#empire!boba smut

[sleepingsun501]

Rereading and reblogging because hdjsjskdjskiwjsa!! I cannot get over this. Boba being such a sass, and arguing and fighting just because he cares so much and doesn’t know what to do with himself 🥵🥰

I love that he knows he loves the reader but he still doesn’t want her to get hurt, but he still needs her and can’t let her go.

And the top shelf, exquisite, sublime smut 😈😈 it blows me away every. Single. Time.

Afflictions

Empire!Boba x F!Reader

Summary: empire era boba is an asshole :) who does some pretty questionable shit in order to survive. but beskar and the man inside might not always be as stone cold as they seem. Word Count: 4k Chapter Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ RATING. angst, lil bit of violence, p in v sex, squirting if you squint lol, dudes a bit of an asshole during this era so Notes: this reader is chaotic and combative and tricky if only to one up Boba at every turn. heads up there's lots of name calling and yelling in this. there is also shamefully not enough boba fett content from this era (or any era fml) so I am delivering bc fett's dont break deals.

[post on ao3]

“You ever pull a stunt like that again and I’m bringing you to the nearest space port and leaving you there!” He shouted, turning on his heels the second you both stepped onto his ship. He pointed a scolding finger at you and curled his other hand into a fist at his side. He was angry, which wasn’t an uncommon emotion for the notorious Boba Fett. 

But this anger was different. More loaded and bitter, like something had really snake bitten the constantly disgruntled young, yet hardened bounty hunter. You’d gotten so used to working alongside him that you never really flinched at the sharp edges of his ire. Not anymore. His intensity matched yours and you were not afraid to bark back at him, if you had to.

You’d worked together hundreds of times over the past year or so. Embo introduced you to him after successfully helping him pull a job ransacking old republic battle stations for weapons and gear to sell on the black market. Helped him pay off some kind of debt he owed Boba. He’d never outright asked you to work alongside him, but never complained when you were brought along. 

Overtime you just became someone he could call when he needed robberies or smuggling done quickly and quietly. That’s how you found yourself partnered with him for the umpteenth time this rotation.

But your relationship, if that’s what you could call it, extended far past the average smuggling job. 

At first, you thought he’d just constantly okayed you tagging along because you were a good thief. Then you realized, although he looked every bit like some kind of killer Mandalorian machine, he was still a man under all that green paint. A rugged and sinfully handsome man. 

Deep dark eyes were as inviting as they were menacing, the scars on his face told stories of strength and enduring that he’d never speak of in words. Thick dark curls were messily swept behind his ears and matted under the weight of his precious helmet. 

Stars anyone who sees the sheer size of the man would understand the appeal, but to see what he looked like underneath was an even greater blessing. He looked every bit like those old clones still running around, but he was nothing like them.

He was cold, detached and reckless. He’d work with a team, only as long as they benefited him. No one ever really stuck around. No one but you.

The first time he made a move on you, you thought he was trying to double cross you, strangle you and sell you to the Hutt’s for the bounty on your head. Instead, he’d finally broken the awkward tension by tipping your chin up to make you look at him. That was it. 

There was something vulnerable in his eyes that sucked you in. Something desperate and emotional that flickered in whenever you looked hard enough at him. Maybe only you saw it. Ever since, you couldn’t look away. you couldn’t stop seeing that longing in him in everything he did. Trouble was, he was so stubborn, way too much to ever admit how he felt about anything. 

Your relationship was just that. Fucking to relieve tension without any further discussion about how either of you felt. He clearly liked having you around, since he hadn’t killed you yet and you liked him. From the second you saw that glimmer of decency in him, you were hooked.

Holding out for him to buck up enough courage to admit it though had gotten old. So on your last mission you took it to the extreme. Seeing just how far you could push him before he’d admit how he felt. You’d get yourself killed if it meant you could prove a point.

You double crossed your wealthy Black Sun contact by handing him his spice…only to disintegrate him, take the spice and the payment for double the reward. Though you didn’t think it through. Because the entire Black Sun army on this planet opened fire on you inside their palace. 

You would’ve gotten killed by blaster fire to the chest if Boba hadn’t jumped in front and sent the bolt ricocheting back to the blaster it came from. He grabbed you by the waist, hard, and flew you both clear through the top of the palace by jetpack. You were bloodied and scratched and bruised. But Boba was furious and that’s what brought you here. Right into your trap.

“Fine. Leave me there. I’ll take the spice and my cut. You’ll be back.” You laughed smugly, taking a nervy step toward him. “You always are. At least you are for me.”

“Don’t toy with me, you little princess. You almost got us both killed back there.” He fired back, “I don’t break deals.”

“Oh so now you’re honorable? Running spice and stealing for profit is so dignified. What’s next? Working for the Empire? You’d fit right in. Like a family reunion.” You joked darkly, thumping his chest. His head snapped up and he grabbed your wrist.

“You better watch that smart fucking mouth, girl. They’re not my family. I don’t need them. I never did. I don’t need anyone.” He spat and shoved you back, pressing your body between his chest and the ship's wall. Although you were severely testing his patience, he was still turning you on. His chest heaving in building anger and his strong hands holding onto your body were making your head spin.

“You don’t need anyone yet you’ve kept me around for 2 rotations? I’m not that good a thief, Boba. So admit it. You like me. You saved my life today. You care about me.”

He stood in front of you, both hands pinning you by your hips to the cold metal hull of Slave 1. He took several deep breaths, his armor plated shoulders rising and falling like he was charging up for a fight. “You’re imagining shit. I don’t care about you. Why should I care about anyone?” He scoffed, stepping away as if to deny himself what he really wanted.

You blinked in shock, a wall breaking down before you, even if it was just slightly. It was more than you ever thought you’d see. “Boba…” You muttered, reaching forward to grip the edges of his helmet. His shoulders sagged like he was going to let you remove it, before whirling around in renewed outrage and swatting your arms away.

“What do you want from me? Yeah I saved us both. So what? It’s just a job.” He shrugged, “don’t get your hopes up for anything else, little princess. I can just as easily replace you with someone who isn’t so distracting.”

“Stop calling me that. I’m no fucking princess and you know it. If I’m so distracting, then why keep calling me back? Someone has a hard time abandoning people. You gone soft, Fett?” You shot back, he stood up and finally removed his helmet, glaring at you with nothing but blazing venom in his dark eyes. His jaw clenched and he loomed over you.

“Go then. Stay here and let the syndicate get you. See if I care. Fuck you.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, you asshole?”

He smirked, “is that what you want? You should’ve just asked…begged me like you usually do. You know I’ll fuck the life out of you. But that’s all you’re getting after what you pulled.”

You exhaled, his words going straight to your core and sending shockwaves through every nerve in your body. But you denied it. He wasn’t getting a thing from you until you got him to open up. You were tired of playing this closed off game of his. 

“No. I want you to care. To fucking prove it, Boba. Tell me.” You demanded, tears brimming up slowly as he just stared blankly at you. 

He wasn’t going to admit it. He wasn’t going to break. You’d nearly gotten yourself killed trying to push this man to say something he couldn’t even be honest about feeling. 

“You really are a stubborn, cold fucking asshole. Can’t even let one person give a shit about you.” You huffed, swallowing your tears and turning around to walk down the ramp. If he couldn’t admit it, then you were gone. You wouldn’t stay somewhere you weren’t wanted.

Before you could take another step, his hand shot out and grabbed your arm. 

“Don’t.” He hissed, his gloved fingers digging into your forearm.

You whipped around in an attempt to free yourself and strike that pretty asshole's face if you had to. He scowled at you, anger still huffing out of him, his face saying one thing but his words saying something else. Yet those eyes of his said it all. The dark brooding anger flickered with that little something again. That desperation for something…someone. You raised your hand like you were going to smack that stupid look off his face, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Maybe you were the one who had gone soft.

“Let go of me.” You whispered, the threat sounding far weaker falling from your lips than you intended.

“No.” He stated flatly, scowling a little deeper and biting his lower lip.

“Boba…get your fucking hands off me.”

“No.” He said more indignantly now, his mouth curling into a wry grin. “You wanted me, you got me. Stay here and fight with me a little more. Yell and scream and fight me. You’re showing your hand, little princess. Never thought you’d be so sloppy.”

“Boba…I can’t fucking…stand you. You’re such an ass-”

“An asshole. Yes, you’ve mentioned that. But you like me because I’m an asshole, don’t you?”

“You’re so fucking frustrating. Why do you always have to play games? Why is it never easy? Why can’t you just let someone care about you?”

“Why? You pushy little fucking thing…you wanna know why? Why I’m so cold? Why I’m so fucking angry? Why I won’t let people in?” His voice was rising, a crazed look of exhaustive anger filtering into his handsome face. He raised a fist to the wall, grunting in annoyance as you just blinked back at him. “Because people I care about don’t stick around. But people I hate? Can’t seem to ever get rid of ‘em.” Boba blinked, his angry gaze far away as if staring at something unseen.

“Boba…” You started, unsure of what to say in response. He finally broke, revealing more to you than he ever had to anyone else. You didn’t know much about him, apart from the fact that he was obviously a clone, but it was clear that he’d been hurt enough times to make him numb. You reached for his face, hesitantly trying to make him look at you. He had to see that even in a world where he thought he had nobody, he still had you. 

Maybe that’s why he didn’t hate when you were brought on jobs. Why he always seemed to have another job lined up to keep you too busy with him to look elsewhere. That desire to be cared for. That’s what made him keep you around. Constantly, whether he knew it or not, he was searching for a companion. You wanted to console him. You hoped your touch was enough to convey that.

But he was as stone faced as usual, the anger brewing inside him practically steaming out of him as he exhaled. He blinked, probably his attempt at softening his gaze as you stared at him like there was a fog of words left unsaid hanging in a storm cloud of frustration between the two of you. The longer the seconds passed without breaking through it, the more you both steamed, further fueling the cloud. And so instead of saying what you felt, you gritted your teeth and jabbed, “well you should’ve just said so. If that’s the side of me you want, then that’s what you’ll get.”

He grunted to hide the slightest sign of a flinch of pain in those dark eyes. Maybe you were just seeing things. “This…” He gestured to the painfully obvious distance between the two of you. “...can’t ever be more than what it is. Bad things happen to everyone around me. Wouldn’t want to see that happen to you.” He took a step forward, tipping your chin up so you stood face to face. “So hate me. Hate me so no one ever harms this pretty face of yours.” His dark brows furrowed in concern and he moved close enough to cage you in between himself and the ship's hull.

