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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

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REBEL SUNS - CHAPTER THREE

series masterlist | main masterlist

summary: things don’t go as planned on hosnian prime.

word count: 5.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, *SPOILERS FOR ANDOR* canon-typical violence and injuries, shady people making shady deals, the killing of bad guys, mentions of death, grief, longing, yearning, blood, unprotected p-in-v (wrap ur shit in space, yeah?) if I missed anything let me know

a/n: dude the joel miller/tlou brain rot is still going hardcore but I put DATES ON THIS STORY FOR A REASON (we’ll see how well I stick to them but I digress…)

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“Absolutely not.”

You have to stifle the urge to roll your eyes at Luthen. You had a feeling it would go this way, but with Cassian agreeing to go with you, you hoped it would be different.

“We’ve traded with Jaar Tharen before, Luthen,” you say, pulling up the file on your holo-pad and sliding it across the table to him. “Chances are he’ll have something the Rebellion can use as well.”

“Hosnian Prime is in the Interior,” Luthen replies, hitting a button on the panel, pulling up a galaxy map. He pokes a finger at the Core Worlds. “That’s the heart of the Empire. I won’t chance the both of you for a scrap of information we may not even need.”

“And setting up shop on Coruscant wasn’t taking a chance?”

Luthen balks, a retort caught on his tongue.

“Vel told me,” you say, planting your palms on the table. “I know about the Senator too.”

“Vel,” Luthen mutters, looking away from you.

“I’ll go by myself,” you say, your voice stern. Cassian puts a hand on your arm, but you shrug it off. “I told you, when you first found me. Yes, I will help the Rebellion. I will fight the Empire with every single fibre of my being. But he is all I have left, Luthen. My last brother. The last of my family.”

If looks could kill, the glare Luthen levels you with would have stopped your heart on the spot. “If this goes bad, it’s on you.” Then his eyes shift to Cassian. “Both of you.”

Cassian gives a nod, and you take the holo-pad back, closing the screen.

“Take the U-Wing. And one of the astromechs.”

You say nothing, and turn on your heel, stalking from the room, Cassian close behind. “You don’t have to do this,” you say, clutching your holo-pad to your chest. “I can go myself.”

“Luthen’s right,” he says by way of answer, and you shoot him a glare, “Hosnian Prime is the heart of Imperial Territory. You need me,” he’s grinning, and you can hear it, but something softer seeps into his voice, “to watch your back.”

You’re both quick to pack, collecting weapons and supplies off the Fondor, a few things from the base itself. Standing in front of the U-Wing, you feel a little nervous, but Cassian has an easy grin on his face. “Can you fly it?” you ask.

“Of course,” he replies, and climbs aboard without a second glance. You follow quickly, trying to swallow back the nerves that sit heavy in the back of your throat.

Much like the Fondor, the U-Wing is cloaked, the system rigged to offer a license for any number of legitimate trade operations at a moment’s notice. You’re not much of a pilot, but you stay with Cassian in the cockpit, hitting buttons when he tells you, taking his orders in stride.

Before you know it, you’re dropping out of hyperspace and into orbit around Hosnian Prime. Cassian lands the ship on the quieter side of Republic City, a landing pad that looks like it hasn’t been used in ages. As soon as you’ve disembarked, you send your contact confirmation you’ve arrived, and a location is sent in response a moment later.

“This way,” you whisper to Cassian, and you take off through the city. You’ve donned your long coat once more, and Cassian has one to match, both of you with your hoods up. The lightsaber is a heavy weight at your hip.

You stick to the shadows as you traverse the city, Cassian a half-step behind you. Watching your back, just like he said. The underworld on Hosnian Prime is different from the other Core Worlds, darker, but you keep the same confidence you’ve used in the past, following the directions on your holo-pad to get where you need to go.

It takes you down a dark alley, to a door marked with a symbol you know Jaar Tharen has used before. You knock once, then twice, then once again, and the grate slides open, revealing a pair of bright yellow eyes. “What.”

“I’m here to see Jaar Tharen,” you say quickly, stashing your holo-pad. “We’re expected.”

The grate slams shut, you can hear voices on the other side, and then the door swings inward. A tall Trandoshan, the owner of the yellow eyes, holds the door open, beckons you forward. “Inside.”

It all happens in a moment.

Big hands clamp down on your shoulders, and you try to turn, but you can’t move. You hear Cassian yell, and crane your neck just enough to see him shoved backwards out the door, slammed shut a moment later. Another set of hands, belonging to a Pantoran, dive beneath your coat, reaching for the saber. You try to kick at the Pantoran, but you’re wrenched back, a barrel of a blaster pressed to your temple.

You try and resist, and the Trandoshan tightens his grip, constricting your throat, making black dots dance across your vision. You blink hard, sagging slightly, sucking down oxygen when the grip goes loose again.

Jaar Tharen steps out into view, an unkind grin on his face. “Hello, Shadow.”

Shit. This isn’t good.

Cassian’s pushed out the door so hard he stumbles over the doorjamb, sprawls on his back on the pavement, the air bursting from his lungs as he hits the ground. His head hits hard, eyes fluttering shut with the force, and he’s out.

He comes to sometime later, with no idea how much time has passed. He tries to scramble up, lunging for the door, but the movement makes his head spin, heavy metal ringing in his ears. The door thuds loudly as he throws himself against it, trying to get the damned thing to budge, but it’s no use.

Shit.

Now what?

Panic seeps into his gut, and he shakes his head, trying to clear the ringing in his ears, shoving a hand through his hair. It’s staring to rain, water puddling on the pavement, dripping loudly against his coat. He can’t hear anything on the other side of the door, there’s no lock he could try and pick, no panel he could try to override. How long was he out? How long have you been inside?

Shit.

He circles the building quickly, trying to find a way inside, but comes up empty. There are no windows, and the rest of the building looks to be some kind of nightclub, not open to the public yet, so he ducks through the tunnel that leads into the club. There are a few people inside, employees preparing for the evening ahead, and he keeps himself pressed to the wall, inching through the dark rooms until he’s closer to the hideout. He presses his ear to the wall, looks for any sign of a second way in.

Keeping his blaster in hand, he continues forward, until he’s beside the bar that runs the length of the far wall. He takes a step, the floor creaks beneath his foot, and a voice reaches his ears, just above the whisper.

“Kitchen,” it calls quietly, and he turns his head to see the source of the voice, a pretty Twi’lek bartender, busying herself with cleaning a glass. “Freezer.” She tilts her head backward, towards a set of double doors, and Cassian nods and whispers back his thanks.

The kitchen is mostly empty as he slips through the double doors, only a large Besalisk standing at the stove, his back to Cassian, too busy with the food sizzling on the grill to notice him. Cassian keeps himself pressed to the wall, slinks towards the heavy white door he hopes is the freezer.

It’s bitingly cold as he slips inside, blaster still glued to his hand. Sure enough, there’s a second door at the back of the freezer, half-obscured by a large hanging piece of what he thinks is Tauntaun. He sidesteps it quickly, reaching for the latch on the door. He lifts the blaster, finger twitching on the trigger as the door swings open. There’s no one on the other side, a different room than the one you’d first walked into.

Slowly, Cassian steps through, sweeping left to right, searching for any sign of you. The freezer door shuts behind him, and he pulls his second blaster out from inside his coat. He pauses, listening, waiting for any indication of which way to go. There are doors along every wall in the room he’s entered, and he pans the room, both blasters raised.

Then he hears it.

A pained shout, just on the edge of a scream. Instantly, he follows the noise, crossing the room to the closed door. He doesn’t hesitate, kicking the door inwards, pulling the trigger at the two Trandoshans standing guard, one which he recognizes as the one who let you inside and shoved Cassian out. They both drop with loud groans, blaster bolts finding homes in the backs of their heads.

There are more in the room, all holding weapons, getting to their feet, but Cassian barely notices. He drops every single one of them, until all that remains is him and the tall man holding you by the arm. Your face is bloody and beaten, worse than when he found you on Arkanis, crimson dripping down your chest. There’s spiked metal along the man’s knuckles, and in his free hand, he holds the saber you’d found, the yellow blade illuminating your face, highlighting the blood smeared on your skin. There’s a burn on your collar, and your shirt is in tatters, the fabric singed.

Your eyes land on him, out of focus from the beating you’ve sustained, but he still sees it on your swollen lips. His name.

“Cassian.”

“Let her go,” he says sternly, the words nearly spit into the space between him and the man he assumes to be Jaar Tharen. “Now.”

“Give me one good reason why I shou—” he starts, but the sentence cuts off as Cassian pulls the trigger once more, hitting him square between the eyes. His body drops, the saber falling from his slackened grip, the blade retracting as it hits the floor. Without Jaar holding you up, you fall too, and Cassian surges forward, grabbing you before you can hit the floor. You grip him surprisingly tightly, his arm slung around your middle, holding you upright. You gasp as your bodies collide, and Cassian can feel the hot blood on your skin sticking to his shirt, soaking the fabric.

“Why do you keep coming back for me?” you ask, your words a little slurred, your voice thick with blood. Your head rolls against his shoulder, hot breath across his neck. He tightens his grip on you, taking as much of your weight as he can. You groan as he pulls you from the room, out the same way he came in. Your coat is gone, and he pauses at the freezer door, shucking off his own and tossing it around your shoulders.

“Did they take your things?” he asks, leaning you against the wall as he wraps you in his coat. “Your blaster, the holo-pad?”

“Smashed it,” you mumble out, your eyes fluttering. “Jaar…the blaster…saber.”

“We need to go back to the ship,” he says, wiping his blood-stained hands on his pant leg. “You look like hell.”

“They know…” you breathe out, reaching forward and fisting your hand in the front of his shirt. “Can’t go back.”

“What did you tell them?” Cassian snaps, fear seeping into his stomach. “Shadow, what did you say?”

Even through the pain, you wince at the nickname. “Only about the ship. Not about the base. More will be waiting at the ship.”

Shit.

He pauses, waits until he’s sure you can stay balanced against the wall, before he doubles back. He searches the bodies quickly, finds your blaster and a few others. He hesitates before picking up the saber again, tucking it into his back pocket before making his way back to you. You haven’t moved, and he fits himself against your side, tugging your arm around his neck. Cassian pushes your blaster back into your hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

You nod limply as he hauls your weight against him one more. The freezer feels twice as cold without his coat, and you gasp at the feeling, your eyes going wide as he carries you through, out of the kitchen. You make it to the edge of the bar before your legs give out beneath you, and Cassian grunts, refusing to let you fall.

The Twi’lek that had pointed him towards the freezer reappears, a shocked expression on her face when she sees how bloody you are, nearly dropping the glass in her hands. “You tell nobody what you saw,” he tells her, reaching for a rag on the bar. He tries to wipe the blood from your face, avoiding your injuries, cleaning it from your neck. “You understand me?”

The Twi just nods, filling the glass with water from one of the many taps behind the bar, pushing it into your hands. You nearly sob with thanks, pouring the liquid down your throat so fast it spills down the corners of your mouth, mixing with the blood on your skin. Your eyes are a little brighter when you lower the glass, a wet gasp falling out of you as you lean against Cassian.

“There’s an inn on the other side of the city,” you tell him, thanking the Twi as she fills the glass again. You meet his eyes, surety in your own. “We’ll be safe there.”

Cassian nods, reaching into one of his coat pockets for a stack of credits. He hands them to the Twi, presses them into her hand with meaning. “For your secrecy.”

Fitting himself under your shoulder, he lifts you back onto your shaking legs, leads you out of the club and into the rainy night. You make it a few blocks before your legs give out again, and Cassian half-carries you down another alley. It’s easy enough to find a speeder bike parked outside another club, easier still to hot-wire it, arranging you on the back of the seat before climbing on himself. He’s worried, for a moment, as he shifts the bike into drive and heads onto the main road, but your grip around his middle is tight, your head pressed between his shoulder blades.

The innkeeper doesn’t question either of your appearances, you still dripping blood, Cassian stained with it, his hair now wet from the rain, his clothes soaked through. Cassian still hands over double the normal rate for a room, the exchange wordless as the man slides a keycard to him, takes the credits, and turns away, a blank expression on his face, as if the whole transaction had never occurred, as if he hadn’t seen either of you.

Cassian almost chuckles. Must be one of Luthen’s.

You nearly pass out in the elevator, and Cassian scoops you up, grunting at the weight of your limp body, wrapped in his soaked coat, the weapons he’d pilfered stuffed into various pockets. He nearly drops you trying to get into the room, but manages, kicking the door shut behind him and heading straight for the fresher, setting you on your feet, still keeping his grip on you. He flicks on the heat before turning back to you, peeling his coat off your shaking shoulders. He lets it drop, turns you towards him, finding a stack of towels and wetting a small one. There’s a knock at the door before he can clean more red from your face, and you just take the towel from him wordlessly.

Blaster at the ready, he approaches the door slowly, carefully. His gut clenches as he hits the panel, metal whooshing open, revealing only a medkit sitting on the floor. He snatches it up quickly, closing the door and locking the panel again.

When he gets back to the bathroom, you almost look like you again. Most of the blood has been cleaned from your face, and now he can see where the injuries really are: a thick cut above your eyebrow, a split in your lower lip, a darkening bruise on your cheek. There’s more at your collar than just the burn, and he can see the remnants of the bandages around your middle, the bacta patch Luthen had used when they found you on Arkanis. You’re wincing, trying to pull your tattered shirt over your head, tears in your eyes.

“Here,” Cassian says quietly, and steps toward you, setting the medkit on the counter. Carefully, he manoeuvres your shirt over your head, letting it drop to the floor in a heap. “Let me see.”

You’re silent as he looks you over, your arms crossed over your chest, hands gripping your shivering shoulders. Your knuckles are bloody, a few of them split, and there’s an ugly bruise forming on your side, opposite the bacta patch. He starts with the old bandages, peeling them from you carefully, silently thankful there’s no new damage beneath the bacta patch, but he removes it, replaces it with a new one from the kit.

There’s a small vial of med-nog inside the kit, and you take it wordlessly, snapping it open and tossing the liquid back. Cassian turns methodical, treating your injuries one at a time. He wraps your hands in gauze, cuts thin strips of tape to hold the cut above your eye together while it heals, spreads burn salve over your collarbone.

“Why did he do this to you?” he asks, when he can no longer stifle the question. “He certainly didn’t waste any time.” He rubs a hand over the back of his head; there’s a chance he has a slight concussion, and he grabs his own vial. “I couldn’t have been out that long.”

“I had it coming, apparently,” you reply, and Cassian can hear the strength returning to your voice. You just look…tired, defeated. “Last time I was on Coruscant, I stole from one of Jaar’s partners. He asked Jaar to punish me for it whenever he got the chance.” You rub a hand over your face, avoiding your bruises. “I’ve got shit timing, don’t I?”

“Did he at least give you any information?” Cassian presses, tossing some of the bloody gauze into the garbage. “Anything about your brother?”

“My brother is dead,” you say, the words dropping like bombs into the space between you. Cassian balks, his eyes going wide, and it’s almost as though he can see the hope draining from your eyes, your expression. “He was shot by Rebels on Crait, three weeks ago.” Your hands are still clasped around your shoulders, and they shake harder as a sob rattles out of your throat. “I’m the only one left.”

You collapse forward, and Cassian catches you. He doesn’t have words, gathering you into his arms. He feels your fingers curl in the collar of his shirt, your forehead pressed against his throat. He doesn’t know what to say, but wraps one arm around your shoulders, lets his other hand rest on the back of your head. He just lets you cry, your tears hot on his neck, your breath stuttered as he slowly walks you out of the fresher, towards the empty bed.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs to you as he reaches down to pull the blankets back, keeping one arm around you as he does it. “Come on.”

