#yes I know he’s a green paint clone but hes NOT a part of my regular clone group they got green paint AFTER the war

[starwarskit]

Des of Depa Billabas clone battalion!

I thought if someone else can make a medic for a pre-existing battalion so can I! (And wasn’t finding out Helix is an oc WILD I really just take people around face values when it comes to named clones)

Bonus:

#his actual name is Destroyer bc everytime he held a plate on Kamino it would shatter #like not even dropping it or anything they would just break #clone trooper oc #star wars #star wars oc #the clone wars #Depa Billabas battalion #yes I know he’s a green paint clone but hes NOT a part of my regular clone group they got green paint AFTER the war

[rexxdjarin]

Out of Our Element

A Commander Wolffe x Twi'lek OC: Zeeta One Shot

part of the Captain's Log timeline of stories

Summary: Strangers at the Syndulla's have caught the eye of Ryloth most infamous crimson vixen, Zeeta. One brooding, mysterious clone stranger in particular looks like he could use some special attention and she can't wait to figure him out. Our lovely Wolffe (and Gregor who will get his own one of these) has put up with Mari and Rex's x-rated antics on their ship for long enough now. Why not give him some of his own? And boy do I have quite the woman for him 😏

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Twi'lek OC: Zeeta Word Count: 9.6k Rating: Explicit (18+ only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT) Warnings: 18+ EXPLICIT, P in V sex, blowjobs, dirty talk, rough sex, breath play, dom/sub dynamics & switching, Mature Themes, Language, References to Captain's Log Ch 13, most importantly just shamless slutty smut for our favorite commander

[Captain's Log Chapter 13] [Twi'lek OC: Zeeta Face Card] [Crossposted on ao3]

The muggy haze hung in the stuffy air of the Syndulla’s meeting cavern. Smoke from burning incense and the swell of warm bodies crowding together made beads of sweat pool up on Zeeta's ruby skin. The heavy pounding of kick drums and steel pans echoing around the stone walls filled her head, and her long, blue-freckled lekku carried the thrum of the rhythm through her body. She let the music move her, following her fellow Twi’lek dancers as they headed toward the center of the cave to start their performance for their guests. 

Despite all they had suffered at the Empire’s hand, the ancient Twi’lek custom of a large feast and a show for Ryloth’s visitors was something the evil galactic regime could never take from them. 

Although, Zeeta had not expected this group of visitors to be so enticing; a beautiful brunette human woman and three ruggedly handsome clones, like the ones she’d come to know very well in the past two years they had occupied her home planet. 

The woman stood almost possessively close to the assumed leader of the group, a clone with scuffed, blue-painted plastoid and blonde hair. Their hold on each other led Zeeta to believe that the two had likely been together for some time, so she twisted to follow the choreography and to get a better look at the other two clones that accompanied them. 

The first was a slightly wider clone, with massive squared-off shoulders, rounded thighs, and the typical dark hair slicked back on top. He wore a toothy grin, clearly happy to be surrounded by such a culturally rich gathering. The second was as wide and built as the first, but slightly taller and with a deep scar over a silver cybernetic right eye. This clone was definitely less enthused than the other two, his face set in an almost menacing scowl that would intimidate most.

Zeeta knew that she wasn’t like most women, and this clone had her name written all over him. He was edgy, moody, and maybe a little angry if she was reading him right. She was willing to bet he was the kind of intense, brooding man she craved. She could challenge him, endlessly tease him until that scowl broke and he was blubbering her name as he begged for more of her. Oh yes, he was the one she wanted to get to know better tonight.

She watched the four of them converse with the Twi’lek leader, Cham Syndulla, and Captain Howzer, the clone captain assigned to Ryloth. Suddenly, the music and dancing stopped, as Syndulla stood up to address the room. 

“My people! Tonight we welcome our new guests. They have come to help us retake our planet with their brothers. With their assistance, Ryloth will be free once again!” 

The crowd erupted into cheers for a moment before the drums started up again and the dancing resumed, and Zeeta let her body writhe and twirl as the music crescendoed. Her gaze darted over to the three new visitors every so often, and her most alluring looks were targeted at the scowling clone. Every time she looked, she found her bright green eyes meeting his mismatched ones watching her dance with suggestive intrigue. 

Cham’s wife, Eleni had now joined the fold, taking the brunette woman by the hand and guiding her over to join the group of her handmaidens. If there was ever going to be an opportunity for Zeeta to get to know the brooding clone she’d taken a liking to, this was it.

Zeeta quickly separated herself from the dancing troupe in the center of the room and made her way to the group of handmaidens talking excitedly to the new female guest. She could see that the woman was even more striking up close: dark brows highlighting sparkling brown eyes, her face dotted with freckles on her glowing tan skin, and perfectly plush, pink lips in a pleasant smile. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say the woman had the kind of glow one only has when they are carrying life, but she knew better than to ask that of a stranger. 

“Ladies, this is Mari. She is our guest. Make her feel welcome and allow her any of the refreshments she requires.” Eleni nodded graciously and made her way to her husband's side, taking her daughter’s hand and heading off to put her to bed.

“Welcome, Mari. You certainly are a lucky woman getting to travel all around the galaxy with such handsome companions,” Zeeta noted, again glancing over at the man who had piqued her interest and finding him staring right back with increasing intrigue. She could already tell he had noticed her flirting from afar. All she had to do now was seal the deal.

The other women in the group giggled their agreement and whispered amongst themselves about which of the three men suited their tastes. Mari laughed appreciatively and smirked as she looked over at them, “I am quite lucky. They’re wonderful men. You can’t go wrong with a clone, ladies. Trust me, my blondie over there is the best man I’ve ever known.” 

Zeeta smiled to herself knowing that her instincts were right about the couple and laughing at how casually possessive Mari was over her lover. It was impressive. “What about the other two?” she posited, “because that brooding one over there has been staring at me since he walked in here.”

Mari urged them to move closer to her to keep them concealed from the clones’ prying eyes and shrugged matter of factly, “Well, if you really want to know… the two of them haven’t… been with anyone in quite some time, and I promised them I’d help them out tonight. Are any of you down for some fun?”

“Only if you tell us what they’re like,” Zeeta bargained, folding her arms and looking over her shoulder at her target who had clearly been eyeing her backside.

“The one who has been drooling over you is Commander Wolffe. He’s as intense and rough around the edges as he seems. Though, he’s got a soft side to him. A girl like you might be able to give him the run for his credits he needs. He likes a challenge for sure. As long as you’re down for a little bit of anything,” Mari explained, wiggling her brows as if to suggest he was into things that were not for the faint of heart. As she continued explaining the intimate details about the other clone, Gregor, Zeeta drifted into her fantasy.

The more she heard about Wolffe, the stronger the need in Zeeta’s core grew. Those strong clone hands on her body, the strength of his muscular thighs caging her in, the gruff of his voice calling her whatever filthy names he’d like. Stars, she would let him do anything he wanted, and she’d give all the attitude in the world right back to him. She wanted to be the one who took care of the hulking Commander Wolffe tonight and, by the looks he was giving her now, he wanted her, too.

“I can introduce you all if you’d like. The boys will be so happy to have some company tonight. They deserve it,” Mari offered with a genuinely thankful smile, looking around at two other Twi’lek women, Noola and Ryloo, who were clearly interested in something salacious with Gregor.

“Please,” Zeeta agreed eagerly, following Mari and the other two women as they made their way over to the altar Cham was sitting on. The two clones were both devouring their second bowls of nerf stew as the group of women approached. 

Mari waved her hands at her companions, “Boys, this is Noola, Ryloo, and Zeeta. Ladies, this is Wolffe and Gregor. You won’t find better men to keep you company. You can take my word for it.” She turned and winked at her blonde boyfriend suggestively. 

Zeeta barely waited for the words to come out of Mari’s mouth before she sauntered over to the illusive Commander Wolffe. She slipped to within his arm’s length and stared down at him. He had such a handsome face, his jawline covered in black stubble, a broad nose, and a furrowed brow outlining the dark, provocative glare he’d been using on her earlier. 

“Hello, Commander,” she began, drawing out her vowels in a deep drawl thick with lust. She ran her fingers along his shoulder pauldron and leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “We’ll see just who’s in charge later, won’t we?” 

Zeeta tucked her dark lower lip between her teeth and pulled back to meet that scowl again only to be met with a devilishly charming smile. His hand shot out to grab her by the waist and he pulled her down onto his thigh.

“Oh, you’re a bad girl,” Wolffe growled playfully as Zeeta began gently writhing in his lap. His hand settled at the exposed small of her back to guide her ministrations. 

She hummed and let out a throaty, bewitching laugh, leaning down to lightly trace the shell of Wolffe’s ear with her tongue. “I am whatever you want me to be, and right now I am awaiting your orders, Commander.”

Wolffe grumbled his delighted approval from deep within his broad, barrel chest, and Zeeta could feel his heart pick up its thrumming pace under her delicate, scarlet hands. 

“You want me in charge, darling? You sure about that?” His hand slid around her waist, stroking the black lace adorning her exposed crimson skin. “Because I can’t promise I’ll be gentle.”

Zeeta smiled teasingly and wrapped her hands around his on her waist. “I’m not looking for gentle. I’m begging for a challenge,” she shot back, slowly starting to dig her nails into his grip on her. “Unless you don’t think you can handle me?”

“Oh, cyar’ika,” he laughed, reaching up to rest his hand on her neck to pull her close and hold her gaze, “girls like you are my specialty.” 

The lust darkening his brown eye was all Zeeta needed to know he meant business and it took everything in her not to ask him to tighten his grip on her neck. A few breathless moments passed as they studied each other, and Wolffe’s jaw worked in frustration as she made him wait for her answer.

Zeeta blinked her long lashes at him as she held her own against his captivating intimidation tactics. It was all a game of tooka and womp rat. A meeker woman would have already given in and submitted to him. Not Zeeta. She was determined to make him antsy, to make him want it so badly that he let this dominant facade go and allowed her to take from him as she pleased. Mustering up every ounce of restraint she had, she let her playful demeanor evolve into something darker and needier. The blazing fire of seduction lit her bright, green eyes and she let a sly smirk spread along her dark lips.

She leaned in close, dragging her touch down his strong jaw and hovering her lips inches from his. “Prove it,” she muttered, both her lekku trembling against her back to portray the excitement coursing through her. She slowly sat back, watching the formidable man shake off his need for the kiss dangling tensely between them. She’d cracked him so easily, his entire body eagerly lunging toward her for more.

“I’ve… uhm… got a guest room, I think. Take me there?” he asked, blinking away the haze of rampant lust still clouding his judgment and making him woozy with desire. 

She backed off him and stood up on her feet, watching the man in front of her get taller and taller as he rose to follow her. He was truly a massive man, even amongst clones, and he towered over Zeeta.

She rested her hand on his jaw and laughed, “Just as I thought… desperate boy.” 

Wolffe beamed at her in response, bearing his teeth in a saccharin smirk. Both his hands ran down her sides, pulling her closer as he caged her into his chest. 

“Ah–you better watch that mouth or you’ll regret it.” He arched his scarred brow at her and motioned for the exit. 

“No, I’ll enjoy it,” she teased, letting her fingers trace down his neck, across his shoulder, and down the bulging bicep muscles in his arms until she laced them with hers. He shuddered briefly, holding her hand and patting her on the hip to urge her to move along. “C’mon, your quarters are this way.” she finally relented, dragging him by the hand into the dimly lit corridor they originally entered from.

As the festivities continued loudly behind them, Zeeta navigated down the shadowy halls of the cavernous palace. Just as they turned the corner toward the dwellings, she was pulled backward and pushed up against the wall roughly. The air rushed from her lungs as Wolffe crowded her and stared down at her like a man starved, his chest rising and falling as he huffed. Before she could say another word, he crashed his lips into hers.

Desperately horny and with unrelenting power, he practically consumed her, pressing her hands against the wall when she tried to hold on to him. Her eyes rolled back in her head at him overpowering her so easily, and he broke the mind-numbing kiss with a laugh. 

“Can’t just watch all of you bounce in front of me like that. Need a taste of you first. You’re fucking… gorgeous,” he rambled through each broken kiss, spit-slick tongues brushing together each time he went back for more. “Not so much of a tease when no one can see you, hmm?”

“Don’t… count… on that…” she gasped back between kisses, slipping her face to the side, forcing him to miss her mouth. “I’m not going to make it easy for you, Commander.” She could sense his heart rate escalating, his determination to prove himself to her getting him going faster than he was used to. He bit down on his lower lip and groaned impatiently, his eyes narrowing as he calculated what to do next to up the ante.

Slowly, he eased his wandering hands up to cup her cheek, and chuckled softly, “Zeeta. Not a common name for a Twi’lek.” His brown and cybernetic eyes flitted around her face, studying her blue freckles, her enthralled expression, and her electric eyes. He smiled to himself. It was subtle and most would probably miss it entirely, but it was there. “But red skin and green eyes… you’re rare in a lot of ways, aren’t you? It suits you.”

Zeeta blinked back at him in surprise. He knew a lot more than she thought he would. He wasn’t just some back alley hook-up kind of guy–he had depth and intelligence. He was observant, taking in her every last detail and committing it to memory. However, from his grumpy demeanor down to his cybernetic eye, he wasn’t just some ordinary clone either. Maybe that was why she was so drawn to him in the first place.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but Wolffe had finally found a way to knock her off guard and took his chance to strike. He buried his face in the juncture where her jaw met her neck and laved hot passes of his tongue along the corded vein of her pulse. 

“W-Wolffe.” Zeeta could say nothing else in response as a breathy moan escaped her deep brown lips. 

“Commander,” he corrected, releasing the tension he’d suckled onto her skin with a pop. “I like hearing you call me that. Makes it seem like I have power over you.” 

“Only seems that way if I allow it… mmmm,” she tried to scold him, but her outburst earned her a pleasant nip to her collar bone and it made her eyes hood closed. Blood pounded through her veins and overwhelmed her to the tips of her twin head tails as he worked dark hickies onto her skin.

“I think if it feels this good, I might be able to sway you into behaving for me.” Wolffe pulled back slightly to watch himself draw the pads of his fingers along the lacy bra caging her breasts in. “Want to see what you’ve got under this.”

Zeeta inhaled deeply, making him giddy as her breast filled his palm obscenely. “Room’s… first door on the right… if you’ll let me move–”

“Thank you,” he replied, suddenly scooping her off her feet and wrapping her legs around his waist. “If I had to watch you walk another step, I’d take you right here in this hallway,” he practically purred in her ear. He pulled her body close to his chest with one arm, her lekku swaying in the air as he spun around to take off down the hall.

“Impatient,” she giggled, looping her arms around his head to rest on his shoulders. Zeeta rolled her hips against his lower torso, her center grazing him just enough to create the friction she needed to spur them both on. With both his large hands kneading either side of her ass, he lifted her off him and she groaned in frustration.

“Don’t think I’m the only impatient one, darling,” he teased with a scolding lilt to his tone. He shifted her weight into one of his arms, using the other to shove open the door to his room hurriedly. He rushed inside, kicking the door closed behind them and setting her back down on her feet. Slowly, he glanced around the room, taking in his new surroundings and ensuring there weren’t any other doors he needed to lock before they carried on.

Zeeta cocked her head at him curiously. “What? You’ve never been in your own room before?” She folded her arms and bumped him teasingly with her shoulder.

He ran his hand nervously along the back of his neck and shrugged. “Uh, no I haven’t. Not really. Not this nice anyway. Even the private quarters in our barracks were still uh… you know military barracks. Not exactly ideal for having company.”

“But that never stopped you, I’m sure, Commander,” she smiled, resting her hand on his bicep and stepping close to him again.

He shook off whatever memory he was processing and turned toward her, placing his hands on her hips to steady himself. “No, it didn’t. This is just a lot nicer and we won’t have to worry about getting interrupted. Which means my opportunities to try things are limitless. Does that scare you?” The same dark, carnal glare he’d given her all night reappeared on his handsome face.

“Of course not. I’m down for anything,” Zeeta flirted back, reaching up to hold his cheek as she leaned in to kiss him again. With her lips hovering above his, she muttered softly, “Though from what Mari tells me, we should probably establish some ground rules.”

Wolffe rolled his eyes and worked his jaw in annoyance, “That girl… nosy little thing could learn a thing or two about establishing boundaries,” he chuckled, letting one hand travel up Zeeta’s back and lazily stroking her left lekku affectionately. She shivered at the delicate touch from such a severe man and leaned into him for more. “She is right, though. Need to go over safe words and whatnot. Think you know all about that.”

Zeeta hummed affirmatively, starting to get lost in his touch on such a sensitive part of her. If he was someone she knew a little better, she’d probably enjoy laying around with him and letting him be so domestic and caring like this. That wasn’t what either of them was here to do, though, so she’d have to put how much she was enjoying this tender moment aside and listen to him for now. “Uhm… yeah. Y-yes, right. Rules and safe words.”

“The color system. Does that work for you? Green means we’re in the clear. Yellow, slow down, and red, a hard stop?” he asked, his warm palm shifting to massage the back of her neck in an attempt to continue softening her. He pressed impossibly closer, his thighs brushing up against hers as he guided them both toward the large bed in the center of the room.

“Yes, that’s perfect. Non-verbal stop… I tap you anywhere three times, got it?” She let her hands graze down the front of his sprawling chest. He somehow felt even bigger now that she was this close to having him the way she wanted to. He grumbled deep in his chest, holding her in place as he leaned in to rest his forehead on hers.

“Affirmative. Anything you don’t like that I should know about?” He tenderly kissed her forehead, his adept fingers softly stroking where her left tendril met her neck. His lips grazed her temple and kissed down her jawline, showing an impressive level of restraint for a man who had nearly stripped her in the hallway moments ago.

Zeeta let herself melt into his kisses and laughed affectionately, grabbing at the black duraweave material of his shirt. “Don’t touch my asshole. That’s for men who take me on dates first.” 

Wolffe snorted, nipping at her neck and soothing it with his warm tongue. “Fine,” he agreed, running his hand underneath the silky black strap of her bra and slipping it off her shoulder. “But I will have you there, too… some other time. After you agree to let me take you out, of course.” His touch followed where the strap fell, peeling one side of the lace top off her breast and gazing down at it.

Zeeta bit her bottom lip to hold back her shaky whimpers. His warm mouth on her neck and his touches traveling wherever he damn well pleased were putting her on edge. “What makes you think I’d agree to that?” she teased, but he interrupted by kneading her breast firmly, a satisfied smirk curling his lips at the corners as she let out a gasp.

“Come on now… don’t pretend you don’t like me, cyar’ika.” He nipped her collarbone briefly, his kisses roaming down her chest as he worked the other side of her bra off her shoulder. With two fingers he gently tugged at her nipple, pebbling it to hardness and waiting until she made any sound in response before stopping.

She watched him enjoy her body while she ran her hands up the nape of his neck and tugged at his dark curls defiantly. Zeeta grinned in delight now that he was preoccupied with her chest and muttered, “Please. I barely know you, Wolffe.” At that, he grunted and snapped the delicate lace along her back in half, the bra falling to their feet. 

“You get naked for every guy you barely know? Or just the ones you like?” he challenged, stepping back to stare at her and running his tongue along his lower lip to signal his illicit satisfaction. He exhaled and let out a low whistle. “Fuck… look at you…”

Zeeta stepped up to him and tugged at the hem of his top, urging him to take it off. “Not just guys, Commander,” she muttered seductively “A girl’s got needs, and I’ll satisfy them whether I like someone or not. Now take this off. I can’t be the only one half-clothed, handsome.”

His brows raised in surprise as he pulled his top over his head and let it puddle on the floor beside Zeeta’s. To say he was in impeccable shape would be an understatement. His bronze skin rippled over pronounced pectoral muscles, with shoulders and arms to frame them that were just as gloriously toned and flexing with his every inhale. His lower abs were strong and thick with both his sides carving down into where his hips dipped into his bottoms, but his belly was just soft enough to look lived in, comfortable and healthy. Zeeta would spend all night leaving her mark on every inch of him if she could.

Silvery, faded scars dotted numerous places on his torso making Zeeta ache to think he’d been put in harm’s way this often. A man this jaw-droppingly handsome should be spending all his days between her thighs, not getting his pretty face blasted to smithereens.

“You are quite something, Commander.” She inched closer, tracing down his lower abs to loop her fingers in his waistband. “I could have a lot of fun with all of you.”

“So ask for permission and we will,” Wolffe said, reaching for her waist and dipping down to guide her hand down his bottoms a bit further. Zeeta grinned up at him slyly and spun them both around, pushing him down onto the bed behind him with as much of her strength as she could muster.

“I don’t need your permission,” she laughed tortuously as his eyes went wide, watching as Zeeta slowly hovered down between his legs. “You need mine, baby.” 

Wolffe propped himself up on his elbows and watched through hooded eyelids as she settled herself between his thick thighs. He didn’t have it in him to fight her right this second, not with her so close to where he’d needed her all night. “We’ll see, darling. Remember how impatient I am...” he trailed off, groaning softly as she slipped a hand past his waistband to palm him over his underwear. “Fuck.”

“So mouthy… what am I going to do about that?” Zeeta cooed, palming him agonizingly slowly and watching his chest heaving in an attempt to keep his composure. He looked so sexy all worked up and Zeeta had to keep herself from drooling whenever their eyes met. She was supposed to be the one in control here, she had to focus.

With her other hand, she tugged on his bottoms and slid them down his thighs enough to get them out of her way. Both her lekku trembled with excitement as she leaned forward to press kisses into the soft hair and skin just below his navel. 

“I know what I want you to do with yours,” Wolffe said gruffly with a wicked grin, rolling his hips up into her hand.

Zeeta could feel the ache of him against her palm, every thick vein throbbing with need. He was just as big as she expected and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t eager to see it. 

“I don’t hear you asking me very nicely,” she teased, sucking a deep mark on his v-line. 

He hissed in response, punching his fist into the mattress below him. Relenting and relaxing back onto his right arm, he let his other hand trace her cheekbone. “Suck my cock…” The pads of his fingers caressed her face, slipping underneath her chin to tip her face up to meet his lust-laden gaze. He rolled his eyes and mumbled softly, “Please?”

“That’s a good boy. Now you’ve earned it.” Keeping her eyes locked with his, she hooked her fingers into his waistband and slipped his briefs down. His thick cock sprung free, slapping up against Zeeta’s cheek. She dropped her jaw in awe and smiled excitedly. “You have the right to be a little arrogant, walking around with this.”

He laughed, curling his hand around the side of her neck and guiding her face toward him. Wolffe held her gingerly, doing his best not to push her. “So show me what you can do, gorgeous.”  

Zeeta pressed him down onto his back and helped him slide his briefs the rest of the way off. She brought her fingers to her mouth and twirled her wet tongue between them, her dark lips curling into a teasing smirk as she watched him squirm, and snaked her fingers around the base of him, lazily stroking him with the same rhythm as before as she settled herself between his thighs. 

“You’re so wound up, huh? No one’s touched this pretty cock in a while. I’m so lucky I can make it all mine,” she said softly, carefully bringing his tip to her lips. She kissed it, letting her tongue dart out to flick a bead of precum from his slit. 

“Cyar’ika… fuck–please…please do,” Wolffe panted, scowling down at her as his brows furrowed together in focus. He practically whimpered as she flattened her tongue, pressing his tip on the width of it and glancing up at him feigning innocence. Wolffe grumbled his enthusiastic approval, probably relishing in the sight of her like this before him. “Hmph–don’t tempt me or I’ll stuff that bold little mouth full of me.”

Zeeta arched her brow defiantly, slapping him on her tongue twice before suckling another wet kiss around the sensitive tip and taking him in her hot mouth. He sighed, his jaw dropping and his dominant ire melting away as she bobbed her head gently, swallowing more of him each time. Veins throbbed against her lips as all the blood in his body seemed to swell at his center. She closed her eyes briefly, enjoying the pounding sensation of him on her tongue and his desperate grip on her right head tail.

She hollowed her cheeks, increasing the tension pulling on him as her plush lips glided along his shaft. Her hands jerked and twisted the rest of him and she hummed around him to signify how much she was enjoying this. Every so often, her bright green eyes flicked up to meet his, watching her hungrily as his pleasure increased and his muscles flexed as he relaxed into it.

“Filthy fucking girl,” he swore as she swallowed, her throat contracting around him making him outright moan. “You love that cock, don’t you?” he asked, stroking up the back of her neck and trying anything to keep up the battle for control. He certainly knew where to touch her and how to make her brain go fuzzy. 

The heat licking in her core flared up with every press of his fingers into her working muscles. She couldn’t help but give in a little and nod her confirmation as she popped off him.

Saliva trailed from her lower lip to the rim of his tip, leaking down his shaft and coating her fingers obscenely. It was sloppy, explicit, and sexy and Zeeta was sure the wave of desire for him now clouding her thoughts was making her drawn-out worship of his cock even slower. She slipped her tongue over her swollen lips, tasting the remnants of him. 

“I could spend all night swallowing you down until you fill my throat, but now I’m impatient, Commander. I need more.”

Zeeta sat up on her haunches, admiring the astonishing width of his perfectly toned torso and walking herself up to his face. He watched her crawl up to him, stealing a glance at where the globes of her breasts dangled over his chest. She giggled, straddling his center with her own and allowing him to feel her drenched heat through the thin material.

