#half Zabrak

[im-yotsu]

It's them...the creachur

Also a turnaround for Rainer's tattoos

[nocaffeineforlevi]

hihi KOTOR fandom would you like a darth revan cosplay wip in these trying times?

[maulfucker]

Completely unprompted but. Knowing Zabraks have two hearts for stamina/endurance reasons Maul's fighting style makes a lot more sense. He can jump around and do all his fancy flips because he doesn't get tired as fast as a human

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

Chat writes the plot! Time for more 👑🐲🐟 KotD!

🔥🔥 don't forget to reblog tysm! 🔥🔥

Want to be on the tag list? -> Comment with 'tag me!' Have an idea for next chapter or clicked the wrong option? -> Reblog about it! Check the bottom for the Ao3 link. Latest chapter is below the cut!🔥

~King of the Dragonfish: Chapter 15~

Maul sighs with an unusual breadth of relaxation, the tingling aftermath of climax running from the tips of his fingers to the ends of his fins. Everything feels… so good. He marinates in that state of being for a little while, tail still and arms limp.

Eventually, the sith remembers what he was doing.

Yes the purpose of this was… was to show Kenobi that-

Kenobi! Where did he go?

Maul rolls himself upright and reaches out in the force, his energy finds the jedi like a moth finds a flame: inevitably drawn to its light. He sways across the small room and around the magma boulder, finding Kenobi clutching his legs hard enough to turn his knuckles white, smelling strongly of lust and anxiety and distress.

That mixture was so… very pleasant. Fear and desire. Desire and fear. Yessss.

The dragonfish sith breathes in and curls around him, setting fingers under the other man's scruffy jaw and tilting his chin up. Blue eyes pop open with just a trace of panic to them. The sith hums with enjoyment, scratching at the underside of his beard.

Panic panic panic… what to do about a panicking jedi? Hmmm…

“Maul,” Kenobi says hoarsely, then fails to complete the thought.

Fix the panic? Make it worse? The fear was… was yes, very yes, but a panicking Kenobi would not lay with him. Jedi were weak, they could not handle fear.

Maul decides to try soothing him like an adult zabrak would comfort a youngling. It is the only figment of comfort he can recall. Hopefully it would serve.

Lacking horns to tug on, the sith pulls gently on fistfuls of his hair, just enough for consistent pressure, and scrubs their cheeks together. One side, then the other.

“Mnnn~”

He hears the jedi swallow, and feels cautious fingers land on his chest just beneath the collar bone. The touch would almost seem like Kenobi was trying to push him away, except the force behind it is negligible.

“What-” the man croaks then clears his throat, “what are you doing?”

“You are upset,” Maul explains. “Is this not soothing?”

The jedi's force signature wavers, some tiny signal he cannot translate. “I… I suppose it is. In a way. Why are you trying to soothe me, exactly?”

Maul hums, rubbing against him some more. Something here is working, he can sense it. “Hnnn… mine,” he croons, “As my revenge I am keeping you, soft jedi, and so I will keep you well.”

The jedi in question scoffs with amusement, even as his head tilts aside.

Is he inviting…? Unlikely. It must be automatic.

… how pleasing.

“Keeping me well, are you? On a stone floor with no bed or blanket? In a cave with no sun? There are no books, no caf, nor kettle. Hardly five star accomodations.”

Maul pulls back, looking his captive over. He preens a bit to see the edge of panic gone away, replaced by a challenging glint. Yes, much better. He likes Kenobi best when Kenobi has fight in him.

“These are things you wish for?” he asks.

Kenobi squints at him, suspicious. “…yes?”

The dragonfish sith withdraws, nodding as he backs away toward the water. “I will bring you gifts, and you will favor me.”

The jedi raises a brow at him. “Favor you? What precisely do you mean by that?”

Maul leers at him, tail swishing about. “You already know what you will give me.”

Kenobi stands when the magma boulder comes between them, coming around the side in a huff, “Now just hold on a moment, I didn't agree to anything!”

With hissing snickers, Maul ignores the token complaints in favor of throwing himself into the water. Down he goes, tail and fins propelling him into the tunnels.

It is a long swim to where he might hunt for creature comforts, but that gives him time to consider how best to transport such things. A kettle, a bed and blanket, caf, and -most difficult of all- sun.

He does like a challenge. Perhaps he shall steal Naboo’s sun? Surely a star would be a gift glorious enough that Kenobi would give up these pointless notions about keeping to himself.

It is worth a try… but the sky is much further away than land, so perhaps he will look for the other items first? Yes? Yes.

The dragonfish sith first looks in shipwrecks. Pleasure cruisers scuttled on rocks or lost in storms. The salt water tends to degrade anything organic, but metal and seals take longer to claim. The first wreck is too old, and produces nothing of value, but the second has a conservator that hasn't been opened since it's downfall.

Maul pries it open with the force, letting the rotten food stuffs settle before digging around in the contents. He lays claim to a variety of canned drinks, sealed water bottles, and a few jars of condiments that still seemed fine. The cupboards reveal a few questionable jars of fruit preserves, and oddly enough a very well sealed package of crackers.

The lot of it goes in a slightly rusted pot, lid put on top and tied with seaweed.

Returning with one success in hand should suffice… but Maul is used to a demanding master. Above and beyond was the only sufficient completion of a task, nothing else had ever seen praise.

And so, the hunt continues.

He swims for shore now, and recalls another moment in time. He had been sitting on his ship, flying between Tatooine and Naboo, and using that brief time to research the jedi he had encountered.

Jim… Djin… Jinn? Yes, that was his name, the one he had killed in glorious combat was Jinn. Strange, that he was named for a creature who gives wishes. Maul rather thinks that he deserves those wishes after having bested the man.

Maybe he does have them, and simply hasn't used them? Hmm…

Pictures of jedi Jinn were common on the holonet, he had found them easily. A notorious troublemaker of grandmaster Yoda’s line. With Jinn was pictured the man he had not yet known as Kenobi.

His murderer.

Wishes and murders. Hm. How entertaining!

More to the point, he recalls a holo of Jinn and Kenobi in a formal tea ceremony. That particular image had been of the older jedi looking into the surface of his drink thoughtfully, and Kenobi having just finished a sip. He had looked delighted with the contents.

Tea, yes, his jedi must have tea.

It is, ironically, his stealthy hunt through a seaside village looking for tea or caf that nets him a different opportunity altogether.

Someone has ordered a day bed, but failed to unbox it as of yet. The mattress is still vacuum packed, and the frame contained within it's box.

Maul circles the find and pets it covetously. What fortune!

The dragonfish sith lifts the box out the window and slithers after it, avoiding people as he returns to the water. Pot of treasures and soggy box in tow, he returns to the depths. He spends the long journey gleefully anticipating Kenobi’s reaction to his success.

To be continued...

-Tag list- (Comment if you want added!)

@obimaulartfire @savageopressbignaturals @icequeen8043 @moonsickvampire @maulish @milkcioccolato

New? Start from Chapter 1! 👇🏽

[deadbeatartjam]

This started as me wanting to draw my SW5e character's evil clone/brother as an edgy anime kid and ended with me designing rebellion school uniforms

Uniform designs under here for anyone that wants to use them

[your-fave-is-bi]

k so my idea of aiming at clone ocs in artfight this year isnt working bc im a scared baby BUT

there's a lot of star wars ocs so im having a blast. also twileks are like real fun to draw i've found

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

MILKY

now we're all thinking about them, look what you did. (gestures at the smutty obimaul masses, most of which have read that little 'lick' at least five times.)

It’s late

And I can’t sleep

And I’m thinking about them🥺💖

[saphronethaleph]

Negotiate Early, Negotiate Often

The unknown Sith lit his lightsaber, one end, then both, revealing it to be a saberstaff.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan activated their own lightsabers, then Obi-Wan frowned slightly.

“Just curious,” he said. “But what’s your name? I just realized I’m only thinking of you as ‘the Sith’.”

“My name is Maul,” the Zabrak replied. “Darth Maul. I am your end, Jedi.”

“Hmm, debatable,” Obi-Wan replied. “We don’t actually know yet and that’s the point of this lightsaber battle. As soon as we get around to starting it, anyway.”

He shrugged, twirling his blue saber blade around his hand. “But I’m curious, that’s all. Why now? After hiding for a thousand years, Maul… why now?”

“Now is the time to reveal ourselves to the Jedi,” Maul declared. “To take our revenge.”

“Right, there’s two Sith at any one time,” Obi-Wan agreed.

“...Padawan?” Qui-Gon asked.

“I’m negotiating,” Obi-Wan replied. “It’s sort of experimental. I’ll see how it works.”

He returned his attention to Maul. “But – well. There’s two Sith at any one time. There’s currently… what, ten thousand Jedi Knights, and about the same number of trainees and padawans? It’s a lot, is what I’m saying. And now we know you exist.”

Maul’s mouth had fallen open slightly, and he shut it with a scowl.

“You’re lying,” he said, shaking his head. “There can’t be ten thousand of you.”

“There very much can,” Obi-Wan answered. “Though I’m not a knight. I’m a Padawan. Qui-Gon is a Master, but he is also a knight.”

He reached into a pocket. “I’ve not got the names of all ten thousand, but my comlink has a few hundred comcodes programmed into it-”

Maul snarled, reaching out with his hand, and threw a piece of detritus at Obi-Wan with the Force. Obi-Wan immediately put his comlink back in his pocket, spun his saber, and sliced the object in half.

That seemed to get the battle going more generally.

“Is this how weak the Jedi are?” Maul asked, grinning, as they locked blades in front of one of the power cores.

“I’ll be honest,” Obi-Wan replied. “I’m not sure you thought through that whole bit about how we haven’t known you existed for a thousand years.”

