herself. Everyone must have their secrets.

Going through it all in a regular means would take all night at the least, and if she’s being honest none of it looks all that important. Drafts of bills from his time as senator, personal finances, books on history, more paintings from Talia.

Odella hasn’t had many interactions with Sith, but surely they aren’t this boring.

“That’s why what we do is so cool,” she hears Quinlan say to her. One of his first lessons to their ability. “Everyone else sees what’s right there right now. We see how it used to be, what it means.”

She wants to call him a bastard, but her tongue feels heavy like cement.

Running her hands across the bookshelf, she pulls on various ones, hoping for a trigger. Nothing. She moves to the desk, searching under for a similar solution. Again she is empty handed.

No memories come either.

Huffing, she looks up and follows the light of the lantern. It hits the wall behind her, shining on another painting. This a portrait of Palpatine, dressed in his typical Chancellor garb. The white signature of her sisters stands prominent in the corner. So it was made recently, unremarkable if not for the fact that the Chancellor rarely visited Naboo. What with the war and all. It’s a wonderful likeness, if it were commissioned surely he could have it shipped to Coruscant. Not trapped in this decadent cell.

The shadow of the light begins above his eyes, his visible skin ghostly below it, the smile haunting. It hangs above the mantel of another fireplace, unlit candelabras on either side. This small slat is the cleanest portion of the whole room. Odella runs her finger along the dark wood, picking up no dust.

Interesting.

She grabs the lantern and a random note from the ground. Something about the pay schedule of the guards from seven cycles ago.

Putting the paper on fire, she quickly lights each candlestick and blows out the paper. The floor rumbles under her, and she leans against the desk, a swift panic. Planetary shockwaves never showed up in her research.

The fireplace lowers into the ground, candles now stood as spikes. A deep tunnel appears in its place, cement walls curved at the top. 

Grabbing the lantern again, Odella leans into the hole, seeing nothing but the abyss. Does this warrant a call to the Council? Most likely not. Mace would say she’s wasting time. For all she knows every politician has a secret backroom. The Temple has its fair share of tunnels and underground roadways after all. Palpatine is an esteemed man, if he had to make a quick escape this would be it.

A chill comes from the inside, prickling her tan skin. She feels a pull in her chest, her feet stepping forward without her brain realizing it.

Odella follows the path until she comes to a set of stairs, carefully stepping down. They’re steep, giving her issues with balance. Palpatine is healthy for his age but she’s a Jedi struggling on the endeavor. When was the last time he could do this? Before she was born certainly.

She comes into a much smaller room, matching the plainness of the home above. It’s all cement, she calls out to the void to hear an echo of herself in return. The lantern does nothing here, so it’s set down. From her hip and under her cape, Odella grabs a hilt of her sabers. Purple light fills the room, and she has to hold it an arms length away to avoid being blinded. 

The floor is smeared in deep red paint—or she assumes—circles and scribbled illegible aurabesh all alone it and its walls. Pedestals stand scattered, ancient artifacts on display. Books, weapons, metal made masks.

“Put your gloves on during creepy investigations,” she hears from Quinlan. “You don’t wanna touch the wrong thing and get sent into shock. Believe me.”

Spite enters her soul. Fuck him.

“Right then,” Odella says to herself. “Let’s get to work.”

A cruel fact of psychometry: It was never meant for dealing with Sith. Memories and emotions are meant to be pleasant and kind, not rotten and cruel. And so, it is by then a similar truth that memories and emotions are more often than not just that. Rotten and cruel. 

She’s undone by a single touch to a scroll, the farthest thing in the room, not even getting a chance to open it. Everything is a momentum of flashes from decades ago. Palpatine, a figure of shadow, ritual candles, red plasma light.

Ultimately, the gloves wouldn’t have done much but lessen the torture. The dark side penetrates however it can into the soul.

The pain is unlike one she’s ever felt before. Her entire body is captive to a chill, to nails in skin and crippling agony. As she falls unconscious, splayed across the concrete floor, her head slams against the stone. Her lightsaber throws itself out of her hand, rolling across the room with its violet hum. Her spotted white vision fades to black with only one final thought:

Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord.

Chancellor Palpatine is… Darth Sidious.

Next: ORDER SIXTY-SIX

[vivi-scera]

"Five years ago, were you the leader when the Troupe slaughtered the Kurta of the Scarlet Eyes?"

1.Lifecycle of the Mole-Woman, Kim Fu. 2. @ceonnibal, twitter. 3. A Letter to Maria Casares, Albert Camus. 4 & 5. @WAGO_00, twitter. 6. [you fit into me], Margaret Atwood. 7 & 13. @qingqiye, twitter. 8. Jawab al-Kalfi, Ibn al-Qayyim. 9. @kishibe. 10. The Erl-King, Angela Carter. 11. @se_5eeeee, twitter. 12. For Girls Who Aren't Interesting in Being Easy on the Eyes, Fabiola 14. Bad and Beautiful, Beau Taplin. 15. @ChibuNyam, twitter. 16. Heart to Heart, Mer_Curia (me!!)

[jasmine-tea-latte]

you're the sun to me - chapter 4

Written for @zutaramonth Day 14 - Exposed

After a recent string of assassination attempts on his life, Fire Lord Zuko has little choice but to call in a favor from an old ally to help find the ones responsible.

But old habits die hard, and June once again proves to be the bane of his existence by threatening to expose one of his secrets...

Or, June publicly and loudly questions the Fire Lord why he hasn't married the waterbender yet, right in front of his scandalized council's salad.

Set 10 years after the war's end and is canon compliant up to a certain point.

Read on AO3