#does it count as self ship if he's hunting me down

[angelbitezzz]

can't believe we're halfway through october and i havent drawn any of the bad sanses for gods sake what am i a fake fan?

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 6: SOME SORT OF SICK, SELF-INFLICTED SCHADENFREUDE 

synopsis: amanda confronts connor about his growing attachments. hank is found near-dead on his kitchen floor and brings about conversations that drudge up bad memories.

word count: 3.2k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: i promise i have a life i just have nothing to do. so double update. possibly triple if i don't crash and take a six hour nap

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

Connor’s mind palace was, for once, a little turbulent. Usually, it was sunny skies and pleasant, not-too-balmy warmth, but today, it’s raining. Not a torrential downpour, but not a light drizzle, either. 

He looks down and sees a closed umbrella in his hand. The rain doesn’t bother him, nor does the wet permeating his clothes. 

Instead of opening it, he starts walking along the marble that makes up the main path. His dress shoes don’t slip on the puddles that collect on it. Droplets of water collect in his hair and run down the apples of his cheeks to drip off his jaw. 

The strange stone glows before him, its reason for existing ever evading him. He kneels and reaches towards it, his skin peeling back in an automatic response. His hand just barely touches it, and it responds with a thrum of energy, as if alive.

He stands and takes a step back, heaving an artificial and unneeded breath. He turns his back on it and continues walking on the path.

Connor comes to a stop before Amanda, who is adorned in whites, greys, and a soft yellow. The bracelets that cover her forearms and the necklace that rests on her upper chest are fragmented white squares, contrasting against her dark skin. 

“Hello, Amanda,” Connor greets. 

“I’ve been expecting you,” Amanda says, her voice even and cool as ever. “Would you mind a little walk?”

Connor moves beside her and opens the umbrella, then swings it over his shoulder so that they’re both protected from the rain. They start walking, with Connor slowing his pace to match Amanda’s.

“Congratulations, Connor,” Amanda says. Connor turns to look at her just in time to see her faintly smile. “You managed to find that deviant. Tell me, what did you learn?”

“An Officer I’m working with found its diary, but it was encrypted,” Connor says. “It may take weeks to decipher.”

“What else?” Amanda prompts. 

“The walls of the apartment were covered with drawings of labyrinths and other symbols.” His eyebrows furrow a little. “Like the other deviants, it seemed obsessed with rA9. The Officer suggested that it was mere superstition, but… I’m not so sure.”

“Hm.” Amanda hums. “You came very close to capturing that deviant. It’s a pity you let it self-destruct.”

Connor would be a fool if he missed the tone of blame in Amanda’s voice. There’s a tiny voice between the lines of his code (that strangely sounds like yours) telling him to snap back. To tell her that it had a revolver, and that it put the barrel to the soft part of the underside of its chin before he had a chance to stop it.

But he doesn’t. He holds his tongue and molds the words to be polite, like his program tells him to do. (And he blames himself, like his program tells him to do.)

“I knew deviants had a tendency to self-destruct under extreme stress,” Connor says. “But I didn’t expect it to use its last bullet to deactivate itself. I should’ve anticipated that – the Officer even told me that it still had a bullet in the chamber.”

“And you’d readily trust the word of a Soviet?” Amanda asks. 

“Not any Soviet,” Connor responds. “Just this one.”

Amanda gives a disapproving hum. “You easily go against your instructions when in their presence. They told you to leave their apartment, and yet you insisted on staying.”

“My second-top priority is the safety of my partners, just behind hunting deviants,” Connor says. “There were no deviants present. The Officer was hurt. I simply offered my help.”

“They weren’t hurt,” Amanda points out. “It was just their prosthetic that needed repairs.”

“Like I told them, unsatisfactory repairs could possibly cause worse damage than the initial damage,” Connor says. He sets his jaw as his programming nudges him. “But you’re right. I should’ve listened to their instructions.”

Amanda nods, like she approves of Connor’s self-blame. “How are your relationships with your partners developing?”

“As I grow closer to the Officer, it seems I grow closer to Hank,” Connor says. “It’s like they come as a pair, as unlikely as that is. They don’t mind androids, but refused to elaborate on why Hank despises them. It seems some topics are off-limits, like that and the story behind their half-leg prosthetic. I’ll have to look into it on my own.”

When he looks to the side, Amanda’s stopped a few feet behind him. “We don’t have much time.”

Connor turns to face her fully. 

“Deviancy continues to spread. And it’s only a matter of time before the media finds out about it,” she continues. “We need to stop this, whatever it takes.”

“I will solve this investigation, Amanda,” Connor promises. “I won’t disappoint you.”

Amanda glances away, then looks back to Connor. “The Officer just sent you a message about a new case that just came in. They’re asking if you want to find Anderson and investigate it.”

With that, she turns and walks away, her gown and flowing fabrics dappled by the rain.

“What purpose does this serve, Officer?” Connor asks, examining a little toy that dangles from your rearview mirror. It’s a little plastic figure, no more than three inches in height, of Soviet Boy – a little guy dressed politely in a blue shirt, shorts, and a red ascot stamped with a golden hammer and sickle.

“It’s just something I brought over,” you say, your eyes on the road. “It’s Soviet Boy. Don’t you recognize him?”

“He’s the star of many animated shorts geared towards children featuring themes of anti-capitalism and pro-communism,” Connor says. 

You laugh and adjust your grip on the steering wheel. “You’re looking stuff up again.”

“I… I am,” Connor admits after a few moments. 

“No shame in that,” you say. “I’m… I’m glad you’re trying to relate to me. Not a lot of people ask about the little bits and bobs I have scattered around.”

“Why not?” Connor asks. “You can tell a lot about a person from what they surround themselves with.”

“Please,” you laugh. “Don’t psychoanalyze me. Save it for Hank. Speaking of…”

You pull off the road and park on the side of the street. You put your car into park and switch off the ignition. “We’re here.”

Connor follows you as you walk up the path to Hank’s cute cookie-cutter suburban home. You ring the buzzer for a second, causing a harsh sound to go off inside the house.

“Hank!” You call. “It’s me and Connor!”

No response. You pull away and turn to the potted plants and start digging through the loose dirt. 

“What are you doing?” Connor asks, almost incredulously.

“Trying to find his spare key. It was here last time,” you say. “Try the buzzer again.”

Connor holds down the buzzer for more than ten seconds this time. You laugh softly and wipe your hands of dirt. 

“Try to find a key by the backdoor,” you say. “I’ll continue rooting around here.”

“Got it.” Connor disappears around the corner. 

As you turn to another unsearched-through potted plant, you hear the shatter of glass. Your head immediately snaps up and you run around the side of the house.

You turn the corner just in time to see Connor launch himself through Hank’s kitchen window. You peek your head in and see Connor almost cowering away from Sumo.

“Ah – easy, S-Sumo!” He tries, holding up a hand. There’s obvious nervousness and a slight hint of fear in his voice. “I’m your friend, see?”

You stick a hand through the broken window to lightly tug on Sumo’s drooping jowls. “​​Hey, big guy! Don’t worry, you big baby. He’s fine.”

You glance away from Sumo and see Hank, sprawled out on the ground. Alcohol pools around him, and you can just barely see the handle of a revolver nearby.

“Check his breathing!” You bark, pointing at Hank. “Roll him on his side! I don’t want him choking on his own vomit!”

Connor runs over to Hank’s side and kneels. You brace yourself and clamber through the window awkwardly, landing on your back with a guttural groan. 

“I’m fine.” You brush pieces of broken glass off your clothes, careful not to cut yourself. “How’s Hank? Is he okay?”

Connor looks up at you. “I suspect an ethylic coma.”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” You snap.

“An alcohol-induced coma,” Connor says. “His heart shows no signs of trauma, but there is slight arrhythmia.”

You kneel by Connor and pick up the bottle of whiskey and the gun. You set them on the table, then look down at Hank.

“Oh, Hank,” you mutter, nudging him softly. “Что же ты наделал?”

“Lieutenant?” Connor says, almost in a sing-song voice. He lightly slaps Hank’s face, causing him to groan and sputter. 

“Wake up, Lieutenant! It’s me, Connor!” Connor brings his hand down harder across Hank’s face, causing him to startle awake.

“We’re going to sober you up for your own safety.” Connor helps Hank up, similar to how Hank helped you on the roof. “I have to warn you, this may be unpleasant.”

“Heeey!” Hank slurs. “Leave me alone, you fuckin’ android! Get the fuck outta my house!”

You slot yourself under Hank’s other arm, helping Connor get him off the ground. “Come on, you goddamn drunkard. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

“Fuckin’ liar!” Hank groans your name. “You’re – you lied to me! Half-android…”

He then fully turns to you (which seems to be a difficult task, as uncoordinated as he is). He says your name again, softer, but still slurred. “I… I lost your flask.”

“Don’t worry, Hank,” you say. The weight of his flask weighs heavy against your chest in your inner jacket pocket. “You’re okay.” 

You look over at Connor. “Where are we taking him?”

“The bathroom,” Connor says. He starts to walk, and you match his pace. 

“Sumo!” Hank shouts. “Attack!”

Sumo gives a full-bellied bark, but doesn’t move from where he’s parked on the floor. Hank praises him with a slurred “Good dog.”

You turn the corner in tandem with Connor. “The bathroom’s on the right. I’ll open the door. Will you be able to hold him?”

“Yes.” Connor steadies his grip around Hank’s waist.

You let go and open the door to the bathroom, ushering them inside. You move out of the way as Connor practically drags Hank along.

“Leave me alone, you asshole!” Hank slurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Connor sets Hank on the edge of the bathtub. Hank looks around, confused, then back up at Connor. “Oh, nuh-uh. I don’t wanna bath, thank you.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant.” Connor pushes Hank down so that he’s sitting in the tub. “It’s for your own good.”

As soon as Connor turns on the showerhead, Hank howls with pleas of “Turn it off! Turn it off!”

Connor lets the torture continue for a couple more seconds before turning off the water. Hank looks around, disoriented, then up at you and Connor. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“A homicide was reported 43 minutes ago,” Connor says. “We couldn’t find you at Jimmy’s Bar, so we came to see if you were at home.”

“Jesus.” Hank groans as he sits up on the edge of the tub. “I must be the only cop in the world that gets assaulted in his own house by his own fuckin’ android…”

Hank points at you. “And you! You didn’t do anythin’ to stop him?”

“You were drunk, Hank.” You shrug. “You know I hate seeing you like this.”

He looks away, shame painted clearly on his face. He tries to stand, but wobbles in place. Connor catches him as he starts to fall and sits him back in the bathtub.

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” He eventually asks Connor. “Just go with them and leave me here.”

“Unfortunately, I cannot,” Connor says. “I’ve been programmed to investigate this case, and I can’t do it without you. I need both the Officer and the Lieutenant for maximum efficiency.”

“Beat it! You hear me?” Hank shouts as he pulls himself up to sit on the edge of the bathtub. “Get the hell outta here!”

Connor looks at you with some kind of look on his face – the look that lets you know that he’s up to no good. He leisurely strolls toward the exit of the bathroom, slow and deliberate.

“I understand. It probably wasn’t interesting anyway,” he says. “A man found dead in a sex club downtown… guess they’ll have to solve the case without us!”

You hide a laugh behind a cough as Hank mumbles, “Y’know, probably wouldn’t do me any harm to get some air.”

He shifts on the edge of the bathtub. “There’s some clothes in the bedroom there.”

Connor picks up on what he’s asking for. “I’ll go get them.”

“I’ll go check on Sumo,” you say. “Make sure he has enough water and all that. Don’t choke on your own vomit while I’m gone.”

“I’ll try,” Hank mumbles as he drags himself to the toilet.

You wander to the kitchen. Sumo barks at you as you pass by, his tail thumping as it hits the floor. You squat in front of him, scratching behind his ear. He leans into your touch and one of his hind feet repeatedly taps against the floor.

“Oh, scratchy spot?” You laugh softly. “Feel good, Мишка?”

A voice sounds behind you. “What is a ‘scratchy spot’?” 

You yelp, shooting to your feet and stumbling backwards. Your feet catch on Sumo and you can feel yourself falling –

Connor catches both your arms, pulling you to your feet. He pulls a little too quickly, sending you into his chest. You move away, not giving yourself time to savor the coolness of his body against yours. 

“Are you okay?” Connor asks. 

“You keep scaring me,” you say. “I should bell you. Like my cat.”

“I feel like that would be detrimental to the case,” he says. “It would give away the element of surprise that’s needed on some outings.”

You look over at him. “That was sarcasm.”

“I apologize,” Connor says. “I don’t… easily pick up on it.”

“It’s okay.” You turn back to Sumo and kneel down next to him. “You okay, boy? Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Sumo’s tail wags and he pants happily. “Good,” you coo. “I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I did.”

“Is Sumo… normally this docile?” Connor asks.

“Yeah.” You look up at him. “Wanna pet him? He’s soft.”

Connor kneels beside you, tentatively reaching out a hand. He repeatedly pulls back and reaches forward, as if wondering if what you said was true.

“You’re taking too long.” You take his hand and put it on Sumo’s shoulder, then move it in a petting motion. After a few strokes, you let go. Connor continues on his own.

You stand and smile to yourself. Connor looks nice like this. Like he’s a socially-stunted friend (which you immediately question, because – is he your friend?) and you’re teaching him how to interact with the world.

Connor looks up at you, still petting Sumo. “Am I doing it right?”

“Do you see Sumo complaining?” You laugh. “He’d be happy with any affection you give him.”

You look over at the kitchen. The revolver is still on the table. “I… I actually need to go check something.”

“The gun?” Connor asks. He stands, ready to follow.

“Yes.” You move over to the table and pick up the revolver. You flick it to the side, and the chamber opens. The bullet is in the right position to be fired.

“Ask him what he was doing,” you tell Connor softly. Your eyes never leave the bullet.

“Hank, what were you doing with the gun?” Connor calls.

“Russian roulette!” Hank shouts back, his words still a bit slurred. “Wanted to see how long I could last… must’ve collapsed before I found out.”

“You were lucky,” Connor says. “The next shot would’ve killed you.”

“We were all lucky,” you say, just quiet enough for Connor to hear. You pluck the bullet from the chamber and put it in your pocket, then put the gun down. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy cleaning brain-matter-confetti off the walls.”

“Is Hank getting help?” Connor asks. “Psychological help, I mean.”

“No.” You look at the face-down picture frame on the table. You already know whose photo it is. “Not for my lack of trying, though.”

Connor reaches for the small frame, and you catch his wrist. You hesitate for a moment, then let go. He needs to know this. Deserves to know this.

He picks it up, turning it face-side-up. It’s the photo that would’ve been used for Cole’s kindergarten graduation. Just seeing the picture causes a deep pang in your chest, so painful and real you’d think someone had actually stabbed you.

You grab the picture from Connor’s hands, your own shaking a little as you return it to its original face-down position. “Don’t talk about this to Hank.”

“I won’t,” Connor responds, his voice just as quiet.

You grab his upper arm, looking him in the eye. “I’m serious. Please.”

Connor lays a hand over where yours rests. “I promise.”

You bring your hand away and step back, forcing distance between you and him. You look over at the face-down photo. Even just the small frame, the one that holds the photo of that small child hurts to look at. 

“Earlier, Hank said he lost his flask,” Connor says. You’re glad for the change in topic. “Why did he seem so apologetic?”

“It was a gift.” You pull out the flask from your inner jacket pocket, handing it to Connor. It still has whiskey in it. “A gag gift. One to make fun of him.”

He examines it thoroughly, running a thumb over the engraving that reads Anderson. “A lot of detail was put into the lettering. And the date on the bottom is November of 2031.”

“For when he turned Lieutenant,” you say. “He used to be really straight edge – only drinking on weekends, and only socially. It was funny because he’d never find a use for a flask.”

“But he did.” Connor looks up and meets your eyes. You look away, your face suddenly hot with shame.

“I should’ve taken it earlier,” you say softly. 

“It’s not your fault,” Connor says, his voice soft and compassionate. You really hope it isn’t fake. “You gave it to him years before…”

His eyes turn to the face-down photo frame. You take the flask back, turning it over in your hands.

“Before everything happened,” you finish. “I still feel ashamed. No words will change that.”

“Just keep the flask away from him,” Connor says. “It won’t keep him from drinking, but it might make you feel better.”

“Maybe.” You run a thumb over the engraving. Anderson stares back at you, in neat Courier New. “God, I hope so…”

[destielfanfic]

from the inbox, #14

It's been some time since I answered some asks from our inbox. Here's some quick answer with links to our Tags Page.

I was wondering if y'all have any time loop recs. Just wondering if there's anything out there in that vein

The first fic that comes to mind is Second Verse, Same as the First by oatmeal_queen. This is a classic Groundhog day fic. We also have #meddling!gabriel tag and some in some fics Gabriel traps Dean and Cas in some other reality. It's not exactly a time loop, but they do realize that something is not right.

The Best Years of Our Lives, My Ass by ireallyhatecornnuts 

Destiel, Actually by bloodism

Trope Springs Eternal by violethaze 

Do you know any fics where cas is a baseball player?

We sure do! Check out our athlete!cas tag and A Fine Line by cloudyjenn!

Hi, is there any recomendations for super hero Dean? (Guess who watches the other kripke show

Check our #superheroes tag! And a quick tag search on AO3 brought up this fic:

one little Soldier Boy, left all alone by Castielslostwings [NC-17, 57,000 word count]

Known to the world as the all-American superhero called "Soldier Boy", Dean was raised by Vought International to be exactly that and nothing more. His life is all fame, fortune, and fucking. Objectively awesome, right up until the moment when he's accosted in an elevator by someone claiming to be his brother, a man who insists that Dean's entire life has been built on a lie, and what happens next changes everything. As if unraveling his true identity while on the run from his former employers—and the closest thing he's ever had to family—isn't enough, Dean's brainwashed best friend (who he is definitely not in love with, thanks) is hot on his trails with marching orders to take him out for good. What's a devilishly handsome superhero with a dick the size of his forearm to do?

Hi, I'm fairly new to the Destielfanfic scene and I wanted help on how to find specific kidfics where Dadstiel and dad!Dean's children are Claire and Jack. Can you help me please 🥹

Welcome to destiel and dadstiel! Fics with Dean and Cas raising their kids, together or separately, are tagged with #kid!fic tag on our blog. Feel free to browse all 10 pages of destiel kidfics, and when you are done with them, check out a brand new fic collection on AO3, Dadstiel Minibang 2024.

Hi! I’ve been hunting for a fic where Cas has chaotic Misha energy. I’ve checked hipster!Cas and fuckup!Cas tags but haven’t found one yet. Any suggestions?

Those are good tags to look through, but maybe they don't really capture Misha's chaotic energy. But then gain, what does? Check out #2014!cas tag which has non- depressive AU fics where Castiel's characterization was inspired by the endverse Cas. There's also a #snarky!cas tag.

It's hard to capture Misha's chaotic energy through Castiel's character, and it will always be a YMMV kinda thing. Here's a short rec list of some fics that capture at least some of his character better known traits.

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets (Cas loves poetry)

Castiel Novak: Tomb Raider by emwebb17 (Cas is a daring explorer)

Fearson’s floating cigarette. by orange_crushed (Cas is kind)

Freebies and Oak Trees by violue (unconventional celebrity Cas)

Go Down With This Ship by PorcupineGirl (Cas is self confident)

Lovingly Crafted and Tenderly Packaged by janie_tangerine (Cas is kind and caring)

One White Lie by komodobits (Cas is bad at lying)

Try-Something Tuesday by almaasi (Cas surprises Dean)

The Wish Machine by justkeeponwriting (Cas is selfless)

Destiel fanworks on AO3 - 118,470 (October 12, 2024)

You can find previous From The Inbox posts here.

If you enjoyed the fic, please drop by the archive (AO3) and let the author know with your comments and/or kudos!

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

This is just a question, not counting oc's, who do you think would be the best girlfriend for Arthur? Do you think it could be Mary Linton, Mary-Beth, Sadie or Charlotte Balfour? You can also mention Charles ^^

In my opinion, I love the story Arthur had with Mary, but with Charlotte he was so sweet; I don't see him with Sadie (especially since she still has Jake very much in mind) and I think Mary-Beth looks better with Kieran (although I feel that she did have a crush on Arthur but he respected her because of the age difference, I mean he was 36 and she was 21.)

