#Corellian Run
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attomicnotblonde · 1 year ago
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EXPLICADO: Conheça TODOS os planetas dos CRÉDITOS FINAIS da série AHSOKA da Disney+
No final da série AHSOKA, da Disney+, somos apresentados a uma surpreendente sequência de créditos, que nos leva a uma jornada pelos diferentes planetas que fazem parte desse universo ficcional.
AHSOKA é uma série de grande sucesso que continua a história da lendária Jedi Ahsoka Tano, que já conhecemos de outras produções do universo Star Wars. Nessa sequência final, somos levados a conhecer todos os planetas que foram explorados ao longo da narrativa da série, dando um vislumbre mais aprofundado do mundo em que essas histórias se desenrolam. Essa iniciativa da Disney+ em mostrar os créditos de forma mais detalhada contribui para expandir e enriquecer ainda mais o universo de AHSOKA, permitindo que os fãs mergulhem de forma completa nesse universo fantástico. É uma maneira de prestar um tributo aos planetas e suas características únicas, reconhecendo a importância que eles têm para a trama e valorizando toda a construção desse mundo ficcional. Os créditos finais de AHSOKA trazem uma beleza visual impressionante, com imagens dos planetas que com certeza despertam a curiosidade dos espectadores para explorar ainda mais esse universo. É uma forma de reconhecimento e gratidão aos criadores e artistas que deram vida a esses planetas, enriquecendo a experiência dos fãs e proporcionando um final visualmente impactante para a série.
Vem ficar por dentro de tudo, assistindo o vídeo abaixo:
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sw5w · 1 year ago
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There's So Many! Do They All Have a System of Planets?
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STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:50:04
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thereisnosp00n · 1 year ago
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Okay. So I'm finally getting around to reading the Star Wars Legends book Shadow Hunter, and usually with these books the narrator uses different voices for different characters. Sam Witwer decided to use basically his own voice for one of them and I'm like "Huh... well... like... I'm just going to... imagine that character as you I guess????"
So then Darth Maul is trying to track this character down and intimidates a bartender into giving him info about the guy and...
"Describe this Lorn Pavan."
"Tall, muscular. Black filamentous cilia on his scalp but not on his face. Brown ocular pigmentation. The females of his species would probably characterize him as handsome."
Me, wading through all that flowery language to realize they're just describing a good-lookin' dude with black hair and brown eyes:
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If you didn't know, this is the narrator.
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So the narrator made a choice.™
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elijah-loyal · 11 months ago
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jesus christ the dating system star wars uses for years is literally fucking hell
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doolallymagpie · 1 year ago
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alana riktov: *wearing a t-shirt that says "i read the supercommando codex and i'm making it everyone's problem"* a lot of you laserbrains are asking questions already answered by my shirt
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tathrin · 4 months ago
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Don't forget Susejo, the guy whose consciousness merged with the sarlacc after he fell into the Great Pit of Carkoon four thousand years ago so that they ended up a mish-mash of mind-fragments from all the people who'd ever been eaten by said sarlacc, and who had fun mentally torturing Boba Fett while he was digesting him until Fett blew-up his jetpack to get out! Susejo is one of my favorite bits of EU weirdness.
Or the spider-monks taking people's brains!
Also, robot replica Leia with laser eyes.
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"They're ruining Star Wars now!"
Buddy, when I grew up, I read books about how Palpatine had a son with three eyes. And then there was another guy with three eyes, who was impersonating Palpatine's son! Or one time Luke Skywalker was in love with a Jedi ghost! Or when C-3P0 wrote a song about how great Han was, and sang part of it for Princess Leia!
You wouldn't last an hour in the hive of scum and villainy where they raised me.
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maxwellatoms · 9 months ago
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Star Citizen has finally gotten to the point where I can be dumb in my preferred way. I guess it's "atmospheric RP". Here I am playing a bored, surly security guard who admonishes people for running in the spaceport. I ended up meeting a few cool people and eventually bled-out in a drippy tunnel under some Hurston distribution center. Good times.
Back in the SWG days, my favorite character was a big Mon Calamari that I planted in the bar on Naboo. His shtick was that he was drunk and always losing his shirt. In the most entertaining way I could, I'd then beg for money and generally make a nuisance of myself. By then end of a play session, I'd usually have an inventory bursting with Corellian Brandy and shirts. I would then promptly lose the shirts and start anew. One time, I got "stuck" under the landing gear of a shuttle and there was a whole rescue operation to get me out. It was a fun community.
I don't know what pushes me to be social in games in ways I just won't in real life. I guess it's the mask.
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orangez3st · 10 days ago
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Roomie Advantages
ARC Trooper Fives × F!Platonic!Reader 
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Summary: You're dead exhausted after a family event. Luckily your roommate Fives is a domestic life kinda guy in training. Rating: Teen and Up - 16+ for (casual) sex related talks Tags: roommate au, platonic relationship, brief talk about sex, quality time, silly roommate dynamics, this one is less feely and immersive from usual bcs i too am exhausted irl, the war is over and everything's good but the details are vague au Word Count: 2.1k A/N: Ah a surprise x reader drop! Less immersive this time, more like for self indulgence purposes. I didn't quadruple check this, but enjoy all the same you guys. Guess who just got home from a Lunar New Year gathering and whipped up a self indulgence platonic fic instead of working on another priority WIP and/or sleeping? Also I wrote this half awake. Inspired by @/hellfiresky's Fox platonic fic (vod it's crazy good I'm obsessed).
divider by me
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Fives takes his headphone off – the upbeat music fading away and still ringing through the cushions thanks to its blatantly loud volume – and that's when he catches the shower running. 
Oh good, you're home. You were gone for an annual family gathering today, leaving him alone to look after your apartment and its shared spaces. It's nearing midnight, and he was just getting worried if you were kidnapped on the way home or something.
As your roommate, of course he cares. And that he's not a mean person too.
That's what you said in your first meeting with the ARC trooper. It was in one of the clone friendly places below the surface – a Corellian buckwheat noodle shop whose owner is a pro-clone and gives 70% off for clones – that you happened to haunt as well. He went in with his brothers, got a few spiked soda themselves, and you both met.
“What, you think I look so big and mean with all these pauldrons and extra plates?” he joked, flexing his already beefy arms at you.
You laughed heartily. “Kinda. But I don't think you're mean, Lieutenant.”
That was during the War. And now it's over. The Separatists lost, the former Chancellor was a Sith lord (apparently that means evil Jedi somewhat), and the political movement in the Senate hurriedly circled around oh no there are 6 millions excess of these copy paste expendable dudes because the war is over they're jobless whatever shall we do and of course of course, some rallied to fight for their rights.
And honestly, you're happy for the outcome too.
You've grown soft for these clones, especially Fives and his band of brothers. Thanks to them you're up to date with news around the Grand Army of the Republic. It makes you a little prouder that you're all knowing with all these restricted tea.
The Senate is still working on the bills part by part. The troops get nice things that you can't count but you're grateful enough, but one thing you know is that they aren't allowed to purchase or own their own dwelling under their name yet. So you offer your interest in a roommate to share the rent. Fives is giddy to take it. And with their limited stipend, you volunteer to take on the larger cut.
Fives strides out of his room, clad in hoodie, shorts and socks, and raps on the refresher door.
“Yeah hi,” you reply from the inside as you're lathering your body up with soap. Fives' body wash (a mid branded one just so he's happy for not using GAR bar soap) is just next to yours. “What is it?”
“Need to number one,” Fives says plainly.
“You're kidding me,” you deadpan, slumping, almost wanting to shout and just do it over the sink in the kitchen.
“Yeah I'm kidding.” His mouth splits into his signature shit eating grin. “It's so late though. You want anything?”
You're always touched at the way he always asks about you. He just knows you're tired. He probably can hear how tired you are from behind the door.
But you're smiling, eager to know as you ask back, “Ya making something?”
“I dunno,” he replies, and you hear a little scratching as if he's rubbing the back of his head to release his sheer awkwardness. “Probably not. But offer still stands. You want anything?”
You lift an eyebrow as you think. “I dunno. Water I guess?”
“Hot chocolate?” he offers instead.
You reel your head back slightly at the better suggestion. “Yeah actually that sounds good.”
“Okay.”
Then he's gone.
By the time you complete your shower and put your clothes on (in a similar fashion to Fives' hoodie shorts socks combo because the Coruscanti artificial weather's a bit chilly lately), Fives is already pouring the hot chocolate into two mugs.
“Nice,” you grin, “If you didn't make one for yourself I'm turning on the stove again.”
Fives scoffs, slamming into your shoulder playfully on his way to the sink. “Bold of you to assume I'm doin’ that.” You watch him swirl some water in the used pot. He turns to you again, leaning back against the counter this time. “So? Is the family gathering shit this year?”
You roll your eyes at his pleased and hopeful grin. Ass. “To be honest it's less festive than usual – I have no idea why. Maybe because it's a little later than usual because you just don't expect the annual gathering to start at 1500, do you?’
“I don't have a family to hold an annual gathering with like you but I get your point.”
“Procrastinating, am I right?” you sigh, and your glance still finds Fives listening to you with a surprising amount of attention. A complaint jumps out of your mouth as you continue, a tinge of sadness latches onto your tone, “And they didn't clear out the table for sabacc. I prepped chips for nothing.”
“Aw, poor you,” Fives coos, walking over to your spot, “So you were… what, just talking?”
You sit at one of the high chairs. Fives moves the hot chocolate mugs over. “The house we're at got Spintendo Spwitch installed to the holoscreen. Played SpustDance the whole day, my muscles are all strained.”
Fives snorts as he watches you stretch your arms and roll your shoulders. “How many songs did you play?”
“I think ten or twelve.”
“Dude,” he looks at you, “You don't even dance.”
“Hey there were instructions.”
“I'm expecting high scores.”
“Oh you bet.”
Fives reaches to pat the top of your head in appreciation but you swat his arms away, the ache in your shoulders only worsening. “Ow, Fives you little shit–”
“Oh now you're blaming me.” Stars you just wanna flick that stupid number tattoo out of his skin.
You kick his thigh. He doesn't even flinch. It leaves you a little disappointed as you mumble your complaints into your hot chocolate.
Fives still reaches out to pat you. You don't stop him this time. As you're sipping your drink slowly, mug clutched with sweater paws, you meet his sincere amber brown gaze as you nod your head following his pats – repeatedly, appreciatively. Fives is a handsome guy. Anyone would be lucky to have him, but you're settling comfortably enough having him as a roommate. He helps around a lot.
“You want a massage or something?” he offers, proving your point straight in your face.
You raise your eyebrows.
“Not an expert, but I can relieve some of that tension?” His hand slides down to the back of your shoulders and tries to clutch it, and you feel kinda numb (it hurts everywhere). The frown between Fives' eyebrows has never been that deep so far within the week. “Stars, you're stiff.” He grins teasingly. “Your little gremlin nephews givin’ you trouble? You were really working on those high scores, weren't you? Come on.”
You wait until he turns around to move to the couch before you swat his butt.
“HEY!”
You jump off the chair and follows him to the living room couch with your mug (properly clutched with your fingers instead of your slippery sweater paws). “That massage. Better be good as an apology.”
“Psshh don't worry. It's gonna be good for all you know.” You can hear the smile, so energetic, spilling out of his mouth. He plops down on the couch and pats at his thighs, his gaze silently expectant of you to just follow.
You sprawl across his lap stomach down.
Fives clicks his tongue annoyingly. “Not like that you idiot.”
His beefy thighs meet your exhaling breath before you bite down, drawing a very unmanly surprised yelp out of the ARC.
You look up at him seriously as you complain, “From your position it's not even how those people do it!”
Fives rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Fiiineee you're right.”
He very easily lifts you off his lap before he twists his body around and lands on the rug next to the couch on his knees. “Where do you want me?”
“Backside,” you mumble into the soft cushions of your couch, “Kidding. My arm.”
“I mean I wouldn't refuse.”
You successfully shove a hand into his face and with your palm pressed ingloriously against his lips, his mouth opens and his tongue sweeps across your hand.
“EW GROSS!” you squeal, retracting your hand as if you're touching a burning hot pan. As the little shit throws his head back in satisfied laughter, you can't hold your stupid smile either. You wipe your hand on his blue hoodie. “And you're disgusting.”
Fives lets loose the last of his chuckle as he starts to take your arm, his thumbs pressing and gliding against your tense muscles.
“Oh okay that does feel good,” you mutter as you sink deeper into the couch. Though your position on the couch is shit and probably giving him a little hard time on the angle of approach, plus the pressure is muffled by your hoodie, it still feels nice all the same. You're feeling spoiled and man isn't that just good after an exhausting day acting not being an ass.
“You definitely overdid your SpustDance game today,” complains your roommate again. “If this doesn't work you’ll need a huge orgasm to–” he pats your stiff shoulder “–loosen all these.”
You don't open your eyes. Harmless sex jokes are regulars in your shared space. “Not feeling it this week.”
“Really?” He's surprised. “You're a weirdo.”
“Hey if y'all wanna hit me, do it a week after my period. Promise I'll go feral.”
He scoffs under his breath. “Bet, roomie. Bet.”
It's just weird neither of you has made the move to be steamy. Fives has probably walked in on you changing a handful of times, but he treats it as casually as backing away and muttering sorry loud enough for you to hear. You appreciate that, and you appreciate and bask in the whole lot of friendly comfort he seems to exude all around him. He's one of those disciplined and respected men in the army (you're surprised considering how much of a little shit he is in real life) and you keep up with that.
You cherish this friendship. So much that if he finally earns his rights to get his own place, you don't even want him to move out. Or that it'll take a long time for you to come around the fact. You don't mind his presence, and honestly you just hate how lonely your apartment's gonna be.
What you don't know is that he's feeling the same. Fives is forever grateful that you even wanted to take him in, when many other civilians don't, and he cherishes your friendship just as much, probably a pinch more. He does his shared chores out of duty, treating your apartment as not only merely shared space but his home.
Your presence grounds him in this new life. You guide him the domestic basics; grocery run, laundering his own clothes, cooking, and many others that are relatively new to his skill set list. Fives can't be grateful enough, he thinks, and you're just… there, helping him without expecting so much from him. That's all he needs.
And that he feels the need to just annoy you out of nowhere – out of his fondness and cuteness aggression, really – by climbing onto your back and just flop down on your body.
You wheeze. “KRIFF FIVES YOU'RE HEAVY– GEROFF–”
Fives smiles into your hoodie. “Nah I'm good.”
You relax your body after an attempted squirm to get him off. Oh he's not that heavy. It's actually nice. “Whatever,” you mumble into the couch, total exhaustion and sleep creeping into your now relaxed muscles.
“Yeah?” he asks aloud.
“Uh huh,” you sigh, “Okay bye night I'm dozing off.”
For once he doesn't even protest as if he's the one suffering. You wonder if he's comfy in this position too. “Sweet dreams, roomie,” he plays along, probably playing on his sleepy tone of voice too.
And you know that he's just gonna carry you to your bedroom later. Because he too is a gentleman like that.
