Star Wars Fic - Blog Posts

Welcome

Hello there and Welcome!

My name is Nad. I am so excited to finally start sharing my writing with all of you lovely people. I am still fairly new to creative writing and have taken quite the love to it.

I currently have more of a focus on Star Wars. More specifically the Prequel Era... cough cough... The Clone Wars, and The Bad Batch.

You can follow these links to better navigate my page.

Masterlist

OC Information (IN PROGRESS)

Links to Other Platforms (IN PROGRESS)

As of right now, I am getting things set up so it might be a bit buggy, so please bear with me.

With love,

Nad 💖

Through the Glass

independent_variables

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: CT-6922 | Dogma & CT-5385 | Tup, CT-5385 | Tup & Original Character(s), CT-6922 | Dogma & Original Character(s) Characters: Original Characters, CT-5385 | Tup, CT-6922 | Dogma Additional Tags: Haircuts, Hair Washing, tup gets his hair done for the first time, Anti-Clone Prejudice (Star Wars), briefly, Developing Friendships, clone and civilian friendships, this OC is mostly an auntie Series: Part 3 of Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an. Summary:

The one with the tattoo saw her first. His eyes widened, and he squeezed the other’s shoulder. “Hey. We’ve got to go.”

“Oh!” He whirled around— hair fanning out so she could see there were indeed some lovely curls in the underlayer— and backed away, hands up and open, smiling at her the same way she smiled at upset clients. “Sorry, ma’am. We thought you were closed. We didn’t touch your window, we didn’t mean to disturb anything. We’ll leave now.”

Before she could think twice about it, she asked, “What do you usually do with your hair?”

***

Tup gets a haircut.

—

My new fic for @starwarsalltypesoflove week! This is mostly Agape, just being kind for the sake of being kind.

This event has been lovely, I am excited to see what else is shared <3

A day off.

A quiet day, no missions and no responsibilities.

Great time for a detour to the beach. The team enjoy a relaxing day out full of sand shenanigans and spectacular scenery.

Rex sits and brandishes their weapons, he cleans out all the sediment and foreign materials taking residence in the barrels of the blasters.

Crosshair is taken back by how amazing the view is. (Although he will never admit it). He keeps his precious rifle high above the ground as it triggers him when sand loges itself in his scope.

Tech thoroughly enjoys taking readings of this unfamiliar planet and comparing them to his previous research on other planets. This had been interrupted by Wrecker begging him to help burry him in the sand. He eventually gives in to his constant begging (he secretly finds this very therapeutic).

Wrecker has one goal, he wants to be fully covered in sand from head to toe and then emerge out from the sand and scare some kids that pass by.

Wolffe is so tired from all the suprise attacks from the empire he struggles to relax fully and is always on edge, keeping a lookout for any potential enemies. Hunter convinces him to chill for a while as he'll need to be well rested for their next mission. He eventually does relax and is at peace with himself.

Hunter can't remember how long it's been since their last proper break. He had noticed his team getting grumpy and fatigued due to lack of sleep and a break from reality. While all the others were asleep that morning on the ship he flew the Marauder to a coastal world he remembered from his cadet training. A safe world out of the reach of the Empire. He was happy to see the reactions of his crew when they stepped out into this sandy world. He sits outstretched on the sand stretching his tense muscles and cleaning all sorts of substances off his knives (he often steals Wreckers knife because he loves to dual wield blades)

The day out finally ends and everyone feels refreshed and recharged and ready for the next mission to come.

Hope you like the photos and the small story to them.

Photos by roguesaberwielder

Monochrome

Summary: You find your soulmate in a certain sharpshooter. The Empire doesn't like that. Will Crosshair be a good soldier, or will be finally wake up to the truth?

Inspired by the song Monochrome by Babymetal. I listened to the Piano Version the entire time I wrote this.

Pairing: Crosshair x medic!reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: Some angst and violence, mentions of injuries, nonsexual nudity.

A/N: So I lied when I said I'd finish Midnight before writing some clone soulmate stories. I'm not giving up on Midnight, I just need a bit of a break. This was supposed to be a lot longer, but I'm trying to practice keeping things short.

Will probably end up doing a part 2 showing what happens in the middle since there's a lot I skipped.

MASTERLIST

He strikes when you least expect it. 

You’ve just left the fresher, towel wrapped around your body. Your clean clothes are steps away when he materializes out of thin air.  How much had he seen? How long has he been here?

He corners you like a scared animal, your back pressing against the wall. One of your hands desperately clutches at the towel wrapped around you. The last thing you need is it dropping right now. He towers over you, his gaze nothing more than his usual squint, toothpick in its usual place between his lips. His hand raises slowly, coming to rest on your jaw. His thumb presses against your lower lip, the rough material of his glove tugging at it. 

