#vodika vibes 650 event

[vodika-vibes]

Hello! Congratulations on making it to 650! Your fics are some of the best and you deserve all the love and attention.

Okay, could I ask for a romance with Jango Fett in a medieval or fantasy AU? I don’t know; the idea of Jango dressed in warrior king attire just waltzed through my mind and won’t leave me alone. Maybe something along the lines of the relationship started as purely political, but it turns out you’re good for one another and it’s just mutually falling for each other.

For The Dancing

Summary: Your marriage to Jango Fett was decided long before you were old enough to understand what was happening. And it was supposed to be a purely political marriage. Love was never meant to be part of the hand you were dealt. You’re not upset, however, when love appears.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

AU Prompt: Fantasy/Medieval AU

Word Count: 1550

Warnings: Arranged Marriage, reader is referred to as wife

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Alright, so here is the first fic of my new event, and naturally I had to start with Jango! I hope you like it~

“You seem troubled, wife.” You don’t pull your gaze away from the garnet colored wine that you’re sipping when you hear your husband’s voice from the doorway behind you.

“Not troubled,” You reassure after a moment, as you finally lower your glass back to the table, “Just pensive, I think.”

“May I join you?”

You finally turn your attention towards the man waiting in the doorway, an amused tilt to your lips, “You hardly need to ask for permission, Jango.” He’s dressed down, his ceremonial armor likely sitting neatly on it’s stand.

Oh, how far you and he have come since the day of your wedding.

There was a time when Jango would never dream of allowing you to see him without his armor.

You watch him as he steps onto the balcony and sinks into the chair across from you. Your expression doesn’t waver as he almost falls into the seat, as though there’s a massive weight on his shoulders.

“The talks went poorly then?” You ask, taking in the tension in his frame and the stress lines on his face.

He shifts in his seat and rests his cheek on his hand, “Don’t they always?” His dark gaze scans your face, “The Duchess asked after you.”

“Of course she did.” You reply dismissively, “Likely worrying about how I’ve been treated by you...godless heathens.” You add with an amused smile.

Jango’s lips quirk up into a small smile, “Those were her exact words.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “Honestly, you’d think she’d be better at this by now.”

He chuckles and leans back, “If it helps, she did seem to be genuinely concerned as to your well-being.”

“Hm. Yes, I don’t doubt that at all.”

“You have no intention of seeing her, I take it.”

You lift your wine glass again and absently twist the stem between your fingers, “There’s no point. Satine and I haven’t been close since we were children. And the last time we spoke, she had some things to say to me in regards to our marriage.”

“You’ve mentioned that before.” Jango allows, “Is that why you’re wallowing, wife?”

“Wallowing?” There’s a hint of laughter in your voice, “I suppose it must seem like I’m sulking a little bit.”

“Miles says that you haven’t left our wing since Satine and her entourage arrived.” Jango murmurs, “I am...concerned.”

You regard him fondly, “I have little love for large gatherings, Jango. You know that.”

“I would never dream of asking you to interact with people who cause you distress, wife. Were it in my power, I would cast Satine and her entourage out of our kingdom so that you might be less distressed.”

“It is in your power,” You remind him with an adoring smile, “But I would never dream of asking such a thing. You need these talks to go well.”

Jango taps a rhythm out on the table, “Is that what is troubling you?”

You pause, “The Kyr’tsad have become more bold with each passing day. Entire families have gone missing from the mining villages. Our people are afraid, husband.”

Jango grimaces and rubs the back of his neck, “I know. My hands are tied until Satine and her…” He makes a face and mutters something in Mando’a, “Until she agrees that we need to take decisive action.”

You straighten, “And what, pray tell, is my honorable cousin’s suggestion for dealing with the situation?”

“She would like us to talk.”

“...I...what?” For the first time, in a very long time, you’re properly befuddled.

He chuckles, “That has been the reaction of a lot of people. Including the Jedi who she brought with her to act as mediators.” Jango shakes his head, “The Jedi told her that her suggestion was a fool’s suggestion and that she needed to take the talks seriously, and she doubled down-” He sighs and rubs the back of his neck again.

You set your wine glass back on the table and smoothly stand to walk around the table. Gently, you settle your hands on his shoulders and start working out the tension in his shoulders and neck.

“I am not so eager to become a widow, Jango.” You murmur as he all but melts under your careful touch.

Jango tilts his head back so that his dark gaze is able to lock with your worried one. His hand comes up and presses against one of your hands, “I have no intention of leaving you a widow, wife. I will always come back to you, that I promise.”

“Gods willing,” You murmur in reply.

Slowly Jango turns the chair so that he’s facing you properly, and he stands so you’re standing chest to chest. He reaches out and lightly cups your cheeks with his warm hands. “Have you so little faith in my skills, wife?” He rumbles low in his chest.

Your eyes close as the scent and feel of Jango surrounds you, “It is not your skills that I have no faith in, Jango.” You press your hands over his, “Marching into battle with unwilling soldiers at your side-”

“That will never happen. You needn’t fret, wife.”

Your breath hitches as he presses his forehead against yours, and your eyes slide shut, “Satine is a fool, and she would see Mandalore lost before she gives up her ideals.”

“You know her better than I.” Jango says after a moment, “Would she truly sacrifice our homeland for the sake of her pacifism?”

“She believes that her way is the best way and that everyone will be better following her rules.” You murmur, “In a way, she’s just as fanatic as Pre Vizsla, just in the opposite direction.”

“Are you allowed to say that?” Jango asks, amused. “You are her cousin after all.”

You open your eyes and make a face, “I’ve always been a bit more even-keeled than Satine.”

“And I am grateful for it,” Jango admits, “And so our people.” He lightly strokes your cheek with his thumb and there’s something soft in his gaze. “While I would never dream of asking you to do something that you’re not willing to do, wife, I could use your silver tongue in the meetings tomorrow.”

You hum softly, “Then you shall have it.”

“Thank the stars,” He mutters, “Between you and the Jedi, I think the meeting will be less contentious tomorrow.”

You smile at him and lean into his warmth, “You are still so tense, husband.”

“It has been a very long day.”

“How can I help?”

Slowly, Jango drags his hands down from your cheeks, over your shoulders, and down your arms, until he’s cradling both of your hands with his own. “How long has it been since we last danced?” He asks as he lightly guides you from the balcony and back into the safety of your shared quarters.

“It’s been a couple of weeks, at least. You’ve been busy.”

“Well, that’s no excuse.” He twirls you into his arms, and starts dancing with you around the bedroom. There’s no music, but it’s perfect all the same.

“Careful, Jango.” You murmur as he spins you and then tugs you so you’re flush against his body, “You run the risk of making me fall in love with you.”

“Are you not already? Then I’m not trying hard enough.”

You laugh softly, and lightly brush your lips against his jaw. His hand, settled lightly on your hip, tightens. You’re no fool. You know that Jango loves you, you can tell in the way that he touches you, the way he looks at you, the way he protects you.

In truth, you love him too. You wouldn’t worry so much about him if you didn’t.

And he knows it.

The words are unnecessary at this point.

“I love dancing with you,” Jango murmurs, as he draws you closer to him and tilts your head back so his lips hover just over yours, “Have since the day of our wedding.”

“I feel the same way,” You murmur, “You’re the perfect dance partner.”

Jango closes the gap between your lips and his. He kisses you like you’re his most valued treasure, his lips warm and gentle against your own, though there’s a hint, just a hint, of roughness behind his lips.

Someday, you’re going to push him to see what he looks like when he’s not trying to be gentle with you. But not today.

He breaks the kiss and bumps his forehead against yours one more time, “When this crisis is over,” Jango murmurs, “I would like to speak with you about having a child.”

You blink at him, surprised, and then you smile, soft and slow, “A baby Jango.” You murmur.

“A baby you,” He corrects, “With your clever tongue and my strength.”

“He’ll be perfect.” You murmur with a warm smile.

“Yes. She will.”

You laugh, and slide your arms around him, “Alright, alright. As soon as this is dealt with, we can start trying for a baby.”

Jango grins, “Well, now I’m motivated.”

And then he sweeps you into a deep kiss, and you wrap your arms around him and allow yourself to be lost in him.

Love might not have been in the cards when you married him, but it’s in the cards now. And nothing could make you happier.

[vodika-vibes]

sorry for asking for more mer au when you've done so much but I'd like to request hurt/comfort with hunter and a reader who has a fear of deep water since nearly drowning as a child, and being afraid of mer because of it, and hunter helping her overcome her fears :)

Please Trust Me

Summary: Hunter finally found her, his soul mate. She’s perfect. Pretty and kind and good…and absolutely terrified of him and the ocean. Luckily, Hunter has never been one to give up.

Pairing: TBB Hunter x F!Reader

Word Count: 1566

Warnings: physical assault

Prompt: MerSoul AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Alright, sorry that this took so long, I wasn't sure how to start it out, but I think I have it where I like it now! Happy reading!

Hunter has been watching her for days, long enough that he knows his brothers would give him a hard time if they knew about it. They don’t, of course, because he had to swim upriver just to keep an eye on her, and his brothers wouldn’t follow him.

Several days ago Hunter decided to sing for his soulmate, and she appeared. Confused and unsure, she clung to the railing on the pier. But when he tried to talk to her, she flinched as if he brandished a blade at her, and ran off.

He’s not sure if it’s the water she’s afraid of, or him, but Hunter is determined to figure it out.

And encourage her to love him.

His time watching her has taught Hunter a lot about his mate. For one, she’s kind. He has seen her tending to younger siblings (or perhaps cousins? The children look like her, but they call her by name so she can’t be their mother—), and the children clearly adore her.

She’s also very steady, when a neighbor came over to yell at her for something the kids did, she withstood his shouting without flinching and then tore him a new one.

It was insanely attractive.

He’s also noticed that she never wandered close to the lake that he’s temporarily living in. In fact, she gives the lake a wide berth, as though afraid that the water will reach out a grab her.

Which is a problem.

How is he supposed to win her over if she refuses to come near the water?

Hunter has spent several days considering this very problem and has finally come up with a solution. He’s going to sing for her, nightly, and use a messenger crab to deliver little trinkets and pretty shells to her.

With luck, she’ll be curious enough to come and see what’s going on.

And if she doesn’t…well, he’ll just have to try something else.

It takes three nights of singing and three mornings of her waking up with new presents before she comes to investigate the lake. 

She comes to the water early in the morning, following Hunter’s messenger crab, and she stops at the edge of the dock. She’s trembling, even from a distance Hunter can see that, but she’s clutching the string of pearls he sent to her this morning, and he can see the small blue shell he had delivered to her yesterday hanging around her neck.

She clearly likes the presents, and Hunter couldn’t be more thrilled about that knowledge if he tried.

He pops out of the water, far enough away that she can retreat if she feels like she has to, and he feels a surge of delight when she doesn’t back away from him as he approaches.

Instead, nervously, she folds her legs under her and kneels on the dock, her hands wrapped tightly around one of the railings. She’s terrified, but she hasn’t left.

“You came!” Hunter blurts, unable to stop himself as he lifts himself out of the water so he’s able to see her face.

She stares at him, specifically at his waist where skin meets grey scales, and then lifts her gaze to meet his, “You’re a merman.” She sounds stunned.

“I am,” Hunter agrees, “I’ve been following you since that day on the beach.” He admits, sheepishly, “I think I scared you.”

She shakes her head, “I have hydrophobia,” She explains, “I left the beach because I had a panic attack. Honestly, I’m not very comfortable being here.”

Hunter’s gaze softens, “You don’t have to push yourself. I can wait for as long as you need.”

Her hands tighten around the string of pearls, “You keep leaving me presents—”

“I do. You’re my other half, my soul mate.” He explains, “You can feel it, can’t you?”

She presses her hand over her heart and lowers her gaze.

“You can.”

“Yeah, I can.” She admits after a moment of silence, “You deserve someone better than someone afraid of water.” 

“Wait, wait.” Hunter lightly touches her arm, “I don’t want better, I have you and you’re all I want. I’m a patient person.”

She makes a face, “But what if I’m never comfortable in the water? I nearly drowned when I was a child, I don’t even know how to swim! I—”

“I would never let you get hurt.” Hunter interrupts, drawing a look of astonishment from her, “When you’re with me in the water, I promise that you’ll be safe. You just have to trust me.”

She averts her gaze for a moment and then opens her mouth to say something, but then someone calls for her from the house, “Um…I have to go.” She hesitates a moment longer, “Maybe we can continue this conversation later?”

“I’ll be here.” Hunter promises, “For as long as you need.”

She favors him with a small smile and then gets to her feet and carefully hurries back to the house. Hunter watches her leave before he lowers himself back into the water, he might as well try to get some rest while waiting for her to come back.

Several hours later, after sunset, Hunter is pulled from his light dozing at the sound of raised voices. The voices are muffled, but one is very obviously the voice of his soulmate.

Swiftly, he swims up to the surface and pokes his head just out of the water to see what’s going on.

Yelling isn’t unusual at this home, his soulmate usually isn’t involved though. 

Hunter immediately finds her, standing on the dock, her back to the water, and her family’s neighbor in her face, yelling at her. 

It’s almost as if time moves in slow motion. The neighbor lifts his hand and hits her with something, a stick of some kind, and Hunter’s heart sinks as she falls backward into the water.

His soulmate can’t swim, but she definitely can’t swim when she’s unconscious. 

He swims faster than he’s ever swam before, diving to the bottom of the lake and wrapping his arms around her, before dragging her back to the surface.

She coughs out some water, and her head lolls to his shoulder, but she’s breathing, and that’s good enough for him. Hunter brushes some of her hair out of her face, carefully tilting her head so he can see where he hit her.

There’s a clear gash on her temple, and it’s bleeding badly. Quickly, Hunter rips the sleeve off of her shirt and presses the cloth against the open wound, to try and stem the bleeding. 

He doesn’t dare bring her to shore, just in case the neighbor is waiting for her.

Eventually, something like 30 minutes later, she stirs awake and blinks, dazed, at Hunter.

“There you are,” He breathes out, “You scared me, pretty girl.”

She blinks at him slowly, and Hunter watches as slow awareness seeps into her dazed eyes. He recognizes the moment she realizes that she’s in water, as she tenses and her breath quickens.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re fine. I have you.” Hunter tightens his arms around her, “I have you, you’re safe with me. I promise. You need to calm down.”

It takes a few moments, but as she realizes that she’s not sinking and that she is, in fact, safe in his arms, the tension drains from her body and her breathing slows to a more even pace, “There we go.”

“What happened?” She asks him, her voice slightly hoarse.

“You don’t remember?”

She frowns at him, shifting in his arms so she’s able to wrap her arms around him, “I remember…I fed the kids and put them to bed.” She murmurs, “And then…” She pauses, “We had a visitor, I think? The neighbor. He was complaining about the kids, I told him he needed to stop yelling, and then—” her frown deepens, “And then…I don’t remember.”

“You were fighting on the dock, and he hit you with something, a stick of some kind.” Hunter explains, “You fell into the water.”

She stares at him, “You saved me?”

“Of course, I told you I would.”

She stares at him for a moment, and then she smiles at him and tightens her arms around him, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for doing the right thing,” He replies, “I’m just glad that I was here to help. You really should learn how to swim though, angelfish.”

She sighs softly and drops her head on his shoulder, “Yeah, I guess.”

“I can teach you if you like.”

She seems to curl into him, as best as she can, “I’d like that.” She pauses for a moment, “Oh, I have to get back to the house!”

“I have you, sweetheart. Hold on tight,”

As she hurries back to the house, slightly unsteady due to her head injury, Hunter watches her. He’s going to stick around for a bit longer, just in case the neighbor comes back, but he has high hopes for his connection with his soulmate.

He tilts his head and listens as she approaches the house, and he smiles when he hears her mother release a cry of horror, everything is going to be alright now. Her parents will take care of everything. 

And Hunter will be here to deal with the man who tried to kill his soulmate, should he get to close to the lake.

[vodika-vibes]

HI vodika! Can I ask an imperial (or cx) Tech or Wrecker + soulmate au 👉👈

Surface Pressure

Summary: You know who your soulmate is. It’s obvious, as you both have the same symbol on your left hand. The problem is Tech is a clone and pretends you don’t exist.

Pairing: TBB TEch (Imperial) x F!Reader

Word Count: 2220

Warnings: None

Prompt: Soulmate AU - soulmates have identical marks somewhere on their body

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Hihi! Thank you for your request! I hope you like it!

You smother your yawn with great difficulty as you pick up your datapad and squint at the information on the screen, you lay your datapad down and proceed to transfer the information from the datapad to the computer.

It’s amazing just how much paperwork the Empire generates.

It has to be copied into the proper system, labeled correctly, encrypted and then sent to Coruscant.

If it wasn’t such a well-paying job, you’d have quit ages ago. But no, you have to support your parents. And older siblings.

Ungrateful leeches.

This time, you don’t bother to smother your yawn as you press the sleeve of your uniform against your mouth to cover your yawn. Your job is well-paying, but it’s also very dull. You probably go through enough caf to keep the companies in business.

You lock your computer and cross your office to your caf machine, intent on making another cup to help you stay awake. While your caf is brewing, you lean against the desk and absently trace your soul mark.

It’s pretty, your soul mark.

It’s pale orange and has swooping shapes that almost make it look like a flower. As a child, you spent hours tracing the design with markers or clumsy fingers. And you would daydream about your soulmate.

As you grew older, those daydreams changed into full-blown fantasies. You dreamed up whole adventures with you and your soulmate, imagined the planets you would visit, and the discoveries you’d make together.

Reality, as it happens, is much more disappointing.

Oh, you know who your soulmate is. You see him every day.

But he likes to pretend that you don’t exist.

Tech, or CT-9902 as you are expected to call him, is a clone. He’s so smart, and so important to the Empire, that he single-handedly runs the Technical Department on the base.

He hides his soul mark.

But you managed to catch a glimpse of it when you started working here, so you know your marks are identical. And you know that he knows it too.

His gaze lingers on you, sometimes. Well, on your hand at least.

You can’t help but wonder if he’s disappointed. It’s not like you have a very technical job, and he’s very smart. Not to mention, there are plenty of prettier people—

Your caf machine beeps, pulling you from your thoughts, and you focus your attention on the machine that’s pouring caf into your mug. 

A small sigh falls from your lips and you tiredly rub your eyes. You must be more exhausted than you thought if your thoughts are spiraling so badly. You pull your mug out of the machine and add some sugar and some creamer, taking a sip before you return to your desk.

You sink into your comfortable chair, taking a moment to set your mug on a coaster before you unlock your computer and start typing again.

You manage to type three lines when the entire room goes dark, including the computer.

You pull your flashlight out of your desk and turn it on, using it to help you get to your office door. Like everything else in the base, the door is electric, luckily there’s a safety on the door, allowing it to be pulled open with a handle in the event of a fire or power outage.

So you pull open the door and peek out into the hallway, and you’re not the only one. Down the hall, all of the administrative employees are sticking their heads into the hallway, trying to get answers.

“Everything is fine,” The base Commander calls as he jogs down the hall, followed but several soldiers, “Lightning struck the transformer, but the backup generators will be up and running in a few minutes. There is no need to be alarmed.”

Just as he jogs passed your office the lights flicker and come back on, along with the relieving sound of the climate control kicking back on.

“Everyone, please go back to work.” The base Commander calls, “If you have any technical issues, please put a ticket in for Tech Support, do not try and repair it yourself.”

You smother your slightly amused laugh and vanish back into your office as you hear your neighbor try to argue with the base commander. That comment was absolutely pointed at your neighbor, who once tried to jerry-rig a supercomputer by stealing all of the administrative computers…and managed to burn down three offices.

He only still has his job because he’s the nephew of the base Commander.

You hit the power button on your computer as you drop into your seat, but nothing happens. You frown and hold the power button for a couple of seconds, but still, nothing happens.

“Great.” You grab a datapad, open the Tech Support chat window, open a ticket, and send your request. Then you drop your datapad back on your desk and pick up your caf to take a sip.

You expect to wait a while, a least a couple of hours, so you’re surprised when there’s a knock on your door almost half an hour later. You’re even more surprised when the door slides open and Tech walks into your office.

You have to bite your tongue to keep from saying his name, instead you just stand and greet him with a small smile. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“Your ticket said that your computer stopped working after the power outage?” Tech asks, his gaze lingering on the orange mark on your hand.

“That’s right.” You move away from your desk to allow him access.

Tech brushes against you to get to your desk, and you both freeze. His gaze snaps to your face, and you have to tightly fold your arms over your stomach to keep from doing something foolish.

Like touching him.

He clears his throat, “Well. Most likely the blown transformer is the cause.” Tech says as he ducks under your desk, “You should not need a new computer, though.”

“You think so?”