Qui-Gon advanced, and Maul twisted to block both attacks at once. That turned into a slash aimed at removing Qui-Gon’s head, and Obi-Wan deflected the slash away with a swipe of his own blade.

“You see,” Obi-Wan went on, as the battle ebbed and flowed. “We haven’t had much in the way of enemies with lightsabers for a thousand years. Most of our work has been dealing with enemies who, at the most, have blasters – and generally speaking we aim to disable, not kill, unless killing is the only remaining option.”

“A sign of the weakness of the Jedi!” Maul laughed.

Obi-Wan blocked all three of Maul’s next attacks, flowing through the forms of Soresu with an easy grace. “Perhaps,” he said. “Or perhaps it’s a sign of strength. To kill someone when there’s an alternative is to take the easy way out – finding a solution that doesn’t require killing everyone who disagrees with you is harder, but more rewarding.”

Qui-Gon just sort of stood back, watching his Padawan and trying to look for an opening where he could help without promptly getting decapitated.

“Are you the Master or the Apprentice?” Obi-Wan asked. “Because if you’re the Master, then – I’ll be quite honest, I do question why you didn’t reveal yourself years ago, and why you’re acting largely as hired muscle.”

He shrugged, working it into his bladework as he deflected one attack after another. “And if you’re the Apprentice, then… again, why do you reveal yourself now? If you didn’t know there were that many Jedi, what’s your Master’s motive?”

“Stop! Using! Soresu!” Maul snarled, trying to force an attack through Obi-Wan’s defences.

“I’d rather not,” Obi-Wan told him. “We’re talking, aren’t we? I’d rather have the time for a discussion. But please, do think through what I’m saying. Why Naboo?”

“My Master handles politics,” Maul said, then scowled.

“Ah, so you’re the Apprentice,” Obi-Wan declared. “In that case, allow me to compliment you on your excellent skill with Juyo. If I weren’t using a purely defensive Soresu style I’d probably have been filleted by this point-”

Maul punched him in the face with the hilt of his saberstaff, and Qui-Gon stepped in with his green blade flashing to save Obi-Wan from a fatal blow.

“If you could stop annoying the Sith, Padawan?” he suggested.

“Negotiations are often fraught, Master,” Obi-Wan replied, picking himself up again and working in tandem with his Master. “You need to know about the other person before you can reach an acceptable compromise.”

“So, your Master handles politics?” Obi-Wan asked, through the glowing energy doors. “And he sent you here.”

“I don’t want to talk to you any more,” Maul said. “I’m going to kill you both.”

“And then what?” Obi-Wan replied. “Your Master tells you well done, and you go back into hiding, while the next time you face the Jedi Order we’ll have been preparing for it? What about this is worth it?”

“Revenge!” Maul snarled. “At last, we will get revenge on the Jedi!”

“Revenge for something a thousand years ago?” Obi-Wan asked. “...even Master Yoda isn’t that old.”

He shrugged. “What I’m trying to say is that – are you really getting what you want? Or are you following the orders of your Master?”

“I am trying to meditate, here,” Qui-Gon said, kneeling between two of the force fields.

“It’s still a legitimate question,” Obi-Wan replied. “If at least one of us three does have to die, then don’t we at least all want to know why? Maul’s Master sent him here for something, but we don’t know what. Does Maul know? Or is he just going where he’s sent, into deadly peril, where his Master hasn’t even told him how many Jedi there are?”

He lifted his gaze, to catch Maul’s eye. “Has he been told as little as possible, to make him a weapon instead of a person?”

Maul snarled, then the energy gates began to deactivate.

Maul and Qui-Gon immediately engaged in a duel, and as soon as the gates in front of Obi-Wan deactivated he sprinted forwards.

The last one activated just before he reached it, and he stabbed his lightsaber into the projection systems. The whole laser gate shorted out, and Obi-Wan followed through to join his Master in an attack on Maul – then reached out his hand, suddenly yanking on Maul’s saberstaff with the Force.

That threw the Sith off, and Obi-Wan destroyed the staff in a single blow.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was very Niman of me.”

Maul stared at the two glowing lightsabers pointed at him.

“...Jedi don’t kill prisoners, right?” he asked.

“If you’ve committed any crimes, then that might eventually happen,” Obi-Wan said. “But that would be up to a trial. I don’t actually think you’ve done any crimes except trying to run over Anakin with a swoop bike and one count of assault… so that probably wouldn’t happen, no.”

He glanced at Qui-Gon. “Does that sound right?”

“I’m not even going to interfere here, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon replied. “You’re clearly better at defensive negotiations than me.”

“Defensive negotiations?” Maul asked.

“Negotiations involving Soresu,” Qui-Gon explained.

“In that case…” Maul said, then paused. “I have a new person I want to get revenge on. He’s called Darth Sidious, and he did want a benefit from attacking this wretched place.”

He grinned. “He wanted to be elected Chancellor, using the sympathy for his own planet.”

Obi-Wan made an interested noise.

“Well,” he said. “That’s a very impressive revenge, achieved quickly. My compliments!”

[just-a-little-cellist]

Hello there! I just came across your page and was wondering if I could get headcanons for Darth Maul and female that includes NSFW? I am trying to find as much Darth Maul content as I can cause I am currently crushing on the guy(and his actor, Ray Park)

(YES my first Maul ask! currently hyperfixating on him so you're in luck! since you didn't specify much I let the inspo flow and ended up doing a sorta first kiss scenario + some general NSFW, if you'd like me to expand on any of this or do anything different then feel free to send me another ask! enjoy :D)

(Darth Maul x fem (AFAB) reader - Maul being a little angsty but mostly fluff in the first half, NSFW labelled)

In the early stages of your relationship, before you become romantically involved, Maul spends a lot of time observing you. Just moving across a room brings the sensation of blazing eyes following your steps, and he makes little effort to hide it either.

It isn't clear whether he watches out of suspicion or curiosity. But you know he sees the shiver go through you every time you lock eyes with his intense stare.

He also doesn't speak much, which doesn't make it easier.

(Not that he'd ever admit it, to you or himself, but he prefers listening to you talk. He finds himself lost in the stories you tell and the emotion in your voice.)

He may resist your efforts to get close to him, even staying resistant to you once your relationship has been established, but he does want and need to experience genuine care. He's just not sure how to accept it.

The first time you gather your nerves and reach out to touch him, before any romantic advances had been made, he pulls away like he's been burned.

Almost all of the touch he's received before has been violent and painful. This is foreign, and he doesn't know what to do.

His expression is unreadable, and he storms away soon after, leaving you wondering if you'd overstepped and if this would finally be what tips his patience.

You don't have to wonder long though.

He enters the room that you're stood in silently enough that you only notice him when you turn around.

Maul stares down at you, his body far closer to you than you expected, and you fumble with your words when he doesn't say anything.

"HI! Uh... I'm really sorry if I overstepped earlier. It wasn't appropriate of me and I promise I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable I just-"

You trail off when the Zabrak slowly takes your hand.

He's... unusually careful, for someone so frequently fuelled by anger. He's gentle, and unsure, like he thinks you'll bolt at any moment.

His eyes stay locked with yours as he slowly lifts your hand up and, seeing no sign of fear or reluctance, places your palm against his face.

The contact is barely there, Maul clearly not certain what move to make from here. It's sweet, you think, that such an imposing figure would be so timid in receiving affection.

You smile softly, pleasantly surprised as your apprehension dissolves, and gently brush your thumb over his cheekbone. His eyes close, just for a moment, and he leans into the touch ever so slightly.

"Forgive me for earlier," he murmurs. "This is... new."

"That's ok, I can be patient."

He stares at you for a moment longer, trying to see if there is any motive beyond your sweet smile, but finds nothing but fondness.

"You have entranced me, starlight."

His eyes flicker down to your lips with longing in his eyes and, not one to miss an opportunity, you lean forward and kiss him softly.

Maul is stiff at first but, just as you're about to pull away, he melts into it. His hands slide up to your waist as your arms move up around his neck, and he hums approvingly at the feeling.

He only pulls back once he feels you smile against him.

Clearly feeling defensive and a little vulnerable, he looks at you questioningly.

"Sorry, it's nothing! I just-" You look at him and gather your thoughts. "I'm just glad you don't actually hate me."

"You thought I hated you?"

"I wasn't sure... you don't exactly make it easy to tell you know!"

He chuckles when you playfully swat at his arm.

"I could never hate you, starlight."

~ NSFW below <3 ~

Maul is not used to being vulnerable, in any scenario, so in the beginning he reverts to what he is used to: control.

He is exclusively dominant the first few times you have sex because that's what he thinks he's supposed to be.

He can focus on the way your lips part, the sounds you make, the feeling of your nails digging into his shoulders as you cling onto him.

It's your vulnerability, not his. It will take him time to feel comfortable enough for you to take the reins.

Soon into your relationship, you mumble a quiet plea and urge him to sit against the headboard. You straddle his lap and kiss him softly, but with so much passion that he stops breathing, and slowly sink down onto his cock.

This time it's him clinging onto you, and he swears nothing has ever felt better.

Maul is certainly a switch.

He has days where he feels such a primal need to possess you, to claim you.

It's days like this you find yourself on your knees, face pressed into the mattress while he fucks you from behind. His claws dig into your hips, making sure to leave marks, and his teeth are sunk into the soft skin of your neck.

(Invest in some high collars.)

However, when Maul feels the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, he needs you to make the decisions.

He's resistant at first, not believing he deserves it, but he needs you to praise him. He has no preference for whether you're rough or gentle, but he needs to know he's being good for you.

He's also surprisingly obedient. To him, giving himself over is a show of trust, and maker knows you've already fought hard enough to gain his.

The fastest way for Maul to enter subspace, he has found, is with his head between your legs.

Just say the word and his tongue is pressed to your clit, so eager to draw pretty moans from you.

