#Quest for the Dream Blaster

[worldsofzzt]

Source “Quest for the Dream Blaster” by Unknown (1993) [DREAMBLS.ZZT] - “Death” Play This World Online

[come-down-that-tree]

Prologue Previous

/!\ ALL ALARMS BLAZING, THIS CHAPTER WILL BE VIOLENT, BE AWARE OF THAT

Warnings in the tags to not spoil

Come Down That Tree! (An aftermare story)

Chapter 22: Does it really matter how many times we fall down if we can count on someone to help us up?

A horrible feeling was swirling inside him as Geno hurried to the village. What if something happened again? What if he hadn’t arrived in time last time?

What if he didn’t arrive this time ?

If something happened, it could be nothing, his mind supplied to him as a way to quench his anxiety.

It wasn’t as successful as he would have liked…

Because what if something did happen ?!!

The first houses came into view and he didn’t slow down one bit, cursing the fact he didn’t know the place enough to blip around easily. It would have cut down time. And he doubted he’d find Nightmare in the same small alley as last time.

Running through the dark was hard and he kept tripping over unidentified stuff, rubbish probably.

Geno hesitated for a second, weighing the pros and cons of summoning a blaster to act as a light. Slightly overkill but, again, what if something happened ?

A hand touched his shoulder on his blind side and he twirled violently, ready to stab whoever it was with a sharp tipped fast-summoned bone in his hand.

Yellow.

Dream.

"Sorry for the scare, follow me, I know around."

No jump, no startled shout, the guardian stayed unmoved and started walking, quickly fading back into the night.

Geno lowered his weapon and took a step forward, vaguely guessing the direction the other must have gone.

He must have guessed wrong because Dream soon reappeared on his left with a furrowed expression.

"I apologize, I forgot you probably can’t see much right now. We’re in the market street, almost only shops and public spaces. That’s why it’s so dark, everything is closed at this hour. No street lights on either on market days..."

The guardian finished his little ramble by putting two fingers in his mouth, as if to whistle, he blew hard, eyes-closed, without making a sound and soon some light started to filter through his clothes and between his bones. Opening his eyes revealed two fiery pits in the guise of eye lights. A warm colored storm with discreet accents of purplish blue swirling in the mix.

"Follow the light !"

And the fireflight took off again. This time followed closely by his darkened shape, chasing the warmth along turns and dashes through unknown paths and detours.

Was the way their erratic trip wiggled and grew made any sense to him ?

Not really.

But he was willing to trust the other’s knowledge on this matter more than his own, not finding the energy and will to debate and potentially slow down the quest.

Better focus on that shooting star guiding him somewhere he hoped Nightmare would be.

Hopefully unarmed.

Soon the chase came to an end in some back alley, far from the few lighted houses they came across in their mad run.

Dream stopped.

The candle was blown out and Geno turned confused at the other.

A gut-wrenching cry tore open the blanket of the night, making his sliver of a soul sending waves of panicked magic through his limbs.

Not a word was shared as they ran, again, to a scene that will join the specters haunting his dreams for many years.

Under the faint light of a summoned light ball laid a scene reminiscent of a past not so far in an uncanny way.

A group in an alley.

Some laughing.

One holding Nightmare.

One getting ready to deal a heavy blow.

One major difference was that the blow was clearly aiming to kill. A foot on the skull, pressing more and more. Nightmare’s face drenched in tears and pain and fear.

Body shaking.

A purple sleeve far too flat.

And dust.

One was blown away in a whiny blast of power, falling to dust before even hitting the wall.

The giant maw of his blaster bit down on another hard, their blood indistinguishable from the usual determination’s red drip along the fangs.

Two were impaled, pinned down like the bugs they were, feeding the stone of a vile mix of dust and blood.

One fled, without a sound, the eyes filled with death and the legs full of terror.

Geno didn’t care, not batting his only eye at the massacre he just caused and walked toward the now curled up shape on the ground.

The monster carefully picked up Nightmare who seemed barely aware anymore and folded the now-empty right sleeve on his lap.

His fingers brushed a damp cheek for a second before Geno turned to Dream who despite looking accordingly distressed by the- by everything, was still here.

« We need to leave, they’ll come back armed. And no doubt they’ll pin it down on Nightmare too. I’m not scared of dying but would you be able to protect your brother if push came to shove ? »

Dream’s eyes wandered to the wall and the ground, to the bits and rest, then fell back to Nightmare and ended up searching for something in Geno’s gaze.

"Dream, I killed these people. They were going to kill your brother. They will do it again. I am not saying I was justified. I’m telling you Nightmare needs to leave right now and I will, as well. What is your decision ?"

The other’s eyes shone with something hard as stone and he took a step towards him.

“We need to go back to the tree before anything.”

Geno couldn’t help but grin despite the grim situation and extended a hand while keeping a strong hold on his precious baggage.

“Thankfully, I know a shortcut!”

And while Dream looked confused, he took his hand and Geno turned a corner, letting the familiar magic wash over him. Next step, they were at the tree.

To his credit, the guardian only stood shocked for a short moment, opening his mouth and closing it several times before glancing at Nightmare and getting back his bearings.

"Put him under the tree and stay on the lookout, I just need some minutes..."

The monster delicately laid down Nightmare in the grass, making sure his head was supported by a thick root. He let his forehead touched the other’s briefly and whispered :

"Hang in there, I still have to say sorry for all the crap I did and said to you."

Once that out of the way, Geno took a few steps away to survey the area and focused on the few lights decorating the village, counting each again and again to make sure no new ones were lit.

He glanced a few times at Dream who was sitting on his knees, eyes closed, hands joined as if praying, the skull barely brushing the bark. He remained perfectly still, assuredly focused on whatever he was doing.

One light, two, three, four, five, six.

How had the day managed to slip away so atrociously between his fingers ? His eye fluttered on the ring still sitting innocently on his pinkie.

One light, two, three, four, five, six.

Why did he get so mad at Nightmare being hurt badly ? He could still feel his soul’s fragment squeeze and shake as if it still needed to pump more magic his way right now.

One light, two, three, four, five, six. 

Will Nightmare be okay ? He was down an arm but would he recover alright ? Why did he care that much, he thought he’d be less sensitive to people he cared about getting hurt after everything…

One light, two, three, four, five, six.

He cared ? Did he get that attached to the guardian ? Eye on the ring, again. He fidgeted with his scarf, comparing Nightmare to his former family.

One light, two, three, four, five, six.

No, it was not the same. Strangely, it didn’t feel any less deep or important than his love for them. Different however.

One light, two, three, four, five, six.

...Love ? Geno almost forgot that word had another meaning than « level of violence » and, a bit deliriously, the thought his LV increased earlier wormed its way in his mind.

One light, two, three, four, five, six.

Throwing that thought away, locking it with a key and making it melt, quelling the shaking and leaving that new burden on top of his problems for future late nights where sleep would evade him. Going back to the last thought right now !

One light, two, three, four, five, six.

This spectacular backtracking that left him swaying and unsteady landed him right back on Nightmare and… not violent love.

One light, two, three, four, five, six.

The word twirled in his mind for a minute before one sudden realization made him halt his counting, desperately trying to get the sudden warmth that rushed through him to lower before it boiled him or something.

He loved him !

And wasn’t that awkward to realize that now, when the other was unconscious and in pain ! Geno curled down under the kick of feelings, burying his face in the scarf and putting some of the fabric above his head in a makeshift hood (not even trying to untangle his real hood from under his scarf).

Well, that was plain stupid in his opinion. Realizing you like someone after he was put in mortal peril, wasn’t that corny and straight up something he could have found in thousands of cliche romantic novels ???

Could someone come kill his idiot self and let him stay dead this time..?

He did not want to deal with that. Not right now, maybe never if that was an option.

Geno stood back up, slapping lightly his cheeks with both hands, mindlessly noticing how his left  arm didn’t conjure as much strength as the other. Stupid lightning.

One light, two, three, four, five, six...seven, eight, nine, TEN and more and-

Geno wired back towards the tree, ready to shout at Dream that the situation was potentially escalating very fast when he stopped at the sight.

The guardian was crying, leaning on the bark, a bag swung on his shoulder and a hand holding onto Nightmare’s sleeve, trembling and desperate-looking.

Geno ran at Nightmare’s side and frantically checked what he could. Nothing changed except that some fresh tears had once again wet the drying bone of his cheeks. He was still out but he somehow had cried again. The relief that washed over him made him lean and plant a fast kiss on the salted surface and he declared softly, with the sheer hope he really was still out :

"My guy, you can’t die when I just realized I got a stupid crush on you. Do you wanna turn me into a ridiculous tragedy hero ? I love you, ok. Even if you will have all the rights to hate me for what I’ve done at your wakes… Better not have heard that though."

Once out of his chest, he turned towards Dream to at least tear him a new one verbally for making him fear the worst.

He stopped, again, because the other looked like a downright awful agonizing weepy mess.

"I… I know what to do… But it would-will leave us vulnerable and you might have to, » a breath and a sniffle, « like support me and carry Night’ ?"

A muffled clamor resonated its way up there and then, they both knew there was little room left to argue and plan.

As much as he hated those pesky villagers, he was not going to attempt murdering them all…

So Geno nodded and Dream started to prep whatever he needed for his plan.

He watched the other climb the tree, a yellow blanket in his arm, and reached for a dark fruit, carefully putting in the fabric, never touching it directly. He picked a golden one with far less ceremony, hastily burying it in his bag as if it burned his fingers to do so.

The guardian hopped down swiftly and put the bundle of fabric against the injured’s chest as the noise kept growing not so far away.

"Keep the apple there, try your best not to touch it but it should be more or less fine for you. It must absolutely not touch me however, that’s vital."

He hummed his agreement, he was out of his depth, better leave the lead to the expert.

"Pick him up and get back a few steps."

He did.

Dream picked up a lone branch and asked him with half-words getting loose in the wind.

"Could you put that on fire with your weird floating puppy heads ?"

What was he planning… ?

"I could, but that’d put a target on us, they might not have figured out yet we went back here ? Why ?"

He didn’t get any explanation or anything much else but what he got was a simple:

 "I trust you."

And how could he ? A gross killer like him that proved he was truly capable of the worst. With how often Dream was downtown, he might even have known these guys by name. So, how could he ?

But those weren’t eyes that lie. He recognized hurt and fear in there but it was hard to argue that it wasn't genuine trust binding the thing together.

The thin stick was held closer by an unsteady hand and a please hung in the air between them.

The blaster he summoned was as small as he could, half an arm of length at best,  and its maw opened and prepped a blast, the whine reverberating loud and clear in the not-so-still night. He soundlessly ordered it to hold and as he tried to take the branch to light it up Dream all but plundged it without hesitation in the heat himself.

He didn’t have the time to express his dismay before twig became torch and at that point, things started to accelerate.

He will remember it as a chaotic blur, clashing feelings and noises.

Feet pounding up the hill, loud and numerous.

Shouts of anger and hate, illuminated by torches and reflected on the glistening metal of hastily-found weapons.

The rush of wind dampening words that felt too heavy for something said so softly.

"I’m sorry, mom. Thank you."

Dream seemed as ablaze by his light than the now-burning tree behind him.

And then, everything crumpled.

Dream fell as his light dimmed, Geno’s blaster catching him.

The shouts turned to incredulous silence and everything seemed eerie and wrong.

For a single second, nothing felt more important than this burning tree with its fruits turning to slop and dripping on the ground. 

The world was falling at its seams and everything was ringing, again and again.

He couldn’t have been long but that instant was forever, the balance shifted and stood, fragile.

Dream howled a soul-tearing cry, Nightmare cried again in his arms and Geno stood there, lost and alien.

Dream asked him to run soon after.

He did.

Nightmare secured against his chest by his good arm, the weight barely registering as he dashed through the forest, jumping over roots and dunking under low branches.

Dream hurried not so far behind them, supported by the blaster. 

Geno didn’t trust his left arm to support anybody while running with its still lacking strength.

They ran.

They ran.

They ran.

Until dawn’s blood spilled into the black canvas, until the forest stopped and started again, until they couldn’t run anymore.

And they ran again some more to be sure.

They stopped at a spot near a river and collapsed on rocks.

The place seemed so peaceful it made Geno reel.

The calm noise of water flowing between the trees and the soft whispers of nearby animals just seemed out of place, foreign, displaced when all he could hear and see was this brazier they fled from.

Geno stayed there for long, just haphazardly trying to process the day.

It wasn’t a very fruitful attempt and he sat for long, Nightmare on his lap, his head against his shoulder, limp.

And later they’d trudge around and find a circle of grass void of trees, with an old wooden house someone must have lived in once but now stood empty and full of spider webs.

And later they would pick themselves up and the twins would bury the last two apples and from it would grow two plants who’d braid themselves into one new tree of feelings. It would be void of spirit but it would exist.

And later, after they recovered some, they would live and laugh again.

But right now, they sat there. Dream a puppet without strings, Geno a stone statue and Nightmare struggling to wake up to the aching world.

Whispers tickled Geno’s mind, close. 

Barely opened eyes looked at him without any trace of confusion, pained but true.

He held him closer and the now treasure-less guardian buried himself into his chest.

"I love you too."

And while they all sat there, broken and lost, that one tiny thing would allow them the will to continue.

Someone may call it naive or mushy but what better thing than some love to ignite hope anew in one’s soul when everything fell apart already?

One story may have ended but, from the ashes, another will find space to grow.

Always.

The end.

(go to epilogue?)

@dragon-tamer-1 @shinechermont

Geno!Sans belongs to @/loverofpiggies Nightmare, Dream and dreamtale belong to @/jokublog

[guardian-angel12]

Experiment: Flame and Ash

Chapter one

Prologue

When you were young, you used to dream about fires And scream into the night To find me standing barefoot at your side I used to whisper it will be alright And lay down at your side And take your tiny hands into mine

And how was I to know I'm not strong? I should have saved you And oh, I hope you know That you're my home But now, I'm lost, so lost

"Get down!" 

Peter's yelling voice broke through the rest of the chaos, he practically crashed to the ground to land, rolling behind a fallen chunk of debris. 

Gamora had ran and jumped behind with him just in time, Peter covering her with his shoulder as the ground exploded from a crashing ship hitting it moments later. 

"What the hell did you do?!" Rocket snarled, moving his arm away from his face, his large gun tucked to the side from his cover. 

"If we get them outta the sky we have a better chance!" Peter yelled back. "We need someone in the air! Where is Kraglin?!" 

"Should be here any minute!" Tess yelled to him, backed up against a wall, dirt splattered over her face. 

This mission wasn't supposed to be this bad, when they'd received the distress call that there had been violence breaking out in the city never once had they thought it would result in a small battle. But things always seemed to go that way. 

"There's no time to stand waiting," Drax growled, standing and drawing his knives from his boots, he started walking briskly from their cover, heading straight towards the fallen ship. 

"Drax!" Peter yelled after him, but he didn't listen. 

A few thugs came running down the street, remaining civilians had already dispersed by now, a good thing, considering they opened fire. Drax yelled and ran at them, knocking a few to their backs easily, his daggers stabbing with abandon. 

Tess growled in her throat and ran to help him, wrists shining in the sunlight as she pounced and disarmed the closest thug. 

Groaning, Peter drug himself from his hiding spot, activating his mask to go and help. "Rocket, cover me!" 

He did as Peter requested, jumping out and blasting relentlessly as his Terran friend ran out into the street, Gamora following soon after. 

Another ship flew loudly through the sky, dropping lower and lower as it got closer, heading straight for the Guardian's, it opened fire, peppering the street with red blasts. 

Tess cursed violently and looked up, Peter and the others already turning back to outrun it if possible. 

Rocket bared his teeth and raised his blaster upward, its barrel spinning wildly as blue shots flew from it up at the small pod attacking the others. "Hurry up!" he snapped at them as they ran, but Tess caught a glimpse of a vessel she recognized as she looked up, and a small wave of relief settled in. 

"Comin' in hot here." 

Kraglin's voice was over their comms as the M-ship roared through the sky, taking out the pursuing ship easily, letting Peter and his team stop their attempt to escape the blaster fire on the ground. 

"We got another couple incoming," Quill yelled through the open link, Gamora and Drax still tearing down the onslaught of thugs dressed in all black. Sakaarans, no doubt, but he wondered why they continued to show up on random planets lately. 

"On it."  Kraglin answered, his ship swooped down and curved, blasting through another vessel. 

Tess squinted as she looked up, sweat coated her face from the sun already, but only worsened when she saw her brothers risky attempts. 

Kraglin's ship swerved again, three more black-iron ships roaring in the sky. Thanos had been working for a while on his unknown quest, but Ronan's fall had thrown him back a few steps, still, his forces seemed to be ransacking every planet that seemed to have any sort of value or wealth or rumored supernatural presence.

The ships blasted at the smaller M-ship, forcing it banking right to avoid the fire, Peter looked up and grimaced, Black Order ships, for sure. 

"Krag, get out of there, now!" Tess yelled at him through their link. 

His ship twisted and banked right, avoiding a hit to the wing, but the next shot found the underside, destroying it enough that smoke billowed and it started spinning downwards. 

Kraglin grunted with effort as he pulled the ship up as much as possible, trying to avoid too hard of a crash, but despite his efforts his ship still hit the ground hard, smashing into the ground and skidding to a stop. 

Peter and Tess ran towards it, covered by Rocket and Gamora. Tess ripped the top hatch off with one hand and Peter hauled his older brother out by the arm. 

"Are you crazy?!" Tess gasped, yanking him towards her to asses the damage. 

Kraglin didn't seem hurt too much, only dazed a little with a trickle of blood running from his temple. "If we don't take 'em down before they land that's only dozens more soldiers on you!" he snapped right back, drawing his blaster from his thigh and his knife from his back as Peter joined the others once again. 

Tess would've retorted, but he stopped her with a gesture to the oncoming Black Order soldiers. "Look, you can yell at me some more later but for now, focus." 

She gave it only a second more before running back into the chaos, breaking bone and shooting what she could. 

"We gotta keep this contained and away from the rest of the city!" Peter shouted to his team. "Drax, keep them occupied!" 

His friend was more than enthusiastic to comply, daggers slashing as Peter ran for a nearby fuel tank. "Tess, over here!" 

She ripped her way away from the fighting enough to make it to him, kneeling down to his crouched level to see what he was planning. 

"Punch this right here," he told her, pointing the end of the tank that the ships attached their tubes to. 

"I hope you know what you're doing..." she muttered, slamming a fist into the thick metal and making it start spraying out in the direction of the enemy. 

"This stuff gets in the air with just its chemical energy, set in on fire and the whole area goes up in flames." 

She nodded, understanding what he was planning, and watched him slide a detonator from his belt, attaching it to the tank. 

"Now, run." he said, taking off back towards the others. "Rocket, Gamora, let's go!" 

They jerked their attention to him, breaking from their fights to run like he'd said. 

"Drax! Now!" Gamora was yelling at him, Tess, Peter and Kraglin already making it to cover as she and Rocket made their way to them. 

Drax seemed almost like he wouldn't listen, then grunted in frustration and joined the others, ducking behind the fallen Black Order ships and rubble far from the fuel tank Tess and Peter had set to blow. 

"Get ready!" Peter shouted, on his knees and pressed against the debris with his arm over Gamora's shoulders to push her closer. 

Rocket clicked the detonator and the entire area was suddenly up in flames and smoke and flying rocks, dirt and shrapnel, a shaking boom rattling the entire planet it felt like as the fire shot upward into the sky and lit on the air, engulfing the ships and soldiers. 

Kraglin turned to cover Tess from the flying objects of the explosion, even as she had turned her arms to steel in order to take the blunt of the shrapnel instead of it hitting him, the shaking lasting for a few moments after the blast. 

Peter turned to look, panting and looking down at Gamora between him and their small barricade between the explosion, she gave a small, relieved sigh when they saw the city looked clear, Drax and Peter walking out onto the street first, Rocket close behind to check for survivors. 

Tess looked up at Kraglin, silent and observing his tight, focused gaze, then he walked straight over to a moving body in the street, shooting one blast from his gun into them and the  movement stopped. 

She followed him, but kept watching, feeling his anger fueling him. Sometimes his silence worried her, never knowing exactly what words were storming behind his eyes. 

The street was mainly empty, quiet and seeming like Peter's blast had ended it all, but Tess felt something in her bones the same moment she saw Rockets ears perk to the side, a deep rumble coming a moment later. 

"Move!" Tess snapped at the others, but too late, and a huge blast broke the ground in front of them before the word finished coming from her mouth, all she knew next was a high pitched whining in her head and a dark swirling in her vision as dust and blood coated her lips. 

A Black Order ship landed just a little bit away from the blast, soldiers filing out quickly. 

Peter rolled to his side groaning, Kraglin pushing himself back up and spitting blood into the ruined street, searching for his sister. 

Tess felt the boots of soldiers nearing, and forced herself to turn her head and move her elbow to brace herself, aiming her blaster as they raised theirs. 

The others fought back as the soldiers began firing, having no choice but to find cover after taking the force of the blast and becoming disoriented and weak. 

Gamora hauled Tess up and stood beside her while they both shot, making their way back to the safety of the fallen ships. 

"Quill, there's too many!" Rocket yelled above the rest of the noise, but Peter didn't reply. 

"Just go!" Gamora screamed to them, Drax and Kraglin hesitant to back off, but there was no choice. 

"She's right," Peter finally said. "Run! Now!" 

"Peter," Tess protested at him, eyes wide. "What about he city?!" 

"We can't help if we're dead!" 

"But—"

"He's right," Kraglin grabbed her arm and pulled her back with him. "We're outnumbered and outgunned. We gotta go."

She was panicking softly, something about this situation felt all too familiar and had her nerves pulsing faster as imminent danger came closer, blaster fire barely missing them. 

"Tess, run!" Kraglin was suddenly pushing her forward, making her snap out of her thoughts and forced her to focus. 

"What-" she barely got the word out before he was blocking her from the rest of the street, his blasters aimed and shooting to protect the both of them. 

Jump the ship, Tess. 

Her heart shuddered into her throat at the memory, everything bringing it back too fast.

She didn't give it much more time to think, and shoved herself past him to land both her fists into the ground, causing a reverberation to go through and shake the path the Black Order ran with trembles and pulses. Then she was shoving him to run together. Never again would she flee alone, not when the last time she had she'd been scared enough to leave the only family she had, a choice that haunted every waking moment since. She'd never even gotten to see Yondu again... and wondered if she hadn't left, would he still be alive?

Peter was waiting for them at the edge of the street, Rocket standing on the platform of the Benatar already aiming his gun for the incoming soldiers. 

"Come on, Come on, Come on!" Peter yelled, waiting until the two Ravagers had made it up the ramp before turning his neck towards the cockpit. "Now, Gamora!" 

The ship jerked with takeoff, leaving them to grab the sides and steady themselves as the ramp finished closing. 

Tess turned to Peter and shoved him lightly in the chest. "I can't believe you're willing to leave that city to be pillaged just to save your own—"

"Never said that." he answered, making his way to the cockpit and Rocket joining them. "Have it ready, Rocket." Peter called, dropping into the co-pilots seat and jerking the controls to bring the ship spinning back towards the largest of the Black Order ships. 

