The War Chest
A Magic and Knights AU
Summary: It’s been fifty years since the war between Mandalore and Serrano ended. A war that ended with an uneasy peace between the two nations…an uneasy peace that has since grown into something stronger. You are a daughter of one of the Noble Houses of Serrano, though only through marriage. You stand to inherit nothing from your step-family, unlike your mother. So, in an attempt to get your feet under you, you turn to treasure hunting.
Pairing: Pre Kix x F!Reader
Word Count: 5400
Warnings: None
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @the-bad-batch-baroness
A/N: So, I know Kix already has a story in this AU, but I'm giving him another one that is unconnected from the last one. This one, I think, fits a little better with the rest of the stories. Also, there's a fun little twist at the end that I'm not sure about, honestly. Anyway, I started writing this at 8 am and it's now 2 pm, and I managed to write it without any breaks. Go me~
“Rumor has it,” You arch a single brow as the man you’re talking to, a pirate who you’ve had more than one run in with, “That Count Dooku’s War Chest has been discovered.”
You wave your hand as if brushing the rumor aside, “Everyone knows that Dooku’s War Chest was propaganda from Mandalore.” You counter with a roll of your eyes.
“That was the accepted fact. 50 years ago.” He leans into your space and you lean back to try and keep him from breathing in your face, “Come on, girlie. You’re not even remotely curious.”
“I’m far more interested in facts, Shen. Not fairy tales.”
“Bah! You’re no fun.”
“If you want someone willing to chase fairy tales, you should be talking to Lyna, not me.” You eye your drink, and then push it to the side.
“Lyna is an archeologist,” Shen counters bitterly, “She’s all, ‘this belongs in a museum’ and ‘we should return this to its rightful owner’. She’s even less fun than you!”
“Come on, you tell her about Dooku’s war chest, and she’ll be all over it,” You say as you lean back in your chair, “Can you give me anything more than fairy tales?”
“No.” He folds his arms, “You were more fun when you were running with the crew.”
“Yeah, yeah. So you’ve mentioned. If you’re not going to try and help, you can take off. Find some other patsy to do the research for you.”
Shen scowls at you, and then pushes to his feet and storms away. He hasn’t changed since you were kids, tragic but understandable.
In any event, you’re not going to get any intel on your next score here. So you suppose that the archives is your next destination. Which is a shame, the archivists are always so annoying when you decide to visit.
They’re all, “Oh, Lady Nalcin has come for a visit!” Which is annoying since, A, you’re not Lady Nalcin, that position belongs to your mother. And B, you don’t even carry that Nalcin last name, seeing as your father is still alive.
Mother just had to marry Serrano nobility, didn’t she.
You push away from the table and shove your hands into your pockets as you meander through the bar. You step through the open door, into the cool air of the autumn evening and you inhale deeply.
You love this time of year. Not too hot, not too cold, and none of the plants you’re allergic to are spewing pollen. If you could live someplace where it’s autumn year round, you’d be a happy woman.
Tragically, such places don’t exist.
You turn to the left, starting towards the inn you’re staying at for the time being, when you hear heavy footsteps behind you. You tense and half turn, your baton falling into your hand from where it’s stored in your sleeve.
And then you turn properly.
The person running up to you looks like a college students, slightly younger than you, with wide eyes hidden behind thick glasses. She’s gasping for breath, and is barely able to say your name
But, garbled as it is, she does say your name.
You slide your baton back up your sleeve, and take a good look at her. She’s well dressed, and she’s wearing a brooch that marks her as a daughter of one of the High Houses. She’s also nearly bent in two trying to catch her breath.
“...are you okay?” You ask, after watching her gasp for air for a moment.
“I-” She gasps out, “Not fit-”
“...I can tell.”
The younger woman takes a deep breath and then straightens, “My name is Evie Wilsi, I’m the oldest daughter of House Wilsi. You are the daughter of Lord Nalcin, right?”
“Step-daughter.” You correct flatly.
“Yes. That.” She takes a step towards you, “You’re…something of an archeologist, right?”
“In a manner of speaking, sure.”
“I want to hire you!”
“...what?”