He can get lost in his task so easily, entranced by the sound and taste of you, not even realising that he's overstimulating you until your hands tug at his horns.

Gazing up at you with dilated pupils, already floating in his headspace and seeming almost distressed that you'd pull him away, it's too easy to indulge him and let him keep going.

At the end of a session with him, you always insist on aftercare. Once again, it's something he struggles to acknowledge his need for, but the first time you clean him up with so much care, murmuring how well he did, and guide him to curl up beside you, he couldn't imagine ever turning it down.

He's also getting more used to giving you aftercare when he's been domming. It was a struggle to know what you needed from him at first, but he's better at being careful when he cleans up any scratches you might have, at praising you, and at accepting the way you wrap your arms around his waist as soon as he lays down beside you.

Like many things with Maul, it takes patience before you can see the true him, but it's worth the effort.

And when he lays in bed with you tucked into his side, smiling contentedly, he's never felt so lucky.

[psychomusic]

presenting to you: vegoia laran!

vegoia is the daughter of suri and tar'x laran, so, she's half-mirialan and half-zabrak. she lived on the mountains of mirial with her family until she began her jedi training at around 10 years, then she became a jedi seer.

more of her childhood under the cut! the rest of her story will be on other posts, I'll link them at the end when I'll post them

thank you @furious-blueberry0 for letting me use your padawan braid idea and jedi seer headcanon!! i really really love these ideas <3

since her birth, she seemed special at the eyes of her people, due to an old local myth: the founding witch.

(the myth is: a powerful witch, haunted by complex visions of the future, was exiled to the desert planet of mirial. after years spent traveling she had one clear vision on top of a mount, in which she saw the potential beauty of the valley, full of different lifeforms flourishing. with her magical powers, she turned that possible future into a reality, and everything changed: the 4 peoples who lived there started turning into trees and animals, what once was sterile rock became fertile ground, and craters were filled with water. but despite her good work, the incomprehensible visions kept returning. tired of the universe's infinite lessons, she decided to crystalize all of her visions and knowledge into the sacred crystal, and prophetized, before dying, that one day someone attuned to it would come to claim the crystal and understand the lessons she couldn't understand)

because of her albinism (that made her white like the crystal) and of her horns (the crystal has an horned shape), people thought she was the prophetized one. when she began to talk - rather late, and asked people to resolve the riddles that "a bearded man told her in her dreams" - what was just a rumor solidified into a belief.

her mother and grandfather, both in the high priesthood, taught her everything they could. they taught her to study, to reflect, and they explained to her their religion and folklore. also, her mother often tried to help her in her quest of finding answers. from her, vegoia learned how to study, and the right mindset to be able, later, to explore the jedi's philosophy and beliefs.

but it was her father that, despite his absence, taught her how to compromise with her visions, how to be patient, how to handle the state of ignorance, and how to enjoy it anyway. he was somehow better at understanding her, and making her understand things, than everyone else in the town. maybe, it was because he not only had met different force users, but also had experience with a force sensitive kid (his little brother, whom vegoia shared a lot of similar traits). despite her mother being a healer & priestess, and believing in the value in helping people, it was her father who really grounded that belief in her. in particular, he did it in a moment that. also shaped her experience of the force. a simple moment, though: she had asked him to kill a scary bug that was laying flat on its back, but he refused and instead asked her to help it. he believed that helping is what gives life sense - even more than the bonds we make, because it can't be undone. when vegoia picked up the bug and helped it get back on its feet, she could feel the bug's relief, and maybe even gratitude, through the force. this was the imprint of her experience of the force: connection (even more than her visions, that just "happened" to her, and couldn't actively call upon her).

BUT I DIGRESSED way too much on her childhood. the most important event in her childhood was the day she was taken by the jedi, even if she didn't know what truly happened that day.

the SIS had been tracking her father's movements for a while and had found out about his trips to mirial. worried that the empire was planning something, they sent a squad of operatives to investigate. since his father had often worked for the dark council, the SIS requested a jedi to come with them. when they arrived, suri went to talk to them. they threatened her into talking and she told them of their secret family. the SIS decided to take them prisoners, capture him when he got back, and make him talk using his family as leverage. the jedi disagreed with such methods but the operation was under the SIS's jurisdiction. suri then tried to convince them to leave the town and her daughter, and to instead blackmail him with her. the SIS refused, fearing that the sith might kill him before he could even know about the blackmailing. the jedi, feeling vegoia's strong presence in the force decided to make a deal: vegoia would've come with him to the temple to become a jedi. she'd still have a life, while suri would stay under their custody for the SIS trap. this would also show the agent the difference between the republic and the empire, and hopefully that would help him talk. she accepted at one condition: that they took her away before her father came back, so that she wouldn't have to live through it. vegoia didn't know of her father's real job, like everyone else in the town (everyone thought he had traded his services to the hutts to have the sacred horned crystal back).

they agreed, but, while suri was busy packing thing for vegoia, the SIS decided to put another condition. vegoia musn't be told anything about that day until her father had been taken into republic's custody, as a precaution. the jedi agreed, thinking it wouldn't be long before her father would come home and be arrested. little did he know this momentary omission would grow into a years-old lie.

[kaleidescope-writes]

"So that's where you are..."

Din Djarin x reader

18+, Minors DNI

Tags: Established relationship, swearing, protective!Din, No use of Y/N, no mention of the show's plot, mention of violence, Din's sexy ass voice, year long wait

Pretty sure I missed something, if I did lemme know!

Should I make a part 2?

You knew this was a bad idea. You knew this wasn't going to end well. But you were too far in to stop now. You'd been traveling with the infamous Mandalorian for months, looking for jobs and trying to keep the little green monster safe. It's been rough for the three of you, especially since many of the available jobs would compromise the three of you and put Grogu in inescapable harm. "There are more jobs out there, safer jobs." Din would say. But none of them would pay half as much as those he deemed "too risky." Not only that, they were scarce throughout the Galaxy. Every planet you landed on only had a few jobs Din was willing to take.

It was funny to you. Before Grogu came along, the last thing on his mind when taking a job was whether it was too dangerous. You'd often have to scold him for caring so little about his own safety, claiming he had no sense of self-preservation. Grogu changed that. Grogu was his wake-up call. Now he cares more about the safety of all three of you than how many credits the job offered. You were struggling to buy provisions and keep the Razor Crest in good shape. Peli was a big help, giving you a discounted price on repairs, but it still wasn't enough sometimes. Sometimes you had to scrape the bottom of the barrel just to have enough rations to make it to the next job. Despite wanting to stay optimistic, you knew you couldn't keep this up, it wasn't practical. You had a few conversations with Din about your concerns, but he kept reassuring you that it was fine. "Yours and Grogu's safety is what matters the most. We'll find other jobs, but I can't let anything happen to either of you." But that wasn't enough to make your worries dissipate. You still didn't have enough credits to buy the supplies you desperately needed.

That's what brought you here. You told Din that you were going into the next town over to try to find cheaper supplies for your travels while he took the next job. You hated having to lie to him, but it was getting harder to get by. The last time you visited Peli, you bargained asked for a favor. You asked her to send one of the droid-piloted ships in her possession to the next planet you were headed to, in exchange for a portion of the credits you'd get. You then had it take you to a different planet in the solar system, one you knew you could find one of the jobs Din refused to take. So here you were, waiting in an isolated corner of one of the grime-filled, crowded bars that bounty hunters frequented. You were looking for the zabrak that had offered Din the job a few days prior. He'd said that it was about killing a mercenary that had double crossed him a few months back. They weren't exactly well-known, but they'd made enough of a name for themselves in the underground for other hunters to stay away. Din said he could've taken care of it, but the only thing that stopped his was the very thing you were tired of hearing about. You knew you could handle it. Din had trained you well enough to take a job like this yourself, but he never really gave you the chance to prove it. You didn't need to. He would always be there to make sure you didn't. But now you had to.

A chirping noise coming from your belt pulled you out of your thoughts. Pulling out your holoprojector, you started to feel uneasy. You'd been gone for hours, he definitely noticed by now. As reluctant as you were, you knew that if you didn't respond, he would be absolutely mad with worry. Despite trying to get the job done as secretively as possible, you knew that worrying him would make it harder for him to understand why you decided to ignore his wishes for you to stay safe and stay near him. You knew you had to answer. The moment the hologram took the form of his helmet, the pressure in your stomach became harder to ignore. "Where are you?" His deep, modulated voice asked. You debated continuing the lie you previously used to leave his side, but the way he tilted his head towards you served as a warning against it. "I came looking for another job," you replied bluntly, "We need more than a few credits to get by this time." A deep exhale sounded through the hologram, he was upset. "You weren't in the next town over, I looked for you in every shit hole bar I could find. Where are you?" he asked more sternly He knew you'd gone farther than that, there was no doubt in his mind. That didn't deter you from accomplishing your original purpose here. You needed the supplies. That was something even he couldn't deny anymore. "Looking for another job," you repeated, knowing he wasn't going to stop asking, "I'll go back when I'm done, I just need you to be patient."

"Cyar'ika, tell me where you are. I'll pick you up and we can find a job together," Din tried, his voice easing up a bit as he spoke. Your stomach churned more, preparing another avoidant response. "Ah, there you are!" A very distinct familiar voice called over the noise of the crowd of drunkards, "You changed your mind then? You'll take the job?" Approaching your secluded corner of the bar, the zabrak you were looking for announced his presence out enough to be heard by your concerned lover. You felt your heart drop to your knees, knowing damn well Din would recognize the shrill, raspy voice of the man that had previously offered him the job. You turned your attention back to the holoprojector in your hand, attempting to end the projection before he'd fully realize where you were. But you weren't fast enough, as a deep hum resounded from his image followed by a sentence that would upturn your anxiety.

