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hugmekenobi · 5 months

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S3: The Bad Batch (2)

Chapter Two: Paths Unknown

Gif by @leemarkies

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: Following a lead, the three of you make some headway in your search for Omega and come across something unexpected

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, brief mentions of spice/drug use, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, more of my lil additions and interpretations of headspaces, very light PDA

Word Count: 5.6K

Author's notes: Well, this morning without an episode felt very strange but here's the second chapter! Still sticking very closely to how the episode goes but hope people still enjoy! And stay tuned for Chapter 3 since I'll be posting it after this one!

Oba Diah

“Halt-”

A quick wave of your hand sent them screaming over the sides of the bridge.

“Gotta say, it’s been handy having you be able to use your Jedi powers like this now.” Wrecker commented.

“You won’t be saying that if bounty hunters start interrupting us again.” You replied back as he and Hunter fired on the next set of guards. But you had to agree that not hiding had definitely made certain things easier.

The three of you steadily advanced towards the building. Even in this planet’s gloomy light of day, one would only need to look at the three of you to tell you’d been moving non-stop.

The once bright and vibrant colours that decorated each of you had grown dull and faded.

Hunter’s scarf was long gone, and he was missing his right shoulder pauldron.

It wasn’t just his though, each of you had a story written all over your armour. All of your armour, including what little you personally had, was scratched, worn, and cracked with extreme use.

“Ready?” Hunter asked through his helmet when the three of you reached the main doors.

You unclipped your lightsaber and Wrecker prepared the smoke grenades in response.

The head Pyke lounged back in his chair, smoking some of the good quality spice he kept for himself as he listened to his associates break down this rotation’s numbers and so far, everything was sounding good.

As a natural silence descended for the transition into the next phase of the meeting, a sudden darkness swarmed the room and a cloud of smoke spread as the door to the meeting room crashed open.

At first all the head Pyke could hear was an ignition followed by a low thrumming and he made out the faint outline holding a hilt that sparked from it a blue blade of light being flanked by two more outlines. Then he squinted as he saw the dark figures split off. His people did what they could, but their blaster fire was useless, and he heard the thumps of bodies falling around him but before he had the chance to act for his own protection, he registered the blue stun bolt being fired in his direction and his sight went black.

“Who stands before me next?” Isa Durand asked her son from her throne in her court room.

Roland nodded to the door.

As the door opened, Hunter shoved the Pyke through the entryway and when he stopped at the threshold, he pushed him forward again.

You and Wrecker followed close behind and the group of you made your way onto the holoplatform that rested over a bottomless pit. You followed the helmeted example of the others and kept your hood and mask on.

“The mercenaries we discussed.” Roland informed his mother.

“Such courage to demand an audience with me. You’d be dead if my son hadn’t convinced me to consider your offer.” Isa said frostily.

Hunter pulled the broken horn out. “And we’re here to deliver.” He threw it to Roland. “You asked for the Pyke who disgraced your family.”

“He’s all yours.” Wrecker added.

“It won’t be traced back to you. We made sure of it.” Hunter said with a cool disposition.

“Take him below.” Isa ordered her guards.

“No. No!” The Pyke struggled against his captors as he was dragged out the room, but it was no use. “This isn’t over, Durand!”

His cries were shut out as the door closed.

“Impressive.” Isa stated simply before she looked between the three people standing before her. “Your willingness to cross the Pykes and to associate yourselves with such a valuable but dangerous commodity…” She fixed her stare on you. “Well, it shows how desperate you are.”

You felt Hunter and Wrecker glance your way, but you were determined to give her no reaction.

Impressed by your steadfastness, Isa continued her questioning but directed it towards you, “Tell me, Jedi. Why is the intel you’ve requested of such value to you?”

You took half a step forward between Hunter and Wrecker, so you were slightly in front of them. You kept your voice steady and firm. “Dr. Hemlock stole someone from us. We heard your syndicate had the connections needed to find the Imperial’s base. And since we’ve upheld out end of the bargain, now it’s your turn.”

The three of you watched as Isa and Roland shared a look before she pressed a button on the arm of her chair. It was then you heard a faint electrical humming and the sound of gears clanking and were relieved to see that she was extending the platform out for Roland to make his way to you.

“Hemlock’s whereabouts have been well guarded by the Empire, but one of our sources came across these coordinates linked to his laboratory.” He held the puck out to the clone in charge.

“And they’ve been verified?” Hunter asked.

“Take what you came for and go, before my generosity runs out and I report your Jedi companion.” Isa interrupted.

That caused both you and Hunter to tense up, but Wrecker placed a gentle hand on your shoulders in appeasement.

“I hope you find who you’re looking for.” Roland said by way of farewell with a knowing look behind his eyes.

The three of you left the courtroom and headed to the Marauder.

“Come on, Echo, you really can’t-”

“I wish I could, (Y/N), but we’re spread pretty thin right now. This is the best I can offer you.” Echo replied back with a grimace.

You sighed in frustrated acceptance. “No, we get it. I’m sorry.” You turned away from the holographic image to stare down the hallway towards Hunter who was busy tapping various buttons on the navicomputer with his pointer fingers and alternating his gaze between that screen and the datapad. He looked so uncomfortable and out of his element that it cut you deeply to see him like that. You saw his eyes lift and stare and both Tech’s broken goggles and Lula in Omega’s room before they instantly went back to the screens, and you could sense the anxiety around him. You nudged Wrecker to signal that you needed to go.

“We’ll let Hunter know. Stay safe, Echo.” Wrecker said.

“You too.” With that, he signed off.

“He’s not gonna take this well.” Wrecker muttered to you.

“Can’t really blame him though.” You replied gloomily before the two of you walked down the corridor to where he was sitting.

Hunter swivelled his chair to face the two of you.

You came to stand behind his chair and braced your hands on his shoulders as a means of support before Wrecker spoke.

“Echo said he and Rex need two rotations before they can meet us at the coordinates.” Wrecker informed him.

Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation. “That’s not good enough.” He pulled away from you and got to his feet. “We’re going now.”

You and Wrecker shared a concerned look and Wrecker grabbed his brother’s shoulder. “Hunter, the last time we stormed an Imperial base without backup, not all of us made it out.”

“Just take a second to think about this, Hunter. Please.” You suggested delicately.

Hunter took a calming breath, but his mind was made up. He walked past you both and slid into the pilot’s seat and got the ship ready to leave hyperspace. “Omega’s been waiting for us a long time. I’m not making her wait another day.”

On the surface, the scenic jungle planet should’ve been a pleasant enough place to land in, but as soon as the three of you stepped outside, your eyes watered as your nostrils were hit with a horrid stench of rot and decay.

“It smells like rancid Jotaz out here.” Wrecker groaned.

“There’s nothing on the scanners.” Hunter said, pushing his own disgust at the smell away.

“The Empire could be jamming our sensors.” You offered as you and Wrecker followed behind him. You still weren’t used to seeing him with Tech’s datapad and you were sure he still wasn’t either.

All that sounded through the canopy was the rhythmic sound of the datapad and your footsteps but as you came across out outcrop, and saw what waste was ahead, your heart sank.

Hunter brought out his binoculars and his own anxiety spiked as he saw the utterly decimated lab. “Oh no.”

“That’s Hemlock’s lab?” Wrecker asked in horrified awe.

Hunter put the binoculars away. “They destroyed it. Another orbital bombardment.”

“But Omega. I- if she was here-”

“We don’t know if she was.” Hunter interrupted sharply. “The Durands’ intel could be wrong.” He almost hoped it was. “Let’s get down there and check it out.”

You watched Hunter jog away but before you followed, you slapped Wrecker’s arm. That is a thought you keep to yourself.

“I don’t want it to be true, but someone had to say it.” Wrecker protested.

You conceded the point with a dip of your head. How about just wait until we have confirmation of the situation first, okay? Dwelling on a potential outcome won’t help any of us.

Wrecker nodded in agreement and the two of you left to catch up with Hunter.

The sound of branches rustling and snapping caused you all to stop and draw your weapons.

“Freeze!”

The three of you were surrounded by two young boys holding spear-like weapons in your direction but something about them felt very familiar.

“Blaster bears stick, kid.” Wrecker said with a confident laugh.

Hunter relaxed his stance as it clicked with him who they were. “They’re regs.”

“And who are you?” The one on the left asked.

Hunter and Wrecker took off their helmets. “We’re clones. Same as you.” Hunter said calmly.

“You don’t look like clones. And she’s definitely not one.” The same one said suspiciously with a pointed look in your direction.

“They must be 99s.” The other clone guessed. “Defectives.”

“Defective and effective.” Wrecker said proudly.

The same clone that figured out who they were peered past them to look at you and his eyes widened as he caught the weapon you were attaching back to your belt. “And you’re… woah… you’re a Jedi.”

You lowered your mask and offered a half smile. “I used to be.”

“What are you two doing out here?” Hunter asked.

“What’s it look like? Surviving.” The one that had first spoken answered frostily. “Or trying to. No thanks to the Empire.”

Your attentions turned to the other boy as he asked, “They send you to finish us off?”

“Do we look like we’re with the Empire?” You countered. “You said it yourself, I’m a Jedi and believe me, there’s no love shared for my kind anymore. And, well, just look at these two.” You pointed to Hunter and Wrecker. “They look like Imperial troops to you?”

He considered that for a moment before inquiring, “What do you want?”

“We’re looking for a young girl. She’s a clone. We think she was sent to the lab here.” Hunter explained.

“Never saw anyone like that, but Mox might know about her.”

“He won’t talk to them.”

The three of you watched the exchange between the two cadets and then watched as Hunter approached the clone closest to him.

“Please, we have to find her. She’s… part of our squad.”

His hesitation before he found the words and the way his voice shook as he was trying to hold back his desperation had you fighting the urge to reach out to him. You noticed too that Wrecker’s downcast expression was a mirror of your own.

The young clone glanced between the three of you before he made his decision. “Stick to the trail. Follow our steps. And don’t touch the vines.”

You three put your coverings back on and trailed behind the two cadets.

“When the Empire transferred us off Kamino, we thought we were getting more training. Instead, they made us prisoners.” The lead cadet said as you all walked through the terrain. “Took samples of our blood.”

“Why? What was the Empire doing here?” You asked.

“Whatever they wanted.”

“At least we escaped before they destroyed the facility.” The other cadet said.

“And you survived alone out here ever since?” Hunter asked.

“We’re soldiers. Or we were supposed to be.”

The group of you walked in silence for a while before the cadet who’d noticed your weapon addressed you, “I always thought I’d end up fighting beside a Jedi one day. The name’s Deke, by the way.”

You glanced down at him with sympathetic eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Deke. I’m sure any Jedi would’ve been lucky and grateful to serve alongside you. I always was.”

“What was it like? Being a Jedi during the war?”

You huffed out a short breath. “Challenging. It wasn’t just the battles we had to deal with, and I left because of that.”

“You left?” The cadet repeated in confusion.

“Uh huh.”

“But you came back? How else did you wind up with the 99s?”

“I didn’t, I just got very fortunate to find them. I got my very own squad and I never really looked back.”

“Is that how you survived? Being with them I mean. We were around Kamino long enough to find out about the Jedi.”

“Yeah… they’re…” You took a deep breath. “They’re all gone.”

“We heard rumours in Kamino that the Jedi betrayed the Chancellor and that was why they’re not around anymore.”

Hunter stole a glance over his shoulder at you as he heard the cadet say that.

“Yeah, well, don’t believe everything you hear.” You replied, a slight edge to your tone.

Before he could say anything else, he heard his brother call out, “Stop.” The three of you dashed around to see one of the vines coiling behind Wrecker.

“What?” Wrecker asked as he saw the concerned looks.

“Wrecker, behind you.” Hunter warned.

Wrecker turned to see a black vine curling up the tree like it was alive and getting ready to strike.

You grabbed your lightsaber whilst the others prepared their blasters, but the two cadets retreated behind a large tree root.

The vine stabbed down towards you three, but the blaster fire was having little impact, if anything it seemed to aggravate the vine more and the cadets’ shout confirmed your observations.

“Don’t fire! It gets hostile when you shoot.”

“You mean it’s not already hostile?” Wrecker commented as more vines slithered and weaved towards you all.

Diving over one of the vines that tried to snatch you, you took the advice of the younger clones on board. You ignited your lightsaber and not a moment too soon since one of them had managed to wrap itself around Wrecker and was beginning to drag him up a tree. You called on the Force and jumped and with an easy swing of your blue blade, the vine was halved, and Wrecker fell to the floor.

Your actions seemed to do enough to get the vines to fall back and with that, the five of you sprinted away and deeper into the jungle.

Once you all were far enough away from the threat, you stopped to get your breath back.

“What was that stuff?” Wrecker asked through heavy pants.

“Slither vines. The Empire made it. It’s some kind of experimental weapon, until they lost control of it.”

“Probably why they ordered a Base Delta Zero on their own facility.” The other cadet added.

“We’ll be safe on the crag. The slither vines haven’t spread there.” Deke informed you all.

“Yet.” The other clone added drily before turning to look at the clone who had started it all in the first place. “And this time, don’t touch anything.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wrecker said dismissively.

You patted his shoulder affectionately before the three of you followed the young clones on the upward climb.

Night had fallen by the time you reached the crag and you walked into the cave to see another young cadet sitting by a lamp and tending to a dying fire.

“Mox.”

Mox looked up to see his two brothers enter with three strangers trailing behind them and immediately his guard was up. “Who are they?” He asked his fellow cadets.

“Clones and they have a Jedi with them. We found them by the overlook.”

The three of you revealed your faces.

“It’s quite a place you got here.” Wrecker commented.

“What do you want?” Mox asked warily.

“We’re looking for a young girl. She was taken by an Imperial named Hemlock.” Hunter explained to Mox. “Her name’s Omega.”

“Never saw a girl around the lab. But I know Hemlock. He was in charge until things changed. One day, the Imperials started packing up and shipped out. So we made our move and escaped.”

“We were the only ones who made it out before the orbital bombardment.” Deke added.

“Even clone troopers left us to die. Said they were following orders.”

You glanced between the three boys with a newfound sense of understanding. “We get it.” You said softly.

“We’ve lost people too.” Wrecker said quietly.

“We can take you someplace safe, but we need to find out if Omega was here or where Hemlock took her.” Hunter offered. “There has to be some intel in that base.”

You could see the internal debate happening between the three of them before Deke spoke up.

“One of the control room panels was still intact during our last scout. I tried to use it to send a signal, but there was no power.”

“Can you take us there?” You asked, your voice rising with hope, but the other cadet interrupted any potential reply.

“No way. That are is covered in slither vines. It’s toxic.”

Mox got to his feet. “Stak’s right. Going near those ruins is a suicide mission. You’re on your own.”

Deke grabbed his comm. “They need help, Mox. I’ll go with them.”

The three of you got ready to follow him out but Stak’s voice made you pause.

“You know the risks of going down there.”

It didn’t matter though, not to the three of you anyway, and you carried out following him out the crag.

“I can get you inside the ruins, but you won’t be able to get anything from the console without a power source.”

“We got that covered.” Wrecker informed the cadet as you all made your way through the dark jungle. “Just need to grab something from your ship.”

“This clone you’re looking for…”

“Omega.” Hunter reminded him.

“How long has she been gone for?”

“Too long.” Hunter said through a frustrated breath. “But we’re not giving up.”

“I wish the other clones felt that way about us. You may be defectives and a Jedi on the run, but at least you’re loyal.”

You caught the way Hunter reacted to that comment and you had an idea of what and who came to mind, but it wasn’t something you could help with right now.

You stepped inside the ship first to grab you and the kid a breathing mask and Wrecker followed close behind you to strap Gonky to his back.

“Woah! Your ship has seen some action.” Deke commented in awe as his torch scanned the ship’s hull.

“Mostly during the war… and some after.” Hunter replied dully.

“I thought, one day, I’d be flying one of these on a mission. A lot’s changed.” He said disappointedly before he turned to the sound of a droid honking.

“Well, I’ve got the gear and the power.” Wrecker announced.

“Lead the way, kid.” You said as you chucked him a mask before attaching your own.

The facility looked far more menacing in the dark of night, not even the shine of your blue blade provided you with much comfort. You saw the curious looks the others gave you as the stared between that and their flashlights.

“Multifunctional weapon.” You said with a shrug.

The four of you started the cautious walk towards the entrance and it was clear the cadets had not been exaggerating when talking about how the vines had spread here. You weren’t even inside yet, and you were already having to be very mindful about where you stepped.

You all walked into the base in silence, the only sounds that echoed around you were the noises of creaking metal.

“How much further to the console?” Wrecker asked nervously.

“Hard to tell.” Deke replied. “More vines have spread down here. We had to stop scavenging the site because of it.”

“What other experiments were going on in this place?” You asked.

“Nothing good. They didn’t exactly tell us what was going on.”

You all rounded another corner but stopped as you heard that now familiar warbling and slithering sound.

A scream got your attention and you all turned to see Deke being dragged down the hallway, a vine curled around his ankle.

Wrecker reached him before he got pulled too high and whilst he held onto his arms, you used your lightsaber to slice away at it and Hunter and Wrecker kicked the cut down pieces away from you all.

