#so nervous about this and IDK why

[deejadabbles]

The Handmaiden's Fox (Fox x Fem!Reader) Chapter One

Summary: You have been by Amidala’s side since she was the queen of Naboo and no one will shake you from your duty. Not even a handsome, red-clad commander who seems quite taken with the friendship you’ve forged. Commander Fox x fem handmaiden reader. Slow burn, friends to lovers. Rating: Mature A.N: So for those of you who don't know: all of Padmé's handmaidens take new names ending with " é " as a sign of loyalty to her. I never mentioned the reader's é name as I want that to be personal, but I wanted to mention it since it comes into play in the story <3

I've also made a playlist for this series, in case you want to set the mood with tunes. Word Count: 6,284 Warnings: just some blaster fire and canon typical danger Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up  /// AO3

Prologue /// Part One /// Part Two /// [part three coming soon]

Chapter one

The roaring of the senate chamber was deafening. You had thought that years of exposure to it would harden your hearing, but no petty debate between dozens of senators could have prepared you for the screaming of the last two weeks. Two weeks. Not even fourteen rotations had passed since the battle of Geonosis. Since the start of the Clone War. Every day more and more planets were leaving to join the Separatists, and the destruction of chaos was spreading fast. So, you supposed it was little surprise that every single debate in the Senate was automatically a vibrant verbal brawl now.

And here you had hoped that fewer senators in the hall would lessen the noise.

As always, you stood sentry behind your lady, your Amidala, who had fought in the first battle of the war. Who had been thrown into a pit for execution, and blasted her way out like a warrior. Now, she was in a whole new type of pit, instead of fighting starved beasts, she was now fighting numerous senators who seemed content to throw out any shred of decency in favor of war.

You watched as the senator from Corellia made their argument, that they needed to cut off relief aid funding in favor of the cloning facilities. Just two weeks in, and the need for more clones was already apparent. In the seat in front of you, you watched Padmé stiffen at the way the other senator implied that ‘lesser’ worlds needed to help themselves before asking the Republic for aid. She was raring for a fight, and fight she did.

You never got tired of watching Padmé put someone in place with a few carefully chosen words. Never tired of the way she fought for others…even if it didn’t always work in the end.

“Motion passed,” came Chancellor Palpatine’s voice. 

You closed your eyes with the smallest sigh, knowing that even more suffering would come to pass now. At least this was only a motion to start talking about cutting funding. Padmé would do everything she could to make sure the next bill was as fair as she could manage.

When the sound that indicated the end of the day’s session rang through the chamber, you almost slumped with relief. You didn’t of course, no handmaiden ever lost her composure under the watchful eye of the senate. But you were glad that it was finally time to return to your lady’s office. A headache was coming on strong.

Padmé had more grace than to storm out of the chamber like a woman on a war path, but your trained eye could see she was exactly that as she walked calmly out into the hall. She didn’t try to hide her expressions nearly as much now, her queen persona having faded quite a lot in the passing years, but she still knew the value of looking calm to her colleagues.

The hallways were a buzz with activity, aids and senators alike calling for associates and running here and there for their next task. That, and it was filled with the sounds of armored boots. 

As you and the Naboo guards followed Padmé, several groups of the new clone trooper units passed by. All of it was still a little disconcerting, having such heavily armed men tramping around. It brought back memories, wounds a decade old still felt fresh as the sound of marching feet reminded you of droids taking over Theed. 

You were proud that you had fought for your home world all those years ago, fought the Trade Federation (who now were now ironically a head of the Separatists) and took back your planet and your people. But that didn’t mean the battle was easy. 

And these men, these soldiers bred for war, would see far worse in the coming days. 

It might be easy, to look at their identical armor and expressionless helmets, and see them as something akin to droids, but they weren’t. They were flesh and blood under all that plastoid and, while their new and overbearing presence may be unsettling for now, you refused to dehumanize them in your mind like that.

A call of your name drew your attention back to the present, just as Padmé reached the door to her office.

“I have that meeting with Bail and Mon in about an hour, but there’s still so much work to do,” she sighed as the door closed behind her, “I hate to ask, but-”

“I will stay here and file anything you need, my lady.” You had anticipated this, things were still adjusting to the new war-time normal, and Padmé’s workload was more overwhelming than ever, and that was saying something. To ensure she got any rest at all right now, you had to do much of the paperwork she would see to personally while the committees and meeting ate up her time.

She sighed with relief and gave you that small smile that always held her deepest affection. “Thank you, I’ll get a head start on it for you at least, since I still need you to research the Chabrill and Cordia incidences.”

And so the two of you got to work. Your first tasks were easy enough, you’d lost count of the number of info packs you’d written for her on import events over the years, and they were done by the time she and the guards left for that meeting. You stayed behind in the office, her atmosphere controlls set to play your favorite soothing sounds for white noise as you worked.

Padmé trusted you to answer most of her mail and requests the way she would and save the dire ones for her personal attention. You polished up and filed her pending motions, and a dozen other mundane things that made you want to pull your hair out despite your never waving composure. God, you hated politics sometimes. More or less than paperwork, you couldn’t say, but it was always a close running between the two.

You were just answering a far too flirtatious message from Senator Dobo and almost, almost, missed the way the sound of armored feet got louder just outside the door.

Eyes flashed up to the entrance, just as it was slid open without so much as a knock.

Three clone troopers came charging in as you jumped to your feet behind the desk.

“What is the meaning of this?” you demanded in a cool tone, hands slipping into the sleeves of your tunic in a neutral dignified posture. “Troopers are not permitted in here without permission.”

“Are you Senator Amidala?” The one in front asked, tone clipped, not the monotone you had heard a few clones use over the past weeks.

“I am her aid, and I demand you answer my question, trooper.” 

You saw it, the barely-there way his shoulders stiffen, before he clasped his hands behind his back, and feel the eyes behind the visor bore into you.

