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moonstrider9904 · 26 days

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Lose It

Grand Admiral Thrawn x Female Reader

Summary: As Governor Pryce's assistant, you've had to put up with a lot of things and meet a lot of stuck up imperials with flying colors, but when Grand Admiral Thrawn lands on Lothal, you find yourself stuttering upon your words, flustered, and invited to a gala dinner that'll define your career.

Tags/warnings: SMUT. 18+ adults only. Corporate struggles, Pryce being mean, first meetings, alcohol consumption, making out, PiV sex unprotected, fingering. This is my first time in a long while writing Thrawn, so sorry if any of this is ooc.

Word count: 8042

Playlist: Lose it by Oh Wonder - and its Jerry Folk Remix for the smut 👀

Read on AO3 | One-shot masterlist | Main masterlist |

With your eyes glued to the datapad, you felt as if caf would be the only thing to get you through that morning.

Sunrises on Lothal were beautiful, and yet, you were never able to enjoy them. Your desk on the seventh floor, a place relatively close to the much more humane office destined for your boss, was in a tiny reception room that had no windows; you'd have to walk a good kilometer inside the facility for you to get a glimpse of the outside world. You didn't mind the walking - it was always good for your mind whenever you felt saturated - but lately it seemed as if your boss had the uncanny ability to always demand something new from you whenever you resolved to walk out that door to do anything remotely human. Never being one to be superstitious, when it came to Governor Pryce, you wouldn't give her any more leverage.

You scoffed lightly at yourself. With the boss you had, it was a miracle the cup of caf you were drinking was actually for yourself and not for her. You had a little wager going on in your head to see what else that woman could take from you - so far, she'd already claimed your motivation and a good chunk of your faith in the Empire.

You regretted having Pryce on your thoughts when a notification pushed itself to the corner of your datapad. I'm not available, you thought to yourself, as if that had ever kept you from doing anything that was beneath you before, or worse, getting locked in a task that would absorb all your time and sucked the energy out of you like a leech. There never seemed to be an in between. You scanned the subject and, though you didn't hear alarms being set off in your mind, you did find your interest piqued.

URGENT: Imperial High Command Visit, Subject Classified. All imperial personnel directly reporting to levels SC6 and above must report to direct management for instructions.

And sure enough, you'd have no more peace for the remainder of the morning when you read that. You downed the rest of your caf and mentally braced yourself for what was to come. It wasn't uncommon for you to receive messages like that, but something big usually happened when you did, and you were used to finding out who or what it was about until the very last moments. It looked like it would simply be one of those days, so you grabbed your datapad and left your desk, making your way across the little reception room and into Pryce's office.

One thing you figured you could appreciate about Pryce was that there was never any beating around the bush, and it always made things a lot quicker, even in situations when it felt like you were having a band aid ripped from you. More like a piece of duct tape, but it was quick either way. And when you walked into her office, your back straight and gaze placed directly on your boss, donning what she would deem the desirable posture of an Imperial public servant, Pryce was already standing up from behind her desk with her blue eyes piercing into you.

Only she could make such a beautiful eye color look so menacing.

"You're here not two minutes after my comm was sent," Pryce commented. "I want that efficiency from you every day."

You were that efficient every day, but you weren't about to argue with Pryce about her short-sightedness.

"Put everything you were working with on hold for now," Pryce told you.

You didn't question the importance of the current events, but you never liked it when she told you to cast things aside to make room for her new wishes.

"I need you to send this out as a comm to all staff levels SC5 and below," Pryce handed you a drive, "and then I need you to make sure Congregation Room 2 is set to receive a minimum of seven people, but leave three extra chairs and make sure it's well stocked in refreshments. Put all my comms outside of lines 1 and 2 on standby, redirect comms from lines 4 and 6 towards you, I'm sure those are all things you can handle."

Pryce began walking past you outside of her office, leaving you to follow as you made a mental list of what she was asking.

"Do not answer any questions you're asked by anyone," Pryce continued. "At the most, tell anyone who wants to know to refer to the comm I'm asking you to send out. Now, in that hard drive you'll find the comm, two diagrams, a statement, and a final comm different to the first one which must be sent out only to levels SC6 and above - they are all in the order they're meant to be sent out and the time and date is encrypted in their properties. Stick to them like clockwork, and program anything you need ahead of time. We cannot afford mistakes, I hope I'm clear about that. Once you're done with these duties, find me. I'll need you at my side the whole day."

"Yes, Governor Pryce," you answered with your most professional tone.

Pryce stopped in front of your desk in the reception. "One more thing. Tomorrow night there will be a welcoming gala on the higher levels of the facility. I assume you have something to wear?"

"Ma'am?" You questioned, inevitably puzzled. You were open to many requests from Pryce, and while nearly nothing surprised you anymore, it really sounded like Pryce was inviting you to a fancy event.

"You won't be dancing and fine dining," Pryce sneered. "You'll be assisting me as well as the logistics staff for the event. And, I cannot repeat this with enough emphasis, we cannot afford mistakes. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," you answered again.

Pryce was about to leave the reception and finally give you room to work, but she stopped and looked at you again.

"Ah, and refill the caf pots for the entire floor, we're all going to need it," Pryce spat before finally leaving without so much as a thank you or goodbye.

Would you like me to refill the fat cats' caf pots before or after I send out a highly important, classified comm to the entire facility? It was all you could do not to roll your eyes. You didn't want any cameras catching you in the act.

Luckily, you'd gotten very good at prioritizing. The high commands could wait for their caf, and if they couldn't, they could very well brew it themselves. The first thing on the list was checking the drive Pryce had given you so that you could write out any comms and either send them or program them, so you plugged the drive into your computer. You found that one of the diagrams Pryce had told you about wasn't meant to be sent out, but rather, it was full of instructions for you. And according to those instructions, you'd have time to be a professional performing tasks worthy of her level before fulfilling a caf quest that was very much beneath you.

But the other diagram caught your eye - it was a command structure you'd never seen before. You knew many of the names on it, and when you read the one at the top, began to grasp the magnitude of what was happening at Lothal. It seemed Pryce wouldn't be the top authority on the planet anymore, she'd now be answering to someone who carried a title far more imposing than hers.

The diagram was meant to be sent out with the first comm, so you read the draft, and you didn't know whether you should panic, be excited, or hide from anyone who already recognized you as assistant to the Governor who would want privileged answers. Words like Command Structure Reformation, High Level Staff Transition, and Low-level Cost Reduction caught your eye. You'd heard whispers of new projects and seen the factories that were being built on Lothal from afar, and it seemed you were the one being tasked with telling the facility about that. But you had the hunch something like this would only leave everyone with more questions than answers. No wonder Pryce had warned you about people asking you things, but you doubted it was out of any effort to protect you. She'd essentially just asked you to keep from saying anything that might spill any secrets.

You sent out the first comm immediately and scheduled anything else for the day, including the comm about the gala—that one got you wondering if you'd at least be paid extra, but you had little faith in that. When you were done with that, you locked the computer and removed the drive, and you took your datapad with you as well for whatever came up. You were now headed towards Congregation Room 2 to oversee its preparations, hoping to swiftly fulfill the second part of your instructions for that morning, but as you were leaving the reception room and entering the main hallway, you were abruptly almost bumped into by Pryce herself, who rushed down the hall followed by three Imperial men in high-ranking uniforms. Despite her urgency, she stopped to glare at you.

"Do not tell me you're only just finishing the comms," Pryce snarled. "Hurry up and fill the pots! Are you trying to make the staff furious?"

Without any other acknowledgement towards you, Pryce and the other imperials continued on their way. You felt heat rushing to your cheeks with the words you couldn't say to her, such as how perhaps she forgot what it was like to do routine comm writing or basically any other task the commoner would have to do any day and how long some of those could take ever since she got a high horse and an assistant. But you also knew if you stood there pondering, you'd get yelled at again—the fact that Pryce had chosen to do that in front of others made your blood boil, but as much as you didn't appreciate being humiliated as "that aloof assistant" in front of anyone, you had things to do, lowly as they were.

Another push notification presented itself on your datapad, which you stopped in your tracks to look at.

From: Governor Pryce

On your desk I left a stack of binders for Congregation Room 2. Do not forget them.

You added that little detail to the list of things to keep track of.

With each pot of caf you filled, a tiny part in your brain wondered if anyone would notice if you spat in it. The thought amused you, but you also feared Pryce far too much to try any stunts like that. Something told you she'd notice you sabotaging a pot of caf even if she was on a different planet. You let your fantasies of getting away with mischief get you through that particularly unpleasant part of the morning and finally headed back to your desk for the binders from Pryce and then towards the congregation room, walking so fast you would run if you went any quicker. It was a miracle you didn't drop the binders in the middle of the hallway, and you were happy fate was apparently smiling at you that day to prevent any more embarrassment in front of Imperial high command.

When you arrived, you were pleased to see that the room wasn't a mess. The large table in the center was perfectly clean, with no traces of dust, and the chairs had already been pushed in and straightened out neatly. The room had that corporate smell to it that you both loved and hated, and it was so quiet that it was oddly peaceful. You liked the way the blueish-gray walls were embellished by the large paintings on the walls, one on each of the longer sides of the room. You wished you had more time to admire them both, one of the landscapes of Lotha, and the other one far more abstract with bright shades of orange, magenta, some yellow, and hints of gold on a cream-colored canvas.

You set a binder down on each spot of the table, and then you tested the light dimmers in the room. You then placed a bottle of water next to each binder, and finally, you brewed a pot of caf for the Congregation Room that you hoped would be your last, at least for that day. Still, you admitted you could use another cup of fully loaded black caf yourself.

For a while, the sound of the caf brewing was the only thing to fill your ears. You watched the rich, dark droplets falling into the pot and filling it, letting your mind get some sort of rest. You had the strange feeling that you'd been worked to the bone and yet you hadn't accomplished anything that day... that was a feeling you got very often in your job.

"Strange to see two very opposing art pieces put together in one room," a deep, male voice inundated your senses, rich and luxurious like the caf filling the pot in front of you.

Despite the voice's velvet qualities, you jumped up on the spot, startled, and you turned to face its source.

"I apologize, I did not mean to startle you," he said. He was a tall Chiss man in a white uniform, his profile frame facing you as he faced the painting of the landscape of Lothal's countryside. His posture was regal, with his hands placed behind his back, resting in lightly formed fists. "It would seem a more traditional choice to have paintings that are similar to one another, enough for them to complement but not cause any redundancy."

When he finished speaking, the man looked at you, his deep crimson gaze both gentle and penetrating on you.

"Would you agree?" He asked you.

You didn't have an idea of what to answer, and even if you did, you were stunned. You'd never crossed paths with someone like him before - his aura was intoxicating, and the fact that he had deemed you worthy of addressing spiraled in your mind. Any other imperial would have looked at you over the nose and deemed their time too important to waste on a mere assistant.

"I-I-" You paused to clear your throat, cursing your sudden inability to speak. "I have indeed seen that tendency in other places, just not here. Personally, I like the other painting a lot more."

Your mind began to race as you worried whether you were supposed to salute him or do anything, but it would depend on his rank. You figured standing up straight and not making a further fool out of yourself would suffice, but you looked over at the plaque over his chest just to be sure.

It wasn't a pattern or a rank you recognized. Had that man smitten you that hard?

He gave you the hint of a smile before turning around and looking at the other painting, the abstract piece, and he took his time to admire it. You wondered if perhaps you should offer him a cup of caf, ask him if he was there for the staff meeting, comment more on the painting... you had no clue.

But the silence was suffocating you, and you knew you wanted to hear more of his luscious voice. You looked at the plaque on his chest and took your best guess at his rank judging by the sequence of colors - you didn't get to be assistant to the Governor without memorizing imperial structure level well before.

"Admiral," you stammered minimally, "is there something I can help you with?"

Slowly, his frame turned towards you, his lips again curved ever so slightly. "It is Grand Admiral, actually."

You felt heat rushing to your cheeks - even your best guess based on your experience didn't save you from messing up in front of the greatest force of nature that facility had seen in a while.

"O-oh, I apogolize--er, apologize," you stuttered.

You wanted to scream, so you resorted to just doing it internally. It then dawned on you who this man really was based on his rank alone. The reason your morning had been so hectic was standing right there in front of you, watching you squirm. This was the man Governor Pryce would answer to from now on. Grand Admiral Thrawn. You straightened your back at the realization and bowed your head shortly before looking him in the eyes again, and much to your surprise, he seemed amused with you. Not in the high-and-mighty way, but rather, it was almost as if something about you was endearing.

"You may be at ease," Thrawn said. "I would like to hear your thoughts on this abstract piece. You said you prefer this over the other one."

You breathed in before speaking and hoped your language skills didn't fail you again, and you took just a couple of paces closer to him, allowing yourself to view the painting better.

"Well, I'm no expert," you warned.

"You do not have to be," Thrawn mused. "Appreciation of the arts can be enhanced by knowledge, but the true purpose of art is to produce sensations in the viewer. Any insight you may have to share is valuable."

You looked at the painting again and found it in yourself to relax. "I like the warmth of the colors. And their livelihood, too. It makes me think of freedom, and the gold flecks seem to speak about the beauty of that freedom, as well as the luxury of having it."

"This desire of freedom speaks to you?" He asked you.

You then realized you were talking about lacking freedom to an Imperial Grand Admiral, and you felt your already racing heart quicken.

"I'm grateful for my work and I have no complaints," you corrected despite your many complaints about your boss that morning, easing yourself back into what the painting produced within you. "It's just that... the bright pinks and oranges are hard not to notice in the middle of these gray walls... they can become confining after too many hours in them."

"Hm," Thrawn hummed. "I always prefer having a view myself. I share your sentiment."

You figured having a Grand Admiral's agreement on an art matter was the biggest compliment you'd get that day.

"Might I ask," you began, "what do you think of it?"

Thrawn side-eyed you, but the attitude with which he did it seemed pleased, as well as intrigued with you. He then looked at the painting again. "This color palette reminds me of a current I've been witnessing in none other but rebellious efforts. There is a certain diversity to it, as well as the clear nature of abstract art mirroring the rebellion itself. Your observations of the contrast of the color with the gray of our facilities and the need for freedom only confirm to me that I was not far off with my own initial interpretation."

You were dazed, and the need to speak more plunged into you like thorns.

"How interesting," you said with an airy voice. "For these sorts of emotions to be manifested to multiple people in a similar way."

"Yes," Thrawn said. "Though current context may have some influence on this... collective perception."

Before the conversation could advance, you heard the sound of Governor Pryce's voice approaching from down the hall, her words quick and frantic, clashing with your and Thrawn's aura like nails scratching smooth stone. Soon enough, Pryce appeared at the door of the room with a large number of Imperials behind her, and though she was relieved to find Thrawn there, you could tell she was displeased at the sight of you standing with him.

"Grand Admiral, please excuse the lack of hospitality," Pryce said as she glared at you.

"Not at all, Governor Pryce, I have been well-received," Thrawn said; you could have sworn you noticed him glance at you as he did.

Regardless of Thrawn trying to ease some of the weight off you, the last thing you wanted was to have Pryce suspect anything less than decent coming from you. But fortunately, you noticed Pryce scanning the room, hopefully noticing everything was set up exactly according to her instruction. And now that she had come to you, it wasn't necessary for you to go out and look for her like she'd told you earlier.

Pryce suppressed a scoff. "Yes, well, it appears this room has been prepared properly for your arrival." She then faced the rest of the Imperials behind her. "Please come in. My assistant will help accommodate you."

You understood the instruction and acknowledged Thrawn one last time before walking over to the doorway and directing multiple people towards their chairs around the table. Before Pryce took her own seat, she approached you and leaned in close to your shoulder - your mind raced with the question of whether she would congratulate or choke you.

"You are not to be left alone with the Grand Admiral again, do you understand?" She whispered, but the aggression of her tone was anything but inconspicuous.

"Yes ma'am," you acknowledged without trying to offer any explanation in return.

"Stay here at the back of the room," Pryce ordered. "Oblige to any request these officers may have. I don't want slip-ups."

"Yes, ma'am," you repeated.

"And this goes without saying, but none of what you are about to hear us discuss leaves this room," Pryce added. "This is of the highest confidentiality."

You nodded. "I understand, ma'am."

You knew Pryce was mad at finding you alone with Thrawn, but if she still kept you at that meeting, you had no reason to fear you'd be unemployed tomorrow. The meeting took hours, all through which you kindly obliged to whatever was needed from you.

And you felt crimson eyes on you all the while.

The morning after, bright and early, you arrived at your office and noticed a surprise on your desk. Pryce was nowhere to be seen, but on top of the stack of folders and datapads waiting for you to check on them, there was a bag over your desk with a delicate parchment on it that had your name written in ink. It looked large enough to hold a gown, and you remembered Pryce had mentioned something about you having an outfit for the welcoming gala you'd attend that night.

Pryce got me a dress? Employer review season must be coming up.

You pushed the jokes aside in your brain and decided to be more appreciative. Besides, it was far more likely Pryce would rather give you what she wanted you to wear before risking letting you make a poor fashion choice, thus surely rendering the welcoming gala a complete, unsaveable failure.

You took the parchment from the bag and noticed the other side of it had more writing on it.

Art deserves to be appreciated.

You felt your heart skip a beat and the oxygen leaving your head. That dress wasn't from Pryce, it was from Thrawn. It made you all the more motivated to unzip the dress bag and look at what was inside, and you felt your breath leaving your body when you saw the exquisite black fabric of the long gown. The outer layer of the dress was primarily lace, with sequins and beads very discreetly forming delicate flower forms every few inches. You knew it was high couture when your fingertips brushed the fabric, the quality evident under your touch—you tried not to think how much it cost.

Were you even supposed to accept a gift like that? You weren’t sure. It might not even fit, and even if it did, maybe you were expected to return it after the gala.

But who were you to refuse a request from a Grand Admiral? It’s not as if Pryce hadn’t told you to oblige to anything those Imperials the day before, and to your knowledge, that included Thrawn.