You watched his eyes exploring your face, trying to decide just how careful he needed to be with you. Something he never needed to second guess before. Luckily, by now you knew his weaknesses. You knew just which buttons to press to have him rooted inside you in minutes. 

You leaned forward, your hands slowly tracing down the exposed sides of his chest, reaching for the skin underneath. You shot him a sultry smirk, hoping he could tell you were trying your best to rile him up again. “No one has to know, Boba. We’re both pretty good liars. Besides…I’m notoriously hard to please. No one believes I can be held down by anyone. Not even you.”

“Is that what you need to tell yourself, little brat?” He said gruffly, “You’re not the first woman I’ve had falling at my feet. You won’t be the last.” His gloved finger brushed down the length of your arm, igniting goosebumps all over you that he couldn’t see, but definitely knew were there.

Your hand shot up to grip his jaw, teasing him back with a flirty giggle. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Fett. I’m still deciding if I want to kill you.” You leaned in to kiss him harshly, breaking the tension with sniper-like precision. Bitten lips and teeth clashing made this feel more like war between you two than anything close to love.

“If you’re going to kill me then what you’ve got between those legs would be my weapon of choice.” He growled, breaking the frantic kisses to tear at the zipper on the front of your flight jacket. Your breasts burst from behind the fabric, his hands immediately gripping them. “And if you do kill me, I wouldn’t mind if these were the last things I ever saw. Fuck...” He swore in adoration, pressing his body into yours and letting his thigh slot between your legs.

You sighed out, unable to put up much of a fight now that he had you right where he wanted all day. Faster and faster your passionate kisses practically battled each other, working more articles of clothing off whenever you broke for breath. You both swear and curse and groan at each other, pushing buttons and touching the freshly exposed skin like you hadn’t seen it before.

You’d done this more times before than you could remember. Probably more than you could count on one hand. Yet this time you were both insatiable. Everything laid out on the table, everything raw and emotions heightened. It was already a relief just to feel something, even if it was just letting a bubble filled with anger and frustration finally pop.

Before you knew it, both of you were stripped down, clothes and armor and weapons all over the cockpit floor. His fingertips were drawing torturous circles around your clit, grunting all kinds of filth in your ear while you mewled in desperate desire underneath him. He slicked his own length up with your wetness he’d collected on his fingers and pressed himself inside you. Both of you too overstimulated, angry and ravenous to wait a second longer.

He gasped as he filled you, your hole so tight from this angle that you had to bite your lip to hold back your cries. His hands found purchase on your hip bones, turning you around with your chest against the wall so he had the view of you he liked most. He started a bone shattering rhythm, the sound of his hips slapping the backs of your thighs and nearly shifting your kidneys made you squeal.

“Gods you’re so tight. Need me to split you open…that’s why you’re such a brat. Just to piss me off so I can fuck you like this.” He groaned, his lips pressed behind your ear as he laid into you. 

You hated that it felt so good. But fuck it felt so good. You swore at yourself. All you could feel was the incessant pounding, the constant filling up tightly and sudden loss. It felt so good your eyes were welling up with tears. Your chest pressed against the wall delightfully as he pounded into you from behind over and over and over again. You turned your head, whimpering and gasping, panting in any air you could get. By now, tears were streaming down your face and you were practically crawling up the wall. Filled up and gone. Up and gone. In and out, in and out. You couldn’t contain yourself. 

Angry at him for being so goddamn oblivious, upset at him for thinking you didn’t care. That you couldn’t care about him. Your emotions were boiling over and crying and cumming was all you could do. You couldn’t tell which end was wetter. Though from the sound of it and the deliciously nasty moans emanating from him, it was probably down there. 

He was so fucking strong, so determined, so passionate and so completely into this and into you. His muscular arms were pressed onto the wall on either side of you, flexing to hold up both your weight. You could only imagine how incredibly hot he looked this way. Making a mental note to record this next time for you to watch later. 

Yet, he was stopping. Slowing down. Slower, Slower, slowing, stopped. Fucking WHY. You thought desperately. 

That’s when you realized how this must’ve looked to him. You were a sobbing mess. You glanced at him innocently, trying your best to convey how desperate you were for this to keep going. 

His usually scowling, almost angry, brow was so much softer than it had been only a half hour ago when you were screaming at each other. The passionate blazing fire in his deep brown eyes was gone, replaced by a soft, worried look. He placed his hand on your chin and tipped your face up to his, turning your body in his other hand to face him.

He was so fucking angry before. You’d never seen him so close to losing his shit, even in every fight you’d ever seen him. Nothing came close to how upset he was when he actually cared. You were so shocked he didn’t burst into tears that you were almost impressed with how well he could contain himself.

But you realized. He cares too. He was angry because he cares. He didn’t know where your head was. He could read your every quiver, every inch of your writhing body. But your heart was a mystery and that scared him more than anything else. So he did all he knew how to do, fight and fuck. And hope it worked.

You looked up at him, meeting his palms on their way up to cupping your cheeks. He wiped your tears away and you leaned into his hands gently. Your panting slowed, but transitioned to exhausted gasping. You all but collapsed your head onto his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his back. Clutching the back of his head, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Stroking the hair at the nape of his neck, you muttered, with the minimal effort you had left, “please don’t stop.”

Almost instantaneously he was back inside you. Pounding back into you so hard you practically screamed. In one swift motion, he picked you up and wrapped your legs around him, pressing your back to the wall for support. And he was back. Even harder than before. Determined to prove it to you. To show you how much he loved you. He didn’t know if it was safe to say how he felt about you. So he showed you.

The pressure was maddening. You were pulled taut around his cock, every little thrust bringing you closer and closer to cumming. You were crying again. Whether it was because you were happy or because it just felt so fucking good you couldn’t tell. 

You moaned in his ear so seductively and illicitly you don’t know how he could take it anymore. He pulled you as close to him as he could, each thrust hitting your clit perfectly. I’m so fucking close. You were stammering, seeing stars as he kept at it. You dragged your nails down his back, definitely scratching him up nicely. Marking him up for everyone to see. For everyone to know he was yours. You claimed him. Maybe even tamed him.

No. 

Not tame him. No one could ever tame the formidable, ruthless, notorious Boba Fett. And you wouldn’t want to. Wouldn’t dream of it. 

No.

You drove him wild. Made him more unrelenting. More powerful. His anger was fueled not just by lust, but with something more. Something he’d never had before. Something he’d never felt before. He’d met his match and he knew it. And nothing made him want to fuck harder than his desire to defeat that weakness he felt for you. To overcome it and make it into a strength. Now was the first time since…he’d felt another person stab through his exterior, penetrate through his carefully constructed armor, cut through the bone and pierce through to his heart…since he’d last looked into his Father’s eyes on Geonosis all those years ago.

He was groaning, his dark hair matted down to his forehead. You were so lost in him you couldn’t make out anything he was saying anymore. You couldn’t hear words, you couldn’t speak. Just feel. You didn’t want to stop feeling this, feeling him. It was all you wanted. Stars he was good. He was so fucking good. Just as quickly as the thought came to mind you were saying it out loud.

“You’re so fucking good. Fuck me…harder, Boba, fuck me.” You cried out, tipping your head back and twisting your hips as fast as you could against his thrusts. Being egged on by your reaction to how crazy he was making you feel, he was sputtering erratically. His hands reached down to play with you maniacally. He knew what to do. Circling you devilishly with just the perfect amount of pressure. You were so filled up, so ready to overflow, you couldn’t keep it in any longer. 

Before you knew it, he was coming. So fucking hard it sent you spiraling. You bit your lip so hard it was drawing blood and you didn’t care. You rocked your hips back into him riding out how amazing it felt, how unreal he felt. Wetter and hotter and even fuller than before, you felt him let go, filling you up where there wasn’t even space. You let go too, with nowhere for the juices to go but out. Your back arched perfectly into his strong chest, him holding the small of your back tightly to push you ever closer to him. You were squirting a mix of both of you and screaming his name melodically. “-fuck Boba!”

“There you go…fuck yes.” He guided you through it, rubbing your center just hard enough to keep it going. You were in delightful agony, laughing and wincing it felt so good. He kept pumping into you as long as he could and you broke, riding up and down on his cock until your legs couldn’t move anymore. 

You were trembling, your body spasming with aftershocks. He was swearing in your ear and kissing down your neck. All you could do was hug him back, cling to him tightly and hope he understood this was how you wanted to show him you loved him. I fucking love you. And suddenly it was slipping from your lips, repeatedly, over and over and over again. 

“I love you. I fucking love you.” You confessed, almost begging him to listen. You looked into his big perfect brown eyes and saw a different kind of passion than before. He smiled, honest to force fucking smiled, and ran his large palm down your back, resting it on the fullness of your ass.

“I know.” He said. “I’ve known since the second you started yelling.” He smirked, that looking far more familiar than a smile, pulling you back on top of his cock. “I love you too.” He said quietly, in the smallest voice you’d ever heard come out of the most terrifying man in the universe. “I fucking do. I fucking love my little princess.” He cursed, smirking out the teasing nicknames he knew would get under your skin. He carried you to your bed and laid down with you on top of him. 

“Would you get mad at me again if I said I just wanted to fuck it out of you? Cause I could use a round two of whatever that was.” He teased, using his strong hands to move you up and down on top of him. 

You practically lunged at him, now knowing that treating affection as a battle is what spoke to him most. You met his lips with your own and kissed him deeply. You pressed your forehead to his and ran your hands down his impossibly broad chest. You chuckled and retorted, “Come and take me then.”

--

small taglist for the boba ho's I know and love:

@galacticgraffiti @thefact0rygirl @princesszwei @sleepingsun501

[daimyosprincess]

SANCTUARY

—PAIRING: Boba Fett x Female Character

—SUMMARY: Sometimes sanctuary isn’t a place, it’s a person.

—WORD COUNT: 1.2k

—RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—TAGS & WARNINGS: third person narration, explicit sexual content, Empire era!Boba, yearning, themes surrounding sex work, oral sex (fem receiving), open-ended ending (like not sad but not necessarily happy either? ends on a sense of longing)

Please let me know if I missed anything!