“We need to see the senator immediately, we’ve received intelligence that there’s been a threat made on her life.”

…Oh, was that all? You almost laughed. Though you did appreciate the man’s obvious dedication to his job.

Your eyes took in the freshly painted red on the white armor, having heard that the higher ranks of clones had adopted the marking to indicate their legions and ranks. This one had the vaguely sword-like symbol of Coruscant emblazoned boldly on his chest, while the two at attention behind him had simpler red markings.

“You must be the new Commander of the Coruscant Guard,” you said.

“I am.”

“Then, Commander, you will soon learn that there is always a threat made on Senator Amidala’s life. It comes hand in hand with her tendency to put dangerous people in their place.”

Again your keen eyes picked up on the tightening of his arms, so subtle under the armor even you almost missed it. One talent you’d learned in the Naboo royal court, was reading body language, especially the body language of those who always hid theirs. It was an even more useful skill in your new position, though you’d never thought to use it on these men. The clone was either shocked at the candor in which you spoke about the danger, or annoyed with how you were talking to him. Maybe both.

“All the same,” his tone was measured now, but you heard the hint of gritted teeth behind the polite words, “I must speak with Amidala about the threat. Personally.”

Had you not been schooling your expression like you always did here, you would have raised your eyebrows at him. You weren’t annoyed, not really, in fact, you found the way he stood his ground almost admirable. He cared about his job but…maybe it was more than that. Maybe he cared about the safety of others on a more personal level. You weren’t sure yet, but, the commander had made his way onto your list of potential allies, one you may pursue in the future.

If he was annoyed with you, there was no need to vex him further. You gave a small, respectful incline of your head. “Very well, Commander. I will escort you to her.” 

He did not thank you as you made your way around the desk and walked past them through the door, but he fell in step behind you without protest. You sent a quick message from your small wrist unit, using a code phrase that would warn Padmé to be alert.

You could practically feel the tension in the troopers behind you and normally, you would ignore it, but, if you were being honest, you liked the opportunity this gave you. To learn more about the men who were now protecting the senate.

“I did not catch your name, Commander,” you said, keeping your eyes forward.

“CC-1010.”

You actually faltered a little at that, “Excuse me?” This time you actually looked over your shoulder at him, and let your brow lift up in question. You didn’t miss the way his body shifted under your gaze.

“It’s the only name they gave me, ma’am.” His tone was just a notch lower now, another thing of note.

A number. A number, like a droid. 

That didn’t sit well with you, not one bit, but, you supposed it was none of your business, for now. “I see,” you said after a moment, then turned your eyes back in front of you. “Well, Commander, if you ever decide to take another name, please do let me know.”

“I didn’t get your name either.”

You almost smiled at that, and gave him the name you had taken when you took on the role of handmaiden all those years ago. Very few people here on Coruscant knew your birth name, and none used it. The commander would have to become an extremely close friend to ever earn that honor.

A few minutes of silent walking passed before you finally reached Bail Organa’s office. To his credit, CC-10- ugh, no, you were not calling him that, even in your head, unless he asked you to. To his credit, the Commander listened to your advice when you asked him to ring the doorbell before barging in on a private meeting.

You graciously gave an apology for the interruption when the four of you entered, then swept out of the way as the clones gave their report to Amidala. Admittedly, the threat was not quite as laughable as you had first thought it was, but it was hardly the worst one Padmé had faced, even just in the last year. Apparently a small-time thug in the mid-rim thought he might ingratiate himself to the Trade Federation by ‘taking out’ their most hated senator. He couldn’t afford the prices of the Bounty Hunter Guild and  so, had posted smaller sums of money for anyone to take should they manage the job.

Considering Padmé had survived actual guild level assassin’s for a few years now, you weren’t that concerned.

Still, you admired the troops doing their jobs to the letter, and your lady accepted the Commander’s advice of a personal Corrie Guard escort as a precaution for the coming days. It was hardly needed. You, Dormé, and Captain Typho had always been more than enough security, but, it made the clone Commander feel better, than it couldn’t hurt.

All in all the conversation was somewhat short, and soon enough the man took his leave, ordering the other two clones to stay behind with Amidala. After that, Bail, who was amused at Padmé collecting yet another enemy, said that the rest of their meeting could wait until next time. The senators bade each other a good night and you followed your lady out of the office along with the new red painted guards.

Neither of them had said a word this whole time, but you supposed that was their right. That didn’t stop Typho from giving the clones a run down of how his guard details worked, and how he wanted the clones to integrate into that routine. 

As they talked, Padmé fell back to meet your steps. “So, you’ve met the Commander of the new Coruscant Guard,” she started, tone quiet so no one would overhear you. “Did you talk to him at all while escorting him?”

“A little, he wasn’t much of a conversationalist.”

“And? What’s your opinion of him so far? Besides his lack of extroverted tendencies, that is.”

You felt the urge to bite your lip. Overall, you hadn’t spent enough time to get a decent read on him yet, but it was still odd how much of a blank slate you were drawing when thinking up your opinion. Maybe it was his armor and helmet, how not seeing his face made it harder to gauge his reactions and thoughts. Or maybe, he was almost as good as the handmaidens when it came to hiding himself through stoicism. 

The fact that you couldn’t decide which was more likely annoyed you a little.

“Honestly? I’m…not sure what I think of him yet.”

That sentiment continued over the following week. You hadn’t expected to see the man in red quite so soon, after scheduling shifts for his men to rotate in and out of Padmé’s service, you had assumed he would move on to other tasks and concerns. 

So, imagine your surprise when you found yourself once again in the Commander’s company without Padmé. 