The moment of relief was only temporary for no sooner had the kid got back to his feet, more vines started to appear only these ones seemed to have vines that acted as legs and teeth growing out of the middle of their bodies.

Hunter managed to shoot the one that made the first attack and it collapsed to the ground which gave you all the opening you needed to run away from the rest of them and get closer to the console.

The path to the console was treacherous. The entire area towards it was made up of pieces of scrap metal that were floating atop of a viscous pool of black gunk.

“I didn’t think it could smell any worse, but I was wrong.” Wrecker said with a disgusted groan as the pool of black and toxic liquid bubbled beneath the platform.

“We’re in agreement on that.” Hunter said drily. Ignoring the impact this smell was having on him was a lot harder than doing it back in the jungle.

You allowed yourself a moment to squeeze his hand in comfort and were please to feel him return the gesture. If it was this bad for you, you couldn’t imagine what it would be like for a clone with enhanced senses.

“There’s the console. Come on.”

You jumped down after Deke and leapt between the gaps between the different metal platforms as you all made your way across.

You all reached the console and with a casual wave of your hand, the piece of metal that covered it became one with the black ooze below.

Hunter helped Wrecker get Gonky down and he hooked him up to it and the answering beep gave him the hope that they could get something out of this.

“Alright. Do your thing, little guy.” Wrecker encouraged the droid as Hunter finished off the process.

The sound of metal straining in the distance caught both yours and Hunter’s attention.

“Something’s coming.” Hunter said warily with you nodding in agreement beside him. “We need to make this quick.”

“Is it more of those things?” Wrecker asked nervously.

“No. Something else.”

“I’m familiar with the system. Give me some time. I’ll see what data I can pull up.”

Hunter handed the datapad to the kid whilst the three of you remained on guard and scanned the area ahead.

As the three of you creeped towards the edge of the platform, a much louder rumbling sounded throughout the decrepit room and suddenly a huge, thick vine burst from beneath the pool and slammed down towards you all.

Hunter and Wrecker’s blaster fire seemed to force it back down but then more vines surged to the surface and began their assault once more.

“You really think you can fly this thing?” Mox asked as he and Stak broke into the ship you’d arrived on.

“I was top of my class in flight training back on Kamino.” Stak said in reply before investigating the rest of the ship.

Mox meandered his way down and it was then he saw the stuffed doll in the gun turret, a sight that got him thinking more about the intentions the three of you had had and it brought the guilt back. He wasn’t sure about leaving you all behind as well as his brother, Deke. He was brought out of his thoughts by the chirp of his comm and he heard Deke’s voice come through in a panic.

“Mox! Stak! The vines! They’re everywhere!”

Blaster fire rang out in the background.

“Help! We need help! Mox! Come in, Mox!”

Mox looked back at Stak who gave a firm nod of his head.

“Time’s up. Get the datapad!” You instructed as you sidestepped a swipe from one of the vines and stabbed through it.

Deke unplugged it and started the climb up the degrading metal to reach the surface.

You assisted in getting Gonky back on Wrecker’s back and then you all began the climb yourselves. A trying task already but made even more so by the massive vines that kept following you and taking the remaining supports down.

You watched in horror as the piece of metal Deke had been using was ripped away and he started to plummet towards the ground. Acting quickly, you called on the Force to hold him whilst Hunter clambered down and grabbed a hold of him to pull him back up.

With you all successfully making it to the top, you sprinted down the corridor only to find to your dismay that the way out was flooded with the toxic liquid and the vines were still advancing and your weapons were doing very little to stop it.

Hunter glanced behind him and saw a large piece of scrap metal floating your way and he signalled to the rest of you to jump to it.

Having made the jump, the issue of the vines still remained, and you weren’t sure how much longer you would be able to fend them off. It was then though; you saw the bright lights above and the Marauder came into view, and it had never looked so good.

“Keep it steady!” Mox called back to Stak as he lowered the cables down to where you all were. “Grab the cables!” He yelled over the baster fire.

Deke jumped on one first and Wrecker held on to the other one.

You could feel the platform being tugged under the pool, but you and Hunter were the only two left. The cable Wrecker was on wouldn’t support his and Gonky’s added weight as well as you and there was still Hunter who needed to grab onto Deke’s cable but amidst the chaos of the two of you dealing with the vines, you could feel him hesitating. But you knew you could make the jump to the ship itself. “Hunter, go!”

Not having much time to debate, Hunter leapt from the platform to the second cable, and he saw you land at the top of the stairs next to Mox.

The vines kept coming though and they started to strangle the wings of the Marauder and haul it down.

With Deke managing to make his way up, you grabbed your retired blaster and passed two more to Deke and Mox.

You all fired down at the horrifying creature that emerged from the depths. It was like one of the vines you’d encountered earlier that had the teeth only this abomination was huge and disgusting and could easily swallow you all and the ship.

“Shoot for the mouth!” You shouted to them, but your actions had little impact.

“We need more firepower!” Hunter called up.

Wrecker dropped a grenade into the mouth of the creature, but it only deterred it for a second.

“That’s not enough!” Hunter yelled.

“Grab the case of explosives!” Wrecker instructed you.

Doing as he said, you made your way into the ship and stumbled towards the case. You picked it up and brought it back to the stairs where Deke grabbed one grenade from it and Mox helped you push it over the edge.

Once they’d all been swallowed up by the creature, Deke activated and dropped the grenade and watched with relief as the resulting explosion forced the creature to release the Marauder and retreat to the depths.

As soon as Hunter and Wrecker were safely on board and the Marauder was out of harm’s way and put into hyperspace, they took their helmets off.

You chucked your breathing mask to the side and swiftly wrapped your arms around Hunter.

Hunter warmly returned your embrace and allowed himself that moment with you as his head rested in the crook of your neck.

You parted from Hunter but still kept your arm around his waist and looked at Deke who was still looking a little shell-shocked after the whole affair, “So, how’d you like being in a squad and fighting alongside a Jedi?”

“Umm… I think I could use some more training first.” Deke replied with a slight laugh.

“Hey, would all older clones get that treatment or…”

You and Hunter turned to the voice that belonged Stak and managed to share a look of fond amusement.

Hunter examined the information on the datapad but he managed to restrain himself and not read through it endlessly this time. He glanced up and looked fondly down the cockpit to see you and Wrecker enthusiastically listening to the cadet’s retelling of the events that had just transpired.

“I’ve been going over the data. Looks like Hemlock transferred his entire base of operations to another location.” Hunter revealed as he stepped inside. “His experiments too.”

You came to stand beside him and placed a hand on his upper arm. “Did the intel say where he went?”

“There was a mention of a sector but nothing more. It’s a lead, but we’ve got a lot of space to cover.”

“Well, if that’s where Omega is, then that’s where we’re going.” Wrecker said determinedly.

You affectionately squeezed Hunter’s shoulder to signal your agreement.

Hunter nodded his thanks to both of you before looking to the cadets. “We’ll drop you three of someplace safe.”

“Where?” Mox asked eagerly.

“An island. There are good people there. They’ll take care of you.”

“We’re cadets without an army. I don’t know where we fit anymore.” Mox said, the reality of their situation now hitting him harder than it had before.

“You have time to figure it out.” Hunter reassured him. “Make your own path. Be something other than a soldier.”

“What about you?”

Hunter glanced between you and Wrecker. “Our mission is not over yet.”

Wrecker laid a supportive hand on his brother’s back.

You watched with a warm heart as Mox reached his hand out and Hunter clasped it in return and in that moment, you felt it.

It was an emotion that had long been overshadowed by fear and despair but now you sensed its presence again.

You felt the hope that had been missing for some time.

“We’ve never had a sector before. That’s pretty good.” You whispered as the two of you lay in the quietness of the ship as it headed towards Pabu. The exertions of the past mission had claimed the others already.

“Yeah, it’s a better start than what we’ve had before.” Hunter agreed, drawing light patterns on your bare arm.

“How are you holding up?” You asked delicately as you rested your head on his chest and traced the small Jedi symbol of his necklace.

Hunter sighed heavily. “Better knowing we have something to go off of, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. There’s more I could be doing; I just know it.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, but you’d get to that last part in a minute. “You do seem a bit more like yourself.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, your adoptive paternal instincts kicked in again. These cadets bring the count up to five.” You said, a teasing lilt to your voice.

“My what?” He paused his ministrations on your arm.

“You heard me.”

“If you mean finding abandoned kids and taking them somewhere safe, that’s something anyone would do. I don’t-”

“No, not anyone, if that were the case with the cadets for example, they would’ve been off that nightmare of a planet long before we showed up. It’s a very you thing to do and it’s one of the many things I love about you.” You propped yourself up on your elbow to look at him. “You always do more than enough, Hunter. You are enough, don’t ever doubt that.”

Hunter looked at you lovingly. “I don’t know how I got through those months without you.”

“Well, if how you’ve been since I’ve been back, I’d guess by throwing yourself into the search, not taking care of your wellbeing and worrying Wrecker every day?” You theorised with a light-hearted tone. “Those are the habits we’re trying to break.”

Hunter turned his sight to the ceiling of the ship. “That sounds about right.” He admitted guiltily.

You angled his face to look back at you and your voice had no joking overtones now, it was full of sincerity. “I’m not going anywhere, remember. I’ll follow you to whatever end and so will Wrecker.”

Hunter pressed a chaste but tender kiss to your lips. “Thank you.” He breathed against your mouth.

You laid your head back down on his chest. “You know, it wouldn’t shock me if she found a way to get to us.”

Hunter kissed the crown of your head. “Yeah, that wouldn’t surprise me either.”

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @andreaaxy, @dominoeffectsworld, @nightmonkeysstuff, @arctrooper69, @starwarsnerd111, @fuckoffthanos, @graciexmarvel, @tpwkcalli, @brujaporfavor, @flyingkangaroo, @ladytano420, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf, @yyourmotherr, @sunkisseclones, @xxeiraxx, @dragonrider9905, @skellymom, @lokigirlszendaya

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch s3 #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x fem!reader #hunter x female!reader #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #angst #hurt/comfort #friends to lovers

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dystopicjumpsuit · 4 months

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It's not Sunday but I'm sharing my OC Draig anyway.

Charming, funny, and dodgy as hell, Draig has not paid for a drink in fifteen years. He’s the sort of person who will sit next to you in the Corrie drunk tank and laugh about how you ended up there while you wait for Mic to come bail you both out.

In his defense, it was a great story. Art by me 🩵

More info below the cut! Content warning for non-detailed violence and eye injury/loss.

Overview

Name: Draig Birth year/age: 51 BBY (32 at end of the Clone Wars) Species: Zabrak Pronouns: he/him Orientation: bi/pan Home planet: Oba Diah Current location: Coruscant Occupation: “acquisitions” contract specialist (AKA thief for hire); journeyman pain in the ass; professional menace to society and underpants across the galaxy Affiliation: Bounty Hunters’ Guild Alignment: chaotic neutral Family: Oisin (father); Epha (mother, deceased); Mic and Branna Dhorhil (family of the heart)

Physical characteristics

Height: 6’/182 cm without the horns, but he counts them, so he tells everyone 6’2”/188 cm. Mic considers this ridiculous. Eyes: brown, one cybernetic gray Hair: bald Skin: brown Tattoos/piercings/identifying marks: traditional Zabrak facial tattoos; various facial and ear piercings

Personal history:

Oisin and Epha had given up on having children when Draig came along. Oisin was 48, Epha was 41, and they were ecstatic to finally have the child they had so desperately wanted. Draig was their only child, and they adored him. The family lived happily for fourteen years, until Epha suddenly passed away from a massive stroke just before Draig started secondary school. Oisin was devastated, and Draig, in addition to his own grief, felt the weight of the galaxy on his young shoulders as he watched his father spiral.

When Draig started secondary school a couple months later, he was targeted by an older bully. Small for his age, and still reeling from the loss of his mother, Draig seemed like an easy target—at least, until Mic Dhorhil intervened when nobody else would. Draig and Mic both got suspended. Draig was distraught: the thought of adding to his father’s stress when Oisin was already struggling so much seemed like the end of the world to the young Zabrak. Mic took him to his own home instead so they could try to figure things out.

Mic’s mom Branna was home from work, and she convinced Draig that everything would be all right. She patched up both of the boys, got them a snack, and then commed Oisin to explain things diplomatically. From that point on, Draig and Mic were inseparable. The boys were best friends, and Draig imprinted like a baby duck on Branna as she stepped up to help him and Oisin through the loss of Epha.

The two families became so close that they stopped considering themselves separate families at all, which was why, when Oisin fell ill, Mic didn’t hesitate to go along with Draig’s plan to steal the medication he needed from the Pyke syndicate. Their plan was a simple smash and grab, and somehow, they made it out alive—barely. Draig’s adrenaline rush from his first heist had barely faded when the bounty hunter showed up at the Dhorhils’ house.

Mic, Draig, and Branna fought back fiercely, but the hunter managed to slash Draig across the face before Branna killed the man with his own vibroblade. There was nothing to be done to save Draig’s eye. They didn’t even have time to apply bacta until they were already aboard the shuttle Branna stole from the Oba Diah City spaceport, in hyperspace on the way to Coruscant.

The family disappeared into the Coruscant underworld until Branna was able to smooth things over with the Pykes. Oisin, having made a full recovery, opened a mechanic shop in the lower levels, while Mic started working in bars and restaurants and Branna took a position with Coruscant Public Transit. Draig, on the other hand, didn’t find the transition to Coruscant easy or straightforward, and he drifted into rougher crowds.

Having gotten a taste for adrenaline during the Pyke heist, he started to engage in petty theft, which he rationalized as helping out while finances were tight. Before long, he discovered that he didn’t just like the challenge and the rush of stealing: he was good at it. Really good. He started honing his skills, seeking out larger, more valuable, and more difficult targets, until one day, almost without realizing it, he had become one of the best thieves in the business. Unsurprisingly, this put a target on his back—not only from the Coruscant Security Force, but also from other thieves looking to make a name for themselves.

Out of self-preservation, Draig decided to join the Bounty Hunters’ Guild, where he offered his services to anyone who could pay. He specialized in what the Guild diplomatically called “acquisitions,” but the truth was that he would do just about anything for the right price.

Anything except turn on his family.

Personality:

Charming and irresponsible irresistible. There’s not much in life that Draig takes seriously. He’s laid-back and easy-going to a fault, except when it comes to his work. He’s happy to go with the flow and let other people take the lead—especially Mic. His adrenaline-junkie tendencies cause him to sometimes take unnecessary risks, though he would never intentionally put someone else in danger.

He is uncompromisingly loyal to an incredibly small circle of people. If you are in that circle, he’ll do anything for you, no questions asked, regardless of the legal, ethical, or moral implications. Outside that circle, though, he doesn’t get attached. He’s friendly and approachable, but he’s one of those people who you realize after you’ve talked to him for weeks that he’s never shared anything about himself beyond the most superficial details. You were just distracted by how much he made you laugh and how much fun you had together to realize that he never let you get close to him.

In relationships, this manifests in a string of short-term flings where both/all parties agree to part ways cordially within a few weeks at maximum. He generally goes into a relationship with the understanding and expectation that it will stay casual and light, and he’s up front with his partners about that. Despite that, there have been times when things have gotten complicated and messy, which is why he now refuses to allow anyone outside his family to know where he lives.

Draig completely lacks Mic’s intensity, which is ironic, given that of the two, Draig is far more likely to break someone’s heart. Again, he’d never do it on purpose, but it’s a little too easy to fall for him when he has made a career of not falling. Ever. Which is why it’s the end of the kriffing galaxy the first time he catches feelings.

Taglist:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @merkitty49

@anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella

@cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @sunshinesdaydream

@littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @marierg @idontgetanysleep

@moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine

@multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam

@skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist

@cw80831 @kimiheartblade @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal

@reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @starstofillmydream @msmeredithrose

@totallyunidentified @eclec-tech @euphoriacafe @hipwell @yve-barr

@dangraccoon @transactivecybermemory @etod

#star wars oc #original character #oc: draig #star wars #the clone wars #dystopicjumpsuit draws #dystopicjumpsuit writes

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alltheirdamn · 7 months

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A Bounty for Reward (Mando x f!reader)

CHAPTER 12

Summary: Revenge tastes so fucking sweet. Warnings: extreme violence, blood and gore, weapons, dismemberment (sorry...), torture, wound care, shower sex, unprotected piv sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, language Word Count: 7.1k A/N: First and foremost, I am so sorry it took me a bit of extra time to get this chapter posted. I am the WORST at writing action-packed scenes and truly spent a week bashing my head against a wall trying to get it right. (it still isn't good lol) But anyway, pls look past the monstrosity that is ~my writing~ and enjoy the karma Kesi deserves.

Din really fucking hated being stuck on a ship with the three Mandalorians. Paz was a part of Clan Vizsla, another house within the Death Watch. While Din hadn’t interacted much with him, the scene in Nevarro was enough to make his blood boil. Paz had never seen Din remove his helmet, but the insinuation he knew had Din on edge. Maybe the apparent relationship between him and the girl led Paz to consider the chances of Din breaking his Creed. Paz wasn’t wrong, but his distaste for Din would cause a problem if it went any further.