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Taglist: @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @msmeredithrose
A/N: You can request for x reader in my askbox! If you're interested in my clone x reader oneshots you can sign up as well to be tagged of future works. (Link provided)
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stillsolo · 11 months ago
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             𝙸𝙵 𝙷𝙰𝙽 𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙾 𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙰 𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙴𝚁 𝙼𝙰𝙽 ,  he would’ve agreed, laying approval on thick while putting a thinly-veiled sarcastic spin on the words, testament to a decades-old resentment seething between clenched teeth.  but han solo was no lesser man.  whatever gripes he had against anakin skywalker had simmered down years ago, snuffed out by the eventual friendship they naturally cultivated over a shared passion in piloting and mechanical engineering.
anakin's ( not-infrequent ) former threats of ‘NOCTURNAL ASSASSINATION’ or ‘SUDDEN AERIAL DEMISE’ now seemed like distant echoes of another life.  sometimes, it even prompted a few chuckles. who could have predicted that the man han once regarded as the greatest living threat to his entire being would end up becoming not only his father-in-law, but one of his closest friends?
if only the bastard wasn’t so possessive of his grandchildren.
❝yeah, he’d like that,❞ han drawled, rolling his eyes even as his boy worked himself into a fit of wheezing giggles, flushing his whole face ruddy.  the sight tugged at the corner of his mouth.  ❝the man’s a menace, hellbent on outdoing me in anythin’ and everythin’.❞  like loving his filswikin' kid.
and to think anakin had initially rejected luke’s proposal of having a neo-genetically engineered grandchild, vehemently refusing to entertain the mere concept for months.  it took numerous concessions before anakin finally relented, a stark contrast to his swift acceptance of matthew post-delivery, showering him with all the unconditional love and acceptance only a true parent could ever offer.
              ❝next time he says that, we're haulin' jets back to corellia.  learn your old man’s native tongue, boy.  you’re killin’ me over here.❞
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would a sanlo cook these bugs better? matt wonders to himself as he snatches up a few finger thick, crisped millipedes and stuffs them into his mouth. matt studies his old man, munching thoughtfully, as weighs his options. should he tease his dear dad or to leave him be? unluckily for Han, this round of creepy crawlies is pleasantly delicious, and that's enough to help Matt make his choice.
his lopsided grin grows all the wider as he lifts his own glass of blue milk and reaches across the table to clink glasses with the brandy in his father's hand before he takes a swig.
"maybe —" hazel eyes twinkle with cheeky amusement, "—i'm more death starian than corellian."
his shoulders shake with barely contained laughter as he continues, "gran'pa seems to think i might even be more tatooinian, like him."
another three lanky crisped bugs make their way into Matt's mouth, and he chews them down with a wide smile that speaks of playfulness. maybe he'll be more corellian with his food choices tomorrow. today at least, his adventurous appetite seems to be anything but.
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archfey-edda · 1 year ago
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I just finished the fic lately, do you reckon the survivor gang are going to run into news on what happened to the Corellian Jedi temple once they arrive?
Uh... I forgor :(
In all honesty, the Corellian jedi entirely skipped my mind when writing. It was just the first name for a location that I remembered. But I do imagine that after learning that the other temple is gone, probably soon after sneaking out of the ship, they simply continue running like they first planned. Survival first, mourning comes later.
On a more silly note -
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wanderinginksplot-writes · 1 month ago
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Gar Cyare Chapter Twenty
You and Alpha travel to Coruscant for the trial. Nothing is quite the same as you remembered it.
Alpha-17 x fem!reader
Word Count: 6,500
Warnings: Nervousness, descriptions of space flight, made up descriptions of space flight, made up judicial proceedings, descriptions of a planet at war, feelings of alienation and displacement, loneliness, price-gouging
Previous | Next | Masterlist
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Coruscanta (Coruscant)
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“Are you okay, neverd’ika?” Alpha asked, resting a hand over the fists you had clenched in your lap. 
You mustered a smile. “Yes, I’m fine. This is just… the first time I’ve left Kamino since I got here. It feels strange to be leaving. To have left.” 
Watching the water-covered surface of Kamino disappear into the distance had been a nerve-wracking experience. Alpha had asked several times if you were afraid of hyperspace travel, clearly picking up on your discomfort, but you had truthfully told him that you had no problem with hyperspace flights. 
No, leaving Kamino made you think of a permanent departure. Despite your best efforts, it would probably happen soon. Jaiss had asked about scheduling a meeting when you were on Coruscant, and you were sure that she wanted to speak with you about finalizing the report. 
The trip from Kamino to Coruscant was not quick or easy. There were numerous star systems that you had to skirt around, and the gravity wells would only grow denser as you approached the Core Worlds. 
Fortunately, the Republic had authorized one of their faster ships, and you were granted access to the Corellian Run hyperspace lane. Even so, the trip would take roughly three days. You were scheduled to spend a full week on Coruscant, but with your own ship, that time could be lengthened or shortened as needed depending on how the trial went. 
Trial. 
Your stomach twisted every time the word floated to the surface of your mind. 
“Breathe,” Alpha murmured, thumb rubbing over the stark peaks of your straining knuckles.
The two of you were in the small seating area between the cockpit and the bunks. There were two pilots in the cockpit, which was designed to stay enclosed. You had been quietly amused by that when you stepped aboard - did the Republic think there was a risk that you and Alpha would have stolen the ship and disappeared if left to your own devices? 
Fortunately, you had thought better of it before you pointed that out to Alpha. The idea of being a suspect for desertion probably wouldn’t have struck him as being as funny as it did to you. 
There was a small kitchen opposite the seating area. It was little more than a flash-reheater, a conservator, and a sink, but it meant that you wouldn’t be eating ration bars for the entirety of your journey, so you thought it was beautiful. 
When you had peeked into the barracks, it had held four bunks, but Alpha had already informed you that the pilots would switch off. Each one would get eight hours to sleep, then they would share the cockpit for another eight before the cycle continued. 
You had been a little awed when you asked Alpha how he knew. He had scoffed lightly. “Standard troopers are trained to follow orders, not to think for themselves. Pilots can be a little more difficult to anticipate, but not much. They’ll stick to that schedule because it’s how they were instructed, and how the regulations say to work a flight of this length.”
There was a lot in that statement that made you want to ask questions, but you were preoccupied by other matters. All you had caught was that they had a definite routine, which meant that you and Alpha were free to spend as much time together as you wanted. As long as you tracked when the pilots were due to be passing through on their way to the bunks, you would probably be fine. 
“Are there recorders on Republic transports?” you asked suddenly. It was such a natural continuation of your internal thoughts that it seemed plain to you, but Alpha gave you a strange look. “Visual or audio?” 
“Of course,” he confirmed. “The Republic wants to know everything that happens aboard one of their ships, and if the ship is attacked, they want to know what happened.” 
“Do you still have your disruptor puck?” you asked, much quieter. 
Alpha nodded. “Never go anywhere without it.” 
“I’m surprised they haven’t figured you out yet,” you said, unable to keep the note of admiration out of your voice. 
“They may have,” Alpha said with a shrug. “But no one wants to formally call me out on it. If they did, they would have to admit that there is a way to disrupt their recording devices. The damage that knowledge would do is much worse than anything I might be doing while they can’t observe me.” 
“You know, we have several days with nothing else to do,” you pointed out, watching the shadows cast by hyperspace form under Alpha’s raised eyebrow. “You could teach me how to make a disruptor of my own.” 
“I could,” Alpha agreed, in a leading tone that made you narrow your eyes at him. “But you’ll have to do something for me in return.” 
For a wild moment, you thought Alpha was going to say something lascivious. Admittedly, you were intrigued, but it would be tricky to avoid the pilots…
Then he said, “You have to show me civvie life on Coruscant.” 
The surprise made you blink at him, but you valiantly tried to recover. “Civilian life, really? I thought you weren’t interested.” 
“I don’t trust you to choose a holofilm anymore, but the rest of it?” Alpha shrugged. “You’re the expert. And you lived on Triple Zero for a while. I trust you to show me what I should see.” 
Possibilities raced through your mind. It had been a while since you were last on Coruscant, but it would be nice to show Alpha some of your favorite places… “Okay, that sounds like fun! It’s a deal.” 
Alpha nodded, but his eyes were fixed on yours with an intensity that made you nervous. “What did you think I was going to ask?” 
You felt your face heat and reflexively looked away. “Nothing.” 
That, of course, didn’t work. With a renewed interest sharpening his voice, Alpha leaned forward and pressed, “Didn’t seem like nothing. Seemed like you had something very specific in mind.” 
You shook your head, still refusing to look at him. “Nope, it was definitely nothing.” 
Alpha gave a skeptical hum, letting his thigh press more heavily against yours. “Too bad. Though you were gonna be brave. Tell me, me’copaani?” 
Alpha must have influenced you more than you thought. Being lightly accused of cowardice put you on-edge, and then the soft entreaty to tell him what you wanted? You couldn’t help but respond. 
You rested your hand on Alpha’s thigh in a way that could have been casual, if it weren’t so high up toward the juncture of his legs. He gave a low groan. 
You met his eyes and lifted a brow, your lips curving into a playful smile. “Maybe it’ll be another fun civvie thing to show you once we get to Coruscant.” 
Alpha’s spine stiffened slightly as you leaned into his lap to give him a kiss, but he returned it eagerly. When you pulled back, he tried to follow, stopping only when you turned your head away teasingly.
“Anytime,” he growled fervently. “Just tell me where and when. I’ll make it happen.” 
You laughed, giving his thigh a squeeze and a pat before you removed your hand. “For now, let’s just focus on those disruptors.” 
That work kept you busy over the next few days, especially since you could only work on it while the pilots were in the cockpit or the bunks. They didn’t spend much time in the common areas of the ship, but they emerged for food or to use the ‘freshers fairly often. Alpha had been right about their schedules, though, and avoiding them was easy enough. 
By the time you were warned to strap in for the descent into Coronet City, you had created an array of three disruptors. The largest one was for your room on Kamino, the second largest was for your office, and the smallest was for you to carry on your person. 
Alpha had been a remarkably patient teacher, but he had insisted that you learn how to do everything yourself. He hadn’t taken over, even when you were stuck on a step and frustrated about it. But he had taught you how to get past every problem and fix every mistake you made along the way. You had even made your last disruptor while Alpha was sleeping, as a way to test yourself. 
When Alpha had examined the finished product, he had announced that he was proud of you. He had also added that he would have you make disruptors for him in the future, but you mostly focused on the pride. 
The sight of the spires and lights of Coronet City made your stomach twist in a combination of nerves and excitement. The landing was steep, but smooth. Since both pilots were in the cockpit to assist with landing, you held Alpha’s hand during the whole process. You really weren’t scared of ships or flying, but you were starting to wonder if you were afraid of Coruscant itself. 
When you were safely on the ground, the pilots announced that you and Alpha could gather your belongings, but that they had to be the ones to release the locks on the doors. 
You had packed light, but Alpha’s bag was little more than a backpack. He was wearing full armor, with the exception of the helmet he carried beneath one arm. He had already explained that he could go to retrieve an extra body glove if necessary, and he needed very little else. Even so, he slung his pack over one shoulder and pulled your larger bag free before you could even reach for it. 
“Don’t leave the hangar yet,” one of the pilots said, pausing on his way off of the ship. “Commander Fox needs a word with you both.” 
You managed to wait until he had left before you turned to Alpha, alarmed. “Fox? The commander of the Coruscant Guard needs to speak with us?” 
Alpha’s brows quirked. “How do you know that Fox is the head of the Corrie Guard?” 
“I was a Senatorial aide,” you reminded. “Some of the Senators had to have security escorts if they were threatened. I only met Commander Fox once, but I’ve worked with the Coruscant Guard quite a bit.” 
Alpha nodded slowly. “Good man, Fox. I’m not sure what he needs from us, but I trust him.” 
That was high praise, coming from Alpha, but your shoulders were still tight with tension as you followed him off the ship. You relaxed when you caught sight of the commander. Fox looked vaguely irritated, and you could see why - Nora was standing beside him with an impish look on her face. 
“Nora!” you greeted. 
The lawyer beamed, stepping forward with her arms already open for a hug. You stepped into them gratefully, happy for the familiarity of someone you already knew. 
“It’s so great to see you in person!” Nora gushed when you pulled back. “And Alpha, of course! He’s a big guy.” 
The last part had been delivered in a whisper, and you nodded emphatically. Sometimes, it was easy to forget how much larger Alpha was than the standard clone troopers, but the difference was especially striking when he was standing next to Commander Fox. 
Fox wasn’t a small man, himself. He was the same height as all of the other troopers, with a sturdy build that spoke of hours spent working on his strength. Fox had always exuded an air of competence, and the sense of authority he carried was noticeable enough to make even hardened criminals think twice about testing him. 
“Fox,” Alpha greeted simply, jerking his chin in recognition. 
“Alpha,” Fox returned. He glanced over and, seeing that you were looking back at him, greeted you by name as well. “I don’t know if you remember, but we met a while ago.” 
“I definitely remember,” you agreed, half-laughing at the idea of forgetting a meeting with Commander Fox. “It’s been a while, though. I’m surprised you remember.” 
Fox’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “I had a vague memory of you, but we’ve gotten more than a few shinies from Kamino since you started working there. They have plenty to say.” 
Your spine straightened reflexively, not sure whether or not that was a good thing.
“The pilot said you needed something from us,” Alpha said, subtly redirecting the conversation. “What is it?” 
Fox nodded slowly. “I thought it would be a good idea to let you both know the expectations for your time here. I’m not sure what she’s doing here.” 
Nora met his sidelong glance with a broad smile. “I heard that Commander Fox would be debriefing you both, so I decided to come along in case there are any questions or information that your counsel should be aware of.” 
“Again, this isn’t a debriefing,” Fox said, sounding tired. “Second, you aren’t their counsel for this trial. They don’t need counsel since neither of them are defendants.” 
“Well, I’m already here,” Nora said bracingly, shooting you a wink when Fox turned away to roll his eyes. 
“Captain, you’ll be staying in the GAR barracks,” Fox started at last. “Since court isn’t in session until tomorrow morning, you have some meetings scheduled for this afternoon. I’ll escort you to them personally. Advisor, the Senate has reserved a hotel room for you near the courthouse. They will update the reservation as needed for your testimony. I’ll transmit the details to your comlink.” 
He glanced back and forth between you and Alpha. “You are both expected to be in the courtroom at nine tomorrow morning. I cannot stress enough that you do not need legal representation.” 
“They’ve already tried to pin this osik on her once, Fox,” Alpha reminded lowly, tilting his head at you so Fox couldn’t possibly misunderstand. “I don’t trust that they won’t do it again.” 
“Much as I hate to agree with the commander,” Nora interjected. “I have to say that Fox has a point. If you come in with obvious legal protection, it could make you a target if their charges against Brid don’t stick.” 
“Could you just be… around?” you asked. 
Nora shook her head regretfully. “The proceedings are closed to the public since the trial is an internal Senate and GAR affair. I will give you some pointers about questions you should and should not answer, though. We’ll go out for dinner tonight, the three of us. After Alpha’s meetings, of course. Unless you’d like to come along, Fox?” 
Fox gave her a dry look, but didn’t offer any other response. Instead, he said, “The captain’s scheduled meetings will run fairly late in the evening.” 
“Oh, no…” Nora lamented, grinning all the while. “However will we find a Coruscanti restaurant that’s open after sunset?” 
Fox shook his head and looked back at you and Alpha. “Nine tomorrow morning. Alpha, let’s go.” 
Alpha’s eyes were on you and he stepped closer in an effort to speak more privately. Nora cleared her throat and hastily engaged Fox in conversation - and you were fascinated to see that he went along with it. 
“I’ll see you tonight, neverd’ika,” he promised. “Go get settled in the room and I’ll meet up with you and Nora as soon as these meetings are finished.” 