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you so much @wolffegirlsunite for this amazing song prompt ask! I'm trying out third person for the first time (so lemme know if y'all like it) and idk if this counts as a reader insert but I intended for it to kinda be like one, so I kept the female character's description vague. I am also trying to practice writing shorter pieces with these song prompts and let me tell you!! I do not like shutting up!!! I have many thoughts concerning this man!!!! But it wouldn't be a challenge if it was easy 🤨

Enjoy besties 💖

Song: Sanctuary by Joji

Read on AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

If you’ve been waiting for falling in love

Babe, you don’t have to wait on me

‘Cause I’ve been aiming for heaven above

But an angel ain’t what I need

It’s always after dark when he comes to see her. Like a fallen star, he touches down on the glimmering world of Canto Bight in the dead of night—a whispered name amongst the patrons in the casino as he passes through the velvet ropes to the pleasure house above. Boba can feel their eyes, their titillation, their curiosity, their fear of him on his back as he ascends the stairs. He pays it no mind because when he crosses the threshold into the Black Rose, only one thing matters to him.

Low lights soon give way to neon walls where beautiful men and women dance, their dark silhouettes enthralling their audience as drinks are served and credits are spilled from pockets. Boba doesn’t bother to stop and admire the show, however, he strides directly over to the pink-skinned Twi’lek sitting in the corner booth. She greets him with a familiar smile, knowing who he is and what he’s here for. She nods wordlessly towards the curtain behind her and the guard steps aside to let him pass.

The music dampens to a dull thump in the gilded waiting room, the air fragranced with dusky rose and sultry amber. He takes off his helmet to let the sweet air kiss his face, a gentle brush over the tips of his ears, the bow of his lips, the tip of his nose. Boba breathes it in, the scent of his escape. The scent that clings to his clothes even after he leaves, reminding him that she’s only ever one call away, laying alone and empty of him. Those thoughts, that sinful fragrance… they make his body ache for hers.

It drives him almost as much as his desire to be the best to honor his father’s legacy. That dull throbbing in his bones is his pain’s pleasure: the satisfaction of completing another job is made even greater with the knowledge that his reward is waiting on Canto Bight. It’s only after his pucks are turned in and his bounties paid that he allows himself to see her. She is a wine he must only sip, her sweet intoxication too tempting to allow himself anything greater. 

Her taste already stains his lips, keeping him from coming in the light of day, despite that the dim interior is never any brighter than it is after the sun sets. Because then she would know. She’d know that if she’s holding out, waiting to fall into that unspoken love that she wouldn’t have to wait on him, that his heaven isn’t one floating in the sky. An angel isn’t what he needs... it’s her. 

That’s why he no longer seeks out anyone else to fulfill his desires, why she’s become the only one. Boba has experienced the thrill of pleasure with many in his years, discovered what he liked and what gave him the release he required to keep his mind clear. Most of all, however, it revealed how he needs the warmth of equal to truly soothe the burning in his core, something more than just the colorful amusement of a dancing girl or the rough diversion of another hunter on a long job. He needs more, firmer ground to touch down upon. He needs a sanctuary.

She likes to make him wait for a couple minutes when he arrives, let their mutual anticipation build to a low boil. Swiping on her trademark ruby lipstick, the Madame of the Black Rose smiles at her painted reflection. Boba Fett is in her waiting room, fresh off a hunt, pent up and ready to burn through all that raw energy. He needs her. He’s never said as much, but she knows that’s why he comes to her, to work through the knots in his soul after being wound so tight. 

Donning the sheer black robe laid out on her chair, she saunters into her waiting room practically purring with delight. Boba is reclined on the low slung chaise, legs apart with his helmet propped on his knee. His pretty lips twitch into the smallest of smiles at her appearance, his dark eyes glinting with salacious intention as they slip down her body. All she has to do is hold out her jeweled hand and he’s pushing her back into her rooms, his hot mouth sealing over hers.

The fervid way they tear into each other, pulling clothes and armor off as quickly as their tangled limbs will allow, speaks the words their lips do not: what you want is what I want. Sincerity in motion, acted out but never spoken of. Two souls that lie awake when apart dreaming of the courageous, secret reality where they give into something real. Something that they passed off for child’s play or a fantasy fit only for those on the opposite side of the galaxy’s underbelly—either way, certainly not something for them. Bounty hunters and working girls, no matter how revered or expensive, don’t get happy endings together. Not in this life at least. 

When he kneels between her thighs, Boba revels in the slick warmth and breathy moans that she allows him to wring out of her with his tongue and fingers. One orgasm is not enough for him, nor two, and just barely three before he comes up for air, panting praises and curses into her soft skin while she runs her nails through his hair. It gives her such pleasure, such luscious pride to see his glossed over eyes and slick-shined face so overwrought and pussy drunk. She hasn’t even touched him properly yet and he’s a man consumed.

When he finally gives her his cock, it’s hard and leaking, flushed with violet want. She relishes in the way he fills her cunt every single time he takes her; the lurid stretch of him burns in her veins, her heart pounds against her ribs as he snaps his strong hips against the back of her thighs. When she flips him on his back to ride him how she likes, she yanks his face up by his curls to kiss and bite and bruise her way into him. Maybe if she kisses him long and deep enough, he’ll hear all the things she cannot bring herself to say. That if he loves her like she loves him, he doesn’t have to wait any longer to make her his. That she doesn’t want an angel or a savior, just him. 

Skin to skin and cheek to cheek, she hopes there’s an osmosis of sentiment. Fuck me harder, she begs her with body, fuck me like you’re not going to leave. Fuck me like our lives won’t end up apart. And he does, again and again, every time he darkens her door. He digs his fingers in, sinks his mark into her giving flesh, pulling her so close because they can never know how long their lifetimes will be. When he holds her so tight her lungs protest and her ribs threaten to crack, she locks her legs around his muscular torso and presses her lips to his ear. We can aim for heaven above, baby, you don’t have to wait on me.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Beauty and the Bounty Hunter

Chapter 5: Hungry and Hot to Trot

(Cad Bane x Fem! Reader/OC)

*This is a second person POV (reader) fic / OC fic. It's both. I forgo physical descriptions as much as possible, though yes, you/she has a name, and a personality.

This chapter: Our dear reader wakes up hungry, but Todo doesn't know what to do! Cad Bane has left you stranded on his ship, and with a lack of any food. But it's for your own good; he's gone to find the man that kidnapped you.

Warnings: 18+ for dirty humor, nudity, mention of female anatomy, death, murder, gunfights, dismemberment, reference to fertile cycles and alien biology aka horny old man Bane headcanon, and one sassy droid.

Word count: 7.6k

Notes: I could have kept writing as I have so much ground to cover, and it has been nearly a year since I've updated. SORRY ABOUT THAT. Life got a bit in the way. I hope you enjoy this chapter, however, and I plan to keep this series going until the end, no matter how long it takes.

BATBH: Masterpost

Ao3

THIS IS A CRACK FIC! Or, as I like to call it: Slapstick Smut.

You are Aurora Ordel and you awoke with a start; you were faced with a face you could not see clearly. You screamed pure, unadulterated murder, then you were promptly gassed; you passed back out again.

“Ah, shit-”

Cad Bane palmed his face. He had acted on impulse; he had released a cloud capable of putting you to sleep; there was a hidden valve residing beneath his wrist gauntlet.

That had not been his intention, though he did not mind that you were quiet, however considering the circumstances he found himself wanting to know if he should have kept those sleemo’s breathing – torture, after all, was not outside his wheelhouse, and intel in this case was priceless.

“Mister Bane, maybe I should be in charge of the prisoner-”

“She ain’t a priss’ner!”

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

“Be out a’couple hours now. Exspectin’ Ah be back b’fore dhen,”

“You are leaving?”

The Duros had paused to lean in close; he could still smell those blasted hooligans all over your damn clothes. A rumble was emitted, the sound tantamount to a displeased grumble; Bane proceeded to rub his rostrum across your neck, chest, and the remnants of your dress.

He had taken to marking you, wanting to replace that putrid stench with his own fragrance without so much as an explanation.

Todo watched on idle, blinking his yellow eyes. All of this was beyond interesting, Bane’s behavioral response absorbed by his many microprocessors.

Cad cleared his throat; he pushed up off you, leaving you to lie there. His brow ridge stitched before he addressed the small metal man off to his left.

“Gonna find dhis Green Hair. Somethin’ don’t add up,” the hunter commented.

“Whatever do you mean? They just seemed like a gang of thugs to me,” Todo followed up.

“She’s too high-profile; jerks like dhat don’t go fer Imps widdout plannin’ on a high payout,” Bane enunciated dryly.

“You mean you think he was coerced to kidnap her, or perhaps even hired?”

Todo looked up as his master checked his gas carts; a quick once over of his gear was common. Even in the middle of a mission, Bane would habitually assess his ammunition, or lack thereof; being put in a tough spot was not something he was fond of.

“Yep,” he affirmed, turning to walk out the door.

“Wait! But Bane, what if-”

“Keep an eye on ‘er!” he interrupted. “Don’t let ‘er out of yer sight,” the Duros finalized, “or it’ll be yer metallic hide.”

Todo groaned; it was a sound usually reserved for humans and other beings. Still, it expressed his feelings, as he was not sure what to do should you wake up.

“This job is among the weirdest yet,” he complained.

Then, he did all he could do; he sat down and stayed watch, ever vigilant.

---

Two standard hours had ticked on by; you heard a few mumbled words as you once more opened up your eyes. This time, you were faced with a droid. You gasped as you scrounged for purchase.

You backed up far enough that you met with the closest wall. Unfortunately, there was nowhere left for you to go. You cursed, wondering what else you had gotten yourself into.

“There is no need to be afraid, we have already met,” Todo articulated, “but just in case: I am Todo 360, techno-service droid, and accomplice to Cad Bane.”

If nothing else, you recognized his voice; your glasses were long-gone. Your vision was blurred at best, though it was difficult to see past his gigantic head.

“Where am I?” you asked, your nails digging diligently into surprisingly soft bedsheets.

“You are aboard the Justifier, and this is where you will remain. Mister Bane has ordered that you stay put until he comes bac-”

You squealed; your voice was shrill. “You mean he’s not here?!”

The frazzled droid zipped a pace away, clearing himself of your immature display. You had begun to shake, or vibrate, trembling of all things.

“Where is he?” you asked desperately.

“He is away,” he replied simply.

“But what if they come back!” you whined, disconcerted.

“Rest assured, you are perfectly secure,” said the twitchy service droid. “There is no safer place for you than on Bane’s ship.”

You looked around, though you could barely make out your surroundings. “Are-are you sure?” you asked more quietly.

Todo chirped, irritated. “Yes, I am sure. Now, just sit still and wait patiently. I am positive Bane will be back any— Excuse me! Where are you going?” he demanded of you as you had risen to your feet.

