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#this is the first and last time i drew a tauntaun
cinlat · 2 years
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Secret Santa
Phew, I was hoping that I’d get this done by Christmas your time. I joined the swtor secret santa event this year, and I know technically these aren’t due yet but I just really really wanted to give it to you on Christmas. So, surprise @dingoat! I drew you as my person, which is such an amazing stroke of luck given the chaos of my life these last two weeks. I really hope you enjoy it. Merry Christmas!
Hoth Dorn Base Overflow Market
Ahuska pawed through the tray trimmed in garland and lights for something that he wouldn’t hate. Like would be better, and a small part of her hoped to achieve never leaves his side, but Ahuska wouldn’t get her hopes up. 
Closing her eyes, Ahuska inhaled the scents of memories almost forgotten. She loved this time of year on Hoth. Not just for the colorful stalls and cheerful merchants, but for the smells. While the Life Day trees were holographic, they came with a scent chip that was so close to a deciduous forest that a pang for home tightened her stomach. 
Ahuska let the season’s unique flavors color her mind. She could almost see the gentle snow-capped trees and hear the far-off chirping of white birds who didn't flee the cold. When Ashuska opened her eyes, the chirping persisted. A single glance at her wrist chrono tugged the beginnings of her smile into a frown. 
With a sigh, Ahuska tapped the acknowledge sign that connected her earpiece to the kennel, while she returned to her gift seeking. Ahuska only had a few to give out this year, and one that she wasn’t sure that she wanted to give at all, but it felt like the right thing to do. It was an opportunity to help out someone in need, regardless of the woman's knack for trouble-making. 
“It’s out on the shipyard, but signal’s weak.” Ahuska let the voices ramble to one another in the back of her mind while she selected a bauble and signaled for the market keeper. 
“If those coordinates are accurate, that’s Republic territory.” 
Ahuska's mind steadily became more aware of the conversation. Their tones were wrong, too tight and thin. “Roger, our orders are to direct the client onto friendly turf. Otherwise, we stand down.”
“Damn, that’s an expensive loss. He’s one of our most experienced tauntauns. How’d he get way out there?”
Ahuska stopped, ears twitching at the mention of one of her animals. An officer muttered an insult as he pushed past her, but Ahuska barely noticed.
“We’ll keep an eye on the situation and—”
Unable to hold her tongue any longer, Ahuska activated her comm speaker. “Wait, I missed the first part of this, what happened?”
“Aren’t you off today?” Replied the man who managed the people who worked the stables, though he rarely set foot in them himself. When Ahuska didn’t reply, he sighed. “One of our clients took Boots out. We just received an SOS that he was injured, and they need an extraction.”
Ahuska began to move before he’d finished speaking. Though the manager might not have known animals, he was good at herding his people. “Don’t do anything foolish, girl. The signal is in Republic territory. We are not allowed in that zone. We’ll have to trust that Boots will find his way home.”
Boots, named for the three stained toes from an infection when he was a taunling, was nearing retirement. Ahuska had always thought they should have called him Socks, but that name had been taken at the time. It was better than the row of numbers on his chart, at least. He was still healthy enough to weather the tundra, perfect for amateurs, but with experience came the risk of injury as his body grew weaker.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Ahuska closed the channel before the manager could object. She wondered if he would meet her at the stable and forbid her from going, but then, he never had before. 
As she turned, Ahuska hesitated at a meaningfully cleared throat. She still held the baubles in her arms and offered a sheepish smile before transferring the appropriate amount of credits to the merchant. The woman bid Ahuska a good day, but she was already dodging at a fast walk through the crowd while shoving gifts into her bag. When she reached the maintenance halls, Ahuska broke into a run.
Hoth The Starship Graveyard Fifty Klicks Outside of Outpost Zarek
Fynta surveyed her chosen ambush site with a smile. She hated Hoth. It was cold and bright, and cold, and barren, and fierfeking cold. But, she had a mission to complete, and why not have some fun in the process? 