He pulls himself out from under your desk and looks up at you, “All of the computers are plugged into surge protectors for this very reason.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

He ducks back under the desk. You hear a curse, and Tech pulls back and rips his gloves off, tossing them over your keyboard, before he vanishes back under the desk.

There’s the sound of cords moving, and then he pulls back out from under your desk, your surge protector in his hands. “It is a good thing that you were using this.” He says as he stands and adjusts the long device so you’re able to see the top, there are scorch marks near some of the outlets.

You open your mouth to say something, but your office door slides open, interrupting you. 

“Commander?” You ask, “Everything alright?”

“I heard that you had some tech issues,” He says, his gaze darting between you and Tech, and then to the scorched surge protector, “Did a fire start?”

“No. We need to add more protections though.” Tech notes, as he quickly tugs his gloves back over his hands. He’s not paying attention to the Commander…but you are.

You see the way that his gaze lands on Tech’s soul mark, the soul mark that’s identical to your own. And you see the way his eyes light up.

You’re heart sinks into your stomach. 

You’re not stupid. You know that Imperial Officers are monsters on a good day, and you know that they’re not above using soul mates to force someone into obedience.

You just had a target placed on your back.

You can’t help but wonder if Tech would even care if you vanished.

“I will go and get you a new surge protector,” Tech says to you, “that should fix the computer issue.”

“Thank you,” You reply, your voice dry. You want to beg him to not leave you with the Commander, but the words stick in your throat.

And then it’s too late.

Tech is gone, the door is shut, and the Commander turns his gaze on you.

There’s silence for a moment, then the Commander takes a step towards you and picks up a small tooka figurine sitting on your desk, “I would prefer it if you didn’t make this difficult.” He says quietly.

“Yes.” You whisper, “I understand.”

“Follow me.”

Silently you follow him through the base. And then down, under the base. To a secret prison, located deep beneath the base. You’re handed off to a group of guards, clad in a stark white prison uniform, and then escorted to a small cell. 

The other cells are filled with men and women, of all races. And the guard, gleefully, informs you that everyone in the secret prison is the soul mate of a clone.

As you step into your cell, the door slams shut with a finality that makes you want to cry.

Game over.

The Empire wins.

Tech tries to be a good soldier.

He obeys his orders, he takes the verbal abuse that the natborns lay on his. He pretends that it doesn’t bother him that he’s been separated from his brothers.

He’s a good soldier.

But, right now, he doesn’t want to be a good soldier.

It has been three months, 2 weeks, and 4 days since his soul mate vanished.

Vanished, of course, is a colloquialism for the fact that she has been thrown in a cell somewhere for the crime of having a clone soul mate.

Tech can’t remember the last time he was so angry. Maybe when he was a cadet.

The base Commander is using her to force Tech into compliance. And every time he doesn’t do something that the Commander wants him to do, Tech gets another picture of his badly beaten soul mate.

It’s enough to make him want to comply.

It’s also enough to push him into homicide.

Tech glances around the room, just to make sure that no one is watching him, and then focuses his attention back on the computer in front of him. Echo might be the slicing master, but Tech isn’t so bad himself.

He scans the information on the computer, searching for the information he needs.

Then he finds it.

A picture of his soul mate, her prisoner ID number, the cell number she’s been confined in…and the location of the prison.

The moment he realizes that she’s been under his feet this whole time, Tech feels a surge of rage so intense that he has to shut down the computer and walk away for a moment.

It won’t do for him to act out of anger.

All that will do is put her in harm's way.

He stamps out his rage with difficulty and starts back to his office, a plan forming as he walks. 

Instead of going to his office, he turns and heads towards the armory. The natborns in charge think that he’s a regular clone.

They’re wrong.

He’s still a Commando.

Once in the armory Tech dons his armor and grabs his weapons as well as some explosives. And then he heads to the hidden door that leads to the hidden prison. 

One quiet explosion later, Tech uses the emergency stairs to get to the bottommost level, where he stops near the security room. A quick scan of the room tells him that he can open all of the cell doors from in here, as well as send an alert to the clone soul mates that their other halves have been freed.

All he has to do is remove the guards.

Easy.

7 blaster shots later, Tech steps into the security room and opens all of the cell doors. Then he sends a message to his reg brothers.

His good deed done for the day, Tech leaves the security room and weaves through the crowd of people until he reaches her cell.

She’s cautiously peeking out the open door as if expecting it to be a trap. One of her eyes is swollen, and her lip is split. Tech says her name and her eyes snap to his face.

“...Tech?” Her voice is soft, hesitant.

“I am sorry that it took me so long to find you,” Tech apologizes. “Will you come with me?”

“You came? For me?” She sounds surprised.

“Did you think I would not?”

“I didn’t think you cared.” She admits.

Tech steps closer to her and lightly brushes a thumb across her cheek, “I was trying to protect you, I am sorry if you thought that I did not care.”

She shakes her head and flings her arms around his neck. Hesitantly, afraid to hurt her any more than she’s already been hurt, Tech wraps his arms around her. “Will you come with me?” He repeats.

She nods mutely and then pulls back, “The Empire will kill us.”

“They have to catch us first.” Tech lightly kisses her forehead, “Come on, it is time to go.”

She nods one more time and takes his hand, “What about them?”

“Oh, I made sure to let their soulmates know where they are, and that they are free. You do not have to worry about them.”

As if proving his point, there’s an explosion from above them.

“Time for us to go. Come on, mesh’la.”

[vodika-vibes]

For the 650 followers AU requests, how about...

Fives x Fem Reader, Mer AU for MerMay. 🧜🏽‍♂️

Details: No use of y/n please. Reader is reluctantly part of a crew of sailors/pirates/privateers/ assigned by the island of Naboo's chancellor, Palpatine, to catch a merperson because of a legend that says something from a mer (tears, flesh, dealer's choice) grants immortality. Fives is the captured merman, and forms a bond with the reader. Bonus, merfolk CAN transform to have legs, but perhaps under certain conditions. Fives, being the cheeky, mischievous guy he is, "forgets" that humans have an aversion to public nudity. 😏 Insert awkward flustered reader at seeing a naked man for the first time 🤭

Can have some mild or hinted spice, but nothing explicit please.

The Privateer

Summary: After being assigned to the Dominion, the flagship of Naboo’s Privateer fleet, you’re miserable. The last thing you’ve ever wanted was to spend your life hunting Mermaids, even if their blood is said to grant immortality. The day your captain catches a merman is the worst day of your life. Though, you’re pretty sure it’s only going to get worse.

Pairing: Pre ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader

Word Count: 2401

Warnings: None

Prompt: Mermaid AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, I've had the idea for this for a while, it just took me a bit to get it down in a way that makes me happy. I hope you like it! Also, I really need to stop writing the summary before I write the story, lol

“So, I gotta ask,” You roll your eyes as you finish tying your bandana over your hair, and then turn to look at one of your bunkmates, “How’d you end up on The Oracle?”

“Palpatine’s order,” You reply simply as you kneel to pull your boots out from under the bunks, “What about you?”

“Same. Though I was pulled from Theeds Prison.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” She pins her hair back, and wraps a bandana around her hair as well, “I was a pickpocket, believe it or not.”

You laugh, “Have you ever been on a ship before?”

“Not in my life.” She flashes a wry grin, “You?”

“I used to serve on The Hush. It’s a fishing trawler.”

“You were a fisherwoman?”

“Yeah. Served on the ship since I was a kid.” You finish pulling your boots on and stand.

“Why’d you get pulled to the Oracle?”

“No one knows these waters better’n me.” You stretch your arms over your head and then grab your waistcoat from your bunk and pull it over the dark shirt you’re wearing, “I was tagged to be the navigator.”

“Alright, lemme ask you a question then, Navi—”

“—Don’t call me that—”

“—do you think there’s any truth to what we were ordered out here to do?” She asks, ignoring your comment.

“You’re asking if I believe in merpeople?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

You fold your arms over your chest, “I think,” You say slowly, “That we know more about the stars than we do about the sea.”

“So you’re saying it’s possible?”

“I’m saying I haven’t seen any proof that they exist.” You sigh, “Honestly, “I think this is a fool's errand. The cap thinks so too. You see the look on his face when he told us what we were here to do.”

“Yeah. He looked annoyed.” Your bunkmate finishes dressing and then follows you out of the berth that you share. The pair of you are two of maybe ten women who are serving on the Oracle, the rest of the crew are all men. “Was the Oracle a fishing vessel too?”

“No. Military.” You lightly rap your knuckles on something pinned to the wall, “Well, military lite.”

“Military lite?” She asks with a smothered laugh.

“Yeah, well,” You move to the side to not get trampled by a much larger sailor, “The Oracle was one of a fleet of ships that would respond to emergencies on the water. You know like ship fires, and the like.”

“Are ship fires common?” She asks as she stops dead in her tracks.

“Keep moving, you’re holding up traffic,” You chide, and then, as she continues chasing after you, “No. Not really. But they do happen. It’s why ships like the Oracle exist.”

“So, what? The Government just took the ship and forced it to be a privateer vessel? Is that allowed?”

You shrug as you hurry up a thin flight of stairs, “Doesn’t matter so much, does it? Cause it’s what happened.” At the top of the stairs you pause, and motion to a hallway, “Galley is there. You’ll do fine.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Cook will teach you. Don’t be afraid.” You watch as the other woman hurries into the galley before you jog through the halls until you reach the bridge. You slide into the navigator’s seat, taking the pencil from the previous guy, and you scan the map.

“Morning, Navi.”

“Why are you all calling me that?” You say with a sigh.

The Captain winks at you, and then turns his gaze out the front window, “You get the new girl settled?”

“Yeah, dropped her off with Cookie.” You reply.

“Good lass, it’s nice of you to take her under your wing.”

You lean back in your seat, and point your pencil at him, “You know she’s a pickpocket, right? From Theeds.”

“Oh, I know.” The captain glances at you, and makes a face, “I’m glad I was able to keep most of my crew, and the majority of the people pulled to The Oracle are from other ships, but some of the people Palpatine gave me are all criminals.”

“What’s he thinking?”

“I don’t think he is.” The Captain scoffs, “Alright, according to the night Captain, they managed to finish searching grid blocks—” He pauses and glances at a sheet next to the helm, “Ah, here it is. Grid blocks 70 to 79.”

“They only searched nine blocks?” You ask as you turn your attention to the map and find the ship’s current location.

“Well, night searches aren’t easy. There is no sunlight, very little moonlight. Probably wanted to be thorough.” The Captain replies. 

“Alright, I have to ask. What do you think about this mission we were assigned?”

He’s quiet a moment, “Well. Orders are orders, right? But—” He trails off, “I don’t know, Navi. I grew up on the ocean, the things we don’t know could fill the library of Theeds. Anything’s possible.”

You sigh, “I dunno. It just…If merpeople are real, Cap, it feels like it would be bad luck to catch them.”

“Well, if we’re lucky, we won’t find any and can all return to our regular jobs.” The Captain sighs, “What’s our heading, Navi?”

“Due North, Cap.”

“Alright, adjust course—”

You flicker your gaze down to your map as the Captain rattles off a list of numbers and you promptly mark the ship's location and repeat the numbers to him. 

It’s roughly 6 hours later when one of the men casting the nets shouts to stop the Oracle. The Captain slows the ship to a stop and leans his head out the window, “What’s wrong?” He shouts down to his men.

“Net’s stuck, Cap!” The man shouts back, “It…gods above—” The fishing net lifts out of the water, and there, thrashing wildly in the net, is a merman.

The Captain stares at the dark-skinned merman and releases an oath so ugly and bitter that you start. “Mark our location, Navi.”

“Yes, Captain.” You reply, quickly marking the location on the map, and then scrambling to your feet to follow him out of the bridge and to the deck.

The merman is still thrashing wildly, loud and angry curses falling from his lips. You watch as the Captain scans the men and women on the deck, his lips turning down.

“Cap—”

“I know, I’m thinking.” He replies, “Most of the men on deck are mine, or come from other ships.” You scan the people on the deck and know he’s right. Most people on the deck look terrified and are backing away from the net.

The people that aren’t are the ones who Palpatine pulled from prisons.

You inhale sharply as one of the former prisoners picks up a spear and jabs the merman in the fin.

That action causes the Captain to explode. Loud and angry curses fall from his lips as he starts to yell at the former prisoners. You’ve never seen him so angry in your life.

“Navi!” He shouts.

“Captain?”

“Back to the bridge, make sure we don’t drift.” He orders. He flickers two fingers towards you, a hand symbol you know well. 

He’s ordering you to lock the doors and pull the curtains as soon as you’re back on the bridge. You don’t take your gaze off of him as you nod, “Yes, Captain.”

You turn and hurry back up to the bridge slamming the door behind you and locking it with a quiet click. You see the Captain watching the bridge as you close the curtains.

There’s silence for a whole minute, and then the shouting starts. Then the alarm bells start ringing, alerting the ship of an attempted mutiny. 

Less than fifteen minutes later, there’s a bang on the door, “Navi,” the Captain calls, “We’re all clear, open up.” You stand from your seat and open the door, allowing the Captain back towards the helm.

He’s covered in blood.

“Everything alright, Cap?”

“Yeah. We’re calling it an attempted Mutiny.” He explains, “That or sea madness.” 

“You think that’ll work.”

He laughs, “No one wants to face the wrath of the sea, Navi. How are your medical skills?”

“Average.”

“Go tend to the Merman. We’ll be staying put until he’s healed enough to leave.”

“And…the Chancellor?”

The Captain looks you in the eye, “Merpeople aren’t real.”

You flash a wry grin, “Understood.”

You leave the bridge and head back to the deck. Surviving members of the crew are using buckets of salt water to wash the blood off the desk before it dries.

The merman is no longer thrashing around, instead, he looks deeply, deeply amused. 

“Alright there, Navi?” The First Mate asks as he uses a broom to push some bloody water back into the ocean.

“Yeah. Captain put me in charge of him, can you lower him to the deck?”

The First Mate laughs, “Probably a good idea. Alright, step back.” You take several large steps back as the First Mate and several of the men move to the winch to lower the net to the deck.

The net falls open and you carefully step over to the merman, “Hello. You can call me Navi, I’m going to take a look at your fin. Is that alright?”

He gazes at you evenly, and then leans his weight back on his hands, “Yeah, alright Navi.” He finally says.

You crouch next to his tail, “And what should I call you?”

“I’m Fives.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Fives.”

“Fraid to say that I don’t agree.”

“No, I would imagine you wouldn’t.” You carefully examine his fin, “It looks like the spear sliced your fin pretty good. I can wrap it, but I’m not sure that’ll help.”

Fives watches you for a moment, and then he smirks “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hm? What do you me—” You yelp in surprise as his scales start to retreat, slowly getting replaced with flesh. And his tail separates into legs. Your jaw drops in shock, and then you yelp again as rough hands shove your bandana over your eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” The First Mate demands, “You can’t go around exposing yourself to young ladies. Use this to cover yourself.” You hear the sound of cloth hitting something, and low laughter, though you’re too busy trying to pry the First Mate’s hands off your head to notice.

“I forgot.” Fives says, laughter in his voice. As you pull your bandana off your eyes, you see a wide grin on his face. “Anyway, Navi, this will this help?”

“Um. Yeah, a bit.” You glance at the injury, “It’s a pretty deep cut, but you shouldn’t need stitches.”

“Wait, wait. I have a question,” The First Mate says, “If Merpeople can make themselves look human, doesn’t that mean that Palpatine’s theory about Merperson blood is a crock of shit?”

Fives bursts into laughter, “Oh, yeah. It’s absolute bullshit.” He grins at the First Mate, “Don’t tell me you believed that?”

“Course not,” You interject, “But orders are orders,” You stand and offer him your hand, “Come on, let’s get you someplace where I can get that cleaned and wrapped.”

Fives takes your hand and allows you to help him to his feet, and then leans his weight on your shoulder, “You know. Maybe I’ll stick around for a bit. At least until I’m healed.” He muses.

“That right?”

“Sure. Not often that I get a pretty lady to dote on me.” He says with a grin.

You roll your eyes, “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.”

“Nope,”

You lead him through the ship until you reach the small infirmary, and motion for him to hop up on the table, “I’m not even sure what the Captain’s going to do next.” You admit.

“Oh?”

“Palpatine isn’t going to give up on this, and yeah, he’s crazier than a bag of squirrels, but he still has a lot of power.”

“What would you do?”

“I’m not the Captain.”

“That wasn’t my question.” Fives points out.

You lean against a counter, “I wouldn’t go back to Naboo. But that’s our home, and this is a Nubian vessel.” 

“Well, your Captain did just order the outright slaughter of half the crew.”

“It wasn’t half, there were only 15 people on the ship who were loyal to Palpatine,” You correct him, “And it wasn’t a slaughter. You heard the bell, there was a mutiny.”

Fives snorts out a laugh, “Yeah, alright. Six one way, half a dozen the other.”

You make a face at him and then continue digging around for the medical kit. “Either way, the Captain has to decide what to do. Not me.”

“How’d he feel about me sticking around?”

“That you’d have to ask him.” You counter, “Why’d you wanna stay anyway?”

“I have a thing for pretty girls.” Fives replies with a bright grin.

Your face heats and you busy yourself with searching for the first aid kit, “I’ll talk to him, but he did just lose fifteen members of his crew.” You straighten and flash a small smile at him, “Don’t suppose you have any friends who need a job?”

Fives leans in so his face is close to yours, “As it happens, I do.”

You grin at him, “That right?”

“It is right.”

“What do you want in return?”

“A place on the ship. And your bandana.”

“My bandana?” You ask, amused.

“Have to wear my lady's colors, don’t I?” You laugh and avert your gaze, slightly flustered. But you do pull the bandana off your head and offer it to him. 

Fives immediately ties the pale blue bandana around his head and you smile at him. 

“Alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll go talk to the Captain. After I patch up your leg.”

“It’s a deal then.” Fives replies, stretching out to let you have access to his leg.

“So it is.”

In the end, Fives invites seven of his brothers to join the crew of The Oracle: Rex, Echo, Jesse, Kix, Tup, Dogma, and Hardcase. And, after much discussion with the crew, The Oracle doesn’t return to Naboo, no longer able to handle how Palpatine treats the Nubian people.

So far as the Nubian people are concerned, The Oracle is lost at sea. However, the sailors of Naboo know the truth. The Oracle is still out there, on patrol, just waiting for Palpatine’s control to slip long enough to swoop in and steal another ship.

[vodika-vibes]

hiiii! i would like to send in a request for your follower event please!!! i was thinking of a monster/ghost au where the reader (i’ll leave gender up to you i’m not picky lol) was a medic for the 501st and was dating echo but died. so the reader is now a ghost haunting echo after he joins the bad batch!! i’m not sure if i want echo (or even the bad batch + omega) to be able to see the reader so i’ll leave that up to you as well if that’s okay? it’ll be like a surprise!! but i do want this to have a happy ending if possible please!!

Oh Traveler Come

Summary: You’ve always been a practical person. Realistic. So when you’re killed in an attack on the Resolute you’re legitimately surprised to find yourself sticking around after death. It’s not the way your world is supposed to work. But, when you find yourself bound to Echo, Echo who you were dating before he died, you start to think that maybe there’s a reason for it.

Pairing: TBB Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1542

Warnings: Some angst

Prompt: Ghost/Monster AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I wasn't sure, at first, how I was going to write this one, but I think I kind of like the idea that I came up with. Thanks for your request!

“What a hell hole,” You scrunch up your nose as you trail after Echo into the barracks of his new squad, “Honestly Echo,” You say to your boyfriend, former boyfriend, who you know can’t hear you, “You should bully them into cleaning more. This is a crime against me.”

Echo doesn’t respond. Of course he doesn’t. He can’t see you, though sometimes it feels like he can hear you.

Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on your part.

You’re a ghost. You died in an attack on the Resolute. Well, to be more precise, you were killed by Ventress. At least, you’re pretty sure that’s what happened. 

To be fair to yourself, you don’t actually remember dying.

But you’re a ghost, so you must have died. It’s the only logical conclusion. 

For a time, you were attached to Fives, and then he died (and oh, isn’t that just infuriating? You know everything that Fives learned, but you can’t tell anyone-) and then you found yourself hovering over Echo.

You suppose it makes an odd sort of sense. You’ve always been closer to the domino twins than anyone else on the ship…well, outside of Kix. Although, you’re not disappointed that you’re not stuck haunting Kix.

Absently, you roll in the air so that you’re lounging on your back, you tuck your arms under your head and cross your legs. Being a ghost is weird. You can only travel so far away from Echo before you’re snapped back to his side, floating through walls still feels…weird. And you constantly feel like you’re spying on the boys.

Also, you don’t need to sleep anymore. 

You shift when you hear a thunk, and you make a face when you see Hunter stripping his armor off. Time to make yourself scarce, just because they don’t know that they’re being haunted doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t allow them some privacy.

