#jod na x reader

[thecoffeelorian]

Anomaly (Jod Na X Reader)

A/N: I typed this out in the span of a morning on my phone, and then worked my way up from there. Anyways, to business...

Title: Anomaly

Chapter Title: The Stowaway

Genre: Drama/Romance

Word Count: 1,077 words

AO3: Click Here!

Special Notes: I have zero idea if Jod is going to be either the pirate I think he is or the ex-Jedi that others believe him to be...however, if none of these turn out to be true, then I'll just mark this as an AU and keep on trucking along. 'Nuff said!

No Pressure Tags: @ladysongmaster @braveincafleet @ireadwithmyears and anyone else who might want to catch the first-ever Jod Na x Reader story in this fandom! Thank you for your consideration!

ANOMALY

This doesn’t feel like the Great Work to me, you think to yourself, glancing around in silence as the Reclamation Committee gathers at At Attin’s first, and probably last, official spaceport. Originally, you would be deep into your latest pile of holo-work in the Undersecretary’s office, a half-drank cup of caf on your right and the few images of your surviving relatives sitting still upon your left.

Thanks to the curiosity of a handful of local children, however…everyone’s daily routine, yours included, has since been upended be it for better or for worse. In fact, the tension’s visible on everyone’s face as they await the incoming ship, and most likely for good reason—the ones said to be on board, at least in theory, are going to have a lot of explaining to do.

As for you, you’ve got both eyes upon your datapad screen like the good little Intern you are, making as many mental notes as possible while you wait. So far, according to the reports—or, at least, the official documents that you had been granted access to—all four of the missing children had been found safe; they had then been directed onto a secure flight back home; and, once the growing blur of that same flight could be seen from the platform and the volume of all human conversation around you grew alongside it, they would certainly be participating in a very long debriefing once those docking bay doors finally opened.

And yet...everything that you hadn’t been informed about becomes, as soon as the one known as Neel is the first to step off, pretty sparkling clear once the security droids all aim their weapons at the back of the ship.

“No, wait! Don’t hurt him, he’s a friend!”

To your surprise, if not also the surprise of everyone else around you, there was a fifth person on board. This person must have been halfway decent enough to keep this little group under their watchful eye, for the remaining kids still on the ship—Fern, Wim, and KB respectively—all add their voices to Neel’s protest as they’re coaxed onto the platform, Wim going so far as to try and pull the blaster out of a droid’s hands before a short pop of static electricity teaches him differently.

And, once those same droids give the order for them to come out with their hands up…your first sight of that fifth person all but takes your breath away.

Oh. Dear. Me.

Yes, there’s a man hiding back there, not some Wookiee in a fit of rage…but he’s not just any man as the ones among you already have been. No, this one has the equal look of both predator and prey written into his body language, for the look he gives the security team is nearly an even mix of one about to shoot down several live targets and one about to run for cover, almost like he's known both such situations in the course of his life...but isn't about to breathe a word of it.

To your growing sense of alarm, he’s also far too damned attractive for his own good, let alone yours. Sure, there are the signs of middle age upon him, why would there not be—and yet, other than the visible age lines upon his face, the stiffness in his steps, and the traces of silver within his hair, you just couldn’t stop yourself from running a visual scan of everything else he’d brought down to the surface. Things like...the hard set of his shoulders, the sharp outline of his jaw, and—worst of all—those startling blue eyes that you swore saw everything ahead, behind, and every other direction around him in a matter of seconds. Eyes that could see right through you if you’re foolish enough to let them, though you can only hope you never fall for any piece of this stranger’s charm, direct or otherwise.

And if that alone hadn’t somehow warned you in advance not to look too long, not to examine him too closely, and above all else, not to allow yourself to care too much about what might happen to this mysterious stranger…the reaction of the head droid would finally drive it all home.

”Jod Na Nawood, also known as ‘Crimson Jack’, also known as 'Captain Silvo', in the name of the Republic, you are hereby under arrest…”

Crimson Jack…? Captain Silvo? Him?! That one was the 'Thief Of A Thousand Treasures'?

You’d heard of a few stories about that scary figure, but that was all they were supposed to be. Stories. Legends. Tales one told to their children in order to get them to behave at the dinner table, and not real people of flesh, blood, and bone, because there were supposed to be no such thing.

Especially not away from the pages of a holobook, let alone outside of any datapad video feeds.

And yet…as this infamous Crimson Jack finally allowed the binders to be snapped around his wrists, one sad look sent towards the children before being taken into custody, it was here that you had to start asking yourself whether or not some of these stories were, in truth, full of facts as solid as durasteel—and if so, whether this stranger was truly as dangerous as the stories whispered in the dark made him out to be.

It would also be about a few seconds later that those startling blue eyes would just happen to meet yours, an even stranger feeling of both warmth and cool air pass between you like the rush of a long-dormant hyperdrive slowly working itself back up to full power and, finally, a phantom set of words echoing within your mind just as surely as if he had spoken them aloud.

I see you.

Several minutes would pass by until you snapped yourself out of your stunned silence and came back to reality, a few familiar faces around you making sure you were all right, that no tricks or funny business or strange arcane rituals had taken your mind over where you stood—and yet, for all of that, there was only one thought left in you, only one question that made sense—and so, even though this man was no longer in your sight, still you asked it out loud for everyone else to hear.

“And if I were to get inside your head, Mister ‘Crimson Jack’...what would I see?”

[wannabespacesmuggler]

THE LAST TIME ➵ J. N. NAWOOD

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: The last time you saw Jod Na Nawood, he was taking off with his crew in search of treasure — promising that this haul of credits could finally get you both out of this life for good. Years later, you’re still on Nevarro where he left you, but you’ve created a life free from the bounty hunter’s guild and backstabbing pirates. That is until Jod Na Nawood shows up on your doorstep with four small children asking for your help. Against your better judgment, you agree, but with a promise that this is the last time you let him in your door. It was only a matter of time before your seemingly neverending patience for the scoundrel found its end, but Jod decides to push his luck one last time.

Pairing: Jod Na Nawood x gn!Reader

Warnings: written after episode 6 of Skeleton Crew, previously established relationship, angst, language, no use of y/n, use of nicknames

Word Count: 3k

Author’s Note: Happy Skeleton Crew Day! The show isn't even over, and I'm writing for my favorite pathetic man. Should I wait until we know more about Jod's backstory to write for him? Maybe. Is that going to stop me? Absolutely not. Will any new information change how I feel about him? No. It's Jude Law, and I love him. Listen, Disney has GOT to stop giving me reluctant fathers — I'm out here collecting them like infinity stones. Anyway, I haven't seen much fanfic for my boy Jod, so I figured I'd write a little something. I've become a little too invested in this relationship between the pirate and the bounty hunter after writing this, so let me know if you want to see more of them — like their first meeting, their first big score, or just some snippets of their travels together.

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you watch a group of young children scurry past your shop while you close for the day, racing to get home before curfew. Grabbing your datapad and flipping off the lights, you begin your trek home just outside Nevarro’s capital city. On your way, you wave goodnight to multiple other shop owners who have rebuilt their lives in Nevarro. It’s incredible to see what this city has become. Within the past ten years, Nevarro went from a ruthless refuge for bounty hunters and Imperial outlaws to a bustling city built on lawful trade and commerce.

You never thought you’d be able to live a quiet life — not after the grueling years you spent with the bounty hunter’s guild. You thought you were meant for a life filled with danger and excitement, but as the years went on, that life began to take a toll on you — allies turning into enemies, always having to sleep with one eye open, never being able to settle down somewhere. But here you are, with your own plot of land and a shop filled with the treasures and artifacts you collected on past adventures. The only thing missing in your life is the person you want to spend it with. 

You shake that thought out of your head as you enter your quaint home nestled amongst several small farms. You try not to dwell on the past — especially not those that left you behind. However, you can’t help it as your eyes land on an old photo on your bedside table that you never had the heart to destroy. There, pictured with his arm slung around your shoulder with a bright smile after your first big score together, is Jod Na Nawood. The photo marked the beginning of your partnership. What started as a professional business arrangement quickly became an unlikely friendship — a pirate and a bounty hunter against the galaxy. Eventually, that friendship shifted into something a little more tender. And soon enough, you’d fallen in love with the man that no one else dared to trust. 

A frustrated sigh escapes your lips as you tear your eyes away from the photo. You should get rid of the photo, as it’s now just a reminder of the man who left and never came back. You haven’t seen Jod in years — not since he ventured off with his latest pirate crew in search of treasure. It didn’t make sense for you to tag along since your latest bounty puck was on the other side of the Outer Rim territories. But the night before he left, Jod promised you this was it. The cunning scoundrel of the star systems assured you that this was your last bounty and his last plunder. And you made the mistake of believing him. 

You made your way to the kitchen and busy yourself with brewing a fresh pot of caf, knowing that even though the sun had already set, you are far from sleep — a life of hunting bounties cursed you with many things, including insomnia. Before you can pour yourself a mug, you hear footsteps approaching your bungalow. You quickly grab the blaster you have hidden under the counter. Nevarro may be a reformed city, but you’re still prepared for the worst. 

You quietly move to the front door and press your ear against the cool wood. To your surprise, the voices you hear sound juvenile. You loosen your grip around your blaster as you suspect some of your neighbor’s kids are out past curfew. It wouldn’t be the first time that you have to walk some of the local children home to ensure their safety. But when you open the door, your breath catches in your chest. He’s leaner than the last time you saw him and his short hair is a little grayer, but standing before you is none other than Jod Na Nawood. A charming smile spreads across his face as he locks eyes with you.

“It’s been a while, Jewels.”

The old nickname is like a punch to the gut — knocking out the air caught in your lungs. You hated the term endearment, which only made Jod use it more. But on a quiet night in your old starship, after too many glasses of Rodian spice liquor, Jod explained the true meaning behind the name: all the treasure in the galaxy will never compare to you — his prize jewel. 

“What are you going by now — Crimson Jack, Silvo the Mad Captain, Jodwick Zank, Dash Zentin, or maybe Professor Gorelox?”

You know it’s a low blow, but the way that name slipped off his tongue so easily angers you. It’s like every emotion you’ve ever pushed away has come crashing down on you. But you’re not that person anymore — you're not his — you haven’t been for a while. Jod bristles at your question. To the rest of the galaxy, he may be a liar and a scoundrel, but with you, he was simply himself. Even if you don’t realize it, no one in all the star systems knows Jod Na Nawood like you do. 

“Just Jod.”

“What are you doing here, Jod?”