A grunt drew Fynta’s attention to the shard of a broken ship where she’d left Boots. He glared and tugged on the lead that she’d wrapped around the spike, affronted at being tied up. Fynta had portered Boots before, and she wasn’t his favorite client. The beast snorted in contempt every time she approached, so naturally, she requested him at every opportunity.  Ahuska hated it.
Fynta couldn’t say why she provoked the Bothan. Sure, there was the jealousy, but also that Ahuska made it so easy. In turn, Fynta could only guess at what part of her rubbed the woman so wrong that she’d risk exposure simply to get rid of her. Theirs was a tenuous relationship that Fynta had no way to define, which honestly made it more meaningful than ninety percent of her other interactions. She and Ahuska had history and a shared secret, unwilling allies since the beginning.
Light bloomed in the back of Fynta’s mind, sweeping through like a beacon. Fynta wrapped herself in the Force, pulling it tight around herself a second before Ahuska could reach her. She felt claustrophobic in the protective cocoon, but reminded herself that it was an illusion of her mind. Nothing more than a benchmark so that Fynta knew that she was protected. If even a hint of her presence leaked through, the entire plan would collapse. 
Boots snorted in surprise when Fynta faded from the visible plane, and she crept deeper into the snowdrift that had piled against the ship piece. It was a miserable hiding spot, but Fynta hoped the outcome was worth the temporary inconvenience.
Five minutes later, Fynta heard the heavy thump of large feet on the ground. It approached slower than expected, and Fynta realized why when the shaggy fur of an icetromper lumbered into view. Ahuska had brought a lark pack animal to aid in the retrieval of her wounded mount. Fynta should have expected that.
Bringing the creature to a halt, Ahuska slid off its back and hurried to Boots. She wore the standard orange snowsuit of the working class, warm and easy to see against the white surface.  
“What happened to you?” Ahuska's hands worked over the tauntaun with practiced ease while he warbled happily at her. When she couldn’t find a source of injury, the Bothan tugged down her face scarf and scowled at her surroundings. “Where is the fething idiot who took you?”
Fynta chose that moment to strike. With a flick of her wrist, the small, white projectile thumped against the back of Ahuska’s head. The Bothan went rigid, and Fynta chewed the inside of her cheek to silence her laughter. 
Slowly, Ahuska lifted her gloved hand to the back of her head, then blinked at the bits of white fluff clinging to the material. She turned, scanning the area with keen eyes that Fynta had been training to evade. Annoyance flashed in the pale blue irises as they slid over her, then past. Fynta dared to fire another volley of snow at her soon-to-be enemy, then scurried to a new position.
By the sputtering, Fynta guessed that at least one of her snowballs had struck its target. “What the hell?” Ahuska called, and Fynta envisioned the Bothan flapping her arms like an overgrown bird. She pressed her lips tighter and squatted behind the snowdrift. 
“You do realize it’s forty below out here, right?” By the casual tone, Fynta wondered if Ahuska knew who her attacker was, or if she was simply irritated enough not to care that she was yelling at a Sith. 
Huffing, Ahuska turned away. “I’m taking Boots back to the shelter. Either drop this silliness and come along or stay out here and freeze.”
Fynta had positioned herself behind the tauntaun, waiting until Ahuska reached for the reins. She had one more snowball in hand left in her arsenal. When the Bothan was close enough, Fynta dropped her stealth and grinned. “Heya fluffy.” 
Fynta’s arm made the movement, and she felt the frigid sphere leave her hand, but she had no memory of landing on her ass ten feet behind where she’d been standing. Ahuska crossed her arms. “I thought it might be you. No one else would go through the effort to make the security footage look so ridiculous. Darth Mar, renting a tauntaun; really?”
Chuckling, Fynta lifted onto one elbow. “Imagine the prestige of telling everyone back at the shelter that you got into a snowball fight with the head honcho of the Dark Council.”