Your eyes are shut as he lays you down on the bed, his hand following your head until it rests on the pillow. Your sobs are quiet, but each one seeps into his chest all the same, threading through him with every moment that passes, taking up residence in his heart.

He leaves you only to finish cleaning the bathroom, strips down, sets his coat and clothes over the heaters to dry. He cleans your blood from the counter, takes the rest of the med-nog vials from the medkit, checks the blasters, wipes them clean with a towel. He checks the door twice, making sure it’s locked. He fills a glass of water and leaves it on the table beside the bed for you. He turns off all the lights except one in the bathroom, a soft blue glow filling the space.

For a moment, he considers sitting vigil at the edge of the bed all night. Making sure nothing else — no one else — comes to call, giving you a sound night of rest. It hasn’t stopped, he realizes, since he found you on Arkanis. This is the first reprieve, the first moment of stillness.

The ache in his head and the weariness in his bones gets the better of him, and, leaving a healthy amount of space between you, Cassian slides into the bed with you. You’re curled on your side, hands clasped under you chin, but as soon as he’s beneath the blankets, your eyes flash open, and one hand extends, searching for him. He catches your gauze-wrapped knuckles, threads his fingers between yours, lets them rest on his sternum. You watch your linked hands rise and fall with his breathing for a moment, before your gaze moves to his face, those big, watery eyes of yours pinning him in place.

“Where are you from?” you ask, the question barely above a whisper.

He keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling above him. “Ferrix.”

Your brow pinches slightly, like you don’t believe him.

“Fest,” he says next, the lie rolling off his tongue. Ferrix isn’t a lie, not really, but he knows what you’re asking, and he’s all too used to shielding his past. The corner of his mouth quirks, and he rolls his head to the side, finding your eyes in the dark. “A place that doesn’t exist anymore.”

He watches as your lids drop shut, and after a moment, he rolls onto his side, makes the distance between you a little smaller. He doesn’t let go of your hand, still holding it softly, rubbing his thumb across the back. He waits, listens, watches, for your breathing to even out, for your face to relax into sleep. Only then does he let his own eyes fall shut, and lets sleep swallow him whole.

It’s still dark on Hosnian Prime when you wake. Soft blue light filters through the curtains, from the bathroom. You’re in the same position you fell asleep in, curled on your side, your hand wrapped in Cassian’s larger one. His knuckles are still pressed between yours, his thumb twitching against gauze.

He’s closer now, closer than he’d been when you fell asleep; if he inched forward just slightly, his forehead would be pressed to yours. You can feel his warm breath fanning against your neck, and slowly, you pull your hand from his grip, scoot backwards off the bed, doing your best not to disturb him.

The med-nog in the kit must have been more concentrated than Luthen’s flask, because you feel the best you’ve felt in days, despite your appearance. It nearly shocks you as you step into the fresher, closing the door and flicking the main light on. You blink against the brightness, scrubbing a hand over your face. The bruises have faded noticeably, the cut over your brow nearly scarred over.

Cassian did a good job cleaning the blood off of you. The fabric of your bra is slightly stained, and you shrug out of your clothes completely, stepping into the shower and turning the water as hot as it’ll go.

The fresher is filled with steam when you step out again, reaching for towels for your hair and body, half-heartedly drying the former, revelling in the softness as you wipe down the latter. Cassian’s coat and clothes are laid out on the heater, dried from the rain, and you snag his shirt, pulling it over your head, sighing as the warm fabric settles over you. It smells like him, that subtle spiciness invading your senses when you bury your nose in the collar.

You re-bandage yourself, re-wrap your busted knuckles, reapply a bacta patch to your side. You’re inspecting your collar when the door to the fresher slides open, revealing a mostly naked, sleepy version of Cassian.

Your eyes drop first, taking in his bare legs, the tight black briefs, the smattering of hair that trails up his stomach, covers most of his chest. You’ll be the first to admit that your mouth is instantly filled with saliva, and you swallow hard as your gaze moves to his head. His hair is a mess, the rainwater having turned it into a mop of curls atop his head. He pushes a hand through them as he steps inside, grumbling something you can’t make out. He pauses behind you, one hand gripping your bicep, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and you cover his hand with yours. “I didn’t wake you,” you say, your voice quiet, “did I?”

“No,” he says softly, and leans forward slightly, until his chest is pressed to your back. “Bed was empty. Worried.”

“Sorry,” you reply, squeezing his hand. You go to move, but he stops you, his free hand wrapping around your hip, curling in the fabric of his shirt on your torso. “Thank you, Cass,” you murmur, letting your body lean back into his, “for what you did.”

His forehead taps against the back of your head before his head lolls to the side, fitting in the space above your shoulder. “That’s what partners are for.”

“Is that what we are?” you ask, both your hands lowering to the edge of the counter as his hand moves from your arm to your other hip. He holds you between his palms, rough skin against soft, and his face lowers into the curve of your neck. You shiver at the feeling, an icy chill shooting down your spine. “Partners?”

He groans into your ear, the scrape of his beard against your throat making your eyes roll back, head titling against his. “Won’t let anybody hurt you,” he says softly, the words spoken against your skin. “Won’t let anybody touch you.” He pauses, and his hands move, curling around your hips, palms skimming down your thighs. His accent seems thicker when he speaks again. “Only me, yes?”

“Cass,” you say, and he chuckles, dragging his nails up your thighs, hands folded around your waist once more. “I need—”

“Tell me what you need,” he says, one arm adjusting to wrap around your middle instead, other hand moving to your thigh again. He says your name — your real name, not Shadow — and you shiver. “Tell me, and it is yours.”

There’s enough tension in the fresher to set you on fire, and you can’t hold back anymore, no matter how many thoughts swirl through your brain, how complicated this will make things, how you don’t know if you can stomach having something else you could potentially lose.

You push every single thought away, covering his hand with yours, moving it from your thigh, inward. Your other hand lifts to fist in the back of his hair, curls bending around your knuckles, keeping his face pressed into your neck. His hips roll against your ass as you do it, and you can feel how hard he is, prodding against your lower back.

“I just wanna feel good, Cass,” you murmur.

It’s slow, but fast at the same time. He touches you carefully, eyes flashing up to meet yours in the mirror while his hand works between your legs. He draws perfect circles around your clit, your knees threatening to give out from under you, nails biting into his forearm as you tremble.

“Cass, please.”

There’s little clothing to be shed, his briefs dropped low enough to free him from the fabric, your underwear hooked around your ankle, and then he presses into you. It steals the air from your lungs, something between a whine and a gasp filling the space as he pushes to the hilt, filling you completely. You grip the countertop, his hands both on your hips again, his body drawn back slightly. In the reflection, you can see his eyes trained downward, watching the way he disappears into you, the way your thighs tremble against his when he hits something white-hot inside you.

“Fuck.”

The fresher fills with the sound of skin hitting skin, and his pace is relentless, driving you forward into the counter, yanking you back onto his cock at the same time. He takes a step back, pulling your hips backward, and your back arches as the angle changes, letting him drive deeper into you. He has an iron grip on your waist, but as soon as everything in you starts to tighten, as you can feel that coil twisting, he yanks you upright.

He slides one hand right up his shirt, squeezing at your breast, his mouth at your ear again. His hips don’t stop, and his other hand aims right between your legs, finding your clit like he’s done this a million times. It doesn’t take much more to have you keening in his arms, everything in you turning to stardust as the pleasure explodes through you. He works you through it, hips rocking into your ass before they start to stutter.

“Where?” he growls out, squeezing both arms around you.

“Inside,” you breathe, reaching back to thread your fingers through his hair again. “Implant.” A particularly harsh thrust makes you whimper. “Please.”

One more slam inside you, and he’s finding his own bliss, head tucked against your collar, teeth sinking into your neck. You grip his hair tightly, your eyes fluttering shut as warmth spreads through you, making your insides pulse around him.

He breathes heavily into your collar, still holding you tightly, and you let him, aftershocks still making your thighs quake as you both come down.

His dark eyes meet yours in the mirror, and for a moment, you just stare at each other. You have half a mind to turn in his grip, to press your mouth to his, to kiss him until you forget your own name, but the thoughts you’d pushed away have returned, and your eyes are the first to fall, grief crawling up your throat and chasing the last dregs of pleasure away.

The only one left, you said.

A place that doesn’t exist anymore, he said.

Luthen was right; two lives of tragedy. Though you don’t know the depths of Cassian’s just yet, nor he yours. But the thought worms it’s way into your brain as he holds you, the same one that had tried to stop you before.

Can you let yourself have him, knowing full well you might lose him, just like everything else?

He takes you back to bed, afterward. After the shakiness has faded from your limbs, when he can finally see straight again, when the feeling of your skin under his hands is a welcome warmth and not blurring every line in his mind with lust and want and need. It had all come to a head so quickly, words he couldn’t stifle anymore falling out of him.

Won’t let anybody hurt you. Truth.

Won’t let anybody touch you. Only me, yes? Another truth.

A truth he’s been wrestling with since he picked you up out of the mud on Arkanis, since you turned those pretty eyes on him and told him that Rebellions are built on hope. You hit him like an explosion, a bright light he couldn’t tear his eyes from. A truth he couldn’t stop himself from acting on any longer, from feeling your warmth from every angle, burying himself in the deepest parts of you. A spark that turned to flame turned to forest fire in the blink of an eye. He knows he could drown in you, if he let himself. He knows he could abandon everything else without another thought, whisk you away somewhere warm and easy and…together.

Cassian knows better than this, and his mind races as he curls against you under the blankets this time, not an inch of space between your bodies as you fit together. There is no ease to this, no simplicity. Not that he’s ever known either feeling. He could lose you just as easily as he found you; the ambush in the alley only proves that further.

Everything you’ve been through, Maarva’s voice murmurs in his mind, a memory pulled to the surface, everything that was taken away from you before you even started. The words are something like a balm as he puts his arms around you, fits his chest to your back, buries his nose in your hair. Perhaps he has been through enough; perhaps you are the recompense.

And if you are, then he has protect you.

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philcoulsonismyhero · 8 months

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Back to RotS for a bit, and Anakin, my guy, you're all of 22, and depending on continuity you've either been a knight for all of about a year or more like three, and you haven't trained a Padawan to knighthood, in what possible world was it realistic to imagine they'd give you the rank of master just because the Chancellor says so. Like. My dude. Obi-Wan is the young, hip Council member, you can tell by the way he's sitting in his chair, and he's 16 years older than you

Hate hate hate how good Palpatine is at manipulating literally everyone in this situation for Exactly the end that he's after

I know it's a 'limited speaking roles' situation, but I do always love how there's like four people on the Jedi Council who ever speak, and Obi-Wan has immediately become one of them. He really is such a teacher's pet, it's so funny how explicitly he's Yoda's favourite in a lot of the EU books

You know, I'm pretty sure the old EU extra content used to have their fun fact about Ki-Adi-Mundi be that he was the only knight on the Council, at least in Ep1, so I don't know what you're grumbling about, Anakin

"Why are you asking this of me?" "The Council is asking you." Gahhhh

Man I love sunset on Coruscant

So if Mace doesn't think this is a good idea either, I'm assuming the idea came from Yoda or possibly someone else, and got a majority agreement from the rest of the Council. Obi-Wan doesn't like it, Mace doesn't like it, maybe this is a Bad Idea, gang

"He will not let me down. He never has." *audible wailing* The 'Palpatine is up to shady shit' leitmotif in the background is Not helping

#rots liveblog #personal stuff

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bornitereads · 1 month

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Force Heretic I: Remnant - Sean Williams & Shane Dix

Star Wars: The New Jedi Order book 15

Reread: Dec 2023

So there are basically three plot lines in this book. What Han, Leia, Jaina, Jag, and Tahiri are doing; what Luke, Mara, Jacen, Saba, and Tekli are doing; and what Nom Anor is doing on Coruscant/Yuuzhan'tar (RIP other Yuuzhan Vong characters but Nom is the only one that is important in this book). It's concise in the way that it didn't feel cumbersome. All three lines have structure and plot momentum.

Han and Leia's feels more worldbuildy and/or nostalgia round-uppy than the other two. Again it didn't feel forced, it flowed and fit the larger narrative, but it also was like let's answer some questions people might have about things that we haven't touched since their original books. For instance the question in this book was, what are the Yevetha doing during all this war and chaos? The answer is suffering genocide, because of course it is. The poor Yevetha, they never got to have the rehabilitation story so common in Star Wars.

Luke and Mara are off on a heroic quest to the Unknown Regions, but first a stop in the Imperial Remnant! Surprise it's under attack! Something I just learned about this story arc is that Ben was originally slated to go with them, but was cut out for some reason. I think it would have made sense to have the two Jedi Masters bring their kid along. Especially if they're heading out of the active war zone, even if that journey may be dangerous. I mean just put him in a capsule like Grogu in The Mandalorian, surely Lando could have built an indestructible one for them. You know since he's manufacturing war droids for the war effort and all.

Lastly Nom Anor is getting up to some shady shit. Basically he becomes involved in the brewing religious revolution that's brewing amongst the lower classes of the Yuuzhan Vong. A matter of pure survival for him, but a much needed influx of brains, strategy, and driving force for the heretic revolutionaries. The cracks have finally started to show up in the Yuuzhan Vong.

Luke's and Nom's plots are the main story for the NJO now. Leia's Galactic Alliance work is only tangentially important to the plot at large. Still all three weave together nicely. I think having both Williams and Dix work on this trilogy was a benefit to it.

Info: Del Rey; 2003

#force heretic i: remnant #sean williams #shane dix #force heretic trilogy #star wars #the new jedi order #njo #fiction #science fiction #sci fi

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doopcafe · 1 year

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The Dad Batch S2E8: Truth and Consequences

Summary: TDB breaks into Admiral Rampart’s star destroyer and then gets p0wned by Uncle Palps.

Comments: Best episode yet.

We open on a little character development between Echo and Omega as Echo explains the “real bad time” he had in a tank on Skako Minor. They’re interrupted by a call from Rex, who says he’s found this episode’s premise: TDB is gonna go to Coruscant and steal from Admiral Rampart.

(Just wanna mention that we’re exactly two minutes in and we’ve already (1) developed two main characters, (2) established the episode’s premise, and (3) are embarking on the story. I’ve been suffering through new episodes of Star Trek Picard and, well TDB is just so much more competent.)

Anyways, on approach to Coruscant we get a nice cutaway shot to wide-eyed Omega amazed by the city-planet (character consistency!) and we pick up where we left off: Chuchi and Rex have been hanging out with a corpse in a garage.

There’s a nice bit of dialogue here where Rex mentions the assassin’s ID number has been erased and Tech says he wasn’t aware such a thing was possible. It makes sense that Tech (rather than any other character) says the line and it suggests that if Tech (of all people) didn’t know, then it was probably done by some resourceful people, setting up some mystery. Sorry, just, compared to Picard, this show, again... more competent...

Right, so Chuchi wants to prove Rampart’s a lying cunt (her words exactly) so TDB plans to steal the evidence from his ship while Chuchi tries out “take your daughter to work day” with Omega. She (Chuchi) talks to Rampart with Omega standing there... and honestly I was a little confused. Doesn’t Rampart know/recognize Omega? I could have sworn there was a previous scene where he would have seen her?

As an aside, I’m getting pretty annoyed with the execution of these political intrigue plots because all these high-profile people are walking around in public spaces having shady, egregiously compromising discussions about sensitive topics when there’s like, a pair of guards or a shopkeeper or whatever just standing there listening to them? This isn’t a problem with the writing, but it’s annoying. Why a public walkway? Why not a sealed office? For example, when my boss wants to talk shit about some employees, we close the door and lower our voices. We don’t stand in the break room and explain how Allen is the reason the middle finger was invented.