That day at work didn’t have you running up and down the facility like the day before, constantly required at Pryce’s side, beck, and call, but the workload didn’t stop. Between comms regarding structure changes, further details being given to the public, overseeing preparations for the gala and familiarizing yourself with the guestlist of the event, and the routine work you always did day to day for Pryce, you were hardly able to leave your desk.

But all that made the end of the day much sweeter, and when you were off your shift, you hurried home with the gown in hand. Quickly, you showered, dried your hair and styled it for the night, dolled yourself up with makeup and perfume, and at last, it was time for the dress. You were suddenly nervous about the dress not fitting, but when you tried it on, it slipped on you with ease and hugged your silhouette beautifully. The crop of the dress was perfect for your body type, and it accentuated your curves in all the right places.

Either Thrawn had someone investigate all your measurements to find the perfect fit, or he was able to eye you up and down and determine that for himself. Either way, your heart began to race. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the attention you were getting.

You grabbed a pair of shoes that went well with the dress and added some finishing touches to yourself, and you still had about an hour to spare before the time Pryce had asked you to be at the facility pre-event. You were out your door regardless. You figured, for an event like that, arriving sooner couldn’t hurt if only it meant having a bit more control over it.

As Pryce’s assistant, you’d been to the higher levels of the capitol a few times before for events of the sort, but you’d never seen the place decorated like it was now. The burgundy walls looked even more opulent with the warm golden lighting, and there were several tables laid out around a dance floor, each one decorated with similar burgundy, wine, and gold motifs with extravagant floral centerpieces and delicate glassware for each member that would occupy a spot in them. At the head of the dance floor there was an elongated table whose decoration matched that of the others, with exactly seven seats on it. Your chest fluttered when you glanced at the middle seat. Your day of overseeing preparations for the event had made you all too familiar with who would be occupying that spot.

You still had a job to do. You made sure the logistics team was spot on with last-minute arrangements, verifying there was enough food and wine for everyone who would be there. You went to confirm that every sound, music, and holo-projection worked properly and no one would be embarrassed on behalf of technical difficulties. Because of you, everything was spot-on well before any guests started arriving.

Timely as always, the first one to do so was Pryce. She donned an elegant gown, but as elegant as she looked, she still had that authoritarian air to her, rather than the aura of someone who went to enjoy herself. And she looked around the room not turning up her nose at anything; it seemed she was satisfied with your work for the time being. She walked up to you, and although you’d done a good job, you knew not to expect congratulations from her.

“Perform routine checks every fifteen minutes,” she instructed. “Light, sound, refreshments, staff—we need full stock at all times.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you replied.

It was only then that Pryce stopped and looked at you up and down.

“Where did you get a gown like that?” She questioned. “You look like a guest.” “It just happened to be lying around,” you answered. No way were you about to tell her it was a gift from Thrawn.

“Yes, well, good on you for matching the event’s elegance,” Pryce said. “I shall leave you to your duties. I need to receive the guests at the door, but you’ll need to take them to their places.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear Pryce had just complimented you in some way. Regardless, you obliged to her orders and powered up your datapad to view the seating charts, and soon enough, everyone began to arrive. You were grateful you’d chosen a comfortable pair of shoes for the night, otherwise your feet would have already been killing you from walking up and down the room taking everyone to their places. You were unaware of how much time had gone past, but it seemed like you’d successfully gotten almost everyone to their chairs. The next time you were at the entrance to receive your next guest, you glanced down at your datapad to get a clearer vision of how many seats were still empty.

You then looked up to find crimson eyes staring at you, and you were unable to control the smile that curved your lips. In turn, Thrawn’s gaze traced your entire silhouette, and the intoxicating scent of your perfume didn’t escape him. His faint smile held triumph; he was always pleased when his plans worked out according to his machination.

“May I lead you towards your seat?” You asked him.

He nodded and, to your surprise, Thrawn held out his arm bent at a right angle and offered it to you. You raised your eyebrows and looked at him, puzzled.

“A lady must never cross a ballroom such as this unescorted,” he said to you.

If you hadn’t been working that night, you already would have given out.

You obliged to Thrawn’s offer and linked your arm in his as you led him towards the long table at the top of the dance floor. It was hard to ignore the looks you were getting, and you were privy to the confusion in the eyes of many of the people who were looking your way, no doubt questioning themselves why such a lovely lady at the arm of the Grand Admiral was also clearly an employee. You were certain that if they hadn’t already seen you leading them to their spots with a datapad in your hands, you would have been mistaken for Thrawn’s plus one.

You reached the table and gestured at the middle seat, where Thrawn sat in all his regality. With a final nod of acknowledgement, you smiled at him and made your way back towards the entrance, aware of the fact that you swayed your hips slightly more than usual as you walked away.

Hours wore on. Your management of the event was spotless, and everything was on schedule. The food during dinner was warm, and no one was left waiting obscenely long for a refill of their drink. Speeches were made by the staff, including Pryce and Thrawn himself, talking not only about the supremacy of the Empire but also the great plans they had in mind for Lothal—but you’d already heard enough of that during the meeting the day before.

After dinner and all the formalities, the gathering turned more festive and people took to the dance floor to sway to the elegant string music. From that point on, the night also relaxed for you and the rest of the staff, as everyone was mostly just minding their own business. You stood at the corner of the room watching as everyone danced, and you couldn’t help but search for Thrawn with your gaze. A part of you hoped not to find him dancing with another lucky woman, but you shook the thought away. He wasn’t on the dance floor anyway.

In fact, you couldn’t spot him anywhere.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Pryce rushed to you, seemingly concerned.

“You need to get General Perkins some water, now,” she said.

You nodded and pulled your datapad out. “Getting a waiter on it now—”

“No,” Pryce interrupted. “No, the man is drunk out of his mind. I fear what he’ll do if he’s confronted by a waiter. You at least look the part of a partygoer.”

“O-okay,” you obliged.

“Hurry,” Pryce growled before walking off.

You partly understood the urgency; you didn’t want a drunk imperial on your hands either. You hurried over to the bar and filled two glasses with water and carried both on a tray with your data pad on the other hand. You tried to make your way around the dance floor, but everyone was gathered around the tables at the edges, and from afar, you noticed General Perkins already beginning to swoon in his seat, his eyes threatening to close as he laughed absently.

Yeah, no wonder Pryce had told you to hurry. The dance floor wasn’t as crowded anyway—you figured you had better chances going through it.

You came to regret your decision when, halfway across the dancefloor, another less than graceful Imperial general crashed into you. You managed to keep your balance and not fall, but your datapad was knocked out of your hand and slammed to the floor loudly. The water from both of the glasses splashed all over you, and the glasses shattered on the floor scandalously followed by the clanking of the silver tray after them.

Everyone around you took several steps back, leaving you exposed. The general who’d crashed into you disappeared without acknowledging you, and you were the sole center of embarrassment, feeling as the blood rushed to your face. You wanted to hide, but multiple pairs of eyes pierced into you, judging you, whispering amongst themselves words you didn’t even want to speculate.

Pryce rushed towards you and glanced at the scene before glaring straight into your soul.

“You’re fired,” she spat, and as she left, she gestured at two nearby waiters to clean up the mess.

Your chest heaved up and down as you processed what had just happened, and just as you were about to run away from the scene, you felt your hand being taken and an arm gripping swiftly at your waist. You gasped when Thrawn came into your view in front of you, holding you up despite what had just happened, and you could almost feel everyone’s soul leaving their body. Before Thrawn met your gaze, he looked over at the band and with a single nod instructed them to begin playing. When the music resumed, Thrawn’s gaze finally met yours, and he led you across the dance floor, spinning you and waltzing with you, becoming one with the music.

Your jaw dropped, and your eyes on him were dreamy. “Why are you doing this?”

He smiled at you, purposefully spinning the two of you more elaborately. “Dance, my darling. Dance.”

Exhaling all the tension in your chest, you smiled up at Thrawn and let him dance you away.

Around you, couples began to swarm to the dance floor once more minding the waiters cleaning up the shattered glass. In the second plane, you could hear the drunken general already making a mess, but that wasn’t your problem anymore now that Pryce had fired you. You simply let Thrawn lead the way, and when you weren’t dancing with him, you were at his side with your arm in his, holding a glass of champagne in your free hand that you never would have gotten as an assistant, and you actually found it in yourself to enjoy the evening.

When it was late, Thrawn led you outside to the courtyard. You both stopped and looked each other in the eyes—he towered over you, and you loved that. You smiled softly at him, eyes seemingly sparkling in the dark.

“Thank you for what you did back there,” you said.

Thrawn’s faint smile widened almost imperceptibly. “My pleasure.”

You looked down, blushing. “Thank you for the gown, too.”

Thrawn gave a low chuckle. “You look exquisite in it.”

A thought formed in the back of your mind at what he’d just said, and suddenly you found blood rushing between your legs at the idea of you being outside of the beautiful gown.

“Shall I take you home?” He asked you.

Your heart sank, but just as you were about to accept, you noticed Thrawn moving himself closer to you, his hand moving up to your cheek to gently brush your skin.

“Or perhaps… you would like to accompany me?” Thrawn suggested.

You knew you could say no, but every fiber of your body wanted to follow him wherever he could take you. Slowly, you nodded, desire already flooding your gaze, and the transition from the courtyard to his private quarters went by in a blur. You felt slightly out of touch when you stood in the opulent living room, unsure of what to do—you’d never done anything of the sort before. The place was absolutely beautiful, though, with a regal blue and silver color palette and a large window overlooking the entire Lothal skyline. The furniture inside was of the highest grade, and there were multiple paintings, crafts, and sculptures decorating the place. Not even in your wildest dreams did you picture yourself standing in a place like that, but regardless, there you were.

Thrawn gestured at the couch in front of an automatic fireplace that ignited when you sat, and he disappeared for a few moments only to return with two glasses of wine. He sat next to you, handing you your glass, setting his cup on the caf table as you took a sip from your cup. That was the best wine you’d ever tasted.

After a few moments in silence, Thrawn took your cup and placed it on the table next to his. His hands went up to cup your face where his fingertips could gently brush the hair growing out of the nape of your neck, and he leaned in to kiss your lips. You sighed into his touch and let him in. your hands brushed up his arms and past his shoulders, and your arms wrapped around his upper back. Part of you expected him to push forward and take you there on that couch, but you felt Thrawn standing and pulling you along with him, pausing his kiss to lead you across the room towards his chamber. The bedroom’s opulent aesthetic matched that of the living room, and when you both entered, you noticed Thrawn pressing a control on the walls that lowered a solid gray curtain over the large window and dimmed the lights.

It was then that your gaze fell on the large bed at the center of the room, causing you to whimper softly in anticipation. You heard Thrawn chuckle softly behind you as he approached you with his fingertips softly tracing up the sides of your arms, landing at your shoulders. He swept your hair away from your neck and you felt his breath fanning over your skin, flooding you with shivers in the best way possible.

“You are gorgeous,” Thrawn whispered before kissing you just below your ear. He trailed his kisses down towards your collarbone, stopping where the fabric of your gown began only to make his way back up. You sighed in pleasure as you relished in every tingling sensation left by his lips, and before long, you felt Thrawn’s fingers beginning to undo the zipper at the side of your gown.

You felt the fabric of your dress becoming loose on your body, and as Thrawn continued to lavish your skin, he carefully slipped the dress down your curves. Your body was now exposed, with the only item of fabric left on you being a delicate pair of panties. You turned around on the spot and faced him, watching as his eyes brushed through every inch of your body with hunger. His hands were now on your waist pulling you closer to him again, and he kissed your lips with a brighter fire than before. Your hands snaked up his chest and landed behind his neck, your fingertips playing with his skin just above the rim of his neckline. Thrawn looked handsome in his white uniform, but you wanted him to be naked too.

You wondered if he could read your mind, because as you continued to kiss, Thrawn undid the buttons of his blazer and he cast it aside, proceeding to remove the shirt that covered his skin. With a light moan, you let your hands roam free towards his trousers and undid the belt, button, and zipper, and soon enough, he’d lost all the clothing on his body. You felt his fingertips curling around your panties, spreading the fabric enough to pull it down and let it fall at your feet. His hands explored your curves before he led you towards the bed, letting you lie on your back and taking his place beside you, his broad frame hovering over you.

He kissed your lips again, and you sank into the mattress below as you felt your body shiver with his touch. Thrawn’s fingertips had found your inner thighs, tracing ever so softly and igniting your senses, prompting you to spread your legs nice and slow as he continued to tease the sensitive skin leading up between your legs. You felt your pulse come alive in your clit, aching for his touch, hoping he wouldn’t keep you waiting for so long. Thrawn had been such a gentleman ever since you’d met… surely he wouldn’t let you down when he’d already been doing so well.

Thrawn’s lips curved into a seductive smile, and finally, he traced a sole fingertip from your entrance and up your cunt, dragging the wetness over your sensitive flesh. You couldn’t help the ecstatic moan that left you, and Thrawn wasted no more time. With precision, he began to rub circles around your clit slowly, letting you feel everything. As your breath deepened, your body started squirming under him, a sight he welcomed with lust. His lips were on yours again, and you kissed him hungrily. Your pants became shorter with every moment that passed, already nearing your release.

But as much as Thrawn wanted you, he wouldn’t be impatient. He would take his time, do it right, the way he approached everything else. His fingers gave your clit a rest, making you whimper in the absence of his touch. Thrawn emerged from your lips and looked into your eyes as he took his fingers down and placed them at your entrance, sliding one slender, long finger inside you and curling it, pressing your sweetest spot. Pleasure instantly flooded your senses, and you felt as if you’d just had a secret revealed to you of the magnitude of the universe itself.

No one had ever made you feel that way.

You grind your hips against his hand, aching for more friction, and Thrawn obliged. The pace with which he fingered you increased just slightly, applying more pressure to set your mind ablaze, and the rest of his hand pressed slightly on your clit, giving you some very welcome sensations on the pearl of nerves. Your tiny whimpers escalated in pitch and in frequency the closer you got, with your hands gripping his hair behind his head, until soon you felt yourself tightening around his finger and your body quivering. Your whimpers became uncontrollable moans, each filled with burning ecstasy. Your head pressed back onto the pillow, and as your body shook, you felt your wetness dripping out between your legs as you rode out your orgasm, never wanting it to stop.

Before you were overstimulated, Thrawn retrieved his hand and pulled you towards him. Now he was lying on his back and you were sitting on the bed, panting to catch your breath. He pulled you closer, prompting you to get on top of him, and you stopped only momentarily to gasp at his erection, long and hard and ready for you. You placed your hands firmly on his muscular chest, steadying yourself, and you opened your legs and shimmied down until you felt his tip at your entrance.

A short moan escaped Thrawn when you slid yourself down on him. You were slow, taking in every moment you could as he stretched you out inside, painful and beautiful all at once. His length was fully inside you, and with a firm grip on your hips, Thrawn thrust up and down, beginning at a slow, luxurious pace. You threw your head back, moaning, then looked down to bask in the sight of his muscular build clenching and relaxing with his movements. You bent over and let your lips kiss whatever spot of Thrawn’s skin was in reach, and the new position gave you a mind-blowing angle for his length to lavish your inner walls, brushing past the spots he’d already left so sensitive from your previous orgasm. Thrawn’s pace quickened, nuzzling your face so that your lips could find his, and locked in a kiss, you continued basking in the bliss.

His hands then firmly grasped your ass and he turned you over on the bed, now on top of you. While Thrawn’s pace had initially been that of a gentleman, slow and at your service, you could tell he’d decided to let go of any bars holding him. His hips hammered into you faster, his teeth baring in a hungry grimace as a single low growl escaped him, and in return, you whimpered delicately as you let him have his way with you. Thrawn was moving faster than you ever could have thought possible for any man, but even that thought would be erased from your mind when you saw white. Your long, ecstatic moans filled the entirety of his quarters when your walls clenched around his girth and your body quaked underneath him, with his name and his rank escaping you loosely before those words became nothing but helpless little whines.

As Thrawn felt himself approaching his release, he lowered himself down on you to kiss your lips. You whimpered into him just as your second orgasm had died down, escalating obscenely quickly into a third one, the sensations peaking when your orgasm blended with his and you felt him release inside you before he relaxed his body on top of you.

After such an endeavor, you had no headspace left for anything but lying there beside him. You heard Thrawn whisper a few words to you, but you couldn’t make sense of any of what he said. The last thing you could register as you curled up on your side was the feeling of a blanket being draped over you and a pair of lips softly pressing a kiss to your forehead, and after that, you were done for the night.

Your sleep was dreamless, and when you woke up the morning after, you didn’t see Thrawn beside you. As you sat up, you felt a beautiful lingering soreness between your legs, and you couldn’t help but giggle to yourself as you remembered the events of the previous night, not just your time alone with Thrawn, but everything that led up to it. The curtain had been lifted from the window, and you saw outside that the sun was well up in the sky, and yet, you didn’t have a worry in the world.

You got out of the bed with the blanket wrapped around your body, and on the nightstand, you noticed a tray with a piece of bread, a glass of juice, and a tiny vase with a single red rose on it. You grinned brightly and felt your cheeks getting hot, and you reached for the little parchment that rested beside the plate of bread, smiling as you read the fine calligraphy.

Have a beautiful day. See you tonight.

You lay on the bed again, smiling with a dreamy sigh and holding the parchment in your hand as you let your mind wonder what you’d do with your newfound time and freedom until the night came and you could see your lover again.