“I feel faint,” you admitted, not seeming to remember that you hadn’t eaten in nearly three whole days; your stomach had begun to gnaw at you, craving food.

“Then why are you standing?” Todo argued, tugging at the edge of your torn and sullied dress.

“You have something, don’t you?” you inquired weakly as you stumbled across the room.

Todo sighed a human-sounding sigh, releasing his slight grip. He had to think about it. “I do not believe you will be interested in what Bane has to eat,” he explained succinctly.

“I don’t care, anything—” you managed, walking out into the hall. You were faced with a row of doors. You were not sure which to try, so you went by one at a time.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Todo scolded you as you entered what looked like a workshop of some kind; it contained within a mixed assortment of odds and ends. You wondered how he had acquired all of this. If you squinted, you could just make out what looked like clone trooper helmets; among those you thought was a Jedi’s lightsaber.

You opened your mouth to speak; Todo was not having it. “This way, please,” he said, chaperoning you like he might a helpless child.

You weaved to another entry of some sort, this one with locked tight doors. Todo was quick to apprehend you; his weensy body became a barrier. He pushed against your thighs with his tiny hands; they were cold, and the droid was adamant. “No, no! Definitely not in here. This is Bane’s private quarters! He would have both our heads.”

You huffed, exasperated. “Just take me to the kitchen!” Even so, you could not deny you wanted to know what was just on the other side…

“We do not have a kitchen-” Todo corrected you, “-we have a galley, and I am trying!”

“Whatever! Food is food!” you rationalized.

“Yes, so I have heard,” Bane’s droid tittered wryly. “Mister Bane also shares those sentiments, as you will find.”

“Well, good!” you answered in a mood. You would not concern yourself with reading between the lines. Hells, you would take a ration bar; anything was fine!

You continued on your bumbling misadventure; Todo directed you toward an abnormally large lift; you wondered what Bane carried in it. Once inside, you thought that you could smell yourself. Luckily for your inorganic tour guide, he could not tell the difference.

“Oh my God—” you began, hoisting up your arm to take a whiff. Todo shifted, gazing up at you, emotionless.

“What is it now?” he queried.

“I smell awful!” you admitted.

“That must be why Mister Bane rubbed himself all over you,” Todo conjectured.

“He what?!” 

“Truly fascinating, Duros. Although, you ought to know,” the droid complained with attitude.

You gawked at him, not believing you were being sassed by Cad Bane’s companion. Was he angry? Jealous? Protective of his master?

“I’m sorry?”

“You should be!” he explained. “He has been behaving quite differently with you around.”

The door to the lift flew open; Todo hovered out and onward. You had no choice but to follow him.

“How is that my fault?” you dared to ask.

“Well, it is, and it isn’t, you see,” Todo knew there was more to it than that.

You glanced about, finding yourself to be in the bowels of the ship. This was a part of the Justifier you had not seen previously. Not even on the day Cad Bane had dragged you in, keen on being mean, but it had backfired – you were still here.

This area seemed mostly unused, or like a storage space. Every corner was home to an oversized cargo crate. They were quite possibly chock-full of weapons, supplies. Then, on the other hand, there could be ration bars. Your thoughts drifted as did your feet; you were once more cutoff by Cad Bane’s little confidant.

“This way, this way! Do not go snooping. That is one surefire way to get Mister Bane to despise you,” Todo spoke from experience; he often wondered how young Boba Fett was doing.

“It seems like he already despises me,” you mumbled, hungrily marching forward as you finally approached another set of doors; these were double.

“To the contrary,” Todo proffered, causing your eyes to dart in his direction. He ignored the rise in your attention span, passing through into what you had called a “kitchen.”

It was full of pots and pans, plates, bowls, and numerous utensils. Most seemed unused, set to sparkling as Todo was the one who diligently polished them. There were knives, forks, spoons; there was everything but food.

“It’s so clean,” you marveled.

“You may thank me for that,” Todo retorted.

“But what does he even eat?” you whined, traipsing forward, flinging cabinets open and pulling out all the drawers. There was nothing there! Your mind reeled and your stomach growled. That’s when you finally noticed the conservator.

“Meat mostly,” Todo said offhand. “I assumed you knew everything about Mister Bane,” the feisty droid remarked, “though he also consumes what he likes to call ‘roughage.’”

You could only hope that meant salad; you could do with one right now. Or hells, even a steak would be nice, something big and juicy to suffice you. Though, on the other hand, what Todo had said kept nagging. You spouted off a question just as you pulled the door wide open.

“What did you mean ‘to the contrar-’” There was something wrapped in what looked like foil; you made your move, a bold one, to steal the scraps of Bane’s last meal.

“I would not do that!” Todo blurted out.

You pulled the wrapper back; its contents had a face, and worse yet, eyes. The only thing missing was its fur and guts; it was a chunk of flesh, raw, and oozing blood.

“What the fuck!” you exclaimed as you promptly dropped it.

“I did try to warn you,” Todo highlighted, as if he needed to.

You nearly puked, your diaphragm contracting. “That’s disgusting!” you announced.

“Maybe to you-” Todo rebuked “-but Mister Bane quite likes it.”

“Well, Mister Bane is a weirdo!” you retaliated.

“You are one to talk!” the droid rejoined.

Your hand had risen to cover your own mouth, but for what you were not sure; it wasn’t as if you had anything in your stomach to throw up. In doing so, you smelled your armpits. That in and of itself reactivated your gag reflex.

You pouted, stomping down your bare foot. The floors were duralloy and provided full resistance. However, you stepped on something squishy. You protested as you almost slipped and fell, your body nearly crumpling.

“Grossssss!” you lamented, having come into contact with whatever that dead thing was.

“I need a shower! Shower. Shower. Shower! Right now!” you demanded, beginning to scamper off without so much as knowing where you were headed. You were in such a rush you collided with a wall; you started crying at the injustice of it all.

“Oh my, oh dear,” Todo said as he came forward, prowling around you as he balanced on his thrusters. “Yes, that might do you some good. Mister Bane always feels better after a long stint in the shower. But it is back upstairs, I am afraid.”

“Take me there,” you pleaded, a hand cupping your bruised shoulder. Todo complied with your request; soon you were back on the lift.

For once, you were silent. You were tired and oh, so hungry. Your body needed energy; you moved more slowly. Todo noticed your decreased speed; he puttered around you in small circles – doing as he was ordered – yet not having the ability to meet your every need. He could only hope Bane would come back soon, as he was not sure what to do for this human woman.

You found yourself once more near Bane’s quarters, being directed to a small refresher. You nearly collapsed just inside the entrance, trying your best to undress yourself.

“Oh, uh—” Todo began, tapping metal against metal as his fingers joined together, obviously somewhat perplexed or even agitated, “—I’ll just be over here,” he stated, leaving.

You had paid the droid no mind, tugging the shreds of your clothes off that remained. You discarded your bra, then the dress as well – straight into the trash bin. Your panties were MIA, but you would burn in hell before you ever wore those things again. Besides, they smelled like others and not just you; you had put two and two together at Todo’s mention.

In theory, it was endearing. It brought you back to Todo’s comment of “to the contrary.” You hummed a little to yourself as you turned the shower on, relaxing against the wall as real liquid started streaming over you.

“Thank fuck,” you mumbled; at least he had the good stuff, sonic vibrations never did quite cut it as per your preference; he must have had a tank of water on reserve.

You let your body slide down, down, until you sat right in it. It was the most luxurious, blissful thing to happen to you in the last three days. You closed your eyes as you tried to regain your peace, but then a thought occurred to you; you had no more clothes to change into. What were you supposed to do?

For the moment, you tried not to let it worry you; the water felt too good. You breathed out a laggard sigh as you finally opened up your eyes.

You stood; your hunger was once more overpowering; you let the water stream down your face and hair, wanting to just stay there, yet the rumbling in your stomach was not a thing to be ignored. Truth be told, you still felt nauseous, finally calling out to Todo whom you thought was just outside the room.

“Excuse me, little droid? Are you there?”

It took him hardly any time to answer you. “I am afraid so,” he said sourly.

You quirked a brow; his tone abruptly changed. He now seemed eager, his programming dictating he was happiest when serving others in some capacity. “How may I be of assistance?”

You attention had been diverted; you were examining some kind of cleaning substance. It was meant to help slough off dry, dead scales; you would not use it for fear of what might happen to you. Your only hope was for some soap. That, or whatever you could find in terms of clothes; as long as they were clean and somewhat fit, you did not care one bit.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to walk around naked if you can’t find something for me to wear,” you called out to him, your voice being carried beyond the sound of running water and the boundary of the door.

Something sparked in Todo’s droid brain, causing gears to whorl and whirl; he knew just the thing! Something he thought might be more your size, as his master was tall and gangly. “Just a moment! Wait right here,” he insisted.

You heard him buzz off down the hall, then there was total silence. You allowed yourself a nice long soak, taking your time beneath the warm spray of the water. You drank from it to quench your thirst by leaving your mouth wide open; you were sure you were dehydrated. Then, you allowed it to saturate your tangled strands; it ran through all your nooks and crannies.

This would have to do until you could get back to your roost; the penthouse you called your home, seated in the lap of luxury right here on Coruscant. Or at least you thought…

As a matter of fact, you had no idea where you were or where you’d been; you were now trapped here on Cad Bane’s starship. Wherever it happened to be, that is. You had no way of knowing your coordinates, and the refresher had no viewports; it was just as well so people couldn’t spy on you.

You waited for what you felt was much too long; you turned the water off. You attained a towel, though it seemed used. You gingerly rubbed your nose in it; it smelled like Duros.

“Ummmph,” you vocalized, happy, horny, distraught, and needy all at the same time. His scent was heady. You felt you couldn’t think straight, having a wicked and troubling idea tickle your jumbled brain.

“Todo?” you tried for the droid once more; he did not answer. You opened the refresher and tiptoed out, buck naked, into the narrow corridor.

You were relieved to get no response, slinking like a tooka toward Bane’s living quarters; Todo had made it very clear to not go in here, but you only knew one thing, the thing that drove you: inside this room behind the door were Cad Bane’s extra clothes.

It did not take much effort; you pried a panel loose. Even without your glasses, this was elementary; you could rewire an automated entry with your eyes closed – too easy.

