#Star Wars Fan fic

[leenathegreengirl]

Between Hearts and Ruin Event

So, ya girl has been experiencing some Technical difficulties lately…Here is a link to the full book version, if y’all are curious as to what’s been going on.

My bestie@legacygirlingreen has the full scoop on her blog too.

💕💜Tag List💜💕

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[99tech99]

me, writing a 1.5k word fan fic that will be read by 10 people, liked by 3, and reblogged by 0:

spends an hour researching tie defenders to make sure i have the correct specs for when i mention it (one time), for when my fic takes place within the rebels/thrawn trilogy timeline

george lucas:

i dont give a fuck. no fucks. literally not a single solitary fuck. about anything. in fact i want to make sure there is not a fuck to be found within 100 yards of anywhere star wars is being written, rehearsed, shot, or edited.

[twinklerei]

So- I was writing my fic, which I wont enter in too much details, but I was thinking, in this Au where Padme lives, and Obi Wan thinks he killed Anakin in mustafar and he doesnt know he is alive as Vader, obviusly Padme thinks the same, that her husband died in mustafar by Obi Wan Kenobi.

So idk how to characterize this, would Padme have resent to Obi Wan for "killing Anakin"? Like I know she knows that he falled to the dark side and that- but in her last words she thinked that there still was good in him, so I dont think she would want him to die- but- Im confused and idk what to do.

Please writers and readers, help this is important for the fic.

[skellymom]

"Cup Of Caf"

The Bad Batch CROSSHAIR One Shot

Crosshair x NON GENDERED Reader (PLEASE put YOURSELF into this story! <3)

Background: Crosshair makes it to Pabu with all of his brothers and sister. Will he open himself up to another? What's his future there?

Word Count: 2.1K

Warning: Really none. This is sweetness, some angsty fluff, and character growth. Purposely wrote this piece for ANY reader! You can take this tale as friendship or the start of a blossoming love relationship. And, I purposely wrote NO GENDER/NO SPECIFIC SEXUALITY/POSSIBLY EVEN AGENDER into this story. It's about healing, sharing, growing, and decisions at one of many crossroads in life. Sometimes it's painful, but growth can be.

This One Shot is dedicated to Crosshair Fans, those of you struggling with hard decisions in life, loneliness, and to the amazing @lightspringrain whose art was one of my inspirations for this story.

(Her Etsy shop: https://www.etsy.com/shop/LightSpringRain Just placed my order for the holidays!

(Credit: Dividers by the talented @saradika)

The leaves of the Cascade Tree rippled lazily in the ocean breeze.  Its boughs lifted just enough to reveal a man with a scarred head sitting under its canopy at the picnic table. 

You were surprised to see someone sitting there at... “your” table.  Not really yours, but no one else ever came down this far from the cliffs to watch the surf foam and roil against the shores of Pabu.  Every morning walking down to enjoy your cup of caf before starting the day.  Today, you were testing out a new mug, fresh off the pottery wheel: Jet black clay with metallic silver phases of the moon depicted in striking detail across its surface.  Debated selling this piece, hardly ever keeping anything for yourself. 

The man’s back was facing you at quiet approach.  He side-eyed you suspiciously, scowling.  Immediately recognized him as the newcomer to the island that arrived with his brothers and one sister.  Phee Genoa gushed about the one named, “Tech”.  She called him “Brown Eyes”.  This was the “Grumpy Brother” and was already gaining a reputation as anti-social. 

“Uh...hi.” 

Silence and unchanging side-eye.  He didn’t move from the spot and clearly wanted to be left alone. 

“Ok, leaving.” 

No reply.  He turned back around to stare at the crashing surf. 

The next morning you arrived with your fully vetted new mug of caf to find...The Grumpy Man back in “your” spot. 

Kriff...what to do?  This was awkward.  While feeling rather put out and wanting to sit alone, you kind of felt for the guy.  The gossip around town was he had been through a lot before arriving in Pabu. 

Looking down at the untouched cup of caf:  How many people, yourself included, came to this planet looking for solace and safety?  How many of the residents of Pabu arrived with baggage before they healed and found community here?  How long did it take to be comfortable with others again? 

Your heart went out to the man all by himself sitting there.  It was an amazing view and perfect place to be alone. 

He turned, almost like he had heard your brain humming.  Again, scowling over his shoulder.  You stepped closer, but he didn’t budge and kept the suspicious side-eye.  You approached the table and set the steaming mug next to him. 

He seemed briefly surprised, with his features softening slightly. 

“Good morning, have a fresh cup on me.” 

You awkwardly walked away, leaving him alone with the caf.  Heart hammering in your chest.  

After closing the pottery studio, you decided to stop by “your” spot on the way home.  The Grumpy Man was gone, but the mug was in the same position you left it.  You assumed he thought it a weird gesture and refused to touch the mug.  But you realized the coffee was gone and there was something in the bottom of the mug.  Turning it upside down, a seashell fell out.  A very pretty one too. It brought a smile to your face. 

Next morning, you looked forward to engaging with Grumpy Man again.  The black and silver mug was washed and filled with hot caf for him.  Stopping at the local bakery you purchased a large cinnamon pastry on the way. 

Grumpy was there.  He didn’t turn when approached.  You set the mug with the pastry perched on top of it next to him. 

“Enjoy.” Walking away. 

“Did you like it?”  His voice was low, raspy, snakelike. 

“What?”  Stopping in your tracks and turning slightly to answer.  “Oh...yes.  Thank you.” 

“Hmmm...” 

That was all.  He said no more and kept his eyes on the crashing surf. 

You left and walked onward to the studio. 

After close, you walked back to retrieve the mug.  It was empty of coffee and now and contained freshly picked flowers. 

This carried on for several weeks.  Every morning you brought him fresh caf and something to eat.  After all, he was skin and bones.  Every day something different: a fat muffin, breakfast sandwich, fruit, grain-meal with honey, meats, cheeses, brunch cookies.  It was a culinary journey of Pabu, as you picked up things from local shops, or even threw together items from memory of family recipes.   

It was almost an obsession to keep this man guessing the food he would be eating.  Local shopkeepers noticed you out and about more, enquiring about your sudden social spree.  Tongues were starting to wag on the island.  You didn’t pay attention to gossip and could care less.   

Grumpy seemed to have a decent appetite.  You were quite sure he was indeed consuming the food. Of course, he could have thrown it down the ravine to the fish and sea birds, and you would be none the wiser.  It was obviously evident his man was thriving as he filled out, less bony, skin no longer a sickly pallor, and his hair was growing back.  Hair as silver as the moon. 

Every evening he would leave something in the mug as a gift.  An unspoken thanks for your kindness: 

The split egg of a sea bird, a marine fossil stone, polished sea glass, a cascade tree seed, feathers, bleached bones, a preserved Pabu Butterfly with striking iridescent wings.  He even left odd items that suggested a sense of humor.  The persnickety land crab attempting to fight you for the mug as its new home. The small octopus bobbing in the salt water filled cup...who inked you in the face. 

Every day was a welcome surprise.  

You sat the mug and Meiloorun next to Grumpy. There were two covered plates on the table. 

He turned around to look you square in the eye.  “Sit with me.”  It wasn’t a question, but not an order either.  “Please.” 

This was surprising and you settled in next to Grumpy on the bench. 

He slid over a plate and uncovered it: Two stacked grain cakes with a whipped dairy smile and two berry eyes.  They were doused in rainbow candy sprinkles, sitting in a huge amount of sugary syrup. 

“Wow...uh.  I didn’t take you for a happy face kinda guy.”  Suddenly regretting the remark and holding your breath. 

He rolled his eyes and exhaled. “My sister made them.  SOMEONE in town tipped her off that I’m not alone during my ‘Alone Time’.” 

You burst out laughing.  How could you not? 

“Gets better.”  He uncovered the second plate: Two cooked sea bird eggs sunny side up with strips of cooked meat centered below them.  The “food face” was doused in ketchup to resemble a bullet hole to the head hemorrhaging blood.  “I’m more on board with this design.” 

You howled with laughter.  Grumpy cracked a small smile. 

“YOUR sister did THIS???  THAT innocent child?” 

“Mhm...” He snickered.  “Never.  She breathes and farts rainbows.  This is my brother's masterpiece.” 

The rainbow remark had you roaring again.  Wiping away tears.  His delivery was so unexpected.   

He handed you a fork.  Now that ALL his face was visible, you noticed the tattoo. 

He produced his own fork.  “Let's stab out the eyes and feast upon their faces.” 

“Wait!”  You lifted the mug of caf.  “First, we must drink the blood of our enemies and share the names of the victors.”  You were feeling giddy now...never considered maybe taking this Imagined Breakfast Massacre too seriously. 

It didn’t seem to matter to Grumpy.  In fact, he was smiling.  

“Y/N” You took a healthy sip of the caf and passed the mug to him. 

“Crosshair” He gulped the caf, giving you a mischievous look. 

From that morning on you brought the cup of caf to share and HE brought the food.  His sister and brother would cook or bake for Crosshair and “his friend”.  According to him, they were overjoyed that he had not been spending his quiet days alone.  Then started incorporating his own ideas into the recipes.  Crosshair would regale you with “Tales of the Kitchen” interactions with him and his siblings as they cooked.  He shared secret ingredients, always asked your opinion on the recipes, and how they could be improved. 

However, after the food was eaten and the chatter died he would stare wistfully at the ocean.  Deep in thought, mulling over something.  You would ask and he would deflect with another topic.  Not wanting to push things, you let it go. 

This sharing of food and caf carried on for several months.  Sometimes you were able to get bits of information out of him:  He was a military man before coming to Pabu and was in a special highly trained squad.  You asked about his mother and father.  He shrugged and said his parentage didn’t matter and that only his sister and brothers were important.  You carefully asked about the scar on the right side of his head, now fully covered with thick, unruly silver hair.  He glossed over it as an injury and no big deal.  He deflected by asking you about yourself.  This man was perfectly happy to talk less and hear you speak more.  He listened intently and threw brief tidbits in and sometimes his signature “Mmhmm.” 