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging to support me ❤️

Back to my masterlist

#moonstrider writes #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #grand admiral thrawn #star wars rebels fanfic #star wars smut #grand admiral thrawn x reader #grand admiral thrawn x you #rebels thrawn #star wars rebels thrawn #swr thrawn #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars rebels smut

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never-ending-fanfic · 5 months

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Angel!Kallus AU

In this au, Kallus is an "angel"- Aripian, from the Wild Space, hiding his true self from everyone, but needs to use his wings on Bahryn to get him and Zeb to safety

Aripians have bird wings and can hide them in amulets with the usage of a spell- Kallus hides his in his necklace, which you can see him wearing above

I went all in on the detail with this one, discovered a bunch of new things on the art app and managed to inspire myself to write the 2nd chapter, so that was a winner

If anyone's interested how the shirt works, here's the explanation

The brown spots represent where the wings grow and the shirt is simply cut there, the piece in between can be tucked in like ghe rest or left hanging out

I'm gonna post more art like that the more story I write for that au

#star wars #alexsandr kallus #star wars rebels #kallus #agent kallus #garazeb orrelios #zeb orrelios #star wars fanfiction #swr #star wars au #star wars rebels au #star wars fanfic #star wars rebels fanfic #au #sw rebels

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solsilverpine · 12 days

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Hey everyone, I just realised I never ended up writing an actual post about this, but I wrote my first fan fic and I think its pretty neat!

It is, in its simplest form, a Kallus/Zeb beauty and the beast au. But it is also a lot more lol.

I mean, if you were disappointed when Beast transformed into an average dude at the end of the film, this fic is probably for you 💜🧡

Click here for chapter 2 or here for chapter one, if you haven't had a chance to read it yet.

All the art for this fic is done by the incredible @hayesflint who spent many hours giving me support and feedback and hugs over the past few months while we were working on this. 💜

Also massive thanks to @lost-in-derry and @sunatsubu for being such incredible beta readers. I know the chapters are big and I am so grateful you took the time to read it over and share your thoughts (and point out all my "then's" that should be "than's" 🧡)

This fic was part of a mini bang event on the kalluzeb discord @thehonorableones 💖

#kalluzeb #warrior and the lasat #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #alexandr kallus #garazeb orrelios #agent kallus #zeb orrelios #kalluzeb fanfic #star wars rebels fanfic #beauty and the beast au #ao3 writer #ao3 link #my wifes art #in the fic #star wars rebels

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daughterofthequeen · 9 months

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The Last Moments of Solace

Pairings: Ezra Bridger x reader

Request: I saw that your request are open and I was hoping that you could write an Ezra Bridger (season 4) x reader?? Maybe fluff and smutty?? Maybe reader can be also a Jedi of his age? For the plot…mhhh…maybe something based on episode 6 (season 4) or episode 17 (season 3)?

Warnings: Suggestive content cus I don’t write smut yet, yet, fluff, kissing, groans, moans, the overuse of comma’s

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write lately, and I’m so excited to start. And this request just reopened my Ezra hyper-fixation. And I’ve been wanting to write my first series too, I just haven’t figure out which one of the characters I’m currently invested in, to do it on first. You just made the choice harder Anon, you’re no help😫!!! (nahhh I’m just kidding I love you for this, I forgot how much I loved my first Star Wars crush🥰🧡) Ezra had 11 year old me giggling and kicking my feet every Monday night before I had to go to bed 🤭. So I chose episode 6 of season 4 but I couldn’t find a way how to incorporate the reader into the show that I liked so, it’s taking place in episode 7 so technically it’s still based on episode 6. This is my first time doing suggestive too btw and I’m very nervous so cut me some slack pleassse🧡

Y/N POV

How did we get here?!

This was only meant to be a recon mission. But no, Sabine just had to get the data recorder and the hyperdrive. Which is good use for the rebellion, but it still doesn’t stop me from wanting a easy day. Next thing I know there’s cats, Thrawn, a wolf, troopers, me and Ezra falling over crates, then us jumping into the newly designed TIE that Sabine hijacked. Which was a nice touch may I add. Well it was, until we found out it had a kill switch that we barley got out of alive. And that lead to us on top of a nice loth wolf, that only me and Ezra could remember since Sabine fainted and didn’t wake back up until we got back to the hideout. Yeah, it was a lot.

The Next Day

Currently me, Ezra, Zeb, and Jai were collecting the hyperdrive, well trying to anyway we couldn’t find where we left it.

“Hurry up.” Ezra told Zeb after he lifted up his mask to his scout trooper uniform. Identical to the ones Jai and I were wearing.

“Where’s the hyperdrive?” Zeb asked looking around the rocks.

“Over here somewhere.” Ezra replied. “Jai keep watch.”

“Over here somewhere? All these rocks look the same!” Zeb whispered frustratedly

“It was dark and we just crashed, we didn’t have time to make a map!” I whispered just as frustrated, sassily putting my hand on my hip. Suddenly we heard the meowing of a white loth cat, like the one from last night sitting on top of a rock.

“Hey, when in doubt follow the loth-cat.” Ezra said while smirking, causing me to lightly chuckle.

“You’re kidding right?” Zeb asked hesitantly as we walked towards it. “You and your loth-cats.” Zeb told Ezra as they moved the rock revealing the hyperdrive. As they started moving the hyperdrive, a small empire ship flew over us towards the crash sight, and I got a strong feeling that we had to hurry, to speed up the pace I grabbed a hold of the back of the hyperdrive to help them move it onto the trailer.

“Uh, Ezra, we have to problem.” Jai called while he was looking into his binoculars.

“What is that?” I asked while walking up beside Jai.

“I don’t know, and I don’t think I want to know.” Jai responded.

Ezra turned to Zeb. “We’ll draw them away, you get the hyperdrive out of here.” He said as me, him, and Jai, closed our helmets and started walking towards the weird bounty hunter looking guy who was using all four of his limbs to run.

“Just let me blast it.” Jai said anxiously, on the left side of Ezra while I was on the right.

“It’s ok, I can get us out of this.” Ezra said in an unsure tone.

“You don’t sound too confident about that blue.” I said also feeling his unease.

Ezra let out a breathily chuckle at the nostalgic nickname that he remembers you giving him back when you both first met.

“Yeah well, I know you have my back no matter what.” He said. Hearing his smirk under his helmet, I can’t help but smirk too.

“No doubt.” He has no idea how right he is, I would do anything for him. But our small moment was cut short when the assassin made it to us, sniffing?

“LS-3226, LS-3227, and LS-3228, reporting. We’ve checked out this area and found nothing. Should we continue our search?” Ezra once again sounds unsure, but this time it’s understandable given this guy is up close sniffing his armor. Jai slowly raises his blaster, ready to shoot but I try to discreetly raise my hand to tell him to wait so, he wouldn’t blow our cover.

“No.” Is all the bounty hunter said before turning the opposite direction then quickly turning back around swinging at Ezra to catch him off guard, but Ezra was able to dodge and punch him instead until the hunter was able to trap Ezra with his legs, and that’s when me and Jai let loose with our blasters. Though the hunter was extremely fast as he dodged and our stray bullets were landing all around Ezra.

“Don’t shoot me, shoot him! Blast it!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying!” “What do you think we’re trying to do blue?!” I yelled back and the hunter was quickly running towards us and quickly dodging our shots so, I lifted up my helmet and force pushed him into a boulder as soon as he made a jump for Jai.

“Jedi.” The bounty hunter stated as Governor Pryce made it use and recognized or faces immediately.

“It’s Bridger and (L/n), blast them!” Pryce ordered.

As shots were coming towards us, me and Ezra took out our lightsabers and started blocking blast. Then the three of us jumped on our speeders.

“How many of them are back there?” Ezra asked then I turned around to check. “More than enough! Let’s try to loose them in there” I replied pointing to the sea of rocks, as I seen the bounty hunter coming towards us with a disrupter and I quickly took out my lightsaber and blocked him.

“Can’t this thing go faster?” I said already tired of this assassin guy.

“Hold him there. Just hold him there!” I looked to see why, just in time to see Jai in front of us going in between two rocks and understood Ezra’s idea. The hunter caught on and turned off from us to keep from crashing. That’s when the troopers behind started firing, but Ezra was able to dodge them. I seen a overhead we were speeding towards and took out a bomb and threw it. Causing the large rock to explode and block the troopers. But the hunter was moving to fast to stop so he sped up making it over the piles of rocks and I took my shot hitting the speeders engine causing it to explode and the assassin jumped off just in time to grasp onto a rock before he could fall, and glared at us. I smirked, then looked forward to see Ezra do his signature two-fingered salute and we sped off to the campsite.

We made it back skidding to a stop and seen Kanan walking towards us. “Good job, looks like our hyperdrive problem is solved.” Kanan said as we got off the speeders.

“Yeeeah well, you know how one problem usually leads to another?” Ezra asked Kanan

“Yeeah?” Kanan question in an annoyed tone knowing where Ezra was going with that question.

“We have another, and its small, creepy, and very dangerous!” I explained dramatically as we started walking towards everyone else.

————————————————————

Jai, Ezra, and I went to change back into our regular clothes, while everyone else was discussing the plan. Just as I was finished fixing my shirt, I felt two arms wrap around me and a nice sensation on my neck. I smiled knowing it was Ezra due to the affection and me sensing him as he was walking towards me. I sighed in relief, finally able to let my muscles release their tension even if it’s only for a minute. I closed my eyes and rested all of my weight into him taking a deep breath, lazily looking over my shoulder as he moved up from kissing my neck to my cheek. I giggled lightly and turned my body slightly to meet my lips with his and the deep soft groan he let out drove me crazy. I ran my fingers through his short soft hair, causing him to groan again, this time a lot stronger, precisely why I did it. I moved my hands down to rest them on top of his, that had started massaging my hips bringing out a soft moan from me. I released his lips and opened my eyes to see his lips chasing after mine to reconnect them. I leaned back still trying to catch my breath, but eventually I gave back in as he knew I would.

“You okay?” He asked while our lips were still pressed together continuously trying claim each others, I almost didn’t hear him.

“Mhm.” Is all I could reply back, but I knew better, when it came to my well-being mumbled answers are never accepted, especially after a mission but with his soft lips intertwined with mine I couldn’t focus. He pulled away causing me to whine and turn around completely wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him back down to me, but he wasn’t having it.

“(Y/n)” was all he said, I opened my eyes and responded back with a sigh.

“I’m fine, Ezra.” He frowned as if he didn’t believe me. “I promise.” I reassured him bringing my hands up to his face gently rubbing the permanent scar on his left cheek. He sighed and leaned into my touch, then leaned back down to capture my lips again. His hands started moving under my shirt, thumbs starting to rub my stomach. Enjoying the sensational buzz it was bringing me, I reached down to the waist of his pants to start unbuttoning them, until we heard someone clearing their throat and we jumped apart from each other. It was Hera. A strong heat immediately went to my cheeks, as I hurriedly fixed my shirt and smiled like everything was normal, awkwardly seeing Ezra out the corner of my eye quickly rebutting and zipping his pants back up before quickly turning around with the same smile.

“Hera! Heyyyy! What’s up?!” I say trying to act casual, but that was way out the window. I could tell with her with the way she was standing. Arms crossed with her hip poking out to the side with a small smirk on her face. I looked up at Ezra to see him turning red as he looked up somewhere over Hera that I couldn’t pinpoint.

“I came to check on you guys, and to see if you wanted to see how Sabine was coming along with the hyperdrive, but I can see you two are already preoccupied.” Hera stated

“Oh no, we weren’t doing anything important, come on let’s go.” I said trying to move pass the awkward moment missing the way Ezra head swung to me with a offended frown on his face.

We made it to the ship Sabine was working on. “How’s it going?” Hera called out.

“Well it wasn’t easy but I got it patched in. Still I give it a 50/50 chance of working.” Sabine explained.

“I’ll have to live with 50/50.” Hera responded back, when I felt Ezra’s dread and turned towards him and seen what he was looking at.

“Oh no.” He whispered. “We’re out of time!”

We quickly finished packing up a speeder-car with the supplies to send with Jai, to our allies.

“We’ll hold off the Empire until you’re clear, we’ll signal rendezvous coordinates later.” Ryder tells Jai

“And if we don’t hear from you?” Jai asked worriedly

“You will.” Ezra reassured him.

“Alright Bridger, good luck.” Jai said then sped off.

We all got ready to defend Hera for her take off, lining up behind some empty crates. I looked over to Sabine after seeing her move out the corner of my eye, seeing her looking at something behind us. I turned to see Hera and Kanan kissing. I smirked still a little shocked. “It’s about time.” I said as we all got ready to defend ourselves.

“We won’t stand long against those tanks.” Zeb stated

“We have that transport and a bike.” Ryder explained until the transport was blown up.

“How many can we get on a bike?” Zeb asked and I playfully rolled my eyes at the question. Until I hear a wolf howling and felt Ezra nudge my arm.

“There! That’s our way out.” He told everyone as continued to stare at the wolf that helped us last night.

“Loth-wolves?” Ryder questioned

“Look they helped us before, we should follow them.” Ezra told Ryder still a little unsure.

“Are you serious?”

“Do you know the way out?!” Ezra asked the wolf who immediately started running in a opposite direction after his question.

“Come on.” Ezra said grabbing my wrist and running to catch up with the wolves.

“Kanan?” Sabine asked worriedly.

“Seems like the best idea we got, let’s go.” He replied breathlessly

“This is good, when it gets strange like this, it’s a good thing.” Zeb reassured Ryder.

“How have you people stayed alive so long?!” Ryder yelled following everyone else.

We all were running after the wolves. Well Ezra was, we were following him.

“Ezra wait up!” Zeb called out which he ignored

“Ezra!” Sabine yelled this time.

“I don’t want to lose them, come on!” Ezra finally replied starting to run after them again, but stopped suddenly seeing the wolves all laying down, lowly growling as everyone else caught up.

“Hold it, stay back.” Ezra warned

“Why have they stopped?” Kanan asked

“I don’t know.” Ezra replied as he started walking towards the white wolf who seemed to be the leader of the three.

“Ezra, wait!” I whispered trying to reach for him but he dodged me.

He walked up to the white wolf slightly crouched and carefully talking to it.

“There is a way out of here, isn’t there?”

“You wanted us to follow you, didn’t you?”

“What are you waiting for?” All these questions Ezra was asking and the only reply the wolf gave was looking up at Kanan. Which made me uncomfortable.

“Kanan? Kanan it’s looking-”

“-At me I know.” He cut Ezra off and walked up to the white wolf. “What does it want?” He asked, that’s when the wolves got up and walked into a cave.

“I guess they were waiting for you.” I said as I walked up to them.

We all walked down into the cave, Sabine turned on her flag light looking at cave drawings.

“There are images here of people, people following a wolf.”

“I guess we’re not the first ones.” Zeb said

“Hold on. Shut your light off.” Ezra told Sabine. We were in complete darkness all we could see was the wolves eyes and listening to the wolves still lowly growling.

“What now, Ezra?” Kanan asked

“I’m not sure.”

“There wasn’t a picture of wolves eating those people was there?” Zeb whispered to Sabine.

All of a sudden the cave started shaking, dust and rocks falling, proving the cave wasn’t going to last long. The wolves looked up growling louder.

“The Empire’s bombing the mountains.” Ryder stated

“We’ve gotta get out of here!” Ezra stated turning seeing the white wolf tail in his face, and looking up to see the wolf nod.

“Everyone join hands.” Grabbing a hold of the wolf tail.

“Ezra?” I said unsure.

“Just do it!”

“The cave is going to collapse.” Zeb stated.

“There’s no way out of here.” Ryder said

“That we know of.” Kanan said trying to reassure everyone.

As we walked deeper into the cave a bright blue glowing light started to appear similar to hyperspace when we walked into it. Next thing I know, we’re all waking up in a cave, but it’s a totally different one.

“Where in blazes are we?” Zeb asked shocked

“Let’s find out.” Ezra said walking outside, the rest of us following.

Sabine came up with a data pad. “Uh, you’re not going to believe this. We were in the northern hemisphere, now we’re in the southern hemisphere. Somehow we’ve moved halfway across the planet.”

“Huh.” I said seeing the wolves go back into the cave with Kanan, so me and Ezra followed.

“Kanan?” I called out making sure he was ok.

“Look around, tell me what you guys see.” Kanan told us.

“This place reminds me of the Jedi temple here on Lothal.” Ezra stated as I walked to the pictures on the walls.

“The walls are telling a story. There are people coming down from the sky, I think they might be Jedi.” I told Kanan.

“There’s a message here for us.” Kanan said.

“What, because we’re Jedi?” I asked confused.

“Dume.” The wolf said.

“What does that mean? The wolf said it before.” Ezra asked.

Kanan took off his mask, shock on his face.

“Dume is my name. Caleb Dume is the name I was born with.” Kanan told us placing his hand in the wolf’s head.

“How does the wolf know that?” I asked even more confused than before.

“It has a deep connection to the force, to the energy of this planet.”

“Don’t all living things?” Ezra asked.

“This is different. More focused. Like it has a purpose.”

“And we’re apart of it?” I said starting understand in a way.

“I’m getting the feeling building the TIE defender isn’t the worst thing the Empire is doing here. There’s something else, something more sinister.” Kanan stated worriedly.

“Dume.” The wolf said while backing up into the shadow disappearing. And as the sunlight made its way further into the cave revealing that nothing was there but a wall with a picture on it, and a crack through the middle of it.

“So? All the paths are coming together, right?” Era asked

“Yeah, I’m just not sure if we’re going to like where they lead.”

“Do we ever?” I said sarcastically causing Kanan to scoff in amusement .

“No and yes.”

“I wonder if Hera made it.” Ezra said worriedly causing me to wonder as well.

“I know she did.” Kanan reassured us, he then placed his hands on our shoulders and walked outside with everyone else, and we followed.

————————————————————

A/N:

Sorry this took me so long anon. I wasn’t sure if I liked this or not. I’ve edited this too many times, but you’ve waited long enough. Just let me if you like it and if not, I’ll try to edit it to how you like. Thank you for requesting anon! I hope enjoy!

#star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars #ezra bridger x reader #star wars rebels fanfic #ezra bridger #star wars rebels

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rebels-gone-wild · 11 months

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Thrawn is heir to the empire, thus making him a Disney prince.

Here are some lyrics a friend of mine made in response to this revelation:

No one flies like our Thrawn

No one spies like our Thrawn,

No one tortures and kills the good guys like our Thrawn!

He's a better bad guy than so many,

Mostly because he's not done.

You can watch Rebels seasons all spanning,

But soon there'll be another ooooooooone...