Once inside, the door again shut tight; you did not pay it any mind, as your eyes went wide, mesmerized by a plethora of mishmash things, and even trinkets. Everywhere you looked was something pretty, shiny, or otherwise unique; Cad Bane had expensive tastes for a rough and tumble mercenary.

There were unmarked credits on the bed, gold coins of unknown origin, an extra hat – which you picked up and put right on your head – and loads of other fascinating stuff.

His blankets were pristine and plush, his pillows fluffy and silky smooth. Off to one side was a box full of random treasures, one you recognized as Durosian if you squinted; you wondered if he collected artifacts from his species’ culture as a hobby, or just because it was worth something.

You blindly plundered through his drawers; there were stolen bounty fobs and palm-sized holoprojectors with secret messages. There was a datapad or two, and a box of toothpicks. You were tempted to snoop more thoroughly, but after what Todo said… You did not want Cad Bane to have your head; you wanted him in bed.

Finally, you found what you came here for -  something belonging to the man that you could wear. You had located what appeared to be a dress shirt with long sleeves; it was white with buttons down the front and hit just above your knees. You at once adorned it, inspecting yourself in a full-length mirror; you wondered if Bane often stood right here when admiring himself; you could not blame him.

You sniffed your prize and nearly melted on the spot. Satisfied, you turned around to exit. The moment your hand touched durasteel a loud noise sent you reeling. You covered up your ears as you had triggered an alarm, a screen descending from the ceiling as a recording of Bane himself played automatically before your bleary eyes.

“Stupid is as stupid does,” the Duros drawled; your breath was heavy as the sirens refused to stop their bleating. You tugged at another access hatch; you began to dislocate and mismatch wires, whining audibly.

“Bane, I’m sorry!”

The recording snickered as if he had heard you through the viewscreen, leaning forward to threaten you with the little piece of wood that perpetually lived between his teeth. “And yer about as stupid as dhey come.”

You found your mouth agape as two more things emerged: loaded blaster rifles, snuggly sequestered on either side of the Duros’ depraved yet smiling face. “Say yer prayers,” he directed.

“Oh, please, oh no. No, no!” you pleaded, bending low to shield yourself. You threw your arms above your head and squatted down till you touched the ground, pulling up a chair to act as a makeshift impediment. Blaster shots rang out, rebounding about the room and all of your surroundings. You screamed as if you were being murdered, because you were, then everything went silent.   

You gasped, feeling yourself up; you were all still in one piece, unbelievably. Standing before the now open door was that pesky, life-saving service-droid; within his hands was some kind of drab colored garment.

“What have you done?!” he wailed. “Mister Bane is going to be absolutely furious!” he proclaimed, golden eyes wide in horror and disbelief.

Todo dropped what he was holding, coming around to push against your back. He shoved with all his might, despite you still being on the floor bent down. You tried to come to terms with what just happened, and all due to a shirt; your eyes watered as you let the little robot escort you out.

“And give me that!” he griped, reclaiming the hat upon your head that now suffered a distinctive scorch mark. “Do you have any idea what this cost?!”

“A-a lot?” you asked with a quaver to your voice.

“Yes!” he retorted.

The droid stopped to pick up what had fallen, scooping it up within his arms. He stayed his fury to look at you, tilting his large cranium. “And what is that you are wearing?”

“A shirt I found,” you whispered.

“No, no, you must take that off this instant. I brought you this,” he explained, holding out something worn, brown, and understated. Despite being still terrified and near to tears, you took it to appease him.

“What is it?” you asked sheepishly.

“It is a robe, a Jedi robe, and part of Bane’s collection; he has worn it in the past when needed, and it is a wonderful disguise!”

You gave a little start, looking the thing over. “How did he get it?”

“Surely you know Bane is a Jedi-killer,” Todo quipped, leering at you. “And a most successful one at that. It is his – was – his specialty. They are all dead now, you see.”

“O-oh,” you conceded, then made a face that displayed your distress. “I’m not wearing this!” you contested suddenly.

“And why not?” he fought back, metal hands akimbo on his hips.

“What if I’m mistaken for a Jedi?” you whimpered. “What if someone else tries to kill me?” You dropped the robe, not caring that your – Bane’s shirt - was open. Todo got an eyeful as you retrieved the one thing you could use, a belt that was rather rope-like; you inspected it as Todo gawked, though he didn’t have a mouth.

He made a throaty sound, having seen the outline of your form, the curves and dips, the shape of your bare hips. “Yes, you will do quite nicely,” he commented offhand.

“Excuse me?” you snapped, beginning to button up. You fastened each closure one by one, traveling all the way up to the very top; the belt came next. You soon had fashioned the bounty hunter’s shirt into a dress.

“Well, it seems you are rather good at that! Nearly getting killed, that is, why if it weren’t for Mister Bane—”

“—No, finish that other thought,” you demanded.

Todo sighed for the second or third time, thinking he should have kept his nonexistence lips shut, but it was too late now; he settled down, then began a rather short but interesting tale.

“Duros have a finite reproductive window, and Mister Bane is getting older by the day,” he explained. You cocked a brow but kept on listening. You tried to give him your full attention, but your stomach growled; you needed food right now.

“Walk and talk,” you said.

Todo followed you as you made your way back toward the lift, this time setting course for the location of the boarding ramp; it was at the Justifier’s rear, but you were all ears.

The only thing you didn’t have was your glasses or a pair of shoes; you would make do and go barefoot; you were too hungry to give a damn.

“Well, Mister Bane has been rather grumpy as of late – grumpier than usual – and especially since coming into contact with you,” he remarked.

“I see,” you interjected, yet quite fond of this engrossing notion.

“Therefore, I have come to the conclusion it is best that he mates with you. Once he gets it out of his system, I believe that—”

You burst out laughing; that had already been your plan. “Don’t worry your big head,” you grinned. “Now, wait here.”

Todo looked around, realizing you had dropped the ramp. He had lost track of your destination, instantaneously switching gears as was his very nature, if you could call it that; he was just a culmination of ones and zeros, but it still felt like he had feelings.

“Where do you think you are going? Bane instructed us to both wait here.”

“To the market,” you answered back, having come to the conclusion you were parked somewhere near CoCo Town at a rundown spaceport.

“Come back! You should not disregard what Mister—”

“What’s he going to do, shoot me?” you jested, feeling a teensy bit more like your old self.

“Yes!” he responded, trailing close behind. “Wait! Oh, you—we’re going to be in so much trouble when he gets back!” the droid complained as he endeavored to keep you company.

“Just come with me,” you offered.

Todo bellyached, indignant. “What do you think it is I am doing? He did tell me to keep an eye on you.”

Then, he glared at you. It was rather cute. “I will make sure to tell him I tried to stop you.”

“Mhm, yes, of course,” you simpered, nonplussed, though finding his last confession had warmed your heart; he did care somewhat after all.

---

Cad Bane had assured that you were safe, but at the cost of backtracking, one of his least favorite things. He once more made his way through the Crimson Corridor, headed for the Tusken Oasis as per the Gotal he had killed. He had parked his ship far from this squalid high-crime district, thinking if you stayed aboard the Justifier nothing could go awry - that’s where he was wrong - he had underestimated the power of your stupidity, for however smart you were.

He passed the Green Glowstone Tavern; Bane knew the Bothan bartender who owned the place, yet he would not stop to chat; he had business to attend to, business regarding you.

Still, he tipped his hat; the Bothan waved right back. It was a silent interchange between two men, both busy.

The hunter continued trudging forward; crowds parted for him. Those who scurried he kept an eye on as he traversed the infamous Barsoom Boulevard.

Prostitutes tried flirting with him; a few scoundrels attempted to sell their wares. It was the ones who watched that warranted his attention; they were not clever; the Duros had dealt with all types and kinds of people, and street thugs were no different. He had an inkling that sneaking would be impossible, as these degenerates would most likely run and tell their boss; there was no use hiding –- Cad Bane was on the prowl.

This area of town was the Raptor Gang’s main hideout; he had heard from word of mouth, steadily stalking onward, eyes forward, as he could sense something sinister afoot -- an ambush.

Bane stalled, stopping dead, slowly but surely turning his hat and head. There was an eerie silence the hunter did not trust, fingers loitering above the holster of one LL-30 BlasTech pistol.

“May as well come out, cahn smell ye’ from a klick,” the gunslinger taunted.

Three bodies emerged from behind trash and refuse, big and burly, weapons drawn and at the ready, as if they thought they had anything on him. Bane grinned a sadistic grin. “Let’s make dhis quick.”

Plasma flew as shots were discharged; Cad Bane dodged it all, rolling to take up residence behind the nearest wall. He returned his own deluge of blaster fire; his aim was true. Ignorance had been their downfall; the Duros would persist in his pursuit.

“Better luck next life,” he jeered to the corpses at his feet; he stepped over them, disrespectfully. But there was one person that he did not want to disrespect if he could help it: Yanth the Hutt, owner of the prestigious nightclub for which his course was set. Though there would be no stopping him, even if that meant killing all of Green Hair’s men. Bane would try not to demolish the whole bar, but if he did? So be it.

The Crimson Corridor was empty now due to the pathetic gunmen he had encountered, its residents scared away back into their homes or other dens, places of debauchery and sin. Places Cad Bane rarely frequented except for occasions such as this; he preferred the quiet confines of his ship.

He could hear the music from a hundred yards; a Bith quartet had taken center stage. Lately, they seemed to be all the rage, but Cad Bane could care less; he approached the entrance.

A bouncer tried to guard the way, but the Duros was infamous and greatly feared; it did not take him much convincing. All the hunter did was glare until he took the hint and scrammed, the green Gamorrean deciding he desired to live and fight another day thanks to such little pay.

Bane regarded him as he up and left; he tipped his hat again. He strolled on through, being met with colored lights and statuettes of varying hues and species, some mythological in the form of beasts; the Hutt spared no expense for his well-kept business. It was quite impressive if Bane could be impressed; the only thing that had that affect on him were credits, and you had a lot of them.

There were dejarik boards and tables for sabacc, gambling men and dancing girls. There were women dressed to the nines alongside scum and villainy; all manner of people came here, including those that Cad Bane now searched out.

Twi’leks, Rodians, and Zeltrons batted their lashes at him, trying to distract him if he didn’t know better. He slipped on by, giving a flirtatious squeeze to varying rumps and waists; while he was tempted, everything had a time and place. He left a gaggle of smitten ladies in his wake.

Then, the heat was on. Green Hair sat amongst a slew of bodyguards. There was no doubt that it was him; he was a human male, lean with a wiry build. But he also sported the most ludicrous hairstyle Bane had ever seen; his green hair was kept upright by an electrostatic field. 