"There's your mothership." Kraglin turned to tell Peter, seeing the huge black vessel come to view. 

"Then that's what we're headin' for." 

Rocket was snapping together a few small devices in his hands, a cord hung from his contraption and he looked it over with a keen eye, tightening one last thing before making it back to the ramp. "Quill, make it fast." 

"Yeah." 

"Tess, activate the sealing mesh as soon as I drop this out." Rocket told her, the ramp going back down while they were almost out of the atmosphere, sending harsh winds slamming into the ship. 

Tess nodded and put her hand on the lever, trying to hold herself still against the wind. 

"Almost in..!" Peter called again, then him and Gamora jerked the steering handles in unison, sending the Benatar nearly upside down over the Black Order mothership. 

Rocket dropped his device on time, and it seemed to magnetize itself down to the mothership. 

Tess activated the mesh like he'd told her to do, and saw his small hands clasp around a device and the next thing she knew the whole mothership was blowing apart from the inside, crashing down through the sky but at a rate where nothing but black dust would settle on the planet. 

Drax laughed triumphantly. "You did it!" 

Rocket's cocky grin was his only response as he made it to take over flying for Gamora, Tess and Kraglin watching the demolition as the hatch closed again. 

"Told you I wasn't leaving them." Peter said, his eyes turned enough that Tess knew he was addressing her. 

She nodded silently, glancing at Kraglin and sparing a weak smile. 

"They won't try to take the city with what they have on the ground," Gamora said. "Most of the army would have been on that ship." 

"Good, because I am beat." Peter said, obvious satisfaction in his voice nonetheless. "I say we stick around the polish off that army, what do you think?" 

Gamora nodded, hands on her hips, and the rest of them knew the decision was made once she agreed with Peter. 

"Alright then," Peter said, looking at the pilots seat at Rocket who wasn't looking at anything but the sky beyond the window. "Let's find someplace to land, get some shut eye while we wait for things to cool off a bit then head out at nightfall." 

"And get a shower." Gamora pushed his shoulder softly, a fond smile playing on her lips. "You're filthy." 

Peter instantly jumped at her words, jerking around to her. "Does that mean—"

"Don't start, Peter." she quickly shut him down. "Stay focused." 

Rocket rolled his eyes silently, the other three pretending they heard nothing, Drax probably not even giving it much attention anyways. 

"Let me look at that..." Tess said softly, moving around Kraglin to address the half-dried blood that had come from his temple. 

He held his hand out to her and shook his head. "I'm good. Get some sleep if you can." 

She sighed and shut her eyes and he gave her shoulder a tiny squeeze, leaving to his own shared bunk with Peter, Tess sharing with Gamora when they used the small ship while her and Peter were in one on the Quadrant. 

While Rocket was assigned the one with Drax they all knew he slept where he fell down and that was it. 

"Tess," Gamora's surprisingly gentle voice was behind her in a moment. She turned to look at her and found her waving her to their bunk. Tess put her hand on Drax's arm as she passed him as both a parting gesture and a silent 'good job' and followed Gamora. 

"Don't think I'm not aware he's been tellin' you stuff." Tess said as soon as she sat down on her bed, bracing her hands on either side of herself. 

Gamora shut the door and looked at her, eyes soft but concerned. "Your brother worries for you, that's why." 

"Yeah, well, why can't I worry about him instead? There ain't no helping me and he seems like he's trying to slowly kill himself." 

"Peter was off the drinking within a few weeks, give him time, Tess, it'll be alright." 

"Will it?" she looked up at her friend—sister-in-law, in some ways, she supposed. 

"It will." she walked over to her and made her stand, pulling her filthy coat from her shoulders and tossing it on the ground. Then pushed her hair off her face. "Give it time." 

"Don't you start trying to coddle me, too, Gam." 

"I'm not. You're just calling any sort of care anyone shows you something negative." Gamora moved her head to be looking into Tess' eyes. "Why?" 

Honestly, she knew why, after years of dealing with Nebula she was used to this kind of stubborn refusal to accept care or sympathy, not that Gamora could claim to have given much, but, in the quiet moments when no one was looking, she'd tried. She knew it had been the same with Tess and Kraglin living with the Ravagers for those years, seeking the clipped opportunities to show a love to each other that they had never received from anyone else. 

But Nebula had pushed away from Gamora the same way Tess was now, she supposed maybe with her sisters refusal to stay with the Guardians and seek revenge against Thanos maybe she'd tried to spill her sisterly urges and instinct out over Tess instead, but was receiving much of the same result. 

"I'm not." Tess mumbled. "But everyone worrying about me... I just don't see it as important." 

Tess moved to walk away, and Gamora grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "It is important. To me, to Peter, to Kraglin. It is." 

Tess nodded but she knew it was just her way of trying to end the mostly-one-sided conversation. "I have watch. I'm gonna go."

"Rocket has first watch. You need sleep." she said unmovingly, then pushed Tess towards her bed. "Now try and get some. And when you wake up, I think you need to go talk to your brother and figure out what it is going on with you two," Tess just stared silently at the taller woman as Gamora pushed something into Tess' hands. "Don't forget where you came from." was all she said. 

Tess waited for her to go to her own cot and stood there, slowly looking down at the flame insignia in her hands and swallowing her tight throat.

Then she laid down despite knowing what always happened, not for herself, but more of for peace of mind to the others. 

                                       - - -

"Told you we could handle this one." Peter sighed as he laid back on his cot, crossing his arms beneath his head. 

"Yeah, still gotta deal with the aftermath." Kraglin said, not looking at his younger brother from where he stood at the small water basin made into the wall. 

"You never were an optimist." 

"Just keeping things how they are." 

Peter chewed his lip and watched as Kraglin scrubbed at his face with with the water, feeling the odd sense that the man he'd known for nearly his whole life was not the same one. 

It was strange, really, because Peter had never thought he'd be sleeping in the same room with him again, and especially not with the entire crew of Ravagers they used to live with dead in space—and entire faction lost. Half to traitors and half to loyalty. 

Peter still felt sick when he thought of it, thought of Yondu... 

Hope you're finally at peace, old man. 

He sighed through his nose and sat up, while he'd found a way to be more at ease with what had happened, he knew it had destroyed Kraglin, changed him, maybe just simply broke him, even if he was holding it somewhat together for Tess still. Peter couldn't help but feel guilty. Like maybe if it wasn't for him...

No, he couldn't feel sorry for himself now, not when he had all these new things come up, an older brother and two younger sisters, plus his relationship with Gamora and leading his team on top of that, there was no time to sit and pity himself. Not right now. 

"I think Mantis and Groot should be alright for a little while longer," Peter said as he flipped his covers back and grabbed his Zune from the bedside, his fingers wrapping around it with the care he'd always held his mother’s Walkman. "If all goes well we should be heading back to the Quadrant by morning." 

Kraglin only nodded, but Peter knew that was about all the acknowledgment he'd get. Even though he knew the bigger talker had always been himself, it had only become worse since the last few months after they'd brought Tess home again. But Peter guessed it was because he'd done what his mother had always told him: Just keep moving ahead, my little Star-Lord. 

Kraglin had seemed to become a lot like Yondu on the things that haunted him, and stayed quiet about them until they either leaked into his drunken words or poured out in an angry rage pent up from too long of holding it. 

"Hey," Peters voice came soft, taking everything he'd learned from Meredith and putting it to use. "You know... if you ever need to talk about it, I'm here... Bro." 

"I know, Pete." he said with equal softness, walking to the cot and putting his hand on Peter's shoulder. "I know." 

                                       - - -

She woke up to the sound of whimpering below her, then a knock on the bottom of the bunk like from a limb hitting it. 

Gamora was groggy as she sat up, but knew what she was hearing. "It's alright, Nebu—" she blinked to fully wake herself in surprise, and a little pang of sorrow went through her when she realized her sister was not the one below her. 

She shook from her thoughts and quickly made it down, seeing Tess twitching in her sleep, her hands jerking every few moments as if to mirror whatever was happening in her head. 

"No... I can't—no..."'

Tess was barely mumbling her words but Gamora understood, she'd seen it happen to Nebula countless times and knew what to do. 

"Hey..." she whispered, sitting down on the cot and slowly taking Tess' hand to wake her up. "Tess, it's alright, wake up."

She was panting in her sleep, her head jerking from one side to the other as she continued to murmur frightened, desperate words. Gamora bit her lip and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her a little after her first louder cry. "Tess! Wake up." 

Her quicksilver eyes were suddenly bursting wide open, full of tears as she let out a gasping scream of 'no', pushing Gamora away roughly, forcing her to stand up quickly. 

"Hey, it's me, it's me," Gamora tried her best to keep her voice steady and calm, putting her hands out towards Tess, who she wasn't sure was even grasping what was going on as she sat up hyperventilating and shaking. 

The door swished open and Gamora spun around at Rocket, gun raised and stance set to kill, his eyes darting around in search of the danger. "What the hell—!" he began, lowering his gun down.

"I don't know," Gamora cut him off, waving a hand at him. "Just get Kraglin." 

Rocket cocked his head a bit to be able to see Tess, and he actually felt horrible seeing her like that, then left before Gamora yelled at him again.

Tess was inconsolable, shaking violently and crying, little screams coming when Gamora tried to reach for her. She'd been through a lot of bad nights with Nebula, even had some herself, but never had they been this bad. Maybe because of fear of what would be done to them if they were discovered, or because they'd been trained to not fear, she didn't know, but it broke her heart that there was nothing she could do and obviously Tess didn't understand who she was, the surroundings of the Benetar probably too foreign to her and fueling her panic.

Gamora heard the footfalls behind her, and spun around at Kraglin, followed closely by Peter entering the room. She couldn't see Rocket but knew he was most likely there. 

"She won't let you near her?" Kraglin asked, worry in his voice and his eyes never leaving his sister, curling up as far into the corner as possible, balled up into herself. 

"No, I tried, she just—" Gamora stopped talking as he neared Tess, reaching a hand out to her slowly, Peter came up behind Gamora and took her by the shoulder, making her back up. "I can't tell if she's awake." 

"Not completely." 

"This happens a lot?" Peter asked softly, but didn't get an answer. 

"It's ok, Tess..." Kraglin whispered to her, and Peter had a tiny flashback of him saying the same to him, both of them children, and it having to be done in secret. "You're not there, it ain't real." 

She jerked her eyes towards his voice, and he slid next to her with his hand extended, finally resting it gently on her cheek. "You're safe, it's over." his voice was barely audible, but clearly she heard it because it was obvious how much she was calming down, her eyes flicking over him before she suddenly uncurled from the corner and pressed herself against him, as if he was the only familiar, comforting thing in her world amidst everything else foreign and terrifying, her hands grasping at the front of his shirt as she hid her face in his neck, gasping out little sobs. 

"Shhh...don't cry..." he put one hand firmly on the back of her head and the other between her shoulders, stroking slow, gentle sweeps. "I'm here." 

"I'm sorry—" she gasped, now fully awake and her voice strangled from her shaking and heavy breathing, and muffled with how she pressed her face into the soft spot where his neck and chest came together, eyes squeezing shut as if to block out the images she'd seen. 

"No, hey, you're alright." 

Tess sniffled and cuddled herself against him rather than cling as if for dear life, her breathing coming easier.

Kraglin laid his head on top of hers and looked over it at Gamora and Peter, giving them a tiny nod that told them it was alright now.

Gamora stood and watched with an unreadable expression, something like sadness in her honeyed eyes before Peter coaxed her to leave. 

"You alright?" Kraglin's eyes turned down towards her to softly ask. Tess gave a tiny, shaky nod. "You told me this stopped..."

"I—I didn't want you to worry."

"Tess..." 

"I'm alright." 

He wanted to argue, but her voice sounded so small he knew she was barely even awake, and she just tightened her grip as her eyes drifted shut again, feeling bad that the only way the nightmares didn't come were if he was right there, with his warmth and his scent and his voice right beside her to keep her grounded. 

But he was willing to do it for her every single time she tried to sleep if she let him, knowing that he woke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath  and clawing at phantom chains on his neck every time he fell asleep, too. 

"I love ya." he whispered to her, pulling her blanket over her shoulders, and no response came from her but her soft breathing. "I won't let anything hurt you again. I swear." 

And he hoped—like the promise he'd made when he was twenty years old, standing on the bridge of the Eclector, 'I'll always be loyal to you, Captain'—that this time he didn't break it. This time he wouldn't fail.

[kawareo]

Meet Candor!

The patriotic autobot with a car alt mode is a background character on Lost light. He has joined the expedition at the very beginning, but hasn’t made any important impressions until his conjux, Fuse, was found after being presumed dead on Garrus 9, and has joined the crew with him.

Candor used to have dreams about being a doctor, but after failing medical and nursing and mnemosurgery schools due to poor performance, he has given up on those dreams. He went to work as a guard on Garrus 2, where he was assigned a service gun, a minibot gunformer with designation Fuse, whom he later conjuxed, and the two transferred to Garrus 9. Candor was one of the rare bots that made it off-planet right before Overlord appeared, but tragically, he was separated from Fuse in the carnage. His ship crashed on a nearby moon and he spent the next few years there, mourning the assumed death of his beloved, until a cargo ship finally found and picked him up.

He spent the next few years rebuilding his life on Cyberton, when he heard of the quest to find the Knights, and decided to join. Currently he’s working in Lost Light’s communications under Blaster, and is now happily reunited with Fuse.

[words-with-wren]

Alright so, largely inspired by a conversation with @glass-expanse about Obi-Wan becoming the Mand'alor, here's the first chapter of that hypothetical story!

I don't know if I'll end up writing anymore, but I am absolutely keen to talk about it more so feel free to send asks or various ramblings about it! More thoughts at the bottom.