(Expect updates this weekend)

#thrawn #hera syndulla #thrawnera #grand admiral thrawn #star wars fanfiction #star wars rebels fanfic #starwars fanfiction #star wars rebels

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swordbladeknight7 · 18 days

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Epilogue to “What Happens on Base” Kalluzeb fic (E)

#kalluzeb #star wars rebels #sw rebels #Lira San &Beyond #garazeb orrelios #alexsandr kallus #star wars fanart #kallus x zeb #star wars #zeb x kallus #ao3 #star wars fanfiction #star wars rebels fanfic #lira san #domestic fluff

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incorrectpizza · 7 months

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Hehehe know how I said literally 72 hours ago that I wouldn't be posting anything for @sabezraweek because of my concussion and general life chaos?

Fic also available under the cut for anyone who would prefer to read here on Tumblr. :)

Ezra’s cleaning up the tower when he finds the holoprojector.

He’s halfway through a drawer of seemingly sentimental junk - an old comm of his, one of Ursa’s hair clips, Sabine’s own paint sprayer - when he spies a puck he doesn’t recognize. Curious, he flicks it on

He’s greeted by a younger Sabine, not much older than when he’d left. Her hair is the same dull dark purple as when he’d left with Thrawn all those years ago. It’s a bit longer though. Sabine sighs and runs a hand through it.

“So, it’s been a while since I’ve dyed my hair. I haven’t been able to since- since you and Kanan. But, well, things go on. I hoped you would be back by now but still no leads. So, I decided today would be the day.” Holo-Sabine holds up a can, shaking it. Then the image flickers and she returns with flaming pink hair. “Not bad for my first dye job in a year.”

Ezra’s eyebrows scrunch A year ? Sabine Wren, Mandalorian artist extraordinaire who dyed her hair at least once every six months, if not more, had been so out of sorts she hadn’t dyed her hair for a year ?

In their brief reunion, he’d gotten the sense she’d missed him a lot. But not dying her hair?

Before his brain could come to any dramatic conclusions, the hologram glitched, faded, and returned. Sabine’s hair, a solid, shimmering lilac shifts into a gradient, the tips darkening to indigo. She tilts her head and spins to show all the angles before disappearing.

Holo-Sabine reappears with a full head of indigo holding a hair tie, a single odd lilac strand hanging down. A padawan braid?

“So, it’s been two years.”

She gathers her hair together as she speaks, knot nearly reaching the nape of her neck.

“I decided after the last dye job to let it grow out a bit. What do you think?”

Holo-Sabine smiles, but the expression is hollow.

“So much has happened. Hopefully you’ll be able to come see yourself soon.”

The image fades and for a few seconds there’s nothing before Indigo Sabine reappears.

“I’m going to try something new. I’ve never done any sort of red hair because I dyed Tristan’s red once and he looked hideous. It doesn’t mesh well with the Wren complexion, but I’m feeling creative and I think this shade might be just the ticket.”

She pulls out a box of chestnut dye and sits it directly in front of the holoprojector.

When she pulls it away, her hair is an odd shade of red slightly akin to the sky on Atollon.

“That was a very bad mistake.” She shakes her hair out of the ponytail.

“Unfortunately, I can’t fix it for at least a week, and there’s a big banquet coming up soon.”

A static image displays next. Red brick haired Sabine in a floor length gown unlike anything Ezra had ever seen her wear.

A meow from Murley alerts him to the fact his jaw is no longer aligned with the rest of his face. He clamps it shut, quickly, biting his lip in the process.

“Lesson learned.” A blissfully dark haired Sabine says. Hair the color of caf dangles past her chin, brushing against her shoulders, a few strands hitting her collarbone. “Worst two weeks of my life so far. I am never dying my hair anything close to red again."

The image shifts to Sabine sitting with a towel wrapped around her hair.

“I wish you were here.”

Sabine closes her eyes and yawns, leaning her head back against the back of the coach.

“Force, Ezra. I just don’t know what to do without you around sometimes. I don’t see much of Hera or Zeb these days, which doesn’t help. I’m not sure how much longer I can wait.

“I guess I have to, though. I can’t go anywhere or do anything until this dye is done. And there’s still so much to do here on Lothal.”

The hologram pauses and skips forward to Sabine unwrapping her freshly-dyed hair. It’s a damp teal blue fading into white.

The next image to appear is not Sabine, but Jacen. The little boy’s face takes up the entire span of the hologram, one lock of green hair brushing against the recorder for a moment before Sabine yanks him back.

“I told you to be careful, Jacen.” She scolds, teasingly, setting him on his lap.

“Do you want to tell your big brother what you did?”

“I helped Aunt ‘Bine dye her hair!” Jacen giggles, hands gathering some of her hair and tossing it in front of the projector. Her brilliant green hair. Then he scampers down to go find Murley.

“Don’t worry. It’s temporary,” Sabine laughs and tosses it around, too.

Her hair is blonde next - kriff , it looks so weird on her - and then purple again. She doesn’t say anything in these brief clips; Murley’s in the second one, playing with her padawan braid.

Then a Sabine with a purple and pink gradient comes into view.

“It’s been five years now.” She sighs, and Ezra can practically hear the weight she’s carrying. He has some idea what she was going to say next, from what first Sabine herself and then Hera had told him about what happened. It doesn’t make it any easier.

“The Empire’s gone. So that’s nice. Well, almost gone. A few stragglers but Hera and Zeb’s recruits will finish them off soon enough. And Jacen, if he has his way.” She smiles, slightly.

The fond expression quickly disappears and as she turns her head slightly Ezra notices her padawan braid is conspicuously absent.

“But the Empire struck one last blow. A retaliation against random worlds. Hera says one of the defectors called it Operation Cinder.

“They bombed Mandalore.”

“I haven’t heard anything from Krownest. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. But still, millions. I wasn’t- I couldn’t save them. My people.”

The transmission cut out and stayed quiet for several seconds.

Sabine reappears with jet black hair, pinned up in a bun with the Clan Wren clip Ezra found earlier.

“Krownest’s gone.” She sniffles, wipes her nose on the back of her orange shirt. “Mom. Dad. Tristan.”

“I wish you were here. I don’t know- I don’t know how you did it.”

Seven more hairstyles appear in rapid succession, solid pictures, flicks of hair. Black with pink tips. Black with green tips. Black with blonde tips. Brown, the color of her brother’s hair. Her natural color? Ezra wonders, absently. The same brown, but faded into pale pink. Then a whole head of pink, slightly darker. Pink into orange.

And then purple faded into white, the reverse of the dye job she’d done after Malachor. The one she’d let him pick, that day she forced him to snap out of his trance with Maul and be himself again, if only for a few hours. It’s braided up into a severe bun, almost like the one Ezra remembers her mother wearing all those ages ago.

This Sabine sits still in front of the camera for a few seconds, then speaks.

“Ten years.” She said. “What are you like now, Ezra? Have you changed your hair at all? Does the Chimaera have any razors or do you have a scraggly beard?” Ezra scratches his chin, fingers deep in his magnificent beard, and he scoffs slightly at Sabine’s lack of faith in his ability to grow facial hair.

“I miss you.”

Then she shakes her head, letting it out. Hair spills past her shoulders, past her elbows, almost to her waist. Ezra gasps. Murley opens one eye and looks over at him, annoyed.

Ezra doesn’t care.

He’s transfixed, wondering what it would have been like to run his fingers through Sabine's long hair, and how much she’d experimented with that much canvas.

He doesn’t have to wonder long.

Sabine appears again with hair dyed four different colors: Orange into yellow into pink into purple.

“Pretty cool, huh?” She asks. “I think it’s getting a little too long, though.”

She chops it off, live, on screen. She doesn’t say much - just a bit about how she misses even Chopper but doesn’t get to see any of the old crew often.

“I miss you the most, though.” She confesses. “Hera told me that maybe recording would help, and I think it has. But I’m ready to start looking for you. Really looking. Not just researching and waiting on Ahsoka or Hera to find a lead.”

She finishes with her hair still well past her shoulders.

“Not yet, though. I still have a piece of artwork to finish.”

One last Sabine pops up, with freshly dyed purple-pink-orange hair. “Almost done.” She says.

Then a much more familiar Sabine pops up - shortly cropped, dark purple hair. A bit of makeup. And armor.

“It’s time. Ahsoka found something, just after I finished my mural in Capital City. I can't wait to bring you home."

The holo goes still, fades, and Ezra's sure it's done.

He bends down to pet Murley and nearly falls over when Sabine's voice came back a solid thirty seconds later. He scrambles back to his feet, grabbing the counter to pull himself up. He found himself staring right into Holo-Sabine’s eyes.

“If you’re seeing this, I guess I’m not there to hit pause and I owe you an explanation.

“I knew you were counting on me, and I knew you needed to come home. There’s so much in the galaxy you need to catch up on. And you have a little brother to meet.” Sabine smiles, a hint of sorrow lacing her expression.

“But most of all, I needed you. Whatever it took. If I’m not here…I don’t have any regrets. I’m just glad you’re home.”

She pauses a moment, runs a hand through her too-short hair, lets out a shaky breath.

“Ni kar’taylir darasuum, Ezra Bridger.”

Ni kar’taylir darasuum ?

Ezra furrows his brow as he pulls out a datapad and types in the best approximation of Sabine’s words. Murley jumps up and meows, and Ezra pushes him aside gently to reveal the confirmation of the hunch he's had she held him on Peridea like she never wanted to let him go.

“I hold you in my heart forever,” literally.

Or, in plain Galactic Basic, “I love you.”

#star wars #star wars rebels #star wars rebels fanfic #sabezra #sabezra week #sabezraweek #sabezraweek2023 #sabezra week 2023 #i am the worst ever at titles #oops

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spectre-week · 2 months

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Spectre One: Caleb Dume/Kanan Jarrus

Kanan Jarrus, born Caleb Dume, was a Force-sensitive human male Jedi Knight who survived Order 66 during the Clone Wars. Living on thanks to the sacrifice of his Master, Depa Billaba, on Kaller, he met the smuggler Janus Kasmir, who taught him how to survive as a fugitive. Going into hiding, he forsook the Jedi ways for some time, swapping his blue-bladed lightsaber for a blaster. After working with the Twi'lek rebel operative Hera Syndulla during the Gorse Conflict, Jarrus decided to join her nascent rebel cell. -Wookieepedia

Prior to Star Wars Rebels, some of the tales you could tell about this spectre are from these eras:

Jedi Temple Era

Padawan Era

Janus Kasmir Era

On the Run Era

New Dawn Era

Early Spectre One Era (up until Spark of Rebellion)

At the end of these eras, Kanan is 28 years old. We have the most canon backstory for him of all of the Spectres, but there is still a lot of time and so much you could add to it. We can't wait to see what you come up with!

Need more suggestions? Have a question? Just Ask!

#kanan jarrus #tales of the spectres #spectre week #spectre week 2024 #star wars rebels #star wars rebels fan fic #star wars rebels fan fiction #star wars rebels fanart #star wars rebels fan art #star wars rebels fanfic

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cambion-companion · 1 year

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Intrigue and Insurgents Part II

Your discussion with the Zabrak insurgent makes you question your allegiances. Meeting with Senator Goru reveals Thrawn's ineptitude for politics. The two of you must work together to stop deadly machinations.

Words: 3,518

It had been relatively easy to crack the Zabrak woman; Sedaa is what she asked you to call her. Though by the tightening of her expression as she introduced herself, you could deduce she was lying. You winced inwardly, Thrawn was rubbing off on you.

At the thought of your Chiss companion you chanced a glance over your shoulder to where he was engaging two men dressed in lurid green clothing in conversation. They seemed quite taken by his appearance, green glasses and all, and you couldn't help but smirk a little.

It took you a little longer than you would've liked to gain information from Sedaa. She wasn't forthcoming at first...not until you posed as someone who sympathized with those plotting against the Empire. What she said next caught you off guard.

"The Empire forced me from my home." She said in a heavily accented voice, her yellow eyes narrowing at the unpleasant memories. "Razing my world for its natural resources, making it unlivable. We lived like slaves for many years. I was able to escape. But my family..." She trailed off and took a moment to collect herself. "My family was made an example of."

"Your heart sunk. You had been sheltered so far during your career in the Imperial Navy. This was the first time someone from the outside had told you what was happening. "You've climbed the ranks well enough by the looks of it." You hedged.

"I have taken advantage of the circumstances I found myself in." Sedaa agreed. "But my vengeance is never far from my mind." Her gaze flicked up to the clock tower atop which dined several important-looking people in familiar uniforms.

There it was. You hesitated a moment, wondering if you should push a little further. "Sounds like you have something planned."

Sedaa's eyes sharpened on your face, you felt the atmosphere shift. "I would suggest you leave this gala before the hands on the clock point together toward the stars." She moved to brush passed you, your nose filling with the smokey scent of her perfume. "Or stay. It matters little."

She seemed to melt into the crowd of colorfully dressed party-goers as she departed. You looked after her a moment before cutting your eyes across to where Thrawn had been before. He and the two men were gone. You cursed under your breath and began walking a little aimlessly while looking for where they'd gone to.

"Mistress Opaal, you seem to have lost your paramour." Your path was interrupted by the great mass of a man Senator Goru, a dribble of wine escaping his mouth to drip off his chin as he grinned and beckoned you closer.

You reluctantly approached, not wanting to anger the one person you might get more information out of. "You haven't seem him have you?" You widened your eyes, feigning an innocent and helpless expression.

Goru simpered just as you had wanted him to. "My dear, you are a pearl among sharks out here. Come with me to my table. Your elusive fiancée joined us already." He led the way through the crown, his sweaty hand grasping you uncomfortably by the upper arm. "I am shocked at the impropriety of Senator Rowaan not retrieving you before joining me to be frank. To leave a gem such as you alone for any amount of time is a faux pas."

You made a noise of assent, not bothering to object to Goru's remark, and half-agreeing with him. Thrawn should've known better....but you'd heard about how he was rather helpless in the face of political maneuvering, brilliant tactician as he seemed to be.

Senator Goru's table was lavish and large, quite like the man himself. Thrawn was standing on the edge of the large circular dance floor, seemingly observing the dancers swirling around to the light music. As you and Goru approached he turned, and his shoulders seemed to relax a little at the sight of you.

"Be careful misplacing such a lovely creature in the future, Senator Rowaan." Goru chastised, seemingly in good spirits as he gave you a genial push towards Thrawn.

Thrawn gave the Senator a rather stiff nod but had the good grace to clasp your elbow as you stumbled a little toward him. "Thank you for retrieving her."

You were tense, your eyes kept flicking to the large clock on the far wall. It was large and elaborate, much like everything else at this party, and you still seemed to have just over an hour before the hands met at the top signifying midnight.

Senator Goru was giving you and Thrawn an odd look as the two of you stood rather awkwardly beside each other, Thrawn's hand still light on your elbow.

His eyes narrowed as he gestured toward the dance floor. "Go on you two, I am not quite ready to entertain guests yet fascinating as you are." He sat heavily upon his chair and shooed you away with impatience. "It would do this old man some good to see a couple so in love as yourselves dancing beneath the stars."

The back of your neck prickled as you turned mechanically with Thrawn towards the crowd of dancers.

You took his hand, noticing how his whole arm tensed up. "You're going to have to try harder if you want our cover to remain in one piece." Your voice was heavy with annoyance, even as you tried to mask it.

Thrawn led you onto the dance floor and turned to face you, his other hand resting so lightly on your waist you barely felt it. Even with his eyes covered you could see his expression of grim annoyance. "I believe Senator Goru already suspects us."

You rolled your eyes slightly, your hand gripping Thrawn's as you began moving woodenly together in a sad excuse for dancing. "He certainly isn't buying our cover." You glanced to where Goru sat and saw him deep in conversation with none other than Sedaa. "We have bigger problems. Don't look now but he's talking to the Zabrak I spoke with earlier, she's definitely an insurgent." You told Thrawn the short version of what Sedaa had said to you. "So I suspect something is going to happen at midnight...when the two clock hands reach for the stars..."

"Interesting how Senator Goru suggested we 'dance beneath the stars'." Thrawn mused, seeming to take all this information in stride. "An odd turn of phrase, one would think." He paused. "Though perhaps that is simply an aspect of your language I have yet to learn?"

"No, no." You conceded, trying very hard to not look at Goru's table anymore. "You're right. It's too coincidental to be an accident." You winced as Thrawn tried guiding you left as you pulled towards the right. "I can't fathom how he could tell our cover is bogus. You could try to be a little more relaxed, you know."

"Correct me if I misstep, Captain, but I am almost certain it is up to the tallest dancer to lead. Which, in this case, is myself."

You grimaced, he was right of course. "Well at least you don't seem to be a complete lost cause."

Thrawn frowned slightly. "How do you mean?"

"This entire night you've been acting like I have a bad case of Wookiee-pox." You said a little more tersely than you'd intended. "Definitely not the best image of a newly betrothed couple. You behave like a military man, not a senator."

Thrawn's usually calm voice held a measure of exasperation now. "I admit this subterfuge approach would not have been my choice of action."

"Whose brilliant idea was it?"

He didn't answer, clearly he didn't know either.

You cleared your throat and leaned in closer to him while lowering your voice. "So, we have about an hour before Bantha fodder hits the proverbial fan. Do you have a plan?"

"Indeed." Thrawn nodded, leaning towards you in his turn. "A plan I've already set in motion."

You huffed an annoyed breath. "This isn't a competition, Thrawn."

"Isn't it?" Even through the green of his ridiculous glasses you could see the slight red glow of his eyes as you looked at each other, your noses almost touching at this point. "From the very beginning of this mission you have made it clear how you feel about me."

Your eyes narrowed, you didn't like the sudden swirling sensation in your chest at his proximity. "Have I?" You answered with your own question, you mouth suddenly very dry.

It look a few moments of this foreign tension between you two before you noticed you'd stopped moving altogether. You could feel Senator Goru's eyes boring a hole into your back along with several other onlookers.

Unexpectedly you felt the weight of Thrawn's hand on your lower back as he pulled you closer to him, his mouth at your ear. "Phase one begins at this moment. Are you willing to follow me?"