The girl flushes, “I…um…sorry. I would like to hire you, please.”
You stare at her and arch a single brow, waiting for her to continue.
“I want to hire you to find Dooku’s war-” You roll your eyes and turn your back on her to walk away, “W-wait!” She grabs your wrist and then scrambles so she’s standing in front of you, “I know that this sounds…insane-”
“Dooku’s War Chest doesn’t exist.” You say flatly, “It was a rumor. No more.”
“I have reason to believe that it does exist.”
You sigh and shake your head, “Look, Miss Wilsi, I don’t chase fairy tales. Period.” You tug your hand out of her loose grip and step around her to continue to the inn.
“2 million.”
You stop mid-step, and turn your head to stare at her, “I beg your pardon.”
Her hands are clenched into fists near her chin, “Two million credits. You’ll get two million credits just for taking the contract, and another two million when you find the war chest.”
You turn to face her fully, “And if the war chest doesn’t exist?”
“Then…then you’ll still get the second half of your payment. But only after you exhaust all avenues.”
“And you can afford this?”
“Yes.”
Your eyes narrow at her, “Prove it.”
She nods and pulls out her comm, pulling up her banking information, before she turns the device towards you. You glance at the number on the screen and your brows raise, “Four million credits is almost your entire bank account, is this worth that much to you?”
“Yes.” She stows her comm again, “It’s…everything to me.”
You fold your arms, and shift your weight slightly as you examine her. Over the years, you’ve become very good at reading people. Part of it is your natural magic, an innate ability to read intentions off of people, most of it, however, is just experience.
She’s being honest.
Not only does she believe that the War Chest is real, it really does mean everything to her.
You drop your arms, “Fine. But I want to be paid immediately.”
“Deal! Is there someplace we can…talk?”
You turn your back on her, and start walking away, and then you pause and glance over your shoulder, “Follow.” You don’t want to see if she’s following your instructions, you just start walking, your feet leading you to your favorite food cart.
“A…food cart?”
“Don’t knock it til you try it,” You reply as you order a caf and move to the side to wait until it’s done. Your maybe employer’s nose is scrunched up in distaste.
“Is this where you want to talk?”
“Surrounded by people? No.” You accept the cup of caf, and motion for her to keep following you. You lead her down several winding roads, and then make a sharp left into the biggest cemetery in the area.
You notice her hesitate at the gate, but you don’t slow down. If this means as much to her as she implies, as much as your magic is telling you it means to her, she’ll follow you anyway.
And you’re right.
Though she dithers at the gate for half a minute, eventually she hurries to catch up with you as you head into the older parts of the cemetery. As soon as you’re sure that there isn’t anyone around you can listen in on your conversation, no one alive at least, you perch yourself on the worn down stone wall and stare at the other woman.
“Alright. I’m all ears.”
“Here?” She asks, her voice hushed, “Isn’t it…disrespectful?”
You just tilt your head, “People don’t come to this part of the cemetery, which means no one can eavesdrop.”
“Right. Right.” Evie paces in front of you for a moment, and then she stops, “How much do you know of the Six Great Houses?”
“Assume I know nothing.”
“Right. Right! Okay. I can work with that.” Her hands curl into fists again, “There is a hierarchy to the six families, with House Dooku at the top of the pyramid, and House Wilsi at the bottom. House Nalcin is nearer to the top than the bottom.”
You lean back on the wall and take a sip of your caf, waiting for her to continue.
“This is why, 50 years ago, it was so easy for House Dooku to incite a war with Mandalore.” Evie continues.
“As I understand it,” You interrupt, “House Dooku was manipulated into it by what’s his face from Naboo.”
Evie looks genuinely pained, “You mean Court Wizard Palpatine?”
“That’s the bitch.”
She takes a deep breath, “You’re right. He was, and it was only after Count Dooku was killed that we were able to sue for peace-”
You sigh heavily, “Evie, what does this have to do with the price of chicken in Corellia?”
“...what?”
“Why does this matter?”
“Oh. Well, my family lost a lot of clout during the war…we sided with House Dooku. It seemed like a politically sound choice…so when the peace treaty was signed…we lost almost all of our status. We almost lost our noble name.”