Wolffe groaned at the contact, his hands flying up to grip the plush of her upper thighs. He maneuvered her against his cock, the dragging friction of her still-clothed center intoxicating him. “Then you won’t be needing these.” 

Before she could slow the bucking of her hips, his large hand smacked against the round of her right asscheek and he laughed depravedly as she gasped. He smoothed his hands down the curve of her lower back, slipping her tight bottoms down her legs, panties and all. “If this little pussy’s as good as that mouth… fuck I’m going to pound you. Not used to a sexy little brat ordering me around.”

She shuddered in delight at his words. She was used to taking charge and getting what she wanted, and she was absolutely going to with Wolffe. Yet, something about that deep grit in his tone made Zeeta want to spiral out of control. He was such a cool bastard, so demanding and powerful, exactly how she always felt she was. But for some reason, with him, she felt just as safe letting him be that way for a change, too. He’d have to earn that, of course, because Zeeta would never have sexual relations with anyone without the thrill of ever-shifting power dynamics, but she was starting to consider what it would be like to let him have the reins.

“I thought you knew how important it was to follow orders, Commander,” she replied, resting her palms on his chest and dipping forward to kiss him tenderly. He hummed softly, trying to come up with a response when Zeeta slid her fingers around his neck. “Color?” she reminded in a whisper, stroking his cheekbone with one hand before allowing the other to close any tighter.

“Green, darling,” he winked, bumping her nose affectionately with his to egg her on. His hands roamed down her sides gingerly, making her shudder now that nothing stood between his touch and her crimson skin. ‘But getting more urgent. You’re killing me…” Wolffe smirked, his complaints making her chuckle. 

She tightened her grip on his neck, erotically pressing the pads of her fingers against his pulse points. “Good. The less you listen to me, the longer I’ll drag this out.” Zeeta finished her scolding with a quiet moan, rubbing up against his cock with her slick folds. Her clit throbbed with need as she denied herself, too, trying desperately to ignore the tightening knot of desire in her lower belly. “Bet everyone thinks of you as such a tough man, hmm? Always in charge, doing as you please…” she giggled cruelly just beside his ear.

He shifted to reach for her hip, but she grabbed his arm and pinned it beside his head. “And usually…” his voice strained as he gulped under Zeeta’s grip, “always getting what I want.” Wolffe challenged her, tipping up to kiss her again and whining when she moved out of his reach.

She sat up, her grip on his neck holding him still beneath her, and smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Wolffe, you will.” Zeeta turned to watch herself line up her entrance with his tip and then back to face him, maintaining the tantalizing eye contact that had drawn them to each other in the first place. “But not before I get what I want first.” She jerked her hips forward, sinking halfway down onto his cock and eliciting a garbled grunt from Wolffe as her walls suffocated him.

Zeeta’s jaw dropped open and a filthy moan escaped her lips as he split her open. She tested a few shallow bounces on him, letting him sink deeper and deeper within her heat each time. Her chest heaved and her tits bounced, making Wolffe’s mismatched eyes roll back in delight.

“Take… whatever–whatever you want,” Wolffe muttered through gritted teeth as his face hardened to show his restraint. It had been a while for him, she could tell by how viscerally his body was reacting to being touched. It was taking every ounce of strength and discipline within him to stave off the inevitable, which meant he was capable of withstanding her ruthless teasing. He just had to try.

She whimpered in delight, bearing her pointed teeth as she smiled through the mixture of pleasure and pain. “That’s more like it, Commander. I like it when you comply. Such a good boy, for me,” she cooed salaciously, shifting her grip on his neck to instead hold his jaw. Wolffe’s cock twitched inside her and she hummed in surprise. “You like that, huh baby? When I tell you how good you are? How much I love what your big, pretty cock does to me? Tell me…”

“Fuck… yeah I love it. ‘S so hot, Zeeta. Love how much you enjoy me,” Wolffe replied, grinding his hips with hers as she sunk down onto him again. “Ride me fucking harder when you fuck me. I need it… harder.” 

The heat from his mismatched gaze swirled hotter in her belly, so she picked up the pace, lifting and slamming down on him faster. She released his arm from where she’d pinned it on the bed and both his hands quickly found their place on the thick of her round hips. She rose and fell on top of his cock as fast as she could, her hips grinding into his and the lewd slapping sound of skin against skin filled the room.

Zeeta’s heart hammered in her chest as she reveled in the drag of him inside her. He was thick, spreading her swollen walls apart and spearing into her deeper with every thrust. “Gods, Wolffe you’re so good. So good for me,” she huffed between gasps for air, exerting all her energy to bring him closer to his climax.

She brought both her palms to rest on the width of his broad chest again and smiled in satisfaction as she felt his heart pounding beneath them. She could tell he wanted to speak and was probably used to being a lot more chatty when he was in control. Instead, he bit down on his lower lip to hold his tongue and quiet his grunts of ecstasy. 

He watched in silent awe as her body bounced on top of him, alternating between gripping her plush hips to help her ride him and massaging her breasts to make her erupt in goosebumps. 

Wolffe’s quiet confidence and intimidating glare were maddeningly attractive to Zeeta. As much as she wanted to maintain her dominance over him, the coiling pressure he was coaxing tighter with each heavy stroke had her teetering far too close to finishing for her liking. 

She couldn’t help but feel that this was what he wanted—to give her the illusion of control while he got to reap all the benefits of watching her work herself into a frenzy over him. He was quite the mindfuck, even for someone like her, and was so much more than he seemed. 

Suddenly, Wolffe’s large hand spanked her right cheek and gripped hard, shifting her further down on top of him. The delightful sting on her ass made her whine and she dug her nails into his chest. 

“Fuck me like you mean it, darling,” he growled lowly, twisting his hips to grind into her. Zeeta lost her rhythm as his tip speared into the deepest part of her walls, her jaw dropping and his name spilling out. “And if you can’t anymore, I’ll gladly take your role. Though, you do it so beautifully.”

Zeeta scowled down at him, her determination and unbreakable will giving her new strength. “We go until I finish, Commander. You can’t sweet talk your way out of this,” she chuckled devilishly. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here.” She slowly gyrated her hips, relaxing the pace and tightening her walls around him torturously.

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled, continuing to guide her hips. Any other remarks he had queued up melted away as she contracted around him, and he threw his head back into the pillows beneath him, the corded muscles in his neck and shoulders begging to be nibbled.

His hands on her ass pulled her down onto him further, holding her in place as he thrust up into her brutally. He was losing all patience and restraint as his orgasm drew nearer, and his grip tightened on her skin, which would probably leave dots of purple bruises all over her backside. 

Zeeta could feel every ounce of strength he possessed just begging to be unleashed, and his resolve only increased the more she tortured him. She could only hold on a little longer before the drag of him inside her would pull her under the wave building in her belly.

Before she could lift her hips again, Wolffe slid his hand up the curve of her sides, circling his grip around her throat. He smirked up at her, knowing what this would do to her. He knew how much she enjoyed it all along; he was waiting for the right moment to spring it on her. “Cum, cyar’ika. I can feel how much you want to. Let go for me. Give up. Let me take over.” 

Zeeta felt the heated tension boil over inside her, as the pads of his fingers pressed into her pulse just enough to make her head spin delightfully. She dug her nails into his chest, her entire body flexing as she let him crash into her spot one final time.

The lick of fire in her gut exploded into stardust, overheating her from the inside out and making the beads of sweat on her skin tingle as it soothed the sizzle within. He won, bested her without even breaking a sweat. No one had ever done that before. No one ever made her cum first.

Her jaw slackened as she called out his name in a high-pitched whimper. She couldn’t take her eyes off the way he looked at her, ravishing her body with that same passionate gaze. Finally, she relinquished her control and let him take her.

With his grip on her throat grounding her, he buried himself to the hilt and sat up to press his forehead to hers. For just a moment, he let her swim in the dangerously dark lust others were too intimidated to ever experience.

“Love it when you look at me like that. You’re fucking fearless,” he growled, his lips just inches from hers, “and such a good girl, too. Feels so good when you take it so rough huh?” He tipped forward to kiss her tenderly, holding her tight to his lap and biting her lower lip playfully. 

Zeeta moaned into the kiss, resting her hands on his jaw and letting him consume her. As the explosion of tingles slowly eased through her last nerve, she felt the spark between her thighs ignite once again. 

He watched her move now just like he watched her dancing before—as if fucking was an art form and she was his muse. His dark gaze was glued to where their bodies meshed as he watched her desperately rut against him. 

“M-more, Wolffe. More. Please. Please, more,” Zeeta rasped with every exhale. The rush of feeling him all around and inside her was irresistible and addictive.

Wolffe laughed almost cruelly, running his thumb along the underside of her jaw. “Ok, darling. I’ll give you more. I’ll give you everything you could ever want. But we do it my way this time and like I said before, I will not be gentle.” He let go of her throat and held her face in both hands. “Color?”

Through the post-pleasure haze still clouding her head, she flashed Wolffe that same searing, sexy grin and batted her dark lashes at him. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she relished in the anticipation. 

“Green,” she uttered with a shaky exhale.

The wicked grin across Wolffe’s handsome face made all the muscles in Zeeta’s core clench with want. He tipped her forward to kiss him slowly, far more tenderly than what she knew would be coming next. 

“Good girl,” he whispered as he pulled away, stroking her cheekbone with the back of his knuckle. 

In a second, he slipped out of her, rolled her over, and instructed her onto all fours while he rose to his feet against the side of the bed. The wall of hulking muscle that was Commander Wolffe now stood behind her, his large hands stroking down either side of her and massaging circles along the tense muscles of her back. Lower and lower the touches went, making Zeeta keen for more of this unexpectedly gentle side of him. 

Suddenly, his hands gripped the plush of her hips roughly, positioning her center higher into the air and opening her folds up right in front of him. A deep laugh rumbled through his chest as he ran a thumb through the glistening wetness already coating her from before. He brought his glossy digit to his mouth and savored her on his tongue for the first time with a low groan of delight.

Zeeta whined impatiently, turning to get a better view of him behind her threatening to overtake her. Both his eyes rolled back in his head, his eyelids fluttering briefly before noticing her eagerly waiting for him. She rolled her hips back into his thighs, trying to spur him on and make him resume at a faster pace. 

“I thought you weren’t going to be gentle,” she teased, both her lekku slowly entwining together in enjoyment. 

“Is that a challenge, pretty girl?” he groaned, his hand running over the globe of her ass before striking a well-placed slap onto it. 

Zeeta squealed excitedly, the anticipation sizzling over her every goosebump as the pain swelled into pleasure across her skin. “I told you that’s what I wanted,” she retorted, completely unafraid to push her luck with him. Before she could say another word, he pulled her by the hips across the silky sheets and dragged her glistening folds over the width of his throbbing cock. His tip bumped her aching clit perfectly, the pleasure already building in Zeeta’s burning core. She emitted an illicit moan, looking back at him desperately.

“Since you’re such a little brat all of a sudden,” Wolffe scolded, sighing as he felt the pull of her warmth so close to him again, “I’m going to fuck you like one.” He jerked his hips back, notching his tip with her entrance and plowing into her so hard it made her mind blank. The most delightfully sharp pain sent sparks through her system and spots behind her eyes as he bottomed out inside her.

“Wolffe!” she screamed, her fingers digging into the sheets for purchase as she held on for dear life. It was like all the restraint inside him had dissolved. Faster and faster his hips snapped, sending his cock barrelling into her deepest spot so many times Zeeta could no longer remember any other feeling but the burning sting of pleasure.

“Commander,” he corrected, swatting her left cheek this time and leaning over to press his chest to her back. “Don’t forget who’s in charge here,” Wolffe hissed against her neck, mocking her with the same sentiment she’d used on him earlier.

The front of Wolffe’s powerful thighs slapped into the back of Zeeta’s over and over again, filling the room with the explicit slapping sounds of skin against skin. He wrapped his arm around her torso and slid his hand across her belly, feeling for where his tip bulged with his every thrust. 

Zeeta could only cry out in quiet squeaks of ecstasy, feeling the heat in her body flooding to lubricate the length of him prying her open. He groaned and whispered praises along her overheated skin, his hips never slowing and his never-ending endurance keeping up the brutally erotic pace. His kisses traveled down the delicate curve of her slender neck until he bit down on her shoulder hard enough to leave teeth-mark-shaped bruises for days. 

She wanted to mouth off or say anything she could to one-up him and regain control. Yet, there was nothing left of her but the resignation of her will to him. His breath on her neck, hot and heavy, matched the girth of him filling her truly full for the first time. Every time she exhaled, all the space inside her was filled with more of him.

“Harder,” she mewled, reaching back to pull at the curls at the nape of his neck. He let out a drawled groan, gripping her hip tight enough to bruise. “C'mon, Commander. Fuck me like you mean it,” she challenged using his words, teasing him exactly like he did her. He snarled in amused delight and let go of her hips, holding her up with only the strength of his core and thighs.

“You don’t know what you do to me, cyar’ika,” he hissed, lifting himself off of her and running both his hands down the length of her lekku. He had noticed they were sensitive earlier and hadn’t passed up the chance to stroke her there. She gasped at the touch, her body spasming as he gripped either of them in his hands and tugged just hard enough to be pleasurable. 

“Fuck!” Zeeta moaned loud enough for all of Ryloth to hear, dropping to her elbows as her hands slid out from under her with her knees not far behind. “Fuck, right there, Commander. Don’t stop!” she pleaded, tears welling in her eyes and edging down her cheeks. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. You feel too fucking good, my dirty girl,” he laughed affectionately, his thrusts becoming deeper and more languid as he pulled her into him repeatedly. She could feel him pounding into her puffy walls, the squelching sounds of her wet core making her hotter than she could ever recall feeling. The dull ache of his cock thrummed against her collapsing walls, the most beautiful groans she’d ever heard coming from this impossibly handsome man. It was perfect. Way too perfect.

The tension in her belly coiled tighter as she caught sight of them both from the reflection of the mirror across the room. He was menacing, controlling, broad, and gorgeous, the only man she’d ever relinquished control to like this and she fucking loved it. 

Wolffe followed her gaze, guiding her up to a kneeling position by both head tails. “Since you want to enjoy the show so much…” 

Zeeta’s piercing green eyes were clouded with mesmerizing lust and the tension finally snapped the second they made contact with him in the reflection. She screamed, her hands searching for anything to grab onto and finding the strong sanctity of his arm circling around her waist. He bounced her on top of him, balancing her and carrying her to heights unknown. “I’m so close… so close, Commander.”

He buried his head in her neck, groaning curses and nipping along her pulse. “Me too. Little more for me, darling. Just a little more,” he egged her on, his hand sliding down to play with her clit. She turned her face, desperate to lose herself in him, to let him completely consume her. She rested her forehead against the side of his temple, peppering tiny kisses along his clenched durasteel jaw. 

“Be a good boy and cum with me. Together,” she whispered, feeling herself rocketing over the edge toward her climax quickly. She wasn’t going to last much longer with Wolffe’s hips stuttering against her backside. His thrusts were becoming erratic as she begged for him so sweetly. “Cum for me, Wolffe.”

Wolffe let a deep, throaty moan rip through his broad chest and he reached for her face as delicately as he had before. With her chin pinched between his fingers, he rested his forehead on hers and locked eyes with her. “Fuck, cyar’ika.”

He traced another few circles along her clit and Zeeta finally let go. The bright tingles of her climax spread through her, her insides locking down around him as his cock twitched hard. Wolffe’s breathing was ragged, his furrowed brow focused on the ecstasy written all over her beautiful face, and it sent him over the edge. 

A few shallow thrusts in and with one final snap, he buried himself as deep as he could bear and painted her insides full of his warmth. He held her to him, the strength in his bulging biceps refusing to falter even as his climax ripped through him emptying ribbon after ribbon inside her walls and the comforting, steadying warmth collecting there. 

“D-don’t move, Wolffe,” Zeeta panted, stroking his cheekbone with her fingers and kissing him desperately.  She smiled happily and relaxed into his arms as her body went boneless. “Feels so good to be full of you. Fuck.” 

He carefully lowered her to the silk sheets beneath them, balancing his body weight on his forearm and coaxing her still-spasming body through her climax. As he hovered over her, he bit his bottom lip, admiring her curvaceous frame and leaning down to kiss parts of her he’d bruised and bitten. 

He massaged her clit gently, overstimulating her just enough to make her opening quiver as he pulled out, and she finally stilled with a whimper at the loss of him. His spend followed, dripping down through her folds to pool on his bedsheets. 

“Took all of me like that… so fucking hot, Zeeta,” he cooed, running soothing circles across her inner thighs.

She watched him with intrigue as her exposed chest rose and fell in front of him. The brooding man she knew before was gone and replaced by someone even more alluring. He was worshiping every inch of her, kissing wherever he could reach and not wasting a single breath without telling her how beautiful she was. It was the kind of aftercare she always craved. She reached for him silently, whining with what was left of her voice. 

He understood immediately, scooping her up in his arms protectively as he rolled over beside her and pulled the sheets over them for warmth. Zeeta shivered at his featherlight touches along her blue-dappled shoulders.

“You win,” she giggled, resting her head on his shoulder and running her hands through his hair. For the first time, Zeeta realized just how exhausted he looked. His eyelids hooded as he got more and more drowsy in the afterglow of their shared climax.

“Only ‘cause you let me, gorgeous.” Wolffe smiled from ear to ear, affectionately brushing her cheek with his thumb.  

“Maybe,” Zeeta relented, smiling more shyly than she ever had before, even with a partner she had laid naked beside. 

There was something about him that made her giddy and nervous, and it felt so foreign, but she also realized that she had never felt safer with any other partner before either. She had let him win because she wanted him to. Her heart soared as she watched how happy and at ease he was compared to when she first met him. She liked feeling like he needed her or he’d been waiting for her. “I think I like it when you win.”

Wolffe’s eyes had fluttered closed, the groggy pull of sleep threatening to take him away from her so soon. He hummed his agreement, “I knew you would.” He slowly drifted off, his fingers drawing lazy circles along her back. 

For a few quiet moments, Zeeta just watched him breathe with a tender affection for him growing in her chest. He must’ve been through unimaginable pain, given the circumstances, and she was glad she could give him a moment of respite. 

It could only be a moment, though. He would probably have to move on soon because staying on any planet too long couldn’t mean anything good for him. And from the looks of him and his crew, they had a mission to carry out. She couldn’t get in their way even if she wanted to. 

Zeeta sighed, knowing her time with this unbelievable man was quickly coming to an end. She slowly eased forward to trace the line of his strong jaw into her memory before placing a tender kiss on his lips. Just as she began to back away he muttered, “Stay,” and his grip on her waist tightened with desperate need. 

“Please stay.” His eyes cracked open again, and a twinkle of hope shone in his one dark pupil at the gentle admission. He was much softer than he’d like to admit, just like Mari said.

She couldn’t deny this dark, mysterious clone such a beautifully simple request. Not when he looked at her with the innocence of a man who had never quite known love before but was mustering all the courage in the galaxy to ask for it anyway. 

“Okay,” she whispered softly, tucking herself into the crook of his neck. 

Wolffe’s arms curled around her much more delicate frame protectively as if he could keep time itself from taking something so precious away from him. His hand cupped the back of her neck and cradled her into his chest. She could feel the steady beating of his heart beneath his skin and figured if she was the only one he ever exposed his gentle heart to, she might as well safeguard it while she could.

She watched over Wolffe as sleep drifted him away, just as the galaxy would eventually, too. Zeeta knew better than to fall for a man who could never be permanent, and yet watching him before her now, she so wanted him to be. Someday, maybe—when the war with the Empire was over and its warriors, both clone and Twi’lek, were free. 

She lay there with him until the sun started to rise. Slowly, she slid out of his grasp and gathered last night’s clothes off the floor, dressing while he slept peacefully for the first time in perhaps his entire life. Zeeta smoothed a delicate hand along his cheek and kissed his temple. “Take care of yourself, Commander. Find me when this journey ends, I’ll be waiting.” With a quiet spin on her heels, she padded out of the room.

When Wolffe woke a few hours later to an empty bed his heart sank, the sobering truth of the loneliness of war hitting him like a ton of bricks. It was time to move on, with only a few tattered bits of her black negligee and half-moon-shaped claw marks dug into his skin to remember the most amazing woman he’d ever been with. He left for their next mission with an unspoken promise hanging in the air, left unsaid in the dense Ryloth haze. 

--

notes: finally got around to this lil expansion piece from CL ch. 13 as promised for my fave grumpy boy. Zeeta just kinda came to me and honestly? im obsessed with her. she's spicy, sweet, sexy...i mean just perfect companion for wolffe during this time when he's been needing it most. I hope you all love her as much as Mari. 🥺

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the biggest thank you in the world to my beloved bestie and beta reader @sleepingsun501 I literally couldnt do any of this without you honestly💙

tags: @the-cantina @samspenandsword @baba-fett @marierg @ulchabhangorm @queenquazar @wild-karrde @ariadnes-red-thread @inparanormal @aerangi @starstofillmydream @daimyosprincess @literallydontlook @pinkiemme @ashotofspotchka @fett-djarin @thefact0rygirl & of course my wolffe girlies who started it all for me tbh @enigmaticexplorer @cyarbika

#commander wolffe x twi’lek oc: zeeta #commander wolffe smut #twi'lek oc: zeeta #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #commander wolffe #wip captains log #captains log references :) #wip captains log chapter 13 #the clones fanfiction #the clones smut

[brown-little-robin]

44: Chapter One

part one | previous | next | masterlist | ao3 version

Safe.

Safe.

The room where Thad found Joseph is bright, with a skylight like the one in the pool room downstairs, and the light reflects from a white floor, white walls, white ceiling. And paintings. They’re Joseph’s work. Thad knows it instinctively, even before he notices the faces of Joseph’s mother and his former vigilante associates in some of them. It’s the colors that gave it away, Thad thinks, vibrant even in the paintings of dull subject matter. Prosaic pears become golden-green delicacies; skies become blue-green heavens; normal human faces glow with warm red and yellow and shades of purple and blue. Joseph’s work is an effusion of color and light that Thad couldn’t pull from his imagination if his life depended on it.

Thad doesn’t know how he found Joseph. Homing instinct, he supposes. This is what it is to have a lightning rod, he supposes.

He can’t breathe right, his nose is so squashed against Joseph’s chest. He’s just… he’s so relieved.

He clenches his fists in the back of Joseph’s shirt. Never, he thinks, never, never will he betray Joseph.

Joseph squeezes Thad so tight Thad’s ribs hurt. Thad takes a shallow breath, straining his ribcage against Joseph’s hands, and Joseph releases him, steps back and signs, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Thad lets out a big sigh. The tension of the hug goes with it. He’s still a little numb, still what Max would call “shell-shocked”, and he’s trembling a little despite the warmth of this room, but he’s okay. He’s safe here.

“What happened?”

“I ran away.”

Thaddeus pauses for a shocked reaction, an old habit hardwired into him. As he expected, Joseph’s eyes grow wide. It pleases him, in a sick kind of way.

He explains, “I yelled at Max.”

Joseph asks, “It went so badly that you ran away?”

“It wasn’t that bad. The argument. It was about my brothers.”

“Bart?” Joseph spells.

“No, the other… clones,” Thad says with something like distaste. Abruptly, he doesn’t feel like standing anymore. He sits down on the white-tiled floor and clasps his arms around his knee.

Joseph follows him down and leans against one of the cupboards that line the walls of this room. Thad sighs.

Joseph doesn’t seem like he’s going to say anything, so Thad says, “They killed the others. Did you know that?”

Joseph nods.

“It was self-defense,” Thad admits quietly.

He’s sure it was self-defense. That’s… the whole point of Inertia. To force the Flash into lose-lose situations. If the Flash dies, fine, a win for the Thawnes. If Inertia dies, the Flash killed another Thawne, and it’s another grievance against the Flash. Another meaningless reason to be angry.

Thad is angry, but not at Max. Not really. He’s not even angry at the Flash anymore. He’s angry that there’s been so much death for nothing.

Thad digs his fingers into his leg, feeling the denseness of his living muscle. His body is a miracle and he doesn’t know the point of it. The spirit in the speed force sent him back, alive—why?

Beloved.

If he is beloved of the speed force, why didn’t the speed force keep him?

He shuts his eyes. He never met the other clones in the speed force, and he doesn’t know why. He didn’t even get a sense of any presence other than Barry Allen and certain other adult spirits. Maybe the other clones just got absorbed. In which case, why didn’t he? Was he too stubborn? If he’d let the lightning and wind kill him immediately, would there have been peace afterwards? Did the speed force spit him out because he was annoying it, a little knot of anger and selfishness in its vast expanse? But the spirit said beloved, and he got the feeling that it wasn’t speaking on its own behalf.

A snap of fingers brings him out of his miserable reverie. Joseph asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Thad says automatically. Then, “Yes.”

He stops. Joseph waits.

There’s too much to talk about. He can’t get any of it out.

“I’m just… I don’t…” He struggles to find something he could say that would explain this knot of bitterness in him. It’s too complicated. He falls back on an old phrase he used with CRAYDL: “I don’t have enough information to draw conclusions.”

“OK. Do you want a hug?”

Thad laughs. Ridiculous. As if the injustice and confusion of it all could be put off with a hug.

He does kind of want a hug, though.

