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Drabbling in May 2019

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Prompt:  “It’ll only hurt a little, I think…” (Dance)
Characters: Bridae, Zaria and Nuada Techtmar and Ari Drellik
Story: Sithy Bunch
Word Count: 1367
A/N: Nuada and the twins are Tuahtal and Ma’at’s children, Ari is her son with Talos who is every bit a part of the family as any of them. Bonus points if you can tell which movie was an inspiration for this.

Eleven-year-old Zaria Techtmar paused at the end of the hallway to peak around the corner. Hugging a freezing cold bowl of ice to her chest, she scanned the connecting corridor for any sign of an adult that would want to know what they were doing. The Knights didn’t bother them much, as long as they weren’t being attacked, they were safe enough for the guard’s satisfaction. It was the family that was the problem. Uncle Pierce might not ask what they were up to or might not stop them if they answered honestly. He was kind of cool like that. Almost anyone else would put a stop to their plans and this was one of those times where it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Once she saw that the coast was clear she looked over her shoulder and nodded at her twin Bridae. Together they hurried around the corner and down the hall to the royal family’s private apartment. Once inside they repeated the process two more times before finally reaching their bedroom. 

Zaria set the bowl of ice down on her desk next to their other supplies: candles they had snuck out of their parent’s bedroom, a lighter Bridae had nicked out of Uncle Andronikos’ jacket, and a needle from Uncle Mal’s infirmary. Bridae deposited her bowl of cut geldan sun apples pilfered during their kitchen raid next to the ice and grinned.

 "That’s everything!“ She declared, turning to eye Zaria. "You ready? You’re first.”

 "Who says I am going first?“ Zaria stepped back from the table, eyeing their supplies warily. "Why not you?”

 "Because you’re the oldest remember?“

 Zaria groaned at the reminder. Usually she liked to make sure her sister couldn’t forget that she was older by a whole whopping 3 minutes but this time she wasn’t sure she wanted to be first.

Though, going second would mean actually preforming the act first… Zaria wasn’t sure which was worse. 

While she was debating about which was the lesser evil, Bridae had started playing with the lighter after lighting the candle. Both girls had always loved fire, but she was by far more enthralled by flames than Zaria. The slightly older twin was far more drawn to explosives and the rush it was to see something explode and know she had caused it.

Watching Bridae playing with the flame, playing a game of chance of whether she was moving her fingers fast enough to avoid being burned, Zaria had an idea.

"Rock, flimsi, scissors. Winner gets to wield the needle.”

Bridae looked up from the fire and grinned impishly at her. “You know I always win rock, flimsi, scissors.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Zaria said, holding her hand out in front of her. Bridae mimicked her gesture.

Together they pumped their fists while they chanted “rock, flimsi, scissors!” On the third word Bridae flatted her hand to make flimsi as Zaria kept her hand fisted tight as rock. 

Clapping her hand on top of her sister’s fist, Bridae let out a cheer. “Told ya! I always win!”

“Yeah, we both know you cheat.” Zaria muttered, stomping over to the ice bowl and fishing out a cube. She pressed it to the back of her earlobe and shivered at the chill. “How bad do ya think this is gunna be?”

Bridae shrugged as she held the needle over the flame. “It’ll only hurt a little, I think…” She pulled the needle out of the flame and blew on it, “now pass me an apple and sit down.”

Nodding, Zaria grabbed the biggest slice of apple in the bowl and sat down on the edge of one of the two desks in their room. Bridae moved to stand next to her, needle and apple in each hand. “Ready?”

“Yeah, on three?”

“On three.”

Like the rock, paper, flimsi chant they counted in harmony. “One, two, three.”

On the count Zaria pulled the ice away from her ear, Bridae replaced it with the apple and stabbed the needle through her earlobe.

Zaria bit down hard on her lip to keep from crying out as her ear started to bleed. 

Bridae’s eyes widened as her blood dripped down her hand. “Are you okay?”

“I think so…” Zaria said, her voice trembling slightly. “Is it bleeding a lot?” 

"More than we thought it would.” Carefully Bridae pulled the needle out of the apple and her ear and held her hands up to show her the blood.

Zaria grabbed a shirt off the floor and pressed it against her ear to soak up the blood. The cloth was white and immediately started to turn pink. After a moment she pulled it away and tilted her head toward her sister. “Is it still bleeding?”

Bridae was just moving into check when their door slid open. Both girls swung around to look at the door without thinking about trying to hide the evidence.

“Girls, mum says its-” Ari’s words died on his lips as he took in the scene, frozen just in the doorway.

“What the hell?” Nuada snarled, pushing his brother out of the way to stalk into the room and grab Zaria to examine the damage. “What were you two doing?”

The twins exchanged a glance and their brothers knew them well enough to know it meant they weren’t planning on talking. Ari moved from the door to get a closer look at his sister’s ear. “You better tell us, before one of the parents finds out. And why is it always Zaria covered in blood?”

Bridae mumbled an answer that neither could remember before Nuada poked her in the shoulder to make her repeat herself.

“It looked easy in the movie and mum said we were too young for earrings.”

The boys stared at them for a moment while they tried to process that explanation. Finally, Ari spoke.

“Let me get this straight. Mum said you couldn’t get your ears pierced and your solution was to stab your sister in the ear?”

“Well it sounds stupid when you say it like that,” Zaria muttered while Nuada tried to clean her ear with another item of clothing he found on their floor.

“No, it sounds stupid because it is,” he said as he wiped the blood off her neck. Realizing it was a lost cause until her ear stopped bleeding and that he needed proper supplies Nuara sighed and took her by the arm. “C'mon let’s get you patched up and then you two can tell mum about your grand idea.”

Both twins protested as they were herded out of the room. Ari knew Bridae well enough to know that if he didn’t take her along with Zaria to the medbay they’d have to hunt her down later.

“It could be worse,” Ari said trying to offer some comfort. “We could make you go tell your dad what you did to your sister.”

Zaria stopped and turned to look at him, her expression shocked as what color was in her cheeks drained.

Bridae gave him an identical look. “You wouldn’t.”

Tuathal Techtmar, former Emperor’s Wrath of the Sith Empire, Commander of the Eternal Alliance and current Emperor of Zakuul was far more protective of his daughters than his sons. That wasn’t to say he would let any harm come to either boy, just that he fretted over the twins when one was hurt or sick. He claimed it was because the boys had the Force to protect them, especially during their training sessions while he wiped the floor with them, but Ari suspected it was because he worried about their budding interest in fire, explosives and far too many of Uncle Andronikos’ stories from his pirate days.

“It’s your choice,” Nuada said firmly, taking advantage of his position as the oldest of their generation to use what little authority that gave him with his siblings. “You come clean to mum or I’ll call dad myself.”

Bridae glared at him, obviously planning retribution before spitting out her concession. “Fine, but fix Zaria’s ear first, she’s bleeding all over her favorite shirt.”

Nuada grinned triumphantly, turning back around to continue toward the medbay. “That’s what I thought you’d say sis.”

Chapter Text

Prompt:  “I’m a mess” (Leather)
Characters: Sith Warrior Seleshi Korth/Vette
Word Count: 1326

Seleshi didn’t bother to hide his smile at the sounds of annoyance behind him. Vette couldn’t see his face so what did it matter if his mirth was apparent? They had spent most of the day hiking through the thick jungle in search of several large, canine like creatures with six large spikes on their back. He hadn’t paid much attention to their name, all he needed was a description and direction to hunt them down. The doctor who sent them believed he could cure some fatal disease plaguing the locals with the substance secreted by the beasts.

He failed to mention they were filled with the rancid sludge or that they literally spat it everywhere when provoked.

Or that Vette would prove much less able to dodge the sludge sprays than he was.

Now as they made their way back to the ship she was complaining, loudly, to make sure he knew how unhappy she was.

“I swear,” she grumbled behind him, “if you make one more of those damn things explode on me I am going to scream. Do you hear me jerkface?”

Seleshi hummed thoughtfully to let her know he heard, but didn’t take much offense to the insult. She had been calling him that for months now as a sort of mix between playful endearment and insult. If there was one thing he had learned about Vette since she had been ‘gifted’ to him was that she didn’t show affection the same way other people did.

The stray thought about how they met soured his mood and his amused smile fell. Even at the time he found the idea of his master giving him a person distasteful, freeing her as soon as Baras was out of sight was as much the right thing to do and something he truly hoped would piss the older Sith off. He had honestly expected Vette to leave as soon as she was able, but for some reason or another the lively twi’lek stayed by his side.

It was a far more pleasant surprise than he imagined it could be.

Vette huffed loudly behind him and stopped walking.

Finally, Seleshi turned and schooled her face to keep from aggravating her more with his smile. “Is something bothering you Vette?”

If looks could kill, Seleshi would be in desperate need of a medic with the glare she shot at him.

“Look at me!” Vette held her hands out to the side and turned, “I am completely covered in that gunk and I think I might be allergic to it cause it’s starting to itch.”

Seleshi frowned, Vette was known to exaggerate but if she really was having some kind of reaction to it he’d feel awful for dragging her along. “We are almost back to the ship, you can shower when we get there.”

Vette shook her head, “no it’s too far and this is driving me crazy. Look there is water just over there, can’t I wash up before we head back?”

“It’s going to be dark soon.”

“But Seleshi,” she whined, a tone she knew was very persuasive with him and had exploited since that discovery, “I’m a mess.”

Sighing heavily, Seleshi turned toward the body of water she had pointed at. “Is that water even clean?”

“It’s cleaner than I am,” Vette snipped back before starting to stalk toward the water’s edge. Seleshi followed her already preparing himself to either argue with or subdue her if the water looked too dirty to allow her to bathe in.

Thankfully none of his plans, most of which ended with her slung over his shoulder and getting that vile goop all over his leather jacket, were needed. The water was surprisingly crystal clear, giving them both an easy view of the soft, sandy dirt at the bottom.

Vette whooped happily before yanking her shirt over her head without any kind of warning. Seleshi got an eye full of her torso, with only a lace edged white bra covering her, before he quickly turned his back. Folding his arms across his chest tightly he bit the inside of his cheek to distract himself. Vette’s skin was the most beautiful shade of blue he had ever seen and lately she had been showing more of it than usual, glimpses he would be grateful for if their relationship had any beginning other than the one it had.

It didn’t matter that he had freed her as soon as possible, the guilt of having owned her for even a moment haunted him. As did the thought that she might go along with any move he had toward something more physical between them because of that former relationship. If he was ever lucky enough to entice Vette into his bed, he needed to be sure she wanted to be there.

Belatedly, as if she didn’t realize she had started to strip in front of him Vette called out to him. “Hey, you better not peek at me or I’ll gut you.”

“Yes, I know,” he replied, grinning to himself. “Though I would love to see you try.”

Splashes and laughter came from behind him and Seleshi tightened his grip on his forearms to keep his mind of wondering just how much of her clothing she had removed.

“I think we both know you wouldn’t hurt me,” she called, her voice farther away than before. “You’d probably let me.”

She’s going to be the death of me, Seleshi thought as he realized that she jwas probably right. If she tried while naked and dripping wet he would certainly be distracted enough not to stop her. Needing a better distraction, he pulled out his datapad and scrolled through the mission parameters. He had it near memorized by the time she cursed loudly behind him.

“Whats wrong?” He growled, whipping around and reaching for one of his light sabers in case she was in danger.

“Hey! Eyes averted buster!” Vette shouted.

Turning his head upward to stare at the sky Seleshi bared his teeth in frustration. “If you aren’t in danger, what are you griping about now?”

“I am in danger! In danger of walking back to the ship naked,” she groaned. “This shit isn’t coming off my clothes.”

Seleshi stared up at the sky for several long moments, listening to her gripe as she tried to clean her clothing, before he was sure he could speak without pointing out that he told her she should wait till they were back at the ship. “Leave them,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket and holding it out to her blindly. “This should keep you covered.”

The jacket was almost immediately snatched out of his hands and he could hear Vette sighing with relief. Still he didn’t look down, in case she was going to be serious about her threats to gut him, until he felt her hand on his chest.

Lowering his gaze, he found that she was standing very close to him, barely a breath’s width between them, with one of her hands resting on his sternum. Her lips were curled into a smile and when she rose on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, he was so stunned he didn’t react until after she had stepped away.

“Thank you Seleshi,” she said before turning and starting back toward the ship.

It took a moment for him to follow, first he glanced down to see that all of her clothing was left there on the jungle floor confirming his imagined visions of her nude in the water. Nude under his jacket. Lifting a hand to his face he could almost feel her kiss still and was more grateful than ever that blushing didn’t show on him, though he could feel the extra heat on his cheek.

“You’ll be the death of me Vette,” he remarked out of her earshot before following her path. “And what a good death it will be.”

Chapter Text

Prompt:   “I could really use a fuck right now.” (Spellbound
Characters: Bounty hunter Magdalena Vizla and Khomo Fett
Word Count: 2230

A/N: Mags is Shae’s adopted daughter and this is very NSFW

Magdalena Vizla had an itch she just couldn’t scratch. It had been a good fight, one she knew she would be sore in the morning from, and had transitioned into a good party. Booze and brawling was usually all Magdalena needed to wind down after a battle. Tonight it was not effective at all. Her whole body was singing, crying out for more.

The only problem was she wasn’t sure what she needed. That is until a whoop of laughter and the sound of a body hitting the ground hard pulled her attention away from her barely touched tihaar. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the source of her distraction.

Khomo Fett was everything a man should be. Tall, broad shouldered and muscular, so much so she could see it even under his beskar’gam. He had a strong jaw and large hands, both of which she had often fantasized about touching and being touched by.

That was what she needed. It had been ages since Magdalena had gotten a good fuck and then it wasn’t with someone half the man Khomo was. It didn’t matter that she was ninety percent sure the man hated her, the worst he could do was turn her down.

Turning in her chair, Magdalena leaned against the table behind her and eyed her prey. A man like Khomo was a born hunter but for tonight he would be the hunter, whether he was aware of it or not. She just needed an opportunity to strike, preferably away from the crowd.

It didn’t take long for her chance to present itself, anyone who drank the way Khomo did would have to relieve themselves eventually. When he stalked off into the trees no one took much notice of her dogging his footsteps.

Keeping back a fair distance, Magdalena waiting for him to finish his business before approaching. When he stepped around the large tree she was hiding behind, she struck. Grabbing him by the chest plate she turned them both and pushed him back against the tree trunk hard. His hands wrapped around her wrists tightly and she shivered at the strength she could feel.

“What the fuck Vizla,” he growled, no hint of a drunken slur in his voice.

“Hey Khomo,” she said, pressing close to him. He hadn’t thrown her off to the side yet, she was taking that as a good sign. “You in a hurry to get back?”

The scowl on his face dropped slightly and he lifted an eyebrow smugly at her as if he had realized what she intended. “Don’t have to be. Got something in mind?”

Magdalena pulled one of her hands out of his grip and looped her finger in his belt and tugged his groin closer to her’s. “Still a bit riled up from the fight and I could really use a fuck right now,” she said, biting her lower lip while giving him her best smolder.

Khomo scoffed, “I don’t even like you.”

“You don’t have to,” she said, flicking open the latch on his belt and grinning when he didn’t protest. “I’m not asking for anything more than a good time and I promise to make it worth your while.” She dropped his belt onto the ground at their feet and fixed him with a serious look. One that told him to say now if he was in or not.

Khomo smiled smugly and leaned back against the tree. “Prove it.”

Magdalena grabbed his chestplate again and pulled him down to kiss him roughly, making him groan when she bit down on his bottom lip just hard enough to hurt. Releasing his lip, she nipped at his chin before dropping to her knees and shedding her gloves. She heard his sharp intake of breath but was too busy examining the closures on his codpiece. It took a moment, because every set of beskar’gam was unique, but soon she had the plate removed and only a layer of fabric was left between her and goal.

Looking up she found Khomo’s eyes focused intensely on her and smiled. Without breaking eye contact she reached into the very convenient slit in his kute and wrapped her hand around his already hard cock. Magdalena could feel his body tense at the contact and his hands were curled into tight fists. Seeing him react to her sent a thrill of excitement through her, Khomo was not a man who followed anyone’s pace.

Now he was dancing to her’s and Magdalena was determined to enjoy it for as long as he allowed it.

Pumping her hand up and down his length a few times, both to get a feel for the impressive size of him and his reactions, Magdalena licked her lips in anticipation. Khomo’s eyes tracked the movement of her tongue and prompted her to lean forward and drag her tongue across to tip of his cock. He groaned loudly and before he had finished, she took him into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Khomo bit out as the tip of his cock hit the back of her throat, curling his back toward her. His hands, which until now he had kept in fests at his side, buried in her hair and cupped the back of her head.

Magdalena relaxed her throat and held still, waiting out his patience until he tightened his fingers in her hair and pulled. Moaning around his cock, she let him fuck her mouth. She kept her eyes trained up on him, knowing they glowed just enough that he would be able to see them, and dug her fingers under the plates on his thighs to give herself a measure of control.

He was larger than most men she had been with and she was grateful that she was completely without a gag reflex. Even still she had to focus on her breathing to keep from pushing away from him. It would ruin the moment. He wasn’t even touching her, other than the back of her head, and she was burning with need. Belatedly she realized she should have removed more of her armor before approaching her, only her hands and face were uncovered, and she desperately needed to touch herself as he moved in and out of her mouth.

At first his movements were controlled, pulling and pushing her head steadily up and down his length. Then she tightened her lips around his him and pressed her tongue up against the underside of his shaft and his hips stuttered, pace increasing until he went still. Holding her head flush against his pelvis, Khomo spilled himself down her throat with a deep shout.

Releasing his hold on her hair, Khomo slumped back against the tree as she caught her breath. The sound of him chuckling drew her attention back up to his face.

“This how you always ask for a favor Mags?”

Magdalena grinned. “Maybe. People don’t say no to me often,” she said before her brow furrowed. “You’ve never called me that before.”

Khomo shrugged, reaching a hand down to her. “Never fucked your pretty mouth before, seems odd to call you Vizla with my cum on your lips.”

Taking his hand, Magdalena let him pull her up to her feet. “Someone might think you are getting a little too familiar with Mandalore?”

“Something like that,” Khomo said, grabbing her by the hair again and pulling her in for a kiss. This time instead of letting her lead the kiss and keeping his hands to himself, he was in control. Tasting himself on her tongue, pulling at the pieces of beskar covering her body. He growled into her mouth as his hands caressed her through her own kute.

Magdalena grabbed the fabric at her neck and pulled, ripping it all the way down to her belly. She had been meaning to replace it soon and she needed to feel his hands on her skin. Khomo was quick to respond, tearing at the band around her breasts before roughly taking them both in hand. She dropped her head back and moaned as he pinched and teased her nipples.

That itch, that need for some kind of release was starting to become unbearable. The warm wetness between her thighs was undeniable, she was far more than ready for him. “Khomo,” she gasped, grabbing his shoulders when he moved his lips from her mouth to her neck, biting at the tender flesh there. “Please tell me you are good for my end of this.”

Khomo hooked his hands under her thighs and spun, pinning her back against the tree and grinding his hips against her’s. There was no denying the hardness pressing against her – he was good for it.

Magdalena laughed, rocking her hips against his. “Help a girl out here?”

“Why should I? Told you I didn’t like you.”

“You can hate me for all I care,” she shot back before grinning as she continued to grind her hips against his. “Fuck me like you hate me.”

Ripping off his gloves, Khomo wrapped one of his hands around her throat. Leaning close he growled into her ear. “Gedetir dala.”

The firm command made Magdalena shiver despite the warm air. She’d always had a weakness for a man taking charge and with Khomo it was like that appeal had been dialed up to eleven. She’d never begged for anything in her adult life but now she seriously considering it.

“Say it Magdalena,” he said, pausing to press his teeth against the soft spot below her ear and make her moan. “Or I walk.”

Slapping his hand still holding her neck, not cutting off her air but applying enough pressure to give an edge to her pleasure, he moved it so she could speak.