Once again you were in her office, working on her latest project while she and Dormé attended a charity dinner, when there was a chime indicating someone at the door. Your eyes needed a break in any case, so you pulled yourself out of your favorite armchair and rubbed your eyes as you walked to the door. Then, you felt your interest piqued when you checked the security cam and saw that red and white helmet staring expectantly at the lens. Well, at least he knocked this time. He should be glad of that for his own sake, as you were in no mood for rudeness tonight.

After straightening your back and putting on that stoic mask, you opened the door. “Good evening, Commander, what may I help you with?”

“May I speak with the Senator?”

“I’m afraid she’s out for the evening, but I should be able to help with whatever you need.”

“Very well,” He reached behind him and slid a datapad from a pouch on his belt. “I’ve reviewed the Senator’s security details based on reports my men have given me. I have some changes I’d like to make.”

A sarcastic, ‘oh you do, do you?’ almost left your mouth, but you held it in, you really must be well past tired now. He held the data pad out to you and you began reading it before you even took it in hand.

“Please, come in,” you offered with a wave, “take a seat if you’d like.” You had a feeling this was going to be a long back and forth.

He said a polite “Thank you, ma’am,” as he stepped in, but did not even glance at the various chairs in the room, opting instead to stand at attention in the center of it all.

“She won’t agree to this,” you concluded after a moment, not having even scrolled halfway through the document. “She would be appalled by the mere idea of you searching her staff’s rooms without probable cause.” Another tap on the screen. “She’d also deny the proposal to lengthen guard shifts, she tries to keep them down to 7 hours to avoid stress and,” you almost laughed at this one, “and she has never allowed guards to stay in her room at night.”

“My men would never do anything inappropriate-”

“I did not say they would,” you assured with a raise of your hand, “Amidala doesn’t even let handmaidens such as myself stay in her room anymore, it’s nothing personal.” The last thing anyone needed was a corrie guard to shoot Skywalker the next time he thought he was sneaking into her room unnoticed.

The clone was silent for just a moment, his unreadable visor trained on you as you stared back. “Are there any of my suggestions that meet your approval?”

You didn’t know if he meant to say ‘her’ and mentioned you by mistake, or if he thought that you were making it your personal mission to thwart him at every turn. He meant well, you knew that, but you could picture exactly how the conversation would go if you gave this over for her to review, and you respected his time too much to waste it.

“How about this, Commander, would you allow me to tweak these suggestions into ones my lady will consider? I will try my best to keep the heart of them intact for you.”

He shifted on his feet a little, before clasping his hands behind his back. A faint crackle of his vocator said that he might have been holding in a sigh. “I suppose that’s an agreeable compromise.”

A part of you had hoped for a thank you, after all, you were taking time out of your already heavy workload to help, but you supposed the polite nod of his helmet would do. You knew you wouldn’t be able to get comfortable in your oversized chair with him standing there like a tall armored gargoyle, so instead you sat at Padmé’s desk and began typing.

Looking back, you probably should have read the whole proposal through the first time, if you had, the last bit of it wouldn't have come as such a shock.

“I’m a subject of one of your new plans?” you asked, looking up at him and allowing just a sprinkle of incredulity onto your expression.

“Yes.”

“Care to explain why I need a clone guard of my own?”

A slight roll of his shoulders, arms still behind his back. “I researched you. You’ve been in the Senator’s employ since before she came here.”

“I have.”

“And you don’t live in the senatorial apartments like the other staff. You live alone.”

“I do.”

He was silent, which only made your annoyance flare.

“And?” it came out far more snapping than you’d meant it to, and immediately you reeled the annoyance back in. Then, much more kindly, you added, “Please, Commander, speak your mind with me.”

At that, you noticed his shoulders actually lower just a bit, a controlled version of relaxing. “Isn’t it obvious? Your close relationship with the Senator makes you a target. If any of these thugs realized how close you are to her, they’d use you to get to her. I’ll have one of my troops escort you home every night and stand guard at your apartment to ensure your safety.”

Well, wasn’t that sweet. 

In truth, his suggestion actually took you by surprise. You hadn’t thought much about what living alone for the first time in a decade might mean. The condo was a new gift from Padmé, a token of her ‘thanks’ for all your years of service, a chance to have something of your own since you had lived with her since the day you stepped foot in her palace. In truth, you knew it was a peace offering, she had to change so much of her life to accommodate that tempestuous young Jedi of hers now. 

It didn’t matter that you knew the basics of their relationship, Padmé still couldn’t hold her handmaidens as close as she once did, or the secret of her marriage might be jeopardized. So she offered you your own space, your own home while she had to push you away. It had hurt, it still hurt a little, but you understood, and loved her too much to complain. She loved that Jedi and, if putting space between you and her was what she needed, then you would give it to her without question.

You hadn’t even had time to think about what living away from her might mean regarding safety.

“I’m very impressed with your work, Commander,” you admitted eventually. “You obviously take your role to heart and Amidala herself would appreciate your thoroughness. But, I promise you, there isn’t any need to waste one of your men on me. I can take care of myself.”

“I disagree.”

The annoyance came back with a vengeance- how dare he assume that-!

“Disagree about there not being a need, ma’am,” he quickly amended, and you realized your anger must have flashed across your face. “I don’t know what your personal training has been like, but all the same, my men are trained to protect and serve. Let them do their jobs.”

You allowed yourself a calming sigh. For all his stiffness, he really was trying to be polite and you supposed you could tap into your inner politician for him. 

“Please take a seat, Commander, I see no reason for you not to be comfortable while we hash this out.”

It had been nearly a month since he, the head of the Coruscant Guard, warned that senator about the threat on her life, and the way she made no changes to her daily routine was, frankly, starting to piss him off.

“What do you mean she’s still going to attend that rally!?” He hadn’t meant to yell, especially at the brother who had just gotten off a twelve hour watch shift outside Amidala’s residence. But damn it, was he annoyed.