Sure, if you’ve seen one naked clone, you’ve seen them all. But still.

The only person you have any interest in seeing naked is Echo…and even then, not when he’s not aware that you’re watching.

You allow yourself to drift through the wall, and then sit up and cross your legs, lazily allowing your gaze to drift over the men walking through the hall.

What a lonely existence you’ve been cursed with.

Your hands find no purchase. Your gestures catch no eyes. And your pleas, whether they be whispered or screamed, reach not a single ear.

What horrific crime must you have committed to be cursed with this? It must have been truly awful-

“Hello?”

There’s no other explanation-

“Helloooo?”

This has to be a punishment-

“How are you floating?”

Wait, what?

Your gaze snaps to right in front of you. There’s a small child, a little blonde girl, standing in front of you, looking up at you through wide brown eyes. “...you can see me?”

“Yes, of course I can.”

“Gods,” You drop from the air until your kneeling in front of her, “How long has it been-” 

She reaches out and presses her hands against your cheeks, and you’re surprised that she can touch you, “You’re cold.” The little girl says with a small frown, “Like touching ice.”

“I’m a ghost, little one.” You say through a choked laugh, “I have been for what feels like ages.”

“My name is Omega.” She says with a bright smile, “What’s your name?”

You blink the tears out of your eyes, as you introduce yourself. 

“Would you like to come to my room with me? You must be so lonely.”

“I wish I could, but I’m bound to Echo.” You jab your thumb towards the door.

Omega looks from you, to the door, and then back to you. “He can’t see you?”

“Nope.”

“Or hear you?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s so sad!” Omega looks like she’s about to cry for a moment, and you flounder, unsure how to fix this, if this can be fixed. And then a look of determination crosses her face, “I’m going to help.”

“Are you?” You ask, bemused.

Omega steps around you and knocks on the door, loudly.

“They’re not going to believe you, kid.” You note as you take to the air again, folding your legs once more.

“I’ll make them.” Omega replies just before the door opens. Crosshair looks out the door, looking right through you, and then he glances down at Omega.

“...what?”

Omega lifts her chin, “I’m looking for Echo.”

Crosshair raises both of his brows, and then he turns to the side, “Echo, there’s a kid-hey!” He stares at Omega as she pushes into the room, and you, laughing quietly, trail after her.

“Um…which one is Echo?” Omega asks you, seemingly uncaring for the bemused, and bewildered, looks that were being aimed at her. 

“The one with the prosthetics.” You say, amused, “They’re going to think you’re crazy, Omega.”

She frowns at you, and then turns to look at Echo, “But I’m not.”

“I know that, you know that. But ghosts aren’t supposed to be real, kid.”

“Then tell me something that will make them believe me.” Omega counters.

“Uh…kid? Who are you talking to?” Hunter asks slowly. 

Omega says your name and you watch as Echo jerks, and something pained crosses his face. “She’s dead, you can’t be talking to her.” He says bluntly, and you’d almost believe that he didn’t care based on his tone, but there’s something so heartbroken on his face that your heart lurches painfully.

Omega stares at him for a moment, and then she points at you, “She’s right there. She says that she’s been following you for a while.”

Echo glances at you, or, well, at the spot where Omega says that you are, and the look of pain on his face only becomes more pronounced, “That’s…cruel, kid.”

“No, I-” Omega turns her gaze to you, “Help?”

You hesitate, and then you float over to Echo and lightly reach out, as if to touch him, though you stop before you actually manage it. “Tell him…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break my promise.”

Omega dutifully gives him your message, and Echo jerks in surprise. 

“She’s…actually here?”

“Right in front of you. She’s crying.”

You laugh through your tears, “Don’t tell him that-”

“Sorry.” Omega says sheepishly, “She didn’t want me to tell you that.”

“Why can’t I see her? Or feel her?”

“I don’t think anyone can.” Omega says thoughtfully, “She said that I’m the first person to see her since she died.”

For a moment, Echo looks wrecked. But then, he knows better than anyone how much you hate being alone.

You pull away from Echo, and return to Omega’s side, kneeling so that you’re closer to eye level with her, “Omega. I need you to pass on a message, exactly as I say it. Can you do that?”

She turns to look at you, “I can do that.”

“Good. Good girl.” You breathe out, and then you start speaking.

You tell Echo, though Omega, about Fives. About what he learned, about what got him killed. Omega is shaking by the time you finish talking, horror and fear on her face. 

“We need proof,” Echo says quietly, “Cyare, please tell me you have proof.”

Omega, her hands shaking, gives him your answer, “She says that the proof is in your heads.”

“Then we need to do something about this.” Hunter says, “Omega, can you be the go between for us and the ghost doctor?”

“Ghost doctor?” You repeat under your breath.

“You…believe me?” Omega asks, her eyes wide.

“It does explain why Echo always smells a little bit like ozone.” Hunter says with a shrug, “Come on, let’s get to the bottom of this.”

Half an hour later, Echo is hacking into a computer terminal when he stumbles on a file with your name on it. The file is a very detailed description of the attack on the Resolute, the attack that you thought killed you. 

Turns out, Ventress didn’t kill you. 

She used an ancient force ability to separate your soul from your body. According to the notes, you were meant to be bound to Ventress, as a weapon to be used against the Republic, only instead of being bound to Ventress, you ended up bound to Fives, and then Echo.

Your body is located on a small asteroid in wild space, kept in a deep coma to keep your soul wandering. Tech quickly makes note of the location, and then they go back to work at dealing with the chips. 

A single line of code added to the chips software by Tech, as well as a forced update to thc chips, meant that Order 66 could never be activated by anyone. And if someone managed it, the new order was to protect all jedi, rather than kill them. 

It would give the Jedi time enough to survive, if nothing else.

Then the Batch flees Kamino, with Omega. Intent on going to claim their doctor’s body, and then head to the Jedi temple in the hopes that they’ll be able to put you back in your body.

You and Echo will get your happy ending, you just have to fight for it.

And, really, isn’t that the case with all happy endings?

[vodika-vibes]

Okay for the 650 follower event. I'm thinking something spicy~

Maybe Alpha or Boba in a Western AU ( Bonus points, though not required, if you can work in careful princess if you use Boba 🙈)

Fancy

Summary: Jabba, an absolute slug of a man, has been ruling the small town that you call home for your entire life. When you hear about the new bounty hunter in his employ, you fear the worst. Though, as it happens, Boba Fett isn’t half the monster that you feared.

Pairing: Boba Fett x F!Reader

AU Prompt: Western AU

Word Count: 2444

Warnings: Reader runs a brothel, smut

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Alright, I wasn't able to add the actual smut part without it throwing off the flow of the story, but it goes right up to the smut part and then stops. I hope you like it. Also, when I wrote it I was picturing ROTJ Boba.

“Madame,” You lift your gaze from your ledger at the soft voice of one of your girls, “I...have you heard?”

“I hear a lot of things,” You reply, scanning the girl for any visible injuries, before dropping your gaze back to your ledger, a frown pulling your lips down. Once Jabba takes his cut, you’re going be barely make any profit this week.

“Honorable Jabba has hired a new bounty hunter.” You lift your gaze again. You hadn’t heard that. “Do you...will he be...do you think he’ll be like the other ones?”

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly, “But so long as you’re nice to the gentleman-”

“They’ll be nice to me, yes Madame, I know.” The girl, because that is what she is, only recently nineteen, smooths her long skirts and straightens her corset, “We will be opening soon?”

“We will. All of you have been reserved for the evening. With familiar names,” You reassure, and you’re relieved to see some of the tension drain from her shoulders. “Off you trot,” You don’t turn your gaze back to the ledger until you hear the soft click of her bedroom door shutting behind her.

And then you drop your gaze back to the numbers in your book.

Maybe, with some careful editing, you can make Jabba believe that you made less money then you actually did. And then you’ll be able to afford the food that your girls need to survive.

It’s not as if the slug himself checks your numbers.

And his accountant has always had a soft spot for you, and your home.

You are the sole owner and proprietor of the Desert Rose, the only brothel in the town of Old Ashton. You used to be a regular employee, yourself, until some clever gambling and even more clever money hiding allowed you to buy the previous owner out.

So now you protect the girls to the best of your ability.

Unfortunately, the best of your ability isn’t good enough.

You close your ledger with a snap and slid it into the locked drawer in your desk, and stand. You smooth your dark green skirt and make sure your corset is laced properly, and then you head to the front of the house.

You may not entertain the gentlemen anymore, but that doesn’t mean that you can neglect your appearance.

The men are already lined up at the door, joking and laughing with each other. And, as you open the door, they settle themselves into a more respectful manner. They know that you will toss them out if they become a problem.

You have before, after all.

“Gentlemen,” You greet with a dainty smile, “Welcome to the Desert Rose. The girls have been eagerly awaiting you.”

It’s all a show. An act.

Honestly, you should have gone into show business with how skillful your acting skills have become over the years.

While you’re not sure if the gentlemen believe your words, they at least pretend that they do. Which is good enough.

You allow the men into your home and take the payments in advance, before you send them off to the girl of the night. And then your home is silent, save for the sound of music playing from the old jukebox in the corner.

Shelling out credits to make all of the rooms sound proof was the cleverest thing you’ve ever done. Right up there with the panic button you had installed in each girls room.

You’re about to change the song playing, when the bell over the door chimes as the door opens.

“Terribly sorry,” You say absently, without turning away from the jukebox, “But all of the girls have been spoken for this evening.”

“A rather small brothel you’re running,” The voice is deep and unfamiliar to you, and is surprising enough to you that you turn your attention away from the machine in front of you to regard the man.

He’s tall and broad chested, he takes up a lot of space in your foyer, though it almost seems like he takes up more space than he physically should. He seems to be allergic to color, you note with some distant amusement, everything from his boots to his hat are the darkest black. The only color coming from the dark green shirt he’s wearing.

“Old Ashton is a small place,” You reply as you walk around him and settle behind your desk, and you favor him with a small smile, “Welcome to the Desert Rose.”

He stalks towards the desk, there’s no other word for how he moves, “Boba Fett.”

“Ah. Jabba’s newest muscle.”

“So the rumors have already started.”

“As I said, small town.” You open your scheduling book, “If you’re looking to spend time with a girl, I’m afraid you’ll have to make a reservation. All of my girls are booked for the night.”

“Including you.”

You tilt your head to look at him, “I no longer entertain gentlemen callers, Mister Fett.”

His dark eyes scan you as best as they can with you seated behind the desk, and you’re fairly certain that he’s looking down your top. “Never?” He questions.

“Never.” You confirm.

“Hm.” He finally tears his gaze away from your tits and flashes a small, cocky, smile, “I bet I can change your mind.” He nods at you once, and then turns and leaves as suddenly as he arrived.

The front door closes with a quiet click, and you release a quiet breath. Cockiness isn’t attractive, you’ve never thought that.

But you like to think that you’re pretty good at reading men, and that didn’t read like cockiness to you. No, it reads as confidence. And that makes him incredibly attractive.

You tap your pen against your lower lip, and sigh, “Shame that he works for Jabba, though.” You murmur to the empty foyer, before you go back to work. Your business isn’t going to run itself, after all.

The next time you see Boba Fett, you’re doing your shopping for the week. Not shopping for the girls, but for yourself.

You’re window shopping, to be more specific. Eyeing a lovely green skirt that would pair amazingly with the dark brown corset that has been sitting in the back of your closet...and naturally a new dress would require new boots-

You almost manage to talk yourself into buying the skirt, when you hear heavy footsteps stop next to you.

“It’s a lovely color.” A deep voice, familiar in it’s unfamiliarity, jolts you out of your thoughts. “You’d look very good in it.”

Boba Fett stands less than a foot away from you, his head tilted down as though his words are for your ears and your ears alone.

“I look good in everything,” You reply lightly.

“I imagine you look good out of everything too,” He counters with a sly smirk.

“That’s for me to know and you to wonder about.”

“Oh, I did wonder. Repeatedly.” There’s no shame in his voice, and you’re grateful that your thick makeup is hiding the blush you can feel burning your face.

Hurriedly, you change the subject before he notices your embarrassment, “I’m surprised that Jabba let you off his leash long enough to come to the market.”

“Just doing my job, ma’am.” He drawls.

“And what job would that be?” You shoot back, “Terrorizing innocent shopkeepers.”

Boba’s dark eyes pin you in place, and you refuse to back down out of sheer stubbornness, “Careful,” He murmurs, “Your sharp tongue is going to get you in trouble.”

“From you?”

He leans back, and somehow still takes up more space than a man his size should, “No. I don’t raise my hand against women. But Jabba is much less kind than I.”

“And yet you work for him anyway.”

“Credits are credits, darlin.” Boba scans your body with a casual ease that should have infuriated you, but for some reason, didn’t. “And you clearly agree, seeing as you run a whore house.”

“It’s a brothel, not a whore house.”

“A brothel is a whore house. You’re just arguing semantics now.”

You prop your hand on your hip, “I’m leaving now.”

“What about your skirt?”

“With the tithes that Jabba demands, I can’t afford it anyway.” You admit with a scowl.

Boba gazes at you thoughtfully, and then he nods and turns his gaze back tot he clothing in the window.

Assuming that he had nothing more to say to you, you cast one last longing glance at the skirt, before you turn and walk away. It’s probably a good thing that he showed up when he did, there’s no way you would have been able to afford the skirt and food for the week.

Later, as you’re putting the groceries away in your private studio, you admit to yourself that even without the skirt, you barely had enough money to get all of the food that you needed for the week.

As you open the Desert Rose for the evening, you come to the realization that you’re going to have to put yourself back on the roster to be able to keep food on your table, and to keep your girls fed.

Once more, several hours after the last man arrived for his appointment with one of your girls, the door opens and Boba walks into the foyer.

“Seems to me that you have rotten luck, Mister Fett.” You drawl without looking up from your ledger, as if staring at the numbers will make your reality less horrifying. “All of the girls have been spoken for.”

“There’s only one girl I want to take me to her bed,” Boba replies as he sets a box on the counter and pushes it in your direction, “For you.”

“What is it?” You ask, ignoring his first comment with ease.

“Open it and you’ll see.”

You squint at him suspiciously, and then nod slowly. You tug on the ribbon that’s holding the box closed, and move the lid and the tissue paper to the side, and then you stop as you see what’s in the box.

It’s the skirt.

More than the skirt, actually. It’s a whole outfit. Skirt and top and stockings and boots-

“What-?”

“A gift, for you. You deserve nice things.”

“How much did this cost?”

“Not so much to break the bank.” Boba replies with a wave of his hand, “The seamstress knew what size you wear, so everything should fit.”

You stare at the present for a moment, and then you groan and drop your head, “Whyyy? You work for Jabba! Why are you so nice?”

Boba watches you seriously for a moment, “Is that the only thing stopping you?”

“I...what?”

“Me working for Jabba, is that the only thing stopping you from taking me to bed?”

“...It isn’t helping, no.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

He doesn’t answer and instead leaves the building, leaving you staring after him, absolutely bewildered, and with a brand new outfit sitting in your hands.

In truth, you don’t expect to see Boba again that night, so when he returns to the Desert Rose less than an hour later, something cold and grim in his gaze, you’re genuinely surprised.

“Welcome back?” You offer hesitantly, not sure what to make of his grim, yes strangely satisfied, expression.

“Jabba’s dead.”

His words are so startling that you almost drop the glass that you’re holding. “What?”

“Jabba’s dead. Wasn’t even hard, thought he’d have more guards.”

“You killed-!” Your voice is pitched higher than it should be and you could and lower your voice, “You killed Jabba? Why?”

“Because it’s what I was hired to do.” Boba says with a single arched brow, “And because I’m not blind, I can see what he was doing to the village. And then he insulted your honor.”

His words roll around your mind for a moment, “You killed Jabba, in part, because he insulted me?”

“Is that such a surprise?”

You walk over to him and reach out to lightly touch his cheek, “You’re not...hurt?”

“He didn’t touch me.” Boba confirms.

For a moment you stare at him, trying to determine if he’s lying to you, and as soon as you realize that he’s speaking the truth, you drop your hand from his cheek and hook a finger in his belt loop, “Come with me.”

There’s a glimmer of triumph on his handsome face, “Yes ma’am.”

Your personal apartment is pretty small, but it’s big enough for what you have planned, and for what he has planned for that matter.

Boba’s on you the moment he kicks the door shut, his hands heavy as the drag over the thick material of your clothes. He tugs at laces and pulls at buttons, until your dress falls to your feet.

“Beautiful,” He growls as one of his hands slides down your back to tightly grip your ass, his fingers digging into you and causing you to lift to your toes with a pleased gasp.

“Thank you,” You murmur, before you pull him down to press your lips against his.

Boba takes control almost immediately, and you happily let him.

He lifts you into his arms and walks you over to your bed, where he drops you in the middle of the mattress, “I’m going to ruin other men for you, princess.” He warns, as he starts to strip his clothes off and tosses them to the side.

You scramble to your knees, eager to watch him strip for you, and he shoots you an amused look.

“Someone’s eager.” Boba teases, not unkindly, “I’m going to use my mouth on your cute pussy, and then open you up with my fingers.” He explains, his gaze locked on your face, a smirk crossing his face when you lick your lips, “And then I’m going to lay back and let you ride me.”

“Let?”

“Let.” Boba confirms, “Because I’m going to be in complete control the whole time.”

You shiver in delight and crawl to the edge of the bed, your gaze dropping to his cock. “Can I-?” You ask as you reach out to touch him.

Boba catches your wrists and smirks at you, “You want to taste me, princess?”

“Yes, please.”

“Later. Lay back.” He presses a hand against your shoulder and pushes you back to the bed, before he kneels between your thighs, taking care to toss your legs over his broad shoulders.

You can feel his breath fanning against your pussy, and you squirm to try and push yourself closer to him, but his strong hands stop you from moving.

“Careful Princess,” His dark eyes glimmer with amusement, “We don’t want this to end too quickly, do we?”

[vodika-vibes]

This is where the Masterlist of my AU Event goes

Vodika-Vibes 650 Followers Event Notice - CLOSED

For The Dancing - Jango Fett x F!Reader - Fantasy AU

Fancy - Boba Fett x F!Reader - Western AU - Smut

Woe To The People - Commander Fox x F!Reader - Apocalypse AU

Mischief - Clone Trooper Tup x F!Reader - Mermaid AU/Soulmate AU

You Will Be Okay - Captain Rex x F!Reader - Regency AU

The Soldier and the Frog - TBB Wrecker x GN!Reader - Princess and the Frog AU

Oh Traveler Come - TBB Echo x F!Reader - Monster/Ghost AU

Sins Of The Father - Commander Wolffe x F!Reader - Monster AU

Hard To Kill - Clone Commando Sev x F!Reader - Mystic AU - Smut

Don't Worry, I Have you - ARC Trooper Jesse x F!Reader - Mermaid AU

POW - Jango Fett x F!Reader - Undersea/Mermaid AU

One More Moment - Commander Cody x F!Reader - Undersea AU

Better Place - Clone OC: Misfit x F!Reader - Western AU

Lucky - Mereel Skirata x F!Reader - Mermaid AU

The Marshal - ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader - Western AU

God Of War - Commander Fox x F!Reader - Mystic AU

The Privateer - ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader - Mermaid AU

Fields of Gold - TBB Hunter x F!Reader - Modern AU

Let's Fly - ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader - Regency AU

Singing - Ordo Skirata x F!Reader - Soulmate AU

Lost - TBB Wrecker x F!Reader - Soulmate AU

Hope Is A Thing With Feathers - Clone Trooper Dogma x F!Reader - Dragon AU

Cin Vhetin - Jango Fett x F!Reader - Fairy Tale AU

Wild Places - Prudii Skirata x F!Reader - Mystic AU - Smut

Noble Maiden Fair - TBB Crosshair x F!Reader - Soulmate AU

I Give Hope To Man - Alpha-17 x F!Reader - Mystic AU

Ranger - TBB Crosshair x GN!Reader - Western AU

Surface Pressure - TBB Tech x F!Reader - Soul Mate AU

Inspiration - Clone Trooper Dogma x F!Reader - College AU - Smut

What Comes After - Clone Commando Sev x GN!Reader - Soulmate AU

Protective - CX-2 x F!Reader - Soulmate AU

Swan Prince - ARF Trooper Hound x F!Reader - Selkie AU

One More Kiss - Commander Mayday x F!Reader - Soulmate AU

Defend Yourself - TBB Crosshair x F!Reader - Modern AU - Smut

Hopelessly Devoted - Clone Trooper Dogma x GN!Reader - Mystic AU

Up Where They Walk - Captain Gregor x GN!Reader - Mermaid AU

Trouble - TBB Echo x F!reader - Soulmates AU

Not A Monster - TBB Crosshair x GN!Reader - Beauty and the Beast AU

Love, Me - Darman Skirata x F!Reader - Western AU

Masquerade - TBB Wrecker x F!Reader - Cinderella AU

I Love You - ARC Trooper Jesse x GN!Reader - Soulmate AU

Please Trust Me - TBB Hunter x F!Reader - Mermaid AU

Thousand Years - Clone Trooper Dogma x F!Reader - Mermaid AU

Three Pair - TBB Crosshair x F!Reader x TBB Tech - Monster AU - Smut

My Lady's Choice - Captain Rex x F!Reader - Fairy Tale AU

Immortal Flames - Commander Thire x F!Reader - Mystic AU

Fields of Snow - Commander Mayday x F!Reader - Regency AU

Stand By You - Platonic TBB x F!Reader - Mermaid AU

Accidents Happen - TBB Echo x F!Reader - Mystic AU

Every Time - Clone Commando Sev x F!Reader - MerSoul AU

Never Enough - TBB Tech x F!Reader - Enemies to Lovers AU

Coffee Cake - ARC Trooper Fives x GN!Reader - Modern AU

Trapped - Commander Wolffe x F!Reader - Sleeping Beauty AU

When The Sun Loves The Moon - TBB Echo x F!Reader - MerSoul AU

Monsterous Love - Clone Trooper Tup x GN!Reader - Monster AU

Our Unending Dream - Commander Fox x F!Reader - Regency AU

[vodika-vibes]

congrats on 650!!!!! could I get a regency AU with Fives? I've been obsessssedddd with bridgerton lately and why not smash my two favorite things rn together! you can do whatever you want with the story!