It’s bold. So very unlike him. 

He regarded most nat-borns with little more than seething glances, if he acknowledged them at all. You had seen more than that, though, from him. You’d been the one to care for him after they pulled him off that platform on Kamino. 

Thirty-two rotations there alone. 

He’d come to you almost dead, weak and malnourished. You’d nursed him back to health, while all he’d cared about was getting back to fighting. Of course, you’d expect nothing less from him. It’s what he was made for. 

After that, you had been assigned to his squad, accompanying them on certain missions. He rarely acknowledged your presence, but often you found him staring from afar. When you’d catch him, he’d only narrow his eyes at you before looking away. 

You’ve never been brave enough to confront him yourself. 

“C-Can I help you, sir?” You ask, your voice wavering slightly. His presence does something to you, makes your body buzz with energy you can’t even begin to explain. 

His gaze is hard as he stares down at you, assessing and analyzing like he would a target in the field. You try not to tremble under the intensity of it. 

“I-I’m almost done...if you need the fresher...” Your voice trails off as his hand slides down your neck, closing around your throat. 

He doesn’t squeeze, but he holds enough pressure to keep you still. Your pulse flutters under his fingers, breath hitching as he leans in closer. “You’re afraid.” 

You stare up into his dark gaze, swallowing against his hand. You nod, not trusting your voice. 

“Why?” He asks, the word coming out more curious than condemning. 

“You scare me.” You whisper. It’s not untrue. It’s not just the danger that he poses that scares you about him. 

He continues to stare down at you with that unreadable expression on his face. His eyes pierce right into you, like he can see into your very soul. He lifts his free hand slowly, bringing it to his mouth. He tugs his glove off with his teeth, his hand lowering towards you. 

Your heart rate picks up even more, and you want to duck away from his touch. You can’t move though, frozen watching in slow motion as his hand comes to rest against the skin of your throat, those large hands cupping each side of your neck. 

An electric jolt burns through you as his skin makes contact with yours. The world erupts in color around you, no longer just in shades of black and white. You stare up at his eyes, the most gorgeous shade of brown you’ve ever seen. 

You inhale sharply, staring up into those brown eyes in shock. 

He’s your soulmate. 

Most beings in the galaxy have a soulmate. You’re usually born with your link, or it shows up shortly after. With such a diaspora of species, fate doesn’t usually pair someone with a mate they’d never meet, or would vastly outlive. You had been born with your link, unable to see any color. 

You had spent so much time wondering when you’d meet your soulmate and what they’d be like. You spent years planning a trip around the galaxy in hopes you might run into them. Fate doesn’t pair people together who will never meet. You’d run into them eventually. 

Then the war started. 

After your home planet had been ravished by the war, you’d decided to join as a medic, using your skills to help aid the millions who risked their lives daily to protect the Republic. 

It had been in passing the first time you’d met the clone named Crosshair. You only knew his name because you had overheard part of their conversation. Clone Force 99 had stopped at the same base as your battalion to resupply. You had passed them on your way to help gather supplies for the med bay. 

Your eyes had met for half a second, but it had been enough. Perhaps you had known back then, but your mind had been so focused on the war, you hadn’t thought twice about it. 

Perhaps that had been why you had decided to stay on with the Empire after the war ended. Many hadn’t, choosing to leave instead. You’re not sure what happened to them. You’re not sure you want to know. 

It had simply been fate that you had been chosen to care for him after his rescue. 

You adjust your grip on your towel, holding onto it for dear life. You don’t know what he’s going to do. You couldn’t possibly guess his next move. 

“You’ve never said anything.” He finally says, thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

“I-I didn’t know.” You admit. “Not for sure. A-And if they ever found out...” You swallow thickly, staring up into those intense, dark eyes. “Could you...reject me?” 

His gaze narrows, and for a horrible moment you think he’s going to. Instead he releases you, turning on his heel as he makes his way from the fresher, leaving you alone. Your knees nearly give out. You take a long breath to steady yourself. He hadn’t answered. 

Would he, if they gave him the ultimatum? 

***

You get your answer a few weeks later. 

The squad had been called to some godforsaken planet where the Empire was setting up another base. Why you had been called there was beyond your understanding. Nevertheless, you went along as you were expected to. 

It all becomes clear when you’re cornered on the landing pad. Your squad, and the surrounding troopers turn their blasters on you and Crosshair. You look up at him in fear, and slight anger, but the look on his face tells you he was not expecting this either. He hadn’t been the one to reveal your secret. So who had? Who knew about you two? You hadn’t told anyone.  

Vice Admiral Rampart joins you, looking far too proud of himself. He steps up to you, looking down at you like you’re the absolute scum of the galaxy. “It appears we have a bit of a situation. It has been brought to my attention that you and CT-9904 share a soulmate bond. As you are likely aware, soulmate bonds cause some...unnecessary complications.”

