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reluctant-mandalore · 7 months

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🍂 Fictober 🍂 Day 1: Cold Weather (Din Djarin x gn!Reader)

During the chilly fall season on a new planet, you go on an afternoon outing with the Mandalorian and his son. Though of course you forgot your coat.

Warnings: Fluff, found family, crushes, pre-relationship, little bit of flirting, not beta read Word Count: 1771 Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader a/n: I slept for most of the first day and then my back was achy when I was trying to edit this. So its late. But it's here. And thats all that matters. Enjoy a fall afternoon outing with our fave clan of two. Day 2's prompt should be out later today (hopefully lmao).

“Grogu, we’ve been over this, you need to wear your coat.”

The child had huffed at the Mandalorian’s words. His large ears lowering, as he frowned and shook his head. You had watched them be trapped in this standoff for quite some time now. Neither father nor son wanted to budge. It was starting to get colder on this planet in recent days. But despite the chill—and despite his fathers lecturing—the little one had been determined to take his coat off any chance he got.

This had been his third time taking off the coat while hoping that neither of you would notice. Din had always been overprotective though, and he had been even more observant. He always had a keen eye for noticing these things, and there was nothing the child—or you—could seem to get past him.

“It’s getting colder out, and I don’t want you getting sick.” Din had tried reasoning with him. “You don’t want to get sick. Right kid?”

Grogu had huffed again. He pouted up to his father before trying to look past him over to you sitting on the bench nearby. Clearly he hoped to rally in your support to his losing battle, and most days those wide pleading eyes of his would convince you to his side in a heartbeat. Unfortunately for the child though, today you found yourself agreeing with the Mandalorian. As you had also caught yourself wishing you had remembered to bring your own coat this chilly afternoon.

Discovering that you wouldn’t be helping him, Grogu had huffed one more time, before finally allowing Din to bundle him back in the coat. The pout he wore as his father buttoned him up making you want to chuckle.

“See? It’s not so bad.” Din had patted the little one’s head after he finished with the last button. Although Grogu only sent a frown back his way, before toddling off back to the leaf pile he was playing in earlier.

The Mandalorian had watched Grogu from where he kneeled for a moment. Though soon he had stood to come back and sit next to you on the bench. He had given you a small nod as he sat, and you had returned it with your own smile. A comfortable silence had fallen between you two then, as you watched the child explore and play in the little clearing. Despite not being pleased with the coat he wore, Grogu still seemed to be enjoying himself at least. He had been throwing leaves here and there. Giggling and laughing to himself as he did so.

“I don’t understand why he doesn’t want to wear it.” After some time Din had been the first to speak, as he shifted a bit awkwardly next to you. “He was so happy picking it out in the market a few days ago, but now he wants nothing to do with it.”

You gave him a shrug. “He’s probably just not used to it—that’s all—give him some time.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, sometimes kids are just picky with these things.” You said smiling again as you watched the child chase down a frog, struggling to keep up in his puffy jacket. “He’ll get used to it eventually.”

Din had let out a bitter sigh, but you could hear the smile in his words. “Yeah you’re right.”

“I usually am.”

He had snorted at that reply, and quickly the two of you fell back into silence. The only sound once again being that of the child's happy geal and the birds singing their sweet tunes. Another breeze had swept through, rustling the leaves and sending an icy chill to roll down your spine. Once again you had found yourself wishing you hadn’t forgotten your own coat, as you shivered and shuddered with every gust of wind that passed.

“Cold?” Din’s question had nearly made you jump, and you looked over to find him looking at you with a tilt of his helmet.

“A little.” You admitted with another shiver, now feeling a bit embarrassed while under the Mandalorian’s gaze. “I honestly didn’t think it would be this cold when we left earlier.”

He had hummed in understanding and went back to watching the child for a moment. You went back to doing so as well. Thinking that had been the end of the discussion, though soon the heavy weight that rested over your shoulders proved otherwise. The cape—his cape—that he tucked around your shivering form had enveloped you in an instant warmth. The cozy fabric making itself the perfect barrier for you from cold.

No wonder he wore this thing all the time—it was stylish and warm.

“There.” He murmured in a hushed tone, as he smoothed out some of the wrinkles in the fabric, and adjusted it around you a little more snuggly. “That should help you stay warm.”

“Thank you.” Your voice had struggled to speak, as you couldn’t help but feel yourself grow shy.

Din had been so close to you as he fixed the cape. His leg had brushed with yours at every movement, and if it weren’t for the helmet that shielded his face, you would have felt how his breath fanned your cheeks. He hadn’t seemed to realize it though until the two of you shared a glance. Your eyes locked to one another, and mere inches apart. Only then did he seem to catch himself. Clearing his throat as he pulled away and averted his gaze. A mumbled apology quickly leaving him as he did.

“Keep it till we get back.” He didn’t dare look at you as he spoke, crossing his arms over his chest awkwardly. Although you couldn’t help but notice how his leg still seemed to brush with yours every now and then. “I don’t need you getting sick either.”

You only nodded. Smiling to yourself a little, and snuggling further into the cape. Your heart feeling like it would jump out of your chest at any moment.

“You know…” He continued quietly, his voice trailing and words a bit teasing, as he had looked at you from the corner of his eye with the tilt of his helmet. “You’re just like the kid with not wanting to wear a coat.”

You gave a little laugh at his words, unable to deny his claim. “Guess I’m a bad influence then, huh?”

“No. I wouldn’t say that.” He shook his head while giving a small chuckle himself, and glancing away from you to watch the child again. “I’d say the opposite actually. You’re a great influence on the kid.”

“You think so?”

“Of course! He adores you…” Din had almost seemed to pause in thought before allowing himself to finish. “We both adore you. Things wouldn’t be the same without you around.”

There was another flutter in your chest at his words, and suddenly it wasn’t just the cape that gave you warmth. The two of you had looked to one another, unable to stop yourselves from leaning closer, as the air between you had seemed to shift. It had been hard to deny the feelings that both of you were beginning to feel for one another lately. And moments like these had only seemed to make it even harder.

“Patuu!”

The sound from Grogu had broken you both from the trance, and you both looked to find him standing before you two now. The smile he wore bright, as he held out his hands for you to see what he had found. It had been acorns—of course—the child had been fascinated with them since arriving to this planet.

“Oh! Is this for me?” The child had beamed up at you at the question when you realized he held one out to you, and with a smile you took the acorn. “What a lovely little acorn! Thank you Grogu.”

Grogu had let out a happy noise at your acceptance of his gift. His eyes bright with excitement as he watched you look over the acorn. Pleased with seeing your approval, he glanced at the other acorn still in his hand, and then looked to the Mandalorian at your side.