Let's Fly

Summary: After the untimely deaths of your father and older brother, you find yourself living in a home that is both cold and unwelcoming. Convinced that your father and brother were murdered, you reach out for help. This is how you meet Private Investigator Fives.

Pairing: Pre-ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader

Word Count: 1923

Warnings: None

Prompt: Regency AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, when you said Regency AU, you definitely meant Murder Mystery a la Sherlock Holmes right? Because that's what this is. Anyway, this does end on a cliffhanger, it gives me something to come back to if I feel like it, and it lets the readers decide what they want to happen. I hope you like it! The name came from the song I was listening to when I started writing it.

“I am very sorry about your husband and stepson, Lady Harride.” Father Paul says as he takes your stepmother’s hands in his own, trying to offer comfort.

“Thank you, Father.” Your stepmother, Cassandra Harride, says quietly. She hasn’t cried once since the deaths of your father or brother at the beginning of the week.

You know that people grieve differently, but you’re pretty sure she’s not grieving at all. 

Not that you’re crying either. You’ve long since run out of tears. 

You don’t look at your stepmother or Father Paul as they speak next to you. No, you keep your gaze locked on the identical coffins at the front of the church. Coffins identical to the one that you buried your mother in three years ago.

You can’t help but wonder if you’ll be buried in an identical coffin too.

“Mistress Harride,” Father Paul kneels at your feet, and you slowly turn your gaze to the man who’s watched you grow up, “I am so sorry for your loss.”

You feel numb. Numb and empty.

“Thank you, Father.” You say automatically.

“If either of you need anything,” He continues as he looks from you to your stepmother, and then back again, “Please, don’t be afraid to let the church know. We are here for you.”

“Thank you, Father. I’ll let you know.” Your stepmother says politely, “Are you ready to go?” She asks as she lightly touches your shoulder.

You’re quiet for a moment, and then slowly get to your feet, “Yes. I suppose there’s nothing left here for me.”

Father Paul stands as well, “Will we see you both this weekend?”

“Of course, Father. We wouldn’t miss it.” Your stepmother says quietly, “Excuse us.”

She leads you through the church, and then out to where the family carriage is waiting. The footman helps her into the carriage first, and then you, and shuts the door with a very final-sounding click.

“That was a very nice service,” Cassandra notes thoughtfully, “Reminds me of your mother’s service.”

“They were identical.” You reply numbly, “Same flowers, same sermon, same mourners—”

“Ah. Yes, of course.” She falls silent and adjusts her skirt, “So, I was thinking,” She begins, “How would you feel about moving into the East wing?”

The East Wing. Where your brother lived.

“If you like, Cassandra.” You say quietly.

“I think it’ll be for the best.” She continues, “Maker knows that the balcony outside your bedroom needs to be repaired.” The older woman pauses, “I would hate for something to happen to you.”

“...of course, Cassandra.”

Your father paid for you to attend the nicest boarding schools on the continent. He paid for tutors and lessons and everything in between. He felt that your education was one of the most important things that he would ever gift you.

As a result, you are not a stupid woman.

You know that your father’s and brother’s deaths were not an accident. They were killed. And, if you were a suspicious person, you might wonder if your mother was murdered as well.

And, really, there’s only one person who would benefit from all of their deaths. The same woman who you now live alone with.

“Cassandra?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I was thinking of going into the city later today.” You murmur, “If you have no qualms about me borrowing the carriage?”

“Today?”

You don’t look at her, your gaze locked on the trees racing passed the carriage instead, “I’m finding the house… stifling, these last few days. I believe that getting out will be good for me.”

Cassandra nods slowly, “Of course. I felt much the same after my father died.”

At that, you pull your gaze away from the window, “How long did it take you to feel normal again?”

She drops her gaze to her lap, “Years. And even now, I wake up some mornings expecting to hear his voice.” There seems to be genuine concern in her voice, “The pain never really goes away. I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, though.”

“No. Not really.”

Cassandra nods, “I think a visit to the city will be good for you. Will you change out of your mourning gown?”

“I’ll change into a lighter one.”

“And you’ll wear your mourning veil.”

“Of course.” Your veil is much shorter than your stepmother’s, as the widow, hers is much longer. You allow your gaze to drift back out the window, and the carriage descends into a stilted silence.

Harride Manor has been in your family for seven generations. Built by one of your ancestors as a wedding gift for his wife. It houses over 80 people, half of them related to you.

Your stepmother believes that the house is hers.

That couldn’t be further from the truth. 

With the death of your father and brother the house and title now belong to your uncle, Mariano Harride. 

Uncle Mariano seems to have aged twenty years over the last week you note as he helps you out of the carriage and then ignores your stepmother. “My dear girl,” He places his hands on your shoulders, “How are you holding up?”

“As well as can be expected, uncle.”

“Yes,” He looks deeply pained, “I never expected to outlive your father. He’s always been healthy as a horse.” Uncle Mariano sighs deeply, “No matter, nothing will change now that the house is mine.”

“What?” Your stepmother asks as she approaches.

Your Uncle glances at her dismissively, “The house reverts to me with the death of my brother. You’ll be moved into the West Wing, Cassandra, with the rest of the extended family.”

Your stepmother flushes an ugly shade of red, “I just lost my husband and now I have to move?” She demands.

“Yes. You do.” He turns his back on her, and focuses his attention on you, “Of course, you’ll be allowed to keep your room.”

“I told her she needed to move into the East Wing.”

“It’s not your home anymore.” Uncle Mariano says sharply, “She can remain in her room until such time that she decides to marry.” He exhales slowly, “What are your plans for this afternoon, dear?”

“I was going to change and head into the city, Uncle. The house feels stifling these days.”

“Of course.” He lightly hugs you, “You’ve lost so much these last couple of years. You deserve a break.” 

“Thank you, Uncle.” You pull away from him and head into the house.

All you need is to change clothes, and then you can leave. 

Just a simple change of clothes, and then you can go and get help.

Private Investigator Fives sits in the living room in his brownstone, absently sorting the case files of the cases that he’s worked on in the past month. 

He owns this practice with his twin brother, though Echo has been away on a case of his own for the last two months. He knows that his twin is fine, Echo sends letters every other day after all, but he does miss him.

Fives pauses, mid-filing, when the doorbell rings. 

He sets his filing to the side and jogs over to the door, pulling it open with a polite smile. However, that polite smile is replaced with confusion when he sees the young woman on the doorstep.

She’s younger than him, probably by a couple of years. Her hair is covered with a black veil of mourning, and she’s clad in a mourning dress. And Fives realizes that he recognizes her.

“Mistress Harride,” He greets, “This is a surprise. Come in, come in.”  He opens the door wider and escorts her into the home, and over to one of the plush chairs.

“Thank you,” She folds her hands on her lap, “You’re the lead detective here, correct? Fives?”

“Yes, that’s me.” He sinks into a seat across from her, “Forgive me, Mistress Harride, but as I understand, your father and brother’s funerals were today—”

“You’re right. They were.” She agrees, “I…” She pauses and her hands curl around the dark material of her dress. 

Fives frowns, “You can tell me.”

She lifts her chin, and there are tears in her eyes, “I think my father and brother were murdered. And I fear that I might be next.”

He leans back in his seat, absently stroking his goatee, “As I understand, your father and brother were killed in a hunting accident.”

“No.” She pauses, “I mean, that is what the local authorities determined. But—”

“You don’t agree.”

“No.”

“Okay, tell me why.”

“My father and brother have been hunting their entire lives. They’ve always been careful. Especially after mom died.”

“Miss Harride, there’s no proof that your father and brother were murdered.” Fives says kindly.

“I know that.” She retorts, “I know there’s no proof. But I’m telling you, this wasn’t an accident.”

He sighs, “Miss Harride—”

“Detective.” She interrupts, “I lost my entire family in under three years. My father married my stepmother seven months after she died. And then my father and brother died less than two years later. There’s something not right.”

“Sometimes bad things happen.” Fives points out.

“Detective, if you don’t help me, the next time you see me will be in the news after I die in an accident.” She says quietly.

Fives leans back in his seat and stares at her, “You really think you’re in danger?”

“If not me, then someone else in my family.”

“...okay.”

“Detective?”

“I’ll take the case.”

Her entire face brightens, “You will?”

“I will. Is there anything else you feel like you need to tell me?”

She ducks her head and twists her skirt between her fingers.

“There is, isn’t there?”

“I…yes.” She shifts uncomfortably, “I don’t have any proof, but—”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for. Let’s hear it.”

“I think Mother was murdered too.”

“How did she die?”

“The doctor said she had a heart attack.”

“How old was she, when she died?” Fives asks.

“Late thirties.”

“Young for a heart attack. Did she have a heart condition?”

“No. The Doctor thought it was strange too, but he said that it happens sometimes.” She replies.

“Hm.” Fives taps the arm of the chair he’s sitting in, “You know, there are some poisons that can mimic heart attacks.”

“You think my mom was poisoned?”

“I think it’s possible, but I have no proof. Yet.” He stands, “Do you have a carriage?”

“Yes. It’s waiting at the station.” She replies.

“Wonderful.” Fives moves around the living room, gathering his go-bag and pulling his jacket on, “Well then, shall we?”

“You have no idea how much I appreciate this.” She says as she stands and follows him to the front door.

“Don’t thank me yet.” He opens the door and lets her out of the house. “However, this is my promise to you, Miss Harride.” Fives says as he takes your hand and brings your knuckles to his lips, “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

“You mean it?”

“I swear on my life.” Fives promises as his gaze locks with hers.

“Well, that’s something for me to thank you for then, isn’t it?” She asks with a small smile.

“I suppose it is.” Fives agrees, he releases her hand and motions for her to walk with him, “Now, I need you to tell me everything you can about your parents and brother. And all of the players in this game.”

“I can do that, where would you like me to start?”

Fives grins at her, “Tell me about your Stepmother, Miss Harride.”

[vodika-vibes]

😌 idk if my first request for a fox x reader went through but i’ve been reading a lot (ofc whats new) and uh uh I found I really love fics with CX-2 (Clone Assassin) aND SO, to my favorite SW writer I ask;

How bout a soulmate au with CX-2 (?) Could be a bit of angst with a happy ending, and everyone is just wondering how reader could be with him after all the things he’s done (uh im getting sunshine!reader x grumpy character vibes)

dont have to write this! i just would love to see some more cx-2 fics after reading one just now lol also im down the rabbit hole again that its cx-2!tech whose been reconditioned, do what you feel is best but i just love that theory bc I’m a firm believer too that tech never died 😌

Protective

Summary: For a long time, your parents feared that you didn’t have a soulmate. Until, one morning, you woke up and found a wild dog curled up next to you on your bed. You named him Noir, and the people around you quickly learned that he was fiercely protective of you. However, after Noir kills an Imperial Officer after he threatens, you have no choice but to go on the run.

Pairing: CX-2 x F!Reader, background Tech x Phee

Word Count: 2799

Warnings: None

Prompt: Soulmate AU - soulmates have spirit animals representing each other.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So I wasn't able to get the angst to work, largely because I wasn't in an angsty mood. Also, as much as I love the CX-2 being Tech idea, I had a different idea for this fic, so I hope you like it!

“What d’ya have there, Noir?” You ask as you return to the small hut that has been your home for the last three months and crouch in front of your oldest companion.

Noir’s tail wags rapidly as he nudges something in your direction.

You gently rub his head, then carefully pick up his offering, “Oh, it’s a fish. Did you find dinner for us, pal?”

Noir releases a happy yip, and you laugh softly, “Good job, Noir.” You stand and carry the fish over to the rough kitchen to divvy up the portions. Most of the fish will go to Noir, while you’ll prepare your portion with some seasoning that the Wookies traded with you.

Three months ago, Noir slaughtered an Imperial Officer who threatened your life. You’ve always known that he is fiercely protective of you, and you knew that there was a chance that he would kill again if you were threatened.

The first time it happened you had still been a child. Your uncle tried to kidnap you, and Noir reacted violently. 

That time, the authorities just nodded and said it made sense, that your uncle had bad intentions. Neither you, nor Noir, were punished for the death of your uncle.

The Empire is much less understanding.

You had no choice but to take Noir and flee from Coruscant.

The pair of you bounced from planet to planet for several months and then were offered a safe house on Kashyyyk, in the Shadowlands far below the treetop homes of the Wookie people.

It’s not easy.

You are, at your heart, a city girl. Hunting and survival skills do not come naturally to you. Luckily, you have Noir. He really is the greatest equalizer.

If not for him, you’d have died several times since you moved into the small hut.

The biggest downside to this whole situation is the knowledge that you’re not likely to ever meet your soul mate.

Well, unless your soulmate is a Wookie, you suppose.

Carefully, you fillet the fish on your cutting board and toss the large majority into Noir’s bowl, the rest is set in a bowl of marinade and shoved into the fridge. 

At least you have electricity. 

Sure, you don’t have a holo, but you do have a radio that allows you to keep up to date on the current events, and, much more importantly, listen to books while you fight to keep the Shadowlands from reclaiming the hut.

You’re about to flip the radio on, when Noir releases a low growl.

A growl low enough that your hair stands on end.

You turn your gaze to Noir and see that his ears are flat against his head and his teeth are bared. Spooked, you reach for your belt and grab your blaster, and then you nudge the door open.

Noir slinks out of the hut and, cautiously, you follow him.

The forest is silent. Eerily silent. 

You scan the forest around you, not that you expect to be able to see or hear anything. It’s enough that Noir is still growling as though he’s on the verge of attacking.

There’s a rustle in a bush, and you lift your blaster, only to lower it as a small, curious-looking creature ambles out. It’s red, black, and white, and you’d almost think it was a raccoon if not for the colors.

Noir is still growling like there’s a threat, but he’s ignoring the small creature, which is still ambling towards you. It stops at your feet and raises on its hind legs, and you crouch to get a better look at it.

When Noir first appeared in your bedroom all those years ago, no one was sure what kind of animal he was. Not even the zoologists at the local university were able to determine a species.

So you spent a lot of time as a child flipping through various animal encyclopedias. And, while you’d never claim that you had a perfect memory, this little creature does look familiar.

“You’re a Red Panda, aren’t you?” You murmur as you lightly stroke the soft fur on top of her head, “Your kind isn’t native to Kashyyyk, how did you get here?” What’s more is that she’s soft, as though someone’s been taking care of her, though based on the scarring around her ankles, she’s been chained up a lot. “Are you someone’s pet?”

The red panda climbs into your arms and promptly falls asleep, nuzzling her face into your neck. “Well, you’ve clearly been socialized. Maybe I can do something about the scarring.”

Your head snaps up as there’s more rustling and Noir’s growl lowers.

Five Stormtroopers stumble into the clearing, “There it is!” One of them says as he points at the Red Panda in your arms, “Get it!”

You stumble backward as they lift their blasters and Noir launches himself at the Stormtroopers. 

You’ve always known that Noir was quick. Quick and with a strong bite, but the last time you’ve seen him move this quickly was when you were a child. He manages to kill three of the Stormtroopers before they recognize that he’s a threat.

The fourth and fifth, however, turn their blasters on him.

And, for a moment, you think that you’re going to watch Noir die. 

You only think that for a moment, as another man emerges from the forest. He’s clad in black armor, much unlike the stark white armor of the Stormtroopers. And you watch as he uses a blade to kill one of the Stormtroopers from behind. 

You watch as he and Noir work in concert to kill the last of the Stormtroopers.

And then you watch as Noir jumps up on the man, his tail wagging faster than you’ve ever seen before. The armored man seems surprised at how friendly Noir is, and, to be honest, you are too.

He’s so friendly with the armored man, in fact, that you can’t help but think that Noir is the representation of said armored man.

“Noir,” You say, drawing the attention of both the wild dog and the armored man, “His name is Noir.”

It’s kind of hard to read him, seeing as he’s wearing a helmet, but you’re pretty sure that he’s staring at you. “Ka’ra.” He gestures to the red panda in your arms, “She’s been a prisoner her whole life.”

“That explains the scarring,” You walk over to him and pass him his spirit animal, a small smile crossing your face as Noir drops to his paws and bounces around you. “I have some medical stuff, to wrap her scars if you want.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and then nods once, “I’d appreciate that.”

You lead him into the hut, and motion for him to take a seat anywhere while you dig around for the first aid kit.

Once you find it, you set it on the table and open it to dig through what you have left. “You know, you don’t have to leave your helmet on.” You note lightly, “This is a pretty safe place.”

The man hesitates for a moment, then he nods once and reaches up to pull off his helmet. 

You’re genuinely surprised to see that he’s a clone. He looks like every other clone you’ve ever seen, dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin…though he does have some nasty scarring along the side of his face.

He’s handsome, you decide as you focus back on your medkit. He kind of looks like Noir, if you squint.

Though, now you have to wonder if you look like his Ka’ra.

“Ah, here we go!” You pull several rolls of bandages from the bottom of the kit and some scar powder. “If I remember correctly, this needs to be added to water, and then the bandages need to soak in it for a bit before we apply them—” You mumble under your breath as you flip the bottle and squint at the instructions.

“What’s your name?” The man asks.

You glance at him and introduce yourself absently, before you squint at the directions again, “What’s yours?”

“...CX-2.”

You pause, “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve never actually met another person with a soul animal before.”

“It’s rare, then?”

“One of the rarest soul bonds.” You agree, “The only one that’s more rare is the teleportation one.” You stand to grab a clean bowl and fill it with water before placing it on the table.

“I have a brother with the teleportation soul bond. He vanished one day, never saw him again.” CX replies as he watches you.

“Well, there are a lot of you.” You reply as you add some of the powder to the water and stir it in.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, “What is a human doing on Kashyyyk?”

“Ah…well.” You pause, “Noir killed an Imperial Officer who threatened me.”

CX stares at you for a long time, and then his lips curl up into an amused smile, “Good.”

You shoot him a puzzled look.

“He’s as protective of you as I would be.”

“Yeah, well…he is representative of you, right?” You reply with a small shrug.

“I didn’t expect you to be so calm about it,” CX notes, “You do realize that I’m an assassin, right?”

You start unrolling a roll of bandages, “When I was about eleven years old,” You say quietly, “My uncle tried to kidnap me from my bedroom. Noir,” You nod at the wild dog who is gnawing on a bone, “ripped his throat out before he got me out of the living room.” You look at him, “Why should I be afraid of you?”

CX looks startled for a moment, and then a quiet laugh falls from his lips, “I suppose you have good reason to not be afraid.”

You shrug, “I would prefer it if you didn’t assassinate people anymore, but I’d also prefer to not live in a hut on Kashyyyk, so—” You shrug again, and finally drop the bandages into the water.

“What would you have me do instead?”

“Mm, you can join the Rebellion?”

“Ick.”

A laugh falls from you, “I mean when the Republic was still standing, I never had to worry about Republic Officers threatening me. Within a month of the Republic turning into an Empire, I was threatened by an Imperial Officer.”

“...I suppose that it fair.”

“I’m not going to make you do anything,” You say lightly, “We can stay here if you prefer.”

“We?”

“Well, I assume that you want to stay with me?”

CX gazes at you silently, “I want you safe. So staying does make the most sense.”

You meet his gaze evenly, “I’ll definitely be safer with you, compared to away from you.” You agree.