“Are you sure they’ll let you leave?” you asked. “Sounds like they’re trying to keep you occupied.” 
Alpha’s grin held an edge of violence. “They can try all they like. I’m an expert at keeping meetings brief. One way or another.” 
“Okay,” you agreed. “Be…” 
You trailed off. ‘Be safe’ seemed nonsensical. Alpha was going to the GAR headquarters. He would be surrounded by his brothers, many of whom he had worked with in the past or personally trained. Arguably, Alpha would be safer there than anywhere else, but you still fought not to tell him to be safe. 
Alpha seemed to understand. He rested his hand briefly on your shoulder. “You too, little one.” 
The warmth and solid weight of his touch stayed with you long after he had left with Commander Fox. 
You did as Alpha suggested, checking into the hotel room. It was… fine. Nothing fancy, but it was clean and quiet, near enough to the courthouse that you could easily walk there when it was time. You unpacked your outfit for the next day, hanging it up to avoid any creases. You were back on Coruscant, which meant that appearances were everything. 
You found enough to keep yourself occupied for almost an hour. But when your toiletries were arranged and your personal datapad was charging on the bedside table, the room started to feel… wrong. It was too small, and dark, and cluttered. It was hard to to breathe. 
Minutes later, you had gathered your wallet, comlink, and room key. A walk through the city was exactly what you needed to keep your mind off of the stress. 
You set a course through a familiar section of the city, waiting to feel the peaceful sensation of homecoming that had been lacking up to that point. In a perfect world, you would have commed some of your Senatorial aide friends to meet up. But the last you had heard, most of them had left Coruscant. Some had moved on to new jobs while others were part of personal staff for Senators. Since it was currently outside of the Senate’s season, they would only meet up on Coruscant if there was an emergency motion. For the moment, the Senators and their staff were on home planets and estates, or traveling reelection circuits.
It was startling to realize that you didn’t know many people on Coruscant anymore. It was even stranger to realize that you hadn’t lived on Coruscant for well over a year. 
The second realization became more and more apparent as you wandered through Coruscant. When you had left, the discussions of bringing in a clone guard force to augment the Coruscant Security Force had been raging, and there hadn’t been any sign of a consensus. To the displeasure of the CSF - and its union - Chancellor Palpatine had overridden the objections and pushed through a clone regiment. Now, the red-armored Coruscant Guard seemed to be everywhere you looked.
The war had taken its toll on the city in other ways. Every advertisement board switched between ads and governmental PSAs. Announcements about rationing and decreased utilities blared from assorted street corners. Graffiti splashed the walls - usually anti-war or anti-Republic, but you saw a few anti-trooper tags. 
Public services had clearly taken a hit with the budget constraints of waging a war. Every drinking fountain you passed was broken, street lights were out more often than not, and the duracrete sidewalks were starting to crack and crumble along the more popular streets. 
Most notably, plenty of businesses were closed. Some of the places you had loved when you lived on Coruscant were shuttered, a few of the doors bearing announcements that they hadn’t been able to compete in the wartime economy. One of your favorite restaurants had closed and your heart panged. You had planned to take Alpha there during your time on-planet.
Your already-low mood plummeted and you morosely turned back toward the hotel. 
With your inevitable expulsion from Kamino coming up as soon as you submitted the report, you had wanted this trip to be more than it was. You hadn’t realized it at the time, but you had pinned your hopes on Coruscant feeling like home, and using that feeling to bolster yourself about the possibility of returning to a life of semi-normalcy. 
Instead, it was growing more and more apparent that Kamino wasn’t allowed to be your home and that Coruscant no longer felt like the exciting surroundings they once had. Nothing was going as planned, and that made you feel irritable and off-balance. 
And since you were already thinking of unplanned things, it seemed entirely fitting that you didn’t recognize where you were. A combination of closed businesses, changed facades, and partially closed walkways made even the most familiar of streets seem utterly strange to you. 
You swore softly and tucked yourself off to the side, leaning against the railings to avoid passersby while minimizing how much Coruscant grime came away on your clothing. You might be able to find a comlink-accessible map, assuming that the frequencies hadn’t changed…
The sound of your name called in a familiar voice made you turn. When you glanced behind yourself, there was a tall, broad figure cutting easily through the crowd. You smiled. “Alph-”
You cut yourself off, frowning at the approaching trooper. His armor was red, and he made no move to take off his helmet as he stared down at you. More importantly, there was something about his bearing, the way he moved… 
This wasn't Alpha. 
At last, the trooper repeated your name and you nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry, have we met?” 
“I’m here on my brother’s behalf.” 
That didn’t directly answer any of your questions, but there was a suspicion forming in the back of your mind. You had never seen another trooper who could compete with Alpha's height and build, but this unfamiliar armored man was an exact match.
You tilted your head at him, studying the blank visor of his helmet as if you could see his eyes behind it. “You're another Alpha-class trooper, aren't you?” 
He touched his gauntleted hand to his visor, giving a short nod. “Alpha-26, ma'am.”
“Do you have a name, or do you prefer Alpha-26?” You did your best to ask the question without any inflection that could be misconstrued as derision, but you really hoped that he had a name. Preferably not ‘Alpha’, either. That would simply be too strange.
He watched you for a moment, visor unmoving. You did your best not to fidget under the pressure of his hidden gaze. At last, he said, “Maze.” 
“Maze,” you repeated with a smile. “It's nice to meet you.” 
He tilted his head in acknowledgement, but gestured for you to start walking. “Let’s get you out of here.” 
“Is everything okay?” you asked, already hurrying in the direction he had indicated.
Maze was a solid presence behind you. He followed a little further than Alpha usually did, but the similarities were uncanny. “You’re getting ready to testify in a Republic case, possibly linking to Separatist conspiracy. Wandering around in the depths of the city isn’t a smart idea.” 
The idea seemed laughable at first. After all, you were still on the surface of the planet. Things didn’t usually get dangerous above level seventy or so. But you remembered how the Separatists had planted detonators in the Coruscant power grid. You had been on Kamino when it happened, but the news had rocked the galaxy. Coruscant hadn’t been successfully attacked in over a thousand years.
Maybe you weren’t as safe in the city as you had wanted to think. 
You walked a little faster. “Did Alpha send you?” 
“He mentioned that you were here,” Maze said vaguely. “He was kaden because they have him in di’kutla meetings for the whole day.” 
“Yeah, Commander Fox said someone had made sure he had a full schedule.” You glanced around when you got to the next intersection. “Where are we going?”
“Up to you,” Maze said. “But wherever we go, we need to take the long way. I need to check for tails before we get anywhere important.” 
“Is that necessary?” you asked, fidgeting uncomfortably with your wrist comlink. 
Maze alternated between walking beside you and behind you. Since he was currently beside you, you could clearly see his nod. “There’s a humanoid following you. Has been for the last half-hour. I want to check it out before you return to your lodging.”
It was idiotic to glance behind yourself, but you tried until Maze physically blocked your way. In a dry tone of voice you had only heard from Alpha before, he said, “The idea is not to tip anyone off that you see ‘em.”
“Sorry,” you apologized reflexively. “Instinct, I guess.”
Maze hummed noncommittally. “How did you know I was an Alpha-class trooper?” 
It was your turn to answer in a dry tone. “Just a feeling.” 
From the tilt of Maze’s visor in your direction, he wasn’t impressed.
You waved a hand. “Alpha is the only trooper I’ve ever met who is so much larger than the average. I know he’s not the only Alpha-class trooper, so it was pretty easy to guess.” 
Maze was quiet beside you. You had honestly assumed that his attention was on whoever was following you, until he said, “A civvie with critical thinking skills? Wish there were more like you.” 
“That was… almost a kind thing to say,” you replied. 
He shook his head. “Kindness isn’t really what I’m known for. The same used to go for Alpha, but looking at you… apparently, that has changed.”
The idea of anyone but you calling Alpha ‘kind’ was too funny. Maze shushed your laughter. With a stern look, he warned, “You’ll draw attention.”
“If someone is tailing me, I think I already have their attention,” you countered. 
Maze’s sigh reminded you so strongly of Alpha that you laughed again. 
“Doesn’t matter. I was trying to get him close enough to get a good scan of him, but if he gets a look at me, he’s more likely to hang back and blend into the crowd.” Anything you had planned to say in your own defense was cut short when Maze straightened, pushing you onward as he disappeared into the swarm of people surrounding you. “Keep moving. I’ll find him and catch up.” 
Even with his considerable height and the breadth of his shoulders, Maze disappeared into the crowd within seconds. You caught the eye of several curious onlookers, but they lost interest when you just offered them a bewildered shrug. 
You kept going in the vague direction of your hotel, walking alone for long enough that you started to wonder whether Maze had been injured. For a moment, you hesitated, ready to turn back, but a gruff-sounding sigh at your side made you think better of it. 
“Keep walking, civvie,” Maze ordered. 
You did, aiming a curious glance in his direction. In answer to your unspoken question, Maze lifted one armored shoulder. “We’re all good. It was one of Obrim’s boys. Apparently, you’ve been labeled a flight risk.” 
“Obrim?” you repeated. “A flight risk? They think I would run?” 
“Apparently.” Maze seemed unconcerned. “But if it makes you feel better, Seventeen is marked down as the one they would send to retrieve you. So whatever you’ve got going on, you’re keeping it reasonably ranov’la.”
While you were happy that Maze thought you and Alpha were being subtle, you weren’t entirely sure that Alpha would want his brother knowing about his personal life. He could be strange about things like that, and you didn’t officially know how Alpha felt about Maze. 
“Alpha's a great friend,” you said carefully, “but he's a loyal Republic soldier. I'm sure he could find me easily if I decided to do something as foolish as running.”
Maze gave you a look that strongly implied you were losing grip on reality, but he just snorted instead of actually saying anything. 
“Did he send you?” you asked at last. “How did he know I had left the room?” 
“Comlink,” Maze said succinctly. “But Seventeen didn't send me.” 
A sense of foreboding tightened your stomach. “Oh.” 
“I've heard about you,” Maze said, after giving you a minute or two to scan for possible escape routes. “Not from Alpha, but others. Vode who came from Kamino. You're important to him. So you're important to me. I got your comm frequency from one of them.”
“Really?” you asked, forcing yourself to relax as you feigned curiosity. “Who was it?” 
Maze snorted. “Trying to check whether I am who I say I am? Clever civvie. Seventeen didn’t send me. He didn’t have to. He mentioned that you were wandering around the city while he can’t be nearby to keep an eye on things. Seventeen doesn’t do small talk. He mentioned it because he was worried about you. So I came to find you.” 
That made a lot more sense, and your wariness faded. Maze eyed you, shouldering through a group of beings who were blocking the pathway and keeping you falling victim to their disturbed centers of balance. 
“Still don’t trust me?” he asked after you had made it through the crowd. 
“It’s not that I don’t trust you-” you argued.
“But you don’t,” Maze finished, nodding like he had made some kind of decision. “Hold.” 
You were trying to figure out whether to offended by being given a single-word command like a trained massiff while Maze typed a message into his comlink. You had decided to overlook it just as he lowered his arm to his side and watched you expectantly. 
A moment later, your own comlink chimed. When you checked it, you had a message from Alpha: 
I see Maze found you. He’s a di’kut, but he’s not dangerous. You’re in good hands.
You chuckled at that as you glanced back up at Maze. “Fair enough. You’ve been vetted.” 
“What a relief,” Maze said, tone dry. “Let’s get you back to your hotel.” 
A nearby chronometer caught your eye. “I’m supposed to meet Alpha for dinner. Is that something that is still happening, or will his meetings take the rest of the night?” 
“They’ll keep him busy for a while longer,” Maze explained. “But if you don’t want to go back to the hotel, we can go to the GAR headquarters. Alpha can meet you after he’s done.” 
“The GAR headquarters?” you asked, perking up a bit. “Can I take a look around while I wait?” 
“Absolutely not.” 
You must have looked disappointed, because Maze sighed. “Not without an escort. And I suppose I’m not doing anything important right now.” 
The GAR headquarters were dull at first. Everything was painted in varying shades of tan and gray, laid out in a grid pattern that left you both bored and utterly dependent on Maze to lead you through the labyrinth. 
But when you actually paid attention to your surroundings, you found that they were far more fascinating than you had believed at first. Beside every door was a neat little label explaining what you could find inside, and you had read through enough GAR documents to understand the enormity of the operations that were housed in the unassuming building. People you passed in the halls ran the gamut from shiny trooper to famous general, all of them greeting Maze with a salute or a kind word, respectively. 
Maze wasn’t much of a conversationalist. You couldn’t bring yourself to be surprised by that, but it made the trip less of a tour and more of a fun experiment in keeping pace with someone whose legs were so much longer than yours. But he mentioned things here and there, and when you asked him a question about something you saw, he always knew the answer. He reminded you a little of Alpha. 
Then, when one trooper stopped to make conversation with you and got flirtatious, Maze reminded you strongly of Alpha. If that trooper ever spoke to another woman inside the GAR headquarters, you would be surprised. 
“That was a little harsh,” you remarked as the trooper rapidly disappeared from sight. 
“A little?” Maze repeated unhappily. “I’ll have to do better next time.” 
You didn’t actually see Alpha’s approach. You were watching a group of troopers approach from the opposite direction when you saw their eyes slide past you and widen. You turned, horrified that there was a general behind you, someone who would object to a civilian in GAR headquarters regardless of who was accompanying them, but when you turned, it was your boyfriend. 
“Alpha,” you greeted happily. “I was starting to worry that they were never going to let you leave.” 
“They did their best,” he agreed, looking irritated.
Maze glanced down at his comlink. “That why there’s an announcement to keep lookout for you? What did you do - walk out?” 
“Yeah.” 
You gaped while Maze gave an appreciative chuckle. “Good on you - they’d have kept you all night, otherwise.” 
“Aren’t you going to get in trouble for that?” you asked. 
Alpha’s mouth stayed pressed into a grim line, but the corners of his eyes crinkled the way they always did when he was trying not to smile at you too obviously. “I can handle it.”
Maze scoffed. “You two are disgusting. Get out of here before I report a sighting of you.”
Alpha nodded, but stepped close to Maze before they could split too far apart. Alpha spoke lowly in Mando’a, far too quickly for you to keep up. But he clapped Maze on the shoulder when he was done, so you assumed it wasn’t anything too negative. Maze gave him a shallow nod in return. 
Before he could completely turn away, you called, “It was nice to meet you, Maze. Thank you for showing me around.” 
Maze froze, glancing back at you for a long moment. Then he offered you a nod, too, and left.
You smiled up at Alpha. “Ready to go? I can comm Nora about where we’re going, but I’ll need you to lead me out of here. I have no idea where the exit is.” 
Alpha chuckled lowly. “Follow me, neverd’ika.”
Nora had chosen a lovely restaurant for the three of you. 
It was small, especially by Coruscant standards. There couldn’t have been more than a dozen tables in the building, but the atmosphere managed to be cozy and intimate rather than cramped. The effect was helped by plentifull windows that displayed the lights of Coruscant’s cityscape to best advantage. Inside, small lights hanging from the ceiling mirrored the lights outside, giving the impression that the city extended even into the restaurant itself. 
You weren’t shocked when the owner came out to speak with Nora personally, greeting her by name. 
You were shocked by the amount on the bill. It was going to take a substantial chunk of your savings to cover the meals that you and Alpha had enjoyed, but you valiantly grabbed the check anyway. 
Nora snatched it from your hand in an instant. “Oh, no. I chose the restaurant. This is my treat.” 