All four of them had squeezed into the cockpit of the Gauntlet as they flew towards Oba Diah. For a few hours, there was nothing but silence and building tension between them all. Bo Katan and Koska had removed their helmets early on, proving to be one more thing that set Din on edge. Despite his loyalty to the Death Watch, seeing them so free in their own Clan made him extremely envious. Din had renounced his loyalty but wasn’t ready to completely break free from all he had known.

“So,” Bo Katan said, breaking the silence.

She turned the pilot's seat around to face Din, a smug grin teasing the corners of her lips.

“This girl must be something special if you’re killing in her honor,” she smirked. “Let me guess, you broke your loyalty for her, huh? Took off that shiny helmet?”

Din didn’t respond. Bo Katan could see right through him.

“Does she know what that means?” Bo Katan raised an eyebrow.

“You are no Mandalorian,” Paz growled from beside Din.

Din exhaled heavily, turning his visor towards Paz. While Paz was twice his size, Din wasn’t intimidated; he was just worried that this situation would affect the mission.

“I have done nothing wrong,” Din said.

“Apostate! You have gone against our Creed, and for what? That girl?”

Din was out of his seat, pining Paz against his own with a vibroblade. Paz’s strength outdid Din’s, but Din kept a firm hand on Paz’s cowl to hold him down.

“I am still a Mandalorian!” Din snapped.

“Your loyalty lies elsewhere,” Bo Katan chimed in. “Unless you and her have taken vows to one another, Paz is correct. You have broken the creed within your Clan. In their books, you are no longer a Mandalorian.”

“I am loyal to my Clan,” Din defended, though it felt like a lie.

“You are loyal to her,” Bo Katan argued.

Paz shoved Din, forcing him to stumble back into his chair. Din knew in his heart his loyalty was to her and her alone, but admitting that aloud to other Mandalorians made the weight of it too heavy to carry. Especially with Paz, that admission would come with a fight in words and fists, and he needed their focus on the mission. Din still needed time to learn who he was without his Creed before he could face any more scrutiny.

“Our focus is this mission,” Din said firmly. “Nothing else.”

“I will not stand beside someone who tosses their loyalty at a woman's feet,” Paz snapped.

“You have come to fight, Paz,” Bo Katan interjected. “You both can sort your issues out after. We will fight in return for Mando’s help, and I will not let the rules of your Clan stand in the way.”

Paz had little else to say in doing so, leaving the cockpit and retreating into the belly of the ship. Din sat defeated, watching the galaxy pass by as they flew closer to Oba Diah. His mind was fixated on Kesi and all the ways he would torture him, though he found his thoughts wandering to the quiet moments spent on the Crest with her. Just this one mission, and he’d be home.

The Gauntlet passed through Oba Diah’s atmosphere a day later. The planet was drenched in an endless array of grey clouds and smoke. As they flew further into the city, it became alight in colors of neon green that seemed to dissolve into the smoky haze surrounding the mountain crags. Din had never seen a city built around a fortress, but that’s what it was: a fortress. Nestled between the obsidian cliffs and mountain crags, they flew closer to a large spaceport where several ships were inbound. Bo Katan slowed the ship as they neared the port, her focus dead set on landing somewhere untraceable.

“We’ll be lucky to make it out of here in one piece,” she grumbled.

Koska scoffed at her words, throwing a deadly glare at Din. He knew it was because of his infatuation with killing Kesi that they were all in this predicament, but he didn’t care. He needed this.

“Once this is settled, my help will be returned,” Din swore.

“Oh, I know,” Bo Katan said.

She found a secluded area in the mountain range to land the Gauntlet, giving them enough time to gather weapons and create a somewhat thought-out plan. Din knew that the Pykes were unpredictable, and whatever they were walking into, they needed to keep sharp. He was in full hunter mode now; nothing would prevent him from finding and killing Kesi.

Paz was quieter towards Din now, instead focusing on loading his large blaster—there was a reason why Mandalorians referred to him as the Heavy Infantry Mandalorian.

As Bo Katan lowered the ship's ramp, she adjusted her helmet on her head, Koska following suit. Din felt a sudden wave of jealousy washing over him as he observed their nonchalance with the motion, wishing he could feel that free with his armor. He could be as free as he desired with her but not surrounded by Mandalorians who scrutinized his every move and decision.

“There’s an entrance into the fortress on the eastern edge of the mountain range,” Bo Katan explained. “We’ll move there and secure the surroundings before entering. I’m not sure where Kesi could be located in the fortress, but we need to stay alert and ready for any possible chance of a fight.”

They nodded in agreement and started to hike east towards the entrance. It was no easy trek to the entrance as they encountered unstable ground and falling rocks, but as they neared the fortress, the ground evened out and gave a clear path to the door. Din surveyed the surroundings; his blaster clutched tight as he scanned the perimeter. He gave an ‘all-clear’ sign to the other three, motioning them forward. Paz approached the entrance first, trying his hand at the coded system that kept it locked. Din wasn’t surprised to find it heavily armored, but it didn’t seem to phase Paz as he blasted the system and sent the door flying open.

“Easy enough,” Paz grumbled, forcing his large body through the door first.

It was, in fact, not easy.

The security system of the fortress set off a loud alarm, the entire entrance drenched in red as they sprinted down the hallway. The blaring sound of the alarm drowned out Din’s mind as he raced through the building, his weapon lifted as he readied himself for the fight. Bo Katan and Koska remained further back to guard Din and Paz as they swept through the lower floor, scanning for any indication of straggling spice traders. They came up empty and continued to scour the lower level until they reached an unmanned turbolift.

“Be ready for the fight,” Din instructed, leading them into the lift.

Bo Katan unsheathed her duel pistols, followed by Koska lifting her blaster rifle to eye level as they faced the door. Paz was grumbling nonsense as he readied his weapon, training it at the door for when it opened. The turbolift ascended above ground, the lights flickering red as it came to a stop. Din held in a breath as he anticipated the worst, his weapon mirroring the other Mandalorians.

They knew what awaited them when the doors opened.

Pykes littered the hallway as the turbolift door opened, their rifles sending a downpour of blasts toward the four Mandalorians. Din ducked under the fire, sending a return of shots that forced a domino effect of Pykes falling to the ground. Paz advanced in front of Din, his large blaster nearly incinerating the remaining smugglers that stood in their way.

“Good work,” Din panted.

Paz huffed at his words, stalking forward as they turned down another hallway. Bo Katan and Koska flanked Din’s sides, their helmets whipping back and forth for any other Pykes on their tails. Despite their arguments on the ship, Din was grateful for their help because he knew he wouldn’t have survived this alone.

The hallway opened into a large operations room, the screens covered in static and blinking lights. Bo Katan surged forward to inspect the operation systems, checking for locations within the fortress that might be useful. Paz remained in the doorway, his blaster set to kill in case anyone ventured their way. Once Bo Katan located a map of the fortress, Din’s eyes wildly searched it for any clues. The entire Pyke fortress was a series of mazes that led to various operation rooms or spice mills. Din had a hunch Kesi would be in one of the main operations rooms, so he set his sights on traveling higher to the heart of the building.

While they gathered information, another grouping of Pykes rounded the entrance, circling them until they were outnumbered. A slew of shots rang out from both sides, some of the shots hitting the hardware within the room and lighting the systems on fire. They had to move now before things got worse. All four Mandalorians fought their way out of the smoking room and maneuvered over the dead bodies as they searched for another escape route. Din led them back into the hallway toward another turbolift, keeping a mental note of which operations rooms he wanted to tear apart, all the while fantasizing about the way he’d torture Kesi.

The turbolift opened into the heart of the fortress, the hallway lined with Syndicate members waiting to strike them down. Each advanced at a deadly speed, their rifles more powerful than the last group they encountered. Din surged forward, dropping to a crouch as he tore through the bodies with his vibroblade. Din was bloodthirsty as he watched them drop to the ground, their masked faces staring blankly at the ceiling as they continued through the fortress. He was ruthless with each kill, striking some with his blaster while he tore into others with his blade. The other Mandalorians didn’t hold back with their violence, either, their body count adding to his as they moved in deadly silence.

“Check every room,” Din commanded. “If you find Kesi before I do, you alert me. He’s mine.”

The violence laced within Din’s words forced them to agree in silence as they split up, each tracking the halls on their own. Din moved through the main hallway of the fortress, the alarm still blaring in the back of his mind. His armor was doused in red light as he lurked around the corners, dropping Pykes where they stood. Some of their shots landed against his armor, but they made no impact on the beskar covering his chest or arms.

He approached the first row of rooms lining the hallway, the metal steel doors taunting him with each step. Din nearly vibrated with rage when he hijacked the last room, the remnants of sabacc tables and spice dirtying the ground. He was losing his sanity with each step, knowing how close he was to finding Kesi and coming up empty every time a new room appeared. Standing in the final empty room, Din let out a frustrated yell, sinking his fist into the metal wall until it dented.

“Mando!” Bo Katan’s voice broke through the rage-filled thoughts in his mind.

She appeared at the room entrance, her helmet flicking to the wall and back to Din’s heaving body. He schooled his features, straightening his shoulders as he waited for her to speak. He desperately needed to hear those three words leave her mouth.

“We found him,” Bo Katan said.

Din’s vision went red.

Bo Katan led him down a series of pathways, already covered in bloodshed and death left by her and Koska, till they reached a standalone room. Din clipped his blaster back onto his weaponry belt as he followed Bo Katan through the broken doorway. He wouldn’t need a gun for this death; he wanted to draw out the pain until there was nothing left of Kesi.

Paz had Kesi pinned to the floor, Koska flanking his side with her blaster raised and aimed at Kesi’s head. Din stepped into the room and motioned for her to lower her weapon. She stepped aside, letting Din take her spot.

“Leave us,” Din said, angling his head toward the doorway.

“We can kill him right now,” Paz argued.

Din’s helmet snapped toward Paz, and he wished Paz could see the dangerous glare twisting his facial features. Gnashing his teeth together, he waited for Paz to relent and leave.

“He’s mine,” Din snapped.

Paz gave one stiff nod and retreated into the hallway.

Kesi laughed, exhausted, as he slumped against the wall, his teeth barred and yellow eyes gleaming under the flashing red lights. The color distorted his features, his face shadowed and mocking as he stared at Din.

“All of this chaos for some whore?” He taunted.

Din’s fist made contact with the center of Kesi’s face, bone cracking the only noise above the alarm system. This was just the start of what he wanted to do to the vile piece of shit in front of him. Kesi doubled over, groaning and clutching his bleeding nose, and Din took a slow step forward, crowding him against the ground. Lowering himself into a crouch, he gripped Kesi by the hair on his scalp, forcing him to meet the visor of his helmet.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you,” Din growled.

Kesi spit blood at Din’s helmet, the splatter minimal across the visor. Din wished Kesi could see the murderous grin he had as he watched him writhe under his grasp.

“You realize the type of people that will hunt you down, right?” Kesi laughed, blood coating his teeth.

“Let them.”

Din unsheathed his vibroblade and angled it at the base of Kesi’s neck. Dragging the tip across the skin, he relished at how the blood slowly pooled to the surface. Releasing his grip on Kesi’s hair, Din reached for Kesi’s hand and bent it sideways, followed by another harmony of cracking bones. Kesi wailed in pain, thrashing against Din’s hold.

“You touched her once,” Din accused. “That needs to be fixed.”

Steadying the broken hand, Din took the blade to Kesi’s first finger, sawing against the bone until the flesh fell away along with the digit. He paid no mind to the sound of Kesi’s cries as he moved to the next finger, repeating the mutilation until his hand was void of all five fingers. Blood seeped into Din’s glove as he tossed the damaged hand aside, reaching for Kesi’s other to deliver the same torture.

“Stop!” Kesi begged as Din tore into the first finger.

“Did you stop when she begged?” Din seethed.

Kesi only whimpered, his body shaking with a mixture of pain and blood loss.

“I didn’t think so,” Din said.

With all of his fingers disposed onto the ground at his feet, Din lifted the blade back to the edge of Kesi’s jaw. The man was practically a heap of flesh and blood, his consciousness slipping with each passing moment.

“Hell is too good for someone like you,” Din whispered.

He drew the bloodied blade across Kesi’s neck, a gurgled sound seeping from his lips. Din stepped back to watch as it stained his tanned skin and tattered clothes, the color of it darkening with each flash of the red lights in the room. Kesi’s body crumpled to the floor, his eyes staring blankly at the walls. Din wasn’t done yet.

Grounding the sole of his boot between Kesi’s shoulder blades, he yanked Kesi’s head up and tore into the flesh and bone of his throat until his head fell from his body.

It wasn’t enough to fix the past, but it was enough to satisfy Din.

The other Mandalorians didn’t question Din when he emerged from the room drenched with Kesi’s blood. Bo Katan gave him a knowing nod, grasping his shoulder as they turned to leave. Din was in a murderous haze as they rewound their way down to the east entrance, still on alert for other Pykes. So far, they were clear as they rounded the path back to the Gauntlet.

“We need to go back to Nevarro,” Din huffed.

“I’ll give you a week with your girl, and we'll leave for our mission,” Bo Katan replied. “No backing out now, Mando. You did us a favor, and now you owe me.”

“I understand.”

The ramp lowered to the ship, and they began climbing up. From the corner of his eye, Din spotted a Pyke lurking on the ship's west side, barreling toward them. Din flipped his blaster from his hip, but not fast enough to avoid a sharp pain threading up his abdomen. He heard the remnants of footsteps running down the ramp behind him as everything around him faded.

You were getting stir-crazy in the confines of the room Karga had stuffed you into. You had the freedom to leave as long as he oversaw your every move, but without Din, nothing interested you. Which was pretty fucking pathetic. Never could you have imagined your life revolving around a man—it was sort of laughable. But you loved him, and that outweighed the unfortunate butterflies in your stomach swirling about.

You had sat yourself by the window most of the morning, watching the citizens of Nevarro roam about the main street. Though most of the town was filled with bounty hunters and drunken gamblers, you could spot small families occasionally. That pang of jealousy still thrummed inside your heart as you gazed upon them; you hated that you couldn’t have that life. You hated that you couldn’t give Din that same life, too. If he ever wanted to have a family, it wouldn’t happen with you, and that was a truth you’d have to learn to live with.

As the morning passed into early afternoon, you caught a glimpse of a ship passing through the atmosphere. It was Bo Katan’s ship; you knew that much. Your feet couldn’t carry you fast enough through the inn and streets; your breath ragged as you finally made ground toward the docking port. It wasn’t until you saw Paz Viszla carrying a limp body down the ramp that your body stood paralyzed.

It was Din.

“What the hell happened?” You nearly screamed, barely avoiding stumbling into Bo Katan. She kept you at arm's length despite your body fighting against her hold. You tried to conceal your worry, but you failed… poorly. Din’s hand was clutching his side, blood pooling over his glove. You didn’t even have time to understand why the rest of him was caked in dried blood, either, but you had a terrible hunch you knew the reason.

“A Pyke snuck up on us as we were leaving,” Bo Katan explained, still keeping you feet from Paz.

You schooled your expression as Paz laid Din on the ground, followed by a pained groan muffled through the modulator. You pushed off Bo Katan, crouching down to inspect the wound.

“You couldn’t have fucking helped him?” You yelled at Bo Katan.

She pulled her helmet from her head, her eyes filled with anger as she glared down at you.

“We barely made it out of Oba Diah alive,” she explained. “They hunted down our ship through the atmosphere and nearly shot us down. You’re lucky any of us survived.”

You shot to your feet, jabbing a finger into her breastplate, followed suit by Koska raising her blaster at you. You paid no mind to the weapon in your face as you barred your teeth at Bo Katan.

“Do you want his help for your own mission?” You cocked an eyebrow. “Then help.”

“He doesn’t want our help,” she argued. “He kept asking for you. So you help him. He’s no good to us if he’s injured, so the sooner he can heal, the sooner he can fulfill the side of his deal.”

You could barely contain your anger as you snapped your head toward Paz. You pointed to Din’s weak body and gave silent instructions to lift him.

“Bring him to the Crest,” you ordered. “I’ll take care of him. All of you need to fucking leave.”

“Remember, little one, he did this all for you,” Bo Katan said.

Her words were close to breaking you, but you wouldn’t give her that power. You had hated her from the start, and in that moment, you really fucking hated her. You hated her for the reminder that you were the reason Din had gotten into the mess, and more importantly, you were the reason he was injured. You’d carry that guilt for your life.

It took both you and Paz to carry Din up the ramp of the Crest, Din moaning with each step. He had mumbled your name a few times as you held his side, forcing tears to sting your eyes. He was alive; that was the important thing right now. Once Paz situated Din on the floor of the cargo hold, you screamed at him to leave and waited until the ramp closed to finally lose your shit.

You held Din against your body, his helmet tipping to the side, the cold metal grazing your skin. The coldness of it stung, eliciting a wince from your mouth, but you pushed past it as you came to wrap your arm around his shoulder. Glancing down at his side, you peeled his hands away, exposing the gnarly gash. It was still slowly leaking blood, the tear in his pilot suit soaked in crimson colors. The fabric itself was seared away, the weapon that caused it far more violent than a standard blade.