"So that's where you are."

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

A/N: Heyo! I know it's been almost a year since I posted the preview, sorry for the delay. Also, I meant to make this longer, but I figured if anyone wants to read more I can make a part 2. Love you guys, stay safe, stay proud, stay strong! 💖

Also, if my irl friends find this, not you fucking didn't 🫵😠

[orangez3st]

Call Shot

ARC Trooper Echo × GN!Reader 

✧ Summary: Your roommate dragged you to a billiard game (despite your little knowledge about how the game actually goes) with clones they knew from Maker knows where. One of them, though, is kind and sweetheart enough to teach you so you'll have fun, too.

✧ Tags & Warnings: reader is kinda new to billiard game, clone shenanigans (of course why would i not include this), a little alcohol, sexual innuendo, suggestive themes, i may or may have not made this an 8-ball game tutorial for dummies, i mean look at that word count i got carried away, reader's roommate is also gn, no mentions of y/n, gn reader

✧ Word Count: 5.7k

✧ A/N: A result from the initial poll! For the warning, don't worry; there's nothing explicit. Lemme tell you I'm blushing the entire time I wrote this down *cries in cuteness aggression* *chews on table*. So without further ado, please enjoy! I so recommend listening to a typical bar electronic upbeat playlist of your favorite for the ambience.

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | divider by me

You don't even know why you agreed to come. All you know is that you're probably dreading to be here. Club music with heavy bass and electronic tunes reverberate from the speaker. Though the atmosphere is focused, it reeks of competitiveness. There's almost no chatter except for the resin pool balls clacking against each other and occasional playful laughter.

Oh, how it irks your nerves. But, as long as your friend's happy, you guess. They're right, though. You've been staying in too long, buried in your remote work, that Deven thinks you were actually laying eggs and sprouting children out of them. Okay, they've got a point. You feel stiff, you need something to help you let yourself loose.

And never, for the love of stars, a billiard bar. But here you are. It's not about… you don't like them, no. You just don't like how unfamiliar it is to you, and how small and clueless you look. You've played once in the past, and if you're offered to play now, you've already forgotten everything.

Deven plays almost regularly. That Zabrak roommate of yours makes pool their hobby they even purchased and took care of their own gears. Their modular cue, their glove – it's all in the cylindrical cue case slung over their shoulder. Told you they're a decent player. You believe them. With their own gear and fierce focus and also a mathematics research assistant? Yeah sure.

You stroll through pool tables, passing people that play. There are groups, there are singles, playing on their own. Deven told you about their boyfriend, a clone trooper of the Grand Army of the Republic. Their battalion is on shore leave here on Coruscant now as they told you, so upon their insistence, fine you're coming along. For the drinks, too. It's a bar, after all.

“There they are!” a loud voice shouts, bringing your attention to one of the crowded tables. “Our beloved pool champion!”

They're clones, alright. Still in their battle-hardened white plastoid armor, in fact. You notice their blue markings, a few of them donning a few extra gears; extra chestplate and double pauldrons.

“Starting without me, boys?” The excitement in Deven’s voice is palpable. This is their field, after all. They stride over to one of the troopers with pauldrons and kiss him in both cheeks. “Hey baby. So good to see you.”

The trooper grins. “Looking great tonight, baby,” he pecks them on the lips, arm winded across their back. “Missed you. You brought company?” He glances at your direction, eyes curious.

“Yeah, my new roommate. I dragged them out with me too.” Smiling, Deven pats your back gently, introducing you, and nods to their boyfriend. “My one year boyfie, Jesse.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” You shake Jesse's offered hand curtly. He looks like a sweet and nice guy. You can't help but keep glancing, between his big ass Republic cog tattoo that covers half of his bald head and the playing table. “You boys just came back today or what?”

“Oh yeah, but this idiot can't wait to meet his beloved.” Another pauldroned trooper marches over and smacks Jesse in the back, the latter bucks forward from the force. His cheeks stretch far and wide as he turns to you. You may… or may not blush a little. This one's quite charming. “Careful, don't get too near. We haven't showered. Straight from the larties to the streets,” he playfully tells you and offers his gloved hand. “Fives, by the way.”

You introduce yourself, smiling. “Nice to meet you.”

Leaning slightly on his cue, Fives glances at you up and down. “You play?”

Feeling sheepish and out of place suddenly, you drop your gaze, your face contorts to a light grimace. “No, sorry.”

“Whaaatt?” Fives' eyes are blown wide. You two are left together for a moment as Deven and Jesse move towards their playing table. “Then what’re you doin’ here?”

“Oh y'know, Dev dragged me out so I'm stuck here, I guess,” you shrug, and you can't help but scratch the back of your head. You decide to neutralize the awkward situation when you catch a terminal for ordering on the side table. “But I'm in for the drink too!”

Still grinning, Fives waves you off and returns to the table, immediately leaning over and taking aim – turns out it's his turn, just in time. Humming to the overhead music as it's familiar to you, you take a seat at the booth as you scan the terminal and grab your drink order for the night. Nothing heavy, just soda and some tropical syrup with a little splash of spirit.

Feeling bad for coming and not contributing much in the interaction, you add in a large portion of snack platter to your order for the boys. When the server droid comes sliding in with your drink and the snack platter, your spot gets crowded momentarily with grateful faces and fingers picking at the various fried stuff. One of the troopers, whose name is Tup, takes the moment to introduce himself, and the others follow suit, leaving you feeling warm and sated and it breaks down whatever bias of your opinion that stuck to these boys in white.

“Hey, roomie!” Fives shouts from the table while you swat Hardcase away from sipping on your drink. “Why don't you play?”

“Hell no, you play!” you yell back above the music's bass, muttering sorry for accidentally hitting Kix after Hardcase apparently skitters away. You turn back to the table. “Just here hangin’. Don't wanna ruin your competitive mood with my zero experience.”

“Relax dude, we're no experts ourselves,” Jesse walks in your direction for the snack, “My bridge is still wobbly, y'know?”

You… don't know what that means. “Uh-huh.”

“Echo can teach you,” your Zabrak roommate says suddenly.

The pauldroned trooper on the other side of the table breaks out of his focus, double taking in their direction with a combined expression of clueless and shock. “Dev, what?”

“Yeah, he's the best out of us all!” Fives not so discreetly plays along, his face splits into a grin and his eyes sparkle giddily under the light, “After Deven, of course!”

Echo looks at them in disbelief, but blinks away his stupor. “Sure, why not,” he shrugs, reaching for the little chalk square. Casually chalking his cue tip, he smiles towards you, and nods to the spot at his side. “Over here, please? You can use my cue, too.”

Rolling your eyes, you give in and make your way, but not before throwing a glare at your roommate, with whom Fives strikes a blatantly loud high-fives (heh).

Dogma is already leaning over the table and striking, the cue ball hitting and pocketing the 8-ball to one of the middle pockets. Jesse audibly groans in defeat, Deven immediately calming him down. Kix quietly pockets the balls to be gathered. Fives is off to the side to freshen up. Tup chuckles and pats Dogma in the back before heading to a little terminal on the side to record the scores. It's read 4-3 for you, Dogma's side, and whoever's with him, winning. The numbers almost immediately make you feel bad, meaning they've been here quite a while.

Almost immediately, an attendant droid hovers to the table (apparently your table too now since you're playing) and pulls out a tray of collected pool balls from underneath the table, about to set it for a new game.

“The triangle thing is called the rack,” Echo explains beside you, striking up conversation. “It's racking the balls for a new game.”

Nodding, you observe the droid racking neatly, its movement neat and precise. “The 8-ball has to be in the middle?”

“Yeah. And the 1-ball always in the front.”

“Oh,” you awe, “Just noticed.”

Echo looks at you, lips curling into a small smile of your simple show of wonder. “Mhm.”

“Tup,” Kix calls a bit louder above the music, “You break, brother.”

Tup wordlessly nods – you just know he's the shy type – as he hands his cue to Dogma and reaches for another one that rests by the seating booth. You notice that it's shorter in length, and thus sturdier.

“Break is the initial shot to spread out the racked balls,” Echo says again beside you. You turn to him, but his attention is intense at Tup chalking the new cue stick's tip. He glances at you, and smirks a little at the loss painted all over your face. He jabs a thumb at Tup, who's already aiming. “That's a break cue. Shorter than the reg ones to give more control and power. You want to break it clean, as hard and as straight as possible.”

As if cued (heh), Tup launches his strike – the sturdier break cue emits a loud crack noise as it hits the cue ball hard, and true. In a blinding speed, the white ball strikes and spreads the racked ball almost evenly and totally scattered across the table, but you notice there's no other balls pocketed yet. So that has to mean it's still free for everyone. You're sure there's a term for that.

“Nice one Tup,” you watch Deven praises, giving him a thumbs up as he passes by to return the break cue, “You're learning fast.”

Sighing, Echo's stance relaxes as the game begins. But you both make no move closer to the table yet – Echo and you put some distance from the edge and give more space to the others. Turns out, Deven is with Jesse (obviously), Kix, and Hardcase on a team while on the other hand Tup and Dogma are a package, just as Fives and Echo is. You and Echo are counted as one. With these many people, you're certain even one game is going to finish quite fast.

Realizing he should've been a little more vocal because he's supposed to teach you, Echo acknowledges your silence and finds you watching Deven strikes for their turn. Shifting his cue to the other hand, he nudges your elbow gently with his. “Sorry I forgot to ask; you know anything basic about 8-ball?”

You try to rake in your scattered knowledge from the teetering edges of your mind. It's been a long time since you've played, and you've only played once. “Sort of,” you answer, shrugging.

Oh resounds in Echo's head in realization. He thinks you've never played at all, but he intently and patiently listens to the ramble of your knowledge in possession.