“I can’t let you do that,” you argued. Alpha watched the discussion with an inscrutable look in his eyes. “It’s too much-”
“If you think that’s too much, you should have seen how much I charged the owner of this place to get out of their legal troubles,” Nora informed you with a smirk. “I think he overcharges me in revenge, but the food is so good that I come back anyway.”
When you left the restaurant, Alpha said goodbye. You stared up at him, dismayed, but he shrugged and explained, “I was given strict orders to stay at the GAR barracks tonight, and I would never disobey a superior officer.” 
Nora snorted, but Alpha looked sincere. You may have even believed him if he hadn’t snuck a wink in your direction and tapped his comlink. 
As Alpha’s hovercab disappeared among the swarming traffic of the Coruscanti skies, your comlink chimed lightly. 
I have to check in at the barracks, then I’ll be at the hotel. ETA one hour.
You didn’t even realize that you were smiling until Nora cleared her throat lightly. “So,” she asked leadingly, “how long have you and Alpha been dating each other?” 
Stars, how did this keep happening to you? And why did it always come up when Alpha wasn’t around? 
“I’m- We’re not-” 
If Nora’s eyebrows arched any higher, they would levitate from her head. “Please. Anyone who has seen the two of you in the same space knows better than that. And, honestly? If you weren’t dating, you would be the biggest idiots in the galaxy. It’s obvious that you both care about each other.” 
You sighed. “Are you going to tell me it’s a terrible idea?” 
“Why would it be?” Nora’s tone was genuinely curious, which lowered your hackles a bit.
“Well, he’s a trooper, permanently stationed on Kamino and I…” You shrugged. “The process of writing that report isn’t going to last forever. I’ll have to leave Kamino eventually, then we’ll never see each other.” 
“I mean, would leaving Kamino be the worst?” Nora asked gently. “I would think you’d be a little happy to come back home.” 
You rubbed the back of your neck. “Is it strange that this doesn’t feel like home anymore? I’ve been gone so long and so much has changed…” 
“That makes sense,” Nora agreed. “Would you stay there if it was an option?”
“In a heartbeat.” You laughed ruefully. “But I haven’t exactly made friends with the Kaminoans. At this point, I’ll be lucky if they don’t permanently ban other Republic officials from the planet.” 
Nora gave a thoughtful sort of hum. “What if you could stay?” 
The simple question sent a wild wave of hope through your chest. “What do you mean?”
“Did you know that parts of your report have spread outside of the Senate?” she asked instead of giving a direct answer. 
“My- It has?” You shook your head, befuddled. “I can’t imagine who would be interested in reading it outside of the Senate. It’s a little… dry.” 
“I agree,” Nora admitted, “but certain parties would beg to differ. Including a group I work with often, Sentient Rights.” 
Your heart was racing. 
“They think you’re doing important work on Kamino,” Nora continued without prodding. “When you’re finished with your report, they want to make sure you stay on Kamino, to prevent any sentient rights violations. What do you think?” 
You hesitated. “Why did you wait until Alpha was gone to bring this up?” 
Nora smiled, shaking her head. “The last thing I want to do is pressure you to stay somewhere you don’t want to be, even if the company makes it tolerable. If Alpha was here when you answered, I’d never know for sure whether you really wanted to stay on Kamino or if you just didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”
“Fair enough.” You thought about the resignation on Riptide’s face and the corresponding helplessness on Colt’s. You thought about the horror and devastation in the voices of Riptide’s squadmates, then about the way Alpha described reconditioning. You gave Nora a firm nod. “Give me their frequency. I’d love to talk with them.” 
“I had a feeling you would,” Nora said with a smile. “Just like I have a feeling that a certain captain will be very unhappy if you’re late to meet him at your hotel room. Have a good night and we’ll talk after the trial.” 
You agreed, thanking Nora for dinner before calling a hovercab. You were still worried about the trial, but the day had given you plenty else to think about.
---
Author's Note - This is the chapter that Tried Not To Be. It was a struggle to write, and I've been trying to post it for three weeks now. Then tumblr and AO3 both tried to get cute when I finally had a chance to work on it. Anyway, sorry for the wait. Hopefully this monstrous chapter was worth it!
If any Legends fans have opinions about how I did with Maze, please feel free to let me know! I tried not to make him an exact copy of Alpha, but I see them as being very similar.
Thanks for reading! The next chapter is still planned to come out at the end of this month, so I'll see you soon!
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sw5w · 1 year ago
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Entering the Naboo System
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STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:01:54
Route of the Radiant VII from Coruscant to Naboo.
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Location of Naboo system within the Chommell sector and the Galaxy at large.
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MOVIE: Episode I - The Phantom Menace TIME: 32 BBY LOCATIONS: Alui, Chommell sector, Colonies, Corellian Run, Core Worlds, Coruscant, Deep Core, Denon, Enarc, Enarc Run, Expansion Region, Hutt Space, Hydian Way, Inner Rim, Iskin sector, Karlinus, Mid Rim, Naboo, Naboo system, Outer Rim Territories, Pax, Quess sector, Unknown Regions, Vilonis sector, Vish sector, Western Reaches, Wild Space ORGANIZATIONS: Galactic Republic, Judicial Forces VEHICLES AND VESSELS: Consular-class cruiser, Radiant VII, Republic cruiser TECHNOLOGY: class 2 Longe Voltrans tri-arc CD-3.2 hyperdrive unit
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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 1 year ago
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Unravelling the Pact
After back-to-back missions, you and the boys finally get some downtime. Enjoying the nightlife on Coruscant, a stranger is all too willing to dance with you, leading to the boys making a decision that will change everything. Pre-Echo.
Pairing: All Batch x f!reader
Word count: 3.6K.
Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!
Warnings: dancing with a stranger in a club, grinding, possessive Batch (but in a non-toxic way), bickering brothers, small insult from a stranger, flirting, pet names, communication and consent are sexy, discussion of poly, first kiss, roaming hands, I guess this counts as friends to lovers?
A/N: I'll die on the hill that Tech and Cross are tube twins, and that Wrecker is a smart/emotionally intelligent man.
This can be read as a stand-alone or as a prequel to Painted Pretty.
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The loud music drowned out the sounds of the city outside, the dancefloor vibrating under your feet from the heavy bass as you moved to the beat.
Nearby, tucked in a booth, the boys kept an eye on you. Dancing wasn’t really their thing, especially after the string of back-to-back missions you’d all been running, but that hadn’t stopped you from wanting to let loose a little more. You’d dragged them out of the hotel, having splurged a little on some rooms with comfortable beds during this period of shore leave, knowing you all needed some R&R.
You’d found an okay-looking club where the boys didn’t draw too much attention – they didn’t look like Regs, which opened up a world of new possibilities, especially once they donned their civilian clothes. Drinks were decently priced, and the floor wasn’t sticky, both of which were a win in your books. You could feel the weight of their gazes on you occasionally, but you paid them little mind. That was their prerogative if they wanted to be sourpusses and stay in the booth.
A year you’d been with them, traversing the galaxy, trying desperately to keep them safe. As their civilian handler, you fed them missions and made sure they came back in one piece – the Kaminoans couldn’t have anything happen to their prized experimental unit, after all – and surprisingly, it hadn’t taken long for them to warm up to you, for you to become one of them. The black Aurebesh ‘99’ Crosshair had inked on your wrist six months ago, while the others crowded around and watched, was a constant reminder of that.
“Uh oh, incoming,” Wrecker grumbled, eyes watching as someone made a beeline through the bar towards you. 
All eyes at the table snapped in your direction. Hunter’s jaw clenched, Tech’s fingers tightened around his datapad, Wrecker sat up straighter, and Crosshair’s eyes narrowed at the man approaching you.
Clammy hands on your waist spooked you a little, and you turned to find the culprit. “You look a little lonely out here.” The man who’d approached you spoke. He was a little taller than you and couldn’t be more than a few years older, with tousled blonde hair and green eyes. His smile was warm, as was his body as he pressed closer. “Dance with me.” He insisted, shifting behind you, sliding an arm around your waist to pull your back to his chest and your ass to his crotch, the pair of you now moving to the beat.
At the booth, the boys bristled. Downing the last of the Corellian whiskey he’d been nursing, Crosshair stood. He could only make it one step in your direction before Hunter stopped him. “Vod.” His older brother's voice made him groan, turning back to face the table. 
Hunter shook his head. “We agreed not to interfere.” He points out.
Crosshair grits his teeth. “He’s got his hands on her.” He hisses out, sparing a glance over his shoulder in your direction.
“And she doesn’t seem to mind,” Hunter states, even though it kills him inside to admit it. He was trying not to listen to your fluttering heartbeat or the flirtatious words being whispered in your ear by the stranger, but you were like a damn honing beacon, and he couldn’t tune it out. 
“I mind,” Crosshair answers sharply, narrowed brown eyes focused on his oldest brother.
Hunter sighs quietly. Crosshair’s distrust of outsiders and his jealous streak had always been an issue. It was a miracle he’d taken to you so quickly a year ago - Hunter had been sure they’d go through countless handlers as the war progressed.
Frustration flashed in Crosshair’s eyes. “She’s ours.” He states.
“We agreed.” Hunter leans forward in his seat, silently imploring his brother to sit back down and shut up. Ever since they’d been old enough to talk, they’d formed pacts. And when you’d joined them, a new pact had been added to the list. 
Pact 52. None of them would make a move on you, regardless of the fact they wanted you. 
Your comfort was paramount, and they didn’t want to put you in an awkward position.
“You’d be fine if she went home with him?” Crosshair spits the word like it's poison, shooting a glare over his shoulder at the stranger you’re dancing with, whose hands are grasping at your body as if he’s known you his entire life. 
Hunter doesn’t have a comeback for that. He wouldn’t be okay with it. Not at all, in fact. But you’re a grown woman and he has no say in what, or who you do. If you want to spend the night in a stranger's bed, all he can hope is that you’ll leave your tracker on, insist he wraps it, and comm them if there’s a problem. 
“I would not be fine with it,” Tech interjects, his eyes shifting between his brothers, datapad long forgotten on the table. 
Hunter huffs. “We made a pact. When she joined, we agre-“
“Kriff the pact.” Crosshair spits, cutting Hunter off. “She’s not going home with him. He doesn’t know shit about her.” He presses his palms to the table as he leans down, the booth tucked away enough that no one can hear their conversation. 
The boys fall silent, each remembering the first and only time you'd gone home with a stranger. Shore leave was hard to come by, and you spent most of it with them, but you’d been up at the bar, chatting away with the barman, when you’d been approached. Hunter could still remember hearing the guy flirt with you; Wrecker could remember how he’d reached out to touch your arm. He’d bought you a cocktail you hated but had politely drank, Crosshair had noted, and you’d chatted for a little while. Then you’d disappeared with him, Tech’s datapad pinging a few minutes after you’d left with a message not to wait up for you. 
And in the morning, you’d come back to the Marauder smelling of that stranger, with a small hickey on your throat that you’d tried desperately to conceal. It had nearly killed them.  
“And what happens if she doesn’t want us, or only wants one of us? Could you handle that if it’s not you?” Hunter sighs as he leans back in his seat. This wasn’t a new debate – they often bickered about it – but it had never been this charged. 
Fear and jealousy rage inside of Crosshair. He didn’t want to think about that. You were theirs, and you wanted them just as much they wanted you. It was a fact.
“I-I don’t want her to go home with anyone else either.” Wrecker finally pipes up, looking awkwardly between his brothers and you. You’re still dancing with the stranger, laughing at something he’d said, eyes closed as you grind back against him. Wrecker feels an odd coil of anger in his gut that someone else has their hands on you. It’s a new feeling for him, and he doesn’t like it.
“All in favour of dissolving Pact 52.” Crosshair throws down the mantle, glancing between his brothers. He was tired of holding back. 
Tech lifts his hand a little in agreement, Wrecker following suit. But for it to be dissolved, there had to be complete consensus.
All eyes turn to Hunter, who’s staring at Crosshair like he’s gone crazy. His youngest brother could sometimes be stubborn and hard-headed, but he’d never called for a pact dissolution before. Tearing his eyes away, Hunter watches for a second as you dance with the stranger, taking in the way his hands are starting to creep down your body, how close his lips are to your neck. Fire rushes through his veins. “Go and get our girl.” He growls out his agreement, eyes swinging back to his brothers. 
Crosshair smirks in satisfaction, standing back up to full height. Dropping his toothpick onto the table, he’s on the move again, slinking through the crowd in your direction. Tech follows hot on his twins' heels, tucking his datapad back into its pouch on his belt.
Hunter sighs, watching them go, not entirely sure whether he’s just agreed to the self-destruction of his squad or the best thing to ever happen to them. All he knows is that he and his brothers are selfish and don’t want to share you with anyone else. He turns his focus to Wrecker, raising an eyebrow in silent question. 
“They can break the ice. If it don’t work and she don’t want us, we can blame them.” Wrecker explains with a grin. He wants so desperately to go to you, to put himself between you and the stranger, to feel your body pressed against his. But he also doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so he’ll sit back for now and let his younger brothers do all the leg work. 
Hunter chuckles. Taking a sip of his drink, his dark eyes watch as Crosshair and Tech reach you. 
Lost in the music, you don’t realise the boys have approached until the man behind you – Trent, you think he’d said his name was – stiffens. “Hey buddy, do you mind?” You hear him bark over the song, your eyes flying open as your hips stop moving, finding Crosshair and Tech next to you. Your brows furrow in confusion. 
“No,” Crosshair answers, his fingers tightly wrapped around the man's wrist, prying it from your body. “Scram.” He demands.
The warmth of Trent’s hand disappears from your waist, and your confusion only increases as Tech reaches for you, gently drawing you closer to them and away from Trent. 
“Hey, take your hands off her.” Trent has no idea what’s happening but tries to break free from Crosshair’s grip, worried for your safety as you’re pulled away.
“I know them, it’s okay.” You find your voice, raising a hand in a placating gesture. Trent stares at you for a beat, before his green eyes flick to Tech and Crosshair. 
“Scram,” Crosshair repeats, low and deadly, as Trent meets his gaze. 
Trent swallows. “Eh not worth it anyway.” He frowned toward the three of you, shaking his wrist free before stumbling back into the crowd and turning tail. 
Trent’s words sting a little, but before that sting can settle, deft fingers hook under your chin and tilt your head, and your focus is pulled to Tech. “You look so lovely, darling.” He coos over the music, those soft brown eyes of his skating across your face and then down your body, chasing away Trent’s insult.
You blink a few times, brain pausing. Have you died on some remote planet somewhere and been teleported to a different dimension? Pet names weren’t uncommon – the boys had them for you, and you had them for them, but they were never affectionate. They were shortened forms of names and occasionally just a descriptor. And Tech was…flirting? 
“This is new.” Crosshair’s voice slinks against your ear as one of his arms slides around your waist, and he presses against your back, right where Trent had been moments before. His free hand smoothes down the curve of your side, across the dress you’d treated yourself to and had delivered to the hotel. Life in armour had made you appreciate the rare chance to dress up.
Your confusion only doubles. “If you two don’t tell me the hell is going on, I will purposefully snap every toothpick between here and Kamino and put viruses on all our datapads.” You threaten.
Crosshair glances up, catching Tech’s gaze. They communicate silently, the strange phenomenon you’d witnessed a handful of times over the last year. 
“Will you join us back at the table, please, darling? There is something we wish to talk to you about.” Tech finally answers your question.