The Duros suppressed a laugh, coming off as composed and stoic though inside he was dying. It looked like he had stuck his finger in a socket, the man assuming he was the epitome of style; word around these parts was he was nicknamed “Fashion Plate.”

“Kids dhese days,” Bane mulled internally.

As he descended upon their table - each step slow and full of purpose - Green Hair’s men decided to act like the brutes they were, boxing the Duros inside their little circle. It there was one thing Bane did not like, it was being cornered; his hand returned to rest upon one blaster’s holster. One H'nemthe in particular got right in his face; Bane kept his cool, but cockily insulted him.

“Ah’d say ye’ must be plumb weak north of yer ears-” he heckled, “-but it don’t look like ye’ got any.”

Cad Bane sneered; he had to be one of the most hideous sleemo’s he had ever seen. A reptilian-humanoid as was his ilk, but still— at least he didn’t have three fingers or ridges on his face. He figured he had never mated; their women were said to kill them once they did –- this one was a virgin.

“Couldn’ get laid so ye’ took up clownin’, did ye’?” Bane insinuated.

That was all it took; the H'nemthe drew his pistol. Cad Bane laid him out; one shot and he would precede his brethren in death, but only by mere minutes, seconds - others were ready to avenge his name - but their green-haired leader finally said his piece.

“Let’s not be hasty, shall we?”

“Tell dhat to yer men, dipshit.”

The punk in charge smiled cordially, pretending to welcome Bane with open arms. Reluctantly, his hired guns made room for him to pass, wary, and with scowls upon their ugly mugs.

“The notorious Cad Bane,” Green Hair began. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Cut de kark,” the Duros seethed. “Who hired ye’.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

The man motioned with one arm as an introduction. “We are the Raptor Gang. This is our turf,” he said more firmly. “We work for no one but ourselves.”

“Dhen yer de one who ordered Ordel captured,” Bane growled with a curl of his upper lip.

“Oh, her,” the bottom-feeder said dismissively. “She’s just some Imp who works for the Empire. Why do you care?”

The hunter grit his fangs, remembering the state in which he found you. While it could be said Bane had done much worse, it still was not a good enough excuse.

“Dhat’s my business—” he glowered, “—but Ah’m about t’make it yers.”

Green Hair side-eyed one of the henchmen to his right; the tension was so thick it could be cut clean through with a vibroknife. The very air was pregnant with unease and animosity, the Duros’ fathomless red eyes studying his adversary. His intent was mal, Bane past the point of being patient. The human could sense his unwavering hostility, mentally preparing for if and when he would have to flee the scene.

The man who had received his subtle signal placed himself between Bane and Green Hair, as was his duty. Bane snidely smiled, taking this opportunity to bruise him; hiding behind a lackey was cowardly. “Didn’ realize Green Hair was so yello’-bellied,” the hunter mocked him.

Green Hair ignored his comment, not allowing it to get the best of him. “We were holding her for ransom,” he explained. “But no one came to collect—except for you,” he clarified.

Then, to add insult to injury, the scuzzball kept on talking; he must have thought he was safe and sound behind the blanket of some odd ten men at his disposal.

“The way I see it, you owe me for damages, bounty hunter. You got the girl, but not without destroying one of my properties and killing several of my crew-” Smugly, he took a drink to wet his tongue before he continued. “-a million credits, and I’ll let you walk away. I just know you’re good for it,” he speculated.

Bane laughed; it was dry and lustless. He had a word of his own to say, hand ever at the ready to pull his weapon should the need arise.

Green Hair had frowned at his response, or the lack of one, knowing that his horde was all eyes and ears and judging him for this; to misstep or slip-up during an interaction could be grounds for reevaluation of his leadership.

“Draw,” Bane said with strong contempt.

Green Hair sat up straight; if his mop didn’t already stand on end, it most assuredly would have. He knew who held his audience and the reputation of this dodgy Duros; it did not ease his fears as Cad Bane stood transfixed, and very serious.

“It’s only fair; I was told she was valuable,” he quickly stated, trying to keep the panic from wholly overtaking him.

Cad Bane’s austere red eyes narrowed. “Told by whom,” he barked the question.

The man dared to shrug, “heard it through the grape vine,” he said simply, so far remaining calm and collected with all his wits about him, but not for long.

“Draw,” the gunslinger echoed.

Green Hair stood up on his dais, one level above the plane on which Cad Bane watched, attentive. He had the nerve to brandish his pointer-finger, extending it to put the blame to Bane.

“Now, wait a minute! You don’t give orders around here, I’m the one who—” That finger was blown clean-off, the Raptor’s leader staring on in shock. The wound was already cauterized; the intense heat of the plasma shot had staunched the flow of blood.

“Don’ got de patience fer no lily-livered, nuna-hearted, blackguard, disssrespectful sssleazebag,” Bane rasped harshly.

“Get him!!!”  Green Hair screeched shrilly, holding his wounded hand with the one that still had all its digits. Bane was closed back in; multiple blaster bolts flew in his direction. The Duros soared sky-high per the activation of his rocket boots; this in turn caused several to drop down dead; they had gone and done his job for him.

“Too slow,” he hissed.

His taunting caused more blasters to start blazing, Bane zipping and zigzagging as he easily avoided their pathetic excuse for aim. He withdrew his second pistol; this was the end game. Not for him, but for the whole of Green Hair’s men.

Multiple rounds were fired; they were continuous. Bane’s LL-30 BlasTech pistols had been modified to suit his needs; they would never overheat. One man went down, and then another; they were dropping like Bahl flies, straight down onto the ornate carpet.

People screamed; innocents, supposedly, though this place was a rumpus room full of crooks and thieves. They dashed about like nunas with their heads cut off, knocking one another over as they scrambled to get out. Still, they had no need to worry; Bane never missed his target, and currently his sights were set on one particular maggot trying to escape his wrath.

Green Hair ran opposite, toward the back of the establishment. Bane assumed there was a hidden exit, or a tunnel he was privy to. With all his enforcers dead, the gutless sack of bantha dung had high-tailed it -- too bad for him he wasn’t faster than Cad Bane’s lariat.

With the actuation of his wrist gauntlet, he let his whipcord launch. It wound around the slimy bastard's ankles, causing him to trip over his own two feet. Bane landed gracefully; he reeled him in, the nails of Green Hair’s remaining fingers digging into the fancy rug.

It was no use; Cad Bane tugged and hauled him back. His quarry hemmed and hawed as he tried to switch his story.

“I don’t know anything!” Green Hair proclaimed to ears now deaf, hidden beneath Bane’s insulated cap and his overly large hat.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Bane snorted as he used his other arm to shoot a stream of grisly flames; they ignited the perps pants, setting them ablaze.

Green Hair screamed and yelled, twisting and turning, although he was still lassoed. He managed to bat the flames out, panting, swearing, and now met face to face with Bane as he dragged him to square up.

“Who sent ye’ afta’ Ordel,” Bane asked again.

“I don’t know, I don’t—”

Bane prepared for the smell of burning flesh. “Liar, liar, face on—” 

“WAIT!”  the asshole bellowed, deciding to change his tune to one more favorable. He breathed in and out, trying to settle himself down as two red eyes, bright as starlight, radiated hatred; this bastard’s luck had just run out-- Cad Bane was not merciful.

“Some guy, old guy. Talked with a funny accent.”

“Ah wanna name,” Bane sizzed angrily.

“Don’t have one— he said she was an engineer! Told us to watch the news. Said she’s valuable to the Empire and they would pay hefty credits to get her back! She’s a brainiac!” he explained hurriedly.

“Yer right stupid, ain’cha. Ye’ think de Empire ain’t gonna just storm yer lil’ hideout if dhey want ‘er?”

Bane glared deep into his eyes; he would both see and sense his fear. People who were scared often withheld information without the proper motivation, but the bounty hunter found he could be quite persuasive.

“Ye’ suppose dhey take kindly to extortion?”

The Duros retrieved one holstered pistol, planting it against the side of Green Hair’s spiky head. He bared his fangs; he had no qualms with offing him.

“And she’s ah brainiac yer men used an’ abused,” he hissed. “Dhere ain’t no lady who deserves dhat, not even an Imp,’ he spat.

“Now—” Bane’s words took on a darker tone, “—give me’a name, or Ah’ll assume yer de one t’answer fer all. dhose. sins,” he finished.

Green Hair truly didn’t have one, just a pseudo he had given him, and what he could remember of his unremarkable appearance.

“I dunno, man! He reached out to me; his frequency was encrypted. I shoulda known this shit was a trap!”

Bane shook and rattled him, a threat to do him in. “Now he’s gettin’ it.”

“Said I could call him-- call him Willy,” Green Hair imparted. “Maybe, he—”

“Maybe he jus’ couldn’ do it ‘imself and knew ye’ were an idiot,” Bane filled in the blanks, throwing the so-called leader of the Raptor’s back down upon the ground. If you took the time to put two and two together, it all made sense; it was an inside job, the suggestion made by one of your trusted colleagues.

“Please, don’t kill me,” the white-livered Green Hair begged.

Bane glanced down at him as if he forgot that he was there. About that time they had a visitor. One unhappy Hutt came slipping and sliding down the carpet, Yanth, the owner of the Tusken Oasis nightclub.

“Explain this!” he thundered in Galactic Basic.

Bane knew Yanth was a Vigo, one of nine, and part of Black Sun’s leadership. He was wealthy and held in high esteem. He oversaw the organization’s operations in this sector of the galaxy. He reported directly to the Underlord; it paid off to know your stuff, as Cad Bane did not want to piss him off.

“Dhis one ‘ere started it,” Bane began, yanking Green Hair up again to toss directly into the hands of one of his two men.

“Was gonna haul him in,” the Duros said all calm and casual, glancing at the shed that lined his fingertips.

“Reckon he owes ye’ some money,” Bane finalized.

“I know you,” the Hutt informed him. “You’re a bounty hunter.”

“Cad Bane, at yer service,” the gunslinger rejoined.

“Hey, that’s not—” Green Hair interrupted.

One of Yanth the Hutt’s men backhanded him across the face; he was nearly knocked out cold, blood spewing from his lips. He now hung limply in the arms of a four-limbed Besalisk. Bane grinned as Green Hair groaned; he couldn’t help it.

“Then I suppose I should thank you for getting the situation under control before it got out of hand,” the slimy Hutt-lord said.