“Solids against stripes, avoid hitting the 8-ball. It's for the last. Basically don't try to touch anything except you're given the, uh…” you catch his raised eyebrows at your loss of term, your voice growing smaller in sheepishness, “you can move the white ball… thingy?”

“Ball-in-hand?”

“Oh that's what it's called?” you let out an awkward laugh. Echo chuckles, nodding his head, prompting you to continue. You grin at his encouragement, comfortable ease floods in your chest. “Try not to pocket the cue ball. That's foul, you give your opponent a… ball-in-hand.”

Echo briefly turns to the table when Fives' voice calls for a shot at one of the stripes. Oh, no longer open table. With a quick visual sweep of his ARC prowess, he maps the striped balls and nods approvingly when Fives pockets his object ball, no rules broken. 

“It’s called scratch,” he then easily picks up where you both left off.

You silently awe at his multifocus – he was quiet and watching the table for more than 10 seconds until Fives struck for the second time, but he's able to continue your topic and provide the legal terms for the game.

“And that’s everything. Nice, for someone who doesn't even play. Occasionally,” adds Echo with emphasis after you give him a look, his smile breaks into a sly toothy grin. Forgetting one… or two, or more rules, his face lights up as he rambles, “Oh, almost everything. Cue ball must strike your object ball. If not, foul. Cue ball must hit the rail. If not, foul.”

You scrunch up your nose as you take the new stuff in. Echo can feel his heart do a mini backflip at your expression. “That's a lot of rules,” you comment.

“That's only two,” he chuckles, the noise sounding… kind of sweet in your ears. Invigorating, like music. Not the overhead electronic music, but a gentler one with the beautiful melodies of an acoustic string instrument. “Among others,” Echo says, gazing straight into your eyes, “We're just applying what's mandatory.”

You break his gaze first before you swim too far and too deep into his golden orbs. You realize his eyes are brighter than the rest. Curiosity strikes you and embeds itself in your mental list of questions to be asked later.

“Pool is one of those games where you watch and learn,” Dogma says the first time in that hour to you, who's taken to stand near you and Echo to observe the game from a better angle. His stare at you is hard, but with a note of friendliness. “You observe other people play. See how they aim, how they strike. Their stance, even.”

You nod, taking it in. “You play every time you're planetside?”

“Almost every time,” Hardcase chimes in as he passes by. His turn is already up and now he's reaching for more food and a few sips of (hopefully not your) drink. He hops onto the booth and picks up a fritter. “We haven't played for a month! Can you imagine that?! When the word came in that we're getting a week long leave, we hit this place immediately like a pack of mad rancors.”

“Cute,” you grin, turning to Echo upon instinct. “A clone haunt, huh?”

“Just us, actually,” he answers, smiling fondly, “And a few other squads from other battalions. It's a little secret, kind of.” He shrugs, then leans closer to you and lowers his voice, “The owner is, uh, a partner. To one of us, too. From our company.”

“Ah, got it,” you nod, smiling cheekily. “Lucky guy.”

“Oh yeah,” Dogma deadpans beside you, watching Kix pocketing his object ball but his cue ball doesn't even bounce against the rail. Dogma sighs, walking away from you and down the table. “That's penalty, Kix.”

The medic grunts in frustration. Jesse pats him in the back and points his cue subtly at Echo. “Your turn, brother.”

“Hey you can't give a ball-in-hand to a shiny,” Hardcase protests from his seat, still munching on his fritter, “That's cheating.”

You don't understand what shiny means, but it's definitely directed at you. While you let Echo silently lead you closer to the table by your elbow, you turn slightly at the blue-tattooed trooper. “Ya just don't like me ‘cause I didn't give you my better drink, Hardcase,” you stick out your tongue at him, and receive the same childish gesture in return. The group chuckles.

Echo tugs at your sleeve to recollect your focus to the game. “Here. I'll pick something easy for you yet,” he says, cue ball already in his hand. He observes the field for a split second. “13-ball, top right.”

You frown at his choice. At this moment, there's also 10-ball near the designated pocket by the rail, and it's closer to the pocket. “Why not the other one?” you ask him.

“Eh, it's a little trickier for you,” he shrugs, then places the cue ball behind your object ball within a considerable distance. You’d like to imagine the gears turning in his head as he does the math and stuff. “You gotta learn how to strike straight first,” Echo says again, turning to you and smiling encouragingly a little. “And true.”

“It wouldn't even pocket even if it's dead straight?”

He nods lightly, handing you his cue. “It’s a possibility.”

Echo watches you observe his cue (taken from the stands by the wall and not of his own, disappointingly) and test it for balance in your hands. “Alright, so,” you prompt – resting the cue by your foot and placing a hand on your hip, you smile sweetly at him (his heart is doing a mini backflip again), “What do I do, teach?”

It takes an extra second for Echo to break out of his stupor. You just suddenly look… daring and adorable to him. He praises your courage to even take part, albeit a little shy in the beginning. And now you're asking a lot of questions and his guidance, eager to play right. Probably not to embarrass yourself in front of the boys (it's true), but it's quite a courageous value, still, even if it's just a game.

Well, pool is a serious game, in his opinion. Every turn is precious and can't be wasted. No more of that only matters if I just hit mindset – feels like he just wants to wallop whoever says that in the back. It's always strike true and pocket.

But seeing you tonight, clueless and yet laid back, he can't help but follow your gait and mood. He's a little relaxed tonight because of you (usually he's even more tense, even more than Dogma, can you believe that, because of his pool is a serious game take), and well, it feels good meeting and talking with you. You're easy, you show that you want to follow, and you're eager to learn. Those traits captivate him naturally.

“Right, uh, here.” Standing next to you, Echo taps his own thighs, still encased in armor, and gestures for you to follow. “Stance first. Spread your legs a bit, so you get comfortable when you lean over the table.”

You can't help but suck your lips at the unintentional innuendo. Kriff, you need to get yourself together. You’ve only just played! You don't know if Echo notices too. If he does, he doesn't say anything. Blushing, you don't dare to turn around fully and look up at his… charming features. Just like Fives, minus the tattoo and goatee. Well, they're clones after all. But still…

You do as he told, putting your foot slightly behind, but not leaning over the table yet. “Next?”

Echo's expression is patient and gentle as he goes to explain, “You form a bridge. It's your hand position to rest your cue before you strike. Here, do this.”

You follow his direction; you hold out your non-dominant hand and glue your fingers together like you're doing a salute. Then you spread them out minus your thumb, its first phalange sticking out to the side.

You nod vigorously, excitement bubbling in your chest at finally getting the game right. “Uh huh?”

“Put it on the table,” Echo directs you again, “Then raise your fingers like this.” You copy his hand that's placed merely inches from yours; raising your knuckles so your spread fingers form arches. Kinda sore and stings, but you're sure you'll get used to it. “That's called open bridge,” Echo says, his cadence resounding his pride at you. “Now put your cue in between your thumb and your first knuckle. Ah, see? It's high ground advantage. Easy to strike the middle of the cue ball.”

You try to see the trajectory beyond your bridging hand. It's just as he said, the cue tip merely a couple inches right in the middle of the cue ball. “Ah, I see, okay.”

“Right, now you lean over and take aim.”

Nervously and suddenly aware, you glance around nervously, meeting the other's gazes who aren't sitting by the booth. “Sorry if this takes too long.”

“No worries, roomie. We'd been at your position too once,” Jesse nods reassuringly to you.

“Yeah, take as much time as you want,” Kix joins in, smiling a bit.

“You don't wanna be brief and just strike away after only two seconds of aiming,” Dogma lectures, his tone patient and his expression softens at you, “Aim right. This needs practice and precision.”

“Chillax, Dogma. They're just learning,” Jesse chastises him gently. The other man shrugs and moves away.

You shift your attention away and breathe your focus, leaning it and slightly bending over the table. Echo hovers by your side and slightly into your space above your body to see the trajectory. “Like this?” you ask just to be sure.

Your eyes straight at your cue ball, you can only imagine him nodding his head. “Mhm, just avoid being sore. Are you comfy?”

“Uh.” You shift your body. Yeah, uh, something's a bit not making you comfy, but all you're saying is, “I guess?”

Echo can hear the doubt in your voice, and he intends to help. Glancing down your bent body, he can feel nervous sweat gathering under his gloves. Yeah, he can spot the way your shoulders are too tense, your foot a little not right. There's a few seconds of silence – you wish you could hear his thoughts – then he pipes up, if not after gulping, “Do you mind if I–”

“Yeah yeah, go ahead,” you say easily, and you can hear a loud exhale of relief coming from him.

Echo's gentle hands on your shoulders are somewhat settling. There's a part of you hoping for a slight graze of the fabric of his gloves on your neck to feel the shivers that would feel so delic– OKAY stop. He directs you, shifting you to the side – gingerly, almost timid, but his grip is firm on you. Then he taps on your shoulder, prompting you to roll it back slightly and relax and– yeah okay that feels better. You've been too tense, just like he expected. Softly, he taps the inside of your shoe with his boot to fix your stance, his hand on your waist to steady you and lets go once he thinks it's perhaps comfortable for you.

“Okay there?” he asks.

You succeed in not glancing back at him because you're blushing furiously right now and you don't want him to see your reaction. Even a while after he lets go of you, you can still feel the ghosts of his gentle grip on your waist. “Yep, better.”

Echo sighs in relief. “Good. Now; is your dominant eyesight left or right?”

You try to squint each of your eyes back and forth. “Right, I guess?”

“It's supposed to help you. You lean over, take aim, that eye is parallel with the cue. Go try.” Batting away his nervousness and fully relying on his boldness now, Echo leans over you to line up with your eyesight – you can feel his armor pressing against your body, but he doesn't put on too much weight so he wouldn't mush you in. “See? Straight, yeah? You wanna strike as straight as possible. But get comfortable with however fits you, that's what matters.”