“You don’t have any proof.” You say, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“I don’t need any.” He smirks at you, turning to face Crosshair. “CT-9904, you will reject your soulmate.” 

Your blood turns to ice, your stomach dropping through the landing platform into the very core of the planet. Would he do it? It has to be his decision. 

“It doesn’t work that way.” You blurt out, trying to delay Crosshair’s answer. “You can’t force him. It has to be a willing decision.” 

Rampart keeps his back to you, facing Crosshair. Crosshair’s gaze is on the tarmac, refusing to look anywhere else. You quietly plead for him to look at you, to meet your gaze. Your heart is pounding so loudly in your ears, you think the troopers flanking you might be able to hear it as well. 

“Shame.” Rampart says, drawing a blaster. “You were a good medic.” 

You don’t feel the pain. You’re in far too much shock to feel anything more than the force of the bolt hitting your chest. It’s a sloppy shot, but it’s more than effective as you stumble back, feet leaving the ground as your body falls over the edge of the platform to the ground below. 

***

You’re sticky when you wake, the familiar gummy feel of bacta on your skin, and in your hair. Many times you’ve felt the same on others after a long soak in a bacta tank. 

Now it’s your turn. 

You feel groggy, eyes slowly peeling open. Sedatives, most likely, so you didn’t wake panicking in the bacta tank. 

You’re lucky you’re waking at all. 

You remember the blaster shot. It was a sloppy one, hitting you to the side of your chest. If it had been to the left, or even centered, things would have been worse. It had sent you backwards off the landing platform. You had fallen unconscious before you hit the ground below, which is likely what saved your life. Fifteen feet, or so you had to guess. 

You remember waking momentarily on the ship. Crosshair was with you. He had been looking down at you, nothing but pain and guilt on his face. That had been the last thing you’d seen before waking now. 

The world around you is blurry, but you can’t mistake the sterile white of a med bay. You can’t feel much of anything aside from a slight ache in the back of your head. You lift a hand to your face, rubbing your eyes. 

You hear someone approach, a figure stopping next to the bed. 

“Oh good. You’re awake.” They say. 

You recognize that voice. You pull your hand away from your eyes, blinking up at a face you’ve seen probably half a million times. You sit up in bed with a gasp, beginning to panic. Had the Empire realized you’re alive and taken you somewhere? What about Crosshair? Had they decommissioned him already? 

“Easy.” A hand falls on your shoulder. It’s gentle, trying to get you to lay back down. “You’re safe here.”

You let the clone medic ease you back down into the bed. “Where?” You ask, your voice rough from your dry throat. 

“I can’t say exactly, but you’re not with the Empire. This is a safe place for clone deserters set up by Captain Rex.” He runs a quick scan of your body. “You’re perfectly safe here.” 

You lean up on your elbow, motioning towards the monitor. “Let me see. I’m a medic.” 

He turns the monitor towards you, showing you a side by side of what was most likely a scan when you arrived, and then one now. You wince as you look at the scan before your soak in the bacta tank. 

“You were in bad shape.” He says. “Few more minutes and you might not have made it.” 

“I’m shocked I made it at all.” You say. By all rights, you shouldn’t have. You weren’t supposed to. 

“You had some intervention on the way here.” The medic says. “Without it, I don’t think you would have.” 

You glance around the med bay, but it’s just you and the medic. Did Crosshair bring you here? How had he known about this place? Did he leave you here? 

You’re beginning to feel a tug in your chest, a yearning to see him again. Had he initiated the bond? If he had intervened to try and save your life, he must have done it out of necessity. If you’re beginning to feel it, he must really be feeling it. 

After some negotiation with the clone medic, Nitro you learned his name is, he clears you to at least take a shower. You know from the scans you’re more than fine to be up and moving around. All you have is some residual pain from your injuries which would be gone in a few hours. 

You follow his directions towards the freshers, but you don’t really need them. You follow the tugging in your chest, listening as it gets stronger and stronger. You pause outside one of the fresher doors, glancing both ways down the hall before stepping in. The door isn’t locked, almost like it’s an invitation. 

There’s steam hazing the room, but you can still see him. He’s in the shower, hands pressed against the wall in front of him. The spray hits the top of his head, water cascading down his body. 

Your hands shake as you begin to pull off your clothes. You’re taking a risk. He’d stop you, though, if he wanted to. He knows you’re there, even if he hasn’t looked at you. He’s too good of a soldier not to. 

You step into the shower behind him, slowly wrapping your arms around his slim waist. You can feel the lean muscle, every ridge of it as you press your face against his back. Warmth floods through you as you make contact with him, easing the tugging in your chest. He lets out a long breath, probably feeling the same. 