He nods. Joseph slides over next to him and wraps him up. Thad lets his bodyweight rest limp against Joseph’s shoulder.

It does make him feel better, weirdly enough. The clones are dead at the hands of the Flash, but Thad isn’t in the hands of the Flash anymore.

#yes the title is chapter one. it's chapter one because this was such a huge break for me and it's the beginning of a whole new arc in SR #The Strange Redemption of Thaddeus Thawne

[freesia-writes]

Howzer + Aurelia Ch. 12

Howzer stole our hearts when he appeared in TBB, and I wanted to write a bit of a backstory for him. It begins with his newbie days during TCW and stretches to where we last see him in TBB. Enjoy his character arc and some heartwarming romance, action, adventure, yearning, angst, and growth.

Master List of Chapters

Content/Trigger Warnings for Entire Work (individual chapters not labeled): wartime peril, injury, and death; pregnancy, birthing trauma, and infant loss; sexual assault up to kissing; relationship passion up to making out and heavy petting; sexual relationship alluded to but not described (no smut, sorry) ;)

Word Count: 1.1k

12. Correction

22 BBY - Ryloth

"That was a good run today, boys. Clean up and prepare for tomorrow; we're going to take their supply station. Dimissed," Sprint said with a loud, clear voice.

Howzer pulled his helmet off along with the rest of the troops around him, breaking formation and scattering to their individual plans. He fell into step next to Sprint as they walked toward the barracks. "Is it true that Syndulla and his team will be there tomorrow too?" he asked.

"Not sure," Sprint shrugged, "That's above my pay grade. But I'd guess he'll be with the Jedi and Captain Keeli's squad, so probably not." He looked stately with his new teal green pauldron which matched the paint he had decorated his armor with. Howzer had initially made fun of it but gave up once he realized he wasn't going to get a rise out of his friend.

"Hmm. I'd like to work for him," Howzer continued, "Now there's someone who gets stuff done."

"Yeah, there are mixed opinions of him," Sprint answered. "Some say he's too radical, others say he does what's needed. Who knows. Maybe we'll get to see for ourselves someday."

"Maybe," Howzer agreed. "You coming to the cantina tonight? These Twi'leks are spicy when it's a full moon..."

Sprint shook his head with a small smile, waiting for the day that Howzer wouldn't feel the need to always have something like that to say. With a nod, they parted ways for the evening.

***

21 BBY - Ryloth

***

"Left flank! Move in!" came the orders, and Howzer gripped his DC-17 tightly. They charged into the ravine, taking cover behind the rocks amid the chaos of flying laser bolts and taking turns shooting at the approaching droids.

"Aerial team, in position?"

"Yes sir!"

"Go."

Shots rained down on the Separatist army from all directions as a squad of troopers popped out of their hiding places along the ridges of the ravine. Fueled by the element of surprise and the resulting disorder, Howzer and his brothers ran in, mowing down the rows of metal with surprising ease. Almost... too easy.

"Droidekas!" Sprint announced, "Fall back!"

The troopers ran back to the cover of the rocks as the droids rolled into position, expanding their ray shields and beginning to fire.

"Grenades!"

A few blasts flashed on and around the droids, but they remained impervious to damage.

"You've got to roll them slowly!" Sprint yelled in the comm, "Second wave!"

But before they could toss the remaining grenades, a deafening roar was heard as a herd of large creatures descended from behind the droid army. A vicious array of Twi'lek warriors charged in on their blurrg mounts, wiping out droids left and right with spears and blasters.

"It's Syndulla!" exclaimed the clone next to Howzer, as they peeked over their rock. He marveled at the ferocity and efficiency of the team as they tore through the ranks.

"Let's finish them off!" Howzer cheered.

"Stay in formation," Sprint ordered.

But Howzer was filled with adrenaline. This was his chance to make an impression on Cham Syndulla, the legendary "Hammer of Ryloth". It was his chance to take one step closer to his aspirations. He broke free from his rock cover, charging in to face the remaining battle droids. He dropped two of them with two shots, yelling in victory, and ran across a clearing to finish off a few more. What he didn't see was the commando droid flipping over his head, landing behind him and targeting him with its blaster.

"Howzer!" Sprint yelled, watching the situation unfold, "Behind!" He raised his own blaster, running forward into the clearing and peppering the droid with a few shots. Yet somehow it still stood, pivoting in a complete 180 and firing toward Sprint. He dove sideways, narrowly missing a bolt to the chest, and flung an EMP toward the commando.

Then everything happened simultaneously: the commando droid sizzled in a bright flash of blue as Howzer charged at it, unaware of the Twi'lek mount leaping over the rock behind it toward the remaining droideka. The commando droid dropped, leaving Howzer facing the blurrg, and he dodged at the last minute. But he was not quite fast enough -- a swinging Twi'lek spear met the side of his face with a sickening sound, and his head snapped sideways, followed by his body. His fall was broken by a jagged rock, catching his chin on the way down, and he landed in a crumped heap as everything faded to black.

***

Howzer woke up in the medical wing, face wrapped almost entirely in white gauze. He heard the steady beep of machines and squinted, attempting to see clearly with one of his eyes partially covered. A medical droid hovered near a trooper in the next bed, and Howzer sat up more fully to look around, immediately regretting the movement as it caused a stabbing pain in his head.

"Hello CT-2420," said the medical droid, flying over to run a scan over his face. "You have sustained significant trauma to the parietal and temporal areas of your skull, as well as a series of lacerations to your cheek. It is uncertain whether or not your brain function has been impaired."

"It was impaired from the start," Sprint said suddenly, pulling back the curtain and coming to stand next to the bed. He smiled, placing a hand on Howzer's shoulder, who rolled more slowly this time to focus on him with his uncovered eye. The teal splashes on white armor were a welcome sight.

"Whh hmmfn?" the sound was as much of a surprise to Howzer as it was a comical sight to Sprint, who chuckled at the muffled attempts at speech through the immobilizing gauze wrapped around Howzer's cheeks, chin, and head.

"You disobeyed orders, that's what. Nearly got me shot and earned yourself a nice smack to the face. I'd put you on leave, but it seems you've received a consequence already."

"Mff" was the only reply, as Howzer lifted a hand to his head.

"You wanted to show off for Syndulla," Sprint accused, crossing his arms. "Howzer, I'm serious. I know you have big dreams, but you're never going to be a captain if you don't get a hold of yourself."

Howzer remained silent, eyes dropping to the foot of his bed. Sprint gave him one last pat on the shoulder, "You've got it in you, brother. Being a good leader isn't about bravado, it's about doing the right thing. Sometimes that includes heroic actions, like those of General Di and Captain Keeli... Maker rest their souls... But more often, it's about considering the whole picture and not just yourself. Now rest up."

"Hmmph."

***

Feel free to tag a friend who loves Howzer, or comment to be added to the tag list! <3

@mary-on-the-contrary @doublesunsets @523rdrebel

#the bad batch #tbb #bad batch #clone trooper howzer #commander howzer #tbb howzer #captain howzer #the bad batch howzer #howzer #howzer x oc #howzer fanfiction #howzer fanfic #howzer fluff #howzer romance #star wars romance #bad batch romance

[liquid-luck-00]