You had to blink back a sudden distracting haze from your mind at his warm breath on your neck. You chanced a glance at Goru who now wore an expression of more curiosity than suspicion. You ran your own hand up Thrawn's broad back. "I see you took my criticism to heart." You whispered back, leaning your chin on his shoulder.

"I'll admit my weakness in political shades of grey such as these." Thrawn murmured. "I am, however, a quick learner.""

"Clearly."

He pulled back only enough to stare down into your face and, for a wild moment, you thought he was going to kiss you. "Will you follow me?" He asked again.

You nodded and he took your hand again, leading you swiftly off the dance floor and out of Goru's line of sight.

Brisk fresh air washed over your face as Thrawn led the way through a small door at the side of the hall and onto a small balcony awash in silver moonlight. It was blissfully quiet when compared with the revelry from the gala and you closed your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to enjoy the silence as Thrawn closed the door behind you.

"Senator Goru is not a reliable contact." Thrawn was all business again, your skin felt cold as he dropped his grip on your hand and strode to the balcony railing.

"How did you reach that conclusion?" You followed him, your eyes sweeping across the sprawling cityscape before you turned to face him. "High Command gave us clear instructions to engage with Senator Goru about the insurgent activity."

Thrawn shook his head. "The men I spoke to confirmed Senator Goru has no fuel lines for insurgents to tamper with."

"He lied to us." You breathed, taking a moment to admire the absence of those awful green goggles Thrawn wore to hide his telltale Chiss eyes.

"He lied to us." Thrawn confirmed. He tilted his head at you slightly, an expression of curiosity creasing his features. "Is there something the matter, Captain?"

You'd been caught. Any modicum of emotion you felt was certain to be noticed by Thrawn. Your face flushed with embarrassment despite yourself, but you shook your head, annoyed at yourself. "I'm just happy you got rid of those glasses for a moment."

"They seem to give you personal affront." Thrawn's voice held humor now and a bit of confusion beneath it. "A subject we will need to revisit after the current threat is dealt with." He shifted gears like a professional pod-racer. "You said the Zabrak you spoke with alluded to midnight being the hour of their vengeance?"

You nodded, happy for the change of topic. "That's what she said."

"Ah." Thrawn seemed pleased. "The pieces fall together."

"Care to share with the class?" You raised your eyebrow and waited for him to explain.

Thrawn opened his mouth to speak just as the door leading to the secluded balcony burst open. "You aren't supposed to be out here!" You recognized Senator Goru's voice, strained with suppressed anger and suspicion.

As soon as the door opened, you acted, taking Thrawn's face in your hands and pulling him close while swiveling your positions so his back was facing the door. Your lips skimmed the side of Thrawn's face as you deftly took his glasses and replaced them on his face, satisfied by the fleeting look of surprise Thrawn gave you at your quick thinking. You pulled away from each other as though caught in an intimate embrace and Thrawn turned to face the Senator and his entourage while you feigned straightening your dress.

"My apologies, Senator." Thrawn smoothly bowed. "I was unaware this zone was off limits."

You grimaced internally at Thrawn's uniform choice of words and smoothly interjected yourself between the two men as Goru gave Thrawn a disbelieving once-over. "I apologize as well, it was my idea to find somewhere...more secluded." You batted your eyes at Goru. "You see, we've been disagreeing often of late and I wanted to go somewhere to...ease some tension."

Goru's face seemed to relax as he bought your story, his stern expression softening on your face. "Of course, I understand now." He chuckled a little unpleasantly. "And here I was thinking...well it's of little importance now. I'll leave you two to it, though don't take long. We still have matters to discuss."

Goru gestured for his guards to follow him back into the hall as he gave you and Thrawn one last lingering look.

When he was gone you let out the breath you'd been holding and turned to face your partner. "Well, that was close."

Thrawn gave you an appraising look. "I applaud your swift actions, however I fear they weren't enough to assuage the insurgent's suspicions."

You couldn't help but pout a little, your brow furrowing. "He seemed to buy it just fine."

"That is where you and I differ, Captain." Thrawn disagreed, striding to the balcony door and peering through for a moment. "By the nature of my species, I am able to see facial temperature differences in those I converse with." He continued speaking in a languid manner as you approached him and had a peek beyond the door as well. "Senator Goru's facial temperature is elevated beyond what I deem normal given the circumstances. He is stressed, alarmed even."

"Couldn't it be because of what he has planned for tonight?" You suggested hopefully. "Which, by the way, we still need to figure out."

"We have already been given all the clues we need, Captain." Thrawn said smoothly, finally looking down at you as he removed his glasses again and stowed them in his pocket. "Think about it." He prompted. "The insurgents want to restrict civilian casualties yet take as many Imperial lives as possible."

"But there aren't Imperials here tonight...aside from us..." You thought hard about what you'd seen and heard, unable to quite connect the dots.

"There are, in fact, several." Thrawn motioned you through the door and into the hallway surrounding the gala. It was secluded enough the two of you could move unnoticed. "Due to the clear threat of insurgent activity, where would they be?"

"Apart from the rest of the crowd, that much is obvious." You said, slowly following Thrawn as he skirted around the great hall, drawing nearer to the clock tower. You squinted at the tower. Yes, it was obvious now. There were people milling about at the top of the tall structure, and what looked to be troopers guarding them. Your steps faltered as realization struck. "They're going to blow up the clock tower, aren't they?"

"Not if we get there first." Thrawn's stride was long, and you jogged to keep pace.

"Shouldn't we warn them?" You suggested, panic rising despite your efforts to keep calm.

"We haven't the time."

"Regardless. They won't like you going over their heads like this." You glanced at the large clockface just before you and Thrawn entered the tower, indeed you only had several more minutes before the midnight hour. Thrawn stopped at the entrance and motioned you to go in first, his gaze fixed on something or someone over your shoulder.

"Stop them!" You heard someone shout from behind you.

You instinctively broke out into a run, Thrawn at your heels, sprinting up the stairs of the tower. You heard a massive crash behind you as Thrawn toppled an elaborate bookshelf to hopefully impede your pursuers for a precious few minutes.

At the very top of the clock tower there was a platform just behind the massive gears which turned the clock hands. With many wires and cannisters of what could only be some sort of gas, you saw an elaborate rough-made bomb of sorts, a singular red light blinking steadily as it marked each passing second.

Shouts and curses were heard from below as whoever pursued ran into the toppled bookcase.

"Here is where your area of expertise comes into play, Captain." Thrawn glanced from the explosive to you, slightly breathless. "I trust you know how to dismantle this contraption?"

"How did you...?" You shook your head, now wasn't the time. You knelt beside the heart of the bomb and began rummaging through the wires, looking for the right one as you'd been trained to do before joining the Empire. "Yes. This should be simple enough."

Simple it was. At least for a trained individual such as yourself. How Thrawn knew about your past you were keen to find out, given you survived this ordeal. With a click and mechanical whine the bomb powered down, just in time for several armed men to mount the last stairs, their weapons pointed directly at Thrawn as he moved smoothly to block you with his body.

You mimicked Thrawn's movements and raised your hands in surrender as Senator Goru moved passed his men and joined you on the platform, his face shining with perspiration. Sedaa was just behind him, her yellow eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of the dismantled bomb and your face. "I knew you were trouble."

You felt a twinge of guilt, an unfamiliar feeling. But Thrawn spoke before you got the chance to, drawing the attention off you. "It would be wise of you to surrender now, Senator."

"Me? Surrender?" Senator Goru seemed outraged. "You're the ones about to be executed by my men. You truly thought I bought into your little charade? Two Jawas could've put on a more convincing act."

The clock struck midnight, the sound of the chimes deafening, and despite your confidence you braced yourself.

"I know you are willing to give your lives for your cause." Thrawn continued after the chimes subsided. "That is why we didn't come alone tonight."

"We didn't?" You asked, suprised at this revelation.

"Indeed not, Captain." Thrawn confirmed just as the sound of more footsteps running up the stairs greeted your ears.

A squadron of troopers had arrived on the scene, easily outnumbering the insurgents and from there the standoff was over. It was an easy victory, and yet you couldn't feel the usual satisfaction of another successful mission as you watched Sedaa being roughly pushed back down the tower stairs. Her yellow eyes didn't leave your face, and you recalled all she had told you about what had happened to her and her family at the hands of the Empire.

"You look troubled." Thrawn approached you, glancing back at the bomb as troopers began dismantling the parts in earnest. He seemed to measure your expression and looked to where the Zabrak had disappeared moments before. "I imagine she divulged what prompted her to become an insurgent?" He asked gently.

You nodded, chewing on your bottom lip. "She did, and I didn't like what I heard."

"I imagine not." Thrawn agreed, but didn't push the topic further.

There was a moment of silence before you broke it. "You knew there would be a bomb."

"Yes." Thrawn confirmed, waiting for you to continue, his eyes on your face.

"You requested I accompany you on this mission, didn't you?"

"Yes." He said again.

"Unbelievable." You grunted, giving him a grudging smile.

"Is it?" He tilted his head, his voice holding a teasing edge.

"Not really." You laughed a little, looking over your shoulder at where the bomb had already been completely cleared away.

Thrawn held his arm out to you. "Come, we should get ready for our debriefing."

You hesitated to take his proffered elbow. "You know we don't have to pretend to be our aliases anymore."

Thrawn nodded a little pensively. "I know."

He didn't lower his arm, however, so you took it, feeling a little warm in the face. "I expect command won't be happy with us not following the proper protocol."

"I expect not." Thrawn guided you out of the tower and away from the milling crowd of curious onlookers.

The two of you had reached the far end of the room when the floor seemed to shake a moment, the only warning for what was to come. You felt Thrawn's arm reflexively wrap around your waist just before a massive explosion rocked the building, blowing you off your feet. You screamed, dust filled your lungs, and your vision went white. You were ripped from Thrawn's grip and your body was pushed through the air by a blast of heat. Something heavy hit the side of your head and you barely registered the pain of it before your world went dark.

#thrawn #thrawn fanfic #thrawn x reader #thrawn x oc #thrawn x y/n #thrawn x you #mitth'raw'nuruodo #grand admiral thrawn fic #grand admiral thrawn #star wars x reader #star wars rebels fanfic #chiss #thrawn drabble #thrawn fanfiction #chiss ascendancy #thrawn fic #thrawn oneshot #grand admiral thrawn x reader #mitthrawnuruodo

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never-ending-fanfic · 5 months

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Kallus and Tala

Because we really need more Dad!Kallus and his Lasat daughter

Here's the link to All My Love

This is a design for Tala, of course after changing her into new clothes. Let me tell you, drawing a Lasat kid is hard, I struggled, but a bit less than I thought I would, which was a nice surprise 💜 I just made her a teeny tiny ball of fur with lilac hair and pretty eyes

I wish I could hug her, she's turned out so kriffing cute, she's just a lil kitty 💜

I love her your honour

P.S. I promise, I thought I posted it already then I realised it's still in my drafts ugh... Anyway, you'll have a spam of All My Love art now 💛🧡❤️

#alexsandr kallus #kallus #agent kallus #star wars #star wars rebels #garazeb orrelios #zeb orrelios #star wars oc #star wars fanfiction #star wars rebels fanfic #star wars rebels oc #swr #sw rebels

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mymblesbuir · 5 months

Text

hush little baby

Fandom: Star Wars: Rebels

Rating: T | No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M | Words: 3,923 | Chapters: 1/1

Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios

Summary:

“Any idea what your fool husband was doing?” “No, he was just out for a walk, when he didn’t come home or answer a text comm I called and he didn’t answer that either. I’ve been following his boot prints. He was going along the path but then suddenly headed into the trees.” When Kallus doesn't return from his evening walk one night, Zeb ends up having to rope some local friends in for a quick rescue mission. It doesn't take long to find him, but there's a little surprise in store...

Tags: Lasat Characters, Original Child Character(s), Planet Lira San, Alien Flora & Fauna, Married Couple, Rescue, Accidental Baby Acquisition, (Temporarily), Minor Injuries, Hospitals, Happy Ending, Plans For The Future

My Kalluzeb Secret Holiday Exchange gift fic for @reginastellaris!

Enjoy 😁

#kalluzeb #star wars fic #rebels fanfiction #swr fic #star wars rebels fanfic #star wars rebels #star wars: rebels #swr #lira san #alexsandr kallus #garazeb orrelios #zeb orrelios #kallus #kallus x zeb #rebels #my fic

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ms-erin-kallus · 19 days

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No Grave Can Hold My Body Down

Chapter 17

AO3 link ~ https://archiveofourown.org/works/44541196/chapters/141874393

Why bother with this? She is just one less Imperial for the rebels to contend with.

That intrusive thought disappeared before it even finished as Kallus realized that he was one dead end away from ripping the Empire apart with his bare hands until he either found Rhoan, or ended any and everyone even remotely associated with both that day and the commodore.

Since his arrival on Lothal, all Kallus seemed to know was failure. One encounter after another, the Ghost and its crew evaded him with what seemed like an almost unnatural ally on their side. The laws of physics literally bent to their favor in front of his eyes and allowed them to escape from what should have been certain capture. It was at that moment he knew that he would never apprehend them.

With each defeat, he was left behind to look like the inept imbecile that he was beginning to feel that he really was. AWOL might have been the perfect cover to easily make her disappear, but with his skills, training, and resources he should have been able to find at least something.

It felt like she had simply been erased from existence.

Suspiciously, not a single ship left the dome the entire night before. The hangar captain in charge was telling the truth when he said that there had been no air traffic from late evening until early that morning. Even with the barrel of a blaster shoved down his throat, he made it more than obvious that the he didn’t know anything.

Though Kallus was slowly beginning to rectify who and what he had been, he knew for certain that he was already too corrupted for any hope of a complete transformation.

Concessions would always be made when he deemed necessary.

However, he realized that differentiating those necessities would prove a difficult task while he watched the trembling man fumble his way back to his feet from the floor where Kallus had shoved him. The lack of effort needed to coerce the traumatized officer as he threatened to scatter each of his children, by name, to different prison camps across the galaxy was almost second nature to him. It was a feeling of control and superiority that he previously relished, almost as if it was a necessity.

Reflexively and without realization, Alexsandr Kallus let the well practiced Imperial permanently ingrained into him do what it did best.

Assault was a minor offense. Granted, it was against another officer, but still, something didn’t add up. If anything, Kallus assumed Rhoan would simply be made an example of. Pryce had been off planet long enough for things to become more relaxed than she probably appreciated and punishing an officer was the perfect way to put everyone back in line. Except, that was hard to do if the defendant was nowhere to be found.

The comm next to him chirped and he grabbed it so fast he was surprised that it didn’t shatter in his hand.

‘I can’t find a single thing’ R3 wrote. ‘This doesn’t make sense, I hacked into every file in this dome and found nothing. They paused, ‘Sitringlato’s datapads and comms were suspiciously clean…like they had been wiped.’

Though a machine, Kallus could sense the dread in the droid’s words, “I’ve been going through every unconventional idea that I can think of,” he offered. Someone had to have seen something,” he responded as his head fell heavily into his free hand. The only plausible explanation he could come up with for as to why there was nothing to be found, was if things went as high up as he was afraid they had.

If so, there wouldn’t be much he could do. An ISB title could only get him so far.

‘I’m about to break into communications records, but I’m sure they were smarter than that.’

I know, Kallus thought because he too had been that careful in the past. “I’m going down to the public spaceport, maybe they took her off planet and used a civilian facility to cover their tracks.”

Silence.

‘If they took her off world we will never find her.’

I know.

About half an hour later, Kallus towered over a nervous spaceport supervisor that had been on vacation and returned at the worst time possible.

“I’m telling you,” she stuttered, “there is no record of anyone going out last night. There’s an orbital blockade right now. That means extensive paperwork for any and all traffic,” she paused before giving him the answer they both didn’t want to hear, “what you’re looking for just isn’t here.”

The woman visibly shook as Kallus glared down his nose at her, completely indifferent to the fact that she was a civilian and oblivious that the person he was fighting to overcome had again returned the instant he heard ‘I don’t know’.

He was tired of not knowing. He was tired of things being out of his control.

He was just tired.

“Then I want to speak to every single person that was within the facility last night. Now!” he growled. Time was quickly becoming an enemy, but he realized as he looked down at the distressed woman that mistakes were easily made with nervous, and thus, preoccupied minds.

“Yes, sir. It may take a little time to get everyone back here though,” she told him as she used the clipboard in her hands as a reason to look away from his unintentional scowl, “shift has already changed.”

Of course it has.

“Get them here promptly,” he said with as much patience as he could summon, “and comm me once they start coming in. I have another matter to tend to and won’t waste time here waiting.”

I can’t.

The detention block of the dome was as full as it usually was. No one ever bothered to notice droids unless something went wrong and they needed a scapegoat or some jerk needed to release some pent up aggression, so as usual, R3 simply rolled in to take a look around unimpeded.

Just as they dreaded, a thorough investigation of the main terminal at the level’s control panel yielded no results.

A series of beeps that Rhoan would’ve chastised them for rang down the hallway as they slammed their grasping arms against the paneling in frantic frustration.

An unnerving feeling that surged through their components from the moment they learned that she was gone steadily grew with every attempt that ended without the information that they desperately needed. R3 had seen the Empire make people disappear for less, but they had a feeling that this was different. It was personal and sinister, and the embarrassed commandant had something to do with it; they just knew it, and that terrified them.

And so, regardless of the main terminal’s lacking, every single console that sat to the side of their respective hold was scoured individually and meticulously using tactics not taught to them by the Empire. When that led to no result, R3 checked them again even though they knew what they would find.

Where is she?

They dared not ask anyone for anything, lest they garner unwanted attention. The last thing they needed was to stave off questions that didn’t pertain to her and only her.

R3 rolled back and stared at the lift at the end of the hallway, I’m not staying here without her.

“Hey, droid!” someone yelled from behind them, “let me out, why don’t ya?”

The little green machine turned and blinked at the twi’lek apathetically, “what are you in for?” they entertained.

“Does it matter?”