“You didn’t reject me.” You say, flattening your hands against his stomach. 

“They tried to kill you.” He says, voice devoid of any emotions. 

“They almost did.” You say, pressing yourself closer to him. “You defected for me.” 

One of his hands drops to gently rest against yours on his stomach. “I did a lot more than that.” 

You can tell by the tenseness of his shoulders, it’s not going to be a pleasant retelling later. You press a gentle kiss to the tan skin, closing your eyes as the water sprays over you both. 

He spins around, startling you at the sudden movement. Your back presses against the wall of the shower as you look up at him, his body blocking the spray as he looms over you. His hand comes to rest against your jaw, a mirror of when you’d discovered your soulmate link. You lift a hand, wrapping it around the back of his neck. 

You both move seamlessly, meeting each other in the middle as your lips press together. Warmth blooms beneath your skin, your nerves buzzing with electricity and energy. He presses closer, every inch of your bodies touching. You want to pull him closer, you want to draw him into your very soul.

He lifts you easily, your legs wrapping around him as he uses the wall to hold you in place. His lips leave yours, his face pressing into your neck. You wrap yourself tighter around him, holding onto him like he might disappear if you let go. 

You know he won’t. 

Neither of you are going anywhere.

Taglist:

@stressed-cherry

Please recommend me a fanfic with this story. I need it more than I need oxygen

you know what would have been funny? i was busy thinking of some Imperial! Anidala AUs and there's one which just crossed my mind.

Imagine Padmé joins Vader on Mustafar, Vader beats Obi, and kills Sidious to take over. Vader tries to deepen his connection to the Dark Side as he and Padmé rule over the galaxy. Vader tries to portray himself as this evil, fearsome autocrat but is way too popular: he doesn't create the Death Star because neither he nor Padmé likes it, he abolishes slavery because duh, literally all of the clones (they don't get replaced) love him, he's still seen as the war hero, he's very handsome, and Padmé's presence + coregency mellows him out a lot. Padmé and his children are also there, and his love for them is wayyyyyy too much that he isn't nearly as evil and dark as he should be

Eventually, Vader comes to Padmé crying about how his connection to the Dark Side is weakening because of how much he loves her and the children and how he can't fuel his inner darkness anymore. He isn't really a Sith anymore and eventually Padmé convinces him to just let it go, renounce his darkness, and let the love flow through him so now he's just emperor anakin, former jedi and failed sith

emperor vader: suffering from success

Chapter 4

Pairing - General Armitage Hux x Reader

*Set prior to The Force Awakens*

Summary -

Forged in blood. Bound by duty. Broken by desire.

(Y/n) (L/n) is a deadly Umbral of the Covenant - an elite order of vampires sworn to the First Order. Her assignment: serve as General Hux's personal guard. But as buried secrets surface and a rogue vampire faction rises, (Y/n) is forced to confront a past she can't outrun - and feelings she was never meant to have.

In a war of blood, betrayal, and duty, the deadliest threat may be the one that lies still in her chest.

Series contains - Blood, violence, battles/war, betrayal/angst, eventual smut, slow burn

The door hissed closed behind her, sealing out the clinical brightness of the corridor. Dim, ambient lighting filled the compact but private space assigned to her. An austere First Order officer’s quarters, modified slightly to accommodate a Covenant elite.

Her boots hit the floor with a dull thud once pulled off, followed by the slow release of her harness. Piece by piece, she shed the image of a soldier, her black Umbral uniform folded neatly over the ottoman at the foot of her bed. Only then did she stretch - shoulders rolling, spine cracking softly - as if the weight of the day had settled deeper into her bones than she let anyone see.

With a huff, she crossed to the small wall-mounted refrigeration unit in the kitchenette and retrieved a sealed blood pack, marked with the Covenant’s insignia. Twisting the cap open, she drank from it without ceremony. The crimson liquid was cool and iron-rich, satiating her hunger with clinical precision, but not without the flicker of ancient instinct.

A small sigh escaped her lips as she leaned back against the counter, eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as the day’s events caught up with her. 

It had been a few days since they first suspected the Resistance was harboring a rogue Covenant faction. Herself and Varo had visited each other that night to discuss the issue and grieve over the betrayal that their own kind committed. After all they had been through, going against their own species was an option they never thought would be on the table. 

Steam began to cloud from the refresher as she turned on the shower. Her reflection caught in the darkened mirror. Unnaturally pale skin, the shimmering yet pale gold of her eyes, and the ever-present weight behind her gaze. Not tired, not weak. Guarded.

She stepped into the shower. The water was searing hot, meant more to cleanse her mind than her body. The sound drowned out the hum of the ship. For once, she allowed herself to just feel. The rippling heat against her normally cold skin, a foreign feeling to her rhythmless heart. The steam curled through her hair, head tilted back as she let the water run over her face.