Curious, you nod, letting them lead you back across the dance floor to the booth. Crosshair slides in first, Tech’s hand on your back guiding you in next, and then he sits, keeping you safe between them. “Is something wrong?” You ask, now more worried than confused as you look between all four brothers. 
“No, cyar’ika,” Hunter answers, the smokiness of his voice making the new pet name sound sinful, and you blink a little quickly at it, unable to control the strange thud of your heart. 
Silence sits with the five of you for a moment, the four men communicating with glances before Hunter leans in a little. “Were you planning on going home with him?” He asks, genuinely curious.
The question stuns you, and a small flare of annoyance erupts in your chest. “That’s none of your business.” You answer calmly.
Hunter gives a slight nod of his head, conceding the point. Taking a deep breath, he leans back in his seat and rethinks his approach. “It suits you.” He comments, unable to stop his gaze from dropping, from taking in how breathtaking you look in that little dress. 
Heat rises in your cheeks. Another compliment on your appearance. You weren’t used to this – usually, you only received them for your work, for a mission well done. “T-Thank you.” You stammer out. 
Satisfaction crosses Hunter’s face. “You’re important to us, you know that, right?” He asks, wanting to ensure that as this conversation progresses, you know they’re not just after frivolous fun.
Brows drawing downward, you nod. Under the table, you feel Crosshair’s slender fingers turn your hand over, the pads of his fingers gliding over the ink he’d etched into your skin. On your other side, you feel Tech lifting a hand, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of your hair – fallen loose while dancing – behind your ear. 
If Crosshair’s touch had given you a rough idea of where this was going, Tech’s actions took it to a new level. It was as subtle as a Rancor in a den of antiquities. A strange sensation settles in your stomach, growing as you glance at Hunter again. The look in his eyes confirms your suspicions, and you swallow thickly.
They want you. 
After a year of pining for them, resigning yourself to the friend zone, they want you. A million thoughts and questions rush through your mind, none of them sticking or answered. But if they want you, then there's something you need to say.
“No.” You state, catching the way Crosshair’s fingers pause, all four sets of brown eyes staring at you as you glance around the booth. For a moment, you can’t believe you have these incredible men wrapped around your little finger, hanging on your every word. “I wasn’t going to go home with him.” You clarify, eyes swinging back to Hunter, though you don’t miss the way all four brothers quietly let out the breaths they’d been holding. “Wasn’t my type anyway.” You tack on as your eyes betray you and dip for a nanosecond down to Hunter’s lips. 
What would it be like to kiss him? Or Wrecker? Tech? Crosshair? 
The fingers around your wrist tighten, and you glance down to watch the action, missing the look that Crosshair and Tech share across you. The air seems to vibrate with unspoken words. 
Tech broke the silence, leaning in, his voice a soft caress. “That is excellent news, darling.”
Tilting your head, you glanced his way, taking in all the details you adored – the sharp angles of his jawline and nose, expressive brown eyes, and lips that looked oh-so-soft.
A light bump against your foot pulls your attention away from the genius, eyes darting to where a large boot is pressed against the side of your heels. Eyes drifting up, Wrecker offers you a fond smile as you meet his gaze. Heart hammering, you know you can’t keep them waiting.
Crosshair’s fingers are now skirting around your wrist, drawing lazy patterns as Tech rests a hand under the table against your thigh, fingers splayed and curling around you – steady and comforting. 
“It’s your choice, cyar’ika.” Hunter captures your attention, understanding this is a pivotal moment for you all and could change everything. He decides to lay their cards on the table. “We’d like you to be ours. But we understand that’s a lot to ask. We’ve shared everything in life except a woman. You’re the first we want, so there might be bumps along the way – nothing we can’t work through.” He notes. “The feelings aren’t new, either. It’s…well…we’ve wanted you since you joined us.” 
All this time, they’ve wanted you, and you’ve wanted them. All this time, you could���ve been... “Then why now?” You question.
“It hurt, thinkin’ you’d be going home with that guy,” Wrecker answers before the others could, a large hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. “And it’s gettin’ real hard to keep pretending.” He shrugs, hand falling from his neck. “But we’ll keep doin’ it if this ain’t what you want. You’re our priority.” Wrecker is hasty to add. 
You’d never been someone’s priority before, and it comforted you knowing they’d immediately back off if you said the word. You reach across the table with your free hand, sliding it into Wrecker’s to link your fingers with his. Holding the big man's gaze, you give a small nod. “I want this.” You decide. “All of you.” You clarify, glancing around at the four brothers, watching as delight and surprise crosses their faces. “The feeling isn’t new, either.” You mimic Hunter’s words as a year’s worth of weight lifts off your chest. You know there’s a lot more to discuss and many things to work out to keep things fair, but making your intentions clear is a good start.
Crosshair’s grip around your wrist tightens, and you turn your head towards him. Longing and desire swirl in his hawkish gaze.
You only have a moment to commit his expression to memory before you feel the soft brush of his lips against your own, like the fragile wings of a butterfly alighting on a delicate flower. It was barely there, an exploration of the unknown, but it ignited a spark that threatened to consume you both. Eyes closing, you surrendered to the moment, and your lips met again, this time with more urgency and hunger as the bar's sounds faded.   
“Hey, that’s not fair!” Wrecker protested, scowling at his youngest brother. 
Hunter held out a hand, silencing him. Dark eyes focused on your face, and then on the way your shoulders dropped as you relaxed into the kiss, how your chest rose and fell a little quicker with each breath, and the gorgeous curve of your throat as Crosshair used his free hand to tilt your chin for a better angle to deepen the kiss. Senses tuning in on you, Hunter picked up on your rapid heartbeat. His nostrils flared, your sweet scent coming into focus even under the layers of other smells from the bar. With every second the kiss continued, your scent became sharper. 
Catching Tech and Wrecker’s eyes, Hunter tipped his head toward the rest of the bar. The three brothers pushed out of the booth in sync, leaving you in Crosshair’s capable hands while they grabbed your jacket from the coatroom, flagged down a taxi, and settled the tab at the bar. 
Lips still pressed to Crosshair’s, you gasp at the feeling of a warm hand on your back, reluctantly pulling away and opening your eyes, turning to see who’s touching you. Your gaze lands on Tech just as Crosshair’s lips find purchase on your jaw, trailing down your throat. A whine of pleasure slides out before you can stop it, and you watch as Tech swallows thickly at the noise, offering out a hand to you. 
Shakily, you take it, enjoying the contact as your heart races, every nerve alight as you’re guided out of the booth, and you hear Crosshair grumble as he slides out after you. 
“You only got away with that because you are the youngest.” Tech chides him, though the bite to his words is lacking. If anything, he’s jealous his brother took the opportunity before he could. In return, Crosshair offers him a trademark smirk, placing a fresh toothpick between his lips, not at all remorseful. 
The two of them escort you through the club – Tech leading you by the hand with Crosshair bringing up the rear, the warmth of the sniper's hand pressed against your lower back.  
As you step out into the city, your jacket is placed across your shoulders before you can feel a pinch of chill, strong hands guiding you towards a taxi Wrecker had flagged down, the gentle giant holding the door open for you. 
The five of you cram in. Hunter is pressed to your right, Wrecker to your left, while Crosshair and Tech take opposite seats. A tanned, tattooed hand lands on your right thigh as the taxi pulls away and into the night sky, deceptively soft fingers drawing slowly up to the hem of your dress, the red fabric pushed aside oh so gently as those same fingers curl around your body and hold on to you. 
You’re so caught up watching Hunter’s hand roam across your body that you’re startled ever so slightly as Wrecker’s large paw starts doing the same to your left thigh. A low chuckle from Tech has your eyes flicking across the dimly lit cabin, catching the wisps of amusement and desire on his face.
“That little heart of yours is racing, mesh’la.” The smoky rasp of Hunter’s voice ghosts against your ear as he leans closer, making you feel like you’re about to combust. You have no idea how this will work or how the night will end. What you know is that you trust them implicitly and can’t wait to have your hands on them.
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illdowhatiwantthanks · 9 months ago
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May the Fourth Be with You
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Casey Novak x fem!reader Warnings: explicit language (maybe?), implied sex (maybe?), fluffy times, Star Wars V spoilers (I guess?), idk let me know if I've missed anything Word count: 1.7k
Summary: You and Casey are watching the twins so your parents can go on vacation and, unbeknownst to Casey, you fully plan on celebrating Star Wars day. But you end up celebrating something else entirely.
Casey jerked awake as the Star Wars theme song blared to life around her.
“What the hell?!” she muttered, stretching and blinking to find you, Winnie, and Eli standing at the foot of the bed with lightsabers. Winnie had on a Darth Vader mask.
You grinned, giggling, and counted your siblings off. “Okay, guys, one… two… three… May the Fourth be with you!”
Casey groaned and tried to put on a good face for Eli and Winnie as she sat up. “Oh, wow. Happy… what are we celebrating?”
“The breakfast tray, young padawans,” you prompted, bowing slightly. Eli and Winnie grabbed either side of a tray and set it over Casey’s lap. Of course, she thought as she looked over the hash brown patty decorated as Chewbacca, with little bacon arms and legs. The avocado toast that somehow had the face of Yoda. Star Wars day. May the Fourth be with you. She shook her head. This is what she got for dating a huge nerd. Even the orange juice was in a little Star Wars glass that looked like it had come straight out of the ‘70s. For all she knew, it might have. Your dad was a huge nerd, too.
“Okay, guys,” you said, giving them a small salute. “You can go eat your breakfasts. Casey and I will come down in a little bit and we can start A New Hope.”
The kids cheered and thundered downstairs, leaving just you in your Han Solo t-shirt sitting at the edge of the bed. “Sorry to wake you,” you apologized, running a hand through her messy morning hair. “I put them off as long as I could.”
“I don’t know how your parents do this all the time.” Casey yawned, making a squished sandwich of the avocado toast, the hash brown and the bacon. She bit into and moaned. “God, it’s worth it for your breakfast, though.”
You smiled and leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. You and Casey were watching your siblings, Winnie and Eli–who were both sixteen and both had Down syndrome–for two weeks, so your parents could go on vacation. They were great kids. You loved them with your whole heart. And you loved that Casey loved them, too. That she was willing to use her vacation time to help you take care of them.
“I think we’re gonna start with A New Hope,” you told her. “It’s the only one they’ve seen besides the kid shows, and the original trilogy’s the best anyway.”
“I’ve never seen Star Wars,” Casey mused, taking another bite of her mishmashed sandwich.
Your jaw dropped. “Casey, what!? None of them!?”
She shook her head, wiping crumbs off the corner of her mouth.
“How come I didn’t know this?! You never told me…”
Casey looked almost guilty as she shrugged. “I don’t really have any desire to see Star Wars…”
You gasped. “And this from the love of my life!?” You clutched your hands to your chest dramatically.
“Calm down,” she scoffed, ruffling your hair as she finished the breakfast sandwich and drained the juice, setting the tray aside so she could wrap her arms around you. “I love that you love Star Wars. I love it when you talk nerdy to me.” She placed a kiss on your neck.
“Oh, yeah?” You smirked, raising your eyebrows.
“Mmhm,” Casey confirmed, pressing her lips to yours. She tasted citrusy from the orange juice, and your brain momentarily blacked out.
You smiled into her, lips brushing against hers. “Did you know the Millennium Falcon is a YT-1300 Corellian light freighter?”
Casey kissed you again, placing both hands on the sides of your face to deepen it.
“And it made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs?”
“You’re such a nerd,” she chuckled, pushing you back into the headboard and straddling your lap.
You moaned slightly, your hands slipping under her t-shirt, as she slid her tongue into your mouth.
“Hey!” a voice called, and you and Casey shot apart as if you were teenagers caught by your parents. It was Winnie, in all her 4’10” glory, standing arms crossed, Darth Vader mask on, in the doorway. “You two,” she ranted, pointing at you, “need to stop all this kissing. Get your butts downstairs. It’s May the Fourth Be with You! Not Kissing Be with You!”
“Get out of here, Winnie!” you yelled playfully, throwing a pillow out of her. “We’ll be down in a second.”
She crossed her arms. “You know you’re not allowed to have girlfriends or boyfriends upstairs. That’s what mom says to you and Chase.”
“I’m a full-grown adult, Winnie! I have a job! And an apartment!” you protested. “I can do whatever I want!” You launched yourself out of bed, flushed, straightening your clothes. “And Chase is married!”
Casey’s shoulders shook with laughter, her face red. You rolled your eyes, taking her hand in yours to pull her up from the bed. You followed Winnie downstairs, slapping Casey’s hand away as she squeezed your ass.
“The children, Casey!” you hissed. She smirked and kissed the side of your head.
You had more fun watching Star Wars that day than you’d had in a long time. But you loved watching Casey with your siblings more. It meant so much to you, so much more than you could ever say–and you’d said a lot–that she was so good with them, that she cared about them, even loved them. It made your heart soar when Eli asked for his daily smoothie and wanted Casey to make it, not you. It was a task reserved for whoever was his favorite at the time. You loved that these days, his favorite was Casey.
Even more exciting was getting to watch perhaps the only three people in the world who didn’t know Darth Vader was Luke’s father see the reveal.
“What!?” Casey yelled, into it despite herself, mostly because it was fun to be into something with the people around you. The kids screamed, throwing things around the room. You grinned all the way to your ears, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Casey’s mouth. You just couldn’t help yourself. She slipped a sneaky hand underneath your shirt to caress your bare skin, making you shiver, and you shot her a look that said, “This is fine, but you’re pushing it.”
And at your favorite part–when Han Solo and Princess Leia are reunited once more at Jabba the Hutt’s lair–you cheesed and smiled and couldn’t help cooing and awwing. They were your favorite. They’d always been your favorite. When you were young, you’d convinced yourself that you had a crush on Han Solo, but really you’d wanted to be Han Solo. The crush, so obvious in hindsight, had been on Princess Leia.
“Ugh, she’s so pretty!” you squealed, and Casey smiled at you, pinching your dimpled cheek.
“Ooohhh,” Winnie teased. “You should be married with her.”
“What?!”
“You should be married with Princess Leia because you said you like her.”
You shrugged. “I mean, I do like her. She’s very pretty. But you know who’s prettier?” You leaned in toward Winnie and Eli, as if you were going to tell them a secret. “Casey.”
Winnie and Eli shrieked, scandalized.
You wrapped an arm around Casey’s waist, pulling her to you, and she giggled, blushing. You kissed her cheek. “Casey is the prettiest. I like her so, so much. I’m gonna be married with Casey.”
After the kids’ laughter had died down and they were distracted by the ewoks, Casey looked at you thoughtfully, running a hand through your hair. “Do you mean it?” she asked quietly.
“Mean what?”
She played with her fingers. “That you want to get married?”
Your heart melted a bit as you watched her. She was nervous to ask. And Casey was never nervous.
You cupped her face. “Of course I am! We talked about this at Chase’s wedding, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, but…” she avoided your eyes. “You didn’t bring it up again.”
“Oh, Case,” you breathed, rubbing her cheek. You laughed a little bit, and she looked at you as you pulled a small plastic bag out of the pocket of your basketball shorts. Casey gasped quietly as she realized what it was, as you held out the ring. “I was gonna make it more romantic, but...”
“Y/N,” she squealed, and planted a quick kiss on your lips, as quiet and chaste as she could manage, so as not to interrupt the kids–or prompt them to interrupt you.
You waited for her nod, then slipped the ring on her finger, smiling.