Still, he seemed haunted by something and absolutely refused to talk about it.  You sensed it never really left his mind and constantly grappled with something deep.  Something he regretted with all his being. 

You both sat at the table watching the surf, taking turns sipping from the mug of caf.  The breakfast platter was eaten and empty.  He was unusually quiet.   

Then he finally spoke. “I’m leaving Pabu.” 

“What?”  You, shocked. It seemed so sudden.  “Why???” 

“I...”  He sighed and looked down at the table.  “Need to make amends for certain...things.”  His expression was one of thinly veiled shame. 

“Don’t know what to say...” Struggling for words.  “How long will you be gone?” 

“I’m not coming back.”  His brows furrowed sadly.  There was a lot of emotion, and you could see the difficulty he had expressing it. 

Speechless, you stared ahead and watched the surf pull away from the shoreline.  There would be no more shared caf and breakfasts with this man.  The days of looking forward with anticipation to the mornings would end. 

You both sat for some time in silence, listening to the waves.  In...out...in...out...as if the island was breathing. 

Finally, you felt his gaze.  Turning to meet the saddest, deepest brown eyes.  Such a pitiful yet touching display that hit you even harder in the gut. 

“I’m...grateful to have shared the time we had together.  I don’t say that lightly.”  His hand slowly advanced palm up on the table begging to be joined with another. 

You slid your hand in his and squeezed.  “I’ll miss you.”  Tears forming in your eyes. 

He squeezed back, nodded, then let go.  Getting up from the table he whispered “Goodbye.”  

“Take this!  I made it for you...even if I hadn’t known it yet.”  You handed him the empty mug. 

He took it with a look of surprise.  Then he turned away before you could see the tears in his eyes. 

But you saw them.  You will never forget that.   

Then he was gone.   

You sat the rest of the day listening to the ocean breathe.  Watching the sun make its progression across the sky, finally dipping below the horizon.  You walked home under the stars of Pabu...one of them a low fast-moving light: A ship departing the planet. 

Sleep was fretful.  Finally frustrated with tossing and turning, you got up, dressed and walked to the studio.  Firing up the lights, set the holo on your favorite “create playlist”, and sitting down at the potter’s wheel.  Tonight, there would be a new design even if it meant staying up all night to mold, dry, glaze, and fire this creation.  You threw yourself into the task, singing, and occasionally wiping away a stray tear. 

The sun rose over Pabu.  You washed out the new creation: A mug of blazing crimson red, raised relief of the sun, with a magnificent metallic gold corona.  Fresh caf brewed in the studio.  You poured it steaming hot into the mug.  Then closed the studio for the day, leaving a message in the window when it would reopen, and proceeded down to “your” table. 

You expected to be alone once again...however...there was someone sitting under the Cascade Tree. 

She was blond, dark skinned and looked to be a young teenager.  You could tell she had been crying. 

“Hello?” 

“Sorry...Just wanted some privacy.  My brother would come here to sit and be alone.”  She moved to get up. 

“You don’t have to leave.  Please stay.” 

She spied the mug in your hand, and the pieces fell into place. 

“You’re Y/N!” Her eyes widened.  “He talked about you a LOT.  He’s never done that with anyone before.” 

Warm intense feelings welled up inside you.  They spilled out across your face in a smile. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Omega.” 

You set the mug of caf down in front of her. 

“Well Omega, looks like I made this for you...even though I hadn’t known it yet.” 

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[jazz-fics]

Title: Walking the Wire

Pairing: Captain Rex x Jedi!Reader

Plot: There’s a thin line between insubordination and loyalty and a clone belonging to the Republic is walking it with a Jedi sworn to celibacy.

Warning: Mild spice, closed door romance, war, takes place during the Clone Wars, song fic inspired by Walking the Wire by Imagine Dragons

It had been perhaps a month since Y/N was partnered with Anakin Skywalker and his Padawan Ashoka Tono. That meant she hadn’t seen Rex in a long time. The Order prefers her at the temple where she can teach the younglings.

When she steps foot on the command ship occupied by the 501st and sees Rex conversing with Anakin her heart nearly stops in her chest at the sight of him. 

Ashoka catches her when she stops, nearly bumping into her. “Everything alright, Master?” She asks, a brow arched in suspicion yet concern. Y/N merely nods as she separates herself from Ashoka and busies herself not far from the group. She can’t be distracted.

All bets are off though when she feels Rex standing next to her. Even in his armor she can feel his presence. The Force never gives her peace and always has to alert her of the man she can’t have.

Do you feel the same when I'm away from you? (Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh) Do you know the line that I'd walk for you? (Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh) We could turn around or we could give it up But we'll take what comes, take what comes

“It’s been a while, General.” His voice, the same yet different from the other clones. The only version of the clone voice that can send shivers down her spine purely because it’s him. 

She missed him. She could remember their last encounter. When she had stolen him away in her quarters of the ship and his hands roamed her body. It was the few of many other times she had broken the Code for him. With so little time with him it felt so much like everything wanted them close yet far.

Oh, the storm is raging against us now (ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh) If you're afraid of falling, then don't look down (ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh) But we took the step, oh, we took the leap And we'll take what comes, take what comes

“Yes, it has,” she agrees. Her pinky meets his as she stands closer to him. His heart skips in his chest when she touches him. He could kiss her if he was allowed. He could kiss her and take her somewhere private to show her exactly how much he missed her.

“General,” he hesitated to continue as he doesn’t want to look suspicious near any other Jedi or clone. She looks at him expectantly.

“Yes, Captain?”

“I need to see you in private to…discuss things. Yes, to discuss things. It’s been a while.” Rex looks surer of himself now as he says this. 

Feel the wind in your hair Feel the rush way up here We're walking the wire, love We're walking the wire, love We couldn't be higher up We're walking the wire, wire, wire

Y/N could feel her heart in her chest as Rex’s gloved fingers slid up her arm when they had found a more private location.

“You know, we can’t be caught,” she says hesitantly. She had never had a moment with him like this on the ship. 

“Who says we’ll be caught?” He asks before using his teeth to take off his gloves. “If we do…” he takes a step closer, leaning in so his lips graze the skin of her neck. “We’re discussing something confidential.” 

There's nights we had to just walk away (ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh) And there's tears we'll cry, but those tears will fade (ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh) It's a price you pay when it comes to love And we'll take what comes, take what comes

His lips nipped the skin of her neck, causing her knees to weaken. As Rex slowly kissed down her neck she made sure her quarters were locked, extending a hand to the door.

Seeing her hand is up, he pins her wrist over her head. “The door locked, love?” He asks. When given the proper answer he grins before returning his mouth back to her skin. 

She couldn’t contain her moan. She missed him so much it hardly feels right not to show him.

Feel the wind in your hair Feel the rush way up here We're walking the wire, love We're walking the wire, love We couldn't be higher up We're walking the wire, wire, wire So, look out down below Look out down below Look out down below Walking the wire, wire, wire So, look out down below

“Please,” she gasps. “Don’t tease me so much.”

“Your damn existence is a tease, love,” his gruff voice replies. Here his teeth are nipping her skin to mark her from under her tunic collar. “I’ll mark you for all to see someday, after the war. 

She felt her back against the wall and he put his knee between her thighs to keep her there. 

Oh, I'll take your hand when thunder roars And I'll hold you close, I'll stay the course I promise you from up above That we'll take what comes, take what comes, love We're walking the wire, love We're walking the wire, love We couldn't be higher up (couldn't be, couldn't be) We're walking the wire, wire, wire So, look out down below Look out down below (couldn't be, couldn't be) Look out down below Walking the wire, wire, wire So, look out down below We're walking the wire We're walking the wire We're walking the wire, wire, wire

The bed creaked as he lays her on it. It’s much softer than the wall, and better suited for what he has intentions of next. 

[againstacecilia]

Because You Left

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Rating: This one's for anybody, but the whole blog is 18+ for sure.

Warnings: Lovers to strangers, fighting, angst, swearing, both of them are probably idiots but *shrug*

A/N: Holy wow it's been a minute! I've had this one in the vault for a while but just never did anything with it. There's a happy ending as well, so I can post that if there's interest, but I'm pushing myself to not tie everything up so nicely and let the tough emotions sit so you get ✨angst✨. We also don't need to talk about how I'm working through some things about an old flame with this one soooo hush. Unbeta'd, no use of y/n.

It’s an unusually quiet night on base, lamplight flickering through the hallways and muffled laughter sneaking under doors as people take advantage of the stillness. Your footsteps echo loudly, an intrusion in the calm as you hurry to your post, breathless by the time you arrive.

“Sorry I’m late,” you begin, not looking at your watch partner, “I couldn’t find-”

“Not like you to be late, Captain,” a familiar voice interrupts.

Your stomach flops as you meet Poe’s gaze. “I… I’m sorry, Commander.” Your words falter, the memory of your last encounter momentarily clouding your mind…

“Find somewhere else to sleep tonight,” Poe says quietly at the door, not looking at you, “I’m busy.”

“Of course you are. Seems like you’ve been busy a lot these days. Busy with everything but finding time for me.”

Poe doesn’t say anything as he turns his back to you, pressing the button to close the door to his quarters. The click of the door sliding into place echoes deep in your bones as you’re left alone in the hallway…

That was months ago. You’d immediately requested a service change to a new squadron and done everything in your power to avoid seeing him again. Night shifts and dangerous recon runs, anything to make sure your paths never crossed again. 

“No need to apologize, I won’t tell anyone.” Poe winks at you with a grin. “So, it’s been a while, how have you been?”

Shaking the memory from your mind, you begin preparing for your watch. “Fine. You?”

“I’ve been okay.” He watches you gather your things, eyes trained on your every move.