When she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, she looked strangely younger. Not in appearance, but in silence. The storm behind her eyes had calmed, if only for a moment.

She slipped into a set of issued black sleepwear and sat on the edge of her bed, datapad in hand. Her eyes scanned the text with machine-like precision. Reports, updates, combat performance logs. But as she scrolled, her gaze slowed on one item. A personnel file.

General Hux, Armitage

“Armitage?” She mumbled to herself curiously. Her finger hovered over the file, hesitating. 

She tapped it open.

It wasn’t invasive. Just basic service records. Public to internal ranks. Dates. Promotions. Assignments. 

At least, that’s what she told herself. 

But she lingered longer than necessary. Not for intelligence. Something else.

Her thumb hesitated before swiping the screen away and powering off the datapad.

For a brief moment, she sat in silence, staring at nothing. No orders. No commands. No expectations. Just a woman forged into something sharp. Sitting alone in the dark, still searching for the pieces that made her whole.

The lights dimmed further at her mental prompt.

She lay back on the bed. No armor. No duty. No one watching.

Just (Y/n). 

The hum of the Finalizer’s systems faded into the background. Lying in the quiet dark, (Y/n)’s eyes finally drifted shut.

The great courtyard of the Covenant’s inner sanctum was bathed in the violet hue of the twin moons. Tall, obsidian spires reached up around the ceremonial space where graduates were gathering, fresh from their final trials.

(Y/n) stood near the edge of the crowd. Lean, composed, her black cloak still streaked with ash from the Gauntlet. Beside her stood her closest friend. They had trained together, bled together, whispered their plans under moonlight while the others slept.

Her friend’s smile was tight. Her golden eyes flickered. Not with pride, but with something hollow. Something new.

“Umbral Academy,” she said, as if the words tasted bitter. “You and Varo. Chosen.”

(Y/n) furrowed her brow. “You forgot yourself, Zera. The High Lords -”

“Are finished with their selections for the remainder of the year.” Zera’s voice cracked, a tremble buried beneath her control. “I wasn’t one of them.”

(Y/n) blinked. “What? That’s… No, that’s a mistake. We’ll appeal -”

“No. You’ll go. Without me.” Zera stepped back, her jaw clenched, her voice sharp now with jealousy. “You always had their eyes on you. You and Varo. I was just the shadow in your wake, made to look worse so you could look better.”

“Zera, that’s not true -” (Y/n) moved forward, confused, reaching for her arm.

But Zera recoiled. Her expression was carved from stone now, guarded and venomous. “They said I lacked the instinct. The control. That I wouldn’t survive a night in the academy.”

“I didn’t know,” (Y/n) murmured. “I didn’t want this without you, we’ve talked about this for -”

“Four years!” Zera interrupted, eyes flashing with something darker now. Other Duskborns began to watch the pair of them as it escalated. “Four years, and you’re just leaving like it meant nothing to you! You were the only good thing I ever had, (Y/n)!”

(Y/n) went to speak, but Varo cut in. 

“It’s not her choice, it’s the Covenant’s.” He defended firmly. 

“Quiet, Drenn!” She snapped, turning back to (Y/n). “After everything we said about not leaving each other. About being there through everything, no matter the cost!” Zera looked between the two of them before she took a step back. “Forget it.” She spat with venom before turning to leave. 

(Y/n) took a step after her, then froze. Something in the air shifted. Too quickly, what they thought was unbreakable, had already been severed.

Varo was silent for a moment. Watching. He met (Y/n)’s eyes and gave a faint shake of his head.

“We can’t help her. She needs to figure this out herself.” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders with a solemn expression. 

And (Y/n) knew, deep down, he was right.

(Y/n) sat bolt upright, the memory like a blade to the ribs. Her breathing was unsteady, but her eyes… distant. Haunted.

She didn’t weep. She hadn’t in years. But that scar, deep and invisible, throbbed like a fresh wound.

Zera.

The name echoed like a whisper in the back of her mind.

Still in the dark, (Y/n) turned to the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around herself. 

The sharp rhythm of boots echoed through the corridor. Varo walked at (Y/n)’s side, his stride easy, relaxed despite the rigid order of the Finalizer’s halls. His head tilted slightly towards her.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” he said casually, “I’m pretty sure the Wraith Commander gave you the better assignment just because he was afraid of you.”

(Y/n) raised a brow, her voice cool. “ Him? Afraid?” 

“Well, you did break that instructor’s arm during blade training.” Varo gave a mock shiver. 

“He told me to stop holding back.”

“You shattered his elbow.” He deadpanned.

“His stance was weak.”

Varo grinned, tilting his head. “Remind me never to spar with you again. I quite like my bones in one piece.”