“You’re a dick,” Magdalena laughed, voice hoarse. “Lucky me. Gedet'ye Khomo, gedet’ye.”

Pinning her between his torso and the tree to free his hands, Khomo made quick work of ripping the rest of her kute. Without any preamble he entered her, pushing all the way to the hilt in one quick fluid movement.

“Fuck,” she gasped, tightening her grip on his shoulders and digging in with her nails as he set a brutal pace. There was so many sensations coursing through her body she couldn’t decide which to focus on. He stretched her deliciously and filled her to the brim, paired with the furious way he thrust in and out of her. The pain of him fingers digging into her thighs, his teeth against her neck as he growled and groaned into her ear, and the rough bark biting into her back only intensified her pleasure.

This was what she had needed, the feverish, lust filled rutting of two people desperate for release.

As on edge as her body was, it didn’t take long before she was crying out, the intensity of her orgasm making her tremble in the aftershocks. Between the way her body clenched around him and her nails raked down his back, Khomo followed her over that edge, pulling her tight enough to his body that she was sure she’d have bruises to remember him by.

After several long moments, Khomo released her, letting her feet touch the ground again and stepped away. He bent to retrieve the few pieces of his beskar’gam littering the forest floor while Magdalena examined what was left of her kute. Deciding it was a lost cause, she retrieved one of the daggers in her boot and cut away the rest of the material on her legs.

When she finished, Magdalena had nothing left but her boots. Khomo watched with amusement in his eyes as she gathered her armor into her arms, wrapping it with the ruined fabric to make it easier to carry. All the pieces excelp her chest plate fit inside the fabric, tied into a messy package. Setting the makeshift bag on the ground next to the last piece of armor, she turned back to him and smiled.

“Thank you Khomo, that was exactly what I needed.” She sighed and shook her head when his only reply was a smug grin. She hadn’t expected much more from him. Regardless she had something left to say and the intent way he watched her hips sway as she approached him was unmistakable. Magdalena laid her hand on his chest once she could reach. “At the risk of inflating your ego, if that is how you fuck a woman you hate, the one you finally fall for is one lucky lady.”

Patting his chest once more Magdalena turned away, gathered her things, and left him there among the trees. The sounds of the party still in full swing drifted through the air as she walked away, hugging her armor to her chest. She wasn’t shy about being naked, or worried someone might see her, but as much as she had enjoyed the sex it left her with a heavy heart. She would never admit it but tonight was something she had wanted for a long time. Khomo was the only man she had ever wanted that way. It was more than sex, she wanted to be the lucky woman who shared her life and bed with him.

Now she had a taste of what that could be like, a glorious taste that would haunt her forever because he said it himself.

He didn’t even like her.

Chapter Text

Prompt: “Please don’t do this.” (Pen)
Characters:  Sith Inquisitor Rugama Neiu and Theron Shan 
Word Count: 942

Theron looked up from his data pad when Rugama turned over restlessly in bed. He watched her for a moment from across the room while she settled. Normally he would have finished in his office or the war room before coming to bed but lately she hadn’t been sleeping well. Not that the stubborn woman wouldn’t admit it. Even all these years after being freed and cementing her place in the universe she hated to show any kind of weakness. Expecting her to confess that she was only able to fall asleep in his arms was asking too much.

Once she was resting comfortably again, Theron turned back to his work. Tapping his stylus against his knee he tried to make sense of the figures in front of him. It just didn’t seem possible that resources had become so scarce so quickly, a decade would make sense, but things had been fine just a few years before.

Rugama turned over again, muttering under her breath. Her voice was low enough that the only word he could make out was his name.

She must be dreaming about me, he thought, smiling as he set aside his datapad. He couldn’t let this opportunity to find out what she was saying pass him by. Moving deliberately to avoid making noise and waking her up, Theron made his way to the bed.

As he approached and was able to hear her better, his heart dropped into his stomach. The fear in her voice was painfully clear.

“Theron,” Rugama gasped, twisting uncomfortably in the bed and pulling the sheets away from her body. “Please don’t do this, please.”

Climbing on to the bed, Theron shook her shoulders gently to try and wake her up. “Ru, sweetie wake up, you’re dreaming.”

Gasping, she jerked awake in his arms and immediately latched on to him. Theron caught her, pulling her into his lap and rubbing his hands down her back and sides as she shook.

“I’ve got you,” he said softly into her ear, “it was just a dream. Everything’s okay.”

Rugama shook her head next to his. “It didn’t feel like a dream,” she said, leaning back to see his face, “if I didn’t know you as well as I do I’d call it a vision.”

Theron frowned, “that’s ominous. Do I want to know what you dreamt?” Instead of answering she ran her hands long the seams of his jacket. Knowing better than to try and rush her, he waited out her delaying tactics.

“I dreamt that you were the traitor,” Rugama whispered before buying her face in his chest.

“That you tried to kill me on Iokath and were trying again.”

It was like all the blood in Theron’s body had turned to ice. How did she know? Could the Force really be warning her about his plans. It wasn’t that Theron wanted to kill her, he meant it when he said he love Rugama more than he ever thought he could love anyone and as twisted as he knew it was, that was why he had sabotaged the throne on Iokath. Not to kill her, but to hurt enough to give the impression an honest attempt had been made.

It had scared him half to death, hearing her cry out in pain like she had. It was a real struggle not to cut the power and spare her anymore torment, but it was a far cry from the damage their enemies wanted to inflict on her.

Unchecked they would kill her and destroy everything she had worked so hard to save.

Part of Theron was desperate to spill everything to her, what he had discovered, what he planned, but he couldn’t do that and trust they wouldn’t be overheard. That and, just this once, Rugama deserved to be the one saved. Her whole life she been the one to play savior, first freeing herself from her enslavement, from the overbearing control of her Master – Sith and otherwise – and then the whole galaxy from Vitiate and Zakuul’s conquest.

Just once he wanted to save her, even if she never forgave him for it.

Sighing heavily, Theron wrapped his arms tightly around her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I would never want to hurt you like that,” he said, meaning every word even as it felt like a lie.

Rugama shifted so she could look up at him, a soft smile playing on her lips and unending trust in her eyes that felt like a vibroblade to the gut. “I know that Theron, it just felt so real I almost believed it. I’m sorry, I trust you. I really do.”

“Please don’t apologize to me,” Theron said quickly, cupping her cheek and running his thumb along the line of scars, “not for this.”

“Okay,” she said, laughing softly and leaning her face into his palm. “Thank you for being here when I woke up, it was such a terrible dream and having you here really helped settle my nerves. I love you Theron.”

Pushing away the guilt he felt for misleading her, Theron leaned down to touch his forehead to hers. “I love you too Ru, please never doubt that.”

It was a desperate request; one he knew was futile. When he proved her nightmares to be all too real he would be lucky if she ever so much as smiled at his memory, let alone believed that everything he did he did out of love.

If she lived long enough to hate him for his actions, that would make it all worth it as far as Theron was concerned.

Chapter Text

Prompt: tied together (Illness) 
Characters: Republic Trooper Darvc Lewton, Jedi Knight Noara Starspark, and Smuggler Juliaddi Lewton (Basically Noara and two of the three siblings she never knew about)
Word Count: 1683

“What about savrip pox? Did you ever get that growing up?”

Noara frowned at the question, “I’ve never even heard of that.”

“Really?” Juliaddi asked, “but everyone gets it when they start school back home.”

Leaning back into her seat, Noara tried not to let that one hurt. Tonight, was about getting to know her siblings, not dwelling on the painful side of finding them. All the little reminders that even if they were tied together by DNA, they were strangers. “I didn’t grow up on Ord Mantell, remember? Back on Naboo swamp fever was the one everyone got in the wet season.”

Darvic frowned into his drink. “Do I want to know what swamp fever is?”

“I don’t know,” Noara said, smiling mischievously the way Fynta had taught her. “Did you want to eat dinner tonight?”

“Not another word sis.”

Noara grimaced. It still felt so… unreal. The idea of having siblings, being referred to one felt like she was pretending to be someone else. Looking across the table she could see the slight resemblance between herself and Darvic. His eyes were the only ones she had ever seen another human have almost as light blue as her own and after Kadu had pointed out the similar shape of their noses she hadn’t been able to unsee it.

Juliaddi on the other hand didn’t look anything like Noara. She had a fuller, curvier figure and suntanned skin, deep blue eyes and blonde hair. If Elara and Kadu hadn’t confirmed that they shared a familial DNA match, she would never have believed they were connected. Finding her “long lost” family was nothing like it was in her stories, where it was a fairly common troupe. There was no instant connection, no unexplainable connection.

No sudden unconditional love.

“Please don’t call me that,” she said, dropping her eyes to the tabletop.

Darvic sighed heavily. “Fine Noara but you realize it doesn’t change anything,” he spat, making Noara sink further into her seat in. “You’re stuck with us, that is how family works.”

“Darvic!” Juliaddi grabbed his arm and shook it, glaring up at her older brother.

“No Juli, I am fed up with her trying to push me away anytime I bring up the fact she’s my sister, our sister,” he said, glancing at her before pinning Noara with a hard stare. “Running from the truth won’t change it.”

“You want the truth?” Noara, temper having finally snapped, said before standing and planting her hands on the table, “the truth is that you are a stranger, one who expects me to have some sort of connection to them but I don’t and you know why? Because your parents gave me away and moved on with their lives. Why should I want anything to do with any of you, I bet you never even thought about me during your happy perfect childhood.”

Darvic shot to his feet. “You think mom and dad just moved on? Fuck Noara, they still mourn giving you up and you are making it worse by refusing to let us tell them about you.”

“And I have to care about that why?”

He sputtered angrily a few times before managing to speak. “Because that is what family does. They are there for one another and try to spare the others as much pain as possible.”

Tears filled Noara’s eyes and she stepped back from the table, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. “And where was this supposed family of mine when I was being tortured by the Sith? Hm Darvic? Where were you when I needed you?”

“Okay that is enough, both of you!” Juliaddi had so far allowed them to snip at one another, she knew her brother well enough to know that he had to get things off his chest before getting past it, but this was going too far for her comfort. “Shab I am the youngest here, why are you the two behaving like children?”

Standing, Juliaddi circled the table and carefully wrapped her arm around Noara’s shoulders. Motioning for Darvic to follow she led them from the table to the couches in the Defender’s common room. The rest of Noara’s crew had given them the ship to have some quality bonding time but so far that had been a bust, she only hoped she could salvage this somehow. Noara was trembling as Juliaddi helped her sit and immediately took up the space next to her. Darvic sat on the other side, shame coloring his cheeks.

Juliaddi and Darvic had a very limited view of what had happened to Noara to require the full time supervision of her personal squad of retired spec force troopers but they had discussed it at length and come to only one conclusion. Whatever it was, it was bad. The kind of thing they wouldn’t wish on their worst enemy. Noara’s outburst had all but confirmed their theories.

“Noara-” Darvic started before Juliaddi cut him off.

“No, you’ve talked enough, my turn.” Juliaddi glared at him until he nodded his agreement to be quiet then turned her face to the woman sitting between them. “Noara, I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this must be for you, but you deserve to know who your family is. That we are out there, and we care about you. Mom and dad never forgot you, my whole life every picture they have of you has been set out. They are all over the house, mom even put one in the kitchen so she could see you when she cooked. She always said letting the Jedi take you was her greatest regret.”

“Then why…” Noara waved her hand in irritation when her voice cracked, and she couldn’t say the words.

Darvic wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “They didn’t know how to raise you with the Force,” he said gently. “Dad told me once that as an infant when you’d cry in the middle of the night all your toys would fly around the room. They didn’t want you to accidentally hurt yourself or someone else. They didn’t know what else to do to get you trained to use it and they didn’t want to deny your powers or be afraid of them.”

Noara frowned down at her knees, “I guess that makes sense, but it still hurts you know?”

Juliaddi took one of Noara’s hands, forcing her to release the white-knuckle grip, and laced the fingers together. “What hurts Noara?” she prompted.

“Knowing that they replaced me as soon as I as gone,” she whispered, unable to look up at either of them. “We aren’t supposed to talk about it or even think about our families, but kids are going to talk you know? And we all kind of came to the same conclusion. Our families didn’t love us. Not enough to keep us.”

Darvic stiffened beside her and Juliaddi sucked in a sharp breath at her words. “But that isn’t true, we do love you Noara,” Darvic said emphatically.

“I’ve been told my whole life that family, attachment and love were the first steps to the darkside.” Noara shook her head sadly, “those aren’t fears I can just forget. It takes time.”

“I’m sorry Noara, I shouldn’t have pushed so hard. I just was so excited to finally find you I never realized how hard this must be fore you.” Darvic tightened his arm around her shoulder comfortingly.

Juliaddi nodded, “same, I always wanted to meet my big sister. I guess we got a bit carried away.”

Laughing suddenly, Noara leaned back against Darvic’s side, “I don’t know how to be a sister at all, what makes a big sister any different?”

Scooting closer, Juliaddi hugged Noara so they were both holding her from either side. “Don’t worry, I have fourteen years of this big sister stuff under my belt. I’ll show you.”

“And we will try and be more patient with you,” Darvic said, “if you will give this a fair try.”

Noara nodded, “okay.”

“Would you please let us tell mom and dad?” he continued. “You don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to, but they should know. The Jedi Order never…” Davric sighed, “they would never tell us if you were on coruscant when the temple was attacked. They won’t admit it, but I know they are both scared that you died that day and it’s their fault.”

Noara shivered at the memories his words stirred. She hadn’t been on Coruscant, but she remembered the day it was sacked in perfect clarity. The way the masters all behaved and the pain in the air that filled her senses as the names of the dead were revealed. Knight Sovro’s name was among them, the man who saved her the year before when she ran afoul of a Sith. Noara had never lost anyone before and being told to meditate on the pain of knowing she would never see him again had been anything but helpful.

‘Okay,” she said softly, “you can tell them, but I am not ready to face them.”

“That’s okay, we’ll call them later, when we get back to my ship. They are going to be thrilled,” Juliaddi said, smiling. “In the meantime, do you like movies? How about we watch a movie and relax for a bit?”

Darvic laughed, “this is why I brought her along instead of trying to bond with you alone. Juli is good at breaking the tension, right?”

I’m seeing that,” Noara agreed. “A movie sounds good, with popcorn.”

Her siblings exchanged a smile over her head. “Yep, you are definitely one of us.”

It was still strange, sitting on the couch with her brother and sister hugging her from either side. Like a dream that felt too real. Noara had no doubt it was going to be a long road, accepting them as family and building those relationships they should have always had, but if they could be patient with her Noara was beginning to think she could manage.  One itty bitty step at a time.

But first, popcorn.

Chapter Text

Prompt: “This would not happen if I had a penis.” (Writing)
Characters: Jedi Knight Maldwyn Gof and Kira Carsen
Word Count: 496

“I’ll have you know I will be writing a very detailed complaint to your corporate headquarters!”

Maldwyn was so surprised by the venom in Kira’s tone that he completely missed whatever response her threat had gotten. Increasing his pace, he hurried into the main room of their ship just in time to see the hologram of an irate looking zabrak wink out of existence.

“Everything okay Kira?” he hedged carefully, taking in the tightness in her shoulders and grimace on her face. Through their Force bond he could feel her inner storm of emotions. Anger, annoyance, indignation and even a shadow of embarrassment rolled around in her mind as she fought to control them as she had been taught by Master Kiwiiks.

Frowning, Maldwyn stepped forward to lay a hand on her shoulder and try and help her calm down. Kira had always had trouble subduing her more potent emotions, something he thought might be a side effect of years on Korriban being trained to embrace them before joining the Jedi, but he didn’t mind helping when she needed it. Truthfully her time in the Empire was a double edged sword, he would give anything to be able to take those harsh memories away from her but if she had been raised by Jedi she might have never allowed herself to fall in love with him. He would never want to lose the joy she brought to his life.

Kira sighed and leaned into his touch for a moment before jerking away and rounding on him. “This would not happen if I had a penis. Your whole gender is a bunch of misogynistic, sexist pricks.”

Maldwyn stepped back and held his hands up in surrender. “Hey now I can’t help that most of them are assholes but there’s no reason to yell at me.”

She groaned and threw herself into one of the couches lining the room. “I’m sorry it just so frustrating, that dingus just tried to change me double what he quoted you with only a shrug and “mechanic’s fees” by way of explanation.” She looked over at him, “do I look stupid or something?”

“Of course not,” Maldwyn answered quickly, joining her on the couch, “and he only dared pull that because it wasn’t face to face. No man in his right mind would try and cheat you with your lightsaber right here.”

Sighing, Kira laid her head down on his shoulder. “I still think it’s stupid I would be treated better of I had a penis.”

Smiling, Maldwyn pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Would it be terribly tasteless to point out you do have one, it just isn’t attached to you.”

Kira pulled away to give him an unimpressed look. “Yes.”

“Oh well, in that case how about we go get dinner?” Maldwyn grinned down at her, “and after I can show you how much I prefer your anatomy to mine.”

“Now that sounds like a good idea.”

Chapter Text

Prompt: “Relax. I’m trying to help.” (Sunlight) 
Characters: Imperial Agent Naadia and Aric Jorgan
Word Count: 5613

A/N: Naadia and Aric first ran into one another during her brief stint as a double agent, the story of which can be found here. This fic also ended up NSFW, because cinlat is an enabler of the best kind. 

Every part of Aric Jorgan’s body hurt. Part of that was due to the firefight and the concussion grenade blast that he was caught in that landed him where he was now but most of it was the way his arms were chained above his head and the assortment of bruises from his time as a breathing punching bag for bored Zakuulian Knights. He was still angry with himself for getting caught, in all his years in the military he had never been a prisoner of war before. It would have been preferable to keep it that way.

They had been working him over for a few days now, though that was just a guess. Without a chrono he had no idea how much time had passed just that he hadn’t died of hunger yet since they refused to feed him. It was a common tactic, starve and beat a prisoner until they are weak enough to answer any question. So far it has done little to change his mind about talking, but he was enough of a realist to know it was only a matter of time. They might not be able to beat it out of him but starve him long enough and he wouldn’t be able to resist their mental manipulations anymore.

In theory he could bit off his tongue before it came to that, but he really didn’t want to do that unless absolutely necessary.

The door opened and Aric didn’t even bother to look up. He already knew who it would be, that one Knight Talx, the one that took the most pleasure in rearranging his face. That was his most frequent visitor.  

“Oh Aric, what have they done to you?” The voice, softer and accented differently that the Knights made him snap his head up to see the Chiss woman standing in front of him. He hadn’t seen her in years, but there was no mistaking her identity. Naadia. Cipher Nine.

“What are you doing here?” Aric tried to growl the words at her and almost winced at how raspy his voice was instead. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken that wasn’t to cry out in pain and then only when he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

Naadia ignored the glare he eyed her with and crossed the room to start fiddling with his restraints. “I was just in the neighborhood,” she answered casually, a small smile playing on her lips, “thought I’d come see if there was anything worth stealing off a lone Zakuulian transport. Looks like it is my lucky day.”

Aric didn’t buy that for a minute, for one her tone wasn’t near as casual as her words suggested her attitude was. She had an ulterior motive for being here – the same way she had one for the night she slept with him. Once he learned she had turned on her SIS team and killed them he realized what a mistake trusting her had been. Really, he should have known better, trusting an Imperial Agent to have actually switched sides? How naive had he been? And now he was just supposed to believe she accidentally found him being held captive and came to his rescue?

After a moment of reaching above his head on her toes Naadia managed to get the cuffs around his wrists to release. Knowing he needed to act quickly to catch her off balance, Aric summoned what strength he had to grab her, one hand on her throat and the other on her arm. Turning around he slammed her against the wall and tightened his hold on her neck.

“Did you really think I would just let you whisk me away to another prison?” Aric growled, properly this time and flashing sharp teeth for her benefit. “You’re pretty but not that pretty.”