“What are you doing out here, Fynta?” Ahuska asked, ignoring Fynta's attempt at a joke. “And why do you keep picking on Boots. He’s a good boy who deserves better than your antics.”
Fynta imagined that she could feel the dampness from the snow soaking into her clothes, but knew that it was too cold for that. “Admit it, I keep your lives interesting.” Ahuska and Boots snorted in unison and turned away. 
With a grin, Fynta pushed to her feet. “Oh, come on Ahuska.” The Bothan turned to growl something that never finished. Fynta’s final projectile splattered across Ahuska’s snout as she was pulling the scarf back into place. The muffled screech filled Fynta with pride until she sensed the unbridled rage rolling off the woman.
Over the years, Fynta had wondered how deeply Ahuska’s power went. The Bothan spent most of her effort hiding amongst Force nulls and avoiding proper Sith. Fynta didn’t know why Ahuska stayed on Hoth, but she had her suspicions. Suspicions that remained unspoken for the time being. She’d always wanted to see what Ahuska was truly capable of, apart from being a grudging sparring partner and wildlife whisperer. 
Ahuska took a step towards Fynta, her hands out by her sides and fingers splayed. Fynta’s brow twitched with interest. Fury brightened the Bothan’s pale eyes. It took a second too long to note the flurries coalescing in front of Ahuska, growing with each passing heartbeat. 
Fynta took a step back when it reached the size of her head. “It was just a joke, you know.” Another step away from the still massing snowball. It was half Fynta’s size now and packed so tight that it gleamed in the snow. “Next time I’ll write a note, or just not contact you at all, deal?”
Still, Ahuska didn’t respond and the snowball became all Fynta could see. She had no way of knowing when it would be enough, and with Ahuska hidden behind it, no way to tell when it would be loosed or how fast. “I’ll find my own way ba—”
It happened almost too fast for Fynta to react. What had been an intimidating orb of packed snowflakes, suddenly advanced into a weapon of untold destructive powers. Fynta wove a hasty shield, cursing herself for not thinking of it sooner. She’d barely pressed the final thread into place when it felt like the ground shifted beneath her. 
Dazed, Fynta blinked into the muted, grey sky and wondered why the clouds looked so hazy. Then, one of them dripped into her eye, and Fynta realized that it wasn’t the sky above her, but snow. Groaning, she sat up and checked for broken…anything. Ahuska glared at Fynta from double the distance away, hands on hips.
“That was impressive,” Fynta admitted, shoving herself out of the snow pile. Some trickled inside her shoe, and she shivered. “Point made.”
The low rumble of warm breath made Fynta look over her shoulder. She yelped when a young wampa roughly her height cocked his head. While scurrying towards the safety of someone who knew how to handle these creatures, Fynta noted a gathered crowd of wild tauntuan, icetrompers, and a few older wampa who didn’t wander as close as the youngster. 
Fynta positioned herself at Ahuska’s back, searching for an escape route. “Are these your doing?”
“Possibly,” Ahuska admitted through gritted teeth. "You have that effect on people."
“Maybe we should leave.” Fynta inched towards Boots, but a wild tauntuan matriarch bared flat teeth at her. Fynta held her hands up. “On second thought, I’ll let you get him.”
Huffing, Ahuska turned towards the icetromper that she’d brought. “Just get on. I’m too annoyed to calm them down.” She paused and looked back. “Though, letting them trample you would be no less than you deserve.”
Fynta hurried after Ahuska and scrambled into the saddle before the Bothan could change her mind about the rescue. Ahuska took the seat behind the icetromper’s head and tucked the reins into their holders. When she clicked her tongue, Boots trotted into place at their side. The animals parted, a few trotting alongside for a while before fading back into the wilderness.
They’d been on their way for nearly half an hour before Ahuska looked over her shoulder. “You did all of this for a silly prank?”
“Yes,” Fynta answered, then remembered that there had been more to it. “Wait, no. Here.” She tucked a small, foil-covered box into Ahuska’s free hand.