“How long have you had it,” she asked, whispering, as she turned it around and around.
You grinned at her. “I ordered it after you went to sleep the night of Chase’s wedding.”
“You didn’t,” she said, swatting your arm, sniffing aggressively and trying to avoid crying.
“I did.” And when she turned to you, you knew you’d never, ever get tired of her. Her face, her laugh, the way she kept you on your toes. You loved every single bit of her, so much it almost ached. You’d decided that very night, that very conversation at Chase's wedding reception, that If Casey wanted it, you’d do it. It would be your absolute privilege, your joy, your honor to marry her.
She kissed you a few more times, soft and quick, then leaned her body into yours, resting her head on your chest.
“We’ll celebrate more later,” she whispered, winking up at you and squeezing your hand.
“Hey,” you prompted when she turned her head back to the movie. She looked up at you, and you traced her eyebrows, her cheekbones, all the way down to her chin. “I love you.”
She grabbed your hand and kissed it. “I love you, too.” She smirked and giggled, then added. “Nerd.”
You rolled your eyes and smiled, happier than you’d ever been in your life.
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ak-vintage · 9 months ago
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Quarry - Chapter 16
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Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader
Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.
Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.
Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.
Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, dual POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, angst, Mandalorian culture lore dump, religious issues, Din speaks Mando'a, brief sexual fantasies (this one is mostly clean, y'all)
Series Masterlist | Read on AO3
“Is it just me, or has that port doubled in size since we were here last?”
The question came from your favorite copilot’s chair, breaking the pensive silence that had descended over the cockpit as Din maneuvered the Razor Crest through the Nevarran atmosphere. He glanced over his shoulder in acknowledgement only to see you staring out the viewport with a little frown gathering between your brows. Nestled snug and safe in your lap, Grogu offered him a toothy smile, which Din returned, unseen behind his helmet.
“Think you’re right. Karga’s been busy,” he replied, taking in the sprawling landing zones, the increased foot traffic, the dozen or so other ships docked below. “Is there anything you want to pick up while we’re here?”
After the disastrous hunt for the Weequay smuggler Kevok Teklolq, only one bounty from the selection Karga had assigned to him had remained. The three of you had taken an extra day on the shores of Maramere to recover – you and Din from your wounds obtained in the fight, Grogu from his overextension of the Force to heal your ruined shoulder. In that time, the bounty hunter had taken the liberty of recovering evidence of Teklolq’s death from the dense forest where he had been slain, namely by separating his scaly head from his body and wrapping it in a scrap of tarp you found for him in the ship’s storage. You had nearly retched when he returned with it slung over his shoulder only to tuck it safely into the chiller for preservation.
“Please tell me the next one is someone you can bring in alive,” you had begged, looking ashen, to which Din had offered you a gentle press of his forehead against yours and agreed.
Thankfully, the final bounty had been simple – a Corellian merchant accused of tax evasion who had surrendered almost immediately upon discovering who exactly was pursuing him. The hunt was nearly over before it began, leaving Din feeling a bit underwhelmed and questioning whether the effort had been worth it.
He had fucked you against the doors to his weapons cabinet after, needing an outlet for all of the pent-up energy of the hunt that now had nowhere to go. He didn’t think you minded. You had walked unsteadily for the rest of that afternoon, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, a secret smile on your lips whenever he looked your way.
Now, with all five tracking fobs dormant in his pocket, four carbonite slabs hanging on the cargo hold rack, and one severed head on ice, every excuse the Mandalorian could conjure that might have kept the three of you safe and insulated in the little bubble you had created in the depths of hyperspace had run dry.
It was time to hand over the quarries. And it was finally time to take Grogu to Tython.
From your perch in the copilot’s chair, you seemed to mull over his question, humming quietly to yourself. “No, I don’t think so,” you said, considering. “You know what I would like, though? A hot meal. Like, something cooked with fresh ingredients and then served immediately, not heated up in a ration pack.”
Din chuckled, the sound staticky and rasping through his vocal modulator. He couldn’t blame you. The Razor Crest’s supply of fresh food had run out almost two weeks ago, and all the best self-heating rations had been well picked over by all three of her passengers, leaving only the least appealing options and the ones that were intended to be eaten cold, only barely a step up from the dreaded nutrition bars you could hardly stomach.
“I think we can make that happen,” he agreed.
You offered him a relieved smile in thanks. “How long do you think we’ll stay?”
The bounty hunter cocked his helmet in a gesture reminiscent of a shrug. “It will be at least a week’s journey from here to Tython, and we’ll be traveling into the Deep Core, which means we won’t be able to stop to do a supply run. The further we go into the interior, the more attention the Razor Crest attracts.”
“Maybe we could stay a couple of days then? Get a room at an inn, stock up on food and medical supplies? I wouldn’t say no to a real bed for once, and it’s been ages since Grogu got to spend any time outside. Might be good for him, if we’re going to be in hyperspace for more than a week.”
Din smirked, glancing back at you. “A real bed, hmm?”
You grinned wryly, a flush burning high on your cheeks, eyes flashing teasingly. “Yeah, you know. For sleep.” You drew your plush lower lip between your teeth. “Really, really good sleep.”
A low noise, unbidden, rose in his chest, and he gritted his jaw against reply that wanted to spill forth, one that definitely was not suited to the innocent, bat-wing ears of the boy cradled in your lap. Settling for a…heavily censored version, he growled, “Trouble.”
Your grin widened, blooming into a delighted smile that crinkled the corners of your eyes, and the sight made the bounty hunter’s chest tighten with affection. “Oh, you live for trouble, Din Djarin,” you teased good-naturedly.
He thought you might be right.
---
As you entered the polished, echoing lobby of the Nevarro Municipal Center, your worn, brown satchel strung across your body and Grogu cheerfully strapped to your back, it felt impossible to keep yourself from comparing the experience to the last time you had entered these halls. Had it really only been a handful of weeks ago that Din had led you here, binder cuffs chafing your wrists, your jumpsuit ragged and stained, a pit in your stomach the size of a sarlacc’s den as you contemplated a future back on Chardaan? It felt as though a lifetime had passed since then.
You were an entirely different person now, both outside and in. Clean and well-fed, with a job that had given you more engaging and unique experiences than you had ever had confined to the sterile spheres of the shipyards, a life filled with purpose, satisfaction, and love.
Maker. Love.
It had completely consumed you. You were overflowing with it, your heart pressing, fighting against the barrier of your ribcage, threatening to spill out and overtake you in its joy. The boy peaking up over your shoulder from his perch in his carrier, cooing and babbling in your ear, pressing his warm little body to yours. The hulking man in beskar, bandolier straining across his broad chest, blaster at his hip, wide palm at the base of your spine, guiding you through the entryway with a touch far gentler than his intimidating appearance would imply. You loved them both, in a way that was both liberating and terrifying. But still, their soft, solid presence as you made your way across the marble floor toward the oversized reception desk eased your nerves at being back in this place. They made you calm and confident, and that, in turn, made the memories of arriving here a slave feel more distant, less heavy.
“Here to see Greef Karga,” Din snapped, interjecting before the familiar bronze protocol droid currently manning the reception desk could greet you.
The TC unit drew back in something like surprise at the bounty hunter’s gruff, informal tone. “My apologies, sir, but the High Magistrate’s calendar is fully booked for the balance of the afternoon.” Glancing down at the datapad mounted to the desk, it continued, “I would be happy to make you an appointment for the end of the week if you would like – ”
The droid cut itself off abruptly, looking back up at Din as though having a sudden realization. Its mechanical neck and shoulders whirred as it quickly scanned the bounty hunter from head to toe then did the same to you.
“Oh. It’s you.” If it were possible for a droid to sound contemptuous, this one did. You bit back a smile, pressing your lips together to hold back a snicker. Apparently the two of you had made an impression during your last visit.
“It’s me.”
You lost the battle with your laughter at Din’s utterly deadpan response. A choked giggle escaped your throat, echoing through the cavernous, marble-paved entryway, and with embarrassment flaring in your cheeks, you forced yourself to turn away for fear that more would follow.
Cool and posh as ever, the protocol droid continued, “I don’t imagine you are interested in making an appointment?”
“That’s right.”
The TC once more glanced from Din to you and then back again. “…One moment, sir.” Tapping through several layers of command menus on the desk’s datapad, you watched as it brought the built-in comm link crackling to life. “Pardon me, High Magistrate, if I may interrupt.”
A moment of silence passed, tense between the droid’s displeasure and Din’s complete impassiveness, and then Karga’s voice, deep and commanding and clearly aggravated, floated through the open channel. “What is it?”
“You have visitors here to see you, sir. That…rather insistent Mandalorian fellow and two companions.”
On the other end of the comm link, the older man’s attitude seemed to soften almost immediately. A booming chuckle made its way across the connection, and Karga readily replied, “Send them up, 48.”
You were certain that if it had been capable, the protocol droid would have sighed. “Yes, High Magistrate.” As the comm link fell silent, the TC unit redirected its attention back to the three of you. “Would you like an escort, sir?”
“That won’t be necessary. I remember the way.”
And without another word, Din steered you away from the reception desk and down the hall.
“Thank you!” you called over your shoulder, more laughter leaking its way into your voice as your bounty hunter swiftly and confidently swept you around the corner. Glancing up at his expressionless visor, you added, “Are you always that rude to droids?”
Din shrugged, one pauldron gleaming in the golden afternoon light that streamed through the tall windows lining the empty hallway. “Not all of them. Just the ones that get in my way. Which is most of them,” he confessed. “That one in particular is…pompous.”
You snorted and shook your head. “You’re not wrong.”
“What’s so funny?” You could feel his fingers slip from their rather neutral position against your lower back, wrapping around your waist and squeezing teasingly. You swore you could feel your heart stutter in your chest at the unexpected contact. Was Din being…playful? The long-suffering, stoic, beskar-clad warrior…flirting? Dank farrik, as if you could love him more.
“Nothing!” you insisted, the poorly concealed grin tugging at the corners of your lips belying your words. “You’re just cute when you’re grumpy.”
Din very pointedly did not dignify that assertion with a response.
A handful of turns and a brief flight of stairs later, and Karga’s glass-walled office appeared before you. You tried not to feel too disappointed when the bounty hunter’s hand dropped from its hold on the dip of your waist, though you thought you might have failed at that when you felt Grogu offer you a gentle, consolatory pat on the shoulder from his carrier. The gesture had your mouth curling up again almost immediately, and you reached behind you leave a fond scritch behind one of the little guy’s massive ears.
As you had come to expect, Greef Karga’s welcome was warm and enthusiastic when Din shouldered open the double doors. “Ah! Mando!” he exclaimed, rising from his seat in his oversized desk chair, thick arms wide as though to embrace you from afar. “Welcome back!”
The bounty hunter inclined his helmet at the magistrate and crossed the stretch of the office floor in a handful of long strides. “It’s good to be back,” he replied, more earnest than you had expected. Glancing down at one of the chairs settled across from Karga’s desk, you watched as he realized that his guild agent was not alone in the room. With a note of pleasant surprise, he added, “Marshal Dune.”
The chair spun around, allowing you to see its occupant for the first time, and you felt yourself hesitate in the doorway as a striking woman with jet-black hair, blue-painted pauldrons, and a tiny Rebellion tattoo on her cheek rose to her feet. Offering Din a half-smile, she clasped his forearm in greeting – like a fellow warrior. “It’s been too long. Always nice to see you in one piece,” she said, her voice low and warm. Her dark eyes met yours then, and she cocked her head in your direction. “New friend?” she asked with interest.
The Mandalorian seemed to hesitate for a moment before replying, “Relatively new.”
You took that as your cue to step forward. Closing the distance between you, you extended your hand for the woman to shake, offering her your name.
“Cara Dune,” she replied, the grip of her gloved hand firm and unwavering around yours. You noticed she had a strip of grooved armor molded to the backs of her knuckles, and a jolt of intimidation shot through you at the sight. This woman had brass knuckles built into her uniform – painted blue to match her pauldrons.
“We were in a bit of a hurry the last time we were in the area,” Din continued, oblivious to your unease. “Didn’t exactly have the chance to stop by and say hello.”
The woman – Marshal Dune – grinned wryly at that. “Of course. When aren’t you jetting off on some new quest?”
Karga chuckled low in his chest. “I assume you’re here on business, Mando?” he prompted.
At that, the bounty hunter reached into one of the many pockets of his utility belt and drew out an overflowing handful of dormant tracking fobs, laying them out in a jumbled pile on the magistrate’s desk. “The five remaining bounties – present and accounted for. Your crew is unloading them now.”
The older man quirked a pointed eyebrow at the sight. “All in carbonite this time, hm?” The marshal glanced, bemused, between Karga to the Mandalorian, clearly not understanding the implication, and you pressed your lips together to smother an embarrassed grin.
For his part, Din appeared nonplussed. “All but one,” he agreed readily.
“Mando…” Karga groaned, drawing the name out with something like exasperation.
“The fifth one is dead. I have proof of the kill. It’s on ice.”
Cara Dune snorted, crossing her bare, muscular arms over her chest. “Charming.”
Karga rolled his eyes but nodded anyway. “Very well.” Extending a hand toward Din, he beckoned him forward, encouraging him around to the other side of the desk. “Come, let’s get your compensation squared away, and you can tell me all about your plans now that you’ve run my supply of bounties dry.”
You thought the guild agent might have glanced at you with interest as he spoke, but you couldn’t swear to it.
“So,” Cara said pointedly, a single eyebrow raised.
Now, she definitely was looking at you.
“How did you meet our favorite tin can?” she asked with a smirk.
You opened your mouth to reply but then hesitated, uncertain of her reaction if you were to tell her the truth. Would it make her suspicious of you? Would it make her angry with Din? She was the marshal, after all. But the two seemed to be friends, and you recalled weeks ago, when you had been attempting to determine where you would go after he had freed you, that he had offered to put you in contact with the marshal on Nevarro – that she was a friend and that she would help you find a safe place to live. He wouldn’t have offered that if he didn’t trust her.
“I…was a quarry,” you admitted haltingly.
You realized then that you desperately wanted this woman, who Din clearly respected and saw as an equal, to like you, and you cursed the weakness in your voice, your hesitance.
Cara, however, seemed completely unbothered. “Damn,” she laughed. “He really is getting soft in his old age. Once with the kid, that was an anomaly. But twice? You must have really left an impression.”
You felt your cheeks warm at her ribbing tone, heavy with implication. Attempting to brush it off, you simply replied, “Mando is…kinder than he looks.”
At that, the other woman’s smile softened, becoming more genuine and less needling. “Oh, I know it. Chivalrous to a fault. He’s a tough nut to crack, but he’s a good man.” With a fond brusqueness, she reached out and chuffed Grogu on top of his downy head, eliciting a giggle from the boy. “He takes care of his people.”
Something in your chest warmed and softened, and you offered her a small, genuine smile in return. “Yeah, he does.”
“You two planning to stick around for a while?”
You nodded. “A couple days, I think. Mando’s promised me a hot meal before we start another stretch in hyperspace.” Grogu cooed in agreement, making the characteristic smacking noises with his mouth that you had come to understand indicated hunger.
“I hear that,” Cara scoffed with laughter. “Space food gets old pretty quick. You know, I’m about to clock out for the night. Why don’t I take you to Ninda’s? It’s a newer place, just opened a month or two ago, but they make the best smapp pot pies I’ve ever had in the Outer Rim, and it’s not overcrowded, so maybe the big guy will actually let his guard down for once and enjoy himself.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose – ”
She shook her head, waving away your protest. “Not at all. I’d appreciate the company. And you two can fill me in on what’s been going on outside Nevarro space.”