He glances behind him, and you find the source of the voices you heard: four young children huddled together. Your face softens as they look up at you.

“I need your help.”

For a split second, his mask of swaggering indifference slips, and you can see the exhaustion embedded deep into his handsome features. Jod’s shoulders slump forward for a moment before he rights his posture. 

“This the last time I’m letting you in my door, Jod.”

Your words are a double-edged sword — a threat and a promise. Jod nods knowingly, and, against your better judgment, you open the door the rest of the way, letting Jod and the children into your home. 

“Noticed no speeder outside. Did you get rid of it? You loved that thing.”

He attempts to make small talk. It’s strange being in your presence now. He thought he’d find comfort in it, but it now feels awkward after years of separation. But he knows how much that speeder meant to you — an old Joben T-85 you’ve had since your youth. When you weren’t off chasing a bounty, you could be found working on that bike. And you always kept it just a few paces outside the front door of your old house on Nevarro.

“Had to. Who do you think had to pay off all your debts when you disappeared?”

Ouch. Guess he needs to add that to the neverending list of things he has to make up for. Jod keeps his mouth closed and follows you into the kitchen. You pour two cups of caf. He’ll have to make do with having it black; you stopped stocking your small pantry with cream and sugar about a year after his departure. You slide a cup toward Jod before looking at the four children. 

“You guys hungry?”

You open your pantry, letting each of them choose a snack from your selection. Your eyes wander to Jod, sipping his caf slowly, nose crinkling ever-so-slight at the taste. His slacks have been patched at least a dozen times, his cotton shirt is torn, and the jacket he’s wrapped in is ill-fitting. Your brow furrows at the sight. The Jod you knew put, arguably, too much effort into his appearance. 

“I have a trunk of your old clothing under my bed. Go change.”

You motion towards your bedroom door, but Jod doesn’t move. Instead, a grin pulls at his lips.

“What’s wrong with my get up, Jewels? Am I not a sight for sore eyes?”

“You’re a sight, that’s for sure.”

Jod playfully rolls his eyes before relenting. You attempt to stifle the shiver that runs down your spine when his arm brushes against yours. But it’s safe to say Jod noticed based on the smirk that pulls at his lips. You’re almost embarrassed by how much your body yearns for his touch. After years of separation, he’s right here invading your personal space — and yet he still feels so far away. 

Jod finally breaks free from your orbit and disappears into your bedroom. He lets out a shaky breath as he closes the door. He approaches your bed and chuckles at the amount of blankets you’ve thrown on top of your mattress. He remembers the countless nights in your starship that he’d slide into bed, only to be immediately pulled into your chilly embrace. Your hands would slide under his loose shirt, and although your touch was ice cold, he’d never pull away.

Jod shakes off the memory and pulls the trunk out from under your bed. Inside are a few cotton shirts, an old pair of trousers, and his favorite jacket, which is folded nicely at the bottom. He never thought he’d see this jacket again — he never thought you’d keep it after all this time. He tries not to look into the gesture until he looks up and spots the photo on your bedside table. His hands move on their own accord as they delicately pick up the photograph. It reignites his cold heart, and he’s suddenly drowning in an ocean of unspoken emotion. 

The sound of your laughter in the next room forces him to tear his eyes away from the memory. He quickly changes, a sigh of relief escaping his lips as he slides his arms into his old jacket. It’s the first time in years that he actually feels like himself. 

He steps out of your bedroom and is emotionally sucker-punched by the scene before him. You’re on the couch with the kids close by. KB and Fern are on the floor watching something on your satapad — most likely one of the old Mandalorian soap operas you’ve watched at least a dozen times. You’re on the couch with Wim and Neel. Neel snores quietly with his head pressed against your shoulder, while you card your fingers through Wim’s hair as he sleeps peacefully with his head in your lap. It’s domestic — it’s what life should have looked like for the two of you. 

He doesn’t have the heart to interrupt this picturesque moment, but you eventually feel his gaze and look up at him with a soft smile. For a second, you simply look at each other before you eventually tear your eyes away from him. You gently shake the boys awake before getting the girls’ attention. 

“C’mon guys, you can sleep in my room. There’s more than enough space for all of you. KB and Fern — you can even keep my datapad for the night.”

The girls smile at you before racing into your bedroom, immediately claiming the mattress for themselves. Wim and Neel trail behind them and collapse onto the small couch in the corner of the room. After the children have settled in, you close the door and return your attention to Jod. 

“We need to talk.”

Jod nods at your words and follows you into the kitchen. He watches with a small smile as you pour yourself another cup of caf. When the two of you traveled together, you practically ran on caffeine. Some things never change. 

“So, At Attin?”

You look up at him and take a long drink of your caf. Jod nods at your words and leans against the counter across from you — still in disbelief over the revelation.

“It’s real.”

“So, I’m told. Wim even gave me one of these.”

You pull out an Old Republic credit from your pocket, and Jod simply stares at the little piece of metal in your hands. The things he’s done just to get his hands on a stash of those old credits — the people he’s killed, the friends he’s betrayed, the loved ones he’s left behind. It haunts him. And yet, he’s practically salivating at the credit in your hand, and if you were anyone else… Well, old habits die hard, he supposes.

His reaction makes you let out a dry laugh, and you place the Old Republic credit on the counter beside you. You take another sip of caf before confronting him.

“That’s what you’re doing this for, right? Chasing down an old pirate’s fairytale for a couple of credits?”

Jod’s face falls at your insinuation. He thought if anyone would understand how incredible this information was, it was you. His posture turns uncharacteristically rigid as he now feels the need to defend himself. 

“It’s real, Jewels. The kids, they said…”

“They’re children, Jod! Children make up stories all the time — they would be from anywhere in the star systems. Have you even thought this through?”

Jod’s brow furrows, and he shakes his head furiously at your words. 

“No, it has to be real. They wouldn’t offer up a reward they can’t cash in.”

“They would if they thought it was the only way you’d stick around.”

Jod prepares to bite back at your claim but stops as he notices your downcast expression. That’s why you thought he never came back? The realization slaps him in the face. You may believe that he cares for treasure and coin more than your company, but you couldn’t be more wrong. His longing for you is burrowed deep into his bones. Your voice, which he carefully burned into his memory, was his only companion. You were his every waking thought and his every idyllic dream during his time in that dank, dark cell. 

“I had every intention of coming back to you.”

You let out a frustrated huff at his words but note how his voice has softened. His gaze is intense as he waits for your response.

“If you wanted to, you would have.”

The palpable hurt in your tone makes him feel like someone just stabbed him in the heart and twisted the knife. You should never feel unwanted — especially by him. Not when Jod knows it’s been you all along. 

Not coin. Not treasure. Not even the Old Republic credit he’s miraculously forgotten about on the counter. You.

“You have it all wrong.”

You roll your eyes at his words, and for a moment, he thinks you’re about to argue with him. But you stay silent, letting him continue. 

“I meant it. What I said to you the last time I left. But I was wrong about the credits — they were moved before we arrived. And you know how much that stash meant to the crew — how life-changing those credits would have been for every single one of them. So, Brutus invoked the Pirate’s Code, and I yielded, knowing I needed to get back to you. And I’ve been stuck in a cell on Borgo Prime ever since.”

Your mind is reeling as you take in his words. All this time, you thought he’d been plundering the galaxy. But, instead, he’s been imprisoned on a planet a mere day’s travel away. 

“You’ve been that close this entire time?”

Jod nods at your words, and his heart breaks as tears begin to well up in your eyes. He takes a daring step forward. With no opposition from you, he takes another step and then another. He’s invading your personal space once again, but this time, you aren’t complaining. You place your now lukewarm cup of caf on the counter beside you, next to the forgotten Old Republic credit. 

“How’d you know where to find me?”

Jod places his hands on either side of the counter, caging you in before answering.

“Brutus had the crew keep tabs on you. At first, to make sure you didn’t come looking for me. But then, he just did it to torment me with all of the details of your new life without me. When I escaped that damn spaceport with those kids, I came straight here.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat as you look up at Jod. You know you should be angry at him. Furious. There’s a long list of wrongs that he needs to right before he’s an upstanding man. But as he stands before you, looking down with nothing but adoration in his gaze, you cannot find it in yourself to be anything other than content. Jod ducks his head down a little lower, meeting your eyes. 

“I’m truly sorry, Jewels.”

You lift up on your toes, closing the distance between you, and capture his lips with yours. He moves his hands from the counter to your waist, greedily tugging you closer to him. The way he touches you is urgent — this is all he’s dreamed of for years, and he won’t waste a single moment. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down towards you with just as much desperation. The kiss is deep, passionate, and ravenous. Eventually, you both must pull away — the need for air outweighing the need for each other.

After catching his breath, Jod smiles brightly down at you. And he’s suddenly Crimson Jack again — the charismatic and dangerously charming pirate you fell in love with all those years ago. But there’s a newfound maturity and sincerity that makes him less like Crimson Jack and more like the man you always knew he could be: Jod Na Nawood. And it’s for that reason that you know what he must do.

“You have to leave again, right?”

Jod sighs, nodding at your words. He presses his forehead against yours, wishing to stay in your embrace for the rest of his days. But he’s made promises that he must keep. Promises that will take him far from you, but he has to make sure these kids get home — wherever home is. But after he does right by the children, he can finally begin doing right by you. And that starts with coming back — and then maybe replacing the speeder bike that you sold off for him. He knows he may never be able to right every wrong he’s done, but he’ll spend the rest of his life making them up to you — as long as you let him.

“This is the last time, I promise.”

And against all odds, you believe him. 

[moonmaiden1996]

Pirates Prize

I finished watching the latest episode and some lovely person made a request for some DarkJod. This is where my inspiration took me. Hope you like it! Might do another chapter...maybe

SOME Spoilers

Co-ordinates to At-Attin where not the only thing Jod laid claim to deep in Tak Rennod cave of treasures.

The ancient lair of Tak Rennod loomed before the group, a labyrinth of jagged metal and stone buried deep within a forgotten moon’s crust. Twisted spires of corroded iron jutted skyward, their silhouettes stark against the dull, star-speckled sky. The faint hum of energy barriers and the ominous glint of booby-trap mechanisms spoke of a pirate’s paranoia, layered over centuries. You adjusted your pack, the weight familiar but still pressing into your shoulders, as your researcher’s instincts warred with the adventurer’s curiosity that had brought you this far. You followed Jod and the children into the dark, yawning corridors ahead, the shadows swallowing the group whole.