“Do I get one too?” Din seemed to perk up, but any hope he had died quickly as Grogu soon sent a glare his way at the question, before turning to waddle rather grumpily away back to his leaf pile.

“I think he’s still mad about the coat.” You barely managed to stop the laugh that threatened to spill from your lips at the sight.

“Yeah.” The Mandalorian almost sounded like he had been pouting, and based on how his shoulders had sunk you wouldn’t put him past it. “I guess he is”

“Oh don’t worry Din.” You patted his shoulder gently. Trying to reassure him.“He’ll forgive you soon.”

“He can be pretty stubborn.” He mumbled back. Sounding utterly defeated.

You gave a teasing hum. Nudging him with your arm a little. “He’s just like his dad then.”

“I’m not stubborn.” He had tried to argue, but any defense he had fell quickly at the look you sent his way. “I’m only stubborn when I need to be.”

The two of you shared another small laugh at that before falling back into that familiar silence and watching over the child play. The three of you would spend the rest of the afternoon out there. Only leaving when Din would finally decide it had been time to pack up, and head back to the ships. Grogu had almost fought with him over it, but unlike with the coat, he had quickly been won over with the promise of food.

Though it wouldn’t be until the next day where the little one would finally seem to have forgiven his father. This time when you three went to leave for the afternoon outing he did not fight the Mandalorian over the coat. Instead he let his father bundle him up with little complaint. Babbling in bits of gibberish, and pulling out the acorn he had found the other day. Handing it to Din with a bright smile before immediately waddling off in the direction of the clearing.

“See, Din?” You smiled at him, as you both began walking to follow behind the child. “I told you he’d forgive you.”

He had looked over the acorn. The smile he wore hidden behind the helmet. “Yeah, you were right.”

“I usually am.” You had gone to laugh, but an icy breeze had swept through as you spoke, and instead you could only seem to shiver while Din had chuckled.

Of course you had forgotten your coat again.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x gn!reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #star wars fanfic #my fics #reader fic #cy's fictober 2023 #mandalorian fanfic #fanfic #fictober #fictober2023

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tangleweave · 2 years

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Truth and Consequences

Fictober 2022 - [ Prompt 18 ]

{ Fanfiction: Star Wars (KOTOR II) }

“I met someone on Nar Shaddaa who says he knows you.”

Atton doesn’t even glance up from the console, but a scoff erupts from between his teeth. “Yeah? That’s a surprise, since I can’t say I really know anyone there.”

“Wed Mikpokaq.”

The gunslinger’s fingers had been in the midst of keystroke inputs, but he hesitates for half a moment before continuing his sequence. “Let me guess, he said I owe him money, too.”

“He says that you’re not ‘Atton’ at all. That you showed up on Nar Shaddaa during the Jedi Civil War.”

The pilot’s eyes flash, and he turns in his seat to face his anonymous companion. “I’m as Atton as Atton will ever be,” he snaps, “but since we’re going here, you caught me, he’s right, I did show up on Nar Shaddaa during the Jedi Civil War. Me and a lot of other refugees.”

The other remains impassive. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

Atton’s eyes narrow. “No, because you’re asking about it – if I wanted to tell you anything, I would have come and told you. Anything else?”

“You seem terribly on edge for having been approached with hearsay. And you’ve been curiously avoidant of discussing anything about yourself before we met.”

Atton gets to his feet, though he shifts gingerly past the Force-sensitive traveler as he makes his way to the navigational panel. He keeps his eyes directed away from the other. “Is this an interrogation? If so, you’re terrible at it, especially for an ex-Jedi – or whatever you are.” Now he shoots a glare across the cockpit. “Why don’t you just crawl in my head and try to dig out whatever you’re looking for rather than asking about it?”

“Because I know better than to think of you as weak-minded.” Thick-gloved hands settle on hips as an icy stare meets Atton in reply. “And if you’ve got a problem, let’s settle it right now.”

Atton blows an irritated breath out through his teeth. “You know what?” He steps close and directs a finger into the exile’s face. “I helped you get off Peragus. If I hadn’t been there, you wouldn’t have even gotten off the administration level. And I’m still trying to help you now, but you’re making me wonder why I’m bothering.”

The exile’s face is maddeningly placid. “With or without your help on Peragus, the Sith still would have come to capture me.”

Atton scowls. There’s little he hates more than a fact he can’t challenge. “Yeah, well… I – I still helped you. Sort of.” He takes a step back and straightens his jacket. “Maybe you shouldn’t look a free ronto in the mouth before you buy it.” His business concluded at the star chart readout, he steps back towards the pilot’s seat.

“You should if a Hutt is giving it to you.”

Now he rounds on the exile, eyes burning and voice thick with contempt. “Hey, not once have I asked you about the Mandalorian Wars. Not… once.” He clutches the head cushion of his chair until his knuckles turn white. “I know about Dxun. I know about Serroco, and I sure as hell heard about Malachor V.” Normally he would let that point hang heavy in the air, but he’s on too much of a furious roll to stop. “So, what makes you think you’ve got the right to interrogate me on anything? You’ve got plenty of lives to answer for.” He sneers as he sits down and turns away from his companion, knowing full well the risk he takes in doing so. “All you Jedi do.”

Though Atton bites the title off as a slur rather than an honorific, and though it is a title the exile has been plain about having renounced, it slides without comment or challenge. It is clear to the former Jedi that just this mere line of questioning has somehow struck Atton to the heart, pierced it as though upon a lightsaber blade and reduced it to so much sweet smoke and ash.

“If there’s something you want me to answer for… then perhaps you should start by asking questions.”

Atoon spins around in his chair again. His gaze is nothing short of baleful. “Fine,” he snaps. “Fine. Here, let’s start with this. How did you even live with yourself after Malachor?”

The exile’s lips purse, a gesture followed by a head bow and a soft reply. “It wasn’t easy.”

“Oh, yes, not easy. It wasn’t easy for you. I’m sure it wasn’t.” Atton leans forward in his seat, intent on pressing his advantage in passion. “Is that why you went back to the Jedi Council? Hoping they’d kill you?”

The Force-sensitive’s eyes flicker towards the pilot. “It wasn’t like that.”

The feeble protest only drew more heat from Atton. “Wasn’t it? Maybe you thought they’d forgive you – or maybe you thought they’d execute you. But Jedi don’t kill, do they? At least, not their prisoners. Maybe you were counting on that when you went back in chains. So you got off easy. Exiled, brushed under the cargo ramp, another dirty little Jedi secret.”

His eyes become slits. “I’ll tell you this – all those Jedi at Malachor? They deserved it. Every last one of them.”