Aric didn’t realize how tight his grip had grown until she started smacking his arm and her face paled, the deep blue color of her skin turning lighter shades than he had though Chiss could be. He loosened his hand and she gasped, breathing in great gulps of air as her skin returned to her usual coloring. He could feel her racing pulse under his hand, giving away that even as her face returned to the mask of calm neutrality that seemed to be her default, she wasn’t as comfortable as she seemed.

“Aric please,” Naadia said softly, like how one spoke to a spooked animal. Aric didn’t appreciate the comparison. “I need you to trust me and try to relax before you hurt yourself even more. I’m promise, I’m trying to help you.”

Hesitantly he released her and stepped away. In a perfect world anyone other than an Imperial spy would have shown up to help but beggars couldn’t be choosers and he knew enough about her background to know that if anyone could get them off this ship it’d be her. “Alright, I’ll trust you. For now.”

Naadia smiled, rubbing her neck tenderly. “Thank you. We need to get moving.”

Moving carefully but with confidence that said she knew the route, Naadia led Aric through the ship. He had been unconscious when they brought him on board and every hallway looked much like the last one to him but Naadia passed three before taking them around a corner. As they moved, he tried to keep an eye out for any guards, but his gaze kept being drawn back to the Chiss woman in front of him. Her hair looked even longer than before, if that was possible, but it was hard to tell with the tight braid she had woven it into, but she looked thinner than he remembered. The fitted black suit she wore left little to imagination where she didn’t have knives or other assorted weaponry strapped to her thin thighs and waist.

Part of him wanted to ask if she was okay, but he forced himself to remember the security alert he’d received about her a few months after their single night together. Naadia had pretended to defect to infiltrate an SIS team, one she worked with for months before killing most of them in one fell swoop. Reading that had made him feel angry and used. He couldn’t stop himself from examining every word he had said that night and the next day, wondering what information she could have gotten from it. That had to be why she went him with him, fishing for information.

It was even more frustrating to realize they had barely talked about their jobs at all. Naadia’s questions had been more personal and casual than probing. Asking him what it was like being an alien in the mostly human Republic, comparing it to the discrimination in the Empire, teasingly asking if he could really purr and what he would give her if she could figure out how to make him do it. The night had been far more physical than conversational.

Then there was the worrying fact that she had been alone in his apartment for an unknown amount of time while he slept, making a surprisingly lavish breakfast. Aric’s datapad had been where she could find it and, while encrypted, he had little doubt an agent of her reputation would be able to bypass it. Aric had no way of knowing what information she had accessed with his security clearance, not without reporting the incident. It would have been the right thing to do, but he didn’t.

Naadia stopped at a corner and motioned for him to wait. Aric frowned and started to protest but before he got a word out, she had slipped around the corner. He followed, peering down the hallway to see her quickly moving toward a Knight who had his back to her.

It was with rapt fascination that Aric watched her slide two of her daggers out of her thigh holsters. He had never gotten to see what a fully trained Imperial Agent was capable of in close combat, not without his own life being on the line. It was almost terrifying the ease with which she attacked. In a fluid, graceful movement she sliced the Knights hamstrings where his armor exposed the back of his thighs. As the Knight fell to the ground, she moved with him, planting her other dagger into his neck between his chest piece and helmet.

It had taken less than 30 seconds for her to dispatch him and start cleaning her weapons on the Knight’s body suit. Naadia stood, returning the knives to their holsters and motioned for him to join her.  She was every bit as capable and deadly on her own as he assumed. Why would she give anyone complete control over herself?

That was the last piece of intel the alert had included, a code word. One that apparently forced her to comply to any order given with it. Aric had never heard of anything like that before, had no idea if it was something the Empire required all agents to do or if she was a special case, but it seemed out of character for her. He didn’t know Naadia well, but she was obviously her own person despite the Empire’s emphasis on conformity.

As they got closer to the hanger Aric was starting to find it suspicious that they had not run into more resistance. “Where is everyone?” he asked, breaking the silence between them for the first time leaving his cell.

Naadia stopped and turned to face him. “There doesn’t seem to have been a large crew to begin with, the droids were all in their stations. I killed two Knights when I was looking for you. That makes only three so far.”

Aric folded his arms across his chest and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I only recall three different Knights coming to beat on me, that last one more than the others actually.”

The Agent said something in a language he didn’t recognize but by tone alone he could tell it was a curse. When she noticed the confusion on his face she shrugged, “I wouldn’t have killed him so fast if I had known that.” Aric wasn’t sure why, but that made him want to smile. “My ship isn’t much farther now.”

When they entered the hanger, it was easy to spot which was Naadia’s. The smaller, sleek vessel stood out next to the distinctive Zakuulian ones. The abuse and hunger were starting to catch up to Aric as they boarded the ship, having to lean against the ship’s interior walls as he walked. He stumbled, catching his foot on a step he didn’t see and then she was there at his side.

“Easy,” she said, wrapping her arm around his waist and pulling his arm over her shoulder. “Let me help you. We need to get out of here before the bomb I set goes off.”


Naadia laughed, “of course. Girl’s got to cover her tracks you know?”

“And we have how long until it goes off?”

Stopping their slow, awkward walk, she pulled her glove down to see the chrono on her wrist. “About two minutes.”

Aric grabbed the wall with his other hand and pushed her away, “then leave me and get us out of here.”

Naadia frowned, looking between him awkwardly propped against the wall and where he assumed the cockpit was. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, go.” Aric waved her away, moving to slide down the wall and sit. It was the first time he

had been off his feet since being captured and it was heavenly. He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, intending to rest them for just a moment, as he felt the engines start to rumble.

When he woke. Aric was momentarily confused by his surroundings. Instead of the dark, plain durasteel room he had become accustomed to he was in a white, dimly lit room filled with medical equipment. A soft beeping was the only sound he could hear; a heartbeat monitor he spotted when he turned his head.

“Good morning,” a soft voice on the other side of the room said, pulling his attention over to see Naadia standing up from a chair and walking toward him. She had changed clothes, black shorts and a dark purple tank top that matched her skin the in the dim light. “How are you feeling?”

Aric took a moment to think about his answer, taking stock of his injuries. “Sore,” he answered finally, “but better.”

Naadia smiled down at him, her teeth bright against the dark color she painted her lips. “That’s good.”

Sitting up carefully, Aric watched her for any sign of what she was thinking. He still didn’t know why she had shown up or what her plans were for him now. “So, what’s the deal here, patch me up so your people can break everything again? Want me fresh for the Empire’s version of hospitality?”

To his surprise Aric thought that actually hurt her feelings, judging on how she dropped her gaze and her shoulders slumped slightly. “I don’t work for the Empire anymore.”

“I’ve heard that one from you before,” he scoffed, moving to the side of the bed and standing so he didn’t feel like he was looking up to her. “Tell me then, what did you gain from using me Cipher Nine?”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, all trace of sadness disappearing from her body language as she glared up at him.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Aric asked, knowing that he was poking the beast but unable to stop himself. He had hoped he’d see her on Corellia when they learned through the SIS that Imperial Intelligence has been disbanded and the agents filtered into the military. There had been reported sightings of the elusive Cipher Nine, but she would vanish so quickly no one could confirm. After that rumors of her decommission and death spread.

The thought she died had both saddened and infuriated Aric, he wanted answers and he couldn’t get them from a dead woman.

“I thought that was how you agents did things, giving up your identity for the good of the Empire. Your whole life, even free will, like that code word of yours onoma-“

Aric was only able to say part of the word before she had grabbed him by the borrowed shirt he was wearing and shoved him up against the wall, a knife he hadn’t spotted pressed against his throat. Everything about the set of her face was angry but, in her eyes, he could see the fear beneath her rage. Whatever happened that ended up with that code word in her head, it terrified her, and she was lashing out at him to protect herself.  

“Where did you learn that word?” She hissed easing up on his throat so he could speak, a reversal of their earlier positions.

“Not long after you killed your team on Quesh a bulletin came out, top clearance only. It said anyone who saw you should try using it before engaging you. To bring you in alive if possible.” Carefully, Aric placed his hand on the wrist holding the knife near his throat and she let him guide the blade away. “Why would you let them do that to you?”

Naadia laughed bitterly, dropping her hand and stepping away from him. She sat on the edge of his bed and toyed with the knife, picking under her nails with the tip of the blade. “I didn’t let them do anything,” she said, not looking up as if she needed to pretend he wasn’t there to get it out. “I didn’t even know about the mind control programming until an SIS agent, the former Jedi actually, was forcing me to comply to his wishes. I couldn’t even tell anyone about it until I found a way to break it on my own after months of them using it against me. Along the way I learned that the Dark Council ordered my bosses to plant it in me as a means of control after they failed to keep their own in line and I accomplished a mission I was assigned.” Naadia looked up, set the knife aside and pinned him with a furious glare, “I was good at my job and that scared them, so they put a leash on me.”

Aric wasn’t sure which part of her story horrified him more. He wasn’t terribly surprised that the Empire did something terrible, but to not even tell her? And then to let that sensitive information fall into the hands of the enemy? Worse was that enemy, his people, using it against her. They were supposed to be better than that. It was why they fought to ensure the Republic’s survival.

Few knew as well as Aric how corrupt and amoral some of his fellow soldiers were, he doubted the SIS was filled with saints. The idea of the things they could have made her do; he could understand why she left the team in ruins when she could.

“And me? What did you learn from seducing me?”

“What?” She looked shocked by his accusation.

“Don’t give me that look,” he scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ve been around enough intelligence types to know that there are little boundaries to what is deemed acceptable to do for information.”

“I’m not saying I’m above sleeping with someone to get what I need Aric; my body is just another tool, another means to an end but,” Naadia sighed, pushing off the bed and stepping back in front of him. Aric had to fight the instinct to take a step back, unwilling to give any ground to the Chiss woman he knew was armed and agitated. Moving with a deliberate slowness, she raised a hand and ran her finger along the curve of his forearm. Bright red eyes stared up at him and she smiled. “I swear to you that was not my motivation on that night. You were never a mark Aric.”

Of all the things he had imagined she might say if he ever got the chance to ask, that wasn’t it.

“Then what was?”

She shook her head, “I was lonely and upset, that was not long after learning I had something in my head that let the Republic spies strip me of my will. I was scared and I needed a distraction, anything and you were there.” Naadia laughed, the light sound almost a giggle, “glaring at your glass like it had offended you, looking every bit as angry as I wanted to be, as I knew I would be once the fear faded.” She dropped her hand from his arm and looked down, “going home with you wasn’t my intention, I just thought maybe we could drown our sorrows together. Misery and company and all that.”

Aric remembered that, he was angry that night. He wasn’t sure what it was, something with the upper brass being stupid he was sure. Naadia had been like a breath of sunlight when she slipped into the stool next to him, her skin a beautiful shade of blue, thick black curls framing her face and shoulders. He understood exactly what she meant, about needing a distraction. It was exactly what he had needed that night too.

“That’s it, because I looked mad?” Aric asked, unfolding his arms and taking her face in his hands. He turned her face to look up at him. “That’s the only reason you came home with me?”

Naadia smiled, “of course not. Have you heard your voice? Seen yourself?” She caught her lower lip with her teeth and bit down on it as she eyed him appreciatively, “you are a very tempting man even when you’re mad at me.”

Aric smirked, internally preening under her gaze. “So, you weren’t rooting through my drawers for any information you could find?” This time his question was more teasing than accusatory.

“Oh, I snooped plenty, in every last cupboard - looking for a gravy boat.”

Her response surprised him, making him laugh loudly. “Well if you are ever in need, I have a rather fancy one a secret admirer gave me that I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

Naadia tilted her head, “why Aric Jorgan that sounds suspiciously like a proposition. Are you inviting me for strictly gravy related activities, or could you be persuaded to more intimate activities?”

Aric hummed thoughtfully, moving one hand to the small of her back to pull her closer against him. “That depends, how convincing can you be?”

Reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck Naadia licked Aric’s lips, drawing the lower one into her mouth and biting down just hard enough to hurt. Aric groaned and she pulled back just far enough to grin at him. “I can be very convincing.”

“Care to test that theory?” Aric growled as one of her hands slipped under the hem of his shirt. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the wall with a shaky breath as her fingers brushed over a nipple.

“I thought you were sore.” Despite her words, Naadia continued to trace the circle of his nipple and pulled on his neck so she could reach to nuzzle his neck.

Aric froze at the gesture, one far more Cathar than Chiss, that stirred up his hormones. Briefly he wondered if she had researched Cathar mating rituals or if she had naturally decided to imitate a Cathar scent marking, something that proclaimed ownership. While he’d had his fair share of lovers, Aric had never been close to mating and the gesture reawakened that ache inside that wanted a mate.

Naadia’s lips draw a path from the hollow of his throat to his ear, trailing kisses and nips along the way, before breathing in his ear. “Are you up for this?”

It was only then Aric realized he never responded to her, the pounding of his heart and the arousal curling in his belly had distracted him. Instead of speaking he moved his hands to her ass, pulling her up and guiding her legs around his waist. Naadia laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck to help support herself.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said as he started walking toward the hospital bed and shook her head. “Not here, my room.”

Aric stopped, looking up to meet her eyes at her new vantage and growled, “where?”

“Out the door, turn right, third door on the left.” When he grimaced at the distance, there was a perfectly good bed right there, she ground her hips against his groin. “Unless you can’t hold me that long.”

From the smirk on her face, Aric knew she was taunting him, trying to goad him into giving her what she wanted. Usually that would anger him but at least for today, Aric was content to follow her lead. He was enjoying their progress so far after all.

As he started the trek to her room, Naadia continued her exploration of his features. Her fingers caressed his jaw then traced the shape of his ears, drawing a growl out when she touched the sensitive tips before she replaced her fingers with her mouth. Aric had to stop in the hallway, one hand on her ass supporting her and the other on the wall to keep from falling. He trembled with pleasure as she lathed his ear with attention.

When Naadia shifted in his hold to reach his other ear, Aric tightened his hold on her ass and pushed off the wall. He needed to get them to her room now. She hadn’t asked, but it had been a long time since he’d had a woman in his arms. There had been one, maybe two, indiscretions since their night together but nothing memorable when compared to their tryst. As much as he had hated feeling used by her, part of him had ached with the need to see her again. Now he had her in his arms, her lips and tongue on his body, and he had the piece of mind that she had slept with him not because of his rank but for him. That uncertainty had tainted their first encounter and he was determined not to let anything ruin this second time.

Walking quickly and looking over her shoulder, he finally managed to find the door she had said and after some awkward maneuvering he opened the door. Aric got a brief glimpse of the tastefully decorated room before he located the bed. After that no feature in the room was important. Moving to the bed, he kneeled on the edge and released Naadia.

Naadia frowned when he moved away, reaching for him until he hooked his fingers in the top of her shorts. Lifting her hips, she helped him remove her shorts and panties before sitting up to pull her tank top over her head. She leaned back on her elbows, putting herself on display for his roving eyes.

Aric remembered her body vividly and, despite the weight loss in the years since, she was still as attractive as ever. He had never imagined blue skin would set his blood on fire, but the deep, ocean blue color of her skin was tantalizing. The rosy pink of her nipples and at the juncture of her thighs contrasted erotically and as he drank in her appearance he couldn’t decide which he wanted to taste first.

“See anything you like?” Naadia’s voice was a low, seductive purr as she preened under his gaze.

Aric smirked, he had no doubt she knew the effect she was having on him. “Perhaps,” he said, drawing out the ‘r’ the way he knew she liked. Sure enough her face lit up and she sat up to grab his waist.

“You are far too dressed for my liking Aric Jorgan.” Nimble fingers slid under his shirt, pulling the fabric up toward his shoulders. Aric took the fabric out of her hands and finished pulling ot off as she turned her attention to the drawstring of his pants.

“Did you change my clothes?” Aric asked, realizing he never questioned the clean clothing he had woken up in.

Pulling the tie undone, Naadia smiled up at him. “Does that bother you?”

Dropping his shirt and shoving his pants off his hips to slid to the floor Aric pushed her back onto the bed. Kneeling above her he pinned her wrists to the bed and laid his weight between her thighs. “Not really, just wondering whose clothing it is.”

Tugging experimentally at his hold on her wrists before settling under him, Naadia shook her head. “They aren’t loaners, I brought them for you.”

Aric’s eyes widened as her words sunk in past the arousal clouding his mind. He knew she had some other reason for showing up on that ship but he never imagined he was the reason. Leaning down he kissed her hard, wanting to convey his gratitude to his savior. She moaned, kissing him back passionately while straining against his hold.

“Relax,” he said against her lips, “I’m trying to help.”

Naadia’s breath caught in her throat and she stopped struggling. “Help?”

Grinding his hips against hers Aric smirked at the way she moaned and arched her back trying to get more friction. “You seem to need something. Do you?”

“Yes,” she gasped, wrapping a leg around his waist and pulling his hips down.

Aric could feel the warm, inviting wetness of her arousal against his cock. She felt so ready for him and, if he was honest, he had been ready to take her since she started playing with his ears. “Please say you’re ready.”

Naadia nodded desperately and was only half way through saying “I’m ready” when he slid into her.

Hips flush against hers, Aric buried his face into her neck as he gave them both a moment to adjust to the feeling. She was ready for him, more than slick enough to allow him easy access but she was so warm and tight it was all he could do not to rut against her, mindless of making it a pleasurable experience for her as well.

Naadia’s breath was coming in shaky pants below him as she adjusted to the way her body stretched around him. She wrapped her legs around his waist tightly and said something in Chiss that he didn’t recognize but the tone was enough to know what she wanted.

Releasing her wrists, Aric unwrapped her legs and hooked her knees over his elbows where he was supporting himself. The position put him in complete control and when he rolled his hips her sharp gasp and shiver was enough encouragement to get him going.

Hands now free, Naadia cupped his face and kissed him as he moved above her. The way he had her pinned it was the only movement she could make but Aric couldn’t help but notice that she wasn’t complaining. Instead she was gasping and moaning against his lips in between murmured words, broken strings of basic and Chiss melted together as she lost the ability to stick to words he understood.

Each stroke in and out of her body sent waves of pleasure through Aric, building the pressure in his gut. Her body was so soft and warm beneath him. It didn’t take long for his slow, sensual thrusts to increase in pace and power until he was pounding against her. He leaned his forehead against hers as Naadia held on to his shoulders tightly.

It was obvious she was getting close when Naadia started to shake beneath him. She gasped something in Chiss and tensed, body clenching tightly around him. In the string of unintelligible Chiss she spouted he heard his name more than once.

Moving his arms, Aric let he legs relax in favor of bracing on his elbows on either side of her head. The new position gave him move leverage to increase his speed, thrusting into her hard as she came and drawing out her orgasm for as long as possible. Naadia ran her hands down his back, digging her nails in as she drug them back up to his shoulder and cupped his face again.

“Vacosetahn tur ch'ah Aric,” Naadia said, the firmness of her voice making him shiver with pleasure. He had a fairly good idea what she was saying, but the unfamiliar words on her accented tongue made for an erotic combination in the moment. “Come for me Aric, please,” she repeated in basic.

Her words sent a pike of pleasure through him and started a chain reaction as the pleasure became too much. He came hard, grabbing her tightly as his his thrusts became erratic and he growled in her ear as his whole body tensed.

When the cloud of pleasure cleared in Aric’s mind, Naadia was rubbing her hands lightly up and down him back and humming lightly. He was lying on top of her, head pillowed on her breast, listening to her heartbeat and body completely lax with the relief only sexual release provided. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so relaxed and despite how he ended up there, he couldn’t imagine anywhere else he would rather be.

Naadia moved beneath him, stretching slightly before settling again.

“Not too heavy am I?” Aric asked, hoping she wouldn’t say yes. To say he didn’t want to move would be an understatement.

“No,” she answered, hugging him closer and sighing contentedly. “I needed that, it was sorely overdue.”

Aric chuckled, “I know the feeling.” Before the sleep he could feel nagging at the back of his mind could overtake him, he forced himself to lift his head up to look at her. “What now Naadia? You never did say what your intentions were.”

“Ideally I’d like to keep you,” Naadia answered, smiling for a moment before the expression fell. “Realistically I’d like you to stay with me for a few days, make sure you are fully recovered and then I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Really it’s up to you.”