“Not really,” they answered before they turned and rolled to the lift.

“I’ll throw you in the incinerator myself if I get out of here!” the man yelled. “Fucking useless ass machine!”

“You mean useless ass free machine,” R3 beeped back as the lift doors opened and they boarded, headed for the workshop.

It was time to take a high risk chance.

Kallus used the time he spent waiting for the spaceport staff to arrive to look through the surveillance videos of the dome again. Sometimes he wondered if their lack of cameras in important places was as detrimental as he assumed.

It was.

Conveniently for whoever was covering their tracks, everything was gone. Imperial security blamed a rebel hack that caused a ‘catastrophic domewide outage’ that also somehow managed to last all night. The uneasiness that had crept into him from the moment he caught her outside of the base had exploded into full blown panic from the question, or worse, answer to, who would have that kind of authority and how did they get away with it so easily?

But mostly,

why?

There were outside servers where all recordings were kept for instances just like the one he was in. It was packaged as a ‘safeguard’, but in reality was just another way to cover up any and everything that needed to be.

Though he was ISB, even he didn’t have access to them.

Regardless, a favor was called in as he was finally forced to face the fact that whatever he was dealing with, it was much bigger than he was. The more time that went by the more confused he became, and the anxiety from it was physically manifesting itself deeper into the pit of his stomach as time went by.

“Agent,” a meek voice came from his side and jerked him from his thoughts. “The first has arrived. Where would you like to start?”

Kallus sighed uneasily because he already knew what he was going to find, he just dreaded having to come to terms with it fully.

“Find me somewhere quiet…and out of sight.”

As expected, no one saw anything unusual. If any of them were actually lying, they needed to be recruited because one person actually threw up from their fear. Again, he lost control and inadvertently slipped back into latent routine.

A handful of ships went out, but the documentation was meticulous and matched all corresponding surveillance videos,

unless she was smuggled out unchecked.

Bribery wasn’t an uncommon problem in the transportation industry. It was actually one of the most corrupt, and the possibility that someone ‘looked away’, and that he would find them in time, was a possibility that he clung to like a scared child to the safety of its mother.

By that point he was questioning everything, no matter how trivial or improbable. Nothing was going to slip by him.

Every ship’s manifest was handed over without question or hesitation and Kallus ordered each cargo load be thoroughly inspected and its results immediately relayed back to him upon its arrival under the threat of death.

Lasan was no secret, but it also wasn't exactly accurate; however, not many people knew that. Nor would they.

Reluctantly, Kallus was forced to pull himself away from his office where he had all but barricaded himself into, and the conversation he was in with R3, for a hangar where a ship waited to take him to a last minute, mandatory briefing with Thrawn and Pryce on the Chimera.

With a thousand thoughts running through his mind he didn’t notice the grating voice that yelled out his name from behind him. Instantly, a barely controllable rage made his veins burn with coursing fire.

“Agent Kallus,” the commodore called out again as he slowly sauntered toward him, “wait up.” The man smirked at a custodial droid that was quietly sweeping the floor in front of him before he suddenly pulled back and launched some sort of drink container that he had just finished straight at them as hard as he could.

The machine let out a series of loud, confused beeps when the bottle purposefully missed the basket attached to its front and instead hit them in the face with a hard, loud clank.

Sitringlato simply laughed as Kallus pushed past him. “You know-,” he started as he glowered straight back into the commodore’s amused eyes. It took everything in him to not add a bruise to the collection Rhoan had left behind when he picked the bottle up and faced him. “I see that your assailant has gone AWOL.” From what Kallus had learned of the commodore, he could easily use the man’s hubris against him. Just a subtle nudge and subliminal suggestion would be more than enough to get him to brag about anything he could use to find Rhoan.

Stringlato scoffed loudly, “Looks like she decided that running was her best option. She really has no idea how badly she fucked up. Stupid bitch.”

Kallus finally snapped.

Malicious intent flashed through his eyes and he knew the surprised commodore understood it as he suddenly stormed toward him.

Hands searched frantically behind him as the man stumbled, panicked from what he saw as an undoubtedly fatal threat until he found himself trapped against a wall.

“No, you don’t know how badly you just fucked up,” Kallus said down to him quietly before he smashed the bottom of the bottle he still held against the wall just above Sitringlato’s head. Pieces of the heavily reinforced glass exploded around them as the bottle easily shattered under the sheer force from with which it was viciously hit.

If it was going to take an Imperial to beat an Imperial, then that’s what was going to happen.

“You ca-“ the commodore started before Kallus slammed his fist into the wall on the opposite side of the man’s face hard enough that it left a permanent indentation.

On its impact, Kallus knew that he broke more than skin as, even through the immense volume of adrenaline that coursed through his veins, he felt an all too familiar burn as a small trail of blood fell from the gash in his damaged knuckle.

Beads of sweat quickly accumulated across the reddened skin of Sitringlato’s face as he realized that he was trapped between a fist planted firmly into the wall on one side of him and the broken end of the bottle held precariously at his throat on the opposite.

“I will only ask this once,” Kallus threatened down into the panicked face marred by an array of swollen, colorful contusions. “Where is she?”

Sitringlato yelped when Kallus pressed a sharp edge of the glass into the skin just above the major artery that pulsated rapidly in sync with his risen heart rate. “I don’t-“ he started before he felt it slowly permeate his skin. “I’m serious! I don’t know!”

Kallus menacingly began to turn the neck of the bottle so that its sharp point would also, “I don’t believe you,” he told him as he pushed his weapon further inward. “You know, it’s a common misconception that bleeding to death is a calm process,” he said as if their conversation was merely simple discourse. “You actually suffocate. No blood to pump,” Kallus paused as he watched the crimson line that disappeared down into the Imperial’s collar grow heavier, “no way for oxygen to circulate.”

Terror shot through the commodore’s eyes upon his new found knowledge and he instinctually tried to roll under Kallus’ arm to escape what he knew wouldn’t end well for him, but he didn’t get far.

“I don’t think so,” Kallus scoffed as his hand quickly left the wall and caught the man by his throat before he slammed him hard enough against the wall that it knocked the breath out of him. A yelp echoed down the empty corridor when he felt Kallus jab the broken end of the bottle into the side of his already battered face, hard. “I will give you one more chance.”

After a length of silence that Kallus deemed ‘too long’, but was in actuality a few seconds of hesitation, the pointed glass sliced easily through the softened skin of his injured eye.

“I wonder how much a bruise can bleed?” Kallus asked as he slowly looked from one side of his mangled face to the other. “I’ll start here,” he said more to himself than his victim as he dropped his free hand from the wall and grabbed the man’s chin violently.

“Okay! Okay!” Sitringlato shrieked, the cry muffled by the pressure on his throat, as Kallus carved deep enough into the man’s face he felt bone. “I’ll tell-“ he started before the man screamed loudly from what Kallus knew was a blinding, searing pain. If the man didn’t tell him what he wanted to know, truthfully, he would simply move to slice nerves until he did.

A door behind them whirred open and someone said something that Kallus couldn’t make out through the pounding in his ears. “This is ISB business, so unless you are also from the bureau, I advise you don’t make yourself a witness to this or it will be you next!”

The door quickly shut and the commodore used Kallus’ briefly unfocused attention to try another haphazard escape. It proved quickly a massive mistake on his part because he instead only managed to clumsily fall to his knees in front of an infuriated man that had finally reached his limit.

Terrified, Sitringlato scampered back against the wall and turned his bloodied face away as Kallus knelt in front of him. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered as he put his hands between them as some sort of useless shield.

“I’m not,” Kallus said coldly as he slapped the man’s hands away and grabbed his jaw to yank his face directly into his own. Wild eyes looked back at him, “this is for her,” he told him quietly as his free hand slipped behind the commodore’s head and grabbed a handful of hair.

A loud sound of snapping vertebrae filled Kallus’ ears with virulent delight when he quickly and efficiently jerked his hands in opposite directions. The murdered body slumped over onto the floor as Kallus stood and looked down to the handiwork at his feet in disgust.

“I’ve heard that this Thrawn guy is a real piece of work,” Sitringlato’s voice rang through Kallus’ ears.

Instantly, he was pulled back into the reality that he loathed returning to, “yeah,” was all he could manage to say as the vision of a dead body falling from his hands played out again in his mind.

In time.

“At least they finally got someone around here that can do their job,” the commodore smirked as the lift doors closed between the two of them.

Yeah, the airlock is too good for him, Kallus thought as he waited for it to come back.

“You’re late,” Pryce snapped as she buckled herself into a jump seat across from the commodore and settled in theatrically.

Kallus wasn’t in the mood for her antics and was genuinely afraid that he would snap if she kept it up. “Apologies, governor. I had to wait for the lifts,” he said as he cut a sharp, inconspicuous look to the man at his right.

“Perhaps you should’ve left sooner?” the commodore openly, bravely, and with remarkable stupidity mocked him, either oblivious to or unconcerned by the warning thrown at him.

Kallus took in a long breath and steeled himself before he sat down in the seat directly next to him and buckled in haughtily.

The other man turned and began, “there are open seats everywhere, why-“ but thought twice of it when Kallus pushed his face, seething with potential retaliation, straight into his.

As the shuttle began its slow ascent, Kallus whispered to him ominously.

“I’m going to kill you.”

Sitringlato scoffed, “is that-,” he began pompously before Kallus reached over, grabbed the belt to his harness and yanked it as hard as he could without notice from an always preoccupied Pryce.

“Safety first,” Kallus chastised the suddenly silent man sarcastically as he continued to pull until he knew the strap was tight enough to make it impossible for him to breathe easily.

There was no response other than a muffled cough and Kallus assumed that the commodore was finally beginning to realize that he was prodding someone whose rank fell outside of the military hierarchy and, thus, didn’t have to answer to him.

An arrogant smile briefly crossed Kallus’ face as he let images from the hallway play out again in his mind, but with ‘improvements’.

Luckily, the flight to the star destroyer was short and before Kallus could abandon his plans and make good on his threat to end the man where he sat, he found himself on the bridge of the Chimera in front of an oversized star chart.

“Admiral Konstantine should be with us momentarily, grand admiral,” Pryce said apologetically as she looked toward the door in almost disgust at his tardiness. It hadn’t been long since she arrived, but anyone with eyes could see that the two of them hated each other, vehemently.

“It’s quite alright, governor. I doubt that he would have much to offer,” Thrawn answered in a cool, smooth voice. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

Kallus couldn’t help but notice that, from the moment they arrived, Thrawn studied the commandant’s bruised face intently. Rhoan had really done a number on his eye, as even after two rotations and numerous trips to the medical facility later, it was still swollen and every shade of blue and purple. Kallus hoped that every time he looked in a mirror, he remembered how it felt when he slammed to the ground as she unleashed her torrent of unadulterated rage upon him.

“Commandant,” Thrawn suddenly interrupted. “I must ask, what happened to you?”

Sitringlato stood up a little straighter before he replied pathetically, “I was attacked viciously by a fellow officer, grand admiral.” The Imperial popped his tunic and lifted his chin as he delivered his accusation. “It was unprofessional and completely unwarranted.”

A loud, unintentional scoff escaped from Kallus before he could stop it.

“You have something to add, Agent Kallus?” Thrawn asked inquisitively. Red, glowing eyes burned into him like the summer rays of Tattooine’s dual suns.

Kallus cleared his throat and chose his words carefully, “the commandant is leaving out an important part of the story,” he barely managed to say without indicating the fury that grew exponentially with his words.

“Which is?” Thrawn continued, carefully studying Kallus’ every facial and emotional cue. It took every bit of the training he had to remain perfectly stoic in front of the intimidating alien’s inquisition.

“The captain was provoked,” he said simply in an effort to give away as little as possible unless absolutely necessary.

“I would hardly call it a provocation!” Stringlato almost screeched; his pride obviously mortally wounded.

Thrawn looked him up and down slowly and carefully before he turned back to Kallus, “do continue, agent.”

“The commandant made a very reprehensible remark, and it deeply offended and hurt the captain. She reacted in a way that, yes, was in poor judgment, but also could be seen as justifiable given the circumstance.”

“I see,” Thrawn said slowly, internalizing and reviewing the new information. “Tell me, what did you say that would warrant such an” he looked over his shoulder to his aide behind him who whispered something without an exchange, “antagonism?”

The commandant became visibly uncomfortable in an instant when he realized that his remark could only go one of two ways considering the instigation’s existence was a result of his inquisitor’s aftermath. “I, um,” he started before he cleared his throat. “I made a reference that the citizens aiding and abetting the insurgency on Batonn weren’t as ‘innocent’ as they seemingly presented themselves to be.”

It appeared that Kallus wasn’t the only one that was watching his wording carefully.

Thrawn was unnervingly silent as he looked down at the commandant. His blue face steeled and his body language rendered him immediately terse. It was only a few seconds but it felt like an eternity before he finally spoke, his voice was flat and monotone, “civilian casualties should always be kept at a minimum. The preservation of life is important if we are to keep the citizenry complacent and compliant. Wouldn’t you agree, governor?”

The color drained from her already pale complexion and Pryce stuttered as she answered, caught completely off guard, “of course, grand admiral.”

Thrawn cut his eyes toward her in a way that made Kallus shudder.

“Always,” she added with some sort of feigned agreement.

Picking up subtle cues in conversations was another part of Kallus’ extensive training. Those cues were not subtle. Their exchange was definitely a reminder, or even reprimand of some kind.

“And where is the captain now?” Thrawn asked inquisitively as he looked over to Pryce. “I am to assume that she has been detained for her crime?” he asked, assuming that she would’ve been the one to hand down, or at least approve the process.

“She has been sent to Kessel,” the commandant said proudly before Thrawn turned and showed just a brief second of surprise on his usually expressionless face.

Kallus couldn’t stop himself from turning toward Pryce, barely able to keep himself composed, “are you serious? For minor assault?” The words he spoke aloud sounded more like soft murmurs in his ears as his head began to swim at the very worst scenario he could think of.

“This seems quite unnecessary. Why such a harsh condemnation?” Thrawn asked, genuinely perplexed. The aid at his side stood with his mouth agape in shock and a look of disgusted confusion on his face.

Pryce stepped in, “we needed to make an example of her. If people know that extreme measures will be taken, then it should quell any further insubordination among the ranks. Consider it a,” she hesitated, “preemptive warning for the others.”

“That seems hardly pragmatic, Governor. I’ve learned that the most conducive crews are the ones that are respected and appreciated, not terrorized. Those very reasons are why mine have been an invaluable tool in the many successes that we have had for the Empire.”

Kallus could barely speak through the dryness in his throat, “if she was to be an example, why was her disappearance so thorough?”

“Do elaborate, agent?” Thrawn asked as he looked to him from the pair at his side that had visibly lost the confidence they had prior.

“The captain is listed as AWOL,” he informed them, barely able to hear himself, much less anyone else, speak. “I feel like it’s hard to make an example when the offender is nowhere to be found.” A sudden deafening roar in his head began to make the room spin, “her punishment will go unnoticed; thus negating its intention, will it not?”

Sitringlato cleared his throat loudly as he pulled nervously at the collar of his tunic.

“Pull yourself together,” Pryce spit at him quietly as she tried desperately to deflect the answer that she knew she wouldn’t be able to defend.

“I see that your answer is hard to swallow,” Thrawn’s aid snarked under his breath as he began to quickly scroll on his datapad.

“There’s nothing there,” Kallus warned before he realized that he had. “All of her records are gone, along with her.” Rationalize that quick, Kallus screamed at himself through clouded thoughts. It was hard enough to keep himself together without blowing his cover, “I was beginning to build a case, but there is absolutely no information on this supposed sentencing that has been handed down.” Kallus could’ve strangled Pryce where she stood, in front of them all and without hesitation, because of his next words, “without its proper trial.”

Suddenly, the commandant fell to the floor and clutched desperately at his throat as his face began to turn a dark shade of red.

Kallus struggled to breath harder than the man writhing on the floor at his feet as purple dots began to litter his field of vision.

You couldn’t even find her, how are you supposed to save her?

“Call for a medic, Commander Vanto,” Thrawn instructed almost apathetically.

“What is wrong with you?” Pryce asked dryly as Kallus dropped to the floor before he could black out and quietly hid that fact when he reached over to the commandant to unseal the top of his tunic.

“Can you breathe?” he asked as he shakily took his pulse. The man was in severe tachycardia.

“The medics are on their way,” Kallus heard Vanto say in a thick wild space accent as he studied the man suffocating on the floor but offered him no real assistance.

Kallus leaned down and made it look as if he was trying to listen to the man’s erratic breathing.

“I told you so,” was the last thing the commandant heard before Agent Kallus watched him die.

#star wars rebels #star wars #alexsandr kallus #agent kallus #hot kallus #kallus #rebel kallus #star wars rebels fanfic #grand admiral thrawn #eli vanto #kinda those two theyre at the end but its very books them

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autumnwoodsdreamer · 1 month

Text

Shadows Dancing on the Walls

Chapter Two: The Countess

Summary: Sabine’s morning, a kitchen incident, conversations, and much introspection

Rating: General

Words: 7520

Characters: Sabine Wren, Kanan Jarrus, Hera & Jacen Syndulla, Depa (OC), Chopper, Din & Grogu Djarin, Ezra Bridger

Relationships: Din & Ezra, Din & Grogu, Din/Sabine, Kanan/Hera

[Read on ao3]

I am a foreigner longing for a home that’s mine

But I don’t speak the language

And I can’t read the signs

No I can’t read the signs

. . . . .

The helmet on the floor gleamed in pure silver, every last trace of white and cadmium yellow abolished. The remains of the viewfinder stalk, the shards of the Y-visor, all the burnt-out and half-disintegrated innards—the electronics, wires, sensors, modulator, padding and lining—lay on a low table nearby, clustered close together as if rallying support from their bruised and battered kin.

The helmet stood alone, gutted and skinned.

Gone was the paint.

Gone was the carbon scoring.

Gone was every vestige of identity and history.

The only thing that could not be pulled out or washed off were the twin crests gently swooping up from the brow to adorn the crown.