Connections 9

Chapter 9

this is based on @thepeacetea daminette soulmate au

Masterlist *** First *** Previous *** Next

Warning ⚠️ Character death

~~~~~~~~~~

Mari always thought her soul bond was curious. She never heard or activated the bond on purpose. She doubted her soulmate did either, because of what Bruce had told her about the league of Assassins. But everything seemed just off. Apart from that one switch she never had contact again. The only thing she has to gleam of her soulmate are the abilities she learned through him. She settled into bed after biding her papa goodnight.

That might not be a bad thing. As soon as that thought crossed her mind was she pulled again, but this was different.

---

Time seemed frozen for Damian.

His mother came for him again. She brought an army and him, an older version a clone of himself. She brought his clone Heretic, who was pulling the sword from Damian's chest.

I lost, he thought as the sword fell from his hand.

Father, Batman, rushed towards him when two orbs of light circled above him, one red and one green.

The red light morphed into a girl with a high ponytail and a red mask covered her eyes, her eyes emanated a red light. She was dressed in a basic suit that resembled a cross of Nightwing and Red Robin's uniforms, just all red with black spots, gloves, and boots.

The green orb turned into a boy a short cloak covered his torso, the hood covered his head and face, two cat ears were part of the hood, his eyes were glowing green. A tail flicked around under the armor set around his waist.

The girl looked at him now in his father's arms.

"No!" she yelled everything fell silent to him as he watched about a dozen more orbs appeared each forming a figure in either red or green. All except the first two moved and quickly dispatched the clone, the army of assassins, and pushed mother back.

His vision faded to black.

He could no longer feel his father's arms under him.

---

Nightwing, Red Hood, and Red Robin were now around Batman and the fallen Robin. The past holders of the miraculous formed a ring around them, linking hands. They moved them all to the Bat-cave.

"Come back little one." Hippolyta, if she remembers what Tikki told her, cupped her face as she faded away.

"Tikki," she whispered out.

"What's wrong?" the little goddess rubbed her eyes.

"I... We... Cave... Now." She managed. She transformed and swung through Gotham unnoticed until she reached the cave under the manor.

The past holders and her cat were still there. She dropped her transformation and ran to her extended family.

"Pixie how?" Jason had taken off his helmet and hugged her.

"You were there weren't you." Tim stated, so she nodded confirming his theory.

“He is neither alive nor dead he is in a plane between the two." A cat, Hei Mao, dressed in a long sleeved black gi, armor plates on his right upper arm and a cat mask on top of his head, eyes like the other cat apparitions were glowing green a black domino mask covered his eyes.

"How is that possible?" Bruce coaxed himself to whisper, cowl down and holding back tears.

"He is your bonded. You are tethering and maintaining his soul whole." A ladybug in knightly armor, red glowing eyes like all the other ladybugs spoke, Joan of Arc.

"My bonded," Marinette breathed under her breath.

"The magic which flows through your veins flows through him. He is your..." the only male ladybug, a red feathered headdress and red cape, red warrior paint covered his eyes and stained his hands, Micazoyolin, added only to be interrupted by Dick.

"Soul mate." Dick gasped from next to her.

"It is possible to revive him." a woman in a loose black dress and a Jaguar patterned cape with green under the cape. A black Jaguar headdress with long green feathers sat on her head green warrior paint on her face and hands, Ocelome, drawled looking between Damian's lifeless body and the green soul of her cat. "By using the waters of the Lazarus."

A gasp was heard from the bats and birds in the cave, Mari flinched further into her big brother Jay. Mari began to sag from exhaustion and the visages of the past holders began to flicker.

"Perhaps this conversation is best held elsewhere," Hippolyta broke the silence. "I, Queen Hippolyta of the Amazons, invite all of you to Themiscyra. Until we meet in the flesh my child."

Two by two each pair of ladybugs and their cats disappeared, all but the solitary cat, her cat, remained. Everything was still and silent within the cave. No one knowing how to proceed, so they stayed as they were.

None of them could tell you how long they stayed like that, but a new voice started.

"Bruce care to explain why my mother told me to bring all of you to Themiscyra." Wonder Woman appeared on the Bat-computer. "By Zeus. The apparition of the cat. Do you know what this means?" Bruce’s back was to the computer, Damian’s body still in his arms protected by his cape from Wonder Woman’s sight.

"Yes we do. Come by around noon everything should be sorted by then." Bruce brought himself to say, Tim ending the call after a nod from Wonder Woman.

"Come on pixie let's get you home before the sun rises." Jason put on his helmet. She nodded, transformed , and let Jason pick her up as they left the cave.

Jay-Jay stopped a few blocks away, she moved and clung on his back like a baby koala. As Red Hood swung and ran across the roof tops. He tucked in his little sister and left.

---

One moment he was dying in his father's arms. No he did die in his father's arms. But what was odd was the tug after a moment in the darkness.

The next he was standing in the Bat-cave next to his father and his body. The first girl in red was gone, but the others were here still. About 10 minutes later a red figure of a girl swings into the cave. If he could move or speak he would have. Or maybe not. The figure was engulfed in pink light and there stood Marinette Stone. She ran into a hug from Todd.

"Pixie how?"

"You were there weren't you." Drake stated, Marinette must have understood the statement as she nodded her head. It was silent until one of the green and black figures spoke.

"He is neither alive nor dead he is in a plane between the two." Hei Mao, the other voice in his mind supplied.

How am I not dead?!

He could still not move or speak so he stood and listened.

"How is that possible?" he heard his Father.

"He is your bonded. You are tethering and maintaining his soul whole." Joan of Arc, the voice again supplied.

"My bonded," Marinette, the voice supplied but now he placed it, the voice is Marinette.

"The magic which flows through your veins flows through him. He is your..." the only man in red, Micazoyolin, Marinette corrected his thought.

"Soul mate." Grayson shrieked.

"It is possible to revive him." Ocelome, she supplied and he took the intonation, without our analyzing now. "By using the waters of the Lazarus."

He heard his family suck in a breath and seem to become stone still, Marinette flinched further into Todd who was hugging and seemingly guarding her.

"Perhaps this conversation is best held elsewhere," Hippolyta broke the silence. "I, Queen Hippolyta of the Amazons, invite all of you to Themiscyra. Until we meet in the flesh my child."

Two by two each pair of ladybugs and their cats disappeared, all abut him. He still could not move, he could not speak either, but his mind raced.

I am dead.

Actually I am apparently not alive or dead.

My best friend is my soulmate.

My soulmate does not hate me.

She knows. She knows me. She knows my aggravating family.

She is stuck with us, with me.

Marinette is my best friend who happens to be my soulmate.

His thoughts would have continued had it not been for the voice coming from the Bat-computer.

"Bruce care to explain why my mother told me to bring all of you to Themyscira." Wonder Woman, "By Zeus. The apparition of the cat. Do you know what this means?"

"Yes we do. Come by around noon everything should be sorted by then."Father spoke his back to the screen shielding his body from vein.

"Come on pixie let's get you home before the sun rises." Todd finally spoke taking Marinette home.

Father finally stood, for a moment he looked at him and then his body before moving to place his body in a portable cyro-chamber in the Bat-plane.

Then the darkness returned.

---

The next morning she woke up with a resolve that everything would turn out fine.

Okay sure I just found out my best friend is my soulmate. the was killed by his clone, but he is in a state of limbo. Okay this was a lot but this is not the end of the story.

So as she, her papa, and Penny were having breakfast a knock sounded at the door.

"I'll get it." Penny excused herself. "Tim what a surprise come in." Tim was promptly sat at the table a mug of coffee and pancakes were placed in front of him.

"What brings you here so early mate?" Papa chuckled after watching Tim chug the coffee.

"Well, we were planning on a family trip for the week but..." he started. "B locked himself in his office and Damian won't budge, so" he looked at Jagged. "We were hoping that we could steal little bean for the week since both of them can't say no to her." he rushed barely stopping to breathe.

"Whatcha say little rock star," Papa turned to her smiling, "want to spend the week with your brothers?"

"Yes." She jumped up and hugged her dad and ran to her room to pack. Tim-Tam joined her a minute later as he asked Diana about the climate of the island.

"Why can't we go too, Lucky Penny?" Mari heard her papa ask.

'Sigh' "You've got a full schedule, why don't we plan something for the following week, your clear then." they heard Penny compromise.

"Rock 'n hear that little star," Papa poked his head in as they finished packing. "Maybe we'll steal one of Bruce's birds next week for our trip." He semi whispered the end.

Tim seemed surprised at the comment but schooled his features quickly, he picked up the suitcase and Mari pulled her papa out of the penthouse suite, gave him a hug as she went with Tim.

Less than an hour later she was sitting in the Bat-cave having loaded the bags in the Bat-plane, with the three eldest Wayne children and Bruce, waiting for Wonder Woman.

"Hey Mari can I ask something?" Tim sat down next to her.

"What is it Tim Tam?"

"What did Jagged mean when he said one of Bruce's birds?" Everyone was now watching the two and listening to the response that was to follow.

"Oh, um papa might have figured out that Uncle Bruce is Batman." She was now fiddling with her fingers in her lap. When no one answered she continued. "Remember a couple of months ago when the Sirens crashed Papa's concert. Well when Uncle Bruce and Jay Jay moved me and Papa away and into his dressing room, B didn't make his voice gruff and gravelly as Batman's usual voice. So papa thought maybe his voice isn't usually as gruff and the new voice is actually his real voice, and once papa hears a voice, he never forgets it. I promise I never told him and I never told him he was right but he is pretty sure and I don’t think he’ll even believe you if you tell him he’s wrong." Mari scrambled to say, ending it with a small sad smile looking up through her lashes at everyone.

"Father like Daughter," Bruce was the first to speak. "Everyone is getting a permanent voice modifier installed in their suits." This resulted in every one laughing. Effectively breaking the tension previously in the room.

"Smart idea B." Jason answered making Mari smile wider.

That was when Wonder Woman decided to arrive. Ending the conversation as they boarded the Bat-plane leaving for Themyscira.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist🐺🐾: @itsmeevie01 @miraculouspenta

Taglist🐞🦇: @thanks-captain-obvious @mandy989 @our-preciousss @readingismyoxygen @birdy912 @shifty-lesbian-retro-goblin @todaylillypads @laurcad123 @demonangel27 @be-happy-every-day-please @fandom-trapped-03 @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @t1dwarrior-of-earth @saays-bitch @k-poplunardreams @animegirlweeb @weird-pale-blonde-person @myazael @toodaloo-kangaroo @moonlightstar64 @miraculous-simmer7 @wannajointhecrabcult @blackmagicforever @iamabrownfox @justcourttee @consumeconstantly @abrx2002 @livelifeauthorstyle @certifiedbidisaster @dreamykitty25 @ironspiderstark @fantasyislive @dast218 @susiej1118 @sassakitty @lilyreadbooks12 @dawnwave16 @mochegato @galla02006 @nathleigh @trippingovermyfeet @promiswords @rosep16 @officiallydarkgeek @inarachi02 @justafanwarrior @emimar7

#maribat #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #miraculous x dc #mlb x dc #past holders #daminette #maridami #damimari #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #soulmate au #Connections AU

[shiftynightshade]

Cody shifted as General Kenobi gestured to the holo-map, a frown accompanying the crease in-between his eyebrows. The general was discussing tactics and strategies with the dreadful Wilffur Tarkin, and the two were debating over the better battle plan.

(It was arguing really, one-sided as it was.)

‘Well’ Cody mused. ‘Which strategy will allow more Vod’e to walk away alive.’

Tarkin was infamous in the GAR, ruthless in all his plans, and he certainly didn’t care about how many brothers died, and if all of them died but the battle was won, all those deaths were overlooked by everyone.

Except the Jedi.

The Jedi treated them like people, sentient beings with thoughts and feeling, not flesh droids. Called them by their names rather than their numbers, mourned them and loved them.

And Cody’s general, Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Negotiator, was the best of them all.

Tarkins’ oily voice was cold and snide as he leered at Kenobi through the hologram.

“Well, General Kenobi” He spat out their Jedi’s title, which evidently didn’t go unnoticed, if nearly every brother on the bridge bristling in offense was any indication. “It seems that we are yet to meet at a compromise, I shall call at a later date to discuss this again.” With a harsh flick the call was cut.

Under his bucket Cody frowned. He hated the way Tarkin talked or looked at his Jedi. Obi-wan had turned around, a scowl in place of his normal charming smile, and Cody longed to run his thumb over those soft pink lips and kiss them sweetly.

The sudden beeping of the comms nearly made Cody jump. Nearly. Though judging by Waxer and Boils snickering, his brothers still noticed. Fuck.

“Kenobi?” Helixes’ drawl trickled through. “The Jedi healers arrived sir.”

Obi-wan nodded, even if Helix couldn’t see it. “Bring them to the bridge, thank you Helix.” Cody sighed internally, whether it was from relief or anticipation, he wasn’t sure yet. The senate had finally caved and ordered for a Jedi healer to be stationed with major and heavy-hitting battalions to assist and to make sure that those Jedi didn’t get themselves killed or captured as more and more cases of force exhaustion and force coma’s quickly rose among the Jedi.

Cody could still remember Pond’s terrified voice trickling through their comms, his breathing laboured and speech borderline hysterical. Sobbing about how during one of Windu’s worse bouts of force exhaustion and headaches, caused by there being too many shatterpoints had left them vulnerable.

Ponds was clutching his generals lightsaber in both fists, hands trembling and obviously trying to not think about what Dooku and Ventress could’ve been doing to his riduur, and he had refused to let go of the lightsaber until they had finally located and retrieved Windu two months later, the master of the order in a force induced coma and still temple bound.

Cody repressed a shudder. The sheer brokenness in Ponds eyes as he stared at the Korrun’s battered body floating lifelessly in the bacta tank, then later spending every day religiously by his side while holding his hand gently, not caring of the days going by as he sat his protective vigil by the comatose Jedi’s side.

Cody pursed his lips. It’s probably for the better.

Obi-wan’s expression morphed into slight confusion, even if it’ was only a slight narrowing of the eyes.

Cody removed his bucket to rest it on his hip and opened his mouth. “Sir?” He was going to say more, but he was cut off by the door to the bridge opening and a scream of “OBI!” echoing in the room. A blur of cream and blue robes and pinkish red skin rushing past him which quickly turned into a hug like tackle, the blur turning out to be a red-pink Calamari woman in a combined set of cream and blue robes, her shout having quickly drawn the attention of everyone on the bridge.

Obi-wan had looked up at the shout, surprise then joy spreading across is face as the calamari latched onto him like a barnacle from Kamino’s oceans.

Cody felt his eyebrows rise, in curiosity, and when Obi-wan hugged the vibrating stranger back just as tightly, he was pretty sure they were going to fly off his head.

Obi-wan smiled warmly, and for one in a long time, it met his eyes.

“Bant! I didn’t expect you to be assigned to u!”

Head against Obi-wan’s chest, the side of the temple where ears on a human would be rested right over his hears. Crys cleared his throat.

“I’m going to guess that you two know each other?”

Obi-wan gave a rare, but blindingly radiant smile. The two shifted so his and Bant’s arms were wrapped around each other’s shoulders a position Cody was familiar with. It was one of kinship and a way to acknowledge siblings.

Bant giggled. “Obi’s my Clanmate and brother in everything but blood.” Cody blinked.

“Clanmate..?” He ventured. “Is that like the vode’s batchmates?”

For a ridiculous moment Cody thought that would’ve been confused about the concept of batchmates, but her large eyes sparkled and she smiled.

“Exactly! There’s a few differences obviously, but the concept is same!”

Cody gave a small smile at the praise, ignoring Cry’s imploring look.

Suddenly Obi-wan straightened. “Everyone, this is Bant Eerin, she’ll be serving alongside our medics for an unprecedented amount of time.” A shiny whose name Cody has yet to learn raised their hand.

Obi-wan nodded at the shiny. “Yes..?” the prompt for their name went unsaid. They shifted on the spot. “Ace sir.” He tapped his fingers against his yet to be painted armour. “If you don’t mind me asking, but what’s different about clanmates?”

Bant smiled. “Great question Ace! Clanmates are like a Jedi initiates family until they are picked by a master, and then they join that lineage’s family.”

She bumped her shoulder against Obi-wan’s with a small grin. “It’s up to an individual whether or not they still consider their clanmates family or not.”

She fiddled with a necklace, the rope and pendant barely noticeable under her robes. “Sometimes a Jedi will switch masters, whether because they requested a change or something happens to the master, then you will be considered apart of two different lineages.”

Obi-wan grinned and nodded. “Does that answer your questions Ace?”

The clone nodded bashfully, a small smile and a soft blush making its way onto his face.

Crys leaned against a console with his arms crossed, but swiftly raised a hand. Obi-wan nodded over at him. “Yes Crys?”

Crys stared at the two Jedi with thinly veiled curiosity, and on the excited shifting from the rest of the Vod’e, they were just as excited to learn.

“What did General Eerin mean by if a Jetti shiny requests a new master?” They all knew what ‘if something happened to the master’ meant. Too incapacitated to teach and raise, or dead.

Bant’s eyes grew sad, while Obi-wan closed his eyes. “If,” Bant began, a mix of grief and anger swirling in her eyes. “-A padawan requests a new master, an investigation is launched immediately for why they want a change.”

Obi-wan took over. “There has been only a few cases of abuse, but they still exist, some instances a master had declining physical or mental health. And both have agreed that it would be safer and more beneficial for both to part ways.”

Obi-wan grew quiet. “And there has only been a handful of time where the master has fallen to the darkside.”

The bridge grew quiet at that. Cody hadn’t seen a Jedi that had fallen outside of Dooku, but he’s heard stories, tales of how they became a shell of their former selves. He shuddered at the idea of an ad’ika happened to be with them…

And Cody dreaded the idea of his general falling. Pale skin splashed with the blood of innocents, Jedi and Vod’e alike, warm blue-green eyes taken over by a cold, molten gold that boiled with rage and hate. His blue lightsaber, usually a blazing symbol of hope and safety, instead replaced with red, a symbol of fear and darkness.

Cody let out a breath. He and the rest f his brothers would rather be cut down or eat their own blasters than fight against their general.

“-Ways Bant, do you need any directions or do you want to go straight to the med-bay?”

Cody jerked out of his head, eternally grateful that he had put his bucket back on.

Bant and Obi-Wan had turned to face each other. Bant smirked. “Are you saying you’re willing to go to med-bay with me?” The bridges occupants collectively held their breaths.

Bant hummed. “Sixty-six seconds Obi, better start running.” Cody watched in amusement as a few clones cheered or yelled out “go general!” as he dashed down the hall, and Cody managed to catch a glimpse of Obi-Wan kicking a vent covering open and leaping into the vents just as the covering fell back into place.

Sixty-six seconds later and Bant stood from where she was sitting and cleared her throat. “Alright, boys!”

She grinned. “Who wants to help me hunt down a rogue patient?”

Cody grinned as Crossbones cheered from his spot next to Crys.

#obi-wan #mace windu #codywan #cody #crys #helix #bant eerin #ponds #wilhuff tarkin

[m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s]

Crosshair x GN!Reader Drabble: There were many days where the band almost burned the skin of your fingers. Memories dripping, love and pain all the same. For him, it was strange. Foggy memories that he didn’t know if he would ever quite reach.

Genre: Haha, wanted to write some fluff, and then I ended up with angst instead. There’s like a tiny amount of fluff, and then it gets blindsided instantly by the angst, oops.

Warnings: Angst, established relationship, but not much else (talks about marriage and mentions wedding rings, in case anyone doesn’t like to read that content).

Word Count: 1,064 words, 5,711 characters

*Disclaimer: I do not own anything relating to the Star Wars universe, nor do I own anything relating to the Clone Wars universe. I do not own any characters, places, or things unless they are of my own creation.*

Picture is from @dinbeskarbaby

Words italicized are flashbacks

(This is proofread)

><

I love you. Very much. I miss you. Very much. I hope I see you again someday. Maybe soon, perhaps? - Moons

><

> Forever, But Not Always <

><

The ring reminded you of everything. Or nothing at all.

It burned through your fingers, leaving an imaginary scar in the shape of the band that you had worn for so long on your finger. The stone glaring menacingly in the light that reflected off it. You tried to ignore it, but it was there.

Always.

He had given it to you when you had least expected it. The Marauder had been stationed on Kashyyyk, the forests surrounding the ship in lush green trees and wildlife far beyond your knowledge. He had told you there was a surprise. Blindfolded eyes, excited smiles, knots in stomachs. He had guided you, even chuckled and rolled his eyes at your attempts to figure out what he could have planned for you.

…

“It’s not my birthday…” You trailed off, still pondering on what could be waiting for you just behind the folds of the cloth that were draped on your eyes. A warm chuckle settled into your ears, a shudder repressed on your part.

“No. Do you really think I would forget your birthday?” It was your turn to laugh, shaking your head as fingers still guided you up a slope.

“Of course not. Then again…”

“Oh hush now, mesh’la. We’re almost there anyway.” You felt your grin grow, excitement and nerves fluttering in your stomach. This was something different. You knew that whatever he had planned, it was not ordinary, and it would surely be something that would warm your heart.

For whatever reason, you just couldn’t pinpoint what “it” was.

Warm fingers left yours, but they came behind your head to where the knot of the blindfold had been.

“Okay, are you ready?” You only nodded, too excited in the moment to really voice your opinion.

From where you stood, you could see the sun setting. He had brought you to see the sunset.

It was glowing, shining so bright that even though it looked far away, it almost touched you in warmth. Blush painted itself quite close to the sun, but then it faded softly into tangerine. Peachy tones and golden hues followed, on display for the whole planet to see.

Crosshair was closed off. Stoic. It came with being the one who had to stay behind, the one who took on grueling tasks in the field. He was the one who had to have everyone’s back, even though it felt like no one had his sometimes.

You changed that. You, filled with hope and passion. You, quiet and soft. You, practically dominating his beating heart with dreams of the future yet to come. You had nestled yourself in his mind, slowly breaking down the walls. Not with a hammer or a pickaxe, but with a love that held deep and true.

It was a clearing of his throat that had pulled you from your reflections. It was a turn of your head to the noise that had altered the course of your relationship with him forever.

He was never good with words, but you didn’t need him to be.

One knee, arms positioned, hands holding the one thing you had long dreamed to see one day gracing his fingers gently.

It was silver, and made of wire. It was bent into the shape that would fit your finger, and a stone perched between the wrap of the wire. It shone white and crystallized, the sunset reflecting little rainbows off it.

The pooling of adoration was the first thing you registered in your heart, followed by something you couldn’t quite discern in the wake of this moment.

“I-”

“Yes.” He stared up at you, a blink or two going by, a wide smile that was rare in itself adorning his cheeks at your quick response.

“I haven’t even asked yet.” You only smiled back at him.

“I don’t need you to. I already know my answer.”

…

It was months later when it finally became true and real. Surrounded by the rest of the Batch, it was quaint, but no one really minded. Tech officiating, and Hunter standing right beside Cross. Wrecker standing opposite, handkerchief in hand as sniffles sounded from the man. Echo linked to you, a look of pride over the fact that you had chosen him to lead you down the aisle.

You were the center of attention though. Radiating only love and affection, Hunter could feel the waves of happiness that stirred inside you. It was almost like you were seeing Crosshair for the first time again when you finally arrived at the altar.

He was bathed in a new light this time. Peace spreading over his face, a smile appearing at the sight of you.

It was perfect…

Perfect could only last for so long.

Now all you felt was an emptiness. A hole that wouldn’t go away, but grew in size as you went longer and longer without the man you had deemed to be the one person who knew everything about you, and still loved you all the same.

Running from the Empire did nothing to ease your worries, but it distracted you from the grief that still swirled terribly in your mind. It gave you something to put your effort into, instead of focusing on what you had lost.

The ring reminded you of a lot of things. There is sat on your finger, stone still reflecting rainbows when the light would hit it just right.

You just couldn’t decide if the memories were enough to keep the heartbreak at bay.

It meant everything, and nothing at all.

…

He didn’t know what it was. It was silver and it was on his ring finger, but he didn’t know why he would have it.

The silver of it would glint in the light of the facility, and it almost caused a feeling of sorrow when he would gaze upon it at night all alone.

The ring reminded him of a lot of things.

Foggy memories he couldn’t quite get through, feelings of love surrounding them. He really didn’t know what to make of the band on his finger. It did not burn, nor did it leave an imaginary scar.

He didn’t understand why you came to his head every time he looked at it.

There was only one thing that kept going through his mind.

Only one.

“Always.”

><

#so i would say sorry but oops #i didn’t mean for this to happen i swear #😢😭😖 #star wars #the bad batch #the clone wars #tbb spoilers #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair #clone trooper crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #it just magically appeared and i was like #‘okay #more angst splendid’ #moony’s writing

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea

Star Wars, The Bad Batch Pirate!au (Hunter x Reader

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers dad and bothered are asses.

chapter one

Chapter two: The Stowaway

It is a disgusting day on Coruscant. Hot, humid and you can’t help but feel something sinister in the air. You feel hollow, and it is only partly due to the tightness of your dress. The yellow and green material wraps around you in layers. Your face is blank but your mind is racing, if you cannot convince your father to call off the marriage, how else can you put a stop to this?

Very few people talk about the war, and so how Lord Nython made his fortune is a mystery to you. What you have gathered from whispers of those in your household it was through a lengthy siege that devastated republic and seperatist forces alike.

“And the weather today is perfect for sailing, I bet those ships at the docks will be itching to set off.” Your handmaiden Seil says to you, and you frown, since when did she have an interest in the docks. But she continues playing with your hair.

“I'll get you the most expensive jewelry in the house,” She says with a smile you’ve grown up with. Perhaps carer was a more accurate term, considering she seemed to be the only person in the world that wanted the best for you. She returns with a pouch of all kinds of gold, silver and gems.

“There is a way to the docks, it is so lovely for a stroll. Away from the busy streets and such like.” You frown at her obsession with an area crawling with pirates.

“Seil what in the name-” You start saying, turning around to slip your flats on. And you stop, in her hands are your boots, made for riding as you had done so many times before.

“I thought these would be fitting, as they are your favourite.” She’s talking about all the times you told her how much you love how sturdy they feel around your feet. And how when you would run the fields, how powerful they made your legs feel.

And then it clicks. The docks, the boots. The tears in her eyes. While you were planning on an escape from this marriage, Seil had been planning an escape from every marriage your father would force on you. She ties the boots tightly, and places a hand on your cheek as you both take shaking breaths to compose yourselves.

And with your father still passed out in bed, and the sun barely rising, you slip into the streets and into the areas less traveled, sprinting off towards the ocean.

The docks are infused with the smell of fish, and the workers barely turn a glance your way as you shift through the swarms of people. You come to a halt at a clearing in the crowd, and your brain catches up with itself. What are you going to do now? With no money, skills, or plan, you begin to second guess yourself. You have time to make it back to the household with no one being the wiser. But you remember meeting Lord Nython for the first time.

His hand latched to yours like a monster squid to its prey, you notice that unlike some men he doesn’t ask ‘may I’ before touching you, and you briefly wonder what about you invites his hand onto your own. But your fake smile remains plastered on as he looks you up and down like a farmer regards the sale of livestock.

Your gut had told you then that all he could bring you was bad news, confirmed by rumors and stories of his wartime expeditions, and when he told you about the war, and the pathetic Grand Army of the Republic he spared no detail in his murder of an entire army.

Of course it's not the same as killing someone like you or me, those kaminoans are devils, and those freaks are just the same. Like hunting the same dumb peigion over and over again. We surely must have downed hundreds of them that day, but they are rats you see, you have to kill every last one in order to rid yourself of the infestation.

Education had not taught you about the Kamino Clones, but experience had, every sepratist man who held power despised them. ‘Scum of the earth’ your father had said when you asked about them. Telling you they had their emotions removed, and blindly followed orders given by the highest bidder. And when the G.A.R had fallen, they scuttled into exile.

And now you stand on the docks of Coruscant, two paths in front of you. Surely if you left Nyhon would send someone after you, he never seemed to back away from a fight, and given his reputation for always getting what he wanted, you doubted he’d take to your absence kindly. So that left you with leaving the only home you’d ever known, and given that you cannot sail, nor pay for passage, stowing away was your only option.

You briefly wonder about the procedure of stowing away, does one pick a certain ship or choose at random?

“Can I help you miss?” A Togruta man asks you, only his blue face visible from underneath his hood and cloak, but the markings give him away, as well as the point in the fabric over his head.

“I...I…” you pause to gather yourself. “I’m fine, thank you.” and you quickly turn away from him, walking down the docks at a purposeful pace. There are so many ships all looking to either load or unload supplies, but none of them seem to be leaving shortly. You need escape now, and not later. The longer you dwell the more the bad feeling in your stomach grows. You must lose yourself again because before you know it a man is rushing past you and shouting

“Sorry miss!” as he goes, you catch the clanking of metal and a glimpse of eyeglasses as he disappears up the ramp of a large dark oak ship, the name Havoc Marauder painted in red at the back.