You relish in how proper this all looks, thanks to Echo. “Got it,” you grin, but pain strikes your arched fingers suddenly. “Uh, I think my hand's sore.”

“Just relax!” he laughs, and you enjoy the way his crow’s feet emerge in the corner of his eyes. It makes him even more charming under the light. He taps your bridge softly with his gloved hand, still smiling, “I can even see your muscles tensing.”

Nervously, you laugh along. “Well, it's my first time, trooper!”

“Kriff, if I close my eyes and sit back, pretty sure I'm listening to first-time porn audio.”

“FIVES!” the boys bark, except for Deven (who's snorting behind their hand), Kix (groaning and facepalming), and Hardcase (fallen to the floor, vibrating and clutching his stomach).

Both you and Echo bath in bashful redness, suddenly remembering that you haven't been playing on your own.

“What?! You both sound like it!” Fives protests loudly, his lips slowly split into his own trademarked shit-eating grin.

“That's still inappropriate! In public, too!” Dogma chastises.

Echo rolls his eyes. You swear you can see his cheeks darken. “Sorry about that idiot. Don't mind him,” he says in a small voice, apologetic and sheepish, his hand flying to the back of his head. Then his attention darts to your bridge hand and having just remembered your sore hand condition, he steps closer to your space and plucks off your hand by the wrist. “Here,” he offers, replacing your hand, “I'll bridge for you.”

You can't hold your giggles much longer, contained from all the completely unintentional suggestive talk and Fives' recent teasing. “So kind of you, Echo,” you remark gleefully as you side glance at him. You enjoy how his eyes widen and– yeah, that's him blushing like crazy.

Especially when both your faces are merely inches from one another.

He blinks rapidly. “Uh, just helping.”

“Right-o,” you chuckle sweetly. Blush creeps into your cheeks at his subtle nervousness. Well, there's no point of hiding from his dead-on gaze at your face now, is there? You hum, “So next? I just hit?”

As if remembering something, he twists his body to look across your back. “Nah, not yet. Your grip hand’s a little off.”

“Oh,” you breathe, consciously stretching your fingers that's holding the cue, already expecting him to help you, and yeah for sure, that's what he does.

“Here, scoot near the butt end.” Echo grips your cue instead to allow your hand to slide back experimentally. “Should allow a smoother motion. Feel it?”

You try to swing it back and forth, feeling it a little nicer and smoother for you to move, and careful for the tip cue not touching the cue ball ahead. “Oh yeah.”

He then gently hovers his hand above your elbow, tapping it a couple of times. “And you should move it– swing it by your elbow. Not your shoulder. You swing and you just kind of push, with an amount of force, then strike as straight as you can.”

The previous boldness dissipating not thanks to Fives for that unnecessary mature teasing, Echo can feel it returning, and boy is he grateful.

Because his damn bold curiosity is breathed back into him and it makes him intrigued to just… close the distance. Shame he's in his armor, the plastoid pieces preventing him from feeling the rush of your jacket’s fabric against his and the warmth emanating from the ridges of your body. You just look… warm to him. Your smile, your blush, and your eagerness. He would… perhaps, like to lean in to know more.

Also because he's about to lean over and put his arm around your body, his arm no longer hovering across your back but resting against, his gloved fingers wrapping around the cue, yours trapped beneath his palm. The grip wouldn't be tight and pressing at all, instead it would feel, hopefully, comforting. Safe. Because he's there ensuring you to actually pull this.

So he does just that.

With his other arm stretched out to form a flawlessly steady open bridge in your place, his position allows him to look down at you intensely, more than he expected that he almost reels back, but he stands his ground.

A smile forms in his lips. “Got it now?”

Again, he wishes he can feel the warmth of you.

Almost breathlessly, you meet Echo's gaze daringly, admiring the golden specks of his irises, glancing down to his lips but you too, stand your ground, as you utter, “Yessir.”

Having not expected that, he gulps audibly, his boldness faltering and he almost wants to smack himself for that. So much for– y'know what nevermind. “Uh. Yeah. Okay.”

“Keep it there, Echo, time's ticking!” Deven yells over, almost warningly but you don't sense harshness in their tone. Except probably teasing. You huff quietly as you shift your focus to your cue ball. “Another minute like that and they'll earn the Mon Cala shrimp pose.”

With your shoulder stretched far back… yeah, you won't lie. Deven's right. It's getting a little sore. But you never want to blame Echo for the time. This has been a very thorough teaching, thanks to him, and you're starting to get everything right away.

Fives jogs over on tippy toes lifting his knees (for what, nobody knows). Almost crashing onto Echo, he carefully observes the imaginary trajectory you'd pull. Then with a noisy rustle of armor, he appears by your other side and sticks his forefinger onto the table. “Here, try to hit here,” he suggests.

You frown. It's not even dead straight, but… well, these boys haven't done anything wrong to you yet, so you trust him.

“Ah,” Echo deadpans beside you, yet it sounds genuine, “Thanks for the help, twin.”

Twin? you wonder internally. Okay, already added to questions to be asked later.

“Ready?” Echo asks you, his tone back to being gentle and patient as you've known him. Is he different around his brothers? Around you? Added to questions to be asked later. Or probably, don't ask. Maybe you'll be on the lookout for a long while.

“Uh-huh. Yep. Ready.”

You breathe. Echo follows beside you, close, you can almost feel his exhale caressing your cheek. You follow his retracting arm, and the cue strikes with calculated speed and force that it sends your object ball hard into the pocket.

So hard, that the cue ball follows too. Not so calculated after all.

You laugh and mutter ah that's fine, but Echo burns with embarrassment. He could've been better. And he's supposed to be a pro after your roommate. Oh well. At least he gets to be near you.

“Foul.” Give it to Dogma to break the already sad celebratory mood.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious. Didn't know you're the referee,” Fives deadpans, arms folded across his chest.

“But still.” Hardcase raises from his spot at your targeted pocket (you don't even know when he got there) and wiggles his eyebrows at Echo. “Nice one, brother.”

Echo grunts, already gotten up and put some distance between you both. “Shut up, ‘Case.”

“That's fine! I got to learn,” you chirp, leaning against your cue stick smugly. Your sweet toothy grin and radiating positivity are sending Echo's heart on a series of cartwheels this time. 

The bald clone snickers at you both. “6-ball middle left pocketzzz!”

“Must you do that?” complains Kix, handing him the cue ball.

“Nope. Just wanna.”

Chuckling, you drown out their shenanigans and tug at Echo to move away from the table, giving some distance to the boys who've rejoined. You wonder how much time that had taken just for your turn alone, but judging by their indifferent demeanor, your insecurities deplete. Yeah, you can handle this. With Echo, you both can handle this.

You can't help but glance at the man. He's in his own world again, golden pair of eyes focused on the table.

Then you can't help but be reminded of your closeness earlier, too. His plastoid armor pieces pressing against you, but not pinning you down. You feel your chest blossom with warmth at his care and attention. He's such a gentleman. Even when he's focused to guide you, he takes precedence of your comfort, too. 

Not long after, Dogma calls out, momentarily gaining your attention, “10-ball, top right.”

You turn to Echo, noticing the pattern a little too late. “Do you have to call like that before you hit?”

He smiles at you. He doesn't think he'd get bored of your many questions – pool related or not. “That's call shot,” he explains, “Another rule we're applying in the game. It's when you have to call out your object ball and your target pocket. If you do anything other than that, it's foul.”

You backtrack to when Echo picks the target for you. “Oh you did that.”

He shrugs one one shoulder, the one blue pauldron shifting when he does. “Yeah, I did.”

Blue. A marking of his battalion? Which battalion? You don't even know the basics of their army structure and you didn't even wanna know which trooper from which battalion, but… now you wanna know, especially Echo's. You've heard it's numbers. Maybe you'd ask? Yeah, more to add to questions to be asked later.

Fine, there's a lot of questions already stored in that mental list. And now the atmosphere is relaxed, Echo is in his zone observing the others, and you can't help but feel the ghosts of his hands, his touch, on your waist earlier.

“You um,” you clear your throat. Man, here we go, the other side of you whines. “You want me to do the call shots?”

Echo glances at you, smiling. How many times he's smiled at you tonight, you don't count. You've been busy listening to his calming voice and staring at his sharp cheekbones, and mulling over his touch and his concern over your comfort. “Sure,” he says, “Just pick the easiest you think you can pocket.”

You bite your lip. “...On you?”

He double takes, brows furrowing deeper in each turn of the head. “Uh, what?”

You trudge forward fearlessly, barricading yourself from the intention of backing down as you dare, “Calling the shot on you?”

Echo's lips part in dumbfounded silence.

And you want nothing but crawl into a hole and die from embarrassment. “I– sorry I didn't mean you're easy, it's just you're… okay. You're nice and– just– kriff.” You stare at him, cheeks burning. Red, you're sure. Really red. Just… well done. You finally take the shot outright, “You wanna grab a drink?”

He hasn't said anything, but you're sure his cheeks are tinged with pink. You let out a breathy, awkward laugh because well that's not a 100% failed attempt but still.

“That was so bad I know–”

“I-I’d love to,” he interrupts you, “Grab a drink with you.”

It's your turn to be dumbfounded. “Oh,” escapes your lips, followed by another laughter that brings you back to his equally awkward smile and glimmering golden eyes. “Great! Take a break, yeah? Aren't you tired of your brothers?”

“Eh, they're alright. Got used to it. Brothers, y'know?” Echo laughs, the pleasant sound sends your stomach aflutter. He smiles sweetly at you, offering, “After this one?”

“Sure,” you grin, “After this one.”