At least the trooper didn’t seem shaken, “Sir, I expressed my concern, but she just reiterated that-”

“That ‘no one is going to scare me into hiding’ right right, so she’s said,” the Commander finished, having heard that same line several times from the woman- and her bossy little handmaiden, over the last month. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, mind wandering over the dozens of security weaknesses this rally was sure to have. Why was it so damn important that she make some speech at a gathering for- kriff, he didn’t even remember what the topic was. Not that it mattered in the end. He was quickly realizing that this willful senator was going to give him endless migraines.

“Perhaps, assigning more troops to her will help, sir?” the shinny offered, obviously trying his best to help.

“No, we’re already stretched thin, even if I hadn’t made up the schedules for the week.” At least he managed to sound less grumpy that time, it wasn’t the kid’s fault that his new job wasn’t what he’d expected. He thought he’d be out putting blaster holes in droids right now, freeing innocent civies from seppie control in a blaze of glory. Instead, he was bowing to the simpering pleas of the chancellor and corralling feral senators like cadets in their first shooting lesson.

Alright, maybe ‘feral’ was a little harsh for Amidala, and her bossy aid. Truthfully, despite their tendencies to brush off his concerns, they at least showed some respect to him and his men, more than a lot of the politicians in the building. Not that it was his place to care about said things in the first place, he had to follow orders no matter who treated him in whatever way.

He let out a sigh. “I’ll escort her personally,” he eventually concluded. 

It was the best answer, he could put off reports or the couple of hours the rally took, and his skills were more finely honed than a majority of his men, meaning he’d more than enough. 

“Dismissed, trooper, you’re off duty.”

An attentive ‘yes, sir!’ followed that, with the familiar sound of armored feet marching out his office door. The Commander rolled his shoulders and picked up his personal data pad to double check Amidala’s schedule. He’d have to let Thorn know he wasn’t going to be in during that time slot, and ask him to take on any in-house emergencies, but, other than that, it shouldn’t be an issue.

This was going to be an interesting day.

About two hours later, his shuttle was landing on the platform outside Amidala’s residence. Always vigilant, he was greeted by her personal guard dressed in traditional Naboo attire- how nat-borns felt safe wearing nothing but cloth, he’d never know.

“Commander,” Typho, the captain of her guard, greeted, “what brings you here this time?”

“I was informed of the Senator’s plans to attend that rally,” despite my warnings and advice, “I’m here as extra security,” since, apparently, I care more about her safety than she does!

Typho smirked, the skin near his roguish eye patch crinkling, “If you insist, though, if you have more important duties to tend to, I assure you, we have everything under control.”

“If my other duties were an issue, I wouldn't be here.” The words came out more flatly than he’d intended, but Typho didn’t seem bothered as he led him through the transparisteel doors into the apartment proper.

As always there were aids and household staff running about, along with that gold protocol droid who seemed to find something to fret and cry about at all hours, according to his men. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in the residence himself in the last month and, just when a particular handmaiden came striding out of the bedroom chamber with that cool collected expression, the memory of the previous time came flooding back. 

Not many people stood their ground against a man like him, but you seemed to do it as if it were nothing. He had been demanding to see Amidala, to update her on his latest information regarding the mercenaries, but you had planted yourself between him and her door like a statue. He still remembered that blank stare you gave him, that told him everything and nothing at the same time- that somehow said a rude ‘take a hike, boy’ and a polite ‘the senator will answer your concerns at a later date’ simultaneously. It was only when he had made to shove past you a third time that you told him why he couldn’t go inside yet. Honestly, if you had just said that Amidala was undressed in the first place, he would have understood! He wasn’t that unfamiliar with nat-borns and their boundaries.

Standing in the same room again now, he felt his face get a little warm at the memory, especially when you approached him.

“Good evening, Commander,” you greeted in that smooth, even tone of yours. “Senator Amidala is getting ready for the evening’s events, and wants me to thank you for your offer of extra security.”

How did she- how would you- how could either of you possibly know why he was here already? He recovered quickly enough, clasping his hands behind his back. “Just, doing my job, ma’am.”

“Would you like anything while you wait? Something to drink perhaps? Or…a lengthy report on the event hall and its security weaknesses?”

He blinked behind his helmet, unable to tell if you were joking. Ever since that late night of debating security in Amidala’s office, you seemed a little less careful with your words when talking to him. Even if he still couldn’t always discern their actual meaning.

That was another thing about you that he noticed, his own inability to puzzle you out sometimes. One moment you were all bossy, demanding answers and actions out of him in a cooler tone than most of his COs, the next you were rather pleasant, all respectful nods and considerate questions. Like asking about his name. His name, you were the first nat-born to ever ask him if he even had one.

Even after these little encounters, he still couldn’t quite figure you out, and it was honestly starting to annoy him a little.

“I already did thorough research on the venue, so there’s no need for that,” was the answer he finally settled on.

There was that polite bow of your head again, “Of course, Commander.”

“Fox.”

He almost saw your face twitch in confusion as you looked back up at him. “Pardon?”

“You said that if I ever chose another name, to tell you. I’m Commander Fox now.”

There was the smallest little lift at the corner of your mouth. “Then, I am pleased to reacquaint myself with your name, Commander Fox.”

Fox wasn’t sure if that was some particular Naboo saying or not, but he didn’t have time to wonder as Amidala came striding out of the bedchamber. Fox snapped back to attention fast, and put everything except for protocol out of his thoughts as the evening went on.

All in all, the rally had gone… well. 

Fox stood on the sidelines, scanning the perimeter, repeatedly checking the entry points, and when Amidala gave her speech he made sure no one got even an arm’s length from the podium. You and the other handmaidens were at the woman’s side the whole time, never wavering, always at attention, always watching. Seeing all four women together for the first time, and noting how they positioned themselves around the Senator, made him realize something. 