Anyways, their plan works and they get the data to Chuchi. She uses it to reveal Rampart’s role in the destruction of Kamino. So everything works out, right?

Right?

Wait, what’s this? By god, it’s Creamy Sheev with a steel chair!

Uncle Palps rises into the senate chambers, orders Rampart arrested, and uses Rampart’s destruction of Kamino as justification to pass the army bill (the one he wanted all along), completely f—ing over the heroes.

I really liked this scene. When Palps enters to some sinister Kiner score, the expectation is that shit’s about to get real. And then it does. The scene is not an unsalted pretzel of disappointment (like Picard). No, instead the delivery satisfies the expectation and it’s just delightful. Also, good on Ian McDiarmid for continuing to voice Uncle Palps. The dude’s voice acting is just top notch and really elevates the scene as well.

If anyone's keeping track, that's: Creamy Sheev: 1; TDB: 0

Oh, and then Echo leaves at the end. I’ve been expecting his character to be written out and honestly I'm surprised it took so long. (1) His character is redundant with Tech, (2) he’s one less character to animate, and (3) removing his character would not result in a real, live human being losing their job. So, there’s that.

My Enjoyment: 5/5

Damn bitches, this was good shit.

#pie211-tdb #the dad batch #the bad batch #star wars

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thesunflowersutra · 3 years

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may the force be with you. and you. (also on ao3)

None of them knew how they had ended up in that situation. Between one game of Sabacc and a shot of Merenzane Gold - courtesy of the Galactic Baron himself -, the three of them took the enthusiastic chat directly to Wilson’s ship - the red Falcon - and, while they were sitting in the cockpit, the pilot looked confused. Why in the name of the stars was he, a respectable Republic pilot, giving a ride to a convicted space gangster and his pet psychopath? Oh, right, because said gangster and pet were his best friends. And he had decided to visit them after a very angry holocall from his old flying partner. Bucky Barnes came first into his life as an acquaintance. Since he was Steve Rogers’ childhood friend - both of them grew in the streets of Coruscant -, the two of them got along pretty quickly and it didn’t take much from Sam to empathize with the older man’s sad backstory. When Steve was gone, Sam and Bucky had a hard time dealing with grief and rebuilding their friendship seemed like a plan for the future. However, the Rebellion needed them to regroup and go back to their missions together as soon as possible - there wasn’t much time to deal with their personal feelings about the passing of their best friend. One mission later, they were already back on tracks, more close than ever. Zemo joining them was… a little bit weirder. Baron Helmut Zemo was famous for his money and contacts - he wasn’t an ally or an enemy, but someone willing to help as long as he got what he wanted in the end. They could use someone with money and somewhere safe to land and take care of the Falcon. In some desperate time, they asked for his help and Helmut obliged - but not without a price. He wanted to seek revenge against the Empire for that fall of his home planet, Alderaan. They wanted to destroy the Empire. It seemed like a logic alliance to be made at the time. Sure, things got weird when Bucky and Zemo started developing feelings for each other and Barnes left the rebellion to join Zemo, but who was Sam to judge? He wanted to see his friend happy and if it was with some widowed space gangster, so be it. Of course he would keep an eye on the baron just to make sure that he wasn’t hurting Bucky but… they were somewhat solid with each other. He tried to keep contact as much as he could but it wasn’t easy since he never knew where Zemo’s ship would be next, but they tried their best. “O32-N1K got us more drinks…”, Zemo’s voice appeared behind them, while the old-fashioned Droid followed him, holding a tray with three cups filled with the golden liquor. “I shouldn’t be drinking that much, I am the designated driver, after all…”, started Sam, receiving glares from Zemo and Bucky at the same time. Shit, they really were one at this point. “What is the rush, my dear Wilson? Let’s enjoy the night, rest and leave in the morning”, said Zemo, with a small chuckle. He didn’t wanted Sam to leave so early. He knew that Bucky missed his best friend and it was good for his husband to chill a bit. Even though they were together for a few years already, he knew that Bucky missed the battlefield action. Barnes was a soldier, he was a royalty. Nothing would change that - not even war, his extinct planet or their marriage. “Also, you promised me that you would try to talk to Karli about the Republic Army. They won’t forgive me if I let you leave without talking to them about it”, said Bucky. It still felt weird talking about the teenager with so much care - in the past, the gingerhead gave them trouble, now, they were his adoptive kid (another courtesy from Zemo who had only two passions in his life: his growing new family and his shady business across the galaxy). The pilot heavily sighed. Yes. He had promised Morgenthau that he would talk to them about their future. The kid wanted to be a pilot since they were a child and he clearly didn’t help taking them to fly with him every time he visited Bucky and Zemo. “Fine, I’ll stay for the night. But only for Karli. And if I hear both of you being weird and moaning, I’ll leave and take the kid and the droid with me”, said Sam, getting laughs from both of his friends.

“We promise we will be quiet, sladkiy”, murmured the Alderaanian, with a soft smile.

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dindjarinbae · 3 years

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I just finished listening to Taylor Swift’s new album, Tolerate It hurt really bad. Please some sad Din content based off of that song, and I beg, angst and no happy ending

bestie, this is so late. i’m so sorry </3

this shit hurted to write but that’s okay, i tried my hardest to stay true to the request. anyways here you go!!

warnings: NONE, just sad

word count: 1.3k

—

The first day you realized something was truly off was the day it was too late to do anything about it. Perhaps, in short moments in passing before now you felt like something was fleeting, fading, waning away from your grip.

The thing slipping from your grasp was Din.

It was a chilly night on the planet of Eadu, and rain was falling loudly against the Crest. You should’ve been sleeping and he should have been as well, but you were both awake while the only one on board getting any rest was the sleeping baby in his little pram across the way. You sat with your legs dangling over the edge of Din’s bunk and you watched him from the other side of the hull. He sat casually on a crate that had been turned upside down and he read about his bounty from a blue-tinted hologram. If he noticed your stare, he didn’t acknowledge it or invite you to come sit with him like he used to. That was the first time you realized something was amiss.

You’d always wondered if you two would last, and it seemed like the test of time had been passed, but unforeseen things happen, and this was unfortunately one of those things. He was older than you, by over ten years, he’d confirmed indefinitely once, but never gave you more than that. You speculated that you were looking at a nearly thirteen or fourteen year gap, and that made you nervous, but he assured you, it was nothing to worry about, that he didn’t care.

But now it was like he did.

The second time you noticed it was when his protective little quirks became less romantic and more like you were another child he had to take care of. He scolded you, reprimanded you, and would often correct you in patronizing ways, like a father to his child. You easily picked up that it was the same tone he used with Grogu.

Oh yes, it seemed he was only simply... tolerating you at this point.

The third time was the first time you’d ever felt so alone in his presence, and it came to pass that it wouldn’t be the last. He had been gone for two days, out on the desolate planet of Jakku, leaving you and the kid alone and bored in the ship, giving him no option but to nap his time away and giving you no option but to pass the time by cleaning the ship thoroughly, making it practically sparkle. And when you heard the door opening two days later, you jumped to your feet to greet your bounty hunter with a warm and proud welcome, only to be tentatively hugged, patted on the back, and brushed past, his beskar clad shoulder bumping yours. Not even an apology was spoken.

Tears built up in your eyes while frustration and loneliness built up in your heart, and you marched to the cockpit to talk to him.

As soon as you entered the cockpit, you sunk down in the copilot’s chair and you stayed there in silence, waiting for him to recognize your presence.

He never did.

So you took it into your own hands.

Thoughts of elaborate ways to word your concerns and lighthearted pre-conversation were all flushed away by your first round of tears and you gasped his name.

Now, he turned to you. Now he acknowledged your presence next to him in the cockpit. Nonverbally, of course.

“What is wrong? What is happening to us?” You ask, desperately begging for an answer from him, and part of you wished he’d lie to you, but the other part wanted honesty.

He gave you neither and just stayed silent, the tail ends of a sigh passing his vocoder and he hung his head just a bit, laying his hands down on his thighs.

“Please.” You begged again, reaching up to pointlessly wipe your eyes. It didn’t matter, more tears fell.

It was a long moment of silence before he spoke, his head still hung, “Y/n... Sometimes, things don’t always go the way we want them to go.”

“That’s not an answer!” You cried and shook your head, not having the will to look at him, “Please just tell me this is in my head, that I’m being crazy, Din. Please.”

“I’m sorry.” You heard him whisper and then fall silent again. Your hands shook and you stared down at them, your tears melting everything together to be seen as a blur, and you couldn’t seem to breathe.

“I’ll take you back to Coruscant. I’m sorry.” He mumbled and turned back to the control panel, staying characteristically silent as he moved the ship up into the atmosphere.

You numbly stood up and stumbled your way back into the hull, trying to put as much distance as you could between you and Din.

The ride to Coruscant was silent, and if the baby was awake, he didn’t make any noise. You sat on the same crate he did when you first noticed something was wrong, and you clasped your shaking hands together.

Truth be told, you weren’t ready to lose him. How could you be? He’d saved you, he’d loved you, he’d given you loving sanctuary when you needed it most, and he’d become your home when you couldn’t bear yours. You wondered what made him want to pull away, what made his love wane, what weakened, cut, and then stomped on the string of gold that held the two of your hearts together as one. Surely, you couldn’t have felt that alone. It had to have been reciprocated... right?

Perhaps hours had passed while you sat on that crate, maybe seconds, days, years, you didn’t know. But finally you felt the familiar shake of the landing gear, and when you felt the jolt of hitting the ground, your head slowly raised. Din had already climbed down the ladder and was opening the door for you, and you scurried past him, wanting to get back to your old house and cry.

But his hand caught your wrist and he looked into your teary, red eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

You yanked your wrist from his grip and you stared at him for a moment more before letting out a cruel, sad laugh, and you ran off, away from him, off of the ship, into the deep city of Coruscant.

—

The first time Din found himself regretting making you leave was when he stood in some run down, shady little market on the Ring of Kafrene. At first, he felt like he made the right decision, because of course, this was no life for a beautiful person such as yourself. He’d be your downfall, your death, he brought danger. You didn’t deserve that. But there he stood in a shabby marketplace when he saw a vendor with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. The kid picked up on this, and he whined, because arguably, he missed you even more than Din.

The second time that he realized he wanted you to come home to him was when the child began to wail while they were on the ship, traveling back to Nevarro. As much as he tried, he couldn’t get the baby to quiet down like you could with your gentle voice and motherly disposition, your kind smile and gentle touch, feather light across his skin... Oh yes, he missed you like he’d never missed anyone.

And the third time? The third time he decided he missed you was the first waking moment from a dream about you. A dream where the two of you were happy, together, you were holding his hand and he was holding you.

But the third time hurt the most because he realized that it was by his own hand, because of his own doing that he could never get you back. He could never fix the millions of pieces of your shattered heart that were scattered all over his ship, out the door, and made a trail all the way to Coruscant.

So now, all he could do was sit back, watch his mistakes, and simply tolerate it.

#star wars #fanfiction #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x y/n #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x you #mando imagine #baby yoda #baby grogu #star wars x reader #star wars imagine

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newswcanonprompts · 4 years

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prompt #37 - Jedi are like Magpies and love their clones

sorry we haven’t posted in forever! to make up for it, i’m posting one of our longest and detailed prompts (maybe even the longest)- this came from a LONG discussion a few weeks back, and it was a lot of fun. this idea morphed a ton, and it became this huge thing. this is personally my favorite one, so hope you enjoy!

Jedi collect trinkets and wear them!!! Hand them to others as a very important gift

The Clones dont really get it, but they are happy

The jedi make them things like jewelry, keychains, little beaded things, colored strings, they’ll give them feathers, you name it

Its another way to show that they are individuals, and that the jedi know them specifically

The veteran clones have long keychain type things and the shiny clones want them very much and it’s something they look forward to

The padawans hand the commanders things and being sad when the CC’s tell them they can’t take them into battle

Krell gets found out earlier.

“Okay, look, i know krell is… well, he is *something* and i don’t want to accuse a master of the order but have you looked at his men?! where the hell are their keychains?!”

The padawans stage a protest at the senate because how else are they going to make sure that their troops know they are loved and get their trinkets

This idea can get angsty really quickly (finding trinkets after battles, in ship crashes, or post-order 66), but we won’t do that because of how angsty this server already is, we need some fluff sometimes

Palaptine can commit self delete

Clones will paint armor for padawans cause that is how they show honor and stuff

The clones, upon figuring out what they mean, give their jedi trinkets also

Mirialan padawan holding armor they got: “ITS GREEN LIKE ME!”

There are little figurines, some painted rocks, some little shiny things found on the battlefield

The clones who aren’t as good with their hands singing songs or telling stories

The jedi record them and keep them on little datachips that they keep on them at all times

Barriss doesn’t go bad because this is happy time

The jedi padawans start a riot / protest outside the senate building because some clones got their trinkets taken away by asshole civilians because they’re “not human”, just copies

The (now very pissed off) jedi sprung into action

If a snooty senator(s) takes away a clone’s trinket, the jedi just sit back and grind to a halt. Because if the clones, the PEOPLE WHO PROTECT THE REPUBLIC, are gonna get treated like that, the war can wait

The jedi knights and masters just meditate wherever the padawans are protesting

This is done to ‘keep the peace’

If anakin hears a snooty senator degrade the clones, he starts ranting and shouting about their individuality and accomplishments, while pointing at each trinket.

Someone live streams this

Luminara joins in (barriss is right behind)

Aayla too

Luminara, anakin, aayla, tag teamed shouted speech

Ahsoka and barriss are being held back by the CC’s (ahsoka is making some very crude hand gestures and barriss is like “i can name every bone in your body as i break it” - cause barriss has all that healer knowledge)

Once these three are done, mace windu comes along with the council. They think mace is going to scold the three of them until mace starts shouting at the senators too. The council just lets mace do all the talking.

This is the most watched live stream this year. It’s very funny and starts a ton of memes (obi wans face, yoda meditating, the look of “oh shit” on the original snooty senator’s face, the look of surprise on everyone when mace starts shouting too - there is also a gif made of the council looking at the situation, looking at themselves (mostly mace) and then they all step back to let mace do the talking, the clones faces when they see that three jedi and then the jedi high council are defending them)

Mace, rolling up his sleeves: “okay let’s do this”

The senators: backing away in fear

Obi wan might commit a war crime right now because no way people can talk about his troops like that

Obi wan: “am i allowed to kill a senator?”

Cody: “General, do not-”

This whole thing leads to a massive debate and overwhelmingly good PR for the jedi and clones

Shady sheev doesn’t like that. Good PR for the jedi? No thank you. But since this is a fixit he gets his ass kicked later on so everything’s fine (skeevy sheev has to scramble to try to fix his plans though)

All the padawans from that one lightsaber episode (the one on ilum where the younglings got their kyber crystals) are there and SHIT’S GOING DOWN

Petro in particular is very close to kicking someone’s ass

Caleb dume is there also.

“Master depa said we should never raise our blades in revenge or anger. But this is not revenge.” this is war, this is justice, this is defense of a defenseless group

Padme also joins in all of this (but much more calmly)

She also might make some passive aggressive comments about the snooty senators trash outfit

She and all her senator friends are gonna blacklist the original culprit

Padme and bail organa (they also got help from many jedi) put in the clone rights bill the next day

In the halls outside the debate chamber, padme threatens to gut people with her hair pins if they don’t vote in her favor

sure, it’s *technically* extortion, but come on, who’s gonna stop her? those pins are pointy y’all

Anakin tried to help draft / present the bill but he spent most of his time ranting about the injustices the clones have to face (leia had to get it from someone)

Anakin, out of breath: “AND ALL YOU SENATORS JUST SIT HERE, DOING NOTHING, WHEN THEY’RE OUT THERE DYING FOR YOU-”

Padme: “okay ani i got this, drink some water please”

Ahsoka also jumps in

Plo, who’s watching the debate: “little ‘soka, please don’t hurt anyone” (but he’s not about to stop her, after all these are his sons we’re talking about)

If someone said “well they’re not slaves?” anakin would go OFF. if you thought he was angry before… you got another thing coming.