Taglist: @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @msmeredithrose

A/N: You can request for x reader in my askbox! If you're interested in my clone x reader oneshots you can sign up as well to be tagged of future works. (Link provided)

[the-chains-are-the-easy-part]

HONESTLY HOW DARE YOU

"Hey guys, I made some cookies for dessert. I hope you like the blumfruit ones, it's a new recipe :)".

Savage hasn't even sat down to eat! He's been cooking all evening and he just brought a batch of tasty cookies! Now, the kitchen can become really warm after using the oven nonstop, and clothes tend to become... rather bothersome.

One would think that Maul, a chest displaying connoisseur wouldn't even bat an eye at the sight of his shirtless brother, but the truth is, up until now he had only seen him wearing his armor! "Where the kriff did his clothes go?", he thinks to himself. Feral, on the other hand is quite familiar with this kind of situation and doesn't even notice. "Thank you for the great meal, Savage ♥" he says politely. He's one lucky zabrak :).

Now, here's the thing. . . . Here's how he actually showed up 🥴 🥴 

go ahead, shame me!! the mischief is done >:)!! Sorry for the lazy backgrounds, I'm kinda dead after working on this, for several reasons.

Taglist (let me know if you want in ^^): @dukeoftheblackstar @justalittletomato @darthmaulshispanichousewife @botherbother-blog @aftergloom @badolmen @ihaventpickedausername @ohboi @stardustbee @nik-barinova @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @gen-has-green-vibes @ejfivercommander @herbalinz-of-yesteryear @eyecandyeoz @noesqape

[freesia-writes]

Pets4Vets: Jesse (1/4)

Chapter 1 of 4 - Word Count: 3.2k - Jesse x Fem Reader Master List

“Thanks for dinner,” she said quietly, shifting her eyes from her plate to his and crossing one arm across herself to rub the outside of the other. 

“Yeah baby,” Jesse purred with a cocky grin. “I mean, I got the dinner but you brought the dessert.”

“Huh?”

“You’re a treat,” he said with a wag of his eyebrows. “Want to take the party back to your place?”

“Oh, um. I’ve got to work early, so I think that’s all I’ve got time for now. But thanks again,” she offered, trying to mask the cringe on her face with a disingenuous smile. 

“Alright, your loss… heheh…”

“Yeah…”

They made their way to the door of the restaurant, Jesse holding it open for her as she shuffled awkwardly past him. She hesitated on the sidewalk, turning back to face him with that same feeble grin. Another thanks for dinner. An offer to walk her home. Declined. A question about another date. After a long, uneasy pause, that was also declined.

Jesse kept up his best face, chest puffed and confidence set firmly in place, until she disappeared around the corner, then he slumped, turning to begin his own walk home. A glance at the chrono reminded him that he wasn’t allowed back in the apartment he shared with Kix for another hour and a half… The cramped flat they rented together didn’t allow for much privacy, and his roommate had been excited to take advantage of the alone time with his partner from Right to Love, a matchmaking service for clones wanting to live as freely as they were able since the war had ended and they were released from service. 

The endless flashing lights of the Coruscant streets were oppressively bright as he plodded aimlessly, unsure of where to go. A deep sense of resentment was growing within, and he didn’t realize he was muttering under his breath until a few strange looks from passersby clued him in. Many of his brothers had found immediate success with Right to Love, now experiencing the joys of a relationship in ways they’d never thought possible when they’d been nothing more than property their entire lives. And yet here he was, having tried to connect with five different people now, each one entirely put off by the end of the first date. His assigned case manager at Right to Love had assured him that matches weren’t always perfect the first time around, and sometimes the process took a little longer to ensure the ideal fit. 

Doubt was growing in the pit of his stomach as he walked. What was it about him that was getting in the way? He was throwing himself wholeheartedly into this pursuit, and yet each attempt seemed to be less encouraging than the last. The resentment began to coil in his chest, heating up into anger, and he leaned into it. Anger was familiar. Anger, he could deal with. It made him feel powerful and in control, pushing aside any tendrils of fear or sadness that lay at its core. A sign up his head caught his eye, and he turned abruptly to barge through the door. 

Music thumped inside, the small crowd on the dance floor moving as one to the beat, and he jostled his way around the edge to find a seat at the bar. He waited for a while, watching the bartender help customer after customer, including those that had arrived after him. When the man began polishing some glasses, Jesse finally called out, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Can I get some service here?”

The bartender slowly finished wiping his glass, sidling down to the end and resting his palms on the counter with no attempt to hide the disdain on his face. 

“Did your giant face tattoo block you from seeing the sign on the door?” he drawled. “No clones. Go back to your own district.”

“You’re living in the past,” Jesse growled, the snake in his chest twisting and hissing. “Credits are credits. What does it matter who they come from?” 

“Just get out,” exhorted a Zabrak on the stool beside him who’d had his back firmly turned to him from the start. “Before we make you.”

He’d had enough.

“Go ahead and try,” he snarled, smacking a fist on the counter and rising to his feet. The Zabrak was in his face immediately, flanked by a nat-born and a Weequay who looked far too excited to throw hands. 

“Know your place,” the nat-born taunted, leaping forward to throw a swing, which Jesse dodged and countered with one of his own, sinking a fist into the man’s stomach and earning a satisfying grunt of pain. The brawl exploded, quickly changing the three-on-one situation into an entire mob set on teaching the clone a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. The ARC trooper held his own, ducking and swinging, using leverage to toss one body into another, but the blows were coming from every direction. A foot to the back of his knee knocked him off balance, right into someone else’s fist.

The next thing he knew, he was unceremoniously thrown onto the sidewalk among a litany of curses and insults, and he scrambled to his feet, body throbbing with numerous bruises from the punches and kicks that had landed as he’d tried to hold them all off. His nose was bleeding, and he wiped it on his sleeve before pinching it hard, stalking toward his building in a tornado of rage. 

He sat outside on the stoop for the remaining hour, ruminating on the sheer injustice of it all. But eventually, the hot indignation quieted, and in the stillness, he fought to stuff down the disappointment that whispered judgment and failure in its place. 

* * * 

“Come on, give it a try.” Kix straightened his scrubs as Jesse slouched against his bedroom doorway. “It’ll be a different dynamic. Might be helpful.”

“I don’t need help,” Jesse scoffed, folding his arms across his broad chest. 

“I know,” Kix affirmed quickly, “But the food carts in the square are delicious. So bring your next date and just come along for that.” He smoothed a hand over his neatly-cut hair and tilted his head at his mirror, checking that the first few letters of his head tattoo were hidden as much as possible by his dark locks. The medical clinic he worked at had some fairly strict rules around personal appearance, and considering how difficult it was to find clone-friendly jobs, no matter how qualified they were, he wasn’t about to risk losing his placement over something as trivial as that. 

“Fine,” Jesse huffed. “I’m doing this for the ronto wraps, you know.”

Kix grinned, clapping him on the back and squeezing his shoulder as he headed for the front door. “You’ve been doing too much upper-body, vod. Have a leg day.”

“Hah. Go clean some crusty old geezers, di’kut.”

“Oh please. I’m saving lives out there,” Kix threw over his shoulder as the door closed behind him. Jesse sighed. That did seem like a much better purpose than his own job as a personal trainer at a local gym, where most of his clients were flaky hopefuls who wanted to get into shape without putting in the time and work that it required. It paid well enough, though, and gave him an outlet for a sense of purpose as well as a place to exercise. If he were honest, he’d hoped he’d meet someone there, figuring they’d be more aligned with his interests and lifestyle, but after months upon months of dismal prospects, he’d gone ahead and applied at Right to Love. He sighed, turning to rummage in the cooling chamber until it was time for work.

* * * 

Days of work and leisure blended together, and Jesse found himself spending more time at the gym, adding cardio sessions on top of his bodybuilding regimen as a way to blow off steam. He finally got another match from Right to Love and agreed to go on the double date with Kix and his partner, laboring a disproportionate amount of time over what to wear. He didn’t want to admit it, but with each date he felt increasingly desperate. Desperate to prove that there wasn’t something wrong with him. Desperate to feel like he had access to the whole variety of options for a “normal” life. Desperate to enjoy the care, intimacy, and connection that some of his brothers had found. 

He straightened the long-sleeved henley shirt and rolled up the sleeves a little. Ladies loved the forearms, right? Slipping a wallet into his back pocket, he checked his reflection one last time and ventured into the living room where Kix was waiting for him. 

“Here goes nothing,” he grumbled. 

“That’s the spirit,” Kix nodded sagely, a fond smirk on his face.

The square had a weekly event where all the food carts in the vicinity would gather to offer their delectable delicacies, and there really was something for everyone, making it a very popular attraction. Jesse swaggered beside his date, Kix and his partner bringing up the rear, and shared stories of valor and bravery as she nodded and made small sounds of agreement here and there. The four of them had shared some snacks from a variety of vendors and were now walking it off along the city streets. 

Coming to a somewhat scenic overlook of a steep dropoff with many Coruscant levels stretching down below, the four of them sat on a couple of benches. Kix stretched his arm across his partner’s shoulders, and they nestled into his side with an affectionate gaze. Jesse shifted awkwardly beside his date, a beautiful redhead that made his mouth go dry when he tried to talk. Yet he’d pushed past it with bravado and confidence, he felt simultaneously certain and completely unsure of her interest. Kix was murmuring in his date’s ear, bringing a demure smile to their face, and Jesse turned to look at the redhead beside him. 

“So… You mentioned some adventures in the jungle… Did I tell you about our campaign on Felucia?” he asked, launching into the story before she was able to respond. He wove an exhilarating tale of their encounter with both Separatist forces and the Commerce Guild, finishing with a flourish and grinning proudly. 

“Sounds like the war was wild,” she offered.

“You’re karking right it was,” he laughed, attempting to slip his arm around her shoulder as well, but she stood up quickly. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I… I’m gonna go.” 

