#if you’re so desperate to serve the empire why go work on a planet that’s kinda independent from it?

[hegodamask]

Something I think about a lot: how tf did Syril end up on Morlana One? You’d think with him being born on Coruscant there’d be more opportunities to get recruited by the ISB if he stayed there.

Like, did he choose Morlana One? Was he assigned there? Did he not have a choice if the job was indeed a handout from Uncle Harlo? Was it purely about getting away from Eedy? Much to think about.

[mandoalorian]

Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 3: The Escape ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2600>

Warnings: female masturbation

Series Masterlist

Din Djarin was the first Mandalorian warrior to set foot on Mandalore wearing full armour in decades. It wasn't an act of bravery or rebellion, although it would have certainly been interpreted that way. Din didn't know any different. In fact, apart from the odd glare, he hadn't even assumed he'd caused any trouble upon his approach to the palace.

He was so, very wrong.

"Moff Gideon, sir— a Mandalorian was spotted walking through the princess' palace back on Mandalore. He was seen with a child. We are led to believe that his entry to the palace was not authorized by an Imperial, but by the princess herself." one trooper informed, standing as straight and still as could be. Moff Gideon blinked momentarily and turned to face the bay window of the Imperial light cruiser. He looked amongst the stars as he contemplated the trooper's revelation.

You'd granted palace entry to a Mandalalorian in secret? That was the first sign of trouble. You, despite the front you upheld, were no longer the Manda'lor, but a captive of the Empire. You knew fine well that all entry to Mandalore must be granted by Moff Gideon himself… and this was the first time he'd heard of this. Nevertheless, Gideon was not one to panic. He remained calm and collected, although his blood boiled at your audacity to go against his commands.

"A child, you say?" Moff Gideon hummed casually, adjusting his black leather glove. Of course there was a specific child on his mind, but Moff Gideon knew better than to let himself worry over that. If a Mandalorian warrior had returned to Mandalore, it could be the first sign of mutiny. The first sign of your wishes to regain power and solitude to Mandalore the Great. "Do we know anything about the Mandalorian?" Moff Gideon questioned, deciding that the Mandalorian was his main concern.

"He was dressed in full beskar armour. Helmet included. According to ISB records, the child is an Imperial bounty. It seems he has been in possession by the Mandalorian for quite some time." The trooper informed, his entire body stiff.

That was when Moff Gideon knew for sure— it was the child he'd sought after for the past six months. The child who possessed the bloodstream of a force-sensitive, a Jedi even.

And now it just so happened that the Child was on Mandalore, the planet Moff Gideon held power over. It was perfect. Everything was falling into place for the Imperial reign. If the Moff could just get his hands on the child…

"Prepare my ship," Moff Gideon instructed, raising a finger. "Set course to Mandalore."

—-—-—

There wasn't a single room in the palace that Din wasn't in awe of. Now that he and Grogu had found comfort in your quarters, he checked out onto the balcony trying to find a good view of the Razor Crest. Upon inspection, it seemed like Imperial troopers were checking out Din's ship, which could never be a good thing. He turned back to you and watched as you fiddled with Grogu's ears.

You were beautiful; with the softest and most delicate features he'd ever had the opportunity to look at. Your voice was as sweet as honey and your eyes sparkled like the brightest star in the whole galaxy. Din was trying to work out when exactly would be the best time for him to explain the little marriage situation the Armorer had proposed to him before he left. It was clear as day that you already didn't like his creed; which meant he couldn't exactly be honest with you about his intentions.

He couldn't say 'Oh, my cut of the deal is that I marry you. And once we are united, I help you regain power over Mandalore, but we do it my way. We do it the traditional way. The way of the Watch'. You'd simply never allow it. No… Din had to be more cunning. He had to form a plan.

He wasn't happy to lie to you. You seemed nice enough, and your heart was in the right place. Already Grogu had taken a liking to you which was certainly a rarity.

Din slowly searched around your bedroom. It was like a library, shelves upon shelves filled with romance novels. You were clearly a hopeless romantic, and perhaps that could serve in Din's favour. And you'd already formed an attachment with his son. That's when a cord struck Din.

He could always just… make you fall in love with him. Make you want to marry him.

Din Djarin never had the strongest moral compass. He did what he had to do to support his Creed and this was simply just one of those occasions. The Armorer had said so herself, the way of his creed was the right way. It was the only way he has ever known. His gaze flicked back over to you, and his heart melted. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad making you his wife after all.

There was a slight problem. Din had never had a long term romantic relationship in his life. He didn't know how to flirt and he was afraid over how long it might take him to successfully seduce you. He had to get in your good books someway or another.

After a prolonged silence, you were the first to speak.

"I think we're in trouble already," you swallowed, looking up at Din. "I never expected a Child of the Watch to come rescue me… but you showing up on Mandalore dressed like a Mandalorian was a bad idea." Din blinked momentarily, but didn't say a word. His silence only urged you to continue your explanation. "No Mandalorian has been brave enough to return to Mandalore wearing full beskar and a helmet. I predict the Imps have already sent word to the Moff."

"You're the Manda'lor though," Din pointed out. "Surely you have some say in the matter?"

You practically cringed. You weren't really the Manda'lor— but that wasn't important right now. Sure, you'd tell him eventually that Moff Gideon had overthrown your position of power. You'd tell him once you regained control of Mandalore. You took Din's hands and sighed. "Swear that I can put my faith in you to protect me."

"I swear," Din promised, running his thumb over your knuckles. You swore that your heart skipped a beat at the menial yet intimate touch. "So princess. What's the plan?"

"We have to leave the palace. Go into hiding. I have no doubt Moff Gideon and his men are already on their way to investigate."

"Wait—," Din paused, his suspicion already rising. "I know Mandalore is under Imperial rule but who is this Moff and why is he so important?"

You scrunched up your nose, not prepared to provide him with the truth. As it turned out, you and Din were both ready to lie to each other. You expected him to trust you, and he expected you to trust him, but neither of you realised that you both had questionable intentions.

"He governs the planet. He's kind of the boss man," you said quietly. That wasn't exactly false. You were just… sugar coating the truth. "Where do you hail from, Din?"

"Uh- complicated question… I uh…" Din pondered. He didn't even remember the name of the planet where he was born. He was taken away by the Watch when he was just a four year old orphan. He went through his training all around the galaxy, never staying still for one moment, until eventually his tribe went into hiding on Nevarro. He sighed. "Nevarro." Assuming that was the easy answer.

You'd never heard of such a place. "Do you have friends on Nevarro?"

He wasn't sure if friends was the right word. He knew people, sure. Many of the citizens over there were in debt to Din. "I guess."

"People who can help us? We could… form an alliance," you smiled as you gathered your information. "To rebel against the Empire."

"You're sounding more like a politician for the New Republic than a Mandalorian warrior." Din scoffed, and you supposed he had a point. You didn't want Mandalore to overrule the galaxy. You were fine with the New Republican reign. From your own awareness, General Leia Organa of the New Republic was actually the daughter of your mother's old friend— Senator Padmé Amidala. But what were the chances that some random child of the Watch had any connection to the New Republic? Still, there was no harm in asking.

"Do you know any New Republic fighters?" you pondered, holding Grogu tight into your chest. You were cradling him in your arms as he had fallen asleep during your conversation, his gentle snores filling your bedroom.

It just so happened that Din did know a New Republic fighter and she just so happened to reside on Nevarro. Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan. Din nodded his head in affirmation and your grin only grew wider. "This might actually work." you confessed with a shaky exhale.

"No offence princess, but the New Republic already has too much on their plate to help you regain control of Mandalore, they're already still fighting the remnants of the Empire." Din huffed.

Din had a point— but what he didn't know was that the great Manda'lor was an Imperial ISB officer. If you could just get to Leia Organa and explain your situation, as the daughter of an old family friend… maybe then you'd gain the support of the New Republic. You were a slave of the Empire but you were desperate to break free of their hold.

"Take me to your friend… the New Republic fighter." you told the Mandalorian, beaming so brightly that your eyes twinkled with delight. Din wasn't one to catch feelings, but he swore his heart stopped every time he caught a glimpse of your lips curling into a smile.

"Now?" Din asked, shuffling around awkwardly.

"Yes," you confirmed. "I'm afraid we're already running on borrowed time."

—-—-—

Din was a good pilot and he knew how to sneak around when necessary, which meant, yourself, the Mandalorian, and his son, were able to leave Mandalore in one piece without the authority noticing. Din promised you he'd make the jump to hyperspace as soon as it was safe to do so, your anxiety already bubbling away as you considered the probability of Moff Gideon and his troopers already raiding your palace in search of you. No doubt that the moment they realised you were missing, they'd send out a whole search party for you.

Your nerves weren't lost on Din. In fact, he made his bed — something he never did — and encouraged you to lay in it. "May as well get some rest princess, we'll be in the air for a while." he grumbled, trying to resist the thought of you sleeping in the same place he slept every night. He wasn't prepared to give up his bed for anyone but you were the princess of Mandalore and potentially his future wife. And he'd known you for the best part of an hour. He still hadn't entirely wrapped his head around it all.

You were uncertain at first, but you decided he had a point. His bed was so much smaller than the one back home. Everytime you moved the slightest, it croaked and screeched. You could feel every indent and wire underneath the thin excuse of a mattress and you couldn't help but wonder how he could possibly sleep at night. Unless he slept in his full Beskar… it must've been so uncomfortable for him.

Din nursed Grogu while you caught a couple hours of sleep, but he couldn't stop thinking about you. Not once did he expect to be returning back to Nevarro so fast, but he decided it would be a good thing. He could report back to the Armorer whilst you and Cara spoke.

He was tired too. This whole day so far had been exhausting, but rather than scooching next to you in his bed, he opted to get cozy in the cockpit. Throwing a blanket over himself and Grogu, Din managed to close his eyes.

As you had imagined, your sleep on the Razor Crest wasn't very satisfying and you woke up every few minutes. Staring up at the ceiling, you couldn't help but think about the Mandalorian. He was serving his duty to protect you, believing that you are the rightful ruler of Mandalore. And for the first time, you felt guilty for being so dishonest to him. He'd shown you nothing but care and compassion from the moment he met you, even going as far to comfort you on the grand staircase. He wasn't offended when you expressed your disdain towards his creed— at least, he didn't show it. Din Djarin seemed like a good, genuine person. And you deserve someone good and genuine… Cursing yourself, you snapped yourself out of those thoughts. There was no time to initiate relationships, and you could not let yourself fall into the trap of caring about him. That would only screw up your plan even more. You just had to focus on regaining control of Mandalore.

But he was a masked warrior who had the caring nature of a prince and the body of a God. He was a father. You knew there was so much more to him than what meets the eye and so… maybe it wouldn't be too bad to find out more about the mysterious Mandalorian, in some way or another. Yes, gaining power of Mandalore was your first priority but would it really be so bad to let yourself get close to Din in the process?

You'd been isolated your whole life and to say that you craved love and romance was an understatement. You looked into the hull of the ship where it was dark and quiet, and just about made out the sleeping silhouette of Din who was laying in his pilot chair. Just the gleam of his shiny beskar and his broad shoulders.

Kriff— he was hot.

And the sexual tension between you both was undeniable.

You bit your lower lip and let your hand wander down your tunic, your fingers nervously gracing the waistband of your underwear. Touching yourself in his bed would be so wrong… and yet you couldn't resist it. Your eyes felt heavy as you watched him, his chest rising up and down as he slept peacefully. Your finger dipped into your panties and you bit down onto the thin blanket in order to suppress a moan as you began to rub yourself to the thought of him.

He'd touched you plenty of times...his big, strong, gloved fingers grabbing you and holding you… it was so easy to get lost in the thoughts. Your eyes fluttered shut as you continued to play with yourself, secretly hoping that the Mandalorian would find you making a mess in his bed and punish you in some way or another.

You wondered if he'd be rough and heavy handed… or if he'd be sweet and compassionate. Either way, you were completely riled up and on the verge of hitting your climax when a loud flurry of beeping came from the cockpit. You gasped, your eyes snapping open and you shuffled to sit upright in the bed.

"Grogu," Din grumbled tiredly, and for the first time, you heard his voice raw and unmodulated. He'd taken off his helmet. "Go back to sleep. Told you not to press buttons when I'm not watching. You'll get us in trouble."

And your heart done a loop-de-loop.

You had just met the Mandalorian and already he had you wrapped around his finger.

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[pedro-pascal-love]

Officer Brown Eyes

One Shots ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ Join My Taglist

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3k+

Summary: During the events on Morak, Reader sees Din’s face for the first time, and isn’t sure how to handle it.

Warnings: Language, angst, SO MUCH FLUFF

⟸ Raise Warriors ❖ Moving On ⟹

They had to get the child back. By any means necessary. Which meant having to pick up Migs fucking Mayfeld to help them out.

“Dank farrik, I do not like this idea,” you said dramatically. “I don’t like the fact that we have to team up with Mayfeld yet again, especially after what happened last time!”

“If we want to get the kid back, we don’t have a choice,” Din replied as you all waited for Cara to get back with Mayfeld. You’d traveled with him since before the Child entered the picture and had learned to pick up how Din was feeling based on the way he spoke and his body language.  Din Djarin was a man of few words but fewer facial expressions, so having to gauge how he felt through his modulated helmet was hard for most people, but not for you. You could tell that Din was worried. He was afraid that The Child was hurt or worse. You knew that Din would do anything in his power to get the Child back, even if it meant busting out an ex-Imperial sharpshooter who’d double-crossed you both the last time you ran into each other.

You watched from the shadows as Boba and Fennec went out to greet Mayfeld. You smirked as you saw Mayfled stop in his tracks and look at Boba, having to do a double-take.

“You know, for a second, I thought you were this other guy,” Mayfled stated in relief with a smile. You watched as Din took that opportunity to descend the ship's ramp to greet Mayfeld and saw the color drain from his face.

“Mayfeld,” Din greeted coolly.

“Hey, Mando. Long time,” Mayfled greeted nervously, not sure if Din would blast time where he stood or something else.

“What, you came here to kill me?” He joked.

“All you need to know is that I bent a lot of rules to bring you along,” Cara replied begrudgingly.

“Why am I so lucky?” Mayfeld retorted.

“Because you’re Imperial,” Cara glared.

“Hey, that was a long time ago, all right?” he defended.

“You still know your Imperial clearances and protocols, don’t you?” Din asked, cutting right to the chase. Mayfeld looked worried and watched as Cara and the others walked up the ramp before he finally sighed and glanced back at the prison planet he’d been assigned to. He wasn’t sure if he preferred to be going with them or if he should just stay, but he chose to leave with them anyways. As he boarded the ship, he saw you looking at him with a look that would kill anyone in an instant, and he gulped as he sat down.

“We need coordinates to Moff Gideon’s cruiser,” Din stated as he took his seat next to you.

“Moff Gideon?” Mayfeld scoffed. “Yeah, forget it. Just take me back to the scrapyard. I’m not doin’ that.”

“They have his kid,” Cara explained with annoyance. Mayfeld looked at Cara, then to you and Din, actually looking a little concerned.

“The little green guy?” he asked.

“Yeah, the ‘little green guy,” Cara replied, annoyed with Mayfeld’s attitude already.

“So…..I help you guys get him back, you guy let me go?” Mayfeld asked hopefully. Cara rolled her eyes.

“That’s not how this works,” she replied

“Well, then what’s in it for me?” Mayfeld retorted. You were ready to gouge his eyes out at that statement. You tensed and straightened your posture, looking Mayfeld dead in the eye.

“A better view,” Cara responded.

“You get to live,” you replied heatedly. “You either help, or you somehow end up blown to oblivion, and Cara writes it off as if you tried to escape custody.” Mayfeld gulped and took a moment to ponder his choices.

“All right, but here’s the thing. I can’t get those coordinates unless I have access to an internal Imperial terminal. I believe there’s one on Morak,” Mayfeld finally stated.

“Morak? There’s nothing on Morak,” Din replied, not trusting what Mayfeld had to say.

“It’s a secret Imperial mining hub, okay?” Mayfeld replied. “If you can get me in there, I can get you the coordinates.” You looked at Din skeptically but nodded.

“Fett, punch in the coordinates to Morak,” Din instructed Boba through the commlink.

“Copy that,” you heard Boba reply and felt the ship take off towards Morak.

“If you’re lying to us, Mayfeld, I just want you to know that you will suffer an excruciating and prolonged end by my hands,” you threatened as you pointed a knife at him before going to sharpen it. Mayfeld visibly gulped as you felt a hand on your knee.

“Whatever it takes to get the kid back,” Din said softly to you in an attempt to quell your fears. You nodded and went back to sharpening your blade.

Due to Boba’s initial scan, you all decided that a full frontal assault would be too risky, considering the refinery was crawling with Imperial troopers, so you decided to go in quietly. After some debate on how to get into the refinery undetected, you chose to have Mayfeld and one other disguise themselves as stormtroopers to get into the refinery. Din had insisted on going with Mayfeld while you stayed with Fennec and Cara.

“No, I’m coming with you both,” you insisted, leaving no room for argument. Din sighed.

“Fine, but you have to promise me that you’ll be careful,” he said, looking down at you through the visor. You nodded, feeling the worry in his tone but knowing he wouldn’t convey it any other way due to present company.

“I promise. I’ll make sure that things go according to plan,” you said with a shrug.

Once you, Din, and Mayfeld had successfully hijacked and disguised yourselves as stormtroopers, you began to make your way to the refinery. Things have been going smoothly so far until you came across a village on route to the refinery. The villagers watched as you slowly drove by, and the air was tense.

“Yeah, Empire, New Republic, it’s all the same to these people,” Mayfeld said as you gazed out the window at the haggard villagers. “Invaders on their land is all we are. I’m just sayin’ somewhere someone in this galaxy is ruling, an others are being ruled. I mean, look at your race. Do you think all those people that died in wars fought by Mandalorians actually had a choice? So how are they any different than the Empire?” Mayfeld questioned. You rolled your eyes and could feel Din doing the same thing.

“Watch it, Mayfeld,” you warmed.

“If you were born on Mandalore, you believe one thing, if you’re born on Alderaan, you believe something else,” Mayfeld continued. “But guess what? Neither of them exist anymore,” he said with a shrug. You growled, getting annoyed the more he spoke.

“Hey, I’m just a realist. I’m a survivor, just like you,” he defended.

“Let’s get one thing straight.” Din replied, “You and I are nothing alike.”

“I don’t know. Seems to me like your rules start to change when you get desperate,” Mayfeld said with a glance. “I mean, look at ya. You said you couldn’t take your helmet off, but now you got a stormtrooper one on, so what’s the rule? Is it that you can’t take off your Mando helmet, or can’t show your face? ‘Cause there’s a difference. Look, I’m just sayin’ we’re all the same. Everybody’s got their lines they don’t cross until things get messy. As far as I’m concerned, if you can make it through your day and still sleep at night, you’re doin’ better than most.”

At his words, you glanced over at Din, not being able to tell how he felt since you sat behind him but sensing the thoughts coursing through his mind. The Creed forbade him from removing his helmet in front of any living being, but lately, you’d witnessed differently from other Mandalorians. Boba Fett and Bo Katan were evidence of there being a different way that Mandalorians lived, and you’d hoped that maybe one day Din would take up their way of life instead of the stricter way that the Tribe lived, hiding in the shadows and never showing their face. You hoped that maybe one day Din would see it fit to remove his helmet unless going into battle, and you’d be able to gaze into the eyes of the man that you were hopelessly and secretly in love with. But that was a spice dream at this point. Mayfeld’s other words rang through your ears. You and Din had become desperate in more ways than one to get the Child back. At this point, you’d do anything, and everything to ensure the safe retrieval of the Child and knew that Din was very much on the same boat.

As you made your way to the refinery, things took an unexpected turn that neither of you foresaw. It seemed that on Morak pirates wanting to blow up the rhydonium, and you were getting very annoyed with having to do things the hard way just to get some information on Moff Gideon. Luckily, the three of you had made it safely to the refinery after some excitement and with a bit of assistance from the Empire.

“Dank farrik,” you muttered as you saw the stormtroopers line up and salute the transport. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

The three of you finally disembarked from the transport and were greeted warmly by other stormtroopers, thinking you were a colleague of theirs. Oh, were they wrong. Mayfeld guided you and Din to the officer’s mess hall where he suspected the terminal would be, and low and behold; it was there. You watched through the visor of your helmet as Mayfeld began to walk into the mess hall, abruptly stop, then turn back around and made his way back to you and Din.

“I can’t go in there,” Mayfeld stated

“Why not?” Din asked.

“That’s Valin Hess,” Mayfeld replied.

“Who?”

“That’s Valin Hess. I used to serve under him,” Mayfeld stated nervously.

“Will he recognize you?”

“I don’t know,” Mayfeld said. “I was just a field operative, but I’m not takin’ the chance. It’s over.” You held your arm out to stop Mayfeld from walking away.

“Let’s just do this quick, and we can get out of here,” Din said sternly, also blocking the way.

“I can’t do it, okay? We have to abort. I’m sorry.”

“No, I can’t,” Din said. “If we don’t get those coordinates, I’ll lose the kid forever. Your heart broke at his words. You know that Grogu meant a lot to Din; he meant a lot to you too, but you knew that Din would do anything to get him back.

“Give me the data stick,” Din said.

“It’s not gonna work,” Mayfeld replied. “In order to access the network, the terminal has to scan your face,” he explained.

Well fuck, you thought

“Give it to me,” you heard Din say, and before you could respond and go in yourself, you watched as Din walked into the mess hall himself with the stick. You grew anxious watching the officers watch him awkwardly salute and then make his way to the terminal. Your anxiety rose once you saw him get to the terminal and then turn to glance at the officers and you. Your heart nearly stopped as you watched Din remove his helmet as he faced the terminal and place the data stick into it. You watched with bated breath as Valin Hess approached Din at the terminal and faced him. You looked at Mayfeld, hoping he’d have some sort of solution but saw he was just as fearful as you were. You heard the officer ask Din for a TK number and knew it was over. The mission was blown.

“This is my Commanding Officer, TK-593, sir,” Mayfeld interjected as he walked up to Din and Valin Hess, you following close behind him, your helmet removed as well at this point. “I’m Imperial Combat Assault Transport Lieutenant TK-111, sir.”

“TK-660, sir,” you added as you stood next to the two of them, watching as Din awkwardly looked at you and Mayfeld and back at the officer, his body rigid.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up to him a little bit since his vessel lost pressure in Taanab,” Mayfeld smoothly said. Valin looked over at Din.

“What’s your name, Officer?” Valin loudly said. Din pretended not to hear and raised his eyebrows.

“We just call him Brown Eyes. Isn’t that right, Officer?” Mayfeld covered as Din looked at him and nodded with a slight smile.

“Sir, we should go fill out those TPS reports so we can go recharge the power coils,” you interjected. The three of you proceeded to walk away but were stopped when Valin said you weren’t dismissed.

DANK FARRIK, you thought. Valin proceeded to praise the three of you for being the only transport that successfully delivered the rhydonium that day and insisted on a drink.

You were on edge the entire time Valin and Mafeld were speaking. Mayfeld just had to bring up his history with the Empire and Operation Cinder, and you instantly knew that this was going to end badly. Very very badly. You saw Din glance at Mayfeld at one point and slightly shake his head as if warning Mayfeld not to start anything, but Mayfeld paid him no mind. Things ended up going astray yet again that day, and the three of you ended up in a firefight to get out. You were getting tired of this. You managed to kick open part of the window and climb up to the roof, where Boba swiftly rescued you, and he was able to swiftly release a seismic charge to stop the two tie fighters that were on your tail. You let out a breath as you finally were clear of any dangers and got up to take off the stormtrooper uniform, ready to get out of the blasted thing and never speak of what happened again today.

You walked over to the bag that held your clothes and Din’s armor when you felt a presence behind you. Closing your eyes and sighing, you turned around to look at him as he stood before you in the cursed stormtrooper uniform.

“Din, I….I’m so sorry that you had to go through that,” you started, as tears well in your eyes. Knowing just how much the Creed meant to him and knowing that you were part of the reason why he broke it tore you to pieces. You looked down at the ground as he approached you and placed his hand under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

“It…..It had to be done,” Din said softly. You looked at him bewildered. “Whatever it takes to get the kid back, remember?” You nodded.

“Yeah, but no living being can see your face. That’s part of who you are,” you pleaded, tears now fully streaming down your face. “I don’t want to be the reason that you’ll no longer be able to wear the helmet or armor.” Din shook his head, taking his hand away from your face.

“You could do nothing to control what happened, cyar’ika,” Din reassured you. You shook your head and shut your eyes.

“….Mando…Din….I just…I can’t unsee what I saw. You have to fix it. I’ll leave if you want, or if you have to do what must be done, then do be it,” you urged. Din shook his head.

“I already lost the kid; I can’t lose you too,” he stated as he took your hands in his. Your eyes widened at the revelation. You watched as Din brought your hands up to his helmet and placed them on the bottom, with his hands resting gently on your forearms.

“It’s ok. I’d been thinking about this for a while now, and I want this,” Din softly said, gazing down at you, his voice quivering slightly from nervousness.

“……Din, you…You don’t know what you’re asking,” you tried to reason as you tried to remove your hands from his helmet, but his hands held firmly onto your arms and kept them in place.

“I do, cyar’ika,” he said as he moved your hands up, lifting the helmet slightly. “I’d rather it be you to remove my helmet by your own terms than by anyone else.” You still couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You respected him too much; even seeing part of his neck and chin made you avert your gaze.

“I….I can’t….” You spoke softly.

“You can. I want you to see my face,” he said as he guided your hands to lift his helmet once more.

“You…..You’ll have to do it,” you pleaded. “I can’t do it.” Din chuckled and nodded. You watched as he guided your hands to lift the helmet more. First, you saw the rest of his chins. Then his lips. Followed by his nose and then his eyes, until finally, the helmet had been completely removed, and he stood before you. You averted your eyes again, but he swiftly stopped you and tilted your face until you were yet again looking into his eyes. His beautiful brown eyes. Eyes that seemed to stare into the depths of your soul and know everything that you were thinking. You chuckled, and Din looked at you puzzled.

“Mayfeld called you Officer Brown Eyes while we were at the refinery,” you stated. “I think it’s very fitting; I might just call you that from now on.” Din chuckled and shook his head.

“If you want, but only you’re allowed to call me that,” Din stated as he stepped closer to you until you were pressed up against his chest. “But on one condition.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” you questioned, feeling the heat radiating from him as your gaze shifted between his eyes and his lips. You licked your lips and gave him a small smile. “Name your terms, Mando.”

“Say you’ll be mine,” he replied as he licked his lips as well and brought his face closer to yours.

“I think that can be arranged,” you said softly before closing the gap, and your lips met.

As your lips met, you felt a fire ignite within you, and electricity pulse through your body. It rippled down your arms and legs, and you brought your hands up to rest on his neck and play with his brown curls, deepening the kiss. Din brought his hands to rest on your hips and pull you closer as he slipped his tongue between your lips, further deepening it. After a moment, you both pulled away and rested your foreheads together.

“I’m yours, Din Djarin, now let’s go get our child,” you lovingly said. All he did was nod and close the gap between you yet again with a smile.

.fin

⟸ Raise Warriors ❖ Moving On ⟹

[calebdumes]

it’s late and no one is on so clearly this is the best time to post

fandom: star wars rebels

relationship: kanan jarrus/hera syndulla

rating: n/r

word count: 1.6k

~

Kanan hadn’t been sleeping well lately and it wasn’t that hard to figure out why. These last few months had been hard on him, even if he pretended otherwise and when he was able to get some shut eye, his sleep was anything but restful. 