“I AM A FREED SLAVE! I KNOW WHAT IT IS LIKE! THESE MEN HAVE LESS RIGHTS THAN I DID AS A SLAVE!”

If the public doesn’t know about his childhood before, they do now

Imagine the shock

Padme: “Ani, deep breaths, it’s gonna be okay.”

Also padme, to the other senators: “well i mean he’s not wrong you assholes”

Padme is also making very well timed comments and suggestions. It’s the most successful day she’s had since she became senator

She’s also revealing all the senators’ dirty secrets

Padme: “oh, senator so-and-so, i released all your finances and your voting history on the holonet. I’m sure your supporters will love that you’re embezzling funds. Oh, you lost your support? Tragic.”

The jedi also have dirt on everyone and they just casually let everything slip like they weren’t secrets

Shady sheev Palpacreep is in his little podium thing during the debate, and he is very pissed, because his plan is getting ruined, but he can’t let it show or else people will discover the truth about him

Anakin: “isn’t it great that we’re finally doing something about it?”

Sheev, pained: “Of course-”

This whole debate is still live streamed - and it’s very popular

The senate who made the original comment and started all of this is #cancelled

This is the greatest thing the galaxy has ever seen / watched because drama

If a jedi dies, and they aren’t brought back to the temple, they are burned with the other dead on the battlefield. Young padawans take their master’s trinkets in remembrance, wanting to follow their path and have tangible proof that the master passed into the force but that they left their mark in the world

You do not burn the trinkets. Krell tried once. It almost started a jedi civil war (maybe that’s how he gets found out)

Or maybe krell was found out because he gives zero trinkets to his men, and everyone caught on and were like “hey wtf man”

But if you wanna make it angsty ( cough cough umbara ) then krell tells the 501st to remove / burn / throw out their trinkets or he’d do it for them

He gives them an example by slicing a very special one that anakin and ahsoka both gave to rex

Krell also slices one of dogma’s. It was the only one dogma had because he was newish to the battalion at the time and wasn’t sure if accepting the trinkets was against regs or not. Krell slashes it and dogma doesn’t say anything but there were tears in his eyes

All the jedi who find out what happened replace all the trinkets so fast. They also give krell’s men a shit ton of presents.

Krell’s men have no idea what to do with them, but they are so touched a few shed tears when they get them

The clones get small tattoos of patterns that the little padawans drew for the men

The tattoos are small because some of them *might* just be random squiggles but the padawans looked so happy the clones just had to get them tattooed

Anakin orders japor wood with padme's bank account to make snippets for the clones because it’s not only a jedi thing, it’s from anakin's homeworld - and that’s like the highest praise you can get from him

The clones might not know exactly what it means but they know its super special

Padme figures out a way to buy japor wood in bulk. Anakin is very touched by this

When snooty senators start badmouthing clones, yoda just sits there and meditates to drive the senators nuts

“Sitting, i am, because stand you bitches, i cannot”

Padme gets many trinkets from the 501st because they all *know* about her and anakin

Any trinkets that she gets she likes to incorporate into her outfits (like the warrior fashionista that she is)

She embroiders some of them into her dresses and hairpieces

They both get a TON of trinkets when the twins are born

Padme also gives trinkets to the 501st, some of the 212th, and all of the coruscant guard. Especially fox cause she sees all the work he does and the senators he has to deal with

She’s besties with the coruscant guard. Like yeah, she knows the 501st and they know about her and anakin (and she’s one of them because of it) but the guard is who she’s always with

She probably wore red on debate day to represent them

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tanyawritesstories · 3 years

Text

Bad Enough | Commander Fox x Reader

This sassy fucker needed a rival. A hot rival who he can't stand, but he also wants writhing underneath him. 😉

Word count: 3,530

Warnings: NSFW, smut, hate sex, arguing, dirty talk, choking, Fox is a smug bitch, brat taming?

•••

The people of Coruscant were safe, until the war started. Your job had been safe too until the Coruscant Guard was created. Now your security force was at risk of being disbanded. It was all because of him, Commander Fox.

The Commander in charge of the Coruscant Guard and your number one enemy. You weren't fond of the idea of another protective force on Coruscant when yours was perfectly fine. Your police force was made of hardworking Coruscanti citizens of numerous different species and gender orientations, all who were devoted to their job. You were willing to work with the new Guard in the beginning, that was before Commander Fox destroyed all hope of that. Dismissing your offers to work together and disregarding the existence of your police force. You despised him and he despised you. The feeling was mutual. You actually got along with his men rather well, greeting them whenever you'd see them out patrolling, and they were always nice to you back. But their leader made your blood boil. Thank the maker your offices were in different buildings, though said buildings weren't as far apart as you would like.

You both worked directly with the Chancellor and he trusted you both, calling upon each of your forces equally. Although you hated when he called you both into his office to discuss the state of the planet's inhabitants. Which is exactly the predicament you found yourself in now. Standing a few feet away from your rival in front of the Chancellor's desk. You stood as tall and straight as you could with your hands behind your back, expression stern but compliant. You were glad Fox had his helmet on as he stood not far from you.

The thing that made your relationship with Fox worse was that, under the obnoxious red and white helmet, was a very attractive man. You would never admit that though, sometimes you were mad at your own mind for letting those thoughts occupy your brain. You were just thankful when he wore his helmet and you hoped he didn’t know the effect he had on you. Other than to make you fume, that is.

“I had hoped you would both join together in bringing this citizen to justice, he is becoming a danger to the people,” the Chancellor informed. “He has been seen going between each of your separate sectors. I believe the best way to catch him would be to join forces on this assignment.”

That was the last thing you wanted to hear.

“My men will get right on it,” Fox said. You weren’t going to be outdone. “My force will have him in prison by tonight,” you assured. You could see Fox turn to look at you out of the corner of your eye. “He was last seen in my sector,” Fox said, keeping his voice level. You turned your head, looking into the black line that was his vision. “So?” You said flatly, “Doesn’t mean I cannot step foot there. Besides, I’ve dealt with this suspect before, I know all his moves. It’ll be easy for me.” Fox clenched his fists, getting angry. “My men can adapt to any situation and they’re faster, we’re far more efficient,” the frustration was clearly evident in his voice now. “Efficient at what exactly?” You snapped, crossing your arms and facing him completely. “Actually completing our assigned missions,” he hissed.

“I’m sure you can work out something, as long as it results in this man being put in a cell,” the chancellor interrupted, “you’re both dismissed.” You and Fox continued to glare at each other until you decided to leave first.

That was the issue of that week, the next was a dispute over who would escort the Chancellor to Naboo, after that it was a fiasco over the infiltration of a shady club run by wanted criminals, then it was the investigation of several robberies in the upper levels, during which you nearly socked Fox right in the face if you hadn’t have been interrupted. Currently, it was a tug of war over a new sector of the lower levels that needed patrolling. The chancellor had sent messages to both you and Fox telling you both to discuss it together, you had a feeling the Chancellor was trying to get you and Fox to get along, it was never going to happen. You immediately moved your officers into the new sector before Fox could do anything about it.

You were sat at your desk looking through files and finishing reports when there was a knock at your door. “Come in.” The door slid open to reveal your only favorite high ranking clone in the entire Guard. “Thire! Good to see you,” you got up from your desk and met him on the other side of it. “Good to see you too, Y/N,” he greeted with a half smile. “What brings you here?” You asked. “Fox wants to speak to you, he asked me to come along.”

You weren’t surprised, but you were annoyed that Fox went as far as to bring Thire with him, knowing you liked the Lieutenant and were more likely to cooperate with him. If that’s what Fox thought, he had another thing coming.

“I’ll speak to him, bring him in,” you said. Thire pressed his comm, “she’ll talk to you, Commander. You can come in.” The door opened again and Fox stepped in only far enough for the door to close behind him. Unfortunately for you he had his helmet off and tucked under one arm. You looked him up and down for a second, why did he have to be so hot! It wasn’t fair, to your womanhood or your reputation.

You were almost mad at the fact that you had had several wet dreams involving the Guard Commander. If he didn’t infuriate you so much you might be tempted to act on it.

“I think I can talk to the Commander alone, Thire. Thank you,” you said. You could see Fox watching your interaction from your peripheral vision. You kissed Thire on the cheek, “Would you mind waiting outside, Thire?” You asked sweetly. The stunned Lieutenant flushed red and subconsciously lifted his hand to where you kissed his cheek. You could see Fox, his face twisted into an angry grimace. “Y-yeah, sure, I’ll uh, I’ll do that,” he stuttered making his way out of the office. Your nice demeanor fell as soon as the door closed.

“What do you want?” You snapped, going to sit back down at your desk. “I want to know why you moved your men into my sector,” he hissed, standing on the other side of your desk. You laughed out loud, “Yours? I recalled the Chancellor’s message mentioning my name in there too,” you turned your attention to your datapad. “I tend to skip over anything with your name in it,” he said. “That would explain it, you missed the important parts then,” you said flatly.

Fox slammed his hand flat on your desk, causing you to look up. “Get your men out of my sector,” he growled, leaning on your desk. Why did he have to growl like that, it wasn’t helping your secret situation. You stood up and leaned forwards on your desk, your face uncomfortably close to his. At your angle you had unknowingly put Fox in the perfect spot to see down your already low cut shirt. He stared at your cleavage for a few seconds before looking back to your face. “I suggest you deal with it, and get out before I find a reason to throw you in prison,” you said sharply. Fox shoved himself off your desk and walked to the door. “This isn’t over, you’ll regret crossing me,” he seethed, putting his helmet on. “Out!” You yelled. You could hear him huff before he exited your office.

A few days later some of your officers informed you that they had been told that your new sector was being taken over by the Coruscant Guard. They had been told that it was issued by the Chancellor but you knew that wasn’t true, the Chancellor would have told you as he usually did. You knew this was Fox just doing it to get back at you. You expected him to do something to get back at you but not something this drastic. The fact that he lied to your men, saying that it was the Chancellor’s orders, was what made you furious. You were thoroughly pissed and decided to confront Fox right then and there while you had enough anger fueled confidence to do so.

He was sitting at his desk looking through his datapad when you burst into his office without warning. “What the kriff is wrong with you?” You snarled, standing in front of his desk with your hands on your hips. He glanced up at you, not looking the slightest bit agitated. “What do you mean?” He asked, returning his attention back to his reports. “You know damn well what I mean, you took over my sector and lied to my men to get what you wanted! All because you wanted to get back at me,” you nearly shouted. He still paid you no mind and kept his eyes on his datapad. “I did warn you,” he stated. “I’m talking to you, can you at least acknowledge that?” You were tired of his disregarding you and wanted his attention so he would know you were serious. “I don’t usually acknowledge minor issues,” he said darkly.

That was it. You clenched your hand into a fist and hit his helmet with as much force as you could. It launched off his desk and hit the wall with a loud bang, that got his attention. He glared at you setting his datapad down, no doubt about to lay into you. “Now, fucking listen to me," you fumed, "I’ve had it with your shit and if you don’t move your troopers out of my area, I’ll go to the Chancellor, and if he doesn’t do anything I’ll go to-”

“You need an attitude adjustment,” Fox cut in, standing up. You were taken aback, “What?” “You need to watch your attitude,” he said again. “Oh, I need to?” “You need to be put in your place, cyare,” Fox said, his voice low. You didn’t know what that word meant but you knew his low tone of voice was making your insides stir deliciously, you tried to ignore it and form a sharp response.

“I bet you’ve never been bossed around before, have you? You’re a spoiled little brat,” Fox voiced. “What did you just call me?” You hissed. “You are, you’re a little brat,” he teased, “a brat who needs the attitude fucked out of her.”

Your tough exterior fell, was there a way he knew about the sexually charged feelings you had for him? You sighed softly, looking at the floor, desperately trying to regain your confidence after being called out. You heard footsteps and saw his boots in front of you. He took your chin in his thumb and forefinger and tilted your head up to look at him.

“You haven’t been fucked good in a long time, huh?” He said smugly. You swatted his hand away from your face. “None of your business,” you snapped, looking away. How did he know all this! “I’m right, aren’t I? I can’t be the only one who feels the sexual tension between us,” he moved closer to you. You were searching like mad for a thread of confidence or stoicism, but you weren’t finding any.

“I hate you,” was all you could muster. “And I hate you,” he responded, “I hate the way I can’t stop thinking about you, I hate how hard you make me all the time, I hate that you’re the only thing I jerk off to, I hate the powerful urge I have to bend you over my desk and fuck you till you’re screaming my name.”

Your breathing sped up with his every word, you had no idea he felt the same way you did. But you couldn’t fall to that level you just couldn’t, you hated him after all, or at least you thought you did. You slapped Fox across the face, trying to keep a shred of sanity when the object of your wet dreams was confessing he wanted you as bad as you wanted him. The look he gave you after was almost scary and you knew immediately that you were in trouble.

“Alright,” was all he said before he brought your lips to his in a bruising kiss. You were stunned out of your mind but kissed back, Fox put a strong hand on the back of your neck to keep you in place. You put your hands on his shoulders and pushed, trying to get him off you, which you weren’t sure you wanted, as you continued to kiss him back. If you weren’t wet before you certainly were now. You could feel your thighs getting sticky, shocks of pleasure going straight to your core from everywhere in your body, your mind screaming no and your cunt screaming yes.

Fox grabbed your resisting hands and slammed you into the wall, pinning your hands above your head and shoving an armored thigh between your legs. You whimpered at the friction on your heat, instinctively beginning to grind against it. He released your lips and stared at you, his dark orbs clouded with lust and frustration, a deadly attractive combination.

“Seems you don’t know what you want, little dove,” he observed, “your mind is telling you no but your sex is telling you yes, isn’t it?” You nodded frantically. Fox moved his thigh away from your legs and you whined. “You gotta tell me what you want, dove. Do you want me to pound that sweet little pussy of yours or do you want me to let you go?”

The small part of your brain that still held sanity was glad he was asking you what you wanted, but you only wanted one thing right now.

You nodded, not wanting to verbally admit that you wanted him, though with the friction on your womanhood gone you were more willing. “You gotta tell me out loud, dove,” Fox said, running his thumb over your bottom lip, his other hand firmly keeping both of yours secured. “I want you,” you said softly. “Say what I said, dove. I need you to be louder, what do you want me to do to you?”

You rolled your eyes, mind finally submitting to him. “Please ruin my pussy, Fox. I need it so badly,” you moaned out. He smirked devilishly, “that’s what I thought.”

He skillfully used one hand to yank your trousers and panties down to your knees, you kicked them off the rest of the way. You suddenly felt very vulnerable in front of the Commander, your legs closing a little. "Now you’re acting all shy, what happened to the loud mouthed little brat I was dealing with earlier?” He mocked. Fox ran his fingers teasingly over your inner thigh and that got you frustrated again. You jumped up and wrapped your legs around Fox’s waist, pulling him flush against you, making him grunt in surprise. The cold, hard material of his armor collided with your wet, warm folds, sending a pleasant sensation through your body.

“How ‘bout you just fuck me already,” you hissed with a challenging smirk. Fox’s expression turned serious again, “There she is.” He took his unoccupied hand and put his middle finger in his mouth, pulling off the glove in one fluid motion. It was one of the sexiest things you had ever seen. He stuck two fingers in your mouth and you greedily sucked on them. Fox watched you intently as you coated his fingers in saliva, audibly sighing when he pulled them out of your mouth. A string of saliva connected his fingers and your mouth, breaking and falling onto your chin and lips when he pulled his fingers far enough away. Your eyes glazed over with hunger and impatience, practically begging him to show you no mercy.