“Mmm,” you respond non-committedly, shoving a flashlight and spare battery pack for your blaster into your bag before tugging the straps over your shoulders. “Well, I should be off. Being late and all.”

“Actually, we should be off. Your shift buddy called out so I’m his replacement.”

Fantastic. “Commander Dameron on night patrol?”

“Everyone pitches in where they’re needed,” he responds, hoisting his pack. 

Six hours on watch with Poe was the last thing you wanted to do, but he was right. Everyone was expected to, and for the most part did, pitch in where they were needed. If this was how you were expected to help the Resistance then you’d grit your teeth and get through it. 

“Let’s get going then.” You’re out the door and making your way to the watchtower before he can reprimand you for speaking to your superior like that. 

Luckily, the calm seems to be holding and the watchtower is nearly serene in the clear night. Stars twinkle above you in constellations you were still learning and the breeze was a song you never tired of. Lost in the ebb and flow of nature around you, you don’t notice the time pass.

Poe’s voice breaks the silence for the first time in hours. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you nod, keeping your eyes on the wilderness beyond the base.

“What happened? With us?” 

Heat creeps up the back of your neck and the breeze seems to stop at the question. Like the whole base was waiting on bated breath for your response. “We just… Grew apart. That’s all.”

You hear Poe shift in his seat. “No, I don’t think that’s it. Not entirely.”

“What do you want me to say, Poe?” “I want you to look at me and tell me the truth.”

“I told you the truth.” Your clipped response is bitter on your tongue and you keep your body facing away from him. “We grew apart and the war got in the way of everything else.”

“This isn’t just some distance thing, tell me what happened.”

“I have nothing else to say.”

“You’re still not telling me the truth. I know you, why did you suddenly-”

“Because you left!” The words rip out of you and you finally stand, whirling around to face him. “Because you left me, Poe.”

Indignation blazes across his face. “I never left you, not any longer than a mission required of me!”

“That’s not what I mean!” Both your voices are too loud for the quiet watch, but you don’t care. Emotions flare and dance in your veins, demanding to be released. “You stopped giving a damn and then kicked me out of your room and told me you were busy. You stopped fighting for me. For us. You left one day and never really came back.”

The silence seems to echo as your words fade from the lone tower, open to the night sky. “I’d been trying for weeks at that point, Poe, and you kept pushing me away. So I stopped trying because you obviously didn’t want me around!”

“When have I ever said I don’t want you around?” He’s also standing, stepping into your orbit with his hands extended to his sides.

“You didn’t have to say it.” Stomping away from him to the rail of the tower, you lean against the weathered wood, “It was painfully clear.”

He follows you and grips your shoulders, spinning you to face him. “I’ve been out of my damn mind trying to be a leader in all of this. You know what Leia expects of me, you know what’s at stake-”

“Of course I do!” You shake his hands off you and push him away, “But I thought it would be exactly because of those reasons that you’d give a fuck about me. I thought, for a moment, that I was one of those things you were fighting for.”

“You were! You still are, and you always have been!”

“Just stop.” Your voice is trembling with rage and pain; searing white flames lick through the marrow of your bones. “Whether you meant to or not, you made it very clear where your priorities are and I’ve made my peace with the fact that this,” a sweeping gesture to the sleeping base below, “is your priority. Not me. And I shouldn’t be. I mean, hell, what am I compared to the entire Resistance?”

Needing to put any amount of distance between you, you make your way to the other side of the tower and settle into a chair, facing away from Poe. The noise from the breeze and insects comes back into focus as you curl your legs against your chest. 

After a moment, Poe’s voice reaches you from across the tower, “Do you know why I told you I was busy that night? Why I told you to go sleep somewhere else?”

You don’t respond, hugging your legs tighter as the anger starts to fizzle into sadness.

“I told you to leave because Leia had informed me that we had just lost an entire squadron to an ambush in the Mid-Rim. I had gotten some intel that there was going to be an unprotected shipment of weapons in the area and that group was sent out to get them. It was a trap, and my bad information got them all killed.” Poe stayed away from you through his explanation, his voice drifting by more quietly with each word. “None of them made it home. Because of me.”

The urge to go to him, to wrap him in your arms and comfort him, nearly overwhelms you for a moment before he continues. “I told you to leave because I didn’t want you, of all people, to see me break. I shattered that night, and when the sun rose and I realized that I’d made a huge mistake, you had already transferred and I didn’t see you again for weeks.”

Silent tears fall from your eyes at his admissions; the truths he laid in front of you. “So I let you go,” he whispers, “because it felt like some sort of karmic justice to lose you for what happened to those fighters.”

You find your voice again and say, “I’m sorry about the mission, I didn’t know… But that doesn’t make any of this better. It doesn’t excuse the fact that you didn’t even try.”

“You haven’t let me try.” His quiet voice begins to turn to ice.

“How was I supposed to know you even wanted to? You knew where my quarters were, you have access to all my orders; you could’ve come talk to me at any time and yet you didn’t.”

Heavy footsteps move away toward the edge of the tower. Without turning, you can picture his face in the starlight: his eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, muscles in his jaw and neck jumping as he clenches his teeth. “You said I didn’t try. That I made it obvious I didn’t want you around. Well, Captain,” he spits your rank into the night, “you made it pretty clear as well that you didn’t want to be near me. Switching squads and dodging me at every turn.”

“You have no right-” you begin, but Poe cuts you off.

“I have every right!” His yell echoes off the gently rolling hills surrounding the base. “I have every damn right when you throw accusations in my face like this. You wanna talk about someone leaving or giving up? How about we talk about how all it took was one bad night for me for you to completely push me away?”

Rage begins simmering in your gut again, bringing you to your feet and back across the tower. “You never gave me any indication that you were dealing with more than the normal amount of stress. I tried everything I could to ease that stress for you; bringing you food when you were drowning in paperwork in your room, letting you fuck me every night even when you couldn’t look me in the eye, ignoring every red flag just to try and prove to you that I was there through it all. And it was never enough.”

“Well, I guess that’s our answer, then.” Poe keeps his gaze locked with yours, eyes gleaming with fury and sadness.

Your heart shatters. “I… I guess it is.”

“I’ll send someone else up here.” Poe lingers for a heartbeat, fists clenched at his side, before turning and heading down the stairs, leaving you alone. 

You stare out over base, watching Poe’s form disappear from view in the night, each step a death knell in your bones. Any future you daydreamed about fades with each passing breath. By the time Poe’s replacement makes it up the tower, the early morning wind has dried your tears and frozen a thick casing of ice around your heart.

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

This probably isn't going to go any where, but it was a fun evening, lol.

Okay but if I did:

Premise would be working in the bordello version of 79s... Guess what I called it? Anywho, it would mostly just start out as a brothel simulator with clone smut.

I'd begin by just making some shiny's (various personalities, part of the challenge would be feeling them out and deciding how to act for them) but then slowly add in named clones, romance story lines, special event characters and hell, other OCs if its wanted.

These are the only assets I have for this lol.

-----

Some tastful lil'tags

@feral-ferrule @cloneflo99 @thecoffeelorian

[wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart]

The Sith

Part 4

As promised, more of The Sith

This time inspired by some of these prompts from @creativepromptsforwriting I think there will be eight this time round.

***.

"Your eyes are already saying yes, now I just need your mouth to tell me the same."

Instead of giving him what he wanted, his stubborn Jedi closed those stunning blue eyes, his brow furrowed in persistent concentration to deny him what he knew they both craved. 

Damn the stubborn boy, he really should know better.

"Darling," he purred and pressed even closer, placing a possessive hand on the younger man's hip. The Jedi not even flinched at their close proximity but remained obstinate still. 

"Do not seek to resist me, it is pointless."

He leaned forwards until their lips were mere inches apart, finally getting a reaction, even if it was just a harsh intake of breath.

“Give in, dear one,” he coaxed him with a honey sweet voice, dripping dirty and wicked promises. Triumph rushed through him when blue eyes met his again, defeat eclipsing them along with a far more passionate emotion.

"Say it," he ordered once more, his voice nothing more than a breath.

"Yes, master."

2. 3. 4. 5.

Master posts for parts 1, 2 and 3

[darth-jess]

Alright I normally stick to charcoal on paper but I've really wanted to experiment with digital art lately, so while I had a bad case of writer's block I decided to draw how I imagine Evil Padmé from my fic. (Disclaimer: I’m not an artist)

If you're not familiar with my fic (Beauty & Rage) this apparition haunts Vader constantly– at first he believes it's some manipulation the Emperor created to torture him, but in truth she is a manifestation of Vader's own darkness. She is actually Vader's own creation, his own way of torturing himself for what he has done.

Details:

The dress is supposed to be Padmé's wedding dress, but it is black and corrupted. Her wearing the dress is another way Vader tortures himself, as it is a reminder of the promises he made to her and how he failed her. In his twisted, broken mind, he sees that Anakin was not strong enough to save her, and so Anakin did not deserve her. The "apparition" wearing this dress is an insult, it is his way of blaming himself, a visual reminder that he could not save her/that he killed her. This image tells him: the moment she married you, her fate was sealed. You did this. Her wedding dress may as well have been her funeral shroud. (This is not exactly true, but that doesn't matter to Vader. Because the purpose of this is self loathing, the purpose of this is making himself pay for what he's done.)

Her lips are always painted red, red like Vader's lightsaber, red like the blood of the innocent lives Vader has taken. (I also gave her slightly elongated incisors in the drawing, it felt right and definitely made her look a bit more evil, but I haven't described that in my fic… maybe I will in a future chapter?)

Her eyes are amber-gold, flecked with red. They are Sith eyes, like Vader's.

I wanted to draw her smiling, especially because it is nothing like Padmé's real smile.

Everything about this image of her is a reflection of how Vader has corrupted himself. The apparition of Evil Padmé in Beauty & Rage is meant to represent Vader’s darkest self, as well as his broken psyche.