The children—who you had vowed to protect and bring home—huddled together, their wide eyes darting nervously from wall to wall. Fern, their self-appointed leader, stomped ahead with a determination that belied her small stature. Her sharp voice, pitched with a mix of command and irritation, broke through the group’s unease like a whip crack.

“Keep up, everyone! I’m not waiting for anyone to fall behind!”

“Fern, slow down,” you cautioned gently, glancing at the uneven floor for signs of traps. “This place is full of dangers. We need to be careful. Let SM33 go first.”

“I know,” Fern snapped, throwing a scowl over her shoulder. Her brown hair, tied tightly in a ponytail, swayed as she walked. “But we’re not going to get out of here by standing around like scared babies.”

Her voice carried more confidence than the rest of her body language. You could see the tension in her small hands, balled into fists, and the way she darted anxious glances at the walls. Despite her bravado, fear lingered just beneath the surface. You couldn’t help but admire her courage, even if her bossy demeanor grated on your nerves. You had worked with Kh’ymm long enough to recognise the weight of responsibility Fern carried for the others.

Your role in this was clear: protect the children and ensure Jod, the unpredictable pirate who’d roped himself into this mission, didn’t abandon or exploit them. Your mistrust of Jod had been well-placed. He was a rogue, a liar, a thief. And yet, there were glimpses—infuriating glimpses—of something more. Something deeper that made you second-guess your own judgment. A dangerous thing in a place like this.

“Stay close,” you said firmly as the group approached a branching corridor. The narrow paths were choked with hanging wires and dislodged panels, rusted metal gleaming faintly under the weak light of your torch. “This place is full of traps.”

Jod chuckled, the low, lazy sound making your skin crawl. His cocky smirk remained etched across his face, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re scared of a few traps, sweetheart? This is child’s play.”

You shot him a glare that could have melted steel. “Keep your voice down. Or do you want Tak Rennod’s ghost to hear you?”

The children giggled nervously at your words, while Jod’s grin widened, unfazed. Still, he said no more as you knelt beside a wall to decipher the intricate mechanisms carved into its surface. The pirate’s lair was a puzzle, and puzzles were your specialty. Every marking, every wire told a story—a story you needed to piece together to find the safe path forward. Somewhere deep within this labyrinth lay the data stack you were seeking, a treasure trove of encrypted information that could hold the key to returning the children home.

You became absorbed in your work, analysing ancient symbols and hacking into the lair’s decaying information stacks. Time slipped away as you carefully avoided setting off pressure plates and motion sensors. The thrill of discovery overtook you, pushing aside the oppressive weight of the silence—until you realised the chamber had grown eerily still, no arguing children, no gruff Jod, not even the clanking sound of SM33.

“Fern?” you called, your voice echoing off the walls. “Jod? Kids?”

No response.

Panic began to coil around your chest as you hurried back to the central chamber. It was empty. The children were gone, and so was Jod. In their place, SM33 stood by the carved stone throne, its exposed wires sparking faintly. The droid’s single working optic lens swiveled sluggishly to look at you.

“Arrr, yer back, lass,” SM33 rasped, its voice a grating, garbled mimicry of a pirate’s growl. “But the young mutineers be gone. Cap’n Jod’s got his own plans, he does.”

You dropped to a crouch beside the droid, your heart hammering in your chest. “What happened? Where are the children?”

SM33’s optic lens flickered erratically. “The cap’n… he be challengin’ the wee lass Fern for leadership. A duel, aye. The skallywags set off old cap’n’s trap, dropped right down the pit did they. Smart, they were.”

Your stomach dropped. “They’re dead?”

SM33 rattled out a glitchy chuckle. “Don’t be daft, lass. Not yet. They’ll not last long in this devil’s pit.”

Before you could respond, a shadow moved at the edge of the chamber. Your head snapped up, your hand instinctively reaching for your blaster. Jod stepped into the dim light, his silhouette sharp and predatory. His smirk, as infuriating as ever, spread across his face, but his eyes—dark and glittering—were trained solely on you.

“Miss me?” he drawled, his voice smooth and dripping with mockery.

You rose to your feet, keeping your blaster trained on him. “Where are the kids, Jod?”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, though his movements were slow and deliberate, like a predator circling prey. “Relax. They’re alive. Old SM33 told you, didn’t he? They dropped down to a cove below. Smart little crew you’ve got there.” His smirk deepened, his voice turning syrupy with derision. “But they’re stuck. No path out unless they brave the infested waters.”

“You betrayed us. We had a deal,” you said, anger thickening your voice. “We trusted you.”

He stepped closer, his boots clinking softly on the metal floor. His presence seemed to fill the room, heavy and oppressive. “You trusted me? Sweetheart, you’re smarter than that. You knew what I was the moment we met. And yet here you are.”

Your grip tightened on the blaster. “Where are they?”

Jod’s smirk faded, replaced by something darker and more dangerous. “I just told you. They’re alive. For now. But this place isn’t kind to strays.”

“Then help me find them,” you demanded, desperation breaking through your anger. “If you care about anything besides yourself, help me bring them home—like you promised.”

He laughed, low and chilling, the sound wrapping around you like chains. “Oh, I care. Just not about them.” His gaze burned into yours, fierce and unrelenting. “Stay with me. Be mine. I’ll save them. I’ll take them home, if that’s what you want. But you’re the price.”

Your heart pounded. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he said, stepping closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous purr. His hand reached out, calloused fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face, the gesture both intimate and possessive. “But I’ve never lied about what I am. You, though… you’re the first thing in a long time that’s made me want more.”

You shook your head, backing away, but his other hand shot out, gripping your wrist with enough force to make you wince. “I won’t let you use me.”

Jod’s voice turned cold, a sharp edge slicing through the false warmth. “I’m not asking. You’ll marry me, sweetheart. Agree to that, and I’ll make sure the kids get back to their cozy little lives, after I get into that mint of course.”

“And if I refuse?” you whispered, dread pooling in your chest.

His expression hardened, his eyes gleaming with a possessive intensity that made your breath hitch. “Then you’ll watch them die. And you’ll still be mine. But that would mean using my little Force tricks on you.” Instantly, you felt a pull, invisible yet commanding, brushing against your mind. “I could use the Force,” he continued, his tone mockingly sweet, “but we both know you’ll resist, and I would have to push hard and it’ll be unpleasant for us both. I’d rather have you willingly.”

Your hands trembled as you weighed your options. Jod was a monster, but a monster who could save the children. Their faces flashed in your mind—their laughter, their hope. If sacrificing yourself meant saving them…

“Fine,” you said, your voice barely audible. “I’ll marry you. Just save them.”

Jod’s smirk returned, triumphant and predatory. “Good girl.”

As he stepped closer, his grip tightening possessively on your wrist, he brushed a kiss against your cheek, lingering just long enough to make your skin crawl. With his other hand, he unhooked your blaster and tucked it into his belt. “Just in case you have second thoughts,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Now let’s get going before more hunters find us.”

Jod kept his grip on your wrist as he led you out of the chamber, his pace steady, purposeful. His hand was firm but not painful, though the way his fingers wrapped around you sent a shiver of discomfort down your spine. He didn’t look back, his confidence a sharp, unspoken reminder that he believed you were his—an object claimed, a prize won.

"You’ll see, sweetheart," Jod murmured softly, his voice thick with a tender force. "This doesn’t have to be as bad as you think. In fact, it will be everything you need. Once we get to At-tin and its mint, we’ll have everything. That was the good thing about being imprisoned for so long on Borgo Prime, the planning is all done. Once we have enough we’ll have everything we have always wanted, and you’re going to be right at my side. Traveling the galaxy, we can even explore some of those planets you were researching, if there is anything of any value there anyway."

His words settled heavily between you, you felt sorry for him. There was something different in his voice now—softer, almost desperate. His usual possessiveness was still there, but underneath it, there was a vulnerability, a need that ran deeper than anything you’d heard from him before. How long was he imprisoned for? You couldn’t imagine a pirate prison was very hospitable, yet you felt bad for feeling bad. He was a pirate after all, violent and unpleasant was in the job description and you once again steeled yourself. 

His fingers tightened around your wrist, gentle but unyielding, the touch intimate in a way that unsettled you. This wasn’t just a claim; it was a yearning, an aching hunger for something he couldn’t live without. You could feel the way he was looking at you—not just as an object to possess, but as the one thing that made him whole. It sent an unexpected shiver through you, a mix of fear and something else you couldn’t quite place.

"I’ve been thinking about it," Jod said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, as though confiding in you. "Once the children are returned, we’ll have our celebration. We’ll have our night..." His words trailed off as he leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear. "I can’t wait to feel you completely, sweetheart. I bet you are as soft as Karilini silk. And you feel so warm,” his voice purred." his voice purred. ‘’I cannot wait to take you, truly take you, in every way. The moment I have you, I won’t ever let you go." his voice thick and heavy.

The weight of his words hung in the air, a suggestion so raw, so intimate, that it made your pulse quicken. His desire to possess you completely—physically, emotionally—was suffocating, but in that suffocation, you could feel his need. He wasn’t just imagining it; he was counting on it. And worse, there was a part of him that believed you’d surrender to it eventually. His confidence was unsettling, but it was the tenderness behind it that made it impossible to ignore.

His words hit you like a physical force. There was no anger in them, only a quiet intensity, a need that radiated from him like heat. You fought to keep your emotions hidden, but inside, you were battling a storm of conflicting feelings. The idea of being so utterly adored, so completely wanted, terrified you.

His free hand rose to cup your cheek, the roughness of his palm a jarring contrast to the gentleness of the touch. “You’re mine now,” he said softly, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t forget that.” The weight of his words settled over you, suffocating and final. You nodded stiffly, not trusting yourself to speak. Jod’s smirk returned, his thumb brushing against your cheek before he turned and resumed walking, dragging you along. The silence stretched, broken only by the faint hum of the lair’s ancient mechanisms and SM33’s metallic clanking.

The softness in his voice, mixed with the weight of his claim, made his words feel less like a statement and more like a desperate plea. He wasn’t just trying to control you—he was trying to pull you into a world where he couldn’t breathe without you. You nodded stiffly, unable to find the words to respond. There was no escaping him now, not in this moment. You were trapped, bound not just by his grip but by the weight of his need for you. It was pitiful really, that he was so devoid of anything in this life that he clung to you, a stranger, flung together by a group of stray children. 

Jod’s lips curved into a satisfied smirk, but the look in his eyes softened, as though he were savoring the moment, treating you like something precious—something fragile.