He crushed his lips with yours again, the sloppy clashing of lips and tongue as you both fought for dominance over each other’s mouths. Fox won when he brought his soaked fingers to your core, causing you to moan in his mouth. Electric like shocks going through your stomach as he rubbed your clit tortuously slow, teasing you again. He broke away from your lips and started kissing and sucking on your neck.

“Can you hurry up and get on with it, I have other things I could be doing,” you huffed impatiently. Fox bit onto your skin upon hearing your remark. “Fucking brat,” he seethed, sucking another dark mark into your neck, “you’re a pain in the ass.” You giggled, “ooh, the good kind or bad kind of pain?” You sassed. He growled and thrusted his two teasing fingers knuckle deep into your throbbing pussy. The noise you made was somewhere between a moan and a gasp in pain. He drew back from your neck, prying your legs from his waist and finally releasing your hands only to bring his now free hand to wrap around your neck in a firm hold.

He took a step back to look at you better, “You’re really asking for it with that attitude, aren’t you?” You smirked smugly, your confidence returning finally. “Hard and fast, baby,” you replied with a wink. Fox used his hand to undo the fasteners on his codpiece, maneuvering it until it fell to the floor. “You need help with the rest?” You offered. “Nope,” he answered quickly, stepping in close to you again, “because that’s all that’s coming off, dove.” You gasped, chest rising and falling slowly, turned on even more by the idea of him fucking you in his armor.

He removed his other glove and pulled his blacks down enough to free his hard and aching cock, red, swollen, and leaking precum. You stared unashamedly at his length as it rested on your stomach. He was big, not only long but thick. You reached to touch him but he batted your hand away, hoisting you into his arms and pushing you harder into the wall to make sure you wouldn’t slip. You wrapped your legs around his hips and hung onto his armored shoulders. Fox lined himself up and pushed into you surprisingly slow, a guttural groan emitting from him. You hissed in pain at the stretch until he slid all the way in, moaning out when he nestled deep inside of you. Your breathing was accelerated and your whole body was on fire with pleasure. Fox laid his head on your shoulder trying to ground himself and gain his composure.

“Kriff you’re tight, stars,” he breathed, “feel s’good around me.” You were so dazed with euphoria that you didn’t care how pathetic you sounded. “Fox,” you moaned, “please move, please!” He grasped your hip with one hand and placed the other on the back of your neck, pulling you into another heated kiss. He began thrusting, shallowly at first, gaining momentum, going slow but hard. He was teasing again.

"Fox, I swear, if you don't-"

"If I don't what, dove? You want me to go faster, want me to fuck you so hard you can barely walk tomorrow? Hmm?"

"Yes, yes please, Fox please," you whined. You wormed your fingers into his short hair, dragging your nails over his scalp. He growled and picked up his pace, slamming into you. The only thing your mind could process was how much pleasure was coursing through you. You chanted Fox's name like a plea, your moans and cries mixing with his grunts and growls.

You could feel yourself getting close to the edge, your walls contracting against his cock. "I know you're close, dove. Can feel you squeezing me-fuck, you gonna cum around my cock?" He groaned out. You were able to moan out a yes just before he hit that secret spot inside you.

"Fox!" You screamed, "oh Fox, I'm gonna cum!" He took one hand and moved it down to massage your clit, "where do you want me to cum, dove?" "Inside me, Fox. Please," you begged. He groaned, "maker, you're such a dirty little thing." He continued to work your clit with his thumb and then stuck his index finger inside, stroking your upper walls. The extra stretch was all it took. You came hard, clenching down on Fox, white hot pleasure shooting through you. Fox thrusted a few more times before spilling his seed deep within you, moaning at how hard you were clamping down on him, milking him for everything he had.

He made sure not to drop you as you both stilled and waited for your breathing and heart rate to even out. Fox stayed seated within you, he kissed you on the jaw and brought his eyes to yours.

"Do you still hate me?" He asked.

"Ask me again after round two," you replied.

#star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #commander fox #commander fox x reader

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shabre-legacy · 3 years

Text

Fluffy prompts one-shot

@jbnonsense, I’m so sorry this one took so long, I wrote most of it, then lost the notebook. But it’s finally done. I hope you like it. As requested Fluffy prompts #2 “Are you jealous?” “No…maybe.” for Leikael and Corso

Leikael sighed as she entered the cantina. Usually she loved places like this, but usually they were a bit more beat-up and smoke-filled, with Sabbac tables and occasional gunfire and plenty of shady deals. Places like this where fancy cocktails were served in fancy glasses, suits and dresses were a must and no weapons were allowed; these types of places were strange to her. She could barely tell Bowdarr was still a step behind her due to the crowd around the lower bar. The long skirt swished around her ankles as she made her way across the floor to the more exclusive, less crowded and unfortunately even fancier part of the cantina where live music was playing and the night’s job was taking place.

Bowdarr stayed right behind her as they made their way over to the bar and ordered a round of drinks; playing his role as her bodyguard perfectly. They both knew she didn’t actually need one. The thigh holster and the vibroblade along her back made sure of that, but tonight they had to maintain their covers. Hers was a wealthy socialite, living off daddy’s money, therefore she’d obviously have a bodyguard for a night out in lower Coruscant.

She took a sip of her cocktail, too sweet, too weak, too fancy for her tastes; and scanned the room for her crew. Akaavi was right where she expected her to be, sitting at a table off to the side, nursing a drink of something dark (and strong if Leikael knew her tastes.) The unmistakable gleam of her Mandalorian armor keeping the area immediately around her clear.

Risha was out on the dance floor nearby, twirling around in her soft, shimmery silvery gown. She looked far more at ease in a dress then Leikael felt. Akaavi caught her eye, tipping her glass slightly in Kael’s direction before returning her gaze to Risha. A silent signal that she was still in her role and was keeping an eye on her. They both watched the other woman twirl around with her partner, stepping smoothly in her 4 inch heels. Honestly, Leikael wasn’t sure how she did it. Risha was a spacer, a freighter bum, a ship rat, just like her. They both preferred blasters on their belts, sturdy boots on their feet and engine grease on their hands to this fancy shit. Risha understood how it worked though, and usually made sure they looked right for these sorts of jobs, and she somehow managed to move smoothly and handle the dress and the makeup and make it all look effortless; while Leikael ended up looking more like a bumbling Bantha.

She quickly scanned the rest of the upper level for the last member of her crew. Corso was also following their plan and was right where he was supposed to be; in the middle of the dance floor. Tonight’s target, the pretty blonde currently twirling around and giggling in his arms.

It had taken a lot of effort to persuade Corso to be the frontman on this one. They’d had a buyer lined up for some valuable and expensive merchandise. The kind that wasn’t illegal, but was highly taxed, a pain to get legally and the Exchange wanted a monopoly on the black market. Unfortunately, the pressure from the Exchange and Black Sun had sent the seller underground and the only one who knew where was his daughter; the girl Corso was dancing with.

Corso had been reluctant to be the face of a con that required seducing the sellers daughter, so that she’d hand over the location she’d so far been unwilling to share. Even when both Kael and Risha explained that all he’d be doing is spending a few hours drinking and dancing with a pretty girl, he still didn’t like it. Felt wrong to mess with a lady’s heart like that, he’d said. Also he was courting Leikael, that was serious to him, didn’t matter that Kael knew and was ok with it, such behavior, for any reason, felt wrong. Akaavi seemed to agree with him. Risha had found that odd, but Kael wasn’t surprised. Mandalorians took things like courting and relationships real serious. Though a large part of that was probably due to their focus on raising kids. What had Cradu called it again? ‘The Mandalorian parent instinct?’ whatever it was, it was probably the most downright adorable thing about them.

It had taken half an hour of discussion, failed bribes and more than one promise from her that if he was really that uncomfortable with the plan, they’d try and find another way of finding their seller, before Corso agreed. Risha had immediately dragged him out to get suited up for his cover.

From what they could tell, their target liked rich, handsome and dumb men that she could manipulate. They could make Corso look rich, that was easy. He already looked so damn good that sometimes Kael just had to stare for a few minutes. And he could play dumb. He was smart, very smart and he learned quick, but he didn’t have much of a formal education. While he was ok with that, he knew how others sometimes looked at him. So he was often content to play the part of the dumb farmboy and let others underestimate him until he was ready to change that perception. And he could be so charming when he wanted to be. He could handle this job.

He could handle it, but Leikael suddenly wasn’t sure if she could. A strong desire to go out and grab their target by her hair and throw her across the room had jumped into her mind.

As she stood at the bar, false smile plastered on, sipping at yet another weak cocktail (she really needed to get something stronger), yet another one of the men wandering around the room made his way over and asked her to dance.

Even the effort to form a polite, in-character rejection felt irritating. She loved dancing, adored it. It had been the part of this job she’d been looking forward to most. She may have to wear a stupid dress with a useless skirt and pretend to be just another vapid waste of a socialite and wear these awful, awful heels and only one vibroblade and a single holdout blaster, but at least she’d get to dance. Now though, watching Corso just owning the dance floor with that insipid blonde viper, she wasn’t in any mood to dance.

‘It’s just a job’, she muttered silently to herself, turning back to the bar and getting herself a shot of whiskey, needing something stronger with some bite. “It’s just a job, no need to be making it personal.’ The woman didn’t know Corso had someone else in his life. Siths hells, she didn’t even know his real name. As far as she was concerned, Corso was the son of some fancypants Kriffar merchant on Coruscant to strike some deals with some senators. She didn’t know who he really was. It was a role, a job, something she’d asked him to do, so there wasn’t a reason for her to be getting this upset.

But she still couldn’t help the stab in her heart as she watched him dance. She’d never had the chance to see him like this. Risha had told her he was good, but usually when they were at a cantina with room to dance, they were working, or it was a dangerous area, both scenarios meaning Corso was wearing that heavy armor he always worse, or they were exhausted, in which case they didn’t move from their table. She’d missed out. She simply watched as he confidently led the girl across the floor in a complex series of steps. His muscles flexed as he spun her around, his whole body moving in time with the music, hips swaying with the beat. He looked almost at home out there. She’d always admired, not only how strong he was, but how well he knew how to use his strength, usually in combat, but also just around the ship.

She wanted to slam him up against a wall, show him how much she liked the sight of his dancing, she wanted the target away from him, she… She wanted to be the one he was dancing with. To have him hold her, and spin her around, she wanted to be the one feeling all those hard-earned muscles flex under her hands as he dipped her or pulled her in close. She wanted all his attention focused on her.

As she silently watched as casually as she could, the song came to an end and the band started up with a faster one. Corso leaned down and said something to the girl before placing his hand on her back and walking together over to the bar. They stood there, drinks in hand, talking for a few minutes. Then she saw Corso lean over and say something as he signaled that he got what they needed. Akaavi pushed a button on her gauntlet and just as planned and programmed, the target pulled out her commpad and looked at it for a moment before leaning in to flirt with Corso for another moment. Leikael couldn’t stand watching another moment. She turned and ordered another drink. The job was done, she could now get drunk and forget the whole night. The bartender looked at her like she was crazy when she ordered a Starshine Surprise, but didn’t argue. They probably weren’t common here, but she needed the punch.

She didn’t see the woman walk out of the club, or Corso walk over to her. She didn’t notice until Corso leaned on the bar next to her and placed his hand on hers as she grabbed for her drink.

“I think that went well, got what we needed, and faster then planned too.”

She didn’t even look at him. “Yep.”

He squeezed her hand as she used the other to take a swig of her drink. “Is everything ok? You’re usually happy when a job goes right. Did something happen?”

She sighed, how like him to be concerned when she was in a mood. “Nope. Everything is just fine.”

Kael stared at the cup in her hand, wondering if she could make it catch fire if she stared hard enough, until Corso gently reached over and turned her face to his. He studied her for a minute before he almost smiled. “Are you.. Are you actually jealous?” He asked just a hint of laughter in his tone.

“No. Of course not.” She snapped back as she yanked her head away and returned her stare to her cup. Corso just leaned on the bar more and watched her for a moment. Finally, she sighed and forced out a grumbled “Maybe” just loud enough for him to hear. That made Corso start laughing, that stupid grin across his face. It only lasted a moment, but it made the heat in her cheeks rise. Jealousy wasn’t a familiar emotion to her. She didn’t know why she’d gotten so jealous over Corso working a job, and she didn’t like it at all. And she also didn’t like the fact that Corso somehow found it funny.

The band had gotten through several more songs by this point, and were striking up another good dancing song as Corso’s laughter eased off and he looked at Kael for a moment before holding out a hand where she would see it. “Dance with me?”

She glanced up, “what?”

“Dance with me. I know for a fact I haven’t had the chance to take you dancin’ yet, and we’re already here” He smiled that stupid grin with those soft eyes that always made her melt.

She sighed, downed the rest of her drink and took his hand. He led her out to the floor and pulled her close to him, keeping the steps simple and sweet. After a few moments, he leaned down enough to speak almost directly in her ear, making sure she could hear him. “You know I’ve only got eyes for you, darlin’. Doesn’t matter what we gotta do for work. You’re the one I’m courting. Nobody else could ever get my attention. I’m yours, long as you’ll have me.” She looked at him and smiled softly, she understood, she finally got how he must feel every time she flirted with someone to make the job easier. They’d do what they needed to, but she had his heart, and he had hers. They were ok.

She stretched up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek as the band changed songs again. This one was faster, heavier, a bit more sensuous. She only had a moment as Corso grinned down at her and pulled her even closer as they fell into the dance. The rest of the crew slipped out of the cantina, leaving the two of them out on the floor, sorting everything out and enjoying the rest of the night.

#swtor #prompts #my writing #my ocs #leikael/corso #jbnonsense #otp: starmates

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rangerslayer-97 · 3 years

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q’s for muses who had a… r o u g h childhood - 4, 6, 10 for the OC of your choice!