Aric studied her face and he considered the possibilities. The war with Zakuul had exposed more than a few sides of the Republic that he found hard to stomach but walking away wasn’t an easy choice to make. His brow furrowed in thought, “do I have to decide now?”

Naadia smiled and lifted her head to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “However long you want to take, you are welcome to stay, come or go. I’d like to have you in my life. If that is something you’d want.”

Rolling off her and to the side, Aric pulled Naadia close to his chest. “You really did come all this way just to save me didn’t you?”

Cheeks tinged purple, the way Chiss blush, Naadia let out a shaky breath. “I know what it’s like to be beaten for information and to be left to that fate. I had to try.”

“Glad you did,” he said before frowning, “but how did you know? Are you keeping tabs on me?” Naadia raised a perfectly shaped black eyebrow at him and he laughed. “Right, of course you are.”

Cuddling closer to him, Naadia smile. “I like to keep tabs on the people that matter Aric, whether they know it or not.”

As she settled against his side and satisfied fatigue started to overtake him again, Aric had a moment to wonder who else was on that list before deciding it didn’t matter. He was just flattered she thought enough of him to care.

Chapter Text



Prompt:  “If I could have prevented this moment, I would have.” (Overwhelm)

Characters: Jedi Knight Noara Starsprak and Aric Jorgan

Word Count: 1587

Story: Jedi Sitters

Aric clenched his jaw as he watched Noara carefully out of the corner of his eye. The young woman had come a long way since they had been assigned to escort her but at the moment it was like she had reverted back to those hard early days when she shut them out if something was bothering her.

The Jedi was huddled into her seat, knees pulled up to her chest. Her head was down, resting on her knees. She hadn’t looked up in the near half hour since they left the fort. He knew she was awake by the subtle responses she gave everything he made a comment. This was her first time on Ord Mantell, and he had made sure to point out the landmarks and places he remembered from his time there. If she was interested in the landscape of the planet she had been born on, Noara didn’t show it.

Not for the first time since they had left the others, Aric wondered if leaving Cormac has been a bad idea. The large man was always better at comforting people then he was. But Noara had specifically asked for Aric alone. At first he had assumed it was because he was the only member of their group who had met the Lewtons, except Darvic who of course they all met not long after he joined the reorganized Havoc squad and Juliaddi who came to visit a few times.

The reason she gave him when he asked was so unexpected that he was still trying to wrap his head around it.

“You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father, Aric,” Noara had said, looking up at him with glassy eyes. “I need you there to remind me I have family that would never abandon me if this goes badly.”

Aric hadn’t been able to speak past the lump in his throat and had been forced to just nod his agreement before pulling her into a tight hug when she wiped at the tears in the corner of her eyes. He still wasn’t sure when this bond had formed between them. He knew he’d claimed to be her father when they were looking for her at Torian’s hotel when she didn’t tell them she was staying with her boyfriend overnight. At the time it had just seemed like the easiest way to get the information they needed so he could get back to bed but he couldn’t deny that he felt a paternal instinct where the young woman was involved, a protective attachment that formed before he had realized it was happening.

Being a father was something he had always wanted, but even before marrying Fynta had assumed was unlikely to happen. Now he had a grownup Jedi that was his daughter in spirit, albeit not in blood or legal sense. If adopting the girl properly had been an option, he would have been sorely tempted. Aric knew her well enough to know that the stronger connection would be a comfort to her.

Then to learn that Darvic Lewton, the soldier he had recommended for Havoc Squad, the son of his old friend, was her brother? That Braxtol, a man he had worked with and respected for years had been the one to give her up was infuriating. It didn’t matter to him that he knew the man was a loving and devoted father to his other three kids, or that he learned long ago that they had given their first child to the Jedi. The man had always been so sure that “his” Jedi was happier and better off with them then she would have been with her family.

Before meeting Noara, Aric would have never questioned that or given much thought into how Jedi might feel about not getting to choose their vocation. The last few years of semi-retirement had opened his eyes in many ways.

It had been almost a year since Noara had learned she had a family, a year in which she had flip flopped back and forth between wanting to meet them and refusing to have anything to do with them. She had come around to the idea of today’s meeting slowly and Aric had a suspicion that part of her motivation was the increasingly serious relationship with her Mandalorian.

Nothing quite like the possibility of starting a family could make someone want to know where they came from.

The change in attitude was easy to understand, but Aric couldn’t help but worry about how she was going to react. The way she was hiding in her seat was only making him worry more.

They were less than ten minutes outside the settlement where the Lewtons lived when Aric pulled the speeder over and parked it. Noara raised her head and looked around before frowning at him.

“Is something wrong? We can’t be there yet, right?”

“Almost, just over that ridge ahead,” Aric said, before glancing over at her. “You don’t have to do this today you know that right?”

Noara shook her head, “I do. If I turn back now, I’ll never be brave enough again.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Aric, I’m a failure as a Jedi,” she said, sighing heavily as she stared at the ridge ahead of them. “My whole life long the only thing I knew about these people is that they wanted me to be a Jedi. It was the life they chose for me, regardless if I would want it or not.” Noara paused, dropping her feet to the speeder floor and clasping her hands in her lap. “I always wanted them to be proud of me, to prove that they made the right decision, but I’ve let them down.”

“No,” Aric growled, forcing himself to relax his grip on the speeder’s steering wheel when it creaked in protest. Dropping his hands, he repeated his assertion. “No, you have not let anyone down.”

Noara didn’t reply and when Aric looked over, he saw her clenching her hands tightly her arms were trembling. Gently he laid his hand over hers, forcing her to loosen the death grip she had on her hands, and laced his fingers between hers. If she needed to hold on to something so tight her arms would shake, better his hand. It would be harder for her to hurt him than herself.

Squeezing his hand tightly, Noara gave him a hopeful look. “Do you really think so?”

Aric nodded. “I do. I don’t know much about your life before that doomed mission, but you must have been impressive to be chosen for it.” Noara grimaced and Aric shook their interlocked hands slightly. “I know what you’re thinking, stop it. You are a great Jedi. You had a setback, that’s all, and for you to have come so far since we met? I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

Noara’s eyes widened in surprise and for a moment she could only gape at him. “You mean that?”

“I do.” Aric smiled at her, “no matter what happens today or what they think of you, I’m proud of you Noara. We all are.”

Releasing her hand, Noara flung herself across the speeder to wrap her arms around his neck. Aric caught her, just in time to keep her from landing in his lap painfully. She buried her face into the soft fur of his neck and, emotions finally overwhelming her, cried.

Aric’s immediate reaction was to freeze, he never was good around crying women, but he forced himself past that to hold her close and rub her back. Anything he could think of to comfort her. “I’m sorry kid,” he said when her sobs started to subside. “If I could have prevented this I would have.”

Noara pulled away, wiping at the tears on her cheeks and smearing her makeup. “What do you mean?”

Brushing back her bangs so he could see both of her eyes, Aric smiled as gently as he could. “You deserved to grow up with a family, if there was a way to change that for you I would, but you have one now. You get that right?”

“You mean you guys? Fynta, Cormac, Elara,” Noara smiled, “and you right?”

Aric nodded. “Exactly. I don’t know the exact words but Fynta’s people have a saying. Family is more than blood. We don’t have to share blood, or even race, to be family.” He grinned, flashing sharp teeth this time, “you’re stuck with us kid.”

“Good, nowhere I’d rather be,” Noara said, returning his grin as she started to climb back into her seat. Once she was settled and nodded that she was ready to go, Aric put the speeder back into drive. After a few minutes or driving, with Noara watching the scenery closely, she turned back to look at him.

“Aric, would you mind if sometimes I called you dad?”

Eyes widening in surprise he almost slammed on the speeders breaks before managing to keep his cool. “You really want to?”

Out of the corner of her eyes he could see her nodding enthusiastically. “Please? If you don’t mind of course.”

“I don’t mind,” he answered quickly. “I’d like that.”

Noara reached across the speeder to lay her hand on his forearm and squeeze it gratefully. “Thanks dad.”

The warm light feeling that spread through him at the sound of her calling him dad surprised Aric and he couldn’t stop the bright smile that crossed his face. Yes, he thought, he liked that a lot.

Chapter Text

Prompt: “That is almost the exact opposite of what I meant” (Running)

Characters: Jedi Knight Noara Starspark and Jedi Knight (padawan) Kharma’rok’iza - who belongs to Cinlat technically

Word Count: 796

The wind blew Noara’s hair back from her face as she ran along the mountain trail. It wasn’t a proper trail, more a dirt track that others had created by taking it over and over but never bothered to clear of rocks and roots. She had to jump over gnarled roots sticking out of the ground and avoid loose rocks that would slide underfoot.

Coming to a bend in the trail she slowed, looking over her shoulder before stopping. “Kharma?” she called when she didn’t see any sign of her padawan behind her. Noara was about to retrace her steps to look for the wayward girl before she crashed through the trees and collided with the older woman. They fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Kharma scrambled to her feet quickly, her light blue cheeks coloring almost as pink as her hair as she stammered out curse filled apology after apology. Bracing on her elbows, Noara sat up and watched her padawan fret with an amused smile. She hadn’t been sure she was ready for an apprentice when Kadu broached the subject with her, he had recently had a young Cathar named Thalizy assigned to him and thought it was about time for Noara to take on a formal apprentice.

“Better do it now when you can choose,” he had warned, “or get whatever troublemaker they have left thrown at you.” Kadu had said it with a fond smile but Noara knew that it hadn’t been a welcome interference by the Jedi Council. It worked out in the end and the rambunctious group that made up Havoc and her own crew was a perfect fit for the energetic Cathar.

Noara had resisted for several months before making her way to Tython to find her own padawan. Now she was indescribably thankful she had. Kharma was a blessing, most of the time, and she loved the chiss girl like a sister. It helped soothe her nerves that Kadu was there if she needed help and they often worked with the other’s apprentice to suit their individual strengths.

Once she had gotten over being flustered, Kharma perched her hands on her hips and glared down at her master. “Are you just going to sit there and grin at me?”

Noara laughed, pushing to her feet. “What’s got you in such a bad mood, you were the one who wanted to get out of the ship for a while.”

“This,” Kharma said, gesturing around them, “is almost the exact opposite of what I meant.”

“Running is good for you, Kharma,” Noara said, clapping a hand on the girl’s shoulder, “good exercise and it releases endorphins meaning you won’t be so cranky.”

Kharma brushed her hand off. “Maybe in humans, chiss were not made for running.”

“Oh? What were you made for then, oh padawan of mine?” The amusement in Noara’s voice was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Cold weather,” Kharma snapped, brushing the sweat off her brow. “And casinos.”

Noara laughed, “if you thought complaining about wanting to get off the ship for a while was going to get me to take you to a casino so soon after last time, you are sorely mistaken.”

“It was just one little hand wave, I don’t see what the big deal is.” Kharma folded her arms across her chest, “I just wanted to have some fun.”

“I find this fun,” Noara said, smiling when her padawan huffed irritable and wrapped her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Perhaps you would be more enthused if I told you were this running path leads.”

Kharma looked up at her, red eyes equal parts hopeful and suspicious. “Where?”

“A lake, a big beautiful lake where I am going to teach you how to levitate over water.”

“Why would we do that?”

Noara laughed, “because trust me, lightsaber combat is a lot more fun when you are standing on water. And it hurts less when you get knocked on your ass.”

Kharma hummed thoughtfully, as if trying to decide if this was another trick like the one that got her stuck spending her morning running across the mountainside. “How much farther?”

Noara shrugged. “Quarter, maybe half a click. Wanna race? You win and we can get whatever you want for dinner.”

Stepping away and eyeing her carefully, Kharma smiled. “Even if I want cake for dinner?”

“Sure, just don’t tell Elara.”

“Deal,” Kharma said, turning on her heel and darting down the trail.

Noara watched her disappear around the bend, trying to stomp down her laughter. Her efforts proved futile when a moment later Kharma returned and ran past her, this time heading the correct way. One thing was for sure, taking on an apprentice had definitely livened up her life.

Chapter Text

Prompt: “What about a compromise? I’ll kill them first, and if it turns out that they were friendly, I’ll apologize.” (Allergies)

Characters: Bounty Hunter Dubaku Eze and Mako

Word Count: 450

Mako sneezed, cursing under her breath and making Dubaku both wince in sympathy and smile. Her sneezes sounded painful, the kind that hurt all through the ribcage, but the way she grumbled and muttered curses after each one was adorable.

Not that he was fool enough to tell her that.

“I swear, something here is setting off my allergies,” she groused, pushing forward down the road.

They were headed to a manor hiding back in the woods, one where the potential client didn’t allow anyone to land their ships so they ahd to travel the long way to reach them. The wooded area was populated by small furry creatures Dubaku had never seen before, ones obviously not afraid of people because he could easily see thirty or more milling about the area, and bright purple flowers.

“Any idea what you’re allergic to?” Dubaku was already running through a list of potential solutions. As amused as he was by her misery, he would do anything to spare her from it.

Mako stopped and looked around, frowning. “Those little animals maybe. I am allergic to some rodents, like wamp rats.”

“Right,” Dubaku said, drawing one of his blasters. “I got this.”

“Dubaku!” Mako screeched, grabbing his hand and pushing it to the side to mess up his aim. The shot he got off dinged harmlessly through the trees toward the sky. “What do you think you are doing?” She asked, glaring up at him.

“What does it look like, the little beasts are making you sick so I’m getting rid of them.”

Releasing his hand, Mako sighed. “You can’t just kill them because they might be making me sneeze. What if I’m wrong?”

“What about a compromise? I’ll kill them first, and if it turns out that they were friendly, I’ll apologize.” Dubaku grinned, hoping she would buy his plan but knowing it was a long shot. For a woman who signed up to be on a Great Hunt team, Mako was oddly squeamish about some things.

“What good would that do?” Mako said, laughing, “corpses don’t need apologies.”

Dubaku sighed, putting his blaster away. “Yeah, yeah, it was worth a shot.”

“No it wasn’t,” she said, patting his arm. “But it was a sweet thought. C’mon lets get out of this damn forest.”

“Now that is a good idea.”

Chapter Text

Prompt: “I think we were meant to be, but we did it wrong.” (Water)

Character: Magdalena Vizla

Word count: 905

A/N: This is a follow up to this story from earlier in the month.

The water glass Magdalena had just filled slipped out of her fingers to crash to the floor at her feet. Icy water soaked into her socks as she stared at her datapad in stunned silence. She even refreshed the message box to make sure she hadn’t been sent someone else’s results by accident.

No such luck. After refreshing it three more times there was still only one message addressed to her from the medic she had seen a few days prior, her name was the only one listed on the results. Finally she set the datapad down and staggered over to her bed. Sinking down on the mattress she could still see the words on the screen despite the backlight timing out. Magdalena had a feeling she would still be able to see them if she closed her eyes.


“Fuck,” she said, finally taking a breath since that first sharp one she took in surprise when she opened the message. Scowling, she pulled her wet socks off and threw them across the room. Falling back on the bed she stared up at the ceiling and laid her hands on her stomach.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this.

Magdalena had wanted to be a mother since she had wrapped her head around the concept of family. The memories were distant, faded with time, but she remembered living in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. The coldness was what she remembered the most, being a child and not being treated the way one should. The Mandalorians around her loved their children dearly, especially before they became adults at the young age of 13. Compared to what she remembered about the treatment of herself and the crechemates, children she had put so far out of her mind to keep from drowning in pain as a child that she could no longer remember them clearly, it was a shocking difference.

Shae had saved her, not just from growing up that way but from death. Magdalena had no delusions that she was going to survive that night when she tried to attack the first enemy she saw. Apparently that kind of ballsy, dumbass move was exactly what made Shae see enough of herself in the anklebiter trying to kill her to stay her hand. Enough to take the little brat with her and eventually adopt her.

Magdalena wasn’t sure she could say she loved the woman who filled that hole in her life labeled “mother”. She often wondered if it was possible to love the woman who helped destroy her whole childhood world, and what it said about her that she thought it was. She appreciated Shae for everything she had done for a kid she didn’t have to take with her, for giving her the chance to have a life outside of those drab robes and strict guidelines. If that wasn’t a kind of love, it was the closest she knew.

Now she had given her the chance to have a family of her own.

It was just her bad luck that the father hated her.

Rubbing her her hands over her flat stomach, Magdalena tried not to think about how he might react to the news. If he had been any other one night stand she wouldn’t worry about him at all, but he was Shae’s main advisor. He saw her all the time. Even if she didn’t tell him, the man was more than smart enough to put two and two together when she started to show. Khomo Fett wasn’t the meat headed idiot his enemies often assumed he was, assumptions that generally ended up getting them killed.

One night, not even that, less than an hour of post battle passion and she was going to have to face just how deep his dislike of her went. That was the last thing she wanted. It had been with no small measure of forced confidence and liquid courage that she had responded so smoothly when her first advances were countered with him voicing that dislike.

Inside it had felt like a blow to the gut. She had always felt drawn to the man, like something was meant to be between them. Magdalena tightened her hand on her stomach and imagined what it could be like, having this baby and Khomo raising it with her. She had no hope that he would want to be with her, but he was Mandalorian all the way to his core. He might scorn her but he wouldn’t deny his child.

That didn’t stop her from wishing there could be more in the future for her.

“I’m sorry baby,” she said, addressing the barely formed child inside her. “Things might be a bit strained between your parents but I promise I will love you more than anything. It might be broken from the start, but we’ll be a family.”

As impossible as it was, she felt like her child had heard her and she laughed at the idea. Despite knowing there was a very unpleasant conversation with Khomo in the future, she didn’t regret it. This felt right, like it was meant to be even if they went around it the wrong way.

Magdalena was going to be the mother of Khomo Fett’s child, and at the moment she was sure that if she was never anything else in her life being a mother would be more than enough.

Chapter Text

Prompt: “How many miles/kilometers are we running?” (Frost)

Characters: Jedi Knight Noara Starspark and Republic Trooper Darvic Lewton

Word Count: 801

Noara knew she was being followed, had been since she left the ship, but she didn’t acknowledge the man dogging her steps. Instead she continued her run. While Noara enjoyed space travel and all the opportunities it opened up for her she missed the uniquely satisfying experience that exercising in the wilderness could be.

It had been almost a week since they had arrived on Voss, long enough that Havoc Squad had shown up and Fynta and Jurr had been barred from the cantina in Voss-Ka for their rambunctious natures. Noara had just missed getting added to the ban, but she had been on the ship talking over the holo with Torian. It had been ages since they had seen one another so they had been making do with calls and letters.

It was not nearly as physically satisfying and Noara was grateful for the opportunity to run freely and work off some pent up frustration.

Reaching the river, Noara slowed her pace looking for the best place to cross. Her pause allowed her stalker to catch up.

Darvic ran up beside her and stopped, breathing heavily. “Damn Noara,” he said once he had the breath for it. “How many clicks are we running?”

“We?” Noara asked frostily, raising an eyebrow at him. “I don’t remember inviting you to my morning run.” Normally she wouldn’t dream of being so rude without good cause, but having just learned the soldier was her brother she couldn’t help feeling very conflicted about the man. She both wanted to know everything about him and wanted him to leave her alone.

Darvic sighed. “I don’t understand why you are so mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Noara said quickly, sitting down on one of the large rocks lining the river and fiddling with her hands. “I don’t know how I feel most of the time and I mean that, not even just about this whole mess between us.” It was an unfortunate side effect of being raised the way she was. Emotionally repressed, that’s what Elara had called it.

“Mom does that,” Davric said, gesturing at Noara’s hands when she looked up in alarm. “Whenever she’s nervous or angry and doesn’t want anyone to see it.”

“Oh.” Noara dropped her hands into her lap. “I’ve always done that when I am upset. Master Doran used to chide me for it, said open displays of emotion were unbecoming of a Jedi.”

“Well that’s just dumb,” Darvic said, sitting on the rock next to her. “It’s totally unreasonable of them to expect you to have no emotions. You’re human Noara, just like me.”

