wannabe: star wars reader insert

happier

-started 19 May, 2020
-based on my old drafts from 9 April, 2020

Translations:
-'vod' means 'brother' in Mando'a

𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙬𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙠𝙚, 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙠.-The Cave, Mumford & Sons

The strong stench of death sticks and spice had an intoxicating effect. It made (Y/n) want to collapse and gag as well as casually stumble out of the bar, coughing as if she contracted a deadly disease.

Force did (Y/n) hate this mission. It wasn't that she didn't like going on missions without her master, it was just that she wished she had a say in which to take. If it were up to (Y/n), she'd personally pick the one on Naboo that only had to do with standing guard during a meeting or something along those lines. Although the mission was relatively fair and clean-cut, there were too many loop holes and chances for it to go wrong. In one of those unfortunately true scenarios, the target wandered into the bar. Which so happened to be filled with infamous criminals known across the galaxy.

As Jesse would probably say, she was 'straight-up not having a good time'.

"Say it isn't true." (Y/n) grumbled to herself. Vaughn, one of the clones currently under her command, wheezed. He pulled up the collar of his cloak in a weak attempt to block out the strong smells. "Unfortunately, it is, Sir." Henry, another clone assigned to the mission, scanned the crowds of shady people with a deep frown. He couldn't help but feel as though something were to go wrong. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a cloaked figure reach for their blaster. His eyes widened, and with the force of a mountain, he tackled Vaughn and (Y/n) to the ground. The blast narrowly missed his commander's head by three centimetres.

All chatter came to an abrupt stop. Eyes bounced from the trio glued flat on the greasy floor to the criminal with the smoking blaster. (Y/n) furrowed her brows. Wait, smoking?, she thought. It was then that she took note of the beeping coming from not only the blaster, but the criminal's various pouches. "Get up." (Y/n) ordered. She crawled to her feet, pulling Vaughn and Henry to her sides. "Move!" With as much strength as she could muster, she shoved the two behind an overturned table. Before (Y/n) could join, the blaster exploded, sending chunks of metal and bloody flesh flying. Glasses once filled with exotic alcohol shattered in faces, sending the blade-like bits scattering into unfortunate souls. For moments, the bar was a mix of reds, yellows and oranges, then, a dark black and gray.

Henry frantically peered through the smoky haze, squinting and waving his hands to clear the smoke. His heart rammed against his chest as he blindly felt around the floor. "(Y/n)?" Vaughn was quick to join his elder brother's side. "(Y/n)?" Said Jedi let out a strained cough. She raised a hand and Force-pushed enough smoke to allow her to make out the faces of her boys. "I am here." she wheezed out. Vaughn swiftly took her by the arms, and with the help of Henry, hauled her to her feet. "Let's get you out of here." Henry said. Together, the trio stumbled out of the bar, the scent of death sticks, smoke, burnt flesh, and spice lingering in the night air. It didn't need to be said that this mission was a complete fail. Each knew the criminal hadn't a chance to survive that blast. It simply wasn't possible.

Henry and Vaughn kept their arms secured under (Y/n)'s. By the way she walked, it was clear that her ankle had been sprained. The city was rather quiet, but no one minded much as it attracted less attention to them. Lights flickered as they passed, casting an eerie glow into abandoned alleyways and sketchy clubs and hotels. Vaughn eyed the rugged homeless wearily. The lined the streets like predators to prey, eyeing and watching anyone who dared to cross paths.