[liam-neesons-best-girl]

Confessions {Qui-Gon Jinn x Reader}

approx. 1,000 words

Summary: You and Anakin blow off some steam by getting drunk together. When you return back for the night you are greeted by Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan Kenobi who insist you get to bed. As Qui-Gon prepares you to sleep, he hears your drunken confessions; of love and insecurities.

Warnings: F! reader, insecurities, drunkenness, (Anakin and reader are in their 20s), reader and Anakin are platonic, angst, 18+

As you return back to the grounds from your impulsive bar hopping with Anakin, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are the first people you see. Disappointment is clearly written all over their faces, since two of their best Jedis are coming home past curfew and three sheets to the wind.

"sshhhh Ani, someone could hear us," you giggle out whisper yelling as he trips over his feet like a new born giraffe.

"Sorry, which way do we go," he asked with a tilted head, not sure if he could recognize the corridors in the dark.

"This way, follow m-" you started as you turned left but were cut off by the strong chest of Master Qui-Gon who was just around the corner.

Behind Qui-Gon was Obi-Wan, who could not hold back his giddiness. He wasn't angry at your antics. He loved that you and Anakin were acting like normal young people but had to put on a poker face for Qui-Gon as he handed down punishments.

Your cheeks were flush, scarlet with embarrassment for getting caught by someone you respected so highly. You were always trying to please Qui-Gon. It was an unspoken truth that you were his favorite padawan; because of your discipline in learning the ways of the force and in the longing glances you both exchanged over the past many months.

Qui-Gon's piercing gaze fixes on Anakin, and then shifts to you, his brow furrowing as he detects something beneath the surface. He knew that bar hopping wasn't your idea. Anakin was corrupting the sweet girl beside him, and Qui-Gon was not going to stand for it.

"Anakin, Obi-Wan will escort you back to your quarters," Qui-Gon ordered, putting an end to the night's activities. "And you," he turned and lowered his gaze to your sheepish figure, "come with me."

You nod in comply and Qui-Gon gently takes you by the hands, leading you to your bedroom. Yawning the whole way there, Qui-Gon's anger fades into protectiveness, just wanting to make sure you don't hurt yourself and sleep off as much as you can of what will be a massive hangover.

He shuts the door quietly, as to not startle you with any loud sounds and sees you struggling to remove your tunic. Your arms are stuck three quarters of the way out and the twisting of your shoulders isn't making the fabric roll up your back as you hoped it would.

"hhmph! Qui, could you help me, pretty pleasssssse," you slur out to him for assistance. He doesn't want to risk any impropriety but seeing you struggle was enough to throw all of the norms out the window.

"Relax your arms," he said, reaching for the hem of the shirt to pull over your head. Free from the straight jacket tunic, you stood before him in your lilac lace bra.

He let out a shallow breath as he looked down at you, remarking to himself how soft and cuddly your skin appears to be, and the way the lace of the bra seems to be painted on your breasts, fitting perfectly to the swell of your chest.

In no time flat you have removed your bottoms and exposed you cheeky bum to him, clad in lilac panties, matching your bra.

Oblivious to the tension of the situation, since your mentor is a foot away from your practically naked form you ask, "would you tuck me in?"

He nods, and follows you to the edge of the bed. He watches you cuddle into the silky soft sheets and nuzzle up to your pillow. Qui-Gon loosely drapes the blanket around your form and shift to get up as you reach for his wrist.

"Is there something else you need of me?" he asked, thinking you would ask for another blanket or for a glass of water.

You hesitate, feeling a wave of insecurity wash over you. "Can you… stay? Just for a little while? Just to talk?"

"What is it you would like to talk about?" he inquired, knowing you already confide in him as a mentor for your Jedi training. For some reason he could sense that this would be a different kind of conversation.

"Qui-Gon?" you say barely a whisper.

"Yes?" he replies, his gaze fixed on you with unwavering attention.

"Am… am I pretty?" you ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

"What?" Qui-Gon's brow furrows in confusion. "Of course, you are," he says, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "You are beautiful, both inside and out."

Tears fell at the corners of your eyes as Qui-Gon's words wash over you, colliding with some of the negative feelings of your own body's image in your mind. The alcohol had gotten the best of your emotions.

"Then why… why don't boys like me?" you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "I mean, I try to be nice and friendly but no body seems to look at me. Like I train, and I train, and I train but I am still soft and nervous around people. I feel like this is a never ending cycle of disappointment. I'm too ugly for my own good."

You end your rant with a heavy heart and a long silent pause. You slowly lift your head from where it is on your pillow to see if Qui-Gon left. Instead, his gaze meets yours with a flicker of angry passing through his eyes.

"They are complete fools," he said passionately. "They fail to see you for your truest form. You tower over them in intellection, and float by them with elegance and grace."

"But Qui-" you sit up and raise your hand to stop him but he continues.

"No, you should never feel less than because these dumb boys don't see what I see in you."

For the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you are worthy of love.

"I'm sorry for getting so worked up. Its time to rest now," he says, settling in next to you in bed, sat up, and rubbing your back soothingly over the covers.

You welcome the feeling of his hands and of his warmth radiating over the entire bed.

"Thank you," you whisper to him as you drift of to sleep.

Of course, starlight. I want you to feel loved. I will always be here for you.

[leenathegreengirl]

Day 4 - Echo & Aiko

Life Day is a season of renewal, light, and joy—a time for cherishing those you hold dearly. But what happens when Aiko finds herself struggling to find the perfect gift to give to Echo? Will her celebrations fall apart, or will they discover a moment of joy amidst the holiday hustle? Their festivities are a beautiful blend of love, sacrifice, and enough tooth rotting-fluff to give you a cavity!

(Link to AO3 if you prefer that formatting!)

Event Masterlist

(Special thank you my very dear friend and creative partner @legacygirlingreen for making this event possible! She is the beautiful mind behind ALL the writing, design layout, post editing and song selections!)

💚Tag List💚

@legacygirlingreen @thora-sniper @thecoffeelorian @neyswxrld @somewhere-on-kamino @clonethirstingisreal @royallykt @morerandombullshit @burningfieldof-clover @tbnrpotato @keantha @returnofthepineapple @justanotherdikutsimp @antisocial-mariposa @techs-stitches @resistantecho @kimiheartblade @dezgate @sunshinesdaydream

[99tech99]

Masterlist!

Just changed my avatar to an absolutely gorgeous commission by @amalthiaph!!! It is so beautiful and I am so obsessed and she was so amazing to work so patiently with me every step of the way.

I've got a lot of WIPs, so I hope to be updating this regularly as I finally finish things. However, I'm very capricious with my process, so who knows. And they will not be posted in order, but the Masterlist will be listed chronologically.

My blog is 18+ Minors DNI!

(It is beautiful, thanks babe!)

Currently hyperfixated on Director Daddy…

Requests are open if anyone is interested! I’d be down to write almost anything for almost any Star Wars character - just ask!

Most posts are at minimum suggestive, but the rare fluff piece is denoted with ☁️. Mild to spicy is denoted with 🌶️ and actual smut is denoted with 🔥.

Like my work?? Please reblog! ❤️

Director Krennic

Krennic's Glove - One shot 🔥

Krennic (Giving) Head Cannon - One shot 🔥

Krennic Wins Your Birthday ☁️

You Win Krennic’s Birthday ☁️

Sex and Stardust - Longer Fic

Fic Summary: Reader meets Krennic almost immediately at the founding of the Empire. She's Senator for Kuat, the planet largely responsible for supplying starships and weapons for the Empire. He’s building the most colossal weapon the galaxy has ever seen. They find each other insufferable. Naturally, sex ensues.

Fic General A/N: I have the whole story outlined and a lot in my works in progress. Right now it kind of reads like a series of one shots, but as I finish and write more, the gaps will close and be a more complete story.

Featuring Thrawn 🔵

In Which Krennic Miscalculates 🌶️

In Which Krennic Behaves Himself at His Dinner Party…Sort Of 🌶️🔵

In Which Krennic Puts His Mouth to Good Use 🔥

In Which Tarkin Gets His Question Answered

The Dresses - Pictures I’ve found of what I imagine Reader’s dresses could look like!

Thrawn

Manspreading Slut - coming soon…🔥

The Bad Batch

Need a Hand? - Tech x Reader (For Summer of the Bad Batch 2024)☁️

Need a Hand? - Tech x Reader (My Version) 🌶️

Nolan Sorrento

Part I - Reader is brand new at IOI. She receives a surprise at her performance review.

Part II - Nolan isn’t making his move. Reader takes things into her own hands.

Part III - Nolan actually tries.

Part IV -

Part V -

What’s cooking??

Thrawn One Shot

Thrawn x Reader x Krennic

The rest of the Ready Player One fic

TWO versions of Krennic x Reader getting it on at the Empire Day Gala

Sub Krennic/Dom Reader??!?

A super fun Bad Batch Surprise

[twinklerei]

Im actually sick of searching for anidala fics and only finding obikin and ahsokin fics in ao3. Im going to write anidala centered fics by myself rn

[musewrangler]

Jedi Piett WIP

I'm sorry, but I have to share a snippet because this is SUCH a fun story to write! Can't fully publish yet as I want to finish another one first, but it's moving along!