Perhaps you have found your escape after all.

You very quickly decide the ocean is terrifying. After having snuck up the ramp and into the depths of the ship, you found yourself in your current spot. Huddled behind stacks of crates sitting on the wooden floor and being violently rocked around as the water crashes into the side from all sides. More than once you’ve had to close your eyes in panic when something particularly bad happens, but you refuse to appear weak - even if you’re the only person to witness it.

And the footsteps, even though the men seldom come below decks but you can hear them step ferociously above you. They sound like an army and considering you didn’t get a good look at any of them, you had no idea how many people you were hiding from. They’re loud, and kept busy by the Sea, you have no idea where you’re headed, but as long as it’s far, far away from Coruscant you couldn’t care less. And there are no windows here, so you have no idea how long you’ve been traveling for.

Footsteps start to make their way to the set of stairs leading down into your hiding spot, the small nook of the ship that resides in the belly of the beast. The steps you hear aren't as heavy as others, but they seem to keep most of their weight on their toes, you never quite hear their heel make contact against the wood. And you press yourself tighter to the wall, a tall frame passes you by, lean and with ashen hair the man halls a crate away from the other end of the room, and turns to leave. Your panicked eyes can do nothing but stare back at him through the gaps in the boxes, and they watch him squint for a moment, before he turns and heads back up the stairs. Crate in hand, and your heart in your chest. He cannot have seen you, if he had, why turn away? Panic consumes you.

☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠

“Sarge,” Crosshair says, thumping the crate of bread and dried meat down in front of him. Hunter simply raises an eyebrow at his vod, and it confirms Crosshair's hypothesis. The captain is in one of his moods again, when shaking off the nightmares is impossible and the hate inside him grows and simmers at fantastical measures.

“There’s a woman on board.” He tells him, casually popping a pick into his mouth. And watching as Tech’s and Wrecker’s heads snap up.

“A woman?” Tech asks with judgement. Crosshair rolls his eyes.

“Yes a woman, you know, the things that look almost like you except for their b-”

“I know what a woman is!” Tech cuts him off before things get graphic. His brother never having the politeness nor the decency to hold his tongue.

“There’s a woman aboard the Murader?” Wrecker tries to confirm, and underneath his wide captains hat, Hunter’s eyes darken.

“Listen very carefully.” He growls, the midday sun shining its way onto an unforgiving face. “If there is a stowaway. I do not care if you have to drag her to me with her intestines hanging out. Get. Her. Off. My. Ship.”

“But…” Wrecker starts, taken aback by the aggressive imagery.

“But what?” Hunter snaps, standing up and seeming small compared to his brother, but nonetheless intimidating. “I want her found and I want her off my kriffing ship.” He demands one last time before stalking back to the captains quarters.

Below deck you hear the slamming of a heavy wooden door, the sound makes your skin jump crawl with dread. Something has gone very wrong indeed, and it is not long before you see boots standing at the top of the steps down into the hold where you thought you were hidden. It is difficult to tell how many, two for certain, the change in foot size tells you that much. None of them talk, making it even harder for you to mask your panicked breaths. But just as one foot begins to descend the stairs, a voice from afar distracts it.

“Ship off the starboard bow!” it’s enough to get the men turning away from your concealment, and towards the voice.

“What does she fly?” Another voice shouts, much closer to you.

“Looks Weequay to me!” comes the response, which causes someone else to grumble something about eyesight and crowsnest. Frankly it’s all gibberish to you, starboard could be another hyper-ocean speedway let alone a part of the ship, and while you are sure you’ve heard the term Weequay before, you can’t place where or in what context you heard it. Laughter breaks you from your thoughts.

“That’ll be Hondo’s ship then!” A loud shout settles in your bones. Not one in anger but perhaps more so simple loudness. And whoever or whatever a Hondo is, it is enough to carry the shoes away from you and rush to another, more pressing task. Which makes you think you just may owe this Hondo your life.

Taglist: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses

comment to be added!

#the clone wars #clone wars #clones #clone wars x reader #the clone wars x reader #clone wars x you #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #crosshair #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x you #the bad batch #bad batch x reader #bad batch #jessiebanethedragon #the bad batch series #clone force 99 #clone trooper echo #clone trooper tech #clone trooper hunter #sw tbb #star wars the bad batch

[ancientwastedlores]

Undone by “Darling”

REQUEST (from @november-solarstorms​): Celebrating another year of this earth being braced by Tom Hiddleston's presence! Lol. Might I make a prompt request? I feel as though it would be interesting to read from Loki's POV to explore the dynamics between him and a human female who is just as intelligent as he. She has a sharp wit and even sharper tongue. Her sarcastic and clever nature enable her to out-banter Tony Stark, the king of snark himself (may he rest in peace). But she is also just as flirtatious and salacious. She never blushes, never falters, and is incredibly clever. You can decide the nature of their encounter. Really im just in it for a good game of cat and mouse.

A/N: Okay, I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!! And yeah, this will run a bit longer than my usual fics lol. Also, there IS a Loki POV, just keep reading thaaanks <3

WARNINGS: none. 

WORD COUNT: 1,932

____________________________________________________________________

Undone by “Darling” 

17 hours and 6 white chocolate mochas later, it was finally ready - an upgraded version of Corvus Glaive’s glaive, this one spec-ed out to your fancies and requirements. It was a beast, and definitely not something Nick Fury would ever let you play around with, even if you made it. 

Satisfied with your work, you remove your safety goggles and grin at Stark, who is working on his own weapon he scavenged from the Black Order. 

‘I’m done!’ you say triumphantly, causing him to look up and groan.  ‘How did you finish before me!?’ he lowers his glasses and looks at your weapon.  ‘I’m smarter’ you say.   ‘I went to MIT’  ‘And I didn’t, yet here we are, both in the same lab’. 

He shakes his head, not unlike a petulant child, causing you to laugh. 

‘How far along are you?’ you ask.  ‘Still running diagnostics’.  ‘Still!?’  ‘Have you seen the size of his hammer?’ he gestures to Cull Obsidian’s chain hammer on his work table, but the innuendo doesn’t escape you and you grin at him. He facepalms. ‘Y/n, for god’s sake...’  ‘You’re just tired, or you’d appreciate the joke too’. 

You stretch your weary body and let out a deep breath. You’d test the weapon out tomorrow, but for now, you need a nap. 

‘Take a load off, Stark. Hammer’ll be there tomorrow’.  ‘Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you...’ he puts his goggles back on and get to work. 

xx

Loki’s POV: 

Humans are surprising, but I always knew that. I never thought them boring, even if my brother says I do. Humans are of so little power but such incredible resilience that it’s frankly astonishing. I am inclined to believe that sometimes resilience is just stupidity... in most cases, I am right. But that’s not to say I haven’t come across some truly brave people. 

Take the Avengers Tower, for example. 

Just in here, you have Y/n, a brave soldier with the mind of an intergalactic scavenger, and I do mean that as a compliment. She’s awfully clever, she can build better than Stark, and has a track record of finishing every mission to perfection and before time. And then you have the Super Soldier Steve Rogers, a big muscled, big hearted idiot who often mistakes challenging our enemies for bravery and morality. 

The two couldn’t be more different, but they get along like siblings. Not siblings like Thor and I... better adjusted, perhaps. 

They sit in front of me, talking about some mission while they play Chess. Her moves are quick but calculated, his take more time because he’s more interested in telling his story than playing the game. 

‘...so there I am, no weapons, no shield, bang in the middle of the Serpent Citadel...’ 

He’s a good storyteller, I’ll give him that. But not as good as Y/n. She paints quite a picture, full of delicious gory details and horribly dark jokes. 

‘Steve, you have to pay attention, you’re losing’ she says.  ‘Yeah, I don’t actually know how to play chess, I just wanted you to listen to my story’. 

She looks up at him, almost offended. ‘STEVE...’  ‘Cool, I’m gonna go wrap Stark into a game of Battleships and tell him about my fight with Copperhead’. 

She laughs as he leaves the room, and she puts the chess pieces away. 

‘We could play?’ I ask her.  ‘Is the God in a mood to lose?’  ‘Over confidence isn’t attractive in anybody’. ‘Oh darling, neither is telling someone what is and isn’t attractive’. 

She’s never called me that before, and in the context it should seem cutting, but it isn’t. ‘Darling?’  ‘Problem?’  ‘It’s quite a term of endearment to set someone straight’. 

She says nothing. 

‘Cat got your tongue?’ I tease her. She only smiles and continues putting the pieces away neatly. Stark’s chess set is gold and black, all individually carved pieces. The pawns are all Iron Man suits, but that’s to be expected. She handles them with the care Stark would. 

‘I mean...’ I continue, ‘honestly, if someone heard, they’d never let you live it down’. 

And she carries on, unbothered. 

‘Y/n!’  ‘Oh dear, look at you come completely undone with just one term of endearment’ she comments, shutting the chess set. ‘Whatever would happen if I held your hand?’ 

The very thought of it seemed to drain my brain of blood. I unwillingly glanced at her hands, working the lock mechanism of the box, her blue veins prominent. 

‘Cat got your tongue?’ she asked. 

I stood up, the human emotion of embarrassment becoming too familiar for me. ‘I’ll have to see you at lunch’.  ‘Sure, darling’. 

Oh, I hate how she’s enjoying this. 

----------

The next day, Y/n booked a training room to test out the Glaive, and Stark had a rusty but working chain hammer. Steve insists on trying it out anyway, and now our breakfast is being spent on discouraging him from doing that. 

‘Guys... if nothing else, I’ll still have my shield. Let me test it out!’  ‘Y/n’s glaive cuts through Vibranium, you know that, right?’ Stark says.  ‘Y/n wouldn’t do that’. ‘Oh yes she would’ Y/n says nonchalantly as she sinks her teeth into a bacon and egg sandwich. 

As she does, the yolk runs down her fingers. She makes a sound at the inconvenience and sets the sandwich down, then grabs a napkin. I’m hardly ever crude, but the energy it took not to take her hand and lick off the yolk myself could burn every star in the galaxy. 

Captain America scrunches his nose at her remark, severely offended. 

‘In any case, that shield barely covers your giant body. It will force Stark to make you a new one’.  ‘What do you care about his giant body’ Stark says.  ‘It’s America’s ass, Tony’ she takes a sip of her iced coffee. Steve blushes, and Tony rolls his eyes. 

----------

The training facility is magic, of course, somewhere between a mirror dimension and Wanda’s reality powers creating a safe cocoon inside the building so no one can be harmed. Y/n hardly trusted anybody to fight with her except Thor, but given the nature of Corvus’ Glaive, she knew magic would be required. 

And so she called me. 

After getting into my battle armour, I stepped into the facility, equipped with my sceptre and the teachings of the witches of Asgard. 

She whistles as I walk in. ‘Trying to distract me from killing you?’  ‘Are you?’ I ask. She’s dressed in a black bodysuit, details of purple in her belt and weapon harnesses.  ‘Why yes, I am. Glad you noticed’. 

The glaive is on the floor, and she stomps her foot on one part of it so it swivels up and neatly places itself in her hand. She smiles. 

‘Try to keep up. I’m not just looking for eye candy in a training partner, darling’ she says, getting into battle stance. 

With nothing left to say for the second time this week, I aim the sceptre at her and the stone at the end glows. 

She charges and I shoot at her, but she spins the glaive and creates a shield which absorbs the energy. 

She continues to charge at me. I shoot again, and again the glaive takes the hit. Not a scratch on her. 

Once she comes closer, she simply places the flat end of the weapon against my chest, sending me hurtling back into a wall. 

She spins the glaive and laughs. 

‘Compliments of Wakanda. It absorbs any hits and charges up with kinetic energy’. 

I get up on my feet. This is far from over. I create multiple illusions to surround her, all of them brandishing knives, Chitauri tech, and sceptres. 

‘Damn, suddenly my whole evening has opened up’ she says, looking around.

Even my clones look around at each other puzzled. 

‘Come on then, who’s up?’ she spins the glaive around. ‘One at a time or all at once, baby’. 

They charge at her, and I expected her to fight them off at once... instead she plants the staff on the ground and ducks, and a semi-circle shell grows from the top of the staff, down to the floor... like a mini fortress, completely impenetrable. It could, no doubt, continue to take hits and build up kinetic energy, so I call off the clones. 

She gets up and retracts the shell. ‘Nanotech’ she grins at me. ‘The whole shell sits in a disk. It can withstand bombs and even a moon’.  ‘Is there any tech you haven’t adopted?’  ‘I’m an intergalactic scavenger, aren’t I?’ 

I stare at her, horrified. Can she read minds? 

‘Maybe I can. Or maybe I heard you tell Stark when he was complaining about me finishing my weapon first’. 

Silence. 

‘Also, darling, you’re awfully predictable in your fighting’. 

She picks up every trick and tech she sees, so beating her is less about weapons and more about cunning. 

No problem. Cunning is my specialty. 

‘Ready now?’ she asks.  ‘Mhm’. 

She takes a deep breath to ready herself, her eyes shutting slightly. Once they open back up, she stares in shock. 

In my Jotun form, I give her my most menacing smile.

She cocks her head to the side, studying my icy blue skin. 

The illusion I cast of myself approaches behind her, dagger in hand. Once it’s close enough and I can almost taste my victory, she raises the glaive and in one swift motion, sticks it into its abdomen. 

The illusion disappears into green light. 

‘Cute’ she remarks. She points the glaive at me. ‘What else you got for me?’  I shift back to my Asgardian form and sigh. ‘You win’. 

Y/n laughs and lowers her weapon. ‘Oh darling, I won the second you walked in wearing all that leather’. She winks at me, then walks out of the facility. I feel a blush creep to my face, much against my will. 

-------------

‘Maybe you should stick to your guns, Tony’ Y/n says, ‘Fancy suits is it for you, chain hammers may be overshooting it’.  ‘Is that what they taught you in the back alley you learnt ironmongery from?’  ‘Yes! Do you want their number, I’m sure they’ll have a spot on the waiting list for you’. 

Ah. Y/n’s relationship with Stark seemed more like mine with Thor. While they banter, Steve and Natasha tear up from laughing. I wouldn’t go so far as to call this domestic, but it certainly is comfortable. 

‘Come on, the glaive can’t be that good, right Loki?’ Stark asks. 

The company looks at me expectantly. ‘To say her weapon isn’t good enough means to insult your own tech, Stark. Everything about it is founded on your theories’. 

‘So technically, it’s my brain that made the glaive so cool’ he tells Y/n.  ‘Yeah, you could say that. The glaive comes from the same mind that manufactured Captain America’s dinner plate’. 

Steve doesn’t find that one funny, but Natasha does, sending her into peals of laughter. 

‘Oh whatever’ Tony huffs. ‘I’m going back to the lab’. 

He stands up and Y/n grabs his arm. ‘Aww Tony, I’m just kidding!’ she pats his hand, ‘Look, you’re a brilliant inventor, we all have our slow days’. 

He sighs and nods, and holds her hand. ‘Thanks... I guess I’m just not in my element, you know?’  ‘Yeah...’ she keeps patting his hand. 

And the feeling of domesticity creeps in. We really are all a family. Y/n smiles encouragingly at Tony, and Tony seems more relaxed. 

‘So, you want me to get you the number of that ironmongery, or...?’  ‘OH FOR...’ he snatches his arm away and storms out of the room, with Steve and Nat losing it all over again. 

___________________________________________________________

Ah this was so fun!!!!!!!! I hope you guys liked it <3 

MASTERLIST HERE

ASK BOX OPEN FOR FIC REQUESTS. Find GUIDELINES HERE.

#loki x you #loki pov #loki x reader #loki marvel #Marvel Avengers #avengers tower #avengers fluff #tony stark #loki fanfic #loki fluff #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston birthday #fic prompts

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter One: Lonely Together

Jack Kline x OC

Rated: PG

~I might hate myself tomorrow

But I'm on my way tonight

Let's be lonely together

A little less lonely together~

Sent: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

I smiled down at my phone before clicking it off and slipping it into my pocket. I didn't know who I had sent the message to. It was just a number I had punched in at random. I didn't expect anyone to reply.

Wrapping my dark green cardigan tighter around my body, I pulled my knees in closer to my chest and pressed myself closer against the wall of the bakery. The wall was only slightly warmer than the frigid air around me. It was December 2nd and icy gales were blowing in from Lake Superior and stinging the skin of the city's occupants.

The sky hung dark, low, and flat over Copper Harbor, Michigan. Copper Harbor was an itty-bitty town at the northern most tip of the northernmost part of Michigan. You know that piece of land that's only connected to the mainland by a highway, that in-between place that really should be Canada, but isn't? That's where Copper Harbor is and that's where I was.

Copper Harbor was the sort of town where newcomers and visitors are as common as flying pigs and are treated with about as much scrutiny. It's not one of those small, friendly towns just off the highway; the ones that are pleasant to find yourself in if you've taken a wrong turn. It's quite the feat to get lost and turn up in Copper Harbor, considering its miles away from anything and everything remotely interesting, unless you're searching for Bigfoot or a drunk Canadian that took a wrong turn. Though those two things might just end up being one and the same. No, nobody came to Copper Harbor unless they had a reason. That's just the sort of place it was. And aside from the mind-numbing cold, it was exactly the sort of place I wanted to be.

The clouds were so heavy with the snow that now drifted down, dusting everything in a layer of fine white powder, it seemed that someone standing on even the lowest rooftop could reach up and touch them. The snowflakes raining down from those clouds gave the appearance of tiny shooting stars. Many would have found the sight beautiful. I didn't. I just found it cold and somewhat depressing. Some people say that shooting stars are angels, falling to the earth to bless the lives of people in need. I've never liked those sorts of stories. The stars belong in the heavens. The dust belongs on the earth. Collecting in puddles, the sparkling, sugar-like ice crystals did nothing to ease the bitter cold. I shivered and coughed, my breath fogging in front of me.

I should have frozen to death hours ago.

But I can't die. At least, not that way.

Suffering, on the other hand, I can do that to no end.

I put my head between my knees, hoping to retain what little heat my walking corpse had to offer. I struggled to remain conscious. The story of the little-match-girl was playing in my head. I'd never liked that story's ending. Hallucinations really weren't my thing, especially hallucinations about things I tried not to think about, the things I tried to burry in the farthest corners of my mind. I had to distract myself, to think about anything that would keep me awake. The problem was, there was nothing to distract me.

Pling!

My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text. I grasped it quickly, greedy for a distraction, but I paused upon seeing the number displayed upon the screen. It was that number I had texted the Merry Christmas message to. Whoever it was had texted me back. I unlocked my phone and peered at the mystery person's message.

Received: 11:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

The message read. I smiled a little, surprised that anyone would care to return my quiet Christmas wish. The screen of my phone lit up with another message.

Received: 11:19 PM

Who are you?

The question was a simple one. Though tone can often be difficult to infer over written text, the question seemed to bear no hostility, only innocent curiosity. I thought for a bit about what to say, the answer was not as simple as the question had implied.

***

Located quite literally one thousand miles away from Copper Harbor, was the small, out-of-the-way town of Lebanon, Kansas. Now, in the outskirts Lebanon there was a hill. The hill was modestly sized and carpeted with thick grass painted with a layer of frost. Although it was a rather pleasant sight for some stray hiker to find, the hill was really quite unremarkable. That is, if you ignored the hulking steel door built into the side of it that looked like the entrance to a post-apocalyptic hobbit hole. See, built under that hill there was a bunker. It looked like any ordinary bunker if one can ever describe a bunker as ordinary. But inside this ordinary looking bunker, sat something rather extraordinary and his name was Jack.

Jack Kline was quite happy where he was. Sitting with his legs crossed on a chair beside the bunker's fireplace, Jack held Sam's beloved lap-top between his knees. Sam let him borrow it on the nights he couldn't sleep. Those nights were many. Sleepless nights were one of the many side effects of being half-angel, but he didn't really mind. Jack wasn't overly fond of sleep, not like Sam or Dean who adored the few hours they got. Jack would much rather be awake because if he was asleep then he couldn't observe. He liked to observe. He loved learning. He loved taking in anything and everything going on around him, soaking it all up like a sponge with legs. He especially loved to soak up a story. Epic ones with heroes that defeat powerful villains. Jack loved stories.

So, no; Jack Kline was not overly fond of sleep. No, Jack preferred to just sit quietly and watch those epic stories as they played out in front of him on the screen of Sam's lap-top.

Currently, he was watching Star Wars: The Clone Wars. The computer had said he would like it, and the computer had been right. He had just finished season 2 and had begun on season 3. Some small voice in the back of his mind told him he should slow down and draw the series out a little longer, but Jack just couldn't find the will to do so. This story was just too good to stop. Jack shoved a hand full of popcorn in his mouth as he pressed the play button on the next episode. He had managed to sneak several bags of popcorn from the kitchen and into the secret stash in his room a few nights earlier. It was perfect, except popcorn needed to be popped and popping the kernels without attracting notice was a bit of a challenge. But he found that if he popped them during the day, when everyone was clamoring about and busy with whatever, the noise from the popping kernels wouldn't peak any suspicion. The only downside to his strategy was that it left him with cold popcorn. Though this too could be remedied via his angel powers, if he was careful about it, he could warm up the popcorn undetected.

Now, don't get the impression that Jack was being starved, or held in this bunker against his will, or something awful like that. As was mentioned before, Jack was very happy there. The Winchesters, Sam and Dean, and the angel Castiel, lived there with him and took care of him. They were his family and Jack loved them. The only reason he had a secret stash at all was because Sam was the only one in the bunker who cared about the importance of having a somewhat healthy diet. Whereas Dean let the boy eat pretty much anything he wanted and Cas- well in Cas's mind food was food and that's all there was to it. But Sam didn't like it when he caught Jack eating what he referred to as 'junk food'.

Somehow, Sam always caught him.

"That stuff’ll rot your teeth, Jack!" He'd sigh, as he'd flip on the kitchen light and catch Jack eating cereal sometime around midnight. Then he'd look at Jack with a disappointed look on his face until Jack threw the cereal away and went back to bed. Jack hated it when Sam looked at him like that, he just couldn't bear to let the Winchesters down.

But Jack loved to eat. Eating was enjoyable as it brought with it something new every time. Yet more things to absorb and to experience. Although the younger Winchester disapproved of the more sugary foods; Jack liked those a whole lot more than the salads Sam tried to get him to eat. Jack didn't like the salads or 'Rabbit Food' as Dean called it. No, Jack liked popcorn a quite a bit more.

He smiled as he brought another handful into his mouth. Yes, Jack Kline quite enjoyed eating.

Plip! Ploop!

Jack's head swiveled away from the screen to stare at the phone laying face-up on the arm rest of the chair in which he sat. The screen was alight with a text message. He picked up the phone and unlocked it. The message read:

Received: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

That was all. Jack was quite confused; he didn't know that number. Who had sent the text? What should he do? Should he say something back?

Curiosity and caution struggled in a match tug-of-war in his head. He wanted to know who the message had come from. He wanted to know why that person had sent it. He also wanted to know why he had a strange feeling that whoever had sent the message was horribly sad. But would the Winchesters be mad at him if he answered? Sam and Dean had given him the phone just a few days earlier.

"For emergencies," Sam had said as he laid the device in Jack's hand before resuming his packing. Jack had stared at it, rather confused as to its purpose. Castiel had been off somewhere doing something and Sam and Dean had been leaving for a hunt, leaving him alone which Dean was completely and utterly against.

"Only for emergencies," Dean had stressed, jabbing his finger in Jack's general direction as he inspected various articles of clothing before tossing them into a duffle bag. "That means don't text or call unless someone is breaking in or you're dying!"

Sam shot his older brother a warning look. Dean ignored it and pulled a pair of socks out of his dresser, sniffing them briefly before making a face and chucking them to the other side of the room. Jack looked back down at the small black rectangle in his palm.

"Okay so, only text or call in case there's an emergency. Got it." Jack clinched the thin black box between his thumb and forefinger, carefully lifting it up as if it might explode in his face. "But, one question, if something happens like-like you said, like somebody breaking in or me dying, how-how would I do that?" He asked, looking back at the two brothers. They both froze their hasty packing and pivoted to stare at him, their eyebrows raised with disbelieving question.

"What?" Dean asked the young Nephilim. Jack shrank away a little, not wanting to upset the older Winchester.

"How do I text or call you? I don't know how to do that," Jack had timidly replied. Dean just shook his head and returned to over-stuffing the duffle. Sam, however, was much more understanding.

"That's right, you-you don't, do you?" Sam asked, realizing his mistake. Jack turned his attention to the younger of the brothers, shaking his head in an answer to Sam's question.

"Unbelievable," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. Sam shot him another glare which Dean merely shrugged off.

"Well, come on then, I'll teach you," Sam had said. Jack watched as Sam set the contacts and explained how everything worked. He showed Jack how to send a text, how to dial and answer a call, and all the other things Jack would need to know. Jack just watched him and took note of every little thing. Watching and replicating was how Jack learned best.

"Now, if I don't answer my phone, you call Dean. But if he doesn't pick up, I want you to call me again, if I still don't answer a second time, I want you to call this number right here. That's Jody Mills, she's a friend of ours and she'll help you, alright? You get all that?" Sam finished explaining and looked for Jack to confirm his understanding. Jack nodded.

"I got it!" He said, enthusiastically. Sam gave the young boy a nervous smile.

"You do? Can you repeat it back to me?" Sam asked Jack the question the same way Sam and Dean's father had always asked them.

"If something happens, call you, and if you don't answer, call Dean. If Dean doesn't answer then I call you again, but if you still don't pick up, then call Jody Mills." Jack repeated all of Sam's instructions perfectly, grinning proudly at the younger Winchester when he finished. Sam laughed a little, but nerves twinged his voice.

"Good, yeah. Okay," Sam paused, thinking things over, "You know what, Jack? If neither of us answer your call and it's really that urgent, don't bother calling me a second time. Just call Jody right away if you can't get through to either of us. Alright?"

"Alright!" Jack nodded, grinning. Sam nodded back, stiffly.

"Alright." He seemed like he wanted to say something else but didn't know how to say it.

"You two done in there, Sammy?! We gotta go!" Dean called, walking in from another room. Sam stood and looked at his brother.

"Uh, yeah. I think we're good," He took a few steps towards the stairs that lead up to the door before pausing and turning back to Jack, "We're good, right? You're gonna be okay here by yourself?" Sam asked again. Jack grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry."

Sam nodded and smiled with so much nervousness it almost hurt to watch.

"Okay, good. It's good. We're good," He said, nodding and trying to reassure himself more than anyone else. Dean raised an eyebrow at his overly anxious little brother, tugging his old leather jacket on over his shoulders, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he directed his remarks at Jack.

"Hey, kid. Whatever you do, don't do anything stupid," He'd said, half glaring, "We'll be back in a few days." Then they'd left.

Now, Jack glanced back down at the phone in his hands, remembering Dean's warning about not doing anything stupid. But his curiosity regarding the sender of the message was overwhelming. It couldn't hurt to text this person back, right? Was that what Dean had meant by his warning? Did this count as something stupid? What was the worst that could happen? Deciding that the benefits outweighed the risks, he texted back.

Sent: 10:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

Jack wrote.

Sent: 10:19 PM

Who are you?

No sooner had asked his question, he began to worry that he might have sounded rude. He waited with anticipation for the mystery person to reply. He didn't have to wait long.

Received: 10:20 PM

It doesn't matter, you don't know me.

I'm just someone wanting to give you a warm holiday wish.

Jack frowned. Again, he got the distinct feeling that the person on the other side of this conversation was deeply saddened by something. He desperately wanted to know what. So, he did the thing he did best. He asked and waited to see what would happen.

***

Received: 11:21 PM

If you don't know me, why do you care?

I don't mean to be rude. I'm just curious.

Why do this?

I read the person's question once, then twice, then three times and I realized that I didn't have an answer. Why did I care? Why was I texting some random person a Christmas wish? For all I knew, this person may not even observe the holiday. I had so many of my own things to worry about I was nearly drowning in them. I didn't know this person. I had nothing to do with them. So, why did I care about their holiday season? Why was I doing this?

I told myself it was just a random act of kindness. But deep down I knew what the reason was, and even if I didn't want to think about it, I felt it in my heart. I was doing this for the same reason I did everything. So, I took a few moments and came up with a reply.

Sent: 11:25 PM

I'm doing this because I believe that no one should ever have to be alone,

especially during the holidays.

I sent my reply and remembered to keep on shivering. I could hardly feel the cold anymore, I had gone almost completely numb. But I knew if I didn't keep moving, I would surely freeze in place and be unable to move until spring came. I vaguely wondered how cold it was. I remembered having heard on someone's car radio that this was supposed to be the coldest winter Michigan had experienced in the last decade. Though winter had only just begun, it was already cold enough for the district council to be suggesting face coverings to prevent citizens from getting frostbite and losing their nose.

I sneezed. I had no such face covering. Hell! I didn't even have a jacket! Let alone a coat or anything mildly warm. All I had was my oversized green cardigan, my black Star Wars t-shirt and my black jeans. That was it. Yet here I sat, outside a bakery in well below freezing temperatures, shivering myself into next decade.