“Vibroblade,” he choked out, answering your wondering thoughts.

Your eyes shot up to the helmet, watching as it rocked to each side, his focus fading quickly. Your hand squeezed his bicep, forcing him to stay focused on you. You examined the wound again, seeing that it had penetrated through the thickest layer of his skin. It would need more than bacta spray and a med patch, but you would try what you could to suture it.

Din let out a low groan, his helmet smacking back against the wall.

“Hey!” You snapped. “Mando, you gotta stay with me, alright?”

“Din,” he sighed. “We’re alone.”

Your head rested against his arm momentarily, your pulse thumping in your ears as you tried to assess the situation. Fingers reaching up under his cowl, you pressed against his jawline, feeling for a pulse under his sweating skin. It was there; it was faint. No matter what, he had to stay awake and alert.

“Din,” you whispered. “Din, can I take your helmet off?”

He didn’t respond, his muscles growing lax under your hold.

“Din!” You hissed frantically.

Without a response and permission, you pressed the latches on either side of the helmet, letting it crash against the metal floor as you tossed it aside. The chestnut curls of his hair stuck to damp, tanned skin, the remnants of battle plastered across his face. His brows were furrowed in apparent discomfort, thick eyelashes fluttering as his eyes remained shut. You swiped a finger over his cheek, collecting a rolling trail of sweat as it fell from his brow. In any other situation, you would be pressing your lips against his urgently, but this wasn’t the time.

“Din,” you said quietly, “I’ve got to get the bacta spray, okay? I’ll be right back.”

He grunted in response, his lips twitching as if to say something. You halted, waiting for any sound to leave his pursed mouth. But nothing came. Leaving a chassed kiss on his forehead, you found your way to the refresher to grab the med kit, thankful he had restocked it when you arrived on Nevarro. Collecting everything you needed–wound cleaner, bacta spray, sutures, med patches–you rushed back to Din, watching as his chest rose and fell softly.

“You still with me?” You asked. Your hand came up to cup his cheek, his body leaning into your touch slightly.

“Hmph,” was all that came from his mouth.

“Good enough for me,” you sighed.

Eyes roaming back to the gash on his side, you tore away more of the suit’s fabric to make enough room for the wound cleaner. Dumping the liquid onto your hands, you started massaging it against the soft skin covering his ribcage. Din grunted as the liquid stung his open wound, the chemicals working overtime to sanitize the extremity of the injury. It would be a miracle if he came out unscathed from an infection. The more your hands worked around the skin, the more he flinched away.

“Stop fucking moving,” you snapped. “I can’t help you if you keep jerking away from me.”

You hadn’t meant to be so mean, but it was the underlying worry bubbling to the surface. You weren’t mad at him; you were just mad. Mad that it was your fault he left in the first place. Mad that his fixation on killing Kesi led him to be attacked by the Pykes. Taking a moment to breathe, you wiped your hands on your work pants, the caked-on blood smearing across the linen fabric. That was never coming out, you thought to yourself.

Realizing you forgot a towel, you improvised, ripping apart your shirt to clean off the skin around the wound. Din winced again, this time his body twitching away from you as you touched him. Reaching a hand up to his neck, you tried soothing him, only for him to respond otherwise. With a violent grip, Din grabbed your wrist, the leather of his gloves digging into the tendons of your forearm. Yelping in pain, you glanced up, seeing his eyes set ablaze in anger and confusion. Twisting your arm harder, he hunched over you, face moving closer to yours with each constriction.

“Hey!” you cried, “Din, it’s me!”

Still, he was unwavering, the anger too blinding for him to see past. You used all your strength to pry his fingers from your arm, only to be matched with the same strength from his own, pinning you further against the ground. You pleaded silently, watching the emotions stir within the brown of his eyes. Glimpses of reality flickered back and forth, the hold of the past a stronger vice than the present.

“Din!” You nearly screamed.

That caught his attention.

Ripping your arm from his loosening grip, you stared at him in stunned silence, rubbing the finger marks that bruised your wrist. His eyes washed over you, up and down… up and down, until he settled on your face with an apologetic look. Your name fell off his lips with a broken rasp.

“Yeah, I know,” you sighed, the anger in you simmering, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“I hurt you,” he said, hand lifting to hold your face.

You batted it away, grabbing the bacta spray and giving his wound a long coating of the medicine. He yelped in pain, the initial shock of the chemicals stunting him from speaking again.

“No more than getting yourself hurt,” you snapped. You resprayed the medicine, his body flinching from yours. “You should have never done this. I wasn’t worth this.”

“Angel,” He choked through a few breaths.

“Don’t,” you whispered. “You know I’m right.”

“I needed to do this.”

Frustrated, you laughed, tossing the bacta spray half away across the hold until it clattered against the refresher door. Din’s head turned from the bottle to you, his brows knit with confusion. Peeling away the backing of a med patch, you smoothed it over the wound, rubbing it over and over mindlessly. He winced again under you, this time locking his fingers around yours in an attempt to stop your sadistic behavior.

“Enough,” he rasped.

“If you had just let it go, you wouldn’t be hurt. You should have stayed,” you continued, talking through your anger. Your hand smoothed the patch down over and over and over again until he finally squeezed your fingers until the bones ground together. You yanked your hand away, sitting back on your heels as you watched him analyze the bandaged cut. With med supplies covering the ground, half your shirt torn off, and his helmet missing, you could finally see Din piecing together the situation you had been left in.

He sighed.

“He deserved to die, angel. I swore I’d go after him, and I’m sorry I got hurt. There would always be that risk of getting hurt, and I’m sorry it happened,” he conceded.

You paused, watching as his eyes batted themselves close. His lips parted slightly, chapped from the oxygen intake over the last several minutes. Every inch of his face was covered in exhaustion and pain, the worry lines in his skin far more prominent than ever. Reaching up again, you thumbed over the small patches of gray in his beard, rubbing it softly as the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile.

“What’re you smiling for?” You grumbled, pitching the coarse hair between two fingers.

Peaking out one eye, Din stared you down, capturing you in the dark brown of his eyes.

“You’re beautiful. And I missed you.”

“And you’re lucky to be alive,” you rolled your eyes. “You’re an idiot. You had me scared that I would lose you.”

Din wrapped an arm around you, hugging you gingerly to his side, exhaling your name. You took careful consideration in not leaning against the freshly cleaned wound, your weight leaning more into his shoulders than anything else. He huffed a long sigh, his lips connecting with your forehead for a long, thoughtful kiss.

“Thank you for taking care of me. I’m sorry you had to in the first place.”

“You left me no choice.”

Several moments passed without a response from him, the only sound being the light buzz of the cargo hold. His body rose and fell softly with each passing breath, his face finally softening as he rested. As long as his wound was cared for, he could rest, and you would let him. Peeling yourself out of his arms, you cleaned up the mess of supplies in the quiet, retiring to the cockpit to sit in silence.

Above all else, you were mad at yourself. You could pin your anger on Bo Katan, but it was useless. You could easily pin your anger on Din, but you knew the reason behind his actions. He promised you freedom; he promised you Kesi would be caught, and that’s what you wanted, right? It had been everything you wanted, yet seeing him injured and hurt made you rethink it all. Was this how he felt after the attack on the Crest?

But this was different. He had the help of three other Mandalorians and still came out injured. This could have been avoided if you hadn’t even been introduced into his life in the first place, but you wouldn’t let your mind roam to those invasive thoughts. Feeding into those thoughts brought you right back to that instinct to run. All you did was ruin everything around you, regardless of Din’s own choices; ultimately, it was your fault. Yes, you were free now, but that didn’t wash your hands clean of the blood on them.

Hours passed before you heard rustling in the cargo hold. Climbing down from the cockpit, you found Din in the refresher, the sound of water softly echoing beyond the door. His armor and flight suit were piled on the bed, and his weapons belt hung inside the armory across from the refresher. Your eyes lingered on the blood covering the beskar armor, a chill running up your spine at the thought of what he did. Kesi was dead—more than dead, by the looks of it.

The steam of the refresher left the cargo hold warm and humid, and the idea of warm water on your body seemed much better than staying in the freezing lower deck.

Stripping out of your torn and bloodied clothes, you slid open the refresher door, the soft hiss of it closing lost beneath the sound of the falling water. Behind the fog and steam, you could see the silhouette of your bounty hunter, his tanned skin glistening from the water. His back was to you, giving you a complete view of his broad shoulders. While his hands worked their way through his damped curls, you could see the flex and movement of his back muscles, along with the scatters of scars that covered his skin in clusters. Small slashes from past battles, memories of bounties, years of fighting… all displayed in an array of darkened marks against his skin.

Finding your way into the small space, you hugged your body against his, wrapping your arms around his torso. You could feel the way his body tensed and released as he adjusted to your chest flush with his back. He was warm, and you inhaled the lingering smell of gunpowder and sweat on his body. His hands snaked around your arms, fingers trailing down to interlock with yours. Your mouth roamed over his skin, kissing each scar as you moved across the planes of his shoulder blades. His fingers squeezed yours, drawing your own hands to his lips. With each kiss you placed, he left his own on your fingers, his soft lips covering you in tender kisses.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling you around to face him.

His eyes were soft in the dim lights of the refresher, his eyelashes covered in water droplets as he looked down on you lovingly. Din roamed his hands over the curves of your body, squeezing your hips as you leaned back to dampen your hair. Feeling him press against you, you pulled him down to meet your lips, the water falling over both your open mouths. Noticing him harden against your leg, you leaned into him, eliciting a soft moan from his lips.

“Let me take care of you now,” he rasped, his mouth nipping at your jawline. “Let me make things better.”

A warmth spread low in your body in response to his words, wetness growing between your thighs as his hand trailed lower. He brushed a finger up your inner thigh, a shiver running through your body as you bucked against his hand.

“Din,” you said breathlessly.

Din had you pressed against the wall in one smooth motion, the cold tile stinging your skin. His hand coaxed your thighs further apart, a calloused finger drawing hard, slow circles around your clit. Keening, your head fell against his chest, your core clenching at each movement of his fingers. He responded to your growing whimpers as he slipped a thick finger between your wet folds, curling it deep inside you until you released a loud moan. Slipping another finger in, Din pushed his hand further against your wet cunt, his thumb finding itself comfortably against your clit. A blinding ripple of pleasure clouded your vision as your nails dug into the tensed muscles of his biceps.

“Right there,” you panted, hips pushing forward to feel the curl of his fingers in the deepest part of you.

A growl vibrated through his chest as his fingers moved at a rougher pace, drawing you right to the brink of your orgasm. Letting out an exhausted cry, you clenched around his fingers, grinding your hips against his hand until his fingers were covered in your juices. As he pulled his fingers from you–drawing a small gasp from your lips–he bent down to meet your lips with a passionate kiss. Teasing your own open wider, Din deepened the kiss as your name fell off his tongue in a soft admission.

He was insatiable.

But you had other plans.

Using what little strength you had, you pivoted until he was pinned against the wall, his pupils blown wide with lust. You rubbed your hands over the expanse of his broad chest, fingers curling through the hair that covered his tan skin. You made sure to avoid his bandaged wound, seeing a small stain of blood leaking through the med patch. Kissing over his sternum, you let your weak legs draw you down, a trail of kisses leading the way as you positioned yourself on your knees. The placement of the water behind you hit your back in warm waves, the pressure of it soothing you as your fingers dug into the dip of his pelvic bone. Din let out a soft groan, his eyes never leaving you as your tongue danced over the soft flesh of his stomach.

He was achingly hard by the time your mouth roamed to his cock, the tip leaking with precum already. Leaving gentle kisses along the length of his cock, you gazed upwards to find him wrecked with wanton need. You were working at an agonizingly slow pace, and he was at your disposal. With the tip of your tongue, you drew a long, steady line from the base of his cock, a deep shudder echoing through his body. His hand tangled itself in your hair, his fingers scraping against your scalp as he urged you to take him in your mouth. Letting him guide his cock into your mouth, you suppressed a moan as it hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck,” he exhaled.

He thrust into your mouth, slow at first, then picking up speed as he felt your lips adjust to the girth of his cock. Your eyes stayed trained on him, watching as his jaw fell slack each time you swallowed him. You felt his body as it began to tense up, the peak of his orgasm straining through his muscles as he tightened his grip on your hair. You circled his cock, the sensitivity too much to bear as he finally spilled himself into your mouth. Swallowing hot ropes of cum, you waited until he softened to release him, a string of saliva connecting from the head of his cock to your wet lips. Grinning up at him, you kissed the soft skin of his thighs, sitting back on your heels as the water cascaded over your scalp.

Your rest didn’t last long as Din reached down, gripping your elbow and yanking you back to your feet. His lips were on you, hot and urgent, as his tongue dipped inside your mouth. He moaned deeply into the kiss, the salty taste of his cum still lingering on your tongue. His fingers dug themselves into the plush curve of your hips, their grip bruising and rough as he laid claim over you.

You mewled against his lips, your hands tangling themselves in the curls at the base of his neck, tugging softly as you felt his cock harden against your thigh. His mouth roamed down your neck, sucking marks into the skin–marks you knew would still be there tomorrow. You gasped as his teeth sucked down into the sensitive flesh between your neck and shoulder blade, just as his hands urged your thighs around his waist. With little effort on his end, Din hauled you up until your ankles were crossed at his lower back, your thighs widening to brace against his hips.

“You want me to show how badly I need you, angel?” He whispered, his voice low. “Need me to prove it to you?”

“Please,” you begged.

Taking himself in his hand, Din coated himself in your slick, splitting you open as he buried himself to the base of his cock. A cry escaped your lips as a hum of satisfaction left his. With a hand on your ass and the other braced against the wall, he thrust into you with violent strokes, each one hitting your core in blinding precision. He knew the exact spot that halted your breathing and left you wordless with nothing but high-pitched whines.

“This is how badly I need you,” he gritted. “I fucking need this cunt; I fucking need you. Fuck, so good for me.”

You cried out, your body clenching as the ache inside your stomach grew until you couldn’t contain it anymore.

“Din!” You sobbed.

He was relentless, his thrusts more brutal with each force into you, and you could feel the tears spilling down your cheeks as you came. Your cunt pulsed hard as you clenched around his cock; his strokes halted as you squeezed around it. There was a choked sound lodged in his throat, and his own body tensed as he spilled himself inside you. His nails dug into the plush skin of your ass, his body grinding against your wet cunt as you continued throbbing around him. He hung his head a moment, mouth open as he panted heavily. Your own body was wracked with pleasure, a sting of pain coursing through your cervix from how cruel his movements were. As he slipped out of you, you could feel the mixture of your cum spill down your inner thigh, the spraying water washing it away as he guided you back onto your feet. The soreness in your thighs now would be thousands of times worse tomorrow, but you didn’t mind.

You liked the reminder of him.

“I love you,” he said, kissing your head softly. “I’m sorry for scaring you today, but I’m not sorry for what I did. You’re free now… you’re free.”

Fresh tears clouded your eyes as that realization settled in. You were free, and you were his.

“Thank you,” you sighed. “I love you.”

You glanced up at him, your bounty hunter, eyes aglow as he looked down on you. A gentle smile played on his lips, yet it didn’t fully meet his eyes. You could tell he was in pain as your eyes wandered down to his wound, seeing blood soaked through the med patch far more than you recalled from moments ago.

“You won’t heal if you keep fucking me that hard,” you teased.

“I guess I’ll never heal then,” he countered, pulling you flush to his chest.

You laughed, tilting your head to meet his lips.

“Let me clean this up,” you said, hands resting on his shoulders.

“Later.” It was a warning. “I’m not ready to heal up just yet.”

Later, you’d ask him about Oba Diah, but you only wanted him and that taste of pure freedom.

#mando x reader #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando #mandalorian fanfic #star wars fanfiction #ao3 #tw blood and gore #tw violence #wound care #sex makes everything better right?

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split-spectrum · 1 year

Text

Water and Rock

Chapter 4

Pairings: Obi Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: (more to come) slow burn, explicit content, smut, drug use, dubcon

Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.

☆☆☆

Your senses drag you to consciousness when the ship jolts, then comes slowly to a complete stop. Your stomach lurches and you remove your rebreather, kicking through the liquid to reach the top of your tank. Across from you, Obi Wan has done the same, throwing his arms over the side.

"What do you suppose that was?" you cough, bacta fluid running down your arms to drip on the floor.

Storne cuts off any response Obi Wan may have given when he runs into the medbay, calling your name.

"We've been pulled in for inspection by a Separatist cruiser."

"What?" Obi Wan bites out. "That's not possible. Oba Diah is not aligned with the Separatists."

"Alright, go tell them that," Storne retorts, walking toward your tank.

Obi Wan runs a hand over his face, pulling his wet hair out of his eyes. "No one in your network was aware of their presence?"

Storne doesn't answer, turning to you instead. You're lifting yourself out of the bacta tank, sliding backward onto the platform next to it. Obi Wan's gaze instantly drops to the floor. Meanwhile, Storne's eyes never leave you as you wrap your robe around your dripping body. He reaches his arms up to you and you take one of his hands, allowing him to help you down to the floor.