(Also @bucketorandomness you wanted a tag <3)

~~~~~~

The weapon hung heavy under Korkie's poncho as he trudged through the sands, head protected from the beating suns by a hood. Tatooine was not, exactly, where he had expected his quest to take him when he set out but here he was, walking across the Dune Sea in search of a reported 'crazy old man' who could be the saviour of his people. 

Now that he was here, it seemed like a fool's errand. Ancient traditions that no one really held to anymore, a last desperate attempt to salvage something from the mess the Empire had made of the world. 

Rumours had circulated that Maul was dead--and as the last holder of the Darksaber, whoever had killed him could claim the title of Mand'alor--ruler of all the Mandalorians. 

Korkie had been involved in many discussions, debates and arguments over what to do with the recovered weapon for almost a year now. His aunt Bo-Katan had been insistent that she wield it, or at least that one of their own take it. Others had been far more vocal about following traditions. The saber had no power unless its traditions were held. 

Finally, the few scattered clans had come to a reluctant and tentative agreement--they would send one to find out what had happened. This scout would see if Maul's killer was a suitable leader and hand over the saber. 

Or challenge him and claim the saber for himself. 

The only way Bo-Katan could be appeased was if her own family were sent. And so Korkie found himself in the middle of the desert, on a fool's errand with minimal optimism. 

He had followed Maul's trail with surprising ease to Taootine, and from there it had taken some asking around and searching to find what he was looking for. There were rumours of strange flashes of lights in the Dune Sea months ago, not far from Beggar's canyon. 

Reportedly, the only person who lived out that way was crazy Old Man Kenobi. 

The name left a strange, dry taste in Korkie's mouth when he had first heard it. Kenobi--a promise unfulfilled, a dream left unreached. He'd spent his childhood dreaming of the name that might have belonged to him, and his adulthood unravelling the lies. 

Of course, he couldn't be sure that the man he was looking for was the same man who had haunted his adolescent years. But who else would be able to kill a Sith Lord? 

He wasn't sure what he hoped for. 

A hut sat on the hill above him and Korkie paused a moment, looking up at it. He touched the sabre at his belt again to make sure it was still there and began the climb up. 

He was almost to the door when he felt the familiar tingling sensation of a blaster trained on him. He froze, snapping his head up to see an old man standing a few paces away from the house, a rifle trained on him. 

Korkie raised his hands as he studied the man. He was old--old enough to make him wonder if maybe this wasn't the Kenobi he had been expecting. His beard was white and his face worn--tired and old in a way that seemed all too familiar in the last years.

But as Korkie looked further, he began to see a familiar chin, the way the beard sculpted his face. He had only met Kenobi once, on the worst day of his life, but he knew his own face well enough to see the similarities. 

"Obi-Wan Kenobi?" 

Something flashed across the man's face--fear, surprise, shock--only to be immediately hidden again. 

"No one by that name lives here," he answered and his voice was enough to confirm to Korkie he wasn't telling the entire truth. 

"You are Kenobi though?" 

"Ben Kenobi." 

Korkie bit out a sharp laugh at that. 

"Of all the names you could have hidden behind and you chose the one she gave you."

That got a reaction. His eyes darkened for a moment, and then recognition slowly broke over the old man’s face and he shouldered his rifle.

“Korkie Kryze. I never expected you of all people would come out here.” 

 “Well, here I am,” Korkie said. 

Kenobi studied him for a moment, then shouldered his rifle. 

“Come on then.” 

He moved inside and Korkie hurried after him. 

It was a small, simple building, a far cry from what Korkie assumed the former Jedi Master had once been used to but similar enough to what his people had been living in he felt no sympathy. Kenobi tossed the rifle to one side and settled himself on one of the cushioned benches along the wall, gesturing for Korkie to sit as well. He did, glancing a little nervously at the rifle so casually thrown aside. 

“Oh, it hasn’t got any charge,” Kenobi said casually. “I would never actually use something like that--it's more of a warning to the few people who ever come out here.” 

“Why are you out here?” Korkie asked. For years he had thought Kenobi had died in the Purge. He had mourned that as a child, but he had moved on and recovered. When rumours of Maul’s death started spreading, a small part of him wondered--maybe even hoped, though he would never admit that. 

And now, here he was, sitting before the man himself. 

“It’s as good a place as any to hide,” Kenobi mused, stroking his beard and staring out the window at the clear afternoon sky. 

“Is that really what you’re doing?” Korkie demanded. “Hiding?” He wasn’t sure he could quite believe it. He remembered that horrible, horrible day when he was a teenager--the day he had met Kenobi and lost the person most important to him, all in one. Then Kenobi had been strong, despite it all. He had never given up, he had continued to fight. 

“Korkie, I am the Empire’s number one target right now,” Kenobi said quietly. “If they knew where I was, I  would not be anywhere for long.” 

“So you’ve just given up,” Korkie said. 

“No. I’m waiting.” 

“For what! What could you possibly be waiting for that you can’t make a difference now.” A part of him, brought up by the memories of his childhood, wondered at how much he had changed. He had been a pacifist as a child, raised as he was. He had thought Satine’s way was right. 

Maybe he’d been spending too much time with Bo-Katan. Maybe she had always been right. 

“I’m waiting for hope,” Kenobi said, and Korkie scowled. 

“For hope? What good is hope without action? You could be doing something now, something useful, something that would actually strike a blow to the heart of the Empire! That’s why I came. You can’t wait for hope, you have to fight for it!” 

“I can’t help you, Korkie. I’m not what you’re looking for.” 

“You killed Maul.” 

That seemed to catch his attention. He turned away from the window to focus on Korkie, though he seemed unable to hold eye contact for any length of time. 

“You killed Maul,” Korkie repeated. “And Maul was the last person to hold the Dark Sabre.” 

A strange, shocked, angry and terrified expression flittered across the old man’s face. 

“No,” he said. Korkie didn’t pay any attention. 

“By tradition, that means you can claim the Dark Saber and unite the Mandalorians.” 

“I will not--” 

“Someone has to. I know you can do it--you were a General! If my people were united, think what we could do against the Empire. You know I’m right.”

“Your people? I thought the Death Watch were not Mandalorian.” 

“Mandalore no longer exists. We cannot pick and choose who is Mandalorian. We are scattered and few--we need a Mand’alor. We need a banner to unite under.” 

“And you want that to be me?” 

“You have a right to the Dark Sabre and thus the title of Mand’alor.” 

“No.” 

He repeated it firmly, strongly. Korkie could tell he would have a hard time convincing him. 

He also knew if it came down to a fight, he wasn’t confident he could win. 

“So you give up?” he accused. “You sit down and let people die around you? You abandon those who need you?” 

“I am needed here,” he said softly. Korkie stood, clenching his fists. 

“Hut’uun,” he spat. From Kenobi’s wince, he knew the former Jedi understood the impact of the insult. 

“Claim the sabre for yourself, Korkie,” Kenobi said quietly, again not meeting his eyes. “Say you beat me in trial and lead your people. It is your birthright.” 

“I never wanted to fight,” Korkie said, fists still clenched at his side. Kenobi just bowed his head and the younger man scowled

He turned to go, but he knew he couldn't leave--not like this. Not without saying something, not without giving something to the part of him that was still 15 and wondering. Not without striking one final blow to the cowardly old man.

He paused at the door and looked back. Kenobi looked strangely frail and old in the dim shadows of his house. Nothing like the proud Jedi General he had been in awe of as a young man.

"You know Satine wasn't my aunt," he said. 

Kenobi nodded slowly. 

"I know." His voice was soft, holding all the aching memories Korkie tried never to think about. 

"Then you know who my father is?" 

He kept his eyes locked on the old Jedi, refusing to let him charm his way out of this one. Kenobi still didn't meet his eyes. 

"Yes." 

It was all that needed to be said. Korkie nodded, turning abruptly and taking a deep breath. His vision blurred and he told himself it was just his eyes adjusting to the light of the evening suns. 

"Korkie," Kenobi called, his voice catching Korkie as he stepped forward. He stopped but didn't turn around. "For what it's worth--I'm sorry." 

Korkie felt a strange urge to laugh. This frail, broken old man was apologising. Apologising for a childhood of wondering, decades of feeling lost and out of place, a lifetime of missing someone he never even knew. 

Apologising for his mother's violent and unnecessary death. For the destruction of his home. For the end of the world. For sitting back and watching everything burn around him. 

Before he could fully think it through, he turned. 

"Prove it." His voice was barely a whisper, a beg. He felt like he was fourteen again, wishing his mother would for once let him be her son and not her nephew.

“I wish I could.” Kenobi looked up at him, face haunted and deep with grief. Korkie couldn’t quite bring himself to feel sorry for the old man. But he felt something--betrayal maybe. Sorrow over what could have been. “But I am needed here.” 

“What could possibly be on this dustball that’s more important than striking against the Empire,” Korkie asked softly. 

“Hope.” He hesitated a moment and Korkie could sense he was debating saying more. Finally, he let out a long sigh. “There is a boy here who could save the galaxy when he is grown. It is my duty to watch over him and protect him.” 

“Duty,” Korkie said. “It’s always duty with you, isn’t it. The perfect Jedi, following his code exactly. Too focused on his duty to think about his family. Did you even care? Did you even care about my mother, or was she just a mission--a passing fancy?” 

Again, Kenobi couldn’t meet his eye. 

“Of course I loved her,” he said softly, voice heavy. “I would have left the Order had she asked. There were moments I wanted her to ask.” He looked up again, at Korkie silhouetted in the doorway. 

“Then leave for me.” 

For a moment, Korkie almost thought he would. For a moment, Korkie could almost imagine returning to his people with a new leader, returning with a mission accomplished and hope for the Mandalorians. 

For a chance to know his father. 

But Kenobi slowly shook his head, dropping his gaze once again. Korkie refused to be disappointed--he just turned and strode quickly away from the house, away from the sad, cowardly old man waiting for a hope that would never come. 

He told himself the Mandalorians were better off without him. He told himself he could return and rule them and would do a better job than a former Jettsi. He told himself he had lived over thirty years without a father and he didn’t need one now. 

He told himself this, and if any tears formed in his eyes the hot suns of Tatooine swallowed them before they could fall.

_______

I struggled so much with how Obi-Wan would actually be convinced to leave Luke and the solution I came up with was just too long and boring and I wasn't that interested in writing it at this stage so you just get this sorry!

The way I imagine it goes, is that Luke around this time is about 15/16 and starts using the Force accidentally. Which then draws attention, and as much as they hate to, Owen and Beru end up going to Obi-Wan because they realise that this is what Obi-Wan is there for, and if Luke keeps messing around with the Force he's going to be noticed.

So Obi-Wan agrees to train Luke then, but they need to get off Tatooine. And Korkie's still on the planet trying to cool off his anger and disappointment before heading back to meet up with the other Mandalorians. Then Obi-Wan with teenage Luke rock up and after some argument and convincing, the three of them head off on a grand adventure, Luke kind of being trained as a Jedi/in the Force but also Korkie insisting they go back to the Mandalorians.

And then I dunno where it'd go from there. I imagine it would take Obi-Wan a while to actually be convinced to become the Mand'alor - he's also probably Not a Fan of the Dark Sabre in general cos it was the weapon used to kill Satine. Obviously some family bonding, in case it wasn't obviously in this au I'm going with the Korkie being Obi-Wan's son headcanon because it adds just another fun layer!

Anyway eventually probably Obi-Wan (and maybe Luke) becomes a full Mandalorian and potentially leader of the Mandalorians (Bo-Katan is Not Impressed) and idk how it'll all play out. Do think it'd be fun to bring Leia in at some point, maybe make her a Mandalorian as well just for fun! Leia would make a great mando. (also Obi-Wan and Bail reunion. Tbh Obi-Wan and Leia reunion would also be fun. Ahsoka shows up at some point as well I'm sure because I love her and she deserves it)

[oh-meow-swirls]

Whispocrates n Rudy being befriendable yokai missions are probably not canon, mainly because Rudy isn't a yokai so how can they have a medal? Then Whispocrates is just Whisper but from the past and yokai medals do edit overtime.

rudy being befriendable is seemingly canonical; in blasters, jibanyan fighting rudy n the other cat yo-kai to become the ultimate cat yo-kai is just him dreaming, but after he wakes up, rudy comes over n you get his medal, implying that rudy somehow is a yo-kai. personally i headcanon he came to be as a yo-kai after the jibanyan's secret quest in 2. i don't have white dog squad so can't say on whispocrates-

[creativeblogwritingideas]

Splash and Play: How Gel Blaster Guns Are Revolutionizing Playtime

In the realm of recreational activities, Gel Blaster Guns have emerged as the unexpected heroes, revolutionizing playtime and turning ordinary moments into thrilling adventures. These water-filled wonders have taken the concept of play to new heights, offering a unique blend of excitement, strategy, and camaraderie. Let's explore how Gel Blaster Guns are transforming playtime and why they are becoming the go-to choice for those seeking an immersive and action-packed experience.

From Imagination to Reality: Gel Blasters Bring Fantasy to Life

Childhood dreams of epic battles and heroic adventures come to life with the introduction of Gel Blaster Guns. What was once the stuff of imagination being now a reality, as enthusiasts of all ages gear up with their favorite blasters to engage in water warfare that rivals the excitement of their wildest fantasies. Gel Blaster Guns have bridged the gap between make-believe and reality, turning playtime into an immersive experience.

Best Gel Blaster Gun: Unleashing the Ultimate Playtime Companion

At the heart of the Gel Blaster revolution lies the quest for the "Best Gel Blaster Gun." Enthusiasts and beginners alike are on the lookout for the ideal blaster that combines power, accuracy, and a touch of style. The pursuit of the best gel blaster adds an element of excitement to the journey, as players explore the diverse range of options available and discover the perfect companion for their playtime adventures.

Strategic Play: Gel Blaster Battles as a Team Sport

Gel Blaster Guns introduce an element of strategy to playtime that goes beyond the ordinary. Whether engaging in backyard skirmishes or organized events, players quickly learn the importance of teamwork, communication, and strategic thinking. Gel blaster battles transform playtime into a dynamic team sport where coordination and tactics play a crucial role in achieving victory.

Inclusive Fun: Gel Blasters for All Ages

One of the remarkable aspects of Gel Blaster Guns is their inclusivity. From kids to adults, everyone can partake in the excitement. The easy-to-use design and the wide range of blaster models cater to various age groups, making gel blasters a family-friendly choice. The shared experience of gel blasting bridges generational gaps, creating memorable moments for families and friends alike.

Outdoor Adventures: Gel Blasters Break the Indoor Mold

Gel Blaster Guns encourage outdoor play, breaking the mold of indoor screen time. The thrill of navigating outdoor terrains, strategizing with teammates, and feeling the splash of water pellets adds a refreshing dimension to playtime. Gel blasters inspire adventurers to explore their surroundings, turning parks, backyards, and open spaces into dynamic battlefields.

Building Connections: Gel Blasters Foster Camaraderie

The sense of camaraderie within the Gel Blaster community is a testament to the transformative power of these water weapons. Online forums, local events, and social media groups provide platforms for enthusiasts to connect, share experiences, and discuss the best gel blaster gun options. Playtime extends beyond the physical battlefield, creating a community of like-minded individuals who share a passion for excitement and adventure.

Conclusion: Gel Blaster Guns – Playtime Redefined

As Gel Blaster Guns continue to gain popularity, it's evident that playtime is undergoing a revolution. From sparking the quest for the best gel blaster to fostering strategic thinking and outdoor exploration, these water-filled wonders have become the catalysts for memorable and immersive adventures. So, gear up, find your ideal blaster, and join the Gel Blaster revolution – where playtime is not just an activity but an unforgettable experience.

[worldsofzzt]

Source “Quest for the Dream Blaster” by Unknown (1993) [DREAMBLS.ZZT] - “Forest B” Play This World Online

[ububunes]

I have so many things I wanna do.... Too many things ... Too much time... Play games?? Read books I bought but haven't read yet??? Finish my damn cross stitch??? Write a fanfic of my fav but then get burnt out and never finish it??? I beat blasters t main stuff in ykw3 so. Nothing there. Just need a blizzaria to finish one final quest. Do I draw???? Uuuuooooo.... I keep getting into things... I should stop doing that.... Currently into precure. Got jumpscared by one of my friends asking if I've ever wondered if I'm autistic and it's becoming more and more plausible. I keep having weird dreams. Uuuuuughhh flops on the ground like this and passes out frothing

[gztrust]

Youtubers life 2 adam

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[moonstrider9904]

Ryloth

Chapter 20 of Moonwalker: The Batch

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Summary: A strange distress call leads Sarah to Ryloth, the planet where it all began, where Crosshair’s presence will change the course of events.

Word count: 5.3k

Tags/warnings: Mature. Angst (sorry), mild arguing, flirting, teasing, polyamory

Songs: dreams pt ii, walking on the moon

A/N: guys guys guys, that song walking on the moon seriously fueled the last part of this chapter. Major vibes. Ugh I can’t wait for you guys to read this. Enjoy!!

Sarah carefully moved her fingers one by one, trying her hardest to pick up on any signs of pain even though there weren’t any. Tech had changed her arm cast for only a thinner cast around the forearm, and he’d insisted she didn’t have it removed for another few days and not overdo any movement with her hand.

She’d still been sitting out on missions, but fortunately, Cid had only bestowed simple deliveries and pick-ups onto the batch for the past month or so. There were times when Sarah tagged along, but given Tech’s persuasion abilities, Sarah remained on Ord Mantell helping Cid out with the parlor most of the time.

On one such day, when Sarah was enjoying a break from bartending at the back of the parlor, she noticed her long range communication frequency beeping incessantly, something unusual and unexpected. She hadn’t sensed Hunter being hurt, or any of the others, which gave her comfort as she reached for the comm device and activated it.

“Come in,” Sarah said.

“Sarah,” Hunter’s voice came in from the other end of the comm, slightly distorted due to the distance. “We’ve had a change of plans, there’s a kid who needs our help on Ryloth.”

“Okay?” Sarah raised a brow. “Doesn’t sound like you to do that in the middle of a mission.”

“Omega insisted,” Hunter replied; Sarah could mentally see Hunter rubbing his forehead. “Anyway, she talked of imperial presence on Ryloth, and I don’t want to jinx anything, but I think we’ll need your help.”

“Ryloth…” Sarah sighed. “Okay, I’ll let Cid know and take the Y-Wing. Want me to take any supplies?”

“Only if you can get your hands on them, love,” Hunter replied.

“Alright,” she said as she got up from the bed. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. In the meantime be careful, alright? If the Empire’s on Ryloth, you don’t want to tick them off.”

“We’ll be careful, I promise,” Hunter answered. “In any case, we’re going to recon from a distance before making any decisions.”

“I trust you, Hunter,” Sarah said softly, smiling into the comm. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Hunter said back, his endearment audible even through the rusty comms, along with mocking kissing noises in the background.

Sarah cut the comm frequency and reached for her belt and blaster, holstering it as her gaze wandered over to the packed Firepuncher that rested next to her bed. She considered taking it, but no one else would know how to use it, and her wrist wasn’t strong enough yet to support the weight of a rifle like that one. As much as it reminded her of Crosshair, she’d have to leave it there for now.

Ready to leave, Sarah marched herself into Cid’s office, not beating about the bush.

“I’m gonna have to finish my shift later,” Sarah commented. “The boys need help on Ryloth.”

Cid set the holopad she was staring at down on her desk with a thud. “I sent them on a delivery run, what could possibly have gone wrong?”

“Call it a side quest,” Sarah answered. “Some kid on Ryloth made a distress call, and they’re answering.”

Cid hummed with disapproval. “My contact on Ryloth’s been askin’ for weapons, I can’t imagine things are pink and rosy over there. You sure Broody knows what he’s doin’?”

“He’s being cautious,” Sarah responded. “He asked me to go for backup, so I’m gonna need to take the Y-Wing.”

“I told ya that thing’s as good as yours, Strider,” Cid nodded. “You sure you can handle it?”

“I won’t risk hurting my wrist with the rifle,” Sarah replied. “But I can fly and handle a hand blaster if it’s necessary.”

“Right,” Cid got up from behind her desk. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Thanks,” Sarah directed a salute before walking out the door. She walked the familiar pathway down to the landing bay where the Y-Wing was—she figured that, if Cid had been kind enough to gift it to her, she should start thinking of a name for the ship—and as soon as Sarah walked herself into the bay where the ship was, the golden-brown astromech rolled himself over, excited to see her again.

You are here! Incredible!

“I missed you too, buddy,” Sarah grinned at R-63L. Perhaps a name for him wouldn’t hurt either.

Sarah walked over to the ship and used its controls to lower a ladder for her to climb up and begin loading the copilot seat with the ammunition she’d picked up, hoping it wouldn’t be necessary. As she got into the pilot’s seat, R6 flew himself over to his spot on the ship.

“I’m gonna need you to set a course for Ryloth, buddy,” Sarah said. “We’ve got enough fuel, right?”

Yep, tank’s full and ready to go.

“Great,” she said as she lowered the canopy and took a deep, shaky breath.

With no more delay, Sarah left Ord Mantell on the Y-Wing and entered hyperspace with the coordinates R6 had programmed. The ride was long, making room for a decent meditation, but all the while, Sarah sensed something at the back of her mind, a little thorn of premonition that she didn’t know if she should interpret as good or bad. She held onto it, knowing it wouldn’t be a surprise if it affected the mission on Ryloth in some way.

On the way, Sarah received a set of coordinates from Tech that marked the spot where she’d land, bringing her out of her meditation as she assumed she’d be close. Surely enough, the premonition she’d felt made sense the moment the Y-Wing emerged from hyperspace.

She felt him, saw his piercing brown eyes and the way his rifle rested on his shoulder.

And she gasped, reaching for her comm as she entered Ryloth’s atmosphere, dialing Hunter’s frequency.

“Hunter, I’m here,” Sarah said.

“Yeah,” he replied. “We’re at the landing spot. Sarah—”

“Hunter, Crosshair’s here,” she spoke with a blend of hope and dread, knowing the implications of his presence near the batch.

“Yeah, we saw him,” Hunter replied, his voice low, far more filled with dread than he wanted to admit.

“Wait, you saw him?” She asked.

“From a distance, but yeah,” said Hunter. “Sarah, I don’t like this. I don’t think we can do much here.”

“Hang on, let’s not jump to any conclusions,” Sarah comforted him. “Let me land and we’ll talk it out when I’m there.”

She hurried over to the coordinates and landed her ship gracefully beside the familiar Marauder, taking notice of the squad just outside of the chip standing in front of a young, green-skinned twi’lek girl.

Still, Sarah was the center of attention when she emerged from the ship and got down using its ladder while R6 hopped himself out and landed beside her using his thrusters to break his fall, and the two walked over to the troopers and the children.

“Wanna fill me in?” Sarah walked up to Hunter, brushing his hand softly, instantly taking notice of the heaviness of his gaze.

“This is Hera,” Omega spoke. “She’s the one who asked for our help.”

Sarah looked over at Hera and gave her a soft smile, and the young girl looked back with curiosity at Sarah’s eyes and marks, but that gleam was shadowed by the weight on her mind, one Sarah could sense.

“What can we help you with?” Sarah asked.

“My parents and uncle are being held captive in the capitol,” Hera responded. “I… I need your help to get them out. I don’t trust the Empire and I can’t stand the thought of them being hurt.”

Sarah exchanged looks with Echo, who visibly wanted to help the kid and her family as much as he could. When Sarah’s eyes landed on Hera again, she noticed the child was giving her a faint smile, and eyeing the Y-Wing back and forth.

“That’s a beautiful ship,” Hera said. “You’re so lucky to be its pilot.”

Sarah gave her a soft smile. “Thanks.”

Sarah took a couple of steps toward the child and kneeled in front of her the way she would when talking to Omega, and she mustered her most trusting look in hopes of cheering Hera up a bit.

“You know, if you’re into flying, maybe one day you can have a ship of your own too,” Sarah said.

Hera gave a light chuckle. “That’s the dream.”

Sarah got back up and faced Hunter, walking toward him and gently pulling him by the wrist to lead him away from the others, heading all the way under the Y-Wing to talk more privately.

“How bad is it?” She asked him. “Tell me the truth, I can practically see the dread floating around you.”

Hunter sighed. “I know you want to get Crosshair.”

“But?”

“But there are far too many imperial troops here too,” Hunter said. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“That sounds nothing like you,” Sarah argued.

“It’s everything like me,” Hunter said back. “Sarah, I have to keep you all safe. I won’t make a decision that’ll put us all in danger. None of us know the place enough to make a decent plan—”

“Hera does,” Sarah answered. “And you’re forgetting that my first battle in the war was here.”

Hunter remained quiet, looking away from her.

“You’re not afraid of the Empire,” her tone softened, even though hints of indignation crept into her voice. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“What?” He asked her.

“You don’t want to deal with Crosshair,” Sarah accused. “Hunter, we’re being handed yet another chance at getting him back on the palm of our hands and you’re really telling me we’re going to choose to leave him again?”

“You haven’t seen the amount of troops at the capital, not to mention their cannons and the refinery,” Hunter said. “We didn’t stand a chance on Bracca and we don’t stand a chance now.”

“If what you say is true, then we should have gotten him back on Bracca,” Sarah said. “I mean, if what matters is few troops, then we should have done it when we could. Do you think at one point we’re going to run into him alone, stun him, and be done with it? We can’t count on it being easy, Hunter. We plan, we weigh the risks, we fight.”

“Not if it’s the last thing we do,” Hunter shook his head.

“Crosshair would do that and more for any of us—”

“Crosshair shot you!” Hunter couldn’t help but raise his voice, its gravel shaking alongside his whole frame as he lowered his tone. “He shot Wrecker back on Kamino. He ignited an ion engine on us. We barely survived, Sarah.”

“Wrecker choked you,” Sarah argued. “He did the same to me and he broke my wrist. He left Tech and Echo unconscious. Why aren’t you mad at him?”