Noara laughed softly. “I suppose that is true isn’t it, ‘just like you’. Mo- your mom really does the same thing with her hands?”  Her voice cracked when she tried to say ‘mom’ as in her mom, but thankfully Darvic didn’t mention it.

“She does, all the time.” Darvic smiled, “Bayli has started doing it too, occasionally, but like us she takes more after mom than dad.”

“And the other one?” Noara knew he had mentioned another sister, but couldn’t remember the name he had said. How awful was that, she couldn’t even remember her own siblings names.

“Juli is the spitting image of dad, tan and blonde where the rest of us are pale and dark haired.”

Noara tried to picture that, but since she hadn’t even seen a picture of her ‘dad’ yet she couldn’t. She frowned at the realization, it seemed so wrong that a daughter wouldn’t even know her father if they ran into one another.

“Noara? Are you okay?”

Looking up Noara found Darvic watching her carefully, as if he had noticed the slip in her mood, and shook her head. “I don’t know anymore. How’s that for an answer? It’s a bit weird though, hearing that I take after someone I’ve never met, or even seen. You’d think if anyone was the odd one out of the group it would be me. Sharing looks and nervous ticks isn’t something I expected.”

Gently, Darvic laid his hand on Noara’s shoulder. “I think it’s natural, we didn’t grow up together but we are connected anyway. That’s how family works.”

Noara laid her hand over his and squeezed lightly. “I guess, I’ll have to take your word for it for now.”

Darvic took her hand, standing and pulling Noara to her feet with him. “You’ll see, this is going to be a good thing Noara. Now you never answered my question, how many clicks are we running?”

“You really want to try and keep up with me?” Noara asked, laughing, “is this some sort of sibling rivalry thing I missed out on?”

“Precisely,” Darvic grinned. “No time like the present to make up for lost time harassing my big sister.”

Chapter Text

Prompt: “If you’ll excuse me, I need to create a hangover to nurse” (Duality)

Characters: Magdalena Vizla and Khomo Fett

Word Count: 1390

“You have to tell him.”

Magdalena sighed at her mother’s tone. She knew she had to tell Khomo about the baby, and that it was better to do it before he found out on his own. That didn’t stop her from being afraid of his reaction. She might doubt he would deny the child and pretend they didn’t exist but his reaction to her being the mother of said child? That had the potential to hurt.

“Mags are you listening to me?”

Turning she met Shae’s stare with an annoyed one of her own. “Of course I am, and I will.”

Shae folded her arms across her breastplate. “When? We are going to be landing on Darvannis in a few days and you have to know I don’t plan to allow you in the field.”

“I know.”

Dropping her arms, Shae crossed the room to place her hands on her adopted daughter’s shoulders. “If he falls in this battle he deserves to know what he is leaving behind.”

Irritation deflating, Magdalena nodded. Shae was right, of course she was. The older woman usually knew what she was talking about but that didn’t make it less aggravating to admit. “Right, I’ll go now.”

Smiling proudly, Shae patted her painted cheek. “That’s my girl.”

Despite knowing it was the right thing to do, it was still a struggle to make her way through the large ship to Khomo’s quarters. It was early and there had been quite the party the night before so she figured there was a good chance he was still there. It was that stupid party’s fault she was in this mess. Shae hadn’t missed that her daughter had both avoided the brawls and the booze, two of the young woman’s favorite things. It hadn’t taken much for her to put it together.

Though the surprise on Shae’s face when she revealed the father’s name was a memory Magdalena would savor for a long time.

Khomo, unaware of the changes in their life, had been in high spirits as usual. Always in the middle of things and the loudest most rowdy of all the crew. He had still be going at it with a large zabrak she didn’t know when she left the party, neither willing to admit defeat in a friendly fight. Hopefully he had drunk enough to still be in bed, making him easier to find, and even more importantly she hoped he was alone.

Magdalena had no ideas that she had a claim on the man, and had seen him with plenty women over the years, she just didn’t want anyone witnessing this. Reaching his door, she knocked quickly before she lost her nerves. At first there was no reply then the sounds of someone cursing on the other side of the door could be heard.  

“What?” Khomo snarled, glaring down at her when the door finally opened, before realizing who was there. Expression turning into a smug smirk, he leaned against the door jam. “Back for more already are we?”

Of all the ways Magdalena had imagined this going, him opening the door buck ass naked wasn’t it. She was so stunned by the sight of his body, something she sorely regretted not getting that fateful night, that she couldn’t speak.

Khomo sighed, dropping the smirk. “Look Mags, I am down for another go but not right now. I have a hangover to nurse.”

When he started to close the door Magdalena was stirred from her silence, putting her hand out to stop him. “Wait, that isn’t why I am here.”

“Then what? Mandalore want something?” He asked, scoffing when she shook her head. “Just spit it out.”

Magdalena would have preferred to do this in private, but the hall was deserted enough now it would just have to do. She could tell his patience was thin, as it usually was when dealing with her. Betting on the direct approach being the best course, she did just as he asked.

“I’m pregnant.”

For a moment that seemed an eternity she waited for him to respond, expecting angry rebuffs or insults but instead was startled when he started laughing loudly.

“That’s really funny, but you need to practice lying more. You have far too many nervous ticks to be believable.”

Instinctively Magdalena laid her hand on her stomach as she watched him laugh more at her ‘joke’. She could see the progression of his thought process on his face, from amusement to suspicion and finally ending on shock.

“You aren’t joking.” He didn’t phrase it as a question.

“I’m not.”

Khomo moved from the door and picked up his discarded pants. Pulling them on he glanced over his shoulder hopefully, “and you’re sure it’s mine?”

Hesitantly, Magdalena stepped into the room and let the door close behind her. “There’s no one else it could be. Sorry, I know it’s not ideal.”

“Of course it’s not fucking ideal,” Khomo growled, rounding on her after getting his pants secured. “How were you not taking any precautions?”

“I was,” she snarled, angry as his insinuation that she was to blame. “Those pills are only 99% effective and guess what baby? We are the lucky one percent!”

“Haar’chak Mags don’t call me that.”

“Fine, whatever. I just thought you’d want to know, you don’t have to be involved if you don’t you want to.” Turning, Magdalena went to make a hasty exit. Despite expecting him to be angry it hurt that this was his reaction to learning he was going to be a father.

A large hand wrapping around her wrist stopped her retreat. “I never said that,” Khomo said when she looked back at him. “I just need a moment to process this.”

Nodding, Magdalena let him lead her to the bed to sit together. He released her arm once they were settled.

“Does Mandalore know?”

“She figured it out, said it was the only reason I would be a wallflower at the party last night.”

Khomo nodded, “I did notice you weren’t in your usual spirits.”

Magdalena’s breath caught in her throat. She never imagined she caught his attention when she wasn’t vying for it. “No more parties for me, not for a while at least.”

“You know this child will be a Fett right?” Khomo fixed her with a serious glare, “you may be a Vizla through adoption but there are blood ties to my clan.”

“You don’t have to remind me that I lack blood relatives Khomo, I know the score.”

Khomo sighed at her tone, rubbing his head like he was in pain. “I didn’t mean that, just that any child of mine is just that, mine.”

Magdalena smiled. It was satisfying to know she was right that he wouldn’t deny her child. “It’s early days Khomo, we have time to work all of that out but you should know I would never deny my child their family name. I know what it’s like not to have one, I wouldn’t do that.”

Khomo nodded. “Thanks, that’s good to know,” he said, pushing off the bed and opening a drawer to get a shirt. “Fuck this hangover, I I need another drink. Join me?”

Smiling sadly, Magdalena stood. “I wish I could, it will be a good while before my next drink.”

Finishing getting dressed, Khomo frowned before he realized what she meant and smiled. “I am sure we can find something safe for our baby.”

Magdalena’s heart swelled at his words. It was the first time he had acknowledged that this baby was going to be theirs, not just his. They weren’t together in the traditional sense, but in that one word he had given her hope that at the very least they could be partners in this new chapter of their lives. “Okay,” she said, smiling brightly, “in that case I’d love to join you if only because I am famished. Eating for two starts now.”

Opening the door and gesturing for her to go first, Khomo sighed. “You’re going to have weird cravings, aren’t you?”

“Probably,” she said with a playful shrug, “I craved you after all.”

His laughter at her jab eased what was left of her worries. She would probably be anxious about this whole situation again but for right now the future looked like it was going to be okay.

Chapter Text

Prompt: “You make a sound and it’s game over.” (Misery)

Characters: Impeiral Agent Hendrick Raynott and Kaliyo Djannis

Word Count: 401

“I still don’t see the point in playing if we aren’t making any bets,” Kaliyo groused as Hendrick directed one of his pieces across the board.

“Do things only matter to you if something is on the line Kaliyo?” He asked, only increasing her frustration.

Hendrick was good at that, frustrating Kaliyo. He never seemed to react to her baiting the way she wanted him too. She wanted him flustered and off put by her comments and flirtations.

It had never been a problem before, but she was starting to suspect trying to seduce a spy by her usual methods wouldn’t work. Stupid Imperial.

Moving her own people to avoid the attack range of the one he played, Kaliyo pushed her annoyance aside to grin cockily across the table. “If you have nothing to lose is it really worth winning?” Kaliyo’s grim dropped and she growled as Hendrick’s piece moved across the board and put her’s out of it’s misery.

Hendrick smiled at her over her dead piece, “are you sure you want to bet on a game you are losing?”

Eyes narrowing into a glare, Kaliyo kicked his ankle under the table and laughed when he made a strangled noise at the pain.

“Dammit Kaliyo, what are your boots made of? Duracrete?” Hendrick growled, bending down in his seat to check his ankle.

“Its no less than you deserve for assuming you could beat me.” Kaliyo leaned across the table to poke him in the chest. “I don’t lose.”

“You might need to amend that statement.”

Kaliyo stared at his smug smile for a minute before examining the board. In her annoyance about losing her queen she hadn’t noticed her king being checked. The uptight imperial across from her had won. Looking up to glare at him she could see the barely contained laughter in his eyes.

“You make a sound and it’s game over,” she ground out, deadly serious.

It did not have the intended effect. Hendrick laughed heartily. “The game is already over Kaliyo, I won.”

Standing, Kaliyo leaned over the table – both to give him a view down the neck of the causal top she was wearing and to make sure she had his full and complete attention.

“Not the game I meant,” she purred seductively before pushing off the table and walking away.

If she added an extra sway to her hips that was her business.

Chapter Text

Prompt: awake without them (Anticipation)

Characters: Jedi Dina Volezz and Sith Prince Ari Drellik (who belongs to Cinlat who made the beautiful banner)

Word Count: 1536

Dina pulled her knees to her chest as she huddled against the headboard of her bed. It was late, enough that everyone else was asleep. During the day it was hard to imagine the Zakuulian palace ever being silent, between the constant guard shifts, the twins’ antics and the sounds of someone training – because there was always someone training – the background of the palace was a constant source of the white noise that comforted her so.

Then night would come, and everything seemed to stop. The guard changes were quieter and the large, eclectic royal family retired for the night.

On nights like tonight it was torture. The silence. It was like going back to those dark days when her world was defined by silence, by her inability to communicate with anyone. Days when her mother would shove her away if she approached her and father’s eyes glanced over her like she didn’t exist. The only comfort in her life was her big sister, Rasiel, who comforted her when she was hurt and snuck her medications when she was sick.

The older girl had even tried to teach her to read, but that was mostly a lost cause until she got her hearing implants. After leaving their parent’s home, Rasiel had almost never left her side. She alone knew how the silence terrified Dina.

Even Ari didn’t know how these nights weighed on her. Until Rasiel had moved into Nuada’s room recently, they had shared one, so she could fall asleep to the sound of her sister’s breathing. It was a reassuring sound, one reminding her that she wasn’t trapped in that soundless hell and that she wasn’t alone.

Tracing her finger in mindless circles on her kneecap, Dina hummed softly. The sound of her own voice was the best she could do at the moment, unless she wanted to sneak out of the palace. It was tempting and if she didn’t have one of her fevers she might have. Instead she was restricted to her bed, in a room far too large for one person, in a palace that sounded like a graveyard.

“Why’d you have to move out Ras?” She whispered in the darkness, even though she knew exactly why. Her sister loved the crown prince, they were even speaking of marriage. It wasn’t fair to continue to cling to her anymore. Their entire lives Ras had been the responsible one, the strong one, the one that made sure they had a place to sleep and food to eat.

Then there were the countless times she had tended to Dina while she was sick. When the doctors found her heart problems and the poor condition of her health was finally discovered to be birth defects from alcohol. Their mother drank like an Imperial sailor and being pregnant with her second child hadn’t stopped her from reaching for a bottle at every opportunity.

A sob worked its way up her throat as she realized this was her future. Ras wouldn’t share a room with her again, not as a married woman – and that was one sound she did not need to hear no matter her fears – and for almost half of every day cycle on Zakuul she would drown in silent misery.

Pushing her loose hair out of the way, Dina cupped her ears angrily. “Why couldn’t you just work,” she snarled into the stillness, both venting her frustration and soothing her paranoia, “why even grow ears if they won’t do anything?”

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she shook, her quiet sobs deafening against the silence around her. She wanted, desperately, to go to her sister and take whatever comfort she could get, but it would be selfish to wake her. Dina had even temporarily blocked their force bond as soon as she felt Ras fall asleep, a habit she had picked up in the first few days since the room change occurred. She was determined to stop holding her older sister back from having her own life.

Another ragged sob escaped her a moment before she heard a knock on her door and froze.

“Dina?” She squeaked when Ari’s muffled voice came through the door. “Are you awake?”

Slowly, Dina unfolded her legs and pushed herself off the bed. The room spun slightly as she came to her feet and she braced herself against the bedpost for a moment before making her way to the door. Stopping to make sure her hair was covering her ears, she opened it slowly, she peeked out to see outside her room.

“Oh Dina, do you have a fever again?”

While him immediately knowing she was sick was disheartening, she must look a mess, the genuine concern in his voice made her smile. It was still such a novelty, hearing that in another voice besides her sister’s. “It’s just a mild one,”

Placing his hand against the door, Ari slowly pushed it open further so he could cup her cheek with his other hand. Brushing her tears away with his thumb, he frowned, “then why were you crying?”

“It’s nothing,” Dina said with a sigh as she stepped away from the door. Hit by a sudden wave of dizziness, she stumbled, and Ari caught her.

“Alright, let’s get you back to bed sweetie.” Supporting her with an arm around her waist, Ari helped her back across the room to her bed. Once he had her lying back down, properly on the fluffy pillows and covered in a warm blanket, he sat on the side of the bed next to her. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

Sniffing, Dina turned her head away from him. “It’s really not important.”

“Hey now,” Ari said softly, lying down on his side next to her and turning her face to look at him, “anything that can make you cry is important to me.”

Dina wasn’t sure if it was her fever or her heart condition, but she could have sworn her pulse skipped a beat at his words. She hadn’t wanted to bother anyone else with her problems, but when he looked at her with those beautiful green eyes, she couldn’t deny him. “It’s too quiet,” she said, “it’s like before, when there was no sound.”

Ari frowned, “it was pretty bad back then wasn’t it?”

With how little she had told him about her childhood, she couldn’t blame him for asking. She was ashamed of how much those days affected her still and telling someone who grew up loved and cherished that her parents hated her? That she was definitely not brave enough to do.

Wiping away the fresh tear on her cheek, Ari leaned over and kissed her forehead. “You don’t have to answer that, I’m sorry.”

Dina caught his hand, lacing her fingers between his, and smiled softly. “Please don’t apologize for those people, you’re nothing like them.”

“Good, I’d hate to make you feel like that. So, silence is hard to deal with?”

“I know it’s silly,” Dina sighed, turning her head to stare at the ceiling, “it’s just so hard not to be scared. Implants are imperfect, you know? Someday these are going to stop working and my world is going to be silent again.”

“Dina look at me,” Ari said, waiting until she turned her face down to meet his gaze. “I swear to you, that is not going to happen. If something happens to your implants, we will get them repaired or replaced. Zakuul has the best medical tech in the galaxy, I want to take care of you. Just let me.”

“Thank you, Ari,” Dina smiled softly even while her heart hurt. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate and adore him for what he said, and even more so because she believed him, but just once she wanted to be strong enough not to be a burden on the few people she loved. She was such a mess that Ras was just barely starting to have a life that didn’t revolve around her little sister and now it was like that caretaker position was being foisted onto him.

Fingers carding gently through her hair brought her thoughts back to the moment, to the feel of Ari’s weight on the bed next to her and – most importantly – to the gentle sound of his breathing. It was a soft, comforting sound and filled the silence and settled her nerves.

Dina didn’t want to spend her whole life relying on others, but maybe it would be okay just for tonight. Scooting closer, she wrapped her arm around his waist. “Would you stay with me? I can’t sleep in the silence.”

“I can stay,” he answered right away, before frowning, “has it like that every night? Not sleeping I mean?”

“Since Ras moved out,” Dina nodded, head laid against his chest where she could listen to his heartbeat, “being able to hear her breathing helps.”

Ari wrapped his arms around her and settled more comfortably in the bed. “We can’t have that, not sleeping is going to keep you sick,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “According to Nuada I can even promise to snore in your ear.”

Dina smiled at the thought, “that sounds perfect.”

Chapter Text

Prompt: “You need to take your shirt off.” (Secret)

Characters: Jedi Knight Deena Oran and Doc Kimble

Word Count: 1814

Deena hesitated just before touching the control panel to open the Defender’s airlock.

“Something wrong?” Kira asked from behind her, exhaustion apparent in her voice. Deena was dead on her feet too. It had been a long day, between the travel and fighting she also had a large gash on her side sapping at her strength. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and forget today had ever happened but there was a slight hiccup.

Doc would be waiting for her and the last thing he would let her do once he saw the blood on her clothing was let her go to sleep. She didn’t mind him tending to her wounds, for all his bluster he really was one of the most talented doctor she had ever met. He just tended to fuss and she knew he was going to say something about how he had offered to accompany her into the field and she turned him down.

It hadn’t been an argument really, but she knew he was upset with her when she made him stay behind. Coming back injured would both prove his point and make him worry.

There wasn’t an easy explanation for it, but Deena didn’t like making him worry. Or making him upset. It was almost aggravating how much she cared about his state of mind, especially when she didn’t understand where she stood with him.

Realizing that Kira was still waiting for an answer, Deena sighed and shook her head. “Sorry, just tired.” She pressed her hand against the sensor and the door slid open with a woosh. She motioned for Kira to go first and waited until her fellow redhead was a few steps up the staircase before she followed.

Voices drifted down toward her as she climbed, careful not to stretch the wound on her side more than necessary.

“Where’s Deena? Didn’t she come back with you?” Doc asked.

Deena could almost hear Kira’s eyeroll. “Keep your mustache on Doc, she’s right behind me.”

Doc was still smoothing down his mustache and grumbling when Deena reached the top of the stairs. He dropped his hand quickly when she appeared and started to smile before his eyes zeroed in on the blood staining her shirt.

Instantly he was in front of her, obviously fighting the urge to pull her shirt up for a better look. “You’re hurt, why didn’t you call me?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks, a field medic took a look at it.”

Scoffing, Doc took her by the arm and steered her toward the infirmary. “Field medics are as qualified to practice medicine as I am to practice law.”

Denna laughed before a sharp pain in her side made her stop and press her hand to the wound. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“If you hadn’t gotten injured this wouldn’t hurt,” Doc retorted, depositing on her next to to the hospital bed in the middle of the med bay. “Hop up there gorgeous and let me take a proper look at you.”

Carefully, Deena climbed up on the edge of the bed. Swinging her feet, she watched him flitter around the room collecting supplies. He really did have the finest ass she had ever seen on a man and, judging by how tight he liked that part of his trousers to fit, she was sure he knew it. Doc was more than aware of how handsome he was.

After arranging the supplies he wanted on a tray, Doc brought it over to the table and sat on his rolling stool near her knees. He looked up at her expectantly, as if she should know what he wanted next. He waited for several awkward moments, looking from her side to her face, before waving at her torso.