"We can figure out why they're here later. Have they sent any communications yet?"

He shakes his head. "I came to get you as soon as their tractor beam hit us. All channels are open. Nothing's come through yet."

You walk quickly to the ship's small bridge, seating yourself in the captain's chair. Storne stands behind you, resting his hands on the seat. A moment later Obi Wan joins you, fully clothed and clipping his lightsaber back on his belt.

You stare out of the main viewport at the looming ship pulling you into its grasp, and then you close your eyes.

The noise of the control panel, of the ship, of the universe, slowly fade. You quiet your mind until everything physical feels more and more distant, and finally seems to disappear. You're enveloped by a familiar, steady current, and you let yourself drift outward. Everything you know in the material world is the shore, and the force is a river, always flowing. You let go of the shore, trusting the force to surround you and bring you where you need to go.

When you're adrift, you feel other eddies within the flow. One of these eddies feels dark and menacing, and you turn your attention toward it. You're vaguely aware that there are still others in the room with you, but they might as well be on another plane of existence when you're in this state. Still, you know they're present, and you speak to them.

"Try to silence your thoughts, both of you."

They don't respond, or you don't hear them. You reach out in the force's current to ripple a wave toward the darkness, testing it. It is distant, but it is weak. There are no violent emotions, no authoritative demands here. Simple disinterest. A vague sense of obligation. You relax a bit.

"It's routine. They don't know anything."

At that moment, you hear a voice over the comm channel, and you pull yourself back to the corporeal world slightly to listen more intently.

"Unknown vessel, identify yourself."

"Tell them any set of numbers. Tell them we're a shipping vessel."

"They're going to ask for more than that," Storne says carefully. He's aware of what you can do - it's why he came to get you into the captain's seat. But he's nervous.

You shake your head gently without opening your eyes. "Just tell them."

He leans toward the comm panel, pressing a button. "Ship A7236, commercial shipping vessel, inbound to Oba Diah."

There's a long pause. Your consciousness drifts closer to the enemy, and when you're finally able to distinguish their specific signature, you set to work, penetrating their mind and invading their thoughts. You focus all of your energy on placing one idea into their head.

I am in an enormous hurry. This ship must leave and I must get on with my other duties. This ship is unimportant. My next duty is my only concern

You project that thought as heavily and repetitively as you can, feeling the force moving around you, through you, and through your target. You are connected now. You tighten your grip on the connection.

My next duty is my only concern

This ship is unimportant

My next duty is my only concern...

"Ship A7236, you are clear to go. Proceed on your current course."

You hear Storne let out a loud breath of relief behind you, and within the force Obi Wan's restless waves become smaller, fading into the smooth, flowing current.

Storne's hands grip you by your shoulders, squeezing tightly and shaking you just a bit. "Nice job, sweetheart."

His jostling is almost enough to make you open your eyes, but you keep your concentration. You may have received the all-clear order, but the moment you let go of your hold on the enemy's psyche, you would be back in danger of further questioning. You allow Storne's hands to remain on your shoulders, but soon he realizes his mistake, pulling back.

After a few more moments, you're released from the tractor beam entirely and Storne takes over the controls, putting you back on course. You maintain your connection with the cruiser's communications officer until you're at such a distance that it becomes impossible, and finally the link breaks, diminishing into the emptiness of space.

You open your eyes at last, looking around the bridge. Your chest heaves with the wave of exhaustion that hits you from the strain of keeping contact over long distance. You slump forward, catching yourself on the control panel.

Obi Wan looks over at you with a smile. "Well done, Commander."

You manage a small smile back. "Thanks."

Completely exhausted, you turn slowly in your chair to face him. "But now I think we should get back to your earlier question: Why is there a Separatist cruiser in the Kessel system?"

"Maybe they got lost," Storne quips.

You give a forced smile, then turn back to Obi Wan. "Maybe our original mission was more successful than we thought."

"Our cover was blown," he points out.

"The plan was to spread rumors that we were working with Jedi. What difference does it make if they discovered we were Jedi? As long as they don't know our identities, they might believe we defected. Or at least that we're corrupted enough to sell a holocron for profit."

"Are you suggesting that we continue our mission as planned?"

You shrug. "It wouldn't hurt to reach out to a few of my contacts when we get back to the planet and see exactly what details have gotten out."

He brushes a knuckle against his beard. Finally, he gives you an affirmative look. "If there's any chance to salvage our original mission, we should take it."

"Agreed," you say, rising from your seat. "But until we get back to the planet, I'm spending every minute I can in that tank."

Your cuts and bruises have mostly disappeared, but your sore muscles are still calling for more rest, and if you're headed directly back to the job, you're not going to waste your precious downtime. Storne calls after you as you head back to the medbay.

"Just let me know if you want any company."

Obi Wan's head snaps toward you.

"Just concentrate on getting us home in one piece," you say over your shoulder, not looking back. You also don't look to the side, where Obi Wan's eyes are still searching for you to acknowledge him. You look straight ahead, pretending not to see his arched eyebrow.

As soon as you're alone again in the medbay, you drop your robe over your shoulders and start to undress, turning your back to him, knowing he'll finally look away. You're exhausted from your journey and your excessive use of the force; you don't want to have this discussion right now.

After undressing, you sink back into the tank as quickly as you can without being obvious. He clears his throat uncomfortably, clearly wanting to say something. You close your eyes, not giving him an opening. He takes the hint, and you can hear him sliding into his own tank again, in silence.

Then, after a beat, he catches you just before you drift off.

"You and Storne seem... quite close."

Nearly made it.

You lift your head, slowly cracking your eyelids again. "We were very close. We've known each other a long time."

"I see."

He doesn't add anything, but you can hear in his tone that he's not going to let this go. You open your eyes all the way to look at him properly.

"We were married once."

Obi Wan nearly chokes on a cough, bringing one hand up to stifle himself. "Pardon?"

You smirk. You try not to push your old master's buttons, but sometimes the temptation is too great.

"For a week," you continue, smiling wider at his confused expression. "It was part of a covert operation. We lived together posing as a married couple on Bespin a few years ago."

You swim over to the other side of the tank. "So you don't have to keep giving me the judgemental looks. It's all a part of the job."

"I wasn't-" he cuts himself off. "...I'm sorry if you felt I was passing judgement."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at what passes for an apology from him. "It's fine. But you should know, my relationship with him is purely professional."

"I wouldn't consider his tone with you completely professional."

That nearly makes you laugh out loud. If any other jedi master were speaking to you this condescendingly, you wouldn't tolerate it. But somehow, despite years of proving yourself capable, you know he can't let go entirely of his role as your master.

"That's just the way he's always been. He likes to flirt. If I asked him to stop, it would only get worse." You smile at his look of concern. "Don't worry, I've worked with bigger sleemos than him. I can handle myself."

He doesn't look convinced. "Well... if you ever need help dealing with him, you can come to me. You are a jedi knight, and he would do well to remember that."

You let your laugh finally escape. "Dealing with him? How would you approach that?"

His features smooth into slight indignance. "I have some experience handling unwanted advances. I understand it can be challenging at times, but it's easily managed with the right approach."

Your smile remains. "The way you 'manage' Ventress? Storne isn't the only shameless flirt I know well, Master."

He slides into full indignance now. "I... have no idea what you mean."

"Right," you reply, fixing the last of your electrodes into place. You're about to lower yourself beneath the bacta fluid when he speaks up again.

"I know it is not my place to remind you, but I would advise caution. After all, there is a difference between harmless flirting and comments that might imply something more... complicated."

You raise your brows at him one last time. "Then it's a good thing both you and I only engage in the former and not the latter, isn't it?"

You have to admit you enjoy his lack of ability to form a response before you slip under the surface of the bacta fluid, not giving him a chance to gather his words.

Sooner than you'd like, you're being awakened again, having arrived at last back to Oba Diah. You say your quick goodbyes to Storne, agreeing to meet in a few days once you've gathered whatever intel you can find on the Separatist presence. Storne gives you a location to start: a bar named Utchmo's. The bartender is witness to a steady flow of information and he'll sell to the highest bidder. You thank him again, and a few hours later, you and Obi Wan are walking into the bar with your new lead, new robes, and plenty of credits.

You lean toward his ear, pulling your hood up as you enter. "Your four o'clock. Black Sun."

His eyes remain steadily fixed on the bar, giving no sign of concern. "Will they recognize you?"

You give a small shake of your head. "No. I've never seen them before, but I've seen reports. There are two more at your twelve o'clock as well."

"It seems this is a popular location. At least we know the information should be rather current."

"If we can get it without being shot at, anyway," you whisper, mostly to yourself. "Let's make this quick."

"I couldn't agree more."

You approach the bar, seating yourself at table just next to it, not in full view of the rest of the room. Obi Wan sits on the same side of the table, obviously going for the same thing you are - a vantage point on the rest of the patrons with his back to the wall.

You wait for the bartender to come over to your side, then you stand up, leaning casually against the dirty edge of the bar to place your order. When the bartender turns his reptilian eyes on you and approaches, you sink into the embrace of the force and start to bend your will into his mind as quickly as you can. No sense in wasting time haggling over a price.

His eyes glaze over when he asks, "What'll it be?"

"I have very particular tastes," you tell him. "I like a story with my drink. Got any good drinking stories?"

You slide an obscene amount of credits across the bar, careful to cover your payment with your hand so only the bartender can see it. He looks up at you in surprise, then quickly drops his face back to a casual expression, clearly not wanting those around him to catch his enticement.

"I may. What're you drinking?"

"Well," you look up at the bottles behind him on the shelf. "That Serrenian brandy looks promising. You get any visitors from Serreno lately?" You lower your voice, adding, "...friends of the Count, perhaps?"

He looks around, then pulls in his bottom lip and nods curtly. "I think I've got just what you're looking for. I'll bring it out."

You nod in return, thanking him and keeping an indifferent air about you as you slide back into the bench at the table. Obi Wan tugs at the side of his hood, trying to keep his features as covered as possible.

"Any success?"

"I think so. We should be done here soon."

"That's good. It appears we've already attracted some attention. The sooner we can leave, the better."

You glance around casually, catching multiple pairs of eyes stealing occasional looks in your direction.

"I suppose they know we're not regulars," you say under your breath. Your legs tense beneath the table, body feeling like a taught spring, ready to release at any moment. You pull yourself deeper into the force, releasing your fear and managing to slightly relax your muscles.

The bartender appears a moment later, bringing two drinks to your table. He slides the first to Obi Wan, then gently sets one down in front of you, holding the base of the glass. He gives you a pointed look, then leaves.

Looking down, you can see a black mark at the bottom of the glass. You carefully tip the glass back, slipping your hand underneath and feeling the data chip there. You slide it down your sleeve, tucking it safely away, and lift up the drink to take a sip. It's tart and crisp, not nearly as bad as you were expecting. You actually wouldn't mind finishing it, if you weren't currently surrounded by potential murderers watching your every move.

Obi Wan takes a swig of his drink as well, throwing his head back and murmuring into the glass, "Shall we be on our way?"

You reach out through your connection to the force and tendrils of your consciousness spread throughout the room, bumping up against the minds of the enemy. You calm yourself, sending out a gentle suggestion that the drinks here are so delicious, they should be enjoyed at once.

All around you, members of the Black Sun Clan are bringing drinks to their mouths and downing them with fervor. Several patrons get up and walk to the bar, ready to place another order. You ease your control, releasing your tensed shoulders. You've bought some time.

You look over at Obi Wan, giving a tiny nod. You both stand, making your way to the exit past clientele who no longer look concerned with your movements. When you reach the door and step outside, however, the energy is quite different.

You're immediately caught in the sights of two hostile-looking pyke, approaching you from across the street. You curse under your breath. If the Black Sun members inside had suspected you, they've probably already reported your whereabouts. Anyone within their network is likely now on the lookout for jedi.

You try to pool your focus on the two pykes, instilling the idea that you're simply innocent bar patrons, on your way home from a quiet night. You notice their expressions becoming less intense, but they're still coming toward you, and as they do, two more nearby pykes join their ranks. You try to persuade them to place their hostility elsewhere and keep looking for jedi on another street, but it's no use. You were caught off guard and didn't catch them in time. Their curiosity brings them steadily closer.

"I can't redirect them," you say under your breath as you slowly turn to walk down the nearby alleyway. "Should we try to lose them?"

"Running would only bring more attention."

"Any other ideas, then?"

His pace quickens a bit as you enter the dark alley, less in the view of the crowds. "Not at the moment."

A thought occurs to you. If they're looking for jedi, you must convince them that you're not jedi. There's more than one way to do that.

"Pretend we're kissing."

You expect him to react in surprise, but he only turns his head toward you for a brief moment before he seems to take your meaning and slips his arm around the small of your back.

Now you're the one taken by surprise. His arm guides you to the wall beside you, and he closes the distance between you in one easy motion, pressing your back up against the rough duracrete. He's on you with a fluidity and grace that you've only seen him use previously in battle, and within seconds you find yourself swallowing nervously and staring into his eyes.

He brings his index finger to your chin and tilts your head upward. The unexpected touch makes your knees suddenly weaken and you sink into his body, using one hand to steady yourself against his arm, gripping his bicep through his robes. He leans closer, until the hoods covering your faces are touching and there's almost no light penetrating the gap. You breathe together in the dark, waiting for the sound of footsteps to approach.

An eternity seems to pass as he holds you like this, his finger grazing your skin, and slowly he pulls it away, now that your head is positioned where he wants it. Your eyelashes flutter when his touch leaves you, despite your attempts to stop any reaction. You can hear the sound of the pykes approaching. He rests one hand the wall above your head, and pulls the hand that was gripping your waist upward, twisting the fabric of your robe as he slides it over your back and drags you toward him, pressing his body hard against you.

"Rather-" you pause, stifling a gasp when he smooths his hand over your hip, then fists his fingers into your robe again and holds you there, rolling his body into yours. "Rather forward of you, General."

"Playing the part..." his leg presses between your thighs for just a moment before he seems to realize what he's doing and pulls back, "...to the best of my ability."

It's all you can do not to make a noise in response. Your arms wrap around his neck, his breath teasing your mouth as you try to keep your voice even enough to whisper without breaking. "I thought... thought you didn't flirt."

Despite your circumstances, he actually grins. Then he leans closer. He's so close now that his lips are brushing yours. Is it a kiss? It's so light that you can't be sure he's touching you at all. When he speaks against your mouth, you feel the warmth of his smile.

"All a part of the job."

You want to close your mouth over him, to pull him in until he's kissing you properly, deeply, completely. But instead you just keep breathing shakily against him, leaning into his solid frame and waiting for the minutes to pass.

You feel drunk on him, head swimming, and legs starting to go numb...

Wait, numb? A moment ago they felt weak. Now they feel like they may give out.

You straighten your back against the wall, trying to steady yourself, and slip. Obi Wan's arms catch you, holding you up. He whispers your name, an edge of concern in his voice. You barely hear him.

The pykes are getting closer, and at the same time, everything feels further away with each passing second. The alley is narrowing, blackness closing in on you.

When you bring your gaze back to Obi Wan, you notice his eyes are unfocused, not looking at you. Not looking at anything in particular. His hands go limp at your sides, and the last thing you remember before the blackness envelops your mind is how perfect his mouth still looks, even when he's using it to call out to you, desperately trying to keep you from losing consciousness.

Masterlist // Next Chapter >>

#obi wan fanfiction #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #obi wan #obiwan #fanfiction #fanfic

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legobiwan · 2 years

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i think so much about how painfully annoying (and devastating) of a duelist obi-wan would be be if he learned makashi and subsequently created a makashi-soresu fusion. we've already seen how hard maul and savage were struggling against his jar'kai/ataru/soresu mix, so obi is clearly great at connecting elements from multiple forms into a coherent and elaborate moveset even while under pressure (that whole fight is so good ugh).

imo obi-wan's soresu opening stance really lends itself so well to makashi. like, in the context of soresu, that stance is more of a high guard for defense, but it could also be a great base for some makashi lunges (in fact, dooku does a little two-finger-point and stab in that amazing fight on oba diah that reminded me a lot of obi-wan's opener)

that hyper-efficient offense/defense combo, especially in obi-wan's hands, would be incredibly powerful (and SO tedious for anyone to deal with). i'm not sure what dooku thinks of soresu in general but i feel like seeing obi-wan use both forms together would make him fairly proud lmao

Oh, I love this, anon.

What always strikes me about Makashi (especially in Dooku's hands) is how powerful it is in its concision. You rarely see Dooku flipping around (although he does in that fight on Oba Diah which consistently remains in my top 5 on-screen duels of all time), nor engaging in a lot of broad, powerful strokes. I mean, half the time, he's dueling with one hand behind his back and still winning. It's damn impressive.

Like Soresu, Makashi has this element of wearing down your opponent, which I think makes them a great marriage of styles, in that it could balance Soresu's more defensive emphasis with Makashi's more offensive one. I mean, let's not forget just how effective Dooku is as a duelist - he rarely loses and when he finally does, to Anakin, it's a matter of brute strength and Dooku's misplaced arrogance that finally is his death knell (although, here's an interesting idea - you have to wonder with Palpy sitting there the entire time on the Invisible Hand if he wasn't giving a little juice to Anakin on the sly just to be certain Dooku failed).