That draws a sharp breath from beneath the Force-sensitive’s hood. What emerges next is little more than a whisper. “They did not deserve it. Why would you even say that?”

Atton feels a surge of twisted triumph coursing through his veins as he stands up. Beside his companion, he might be equal height, give or take a couple centimeters, but their eyes are at the same level, and he stares unblinkingly into those stricken pools. “Because Jedi lie,” he charges. “And they manipulate. And every act of charity or kindness they do? You can drag it out squirming into the light and see it for what it is. The galaxy doesn’t need Jedi arrogance or Jedi hypocrisy anymore.”

The anonymous exile’s breath shudders out between them. “The Jedi Order was misguided… but the Jedi always meant to be guardians of peace.”

“Oh, come off it,” Atton scoffs. “Listen to yourself. The Jedi… the Sith… to the galaxy, they’re the same thing: just men and women with too much power, squabbling over religion, while the rest of us burn. At least the Sith are honest about what they’re killing for. They come to conquer. Obey or die. The Jedi? The Jedi are pacifists… except in times of war. They’re teachers… except when it comes to telling their students the truth. And when they save you, it’s only so they can see you suffer more.”

The traveler’s eyes burn with unshed tears. “Perhaps that is what you believe, but it is not my truth.”

“I can’t wait to hear what your truth is,” the scoundrel scoffs.

“My truth is… I pity you, Atton, that you should still harbor such embitterment and hatred, so long after those you deemed your enemies have perished. And I am no Jedi… not just because of what happened at Malachor, but for all that came before it. I returned to the Council to answer for my actions, and to renounce what would have been taken from me in any event. Perhaps I wished for death. I can no longer recall. Instead, I endure, and that is all I have left.”

Atton clenches his teeth. If there is anything he hates more than logic, it’s a person who refuses to be baited. Maybe he should simply drive his fist into the exile’s face and see if that would provoke a reaction. It would be so easy…

But instead, he rolls his eyes and steps back. “Whatever – just leave me alone. I don’t know why I’m wasting time with you anyway.”

He slumps back into the pilot’s seat, turning his gaze to the starscape before them. He can feel a tightness in his chest that tells him he’s run a marathon in this conversation alone… and he no longer feels that momentary satisfaction he got from seeing the tears in the exile’s eyes. Not a one had been released.

Maybe there’s just not enough left to give.

In the stifling quiet of the cockpit, Atton hears the exile’s voice lift over the hum of the engines. “You speak of your contempt for the Jedi who perished at Malachor V but you stop short of wishing the same fate for me. You deride Jedi pacifism, which tells me you held the Order in contempt for staying our ranks when the Mandalorian Wars threatened the Outer Rim… yet you say those Jedi who answered the call to action in defense of those territories deserved grisly death. You call Jedi arrogant and hypocritical, but are these features not systemic of any assemblage of beings which would dare to promote something greater than its constituent parts?”

Atton leans forward, arms parallel to one another as he grips the top of the console, and he hovers the tip of his nose above the screen, nearly huddling. “I’m sure you’re gonna tell me what you’re driving at.”

“It would be a terrible convenience if everything you claim about the Jedi were objectively true. If all is as you see it. But I believe you realize, because you must… that reality is far different from what you wish it to be. Moreover… as I examine it, nothing of which the Jedi stand accused in your tirade has any bearing on your past, save that you were a refugee during the Jedi Civil War. And for reasons I cannot discern, you remain a steadfast companion to me in my travels despite your contempt for my history… and my so-called ‘interrogations’.”

“Yeah, well, when you don’t have anywhere else to go…”

“No, Atton. It is more than that. It must be. The Jedi Order was arrogant, and terrible prices were paid by many who could not afford the coin. The atrocity of Malachor V is upon my shoulders… but…” The exile trails off.

The pilot frowns and lifts his head. “But what?”

“I don’t think this is your problem.”

Atton’s frown deepens at that remark. And he struggles for several moments to think of something to say in reply.

But even before he can begin to put any words together, the exile has already left the cockpit.

~*~

#fictober22 #fictober 2022 #star wars #drabble #kotor #the sith lords #atton rand #jedi #sith #exile #writing

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captainsophiestark · 2 years

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Exciting News ✨

Since tomorrow marks the start of Fictober, I wanted to share with y’all that my goal this year is to write a fic for every prompt/day of the month! I’m currently a little over halfway through writing them all, so expect lots of new content and fics in the month of October from me! If you want to see a specific character, there’s still some slots open for prompt requests. Just check my pinned post if you’re interested! Happy Fictober Eve everyone!

#sophie speaks #Fictober #marvel fanfiction #the vampire diaries fanfiction #the originals fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #agent carter fanfiction #agents of shield fanfiction #percy jackson fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #fantastic beasts fanfiction #star trek fanfiction

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sk-willow · 2 years

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One-Shots del Star Wars Fictober 2021, Días 12 a 21. pt 02

Link a Wattpad

Link a Ao3

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rhosmeinir · 6 months

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Fictober 2023 #28

Prompt #28: “I may not get another chance to say this.”

Fanfiction: Good Omens

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands/Aziracrow

Other Notes: In which Aziraphale and Crowley share a quiet moment, just before the Fall. 542 words!

The cell’s bars seemed to emit a faint hum as they glowed, a crackle that disrupted and distorted their edges, making it clear that if one were to touch them, it would be something to regret. The reheaded angel within sighed deeply, slumped over on the benchlike seat protruding from one wall, elbows on his knees. His robes were tattered and torn, singed here and there, and his hair straggled as it hung down over his eyes. Footsteps approached, then halted before his cell. He sighed again.

“Is it time?”

“No— no, I just came down to.. to say hello.”

Aziraphale.

The redheaded angel looked up, and Aziraphale could see that his cheek was red and swollen. An injured angel; something Heaven had never seen before. The defeat in those dark eyes made him gulp. It was so unlike the angel he knew to wear such an expression, and Aziraphale wished there was something he could say to help.

“Won’t you get in trouble?” The redheaded angel rose and crossed to the bars, folding his arms over his chest. “You probably shouldn’t really be down here.”

“I mean, well,” Aziraphale fiddled with his hands anxiously, “We won. Everyone’s either celebrating or sitting in council. Er.” He stopped speaking abruptly, for the councils some of his fellow angels were sitting in were the ones deciding that fates of the prisoners in these cells. The captured rebels, spoils of the Great War. The redheaded angel laughed bitterly.

“Won. Nobody’s won, Aziraphale. Just because Lucifer’s been cast out doesn’t mean Heaven’s won. I think it’s all going to get lot worse, once they’re finished getting rid of anyone who dares to ask questions.”