“They’ll heal.” (Y/n) didn’t smile, but the corner of her mouth twitched, just enough to show she wasn’t entirely made of steel.

“Well regardless,” Varo continued, “you get to shadow the general. Meanwhile, I’m stuck listening to Phasma bark orders at people half her size.”

“She’s efficient,” (Y/n) said, with a faintly amused glance. “And terrifying.”

“Exactly. I admire her… From a safe distance.”

They turned a corner, passing by a few stormtroopers who gave a wide berth to the two Umbrals. One even hesitated before saluting, a twitch of nervousness as their cloaks swept past.

Varo dropped his voice slightly, leaning a bit towards (Y/n). “But admit it. Watching people fumble around Hux while trying to impress him is a little entertaining.”

(Y/n) didn’t respond right away. Then, quietly, she murmured, “He sees through it. That’s what makes it worse for them.” She smirked. 

Varo laughed under his breath. “Stars, you’re getting soft. Next thing I know, you’ll be complimenting his hair.”

(Y/n) gave him a sideways glance. “It’s always perfectly parted. Not much to critique.”

“Maker help us,” Varo grinned.

(Y/n) shook her head with a faint exhale. “I hope you know that during this conversation I’ve been deciding whether to stab you or ignore you.”

“Either way,” he said with a chuckle, “at least I’d die knowing I made you smile.”

They reached the final corridor leading to the bridge. Their banter faded slightly, replaced with the calm professionalism both had been trained to resume in operational zones.

(Y/n) and Varo stepped in side by side, their long, dark cloaks catching the sterile light.

Varo leaned slightly towards her one last time. “Try not to glare too hard. Some of the crew still think you drink souls.”

(Y/n) smirked without looking at him. “Only on weekends.”

He snorted and gave her a casual nod before veering off to the left. “Captain Phasma’s waiting. Try not to miss me.”

As Varo disappeared into the far side of the bridge, (Y/n)’s eyes scanned the command walkway and there, just ahead, stood General Hux.

Clad in his sharp uniform, he was facing the forward viewport, the glint of the stars outside casting a cold sheen on his fiery hair. He didn’t look up immediately, but he was already aware of her arrival after hearing her familiar voice. A sound he found himself growing more accustomed to, and maybe even favor.

She approached with fluid precision, stopping just beside him.

“General Hux,” she said clearly, but her voice gave off a friendlier introduction than usual.

He glanced up, his expression unreadable but unmistakably aware. His gaze swept her form. 

“Umbral (L/n),” he acknowledged. “You’re punctual.”

“I was assigned to your command. Punctuality is expected.” She poked with a knowing look.

A moment passed between them. Not tense, but taut with subtle energy. Unspoken understanding, and the awareness of watchful eyes on the bridge.

Then, as he turned, she fell into step beside him, unobtrusive but unquestionably present.

As they walked, several officers along the command stations subtly glanced their way, some with the flicker of uncertainty in their expressions before Hux stopped at one of the terminals to look over a new report.

(Y/n)’s eyes remained alert, her senses sweeping the room. She could feel the tension. The curiosity. The fear.

Good.

Hux glanced sidelong at her. “They’ll get used to it. Eventually.”

“I’d prefer it if they didn’t,” (Y/n) replied, her voice low enough for only him to hear.

His lips twitched, just barely. “Likewise.”

The quiet buzz of the bridge was momentarily disrupted as Captain Voss entered from the far side, his footsteps deliberate and heavy. He stood a few paces away from (Y/n) and General Hux, pausing for a brief moment before speaking.

“General,” Voss greeted, his voice as sharp and professional as ever, but with a particular emphasis on the word General, as if reminding everyone of their roles. His eyes flicked briefly to (Y/n), who remained standing stoically beside Hux.

Hux didn’t immediately respond as he was watching the report flicker across the terminal, his eyes scanning the data. “Captain.”

Voss stepped closer, his boots echoing with each step, a tablet in his hand. “Updates from the fleet, sir,” he said, still careful to avoid directly acknowledging (Y/n), but it was impossible to ignore the slight narrowing of his eyes as they briefly met hers. “I trust the Umbral has settled in… comfortably by now?”

The words weren’t directly insulting, but the bite behind them was unmistakable. (Y/n)’s gaze didn’t falter. She simply stared, a perfect mask of professionalism. She wouldn’t let him get under her skin. Not here, not now.

However, Varo, who had been standing nearby and quietly observing the exchange, didn’t miss the undertone. His brow furrowed slightly as he stepped closer, his eyes narrowing in irritation. The thought of intervening crossed his mind, but before he could open his mouth, Hux spoke first, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Captain Voss,” Hux said coolly. “I would appreciate it if you would refrain from insinuating things that are neither relevant nor professional in the presence of my personal guard.”