Balancing herself to match the roll of the icetromper’s massive steps, Ahuska sniffed at the box warily. Fynta laughed. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a taste of home."
Ahuska tugged open one end of the paper and stared at the small, uj cake inside. Fynta shrugged, avoiding the expression on the Bothan’s face. She didn’t want to see gratitude or sadness, or whatever other emotion might wait there. They were both a long way from home, trapped in lives that they hadn’t chosen. It only seemed right to have one, small comfort on Life Day. “Just pop it in a heater and it should taste good as new.”
Clearing her throat, Ahuska rummaged in one of the saddlebags by her thigh. “Here.” Fynta grunted when the box struck her stomach. A joke sat on the tip of her tongue, something about liking her after all, or not being able to resist her charm, but they dried up when Fynta saw the two, curved handles inside. 
As if sensing that she had removed Fynta's ability to speak, Ahuska continued. She didn't look at Fynta either. “You’re shit with a lightsaber. Maybe you’ll be passible with those.”
Fynta lifted one of the chakram hilts from the box. She wasn't sure how to thank the grumpy Bothan, so she settled on her next question. “Do I want to know where you got these?”
“The dumpster,” Ahuska deadpanned, and Fynta chuckled. She tucked the handle back into the box and wedged it between her and the saddle horn. The silence stretched between them until Ahuska looked over her shoulder. “Happy Life Day, you irresponsible strain on society.”
Fynta grinned. “Same to you, uptight furball.”
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fanfic-collection · 3 years
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Loki x Reader: Apocalypse ch 3
As promised, please comment/like/reblog, anything
rebel4fandom
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You begrudgingly left the warmth of your apartment. Thinking of Tony, and his friends that you had known, you knew you were able to do more than just huddle in the warmth of your living space.
The next several hours passed with you stomping through the halls, pounding on doors and seeing if anyone was still inside your building. To your relief, it was empty.
So, bracing against the bitter winds, you stepped outside and into the street, making your way to the next building over. Thus, you continued the process. Eventually, you found a small family, hunkered down in their family room. You pleaded for them to go to one of the shelters and with much persuasion and assurance that Tony Stark thought it was the right thing to do. The Avengers all supported it, after all, you convinced them to bundle up and follow you to brace the cold.
The trek to the shelter was long and arduous. You helped keep the weaker members of the family upright, blocking them from the buffeting wind that whipped through the city streets among the skyscrapers. Abandoned cars lined the streets, some with doors left open and snow piling up inside.
It seemed the snow had stopped today, but the wind still whipped up the snow into flurries, creating near white out conditions. You had your face bundled and had managed to scavenge ski goggles but the people you led were not nearly as lucky, you knew some of them were following you blindly. Some of them were stumbling over garbage, fire hydrants, city decorations, and objects you prayed were not dead bodies.
When at last you finally reached the shelter, the people running the shelter thanked you with a warm drink. They were grateful for more living people, but you knew it was filled to capacity and more mouths to feed meant less supplies for everyone else.
The number of living residents you found each day was quickly dwindling, it was only a week in.
Today as you sat inside the shelter, warming up from your trek, you saw another rescuer leading victims in. The Black Widow herself.
“I’m used to Russian winters but damn.” She said stamping her feet in the entrance to the area, her teeth rattling. “Alright it’s been years, but still.” She was shouting over the howl of the wind.
They ushered her inside, closer to where you were sitting with your mug of hot water.
“Hey, aren’t you Stark’s, uh?”
“Cousin or something, yea.” You nodded, telling her your name and holding your hand out to introduce yourself.
“I remember seeing you around the tower and the compound occasionally.” Natasha nodded, “Nice to see a familiar face.” She smiled at you, lowering her scarf and raising her goggles. “Feel like I’m going to have to crawl into a dead tauntaun out there or something.”
“Star Wars?” You laughed.