I could go to a shelter. At least there I wouldn't have to endure the bitter biting of the wind as it gushed with double its normal force through these tight, abandoned alleyways. But if I went to a shelter then there was no chance of leaving undetected, I reminded myself. No, it was better to stay here, cold and alone, than to risk human contact.

I was pulled from my thoughts by another pling from my phone. Another message from that unknown contact.

Received: 11: 27

Are you alone?

Again, the question was simple. And although the mere thought hurt like a knife twisting in a fresh wound, I looked around at the dark, trash littered alleyway I sat in, watching the scattered rags of paper flutter and tumble in the winter gales, and I looked at the brutally beautiful puddles of speckled ice gathering along my body and melting on my skin, and I examined the bleak night sky, choked starless by the drifting dreary clouds; and the utterly silent stillness of the sleeping city revealed the harsh reality of my answer.

No one was here.

Nobody cared.

Not even the stars would keep me company. Because the stars never cared who I was.

So, with no reason to keep the truth hidden. I answered the question honestly.

Sent: 11: 29 PM

Yes.

Sent: 11: 30 PM

I am alone.

I was completely and utterly alone.

***

Received: 10: 30 PM

I am alone.

Once again Jack got the distinct impression that these words carried a heavy burden. It made him frown. What could he do to help a person he didn't even know? He wanted to ask this person if they had any friends, but something about those words told him the answer. When this person had said they were alone, Jack got the feeling they weren't just talking about the current moment. But maybe that's what this person needed. Maybe they needed a friend.

Sent: 10: 32 PM

Well, I'll be your friend and talk to you. There, now you're not alone anymore!

Jack smiled as he sent the text. The reply didn't take long.

Received: 10: 33 PM

Thank you.

You don't have waste your time on me but thank you.

It didn't take any special powers to read in between the lines this time, anyone could see the sadness in those words. Though Jack wasn't sure if it was his powers causing that strange feeling or if he was just imagining things.

Sent: 10:34 PM

I don't mind. Really!

Besides, I don't have anyone to talk to either.

Received: 10: 35 PM

Well, in that case, we can be lonely together!

Jack grinned. He'd made himself a friend. He couldn't wait to get to know them.

***

Received: 11: 36 PM

Since we're friends now, what's your name?

I smiled down at my new mystery friend's message. There was something about the words that made them seem innocent and earnest. It couldn't hurt to give my name, right? It’s not like he could find me. After all, I'm supposed to be dead.

Sent: 11: 37 PM

My name is Martina.

I sent my name and waited for the response. It came quickly.

Received: 11: 38 PM

I like your name Martina!

It's very pretty.

I flinched as I read the text. Something about seeing my name written in the text brought me back to a conversation with a different person a long time ago. It was a painful memory, and I didn't want to see it anymore. I didn't want another reminder of the still bleeding wounds in my heart. I remembered why I didn't let anyone call me that name anymore.

Sent: 11: 39 PM

Thank you.

But I would prefer you call me Marty.

I didn't want to be so sensitive to things like this, but I just couldn't help it.

Received: 11: 40 PM

Alright! I like Marty too.

It's a fun name.

I smiled; grateful they didn't ask why it was so important that they called me by a nickname.

Sent: 11: 41 PM

Thanks for understanding.

So, what's your name?

Received: 11: 42 PM

My name is Jack!

I grinned to myself. I'd made me a friend. I just couldn't wait to get to know him.

Sent: 11: 43 PM

Heya, Jack!

It’s nice to meet you!

I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Received: 11: 44 PM

I agree, Marty. We are going to be great friends!

Sent: 11: 45 PM

So, what's your favorite movie?

And just like that, we talked until the sun came up. And suddenly, for the first time in quite a while, I wasn't completely alone.

***

"Hey, uh, Jack? We're back!"

Sam's voice drifted in from just outside Jack's bedroom door. Jack was surprised. He hadn't heard the brothers come in which, for him, was quite peculiar.

The door creaked open and Jack hastily attempted to pretend like he hadn't been using the phone.

He failed.

Miserably.

The device slipped from his hand and he fumbled to catch it before it smashed against the grey, polished concrete floor. He let out a sigh of relief as he snatched it just in time.

Sam peered around the door, checking in on Jack, who was now hanging halfway off his bed and clutching the phone. Scrambling to sit upright, Jack gave Sam a half-panicked smile.

"Hi Sam!" He waved a greeting, shoving his phone behind his back. Sam raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He folded his arms and leaned back on his heels.

"Hey Jack," Sam seemed a little distracted, "Have you seen Cas?" He asked. Jack shook his head vigorously.

"He's not back yet," He answered. Sam nodded and started to leave before stopping and turning back. Only now seeming to notice Jack's odd behavior. Sam gestured at the phone hidden behind the boys back,

"So, what were you doing in here just now?" Jack's eyes flew wide as quarters and his gaze shifted rapidly around the room, focusing on anywhere but Sam. His mind was working overtime trying to find a viable excuse.

"Uhhhh...Nothing!" Jack tried; his brain had gone blank. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure about that?" Sam leaned forward a little, narrowing his eyes. Jack leaned back to match; his face scrunched up with the guilt he was trying very hard to hide. Everyone in the bunker knew how terrible Jack was at lying. He might be able to pass a few simple fibs by a stranger, but his family saw through him like he was made of glass. He couldn't deceive them. But that didn't stop him from trying, however.

"Yes..." Jack said slowly, his eyebrows pulling together in a rather sad attempt at looking sincere.

"Jack, what were you doing?" Sam asked more sternly. Jack looked at his feet and didn't answer. His shoulders moved up and down in a shrug.

"Do I have to go get Dean?" Sam pressed. Now Jack's head shot up. He stretched his hands out in a pleading gesture.

"No, no! Don't tell Dean!" Jack begged. Sam's expression shifted into one of concern.

"If you tell me, I won't tell Dean." Sam agreed, moving to sit on the bed beside Jack who shifted to give him some space. Sam waited patiently for the young Nephilim to speak. Jack kept his head down and rubbed his hands together nervously as he tried to think of how he should explain himself.

"Well, last night I was watching Netflix when I got this text from somebody wishing me a merry Christmas-" He started.

"Someone we know?" Sam asked, interrupting. Jack shook his head and continued.

"I asked them why they would do that, and they said it was because they thought that nobody should be alone this time of year. So, I asked if they were alone and they said, yes ─" Jack looked the younger Winchester in the eyes ─

"I don't know why but I just got this- this feeling, and they sounded just so sad, and now we're friends! But Dean said not to do anything stupid, and now I'm worried that I did! Are you mad?" Jack finished, worry coloring his features. Sam blinked. Once again astounded by the size of the half-angel's heart, he shook his head.

"No, Jack. I'm not mad," He said, softly.

"Really?"

"Really. I think you did a good thing. Everyone needs a friend." Sam patted Jack's shoulder and smiled. Jack looked down, grinning to himself as pride filled his chest.

Sam waited a moment before getting up from the bed. Stretching his back out and groaning a bit as he stood. It had been almost 48 hours since he last slept, and he was more than ready for a long nap. His hand rested on the doorknob and he paused a moment before turning back around.

"Hey, uh, Jack. Just one more thing. Do you by chance know this person's name?" Sam asked. Jack looked up briefly before looking back at the floor again, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up to stain his cheeks.

"It's, uh, it's Marty," He replied. Sam nodded and moved to leave again but he stopped. His eyebrows pulled down with confusion before he turned back.

"And uh, is that a boy's name or a girl's name? Do you know?" Jack turned his head a bit to the side and picked at a thread in his jeans.

"Does it matter?" He questioned back. Truthfully, it didn't. Sam wouldn't make Jack stop if he didn't want to. But to say that the boy's current evasive behavior didn't pique his interest, would be a lie. Though, the kid’s flushed cheeks told him quite a bit about the answer.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said, shrugging, "I'm just curious is all." The tall man watched the boy's reaction. Jack nodded and shifted as if uncomfortable.

"Marty's a girl." He answered, trying to force his voice into sounding nonchalant. And failing.

"Okay, cool." Sam nodded, turning around again, and reaching for the handle. Jack's head whipped around.

"Wait, Sam!"

Sam looked over his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Don't. Tell. Dean!" Jack stressed. Urgency was evident in his voice. Sam huffed a laugh.

"Okay, Jack." With that, Sam pulled open the door and walked out letting the heavy steel swing shut behind him. Behind the door, Jack sighed with relief. He'd dodged a bullet with that one.

Walking a ways down the hall, Sam got to Dean's room where his older brother was now unpacking. The younger brother leaned on the door frame and expelled the laughter he'd been holding on to since Jack’s room. Dean turned around, holding a pistol and a pair of weeks old and hopelessly blood caked socks in his hands, he faced Sam with a questioning look.

"What's got you so giggly all of a sudden?" The older of the brother's asked.

Dean glanced at the pair of socks in his hand. He grimaced at the stench and held them further away from his face, trying not to breathe. It didn't work. The socks odor was so pungent, Dean could smell them through his mouth. There was no hope of washing them. Nope, those things would have to be burned. Though, taking another whiff of them, Dean wasn't sure that even incinerating the socks would do him much good now. The stomach-turning stink would be branded into his memory forever. Sam straightened up, shaking his head of shoulder length hair.

"It's just something Jack said." Sam smiled and laughed again before taking notice of the unholy stench wafting off the socks. He coughed. "Dude, those stink. Bad!"

"Yeah, it's a sad day, Sammy." Dean nodded solemnly. Sam covered his nose.

"Why?"

"These were my second luckiest pair of socks."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, they're not anymore," Sam pointed out. Now, they were just rancid.

"I think we should give em' a Viking funeral, something to honor their service. I mean, I remember one time when I wore these things for two weeks straight!" Dean reminisced, grinning. Sam looked mildly disturbed.

"That's, uh... nice... But, uh, is there somewhere we could put them before the funeral? Because they, uh, they reek." Sam was trying hard not to gag and couldn't understand how Dean could be holding them and remain unaffected. Dean smirked.

"You wanna go put em' somewhere?" He asked, waving the socks into Sam's face. Sam leaned away.

"Ah! God! No! Put those things somewhere! Please!" He choked out. Dean just grinned and moved to the other side of the room. Grabbing a cardboard box from off the shelf, he shoved the socks in there and sealed the lid. The stench quickly began to dissipate.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"We're gonna have to burn that box too."

"Yup." Sam still felt a little sick but at least the socks were gone.

"So, what was it Jack said that you thought was so funny?" The older brother asked.

"Oh, uh, nothing. It was nothing," Sam said. But laughter began to creep up on him again. Dean rolled his eyes and went back to pulling more dirty clothing from the duffle bag.

"Are ya gonna stand there or are ya gonna spill?" Dean pushed. Sam sobered up again.

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell you," He said.

Dean shook his head, mildly annoyed. He knew Sam was going to tell him whatever juicy information he had gotten, just like he always did when he got that sly look on his face. Sam could be a bit of a schoolgirl that way. Except, of course, when it came to the important things, the things Dean was supposed to know. Those things Sam always kept to himself.

"Well, Sammy, if you ain’t gonna spill─" he used the gun in his hand to gesture from Sam to the duffle bag─ "get workin'."

The younger Winchester moved to the bag and started unpacking, grinning his face off all the while. Dean knew his little brother was waiting for him to ask about the thing with Jack again, so he said nothing. He just waited for Sam to look over to him eagerly, which is exactly what Sam did.

"So get this!" Sam started.

'Here it comes.' Dean predicted internally. Sam kept starring.

'Yatzee.' Dean thought. He knew Sam like the back of his hand. Actually, he probably knew his brother better than that.

"Apparently, Jack got a text from some random person last night wishing him merry Christmas. And, well, you know Jack! So he─" Dean stopped his brother mid-sentence.

"What's her name?" He interrupted. Sam looked confused.

"I didn't say anything about a girl," Sam trailed off. Dean sighed and shook his head.

"Geez, Sammy! If you love drama so much, you should go be an actor. You ain't foolin' anybody. We both know where this is goin' so just cut to the chase!" Dean sighed, opening a trunk and tossing in the gun he'd been holding along with several knives. His small outburst had startled his younger brother, but Dean didn't really care. Sam wasn't the only one who hadn't slept in 48 hours. Sleep was calling and Dean wanted nothing more than to answer. Sam frowned.

"Marty. The girl's name is Marty," Sam stated, sounding rather put out that Dean had guessed at his not-so-cleaver ploy. The older if the pair turned to the younger with a perplexed expression.

"Wait, wait. Marty?" He clarified. Amused disbelief written all over his features.

"Marty," Sam confirmed.

"Marty?"

"Yeah. Marty."

"Like the zebra in Madagascar, Marty?" Dean asked, grinning. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, like that. But remember, you didn't hear anything from me!" He answered, smiling as well. Dean laughed as he turned his attention back to the mess of clothing and weapons surrounding him on the floor.

"Yeah, whatever, drama queen." Dean rolled his eyes and kept working. The room was silent for a moment before the older Winchester burst out laughing again. He couldn't help himself; he found the subject hilarious.

"Ah, man. Marty! Now there's a name!" He exclaimed as he started folding the few clean clothing items laying in the pile. "What? Did her parents just take one look at her and say: 'Look at our beautiful baby! Let's name her Marty!'" Dean scoffed.

Sam snorted and shook his head at his older brother's bad joke. Then he leaned his head back and yawned.

"Man, I think we need some sleep," Sam sighed. Dean smirked.

"Is it your bedtime already?" He taunted, expecting a playful retort. But this time, Sam didn't argue. He just nodded.

"Yeah, I think it is." Though worried about his little brother, Dean held his playful smirk in place perfectly, just like he had been doing for so many years.

"Well, you go ahead and hit the sack. I'll finish up here." He said, easily. Even though he was just as tired and Sam was, he would finish out like always. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, o'course. There's not much left anyway." That was a lie and they both knew it, but Sam took the offer of sleep while it was on the table.

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome, Sammy."

Sam patted his older brother on the arm as he stood and left the room. Traveling down the corridor he got to his bedroom and was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Meanwhile, Dean mouthed the strange name of Jack's mystery girl and chuckled about it to himself. Sitting on the floor in his room as he continued folding the rest of the clean clothes, cleaning out all the weapons and putting everything back in its place. The chore took him two more hours to complete but when it was done, he stretched himself out and laid back on his bed.

"Marty. Now, that's hilarious." Dean snickered to himself as he drifted off to sleep.

~I might hate myself tomorrow.

But I'm on my way tonight.

Let's be lonely together.

A little less lonely together~

Lyrics from: Lonely Together by Jasmine Thompson

#jack kline x oc #jack kline #jack kline fanfiction #jack kline x reader #spn #spn fanfiction #superntural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #alexander calvert #alex calvert #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #jack is baby #the writing gets better #texting #jack kline humor #jack kline fluff #fluff #a little angst #dean being dean #my name is cas and i write stuff #fanfic #this is just the beginning #its gonna get good #i swear #thanks for reading #have a nice day

[chaoticvampirejedi]

*SLAMS OPEN THE DOOR TO YOUR BLOG*

I HAS A--

*door falls off its hinges and crashes to the floor*

*I stares*

Oh... Oh, dear... *whispering* Did I do that?

*everyone nods*

*nervous laughter* Heheheh... I am so sorry... I'll fix that later. *ahem*

I HAS A FEW QUESTIONS!!

1) What's Grim's worst fear?

2) What's Traitor's weirdest hairstyle ever?

3) What's the strangest language Scribe ever studied?

4) Does Fuss have any stories about any of his patients/brothers?

5) What is Verra's sweetest memory with ✨You-Know-Who✨?

There is no obligation to answer these if you don't want to, so please don't feel pressured! Also, I will fix the door to your blog. *goes to grab tools*

*stares at the door for a moment *

That's ok. This door was annoying anyway.

1) What's Grim's worst fear?

So what? You break my door and then ask about my son's worst fear? What's next? 🤨😂

Grim has had many different fears over the years, but it's hard to tell which one was the worst. Was he always afraid of losing or losing his brothers and friends? Yes, but on the other hand, he always knew he had to be prepared for it. But then, after Order 66, he began to fear it more. He has already lost so many people and he didn't want to lose anyone else. Especially since new people appeared in his life who weren't soldiers.

Losing loved ones is different for Grim the soldier during the Clone Wars, and different for Grim after the tragedy who now has a husband and tries to protect his best friend's son at all cost.

What's Traitor's weirdest hairstyle ever?

Most likely his natural hair 😂

I mean sure, clone hair's is perfect but for Traitor it would be something really weird to have a normal hairstyle.

And as for the weirdest Traitor hairstyle according to his vods...

It was probably neon pink green hair that glows a little in the dark. Though the strangest part was that he found the paint on a snowy planet with no store nearby.

What's the strangest language Scribe ever studied?

According to Scribe there is no such thing as the strangest language. He thinks that all languages are amazing but some of them are just more challenging than others. 😅

Does Fuss have any stories about any of his patients/brothers?

Yes, but he can't tell you about them, because then Traitor will tell everyone how wounded Fuss was throwing pillows at  wounded Grim and a medical droid because:

- Grim was injured and wanted to leave his bed

- The medical droid gently asked injured Fuss not to leave his bed.

5) What is Verra's sweetest memory with ✨You-Know-Who✨?

No. I don't know any You-Know-Who. Who is he? 👀

When he fixed her coat and signed it inside with blue thread.

Thanks for your questions! Talking about my OCs always makes my day 😁💚

#oc #star wars oc #clone oc #jedi oc #my oc #sw oc

[jt-artsandfics]

If you are still doing matches-ups could I get a match with the bad batch please :)

I'm 5'9", afab but go by any pronouns, in my early 20's, and pansexual . I have green eyes and freckles over my nose and white-blonde curly hair to about my jaw, I also have 11 piercings and a full sleeve tattoo on one arm, I'm also norse pagan.

I have a habit of just being absolutely chaotic to the point of near insanity, like constantly on my redneck yee yee trash (my nickname where I work is LITERALLY arsonist). I'm in the military in a I.T. related job but I'm really better with engines (I tend to help our mechanics deal with our equipment alot), and am a heavy machine gunner. I typically bake and paint in my off time. But I also do race the car I built and go to the range with my squad mates (or brunch with them, all of us really like food too lol).

(Sorry that felt so long!) Ty so much!~

I just wanna say before anything, your style sounds awesome AF, atm I'm trying to get part of my first sleeve done and pericings are amazing!. And stay safe my friend. And blessed be.

I Ship you with...

Crosshairs

Firstly with some of my head cannons for him.

- cross had albinism it defines him from alot of the clones and it's main reason he doesn't like Regs, back when he was a cadet he had to be separated on many occasions becuase of fights.

-reason the lights are dim on kamino in the bad batchs room is not just for hunter but also for Cross becuase he is very light sensitive and it's reason he wears his helmet alot.

-clones get tattoos as a way to define who they are and separate themselves from each other, while crosshair got his as more a pleasure, he looks very different from his brethren, he's very lean and thin and also his skin and hair.

So I like the idea that he has a tattoo/tattoos on his lower back it was something he saw and decided he wanted.

-Wrecker is the first one to figure out that crosshair likes you, he does keep it to himself for a little but then talks to crosshair about it.

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When crosshair first met you there's alot he doesn't know how to feel about with you. Your not a Reg but your also not just a civilian.

Crosshair isn't as grumpy as you would think when talking to you, he doesn't do it often but he also doesn't insult you. He does shot you a small smile hear and there as an acknowledgement,

He curious as to why your teamed up with them to begin with. But what really catches his eye is your ink. All the bad batch are fascinated with it the same as your pericings. He puts off along time asking about them becuase it could have just been something you liked like with his back tattoo.

Everyone on the bad batch has a nickname for you.

Hunter - Chaos

Tech - blip

Wrecker - bomber

Echo - nightmare

Crosshair - fire-fly

Cross loves watching you work from a distance weather it.be thought a scope or over a set of cards.

The first full convosation you had with him is when he found you baking, it was just a small inquiry about what you were making which lead into finding out the man had a sweet tooth for baked goods.

What gets him to fall for you is when he finds a small box with his name on it. He eyes it for a few minutes thinking it might be another one of Wreckers tricks. But curiosity gets the better of him and he opens it. He is kinda shocked to see the small arrangement of sweets.

After that the occasional one talk every two weeks became every one week until and continued until it was everyday. It never had to be about much could be just you asking how he was doing and he'd give a yes or no.

Physical intimacy is something he isn't used to but he loves having you run your fingers thought his hair. It a calming and sets him at easy.

He has a thing agaisnt Regs we all know this so he doesn't like when they get close to you. He will go on the defensive, stand really close to you, hold your hand or press a soft kiss to your temple.

The first person Cross does confind in is Echo, he took to him quite a bit when he joined. They annoy each other but they also talk the most to each other. Echo is the one who gives him the confidence to ask you out.

And your first kiss with him was hectic it was after a mission got messy. You came out with a small injury but crosshair was livid that you even got hurt. It's filled with alot of emotion.

"I'll be damned if I let anything happen to you"

"How touching"

"That's mine line"

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I hope you liked it!, writing this kinda made me really wanna give crosshair a hug. Man needs it.

#the bad batch #bad batch #bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair #crosshair x reader #star wars clones #star wars #star wars the bad batch

[a-crash-in-time-collection]

Chapter 6: What Was Left Behind

Snatcher felt his form began to shake as he turned the corner from the stairs, glancing into the dark hallway. He still remember back when he used to walk through these halls, talking with the servants or the former love of his life. Newspapers now littered these halls, black writing all across them. "Happily Ever After" "Princess" "Queen" and "Prince" were a few words he was able to point out.

The small footprints seemed to be heading straight to where the attic should be. That was good, he didn't want to be here trying to chase down who made them. Still, who in their right mind would willingly walk into this place. He did his best to ignore the faint, ice chilling laughter he could hear from under him, going through into the room on his left. Just find out who it is, and get out.

More newspapers and black writing filled the walls as he slowly floated through the rooms, the only different thing he saw being a large bit of blue and green near some switches. He just ignored it, focusing on getting to the attic and getting out. He floated over to the attic door... only to see it was locked. There wasn't a key nearby... how the person got past was beyond him. Looks like he was going to need a key...

He sighed as he floated to the room behind him. Knowing Vanessa, she likely kept the key high up, outside the reach of a normal person- he let out a shout as he saw the red eye staring at him. He braced himself for the icy chill, but nothing happened. He slowly took a second look, finding it to be a painting of sorts. Underneath were some words, a few were hard to read, but he did his best to make it out.

"I" Bad hand writing "it was" More poor handwriting. "I just didn't want you to get" He couldn't tell if the next word was 'unbound' or 'sunburned'. He didn't know which he would consider more worrying. "All I asked was for you to never leave this house."

How did he not see the signs sooner? Expecting him to never leave the house? Didn't she know that would have killed him sooner?

He sighed slightly, floating into the room he first came in from, glancing to his right. He found himself glancing up after catching the words 'Prince AJ' on a random newspaper, and paused slightly. Another sentence was written above him, although he was half tempted to believe they were carved into the wall itself. Ice witch had the claws to do so now, after all. He floated up to get a better look.

"My prince, I'm sorry what happened to your house. If'' Vannessa decided that was the perfect place to write another 'Happily Ever After' message, make those words impossible to read. "it then neither will I."

"My house?" He asked himself, tilting his head to the side slightly. He lived in the manor since he was a child... right? His memory of life was fuzzy. He shook his head, he wasn't here to dwell on the past. He floated back into the main hallway, heading into the door across from a TV on a dresser. This would be a great place to surprise some poor soul...

He shook his head slightly. Many died in this place, including himself. The last thing he should be thinking of trying to get the jump on someone. He floated into the room, then headed straight to the room across from there. He glanced to his left, seeing two bookcases full of books on the wall. The key was up there, out of any normal humans' reach. Luckily, being dead meant he could just grab it even if he was short.

He grabbed the key, and floated into the door closest to where he currently was. The third floor was supposed to have more in it... right. He was pretty sure his bedroom was up here, at least. With how empty it was, you assumed this would be where she kept most of her frozen victims, but he had yet to see one. He floated to the door that was the exit to that room, glancing up. Another message, this one perfectly clear.

"The prince loves the moon so much. MAYBE HE SHOULD MARRY IT! THEN MAYBE HE CAN GIVE ME MORE ATTENTION!"

He stared silently for a brief moment. The entitlement of this woman... he crossed his arms with a huff. "Well maybe I should have." He stated, shaking his head as he headed back to the attic door. Bacon, the freaking moon!? At this point she likely would have ordered the death of his own family just because he also happens to love them!

He sighed slightly, looking down at the ground as he put the key in the lock, which allowed him to remove said lock. He floated up the stairs silently. He still remembers when they first met when they were young. She was so much sweeter back then... more true to her word. She seemed more fit to rule a kingdom back then.

As soon as he entered the attic, a calming aura greeted him. Like this was the safest place in the whole building. Like it wasn't possible for that demon to get to him... He soon spotted the footsteps that lead him here, coming from a hole in the nearby wall. They kept marking the floor, until they stopped. Stopped in front of the chest in the middle of the room. He glanced too it, slowly floating over.

"Clever hiding place..." He commented to himself. The chest didn't move. He couldn't even here breathing. Maybe whoever it was died while hiding? It would be a shame, do so well avoiding a chilling fate only to die from something as simple as a panic attack. Made him chuckle at the idea.

He heard something. It was barely above a whisper, but he heard it. It sounded like a whimper, or something similar. It had to be the person, or thing in the chest. Oddly enough, that small whimper sounded familiar. He couldn’t place where... "Hey, miss ice witch is downstairs. It's just the two of us. No reason to be hiding away from me." He tried sounding friendly. Maybe he could lure this soul into giving said soul to him later.

"Y-You won't hurt me?" The voice made him on guard. It sounded so... innocent. So familiar. Again, he couldn't place where. It was small... weak. Like it was scared to make any sound.

"Of course not!" Snatcher waved a dismissing hand. He jolted slightly when he heard a creek in the background, afraid he may have just alerted his ex to where he was. But a glance behind showed no one was there... Although it did remind him of the creepy choice in a paint job. Yes, the tale of Moonjumper was a big thing in Subcon, but... he shook his head, giving a reassuring smile to the chest. "Why would I hurt you?"

"I-I saw you, taking some of the icey people away a bit ago. I-I thought you were working with evil lady.." The voice was still shaky, but it seemed to calm down. He could see movement in the chest lid, a little huff as the figure inside opened it slowly. Snatcher watched in curiosity.

Two bright yellow eyes were the first thing he noticed, staring at him in a bit of worry. They were partly hidden behind purple- no, black, no both hair? It was pure black, or close to it, but it glowed purple near the edge. The same could be said for the edges of her face, hands, sleeves, cape, and hat. Her hair also features small little swirls. Her mouth could be clearly seen as one yellow glowing line.

Snatcher didn't know what to make of the sight. This shadow, she looked exactly like Hattie back when she first stepped foot in the forest! Only she looked exactly like him at the same time. The tears dripping down her face where even the same yellow his own eyes would be. Not that he ever cried to find out about that fact.

"What... but how." The child tilted her head in confusion at his words. Snatcher was trying to rack his brain about the whole thing. The only things that ever looked close to this was when he turned into copies of the kiddo to throw her off when they fought. "What's your name? How did you get here? Why are you..."

"I don't know..." The shadow copy looked down slightly, messing with her hands slightly. Similar to what he did whenever he was reminded of those death wishes. Or when he was hiding something in general. "I just... woke up here one day. I've been hiding from misses bad queen ever since..." She seemed to cuddle herself at the thought of the lady.

Snatcher tried to think of how something like this could be possible. She just woke up here one day and just been stuck here? It didn't make any sense. Unless the Hat Girl downstairs was a clone and the real one died by Vanessa's hands, a ghostly version of her should be impossible. A ghostly version that had to run and hide all it's life... like a puppet in Vanessa's show. "Is there... any place or thing you know outside of here?"

The child shocked her head slightly. "No... The only thing I've ever known from the outside is... you." She glanced at his confused expression. "I've seen you about.. this many times before." She held out her hand, showing two up on one and all five up on the other. "Well.. actually this counts... so.." She lifted another finger.

"My yearly trips to the manor..." He didn't notice he picked up the child until she made a small noise of confusion or fright. His body just sort of.. did it on his own. "Seven times... The exact amount of times since she was last here..." He looked down at the child, who was confused by his words. He tried to think of what could have happened to create such a small, adorable...