CX is silent for a long moment, “Mandalore.”

“Beg pardon?”

“There’s a group of former Commandos who have a compound on Mandalore. They’re housing clones and their families.” He explains, “We’ll be safe there.”

“How do you know that?”

“All of the Clones know it.” He says, “Well, save for Alpha Prime, I suppose.”

“How are we supposed to get there?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

“I have a ship.”

You grin at him, and then pull the bandages out of the water, “I think it’s a great idea.”

It takes three weeks for you and CX to get to Mandalore, and it takes even longer for CX to prove that he’s not an active threat to his brothers. You’re not able to help with that, but watching him interact with you does a lot to earn him some goodwill.

You like your new home, it’s not Coruscant, but there is plenty of room for Noir to run around and get spoiled, and he does get spoiled. Not quite as much as CX’s Ka’ra, but pretty close. 

Surprisingly, CX is somewhat clingy. When he’s in the same area as you, his arms are around you, or his hand is in yours. You kind of have the feeling that he’s a little touch starved, so you don’t mind it.

On this particular day, you’re lounging in the sun, watching Noir and Ka’ra play together, while CX is sparring with Ordo (only the Nulls aren’t hesitant about sparring with CX, which is sad, but understandable).

You enjoy watching him spar largely because he tends to spar shirtless.

You’re allowed to be a simple woman when it comes to your soulmate, right?

“Watching them again?” A familiar voice pulls you out of your musing, and you tilt your head back to look up at the familiar man approaching you. “You could join them.”

“Hardly, if Ordo so much as scratched me, both Noir and CX would rip him to shreds.” You pat the ground next to you, “Have a seat, Tech. No need to hover.”

“He still wishes to be called CX?” Tech asks as he sinks to the ground next to you.

“It’s his choice.” You reply easily, “How was your physical therapy?”

“Painful,” Tech replies, matter-of-factly, “However, my healer believes that I am getting to the point where I will no longer need to see them.”

“That’s something. Are you thinking of reaching out to your brothers? Or your soulmate?”

“I am…unsure.”

“Oh?”

“I died.” He says bluntly, wincing as CX manages to flip Ordo onto his back, “I died, and my soul bond is weaker than it was before.”

“I assume your doctor has an opinion on that.”

“Of course. He says that I just need to reach out to Phee.”

“Why haven’t you?”

Tech anxiously adjusts his glasses, “What if she has found someone else?”

“Do you really think that she would?”

“...she is a beautiful and clever woman. Any man would be lucky to have her—” Tech starts.

“You’re borrowing trouble, Tech. You need to call her.”

Tech opens his mouth to reply but stops as CX jogs over.

You smile up at him adoringly, and offer him his water bottle, “Having fun, love?”

He smirks, “Ordo is bitching because I managed to flip him. So we’re having a round two.”

“Of course you are.”

He flashes a tiny grin at you and crouches so he’s able to kiss you quickly before he jogs back over to the sparring ring. His training was so different from his brothers, you can tell based on the scars covering his body, and based on the fact that he’s not quite as solid as Ordo and the other Nulls.

Not that any of that matters to you.

You love him as he is.

“It does not make sense to me how someone as kind as you ended up with someone like him,” Tech admits, “He intimidates everyone, and lashes out when pushed.”

“I’ve never been afraid of him.” You reply with a small grin, “Even when he killed someone in front of me, even when he loses his temper.”

Tech shakes his head, “I believe I understand.”

You tilt your head curiously.

“You are just as insane as he is.”

You aren’t able to help that laughter that bursts from your lips, “I suppose,” You say through your giggles, “that’s one way to view it.”

Tech flashes a crooked smile at you, and then gets back to his feet, “I am going to go send Phee a message, and hope that she forgives me. Enjoy your ogling.”

You fling a handful of grass at him but don’t deny his accusations. 

The spar ends an hour later after it gets too hot for them to continue, and CX makes his way to your side, dropping onto the ground next to you. Immediately his arms slide around your waist and he presses his face against your neck.

“Did you have fun?” You ask as you card your fingers through his curls. 

He hums in response, his arms tightening around you, “I’m glad that you don’t mind coming to these.”

“I enjoy watching you spar.”

He pulls his face away from your neck, “You enjoy watching me do anything.” 

“You are ridiculously handsome.” You shift in his grip slightly so you’re able to press your hands against his cheeks, “I’m a lucky lady.”

“Mm, is that right?” CX asks as he leans in and presses his forehead against yours.

“You’re all sweaty,” You whisper to him. 

“So maybe we should go home,” He offers with an arched brow, “You can wash my hair for me.”

A giggle falls from your lips, “Deal.”

CX grins at you, and crashes his lips against yours, knocking you back onto the grass.

Everything isn’t perfect, CX still needs gene therapy to remove the enhanced aging, not to mention regular therapy to help deal with all of his issues. But so long as you’re together, everything will be fine.

You won’t allow for anything else.

[vodika-vibes]

Hey Vod’ika, congratulations on 650 followers!🥳 You’re such a talented and creative writer, and I really enjoy reading your fics!

For your follower event, could I request a Mereel x fem reader in a Mermaid AU? With either Mereel or the reader being a merperson?

Please and thank you🥰

Lucky

Summary: You’ve always been a lucky person, good things just happen to you. Even when things go wrong for you, it almost always twists into working out in your favor. You’re still not sure whether stumbling on an injured merman is good luck or bad, but in the end it doesn’t matter. After all, you’re not about to abandon him.

Pairing: Mereel Skirata x F!Reader

Word Count: 1711

Prompt: Mermaid AU - set in the same setting as my most recent Tup and Jesse fics, so there's also some soulmate AU added in there

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @kimiheartblade

A/N: Thank you for your request! I had a lot of fun with this one, but I also love writing the Skirata boys, and Mereel is one of my favorites.

“You seem to be healing nicely,” You note as you carefully examine his tail fin, “Though it is going to scar.”

“Oh no, not a scar.” Mereel jokes as he lounges in the recovery pool located in your backyard, “I can’t imagine ever having one of those.”

You dip your fingers into the water of the recovery pool and flick the water at his face, “Honestly, you’re lucky your whole fin wasn’t ripped off. It’s no joking matter!” You plant your hand on your hip and point at him. 

“I’m lucky that you found me.” He corrects with a wide grin.

You squint at him suspiciously, but drop your hands, “How’s the pain today?”

He twitches his fin, and sucks in a sharp breath. 

You frown, “Still bad, then.”

“It’s better than it was.” Mereel replies, “I couldn’t move it at all right after you found me. Lucky for me that you’re a rehabilitator for marine animals.”

“I’d have brought you to a doctor if I thought they would help.” You grouse, as you hop into the recovery pool and walk around the shallower ledge to get a better look at his tail. 

“Yeah, I don’t really want to end up in an aquarium like Echo did.”

“I would never let that happen.” You pat the ledge, “I need your tail up here, Mereel.”

He narrows his dark eyes at you, “You’re going to give me another shot, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes in return, “You big baby. I can numb the injection point if you want.”

He pouts at you, childishly, “Yes please.”

“My normal patients don’t complain.”

“Your normal patients don’t have vocal chords.” Mereel points out as he watches you clamber out of the pool and walk over to where you keep the pain medicine and the numbing lotion.

“You’re a big baby is the problem.”

“Hey! You can’t talk to me like that. I’m an invalid.” He sniffs.

“Keep it up, and you will be.” You hop back into the recovery pool and sit on the edge, “Tail up here, please. I need a dry spot for the numbing lotion to work.”

“And you’re sure it’ll hurt.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“That answer does not instill confidence in me.” Mereel counters as he pulls his tail out of the water and drapes it over your lap.

“And yet you still trust me to help you.”

He shrugs, “I like to live dangerously.” Though when it looks like you’re about to dry his tail while your hands are bare, his tail twitches, “Gloves.”

You hold up your hands, “Okay, okay.” You pull the gloves to your wetsuit back over your hands, “See, gloves.”

Mereel sighs in relief and relaxes slightly while you grab the towel and start to dry off the spot around his fin. You know that it’s not comfortable for him, based on the way his tail twitches on your lap, and the sharp exhales.

You need to distract him from the pain. 

You search your mind for a conversation topic, before grabbing the easiest one with both hands, “So, why were you so close to shore anyway?” You’ve asked him this before, but he was in so much pain, and drugged up on painkillers, that he hadn’t been able to answer you.

Mereel doesn’t answer, and you glance at his face. He looks a little embarrassed, “No reason.”

“Oh, come on. After all this, you don’t think I deserve an answer? I’m feeding you, treating you, had to give you surgery-” You list.

“Okay, okay!” Mereel huffs out, “I was coming to the surface to sing.”

“...you lost me.” You admit as you squint at the dry spot on his tail, and then open the tube of lotion to apply it to his tail.

“How much do you know about the merpeople?” Mereel asks, wincing at the odd feeling of the lotion against his tail.

“Not a lot. I mean, the old lady at the grocery store tried to warn me about the ‘ocean claiming women’ but I thought it was just an old wives tale.” You reply.

“Right, well…she’s not wrong. The Ocean does claim women.” Mereel admits, “But it’s not a bad thing. Merpeople have soul mates, and we sing to find them.”

“Soul mates,” You murmur, “Hm…romantic. And kind of nonconny, but continue.”

“It is not!” Mereel pauses, “Wait, what does that mean?”

“Non-consensual.”

“We don’t do anything without our mates permission!” Mereel sputters.

“Of course not.” You wave your hand, “But, like, if you don’t have a choice-”

Mereel huffs and splashes you with water.

“Hey, hey!” You fold your arms over his tail, “Mind the medicine!”

“The binding is romantic and perfect.”

“Yeah? And what if your soulmate is evil?” 

“Impossible.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t be that naive.” 

“It is impossible! The magic exists to protect merpeople. Ergo, no evil soul mates.” Mereel sniffs. “Anyway, our mate can break the bond by refusing us.”

“So your mate can break the bond, but you can’t. Pretty sure that makes you fate’s prisoners.” You say dryly, as you check to make sure the lotion is dry, and then press a light finger against his tail, “You feel that?”

Mereel glances at your finger, “I can feel pressure, but nothing else.”

“Good.” You prepare the syringe, and Mereel shifts. “What now?”

“Why’s it so big?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the one you’re getting.”

“You have a terrible bedside manner.” Mereel notes.

“I’ve never needed one before,” You reply dryly, you glance at his face, and then sigh, “Look over there.” You say, pointing away from the needle.

Immediately, he does and you press the needle into his tail, he doesn’t even twitch. “There’s a whole ritual to turn our human soulmate into a mer so we can be together.” Mereel says, “Singing to find them is just the first part.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“It’s magic.” Mereel counters, “It’s not supposed to be easy.” He pauses, and laughs, “You know, if you touched my tail without wearing gloves the magic would kick in and you’d drown even on dry land.”

You pause from where you’re recapping the needle, and shoot him an odd look that he doesn’t see, “When?”

“Sorry?”

“When is that supposed to happen, because you’ve been here for weeks, and I’m still not drowned.”

Mereel turns and blinks at you, “You touched my tail!?” He sounds affronted.

“Would you have preferred that I left you to bleed to death on the beach?” 

“Of course not!”

“Look,” You lower his tail back into the water, “You said that the magic is all about protecting your people, right?” He nods, “So maybe the magic can detect, I dunno, intention or something. My intention was to save you, not…mate with you so nothing happened.”

“...normally people freak out about magic.”

“I’ve had a merman living in my recovery pool for close to three weeks now.” You reply, “Anyway, if you want to sing, or whatever, feel free.” You climb out of the water and start gathering your trash.

You can feel Mereel’s eyes on you, and you know that if you were to turn and look at him, he’d have a wide grin on his face. He’s an annoyingly chipper man, especially for someone who nearly lost a fin.

In fairness to you, you don’t really hear it, at first. The sound is so low, so quiet, that you weren’t able to hear it over the noise of the filters as well as the fridge. 

And then it gets louder and louder.

And it’s like electricity down your spine, and a tug at your heart.

You drop your trash into the trash can and turn to look at Mereel, who’s still singing with a wide, shit eating grin on his handsome face. The tug gets stronger, but your legs seem locked into place.

“You have got to be kidding me!” You blurt.

Mereel stops singing as he bursts into laughter. Slowly he swims across the pool and sits on the ledge closest to you, his wide grin growing wider, “Looks like we’re both fate’s prisoners.”

You point at him, “You! You knew!” It’s a question and an accusation.

“I had a pretty good idea.” He agrees.

“Why didn’t you tell me!?”

“Because this was definitely more fun.”

You cross your arms, “See if I ever give you emergency surgery ever again.”

Mereel leans over the side of the pool, and you can move again, scrambling over to him with your hands out.

“Stop!” You yelp, “You’re going to hurt yourself!” You scramble up the outside ledge and press your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back into the pool.

Then Mereel’s hands are on your cheeks, and he leans in to press his lips against yours. You falter, your hands falling from his shoulders to lightly wrap around his wrists, though you aren’t trying to pull him closer or push him away.

Kissing him feels like you’ve found a puzzle piece that’s been missing your whole life. It’s like coming home after being gone for years. It’s like being whole for the first time in your life.

And if you were any less professional than you are, you would have kept kissing him, and allowed yourself to lose yourself in his lips and hands.

But you are a professional, and he’s hurt.

So you break the kiss and back away. He watches you, a small grin on his lips, and you release a soft laugh, before you reach out and lightly press a finger against the tip of his nose, “You, sir, are supposed to be resting.”

“Just one more kiss?” He asks, “Just one more, and then I’ll rest.”

Your finger drops to  his lips, “The pain medicine is going to kick in any moment now, so no. No more kisses.” 

Mereel accepts your answer, as you thought he would. But he also takes your wrist and presses a kiss to the palm of your hand, his gaze locked with yours.

A quiet sigh falls from your lips. Well, it seems like you’ve gotten your answer on whether or not finding Mereel was lucky or not. You imagine that there aren’t many mermates who can claim that their mate came to them.

[vodika-vibes]

No Dogma? 🥺

Uhmmm let me try let me try...

How about... School AU! During your art class he has some difficulties because the exercise tests your creativity and he feels too uncomfortable without having strict rules. But his charming deskmate will help him to relax, right?

Inspiration

Summary: When your boyfriend, Dogma, has a hard time with an art project you offer him some inspiration.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Dogma x F!Reader

Word Count: 1515

Warnings: Smut, cockwarming

Prompt: College AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So, you didn't explicitly ask for smut, but you also didn't say that you didn't want smut, so this is what I decided to write. I hope you like it!

“Why are you glaring at the assignment, Dogma?” You ask as you lean over to the table to get a better look at your friend’s face.

He glances at you, a slightly wry smile crossing his face, “I’m not so good at using my imagination. And I’m not creative.”

“That’s not true.” You defend, “I mean, just look at your tattoo. That’s creative.”

“It’s not quite the same thing, though.” Dogma sighs and drops the paper to focus his attention on you, “What’s your project going to be?”

“Mm…I haven’t decided yet. Maybe I’ll go to the park and press some flowers and design my project around them.” You shrug, “I’ll figure something out.”

“You’re so creative.”

“Well, the world needs all types, right?” You grin at him, “You have any more classes today?”

“Nope, I’m free until Friday. You?”

“I’m done until Monday,” You reply cheerfully as you slide over to him, and slip off your chair to sit on his lap, “Wanna come over?” You ask as you trail your fingers down his chest.

“That depends,” He catches your hand and brings your fingers to his lips, “What did you have in mind?” Dogma presses feather-light kisses against the tips of your fingers, his gaze locked with yours.

“Well, I was thinking I could paint you,” You lean in lightly in bump your forehead against his.

“Mm, you need another nude model, cyare?”

You laugh softly, “Well, I wouldn’t say no to that, but it’s not quite what I had in mind.”

He flashes you a curious look, “Oh?”

“Come home with me and you’ll see.”

“Tempting,” He releases your hand to press his hand against the back of your neck and tugs you in for a quick kiss, “Very, very tempting.”

“Tempting enough to follow me home?” You ask against his lips.

“Definitely.”

You kiss him quickly and move to hop off his lap, only for him to wrap his arms tightly around you and tug you back onto his lap, a laugh falls from your lips, “Dogma!”

He flashes you the smallest of smiles, and lightly rubs his cheek against yours, before he releases you, and allows you to stand. You wait until he’s on his feet as well, and then you take his hand and tug him out of the classroom.

Unlike Dogma, you don’t live on campus.

Also unlike Dogma, you don’t have a roommate, which is a good thing since every inch of space of your studio is covered with dried paint, paintings, or other art supplies.

The only exceptions are your kitchen area, which is spotless, and your bed.

“Why is there blue paint on your ceiling?” Dogma asks once you’ve let him in your home and locked the door behind you.

“I was trying something new.”

“Did it work?”

“Nah. Too much work for too little payoff.” You reply as you toss your mail in the kitchen, and then bounce over to Dogma. You fling your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, “Love you~”

“Love you too,” his hands slide down to settle on your hips, and dip under the hem of your shirt, “Give me a couple of hours, and I can show you how much.”

You release a happy hum, “That sounds fun,” And it does, and if you didn’t already have plans, you would jump at the chance, “But I have something else in mind.”

“Oh?”

You grin at him and kiss him quickly, “You need to be inspired, and I intend to do that.” Swiftly you untangle yourself from him and you press your hand against his chest to walk him backward to your art table.

Dogma arches a brow and hops up on the edge of the table. He watches as you cross to the other side of the room and dig through your storage shelf, and his second eyebrow raises to join the first as you return with several bottles of paint.

“What’s this?”

You giggle and tug on the hem of his shirt, “You need to strip. Like I said, I’m going to paint you.”

Dogma picks up a bottle of blue paint and reads the label, “Literally, in this case?”

“Exactly.”

“And how is this meant to be inspiring, cyare?” He asks.

“You’ll see~” You kiss him one more time, and then turn to vanish into the bathroom. Eagerly, you strip your clothes off and change into a new pair of lingerie, it’s blue and lacy and both tend to drive Dogma insane. 

You emerge from the bathroom in time to see Dogma toss his boxers across the room, landing in the pile of the rest of the clothes that need to be washed. 

His gaze darts to you, and a slow smile crosses his face as he scans your scantily clad body, “Well now, is all that for me?”

“Always~” You cross the room over to him and he eagerly tugs you against his body, he’s already hard, and you can feel his erection pressed against your stomach. “Ooh, someone’s eager.” You tease as you shift so you’re able to trail your fingers down his cock.

“For you? Always.” Dogma tries to nudge you towards the bed, but you stop him with a press of your hand against his chest, “No bed today, cyare?”

You shake your head and push him back towards the table, “I don’t want paint on the sheets.”

Dogma allows you to direct him, for a moment, and then he reaches back and blindly grabs for the paint, “The paint is washable, beautiful.” He says with a grin as he presses the bottles into your arms, and then scoops you into his arms.

You laugh as he carries you over to the bed, settles you in the middle of the bed, and then climbs over you. “You’re going to have to wash my sheets,” You warn him as you reach up and cup his face.

“You mean, the thing I do after we have sex anyway?”

Your smile softens and you gently rub his cheek with your thumb, “What did I do to deserve someone as amazing as you?”

Dogma leans in and kisses you, “You tripped over your shoelaces and fell into my arms.” He kisses you again, “One might even say, that you literally fell for me.”

You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, “You know, I was kind of looking forward to riding you on that table.”

Dogma groans against your lips, “Later, angel.” He grinds his erection against you, and then he pauses and pulls back to look down at the dark blue panties you’re wearing, “Are these crotchless?”

You smile innocently.

Dogma’s hand drags down your body, taking his time to caress every inch of exposed skin, until his hand dips between your thighs. He eases your legs apart and allows his gaze to drop from your face.

He slides his fingers over the lace of your panties, and then ghosts his fingers over your pussy lips, “You’re already so wet for me.” He speaks in a low moan, and he shimmies down to the bottom of the bed, though you stop him with a light touch of your fingers against his cheek.

Dogma’s gaze locks with yours, and he slides back up your body to press his lips against yours in a loving kiss that quickly becomes more and more heated.

You press your fingers against his shoulder and he allows you to roll him so he’s on his back, though he, very eagerly, pulls you so you’re positioned right over his cock.

“You normally love when I go down on you,” He murmurs, as his hands wander your body.

“I do love it, but today I’m trying to inspire you.” Slowly, with his help, you slide down his cock until you’re settled flush against him.

He feels so good inside you, good enough that you would stay like this forever if you could. 

“How are you going to do that?” He asks as his hands slide up your back and he unfastens your bra and slides it down your arms. 

You drop your bra off the side of the bed, and smile at him adoringly, “Well,” You murmur, “I thought that we’d stay just like this,” You lean down and kiss him, “While I paint you. At least until you lose your patience.”