But what do you think about all this? Who do you think could have been the perfect pair for Arthur in canon? <3

Hi Crystal! Sorry I didn't answer your question sooner! Here is my very long rambling about this.

My reasoning is as follows; Arthur needs someone who can see the best in him as he usually can't see it in himself. Someone who could bring him up and find virtues in him he can't see. I think he would also need some physical affection and someone able to calm him down when his bitterness or angriness wins the better of him. Most of all, I think he expects loyalty from his s/o, and if not unconditional love, a serious relationship at least, maybe a deeper connection at best.

With all this in mind, my first choice would be Charles. I know Arthur isn't canonically bi but you said I could mention him so here we are. There is a reason why this ship is so popular in the fandom: Arthur and Charles definitely have a deep chemistry. The thing that struck me the most about them was the immaculate respect they have for each other, and their trust is beyond any level! Never once does Arthur suspects Charles to be the rat, never once does his opinion of him flattens; Arthur cares about him, is interested in his story, in his wellbeing... Charles definitely is one of the few who sees the good man Arthur can be, who sees beyond his tough facade and "dumb brute enforcer" role. Charles is also a quiet and very calm man; I think his natural demeanor could really match Arthur's more anxious way of thinking and heated actions.

Mary-Beth is a very sweet girl, I like her character but she doesn't strike me as the perfect match for our outlaw. We know she doesn't believe Arthur is a cold-hearted killer and he takes the time to talk with him at camp, so it's a plus, but it ends there imo.

Same goes for Sadie; her loyalty and the trust they share is very meaningful for Arthur. What bothers me is that we don't see Sadie before her loss. During the game, she's a changed woman; even in the epilogue. Losing her husband clearly has impacted her and I think she wasn't that cruel/impulsive before. To me she's really good in the role of Arthur's best friend/sister. She's a bit too much like him, more as a reflection of himself (both share losses from loved ones, both are very action-based and brave, both can be impulsive and brutal).

Charlotte is an interesting one to think about. I love her missions and how Arthur is helping her without judging her life choices (you want to live on your own in the middle of nowhere knowing you would probably die from starvation to honor your dead husband? Okay, I'll show ya how to hunt). I think she could fit pretty well considering her loyalty, her determination, courage, and sweet personality; but we don't have a lot of material to work with, sadly.

Finally, I know Mary has a lot of haters around the fandom but I'm definitely not one of them. She, like Charles, is one of the only ones who saw the good in Arthur, and probably one of the first ones in his life, ever. From what we can see in the missions and understand from their relationship, I see her as a caring and devoted lover even though she had to end their relationship. Arthur is a criminal but she didn't see him as just that. Until the very end, she wanted to believe in his better self, and to me it's one of the most important things: Mary was there to bring out the good in Arthur and lead him to a better path. We sadly know he chose not to follow it, but Mary was still there after all this time, trying to make a better version of him, and save him from this circle of violence he's stuck in. Mary will remain imo, even though their story is tragic, one of the best choices for Arthur.

NB. These are my personal opinions! I'm not claiming that it's absolutely true, feel free to disagree and argue with me!

[thetimemoves]

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @raina-at @discordantwords and @totallysilvergirl, thank you!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

20

2. What's your total A03 word count?

57, 682. Not a lot for 20 works, but 10 of them are 221b ficlets. I only have one fic over 10k (it's just over 11.3k).

3. What fandoms do you write for?

BBC Sherlock

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Never Trust to General Impressions

Abditory

Feel My Heart Banging Like a Gun

Out of Every Nowhere

Forth They Went Together

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, I do. I'm so thrilled to get them and appreciate it when someone takes the time to leave a comment. It makes me giddy, it does!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I like to end on a happy, or at least hopeful, note but occasionally angst comes out on top. I think it's probably a tie between these two: Paperweight, which is Sherlock's POV when Molly gives him John's letter at the end of TST; and With Regrets, which is John's POV as he says goodbye to Sherlock in the hospital after the beating in TLD.

Both are 221b ficlets, so at least it's a sharp punch of angst and not an extended bout? Not kidding about that punch, though (sorry not sorry).

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

This is a tough one, but I think these are probably the happiest:

bitter, sweet

Feel My Heart Banging Like a Gun

Abditory

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No, thankfully. Hopefully that continues.

9. Do you write smut?

I love me some good smut, but I don't write it (yet). Certain bits in Feel My Heart Banging Like a Gun and Steady as They Go are the closest I've come so far, but they're not smutty.

10. Do you write crossovers?

No. I don't. One of my WIPs is a Stand By Me/The Body (Stephen King) fusion, but I'm not interested in writing any crossovers right now.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, which amazes me! Two have been translated into Russian.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

@splix71 and I began to plot out a Sherlock bounty hunter AU I had initially come up with back in 2019. We had so much fun coming up with names and theories and plot points, so much fun. Unfortunately, she had to step back due to health reasons (FUCK CANCER) and afterwards I couldn't bring myself to go back to it. I doubt I ever will, as clever as I think some of the things we came up with were. I don't know that there is a place anymore for Baker Street Bonds, Yarders Bail Service, or Reichenbach Bail, but I will always treasure the time we spent on it together (that she, a most amazing writer, wanted to write something with me, still blows my mind).

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Mulder/Scully and Sherlock/John.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a Sherlock/John hunt the Bogeyman fic I've been poking at for YEARS. I love a lot of what I've written, but I wrote myself into a corner and haven't quite figured out how to get out. At this point I despair of ever finishing it, but never say never.

16. What are your writing strengths?

221b ficlets. I think I've done well with these in conveying lots of emotion in little moments.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Clever case fic and complicated plots. I can also get a bit wordy in my beginnings sometimes (ironic, considering my ability to write a strong 221b ficlet) and need a gentle nudge to cut to the action.

Also, if I'm going to be brutally honest, I tend to walk away too quickly when I get stuck and don't make myself work out the problem right then. Hence my many languishing WIPs.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've not done it yet and don't see it happening down the road either.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

For published fic, BBC Sherlock. There might be some self-insert stories with River Phoenix in my very distant past.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Ooof, this is a hard one because every finished fic is a victory for me. That said, I'll always have a soft spot for Abditory. I had been in love with Sherlock since 2011 and devoured fic at an unholy rate, but was never dared write my own until 2017, after the last series. Better late than never, right? I also really loved writing Never Trust to General Impressions, with its slice-of-life looks at Sherlock and John's evolving relationship in relation to canon (with a not-so-canon twist on TRF). Funnily enough, both are 5+1 fics.

This was fun! I have loved reading all of these from everyone too. I'm going to be That Person and tag everyone who wants to do this but hasn't been tagged yet. Please do share!

[noxemma]

(Not) Too Sweet for Me

Word Count: 2,376

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Fluff, Just all the fluff, Inspired by a Hozier Song, Inspired by Taylor Swift, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Scheming Sam Winchester, Idiots in Love, silly and sweet, Sam Winchester is a mastermind, Sam Winchester is So Done with Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Established Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Self-indulgent fluff, No Beta, my only excuse is that this started as an incoherent and semi-delirious text message

Summary: “Dude! How come Cas gets to pick the music?”

“Well, Sammy, he actually helped with dinner, so he gets a say and I happen to like a little Taylor every once in a while.” Dean retorts but he can’t quite meet his brother’s glare.

OR

Dean and Cas are listening to Taylor Swift as they make dinner. Sam complains and is subjected to even more Taylor Swift so he makes them listen to Too Sweet as revenge, although it doesn't have the results he thinks it will (or does it?).

“We’re back!” Sam shouts as he and Eileen make their way toward the bunker kitchen.

“You’re just in time, the burgers are almost done. Hunt went okay? No issues or anything?” Dean raises his voice to be heard over the music playing through the speaker on the counter.

“Yeah, it was just a vengeful spirit. An easy salt and burn cleared it right up.” Eileen answers while Sam rolls his eyes and throws a megawatt bitch face at Dean.

“Taylor Swift? Really, Dean?” Sam groans.

“Hey! The cook is like the driver, which means that I get to pick the music and you get to sit down and shut your cakehole,” Dean waves the knife he’s using to cut tomato menacingly across the metal counter. “Or you can make your own food and I can dump your southwest bean burgers in the trash where they belong.”

Sam turns an indignant face toward Eileen, but she just laughs.

“Sorry, Sam. I actually agree with Dean here. Plus, I like her songs too.” Dean gives her a wink and signs thank you while Sam huffs in frustration and slumps into a seat at the table across from Cas.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m the one who requested Taylor Swift. Jack and Claire have been listening to her a lot recently in preparation for the concert. I didn’t like it at first, but I must admit that some of the songs are very catchy and pleasing to listen to.”

“Dude! How come Cas gets to pick the music?”

“Well, Sammy, he actually helped with dinner, so he gets a say and I happen to like a little Taylor every once in a while.” Dean retorts but he can’t quite meet his brother’s glare.

Sam narrows his eyes, looking between Dean, clearly hard at work in the kitchen, and Cas, clearly just sitting at the table. “Oh yeah? How exactly did Cas help with dinner, ‘cause it looks like he’s just sitting around like the rest of us.”

“Dean, it’s okay. He’s right, I haven't really done anything to help.” Cas gets up and plucks Dean’s phone off the counter to switch the music. Before he can even get in the numbers of Dean’s passcode (222967) the phone is plucked from his hands and deposited into Dean’s pocket.

“He’s my emotional support since you two decided you wanted to go on a hunting date and didn’t invite us.” Dean emphasizes his point by sticking out his tongue. “So, we’re at least going to finish the songs Cas queued or I’ll purposely burn your bean patties, capiche?”

Cas shuffles awkwardly back to his seat.

"Ughhhhh, fine,” Sam groans, dropping his head to the table in resignation.

“Don’t let him fool you. He listens to Taylor Swift with me, and he enjoys it,” Eileen mouths to Dean.

“Oh, I know.” Dean mouths back with a grin and a wink.

After a few more songs, Dean finally tells Sam he can join the jam session and add songs to the queue. Sam thinks for a minute before he starts grinning and typing furiously.

“Hey, hey! Don’t make me revoke your privileges.”

“What? I haven’t done anything.” Sam blinks back at him, the picture of innocence, but Dean can practically hear the yet that Sam didn’t say.

“Uh, huh. Sure. Just for that: Cas you have another request?”

“Oh, uh,” Cas’ eyes dart toward Sam.

“Don’t worry about him, in fact, don't even look at him," Dean tells Cas over exasperated moose noises, "What do you want?”

“Would you mind listening to Shake It Off again?” Cas asks softly and Dean feels his heart melt a little. Cas has already queued that one several times today, but Dean finds that the repetition doesn’t bug him like it normally would, especially not when Cas begins dancing without realizing it.

“Not at all. I like that one too.” Dean knows his words come out too soft; he tries to recover before anyone else can notice, "You feel free to add stuff too, Eileen.”

“Thanks, but I’m actually enjoying your and Cas’ playlist,” Eileen admits, sticking her tongue out at Sam when he lets out a groan.

Sam’s pick begins playing as Dean preps the buns for when the patties get done. It starts out low and slow and folky and he’s sure he’s never heard it before but the singer sounds familiar. Dean sees Eileen and Sam signing back and forth but it’s too fast and beyond his limited ASL knowledge, so he just shrugs it off. He might have skipped the song if he’d known that Eileen was telling his brother You're the worst. You really shouldn’t push them or Sam’s reply It’s for their own good.

“Who sings this?”

“Hozier. It’s new.” Sam answers, giving him a strange look.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize he’d released new stuff.” Dean finds himself thinking it sounds more like Eileen’s taste in music than Sam’s, but it’s not bad. “What’s it called?”

“Too Sweet,” Sam replies casually. Dean’s too busy typing it in to notice the conspiratorial look that Eileen gives Sam.

Then the chorus hits and Dean stills for a moment.

I take my whiskey neat,

My coffee black and my bed …

Dean lets out a huff of laughter when he sees Cas whip his head toward Dean and raise his brow with amusement.

“Ha, same! Do-” Dean starts to jokingly ask Sam if he thinks the song was written about him but the next lyrics steal the words.

You’re too sweet for me,

You’re too sweet for me ...

Dean’s eyes immediately seek out Cas, who is looking right back at him with longing that he quickly tries to hide. Dean’s cheeks heat up and he can’t bring himself to look away even when Cas does.

“Dean! Careful the burgers are gonna burn!”

Sam's shout startles Dean into action and he flips them just in time. He quickly decides to focus entirely on serving up the food and avoiding blue eyes, which works until the middle of the second verse.  

You know you’re bright as the morning,

As soft as the rain,

Pretty as a vine,

As sweet as a grape

Once again, he’s compelled to lock eyes with his angel. His mouth opens to try and make a joke of it, but nothing comes out.

Sam and Eileen share a knowing look and begin signing again; Cas and Dean are too lost in each other’s eyes to notice.

The song ends and the room feels far too heavy for the upbeat sound of Shake It Off.

“So? How’d you like it? I thought it was kind of spot on for you, Dean.” Sam breaks the silence, an odd tone in his voice. He winces as Eileen shoots him a warning look and kicks him under the table. “Only about the whiskey and the coffee though, of course.”

“It, it was … good and the whiskey and coffee part are very me but uh,” Dean takes a shaky breath and stares directly at Cas with a shy smile, “I definitely like things that are probably too sweet for me.” 

Cas’ eyes go wide before dropping to his hands. 

Eileen’s mouth falls open as she looks between Dean and Cas before asking Sam, in sign, if this is actually happening.

Sam, looking equally surprised that his impromptu plot appears to have succeeded, just shrugs at her. No one says anything and another Taylor Swift song begins to play.

Eventually, Sam takes it upon himself to break the silence again. “Well, um, I think Eileen and I are going to work on some ... lore research. We’ll just take our plates to my room ‘cause it's pretty dry stuff and we don’t want to bore you.”

Eileen rolls her eyes at the lame excuse to give Cas and Dean some privacy but goes along anyway and grabs two of the bean burgers Dean has finished assembling.

Dean thinks he hears Eileen call Sam a coward as they exit into the hallway but he’s too hyperaware of Cas still avoiding his gaze to really care all that much. He silently begs the angel to look at him, to give him some glimpse of what is going on in his head. Dean needs something to reassure him that Cas isn’t avoiding looking at him because he is horrified by Dean’s attempt at flirting.

“Whelp I guess it’s just us for dinner then. Typical Sammy to bitch about the music then ditch.” Dean tries to break the tension and pretend he didn’t just flirt with his friend in front of his family. He sets their beef burgers down at the table.

“Thank you. It looks delicious, Dean.” Perpetually chapped lips curve into a small, lovely smile and blue eyes shine up at him. His heart starts pattering in a series of impossible acrobatics like it's going for a gold medal. His breath catches and he knows his face is a few seconds from telegraphing his feelings in bright pink. He quickly retreats back to the fridge to take some deep breaths. “Anyway, uh, you want a beer?”

“Hmm? Oh, sure. That would be nice. Are you ... are you going to have whiskey?” Cas tries to tease, but the words come out gentle. Dean turns and sees the smile falter as Cas mistakes his hope for confusion. Before he can get out even a fake laugh, Cas is shoving his burger into his mouth and averting his gaze.

Dean brings Cas his bottle of beer and sits down next to him. Cas may have started eating the burger as a distraction, but it now looks like he’s genuinely enjoying it. He’s making ridiculous happy little noises and Dean can’t bring himself to say anything that might ruin the moment. He’s about to take a bite of his own burger when Cas finally comes up for air after nearly inhaling three quarters of his burger. Dean's hands stop, his mouth hangs open, and he can’t do anything but stare at where Cas is trying to lick a bit of runaway ketchup off his chin as he reaches for the beer.

Can’t you see that I’m the one who understands you,

Been here all along so why can’t you see,

You belong with me

“You know, I think I really am in the mood for something sweet,” Dean finds himself saying; the words spilling out without his permission.

“Oh, um, I don’t know if we have anything...” Cas’ brow furrows as he tries to think if there are any sweets that might be hidden in the bunker’s pantry or fridge.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to ...” Dean trails off as he leans forward and plants a quick kiss at the corner of Cas’ mouth before he can chicken out. He sits back and begins to quietly panic when Cas simply stares back at him with surprise. When he can’t handle it anymore, Dean tears his gaze away and starts fiddling with a hole in his jeans. Discouraged and embarrassed he begins mentally cursing himself and Hozier and Taylor for giving him stupid ideas.

“Uh, sorry. You still had ketchup on your face and all these dumb songs… I thought it would be funny but it was stupid and rude and I’m sorry. If you want, we can just ... We can forget it ever happened,” Dean tells the table. He doesn’t notice that Cas’ fingers have crept up to rest on the side of his lips, like if he keeps them there, he might be able hold on to the sensation of Dean’s kiss.

At Cas’ lack of response, Dean starts eating his burger again, even if it tastes like ash and gets stuck in his throat.

Kiss me once ‘cause you know I had a long night

Cas tries to speak, tries to find the right way to tell Dean that it wasn’t stupid at all, to tell him that the last thing he wants to do is forget this happened. He desperately wants another kiss but he doesn’t how to ask and the words all get jumbled and scatter as soon as they form. So, he gives up on trying to think and just dips his finger into the ketchup still overflowing from his burger and wipes the red condiment on his bottom lip.

Kiss me twice ‘cause it’s gonna be alright

“Dean?”

Dean’s head shoots up at the breathless call.

Three times ‘cause I waited my whole life,

One, two, one, two three, four!

Once his gaze to breaks free from studying the soft hope in Cas’ eyes it drifts down to the ketchup smeared on his beautiful lips. 

I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings, uh-huh

"You missed a spot.”

That’s right, darlin’, you’re the one I want

It’s all the invitation Dean needs. His hand goes to the back of Cas’ neck, thumb gently caressing his cheek as he slowly leans in again. Cas’ eyes flutter closed and his lips part slightly, breath coming out quick in anticipation as Dean’s lips hover over his. A gasp slips out when Dean’s tongue clears away the ketchup before delving deeper.

They kiss each other in a haze, eager exploration building into desperate passion. They come up for air not quite knowing how Cas ended up straddling Dean or when they’d given each other matching hickeys but not really caring either.

“We should probably move this to my room before Sam or Eileen bring their dishes out.” Dean murmurs, not really paying attention to his own words as he finds a spot on Cas’ jaw that he’s sure he hasn't kissed yet.

“That’s, mmmh, probably a good idea,” Cas replies, not making a single move to disentangle himself from Dean’s lap. After a few more slow kisses, Dean takes it upon himself to lift Cas up and carry him to his bed.

Neither one remembers to grab Dean’s phone or turn off the speaker and Taylor’s voice follows them down the hall.

Call my bluff, call you “Babe,”

Have my back, yeah, every day,

Feels like home, stay in bed,

The whole weekend,

It’s nice to have a friend,

It’s nice to have a friend,

It’s nice to have a friend.

Bonus:

“Do you think they’re getting suspicious?” Sam asks Eileen as he queues Love Story next.

“Of the fact that you’re still in the jam session and playing all of Taylor’s love songs or that you’re actually a closet Swifty?” Elieen quips before dissolving into laughter as she dodges the pillow and bitch face that Sam half-heartedly throws at her.

[blade-liger-4ever]

Jayrae thoughts (trigger warning: mentions of drugs, neglectful parents, demon parents (?), death, gangs, hope this is good enough for warnings)

Okay, @wickedhexedwitch has gotten me onto the Jayrae (Jason Todd/Red Hood x Rachel Roth/Raven) ship pretty hard, despite my poor, limited knowledge of Teen Titans - and, to a slightly lesser extent, DC Comics as a whole.

But now, I can’t help but think about how awesome their dynamic would be. Just imagine with me for a moment.

You have Raven, a young girl who was raised to be her demon father’s ultimate weapon/avatar. She went through a horrible childhood, eventually managing to escape and suppress her emotions to keep dear old dad away. Because of this, she is more reserved and closed off than her teammates, who are more or less physical embodiments of chaos. Naturally, Raven has to keep her empathetic tendencies in control, which means she doesn’t turn out as wild as the others.

Then take Jason. The boy’s had the worst childhood out of any of the Robins (I’m not counting Damian because, on account of Bruce’s life, he was pulled into the Wayne family drama): Jason’s mother was an addict, his father either went to jail or took off, and Jason thereby suffered from emotional, mental and spiritual neglect. And then, after getting killed by Joker, Jason is forcefully brought back to life by Ra’s a’Ghul, with an equally messed up head now that he’d shared the Lazarus Pit with Ra’s.