Hera hadn’t fared all that better. It was hard work trying to hide a rebel cell in plain sight. But she finally thought she had every one settled on Garel - or as much as they could be. Even if Senator Organa had deep pockets, their current set up at the spaceport was going to burn through his slush fund in record time. 

They needed to find a base. And fast. 

So Hera was busy scrolling through the list of potential planets that Captain Rex had been kind enough to provide for them, even though it was deep in the planet’s night cycle and the rest of her crew tucked away in their bunks sleeping soundly. She was sitting with her legs folded on the curved acceleration couch in the lounge, the lights set to their lowest level. Kanan had his head pillowed in her lap, his long legs stretched out along the couch, his face pressed into her stomach. It couldn’t have been the most comfortable sleeping position but Hera was just grateful that he was finally sleeping. 

A green finger slowly dragged across the screen of her datapad while her other hand swept through the silky strands of Kanan’s hair, the sounds of his soft snoring mixing with the slight hum of power from the Ghost’s generators. It was peaceful like this, reminding Hera of the early days, when it was just her and Kanan against the galaxy. She smiled at the memory. 

Her peace was interrupted as the door to the lounge slid open to reveal the  imposing shadow of Captain Rex standing in the doorway.

“Sorry.” Rex said quietly as he stepped into the lounge. “I didn’t think anyone would be up.”

“It’s alright.” Hera smiled at him, her hand going back to stroking Kanan’s hair. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Rex rubbed sheepishly at the back of his bald head. “You could say that.”

Hera hummed in acknowledgment before saying, “There’s some caf left in galley if you’d like some.”

“I’m good thanks.” His eyes cut to Kanan’s sleeping form. “You mind if I join you for a bit?”

“Not at all, in fact, I’m going over the list you gave us. Maybe you can help me narrow things down?”

“It would be an honor.” Rex smiled at her, taking a seat on one of the stools. Hera toggled a knob on the side of the holotable and projected her datapad so they could both look at it. For a while, they researched planet after planet, hoping to come across a suitable location for a base, Kanan sleeping peacefully in her lap the whole time. She wondered for a moment, if she should wake him up and send him to her cabin but she was afraid that if she did that, he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. He desperately needed the sleep and Hera wasn’t going to deny him the opportunity. Besides, she kind of liked how he was cuddled up to her, even if she was starting to lose feeling in her toes. 

Rex, as it turned out, was a wealth of information that had her questioning why Fulcrum didn’t utilize him sooner. She assumed it was mostly because he had served his time and wanted to live out the rest of  his life in peace. It was probably what the old clone deserved after everything he had gone through. Still, she was grateful that he had joined the fight once more. They needed someone with his experience and knowledge if they really wanted to take down the Empire for good.

Hera didn’t know how long they worked, the time passing with little care or notice. It was only when Kanan made a pitiful noise, a cross between a whimper and a groan, that caused them to pause their work. Fear shot through Hera at the sound, her lekku going tight and her breath catching in her throat. Her attention zeroed in on him, everything else falling by the wayside, completely forgotten. Hera’s hands flew to his face, stroking her thumbs over the tight lines of pain that had begun to form around his closed eyes. 

“Shhh love.” She said gently, bowing her head so their foreheads were touching. “It’s alright. You’re alright.” She had to work to keep her voice even, emotion making her throat tight. “It’s alright love. It’s just a dream.”

Kanan continued to tremble in her arms, terrible, horrible little whimpers escaping his lips, each one like a knife to her heart. He was in pain, awful pain, but there was nothing Hera could do to help but hold him through it. Eventually, his shaking slowed and the tension began to leach from his body until he was restfully sleeping once again. 

Hera sighed heavily and leaned back against the soft cushions of the couch. It took her longer than she would have liked to register that Rex was still there, sitting across from her at the table. His old face looked weary, his warm brown eyes misty and full of understanding. 

“He get those a lot?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Hera nodded. “Lately, more than usual.”

Rex looked down at his scarred fingers. “I’m sure my presence here hasn’t helped much.” he chuckled darkly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they've gotten worse because of me.” 

Hera frowned at him. “He just needs time Rex.”

“Oh I know.” he took a breath, rolling his shoulders. “It hasn’t been easy for me either...but for what it’s worth, I’m glad he survived. He seems like a good man.”

“The very best.” she ran a hand down the side of his face. There wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t thank the goddess that Kanan survived the Purge. That this wonderful, kind, brave human that stole her heart, lived and breathed when so many of his people had perished. She knew how the weight of his survival hung heavy on his shoulders but Hera couldn’t help but feel so immensely grateful that he was one of the few that were spared. 

“Do you know where he was?” Rex asked suddenly. “When it happened?”

Hera bit down on her bottom lip, thinking about how to answer. Kanan never did like to talk much about his past, he tended to keep most things close to his chest and only divulged his secrets in small, uncommon pockets of vulnerability. Hera didn’t feel right spilling his secrets to a man he might not ever trust. But at the same time, she felt that Rex deserved to know something.

“Kaller I think.” she said finally. 

Rex hummed, looking lost in thought before responding, “Kaller...I don’t remember what battalion was stationed on Kaller. Who was his master?”

Hera glanced down at Kanan, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. When she didn’t reply Rex sat back, creating space between them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just in my experience, you can tell a lot about a Jedi based on how they treat their men. I thought if I recognized the General that maybe...I understand that Kanan might not want me to know.”

“Her name was Depa Billaba.” Hera said softly, twirling a strand of Kanan’s hair around her finger. “That was his master.”

Rex rubbed her beard. “Ah, General Billaba. General Kenobi spoke highly of her, she was a good leader, cared deeply for her troops.”

“She gave her life to save him.” She said, not taking her eyes from Kanan’s sleeping face. She had lost her own mother at a young age but she couldn’t imagine having to watch her die with her own eyes, killed at the hands of people she once called friends. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. 

Hera glanced up at him and offered him a kind smile. “It wasn’t your fault Rex.”

“It doesn’t make it any less true.”

“I know.” she nodded. “And I think deep down Kanan knows that too.”

He just needed time, they both did. 

“Well,” Rex said after a moment, pushing himself gingerly to his feet. “I should probably try and get some sleep. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Thanks for your help Rex.” she said as he made his way to the door. 

He paused as the doors slid open, a warm smile on his weathered face. “Anytime Captain.” he gave her a jaunty two finger salute before disappearing down the hallway. Hera sat there, her finger tips resting on the underside of Kanan’s jaw, feeling his pulse beat out a steady rhythm. 

The past few days had been a challenge but they had been through worse and they had survived. This was no different. Kanan would come around eventually with Rex, or maybe he wouldn’t. But Hera had hope. 

She leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his brow. “Kanan?” she prodded. “Love, I need you to wake up.”

Kanna groaned in response, his face scrunching up with displeasure. Hera chuckled at the sight. “I know dear but don’t you think you’d be more comfortable in a bed?”

At that Kanan cracked open his eyes, the familiar teal hue clouded over with sleep. “Wh’ happen’d?”

“You fell asleep.” she responded with a kiss.

“Oh.” his eyes slipped shut.

Hera hoisted him up, ignoring his grumble of protest. “C’mon love. Let’s get you in a bed.”

Kanan let Hera maneuver him to his feet, leaning heavily on her as they trekked back to her cabin. He flopped bonelessly on to the cot and curled around her the second she slipped under the covers. From one breath to the next, he was asleep. 

Hera held him close, her cheek pressed against the top of his head. Her eyes slipped close, Kanan’s slow and even breathing lulling her to sleep.

[hearteyesdameron]

Follow - General Hux x OFC Reader

Words: 5.6k Ao3

Commission for the lovely @mrs-ghuleh​! Hope you like it!

Female OFC/reader. Working on the starship Finalizer, Ensign Eliora Nott finds herself the object of Hux’s affection. Soon, his cat and mouse game threatens to expose their affections, and steps are taken to diffuse the tension. 

NSFW Below Cut. Dom Hux, Sub reader. 

The galaxy of stars before you is breathtaking. Those around you had spent their entire lives, some life spans tripling your own, staring out at them under the rule of the Order, and the spell of the endless blackness before them had worn off; dulled even. You’re still optimistic. Enchanted by them and all they have to offer, as well as enthusiastic about your position within the Order. You have your whole life to raise through the ranks, and this isn’t a bad place to do it. Your entire family before you had served in the Galactic Empire back before the days of the Skywalkers, and you would follow in their footsteps as everyone with your name had.

The relaxing sound of patrol fighters just outside and mouse droids transporting data to storage have become your daily ambience, if Kylo Ren isn’t present to add haphazard lightsaber strikes to it. Thoughtfully, you turn back to your post at the comms on the bridge.

“Was it like this back on Devaron?”

The horned, red-skinned co-worker sitting to your right turns away from the control panel to look at you. “What? The people, or the workplace politics?”

“Both,” you smile. The Devaronian takes a glance around behind him, before turning back to his position of duty.

“The officers here are nothing like my people. The environment here on the Finalizer is particularly dramatic, compared to the starships I skipped from prior to joining the First Order.”

“Ren?”

“Ren.” You continue to smirk as the horned officer goes on. “I’ve been told that just the other day, he was dissatisfied to say the least with the performance of the head cook on this ship. Half of the kitchen was destroyed, and I imagine that was catching him on a good day. Palp wafers for breakfast lunch and dinner it is, I guess.”

“That’s nothing compared to what I heard,” you whisper back. “Just the other day, Ren called the General to tell him just what he thought about how he runs things. Do you know what he said?” Your colleague’s eyes widen as he senses something, and turns back to his work as your own eyes slide shut.

“What he said is none of your business,” a sharp voice snaps. “Rather disappointing that you would while away your time on this bridge discussing matters not privy to you—ensign.”

“The comms were quiet, General,” you attempt to explain, gaze downcast. Hux’s resulting sneer is nothing short of terrifying.

“Is that so?” he spits. “Then why is it Lieutenant Mitaka has reported an incoming transmission from our liaison on Dromund Kaas about an escaped rebel prisoner within their camp?”

You glance over to Mitaka. He’s always been up Hux’s ass, desperate to snitch on anyone for the approval of the higher ups. You sigh. You can’t really blame him, with the kind of punishments they dole out around here. “It appears I missed that. I’m sor—”

“Would you fail to send out a distress signal were it necessary in favour of discussing the state of my uniform with your fellow officer, perhaps? Neglect your duties to gossip about the way I give orders, or perhaps the way I speak?”

“Certainly not,” you reply quietly. He scoffs.

“You’re lucky my forgiveness isn’t lacking when it comes to you.” You exhale in relief, but feel yourself tense again when the redheaded General beckons. “To my office.”

Your heartbeat picks up as you squirm in your seat. “Why?”

He glares down at you. “More backtalk?” By now, the entire bridge has gone silent, trying and failing to pretend not to listen to the standoff. Your cheeks burn under the scrutiny, especially under the intensity of Hux’s gaze.

“No, General.”

“Good. Follow, before I have the stormtroopers escort you.” You follow Hux with your head bowed, down the hallways. He walks with the purpose of a spiteful leader, his boots clapping loudly against the pristine floor, and the only sound he makes is a hiss when he kicks a small black droid out of his path. He’s intimidating, always has been, but it doesn’t stop that small twinge inside of you.

By the time you sit down at his desk opposite him, the flush in your cheeks is not from your public embarrassment on the job anymore... instead, it’s from being in Hux’s quarters alone with him.

“Ensign Nott.” Hux takes his time sliding his gloves off, lifting his chin and staring down his nose at you. Unfortunately you’re unable to make the appropriate eye contact when listening to your superior—you’re preoccupied by the exposed skin of his hands, distracted wondering why he removed the gloves in the first place. “Eliora.” You startle, looking up at him finally. He narrows those icy blue eyes. “When one is dismissed from the First Order, they are not given the luxury of a formal chat such as this one.”

“Please, General—”

“—They either find themselves simply and suddenly out of work, on a pod to the nearest sith-controlled planet, or dead.”

You shift nervously. “Are you letting me go?”

“Are you unhappy with your work?”

“No. No, of course not.”

“Good. Because the First Order is not in the business of caring.” He sits back in his chair, his face softening only by a fraction. “If I am not mistaken, you graduated top of your class in the academy.”

“Yes, sir.”

His eyes narrow even further at the title, and he goes on. “Despite this, there are many behind you fresh out of the academy who would readily snatch up your position given the chance. Is this what you want?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I’ve made it clear how devoted I am to our cause.” Hux nods, settling forward once more in his seat.

“Very good. I am inclined to give you another chance.” He watches you sit before him, nervous and squirming. A small, mean smile begins to grow on his lips. He’s instilled the fear of the maker into you, and he appears to get off on it. “If you continue to shirk your duties and speak so rudely of me, the Supreme Leader will mistake me for a fool if I don’t terminate you. To ensure this doesn’t happen, you will shadow me tomorrow.” He flicks his wrist. “I will teach you what it means to be an Imperial officer, and how important duty is.” He sneers. “We’ll just pretend, you and I, that I have the time to do such a thing.”

You swallow, your throat dry. “I’ll be following you around tomorrow?”

“Is there a problem, Miss Nott?” He sees the way your cheeks flush pink, his smirk growing even wider. “Did you have some other form of redemption in mind?”

“That’ll be fine,” you nod. “Just fine.”

“Good. The start of tomorrow begins in this office. If you are late, you will be on the next pod to Coruscant. I understand they are in perpetual need of cantina workers there.” A flash of anger shoots through you at the implication.

“I’m not getting on any pod, or working for any rebel scum in a bar. I’ll see you tomorrow, General.” Hux flicks his wrist once more.

“Dismissed, then.” He watches you go, taking off his hat and pattering his fingers against it. Toying with you has been fruitful since he began, but you’re starting to strike back. Is it worth pursuing? He removes your file chip from beneath his desk, inserting it into the small black droid in his office and watching your details project.

Yes, he decides, Eliora is worth the pursuit.

--

When you get to Hux’s office early the next morning, he’s already inside, dressed and ready for duty.

“When you are on time, you’re late. When you’re early, you’re on time. Thankfully, all our pods are under maintenance today. Follow.” You walk quickly after him as he leads you down the hall. “We begin with patrol. Ensure that everyone is performing their best even at the start of their day, before handing that task off to those who have been hired to make my life easier.” He sniffs. “Not that they do.” He sharply directs his gaze to his left. “Lieutenant Kuna!”

“Yes, General?” The woman turns immediately from her station. Although she is much taller than Hux, you notice that he still manages to talk down to her.

“You are needed in the hangar.”

“Yes, General.” She keeps her voice monotone and her eyes straight forward as she abandons her post immediately and walks the other way.

“Notice her?” He clucks his tongue. “She doesn’t ask questions.” His eyes spend too long lingering on you. Are you mistaking his usual intensity for a different sort of interest? You can’t stop the words as they come out, taking the chance to find out.

“Was my questioning so offensive yesterday when I asked why you were interrogating me?”

“Silly girl. If you want diplomacy, join the rebellion.” He takes a step closer. “Here, we put an end to those who threaten disorder.”

“With all due respect, I know what we do.”

“Then why do you stick out like a sore thumb under my command?” For the first time today, Hux looks genuinely frustrated.

“Maybe it’s because you notice me more than you do others.”

His jaw clenches, and you know you’ve hit a sore spot. He simply leans in until you can feel his breath on your face. It’s strangely cool. “Be that as it may... you are an ensign. Here, you obey.” You fully intend to respond with another standard yes sir, but you’re distracted by the General’s proximity. You’ve never been this close to him before, outside of your fantasies.

“All I ever want to do is obey you, sir.” Hux can tell your tone is pointed, and he’s surprised—not unpleasantly.

“You can start today,” he murmurs, “Right here.”

“Here?” You tease him slightly. “Right here, on this floor?”

This time, it’s Hux’s turn to be rendered speechless. He only drops his gaze down to your lips, and your chin inclines ever so slightly in preparation.

“Have you found the droid?”

Kylo Ren’s unmistakably warped voice comes through his helmet, and draws Hux back to the present. He quickly stands up straight to face the grandson of Darth Vader. “I give you the news when I receive it myself, Ren.”

“You give me the news when I ask for it,” Ren replies, his voice sharp as he approaches Hux. You can’t tell if he’s looked your way or even noticed you from beneath that brooding black mask, but you can see Hux’s expression of utter hatred and distaste. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

“How could one, when you have such a distinctly foul presence?” Hux shoots back. You get the impression he’s toeing the line to bolster himself in front of you, and you’re right. Ren does as you’d feared he would—he brings three fingers up in a force chokehold, and Hux’s arms immediately fly up to his neck, fingers clutching at an invisible tether.

“Don’t test me.” He chokes Hux harder, and leans in. “Double the efforts on the droid. If lives are lost, replace them. I want it found.”

“Done,” Hux wheezes out, and Ren drops him, breezing past without a single glance to you. Hux catches his breath, climbing up from his knees and righting himself.

“Interesting,” you dare to break the tense silence. “I forgot you had a boss too, General.”

“Don’t you dare insult me,” he snarls. “My boss is the Supreme Leader.” He pulls down his uniform, brushing it off. “Not that overgrown, force-sensitive brat.”

“It doesn’t look like it.” Before you can gasp, you feel yourself slammed back against the wall of the hallway. It’s deserted—no one to witness but the two of you, and obviously, Hux enjoys it that way.

“Don’t forget your place,” he growls. His hands crawl up from where they’re bracing him around you on the wall, to grip your shoulders and hold you firm. “What you have just witnessed may have been demeaning, but I will not accept your insolence or disrespect. I am the cat. You are the mouse. Am I understood?” You exhale.

“Yes, sir.” He lets you go, straightens his hat out, and sticks his chin up.

“Very well. Follow.”

You catch a smirk growing on his face as he turns to walk ahead of you, and your brain begins firing off presumptions a mile a minute. He likes to exercise his power, that much is certain and understandable. But with you, it’s as if he sees it as a game.

A game of cat and mouse.

You almost laugh at the hilarity of it, then remember that you’d gone and caught feelings for your boss and he’s toying with you over it. Now, you could groan from what seems like the worst punishment in the galaxy. When General Hux dismisses you from shadowing him today, you know he won’t be finished with you.

--

The next few days, things had warmed up between the two of you. Threatening eyes had softened, and harsh tones had become as playful as they could in a professional setting. However it had happened, the ice encasing Hux’s heart had begun to melt, but that didn’t mean he had gone soft. Far from it.

Back at your post the next week assigned to work on the case of the missing BB unit, you mistake approaching footsteps for a patrolling bridge officer, failing to turn around and acknowledge whoever they are.

“Eliora.”

You look up to see Hux standing above you, lips downturned in his perpetual scowl. Secretly, you hope you haven’t offended him in some way, but that’s ridiculous. You hadn’t even seen, let alone spoken to the man standing before you.

“General Hux.” You raise an eyebrow, and Hux blinks down at you. He studies your face for a moment, pleased by the submission in your eyes and the growing flush in your cheeks from his presence. He folds a cocky arm behind his back, chest broadening.

“Anything to report on the droid?”

“Transmissions from Jakku have been sparse and very limited when they do come through, but there have been sightings of one that matches the description.” Hux’s eyebrows raise.

“Excellent. Good work.” Your coworker glances over, and Hux notices the attention on the both of you. He scowls again, and takes a step between you. “What of his location?”

“He’s been spotted in the Eastern dessert. With a girl.”

“A girl?” Hux mutters. “Hm. I’ll get Mitaka on it. He can pinpoint where this wretched outcast is, and where she’s harbouring the last piece of the map.” He nods. “Ren will be pleased.”

“Are you pleased?”

A hand rubs down your back. “Very much so.” Warmth flowers throughout your body, and the hand begins to travel down and rub circles. He goes on, tone morphing not back to his usual strictness as you’d imagine, but into amusement. “Did I tell you could refer to me by my name?”

“I put General before it,” you retort. He sniffs, nods.

He seems reluctant to let you go and resume his duties as General on the Finalizer, but when officers begin to take notice of his lingering presence, he does so, leaving you with a sensual trail of his fingertip up your spine to the back of your neck. Maybe the cat has become the mouse, you think, chewing on your bottom lip as the bundle of nerves in your stomach begins to spark flame elsewhere.

--

It had been a long day of enduring abuse from Ren, summoning you and your coworkers in to have a fit about the droid not being found yet. It had only been a few days since the assignment had been given, and Mitaka had already been forced choked over it after one minor loss. You don't particularly like Mitaka, but his life must have flashed before his eyes during that encounter with that moody sociopath. You wonder in abject terror if the Sith had come up with mind-reading devices yet. Certainly those force-sensitives could do it whenever they liked...

Hush, back on track. Nobody wants to read your mind.

The knight wanted the crew of the Finalizer to do the impossible. You suppose the Order is in the business of getting the impossible done, but it still takes hard work and at least a little time.

Hands behind your back and posture impeccable, you walk down the sleek black passage toward the bridge. As you're heading back to your station, you notice none other than General Hux walking by you.

"General," you say, and he turns swiftly.

"Eliora. I heard what Ren did." He shifts uncomfortably for a moment. "He... shouldn't have done that."

"That's the kindest thing you've said to me in a while," you smile.

"Mm. I won’t hesitate to speak to him if he goes too far," Hux reminds you. “I have the authority, no matter how he loves to choke me for it.”

"I appreciate it."

"What he did in there was the equivalent of a child taking a tantrum. Not that it's any different than dealing with him in any other capacity." The two of you start to walk together.

"I'm used to getting yelled at," you shrug. "I'm still fresh out of the Academy."

"Ah, yes. The Academy," Hux nods. The barest glimpse of a smile crosses his lips. "It was long ago for me, but I remember the torture."

"Is that what whipped you into shape so strictly?" you asked.

"No. That was of my own doing." You both come to a stop in front of Hux's office. Tentatively, you reach forward to put a hand on the General's hip. Reflexively, he jerks at the touch, glancing everywhere and ready to reprimand you.

"What are you doing?"

"Just a little something to keep us through the day." He's still tense, as you're still his subordinate. You back away in defeat and embarrassment, but he inhales sharply at the loss of your touch. “I’m—” Giving in when he sees there's no one around, Hux takes you by the arm and holds you against his door.

"You think you can tease your superior like this?" he whispers in your ear, fingers coming up to stroke a strand of your hair that had come loose from your standard uniform bun away from your neck. He tsks. "Eliora. You know how I value respect above all things."

"Then I respectfully offer myself to you," you whisper, almost begging, and he can't resist any longer. He closes his hands over your breasts and seals your lips in a kiss. You reach your hand forward to cup Hux between his legs, and he draws in a sharp breath as he humps forward at the touch. He begins to kiss you like a starving man, as if it had been all he could do to stop himself from touching you earlier. You're just as lost in the sensations, forgetting where you are and why you can't tease him into fucking you right there in the hall against his door.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, the two of you break away from each other, and you wipe your lips as patrollers come around the corner. A small droid toots around behind them, and it backs up for a moment. Hux sneers down at it, and it beelines past the two of you. He’s only taking his anger out on it; the two of you always seem to get interrupted before anything can be done about this infernal tension.

You nod to Hux with a shrug, and he watches you go as he lets himself into his office. The sheer power he has over you is intoxicating, but for the first time, he doesn't feel the inkling to abuse it. He touches his lips as he sits down, sliding his tongue to taste you again. You do the same as you take your seat at comms and stare off through the front of the star destroyer into space. 

--

You’re awakened by a loud banging on your door. Groggily, you open one eye to take a look at the blinking time on your watch by the bed. It’s nearly midnight.

The bang sounds again. It’s systemic, as if a droid is doing it. You know it’s not droid, however. Rising from bed, you open the door to find what you had expected—two Stormtroopers.

“Ensign Nott. General Hux requests your presence.” You rub your head.

“He has duties for me at midnight? There are alternate comms workers for that, when I’m off.”

“Come with us.”

“I have to get my uniform on—”

“He said it was urgent. No need to change.” Your eyebrows raise. Sighing to yourself and tugging on a shawl, you follow them until you reach Hux’s office. They leave you at the door, and it slides open by Hux’s control from inside.

“Enter.”

You expect him to be pacing—facing the window with his hands clasped behind his back. You expect him, despite the late hour, to be impeccably dressed as usual and at his sharpest, determined never to be seen in any state of vulnerability. Instead, you find him behind his desk, one hand braced. His ginger hair is hanging in his face as if he’s attempted to sweep it back to no avail. His lips are parted and his pale skin is slightly flushed just beneath his eyes.

“Sir, are you alright?” you ask, stepping forward. He looks up at the stormtroopers patrolling the door.

“Leave us.”

They do as he says, and you turn back to him, confusion and concern evident in your expression. The first thoughts that flood your mind are thoughts of an attack, some kind of issue or sickness even he might have come down with. Then you start to wonder why he would call you to discuss any of that. No, he isn’t sick. He looks particularly affected. Physically compromised, even, as if he had been caught in a compromising position. Standing up straighter, you present yourself properly in front of his desk.

“Thinking of me?”

“Watch yourself,” Hux snaps, panting as he sits himself up higher to appear presentable. “You know better than anyone who you’re speaking to.”

“That’s how I know what you were doing. General.”

He narrows his eyes at you, standing from the desk. He’s in a black bathrobe, one he was obviously sleeping in or got into to relax before calling you here. “And what if I told you what I was doing? How urgently I touched my cock with your name on my lips?” He turns away from you with a harsh sigh. “Our little game is becoming too heated, Eliora. Something must be done about that.” Your stomach drops. Of course you should have expected this little tryst to come to an end sometime; it’s inappropriate and dangerous anyway, and you suppose it’s for the best that it end.

“I understand.”

“Mm. Good.” He walks circles around you, but when you try to turn to face him behind you, you feel his grip on the back of your neck. You don’t feel the usual icy fingers—instead, his hand is hot tonight, clammy. “Then bend over the desk.”

“What?”

“Need I remind you again that I won’t tolerate the questioning of my authority?” he asks slowly, annunciating his command. “Over the desk.”

You obey him, bending over. The shiver that runs through you is prolonged by his hand cupping your ass through your nightie. You’re suddenly hyperaware of your state of dress, or undress as it may seem. You’re only in your small night gown and panties. “I apologize. I didn’t have time to get into my uniform when you called for me, General.”

“On this occasion, Miss Nott,” Hux smirks, smoothing your nightie up your back to expose your underwear, “You are forgiven.” His breathing becomes ragged as his other hand comes up, rolling the meat of your ass around and squeezing. “Do you know how it tortures me so to see you every day, and restrain myself?”

“I know,” you breathe, arching your back and pressing your breasts further into his desk. “I can tell by your touches.”

“Curious that an ensign could steal my affections so quickly,” he mutters, giving your ass a sharp slap. “Like a spell. I, normally, am unbreakable.”

“Except when it comes to Kylo Ren.”

“What?” he snaps. He smoothes his hand up your back again and you moan, until he grips the back of your neck once more and pulls you up to snarl in your ear: “You do not mention him here. Him, or Snoke. Here, I am your Supreme Leader.”

You nod, grinding back against him. “You seem tense. Take it out on me?”  

“An inspired idea,” he nods, “But you don’t deserve it just yet.” He helps her stand up, and directs her into the other room, onto his black satin sheets. He stands over you. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble. I can’t get you out of my mind, and my performance has suffered for it.”

“Your performance on the job, or in bed?” Hux scowls.

“You know as well as I, I haven’t fucked anyone. How can I when you haunt my mind?”

“I only thought you wanted to play.”

“We’ve played.”

“You won.”

“Not yet.”