As you reached the entrance to the lower levels, the dark expanse ahead felt like a shadow closing in on you both. Jod reached into his belt, retrieving a small device that he tossed to the ground. It hummed to life, projecting a faintly glowing map of the area.

“The kids are down there,” Jod said, his finger pointing to a blinking dot on the map. “They seem to have stayed safe. Smart little brats. But don’t worry, love, we’ll get them. Sooner we do, sooner I can get you back to the ship, into my newly requisitioned captain’s chamber. You would like that, wouldn’t you.’’

His words made your heart stutter, a flutter of something you couldn’t ignore. A deep pit forming in your stomach. You nodded slightly, focusing on the map, forcing yourself to ignore the way his words tugged at your chest and the way he was looking at you. 

“Good,” Jod said, his voice low again, inching closer to you, so close you could feel his warmth, feel the possessive edge of each word that made your stomach tighten. “But don’t get any ideas, love. I’m the only one who can get them out alive. You need me.”

His breath brushed against your ear once more, soft and insistent. “I’ll have you in my arms soon, sweetheart. I’ll make you see this is where you belong. No more running.”

You clenched your jaw, fighting to suppress the anger that bubbled just beneath your calm exterior. You couldn’t show him how much his words stung, how much you feared the twisted reality he was creating around you. But deep down, you knew—this battle was far from over, and somehow, with every step, the struggle to break free would only grow harder.

As Jod led you deeper into the lair, his presence beside you was heavy, oppressive, and yet strangely intimate. It wasn’t just the darkness that surrounded you now; it was his need to claim you, to keep you, to make you a part of his world. You weren’t just being led through the shadows—he was drawing you in, pulling you deeper into the darkness- to him.

Please let me know what you think! Or make a request

LIKE. COMMENT. REQUEST.

[hollowempire]

Soothing Song | Jod Na Nawood x GN!Reader

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

Summary: Nights on a (space) pirate ship full of noisy individuals aren't ideal for sleeping. Fortunately, the captain is there to offer some relief.

Note: I needed Jod fics immediately so I decided to take matters into my own hands and start writing reader inserts again. Got this idea from Jod singing in Episode 6.

Warnings: None, but note this takes place before the events of Skeleton Crew and Jod is referred to as Silvo as that’s what the context calls for.

Word Count: 1,530

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

Living on a pirate ship as someone who preferred to still follow somewhat of a normal routine was not a situation intended for the weak, but after getting dragged into a crew of rowdy pirates with no say in the matter themself y/n didn’t have much of a choice but to stick it out. They had ended up among their ranks after mistakenly becoming a witness to one of said crew’s many misdeeds, a seemingly simple case of wrong place wrong time, but rather than execution to avoid leaving witnesses to tell the tale this civilian suffered a much worse fate: dealing with them.

Now, y/n was by no means weak in any sense. In fact, their spirit was why they were allowed–or rather forced–to live and join in the first place, with their quick thinking that day leading to their evasion of the law showing them to be a rather useful ally. But one could only handle so many sleepless nights before it became unbearable. They were noisy, and there always seemed to be something going on. Previous attempts to shout, plead, and threaten them into silence proved to be useless, so all they could do was lay there.

Moving from their back and onto their side facing the window, sorry excuse for a mattress creaking pathetically with the movement, their gaze became trained on the endless array of stars beyond the glass. One of the few positives they managed to find in their predicament was the views, both during travel and on the surfaces of the various planets they encountered on adventures. Their home planet had practically nothing to offer, air so thick with pollution there were people who doubted the sky was anything more than a myth, and there was of course never an opportunity to leave. So in any other case, getting taken away would have been like a dream come true.

Only it wasn’t. A harsh clanging of drinks against tables indicating something exciting was happening outside reminded them of that.

Trying not to pay too much attention to the commotion, y/n momentarily lost themself among stars. They thought about how quiet it must be for them. How lovely it must be.

“You haven’t come out to complain tonight, is everything okay?”

The sudden voice coming from the door to y/n’s quarters startled them, leading them to jolt into an upright position and reach for the blaster strapped to the side of their bed on instinct. That instinct was something instilled in them after months of pirate adventures.

“Relax,” The culprit held up his hands as he spoke, stature more teasing than that of someone who was in any actual danger. “I don’t think the others would take very kindly to the assassination of their captain,”

Upon realizing it was Captain Silvo who had interrupted their false sense of peace, y/n visibly relaxed and sighed.

“What are you doing in here?” they questioned. He hardly ever stepped away from the celebrations that transpired after a successful job, which was exactly what was happening right then, and their confusion grew when he locked the door as it slid closed behind him.

“Checking up on you,” his statement was plain, changing tone right at the end with the newfound absence of his vocoder as he shed the mask that often obscured his entire face.

That was another positive y/n found in all this, his face. Silver hair framed undeniably handsome features, and the sight of it made their heart flutter in their chest ever so slightly. It was a rare occurrence, so the effect was something they were never quite able to get used to.

“What, worried your prisoner got too comfortable and fell asleep for once? Unlikely,”

“You aren’t a prisoner,”

The only response Silvo received was an eyeroll as y/n turned their attention back to the window. While they could no longer see him, the rough clank they heard from behind indicated he had set down his mask. They wondered what his intention was, first locking the door and now putting his things down as though he intended to stay. Their questions didn’t remain unanswered for very long, though, and they turned back around rather violently upon feeling the bed dip under Silvo’s weight.

“Careful, you’ll give yourself whiplash,” he teased. In that moment y/n realized he had also removed his jacket and discarded it alongside his mask, leaving him in only the loose fabric of his shirt tucked into pants tucked into boots. Said garments brushed against the arm they leaned on to remain balanced, and if it wasn’t for the fact that they were so confused, the sudden proximity might have brought a blush to their face.

“Well, now I’m really wondering,” they crossed their arms as the words left their mouth, then making it a point to emphasize every word as they repeated their earlier question. “What are you doing in here?”

“You’re struggling to sleep, I have a solution,” he spoke as though it was the most casual thing in the galaxy, shrugging and kicking off his boots as he did so.

Y/n scoffed at him, arms still crossed.

“And what might your solution be?”

“I can sing you to sleep,”

This time y/n laughed, and as they did they fell backward into a lying position. They ran their hands over their face as Silvo spoke up again, allowing them to rest there over closed eyes.

“I’m being completely serious,”

Opening their eyes again, y/n shot him a look of disbelief, but the expression that awaited them on the receiving end actually did seem serious. Silvo sat waiting with raised brows, eyes trained on their face with great intensity. Now curious and unwilling to risk hurting his feelings, y/n begrudgingly shifted toward the far end of the bed to make space for him.

“Ah, I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist,” His eyes practically lit up when they moved, and the urgency at which he climbed in beside them could only be described as enthusiastic.

Silvo had settled on a sitting position with his back against the wall and legs outstretched beneath the covers, which y/n took as an opportunity to use his thigh as a pillow and shifted so their face ended up pressed against it. The captain opened his mouth to speak, to question it, but y/n interrupted him with an answer before he could even ask.

“You barged into my room and interrupted my alone time, so I’m going to invade your personal space,” they stated as they stretched into a more comfortable position. “Now sing, pretty boy,”

Their newfound ‘pillow’ shook beneath them as a laugh reverberated through Silvo’s body, amused.

“It’s hardly invading if I like it, but whatever you say, darling,”

Y/n’s ears perked up at his use of a pet name. Even though they had been the one to do it first, their heartbeat quickened at the sound. They hoped he couldn’t tell.

“Your heart is beating rather quickly, are you perhaps ill?” Silvo feigned concern, but the faint hint of a smirk could be heard in his voice.

Of course he could tell. They had dug themself into a ditch in getting so close; he could physically feel it.

“Shut up and sing,”

But Silvo’s offer continued to be further delayed, because as y/n spoke they smacked his thigh in retaliation to his teasing. He recoiled dramatically, and as a result y/n slid back onto their original pillow with a thud. They glared at his now pouting face.

“If you’re going to be so ungrateful I could always just leave…” Silvo made a move to get up as he spoke, tone clearly lighthearted, but was stopped by fingers promptly wrapping themselves around his wrist. A smirk returned to his lips. “Desperate, are we?”

“Just get in here,”

The position the two took on that time was far different than before. More intimate, to be exact. Silvo was laying down fully, and y/n’s head found its place on his chest as his arm encircled their back. Neither spoke for a moment, leaving the room as silent as it could be with the constant hum of the ship and the crew’s everlasting noisiness.

Eventually, the quiet beginnings of a song filled the air. It’s not one y/n recognized, but Silvo’s voice is soothing and they let out a content hum to let him know that without feeding his ego too much. As the song carried on his words became clearer but remained soft, accompanied by a gentle hand moving back and forth along their shoulder.

The world around them seemed to fade away as y/n lost themself in Silvo’s song just as they had with the stars before he showed up, and they finally drifted off to sleep there in his arms, grateful he wasn’t screwing around when he said he had a solution.

That was the first good night’s sleep they got in a very long time. Silvo was just glad his excuse to get close to them provided some benefit.

[writing-girlie]

𝚆𝙾𝚁𝚃𝙷 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙺 ★ 𝙹𝚘𝚍 𝙽𝚊 𝙽𝚊𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Story Summary: Fate had thrown you back into Jod Na Nawood’s orbit, and despite your history with the captain, you found yourself pulled into his reckless mission. A treasure map, precious cargo, and an entire galaxy chasing after it—everything about it screamed trouble but what wouldn't you do for him. WC: 1,372 Note: I don't know if I should write more chapters so if you're interested let me know

You were on your way back home from another successful job. No matter how many times you had flown through the galaxy, you still couldn’t help but admire it. The sharp crackle of your comms interrupted your thoughts, followed by the familiar voice of one of your bosses.

"Hey, Patch." The nickname drew a faint smirk to your lips. “I’ve just had a transmission come through, and you’re the closest. Do you mind checking it out for me? They don’t know what’s wrong, so you’ll just have to figure it out once you’re there.” Your job didn’t really excite you like it did at the start; it was just another paycheck, another ship, and another faceless crew who needed you to patch up their mess.

“Sure. I can do that.”

“The ship’s called Solar Spear. I’ve sent you the location, and as always, contact me if you need something. The comms crackle back out, and the screen in front of you chimes and flashes up with coordinates. You set the course and go on your way. Once you arrive, you see that there is no active power signature, and one side of the hull is caved in slightly, scorched and crumpled as if it had been scraped by something much larger. Your brow furrows as you assess the damage the best you can. Ships like this usually limped to a station after taking hits like those, but here it was, silent and adrift.