So yeah, if Dooku's Makashi-centered melange of styles served him well, I have no doubt an Obi-wan more trained in Makashi would be a delightful dueling menace and that Dooku would love to both witness and be the one to train and elevate.

In fact, there's a story I'm working on that gets into this a little bit...

#hello there #ask legobiwan #obi wan kenobi #count dooku #dueling forms #i'm on vacation and it's cold and rainy outside so i'm answering some asks and working on fic instead of touristing

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half-truths-and-hyperbole-louk · 7 months

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Louk's Bad Batch rewatch part 9 batchersss

Let's do it 🤟

The Bad Batch 1x05

"I get my own comm device?" she's so excited and it's so big on her lil arm 🥺🤲

Wrecker working out with Gonky

Echo: "the jedi trusted him" Tech: "the jedi who are all dead" bro 💀 I mean he has a point but still

dad batch telling Omega her comm isn't a toy...

*2 seconds later* Omega sneaking off to use her comm as a toy 😂

Echo and Hunter mom and dad going through the rules with Omega

(fun fact my mum knows their rules because I say them to her lmao)

Tech's reaction to seeing Cid's place is literally "charming 👀" oml he's roasting her before he even meets her I love him sm

the two guys Ahsoka set free !!! on Oba diah !!!

Hunter: 'who is Cid?' Echo: 'I literally have no idea' 💀

Tech: "that would've been information to share earlier" brooo his sass level as at an all time high this ep 👑

TURN AROUND RN BOYS ITS NOT WORTH IT

Omega is so smart fr 💕

Echo mom grabbing Omega's hand before she touches the sharp thingy

CID WHY TF DO YOU HAVE CLONE HELMETS IN YOUR STUPID LITTLE OFFICE LIKE THEYRE DECORATIONS

I don't hate a lot of star wars characters, but Cid is definitely one of them now ngl

DONT DO IT BOYS IT'S A TRAP

Wrecker and Omega high five 💕💕💕💕

Cid called Wrecker "it" I'm- 😡

Wreckers headaches are getting worse 🥲🙃

I know someone has spoken about this before but I just cannot get over the way Omega hugs her little clone doll when she finds out some people are sold and treated like property 😭💔 it's like poetry but not the nice kind

Omega: "poor Muchi she looks scared" 🤲

another fun fact my dad says this all the time hehe oops (no my parents have not seen tbb)

oop Hunter dad told Omega to stay on the ship

shhh they're sneaking 🤫

I MISS THEM SO BAD THEYRE DOING MISSION THINGS LIKE "Echo, sitrep" idk it just feels so tcw I'm emotional 🥲

Wrecker hits his head count: 5

Hunter and Tech got the zappy net oop

Omega: "now she's a bad batcher" screaming, crying, kicking my feet, throwing myself across the room

Omega always calls for Hunter first 🥺

STOP ZAPPING OUR BOYS 😡

Wrecker trying to comfort the lil green baby 🥲

Tech's dramatic sigh count: 583

Omega has the brain cell this ep fr

THE TALKING WITHOUT WORDS GETS ME EVERY FREAKING TIME I SWEAR

ew get ur crusty feral slaver ass outta here, skug

lmao Echo shouting to Omega like 'we are unarmed pls arm us' 😂

WAIT I saw someone posting about this, if anyone knows what I'm talking about pls tag the op or something please !! but they were talking about how Echo seems so willing to work with Omega in the field, like he trusts her despite her being a child, possibly because he'd worked alongside Ahsoka as a child, like for him it's normal to work with a child soldier. so while the rest of the batch are like ??? how to talk to babies ??? Echo is giving her battlefield instructions and gives her a bit more 'freedom' (for lack of a better word) in the field

lmao Wrecker's way of distracting the guards is to take out some guy's ankles 💀

"I wasn't sneaking... I was unlocking" YESSSS OMEGAAAA 🥰💕👑🙌

screwdriver hand go brrr

Echo: "the rancor is Muchi???" 🤨🙃 poor baby just needs a nap fr

okay but Hunter just throws Echo's pack at him from like 10ft away 💀 then Wrecker immediately throws him his helmet 👀 yes I watched it multiple times 🤫

Echo again !! he straight up volunteers to take Omega with him 💕

Tech is an ipad kid

OMEGA GRABBING THE LITTLE GREEN BABY'S HAND 🥺

get them Muchi !! tear those slavers apart !!! (insert evil Nimona face)

Wrecker's big nod to slide his helmet over his face properly teehee

Wrecker hits his head count: 6

Hunter grabbing the whip. Hunter grabbing the whip. Hunter grabbing the whip. Hunter grabbing the-

do not ask me how many times I've watched this scene... just don't

but the answer is yes

anyway back to being normal lmao

Omega finding her laser bow 🙌 !!! + Echo mom calling aftet her lololol

Muchi thrashed that slaver pet fr

Wrecker: 'challenge accepted' *fights rancor*

Bib Fortuna and the guards for the ot vibes 🥰

Omega riding Muchi !!! very Fett of her hehe

"I'm good with secrets" yeah and I'm good at going to bed before 3am 🙄 pfft good with secrets my ass Ciddarin 😠

tysm for joining again friends 💕 I actually meant to post this yesterday but I fell asleep oopsie

but I'm running out of time lolol so I'm gonna have to watch a few eps a day now !!

who else is terrified for s3 👀

It's almost 3am and these are the only 2 pics I can find from this ep 🥲 feel free to reblog and add more 💕

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charmwasjess · 6 months

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So Sifo-Dyas is killed on the moon of Oba Diah? And I'm just realizing the name Oba Diah is probably a reference to the prophet Obadiah from the Bible? Who famously hid a hundred prophets in caves to save them after Jezebel ordered their deaths?

You will never convince me that the Clone Wars Sifo-Dyas arc wasn't originally supposed to have him kept alive in the cave on the Sith planet, and they just recycled the images/scenario for Yoda's visions of that alternative.

It just makes everything, all the inconsistencies in the entire Sifo-Dyas murder/coverup plot actually make sense.

#yes I'm back on my torture cave theory again #Purple Ant's Pray My Mind Be Good to Me fic is a phenomenal exploration of this alternative by the way #the clone wars #sifo dyas

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graylinesspam · 1 year

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Ahsoka had always felt Anakin's attention somewhat like a spotlight. He couldn't help it. With as high a Midaclorian count as he had, everything he did through the force was loud. Obi-wan told her it hadn't been as obvious before he started his training.

Back when Anakin was a child all he did was read the force. He never touched it, manipulated it, he just listened. And that constant flow of force into him made him very quiet and nearly invisible in the force.

But the moment he learned to reach out. To push his will into the force. It was like the vibrating ring of a gong. So much louder than the tickling bells of the other younglings.

Now that he was a full-fledged knight Anakin was a constant cacophony within the force. He sent ripples throughout the force like a transhandoan makes water ripple when they bellow.

Since they've cultivated a training bond Ahsoka has always been able to tell when Anakin turns his attention to her through the force. Waves washing over her almost palpable enough that she can feel them on her skin.

At first she was overwhelmed, distracted by the constant onslaught of Anakin. But as they grew together Ahsoka found her footing like a fisherman grows used to the rocking of his ship.

Now when Ahsoka feels the waves cresting over her she reaches for the threads of their bond and tugs back playfully. Reassuring her master that even when out of his sight, she is fine.

Across a battlefield, across the ship, or even on different deployments. Anakin always turns his attention on her occasionally. Feeling her out.

It's tremendously helpful in cases where she needs his help. More than once Ahsoka has yanked on the bond demanding Anakin attention. His powerful gaze turning to read her stress and her panic before she's even tried to project it to him. His alarm quickly flowing back to her in a way that lets her know he's already coming for her.

That was before she'd run away from him. Hiding amongst the levels of Coruscant with that spotlight following her every move was nerve-racking. Anakin was impossible to lose. Impossible to disappear from. The weight of his attention pushing harder against her. Trying to pin her to the ground.

And then after.....after she left.

It was a long time before she felt him turn her way again. He'd never severed the bond. But he never touched it either. He sat with his back to it like a toddler throwing a fit. Ignoring her existence.

Feeling his gaze sweep over her again. Even momentarily sent a shiver through her. She'd almost forgotten just how intense it was.

On the ship, in front of the Martez sisters, she could pass it off. Ignoring his attention as it quickly slipped back away from her. Longing and sadness dragging over her.

But then again, days later. In a cell for the third force-forsaken time, still imprisoned on Oba Diah, frustrated and tired and feeling helpless on her own, she feels him again.

The full weight of Anakin feeling her through the force. His attention starts selfishly. Focused on his own loneliness shoving itself punishingly into her mind. Then as she staggers against the bars momentarily receiving a shock from the plasma shield, his feelings turn to alarm.

Anakin is very familiar with the feeling of a plasma shield. He feels the shock it's self through her tired system and his own emotions recede from her mind as his guardian instincts kick in.

Ahsoka winces as he fully grasps their bond yanking on the line as he examines it. She can practically hear his voice echoing in her mind "Where are you" though the actual feeling is more like a demanding shot of alarm.

As alarmed as he is he is impossible to shrug off. But his constant attention actually gives Ahsoka an idea. If Anakin was imprisoned in the base of the pike syndicate at the center of the spice trade, how would he bust out?

It's with Anakin, quite literally, in mind that leads Ahsoka to the pike's armory and then their spice refining plant. It was rather stupid of them to store explosive charges in the same building as raw and unstable spice.

When Ahsoka blasts her way out she doesn't have a chance to contact anyone for some time. The mandalorians approach her on her way off planet. They offer her a ride. After Ahsoka and Bo have it out, she's busy for days learning about the struggles of Mandalore and the unfortunate fate of the Duchess.

Ahsoka manages to shove Anakin's attention away with a reassuring surge of relief. An all-clear signal she'd used plenty during combat. He reluctantly backs off. But never quite turns away from her again. Occasionally tugging the line to bother her.

When the night owls finally secure her an untraceable comm line Ahsoka intends to call him. To explain herself and reassure him she's fine. The mission debrief is already scripted, on the tip of her tongue. But she isn't a soldier anymore. And Anakin doesn't need to know about her every move now.

She sends a recorded message to Cody instead. She's not sure why him specifically, except that she knows Cody will use the intel properly and he won't go out of his way to try to contact her directly.

Her report is short and to the point. She was held on Oba Diah for three days, she blew up one of the major refineries and the Pikes seemed interested in capturing her as a jedi. They eluded to some conspiracy they were plotting against the jedi. Or at least specifically counted the jedi as an enemy.

She shared no personal details or those of the sisters she'd been traveling with.

When Cody received the recording he brought it first to Rex. Unsure of how exactly this information should be presented to the Generals. Or why Ahsoka would send it to him off all people.

"It'll cause a bacta shortage." Rex says, his eyes so glassy they reflect a perfect image of the screen.

"We have to inform the medics right away."

No one knows how the jedi will respond. They're all liable to explode when they hear the news. So the commanders do the only sane thing and schedule a council-wide holocall, one Skywalker is invited to as well.

When Cody plays the message for them the room is so silent you could hear a pin drop.

Until the moment Skywalker's blood vessels pop.

"What was she doing on Oba Diah??"

"Blowing up buildings clearly."

"How did she get there?"

"will this cause conflict with the Pikes?"

"it sounds like there's already conflict with the Pikes."

"She's still functioning as an agent outside of the military."

"I'm sure that's illegal."

Obi-wan sits with his head in his hands, his shoulder quaking with silent laughter. An edge of hysteria to his silent outburst.

As the council members bicker over the intel Anakin seizes the bond between him and his padawan and Yanks with punishing force. Determined to know what in the galaxy could possibly have motivated his Padawan to visit such a sketchy planet.

Annoyance screams back at him through the bond.

#star wars #ahsoka tano #clone wars #sw tcw #tcw #anakin skywalker #fanfic #501st #captain rex #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #Short fic

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vipier · 2 months

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∗ 35﹕ sender curls up against receiver in their sleep .

THEY’VE HAD TO STAY TERRIBLY QUIET TONIGHT TO AVOID GETTING CAUGHT, BUT THAT’S NOTHING NEW. it’s almost habitual now, tristan sneaking in through @k4ssa’s bedroom window, the two of them relying on the drone from the fan in the corner to drown their whispered conversations as they curled up facing each other on cassian’s bed. it’s a tradition as old as their friendship ; tris has been sneaking in and out of the andor household since he was only nine or ten, since before he and cass even properly spoke the same language. it had always been clear to them both that maarva was cautious of the sullen, sharp-eyed orphan boy. at the time, tris assumed it was just him, his unlikable demeanor, his reputation for petty and thoughtless theft even as a child. this many years later, he realizes it probably always had more to do with his foster father’s relative infamy as both dangerous and a snitch. not that it changes the outcome. he’s not welcome in the andor household, not really, particularly not since what happened to clem, a fact he’s happy to ignore every time cassian smuggles him into the kitchen while maarva’s working or into his room on nights like these.

the conversation long since tapered off, exhausted as cass clearly was. tristan only just returned earlier in the day from his most recent job with seneca, a two-week endeavor that took them to oba diah for negotiations with some of the spice running syndicates in the kessel system that needed some special services, so to speak. tristan isn’t ready to discuss the specifics of the job and cass hadn’t pushed further upon seeing the flicker in his eyes when asked about it. instead, he’d filled tris’s ears with mindless ferrix gossip for as long as he could, even though tris could tell the moment he arrived that his friend hadn’t slept properly for some time, probably at least since he left.

in fact, tonight might be the most cass has spoken since his return from mimban, and here, under cover of night, beside cass’s slumbering form, tristan won’t deny to himself his relief for it.

sleep has never come easily to either of them, but it’s been especially bad since clem’s death brought it all crashing down. everything about cass has been a little different in the intervening months since returning from war. tris suspects it’s the reason cass’s attempts to revive his relationship with bix had failed, though he’d never say it. ( frankly, tris won’t bring up that relationship himself regardless, because his own emotions surrounding it are simply too complicated to process. ) the effects took a toll on their own friendship, too, leaving them often unable to relate to one another the way they used to. they have always sometimes sat together in silence, but more often since cass’s return, it has been an uncertain silence, a desperate one, rather than the comfortable silences of their youth.

despite any issues, however, tris’s nighttime visits have again become more frequent. almost every night now, they rotate between the andors’ residence and the cot in the scrapped ship, keeping one another innocent company in sleep, sitting with one another on the occasions one of them woke gasping from vivid nightmares. this habit of theirs had admittedly tapered off slightly before cass’s arrest ; they’d grown a little older, and cassian was romancing bix, and tris, unsure how to handle both things or his own unexpected emotions about them, placed a little more distance between them. since mimban, what had once been nightmares have become night terrors. they never speak of them directly, but the episodes appear to be lessened and somewhat pacified by tristan’s very presence, even if it had been quite some time after his return before cass had allowed even the softest touch.

all their time on this planet, cassian has defended him relentlessly from rumors and assumption. while the town never truly accepted tris and the whispers certainly still occur, they’re rarely said in front of cass anymore. this is the way tris has found to defend him right back ; if he can stave away bad dreams of horrors of which his best friend cannot yet speak, it feels very much like a gesture returned. tris doubts things will ever be exactly the same again, the way they were before cass was taken away, but they are improving, and for now, that's all he can ask for.

cassian turns in his sleep, tucking his head against tristan’s shoulder and grasping a handful of his shirt in one hand, apparently drawn by the warmth of his companion. it certainly isn’t the first time, but it always makes tris forget to breathe for a moment. he’s only sixteen and his feelings confuse him, turn him in circles, leave him longing and angry and confused so often it’s maddening. they have never crossed that line, despite expressing friendly affection with one another for years, and these are the only moments tris has to indulge in the pathetic fantasy that they could someday.

then cass twitches in slumber, brow furrowing softly, as if in some distant distress. tristan’s fingers find his friend’s hair almost on instinct, smoothing it back, hushing him with a few whispered corellian phrases and at least one in kenari that he’d learned from cassian himself. only days before, those same fingers had closed around a man’s windpipe, draining the life from him like his mentor had taught him until the death rattle sounded and he felt his victim go limp in his grasp. it seems surreal that those same hands could so easily soothe the boy resting on his shoulder, his friend with a spirit as wild as his own.

he should leave. he knows he should. cassian would expect him to, if only to avoid being caught in the morning. but cass quiets into tristan’s attentions and curls further against his warmth, his hair rumpled against his forehead, and tris knows then that he’s not going anywhere until morning. he is not a boy who ever learned to be tender, but rather a boy who cut his teeth early on the art of survival. such softness does not come naturally to him, or perhaps if it did, any potential to utilize such a skill has been suffocated out of him by the brutality of his youth.

any tenderness of which he remains somehow capable, he has jealously locked away in an untouchable vault within him. at some point, he had handed the key to cassian alone. he still does not know if he did so purposefully or entirely accidentally, but either way, he finds he does not regret it. if anyone is entitled to see anything of tris that he hides from the world, it is the one person in this galaxy who understands him fully and still sees value in him. for a few moments, he gazes at cass’s face, peaceful now as he slumbers against tris’s shoulder. as time ticks away, he finds himself satisfied that cass has calmed, that he feels safe, and when he closes his eyes and begins to drift to slumber himself, it is with the bridge of his nose tucked against the crown of his best friend’s head.