“But, they might not!” Aziraphale interjected, “they might take you back, you know, recognize that you were being influenced and give you another chance. You did make the stars, after all, they wouldn’t throw you out that easily.” The redheaded angel knew Aziraphale was trying to make him feel better, and allowed himself a small smile, even as he shook his head.

“That’s the thing, cherub. Stars are made. They don’t need me anymore. And they don’t want to answer my questions. Shedoesn’t want to answer my questions.” Aziraphale bit his lip, left without anything else optimistic to say. They looked at each other in silence for a moment. Then, the redheaded angel took in a deep breath and spoke again.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s going to happen when they come for me, but it’s not going to be good. I may not get another chance to say this, so,” very carefully, he threaded his arms between the buzzing bars, and held out his hands to Aziraphale, who took them. He squeezed firmly, looking into the blond angel’s desperate blue eyes. “Thank you for being my friend, Aziraphale. I know it hasn’t always been easy.” Aziraphale squeezed back.

“It’s been my honor, Starmaker.” The redheaded angel snorted lightly.

“You probably shouldn’t call me that anymore.”

“Then, what should I call you?” Aziraphale asked, somehow sure that the redheaded angel’s name was not the correct answer. His friend laughed, with humor this time, and drew his hands back inside the cell.

“If I ever see you again, I’ll let you know.”

#fictober23 #fictober #good omens #gomens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #fanfiction #fanfic

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allzelemonz · 2 years

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Masterlist

Updated: 3/17/24

Events

Kinktober 2021, Kinktober 2022, Tropesgiving 2022, 12 Days of AU 2022, Fictober 2023

The Big Bang Theory

Howard Wolowitz, Leonard Hofstadter, Rajesh Koothrappali, Sheldon Cooper, Stuart Bloom, Barry Kripke

Criminal Minds

David Rossi, Spencer Reid

Danny Phantom

Freakshow, Vlad Masters

Edward Nashton (Batman 2022), Edward Nygma (Gotham), Eobard Thawne (CW), Henry King Sr (CW), Jervis Tetch (Gotham), John Constantine (CW), Jordan Mahkent (CW), Lex Luthor (CW), Oswald Cobblepot (Gotham)

Detroit: Become Human

Conner

Disney

Frank Bickle, Douglas Davenport

Divergent

Eric Coulter

Doctor Who

The Master

Harry Potter

Peter Pettigrew, Tom Riddle, Severus Snape

How to Train Your Dragon

Dagur The Deranged, Snotlout Jorgenson, Viggo Grimborn

K Project

Reisi Munakata

MCU

Helmut Zemo

Merlin

Arthur Pendragon

Once Upon A Time

Rumpelstiltskin

Ouran High School Host Club

Hikaru Hitachiin, Kaoru Hitachiin, Kyoya Ootori, Takashi “Mori” Morinozuka, Tamaki Suoh

Overwatch

Ramattra

Red Dead Redemption

Abe, Arthur Morgan, Bill Williamson, Charles Smith, Colm O'Driscoll, Dutch Van der Linde, Javier Escuella, John Marston, Kieran Duffy, Micah Bell, Sean MacGuire

Star Trek

James Kirk, Pavel Chekov, Leonard McCoy, Malcolm Reed, Montgomery Scott, Spock

Star Wars

Amitage Hux, Commander CodyCrosshair, Darth Maul, Mitth'raw'nuruodo (Thrawn), Obi-Wan Kenobi

The Walking Dead

Axel, Merle Dixon, Milton Mamet, Simon

The Umbrella Academy

Axel, Oscar, Otto

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agent-troi · 6 months

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WIP game

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs

Thanks for the tag @cutemothman!🫶🏻

I don't usually leave fics unfinished so I don't have very many WIPs (I do have many many fic ideas that I have yet to give any shape or form to lmao) but anyway here you go:

Love Unforgotten (Riker/Troi fic)

For War Alone (Star Trek novel-verse fic, I posted one chapter and promptly ran out of motivation to write it lol)

Security Questions (MSR, active WIP that I'm working on for Fictober so I'm gonna finish this one!!)

Writing workshop 5.19.23 (MSR, three snippets I may or may not eventually flesh out into whole fics)

tagging @katy-kt-katie @tofuttim @mollybecameanengineer @maybe-its-beyond-words

#tag game #wip game #fic writing #x files fanfic #star trek fanfiction

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myevilmouse · 7 months

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Hey everyone! It's that time of year again! Due to real life demands, I'm only tackling one prompt a day for my drabbles this year. You know the drill by now, I pull from @fictober-event, @angstober, @whumptober, @flufftober, @kinktober2023, @inktober, and all the other October events on tumblr to inspire 100 words, Star Wars related, for your reading pleasure. I have a lot going on this month but will do my best to deliver you a drabble a day, and hope you enjoy. Thanks everyone for reading and all the support each year!

Let's get started!!!

#evilmousetober23 #myfic #drabbles #fanfic #i'll tumblr for ya #writing prompt #let's gooooooo

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reluctant-mandalore · 5 months

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Fictober Day 2: Dancing

After a job Boba and Ann go to celebrate at a cantina. Ann is into dancing, Boba is into watching.

Warnings: established relationship (sort of its complicated), alcohol consumption, references to sex (none is actually described or shown), fluff, flirting, set pre-sarlacc, soft boba, hint of jealous Boba, aro4aro relationship, not beta read Pairing: Boba Fett x Original Character (oc: Anneliese LeClaire) Wordcount: 3,433 a/n: "hey cy did you know its December-" shhhh time is an illusion. And I am slowly working back into writing more often (mental illness is a bitch). Also this is my first time actually posting a fic for Ann and Boba. Sometime next year I would like to finally begin posting the official longfic I've been working on for them, but till then y'all will get some one shots here and there. Important things to note: Ann and Boba are both written as aro and they're in an aro4aro relationship. Ann is taller (5'10) then Boba, I wrote Boba as being 5'7 (based off Temuera's height). This one shot is also set pre-sarlacc, some years before he falls in. Ok thats it. Enjoy boba being soft and sweet with ann. :3 Translations: Mesh'la = Beatuiful, Permacrete = concrete

The cantina has an awful smell. It’s an atrocious blend of booze and sweat that makes his nose scrunch with disgust. Though the music is somehow worse. It's too loud in his ears, blasting its obnoxious tunes while the colourful lights above flash to its beat. This place is more of a nightclub than a regular old cantina in his opinion. Neither of which he really enjoys on a good day if he’s honest, but still he sits there anyway. A cup of whiskey is in his hand, and his helmet set to the side, while his eyes are trained on nothing but her.