“Look,” he said, struggling to his feet and coming over to the shorter boy. “I was a slave. Back on Tatooine.” Firmus’s already big eyes got bigger. “You mean with…with a chip?” he whispered.  Anakin appreciated someone who got the problem immediately. Who knew how the Rim worked. “Yeah. I mean, it’s Hutt territory and you know how they are.” Firmus bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “Some. They had dealings around Axxila. But our biggest problem was the Black Sun.” He said the name as though he wanted to spit. Anakin had heard terrible stories about the smuggler cartel. “Were…were you a slave too then?” he asked. Firmus sighed and turned to lean his arms on the balustrade, resting his chin on them. Anakin stepped beside him and joined him. “Not exactly,” he replied at last, his emotions turbulent in the Force. “I was never chipped or anything. I had a collar but it wasn’t the lethal kind.” “So what happened then?” Anakin pushed, knowing somehow that the other boy needed to tell him. He was reasonably sure this was a prodding in the Force. He’d need to ask Obi-Wan later. A single tear tracked out of the corner of Firmus’s left eye as he stared sightlessly out over the vast city. “My…father sold me. My powers were a problem. But to some people they were worth a lot of credits, so…” Anakin took this in, something strange and sick feeling in his stomach. “Wait. You—-you knew you had powers?” “I knew something was weird about me,” Firmus replied grimly. “The…the men who bought me made me tap into my power by…” He closed his eyes, jaw working against his memories. Anakin waited.  “I had to kill,” Firmus said at last, giving Anakin a nervous glance, clearly fearing how he would react. ���Kark,” he said with sympathy. “What um…?” “Animals,” Firmus said, voice so sad. “To save people. All for entertainment. I hated it. So you see—-I’m pretty messed up.” “Nope.” Firmus raised both eyebrows at the certainty in Anakin’s voice and half turned to look at him. But Anakin was certain. He’d been here long enough to know these Jedi masters. Okay, Windu was a hard ass, but Plo was great and obviously so was Obi-Wan and lots of others. Further, his master always encouraged him to watch a being’s physical reactions at the same time as their Force sense.  “One informs the other, Anakin. It’s important to note both when assessing a being’s character.” “Look,” he said, “Master Plo wouldn’t bring you here if he thought that. And I can feel that you…you were hurt. But you’re not dark or something. Kark, you’re not evil. Bad things happened to you. Same for me. My mom is still a slave back on Tatooine.”  His throat got tight as he said this, and he saw Firmus wince in sympathy. But he plowed on. “I want to save her. So I want to be a Jedi.” There was a long pause. The wind tugged at their hair and far below Anakin could hear the noises of Coruscant.  The words, when they came, were very soft. “So…you think I can be one too then?”  Firmus said it almost shyly, and shivered a little in the breeze.  “Of course. And I’ll need someone from the Rim to help me free slaves. Someone who gets it.” A full smile graced the Axxilan’s face then. “All right.” “Now come on. You’re too skinny to be out here this long. And I have another set of tunnels to show you before you sneak back to bed. Even Obi-Wan doesn’t know about them.” And the two boys slipped back inside the vent, the grate sliding into place with a light click.

[catfur-and-greenscales]

I have finally finished it. My Obidala post order 66 fic in Tatooine where Padme survives and the twins are not seperated. With Beru and Owen.

I am so proud of myself. It took me way too long but it is finally DONE.

It has some heavy stuff and it might not be your cup of tea. But then move on.

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

Disgrace Chapter 5 : Crosshair x F!OC

After the night they had these two attempt to clear the air and ask the questions they've been avoiding, but even as Tah'nyem divulges some of her darkest secrets Crosshair can't help but notice the sudden coldness from his traveling companion. He's left with the decision as to whether or not he lets her pull away as they leave the liminal moon, crossing from his world to plunge headfirst into hers.

Chapter Specific Warnings: Mixed Messages, Brief descriptions of assault and murder (past tense), Gambling, Drinking, Mentions of hiring prostitutes, Heights, Kissing and then more kissing, Unwitting PDA. Crosshair holds a small child.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Authors Note: I was looking this over and found that the first page of this chapter had somehow gotten deleted :') I rewrote it but it has been a weekend fam.

Me: I don't write fluff, no sirree. Also Me:

✨✨✨✨Put the child on the Crosshair✨✨✨✨

Word Count: 7057

Dynamic: Princess x Guard, Speed running Co-dependancy, A Mangy Cat and his Aggressive little Chihuahua. She's a damsel, she's in distress- she can handle it.

<-Previous Chapter - Read On Ao3 {START HERE}

Music Inspo- Pleasure, By Justice Listen on Spotify - Listen on Youtube

-+-=Chapter 5 : Pleasure=-+-

I spread the tattered remains of my bag over the bed spread, and turned to the boxy droid I had found above the utilities  

“You think you can fix it?”

01101110 01101111 00100000 01100011 01101000 01100001 01101100 01101100 01100101 01101110 01100111 01100101 00100000

A small terminal on its arm flipped to reveal a needle, and with a flash and whir of metal the gap in the luggage was closed. The droid turned, game me a little salute, and collapsed back into its dormant state. You could still see where the rip had been but the stitchwork was good and solid. 

Soft snoring drifted to me from the hall and I looked up at Crosshair’s sleeping shadow in the bottom bunk. 

We had stayed on the beach for quite some time... watching the planet rise.

Eventually the moment ended, Cross gathering our things, wrapping my silk shirt about my shoulders as he ushered us back into the safety of the bunker where we drifted off contentedly to our beds for some much needed, deep sleep.

Looking for more to occupy myself, I opened a few more cabinets around the room, eyeing my father’s emergency wardrobe.Getting an idea I grabbed a pair of suede slacks and a vibrant patterned silk shirt, spreading them on the bed.

“Hey, little buddy, I’m sorry to keep waking you, but do you think you could handle a bigger project?”

The droid peaked out of its folded position to look at the fabrics I selected.

01110111 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01100010 01101001 01100111 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101111 01101010 01100101 01100011 01110100

That at least sounded interested.

“Do you think you could take these in to fit me?”

It circled the garments, then looked me up and down. Apparently pleased with its eyeballed measurements it picked up the pant leg, as well as it could, and pushed it towards me.

01011001 01100101 01110011 00100001 00100000 01001110 01100101 01100101 01100100 00100000 01110111 01100101 01100001 01110010 00100001

That sounded like an affirmative. I took the garments and slipped them on, noticing the light bruising on my inner thighs that suspiciously resembled hip bones. A small smile ghosted over me before I stifled the memories of the night and let the little machine get to work. 

The droid put-putted about on its tiny hover engine, tugging and sewing fabric, a little laser knife trimming where it needed it. 

“You couldn't have done that yesterday?”

I looked up from watching the droid tuck and stitch the waist of the slacks. Crosshair stood in the door frame, scratching the stubble that now covered his chin as he stifled a yawn. His eyes roved over the sleek, black pants suit that was emerging out of the altered materials. It concealed quite a bit more than a draped, oversized button up. 

“Wouldn't that have been a tragedy,”

I turned my attention back down. 

“I'd like to be able to tuck the legs into boots, please,”

He crossed the room to sit on the bed in front of me. 

“Tragedy, huh?”

“Mm, don't tell me you have regrets, Life's too short, my friend,”

“No, no regrets…”

“Something though?”

“... Questions,”

Oh..  

I sighed,

“... Nothing's changed. It would be unwise to continue, you know that… one time thing,”

His eyes seemed to pinch a moment, but it was fast.

“Not… that,”

He reached out, taking my right hand and stroked the small, purple scars barely noticeable on my thumb and forefinger. 

“Who was he?”

Oh. 

“You saw that, did you?”

“Only an idea of it,”

I sighed, as the little droid whistled that it was finished. 

“Thank you … uh,”

I looked at the casing on the little bot,

5T-KH

“Hmm, can I call you Stitch?”

The droid whistled in what I've started to take as a, “yes,” and flashed a little display showing a low battery symbol before it shut into sleep mode once more. 

I sat on the bed, and though I wasn't looking at him I could feel the weight of his gaze. 

“You don't have to tell me, I wanted to ask, just… thought it intrusive, until…”

He trailed off making a vague gesture suggesting, 

“Until, last night,”

Curiosity was an odd look on him, but maybe that's just because I hadn't known him long. 

“Unkles Rah’den and Rah’dheko Kan…”

“Relations?”

“No, I was just encouraged to call them my Unkles, they were long time customers and family friends,”

Silence. A beat, two, and then a whisper,

“What did they do to you?”

It was a rough question, and for a second anger flared over me at his audacity… but I squelched it. I wasn't mad at him, this was an old, sleeping anger.

“It wasn't me… It was Kahtzi,”

He was quiet now, leaving the decisions on how much to divulge in my hands. 

“She thought they were handsome, was always into the super buff type y'know, and uh, asked me to recommend her to them,”

I laid back on the bed to stare at the ceiling, sliding my palms on the comforter to hide how slick they suddenly had become.

“I never got a good vibe from them, but… I didn't think… that,”

I paused, anxiety high, but my voice had gone cold.

“They beat. her… bloody, Cross”

My words, though quiet, hung heavy in the air, my voice thick with the anger that still boiled over the old wound. Guilt and fear and vengeance.

“So, what did you do about it,”

He knew already. He saw it after all, as he looked at his reflection against the shadows in my mind. 

“Widow’s Thistle, it's a native plant on Ga’hah, ve~ry toxi~c… I pretended I didn't know, or just didn't care, about what they did, I seduced them, and once we were alone…I stabbed them with thistle needles.”

I looked over my knee at him as I summarized the murder, I swear a small smile crossed his face. 

“I only saw one,”

“Mm, one of the bastards survived, I stabbed into Rah’Den’s blood stream but lost the element of surprise… Rah’Dehko almost overpowered me, but ended up with an eyeful of toxic needle,

He lived but is horribly disfigured, face all a mess of purple and green veins… bacta doesn't work on skin affected by the toxin,”

“No consequences?”

“No, Vah'hadarr took care of things…”

I trailed off, thinking about my father's past actions and a small wave of fear turned me from chilled to frozen. 

I've been acting selfishly…

I looked at him again, sitting there with elbows on his knees, chin on folded hands. He was staring hard at the wall as if working out the same conclusion.

“Well, I showed you mine… what's your deal, huh?”

“Some other time,”

He got up and went to the fresher, a second later the water was running, and I exhaled long and slow, calming my heart that had, at some point, started to race. 

Well, that doesn't seem fair.