There was something almost longing about the way she said it, as though a part of her was mourning her tether to the planet, to her position. “Have you been here long?” you asked, intrigued.
“Almost two years now.” Leaning back on the desk behind her, she braced her palms against the edge of it, crossing one leg over the other casually. “It’s stable. Relatively safe. Karga’s a fair leader, and the work is good. But staying in one place this long… Guess I’m still getting used to it.”
You nodded your understanding, revealing, “I’m the opposite. I was only ever in one place my entire life. Until…very recently.”
“Which do you prefer? Now that you’ve done both,” she asked.
“Hm.” You propped your own hip against the desk, mulling it over. You had never really considered it before. You appreciated the worldliness that being a part of Din’s crew had gifted you. You enjoyed getting to experience other planets, other species, other cultures. Your day spent in the bazaar on Trevi IV forever would be one of your most treasured memories – the wonder and the joy of getting to immerse yourself in a new place was something that you would carry with you for the rest of your life.
But the more you thought about it, the more you realized that perhaps it wasn’t the new planets or the new cultures that you found most rewarding. Perhaps it was the fact that you had gotten to have those experiences side-by-side with Din.
“Truthfully,” you admitted, “I think I could be happy anywhere. As long as – ”
“As long as you’re with him?” Cara interjected, a smile on her face. “That’s what I thought.”
You looked away, suddenly deeply interested in the pattern of scuffs on the toe of your boot, the other woman’s immediate perception more than you could bear. “Is it that obvious?”
She shrugged. “Maybe not to everyone. But I know what it looks like when he’s found someone he wants to protect.”
Your eyes met hers again, and you felt an understanding settle between the two of you. Whatever it was she could discern of your relationship with Din from the outside, it was clear she approved of it, and your relief at that was almost tangible.
Before you could respond, however, the bounty hunter in question approached, tucking several weighty bags of credits into his belt as he did.
“Karga has offered to put us up for the night,” he said, brushing his leather-clad knuckles against your elbow as though to get your attention. You flushed at the casual touch, feeling Cara’s sharp gaze following his every move. “I’d like to go pick up the keys to the room, but then we can get dinner. What are you in the mood for, cyare?”
You felt yourself melt just that little bit more at the consideration, knowing that all of your softness for him was written all over your face as you replied, “Actually, Marshal Dune has offered to take us to…Nina’s?” You glanced over to her for confirmation.
“Ninda’s,” she corrected. Her grin was smug, her arms folded across her chest once again as she assessed the two of you.
“Ninda’s.”
The Mandalorian seemed to consider the offer for a moment before nodding once. “That’s very generous, Marshal. All right, if that’s what you want to do, we’ll go there.”
Grogu released a squeal of happiness directly into your ear at that moment, and you winced even as you joined the others in laughing in response. With any luck, this evening wouldn’t prove to be too awkward.
---
“Your girl’s a sweetheart.”
Din Djarin pulled his gaze from where it had naturally settled – watching you as you ambled along behind Grogu several yards from where he and Cara Dune still sat. Dinner at the cantina the marshal had recommended had been a pleasant affair (he was looking forward to enjoying his pot pie in the anonymity of their room at the inn later), but the kid had started to get restless as the adults at the table seemed perfectly content to continue catching up well into the evening. You had taken pity on him, in tune with his needs as you were, and had offered to take him out onto the open-air patio to explore. Din, of course, hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from following your every move from the moment you stood up from the table, and Dune had, of course, noticed.
Refocusing his attention, the bounty hunter took in the amused look flashing in her dark eyes. She leaned heavily against the back of her chair, her second mug of ale cupped casually in her hand as she assessed him.
“She is,” he agreed easily. It was completely unsurprising to him that Dune had taken a liking to you. You were easy to like – sweet, kind, shockingly intelligent. He had known that the two of you would get along. Running into Dune at Karga’s office had simply saved him a trip to the law enforcement office to introduce you.
“So how long has this been going on?”
Din weighed his words for a beat before responding. “It’s…new. Very new.”
It had only been a handful of days since Maramere, though already being with you felt as natural as breathing. He wasn’t certain whether that was because he had been carrying a torch for you for so many months, or if it was simply a testament to your compatibility, but either way, in just a few short days, you had managed to bind yourself irreversibly to his heart, like you had always been there.
As though she had been reading his mind, the marshal replied, “Hm. Could have fooled me. The way you two are together, it’s…easy. Doesn’t feel new.”
The bounty hunter grinned behind his helmet, certain the expression could be heard in his voice. “I know.”
“So is she it for you?” Dune nudged his shoulder with hers, knocking against his pauldron as she downed the rest of her ale. “Finally gonna settle down, take your kid and your girl, find a piece of land someplace and just…live?”
At that, the Mandalorian felt himself hesitate, and in that silent moment, he could see the possibilities stretched out before him as clearly as if he were standing there now. A little house at sunset, cast in warm, golden light, modest in size but more than enough for his clan of three. You on the front porch, reclined in a wicker chair, your hair loose and long around your shoulders, cheeks flushed from the sun. Grogu giggling on your lap.
His Mudhorn signet on a pendant around your neck. Your belly soft and round with his ad.
Din banished the vision as soon as it had appeared, shoving the acute sense of longing that squeezed his ribcage deep inside himself. “…I want to,” he rasped, his voice tight. “But I can’t. Not yet.”
The marshal arched a brow at that. “What’s stopping you?”
“I need to get Grogu to a Jedi.”
“Okay, sure.” She waved her empty mug dismissively, clearly unimpressed with the response. “So you find a Jedi, you take the kid to them, then what?”
Then what?
The bounty hunter had been asking himself that question endlessly over the last few days. It had been a question before, of course, but after what had transpired on the shores of Maramere, the consequences of that question had grown even heavier, even more complex. There was a time when he had assumed that once Grogu was no longer in the picture, you would leave the Razor Crest – that you would ask him to drop you off at some shipbuilding hub like Corellia or Eriadu, somewhere that you could put your considerable skillset to good use now that there wasn’t a tiny green toddler in need of a babysitter. Then, he had determined that he would simply go back to bounty hunting. Perhaps Karga would be kind enough to put him in touch with one of his colleagues at the Guild, someone in need of hunters of his caliber who might actually have a sufficient stream of work for him.
It would be a lonely existence, going from caring for two other beings to being on his own once more, and Din didn’t relish the thought, but he would survive. He had done so for years before Grogu came into his life; he could do it again.
Now, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that when Grogu was gone, you would remain. He knew you well enough to know that you would not willingly choose to be separated from him now, not after the things that you had confessed to him, bare and impossibly close in the cramped quarters of his bunk. And he certainly did not want you to leave.
But the warm bubble of newfound intimacy had burst the moment the Crest had landed on Nevarro, and as much as he cursed himself for it, he could not seem to quiet the doubts hovering ever-present at the back of his mind.
Eventually, he replied, “Then…I don’t know.”
Unfortunately, such an ambiguous answer was unacceptable to Cara Dune. Decisive, quick-to-action, fiery Cara Dune. Rolling her eyes at him, she sat up straighter in her chair, slamming her mug onto the table in a gesture that had several other cantina patrons glancing her way in concern. “Do you love her?” she demanded.
Din sighed, steeling himself for the unpleasant conversation now looming on the horizon. “Yes.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“I’m not getting into this now,” he said stiffly, his jaw tight.
Dune groaned dramatically and leaned toward him. “Din. Look at me.”
The bounty hunter startled at the use of his name, and he obeyed on instinct, meeting her flinty eyes through his visor. Although she had learned his name during their run-in with Moff Gideon over a year ago, she had never used it before now, choosing to continue calling him “Mando.”
“Do you remember Sorgan?” she asked.
Din frowned, cocking his head in confusion. “Of course, I do.” The swamp planet where they had met. How could he forget? And what was she getting at?
“Do you remember Omera?”
Dank farrik. Omera.
The Mandalorian felt an uneasiness settle in the pit of his stomach at the mention of her name, and he fought the urge to stand up out of his seat right then and walk out the door. But before he could think of anything cutting to say in response, Dune plowed on.
“Omera cared for you, and you cared for her,” she said severely, maintaining unforgiving eye contact as she spoke. “And when you had to leave, when you had to take Grogu away to protect her village, it hurt you. I gave you a hard time about it then, but I saw how it affected you. You wanted that life. You wanted that safe, quiet, stable life with your little boy and someone who loved you. And you couldn’t have it then, but you could have it now.”
Maker, Din hated how right she was. It had been so long since they had spent any real time together; he had almost forgotten that charming quality of hers. Cara had always had a talent for cutting right to the heart of a situation, for breaking down barriers and seeing things as they were even when others attempted to brush them under the proverbial rug. This time, it had a wave of defensiveness rolling through him, setting his teeth on edge and sending a flash of heat up the back of his neck.
“What’s your point?” he spat, seething.
“My point is, that girl?” The ex-Shock Trooper jammed her thumb in your direction with a sharp gesture. Thankfully, you didn’t notice, as you were still fully occupied with Grogu, watching as he plucked weeds from between the flagstones on the patio and held them up for you to see. “That girl would follow you anywhere. To the end of the galaxy and back. So if you have any doubts, if you think that this isn’t going to work out, you need to tell her now. She doesn’t deserve to be strung along while you figure out what you want.”
The Mandalorian was shaking his head before she had even finished speaking. Hackles now officially raised, he said, “I’m not stringing her along. It’s not that, not…exactly.”
Dune inclined her head at him, spreading her hands wide in front of her as if to silently say, “Go on.”
Kriffing hells. She was going to make him say it. Thankful for the impassivity of his helmet, Din felt a flush rising in his cheeks as he admitted, “In my Tribe…there is no precedent for marrying outside of the culture.”
It sounded absurd now that he said it out loud, for so many reasons, not the least of which being that it was certifiably insane behavior to be thinking so seriously about marriage this early into…whatever your relationship was. You had only been together for a handful of days, all of them in the relative insulation of hyperspace. If you knew what he was thinking, if you knew the permanence of the way he saw your future together, you would be well within your rights to run as far away as you could manage.
Dune, however, seemed completely unperturbed by this revelation. Instead, she focused on another portion of his confession entirely. “Wait, seriously? No Mandalorian has ever married someone who isn’t Mandalorian before? That can’t be right.”
“In other Tribes, I’m sure they have. But my covert, my people, they follow the old Ways. If she were willing to convert, to take the Creed and become Mandalorian herself, no one would protest it.”
The marshal quirked an eyebrow. “And if she didn’t?”
“I don’t know.” Din looked down at the table in front of him, studying the grain of the wood, the glistening, wet rings left behind by the abandoned mugs of ale. “Like I said, there’s no precedent for it. I would need to seek the guidance of the naur’alor.”
“The armorer? The one we ran into down in the sewers after your covert was sacked?”
He nodded once. “Yes. I have no idea where she is now.”
“Well, you’ve got to be the most skilled bounty hunter in the Outer Rim at this point,” Dune said wryly. “Sounds like if anyone could track her down, it would be you.” The Mandalorian shrugged at that, not agreeing exactly but not protesting the assertion, either. “Well. I’ll leave it alone for now. But can I offer you a piece of advice, from one warrior to another?”
Letting out a long sigh, he finally met her gaze once again. “If I say no, will you do it anyway?”
“Probably.”
“Then go ahead.”
Din watched as her hard face softened somewhat, warmed in the long shadows of the setting Nevarran sun streaming through the open archway onto the patio. “People like you and me, we don’t often get to experience the…soft parts of life. The good parts. All we ever get to see is the pain. The blood and the cruelty. The never-ending fight to survive.” Pensive, she ran the tips of her fingers over the blue armored brass knuckles molded across the backs of her gloves. “If this girl can give you peace, I think you need to do whatever you have to do to hang onto that. I hope your armorer gives you her blessing, I really do. But if she doesn’t…” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s time to think about what life would look like if you decided you didn’t give a shit about what anyone else says. You said it yourself. There’s more than one way to be Mandalorian.”
He swallowed thickly, the rush of fondness he felt for her friendship diluted somewhat by the sheer panic such an idea induced. Go against the naur’alor? Defy the Creed? His voice was gruff with emotion as he admitted, “I…don’t know any other way.”
“Maybe not. But you could learn.”
Releasing a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, Din looked away, casting about desperately for a new topic of conversation, anything to direct that discerning gaze away from him and all of the uncharacteristic vulnerability she had managed to pull from the depths of him this evening. Eventually, after a moment or two of charged silence, he settled on spinning the tables back on her.
“What about you?” he asked. “Have you found those…soft parts, here on Nevarro? That peace?”
The marshal scoffed good-naturedly, seemingly willing to allow the redirection. Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her arms over her chest with a grin. “Still searching, I’m afraid. Now that you mention it, though, I do have one more question for you.”
“Hm?”
“That girl of yours, she have a sister?”
A startled laugh burst from Din’s chest, crackling and warping through his vocoder. Out on the patio, you glanced over your shoulder at the sound, sending both him and Cara a blinding smile. Fuck. Honestly, he could understand the sentiment. You really were stunning.
---
Grogu only lasted another half an hour wandering around outside Ninda’s Cantina before he began whining to be picked up and held. Wide, dark eyes bleary in the setting sun, Din watched as you expertly nestled the boy against your breast, murmuring softly to him as you ran your fingertips over his downy white hair. Pillowing his little head against you, he looked ready to pass out at any moment.
The bounty hunter took that as his cue to take his leave of Marshal Dune for the evening in favor of escorting you back to the inn for the night. Karga had used his political privileges to get the three of you a room at the most popular establishment in town. Din had, of course, offered to pay for the room himself, but Karga refused to have any of it. He could still feel the flush that had crept up under his cowl at the waggling eyebrows the older man had given him when he revealed that the room boasted a massive, single bed.
He hoped the revelation wouldn’t make you uncomfortable, but given that you had been sleeping spooned against him in the too-small quarters of his bunk for the last several days anyway, he assumed you would be in favor of the arrangement.
As he held the door open for you and bid you to enter first, his assumption proved correct almost immediately.
“Din!” you exclaimed, your enthusiasm hushed so as not to disturb the snoozing child in your arms. You took in the room with round, almost starstruck eyes – the polished, dark wood floor, the lush area rugs, the eclectic, tasteful art on the walls, and the truly giant bed that surely would have taken up half of the cargo hold on the Razor Crest piled high with thick down comforters and more fluffy pillows than he could count. Soft, incandescent orbs hovered near the ceiling in the center of the room, casting the entire space in warm light, and in the middle of a plush seating area, a basket of fruit and a glass pitcher of some kind of beverage, dripping with condensation, had been left on a low coffee table.
“This is so nice! Have you been here before?”
Din shook his head. “No, never.”
“I hope we didn’t put Karga out too much staying here for a couple days.”
Removing his satchel, he dropped it into one of the overstuffed armchairs then reached for yours to do the same. “Don’t worry about him. Karga might be the richest man in the parsec these days. He can afford a two-day room fee.”
You drew your lower lip between your teeth. “I suppose you’re right.” Wandering into the attached refresher, you flicked on the light only to gasp delightedly, “Din! They have a bathtub!” You peaked your head around the doorframe then, a wicked smile on your face. “It’s big enough for two.”