“Solar Spear, This is RPR-18. I received your transmission for help—you’re expecting me.” You tap into their comms, hoping that they're working. It takes a few moments, but eventually a response comes through.

“Yes, we have a small docking bay at the back right. Thank you.” You pull the ship up and land in the small space. The docking bay was small—only just fitting your ship. The clamps lock it into place, and the door behind shuts, so you power your engines off and get out, leaving your tools for once you knew what you were dealing with. When your feet hit the ground, the entry doors hiss open, and a young man is standing there.

"Thanks for coming," he said with a polite nod, hands clasped in front of him. "The captain’s expecting you. I’ll take you to him."

You follow him, walking through the ship and towards the bridge. The ship then starts rumbling slightly, and you hear someone call out that the backup supply has been engaged. The bridge door then hisses open, and you step inside. The room glowed softly as systems came back online, control panels lighting up one by one. The faint murmur of the crew and the hum of technology returned. But none of that caught your attention. Not really. Because standing right there was him.

Jod Na Nawood

The years hadn’t really changed him. His coat hung loose over his shoulders, a blaster was strapped at his hip, and that same cocky half-smile curled at the corner of his mouth. His hair was now streaked lightly with silver at the temples. And then there were his eyes, locked on you the moment you stepped into view, like they always used to be.

“Sunshine” His voice was soft, as if he were testing the weight of the word, but hearing that name on his lips again was like a punch to the gut. It was from another version of yourself—one who had trusted him, laughed with him, loved him. You force down the lump in your throat and steady your breath.

“Captain Nawood” Your eyes glance around the bridge, noting how the crew kept their heads down, busying themselves with their tasks, pretending not to listen.

“Captain?” He repeated “You never used to call me that unless we were off duty.” His smirk deepened, voice laced with teasing nostalgia. He stepped closer, his body just within your personal space, the heat of him unmistakable. “I always did like how you used to say it.”

Heat pricked up your neck and onto your cheek, but despite your best efforts to not show how it made you feel, Jod caught it. His smirk stretched wider, eyes flickering over your face, down to your mouth, then back up.

“What am I doing here? You’ve got the backup supply; that should be more than enough to get you to a planet for repairs. So is there anything else, or can I go?” 

“There’s no time for that; we have important cargo that needs to be delivered quickly. Can you just have a look at the main system and see if you can work some of your magic?” Yesterday you could’ve sworn that if you saw this man again you would’ve killed him, but now, with him in front of you, that wasn’t even a thought.

“You’re telling me that you’re working for someone?” you said, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “Since when do you answer to anyone?”

“Since someone paid me well enough to make it worth my while.” He could tell from the look on your face that you didn’t believe him. “You make it sound like I’ve never followed the rules before.”

“That’s because you haven’t.” You say plainly. He laughed softly, the sound warm and familiar. For a moment anger bubbled inside of you again; you hated him—not just for the past, but for the way he could still make you feel. The bridge door hissed open, and a woman entered. She had the kind of confidence that came from being both good at her job and knowing it. Her eyes immediately found Jod, the faintest of smiles curving her lips.

“Captain,” she said smoothly, ignoring you entirely. “The cargo is accounted for and secured. Credits, jewels, a few relics—enough to turn heads.”

“So definitely not your ship; otherwise you’d know what you’re carrying,” you said, eyeing Jod sceptically.

“I never said it was. And thank you, Verya,” Jod replied with a smirk. Just as you opened your mouth to retort, she cut you off.

“It doesn’t matter who the ship belonged to. What matters is that it’s ours now, and we need to stay ahead of anyone who thinks otherwise.” Her gaze flicked to you briefly, as if measuring whether you were worth her time. Apparently deciding you weren’t, she turned back to Jod. “Anyway, we found it.”

Verya handed him a rolled parchment, her movements deliberate. Jod unrolled it carefully, the fragile paper crackling in the quiet. It was a map—an old one, by the look of it.

“What is it?” you asked, leaning in despite yourself.

“It’s a map,” Jod said flatly.

“I can see that,” you shot back, your tone sharp. “What’s it for?”

“It leads to a planet,” Verya answered before Jod had the chance, her voice steady but laced with excitement. “The stories say it’s filled with treasure. Enough to make someone the richest person in the galaxy.”

“Great. So you’re chasing a legend?”

“I’m chasing an opportunity,” Jod countered, his smirk returning, though this time there was an edge to it.

“An opportunity to do what? Get yourselves killed?” you asked, your tone heavy with scepticism.

“Some risks are worth taking,” Verya interjected, her gaze flicking back to Jod. “Especially when the reward is this big.”

“And what’s the plan?” you pressed, forcing your voice to stay even. “Hope no one else figures out what you’re carrying.”

“Oh, they already know.” Jod’s tone was maddeningly casual. “That’s why you’re here—to make sure we don’t fall apart before we get there.”

“Great. So you’ve got a massive amount of treasure in the hold, a map everyone in the galaxy would kill for, and no real plan. Sounds solid.” You clenched your jaw and pinched the bridge of your nose, resisting the urge to throttle him.

“Don’t worry. The captain knows what he’s doing,” Verya said, placing her hand on Jod’s bicep with an ease that grated on you.

“That’s debatable,” you muttered, shooting her a glare before glancing pointedly at her hand, then back to her eyes.

“I always figure it out, Sunshine. You should know that by now,” Jod said, his chuckle low and infuriatingly self-assured. His gaze lingered on you, filled with amusement.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

so like…would anyone be interested in a jod na nawood x reader fic?

[obiwansito]

guys....

[thecoffeelorian]

Just a little bit of research...

[thecoffeelorian]

...yeah, okay: part 2...

...So I jumped the gun with my latest X Reader WIP, but let me tell you something...

The life expectancy of mentors in this fandom is, unfortunately, pretty darn short. Doesn't matter if it's TV, movies, or animation; you name a series, there's most likely a mentor who died during the course of it.

So...if I think this latest mentor would be a little happier in a cozy retirement, possibly as a quasi-House Husband...I'm darn well gonna pull it off ahead of time.

[thecoffeelorian]

"Anomaly": The Master List

Synopsis: Originally, you would be deep into your latest pile of holo-work in the Undersecretary’s office, a half-drank cup of caf on your right and the few images of your surviving relatives sitting still upon your left.

Thanks to the curiosity of a handful of local children, however, everyone’s daily routine, yours included, has since been upended...be it for better or for worse.

Chapter 1: The Stowaway // Chapter 2: Connections

Chapter 3: The Quest // Chapter 4: Republic's Honor

Chapter 5: The Mothers' Touch

[writing-girlie]

𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚂 𝙰𝙻𝙸𝙶𝙽𝙴𝙳 ✩ 𝙹𝚘𝚍 𝙽𝚊 𝙽𝚊𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟷/𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘)

Story Summary: You and Jod are paired for a mission where you only have one chance. Forced to rely on each other an unexpected bond forms and you both start to see past the walls that were built. As the mission intensifies and you become each other's source of trust and comfort, you're left to wonder if this is a brief spark amongst chaos or something worth holding on to.

WC: 730

The cantina was bustling with activity, filled with all sorts of beings from across the galaxy, their chatter joining into a constant hum. Drinks were poured, dice were rolled, and stories were exchanged—some details true, most not. At the heart of it all stood Jod Na Nawood, leaning casually against the bar as a small group was captivated by one of his tales of daring escapes and near-impossible heists.

The crowd laughed, not entirely sure where the truth ended and the embellishments began, but that was part of Jod’s charm. He soaked in the attention, his grin widening. But just as he was about to begin another, something caught his eye, or someone.

In the corner of the room, you sat alone at a booth, unbothered by the chaos that went on around you. Jod excuses himself from the crowd, deciding to come to you.

“Is this seat free?” He asks, his hip resting against the edge of the table. You didn’t even look up at first, but when he knocked on the surface, you glanced up briefly, your expression showing disinterest.

“Not if you’re planning to sit in it.” His grin grew slightly, and he sat down.

“The name's Jod Na Nawood and you are…”

“Wishing you’d leave” you say with a brief, sarcastic smile. Your reply doesn’t deter him; if anything, it intrigues him as he gets more comfortable in his seat. Despite your dislike for people like Jod, his presence was impossible to ignore—confident, mysterious and that charming grin. You take a sip of your drink, hoping he’ll become uninterested and leave on his own accord.

“So, what’s your story?” He questions, and by the way your eyes narrow slightly he could tell you weren’t going to answer him. “Come on. Most folks around here have something to hide, and you look too calm to not have a story.” You shrug, dismissively, but by the way Jod spoke you knew he was going to be persistent.

“You’re wasting your time. I don’t have anything to interest you.” He leans forward, a moment of silence passing between the two of you.

“I don’t believe that,” Jod says with a slight shake of his head. You let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, his persistence starting to annoy you. You look around the cantina, but his eyes don’t leave your face; you can feel his gaze the whole time. When you turn your attention back to him, you lean back in your seat.

“So you can keep trying, but like I said, you are just wasting time.” This time you speak slightly firmer but he just laughs like this is all a fun game to him.

“I like a challenge.” He says with that cocky smirk. You raise an eyebrow. He does think this is a game. For a moment you’re not sure whether you should let him win the small battle for your attention by telling him some fib to amuse him, or just walk away. Yet for some reason, you stay put. You take a long drink. Your silence seems to only egg him on. He watches you closely, his gaze flicking to the drink in your hand and then back to your eyes. You could feel him studying you, trying to piece together whatever puzzle he thought you were.

“You know, I've sat across from all sorts and eventually they crack and talk. All of them, even if it's just to get me to shut up.”

“Well, no surprise there” You roll your eyes slightly.

“You're good at this” He gestures all vaguely. “Keeping people out.”

“Yeah, you've figured that out yet you're still trying” A short laugh comes from him as if he's amused by his own persistence.

“I have a bad habit of chasing things that don't come easy but,” He then stands up, smiling at you once more, the grin never quite leaving his face. “I’ll take the hint.” He reaches for his jacket. “This isn’t the last time we'll see each other though.” Without waiting for a response, he winks and strides towards the exit. You watch him go, a strange mix of irritation and curiosity inside you.

He wasn’t your problem. Not for now, anyway.

[hollowempire]

Reason to Celebrate | Jod Na Nawood x GN!Reader

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

Summary: When a treasure hunt goes particularly well, the pirate captain known as Silvo makes an unexpected move on the true object of his affections.