“Because Wrecker doesn’t have the chip anymore—” Hunter cut himself off and huffed, walking off and leaning on the Y-Wing’s front landing gear, rubbing his forehead.

At that moment, Sarah’s features softened into sadness as she stared at her Guardian as the realization set in.

“Gods…” She said, barely above a whisper. “You’re not angry. You’re terrified of him.”

Hunter sighed. “Yeah. Every time we’ve met him since the war ended, at least one of us comes too close to… I cannot put you, any of you, in harm’s way.”

She walked up to him and delicately set her hands on his arms, turning him around to face her. Sarah rested a hand on his cheek, cupping his jaw, and finally, his brown eyes fell on hers. Before she could say anything, the sound of two different types of beeps and chirps filled the outpost, drawing their attention to R6 jumping as a white and orange astromech seemed to challenge him, until eventually R6 hastily rolled over towards Sarah and pressed himself up to her leg like a pup.

Sarah softly pet the top of R6’s chassis and knelt beside him, calming him down enough to finally look back at Hunter while, in the background, Hera called out her own astromech for his impoliteness towards R6. When Sarah got up again, she took Hunter’s hand, her anger fading completely as she gained comprehension of her Guardian’s point of view.

“I won’t tell you I don’t understand,” Sarah spoke softly. “Look, maybe we should time out, think about this.”

Hunter couldn’t bring himself to speak, but he nodded slowly in agreement to her, softening when she perked up to kiss his cheek. Sarah then backed up and faced R6 again, giving him a little smile.

“How about you show Hera the Y-Wing?” She suggested.

R6 whined, hesitant, fearing the wrath of the astromech known as Chopper.

“I’ll deal with the tin can,” Sarah winked. “Now go.”

Before Sarah could walk off after her astromech, Hunter hurried toward her and took her good wrist, pulling her in for a warm, loving kiss. Even the unexpected nature of the kiss wouldn’t put her off, and once the surprise faded, Sarah sank into the kiss and wrapped her arms around him, even brushing her fingers through some of his curls.

“I love you too,” Sarah smiled softly as she pulled away from the kiss. “Now let me make sure Hera’s astromech doesn’t scare R6 again.”

Hunter smiled back and watched as she walked away, his smile eventually fading, still lost on how in the galaxy he could keep her happy and keep the squad safe at the same time.

Time went by silently; it hadn’t been too long, but for everyone it felt eternal. Sarah’s idea to let Hera wander around the Y-Wing eventually brought them all out of that stillness, when the squad inside the Marauder was approached by an optimistic Omega and a shy Hera, who pitched a well-formed tactical plan to infiltrate the capitol and free Hera’s parents.

To Sarah’s surprise, Hunter agreed.

While she was proud of him for trusting Omega and for opting to do the right thing and save Hera’s parents, a part of Sarah had wanted Crosshair to come up at some point in the plan. Alas, he didn’t.

Quietly, Sarah removed all the ammunition she’d carried from Ord Mantell from the Y-Wing and went over the ship’s proton torpedo ammunition, with her back turned on the rest of the squad as she prepared for her role in the plan. She sensed Hunter approaching, his steps slow and cautious.

She knew he could sense how she felt.

“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked her.

Sarah still didn’t look at him, her hands clenching the ladder of the Y-Wing.

“I thought you wanted us to infiltrate the capitol,” Hunter continued.

“Yeah,” Sarah said. “It’s a good plan. Hera’s a smart kid.” She finally turned around. “What I couldn’t help but notice is you agreed to save complete strangers before saving your brother.”

“Sarah, we know the brig won’t be very heavily guarded,” Hunter said. “Crosshair will still be surrounded by troops. He knows we’re here. He’ll expect us, and there’s no way we can safely approach him.”

The last thing Sarah wanted was to be angry at Hunter, but she couldn’t pretend she was okay with saving the Syndulla family whilst completely neglecting Crosshair.

“I promise you,” Hunter approached her. “If the opportunity comes up, we’ll get Crosshair. Otherwise, we’ll put more effort into tracking him. Make a plan where we actually have the element of surprise and take advantage of it.”

She looked up at him, unable to speak anymore. She supposed she could take his words; they were far better than nothing, better than having him admit he held a grudge against Crosshair.

“Let me come with you, then,” Sarah proposed. “If we find him anywhere, it’ll be inside the capitol. We’ll have better chances of getting to him if I’m there.”

“We need you in air support,” Hunter added. “You brought the Y-Wing already, let’s take advantage of it. You could really do some damage to the refinery with this.”

Sarah smirked, thinking of what a beauty those torpedoes would cause. “I know.”

“You have my word, Sarah,” Hunter held her shoulders. “I won’t deviate from this plan because the risks are too high, but if Crosshair and I run into each other, I’ll bring him back.”

She felt herself release the tension as she looked up at Hunter again, her eyes big and gleaming with gratitude.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Hunter pulled her in for a hug. “Fly safe, pilot.”

She smiled into his armor. “You be careful too.”

Hunter pulled back to look at her and planted a soft kiss, mustering his love for her, and with that kiss, he told her how much he trusted her, how much he couldn’t wait for the mission to be over so that he could hold her in his arms again.

With a smile, Sarah saw him off and she climbed into the Y-Wing, powering its engines up, reveling in the familiar whirring of its engines, a sound that gave her power. Before flying off in the refinery’s direction, Sarah took one more look at the outpost, feeling the strange premonition once more.

Flying forward, she chose to have faith.

*

When the sun went down on Ryloth, Hera and Omega had to improvise a part of their plan to deactivate the automatic cannons protecting the refinery, but once that was done, Sarah and Tech had the go-ahead to fly in over the refinery and begin with the plan’s next phase.

Hunter and Echo needed a diversion to safely get inside the capitol, and that would be exactly what Sarah would help provide.

“Ladies first,” Tech told Sarah through the comms.

“You’re only being so polite because my ship’s faster,” Sarah teased.

“Now, now, my darling,” Tech’s smirk was audible. “You should know better than to underestimate the Marauder in my hands. I do, however, long to see these flight skills you go on and on about.”

Hidden among the thin clouds, Sarah set the Y-Wing’s controls to their attack mode, a little smile creeping on her lips.

“Ready, Rigel?” Sarah asked.

Oh? OH! MASTER SARAH JUST GAVE ME A NAME! LOVE FOR SARAH!

Sarah chuckled at his happy chirping. “Alright, I’m glad you like it. Now hang on tight!”

You got it, boss!

Pushing the steering levers forward, Sarah increased the Y-Wing’s thrust and tilted the nose down over the refinery, falling at a sharp angle increasing speed at a constant rate. With Rigel’s excited chirps in the background, the ship fell until it got close enough for Sarah to launch the first torpedo, which landed square on one of the cannons.

She tilted the nose up to change the angle just before flying over the refinery, and she used the ship’s inertia for it to keep gliding left with the chassis tilted right, allowing her to make a curve along the refinery as she bombed its outer facilities before finally flying upwards again.

She’d have to gain altitude again to repeat a stunt like that one, but so far, that part of the plan had gone off to a good start.

“How was that?” Sarah wiggled her head as she spoke into the comm.

“Sexy,” Tech replied.

“Hey, Sarah!” Wrecker’s voice came in. “Leave some for me!”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you high and dry, Wrecker,” Sarah said as she climbed again and rolled to change direction and head for the refinery again.

As she flew back down towards the refinery, she watched as Tech turned the Marauder 180° mid air to later drift it sideways, giving Wrecker a clear shot of the cannons. The maneuver Tech had just pulled off was far more difficult and impressive than whatever Sarah had just done; she gawked at the sight, laughing in awe and disbelief as Tech and Wrecker became responsible for a large series of explosions in the refinery.

“I win,” Tech’s voice came via the comm.

“You have got to teach me how to do that,” Sarah grinned widely.

“Is that seriously the only comment you have on the matter?” Tech prompted.

“All I know is you’ve got some skilled hands,” Sarah purred as she dropped another load of bombs onto the refinery.

“That seems accurate.”

“Please stop the dirty talk!” Wrecker yelled.

Sarah laughed as she made another climb, but her excitement faded when her vision blurred for a bit and she sensed a shift in the Force, a change in the decision of one of the two men binded to her by the Force.

Crosshair...

She saw him hesitating before he boarded his shuttle, looking around at the many ships that abandoned the capitol, glaring at the main doorway were the people he knew had infiltrated the capitol would make their exit.

“Sarah?” Tech asked. “You fell quiet.”

“Something’s up,” she said and shifted the Y-Wing from attack mode into something that would prove stealthy. “I’m heading to the capitol.”

“Is something wrong?” Tech inquired, an edge of alarm glazing his voice.

“Not if I get there in time,” Sarah said.

“Go,” Tech replied. “Wrecker and I can take it from here—”

Static replaced Tech’s voice, and when Sarah tried and failed to get the signal back on, it was evident that their comms had been jammed. Still, Tech had given her the green light to go to the capitol, and if comms were being jammed then she had to be extra careful. She flew the Y-Wing within the rising pillars of stone, landing it near one of the capitol’s most abandoned edges.

In the corners of her mind, Sarah got another vision. Crosshair had changed his mind again, and instead of keeping watch of the doorway from a chosen balcony, he was now headed towards the entrance where Sarah was, having left the rest of his squadron in charge of not letting the others escape.

She thought quickly. Perhaps, now that she was going to run into Crosshair, she could stun him, leave him in the Y-Wing, and catch up to Hunter. Still, comms were down, and it would be easier for them to lose than to find each other if both were in movement. The fact remained that Hunter had to be warned of the trap that was awaiting him.

Sarah looked down at the ground, at the familiar reddish sand that covered Ryloth’s surface, and she knelt. With her good palm flat on the ground, feeling the vibrations of the soil and the stories that it told, Sarah asked for the earth to help her intentions reach Hunter so that he could know to change directions and get out safely.

As soon as she felt her intent come through, her gaze snapped up when she felt Crosshair nearby, and surely enough, the sealed doorway in the middle of the wall that covered the capitol began to creak as it opened for the first time after ages of being closed. Its towering door disappeared behind the walls, and from it emerged a sole figure, tall, lean, dark, covered by a helmet, carrying a rifle.

She faced him head on, and he stared back.

“Crosshair…” Sarah spoke.

He remained silent, immobilized meters between her and the door. The quiet night let the breeze be the only sound between them as they stared at one another, until finally, Crosshair dropped his rifle in front of him and ran over to Sarah.

Instantly, she felt her feet carrying towards him, until with open arms, she leapt onto him and let him carry her, spinning her around before setting her feet back on the ground and wrapping his arms fully around her. Sarah scurried to remove his helmet from him, and she gasped when she saw him, dropping the helmet onto the ground as her left hand went to the right side of his head to delicately brush his skin.

The burn from Bracca had left a nasty scar along the right side of his head, and he’d had to have his beautiful silver hair shaved off for treatment. Her features saddened at the fact that he’d gone through it alone, that he’d been so hurt, that he’d been through so much.

Crosshair took her hand from his scar and brought it down to his jaw, his eyes meeting hers, softer than she’d ever seen them, so soft that her heart broke. Sarah let her arms travel around his shoulders, and without hesitating, she crashed her lips onto his, feeling as the heat coursed through her marks and her entire body as she kissed him, her chest aching when he kissed her back.

Then, the sound of engines whirring interrupted their kiss, and the two drove their gazes to the sky, watching a luxury shuttle emerging from the capitol.

Sarah knew Hunter was on that ship, and Crosshair knew it too. Both stared at the shuttle with completely different emotions, but Crosshair looked down at Sarah, realizing she wasn’t with them, that she was in his arms, looking back at him.

Just as Sarah began tugging on Crosshair to take him back to the Y-Wing, an array of blinding bright lights came on, illuminating the entire area and snapping her and Crosshair’s attention back to the entrance he’d come from, revealing a legion of troopers led by the rest of his dark-armored, elite squad.

They were far too many for Sarah to have a chance, and even though she’d taken Hunter’s words to heart, she’d also realized what he’d meant whenever he insisted that running into a legion of imperial troopers would have them trapped.

She wouldn’t escape.

Sarah brought her comm up to her lips, the signal now back.

“Rigel, take the ship.”

Not without you, boss!

“No, listen to me, they’re not going to let me go, and if I get in the Y-Wing now, we’re both goners,” she said. “Take the ship, and tell Hunter I’m sorry.”

But, Sarah…

“I’ll be fine, buddy,” she looked over at the astromech, still in Crosshair’s arms. “Go, brag about your new name to everyone. I’ll find a way back.”

With no more protest, the R6 unit took control of the Y-Wing and lifted it off, heading towards the rendezvous point where the others would safely meet. Crosshair had also watched the Y-Wing drift off into the distance, until at last, he looked at Sarah again, meeting her eyes with confusion.

“You could have gone,” he said.

Sarah slowly shook her head, brushing his cheek. “I’m not leaving you, Crosshair. Not this time.”

Crosshair still looked confused as to Sarah’s decision, but his grip on her tightened, and finally, his gaze fell on the diamonds that dangled between her breasts. His features finally softened in adoration, so much that he would have kissed her again had it not been for his three troopers approaching him and Sarah.

Sarah noticed the way Crosshair tightened his arms around her even more when the troopers reached them, his body slightly shielding her from them.

“She needs to be taken captive,” spoke ES-04, the voice which Sarah was able to recognize.

“She’s not a threat,” Crosshair replied.

“They’re orders, commander,” ES-02 insisted, her hands already carrying the cuffs destined for Sarah.

“Cross, it’s okay,” Sarah said. “I know what I’m getting into.”

The blue-eyed trooper approached Sarah ready to cuff her when Crosshair took the cuffs from her and turned his back on the squad, facing Sarah and taking her hands. If she had to be cuffed, he insisted on being the one to do it, and as he secured the durasteel around her wrists, careful with the cast, his brown eyes stared into her colorful ones with a hint of softness.

“You shouldn’t have stayed,” he said.

“I’m here now,” she answered. “And I’m not going to leave without you this time.”

His eyes remained the same, but Sarah noticed that his lips gave the faintest twitch, a ghost of a smile wanting to appear on those beautiful lips she’d always long to kiss. Finally, Crosshair was done securing the cuffs in front of her and he bent down to reach for his helmet, placing it back on as he faced the squad again.

“I’ll take her to the admiral,” ES-02 began.

“I will be the one to do that,” Crosshair straightened, his posture and his voice commanding power and respect as he turned to ES-04. “Ensure the traitors are imprisoned.”

“Yes, commander,” she replied as Crosshair reached to grab Sarah by the wrist and led her into the capitol.

As they walked past the squad, Sarah felt the judgmental gazes of ES-02 and 03, looking over her shoulder at them with a hard gaze, asserting her place in the matter. At least, it seemed like the trooper with the flamethrower maintained the same respect and even kindness she had once shown, and Sarah wouldn’t let the Empire shadow a person’s will to be empathic.

But as she was led by Crosshair into the capitol, she felt the gazes of countless other troopers, soldiers who she once would have fought beside, but who were now helping the rise of the tyranny of the Empire, all against their will. None of them spoke, none of them held any personality; it was all a tense silence as she traversed into the capitol, held closely by Crosshair.

They had to take a shuttle to the ruined refinery where the fires hadn’t even been fully put out yet and, quietly, Sarah and Crosshair walked up behind the admiral’s figure looming over the refinery, staring at the destruction of his own project.

Sarah couldn’t help but feel proud.

Rampart turned around, his gaze unkind on Sarah.

“You must never tire of causing such destruction,” he said.

She gave him a fake smile. “This one in particular was quite fun.”

Rampart slowly paced towards her and Crosshair as the trooper removed his helmet, momentarily looking at the commander and at the cuffs around her wrists.

“Well done capturing her, commander,” Rampart said. “Where are the others?”

His strong gaze faltered, drifting to the ground for a fraction of a second before regaining his composure. “They left.”

“Hm. No matter, we have enough with this one.”

Crosshair’s wrist tightened on Sarah.

“Look around you, admiral,” Sarah said. “Two pilots did this, against your whole facility. You don’t stand a chance.”

“I see your wrist is wounded,” Rampart retaliated, ignoring her provocations.

“I’m still only human,” Sarah responded blankly.

“And yet, you’re alive,” Rampart looked at Crosshair, “when I gave the order for you to be terminated. How did that happen, commander?”

“Hey, look at me,” Sarah growled and got Rampart’s attention, pulling her blouse down to reveal the scar over her heart. “Marks are blue now. The blast hit. He followed your order.”

Sarah and Rampart stared at each other like age-old nemesi.

“Don’t you dare touch him,” she said coldly.

Rampart’s gaze on her was equally frigid. “How very interesting that Order 66 overlooked you, but no matter. I shall see what to do with you when I get an audience withTarkin, and perhaps the emperor himself.”

Rampart then looked at Crosshair again, his features softening slightly in satisfaction. “You’re off the hook, commander. It seems that, time and again, I underestimate your former squad. Take this one to Kamino in the meantime.”

Crosshair returned the gaze. “I request permission to hunt them down.”

She looked at him in bitter awe, hearing the last words she expected him to say, and her repulsion towards the idea only hastened the admiral’s decision. He considered the possibilities, found himself pleased by all of them, and finally meeting the commander’s eyes again, gave a nod of affirmation.

“Granted.”

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @nunanuggets @rexandechosandwich @purgetrooperfox @redheadgirl @coffeyorky @zoeykallus @sageislostinspring @dangerousstrawberrypie @salaminus @ladykatakuri @seriowan @rain-on-kamino @prozacspice @eyecandyeoz

[shimmersing]

Constellation

Part One | Part Two | Interlude | Part Three

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Gen Relationships: Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor/Male Republic Trooper, Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor/Republic Trooper Characters: Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Qyzen Fess, Yuon Par, Parkanas Tark-Lord Vivicar Additional Tags: Angst, Tython, Emotional, Mentioned Mutual Pining, Fluffy, Sad, Melancholy Returning to Tython after shielding the last master suffering from Vivicar’s Force plague, Aitahea is faced with more struggle in her efforts to heal the Order and keep the Force in balance. Tired, injured, and longing for someone she can’t have, perhaps ever, the lines of her responsibility as a Jedi and her own convictions begin to blur. As Aitahea nears the end of her quest to save Yuon Par and the other Jedi Masters, she’s confronted with painful revelations and answers that only give rise to more questions. Shouldering the lives and minds of Jedi across the galaxy – alone – may prove to be more than Aitahea can bear.

Part Three

AN: I highly recommend you read Impending, a once-upon-a-oneshot that snuggles right into Constellation here, between parts two and three. Enjoy!

May the Force be with you.

Standing in the airlock, Aitahea let the echo of Erithon’s voice roll over and through her, like she might flow through saber stances during practice. Six syllables, like the spiral of a breath, a last sigh of hope to cling to in her fierce exhaustion and anguished determination.

It was the first time they’d spoken since Alderaan; everything else had been missed calls and quickly dashed-off messages. She’d mentioned her return to Tython, but not her weariness, loneliness, or how since leaving Alderaan, the only dream she’d remembered on waking was of him, humming Star by Star and stroking her hair. As far-flung as they’d been, she had doubted he’d see her injuries in a grainy holo.

Instead, she’d simply listened.

Erithon’s mother and sister had given him no end to their questions about the “princess” - as his youngest niece had gleefully declared - having seen their gala appearance splashed across the holonet. He’d explained with proud reticence that he had been harassed into calling to say hello for them, but he hoped she was doing well, of course.

See-Too had whirred politely in the common room entryway, a subtle warning that the other crew had begun stirring in response to their arrival. Aitahea had gently interrupted Erithon a final time, thanking him for calling, but she was needed urgently. He’d nodded, evidently used to the same, and then… “May the Force be with you.” She hadn’t even had a chance to reply, to wish him the same, before the call had disconnected, and she’d been alone again in the dark.

Minutes later, the Luminous had docked to Vivicar’s stolen ship, though Sia had only done so under protest.

“I don’t fucking like this, Ai.”

“There’s no other way, Sia. I trust you to keep the Luminous safe.”

“Yeah, me too, but what about you?”

Aitahea had pressed her lips into a tight line and turned away from her friend, unable to offer anything more to assuage Sia’s concern or her own guilt. The Progress had made all reports on time, presumably under Lord Vivicar’s control, so no one in the wider Republic knew that anything was awry.

Qyzen had refused to let her board alone, though she’d helplessly argued for it. They both knew she was still healing, only maintaining the shielding by a hair’s breadth. Vivicar’s ruinous intrusion on the ritual had done more damage than Aitahea had been willing to acknowledge. Sia had muttered under her breath something about needing to get a kolto tank installed in the med bay.

The Progress was shrouded in flickering darkness, the black of deep space. The stars still glittered, but coldly, distantly. Aitahea wasn’t certain what they’d find on board; there were many lives, but they writhed beneath a shadow grown powerful. Qyzen waited beside her as the airlock cycled to admit them to the hijacked ship.

The first rush of soldiers took her off guard; she flinched at the sight of Republic insignias below fevered eyes and slack faces. A growled warning from Qyzen brought her back to the task of disabling them with as little harm as possible.

It all horrified her, this perversion of so many things she held dear. The horrible stain of the dark side flowed on the ship and everyone aboard. She could barely hold it in check, growing steadily more vulnerable as her shielding was meticulously assaulted.

Vivicar was blessedly silent until Aitahea reached the first computer console. When he finally spoke, it was like being plunged into dark water. The consular reeled, fighting to keep her fingers on the control panel and not digging into her own temples.

I wasn’t sure if you’d be foolish enough to come aboard, Aitahea. But I can sense your presence.

Aitahea swallowed hard against a wave of nausea. “And I sense a man tormented by the past.”

You are blinded by the light side. You can’t understand what you face.

Biting back a sharp retort, Aitahea shoved away from the console – she didn’t possess the necessary slicing skill to coax open the blast doors from there. She could cut her way through the thick durasteel with her lightsaber, but time felt too precious.

Nearby were a few barrels, each with a combustion risk label splashed across it. She could fling them into the door using the Force, but it would be violent and destructive.

Oddly, Aitahea found she didn’t mind that so much right now and lifted a hand. The explosion was terrific, throwing back her hood. The wave of heat quickly grew so intense Aitahea had to shield herself and Qyzen until it abated.

As they stepped through the hissing, superheated breach, Vivicar’s voice echoed in a hateful thrum. Come to me, Jedi. I’ll show you how light can be snuffed out.

Aitahea swayed briefly, closing her eyes. There was no part of her that wasn’t in anguish. If this wasn’t already snuffed out, what could possibly be worse? She felt alarmingly close to knowing exactly what.

May the Force be with you.

It was Erithon’s voice this time, no tainted whispers, just her own beautiful memory. A light in the dark. She could follow that through this horrific present; through anything, perhaps. Aitahea opened her eyes, signaled her companion, and forged ahead.

Most of the unwitting fighters in their path could be stopped with a Force wave, tumbling them unconscious but mostly unharmed to the floor; but the squad leaders would be hardier – she knew from experience.

The first squad leader, a hulking being of indeterminate origin, was waiting for them at the first intersection, alone. The soldier didn’t fall for Qyzen’s feint and instead hoisted his cannon toward Aitahea, spraying cryogenic fluid. She flicked it away, readying her lightsaber to deflect any shots from the holdout blaster she knew he’d be hiding.

Qyzen shifted into an effortless and decisive strike, taking advantage of a seam in the trooper’s armor. Aitahea shuddered, feeling the soldier’s perception flare out, leaving nothing but gleeful darkness seething in every shadow.

“Herald?”

“I’m fine,” she bit out. “Let’s proceed.”

After navigating a few more hallways, they located the secondary computer terminal. She’d barely set her fingers to the keypad when Vivicar splintered her thoughts.

Tell me, Aitahea, what was it like? Letting your life force drain away to shield a stranger from me - how did it feel?

Aitahea frowned at her suddenly balled-up fists, unclenching and resettling her fingers on the keys before replying. “Painful, but I endured it.”

Pain makes us stronger. And the pain I have endured is beyond your comprehension.

That is why I have won.

Her throat seized, but even after swallowing hard, no words came to her, all her skillful, diplomatic platitudes absent.

“Hunt is not over until beast is skinned, dark thing,” Qyzen rumbled. The console began blaring a klaxon warning, and droids began pouring into the room.

You will understand soon. If you live that long.

“Your power and tactics have brought you this far, but no further.”

Until now, Aitahea had imagined Parkanas Tark as a youth, bright with potential and the Force. But the being that turned to face her as she dragged herself toward the bridge was aged, wretched, and twisted by the dark side.

“This battle was decided before you stepped aboard.”

“I’m tired of your delusions,” Aitahea hissed, past exhaustion and numb with pain. “Explain yourself.”

Vivicar gave her a mocking bow. “As you wish. My plague isn’t just a disease; it siphons power from its victims. With the proper rituals, that power can be channeled. Soon, the combined strength of your Masters will make me the most powerful Force adept who has ever lived.”

The pressure against her shielding intensified, thousands of threads – lives, she realized – suddenly pulled taut. Trembling with the strain, Aitahea took a step forward. She hadn’t come here to bicker; she’d come here to help.

“Turn away from this path, Parkanas. The Order can help you.”

Vivicar laughed.

“Oh, Aitahea.” This time, she visibly flinched when he used her name. “Parkanas Tark died long ago. Even ‘Vivicar’ is merely a skin to be shed. Parkanas offered himself to me on Malachor Three, to crush the Order that destroyed us. He embodied my spirit.” He lifted his hands, a seething glow thick with the dark side writhing around him. “I am no lost Jedi, no ordinary Sith Lord. I am Terrak Morrhage.”

“You can turn away from this path, Parkanas,” she beseeched, fumbling for words while he stalked toward her. “The Order can help you. Just… just come home.”