“Tweren’t nothin’,” Bane said with a tip of his wide hat. “Consider it a gift,” he proffered, pulling out a toothpick from the inside pocket of his jacket. “So’ry ‘bout de bodies,” he added, placing his wooden chew toy in his mouth; the Hutt finally took one long glance around.

“I’ve seen worse,” he commented.

“Ah’m sure ye’ have,” Bane quipped offhand. Then, he produced a copy of his calling card; he offered it to Yanth as a way to keep the peace between them.

“If ye’ ever find yerself needin’ a bounty hunta’, give me a buzz,” Bane stated, twirling on his heel for his coat to swirl; he loved making a grand exit; he was known for his showmanship.

Bane walked, alert. He kept his eyes forward, but he was focused on his rear. His ears were sharp and his senses were perceptive. If Yanth tried to turn on him as he made his way, he would be ready, but the only thing he heard was Green Hair yelling as he was dragged along the floor.

With the Hutt in charge, he was in for his comeuppance; Bane did not pity him.

---

Once outside, Bane was unaware his worries would intensify. His first order of business had been to comm his ship and his little droid, but there had been no answer.

“Todo, how’s de lil’ hellcat doin’. Finished ‘ere,” he started, waiting patiently before he became impatient. He could not think of an excuse to be ignored, unless there was a heap of trouble brewing.

“Todo, where are ye’? Answer de comm,” Bane demanded of his companion.

For a few moments, he stopped to wonder; just who among your ranks had it out to kill you? Truth be told, this job was getting out of hand. He had a mind to leave it all behind.

Then, he remembered your annoyingly attractive face, your buxom tits, and all your assets. He would not admit it to himself, but he had somehow formed a slight attachment; he wanted to see you safe if nothing else, you had paid him to do no less.

“Todo…”  He rang his ship a second time, his droid’s name spoken with mild panic. He should have known better than to leave the two of you alone; his scales prickled as he thought of all the things that could go wrong. He had no idea about your hunger, or the lengths that you would go to get a meal, nor did he realize you had solicited his addled sidekick to go somewhere against his will.

“Ye’ gotta be shittin’ me,” Cad Bane declared, igniting his repulsor boots again. This time his aim was for his speeder, parked some few blocks off. He only hoped when he made it to the Justifier that you weren’t dead, or worse.

[buffshipper8490]

Chapter 30: The Ewoks Prince Luke encounters a mysterious native in the forest while the other Rebels desperately search for him...

Chapter 31: Revelations The Rebels and the Ewok tribe discuss an alliance; Leia reveals to Prince Luke the truth of their pasts...

Likes ❤️ and Reblogs 🔁 are much appreciated!

(artwork by @grassprint, used with permission)

Rating

Explicit

Summary

The Original Trilogy re-imagined as young Tatooine farmgirl Leia Skywalker learns the ways of the Force from old Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and joins with smuggler Han Solo and his first mate Chewbacca aboard the Millennium Falcon to rescue Prince Luke Organa of Alderaan from the clutches of the evil Sith Lord Darth Vader and the tyrannical Galactic Empire...

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter 2: Title Crawl

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... STAR WARS: THE AGE OF REBELLION It is a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil Galactic Empire on the planet of Scarif. During the battle, Rebel spies Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso managed to steal secret plans to the Empire's ultimate weapon, the DEATH STAR-- a space station with enough power to destroy an entire planet-- from an Imperial Citadel run by Director Orson Krennic, relaying them to a Rebel cruiser in orbit. Determined not to let the rebels escape, the Death Star obliterated the Citadel, and the Empire's sinister enforcer Darth Vader arrived to the aftermath of the battle in pursuit of the cruiser...

Chapter 3: Tantine IV Darth Vader pursues the blockade runner Tantine IV to retrieve the plans to the Death Star stolen from Scarif...

Likes ❤ and Reblogs 🔁 are much appreciated!

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika

Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader

Warnings: corruption arc, murder, death of minor character (i don't wanna spoil it but I wanna make sure no one is caught off guard. it's axe woves), possessive behavior, loss and anxiety, light smut, mentions of being intimate

Word Count: 7,842

Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you.

[a/n: if dark fics aren't your forte, don't worry this isn't super dark. well, not as dark as i originally planned to go. more psychological horror than physical]

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"i denied death for you. and i'd die for you again. kill for you. i'd tear the stars down from the heavens to fashion you a crown. you are my heart. my queen. i'd do anything and everything you ask me."

-Jay Kristoff

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Looking back, you had no chance of not falling in love with Din Djarin. Even despite having plenty of reasons not to. You were on the run from the Empire, trying to keep a padawan safe from them. He was hired to collect said padawan as a bounty. He was a Mandalorian. You were a Jedi. Needless to say, the odds had been stacked against you both, but falling for him was the simplest thing in all the worlds.

You had a lot of reason not to, sure, but you also had no chance in avoiding it. Not with the way he put you and Grogu above everything else⏤ even himself. Not with the way he balanced trusting you to hold your own in a fight versus protecting you when you were overwhelmed. Not with the way his hand would softly brush against you as if he wanted so badly to touch you but thought himself unworthy. Not with the way his hoarse voice whispered your name in the softest concern and care.

Never before had you put any belief in the concept of soulmates, it seemed silly, but after meeting Din you weren’t so sure. The two of you seemed made to fit one another. Complement. Make the other stronger, better. The way you both understood one another, the care and love that came so easily… It was as if you loved him in another life. Like the two of you were destined to find one another in every lifetime. Made of the same stardust and shaped by the galaxy itself.

You loved Din Djarin. You loved him so damn much, and it made watching him crumble that much harder.

“Din.” You mumbled. Boba had swooped back to pick the lot of you up after the successful rescue mission. Though calling it successful seemed…bittersweet. Grogu was safe, but Grogu was gone. You wandered closer to where Din sat in a chair. He had isolated himself the moment you all boarded the ship. He was slumped over, elbows on his knees, and head hanging down. You knelt down by his side and squeezed his arm. “Hey. I wanted to check on you.” Din nodded, but stayed silent. His helmet stayed facing down, away from you, and it broke your heart to see him so devastated. “Tell me what you need, baby. I can stay or I can give you some space.”

Again, Din did not respond, but he turned his arm just enough to grasp you by the hand. You gave it a slight squeeze and just stayed there. For the rest of the flight neither of you moved. You knew Din felt like he couldn't complain. Grogu was safe with Skywalker, set to train and harness his gifts. Softly, you reassured him that whatever he was feeling was alright. He stayed silent.

Boba and Fennec’s goal was to reach Tatooine so you and Din tagged along. It wasn’t far. You all got there in a matter of hours and when you parted ways, Boba encouraged you or Din to call him if anything was ever needed. It didn’t take long for you to get a room at an inn. 

That night in bed you held Din close. The room had been darkened so even if you did open your eyes all you could see was his silhouette. He loved you with soft touches and thankful whispers, and when the both of you were spent and exhausted Din collapsed into you. Typically, he liked being the big spoon. Din loved wrapping his body around yours, all encompassing, as if he needed to protect you even in sleep. However, tonight, Din clung to your side⏤ an arm draped over your waist as he laid his head on your bare chest. You held him close, raking a hand through his hair tenderly.

The room was filled with quiet breaths, and when Din spoke his voice was so hushed that you nearly missed it.

“Don’t leave me, cyar'ika.” He seemed to beg. “I can’t lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You said firmly. Holding onto him tighter. You continued to whisper promises of staying by his side long after he fell asleep.

Din wanted to find the covert. That was what he told you he needed. You had no qualms with that. You wanted to do whatever you had to in order to help him find some semblance of normal. Coruscant was not one of your favorite places in the galaxy, but you’d walk through hell as long as Din was by your side. As you followed him, his eyes tracking signs and clues you couldn’t see, your own gaze continued to drift to the saber hanging from Din’s belt. His newest acquisition.

Ages ago, when it had been time to build your own lightsaber, the kyber crystal you chose had really chosen you. Everybody had certain strengths, even within the Force, and yours was reading energies. Your kyber crystal seemed to sing to you. The energy it gave was warmth. It was protective. It was loyal. Building your lightsaber had been a time honored tradition you treasured. Having it hang from your hip was something you did not take lightly. It gave you strength.

The energy coming from the darksaber felt…wrong. It was hard to put into words. It was muted to you, as if trying to hide, but still the darksaber seemed to weep a negative energy into the air itself. You didn’t like it, but you had no significant reasoning why other than ‘it feels bad’.

When the two of you reached the covert, Din was adamant about you coming in with him. Even when you told him you thought it was a bad idea, he still tangled his hand in yours and dragged you in. Just as you thought the other two Mandalorians there were unhappy with seeing you. In part because of the lightsaber on your hip, but more so because you were not their kind. You were not Mandalorian. Auretii. That’s what the Armorer called you. An outsider. It wasn’t inaccurate. 

The interaction started bad and only got worse.

Paz Vizsla challenged Din for the darksaber, a man you knew that Din considered to be a brother even despite rough disagreements in the past, and watching Din use the saber sent a chill down your spine. It was too heavy in his hands, and with every swing the blade was more difficult for Din to use. You could see it in his stride. You didn’t know how to explain it⏤ it was always difficult to explain the way an energy felt to you⏤ but the saber was fighting. It was annoyed.

Din won the battle.

“Din Djarin, have you ever removed your helmet?” The silence that followed the question broke your heart. “Have you ever removed your helmet?” You felt useless watching Din endure this pain. It was the same watching Skywalker carry Grogu away. You were a witness to his suffering. “By Creed, you must vow.”

“I have.”

“Then, you are a Mandalorian no more.”

The walk back into the depths of Coruscant was silent and painful. You slipped your hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I’m here. I’m not leaving. You will not lose me. Din returned the squeeze, but the pain was radiating off him in palpable waves. A feeling washed over you and your eyes darted to Din’s hip where the saber rested. Smug. It felt smug. 

The two of you walked into the covert as Mandalorian and Jedi, but left as Apostate and Aruetti.

You had the opinion that Din never got to properly mourn the loss of the Razor Crest. With everything going on at the time, it seemed like the least of the problems you both had. However, it's loss was felt now. Even in the short time you spent with Din and Grogu, the ship had become a place of comfort. For Din, the Crest had been all he had for so long⏤ it was his home. It held all his belongings and in a singular second it was all gone.

That aching wound was constantly festering, but when the two of you were forced to ride in public ships to get from world to world you could tell it stung Din the most. That’s how you’d have to get off Coruscant, but a small victory came in the form of a message from Peli. 