He recalled watching Hat Kid fight that annoying toilet. Many would assumed he lied about her soul being inside to make her more willing to do the dirty work. But the soul actually did get stuck inside. Still, he wasn't going to deal with it himself. He recalled seeing a faint bit of purple and yellow, like her soul, dash away at one part. He assumed it was a trick of his eyes because the toilet was still bouncing around....

"Are you ok, Mister Noodle?" The young voice, just like the girl's but with a faint echo called up to him. He glanced down at her, and somehow he knew there was sorrow in his eyes. This soul, or a piece of one, has never known anything outside of this prison. That was a fate he wished on no one.

"Oh, I'm fine! It's you I was worried about." He covered his mouth slightly. Did this piece of a soul have some sort of ability? He was just... drawn to her so fast. He slowly removed his hand, giving her a soft smile. "Seven years... I left you here so long..."

"Please don't feel bad!" She was waving her hands in the air, as if to enfenzise her point. "It's my fault, really. I always hid when I saw you... you were a bit scary to me... I didn't want to risk you being bad like her..." She held her head down in shame, garbing her cape and wrapping it around her slightly. It was more pinkest near the bottom, and was torn with holes... was it originally like this or did something happen...

Snatcher and the shadowy child both jolted slightly. There was the sound of some sort of crash downstairs... Snatcher nearly forgot about Hat Girl and Platinum. He needed to go down there and get those two out... maybe the parents as well if they weren't ice statues by now. "Well, I'm not making the same mistake again..." He glanced down at her. "I can take you away from here, would you like that?"

The child let out a gasp in surprise, and a bit of joy. "R-Really, you mean it?" her mouth formed a smile, showing off two little fangs. Just like his own... his own... "I-I would love that! I-I wanna be away from the evil queen.." She then frowned. "But.. The door is locked..."

Snatcher let out a chuckle at that. "She used all the locks she has for doors inside of this place, the fool. It's just some snow blocking the front door. All I have to do is give it a shove and we're home free!" He looked back down at her, seeing she had grabbed a small bit of his mane-thing, as if exsaming it, then reaching for her own neck. "A little funny how we both look so similar, huh kiddo?"

"Kiddo?" The child repeated, pointing to herself slightly. She seemed to be confused by a lot, to which he couldn't blame her. All Vanessa likely did was have whiney fits or shout at her prey. Likely didn't teach the kid a lot. "My name is kiddo?"

Snatcher glanced at her silently for a moment, taking in her statement.

"Did I... say something wrong?" The small shadow asked, tilting her head to the side. She didn't show anymore sights of fear, which was good in his eyes. She was just... naturally confused. He couldn't blame her. If their roles were reversed, he probably would be asking the same questions the little shadow kid was asking. Little... Shadow Kid. "Hey, are you alright? You were... staring blankly for a few moments there."

Snatcher looked down at her with a smile. "I'm fine, Shadow Kid... do you like that name? I think it fits you." He couldn't help but poke at her nose slightly, the ghost child letting out a giggle when he did so.

"Shadow Kid... it's perfect!" The child- Shadow Kid bounces in his arms slightly. She looked up at him with a toothy smile. He could see hope in her eyes, likely the first time they ever had it. She held onto him as he began to float to the exit for the room. "What's your name, mister noodle man?"

"Well, I have many names from the locals around these parts." Snatcher said, a bit of a smug tone in his voice. He had to be quiet though, as he floated back into the third floor, knowing Vanessa could very well be nearby. And the last thing he wanted was to get them both caught when he just promised the young girl freedom. "But the name I personally go by is, The Snatcher. I'm basically the true ruler of subcon." He chuckled at the child's awe.

-------

Platinum held his breath, although he didn't need to breath in the first place, as he pushed himself into the corner. The red and black Elsa being slowly walked down the stairs passed him, a growl in her voice. Lighting stuck outside as he held back a shout, running up the stairs as soon as it was safe. "Hattie!" He whispered-shouted, hoping his sister was alright.

And fell to his knees at the sight. Near a dresser in the hallway stood an ice sculpture. One who bore a familiar ponytail. Her face seemed to be gone, ice covering all it's details. "No...NONO!" Oil tears fell down his face as he raced to the being that was once his sister. She was.. she was dead. Dead and it was his fault because he screamed at the lighting-

There was a tiny crack sound, and then ice flew off the girl's body. She let out a slight gasp as she caught some air, the tip of the nightcap swaying side to side faintly. "It's been too long since I last used an ice hat." She shrugged and looked at her brother, who still had some tears going down his face. "What do you think? Pretty neat."

"I thought you died!" Platinum hissed, trying to stay as quiet as he could as to not alert that creature back up here. He couldn't feel angry from much longer, because another crash of light from outside had him pulling Hat Girl into a hug, shaking slightly. "P-Please don't scare me like that again." He begged, feeling a few gentle pat on his back before she stepped away. "We need to get our Dads, find Snatcher, and get out now."

"You're right. But we need to be careful when we go to leave." With a snap of her fingers, her backpack appeared. She slung it over her shoulder, placing the cap inside once it was open. She then pulled out her mask and headband, placing them on her head gently.

He tilted his head slightly, letting out a brfit giggle. "You look a little funny in that." He stated, Hat Girl rolling her eyes at the statement. The two quietly stepped into the bedroom. She noticed the Mafia Goon was still frozen on the floor, but the closet was back up. Platinum seemed to take note of the closet too, walking over.

She walked behind him, trying to stay quiet. She knew it was likely safe, but she didn't want to risk Vanessa having set up some sort of trap inside it. "Stay behind me." She whispered, pushing her brother back behind her. She could faintly hear something within now that she was closer. With a histiate breath, she swung open the closet door.

Two quick shouts met their ears, and a laser blaster was pointed at them. She looked at the two men, who allowed themselves quick breaths of relief, the cybrog's blaster turning back into a normal hand. "Hattie! Platinum! Oh that was you we heard! What are you doing here?" Reginald asked, hopping out of the closet and hugging the two. Right Hand Man hopped out beside him, although he simply glanced at them.

"Looking for you, clearly!" Platinum stated.

"Ya s'ouldn't 'ave come. We would 'ave gotten ourselves out sooner or later." Right Hand Man stated, shaking his head slightly. Although he and Reginald glanced at each other faintly. The two had faintly heard the kids voices, and knew they had to act sooner or later. They kept fighting about what would be the best way. Mostly because all of the ideas involved sacrificing themselves. Great minds think alike, the saying goes.

"You're right... but you're not hurt, right?" Hat Girl asked, beginning to take a closer look in worry. That's when she saw the crystal-like blue over the cybernetic side of RHM's face. "Papa, your eye! What happened?!" She asked.

Right Hand Man sighed, holding his lover's hand as the group began to leave the room. "Well, we just came out of t'at beer pool place, talkin' about t'e work it will take to drain it out, w'en t'at red mist demon appeared. I tried firin' my laser eye at it, but it just touc' t'e blast 'nd turned t'e laser to ice!" He threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Luckily it only got to my eye before I broke free, t'en we 'id in t'e closet."

"Out of all the places, why the closet?" Platinum asked, a faint smug look on his face. The cyborg rolled his only visible eye.

"There you two... four are" Snatcher called, floating over to the group as they got to the stairs. Hat Girl noticed he seemed to have something close to him, but couldn't make out exactly what it was right now. "Ohh, so your parents aren't human popsicles. Well, isn't that great news!" He let out a chuckle, before noting the glare from the cyborg. "What?"

"Well, at least you brought someone with you..." Reginald sighed, offering the ghost a faint smile, and said ghost simply shrugged. As soon as they stepped onto the first floor, the group paused, they didn't see her, but they knew Vanessa was nearby. They quickly raced under a nearby table as Vanessa entered the hall.

"What are we going to do?" Platinum asked, glancing at where the front door was. "We need to get there, but she'll get us." He glanced back at Hat Girl, who seemed to glance at her hand. She made a small tap at the tips of her fingers, and with a faint green glow, a small stack of cash magically appeared in her hand. "Wait, how did you-" He would have let out a yelp as the thunder came, but Right Hand Man was quick to cover his mouth.

"Get ready to run... or float in Snatcher's case." She said, she glanced at the floor brefitly, trying to find a place to throw the cash. That's when she noticed something... odd. Two shadows were coming from the queen's being. One was of the monster she had become, the second being a reflection of her human self... She shook her head, she couldn't let that distract her. She threw the cash into the kitchen, it blowing up upon impact with the floor.

"AH HA! I FOUND YOU~" Vanessa called, walking past the table they were under, into the kitchen.

"Quick." Right Hand Man whispered, racing to where the front door was. The group falling, Snatcher placing something... someone? He placed whatever on his back as he slammed his arms into the doors, bursting them open. They could hear a growl from behind them. "Run!" He held Reginald's hand, as they began to run down the path they came. They could all hear footsteps behind, the queen's rage was in the air.

"Stay back!" Hat Girl called, garbing her umbrella as they passed the dweller bell, slamming it once she passed by.

Vanessa reached out to freeze them all where they were standing, as a warning to any more cockroaches that dared to go into her home. But it simply slammed agesist that cursed purple wall. She let out a shrike of rage. "I'll get you! No one comes across my path, tries to take it away, and leaves alive!" With a huff, she began to return to her home.

The group was silent, all staring at the purple wall in worry the Queen would somehow break through. It was only after a full minute of silence did they allow themselves to truly relax. They all headed to the bridge, Snatcher picking up the teens as he floated across while Right Hand Man held his Husband close as he did the same. Hat Girl sat on the ground, allowing herself to catch her breath, looking at the snow filled land.

"I'm never going back there again." She stated, and hoped this time it was true. She then glanced over at her parents, the ones who took her in, the ones she just put in danger. "I'm sorry. I should have told you about the manor. I should have... It's..."

"No, before you say it's yer fault, it's not." Right Hand Man said, kneeling next to her and placing a hand on her shoulder, brown eye staring into her sky blue ones. "S'ould've asked ya about t'e place first, I was just in a rush to get some sort of s'elter I didn't t'ink too." he looked at her, giving her a soft smile. "T'e cold wasn't helpin' my thought process either, at the time."

"But it isn't your job to look into the details." Reginald sighed, walking up to them. "I should have known something was off."

"And I guess I shouldn't have screamed when the lightning flashed. But I had every right to be afraid!" Platinum stated, stopping a foot ageist the ground as he pointed to the others, who just gave him a confused look. He was silent for a moment, before sighing. "I.. Thought we were all blaming each other so I decided to join." He looked back at them, smiling as he heard Hat Girl chuckle.

"Well... I'm just glad we're out..."

"Out... Out!" Shadow Kid called happily, hoping off the phantom's back as she fell on the floor. The group glanced over at the sound of the young voice, and found themselves staring in shock at the young girl. She spun around in a slight circle, smiling brightly. "I'm out! It's so pretty being out! Ooo~, what's that loopy thing!"

"W'ot in t'e-" Right Hand Man stated, causing the shadow to glance over, then hide behind the phantom. Must be one of those excitable yet shy types. He glanced up at Hat Girl, hoping she could offer some sort of answer. But she was looking at the creature with the same confusion he had. He turned back to Snatcher, giving him a questioning glare. "Excuse me, g'ost. But can you explain w'y t'ere's a copy of Hattie?"

"Oh, it's quite simple. And please tone it down, you're scaring her." Snatcher said, giving the cyborg his own glare. "I believe she's a part of the kiddo's soul, broken off and taken its own form in the manor. Hat Girl must not have noticed she left it behind..." He picked the shadow child up.

"Well, ain't she the cutest little thing!" Hat Girl gasped, racing over to the purple figure. The child flinched at first, but then looked at the teen in curiosity. The two looked so similar, as to be expected considering they were two of the same soul. She even had the same type of clothing she would wear when traveling all over this planet. "Heya little one! I'm Hat Girl. You.. sorta came from me!"

"H-Hello... I'm Shadow Kid." Shadow Kid introduced herself, and Hat Girl couldn't help but let out an 'Awwww'.

"You're one of the most innocent things I've ever seen in my life." Reginald said, smiling as he walked over to the small group. He patted her on the top of her head, being careful not to knock off the hat, smiling at the giggles he got in return. "It's nice to finally get to meet you, Shadow Kid. Say.. how would you li-"

"No, Reg. The answer is no." Right Hand Man quickly stated, crossing his arms to show his point. Reginald let out a huff, while Hat Girl and Platinum both glanced at each other, shaking their heads. Shadow Kid tilted her head in confusion, as Snatcher held her close. "Platinum 'nd Hat Girl are enoug'. We talked about t'is, no more kids."

"But she's a part of Hattie's soul, so technically we would still only have two kids!" Reginald claimed defensively. Snatcher found himself warping his tail around where Shadow kid was, looking down at her slightly. He watched her garb his tail slightly, holding it close like it was some sort of blanket. She just seemed so lost about what they were talking about. "Besides, look at her! We can't just leave her all alone!"

"T'e answer is still no, Reg. We already had to deal wit' 'er chaos as a child, I'm not relivin' all t'at." Right Hand Man stated firmly.

"But Rightttyyy..." Reginald was just a kid asking for a puppy at this point. Platinum let out a slight chuckle as he watched. While it would be great to have a new sister, even he was able to see now wasn't the best time to be adopting someone. He found himself glancing over to where Snatcher was, seeing a thoughtful look in his eyes. "Where else would she have to go? We can't make her go back!"

"I could take her."

Reginald glanced over, a bit confused. "What?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. Right Hand Man gave the ghost a confused look, although there was a form of relief that could be seen in his visible eye. Hat Girl looked at them both, then smiled as she looked back at the two purple beings. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, she appears to be more ghost then living, breathing human." Snatcher said, waving his hand as if taking someone in wasn't a big deal. "She has stayed the same age for Seven years, after all. It would be best for her to be near creatures more like herself. Besides, look at her! She looks like a mini me in the shape of the kiddo!" He grinned slightly. "It only makes sense if I let her stay at my place."

"So... basically yer adopin' 'er?" Right Hand Man asked. He watched the ghost gain a bit of a blank face, processing his exact words. "Ye were basically sayin' ya were goin' to be 'er parental figure, after all."

"You're adopting me?" Shadow Kid asked, looking up at the Prince's ghost slightly. He looked down, processing could still be seen happening in his eyes. Then he gave her a soft smile, and nodded. She gave her own smile in response, nearly hoping out of his hands in joy. "Yay!" She clapped her hands slightly, before pausing and looking back up at him. "Wait, what does "adopin" mean." She was confused when the others giggled at her accent imitation.

"Well..." Snatcher let out a bit of a nerves laugh, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand as he tried to think of what to say. He never thought he would say these words to anyone. "Well, you see how Hattie has her two Dads?" He watched as Shadow Kid glanced over at the two man, Reginald waving slightly, before looking back at him. "Basically, me adopting you means I'll be your Dad. Or Papa or Pops, whatever you wanna call me."

Shadow Kid gasped in joy, hugging him. "My heart-'' Platinum called from the side, grabbing his chest.

Reginald gave a small smile to the two. "Well, I'm glad you two have each other now." He let out a sigh, then glanced at his daughter, who smiled brightly at him. "Well, I suppose we should be returning to the orbital station. The clan must be worried about us. And we need to get to work removing the ice from Righty's eye."

Snatcher glanced back at the cyborg, and had to hold back a laugh once he finally noticed the ice covered eye. "Well, I have to find a place for Shadow Kid to sleep anyway. Along with letting the village know of her arrival." He gave the small shadow a boop, watching her giggle, before he turned away from the group. "I'll see you later, Kiddo and Platinum! Preferably when I find a spell to turn the manor's walls into bacon!" with a laugh, he raced into the woods, gone from sight.

"See you!" Hat Girl called, waving her hand quickly. She heard a sigh, and Reginald passed her as the group began their trip back to the orbital station. She walked up to her Dads, a bit heistaite. "So… you guys aren't grounding us right? You guys aren't mad, right?"

"I'm too tired to really be mad." Reginald stated honselty, wrapping an arm around his lover's shoulder. He glanced at the two. "I won't ground you, since we may not have gotten out of it wasn't for you, if we're being honest."

The two teens looked at each other, giving each other a high five with a chuckle. "But," Right Hand Man's stern tone cut them off, bringing their attention to him. "Know t’at unless we find ourselves in a deat’ trap again, you doin’ anythin’ that could put you in ‘arm’s way again will result in groundin’. Is t’at clear?" He watched the two nod at his words, and only then he allowed himself to relax.

"I still wish we could have kept Shadow Kid..." Reginald sighed, as Hat Girl let out a small giggle at his words. She found herself staring into the woods of Subcon, a smile on her face.

Vanessa was the worst, so that meant the worst had to be behind them. Right?

#a hat in time #the henry stickmin collection #a hat in time fanfic #thsc fanfic #ahit snatcher #queen vanessa #dadtcher #shadow puppet #tw past death #tw past trauma #topbot #hat kid #hat girl #reginald copperbottom #right hand man #copperright #adoption

[yeenybeanies]

A Little Lost

it’s star wars day!! what a fine day to have my heart torn from my chest with the clone wars finale :’) WELL THIS IS VERY OLD LMAO it’s been in my drafts since may 4th i did not proofread this & i probably will not do so until tomorrow EDIT i have proofread it & made my tweaks & it is Good To Go :>

star wars | rex & pomfree ( oc ) 

4,395 words

mild language warnings

reblogs > likes!! feel free to leave comments in the tags!! thanks!!

Breathe! Air and dust and dirt rush into his lungs. The clone jolts, consciousness returning like a punch to the face. If only it was a simple punch that knocked him out, though. That would have been way less painful . . ..

Soft grunts and groans fill the air as the clone trooper pulls himself from the him-shaped indentation in the dirt. He can still stand. He can move his arms and his back and his neck. Nothing seems broken ( miraculously ), but everything is sore regardless.

“ This is Captain Rex; can anyone hear me? I was––– ”  static. He looks down to the comlink on his forearm, all the buttons smashed and broken. Useless. He grimaces, then turns his attention to the surrounding jungle. Where is he? Where’s the ship? . . . Where is his helmet? A cursory glance at his immediate surroundings shows no signs of the blue-painted headgear.

Rex stands up with a final groan and takes a few steps, searching for signs of––well, of anything. Smoke, blaster fire, voices, tracks . . .. The ship was going down, and he fell out of it before it crashed. Surely it’s not too far off. He curses a little under his breath; the jungle canopies of this planet are too damn high and thick for him to be able to see anything more than a few feet away. The only option now, as far as he can see, is to start walking in the direction he thinks the ship landed in.

“ Hello? Anyone out there? ”  Even cupping his hands around his mouth doesn’t help his yells travel very far. The jungle is tight. It’s a hassle just to walk around. Rex grumbles as his boot catches on a ground vine for the umpteenth time. He hasn’t tripped yet, but––ack! Spoke too soon. Just seconds later, he’s snagged again, and falls forward, onto his hands and knees. Teeth clenched, the trooper slams a fist into the spongy jungle floor, allowing his frustration to vent for just a moment. How the hell is he going to get out of this one?

Calm. He needs to be calm. Getting mad isn’t going to solve anything. ( Blast, he sounds like a Jedi. ) Rex takes a breath and tugs his foot free yet again. He shifts himself into a crouch, runs a hand over his short, blond hair, and tries once more to assess his surroundings. In every direction, there is just more jungle. But––oh? He catches a glimpse of white amidst all the green undergrowth to his right. One brow raised, Rex pushes his way through the brush to investigate. He parts the vines and leaves and finds . . . yes! His helmet! At least something is going his way in this god-forsaken jungle. Rex leans forward to pick the familiar item up, silently praising that he managed to stumble across it ( literally ). As he brings it to his head to put it on, though, a startled cry makes him jump. Rex looks up to see a little . . . creature dangling from the helmet lip. It screams when it looks at him, and he yelps right back, immediately dropping both it and the helmet. The latter clatters to the jungle floor, but the former––unexpectedly, the former drifts down in a much more controlled manner, gliding on thin membranes––or perhaps clothing––between its arms & legs. It lands a few feet away and stares up at Rex, eyes wide.

What the hell?

Rex stares back for a long moment. It . . . isn’t running away. It’s not attacking either, though. It’s a curious-looking little thing. It looks almost human, though significantly smaller––maybe five, six inches tall at most. Slowly, tentatively, Rex kneels down to retrieve his helmet, though he doesn’t take his eyes off of the creature.

“ Easy now . . . ”  he says, hoping to placate any potential hostilities.  “ Not gonna hurt you. I’m with the Grand Army of the Republic. ”  Hell, he doesn’t even know if the damn thing speaks Basic.

“ You are a clone. ”  Ah. So it does speak. Rex blinks, a little surprised, but nods his head. The creature looks up, way up to the high canopies.  “ You came from the crashed ship? ” 

“ Huh––erm, yeah. Yeah, I, uh, fell out of it. Did you see where it landed? ”  A spark of hope flares up in his chest. This little critter might be the key to finding his comrades!

They shake their head––a gesture that nearly goes unnoticed due to their size.  “ Knocked me down from the top when it came through. Best way to see would be . . .. ”  They point up. This time, Rex follows their gaze, confused. 

The top? This thing was at the top? The trees have to be a couple hundred feet high! How could they have gotten all the way up there? So many questions flood the trooper’s mind, but he shakes his head. Focus.

“ I gotta climb all the way up there? ”  The very thought is daunting. ( Really, how could something so small make it up there? ) Rex gives the creature a disbelieving look, but they just nod right back at him.

“ It is the best chance, ”  they assure.  “ I need to go up too. It’s dangerous down here for us. I need to get back home. ” 

Rex narrows his eyes.  “ So what you really need is for me to take you up there. There’s no benefit at all for me. Just a waste of time. ” 

“ No! ”  The creature waves their little hands, alarmed.  “ No! You really can see! And it’s easier to move up there! ”  There’s obvious panic in their voice, but Rex isn’t sure if it’s because of him, or because he might leave them. He rolls his eyes and takes another look up the giant tree trunks.

One thing is for certain: he cannot see anything down there. Flares wouldn’t go above the treetops either, so they’d be useless from the ground. Rex contemplates, tossing the idea around in his head, and wrinkles his nose when he reaches a decision.

“ Alright. I’m going up there. I’ll take you too, but if this turns out to be for nothing, I’m gonna drop you back down. ”  It’s an empty threat––something the little creature quickly picks up on. They beam up at him, looking just elated. Rex dons his ( now unoccupied ) helmet and . . .––well, he isn’t sure if he should just grab them, or if he should go about carrying them some other way. Thankfully, they solve the problem for him. They’re fast; they race to his boot and scale his leg like it’s nothing, and then the rest of him, all the way up to his shoulder pauldron. He wasn’t expecting that, but . . . it works.

“ Right . . .. Hold on tight. ”  Rex pulls a blaster from his holster and attaches an ascension cable. The lowest branch on the tree before him is . . . still pretty damn high up. His grimace deepens; he isn’t sure that the cable is long enough to reach, but he takes aim and shoots. It flies out with a hiss, racing parallel to the trunk for a good few seconds before . . . yes! It just barely reaches  the branch’s underside. Were Rex a few inches shorter, he’s not sure it would have made it. 

One last check to make sure the creature is secure on his shoulder ( somehow they seem even smaller up close ), then Rex starts the climb. He has to pull himself up the trunk a few steps so he can secure the cable to his belt, but then he’s able to activate the wench that gradually pulls them up.

“ So. ”  Even with the wench, it’s still going to take a while to scale a tree this tall. Rex keeps his eyes upward, but he does nod slightly towards his company.  “ Got a name? ” 

“ Yes. I am Pomfree. My friends call me Pom. ”

“ Pom. My name’s Rex. You, uh . . . you said you live up in the canopies? How’d you get up there to begin with? ”

“ Oh, my kind comes from up in the treetops. We are many tribes that have always been up there. Those that fall to the floor . . . ”  Rex feels them shudder,  “ usually they do not come back up. It is dangerous. And impossible for us to climb so far. ”

“ No kidding . . .. ”  Rex isn’t sure he would be able to climb this thing without an ascension cable, let alone someone like Pom.  “ You can glide, though, right? ”

“ Yes, but . . . ”  they pull one of the membranes from their sides––Rex can now see from his peripherals that it is indeed clothing––and show a stitched-up tear, presumably recent.  “ I tore it on a branch in the confusion, and I hit my head shortly after, so . . .. ”

So that’s how they got to the ground. Rex feels a pang of sympathy for the little creature. He knows all about being thrown into hostile environments, but he’s a soldier. Pom, he imagines, is not.

“ Why are you here? ”  Their question pulls Rex from his thoughts. He shoots them a glance, a brow raised under his helmet.

“ Told you: I fell from my ship while it was––– ”

“ No––why are you on our planet? We are not a part of the war . . . are we? ”  There’s a twinge of fear in their voice––something Rex is, unfortunately, quite familiar with. This terrible war has ravaged many planets.

“ Erm . . . well, the Separatists have established a fort here, despite your apparent neutrality, so we’ve come in to deal with it. ”  That’s putting things a little lightly. He doesn’t really want to scare Pom more.  “ It’s pretty far from here, though. Don’t think you’ll be seeing any part of it anytime soon––if at all. ”  Hopefully. Civilian casualties happen, but Rex still would like to minimize them wherever and whenever he can.

His answer seems to calm Pom, if only a little. They look up the cable that’s pulling them along. They’ve almost reached the branch. Once Rex gets a hold on it, Pom moves to somewhere a bit more stable so the clone can have his full range of motion and climb his way up to the branch’s top. It’s easier said than done; the damn thing is thicker than Rex is tall. He nearly slips once, and gets both of their hearts racing. He does assure Pom that he’s okay and he’s got them, and manages to make it to the dorsal surface. Thank God the bark is rough and filled with handholds.

They’re not even halfway up the tree, though. Rex cranes his neck, looking up at the vertical distance still ahead of them, and sighs. The droop of his shoulders makes Pom scramble for a moment to maintain balance.

“ This . . . is gonna take a while. ”  Dismayed but determined, the captain readies his cable again, takes aim, and shoots for the next-nearest branch, way high up. It’s going to take, he suspects, at least three or four more cable trips to get up to where they need to be.

Pom is fairly chatty, full of questions. Rex answers what he can. Being an older clone, he’s a bit more aware of the universe around him, and of the nuances of the war. The little being watches him with those wide, curious eyes, soaking up all he has to say. It’s cute, in a way; Rex just wishes he had more to tell them than stories and news about violence and suffering. He’s sorry that the war has come to this planet.

Once they reach the underside of the second branch, the two rinse and repeat as they’d done with the first. Rex expels a breath bordering on exasperation as he looks upward. Only now are they about halfway up the gigantic tree. He notices that, at their current height, their surroundings look different than they had on the jungle floor. It’s brighter, if only marginally so. The foliage is comprised more of leaves and vines, as opposed to the heavy roots and trunks and ferns on the jungle floor. Rex pushes past a curtain of moss as he walks along the bough, searching for another spot to aim his cable.

“ Wait. ”  Pom knocks their little fist on the side of the trooper’s helmet.

“ What? You see something? ”  He does not like the sudden worry in their voice. Reflexively he rests a hand on the hilt of one of his blasters.

“ No, I hear . . . –––get down! ” 

Rex ducks just in time. Mere moments after their warning, a beast erupts from the foliage, its claws and teeth just barely missing his head. Rex crawls forward a few feet and twists onto his seat. Whatever it is, it seems to be only about half the size of a man, but it is mean. It looks like an alien cross between feline and reptile, and sports two sets of climbing arms and a smaller set of what appear to be prey-grabbing arms. He doesn’t get to observe much more of it before it launches at him, all arms outstretched. Rex falls backward, letting the beast sail over him again. He quickly flips himself over and jumps to his feet, ready to move, when a sharp cry brings his attention back to his passenger. The little being clings to his pauldron, legs flailing. Dammit. He’d nearly forgotten about them in the–––

“ Look out! ” 

Rex throws up an arm just as the beast reaches him, its teeth clamping down on his gauntlet. A few reach his skin, but he pays it no mind, much more distracted by the claws slashing at him.

No . . ..

The beast isn’t aiming for him; it’s aiming for Pom! The little one yelps and struggles to maintain their hold amidst the panic and the pandemonium. Rex shoves the creature off with a heavy knee to its gut and, without really thinking, grabs Pom. They squeak and struggle in his hold, but he keeps firm. He turns and dashes to put some distance between them and the creature while its still recuperating, his free hand aiming the cable launcher upward. There isn’t any time to pick an optimal branch; he selects one that looks suitable enough, shoots, and starts ascending as soon as it hooks in.

“ I’ve gotcha, kid, ”  Rex says,  “ that thing isn’t gonna–––augh! ” 

Sharp pains pierce the flesh between his armor. The beast jumped up after them, and has its claws dug into his left leg. With both hands occupied, the trooper can only curse and kick at it, quickly growing desperate to shake it off. It’s not interested in him in the slightest; it’s trying to climb him to reach Pom, now held as far out as possible.

Bastard. Rex grits his teeth and rams his heel into the creature’s face. His grip on the blaster is starting to slip; he needs to ditch this thing fast.

“ Pom, I’m gonna throw you, ”  he says. He doesn’t give the little one any time to protest before he launches them upward. Their fear-filled yell doesn’t sit well with him, but he’s left with one hand free to grab his other blaster. He shoots the beast in the shoulder, making it shriek out in pain, and pistol whips it right along its temple. Its claws unhook from his person, leaving it to fall a few feet and land bodily onto a branch below. It’s still alive, but stunned, and hopefully convinced to leave them be. Rex watches it for a second, then snaps his head upwards, eyes searching the foliage.