“And?”
“And, finding Dooku’s war chest will do so much in helping us recover from this.”
“If it exists.”
“It does! It does. I’ve been researching this for years, my whole family has, and we have a solid lead.” Evie says as she steps closer to you, “It’s…here.” She digs into her purse and shoves a thin notebook at you, “All of the evidence is there, if you know where to look-”
You set your cup to the side and flip the notebook open, every page is filled with different handwriting. The notebook has clearly been in the works for years.
“Count Dooku had a safe house. He had many safe houses, in many different countries. But in the middle of the war, he vanished for three months. My family thinks he went to Hoth.”
You arch a brow, “Well, if that’s where he decided to hide his war chest, it explains why no one has found it.”
“Yes! Exactly. According to records, Count Dooku’s safe house was up in the mountains of Hoth, which would be nearly impossible for anyone to traverse at the time-”
“It’s still impossible to traverse.” You point out, “The storms of Hoth never stop, and you need special gear and equipment to survive even the lower parts-”
“Yes, but you’ve done the impossible before.” Evie says, “I mean, you’re the one who found Palpatine’s palace in Mustafar-”
“You’re not wrong, I just hate that you mentioned it.” You mutter.
“Can you help?”
You stare at her, silently, for a moment, and then you sigh and nod. “Yeah, alright.”
“Really! Oh, this is-”
You hold up a finger, silencing her, “Several conditions. 1, I hold on to this for as long as it takes for me to read it cover to cover.”
“Deal!”
“2, you are coming with me. It’s the only way for your family to get all of the credit.”
“Of course. I’ll even pay for everything we need to survive-”
“3,” You interrupt again, “We can’t leave for 6 months.”
“...what! Why?”
“I’m not fool enough to try and climb a mountain in Hoth in the dead of winter. And good luck trying to find anyone who will.” You say flatly.
“...you raise a fair point. So we’ll head out in the spring.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Evie claps her hands together in excitement, “Oh! You won’t regret this! I promise.”
Your gaze drifts off of her, lingering on a dark thread connecting Evie with something else, a thread that only you can see with your magic, “Well,” You murmur, “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it.”
“Hm?” Evie tilts her head, “Oh! Right, payment.” She pulls her comm out and hurriedly, very hurriedly, sends you the two million credits that you’re owed for taking her contract.
You watch your bank account shoot up, and then promptly move the money from that account into your personal account, “I need your comm code,” You say once that’s done, “I’ll call you when we’re ready to leave.”
“I can’t wait!”
And then Evie is gone, hurrying out of the cemetery with none of the grace that you’d expect to see from a lady of her standing.
You watch her leave, and then pick up your cup of caf and take a sip, while eyeing the notebook thoughtfully, “Well, it won’t be boring at least.”
7 Months Later
Hoth is a miserable place.
Frigid even in the dead of summer, with very few animals that won’t kill you as soon as they see you.
True to her word, Evie did prepare everything that you might need for an expedition, and then some. You have a base camp, vehicles that are suited for the freezing weather, and cold weather gear that is light enough to move in, yet heavy enough to protect you from the biting wind.
There are also people. So many people. Aides and attendants, and bodyguards. Not to mention maids and chefs and butlers. You’re not impressed, at all.
“So, I was thinking we’d go up the mountain in the morning?” Evie says, her eyes alight with some emotion that you don’t want to think too hard about.
“Mm, bad idea.” You reply, as you eye a group of men that you know come from a Merc Group, “There’s a bad storm rolling in, we go out in it, we don’t come back.”
“Oh, really?” She glances at the monitor and makes a face at the massive storm rushing in, “I should tell the others to prepare for the storm.” Evie mumbles, before she gets to her feet and hurries out of the room.
You’re alone for a moment, before one of the mercs brushes past you. “You should know,” He murmurs, his voice low, “The moment you find this treasure, we have orders to remove you from the equation.”
“Hmm.”
“You saved my life that day on Taris, this is me returning the favor.”
“Noted.” He glances at you, and then continues walking. The exchange took less than 5 seconds.
Luckily, you prepared for this exact scenario.