When the handmaidens moved together, they used a formation that he and his men often did. A military formation. He’d recognize it anywhere, even if the bodies were swathed in velvety cloth instead of hard armor and the hands were tucked into sleeves instead of gripping blasters. Maybe he had more to learn about the training nat-borns went through on various planets.

Oh and…had he said the rally went well? There was an amendment to that: it went well until it all went to shit.

The meeting was over and Fox waved for the senator’s group to follow him through the back room of the venue, to where the transport was waiting outside. His eyes were keen, as always, watching, searching, but even when he didn’t spot anything, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

His fingers were just about to open the door to the outside landing pad, when your voice called out behind him. He turned and saw your brows pinched together as you pressed your finger to your ear.

“I’m not getting a response from our driver,” you said, “I think somethi-” 

He saw your eyes go wide in shock before he registered the door sliding open behind him. Fox’s body was turning on instinct, but he thought he saw a flash of silver being pulled from the velvet of your sleeve before he came face to face with a thug lifting a rifle.

Hands went to his pistols a second before the goon fired, but it was still too slow- until the thug got hit square in the chest from shot fired somewhere behind Fox. That left the Commander free to fire at the two others who where closing in on the door. The second they fell he slammed his elbow on the control panel, eyes darting across the platform to assess, even as the door slid shut.

Another punch with his hand and the door resealed itself, but it wouldn’t hold them for long. 

“I counted five,” there was your voice again, as you crouched opposite him of the entrance, holding a elegant silver blaster at the ready, “five, besides the ones we already stunned.”

“Obviously they thought they could overwhelm us with numbers instead of skill,” he heard Amidala say, completely surrounded by her guards and other handmaidens, all with blasters in hand. 

“This door won’t hold them for long,” Fox could already hear shouts and feet closing in.

That’s when he saw a mischievous kind of determination glimmer in your eyes. “Commander, if they want to trap themselves on that small platform while we hold a choke point, I say: let them.”

Despite himself, Fox smirked behind his helmet. He liked the way you thought.

“We’ll watch your back,” Typho offered, signaling his own guards to cover the only other door in the room.

“I take the left, you right?” you asked, face set, ready.

Fox gave you a second’s long look, and nodded, before he opened the door. 

The moment it hissed open there was chaos. Thankfully, the idiots on the other side couldn’t aim worth a shit. Fox had to trust that you could cover the left, which was, admittedly, not easy for him, but you had been quick enough to shoot the first gunman over his shoulder, and that gave him a little confidence.

Instead, Fox made himself focus on the two who had been trying to get the door open, their closeness making them easy pickings. Later, he might actually laugh at the sheer lack of skill and coordination the group had. He couldn't laugh, though, idiots with guns were their own kind of dangerous and he shouldn't underestimate that.

“Fox, straight ahead!” he heard you shout over the blasterfire, just as his second target fell. 

He looked up and saw a mountain sized lassat, charging at the door with a riot shield in hand, taking all their blaster shot. With barely enough time to dive out of the way, Fox didn’t even see that you had jumped up to grab a shelving unit beside the door.

Your timing was perfect.

The lassat had just barely cleared the door as you pulled on the shelf and sent it slamming into his side, the shield falling useless from his grasp. It wasn’t quite enough to fell the large man, though, and Fox- as well as the other handmaidens in the room, opened fire as the enemy rounded on you with a shout. You ducked under his large fist as the first volley of stun bolts hit him.

By Fox’s count, it took 17 shots to bring him down, and when he fell it was with a resounding thud.

Everyone held their breath for a moment, heart beat thudding in his ears. Not another shot sounded, even as you moved to sweep the doorway one last time. When you confirmed that all was clear, the room breathed again.

Fox was just about to clamber to his feet, when you walked up and extended your hand. “Are you alright, Commander?”

He grunted in reply, taking your offered hand, and felt a jolt of surprise when you hauled him up with almost no effort. A quick scan of your body assured him that you hadn’t been hit, so he turned to the room at large.

“Is everyone else alright?” Fox asked, just as he heard sirens closing in.

“We’re fine,” Amidala announced with pride, “it takes far more than a few would-be bandits to shake us, Fox.” 

“Our driver was finally able to reach us,” Typho interjected, “she managed to escape their ambush and call for back up.”

That explained the sirens. Fox pulled out the wrist binders from his belt pouch and knelt to cuff the lassat. He would have to give his report to the others when they landed, but, before they did, he had one other duty to tend to.

He straightened up, standing practically chest to chest with you as you finally relaxed and lowered your blaster. Fox liked your fire, and hadn’t misplaced his trust when he let you help him. Honestly, if today was any indicator, he’d be proud to fight beside you any day. But, rules were rules.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” his hand shot out to snatch your blaster before you could react, “but you’re in violation of code 187-24.”

“E-excuse me?!”

Fox had never seen a strong emotion on your face to date, so the look of completely anger and incredulity that crossed your face almost made him laugh.

He pushed the thought away as he waved his hands at the other handmaidens, “Neither you, or any of them are registered as personal guards in our records. Under the new Coruscant Guard Regulations, aids are not permitted to carry firearms. Now, given the newness of the codes, I can let all of you off with a warning, but this is a serious violation and further investigation may be needed.”

“Now wait just a moment, Commander!” Amidala said through her teeth as she rushed forward.

Quite a bit of squabbling now mixed with the sounds of sirens, all of it giving Fox a headache. He sighed through he helmet, honestly, he was just doing his job.

And, it was only because he was nice that he wasn’t forcing you into cuffs right there. But no one thought of that while he cleaned up this mess- the mess that also could have been avoid, had everyone just listened to him in the first place!

No one ever listened to Fox.

You should definitely be thanking him for not arresting you.

.