“I’m a pretty patient guy, beautiful,” Dogma warns.

“Well then, you’ll have plenty of time for inspiration to strike you, won’t you?” You tease as you shift and give you both just a little friction, pulling a deep groan from his throat.

He grins at you, “I hope you don’t think I’m going to make this easy on you,”

“I would be disappointed if you did.”

He pulls you in for one more deep, lingering kiss, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” You mumble against his lips.

In the end, Dogma paints a stunning picture of a merfolk couple. If the merpeople in the painting were based on you and him, well that’s no one’s business but his.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello! Congratulations on another follow event!! That is so awesome!!🎉🎉

I was looking at the list of AUs that you write out, and was wondering if you could write a Fairytale AU with Wrecker please? And the ball could be a masquerade which would add onto the not knowing who the slipper belongs to mystery! This would also be with a gender neutral reader please!

Masquerade

Summary: You’ve been pushing off your marriage for as long as you can. But your uncle has finally gotten fed up with your procrastination. He holds a massive ball, in the hopes that you might find a partner. You don’t have any control over the party…but you can demand that it’s a masquerade.

Pairing: Pre Wrecker x F!Reader

Word Count: 2648

Prompt: Cinderella AU

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Alright! I wasn't sure, for a long time, as to how to write this, but I think I just needed to write something that wasn't an AU to get something out that I liked. I hope you like it!

The room is filled with people clad in stunning gowns, intricate suits, and glittering masks in every shade of color known to man. Flowers have been picked from the gardens, woven together, and wrapped around the pillars around the dance floor filling the room with a soft floral scent that you would normally enjoy.

But, from where you’re standing near the refreshment table, nursing a fruity drink that’s so sweet that a single sip made you nauseous, you can’t help but think that the people here look like glittering bugs.

And all of them, every single one, are here on the off chance that they will impress you enough for you to marry them.

Disgusting.

You set your glass back on the table, smooth the skirt of your leaf green dress, and absently ensure that your mask (designed to look like different flowers and vines) is still attached to your face, and then you turn to the crowd.

No one will recognize you, that was the whole point of the masquerade, maybe you’ll find someone interesting enough to talk to. You’re not going to hold your breath though, in your experience, nobility is incredibly vapid and shallow.

Honestly, you’d have a more interesting conversation with the orchids in the garden.

Still, if you don’t even try, you’re uncle will throw the mother of all fits, and then choose a partner for you, and you’d sooner throw yourself into a river than allow that to happen.

So you plaster a fake smile on your face and start weaving through the crowd.

A few people stop your wandering so they can talk to you, though when the conversation turns to you, well not you, but to the crowned princess (who is you, but they don’t know that), you excuse yourself. Especially when they start insulting you.

You really don’t need to hear how people think that you’re lazy or entitled or how ‘when I’m chosen I’ll put her in her place’. 

Yeah, not going to happen. Ever.

Eventually, you find yourself sitting on the balcony overlooking the gardens. It’s a nice evening, not so hot that it’s sticky and miserable outside, but not so cold that you need a shawl to stay warm. You can still hear the music from outside, but no one else is outside with you.

Of course not. They expect the Princess to be inside.

You tilt your head back so you’re able to watch the stars. You trace constellations with your eyes, your gaze darting from one to the next, the myriad of stories racing through your mind as you find each constellation.

You’re pulled from your thoughts at the sound of footsteps on the balcony, and you lower your head to see who’s joined you outside.

A man.

Clad in a white suit and wearing a mask that almost looks like it was crafted out of crystal.

He looks surprised to see you, “Apologies,” He says with a sketched bow, “I thought that I’d be alone out here.”

You tilt your head, “The balcony is large enough that we can be alone together.”

He chuckles, a low noise that makes you feel pleasantly warm, and then he sinks onto one of the other benches. You watch him, out of the corner of your eye, as he removes one of his shoes and massages his feet.

“Do your shoes not fit?” You ask, unable to stop yourself.

“They’re new,” He explains, “My brothers and I got our invitations the day before yesterday.”

You blink at him, startled. That implies that he’s a commoner and that his family won the raffle. “Well, congratulations then. I understand that the raffle was very popular.”

He pauses and glances at you, and then a smile crosses his face, “Thanks. It was actually my older brother who put in the ticket, on behalf of our younger sister. She couldn’t come, she’s too young. But she liked seeing us all dressed up.”

“I bet she did. In my experience, all little girls like dress-up parties.”

He grins at you, “My brother would ask you to cite your sources.”

Your head tilts back as you laugh, genuinely amused, “Oh, very well. My sources are that I was a little girl once.” You grin at him, “I used to sit on my parents' bed when I was little and watch them get ready for parties, it was like magic to me.” You pause, “Of course, then I grew up and I realized how much I hated dressing up myself.”

“Well, you might hate it, but I happen to think that you look amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like a forest spirit or something.”

You’re glad that you’re wearing a mask, suddenly, so he’s not able to see the flustered flush on your face. “Well, thank you.” You reply as you lightly touch the flower tucked behind your ear, “That was the inspiration.”

“I can tell.” He pauses, “You know, I saw a forest spirit once. I was just a kid, and my siblings swear that I imagined the whole thing, but I know what I saw.”

“You’re lucky they didn’t kidnap you,” You reply.

“Don’t I know it,” He replies with a laugh, “But after that day I always felt more at home in the forests than anywhere else. I like to think that I got a forest spirit’s blessing that day.”

“Maybe you did. They do as they like, after all.” You fall silent for a moment, though you keep glancing at him, “I’m sorry,” You finally burst, “I have to ask, is your mask made of crystal?”

He looks surprised for a moment, but then he grins, “Sure is. The mask was sold with the suit. Even the shoes are meant to look like crystal.”

You lean over slightly to look at his shoes, “Well, no wonder they’re so uncomfortable,” You marvel, “How did they manage that, I wonder?”

“No idea, but the salesman was thrilled to shove both of them on me for cheap. They’re pretty comfortable, I keep forgetting that I’m wearing a mask at all.”

“Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it? The whole point of today is the masquerade.”

“I thought the whole point was for the Princess to find a partner,” The man jokes.

You tilt your head, “Is that why you’re here? To marry the Princess?”

“I’m sure the princess wouldn’t be interested in someone like me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, I’m kind of big. And a little rough around the edges. I don’t know the princess, only ever seen her on the holo, but she’s always seemed so dignified and put together. And, like, serene I guess.”

“Sounds like you admire her,” You murmur.

“I do admire her. After the King died and the Queen retreated from the public eye, people expected her to quail under the attention suddenly focused on her, but she didn’t. She stood firm and took all of the scrutiny. She was just a kid, it was…impressive.”

A small smile pulls on your lips, “You’re one of the few people here who have something nice to say about the princess.”

“Yeah, well…” He rubs the back of his neck, “I might have crushed on her, bad, when I was a kid.”

Your smile widens, “That’s cute.”

His face flushes, at least, the part you can see under the mask, “She looked like she could use a friend and a protector, and I figured I could be both. But I grew out of it.”

He glances at you, and his flush deepens at the look of amusement on your face, “A-anyway, isn’t that why you’re here? To marry the Princess?”

“Hm? Oh.” You lean back on the bench, “No, I’m here because my Uncle insisted. If I had my way, I wouldn’t be here at all, alas—”

“Do you not like the princess?”

“Hm…more like I don’t like the idea of marrying someone I don’t know.” You reply.

“I suppose that makes sense.” He folds his arms, “Do you think the Princess is happy for all of this?” He tilts his head back towards the ballroom.

You hum thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t be, in her shoes.” You absently smooth your skirt again, and then you stand, “Would you like to dance?”

“What? Here?”

You shrug, “Why not? The music is loud enough, and we don’t have to worry about people bumping into us.”

He stares at you a moment longer, and then he smiles and stands, “Alright. I’d love to dance.” He stands and offers you his hand, and you eagerly place your hand into his, “I should warn you, I’ve never danced before.”

“That’s alright, I’m sure I’ve had enough lessons to make up for it.” You joke as he, hesitantly, places his hand on your waist. You beam up at him, “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

The pair of you dance for hours, or so it seems. With you teaching him how to move and where to place his hands, and having genial conversation when you take breaks.

You quickly realize that you like him.

Genuinely like him.

You still don’t like the idea of marrying someone you don’t know, but if it’s him then maybe it won’t be so bad.

And then the party ends, and he’s gone and you never got his name. And all that’s left of his presence is the lingering warmth in your hand from where his hand had been wrapped around yours, and the crystalline mask that you found near a side exit half an hour after he left.

Thoughtfully, you bring the mask to your bedroom and set it on your dresser as you change out of your costume, your mind racing.

There aren’t many tailors who make masks, so tracking who made his mask will be easy enough. And, hopefully, the tailor will remember who bought the mask.

You hope so.

You finish donning your sleepwear and lightly trail a finger across the crystal of the mask. A smile crosses your face. Yes. He’s your choice. And if your uncle doesn’t like it…well, you’re over 18 and no longer need a regent. If he doesn’t like it, then he can pound sand.

It’s been three weeks since the masquerade, and Wrecker is still kicking himself for losing his mask. He knows that he must have dropped it at the palace, but it’s not like he can just show up and ask if he can look for it.

It’s a shame since Omega wanted to collect the masks.

Oh well, that’s life he supposes.

He runs his hand over his head as he heads downstairs, he lightly ruffles Omega’s hair, pulling a disgruntled noise from her, and then wanders into the kitchen where Echo and Fives are cooking breakfast.

Or, well, Fives is cooking breakfast and Echo is making coffee.

“Smells good,” Wrecker mumbles.

“It's better than good, the eggs are fresh and Crosshair made the bread this morning.” Fives replies.

“Crosshair did?”

“He’s working through some anger issues,” Echo pipes up, “We have lots of dough.”

“Oh. Well…good.”

“Morning,” Tech says as he walks into the room, clearly having been awake for hours now, “Have you heard the news?”

“No,”

“Nope.”

“I just woke up.”

Echo, Fives, and Wrecker speak in unison, causing Tech to blink at them. “Ah. Well, the Crowned Regent has been forcibly removed from the Throne. And the Crowned Princess was Coronated late last night. So she is Queen now.”

“Shouldn’t there have been a celebration?” Echo asks.

“I am sure that there are reasons—” Tech starts, only to pause as the doorbell rings.

“I got it!” Omega shouts, and then she scrapes her chair against the floor and they listen to her run to the front door, “Yes? Can we help yo—” Omega stops midsentence, and then she runs to the kitchen door, “Um.”

“What’s wrong, Meg?” Fives asks.

“The Queen is at the door. With her entourage.”

No one moves for a moment, and then they all start moving at the same time, scrambling into the living room with a frantic energy. The new Queen is standing in the foyer, thoughtfully looking at a picture of the group of brothers.

“Your Majesty,” Tech blurts, bowing deeply, “You honor us with your presence.”

She pauses and turns to look at them, a small smile on her face, and Wrecker is suddenly struck with the realization that he knows that smile. He spent hours with the woman who had the same smile.

“Please,” The Queen faces them properly, “There’s no need for that. I apologize for arriving so early.”

Wrecker stares at the Queen, his jaw slightly dropped. If the smile wasn’t proof enough, the voice was. She’s the person he spent the evening dancing with.

He confessed about his crush on the princess to the princess. Wrecker groans and presses his hand over his face, “You couldn’t have told me who you were?”

She laughs, “Well, that would have ruined the masquerade aspect, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I was talking about you. To your face.”

“At least it was all kind things, most everyone else was mean.” She says reassuringly.

Wrecker drops his hand away from his face, “Can I ask why you’re here?”

She releases a little hum and pulls something out of her bag, and Wrecker realizes that it’s his mask, “You left this behind. I’m glad you did, honestly, it would have been hard to find you without it.” She offers him the mask, and Wrecker takes it.

“Thank you, I was worried I’d never see it again.”

She beams at him, “Your name is Wrecker, yes? The Tailor told me.”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

Her smile widens, “I am not looking for a spouse, Wrecker. The idea of marriage makes me want to run screaming for the hills, however, my uncle filled the palace with people who support him, and I find myself in need of skilled bodyguards.”

“...are you offering us a job?” Fives asks.

“If you’re agreeable to the idea.” She replies, “In the last week there have been no less than three assassination attempts.”

“We have a lot of brothers,” Hunter says from the back door, “I’m sure we can make things safe for you.”

“You have my gratitude.” She turns to the man standing behind her, “Lesian, if you would?”

“Of course, your Majesty.” The man bows, and then pulls some paper from a bag he’s carrying, “I have some paperwork that you all should look over.”

Wrecker watches as his brothers follow the older man out of the living room, and then flickers his gaze back to the Queen. Her attention is focused back on the pictures on the walls, and he can’t help but think that she looks very lonely.

“Those were taken at the beach three years ago, I think.” Wrecker explains, “Hunter had just gotten custody of Omega, she was so small at the time.”

“I’ve never been.”

“To the beach?”

“Yeah. Father always promised to bring me one day, but after he died it just never happened.”

“I’ll bring you.”

She laughs, “Will you now?”

“Absolutely.” Wrecker folds his arms, “I know you said you’re not looking for a husband, but how about a friend?”

She turns to look at him, surprise clear on her face, and then she smiles at him, soft and warm, “I’ve never had a friend before.”

“That’s alright, I can teach you how it’s done.” Wrecker grins, “And if friendship turns into something more, well…that’s okay too, right?”

At that, she laughs. “So, that little crush on me-?”

“Didn’t fade as much as I thought.” He shrugs, “Luckily, I’m a patient man. Now, I have paperwork I need to fill out. Would you like to have breakfast with us?”

A blinding smile crosses her face, and Wrecker realizes that he’s in love with her, “It would be my honor, Wrecker.”

[vodika-vibes]

Hello Vod'ika, congrats for your followers!!

If possible (in advance sorry for my English) I wanted to ask you a Crosshair x Jedi!Reader (angst with happy ending from Cross view?) in a soulmate au (you can't hurt your soulmate kind of au) where chipped!Crosshair supposelly killed reader (then much much later he founds her again, maybe fallen-scarred or something but not heartshoted dead) (they where crushing each other but tightliped/proud/nothing officially stated)

Noble Maiden Fair

Summary: She was his. And He was hers. They were both just too proud to admit it, even to each other. When the order came out, Crosshair shot her. A blaster blot between her eyes. She fell. She died. Crosshair handled the guilt by staying on the move, by not thinking about it, about her. And then he murders an Imperial Officer and his only option is to run, not to his brothers, who abandoned him, but somewhere else.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x Reader

Word Count: 1849

Prompt: Soulmate AU - Soulmates can't hurt each other

Warnings: Some angst

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thanks! And thank you for your request! I've been bouncing between ideas on this one, and I finally had one that I liked, so I hope you like it too!

“Welcome!” Crosshair frowns at the large Trandoshan man standing just off the landing bay, “It’s been quite some time since we’ve gotten a visitor! Are you the person bringing the seed delivery?”

“Aa, that’s me,” Crosshair replies as he straightens from where he’s checking that his cargo is still in one piece. Honestly, the demotion from soldier to delivery boy annoys him to no end, but it’s better than the alternative. “You’d be the mayor then?”

“Oh, no. Not me.” The Trandoshan says with a laugh, “We’re a bit too small of a community for someone like that. I’m Grrog.”

“I…see.” He doesn’t, not really. But NatBorns have always been weird, “Anyway, where do you want the stuff?”

Grrog gestures to a flat cart near the door, “We’re going to have to make a couple of trips! I hope you’re not on a time crunch.”

Crosshair sighs, “You don’t have any droids?”

“Oh no! Awful things, droids.”

“Of course.” He rips off his work gloves and throws them inside the ship, “I guess we’d better get to work then.”

The Trandoshan looks thrilled and almost bounces over one of the massive pallets of seeds. “Look at it all! Ooh, the farmers will be thrilled!”

“I don’t just have crop seeds. There are also some seedlings for fruit trees. They’re still inside since they’re a bit more delicate.” Crosshair replies as he walks over to the cart and moves it closer to the pallet.

“Perfect! There’s always room for more seedlings!”

“You really are all about this life, aren’t you?” He asks. 

“Oh, yeah. Most of my people are hunters, but, well,” Grrog gestures to himself, and his wide girth, “I’m not made for hunting.” He jokes, “Fruits and Veggies don’t run away at least.”

“Well, there is that.”

“We have a population of a couple hundred people, from all walks of life. We don’t get many new people, though.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. People don’t want to be farmers, y’know.” Grrog hoists a couple of bags over to the cart, and then straightens with a groan, “The AgriCorps used to run everything here, but they were wiped out to the last.”

“That right?”

“They were Jedi, you know.” He shakes his head, “Could work miracles with dying planets. Such a shame.”

Crosshair doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. 

But, for half a second, he sees her. He sees her smile and the way her eyes crinkle when she’s happy. He hears her laugh; loud and bright and unashamed. 

His jaw clenches, and he roughly shoves the memory of her away. He doesn’t want to remember her…or the look of confused disbelief when he shot her. Or the way his name fell from her lips as she fell into the ravine.

Still, even though he doesn’t want to remember, it doesn’t make the ache in his chest go away. Or the guilt that threatens to strangle him. 

“You alright?”

Crosshair is ripped from his guilt at the concern in Grrog’s voice, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He nods, “Sometimes when I think about the Jedi, the grief threatens to overwhelm me too.” He confides, “You’re not alone there, friend.”

“I’m fine.” Crosshair repeats, “Where am I taking this cart?”

Grrog gazes at him thoughtfully, “It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that it’s okay to not be okay, friend.”

Crosshair sighs, “You are incredibly nosy.”

“My wife says that it’s my best feature.”

“I don’t like talking about it. Where am I bringing the cart?” Crosshair bites out.

“Alright, alright. There’s a general store. It’s called General Store.” Grrog says, “The employees there know what to do when you deliver it.”

Crosshair stares at him blankly.

“Ah, right! You’ll go through the spaceport, follow the road until you reach the fountain, and then turn left. The General Store is the first shop on the right. If you see the greenhouses, you’ve gone too far.”

“Alright.” Crosshair pushes the cart through the spaceport, easily side-stepping people. Not that there are many people for him to side-step. Honestly, he’s surprised that this place is big enough to have a spaceport. 

But, then again, they probably sell the excess fruit and vegetables to other planets. 

He pushes the carts through the open doors and stops.

The planet is very green. He should have expected it, it is a farming planet after all. But, for some reason, he wasn’t expecting it to be this green.

For a moment, time slips, and he can hear his kitten’s voice.

“I think, after the war, I’d like to retire.” His kitten says as she absently braids a strand of her hair, her voice soft and thoughtful, little more than a murmur to not wake his brothers.

“Retire?” Crosshair asks, his voice just as quiet, “And what does a Jedi do when they retire?”

She laughs, dropping her braid and resting her chin on the palm of her hand, her eyes glitter with an emotion that Crosshair doesn’t dare name, because naming it would mean that he has to acknowledge it.

“Maybe I’ll become a farmer, move someplace green and alive.”

“You’ll be bored in a week.”

“I think we deserve a little boredom, don’t you?” Her smile is warm and soft, and Crosshair thinks, for a moment, that he would burn the galaxy if it meant that she’d never stop looking at him like that.

With great difficulty, he pushes the memory away.

As much as he’d give anything to go back to that night, with her smiling at him like he hung the stars in the sky for her and her alone. He can’t. 

His kitten is dead.

He killed her.

And the Galaxy is a much darker, and lonelier, place for her absence. 

Crosshair heaves out a sigh and grabs the cart again. He’s not going to stay here. He can’t stay here. All he has to do is deliver the seeds and seedlings, and then he can go somewhere else.

Maybe he’ll move to a desert planet. No green at all.

Not that it’ll help. After all, it won’t change anything. 

He still killed his soulmate.

There’s no coming back from that.

Several hours later, all of the seeds and seedlings are off of his ship, and Crosshair is filling out the last of the paperwork with Grrog. Not to mention, adding some additional fees since he had to unload the ship on his own.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? This place is a lot more welcoming than the rest of the Galaxy.” Grrog offers with a grin.

“I’m sure.”

“You might like farming.”

“I can just about promise you that I won’t.” Crosshair fills the last bit of information on the datapad and then hands it to Grrog, “This looks right?”

“Hm…yep. All of the information is here.” Grrog replies as he scrolls down the information, “Though some of the counts are off, I think. Let me get a count.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes and leans back in the chair, “As you like.”

There’s the sound of a bell behind him as the door to the General Store opens. Grrog beams at the person who just entered, “There you are! We go the seedling shipment in!”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

A voice, soft and female, and so achingly familiar that Crosshair drops the toothpick he’s about to put in his mouth. His head snaps around and he stares, stunned, at the woman standing in the door.