It’s not like this is the first time a client has betrayed you, after all.
You remain in the monitoring room for a bit longer, watching the storm build and grow in strength, and then, when you’re sure it’s late enough, you meander to your “room”.
You waste some time in your room, packing what few items you need to be able to survive in the storm, and then you cut out the lights, and you wait.
One hour passes. And then two.
And finally the lights dim in the hallway, and you know it’s time to go.
You don the severe weather gear that you bought yourself, grab your bag, the notebook, and you slip out the window.
As you figure, you have about five hours before anyone notices that you’re missing, and by the time they notice you’re gone, the storm will have erased any and all evidence of where you might have gone.
You walk quickly through the snow, wanting to get as far as you can before the storm hits. Though, you do take the time to veer towards a ravine just long enough to toss the notebook as well as a decoy pack down the ravine. With luck, anyone chasing you will think that you succumbed to the storm and nature.
The trick won’t work for long, but it will buy you a couple of hours, at the minimum.
That done, and with a storm moving in, you veer towards the mountain range. According to some of the notes you decoded, Count Dooku had pathways dug through all of the mountain ranges. You just need to find an entrance.
Luckily for you, Dooku wasn’t half as clever as he thought he was, and you were able to find an entrance in less than two hours. Unluckily, the passageways aren’t heated or lit.
You dig around in your pocket for your lamp sphere and light it with a touch of magic, ordering it to circle your head as you walk through the empty tunnels.
“Let’s see,” You say, aloud, to yourself, “If I was Dooku and needed to hide a war chest, where would I hide it?” You look around, peering down identical dark passages, and you sigh.
If you have to search every passage, you’ll be here for ages. There has to be an easier way.
You close your eyes for a moment, and focus your magic on your eyes, and then open them again.
Your natural magic isn’t the most useful for your chosen career path. You can see intentions, which is useful in foreign countries when it comes to bartering and when dealing with clients.
It is an innate magic, you don’t have to focus on it at all.
However, if you focus your magic on your eyes, and if you’re lucky, sometimes you can see traces of people’s intentions. Memories, written on the world around them.
It’s a desperate act. Dooku has been dead for almost fifty years. The odds of any of his intentions having been strong enough to leave an echo so far into the future is…unlikely, but you have to try.
As you fear, there’s no hint of intention in any of the passages.
You’re about to power down your magic, when you catch a glimpse of something higher than where you are. You focus your gaze on the dim glow and you frown.
The intention is…strong, but faint at the same time.
You puzzle through what you’re seeing. Strong implies that someone is actively in the passages with you. But the faintness implies…slumber, perhaps. Maybe someone lives in these passages.
Well, it’s better than continuing blind.
So you mentally mark the location in your head, and you start heading that way.
It takes time, though, to find the right path that will take you to the right level. The passageways were designed as a labyrinth, and you wonder if the passages aren’t complete, or if Dooku was just that paranoid near the end of his life.
You’ve never heard one way or the other.
But finally, after many dead ends, several looping paths, and one time when you thought you were going up but were actually going down, you reach a door.
You send a silent prayer to the patron god or treasure hunters, and then push the door open.
It creaks loudly, and another hard push causes it to fall inwards. “Whoops.” You whisper as dirt and dust swells around you. You wave the dust away from your face, and then step into the room properly.
It’s…empty.
Well, okay. Not really empty.
There, sitting in the middle of the room, is a massive crystal formation.
It looks man-made, to your eyes. Crystals don’t generally grow in such a deliberate way, at least not in your experience.
You move closer to the crystal and circle it, your eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
Now that you’re closer, it looks like there’s something inside it. You press your hand against the stone and try to peer through the cloudy material, but you might as well be trying to look through a solid wall.
You rip your gloves off, and press your bare hands against the planes of the crystal. Slowly you feel around the edges of each plane you can reach. And then…there, near the bottom, on the opposite side of where you started, you find a single sigil carved into the crystal.
Now, sigils and runes are basic magic.
It is, quite literally, magic 101.
But you’ve never been interested in modern runes or sigils, preferring to focus more on the more ancient versions that you normally encounter while on your treasure hunts.