#k4ssa #contract accepted. ( responses )#i knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired and you’d be standing in my front porch light. ( prewar ferrix arc )#i vowed not to fight anymore if we survived the great war. ( star wars arc i )#i probably could have cut this down by half bc so much of it is rambling but also NO #my GOD i cannot believe they were just LIKE THIS before they decided to make it messy by sleeping together i'll scream

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dystopicjumpsuit · 4 months

Text

OC Sunday: Mic Dhorhil, the grumpiest bartender on Coruscant

A jaded Devaronian bartender with a complicated relationship to the Pyke syndicate. He absolutely judges your drink order. Don’t be fooled by his sardonic and guarded exterior: he might keep a slugthrower behind the bar (just in case), but he feeds the stray tooka who lives in the alley behind 79’s every night after he closes.

The face of a man who just had to clean up the used condoms from the floor of the refreshers at 79's. He is begging people, for the love of the Force, to use the trash compactor. Art by me 🩵

More info below the cut! Content warning for non-descriptive violence.

Overview

Name: Mic Dhorhil (pronounced Mick like Jagger, not like two turntables and a microphone) Birth year/age: 51 BBY (32 at end of the Clone Wars) Species: Devaronian Pronouns: he/him Orientation: bi/pan Home planet: Oba Diah Current location: Coruscant Occupation: grumpiest bartender on Coruscant; babysitter of one (1) pain in the ass Zabrak who is definitely old enough to know better Affiliation: 79’s bar Alignment: chaotic neutral Family: Branna Dhorhil (mother), Mhorig Durand (father, estranged), Oisin and Draig (family of the heart)

Physical characteristics

Height: 6’4”/193cm without the horns Eyes: amber Hair: bald Skin: green Tattoos/piercings/identifying marks: facial and ear piercings (and one more—can you guess?); tattoos on arms, back, and chest; significant scarring on face and body

Personal history:

Mic was born and raised on Oba Diah, the son of single mom Branna Dhorhil. He never met his father, and Branna never talked about him. When Mic started secondary school, he met Draig, the young Zabrak who would become his lifelong best friend. Draig was small for his age, and he had lost his mother very suddenly only a few months before. Because of this, an older bully made the mistake of thinking he would be an easy target. Unfortunately for the bully, Mic was not small for his age. He stepped in and kicked the bully’s ass, with the result that both Mic and Draig were suspended.

Draig was distraught at the prospect of having to tell his father, Oisin, what had happened, when Oisin was already dealing with so much following the death of his wife. Branna was working the night shift at the time, so she was home. She recognized Draig immediately, as she worked with Oisin at the Oba Diah spaceport. She patched up the boys and got them a snack, then commed Oisin to explain what had happened. Oisin came to collect Draig, and they both stayed for dinner.

From that point on, the boys were inseparable, and the Dhorhil house was basically Draig’s second home. They formed a short-lived punk band, The Horny Devils, which played shows in Oisin’s garage once a week for their legions of adoring fan (it was Branna. Branna was their legions of adoring fan).

When Mic and Draig were in their second year of secondary school, Oisin collapsed at work. He was diagnosed with an aggressive illness, and the treatment was prohibitively expensive due to the Pyke syndicate’s monopoly on all medical goods and supplies on Oba Diah. The boys, being enterprising teens with endless self-confidence and very little impulse control, hatched a plan to break into the Pyke compound and steal the medication.

It did not go well.

They made it out, barely. They managed to get the medication and take it to Oisin, but unfortunately, they also got caught on security holovids. The Pykes, being the Pykes, didn’t take too kindly to being robbed by a couple of punk kids, and they put a bounty on both boys. The first hunter that found them cornered them in the Dhorhils’ home. Draig lost an eye to the hunter’s vibroblade before Branna managed to disarm and kill the bounty hunter with his own knife.

They fled Oba Diah that night. Branna smuggled Oisin and the boys into the Oba Diah spaceport and stole a shuttle, then took them all to Coruscant to disappear and start over in the lower levels. Branna never told Oisin or the boys what she did to smooth things over with the Pykes, but eventually, the bounty was lifted. Nevertheless, Mic and Draig continued to give the Pykes a wide berth.

Mic started working as a busboy to help Branna while they struggled financially. Eventually, he worked his way up to become a bartender, crafting cocktails in some of the hottest bars in the upper levels. He dreamed of starting his own traditional Devaronian pub, and to help save money for that goal, he started working the closing shift at 79’s every night after he finished up at his regular job. Eventually, he scraped together the funds to start his own place in the Entertainment District, but he continued to work the closing shift at 79’s to make ends meet.

Personality:

In the dictionary, next to the definition of “done,” you will find the above holo of Mic. That being said, he has a spectacularly long fuse. He doesn’t tolerate harassment or bullies, and the fastest way to find out what he looks like when he’s annoyed is to fuck with his customers, coworkers, or family (and he includes Oisin and Draig in that category). He’s reserved and quiet, but he has a wicked sense of humor, if you’re lucky enough to be able to overhear his commentary.

He has Opinions™ about certain drinks, and he might not say them out loud, but you can feel the judgment if you come in and order a Green Zygerrian (like he just keeps green cream on hand, what the kriff do you think this is, a dairy?).

Aside from his family, Mic tends to hold people at a distance. It takes a long time to gain his trust, and even longer for him to feel truly comfortable around someone. Having witnessed how his father’s absence impacted Branna, Mic is very, very guarded about romance. He needs to get to know someone very well and form a strong connection with them before he’ll consider getting physical. But once he’s in? He’s all in. No games, no messing around: he knows what he wants, and he’ll be very upfront about it. He just needs to be sure his prospective partner is on the same page before he lets himself get involved.

Due to his personal history with the crime syndicates (not to mention his family’s nebulous respect for the law), Mic has an innate distrust of authority in general and the police in particular. He keeps a low profile, but when the Corrie Guard comes to 79’s, he’s on full alert. Oddly enough, Commander Fox is one of his favorite customers. Maybe he feels a deep spiritual connection to the Marshal Commander’s exhausted ori’vod energy.

Taglist:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @merkitty49

@anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella

@cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @sunshinesdaydream

@littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @marierg @idontgetanysleep

@moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine

@multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam

@skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist

@cw80831 @kimiheartblade @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal

@reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @starstofillmydream @msmeredithrose

@totallyunidentified @eclec-tech @euphoriacafe @hipwell @yve-barr

@dangraccoon @transactivecybermemory @etod

#star wars oc #oc sunday #oc: mic dhorhil #star wars #the clone wars #dystopicjumpsuit draws #dystopicjumpsuit writes

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alltheirdamn · 8 months

Text

A Bounty for Reward (Mando x f!reader)

CHAPTER 7

Summary: Sometimes, the past comes back to haunt us. Warnings: so much fucking angst it HURTS, rough sex (bordering on hate sex??), edging, orgasm denial, jealous f!reader, language, mentions of past trauma, mentions of past SA Word Count: 6k A/N: Listen, I love a good, vulnerable moment. Mix it with some rough sex & a mad sprinkling of angst, and I am a happy girl.

Sorgan was the last place Mando wanted to be; he would rather be in any other place in the galaxy. He knew, though, that if they wished for quiet safety, this would need to be their home until Bo Katan was ready to attack Oba Diah.

Mando wanted to remain in the deeper parts of the forested planet, but he was reminded that the carbonite chamber was running on borrowed time. He had checked on the valve a few times during their flight, only to realize her brief solution of the problem wasn’t withstanding time. She had told him they needed to buy a new part, and he acquiesced, flying the Crest into the village that hid all his ghosts.

They hadn’t spoken much since Trask, leaving one another to their usual routine. Occasionally, Mando left the cockpit to check on her. She spent most of the travel either curled up in the bed or sorting through the tools around the hull. He had thought of a million different things to say to her, yet not a single thing managed its way out. Everything inside of him ached to be near her. He wanted to see the familiar furrow in her brow or hear the sharpness in her words. Even if she was angry, at least she was regarding him in some way. He would take anything she gave him because he was a desperate man, and she was slowly painting over every thought in his mind.

Mando’s throat constricted as he landed the Crest near the village, the outline of the huts coming into view. It had been nearly ten years since he stepped foot in this village—ten years since he saw her. Omera. The one woman who almost broke his loyalty to the Creed. Sorgan was once a sanctuary for him, but now it left an ashen taste on his tongue.

“Will the village have what we need?” She asked, breaking his train of thought.

They had been working shoulder-to-shoulder on the valve for an hour, more or less to distract Mando from making the decision to walk into town. She was a salve on the wound, slowly reopening under the armor he wore. If he could just focus on her…then it wouldn’t hurt as bad.

He couldn’t form any response other than a simple huff of breath, letting the silence between them linger longer. She worked with deft hands on the valve, twisting it until the panel lit up again. The system would last a bit longer, but Mando? He didn’t know how long he would last without breaking from the inside out.

“All good?”

She gave him a soft nudge, her hair disheveled from running her hands through it in frustration. It still shocked him every time she stared at him with those big doe eyes, as if nothing else around them existed. That wound inside him started bleeding slowly, now filling his chest with unchecked emotions. If he barely escaped those emotions last time, how would he do it now?

“I’m fine,” he said, but it came out harsher than he wanted.

She flinched at his tone, her brows furrowing together. A question was on her tongue, dangling between them, but she collected herself with resolve and brushed past him. Mando’s eyes trailed her movements, watching her grab her vest off the bed and wrench it over her shirt. Even in the dim lights, he could see her composure slipping. They had agreed on trusting one another, but trusting her with his pain was something he could not do.

Not yet.

“Did I do something?” She snapped. She secured her blade to her thigh before sulking towards him, going toe to toe with a wild look in her eyes. Maker, her rage was intoxicating in the best way.

“No,” he exhaled. “Let’s just go and get this over with.”

Mando left no room for her to respond, turning to the ramp to let it lower down. This was it. This was facing the past.

Each step through the damp soil was another sharp pain inside him, shooting through his chest and daggering into his heart. The clouds overhead must have shown up to complement the storm brewing in his chest because they loomed heavy and dark in the sky. As they neared the village, she wrapped her fingers around his bicep, forcing him to halt his slow steps.

“What’s wrong, Mando? Really?”

“Nothing,” he sighed.

Her fingers squeezed the muscles in his arm, her eyes searching for his beneath the helmet. Even though she couldn’t see it, he diverted his eyes away, looking anywhere but at her sad eyes.

“Do you trust me?” She echoed the words he had said to her days ago.

“Yes.” He was all too quick to answer.

“Then tell me why you’re so on edge.”

Was it that obvious? Or was she just that good at reading him?

“I just don’t—.” He drew in a heavy breath. “I just don’t like being here.”

She loosened her grip on his arm, shifting to turn back toward the village. Mando followed her like his bones were tethered to her gravity, letting her shift his world on its axle. So long as he was with her, he felt okay. He could keep the past at bay with her beside him. At least he hoped as much.

The village was just as he remembered it: docile and mundane. Children ran through the streets in herds, shrieking with laughter as they chased one another. Mando veered around them, their tiny legs shuffling around the heavy boots on his feet. A young girl knocked into his leg, squeaking an apology in the wind as she danced away.

“You’d think with all that shiny metal, they’d be able to see you,” she huffed a laugh.

Mando bit back a chuckle, that sour taste filling his mouth again as they neared the village’s mechanic shop. They were greeted by a middle-aged man and his wife, both mulling over a pile of credits on the counter. Mando’s footsteps sent both their gazes flying upwards with a startled gasp.

“Oh!” The woman plastered on a welcoming smile. “How can we help you?”

“Freezer valve,” Mando grunted. He couldn’t even form a coherent sentence while he stood in the village. Pathetic.

“We’re in need of a new freezer valve,” a small voice beside him explained.

The woman gave a weary glance back at Mando, then turned her attention back to the girl beside him.

“We’ve got a few in stock,” the woman said. “Come take a look and see what would work best.”

“You go look,” Mando nudged her. “I’ll be outside.”

“I’ll need credits,” she grumbled. “Bounty, remember?”

Mando dug into his pilot suit, dropping a handful into her open palm. With one last concerned look, she turned and followed the woman through the shop.

He couldn’t escape faster, finding himself wandering aimlessly through the village. The townspeople eyed him cautiously, some nodding a simple hello as he paced, others shrinking back into their hut. He wasn’t there on a mission like he had been last time, and most villagers probably didn’t even remember what he had done for their village or planet.

Slipping away into the village cantina, Mando sulked alone at the bar's edge. The bartender tried to hide his unease as he continued to clean glasses, and Mando shifted his body toward the door to try to relieve some of that tension. The last thing he wanted was to draw more attention to himself—well, any more than usual.

After a few minutes, she walked through the entrance, freezer valve in hand, dropping the remaining credits on the bartop without a word. Mando’s helmet tilted, inviting her to speak up. With a roll of her eyes, she leaned against the bar, tapping her fingers quickly against the bar.

“Ready to leave?” She prompted.

“Do you want a drink?” Mando countered.

She smirked, flicking her eyes toward the bartender. “That your way of thanking me, Mando?”

“Something like that.”

She waved her hand at the bartender, ordering a drink with a grin—one he never got enough of. Guilt crept in slowly, overtaking his already worsening mood. As she sipped the drink, now in her hands, Mando wondered if letting her go would be something he could do. Freedom was beckoning her, and who was he to deny her what she deserved?

He watched as her cheeks slowly flushed from the alcohol coursing through her veins, reminding him of the way her body bled in rich colors of pink and red when he was deep inside her. Drowning that nagging dread in his body with sex wouldn’t solve his problems, but maybe it would satiate it, even only for a short moment. His hand roamed up her thigh, settling at her waist. He noticed the tension tighten the muscles in her body, reminding him that just a simple touch could either debilitate her or ignite her. He hoped for the latter.

“Finish your drink,” he growled, leaning into the warmth of her body.

Her breath hitched, and she obediently downed the last of the liquor in the glass. Mando’s gaze caught onto the wetness of her lips, and he groaned internally at the thought of them wrapped around his cock.

They needed to leave. Now.

With a firm hand on her back, Mando guided her out of the cantina and back toward the Crest. She gave him a quick glance over her shoulder, the look of desire amplified by the drink no doubt clouding her mind. He flexed his hand on her back, urging her to move quicker through the village. But as they neared the edge of the village, Mando caught a glimpse of dark hair and tanned skin, completely paralyzing him in place. She was blissfully unaware of his inability to move, her legs moving twice the speed towards the Crest. He wanted to call out and tell her to stop, but not a single syllable left his lips.

Omera was crouched before a young girl, engaged in a soft conversation. As if she felt his presence, Omera turned her head, catching him a heavy stare. Mando couldn’t breathe. She stood slowly, her grey dress falling past her knees. The young girl beside her widened her eyes as she followed Omera’s direction of vision. Before he could escape, she walked toward him, her mouth set in a soft smile.

“You’re back,” Omera smiled.

Mando swallowed thickly, only responding with a simple nod.

“For how long?” She asked.

As he was about to answer, the young girl ran up and clung to the fabric of Omera’s dress. He noticed the similarities in their features, and something inside him died.

“This is Winta,” Omera spoke slowly, testing the waters. “My daughter.”

The wound inside him gushed open, bleeding out and seeping through the cracks of his armor. Mando reeled in any emotion that threatened his composure, his helmet glancing from Winta to Omera. He cleared his throat, saying hello in a hollow voice.

“I never thought you’d be back,” Omera said. Though her expression was soft, sadness was swimming in her dark eyes.

“I—” Mando stuttered over his words. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Her face fell, crestfallen.

“Another mission?”

“No.”

“Well, I hope you stay a while. I’ve missed you.”

Mando clenched his jaw, biting back words of anger. She missed him? She nearly broke him the last time he was here. The hole she had burrowed within him had threatened everything he had sworn to protect: his creed, his Clan, his loyalty. Now, she stood before him, shamelessly reminding him of the mistakes he almost made.

“I’ve never seen a Mandalorian before,” Winta marveled, stepping out of her mother’s shadow.

Omera crouched beside her, running soft fingers through the waves of brown hair that framed Winta’s face. Looking up at Mando, she gave him another soft smile enough to churn his stomach. What once was a smile he couldn’t stop dreaming of was now something he couldn’t bear to look at longer than a moment.

“He saved our village,” Omera explained. “Many, many years ago. Before you were born.”

“Wow!” Winta exclaimed, eyes growing into saucers.

“I’m sure he’d love to tell you about it,” Omera nuzzled her face into Winta’s shoulder, eliciting a small giggle from the young girl. “Why don’t you meet us for dinner, Mando?”

“Sorry,” Mando faltered. “I can’t.”

Mando couldn’t stand it any longer. He said a soft goodbye to Omera and Winta, rushing to the Crest. Each step away from Omera was another stab at his heart, too reminiscent of the last time he saw her, and the closer he got to the ship, the closer he was to falling apart. Once his foot hit the edge of the ramp, he was nearly running into the hull, quick to close out the world that suffocated him.