“No one can oppose me, certainly no child, barely more than a Padawan.” He grinned, ghoulish and without remorse as he ignited his lightsaber. “I am beyond flesh… beyond death!”

Aitahea realized tears were slipping from her eyes, her vision blurring. She was so tired. “No one is beyond the will of the Force,” she whispered, uncertain who the platitude was meant for.

Morrhage laughed again, a sound like plasteel shredding. “I will crush you, Aitahea, and your shattered body will fuel my rebirth!”

For a fleeting moment, she thought of running. Simply turning about, dashing to the safety of the Luminous. She questioned the choice she’d made on Tython, to come here carrying so many injuries, so much guilt and fear. Should she have stayed to heal? She remembered what the Noetikon of Secrets had explained, that the Jedi Master who had created the shielding technique had given his life to end Morrhage’s first plague. Was Morrhage right? Had the light blinded her?

Aitahea took a breath.

The light didn’t blind. Light revealed, left no shadows to hide in. Light nourished; light gave everything yet lost nothing. Light was right now in this moment, not in the past, and would always be in reach in the future. If light called, light would answer.

Aitahea called out.

“Parkanas! I know you are there; I sense you!” Morrhage ignored her outcry, continuing to advance. Aitahea sucked in a breath, ignited her lightsaber, and took a defensive stance. “Help me stop this monster, Parkanas, please!”

Morrhage attacked with spectacular brutality, thousands of years of rage and hatred against Aitahea’s weakened shielding, against her physical self. The Jedi parried and dodged, evading strikes she couldn’t hope to block. Qyzen Fess did what he could to aid her, but Morrhage was fixated on Aitahea. Her body quailed under the assault, shredding her determination. There must be another way…

Morrhage’s next attack struck true, and Aitahea lost a few moments to fiery agony searing across her left side. Reckless with pain, she flung out a wild, violent Force wave that sent Morrhage to the floor and left several nearby panels crushed beyond recognition. A few precious seconds passed while she waited, panting, for her vision to clear.

The fallen Jedi, the false Sith lord, struggled to his knees, glaring death toward Aitahea as she approached.

“Impressive, Aitahea, but my victory is already complete. My plague has spread farther than you can imagine. Jedi Masters across the galaxy are succumbing to it as I speak. The plague binds these Masters to me. Hundreds of them… the heart and soul of your order.

“You feel it, do you not, Aitahea?”

No lies this time; Aitahea could indeed feel the mingled torment of hundreds more Jedi as Morrhage siphoned their lives for strength. Every crack in her shielding, down to the smallest hairline fracture, screamed in agony.

“Kill me, and you will kill every Master I have ever infected. Every one! Shielded or not, they are still bound to me.”

Aitahea dispassionately placed the blade of her lightsaber at his throat. It felt like someone else doing it. She spoke in clipped tones, her voice unrecognizable in her own ears. “Free those Jedi, Morrhage. Now.”

“And if I refuse? Will you cut us down? What choice do you have? You cannot let me live, and I am deathless.” Morrhage leered, his dark victory seemingly assured, and took one more jab: “Your shielding talent cannot harm me. You’ve lost!”

Everything went silent and impossibly still. Your shielding talent cannot harm me. Of course not. It was never meant to harm, only to heal, to offer a path toward the light that anyone could take at any time, without judgement, without conditions, just… a welcome home. The path that she’d longed for, that she’d tried to circumvent over and over, a path she could not offer until she, too, chose it.

Aitahea lowered her arm and deactivated her lightsaber. “I can save you, Parkanas.”

Morrhage reeled back as Aitahea drew the Force around her. The effort would not be without risk, but it was the path that lay before her. Another stillness enfolded her, this time of peace, willingness, and release. Fighting had never been her forte or focus; she was a healer, with words and hands and her lightsaber only when absolutely, undeniably necessary.

Now, she isn’t simply performing the shielding ritual; she is part of it, wholly within and throughout, a numinous space that feels like a Coruscant ocean, like the forests of Tython, like warm sun and a hand to hold on Brentaal, all at once.

Now, she realizes how to bring it full circle; she must allow the Force its will, stop trying to control it, and just let go. Light spills through the cracks in her shielding, and everything is suddenly and wonderfully illuminated.

May the Force be with you.

Parkanas – and it was with every certainty him; the sudden burst of hope where none had been the moment before was unmistakable – went flying backwards, away from Aitahea and leaving the vulnerable spirit of Morrhage isolated before her.

The spirit howled in fury. “No, this body is mine! Damn you, Jedi!”

Aitahea noted with detached amusement that she was levitating, Morrhage’s furious tirade a soft rumble in the background. She felt untethered, undefinably light. Closing her eyes, Aitahea exhaled a long breath and stepped softly down to the floor.

“When my strength returns, no matter the years – I will destroy you,” Morrhage snarled, but Aitahea was already walking toward Parkanas, feeling her own strength returning. She brushed past the raging specter, and in a few more moments, it had disappeared.

Qyzen had already lifted Parkanas Tark to his feet. He had a hand to his head, and Aitahea allowed a thread of sympathy to unwind, a guide to the path she hoped he would be able to take, too.

Parkanas Tark stared at her with open disbelief. “I’m… still alive. You spared me.”

She half-smiled. “Healed you.”

“My mind is…” Parkanas shook his head again. “Clearer now. But – it was your duty to kill me and destroy Morrhage.” His eyes – still smoldering amber, revealing a bitter internal strife – begged for an answer. Why?

“Too many Jedi have been lost already.” Aitahea lowered her gaze, the barest of brief moments to grieve for those lost. “Including Parkanas Tark.”

“Perhaps he deserves another chance, but…” Parkanas’ voice trailed off, adding in a pained whisper, “I cannot return to the Order.”

Swallowing hard against the lump in her own throat, Aitahea pressed. “Tython has its hidden places. Its forests.” That half-smile danced across her lips again, and for a flickering moment, she was light years away. “You could find peace there.”

“I could… go home.” Parkanas grew still, eyes distant and filled with evergreen leaves and rushing water. After a moment, he startled, reaching out to grasp her hands. “But first, Jedi, listen. Take this warning in exchange for my life: You can’t trust the Order. Or the Republic.” Aitahea drew breath to contradict, but he continued. “You may be their heroine now, but they will abandon you, too.”

Aitahea pulled away from Parkanas’ frantic grip, shaking her head while she scrabbled for a coherent thought. “Why…What do you-” Nothing coalesced, leaving her once again a diplomat with no words.

Parkanas held her gaze. “Remember that.”

“We felt it! A massive shift in the Force. The Masters you saved have reported a sudden improvement in their condition. The plague is over, thanks to you.

“And… I sense Parkanas Tark. For the first time in many years. How can that be?”

Aitahea nodded at Master Syo and glanced sidelong toward Parkanas, who was being assessed by Tharan and Holiday. “You can ask him yourself, Master. When he returns to Tython, he can answer all your questions.”

Her companions had dashed through the ship as soon as she’d signaled their safety. Bringing medical equipment to help with the injured and traumatized crew, Prelsiava Tern had even dragged along a protesting See-Two.

“I told you there’d be plenty for you to do; look at that console! It’s completely trashed! Go on, get on it,” Sia had ordered, and the affronted droid had conceded, tottering over to examine one of the smashed panels.

With the logistics managed, and a scant few moments to tuck away the memory of Parkanas’ unsettling words, Aitahea had commed the Council, Master Syo answering with his victorious statement: We felt it!

“Well done, Aitahea. The Jedi Order owes its survival to you.”

Relief swept over her like a wave. “It’s my privilege to serve.”

“Hurry home. We’re waiting for you.”

Aitahea felt nearly presentable again by the time they arrived on Tython. She’d had her injuries treated. She’d eaten and bathed. She’d slept, mostly dreamless but for dappled sunlight and burbling water.

As they touched down on Tython, Aitahea marveled at the incandescent radiance of the Force within the hallowed walls of the Jedi Temple. Each Jedi shone like a bright star, a constellation she’d missed terribly beneath the weight of the shielding. Even Qyzen shimmered, kindling with satisfaction and pride. Beneath all, the grand symphony of Tython itself soared.

In the Council chamber, Master Yuon, Master Syo, Master Satele, and Master Jaric were waiting. Schooling her expression into practiced serenity, Aitahea dropped into a bow, only lifting her gaze when Yuon spoke.

“You have saved untold lives through your defeat of Lord Vivicar and destruction of the plague.” Aitahea felt Yuon’s pride in every syllable.

Even Master Jaric was smiling. “There’s a title reserved for the most prestigious among us, whose wisdom and skill safeguard the galaxy. It hasn’t been bestowed in thousands of years.”

Aitahea became keenly aware of her flushed cheeks, suspended between delight and disbelief, and nodded in vague acknowledgment.

“You have proved worthy,” Master Syo declared. “Now, the Council names you Barsen’thor, warden of the Order.”

Absurdly, Aitahea’s thoughts turned to how much she’d enjoy reading about the other Barsen’thor that had preceded her. Would the archive even contain that knowledge? How many thousands of years? Who were they, who had they set out to be, and what had they done to arrive where Aitahea herself now stood? The Force bloomed with assurance. “I will do all I can to live up to this honor.” Aitahea clasped her hands, sweeping into a low obeisance.

“I never imagined your potential would take you so far.” Yuon beamed, and Aitahea returned the expression as she lifted her head.

Yet concern laced Master Syo’s next words: “And not a moment too soon. We have need of you. The Council has received word that the Republic is facing a new threat.”

“We need time to prepare a war council,” Satele clarified, much to Aitahea’s unspoken relief. “The Supreme Chancellor himself will be attending.”

“I stand ready, Master,” Aitahea assured.

Accepting her pledge with a nod, Syo nodded towards the doors. “Take time to record your journey in the Jedi archives. History must know of your actions.”

Aitahea blinked, more surprised at her own surprise than anything – of course there should be a record of the current Barsen’thor as well; that’s the first place to start, obviously – and almost missed Master Syo’s final words. “We will contact you when the war council is ready. For now, the entire Order will know that there is a new Barsen’thor among us.”

After a round of congratulations from each of the Masters, Aitahea and Qyzen left the Council chamber, ostensibly to bring her story to the archives.

“Scorekeeper smiles, Herald. Is great honor your people give you.” He gestured broadly, sending a few initiates scurrying out of the way. “Points beyond measure!”

Her heart sang with gratitude. She’d trusted him as her ally, her second, her friend; and he’d returned that trust hundredfold. Questioned and advised her, criticized and coddled her, but never judged her. Steadfast and patient, always. If what they had done brought points-beyond-measure to her, he’d have the larger portion by far. “We hunt together, my friend. Whatever my score, you share it.”

Qyzen paused, abruptly turning to face her. Traffic streamed around them; Temple life carried on. “Is… a noble thing you say. My thanks, Herald.”

“My thanks to you as well, Qyzen. Thank you for…” For protecting me? For challenging me? For warning and guiding and validating me? For seeing me when even I could not? “…for everything.”

“Must share the story of this hunt with your Order. It is good to share knowledge.”

Aitahea thought of the Noetikons, the immense value of them for so much beyond the lore and history of the Jedi. Even after becoming one with the Force, they had set alight a path for so many Jedi after, herself included. Like she might, generations from now.

Blinking back tears and knowing full well she couldn’t have hidden them if she’d wanted to, Aitahea smiled. “Then I must make yet another request of you: that you tell the story with me.”

Qyzen regarded her for a long moment, long enough that she began to fret that she’d somehow stumbled into an insult. “You are Scorekeeper’s Herald,” he said solemnly, “and you are true Jedi.”

Aitahea nodded, feeling and breathing and illuminating the Force around them.

“I’m home.”

Part One | Part Two | Interlude | Part Three

[balmasedas]

dearly departed. /

(gif is not mine).

PAIRING: din djarin x force sensitive!f-reader.

SUMMARY: au of 2x8 where reader exists instead of grogu (i'm sorry, baby).

WARNINGS: very slight description of torture, violence and blood. major angst.

WORD COUNT: 5k.

——————————————————————————

One day felt like a year.

A week onboard the light cruiser was hell and Moff Gideon was proven to be worse than the devil.

You’d barely slept and hunger constantly gripped your belly. You didn’t felt the urge to scream or to even beg for help, those instincts were long dead by now.

They were fascinated. A real Jedi or, at the very least, a live one, still yet to be properly trained (if you managed to survive this). So it wasn’t a surprise that because of their evil nature and in the name of “curiosity” you were obliged to use the Force until you fainted, over and over again. 

It was a tragedy. In search of what would’ve been your home, you had found one with Din Djarin; and now the memories you'd learned to cherish seemed so far away in time that you started to doubt your mind.

(,,,)

Din sat against a rock; while you rested your back against his chest and between his legs. Just the two of you, the sound of the crackling fire and endless stars above your heads. You felt so little and yet, at the same time, that there was nothing that could stop you from conquering the entire galaxy.

“You got this.” his modulated voice came out lower than usual. 

“Sh!” you silenced him with a half-smile. Your hand was extended, just a couple of meters away a small rock floated in the air, slowly approaching you. You’d tried it at least a dozen times and this one, you decided, would be the last. 

Silence crept over you both. Too expectant to breathe for a few seconds. 

You were certain, so confident. Then, fear invaded you. Your hand started to shake and so did the rock. You could feel yourself slowly losing control, anticipating a seemingly inevitable failure. You didn’t trust your power, having always been relegated to abandoning your true identity for your own (and everyone’s) safety. 

Luckily, Din did have hope in you, and although he respected your wishes of quietness during this moment, it didn’t mean he couldn’t try to ease your mind through other means. After all, the Mandalorian felt more comfortable with actions than he felt with words. 

So he snuck his hand beneath your hair and softly rubbed his thumb behind your ear, a soothing caress he often offered when you needed comfort.

It wasn’t a revelation that then, and only then, you felt enough peace to stabilize the Force and finally close your hand around the object.

“Oh!” both your eyes and mouth were wide open. You half turned towards Din — you were drunk in elation, still not wanting to miss the warmness of his body. “I got it!” you burst. You met his visor, but you could sense his eyes on you. 

“What did I say?” he spoke. “You got this.”

You got this. 

You got this.

“I got this,” you mumbled, trying to hold on to comforting words carefully sheltered in your head.

You had been a prisoner of your own body for over a week now. Traveling only from your cell to the room you were currently held and vice versa. Having to extend your arm obediently when you were told so and use your powers as well. 

Truth be told, there was nothing else you could do, except trying to keep your mind busy and start processing the facts: there were no (nor there would be) allies to your cause. You were alone and whatever the remains of the Empire had in store for you was still yet to be revealed. 

Din would come for you, you were sure of that, but some hopeless part of your now broken soul was unsure he’d make it in time.

The door from your cell opened. A couple of troopers marched towards you. Between them, the man in the white coat you’d regularly seen since your arrival. He introduced himself by squeezing your arm, it was supposed to be gentle. 

He wouldn't have done the same if you weren't cuffed and strapped into a stretcher. You thought about breaking free. Your hands around his neck, fear instead of the cockiness his eyes currently harbored. 

The urge was sharp and violent and you enjoyed it while it lasted.

“How are you doing?” Like shit. You remained impassible. 

He opened a case he’d been carrying and laid out the contents on a tray next to the bed. You knew what it was, you wish you didn’t. Needles of different sizes, scalpers, and syringes. 

You winced when he took a needle and fitted it into a large syringe.

He smiled at you. "Be a good girl and stay still, will you?"

Fuck you. “Okay.” Even though you complied, both troopers were ordered to hold you down.

As usual, every movement from that moment was processed in slow motion. The doctor hovering the needle just a few millimeters over your skin, then, the hard cold steel piercing it. First a pinch; as it went deeper, burn; then ache. You wanted to trash but you couldn’t. 

Your vision swam, and your head went thick. “It’s done.” was the last thing you heard before you blacked out. 

(,,,)

“Are you seeing anything? Or are they supposed to see you?” Din queried, looking around.

You were sitting on top of the Seeing stone, drowned in confusion just like him. Still, you couldn’t help but giggle at his obvious deduction from the name of the place where you currently were.

“Yes, I-” you trailed off and furrowed your brows as you watched him thoroughly inspecting the rock. He was quiet, his thoughts were loud. Or maybe you just knew him too well by then. “… I see you” you tilted your head, reformulating your sentence into a question, “Are you searching for an interrupter, Din?”

He straightened his body and immediately backed away from it “No,” he was quick to deny. You kept your eyes fixated on him, and then a ghost of a smile appeared on your face. Finally, he corrected himself after a defeated sigh, “Yes.” he confessed.

You chuckled. You could’ve kissed him by then, if only you had the chance. 

“I wish Ahsoka Tano would’ve told me more, but that’s not how it works.” 

The Force seemed to be much more complex than you originally thought. And the Jedi you met in Corvus day’s ago should’ve cleared many things —instead, she baffled you, even more, shifting her entire demeanor when she sensed your connection with the Mandalorian. 

Now, you were supposed to make contact with another Jedi without knowing how. 

Din didn’t answer. He had left the previous planet just as frustrated as you, if not more. 

“Well, look at the bright side—” you were cut by the sound of a ship circling the area. Both of you were immediately alarmed by its presence. Din ran to the edge of the mountain and followed it closely with his eyes. An attack craft was no good news. As much as he wished to complete the mission, there was no way he’d risk your safety. Both of you could come back later, he assumed.

He called your name, walking backward. “Time’s up, we gotta go.” he stopped abruptly when he finally turned around and saw you. He’d never seen anything of similar nature. 

Your eyes were shut, strands of your hair floated like feathers in the breeze. Some kind of force shield had been erected around you. He screamed for you again. “Hey! Snap out of it, we gotta get out of here.” but wherever your mind was, it was far away from Tython now.

He even tried to pass through the force shield only to be violently expelled from it.

He grunted. The floor beneath him was hard, the realization he made hit harder: there was no way he could reach you. 

His desperation only could grow when he spotted an unknown subject leaving the craft. “Dank Farrik!” he cursed. His hands were closed in tight fists, his gaze lingered on you. Leaving you was his last preference, he’d promised you he’d never do it until you were safe but it became the only viable option. 

He had no power to interfere in whatever was happening to you up there, but he could take care of the problem on the bottom of that mountain.

Din pulled his blaster from the holder. “I’ll see if I can buy you some time.” he doubted you could hear him, but still he tried. “Can you please hurry up?” there was hesitation in his movement, his steps were slow and uncertain. Walking away from you had never felt so wrong, and yet he had no other choice if he wanted to protect you.

He would later learn that fear, desolation, and regret were very possible and present emotions in him as he could only stand and see the dark troopers taking you away. 

(,,,)

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was your handcuffs.

The second thing was the light reflecting off them. 

Your glance flickered from the Dark saber to Moff Gideon and then to the person he was talking to. 

Until that moment, you weren’t sure if you were awake or hallucinating. But then everything became so real. His armor, his voice. As exhausted as you were, you took your time to caress Din with your eyes. 

He was alive. Whole. Here.

You were in a dream.

He, on the other hand, sensed that his nightmare was far from over. 

“You can keep it, I just want her,” he assured. The object of dispute between Moff Gideon and Bo-Katan had never sparked any interest in him. You were his only priority and his original quest had been long forgotten by then. 

The Moff stood in silence, seemingly analyzing the proposal.

“Very well, I already got what I wanted from her.” he addressed. “All I wanted was to study her blood. You see, the girl is extremely gifted. And has been a blast with rare properties that have the potential to bring order to the galaxy.” 

Din anchored his attention on you. All this talking did nothing but disturb him even more. You were so close and so far. Shut up, he wanted to say. 

Instead, he remained quiet. 

“I see your bond with her.” Din heard it before. Did he also believe what you both had it was dangerous? He didn’t wish or care to know. “Take her. But you will leave my ship immediately and we will go separate ways.”

If Din nodded, you missed it. He took cautious steps towards you. Your heart started to race in anticipation. You could already taste a decent glass of water, the sun kissing your skin, and the end of what was once an endless agony. 

You extended your hand for him to take it. He was only a meter away. 

It seemed so easy.

It would’ve been so easy.

But Moff Gideon bared only greed and darkness in his soul. He surrendered to no one, let alone a Mandalorian.

“No!” your scream ripped through your throat when you saw the Dark saber hovering over Din’s head. He was quick enough to block the hit and the ones that followed after, but the Moff was insatiable and they both disappeared into the hall.

You tugged at the cuffs, trying to get them off but it was impossible. Not when they were neutralizing your power. You were too weak to run, yet you still launched yourself at the door. 

Your legs instantly gave in. You let out a hard groan but didn't stop to recover from the blow. You instantly laid your body on a side and with the own weight of your arms you started dragging yourself on the floor. 

You had no visuals on Gideon and Din, still, the sound of the black saber colliding against beskar outside the room brought you some sense of calm.

They were still fighting, there was still time.

You just had to crawl a little bit more.

But the hallway seemed miles away, you were tired and you'd barely reached the doorframe when all fell silent.

"D–" your voice died before finishing the sentence. The thought of calling him and not receiving an answer infested your mind like a parasite. You wouldn’t survive that memory. 

A rush of adrenaline took over your body, you started moving once again. Frightened, but not hopeless —not yet. 

If Din hadn’t... If Din—

You would make sure to make Gideon pay. Maybe not with your mind, maybe with your own bare hands.

But your revenge would have to wait a few more minutes because someone blocked your path before you could reach the hallway.

Your eyes fixed over the boots in your line of vision. Where those his? You should’ve paid more attention to his clothes. If you did, you wouldn’t be trembling in fear. If you did, you would’ve instantly knew it was him, instead of waiting until he kneeled and reached for you.

He whispered your name. So loving and familiar. So soft it almost went unnoticed. 

Your lips pursed into a tight line, your eyes were filled to the brim with tears. You didn’t want to cry. But your heart felt heavy and all that pain you had accumulated those days had to go somewhere.

It was inevitable to break down. To weep and shake as your thoughts bounced between what could've happened and what didn't.

Din seemed to sense this when he asserted, "I'm here." He quickly took care of the cuffs. You find relief around your wrist, but the pressure didn't seem to budge on your chest. “I’m here.” 

There, on the cold surface of that cell, he hugged you for all the days he couldn’t.

One arm went around your back, his other hand rested against your head, fitting you against his body. You buried your face against his chest. He drew his fingers along the curve of your neck.

The well-known gesture felt completely different. Whereas before the calming effects of it were exclusively destined to you, it seemed that now it was he who needed it the most. He needed to make sure you were there. That you were real, alive, and well.

You vocalized your thoughts once you found the strength to do so, "I thought I lost you."

Din’s arms tightened around you, solid and warm. His heart would’ve broken right there if it weren’t filled with happiness. Your voice was the same. It was home. "No. I'm too stubborn to leave you." had you had the strength to chuckle, you would have. 

You slowly raised your head and, for the first time, observed past his shoulder. You immediately regretted your decision. In the hallway, Moff Gideon laid against the wall, now in shackles, looking straight into your eyes. There was a smirk plastered on his face. 

Din side-glanced the floor. The handcuffs, from which he had freed you, started to shake. Your back, once hunched and languid, was now rigid under his embrace. 

“No,” he muttered. He separated and took your face between his hands. “Look at me.” you ignored him and focused on the man behind him. Gideon’s brow furrowed, his cockiness slowly fading away —the air in his lungs too. "Cyar’ika.” the whisper came out as a plead. His helmet blocked your vision now, his gloved thumbs slid over your cheeks. You blinked the lashes that framed your eyes. They would’ve looked innocent on anyone else. “Don’t. He can’t hurt you no more.” his voice was gentle and reassuring. You believed him. 

He wouldn't hurt you, but he could –and would– hurt Din if given the chance. 

That terrified you, and it was something you couldn't forgive or forget.

Din was waiting for an answer, so you gave him one, “Alright.” Moff Gideon would just have to wait.

You both stared at each other for a moment. You hoped your answer was convincing enough to buy Din's calm. It did, cause he dropped the subject and moved into another, seconds later, “Can you walk?” he asked.

You placed your palm on the floor and held Din's with your other hand. Your legs responded –slowly but steady, you got on your feet.

The Mandalorian held you by the waist, watching with caution until he was sure you could stand by yourself, "We have to go to the bridge" he announced. His voice was low enough to maintain what he was saying between you. “Moff Gideon will go to the front, I’ll stay behind, you can follow me.” you couldn’t tell if it was a proposition or an order. 

“It’s ok. You said it yourself, he can’t hurt me.” Din tittered and shook his head.

“It’s not you who I’m worried about”.

(,,,)

You’d felt at ease once you met the familiar faces that had come to your rescue. Cara didn’t hesitate to hug you when she saw you, while Fennec limited herself to a comradely nod from afar.

Koska and Bo-Katan had been a completely different story. They didn’t take it lightly when they saw Din in possession of the Darksaber. You glanced at Moff Gideon, his victorious grin made much sense then —he knew of the traditions and what gave power to the saber. He also appreciated how Bo-Katan was as obsessed as him with it —purposely sinking his finger in her wounded pride. 

Although Din had yielded, his peace offering was unwelcomed, as well as his intentions to give her the saber. The last thing you needed was internal conflicts, but you were willing to fight anyone if you had to protect the person you'd care about the most.