Ann is on the dance floor. There’s a smile on her face, and her own drink in hand. Her body moves and sways to the tunes almost naturally. Weaving among the others on the floor like there’s nowhere else she belongs.

She almost seems to thrive here. Unlike him who seems out of place, and preferring to sit in a dark corner at a lonely table. He just doesn’t understand the appeal that places like this give. He really isn’t a fan of blaring music and sweaty bodies in his personal space bumping together. Unless it's among the sheets at least—and even that he’s only fond of sometimes.

It doesn’t take long for someone to take an interest in her. Someone other than Boba of course. Someone always does when they come to these places. And he can feel himself pause mid-sip, as he watches the person move in closer to her. A bit too close for his liking. The two of them begin to dance together rather than alone, and he can’t help but watch a little more intensely now as they do. A pit of jealousy bubbling in his gut that he tries his best to ignore.

Boba knows he could just look away. Knows he doesn’t have to watch. Knows he has no reason to be jealous. Dancing like this means nothing to Ann. She barely even lets the other person in close enough touch. But despite the jealousy he fails miserably to keep back, there’s also something he finds enjoyable in watching her dance. He’s not even sure what it is. Maybe it has to do with how the lights reflect in her eyes as she laughs, or how beautiful her body moves with the others around her. But maybe, it is sometime else entirely.

Maybe it's because as he watches, he imagines it's him dancing with her instead.

Ann notices him watching, because of course she does, and she gives a smile. A teasing, but tiny grin, that's meant for him alone. It's a look that calms his envious thoughts, and leaves him suddenly feeling hot under his armor. The bit of jealousy he had fading into a rolling wave of desire. He almost smiles back. Almost. But he takes another sip of his drink instead. Let’s the bittersweet taste settle on his tongue to try and wash away his thoughts.

It doesn’t really work of course. Boba goes back to watching. Goes back to wondering—dreaming—about what it would be like if he was the one with her instead. He can’t seem to stop himself. Can’t stop the thoughts of how he’d look out there with her. How close she’d be to him. How breathtaking she looks. It's all swarming there in his head. A never ending tumble of thoughts and emotions that keeps him captivated with her.

At some point the person dancing with her leans closer to whisper in her ear, and suddenly he finds himself fighting off the subtle burn of jealousy again. He doesn’t even need to hear their words to know what they’re asking of her. He can’t even blame them for trying their luck, because he knows if he was in their position he would do the same. He’d honestly be surprised if they didn’t try to get Ann to come home with them that night. Not after how gorgeous she looked dancing in the nightclub lights.

Though unlike them, at least he knows he would actually have a chance. And that thought alone is what keeps him seated in place. Helps the jealousy fade again. Reminds him that he doesn't have to worry. Not with Ann. It makes him go back to just simply watching. Waiting for the answer from her that he already knows is coming.

Ann seems to say something back to them. Something he can’t quite make out, but he figures it out quickly when the dance partner finally looks his way. He almost wants to laugh at the face they make. Their smug grin drops immediately and the colour drains from their face. Most do once they realize just who exactly she’s with. His name carries weight, and if they don’t know him by name, they know him by face. Well. Helmet. And he’s made sure that trusty bucket of his is still clearly in sight.

The rumours about them have become more prevalent as of late too. People have begun to learn about Ann and Boba being… together. So to speak. The longer they worked alongside each other, the quicker the whispers among the criminal world about them being a couple had spread. Rumours about how they were more than just work partners catching before either could stop them in their place.

Boba doesn’t know how he feels about it all. At the start he hated them. Found Ann pretty annoying. Found the whispers about them together even more annoying. She was just a work partner. A skilled bounty hunter who he respected, and found he could deal with despite the irritability she caused. That was it. That's all they were.

Now it’s different of course. They’re a thing, but they’re also not a thing. Neither of them really know what they are to the other person. Especially not Boba. Most people would probably consider them lovers, and in a sense he supposes they are right to think so, but lovers feel almost too formal. But just friends? That seems to be too little. And just work partners at this point was just insulting. The bond they shared simply couldn’t be explained as being romantic or platonic. It was different. Unique. Something he hadn’t ever had with another person before.

Boba doesn’t really know what they are, but whatever it is makes Ann his, and makes him theirs. And he supposes that’s all that really matters. At least to them. To him.

The person Ann was with has vanished by the time he looks back, and she’s already returning to the table. Sliding into the seat across from him, with her cheeks flushed and a little grin on her face. “You scared away my dance partner.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He gives her a little smile in return, and taps his finger on the table. “I’ve just been here minding my business, and sipping at my drink.”

She only hums at first. Stealing his cup right from out of his hands before taking a sip herself. He doesn’t really mind. He can’t really when he sees how her nose scrunches at the taste. A deep chuckle leaving him at the sight.

“Whiskey? Again?” She grumbles. Disgusted.

“Of course.”

“You need better taste.” She lets him take the glass back, as he hums amused at her words.

“I think my taste is just fine.” He murmurs, glancing over the rim of the drink to flicker his gaze over her form, before he goes and takes another sip. She doesn’t seem to notice his once over, or if she does she doesn’t say so. “You all tired out?”

“I think I have a few more songs left.”

“Want me to get you another drink then?” He offers, and she agrees with a nod. He waves down a waiter. Orders another one for both of them. Something sweet and just barely alcoholic for her. She’s had more than enough to drink tonight, and he’s thankful she doesn’t seem to protest at the choice he makes. When he’s done and the waiter leaves he turns back to her. “Anything else I can do for you, mesh’la?”

The nickname rolls off easily from his tongue. She doesn’t know what it means, or at least he believes she doesn’t seem to know. He wouldn't be able to bare the thought if she did. Doesn’t think he could ever handle the teasing she’d subject him to if she found out he’s been calling her beautiful this whole time. He’d honestly rather die than have to deal with that.

She seems to consider his words for a moment, before finally leaning forward to rest on her arms. Her smile bright, and almost suggestive. “Well, you could come dance with me?”

It’s a question they’re both familiar with. One she always makes sure to ask when they’re out together and she’s in a dancing mood. Though his answer never seems to change. No matter how many times they come to these places, and no matter how desperately they both want him to say yes, his reply is always the same. Always.

“No.” He shakes his head, glancing down to his almost empty drink to avoid her gaze. He really needs another with the night they’re having. “You know I don’t dance.”

She hums again. Gives a little shrug. “Suit yourself.”

And that’s that. She’s not upset or mad. It’s just simple acceptance. An understanding that only she could ever seem to have for him.

When the waiter comes back with what he ordered for them, she stays to drink a little with him. Chatting about this and that. Nothing really in particular. It isn’t until she’s done her drink where she goes to leave again. Standing, she leans in close to him. Catching him off guard. She kisses his cheek before he can begin to question her over it. Her lips grazing his ear as she whispers.