“And your work has suffered.” You pout. “How can I make it up to you?” you coo. His lips curl up again.

“On your knees.” You stalk forward on your hands and knees and meet him at the end of the bed, where he stands. You get to work untying his black robe, but do it slowly to entice him. Hux looks down at you, lips parting slightly and tongue darting out at the prospect of what you’re about to do. Flippantly, he huffs. “Take care of it.” You hum.

“Yes sir.” First, you give a small lick up his stomach, where his ginger happy trail leads up to his belly button. You keep moving up, kissing and sucking gently, sensually around his chest, until you reach his stark pink nipple and graze your teeth along it. Hux’s cock twitches into visibility through the part in the robe, and as your mouth waters, you decide to finally do as you’re told.

When you first take him into your mouth, his hand can’t help but bury into your hair. It’s not tucked into a bun like it usually is beneath your uniform cap, and he appreciates how he can finally run his fingers through it as he’d dreamed of doing each night. Every small tug of passion he gives only makes you take him deeper.

“Tell me how much you like it,” he sighs, watching your every move. You pop off with a moan, eyebrows knit. “Tell me how you’ve had no other like me.”

“It’s so good. You taste so good, General. I’ve never tasted a cock so nice... so big.” Hux’s breath hitches, and he watches you on your knees for him as he sucks in his cheekbones.

“I never imagined what talents you possessed in the bedroom,” he notes. “Especially with that silver tongue. I’ve learned however, you have a talent for obedience. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then tell me. Hold nothing back. I want to hear of your fantasies of me. What did you think of when you would watch me, your superior, walk by your station? When I would reprimand you?” For the first time in several minutes, the blush returns to your cheeks. Realizing he expects an answer, you search for words. “I expect you to speak when you are spoken to,” he growls, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. The fear in your eyes makes him smirk, chin jutting out in that smug manner he always seems to possess.  

“What if my mouth’s full?” you grin, kitten licking his head. Something flashes through his eyes, but you start to jerk him off before he has a chance to reprimand you again. With his head rolling back, you go on. “I thought of deliberately mixing the signals just so you would come over and take me to your office to spank me.”

“You would jeopardize the First Order’s mission just to ride my cock like a little slut, wouldn’t you?” he mutters. You look up at him, tongue out as you nod. The General buries his fingers once more into the back of your hair, guiding you back onto his cock. “Then let us correct this insatiable desire, before you get into any more trouble.” He guides you on and off a few times, and when he groans, he pulls you off and lays you down. Flipping you over onto your stomach, he humps against your ass a few times. You bite into the sheets as you feel his prominent erection prod against you, and wiggle back. “How badly do you want me?”

“I would have fucked you that day you kissed me against the wall,” you murmur into the sheets, “I would’ve let you take me right there, I wanted you so bad. I’ve held off on touching myself while thinking of you, because I wanted the real thing. I can’t wait any longer.” Hux hisses as he takes himself out of his pants, and tugs your panties down with his free hand. He slaps the head of his cock against you, getting himself slick, before he finally breaches you, bracing himself on his forearms around you and burying himself inside. You gasp, arching back, and he takes one of your hands, slamming it down in his fist and pinning it to the mattress as his other one slides between the bed and your stomach, reaching down to rub at your clit. The first stroke of his fingers makes you jolt, gasping even louder, and he nips at your ear.

“Get nice and loud. I want to know just what I’m doing to you. I want all of them to know who you belong to. The General’s little whore.” Your cries grow, the rhythm of Hux’s thrusting with each circle of his finger around you drawing out pleasure from the pit of your stomach.

“Please,” you whimper, “Sir, harder!”

“You want me to pound you until you scream, do you?” he growls. “I’ll give you exactly what you need. Move yourself back on me.” With fervour, you grind back with every pound of his cock, and he starts to grunt. His teeth sink into the back of your neck, and he presses soft kisses to the top of your back as he slows his movements inside of you to deep, gentle pumps, keeping himself at bay. Each throb you feel inside of you makes your pussy clench, and you grind back again. Hux turns you over and makes eye contact with you, lifting one of your leg up to wrap around his back. This leads to you sitting up and in his lap as the two of you push and pull and kiss hard toward your orgasm. Your lips meet his first, and he bites your bottom lip as your teeth clash and lips overlap one another’s.

“Hux,” you sigh into his mouth. He swallows your gasp, holding you up by your back. He buries his face in the nape of your neck, and your moans grow in pitch until they reach a crescendo. “Fuck—I’m coming!”

“Eli—” He shudders, sinking his face down your chest into your breasts. You feel him finish inside of you as he pounds twice, growling out his release. When you fall backward away from him, his lips are parted, forehead damp. His pale chest is heaving, covered in dark love marks you don’t remember leaving there.

The large floor to ceiling window opposite the bed gives the two of you an unobstructed view into the vast corners of space.

"I used to feel insignificant within all that before I joined the Order."

Hux hums. "I did as well. Very much so." He takes a pause to think. "At first, it was freeing to join. I had found my place in the universe-- I had found my calling. What is life without order? Then, as I raised in the ranks and took on more responsibility, I began to feel as though I was only a mouthpiece. I still feel that way, subordinate to Ren when I truly only take orders from Supreme Leader Snoke."

"I think you're a competent leader. A great one at that. You get things done like no other, and you're feared."

"Yes. I find though, I've lost some of me in who I’ve become." He runs a hand through his hair, and shakes his head. "But I have found my purpose here. At first with you, I was afraid of the disorder I would experience when another's feelings were involved. I enjoyed toying with you, of course, but then I began to worry I was getting too attached."

"What changed your mind?"

"I haven't an idea. I just made a decision. Perhaps with you in my life, I can find balance."

"The balance that we're working to restore to the universe."

"The balance of a just galaxy," he nods. "And order." Hugging you closer to him on the bed, he buries his lips into your hair.

"What's your name?" He pauses.

"What?"

You stop your hand where it's running up and down his chest. "What's your first name?" He exhales.

"Armitage."

"Armitage Hux." He smiles down at you.

"That's General to you."

"Is it?" you challenge. He sniffs.

"Perhaps not in here."

"I'd say especially in here," you whisper back, and he places a kiss to your forehead.

"Perhaps you call me by my first name, as I do you Eliora. My life, I think, could use a little disorder." 

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

ohh i saw your answer about the sequels of star wars. id love to read you tear through the whole trilogy

Well, I’ve avoided this ask long enough. Part of the reason is this is really a huge topic, far too much for one ask, so I’m going to have to do this at a very high level.

In short, the Star Wars Sequel Trilogy is what one gets when you slap together the goal of selling merchandise and making tons of money, being as risk averse as humanly possible, adding a handful of warring directors with incredibly different visions, and having virtually no imagination when it comes to the imagining and writing of characters.

And we get this beautiful, awful, franchise that for reasons beyond me people seem to actually like (though interestingly, no one seems to like all of it, they may actually like one or two of the films, but no one says all three are actually in any realm of good).

With that, let’s begin.

The Force Awakens

For me this is easily the most tolerable of the sequel trilogy: it’s not great, it’s not terrible. It’s thoroughly watchable, you can be taken along for the movie’s journey and not raise your eyebrows too much at the action and leave the theater feeling this maybe wasn’t a complete waste of your time.

There’s a good reason for that. That reason is called the most blatant form of plagiarism I have ever seen in cinema in my life.

“The Force Awakens” is just “A New Hope” wearing a mustache. Only, it’s one of those cheap mustaches you get from a party store that, if you stare at it too long, just looks like the most false and awful thing you’ve ever seen. The mustache actively makes it worse. “The Force Awakens” is “A New Hope”, but worse.

Seriously, every major character, every major plot point, every major scene I can go directly back to “A New Hope”.

Our story begins when the Resistance, at great cost to our valiant heroes including torture at the hands of the Emperor’s second in command, sends a file out into the wilderness to be received by his people. This file contains plans for the Death Star.

The film then focuses on Luke, er Rey, getting involved in the Resistance, boarding the Death Star, and successfully destroying at the same time even at the lost of a beloved mentor that she just met (trading in Obi-Wan for Han Solo). 

Our evil empire is run by an evil emperor who is so evil he sits in a chair, is served by very Moth Tarkin-esque human storm troopers, and has a second in command who revels in the Darth Vader get up (for no other reason that it makes him feel cool but we’ll get into this).

It’s “A New Hope”. Rey is Luke, Han Solo is Obi-Wan, Poe is a kind of Han Solo, Kylo Ren is Vader, Snoke is Palpatine, Hux is Tarkin, BB-8 is R2-D2, etc.

“But that’s not terrible,” you say, “I liked A New Hope?”

First, it is terrible, it gives a very bad sign of where the sequel trilogy is headed and is just lazy writing. It means that those who produced this franchise were so terrified of taking risks, of possibly ending up mocked as the prequels were, that they will deliver exactly what the original trilogy was. And what’s that? Uh, evil empires, scrappy desert kids, AND MORE DEATH STARS!

That brings us to point number two, the world of Star Wars after the events of the original trilogy shouldn’t support such things. And, if it does, my god what a bleak existence this place has turned into.

The First Order being able to rise easily from the Empire’s remains means that Luke accomplished nothing. Anakin sacrificed himself and had his moment of redemption for nothing. There was no happy ending to the Original Trilogy, our heroes failed miserably, and there is no indication that our new band of heroes can possibly succeed in their place. (More on this as the movies progress).

We now are in a galaxy where this new Republic is so pathetic that Leia doesn’t even give it the time of day and builds her own private army to battle the Empire. The First Order is able to not only rebuild a massive army by raiding villages on many different worlds and stealing children and do so successfully for at least ten years but is able to build a Death Star bigger than any we’ve ever seen before. 

And the movie tries to convince us these are completely new problems, that Luke Skywalker is a hero (remember this is TFA, not TLJ yet), and that somehow these things just sprung up out of nowhere. BUT YEAH, RESISTANCE, WOO!

As for Rey, she’s like... a worse version of Luke. Her only motivation through the entire series is her trauma at being abandoned by her parents. That’s it, there’s nothing else to her, nothing else she ever wants or feels conflicted by. She struggles with the dark side because... the dark side? Genetics? Unclear? She’s absurdly, ridiculously, powerful in a way that’s acknowledged but never that acknowledged (we’ll get into this) and the movies just fail to sell me on her in any way.

Honestly, an easy fix for me would have just been making Rey a much younger character. I could believe a fourteen-year-old having stayed in the desert, scrounging for scraps, believing her parents are coming back every day now. As a twenty-something year old... It starts getting hard to believe she never left. (Also, this gets the benefit of getting rid of Reylo, which is always a plus for me).

As for Kylo Ren, I legitimately walked out of TFA thinking he was supposed to be comic relief. He’s what happens when someone desperately wants a likable, redeemable, villain and we get... Well, as a reminder his opening scene is one of genocide: he pillages and destroys a town with no regret and brutally tortures a man for information. We’re told he’s like this “because evil evil Snoke” and that may well be but throughout the film (and the series) it becomes clear that Kylo Ren’s main motivation is he deseprately wants to be cool. He wants to be a badass like Vader, he dresses in Vader cosplay (either ignoring or not knowing that Vader only dressed like that because his body was completely destroyed), he has these huge temper tantrums and nobody respects him because he’s a toddler in a Vader suit. 

He murders his own father, his parents who (at least in the films themselves) show every willingness to take him back and forgive him what he’s done, so that he can fully embrace his own “evilness”. In other words, he commits patricide to feel cool about himself, then it doesn’t work. 

And the movie series really banks on me feeling conflicted about Kylo Ren or at least wanting him to be redeemed. Granted, the wider internet seems to love him, I just can’t.

Oh, before I forget, the other thing I love about Kylo Ren is that the movies insist he’s a) strong in the Force b) is equal to Rey. Rey consistently beats the shit out of him with 0 training. Kylo Ren has been training in the Force for years. Guys, they are not a Dyad, Rey is far far far stronger than he is and for whatever reason the films never want to admit it. Because I guess we like things coming in pairs now.

But yes, “The Force Awakens”, at a distance not great nor terrible, but a rip off of a movie we’ve already seen that left me going “Welp, the next one’s probably The Empire Strikes Back then I guess we’re getting Ewoks”. I was sort of right on that and sort of wrong.

The Last Jedi

So, JJ Abrams clearly had a vision of where he wanted this sequel trilogy to go. He set up these big questions such as what’s up with Finn, who are Rey’s parents and why was she left on this nowhere planet, will Kylo Ren be redeemed and how, who is Snoke, etc.

Now, I’m not saying these aren’t stupid questions. To be frank, they kind of are. Finn being Force Sensitive was the most inconsequential thing I’ve ever heard of, Rey’s parents should not have been used to drive the plot the way it was, as spoken above I’m clearly team gut Kylo Ren, and that Snoke was actually just Palpatine being the world’s largest cockroach is a beautiful but hilarious answer.

That said, what Johnson did was he decided, “You know what, I’m going to take every trope of Star Wars and completely flip it on its head and absolutely doom the sequel to this movie.”

And by god, he did.

We get a weirdly pointless movie in which Poe, SINGLEHANDEDLY, completely obliterates the Resistance. He first obliterates their bombers by failing to follow command, then goes and bitches about how he’s not put in command when he clearly shows no ability to understand how a military works, actively subverts orders which in turn obliterates the entire Resistance fleet until the only survivors can fit on the Millenium Falcon. They have no ships, no weapons, barely any people, and are ultimately doomed doomed doomed.

We have Finn’s weird subplot with a suddenly introduced character Rose in which the pair aid in Poe’s blowing up the resistance (they send sensitive information using the communication equipment of a guy they do not know, who fully admits to being shady and out for his own skin, and are flabergasted when he betrays them). 

Rose herself is this weirdly sweet person who seems forced into the plot to a) provide a love triangle for Finn and Rey b) provide this forced sunny outlook that I didn’t really need in the film.

We get Rey never really being trained, going into the Cave of Wonders for a few seconds, falling in love with Kylo Ren over weird Force Skype calls (where I did not need to see him shirtless, thank you film) and being horrifically betrayed when Kylo Ren turns out not to be a great guy. Never saw that coming, Rey. 

As for Kylo Ren, well... God, we get Emperor Kylo Ren. Kylo Ren, the Emperor. I’m not even that upset about the anticlimactic murder of Snoke (that was kind of funny, especially in the context of Palpatine going, “Bitch, please, you’re in my chair” immediately in the next film) but just Kylo Ren being emperor. And also that the Resistance only escapes at all because he’s so dumb he made their dumb plans seem smart (i.e. concentrates all his firepower on an illusion for ten minutes while Hux goes, “Emperor, sir, we could actually destroy the Resistance right now.”

Now, you’ll notice I didn’t complain about Luke. A lot of people are upset he became a grumpy, miserable, old hermit who sits around waiting for death. Frankly though, in this universe, that’s exactly where he is. He left “Return of the Jedi” thinking he’d saved the world, he’s resurrected the Jedi Order, and all is well. Only a decade later, his students are all murdered by his nephew, the Empire’s back, and he accomplished nothing. He’s an utter failure as a Jedi (though Luke never realizes he knew jack shit about the Jedi Order and was in way over his head but I guess that’s beyond him). Why shouldn’t he go sit on a rock and wait to die? 

Now, did he have to drink that blue dinosaur milk? Well, I guess it was funny, gross but funny so... Sure, I guess he did. But I do like that he gave Rey 0 training, they had one meditation session and then he whined about how Obi-Wan was such a stupid asshole. And then Rey ran off to be with her boyfriend, who then told her that her parents were gutter trash (which again, was funny, but I don’t think that was supposed to be funny).

Of the characters introduced in the movie, the only one I really liked was the hacker, and it was for the actor/the beautiful way in which he gracefully exited stage left with zero shame going, “You all knew I was going to betray you!” You beautiful man, you.

Rise of the Skywalker

First, when something is called “Rise of the Skywalker” you know you’re in for a rough time.

But anyways, TLJ was filled with a controversy Disney didn’t want (half their audience hated it, half loved it, but at least they sold those penguin dolls) so they desperately get Abrams back. Only, what he clearly wanted from his series has been shot to hell, and now he’s left with Emperor Kylo Ren, a completely obliterated Resistance, a dead Luke, a love interest he never planned to introduce for Finn, Rey’s parental crisis being solved with trash people, Snoke just suddenly dead, Hux planning revenge, and then some.

And so, Abrams goes the brave and hilarious route of shouting “PRETEND THAT LAST MOVIE NEVER HAPPENED”

We open to a fully functioning Resistance (their bomber fleet is back, their fleet period is back, they have all their fully trained personnel). We have Rey getting the Jedi training she needed this time from Leia, who is now a Jedi, because yay feminism rammed down my throat to make the audience feel better. Rose says “It’s cool guys, I don’t want to join the adventure this film, I’m going to stay here and work on robots” so that she can gracefully exit the entire plot. Kylo Ren is demoted from Emperor in two seconds when we discover that a) Snoke was apparently Palpatine b) for unexplained reasons Palpatine’s alive (and I am now convinced that man will never die). Kylo Ren tells Rey at the first opportunity that he lied about her trash parents AND REALLY SHE’S A PALPATINE! THIS WHOLE TIME, REY! THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT. I’M SUPER SERIAL THIS TIME, REY.

Basically, in the course of an overly long movie, Abrams desperately shoves in everything he was trying to get out of the series, while sobbing, and sobbing even harder when things like Finn being Force Sensitive or Lando having a secret daughter get caught. I actually agree with the Producers on this, by the way, the Finn trying to tell Rey something scenes were weird and indicative of a love triangle but him being Force Sensitive instead... It says a lot that the movies did not change when it was removed, at all. And Lando was just this strange cameo who was in the film to make us feel nostalgic.

And this isn’t even getting to the ridiculous 24 hour time limit (which made me think there should have been some video game style clock in the corner letting us know when Dawn of the Third Day is coming), Palpatine’s other secret army on a secret Sith planet that can be easily taken down by taking out one navigation tower, Rey’s hilarious struggle with the dark side in which she has a vision of herself in a cape hissing, Kylo Ren’s hilarious redemption in which the movie in the form of Leia and Han Solo says, “Alright, Ben, it’s time to stop being evil” and he says “okay”, the fight with Palpatine in which I’m supposed to believe he dies for reals because... I have no idea why I’m supposed to believe he’s dead. The Reylo, god the Reylo, and Kylo Ren’s tragic, hilarious, death.

And then, of course, the ending where Rey decides she’s a Skywalker now.

I actually did laugh all the way through “Rise of the Skywalker”, you can’t not, I mean it’s a hilariously awful movie. The only thing that might have made it more hilarious was if we actually did get those Ewoks.

TL;DR

They’re all bad movies, if you want more specifics than this, you’re just going to have to ask me questions.

[bimswritings]

This Is Our Way

Ch.1

Summary: What happens when you make the mistake of thinking you can steel from a Mandalorian? You land yourself and job and a plethora of adventures and emotion you could never even dream of.  The question is; where will those emotions lead.

Warnings: Typical canon violence, NSFW implications and scenes later on

You can also read it on my Ao3 account.

_____________________________________

Clouds. Dark, impenetrable, depressing grey clouds are what greet you as soon as your eyes open, just like they have every day for years during your existence on the scrappy planet of  Corellia. Home to the most desperate and cruel criminals, along with the enslaved and weak civilians and captives. All mixed in with your average day citizen trying to get by.

A great place to live.

The sound of tie-fighters overhead is what first woke you, screaming as they made their morning flight overhead, acting as an ever present reminder of the Empire's presence and signaling the start of your day. Bones and joints crack in sync as you push yourself up, rubbing your eyes and crawling from the busted old weapons crate that acted as a poor supplement for a bed. Its lid laid discarded to the side, allowing the cool night air of one of the only dry nights of the month to flow in while you slept. The hard metal lining was barely tolerable, even when padded with the few scraps of fabric you had managed to snag over the years, but it was sturdy and the lid provided great protection from the ever present rain on the overcast planet.

Taking care not to trip while climbing from the enclosed space, you stumble out onto the main section of the roof and stare over the city as you stretch, trying not to cringe as certain bones popped back into place painfully. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and not even the fresh breeze that floated in from the sea could make it any more appealing.

Boring, industrial buildings stretched as far as the eye could see in varying colors of black and steel, hardly standing out against the horizon of equally dull colors only punctuated by the occasional crism Empire flag. In the middle of it all was the only decently maintained and sizable buildings on the planet, where the majority of ships for the Empire were produced. It was thanks to the presence of that one building that there was even an economy here, keeping it from turning into a more dreary and wet version of Tatooine, the outlandish world it was. The sight was enough to make your stomach churn, but had nothing on the aching pain that radiated from the organ and had you mind wondering when you had eaten last. Three, four days maybe? It didn’t matter. However long it was, the meager scraps you had managed to find behind the restaurant district of the wealthy were but a distant memory. It was this very hunger that drove you from your safe space, forcing you to climb down the pipes lining the outside of the building you resided on.

The metal creaked and groaned in protest under your weight, but you didn’t give it a second though, knowing there was nothing to worry about. You had been climbing along these fixtures for years, nimble hands and feet finding the smallest of purchases as you move along with ease.

When the ground was close enough you dropped, rolling through the impact to your feet and taking shelter behind an abandoned stall as you momentarily stumbled, vision swimming and black dots dancing before you. Force, you really need to get something to eat soon. Rainwater could only fill your stomach for so long before it lost its abilities to hold you over.

Peering around the corner, your eyes scanned the narrow alleyway, looking for any sign of stormtroopers or other rough characters that would cause trouble. You were never much of a fighter, but today especially was a day you were feeling particularly weak.

‘Alright. All I need to do is slip out, grab a couple of credits, and get back. It should be fine as long as I don’t run into-’

“Well well well. Look what we have here.” Leon’s voice spoke from behind, making you cringe and berate yourself for not being more careful. This was the last thing you needed to deal with, and Leon’s sickly smooth voice only served to grate on your nerves more as you turned to face him and his three lackeys, identifying them as Sho, Everett, and Corin.None as dangerous, but all as bad tempered as their leader.

Glacial blue eyes stared from pale skin beneath his shock of blond hair, a combo that drew ladies like flies to him. Pair that with pearly white teeth and he could have been a poster boy for some prep school on Coruscant. If not for the tattooed arms and green vest that held the insignia of a ranicore tooth, marking him as one of Sozin’s many street enforcers. His kind was the one you hated most. Cocky guys who thought that just because they were someone in some gang they had power over everyone else, not giving a second thought to those they hurt, be it man, women, or child. As long as they got a nice cut at the end of the day they were fine. Despite your hate for them, by all means joining a gang was the best way to survive here. It promised food, shelter, and constant work. All you had to do was give up your own self respect and humanity in return.

“The little Jawa had finally come out from her fortress. Tell me,” He smirked as the others formed a loose circle around you, effectively caging you in. “Get anything good lately.”

You wanted to spit at him, slap that stupid smirk off his face and leave him to go crying back to his boss. But you didn’t. Instead, you took a more casual, defensive stance, ready to get away the moment you had the chance. Slapping a fake smile on your face, you cocked an eyebrow in mock teasing.

“Please. If I had anything of interest I’m sure you of all people would know.” You were getting more nervous now, keenly aware of how close Sho was getting to your current position. Far too close for your liking.

“And with the patrols increased and punishments cracking down, things have gotten harder.''

“True, but I just never know what those sticky fingers of yours may manage to pick up. Your skill has a reputation after all.” His eyes skimmed over your body, not even trying to hide the way he was practically undressing you. The slimy bastard had been pining after you for years, ever since he had watched you lift a number of things from a trooper when you were both just young teenagers. He claimed it was for your skills but it didn’t take a genius to see he was looking for something more. “Maybe you could give me a live demonstration some time.”

And there it was.

You said nothing, only pushing yourself further against the cool metal of the wall behind you in an attempt to create some sort of distance in between you. Your stomach, the traitor it was, decided that it would be the best time to voice its own opinion, letting out a loud growl of protest that didn't go unheard.

Leon’s face took on a mask of concern and sympathy, and you might have fallen for it had you not known any better. His tone took on a softer, more whispery tone, like he was speaking to a stray feline. Not that far off if you thought about it.

“You look hungry. Why don’t you come back with me. I can get everything squared away with Sozin, and I promise, I’ll take real good care of you.”

His hand extended out in invitation, strong fingers that had ended the lives of so many gently relaxed, the other crossing behind his back in a mock gentleman pose, as if he even knew what being a decent guy even started with.

“C’mon. Think about it. No more empty stomachs or fighting for every scrap. You’d even have a nice bed to lay in at the end of the day. No more sleeping on the filthy streets.”

Scoffing, you summoned the last of your confidence, brushing past him and ignoring his invitation. “I’d rather take the streets than your blood soaked sheets any day.”

That should have been it, and it would have been for anyone else on just a code of respect among those here. But Leon wasn’t known for taking no for an answer. Before you could even make it  three steps his hand closed on your elbow, bringing you back closer to him. Despite all you twisting and pulling, his superior strength kept you close, breath fanning your skin as he spoke.

“Listen here, I’ve been more than kind in my advances. A saint some may even say, so you’re not going to walk away from me, understand? No your going to come back and-”

“Hey!” A shout from the end of the alleyway interrupted him, drawing all your attention as the squadron of storm troopers rounded the corner to the alley, falling in line behind their captain.”You there! What’s going on?”

At the sight of the local law enforcement and their blasters, Leon’s grip loosened a fraction. Just the smallest amount really, but enough for you to be able to slip from his grip and between Sho and Corin before they could stop you. You ignored the shouting of the officer, sprinting in the opposite direction and around the corner into the main streets of Corellia.

‘Good luck trying to find me now.’ You smirked, pulling your hood up to conceal your face as you effortlessly blended into the crowd, becoming just one of the thousands of faces that traveled through as you continued on your way. Now it was time for the real work to begin.

Just as with the seasons, your own hunting grounds changed, ever rotating through the different sectors in order to keep law enforcement off your tail. It was one of the first lessons you had ever learned; never hunt in the same spot for more than a few weeks.

Today was a fresh start in the port district, leaving an abundance of new and unaware targets. It was a popular place for travelers as well, who were especially naive, but even with that you knew today would be a challenge. It hadn’t been a lie when you told Leon that the troopers were cracking down. More patrols and increased severity of punishments had started to begin in order to ‘cut down the crime’, as your senator put it. Fat chance of that though, as one could argue that Corellia ran on crime. Still, the effort put forth was really putting the pressure on smaller people like you, who were just trying to survive, not to mention the street vendors and shop owners had installed their own new security measures in place, leading to an unfavorable combo that led to your current weak and hungry state. So you were here, looking for some oblivious fool to cop a few credits off from your perch just outside the mechanics.

As your eyes scanned the crowd, looking for visible money holders or those with liftable jewelry and other items, you saw him. He was hard to miss actually. The beskar he wore from head to toe shone proudly even without the light of the sun hidden above, speaking of its own durability and care shown by the owner. Alongside him was a pod, closed, and most likely carrying whatever supplies he had picked up from the market. The brown cape around his shoulders did nothing to hide the gun scross his broad back, nor the dozens of smaller weapons strapped to his person.

He stood tall above the crowd, most parting like water around a stone to avoid him, and it was no wonder. Even you had heard the stories about the Mandalorians. Fierce warriors and fighters who could track their prey to the ends of the galaxy. They were the best bounty hunters and hired guns on the market. You had been witness to more than one lowlife being pulled from their seat in the cantina by his kind, kicking and begging to no avail as they were carried away, dead or alive.