Her mother told her the plumes were added to her helmet upon her coronation: a unique feature designed and bestowed upon her to announce her new station.

Sabine remembered the event; she had been just old enough to begin holding onto memories.

She remembered music. She remembered the beat of drums. She remembered unified voices. She remembered her mother’s dress: as silver as beskar, as sparkling and ethereal as Krownest’s first snow, as elegant as ever Sabine would see and never again.

She didn’t know if she remembered the ceremony so much or if the images scrolling through her mind were built from those fragments of memory and supplemented by secondhand descriptions from her elders. The facts were that someone respected in their clan returned her mother’s helmet to her, reforged and repainted, and the whole clan cheered.

The rest of her armour followed, though Ursa oversaw its forging personally and no great occasion accompanied the reception and addition of each piece. She melted down her cuisses and formed them into faulds. She softened the shape of her cuirass and reformatted her collar guards. And she stripped the mottled blue and grey scheme—the mark of her allegiance to Death Watch and the Nite Owls—and restored her Wren crest and colours.

Bright yellows, proud silvers and pure whites, molded into abstract feather designs.

She maintained those colours for the rest of her life, meticulously painting over every scratch and scuff of wear and tear.

She would have been mortified to see it as it had been when Hera presented it to Sabine, all scorched and scarred. For years, it had hung like a macabre trophy in Moff Gideon’s stateroom.

It’s good that it made its way back to you, Din had said and Sabine couldn’t argue with that because, yes, it was good; it wasn’t right for this beskar—for any beskar—to remain in the possession of those who hunted their people.

But it was so much more than just beskar.

It was a helmet.

It was the helmet of the Countess of Clan Wren.

It was her mother’s helmet.

For the last two or so hours, Sabine had been cleaning and stripping it bare and trying all the while to make peace with it, to accept it, grieve it, and let it be what it was.

An heirloom.

A crown.

A memory.

But her mind distracted her at every turn and she couldn’t entirely blame her haphazard, derailed thoughts on the fact she had decided to tackle this task in the dark pre-dawn hours.

She sat with her back to her unkempt bed and her knees tucked under her chin. Her back was tired of all this, of hunching and sitting on the tiled floor without support; her arms were cold where she had pushed her sleeves up to keep them out the way while working with the paint-stripper, and her head was stuck in that strange silent well of noise.

For months, she had avoided this task, even going so far as to purposely leave the helmet behind in the tower when they left for the Wild Space expedition. Now, carried by an insomniac whim, it was done.

It was done.

And she didn’t know what to do with the shell.

She could restore it—that was her first inclination.

She could melt it down into new armour—a noble rebirth.

She could leave it as it was.

Restoring it was the right thing to do but she couldn’t see much of a point in it—she had no intention of donning it; it would just end up adorning another wall.

Melting it down and reforging it would give it a new life, and it was within her rights to choose a transformed fate for it. But neither she nor Din needed any new armour, and while Grogu was a foundling, he hadn’t begun training yet—traditionally, a Mandalorian only received beskar upon commencement of their training and that didn’t start until they were well past infancy.

It seemed the helmet was destined to remain as it was, most likely headed for another noncommittal burial back in the tower

Sabine sighed.

She heard Kanan and Hera’s snores coming muffled down the hall and through her closed door. They were perfectly in sync, even in sleep.

She heard seabirds wake down on the shore and call out, only then noticing the sunrise pouring young, timid light between the slats of her blinds, tossing faint, growing embers on the helmet’s bare face.

She heard Depa’s little trills and babbles begin. It had been her wailing and screaming three hours earlier which woke Sabine in the first place but, as was custom, the terrors that plagued the little one at night had vanished with the sun and she was now, as she would be for most of the day, the world’s happiest, most agreeable baby.

That was it; the day began.

As Jacen’s door whooshed open and his light but unnecessarily rushed steps bolted down the hall, Sabine rose. She returned the helmet to its box for safekeeping while the refresher door opened and closed and the pipes clanged as water rushed through them.

After a beat, another door whooshed open and softer, more measured steps entered the hall, the weight and gait identifying Kanan. Depa’s bubbly but unintelligible chattering grew then faded, Kanan’s low, idle replies braiding with her little voice as the pair journeyed downstairs.

Sabine waited until she heard the pipes close and the drain settle before gathering her things and making to take her turn in the refresher.

Jacen raced past her in the hallway: still in pyjamas, green hair sticking up wild, eyes bright and alive. “Morning, Bean!” he chirped, but didn’t stop.

“Mornin’, Squishy,” Sabine returned, finding it impossible not to smile as he flew like a torpedo down the stairs, just a blur of bright colours.

She showered, dressed, and pinned her hair up in no great affair.

She emptied the bursting laundry hamper into a mesh bag, pulled the strings taut, hauled it out the refresher and sent it tumbling down the stairs ahead of her. It rolled, heavy and misshapen, and came to land wonkily on the tiles of the entrance hall, rolling to a drunken stop near the front door. She followed after it at a much more demure pace.

The downstairs hall held entrances to a study, a dining room, a smaller refresher, and then the conjoined kitchen and living room. The laundry was more or less a converted closet glued to the kitchen.

It wasn’t a big house but neither was it small; it was just the right size that the five of them (plus Chopper) strained but didn’t tear the seams. Sabine liked it that way—the Wren Stronghold on Krownest was a marvel of Mandalorian architecture but her small family got lost in the rooms and hallways, vast and copious as they were; and then, at the Imperial Academy, she and her classmates fit too perfectly, too precisely in the dorms and classrooms, filling space in the most hollow, perfunctory manner.

(Neither of those places existed today; not in anything but ruins and memories.)

Life in this house, though stationary and void of battle, was, in spirit, like life aboard the Ghost.

Jacen’s mile-a-minute chattering collided with the sound of cereal rattling in a bowl. Kanan’s contributions to the conversation—one word for every forty Jacen crammed in—carried softer and deeper, his tone still addled with sleep but warm and engaged, nonetheless. As Sabine retrieved the laundry bag and hefted it up, Jacen said something that brought out a rumble of a chuckle from his father.

She came through, the unmistakable smell of fish greeting her far too enthusiastically (it hadn’t yet become an aroma so familiar as to evade attention, even after two months’ worth of smelling the stuff daily).

Kanan stood at the counter, one arm employed holding Depa, his free hand busy stirring a bowl of heated fish paste, tendrils of steam flowing upwards and catching the sunrise flooding in through the windows dominating the wall facing the sea.

Jacen sat at the counter, filling (overfilling) his bowl with cereal, pouring in milk then struggling to stir the mass, little blue and brown ball-bearings escaping with every turn of the spoon.

Chopper was present, too, but still “asleep”—i.e. in standby mode, still docked in his charging station like a lazy Loth-cat.

“Hera sleeping in today?” Sabine asked.

“Rough night with the little one,” Kanan answered, his voice soft and somber as he hiked Depa up a notch on his hip.

“I’ll take her from you once I get this load started.”

Before Sabine slipped into the laundry room, she caught Kanan’s head shake. “Don’t worry; she’s fine.”

And she was.

She had a comfortable perch there in Kanan’s hold, her head resting on his shoulder, no doubt enjoying the lull of his heartbeat and the sound and feel of his voice. Sabine had memories of something similar: a much younger, much smaller version of herself held in her own father’s embrace, listening to once upon a time’s about their people and their traditions and their kings and soldiers and poets, all as lost as that embrace would one day be to her.

Depa twisted around as Sabine passed by, big black eyes locking on the bright pink mesh bag she carried.

“Nothing fun in here for you, Depa,” she told her.

“It’s just stinky clothes,” Jacen pitched in, scrunching his nose and putting silly emphasis on “stinky” to prompt a laugh from his little sister. When she offered one timid giggle, he repeated the word, exaggerating tone and expression until she was in a chuckling fit.

Sabine made quick work of starting the wash load, the routine mindless but satisfactory in its own way. As the water rushed to fill the machine and the smell of laundry soap permeated the air, she returned to the kitchen.

Like most houses dwelling along the water’s edge, this one touted an ample spread of glass along the side of the house facing the sea. Sunrise streamed in through the windows and sliding door, partially diffused through the curtains. Kanan hadn’t bothered to open them all; he didn’t need the light, so whatever had been opened had most likely been Jacen’s doing.

Sabine went to open the rest of the curtains, passing Chopper. He came online as she passed him, grumbling when she pulled back the curtains and brought the full golden rush of daylight into the space.

“It’s too early for this,” he moaned, unfurling his spindly arms and rubbing at his optics the way an organic being would rub the sleep out of their eyes—an absolutely unnecessary action for a droid. “Someone turn the sun off.”

“You don’t have to get up,” Sabine reminded him.

Chopper forced out a heavy, weary sigh that dragged his stout mechanical body down. “Too late for that.”

Sabine shook her head but let the droid be in his token misery.

“Air’s getting cold,” Kanan remarked, unseeing eyes flitting and blinking, face aimed towards the windows, painted in the mellow, warm sunlight while his one free hand scooped a spoonful of fish paste and brought it near Depa, leaving her to latch onto his hand and guide the spoon the rest of the way to her mouth.

Sabine hummed an idle agreement as she gazed out at the water, the surface changing colour to keep up with the sky. Subconsciously, she had her arms wrapped around her though the chill wasn’t all that unpleasant to her.

From their house, they had a panoramic view of the estuary, the eastern hills, and, to the north, the open sea and a bridge for speeders and pedestrians to cross from one shore to the other without having to go the long way through the city itself. Stepping outside and looking to the south, one would see the skyscraper skyline, but from inside the house, the city didn’t exist, just the water, the bridge, and the houses scattered over the hills.

Having lived on Lothal for over a decade—sporadically at times but still more often present than absent—the components that made up the view held no novelty to Sabine, but the angle, the perspective, and, to some degree, the situation had breathed rejuvenation into it.

There were also some new, unexplored things out there…

“Any visitors?” Kanan prompted, and Sabine didn’t have to turn around to see the crack of a smirk—she could hear it.

She breathed out a note of a laugh. “None today.”

“Good. They always tramp sand in and I just swept yesterday,” he grouched without any true bitterness.

Sabine’s gaze drifted and landed on the little dock bobbing in the middle of the estuary, seemingly unattached but securely, reliably anchored in place.

Din and Ezra’s little early morning ritual of jogging and swimming out to the dock together was endearing. Sabine was glad they had instituted it, even more glad that they had stuck to it.

The brothers long unknown to one another had struck their bond in a flash and a part of her had feared that something which started so easily, so quickly would not last—her strongest bonds with others had had tenuous beginnings, a fact she had misconstrued as a pattern to follow. But, as it had turned out, she needn’t have worried: as dissimilar as Din and Ezra were, they understood each other well, sometimes on a level that confounded everyone else.

Some mornings, she had woken early enough to spot them on the opposite shoreline; a good handful of times, they had covered the rest of the distance and come over.

Sabine couldn’t see them now, though she did scour the sea and the shore. There was no formality to the visits, no guarantee for their regularity, but still a part of her sank when she realized they wouldn’t be coming over today.

But like Kanan said, it was getting cold—they may have decided to let their routine hibernate.

“Uh, Dad?” Jacen piped up, a note of concern in his voice.

Sabine whipped around, musing banished and worry shooting high in the split second before she registered the situation.

Kanan had paused feeding Depa to fill the caf machine. He filled the tank with water and scooped spoonfuls of grounds into the machine.

Unfortunately, it was not only caf grounds going into the machine.

Three small bottles of spices floated in the air, wobbling as if held by an invisible, weak, unskilled hand. They tipped over and more spilled than sprinkled their vibrant contents into the tub of grounds.

Sabine’s gaze snapped to Depa.

She had her concentration trained on the spice bottles, one chubby little hand out to guide them like the conductor in an orchestra. She cooed, softly, contently, innocently, fascination and engagement bright in her glossy eyes.

“Depa, sweetie, can I have those?” Sabine asked, pitching her tone gentle and high, the way one just did with babies, and creeping closer with careful steps. Her first instinct was to gasp, her second was to tell her to stop, her third was to run over, but Sabine had lived long enough with Force-sensitives—one of which she had already gone through the tumultuous baby and toddler stage with—to know that startling them was just a plain bad idea.

She didn’t startle Depa.

But she did distract her.

And that was just as bad.

The moment Depa switched her gaze to Sabine, her control on the bottles fractured. In the same instant, Kanan clued in that something he couldn’t see was happening; just as he got the first syllable of a question out, the spice bottles dropped.

But they didn’t hit the floor or the counter.

They fell but then caught themselves, resuming their hovering just mere inches off the countertop. They hung there a moment, not wobbling at all, then they righted themselves and set down in a neat cluster.

Sabine breathed out in a rush and clapped a hand on Jacen’s shoulder. “Nice save,” she praised, her heart beating too fast.

“What’s going on?” Kanan asked, frowning deeply.

“Depa picked the spices up and was pouring them into the caf,” Jacen explained. “Didn’t you sense it, Dad?”

“No. I didn’t.” Kanan shook his head and then the frown melted away and he chuffed. “She’s sneaky,” he said, sounding impressed and proud.

Depa, for her part, just looked around and blinked, hairless brow pinched, not upset but not sure what was going on either.

Sabine came around the counter and surveyed the damage. Grainy powder of three different, distinct colours littered the area of the counter around the tub of caf grounds but the majority of the spices had made it to the grounds themselves, mixed in by Kanan’s oblivious scooping.

“I think this is my fault, actually,” she admitted as she inspected the spice bottles.

“How come?” Jacen asked.

“I made the caf yesterday. And, after I made everyone else’s, I made mine.”

“And you added spices,” Kanan concluded.

“I had Depa with me. And I showed her the different ones and let her try a pinch of ground sweet bark mixed with sugar.” Sabine held the pale brown spice bottle up and jiggled it to corroborate her story; Depa, being the shameless criminal that she apparently was, leaned over and reached for it, making a grabbing hand motion.

Kanan sighed. “How bad is it?” he asked, a bracing wince in his voice.

“Well… I won’t mind it, but you and Hera may not like it so much.”

“And we don’t have a new one?”

“That was the new one.”

Kanan shook his head again. “Depa, darling, I’m proud of you,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Your abilities and control are developing beautifully. But,” he held up a finger which would have come across more stern had she not squealed and grabbed it with her chubby hands, “messing with your dad’s caf—especially the first cup of the morning—is a capital offence.

“And Jacen?” He lifted his head to address the boy, his smile warming, his tone turning a little more serious. “Thank you. That really was a good save.”

The trip to the Azadis’ house was neither long nor complicated.

The most direct route was to cross the channel, but if one had no desire to get wet, they could carve a path along the lane to the main road, follow over the bridge, veer right down the first fork in the road and continue until they reached the house in the middle of the slanted street.

It was a quick drive; it was a much nicer walk.

Sabine set out at that point in the morning when the sun had climbed high enough to erase all shadow. It had found its energy at last and now shed so much warmth, the wintery warnings from the dawn hour were but an unbelievable memory.

Speeders whipped past in a truncated stream. It was the time of day when most people were already where they needed to be; the majority of the vehicles coming and going belonged to travelling professions: plumbers, repairmen, builders, cleaners, couriers—all those things that kept houses running, neighbourhoods spinning, and the world working like clockwork.

But there were others, too.

A powder pink speeder ambled along, fifteen notches slower than everyone else, a gaggle of chattering old ladies piled into the cab.

A bulky people-mover marched on down the road, a petite young woman at the wheel, two babies in padded seats in the row behind her.

A vehicle comprised of rust and flaking paint rattled along, a laid-back Xexto singing loudly with the radio, two arms casually resting out the window, one arm folded behind his head, one hand on the jury-rigged yoke.

It was nice to think she herself was one of them: just another citizen of Lothal—a long story, a lived life, but no greater and no lesser than her neighbour.

On the bridge, in the dips of the sounds of the passing speeders, the water below breathed and lapped. Seabirds nattered amongst themselves, their activity at a lull in this period between breakfast and lunch. As Sabine reached the street, a quiet embroidered with little scraps of ordinary noise from the houses fell over the scene.

Someone had a radio on.

Someone had friends over.

Someone had a very vocal Loth-cat.

And someone was talking.

She heard the deep but soft voice from a house over. Too far for words, it was like a mellow bass beat with calm strums on strings.

She came closer. At the point where she could hear him but not see him, she paused.

“It’s a retrofit. See? It wasn’t originally made with this part, and it can continue working without it, but it will work much better with it. So we’re adding it on. Retrofitting.”

A spluttering chitter replied, trying to mimic the polysyllabic word.

“Close enough,” Din said, a note of praise in the tossed out phrase, a shift in the volume of the tailend of the words painting him turning and walking a short way away.

Sabine continued her approach, not bothering to quieten the sound of her boots on the stone driveway.

Two green ears flicked up as a little head whipped around, so fast it seemed the little body clad in dungarees would go tumbling. But he remained where he was: sitting in the middle of a table coated in machine bits and pieces.

“Mah-ya!” he exclaimed, bright as the sun.

“Su’cuygar, ad’ika,” Sabine greeted him, a laugh threading through her voice.

Stationed in front of a bench set against the garage wall, Din raised and turned his head when Grogu spoke, the lines at the corner of his eyes drawing deeper when his gaze fell on her.

There was a smile but not a word, not immediately. His gaze shifted and something crossed his expression for a split second, there then gone in the same heartbeat, too subtle, too quick to be read.

Sabine came and set her satchel on a clear-ish spot on the table by Grogu. He glanced at it with an intrigued twitch of his ears but he didn’t touch it.

Though he and Depa seemed to be in the same life stage, they were parsecs apart when it came to maturity. Sabine had laughed the first time Din told her Grogu’s true age; while the idea of him being so much older than them both was a difficult concept to grasp, it was impossible to deny: there was a deep understanding in the little one’s gaze, a thoughtful measure to all his actions that only time and experience could install.

You couldn’t leave Depa sitting alone on a table—especially not one littered with nuts and bolts. The worst Grogu might do was play with things (if bored enough), but he knew better than to stick inedible items in his mouth and he was perfectly capable of climbing down himself.