The image of you luxuriating in an oversized tub, your long hair piled on top of your head, only your shoulders and kneecaps visible above the bubbles flashed through his mind then. Settling in behind you, cradling you back against his chest, the soft globes of your ass cupping the length of his cock as he played with your soapy tits. Running fervid kisses down the length of your neck, gripping your waist, pulling open your thighs, seeking the heat between your legs with his fingers as you moaned into his ear –
Kriffing hells. He needed to get ahold of himself. The two of you were not alone. Grogu was still very much in the room, and although he was dozing now, Din could not count on that lasting long enough to do everything he knew he would want to do to you in that tub. Or in that massive, glorious bed. For a brief moment, the Mandalorian cursed the lack of privacy.
But then, dropping his gaze from your teasing grin, he took in the image of the child he had cared for for so long, his wrinkly little face serene in your arms, so tiny and helpless and yet also not. Grogu possessed powers Din could never comprehend, could never hope to foster. And Maker forbid that those powers grow into something that Grogu couldn’t control. The bounty hunter would be severely ill-equipped to intervene in that eventuality. Finding a Jedi to help him, to train him and protect him, was the best he could offer given the circumstances; he knew it to be true, to the core of his being.
So why did it feel like preparing to sever a part of himself, to contemplate letting him go?
Realizing you were waiting on a response, Din offered you a wan smile behind his helmet, hoping you could sense it in his voice. “Tempting, cyar’ika. Very tempting.”  
You, however, were too perceptive for your own good. Eyebrows drawing together in concern, you observed, “You’re thinking about Tython.”
The Mandalorian sighed, hesitating for only a moment before nodding once. “Yes.”
“We don’t have to take him, you know. We could just…keep him.”
He wished you wouldn’t say that. He knew you meant well, that you were simply trying to cheer him up, but you knew as well as he did why this was the only way forward. To imply that he had another choice was less than helpful. “You know I can’t do that,” he retorted, impatience and annoyance filtering into his voice.
You blinked back at him, eyes wide as it dawned on you that perhaps now wasn’t the time to make light of the situation. Offering him an apologetic smile, you exited the ‘fresher and came to stand next to him at the foot of the bed. “I know. I’m sorry.”
The three of you stood in silence for a moment, the only sound the distant hum of the Nevarran nightlife on the street outside waking with the oncoming dusk. Stomach sour, Din took one of your hands in his in the quiet, running the leathery pad of his thumb across the ridge of your knuckles. He shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. You brought his hand to your mouth and dropped a kiss to the back of his glove. All is forgiven, it seemed to say.
“Well, if we’ve only got two more nights,” you began, “let’s make the most of it, shall we?”
The bounty hunter felt his eyebrows raise, and he met your gaze with his. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
A secret smile quirked the corners of your lips, and then you were passing Grogu off to him, slipping his empty carrier off your body, and toeing off your boots.
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” you said. “Why don’t you get comfy while I get everything set up?”
“Get…comfy?”
Waving toward the bed, which took up the majority of the room, you chuckled to yourself. “Yes! Take off your armor and get in the bed. Take Grogu with you. Now, where is the holoprojector in here?”
As Din kicked off his boots and began removing his beskar piece by piece, he watched as you scanned the room, looking along the floor, the ceiling, and even in the dark wooden wardrobe along the far wall. Eventually, you uncovered a control panel tucked discretely into a piece of decor designed to look like a bookend and made a triumphant noise.
“Ah, there it is!” A few experimental button presses later, and a small holoprojector dropped down from the ceiling, just a few feet from the end of the bed. “Now, let’s see what they’ve got in their database…” You thumbed through the welcome screen, pulling up an interface with seemingly countless holovid options organized by planet of origin, genre, and original broadcast language. You scanned through a few but didn’t seem to see anything that caught your eye immediately. Clearly overwhelmed by the available choices, eventually you asked, “Do you have any favorite holovids from when you were a kid?”
By this time, the bounty hunter, clad in only his flight suit and his helmet, had settled himself in the bed, propped up against the thickly upholstered headboard with a mound of pillows behind his back. In his lap, Grogu had begun to stir, and he watched you work with interest, his ears quirked up, eyes wide.
“I don’t think so…” Din trailed off, considering. In the Fighting Corps on Concordia, holovids were rare commodities, traded between the older children on encrypted datapads in exchange for better duty shifts or coveted snacks from the cafeteria. The commanders had believed that such forms of entertainment were frivolous and unnecessary, and in what little leisure time their foundlings were granted, they had been encouraged to spend time reading cultural and military histories, or at the very least Mandalorian folklore. And before Concordia… Well. His memories of his birth parents were few and far between. When he thought of them, all he could see was the day the Separatists attacked.
Except…
“Wait.”
You looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.
“Knights of the Old Republic.” The name left his lips before it had even fully formed in his memory. “I remember watching Knights of the Old Republic. With my parents on Aq Vetina.”
And he did remember it. Soft linen pajamas, a woolen blanket, his body warm with the soft presence of his mother on his right, his father on his left. The faint blue tinge of the holoprojector in their living room, blaster fire and lightsabers flashing across the viewer. He had been so small then, no more than 7 or 8 years old.
He hadn’t thought about that in…decades.
Your expression softened at his response, a fond smile on your lips. “I’ve heard of that. It’s an old, animated serial, right?”
Din flushed and brought up a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “Not old. But maybe…before your time.”
“Of course,” you soothed, smirking. Refocusing on the control panel before you, you continued, “Well, it looks like we’re in luck. They have all eight seasons in their database. Do you have a preference where we start?”
“Start at the beginning.”
You nodded once and selected the pilot episode, tagged with an original air date of nearly 40 years ago, and the holoprojector flared to life in the space a few feet from the bottom of the bed. Dimming the lights, you quickly stripped off your deep blue boilersuit and crawled in bed next to him, settling yourself against the extravagant pillows in nothing but your breast band and a pair of matching black undershorts. Grogu cooed at you happily, reaching out a tiny, three-clawed hand to fondle a lock of hair that had fallen from your braid.
And so, the three of you spent the evening huddled up in bed together as episode after episode of Knights of the Old Republic streamed in the background, and if Din blinked back a few tears as he watched you slowly nod off next to him, Grogu nestled between his body and yours, he supposed he could be forgiven for that. This was his family, his aliit, his clan of three, and no matter what happened on Tython, no one could take that from him.
---
If you're following along, you know where this is headed. Brace yourselves for a collision with canon events. Also, the KOTOR reference was a little treat for my husband, who proofreads every chapter for me before I post. I hope it brought my fellow gamers some joy. :)
Translations:
ad - child (son or daughter) naur’alor - smith, craftsman, specifically a metalsmith that works with beskar. It's a title that's called out in the Kyr'tsad Mando'ad, a manifesto of the Death Watch and is later recognized in the book The Bounty Hunter's Code by Boba Fett. Given the Children of the Watch's connection to Death Watch, this felt like an appropriate formal title for the Armorer. aliit - clan, identity, family
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pastelghoul · 2 months ago
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Rescue Mission - Kylo Ren x Apprentice!Reader
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Scraped chapter from Asphyxia - Imagine Kylo Ren sets out on a rescue mission after you go missing during a solo mission. Pt 1 - here
I landed my TIE fighter nearby a small settlement on Jakku, dust flying up as I turned off the engine. Getting out of the ship, I pulled up my hood and looked around, noticing a couple of other stormtroopers not too far ahead, making my way over towards the settlement.
I came to a marketplace, weaving my way through the stalls as I searched for any sign of the droid. That's when I noticed two people - a man and a woman - staring at me. I recognized the man as FN2187 - the rouge stormtrooper.
He seemed to be whispering something to the woman, his eyes widening as he realized I'd spotted them. Behind them was a small droid that fit the description of the one that Master Ren was searching for.
I smirked, making my way over towards the trio. FN2187 grabbed the woman's hand and took off, leading her and the droid away from me. I felt for my saber, ensuring it was on my belt before running after them.
When Kylo was training me, he made sure I was skilled athletically as well, not just combat wise. The trio were fast, but not fast enough. I realized they were heading for the shipyard, so I force-jumped up onto the roof of the marketplace. It was sturdy enough for me to make my way across fairly easily as long as I ran and jumped from roof to roof.
Reaching the other side, I jumped down and grabbed my sabre from my belt, igniting it as I landed. The terrified looks on their faces caused a small smirk to grace my lips before it quickly disappeared.
The female looked shocked, as though she had never seen a lightsaber before. Then again, ever since the Jedi and the Force became nothing more than myths, most people would be shocked to see someone wielding a saber.
"Shit..." FN said, taking a step back.
"Who... Who is that?" the female asked, looking to FN.
"That would be Kylo Ren's apprentice..." he said, continuing to back up. I took a step forward, swinging my saber menacingly.
"Hand over the droid." I demanded, continuing to walk forwards. The female held her staff out, pointing it at me threateningly.
"The droid stays with me!" she shouted. The small droid beeped in agreement, moving behind her. I sighed, not wanting to make things harder than they had to be.
"This is your last chance. Hand over the droid and no one gets hurt." I warned, swinging my saber around one more.
The trio backed up against a stall , however the droid backed up against a loosened pillar, managing to knock it over. I looked up, seeing that the ceiling was about to collapse on top of me. I jumped out of the way just in time, watching as part of the marketplace collapsed into a heap of dust, wood and rags.
I groaned, turning around and shouting "Call in the air strike!" to a pair of nearby stormtroopers, before running off towards my TIE fighter.
I got in and started the engines, taking off as I circled around searching for the trio. It didn't take long to find them; they were running towards the shipyard once more. They were heading for one of the ships - a quad-jumper - before it was promptly blown into a million pieces.
They quickly changed course, heading for a Corellian YT model freighter instead. "Shoot down that freighter!" I ordered, watching as the ship took off.
Slowly, one by one, the TIE fighters in front of me were shot down, until I was the last one left. By now we were flying through a ship graveyard, dodging left and right to avoid overhangs and loose parts of ships.
They took a sudden left turn, heading straight into the exhaust of a giant star destroyer. I had to be quick, avoiding pipes and pieces of the ship that jutted out. I spotted an opening up ahead, sure that the fugitives would take their chance to escape through there.
Sure enough, their ship turned and flew out through the hole. I did the same, now having a clear shot at their ship. I watched in confusion however as they powered off the engines, until I realized I was now in their line of fire.
I was too late to correct my mistake, however, as they fired at me, blowing my left wing off of my TIE. I was heading straight for the ground, and unless I escaped before my TIE crashed, there was little chance I'd survive.
I tried unbuckling my belt, quickly realizing however that it was jammed. Damn it, I knew I should have fixed that last inspection! I thought to myself, cursing under my breath for my stupidity.
Feeling around for my saber, I was disappointed to find that it too was trapped by my belt. I wasn't too far from the ground now, having no choice other than to close my eyes and hope for the best. Using the last of my energy, I created a Force shield around myself, hoping it would withstand the crash.
With a loud bang, the ship crashed into the side of a sandy hill, the impact smashing the windshield and launching me out of the ship. I landed with a thud not too far away, the Force shield around me dissipating upon impact.
Groaning in pain, I rolled over to see where my ship was; I wasn't surprised to see that in its place was a giant mound of fire and black smoke. I was just relieved that I was a safe distance away and not sitting inside that burning chunk of metal, melting away.
I sighed, rolling onto my back as a sharp pain erupted in my side. I pressed my fingers against where it hurt, drawing them back and seeing what looked to be blood smeared across them. My eyes widened, however I started to feel weaker with every second that went by.
I closed my eyes, praying that someone would find me and save me. I just hoped it wasn't too late when they found me...
XXX
Kylo Ren stood looking over a control panel, observing as he waited for news on the droid situation. His apprentice hadn't reported back to him, which she was supposed to do over an hour ago. It was very unusual for her, which led Ren to question whether or not he should be worrying.
"Sir, we were unable to acquire the droid on Jakku." Kylo Ren turned around, jaw clenching at what he'd had just heard. "It escaped capture aboard a stolen Corellian YT model freighter."
"The droid... stole a freighter?" he asked, processing the news.
"Not exactly sir. It had help." Ren turned around so he was facing the officer, fists clenching in anger. "We have no confirmation but we believe FN-2187 may have helped in the escape."
He ignited his lightsabre, rage flowing through Kylo Ren's veins as he slashed and hacked away at the control panels, sparks flying through the air. The sound of glass shattering and metal falling to the floor continued for a moment, before he stopped and calmly asked the young officer "Anything else?"
There was a slight pause before he answered. "The two were accompanied by a girl." Ren's arm shot out as he force-pulled the officer into an outstretched palm.
He held him there in the air choking him for a moment, mind racing, before finally asking "What girl?"
A sc-scav-venger! Br-brown hair and w-we-wearing rags!" He was dropped to the floor, before realizing that she still hadn't reported back.
"What about my apprentice? She hasn't reported back to me yet." Ren spoke.
The officer rubbed his throat, looking up at Kylo Ren. "No one's heard from her..." he croaked.
"Send out a search party, don't return until she's located." He snapped, turning around.
"But-" he began, only to be cut off abruptly.
"Go!! Now!!!" Kylo Ren screamed, swinging his lightsabre at him and watching as he got up and scurried away. Ren sighed, shaking his head in frustration.
xXx
I groaned as the feeling of my body being lifted from an ice bath pulled me from my sleep. I was cold for a moment, shivering from the chilly air that surrounded me. Suddenly I was pulled into something hard and warm, what felt like a blanket being draped over my body providing me warmth.
I pried open my eyes, the first thing I saw being the starry night sky. I never realised how beautiful it was, billions of stars twinkling in the twilight.
My gaze shifted to the person who was carrying me. I didn't recognize them through my blurred vision, long, dark locks of hair obscuring their face. I couldn't read their thoughts, their mind was blank. Are they blocking me out? Reaching up to try and move their hair out of the way in a vain attempt to see their face, I mumbled something incoherent. Their grip around me tightened, pulling me closer to a warm, firm chest.
I looked at what was draped over me. Oh. I thought, realizing that a cloak of sorts had been wrapped around me. I was too exhausted to stay awake for much longer, quickly finding myself drifting off to sleep once again, the warm embrace providing me comfort.
Kylo looked down at his unconscious apprentice, eyes narrowed in concern at your state. He could only blame himself for such recklessness, you seemed to take after him and his stubborn tendencies.
The cool of the desert night left a chill in the air, prompting him to pull his cape further over your body. You didn't know it, but he cared deeply for you, despite his cruel, cold demeanour. Over the years he'd grown fond of the younger apprentice - even if you were forced into his care by Snoke.
It took a while of walking before Kylo reached the ship, setting his sleeping apprentice down on a steel medical slab, leaving the aid droids to tend to your wounds.
Once the droids were done, he scooped your limp body up and took you to his chamber, laying you down on the bed so you were comfortable.
Kylo sat down on the end of the bed, eyes trained on your sleeping form, worry still creasing his brow. Slowly, he moved a hand to caress your cheek, his rough touch stirring you.
His eyes flicked to his helmet that sat in the corner of the room; he'd never shown you his face in all the years you'd known him. Mostly out of stubborn pride, but now there was something else lingering in the darkness. Kylo had trained himself to be resilient and strong, yet no matter what he couldn't bury the fear of rejection.
He watched intently as you returned to a peaceful state of sleep, inching himself closer to you. Slowly, carefully, he pushed a strand of hair out of your face, this time caressing your cheek gentler so as not to wake you.
"Reckless girl..." he muttered, getting up to leave, but not before stealing one last glance in your direction. For now, stolen glances would have to suffice.
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