I scooped up the little droid box, putting it back in the utility cubby on its charging port and leaned down to grab the clean laundry out of the wash. The gown was trashed and I pondered pulling Stitch out again but I was in the mood to just abandon it. Crosshair's suit was ready though and I brought it to the fresher, walking in briefly to leave it on the counter. 

“You're suits here, I'm gonna make us some breakfast,”

“Mm…”

It was oddly domestic, this set up, and it was starting to make me uneasy. 

We need to get out of here before this gets out of hand. 

I should have held that thought, as I rounded into the kitchen and caught sight of the data stick blinking on the counter. 

~~~

We prepped to go. The instructions led us to a separate shed with extra fuel, and while Cross made sure the ship was filled, I was grabbing necessities from the bunker. 

All the ready-to-eat food from the kitchen, travel cloaks from the hall closet… What else? 

Oh!

I ran to the utility cubby and snagged Stitch from the little shelf, tucking it into my bag with the extra food and credits. 

All set. 

Confident I was now wasting time, I left, old boots contrasting oddly against the fine fabric of my improvised outfit. They fit, but had a lot of wiggle room and I tried to adjust my gate to the odd sliding feeling, slipping on the stones a few times as I quickly made my way back to the shuttle where Crosshair was waiting. 

The latest set of instructions had us marked to land in the busy port in Nohct City on the dark side of the tidal locked Ga’hah. My father’s good relations in Coruscant had allowed a delay in implementing chain code systems for the tourist port, we can land without registering. From there we meet a transfer who will help us through to one of the edge stations, where we then take the civilian rail to Sohn on the opposite side of the equator mountain range. Complicated, but easier than trying to covertly land directly in Sohn or apparently, send someone to pick me up directly from Nohct. 

Once the moon rotates to face away from its planet, we'd be off. I looked up at the sky now, the massive edge of the gas giant curving across the horizon as it set, still partially blocking the view of the sun. It was almost time. 

I boarded the little ship, dropping the full satchel behind the co-pilot seat and took in the clone lazily reclined in the other, feet on the dash, toothpick in mouth. 

“How long have you been done?”

“Ages,”

“You didn't think to come back for me? Could've helped me carry that,”

I pinched him between the plates on his arm and he slapped back playfully. 

I looked around the dismal little craft. 

Yup, still depressing.

“Everything's ready to leave this place, huh?”

There was an unintended sadness to my tone.

“Almost,”

It must have carried over as a hand slipped around my wrist, drawing me closer to the other chair. 

I knew that look, and resisted, pulling back against the insistent, guiding pressure. 

“What's wrong?”

I sighed, that tingle of fear pricking the edge of my consciousness as I met his questioning eyes. 

“We shouldn't, Once we leave here…”

He tugged more forcefully, and my knees buckled against the chair cushion. I caught myself from falling into him completely, hands finding purchase on the headrest. I had him pinned, but he had the power as he turned my chin down with one hand, tossing his pick aside with the other. 

“For the road?”

…

Kriff it, can't do any more harm…

I leaned down and met his lips, sharing a final kiss before we left our private sanctuary. 

We pulled back slowly after several minutes, a little too hot under the collar to be wise. At some point I had crawled more into the seat to straddle him, the buttons to my top mysteriously undone. 

“You ever been to Ga’hah before?”

It felt silly asking something so basic now. 

“No… tourist trap isn't it?”

“Nohct City sure is, it's where the race track’s located,”

“That I know,”

“You like pod racing?”

“No… that's where we meet our contact,”

~~~

We abandoned the small shuttle in the docking lot, avoiding the attendant droids taking registration and payments while slipping into the throngs of landed people making for the entrance gates to Nohct City. 

Great spotlights framed the gate's pillars, the top of which held up a large arch with carvings of the Three Southern Moons which, if you looked up, loomed large in the sky casting the Southern half of Ga’hah in light and tepid warmth. 

The first impression of the planet was a garish spectacle of bright lights, flashing signs, and various holograms showing examples of the performances held within the buildings they stood upon. 

I noticed Crosshair watching a recording of a towering blue Twi’lek performing an impressive operatic above us as we were swept into the bustling thoroughfare. 

“You want her?”

I had to nearly shout to be heard over the din but he caught what I said and his attention snapped to me. I pull him closer to me to make it easier to talk. 

“She'd normally be above a soldier’s pay grade but… I could get her for you, as a thank you for a job well done?”

He didn't answer, eyes flicking back to the recording with an expression of discomfort. My mind wandered to his goodbye kiss.

I'll be home soon, the mission complete…

“Would it be more tempting if I came along? We could take her together…”

I purred it, and caught the look of surprise I was waiting for. 

Tahny girl, what are you doing?

“Not enough time? Maybe you'd prefer to look me up when you have some leave, back on Coruscant, Kahtzi and I could take care of you…”

The offer was teasing, but there was a hopeful sound to that last part that wasn't a part of the script. A flurry of things passed behind his eyes, his tells were subtle, but easy to learn. I had hit the nerve I was apparently looking for. 

“What about it being a one time thing?”

I need to back off…

“Me and you? Like that? Sure… you have your orders, but your orders only last as long as the mission, right? You can come see me again?”

… That's not backing off. 

I must have reminded him we had a purpose here because he looked back around the crowd. We were jostled by the masses before I could bully an answer out of him and he grabbed hold of my arm, guiding us out of the rushing current of incoming tourists. 

As the path opened up into a wide square I pointed ahead of us.

Framed against the backdrop of the sun lined mountain range, the massive complex that housed the racetrack glowed like a beacon against the sky. 

“That's the track, when do we meet our connection,”

He tapped the data stick and checked the projection against the holopad I took from the bunker. 

“The meetup is in four hours,”

“So time to kill…”

I glanced around the busy square. 

Ah, yes!

“Let's get some caf and cool our heels, yeah?”

“We should lay low,”

I sighed..

“That is laying low, c’mon,”

I hooked his arm and headed to a building off the main corridor, there were groups of spun metal chairs and tables collected under strings of colorful beaded lanterns. Steering for a table with a good view of the square I  fished a handful of credits from the bag still in tow. 

“Here, go grab us something, I'll stay put,”

I crooked my fingers in promise and he hesitated, wanting to protest but unable to find a reason that wasn't petty. Eventually he gave up and asked,

“What do I get,”

I shrugged at that.

“Whatever they recommend,”

He stood a moment looking at the credits in hand before turning to the service counter.

I watched him talk to the Ga'haiian manning the storefront, his shoulders giving away his tension as he leaned on the counter to wait for our order. 

A group crossed my line of vision, and I lost sight of him a few moments as the current ran it's course through the tight aisle between tables. When it cleared however, and I caught sight of the man again I noticed a youngling had broken away from the throng of people and had clung to his leg, mistaking him for whichever chaperone had lost track of him. 

Crosshair jumped, which caused the kid to jump, realizing the clone wasn't the face he was expecting. The child immediately dissolved into tears. 

“Oh…”

I got up to help but Cross was dropping to a knee, still stiff- but with practiced confidence; saying something that slowed the tears and soon the little one was nodding along hopefully. The youngling was answering now, and Crosshair sternly picked him up to sit on his shoulders, making the kid taller than the Ga'haiians speckling the crowd. 

I stayed standing by our table, watching the adorable, if not odd little spectacle play out. He looked good with a little tyke on him like that. 

I caught the soft smile that had started to creep up on me and reset myself into something more neutral. The soldier was pointing to something in the middle distance and the child nodded enthusiastically. They were gone, Crosshair darting into the crowd with surprising dexterity as he delivered the kid back to a pair of panicking adults several paces away. 

He caught me watching him as he made his way back to the counter and I tilted my head in a slight bow raising my hands to give him a soft round of applause. 

My goodness, I think he just blushed. 

I sank back into the metal seat as he was handed two cups topped with whipped foam. One swiftly appeared before me and I flashed him a little sly smile. 

“Good work, soldier,”

“On the caf?”

“On the kid, dummy, looked more natural than I expected… you do that kind of thing a lot?”

“Use to…”

We both sipped our beverages, the bitter acid cut with a sweet, berryish syrup. It was rather good. 

“Is that a story you're willing to tell me?”

“... Maybe,”

Well, that's progress I suppose, but I knew more than he was telling and it was difficult to keep biting my tongue.

And Kahtzi says I'm avoidant. 

“I thought your tattoos were cultural,”

I looked up,

“Hmm?”

“Your makeup,” 

He cocked his head to the Ga’haiian girl behind the counter. 

“They don't seem to have it, or the ink on your arms,”

“Oh… they wouldn't,”

I traced over the fading ink on my wrists,

 “The dedication ceremony isn't really practiced much, I started doing it at some point to be fashionably unfashionable and ended up just… enjoying it,”

“And the tattoos,”

 “These are a practice amongst the nobles of Sohn, most Ga'haiians don't have them,”

…

“You didn't think to mention that earlier?”

“They're not that noticeable…”

His eyes narrowed and darted back to the few visible natives casting unsubtle glances in our direction. 

“I mean it's not uncommon to visit Nohct,”

“We should get off the street,”

“Easy, we're in civilization now, no one's gonna just… jump out at us,”

He didn't ease, instead standing, making an attempt to down the rest of his drink. A feat which would've looked more serious if he didn't get foam on his nose in the process. 

Stifling a giggle I handed him a napkin, standing as well. The man was never completely wrong, and my marks were drawing some attention. 

“Let's go somewhere I'll blend in better,”

I took his arm and started guiding him up the main corridor towards the Grand Casino perched over the prized raceway. It wasn't the only casino lining the massive passage, but if we were to find any congregation from the elitist Sohn side they'd be at the qualifiers banquet. Which, we should avoid, but no one should blink at me wandering around the casino with a bodyguard. 

The building was massive once you were in its shadow. Its front was carved from a solid block of lush blue stone forming sweeping, shallow staircases. Gold inlays were hammered into every step as it led through gates of glowing neon lights blinking a dazzling pattern that would give you a headache if you stared at it directly. 