After coming to terms with Bruce and getting off his need for lone wolf vigilantism, Jason comes back to running some missions with his adopted family. On one of these missions, they wind up teaming up with the Titans for Raven’s medical expertise and to hunt down Deathstroke.

And Raven’s just so...quiet.

Jason’s irked by her lack of emotion, but also amazed at her control. No matter what he says, what he does, or any other antic his siblings or the other Titans get up to, Raven remains impassive and collected. In spite of how aggravating he finds it, Jason finds her quiet control a soothing balm. Soon enough, he begins talking with her about books, starting with the classics that Jason, up until this point, has not spoken about with anyone. Eventually, they spend more time discussing everything from Shakespeare to C.S. Lewis. And then, Jason finds out that Raven’s not a particularly good physical fighter. Offended on her behalf, he insists/drags Raven to the training room to teach her how to defend herself should she be depowered.

And Raven’s just astounded by this man. He’s a smart-mouth, a belligerent fighter, and just all around loose cannon. But now, she’s learned that Jason’s mind is a sharp as his sword, and that underneath his cocky attitude, he cares. No one else on the team has given thought to teaching her to fight without her powers. Despite what he’d have others believe, he has a kind heart. A heart that, dare she say it, is kinder than any Raven’s come across.

And so they’re partnered up on missions. With Raven’s vast magical/supernatural powers and Jason’s exceptional combat and weapon skills, the two make an incredible team. During this time, they find that their partnership is almost seamless, with few misunderstandings between them. Growing comfortable around each other, Raven breaks the ice first by admitting to her heritage and upbringing, something that still upsets her. At first she’s nervous, thinking he might reject her for her early life.

But she’s surprised when Jason gets quiet, slowly taking off his mask as she finishes her tale. After a moment, he tells her that his mother had never shown such care for him. She was always looking for the next drug to make her forget the world, forget him. His father never bothered to be in the picture, forcing Jason to carve out his own life. He tells her the times he went hungry, the times he stole, the first time he killed in self-defense. And Raven realizes that he’s trusting her with his past, just like she did with him. She gives him a smile - a small one, but so genuine that Jason decides it’s the best gesture that’s ever graced his life - and thanks him for it.

They clearly have eyes for each other by now, but Raven’s still not sure about how to express her positive emotions. And Jason, for all his bravado, is unwilling to make a move without knowing for sure that Raven reciprocates. The night before a mission, Raven goes to Starfire for advice on showing “strong affection”, as she puts it, for another. Starfire encourages her to let her emotions flower, but to keep them rooted in reality. Pondering this, Raven thanks her before heading out.

Unknown to either of the women, Dick discusses the mission with Jason before bringing up Raven. Although initially annoyed by the change in topic, Jason listens when Dick points out the signs of Raven’s feelings for him. When his brother is still unsure, Dick suggests not following his instincts this time, but his heart. Jason naturally punches his arm, but after a laugh and a, “Just try, okay?” from his older brother, Red Hood leaves a bit more thoughtful.

They head out, taking down the gang, but Raven takes a hit. Enraged, Jason kills the remaining gang members before carefully picking up Raven and leaving the scene. He’s quiet, not just because he’s still angry but also scared that Raven will think badly of him because of his deadly skills. However, Raven only asks if he’s alright, and after some more discussion, she picks up on a man following them.

Finding a spot to leave her, Jason goes back to deal with their pursuer. This man’s more formidable than the others, and once at a stalemate, Raven abruptly appears to shield Jason from a second man. Teaming up flawlessly, they take down the men, and Jason is stunned to see that Raven has healed. She admits that she accessed her positive emotions to both sense their enemies and to heal herself, finding that her love for Jason greatly overshadowed her negative ones.

Jason and Raven, each smiling like they haven’t in years, take this opportunity to kiss. Their relationship blooms from here on out, resulting in Rachel becoming the White Raven much sooner, and Jason tempering his wilder fighting style to reflect the calmer man that he’s become.

......wow, these two really came to life just now - and I think they’re gonna stick in my mind for awhile yet. Anyone who stuck around, thank you so much, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!

[galacticwildfire]

found.

Twenty Four

Pairing: Kenobi!oc x Din Djarin

Summary: Satine and Obi-wan’s daughter fought in the war against the Empire and lost her faith when she lost Mandalore. Until she found him. A lone Mandalorian searching for a Jedi.

Warnings: TW for torture, severe ptsd, mention of past miscarriage, brief discussion of abortion. No fluff, only angst. Boba time. Missiles. Head injuries, burns, near death

Word Count: 7.4k

A/N: it gets worse before it gets better but I made a new moodboard

~

~

~

Time itself comes to a standstill as we look upon one another but despite the years, despite going to Tatooine to hunt him down... nothing could have prepared me for this.

"You know why I have come," he tells me, his voice the only thing about him I recognise.

"You should be dead," I say, hand wrapped around the hilt of my saber.

"I should be after you left me for dead," he replies and I feel it, the anger, the betrayal that he should have seen coming. "But you never could do it could you?"

"Neither could you," I remind him, and despite every piece of reason in my head screaming otherwise, I feel safe in that security that he could never bring himself to ever truly hurt me, he just stood by as others did. "You don't scare me Boba."

Something in him almost softens, but only for a moment. "It is not fear I want to provoke, not anymore."

His words catch me off guard and leave me almost confused by the change of heart I feel in him, but I ignore it for the sake of self preservation.

"You look older," he says, as if we were meeting under normal circumstances.

"You look like shit," I tell him, trying to bite back the true horror at what I did to him.

"Getting struck down and devoured by a sarlaac does that," he says and gets to business as if we're negotiating in a messy divorce but there is little else that could be used to describe Boba and I. "I want my armour back."

"I want lots of things back, things you took from me," I tell him, Din emerging from cover with his blaster drawn since negotiations have been established. "But life isn't fair, is it?"

I eye the carved wooden weapons he has at his back, weapons I recognise as belonging to the sand people of Tatooine but it is surprisingly not violence he negotiates with.

"I have brought you a peace offering."

"A peace offering?" I repeat and actually laugh, feeling Din's alarm at the sound. "The only peace offering I would accept is Vader's head and unfortunately that is ashes on Endor."

Looking at him now I wonder what he knows if he's lived in isolation on Tatooine because he looks surprised by my revelation. "So you killed the bastard then?"

Now I'm the one in surprise as I scoff "Don't act like you wanted him dead."

"Of course I wanted him dead," he says and takes a step closer, a step that makes Din raise his blaster. "I'm not after you Mandalorian."

"You left me for dead," Din says and I see a look of satisfaction in Boba's eyes that stirs a new type of rage in me.

"Fair is fair," Boba says, ignoring him to speak to me. "I'd call it justice."

"Revenge you mean?"

"One and the same," he says, determined to hit every nerve he knows how. "That's what you said, isn't it princess?"

If this is how he wants to play, I'll play along perfectly.

"Yes." I take a step closer now, looking him dead in the eyes as I tell him. "It was both when I left you for dead."

"I could take revenge," he tells me, but fails to intimidate. "I certainly have enough reason to, but fortunately for you I am a changed man."

I laugh again, the type of unhinged only Boba Fett can make me after he put that madness in my brain and twisted it into what it is now. "Boba Fett? A changed man?"

He isn't amused and looks back towards his ship "I thought you may say that, so here is my peace offering. My armour for yours."

My face falls and I blink at him "What?"

He doesn't repeat himself. "You heard me."

I shake my head "My armour is on-"

"Was on Kalevala," he says and I go cold. "I'm the one who brought you there after Mandalore was destroyed remember? You took my armour from Tatooine, so I returned the favour. Still covered in blood and ashes on board my ship for the taking. You order the Mandalorian to get mine, and Fennec will get yours."

"Fennec?" Din exclaims and I look back at him in confusion until I sense an unfamiliar presence.

"You have a keen ear Mando," a woman says from up on the ridge armed with a rifle, a woman that Din certainly seems to know and I look at him, raising an eyebrow at the panic I feel from him.

"You were dead," he says and my eye goes back to Boba, able to read him in one glance and I should have known he'd never come to face me without an extra gun.

"I believe it is time for introductions," Boba says while I shake my head at him in warning. "Meet Fennec Shand, a sharpshooter I've brought to ensure this transaction goes smoothly."

"Fuck you," I say and order "Din if she moves kill her."

"So it's going to be that way then," Boba says, almost disappointed. "Alright then, your lover pulls that trigger and she'll unload onto that kid she's locked onto."

And there he is, the Boba Fett I know.

"You wouldn't dare," I breathe.

"I think we both know I would," he says but I know the kid is quite safe. "There does not have to be violence."

"Say the word and he's dead," Din says from behind me, both of us knowing the kid is safe behind that shield. 

"This is between her and I Mandalorian," Boba says, he knows his targets, he would know damn well the reputation Din has. "You shoot, Fennec shoots." He looks back at me now. "Your little green friend as quite the bounty on his head."

With those words, all decency is off the table.

"If you think you're going to come here to take my son away-"

"He's a little green to be yours," he says and a chill runs through my bones as he dares to say "But a son for a son seems fair to me."

Din reaches for me as I march forward but holds his position with his blaster trained on Fennec as I slap Boba hard, tears of rage burning in my eyes as I whisper "I hate you."

"I know you do princess," he says, his face may be barely recognisable but his eyes... the same damn eyes. "I'm not here to hurt you."

But I know him better than that.

"I don't believe you," I breathe and the moment my saber is at his neck his finger is on the trigger of his blaster. My match. My perfect adversary. "I will never believe a word you say again."

Still he insists "All I want is my armour."

"Liar," I say, searching his eyes. "You've followed me halfway across the galaxy for one thing only."

He entertains me. "And what's that princess?"

I can't bring myself to say it with Din standing so close but Boba knows. He always knows.

"Revenge," I say, if only to stir something else in his heart that is more bearable for me to feel. "For me."

I'm trembling as he touches my cheek with the barrel of his blaster, but not from fear, anything but fear, and I feel pure horror from Din that I haven't killed him for that simple touch alone.

"I did come for you," he tells me and I don't inch away from him as he leans closer as if nobody else is standing here. "On Tatooine I came for you, but not to harm you."

"Liar," I say again, fighting what I know is the truth. "Why else would you come if not for revenge?"

"I came to help you," he says, the coldness of his blaster on my cheek keeping me still as he asks "Do you really think I'd let you face an Imperial attack alone?"

I feel Din watching with a primal anger I've never felt from him and remind Boba "I wasn't alone and you left him there to die."

"If I didn't kill him he would have killed me," he argues, as if leaving him bleeding out for me to find was only a minor complication. "And I wasn't the one with the shiny beskar."

"No, you aren't," I say, finding a sick pleasure in taking from him the one thing he loves. "Because I have yours and once I put you back in the ground where you belong I'll melt it down and add it to my collection of trophies. Right beside Maul's saber on Kalevala." 

He ignores my threat to tell me "You're the only one who wants violence little one."

"I don't believe you."

"Kill me then," he says, calling my bluff. "We both know you can't do it."

A darkness settles over me, the same darkness that led to me being charged as a war criminal. "You have no idea what I am capable of."

"Then do it. Kill me. Do what you couldn't do on Tatooine." The heat of my saber at his neck does little to scare him as he taunts "Or have you started calling yourself a Jedi again?" My hand grips the hilt of my saber tight knowing one flick of my wrist is all it would take. "I remember when your daddy came to kill mine, but he couldn't do it either."

I blink at him in bewilderment "What?"

"I remember shooting at your father myself," he tells me, words he never has before, and I go cold as his own memories flash before my eyes. Cold rain and shots fired upon my father only to end in the flash of a purple saber and a beskar helmet rolling on coarse ground. "He was no match for a Mandalorian."

"Then how come he lived while yours lost his head," I hiss and he grabs me by my hair, holding me by the scalp with his blaster to my head. "Too soon?"

"Let her go!" Din orders, firing a warning shot only for Fennec to fire one back at Din and I smirk at the look of unbridled rage in Boba's eyes, living for the thrill of hitting him where it hurts. "Let her go or I drop you and Fennec!"

"This is between us," I tell Din, smiling as I taunt "I should have aimed for your neck, let your head roll in the sand just like your donors."

With those words he bares my throat, my hair in his fist as he brings his blaster from my head down to my stomach, knowing just where to hit me, but nothing can ever hurt me more than he already has. "You've become a cruel woman."

"Do you think I'm still that nineteen year old girl who cried and begged for you Boba?" I ask him and laugh again at the pain shooting through him, wanting him to suffer as I have. "You killed her that day on Cloud City. There's nothing left you can do to hurt me now."

"I can kill the kid," he threatens. "Like you killed our son."

"Our son?" I repeat numbly and feel Din's own horror as I tell him. "You mean the bloody tissue that was left on the floor of that cell after Vader tortured it out of me?" Boba's eyes go utterly cold now, finally realising it was not my doing. "It's for the better because I was never going to have any child of yours after what you did to me."

"Kyra," he begins, the emotion in his voice making me wince but I'm past apologies.

"It's too late for remorse Boba," I tell him, having no pity left for him and dig the knife deeper. "Everything you blamed me for is your own doing. Every betrayal you believed, none of it was ever real. It was all Vader screwing with your head like he did mine."

Finally after all these years I find myself absolved of my own guilt and see the horror in his eyes as he realises I never betrayed him and that the death of our love is his blood to bear.

His voice is uneven now "If I knew-"

"You would have what? Struck Vader down?" I ask as I push him off me and he doesn't try to push me back. "You were too weak."

"Says the one who's too weak to strike me down now," he says, but the fight is gone from his voice and filled with a quiet ache before he resorts to the one thing he can still hate me for. "Just like your father was."

I raise an eyebrow "You think I'm weak because I'm a Jedi?"

"I know you are."

I give a nod and turn my back on him, walking back towards Din as I raise my hand to choke the sniper up on the ridge and watch her reach for her throat as Boba finally panics. 

"Stop that!"

"No," I answer before channelling the strength of the force here and throwing her off the ledge into a nearby rockface. Din and Boba both jump back as she groans on the ground and I use the force to pull her rifle to me, handing it to Din as I return to his side. 

"Kyra," Din says quietly as he takes the rifle. "I owe Fennec, she is not our enemy." 

"Well he is," I reply and turn back to Boba. "I don't care what you've become, I don't care if you're sorry, not when I have to live with the consequences of what you did."

Boba looks at Fennec, finally realising just what his betrayal led me to become. "I thought you were above that."

"I was, but not after what Vader did to me," I say and I see the look of disbelief in his eye before his hand goes to his throat and that cold rage burns as I hold it tight. "Do you think I'm not capable of the things he was?"

"Then do it," he says, my fist closing around his throat. "If it's revenge you want take it, I won't stop you."

"Only one of us is leaving this planet alive," I tell him, even if every moral my father instilled in me screams against killing a man who is not fighting.

"Then why haven't you killed me yet?" he asks but just as I step forward with my saber in hand I feel it and realise the true enemy that's followed me isn't Boba Fett.

It's the Empire.

Slowly I turn my head back towards Boba, the memory of betrayal haunting me now and my saber hand's shaking as he puts his hands up "I didn't-"

Without warning I throw him to the ground and my saber is at his neck as I curse "You fucking traitor."

He knows there is nothing he could say for me to believe him and instead tells me "It's time to put your armour back on princess, we're in for a fight."

I look up at Din who stands there watching the Imperial ships entering the atmosphere "Kyra the kid-"

"The kid is safe," I promise Din and withdraw my saber and abandon Boba on the ground to go to him. "If it's Gideon we have the advantage you hear me?" 

"How?" he asks me. "It's the two of us against the Empire."

I look back at Boba on the ground and Fennec getting to her feet, if they didn't bring them here then they'll have no hesitation killing them. "No, it's not." I take his helmet in my hands as I tell him "We fight, the child is as safe as he can be up on that stone. Get your weapons, we aren't running."

"This is the way," he says and a shadow of a smile plays at my lips.

"This is the way."

I let him go with a press of my lips to his beskar cheek knowing damn well Boba's watching and march to his ship to get my armour. I navigate the familiar interior quickly to get to the storage compartment and much to my equal surprise and satisfaction find my biometric fingerprint still logged and draw a sharp breath as the compartment opens.

My armour as promised sits there, painted blood red and still coated in the ashes of Mandalore. 

For just a moment I still feel the rubble crushing me, I can still see the bodies of my people turned to dust after the bombing. I can still feel the ash in my lungs as my hand reached out through the rubble, red with radiation burns. I wanted to die and yet I couldn't help but fight for my life as the darkness closed in on me.

I can still feel Boba taking my hand and pulling me out. 

The sound of gunshots pulls me back and I take the painted beskar forged for my body, a lightweight unconventional design perfect for a Jedi. It's all muscle memory as I arm myself with it, the slimline armoured top that wraps around my collarbones leaving my arms bare, the red arm bands in substitute of pauldrons for the sake of mobility, my left bearing the symbol of the Jedi and the right my family's crest. The gauntlets attached to my fingerless red sleeves more lightweight than the typical Mandalorian's, the same with the rest of my armour. Boba brought all of it, not just the beskar but the rest of it I couldn't bear to touch after I'd stripped it from my body and so I make quick work of it, discarding my of Jedi styled clothes in favour of my complete armour since I doubt I'll get another chance to retake it.

Finally I hold the helmet in my hand and for the first time since the purge put it on and ready myself, transferring my saber to my armours utility belt that's still armed with my old blaster and make sure to put the kids ball in one of the pockets.

It feels right as I step out of the ship looking through a visor and raise my blaster to take out the nearby stormtroopers and feel Din's head snaps towards me at the sound of the shots and I can feel it, awe, and then I feel the fear of the stormtroopers as I ignite my saber.

They all come to a halt with their guns raised at me, shaking in their armour as I tilt my head to the side and the moment I raise my hand they're running back to their ship, the landing platform still lowered as they try to retreat and with a single hand, feeling the strength of the force more than I have in years, I bring the ship to a halt as they try to lift off. It's as I tap into the true richness of the force here on Tython I realise indeed the stories are true and I throw the ship into a nearby cliff face with a strength I've never wielded before.

The wreckage hits the ground with injured troopers straining for their weapons and I look back to see Boba and Din both standing there in a state of awe.

"Kill them!" I order and they quickly jump into action, gunning down the troopers on board the wreckage and I move past the bodies to get to the remains of the cockpit, still intact enough for me to make contact with their commander and know in my gut who it is. 

"This is Kyra Kryze," I say, ready to take him out. "You're troopers are dead Gideon."

"That may be, but not even you and your bounty hunters can save the child from me," he says and I hear Din yelling for me.

"Kyra!"

I emerge to see three more ships lowering onto the planet and just as I raise my hand I hear rockets, but not from the ship. I look back to see Boba standing there in his own armour now and watch as his rocket hits one of the ships which crashes down into the other, both burning wreckage now in the sky.

I feel Din's hand on my arm, tasting the bitterness in my mouth as I look at Boba and know he didn't bring the Empire here. 

"See princess, I did tell you," Boba says and I could kill him for the I told you so alone. 

"And like I told you, I'm not weak," I spit at him and then realise that was his intention all along, to rile me up. 

"You never were," he says and frustrated I look away from him back to Din who stands behind me with a gentle hand holding me in place, maker knows the only thing giving me peace right now.

"What's the plan general?" Din asks me, Boba and Fennec listening as I look at the final ship landing, but my gut tells me there are far more where it came from and we need to take them out.

"Kill them, no matter how many waves come we eliminate them," I decide, knowing the child is safe up on that rock. "If we don't Gideon will just send them after us again."

"Gideon?" Boba repeats, having missed that part when he was attacking Din. "Moff Gideon? I thought he was dead."

"So did we but you'd know that if you were actually helping me on Tatooine instead of stabbing someone," I retort and feel Din squeeze my arm to bring my back, knowing I need to be focused right now, and ask him "On Navarro what type of strength did he have?"

"Enough that he almost killed all of us," he answers and tells me "We aren't making it out unscathed."

"Retreatings no good if he can take us out with his ship, we're better to hold defensive positions until an opportunity presents itself," I say as Fennec reloads her rifle, remembering the Hoth situation. "We don't know what type of resources he's got and I'm not risking putting the kid in his sights."

"Call for backup?" Din asks knowing the connections I've got but none that can get here in time.

