Did he murder someone cause palps said they were a traitor to the republic? Yes. Is fox now second guessing if that was real? Yes. Don’t worry tho.. he’s got a shadow friend to help.. right?
CC-1010 | Commander Fox Needs A Hug is one of my favourite AO3 tags to browse, so for Fox Day I made myself a Fox to hug while I read about just how much he needs it.
For:
@corrieweek - day 7: Fox day
@ailesswhumptober - day 12: "can you feel me? I'm right here."
the commute to work isn't always pretty, but at least your fluffy defender is there to help
length: 2.1k
content warnings: strange guys being pervy
very much inspired by this piece of fan art
ao3 // masterlist // corrie week masterlist
I’m gonna be late, I’m gonna be late, I’m gonna be so kriffing late. The words rattled around your head as you scampered about the cramped apartment, hair pin clamped between your teeth as you tried wrestling unruly hair into a somewhat presentable look. Stamping your feet into your scuffed black boots at the same time.
The ticking hand of the chrono on the wall insulted you as you failed for the third time to trap the rebellious strands, getting a clumsy finger caught in the twist one the pin thrust into place and a clump fell free as you tugged your finger out.
"Kriff it." You huffed and gave up, leaving the strands dangling down, bending to secure the laces on your boots.
Grabbing your red and white jacket off the kitchen chair, you slapped the door panel and it hissed open, shrugging one arm through the hole as the outside panel locked and skipped down the bare hallway towards the turbo lifts. Bag dangling precariously on one shoulder.
"Hold the doors!" You yelled as they began to creak shut, a wrinkled hand striking between to stop them, letting you squeeze through with a muffled thanks and adjusted your bag to slide your other arm into your jacket.
"Running late again?" Smirked a weathered voice and you caught Mister Lafen's smug eye in your peripheral, zipping the jacket to the collar.
You smoothed down your jacket, lip curling. "I think my alarm hates me." You grunted and sifted your comm from your bag, tucking it into the jacket pocket.
“Yes.” Mister Lafen agreed sarcastically, “It’s the alarm.”
You flashed him a pout but couldn't hide the quirk to your lip, tugging on your jacket again until it sat comfortably. The blazing emblem of the Coruscant Guard emblazoned in bold red against the snowy white on both shoulders.
It wasn't your fault the alarm failed to go off. The doors whined as they opened, chucking you out in the lobby of the building, and you flashed Lafen a little wave as you dashed out. Swerving to avoid colliding with a couple and their two kids.
Stale air hit you as you stepped out onto the bustling walkway, ears rammed with the sound of speeders zipping along the nearby sky lane, and you caught a whiff of something burning.
Clipping a quick apology to the Twi'lek you bumped diving into the throng of commuters, too busy fiddling with your loose belt to notice, and ducked beneath a sudden cloud of steam.
“Watch it, Disac!” Kori yelled as the vendor flipped flatcakes on his little pan, his stall swarmed with early morning risers like her.
Any other morning you'd stop and savour the sweet smell of Disac's addictive pastries, but this morning the Force and his wife was out to get you. Stupid kriffing chrono. You thought about getting one of the Guard's mechanics to look at it, test it or something. Either fix or smash the damn thing and get a replacement.
“You’re gonna be late again.” Quix chastised as you sidled up to his caf stand, already waving a brown flimsibag in your face, shoving the steaming caf into your hand.
"Stow it." You snapped, snatching the bag, the flimsi cup, and ignoring the frowns of the waiting line as you held him up. “I’m not nearly as disorganized as people think.”
"Mm-hmm." Quix rolled his eyes and you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “And there’s no sand on Tatooine, neither.”
You thrust your finger at him, already backing up. "Uncalled for."
He waved you away, already turning to the next waiting customer, and you twisted, blending into the crowd of commuters seamlessly. Slipping down an alley behind a block of laundromats, chop shops and an old droid accessory store that had been shutdown for as long as you’d lived on this level.
The alley stank of trash, the garbage stacked up against the wall and toxic graffiti decorated the permacrete, all the colours, the trippy patterns overlapping from so many designs added over the years. A shortcut you'd never take at night and hesitantly during the day, shadows flickering despite the bright morning light, but desperate times and all that.