Teeth gnawing on inside of your cheek, you debated with yourself. On one hand, he was a high risk target, undoubtedly being used to these kinds of places and the people who lived here. Stealing from him would earn you a blaster shot to the head if caught, that is, if he were feeling merciful enough not to crush every bone in your body. But then, he was a bounty hunter. They always carried a lot of credits, and ones worth more at that. One swipe from him could set you up for days, if not weeks! He was also the only target you had seen open worth any value the entire day, and you weren’t sure you could go much longer without food.

You debated with yourself, going back and forth as you watched him grow closer to where you sat. If you didn’t make a decision soon you would lose your chance all together.

As if detecting your hesitance, your body made the decision for you, loosening another growl from its depths, prompting you forward and before you knew it you were on the move. Pulling a small guide book from your pocket, you pretended to be grossly interested in the useless thing, eyes moving to falsely skim the words as you carefully adjusted your path closer to his, threading between the crowd with as much ease as he cut through it.

The moments before were tense, each step leaving you feeling more electrified as adrenaline coursed through your body, only feeding your blind confidence as you counted down.

‘6..5...3..2..1….Now’

You pretended to stumble, tripping on your own feet as naturally as you would walk, veering from your course and bumping into the armored man. You winced slightly as your shoulder made contact with the metal, which made your grunt of pain that much more believable and distracting while your hands got to work. Like all bounty hunters, he kept his money in front of him, just slightly to the left of his leg. A tactic to prevent pickpockets like you that frequented the scenes they often found themselves in. Smart, but you had gotten used to this tactic before, and it was a simple swipe of your hand as it quickly entered and retreated the pouch, fingers closed around an unknown number of credits, all within a fraction of a second as you mumbled apologies, raising your opposite hand in distraction as your other moved to pocket your catch.

As soon as your own fingers left the pouch, you knew you were in trouble. Years of being on the streets had taught you when you had the upper hand in a situation or not, whether you were the predator or prey. In that moment, that small fraction of a moment, you went from poised victor to the most demure of prey.

And the man in front of you was the hunter.

His hand, even quicker than your own, moved to latch onto the retreating limb. The very one holding the credits you had thought had been yours.

Head snapping up to meet his, you were faced with an unfeeling gaze in the form of silver surrounding a small ‘t’ of inky darkness that prevented you from seeing his face. You tried to pull away, only to have his stern grip tighten even more, the leather of his glove squeaking in symphony along with the crackling of the joint. Yet you still refused to drop the credits, stubbornly holding onto them out of spite and fear. If he hadn’t seen them yet, there was no way he could indefinitely prove you had taken anything from him, though the way he focused on it told you he already knew the truth.

Kriffing hell. Why had you even thought this would be a good idea. He was a Mandalorian, and in your hunger driven brain you had somehow managed to convince yourself it would actually work. Well congratulations, you had the credits, but now you were as good as dead. If he didn’t decide to deal out his own justice and kill you then and there, surely he would turn you over to the stormtrooper.

The skin on your back tingles and warmed at the thought, memories of public whippings flashing in the back of your mind and doubling your heart rate and raising your panic even more.

Maybe you could still get out of this though. He was a man, as far as you could tell anyways, and all men were susceptible to one thing, hardened warrior or not. You could distract him, try to get a trade or compromise in return for forgetting about the situation. If not him then the clones. Maker knows they were always willing to pass up small crimes every once in a while in exchange for a way to sate their horniness. Though you had never tried the practice yourself, you had heard of numerous others getting off the hook that way. How hard could it be?

Your thoughts were interrupted by movement, bringing you back from your blind panic of plotting how to get out of this. The Mandalorian had tilted his head, t-visor still trained on your face as he observed you. Those around you were all too eager to ignore the situation, walking past with explicitly diverted eyes as they went about their business. The hand not holding yours moved, making you flinch back but with nowhere to go as he kept you trained in place. It moved towards your face and you braced, eyes scrunched and ready for the impact of a palm or fist making contact.

Yet, it never came.

Instead, the soft worn leather gently pressed against your face, fingers gently running along the curve of your cheek, highlighting the bone that protruded with hunger. The occasional scrape of his beskar along the skin makes you shudder, but if he even notices he doesn’t say anything, only continuing to stare as his hand tips your face every which way for him to examine. Then he just...let go. Without another word he had dropped his hands, stepping around and continuing on his original path, leaving you behind him, frozen in place and in a state of shock.

You could have stood there for any measure of time, be it seconds or minutes. Your brain was too busy trying to process what had just happened to even think about anything else. It was only when someone rudely bumped into you, almost knocking you to the ground, that you finally snapped out of it, and suddenly you were running. Feet pounding the uneven ground as you gained speed, faces flew past as little more than blurs as you continued to put more space between you and your should-have-been attacker. If it had been any other time you might have been proud of the speed you had, the burning in your lungs of little significance. Not even when you had seen Leon once again did you blink, blowing past as he called out and tried to grab you.

Before you knew it you were rounding the alley back to your little home, leaping more than climbing up the pipes with record speed as your feet barely touched the rickety metal. You practically dove into your little crate of a home, pulling the lid and locking yourself in darkness as you tried to sooth your pulse, taking deep breaths that did little to help. Absentmindedly, you began humming to yourself. A song so out of tune and unrecognizable it would have made a wookie weep, but it was what you needed as you pressed the burning and sticky skin of your forehead against the cool metal of the wall.

Eventually, after countless repetitions or the short tune, you managed to steady yourself, bringing enough sense back to realize you were still holding onto the credits from before, which were now gripped tightly in your hand. Enough to the point where the skin had turned a pearly white and your fingers hurt to move as you slowly unclenched them, revealing angry marks and even places where the rectangular currency had bit deep enough into the skin to draw blood. But oh what a beautiful sight it was.

One hundred credits laid in your fist, clustered together in a jumble of varying amounts and different kinds, but a total amount of one hundred. You normally only got this after a week of extremely successful hunting in the summer months. The sight of it now was enough to make you cry.

Despite the urge to go and get food from the nearest vendor, you knew better than to go out right away. For all you knew he had only let you go just to follow you back to your base, probably thinking he could turn you into the stormtroopers for a bigger ransom than what he lost, or loot your own place for anything you had stored up. Jokes on him if that was the plan, because he would only get back what you took from him.

The thought stayed stuck in the front of your mind, forcing you to stay tucked in your hiding space for the remainder of the day and keeping you awake through the night. Every little sound made you jump, convinced that you would once again find yourself at the receiving end of his burning gaze, the helmet he wore only masking his expression and leaving your fate uncertain. He never showed though, never ripped the lid off your container or dragged you out into the open.

By the time you managed to fall asleep, your body finally running out of its immense supply of adrenaline, the city itself had just begun to awaken below to the wee hours of the morning, and the fighters had just begun their morning rounds once again.

‘Maybe...maybe just a few hours of sleep.’ You thought to yourself, burrowing down into your small nest of blankets. What could be the harm?

Well, apparently a lot.

You had woken up in a panic, cracking the lid to see that the sky had already gone dark once again. Swearing to yourself, you emerged once again like a Nightshrike from its cave. Foregoing any normal rituals, you allowed your body to stretch itself as you moved, hustling from rooftop to rooftop, something you only did under the cover of night. The last thing you need is someone seeing you and discovering your home up top. You would never be able to get any peace after that.

You were in a rush though, and the thought of wasting a day of work didn’t bother you nearly as much as the thought of your favorite shop closing. With the amount of credits you had now, you wouldn’t have to worry about money for a while, so the only thought you had while the dim lights of the city flicked to life below was getting there as soon as possible. Who knows, maybe you’d even have enough to treat yourself to some fruit, an expensive and rare treat for anyone on the planet.

Skidding to a stop just before the end of the row, your eyes lit up at the sight of the shop still open, clearly readying to close. Shimmying back down to increasingly deserted streets, you were already drooling at the thought of biting into something and not having to wonder what it would taste like. No more than ten minutes later you were leaving, pockets now full of brick bread as the owner locked the doors behind you.

The plan was to only eat half of one on your way back, the nutrient rich and dense pastries giving you enough energy for the day in a single bite, but not even halfway back you found yourself licking the crumbs from your fingertips, hardly holding back from grabbing one of the four remaining loafs. Instead you reached into the opposite side and grabbed the meiloorun fruit you had managed to snag.

Now this was the main event.

Sinking your teeth into the soft skin, you nearly groaned as its taste exploded on your tongue, making your taste buds dance and sing as the sweetness became so intense it almost hurt. You still loved it.

Your stomach was full for the first time in forever, almost foreign as you had begun to forget the feeling. Juice dribbled down your chin as you continued on your way home, making a deliciously sticky mess to be wiped away and cleaned by your lips, intent on not letting a single morsel go to waste.

Thankfully the trip back was less eventful than your previous outing, helping instill an eerie yet calming silence over the city and prompting you to take your time.

You always enjoyed it up here on the roofs. Hardly anyone came up, not many having the same confidence and agility possessed by you and few others, and there was an ever present breeze up here that didn’t quite reach the lower levels. Not to mention the view it gave, which was one of the main reasons you had chosen a roof as your spot for a base camp. If only you could see the stars, but alas, the sight was as rare as greenery here, leaving it up to your own imagination to construct an array of bright lights on the top of your crypt.

Finishing the fruit, you paused at the edge of the building before your own. Small lights danced in the darkness, the occasional lamp illuminating a hustling figure and the street walkers that lined the corners of streets, calling to anyone in sight. The occasional search light of a patrol ship would shin above the buildings as it made its rounds over the city.

‘Must be looking for someone’ you mused, turning back to return home. No reason to get caught out tonight, especially when you were looking at a few days of relaxation.

As you turned, a familiar flash caught your eye, triggering a new taught panic response. You could hardly believe your eyes, rubbing them extra hard just to make sure you were seeing things right. But alas the sight before you neglected to change, unfortunately not a trick of the eye like you had hoped it was, and the Mandalorian you had thought you escaped the previous day continued walking down the dark alley.

You began to sweat backing away from the edge and further out of his line of sight, trying to still keep him in yours as you peered back over and tracked his progress as he got closer.

‘Kriff. I should have known he would want his money back.’

Panicking, you began going over all the escape routes near you. Ones through city street and sewers that would be much too small for him to fit through. Though, if he had tracked you here then chances were he would be able to find you wherever you went. This really wasn’t good. You might not even be able to go collect what meager possessions you had back in your box.

Then, materializing out of the darkness as if he were made of it himself, was Leon. He stepped into the path of the Mandalorian like he had no fear and, knowing how stupid he was, you thought he might actually not have any for the bounty hunter. But why would he when he was the primary enforcer for Sozin and still had his own backup, the three from earlier.

“Hey there.” He spoke in a voice that promised nothing but trouble, hands casually resting in pockets that undoubtedly concealed a weapon of some sorts. "I've been meaning to have a talk with you. The shiny Mandalorian warrior everyone is talking about."

This, you thought, was not good.

[irkenheretic]

A Found Family AU With The Control Brains Could Actually Work, And Here’s Why

This all started as a spite-born joke, but honestly the more that I thought about it, the better it sounded to me. 

First off, this meta is gonna be going purely off canon materials. I will interpret certain lines to mean certain things, but there’ll be an alternate explanation if you don’t agree with that interpretation. 

Second, this meta is going to assume that the Control Brains are three- or more- separate entities. Which is actually supported because of this line:

Singular pronoun! 

Now that that’s out of the way, I’m gonna be judging this by a three-part metric, and going into what we actually know (and don’t know) about the Control Brains. (Spoilers: We don’t know much, and the most popular idea of their role in the Empire is pure fanon.)

Metric one is Do these characters like each other? (And if not, could these characters realistically like each other in the future?)

And judging by The Trial, I’d say... yes, actually! They seem to get along just fine. First off, they’re able to cooperate enough to conduct trial without fighting. Second, they don’t seem to be putting up with each other and act on amicable terms.

YMMV, but I see these lines as them quipping with each other. It’s kinda subtle, and lost in the fact that they both speak in monotone, but they seem kinda snarky in the same way Zim’s computer is. 

(And if they were annoyed by each other, we’d know- the Brains are capable of expressing emotions like annoyance, we see them get ticked off at Zim multiple times.)

And even if they didn’t like each other, or are only presenting as friendly to keep public image up, they could still feasibly like each other. The main appeal of ZADR/ZADF is that both Zim and Dib dislike each other but are in similar societal positions, with unique experiences that only the other can relate to. Therefore they could learn to connect using that shared experience. And whatever experience the Control Brains have being Control Brains, the only other beings that share that experience are other Brains. They’d end up getting along out of sheer desperation, at some point. You can’t spend eternity with someone and not like them at least a little eventually.

Which brings us to metric two: Do these characters deserve a family at all?

Again, I actually would argue yes. Hear me out.

So, it’s a popular (albeit unspoken) opinion in fandom that “good” characters deserve nice things like a family, and “bad” characters don’t. If you’re a fan of redemption arcs, the scope of what is a “good” character broadens, but there are still some characters even the most open-hearted of redemption-lovers won’t touch. The Control Brains, across the board, seem to fall into the latter category every single time. 

But what have they actually done wrong? Like, canonically.

In The Trial, they conduct Zim’s Existence Evaluation. This is their job and we can infer they’ve done it before.

In The Frycook What Came From All That Space, we see one of them re-encode Zim from Invader to Frycook. 

In Tak: The Hideous New Girl, one of them doesn’t let Tak retake her test.

And that’s it.

“But they rule the entire Empire-” Nope, that’s just fanon!

“But the Zim Wiki says-” In the words of Eric Trueheart, "The Invader ZIM fandom wiki is a wonderful labor of love by some very dedicated people, but it's wrong at least 25% of the time."

But fine. Let’s look at exactly what the Zim Wiki says. From the page of the Control Brains themselves, it says that the “Control Brains run the empire and their conclusions even have to be accepted by the Tallest, which means that the Tallest have no real authority over the people of Irk, and are simply figureheads (not unlike a constitutional monarchy).”

But when do we see this? Well, during the end of The Trial, the Tallest have no power to overturn their ruling. 

But do you know what that sounds like?

A FUCKING JUDGE.

If the President goes on trial, he still has to defer to the judge. That doesn’t mean that the judge is secretly in control of America and that the President is just a puppet on strings. It just means that the judge is doing his job and the President isn’t running around completely unchecked. (Please refrain from making the obvious President jokes on this post. I get it, I hate him too, but... please lemme have this post.)

There is no real evidence in the show proper to suggest that the Control Brains are all-powerful tyrants and that the Tallest are at their mercy.

And, really, would you talk like that to someone that held your life in their cold, unfeeling robot arms?

So, bottom line is, the Control Brains in the show act like judge, jury, and executioner in trials. That’s it, that’s all they do. Just because they’re called the Control Brains doesn’t mean they control everything. They could just control the trials. “Controller” could be the Irken word for “Judge,” and that’s where the name was derived from. Mechanical judges. 

“But they’re still defending awful things!” Okay, I see your point there, random person I made up to argue with on my meta post.

Which begs the question: Why? Why are the Brains acting like that? 

Well, they’re computers, right? Computers built to serve a purpose, and their purpose is this. That’s it, right? But they’re sentient. If they didn’t like it, they could protest! The fact that they don’t protest makes them complicit, and Bad Characters, right?

Guys... they’re computers.

What do you do to a computer that stops working the way you want it to?

We don’t know what the Brains think about their job. They could love it, they could hate it, they could see it as a necessary evil, they could be completely apathetic after centuries of doing it (if they’re even that old, which again, is not confirmed.)

But IF they didn’t like it... the hell are they supposed to do about it? They’re important pieces of machinery, possibly swarmed by techs ready to correct any sign of them not working right. They could have some sort of programmed-in limitation to keep them obedient. They could’ve tried, with disastrous results. They’re not like Zim. They can’t just quit. They’re computers rooted in place, closely watched for defects, and they have nowhere to go.

(And even if they did leave, who would take them in? Where could they go? Even if they downloaded themselves into PAKs or into robot bodies, the adjustment period from being a giant invulnerable heavily guarded computer to something that needs to actually fend for itself would be maddening and possibly dangerous.)

And honestly? I love Zim to bits, but he did wreck the planet and he did deserve exile. They’re just carrying out the sentence. He did cause many many disasters in Irk’s history. Plus, the Tallest were the ones that trialed him in the first place, but they have fans!

The worst thing they’ve done, unprovoked, is not let Tak retake her test. Or, more specifically, they made her wait to retake the test. We don’t even know why! Did they go “You couldn’t even get out of a room so we don’t want to send you to an enemy planet?” Did they go “You have to wait because half of Devastis is down and we’re working on half-power and half the space?” We don’t know! We literally do not know! (Plus that was only one of them.)

And I’m gonna say it: if Zib “I’m going to strand and brainwash Zims in order to commit multidimensional genocide” Membrane deserves a family, then so do the Control Brains because at least they didn’t do THAT in ACTUAL CANON.

There’s no good transition to metric three, so I’m just gonna say it: Do these characters want a family?

This part is short: We don’t know. 

They could think the idea of a family is stupid and antiquated. They could not know what a family is at all. They could want a family. They could see the entire Empire as their family. They could already see each other as a family. 

We don’t know! The concept of a family never comes up during their appearances, so we have no way to know their thoughts on the subject.

Good thing fandom is transformative and we can make headcanons n’junk! (And really, who doesn’t love a good old-fashioned “character/characters don’t want a family and are gruff and standoffish but over time warm up to the others and they end up super close” found family story?)

Anyway, that’s all I have to say about that. Also that the Control Brains are pretty funny characters in The Trial. 

I just like these guys a lot and I wish other people explored them more outside of the “these are the token evil badguys” role they fill every. Single. TIME.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. 

[unstoppableforcce]

higher prices

CHAPTER 1: spit

pairing: bounty hunter! Poe Dameron x reader

next part | masterlist | art for this story

a/n: a brand new idea though I promised to work on new parts for old stuff... however, I still hope you all like it!! I’m kinda swimming in inspiration for it right now, writing these two came so easy I’m kinda in love!!

“A drink for the thief!”

The foul chorus of the crowd cheered at that, the echoing noise reverberating around the expansive cantina as a drink was forced into your hand, exactly as the loudest presence in the place ordered.

Though the drink quickly fell from your grasp, wrists bound so tightly together that the cup escaped to the ground with nothing more than an equally echoing clank, while the contents spilled all over your already snow-soaked wears. Shame really, after the day you had, you could use the drink.

Even if it was coming from the blood-soaked hands of the real thief before you.

The hair at the back of your head was gripped tight in his gloved grasp before you were thrown to the ground with the remains of the drink. You considered standing up for a moment, but ultimately, they’d push you back to the floor anyways, right?

You needed to get out of here.

This was bad but the second they found out who you were, things were destined to get a whole lot worse. Except, after taking a long glance from the floor to the cantina surroundings, this crew had practically every avenue of escape covered.

The long window behind the bar held some promise, no crew guards serving drinks, just the somewhat gentle looking twi’lek. But even then, the bounds on your hands made it too difficult to even catch a drink, taking down even the simplest of bodies would be too hard, and that wasn’t even considering the blaster shots that would be aimed for your head the second you made a move.

No. The window wouldn’t work.

You were running out of time.

With the number of inhabitants flowing in and out of the cantina, surely one was bound to recognize your face from the wanted posters. Even the smallest whiff of the bounty tied to your head could cause a small war on this planet, surely bringing the first order to collect…

A hand found its way back to your neck and you were hoisted to your feet then subsequently slammed against the counter, your bound hands doing little out in front of you to cushion the impact. This you could handle. Stars, part of you was maybe even considering letting him beat you black and blue. At least then, with your face unrecognizable, you had a chance to survive.

The irony of it being the only way you could survive was not lost on you, but at the moment, nothing else was looking much better.

Nothing else—

“What have you got yourself here, Qi-Te?”

More than anything in the entire galaxy, you wanted that not to be the voice belonging to the man you knew it was. But one tip of your head in his direction, and you got your answer.

He was exactly what you feared. Him and his big mouth.

And speaking of his mouth, he let his tongue drag out languidly over his bottom lip, purposely eyeing you up and down the way nearly every man and being in the place had the second you were brought in. You couldn’t tell if it was really him or just an act. You also weren’t sure it made much of a difference.

He had a new scar across the bridge of his nose, and for half a second, you actually wondered how he got it.

Then Qi-Te grabbed you by the back of the neck once more and turned you as if to present you to him, and you remembered you didn’t care.

“You like her?” Qi-Te began, licking his lips in a similar fashion, though much less subtle than the man before you. “I’m thinking of keeping her, she’d look good in chains permanantly, don’t you think?”

Here was the real test. Could the infamous hunter keep his mouth shut?

You certainly had no plans to give him the satisfaction of pleading to him with your eyes but if you looked desperate, it was mainly because you were.

“Very good.” He quirked the brow not lined through with a scar towards you, as if to silently say you’re welcome.

You flashed back a subtle roll of your eyes, just enough to get your message across without accelerating your imminent demise. He seemed to get it, the smirk at the corner of his lips flicking upwards slightly. It was a purely silent conversation and you already wanted to hit him.

“I’d give you a go at her Dameron, but I’m guessing you came with something else in mind?” Qi-Te gave a whistle to the nearest member of his crew and quickly passed you off to him, the grip moving to your shoulder instead of the back of your neck. “You come for business?”

“That I did.”

Dameron gave you one last look as you were pulled away, and for a second, the briefest second, you almost swore you saw a small falter in his smirk, but you didn’t linger on it. If he was here for business, it didn’t matter. Not selling you out now didn’t mean he wouldn’t if the bargain turned in his favor.

You needed a way out. Now more than ever.

Putting any faith in that bounty hunter hadn’t gotten you anything in the past, you certainly didn’t have high hopes this time around.

He was going to get you killed—

“Can I get one last look at her?” He piped up just as you were to be led away from the bar for your next beating. The grip turned you back around, even as you fought it, it was overpowering to say the least. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen anything like her.”

Disgusting. If this was an act, he sure was laying it on thick.

“For the bounties you’ve brought, I owe you more than a look Dameron.”

Bounties? Plural. You had to muffle the scoff brewing in your chest as you were thrown his way, like a piece of mindless meat.

He caught you. White-striped gloves around your body as Qi let out a hearty chuckle, surely at the way you fell into him. “I have a few bounties for you, but they can wait. Have your fun.”

Bile rose in your throat at the thought and you briefly wondered if spitting his way was worth the beating that was sure to follow. You needed out of here—

“It won’t be long.” Dameron responded with equally boisterous amusement before turning his stare to yours. “Play nice, will you?”

Now you did spit. Directly into his face, finding the first joy you felt in weeks watching him recoil from it, letting out a heavy scoff which slowly descended to a chuckle. Qi lurched as if to teach you a lesson but Dameron held a hand up in defense.

“It’s okay.” Reaching up with one of his striped gloves, he wiped the moisture from his face before brushing the same gloved hand back through his curls. “The livelier, the better.”

His hands moved to hold you by the waist again, clenching even tighter to the fabric that covered you to keep you close as you flinched in his grip.

“That’s my man.” Qi-Te hailed.

He sure did seem to be. Maybe that was why you felt so sick so suddenly.

With one last nod to Qi-Te, Dameron began pulling you towards the private back rooms of the cantina, looking more like what you would refer to as one of Qi-Te’s men more and more. And that was as far from a compliment as you could manage for anyone.

Qi-Te led the deadliest crew on this side of the galaxy, built up in the remains that Crimson Dawn left behind when the empire fell and maybe not as wide-spread, but equally as filthy. Sadly, they were just the kind of filth who could obtain the kind of information that the Resistance couldn’t on their own. That was why you were there, to steal it from the ones who stole it first.

Or, hopefully to have it nicely handed to you as an undercover operative but clearly that hadn’t gone as planned. If it had? You’d be back on D’Qar reaping the benefits of the brand-new information instead of in the hands of the one man on the whole planet who knew exactly how much your head was worth in the right hands.

“Stop fighting me.” He seethed with hot breath into your ear as he continued to lead you along towards the back.

“Not likely.” Throwing your elbow back, he merely caught it and kept you moving.

“I’m here to help you—”

“Help me or help yourself?” You scoffed, glancing back over your shoulder to come face to face with him, having to look at him through your own loose hair from the number of times you’d been tossed around. His gaze still held as steady as ever in spite of it, it disgusted you. “You seem like a loyal employee, no?”

He leaned closer, if that was even possible. His hot breath was to your face now, all you could feel besides the near death grip he had around your waist.

“And you were doing what here, exactly?” He fought back.

“Trying to win a war, you?” Holding your ground as he went to move you again, he blew out a breath and stole a glance around, making sure no one was looking before he let any of his façade crack.

“Who the kriff do you think hired me to come get you?” He spoke, coming close to raising his voice at the end but managing to keep it low enough to avoid any unwanted attention.

You stuttered at that, just enough for him to take one last push and move you into an empty room, kicking the door shut behind him.

He moved for your stasis cuffs before you even had a chance to open your mouth, sending them clattering to the floor with a hefty sigh from his lips. For the first time since he showed up, you were finally getting a good chance to look at him and if you were being honest, he was far from the dashing hunter he tended to be whenever he turned up.

Even the white in his hair, his legendary curls known the galaxy over for their grip-ability, seemed more tousled out of place than usual.

It had been a while since he last popped up, you couldn’t help but wonder why now.

But that was second to you primary wondering, which was, why had he turned up here at all?

“The Resistance hired you?” You finally managed out, tension creeping back down your neck as he settled back against the wall two steps away from you.

“Leia called in a favor, yeah.” He released from his dampened lips, glancing to the door once then back to you, still holding all of his tension even as he tried to play it off. “She said you had gotten yourself into some trouble. I’d say that’s an understatement.”

Even in his softest voice, he sounded much further down the spectrum to sarcasm than sincerity.

“Does she know you pick up jobs for Qi-Te?” You couldn’t help but jut your chin his way.

Now his scoff was back, “Does she know you’re a spitter?”

That was a painfully quick return to the far from harmless banter between the two of you. But there was no sense in lingering on it, not if he was telling the truth.

If the General really did send him for a rescue, then he was the way out you had been looking for.

“How do we get out of here?” You prompted, taking a step towards him, “You’ve got one blaster and they’ve got an army.”

Army was maybe an understatement as well. Qi-Te ran a criminal empire. Maybe you make it out of this cantina but after that? He had the resources to rain down hell and would surely have no problem bringing in the First Order once he caught wind of who you really were.

Dameron didn’t even seem phased.

“I’m told I’m a bit like an army and well,” he shrugged, taking a step around you to put his foot up on the bed there and lifting the bottom cuff of his pant leg to grab a second blaster and pass it your way, “you should know something about fighting with absolutely zero odds in your favor, right?”

He always did like the low blows.

You took it instead of responding to the commentary but considered aiming it at him for a minute, your finger ghosted over the trigger. Eventually, your senses got the better of you and you moved for the door instead, well aware of his gaze following you there.

“You know this won’t make me like you, right Poe?”

“Princess, if I was trying for that, I would have stopped trying a long time ago.” He smirked back, the legendary Dameron smirk, then came to your side by the door.

Double-checking the blaster to be loaded, you turned to him. “Don’t call me ‘Princess’.”

“Don’t call me ‘Poe’ and we’ll call it even.”

“We are far from even.” Putting stress on every single word still didn’t feel like you were stressing it enough.

“I don’t need you telling me that, Princess.”

That was the first good chuckle you had in a long time.

Too bad you were also half-sure it would be your last as he nodded to you and opened the door up so the two of you could return to the cantina blasters ablaze.