It’s her.

Her hair is longer, braided over her shoulder, and she’s wearing more casual clothes than he’s ever seen her wearing before. 

But it’s still her, his Kitten.

She turns her head slightly and catches sight of him. Her eyes widen, likely just as surprised as he is. Though she doesn’t look afraid, she mostly just looks confused to see him there.

With seeds.

Which, okay, that’s valid.

Grrog vanishes into the back of the shop, and she hesitates, before she turns and walks over to him. 

“Crosshair,” Her voice is soft, and her eyes scan his face. “This is new,” Her fingers, still slightly calloused from years of lightsaber use, brush against the scar on his temple.

He stands and he lightly grips her chin to tilt her head back, “I shot you.” He breathes out.

She meets his gaze evenly, “Yes.”

“You don’t even have a scar.”

She hesitates for a moment, “I figured out what our soul bond is.” She finally says.

Crosshair is silent for a moment, “We can’t hurt each other.”

“No, we can’t.”

He releases her chin, “That’s convenient for us, I suppose.”

“I…” She pauses and then reaches up and presses both of her hands against his cheeks, “We didn’t talk about it. About us. And I know it’s because you were ashamed or—”

“Proud. Not ashamed.” Crosshair corrects, “I was too proud to admit what everyone else already knew. Proud and…a little afraid.”

“Why would you be afraid, Cross?”

“Because. You were so good, Kitten.” He brings his hands to cup her face, “You’re so good and I know you deserve better than me. You always have. Someone as good as you are.”

“I don’t think that’s your choice to make.” She says slowly, thoughtfully. “Not when I’ve been choosing you since the first time we met.”

Crosshair sighs, “You should hate me. I tried to kill you.”

“You didn’t, though.”

Slowly he leans in and bumps his forehead against hers. Crosshair can feel her breath against his face, warm and alive in a way that he never thought that he would feel again.

“I’m sorry.” He says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please—”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Her voice is soft, yet there’s steel underlying her words, “You did nothing wrong. You and your brothers are as much victims of this war as we were.”

“They made us as weapons,” Crosshair says, his voice thick with grief that he’s never had the chance to put into words, “They made us to be weapons against the Jedi.”

“That’s not your fault.” She whispers, “It’s not your fault, and I can’t think of a single Jedi who would blame you for it. Not when they learned the truth.”

Crosshair shudders, and his forehead falls to her shoulder. 

Gentle arms slide around him and brush through his hair. “Come home with me, Crosshair.” Her offer is soft and warm and so, very, tempting. 

Nothing would make him happier than following her home and making her home. But he can’t put her in danger. He can’t.

“The Empire—”

“—will hunt me whether you’re here or not.” She interrupts, “Don’t leave me again, Crosshair. Please?”

Crosshair melts on the spot, “You don’t play fair, Kitten.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t reply. There’s nothing for him to say. So, instead, he pulls her into a kiss. A kiss that’s been a long time coming. It feels like a missing piece of his soul snaps into place, and his arms slide protectively around her.

He’s never going to let her go again. Ever.

[vodika-vibes]

Hey congrats on 650+ followers could I please request a romance regencycinderella type au, where Rex is a prince and has to marry a person of "high standing" but he ends up meeting and falling in love with the reader, who is the servant of the spoiled bratty princess he's supposed to be marrying.

Sorry if this is too much detail.

You Will Be Okay

Summary: You have been the handmaid of Princess Harmony for the majority of your life, your responsibilities include ensuring her clothes are neat, styling her hair, and helping her bathe. It’s only natural that you would join her when she travels to Prince Rex’s palace when it’s time to meet him. The last thing you expect is to catch the eye of the Prince himself.

Pairing: Captain Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 2452

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, but it's not shown

Prompt: Regency AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Once again, this took me a while to get down. And it feels slightly less Cinderella to me, but I hope you like it anyway! Thanks for your request!

It has been three weeks since Princess Harmony, the Princess you serve, arrived at Jaig Palace, home to her betrothed, Prince Rex. Which means, it has been three weeks since you arrived at Jaig Palace.

In the three weeks since you’ve been here, Princess Harmony has thrown several massive temper tantrums, has destroyed five dresses (two of which had been passed down from the Queen Mother), and has verbally abused the staff of Jaig Palace so severely that they refuse to serve her.

At this point, you would sell your right arm, left leg, and your little brother’s body for a break.

But, Princess Harmony seems to be in a good mood today.

A better mood than she’s been in since you left the Cin Palace that is her home. 

You put the final touches on her intricate up-do, pinning some peace lilies into her golden locks, before you step away and bow, “All done, your highness.”

Princess Harmony tilts her head from one side to the other, and then she nods once. “This is adequate. I like the way you have the peace lilies framing my face. Wherever did you manage to find Peace Lilies here?”

“Her Majesty sent some with your luggage, your highness.” you reply.

“Of course she did.” There’s something bitter in Princess Harmony’s voice.

“Is all well, your highness?”

“I’m fine.” She bites out as she waves her hand, “Tell me, Handmaid-” You cringe, in the nearly twenty years you’ve been serving her, she still hasn’t learned your name, “what is on my schedule for the day?”

You blink at the princess, and then turn to pick up the itinerary that had been delivered the night before, “It appears that you have a free day today, your highness. At least, until this evening, when you are scheduled to give a speech.”

“Oh, yes. That.” She stands suddenly and glides away from the vanity, “You are dismissed. I have no need for you today.”

“As you command, your highness.”

“Send in my double when you leave.”

You curtsey deeply, and sweep out of the room before she can change her mind.

Princess Harmony was given a rather large set of apartments when she arrived here three weeks ago. There’s her own room and private bathroom, and then there are two more rooms. A large room for the Princess’ body double, and then a much smaller room that you call your own.

Fiore, Princess Harmony’s double, is sitting in the sitting room with a book in her hand. She is nearly identical to the princess, though her eyes are several shades darker than the Princess’.

“Princess Harmony is asking to see you, Fiore.” You murmur as you walk over to the older woman, and adjust one of the peace lilies in her hair to make sure it’s identical to the Princess’ hair.

“Asking, or demanding?” Fiore asks.

Fiore is, technically, Princess Harmony’s older sister. The King had an affair, resulting in the birth of Fiore, and you know that the older woman resents her spoiled half-sister. She was not a willing body double, it’s something that Fiore has confided in you when she was assigned her position.

“Is it not the same thing?” You ask with a gentle curl of your lips.

Fiore scoffs and smoothly gets to her feet, “Then I had best see what her royal brattiness wants. You should take the day, though.” She adds with a fond smile in your direction, “You’ve been going non-stop since we arrived.”

Personally, you’re of the opinion that Fiore would be a better Queen than Harmony, but it’s not as if anyone cares about your opinion. You offer her a small smile, before you sweep out of the suite of rooms.

Your first free-day in weeks.

You allow your feet to lead you through the, now familiar, halls. Pausing every now and then to speak with some of the guards and other servants. They like you well enough, though you’d have to be blind to not see the pitying looks that they shoot you.

Your feet lead you to the gardens. As you understand it, the Gardens had been the late Queen’s project, and you can tell by looking at the beautiful flower beds, and massive trees, that it had been a labor of love. 

A small smile graces your lips as you walk through the gardens, pausing every now and then to admire some of the plants that you’ve never seen before.

Cin Palace is located far, far to the north. The only plants that grow naturally are coniferous trees, and small shrubs. And the greenhouses back home are dedicated to fruits and vegetables, not flowers.

You allow yourself to wander through the flowers, and vanish into the thicket of trees. The leaves are a wide array of colors, from deep purple, to rich green, to vibrant red. It’s like walking through a kaleidoscope.

You can’t help but think, if this is what it’s like living here, then moving wouldn’t be so bad. Even if it does mean that you’re stuck serving Princess Harmony for the rest of your life.

And then, suddenly, you realize that you’re not alone.

“Oh,” You stop mid-step and flush before curtseying deeply as you avert your eyes from the blonde prince standing in front of you, “Your Highness, my apologies.”

He looks just as surprised to see you as you are to see him, “Ah, there’s no need for that. Just Rex is fine.” He says awkwardly, stepping closer to you and lightly touching your elbow to bring you back to your feet. “You are…Princess Harmony’s handmaiden, aren’t you?”

You straighten and fold your hands, “I am, yes.”

A smile, small and warm, crosses his face and you feel warmth in your chest. He really is very handsome, you weren’t expecting him to be kind too, “I thought I recognized you from your arrival. Though, I haven’t seen you since-?”

“Princess Harmony prefers that I stay out of sight,” You reply honestly, “Plus…” You hesitate and then shake your head, “It’s not important.”

“Please. I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

You duck your head, “Princess Harmony has a…difficult…personality at times.” You finally say, very diplomatically, “The servants that were assigned to her suites have refused to serve her due to how she treated them. So I have been very busy since arriving.”

“I have heard rumors from my staff,” Rex admits, “I thought they were just rumors. Still, I am glad that you managed to come and see the gardens. What do you think?”

“They’re beautiful,” You reply with a bright smile, “I have never seen so many different flowers and plants.”

He answers your smile with one of his own, “Would you like a tour?”

“Truly? You’re not too busy?”

“Today is my free day,” Rex replies, “And I’m happy to show off my mother’s garden.” He moves to the side and motions for you to come stand next to him, “This way, the garden is much larger than people generally see.”

His hand settles, warm and comforting, on your lower back as you fall into step next to him. Rex leads you deeper into the garden, telling you stories of his mother, and of the various plants that she chose to fill her garden.

It’s the start of a, slightly surprising, friendship.

It has been three weeks since the day that  you first met Prince Rex, and has been six weeks since your arrival at Jaig Palace. And, in your opinion, things are going well.

Well. Wellish.

Princess Harmony’s mood plummeted, and no amount of her favorite snacks, books, or songs could bring her back into a more tolerable mood.

She’s since turned her foul temper on you, and on Fiore. 

The first time she struck you indicated a change in your relationship with your princess. And a change in the relationship between Fiore and Harmony.

Fiore refused to allow you to be alone with Harmony, regardless of how Harmony ranted and raved and threatened her. In truth, you’re grateful for the older woman, as her presence made it so that Harmony couldn’t strike you again, no matter how much she might want to.

It also means that you have a lot more free time than you did when you first arrived.

Of course, free time is relative, as you spend the majority of the time trying to prepare for the wedding between Princess Harmony and Prince Rex.

Though, at this point, you’re pretty sure that you’ve spent more time with the groom-to-be than Princess Harmony. In fact, you can’t remember them having a single conversation at all.

And you’re concerned.

Rex is a friend, at least, you think he is. And you’re not overly eager to leave him to Harmony’s wild outbursts. 

“May I ask a personal question?” You ask, late one evening as you watch the fireflies dance around you and Rex. Harmony’s nightly temper tantrum evolved into her throwing a vase at you and Fiore, and so you were encouraged to leave the suite for a couple of hours.

Which led you here, sitting on a blanket, deep in the garden, with Rex sitting across from you.

He’s dressed down, in a loose tunic with the laces untied at his neck, baring more of his chest to you than he’s ever done before, and his trousers are loose and stained with grass. 

He looks amazing. And you have to force yourself not to stare at him, it’s not your place. It’s a shame that your friendship with him has turned into you having a crush on him. 

Rex laughs, “You don’t have to ask permission, cyar’ika.” His grin is teasing, and you make a face at him. He still won’t tell you what that nickname means, though you suppose it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

“...do you want to get married?” You ask slowly, carefully.

He pauses from where he was peeling an orange, and he slowly sets it down on the blanket, “In truth? No. Not to Harmony at least. She’s…incredibly unlikeable.”

“Ah.” You absently smooth your skirt, “I suppose it doesn’t really matter what you want, though. Does it?”

Rex gazes at you for a long moment, “I have to get married. The law is very clear on this.” He pauses, “Of course, the law doesn’t specify who, exactly, I have to marry.”

“I don’t follow.”

“It doesn’t say that I have to marry a princess.” He clarifies, “Just that I have to be wed before I turn 25.”

“I see.” You murmur.

Rex doesn’t say anything for a long moment and then he sighs. You turn your gaze towards his face, and start when he shifts so that he’s sitting close enough that your knees are touching. He reaches out, and for a moment, you think he’s going to press his hands against your face, but he seems to hesitate before reaching down and taking your hands in his. 

“Rex?”

He smiles at you, “I didn’t want to ask, but it’s hard to not notice that you flinch away from Harmony. And it’s even harder to ignore how Fiore seems to hover over your shoulder like you’re her charge. Does Harmony hit you, cyar’ika?”

You nervously lick your lips, “It…only happened one time. And it was my fault, really. I should have known better than-”

“No.” Rex squeezes your hand and his voice is stern enough that your words die on your tongue, “There is no excuse for her hitting you. At all.”

You stare at him, stunned. “Well, yes. Of course.” You offer sheepishly, “But…I’m still her handmaiden and…and…” You trail off, and then squeeze your eyes shut, “You shouldn’t marry her.”

“And what happens then?” Rex asks, his voice gentle.

“We go home, back to Cin Palace.” You say, “And…and nothing changes.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then releases one of your hands. You start when his warm hand presses against your cheek, “If nothing changes for you, then that means you’ll be stuck with an abusive employer.”

“Fiore won’t let her hurt me.” You reply as you open your eyes again. Rex seems closer somehow.

“What if I had a different idea?” He offers, “A better offer. For you and Fiore.”

“I don’t-?”

“Marry me.”

Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn’t that. You blink at him, your jaw dropped, as your train of thought not only screeches to a halt, but also completely derails. “What.”

Not the most eloquent of ways to ask for clarification, but he doesn’t seem offended. In fact, he seems amused.

“Marry me. Become my Queen.”

“But…but I’m a servant-!”

“I don’t care.”

“You should definitely marry a princess-”

“I want to marry someone I love, and I love you.”

You gape at him, dumbly for a moment, “But. You. That’s…”

“Take your time,” Rex teases. He seems confident and relaxed, as though he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell on you. 

“You love me?” You ask, your voice tiny.

“Is that so surprising?”

“You hardly know me-”

“I know you’re allergic to grapes, I know you really like the color blue, but your favorite color is hunter green. I know you like dancing, though you’re too embarrassed to actually dance in front of people. I know you’ve always wanted a garden of your own, but have never been permitted one.” He leans in closer, and presses his forehead against yours, “I know you’re afraid of the dark, but you still enjoy watching the stars.”

“I never told you any of that.” You whisper.

“You didn’t have to,” He releases your hand and brings his hand up so that he’s properly cupping your face, “I know you, cyar’ika. I want to marry you. Become my Queen. And I’ll make sure you’ll never be unhappy again.”

“...but-”

“Fiore will be offered a position as your bodyguard if you agree.” Rex promises, “You’ll both be free from Harmony.” He strokes your cheek lightly, “And, even if you don’t want to marry me, you’ll both be offered positions on my staff. You will be free of her one way or another.”

You exhale slowly, “Okay.” You whisper.

He blinks at you, “Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll marry you.”

And then you squeak when his lips press against yours in a deep and passionate kiss. It takes you a moment, but you end up wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him back just as enthusiastically. 

You feel him grin into the kiss, and you can’t help but melt into him.

This might not be what you expected for your life, but you’re not going to complain. After all, this is much, much better.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello again >:3 this time it's Alpha-17 for the same face gods au :3 big grumpy, snarky wonderful Alpha~ <3 Honestly summoning him would very very much be a bad idea for the empire. I imagine he'd be just as brutal as Fox had been if any imps are in the room when he appears, maybe worse knowing him.

Maybe the reader is an escaped prisoner and the empire were gonna use her for the ritual and she accidentally spilled her blood completing their ritual? But if this seems too much like the Fox one I say dealer's choice. ( the dice rolled off my table.. twice. It was a sign... choosing between Alpha and Boba is apparently illegal)

I Give Hope To Man

Summary: You’ve been a political prisoner of the Empire since you were a small child. You can no longer remember the feel of grass against your feet or the feel of sunlight against your skin. You no longer remember your parents' faces or their voices. You no longer remember your brother's laughter. You know it’s only a matter of time before you’re executed like the rest of your family. But you will not go gently into that good night…and the Empire will soon learn that.

Pairing: Alpha-17 x F!Reader

Prompt: Mystic AU - same-faced gods AU

Word Count: 2363

Warnings: Mentions of political prisoners (the Empire sucks)

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Alright, so I'm not sure I'm happy with the ending, but I'm having a focusing issue today, so I think I'm overthinking it. Honestly, my typing is too loud, so I think I have a migraine forming.

You are intimately familiar with every single nook and cranny in your cell. You know that the pipes leak when it gets cold outside. You know that when it’s hot outside, the shower only runs in 10-minute intervals. You know that the cell door creaks loudly and that it doesn’t open as smoothly as it should.

You’ve been a prisoner here for the majority of your life.

Father was a politician who openly spoke out against Palpatine.

So, naturally, your whole family was arrested for treason.

To give the Empire some credit, you weren’t separated from your mother until you were ten, and you were allowed to get a basic education. Why they allowed such a thing is beyond you, after all, it’s not like you’re ever going to see the light of day again.

You’re not stupid, after all.

Father was executed when you were still a toddler. Mother was executed several months after your tenth birthday. And your older brother…well, he was executed several weeks after he turned 21.

You sigh as you do your morning stretches. You’ve recently turned 21, which means, at best, you have a couple of weeks left to live. Assuming that the Empire treats you like they treated your brother.

It’s almost funny, how afraid the Empire is of your family. It’d be funnier if your family wasn’t wiped out due to it.

I give hope to man, and I leave none for myself. 

Your family’s motto. Written under your family crest, tattooed on your mother’s collar, and engrained so deeply into your genetic code that even now you can’t help but make escape plans.

You, and your family, you’re symbols to the people who still resist the Empire. And you’re the last one standing. 

There’s a bang on the door, “Morning, Princess.” A drawled voice, one of the guards, calls as he slides the door open.

You roll your eyes and return to your morning stretches.

“Brought you breakfast,” The guard says as he steps into the cell properly and places a tray on the table, “Looks like…an omelet with peppers and onions, some toast, a couple of slices of bacon, and your morning tea.”

You pause and glance at the tray, before arching a brow, “Ah, so I’m to be executed this week then?” Your normal breakfasts generally consist of toast, runny eggs, and watery tea.

The guard inclines his head, once, “Later today, before lunch.”

“Lovely.”

The guard is quiet for a moment, “If you wanted to throw your support behind the Empire, Princess, this would be the time to tell someone.”

You laugh, “I would much rather be executed, thanks.”

He sighs, “I’m trying to save your life.”

“I’m not interested. You can go now. I’d like to eat my breakfast in peace.”

The guard sighs again and shakes his head, “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I am to inform you of how today is going to go.”

You slide into your seat and take a sip of your tea, rich and floral, just how you like it. “If you must.”

“In a couple of hours, you are going to be escorted to the ritual chamber on the other side of the island. Once you are there, you will be asked to bathe with a specific soap, and you will be brought to the chamber itself.”

“How festive.”

“You are to be the sacrifice for a summoning.”

“Of course I am.” You take a bite of your toast, “Curious question, I assume this is how the rest of my family was executed.”

“It is.”

“Has it ever worked?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

The Guard flushes an ugly share of red, making him look like a large, misshapen tomato, “It will work this time.”

“Of course it will.” You say with a small smile, “Just because it’s never worked before doesn’t mean it won’t work this time.”

He scowls at you, “The world will be a much better place once your entire family is wiped from the map.”

“I’m sure you think so.”

His eyes narrow at you, though you cheerfully ignore him, “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Mmkay.” You don’t even flinch as the cell door slams shut.

If you remember your lessons correctly, rituals are ridiculously easy to throw off. Say the wrong thing, move the wrong way, and the ritual won’t work. Whatever the Empire is trying to summon, you’re not going to let them use your death to get it.

You take another bite of your omelet. This is probably exactly what your family did before they were killed, planned on how to make sure that the ritual didn’t work the way that it was supposed to.

Not the greatest family tradition, you suppose, but it’s better than nothing.

Slowly, you continue eating, trying to come up with a workable plan to keep the Empire from winning. It’s not easy, there are far too many variables for you to actually come up with a good plan, but by the time the cell door opens again and the guards come to escort you to the ritual chamber, you have a plan.

Or, well, an idea of a plan.

The guards chain your hands behind your back and they walk you through the brightly lit halls. For the first time in years, the halls are completely silent. 

Silent enough that the guards are twitchy and anxious about it.

A small smirk lifts your lips when the other prisoners start singing, a dirge of hope and loss and a better tomorrow.

I give hope to men, and I keep none for myself.

The guards swarm the prison, shouting at the other prisoners, ordering them silent, but they might as well be trying to keep the sun from rising for all of the effect that they’re having. 