Jesse watched her leave, speechless, then was flooded with embarrassment as he felt the eyes of Kix and his partner on his back. He slowly turned to face them, and the empathetic looks on their faces added insult to the injury. 

“See you at home,” he muttered to his brother, nodding to Kix’s partner and stuffing his hands in his pockets as he trudged back to their apartment. Kix watched him for a long time, nodding at the murmured condolences from his partner, who was incredibly kind and gentle, both admiring and strong in their own right, and he was regularly blown away at the fact that he’d been able to find them. Their compassion only served to deepen his own hope that his brother could find whatever it was he was looking for. 

* * * 

The next morning, a much-needed day off of work for both of them, Jesse was sprawled on the couch with a lazy hand resting on the steaming mug of caf on the nearby side table. Kix was scrambling some eggs in the kitchen, casting the occasional glance over the counter at his brother’s dejected slump. He was torn; Jesse was notoriously stubborn, but Kix also knew him better than most anyone else, and if he kept continuing in the same pattern, he would likely keep getting the same result. He flipped the eggs one more time and turned off the burner, scattering some shredded cheese over the top of them and putting a lid over the pan to melt it all together. 

“You… uh… seemed different last night,” he ventured, picking up his own caf, now mostly cold, and sitting in the armchair across from the downcast clone. 

“Mmm,” was the only response. 

“Does it always go that way?”

“Mmm.”

“What’s… What’s with the swagger stuff?” Kix asked, abandoning the subtlety. Jesse cast a hard look at him, but he caught the quickly-concealed flicker of hurt beneath the tattooed face.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t really seem like you. Did you answer the questionnaire honestly?”

“Yes!” Jesse said defensively, furrowing his brow.

“Well… then that might be why the dates aren’t going so well, if they’re expecting you to act… normal. You’re smart and pretty down-to-earth most of the time. Last night it felt more like you were trying to prove yourself somehow.”

His words stung, and Jesse balked at the feeling of being perceived so accurately. But a sense of resignation had settled in again, and he shrugged, attempting a nonchalant facade. 

“I’m just gonna get a pet. That’ll have to lo–... to put up with me, right?”

“Sure,” Kix sighed. “I’ve heard good things about P4V.”

“Look, di’kut, I know I can’t even get a second date, let alone some bedroom action, but I don’t think I have the credits for a sex worker… At least not a good one.”

“Classy as always,” Kix rolled his eyes. “It’s not a brothel, it’s called Pets 4 Vets. They have a variety of service animals to help with the difficult aspects of adjusting to civilian life.”

“I want a good-sized Massiff, not some fluffy little Loth-rat to lick me when I have ‘big feelings’,” Jesse snorted. 

“Kriff, you are thick sometimes.”

“Just these thighs.”

“Right. Just try it.”

“We’ll see.”

* * * 

You stroked a hand down the bogling's back, running fingers along the soft fur of its fluffy tail. It leaned into your touch with a contented noise, and you closed the cage behind it, watching it begin delicately eating its food before moving to the next kennel. You’d been working at Pets 4 Vets for a while now, and you felt thoroughly at home amid a great group of coworkers and an even better assortment of animals from every corner of the galaxy. They were all either in the process or finished with their training to be emotional support animals for the veterans who had served the Republic so well. You’d been a little unsure around the clones at first, not having spent any time with them before this, but they’d grown on you quite a bit and you’d been amazed at the complexity and individuality of each one. You’d also developed a knack for pairing them with animals, although it still took a few tries at times. 

“Good morning, tookas,” you said warmly as you slid the food bowl into the next crate, watching the two loth-cats eye it lazily from where they were curled around each other in the corner. They were a bonded pair, and last summer they had surprised the entire staff with a full litter of the most adorable babies you’d ever seen, who had since grown and been placed into loving homes. None of you had been too eager to see the parents leave, however, and it just so happened that none of the troopers so far had been the ideal match for them. The two of them roamed the clinic during the day, curling up near computer terminals or gracing guests in the lobby with their tails high in the air. At night, all the animals were tucked into their cozy kennels until morning, when they’d be fed and let out into their various programs for the day. Some had hours of training, others enjoyed free time inside or out, and some simply spent as much time as possible shadowing the clinic staff. 

“I wish I got breakfast in bed,” you murmured as you closed their door, watching the loth-cats yawn and nuzzle one another. You felt a deep sense of longing in your chest, and moved to the next cage to try to keep your mind from continuing on its current trajectory. But it was a lost cause. “Wish I had someone to wake up next to as well,” you continued. The dating scene hadn’t been kind to you, and if you were honest, you’d pretty much given up. Your friends urged you to keep the dream alive, to go on double dates with them and to meet the various eligible bachelors they knew, but nothing felt like a good fit. You assumed the problem was with you. And that was alright. You were happy enough on your own…you said. The clinic staff was a tightly-knit group, for the most part, and you authentically loved the animals. You felt fulfilled by the unconditional love you shared with each one, and you were so proud at the growth you got to witness as they went through training. 

The horde was fed, each one was released to its daily duty, and you began to clean all of the kennels, wondering if you should take your friend up on her offer to check out 79s. It felt completely out of your comfort zone, however. Not because of the clones, but you just generally weren’t a fan of loud, raucous environments, and you weren’t much of a drinker… So it didn’t seem like a very attractive prospect. As much as you were mocked for it, you weren’t really keen on one night stands, nor were you good at “keeping it casual”. You wanted a relationship with depth and longevity. Sometimes you wondered if the taunts about you were correct, that you had in fact watched too many cheesy holofilms and now had an unrealistic view of romance. 

Whatever.

A few hours of cleaning were followed by an hour or so at your computer, reviewing and categorizing the new applications. You didn’t realize you’d been completely hunched the entire time, your back rounded as you tapped away at the keys, and would have remained blissfully unaware if the receptionist hadn’t commented on it as soon as she popped in. 

“Geez, you look like a shrimp,” she laughed, dropping a data card on your desk. 

“You’re a bit of a cod yourself,” you teased, and she giggled, swatting your arm. “What’s this?”

“A new app. I was gonna bring him back here in person but he said he had lots of ‘big important stuff’ to do.” She rolled her eyes. “Quite the cocky one. He didn’t want to go through the interview process because he ‘knew what he wanted and it was a big dog’.” A chuckle followed the words as they both nodded. They were familiar with the type.

“Did you tell him he has to do an interview if he wants anything at all?”

“Yup. Said you’d contact him.”

“Lucky me.”

“Thought you might like a challenge. It’s been quiet for you lately,” she grinned.

“Considerate as always,” you smiled right back. 

“Have some fun with him. He could use someone taking him down a peg or two. Although I thought I could see the remnant of a black eye, so maybe someone already tried. He’s a big boy, too.” A suggestive wink.

“Oh boy. Can’t wait.”

Next Chapter

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[alterwatta]

Some more Maul! This time he's feeling conflicted in the company of a worried zabrak lol. I got an idea for a story which you can read beneath the cut if youre into my OC concept here :D

So what if Maul (still under Palpatine) is on some mission on lets say Coruscant, and he feels someone following him. He leads him into an alleway and turns on him but in his polite way lol, and the hooded guy reveals himself to be a Zabrak from Dathomir just like Maul, and hes beaten and bloody in the face like right after a fight but hes smiling at Maul going like, its you, its you! He tells Maul he remembers him from Dathomir and that hes kind of the reason he got inspired to flee the nightsisters( as hes one of the only ppl he remembers leaving the planet) and hes on coruscant making a living by being in underground boxing matches. He invites maul back to his place. Maul is intrigued and accepts. 'Foes are many and allies few, its important to keep count of both.' -type deal. Back at his place Maul is shocked to see a small child zabrak with no tattoos. He asks him about him and he tells him thats his son, and that he kidnapped him to give him a better life, since he remembers only ever killing his brothers, even those who hed love, he thought nothing good comes out of there and he wanted to risk everything for a better life. In fleeing from the nightsisters they threw a spell on him that should have killed him but destroyed only one of his hearts. This has made him have half the stamina of a usual zabrak, so he is equal to a human essentially. Maul carreses the wound over where his heart should be and the zabrak takes him upstairs for some sweet loving wuhuuu! Ill stop here and maybe ill even write this out if theres interest lol. Cheers everybody!

[fwtcanimelover]

Cal and Merrin being good adoptive parents to Kata.

This is what I kind of imagined a Merrical bio baby to look like. With the son being named after Jaro Tapal, but getting his own name as well.

I headcanon that all the bio merrical kids can teleport even as babies. The idea of a baby being able to teleport will never not be funny to me, and Greez being the one to discover it would be the icing in the cake. Also, if they did have bio kids, at least one of them would be a gremlin child.

Basically their son is offended that his bounty is the lowest in the family and thinks that he is worth far more credits then that, like it's some sort of competition on who can get the largest reward on their wanted poster.

The baby's name is Lillyana, who is named after Illyana but is given her own name, her nickname is Lilly. I tried to make the kids be a mixture of both Cal and Merrin. Lilly's hair colour is a mixture of Cal and Merrin's hair colour, with Jared's skin colour being a little bit of mixture of Cal and Merrin's skin colour.

Kata's lightsaber can extend to become a spear/pike kind of weapon so that she can incorporate a mixture of fighting styles from both Cal and Merrin, since she is being trained by both.

This is a what if Merrin had two biological brothers who ended up settling on Tanalor to help out their little sister. Since Jared is half Nightsister/Zabrak they expected him to have horns on his head like they do but are disgusted that he does not have any horns, while Jared is trying to turn his hair into horns but his hair is too floppy.

Anyway, I would've done more little funny scenarios, and have rough storyboards for them, but that would've taken an even longer amount of time. These took me a while to complete but it was worth it. Right now I'm tired. Anyway, I hope that you guys enjoy it and have a goodnight.