I'll go a combination of my 2 OCs: Violcrik and Kateake since they did share the trauma before being separated.

~~~~~

4) Who in their life was most responsible for your muse’s trauma?

Ans: For Kateake and Violcrik before the events of the Prologue of their respective class stories, their father, first name unknown, but was a Baliss, and was responsible for their trauma. For Violcrik, the trauma never stopped. The Sacking of Coruscant was next to be responsible, followed by her time with Black Sun. Kat experienced plenty of shady dealings in Imperial space after running away from Alderaan, but their father caused most of the trauma.

6) What was the worst/most traumatic moment in their childhood?

Ans: To start off with Violcrik, whom I say is the most traumatised of the Baliss siblings, the worst was her experience of the Sacking of Coruscant and the time she spent with Black Sun. We all know the Sacking was historically devastating on the Republic, the capital planet up in flames for weeks, brought to rubble and ruin, the Supreme Chancellor dead and the planet left in Imperial hands until the Treaty of Coruscant was signed by key signatories. Violcrik was in the temple at the time, hiding with a bunch of other Younglings and Initiates in a different room away from the Grand Hall where Master Zallow and other Jedi Knights, Consulars and Masters fought Malgus. The sounds of the fighting never left Violcrik’s mind, her connection to the Force felt the deaths of the Jedi and it stung her. She was 10yrs old, 4yrs into her training as a Jedi and yet to choose whether she wanted to be a Guardian or a Sentinel. The Sacking ripped that away from her, Malgus ripped it away, as she was forced to flee through the underground sewer system of Coruscant where she went her separate way from the surviving Younglings. She spent a few months sleeping on the streets before a member of Black Sun found her and offered shelter in return she works for them. Violcrik worked with the gang for 4.5yrs, obviously, they were horrible, abusive and exploited her; especially when her Force sensitivity was found out.

They made Violcrik carry out weapons smuggling, spice runs, passing coded messages to other BS outposts and the odd assassination. She was involved in gang wars and even managed to kill some SIS agents. Long story short, her life was shit.

Her other two siblings aren't so bad, but Kateake still carried trauma of the abuse she suffered under her father. She moved on thanks to the likes of Torian, she found a new life and even started a family. Blizz ended up adopted, between Copero and Nathema FP, 24.5 ATC, she gave birth to Rekkr Cadera (my new swtor character, which I won't go into for now). Her new home is now Odessen.

10) Does your muse want their abuser(s) to face consequences? Or would they rather forget any of it happened?

Ans: Kateake surprisingly just wants to forget it all happened. She wiped her slate clean of being connected to House Baliss. The bounty hunter no longer needs that connection, she has a future with The Alliance, she has a future with Torian Cadera. As mentioned previously, she and Torian adopted Blizz and Kat gave birth to her son, Rekkr. She's already reunited with her half-sisters, both Violcrik and Alexest (smuggler). Why would she ever need to think about her past when she now has a future to forge? Her father became nothing but a blip, a fragment or a shard. Her past was as a Baliss now, she forges a future as a Cadera and with Torian. Kateake has never been happier.

Violcrik now is a different story. Unlike Kateake, she does not let the past go that easily. The Jedi Guardian believes in a "what goes around, comes around". Violcrik always hated her father, she hated him for a long time. She wished to find her father and confront him, even had thoughts of murdering him for how he treated herself and Kateake. A part of her so badly wanted to hunt down the man who abused her while she was on Alderaan. If she didn’t have the threat of the Death Mark and her attachment making her worry about Master Orgus, she would have asked Organa where House Baliss resided. Violcrik was willing to murder in the cold blood, first degree murder, manslaughter in order to make peace with her past and wipe off the memory of the pain her father caused. The Jedi Guardian is never one to simply forgive and forget, neither does she believe people are capable of redemption. Violcrik took the brunt of her father’s anger, the physical and verbal abuse to simply protect her sister and worsening her own trauma, so yes, she wants her father to face the consequences of his actions. She vows he will face them with either a lightsaber through his chest, find satisfaction in beating him up the same way he did to her on his worse days or a fast death via Force Choke.

~~~~~

I hope the answers suffice. Apologies for the delay, procrastination are its best again.

#star wars #swtor #swtor oc #jedi knight #bounty hunter #violcrik #kateake #rangerslayer 97 answers

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loriane-elmuerto · 3 years

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D, F, X, Q for Aminata 🔫🤪

girl eye--

oc abc

Aminata

1. how would they decorate a house if they had one under their name?

one thing I know for sure is that she would collect little memorabilia from her and Obi-Wan’s adventures (or if Zuru and Cody find something worthwhile), and she’d place it everywhere where she could. Also, she’d take elements from Arreyelan and Stewjon cultures and incorporate them into the interior of the house. And for some reason, I see a lot of light, baby blue in their home. The place itself would be pretty tidy, tastefully decorated. Lots of wood.

2. how would they decorate their child’s room?

i SOBBED ugly tears at this question. why couldn’t she become a mom and raise a troublemaker son with Kenobes

what I instantly thought of, was that it would be a collaboration between Mina and Obi-Wan. They would handpaint the walls with murals on the walls, similar to the ones from the Temple. The room would be full of pillows and stuffed toys, as those were extremely popular within the crèche in Coruscant. The ceiling lights would have had tiny planets hanging off of them, and the walls would have glowing in the dark stars!

3. how do they decorate their own room?

in the Temple? Despite the fact that a Jedi should not have unnecessary belongings, Mina made sure to make her room look like it belonged only to her. Her bed contained illegally acquired pillows, lots and lots of holo-pictures of her and her friends or Mace, books, borrowed from the Temple library on fighting techniques and history, memorabilia from Arreyel, and lastly, a canvas, where she would create the design of her future tattoos.

4. what type of clothes and accessories do they wear?

Mina took one look at Jedi fashion and said nah. While she follows the general blueprint, she actually has her distinct uniform that doesn’t restrict her mobility, especially in combat. While she’s not into wearing accessories, she’s very into clothing that shows off her Arreyelan tattoos. Sleevless tunic? Check! Black pants and knee-high leather boots? A must! During the majority of the war, she also wears some armour protection too. Mace tried to force her into wearing the traditional beige and sand colours of the Jedi, but she literally said no, and stuck to her black and mulberry combination (Zuru, Obi-Wan, and the 307th approved of the view)

5. do they like makeup/nail/beauty trends?

She keeps an ear on the ground to know and not embarrass herself during a ball when discussing latest trends, but she doesn’t blindly follow them. If there’s a need for advice in these matters, she consults Padmé or her handmaidens. Or the gossiping Knights in the Temple. Sometimes she discusses it with Ahsoka or Aayla (they’re fashion queens idc)

1. what do they do for fun?

Believe me when I say that she goes down to the lower levels of Coruscant, to some shady as shit bar, and just relax in some corner, listening to the trashy music and drinking the worst swill on this side of the galaxy.

2. what is their ideal party?

Where everyone is having fun. Mina prioritizes the well-being of others, so everyone has to be comfortable with the environment and with each other. Also, lots of people have to be attending, and it has to be loud. Think back to Shepard’s party options in the Citadel DLC, and remember the loud one? Yeah, that’s Mina’s style.

3. who would they have the most fun with?

Of all the people in her life, it has to be Anakin and Ahsoka. The three of them were never really fond of following the rules of the Jedi, so they wouldn’t hold back if you set all three of them together loose in some city. Anakin usually has the craziest ideas, Aminata knows how to execute them without getting caught, and Ahsoka is their escape plan master.

4. can they have fun while conforming to rules?

Usually, yeah, but not always. Mina doesn’t break the rules per se, but she tends to act how a Jedi... Shouldn’t act. Commander Fox doesn’t even read the reports about her anymore, and he surely doesn’t tell about them to Mace.

5. do they go out a lot?

When she becomes a Knight, not so much. But when she becomes a General? Honey, she barely spends time at the Temple when she’s in Coruscant. Either she’s out having a wild night with Shield, going on a secret date with Obi-Wan, causing trouble with Anakin or Ahsoka, or just having a girls night with Padmé, Aayla, Seline, or Depa. Either way, Aminata needs something to take her mind away from the war.

1. what is their favorite genre of music?

If we talk in terms of modern music, then Mina would def be a pop fan, and she’d also really love jazz. If we talk in terms of in-universe genres, I think Mina loves instrumental music the most. One time, Mace took her to a symphony concert and ever since then, she was smitten. In the Temple, she meditates while remembering the melodies, letting them carry her mind away.

2. do they have a favorite song?

I’m gonna really cheat here, but I’ll have to go with Ella Fitzgerald - Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered. Honestly, watching that clip of Princess Margaret and King George VI made me clearly see Mace and Mina sitting down in the Temple music halls and singing this song to each other, as a duo.

3. do they have a favorite band/artist/singer?

Zuru and the boys introduce her to this flashy, extremely popular pop singer whose songs (esp the lyrics) vibe with her really well. Imagine Dua Lipa in the galaxy far far away. No, she isn’t human. Yes, she’s really gorgeous. No, Mina doesn’t have a celeb crush.

4. can they sing well?

Only in the shower. Jk, she can sing slow, calm songs pretty well, but she isn’t on the same level as Mace and certainly not on Obi-Wan’s level.

5. can they rap?

Absolutely not! This girl will start tripping on her own words and it will be a disaster for everyone present.

1. do they ask for help?

Unless it’s some matter that she absolutely cannot solve on her own, then no, she doesn’t. She’s a Jedi Knight (later Master), people come to her with questions. Mace and Depa did a pretty good job in raising her to be independent.

2. do they ask questions in class?

Oh, she did. A lot. But only in history classes or during lightsaber practice. You know, when she was interested enough to ask.

3. do they answer questions that make them a little uncomfortable?

Honestly, it’s part of the job, and who she is as a Jedi. She’s long since learned that it’s better to answer those questions and be as transparent as you can than shy away from those question and show weakness, or, god forbid, incompetence.

4. do they ask weird questions?

I wouldn’t call them weird, but more like.... Questions that people don’t think of asking. Aminata always wants to work out every angle of a situation, and how it may play out, or, how things work and why do they work in this exact way, and not any other way.

Mace looked at Kanan and thought “NOT AGAIN NOT ANOTHER ONE”

5. are they curious?

Yep! Like I’ve mentioned in the above question, she needs to know everything.

#lemme pass out to sleep now #THAT UNFOLLOW BUTTON SUDDENLY LOOKS VERY APPEALING #nah jk i could never #please accept this wall of text as an apology for being so late <3 #i sobbed like 3 times answering this #thanks gabby!!!!#oc: aminata #ask meme #queennymeria

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retvenkos · 3 years

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ok i was torn between the ships and the song/character one but then I saw you post a ship and it was SO GOOD so I'd love to request a ship for Marvel and Star Wars! (and congrats on the milestone again!) I'd prefer to be shipped with a gal (or platonically with a guy). I'm a Gryffindor, INTJ, a stereotypical Leo, and my hobbies include hacking/cryptography, writing, learning languages, and playing the flute + piano. I'm super energetic until I crash HARD, sometimes funny (1/2)

(2/2) but with the wrong crowd, I definitely just come across as A Lot. I pretend to be an open book but like I never talk about the Real Shit? A flaw FS. Usually the fixer of the friend group, the ideas guy, and I love taking long walks around the city with my friends (no matter the weather!) and then going home and getting cozy in bed and watching a movie. Dislikes include when some talks to me when I have headphones in and people who don't know how to act on public transportation lmao. TY! :D

just so you know, you can ask for more than one thing! if you want to do the songs, send one in!

Marvel:

I ship you with Natasha Romanoff!

okay, but listen to me, here, because i have some thoughts™

first of all, you’re a hacker and that immediately gives me secret agent vibes - you and black widow met doing some work for shield back when it was a thing, and at first it didn’t look like the two of you would get along

i mean, you’re super energetic where she’s more low key, and you’re naturally curious where she doesn’t exactly give information.

but fate kept pushing the two of you together, for better or for worse. and the more you spend time with natasha, the more she opens up, and the more she notices how you never talk about anything too deep. and this.... intrigues her? she wants to know more.

and i do think the two of you would work well together - you are versatile enough to adapt to any situation, you have great ideas, you’re rational and well-informed, so you’d be a great field agent. the worst that could happen is that you talk to much, but natasha actually finds it endearing.

as the certified fixer™ of the group, you and natasha work together to bring your team together. natasha is better with people one of one, meanwhile you are great at solving group troubles, so together you create an environment that is so supportive.

i think that you and natasha would 10/10 have a slow burn relationship - you guys take things slow and that’s probably best since neither of you are very good with romance, being more rational and independent.

but when the two of you are together, i imagine you spend a lot of your downtime together.

you and natasha are actually probably big movie buffs - at first natasha just thought she would indulge you and watch a show, but she actually got really into it?

it’s good to just lose yourself in a life that isn’t your own and watch characters deal with their trauma in varying degrees of efficiency.

and natasha is incredibly intuitive, so i feel like she would love to sneak glances at you while you watch shows or when you are hacking because it’s one of the few times you are still and left to your thoughts.

and she is one of the few people that you talk about Real Shit with. she is able to get you to open up in a way that doesn’t feel like prying.

what’s also great about this ship is that one of you is high energy and the center of attention while the other is low key and in the shadows. SO, you are able to bring natasha out of her shell and she is able to get you to slow down.

and i forgot to mention! you’re artsy side! natasha loves it. she will watch you play the flute or piano and just,,,, adore it.

oh! and sparring with natasha is literally the best thing ever. we all want a girlfriend who could beat us up, and would do so upon request.

Star Wars:

I ship you with Padme Amidala!

this is another one that i need you to hear me out on, because i have a whole scenario in my head

padme is a senator and clearly you are doing some not-so-legal shenanigans, using your more refined skills (like flute playing, language learning, and schmoozing) to get near people with Money so you can embezzle them and take them for all they’re worth.

now padme, has some Money, and so you easily become friends with her by casually being at some party or another and showing off your amazing talents.

but padme is so kind! and once you get to know her you have some second thoughts,,,, do you have to steal from someone so pretty and sweet?

but you are determined and a little dismissive of your emotions - you can power through this.

but then padme does so many kind things for you - she takes you out on walks, she gets dinner with you, she has deep™ conversations with you, and while you are able to hide your more shady dealings, it’s getting increasingly difficult... and do you want to?

little do you know, padme has had an eye on you since the beginning because she has friends everywhere and knows about you and your little games. she waiting for you to make your move so she can catch you red handed, but she, too is having some difficulty with that.

especially when you genuinely seem so cool? and interesting? and let’s be real here, padme is a sweetheart but she has a taste for the troubled™ individual with deep seeded conflicts

and so you are both slowly falling in love with each other and it’s making your lives very difficult. but neither of you want to give up.

eventually, though, you and padme are talking one night, maybe after having watched the star wars equivalent of a movie or having just gone to see a play and you walked back to her place

either way, it’s deep into the night, and you are having hushed conversations despite being alone, and you start to open up about your past.

you’ve been hanging out for many months now, and you know you’ll be kicking yourself in the morning, but you’re telling her anyway. you manage to avoid talking about your latest hacking adventures, but you tell her about how you grew up in the lower levels of coruscant and living down there, how were you expected to be anything else?

and padme is very sweet, and she tells you that who you were then doesn’t need to be who you are now - look at all of the amazing things you can do! everyone comes from somewhere, but it’s where there going that matters.

and you decide to not embezzle her because you see something genuine in her eyes - something that really believes in you. and you’ve never been big on emotions, but you believe in padme.

and ANYWAY, when you two are finally together, just imagine all of the shenanigans you get up to. now that padme has you, she is 80% more likely to do undercover work that stresses out bail but makes you very happy.

honestly you two are a power couple and the world better watch out.

you could have taken down palpatine in like, two days if this were canon, you guys are just that iconic.

uhh,,, this got really long, but you and padme is such a concept.

take part in my 2.5k celebration

#2.5k celebration!#celebration #lxncelotships #i hope you like this! it wasn't exactly what i first had in mind but i just got the vibes #mutuals #emcon — 🦇

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

Protector - Director Orson Krennic x Reader 3 (Rogue One)

Gif Credit: X

I Think He Knows (Part 1) / Hero (Part 2)

Author’s Note: Just when you thought they were gonna get away with this...

Part 3 of this series that has come from the brilliant mind of @purebloodwitch ❤

I got you your angst and drama this time 😉😉

She also introduced me to this song Protector - City Wolf and quite honestly if it isn’t the theme, not just for this series, but for this couple then I don’t know what is! Give it a listen, it’s a truly excellent track! 👌🎉

* I spelled Scarif correct this time-!

Disclaimer: Rogue One characters not mine / lyrics not mine / gifs not mine / I’m sure I take liberties with the SW universe... but here we are!

Premise: In the aftermath of your actions on Scarif, you are reprimanded and grounded until further notice. The Empire need you, however - and are about to make you an offer they think you can’t refuse...