“ Pom? “  He doesn’t see them, which sends a pang of worry through his brain. They fixed the tear in their gliding suit; surely they managed to slow their fall . . . right?  “ Where are you, kid?  That thing’s gone now. Pom? ” 

The longer the silence persists, the more unsettled Rex grows. He stops his ascent and pulls himself up the cable enough to hook it to his belt, then looks down to the branches below. The creature is nowhere to be seen, but the same can be said for Pom.

“ Hey, Pom! Come on, kid! Tell me you’re alright! ”  What if they fell back to the floor? What if the thing ultimately managed to snatch them and run off? Dank Farrik, what if–––

“ Rex! ”  The tiny voice snaps his attention upward. Relief washes over him when he spots them perched atop a branch several feet above him. They jump, gliders spread, and drift down towards him. He meets them with both hands outstretched, giving them a platform to land on. Immediately he can feel the shivers coursing through their body. Another pang spikes in his mind. Carefully, he draws them nearer.

“ Pom, I––listen, kid, I’m sorry. I should’a given you some more warning. You alright? ”  Other than their pallid features, they don’t look any worse for wear physically. They nod, still shaking.

“ It’s––n-no, I am okay. I am just . . . I have never seen a grekesa up close . . . and I never want to again. ”  They pull their gliders in and sit in his hands, hugging their knees to their chest. Rex presses his lips together. It does make him feel a little better to know that his actions didn’t scare them so much as the beast. As a soldier, he’s faced things far worse than that  “ grekesa, ”  but he recognizes that he is both battle-hardened and far to big for most things to make a meal out of. Pom would be but a snack.

“ I’ve got you, kid. We ought’a keep moving before another one shows up. “  Were that to happen, he’d drop the bastard where it stands. Rex deposits Pom onto his shoulder where they quickly huddle up to his neck, and resumes their ascent.

Pom is much quieter now, but, after a few minutes, Rex feels their tension start to ease. A part of him wants to reach up and comfort them, but he’s not sure how he’d do that. What, would he rub their back or shoulder with his finger? Give them a little hair ruffle? How would he comfort someone so small?

“ Thank you, ”  they say, drawing Rex from his thoughts.

“ Hm? What for? ” 

Pom shrugs, though the gesture goes unseen.  “ For saving me from the grekesa. For helping me get back home. ”

A tinge of warmth fills the trooper’s heart. He shakes his head.  “ Don’t mention it. In fact, don’t thank me just yet; we still have a ways to go before we get to the canopy. ”

As they climb ever higher into the treetops, Rex takes note of the drastic changes in scenery. The difference between the jungle floor and the upper levels is like night and day––literally. While the floor was quite dark, at this height, there isn’t nearly as much foliage to block out the sunlight. Something as simple as a bit of sun has Rex feeling more optimistic that he’ll be able to see his fallen ship when they reach the top.

Once they reach their next branch, Rex pauses a moment and removes his helmet. He’s mindful of Pom as he does so, careful not to jostle them too much. He fishes into one of his pockets to retrieve a rations bar. All of this crashing and climbing and fighting with local fauna has his stomach growling. Before he takes a bite, though, he breaks off a piece and offers it to his companion, who gratefully accepts.

“ Shouldn’t be too much longer, ”  Rex says after swallowing down a few bites.  “ One more good placement of the cable and we’ll be up near the top. Any of this starting to look familiar to you? ”

Pom finishes off their piece of ration, then stands up on the trooper’s shoulder, one hand to his neck for balance.  “ Hmm . . .. Not really. I have never left the canopy before. But . . .. ”  They leap from their perch, gliders unfolding. They drift over to a cluster of leaves on a neighboring branch. Rex watches with one brow raised as they inspect the branch, looking for who-knows-what.

“ Aha! ”  They declare. They hold up a leaf that, to Rex, looks like any other dead leaf. He blinks, confused.  “ This is from my tribe! We must be approaching one of the lower villages! ”

“ That leaf . . .? ”  He tilts his head, still lost.  “ How do you know it’s not just . . . some leaf? ”

“ Because! ”  Pom jumps and glides back to Rex, who holds out a hand for them to land on. They hold up the leaf to him.  “ Each tribe grows special leaves that we graft onto trees to mark our territories. This one––see these? ”  they point to the veins in the leaf, which swirl in intricate patterns.  “ Over the generations, my tribe has designed this pattern and color. It is unique to us. ”

“ Uh hunh . . .. ”  Rex squints. Upon closer inspection, it does stand out. However, other than the color––a bright red to contrast the greens––he wouldn’t think anything of it. Then again, this isn’t his culture; he wouldn’t think to think anything of it.  “ That’s good news then. Means we’re gettin’ somewhere. ”

Pom beams up at the trooper. They scurry along his arm, back to his shoulder, and settle down for the continued journey. Rex finishes off the last of his ration bar, replaces his helmet, and takes aim at another branch. This one, he hopes, will be the last stretch. He clips himself in and activates the wench, thus resuming their ascent.

It doesn’t take long for Pom to point out more markers of their tribe. There are carvings and paintings in the bark, more clusters of leaves, and even a few abandoned homes––all of which would have gone under Rex’s radar were he alone. The more he sees, the more he realizes how resourceful Pom’s people must be to live up here.

The excitement and wonder come to a grinding halt, however, when the ascension cable lurches. Rex only has a moment to realize what’s happening before it comes loose. After a brief fall and an undignified yell, he manages to catch himself on a branch, hands clinging to the bark and legs dangling.

“ Dammit! Pom, are you––– ”  He looks to his shoulder to find it unoccupied. He isn’t given any time to process this, though. A sharp smack to the side of his helmet draws the trooper’s attention to his left, where he finds four little humanoids, each armed with a slingshot.  “ What the hell . . .? ”

“ Stop! Leave him alone! ”  Calls a familiar voice from up above. Pom drifts down, landing atop Rex’s helmet.  “ He is my friend! ”

The four beings pause, each of them looking shocked and confused.  “ Pomfree? Is that you? ”  One asks. All at once, they rush forward towards Rex and Pom. He has to stop himself from flinching as they scale his arms and shoulders. The one that spoke clambers up to meet Pom on his helmet where the two embrace. Rex feels . . . awkward.

“ We saw you fall into the dark beyond! ”  The one––Rex assumes them to be the leader of the group––says.

“ I did! I fell all the way to the floor, ”  they say.  “ I tried to stop myself, but I tore my wing and hit my head and then I woke up down there. This one––– ”  they pat Rex’s helmet,  “ helped me back up. He saved me from a grekesa too! ” 

Though he can’t see any of the little ones from where they are on his person, he can feel all of their eyes on him. Rex clears his throat.  “ Er, hi. I hate to break up the reunion, but do you mind letting me pull myself up? I don’t really want to stay hanging here. ” 

Pom is the first to disembark. The others are quick to follow. Once they’re all off, Rex hauls himself up to straddle the branch. He breathes a sigh of relief, and rolls his shoulders to work out some of the stiffness from holding himself in place.

All five of the little beings stare at him. Pom is the only one that does not look wary. Rex can’t blame them, he supposes. He clears his throat again.  “ Right. I am Captain Rex of the Army of the Grand Republic. It’s true, I met Pom down on the jungle floor. “

“ He is good, ”  Pom insists, though their companions do not seem fully convinced. They huff and approach Rex, frowning. They climb up onto his thigh and gesture to him.  “ Show your face. Let them see you. ”

With some hesitancy, the trooper complies. He pulls his helmet off and tucks it under his arm. This somehow feels even more awkward.

“ Look, I don’t want to cause you any more trouble than we already have. I’m just trying to find my squadron; Pom told me I’d have a better shot at seeing where they landed up here. Only fair I bring them up with me. ”

The four regard him with scrutiny, then huddle up to whisper amongst themselves. Every few seconds, one of them glances back at him before returning to the conversation. Rex grimaces.

“ Well, Pom, I think this is where we’re gonna have to part ways. ”  Gently, he scoops the little being off of his leg and sets them down on the branch. Before he can pull his hand away, though, they catch his thumb and wrap their arms around it. This, he realizes, is the closest thing to a hug they can share. He glances to the group, all of whom are staring at him again, then gently lets his fingers curl around their back.

“ Hey now, no need for any waterworks, kid, ”  he says, mustering a half-smile.  “ Glad I could get you back to your people. You be good now, alright? ”

Pom gives his thumb a squeeze before letting go. They take the leaf they’d kept from when they’d first found signs of their tribe and place it in Rex’s palm.  “ Thank you, Rex. I am sad I cannot do more to help you than wish you luck in finding your own people. ”

“ Don’t worry about it. ”  His half-smile grows into something softer, more genuine. Fingers close around the leaf, then he pushes himself to stand. The four new little ones retreat a few feet, and Pom joins them after a moment. Rex offers a small wave, then puts on his helmet and tucks the leaf into one of his pockets. He takes his blaster and launches his ascension cable to a higher branch.

Pom is home. That’s good. Now he needs to figure out how the hell he’s going to keep the war away from them and their people.

#g/t #g/t fiction #g/t writing #star wars #g/t star wars #rex #pomfree #hyena writes #hyena ocs #hoo boy this is a longer one

[jadethest0ne]

In need of Refueling, Chapter 2 - Silken Web

Summary:    “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 1384

Ratings/Warnings:  Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents

Notes: Time for another villain to appear! Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo  for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!

Read on AO3

———-

Red Son stands in front of a decrepit market stand. Shriveled brown excuses for vegetation dust the bottom of containers labeled as produce and cooking ingredients. But the demon he is looking for is nowhere to be seen. He peers into the tented area covered by curtains with an unimpressed glare. Still, the spider insignia on the stand’s sign is unmistakable, so he calls into the gloom with a demanding, authoritative voice. “Spider Queen! I have come to have some words with you. I am looking for something and I think you have the information I seek!”

At first there is nothing. But a soft wind picks up around his ankles and a sultry whisper drifts out of the stand. “Come in…” it says.

Red Son glances around the area, then slips inside the curtains.

“Farther inside…” the voice calls.

Red Son knows a trap when he sees one, but he continues on without fear as he looks around for any traces of trickery. It is dusty and the area seems untouched, except for the circular disk that he just stepped on.

“Right there…” says the voice, and Red Son can hear the smile in it as the disk drops down revealing a trap door.

Red Son gives a tired sigh as he falls and activates flames underneath his feet, slowing his descent on his way down the sudden hole in the floor.

He lands smoothly and kicks up flames around his feet in a circle to push back any potential enemy waiting for him below. It is dark, and he can hardly see anything. He hears some drip of water echo, giving a hint of a cavernous area. A scuttling noise bounces around him.

Red Son holds his palm upward in front of him and brings a ball of flame to life, lighting up his surroundings. He is indeed in a cave, as he thought, and it is covered in spider webs. The webs rustle and bounce as a result of quick movements that Red Son forces his eyes to follow despite them still adjusting to the light. The scuttling and the web movements sweep around him, and he twists around adjusting into a defensive stance as he prepares for what is facing him.

As he turns around he finds who he is looking for directly in front of him. If one weren’t paying attention, one might mistake her as an attractive human woman with long black hair and sparkling green eyes. But her greyish-purple skin and sharp fangs reveal a more demonic nature. Her spider-like body, complete with eight spindly legs with sharp ends come into the light, and she lifts herself high above Red Son, looking down at him with the ease of someone who knows how much power she holds.

“Spider Queen,” Red Son says with as much control as he can, despite an uptick in his heart rate. He takes a bow.

“My, what a polite boy,” the eight-legged spider demon drolls amusedly in an earthy accent. “To whom do I owe the pleasure of visiting me down in my Silken Web Cave?”

Red Son straightens himself up and introduces himself. “I am Red Son - the son of the Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan.”

“Yes, and a fire demon it seems,” she says eyeing the flame in his palm warily. “Spiders like us do not take kindly to fire like that…” Her mouth twitches in a hint of a grimace, but the smile never leaves her eyes.

“I did this so I can see, not so I may harm you… as long as I don’t have to…” Red Son says keeping his expression cool, but a smile of his own twitching at the corner of his lips. “I have come to request your assistance.”

“Assistance?” Spider Queen says with a tittering laugh. “That is amusing! What would I be assisting with?”

“Information. I want to know of any artifact or power source strong enough to kill an immortal.”

The Spider Queen quirks an eyebrow. “Might you be looking to destroy the Monkie Kid? I hear he has been causing you trouble. But I also hear that he is not indestructible. Your flames or a good enough whack should do the trick, I’d say,” she says clicking one of her legs harshly against the ground for emphasis.

“Not the Monkie Kid. The Monkey King!”

“Oh, is he still wandering around these parts!? I suppose that makes sense given that the Monkie Kid has been giving us demons a hard time.” She crosses her arms and looks up, tapping a finger to her cheek. “Well… I don’t know of any specific artifact that could destroy someone as powerful as that…” She again, eyes Red Son’s flames. “Buuuut… I do know of a way to power up your fire in a way that might allow you to gain the upper hand in a fight against him.”

Red Son’s eyes light up and the fire in his hand flares with his excitement. “Really!? Magnificent! Tell me! I must know!” He grins widely and wickedly, barely containing himself.

“Hahaha, you lose your manners so quickly when you are excited it seems,” Spider Queen laughs without joy. “Why would I give you such information without anything in return? What do you have for me?”

Red Son’s grin doesn’t falter, spreading further to show his teeth. “Oh, I hear that you’re looking for rare and powerful ingredients, and I have some for you right here.” Red Son pulls a pouch out of his pocket and opens it to reveal dark hairs sticking out of it. “The Monkie Kid’s hair, leftover from his defeated clones. I’m sure that's worth a little bit of information, now isn’t it?”

Red Son can tell he’s got her interest by the way that her eyes glimmer with no help from the flame he wields.  She stretches out a hand, and two of her all too sharp legs reach toward him as well. “Yes!” she says, as if entranced by the sight of the hair.

“Uh, uh, uh!” Red Son tuts as he brings the bag close to the fire in his other hand, causing the Spider Queen to stop her advance. “I want my information first.”

Spider Queen’s smile tightens, and this time it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You’re a shrewd little boy. But yes, I will tell you.”

Red Son smiles and listens intently.

Her posture straightens and with a flick of her wrist she spools out a strand of thread that begins to take shape into an abstract picture of a flame. So skilled is the puppetry of her silk webs, that the false flame seems to dance. “The power you are looking for is called ‘The True Fire of Samadhi.’”

As she weaves her story, so does she weave pictures into her web. She creates the image of a ring of mountains around a taller one. “You must seek out the Flaming Mountains surrounding the Monkey King’s own Flower Fruit Mountain. He knows not that his own weakness lies within the very fires that seemingly protect his solitude.” The abstract map-like picture shifts to a mountain to the left, with an opening about midway up. “In the tallest eastern mountain, there is a cave that leads to a shrine that can only be revealed by the rising sun. In there, you will find the power you seek.” Spider Queen releases her webs, letting them dangle, lifeless. She shifts her stance and her speech from storyteller to businesswoman in a second. “Is that enough information for you, sugar?”

Red Son nods enthusiastically and hands over the pouch. “I will be on my way, now.”

Spider Queen picks her finger through the hairs in the pouch as if counting gold coins. She certainly handles the pouch as if it were just as precious. “Oh, and one more thing, sweetie,” she says, waving an errant hand over her shoulder. “A warning, since you seem like quite the impatient type. The power there is as old as the mountains themselves. It has the power to overwhelm if found in the wrong hands.”

Red Son scoffs, barely giving her words a second thought. As if there were any fire that he couldn’t handle. He leaves, having gotten what he came for.

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#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #lego #red son #spider queen #lmk #in need of refueling #fic #fanfiction #my writing #jadethest0ne #jadethestone

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

The Senator and The Chiss

Until We Meet Again: Part 1/?

Thrawn x Senator!Reader, Female Pronouns

Summary: You are a newly appointed Senator of you home planet, trying your best to make it through Ascension week in one piece. Things take a turn for the interesting when you meet a Lieutenant of the Imperial Navy unlike any you have seen before.

Loosely based on an anon request.

A/N: I’m not exactly sure where this is going. I plan this to be a series of one shots revolving around this Senator!Reader. If your interested in reading more about her and Thrawn, feel free to send any request my way! And remember REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS!!!

Word Count: 2.6K

Ascension week was proving to be more exhausting than you had anticipated.

You understood what was expected of you and had mentally prepared to be on your feet for every day of the celebrations. But after only three days, the names and faces were starting to blur together until nothing mattered except going home and finally getting some sleep.

You clung to the sides of the ballroom, enjoying the moment’s peace while you could. You had long forgotten where exactly you were or even the host’s name. A twist of guilt resided in your stomach because of it. With any luck you could remain anonymous for another hour or so, as to not appear rude when you left early. The dress and hairpiece you were wearing, however, were making things difficult.

The wardrobe was ceremonial in nature, meant to mark you as a leader of your people. The dress was perfectly tailored to your figure with vibrant greens interwoven with golden and silver thread sewn together in a striking pattern. An elaborate crown was braided into your hair making it appear as if golden vines resided there blooming with silver flowers. It was a striking sight, meant to represented the life of your homeworld and the pride of your people.

Governor Lir had declared you a vision when you had arrived, assuring you were a testimate to Danu and would be the talk of Courscant.

You had thanked him, but knew his words rung partially false. Even when your aids had finished the final touches, you could feel yourself being buried under the weight of the dress. The metal vines poked and pulled at your scalp. You had almost tripped upon first entering the ballroom. If it weren’t for having Governor Lir’s arm, you would have fallen. It was obvious to any with a pair of eyes, and especially yourself; the dress was wearing you rather than you wearing it.

Perhaps you just needed practice. You had only been Senator of Danu for a handful of months and had just settled into your office on Courscant a few weeks ago. It would take time to adjust. But as you looked over the sea of people in the ballroom, all veteran politicians, military men, and various other powerful figures, it was becoming clear time wasn’t on your side.

You took a sip of your wine. Maybe you could convince Governor Lir you needed to rest. Surely he had introduced you to enough people for the evening.

You spotted him across the room, engaged with a handful of other Outer Rim governors.

It would have to wait. You didn’t want to be accidently sucked into another trade routes discussion, if you could help it.

You continued to walk until you came across a set of heavy curtains. They appeared hastily put up. Peaking out of one of the corners you could just make out the bright colors of some kind of mural. Most likely the host didn’t have time to finish it before the start of Ascension week. Regardless, it was exactly the reprieve you needed. Taking a quick glance to make sure you wouldn’t be seen, you ducked under and out of sight.

You turned to face the wall, not wanting to risk backing into wet paint. But, as your eyes adjusted to the dim light, it was clear such precaution was not necessary.

The mural was old, much older than any of the other paintings and portraits placed around the ballroom. The color was starting to fade, but their vibrancy would not die an easy death.

The entire wall was covered in what could only be an ancient star map. Circles and lines weaved along, connecting worlds and stars and planets together in a delicate dance. Each planet stood bodly on their own while still emphasising the importance of the lines connecting them to the rest.

You took a small step back, craning your neck to try and catch every brush stroke. It was then you noticed fresh paint along the corners. At first you assumed it was restoration, but as you examined closer, the darker, subtler color scheme told you otherwise.

A small sting of pain came to your heart. They were painting over it.

The rustle of fabric interrupted your thoughts. You turned toward the sound, an apology ready on your lips when they froze there in wonder.

A new party had entered your sanctuary, but he was unlike anyone you had ever seen.

He was alien, a rarity you had found at events such as these during your short time on Coruscant, but he didn't belong to any species you could name. His humanoid appearance and blue skin should have pointed clearly toward a Pantoran. But his face lacked the usual golden facial tattoos. More importantly his eyes weren’t the usual black or gold; they were a glowing red.

He stood tall exuding an air of confidence which left you transfixed. At first you thought he might be a general or even a prince. But, his uniform and plaque marked him as a Lieutenant of the Imperial Navy.

It felt wrong, somehow.

You blinked, suddenly realizing how long you had been staring. The only comfort you could find was that he had been staring back.

“I’m sorry,” you said, automatically. “Was this your hiding place?”

You held back a wince at your own words. Why would someone like him need to hide?

To your relief, he did not seem to take offence as his lip curled into a mildly amused expression. “No,” he said, in accented Basic. “I was merely hoping for a chance to admire the artwork. Though, it appears I have stumbled upon your hiding place.”

Your eyes darted down in embarrassment. “It was not my intention for it to be so. I just needed a moment to breathe and well…” You looked back toward the painting, and the same regretful pain tugged at your heart once more.

“I will leave you to it, then,” the alien said. He turned to leave, and a sudden panic took you.

“There’s no need,” you said, quickly. “Please, there is more than enough room for two and you may not have another opportunity.”

He paused a moment. His expression was unreadable as his red eyes gazed directly into yours.

You found yourself holding your breath, not even daring to blink.

Then, slowly, he nodded and took a place by your side.

You stood in silence, each allowing the other to observe the mural in peace.

It was actually rather pleasant. You hadn’t realized how long it had been since you had a comfortable silence with someone.

“What do you know of this painting,” he asked.

His tone was surprisingly soft. If he hadn’t addressed you directly, you would have assumed he was asking himself.

“Not much I’m afraid,” you answered. “Judging by how faded it is and the subject matter, I would guess it was commissioned well before The Clone War.”

“That was my conclusion as well. You have a fondness for that era, I take it.”

You gave a small frown. “What makes you say that?”

“You were facing the mural instead of the entrance,” he said, not bothering to take his gaze from the wall. “For one reason or another, this piece overshadowed your desire to remain hidden.”

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably at the truth of his statement as your cheeks grew warm. “I suppose you’re right. In truth, I have a fondness for any era of peace in our galaxy’s history. The Republic was so for nearly a millennium…” You stopped then, a familiar lump forming in your throat. “Until it wasn’t.”

“And what of the Empire?”

You shrugged, swallowing the lump as best you could. “Too soon to tell.”

He said nothing for a moment. His eyes still remained on the mural, but you knew he had taken your words into serious consideration. To what end, you could only guess.

“What other thoughts do you have on the painting?” he asked.

“How do you mean?”

“What do you see? What do you believe drew you to it in the first place?”

He settled his eyes on your now, with just the same focused attention as he had the wall.

“You me aside from its use as an ideal hiding place,” you asked.

His lip twisted upward slightly. “Yes, aside from that.”

You nodded, and allowed yourself a moment to ponder the question. Your eyes wandered again to the mural, to the shapes and colors and the looming ridged strokes along the edges.

“I think it has more to do with the contrast of what is to come,” you said, thoughtfully. “A riot of color rebelling against the darkness.”

You turned your eye to his. They seemed to burn in the dim light. For a moment, you thought you might burn yourself. You looked away, suddenly feeling very small and childish in your explanation.

“But, I am no expert.”

“Perhaps not,” he conceded. “But your answer is telling, nonetheless.”

Your back stiffened, and you raised your chin a little higher. “Do you presume to know me Lieutenant?”

“No,” he said, calmly. “I would not presume to know anything without more data.”

“But you have come to some conclusions.”

“Theories.”

“Which are?”

You were standing even straighter now. You would not allow yourself to be intimidated, especially by a man you barely knew.

He paused then. Something in his expression faltered, as if taken by surprise.

A small swell of pride came to your chest. You had a suspicion surprise was a foreign emotion to the alien.

It only lasted a moment and the impenetrable mask reclaimed its place on his features.

“As I said, I cannot make any certain claims,” he said, carefully. “I can only speculate. But I believe I am correct in saying, you are much bolder than you allow yourself to be.”

You blinked in wonder, not knowing entirely what to say. Slowly, you regained control of your vocabulary. “I will take it under consideration.”

He gave small nod in acknowledgement.

Another silence fell between you. It was not as comfortable as the last one. A new tension was in the air. What it was, you couldn’t name. All you knew was your ears were growing deadly hot.

“For such an intimate evaluation of my character, it feels odd I don’t know your name,” you said, in a light tone.

“Then, allow me to provide a remedy.” He straightened to attention. “I am Lieutenant Thrawn, first weapon’s officer of the Blood Crow, Imperial Navy. And, you?”

You matched him, straightening your posture and holding your head high as if to present yourself to a King. “I am Senator Y/N of Danu,” you said, with a curtsey. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance Lieutenant Thrawn.”

“The pleasure is mine, Senator.”

The amused line had made its way back onto his lips.

It was a small change, but you instantly fell at ease making your next question easier to bear.

“Forgive me if I sound ignorant,” you said. “And please know I mean no disrespect. But, I do not believe I’ve seen a member of your species before. May I ask where you come from?”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Thrawn assured. “I’m afraid you would not have heard of my home planet as it is not on any of your star maps. I can, however, tell you that I am Chiss.”

You felt your eyes widen. “Chiss?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard of the Chiss?”

“Only stories, folk tales really.” You were gawking now, you knew you were, but it couldn’t be helped. “I wasn’t entirely convinced you were real.”

“Indeed,” he said. “And how did a senator come to hear such stories?”

“Danu is part of the Outer Rim, boarding Wild Space,” you explained, mentally shaking yourself out of your shock. “My family has employed a number of traders who have explored the Unknown Region looking for hyperspace lanes or even just new trading partners. They all come back with stories.”

“Which you were inclined to listen too.”

You shrugged. “A good story is a good story, it doesn’t matter where it came from or how true it is. Although, it appears some of them may be.”

“Perhaps,” he said, thoughtfully. “I would be interested to hear these stories. A small handful have been relayed to be by my translator, Ensign Vanto. I am curious what similarities and differences may arise after comparing them to another source.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “And I would be fascinated to hear the stories straight from the Gualaar’s mouth,” you said. “But before we begin, I have one more question to ask of you.”

“Which is?”

“What do you think of the mural?”

Thrawn paused, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You were able to deduce some of my character from the exercise,” you said. “It’s only fair I be given the same opportunity.”

Thrawn again, said nothing. Finally he nodded. “You’re quite right.”

He was quite a long moment.

You could see the wheels of his mind turning behind his eyes. You would have given anything to know exactly what he was thinking. But as was becoming a habit, you could only guess.

Another moment passed before he blinked smoothly back to reality.

“I believe you and I see much the same thing,” he said. “But our conclusions differ as to their ultimate meaning.”

You felt your lips purse at his rather cryptic answer. You were about to ask him what exactly he meant when the curtains behind you parted.

“Lieutenant Thrawn,” an older man snapped. “I’ve been looking… Oh, my apologies.”

He faltered slightly upon seeing you, but soon gained his footing as he stood to attention.

“No need to apologize, Colonel,” Thrawn said. “Allow me to introduce Senator Y/N of Danu. Senator, this is Colonel Yularen of the ISB.”

The Colonel gave a small bow in greeting. “An honor, Senator.”

“The honor is mine,” you replied. “In truth, I should be apologizing to you. It seems I’ve distracted the Lieutenant from his duties.”

“Only for a moment,” the Colonel said, in a good natured, but firm tone which oddly reminded you of your grandfather. “But, I’m afraid I will have to steal him away from you.”

“Of course,” you said, even if you felt a small prick of pain at the loss.

He looked to Thrawn. “Lieutenant.”

“One moment, Colonel,” Thrawn said, as he turned his attention to you. “I would like to continue our discussion at a later date. Is there a time and place convenient for you?”

“I will be attending gatherings every evening this week,” you said, trying to repress the sudden surge of excitement bubbling beneath the surface. “However, I will be in my office tomorrow afternoon, if you can spare the time.”

“I am certain I can. Until tomorrow Senator.”

“Until tomorrow.”

He gave a small bow and turned to follow Colonel Yularen back into the light of the ballroom.

You stood there a moment reeling from the experience. So many questions buzzed in your mind each fighting for your attention until they became a jumbled mess. He thought you were bold?

You shook the thought away, but it didn’t stop your cheeks from growing warm once again.

Perhaps it was too soon to tell, but you had a strange feeling you would be seeing much more of Lieutenant Thrawn than just your upcoming meeting. You weren’t sure what to make of the sensation that now beat fast in your heart. All you could do was wait and see what the galaxy had in store.

Taking a small breath, you step forward towards the light. Your dress felt lighter now. The crown upon your head did not pull and prod. Your steps were smooth and easy.

However this played out, it was certain to be interesting.

#thrawn #thrawn x reader #grand admiral thrawn #grand admiral thrawn x reader #star wars imagine #timothy zahn #star wars #star wars rebels #thrawn x senator