Crosshair kept glancing at his feet as we crossed the threshold into the massive gambling den. There was an epitaph inscribed on the precious stone foyer in Ga'haiian. 

“By Be'llahl’s Pleasure”

I translated, and he looked up at me. 

“What is Be’llahl the god of…exactly,”

I laughed at that and pushed him further into the building out of the way of incoming patrons. 

“Isn't it obvious?”

We had reached the floor where groups of people gathered around tables of spinning, whirring devices. Some threw dice, some dealt cards, all were engrossed in the thrill of the game. Beautiful men and women of multiple races walked between the tables carrying drink trays to guests and little droids darted about the floor, cleaning up spilt ice and the occasional stray credit. The walls were draped in portraiture of the escorts available and their performance times, many of the faces familiar.

He still looked like he was waiting for an answer, so I gestured to the examples around us. 

“What do you see?”

“Gambling.”

“Mm, yes one indulgence, what else?”

“Booze,”

“And sex, and beauty, and music, and food”

“I don't get it,”

“Be’llahl is a pleasure god, li’nen, specifically pleasure for the sake of it, who gave birth to culture itself… not like any one believes in the old gods these days, more of a mascot really,”

He chewed a toothpick, processing the clanging, bleeping, whirring casino floor, and I poked his side.

“It’s telling you to relax and have fun,”

Getting an idea, I grabbed him again, pulling him into the game pit.  

“I'll show you what I mean,”

I steered us to an embankment I was well familiar with. 

“What's this?”

He eyed the attendant with distrust. 

“You'll like it, watch,”

I slid some credits onto the counter for show and the attendant passed me a basket with three little darts inside. 

The holoscreen flashed and suddenly displayed a starfield. It looked like it went on forever. Buttons on the console in front of me lit up with the chances 1x, 3x, and 5x displayed. I put a single credit in the 1x tray and the screen zoomed in. I could now make out a star system rotating rather quickly, planets and moons orbiting in a predictable pattern with different point values. 

I took a dart, and aimed at a slow moving moon worth the lowest value, hitting it with a generated pop as the physical object penetrated the hologram and buried itself into the game's backboard. The little moon exploded and the value was added to my payout. 

The next shot I took missed, and my points dropped down to zero. Same with the third, and the attendant took my credit while thanking me for playing. 

I never got better at this game, so I shrugged and handed a credit to Crosshair. 

“In your wheelhouse?”

He was already sliding the credit into the highest payout slot and taking the offered darts. 

I couldn't make much out at this level, being zoomed into a galaxy band, the heavenly bodies revolving in still a predictable, but wildly complicated dance. All the targets were small, but the high value pieces were also fast, and often blinked behind other obstacles. 

“Careful now, a negative score will have us in debt,”

He just smirked and tossed the first dart, sending it through a dust belt. It hit its mark true, and the bonus was added to the tally. He caught on quickly. 

A girl came to my elbow and offered me a complimentary spritzer and I accepted, sipping the weak drink and snagging another for Cross, who was letting the bet roll for another round of darts. They'll be free while we're playing and I weighed the idea of getting sloshed at one of the more cushy tables with a low buy in. I set the drink at his elbow and he seemed to sip at it without thinking, quickly engrossed in the game. 

Glad he was relaxing, I stepped a few paces away and scanned the busy Casino floor. Guests lingered about at various betting tables, families steering their younglings away to more age appropriate activities, and security keeping an eye on things. They blended in well, but once you saw them they seemed to be everywhere. 

A group of Katjarls began hissing at each other at one of the bars. Before it turned into a full out yowling match security was already there to break it up. No causing a scene here. 

I turned back to the game bank and nearly choked on my drink as I shuffled back to the counter. 

“Thank you! That'll be all for us,”

I slammed my hand between the attendant and Cross’s outreached one waiting for more darts. 

“What happened to low profile?”

I hissed, taking in the score counter. 

“You couldn't have held back a little?”

My fault, but by Be'llahl I was gone a karken second!

“What's the problem?’

The hair raised on the back of my neck as he leaned down to talk low in my ear. He sounded like he was masking disappointment with an air of irritation. 

“Fleecing the house is not how you go unnoticed,”

“And how would the gentleman like his winnings?”

The attendant had cocked an eyebrow at me, putting the ball in my court as to what to do about the ridiculous payout. 

“What's the charity this quarter?”

“Oh… uh, that would be for the Rebuilding the Ravages of War fund, Miss,”

“Perfect, give us a fifth and donate the rest,”

The Ga'haiian nodded, and winked at the faded ink on my forearms before heading off to count the credits. 

I expected a protest that never came and tilted my head to look at the soldier next to me, armor partially hidden by the cloak we took from the safe house. He was standing in a forced casual position, staring craters into the back of the boy counting out winnings to the far side of the game bar. 

Maybe he needed the cash…

Too bad, I wouldn't want that kind of attention even if we weren't… on the run? Underground?... Whatever. Walking away with that kind of money would have the higher ups in a tizzy. At least donating it helps their taxes so they're more likely to look the other way. We'll need a new way to kill the time.

I tapped his elbow to signal him to wait for the credits and stepped a few paces into the carpeted walkway. There were less bodies mingling away from the bars and tables and a breeze wafted through from somewhere unseen. A small bit of peace in the clamoring din of the game hall. 

“Tah'nyem Ra! Dollface, what are you doing here?”

I spun on my heel, coming face to ruffles with a familiar costume. 

“Jar’ath!”

I hugged the man with genuine enthusiasm, his slight build leaned into me and we kissed each other's cheeks where our tattoos smudged into color. His skin had gone pale, telling how long he'd been outside of Sohn. 

“It's been so long, I haven't seen you-”

“Since you ran off to play ‘Madam’ on Coruscant? Mhmm, I remember,”

He flicked his bangs out of his eyes, the white hair hiding the streak of black over his ear as he fixed me with a faux haughtiness.

“Oh, don't sound so hurt, it's not like you didn't have your own career, What is it these days? I suspect that's why you're here?”

“Stars sake it's why I've been stuck here. It's qualifier season, Ga’hah’s hosting and I'm the MC! Can you believe it?”

I giggled at his outlandish gesturing as he complained. 

“Didn't you always want to host the races?”

“Mm, true, and honestly couldn't be happier, despite Riot Racing having all the draw these days…”

He jutted his chin towards the game counter where Cross was being handed a satchel embroidered with the casino's motto. 

“Who's Mr, uh… scary?”

He trailed off as the Clone sloped over, towering over the two of us as he drew even with my shoulders. Despite the glower in his demeanor I relaxed once he was near again, not wanting to leave him alone long where he seemed so… out of his element. It's like ships or a gunfight were the only places he felt comfortable. 

“Jar’ath Saijen, this is Commander Crosshair of the Imperial Army, he's my guard for the event,”

With my father being given the governorship this wasn't a far off fib. 

“Oh~h, a soldier,”

He extended a hand, all painted blue to the elbow and glittery pink gemstones on the nails. Crosshair took it, shaking it briefly. If the flirty tone registered he did well hiding any reaction. 

“Mhmm, ye~ah, and how long have you been Kriffing little Miss Ra here?”

He may as well have struck me, the way my mouth hung ajar.

“Oh don't look so shocked! I've known you, how long? You're not this relaxed around someone lest you've bedded them, and when have you ever had a bodyguard? Tell me I'm wrong,”

He wasn't, and now turned to size up the clone. 

“You're a tall one, not the tallest, obviously… but how's that work with a shorty like Tah’nyem? Do you use a stool or just avoid shower sex?”

I felt my cheeks warm slightly, making this the second wave of embarrassment in less than a week. I was getting soft. 

Jar'ath let go of Crosshair's hand, who had frozen at the blatant questioning and I moved to redirect the conversation.

“Ah-”

It came out as a squeak. I cleared my throat and tried again. 

“He's a friend, with the end of the war we have a lot of men looking for alternative work, I'm… gauging interest,”

Crosshair's eyes snapped to mine, but he didn't contradict my story.

“Oh? He's a clone, right? Can tell by the eyes… I'm not sure what the draw would be, you've kriffed one you've kriffed them all, he's different though isn't he… custom order?”

He went to feel up the armor plating, causing Crosshair to tense, but before he could move I was already there- hand wrapped tight around the slim, painted wrist. 

“Watch your tone Jar’ath, I just said this is my friend, try not to be rude… er,”

He gasped in a patented exaggeration.

“Oo, look at you! It's like you care! Does Kahtzi know? She's gonna want a piece once she figures out you like him, like him”

I released his arm, sighing, there was no winning with Jar’ath. He'd been like this since we were young. It was his defense against the other kids who'd try to bully us smaller half bloods. Always the last word, never showing a shred of anything but amusement. 

“I'll kill you later, but for now… where's the best place to get away from the crowd? We've been jostled for what feels like hours and I'm tired of it,”

I glanced at Crosshair. It was hard to tell exactly what he was thinking, but it was clear he wasn't fond of my old friend. Couldn't really blame him, Jar'ath’s invasiveness was like water in the hot oil that was Cross’s defensive silence. 

“Mm, li’nen, it's your lucky day,”

He reached into his top and pulled out a key card. 

“When the floor manager saw your friend's take piling up he wanted me to escort you to the main box party for the race, I'm guessing you haven't been yet…”

Kark, I knew we had drawn attention…

“Bu~t, you'll never guess who's in with all those nuvvy wuds today, Bly’ju Duhanis!”

I recoiled. 

“Oh, no, please keep me far, far away from Bly,”

“Who's Bly?”

We both turned to look up at Cross, who had spoken for the first time in the exchange.

“Oh, sweetie he's one of little T’s suiters, isn't that right, Tah’nyem?”

“The most irritatingly persistent one,”

I groaned, thinking of the incessant holocalls that had me changing registries more than anyone would ever think to. 