"We are the backup," Boba says and reminds me "We've faced worse than a few stormtroopers princess."

"This isn't right," I say, my gut screaming it at me. "It's too easy, if Gideon knows you're here he'd be sending more firepower than this."

It would be why Gideon waited so long to attack, Boba Fett would be one of the few people in this galaxy he would fear and rightfully so, which makes no sense he's sending mere ships of troopers against two of the most capable killers in the galaxy.

"Then let's take them out," Boba says as the ship lands and the four of us stand there ready to fight as the landing platform lowers and I tilt my head at the black of their armour.

Death troopers.

And there it is.

"Take cover," I order before they open fire and each and every movement of my saber is muscle memory led by the force, my father having been relentless in this particular training after the Clones wiped out most of the Jedi in order 66. He wasn't going to let me fall to a group of troopers with blasters.

Their armour is resistant enough the blasts reflected back don't kill them and hear their commander order "Kill the Jedi!"

And so I use the force to leap over head just as they roll grenades my way and cut through three troopers from behind as Din, Boba and Fennec fire on them from defensive positions but it's then as I look up to the stone my blood runs cold realising this is just a distraction.

Troopers unlike any I've ever seen descend towards the stone and just as I run forward I'm thrown to the ground by a missile that blows the Razor Crest to ashes. 

My ears ring as I take in the burning wreckage and feel Din pulling me to my feet, covering me from the Death Troopers fire as he pulls me back behind cover, checking me over to make sure I'm alright before quaking "The kid-"

"I've got him, cover me," I tell him and use my jetpack for the first time in years as I take off dodging the heavy fire from the Death Troopers to get to the stone only to begin losing altitude halfway as the broken down fuel runs out and I hit the ground running, reaching the stone at the same moment they do and I'm met with an onslaught from blaster cannons that I fight through only for the force shield to come down.

"No!" I yell out as I'm thrown into one of the pillars with a force I've never felt before by one of the troopers and get to my feet only to be faced with six of them, big hulking forces of metal standing between me and the child who looks at me with fear in his eyes.

They fire upon me, no doubt with programmed orders from Gideon to eliminate me personally. Reflecting the heavy fire I cut through the chest of the one who threw me and cut down the next through the middle only to be grabbed by the throat with a crushing pressure by another and raised up to see the child being taken and kick my feet against the troopers face, severing the hand holding my throat before cutting through its neck along with anothers before driving my saber through the chest of the fifth.

I rebound off the ground as the final trooper lifts off with the child and I swear I can hear Din calling my name, but just as I go to jump from the stone to take down the final trooper I see it far too late, the burning missile locked right onto me, and in the second before it impacts I raise my saber in a pure final instinct and there's a flash of blue.

Then nothing.

~

Din

The moment the missile enters the atmosphere I've abandoned my defensive position to run to her as if I have a chance in hell of making it there, there's flashes of yellow as she cuts through the troopers and I'm screaming her name into an empty void and she looks up the moment before it impacts. There's a flash of blue as the forceshield ignites only for the missile to blow the stone temple to nothing not even a second later.

The explosion causes me to fall back and I'm on my knees as I look up at the smouldering ruins, the world itself coming to a standstill as I grasp my blaster between my fingers, in one single moment my entire world gone.

So many moments I'd accepted my own death and I was never afraid, but that was until her and the child came along and suddenly I had everything to lose.

And now I've lost just that, my child, my riduur, my everything.

That is until I feel Boba Fett pulling me to my feet telling me "She's hard to kill, get up there and I'll follow the bastards."

"Come on," Fennec says pulling me along as if there would even be anything left of her after what that same missile did to the Razor Crest. "He'll follow the trooper, she's a Jedi isn't she?" Numbly I nod as she forces me to walk. "Then there's a chance."

"The kid-"

"He's following the kid," she repeats as we make our way up the mountain. "You can't save him but there's still a chance for her."

I'm sick to my stomach at the thought of what I'll find, her body blown to pieces or nothing at all, but as my weak knees take me up the hill they all but give out at the sight of her red figure face down in the ruins and I run forward, dropping to my knees as I take her in my arms.

"Kyra?" I quake as I hold her limp body, armour blackened from the impact and skin scorched but it's as I pull her helmet off and find blood running from her ears and nose I can't breathe. "Cyar'ika?"

Despite the heat radiating from the burns her body's cold, my thermal imaging unable to get a clear reading with the injuries and I'm cradling her head in my hand as I check her vital signs,  finding a pulse, drawing a shaking breath as I feel it beneath my fingers. She should be ashes, but I've seen the child perform even greater miracles than this.

"Boba's on their tail," Fennec tells me. "He's locked onto the trooper."

"No!" I panic, stammering. "I don't want the child hurt!"

They're both alive, but they won't be for long.

"Abort pursuit, disengage!" Fennec orders. "Do not harm the child."

"Copy, I'll do a loose follow, see where they're headed." There's a pause before he asks "Is she alive?"

"Mando," Fennec says, unable to quite look at us as she asks "Is she alive?" I give a single weak nod and she confirms "She's alive but barely. Burns covering her body from the blast and severe head trauma, unconscious."

I'd never been truly afraid until right now as I hold her limp body in my arms, appearing dead in every way except for the slight pulse beneath my fingers and the slow rise and fall of her chest beneath the beskar but it's not strong enough.

The child is gone, I can't lose her with him.

"I can't do this alone," I tell her in Mando'a. I'd promised that I'd never let the Empire hurt her again and I broke that promise. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I failed you. I failed both of you."

Her red hair is between my fingers, warmth seeping from her skull as I clutch her body to mine, trying to convince myself she's still alive, that she still has a chance.

"They're back," I hear Fett say over the com as I listen for her breath but can barely find it.

"Who?" Fennec asks as she comes over, kneeling down to take a look at her.

"The Empire," he answers, telling her what I already know. "They're back."

"That can't be, the Empire is under the jurisdiction of the New Republic."

"This isn't a spice dream, I can see the Imperial cruiser with my own eyes."

The issue of a few rogue warlords is entirely different to an armed and operational Imperial Cruiser. For a moment I hope that revelation would be enough to wake her up, but she's still out cold in my arms. 

"Fennec she needs help," I say quickly, unable to keep my voice from breaking.

"Boba doesn't have any plans on letting her die," Fennec says and I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse as she speaks into the com. "Get back down here, she needs medical treatment."

"I'm coming down."

"Come on," Fennec says and I lift her up, taking care to keep her head still and Fennec takes her helmet as we descend back down the mountain with only one way off this planet.

Despite the desperation I've heard enough to not trust him, knowing he turned her over to the Empire once before and I'll die before letting it happen again and when we approach his ship and he takes a step towards her I draw my blaster on him from beneath her legs "Touch her and you're dead."

"She isn't dead yet but she will be and if you kill me and try to steal my ship you won't get very far without my biometrics," he says, having anticipated this. "Do you want her to die?"

"She'd rather die before being given to the Empire," I say, knowing she'd never forgive me if I let Gideon get his hands on her. "And I'll die before letting them harm her."

"I didn't dig her out of the damn rubble on Mandalore to watch her die now," he mutters and my blaster hand shakes as he marches forward and puts a hand on her head, I only allow it when I see how his shakes as much as mine. "She needs a bacta tank."

"It's the outer rims," Fennec says. "Where-"

"I know a place," Fett says and speaks to me. "Something tells me neither of us are getting past the outer rims without being arrested by the New Republic. I can take her somewhere she'll be safe."

"Where?"

"Cloud city," he says, the name only vague to me. "Run by one of her rebel friends, Calrissian."

I look down at her knowing we don't have any time for questions but I still can't trust Boba Fett "You try anything-"

"Oh trust me she'll beat you to killing me when she wakes up when she realises where I've taken her," he assures me. "But neither of us are letting her die."

"Mando, if you want her to live you have to trust us," Fennec says and with no choice I head on board the ship, hardly even registering as Boba Fett enters with the beskar spear, all that's left of the Razor Crest.

The landing dock closes and they head into the cockpit without another word, leaving me there in the hold alone with her and it's then the chill truly settles into my bones. 

Only an hour ago we were in the cockpit of the Razorcrest, watching her holding Grogu as she told us the words we'd never heard before her, that she loves us. Words I'd never heard until she came into my life and made me realise I was something that could be loved. The light of my life, the only thing that truly mattered, her and the child, I had my entire future in the palm of my hand and now it's all gone.

I feel the tears in my eyes as I cradle her head and feel the dry blood in her hair, remembering in horror that she has a family outside of the child and I, that I'll have to tell them how she died while I stood helpless. 

"Come on cyar'ika," I plead with her, without her and the child there is nothing left to live for. I don't know how I ever lived without their love, a love that made me feel human for the first time since I was a child, a love I can never live without again. "Wake up, please."

But her body only grows colder, her skin blackened from the blast of the missile, wounds that a bacta tank can heal but I remember too well the head trauma that would have killed me if not for IG-11. My hand rests over her pulse, feeling it only growing weaker, her breathing slowing.

"Stay with me," I whisper, shaking as I hold her body and realise her chest is hardly rising. "Kyra?" The colour is gone from her cheeks, her skin turning a shade of grey and I'm yelling out "How long do we have left!"

Boba Fett comes down, helmetless now and looks upon her with an unreadable face "Less than an hour."

"We don't have that long," I insist. "Is there bacta-"

"The Hutts raided it for medicine and credits while I was in the Sarlacc," he answers and gives what could almost be called an attempt at assurance. "I've seen her in worse shape than this, she's tough, too stubborn to die like this that's for certain."

"Well she is dying!" I snap, slowly losing it with every missed beat of her pulse. "Isn't there anywhere closer?"

"If the Empires back then Cloud City is the only place I know for certain won't be doing business with them," he says and I look down at her. "Calrissian is a good enough man he wouldn't turn her away."

"Can you get a transmission to Leia?" I ask him knowing that she'd want her family to be there if she doesn't make it and he seems surprised by my request.

He scoffs "She's told you about that lot?"

"They're her family," I say and he just shakes his head. "They deserve to be there if she doesn't make it." It's then I remember where I'd heard of Cloud City from, Solo's transmission after we were attacked on Tatooine. "Can you contact Solo on the Millenium Falcon, he should be at Cloud City."

He looks at me more carefully now "You've met Solo and all the rest?"

"I know her family and she'd want them there," I say, unable to understand the questions and having no patience for them. "Can you contact them or not?"

He's silent for a moment in contemplation before saying "It's best I don't or they'll try to shoot me down."

I stare at him now incredulously at how he can be thinking about himself right now "Not if they know she's on board."

"Let's just say Solo and I have some history and they won't believe she let me live long enough to be in this situation," he says and despite my desperation I can't blame them if they know what I do. "We'll be there soon, I don't know what she's told you-"

"She'd told me enough," I say sharply, not caring for conversation right now.

He nods to himself before saying "We both love her Mandalorian, she isn't dying on my watch." He steps forward and I pull her closer to me, not wanting a man who hurt her and is comfortable enough laying hands on her how I just saw to touch her. "She's survived worse than this, if you've spent even a night with her you'd know that." 

The mention of her nightmares has me shaking at the thoughts of just what she's endured and the revelation I learned on that damned planet, that she was pregnant with this man's child and lost it in torture due to his betrayal.

"If you loved her you wouldn't have betrayed her," I say knowing the man he is, that we aren't so dissimilar. Knowing the lives men like him and I lead and just what she is in comparison to all that bloodshed. "If you loved her you would have died before letting the Empire lay one hand on her."

"Vader promised me if I got her to become his apprentice he would spare her," he reveals to me. "The moment she landed on that planet she'd sealed her fate, I'd tried to keep her away but the moment her ship was reported I went there to protect her and struck the deal. Her precious family were about to die and I wasn't going to let her suffer the same fate."

"And so you turned her over for torture with a blaster at her back," I say remembering the words she told me and feel my own blaster beside me on the floor within reach, checking her pulse and finding it even weaker.

"I did," he says and eyes me as he says "It's clear you haven't known her very long so let me enlighten you. I'd been by her side since she was nineteen, I watched her take back Mandalore from the Empire and I watched her lose it because she was too damn stubborn to realise her precious rebellion would spit her right back out the moment they were finished with her." I'm silent now, remembering Chandrila. "And from what I've heard that's exactly what they did, charged her as a war criminal and left her to Moff Gideon on Tatooine."

My head snaps back towards him at the mention of that night "You left me for dead after beating Cobb Vanth within an inch of his life trying to find us."

"You would have done the same if you'd seen me first," he dismisses and goes on. "I've been dealing with the aftermath of her decisions for almost a decade now. She's as tough as they come but she's got a weak heart. She's pretty enough to make any man forget themselves but there's only so many times you can stop her from ruining herself in the name of being a hero. Hell I pulled her out of the ruins of Mandalore after she tried killing herself when she had to live with the consequences of her decisions. She's her own worst enemy and I'm warning you now Mandalorian no man escapes from her unscathed."

The length of their history makes me still and I begin to realise there's a reason she didn't kill him on sight and with her dying in her arms the last thing I want is to doubt where her heart lies. 

"I know her past," I say stiffly, but it's never scared me until now. 

"Do you?" he questions. "Are you aware you've been shacking up with a suicidal sadist who's spent her enter life pretending to be something she's not? Don't let her pretty face fool you, she's a cruel woman who let me spend five years believing she'd rid herself of our child out of pure spite before leaving me for dead."

His words do nothing but make me want to reach for my blaster "Do you love her or hate her, make up your mind." 

"Love and hate, it's all the same to her as you'll come to learn," he says and I look down at her face, unable to see anything but the woman I love. "She'll want to kill me when she eventually wakes up but she won't do it. She can't. The last night together before she left me for dead she spent beating me until she turned to words to try to provoke me into hurting her to fulfil whatever sick satisfaction it gave her before pushing me into bed. She's a twisted woman, always has been. Whatever she's told you I did to her it was nothing she didn't allow, hell you saw it. She has a way of bringing out the worst in a man, forcing it to the surface."

"Why are you telling me this?" I stammer, panicking the weaker her breathing grows while he stands there like she's not dying.

"So you can run before it's too late."

I scoff now, realising what his play is "So you can have her?"

"I've loved her through all of these years, and no matter what we always found our way back to one another," he tells me and stops before heading back to the cockpit. "You seem like a good man, you love her, but she isn't the woman you think she is."

With her dying in my arms his words change nothing. "We'll see."

He's almost amused "You will see."

He leaves us and I look down at her, the woman I love, a woman who in so many ways is still as much of a mystery to me as she was when I first laid eyes on her. Whoever she was, I saw glimpses of her today that left me shocked, glimpses I'd never seen before that leave me wondering how much of the truth this man is telling me.

But it doesn't matter, not now, not when I could lose her. I trust her with my life, with the child's life, and that is more important than anything that he could ever tell me, not when I have my own past I try to forget. Not when our child is gone and I need her with me to take him back.

True desperation takes hold of me as her lips turn a shade of blue and I hold her face, afraid to move her without knowing the extent of her head injury, clinging to the faint beat of her pulse that is the only thing keeping the last shred of my sanity from breaking.

"Wake up," I plead with her, if there is one thing Fett is right about it's that she's too stubborn to die like this at the Empire's hands. "We need to protect Grogu, he needs us." Still she lays unconscious and my voice breaks "I need you."

When I was dying I had her and the child by my side, I would have died in peace having felt her lips on mine knowing there was someone to mourn me, to raise the child. I may be here, but she would not die in peace knowing the child is in danger, knowing he was taken by the Empire as she was when she was just a child. 

As I died the only regret I had was that I had not had more time with her, I would have died a happy man if she opened her eyes to look upon my face when she kissed me and so with shaking hands I lift my helmet now and put it aside to look upon her with my own eyes. If she were to wake now I would have no regrets if only to feel her warm and alive in my arms.

"I love you," I tell her, knowing I might never get to say them again. "I can't- I can't go back to how it was before you and the kid. I can't." I'm choking back a sob as I fight tears, something I didn't realise I was still capable of. "Please, stay with me. Stay with me cyar'ika."

I kiss her cold head, feeling my tears wet her skin as I once felt hers wet mine. I thought I was gone, but she saved me.

I might not be able to wield the force to bring her back from the brink of death, I may be just a man begging the woman he loves to stay with him but that is enough. It has to be.

I'm not letting her die.

[gudhoomanbean]

Stowaway Chapter 2

AN: Hi everybody! Let's goooo next chapter. I'm still busy setting things up, setting the scene, but getting Din and you to interact was definitely fun. I hope I'm able to stay true to who Din is as a character while also cracking that tough shell. Lots of slow burn and tension to come, because thats the BEST part :P. Let me know what you guys think! And should I make longer chapters? It would take longer to write and post, but if you'd prefer that lemme know :)

Warnings: Description of weapons, some tension, some swearing.

Word count: 2074

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The silence is suffocating. You just sit there for hours upon hours, with nothing to look at but a shiny helmet, green ears and the lines of stars streaking by. You don't know how he's able to sit so perfectly still for so long. And the awkwardness you feel is slowly eating away at your self control to stay silent. Eventually you can't stand it anymore.

"Am I a prisoner?" You ask, pretty sure you are, but not able to think of another question to break the silence.

That continues.

You're pretty sure he heard you. Is he ignoring you?

"Mr Mandalorian sir, I need to pee." You try again. This time you see his shoulders slump slightly, but you still don't get a response.

"I'll uh, just go downstairs then." You say, getting up. You slowly sidestep the chair while watching the Mandalorian for hints of movement. He stays stock still. You keep retreating backwards, and startle a bit when you hear the hiss of doors opening behind you. You retreat further into the next cabin and wait until the doors hiss closed in front of you and you lose sight of the Mandalorian.

For the first time in hours you're able to take a deep breath. You climb down the ladder as best you can with bound hands, and then turn to look at what you now have to assume is the urinal. Obviously this ship was not made to cater to anybody that doesn't stand up and pee. You stare at it very hard, wondering how on earth you're going to manage to relieve yourself.

"This is ridiculous." You mutter. You look around, wondering if there is possibly another solution. Your eyes land on a small round bucket type thing, and you shrug to yourself. You're no stranger to having to do things the hard way, or the gross way. Growing up on a small farming planet taught you to get your hands dirty, and your time spent as a combat medic for the Resistance made your stomach strong.

So you grab the bucket, pull your pants down, and crouch. And oh sweet stars it feels good. You hadn't realised just how much you needed to go until now. When you're finished you pick up the bucket and empty it into the useless urinal. Flushing it makes a loud sound that you're sure can be heard all the way up in the cockpit.

But if he's going to ignore you, then you're going to take advantage of it and try to amuse yourself down here. Now that one basic need has been fulfilled, you find yourself noticing another. You're so kriffing hungry. You take in the hull before you.

You didn't notice how cluttered it actually is on your way in, you just noticed wide open space in the middle. But the walls are full of stuff. Parts for the ship, nets, containers filled with who knows what. And to your left is a large locker. You move forward to open it up, your curiosity getting the better of you.

As you open the doors you gasp slightly. Every weapon known to the galaxy has got to be in here. You can't even tell what most of them are for. What on earth does someone need such a variety of weapons for, you wonder to yourself.

Turning slightly you notice a little storage locker. You press the button and it slides open, revealing a cot and a net hanging above it, that looks like a make-shift little bed for the kid. This must be where they sleep. You think about sleep, but shake youself. As tired as you are, your hunt for food is not yet over.

You start to dig through the containers, opening the smaller ones first. You're surprised at just how much of it is scraps of metal and parts for the ship. You're pretty sure you could build half a ship with all this stuff. By the time you're opening your fifth box to only find tools, you're starting to lose hope you're going to find anything edible. You groan and rest your head against the container.

"What are you doing?" A gruff voice asks close by. You jump up almost hit your forehead on his helmet. He was bending over you when he spoke, and you hadn't realised he was so close. You stumble back a bit, heart pounding.

"Are you one of those species that eats metal? The only thing in any of these containers is scraps and parts and tools." You ask him, flustered.

"Do you always answer a question with another question?" He asks lowly, taking a step towards you. You huff and hold your ground, not going to allow him to intimidate you further. You stare at him, almost challenging him.

"Only when I have important questions to ask." You say. He takes another step towards you, and you suddenly realise just how tall he is. He's close enough that if you leaned forward a little, your forehead would rest on his chest. This forces you to look up at him, and you have to actively control your rapid breathing. His proximity is slowly eating away at your resolve to not be intimidated.