The shortcut spat you out on the main platform. Noise from the sky-lane louder as all kinds of different speeders and transports buzzed past, kicking up a light wind that ruffled the loose strands framing your face, further freeing your tempestuous hair. Fluttering happily at the back of your head and your brown pinched frustratedly each time you glimpsed a reflection in the passing transparisteel shopfronts.
Reaching the station just in time to hear the maglev’s screeching along the rails inside and a half-desperate half-frustrated choke rumbled in the back of your throat. Shifting your breakfast and caf into one hand, you fumbled for the security tag on your belt, flashing it quickly at the barriers and racing through unimpeded, heart skipping as you slipped through the closing doors and stumbled onto the hovertrain with seconds to spare.
Made it. You smiled proudly to yourself as you glanced up, the expression falling away as one or two fellow travellers eyed you, the commotion you caused, and twisted into an awkward purse of your lips as you squeezed past a brown-skinned Ithorian with a long sloping neck and overly hunched back.
You walked between the durasteel compartments until you reached the forward carriage, a dozen or so nat-born officers wearing the olive-drab uniform of the Grand Army clustered onto the vacated seats, chatting over datapads and combing their hair into little caps. Their black boots shining and spotless.
Sinking into the closest empty seat, you dropped your head back against the thick viewport and blew out a relieved breath. Balancing the brown bag on your lap as the hovertrain smoothly raced between the looming skyscrapers decorating the city-planet, unfolding the lip and reaching inside for the waiting breadroot.
The white-coloured patty crumbled as you pulled it out, folding a napkin around the base and taking a large bite as the train dodged around the base of a thick scraper shaped like a water canteen. Swallowing it down with a sip of caf. Sugary and sweet just the way she liked. Quix knew how to take care of her.
The hovertrain stopped once before officially entering the military district, spilling more nat-born officers into the carriage. A hint of grey navy uniforms mixing with the olive and you ignored them as the seats slowly filled. Each of them taking one look at the red and white and keeping a wide berth. The seats either side of you left vacant, even if some remained standing.
"You're a rarity." A Chandrilan grinned across the carriage from you, leaning on his elbows to peer down at the uniform you wore, the train beginning to move. “Don’t see many pretties like you in the Guard.”
You finished your next bite and plastered a sweet smile across your cheeks. "Probably because they're all avoiding you."
The shot drew the attention of his closest companion, another boy who didn’t look old enough to have left the academy with long dark hair and a hooked nose.
“She’s feisty.” The Chandrilan grinned, leaning forward on his knees. “I like em with a bit of bite.”
“Not worth it, Trux.” His companion dissuaded, “She spends all day surrounded by clones.”
“Exactly.” Trux snickered, “I’m hoping a little of their tenacity rubbed off on her.”
“Does she get a say in it?” You sighed exhausted, barely finishing your morning caf and shoved the remnants in the brown bag. “Cause if so, she says no.”
“Come on, how ‘bout it?” Trux offered, knees parted wide as he leaned back against the viewport, blocking the view of the station they pulled into, finger tapping the inside of his thigh. “I’ll bet I’m more fun than the meat droids you serve.”
Your eyes narrowed, glancing the man up and down, the arrogant curve of his lip grating at you, and your lips twitched in a savage response when someone called your name.
Glancing sideways, your snarl softened into a grin as a slimy, lolling tongue greeted you. Slipping off the bench to kneel on the grungy floor of the train, hands spread for the loveable massif.
Grizzer glanced up at his master, whiny noise gurgling in the back of his throat, Hound's angled helmet catching the look and with a single nod he released the handles of the crinkled bag wrapped around Grizzer's pudgy legs.
The massif bounded excitedly along the carriage to your waiting hands, his bulk threatening to knock you back as he nuzzled into you, bringing a bright giggle to your lips and you cupped his fuzzy cheeks. Rubbing scratches along the spikes jutting up his back.
"I thought they weren't letting animals onto the subrail unless they could be carried in a bag?" You frowned up at Hound, finding his helmet now crooked under his arm.