——

-> tags: @cammisanders

[erinsusername]

Turn

Pairing ~ Agent Kallus, OC

Rating ~ PG-13

Word Count ~ 4850

Summary ~ Lt. Kalivoda meets Agent Kallus for the first time and keeps doing it whether she wants to or not.

AO3 link ~ https://archiveofourown.org/works/30074598/chapters/74069184

Invisible.

Lt. Roan Kalivoda was completely invisible to everyone around her and she preferred it that way. In the eleven years that she had worked as a droid technician for the Empire she had made no friends. She did have a careless and desperate attempt to fill a painful void with another tech that never evolved past anything physical at the beginning of her career, but after that, she made a point to keep to herself, do her job, and repeat without incident. It was exactly how she intended to get by when she joined the Empire back in her early twenties and it had worked well in her favor since. She kept her head down and did what they expected and she got what she needed in return.

She liked her assignment on Lothal. It had been a quiet planet, unresisting in its slow destruction by the Empire’s ravaging of its natural resources; that was until a small group of rebels began creating chaos a few years ago. The Imperial response had been borderline comical in its ineptitude when dealing with them, and the determined yet painfully pretentious ISB agent that was sent to capture them had been completely unsuccessful in almost every attempt. Even Vader himself had failed to turn Lothal’s residents against them. These people were good.

What fresh hell will today bring, Roan thought as she sighed heavily and looked deep into the reflection staring back at her in a small mirror hanging in her quarters. She hadn’t slept much the night before, or the night before that. In fact, she hadn’t slept well since she was twelve if she wanted to get technical with herself.

Stop. She blinked hard a few times and quickly pulled her dark hair into its regulation bun before haphazardly placing her uniform cap just above it. The woman took one quick, last look before she exited out into the bright hallway and slowly made her way to the lift at the far end of it.

She was busy fumbling with her uncooperative headpiece in the doors' reflection when they suddenly opened and the ISB agent, Kallus, appeared directly in front of her, his feet slightly apart and hands clasped firmly behind his back. He stared down his broad nose at her with a slightly raised eyebrow before she thought to bring her arms down to her sides and step onto the lift with him.

Roan had never actually seen the man in person but had heard that he carried himself as if he were the Emperor, and judging by what stood before her, it appeared the rumor was true. He was very tall, stood with a naturally intimidating stance, and his stoic, unreadable expression, along with his piercing hazel brown eyes, exuded abject confidence that she could literally feel pressing hard all around her from the moment she stepped onto the lift.

When she boarded he did not step back to allow her a comfortable space to stand forcing her to situate herself with her face just a few inches from the closed doors and himself close enough behind her that she could feel his body heat almost instantly. Or maybe it was her own that was rising rapidly, she wasn’t sure.

She immediately felt his gaze over the top of her head and straightened her posture as she quickly pushed the button to the level that would take her to the commissary. It felt to her like the lift was barely moving, which allowed more than enough time for his mere presence to completely encompass the now heavy air surrounding them and cause a subtle stir deep inside of her chest that she hadn’t felt in a long, long while. She closed her eyes, took in a slow, deep breath, and let out a long, quiet exhale before there was finally a small beep that indicated they had reached the level that the Agent had previously chosen. However, much to her dismay, when the doors opened he didn’t move to exit.

Roan said nothing as the doors closed and they restarted the merciless creep further down into the domed military base. The only sounds she heard were the hard, intense wooshing of blood in her ears broken only by the occasional sound of the leather of his gloves being stretched and relaxed by the slow movements of the long fingers of his hands.

The man was close enough to her that not only did the subtle fragrance of the fancy non-issue soap that he had obviously just washed his body with surround and linger in her nose, but she could feel each rise and fall of his broad chest with every slow, steady breath that he took and she knew that if she moved so much as a millimeter the two would incidentally touch. The mere thought of it made her face flush hot.

Stop it! You’re being ridiculous. You know better, she scolded herself.

She was so focused on his proximity, and her fear that the low hum of the elevator wasn’t loud enough to mask the sound of the pounding of her heart in her chest that when the lift reached her destination she didn’t initially realize it.

“Isn’t this your stop?” a smooth, low voice in a thick core accent came from just above her right ear, the heat of his breath caused every single hair on her body to stand erect.

“Huh? Oh, yes,” she stammered as she clamored her way out of the closing doors and toward the commissary.

Fuck, that was intense, she thought as she practically ran around a corner that led her into the open area where the base’s meals were served. Having shaken off a few of the nerves from her encounter, she turned toward a large cooler in a corner. Her call time was later than most so on most days picking was slim, but today she was in luck. Sitting alone on the back of a middle shelf was a rare container of sliced meilooruns.

 Ha, no protein bar today she thought happily as she quickly made her way across the room and grabbed the cup before anyone else had the chance.

“Why thank you!” a familiar voice mocked her as she turned, and the cup was snatched from her hand by an arrogant Ensign that was almost half her age and the bane of the entire base’s existence.

“I’m not in the mood,” she growled as she reached to take it back only to have the boy pull it above his head and tick a finger back and forth in her face causing the two other boys he was with to roar with laughter.

“Finders keepers,” he laughed as he turned on his heel to walk away.

The woman let out a long exacerbated sigh. “You’ll need the fork,” she resigned and held up the utensil in front of her.

“What a gal!” the Ensign howled back to his friends as he reached out to take it from her. But as he did, she quickly extended her arm as far out to her side as she could and when he looked she reached over with her other hand and slapped the top of the cup he was holding so hard that the lid popped off and the fruit pieces scattered across the floor.

“You stupid bitch!” he screamed loud enough to cause the entire room to go silent and everyone in it to stop and look at the spectacle.

So much for invisible.

“That’s a superior officer you are speaking to,” the thick accent from the elevator boomed through the silence and stopped Lt. Kalivoda’s, and probably everyone else’s, heart immediately.

She looked past the boy to see Agent Kallus standing a few feet behind the two punks that had been laughing along with the Ensign and his theatrics, except now they were visibly shaking.

“Yeah, well you obviously don’t know who I-,” the boy mocked as he turned to face his aggressor before he realized his mistake.

“I know exactly who you are. I had wondered how someone from such a prestigious pedigree ended up way out here on a no name planet in the far outer rim. Now I know. Tell me, did you even manage to finish the academy or did they just put you this far out so no one would ask questions?” Kallus asked callously as he slowly circled the boy like he was injured prey. “Your mother must be so proud.”

“You can’t spea-,” the Ensign began to protest.

“Apologize,” the Agent interrupted.

The boy hesitated for a long few seconds before he finally rubbed the back of his neck, “I, uh, yeah, I’m sorry, sir.”

“Not to me, imbecile,” he growled as he tilted his head toward Roan.

The Ensign looked momentarily surprised before he reluctantly conceded, “sorry,” he mumbled while looking at the floor.

“Do better,” the Agent commanded. He was now standing directly behind the Ensign that he towered over due to an impressive height difference.

The boy looked shocked. Roan had never seen anyone take him to task before. Most people were afraid to because of who his family was, but not Agent Kallus. He was relishing in his assault.

The Ensign cleared his throat, “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he squeaked out before he looked back at the Agent for affirmation.

“Do better,” he simply said again.

The kid looked absolutely horrified by this point. “What would you like for me to do, then?” he asked with a tinge of moronic sarcasm.

Kallus coolly walked to his side and leaned down to his other ear, “get on your knees.”

“What? You can’t make me do that!” the boy stammered as he tried to turn to move away; however, before he could the Agent grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face Roan.

She wanted to run away as fast as she could but her legs wouldn’t work. Part of her was actually loving the humiliation of the asshole in front of her but another part was vicariously embarrassed and she knew if she tried to leave that she would end up on the punishment end of this bizarre encounter as well. And after the intimidation in the elevator, she wasn’t about to risk that.

Kallus leaned down and whispered something into the Ensign’s ear that made his eyes grow wide and a few seconds later drop to his knees.

“Lt. Kalivoda,” he began before the Agent nudged him with his large boot causing him to clasp his hands together in front of his chest. “I would like to extend my most sincere apology for my behavior.”

She looked up wide eyed from the boy to the Agent who was looking down with an almost mischievous grin across his lips.

He’s enjoying this.

“I hope that you can forgive me for my unacceptable actions,” the Ensign finished.

Kallus looked up to notice that she was still looking at him and she instantly covered with a small cough and quickly moved her gaze back down to the matter at hand that knelt on the floor in front of her.

“Do you accept his apology?” he asked her seriously.

She was tempted to say no to see what else he was capable of, but opted to end the situation as fast as possible instead. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Are you sure?” the Agent asked her, his hazel eyes transfixed on her own so deeply that a few seconds went by before she realized that she wasn’t breathing when he asked again, “Lieutenant?”

“Yes. That is fine,” she replied standing up straighter and clasping her hands behind her back.

“Good. Get up,” he barked down at the Ensign as the boy clamored to his feet. He grabbed his arm and pointed at Roan, “mess with her, or anyone for that matter again, and you’ll be emptying vac-tubes by hand on Hoth for the rest of your career. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the kid said with a hint of defiance before his arm was released and he and his friends made a quick escape around a corner.

The people in the room began to slowly go back to their business, but Kallus and Roan just stood and stared at each other in silence for what she thought was an eternity.

“Why did you let him do that? You outrank him,” he asked angrily.

“He gets away with everything because of who he is. I’ve made numerous complaints. Nothing ever happens,” she replied matter of factly. “Also, while I sincerely appreciate you stepping in, you just made things a thousand times worse.”

He took a step closer and put a finger toward her chest, “if he so much as looks at you wro-,”

“Again, I appreciate what you’re doing, but I don’t need a protector,” she scoffed. “I need to get going. Thank you for your help,” she smiled and nodded as she made her way out of the commissary and to the safety of her workstation.

   By fourteen hundred, Lt. Kalivoda’s stomach was growling hard. With the bizarre fiasco of the morning she had missed out on actually getting something to eat and it was starting to show.

It wasn’t the only thing that was bothering her either. While she was grateful for the Agent’s backup in the commissary, the more she thought about it the more annoyed she was with his behavior in the lift. Or, at least she considered it annoyed, she wasn’t sure. She didn’t take lightly to intimidation, but at the same time, she couldn’t stop thinking about how unintimidated she was by it.

Did she get flustered? Unequivocally. Seduced? Not even close. Okay, perhaps maybe slightly beguiled at the most. Stars, he did smell wonderful though. Like trees on a warm summer evening in Naboo.

That is dangerous, girl! she thought as she shook her head hard and tried again to concentrate on the task before her.

“R3, will you shine a light directly down into this area?” she asked the green R-unit beside her.

The little machine let out a beep and maneuvered its mechanical arm up and over the top of the opened canopy of the R4 unit that she was working on.

“Great,” she sighed after digging around for a few seconds.

Her little green companion let out a few concerned beeps in response.

“Well, luckily it’s just a loose bolt,” she informed it. “But it’s a tiny one and in a place that I can’t reach easily without taking the whole damn thing apart.”

She sighed heavily again and sat down between the two droids while she thought. A few minutes later she hopped up and quickly headed for the very back of the workshop where she kept her obscure, rarely used tools and slowly began to scour the area for what she hoped she still had.

“Keep an eye on the front, R3,” she called over her shoulder.

After about fifteen minutes she still hadn’t found what she needed and, between it and her growling stomach, was becoming increasingly frustrated by the second.

“Hello?” someone yelled over the sound of her droid’s protests.

She swallowed the urge to scream back and instead politely replied loudly, “I’ll be up there in a minute!”

“I don’t have a minute,” a cocky response came from closer to the back shelving unit where she was standing.

Unbelievable, she thought as she leaned her head back and slowly exhaled in an attempt to not scream. When she opened her eyes, she couldn’t believe what she saw.

“I knew you were back here,” she whispered to the long handle of the specialty socket wrench extender that sat poking out precariously from the very top shelf behind her. She quickly began to look around for a stepping stool, to no avail, when the voice shouted again, this time even closer to her.

“Seriously, I don’t have all day!” came a threat in an all too familiar voice.

You’ve got to be kidding me, she screamed in her mind.

“You can’t be back here for safety reasons! Please go back to the front and I will be right there,” she shouted with as much venom in her voice as she could muster. She rolled her eyes and began to assess how she was going to retrieve the extender and not kill the ISB Agent with it once she did.

The unit was almost three meters high, which meant she was going to have to climb up the first few of the rickety shelves to reach it. She swallowed hard and put her hands on the ledge that was just above her head and pulled down as hard as she could with most of her body weight. When nothing happened she took it as a good sign and cautiously stepped up onto the first shelf. After a few fearful seconds, she decided it was safe and reached up and repeated the process.

On the third row up she felt that the extender was close enough to reach out for, but when she did her fingertips could only barely graze the cold metal handle.

Seriously? She sighed as she shifted her weight inward and reached out again; however, before her arm completely extended, the shelf that she was holding onto suddenly broke and flipped toward her causing her center of gravity to shift backward.

It felt like slow motion when she felt herself begin to fall and she braced hard for the impact that her back and head were going to make with the hard floor, except she didn’t. At the last possible second, she felt something hook around her upper back and under her knees before quickly spinning her away and shielding her from the falling debris that she had pulled down with her. She didn’t see what happened, but she immediately knew by another one of her senses. Trees.

“It looks like you do need a protector,” he said quietly into her ear before she finally found her bearings and fumbled her way out of his arms.

She quickly straightened her posture and smoothed out the fabric of her one-piece work jumper before clearing her throat, “thank you,” she squeaked out in a voice that was easily two octaves higher than her own.

What the hell is your problem, she scolded herself.

The man just stood in front of her with his head tilted slightly to his right.

“If you don’t mind going back to the front, I will be with you in a moment,” she said as she gently pushed past him and looked up at the tool that sat exactly where it had before she tried to initiate a shelving tsunami.

“You’re welcome,” he answered unenthusiastically as he stepped toward the cabinetry causing her to instinctively turn to face him and back peddle up against the shelves. He stood close enough to her that she had to lift her chin up to see his face as he slowly, and without looking away from her, reached above his head and grabbed the extender from where it sat.  

“Looks like you owe me one,” he said in a low voice as he slowly looked her up and down before he finally handed her the tool and sauntered away cockily.

Stop, stop, stop. You are a grown-ass woman, act like it, she told herself as she pulled herself back together and rounded the corner that would take her back to the front of the work area.

The Agent was waiting for her when she finally got to the front desk.

“I wasn’t aware that you had a droid,” she informed him as she pulled her datapad out from a drawer. “What’s the req number?”

“I don’t have one. I need help with this,” he replied as he placed his own datapad on the counter.

She looked down at it and tried her hardest to collect herself before she looked back up. “That’s not a droid.”

“I know, but it won’t turn on and IT-“

“Take it back up to them and hit the first person you see with it. Tell them I sent you.”

He just turned his head slightly at her sudden burst of hostility.

“I do droids, not computers,” she almost growled before a series of equally hostile beeps came up from behind her. “Easy, R3,” she said in an easier tone as she patted the droid’s head. “They send me the stuff they can’t fix so I get blamed instead,” she huffed as she pulled a stool behind her.

“I’ll take it back then,” Kallus offered as he reached to take it back.

“Wait,” she hesitated for a brief second. “You’re already here. What happened to it?” she asked as she plugged the machine into a cord that ran under the counter.

“It just stopped working. There is very important intelligence on there and I need access to it immediately,” he said with what she was beginning to notice was a perpetual air of superiority that carried in his voice.

“Is it charged?” she joked as she plugged in another cord.

“I think I’m smart enough to know if-“ he stopped when he realized that she was kidding. He stood silently as she connected the device to her own before flipping it over and removing the back casing.

“Did you throw it or something?”

He just looked at her perplexed.

“I’m serious this time. There’s some really odd damage here,” she said in awe as she poked at the malformed components with a small screwdriver. “It looks like a tiny person got in here and just started pulling things apart,” she continued without looking up.

He watched the almost wonder-like expressions on her face as she prodded further into the device before she picked it up and held it closer to the light. “We went too close to a cluster of collapsed stars.”

“That’s brave,” she mumbled before she set the tablet down and looked at him seriously. “I’m guessing you didn’t go in because it started pulling your ship apart?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it did the same thing to everything; the ship, its equipment, even you. I can’t fix this, but I can try to salvage the right parts of it and get your data off of it,” she offered with a small shrug. “Hopefully.”

“Fine, how long will it take?” he huffed loudly.

“I can start on it when I finish this one,” she offered as she pointed her thumb over her shoulder at the headless R4. The look on his face said that it wasn’t good enough but she could tell his brain interjected before his mouth opened.

“Fine, let me know as soon as it is completed. It’s very important,” he conceded before turning and walking out.

Roan just looked down and winked at the little green droid that never left her side. “It’s very important,” she mocked in a horrendous attempt at the man’s accent before she went back to work.

   It was well into the evening before she managed to retrieve the files saved to the Agent’s datapad. The machine itself was a complete loss but she had managed to get it somewhat working long enough to transfer everything to an external hard drive.

“Okay, R3, take this to his office,” she instructed the droid as she handed over the device.

The robot let out a long series of fast beeps.

“Well, I don’t want to either and you’re already holding it,” she laughed as she sat heavily on a stool. It had been a really long day and she really just wanted to take a long, hot shower and try to sleep.

R3 rocked back and forth angrily before aggressively pushing his way through the swinging door that she had installed below the front counter especially for it.

“I love you!”

All she heard back were its agitated boops of dismay slowly grow quieter as the droid rolled further away from her down the corridor.

“Sorry, buddy. I’ve had my fill for the day,” she said softly to herself as she hopped up and began to put away the array of small tools and components that were scattered all over her work area. As she reached down to lift a box onto the countertop her gaze fell to a small black cord laying on the ground.

That droid is going in the compactor, she sighed as she walked over and picked up the connection cord to the hard drive that the unit was taking to Kallus. The cord that he would have to have.

Maybe I can catch up before R3 gets there, she thought as she quickly scooped it up, pushed through the door, and began to jog down the hallway.

She didn’t get very far before she heard her droid beeping frantically over the sound of maniacal laughter and the sudden sound of something hard hitting metal. When she rounded a corner to her left she saw R3 surrounded by the Ensigns from the cafeteria kicking at the scared machine as it tried desperately to avoid their assaults.

Roan didn’t even hesitate when she ran up behind the boy closest to her and smashed her heel down hard into the outside of his right knee. He howled as he fell to the floor causing the other two to turn and face her, which gave R3 the chance to escape.

“You really are a stupid bitch,” the ringleader snapped as he lunged toward her.

She readied her stance to take him in a frontal assault, but suddenly a sharp pain in her ankle caused her to fall back right into the arms of the third assailant slightly in front of her to her right side. The Ensign on the floor had composed himself enough to return a kick to her foot and suddenly she found herself pinned against the wall with her left arm pulled up high between her shoulder blades. The boy staggered his feet and leaned against her with all of his body weight making it hard for her to breathe and impossible to move. She felt his fingers slowly slide into her hair at the base of her skull before he suddenly closed his fist and pulled her head back hard.

“The shit I’m going to do to you, little bitch,” the leader growled into her ear as he walked over and grabbed her chin yanking her head to face him. “Where’s your boyfriend now, huh?”

Roan whispered something inaudible.

“What was that?” the boy asked laughing as he put his ear closer to her mouth.

“I don’t need him,” she whispered again before she leaned back and slammed her forehead into the cartilage of his ear as hard as she could. Pain engulfed her entire body as the sharpness of what she immediately assumed was a small concussion was contrasted with the burning from her scalp by the handful of hair that the other boy was holding and probably ripped out when she moved forward as hard and fast as she did.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” he screamed as he fell to the ground and she leaned back against the wall to keep her dizziness at bay as best she could. Purple stars filled her field of vision and quiet, obscure beeps began to creep into her auditory senses.

The ensign holding her against the wall pulled her head back again forcing her to look up at the ceiling. “That was stupid,” he whispered slimily into her ear as she felt him grind himself into her back. “But, I like when they fight back.”

She felt a wave of abject disgust wash over her before she leaned into his face, “you better-.”

Before she could finish she heard a blaster ready and a Stormtrooper bark out an order to stand down. The Ensign slowly let go and backed away with his hands up as another trooper placed cuffs on the two others still lying on the floor.

The beeps grew louder as the ringing in her ears began to subside and she turned and slid down the wall to sit on the floor with her nervous droid that had gone to get help.

“Are you alright?” a quiet voice asked from above her. Kallus knelt down a few feet in front of her and looked genuinely concerned.

“I’ll be fine. It’s nothing some ice and a light analgesic won’t fix,” she replied as her attackers were led away, the one that had held her against the wall made a small kiss at her before he was pushed down the hall.

R3 growled and Kallus had to physically stop the droid from chasing after him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” he said darkly to the small robot before it finally wheeled back over to its place beside Roan. He looked at her for a long few seconds before he finally stood, “I’m sorry that you got hurt.” He turned to walk away and quietly added, “it won’t happen again.”

[spell-cleaver]

The armored door of the bunker sealed shut with an ominous thud, then there was only Vader’s breathing breaking the silence. Alone. Luke was alone with the man. It was like his worst nightmares, but this time it was real. Luke found his own breath quickening.

Previous parts on the masterpost here!

The armoured door of the bunker sealed shut with an ominous thud, then there was only Vader’s breathing breaking the silence. Alone. Luke was alone with the man. It was like his worst nightmares, but this time it was real. Luke found his own breath quickening.

"Luke?" Vader asked immediately, stepping forwards. Luke cringed back into his seat, panicking. "Luke, little angel, are you—"

"This is all my worst nightmare," he said breathlessly. "This— being trapped in a room with you—"

Vader seemed to deflate at that, shrinking back into himself. "I... understand, Majesty, I—"

"He's going to take my body," Luke babbled on. "He's going to take my body and crush my soul, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"Luke—"

Luke met his gaze, sucking deep, desperate breaths in and out of his lungs like a panicked bird, staring. Vader reached for his hands and took them gently; when Luke squeezed them as hard as he could, hard enough to crush and splinter, he suspected that Vader's durasteel fingers felt nothing.

"I will protect you," Vader promised.

"And what if you fail?" Luke snapped. "What if they strike while you're not there? I'm too weak to protect myself, I'm nothing, he'll just take what he wants and—"

"Luke," Vader said. "Even if I am not there, you are not weak. You will not give into him—I know that much. You are so strong, little angel."

"I'm a crap emperor and a crap Force-wielder. I'm not strong in any way, shape or form. I—"

"You are strong. You are bold and brave and brilliant—you always have been. I... resented you for it, when you were younger," Vader's vocoder stuttered as he tried to get the words out, and Luke was just as shocked at that, "but that was petty and weak on my part, especially when I took those frustrations out on you. You are strong—in the Force, stronger than even your father was, so, so strong... but in other ways as well. Your kindness, your love, your compassion. Your friends, Organa and Veers, know it. Sabé knows it. I know it. You are so brave, and you have been dealt such a bad hand, and you have dealt with it better than anyone else ever could."

Luke looked up at him, wide-eyed. He was too surprised to panic, now, at hearing that.

Vader leaned in slightly. Funnily enough, it came off as reassuring and not just... leering or intimidating, with his black death mask.

"You are strong, Majesty," he promised. "Ahsoka has told me as much—you are diligent, and focused, and your progress in these mere few days is stunning. Sabé as well tells me of your skill and sensitivity when conducting those meetings with those senators. Even the disgusting ones." He let a part of his distaste for them seep into his voice; were he any less frightened, Luke would have giggled, but instead the corners of his mouth just tilted upwards.

"You should not write yourself off," Vader continued, softer; his vocoder didn't pick up the softness but the Force, and therefore Luke, did. "You are a phenomenal human being. And while I would like nothing more than for you to be safe, to stay in the Palace away from all these dangers, and while I will try to keep you from these dangers until my last dying breath, I know that you are capable of handling them yourself.

"You are capable and clever enough to find a way, little angel. So while your fear is justified here, you need not dwell on it. Trust yourself, and the Force, that your destiny contains a happier path than the one you have already walked." He placed a hesitant hand on Luke's shoulder; Luke leaned into it, and sensed his relief. "And trust that your mother would be so, so proud of you."

A hitch in his breathing. "Trust that..." he said. "Trust that both your parents are proud of you. Immensely. Wherever they are."

Luke blinked back tears. It failed; they flooded his cheeks and he gasped, staring at the dark lord through swimming sight. He sobbed.

"Can—" He stopped, then swallowed. "Can you tell me about them? Her," he amended hastily, not wanting to cause an argument again, not wanting to be reminded just how many secrets that even Vader, when he was trying to be as sweet and supportive as a Sith Lord could possibly be, was hiding from him— "Can you tell me about her? I've heard things from Nova, but—"

"But you wish for a different perspective?" Vader guessed. Luke nodded shyly. "Of course, little angel. She..."

There was a pause. Luke, despite his tears, despite the emotion he could sense from Vader—and strange, that was, that he could sense something from Vader so very, very strongly, that there was some bond between them that had forged from care and dedication and whispered promises after years of estrangement—that reminded him of tears... he thought Vader might have been smiling.

"Padmé," he said, taking a moment to revel in just saying her name, "was... the first person I called an angel. You... remind me of her greatly, in that respect, little one. I first met her when I was nine years old, when she was being accompanied by Jedi—that... that was how I became a Jedi, in fact. She was kind to me, perhaps one of the kindest people I'd ever met, and then I offered her help and her Jedi guard recognised me  as Force-sensitive. But she was the most important thing that came out of that encounter."

Luke blinked. It... it was fascinating, really, how Vader refused to talk about himself, but the more Luke's mother was referenced... he put pieces of his own backstory into that story as well.

"I didn't see her for a few years after that, but I still thought about her. She was the Queen of Naboo, as you know, until she was eighteen, and she became the most popular monarch they'd had in recent history. The Naboo even tried to amend their constitution so that she could serve longer, but she refused, and stepped down. She went on to serve as a senator—"

"Wait." Luke frowned. "She—she was offered the chance to become an autocratic leader of a planet, she was that popular, but she refused? She believed in democracy that much?"

"She..." Vader sounded like he was getting out the words through gritted teeth, but he evidently knew that what he didn't say, Sabé would. "...did. Yes."

Luke bowed his head. "I'm an emperor," he said quietly. "She—"

"Little angel," Vader said. "She wanted what was best for the galaxy. That was all she ever wanted. In the time that she was eighteen, what was best for Naboo was democracy. In this uncertain time, and in the times after the Clone Wars, in the wake of the failures of the Republic, the galaxy was in need of a firm hand. She was... reluctant to accept it, at the time, and ultimately died her untimely death before she came to accept it, but I know that you will do just as well."

Luke didn't look up. Vader apparently felt the need to reiterate: "I know you will do what is best for the galaxy, just as she did. You have her heart."

"Will I?" Luke asked. "I don't even know what's best for the galaxy. I don't even know what's best for me."

"Well, do you believe in the Empire?" Vader pointed out, like there was no question to it at all.

But Luke hesitated.

"I was never taught anything different," he said. He could almost see Vader narrowing his eyes behind that mask at the noncommittal answer. He could sense the guards shift around him. "But from what I can tell... it hurts a lot of people. I don't know if I believe in it at all."

Vader stared.

"You..." he began. Rage crashed into his voice, then evaporated like morning mist. Luke supposed he appreciated the effort? "You have been spending time with Sabé's friends, the Organas, I see."

Luke frowned. "A little bit. Why?"

"Nothing, little angel." Vader's teeth were definitely gritted there. "Senator Organa was close friends with your mother."

Luke perked up. "He—"

"I will not disapprove of this... dalliance. But I would suggest you speak in more depth to General Veers, when he teaches you to work with the blaster. He may provide you with an alternate view on the galaxy and the Empire's place in it."