"Then ask an important question." He says quietly. You suck in a breath at the implication. Like you haven't asked an important question yet. Anger bubbles up inside you, but you remain calm, knowing he's trying to rile you up. He tilts his face lower, and you can feel him looking at you through the helmet. You stare at the dark T shaped visor where you think his eyes are, willing yourself not to blink.

"Food. Where can I find food." You ask, and it comes out as a mumble. You internally kick yourself for sounding afraid, knowing you just lost whatever this interaction was. Not looking away from you, he points and your eyes follow to a container against the opposite wall. The little one right at the very top. You look back at him, and he still hasn't moved an inch. You stand there for a few more minutes until You realise grumpily you won't win this standoff especially not with your stomach beginning to eat your liver. So you take a step back and walk over to the container.

You open it and see a couple packets of rations, and while it isn't restaurant quality, you're just so glad there is actually something edible on this ship. You pick one up and open it, trying to work with your hands still cuffed and shaking from hunger. You pop a cracker into your mouth and almost forget to chew, practically inhaling the nutrition. You turn around and find the Mandalorian still staring at you.

You realise you didn't ask if you could eat the food. You blush a little in embarassment, scolding yourself for your rudeness. He didn't throw you in Carbonite, so as much as you want to fight back against his intimidating presence, you have to remember to at least be somewhat grateful to him. There was nothing that stopped him from turning the ship around and dropping you back at the transport, but he didn't.

"Am I going to stay cuffed the whole time?" You ask, and the little part of you inside that just scolded you for being rude throws a massive fit and almost walks out on you. You were supposed to say thank you. The Mandalorian doesn't say anything and only walks towards you. He stops again in front of you and you lift your hands up a little. He bends closer to you, and you feel your heart beating against your chest like a war drum.

He doesn't stop moving closer, and you're so shocked you don't remember how to move or breathe. You just stand there and stare at him with big eyes as he leans in, so that there is barely 10cm between the two of you. He continues to look down at you and your heart sits in your throat. He lifts his arm and you watch out of the corner of your eye as he reaches around you and grabs two packets of rations. He then pulls away from you, turns around and walks away, climbing the ladder and disappearing.

You stand there for a while, dumb struck. You're not sure what happened to your body in that moment, but when he was so close to you your mind just started to short circuit. You stare at the ladder where he disappeared and sink to the ground, absent-mindedly munching on your rations while pondering the great mystery of the armoured man.

What were his intentions? Why did he let you stay on the ship? Who was he? Your head was spinning with all these unknowns, and you wondered to yourself exactly who's ship you got on. You finish your rations and feel your eyes start to get heavy. At least now you know you aren't in immediate danger, so maybe some shut eye isn't so bad.

You remember seeing scraps of cloth and blankets in one of the containers, and you get up to go and pull some out. You grab a reasonable bundle and make yourself a little nest on the floor, knowing that you easily get cold. You wrap yourself up and drift off the minute you get settled.

~~~

Din climbed down the stairs with Grogu in his arms. The kid was tired and so was he, but with a stranger on the ship he was not going to be able to sleep. He reached the bottom of the stairs and saw a bundle of blankets on the floor. He walked over and saw your forehead peaking out through a gap in some of them. He contemplated you, this strange person that snuck onto his ship without him knowing.

He had to admit, you were good at being sneaky. If he hadn't gone into that chamber and seen your heat signature through the wall, he would never have known you were there. That also reminded him that he needed to be extra cautious. He couldn't let it happen again.

Grogu suddenly wiggled out of his arms and slid to the floor, waddling over to where you were lying. He pointed at you and looked up at his dad, his eyes full of questions. Din didn't know what to tell him. He knew nothing about you except that you were a stowaway, you worked for the New Republic and you were a doctor.

Were you really only on this ship because the transport was dead in space? Din had seen the state of the ship and was inclined to believe you, but years of experience warned him to be cautious around you, because anyone could lie. You were absolutely going to stay cuffed until they reached Nevarro. Grogu started to climb into the blankets and Din reached forward to stop him.

"Hey, no. That's not your bed." He muttered, trying not to wake you. He picked up Grogu who made an upset sound and reached out to try and get back to the blankets. Din couldn't blame him, you made a little bed that looked comfy as hell, but he didn't trust you, and couldn't let Grogu sleep there. He carried Grogu to the compartment with the cot and opened it up. He placed Grogu in his little hanging bed and patted him, waiting for the kid to fall asleep.

Eventually Grogu's breathing came in long deep breaths, and looking behind him, Din saw that you were also still passed out. He decided to stay here, and lie down on the cot so he could watch Grogu, and leave the door open so he could watch you too. Climbing in he lay down with a soft grunt, the aches from sitting in a chair for hours starting to feel slightly better.

And so Din stayed like that, watching his son, and watching you. Wondering what the next few days would hold, and thinking about how much he secretly had enjoyed making you so flustered when he had gotten too close. He smiled only slightly to himself, knowing that eventually you would learn that if you challenged him, you would lose.

The rhythmic breathing from his son and from you started to lull him slightly, and before he even realised he had sunk into the dreamscape.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Cold

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

rating: M (sadness, loneliness, grogu being a brat, din being the sweetest boy, nudity but no smut)

word count: 1.5k

authors note: this is completely self-indulgent. no one does cuddles like din does cuddles.

din masterlist

Space was cold. Colder than you could’ve ever imagined given your home planet’s near-constant state of sunshine and heat. You don’t think you would’ve ever considered a life in space had it not been for the man you fell in love with. The man that warmed your soul so effortlessly.

It had been months since you’d moved into the Razor Crest to join Din in his travels, and you still hadn’t quite gotten used to the icy chill of the durasteel and beskar all around you. Though Din was like a personal heater, his line of work had become increasingly busy, forcing him out on hunting trips most of the time and leaving you all alone in the ship with the child.

This week the three of you had landed on an ice planet, you and Grogu well hidden inside of a cave that offered a little insulation from the constant blizzard outside. Din had been gone for five days now, or what you assumed was five days—time always confused you when it came to space travel. You were cold, lonely, and most of all, desperate for some quality time with your gunslinging man in beskar.

“Din?” You used the comms to talk to him, something you rarely ever did except for when he’d been gone on long hunts like this. A crackling noise sounded as he answered you.

“My sweet cyar’ika. I’ve missed your voice.” You smiled at the sound of him so tender for only you, glad that he was missing you as much as you were missing him. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just miss you.” You confessed, biting your lip as you stared blankly ahead through the windshield of the ship, the stone wall of the cave as boring as it had been since you first arrived.

“I miss you too. I’ll be home soon, I promise. Ran into a few snags…but I’ve got a good lead on him now.” You sighed to yourself, disappointed that he likely wouldn’t be home tonight like you so desperately hoped he would. “I’ve got to go, mesh’la. I love you. Kiss the kid for me.”

“Love you too,” you desperately tried to hide the sadness in your voice, hating the idea of coming across as needy, but it was no use. You were sad.

“Mesh’la,” he sighed empathetically, so attuned to your feelings even when he wasn’t physically around.

“Be safe.” You hung up the comms and wiped your cheek, leaving the cockpit and walking down to the cargo hold. The child had been hard at work on his force training, learning how to use his powers while not draining himself of his entire energy. You smiled at the little green ball bouncing around the room, the cabin fever obviously getting to him too. “C’mon, Grogu. It’s time for us to get ready for bed.”

He hated bathtime, hated going to bed, hated Din not being around. Some nights he could sense your loneliness and exhaustion and chose to work with you, but tonight was not one of those nights. He threw a fit as you picked him up and carried him into the fresher, crying as you washed him and put a clean outfit on. You were too exhausted to scold him, simply carrying out your duties with a tear rolling down your cheeks.

Putting him to bed was even harder than bathtime. Every time you set him down in his sling, he’d immediately start climbing back out.

“Grogu, you need to lay down. It’s time for bed.” You instructed with a broken tone, the kid crying and squawking as though you were trying to hurt him. “Grogu, please.”

When he refused to obey, you sighed and gave up, letting him climb out and leave the bunk, going back to the metal ball Din had been using to practice the force with him. You ordered him to stay out of trouble while you went in for your own shower, leaving the door open in case he needed you.

You were in the shower for far too long, long enough to earn a lecture from the Mandalorian if he’d been here to witness it. No matter how hot the water got, you still had an ice cold chill deep inside, one that only Din himself could cure. Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped one towel around your hair and then one around your body, your footsteps wet against the cold metal floor.

“Look at you, Mando.” You jumped at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, looking down the hold and locking eyes with Din’s bounty, his wrists binded and pressed against the magnetic wall of the ship. The reflective surface of Din’s armor appeared, his helmet whipping in your direction. “Didn’t take you as the type to keep a hooker.”

“Don’t you ever—“ He cut himself off, the sight of you standing over there all alone, looking at him with the most sad eyes he’d ever seen enough to shut him up. Without another word, he shoved the bounty into the carbonite freezer and disregarded him completely. “Mesh’la, I hope you realize his word means nothing. You’re not a—“

“I know, Din.” You still looked sad, his head tilting as he walked over to you until he was close enough to hold your face.

“What’s wrong?” His voice, though still modulated, offered you some relief, his gloved hands doing the same against the skin of your cheeks. You felt another tear slip down your cheek, Din’s thumb wiping it away before he was pulling you to rest against his chest, his chin perching on top of your head. His chest-plate was icy cold—literally, still covered in ice—a gasp leaving your lips at the inescapable chill that seemed to follow you.

“I’m so cold…” You lifted your head up and stared into the darkness of his visor. He nodded once, seemingly understanding you and took off his gloves, his palms smelling of leather as he cupped both of your cheeks again.

“Better?” He asked, your head shaking. “Would you like me to take the armor off? Will that help?”

It was the only thing that would. His skin on yours, his heat melding with your own. This wasn’t even sexual, your need to feel him close.

“I missed you, Din. A lot.” You reached for the edge of his helm, Din’s hands stopping you from lifting it off.

“Come on, in the bunk.” He guided you inside the tiny bunk, Grogu finally fast asleep in his sling now that his father was home. Din closed the door and sat you down on the cot, your eyes looking at him in the faint light as he shed all of his armor and underclothes until he was in just his underwear. With a hiss of pressure, you watched him lift his helmet off, his hair messy and sweaty as it laid on his forehead. You couldn’t make out that face that had become your favorite indulgence until he kneeled down on the cot beside you, tugging you to lay down with him. Discarding your towel, you clung to his chest, face buried in his neck, inhaling his scent and allowing all that loneliness to wash away. “I’m sorry I took so long, mesh’la. I won’t leave you like that again.”

“You’re so warm,” you breathed out as you cuddled him closer, Din’s hands spread out on your back, covering you with goosebumps as he smoothed his palms across your soft skin. “I love it when we’re like this. Together…warm.”

He tilted your chin up with a finger, his brown eyes finally meeting yours. You smiled at him and he couldn’t help but smile back, his knuckles ghosting over your cheekbone. God, how you wished you could see him like this all the time. His strong nose, his plump lips, his dreamy chocolate eyes and long eyelashes—he was a sight to behold, a sight that few had ever been graced with.

“With the money I’m making for this bounty, I will have enough to repair the ship and take us away for a while. What do you think about the three of us taking a little time off? Somewhere warm?” He asked, his voice soft but still as husky as it ever was. You nodded at him eagerly, his smile widening. “Good. Tomorrow we will drop him off and then we can be on our way. Just the three of us.”

“I love you, Din Djarin.” You leaned in and held your lips close to his, a breathy moan leaving his mouth at the sound of your affections.

“I love you, cyar’ika.” He pressed his lips to yours, the remaining bits of loneliness and that icy chill now long gone, Din having kissed them away for good.

Though you knew the time would eventually come for him to leave you again for work, he would never leave you too long again. Never leave you to get this cold again.

•••

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[black-suns-rim]

I’m always in the mood for insecure Yautja who think they’re either not good enough for their human mate, or for some reason, probably after some failure like their mate getting hurt or not succeeding in a hunt and being severely injured to the point other Yautja would see them as weak and less then after the fact, they think their human will no longer want them and will leave them (or worse, choose a much stronger, higher ranked Yautja as a replacement) only to find that NOPE, their human loves them and only them will stay with them no matter what, even if their Yautja has to lean on them for the rest of their combined lives. The shock and awe and falling deeper in love with their human at the revelation🥹🥹

Ah yes, insecurity. Who doesn't love an insecure character? For this, I'm going to write it in the yautja's perspective since I haven't seen that done on here yet.

Word count: 728

Insecure Hunter

Today's hunt didn't go as I planned. I wanted to gift my mate the head of a black serpent queen to prove to her that I am worthy of her... but... I barely escaped the hive alive... I did come back with a skull of a black serpent drone, but since no one else knew of what I had originally planned, they all think I'm weak... I didn't want to tell them of my failed plan, otherwise I would have no more honor to them... I should have self detinated, it would've been better than being called weak by my fellow hunters.

I'm on my way back to Yautja-Prime with my black serpent head, cleaning it up, polishing it the best I can. It has to be perfect for her, otherwise she will see me as weak. Should I even go back to her?... she will see all my injuries and think I am weak for sure...

I take in a deep breath and sigh. From the corner of my eye, I see one of my brothers walk up to me.

"You got all banged up from a simple drone?" He placed a hand on my shoulder and shook it, "You have gotten soft, haven't you? Oomans will do that to you. Why even bother with that one ooman female? There are many Matriarchs who are more worthy than she."

I growled, "She does not make me weak!" I winced and held my side. He scuffed at me.

"Whatever you say. Oomans are just gross... but do whatever I guess. She won't sire your pups." He left after a gave him a harsh glare. Maybe he is right?... Maybe she has made me weak?...

I sighed again. I finished up cleaning the black serpent skull And waited for the ship to land on Yautja-Prime. While I waited, I rested. The hunting and blood lose made me greatly tired. I at least want to make myself look go for her once I arrive.

While I lay there on the cot, I thought... what if she left me for a stronger male if I came to her with my injuries and just a black serpent drone skull? Past mates of mine have left me for stronger males before... I just want to her to know I am worthy of her...

-a few hours pass after he fell asleep-

"Hey, get up. We're on Yautja-Prime prime, shrimp."

I was rudely woken up from my sleep with a kick to my side. I cried out in pain and chuckles of amusement could be heard. I got up amd grabbed my trophy of shame. As I limped my way out of the ship, I could see my ooman mate rush to me. I couldn't dare look at her face. I felt too ashamed.

I could feel her cup my face with her hands and bring it down to her, "what happened to you? Are you ok?"

"I... will be fine..." She looked over my wounds and gently touched them. I recoiled in pain and she apologized.

"I... this is for you." I handed her the black serpent skull And was ready to receive harsh words. She stared at it, a lot longer than what I was expecting, and it made my heart race.

"I love it!" She hugged me and I let out a yelp from the pain of my tender wounds. She apologized again.

"You... don't think I am weak?" I looked down at the ground. She grabbed the bottom of my mandables to force me to look at her.

"No, of course not! I love you and I'm happy you came back alive."

I blushed at how she had a grip on me. She could tell she has flustered me and let go.

"But-"

"No buts. You are alive and that's all that matters to me. I love this trophy you came back with, I love that it's for me and I love you no matter what happens."

I could not believe the words that came out of her mouth. It made me blush even more.

"You are one of the greatest hunters I know. I wouldn't trade you for anyone or anything."

I hugged her and she carefully wrapped her arms around me, making sure not to touch my tender injuries. Oh how I love this little ooman so much.

~~~~~~~~~

I hope you liked this ^^

[marvelouslytrekking]

The Code

Pairing: Din Djarin/gn!reader Summary: Mando leaves specific instructions not to leave the ship while he is out on a hunt. Disobey those instructions leads to very terrible consequences - will Mando make it back in time? Word Count: 3232 Warning: Mention of blood, pain, knife, torture, canon-typical violence A/N: I decided to see if the Whumptober prompts inspired anything and here this is.... days 1, 2, & 3 all in one! The specific prompts used were: 1: Bound 2: Gagged 3: “Who did this to you” I hope y'all enjoy! Also don’t forget Feedback Feeds my Soul

Main Masterlist | Other Din fics 

You knew that you should have listened to him, he told you not to leave the ship but you wanted to find something other than the terrible rations to eat. You thought that you would be fine. You made sure that the kid was secure in the ship, and you made sure that the ship was in your line of sight, you’d be able to get back to it if you needed.

Everything had been going well, you had found some fruit that was growing and from what you could tell, was edible. You had begun picking the fruit, excited to see what all you could make with what you were finding.

You heard a branch snap, but it wasn’t from your own feet. You scanned the area, surely it was just an animal but you suddenly got a sick feeling in your gut, and knew you needed to get back to the ship. You would just need to engage ground security protocols once you were onboard and both you and the child would be safe.

You had turned to head back to the ship, but it was too late. You saw that they were closer than you, there was no way for you to make it onboard before they did. You didn’t even have to think, the decision had been an easy one, you used the remote controls to engage the protocols, locking the child in the ship when the hunters wouldn’t be able to get to him. It would buy him time until Mando could get back and kill them off.

You then tried to hunker down, they hadn’t seen you yet and you had hoped that it would stay that way. It had bought you some time. You watched from the foliage as they tried to get in the ship to no avail. You felt relief knowing the child was safe, though that relief was only short lived as you suddenly heard movement behind you.

You whipped around quickly, trying to get a blaster shot off but he was faster than you expected and managed to dodge the shot, which just meant that you had signaled the others to your location. You were luckily fast enough to rip your arm panel with the controls for the ship off your arm and shoot that. You got one good step on it too before a blaster shot hit your thigh.

You crumbled to the ground from the pain of the close range shot, you desperately tried to focus on getting out of the situation or fighting your way out of the 5 men, but before you could find your footing again, the man’s foot was on your shoulder, painfully pressing it into the ground. You still tried to get a shot off at him, but he was easily able to pry your blaster from your hand.

“He sure picked a feisty one.” The hunter chucked before grabbing you by the shoulder and pulling you upright. You were surrounded by 2 other men before you were fully upright, one on each side of you, dragging you back towards the ship.

“She destroyed her controls.” The first man told the others, lifting the destroyed band.

“That’s fine, her biometrics should open the ship using the panel at the door.” Another pointed out. You were never more thankful for how paranoid Mando was, while your biometrics were required to get to the controls, to undo something like ground protocols, or really anything, a 6 digit code was also needed. And only you knew your code.

You probably should have let them figure that out themselves but you couldn’t help but laugh at them.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” He growled.

“Oh, just that even with a big ass head, you have a tiny fucking brain.” You chuckled. Your insult only earned you two fingers pushing into the wound on your leg, making you cry out.

“Not laughing now.” He smirked, happy with his work. He didn’t waste his time forcing you to the panel, pressing your hand to the reader. You could feel how smug he was when the light went green. There was a moment of anticipation, then the code boxes popped up and you felt the anger and annoyance that he felt realizing what had happened.

You felt the blaster pressed into the back of your head as he took a step away from you. “Open that door right now or I will shoot you.”

“If you kill me you’ll never get in.” You pointed out. You knew that the next few hours or days, depending on how long Mando took, wasn’t going to be pleasant, but you had no plans on giving them that code. You would rather be killed. “Go ahead and shoot me now, because it does not matter what you do, I will never give up that code.”

You turned around slowly, looking down the barrel of the gun, directly into the man’s eyes. You refused to let him think he had you scared, you wanted him to realize that he would fail, that you would die before even thinking about giving up Mando or the kid.

“We’ll see about that.” He locked eyes on you, lowering the gun only slightly. “Tie them up,” You were quickly grabbed and dragged over to a tree that was near the entrance of the ship, you were bound to the tree tightly, a little wiggling told you that you weren’t getting out very easily.

“Alimar! Can you get that damn door open?” The man you assumed was in charge asked the smallest man, who was beside the panel.

“I am trying sir, but the security is very tight and I am afraid that one wrong move and it will just lock down more.”

“Well don’t make a wrong move. I want that damn door open before The Mandalorian gets back here.”

“Now you, you’re going to make his job unneeded and you’re going to tell us your code.”

“Again, not happening.” You rolled your eyes at him. Your answer earned you a swift and strong fist to your gut. You groaned at the pain but straightened yourself.

“Fine, stop, the code is 654321.” You said, making yourself sound more out of breath then you were.