“Who was that?”

Mando whipped his head around to see that familiar figure looming in the shadows of the hull. She emerged slowly, her lips curled up in a scowl. Even drenched in darkness, he knew there was a fire lit behind her eyes.

“Don’t,” he warned.

“No,” she argued, stomping toward him. “Tell me.”

Mando growled her name, taking a step back. He didn’t trust himself not to come undone entirely if she pushed him any further. But he knew better; he knew she wouldn’t relent.

“If she’s someone special—” she spat the words, hardly getting them out before Mando shoved her against the metal wall.

“She’s not!” He raged.

“It didn’t fucking look like it!” She yelled, her face an inch away from his visor.

“Leave it. Now.” The slice of his words were deadly.

But he knew better.

She wouldn’t let it go.

“Should I go ask her myself?” She threatened, her chest brushing against his. He was on the cusp of snapping and dragging her down with him.

“Omera is none of your business.”

She looked at him incredulously, her lips turned up into a snarl. Mando caught onto her movements, catching her wrist before the blade hit his cowl-covered throat. She kept the edge steady against him, knuckles turning white on the handle.

“You want my business to be yours, but I can’t know a damn thing about yours?” Her voice rattled around the empty ship, bouncing off the walls and reverberating through his helmet.

She pressed the blade further into his cowl, despite his grip on her wrist, another threat dangling on her tongue.

Mando couldn’t stand it any longer. His other hand shot up, knocking the blade loose and letting it clatter onto the floor. Pinning her wrists against her chest, Mando pushed her further into the wall.

“I swear to the Maker,” Mando hissed.

“What’re you going to do, Mando?” She threatened.

All Mando wanted to do right now was fuck her until she couldn’t walk, fuck her until every memory of Omera was erased from his mind. Spinning her around, he pinned her to the wall, holding her wrists above her head. Her body writhed against his, not in protest but in need. She gave into his desperation, needing as much of this release as he did. If fucking out their anger made it better, then Mando would give in to that burning desire.

With one hand enclosing her wrists, Mando used the other to strip her pants down, barely letting them hit the top of her knees before he freed his cock and buried it inside her. Fuck, she was drenched and fluttering around him, crying out when he hit that sweet spot inside her. Mando drove into her harder, a cry erupting from her mouth, ragged and uninhibited. He was starved for those noises, spurring him on with each rough thrust into her. Her cunt clenched hard around his cock, and Mando wound an arm around her stomach to leverage his strength as he pistoned into her.

“Fuck!” She mewled, nails scraping at the wall under his grasp.

In this position, she could do nothing but surrender to his dominance, taking everything he gave her.

Mando was relentless with each snap of his hips, her whines echoing around them. He kept his pace aggressive until he could feel her body seize up with an oncoming orgasm. He was desperate for it, feeding into the way her body responded to him, and with a final deep thrust, she let out a wracked cry and squeezed around his cock tight.

“Get… off… me…” she panted through the shudders coursing through her body.

Mando felt her words like a punch to the stomach, his mind reeling with an onslaught of guilt. Had he hurt her? Was everything wrong with what he did?

But before he could even process the emotions swirling inside him, she yanked her pants back up her body and turned to him with a wild look in her eyes.

Dropping to her knees in front of him, she grabbed his cock and stared up at him with rage behind her eyes.

“What—?” Mando could barely form a word.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Her mouth wrapped around the head of his cock before he could object or reason with her, shooting shocks up through his nerves. The groan he let out was embarrassingly loud, but maker, her mouth felt so fucking good. She took him deeper, letting her tongue draw against the underside of cock. Her eyes never left his helmet, watching with rapt desire as she hollowed her cheeks.

Mando was right at the cusp of release, clenching his fists to refrain from grabbing her hair and fucking her throat. He could feel the muscles in his body coil up, his balls tightening for release… and she stopped.

She pulled his cock from her mouth, a string of saliva falling from it, and looked at him with the most intense expression.

“That is for lying to me,” she hissed. “I know she means something to you, Mando and your distrust in me isn’t fair.”

Her hand started to work him slowly, that oncoming urge to explode coursing through Mando at an alarming rate. Right at the cusp of it, she pulled her hand away, granting him a satisfied grin as she denied him for a second time.

Mando fisted her hair, forcing her neck to crane further back as he leaned his helmet close. The rage overpowered him, his vision turning red around the edges. She was so fucking wrong about everything. Omera wasn’t special. Not anymore, at least.

She was special.

“She means nothing to me. Not like you do.”

Mando’s voice was stern and uninviting to any more arguing. “You’re a pain in my ass, and I am so fucking addicted to you. I can’t—I can’t think straight around you.”

She licked her lips, a retort just a breath away, but Mando continued.

“How much more do I have to prove to you how special you are to me?” He was practically begging.

“Maybe be fucking honest.”

His fingers gripped at the hair at the base of her neck, and her face twisted up in pain.

“Honesty goes both ways, angel.”

“I’m not a fucking angel.”

“You are to me.”

Her mouth gaped open, finally at an impasse on what to say or do. Mando’s body was radiating with a deep, consuming need to claim her, to prove everything he said. He’d explain it all to her. He’d bear all his emotions to her so long as she understood the severity of her presence in his life. He still couldn’t understand why she meant this much to him, why he was allowing his heart to attach itself again to someone. She was nothing like Omera; she was strong and thick-skinned. She had been through hell and back, as much as he could imagine, and she reminded him so much of himself. He wanted to show her that the world could be kind and forgiving. That he could be that for her if she let him.

“Swear to me you’ll be honest,” she begged.

“On my life,” he breathed.

And her mouth was back on him, enraptured and desperate to make him cum. As much as he wanted to bathe in the luxury of the warmth of her mouth, he wouldn’t fucking last. It barely took thirty seconds, and he was coating her tongue with his release. Mando’s body slumped, the weight and tension slipping off his shoulders as he let the wave of his orgasm pass through and returned to the present with a clear mind.

Her fingers worked his cock back into his flight suit, zipping it up slowly and rocking back onto her heels.

Mando slid a crate behind him, slowly sitting, and studied her intently before speaking. Honesty. He could give her that.

“I was here on a mission ten years ago when I met Omera,” he began. “It hadn’t intended to be an extended stay, but the pirates that raided and attacked their village were brutal. I had someone from Nevarro helping me, but we two weren’t enough. Omera was kind enough to open her home to me, allowing me to stay and rest when I needed it. We grew… close. She was quiet amidst the chaos around here.

When the mission was done, I had plans to leave and return to Nevarro to continue hunting for the Guild. Despite how close we had gotten, I had no intentions of staying, but I promised her I would return when I could. After a few months, I did. I considered settling down and living an easier life with much less danger and killing. When I returned, she was with another man from the village.”

Her eyes softened as he talked, misted over with tears that went unshed.

“She broke your heart,” she sighed.

“She has a daughter now. I met her before I came back here to you.”

She reached out to hold his hand, squeezing her fingers around his. “I’m so sorry, Mando.”

“I swore I would never get attached again. I was so close to abandoning my Creed.”

“Why would you come here if you knew what was waiting?”

Mando raised his free hand to cup her face, smoothing lines over her cheekbone.

“Your safety matters more than the past,” he said.

The tears streamed freely over her cheeks, dampening his gloves and turning her eyes red under the dim lights. Seeing her hurt for him unraveled a new string of emotions winding around that gaping wound inside him.

“What did she say back there to you?” She asked, sniffling.

“She invited me to join her and her daughter for dinner,” Mando noted, not telling her that Omera had said she missed him.

“Is that something you want?” She could barely get the words out.

Mando knew the situation wasn’t settling well with her and that the thought of him with Omera might be something she opposed. Truthfully, he didn’t want to see Omera. Today exhausted him despite the lack of hunting or chaos, and his entire body ached with fatigue and simmering frustration. He didn’t know how to act around Omera or how to face her.

“No.”

“You could get the closure you need,” she insisted.

She was trying to be understanding and attentive to Mando’s feelings. He didn’t deserve her.

“I’ll think about it.”

She nodded, gingerly moving to stand. Mando noted the way her thighs quaked still, the ripple of her muscles apparent under her pants. He had been so rough with her, taking what he wanted without a second thought. But she had taken what she wanted just as quickly. There was a symmetry between them, a stark reminder that their pasts had jaded who they had become. Maybe she could do the same if he could open up in this way with her. He could help her navigate her past and tear through the walls she built.

“You fucked the shit outta me, Mando,” she chuckled, a slight change in her gait as she walked towards the refresher. “Gonna feel you for days.”

Fuck. Mando had to focus on not getting hard again, but the thought of her body aching from him had his cock straining against his pants. Even after such a moment of vulnerability, she found a way to lighten the mood and change the course of their conversation. He was more than grateful for it. He welcomed the distraction.

The refresher door slid close behind her, a trail of silence left in its wake. Mando’s helmet fell into his hands as he drew in a ragged breath. He swore he would never get attached again, but it was proving to be so much harder this time around.

You had spent far longer than intended in the refresher, slumped against the tiles as the water poured over you. You weren’t angry at Mando, not anymore, at least. When you saw him with Omera, something fractured inside you, splintering into a million pieces. You couldn’t explain it. Mando wasn’t yours; no clear lines were drawn in the sand to prove he was. He was caring for you, keeping you safe, occasionally fucking you senseless. You were trying so hard not to attach yourself and focus on the freedom and future you had so desperately worked for. You stole for your freedom, risking your life until you made it on that passage to Coruscant. Nothing was going to stand in the way of going back. Yet, Mando always found a way to invade your thoughts and crush those hopes. You had found a comfortable place beside him the last few weeks, settling into a rhythm that made sense. There was silence. There was understanding. There was protection.

How could you leave it?

Mando’s honesty and vulnerability shocked you. You had asked for the truth, and he gave it tenfold. You ached for the person he had been ten years ago and the heartbreak he had endured. You had been involved with someone in your teen years back in Mos Eisley, Tylo. He was an apprentice to your father, always lurking around the junkyard, stealing glances at you and making small talk. Within a standard year, you both became infatuated with each other, sneaking away into the desert at night and fucking until the suns peaked over the dunes. But he left. Like everyone did. He had made enough money from your father to buy passage to Coruscant and never returned. Maybe that’s why you chose the planet when you ran away, hoping to rekindle that connection. But you never sought him out. You were broken beyond comparison, and the thought of letting someone close to you again filled you with so much fear.

Everyone you loved had died or left you.

You’d be damned if you let that happen again.

If Mando were the binary suns, you were the sand in the dunes burning in his wake.

No matter how desperately you clung to his every move and word, you couldn't allow it.

It took you some time before you left the refresher, piecing yourself back together on tender legs. You shoved down the emotions curling in your stomach, swallowing the words you wanted to share. You wanted to come clean to Mando and tell him everything. He deserved as much. But that meant you’d have to let the ghosts of your past wander through your mind, and you weren’t strong enough to fight them off. Not even Mando could fight them off. It was a battle you had to endure alone.

Returning to the cargo hold, you found it empty. Mando had laid your knife on the bed beside a folded blanket, and you wrapped yourself in its warmth. You climbed up to the cockpit on shaky legs, finding Mando hunched over the nav panel with twisted wires between his hands. Whenever things were strained at home, you turned to fixing things. Mando wasn’t much different.

“Need help?” You piped up, making your way to the passenger seat beside him.

With the blanket still folded around you, you analyzed the spectacle in front of Mando, seeing a slew of problems in his wiring. He had a toolbox propped up on the flight panel, a litter of tools scattered around him. His helmet turned to the side to acknowledge you, only for him to resume the task without a word.

“I used to do this, too,” you admitted. “Back home in the junkyard. Whenever we had run-ins with bad traders, or if it was just a bad day, I would tear apart speeders just to put them back together again.”

“Did it help?” He asked as deft fingers untangled two wires.

You settled into the seat, watching as the sun faded behind the tall trees of the planet.

“Sometimes. Is it helping you?”

Mando laid down his tools, reclining in the seat to enjoy the view with you. You tilted your head towards him, watching the colors of the sunset reflect off his armor. Maker, you wished you could see what he looked like underneath. There was no doubt in your mind he was beautiful, rugged as his exterior, and seemingly soft. It was the first time the thought even drifted through your mind. You hadn’t dwelled on the idea of the man beneath the layers, but the more of himself that he gave to you, the greedier you became. You wanted more, and you knew it was wrong.

“I don’t think I’ll meet Omera for dinner,” he said, startling you from your thoughts. “She’s moved on now. She has a daughter. There’s no sense in digging up the past when she’s already moved forward with her life.”

“Are you sure?”

His helmet rolled toward you, trapping you in a silent stare that you were becoming all too familiar with. Once, it had scared you, but now you craved the faceless stare of the person you had grown accustomed to. You enjoyed that he regarded you even in the simplest ways.

“I’d rather be here,” he exhaled. “Once I put the nav back together, I’ll fly us somewhere more secluded. I can train you some more if you’d like.”

“With weapons?” You teased, a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“With weapons,” he agreed.

You hummed quietly to yourself, your eyes fading shut as you listened to the sounds of the ships around you. Faintly, you could hear Mando resume his work on the panel, though his movements were quiet enough not to disturb you. You welcomed sleep and let your mind drift away.

Hands were all over you, touching your skin in colors of black and blue. Every one of your senses was muffled, your eyes refusing to open, your ears deaf to any sound. Someone was pinning down your body with a heaviness so great your bones felt like they could crack. Not even your hands functioned to fight back. They were on you, all over you, inside you. Something wet pressed against your mouth, feeding poison into your body until you went numb. Nothing felt real, yet everything was so consuming you had no choice but to give in to the reality that you were trapped within.

This was your life.

This is what you deserve.

Because you failed. You failed your parents. You failed yourself.

You opened your mouth to scream, to cry, to say anything, but you were paralyzed in an endless cycle of abuse. No one cared. You heard nothing yet felt that heaviness above you quake with laughter. You knew it was laughter in the way they shook, the way their body rattled against yours. But you were so tired. You had no fight left to give.

All you could do was lay immobilized and stripped apart for everyone to use.

“Angel.”

The word traveled through the stream of memories, slicing into them like a blade through a tree. Each syllable came down with a heavy force, knocking down the barriers of that paralysis that entrapped you. It took an exhausting effort to crack open your eyes and settle on the outline of Mando leaning over you.

“I’m—I’m okay,” you choked, the rush of air to your lungs happening all too quickly.

Your muscles contracted and flexed inside your arms and legs, and you unraveled yourself from the cocoon you had burrowed into against the seat. It happened again. The nightmares had crippled you beyond amends, leaving you vulnerable and raw as you fully regained consciousness.

Mando’s hand reached to touch you, but instinct forced your body to flinch away. He retracted it just as fast, letting it close into a fist at his side. Through bleary eyes, you tried to hold onto the grasp of reality and remind yourself where you were.

You were in the Crest, with Mando, on Sorgan.

You were safe.

“How bad?” You winced. How bad was it this time?

“I couldn’t get you to wake up.” His voice was agonized. “Scared the fucking shit outta me.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, squeezing the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

The day had seemingly disappeared behind the curtain of nightfall, his silhouette cloaked in a spattering of stars that twinkled in the windshield. Mando was here. You were safe.

“You were screaming,” Mando explained.

“It happens sometimes,” you whispered. You swallowed a lump in your throat, trying to force those memories behind a metal door in your mind. Why was it when you were at your most vulnerable that they escaped and ran wild?

“Talk to me,” he begged. “Help me understand.”

You shook your head, too afraid of what would happen if you did tell him. You couldn’t control the memories that tortured you when you slept; how would being awake be any different?

“I can’t,” you said, the tears welling up again.

Maker, you cried so much lately. You weren’t as tough as you used to be.

“Whatever happened to you, whatever Kesi has done… I swear to the Maker that he will suffer in his death,” Mando promised. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

You stifled the sob, begging to escape, choosing to instead fall into his weight and wrap your arms around his torso. He pulled you tight against his body, his hands rubbing your back slowly. Just being in his embrace made the pain inside you subside; it waned back into the corner of your mind you kept it hidden within.

“I just want to be free, Mando,” you whimpered. “From all of it.”

“I know, angel,” he crooned into your ear. “I promise to give you that.”

Against his chest, you let the cries erupt from you, saturating his armor and wetting your cheeks. You don’t know how long he held you, but as the crying subsided, you couldn’t find the strength to pull away. Mando guided you to your feet, walking you down the ladder as you leaned your weight into him. As if you weighed nothing, he lifted you into his arms, cradling your neck on one arm while the other stabilized your legs. Lying you onto the bed, Mando took a moment to let you curl into a ball, watching silently as you pulled the blanket above your head. The cot beneath you dipped, and only then did you realize he was joining you. It was a tight squeeze for both of you, especially with him fully armored, but you basked in the warmth of his body as it wrapped around you.

You fought off the urge to sleep, too scared to revisit the past that awaited you behind tired eyes. Instead, you focused on the rise and fall of his chest, listening to the hum of the cargo hold as it floated through the silence. Mando didn’t speak but didn’t have to—he was there.

And that proved to be enough.

#mando x reader #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando #fluff and angst #so much fucking angst it HURTS

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