And that was the thing: he could be somewhere else. He could leave, could wander back inside the house, find a toy, find a game, find someone unoccupied to entertain him. But he didn’t.

Where he was was where he wanted to be: by his father.

“Does he have you fetching spanners and holding lights for him again?” Sabine asked the kid, theatrically leaning down and cupping her hand around her mouth as if to keep the words between them.

Grogu giggled, picking up on her teasing tone. He pointed to Din, then he pinched his fingers together and tapped his temples as if something were coming out of his mind, then he pat his chest and motioned to something on the table near him, concerted chittering accompanying his signing.

“Oh, he’s teaching you, huh?” Sabine translated, scanning the table until she deciphered what looked like the guts of a very old speederbike engine strewn all over. (“Strewn” was a crude and ill-fitting adjective: Din’s set-up was achingly meticulous and neat, understandable and logical… but, much like the rest of his life, there was just so much going on that it looked, at first glance, like utter chaos).

“He’s a good student,” Din said, sounding just a tad defensive, as if she had somehow insinuated that his kid wasn’t smart enough to grasp the finer points of mechanical engineering.

“Yeah, but he weighs about as much as a meiloorun.” Sabine held her open hands out to Grogu; when he lifted his arms, she scooped him up and brought him in close so she could nuzzle him, forehead to forehead. “And he’s only fifty years old! Have a heart, buir.”

“Fifty-one.”

Sabine jerked her head up. “Pardon?”

Din shrugged, his attention aimed down as he rifled through a tray of bolts to find a match for the one already in his hand. He didn’t say anything right away but a little tick of his jaw assured he would, once he got the words together in his own mind.

“It’s… been about a year. Since I found him.” Another shrug and a tip of his head to his shoulder. “He was fifty then, so he should be fifty-one now.”

He said it in that soft but unadorned way of his, so easy to dismiss, so easy to read as indifferent and casual. But Sabine knew his true indifference and she knew when something meant so much more to him than he could put into words.

“Well, how about that,” Sabine said to Grogu. “A whole year of adventures together. I should’ve brought a cake.”

“What did you bring?” Ezra asked, appearing in the doorway linking the garage to the house.

“A gift.” Sabine nodded to her satchel in direction and permission.

“Ooh!” Ezra crooned, rubbing his hands together. “Sabine brought us a gift. Bet it’s gonna be so cool,” he mumble-sang and bobbed his head, his smile cracking into a grin when Grogu trilled along with the impromptu tune.

Din continued trying to find the bolt but his focus was not on the task. He twisted around, his hand searching the tray on autopilot while he watched Ezra open the satchel and pull out an item stowed without festivity in a plain brown flimsi bag.

He turfed the bag over and caught the contents, his curiosity and intrigue evaporating as a tub of caf grounds fell into his waiting hand.

“It’s caf,” he said, flatly.

“Yup.”

His eyes flicked up and locked on her with the most unimpressed expression. “This isn’t a gift, Sabine. This is groceries.”

“Ezra!” Din chided.

“It’s not even a full tub.” Ezra shook the caf, producing a fine rattling sound. “You gave us a half-finished tub?”

“Technically, it’s not half-finished. I have the rest at home.”

Ezra frowned. His blatant disappointment, she knew, was a joke, but his confusion was not. It was exactly the response she had hoped for, and she had had her fun, so she decided to let up and put him out of his puzzlement.

“Depa poured some spices into the caf this morning without Kanan noticing,” she explained. “It was either painstakingly try to remove the spices and salvage the caf, or just accept it, even out the ratios, and enjoy some interesting caf. It’s actually pretty good.”

“Thank you,” Din said, rushing to get it in before Ezra opened his mouth. He bowed his head in a nod. “That’s very kind of you to share.”

“Yeah. Thanks for giving us half of your spiked caf.”

“You don’t even drink caf,” Din reminded him.

“I do!”

“Three drops of caf under a cup of milk and honey doesn’t count.”

Ezra gasped dramatically and splayed a hand over his chest. “Oh, I’m sorry, I was not informed you had joined the ranks of the caf police. Do you make arrests as well, Officer Djarin?”

Din shook his head in a long-suffering manner and turned back to the tray as if to return to the task he had been distracted from, but Sabine caught his small smile.

“Alright, well, the kid and I will go put the groceries away,” Ezra declared, coming over to take Grogu from Sabine. “And you two can, I don’t know, discuss the weather or whatever it is you do when we’re out of earshot,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He retreated into the house, his voice fading as he chattered on: “Change in season makes for fascinating subject matter, though. You can talk about how cold it is for at least eight minutes if you get creative.”

Quiet ebbed in, the suggested conversation topic mutually ignored.

Din continued his work. He had finally found the bolts he had been searching for but he abandoned them on a spare patch of the counter, moving over to what looked like a toaster, upturned and half dismantled, parked on a stretch of counter deeper in the garage.

To the untrained eye, it looked like avoidance, but Sabine had learned the basic shades of him; he just needed a break, a bridge between one phase and another, a moment to shift gears. She had seen him stand in the thick of some of the most intense situations a man could face and not waver, she had seen him fight and fall and get up for the next round immediately, but when it came to these things—to conversation, to close, quiet, vulnerable moments with another person—uncertainty tainted everything he said and did.

“Your hair is up,” he remarked in a way not unlike how he said it had been a year since he found Grogu.

Self-consciously, Sabine touched the simple twisted bun as if confirming it was still there. “Yeah. It’s long enough for it now,” she said, her gaze flitting over the table, her mind cataloguing and naming nothing.

“It’s nice,” he said. “I like the, um…” he motioned to the back of his own head, roughly miming the action of fixing a bun in place with the accuracy of one who had never done any such thing.

“Clip,” Sabine supplied and added, without premeditation: “it was my mother’s.”

“Oh.” It was just a small word but his tone shifted drastically, from awkwardly trying to formulate a compliment to deeply sympathetic.

She reached back and undid the simple clasp, letting her hair escape. It only just reached her shoulders but it was the longest she had let it grow since she was a teenager—it was also the longest she had let it go without recolouring, her natural brown bleeding down through the violet in a way she didn’t dislike. She turned the clip over in her palm and when she held it out to show him, he left what he was doing without hesitation and came over.

“It’s beskar,” she told him as she gave it to him to look at more closely. He held it gingerly, as if it weren’t made of the most indestructible element known to the galaxy, tilting it delicately to let the light trace its feather design, outlined in yellow and grey. “My great-grandmother crafted it and it’s floated around since. My mother gave it to me before I left.”

She remembered the moment, clear and sharp.

The collected clans were gathering around Kryze, talk of better days filling the air. Sabine slipped away, quietly—with her duty fulfilled and her contribution complete, it was time to leave the picture and return to the family that still needed her.

But her silent, unseen exit was not to be.

Her family noticed and followed.

The preceding months hadn’t been the easiest, but they had finally laid their grievances to rest and rebuilt their bonds; their farewell this time carried far more emotion than her previous departure for the academy.

Her brother gave a bow of his head, told her she had done a great service to their people, but he glanced over her shoulder at the Kom’rk, the tilt of his chin and the hard flint in his eyes betraying his disagreement with her choice to leave.

(Ezra and Zeb would’ve teased her, then turned somber and sincere, finding something simple but profound and sweet to say before hugging her tight; even when they didn’t agree with her, they still believed in her.)

Her father embraced her, encouraged her to keep improving her art, and said he was proud of her without quite committing to saying it.

(Kanan did and said all that, too, but it was… different, coming from him. Warm, unreserved, humble—his praise came clumsily at times but never with the fear it would somehow depreciate his own works and accomplishments.)

And her mother. She had much to say; Sabine saw it all on her face. They understood each other then better than they ever had before; they knew they were mirror and reflection, thunder roar and echo, paint and painting, but still they stood on opposite sides of a great divide. She said little, but she made what she gave count when she slipped the clip out of her hair and handed it to Sabine.

(Hera would’ve said more, would’ve made it clear what she meant the gift to symbolize, not left Sabine to wonder eternally whether it was just a token, an heirloom, a mea culpa, or if it stood in the place of a more profound statement.)

“It’s the Wren crest,” she explained, presently.

Din frowned. “I thought the… the bird was your crest,” he said, gesturing vaguely to his chest where, on her cuirass, the starbird resided.

“The feather is the original. I would’ve inherited it but, when I left, I forfeited my claim to it and made my own.”

(If her mother just wanted to give her a parting gift, she could have given her anything. Why this? Why specifically this? Sabine’s hair at the time was chopped above her chin; she had no use for a hair clip. But it was beskar, it carried the Wren colours and their ancient crest, and it had belonged to so many in their family already. Did it mark her as accepted? Was it her mother’s way of reinstating her firstborn status?)

Din followed the curve of the barbs with the calloused pad of his thumb and gave a small nod, letting her know he heard her. “Are you going to keep it?” he asked as he handed it back to her. “The crest, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, gathering and twisting her hair back up, holding it with one hand while she retrieved the clip and then fixed it back in place. “There’s no one else to carry it now, so I probably should.”

(Somewhere in the middle of her answer, she realized it wasn’t merely the clip or the crest she was referring to. Had he asked about her mother’s helmet, she would’ve given the same answer.)

(But was it right? Was it fitting for her to carry these things on—the name and the crest of her family, the helmet of her mother, the remains of the entire Wren clan—when they had not been explicitly bequeathed to her?)

(Was it right to refuse when she was the last one they belonged to?)

She cut her answer there and left it before it split open and spilled things a bright day hour like this couldn’t accommodate.

The topic burned out, they fell silent.

But Din didn’t move away. He drifted back a small step, just enough to half-sit on the edge of the table, his posture open, his expression still engaged.

Sabine tensed up.

She had a crystal clear notion of what was coming.

They had talked about it—directly and indirectly—a handful of times. She had sparked the very first conversation, igniting it brazenly, motivated by the part of her that was serious and forthright, but fuelled and fanned by the other part of her that just liked playing with matches.

But once she knew what they were in, she needed to know what they were in for, she just hadn’t expected…

She hadn’t expected him to be so sure, so ready to vow.

He was more ready than she was.

The irony made her laugh (privately, silently; she would never wound him by laughing in his face about something that meant so much). All the time she had known him, she had had him coloured as the cautious one, the reserved one, the one who wouldn’t take a shot he didn’t believe would hit true, the one who wouldn’t make uncertain deals, the one who tiptoed into the water and clung to the shallows until diving further became absolutely necessary. But his caution was not indecisiveness—once he was sure of a target, he shot; once he understood the mutual cost of a deal, he sealed it; once he trusted the water, he dove in.

Cara had once intimated to Sabine that she suspected Din was, once upon a time, a reckless sort, but he had long outgrown it by the time either of them met him. Sometimes, in the stories of his past, Sabine glimpsed that reckless version of him, but anyone could see he had taken his lessons and left the idiot far behind, keeping just the change, the memories and the scars.

Right there, in their first talk about the shift that had occurred between them, Sabine could tell he was certain.

And maybe she was, too; maybe she wasn’t—right in that moment, she couldn’t tell, couldn’t figure it out, couldn’t decide because all she could think of was the last time she had been there.

Just once before, she had looked into the eyes of a man who was sure he loved her.

Just once before, she had been asked to stay and change her name.

And she had panicked.

She said no… along with some other things she later regretted, things she didn’t even realize she thought, things she couldn’t believe she felt, things she was surprised he didn’t, to this day, hold against her because, had roles been reversed, she wouldn’t have forgiven him so easily.

So this time she did what she hadn’t the first time: she asked him to wait.

Not in so many words, not directly.

Cowardly, she reminded him they had only really just got back from Wild Space, and everything was in a state of flux; they shouldn’t go around changing more things, not when the others needed to settle.

And he agreed, just like she knew he would, and it took her weeks to get over the guilt of using his sense of duty and his care for his family so manipulatively. But get over it she did and every day since had been wonderful.

It was nice being quietly in love.

Not silent, not secretive, not clandestine; neither of them were the kind of people to be overtly affectionate, but neither were they staid.

Still, she knew this routine—this day-in, day-out rhythm they kept stealing and wearing like delusional thieves—had become a disguise for procastination and they couldn’t keep it up. They couldn’t stand in the middle of the road forever; they had to pick a path eventually.

But she didn’t think she could do it this morning.

Thankfully, he didn’t hurry to speak.

He stayed there, gathering courage, connecting words, purposely trying not to occupy himself with something else though he had no shortage of options.

Sabine looked around at the variety of projects in various stages of repair, refurbishment or repurposing decorating the Azadis’ modest garage, the space utilized in the most efficient, economical manner possible but only just managing not to burst (as it was, Ryder’s speeder had already been evicted to buy more floor space).

“You should start your own business,” she commented, idly. Though she said it to regain control, she wasn’t joking: she had seen so many broken things come through here, had helped with a fair few, and she had seen him resurrect more than a few things she would have written off as scrap.

He had a gift.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Din follow her gaze, his expression pinching. “I suppose,” he said in an airy, perfunctory way—responding just for the sake of responding.

“But that’s… not what you want to do.”

For a long beat, he gave no reply, no confirmation or contradiction, leaving the sounds of the get-together down the street and the radio blaring in a neighbour’s kitchen to pad his silence. He ducked his head, his gaze realigning with the table’s edge as he smoothed his thumb over a random nick in the surface.

“I don’t know what I want to do,” he admitted at last. “I’ve been… working on it for the past two months but I can’t…” His mouth pulled and he shook his head. “I can’t go back to what I was. I can’t—I don’t want to go back to bounty hunting. But it’s all I’ve ever done… for the Tribe,” he added, his voice growing small and trailing off.

Sabine came beside him, half-sitting on the table, their gazes watching the quiet street together. She leaned to the side and nudged his arm with hers, prompting and assuring.

“Cara called, an hour ago,” he divulged. As much as it seemed like a diversion, Sabine got the sense she just had to wait for the connection. He drew a measured breath and tried, subtly, to ease his shoulders out of the rigidity they had locked into. “They’ve got the go-ahead for the Morak mission.”

“Okay,” Sabine said. “That’s… we knew that was coming.”

Mayfeld had offered up a bounty of Imperial secrets but with an interesting price: that the New Republic green-light a strike on the rhydonium factory on Morak and that he be a part of the team sent in to do it, along with Cara, Din, and Sabine.

In her own correspondence with the marshal, Sabine had learned that the request was going through—sluggishly, but steadily. The New Republic wanted all Imperial remnant bases cleared out but an indiscriminate air strike without an investigation and confirmation was dangerous; they wanted to do it, but they also wanted to do it smart.

Sabine knew what Morak meant to Din, she knew that returning there wouldn’t be easy for him, but she didn’t think it was quite that that was bothering him.

As if in response to something, he tipped his head to the side and turned with the gesture, redirecting his attention to the engine parts he had been busy with when she first arrived.

Half-heartedly, he fiddled with what looked like a modified fuel-injector, turning it over and over as if searching for the piece he needed to work on next. When he couldn’t find it (or he conceded his mind wasn’t on the task enough to handle it), he sighed, deep and gruff, and put it down.

“She… also said Greef has some ships lined up for me. She said—she said they’re good; they could help us when we go searching for the Tribe.”

Sabine leaned forward to get past his covert attempt to hide his face. “That’s what you had planned to do.”

“Yeah. I know,” he said, making every effort not to look at her.

They lapsed into silence and it wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the previous bouts—this wasn’t what he had wanted to talk about and she knew it.

For a while, they stayed as they were: beside each other, the world continuing on, daylight and day noise all around.

She drifted closer and let her head fall on his shoulder. When it landed, he turned his hand open and closed it softly over hers—different shapes, different shades, but it was hard to say who had more callouses and scars.

“Can we fly? Tonight?” Din asked, voice quiet but close, gentle and seeking but not timid, not afraid.

Sabine breathed out, relief lifting something in her chest. “The fields?”

“‘Course. Where else?”

“Could fly over the water.”

“You don’t like the water.”

“But you do. And I don’t like to go in the water, but it’s still beautiful.”

“The fields,” Din said, turning his head and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

. . . . .

Author’s Note

In my research, I learned that Nautolans start out as tadpoles. Apparently. And they hatch from eggs. But they do grow quickly to match human babies in proportions with arms and legs. However, they tend to spend their infancy mostly in water as their arms and legs are much weaker than a human’s at that stage—hence why I put a pool in Kanan and Hera’s yard. (I only checked this all out *after* I created Depa but, thankfully, it doesn’t contradict anything already written… I just now have to continue living my life as if I don’t know Jedi Master Kit Fisto started out as a tadpole, likely not much different than the Frog couple’s babies…)

Recently rewatched Spiderverse and… yeah… Kanan and Depa are Peter and baby Mayday. (Also, the whole Jarrus-Syndulla family really makes me think of the Parker family in the Spider-Girl comics. Disabled dad… big age-gap between the kids… baby using their powers for baby shenanigans… you see the vision)

Regarding Sabine’s previous proposal, I actually did slip a (very, very obscure) hint of it way back in Anchors. I’m happy to spill (and I will) but I am also slightly evil and I want to see if anyone caught onto my scheming 🧡

. . . . .

🎶 chapter playlist 🎶

Yellow — Coldplay

Stones Inside Your Shoes — Paper Aeroplanes

Give Up the Ghost — LPX

Wonderland — CHVRCHES

you’d never know — BLÜ EYES

Twenty-Eight — Taylor Acorn

Gray — Taylor Acorn

White Houses — Vanessa Carlton

Built This House — Cassadee Pope

Early Morning Coffee Cups — Jaimi Faulkner

Coffee How You Like It — Kezia Gill

As If — Sara Evans

Fire Works — Jordana Bryant

I’m Asking Her to Stay — Sherwood

Lady Gray — Ingram Hill

Paper Cups — Watershed

One Foot Down — Peter Bradley Adams

. . . . .

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#sabine wren #jacen syndulla #kanan jarrus #chopper #din djarin #grogu djarin #ezra bridger #the mandalorian #star wars rebels #djarwren #my writing #lift a sail #shadows dancing on the walls #fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars rebels fanfic

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