“Don’t enter that!” The man in front of you shouted to Alimar, who was about to enter it as if you would give up that easy.

“Is that the code you enter to warn your little mandalorian? You think I’m that stupid?”

“I guess you’ll never know if I ever even give you the right code or if what I say will do any number of things, from warn Mando, to locking it down further, to self destroying the ship.”

“You wouldn’t risk the kid’s life.” He glared at you, but you could tell the wheels in his brain were turning. He had to think of a way to get you to give him the code, but he had to be able to be sure it was the right one.

“Well I guess that just leaves the hard way. Can’t trust you until I can break you.”

He wasn’t lying, he had no intentions of going easy on you. He had started by changing your position, tying your hands on a branch that happened to be at the perfect height above your head. You knew this position left you much more vulnerable, and he took full advantage of that.

He started with his blaster, a shot to your shin, followed by asking for the code. You gave another random combination of 6 digits. He then walked away, towards the panel, he would examine it, then walk back. A shot to your forearm, followed by the same question. You gave another 6 numbers. He walked away, only to come back, this time with a knife.

He gave you a deep cut on the outside of the thigh that hadn’t been shot previously. You hadn’t been able to hold in the screamed pains you had been letting out after each infliction, which only seemed to make the man in front of you smile.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you did notice the sun beginning to set. He started to leave you alone for longer periods, which was good. You weren’t sure how many more you were going to be able to take. You were just praying that Mando would be back soon.

Even if you didn’t last much longer, you also started to worry about their resident mechanic. You kept your eye on his progress and were scared that he could actually manage to get through the door.

It had quickly become dark, the only light coming from the lights on the ship. You could tell it was also cooling down as well. You tried to ignore the shivers that were running through your body but there was no use.

“Shit!” You heard the man who had been on watch utter. “Boss! We got a problem, he’s here.”

“Fuck!” The man in charge frantically looked around trying to figure something out. You were about to let out a scream, something to warm Mando, but right as you opened your mouth, one of them shoved a cloth into your mouth.

“Not gonna happen.” He tightened it around your head, making sure you weren’t able to spit it out to warn Mando.

“Good, all we need to do is hide, when he gets here, he’ll be distracted with them, and by the time they can even try to warn him, we’ll jump him.” Their leader told them. They were quickly to gather the little they had and find themselves spots that they would go unseen.

You just prayed that Mando would catch their body signatures through his visor first. If he noticed them before he noticed you, then he would have a chance of fighting them off. If their plan went their way, and he was distracted by you, there was a chance they could overpower him.

You heard your name being shouted, you turned your head to see Mando, his focus solely on you. His helmet never left you, even as you shook your head viciously, trying to get him to look anywhere else, but he was in front of you quickly.

Mando was looking you over, you could feel the anger and tension that was radiating from him. Though at the moment all you could think about was warning him. You were trying to yell through the gag, but it stopped anything comprehensible from coming out.

“Who did this to you!?” Mando asked, a sharp edge to his voice, one that sent a shiver down your spine. He was quick to untie to gag, realizing you were trying to say something.

“Behind you!” Was all you could manage to get out as soon as the gag was undone.

He only had a moment to turn around and realize that he was faced with exactly who did this. His blaster was fired off before he even fully had time to process what was transpiring. His shot landed, though you were sad to realize it took down the least threatening, the mechanic.

He begins to go for the other four men, but one manages to kick his blaster out of his hand, he is left trying to fight all of them with just his hands. You tried to get out of your ropes again, to no avail and were left to watch in panic and he tried to fight them all off. He had been knocked to the ground. Not one, but two of the men on top of him holding him down. You watched as he went to use his flame thrower on his arm to get them off him, when the leader was quick to step down hard on his wrist, stopping his ability to get the flames anywhere that would be helpful.

You watched in panic as he thrashed around, trying to gain any leverage but he was outnumbered. The leader got the third man to take over holding his arm down. The two men on top of him shifted slightly, just enough so that their leader could bend down in front of Mando.

“It looks like you aren’t as sharp as everyone says.” He taunted. “I was expecting more of a fight, I didn’t think that you cared about anything under all that metal. But looks like all it took to take down the great Mandalorian was capturing his favorite little companion.”

“Leave them out of this!” He seethed, thrashing more at the mention of you.

“Oh, but why would I, when we had so much fun today while you were gone.” He smiled disgustingly. “Honestly surprised they are even awake with all I put them through today.”

His attention flickered to you for a moment, he was quick to notice you looked more panicked now than you had all day and he realized he might have just hit the jackpot.

“You know, I always wondered what you looked like under that tin can. I bet you are hideous, it’s not some creed that keeps that helmet on, but more that you are just so ugly no one would want to look at you.” He began to bend down towards Mando. If he had been thrashing beforehand, now he was frantic.

“Stop!!” You screamed, grabbing the leader and Mando’s attention. “Stop! I will give you the code, please, just leave him alone,”

“Is that all it takes to break you? You don’t want to know what he looks like? Afraid he will have to kill you after you know?”

“I think I have made it pretty clear today that my life is not what matters here.” You sighed, “Just leave him alone and I will give you the code.”

“Don’t!” You heard him beg you, but your heart was shattering, you refused to allow these men to break Mando of his creed. A creed that you had witnessed how seriously he took. You would not be a part of that happening.

You locked your eyes with his visor, hoping that you were meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry, I can’t watch them hurt you.”  

“Good.” The leader smiled, standing up over Mando. “Now no games. If the code you give me does not open that door, then I will take that helmet, kill your precious Mandalorian slowly, and make you watch. Then I will blow my way through this ship anyway and get the kid, and leave you to die. Do you understand?

“Yes. No games, just promise you won’t hurt him.” You pleaded.

“You have my word.” You knew the word of a hunter like him meant nothing, and when you noticed that Mando’s free hand was reaching slightly for a blade in the side of his pants, you realized you had a plan, one that gave Mando the time he needed to get the upper hand.

“Okay. My code is 827364.” You sighed, you gave the right number up until the last digit. The panel would light green for every correct digit, meaning that until the last moment, he would think that you were right. But you also knew he had to untie you because your bioscan would have timed out. This would hopefully allow you to give Mando some form of help, though you had minimal strength left in your body, you would try.

“Fuck.” He marched back over to you. “Don’t even think of trying anything.” He told you as he untied you from the tree. You realized just how weak you were when you nearly collapsed. You saw Mando twitch at seeing just how bad of shape you were in, but now neither of you had time to do anything about it.

“Looks like you won’t be doing anything even if you wanted to.” He smirked, practically dragging you to the ship panel. He pressed your hand to it, reading your signal. Once he was no longer in need of you, he threw you to the ground away from him.

You groaned as you hit the ground. Watching as he entered the numbers you had given him. You realized he had made a mistake when you saw a blaster that was in your reach.

You put all your effort into stretching just enough to grab it without signalling to him or the others what you were doing. You saw him tap the last number and as soon as the panel turned red you let your blaster shot go off.

The man whose foot had been holding Mando’s hand down was suddenly stumbling back, and hit the ground. Mando wasted no time, his arm coming up and the flames engulfing the two men holding him down.

They screamed in agony as they rolled off the mandalorian. He got to his feet in record time and before the leader could think to retaliate against you, a knife was plunged into his chest.

Mando marched over to him and was above him as he stumbled back into the ship. Without a word he rips the blade out and stabs it back in the other side. The knife is out of him again, this time finding a place in his stomach. Next his thigh, until finally he has enough and with a quick swipe, the man’s neck is sliced open. He tried to helplessly grab at his neck but within moments he was bleeding out on the ground.

You heard three more blaster shots before Mando was in your vision. “You’re okay, you’re going to be okay.”

You tried to nod, tried to stand up, but your body had given up on you. “I’m sorry.” You managed to get out. If you had only listened to him, you would have been in the ship and not put all of you in such danger.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He told you softly as he wrapped his arms gingerly under you. “Let’s get you patched up.”

“I could have gotten us all killed.” You whined at the pain as he lifted you.

“But you didn’t.” He sighed. He was trying to hold in the worry and anger that was still coursing through his veins. The pain and anger he felt seeing you tied to that tree, the last thing he was worried about had been his creed, and yet, you had. You refused to let them take away something that you didn’t even fully understand and he couldn’t help but love you a little more for that.

While that anger and worry could lead him to taking it out on you, you had disobeyed him, but you also risked your life for him and the child, and he couldn’t be mad at you for that. Instead he left all his anger to the men that were dead outside the ship.

He was as careful as he could be with you as he finally unlocked the ship and walked you up the ramp and quickly laid you on a cot so he could begin to patch you up.

“You saved us.” He adds softly as he notices you slip into sleep. He hoped you would sleep through the worst of the treatments if he was being honest, once he was sure you couldn’t hear him he added, “You saved me.”

[friendlygirlswag]

and,friendly girl swag? will your explanation ever grace the empty empty halls of my mind 😔 -guillermoguywife

YES IT WILL, SIR GUYWIFE! the day has come at last

okay so first off (and relating to your other ask, which tumblr didn’t let me see until NOW) !! vampires and fiddler on the roof are both VERY jewish. fiddler on the roof is obvious, as its literally about a family in a shtetl in 1905 with the most yiddish names you can imagine, but vampires. oh man oh boy. i fuckin love the jewish connection to vampires

vampires as a story concept have existed for ages all over the world (vrykolakas in greece, moroi in romania, sasabonsam in south ghana, cihuateto in aztec mythology, jiangshi in china, etc etc) but our modern day western understanding of vampires has. a really weird amount of ties to antisemitism, Especially in bram stoker’s dracula novel. like, for one, blood libels—the accusation against jews of needing human blood (especially of christian children) for the preparation of passover matzoh—had already been around for centuries at this point, so the reach between that and vampirism really wasn’t that far, all things considered. “things” being were that antisemitism and antisemitic fearmongering was extremely prevalent in the late 19th century.

anyway. in terms of bram stoker’s dracula specifically. the book opens with the diary entries of an englishman, staying in count draculas mansion in romania while he helps the count buy a house in england. an old woman warns him against travelling during the night of st george’s day, as all evil things will be at their full power. dracula warns him against wandering around the castle at night, but due to the englishmans unfortunate englishness, he does it anyway and narrowly avoids being killed by three vampire ladies because dracula rescues him and distracts the vampire ladies with a bag with a small child trapped inside. the englishman narrowly avoids getting killed by the three vampire ladies a second time and dracula packs his dirt for a ship to england, where he stalks and feeds on a woman. prof van helsing diagnoses her with acute blood loss and puts garlic around her room and on a necklace, only for them to get removed by the womans mother, both of whom die from fright after seeing a wolf shortly after. after the womans burial reports are given of children being stalked at night by a beautiful lady, who van helsing determines as the woman. they track her down and kill her, the englishman and his wife join the hunting group, and go after dracula, eventually killing him in back in romania.

(side note. surely someone has talked about how in the dracula novel, vampires can be freed of their curse by someone killing their sire, and how dracula was killed by van helsing on his ancestral soil……. surely someone has pieced that together with nandor and guillermo’s supposed-to-be roadtrip……. with nandor’s rampant self hatred and adoration for human things and guillermo’s van helsing instincts and possibly dwindling wish to become a vampire himself…..)

now for historical context: in the decade or so before dracula was published there was a huge influx of immigrant eastern european jews to england after pogroms in their hometowns. st george’s day marks the death of st george, circa 303 AD, after beint tortured and executed in palestine (majority jewish population, but under roman control/occupation) for refusing to give up christianity. in romanian myth vampires’ power dwindles as the nights become shorter, so on st george’s eve they gather and feast on as much evil power as they can get. we’ve already touched on the blood libel and the christian children thing. dracula is eastern european, wealthy, and has a lack of allegiance towards any country, all very stereotypical jewish immigrant things. his nose gets mentioned often, and shapeshifts into people you would see in jojo rabbits “yoohoo jew”. (coincidentally as part of that book, when jojo is writing down elsa’s made-up ways to recognize a jew, she tells him that they sleep upside down like bats). jews in victorian literature were often described as parasites, and there was a fear that jews would spread bloodborne illnesses— in russian folklore, vampires were created by a bloodborne infection that requires its victims to feed on blood. garlic is a natural antibiotic, and is used to cover up the smell of blood to block insects like mosquitos from locating it. not to mention how dracula’s place in london is described as having “smelled old jerusalem in it”. jewish holidays also begin at sundown, where christian holidays always start when you wake up, possibly contributing to how vampires are creatures of the night and were said to hate christian symbols.

HISTORY CLASS OVER. I MAY HAVE RAMBLED TOO FAR.

“but how does this relate to wwdits and fiddler on the roof, dear friendlygirlswag?” you ask. well.

fiddler on the roof is about a family in a russian shetl, marriages aranged by a matchmaker, and moving away from home for good, lest they get killed.

do you see where i am going with this.

tzeitel is arranged to marry a widower older than her dad, when she really wants to marry her childhood friend motel, who was too afraid to break tradition.

hodel mocks perchik’s modern interpretation of a torah story. perchik mocks her in term for clinging to the old rules of tradition, and dances with her in spite of it being prohibited.

chava gets bullied and intimidated by some goys. one of them protects her, and they form a secret relationship since marrying a goy is prohibited.

sleeping with a van helsing is well against vampiric law. nandor’s been cursed to think about guillermo every time he uses his dick. nandor was in an on and off relationship with a werewolf, vampires hereditary enemy, for Decades. and yet nandor still clings to the past so much, because he’s so afraid of what will happen if he Truly breaks tradition. the djinn is playing matchmaker, and somehow for both sides.

act 1 ends on tzeitel and motels wedding day, where perchik breaks another tradition in public to dance with hodel. the celebration ends abruptly when the russians swing by for a quick pogrom and destroy all of the poor family’s gifts.

the second to last song in act 1 is called “sunrise, sunset” and man. it’s from the parent’s perspective, watching their kids on their wedding day, and then from perchik and hodel, hoping that someday they can get married too. and i am just thinking about nandor and marwa and their shitty ass relationship and guillermo and freddie and s4e10 sunrise, sunset “baby colin reaches that awkward age.”

i am so scared

[hobiiwan]

mirror • cpt. rex

pairing: captain rex x gn!reader

warnings: post-order 66 angst, hurt-comfort but i thrive in the hurt

w/c: 1.6k

notes: i'm back with lots and lots of feelings bc i've been ghosted and it's 5 am so i should probably sleep but i hope you enjoy :D

lovely gif credit to @pieklalat!

Framed by distant moons and even further stars, the night sky never seemed more vast. If you closed your eyes, it didn’t take much to picture a Republic Star Destroyer slicing through the atmosphere of the moon whose gravity became inescapable, with you in it.

Glancing over your shoulder at where Rex had made camp for the evening, you could tell he was thinking it too. Though his eyes were closed, it was clear as watching a holofilm; reliving the searing heat of plasma bolts, shot from the blasters of his brothers, the ones he had served beside for years—the same ones he had buried just hours prior.

It felt as though there was a vice wrapped in a deadlock around your heart, constricting your chest until it threatened to collapse in on itself. You exhale sharply, willing yourself to push past the hollow ache of the now-dulled Force connection, the flashing faces of the clones and Jedi who had perished under the Order—the fear they had felt in their final moments. It was now your fear that you would never escape it.

The price of surviving the command settles atop your shoulders, making a home. A bitter, weighted reminder that you are here, alive, when you shouldn’t be—when you aren’t supposed to be.

You collapse onto the ground next to Rex, which pulls him back to the present. His eyelids flutter as he blinks slowly, once at you, then back up to the stretching expanse of the inky black overhead. He lets out a sigh, leaning up on his shoulders to cast a weary glance at his surroundings. “How long was I out?” He questions.

You reply with a thoughtful hum, “Not long. You need the rest, anyway.” It’s true. The day’s events have undoubtedly taken its toll on the both of you. But how does one go about resting after being hunted to the death?

“I’ll take first watch. Get some sleep, cyare.” He says, now sitting upright and then you know there’s no point in fighting it. You both need rest, but with the way Rex’s frame is pulled tense as a bow, his hand twitching ever-so-slightly towards his blaster, you know there’s no way he’d rest easy.

So, you offer him a victory, albeit a minute one. You pull his unarmed hand into yours and close your eyes, feeling the way he lets out a shaky breath, releasing some tension along with it. A victory—you’re still here with him.

Neither of you can be certain how long you stay that way. The low croon emitting from the transceiver is the only sign that time actually passes. Neither of you complain about the noise, either. It didn’t need to be said that the silence—this silence, was much too loud.

You do try to sleep, Rex gives you credit for that. Though, after turning for the fifth time (he counts) you give up and sit up beside him. He’s got his knees pressed to his chest, one hand curled tight around his blaster. In his other, his thumb rubs circles against the back of your hand. The answer to whether it soothes you or himself doesn’t matter.

Wordlessly, your head lowers to his shoulder, propped gently against the curve of muscle.

“Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a singer?” You murmur, glancing at the transceiver. You don’t recognise the singer on broadcast, though you do take note of the melody, slow and mellow.

Rex watches as you even try to hum along, as offbeat as you are.

“No,” he huffs something short of a chuckle, “you didn’t.”

He knows what you’re trying to do, sees it clear as day. Yet, as he watches your feet tap to the tempo of the ballad, he can’t stop himself from humouring your attempt to comfort him.

You nod eagerly, eyes widening as if to express your candor. “I was about to be one, too! Then the Jedi came and…”

Rex waits as you trail off, then clocks the far-off look in your eyes. He picks up where you left off. “Would you sing for me now?”

You return in a split second, your lips pulling into a bashful smile as you avoid his eyes. “I’m definitely rusty by now, I don’t want you losing your hearing because of me.”

The Captain nudges you teasingly, grinning when you break into soft laughter. “It would be an honour, though,” he quips.

He wonders how much of you has been hidden behind the mantle of a Jedi’s title. Who would you have been had you not been brought into the Order, raised from young to be one thing, and one thing only? Who would he be?

Once again, Rex is dragged out of his thoughts. This time, you’re tugging him to his feet. It takes an effort and a half, which you currently lack in your fatigued state.

As he looks up at you questioningly, you motion to the transceiver, dropping his hand to raise the volume. It’s enough to provide a comfortable backdrop instead of a desperate attempt to quell silence.

“Dance with me,” you propose softly, “please?”

“I don’t know how to, mesh’la.”

As if pointedly ignoring his feeble protest, your hand remains outstretched, beckoning his participation.

Maker, he’s only ever seen couples dancing on holofilms and is even more certain he has two left feet. But gazing up at your expectant self is like looking at a promise of escaping the sorrow he now knows as reality.

Really, it’s all up to him.

Rex swears he feels three times lighter from the way you beam in delight when he fits his palm into your smaller ones and helps you lift him to full height.

He stands awkwardly, clueless as to where his hands should go, how he should move. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

Below him, you soften at the uncertainty tainting his features. Taking mercy on the poor man, you lift a hand to cup his cheek, garnering his attention.

“Put your hands on my waist,” you murmur, eyes twinkling when Rex’s hands fly up to root himself to you. Your own arms loop behind his neck and he takes it as a sign to pull you into his chest, no stranger to the position.

“and now we sway.”

Such a simple command, yet Rex feels like a fish out of water. His limbs are stiff, like the serenity of the movement is a stranger. To an extent, it is.

When you take over, moving him to the beat instead, he gratefully surrenders, allowing himself a moment of tranquility.

The only sounds that reach him become the silky notes of the singer and your soft, steady breaths. If he tries hard enough, he can pretend to be in a distant galaxy, where he is not a clone and you are not a Jedi, where the war is nothing more than a brash concept and his brothers are alive and well.

Rex doesn’t realise he’s crying until your thumb smooths away a tear rolling down his face. His eyes stay closed as he wills himself to keep pretending, but he can’t.

He is still a clone but you are no longer a Jedi. His brothers are gone.

You hold him when he finally breaks, cradling his head close when his shoulders tremble with the force of his sobs. His tears soak into the collar of your singed robes, but you truly can’t find the will to care—not when the man you love is falling apart, barely held together by the threads of your embrace.

“It wasn’t them,” he chokes, shaking his head, a wretched attempt to convince himself, “—it couldn’t be.”

At that, you’re positive your heart shatters. Stars, he doesn’t deserve this. You wish with all your might to take the pain away, to rewind every clock in the galaxy and then the next, but all you can do is watch.