That said, runes are runes, right?
They all get activated in the same way.
So you pull your hand back and summon a small amount of magic to your fingertips, and press your fingers against the sigil. “Please don’t be a bomb.”
For a moment, nothing happens, and then there’s a loud crack. And then another one. And a third.
And you’re forced to dive out of the way as the crystal shatters, sending large shards crumbling to the ground.
Then you see what was in the middle of the crystal, and your heart sinks.
It’s a man. Maybe about the same age as you, or a bit older, with a strict military cut and a five o’clock shadow. He’s wearing mandalorian armor, with the symbol of the medical corps on his shoulders.
You hurry over to him and kneel next to his head as he releases a low groan. You push your hood off your head, and tug your scarf down and goggles up as his eyes flutter open.
He looks like-
Your lips turn down in thought.
“Hey, can you hear me?” You ask, shoving your concerns to the side.
“Y-yes,” His voice is raspy and he blinks a couple of times, as if trying to clear his vision.
“What’s your name, soldier?” You ask, as you help him sit up.
“Kix…M’name is Kix.” He groans as you sit him up and he looks around the room, and then at you, “Your accent…you’re not Mandalorian.”
It’s not a question.
“Good ear,” You pull your bag off your back and dig through it, please let you have enough cold weather gear for him. “I’m Corellian, born and raised.” Kriff, you don’t.
Kix looks around, sharpness sliding through his gaze as he shakes off the sleep, “This isn’t Corellia.”
“That is correct.” You reply, before cursing, “How good is that at keeping you warm?” You ask with a nod towards his armor, and the helmet laying half forgotten in the shards of crystal.
“Good enough.” He lets out a pained groan as he gets to his feet, “Why?”
“Well, because it’s a wee bit chilly outside, on account of us being in Hoth.” You reply dryly and you stand and grab his helmet. You make sure that there aren’t any crystals inside the helmet and you offer it to him.
“...Hoth?”
“The one and the same.”
“What is a Corellian doing here?” Kix asks suspiciously.
“Well, I was hired to find Dooku’s war chest.” You glance at the crystal shards, and then at Kix, “And I found it, apparently. I’m not generally in the business of saving people, but I suppose I’ll make an exception.”
“...what?”
You glance to the side when you hear, what sounds like, magic explosions, “Times up, I’m afraid.” You look around, and then find another door, “This way, hopefully this door stood the test of time better than that one.” You pull your scarf and hood back on, “Put your helmet on, it’s freezing.”
Kix pulls his helmet on, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “What’s going on? What’s with the explosions?”
You glance at him, before you focus on the door, “Oh. My former employers. The Wilsi family from Serrano. I was informed that they were going to kill me once I found the War Chest, so I decided to cancel the contract.”
“You keep mentioning this war chest, what is it?” Kix asks as he walks over to you and helps you open the door wide enough that the pair of you are able to leave the room.
“Well, unless we find a vault full of riches, I think it’s you.”
Kix pauses, “What?”
You glance at him, “There’s no easy way to say this, but it’s been 50 years since the war between Serrano and Mandalore ended.” He freezes, and you quickly tug him out of the room and shut the door, “Listen to me, Kix, I know that this is a shock to you. I know that. But if we don’t start moving, we die here. Can you contain your totally understandable freak out until we’re somewhere safe?”
It’s kind of eerie, having that blank helmet staring at you, but slowly Kix nods, and you release a sigh of relief.
“Come on, this place is like a maze. Maybe we can use that to our advantage.” You turn to the left, and Kix falls into step behind you.
All you have to do is find a way out, and make sure that neither you, nor Kix, die. And then, somehow, get him back to Mandalore.
No pressure.
“Can we take a break, please?” Kix asks as he helps her close another door, leaving the pair of them in a slightly warmer room, “I can’t hear the explosions anymore.”
She frowns, though it’s only noticeable because she pulled her scarf down a little bit ago. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve apparently been in stasis for fifty years-” And isn’t that a kicker, how is he supposed to deal with that? How can he deal with that? His brothers are all going to be in their 70s- “I just need a break, that’s all.”