“You know, our big strong Commander could probably knock some fear into the boy,”

Jar'ath once again made to push up against the fitted armor only for Cross to step out of the way. 

“Discretion, for once Jar'ath? For the love of Be'llahl?”

“That is blasphemy, little T, it's my pleasure to be as I am and do as I do, yes?” 

“Would that infringe on my pleasure? Which may come to a crashing halt if it fell to the wrong eyes or ears?”

I glanced pointedly at the taller man, once again quiet but had shifted to stand closer to me and slightly more hidden from Jar'ath. 

“Uhg, fine, but only because I love you and I already solved the problem anyways,”

He jiggled the key card. 

“For high rollers like you, I convinced them to give me an unused key, you want privacy, I have you more then covered, Just be grateful I recognized your ass from all the way over there,”

He put the key card in my hand, and leaned in to kiss my forehead. 

“Gotta run, the show's about to begin!”

And with an exaggerated bow, he was gone, the flamboyant fabric of his costume getting lost amongst the garish tourist chic pouring through the hall towards the arena where the day's qualifier races would soon be starting. 

I turned to Crosshair and was startled to find him staring at me rather intently. 

“What? What's the look?”

Not waiting for an answer I started moving us in the direction of the stadium seating looking for the number on the key that would indicate floor. 

“You didn't even try to deny it… us,”

“There's no us, Wouldn't have been much point anyways, Jar'ath is the best cold reader in the business, practically clairvoyant, and he's known me longer than most so I'm particularly easy,”

He leaned into me, breathing against my hair as another group shoved by us on the way to the glowing stairs at the back of the game hall.

“So you do like me?”

I faltered from my relaxed stride and he chuckled. Sending him a cold glance we started up the stairs to the private balconies. 

“So, if he knows you so well, why didn't you tell him the real story?”

The amount of people around us thinned as we ascended to the more expensive seating levels, eventually coming out into a quiet, empty hall. Plush carpeting muffled our steps and I lowered my voice.

“Well, didn't want to tell him much, its difficult to lie to him but he knows I wouldn't put much effort into covering up a tryst besides what's expected of me, hopefully he just thinks that's all I'm doing,”

Not like he'd sell me out to assassins, he would just find my present circumstances more amusing than my sex life… and he’s a varp of a meddling gossip.

“Hide… trysts often?”

“I think I just said I didn't, but what you really seem to be asking is how often there's a tryst at all.”

We had come even to a door emblazoned with a matching symbol to the key I was holding. Some of his behaviors were starting to make a pattern and I brimmed with irritation.

“I told you before, not as often as people would like to believe… If I didn't know better I’d say your words hold a tinge of jealousy,”

I pressed the key to the reader with a huff and entered the empty box. The balcony was wide with small tables scattered about, plush chairs tucked in. It was dark and I left the light off, not wanting to draw any more attention to us alone up here.

“Would it be wrong… if I was jealous?”

“You'd be a fool to form such a feeling about me, We knew this wasn't something that could continue… this story doesn't have a happy ending,”

I felt his arms weave about my shoulders, gently pulling me against his chest.

“I don't care about the ending…”

I blinked rapidly to chase away the heat that suddenly stung my eyes. Illogical reaction, there was definitely something wrong with me these days. Shrugging his arms off me I pulled away.  

“Foolish,”

The divider overlooking the track was a low, sturdy stone and I leaned against it looking down to the checkered line where a horde of racers were standing by their pods waving to the crowd. Jar'ath could be heard over the cheering masses as he introduced each entry, little droids flew about, buzzing to each contestant. Giant holo screens showed the projections, flashing between the smiling racer and shots of their supporters in the crowd. 

Crosshair approached me slowly, sliding into the soft light filtering in from the stadium and leaned next to me with his back to the crowd.

“Forget the end, What about now?... You and I…”

“You and I still have our duties, there's no escaping that,”

My tone remained one of admonishment, eyes casting about the other lit boxes on our level. 

Even if we do see each other again…

“There,”

I pointed across the way to a crowded balcony. It was a few floors down but open to the sky, creating a larger banquet space framed by the backdrop of mountains. At its center booth, a handsome Ga'haiian sat in a white suit. Tall, tan, pure white hair slicked back and falling over his shoulders. Women lounged about, giggling and hanging about his neck trying to steal a kiss. The people around him were obvious sycophants, latching to the wealth and power, but the man didn't seem to mind. 

Crosshair followed my gesture, catching as the man poured a sparkling bottle of something over the head of a fawning girl and laughed. 

“That is my suitor, Bly’ju Duhanis, son of the richest family of Ga'hah and the galaxies most pompous idiot,”

The poor drenched girl smiled weakly as Bly moved his attention to the wait staff, knocking a tray out of one of their hands as he demanded more bubbly.

“Charming,”

“Isn't he? I hate the man… everyone knows that I despise him, and yet he's most likely to be my future husband, eventually he'll make my father an offer he can't refuse, his family can make almost anything happen and he feels… entitled to me,”

“Any particular reason?”

He was only half listening, a wandering hand bringing cool fingers to trace the lines on my forearm. 

“Stood up for me once when we were kids, he got a broken nose and now considers it a blood debt, ignoring the fact that he turned to bullying me and my friends as an immediate reaction,”

I pulled my arms closer about me and away from his touch, adding a bite of accusation to my tone,

“And then there's you… what do you think the Empire will do when they find out you let them escape? ‘They won't be able to hide forever,’ right? It rings in you over and over,”

He stiffened, his hand that reached for me faltering. 

“Oh come on, we're already neck deep in Secret Town here, how about we go over some of yours?...What's the plan once the Empire realizes they're alive? Will they just ignore it, or shove you into a cell never to be seen again?... Perhaps they'll just kill you.”

The events had been laid clear in his mind, the thoughts well tread as he went over them again and again, betrayal begetting betrayal. It wasn't easy to forget. 

“That's not for you to worry about,”

He pushed off the barrier and moved behind me, arms forming bars against my sides as he leaned in again. 

“I said I don't care how it ends,”

But if we keep doing this… I will. 

He was nuzzling into my hair, keeping the contact light, whispering so that his lips barely brushed against my ear.

“I may never come back… I could die tomorrow, you could too… but that still leaves tonight,”

He was using my own sentiments against me.  

I turned to face him, hips backed to the stone, arms weakly pushing him away, but my resolve was slipping as he refused to back off. His persistence remained gentle, as if to still the frightened animal he saw struggling behind the eyes that were avoiding his. Another light touch, a stroke of my cheek, turning my chin to meet his gaze as he had on the crimson moon. 

“Tell me then, that once was enough, tell me your satisfied… and I'll never ask again,”

I don't know when the script had switched, my position as predator slipping away as I felt the web of him close around me. Suffocating.

His boot suddenly kicked mine out with a quick hooked motion, forcing me into a wider stance as he leaned in, holding my gaze. Those strong fingers now tracing a trail up the inseam of my suede pants. 

A whistle pierced the air as the racers shot ahead on the speedway with a chorus of roaring engines. The onlookers were now reliant on the screens projecting feeds from the blind curves of the track as the roar echoed and dulled. The sudden rush of noise and excitement from the crowd shook me with adrenaline.

He didn't let the rush go to waste, letting his thumb caress just inside the crease near my groin, causing a wave of heat to crash onto the cold chills running down my spine. It was just a brush, a tease, serving it's purpose of relaxing my inhibitions. 

“Don't make me wait forever…”

“Implying that you would?”

“Life's too short for regrets, that's what you said isn't it?”

…

“Tahny…”

Sighing in resignation as his hands slowed, sliding up to rest on my hips, I hesitantly leaned my head against his armored shoulder, breathing him in to ignite the sparks he was stoking within me.

He had me. 

Fine then…

I leaned back, stroking his cheek… holding his eyes with mine as I crooked my fingers in promise, pressing the symbol to his chest. 

“For whatever time we have, you, CT-9904 Crosshair, may have of myself, Tah’nyem Ra… as you like,”

“By Be'llahl?”

“... By Be’llahl,”

I was lifted to sit on the edge of the stone, his arms bracing me so I needn't fear falling as his lips found my neck, planting little kisses under my ear. 

“As I like?”

Here's to recklessness and bad decisions…

“As you like,”

Letting myself give in, I wrapped my arms over his shoulders, bringing my lips to meet his and allowing the world to fall away again. 

He was pressed to me, nothing but air to my back as the kiss deepened, becoming more possessive as the warmth of his tongue dove between my lips, searching desperately for mine. I wrapped a leg about his hips to keep steady, trusting him not to pitch us over as I answered his desperation with a soft moan. 

Pulling away to find my neck again, he alternated between soft kisses and sharp little nips between my ear and the collar of my shirt… I had to resist breathing his name with each little jolt. He had shifted to hold me steady with one arm, his dominant hand set to exploring again, up my chest and into my hair. 

I was frustrated at the thick plates over his shoulders and slid my hands to his ribs, curling my fingers into the sole gap to tug at him. He bit my neck slightly harder, making me gasp, before moving back to kissing me, hand still holding me still by my hair. 

This was different than before… an odd bliss to it, only broken by a quiet, buzzing that had slowly crept up to us. The crowd below had broken into wilder cheers and jeering. 

Our attention snapped to the small hover droid, scanning us onto holo screens under a gaudy, romantic banner. Jar'ath was saying something about a cutest couple award, suddenly finding himself at the top of my hit list. 

I did my best event smile and wave routine as Cross and I slunk back into the shadows of the box. The screens were now zoomed in on Bly, shaking and furious as the desperate girl attempted to lean in for a kiss. The camera cut as he turned to storm off, pulling his security in tow as he went.  It was safe to say he probably recognized me. 

Great, more people on my tail.

“Cross, can you see the announcer booth from here?” 

“Yes…”

“Shoot Jar'ath for me,”

He grinned at that. 

“My pleasure.”