She shrugged with a grin. “Hey, anything to stay warm. I don’t really see much of anyone these days, we’re spread out so much trying to see how many people we can save around the world while we have the big guns figuring out what’s causing this.”
“Dr. Strange?”
“Yea, without his infinity stone, he’s a lot weaker.”
You nodded, “Shame about that.”
“I’m not complaining too much.” Nat chuckled weakly.
“Fair point.”
Natasha stretched her arms, “Even this bitter cold reminds me I’m alive.”
“We’re all glad you are.”
“There’s quite a few people that are alive again after that blip that we thought would stay dead.” Natasha said thoughtfully.
You nodded, “Yea, it’s weird how some of our biggest enemies became our friends too. Like what’s his name, Peter Quill? He was enemies with that Nebula girl, and then she became their closest ally, and Gamora vanished but, actually I’m not sure how that worked.”
Natasha shook her head, “Yea, you’d have to ask them.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, “Although, when Thor said his brother sacrificed himself to stop the initial invasion of Thanos?”
You smiled, “I remember him being here for a bit, right?”
Natasha paused then slowly drew out the word, “Yes… He was, wasn’t he?”
“He came here to recover, Asgard didn’t want him, but they gave the Avengers the means to heal him.”
“Just the initial healing, once he could stand, he went back to Asgard. Right?”
“Yea, I talked with him a bit. He really wasn’t what people made him out to be.”
Natasha raised her eyebrow. “Tell that to Clint.”
“I’m not saying Clint shouldn’t hate him, I’m just saying, Loki well, he doesn’t have a silver spoon up his ass like I thought he did.”
Nat quirked her head.
“Some master spy, you think you’d interrogate him and get more out of him. Honestly you seemed to only get what you wanted out of him when you interrogated him.”
“Oh he definitely got in your head, what did he do to you?”
“Nothing!” You held up your hands, “I’m all me. I just, it seems kinda convenient that he talked only about the Hulk and the one thing he gets you to think about is the Hulk. Hardly seems like a stretch that you would draw a conclusion that his plan was about the Hulk.”
Natasha frowned and furrowed her brow, “Are you saying we shouldn’t have trusted Loki and not let them take him back to Asgard and should have kept him weak and in chains?”
You scrambled upright from your relaxed position. “No, no, no! I just, I kept thinking about the interrogation tapes and it seemed really bad spy work.”
Natasha huffed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t…”
“I’m going to go look for others, maybe my shoddy work will help elsewhere.” Natasha set down her warm drink and she stalked off.
One of the nearby workers looked at you and shook their head. “Smooth.”
You scowled at them. Downing the last of your drink that it almost scalded your throat, you slammed it on the table and walked out after Natasha, sure to walk in another direction.
-
When the sun started to get lower in the sky, you hurried back to your apartment. There was no chance of risking being out at night. Any exposure in the dark would be instant hypothermia. Being alone at night was instant death. Thankfully it was still July so the days were longer, and you had more time to get back to your home, but you did not risk any amount of time in the dark.
Getting back to your home you settled back into bed, trying to thaw out and shiver yourself back to life. The heat croaked to life and you looked at the supplies you had collected to sustain yourself. It wasn’t much, but it would keep you going.
Swallowing hard, you turned on the TV and waited to see what news might bring.
A man was being interviewed, some sort of wild animal attack. No. Something else. You recognized Falcon on TV, the new Captain America. He was trying to talk to a survivor in a med unit. The survivor was near catatonic, covered in frost bite and mumbling in horror.
“Get the camera away from him, he’s not gonna talk if you keep shoving that thing in his face.” Sam grumbled.
The camera pulled away but the mic stayed close to Sam.
“Listen, just tell me what happened. Please, this isn’t the first attack, but you’re our first survivor. We need to know what’s happening. You’re ok, I’m Captain America, Falcon, call me Sam, whatever you want, I’m here and I’ll protect you.” Sam bent down and took their bandaged hand in his.