“It wasn’t,” you nod, lowering your forehead to press against his, “not the real them. You know they loved you.” And by the Maker, you know.

Rex’s hands clutch tightly at your robes, as if letting go of that would mean letting go of you. The last tether to what is now his past, his only constant.

What if you hadn’t made it off the ship? What if Ahsoka hadn’t gotten the chip out of him in time? What if he had hurt you?

He briefly registers your voice calling his name, cutting through the despondent scenarios that could have, by any deciding factor, become his present.

“Rex, my love,” you plead, “please look at me.”

When he raises his eyes, he finds that yours are a mirror of his own. The anguish that parallels his agony. He feels you, your presence. He’s never understood much about the Force, but he thinks this is pretty damn close.

“I’m here,” you whisper. The promise of those two words anchor you both. “‘M not going anywhere.”

You mean it. If you believed it before, there was no chance in any star in the galaxy that anyone would be able to tear you away from him now.

For the current moment, you weren’t sure if there was a place to go, even if you wanted. Less than twenty four hours ago, you had been anticipating the end of the Clone Wars. Now, it feels like you’ve been thrown onto the losing side.

“What do we do now?” Rex asks, but you both know there isn’t an answer. There’s no precedent to go off of.

Two of the finest leaders in the GAR and the Jedi Order are lost, with no one left to follow them.

There’s nothing to do but move on.

“We keep living,” you say with a heavy sigh, burying your face into the crook of Rex’s neck, “we live for them. We’ll find a way.”

You always do.

[parker-razor]

show me, feel me, teach me - ch. 4

previous // next

series masterlist!

female!reader x mando

word count: 2.8k

series summary: during a drinking game, you let slip that you don’t know much about sex. mando offers to show you what you’ve been missing, and you happily accept.

warnings: smut that’s so filthy it’s insane (extended warnings under the cut), lotssss of fluff, mentions of insecurities

a/n: today’s the first day i didn’t have to work in awhile and i had to write some more... this chapter in particular made me all blushy so lemme grab my vibrator real quick

extended warnings: somnophilia, oral (m and f receiving), thigh riding, grinding, cum eating, masturbation, multiple orgasms

*****

You watched Mando as he hauled the heavy, limp bounty up the ramp of the ship. You had offered to help, but Mando, ever the gentleman, refused. So, you and the kid watched him drag the lifeless body into the Crest, and into carbonite.

Apparently, Mando had gotten so excited to see you when he made it back to the ship last night that he abandoned the body at the foot of the ship and scurried inside and into your quarters. It wasn’t like the body was going anywhere, Mando had argued. He just needed to see you.

After your little… chat over the comm, Mando was still rearing to be with you. As soon as you had fallen asleep at the end of your call, he jumped to his feet and continued on his hunt at a speed he had yet to hunt at. He had thought that after getting some of his drive for you out of his system that he could rest for a while before he kept hunting. But just the opposite happened; hearing your voice, your moans, the way your words hit him right in the chest… Maker he just had to get back to you.

He couldn’t help himself when he saw you splayed out on your bed. Your tank top was almost see through, and you only had a pair of underwear on as bottoms. He just needed a taste.

After he quietly stripped his armor and clothes off him, he gently pulled your underwear down to your knees and knelt down on the bed. He must’ve not smelled too great after days of hunting, but he was too drunk on your presence to be self-conscious.

He couldn’t stop himself from delving between your thighs, making out with your dripping cunt. It must have still been wet from your earlier orgasm, or maybe you were dreaming of him. Maker, he hoped you were.

You were asleep, so it didn’t totally matter if he tasted you with any technique or rhythm. Flicking your clit with no real purpose other than to have your taste in his mouth, to have his tongue flooded with your essence. His cock hardened at an ungodly rate, and he couldn’t help but start stroking himself fast. He didn’t care about his pleasure, or frankly your pleasure; he just wanted to taste you.

All the sudden, he heard you speak up, and you were coming into his mouth with a vengeance, and he came all over his hand with you.

He didn’t want to bother you too much, so he figured one orgasm was enough (for now). He crawled up to you, kissing your shoulders and your neck and your cheeks. You had no doubt fallen back to sleep by then, and Mando was overwhelmed with sleep as well. He drifted off with his head rested on your chest, your hands carded through his curls as his breathing slowed.

Mando had never been with a woman like he had been with you. Sure, he hadn’t technically been with you in the biblical sense just yet, but this was so different. He had had one-night stands when he had time to spare on a hunt, some girl in a bar who gawked at his armor who he figured would be willing to let him get his frustrations out. A grateful damsel he saved, who was coincidentally being attacked by the bounty he was tracking. Not many women, but enough to know just what he was doing and just how to make someone writhe in pleasure.

But you… you were radiant.

Your beauty was unconventional; your skin rolled around your waist, your stomach hung over just a little with stretch marks littering your inner thighs and hips. When you slept, your neck folded into little rolls. But Mando adored all of it. Not in a patronizing way, but because you were truly just gorgeous. Not despite of your flaws, but because of them. They weren’t flaws to Mando, they were just what made you more and more perfect.

Many of the women he had been with exaggerated their pleasure. It wasn’t fake, just turned up a bit because they figured it would make Mando more confident. Mando hated that, when women would be dramatic when displaying their pleasure. You never did that, though. Your sounds were… primal. Like you were trying to hold them in, but you felt so good that you couldn’t help it. They were involuntary grunts, yells, and gasps. Just the memory of it made Mando hard under his armor.

Not to mention, you had never felt this way before. You didn’t know that there was an expectation for women to be loud and exaggerated in bed. The sounds you made were all you, and that is what got to Mando most.

Mando was pulled out of his daydreams as you approached him, feeling around his arms and shoulders.

“Do you have any cuts? What do you need treated? We don’t have a ton of bacta kits left, but if you really need it then-“

“I’m okay, I’m not hurt. Just a little bruised. All I want is some food and to hang out with you and the kid.”

You and Mando had grown accustomed to eating or drinking back-to-back since the drinking game that started all of this. It was better than Mando locking himself away in his quarters; he hadn’t shared a meal with someone in years. But being able to chat with you and enjoy his food was a luxury.

“What did this guy do?” you asked as you munched on some bread and cheese.

“No clue. They never really tell me, which I kinda get. A lot of these guys are scum bags, they should be ashamed,” Mando responded, taking a sip of water.

“Did this one put up a fight?”

“At first, but then he realized he couldn’t beat me.” You shivered for a moment, thinking about Mando’s strength. You knew the armor added another layer to make him seem bigger and stronger, but even without it he was built. He didn’t have a six-pack, he wasn’t totally shredded, but Maker, was he strong. His arms, his chest, his broad fucking shoulders, they made you needy. You had seen him knock out a man in one punch, some guy who had grabbed your ass at a bar. You didn’t know at the time why you felt an ache between your legs when you saw that, but now you do after your lessons.

After you had both eaten and fed Grogu, Mando decided it was time to depart to catch his second bounty. You grabbed any gear still lingering outside the ship, secured any loose weapons, and in no time Mando was preparing to take off. You were off to Naboo this time, a planet you had been dying to visit. Almost all of the planets Mando had taken you to were either barren or covered in buildings, large urban areas. Naboo was green, apparently, with beautiful buildings and cascading waterfalls. You couldn’t wait.

Mando sat in the pilot’s chair as you sat behind him in the passenger’s seat. Grogu, still exhausted from the three-day strike on sleep, snoozed in his enclosed pram in the captain’s quarters. So it was just you and Mando…

It was a bumpy takeoff; although Mando was a great pilot, the Crest wasn’t exactly shiny and new. The ship left Tattoine’s atmosphere, and after a few minutes of cruising in empty space, Mando put the ship into hyperspace.

It was quiet as Mando hit some random buttons and you watched the stars fly by you at an insane speed. You thought about last night, not remembering much other than coming hard. Were you dreaming? You remember waking to Mando’s arms around your waist and his face buried in your chest, but everything during the night was a blur.

“When… when you came back last night, did you fall right to sleep? Or did you-“

“Eat your pussy? Yeah, I just wanted to taste you. I hope that’s okay.” You gulped, slightly shocked at Mando’s bluntness. You were only really used to hearing him talk dirty while in the act, not him bringing it up so casually. You squirmed a bit in your seat, causing Mando to turn back to look at you.

“What, you like that? You like that I couldn’t wait for you to wake up before I tasted your cum? Yeah, I bet you do, pretty girl,” he rasped, making you whine and your legs clench together.

“Why don’t you come sit?”

“I’m… already sitting, Mando.”

“No, come sit over here, with me. On me.” Stars.

You rose from your seat as Mando turned his chair to face you so you’d have room to sit without the control panel in the way. His legs spread, and he sat back in his chair with his arms resting on his knees. Kriff, he looked so fucking good.

You weren’t sure how Mando wanted you to sit on him, so you straddled one of his thighs, gasping as the hard metal plate met your core.

“Oh, is that what you want, sweet thing? You wanna sit on my thigh?”

“Yeah Mando, can I please?”

“Of course, baby, just wasn’t expecting you to sit on me like that.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself in closer to him. As you moved closer, you couldn’t ignore the way it felt when you rubbed yourself on his armored thigh. It felt fucking good, the same friction you felt when Mando would use his fingers on you. Out of instinct, you couldn’t help but do it again.

“Oh fuck, is my good girl gonna grind on my thigh? Does that feel good?” You whined, Mando’s hands grasping your hips to encourage your movements. “Go ahead, baby, get yourself off on me. Take what’s yours.”

“M-Mando… feels s-so good…” Your hips sped up as the friction continued to nurse the ache growing in your cunt.

“Want it to feel better, honey? Here, let me show you,” Mando groaned, lifting you so you were planted not on his thigh, but directly over his crotch. He wasn’t wearing a codpiece, you didn’t expect him to when all he was doing was flying. So you gasped when you felt his hard cock rub up against you cunt.

“Oh, s-stars, Mando, I like this a lot…”

“Yeah? You like feeling my cock rub on you? Go ahead, grind on it, make yourself feel good.” His grip on your hips were bruising as you ground your pussy hard onto his crotch. The head of his cock nudged itself right against your clit between your clothes, making your eyes cross and hands grasp at Mando��s shoulders.

“Oh, I bet that feels s-so good, pretty girl, it feels good for m-me too… Fuck, I can feel how wet you are, it’s seeping through my pants. Keep going, you’re doing so good for me.”

Your moans got louder and louder, sounding out as “uh uhs.” Your eyebrows creased together, and Mando grabbed your cheeks to tilt your eyes down towards his.

“Look at me, baby, let me see you when you cum. Let me look into your eyes. Maker, your p-pussy is so wet, I can feel it. Come on baby I know you wanna cum, go ahead and cum.” You were shouting now, your moans echoing in the cockpit. This was the closest the two of you had gotten to fucking, and the idea of Mando’s cock being so close to your cunt sent you over the edge.

Warmth flooded you, and your legs shook violently as you came. Your thighs clenched over and over around his hips, keeping your eyes right on his visor.

“Fuck, Mando, fuck fuck, Mando, Mando!”

“Yeah, that’s it, good girl. So f-fucking good for me.” As you came down, you noticed Mando was still hard. And you still wanted him.

“Can… Can I have you? In my mouth?”

“Shit, baby, you want me to cum in your mouth?”

“Please, Mando, want you to feel good. Want your cock down my throat.” You shakily climbed off his lap and knelt to the ground. Your hands trembled as they came up to his pants, tugging at the waistband until his cock sprung up against his armor. You looked at the thigh you had just been grinding on, and saw there was a wet spot staining his armor. It made you want to cum again.

“I’m not gonna last long baby, already so close,” Mando rasped out, his chest heaving up and down in anticipation.

“I don’t care, I just need you to tell me what to do.”

“Gladly, sweet girl. Start by licking the tip, yeah just like that.” You flicked the bead of precum leaking from Mando’s cock, his taste flooding your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the tip, eventually licking down his shaft. You had almost forgotten how big he was… almost.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good. Y-You want to put it in your mouth now? You got this, baby, take it nice and- oh f-fuck me.” Your actions interrupted Mando’s train of thought, his cock entering the warm wet of your mouth. You weren’t totally sure what to do from there; Mando had just said he wanted his cock in your mouth, so now what?

“Okay, baby, you know how you stroked my cock with your hand the other day? Just do the same with your mouth, and suck while you do it. G-gonna do so well for me, I know it.” You did as he said, and his reaction was instantaneous. He moaned out so loud you’d think the whole ship could hear it. It finally hit you that Mando’s cock was in your mouth, and stars if that didn’t make a new wave of wetness flood your inner thighs. You couldn’t stop yourself from pushing your hand down your pants, rubbing your clit like Mando taught you as you sucked on him.

“H-Holy shit, baby, are you touching yourself? You rubbing that little clit? Do I make you that wet, pretty one? F-Fuck you’re doing so good, feels so good. Y-You’re a natural…” His words made you moan around his cock, the vibrations making his hips buck up into your mouth. For a second he was worried he’d gone too far, until you pushed your head down even further.

“Fuck, such a g-good girl for me, g-gonna cum in your m-mouth, d-don’t stoppp.” You sucked hard at the tip as your fingers circled faster on your clit, and you were already falling over the edge. Mando’s cum flooded your mouth as he moaned out your name, and his taste made you writhe on your fingers, white flooding your vision. The whines around Mando’s cock as you came made his orgasm last even longer, leaving him totally breathless. It took him a moment to realize that you were still probably holding his cum in your mouth, causing him to jump up and come to your aid.

“Shit, baby, here’s a rag, you can-“ He was stopped short when he noticed you breathing heavily below you, mouth agape and… empty.

“Wait, what did you do with…”

“I swallowed it. I like how you taste,” you whined, totally out of breath and fucked out. Mando’s head hit the back of his seat in awe of how hot you were, swallowing his cum the first time you took him in your mouth, just because you liked it.

“Fuck, come here, baby. Come sit in my lap, let me love on you.” You clambered up into his lap with shaky legs, overwhelmed with the amount of dopamine that flooded your brain. You were still trying to catch your breath as you rested your head on his shoulder as he rubbed your back. These were the moments you held with you when Mando was gone; his comforting touch, how gentle he was despite the damage you knew he could do. You kissed the sliver of skin that peaked out between his collar and his helmet, at which he pulled you in closer to his chest.

All the sudden you heard a crash from below the cockpit and a loud wail… Grogu.

*****

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[wickedsniffles]

Trouble that I Always Find

Masterlist

Anonymous requested Ahsoka falling ill either on one of her missions or shortly after the Clone Wars, and a concerned Rex taking care of her! I got a ton of ideas for this prompt -- hope you enjoy! 😊 AND I’M SORRY I TOOK SO LONG 

Title is from this song, which has always given me the biggest Ahsoka vibes. 

Summary: They both know that Ahsoka’s been pushing herself too hard. Does that mean that Ahsoka will actually take the time she needs to rest? Nope. Does that mean that Rex is going to let her keep working through whatever illness she’s managed to pick up? Of course not. 

Set not long after the end of the Clone Wars -- Ahsoka is 19. In an AU where Rex and Ahsoka *don’t* immediately split up to go their separate ways across the galaxy. 

Pairing: Maybe a hint of Rexsoka, if you’re looking. Third Person Ahsoka Perspective. 

Rating: Teen

Tags: PTSD mention, post-Clone Wars, light whump, sickfic, Togruta biology, hunting for food, headache/migraine, working through illness, sneezing, buildups, congestion, caretaking, self-neglect, light angst, fluff, hint of feelings

Word Count: 5.3K

If Ahsoka never sees this miserable, soggy forest planet again, it'll be too soon.

Her growing sources across the Outer Rim have informed her of soldiers in white armor gathering at the edge of the mountains, far beyond the local villages. According to the hearsay, they’re stamped with the insignia of the new Empire, and Ahsoka’s intuition tells her that that can’t be anything but bad news.

She can’t do much on her own, but she has to see if there’s a way to help these clones. She’s still haunted by the day the 501st turned on her, on their own brother. If there’s any chance they can reverse it for more of them, they have to try.

The nightmares she wakes to are filled with Rex pointing his blaster to her head, repeating the same hollowed-out phrase. Good soldiers follow orders. He knows by now when she's had one. Ahsoka is sure he can hear her gasp awake, her arms thrown out to deflect a blast that never comes.

It's almost impossible to fall back asleep after that happens, even after he insists that she's safe. Sometimes the two of them sit through the night til morning together, simply taking comfort in the fact that they're still around to remember. Other nights see them begin to talk about the past, in broken bits and pieces -- any longer and the pain of it would be too much.

Rex has insisted on coming for this recon, too, but there’s no way he can go anywhere near this. They both know it’s risky for him to be seen, no matter how good of a disguise they can manage to scrounge up. That had sparked an argument -- him insisting he wouldn’t be seen at all, so it wouldn’t matter, and Ahsoka pushing back that they couldn’t take the risk. Period.

Ahsoka’s status as a former Padawan might mark her as valuable if she’s caught using the Force. But as far as a good portion of the galaxy knows, she’s just any other disgruntled young Togruta woman. Though if Rex is seen at all, it's game over. She won't let that happen. She knows it frustrates him -- staying with the ship or the camp, and only coming out under the cover of night.

She would rather do things the hard way than not have him around to worry about at all.

Wonder what Skyguy would say right now, she thinks, squinting down at her datapad. It’s an instinctual thought, though that doesn’t stop her stomachs from sinking with sadness. Anakin loved the rain. Scruffy little desert dork. He never seemed to mind getting wet. He’d shake his head like a shaggy bantha and laugh when the water landed all over them -- her and Master Obi-Wan.

Kriff, Master Obi-Wan always looked so mad! It would take everything she had to keep from dissolving into laughter at the look on his face, no matter what kind of situation they were stuck in. And then he'd try and insist that he wasn't angry, only irritated or disappointed. Right.

But it’s just her now. And that’s something she can’t think about, no matter how the feeling of it always lingers there, in the back of her mind.

He’d tell me to quit moping and get on with my mission, she relents, rubbing at a sore montral.

The edges of her cloak are soaked through with rain, as hard as she's tried to keep out of the downpour. The plainclothes she wears in exchange for her long-retired Jedi garb do little to dull the chill of the air, though they cover her from neck to ankle in an effort to disguise her as much as possible.

From her perch in this ancient tree, Ahsoka fights not to shiver, to call on the Force to keep her warm and centered. She has to concentrate on the task at hand. She’s here for a reason, she can’t afford to let her thoughts go fuzzy the way they want to. If only her head didn't ache. It’s cutting into her usual clear concentration, annoying more than anything.

She’s not even sure that the Empire is out here. Gangs have sprung up since the death of the Republic, doubling and even tripling in number with no reasonable law to keep the peace. Maybe that’s all it is, stirred to the point of hysteria with rumors and gossip. At the very least, Ahsoka knows that she’s been sitting stock-still in this tree for hours, watching the supposed meeting place for this group. Not even a stray animal has passed by in that direction.

Kriff it.

It’s getting late, and the suns will set if she stays up here another hour. If they’re operating at night, Ahsoka’s going to come back and watch for it tomorrow, when she has some energy. Right now her stomachs feel like they’re beginning to eat themselves. Her body is sore from sitting so long in one place, and she’s eager to inch down, to stretch and move and hunt.

Casting one last listen around the perimeter, Ahsoka makes sure that she’s alone before opening her comm. It’s a good thing that the tech is waterproof.

“Hey,” she says softly. No name greeting, no code word. This channel connects to Rex and only Rex. If anyone but him were to answer, they’d have to destroy the encryption, starting all over to create a new form of secret comm link.

He picks up almost immediately, the crackling feedback of the comm making her flinch. “Hey. Any luck?”

Ahsoka sighs, watching a little flit-wren sail past her. “Not at all. If they’re here, they’re either working by night, or not in the location the villagers said they would be.”

Rex hmms his own disappointment, hesitating before speaking again. “You coming back, then?”

“Give me a minute. I’m starving.”

And not for crumbly kriffing ration bars. Even the ones that are supposed to be meat-flavored aren’t. The artificial taste coats the roof of her mouth for hours after she eats one, waxy and unappealing. Every time she peels the wrapper, she’s taken back to the mess hall of Anakin’s Star Destroyer, faced with an apologetic serving droid. Rations are low, it would beep out. Rations were often low. She doesn’t give a damn if the things are packed with a day’s worth of essential nutrients. Right now, she’s in a forest, and she’s going to get food.