Tag list: @blueink-bluesoul @anxiouspineapple99 @starrylothcat @lightwise

[neptnzz]

drew this vehk a bit ago too as practice bc i hadn't drawn him in WAY too long........... i based him off of that one mk concept art / mural of the tribunal bc i love their looks there I LOVE THAT ART WRAA

[carma-tjol]

If I only could...

[shyybanshee]

what if... hear me out... racer au feat. mechanic andrew...

[hattiestgal]

Will you all allow me to make one (1) video game character fat.........

[adzy-drawz]

i forgot that people on tumblr wont kill you in the streets for shipping something so eermmm- zooble x jax doodles!! AAHH-

plus a kinda sorta short comic/scenario thing i might turn into a fanfiction because we stay mentally ill 😎

I LOVE THEM IDC. AAHHGGG

[lovelucilfer]

Sasuke isn't always the best at verbally expressing his feelings, but he is keenly observant, and he's definitely taken note of how much you seem to like flowers.

So in an attempt to surprise you, he begrudgingly enlists the help of Ino and Sakura, who upon hearing his muttered request giggle with delight as they share a glance, fluttering around the flower shop gushing over which blooms they think you'll like best. Sasuke himself stands off to the side, feigning impatience and annoyance, though he's blushing profusely behind the cover of his bangs. While Naruto, standing next to him, gives him an encouraging slap on the back with the biggest, cheesiest grin stretched across his face. But who can blame him? It's such a relief to witness his best friend finally getting a chance to experience this kind of happiness — to watch him slowly but surely falling in love with you — even if it comes at the cost of a little nervousness and embarrassment on Sasuke's part.

[siminiecricketart]

Ha ha I cannot believe in four hours I will be on a plane to go to America for the first time in my life. I am shitting it personally

[velvet-games]

okay I think the positive feedback on my past writing has, counterintuitively, made me terrified of writing something bad and prevented me from posting again lmao.

I'm gonna make a fic on ao3 where I just post stuff from my vault (scrapped stuff, drafts/wips, drabbles, ficlets, etc.) to exposure therapy myself into writing again; I will either realize that a) my shitty writing isn't actually that shitty or b) people online thinking my writing is bad does not, in fact, result in the world imploding <3

[becauseplot]

Anyway for entirely justifiable reasons (<-is a glutton for angst) I need Chayanne and Tallulah to be present when the hummingbirds come around or a note about the 'wise old crow' appears in their house, causing qPhil to have one of his derealization/reality-questioning episodes. I need it. I need it to happen SO bad. Because they’ve seen Phil get roughed up in a fight, they’ve seen him angry, they’ve seen him wary and even nervous, but they have NEVER seen him doubt like that.

People have already made posts talking about how the cage-for-a-cage/child-of-the-sky stuff has been particularly rough on qPhil, who relies heavily on his constant vigilance, keen senses, and hyper-awareness of his surroundings for reassurance. He's the kind of guy who walks into a room and has already charted at minimum two escape routes by the time he takes a seat, you know? He sees and processes and stores information on everything, at all times, and he uses this to act in the best interest of his and his loved ones' collective survival.

His kids see this side of him too, most significantly in the ways that he looks after them: always keeping an eye on the back of the group, never far from Tallulah, and constantly analyzing Chayanne's fighting style to give helpful critique to optimize his attacks. Chayanne and Tallulah know that everything he's ever done was to protect them. Also, he's always there to offer them advice when they're feeling lost, and even if he doesn't have all the answers they need, he gives enough reassurances and promises to put their minds at ease. Phil is confident in what he knows. In their eyes, he is strong. He is a fortress, safe and impenetrable.

You could say that about a lot of children's perceptions of their parents/guardians/mentors. The older, guiding forces in our lives always seemed strong and infallible to us as kids. That's why it was always unnerving to see them get sick, or get stressed, or cry. Observing weakness in those people felt so, so wrong because we never considered the fact that they were capable of it; it was just impossible.

So, the situation: Phil is suffering in a way that makes him question the very same reality that he was a master of not too long ago. Whenever it happens, he goes quiet, looks around, mutters to himself, breathes shakily, fidgets. He is visibly unnerved and uncertain.

If Chayanne and Tallulah are there, they're gonna notice---they're perceptive, just like him. I'd imagine they'd try to ask him if he's okay, and he'd reassure them that he's fine, and maybe that's enough the first time. But, as more incidents arise, and as time goes on, they start to see more of this out-of-nowhere uneasiness, fear, from him, which is worrying, especially because he won't tell them why.

NOW. Phil has been upfront about a lot of things with Chayanne and Tallulah in the past. For example, during the height of the code attacks, Phil told them everything he ever learned about the codes, every single new development, to ensure that his kids were well informed and prepared. He was frank about the threat on their lives because to sugar-coat anything would be doing them a disservice. It was important they knew all of the cold, hard facts, even if it took away even more of their precious childhood innocence. He values their happiness, but safety comes first. It has always come first.

But this is different. It's not cold hard facts. Phil doesn't know what to believe anymore. When the hummingbirds come around and his reality comes into question, he doesn't know what is real, what he can trust, what is fact. His senses have been compromised. Hell, he's still trying to convince himself that he's not going crazy when all evidence seems to suggest that he's losing his goddamn mind. He doesn't know what to tell his kids, so he tells them nothing.

So now here stands Chayanne and Tallulah. There is something that is scaring their dad, and he won't tell them what is, so on top of the knowledge that their unwavering father is, in fact, capable of true, genuine fear, he's suddenly keeping things from them. Their dad is keeping things from them because he is scared. And I can't imagine a realization more terrifying than that.

[aeb-art]

cringe is dead or whatever so… here's a super rough comic about geo getting smooched at a new year's eve party o7 (the mall toons of course belong to @8um8le)

happy new year, go kiss a robot xoxo

[ypipie]

i havent attempted to animate at all since like 2018 go easy on me

[sermna]

I'm registered for classes!! Three psych courses aaaaaand Spanish 👍

[weaveandwood]

The Bard and The Blade Chapter 1: What a Day

Wyll/Named Tav | Slow Burn | Read on AO3

Summary:

What if you met your favorite hero and they fell in love with you?