Varo froze for a split second, surprised by the quickness of the response. He could feel the shift in the air as Hux’s sharp tone pierced through the murmur of the bridge. Voss blinked, momentarily taken aback. “My apologies, sir. I wasn’t aware I was offending,” Voss replied, his tone now more clipped, but his eyes still glinting with that same passive-aggressive edge.

“Umbral (L/n) is not to be the subject of your personal musings, do I make myself clear?”

Varo smirked, standing just behind the captain, sensing the rare moment of discomfort in Voss. Voss stilled, his hand gripping the tablet tighter.

“Yes, sir,” he responded stiffly, the forced politeness thick in his voice.

The silence lingered for a moment before Hux finally shifted his attention back to the captain, the brief interruption passing as if it never happened.

“What have you found?” Hux asked, gesturing to the tablet in Voss’s hand.

For a second, Voss opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he simply nodded and began to speak about the fleet’s movements. His words lost a bit of their earlier venom, though the flicker of resentment never fully disappeared. It was clear that he was no longer willing to test Hux’s patience at that moment.

(Y/n) didn’t react outwardly, her face remained a perfect mask. But inside, she allowed herself a fleeting moment of satisfaction, and dare she say appreciation. Hux had handled the situation with precise authority, making sure to put Voss back in his place.

Varo, however, couldn’t resist a small chuckle as he leaned in a bit closer to (Y/n). “Didn’t think the General had it in him,” he muttered for only her to hear, his grin amused but still holding a touch of concern.

(Y/n) didn’t look at him, but she did respond quietly. “Neither did I.” Her eyes looked over the general’s face as he spoke with Voss, unaware of how she found herself admiring him. The shadow of his cheek bones, the movement of his eyes and curve of his nose -

“Time and place, (L/n).” Varo teased, breaking her out of her stare and elbowing him sharply in the ribs making him huff with a chuckle. 

The silence in the room lingered after Captain Voss’s departure. His passive-aggressive remarks had left a slight chill in the air, but the tension began to dissipate as personnel moved back to their stations after eavesdropping, giving the trio a moment of quiet.

(Y/n)’s eyes flicked between Hux, who was absorbed in the tablet given to him, and Varo, who appeared to be in his usual playful mood despite the recent exchange. Varo, never one to leave a tense moment without attempting to lighten it, glanced at (Y/n) and gave her a knowing smirk.

“Well, that went well, don’t you think?”

(Y/n)’s lips twitched into a barely perceptible smirk, but she didn’t say anything. At least, not until Varo continued.

“I mean, you did have that whole ‘silent rage’ thing going on - very intimidating. I’d be scared to cross you.”

(Y/n) glanced sideways at Varo, her eyebrow raising slightly, but she couldn’t hide the hint of amusement in her gaze. “If you keep making jokes like that, Varo, I might actually consider crossing you .”

Varo’s grin widened, and he threw a quick, playful glance toward Hux, who hadn’t looked up from the tablet. With a calculated, dramatic pause, Varo leaned closer to (Y/n), lowering his voice to a whisper.

“I’m just saying, if you did, we’d probably have to drag you away from him before Hux starts thinking you two are too close.” Another jab in his side. 

The quip made (Y/n)’s eyes narrow, but she held back a quiet chuckle. Hux, who had been focusing intently on the report, suddenly glanced up, a sharp, cutting gaze landing on both of them.

Hux spoke dryly. “If you two are quite finished, I suggest you save the idle chatter for later.”

Varo, ever the opportunist, turned to Hux with feigned seriousness.

“Of course, General. Just keeping the morale up.” He glanced sideways at (Y/n), his expression turning faux-pensive. “It’s hard, you know? Being the only source of entertainment.”

Hux stared at him for a moment with an unreadable expression on his face before his gaze switched to (Y/n) who had the faintest smirk. Figuring that the Umbrals had slight leeway given their status, the general decided to humor him.

“You’d be surprised how little your ‘entertainment’ is needed, Drenn.” He paused in hesitation. “But if it helps you two get through the day, I suppose I can allow it on occasion.”

Varo grinned and gave a half-bow, completely unfazed by the general’s dry retort. (Y/n), watching this back-and-forth, finally allowed herself a brief chuckle, one that she quickly masked with a more stoic expression, but Hux had already caught it and he looked at her longer than necessary in masked amusement. The lightness between the three of them was palpable.

Just as the tension was beginning to ease, the door to the bridge opened and a soft chime echoed through the room, signaling an incoming message.

“ General Hux, the Grand Master requires your presence in the War Room immediately. ”

The playful atmosphere that Varo had tried to create faded slightly as the business of the day returned, but there was still a slight, lingering warmth to the moment.

“I suppose we’ll have to continue this conversation later, Umbral Drenn. You can make your jokes when I’m not in the middle of a meeting, though I’m sure I’d be ‘thrilled’ by your input.”