His brown eyes, however, were locked on Trux, his scruffy white hair dyed to match the plains of his armour and showing dark at the roots, the little scar crossing his lip curled with his sour expression.
"He is in a bag." The clone grunted gruffly and you glanced over the plasteel wrapping around Grizzer, four holes cut out for his legs and claws, the handles hanging limp.
Tail thwipping against the sides.
Hound thrust his chin out towards Trux. “You know this guy?”
You rose back to your seat, the massif sitting himself at your feet, shuffling closer into his huge head nuzzled along your thigh, pawing at your leg until you continued stroking his chin. Black eyes blinking happily.
Trux had shrunk back to his companions the second Hound approached and you couldn't help the satisfied smirk pooling onto your cheeks.
“We were just getting acquainted.” You answered, “Apparently he likes them with a bit of bite.”
Hound crossed one arm over the other and dropped onto the bench beside you, still eyeing the man warily, extending his legs out in front of him.
"Grizzer." Hound called and the massif snapped to attention, the bag crumpling. “Go introduce yourself.”
Alarm rippled through you, hand striking out to catch Hound's wrist as he pointed, but your plea was lost on deaf ears. The massif had already bounded across the aisle, two massive—clawed—feet up on the bench either side of Trux. Long tongue licking a devastating stripe up his features.
“I think he learned his lesson, Hound.” You panicked as Trux tried shoving the beast off, saliva sticking to his cheeks. The bag hanging limp around Grizzer's feet.
“Better safe than sorry.” Hound shrugged, more interested in the remnants of your breakfast than the pleading noises Trux released.
"Grizzer, heel." A new voice instructed and the massif instantly obeyed, tail wagging like a champ as he came to plop himself down between Hound and the unfamiliar clone.
“That’s Jagger.” Hound introduced, peering suspiciously into the bag and digging out the other half of your patty, giving it a precautionary sniff. “Thinks he’s an ARF.”
“Don’t think.” Jagger scoffed, patting Grizzer's head and the gentle thwap of his tail within the bag returned. “I am an ARF.”
“Shiny one, maybe.” Hound grunted and shoved the pastry in his mouth, dusting the grey plates of his chest piece with crumbs as he struggled to fit the whole thing, spitting more trying to speak and you barely understood him. “Fox is punishing me.”
“What did you do now?”
Hound frowned petulantly, chomping. “Nuffin’.”
“He named one of the new pups Palplatrine and set him to patrolling the Rotunda route.” Jagger explained and grinned toothily when Hound swiped at his arm.
You dug a hand into your bag as the train slowed, fingers wrapping around a little tub, and you snapped it open. Tipping a few treats onto your flat palm and lowering your hand. Grizzer scoffed them up quickly as Hound rose, leaving a slob of spit in your open hand.
"Come on, boy." Hound lifted the straps of the plasteel bag, pulling it taught, and Grizzer made a protesting noise. "Grizzer."
You flashed Hound a wink as he twisted his helmet back on. "Think he likes me better."
"That's basically treason." Hound snorted, the train stopping completely.
"What are you gonna do?" You reached forward, wiping your hand on the fall of Hound's kama, smiling prettily. "Arrest me?"
"I'll bet you look incredible in a pair of binders."
Jagger suppressed a choked noise as your jaw dropped, the doors sliding open, staring agape at the ARF trooper as he disembarked the train. Chucking you a lazy salute through the viewport, your cheeks a flush pink as you twisted back around.
Your eyes falling on the sopping mess Grizzer left Trux in, his uniform darkened where he used it to wipe the spit off. A sullen look pinching his brows together and it brought a small smile to your lips. At least he's good for something.
Then the doors pinged and your heart skipped a beat. "Kriff, that's my stop."
@corrieweek SFW Day 4 Prompt: Grizzer dividers by @saradika-graphics
Lefty wasn't much of a animal lover - especially when they lived in a waste bin and the first thing they did was try and eat him. But he also woke up in a dumpster and felt like biting someone, so maybe he shouldn't be so hard on her.
Also, she didn’t give him much of a choice, following him without ever asking for permission.
Day 3. Tooka cats
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