He stuck out his hand to shake hers for an introduction. “Wyll Ravengard, Blade of -”  “- Blade of Frontiers, I know. Big fan here.” Rosalind interrupted as she shook his hand, actually shook his hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted, that was rude. I’m Rosalind Sunlark,” she introduced herself. She thought she saw a flash of recognition cross his eyes, but it passed in less than a moment before their minds connected, which meant The Blade had also been on the mindflayer ship.  “Seems like we’re in the same predicament,” he said, his smile replaced with a serious countenance.

AN: I had a lot of fun writing this! I hope you enjoy my new fic!

Rosalind Sunlark was having a weird as hell day. 

Waking up on a mindflayer ship? Having a tadpole in her brain that will turn her into a mindflayer? Somehow surviving a fall out of a crashing ship that should have killed her if not for some magical force? 

Pulling a wizard out of a rock?

Fine - just another day on the Sword Coast, if she was being honest. Weird things happen here on the daily. She had sung about most of them, it felt like, when she performed at her favorite coffee houses and taverns in Baldur’s Gate.

But seeing The Blade of Frontiers? It was too much. Her brain was having trouble reconciling what her eyes were seeing. She recognized him immediately, and even if she hadn’t, he did that thing that folk heroes do and introduced himself to his enemies while brandishing his rapier. He was the folk hero she sang about the most, the subject of stories she wanted to pass on to everyone in her vicinity whether they wanted to hear it or not, the person who legends should be written about. He was The Blade of freaking Frontiers.

In front of her. Wielding a blade. Taking down goblins without getting so much as a scratch.

She needed to sit down. 

An arrow shot past her, the draft causing strands of her hair to rustle as it flew by. She shook her head and blinked twice, remembering she was in the middle of a battle, helping the Blade of Frontiers. She aimed her crossbow at a particularly ugly goblin and amplified her voice. 

“Pernicious, putrifying pissant!”

The goblin winced and was distracted as her crossbow bolt found its mark, taking the goblin down completely. 

“Nice shot!” she heard from across the clearing. From The Blade himself. She smiled and gave what was potentially the most awkward wave she had ever given. She was going to pass out.

What a great day Rosalind Sunlark was having. 

******

“Nice shot!” 

Wyll did a double take when he saw who shot the bolt that took down a goblin in one fell swoop, having to stifle a chuckle at the vicious mockery the bard uttered from across the field before shooting. The bard looked familiar, somehow. Something tickled at the back of his mind, and he was positive it wasn’t his brain’s new houseguest, courtesy of the mindflayers. Was that…surely it couldn’t be The Sunlark? Not all the way out here. She was a firm fixture of the Baldur’s Gate music scene. And yet…

Clang! The sound of his steel against a goblin’s brought him back to the task at hand. He needed to focus, the Blade of Frontiers didn’t get distracted by a pretty girl who was a good shot. 

He saw the flash of bright, almost white-blonde hair as the bard assisted one of her party, a wizard from the looks of it, with a healing spell then rammed a shortsword into the nearest enemy’s stomach with a shout of desperation. 

He smiled to himself as he ran his rapier through the last of the goblins. He most definitely would get distracted by pretty girls who were good shots and absolutely brutal in battle, even if her fighting skills were a little raw. 

Especially this one, if she was who he thought she was. 

He was transported back to Baldur’s Gate on a warm summer evening when he was almost seventeen, walking through the streets with a few of his friends, sons of other nobles. He didn’t get much time to himself after his studies - his father, newly promoted to Grand Duke, thought his time was better spent training with the sword to eventually take his place as a Flaming Fist, then as Grand Duke in the future, so he relished the time he got to spend with them, being as normal as sons of nobles could be - swimming naked in fountains, wandering about the lower city, participating in minor mischief that only sons of men with privilege would be able to get away with. If he was being honest, though, they were mostly looking at pretty girls and talking about adventures they wanted to have outside of the city.

Strolling down one of the larger plazas in the lower city, they were all laughing and joking about some prank they had just pulled when he heard the faintest melody of a lute, a soft mezzo soprano voice drifting over the din of the crowd who were all absorbed in their own conversations and cups of wine. He looked around and saw a bard sitting at the far side of the plaza. The dancing lights surrounding her cast a warm glow, like she was illuminated by fifty candles. Her light white-blonde hair was practically incandescent as she sang, and her voice made him want to move closer and closer. There was a small crowd, maybe twenty or so people, standing around her, watching and swaying back and forth to the music. 

He was transfixed, even at that distance. A hand waved in front of his eyes, drawing his attention back to his friends. 

“Wyll, you there, man?” He said with a laugh. “We’re going to go get some drinks at the Elfsong, you in?” 

He looked back at the bard. “You guys go on without me, I think I’m going to stay here a little while longer. I’ll meet up with you there.” 

******

“Wow, that guy was a prick,” Rosalind remarked, reaching out a hand to help Zevlor to his feet after getting clocked by Aradin despite her attempts at defusing the situation. “You okay?” 

Zevlor affirmed he was fine and started talking about the tensions in the grove between the tiefling refugees and the druids. Rosalind tried to pay attention, she really did, but when she looked over Zevlor’s shoulder, she saw a glimpse of a training platform with small tiefling kids being taught how to swordfight. It looked like they had a guest teacher - it was him. Now was her chance to introduce herself. Gods, what if he - 

She startled as Gale elbowed her in the ribs, bringing her attention back to where it should have been. Zevlor looked at her, confused. She definitely should have been listening instead of daydreaming.

“I’m so sorry, what was the question? I must have gotten hit in the head during that battle,” she laughed, trying to play off how rude she was being. 