“You need to take your shirt off,” he said before smirking, “unless you’ve changed your mind about letting me do it myself.”

Deena could feel her cheeks burning at the suggestion but didn’t hesitate before reaching to pull her shirt over her head. The movement pulled at the cut on her side and she hissed in pain. Before she could drop the fabric his hands there, gently taking the shirt out of her grasp and pulling it gently over her head.

When he set her shirt off to the side he flashed her a grin. “Looks like I got to help anyway,” he said, returning to his stool and starting to remove the bandages from her side.

Fascinated, Deena watched his every movement. Doc was never in his element more than when he was practicing his craft. He had told her once that her use of the Force was magical in his eyes, but she found the way he could treat even the most complicated injuries and illnesses all on his own otherworldly in his own way. She had never been able to master the healing powers of the Force, her talents laid more in destruction and deceit.

The Jedi had never specifically told her that Force-nulls were inferior to them but the implication had always been there, hiding just under the surface of almost every lecture, and Deena was ashamed to admit she had believed it. Logically she knew why, she had been raised away from anyone not connected to the Force so all she knew was what she was told and if those people were prejudiced against the rest of the galaxy it was natural she had some of those same feelings. Leaving the temple and exploring the galaxy, for all it’s hardships and pain it had caused her, had opened her eyes to many things.

Watching Doc apply new sutures to her cut where the medic had missed a spot Deena had no doubt her masters were wrong. If anything the way people without the Force compensated for it was a mark of their ingenuity and intelligence. A Jedi healer wouldn’t know how to stitch her closed so her body could heal naturally, aided by kolto and other medications, they relied on the Force. Like a crutch. Deena had never known a day of her life without that power at her fingertips and honestly feared she wouldn’t be able to walk, let alone function, without it.

Maybe that was part of the irresistible attraction she felt for him. He was handsome, charming when he wanted to be, could always make her laugh or blush with a few words, but he was also so much more competent than she ever imagined she could be without her powers. Doc had called it magic once, but the real magic in her mind was all him - his vast knowledge and ability to adapt to any situation but still be light hearted and cheerful when things weren’t blowing up around him. It was a strength she wasn’t sure she had, but wanted to be as close to as possible.

His good looks and the way her tummy fluttered when he was flirting with her was just a pleasant bonus.

As he worked, Deena had to work not to react every time his fingers brushed her bare skin. She was still wearing a band around her breasts and while she often wore revealing tops it was still the closest to undressed she had been around him. It was also the first time she had felt those talented magic fingers dancing along her bare skin. It shouldn’t have been affecting her this way, there was nothing erotic about a doctor treating a wound, but the more he touched her the more she was affected by his touch and nearness.

Deena had turned down all his advances in the past, either by pretending she didn’t understand or by flirtatiously declining as she grew more bold in his presence, but right now she couldn’t quite remember why. Something about attachments and the dark, gateway drug comparisons, but nothing firm enough to hold on to.

So when Doc smiled up at her and declared her once again fit for duty it was the most natural thing in the world to grab the lapels of his jacked and haul him off his stool and into a kiss.

For a split second he was tense and stunned against her mouth and she worried she had crossed a line she shouldn’t have. Then he relaxed and his arms were around her, one on her back and pressing her close to his front, the other cradling the back of her head through her mess of red curls. Deena hummed happily at his response, parting her lips when she felt his tongue press against them.

Her senses were overwhelmed, drinking in the taste and feel of him. Being a doctor didn’t mean he wasn’t in fantastic shape but the delicious firmness of his body against her was a surprise. He tasted like whiskey and apples, like he had been eating one before they returned, and even with his tongue exploring her mouth the idea of a doctor eating an apple made her giggle.

Doc pulled away, chuckling even though he didn’t get the joke. The feeling in the air was contagious and they were both fully infected as Deena continued to giggle. He leaned his head against her forehead, giving her air to laugh but not relinquishing his hold on her. Like it had taken him so long to get that close he wasn’t willing to give it up just yet.

“What’s so funny?” He asked once her giggles had started to subside.

“You taste like apple,” Deena said, another giggle following when he pulled back to give her a confused look. “You know ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away’. How many apples must it take to get away when you are the doctor?”

Doc laughed and shook his head. “The pain meds must be going to your head.”

“No, you didn’t give me any and I refused them earlier.” Deena smiled, pulling him down to kiss him again. “I assure you I am completely aware of what I am doing.”

“I thought you said Jedi didn’t do this.” The hope in his eyes almost broke Deena’s heart, how much had her earlier refusals hurt him? She couldn’t remember why she thought it was the right thing at the time because right now nothing felt more right than being in his arms and his taste lingering on her lips.

“This will just have to be our secret then.” Deena slid her hands up his chest to the back of his neck and kissed him again, “are you good at keeping secrets Doc?”

“Only really really good ones,” he said, kissing his way along her cheek to nuzzle her throat just below her ear.

“Would I qualify?” Deena asked, her voice breathy as he sucked on her throat.

Doc laughed, his breath warm agasing her ear. “Gorgeous you are at the top of the list.”

Chapter Text

Prompt: “I’m not going to apologize for this, not anymore.” (sleep)

Characters: Sith Warrior Tuathal Techtmar and Malavai Quinn

Word Count: 1003

Late nights were often Malavai Quinn’s favorite part of the day. Vette would be asleep and, therefore, completely out of his hair. That made it the perfect time to work on his paperwork, something he found increasingly difficult to do during the day between Vette annoying him and his lord, Tuathal Techtmar, becoming ever more of a distraction with each passing day.

It wasn’t lost on the officer that the Sith he had joined up with was extremely handsome, or that his body was in more than peak condition. Or that the Sith blatantly flirted with him. He knew the other man wanted a more physical relationship between them and if he was very honest Quinn wanted that too. But it was so improper. An underling lusting after his betters, being presumptuous enough to believe he was worthy of a lord of the Sith.

Oh but how he wished for the audacity not to care about what was proper and dignified, just once, to feel his lord’s arms around him.

The sound of a door opening behind drew him from his thoughts and he looked up to see the one reason it was often difficult to work late. Lord Techtmar emerged from his room, clad only in slow riding, loose, black shimmersilk pants. The bare planes of his chest fascinating. Tight, sculpted muscles, perfect pale skin with a tantalizing dusting of hair starting at his naval and leading Quinn’s eyes inappropriately downward.

Snapping his eyes back up, Quinn found his lord smiling at him.

“See something that interests you Malavai?”

Quinn let out a shaky breath at the sound of his name in Tuathal’s deep, accented voice even as he blushed at being caught ogling him.

“It’s entirely mutual you know,” Tuathal continued, moving to lean against the table Quinn was working on. Dark green eyes were so focused on him, he could have sworn he felt it. “I very much like what I see.” He was so close all it would take was leaning a few inches to the side and Quinn would be able to touch him, taste him. The temptation was too much to bare and he pushed away from the table and stood abruptly.

“Apologies my lord,” Quinn choked out before realizing that standing had only placed him closer to the object of his desire. He moved to step away but a hand on his wrist stopped him.

“I don’t want your apologies Malavai, I just want to know if I am wasting my time.” He slid his thumb under Quinn’s sleeve, rubbing it across his racing pulse, “do I have a chance?”

Quinn had to swallow several times before he could speak, eyes glued on their hands and the way Tuathal was touching him. “It isn’t proper my lord.”

“That isn’t what I asked, who is here to judge us on propriety?” Tuathal asked, stepping closer so his chest was just shy of touching Quinn’s. “I can sense your interest Malavai, as much as my own. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“No, you aren’t wrong my lo-” Quinn’s words were cut off by Tuathal’s other hand on his mouth.

“Don’t call me that, not right now.” Tuathal smiled, “not when it is just us. Please, use my name.” Tuathal moved his hand, cupping the side of Quinn’s face instead of covering his mouth.

“Tuathal.” The name was little more than a whisper on Quinn’s lips, but the feel of it in his mouth made his heart race.

“Malavai, tell me if I am crossing a line and I won’t press this again.”

Quinn was struggling to think, Tuathal was so close and what he was saying, asking if he wanted this too. The logical part of his brain was at war with the carnal need to be close to the man in front of him, to give himself over to the arousal burning in his gut. It was wrong, giving into this, and bound to end in disaster. Quinn’s life was not his own, something he would do well to remember when giving into fantasies of what life at Tuathal’s side could be like.

But would it be so bad, just this one, to do something simply for the pleasure of it? The last decade of his life had been hell and if he was honest, not that different from his life before Balmorra except the changing scenery. Even if it was just for a short while, didn’t he deserve to have this?

Tentatively Quinn raised his hand and laid his hand over Tuathal’s heart. He was surprised to feel the pounding beneath his palm. Releasing his wrist, Tuathal placed his hand on top of Quinn’s.


Quinn shook his head, “I shouldn’t want you but I’m not going to apologize for this, not anymore.” As soon as the words passed his lips Quinn wrapped his hand around Tuathal’s neck and pulled him in for a feverish kiss.

Tuathal was stunned still for half a second but quickly wrapped his arms around Quinn, pulling him close and deepening their kiss. Quinn groaned at the feel of finally having his lord’s arms tight around him. He let his hands trail down from Tuathal’s neck, skimming over the muscles in his back.

His body was so warm and while his skin was soft to the touch it was like shimmersilk over durasteel.

Large hands slid down his own black, pulling his shirt up enough to allow the Sith to slip his hand underneath. Quinn trembled at the contact, gasping and pulling away just far enough to catch a decent breath.

While he breathed deeply, Tuathal trailed kisses from his mouth and along his jaw.

“My lo-Tuathal,” Quinn gasped.

Tuathal chuckled lowly in his ear, the sound sending shivers of arousal through his body. “Say my name again.”

Quinn smiled at the order. “I’ll say anything you want Tuathal, just don’t let go.”

“Now that I have you in my arms,” Tuathal said, smiling, “I have no intention of letting you go.”

Chapter Text

Prompt: A hoarse whisper “kiss me” (Hope)

Characters: Noara/Torian?

Word Count: 696

Beautiful art by the amazing Dingoat on tumblr

The horizon was painted in an array of beautiful colors. Noara was sure that of all the planets she had been on, Rishi had the most beautiful sunsets. The sunrise was just as glorious, but she preferred to stay in bed with Torian’s arms around her than rise early enough to see it.

Peering over the edge of the balcony Noara smiled at the many creatures milling about the beach below her. Many of the animals she had rescued and brought to Rishi in hopes of giving them a fresh start struck out into the jungle around their home and Clan Cadera’s base but more than a fair few stayed near the base. Either they felt safe or enjoyed the more readily available food, except her trip of Akk dogs Noara couldn’t say. Those stayed because she had bonded with them through the Force, enough to know there was a shadow of affection between them.

Catra, the oldest and first of her many pets, came over and nudged her legs where they hung off the back of one of the couches that circled the spa. “Hello love,” she said, leaning down to rub her palm across the creature’s hard scales. “Where’s the littles, hum?”

Kaghat and Abesh weren’t the older Akk’s pups but she had claimed them as her pack within days of their arrival.

Knocking her head against Noara’s leg again, Catra made an impatient sound before walking a few steps away, stopping and looking back. Coupled with the physical message, Noara felt a warm tickle in her mind that she recognized as Catra. Obviously she was needed inside.

Noara hopped off the back of the sofa and let herself be led into her home. The large, dark scaled akk guided her through the main room and down the short hallway to the lounge and dining area. She stopped just in the doorway and gasped.

The table had been laid out with candles and fresh flowers, from one of the small gardens lining their property. Several dishes were placed on the table, filling the air with a mouth-watering aroma. Catra moved past her and climbed up on the large, plush sofa on the other side of the room, to cuddle close to the younger akks napping there.

Hands landed on her hips, pulling her back against a firm chest. “You ruined the surprise riduur, I still have to get the wine.”

Smiling, Noara leaned back against Torian and looked up at him. “All this was a surprise for me? What’s the occasion?”

Torian grinned down at her. “It’s our anniversary.”

Noara froze in his arms, mind racing and she counted out the date before frowning. “Torian, we’ve only been married for a few months.”

Moving to stand in front of her, Torian wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. “Not the one I mean.”

Despite her confusion Noara smiled up at him. The candlelight made his tanned skin glow and his eyes were a darker blue than normal. Reaching up she traced her fingers along the scar on his cheek then the curve of his jaw. She loved all the textures of his skin, especially all the varying ones on his face. The raised, smooth surface of his scars, the silky feel of his cheek, his facial hair - prickly where he needed to shave and soft on his chin where he grew it out.

Torian caught her hand against his cheek. “Are you listening to me riduur?”

“Sorry,” Noara laughed. “I got distracted. What did you say?”

“Today’s the anniversary of our first kiss.”

Noara was stunned. She had no idea when they had shared their first kiss, at the time she had been far too stunned by it having happened to make note of the date. “How-why do you know that?” She stammered.

Torian shrugged. “It was important.”

It was funny how, no matter how much Noara loved him, he always found a way to make her fall further for him. Her voice was thick with emotion, far hoarser than normal, when she pulled him down by the neck and whispered, “kiss me.”

Her husband was more than happy to comply.


Bonus Image, this is Noara and her babies:

Chapter Text

Prompt: “You started it”

Characters: Jedi Knight Noara Starspark and Republic Troopers Fynta Wolfe and Balic Cormac (Fynta and this Cormac - and the awesome art- are Cinlat‘s. This is also set in her main story because yes, I am writing fanfiction of her fanfiction)

Word Count: 801

“I still say you started it,” Cormac grumbled, throwing back his shot. He gasped at the burn and leaned back against the sofa, arm slung up along the back behind where Noara was sitting between him and the commander.

Fynta snorted. “I don’t see mashed tubers in your hair.”

Noara turned her head and eyed his bald scalp before looking at Fynta and giggling. There was a large patch of food smashed into the hair on the side of her head. “I’d say you have a point, but he doesn’t have any hair.”

Pointing a finger in her face, Fynta snarled, “don’t argue semantics with me Jedi.”

Grabbing her finger, Noara shook it like she would an offered had and gave a cheeky grin. “You just don’t want to lose,” she said, releasing Fynta’s hand and shifted to kneel on the couch so she could reach better. “Let me get this out and you’ll feel better.”

“A shower would make me feel better,” Fynta groaned but nonetheless allowed Noara to start picking the bits of food out of her hair. “Or another shot.”

“So have another shot,” Noara said, flicking a large bit of tuber off her finger and in the direction of a particularly annoyed looking Theron. He was sitting on the other side of the back room they had chosen, pouring over a data pad and very specifically ignoring them. “you heard Lana, they are repairing the water system so unless you want to go for a swim you are stuck for the moment.”

“I’ll pass,” Fynta said, turning her head quickly and grimaced in pain when the movement pulled her hair Noara had been holding on to. “Shab that hurt.”

Noara laughed, “don’t move when someone’s de-tubering your hair. Cormac will pour you another shot and you’ll feel better.”

“I will?” Cormac said from behind her, still pouting. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

Fynta tried to reach for the bowl of salsa on the table, eager to return to their food fight, but Noara held tight to her head so she couldn’t get to it. The Jedi sighed and looked over her shoulder at the big man child behind her. “Really Cormac? Just pour another round.”

For a moment Cormac considered arguing with the small woman but instead sighed heavily and did as she said. As he poured Noara pulled the last bit of food out of Fynta’s hair and patted her on the head before returning to her seat.

Scooping up two of the shot glasses, Noara handed one to Fynta and grinned at her until she drank it. “Better?”

Unable to resist laughing at her behavior, Fynta shook her head. “Sure, but I still want to dump that salsa in his lap.”

Rolling her eyes, Noara threw back her own shot before moving. In a single, fluid movement, she managed to hop out of her seat, turn and perch on the side of the table with far more grace that someone as drunk as her should have been able to. She grabbed the bottle and took a drink directly from it before making a show of pointing back and forth between them.

“What is going on here?”

Both soldiers folded their arms over their chests and refused to answer.

Holding the bottle out in front of her, Noara started turning the bottle so that it was almost pouring out before righting it again. “Tell me or you won’t get another drink tonight, and yes that is a threat.”

Cormac and Fynta glared at her before he huffed and pointed at his commanding officer. “She cheated. I was going to win, and she cheated.”

“You have no proof. Doesn’t count without evidence.” Fynta smiled smugly at him, earning herself a glare.

Noara waved her hands between them to pull their attention away from one another, “cheated on what?”

“At the shooting range,” Cormac snapped, “she bet me a round of drinks that she could make more bullseyes than I can, but she cheated! I know she did.”

“And that is what this is about?” Noara laughed, surprised by the absurd reason they had turned the cantina into a warzone of flying and ruined food.

“Of course, it is,” Fynta said. “He is insulting my honor.”

“Honor my big shiny ass,” Cormac scoffed, “you just didn’t want to lose.”

“You are both being ridiculous.” Noara shook her head. “My babies in the creche argue over better issues than this. Besides,” she smiled smugly, “you know I am the best shot in room so what does second place matter?”

Cormac and Fynta both stared at her for a long moment before she broke the silence.



“You grab her, and I get the salsa?”


Chapter Text

Prompt: “I didn’t want to go to bed without you.”
Characters: Republic Troopers Tamsin Wharton and Markus Agrippa
Word Count: 679

Note: Tamsin is one of Elara Dorne’s customization options, I just can’t ship Elara with anyone except Balic Cormac so I made him an OC based on this look. Markus is the XO of Cyclone Squad, another spec ops team on the same level as Havoc. What bits of the Trooper storyline I am giving him and not is still up for debate. 

The chrono in his discarded bucket chiming the hour pulled Markus out of his single-minded focus on his rifle. He had gotten it coated in mud while wading through the muck that covered the entirety of Quesh. It was a disgusting planet and going to bed with his rifle smelling of that filth was more than he could bare.

Usually cleaning a rifle was a fairly quick process but the repeated chimes of his chrono informed him it had taken even longer than he had thought. It was well past 0200 hours. 

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair to take stock of his progress. The weapon was serviceable now, though in pieces, but still needed some extensive detailing. Determined to get it done before going to bed, Markus decided some caf and a snack was in order before diving back into the muck.

Heading up to the top level of the Typhoon, Markus was surprised to see the galley was already occupied. Peeking in the doorway he found Tamsin sitting at the counter, reading and running her finger around the rim of a cup of steaming caf.

“Tam? What are you doing up?” His girlfriend and fellow Cyclone Squad member was never much of a night owl, actually they usually went to bed together hours before it got this late.

Tamsin jumped at his voice, looking up and gasping. “Bloody hell Markus, you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Markus grinned at her ire. It never failed to amuse him that she had nerves of durasteel in the field but jumped at the slightest unexpected noise otherwise. Entering the room, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before sliding onto a stool at her side. “You know you love it,” he said, earning a smack to his stomach that made him laugh. “Really though, why are you up?”

Averting her eyes, Tamsin looked down at her caf. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Everything from her tone to the slump in her shoulders were like red flags to Markus, clear signs she wasn’t being honest with him. Gently he turned her toward him with a hand on her shoulder. “What is it Tam?”

“It’s nothing, just me being silly.” Tamsin shook her head, trying to get him to drop the conversation and Markus sighed.

“We talked about this babe, anything that would have you up this late isn’t silly.” It was a conversation they had often, though usually it revolved around his inability to express grief at the loss of his last relationship – and his guilt for being the one forced to make a call that cost her life – but he was pretty sure it was one of those things that worked both ways.

Tamsin grimaced, the way she did anytime he used her own tactics on her. “Fine,” she said, “I didn’t want to go to bed without you. Happy now?”

“Deliriously,” Markus said, grinning widely. When Jaxo had died he had honestly thought no one would ever care about him the way the spunky soldier had or capture his heart as completely. Tamsin, and the no nonsense way she had pulled him out of his self-destructive spiral and encouraged him to pull himself up by his bootstraps, had been a blessing he still wasn’t sure he deserved.