You’re shoved through a door at the end of the hall, and the door slams shut behind you and the guards, but the song seems to have been picked up by the building itself, as voices echo eerily through the empty halls.

“Keep walking.” The guard’s voice is shaking, and you shoot him a disgusted look before you head down the stairs. 

They unbind your hands as you come to the ritual chamber, and you’re directed to a small shower. A woman hands you a bar of soap, soap that smells very woodsy and clean, and you’re ordered to bathe with that bar of soap specifically, including your hair.

You strip and step under the hot water, after shooting the woman a baleful look. Bar soap is not good for hair, but since you’re supposed to die in here, you suppose it doesn’t matter in the long run.

Once you’re clean, you’re draped in a dark blue cloth, which has been fashioned into some kind of dress, and you’re guided to the middle of the room and instructed to sit on a stone table. One of the guards chains you to the table and then scurries to the edge of the room. 

You scan the room thoughtfully. Despite being so far underground, you’re warm, the thin cloth covering your body should do little to keep you warm, you should be shivering like the rest of the people in the room, but you’re not. Which is surprising, as you can see your breath.

The room is lit by blue flames, not offering much light but dousing the room in eerie shadows.

Water pours down the walls, not affecting the flames in the slightest, and if you had to guess the water is the cause for the low temperature. 

Across from you is another table. There are several whisky bottles, a full set of ancient armor, and a bowl filled with a flame that you can only call angry.

You hear your name, and you turn to look at the Government official. “You have been found guilty of treason,” He says, his voice clipped, “Have you anything to say in your defense?”

You turn your gaze away from the government officials, “I wasn’t aware toddlers could commit treason,” you say. It’s all you say. Slowly you drag your knuckles across the stone table. Once, twice, three times.

The table isn’t sharp, but it is rough. Rough enough that with only three passes of your knuckles across the top, the thin skin of your knuckles split open, spilling your blood on the table.

Adding your blood to the ritual.

You hear the Government official sigh, “Begin the ritual.”

There’s the sound of a fire being lit, and then the sound of rushing flames. You expect to feel the heat of the flames before you see them, so you’re surprised when nothing changes. 

Pale blue flames encircle the room, shielding you from the prying eyes of the people outside the circle. Then the flames curve towards you and the other table.

You pull your feet up as the flames go under your feet, and absently you flick some of your blood into the flame.

Much to your surprise, the flame stops moving and then flares brightly as the fire turns a much darker shade of blue. You end up having to close your eyes as the flames burn bright enough that it’s like staring into the sun.

The bright laugh fades after only a few moments, and you open your eyes, expecting to see the flames slowly filling the ritual circle.

Only, that’s not what you see.

The flames burn brightly around the outside of the circle, but standing across from you is a man.

A massive man, heavily scarred, who is pulling armor on. 

You’d swear that the armor was too small for him, only it seems to resize and recolor to fit him as he pulls it over the dark, skin-tight, material covering his body.

Finally, he turns his gaze onto you, his eyes are dark and piercing as he looks at you, at the material you’re wearing, and at the chain around your ankle, and he turns to focus on you fully.

“My name,” He says slowly, “is Alpha-17. I am the god of retribution.”

You exhale slowly, you should be afraid, a god of retribution is not a nice god, after all. But you’ve never felt safer in your life.

So, you introduce yourself. 

Alpha offers you his hand, and you take it, allowing him to help you to your feet. The chain around your ankle dissolves as if it was never there to begin with.

“I have been a political prisoner since I was a toddler,” You say to the much larger man, “My father, mother, and brother have already been killed.”

“Is that right?” Alpha kneels in front of you, and you don’t stop yourself from reaching out and tracing one of the scars on his face with a light finger.

“It is. My father was a politician who stood against the Empire. He called them out for cruelty, and for being power-hungry. And he died for it.”

“Was he right?”

“Yes.” You watch, curiously, as Alpha-17 closes his eyes while your fingers explore his face, “This entire prison is home to Palpatine’s political prisoners. Entire families who aren’t allowed to live because we believe in freedom.”

“You don’t feel angry.” Alpha notes.

Your smile isn’t nice, “They don’t get to have my anger. Or my fear. Or my hate.”

“You summoned me, little one.” Alpha rumbles, “So what do you want?”

“I want them to hurt. I want to carry on my family’s legacy. But I can’t do it alone.”

“And what is your family’s legacy?”

“I give hope to man, and keep none for myself.”

Alpha smiles and catches your hands to bring them to his lips. His gaze locks with yours, “I’m happy to support you in all your endeavors. You are my priestess after all.” He presses his lips against the pads of your fingers and then stands again.

Alpha lightly pushes you so that you’re crouched behind the table, and then steps away from you. You have so many questions, but based on the look on his face, the questions will have to wait.

You peek around the corner of the table and watch as the flames burst outward. You see the government official approach Alpha, and you watch, stunned as Alpha moves and shoves his arm through the man’s chest.

You watch as Alpha slaughters all of the people in the room with an ease that should frighten you, but doesn’t for some reason.

As the last body hits the floor, barely recognizable as a person, you stand and hurry over to him. “You killed them all.” You marvel.

“Is that a problem?” Alpha asks as he flicks blood off his hand.

“Not to me.”

“Good.” He gazes at you for a moment and then moves so he’s almost pressed against you, and he ducks his head so that his face is only an inch away from yours, “I’m going to take great pleasure in making you mine, ad’ika. But I suppose we’d better get you safe first.”

“Yours?” You ask, unable to help yourself.

“Mine.” He confirms, “Did no one teach you about your responsibilities as a priestess?”

“Uh, I’ve been a prisoner since I was a toddler, and my education was very targeted.” You counter wryly.

He chuckles, “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. It’ll come naturally. That’s part of the binding that happens with the summoning. I just have to complete it.” He wipes his hands on a cloth that he got from somewhere, “Now, how many guards upstairs?”

“A couple dozen. Maybe more.”

“Easy then.” He drops the cloth and lightly grips your chin before he leans in and presses his lips against yours. You sigh into the kiss, and his lips curl up into the smile. “I suppose I’d better teach you all about sex too. I’m looking forward to it.” He murmurs against your lips.

“Yeah, probably.” You agree.

Alpha pulls away and turns to the stairs, and it’s only then that you realize that you can still hear the song. “Well then,” He murmurs as he glances at you, “Give hope to man, indeed.”

[vodika-vibes]

Congratulations on your 650 followers Vodika! I bring you a request. May I please have a fairy tale AU with Jango Fett. Jango is the king of Mandalore and he hires you as his son's caretaker. As you spend more time with Boba and Jango the two of you fall in love with one another and even though you are just a commoner and Jango can have any woman he wants all Jango wants is to marry you and make you his queen.

Once again congratulations Vodika! I look forward to reading all of your requests once they are finished ❤️

Cin Vhetin

Summary: After losing your well-paying career as an in-home nanny due to a lie, you’re forced to move in with your older sister just to make ends meet. You’re about to give up on ever finding another job when your sister brings you an opportunity that you can’t turn down.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 2958

Prompt: Fairy Tale AU

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Alright, I've had this mostly written for days now, I just couldn't get the final section to come out right. But I'm finally happy with it! So I hope you like it!

“I’m home~”

You look up from where you’re putting the finishing touches on tonight's dinner as your sister waltzes into the kitchen, a broad grin on her face. “Welcome back,” You greet tiredly, “You’re in a good mood, Rayne.”

“Of course I am, I got to see my future husband-”

“You mean the one who doesn’t know you exist? That future husband?”

“Hush, stop raining on my parade.” She spins around the kitchen, as though she’s still a teenager and not a woman nearing forty. “Anyway, I saw my beloved. And we had a conversation.”

“Oh?”

“He asked me if I wanted two loaves of bread or if one would be enough for tonight.”

“Sis, that isn’t talking, that’s him doing his job.” You counter with a roll of your eyes, “But continue.”

“It’s a step up.” She huffs as she stops spinning and flings her arms around your shoulders in a tight hug, “But, much more importantly. I signed you up for an interview at the palace tomorrow.”

“You what?!” You spin and glare at her, “An interview for what?”

“Don’t freak out,” She says as she jabs her finger in your face, “I’m doing you a favor.”

“Rayne!”

She rolls her eyes, “As you know, King Jango now has an infant son, and he needs a skilled nanny for Prince Boba. And you, my darling baby sister, are a skilled nanny and governess.” 

“Yeah, aside from the fact that I was fired from my last job.”

“Okay, so you weren’t fired because of anything you did, first of all. Those people lied about you and ruined your reputation, and this is an excellent way to repair that.” Rayne says as she places her hands on her hips, “Also, I know you’re doing your best to get a job and everyone is denying you because of the rumors, but I really think that this is the way to go.”

“If I get denied because of this lie—”

“You won’t,” Rayne reassures. “Your skill speaks for itself. And the King is rumored to be a discerning man.” She places her hands on your shoulders, “Will you go?”

You sigh, “Yeah. Okay.”

She squeals and flings her arms around you, “Oh, you won’t regret this, I know it.” Rayne releases you and claps her hands in front of her face, “Now, your interview is at the end of the day tomorrow, do you have a proper outfit to wear? I know you prefer your tunics, leggings, and boots. But do you have any skirts?”

“You know I don’t.” You say with a sigh, “I have a nice tunic and leggings that I can wear tomorrow. It’ll be fine.” Rayne opens her mouth to say something, but you cut her off, “I know you’re worried, but my clothes will be fine.”

She sighs and folds her arms, “I know, I know. I just…you’ve been so unhappy since you lost your last job. I’ve been worried.”

You make a face, “Well, the rumors weren’t kind to me, Rayne.”

“No, they weren’t.” She takes your hands and squeezes them, “I’ll leave you to your cooking, alright? I need to tend to the garden and then get cleaned up. Call me when dinner is done?”

“I always do.”

Rayne smiles at you and turns to leave the room, and then she pauses and looks at you, “Vod’ika,” you start at the familiar word falling from her lips, “Our buir’e would be proud of the woman you’ve become. I know I am.”

Your face heats and you avert your gaze, “You think so?”

“I know so.” Rayne hurries over to you and presses a light kiss to your temple. “Now, I do have to tend to the garden. Are you good?”

You smile at her, “Yeah. I’m good.” You watch as she leaves the room and then turn your attention back to the meal you’re preparing. You are so lucky that your sister is such an amazing person.  You’re never going to be able to pay her back.

The next day, your sister walks you to the palace, where you join the veritable army of other women who have applied for the position. “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait?” Rayne asks as she tucks some hair out of your face, “I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure. You have better things to do than wait hours for me to finish my interview, Rayne. And I know you have some things you need to do.”

“Well, yes-”

“Don’t worry about me.” You reassure her, “I’ll be okay. I’ve done this before after all.”

Rayne sighs, “Alright. I’ll see you this evening then. I love you.”

“Love you too.” You watch as Rayne hurries into the crowd and you settle back to wait for your turn. You know it’ll be a long wait.

King of Mandalore, Jango Fett, leans back in his chair as the most recent interviewee is escorted from the room. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to stem the growing migraine.

“Well, this is going splendidly,” Miles notes dryly, “Half of those women have never seen a child, and the other half would be bad fits for living in the palace.”

Jango grunts, and then drops his hand, “You heard the woman who claims that children need a firm hand?”

“Oh yes,” Miles’ smile isn’t nice, “I made a note of that.”

“How many more?”

“Just the one,” Miles replies.

“And what do we know about her?”

“She’s quite the talented nanny,” He replies, “Has been caring for children since she was a child, used to Nanny for the Kryze clan.”

Jango lifts his head, “Used to?”

“There were some allegations of inappropriate behavior. Rumors and hearsay, mostly. Though, there are quite a few notes here, from a lot of people, indicating that those rumors and allegations are nothing more than lies.”

“Shocking, someone from the Kryze family lying.”

“Hm, if only we could power your kingdom with sarcasm-” Miles counters, just as sarcastically.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jango glances at the peacefully slumbering Boba, and then looks at Miles, “Well, we might as well get this over with. Call her in.”

Miles nods, once, and leaves the room.

He’s gone for almost five minutes, though Jango knows that’s because Miles is doing his pre-screening. Something that he started after the second woman let slip that she was looking for a title and a crown.

Honestly, he’s never going to get used to these leeches. Being a member of the royal family is hardly worth all that.

He sits up when the door opens, and Miles steps into the room, looking very smug. Trailing behind him is a young woman. Her hair is neatly pulled out of her face, and her clothes are neat, but don’t hang overly loose.

And, unlike most everyone else, her gaze skips right over him to focus on Boba. 

That, by itself, moves her to the top of the list.

“The last applicant, your Majesty,” Miles says with a gesture towards the young woman, and then he bows and leaves the room.

“His name is Boba,” Jango says, “He’s only a couple of weeks old.”

The corners of her lips turn down thoughtfully, “Forgive me for saying so, but having such a young baby around so many people is not safe for him.” 

Jango leans back in his seat, and a small smirk plays on his lips. Negative reputation or not, his estimation of her is going higher and higher. “I haven’t been allowing anyone to hold him.”

“Well, that’s something I suppose.” She finally turns her gaze to him and offers a shallow, but respectful curtsy. “I apologize, then.”

“There’s no need for that.” Jango scans her thoughtfully. She is young, but she looks tired. And her clothes hang on her, as though she’s recently lost a lot of weight. Or the clothes used to belong to someone else. “You were looking out for my son.”

He picks up her resume and motions for her to take a seat, which she does.

“I have your resume here,” He says, “And, honestly, I have a hard time believing that you don’t already have a job. Nannying since you were a teenager. A qualified governess in your own right. You’ve nannied for some very big names over the years. The most recent being the Kryze clan.”

“That’s all accurate, yes.” She replies, though her lips tighten at the mention of her previous employers. 

Jango sets the resume down on the table, “Based on your qualifications, you’re more than qualified for the job.” he says lightly, “But, understand, Boba is my only son. So I have to ask about these rumors-”

She winces and her shoulders curl in on her, “What would you like to know?”

There’s something like resigned defeat in her voice, and Jango finds himself not liking it. “What happened?”

Absently she rolls the hem of her sleeve between her fingers, “I was hired as the Nanny and Governess for Korkir Kryze three months before he was born.” She explains quietly, “I prepared the nursery, made sure that the house had everything it needed, and when he was born, I was the first one to hold him. I don’t think the Duke or the Duchess ever held him.” 

“Go on.”

“I can’t remember a single instance of his parents ever being in the same room as Korkie for longer than it took for a photo op or a meal.” She continues, “When he started talking, he called me mom. The Duchess…” She trails off, “She wasn’t happy about it.” She finally says.

“They fired you.”

“And spread rumors that I was a Noble Hunter and that I tried to seduce the Duke.” She bristles slightly, “I would never. I have enough self-respect to not try and poach from another woman-”

Jango holds up a hand, “Peace.”

She quells, though she still looks very unhappy.

“What happened after you were fired?”

“I moved in with my sister, it’s where I’ve been living.”

Jango nods thoughtfully, “This position comes with a series of rooms in the palace,” He explains, you also get two days off a week, days that you can set. You will be responsible for Boba during the day when I’m working, but you’ll only need to take him in the early mornings, evenings, or at night if I’m indisposed for some reason.”

She blinks at him, “Wait, you mean-?”

He smiles, “The position is yours, we’ll work out the rest of the hard details a bit later.”

“Thank you!”

His smile widens, “Would you like to hold Boba?”

She immediately walks over to the infant and allows Jango to place him in her arms. He watches as she adjusts his weight with the ease of someone who’s been caring for children for a long time.

“Time for the grand tour,” Jango says, “Follow me please.”

You settle into your new routine with ease. King Jango is a fine father and an even better man. He never treats you as if you’re less than him, and he listens to you if you say that there’s something wrong with Boba, or if you note that something needs to be changed.

In the 6 months that you’ve worked for him, you come to realize that you’ve never been as comfortable working for a family as you do when working for the King.

And yes, there is something of a small crush there. But you would never dream of risking your job in the hopes of catching his eye.

At 6 months old, Boba can roll over in both directions, and he babbles, though he still isn’t quite at the talking stage. More importantly, he’s learned stranger anxiety. Luckily, you’re not a stranger and he reaches for you as often as he reaches for his father.

Right now, though, Boba’s asleep in his crib and you’re organizing his nursery.

It’s one of the few nights where Jango isn’t able to put Boba down for the night, though, knowing the King, he’ll pop in as soon as he’s done in his meeting.

And, true to your expectations, half an hour later the nursery door opens. 

The King offers you a tired smile, and then walks over to the crib to peer down at the baby, “How was he today?”

“A little grumpy.” You reply, “But he settled around noon time.”

“That’s good.” You watch as Jango smoothes a curl off of Boba’s forehead, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to put him down for the night.”

“It happens,” You reply lightly, you slip a couple more diapers into the drawer, and then you glance at him, “It’s been happening a lot these last couple of weeks.” You note, almost absently.

It’s an offer for him to confide in you if he wants.

Jango sighs, “It has, yes.” He falls silent for a moment, “I know I only hired you to take care of Boba, but it’d be nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who’s not involved.”

You finish folding Boba’s clothes and put them in the dresser before you turn to look at him, “I’m always happy to listen, Jango.” You make sure the baby monitor is on, and then follow him out of Boba’s nursery and into Jango’s suites.

You sink onto one of the plush couches as he offers you a glass of juice, before he sits next to you, “The Council, and Miles, are pushing me to get married.” Jango says.

“I wasn’t aware that you had a partner,” You note thoughtfully as you take a sip of the juice and set the cup on the table.

“I don’t. That’s the problem.”

“You’re the King, if you want them to stop just tell them.”

“Sadly, it doesn’t work like that. They have lists of women who might be interested in marrying me, but—” He shakes his head.

“But you’re not interested.”

“I’m not blind, I’m well aware that I could have any noblewoman that I wanted. The problem is that I don’t want any of them.”

“May I ask why not?” You ask, curious.

“Boba.”

You exhale slowly, “Okay, that’s fair.”

“Plus, I have no interest in firing you. And the last thing I want is to put you in another situation like the Kryze situation.”

“That’s kind of you, Jango. But I really shouldn’t be a consideration in this.”

“Why not? You’re basically Boba’s mother at this point.”

You laugh softly, “That’s going to get me in trouble, I know it.”

Jango leans back for a moment, his dark eyes scanning you, “I lied.”

“About?”

“Not wanting any woman specifically.” Jango clarifies, “There’s one woman I’m interested in.”

“Okay, so you should talk to her.”

“I am.”

“Oh. Oh!” Your face heats and you press your hands against your cheeks, “Me. You mean me.”

Jango chuckles softly, though there’s nothing unkind there, “I do mean you.”

“But I’m just a nanny.”

“So? My parents were farmers, it was my adoptive dad who made me King.” Jango shifts on the couch so that his knees are almost touching you, “Boba loves you. And you’ve managed to keep me sane these last six months.”

“I don’t know anything about ruling a kingdom.”

“You don’t have to, that will remain my job.” Jango’s warm fingers brush against your cheek, “Tell me you’re not interested, and I’ll never mention it again.”

You stare at him, “I just…why me?”

“Because you’re you. Because the idea of you not being in my life makes me miserable.” Jango’s fingers slide across your lips.

“People will make assumptions—”

“Let them. So long as we both know the truth,” Jango leans in, his lips hovering just over yours, “You are the one I want. The only one I want.”

A soft sigh falls from your lips, “Jango—”

You’re not able to finish your thought, as his lips catch yours in a gentle, almost chaste, kiss. Your hands come up to lightly press against his cheeks, and then one of your hands slides to card through his curls.

Jango releases a low groan, the kiss deepening as he leans you back, so you’re lying on the couch and he’s supporting his weight on his elbows. He lightly nips your lower lip and then soothes the sore spot with his tongue.

You don’t mean to release the breathy whine at the feel of his teeth against you, but you do, and Jango practically collapses on you with a deep appreciative moan.

His lips move to your throat, and you gasp when he bites down on the sensitive skin located there, intent on leaving a mark.

You know that he would keep going and that you would let him when the baby monitor releases a little noise, and you both still at the sound of Boba waking up. 

He stares down at you, and you blink up at him, “I need to go get him,” You whisper. 

“Yeah.” Jango kisses you one more time, “We’ll have to continue this later. If you want?”

“Well,” You smile at him shyly, “I wouldn’t say no.”

He flashes an eager, and boyish, grin. “I can’t wait,” Jango murmurs as he climbs off of you and allows you to grab the baby monitor to hurry to the nursery.

And, when Jango joins you in the nursery half an hour later and wraps himself around you to watch you take care of Boba, you’re really not surprised. Just like you’re not surprised when his arms slide tightly around your waist and he holds you tightly.

You know that it’ll be a change, being in a relationship with the King. But you find yourself excited about the change, rather than anxious.