Luke frowned. "You mean the only view I've ever been taught? That it brings stability and security after the chaos of the Republic? I know that view. It's all I know."

"Then why doubt it?"

Luke grimaced. "Why doubt my father?" he shot back, and Vader winced in understanding.

"I do not know what to tell you, little angel," Vader said at last. "I believe in the Empire. I know that Lady Sabé does not. Whether you do or not is something only you can decide. You are the Emperor."

"What if I don't want to be?"

Vader didn't say anything for a long time in response to that admission. Finally, he just said, "You are the Emperor, Majesty. You choose where to go from here."

"And what if I choose wrong?"

"You will not. Your mother never did, and you are too much like her."

And from the way Vader said that, there was nothing more to it.

Send me the first line of a scene from this AU and I’ll continue it!

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[martellthemandalor]

Assistance - Chapter 3

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (No Y/N, reader is nicknamed)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of drinking, violence

Rating: 15

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: Mando is curious of his new boss partner, you tell some believable truths

A/N: A lot of dialogue in this one! As always I’m open for feedback, enjoy :)

Masterlist!

Walking with the Mandalorian was akin to walking alone. He never made a sound, just walked alongside you, following your lead. You’d set your internal tracker to sync with the tracking fob signal, and through you eyeglass you could see the path you needed to walk. At the same time as showing the way it was constantly scanning the terrain, thin blue lines constantly passed across in front of your eye, mapping the land and sky. You’d been walking for about two hours, trekking across endless fields of red and yellow grass and along beaten tracks of dusty brown. 

Detsak was primarily a farming planet, the city was the only densely populated area of the planet, built for the purpose of trade only, the buildings designed for shops, cantinas and places for merchants to stay. The rest of the planet’s inhabitants were scattered, living in smaller colonies, usually made up of just families, generations farming the same acres of land all living together. There was something quite peaceful about that, you thought. 

Of course everything was different know, what was once a tidy and prospering world had turned quiet and overgrown. Grass grew long, bushes that lined the fields were unruly and stretched their branches out into the open space, and wildflowers that would usually have been uprooted by farmers ready for planting crops spread out across the land dotting pockets of vibrant colour underfoot.  

It would be calming, it should be calming, instead anxiety fuelled every step you took. Everyone knows that Detsak isn’t as pleasant as it seems and most people who come here now are either desperate to hide or desperate to die. It’s a kind of peace you suppose, a very morbid and permanent peace, but still peace. The sun glared down at you, bathing the land in orange light. 

You could understand why it had been nicknamed ‘The Burning World’, for when the sun shone down and touched the mottled red and orange tones of grass from above, the fields appeared to be aflame. Stars was it hot too, sweat was beginning the build under your layers of armour, thank the Maker you had changed into the lightest material you owned before leaving.

“You walk like a man,” The Mandalorian’s static tone cut through your thoughts. You turned your head to him, eyebrow cocked.

“And?” It wasn’t as if you hadn’t heard that said before, your abrupt reply was more out of shock that the Tin Can had taken notice of something as trivial as your walk of all things.

“It’s unusual,” he stated, looking at you and then back to the path ahead. You should have left the conversation there, he’s hardly the talkative type, but habit prevented you from doing so.

“The guild has always been prejudiced, elitist bastards. Reputation pays higher than skill, showmanship rewarded over risk and most of all men get paid buckets more than female…coworkers,” You rolled your eyes at that, a reflex to merely saying those words, “I learnt early on that if I wanted to make any decent amount credits then I needed to reinvent myself, and quickly. So I did. I cut my hair off, changed my walk and adjusted my clothes for the illusion of a bigger frame. Not so much to look like a man, to do that I’d need to change my face, but enough to cause ambiguity over my gender. Then I took jobs, and as I did a consistently good job at them the guild chose to see me as a male member, because obviously to them a woman couldn’t do a job as good as that, and who was I to contradict them? I was making good payments, bought new armour and upgraded Astrid more and more. Life was good.” You could feel a tension in your jaw forming, just remembering what happen filled you an internal quiet rage.

“What happened?” The Mandalorian prompted.

“Something stupid,” you replied through gritted teeth, “There’s a cantina on Janothla, the planet where I’m based, and they serve the most incredible drinks, I mean Maker above they make your head spin and your heart soar and they taste so damn delicious,” You were beginning to salivate at the mere memory at them, a small smile playing across your face, glancing over at the Mandalorian you were met with the emotionless beskar steel and it brought you back to reality. Clearing your throat you continued your story. 

“It was my favourite place to frequent after a hard quarry, an easy place to drink and get distracted. One night after a really horrible hunt I had gotten particularly drunk. All I did was smile, it was a fucking smile at a girl sat across the bar from me, but it was enough for her boyfriend to come storming up to me, he grabbed my shoulder and forced me to look at him, pressing me into the edge of the bar, telling me ‘no one makes eyes at my girl ‘cept me, and especially not some low life man who makes a living off bounty hunting’. I snapped, kicked him in the dick and slammed him into the bar, pinned him to it by the throat and shouted ‘First of all mate I’m no banthashit man and second, if you don’t want your ass in carbonite you better show some more respect to a fucking guild member,’” You rubbed the bridge of your nose as you recalled what you had said. God you were such a drunken idiot. You heard a low chuckle next to you.

“Sounds like that bastard got what he deserved though.” You flashed a smile at him and hummed in agreement.

“Anyway, I didn’t realise my mistake until the next day, you can’t go to a bar like that and shout that loudly without attracting the attention of some guild member. I went to the usual spot to meet Grijib, my guild contact, and instead I was met by 4 senior guild members, who told me I had been lying to them, and they can’t mistrust like this in the guild, reputation is everything etc. as if the whole guild wasn’t built and made up of liars and murderers.” You caught him nodding at that, a silent agreement. 

“Anyway they erased my profile of all my good kills, and bumped me down to entry level quarries. That was 6 months ago and they’ve been paying me less and less since then.” 

Saying that made you feel so defeated, all your hard work had been destroyed over a stupid mistake. Things really hadn’t been getting any better apart from the guild sending to you the far reaches of the galaxy on long missions, you enjoyed the journeys, those long hours spent under the streaking lights of hyperspace, and the thrill of the hunt never changed, no matter how long it took to complete.

“That’s why you’re out here then. The guild sent you to a planet they washed their hands of to punish you,” He stated with a tone of, was that sympathy?

“Yeh.”

What you didn’t say is that it wasn’t the fact the odds of you getting killed out here were a lot higher, it really didn’t factor in at all, it was the fact that this planet surrounded with painful memories you so wanted to forget. The colours of flame licked all around you, it put you on high alert. You knew that this planet looked on fire from above, but it hadn’t prepared you for how much it also looked aflame from the ground. You hated it.

The silence resumed. It didn’t seem so easy to walk in it after he had now spoken; it was like he had woken up your senses to be constantly aware of him again. Your eyes kept shifting from following the path ahead to observing the statue of beskar next to you, Maker he must be dying in that thing. The helmet must have some kind cooling system because if you were in it you were sure you would have passed out by now.

“Why are you a bounty hunter” His voice once again drew you from your head. It was less of a question and more a statement, a demand almost. Two hours of silence and now he’s overcome with an urge to get to know you? Okay then.

“I grew up in the forests of Tarligh, just me and my family on our farm. We grew and traded in horned melons. Money was always a little tight so my father taught me and my sister to hunt so that we would always have food for the table no matter how little credits we had. He told me I picked it up like a pelikki to water, which was ironic given how many pelikki’s we shot out of the water,” You chuckled to yourself at this, throwing him a look over your shoulder, “It always made him proud how fast I’d learned and how often it was mine and my sisters kills that kept the family fed. Anyway, when the rebels put out the call for recruits, I knew I had to join. Father didn’t want me to go, but my mother put me on the first freighter out to the alliance base. I trained up and got good. Ours was one of the last bases targeted by the empire, and when it fell I lost faith in the cause. That’s when I turned to bounty hunting, easy money with skills I already had.” 

The story rolled off your tongue so easily. You could see it happening in front of your eyes as you told it, living it vicariously as you formed the story. It was believable enough, no weirder than any of the other young recruit stories you’ve heard in bars over the years. 

You remembered one girl who told you she’d grown up Tatooine and joined the rebel alliance after she saw a Jedi do a mind trick on some storm troopers, you were pretty sure she was lying but she was cute and talking to you so you didn’t really care.

“That’s one hell of a story, how often does that work?” He sounded almost impressed under that helmet. You stopped walking and just stared at him, eyebrow raised.  He stopped a fraction of a second after you did, pivoting slightly to face you.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“I mean, how often does that lie work.” He questioned. You imagined he was smirking under there, even if his steady and blunt tone gave nothing away.

“They work as often as I want them to, it isn’t just that one, that one I made up just now,” you remarked.

“That’s impressive,” The Mandalorian nodded at you, “How many of those do you have.” You really are confused now, why does he keep asking, or stating you should say, questions?

“A few, there’s the one about coming from a family of bounty hunters, the one about breaking away from a wealthy family to ‘find myself’ and my personal favourite, I joined a spice smuggling ring after I lost my parents, toughened up and learnt to fight and fly while running in those people, then got out to become a bounty hunter,” You smiled at him, then continued walking, resuming following the virtual path in front of you. 

Those are all stories you had come up with on your long flights to and from various quarry’s, being alone gave you plenty of time to get creative with them, letting yourself fill their shoes and live their lives. You prided yourself on your imagination, being a good liar required it; in fact it was the only thing being a good liar required. You remember talking to an old bounty hunter friend of yours who told you “You’re an imaginative liar with a death wish, and I honestly think that makes you one of the most dangerous people in the galaxy.” To this day you think it’s one of the nicest compliments you’ve ever had.

You’d been so wrapped up in the conversation and your own thoughts you hadn’t even noticed the change of scenery. The open fields you’d been walking in had morphed into a forest, the glaring sun finally shielded away from you by a thick canopy of marmalade leaves. 

The vibrant grass had shifted shades to a burnt umber and flowers that had littered the floor now confined themselves to pockets where the light consistently filtered through the foliage above. You took a deep breath, the air felt heavier under here, a nice weight that you welcomed. You relished in the smell of damp moss and wildflowers. If only the whole planet was made up of this, you thought, then maybe you wouldn’t hate it so much. You relaxed slightly. No immediate danger was showing up on your eyepiece and as far as you could tell you and Tin Can had been making good progress, so far so good then. You were however once again aware of him staring you. Rolling your eyes you glanced over at him.

“What?” You remarked, furrowing your brows.

“Is Shiryn your real name?” He inquired. There was standoffishness in his voice, as if he thought he shouldn’t ask you such a question. I mean who was he to question your name when you didn’t have any idea of his. You regarded him a second, wandering what he was thinking underneath that cold metal exterior, wandering what you should tell him. Names are a tricky business, they hold power in them, and it’s why you gave yours up after all.

“Yes,” You answered simply.

He nodded to himself and looked back ahead, as if something had just been confirmed to him. A pregnant pause fell between you, like he was waiting, daring himself to say something.

“You’re one hell of a liar,” He finally complimented. You smiled at that, a small genuine smile that hadn’t been seen by many. This was a new expression on you; it extended to your eyes, nose crinkling slightly. And this time you didn’t try to correct yourself back to your default guarded countenance, you let genuine expression beam out into the world for the first time in a long while. 

“And you talk too much.”

Next Chapter

[bigdrchief]

I... Am Cape Kuroto Dan - Enter the Next World (Worm/Kamen Rider)

The multiverse was a place full of life and wonder, each universe holding their own defenders of justice.

A world of pirates who fight against an evil empire.

A world of warriors who fight in an everlasting mirror world.

A world of magicians who use the power of courage.

A world of doctors and games fighting against the Bugster virus.

That last world sounds interesting, doesn't it? Not exactly a common combination, doctors and games, but there are certainly connections between them.

In that world, there existed a mad genius who created a game capable of changing the world, for the purposes of showcasing his own genius. He would fight against the "protagonists" to create a game capable of granting immortality, and would soon form a alliance with them to prevent his father from destroying any chances of stopping the Bugster virus (and in turn his game). After these events, the mad genius would continue his work, eventually succeeding in his goal of a game capable of resurrecting the fallen, but would soon finally face his end. A dangerous and insane foe, comparable to a cockroach in a mech suit, he is an enigma in its most chaotic form.

For a while, it was presumed that this mad man had finally died, no more continues left for the so-called god. But as he has shown time and time again, he will continue appearing in worlds using as many 'continues' as needed for the sake of his goals.

Of course, all of this did not matter for the inactive Vassal Manager, a Shard that used to work for Eden but was now waiting for a potential candidate to connect to. Its mastery over hard-light projections, in human terms, was what gave the Entities their forms that they would use when interacting with civilizations. With Eden currently offline, however, the Shard was left to its own devices, forced to wait for somebody to meet its requirements in order to connect once more to the Shard Network.

While currently calculating the best type of 'power' to distribute, it felt something poking and prodding at its network ports. It was clearly attempting to hack into its interface, which while somewhat surprising, would ultimately prove to be a futile gesture.

To the Shard's alarm, however, as it attempted to deconstruct the invader, it soon quickly spread across the various connections it had. No matter what guards the Shard placed, the virus was somehow able to circumvent it.

The Shard began to panic as it attempted to preserve its data in a last resort, only for the virus to begin quickly consuming it just as quickly, corrupting anything it came across. Its functions fading fast, the Shard was unable to put up a resistance against the virus, and slowly felt itself succumbing to it.

The last thought the Shard had before it fully degraded was not one it would normally think, but was indeed a result of the virus that had infected it. Those two words?

GAME OVER

*Line Skip*

5 weeks later...

The Merchants were currently on the run from the Heroes, having successfully made it off with various bags of money, most likely to use to buy some drugs (AGAIN)!

Armsmaster was gaining some leeway on the group, but Skidmark had decided to be a colossal dick and had Squealer configure a bunch of auto-turrets of sorts on their getaway vehicle, which was currently firing multiple rounds that Armsmaster was forced to dodge and serve through.

Skidmark grinned as he quickly rifled through the cash he had gathered, already calculating the amount of drugs he intends on buying and then selling to the poor sops of the city. WIth this much cash, they could probably make triple the amount of money then the usual amount they scam off of the losers of Brockton Bay. At this rate, they'll be rich in no time!

Armsmaster brings out his halberd, and attempts to fire a grappling hook at them, possibly in some sort of attempt to try and slow them down, but Skidmark quickly redirects it to a nearby lamp post, causing it to latch onto the steel pole and forcing Armsmaster to slow down temporarily in order to quickly unattach the hook.

Skidmark grinned viciously at this clear victory, and turned to count the money once more. Had he paid a bit more attention, he would have noticed Armsmaster radioing in information, presumably to other Protectorate Heroes. For now, however, he was more focused on how to make use of his money to profit.

It was quite unfortunate then, that something proceeded to slam into the car, causing it to stop much to Skidmark's irritation.

"What the fuck, Squealer?! Why the fuck aren't we moving!?"

"I-I don't know, so shut up and let me fucking fix this!" Squealer yelled out in anger as she pressed the gas pedal in an attempt to make it move to no avail.

Already aggravated at how this clear chance of victory was cut short, Skidmark imploded when he heard somebody chuckling at their misfortune. Jumping out of the vehicle, gun in hand, he growled as he quickly surveyed the area.

"Who the fuck is laughing at us!?" he yells out. "Come on out you little shit! Or are you too chicken and would rather cry to your mommy?!"

He let out a vicious grin when the perpetrator finally revealed themselves, appearing from a nearby alleyway.

It was some guy in cosplay, wearing some sort of purple and black suit with white highlights and white leg armor. The person wore purple shoes and purple shoulder pads, alongside purple cuffs, and some weird green machine thingie on their waist with a purple object inserted in it. On their chest was some weird armor, with four colored buttons on the left side of the armor and some sort of gauge on the left. The helmet was the weirdest part, however, as it had some spiky black hair and a weird white-edge visor with red cartoon eyes printed on it.

Skidmark and his fellow Merchants laughed at the fool. If this person was a Cape, they sure were a horrendous one! Who even wears something like that anyway?

"-HAHAHAHAHA! I can't believe you're wearing something that shitty-looking!" Skidmark said, pointing his gun at the figure. "So how about you go and die or something and let the big boys work, huh?"

Skidmark fired, then grunted when the bullet barely grazed the armor. Of course it couldn't be that easy, could it? The Parahuman was clearly a Tinker of sorts. Whatever, they could still take the asshat down.

As his men prepared his weapons (and Squealer finally getting the car to work again), the Cape finally spoke up.

"It appears that the beta testing has started." he spoke calmly, but with this bizarre tenseness mixed with an underlying chaotic energy that just screamed danger to Skidmark. Unfortunately, he makes love with drugs, and so he grabbed the mental warning sign and threw it at the Cape in rage and confusion.

"What the fuck are you talking about!?"

"I'm saying that pests like you aren't even worth the full use of my capabilities." the Cape continued, raising his hands in a grandiose manner. "Your sole purpose is to help with the calibration of this vessel, to ensure that it is functioning properly for use in this backwards planet."

"I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about." Skidmark flatly replied.

"You needn't need to remember. Once I'm done with you, the only thing you'll need to remember is your crushing defeat at my hands, Genm's hands." Genm said arrogantly.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER!!" Skidmark exploded, his fragile pride unable to handle Genm's remarks, and throwing his gun at the Cape in rage, he used his power to overlay multiple layers on the gun, causing it to slam into the Cape at in intense speed, letting out a small explosion due to the few bullets still remaining inside. To his ever-growing frustration, Genm remained unharmed by the attack.

"HAHAHAHA!" he laughed at Skidmark's efforts. "Was that all you could do? I think it's time that I show you how a real CEO does it. I can easily crush you all, even if I have to use continues!"

Quickly rushing towards the group, Skidmark's underlings quickly fired onto the Cape, the bullets failing to slow him down. Genm quickly ran up to the group of goons and smash his fist into one of the goon's faces, slamming the poor fellow into the ground before quickly roundhouse kicking another goon. Genm then threw a few punches at a goon stupid enough to attempt to bash their gun on Genm, before swinging said goon around and throwing them into the crowd.

As the vehicle's engine purred, Genm turned towards the capes before raising his hand up.

"G̵̖̩̳͊̀̊A̷̻͊Ş̶̙̔̏̐̋̈̍͝Ȟ̵̢̜̙̪͈̯̓̓̄Á̷̝͇͉͙͎̈́Ć̸̦̾O̶̧̘͛͋̔͗N̴̘̝̳̜̖̼̦̅̈͠ ̷̢̣̯͓͊̓͌̽͐͘S̵̗̒͒W̶̛͓͇̳̰̍̈́̋͛̑Ó̸̹͉͇̪͔̑͐͊͜Ŕ̸̤̼̲̾͂̈̉͌̀ͅD̷̫̜͛̀̐̆̂̍͘!̴̨̗̖̩̟͊͌̓̽̚"

A distorted voice resounded in the area as dark violet pixels manifested around Genm's hand, before dispersing to reveal a simple sword with a silver hilt, a blue crossguard with a red A button and blue B button, and a red flaming serrated blade.

As Genm approached the Capes, Mush finally decided to intervene, using the various rubble that make up his body and flinging them towards the Cape, Skidmark enhancing the projectiles and causing them to move at speeds fast enough to be set on fire towards Genm. Genm simply swung the sword side to side, easily destroying the rubble that was flung at him.

Realizing that maybe this was a waste of time, Skidmark quickly jumped back into the vehicle and yelled at Squealer. "Step on it, ya bitch! Hurry up!"

"I'm fucking doing that assshole!" Squealer replied.

"Ko Chīn!"

However, just as the vehicle began backing up, the vehicle just as quickly stopped. As a confused Squealer tries the pedal once more, Skidmark looks over the car and sees to his shock ice had formed on the car's wheels, slowly inching upward like a caterpillar on a plant. Looking back at the cape, he saw the armored Tinker had stabbed the now cyan colored sword into the ground, freezing the area.

As the figure walked towards them, Skidmark grabbed a nearby machine gun that was stashed in the car earlier, and in a fit of desperation began firing the bullets at the Cape, using his power to enhance the power of the bullets. The bullets merely grazed the figure, and as the Cape began sprinting towards him, for a second Skidmark feared that he may have misjudged his victory.

A truck suddenly slammed into the figure from the side, slamming the Cape into a nearby building. Acting instinctively, Skidmark used his powers on the vehicle, enhancing its velocity enough that when it slammed into the nearby wall, it exploded. As the fire slowly receded, Skidmark saw Mush slowly moving away from a nearby parking lot, and quickly deduced him to be the cause of the vehicle crash.

"...Hahaha, serves that bitch right! Did he really think he could stand up against us!?"

Skidmark let out a definitely not nervous laughter as he looked over the wreckage, seeing no sign of the Cape moving. A pity, it seems like they killed the Tinker. Then again, if he had died from a mere explosion, than would he have been a good asset to them.

"Merchants. Cease and desist immediately."

Skidmark turned around, and growled when he the miltary hero pointing a gatling gun at him. Miss Militia, a Cape that Skidmark never really liked. If she was here, than the other Protectorate Capes would not be too far off.

"*Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep*"

"Come on Squealer!" he barked to the Tinker. "Hurry the fuck up and get us out of here!"

"*Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep*"

Squealer quickly nodded, but paused to Skidmark's confusion.

"*Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep*"

"Squealer, what the fuck are you doing!?" Skidmark yelled, only to freeze when he began hearing the noise she had.

"*Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep*"

Suddenly, a purple warp pipe with the word "CONTINUE" in rainbow colors appeared from the ground, and from it ascended to the Capes shock Genm, unharmed and untouched by the explosion earlier.

"*Doot-doodoo-doot-doodoot!*"

A small jingle played as the Tinker slowly stepped out of the pipe and onto the ground, cracking his neck as he stared at Skidmark. At that moment, he was pretty sure that were it not for the mask, he would've seen the stupid ass Cape smirking at his confusion.

"What the-!? How the fuck did you survive!? You were fucking blown up, you piece of shit!?!?" Skidmark yelled in confusion.

Genm simply shook his head as he removed the strange purple device from the green machine attacked on his waist, the machine letting out a "Gashun!" as a holographic indicator appeared beside the Tinker, displaying the words "GENM Life Points" and a red heart with the number 99 inside it.

"As I said, you are merely the beta test to my vessal's abilities. And one of those abilities includes the ability to 'respawn' after death." he explained pointing a finger up, as the number went down to 98. "You've managed to kill 1 of just 99 lives, which is definitely impressive for scum like you."

"Ni-Ninety-nine!?" Skidmark said in shock.

"Didn't you hear me earlier?" Genm remarked as he began spinning the violet device around. "I'll clear this game, even if I have to use continues!" He then proceeded to slam the device into some sort of holster on his right side before pressing a button.

"Kimewaza! MIGHTY CRITICAL STRIKE!"

Purple and blue energy slowly began to form around Genm's right leg as he slowly walked towards the dazed Merchants, the walk slowly turning into a dash as the Cape ran towards the Merchants. In a panic, Skidmark attempts to jump ship, quickly exiting the vehicle, but at that point it was too late. Genm threw a roundhouse kick at the vehicle, striking at the engine and causing the entire vehicle to explore in an orange glitchy fiery explosion. The various drugged Capes flung across the floor, shrapnel flying and striking them in their limbs, giving them wounds and intense pains throughout their bodies, while Genm simply stood there unharmed.

Smoke eventually filled the area, and Miss Militia whom had been watching the whole thing in shock, quickly comes onto the scene in an attempt to reach the new Cape that had devastated the Merchants. However, once the smoke faded away, the purple Tinker was gone, no trace of him ever being here except for the damage he had done to the Merchants.

As fellow Cape Armsmaster soon arrived on the scene, Miss Militia walked towards the wreckage of the truck to examine the area, most of the flames having now died out.

As she walked closer to the area, she noticed something poking out of the wreckage of the area. Morphing her weapon into a shovel, she used it to move away the rubble out, to reveal a charred body in the wreckage. Standing down next to it, there were no signs of there being any sort of modifications to the body, or of any sort of symptoms indicative of illnesses, so it was likely that the body was not trapped. Said body resembled a 30-year old Japanese man with a basic grey suit with a violet undershirt and black jeans with black dress shoes, the fire scarring most of his face.

While normally one would have marked this individual as dead, considering the Cape's remarks earlier, it was possible that he possessed some sort of Breaker like Alabaster with the ability to 'revive' himself a set amount of times, though this was merely speculation on her part.

"Report Miss Militia?" Armsmaster asked, having finished tying up the downed Merchants and currently waiting for the PRT Vans to arrive.

"A new Cape dubbed Genm had entered a scene, wearing some sort of violet armor." Miss Militia explained. "I've given him both a Tinker rating and a Breaker rating due to his ability to seemingly create a new body upon death, which the Parahuman has claimed to only occur a limited amount of times."

"Hmm... Any other possible information?"

"Yes, assuming this claim to be accurate," she continued as she pointed towards the wreckage, "then this body may possibly be indicative of his true appearance, though that's assuming any new body his power makes is a exact duplicate like in the case of Oni Lee. If this claim is true, then this may be troubling. While I am unsure of the Cape's standing, he possesses Tinkertech capable of altering the landscape and of knocking Parahumans unconscious with ease without needing to fatally damage them."

"Very well, I'll take this into consideration." Armsmaster said as he looked over the scene. As he did, he could not help but wonder as to what kind of genius would have been gifted with a Power such that they could not only create effective armor while evading capture for so long, if they were new, but with an ability to come back from the dead a set amount of times?

The mad genius grinned as his computer displayed the fine handiwork his Critical Strike had done to the Merchants, the Bugster virus slowly prorogating throughout their body.

A fitting end for such scum was the thought that ran through his head, though fortunately for them he had no intention of letting those Merchants die.

No, with his specialized 'finisher', the virus should reach a point in the near future where eventually the Bugsters will manifest from the bodies, which he can then use as test subjects to test his newly developed Gashats on.

Already, he had determined a candidate that he could have use the particular Gashat he was working on, "Beastmon GO". He grinned as he saw that his plan was coming to fruition.

This world, this Earth Bet... It was clear that without geniuses like him, the world has in a sense regressed to an era of strife and conflict, and that these Shards that fueled their powers have merely further enhanced the chaos of this world.

These so-called villains running amok, these so-called heroes failing in their duties to protect the people, it was clear that the planet needed a wake-up call.

Were he like any other Kamen Rider, then his main reason for doing this would be because its the right thing to do. Unfortunately, that wasn't it at all.

His only reason for helping this world was very simple really.

"As the one that will herald a new era," he said to himself, a constant reminder of his new quest. "I shall soon bring forth a new age of life, one that must be unhindered by these low-level players incapable of seeing the bigger picture. Once I rid this world of its filth, I can truly revolutionize it into a new era! That is the path chosen by I, DAN KUROTO"

[kingdomheartsloversstuff]

Yea if you hadn’t noticed I am on a roll again. Hope you guys like it!

It was a great relief to the crew when the Ghost safely landed back on Lothal. Despite the Empire’s ever growing presence on the planet, there was still a feeling of safety and security the planet offered. This place was home, giving the crew a sense of peace when on the planet. They were not truly any safer here than anywhere else, but there was just something about the familiarity of the planet that put everyone at ease. At least it usually did. Nothing could bring Garazeb Orrelios peace. Not while the Empire was still at large. 

Not with the knowledge of his husband's death weighing heavily on his mind. 