Words: 6762

Warnings: Swearing / angst/hurt

______ You don't have to be alone all by yourself Tired of doing things just to save your mental health You made a wish and then you lost it down the wishing well But when you're with me There's no need to be So tell me is there somewhere else that you wanna go? Cause you've been running round in circles, stuck in slow-mo I've got that feeling that you really wanna hit the door If you've lost the fight Then let's win the war When you're tired of hiding And you've gotta run, hop right in Sit shotgun, I'm driving I'll be your protector Who's gonna be there when Everything is tumbling down? Who's gonna be there when You fall to keep you off of the ground? I'll be your shelter They'll never get ya So stay with me and I'll be your protector No it ain't easy to survive up in these city streets Lookin' for someone to help you when you scrape your knees Takin' too many punches, now it's getting hard to breathe I'll be your reason so you can believe Are you waiting for someone? Just hold on, here I come To fix when you're undone You're standing on the edge now, stay close I'm going twelve rounds, ready for another dose Steel chin, and a fist made of metal Look at my face, serious as a heart attack Comin' in your corner, shades on, dressed in black I'll be your shelter They'll never get ya So stay with me and I'll be your protector ---

News of the aftermath of your involvement with the battle over Scarif reached the upper echelons of the Empire a little slower than you expected. That or they had to deliberate a long time on it. Funnily enough the rumours swelled first and a lot of the lower ranked officers now liked staring at you in awe. “Is she the one that decked Tarkin-!?” “She’s got balls-! Damn-!”

That joy didn’t last too long though. And you eventually got called into your commanding officers office and reprimanded. (Although apparently his personal opinion was good on you) However, his opinion didn’t count for much and they grounded you until further notice. When you politely enquired as to how long that would be, no one could tell you, or refused to entertain the question.

Tully was right though; they didn’t take your ship away or demote you. They’d need you in this war with the Rebellion and would probably spring something on you without a moments warning. Which meant although you were grounded, your ship was still out there in space - Jerod at the helm until you came back. You supposed you were lucky they didn’t give her to someone else - but wondered, with the way you’d built up your crew, how many would mutiny at the very idea of someone else as their captain.

Krennic now has some spare time on his hands and was trying to gather his reputation again. Now he found his project load a lot quieter, they had him running some mundane intelligence missions. Which meant you found him hanging around Coruscant a lot, drawing. Often when you were running back and forth between military briefings. Because grounded you may have been, but in the know you still were. Which was great, because he’d always be waiting in just the right place, and you could give him updates. Although the first couple of times he did it Krennic did manage to startle you, until you caught on: “Are you following me-!?” “Knowing where you are at all times is my job.” “The Bureau has you tailing me-!?” “No...” he tipped his head “I just figure you’re going to be the one who has the vital information on what I’ve been asked to do - therefore, who better to tail?” He had a point you supposed; but his stalking meant that sometimes you got to admire his architectural sketches and it was one of your favourite parts of the day. If you had time you liked to sit and ask what he was working on. Perhaps gather some intelligence of your own that you could take into your next meeting, and of course, give him a kiss on the cheek before you hurried off that Orson so thoroughly deserved.

***

Eventually you started receiving offers for work elsewhere. Though you weren’t looking to be anywhere but back on The Resolution right now. And then, one evening you got an offer that was far more interesting, pinged into your inbox. ‘Y/N, I am under the impression that you dislike being grounded. As I have been notified that you are consistently requesting a timeframe on the ending of this. There is a way around staying here, and it’s fairly simple. Grand Moff Tarkin will be on Coruscant in the coming days for final preparations in the efforts against the rebellion. Meet me tomorrow and we can discuss arranging a briefing with him. Further details to follow.’

Of course the first thing you did was alert your intelligence beau to the meeting time and place. For one, it seemed awfully shady - even if it was going to get you in the sky again - and you didn’t really want to turn up to a meeting like this without backup. When you walked cautiously into the government building, Krennic was already there - leaning so casually against an inlying colonnade he almost blended in. You paid each other no mind as you continued to walk through into the main hallway. It appeared deserted; save for the single person you knew you were here to meet. “General L/N.” You held you hand out to shake with a smile; “Baryon, I hear you can get me off the ground again.” “Indeed I can - if you’re ready?” You laughed, politely, “Far more than ready. If only you’d presented the solution earlier-!” He smiled, but it was thin, and lacked warmth. Immediately you were on high guard, you didn’t like where this could go; “Yes.” When he offered no more conversation, you prompted; “I believe your email message told me it was simple...?” “Very. If you would be inclined to apologise to Tarkin.” You very nearly scoffed, but decided you might be able to swallow your pride on that one to get your crew back. “Oh. Yeah, that doesn’t sound so hard. Forgive and forget and all that.” You hoped you didn’t sound as sarcastic as you seemed “Yes,” he nodded, “There is one other, small thing...” This was where it started becoming less easy, you decided. “Go ahead.” “The Death Star plans.” Ah, shit, here we go... “What of them?” You feigned ignorance. “Well it’s no secret that you and Director Krennic are close.” You didn’t exactly appreciate the way Baryon decided to say it either, causing your response to sound affronted. “Correct.” “Well. Then you must have access, or at least know a way to gain access to his files?” You folded your arms, “Mhm.” In fact, you knew all of Krennic’s passwords and where he stored all his backup drives too, but you weren’t about to tell this man that “You could say that.” “Then this should be easy for you.” He spread his hands as if it was all so obvious. “You haven’t told me what I’m supposed to do, yet.” “It’s simple. We need the plans, Krennic has them - you’re our in.” You blinked a couple of times, “Sorry... let me get this straight... you would like me to steal the Death Star plans, for you-!? After someone – the Rebellion, I might add! - just attempted the same thing on Scarif!?” “Steal? He’ll simply give them to you.” You’d have laughed the guy out of the building right then and there if you didn’t think this information intriguing. Krennic wouldn’t let you touch any of that unless it was over his dead body. Especially not now. “What if he says no?” “Someone with as much insight into the Director as you must have a way... Charm him.” Sleep with him to get the plans? Was that what they were really suggesting? You bit your lips together; Well. Looks like I’m still grounded. “What if I refuse?” “Then you won’t get back to your beloved Resolution.” You tipped your head, pretending for a moment that it was a hard choice. At least Jerod was in charge. But there was no way in hell that you could do that to Krennic. Not after all this. “I’m sorry. I can’t do what you’re asking of me.” Baryon’s face fell for a second before he tried again, “If you will not charm him - force him. You can give it up now, Krennic’s next to worthless...” He gave a shrug “and when you give us those plans, he’ll be even more so.” Your eyes narrowed; “Give what up?” “The front.” “What front?” “The relationship.” Suddenly the Empire’s angle on your relationship came into focus, and your relatively stoic nonchalance for the whole situation became a hard glare – and you put all your agitation into your words; “I ask again - What. Front.” “Ah, God. You’re not actually in love with him-!?” You measured him up for half a second, deciding he was serious; “Fuck you. This conversation is over.” “General-!” You wheeled around from the walk away you’d already begun, deciding to correct him first; “High General. You thinking I’d give the plans up was laughable, before what you just said. Don’t you ever contact me again.” Baryon sighed, and none too gently; “The next person that comes for them won’t be half as nice...” You scoffed, opting to return to your walk away before answering back; “Let them come. My answer will be the same-!!”

Your mind was reeling. Was that the only way back-!? Giving up everything your partner had worked so hard for to the other side? All that research!!? They had the weapon, and had stolen that from him too, what the hell did they want with the rest of it? To take everything about his greatest achievement away so he couldn’t use it? Well then they’d want all the backups too, wouldn’t they? They’d have to know he made copies. Someone would certainly know, who could casually drop it into conversation – and you wouldn’t put it passed anyone who wanted to climb the ladder by pushing someone else off it. They’d want him to destroy all his copies? Maybe they wondered what could be on them that the rebels would want? Maybe they just couldn’t work the damn thing without him and we’re too stubborn to admit it.

You slowed only when you approached the colonnades again, knowing he would still be there. And would have heard every word. Your eyes darted to both sides searching for him and eventually Krennic had to clear his throat to get your attention. You checked you weren’t being followed before you strolled over to him; “Can you believe this shit-!?” “Yes. To be honest.” Orson leant his head back to gaze at the ceiling “Thank God you said no!” “You know what they’re trying to do right!?” “Use us against one another...” He mused, “luckily I can trust you and know it won’t work. But this time it’s personal – and they are out for blood, clear as day.” “Well what have intelligence asked you for-!?” “Checking in on all your movements, they know what happened on Scarif, Y/N - they want to know your reasons.” “Are you telling me they think I’m working with the rebels-!?” “I didn’t say that.” Though the look on his face gave his true answer “FUCK-!” You thought twice about punching the stone; “What is this!?” “Easy. They want you back up there and me with nothing. But I already cleared you, so, that’s probably why he sent you the message in the first place. Doesn’t mean I won’t be keeping an eye on you.” “Orson...” You shook your head, “Babe, you know I would never...” “Of course I do. Don’t worry about it. But they’ll want me to relay this conversation. Byron might even report back that you were on the verge of agreement...” Krennic tipped his head, “One thing is clear they want us apart,” he pointed behind him, “this has all come from Tarkin, Make no mistake...” You breathed out gently, in agreement “Yeah. I know that. I do know that...”

*** The agent was right – he wasn’t the only one who tried to solicit you with promises of getting back into space if you only handed over the Death Star documents. Most of the time they got a snarky reply back like; Well if Tarkin hadn’t destroyed Scarif there would be plans there-! And by the fifth time, when they got a little more urgent and a lot less polite about it – you were getting sick of repeating yourself. “Do you actually have copies of all your work just lying around?” Krennic paused his stroll across the living room and turned back to you cautiously; “…Why?” “Well this would be simpler if there weren’t any.” He looked momentarily horrified – “You know damn well how long that research took me! Took US! Everyone that worked on this project – that’s ALL we have left. My copies.” You held your hands up defensively, hoping he didn’t think that it would cross your mind even once to deliver the Empire those copies. For one, you thought they ought to be coming to him for them. Why weren’t they, was a more interesting question. Maybe they just wanted to see how far they could push your relationship – they’d be sorry they ever did. “…I’m just thinking that if they were somewhere I didn’t know about, we’d be safer?” He inclined his head slightly, piercing blue eyes squinting at you; “We’d?” “…We’ve both been thinking it Orson, this is about FAR more than just the plans. And I’m-” Scared? Worried? Upset? Angry? All of the above? You swallowed and opted not to continue. Krennic strode back to you slowly, holding his hand out to take yours; “Darling, we’ll be fine… But if it would make you feel better, I can move all my research somewhere safer – that you won’t have access to. Therefore when they enquire, you really won’t know.” You used his outstretched hand to pull yourself up and into his arms; “Babe, I’m just-” you buried your face into his shoulder and mumbled it; “I don’t know what’s going on.” He kissed your hair softly, his own voice quiet and thoughtful; “I’ll look into it, okay? Someone in the Bureau must know what’s going on. Be careful, I don’t like it either. Not when it’s this persistent.” You pulled away from him – voice suddenly commanding; “Hide those plans, Director.” Orson smiled gently at the dead serious look on your face, “Yes M’am.”

So he did so – and you had no idea where. Before you knew it his digging around in intelligence had him exploring leads off planet, and upon your instruction to follow them, Krennic had to kiss you goodbye. “Just, keep me updated. Discreetly.” “Of course. You be careful down here. And if they do call you back, well, obviously I want to be the first to congratulate you…” He smirked over the word congratulate and you shook your head, “Well you better be ready to get your new ship over to mine then.” “Ah-! You heard!” He grinned. Of course you knew – people within engineering had already complained loudly enough before, when he’d had the first ship built. After it’d been ruined on Scarif, Krennic needed a new one – but he wanted an upgraded version, faster, lighter, sleeker. And you had heard the screaming from your office: “HE WANTS WHAT-!? I’M NOT BUILDING THAT OBSOLETE MODEL FOR A SECOND TIME!!!” And had simply chuckled into your coffee. It had been built though, but you hadn’t seen it yet. “It’s faster than the old one, I’d be with you in no time.” “Good…” You couldn’t help but smirk back, and brush your lips to his one more time; “Then you can get that ass of yours in my bed.”

*** It was hard being away from him, considering you’d both had to be here for so long and by now you’d grown used to his company. But it got interesting when the Resolution got pulled into docking. With Krennic updating you as often as he could, you were happy to tell him that you got to see your ship again. Jerod was there to receive you, looking pretty good in his command uniform, as you sprinted down the dock ramps to him. “What did you do to my ship-!?” “Nothing, General, she’s fine!!” “Fine, my ass--!” You reigned yourself into a walk, and then slowed to a halt in front of him, cheerful smile on your face “What are you doing in dock?” “To be honest we don’t know.” He gave a genuine shrug; “We thought you might be able to fill us in.” You folded your arms, “I’ve heard nothing. Been bribed plenty. I hope they don’t think that because Orson’s off planet I’ll cave. But seeing her…” You traced your eyes over the hull of the Resolution with a smile, she was gorgeous, and you missed being her captain terribly. But you refused to give up the work of the man you loved so much to be aboard her again. Your heart could yearn this as much as it wanted – it would have a harder time betraying him, and yearning for a love it had lost for itself. You shook your head as several unfathomable emotions coursed through you, and you pursed your lips. You weren’t sure the right way to finish that sentence either. “Maybe they’re going to give her back to you.” “Ha.” You scoffed, and highly doubted it. But then maybe Tully was right – maybe they really couldn’t do this without you. Maybe they had finally given up. “Perhaps. I guess I’ll wait that one out.” You turned your eyes on him, and then decided to grin; “…In the meantime, thank you for looking after her Jerod.” “Oh!” His smile was bashful and he bowed to your rank, “You’re very welcome. It’s been a pleasure.” *** You read the title of the email twice. Wine glass half way to your lips – although you’d quite forgotten about it. Everything was suddenly frozen in time. And the chimes coming from your datapad to alert you to other incoming messages and documents couldn’t draw your attention from those words. “For the Urgent Attention of High General F/N L/N.” it appeared to have no sender, and it wasn’t even the urgent that grabbed you, you’d seen people pull shit like that all the time in the clamour to catch the attention of a busy General such as yourself. It was the next part that had you; “Presence Requested on Mustafar.” No one ever got called there, not for anything good. And the one time Krennic went it hadn’t exactly been his finest hour. But you?! What exactly had you done that warranted an audience with Vader? You swallowed hard. Now you were really in trouble. And you knew even dating someone in intelligence couldn’t save you.

You threw the email to Orson just in case – asking him what the hell he thought was up. Krennic came back barely a second later imploring you to go, but that he had no idea. And neither did he respond with any further information than that, suggesting that he’d come to a dead end. Or there was something more worthy of his time, considering what he was actually off planet for. You made a stop off to the Intelligence Bureau one last time, because there was only one other man you trusted in that entire organisation. But he already knew you were coming. ‘Y/N I can’t help you’ ‘So you know?!’ ‘It’s out of my hands’ ‘You DO know!’ ‘Perhaps, but on my head be it should I disclose it to anyone. Go, for the sake of everything you have ever worked for, and tell the truth. They’ll understand. And between you and I, Tarkin deserved to be put in his place after Scarif – I lost a few good friends out there. Make sure you go to that meeting and do it again…’ *** So that’s how you ended up on your shuttle out across the Galaxy towards Mustafar now. Due to the grounding of the Resolution, Jerod was the one in the pilot seat. And although you spend the majority of your journey sitting chewing your lip and running your big speech over in your mind, you were glad of friendly company. He only offered small talk on a few occasions, when he thought you might want a pause from overthinking. You were happy to provide it and it was a welcome respite – but you couldn’t stop yourself pondering this. As long as it wasn’t for your alleged scheming with the rebels – or whatever rumour was going around, you thought you’d probably be fine. If it was, you might find yourself reprimanded even further for screaming about how ludicrous it was.