“Enjoy the show Boba.”

Then with that Ann is gone again. They’re back to the dance floor before he can say anything else. Not even giving him any chance to deny that he’s been watching her. He finds himself feeling warm under his layers again. His desire still flickering in his gut. And despite it all he does exactly as she says. He begins watching her again. He enjoys the show she puts on for him. Sipping at his drink and eyeing her up as she dances the night away.

Thankfully it’s only a few more songs before they both leave. He wasn’t sure how much more he could have handled that place if he was being honest. Even if he was enjoying watching her.

Ann and him walk back to the ship in a comfortable silence. Not a word to be exchanged. She’s leaning closer to him. Fingers brushing with his as they walk, but never daring to take his hands into hers. She would never do so in public. Always making sure to never overstep with him. Something he’s always more than appreciated.

When they finally get back to the ship Bubbles the loth cat greets them happily. Meowing and rubbing against their legs, before Ann picks him up to coo at him. They both need to shower. So he lets her go first. He usually does. Sometimes they’ll shower together, but he doesn’t think he has the energy to deal with showering with Ann tonight. He has a feeling if he does it’ll end in more than just getting clean. And as fun as that can be, his exhaustion from their earlier job, combined with the alcohol raging through his system, is now proving much stronger. Maybe another night he’ll join her, but for now he just wants to relax.

When she’s in the refresher, he starts his typical nighttime routine. He has a list of things he does before bed every day. Doesn’t feel good going to sleep unless he does it. He does a quick check of the supplies, looks at the status of the ship, and then makes sure everything is where it's supposed to be on board. Once satisfied with that he goes to his weapon racks and storage. Puts away most of what he has on him before moving on to his room to start removing his armor. Making sure to give Bubbles a pat on his head in passing.

Once Ann is done it's his turn for a shower, and he couldn’t be happier for it. The warm water brings a much needed relief to his aching muscles, and the steam seems to clear his head. He can't help but stand there under the spray for a moment. He can still smell her soap in the air. It’s some type of flower. Rose, he thinks, though he can’t really be sure. He’s not exactly a floral expert after all. But whatever it may be is unmistakably her, and it has him wanting to finish cleaning himself quickly to join her back in the other room.

Ann is on his bed when he finally gets out. She sleeps more in here with him than she ever does in her own bunk now. She’s braiding her hair at the moment, and he can’t help but notice she’s wearing one of his shirts again. Bubbles is curled next to her on the bed. Already fast asleep. His soft little purrs echoing quietly in the room.

He gets himself changed into some sleepwear. Just a simple shirt and pants. Doesn’t even bother to hide himself from her as he does. They both have already seen every inch of each other by this point. He doesn’t see the point in being shy now, and he can’t deny that he likes feeling her gaze shift to him as he dresses.

Boba spares her a glance over his shoulder, and she looks away. Acts as if she wasn’t just watching him change. It seems like he isn’t the only one who likes to watch the other, and he can’t help but smirk a little at the thought. He goes back to finishing his nightly routine after he’s done. Double checks that his armor and gear is stored away how he likes it, before doing his final round of the ship. It's like second nature at this point. The way he does this every night, and knows exactly how everything ought to be on board.

When he's back in the room again she’s now resting much more comfortably on the bed. She’s leaned back against a pillow while on her datapad. Reading probably if he were to guess. She likes reading. Does so every night before sleeping. He doesn’t dare ask what it’s about. The last time he did he had to listen to her ramble about the creation and history behind permacrete for hours. And as much as he enjoys seeing how excited she gets to talk about these things with him, he can’t say he wants to listen to something like that again right before sleeping.

Usually at this point he’d have her shift over so he can join her on the bed. It's kind of cramped if he’s honest. His sleeping compartment was clearly not meant for two people. They make it work though, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like getting to be snuggled closely to Ann every night. But tonight something stops him before he goes over. There’s a weird feeling in his gut. Like something just isn’t quite right.

Boba mentally checks off everything from his routine in his head again. He hasn’t missed anything. Doesn’t think so at least. He never misses anything. But still he can’t shake that feeling. Ann must notice his unease too. She glances up at him from the datapad. Her brows creased as she eyes him.

He decides to do another walkthrough. Maybe if he does he’ll figure out what’s wrong. But he doesn’t even get to the door of his room before he stops again. From the corner of the eye he’s caught sight of his stereo. It’s an old thing that he surprises that still works. He plays it sometimes when working around the ship. Glancing from it to Ann, who is once again back to reading whatever is on her datapad, seems to make everything click into place. Suddenly the weird feeling is beginning to make sense.

Boba doesn’t really know what’s come over him, but before he can stop himself, he’s stepping over to the stereo to turn it on. The music is slow as it starts. It’s soft, gentle, and it’s nothing like what was playing at the cantina that night. It’s exactly what he needs though, and when he looks to her again to catch her gaze, he knows it's something she needed as well.

She raises a brow at him with a little grin on her face. He doesn’t say anything. Neither does she. He just holds out a hand to her. A silent question that both of them already know the answer to.

“I thought you didn’t dance.” She teases him, but still she takes his hand. Datapad already long forgotten on the bed.

Boba only lets out a huff at her words as he pulls her close to his chest. His hands slip down to her hips, while her own go to rest on his forearm. He can’t help but give her a gentle squeeze, before they settle into the music easily. Swaying together to the beat, and bodies pressed flushed together.

The two move like this for a while. Sometimes he twirls her, and she giggles, before he pulls her back in closely. Rocking with her to a gentle beat. At some point they both look at each other. Their noses brushing before their lips finally meet. The kiss is soft. It’s sweet. The thundering of his heart is so loud in his ears, and he briefly wonders if she can hear it too. Hopes she can’t, because if she can he would never live it down. He already knows that she would tease him mercilessly for the rest of his days.

When they pull back from the kiss he allows his lips to trail down over her exposed skin. Kissing and nipping at her shoulder gently. He can’t help but nuzzle himself into the crook of her neck. Pressing another soft kiss along the scarred skin there as he does. Her shoulder quickly becoming a pillow for him to lay his head against, as he can’t help but slump against her. He feels so very tired, and she is so very comfy. His eyes are heavy, and his body is sore. He wants nothing more than to lay down with her in their bed, but he still finds himself not wanting to leave her embrace quite yet.

“Someone's tired.” She whispers with a gentle hum. Her fingers coming to brush through his still damp hair.