Note: I imagined this with the same reader as my previous fic, but you do not need to read it to understand. Once again, this is tagged as Jod but refers to him as Silvo. This one is partially based on the opening scene of the first episode, but it’s not the same event and doesn't end as terribly.

Warnings: Description of severed body parts.

Word count: 2,003

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────

No matter how much experience y/n gained, missions never became any less stress inducing. It was always high stakes, risking either capture by the law or failure to deliver on the promise of treasure, both scenarios resulting in imprisonment or worse. 

Said missions being theft, of course. Truthfully, they’d really be called treasure hunts. They were pirates after all. 

Typically, y/n was confined to screens and observing from afar after naturally having fallen into some sort of a watchman role. As of late, however, the crew’s Captain Silvo had made a habit out of dragging them along directly at his side. Being at his side so often wouldn’t have brought out a complaint in them if it wasn’t adding to their already heightened state of anxiety. That being the case, they settled on thinking it was a stupid decision, but his status didn’t put them in much of a position to protest against his insisting. 

On that particular outing things were going about as they usually did—on a good day, that is. With alarms blaring, ship damaged, and no one left alive to apprehend the cause. 

What made that one different, though, was that Silvo swore with great confidence the treasure they were actively making their way towards was bigger than anything they had ever seen before. That worried y/n.

The captain’s long coat flowed dramatically behind him as he made his way through the captured ship’s halls, quick pace interrupted only occasionally as he stepped over toppled supply crates among other things. His crew walked just behind, all equally as eager but unwilling to overtake his path. 

Standing out from the crowd was y/n focused on remaining in step with his long and determined strides. So lost in that, they failed to realize a broken pipe bent into their path and stumbled over it. Instead of impact on the hard ground as their feet gave out beneath them, though, the feeling they were met with was a strong arm around their waist. They looked up to find Silvo’s smirking face. 

“Careful, darling, wouldn’t want you to miss my beautiful victory,” There was the pet name he always used that made them both blush and roll their eyes simultaneously. 

As Silvo allowed y/n to straighten themself out and stand on their own, he realized this mishap had occurred just in front of their destination: A large vault. His smirk turned into a full on grin as he took it in. 

Right in the middle of the door was a touch pad clearly indicating it required a handprint to open, and when Silvo’s eyes set on it he brought forward a cloth bag soaked in red, previously held in the opposite arm that hadn’t caught y/n moments before. From within it he pulled the severed arm of the ship’s former captain, which y/n knew to be his doing personally. While they didn’t witness it visually, the scream they heard from behind the door he instructed them to guard meant he had taken what he needed before carrying out the kill. Or perhaps he simply left them there to bleed out, y/n didn’t know. He did seem rather proud of himself when he emerged, though, declaring he found the key.

Taking a deep breath, recoiling slightly at the smell of flesh that had been sitting in a dirty old bag along in a concoction of must and its own blood for quite some time by that point, Silvo approached the touchpad and placed the ‘key’ against it. A few moments of tension passed and it beeped, followed by a series of clicks around the edges of the door. He then simply let the arm fall from his grasp, no longer caring what happened to it as it left a red handprint against the screen that now flashed green in approval. 

As the door slid open—painfully slowly, he might add—Silvo held his breath, nervous. Y/n could tell because the inhales and exhales usually amplified by the vocoder contained in his mask had come to a stop. He seemed to realize this, too, because he was quick to remove it, evidently trying to appear nonchalant in the process. The rest of the crew took no notice of this, so it worked for the most part. 

That breath was let out not too long after when the door opened just enough to reveal he was in fact right about just how plentiful the reward of this adventure would be. He let out a shout of celebration and dashed inside, y/n in tow as he grabbed their hand. The rest of the crew promptly followed suit.

Silvo stopped directly in the middle of the room and spun around, laughter of pure joy and disbelief falling from his mouth. As the room filled with excited chatter from the others Silvo stopped and grabbed y/n’s shoulders, shaking them around a bit. 

“See? I told you!” He exclaimed. They had previously vocalized their doubts and concerns, and they were glad to be proven wrong. Everything was turning out fine.

But before y/n could manage to admit that, they felt themself getting yanked forward and his lips were on theirs. Much to their own surprise, they kissed back without much hesitation or delay, and within moments the pair was lost in a passionate kiss. It was a bit out in the open, but everyone else was too preoccupied with other things to notice. 

“Listen, I’m not complaining, but what was that for?” They questioned between pants after pulling away, placing their hands firmly on Silvo’s shoulders to address him more seriously.

Interrupting whatever answer he was about to give, the tone of the alarms still echoing throughout the entire vessel suddenly changed. They seemed more like a warning for the invading party, and as the sound of gears shifting beneath the floors as several sections opened up joined the noise it seemed that was exactly the case. 

“You… did finish the captain off, right?” 

Silvo only stared at them with his mouth slightly ajar. They huffed. 

“You kriffing idiot!”

“Okay, yeah, I deserve that,” he said to them before his eyes set on rather heavily armed droids rising from the newly formed openings around them. Panic set in and he spun around on his feet, amplifying his voice when he spoke again to address the rest of the room. “Grab whatever you can and RUN!”

It seemed for him, ‘grab whatever you can’ included y/n along with something he had been eyeing on their way out the door. They didn’t catch what it was, but with his tight hold on their hand dragging them through the ship at a high speed they didn’t have time to even consider caring. 

From then on it was every man for himself, well, aside from Silvo and y/n, who had suddenly become inseparable. Everything was just a sea of blaster fire and hoping for the best, though mixed in with that y/n could’ve sworn there were several points at which seemingly sound structures suddenly toppled over in the pair’s wake to crush oncoming threats, accompanied by some odd gestures from Silvo. They still didn’t have time to care. 

After what felt like forever, the two finally reached the ship. A few men had already made it there, and some more piled in after them. They couldn’t afford to wait for anyone more than the captain, which was set into stone as the man himself signaled to the cockpit to get the ship going. Anyone still trying to fight their way out was essentially doomed from that point on. 

While Silvo busied himself with that scene, y/n slipped away and dashed towards their room. The pirate life was still not something they had gotten used to, especially not being involved in all the action, and it was overwhelming. They collapsed onto the bed and pulled a blanket over their head. 

A while later, as y/n was nearly about to fall asleep, there was a heavy knock at the door. Peeved, they violently pulled the blanket away from their face and glared at the door as though it would magically make the disruption go away. It didn’t, and there was another knock. 

“Yes?”

The door slid open to reveal a still unmasked Silvo standing there with his hands behind his back, and the step he took inside was only big enough to allow the door to close itself behind him again.

“…yes?” They repeated. 

“Come here, I have something for you,” he responded quietly, gesturing them over with a nod of his head. Clearly at some point he had managed to snag more treasures, because several strings of gold ornaments clinked together around his neck as he did. Not in the mood to bicker with him after the day’s chaos, they complied with a sigh. 

Y/n raised their eyebrows as they came to a stop right in front of Silvo, which he took as a queue to reveal said something. His hands appeared from behind his back, and a necklace appeared laying across his palms as he opened them facing the ceiling. 

“Huh, I must be pretty special if you’re giving this to me instead of selling it for profit,” they smiled as they said it, voice teasing but also partially serious. It really was a surprise. 

“I’d give you some cheesy line about how my real treasure is you, but I’ll spare you,” His own tight-lipped smile held something else behind it, something they had never seen in him before. 

“Well, that’s a relief,” They turned around as Silvo pressed gentle fingertips against their shoulder to guide them in doing so. “But what exactly is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means I have feelings for you,” his words were accompanied by a quiet click as he secured the necklace around their neck. 

Y/n spun around so fast Silvo had to dodge the necklace as it gained some air with the sheer force of the movement. Fortunately the clasp, despite having spent what had likely been a very long time sitting around untouched, was still strong enough that it did not become a projectile. 

“You do?” 

“What, did you think I kissed you for no reason back there? It was spontaneous but it meant something,” he stated matter-of-factly, raised eyebrows matching theirs. 

“Well, no, but—”

“Did you think I kept you by my side for no reason? Let you have your own room while my crew sleeps in bunks for no reason? Let you live for no reason?” 

Oh, so it went that far back. Y/n started at him with their mouth hanging open as they considered all the moments that maybe weren’t them just being hopeful. 

“You’ve been special to me from the start, darling,”

And then, there was silence. 

That is, until y/n sheepishly cleared their throat. 

“For the record, it meant something to me too,” they finally spoke, to which Silvo smiled. He tried not to look too relieved, but they could tell. One of the only people allowed to get well acquainted with his face, they had in turn become skilled at reading the expressions etched into it. 

“Good, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I have some very angry pirates to go calm down,”

“Yeah, good luck with that,”

Silvo pressed a chaste kiss to y/n’s lips before speeding off towards the commotion. As they watched him go, their hand rose to gently caress the shining gem hanging on the chain around their neck. Whatever it was, it looked more like a basic shard of glass than anything recognizable. They didn’t know what its value was, it must’ve meant something if Silvo picked it up out of everything else, but that didn’t matter. It being a symbol of the feelings that were brought to light made it the most important piece of jewelry in the universe. 

[thecoffeelorian]

The Anomaly Series, Chapter 2: Connections (Jod Na Nawood x Reader)

A/N: Soooooo. I may not be able to do this every week, but I had a spurt of inspiration recently, so for now I decided to keep going. Hope that's okay!

Chapter Title: Connections

Genre: Drama/Romance; Slow Burn

Word Count: 1,235 words

AO3: Click Here!

Special Notes: Have I done some research that suggests how Jod is both a Force-Sensitive AND a space pirate...? I sure have. Do I have any clue, though, how the parents are going to shrug off this dystopian government in order to find their kids? I sure don't. Nevertheless, the spoilers here remain more or less recent.

No Pressure Tags:

@ladysongmaster @amawu23 @evabellasworld @tarak1495 @jedinerd27

@braveincafleet @xitlalli2001 @leos-multifandom-corner @nonniecannie @khaleesihavilliard

@cc-cobalt-1043 @bridge-always @illithiddreams @gun-roswell @kucharka23

@bruceewayne @robin-hyperfixates @shirley-girly @lulalovez @deepestballoonllama-fandoms

@seekerbear90 and anyone else looking to give a little love to our favorite space pirate.

They’re watching you now, this Reclamation Committee, and not because you’ve recently performed any Acts of Service to your community. On the one hand, as the formerly missing kids have already been sent to their Debriefing and will be cleared to return home as soon as possible, naturally, their family members will be joining them in whatever room or building this procedure is scheduled to take place.