The rising tension was —luckily or not— shut down by the alarms going off and then Fennec reporting a breach in the ray shields of the ship.

Moff Gideon, with a disgusting proudness in his voice, announced the dark troopers.

Lines formed between your eyebrows, "Dark troopers?"

Fennec took care of your confusion. "Problems." Her answer was vague, but you could deduce from it, at least, the essential: you'd have to fight against them —inhuman killing machines that doubled your size. The chances of winning were minimal, but you couldn't have gotten this far only to surrender.

You approached the screens and took a seat in front of them. The dark troopers kept coming. Din had trouble fighting with one earlier, and now you were six against too many. Five if they didn't count you. You were still weak, no powers, no Force —you were utterly useless.

Someone softly squeezed your shoulder. You looked up and your eyes met with beskar. "I'm gonna get you out of here." He could try. His words had always given you security. You assumed it was your damaged spirit that doubted them for the first time.

You fixed your eyes on the screen again, Din went to the front among the others. The dark troopers marched towards the bridge. They were getting closer and closer and all you could do was prepare yourself and wait.

"Seal the blast doors!" Fennec commanded Koska.

You looked at the cameras.

They were there.

The two dark troopers in the front started pounding on the door. The material they were made of was resistant, but not indestructible. It was only a matter of minutes before they could get through it.

"You have an impressive fireteam protecting you," Moff Gideon spoke. His voice exuberated confidence. He appreciated his upper hand in the situation and wasn't shy about it. "But I think we all know after a valuable stand, everyone in this room will be dead, but me and the girl."

Din didn't turn to look at you. Gideon's statement probably sent him the same eerie sensation as it did to you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. The thought of him speaking so lightly of your friends' death almost made you puke.

If only you could've hurt him. You had the will, but not the power.

The alarm went off a second time. All of you looked at your right, throughout the windows: A ship flew past the cruiser. Closer monitoring allowed you to identify it as a lone X-wing fighter. Just one. Cara whispered something about being saved, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

"Incoming craft, identify yourself." Bo-Katan solicited. Radio silence.

The dark troopers outside stopped pounding at the door. You looked at the cameras outside the bridge. They made a half-way turn on their place and armed themselves. 

Everyone was too baffled to be relieved about it. Everyone but you.

Your eyes were glued to the screen. The hooded figure that disembarked was just a visual confirmation of what you had sensed as soon as the craft had landed in the docking bay. 

There was no more such thing as uneasiness. The air felt lighter —in it, an invisible string pulling you towards the unknown subject.

No. Not unknown. You knew what and who it was —long before he'd displayed his lightsaber. You knew why he was here, as well as his intentions. You just didn't want to acknowledge the consequences of his presence —and what it meant for you. 

You turned around and searched for the Mandalorian, only to find Moff Gideon on his feet and pointing a blaster at Bo Katan.

He fired at her, four or five times, you didn't exactly count —it was enough to knock her out of the way.

There was nothing between you and him now. Whereas he'd expressed before the possibilities of keeping you alive for further studies about the Force, it wasn't a viable option anymore. He would rather kill you than let the Jedi get his hands on you.

You had no way to defend yourself. So you looked at him in the eyes and held your breath, resigned, once again, to a destiny written by foreign hands. 

You waited for the shots but they never came. Instead, the air was knocked out of your chest as you were thrown to the floor by someone. You winced at the harsh contact. At least you didn't have a hole in your body. You had closed your eyes by instinct, blinking felt such a waste of energy by then.

You focused on Din's helmet while he frantically inspected your body for any wounds.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

No, you were not. You were numb, expressionless, stunned, motionless. You felt your throat closing up. To speak would mean abandoning the shelter of your conscious, where you still believed to have more time with him. 

But you didn’t, and Din needed to be aware of this.

Tears welled up in your eyes before you whispered, “It’s time.” 

His posture stiffened above you. Though it was never a serious conversation, he’d recalled both of you touching the subject very on the surface. Always in a light, joking manner. “Oh, what will you do when I’m gone?” you’d ask. Din would follow with a snicker and tease you for the sake of your dynamic. “Get a good night of rest.” Truth be told, you could’ve never fathom to properly rest far from each other.

You wished, or rather begged with your eyes, for him to say something, anything —but he chose silence. Was his nightmare the same as yours? Or had he come to accept, long before you did, your true path? 

He took you gently by the hands and helped you get up. He guided you to the front, slow and steady. 

“Open the door,” the bridge was noiseless. No answer whatsoever to his request. Din insisted, “I said, open the door.”

Fennec raised an eyebrow, aiming at the entrance. “Are you crazy?” all the dark troopers were destroyed, but you couldn’t blame the group for their wariness. It had been a long day, a long journey, too many enemies in your path to trust so easily the person waiting on the other side.

You walked past by Gideon, who laid unconscious on the floor. His attempt to kill you felt so far away in time. Now, you faced something worse and more dreadful than death itself. 

Din ignored the verbal protests and pressed the button himself. The blast doors opened. The green glow of the lightsaber was visible before his body. Everyone waited as he entered the bridge. The sick, anxious feeling in your gut only increased when he withdrew his lightsaber. The memories of your time on the seeing stone came back altogether. You recalled his face, he was in your dream, he was the one who had reached out and —oh, you wished you could retract your cry for help.

“Are you a Jedi?” Din found the courage to ask. 

Yes, he is. You knew his identity before he could tell you so. Luke Skywalker.

“I am,” he confirmed and then looked at you. He reached out a hand, you squeezed Din’s. “Come, please.” you trusted this stranger as if you had known him all your life. The Jedi wasn’t the problem, it was the man standing next to you. 

“She doesn’t want to go with you.” Din’s authoritative tone and firm stand made it clear that he shared the same wishes as you. 

But Luke knew better than to give in to the whims of your hearts. If only they were reason enough to rebel against him, “She is strong with the Force. But talent without training is nothing. I will give my life to protect her, but she will not be safe until she masters her abilities.” 

Your fingers lingered over Din’s as you broke the grip on his hand and took a step forward. For a moment, you considered the option of leaving everything behind without looking back. To spare the pain of goodbye seemed the happiest ending you could get. 

Then you remembered how uncertain and unpleasant the future could be. Very few souls in the galaxy could survive regret, an ‘I should’ve’ was more gut-wrenching than any blast to your chest.

So you turned around and face him one more time. You offered a tremulous smile, drops wet the corner of your lips. 

He, as always, tried to offer some peace of mind you couldn’t find by yourself. “I’ll see you again. I promise.” you hated the bleakness that tainted his voice. Still, you found yourself wordless, nodding at his words. 

You extended your hand, the tip of your fingers brushed his helmet. It was cold, lifeless, so much different from what was inside of it and who you had learned to know. Din’s hand went up and reached for yours, for a moment you thought he’d push it away. Instead, he put it on the helmet and slowly removed it. 

What in the past was deemed unlikely, was now a solid dream.

You lingered on the coffee eyes that studied yours, on the small crease between them above the line of his bold nose. His hair —you wanted to jump in his arms and run your fingers through that hair. Your eyes wandered over his mouth, following its curve and pout, as if he was just about to speak. You wanted to crush your mouth against his lips. 

So you did.

Time stopped in a collision of senses when your lips met his. Your heart pounded in your chest as your knees got weaker. You could only focus on how soft he felt against your mouth, in how addictively he invaded your senses. 

There was raw emotion in the way his fingers closed behind your neck, in how he squeezed you against his body. With your eyes closed, you weren’t sure if your mind had tricked you into a perfect present. 

But then you opened them again and he was there. Closer than ever. 

“We will meet again.” your voice quavered in a whisper. You threw your head back just to take a full picture of his handsome face. Tears fell over his cheeks, you brushed them away with your thumbs. “Someday, somewhere, we’ll get to be together.” you lowered a hand and placed it on his chest. “Until then, keep me here, ok?” 

This time, Din draped both of his arms around your frame and met your lips halfway. It was short, intense, and everything that needed to be said was said with it, “I’ll wait for you as long as I have to, ner runi”. 

You stole him one last kiss before you let him go. 

There was nothing said between you and Luke as you left the bridge side by side. More tears cascaded through your face the further you walked away. You knew this was the way it should be, but never would it hurt so bad. The Mandalorian was supposed to be only an eventuality and ended up being half of your heart. 

You reached the elevator and turned around. It took a massive amount of bravery to look at a loved one in the eyes as you parted ways, so you gathered every cell full of courage in your body and looked at Din. 

You were still crying, so was he. But you had made peace with the past, the present, and the future — both of you knew, one way or another, you were destined to each other, whatever the odds you’d have to face. 

The elevator doors were closing. Your smile grew wider and wider as you realized, not too late, just in time, “I love you, Din Djarin.” he didn’t have to say it back for you to know he felt it too. 

You had promised to find him as soon as you could and you intended to keep your word.

[justanotherblonde23]

I Want You - A Din Djarin Story

Author’s Note: Hey there, internet friends. So I had an ask from my friend @hdlynnslibrary that I can’ find to save my life. Luckily, I wrote it down! “Hi Kat! My darling! I must admit to feeling #horny okay? Soooo what about a prompt for my fav space man Din? Like maybe with an #inexperienced reader?” Oh Heather, my love, ask and you shall receive! What started out as a little somethin became 14 pages, double spaced, 12 point Times New Roman font. So my darling, I hope you enjoy this Din x reader fic, it was made with LOTS of love <3

Warnings: SMUT, there is definately sexy times going on over here, all aboard the horny train, leaving the station as we speak. Choo-fuckin-choo! Also, language because I am me and since I was born and raised in Boston and I have been swearing like a goddamn sailor since, well, ever lol. Oh, and there’s a slight breeding kink, just an FYI. I’m sorry, it just all came out and I couldn’t help it and Din Djarin wants his clan to expand, okay? 

Thank you to all who read, like, comment, reblog, etc. It warms my heart that you all are enjoying my work. Please let me know what you think of this one :-)

You had been traveling with Din on the Razor Crest for the past year or so. He found you on Arvala-7, working alongside Kuiil. You were good with your hands, fast with a blaster, and most importantly, you connected with the Child. From the second that kid saw you, he decided that you were his. He was the largest reason that you were here right now. How anyone could resist those big eyes, his floppy ears, and that cute baby smile. He turned your heart to putty. 

Your days were spent mostly on the Crest, keeping an eye on the little one and tending to the ship the best you could. The baby required a fair bit of effort, but you didn’t mind; he had become like your own child without you even realizing it. 

Somewhere along the way, you had become closer with the Mandalorian that you traveled with. Clipped sentences became more extended conversations as you gently urged him out of his shell. Soon, he became curious about you, asking all sorts of unimportant questions, ranging from where you grew up to what your favorite color was. Dinners alone with the kid turned into Mando joining you, lifting his helmet ever so slightly so that he could take a sip of the broth you made or a bite of the ration pack you heated up. Every time he did this, you made sure to keep your eyes on your plate, never wanting to disrespect his Creed in any way. 

As the months progressed, your feelings for one stoic Mandalorian grew. You caught yourself lingering in the cockpit more when after you put the little one down at night. You also caught yourself staring on more than one occasion, and you knew for a fact that Mando saw you, too. How could you not stare at that imposing figure that you shared a home with? The duality of the man was awe-inspiring, to be sure. He was a fearsome warrior, and you had witnessed his prowess first hand many a time. He brought bounties in nonstop, always jetting off to the next one before the last quarry had been frozen away in carbonite for a day. And then there was the gentleness that he had with the baby. You could tell that this was his first time taking care of another person by himself. Sometimes he was a bit rough around the edges, but he did try his best. He was learning how to be the best parent he could for the kid, and watching that play out warmed your heart. 

Often times, when he took the kid up to the cockpit so that you could use the refresher and wash the day away, you could hear him up there talking to the kid gently. Sometimes he speaks in Basic; other times, he speaks in what you assume is Mando’a. Every once in a while, you hear him sing the baby a lullaby on those restless nights where nothing seems to calm that sweet baby down. The first time you heard him sing softly to the kid, you knew that you loved him. 

You never felt right acting on your feelings; you didn’t know how he thought about you. Also, you were terrified of making a fool of yourself. Truth be told, you have never been in a man’s bed before. The life of a refugee of the Empire didn’t leave much time for amorous encounters. By the time you found Kuiil, all you wanted was to keep your head down and do your work. If you happened to meet someone along the way, fantastic, but you had more pressing matters to attend to, like surviving in the desert. 

That all changed one night when you least expected it. Mando had taken the kid to soothe him and put him to sleep, so you took the opportunity to use the fresher. You had been working hard that day, repairing areas of the Crest that needed maintenance while juggling an inquisitive little one. You took your time, relishing the way that the water felt against your bare skin, the warmth seeping into your muscles and soothing your bones. You wouldn’t tell anyone, but you viewed water as a gift from the Maker itself. For the first time in your life, you didn’t have to scrounge and save every last drop. You’d never had the luxury of using actual water the bathe daily; you’d never been in the financial position to have such a thing. For the Galaxy working class, a sonic was the best you could hope for most of the time. It cleansed the body of dirt and grime just fine, but it wasn’t pleasant like water was. 

In all honesty, your idea of a luxuriously long shower was well under ten minutes, but it was a dream come true for you. After you were clean and smelling of the fresh soap that you used, it was time for you to get out. You grabbed the small towel, drying your body, and then reached for your clothes. Your hands floundered around a bit until you realized that you had inadvertently forgotten to bring a new pair of clothes or your sleep shirt in with you. You had been in too much of a rush to hand off the baby and get just a few moments to yourself. 

You groaned at your flightiness. Kriff, that only left you with two options: you could either put your dirty clothes back on, or you could try to make your way back to your sleeping quarters wrapped in this tiny ass towel. Neither option particularly appealed to you, but your desire for cleanliness finally won out. 

You gathered up your belongings and quietly opened the refresher door, careful not to be too loud. It usually took a bit of time to calm the baby down enough for him to go to sleep, and you didn’t want to interrupt that process. The lights in the hold were dimmed, leaving you with the ability only to see a few steps in front of you. 

Unfortunately, your quest to be stealthy was in vain. You had forgotten that you had moved a particular toolbox during your work project this morning. Said toolbox ended up being placed right where you could smack your little toe on it. You yelped in pain, dropping everything in your arms in favor of hopping up and down on one foot and clutching the other in your hands. This caused the towel to also fall to the ground, leaving you bare. A noise drew your attention up, and your eyes met a helmet, staring right back. Mando was standing right in front of you, apparently drawn by the noise. 

You dropped your foot, standing up straight, eyes wide in shock. You didn’t move; you barely breathed. Your mind was short-circuiting, and you didn’t even have the sense to pick up your towel off the ground. Your body was overflowing with embarrassment, horror, and- was that arousal? Stars, you were standing here, completely bare, across from the Mandalorian who has every inch of himself covered. 

Ever so slowly, he reached down and grabbed the towel you had dropped, carefully wrapping it back around you. His hand accidentally brushed your breast, causing you to suck in a breath of surprise. He murmured his apologies, beginning to withdraw his hands, but you were faster. You reached out, stilling his retreating hands and placing them back on your body. You wanted this, you wanted him, and you wanted to make sure that he knew it. 

He tilted his helmet curiously, waiting for you to give him a prompt. He took in your labored breathing, your increased heart rate, the way you bit your lip. Your eyes met his visor, and he could barely even see your eye color because your pupils were so blown with lust and desire. He groaned a deep, low sound in his chest at your obvious reaction to his presence. 

“What do you want, sweet girl?” he ground out, trying to keep himself in check. 

You moved your hands, gently cradling his helmet where his cheeks would be, breathing in his scent swirling so close to you. You could smell the blaster residue, the leather, the metal of his beskar, the soap you both used in the shower, and that smell that was uniquely his. You’d never get tired of it, not in this life or the next. 

“I want you,” was your reply. “Touch me, Mando, please.”

“Din,” came his reply, almost in a whisper, as if it was something sacred. 

You frowned, your nose scrunched up in confusion. You studied this helmet, eyes searching for answers. 

“My name, it’s Din. Din Djarin.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock, eyes wide with confusion. You knew the sacredness of a name in this Galaxy. Stars, you hadn’t even told him your own name for a solid three months. The only reason he had found out was because he overheard you talking to the kid one day. A name was even more sacred to a Mandalorian. It was precious, something to be guarded with the utmost care. You’d never even wagered that he’d give it to you, ever. 

“You can use it, but with just me and the kid around. No one else gets to know it, no one but you.” 

You nodded, understanding just how much it had taken for him to tell you. His name was a gift, something that you would keep close and cherish. 

“Din,” you spoke the Mandalorian’s name for the first time, testing it on your tongue, relishing the taste of it in your mouth. It was a good name, a solid name, a name fitting for the warrior before you. “Din Djarin, a beautiful name.” 

Hearing his name in your mouth set Din’s soul on fire. The way you spoke it, the way you had considered it and acknowledged the importance of what he had just given you, it made him want to hear it again and again. He wanted to listen to you moan his name in ecstasy, begging him for more, begging him for pleasure. He wanted to hear you yell it, mutter it, say it in everyday conversation. He wanted to hear his name drip from your lips for the rest of his life. 

That night was the first time he took you and gave you pleasure. You had come on his tongue and fingers three times before you were strung out and exhausted. You fell asleep in his bunk wrapped tightly in his arms. That was two months ago. 

You still had yet to take him fully, to allow him to be inside of you. You had admitted that you were nervous, that you had no experience to work off of. Din had been nothing but patient and kind, never pressuring you into anything that you weren’t comfortable with. He had told you that, “We have all the time in the world, sweet girl. There’s no need to rush.” You believed him wholeheartedly, but in the past weeks, you had found yourself wanting more. Sure, you were still frightened, you didn’t know what you were doing, but that burn and ache inside of you kept getting more intense as the days went by. You know that Din would take care of you. 

It’s been a rough day, and that’s an understatement. You helped with the bounty this time because the information you were given indicated that this quarry was heavily guarded. Mando couldn’t say no to an extra blaster covering his ass. Thankfully, this mission was on Tatooine, meaning that you could leave the little one with Peli. Maker knows that woman loves your little green bean; how could she not? Green bean loves her right back and seems to be particularly fond of the pit droids. You think it has something to do with the fact that he can bonk their noses to make them spring to life, but you can’t be sure. 

Unfortunately, it turns out that this asshole was much more protected than you had been led to believe. You would have some choice words for Greef Karga to pass along to whoever had commissioned this kriffing bounty. You both had more or less emerged unscathed, but there would most certainly be bruises covering you two from head to toe. 

Once the bounty was frozen away in carbonite, you could breathe a little better. He wouldn’t be giving you any trouble now. When Peli saw that state you were in, she insisted that she keep the little one for the night, which was a relief. As much as you loved that sweet little boy, you needed a breather. Hopefully, you’d be able to spend some much needed time with just you and your Mandalorian. 

You found yourself on Din’s lap with a blindfold covering your eyes so he could kiss you. You would rather not see anything at all and have his lips on yours than have your sight with his helmet on. You both were in your underclothes, your legs straddling him. 

That’s when the kisses began. There was something about kissing Din Djarin that was otherworldly. The way he poured all his love and care into a kiss never ceases to blow you away. He always started so gently, building you up and setting you on fire. How could anything be that good, that pleasurable? He licked into your mouth, moaning at your taste. Your Mandalorian loved to kiss you. He nipped at your bottom lip, causing you to gasp, pleasure shooting straight down to your core. 

He moved his kisses to your jaw and down the column of your neck, leaving bruising in his wake. Din whispered in your ear, telling you how beautiful you were, how good you tasted, how you were just for him. The thought that you were his, that this fearsome warrior had opened himself up enough to let you in, it urged you forward. 

You began to rock back and forth on his thigh, chasing that feeling of bliss. He stopped you for a moment, helping you wiggle out of your panties, before urging you to start once more. This felt even better, your slick dripping out onto his thigh, helping you create beautiful friction. By the sounds he was making, Din was enjoying it, too. The feeling of his muscles hard beneath you, your clit rubbing deliciously against him, was heavenly. You could feel the sparks in your tummy, the clench of your cunt around nothing; you were so close. 

Din urged you on, his hands at your hips, moving you. He muttered about how gorgeous you were as you took your pleasure on his thigh, how he wanted to see you cum on him, how he wanted to taste your sweet pussy after you came. His words were what finally did you in, the dam bursting and your orgasm hitting you full force. Your hips began to stutter, but your Mandalorian kept you moving, riding the waves of pleasure, extending your bliss. Finally, your whines led him to stop; you were far too sensitive to continue. You panted, trying to catch your breath. 

As you sat there, your head on Din’s shoulder, centering yourself once more, you realized what exactly was pressing against your thigh. You could feel his rock hard, dripping cock, just within reach. The thought of it made your pussy clench and your mouth water. You wanted Din Djarin, all of him, in every way possible. You wanted to feel him inside of you, wrecking you and making you see stars. 

“Din,” you murmured, “I want you.” 

He nuzzled his nose into your hair, breathing you in. “You have me, Mesh’la, any way you want me.”

You sat up straight on his lap, facing him. If you didn’t have a blindfold on, you’re sure you’d be looking him directly in the eye. “No, I want you. I want you inside of me; I want your cock, Din.” 

Your Mandalorian groaned at your admission. There was nothing he wanted more. He took in the earnest expression on your face, looking for any sign of hesitance or anxiety. He never wanted you to feel pressured into doing anything that you didn’t want to do. He didn’t want you to feel as if you needed to do something to please him. He wanted you to explore sex at your own pace, never another’s. 

“Cyare, are you sure? There is no rush for us. My satisfaction comes from the fact that I can satisfy you and that you trust me enough to allow me to be the first to touch you in this way. There is no timetable besides your wants, needs, and desires, mesh’la. I don’t want you to pressure yourself.” 

You smiled at his words, his voice so soft and sweet for you. He was always so considerate, never rushing you or telling you that you were going too slowly. The kindness and care this great warrior continuously showed you reminded you of this complicated man’s duality. You felt safe with him, and you wanted all of him. 

“Din, baby, no, I don’t feel pressured. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks now. I want to feel you inside of me; I want you to make love to me, please.” 

He cradled your face in his palms for a moment, his thumbs gliding over your cheeks. Then, he kissed you. It wasn’t a gentle kiss; it was full of passion, sinking you deeper into arousal. He kissed you like you were the only thing in the world that he loved, and maybe he did. Perhaps you and the kid were his whole heart. His tongue expertly explored your mouth, causing you to mewl and moan. He knew just what would get you going. 

He pulled away, sucking in precious oxygen as you did the same. Carefully, he turned the both of you around and laid you down on his cot. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the galaxy, not by a long shot. It was designed more for efficiency than comfort. The thing was, though, you didn’t care. It was Din’s, and he was willing to share it with you. You could feel him hovering over you, his breath warm against your face. 

“Let me taste you, sweet girl. Let me get you ready to take my cock.”

You gasped, feeling his cock rock back and forth, covering himself in your slick. You were at a loss for words, so many sensations happening all at once. All you could manage was a nod, and a whimpered, “Please, Din.” 

Your Mandalorian kissed his way down your body, leaving behind bite marks and bruises where he wanted to cause heightened sensations. Before he even made it to your pussy, you were already painfully wet for him. You could feel his breath ghosting over the place where you wanted him the most. You lifted your hips in an attempt to spur him on, but all it got you was a muscular arm forcing your hips back down to the cot. 

“Patience, cyar’ika, I want you to feel every ounce of pleasure that I can wring out of you. Enjoy the moment, feel the suspense, don’t simply rush to the finish line, little one.” 

You yelped as you felt him bite into the juncture of your hip and thigh, sucking in hard to leave a mark. He soothed the skin with his tongue, so close to where you needed him, but not close enough. He repeated the process on the other side, marking you in a place only the two of you would ever see, like a secret that you both would share. 