Boba can only seem to grunt in reply at first. They’re still dancing, though they sway more gently than before now. Only little rocking movements led by Ann that has him almost lulled to sleep against her shoulder right there. At some point they stop swaying altogether. Just standing there with him snuggled into her embrace as the music still plays softly in the background.

Boba could spend the rest of his life here he thinks. Wrapped in Ann’s arms without a care in the Galaxy. Her toying with his hair and pressing sweet little kisses to his temple. In their arms he doesn’t have to worry about anything. Not clients or targets. Not the reputation he’s built and has to uphold. Here he isn’t Boba Fett, the fearsome and notorious bounty hunter. No, here with Ann he is just Boba. He’s just himself. And that is something he can only ever comfortably be with her.

After some time there, Ann goes to pull away, but his grip holds fast. His arms around her tight. When he looks up to her he sees how she smiles again. It’s cheeky, and there’s a teasing glint to her eyes that makes him warm under her gaze.

“A little longer.” He says quietly. Mumbling as he nuzzles back into her neck. “Please.”

She only hums back at first. Presses another kiss to his temple as she does. So soft and sweet. Her voice coming out just barely above a whisper when she finally replies back to him.

“A little longer.”

And with those words from her they're swaying again.

#boba fett #boba fett x oc #boba x oc #oc fic #star wars #cys fictober #fictober2023 #cys fictober 2023 #my fics #oc things #oc: ann #boba x ann #star wars fanfic

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tangleweave · 2 years

Text

Foresight

Fictober 2022 - [ Prompt 6 ]

{ Fanfiction: Star Wars }

TW: violence, trauma

Fane Ciudat had spent some time entertaining the notion that upon the conclusion of the Clone Wars, he would eventually be able to return to his homeworld and assume a position of perhaps some honor, dignity, and nobility amongst the healers. He’d believed the fighting would eventually come to an end, one way or another, and that some semblance of peace would begin settling across the galaxy… at which time, he could finally carve out a niche for himself that would speak to both his talents and his calling.

But the shooting hadn’t stopped, or even so much as slowed, when he’d felt the agony of the Jedi sweeping across the galaxy.

He’d been stationed on a hospital colony on Cadrinda when that roiling, burning sensation had invaded his chest and stomach. Interrupted the flow of the Force through his hands and into the young soldier, barely out of his formative years and yet grasping a blaster carbine like a lifeline, when he should have been clutching the gaping wound pouring purple blood from his chest. Fane had knelt down beside the boy and directed the flow of the Force between himself and the too-young soldier… feeling his own warmth crawling from his fingers into the nameless soldier’s flesh, stitching together the ragged and burnt edges of the wound that had nearly pierced him to his heart.

All around him were others whose fates had been similarly threatened by the fighting. Not Republic clone troopers… just men and women, and more than a few boys and girls, who had answered the call to defend their homes. And the Republic had failed them by permitting war.

He would not fail them by permitting death.

And yet—

The pain. The sheer agony. Washing over him like a wave of red-hot razor blades. Piercing, slicing, ripping, burning, suffocating. He’d barely had time to withdraw his hands from the boy before falling backwards and landing prone where he’d knelt, golden eyes wide as saucers and staring at the ceiling while seeing nothing but stars and blaster fire.

And then another wave.

And another.

A riptide of them, dragging him out into an ocean of excruciation. Crushing inward, carving out his innards and laying him open for any and all to see…

Fane sat bolt upright on the forest floor, chest heaving and throat rattling with a pained gasp. Slender blue fingers curled about a metal cylinder by his side as a reflex, and it was only by the feel of the device that he felt more anchored in reality… much to his shame.

He released the breath he didn’t know he was holding and lifted his free hand to press against his forehead. He could all but swear his brain was throbbing; he felt as though he had consumed every drop of knockoff Gemone whiskey in that seedy bar back on Thugantu. And by now, he knew that sensation far too well.

They’d been looking again.

“Really wish you wouldn’t do that,” he mumbled. “I told you I’d share if you wanted me to.”

He turned his gaze to his right, where a diminutive bipedal arthropod was hovering a full meter off the ground. Six antennulae wavered through the air in front of its face, prodding inquisitively towards Fane. The Aing-Tii possessed no vocal cords, but its intent was clear through the flow of the Force. If you shared freely of yourself, we would know only what you choose to give… which is not nearly all of you. It prodded a talon in his direction. We must know all of you.

“And exactly how long are you planning to spend getting to know me before deciding if I’m worthy?” Fane returned, less an inquiry and more a complaint. “By now, you’ve picked through every point of my life… not just the ones that led me here, but from birth onward. What more could you possibly need to see?”

To understand the rainbow is to perceive its every shade. So it is with the Force. So it is with existence. Your life has many shades, Fane Ciudat. And while there is much to admire in your choice to walk away rather than support a dream of conquest, we understand now that your motivation was grounded as much in self-righteousness as the ideals you proclaimed. You were convinced of your moral superiority… and your solution was to abandon your compatriots to despair, darkness, and death.

“You’re saying I should have tried to save them?” Fane scoffed. “I was a little bit busy saving myself. You’ve seen that much, too. What good would I have been to anyone dead?”

There still remain those who cling to their lives… if you have the courage to perceive them. And the heart to save them.

He narrowed his eyes at his companion. “You’re calling me a coward.”

Only if you cower.

–

The Stalag Towers of Mulmarilia were as beautiful as they were majestic. Painstakingly unearthed and fortified across a millennium, they were considered at once a natural and artificial wonder without equal in the Outer Rim Territories. Comprised first of natural stone and then reinforced with modern construction materials, they reached into the skies with all the boldness of any and every residential district on Coruscant… fingers of mineral and metal, grasping for the great beyond.

And they were an ideal home for the Krykna.

The vigilante had become a local legend in recent months. Clad head-to-toe in black, it was impossible to even tell what species he was, never mind his gender – it was merely assumed the Krykna was a “he” by default, as his was the domain of thrill-seeking, fisticuffs, and fleeing authorities. He was, at the very least, a bipedal humanoid, and if his goggles-laden cowl was anything to take hints from, he had two eyes.

He also seemed to have a curious knack for knowing where and when civilians were endangered by local ruffians looking to take what wasn’t theirs. And a peculiar boldness for challenging said ruffians without a single word uttered… just fists, feet, and a pair of pistols. Much to the curiosity of the locals, he’d yet to kill or even seriously injure a single one of his targets.

Or so went the legend.

Fane had spent the better part of two weeks examining the pulls, flows, and eddies of the Force, staring into the mysterious energies that surrounded all life and entwined it with all else, before finally seizing upon the tenuous thread that existed here. Something both exotic and yet familiar… like the scent of a flower from a mountain summit on Danuta, or the flavor of Xolnurn brandy.