On the other hand, however, Wendle has still already given you his raised eyebrow treatment; Undersecretary Fara has promised you your own round of questioning; and all the others you’re not that acquainted with yet have already started up on their own respective grumbling. Apparently, they’re getting just a little bit fearful that you might try to help this notorious space pirate escape justice, or so you can tell rather well by the changes in their expressions.

Small wonder, then, that you’re only too happy to exit your work site when the time comes, your mind caught between annoyance and mild panic at the harshness of this new treatment.

Who in the galaxy do they think they are, these people in charge who are quick to judge you over a single minute of weakness? Nobody asked that criminal—that man—to tag along on the children’s flight home, so obviously, you were just as surprised as they were to see him stepping off at all.

You also didn’t expect any ‘suddenly proven legend of deep space’ to come in looking like that, let alone somebody so notorious as this “Crimson Jack”. That, too, had been a shocker for you, and if you could have your way—which, Maker willing, you would soon enough—you would be all too careful not to look into his eyes a second time for fear of drowning in them.

No, if the tiny queasy feeling you felt deep inside your stomach told you anything, it would be more than smart to stay away from that one. You already had the life that your parents hoped for you, the stable job that your little society had seen fit to grant you, and to top it all off, you would be meeting the first of many potential Life Partners in the next 2 rotations.

In other words, there was no reason whatsoever for you to throw all of this safety and security away.

So why, then, did you find yourself thinking of him all over again…?!

Before you let yourself stew in what you call ‘the old mental juices’ too much, you sit yourself down in your chair almost as soon as you walk into your small apartment; the muted tones of light yellow and pale redberry having a slight soothing effect upon your otherwise rattled nerves. With your careful choices of white linen curtains, pale orange chairs, and light brown side tables with a few personal items scattered throughout, it’s just about everything a lady like you could ask for after such a difficult day. All that’s really missing here is your afternoon cup of caf, your hour’s worth of contemplation and reading up on local headlines, and finally, when you’re ready, a quick dinner made on your little stove.

And yet, even though you know you’re calming yourself down and there’s no one else around to bother you...still there’s an odd buzzing feeling coming from the back of your head, almost like something’s just a little out of place.

Or, dare you even begin to think it…like somebody might be watching you.

Without thinking twice, you turn quickly to look behind you, your breathing and heart rate going up a notch. There aren’t any strange people grinning down at you from any place nearby, or, at least, not on the inside. Maybe one of the security droids was out on patrol, and you heard it roll past your door just now. Perfectly normal procedures. Very present, very helpful, and absolutely nothing for you to worry about.

At least…not until your focus shifts to your electronic notepad sitting on the side table, as well as the single word that instantly sends a chill up and down your spine.

Hello.

Oh, kriff it, but you know for a fact that you’re not the one who wrote that message. Not only has your matching pen been sitting motionless beside your notepad, you’re also about 99.9% sure that if anybody had broken in before your arrival just to mess with your head like this, the security droids would have already caught them.

But then again, if absolutely no one from the outside—yourself included—could have written that, then who did?

I see you.

Your answer comes in an instant, the letters appearing upon the screen just as surely as if he—that man, Crimson Jack—had been standing there and writing them himself. Your pulse might not exactly be slowing down at the sight of it, since you’re now a bit disturbed that somebody like him would dare to barge in unannounced like this, to start slipping past your defenses even if he couldn’t exactly see that they existed in the first place—and yet.

Nothing could have prepared you for the rush of emotion that comes afterward, or that even deeper, almost painful, sense of heat and cold that threatens to overtake you. It’s enough to make you want to turn around and run right out of your house, your neighborhood, possibly even your sector—and still feels heavy enough to keep you frozen in place.

And still, over everything that’s happened today, over his surprise appearance, your even worse reaction to making eye contact with him, and all the responses of your associates that clearly frown upon you now where they once smiled at you in welcome—there’s one last question hanging in the air.

What. Are. You…?

You almost expect some instant response out of this, some reply that could otherwise validate whatever connection, commlink, thing, is happening between you. Whatever it is, it's certainly felt like a force of nature written small, and so you're watching that screen in a shaky silence, almost daring the words to appear.

You'll have to start writing me back, sweetheart.

A few seconds pass by before you remember your pen, the obvious choice for something so simple as this. Of course you're going to have to rely on alternate means of communication, because as far as you know, neither one of you has any datapads with a direct link to the other, and so you're both left at a huge kriffing disadvantage here.

Ugh. Get it together, stupid.

This is why you don't think twice about scribbling the words upon the screen, though not without hoping that whatever higher power might be in control of this situation, they find a way to not think of you as a failure. That you're somehow worthy to take this a step or two further, and so establish a direct line of communication with Crimson Jack as soon as possible.

Provided, of course, that you can manage to sidestep both your superiors and the security droids.

Thankfully, it’s not that long before Jack himself responds to you once more, the letters forming on the screen a bit slower this time, like he’s putting a bit more thought into them—and with it, there comes your next surprise of the day.

It’s simple, sweetheart. I’m a person who needs your help.

[thecoffeelorian]

The Anomaly Series, Chapter 3: The Quest (Jod Na Nawood x Reader)

A/N: ...Yes, this story is now, OFFICIALLY, canon divergent. Ya know, because I don't condone/endorse violence against children, and any other disclaimers I need to put here.

Also, there are three literal episodes left, so pardon me if I'm still holding out for Jod and Neel eventually twinning in their clothing choices in canon. 'Nuff said.

Chapter Title: The Quest

Genre: Drama/Romance; Slow Burn; Obvious Canon Divergence.

Word Count: 1,698 words

AO3: Click Here!

Special Notes: As I'm not yet sure how I even begin to breach the topic of child abuse here...let's just do the safe thing and label this as 'Spoilers up to Episode 4'. Thank you.

No Pressure Tags:

@chenoa-devyn-blog @not-approvedtrash @lulalovez @deepestballoonllama-fandoms @papa-poutine

@xbeyondthegatex @bridge-always @loverdjudeforever @kucharka23 @khaleesihavilliard

@xitlalli2001 @braveincafleet @amawu23 @gun-roswell @bruceewayne

@shirley-girly @cloudofpinkicecream @lokigirlszendaya @valdasha @aemondvelaryon

@carry-on-wayward-daughter @pantasticalcat @robin-hyperfixates @down-down-by-the-river @sydneyann623

@brookeandherfandoms @kazunish @redermraven @ladyofthelakee @nightlordsvengence

@tarboo13 and anybody else who wonders what romance would look like for this hot mess of a man. :D

I’m a person who needs your help…

As of ten seconds ago, every other thought that had once been safe inside your mind feels as though they’ve all flown away, and so not left much else behind them save for one of the few thoughts that remains.

You’re officially involved.

There’s no other way around it now, because you’re feeling it too deep in your consciousness to turn back. You’re involved in this stranger’s case, and it’s going to take nothing less than a little Reclamation of your own to knock you off this path, and—despite all of your previous attempts to calm down, there’s some of the old adrenaline starting to course back into your body.

My help…? What kind of help do you need?

This rush makes you just a tiny bit lightheaded as you wait for Jack’s response, not knowing if he’s about to try and sweet-talk you into arranging a jailbreak or not. That was THE one thing that the Reclamation Committee had been worried about, and so, even if he let loose with a mountain of ‘Sweethearts’, odds already were that you would have to turn him down due to your ingrained obedience to the Law.

The same Law that, unfortunately, has spirited him out of your reach and out of your sight.

Something that I doubt my jailers want anything to do with.

And why is that?

They’re the ones who just robbed me.

Not that you’ll necessarily have to, maybe, because he hasn’t brought it up yet…but then again, he could always try to trick you up by slipping some kind of missing key or lockpick into the mix. Judging by how the security droids were more than happy to keep their weapons trained upon him, anything is possible here.

I’m sorry.

No need to apologize to me, sweetheart. You’re not the one who did this.

But I am the one you want to help fix it...right?

That depends. How good are you at finding lost things?

That’s one thought you have to keep fresh and safe inside your mind no matter what, along with eventually refusing him in that sense if it should happen.

In the meantime, though, you’re adding a second page to this new file of yours, as you have a slight feeling that you might certainly need it later.

Well…I once found my best friend’s missing keychain back in school.

That must have been a while ago, though. What about recently?

That depends on where you’re going with this. What’s so important that you need my assistance?

Fine. They took all my belongings away before they locked me up. Happy now?

Another thought that you’re unfortunately blessed with, though, is the image of Crimson Jack being attacked by two prison droids. The first never thinks twice about administering a few short electric shocks; the second strips him clean of any and all weapons or tools; and then finally, both of them turn and tilt their heads to each other in a gesture of smug triumph.

More like slightly flustered, but thank you—

—‘Flustered’?

It’s what happens when a person’s annoyed, confused, or both. Continue.

All right…

This is one thought you don’t want to fixate on too strongly, because you already have a feeling that you might end up worrying yourself sick if you don’t pull yourself together first. No, it’ll be better for the both of you if you have work like this to focus on instead, and for this reason, you add a third page.

…First item, a blaster pistol of my own making, about twenty-five years old with a slim wooden handle. Second item—

—Wait, what’s a blaster?

You’ve never seen a blaster before?

I’ve never seen a war before. Care to describe it?

There’s a small pause between writing, almost as though he’s stopping to think or else let out a sigh of frustration—then your next set of directions comes.

All right, look. I don’t want to take all day, and I’m guessing you have plans, so let’s keep it simple. Put your hand flat out in front of you.

As for you, you’re left raising both eyebrows before doing as you’re asked, though not without feeling just a little bit silly.

Now, take the last two fingers on whatever hand you’ve picked, and curl them in towards you.

Another curious direction, to be sure…yet you obey that one as well.

And finally, once you’re ready, raise your remaining three fingers up and act like you’re shooting the wall.

Once you’ve fully caught on to this particular mental image, however, that’s when you almost drop your writing equipment out of shock.

…Heck.

Nasty thing, isn’t it?

Wow, you think?!

Try spending twenty years with one of those aimed at you, and you’ll get what war is.

Whatever you say, CJ…

You let out an annoyed huff of your own before adding a fourth page to your document, somewhat feeling as though you might cut this conversation off if it gets too—well, wild. As someone who still knows precious little about the one you’re writing to, you certainly count this idea as a possibility.

…Any other weapons I need to know about?

‘CJ’?

Those are your initials, silly. Think of it like a nickname if that’s easier.