She nods, and tugs her hood down, before she sits on a rock, stretching her legs out in front of her. Kix watches her for a moment, before he sits on another rock, “So…who are you, anyway?”
She blinks, and then laughs, “Sorry, I never actually introduced myself, did I?” She introduces herself with a slightly crooked smile, “My mother would have my head for such rudeness.”
“And what is it that you do?”
“I’m an archeologist. Technically. That’s what my degree says at least.” Her name, something long and complicated, does not suit her at all. So Kix makes a mental note to just call her runi, and then moves along.
“That sounds like you don’t actually do archeology, runi.”
“Eh, I go to old places and look for old things to sell to people who would rather stay safe than do things.” She waves her hand.
“Ah.”
“What?”
“You’re a tomb robber.”
“I am not!”
“Oh, so you have permission to take these items then.” Kix asks.
“I…well..not exactly. But I haven’t exactly been denied permission either-”
Kix smirks, “Tomb robber.”
“Yeah…well..what do you do?”
“I’m a medic. A perfectly respectable career that isn’t illegal.” Kix replies.
She huffs, but doesn’t respond, so Kix takes it as a win.
“So, I assume you have a plan?” He asks, “To get us out of this mess.”
“I have a broad idea of what needs to happen, but as for the details…not so much.”
“...what?”
“Why plan? I mean, they never work out like they’re supposed to.” She shrugs, “But in the end, I do intend to get you back to Mandalore.
“And you’re going to do this without a plan?” Kix asks.
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
He heaves out a sigh and then stands and pulls his helmet back on, “Maybe I should stick around with you. Stars know how you haven’t been killed yet.”
“Rude,” She scowls at him, but scrambles to her feet and pulls her cold weather gear on as well, “I-” She pauses and her head snaps to the side, “Motherkarking-...they’re planning on blowing up some of the tunnels. We need to go up and…over, I think.”
“Then let’s go. I’ll follow you.”
Kix watches as she leads him through the winding halls, pausing every now and then as though she’s following a path that only she can see. Having some kind of magic would make her survival a lot more understandable, all things considered.
He very nearly stumbles as a massive explosion makes the whole mountain shake, and Kix has to tackle runi through a door to keep them both from being crushed.
Turns out to have been a good thing, as the room they ended up in had a single set of stairs that lead somewhere else. It’s good enough for Kix, as he hoists runi to her feet and ushers her to the stairs and up.
And up.
And up.
Finally she throws open a door at the top of the stairs and they find themselves in a workshop of some kind.
“This must be where Dooku did his magical studies,” She notes as she peers at some of the books lining the walls.
“Wouldn’t there be a teleportation circle in here somewhere?” Kix asks, thinking back to the wizards tower back in Mandalore.
“Well, yeah. Probably. But I’m not wizard, I might be able to make it trigger it’s last destination, but-”
“This mountain is coming down, like it or not. Anywhere is better than here.”
“Ugh…fine! Help me find it.”
The pair search frantically around the room, before Kix lets out a shout of triumph. “Found it!” Runi hurries over to him and, with Kix’s help, clears the teleportation circle.
“Um…let’s see, it looks like it’s set to teleport somewhere…west?” She says as she scans the runes.
“West is good enough.” Kix shoves her into the circle as the building trembles, “Can you activate it?”
“Can I activate it.” She scoffs, “Of course I can activate it, but I have no control over where we land.”
“Better there than here,” Kix points out logically, and she makes a face, but clearly doesn’t disagree.
The runes start to glow, faintly at first, and then brighter.
Runi pulls her hands away from the seals, her eyes widening in panic, “Oh…oh bad…”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Um…” She turns panicked eyes on him, “The runes and sigils are reacting to the magic of the explosions…they…this is bad.”
“What’s the worst that can happen?” Kix asks, and runi opens her mouth to reply, but before she can say anything the teleportation circle activates.
It’s the most painful thing that Kix has ever felt in his life, and he’s almost grateful when he blacks out.
His last coherent thought is that he hopes runi is okay.
Kix wakes with a groan, this is beginning to become a habit for him. His everything is throbbing in pain, and it’s funny but his first thought was to question where his armor went.
“Easy there, vod. You’re okay.”