Unexpectedly, his tongue licked a broad stripe from the bottom of your slit to your clit. You sighed; that was the feeling you so desperately wanted. He lapped at your cunt like a man starved, and you were the best thing on the menu. He knew how to work you into a frenzy, and quickly, he played your body like an instrument that he had been practicing on for a lifetime. You quaked and shook as your second orgasm of the night took hold, bursting and pulling you ever forward into the bliss you so desperately craved. 

Even after you had ridden out your orgasm, Din didn’t stop. He worked you over, inserting one finger and then another inside of you, hitting that one spot inside you that made you see stars over and over. His mouth never stopped, his tongue lazily drawing loose circles around your clit, never slowing down, but keeping a steady pace. Your hips fought to lift off the cot, simultaneously fighting and chasing that feeling of ecstasy. When he scissored his fingers inside of you and twisted his wrist just so, you lost it once more. A scream that sounded something like his name tore out of your throat as the stars exploded behind your eyes. 

You felt like you were floating in space, freely and without a care in the world. You reached a new height of pleasure that you’d never even imagined before. You could touch the sky and would never ever come down. You thought every encounter with your Mandalorian was pure rapture, but this was beyond anything you had ever felt before. You were panting, gasping for the oxygen your body so desperately needed, and you felt better than you ever had before. As your head left the clouds, you realized you had a dopey smile on your face, and your lover was covering you with kisses everywhere he could reach. 

Vaguely, you heard his whispers in the dark. You were so good for me, mesh’la. You looked so beautiful cumming on my fingers and tongue. You taste divine, starshine. Those words went straight to your heart and to your pussy, flooding you with more arousal than you had ever thought possible. A deep kiss on your lips finally brought you back to the present, the warm body on top of you centering your mind. 

“Are you ready for my cock, sweet girl? Do you still want to feel me inside of you? I promise I’ll go slow.”

You nodded in response, your words failing you. 

“I need to hear you say it, cyare. I need to hear you tell me that you want this, that you’re sure.” 

Your head lolled a bit as you processed his words, still feeling slightly hazy. 

“Din Djarin, I want you inside of me. Please, please, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything before.”

He chuckled at your pleas, a smile pressed into the crook of your neck. 

“I’ll be most delighted to give you what you want, sweet girl. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Are you ready for me?”

You breathed out a yes as you felt him coat himself in your slick, making sure he could ease into you. You knew he was quite large. You had curiously wondered aloud one day if all men were built like that. Even though his size intimidated you, you wanted everything he could give you. The excitement fizzled in your belly; you were getting wetter by the second. 

Ever so slowly, your Mandalorian lined himself up with you and began to press in. You gasped at the feeling of just the head of his cock inside of you, the blunt tip spearing into you. He paused before he began to move again. Slowly, inch by inch, he pressed himself into you, stopping ever so often to make sure that you had time to adjust to him. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as the girls in your hometown had made it seem. Maybe they hadn’t been with the proper lovers, or perhaps the boys they were sleeping with were just inexperienced and too young. All you knew was that there was a pinch of pain, yes, but the pleasure outweighed any discomfort you may have felt. 

You could feel every delicious inch of him inside you, splitting you open and filling you up like nothing ever had before. You could feel every ridge and vein as he inched his way into you. You couldn’t even put a name to this feeling, but you wanted more. Eventually, he was fully seated inside of you; your hips flush against his own. You felt so full, stuffed to the brim, and Maker, you loved it. He waited for a minute or two, allowing you to adjust to him and have a chance to take in all these new sensations. You had thought his fingers were terrific, but they were nothing compared to the feel of his cock deep inside of you. 

He kissed you. It was all teeth, tongue, and lips, and stars; it was perfect. He devoured your mouth, taking what was his. You couldn’t help the little sounds that sprung up from your throat when he did that. He answered you with guttural groans of his own. You could feel the way those sounds made his chest rumble; you could feel it in your chest pressed against him. 

He grabbed your leg, propping it up on his hip, and he began to move. He never went too fast for you or too hard, keeping a steady pace that kept you comfortable but still dragged you forward to a fourth orgasm. You didn’t even know you had it in you until Din used two of his fingers to assault your clit, encouraging that bundle of nerves to give you one more burst of pleasure. The combination of his cock deep inside you and his fingers on your clit was enough to send you toppling over the edge once more. This orgasm was more intense than the others, blazing white-hot through your veins and setting your soul on fire. If you thought you had been screaming before, you were mistaken. You writhed and squirmed under your lover, your pleasure causing your body to shake like a leaf. You sobbed his name over and over, tears spilling out of your eyes from sheer ecstasy. 

Your Mandalorian groaned deeply at the feel of your pussy clamping down on him like a vice. You were so tight, to begin with, and your orgasm grabbed him and shoved him into his orgasm. As he emptied himself deep within you, he couldn’t help but mumble praises. “Oh Mesh’la, you’re so tight for me, so beautiful laid bare just for me. You’re such a good girl, a sweet girl, my girl. I’ll give you whatever you want, baby. Adventure, new experiences, my love- fuck if you want it, I’ll give you warriors, children of our own.” 

You both laid there for a while afterward, basking in the glow of post-sex haze. You carded your fingers through his curls, gently scratching his scalp as he pressed sweet kisses into your skin. He was still inside you; neither of you could bear the thought of being parted just yet. You could stay like this forever, caught in this in-between time, not yet floating back into reality. 

“I would like that,” you murmured, never stopping your movements in his hair. 

“Like what, cyare?” 

“For you to give me warriors of our own, Din.”

You could feel him twitch inside you, clearly interested. His head shot up, studying yours closely, looking for any falsehood or hesitance in your blindfolded face. 

“You mean it?” He breathed out. 

You grinned, feeling around for his face. You traced his sharp jawline, the proud cure of his nose, the pout of his plump lips. This was the face of the man you loved, the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Wherever he was in the Galaxy, that was home. 

“Yes, my love, I mean it. We have our little green bean, and eventually, he’s going to need some friends to play with. We wouldn’t want him to be lonely. And besides, there’s no one I’d rather raise warriors with than you.”

You heard a faint sniffle before his lips were on yours once more. You had a family, but there was always room to add more to this clan of three. 

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[beskar-cowboy]

A Close Call

Part Three of The Best Things Dwell Out of Sight Series

Summary: After bounty hunting in the jungle, Mando comes back to the Crest with many pent up... feelings. (6k words) ao3 link here

Warnings: NSFW, smut, canon typical violence, descriptions of injuries, blood, yearning, mutual pining, rough sex, the helmet stays ON, breeding kink if you squint cause its Mando, also no season 2 spoilers

A/N: this series will be uploaded in a non-linear order! i realize that this way of doing things might not be everyone’s favourite so please let me know if you would like to be notified when all the parts are uploaded (which will be linearly in my masterlist) <3

The sweltering heat was heavy, drowning you in your own sweat as you walked deeper into vines, tall grass and thick foliage of the unfamiliar jungle.

The air was humid, the forest vast and dense, filled with shades of greens that you never thought you’d experience with your own eyes. You were seeing colours you had only previously dreamt of. It was such a stark contrast to the ice planet you had been on maybe a week prior to this. You weren’t sure which extreme you preferred but you were not the biggest fan of the way the humidity was making your hair puff out, curl exaggeratedly and stick to your neck and forehead with the sheen layer of sweat coated on every inch of your body. Your clothes were beginning to stick to your skin as well.

Mando was a fan of that, however. Yet the helmet gave away nothing, as always. 

The moment you landed on the planet, he noticed the way your chest heaved, taking in the supple, fresh air for the first time. The look of wonder in your eyes, taking in the flora and fauna you could only have only ever dreamed of previous to this. You were very endearing, it made his heart feel heavy, tense, as if you were squeezing it in your perfect little hand, bleeding him dry.

You couldn’t believe this was your life now; travelling with a deadly bounty hunter, caring for him and his adoptive child day and night. What was even stranger, perhaps, was that you were having the time of your life.

No matter how cold Mando could be, how rude, closed off or just straight up silent he could get some days. You wouldn’t trade it for anything. This was much better than your life on that dingey planet, working that dead end job in the scummiest bar in town. You tried not to think too much of your past, but you couldn’t help the few untamed thoughts that crossed your mind every now and then. You shrugged them off with relative ease, usually being whisked away in some task the Mandalorian asked you to complete, or by the cries of the Child.

No matter how hard the days could get, no matter how lonely you felt some nights, you were thankful for the loving affection of the kid, you were thankful for how much he seemed to care for you. And you cared for him in return. Not because it was what you signed up for, to more or less be his babysitter, but because you truly cared and maybe even loved the little green booger like he was your own. He was very sweet, kind, curious and reckless like Mando. You liked how they seemed so similar in some strange little ways, it made your heart feel heavy.

Heavy with some emotion you wouldn’t dare name because it would only fuck you up further, fuck up the missions, fuck up your tasks, fuck up everything. That sickening feeling you got in the pit of your stomach everytime you caught Mando talking to the Child, staring at him sweetly, catching the way he seemed to stare at you sometimes too. At least you think he was. Whatever, that helmet made it near impossible to ever tell what he was thinking, feeling or even just looking at.

No matter how little he was actually beginning to warm up to you, he was still extremely apprehensive and closed off. He had his moments of perceived kindness, gentleness or whatever it really was, but he always seemed to take five steps back when he realized he had been too vulnerable with you. 

You couldn't blame him though, he was on the run from people who were trying to take the kid from him, or busy chasing after bounties himself, he didn’t have time for… whatever it was you were feeling. Whatever emotion you were terrible at suppressing, you know without a doubt that Mando didn’t have time for such trivial, childish things.

You huff and look down to your side, the Child’s pod floating seamlessly along your side, the two of you just a few steps behind Mando.

The Mandalorian was tracking a bounty and he said there was a good chance he’d be on this jungle planet seeking refuge with a friend or something like that. You had literally begged him to come along, not wanting to spend another day alone in the ship with the Child. It had taken a few days to get here, and you desperately needed to stretch your legs and breathe some fresh air. Mando was reluctant, very reluctant, but after enough begging and pouting from you he allowed for the two of you to come along, figuring it would be a pretty easy quest anyways.

Oh how he was wrong about that.

His visor display was showing multiple footsteps having walked in the same direction that the three of you were now walking. The footsteps were strange, seeming to be left by a herd of long bodied, four legged animals. Mando had no way of knowing if they were a threat or not, but he had a feeling he’d be finding out soon enough. The Child’s safety and… and yours was not something he felt like gambling with today.

Mando stopped dead in his tracks and you nearly walked right into him, having been engrossed in a more or less one-sided conversation with the Child.

“Head back to the ship.” Mando commanded, his voice trying to give the sense that there was no room for discussion. He barely even turned around to glance at you, but you noticed his hand hovering over his blaster.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Your own hand now hovers over your own blaster, technically Mando’s but he had trusted you to wield it after that one stunt back on Batuu when you saved him and the Child.

“Animals. Too many of them, you’ll be safer on the Crest.” He turns to glance at the Child who coos back up at him, his ears turning downwards as if he too knows of the animals which creep up on the three of you.

“No, I can stay and fight. I’m not leaving.” You, I’m not leaving you, you want to add. But you bite your tongue.

You can’t see because of the hemet but Mando is rolling his eyes at you, at your stubbornness but also your resilience. How eager you are to stand by and help him almost blindly. He doesn’t doubt that you judge him or criticize him in your mind, but he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a negative comment leave your mouth. You’re always sweet to him. Sweet girl.

“Our job is to take care of the Child, make sure he’s safe,” He huffs, pressing a few buttons on his vambrace and suddenly the Child’s pod is floating away at a leisurely pace, back in the direction you’ve just come from. “Follow it back to the ship, close the hatch and do not leave until I’ve returned.”

You glare at Mando and how he’s given you no choice but to head back to the ship. There was no way you’d leave the Child floating unattend, and without Mando’s directions, you had no way of finding the ship again on your own. You sigh but turn on your heels after the pod, following its lead through the jungle and back to the Crest like Mando had programmed it to.

//

It’s been hours.

Or at least it feels like it’s been hours. You aren’t aware of the planet’s day cycles so you have no idea if it's been minutes, hours or days but it was dark now and you’d been trying to keep the kid occupied, distracted from the fact that his dad wasn’t here and you had no idea when he would be.

Luckily, the Child was in an agreeable mood so he was distracted pretty easily, playing with various shiny things that he usually reached for on the ship. You made him a couple of snacks with what you managed to find stashed away, he took a nap and you cleaned up the tiny mess he made. Overall, a pretty good day for him.

You on the other hand, were fucking stressed.

It was dark, really dark, and Mando hadn’t even contacted you on the comlink, not that he even did that before but you think that if he comes back- no, when he comes back - you’re definitely going to make that a new rule.

The Child was rocking sweetly in your arms, you had been trying to get him to fall asleep for the past thirty minutes and he was finally getting a bit dopey. Those big eyes of his seeming to get heavier, his blinks growing slower. His little hand was wrapped around your thumb and you quietly hummed a random song to him, maybe it was one your mother sang to you, you’re not quite sure but it seems to be doing the trick.

You can hear small disturbances outside the hatch and you use your hand which isn’t holding the Child to hover over your- Mando’s blaster. You lean against the wall, blaster in hand, hoping, praying it’s him.

Please be him, please be him, please be him.

The hatch groans as it releases its locks and opens slowly to the ever humid jungle. That familiar beskar glints and shines in the moonlight like a precious jewel. You exhale a much needed sigh of relief, Mando was back.

You tuck the blaster back into your holster as you watch him roundup the quarry into the ship, pushing him aggressively up the inclination. He stands wide, broad and big as he does his job. He’s tired and annoyed, you can tell. You can always tell, but he’s strong too, always strong.

The quarry’s hands are shackled, his face beat up and bloodied. Mando really did a number on him… 

The quarry’s eyes meet yours, take in the sight before him, a beautiful young girl cradling a strange little green baby. He seems confused, he looks back to the intimidating Mandalorian inquisitively. It’s the last thing he sees before he’s frozen into carbonite.

You say something something to him, to Mando. You sound worried, but he can barely make it out. He had seen the way the quarry’s eyes racked the length of your body, landing on the Child as well. Mando saw red, his adrenaline still pumping heavy and potent in his veins, coursing through his body from the chase, the act of hunting. 

So much so, that he hadn’t even realized he had come to tower over you, caging you in against the wall which you had been leaning against.

You look up at him with wide, worried eyes, you look flustered, lips red and swollen. He wants to touch you, he… he wants to do more than touch you-

The Child’s sleepy cooing breaks him out of his wicked mind. He looks down at the kid who reaches for him sleepily with his tiny hands, eyes half closed. He takes him from you, out of your motherly hold. Your hands brush and he wishes he wasn’t wearing gloves.

“W-What did you say?” He finally asks, remembering you had said something to him and he heard absolutely nothing.

“I said your arm is bleeding, Mando.” Voice so small, gentle. 

Mando huffs, barely acknowledging it before he steps away from you, turning to the Child’s pod and placing him gently inside. It closes with a hiss. You suck in a shuddering breath.

Mando rummages around for a few moments before pulling out his tool kit, sitting down on the edge of his cot and pulling out his taser-like contraption. You watch almost dumbfounded, trying to piece together what exactly it is he’s doing. He reaches for the tear in the thick material of his sleeve, pulling on it and tearing it further to better show off his wound and his… his skin.

Flesh. Mando’s arm.

Maybe you weren’t supposed to be looking, maybe you were breaking his creed by seeing part of his skin but you couldn’t look away, and he made no motion for you to do so either. So you stand transfixed as he begins to shoddily cauterize his tanned skin.

“L-Let me help you, please.” You take a step forward, towards him, hands reaching out.

“I’m fine.” He basically growls at you, his rough tone startling you, stopping you in your tracks.

So you stand by idly, watching him burn his own skin, attempting to close his open wound.

You only interject again when he starts taking longer breaks between each electrifying tase. When his hand starts to shake and his movements slow down, motivation and determination leaving him as he slowly accepts the pain of the deep gash on his arm, blood trailing down his toned bicep.

“Here…” You say quietly again, hoping he listens to you this time. You reach into the tool kit, pulling out his bacta gel before coming to stand in front of him, your knees grazing his bent one from where he sits on the edge of his cot. 

He seems to have listened, his movements having stopped, the taser held weakly in his hand. You take it from him, setting it back in the metal box before zeroing in on his bleeding cut.

You shudder at the sudden proximity, his pent up adrenaline and anger palpable, intoxicating. It lays thick and heavy in the air between your two bodies. Your hands shake as you gently douse the wound with the gel, trying to stay focused, trying to get the bleeding to stop. You fingers brush gingerly along toned, scarred skin and you try, you try so fucking hard to focus. To not let your fingers linger, not let them wander to regions unknown to any other living thing.

Mando groans as it begins to seep into the wound and you wince as well, feeling his pain as your own. You mumble a quiet ‘I’m sorry’ but continue to apply the thick substance to his bicep. 

His gloved hand suddenly shoots out and latches onto your hip bone, fingers grasping the clothed flesh in a deadly grip, as if trying to ground himself to you, to the ship, to ignore the throbbing pain. You didn’t realize it would hurt that bad, maybe it went deeper than you thought. 

When you’re finally done with the gel, you turn slightly to get some gauze to wrap the wound in. Mando’s touch never leaves you, his hand seemingly welded into your form. His thumb begins to absentmindedly rub up and down in soothing motions, you try to ignore the way it makes your heart pound but… but it's not really a big deal is it? No, Mando’s touched you before, what's so different about it now?

The air? The tension? The way he looks up at you, through that mask, begging to be seen?

God, you wonder what colour his eyes are.

You bet they’re soft, beautiful, kind. They probably give away how secretly gentle he is, something no one else would notice or dare assume about the deadly Mandalorian, but you know. You know because he’s been touching you more lately, especially since the ice planet. Just passing touches but still, you can’t imagine how much significance a simple touch holds for a man covered head to toe in armour, and who’s never shown his face to another living being in decades.

“Who are you?”

His voice startles you. It’s dropped several octaves since he last spoke, it felt like hours had passed since he last spoke- or more, growled at you.

“What?”

“What are you? H-How do you do this to me?” He helmet tilts to the side as he gazes up at you and your heart fucking pounds in its cage, trying to escape and expose itself to this metal man, expose everything you’ve been feeling since you met him.

“Mando-” You don’t understand what he’s saying, he’s not making any sense. Could the pain really be that bad? Making him this incoherent?

“You’re not real… you’re too good, to us, too good to the child… to me-” He was rambling. Mando was rambling. When has he ever spoken this much to you before?

Never.

“You’re good to me too.” You interject meekly.

“But not as sweet… not as sweet as you.” His words make your next intake of breath sharper than usual, no doubt he catches it by the way his helmet tilts up further. You wonder if he’s looking you in the eyes. It sure feels like he is.

“I-I don’t know what I would do if, if anything happened to-” His fingers tense on your hip as he lulls over his words, tossing them around on his tongue, afraid. “The Child… or you.”

“You keep us safe Mando.” You try to reassure him, but you’re not sure if he’s listening. His left hand joins his right one, both sides of your hips now engulfed in his large, strong hands. You throb everywhere, your body pulses for him.

Mando thinks about just letting his helmet fall forward, to let it rest against the softness of your belly but.

But he can’t. He’s too fucking scared. You scare him more than anything. More than any unknown animal in an unfamiliar jungle, more than any quarry, bounty chase, Mythosaur. More than anything, you scare him more than anything because this is the only domain Mando truly always fucks up. Feelings or whatever the fuck going on in his head right now.

“You take such good care of us.” He says, deflecting your words.

He pulls on your hips and you rock forward, almost losing your balance but your hands come forward to lean against his beskar covered shoulders, dropping the gauze you held. You shudder at the cool bite of the metal on your warm, overheating palms. Mando barely budged at your added weight, and you look down at him from where you now tower over him.

Your eyes rake over the sharp edges of his helmet in the low light of the hatch, down to his wound which still needs to be wrapped up but he was... Seriously distracting you for lack of a better word. You notice the heave of his chest, the heavy fall of his breaths like he’s having trouble getting oxygen into his body. And then you notice- you notice the bulge forming underneath his thick pants.

Mando takes you in as you do the same, watching as you finally notice his state, finally notice what you do to him. What you’ve been doing to him since the moment he met you.

“Take your pants off.”

You think your brain short circuits.

Because there’s no way that’s what Mando has more or less just ordered you to do, judging by his harsh tone.

“Wha-”

“Take them off or I will.” He groans, hands squeezing your hips again.

You whimper and bite your lip, trying to see through the pitch black T of his visor, trying to find the man underneath the beskar. You remove your trembling hands from his shoulders, standing up straighter and letting them travel down, down, down towards the button and fly of your utility pants.

“M-Mando, I-”  

“Don’t make me ask you again, sweet girl.” You whimper at the nickname, it wasn't the first time he used it but this was probably only the third time at this point. With his thumbs relentlessly caressing your hip bones, you shiver underneath his touch.

You had been dreaming of this for months now, dreaming of his hands on you, sexual or not, you were so deprived of intimacy, having gone months now only barely touching, grazing each other. You both needed this, both needed this more than fucking anything esle right now and you were no one to deny him of what he wanted.

Mando keeps the helmet trained on you as your nimble fingers pry the button open, admiring how easily persuaded you were by his thick, lust-laced words. He couldn’t believe he had managed to draw this out as long as he did, his urge to just tear your clothing away from your body and sink his raging cock into your tight heat the moment he entered the Crest was…. overwhelming to say the least.

But he had barely touched you up until now, and he wanted to work you up to it, no matter how much restraint that meant he had to have on his part.

The sound of your metal zipper sliding down below your belly button tests that restraint. He keeps his eyes on you even though he knows you wouldn't be able to tell where he’s looking. He knows you feel it, knows you feel the way his eyes burn holes into you, devouring you silently, pleading with you, please, please show me.

He feels your hands come to rest over top of his gently, as if you’re still nervous about touching him. You interlace your fingers with his and lower your pants, shimmying them down your hips and thighs together. It makes Mando’s breath catch in his throat and his heart pummel in his chest. 

Never had he undressed someone before. Never had the patience, never cared to. But with you, oh with you.

Maker, did he care.

Maybe cared too much, but now was not the time for such ill inducing thoughts. You were becoming more and more bare to him as the seconds passed. You only let go of his hands once your pants went past your knees. Pushing them down to your ankles, you stepped out of them, kicking off your boots as well.

There you were, standing before him in a black tank top and that fucking thong of yours… of course that’s what you had decided to wear today. Mando groans as his hands come up to touch you again, tentatively this time. He can’t believe you were allowing him this, letting him touch you, letting yourself be vulnerable with him when he wasn’t sure how ready he was to be vulnerable in return.

Maybe he could learn.

His hands travel up to your hips again, toying with the thin waistband of your panties, letting his gloved hand run along your pristine flesh that was once covered in ugly bruises. He-

He thinks he wants to be the only thing to bruise you. From now on, he made a promise to himself (and to you, secretly) that he was the only thing in this galaxy that could mark you up, claim you.

Mando’s hands travel back, reaching for the supple meat of your ass, clutching it in his large hands, kneading it before he pushes you forwards again, into him. You yelp as you land in his lap, catching yourself quickly as both of your knees rest on either side of his hips. You readjust and sit back down, your minimally clothed cunt coming to land on his hard bulge, you gasp, eyes wide as you look into his visor. He was so hard, he felt big too.  

“S-Sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“What are you apologizing for now, hmm?” He asks tauntingly, helmet tilting slightly to the side, as if he were considering you. 