Varo shot him a mock, two-fingered salute, a teasing grin still in place.

“I’ll try to contain my enthusiasm, General. Wouldn’t want to distract you from the really important stuff, right?” He shot (Y/n) a quick, conspiratorial glance, the joke hanging between them.

“Keep it down, will you?” (Y/n) pressed. 

“The two of you together are insufferable. Let’s go, (L/n).” Hux urged. 

With that, the two left the bridge, making their way towards the door to the War Room and entering. 

The War Room was dimly lit, its walls lined with shifting holo-maps and live feeds from the far reaches of First Order space. A single long table dominated the room, displaying an active projection of disputed sectors and blinking alerts. Hux stood at the head of the table, his posture rigid as always. 

(Y/n) stood to his right and the general noticed her take a soothing deep breath uncharacteristically. 

“Nervous?” He questioned her. She glanced at him. 

“The Grand Master is the Covenant’s equivalent to the Supreme Leader. The highest elder of our kind.” Her head turned to look at Hux. “I would be.”

The air shifted slightly as the holo-communicator pulsed and activated, forming the image of the Grand Master of the Covenant. Draped in ceremonial black and crimson, his eyes were sharp beneath the weight of age and authority. The halo of his mantle flickered faintly, feeding off the shadows like it hungered.

“General Hux. Umbral (L/n).” He nodded in acknowledgement. His tone was unreadable, neither warm nor hostile.

Hux spoke. “Grand Master. Thank you for joining us.”

“The matter warranted it. You have reports of a Resistance-aligned unit employing techniques unnatural for mortals. I cannot tolerate such rumors under my careful watch for the sake of my kind.”

A pause.

“I assume this is not an exaggeration of your kind’s military incompetence.”

The general didn’t flinch. He was used to the Covenant’s thinly veiled disdain.

“You are correct to assume, Grand Master. These attacks are not the doing of amateurs. We’ve faced Resistance operatives on countless occasions. This is different.”

(Y/n)’s eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressing into a firm line. She stepped forward, speaking for the first time. 

“They strike in the dark, Grand Master. With coordination and precision that suggests training. Covenant training with attempted Umbral elements. These are not mere recruits or fledglings.”

The Grand Master tilted his head, his expression sharpening as if considering her worthiness to speak.

“And you believe them to be… rogues?”

“With the knowledge of my training and what I’ve assessed, I don’t know what else they could be.”

“You presume treason. A bold accusation. Especially from one so newly graduated.”

Hux’s voice cut in, calm but authoritative.

“We have firsthand knowledge of Covenant methods from Umbrals (L/n) and Drenn, and my own of the First Order. We’ve reviewed the evidence together. The similarities are unmistakable.”

Another pause. The Grand Master’s eyes moved from Hux back to (Y/n). 

“If what you suggest is true, then this would be an unsanctioned breach of the Blood Accord. The punishment for such betrayal is execution.”

He stepped back slightly in his projection. Behind him, the faint silhouettes of the High Lords flickered into view, standing in silent consensus.

“You are authorized, Umbral (L/n), to investigate this matter further with the support of the First Order. Should your findings confirm the presence of a rogue Covenant faction…”

A beat.

“You will have the full authority of the Covenant to eliminate them. All of them.”

A flicker of darkness passed over (Y/n)’s face. Determination, resolve and dread entwined. She gave a silent nod.

“As you command. Thank you, Grand Master.” She bowed her head with a hand crossed over onto her heart. 

“You are not alone in this. I also grant Umbral Drenn operational liberty. I suspect the two of you will perform well, given your history. The Council expects discretion… but finality.”

The Grand Master’s gaze locked once more with (Y/n)’s, this time more direct. It was personal.

“They took their oath, Umbral. They chose exile. They chose treason. And we will provide no mercy for such actions. Show them the price of turning their fangs on their own. Honor in Loyalty, Umbral.”

“Strength in Silence, Grand Master.”

With a flicker, the projection faded, and the War Room fell into silence.

Hux didn’t move for a moment, the two of them digesting the gravity of what had just transpired. Then, without looking at (Y/n), he spoke. 

“Well. That settles the question of what we do next.”

(Y/n) stood quietly beside him and he finally looked at her with the smallest hint of concern. Her gaze was downcast as she was frozen and he caught a familiar emotion in her gaze. 

Betrayal. 

I'm reblogging this cause I've looked at the ones in the comments and I need more

Fives fix-it fic recs

Does anyone have any good Fives fix-it fic recs?

Because I need to forget everything I just watched.

He's totally fine and still alive and everything is ok and the chips are discovered and order 66 doesn't happen and everyone lives and nobody dies and all the clones get to live happy free lives and *sobs*