The man stared at Sam blankly, eyes staring into the distance, “They-they,” He stammered, “it… them… those things… they killed my whole family.”
Sam nodded, “I’m so sorry for your loss. Please, anything you remember, what they look like, sound like, anything.”
The man whispered, “Monsters.”
A roar of protests exploded as the press filling the room rushed forward trying to press microphones at Sam and the victim.
You could see the look of exasperation in Sam’s eyes at the press as the victim succumbed to exhaustion, or pain, though you were thankful the heart monitor showed him alive.
Abruptly a gold sparkling circle appeared in the room and the media jumped back in fright. A man you recognized as Dr. Strange stepped out.
“I’m a doctor.” Strange announced. “I’ll be taking over this case.”
Sam rolled his eyes.
“Everyone out.” Strange dragged out the ‘e’ in everyone.
And then the camera was in a hospital lobby. And you realized you were on your knees in bed, leaning towards the TV trying to know what had just happened, completely bewildered and about a hundred times more frightened.
More than just the cold was killing people?
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erindarroch · 7 years
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Fun and Games
by Justine Graham and Erin Darroch 
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"Han," Leia tugged on his arm. "Look at this."
Han followed the direction of her gaze and then shook his head, giving her a wry smile. "That's a rigged game, Sweetheart. Stand here and watch 'em for a while; you'll see they change the setup for each species. It's a racket."
"No, I mean look at the prizes." Clutching the neck of her plush TaunTaun in one hand—a trophy Han had won and gallantly presented to her at the last booth they'd visited—she gestured with the other hand at the items dangling around the frame of the stall, then looked back at Han just in time to see horrified realization dawning in his eyes.
"What the hell…." Han murmured, moving past her towards the small booth. "What the—Hey, pal," he called to the stall's operator, a burly humanoid woman with piercing yellow eyes and a nest of orange curls framing her broad face. "Who're these supposed to be?"
The woman gave him a look of incredulity as she heaved her thickset frame off her stool and moved along the front of the stall in their direction. "You been livin' on some backwater planet for the last few years?" she challenged. "Who do ya think?" She lifted one of the prizes and waggling it at him. It was a soft doll, a little more than a handspan tall, rather simply made of printed fabric that had been stitched into the shape of a Wookiee and filled with plush stuffing. The print on the fabric was crudely drawn and the face appeared a bit cartoonish, but it was still easily recognizable as a depiction of a Kashyyyk native, complete with a stitched-in bandolier draped diagonally across its chest. "This one's the mighty Chewbacca, of course. And this here is the Princess," she tapped one of the dangling toys and set it swinging. Judging by the style of white dress and the elaborate hairstyle depicted on the fabric of the swaying doll, Leia realized it must have been modeled on the holo images of herself that had been broadcast around the galaxy just after the destruction of the first Death Star, when she'd presided over the awards ceremony that had followed their victory.
"These," the woman clarified, gesturing around at the dangling prize dolls, "are the heroes of the Battle of Yavin."
Leia covered her face with one hand and peeked at Han through her fingers, feeling simultaneously giddy with amusement and utterly mortified. Han cast her a look that showed his own emotions were similarly at war. His mobile face seemed to struggle between expressions, finally settling on a sort of horrified amazement.
"This here's the Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker," the woman continued, setting the Chewie doll to one side and then lifting a blond-haired doll whose printed attire featured brown trousers and a buttery yellow flight jacket. "He's the one that blew up the Death Star," she informed them, in a tone that said these were well-known facts that every simpleton and schoolchild must already know. "The first one, I mean," she amended, staring down at the doll for a lingering moment.
"He ain't a Master yet," Han muttered, though the woman didn't appear to hear him.
She cradled the Luke doll in one palm, and fondly poked its soft belly with her forefinger. "He's a cutie, that one. And he practically saved the whole galaxy with that one shot, don'tcha know."