“I asked your name,” the tiefling said, smiling warmly at her. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry! I’m Rosalind. And this is Gale, Shadowheart, and Astarion,” she smiled as she made introductions. Gale was the most exuberant of all of them, eager to learn more about the tieflings and their journey out of Elturel. Normally, Rosalind would be eager to learn more too, to add to her lore as potential material for future songs. The journey of the tieflings would actually be pretty epic, but…him. She felt her gaze drifting back to the training session.

Astarion leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Have your eye on a certain handsome hero? It looks like Gale has this under control by not shutting up so now is your chance - go.” She nodded and slinked off, attempting to be discreet about it. She smiled to herself. She knew it was a good idea to invite the pale elf on their journey, she liked him already. 

As she got closer to the platform, her heart started beating faster and faster. She hadn’t felt nerves like this since her first paid performance in that large plaza in Baldur’s Gate all those years ago - gods she must have been only seventeen. She shook her hands and exhaled, trying to calm herself before stopping a few feet away to watch for a minute. 

“You don’t have to be as good as me, you just have to buy yourself enough time to be able to run,” she heard him tell a child. Such a frightening scenario for one so small, but a strategy she knew all too well from her own childhood. 

The Blade of Frontiers noticed her standing near the platform and smiled at her. Don’t pass out, don’t pass out, she thought. 

“You had some pretty great shots out there, any advice for these kids?” He said as he beckoned her to come closer with a nod of his head. After looking around to make sure he wasn’t talking to someone else, Rosalind stepped up onto the platform and put on her cool, calm, and collected face, even though inside she was a storm of nerves and excitement. 

“Alright,” she crouched down to be at eye level with the kids. “Be sure to back up your friends. You’ll only get through a fight if you stick together. And then you can tell all your other friends stories about your heroics. Then they tell their friends, and they tell their friends, one of whom happens to be a bard, and that’s how legends are started.” The kids cheered and raised their wooden swords before their instructor urged them to take a break and get a drink of water, leaving her alone on the platform with The Blade. She smiled as she stood up. 

He stuck out his hand to shake hers for an introduction. “Wyll Ravengard, Blade of -” 

“- Blade of Frontiers, I know. Big fan here.” Rosalind interrupted as she shook his hand, actually shook his hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted, that was rude. I’m Rosalind Sunlark,” she introduced herself. She thought she saw a flash of recognition cross his eyes, but it passed in less than a moment before their minds connected, which meant The Blade had also been on the mindflayer ship. 

“Seems like we’re in the same predicament,” he said, his smile replaced with a serious countenance.

“Indeed it does.” She took a deep breath. Now or never. “I know you’re The Blade of Frontiers and all, but my party all has the same affliction. We’re looking for a healer and you’re welcome to join. If you want. If not, that’s alright. Totally fine. I’m sure you’re busy.” She was rambling. Why did she ramble when she got nervous? Singing in front of hundreds of people was easier than talking to him. 

“Actually -” The tadpoles connected their brains again, interrupting Wyll. The image of a devil’s advocate flashed through their linked visions. Wyll laughed softly, “As I was saying, actually that sounds great, but I am currently hunting down a devil who will lay waste to the Sword Coast if not dealt with.”

“Hmmm…two big problems at once. How about you join us and we can help you hunt this devil down? We may not be seasoned heroes, but I do have a wizard that seems to know what he’s doing most of the time. That has to count for something, right?” She smiled at Wyll. Why did that name sound familiar?

He gave her an easy smile. Gods, that smile already made her weak in the knees and she only knew him for five minutes. “That sounds like a plan. I have some things to take care of, but I will meet up with you in a few hours. Until then, please, explore the grove and speak with these tieflings. I imagine their stories would provide a bard with plenty of material. Maybe help spread a kind word about the refugees.”

“How did you know I was…right! The violin strapped to my back,” she laughed. “Obviously.”

“And your fighting style. Very impressive insults - I almost felt bad for those goblins. Almost.”

“Well, growing up in the Outer and Lower Cities of Baldur’s Gates does wonders for one’s vocabulary,” she said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gale, Shadowheart, and Astarion attempting to haggle with the merchant at the entrance of the caves. Poor guy. “I better go see what they’re up to. Meet outside the grove in a few hours?” 

“Absolutely. It was a pleasure meeting you, Rosalind,” he smiled at her and gave a half bow with a funny little flourish and walked away. 

She exhaled deeply, puffing out her cheeks as she watched him leave. Not only was he handsome, compelling, and good with the blade, he was kind, a good teacher, and going to join their party?

Oh, she was in trouble.

Big trouble. 

Worse trouble than the tadpole.

[sweet-marigold]

Tommorows prompt is scars 🥲

Only three angst panels the others r fluff tho :)

Also why r tumblrs filters sorta really cool

[goodlucksnez]

Hanahaki Disease victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear/memories as well.

But because im a snzfucker, instead of coughing i made it sneezing! also being allergic to your love interest favorite flower is such a great concept and i wanted to explore it more!!!

And because May @waterfallofspace is a amazing person & a gem and I care about them-- I made this whole idea for G/eto and G/o/jo sooooo enjoy this 16/17 min wav!! yes i HC ge/t/o favorite flowers are sunflowers idk why i went with it- also sorry if the ending is very rushed im bad at ending things haha.

time frame: over 18+ of course but idk somewhere before he turned evil ahah you pick the timeframe

cw: sneezing,coughing, sniffling,play teasing,there are some quite parts so i aplogize for that i hope you can hear everything! Walking around sounds, playful fighting, speaking in there own head (reverb effect), slow burn, love confession, mentions of surgy and medical stuff, mentions of dying/death.some kissing sound effects at the end, probably other stuff but yeah.

please no re-blogging to non-kink blogs

18+

minors fuck off