All of that was thrown out the window about 3 minutes before you landed, because as Jerod slowed your jets for the landing strip – a second cruiser was visible in the heat haze – slick black-on-black against the red and amber glowing fire of sluggish molten rock. “Is that Krennic’s?” You wished he hadn’t voiced it. “Yeah.” Your reply was quiet; it looked brand new, polished to within an inch of its life and just out of the factory. A close resemblance to the last one, but sleeker and sharper. You pitied it having to stand here in heat like this so soon. “Did he tell you he was coming?” “No.” Which hurt more than just a little, if he was called here why wouldn’t he tell you? You had told him; but perhaps Orson didn’t want to add to your anxiety. Or perhaps he’d come to your aid – to back up your story. You wondered if that would at all be welcomed. “Shut the engines off, but stay here. And stay cool – this shouldn’t take too long.” “Yes M’am.” You patted his shoulder as you rose from your seat, taking a deep breath before swallowing hard. Jerod caught your wrist; “Y/N.” You turned back to him, “Be careful.” “I will. You too.” Though you weren’t exactly sure why you were saying that. But, you reminded yourself, you weren’t to trust anyone in the Empire these days. You hurried down the ramp from your ship and were too inquisitive in the new look of his not to wander over and inspect. It was beautiful and classic, if obsolete. You stared up at the wings, the way the red reflected off them; harsh the light might have been, but the engineering was stunning. You slowed your pace, still staring at it – it was larger, but you reckoned that was because it had bigger engines and more power. But it was cut more economically, and though you thought you’d be asking for a death wish suggesting the old model was anything less than perfect, this one looked a lot less clunky. And you would bet it didn’t make that annoying whirring noise as it cut through the air.

You turned back to the walkway leading up into the fortress and took another deep breath. It wasn’t a long way to walk, but you bet already it’d be the longest of your life. You could already see a figure waiting for you at the top ready to lead you to god knows where. You knew it wasn’t Krennic, he’d already be sprinting back down towards you if that was the case. You straightened yourself and began your march – time to be as professional and presentable as possible. Except you had to loosen your collar just slightly, damn this place for being so stiflingly hot it was nearly insufferable. How the hell Orson dare come back in the uniform he insisted on wearing was beyond you; how did he stand it? Mind you, Krennic would suffer for the aesthetic. When you reached the figure, an older man huddled in a black cloak – he stooped slightly in what you presumed was a bow - “High General F/N L/N. We have been expecting you. Please, follow me.” We!? Oh, you didn’t like this one bit. You didn’t think it would help in this situation, and you weren’t the quickest draw, but you still checked your blaster was on your hip – it made you feel just a little safe. Against Lord Vader, Y/N? You’ll be dead before you can even reach for it! You scowled at yourself; Not Helpful! You followed him down a series of passages, and realised you must be getting closer to the core of the planet… or volcano… where else could you possibly be led? Strangely enough, it wasn’t as warm here – and you wondered what exactly caused the temperature to drop. If it was a cooling instillation you were going to need that number just to give props to them. Eventually your guide stopped, and pulled to one side, holding his arm out to present yet another ramp. He stooped again; “Lord Vader awaits your presence.” Even though “Thank you.” came out of your mouth, what you were really thinking was Oh. Shit.

*** You’d only taken two steps down but already had forgotten most of the things that you’d set out to say. Indeed, he was waiting at the other end of a circular platform – already you were beginning to feel uneasy. You weren’t even the tiniest bit force sensitive, but you didn’t think there was anyone in the Galaxy that couldn’t feel that aura. He was alone on the platform save for an odd looking bundle to one side, that you noticed but deemed irrelevant enough to ignore. You hoped more than anything that your fight or flight response would allow you to stand your ground, and argue your case, rather than back down and shy away from any conflict. You wanted your ship back – but you would not give Krennic or his work up to be there. And you’d given him your word. You kept your eyes on Vader, aware of the beads of sweat gathering on your forehead, and trickling down the side of your face. And you weren’t even sure that was the apparent heat. Annoyingly all that was filling your head was a million ways to die. You glanced down at the lava running below you and swallowed thickly again. God Damn… You raised your eyes again - You can do this. If Krennic can get out of here, then you can. You were about five steps away from the platform now – and were figuring out that etiquette was probably to let him speak first. Only the bundle you were so intent on ignoring moved at precisely the wrong second. You stumbled your last two steps – eyes wide, horrified, if you hadn’t simultaneously lost the ability to breathe, let alone speak, then you probably would have yelled something. There was only one reason that he’d been left on the platform. That wasn’t just a warning but a display. Krennic wasn’t dead, and – man that he was – probably didn’t even wish it. But that pristine white uniform was nearly dyed red. The only cuts you could see were the ones visibly across his face and anything that had cut through his uniform – he couldn’t even stay on his hands and knees properly, and his arms shook with the effort. You were frozen – not because you didn’t want to sprint across the platform to him, but in that doing so would prove the point. You stood up straight, fighting every urge in you to scream, or run, or cry. To get you both through this – you could do none of those things. His head raised slowly, and he turned those blue eyes on you, now desperate. Orson’s lips parted – but whether to say he was sorry, or to beg for you to leave you’d never quite know. You gave a single shake of your head, but barely moved. Save it. Stay alive. Before you turned your eyes back to Vader. “General L/N.” “Lord Vader.” Your voice at least sounded self-assured, which you thought was better than you could possibly have expected – near enough a miracle. You used that confidence to spur yourself forward, and took a step, straightening your back further – folding your arms behind you to keep it that way. “It’s been a while.” You tried not to flick your eyes to Krennic, who was still staring at you. You weren’t sure how best to tell him to quit it – so all you could do was try and tune him out. But that was hard, because he was hurting, and the only thing you wanted to do when he was hurting was hold and protect him. That’s what you did. You’d been doing that for years – even back when he didn’t realise it. And he did the same for you, but right now you were both balancing on a knife edge and you were one tiny wrong move from toppling you both off of it. “It has,” you gave a nod “due to project intersections – my team and facility have been busy on great things for the Empire – and then of course when I was then given the opportunity to make a difference in the war with The Resolution I’ve been on the forefront of many a battle. Now that I find myself grounded…” You gave a shrug, “I am participating in many a strategic meeting.” “A lot all at once.” It was his turn to take a step, “Your rise through the ranks has not gone unnoticed. Neither has your commandeering of The Resolution and your instrumental handling of many strategic battles in this war we wouldn’t have won without you.” Despite the desire to swell with pride at these remarks coming from Darth Vader himself, you took all of that with a pinch of salt, because there was a punchline somewhere. And you didn’t think it was going to be humorous; “…But also your disregard for Officers at higher rank. Consistently.” You would have disagreed with that. You ‘d only punched Tarkin in the face the once. “Officer Tarkin’s handling of the situation on Scarif was unprofessional in itself. We lost many lives, so much more data. A good outpost; before we think of the Star Destroyers and lives lost in the battle itself.” Okay, maybe it was the only physical punch you’d ever given anyone you disagreed with. “Perhaps building something not so problematic would lead the issue not to lie with the Governor?” If he was asking you to place the blame on Krennic, you would deflect. “Tarkin gave the order and I didn’t witness him attempt to evacuate. If you would ask me to change my log, my apologies, but I will not.” You were surprised you could just say that out loud. And thought maybe later you’d give yourself a slap on the wrist. Ballsy! “You were summoned here to explain yourself. And that you have at least done. But if you think that’s an excuse.” You blinked a few times and then allowed your eyes to return to Krennic, and whatever had just clicked in your head was also obviously on his face. Vader and Tarkin were in league here. This was more than likely a trap. And you and your lover had both just walked into it. That put you on the offensive; “I firmly believe that Scarif should not have been lost to stop Rebels in the way it all happened. The Death Star plans are worth saving – but the cost is too great in numbers for my liking and all I wanted Tarkin was to be aware of exactly what he had cost the Empire.” Then you took a breath, and added “Sir.” “Another great loss, Y/N, is yours in our ranks. And we can give you that back.” You noticed that his walk track changed, and each step was now towards Krennic, whose blue eyes flickered to obvious fear noticing this. But at least they were off you. Orson could barely move, but he still attempted to move away. “All you need to do is hand over the plans that you already have.” You answered without a moment’s hesitation or second thought; “I don’t have them.” “Come now, Y/N.” You froze for a second time, as this voice came from behind you. “We all know that isn’t true.” Tarkin was practically right behind you before you heard his footfall. “All you need to do is hand them over, and all this will go away.” You turned your head towards him, “I don’t know where they are. And I will not hand Director Krennic’s life’s work over to you. That is his to give.” Especially not Tarkin. It was hard to keep the spite out of your voice. Tarkin raised an eyebrow with a deep sigh and he crossed the platform towards Vader, hands crossed behind his back; “I rather think the Director incapable of doing anything right now…” and you didn’t miss the smug smirk across his face; “You BASTARD! You did this!” You took another few steps, quite prepared to shove him into liquid fire. But the next step Vader took was firm and too close, and you had to stop. Allowing Tarkin to turn to you; “Oh no. You did this. Y/N.” You glared at him, voice bitter; “I suppose you want an apology too?” “Wouldn’t say no.” You scoffed, and couldn’t help yourself. No. Way. “But I know I can forget it.” He nodded to Krennic, “Can he?” “The choice is yours, General.” Vader and Tarkin stood together, and there was not a person in the Galaxy that could stand with you against them, the one man that would was bleeding on the floor and they had caused it. “Hand the files over, or your Director dies.”

You blinked hard for a moment, and thought you might just have misheard. But here in this situation, there was absolutely no way you could have. They were about to bargain with you for Krennic’s life! How the hell were you supposed to negotiate your way through this?! You had to get both of you out of here alive. You wouldn’t leave without him, and they were counting on that. “I don’t have it.” You gritted your teeth – he’d hidden it and you’d asked him to, so what the hell did they expect you to do with that-!? “You honestly expect us to believe that?” Tarkin chuckled, and you were about ready to kill him, “This is his life we’re talking about now. Surely you care about that.” You took another deep, slow breath and looked to him again. Krennic gave you the same small head shake that you’d given him - and you could have killed him too. There was no way you were letting him die. But you knew exactly what he meant. The problem was, if you still refused, and they killed him… And then killed you, what would that accomplish? You couldn’t live without him and they knew that just as much as you did. They’d likely leave you alive and broken just to spite you. There was silence for a moment, and it was just a second too long for Tarkin’s liking; “Have it your way.” Krennic went from looking at you to the floor almost immediately – reaching for his neck. For a moment everything felt very surreal, you’d heard about this and you’d heard about it from Orson himself – but actually watching him choke for breaths he couldn’t take was more sickening than anything you could have possibly seen in a warzone. And they could tell it was affecting you, by the visible pain on your face – tears were already stinging your eyes. “Stop it! You can’t just-” “Can’t we?” You looked between them again, Krennic’s forehead was to the floor now and he had seconds if that. “He didn’t DO anything!” You were desperate and this time you sounded it. “Director Krennic has done a great many things, General, he’s lucky he hasn’t met an untimely demise before this.” You tore your eyes from him again, this was unbearable – and you couldn’t stand by and watch him die. Not for anything. Not even if he never forgave you. “STOP IT!” This time you screamed it; “I’ll give you what you want just let him GO!” You knew they’d need more than just your word, and though you probably couldn’t have hated yourself any more – you pulled the disk from inside your uniform jacket. Vader released the Force Choke and even just hearing Krennic take a ragged breath and spluttering cough had relief flooding you. Tarkin stared at the disk suspiciously; “What is that? The data packs on Scarif were huge. It took an entire tower to transmit things like those plans, you can’t honestly think we’d belie-” “They’re access codes. All of them, to every file he has on the project.” They turned to each other in silent conversation before Tarkin seemed satisfied, and crossed to prise the disk from your hands. “Well. At least we know you can make one good decision Ms. L/N.” You narrowed your eyes at him not calling you by rank, but you were still aware your lover was taking breaths that sounded painful, sprawled out on the floor. “I’ll see you reinstated to The Resolution. Even without an apology. I have been thoroughly entertained.” He stepped back to Vader, satisfied. “Well, I believe we’ve got what we wanted, Lord Vader.” He turned back, with that same smug smirk. “And now we can impart the rest of the information.”

You flinched, surely they had both done enough. What else could they possibly do. “Director.” Krennic raised his head from the floor, breathing still shaking his body. He wasn’t yet ready to speak. And you didn’t think you’d ever seen Tarkin look crueller. “Orson Callan Krennic, you are hereby stripped of rank-” You couldn’t help but gape, what the FUCK!? “-and office. You will no longer work for the Advanced Weapons Division, or the Intelligence Bureau. Or hold a position within the Empire ever again. You will be blacklisted throughout the Galaxy… Good Luck finding a job, Krennic.” You could only stare in disbelief, hurting him wasn’t enough, now they had to break and humiliate him? And Orson had never been very good at hiding his emotions. But Tarkin and Vader had just turned him from Director to Civilian. And you had absolutely no leverage to waltz into someone’s office and demand it be reinstated. ‘Make yourself indispensable,’ you had said ‘and you’ll be safe.’ all it sounded like was the biggest lie. Tarkin turned back to you, smile almost cheerful, and he waved the disk. “Congratulations, General. You’ve done this yourself.” He swivelled his head back to Krennic, with a tut, “It’s not like he was much use to the Empire anyway…”

You couldn’t talk either, for different reasons. They were about to walk away with Krennic’s life’s work. And leave you with a broken man whose work you had just handed over. There wasn’t any way you were coming out of this intact. You had promised him you’d never give it up – you had broken that promise for his life. And yet Tarkin had taken it from him anyway. “Welcome back, General - you made the right choice. I look forward to seeing you in the air again.” If you thought you could even reach for your blaster right now with your emotions racing the way there were and your hands shaking, you’d have sent a bolt through his heart. By the tone in his voice he wasn’t even really addressing you, but Krennic; yes, Orson she did choose her own ambition over you. Whereas the reality couldn’t have been more different; his life over his work. And nagging in the back of your mind somewhere - and perhaps your only consolation prize, was that they still didn’t know about the fault. “I suppose you want to move now?” Tarkin addressed you again as he turned away; “With your ship reinstated I see no reason to make you stand around here and wait for any more. He’ll probably need medical attention, General. You may wish to see to that.” With that they both left. And you sprinted.

“Orson! Orson! Oh my god-!” The bleeding was a lot worse than it looked, by the way that he was huddled. But he pushed you away, devastated; “You gave it up-! You PROMISED ME!!” “It was your LIFE! Your LIFE! I couldn’t LOSE YOU! I can’t LOSE YOU!” “MY LIFE-!? THEY JUST DESTROYED MY LIFE--!” He choked again, finding the strength to push you once more “I have nothing. Leave me.” “I am NOT leaving you! Don’t you dare say that… I…” You were already both crying. “Orson, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry-! If I’d have thought for one second that they’d…” Your eyes traced his body; hurt and bleeding - all you wanted to do was protect him from everything, and you were regretful most of all for not being able to protect him before now, if you’d have got here earlier, could you have spared him this? And then you were sobbing and this time he let you pull his fragile body into yours – which only made him sob into your uniform, hands tangling in your jacket he buried his head in your chest in an attempt to hide himself from the world – and your arms could do nothing more than hold him. You weren’t even sure you’d done your job at protecting him now – you’d failed at the only job that really mattered; “Baby, I’m so sorry…” --- @menndelsohn @3134045126 @happyskywhale @wltz-bby #MendoTagSquad

#Orson Krennic #Director Orson Krennic #I Think He Knows Pt 3 #Director Krennic #Orson krennic x reader #Director Krennic x Reader #Linzi Writes #Smol Bean Drabbles #Krennic x reader #Lets see if this does a little better than part 2 did-!#one to go-!#Inconsistency with rank naming that makes sense if you look back at the previous part-!#It was gonna be longer but I'm going to keep that until part 4 because I thought it was better to leave them at their very lowest here...#...and build back in the final part.#126 #Ben Mendelsohn

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