"He had a little help, don'tcha know," Han retorted, looking mildly indignant.
"Yeah, yeah, this guy," the stall runner poked another of the dangling prizes with her finger and set it swinging alongside the swaying Leia doll. The toy depicted a brown-haired human male garbed in a white shirt and black vest, with blue trousers featuring an approximation of the Corellian bloodstripe along each of the printed seams. "He's called Han Solo."
Leia glanced at Han's face and had to hold her breath and press her lips together so she wouldn't burst out laughing. He wore that mulish expression, the belligerent one he got when he was gearing up to argue with someone.
"Yeah?" Han prompted. "So what did he do?"
The woman shrugged. "Ain't ever been too clear on that one," she admitted. "But the Princess gave him a medal so I guess he did somethin' important. And now I hear they're gettin' married."
Leia's eyes flew wide and she choked as Han's head swivelled in her direction. She tried to draw a breath but found herself spluttering with laughter that could no longer be contained.
"Is that so?" Han queried in a tone of bemusement, cocking a quizzical eyebrow at the princess.
Leia gave him a helpless shrug, shaking her head and trying—unsuccessfully—to stifle her laughter.
"Yeah, that's what they say," the woman responded, a dreamy expression crossing her blunt features. She seemed completely oblivious to the byplay between Han and Leia, and it was clear she hadn't recognized them. Leia supposed that the holo images upon which the dolls' designs had been based had been taken more than four years ago, and they'd all changed a bit since then. Furthermore, she and Han were dressed in casual clothes completely unlike the garb depicted on the dolls, and Leia's hair was gathered in a messy knot at the nape of her neck instead of arranged in an elegant braided crown atop her head. Evidently, those differences were enough to obscure any physical similarities between themselves and the 'Heroes of the Rebellion'.
"I'm hopin' they'll show the wedding on the Holonet," the woman was saying, still smiling a little pensively. "It's about time we had somethin' nice to think about and look forward to, after all the troubles."
Han's expression softened. "Yeah," he agreed, angling his head back in Leia's direction and giving her a speculative look. "It's about time."
Still smiling, Leia returned his direct gaze, but she felt her heart skip and flutter as they stared at one another. The way he was focused on her now, she knew exactly what he was thinking. They hadn't actually discussed a formal marriage yet—not in so many words—but it certainly felt to Leia like an inevitable conclusion, one they were moving steadily towards. His changeable eyes seemed to darken with intent as he looked at her, making her feel as if the two of them were standing on the cusp of something monumental.
"Smart guy, hooking up with such a brave, beautiful princess, don'tcha think?" Han addressed his comments to the stall keeper, but his eyes remained fixed on Leia's face.
"Smart? Maybe... But lucky, too," the woman opined.
"Yeah, you're not wrong about that one, pal," he murmured, his voice so low it was likely only Leia could hear him.
Reaching for Leia, he drew her close and lowered his head to hers. Heedless of the woman's presence, not even caring if the whole of Hanna City were watching them, Leia stretched up to meet his offered kiss. His lips were warm and soft against hers, and his free hand came up to cradle her face with a touch so tender it made her racing heart pound even faster. When their lips parted, Han slipped his hand down the length of her arm and entwined his fingers with hers. She smiled up at him in unabashed adoration as she squeezed his hand and he squeezed back.
The sound of a throat being pointedly cleared drew their attention back to the stall keeper. While they'd been distracted, the woman had pulled one of the Han dolls down and set it side-by-side with one of the Leia dolls atop the counter that separated the players from the interior of the stand. "Tell ya what, Loverboy, you win, and you can have the pair. Two for the price of one. They oughta go together anyway, I reckon."
"You're on, lady," Han released Leia and turned to face the woman more fully. Stuffing a hand into his front pocket, he then withdrew a handful of credit chips in small denominations and slapped them down on the counter. "In fact, tell me what I've gotta do to win 'em all."
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https://www.fanfiction.net/u/7449328/justinegraham
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