Leaning forward he wrapped his arms around her, Markus pressed his face close to her neck. “I love you,” he said, lips grazing her pulse before he pressed a kiss there.

Laughing, Tamsin pushed him away. “You need to shave,” she said, rubbing her neck.

“Sorry,” Markus said, still grinning. “How’s this, you head to bed, I’ll go shave and come join you?”

“Are you going to shower that Quesh smell off too?” Tamsin asked, scrunching her nose up in disgust before he nodded, and she smiled. “How about I join you instead?”

Markus laughed, standing and pulling her off her stool to follow him. “And this, is why you make the plans in this relationship.”

“Damn straight,” Tamsin said, nodding. “Now get your ass into that shower.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Chapter Text

Prompt: “What kind of care package is this?” (Teasing)

Characters: Republic Troopers Jurr Jiin and Darvic Lewton

Word Count: 1183

Jurr was sitting in the main room of the Thunderclap, sketching on her datapad, when Darvic appeared in the doorway with a large box. Curious, she put her pad down and watched him struggle to carry it through the door. Eventually he had to turn the box sideways to make it fit because the box was wider than the door was.

“What cha got?” Jurr asked as he set the box right side up on the table.

“Package from home,” he answered, grinning. “My mom likes to send care packages, it’s like she thinks I can’t take care of myself but it’s sweet that she worries.”

Care packages were something Jurr had heard about, in her quick rotations in and out of various comapnies and squads she had seen more than a few come in. It was always an exciting event, seeing what their families had sent them. It was a stark reminder she didn’t have anyone to send her a package but also a glimpse into a family dynamic she’d never had.

“Can I see what’s in it?” Jurr asked, hoping that wasn’t crossing some line. She hadn’t known Darvic long, at least she didn’t have many memories of the young man, but she knew he was fiercely protective of anything about his family. To her relief he grinned at her request.

“Of course, and maybe she sent some goodies.” Darvic pulled a knife off his belt and started carefully cutting the tape around the edges of the box, talking while he worked. “Last time she sent me these homemade marzipan candies that were shaped and colored to look like fruit. It was like heaven in your mouth.”

Frowning as she tried to remember what marizapan was, and if she had ever had it, Jurr stood to get a better view as Darvic pushed the flaps of the box away to reveal… another box? Confused, she looked up at him and was surprised to hear him laugh.

“Or,” he said, pulling the slightly smaller box out of the original box, “this might be from one of my little sisters.”

“Which one?” Jurr was fascinated by his relationship with his siblings. Sure for everything that mattered Trev was her brother and Kadu had siblings he vaguely remembered but Darvic was the one in the crew who had three sisters. Two he even grew up with and Jurr couldn’t imagine what that was like. She loved hearing the stories about the bickering and pranks that went on in their house as children.

Someday she hoped to meet the two younger sisters, though she had met the older one. Noara was nice enough, but a bit touchy and withdrawn for Jurr’s taste but she couldn’t blame the woman for it. Like Jurr she had some horrors in her past that she didn’t have to luxury of forgetting everytime someone cleaned her clock.

“My guess would be Bayla.” Darvic had cut open the second box to reveal a third smaller box. “Juli hasn’t sent me anything in, well, ever.”

Jurr reached out and poked the side of the newer box. “What kind of care package is this?”

Darvic grimaced. “I am being teased, that is what this is,” he said, elaborating when Jurr stared blankly at him. “It’s a common gift prank, you put a box inside of a box and then into another box over and over. That way the person who gets it thinks they got a large gift but really it’s something small enough to find in the starting box.”

Despite his obvious annoyance at the prank being pulled on him, Jurr grinned. “So it’s a mystery until you get to the bottom?”

“You don’t have to look so pleased about it,” Darvic grumbled as he opened the next box. “I thought my mom had baked for us.”

While home baked goods sounded amazing, another thing Jurr had never experienced, she was excited to see what would be in the last box of this series. She sat on the edge of the table and watched eagerly as he discovered box after box. By the time he reached a box about the size of a shoebox there was eleven empty plasboard boxes littering the top of the table and floor.

Fully expecting to find another box, Darvic tossed it over to Jurr. “Here you open it,” he said, frustration obvious as he threw himself into a chair to survey the mess he had made. Some of the boxes had been such tight fits he had to cut the larger one off of the smaller one.

Retrieving her own knife, Jurr ct the box open and pushed the flaps back and stared at the contents.

“What?” Darvic groaned, “please don’t say it’s another box.”

Jurr looked up and smiled sheepishly. “That’s be lying,” she said, giving him time to react by cursing and dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling before adding, “but this one is different.”

Darvic’s head snapped back to look at her. “Different?” He asked, intrigued, “how?”

Turning the box in her hands so he could see the contents, she frowned, “what’s a screaming tree goat?”

Scrambling out of his chair, Darvic snatched the box out of her hands and removed the final, printed box. On it was a picture of a tree got, mouth open wide and a speech bubble proclaiming “AHHHHH!” in it. He tore that box open to reveal that, true to the picture, it contained a small figure of a tree goat. On it’s back was a little button that said “press me”.

While Darvic stared at the goat in his hand and shook his head, Jurr leaned over and pressed the button.

The high pitched scream that cut through the room made her jump before she started to giggle. The offended expression on Darvic’s face only made her laugh harder. “So, uh,” she gasped out between peals of laughter, “why would Bayla send you this?”

Sighing, Darvic set the goat down on the table and pulled out his datapad. After punching a few buttons he handed it to her and pressed play on the video he had pulled up. Immideatly a smilar scream came from the goat in the video, repeated over and over. If the title of the video was correct there was 10 hours of screaming to watch.

Darvic let it cycle through a few scream cycles before taking the pad back and pausing the video. “I showed this to her last time I was home, thought she’d find it funny.”

Jurr frowned at the goat and then up at him before smirking, “so you have no one to blame but yourself.”

Glancing around the mess and picking the goat back up, Darvic sighed. “True, but you know what this means right?”

Jurr shook her head. She honestly had no idea where he was going with that.

“I need a hand getting her back for this, what do you say partner?” Darvic held out his hand and grinned when Jurr took it with an equally excited smile.

“She’ll never know what hit her.”

Chapter Text

Prompt: “Running seems to be all you’re good at”

Characters: (future) Republic Trooper Jurr Jiin and a brief cameo by Jedi Master Vukosh

Word Count: 1987

Jurr scrolled through the list of requirements for enlistment in the Republic Army and forced herself not to frown. She had been trying to get better at schooling her emotions, mostly to hide her almost constant state of fear and confusion, because she needed to be able to hide her condition, but the further down this list she got the more she felt her heart sinking.

It wasn’t the physical requirements that concerned her as much as it was the mental skills test. She had started physical training not long after she had realized that elisting was the only way for her to escape the medical facility that felt more like a prison than a home. Not that she had any idea what home meant, it was just one of those words she heard from time to time. It was where the other patients all went when they left, something she had only recently been able to retain.

Her memory had stabilized in the last few years, less mid day resets and total losses, but she was still missing large swaths of time. Like those developmental years of growing up, when she should have been learning and growing as a person. Doing all those things people do to become successful adults.

Those were a complete blank instead of the springboard into life they should have been.

Instead she was, well, she had no idea how old she actually was just a rough estimate that she was about sixteen, and couldn’t even tell someone how to tie a knot. She could do it, muscle memory seemed to be the only thing she could count on in her fucked up life, but if someone asked her to describe the process from memory along she wouldn’t be able to.

Jurr could run, jump, do push ups and pull ups and every other physical requirement the military had but there was two major hiccups.

They required a general education certificate. If Jurr had ever attended school, she didn’t know it and certainly had not finished or earned any proof of such. Then there was the test, one that covered what they claimed was “general knowledge” but might as well be a very obscure dialect of, well, any language other than Basic.

Dropping the datapad on her bed, Jurr let her head fall heavily against the wall behind her. “Face it Jurr,” she muttered to herself, “running seems to be all you’re good at.”

It was like all the air had gone out of her, she felt so defeated. This was her one and only chance to get out of these endless halls, to see the outside world. The facility had an indoor garden but the planet was buried in snow and ice. In theory Jurr knew she had been outside the hospital, it wasn’t where her injury happened after all, but since her arrival she hadn’t stepped foot outside that she could remember.

The white walls and endless hallways, exam rooms and surgery theaters - as far as Jurr knew that was the extent of the whole galaxy. All she would ever know, for however much her broken mind would be able to hold on to.

With a frustrated growl she pushed herself out of the bed. It was like something snapped inside her as she looked around the small room, walls covered in posters and reminders about her condition and daily routines. She couldn’t do this. Not anymore. This wasn’t a life, being a living experiment for the researchers, being alone all the time, and she couldn’t face another day of it.

Shoving the few things she couldn’t leave behind into a bag didn’t take long, there was little she thought of as being ‘hers’. Really anything she had belonged to the facility, but they wouldn’t miss a few sets of patient pants and shirts or even the datapad that she relied so much on. Not as much as they would miss fiddling with her brain.

Jurr slung the bag over her shoulder and left her room. It was a testament to how much no one noticed her or cared that no one stopped or questioned her on the way. She tried to ignore how much that hurt, it was an old familiar pain even when she couldn’t really remember having felt it before.

Despite having never been outside the hospital, Jurr managed to find the way out easier than she expected. It was like the bright, glowing signs directing her toward the exit were calling her, urging her to continue. When she could see the final door, Jurr grinned and laughed as she started to run down the hall.

This was it. Finally. She was taking her own life into her hands and was going to make something of it. Even if she failed it would be better than staying here. She hit the door at a run, crashing through it before slipping and falling hard.

Jurr gasped as she pushed herself out of the cold material she had fallen into. It was wet as well as cold, soaking her thin clothing through to the bone. Shivering she sat up and looked around. As quick as the snow, what she assumed to be snow, sapped the warmth from her body all the hope she had felt at the idea of leaving was gone.

There was nothing out here. Just ice and snow for as far as she could see.

“It’s not fair,” she said, voice carried away by the frigid breeze, “I can’t even run away.”

Defeated, Jurr sat down against the door and pulled her knees to her chest. Distantly she knew if she stayed out there too long she’d get sick, which would mean more procedures and medications, but couldn’t bring herself to care.

Jurr lost track of time as the cold seeped into her, chilling her inside and out. It was until her datapad started chiming that she was shaken from her stupor. Hands trembling from the chill, she pulled out the device and turned the screen on before frowning at the notification.

There was a new message for her but Jurr never got messages. She didn’t know anyone who would write to her.

Curious and half-sure it would be an automated spam message, she opened the file. A video autoplayed before she could stop it.

“What’s new JJ?”

The boy in the video said those words and the oddest thing happened. The anxiety in her chest relaxed and she felt warm despite the cold around her. Moving the pad closer to her face, she studied the boy intently with her eye. He was the strangest person she had ever seen. Purple hair and more facial implants than even she had, at least visible ones but his eyes were kind. So was his smile.

Jurr didn’t know who this was, but she liked him

“I don’t have long so I hope you don’t mind a video instead of a letter,” he continued as she settled back against the wall to listen. “I just wanted to check in with you, make sure you’re okay. I… I miss you and I know you’d hit me for it but I worry.”

Whoever he was, he was right. Jurr did want to smack him for that but she also kind of wanted to hug him. It was like somehow he had known she wasn’t okay. That was insane of course, there was no way this random guy could know how she felt. No one did.

Didn’t stop it from feeling like it.

Something from behind the boy caught his attention and he looked over his shoulder before frowning at the camera. “Sorry it’s short but I gotta run JJ. I’ll visit as soon as I can. Take care of yourself sis!”

Jurr stared at the datapad in shock as he winked out of existance. He called her sis but that couldn’t be right? Could it? Frantically Jurr accessed her inbox properly, not just the pop up that showed the new message. There were letters and videos there, all from the same address. Checking another video confirmed it was all from the same strange person who called her “JJ” and “sis” but no where was his name revealed to her. Hoping that somewhere he would have said his name, she started reading and watching each message in her inbox starting from the newest one.

It wasn’t until the datapad was warning her about it’s low battery that she realized her fingers were starting to turn blue and she needed to go back inside, whether she wanted to or not.

Sighing Jurr pushed to her feet, wincing at the numb feeling in her limbs. She stumbled when she tried to take a step, barely catching herself on the door before it swung open and she spilled inside and onto the floor. This time when she tried to push to her feet, she couldn’t. Her limbs had decided not to respond to her any longer but she was oddly okay with that. She was tired, more than she had noticed before trying to get up, and now was as good a place as any to nap.

She was on the verge of sleep when she heard someone shouting from down the hall. Jurr tried to tell them to be quiet but everything went dark before she could.

Warmth was the first thing Jurr noticed as she started to wake up. That and the beeping of a heart monitor that sped up as she realized she didn’t know where she was. Forcing her eye open she lifted a hand to touch the left side of her face, panicking when she realized she could only see out of one eye. Instead of the blinded eye she expected to find there was a metal plate.

Tracing the piece of metal, she tried to pull it off of her face. Her breathing had started coming in short, quick gasps as the heart monitor sang shrilly.

Suddenly hands on on her, forcing her to stop praying at the plate from her blind spot.

“No!” Jurr cried, “it’s covering my eye, get it off! Get it off me!”

“Jurr stop it!” A firm voice commanded, cutting through her panic as she froze. Turning she saw a large man looking at her with a sad expression. She wasn’t sure what he was, but with the large horn like growths on his head he couldn’t be human. “You need to relax child.”

Jurr frowned, and whispered, “but I can’t see.”

Returning her frown, he approached slowly and stopped at the side of her bed. “You only have one eye Jurr,” he said, his voice careful like he was speaking to a frightened animal.

Swallowing hard, Jurr dropped her hands and tried to process what he had told her. It didn’t seem possible but when she tried to search her memory for an image of her face she couldn’t recall anything prior to waking up.

Looking back up, intent on asking the man if he could explain how she got here, Jurr noticed him holding a datapad out to her.

“I took the liberty of getting this charged while you slept, take some time to read the notes and it should help you understand what is going on.” The man smiled kindly, inclining his head slightly before leaving the room.

Still confused, Jurr settled back against the curtains and turned the pad on. The first screen it displayed was a infographic of some sort “Uncle Zam Wants YOU For The Republic Military!” It proclaimed boldly across the a picture of a man more strange looking than the one that left, with a ring of small horns circling his head like a crown.

Curious she scrolled down the graphic to read the details on it before smiling. “The Military huh? That could be fun,” she said, thinking outloud. “Wonder what it takes to get in?”

Chapter Text

Prompt: I hate watching you do this to yourself (Uncomfortable)

Characters: Rugama Neiu and Theron Shan

Word Count: 1173

Sleep was eluding Rugama. She wasn’t sure if it was leftover energy in her system from the day of action or the unfamiliar bed in the Rishi safe house. Once she wouldn’t have considered that a possibility because most of her life had been spent sleeping on a stone floor. The first few years after being sent to Korriban the realistically poor quality mattresses in the dormitories had been too soft for her to sleep. Now she was not ashamed at all to say she was very particular about her bed and only the highest quality mattresses and bedding was acceptable.

In that light, the bed was probably the reason she couldn’t sleep. Either was it was the middle of the night and she was wide awake.

Thinking it might be nice to see what the stargazing was like on Rishi, Rugama headed toward the safe house entrance only to stop in surprise when she saw that she wasn’t the only one awake at this Force-forsaken hour.

Really it shouldn’t be a surprise, Rugama was still getting to know Theron but she definitely knew he was a workaholic. Adding insomnia wasn’t much of a stretch either, judging by the bags under his eyes. He looked up from his datapad as she entered the room and jumped in surprise.

“What are you doing up?” He asked, voice sharp as he tried to control his breathing before trying again after she arched an unamused green eyebrow at him. “I mean, why are you up so late?”

Shrugging, she crossed the room to lean against the table he was sitting at. “Can’t sleep, might have been a better idea to head back to the ship after all.” Rugama sighed, thinking about the bed waiting for her back on the Deliverance. Brushing that thought aside she gestured at his datapad. “What has you up so late?”

“What else,” he grumbled, sliding down farther into his chair. “Revan is up to something here, we know it, but I just can’t find any proof of it.”

Rugama nodded, folding her arms across her chest. “Right, Revan. You know we won’t lose just because you get a few hours of sleep, right?”

“You don’t know that.” Theron mumbled, returning his attention to his datapad.

Leaning forward, Rugama laid her hand on top of the pad and pushing it down into his lap until he looked back up at her. “You really should rest Theron,” she said softly as he glared up at her.

The tightness of his eyes relaxed in surprise and he stared up at her before shaking his head. “Why do you care anyway?”

The question hurt more than it should have, but she couldn’t blame him. It was obvious that Theron was uncomfortable about her position as a Sith. He had told her she was one of the least “sithy” Sith he had ever heard of, but she was still marred by that in his mind. It was also a confusing one, because while she did care she didn’t understand why.

Desperate to give him some of an answer, an honest if not complete one, she sighed, “I hate watching you do this to yourself. It’s like you are taking the whole weight of this on your shoulders but you aren’t alone this time.”

“You don’t get it,” Theron snarled, pulling the datapad out from under his her, before his shoulders slumped. “I have to do this.”

Rugama studied him for a moment, despite the exhaustion in his posture she could see his stubborn determination. She wasn’t sure anything would convince him to head to bed, except perhaps a hard blow to the head. Really she didn’t consider it, but she was sure it would work. Coming to a decision, she pushed off of the table and patted him on the shoulder as she walked past.

“Heading back to bed?” Theron asked, turning in his chair to watch her walk away.

“No.” Rugama didn’t explain further, instead she just started refilling the caf machine.

“What are you doing Ru?”

Back facing Theron, she smiled at the use of her nickname. Only Andronikos and Ashara had ever called her that, a sweet gesture that made her feel warm inside. That alone made her feel like she was making a good decision.

Pouring two fresh mugs of caf, Rugama rejoined Theron at his table. She handed one to him before Force pulling a chair over to sit by his side. “If you are going to be up all night the least I can do is keep you company.”

Theron laughed, and reached for another datapad and held it out to her. “No the least you can do is read over these intercepted communications for any hint of Revan’s plans.”

Hesitantly, Rugama took the datapad and frowned at it. “I can try, but I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

Pausing with his caf mug halfway to his mouth Theron gave her a confused look. “What do you mean, from everything I have heard you are quite clever.”

“Thank you, but,” Rugama paused as she stared down at the datapad before looking up sadly. “I’m not much of a reader.”

Theron mulled over her words while he drank some of his caf, smiling as he set it back on the table. “That surprises me, I always got the bookworm feel about you.”

Rugama nodded, setting the datapad down because she couldn’t stand to have those words staring up at her anymore as he scarred cheeks burned red. “Oh I am, I love books. There is so much they can teach you but I have a program on my ship that narrates the downloaded text that I read along with.”

“Funny, that’s how I learned how to….” Theron’s eyes widened as he looked up from his datapad to her.

“What can I say,” Rugama shrugged halfheartedly, “reading wasn’t a high priority for a slave like me.”

Theron stared, eyes wide, at her long enough to make her fidget uncomfortable before he gave her an awkward, forced smile. “No worries,” he said airly, “this is all boring as shit but I could read aloud if you want to follow along? Maybe that clever mind of yours can pick up something I’ve been missing.”

“You wouldn’t miss things if you let your brain rest every once in a while,” Rugama replied, smiling despite the harsh words, and moved closer so she could see the datapad better.

Theron grumbled irritably at her teasing. “Yeah, yeah, do you want me to read to you or not?”

“Yes please,” Rugama said, all trace of her earlier bite missing in the soft spoken request.

“That’s what I thought.”

Rugama could see Theron’s smile out of the corner of her eye as she leaned her head against his shoulder. He was sassing her, as usual, but she could tell he was becoming fond of her. It was a completely mutual feeling as he started to read and she lost herself in the soothing sound of his voice.