Why hadn’t he listened to Kanan? Why had he let himself get his hopes up that Alex was alive? Why hadn’t he thought to look sooner?

Despite everything they said, deep down Zeb knew Alex’s death was his fault. If he had thought to look sooner they might have found him before he died. Might have saved him from a slow, agonizing death, alone and terrified in the claws of the Empire. Nothing anyone said would change that fact. 

He was a complete and utter failure as a king, but he could at least make the Empire suffer for what they had done and everything they would certainly do. And he couldn’t do that while moping in his room. Lasat’s were warriors, so he would fight, fight to ensure no one forgot Lasan, fight to protect anyone else from suffering the safe fate, fight to earn his place by Alex’s side when the time came, fight to make the Empire pay. 

They would pay. 

With a growl, Zeb got to his feet, body keyed up, ready to fight every buckethead he ran into. He needed to feel the crumble of their armor between his hands, to hear their terrified screams as he tore through their armies. It was poetic justice really, their screams would perfectly mirror the screams of his people.

“Hey buddy,” Kanan greeted as Zeb stepped out of his room, Zeb though was not in the mood for small talk. 

“What’s the mission?” Zeb asked. 

“Hera is with Fulcrum right now,” Kanan said. “I think there's something Sabine wants to show you though.” He added, trying and failing to hide an eager smile. 

“Show me?” Zeb asked, the anger temporarily draining out of him. What could she possibly want to show him? 

“It’s kind of a present for you,” Kanan explained. “Come on let me show you.” 

“Uh okay….” Zeb said, curiosity piqued as Kanan led him towards Kanan’s room. What could Sabine have in Kanan’s room for him? 

“Hey Sabine, are you ready?” Kanan said, poking his head inside the room.

“Almost….” Sabine slowly said from inside. “Is Zeb with you?” “I’m here Bean,” Zeb said. 

“Okay….okay,” Sabine said, nervousness clear as day in her voice. She’d never been so scared to show him something, not since- “Okay it’s ready!” Zeb could smell her fear, rolling off in waves, threatening to completely swallow her whole. Not even that piece had her so nervous. What could this possibly be? 

Stepping inside, Zeb’s eyes first landed on Sabine, who was looking anywhere but Zeb as she gestured to the wall almost frantically saying, 

“Kanan let me paint something in here and this just kind of….happened. I wasn’t planning on this but the idea got into my head and I couldn’t stop myself-” Sabine was still rambling, but Zeb’s eyes were drawn to the piece. The first thing that caught his eye was that in the center he was standing there, one arm wrapped around a beaming Sabine’s shoulders. Next to her stood Kanan and Hera, arms wrapped around each other's waists. In front of Zeb stood Ezra, awkwardly grinning Chopper beside him, mechanical arms in the air. And behind Chopper stood- 

Zeb’s blood turned to ice as he processed who was standing behind Chopper and Ezra. Alex. 

Alex was in this painting, standing with his arm around Zeb, tenderly looking up at him with a smile just meant for him, Zeb smiling down at him with adoration in his eyes. It was a masterfully painted piece. 

It was the most vile thing Zeb had ever laid his eyes on. 

“What….is….this?” Zeb slowly growled, trying, and failing, to keep his growing rage in check.

“I just…I’m not really sure how it happened but Alex was your family so he’s kind of our family so I wanted to make sure a piece of him was with-”

“And you thought this was okay?” Zeb roared, turning to face Sabine who stumbled back in shock. 

“Hey!” Kanan snapped, face twisted in rage. “She made this for you! She was trying to-” “I don’t care what she was trying to do!” Zeb snapped. “Alex is gone! He never was and never will be able to be a part of our family! What kind of sick joke is this?”

“I-it wasn’t supposed to be a joke,” Sabine whispered, tears in her eyes. Under normal circumstances, he might have felt bad for hurting her feelings. But these were not normal circumstances and he would not let her think anything about this was even remotely okay. “I just- I didn’t think I just painted-” “Yea, you weren't thinking!” Zeb roared, “Because if you were you would know this is sick and-” “She was trying to show that even though he never could be a part of our family he is because of you,” Kanan snapped. “She wanted to do something nice for you and this is how you thank her?” “You call this nice?” Zeb growled, pointing at the offending piece. “Get rid of it!” 

“What-” Sabine gasped, eyes wide in shock. 

“She doesn’t-” “I said get rid of it!” Zeb roared, raising a hand to claw through the piece.

“NO!” Kanan cried, throwing his hands out, freezing him in place with the force before showing him back with all of his strength, Zeb hitting the back wall with enough force to knock the breath out of his lungs, Zeb desperately trying to catch his breath as he collapsed to the ground. Covering her mouth in a pointless attempt to hide her sobs, Sabine ran out of the room, past a startled Hera who cried out, 

“Sabine!” 

“What the hell?” Kanan snarled, glaring down at Zeb who was slowly getting back to his feet with shaking limbs. “What is wrong with you?” “What happened in here?” Hers sternly asked, walking over to stand beside Kanan, glaring daggers at Zeb. 

“Oh sure, take his side huh?” Zeb growled, leaning heavily against the wall, Kanan shifting his stance to keep himself firmly between Zeb and Sabine’s piece. 

“All I know is Sabine is crying and you were yelling at her.,” Hera said, “So talk. What. Happened.” “That,” Zeb spat, pointing at the painting, “Happened.” Confused, Hera turned to look at the piece, a small smile forming on her face as she took it in. How could she be smiling at it? “Sabine painted this?” Hera asked, turning to face Kanan. 

“She did,” Kanan proudly said. 

“You let her paint in your room?” Hera asked, confused. How was everyone missing the point?

“She was in a funk and needed some help getting out of it,” Kanan said with a shrug. 

“You should’ve left her in it,” Zeb growled, Hera sharply turning to look at him, stunned. “It’s disgusting.” Hera’s expression turned icy as she said, 

“You and I both know you don’t mean that-” “I do,” Zeb spat, getting in Hera’s personal space to glare at her, Hera not backing down or even wincing at the violation of her space. “It’s a vile insult-” “Our family is not an insult,” Hera sternly said. “You should be honored Sabine considered your husband, a man she never even met, as apart of this family-” “There is nothing honorable about that!” Zeb snarled. 

“Don’t even think about touching it,” Kanan dangerously said. 

“What?” Hera asked, looking at Zeb like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

“Zeb tried to destroy it,” Kanan said. 

“Garazeb Orrelios,” Hera sternly said, “If you touch that painting there will be consequences.” 

“You’re not my mother,” Zeb snapped. 

“No but this is my ship,” Hera said. “And you will respect it and its crew.” Zeb clenched his hands into fists, fury boiling his blood. How dare she talk about respect when Sabine refused to respect him! What right did she have to pretend she knew Alex or cared about him at all when she never even met him? 

“Go,” Hera snapped, leaving no room for argument. Zeb growled at Hera who continued to calmly look at him, Zeb storming out with an angry snarl, Kanan keeping himself planted firmly between Zeb and the piece, certain Zeb would still lash out at it. 

He was right to. If Kanan hadn’t been there he would have torn his claws through it, damned whatever Hera would do to him for it. That piece of bantha shit deserved it. Not even bothering to look back Zeb stomped out of Kanan’s room. Zeb forced himself to ignore the sound of Sabine’s crying coming from her now closed room and walked towards the cargo bay. he needed to get out of this suffocating ship-

“Hey!” Ezra snapped, running up to Zeb, trying to puff out his chest to make himself look more menacing then he ever was. The attempt only served to make the whole thing all the more laughable however. 

“What do you want?” Zeb snapped. 

“You made Sabine cry!” Ezra said, glaring up at him. “What’s that all about?”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” Zeb gruffly said, roughly shoving Ezra out of his way. 

“You guys are always talking about how you guys are family!” Ezra stubbornly said, running to keep up with him as he continued to walk off the ship. “Family doesn’t just make family cry-” “We are not a family,” Zeb snarled. “I don’t care what anyone else says, we never have and never will be a family!” Ezra starred up at Zeb in open mouthed shock. Good, he finally shut up. 

“That’s not true!” Or not. 

“You all may see yourselves as family but I know I’m the odd man out,” Zeb snapped. “I always have been and always will be. I know you guys only keep me around because you need some muscle and that’s fine. But don’t ever try and pretend I am anything but that because we both know that’s not true.” That finally seemed to completely shut Ezra up. With a scoff Zeb continued to walk down the ramp and off of the ship, ignoring the odd feeling in his chest as he remembered the sound of Sabine’s sobbing. 

He’d never hated a piece of her work before. Usually her work deserved all of the praise it got. She was a spectacular artist who he knew would go places. But she needed to grow thicker skin. Not all of her work would deserve praise and she needed to accept it when she was wrong and made something bad. 

She needed to learn people would criticize her work sometimes and she couldn’t go running off crying when that happened. Her crying wasn’t his fault or problem. She needed to learn this lesson even if she had to learn it the hard way. 

This was her fault, not his. They would come around eventually. 

---

This could not have gone more wrong. Kanan had thought giving Sabine a fresh start would help her out of her artistic funk. He had also thought Zeb seeing such a touching piece of Sabine trying to include pieces of Zeb into their family would help Zeb. But instead it had enraged Zeb to a point Kanan couldn’t even comprehend and left Sabine sobbing in her cabin, Kanan fearing she might never create again. 

“Any idea what that was all about?” Hera worriedly asked. 

“No clue,” Kanan admitted, looking up at Sabine’s work again. “I don’t understand why trying to bring Alex into the family would upset him so much…” Hera crossed her arms, a thoughtful expression on her face. 

“Maybe Zeb is just a little too raw right now,” Hera slowly said. “He has at this point in essence lost Alex twice now. That has to hurt.” 

“That doesn’t give him the right to-” Kanan began, anger swelling in his chest. “I am not saying what Zeb did was okay,” Hera firmly said. “I’m just trying to work through what went so wrong.” ”Right…” Kanan agreed, deflating at her words. “It just seems everything we do to try and make him feel more a part of this family only serves to drive a bigger wedge between us all…”

“I know…” Hera agreed. “We just need to give him some time.”

“We can’t just leave things like this!” Kanan exclaimed. Sabine was devastated, she might start destroying all of her beautiful work if they didn’t do something-

“Trying to talk to Zeb about this is probably only going to result in another fight,” Hera soothingly said. “We should talk to Sabine but Zeb needs to cool off.”

“Should we leave him for the mission?”

“Ordinarily I’d say yes,” Hera slowly said. “But we unfortunately do need him. We’re moving some heavy cargo for this mission and we need all the muscle we can get.”

“This is a bad idea…” Kanan grumbled. 

“Maybe.” Hera agreed. 

“Fulcrum should find someone else to do it.” 

“We can’t,” Hera firmly said. “Intel suggests the Empire is moving new weapons through Lothal, we’re the closest crew.” 

“When is this happening?” Kanan asked. 

“Today,” Hera said. 

“Do we have enough time to prep?” Kanan asked. 

“Fulcrum had a plan actually,” Ahsoka said. 

“Fulcrum doesn’t know our crew like we do,” Kanan grumbled. 

“No but they have solid intel on what this will entail.”

“I don’t like this….”

“Will you at least hear the plan out?” Hera asked. 

“I think we need to talk to Sabine first and make sure she’s okay,” Kanan said. 

“Agreed,” Hera said, a frown on her face. Without another word Kanan walked towards Sabine’s room where he could still hear her muffled cries. Knocking on the door, Kanan asked, 

“Sabine? Can we talk?”

“Leave me alone,” Sabine said with a sniffle. “I think we need to talk,” Kanan said. “Zeb should not have said those things-” “But he’s right!” Sabine said, opening the door, eyes still watery, clutching her sketchbook in his hands, torn pages littering the ground around her. “I wasn’t thinking about how he would feel about it-” “You did not do anything wrong,” Kanan firmly said, placing his hands on her shoulders. “You made a beautiful piece of art for a friend and he treated you horribly for it.”

“My art hurt him-” “That is not your fault,” Kanan firmly said. “You do not need to feel bad for making such gorgeous art-” “I should have asked before painting Alex,” Sabine whispered. 

“You shouldn’t have to ask to paint something,” Kanan firmly said. “Anyone who tries to say otherwise is wrong.”

“Zeb-” “Is being a dick,” Kanan said. 

“Bu-” “His trauma does not excuse his actions.” Kaan said. “He’s hurting yes but he has no right to take his rightful pain out on you. The Empire has done unforgivable things to billions of lives, including Lasan, right now Zeb is taking that pain out on the wrong people.”

“...what…what should we do?”

“All we can do is support him and put him back in line if he goes too far like he did just now.” Kanan said. 

“....Should I get rid of-” “No,” Kanan firmly said. “Not yet at least.”

“What do you mean?” “If after he cools off the painting stuff hurts too much-”

“I’ll get rid of it!” Sabine swore. “Whatever Zeb needs I’ll do it.”

“I know,” Kanan assured. “But please don’t do anything right now when emotions are running high.” 

“...alright,” Sabine sighed, setting her sketchbook aside. 

“Good.” Kanan said, “Now come on, we have a mission to prep for.” 

“A mission?” Sabine curiously asked, following Kanan out of her room back to the galley where Hera was already waiting with Chopper. 

“Where-”

“Zeb ran off,” Ezra exclaimed, joining the group.

“Let him,” Hera said. “We’ll get him later, for now we need to go over the plan.”

[smolbeandrabbles]

I Think He Knows - Orson Krennic x Reader 1 (Rogue One)

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the request dearest Anon! This was a lot of fun, and I got to come at the relationship from a different perspective. I genuinely... LOVE writing him like this.

This also includes the original ending to Gratitude that I lost and subsequently found in my notebook... And fits in well here! 😊 (But is not the end!)

Disclaimer: Star Wars Characters not mine / Plot is request / I own nothing! / Slight AU  Premise (As Requested By Anon ❤ ): I have been thinking a lot about an au with a ofc who is outranking Krennic and at first he kinda hates her, but with time he seems to notice the way she looks at him, secretly helps him. And when he accidentally finds that she was trying to promote him, he’s confused and come to her for answers There might be a slight change on the ending you wanted... But I hope you enjoy anyway 😘😘😘💜💙  Words: 5676 Warnings: N/A... Some mild swearing / drinking

__________

I think he knows his hands around A cold glass Make me wanna know that body Like it's mine He got that boyish look that I like in a man I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans He's so obsessed with me, and boy I understand Boy I understand ...Got that, oh! I mean Wanna see what's under that attitude Like, I want you, bless my soul And I ain't gotta tell him I think he knows I think he knows So where we gonna go? I whisper in the dark Where we gonna go? I think he knows

--- You knew exactly who Orson Callan Krennic was. You’d known all about him since the Futures Programme. Not because you were anywhere near in the same year or class, although, technically you studied the same thing… But because he seemed to show up every so often and flaunt how brilliant he was. Now, you knew the ranking system, so every time you saw him you wondered who exactly he thought he was, and why he’d talk so loud if he was at least as far down the order as he looked. Luckily, you didn’t see him often – but when you’d graduated you’d started working in the same field. Mercifully you didn’t have to work with him, he outranked you and was off in far flung exclusive corners of the galaxy you weren’t going to reach in a hurry, working on projects that at the time you could only dream of being a part of. Only, you didn’t cause problems. You were quiet, you got on with your job and you did it exceptionally well. That earned attention, and luckily the right attention. Because you’d also noticed that every time you heard whispers of Krennic’s name around here it was usually said with distain, and accompanied with all the Galaxy’s gossip about what he was doing to piss someone off this time. The harder you worked, and the more experience you gained – the more niche your skills got, you found yourself becoming indispensable to the Empire. That knowledge swept through your division pretty quick, and soon enough you were stretched to (almost) capacity working on things. People were desperate to have your name attached to anything they could – and now you were a centre of attention that people would back-stab each other to gain on their work. You were careful about that too, and allocated yourself as professionally as possible.   What did all this mean for you? Your rank increased, and kept increasing. And suddenly you were sitting in rooms you weren’t supposed to take information out of. That you weren’t even allowed to take equipment into the projects discussed were so secret. In fact – once you passed from one rank into the next you almost stopped hearing Krennic’s name altogether. Because when you walked into a room people stopped talking rumour; just incase you passed it on and they lost their jobs. At first you missed that, but realised quickly that you’d hear it anyway… only now directly from the source. You were almost free to forget about the man entirely. And the first time you ever had to have face-to-face contact with him, in all those years, came as a shock to you. You were sipping coffee in the elevator to your next meeting about another start up project that this time you were expected to head. No problems, you’d lead projects before and you would be trusted to do so with accuracy and efficiency. This one might be a little bigger, but you were confident you could deliver exactly as you were known for. Your assistant was running through the list of assignees to the team and suddenly you found yourself trying not to spit coffee all over the elevator floor; “Sorry, who!?” “Commander Orson Krennic… He’s uh, architecture, intelligence…” “Oh, I know who he is… Did you say Commander?” “Uh, yes. Th- That’s what it says…” He didn’t like the sudden broad smirk that crossed your face as you tried not to look at your own rank bar. You outranked him. You got to walk into a room and look at him and slam your folder down on a table and tell Orson Krennic what to do? Perfect! He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Sure, Krennic had never met you. But he never forgot a face – and when they introduced the project lead he had to check twice. Because this surely wasn’t happening. He remembered you from the Futures Programme. Maybe you’d been in one or two of the lectures he gave; but you always sat with your arms crossed, looking at him like you didn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth. (That or downright bored; leaning on your hands the way that you did). And now you outranked him!? Outranked him and were about to order him around on this particular project, of all things? He was looking forward to this one before you’d walked into the room with your rank bar displayed like that. Stars, what did I do to deserve THIS-!?  You spotted Krennic straight away, staring at you with absolute distain. That just made you smirk more; you simply couldn’t help yourself. Seems like someone remembers me calling bullsh*t on all the pretentious nonsense he used to tell us in class. And he didn’t even lecture me all that much. You laughed to yourself, stepping up to give the project presentation, you were the only one in the room briefed, so this whole thing rested on you. You could take the pressure, and you were about to enjoy every second of this! Your eyes flicked to his and you simply had to wink; Payback’s a bitch, Orson Krennic. *** He couldn’t think of anything worse. For the most part, in truth, you left him alone to do what you knew he was best at. But you also kept him on a tight schedule, and it didn’t give him nearly enough time to go sneaking around trying to undermine you. (Apparently something you’d caught onto pretty quick that he liked attempting to do. God bless your colleagues for alerting you to this). You liked knowing what he was doing and where he was going (for you’d left him in charge of a pretty good chunk of the sourcing too), on the hour by the hour. Which was good for you, just in case he got the idea you weren’t watching him incredibly closely. But Krennic hated it (though, he hated it anyway) because every chance you got your sweep out of your office and loudly call him into it. Probably to remind him that he didn’t have his own. Probably also to let everyone know you needed to speak with him again. “KRENNIC! A word-!” Orson shot you a look; absolutely not. He was in the middle of a very important calculation, and if he messed it up, or left it, he’d never get back to it. You could damn well wait. Though, you didn’t like waiting, and when you came out of your office 5 minutes later to find him sitting in exactly the same position he was in before, you sighed; “Krennic! SOME time today!” He slammed his stylus down and his turn to you was quick; “I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME!” Then immediately regretted it when the floor fell silent, and the look on your face told him that, as usual, every jab you made was to get a rise out of him. And it wasn’t often you weren’t successful. He sighed angrily and was forced to concede, feeling his face burning in the moment – he couldn’t tell quite yet whether in rage or embarrassment; “Can I just finish this?” Your eyes narrowed, and your face was almost stern as you folded your arms, “If you’d had said that five minutes ago, I’d have said yes. Not now, get in here.” Krennic stood, and his footfall into your office let you know how mad he was. “I need you to take care of something for me.” Krennic wanted to get argumentative, more than anything – he’d love to have a one on one screaming match at you if that’s what it took. But the more leash you’d give him the better. So he held his tongue. No matter though, it showed clear enough on his face; “Yes?” “You’re from Lexrul, right?” “Yes.” What would this have to do with his home world? “Good – I need to source something from a respectable trader, only my informants indicate that he pretty much won’t speak to anyone who isn’t from his home planet.” Ah, so she needs me. “He’s from Lexrul?” “Correct.” “...I suppose I can do that, if you give me the contact.” “Well, I’d like to be there.” He sighed internally – not enough of a leash, it seemed. “…So it’s set?” “Thursday, yes.” “Then I would be happy to help.” “Good. Kept those figures in your head?” He hesitated for a minute “Excuse me?” “From your calculation…” “Oh. Yes.” “Good, then I was quick enough – get back to it, I don’t want you to forget them… OH! And Krennic!” He turned before he left, “Yes?” “Your work so far has been incredible. Keep it up.” “…Thank… you?” He stepped back out of your office and then scoffed, yeah right… If she thinks she can kill me with kindness she’s got another thing coming… ** Work continued like this for the entirety of the project. And it only served to get worse. Every time you would put Krennic on something that sounded exciting – or might give him that little bit of power - you’d pull him from something else. Or you’d only let him conduct this one meeting, or sit in on this one deal. He realised you were either keeping him from certain information, or making sure you didn’t have to grant him certain access. No matter what your reasoning was. He’d be glad to see the back of you once this was over. But there was something else about you also. That the only time you’d vocalised that you were impressed with him was that meeting. After that you’d kept silent, but your admiration for his work appeared to be from afar. Like you thought saying words would only cause further conflict. Orson would often look up from his work to see you watching him. And he was worried to find that it unnerved him. Not that you watched him; even with his ill feelings for you, it was your job to make sure he was doing his, but it was the way you watched him. Krennic noticed that at first you seemed to hide it with an inquisitiveness, he worked at the other end of your spectrum – your niche was in another silo of architecture altogether. It would make sense for you to be interested. But he noticed that you never asked him about it. And pretty soon he also noticed that you weren’t watching his work, but him. And it wasn’t with interest, or admiration. If he thought he could do anything about it, Orson Krennic knew he would. That using what he saw would give him power over you. He knew that look, he read that look so often in other people – wasn’t he after all also in the intelligence bureau? And this would be intelligence that he could use. You didn’t look at him like a man working on a part of your project. You looked at him like a man you were falling for. Like the man who would take you down with him if he could… *** 9 months later… The lift slid to a halt about 10 floors before he expected it to an he glared momentarily at the buttons. All he wanted was a nice quite ride alone, Thank You! It only got worse when the doors parted and you were standing on the other side of them. You flicked your eyes up and down him and didn’t even bother with a verbal greeting – he’d likely throw back a snide remark or get all grumpy about it anyway. You stepped in and swept around to the keys; only noticing that the floor you wanted was already pressed. Press something else! Press something else! PLEASE be going anywhere but this meeting!!! If Krennic could get it to happen by sheer will he would have – but you took a step away. NO! You were curious though; “Looks like we could be heading to the same project meeting, Commander.” You noticed his intake of breath, and how his body seemed to rise an inch as he straightened and tensed his shoulders. Oh, now you’d pissed him off by addressing him by rank. He also didn’t answer you, which only confirmed your thought, and it became the longest 10 floor ride of either of your lives. You turned to him as you stepped out of the elevator, and once again he saw that look cross your face the same one you’d left burned into his head after the last project, only now you’d learned to hide it well. It was fleeting. And he cursed himself for wishing he could look at it for longer. “Well, Krennic, I’ll see you in the briefing…” With that you swept into the crowd – no doubt to mingle with those of similar rank. He sighed, looking at the bright red strip of his own. One day, he thought to himself, one day I’ll outrank you… and then you’ll see. * The first strategic meeting was okay (The one where everyone with some kind of stakeholder interest in this was present, beyond the working members of the main team themselves), even though he noticed you were sat over there near the front, being lorded on by the higher ups. Not everyone here would be working on the project and Orson realised that, but still... Why he had to sit all the way back here whilst you got to live it up in direct eye-line of anyone important he felt was insulting. And he found himself glaring at your back for the majority of the presentation. Just you wait until you need me for a niche piece of architecture you can’t figure out on your own...  The first planning meeting, the one with all the real movers and shakers in it, was where it really heated up. Krennic was almost surprised to receive the invite; he expected hand-me-down information from you at a need to know only level from you at best. When he got to the meeting however, he realised why you’d likely wanted him present. He was among the lowest ranking. The only ones around his rank, or lower, were your assistant and the administration team taking the minutes. He also noticed the place holder names around the table put you directly opposite him. And he knew immediately you’d had a hand in that, even if it had meant swapping them around yourself. But the meeting was hell. If you wanted to embarrass him, to belittle him in a public forum, in front of not only his peers, but people he admired and wanted the admiration of then, by the Stars, had you managed to do that here. In fact at the end he felt so utterly defeated he almost slammed his datapad into your chest and spat his feelings bitterly; I want off this project. I can’t work with you. But that would be showing weakness, and proving you’d broken him. And Krennic couldn’t have that. And that feeling of spite (maybe you wanted him off. And he wouldn’t give in to anything you wanted) was the only thing that made him hang on to his role here. There were lots of points in the meeting, before you’d continually shot him down, that Krennic was happy to be here. Even excited, elated that someone would raise something particularly difficult that he could do. And he would (politely!) raise his arm; “I am more than capable of completing such a task. I would certainly be happy to take it on...” Before you’d come in and cut across; “Our team will take it. Though I am happy enough to put Krennic on my team, you can route the work through me and I can decide where it goes.” He hated you, and he’d never hated you more than right then. Because you knew, you knew, he could do it, you know how desperately he wanted to boost himself a rank and you knew he wanted to prove himself to this particular table. The only reason they even swivelled to you and nodded in agreement was because of your damn rank bar.  Without that, in this room, on this subject - that hasten to add, he was an expert on - you would be nothing. Krennic was writing books on this before you were even in the academy and now he had to submit his skills to you. ** There was a bitterness to this project. More so than the last one. And the tension was horiffic – you felt that in the air, and you had to be careful, one foot wrong and it would snap, and you’d be at all out war. Although, you tipped your head surveying him again and biting your lip, when weren’t you putting one foot wrong in his opinion? Krennic spent the project just about acknowledging what you asked him to do, but he gave you no move verbal communication than was absolutely necessary. If he could get away with yes or no then he would. And you hated to admit that it hurt. If he was giving up on snarky sparing matches with you (that you obviously enjoyed) then something was very wrong. You knew he wouldn’t be able to see what you were trying to do for him... but he wasn’t supposed to, you had to go about this correctly. Besides half of the meetings you’d asked him to sit in on for this particular project he wouldn’t be in without you; he had nowhere near the clearance level; and you were giving him that for free. You couldn’t let him simply go off on his own and do it. You needed someone to stare at the magnificent creation and ask you who did it; whose idea, can I work with... “Orson Krennic. Yes.” He’s great. But you knew what Krennic really thought; You wouldn’t let him have any freedom. You didn’t trust him. You’d crush his creativity. There had to be something you could do to show him that wasn’t your aim. After all, that would do neither of you any good...  “Orson?” You tried a different route this time, maybe it was gentler to address him by his first name. You knew that rank didn’t work already(!) “Yes...” Apparently not. “I just received the next part of the project.” “Yes?” “I need you to run lead on it.” “Which part?” “All of it.” He looked to you with slight annoyance in those blue eyes, disbelieving. “Who is in charge?” “You are. We’ll finish up here, you’re wasted on this bit.” You placed the drive on his desk that contained exactly what you needed from him; “Do what you do best. Book a meeting with Commander D’Omnynn; he can brief you.” “I assume you want in on this meeting?” You gave a shrug “No...” and stepped away; “This is all yours... just, keep me regularly updated. Okay?” You walked away without either of you uttering another word, and his eyes fell from your frame walking away from him to the drive sitting in front of him. There’s a catch. Where is the catch? He picked it up. What if there wasn’t one this time? Then that left Krennic with one question. Why? *** Krennic worked so hard. So, so, so hard. And you got to watch this from afar with a smile. And hoped he wouldn’t see it. And it was incredible, the amount of files you got back with; This is excellent! Who is working this? or comments about work they’d seen your project, where you got to give a smile “Oh, that would be Krennic...” And more than once it raised surprised eyebrows that you were happy to see proven wrong. So, by the end of the project cycle he was practically running half of it. And Orson seemed a lot more confident; and on occasion he even wore a smile.   That meant he was present at the end of project drinks reception... but you were surprised to find him standing alone, sipping from a whisky glass. “Impeccable work, Orson.” He never turned that smile on you, not once. But he couldn’t help doing so at that. And that made you happier than you had been at the outcome of the project. Finally, he might trust you enough to give you his smile. “I suppose, without getting the opportunity to project lead...” “Say nothing of it. I knew you would be the right man for the job...” His face clearly read confused; Either she’s already drunk… or she wants something else… “Surprising really that you didn’t have me on a tighter leash the whole time.” “Why would you say that?” You were curious as to his reasoning. Orson gave a nonchalant shrug; “Oh, well...” he breathed, “you like it don’t you. Lording that rank bar of yours over me.” Part of you rebuked that, part of you couldn’t help but think he was right. And you felt a little ashamed; “I just like being in charge. I earned this rank... just like everyone else.” “Yes, but not everyone else sat in my lectures dying for the day that they could prove me wrong, did they?” “I didn’t necessarily want to prove you wrong...” you still held that small smile, “Maybe I did wanna wipe that smug smirk off your face.” But he didn’t really take that as a light hearted joke. In fact he laughed, almost bitterly and tipped his glass to you; that was sarcasm. “Well, congratulations, Y/N. You succeeded.” He finished the glass, set it down, and fixed you with those blue eyes. You’d lost him, you knew, they were hard and cold and nearly grey. “Now if you’ll excuse me...” Krennic turned away from you, then figured he had more to say and turned back; “I would appreciate it if any time I am put on another project with you, you will pass up the chance to work with me.” “Orson I-” he held up his hand not wanting to hear it, and trying to ignore the pains in his chest at saying this. He had his reasons; he knew what the looks you were giving him were doing to him. It was a confusing and he didn’t like it. Krennic’s only option was to cut it before it began. So he did. “Please. I would like to decline any other offer of work. So, simply don’t make them... maybe I’ll see you around the galaxy, Y/N.” It was all well and good him ignoring his own pains... but you gathered your hands to your own chest. He couldn’t help you ignore yours. *** There was a sharp knock at your door, and you thought twice about answering it – you were busy. If it was important they’d come back. Only the knock was persistent, and sounded a little more than just urgent.  When you opened it, you didn’t expect to come face to face with Orson Krennic. Your eyebrows furrowed; oh, now he was actively seeking you out to add another point to his futile argument. Despite the fact you hadn’t seen him for another few months since the Weapons briefing, and also he’d told you he didn’t want to work with you anymore. That left you a little icy with him, if only to try and protect yourself, his words had stung pretty bad; and you’d exchanged pretty sharp glances the entire way through the briefing. You both knew the other one wanted this one badly. Instead of looking angry like he was about to jab accusations at you, he looked perplexed. For a second both of you stood in silence – because you wanted him to admit to you why he was here, and he didn’t want to voice it. So instead you were standing in a silent corridor staring each other down with two equally confused expressions. Krennic conceded, and his eyes lowered from yours as he held up the thick sheet of folded paper; “…I… Don’t understand…” You were glad he wasn’t looking at your face, because for half a second you knew that sheer panic crossed it. He wasn’t supposed to know about it! He at least wasn’t supposed to know it was you who had recommending him – you narrowed your eyes slightly. Bastards-! You couldn’t trust anyone in this Galaxy! You took a moment to compose yourself and spoke; “Why?” His eyes raised, and he looked at least slightly ashamed “…I thought…” “You probably thought right, but I know someone worthy of a promotion when I see one.” Krennic gained a slight squint at your ‘compliment’ – but he wanted more of an answer than that; “That doesn’t explain why…” You nodded to the paper, “You shouldn’t even know it was me. I don’t need to explain anything.” “I don’t have the commendation – I just have your name.” You folded your arms and leant against the door frame; “So, you think I’m just going to let you read it?” “…E… Even if you just give me the highlights.” “No.” “Why?!” “You have no right to information! That’s meant to be anonymous – they’ll probably tell you when they give you your new rank bar. Are we done?” You stepped back but he took a step forward; “Y/N! I’m not leaving until you tell me why.” Narrowing your eyes again, you attempted to push him backwards, but he wasn’t budging. “Orson Callan Krennic! Until you get that new rank, I still out rank you! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!” He sounded both panicked and exasperated as he ran his hands through his hair; “That’s not the point! I thought you wanted this!!!” “The battle station project? – I do. But I still know when someone can do the work better than me. And you can. More importantly, that’s what the Empire needs… and you have the process and resource. You do that right, you’re going to be more than just promoted.” He looked to the paper again; apparently every word out of your mouth was only serving to confuse him more; “…But it’d do the same for you.” “But you want it. So take it. Besides…” You offered a small smile “You know me, I’ll work quietly in the background, and should you fail…” You gave a shrug “Guess it’s mine.” Suddenly your smile transferred to him; “If I fail, you’re in as bad a position as me.” He waved the letter “You promoted me.” “Orson, honey, you can be one in a long line of mistakes I’ve made – the trick is, if you make yourself indispensable. People overlook that – how is it my fault if you don’t live up to expectations.” There was a subtle step back at that, not the sentence. The word. You’d just given him a cute nick-name without a second thought, and he didn’t know if that or the letter was the more confusing thing of the day. And now he was having trouble focusing his thought pattern on where he was previously heading… Krennic was usually quicker than this, and as you had to wait for another retaliation, and he searched your room as if somehow the words he was looking for would be somewhere in here – you sighed. “Orson…” Your voice was soft and it brought his focus back to you “Come here… sit down… If you won’t leave without knowing why, and you’re gonna stand in my doorway looking like that, we might as well get comfortable and talk about this…” He was slightly hesitant at first, but the good intentions look on your face persuaded him to take the offered seat on your couch. “Drink?” He gave a firm nod and you crossed the room; you would assume him a whisky man, and would join him. Why would you drink anything less - by the look on his own face both of you might be in need of this by the time the night was through.  You turned back to him eyeing your living quarters suspiciously, which made you chuckle. “Relax yourself Orson, this should be more of a celebration afterall... you’re not in trouble. When they present you your bar, I’ll hardly even be able to tell you what to do - which I think is what you want, isn’t it?” But that meant you wouldn’t look at him the way you did, or smile at him like that absentmindedly either. Would you work together now? Could you co-head projects. He smiled at his own thought - he might enjoy that a lot, he realised. Equals. It would be a new experience, but he would like to get used to it. You sat up on the couch, curling your legs up under you and handing him his glass; “…I’m not going to repeat the letter. But part of me is surprised you’d actively seek me out to find out why.” “…I…” He tipped his head and took a sip, words were clearly going to be a struggle for a man who didn’t exactly use them sparingly; but knew smarter ways to use them. “…Guess I just wouldn’t expect you to be the one. All you’ve ever done is push me.” “Yes.” “…And it hasn’t exactly ever been nice pushing. Every chance you get you push me down. Our last project you stole everything from me our first meeting and then went ahead and gave it to me anyway once I was assigned to you. Even I know it’s so you can walk around with that rank and…” He paused at the perplexed look on your face “…I’m…wrong?” “A little.” You gave a smile “Yes. I pushed you; and now you’re here. Doing work, no offense, you wouldn’t get to do without me. In meetings you wouldn’t be in without my invite. I didn’t do what I did in the briefing to undermine you – I did it to strengthen your position.” You set your glass down with a sigh; “Think about it. Sure you’re experienced; but even you know you have a reputation in this galaxy Orson. And it’s not the same reputation as me. They trust me to get it done, and they will overlook you. In a room like that the project is going one way even if you’re the smartest man in it.” You pointed to yourself “I’m not even sure it’s rank related; but if you want to use that against me, I suppose you’re more welcome.” It was clear he didn’t like some of the words that came out of your mouth, but he decided to swallow his pride with his whisky instead of argue with you. “You’re telling me you did all of that for my own good.” “Yes.” “Bullsh*t.” “Believe that if you want to. You’re outstanding at what you do. If I have to make people see that I will. Now you have the opportunity to make them see it for themselves. Go do it, don’t squander it.” You narrowed your eyes slightly; “And be respectful that it’s my name on that promotion slip.” He finished his glass and set it down; “Is it really because you think I deserve it?” You scoffed “What else would it be?” When he turned those blue eyes back on you, it was a knowing look. And it saw right through you. Your breath momentarily caught. “…I know, how you look at me.” He shook his head, “And I think I understand that feeling even less.” You bit your lips together, and you couldn’t hold those eyes. Faint pink crossed your cheeks, but it didn’t need to for him to know he was right. “…I can separate personal and professional, Krennic. It has nothing to do with my… feelings.” “So you admit you have them-!?” He was amazed at that, that you would just outright tell him. If your aim was to confound him even more you were certainly succeeding. You sighed, almost sounding defeated, and finally when you looked back to him, it was that look in your eyes he missed so much from the first project you’d worked on together; you weren’t hiding it, and you weren’t holding it back. And you came to a sudden realisation of your own; he already knew. “Y/N… I-” Krennic paused. How could he not know what to say? Maybe there wasn’t anything to say? But how could there not be. There was so much to say – too much to say? And he was as caught between personal feelings, that he’d kept at bay so easily since he’d walked away from you at the celebration, and professional ones; the things he should say at your commendation to lead to his promotion. He’d be a Director now. That was all on you. He’d head a Division of his own. He’d work on the battle station. He would lead that work.  There was a long silence, and when he opened his mouth again you knew why. “Thank you.” Suddenly every feature was sincere “…I don’t think I’ll… say it enough…” It was quiet admittance. And you knew he’d probably never say it again. You smiled, that same small smile that always brought him back to you from a galaxy far, far away. “You don’t need to say it. I know.” Something in his blue eyes stirred and he realised you had no idea, that he would know how you felt from every non-verbal interaction you’d ever given him. That you had no idea he felt similarly. Until right now. Something was so clear about the way he was sitting across from you, that he would even bother coming here to ask questions – and wouldn’t just take the promotion whilst brushing the name aside. You took the initiative. “So, the question…” you nearly smirked, knowing he’d like this; “…Director, is where do we go from here? Because I think for once, I’m pretty unclear…” Krennic leant closer to you, and you realised you weren’t about to back out of this; “…I don’t know…” His lips hovered over yours; “…But we can start here…” 