Kix squints at the man, one of his brothers, “-where?”
“You’re on the Resolute. We found you and the civvie passed out near a bombed out building. Seems like you threw yourself over her to save her.” Kix blinks a couple more times and finally he recognizes Vacc, one of the men he trained.
“...civvie?”
Vacc helps Kix sit up, and there’s a slightly jarring sensation when he realizes that he doesn’t recognize the medical bay. It’s…whiter and starker and has a lot less magical healing equipment than he’s used to. “Over there.” He motions to runi clad in some kind of medical attire, “She hasn’t said a word since she woke up.”
She’s curled up on the bed, her knees pulled up to her chin and her hands tangled in her hair. She lifts her gaze to meet his, and as soon as their gaze meets, her gaze darts to the portside window.
Kix follows her gaze, and his breath catches in his throat.
The Resolute was a sea-faring vessel.
But, for whatever reason, the Resolute seems to be in space.
No wonder she’s so freaked out. “Where…” Kix pauses to clear his throat, “Where are we going?”
“Coruscant.” Vacc claps his shoulder, “Get some rest, vod. We’ll be back at the barracks before we know it.”
And then his brother is gone, and Kix pins runi with a stare, “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” She sounds miserable, “The explosion must have mixed with the magic of the teleportation…I don’t know, Kix.” She winces and clamps her hands over her ears.
“Okay, okay. Runi, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you in pain?”
“How can you stand it?”
“Stand what?”
“The screaming.”
“What screaming, there’s no screaming-” She wraps her hands around his wrists as soon as he’s close enough, and then he hears it, high pitched and constant, as though someone, somewhere, is screaming in unending pain.
When she releases him the screaming stops, but she just tightens her hands over her ears.
“It…it’s going to be okay, runi. We’ll figure it out. I promise.”
Kix casts his gaze back to the window, just as a slightly mechanical voice echoes through the ship, “Preparing to jump into hyperspace in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…”And the galaxy outside the window fades into streaks of white and blue as Kix folds his hands around runi’s hands, trying to help her block out the screaming.
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I could be a better boyfriend —
Vox x Reader ,, 1.1k Words
summary — Reader yells at Valentino for being an asshole to Vox, spiraling them into an argument that eventually causes feelings to come out.
warnings — angst-ish, Vox and Val being the worst, toxic relationships, mild sexual tension
a/n — I had a great time writing this, to be honest. Hope I didn’t make Vox seem to innocent. Just to clarify he’s also the worst and a manipulator, he’s just the worst and a manipulated who’s desperate for validation and deserves better.
“Um, what the fuck was that?” Vox spat at you, after leading you into a different room.
The two of you were in Val’s porn studio. You, only to see Vox, and Vox because, well, who knows why he would go to that god awful place unprompted.
You didn’t want to start a fight with Val, but it was so easy when you saw how he treated people. Especially Vox. It got under your skin, how they affected each other.
It was so embarrassingly apparent to everyone that they were dysfunctional, and all Val did was stress Vox out with his useless bitching and overall toxic attitude
“I know, he’s such a snobby dick. I can’t believe you hang around with that guy—“ You turn to face him and realize it wasn’t Val he was talking about.
Your chest swelled when a deep gust of anger overtook you. Not necessarily at Vox, but at his inability to understand how the situation escalated.
It started with normal flirting between the two, normal, obnoxious, terribly disgusting attempts at flirting. The word ‘attempt’ is used because calling it ‘flirting’ implies there were any undertones of romance.
However, unsurprisingly considering the current company, there was none. Val spoke only from his dick, and it was agonizing to watch.
Especially after the two inevitably started arguing because that’s what happens when they’re in each others company for too long.
“Oh, come on, Vox. I’m the problem here?” You scoff and nod to the other room.
“Well, you did try to start a fight with a powerful overlord who’s, oh yeah, right, also my boyfriend,” Vox shouted, screen glitching out slightly.
Still, you didn’t see error in your ways. You considered yourself a level-headed person, so when you lost your shit it really meant something.
And, oh, it really did this time.