Someone he’d met. Someone he knew, even if he wasn’t quite sure how.

And so he had waited for night to come. Worn a purple cloak with gold trim as he wandered aimlessly through ground alleys, side passages, and across wide bridges that bore no other pedestrians… sauntering in all the places locals warned him not to go. He had naught to fear, but the people he was looking for didn’t need to know that.

It was only a matter of time before he found himself surrounded by a group of five strangers, each and every one bearing a vibrodagger and demeanors that were smug, if perhaps a bit hurried. The leader, a greasy-haired Anzati, approached Fane with a certain air of confidence… though he could immediately tell it was tempered by a particular sense of urgency.

“We’ll be glad to take that cape and any credits you’ve got.”

Fane kept one hand clasped around his other wrist in front of him, and he offered the Anzati a smirk in return. “As I understand it, you’ll be glad to walk away from this right now without the Krykna dropping in.”

“Wouldn’t count on him,” the Anzati replied, inching closer. “He can’t be everywhere at once.”

A twitch at the base of his spine. Climbing to the back of his neck, sending his hackles up. That was a more familiar sensation… and Fane’s entire affect radiated curiosity. They were being watched right now, that much was certain. And the former Jedi wanted to see how this was going to go. He offered a shrug to the would-be mugger. “Guess we’ll just have to find out, then.”

The Anzati pursed his lips together and advanced forward more quickly. But as he began to advance with a rapid clip to his step, it was clear he wasn’t the least bit aware of the cable which launched across the expanse of the bridge in the span of an instant – a cable which caught the toe of his boot underneath it, causing him to trip and fall forward.

An instant later, a dark shape vaulted overhead, and a mass launched down to splay out across the Anzati’s back – a stunner net, complete with burrowing spikes to dig into the surface of the bridge and trap its target in place. A singular neon-blue stun charge coursed through the wires of the net, forcing a cry of gibberish from the attacker’s mouth before he lay still.

And all before the figure even landed on the bridge.

He was as Fane had heard – a narrow-limbed biped, clad fully in black, save for a stylized, spindly white spider design splashed across the back of his coat. He bore a pistol in each hand, and without so much as uttering a single word, he took aim with each and pulled the triggers.

What lanced out from them was not red-orange blaster fire, nor even the coruscating blue of stun shots… but instead twin sprays of liquid cable which immediately enveloped each target – a Rodian and a Sullustan, both of whom let out surprised cries as they fell backwards, arms abruptly bound uselessly to their chests and in no way able to brace their falls.

The remaining two muggers, both human, looked at each other for a quick moment before racing forward in a desperate attempt to close ranks before the Krykna could fire again. But this, too, was for naught – a quick lateral slash from the first thug earned an almost artful response with a dodge that arched the Krykna’s back almost to such a degree that he could suddenly reach the ground if only he raised his arms over his head. But in the same instant, he straightened back up and brought the twin barrels of his pistols to bear against the thug’s ears. The human staggered backward, only to have the Krykna drive his foot fully into his chest and hurl him to the ground.

The other human attempted to drive forward in a stabbing motion, but the Krykna sidestepped, allowing the attacker to lose balance to his own momentum. Almost faster than the eye could even see, the vigilante stowed one pistol in a leg holster, then used the suddenly freed hand to deflect a series of stabs directed at him – until finally he caught the human’s wrist fully and twisted it until the thug let out a yelp of pain and dropped his weapon. The vibrodagger clattered to the ground, where it continued to whine fruitlessly.

The Krykna’s hand shot out and roughly grabbed hold of the crook’s tunic, first pulling him close and then tugging him down as the vigilante dropped into a low crouch – and abruptly, they both launched high into the air, the Krykna seeming to drag his quarry up with him in total defiance of gravity.

And then, the black-clad biped released the human’s shirt, permitting him to freefall back to the bridge. Only at the last instant did the human seem to realize what was happening, and he let out another yelp that was just as quickly silenced by his impact… fully and evenly across his back.

It had all gone down in a matter of moments.

The Krykna turned to direct a silent stare at Fane, whose stance had not changed the entire time. The Pandoran’s cerulean visage was twisted into an amused smirk. “And to think,” he said, “you’ve done all this and more without a lightsaber.” He gave a nod of approval. “You’re a force to be reckoned with.”

The Krykna said nothing in reply as he stowed his remaining pistol. The silence between them swelled for several moments… and then he tossed his head to one side in silent beckon to follow as he turned and began to stride towards the far end of the bridge.

Fane accepted the unspoken invitation and soon fell into step beside the vigilante. There was no oncoming foot traffic; no one to behold their passage. He allowed the quiet to reign between them until it was a certainty that no ears would hear them, and then he drew breath between parted lips, ready to ask questions.

But it was the Krykna who spoke first.

“You were the one who said you don’t need a lightsaber to make a difference, Master Fane.”

Fane’s brow wrinkled. He knew that voice. Male, quiet, reserved to the point of shy. And applying it to a figure of these proportions – narrow, average human height – the tumblers clicked into place in his mind. “Pe-Tyr.”

The Krykna gave the barest nod of his head. “I knew you were coming. Wish you hadn’t. They’re looking for you, and your face stands out.”

Fane’s frown deepened. “I have a ship waiting…”

“It’s already been rigged. Come with me. I can get you off-world.”

Fane blinked. “You… made arrangements to save me? I came here to save you.”

“They don’t want a washed-out youngling, they want a Jedi Master, or as close to one as they can get. I’m not gonna be responsible for your capture, that’s why I made these plans once the Force showed me you were coming.”

The Pandoran healer let out a breath. “Clearly your foresight is stronger than I believed. Maybe I should have…”

“If you had, maybe I’d be dead. We’ll never know, and I don’t want to.” The Krykna glanced over his shoulder at Fane. “I haven’t seen where you’re going and I don’t want to know that, either. But if you trust me to get you out of here, we’ll meet up again eventually.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

“I’ve been building a life here fine without you, Master, but now that you’ve come, it’s all up in the air. I can see some of it but not all of it. I’ll figure it out as I go.”

Fane’s eyebrows bobbed up his forehead. This was clearly not the Pe-Tyr he’d known back at the Jedi Temple… the timid child who had clung to Keni, the shy youngling that had tinkered with every machine he could find, the embittered adolescent who had wept when told he would not be apprenticed, despite all counsel to set grief aside. This was an entirely new Pe-Tyr. Brilliant, confident, skilled, determined.... but above all?

“Adaptable, I like that.”

~*~

#fictober22 #fictober 2022 #star wars #drabble #fanfiction #muse: strange (sw au)#muse: spidey (sw au)#trauma tw #violence tw

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