His gloved hands come up your sides, going underneath your tank top and brushing along the underside of your breasts, feeling the tight skin. You unintentionally rock in his lap, creating friction on your already embarrassingly wet center. Mando’s hands tighten at your sides, groaning as he tries to still your movements but. But it feels too fucking good to stop.

He brings a gloved finger to your lips, running the worn leather over the pillowy flesh as if to let you taste it. You look at him, confused.

“Bite.” He instructs, voice clipped, sharp. 

Without needing further instruction, your teeth latch onto the absolute tip of his glove, letting him slip his hand out of its leather confines, revealing to you the most precious amount of skin of his you’ve ever seen. 

Tanned skin, thick fingers, large palm, perfect. Him. The urge to litter the rough calloused skin in kisses, lick his entire hand, just put the whole fucking thing in your mouth was all consuming. Yet you sat there in his lap staring at his hand like it was a vase of water and you were a flower, parched for water. He asked you to do the same with the other glove and of course, you did as he asked. You quickly found yourself wanting to please him.

You stared at his bare, rough, strong hands in awe, watched as he let them peek underneath your thin top to skim along your silky smooth flesh, an expanse unknown to him. His fingertips brush over your nipples, feeling how the pretty buds pebble for him. He twists and pulls them in between his fingers, watching the way your face contorts in pain and in pleasure. It’s his new favourite thing, he feels drunk off of you already.

“Please.” You aren’t quite sure what you’re begging for, Mando isn’t really sure either. But he knows one thing, and it's that the sweet sound of your voice, begging for him, begging for anything, just so desperate, was enough to make him cum in his pants. His fingers dig into your skin, trying to cool his overheating mind, trying to slow down a bit before he actually does cum in his pants, before he’s even properly seen you.

His bare hands come down to your panties, toying with them again between his agile fingers.

“You want this?” He asks, daringly pushing your panties to the side, getting the smallest glimpse and your slicked up and drenched pussy. He thinks he could die right now, die happy, never want anything, ask for anything again.

“Yeah, yeah I do, always- have.” You choke on a hiccup, emotions welling in your eyes already from how fucking built up all of this is. You feel like you were both about to burst at the seams. You still couldn’t believe this was happening, even if it were to stop now and not progress any further, you couldn’t believe he had allowed you this much of him.

Mando wraps his arm around you completely, gripping your waist tightly to spin you around, pinning you underneath him in the tight space of his cot. You gasp, shriek at the sensation of it all, as he comes to rut against you, grinding his thick bulge into your cunt.

You notice how his arm has begun to bleed again, the skin ripping open and the deep red liquid trickling down what little part of his bicep was exposed, further proving his humanity, exposing the man beneath the beskar. You really felt like you could cry.

Lost in your whirlwind, Mando pulls off your thong, throwing it somewhere unpreciously behind him before doing the same thing with your tank top. Completely vulnerable, you laid bare before him as he hovered above you, covered head to toe, save for his hands, in beskar. That fact alone made you throb deep inside. The sheer power and size of him enough to get you off. 

You knew what little he had already decided to show you was all he could afford, you were so grateful for it anyway, that he was even willing to show you his hands, the little glimpse of his bicep. His skin was beautiful, but you couldn’t possibly grasp the words to tell him.

So you hook your legs around his backside and pull him to you, silently begging him to do something, anything. You would take anything he gave you, you’d even thank him for it at this point.

“Fuck.” Mando growls, bare hands coming to work at unbuttoning his pants, pulling them low enough to pull out his engorged, thick cock.

Mando was… he was huge.

This came hardly as a surprise to you, however. You would have had to be blind to not noticed how he walked. He walked like it was big, talked like it was big, fought like it was big. But fuck.

You were not prepared for that.

“Mando, I-I don’t know if it’ll-”

“It will.”

You moan and arch your back towards him, needing it now, needing that sweet burn and stretch that you know is about to come.

And oh does it come.

Mando thrusts into you without further warning, giving you no time or preparation to adjust to what he was packing. 

He makes you take it. He makes it fit.

The stretch burns, it bites and it knocks every single breath and thought from your body as he nestles himself all the way up against your cervix. Your body convulses in retreat, trying to push him away from the aggressive intrusion but your mind wants more, needs more. Needs him to fucking split you in half on his cock.

You scream and Mando growls, loud, his helmet falling forward and resting in the crook of your shoulder which meets your neck. His helmet is cold and your skin is burning hot, it creates a fog on his visor and he desperately tries to wipe it off on your skin, trying to look at you so up close. The way your eyes screw shut, squeezing tears out, watching the beautiful dew drops roll down your cheek so perfectly.

It hurts. Maker, does it hurt but fuck does it feel good. The pleasure overrides the pain more than you could imagine and you find yourself begging him to give you more even though he’s already started thrusting into you like he’s on a mission, a mission to sever you in half with his cock.

He was surely succeeding.

Mando watches you cry in pleasure as he fucks into your pussy with such aggressive fervour, like someone had a gun to his head. One hand on your hip and the other around your neck, bruising your skin in that beautiful way he always wanted, how he always dreamed of. He holds you in place so that his hips don’t drive you up his cot because they surely would from how fucking deep and hard he’s pounding into you. Stars, you think you can feel him in your stomach, in your throat.

The hand on your hip travels up to one of your bouncing breasts, kneading the sotf flesh in his palm and watching you wither beneath him. So desperate -

“S-so helpless.” He moans, watching your body bend to his will beneath him.

“Mando- oh my god.” You cry, hands and arms flailing at your sides, not knowing where to put them. Mando sees your struggle and takes both of your hands into each of his, pinning them above your head and using it to drive into you even harder somehow.

Your pussy squelches obscenely, trying to suck him in deeper, keep him inside forever. The only sounds in the cot are fucking lewd, skin on skin rhythmically slapping. You pray the Child can’t hear any of this from inside his pod, you pray he’s asleep.

“So fucking wet... You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?” You nod your head so fast you think you’d give yourself whiplash.

“A-Anything, anything Mando- fuck.” That familiar coil was beginning to tighten in your belly, your toes curling, fisting gripping onto his, no doubt cutting off some of his circulation.

Eyes rolling into the back of your head, your chest arches up, up, up your breasts rubbing against unforgiving beskar. 

Underneath said beskar, Mando felt like he wasn’t getting nearly enough oxygen into his helmet, his skin flushing underneath the heavy armour but the pleasure rolling off of you and into him would be enough to sustain him for hours, he thinks.

Your pussy was squeezing him so tight, the ridges of your inner walls so soft, warm, wet, inviting. You felt like home. Absolutely fucking drenched, no wonder you were able to take him whole with almost zero preparation, you had fucking wanted it that way. Wanted him to be rough like this.

“I’ll never leave- never leave this sweet pussy...” He moans, hips stuttering, rolling and grinding deeper and deeper and you felt your orgasm quickly approaching, his words were only bringing you that much closer.

“Please, I- I…”

“Cum for me ner mesh’la, need you to cum for me.” He groans, cool and sharp edges of his helmet resting on your cheekbone.

You envisioned the faceless man deep inside you, what his face must look like now, deep in the throes of pleasure only inches from yours. You pictured the tanned skin covering his entire body head to toe, flushed and splotchy, hot to the touch. 

Would his eyes screw shut? Would his mouth hang open, little pants, groans, moans slipping through swollen lips, only loud enough for the ears of his lover to hear?

Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, you try to look into his visor as your orgasm wipes your mind blank, eyes screwing shut, an endless stream of tears falling onto already damp cheeks as you moan and cry his name into the tight space of his cot.

Mando.

Mando.

Mando.

You don’t think you could recall anything if anyone asked you. Not the name of the planet you were currently on, not the name of the planet you were born on, the bar you used to work at, your old bosses name, your name. Nothing.

With two, three, four more thrusts, Mando’s hips still after he drills himself into the deepest and darkest parts of your hot cunt, spilling white hot cum into you with the lowest moan you think you’ve ever heard flowing deep from within his chest. You gasp at the sensation, that warm pleasant feeling of being absolutely stuffed full, somehow more than you already were.

He draws his cock out before pushing it back in, plugging you up with his cum, pushing it deeper and deeper inside of you. You cry, bordering on overstimulation, his cock only softening in the slightest so the hard intrusion was almost too much for you to bear.

“Fuck Mando I’m- I don’t have the implant..” You whimper, suddenly worried, voice coming out uneven with your ragged breaths. 

Mando feels another surge of blood to his cock at your words, groaning as his dick twitches and thrusting into you a few more times…. For-

For good measure, he thinks.

Not that he would necessarily want that right now but fuck. Fuck did the mere idea of it make him painfully hard against his own will. You…. swollen with-

“Fuck.” He growls, pulling away from you a bit to better look down at you. Your eyes are shiny, lashes coated thick and wet with your precious tears. Lips swollen, chest flushed. You look worried, but beautiful. His. 

Mando remembers your old job at the bar…. Wouldn’t they have made it mandatory for all the girls to have the implant to prevent them from getting pregn-

“But- your job, you-?”

“I didn’t do that, I didn’t fuck them… just drinks.” You smile up softly at him due to fatigue, bashful nonetheless. 

Mando likes that, it puts him at ease in some fucked up way to know that those men in those types of places couldn’t get too far with you, even if they wanted.

“We can, I can get it for you on the next planet if- if that’s what you want?” He asks, hips still gently thrusting into you and you start to see stars behind your eyelids. You whimper, feeling his cum mix with your and gush back onto his cock and down the backs of your thighs.

“O-okay… thank you.” Mando nods but says nothing, pulling his cock from your fluttering pussy. You gasp at the sudden loss, feeling terribly empty and used. More cum dribbles from you and you quickly cup your cunt with your palm, trying to stop it from leaking everywhere on his cot.

Moving quicker than you would have expected him to, Mando stands up straight and tucks his wet cock back into his pants before walking away abruptly. You, however, barely notice as you lay flat on your back, head staring up at the ceiling with eyes closed, trying to catch your breath, regain some sense of self after getting all of it fucked out of you.

You’re made aware of Mando’s return by the touch of a warm and damp washcloth to your abused pussy. You gasp and sit up on your elbows, looking down the length of you to see the Mandalorian between your thighs, wiping away the mess that both of you made. Together.  

You want to thank him again but you can’t find the words within you, all of them lost to you because of this sudden display of dare you say affection.

“Stay here, gonna put us into hyperspeed. Once we’re up there, go clean up.” Mando orders softly, nodding his helmet at you. You nod back, still breathless, still shaking.

[dinpascal]

All a Game — Din Djarin

warnings: (18+) language/dirty talk, rough sex (piv), oral (m+f), hair pulling, orgasm denial, (kind of) hate sex (piv)  summary: As a fellow Mandalorian, you find yourself traveling with the bounty hunter and his kid despite the mutual dislike you seem to have for one another. Everything goes well (more or less), until he nearly gets both of you killed. He gets tired of your mouth. 

He was infuriating. 

Originally you had given him the benefit of the doubt, when it came to the (stupid) helmet debacle. If you had lived a certain way for the high majority of your life, your beliefs and sense of self completely and thoroughly twisted a particular way, it was difficult to simply step away from that when presented with something different — something that completely contrasted with what you staked your life on. 

In other, simpler words, the silver Mandalorian’s response to your face was as expected. 

However, as his arrogant and you’re-beneath-me attitude continued, the less patience you could continue to muster. He and his beliefs were superior to you just because he kept an oversized tin can over his head at at times? Don’t think so. 

You were just as much a Mandalorian as him. 

Nevertheless, here you were. Abandoning Bo Katan and the others for him and the little green bean foundling under his care and protection. While you argued it was for his sake, as no Mandalorian should ever stand alone, you knew it was primarily because of Bo Katan herself. While experienced and cunning, you grew tired of their quest you never saw happening — the retaking of Mandalore. It was a child’s dream. One you were no longer interested in entertaining.

Traveling with the nearly-mute Mandalorian held quite the learning curve. Neither of you were too thrilled with the other (considering the stark difference in beliefs), but there was enough respect for one another to quietly exist around one another. He would occupy himself in the cockpit doing whatever he did up there, while you fed the Child and listened to his cooing and babbling, occasionally offering your own opinions on subjects. You doubted his adopted father encouraged conversation much at all, given he wasn’t much of a conversationalist himself.

While the pair slept in their tiny, shared compartment, you were a few feet away in your own that he had (surprisingly) made out of another compartment that had originally been acting as some sort of storage. The little green bean would occasionally sneak out of his hammock and make his way to yours, often snuggling between your arms and snuggling his little body to your chest. 

The three of you fell into a strangely comfortable arrangement, until he agreed to a certain bounty that, apparently, required the both of you. While you were not too keen to the guns-for-hire career he had undertaken, you understood the need to survive and instead stayed behind to watch the little one while he was out. 

“I don’t understand who you could possibly be hunting that you can’t take on your own.” You had begun slipping your armor on, which had previously taken estate in your personal storage; there was no need to wear it when the majority of your time was spent in or near the Razor Crest. You could hear him rustling with something behind you, though you focused on the faded-scarlet color painted on your armor. 

“They want them alive.” He stated simply, as if those four words completely and thoroughly explained the situation. You turned towards him then, eyes already rolling and an annoyed look sent in his general direction. There were only a few things you missed when it came to traveling with Bo Katan and the others — one of, if not the most major, being conversation. 

“What about the little one?”

He glanced in the Child’s direction, currently drawing in his notebook he had been given when your companion had come across it in the shops of Tattooine. “He’ll be fine. No one will be able to come on board.”

You sighed. Of the few things you truly disliked about the Mandalorian, one of them was that he treated the little one as older than he truly was. It didn’t matter that he was soon hitting his 51st birthday. He was mentally as old as a two-year old child. He didn’t truly understand the difference between safety and danger. He was still trying to grasp the whole concept of using the vacc tube.

You must have pulled a face then, as you caught a muffled sigh and one of your blasters being pushed into yours hands. “The sooner we get them, the sooner we can return.” You imagined he held your gaze as you looked at him, his words offering a semblance of comfort and security. “Let’s go.”

With a nod, you tucked your blasters into their respective holsters and kneeled in front of the little one. He immediately softly cooed in greeting, head raising and ears flicking in your direction. He held a red crayon in one hand, seemingly drawing a big, red dust cloud. “Hey, green bean. You stay on the ship, okay? No opening the doors and exploring without us.” He released a sound you knew to be one of disappointment (the same one he made when you said dinner was over), ears and head dropping as if being scolded. 

You smiled and touched his hand, heart fluttering as his three fingers curled around one of your own. “Draw your daddy a pretty picture, okay? We have to fill the entire cockpit.” He squealed at the idea, head dropping and resuming his drawing without another sound.

The sound of the airlock hissing open is what eventually tore you away.

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“Will you shut up?”

Your chest heaved as you forced oxygen into your lungs, currently behind the cover of a large tree and the Mandalorian a few feet away, seemingly doing the same as his chest rapidly rose and fell. You sent him a glare that spilled nothing but poison, wishing more than anything that he could see your face through your visor. “You’re the one who didn’t know the stupid bounty had a crew! It’s one against twenty!” You hissed, doing the utmost to ignore the burning in your shoulder. One had managed to a blaster shot in the tiny space between your armor and knew blood was no doubt staining the inside of it. At the back of your mind, you begrudgingly noted you’d have to paint the pretty armor again, once safe and sound in the ship. It was a painstakingly slow process. 

The Mandalorian apparently didn’t feel that comment deserved a response, as he merely glanced from cover to the enemy before them. Their footsteps were nearing closer, close enough to hear the shouts they shared between one another.

“You’re insufferable!” You stood and dug into your pouch, eventually coming across the tiny discs you had developed yourself and tossing them about the bushes. If anything were on your side in your current predicament, it was the flush greenery the planet held. It didn’t matter your armor’s coloring was a stark contrast, it was cover nonetheless.

Your companion was forced to follow your lead, the sound of his blaster sounding off and quickly followed by screams of pain. As an ugly blue-colored Quarren neared you, you kicked out a foot to knock his knee out from under him. 

It was official. You hated the Mandalorian. 

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“You could have gotten us killed.” He dragged the body of the bounty behind him, knocked out cold and his arms cuffed. The two of you had hardly spoken on the way back to the ship, though there was no shortage of dirty looks (from you) aimed at the back of his helmet. 

Per usual, there was no response from him as the ramp for the ship descended. 

“All for what? A few hundred credits?” Discarding your helmet and tossing it aside, you watched as he froze the bounty in carbonite. It was official — talking to a wall was more entertaining than talking to him. “There are hundreds of different ways to survive! But no, you have to do this bullshit?”

Abruptly and suddenly, as quick as a flash of lightning, he was standing just a breath from you. “If this lifestyle isn’t good enough for you princess,” he spat, “Then, by all means, get the fuck off my ship.”

You stared into his visor for a moment, resisting the urge to take a step back and away from the aura of anger and distaste he was exerting. While you certainly weren’t his biggest fan in the galaxy, you weren’t ignorant. You were more than aware of how capable this man was. Nonetheless, you knew you’d be able to hold your own against him. 

“And leave the kid with you?” You laughed, briefly enjoying the amount of sarcasm it dripped. “He’d be dead in a parsec.”

“I seem to remember how completely fine he was without you.” If you were being completely honest, that one hurt. You’d grown so attached to the little swamp rat and the idea of him being fine without you around made your stomach turn. 

“You’re an asshole.” There was a brief sound of static before he laughed. As if you had told a fucking joke. He leaned even closer then, arm raising to lean his weight against the wall behind you. Briefly, the smell of leather and something untamed filled your every sense. It was intoxicating, you wanted to drown in it until it was seared in your very brain. 

“Yeah?” He questioned, helmet dipped so low you could feel the coolness on your forehead. “Say it again.” He dared, a leather-covered hand inching up until his thumb touched your throat. It was nothing but a touch, but a thousand goosebumps blossomed at the contact alone. 

“You’re an...” The breath whooshed from your lungs as the touch left your throat and down to your hip, spun one-eighty and chest suddenly pressed against the wall of the Razor Crest. A bite of metal stung at your back, his beskar pressing into the divot between your own. He remained painfully silent, though deft fingertips began to explore the crevice between your back armor and the waistband of your pants. “Asshole.”

Before the word was out of your throat and past your lips, the buckle that kept your back and abdomen armor was released and the red armor was left clattering to the floor. Large hands were shoving at your trousers until they were loose at your ankles, unsure of just what was happening until a hand roughly grasped your ass, so tightly you were positive fingerprint marks were left behind. 

His touch returned to your neck, pulling you against his chest and causing the back of your head to painfully clash against his helmet. “You and that fucking mouth.” He murmured darkly, his own hips pressing against your bare skin. His length strained against his own slacks, offering a sick kind of relief that was anything but. It was a promise, but one you weren’t truly sure he would give — you knew he was enjoying the torment he was putting you through. “I’m going to shove my cock into that pretty mouth and make you shut up for once.”

You made a small noise at the back of your throat, purposely shoving your hips further against him. “Then do it.”

Before you could blink, you were spun once more and a leg skillfully kicked your own out from under you until you were on your knees. His visor was tilted low enough to know he was watching you, his head tilting just enough to say, “well?”. 

Without another thought, you were unclasping his slacks and releasing his cock. It sprung free wholeheartedly, his tip swollen a deep red and so pretty and so much. 

As if able to hear your thoughts, you caught the faint sound of amusement from him before his fingers curled into your hair and wrenched your head upwards so you were forced to meet his unseen gaze. “I think this is the longest you’ve ever been silent since we met, an’edee.” He took a short moment to trace his thumb over the nape of your head, securely and effectively collecting your hair into his fist. “Now, suck.”

You didn’t argue, lips falling open just in time for the slight jar he gave to your head towards his dick. He pushed no further than past his tip, giving you ample time to explore and appreciate. You did just that with silent glee, tongue swiping slow and languid laps, beginning at his shift and slowly upwards. He remained silent as you continued your slow exploration, the only indication that was he remotely affected being the slight twitch of his fingers in your hair. 

You lifted a hand to stroke his length with a lazy admiration, pushing your spit where your mouth had yet to touch... Yet. He was torturously thick and as your fingers traced the pulsing vein on the underside of him, he twitched and it seemed to surge forward on its own volition. As if it was attempting to push even more blood into his dick just to reach your mouth faster.

Nevertheless, he remained eerily but characteristically silent. 

You took him in your mouth once more, daring to take that much more and gently caressing what remained. It was hardly more than a caress, but enough to keep him interested and wanting. You set a slow, but steady pace, ferociously ignoring the fiery blaze that licked at your own heat. 

He stood there, still clad in his untouchable armor and blasters still in their holsters — untouchable. It didn’t matter his cock was in your mouth. He was still as much as in control as ever. 

It became a game. You wanted him to react. You wanted him to fall apart. 

Your gaze flickered back up to him as your pace quickened, more than aware that his own had never wavered from the sight of his cock steadily pumping into your hot mouth. You didn’t need to see through his darkened visor to know.

Just as you moved to caress one of his balls, still partially shielded by his slacks, he caught your wrist in a near-painful hold. A displeased growl echoed through his helmet, ripping you away from him and to your feet. You couldn’t help the wicked grin that settled on your lips, swiping your own spit from your bottom lip with a thumb. 

“You want to tease?” He questioned, one hand roughly guiding you to the table he tended to use as a make-shift worktable, bending you over it with ease while his other hand swiped for something against the wall. It wasn’t until the lights flickered shut and the sound of heavy metal clashing against metal stung at your ears, that you knew what was happening. 

He gave no warning as his tongue flirted between your folds, causing your body to naturally tighten at the abrupt intrusion. It was too good, too much, when there was little warning beforehand.

He lapped eagerly, rotating from languid, deep strokes of his tongue and abrupt, sharp sucking at your sensitive, singing clit. What his intentions were were incredibly clear. This wasn’t soft love between two people who loved one another. He was going to fuck you and tease your every limit, and make you love every fucking second of it. 

Each time your body would instinctively jump away, either from a harsh nip at your sensitive thighs or it simply being too much at once, an unforgiving hand would tighten its hold on your leg and drag you back to his mouth. 

In a matter of minutes, with his facial hair sharply biting at your skin and his unrelenting tongue, you were keening. However, he refused you any kind of release. The moment your thighs tightened or breath quickened, he would make a soft sound of amusement and deter his movements until your body sagged in anything but relief. 

At the third or fourth rotation of the infuriating game, you finally caved. “If you don’t let me fucking cum, I’m going to—,” He cut you off before you could finish, lifting himself up until his lips were touching the shell of your ear. 

“I thought you’d learned.” He used one hand to lick his fingers, rewetting his tip while the other caught you around your throat. Mid-breath, he impaled you with one thrust, seemingly unable to help his own gruff groan. “To keep that pretty mouth shut.” He breathed, using his grip at your throat to drag you back down with each thrust. 

A soft sound spilled from you each time his hips met your pelvic bone, promising you’d feel him for days, each time you moved. His pace was unrelenting, hardly ever giving you the time to even realize he was gone before he was thrusting back in. 

His teeth nipped at your ear as he fucked you near senselessly, quickly and nearly effortlessly drawing the orgasm you’d been begging for once more. “You like this, don’t you? Being fucked like this.” A string of profanities fell from you then, so fucking close and wanting to cum so badly. If he were to give it to you, you would have given him anything. 

“Want to cum, pretty thing?” He questioned, the lewd sounds of your fucking only worsening as he continued. “Beg for it.”

You did so without question. “Please, please, please—” A sharp sound from your throat cut you off, just as his free hand circled your clit once and you swore you saw the heavens above. Your orgasm was ripped out of you, squeezing yourself so tight around him, his grasp on your throat loosened and his forehead fell against your shoulder. 

He came with a low grunt, pulling out from your warmth and spilling on your back. He stood unmoving for the faintest of moments, as if aware you still hadn’t returned to the present just yet. 

You released a shaky breath and touched your forehead to the cool metal underneath you. “Well, fuck Mando. You’ve been holding out on me.”

He instantly sighed and you imagined the curt shake of his head. “That fucking mouth.”