It was almost impossible to remember what Val had been bitching about on this ever-so joyous occasion. Something about Vox being in his space and crowding his area. ‘Fucking up his concentration,’ or something.
Of course, Vox fired back, and then Valentino, and so on. You almost rolled your eyes and left when Valentino had rose from his directors chair and started yelling at Vox like he had just committed the worst form of betrayal ever.
This time though, you could tell some of Valentinos words had gotten to Vox because, just for a second, his anger flickered into despair. It wasn’t noticeable, you were sure no one else picked up on it. After all, Vox would rather die than show vulnerability in front of a room full of pornstars.
But before Vox had a chance to fire back, you had stepped in. Your face scrunched up recalling the moment.
“Vox, I was looking out for you, jesus christ. God forbid I help a friend stand up to his shitty, awful boyfriend,” your hands fly up in the air mockingly as you recount the events in your head.
You didn’t remember exactly what you said, just that you went off. You do, however remember leaving the studio speechless after your outburst.
And Vox having to drag you away, with you still yelling at Val, in order to prevent a physical fight. That’s how you ended up here; a break room in a porn studio, being reprimanded for attempting to be a good friend. How tragic.
“What makes you think you need to look out for me? I am well aware of Val’s—” he searched for the word, “—quirks. It’s nothing I can’t handle on my own, like I have been doing for the past decade, you asshole.”
“You shouldn’t have to deal with it on your own,” you reasoned, voice still harsh and cold, “Maybe, if you were dating someone better—“
“Oh? Like who? Who would possibly ever—“
“Me, you fucking dumbass,” You yelled in a moment of thoughtless impulse.
That shut him up fast. Whatever argument he was cooking up slowly faded away into a blank stare.
The silence lasted too long.
“What— what are you saying?” Vox inquired, quieter than before. His eyes searched yours, desperately wanting you to explain yourself.
“You deserve someone who would treat you better, Vox. Someone, well, preferably me.” You finish, stepping towards him.
“I could treat you better, so much better. And hell, if not me, please just choose anyone but Valentino. I can’t—“ You try to grab his hand but he steps back.
“How?” He looks at you, trying to stay composed but silently pleading with you for an answer.
“How, what?”
“How would you treat me better?”
You simply look at him. His performative walls were slowly coming down. Or at least they will, depending on how you answer.
Still, you stay quiet for too long.
“Well, I wouldn’t yell at you for just being around me,” You try, but continue after realizing it wasn’t enough, “I’d listen to you, actually listen. Not just complain and expect unconditional comfort or support.”
That sparked his interest so you keep going.
“I’d make you coffee when you work late, black, just how you like it. Oh, and I wouldn’t forget our anniversary, thats…fucked. I’d let you lean on my shoulder when you were tired and— and I’d take care of you when you bite off more than you could chew, work wise. I wouldn’t yell at you. Not too much, anyways. I’d compliment you and praise you, tell you how proud of you I am.”
You had inched closer and closer to him during this speech, until your bodies were practically pressed together.
His usual facade was almost completely gone, he looked needy, no desperate, miserably craving something from you. He didn’t know if he wanted to be fucked stupid, or hugged until he fell asleep.
“Well, I…” He tried, but unfortunately Vox’s charismatic demeanor wasn’t helping him here, “…I wasn’t aware you felt that way.”
Your hands fell on his cheeks, or more accurately where they would be, and caressed them gently.
His eyes fluttered shut out how gentle you were. His hands subconsciously flew to your hips to brace himself when he leaned in to kiss you.
You kissed back, harder, as if you’ve been waiting forever. Which, it felt like you had. His hands drifted up to pull you in by your shirt collar, deepening the kiss, as yours fell to rest on his chest. Eventually, they went you his back and pulled him closer to you than before.
The kiss was tender, sweet, but hungry and depraved. When you finally broke, neither of you spoke for a long time, still breathing heavily, foreheads almost pushed together.
“Why didn’t we—“ Vox panted, “—why didn’t we do that before?”
You laugh weakly. “So, what’s it gonna be?” You ask, “Me or Valentino?”
a/n — Probably gonna be the last fic of the night. I am SO tired. So sadly no railing Vox fic, like I hoped.
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