Hm…

Another small pause. He seems to be taking his time figuring out what to make of you as well, or so the slow pacing of this ‘meeting’ suggests to you.

…Anyways. As I was saying, second item, fairly unused Lightsaber as I prefer the blaster.

I suppose that's like a knife?

If you want to make comparisons, yes. It's got a thin, metallic hilt and so far, it's powered by a green colored stone somewhere in there.

Right...thin hilt, green stone. What else?

Brown jacket with gray stripes on the sleeves and collar. That’s the third item I’m missing.

And the fourth?

It’s sewn inside the third. In fact, if you have a chance, I’d prefer to recover both of them before we find the others.

So it’s all a big mystery for you to solve, then. Some off-the-wall version of the Great Party Icebreaker to endear you to The New Guy In The Office, provided as always that you don’t end up contracting Foot-In-Your-Mouth Disease.

Ah, well...your nights at home, totally alone, were getting a little boring anyway.

Very good...so you’re in a holding cell right now, I assume?

Obviously.

What are you being charged with?

A fifth page. Gods, this file’s getting a little big, or so you’re all too happy to tell yourself as nobody else can see the awkward look on your face right now.

Nobody’s bothered to tell me.

Have you been provided any legal counsel?

What’s that?

And yet, as awkward as all of this feels, you’ve definitely got your work cut out for you. Work that involves making sure that any possible trial moves forward without a hitch, because with a suspect as high-profile as this one, there’s no way anybody will want to risk the case being thrown out.

A pity they don’t make Lawyer Droids for this exact purpose.

Nevertheless, with the three words ‘MUST. FIND. LEGAL COUNSEL.’ written on the imaginary wall in your mind, you’re still pushing yourself onward just a bit further, as you’re more or less feeling that you’re too far in to turn back now.

Okay...just a few more things before we wrap things up here.

Go on.

Firstly...why me? And—and what was it that happened out there on the landing pad?

A third pause. He’s either taking his time finding the right words to answer you with, or else to cook up a pretty plausible lie with which to keep you occupied. Strange how the one seems so much like the other, at least at this moment in time.

I...don’t really know for sure.

‘Don’t know’? You don’t know if you have some special talent, or you don’t know why your special talent reacted the way it did?

Both. Neither. It’s as crazy to me as it is to you.

Fine…

You’ll be sure to find out what’s really taking place here, though, if there’s any way to get in touch with the people—or droids—who took him into custody. You might also try poking around the local library later this week, if there’s any chance at all that there might be some hint of your new life situation to read up on.

As for how the little crew he traveled with might figure into this, a fact that you’re far too keen to forget about even as you add a sixth page to this file—

And the last thing you wanted to ask me?

Simple…do your traveling companions know where you are?

—You’re working on it. Maybe you’ll have to get parental consent before questioning them. Maybe they’ll instead show up on your doorstep one day, hands full of dataries and voices full of pleading, totally ready to cooperate and compensate you for your time in one go. Either way, they’re witnesses.

When it comes to whether or not Crimson Jack himself will help his case or harm it, well...that concept just isn’t as clear. In fact, he very nearly confuses you with no pauses, awkward silences, or hesitations of any kind.

Just a slowly written No, almost as though just thinking about this part is too painful.

As for you, you can still remember how scared those kids were at the mere thought of him being harmed by the security droids...so it’s more than just a little bit understandable. Whatever else happened up there, whatever blaster fights, lightsaber duels, or anything else that this group saw...they must have had some time to bond.

But you’d like to see them, right?

YES.

Good. I won’t waste any time if I can help it, but I will need you to give me something in return first.

And that is…?

Your true name.

And if you have any grasp upon this stranger’s character, which you hope very much that you do—that bond just might be the key to saving old Crimson Jack’s life.

TO BE CONTINUED

[thecoffeelorian]

Looks like I'm not the only one writing Jod X Reader fanfiction at work after all...why yes, this IS my anti-capitalist icon, so glad you asked...

[thecoffeelorian]

The Anomaly Series, Chapter 4: Republic's Honor (Jod Na Nawood x Reader)

A/N: This story remains Canon Divergent, as there are some topics that I'm not gonna even begin to unpack, let alone attempt to handwave away. 'Nuff said.

Chapter Title: Republic's Honor

Genre: Drama/Romance; Slow Burn; Obvious Canon Divergence.

Word Count: 1,059 words.

AO3: Click Here!

Master List: Click Here!

CW: There will be mentions of trespassing, traveling without documents, and a secondary plotline of interviewing child witnesses to a crime...so from this moment forward, reader discretion is advised.

Special Notes: As I'm not yet sure how I even begin to breach the topic of child abuse here...let's just do the safe thing and label this as 'Spoilers up to Episode 4'. Also, the chapter divider was made by the lovely @saradika.

No Pressure Tags:

@chenoa-devyn-blog @not-approvedtrash @lulalovez @deepestballoonllama-fandoms @papa-poutine

@xbeyondthegatex @bridge-always @loverdjudeforever @kucharka23 @khaleesihavilliard

@xitlalli2001 @braveincafleet @amawu23 @gun-roswell @bruceewayne

@shirley-girly @cloudofpinkicecream @lokigirlszendaya @valdasha @aemondvelaryon

@carry-on-wayward-daughter @pantasticalcat @robin-hyperfixates @hey-x-jude @sydneyann623

@brookeandherfandoms @kazunish @redermraven @ladyofthelakee @nightlordsvengence

@tarboo13 @badbatchposts @trinsghost @racheldon @seekerbear90 and anybody else who wonders what romance would look like for this hot mess of a man. :D

At this point, you’re certainly willing to stay positive. In fact, you’d love nothing more than to let yourself believe that he’ll reveal his true self without any hesitation. Just a few simple words remain standing between the two of you, and then, perhaps once those words are spoken, you can start getting the true measure of this stranger.

That’s the best case scenario that you’re already building in your head.

Unfortunately, it also seems to be the most short-lived one, for “C.J.”—the nickname you’ve bestowed upon him—doesn’t hesitate to cut this idea of yours to ribbons.

Find out where all my belongings are, and then I’ll consider it. Fare ye well.

“What—?”

You probably shouldn’t give up so quickly, though, right…? No, it’s a much smarter plan to hastily scribble out a Hold on in response, the best words you can think to use as part of the negotiation process—yet whether it’s an unspoken signal that this chat of yours is now closed, or he’s just decided to be a thorn in your side, that last sentence of yours vanishes from the page.

In other words, your first unofficial client is officially done talking to you.

“Oh, you laserbrain.”

As odd as this all seems to you, though—the sudden appearance of this man out of a literal nowhere, the dangerous vibe surrounding his arrival, the surprising reluctance of the kids to letting him go, and the unexpected connection he’s decided to make with you—you’re beginning to know for a fact that you’re not at all done with him.

“I guess you’ll just have to talk to me tomorrow, won’t you…?”

And whether or not this “Crimson Jack” is ready to acknowledge it, he's about to start seeing a lot more of you in the days to come.

“After all…I just might be the best chance you have at saving your own skin.”

The next workday falls upon you almost with a vengeance, for along with the usual holo-work that comes with running a small city, there’s now the added tension of dealing with what you can only currently describe as a trespasser. A trespasser who's also your planet’s first undocumented traveler…though that’s one can of worms you’re just not ready to open yet.

Instead, in order to put whatever binding charges he's going to have against him in a foolproof box, you first have to have individual meetings with all four of his ‘crew members’...

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

...And on this particular day, you’re starting with your boss’ daughter...whether she wants to or not.

“What the heck is this, Y/n? ‘Threatened with physical harm’? ‘Forced his way onboard’?”

“Fern.”

“You're making it sound like he hijacked our ship. That's not what happened.”

“Fern. You've just spent gods know how many rotations off in gods know where—”

“—Fifteen."

“And you've also been surrounded by the most violent criminals in the entire galaxy, one of which decided to sneak back here with you—”

“—Because the bounty hunters were after him!”

“Honey, we can't just let anyone in trouble come to our planet,” Fara interjects, her voice changing from that of Madam Undersecretary to Concerned Mother. “How did he even get on board in the first place?”

“Easy. We distracted the guards so he could slip in and hide.”

“And you're sure that he didn't threaten you or anyone else first?”

“No. 33 would have torn him apart if he tried.”

“33...? Who's that?”

In response to your question, Fern reaches for the somewhat battered traveling bag sitting beside her on the table; then, with what you can only describe as a sad look, pulls out the severely damaged head of what must once have been a very large droid. A droid who, truth be told, looks somewhat like it's seen better days.

“This was 33. He got this way because he stopped Jod's old crew from blasting us—but he'll be all right.”

Her sadness turns to slight optimism, which you can only hope is a good sign of her resilience to whatever went on Up There.

“Me and KB can just fix him up again...um...if she's not hurt herself.”

Jod, is it...?

As for you, you're making several mental notes for the case to come, as you're already certain that you're going to need them in the near future. Notes about KB's welfare, notes about droids, and probably even notes about dangerous former colleagues—and yet, somehow without even asking, you've got a clue to your mystery man's true identity.

Perhaps you can dangle this clue over his head later on, and therefore see if he confesses outright, or else tries to dance stupidly around the issue like some linderling’s battle droid. In the meantime, though—

“—That’s okay, right? We can keep him in the garage, and everything?”

“Now, Fern—”

“—Please, Mom. I’ve been away from home for so, so long, and we’ve already bonded…”

Fern expertly puts on her Pleading Daughter Face, one of the tried and true methods she keeps in her arsenal in order to get what she wants.

“...Don’t you think having him around would help me adjust better?”

Clearly, whether or not this particular creation can count as a living being, she’s grown attached to it during her time away.

Shame you might never have an experience like that.

Nevertheless, you don’t think twice about flashing Madam Undersecretary a “Why not?” look, as you’re somewhat certain that a single droid head shouldn’t be able to do too much damage. Especially one that currently lacks working limbs, teeth, and anything else that could potentially do harm.

And, luckily for the both of you, it’s not all that long before Fara buckles under the weight of your collective emotions, her usual will of durasteel giving way to a rare moment of softness.

“All right, all right! Just…promise me you’ll call for help if he malfunctions, okay?”

In return, Fern never thinks twice about delivering a tiny salute, something that gives you a pang of sisterly pride after being able to watch her grow from a distance. Whatever’s in store for the three of you, perhaps at least she'll be able to get a handle on things fairly early.

“Republic’s Honor, Mom!”

“That’s my girl. Now…let’s get back to business.”