Chapter Text

Prompt: “I miss moments like this more than anything.” (Companion)
Characters: Sith Warrior Tuathal, Valkorian and Cinlat's Sith Inquisitor Ma’at Stasma (kinda)
Word Count: 521

“Moments like this,” Tuathal sighed, relaxing further into the arms wrapped tight around him. “I miss moments like this more than anything.”

Tuathal knew there was nothing real about what he was experiencing, that it was a vision fabricated by the parasite that had latched onto his soul in an attempt to lower his guard. It was foolish to linger, to give that monster this chance to anchor himself deeper into his mind, but the temptation and his desperation was far too much to resist.

Ma’at’s arms around him, even as a ghostly illusion, was the closest he had come to having a companion since his entire existence had been restricted to his mindscape.

“You could have this again,” Valkorian said, his voice like a bucket of ice dumped on Tuathal’s head as the apparition in his arms dissipated. “Together, you could have everything you want.”

Tuathal sighed, heart dropping along with his arms, and grimaced. “If you recall I have already told you that will never happen.”

The emperor, wearing the form of an old man, whipped around and glared at him. “Don’t test me Wrath, you live only because I allow it.”

“We both know that isn’t true,” Tuathal said, turning his back on Valkorian. “You are powerless outside of my mind, this hell is as much your prison as mine.” His attempt to walk away with the little dignity he still had was ruined by a sharp wave a pain throughout his body, driving him to his knees with a gasp. He didn’t even have to wonder what this was, he already knew.

He was dying, had been since waking up in his personal torture realm. It won’t be long now, Tuathal thought as he struggled to breathe. Death was looming over him and he was losing the will to fight it. He didn’t want to give into it, but his strength waned with every passing moment.

Just when he thought he couldn’t handle anymore pain, it stopped. As he slowly came back to himself, Tuathal could sense the emperor’s shade watching him. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know there was a smug expression on the bastard’s face. The Sith took great pleasure in Tuathal’s suffering, both physical and emotional, the heavier tolls it took on him every time, and the way Tuathal was slowly slipping into insanity.

What else could it be, the way he thought he felt Ma’at at his side despite knowing it was impossible? His grasp on reality was slipping as he continued to be trapped inside his mind, fighting for his life against the demons of his past.

Grunting he pushed back to his feet and continued to walk away from the dark presence at his back. Even if he couldn’t truly escape it was reliving to put some distance between himself and the emperor. It wouldn’t be long now until the cycle started over, Valkorian’s manipulations and the gauntlet of enemies he fought regularly, and he wanted to try and find a moment of peace before then.

Even if he knew his efforts were, as always, invariably futile

Chapter Text

Prompt: “That doesn’t even make sense!” (Laughter)
Characters: Sith Warrior Meleri Sayir and Theron Shan
Word count: 657

Theron frowned when the keypad rejected his code. For a moment he considered just slicing his way in, but he was on thin ice with Meleri already. Giving her another reason to be angry with him was the last thing he wanted, especially after she had agreed to give him a second chance. 
It felt awkward, knocking on his own door, but he had no one to blame but himself.

After he knocked it took several moments before the door opened, long enough he considered knocking again. When Meleri opened the door, he had his hand raised to do just that. Awkwardly he dropped his hand while casting an eye over her appearance.

Dressed in a silky nightgown and with her hair, the once long locks he loved so much cut brutally short, brushed out and washed, Meleri was obviously ready for bed. Theron’s gaze lingered on her figure long enough that she cleared her throat to bring his attention back to her face – and the glare she had leveled at him.

“What are you doing here Theron?”

The chill in her voice almost made Theron take a step back. “Coming to bed, I thought…”

Meleri arched a snow-white eyebrow at him. “You really thought you were still welcome in my bed? How presumptuous of you.”

Theron gaped at her, heart dropping into his stomach. “I thought you said you’d give me a second chance?”

“And you have one,” Meleri said quickly, “to earn my trust again.”

“How can I do that if you send me away?” Theron asked, truly confused, “that doesn’t make any sense.”

“And trying to kill me to ‘save’ me did?” Meleri snapped, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, “I don’t let people I don’t fully trust into my bed Theron, not anymore. I’ve made that mistake often enough to know better now.”

Theron tried to step closer, wanting to do anything to stop her from crying, but she stopped him with a raised hand. Before this mess he couldn’t imagine his hard hearted Sith crying over anything, the idea that he was the thing she would cry over was devastating.

“Meleri, love, I am so sorry,” he apologized, trying to convey how much he meant it. The last thing he had wanted when he conceived his plan was to hurt her. “Just once I didn’t want the weight of the galaxy to be on your shoulders, I wanted to be the one to save you.”

“Are you even listening to yourself Theron?” Meleri scoffed, folding her arms across her chest with a huff. “You tried to kill me Theron. You told me you wanted me dead… you betrayed my trust on every level. You can’t possibly expect that wasn’t going to have consequences.”

“I know,” Theron sighed heavily. “I made a horrible mistake; it was stupid of me to keep you in the dark. You do always say I shouldn’t be in charge of making plans.”

Meleri laughed, a dry humorless sound, and shook her head. “No, you shouldn’t. Never again.” Pausing she looked over her shoulder at the room then once shared before turning back to him with a sad expression, “I want to try this again Theron, try getting it right, but I need to know I can trust you. That’s going to take more than an apology and a few days of you in the infirmary. For now, it’s probably best that you bunk in your old room.”

Theron swallowed past the frog in his throat. He couldn’t fault her for needing space but that didn’t make the guarded expression she was watching him with hurt any less. He wanted to beg her not to send him away, after so long he craved her nearness like an addict in need of a fix, but instead he nodded.

If time was what Meleri needed, he was willing to wait a lifetime to prove himself to her again.

Chapter Text

Prompt: “There was nothing more you could have done.” (Fear)
Characters: Jedi sisters Dina and Rasiel Volezz (Ras, right in the picture, is Cinlat's)
Word Count: 668

Dina stared at the well-dressed man while she tried to understand what he was telling her. No doctor had ever told her what the root cause of her health problems was. Before getting her implants on the few occasions she saw a doctor there was no way for her to communicate and after she either hadn’t been in any state to ask or could tell the doctor was keeping something from her and hadn’t pushed out of fear.

Malavai Quinn was not the kind of medic to keep his patients in the dark and honestly Dina sort of wished he was.

“Are you sure about this?” Rasiel asked, laying her hand on Dina’s shoulder and saving her younger sister from having to try and speak around the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.

“Unfortunately, yes,” the former Imperial officer replied, consulting the pad in his hands. “Your sister displays several symptoms that support my diagnosis, the main ones being her delayed growth, hearing loss and the damage done to her heart that affects her health so much.”

Every word he said was like a blow to her chest, making Dina feel like she couldn’t breathe. Normally she would object to being spoken about like she isn’t in the room, but she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs to speak. She didn’t realize how quickly her gasps were coming until Rasiel was rubbing her back and telling her to take slower breaths.

It wasn’t until she had calmed down that Dina realized the doctor had left to give them some privacy. She turned toward her sister and tried to speak, finally managing a hoarse whisper. “Did you know? That-that she did that I mean?”

Rasiel sighed heavily, “I suspected but didn’t know for sure. I should have realized.”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Dina said, patting her sister’s hand on her shoulder. “There was nothing more you could have done, you were just a child. Probably didn’t even know a pregnant woman shouldn’t drink.”

“Still,” Rasiel persisted, “she always had a drink in hand, I should have put the clues together before now.”

Dina dropped her gaze to her lap. “Would it have made a difference? Knowing doesn’t fix me.”

Hands on the sides of her face forced her to look up and meet Rasiel’s eyes. “You are not broken.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” Dina muttered, frowning. “I just don’t get why mother would do this to me.”

“You know she never was much of a mother, to either of us.”

It was true, even before Dina could hear the derision in her mother’s voice, she could see it in her face. In the way she avoided touching her children at all costs and never. She’d put the memories out of her mind in the years since she last saw their parents but recently it had been difficult not to think about it. Not when they were surrounded by the Techtmar family that was everything their’s had never been. The matriarch, Ma’at, was shocking to Dina in the way she never seemed to run out of love to share with those around her.

Tears filled her eyes as she remembered the way Ari’s mother had hugged her when they met, the way her mother never would.

“Dina? Are you okay?”  

Dina shook her head, “I don’t know. I’ve never been under the delusion that mother loved me Ras, but how could she hate me so much before I was even born? I have to live with this for the rest of my life, the reminder that she didn’t mind hurting her baby.”

“I know,” Rasiel said, shifting to sit closer to her sister and wrap an arm around her shoulders, “you’re a far better daughter than she deserved and the best sister I could have ever asked for.”

Leaning into Rasiel’s side, Dina smiled and wrapped her arms around her sister. “The same goes for you, I love you Ras.”

“I love you too sis.”

Chapter Text

Prompt: hurts to be close (stranger)
Characters: Sith Warrior Tuathal Techtmar, Sith Inquisitor Ma’at Stasma and their children - Ma’at and Ari belong to Cinlat but at this point let’s be real, we totally have shared custody of all of these dorks. 
Word Count: 510

“Again papa, again!” A childish voice said, giggling loudly, and Tuathal’s heart plummeted. He didn’t have to look behind him to know that one of his daughters was playing with Talos.

Instead he stayed put on the couch angled toward one of the few windows in the Techtmar/Drellik wing of the Alliance base. Ma’at had sequestered several connected rooms to create a home for their family. She had said it was important for the children to have a sense of normalcy even if there was nothing normal about the situation.

While it should have felt like home and he had his own room, one to share with his wife, Tuathal had yet to spend a night there. She hadn’t questioned it but then, Ma’at always did have a way of understanding her husband even when he didn’t speak.

It hurt to be so close to his children and have them look at him like he was a stranger. Nuada had openly rejected him, his son far angrier at being abandoned than relieved to have this father home. To the twins his presence didn’t even have that much of an impact, they never knew him and Talos had always been their father.

It was probably not that surprising that of the four perfect children his wife had brought into the world Ari, the only one not of his blood, was the only one to ever approach him. Sure the boy had only wanted to know if some of the stories he had heard were true and ask about lightsaber training, it was still more of a conversation than he had managed with his own son.

At first Nuada had simply avoided Tuathal, if he tried to approach his son there would suddenly be somewhere else the boy needed to be. The last time he had tried, Nuada had yelled at Tuathal, claiming he didn’t “need” another father. Ma’at had scolded their son for it, but the sincerity in the boy’s words stuck with Tuathal. 

Valkorian had told him that his family would move on without him, that they would replace and forget about him. He hadn’t believed it was possible but now that faith was starting to waiver.

Another peal of laughter from behind him made Tuathal both smile and cringe. He wasn’t sure it was possible for a sound to both fill his heart with joy and pain, but it did.

“Tully?” Ma’at’s voice was soft as she sat next to him, hand resting on his tightly clasped hands. “Are you okay?”

Taking her hand in his, Tuathal nodded. “I am alright my love.”

Ma’at smile sadly, “no you aren’t.”

A smile tugged at the edge of his mouth and instead of responding he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. He didn’t know what to say, she was right after all. He wasn’t okay, wasn’t even sure what being okay looked like anymore.

But looking into Ma’at eyes, the warmth and love he saw there, was more than enough to reassure him that someday he would.

Chapter Text

Prompt: “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
Characters: Smuggler Keeleigh Noir and Corso Riggs
Word Count: 739

“This is all my fault,” Corso said miserably. It should have been him lying in the hospital bed he sat next to, not the captain. He had tried to make her slow down, take cover when the firefight had started in the underbelly of Nar Shaadda but she was too hard headed and stubborn. The starberry on the top of his massive failure was she had gotten injured while trying to cover him.

Corso has just managed to catch up to her and was doing his best to keep her safe when Keeleigh shoved him to the ground. He’d fallen face first on the ground, cursing at the shock and then again when he realized she had gone still across his back. Finding the large blaster burns on her back and side, wounds that should have been his, made his heart stop. It felt like everything stopped for a moment, one terrifying moment when she didn’t respond to him saying her name. To him pleading for her to open her eyes.

Even now, crammed into an uncomfortable hospital chair, he couldn’t quite push that fear away completely. Not when she had yet to open her eyes again.

Gently he took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb across her smooth, green skin. He loved her color, it was a vibrant, lively tone that against the dark brown of his own reminded him of nature and growing things. Almost like the fields he had grown up playing and working in back on Ord Mantell. But it was more than that, Keeleigh didn’t just remind him of home, she was home.

The first one he’d found since his family had been murdered and if he lost her now, he would truly be lost.

“You gotta wake up darlin’,” he said, lifting her hand to press a soft kiss to her knuckles, “I can’t lose you, not like this. Not because of my own stupidity.”

“You give yourself too much credit.” The words were so soft and partially mumbled that for a moment Corso thought he had imagined them. Then he looked up and saw Keeleigh’s eyes open just enough to show a sliver of their deep red orange color.

“Ginza toad in your throat?” She asked, her voice clearer than the first time, when he couldn’t do anything other than gape at her. Her lips curled into a smirk and he laughed.

“How are you feeling?” Corso shifted closer to brush her hair out of her face. Really, he wanted to kiss her, pull her into his arms, anything to show how relieved he was. However as much as he knew he was in love with her, he also knew she wasn’t there.

“I feel fuzzy, you got me the good stuff, didn’t you?”

Corso smiled, “only the best for you Captain.”

Keeleigh groaned, “what did I tell you about using my name? How many more times do I have to ask?”

“Aw shucks Keeleigh, you know it’s a habit of mine.” Corso squeezed her hand, smiling when she returned the gesture, “you shouldn’t have done that Keeleigh, what if…” his voice trailed off and he let out a shaky breath when he couldn’t voice his fears.

Lifting her other hand, Keeleigh motioned for him to move closer. Curious, Corso moved from the chair to sit on the edge of her bed. To his surprise she cupped the back of his neck and pulled him down into a firm kiss. He froze against her, his mind struggling to process what was going on before she leaned back against her pillows to smile at him sweetly.

“Key?” Corso just managed to gasp out her nickname, looking down at her curiously.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” she replied, rubbing her thumb across his cheek where she still held his face before frowning. “I’m sorry if I worried you, but I couldn’t just let you get hurt Corso.”

“You couldn’t?”

Closing her eyes, Keeleigh shook her head. “Not if I could help it. Besides, I kind of like waking up to find you waiting for me.”

Unable to resist, Corso cupped her cheek in one hand and traced the outline of her lips with his thumb. “And how long have you wanted to kiss me?”

“Don’t get all mushy on me now,” Keeleigh sighed, pulling him closer. “I’m tired, sore and I want you to kiss me again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Chapter Text

Prompt: “I don’t hate you, I just don’t like that you exist” (Defiance)
Characters: Sith Warrior Eira Rees and Malavai Quinn
Word Count: 706


Quinn kept his distance as he followed Eira and the rest of the crew up the boarding ramp to the ship they all called home. Granted, he wasn’t sure how much longer it would be true for him. Part of him wanted to believe Eira’s words back on Corellia, that everything was forgiven but it felt too much like lip service for his liking. 

It wasn’t a lie he could hold again the woman, not after what he had done. 

“Pierce, get us on our way,” Eira ordered once the airlock closed behind them, the exhaustion in her voice palpable. His worry that she was pushing herself too hard was the only thing eclipsing the pain of being overlooked. Traditionally he was the crew member in charge of the helm. Not Pierce.

When she turned toward the conference room instead of her bedroom, Quinn reached out for her hand on reflex. 

Instead of letting him take her hand, she flinched and whirled around to look at him. The pained expression in her green eyes and the way she pulled away from him was all the confirmation Quinn needed. 

“With your permission my lord, I’ll submit my request for a reassignment as soon as we exit hyperspace,” he said, holding himself at parade rest and doing his best not to let his voice waiver. 

Eira raised an eyebrow as he started to turn away and grabbed his sleeve. He had a moment to give her a questioning glance before she was dragging him out of the hallway and into her bedroom. She released him as the door slid closed behind them and stared up at him. 

“Why would you do that?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Do you want to leave Quinn?”

Biting back an exasperated sigh, Quinn’s shoulders slumped slightly. “What I prefer is irrelevant my lord, you would be more comfortable without a man you hate among your crew.”

“I don’t hate you Malavai,” Eira said quickly, “I just don’t like that you exist.” It was Quinn’s turn to flinch, she might not ‘hate’ him but disliking his whole existence wasn’t much better. To his surprise, Eira took his hands in her own and grimaced apologetically. “That came out badly, let me try again. I do not hate you; I don’t think I could if I tried, but I don’t like that this version of you that trusts Baras over me, the one that doesn’t think I would do anything to protect you from him – I don’t like that that man exists.”

Quinn’s brow furrowed as he processed her words, she didn’t hate him but didn’t like him? Where did that leave him?

Eira released one of his hands to cup the side of his face, pulling him from his thoughts to focus on her face and the glassy quality of her eyes. She hadn’t teared up when he tried to kill her, or when they had discussed his future with her after that. “I love you Malavai and I would rather die than see you live even one more day under that man’s thumb.”

Moving carefully, Quinn laid his hand on her waist and stepped closer. His other hand covered the one on his face and he closed his eyes, breathing in her nearness for a moment. “I love you too,” he breathed, the words a mere whisper on his lips, “can we really survive this?”

“Of course, we can love,” Eira said. 

Opening his eyes, Quinn met her smile with one of his own. Her unwavering optimism was one of his favorite qualities of the Sith he’d given his heart to. 

“But,” she said, fixing him with a serious look, “I’m going to need to get stronger and you are going to need to work on having more faith in me because this, what we have? It’s too good to let a bastard like Baras destroy. Not without one hell of a fight. So, the real question isn’t can we survive it’s are you willing to fighting for this?”

Quinn nodded as the weight on his chest finally lifted so he could breathe for the first time since the transponder station and cupped her face in his hands. “For you my love? Definitely.”

Chapter Text

Prompt: “Go on, hit me.” (warm)
Characters: Dubaku Eze and Mako
Word Count: 484


Mako stood on the other side of the cargo bay, fists held up in front of her face while Dubaku eyed her warily. When she had popped up out of nowhere and yanked him out of his seat he had been hoping that their bedroom and the spiffy “do not disturb” sign Blizz had made for them were going to play into her plans.

Instead Mako led him down the stairs and into the cargo bay before rounding on him and demanding a fighting lesson.

“I don’t know about this, sweets,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “This can’t be a good idea.”

“Sure, it is,” Mako scoffed, “you’re the one always telling me I need to learn how to fight.”

“Yeah but I didn’t mean we should fight each other.” Really Dubaku hadn’t meant much by it at all, it was just too easy to poke fun at her. It was how their relationship worked.

Mako propped her hands on her hips and smirked. “Afraid to fight a girl?”

Dubaku sputtered indignantly. “Afraid to hurt you more like,” he growled in annoyance, deciding not to start listing the names of various women he had fought over the years. It wouldn’t prove her wrong as much as it would piss her off.

Smiling, Mako sauntered over to him. The extra sway in her hips had his attention so transfixed Dubaku was surprised when she popped up on her toes to kiss his chin playfully. Cupping the back of his head before he could react, she pulled him down for a proper kiss.

This was what Dubaku had been hoping for when she approached him. With a groan deep in his chest he pulled her close, hands splayed across her back. His satisfied groan turned into a whimper when she pulled away. Soft fingers traced the tattooed lines on his cheek and he turned his head trying to catch her fingers with his lips.

“You are such a softie, you know that?” Mako commented as he gave up trying to kiss her fingers. Instead Dubaku just closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. Anyone else would get attitude for saying something like that about him but in the case of Mako it was true. Instead of the hardened mercenary most people knew him as she knew the truth about his warm, gooey filling.

Mako pulled her hand away and Dubaku opened his eyes to see what was wrong just in time to see her fist flying at his face. He staggered back, hand instinctively cupping his face to protect it. It wasn’t the hardest he had ever been hit, a quick check showed he wasn’t even bleeding, but the shock that she actually hit him that made him step back from her.

“How about now?” Mako asked, grinning brightly at him and holding her fists up again. “C’mon, go ahead, hit me.”