It’d felt so peculiar that first time, to give into the hunting instincts always bubbling so close to the surface. Slinking low into a prowl, cornering an ash-rabbit on Andelm IV, she’d felt like an idiot. Though every breath it took echoed loud in the hollows of her lekku, its every slamming heartbeat multiplied by the thousands with her ultra-sensitive hearing. The longer she concentrated, the calmer she felt -- like she was meant to do this.

She’d locked her eyes onto the quivering black creature, her bare feet moving in the grass, soundless. This was the way of the Togruta -- to be close to the land. To feel the very pulse of it in the soles of your foot. The ash-rabbit was unaware of her until she was practically on top of it, her body tense before the pounce. Its one startled squeak before going limp between the sharp curve of her canines was its only tell.

And she had felt sorry for them in the beginning, despite it all. Despite all the war and death already sitting on her young shoulders, the first fade of life from their eyes -- from the Force -- still punched her in the gut. As she’d carefully skinned the animal, the words of old Master Eeth Koth came back to her. We cannot control the way we are born, he’d told her once. Only how we choose to carry ourselves. Be proud of who you are, Padawan, both Togruta and Jedi.

She feels much better about what she’s doing after that. For every successful hunt Ahsoka makes afterward, for herself and for Rex, she takes a small moment to thank the animal for giving them the nourishment they need to push forward in their journey through the galaxy. Her confidence soon grows, as well.

Now, though, she’s not sure she’ll be able to make the flawless kill she’s used to.

Ahsoka works her way down from her perch in the tree, wincing as every motion jostles her full-feeling head and montrals. She wants to go faster, to avoid the potential of being seen in a vulnerable position, but there’s no way she can move at normal speed without stumbling over with dizziness. Even if she can’t sense anyone around her, her survival instincts tell her not to waste any time. So the compromise is a nauseating but manageable pace, until there’s ground beneath her feet at last.

Even when she’s level, it takes a second for Ahsoka to stop seeing doubles of the trees and bushes. It’s been hours now since she’s moved more than to ease the ache of sitting in one spot, and the adjustment isn’t kind. She has to close her eyes, taking a few deep breaths in and out, wishing she’d had the foresight to bring bacta to at least numb the headache. Nothing to do about it now. At least when she’s done with this, she tells herself, she can get back to the camp with Rex and settle down for the day.

Concentrate. Listen.

If she wants to get to camp, then she’d better hurry and find something to sink her fangs into. Straightening her back, Ahsoka slowly tilts her head, letting the sounds of the forest reach her lekku. There are tiny mice scurrying under the leaves, hurrying to reach their burrows to get out of the damp. Overhead, the rustle of wings as birds cut through the rain, going back to nests or doing their own hunting. Not much of a meal, even between just the two of them.

But wait -- there. The tentative step of hooves over damp soil is a giveaway. As Ahsoka zeroes in on the sound, she can see the outline of a squat, dull green body making its way through the trees. As she holds her breath, three more emerge, moving in a pack. They’re several yards away, with their short snouts pressed to the ground as they graze.

Bingo.

Ahsoka drops her supplies at the base of the tree, moving in a low crouch toward the family of creatures. In this instance, she’s glad for the ongoing drizzle; it’ll mute her scent, and the lack of breeze is a bonus, too. She moves from tree to tree, her feet never making a sound. Ahsoka keeps her eyes on the creatures the whole time, excited at the prospect of bringing one back. They’re about as tall as her knee, stocky with short knobbly legs. Her mouth is watering at the idea of living off of real meat for a whole week, maybe even two --

A twig snaps beneath her foot, and the entire group looks up in alarm. Ahsoka freezes, becoming a statue. She can feel her pulse pounding in her head, a dull blow every time, as she tries to keep still. Blend in. Blend in. In her plain garments, she shouldn’t stand out to them. No doubt they have less-than-ideal eyesight, only alerted to motion and scent. Sound. So if she’s stock-still and quiet –

Her nose itches. Ahsoka ignores it, keeping her gaze focused on the herd. One by one, they lower their heads, turning their attention back to the ground. Good. She’ll take the smaller one then, the adolescent still sticking close to its parents. It’ll have a false sense of confidence once she closes in for the kill, something that will quickly fade one her fangs sink into its throat. Ahsoka will be sure to make it painless.

Sinking into a crouch, she eases forward, squinting a little. The hunger tearing at her stomach is impossible to ignore now, she needs to make this kill. But the itch in her nose is growing, too, frustrating beyond belief, making her eyes water. To Ahsoka’s immense annoyance, she’s going to sneeze, forced to stifle the harsh sound into the back of her palm. The gasping buildup is followed by an abrupt squeak, no louder than a mouse. Her cheeks flame with embarrassment, though only the grazing creatures are around to hear.

Her attempt at silence still isn’t quiet enough. They’ve heard her, spooked again, still anxious from her first slip-up and not content to stay in one place any longer.

Beyond angry at herself, Ahsoka decides to lunge in at the herd. Kriff this. She’s desperate, she feels like shit, she wants something to show for all the effort she’s gone through today. They scatter in all directions, lowing out their aggravated calls. Quicker than lightning, even off-balance and miserable, Ahsoka snares the smallest by its back leg. It shrieks in protest, writhing, knocking her to the ground.

The unexpected blow sends pain up her shoulder and side like a flash of light. With a strangled curse, Ahsoka grapples for its thick throat, tearing through flesh until she can feel – and sense – its life Force ebbing away. Breathing heavily, she gets to her feet, aware that she’s made a complete mess of herself. Sloppy, Anakin might’ve chastised. C’mon, Snips. You know better.

“Be quiet,” she mutters to no one, lifting the creature to carry back to camp. Now isn’t the time to be talking to ghosts.

—------

Rex blinks at her when she returns, doing a double take to hide his surprise at the state she’s in. Ahsoka knows she’s dirty, and must look as exhausted as she feels. Half of her outfit is covered in mud. Her lekku are still swollen and aching, hanging full and thick at the sides of her head, aggravating her migraine. It’s all she can do to trudge into their little camp and deposit her conquest at the fire, thankful that at least it’s stopped raining.

“Well,” he says finally. “That was more than a minute.” Then Rex is on his feet, still looking so strange in his ordinary clothes, inspecting what she’s brought back. “Impressive kill. Feed us for quite a while, I expect. How about I start on this while you get changed?”

This is what she values about Rex. He’s about as practical as they come, and not about to tease her when she’s already down. Since her day has already been long and disappointing, there’s nothing she wants more than to struggle out of her wet clothes and into something dry and clean. The fire looks welcoming, stoked with care at Rex’s hand. She knows that by the time she’s done changing it won’t be long before he’ll have enough of the creature ready for them to share.

“Sounds great,” she says through a thick sniffle, trying to pass it off with a smile. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

His response is casual enough, but Ahsoka can feel his eyes on her as she ducks into their little passenger ship. Suspicious. After knowing one another for so long, it’s hard to keep secrets. Surely he knows that she feels awful.

Closing the ship’s hatch behind her, Ahsoka sighs in the privacy of the ship, shedding her soaked garments. She redresses into some of Rex’s old blacks, comforted by the familiar material on her skin. There’s enough water left in the reservoir to splash her face clean and to rinse her arms, and she looks at her face in the small fresher mirror with a grimace. There are circles like bruises under her eyes. She looks like she’s taken a punch – and lost about three days of sleep. No wonder Rex is worried.

“Ugh…” she groans, leaning down to the med cabinet.

With any luck, some bacta smeared on her forehead and montrals will help to numb this god-awful headache. But to her disappointment, there’s only one tube left. A small, paranoid part of her doesn’t want to waste bacta on something like a headache when she doesn’t know when they’re picking up supplies again. Images of Rex injured flash in her mind, his blood slipping beneath her fingers – all because she’d wasted the bacta.

Biting her lip, she slides the drawer shut again. She can manage.

As she'd predicted, Rex is spearing portions of the animal over the fire to roast by the time she returns, and the smell is mouth-watering. He hands her the first one finished, and she sinks her teeth into it gratefully, groaning as another sharp hunger pain lances her through. Ahsoka doesn’t even care that she’s burning her mouth; it’s so good she was so hungry oh my goooooood.

Rex is watching her with an expression stuck somewhere between amusement and concern as she finishes in messy bites and gulps, tearing strips of meat from the skewer and licking her fingers clean.

“Was that…good?” he asks, suppressing a smile.

“Mmfyeah,” says Ahsoka, wiping her face on the back of her sleeve. A little voice in the back of her mind that sounds suspiciously like Obi-Wan admonishes her for eating in such an uncivilized way, but she tries to ignore it. "Starving."

"Pushing yourself too hard," Rex comments. He keeps his tone light.

Ahsoka does her best not to pout. Because according to everyone she's ever spent an extended amount of time with, she does pout. It's not as if she has a choice, does she? Neither of them do. All there's left to do is push, and push, struggling through day after day. Even when she was a Padawan, during the war. At least then, she knew there was a whole legion of Jedi out there that would protect her. The clones, too, taking her under their arms. Her ori’vode.

Now all they have is each other. They can't afford to relax.

"You look awful," he continues, digging in with flat honesty. "Don't tell me you don't feel awful, Commander."

At least he'd delivered the truth with her old title, now only a nickname. Ahsoka frowns, still refusing to answer. Stubborn. Caught somewhere between confessing just how right he is – she wants to lie down and cry – and holding her ground, to prove him wrong. Because some part of her always has to be the brave one. The Padawan who endures everything. Anakin's protege, soaring past all the others. To excel you need to have ambition along with talent and luck. And some part of her doesn't know when to give up.

"Fine," she says at last, the word hardly distinguishable through her stuffy nose. It seems to echo through her lekku, her whole head feeling stuffed. She drops her face to her hands, deflating. "I feel awful, okay? Is that what you wanted?"

Rex's face changes at once, his brows furrowing in soft concern.

"What –? No, of course I – 'course I don't want that."

He gets up from his seat on the fire, careful not to overturn the empty storage crate he'd been perched upon. Rex crouches beside her, narrowing his eyes, placing his outstretched hand to her montrals. Ahsoka winces at the touch, shutting her eyes even though he's being very, very gentle. His fingers feel nice on her skin after a moment, cool.

"Hey," Rex prompts quietly. "You feel so bad, why didn't you use some of the bacta?"

She heaves a sigh, chewing at her lip now. "S'the last tube and I didn't want – you know."

He nods. "I get it."

Relief blooms in her chest. That irrational fear refuses to leave, the sight of him hurt with no way for her to help. Ahsoka curses herself for never learning how to Force heal much more than a scraped knee, knowing she'd be no help if his life was in danger anyway. Too panicked. Too afraid. She really would've been a lousy Jedi.

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna let you be miserable, though."

"What?" She sniffs.

"Sit tight," Rex says, getting to his feet. "Don't eat all our rations while I'm gone," he adds with a teasing grin. "Gonna find you something to help."

"You can't!"

Ahsoka shoots to her feet in protest, immediately seeing double and then triple of their camp around her. Rex lurches forward to steady her, his hands supporting her shoulder and side, always there when she needs. She curses this weakness, this temporary need for his extra support. Why can't she just go back to being healthy? Why did her body decide to slow her down? She's so frustrated.

"You can't," she repeats, gingerly settling back on her own crate. "If someone recognizes you, Rex, you know we're done."

"Then no one will," he says simply.

As if it’s that easy. Knowing she can’t change his mind, all Ahsoka can do is sit there and watch him go. She couldn’t stop him if she tried, couldn’t win if it turned into a fight. Not in the shape she’s in. Long after Rex disappears from sight, she reaches for him in the Force, clinging to that familiar mind, until that too is out of reach.

For a long while, she sits and watches the fire burning itself out. She, too, feels as if she’s purposefully exhausting herself by sitting upright, waiting for Rex to return. It would be better for her to lock herself inside the ship, safer. Still she can’t seem to peel herself away until the fire is nothing but embers, her headache pounding dully in every part of her skull.

Trembling and exhausted, Ahsoka trudges to her feet. It takes her no time at all to fall asleep once she hits her cot, surrendering to a dreamless and heavy slumber.

—---------

When she comes to, Ahsoka instantly knows that something is wrong. The tiny window above her area in the ship is filled with sunlight, instead of shaded with the colors of early dawn.

Oh my god. Rex never came back.

Ahsoka stumbles to her feet, still weighed down by her sinuses. If Rex had come back, she would’ve heard him open the hatch of the ship, felt his footsteps echoing across the durasteel. Instead she’s spent hours here undisturbed, and that can’t be a good sign. She’s truly alone without him now. Cold dread starts in her chest, filling her heart like drowning waves, until –

Until she senses Rex outside, very much alive and well. Lowering the ship’s hatch with a curse, Ahsoka hurries to join him – and finds an odd sight. From the rucksack he carries with them on occasions where they have to travel afoot, Rex is pulling out handful after handful of long, dark green leaves, setting them in a pot of water over the rekindled fire.

“What the kriff are you doing?” Ahsoka says, testy.

Of course, she doesn’t manage to sound intimidating at all. Her voice doesn’t even sound like her own at this point. Rex straightens, setting his bag on the ground, and gives her what she knows is a pitying smile. Ahsoka loathes pity. Even standing here sicker than she even wants to acknowledge, she detests it.

“No bacta in the village,” Rex says by way of answer, poking the leaves further down into the water with a fork. “Least not that we could afford. Found these instead.”

Defeated, Ahsoka sinks onto a crate to watch him poke at…whatever it is he’s brought back. Her relief that Rex is even here to argue with outweighs her need to give him the third degree. Besides, she doesn’t think she has the energy to. All that matters is that he’d come back, like he’d promised, safe.

“And what are they?” she croaks.

Rex settles to sit across from her. “Natives called it pommwomm,” he says with a shrug. “Apparently the Togruta and Twi’lek travelers that pass through use it for a lot of ailments, and taught them how to use it, too.”

“Oh.”

She feels so tired and achy. It’s hard to concentrate on watching him stir the leaves in their little boiling pot; Ahsoka’s eyes keep slipping closed. She lets them, resting her chin in her palm, instead using the Force to pay attention to their surroundings. Stars, when was the last time she was this sick? She can’t remember. There wasn’t time for this in the midst of a war. Maybe, she thinks, this is her body’s way of catching up. Repaying her for all those years of never resting.

“‘Soka?”

Rex’s inquiry makes her blink back into awareness. It had been strange, at first, for him to call her anything but Commander. Now, though, she enjoys hearing her name in his voice.

“Got ‘em ready for you.”

There’s a faint menthol scent coming from the water between them. Later when Ahsoka tells Rex she can barely smell the stuff, he barks out a laugh – she must really be sick, he muses, because even he knows the smell is strong.

Fishing out a clump of boiled leaves, Rex offers it to her with an apologetic expression. “Here.”

She wrinkles her nose. “What do you want me to do?”

The faintest smile crosses his face. Amusement flickers in his life Force, as if he’s expecting her to have a negative – and entertaining – reaction. “Well, you’ve gotta – you chew ‘em. Then you spread the stuff on your lekku. Helps with colds?”

Oh. My. Stars. That’s disgusting.

“Reeeeex,” she whines. “That’s kriffing nastyyyyy.”

He clamps a hand to his mouth, but she can see his shoulders shaking with laughter. “I know,” he answers after a few moments trying to get a grip on himself. “Yeah s’not – ideal. But the people I talked to said it works great, and you – well. Ahsoka, you don’t look good. You really don’t.”

Ahsoka scowls, staring at the bowl of clumpy leaves as it cools down beside her. She knows she’s being a youngling about all this, but chewing weird plants and smearing the paste all over her head-tails is the last thing she wants to do. But if it’s the only choice she has, then so be it. Fishing one leaf out between two trembling fingers, she opens her mouth and begins to chew.

The consistency is terrible. Soft and soggy, making her hurry to shove down her gag reflex. But…the taste isn’t so bad. Sweet and minty on her tongue, spreading quickly up to her sinuses and into the hollows of her lekku. With only slight reluctance, Ahsoka fishes another leaf out, not looking forward to spitting it into a paste in front of Rex.

Conveniently, though, he seems to find himself distracted by a loose panel on the exterior of their ship. She smiles, watching him crouch down to get to work on it.

The leaf-paste is thick and sticky as she spreads it over her swollen lekku, though the sensation isn’t as unpleasant as she’d imagined. Mostly there’s relief as the cooling effects of the plant get to work on her fragile skin, and Ahsoka finds herself sighing at the welcome change. She can feel her airways clearing, the headache beginning to ebb. She’s so grateful to not be completely alone in the galaxy. To have Rex watching her back in times like this. (Or not watching her at all, in this case, giving her a little privacy for this less-than-normal course of treatment.)

Of course, that means that all the congestion is only going to drain out of her, making her sniffly again. Even by the time she’s chewed and pasted her way through the leaves, feeling ridiculous, her sinuses are unstuffing themselves.

Ahsoka squints down to catch a glimpse of her reflection in her wrist comm – yep. She looks as awful as Rex had implied. The leaf paste has stained the white stripes of her lekku a dark purple, and the shadows under her eyes refuse to budge. With her headdress left inside the ship in her hurry to see where Rex had gone, she feels strangely naked, atop it all. Usually no one sees her without it, and yet she hasn’t even thought about Rex seeing her this way until this moment.

He’s still tinkering away at the panel, leaning it against the side of the ship and inspecting a small bend in the durasteel. The last thing they need is another one flying off during a hyperspace jump. Normally Ahsoka would do it herself, but even with the pommwomm paste soothing her head, she doesn’t trust herself to work without seeing double.

But she has to get up. There’s still surveillance to be done on the suspicious area of this planet. Ahsoka knows neither of them will be content until there’s not a shadow of a doubt that there’s no Empire activity going on. A few more days of watching ought to rule out the possibility. There’s no way she can sit around moping here. Whatever’s wrong with her will pass.

“How’s it goin’ over – heyyy where d’you think you’re going?” Rex stops mid-question, almost dropping his magnaspanner in surprise. Ahsoka only gives him an innocent look, righting the wobble in her step. “Don’t even think about going back to the surveillance point today. Nope. Sorry, you’re staying put.”

Damn. He knows her too well, doesn’t he?

“Rex, you know we can’t just sit here.”

She swipes at her nose, irritated even further with the growing itch. In answer to her stubbornness, Rex stops what he’s doing and crosses his arms, prepared to be a barrier if he has to. Ahsoka narrows her eyes, rooting herself in place. She doesn’t want this to become a physical spat, but –

Her scattered thoughts of ways to disarm him vanish as she sneezes quickly into one elbow. Another embarrassingly squeaky sound, a tight breath of air, leaving her flushed dark with a blush.

“Jate jahaal,” Rex mutters, one eyebrow raised. As if he’s proving a point.

“I’m fine.”

“You won’t be if you keep pushing.” Rex sighs, his life Force filled with concern. “Think of it this way, then. Would you let me do it, if it were me? Would you want me out there?”

Ahsoka bites her lip. “Well…no.”

In fact, she’d be livid at the thought of him risking his health like that, on top of all the other risks they already have to take. She’d be worried and restless waiting for him here alone, and – oh.

Guilt lances at her heart. Has she really strayed so far from the Code? Has she forgotten that in order to care for others, she has to first care for herself? Ashamed, Ahsoka stares at her boots, wishing she’d realized what a mess she was making of things sooner.

“Come and sit back down,” Rex says softly, voice light with persuasion. “Rest. Let me fix you something.”

She hesitates for a long moment. Would it be so bad to spend the day here with him, doing nothing but napping in the planet’s sun? Something in her melts; that sounds divine. That simple joy would be a pleasure she hasn’t allowed herself in so, so long, maybe ever. Just…rest. Here with a friend, enjoying each other’s company. Maybe they could spend time talking about the good old days, when there was time between the fighting. The jokes and the laughter spread between the sorrow and pain.

“Okay,” whispers Ahsoka, and it makes him smile.

Something tugs on her heart to see it, and in that instance, she has another realization. But for now, it’s something that she’ll keep to herself, a little thing to ponder in the quiet of her mind for weeks and even months to come. For now, it’s enough to be together, to have the soft morning light. For Ahsoka to complain about looking so silly with the stupid pommwomm paste, and Rex agreeing with a light chuckle. For him to get the softest blanket out from the confines of their ship, and for her to fall asleep propped up against his shoulder.

They have one another. Through this. Through everything.