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🙏🙏 Thank You For Requesting! 💙🥰

@dennismitchell @happyskywhale @wltz-bby #MendoTagSquad.

[mawmdalorian]

The Knight and the Hunter: chapter 2

They had the Hallikset player serving drinks now. He’d been watching her for about an hour. She moved through the crowds like she’d been doing it her whole life. He didn’t want to be impressed, but… well, it was that kind of night. Something in the air was singing in Boba Fett’s blood, and though it was distracting, it wasn’t the kind of distracting that was going to become a problem. Few things were.

He was something like desperate to get back to Jabba’s palace and bury himself in the pleasures that could be found there, the spice and the sin and the taste of firewater pouring down the throat like sour velvet. Even Boba Fett, after all, took the occasional day, or week, off to unwind. He didn't exactly struggle to focus, but he did concede to himself and himself alone that he was getting a little jumpy.

When the hallikset player appeared again, this time close enough to touch, she came heavy with the cloying scent of fake flowers. Cheap perfume, the kind you grabbed from a market stall on your way home from a long night shift, the kind you didn’t have to throw credits at, the kind you wore to entice men who hadn’t smelled softness in a long, long while. It cut through the smell of grease and the cleaner used on star destroyers. Her skirt—knee length, tattered, having seen better days—snapped around her legs.

“Chut chut,” he said, brushing off the Huttese. It gave his voice a different timbre, sounded different when he spoke it rather than Basic and added a layer to his disguise. She paused, shifted her weight to her right foot. Bad left hip. Old injury? He'd thought it was just an affectation, but maybe it was a real limp. She looked for just a second too long right into his eyes, probably registering the scars and the chip implanted next to his right eyebrow. Fierfek, she reeked of that perfume. Up close, he could see that her dark hair and boots glittered with the mica-rich dust of the planet, and she shimmered in the bright spots of light that created places too bright and too dim in the crowded cantina.

“Hey, what can I get you?” she asked. Sweat was beading on her tanned forehead, the wispy hairs at her hairline sticking to her skin. It was getting pretty warm in the room, though from his position in the dark corners, it was perfectly cool. The hallikset player had been mobile since he’d started the hunt, but she was clearly happy to stand still for a second and enjoy the cool air.

Something was pinging in the back of Boba’s brain. Like a hook, just missing the memory over and over.

“Oto du yocola.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Jee hagwa chess.”

“We just got in some Corellian goldale?”

He nodded, and she did in return, before heading toward the bar again. She collected glasses from raucous tables, and Boba watched as someone reached out to grab a feel as she did so. He raised an eyebrow as she delicately twisted out of the way. He almost grinned.

Fett was naked without his armor, though it was right nearby--in the bag at his feet, actually. He still bristled with weaponry, from the blaster at his hip to the knife in his boot. His armor was known here, though, and this quarry had evaded hunters nearly as good as he was time and time again. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes. She was clever, and if she smelled trouble, she’d bolt like a startled eopie. He'd been trying to learn her routines but she'd been gone almost all week.

When she reappeared, bearing a large tray and an instrument, she dispensed drinks, dropping them at tables. On the way, she slipped her hallikset off her shoulder and set it on stage. They must’ve been ready for her on the bandstand. A new act was setting up. She set his goldale on the table in front of him, and when she got close, something inside Fett bristled. Under the perfume, he could smell her skin, her sweat, and could feel the cool rush of air with her movements. He swallowed. This was one of the reasons he preferred to work in his armor. This was too much contact with the world, too many smells, too many sensations not filtered by his helmet, too many mysteries without a HUD to elucidate.

“There ya go,” she said.

Her tray empty, she handed it off to another server. He watched as she leapt easily onto the stage, her heavy boots practical and sturdy, and sat down on a stool. She quickly tuned her instrument, a seven-stringed hallikset that had clearly been through a war, and when the rest of the band struck up, her music disappeared.

“Quite something, isn’t she?”

Fett turned his head, looked at the man who had invited himself to sit. Some Hutt affiliate. He’d seen him in Jabba’s throne room a time or two, being entertained by Twi’lek dancers and eating rare, expensive delicacies aboard the pleasure barge. He was a snotty karking barve, and Fett made a point not to speak or be spoken to by him.

“You see now why we hired her.”

“Hmm,” Fett answered. The man had no idea who he was, he just saw that Fett couldn’t keep his eyes off the woman.

“She’s a work of art. You’ll never believe it but we found her aboard a cargo transport a few years ago. She’d been bouncing around the galaxy for years.”

“What’d you offer her that made her settle?” Fett asked, partly out of genuine curiosity and partly because if he was going to have to listen to this barve talk, he’d rather steer the conversation.

“A better job than the one she had.”

“So, she traded cargo hauler for cantina girl?”

Cargo hauler… again, that nagging feeling came back.

“Oh, this isn’t her main job. It’s what we do to keep her busy between assignments.”

“So what is it that you have her doing?”

“She’s quite adept at fetching odds and ends from old Jedi temples.”

Fett raised an eyebrow. “Really.”

What a barve. What a stupid barve. It was a wonder he hadn’t gotten the schutta killed yet, though it also explained all the competing bounties on her. One from the Empire, a pile of them from the syndicates, even Jabba had expressed interest. He hadn’t paid attention to the specifics until Jabba had offered him the job on behalf of a “friend,” or whatever it was that Jabba had that passed for a friend. No one had said anything about a Jedi. And she was serving drinks here? That had to sting.

“Is she a… one of those uh… what are they called,” he said, pausing to sip his drink. It was awful, no wonder she’d pawned it off on him. “You know, jeedai.”

“A jedi? I have no idea. She’s had some kind of training in that sorcery though. I’m sure you know as well as I that concepts like jedi and the like aren’t worth much out here. The Empire likes to think they have us all in hand, and that we just turn over our force-sensitives like ordered, pbut even the grandest of admirals bow to Hutt sovereignty. She’s as safe as safe can be in the Outer Rim.”

A moment of silence passed, Fett drank again. He wanted so desperately to stop, but he couldn’t risk the chance that being persnickety about drinks would draw attention to him, make his face too memorable. Not that it was--he was, after all, one of millions of men with the same one.

The faintest impression of the hallikset made its way through the loud cantina. He could hardly hear her over the sound of chatter, drinking, fighting, shouting, and the other players. But he stayed aware of it.

He needed to go get his armor on, but this barve was the type to get irritable if he didn’t dismiss you, and clearly he wasn’t ready.

“So, where are you coming in from, pilot?”

“I’m no pilot.”

“With those flinty eyes? No way. You’ve seen some things. What are you then?”

“Just a freight mover,” Fett insisted. “That’s all. Agricultural products from Nakadia.”

“YOU? Your boss has you wasted. Please tell me you’re at least a first mate?”

Fett wanted to roll his eyes. He sipped the saccharine drink, which left a sour taste on his tongue, and said, “No, sir. I’m just a simple man trying to make my way in the universe. I’m not looking for that kind of responsibility. Just wanting to send enough home to the wife and kids so they can have a good life.”

“Well, if you’re ever looking for anything else, anything more, you let me know. Don’t touch the hallikset player, though. She’s… spoken for.”

Fett knew by the distant eyes the barve flashed at her that the statement was not only not true, but was an outright lie. The woman had probably turned him down a hundred times before. Maybe more.

He watched her look around as she played. She had her eyebrows furrowed. She was looking for trouble. He had to get this over with quickly. They locked eyes for just a second.

The woman had dark eyes, like he did, but rather than the hard cast his had, hers were friendly. She looked nice. She looked… playful, especially when she smiled like she was just then.

Hers narrowed, but he averted his. He wasn’t sure where he’d seen them before. It didn’t matter. She’d be locked in the holding cells by the night’s end, and then she’d be on her way to the client.

The first song ended as the barve stood up, knocked on the table.

“You take care of yourself, friend. And… don’t worry about that drink.”

He walked away. Fett was smart enough to know that the knock was a signal and he should get out and get changed while the getting was good. The hallikset player was tapped on the shoulder. Everyone in here was too drunk to care if the quartet was missing their strings, and the place was busy, so she was pulled away again to wait tables. The barve walked up to her, stood a little too close, but didn’t touch her as he spoke quietly to her. She nodded, shooting a glance at Fett.

Fierfek.

He sighed. Okay. Time to go.

He picked up the holdsall as the woman walked up to him. “Hey, ready for another?” she said with a smile. It was only then that he paid any attention to her earrings. They were semi-circular and gold, with three long chains ending in points hanging from the open side.

“No. Dobra koona.”

“Oh, so soon? The boss just said you drink free tonight. Seems like he’s taken a shine to you.” She smiled, raised her eyebrows enticingly. “C’mon, man. It’s a good night for it.”

He snarled in Basic. “I said no.”

The hallikset player raised her hands. “Whoa, sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to be a bother. You have a good night.”

She walked off. She either had no idea who he was, or was good at hiding it. Then again, why would she know who he was? How would anyone?

He walked out, found a dark corner next to a stack of transport crates, he began to reassemble and put on his armor. It was going to be a long hunt, a lot of waiting. Eventually, she was going to have to come out. He set his carbine to stun, knelt into the shadows, and got comfortable.

Time passed. Slowly, patrons began to leave the cantina. The staff, too, slowly began to leave. He pulled up the information from the Slave I on his HUD. Her name was Tash Lia. She’d been pinging for a while, which is why he took the bounty, a slightly lower one than he’d normally consider.

Tash Lia. This was going to drive him crazy. He wracked his brain. Boba Fett had no debts, so he didn’t owe her money. His romantic affairs—if they could be called that—were generally brief, nameless things, with few exceptions, and he’d remember if she was an exception. He’d remember that long hair, wrapped around his hand as he—

Fierfek.

He was a professional. Professional disinterest was crucial. He’d hunted pretty women before, he’d do it again, and he needed to get himself together.

The sensor in his helmet blinked, indicating something was nearby. It wasn’t any of the patrons. Something in the shadows. Fett felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. It looked bigger than a tooka, but as soon as it appeared, it was gone.

The employee door opened, and Lia walked out. “Alright, barve,” she said aloud, a blaster in her hand. She wore a rugged brown leather jacket and had twisted her braid into a bun. “I know you’re out here!”

Alright. Fair enough.

He stepped out of the shadows, and she raised her eyebrows. “Oh. You weren’t the barve I expected.”

“I’ve gotten that before.”

She glanced around a little. “Where’s the cute guy? I thought he was the—never mind.”

“Is that why you tried to get him drunk?”

“Well, the boss really did promise him free drinks.”

Fett raised his blaster, and tried not to think about her remark about his appearance. “You going to come quietly?”

She was silent for a minute, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t communicating. Her eyebrows furrowed. Her eyes narrowed above her broad cheekbones. “I don’t think so. After all, whoever sent you has to get their money’s worth. I didn’t think I even had a bounty on me high enough for you to bother with.”

He didn’t have a response to that.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

She raised her own blaster, turning off the safety. “I don’t know who sent you, but I’m pretty sure they want me alive, or you would have already shot me. And I’m not going easy.”

“Alive doesn’t mean walking.”

She fired. The blaster bolt bounced off his armor, and he aimed for her leg, but it missed. That was… great. He sighed. Karking force users. Full-tilt, she went sprinting away from him, but that bad hip was going to stop her eventually. He followed.

She was clever, dipping down alleys. It was going to be easier to follow her from the air. His jet pack activated with a button, and he used the HUD in the helmet to put a trace on her that tracked her heat signature even when she dipped behind things.

Tash Lia ran into a large warehouse, probably hoping to nail him in close quarters, which was a mistake. Not many quarters where she could put up a fight he couldn’t win.

Dropping to the ground, he kept low as he scanned the room for her or her blaster. Faint traces of warmth from her footsteps glowed in the thermal imaging HUD of his helmet. He listened. She’d get nervous, staying in one spot too long. She would want to move and keep doing so, no matter how secure her location. He had a feeling she had the good sense not to engage him directly.

Footsteps pounded up a set of stairs just out of his sight. He pursued.

He charged up the stairs after her. A blow hit him, knocking him back. By the time he realized she’d thrown a box at him, he was watching her dart away. Getting righted, he stood, followed—only to find an open window. Sighing, he activated the jet pack again, easing himself to the ground outside. Fett looked around. She was close, he could tell that much.

Tookas tumbled out of an alley, and he followed.

And that was when that second blip on the radar came back, and he realized he was in deep bantha poodoo.

Lia stood in the alley, stock-still. A figure in gleaming black armor, with a rather distinctive helmet design, stood at the other end. There was a long, quiet moment. The round guard of a lightsaber hilt gleamed in double moonlight.

“Mr. Fett,” said the ghoulish figure. “Fancy running into you here.”

Tash Lia’s hand slowly crept to the small of her back.

“Third Brother,” Fett answered. Always polite. No matter how much the man made even Fett’s icy blood run a little chilled.

Third Brother was a tall, scrawny barve with a particularly mean streak. Fett had only run into him once before, but had also run into the results of his work. It had been… messy. Fett’s durasteel stomach had rolled a little.

The Inquisitor flicked the button on his saber, and the fiery blade filled the alley with light as it grew.

“Natasi Salcilia,” said the ghoulish barve, “Such poor luck you have, to be hunted by two killers tonight.”

“The bad luck is all yours, buddy,” said Lia.

He shouldn’t have been surprised to see the green blade of her saber appear, but he was, and now there were two too many lightsabers involved in this hunt for his liking.

“Inquisitor, I have already accepted a bounty on Tash Lia—,” he began, wondering how he was going to talk his way out of this one when it really wasn’t his style to talk in the first place.

“Don’t bother, Fett,” said Lia. “Vader’s attack dogs don’t care about anything but blood.”

Lia made the first move. It wasn’t the position he would have taken, but then again, he didn’t have a laser sword. She was much bolder with the saber than she was with a blaster. Then again, it was a weapon that lent itself to boldness.

The clash of sabers was loud and jarring. The bright lights filled the dark alley, and it was going to start drawing attention on the abandoned street very soon. He was meant to deliver the quarry alive. However, the client had not mentioned that there might be Inquisitors involved. Nothing about Jedi. That's what he earned, though, for not asking questions.

The two sabers touched lightly, testing. The sound was still jarring. The inquisitor pulled up the visor of his helmet. He had a fantastically ugly face “Well, well. You haven’t forgotten your training, youngling.”

“Pretty sure you’re younger than me,” she said. She had a loose, comfortable grip with her saber. Her movements were practiced, precise.

“As you like, Lady Salcilia.”

Fett had to make a decision. If they would put the sabers away, it would be easier.

The Jedi took a step back—retreat? No. He could tell she was up to something. The Inquisitor grinned like a predator. “What is this? Fear, Lady Salcilia?”

He was mocking her. Fett raised his blaster. Tash risked a glance at him. Raised her eyebrow. He swore that his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. What was she trying to tell him to—oh.

“Well, Fett, hope you’ve got the engine warmed up,” she said. “Seeing as how there’s no shot that both of us are getting out of this alive.”

The Inquisitor lunged.

Again, it was a light show, a constant hum-and-buzz routine. This time was different though. Lia’s practiced movements became brutal, serious attacks, beating the Inquisitor down. No longer on the offensive, the Inquisitor was bewildered for a second, which gave Lia the upper hand for just long enough to tire him out. Watching the whole thing was like being in a nightmare.

Fett kept his rifle trained, and when the Jedi ducked, he fired on the Inquisitor. There was a breathless second where Fett was pretty sure he was kriffed, where the Inquisitor realized what had happened. Inquisitors were pretty immune to pain. However, they weren’t immune to politics.

He looked up at Fett. “You traitor! Lord Vader will hear about this!”

Tash Lia was behind him in a second, and the beam of her saber appeared out of his chest, before tearing through his body like a hot knife through butter. Fett was pretty immune to extreme violence, but that was a little sickening. The Inquisitor turned, his own saber nearing Tash’s leg. Momentum was on his side, but Lia twisted away, only getting the edge of her skirt singed. The Inquisitor fell.

She looked up at him. Silence stretched on between them.

“We can’t leave him here,” she gasped, clearly out of breath. Fett didn't move until the Jedi flicked the switch on her saber, turning it off. She tucked it away and looked up at him. It took him a second to realize she was waiting on an answer.

“We could put him out the airlock.”

She nodded as she slipped her bag over her shoulder. “Any asteroid fields on the way to where we’re going?”

“Not going to put up a fight anymore?”

He put away his blaster and opened the pocket on his belt where he kept the binders. Lia held out her hands. “I’m not an idiot. You had multiple opportunities to shoot, so whoever hired you wants me alive. They definitely want me dead,” she said, shooting a glance at the Inquisitor. “And I need offworld, like, now, before they figure out this barve is missing. I’ll fight later.”

He picked up the gored Inquisitor and threw him over his shoulder. Lia followed him.

"So how'd you get out of the Sarlacc?"