“Din, you’re not gonna believe this.” You grinned as he returned from whatever errand he had to do. “Peli has a possible Razor Crest replacement. She just messaged me. If we can just get to⏤”

“No.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but Din took you by the hand and began to travel the opposite way of the small inn you were staying in. “What?”

“I found a ship. Here. Already purchased it.”

Surprise washed over you. “Wait.” You tried to get him to stop and look at you, but Din seemed like a man on a mission. “You bought it already? Without even asking me?”

“It was my credits.”

The words stung. It was so dismissive. Nothing like the way Din usually spoke to you. He always discussed big decisions with you, just as you did with him. The two of you were a team. Through and through. Din seemed to sense your displeasure and his steps faltered.

“Cyar'ika, ni ceta.” Din murmured. You recognized the apology. He turned and settled a hand on the side of your face. “I…I don’t know what came over me. I suppose I was just excited.”

“It’s…” You lifted a hand to cup the one tenderly caressing your cheek. Din had just lost his Creed. The cornerstone of his existence. Of course, he’d be short. You’d be more worried if he wasn’t showing signs of being upset. You gave him a tight lipped smile. “No, I’m sorry. Are you alright? How do you feel?” Din didn’t respond. “Baby?”

He shook his head, his voice quiet. “I’m just ready to be off world.”

“I understand.” You gave him a smile. “Show us our new home then.”

Din let out a small chuckle and you took that as a victory. He led you to a yard of ships and pointed out a black ship with burgundy accents. It was nothing special. It wasn’t the Razor Crest. However, it had enough space for the both of you.

“This is nice.” You explored the cargo hold. 

“It’ll do.” Din countered.

You jumped when you heard the ramp closing and as Din passed you to get to the cockpit, he set his hand on your lower back to take you with him. As you settled in the passenger seat, you watched as Din familiarized himself with the control panel. When the ship reached the atmosphere, you leaned forward.

“Hey, maybe we should go see Peli anyways. Say hello.” You suggested. “She can look the ship over and tell us if we need anything…” Peli would just rip you off, but she was a familiar face. Boba and Fennec were on Tatooine as well. You thought Din could use more than just you. A reminder that he had more in his life than he thought. “Din?”

“No.” Din replied. He placed in a set of coordinates and you recognized them to be Nevarro. Well, maybe that would work. Karga was there. Cara too. Last you heard, Mayfeld was kicking around the newest establishment. The ship slipped into hyperspace and Din held a hand out to you. When you took it he yanked you toward him and you fell onto his lap. “We’re needed in Nevarro. Karga.”

He said it as if the name was enough. Before you could ask for further clarification, Din was tossing his gloves aside. He hit a button that shaded the windows, dimming the room till it was nearly impossible to see then he whispered to close your eyes. It was natural for you to do just as he asked. His hands grasped at your hips, pulling you down to grind against your core, and a pair of lips began to leave open mouth kisses along your neck.

“Cyar'ika…” Din breathed as he wrestled your shirt off you. Rough and desperate. Yanking your breast band off with it. The moment you were bare to the chilly air of the cockpit, Din’s hot mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, teeth grazing sensitive skin, and you moaned. Din pulled away and you already missed his mouth. “Need you. Need all of you.”

Din loved you with rough hands and frantic begging. When the two of you were spent, breathless and sweaty, you slumped against his body. Din trailed his hands up and down your spine as if he couldn’t fathom not touching you.

“I can’t lose you.” He murmured in your ear. “Not you, cyar'ika.”

“You won’t.” You reassured him. “You won’t lose me.”

The reason Din stopped in Nevarro, stopped to see Karga, was for bounty pucks. You had never seen him take so many at once and he said less than ten words to the High Magistrate of Nevarro before dragging you back to the ship. 

A distraction. You convinced yourself. It was just a distraction. 

Din needed something to keep his mind busy and what better than bounty hunting? As long as you were there to keep an eye on him, make sure he’s cared for, then everything would be alright. It might take time, but it would be okay. That’s what you told yourself. Over and over and over. You wondered if the reassurance was more for your benefit. 

The first couple of bounties went normal, but slowly things began to feel…different. Wrong. The quarries Din brought in were more often cold than warm these days. He seemed to be favoring the darksaber as well. It had gone from a weapon used as a last resort to one of his regulars. Din got better with the weapon after every quarry, and the saber’s energy felt like it was singing. As wrong as it all felt, Din seemed himself still. In fact, he almost seemed closer to his normal self. The aching sadness and mourning wasn’t so present. 

“Din?” You called out from where you sat at the small table. Rather than staying on the new ship, the two of you had rented a room at a local inn. It put you closer to where the current quarry was hiding. “You in the mood for something specific? For dinner, I mean?” Din had stepped into the bathroom to clean up and still had yet to come out. “Baby?”

Concern began to take root, but the door opened and you felt it slip away only to be replaced by shock. A stranger in familiar armor stood in the doorway. Din. Din was helmetless. You quickly shut your eyes with a curse. Heavy footfalls crossed the room to stand in front of you and you felt Din’s warm hands on your cheeks.

“Cyar'ika, look at me.”

“Din, what are you doing?” You gasped. It had been nearly two months since the covert, but even then he kept his helmet on. Never took it off. You didn’t understand what had suddenly changed now so suddenly. “I⏤”

“I want you to see me.”

“But⏤ But, why now?”

Din’s thumbs were tracing your cheek and he wouldn’t answer your question. He murmured again for you to open your eyes and you hesitantly peeked through your lashes. Din stood towering above you. From where you sat, you had to look up to admire his features. His appearance was never important to you. You fell in love with the soul inside that armor. Din always swore you’d see his face one day, but the context would be different. He’d whisper about a future together as you both laid tangled in bed. 

He was handsome. Strong features, pretty dark brown eyes, scruff along his jaw. And his hair, you were finally able to see the dark slightly loose curls that you’d run your fingers through. You slowly stood and lifted a hand to trace his features.

“Am… Am I okay?” Din asked. 

The phrasing of the question was odd and it took you a moment to garner a guess. You cupped his face with a broad smile. “You’re more than okay. You’re perfect. Maker, it’s kind of not fair how handsome you are.” You kept your tone teasing and Din chuckled. The sight of his smile warmed your chest. “What brought this on?”

“I am an Apostate.” Din said firmly and you felt your own smile falter. His dark brown eyes stayed locked onto yours and though they held the depth and soul you always knew they would there was something else there. “I am no longer Mandalorian. Why should I hide my face any longer?”

“Din…” You mumbled. Concern leaking into your voice. This was quite the huge and sudden leap to make. “You⏤”

He leaned in and pressed a light kiss against your lips. The kiss turned deeper as Din began to devour you. Needy and wanting. Desperate. Soon he had you picked up into his arms so he could slam you against the wall. It always felt like Din craved you⏤ that wasn’t in debate. Right now though, he was like a man starved. As if he had never had never had you before and was worried he’d never have you again.

Din loved you like a man possessed. Pressed between him and the wall he was unrelenting. Still, held tight by the man you were in love with, Din moaned and begged for you to stay with him. He didn’t even pause to let you reassure him. Just praised the way you felt and pleaded for you to be his. 

There was something wrong with Din.

As you sat in the dingy alley, panting heavily from your near death experience, that was the first thought to occur to you. A hunt had gone wrong. One of the quarry’s allies had gotten the jump on you. You had taken a few hits, saw an opening to save yourself, but before you even had a chance the goon was being ripped off of you. Din had saved you, but it didn’t feel like being saved from where you sat.

Din had ripped the man off you and rather than use the darksaber he chose to beat the goon bloody with his hands. Blood splattered in the alley, on his otherwise spotless armor, and you found yourself trembling. The man who had been attacking you was long dead, but Din did not stop. His face was twisted in rage and hate. You called out his name, more than once, and eventually he paused in his onslaught to catch his breath. His chest was heaving from exertion and you could tear your eyes away from the red that stained his silver beskar.

Slowly, Din rose and stalked toward you. For a brief moment, you didn’t recognize Din. You didn’t know the stranger towering over you. He knelt down and reached out to cup the side of your face. The hot blood of the man Din had slaughtered smeared across your cheek. You could feel it and it sent a chill of fear down your spine. The hate began to dissipate from his eyes. There was a softness you recognized now, but for the first time you’d describe Din as hollow.

“Are you okay, cyar'ika?” He breathed. You nodded nervously. Din grabbed you by the arms and pulled you to stand. He let out a sigh of relief and wrapped you into a tight hug. He pressed you against his blood stained armor and laid his head on top of yours. Din shook his head, a shaky breath slipping from his lips, “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you. No one will take you from me. I swear it, cyar'ika.” 

Relief and love radiated from Din, but all you could feel was the humming possessive energy that the darksaber blasted into the air around you both.

The sensation of dropping out of hyperspace woke you up. You blinked and reached out to a cold bed. Din had gotten up and was now dropping you out of hyperspace? You pushed up and slid out of bed. You found Din in the cockpit and the sight of an unfamiliar world hung in view just outside the ship. 

“Where are we?”

“Mandalore.”

You sat down in the passenger seat and grabbed Din by the knee forcing him to set the ship to drift and turn to face you. “What the kriff do you mean Mandalore?” Din didn’t respond. He leaned back in his seat and just stared at you. You were still trying to get used to seeing him without his helmet. Din rarely wore it these days. Even in a fight. “Din.”

“We’re meeting allies here.”

“For what?!”

“We’re recovering our home.”

Din was answering the questions as if you were being ridiculous for even asking them. As if you had been privy to this knowledge. Frustration made your temper flare. “Din, are you serious!?” He didn’t react and somehow that was worse. “We need to talk.”

“Then talk.”

Things had only gotten worse with Din. You were scared of what he was capable, but never in relation to you. No matter how cold his eyes grew, no matter how lost in got in a brutal fight, no matter how bitter the darksaber made the air, you knew Din wouldn’t hurt you. That knowledge was ingrained in your very soul. What worried you⏤ what kept you awake at night⏤ was your worry for Din. He always said he couldn’t lose you, but it felt like you were the one losing him.

“Baby.” You murmured and rose to take a seat in his lap innocently. Just trying to get closer to him. You cupped his face and at your contact the cold, distant look in his eyes briefly cracked. Din stared up at you in adoration and love. “I’m… I’m scared.”

Din furrowed his brow and sat up. His arms wrapped around your waist. “Don’t be. You never have to be scared. I’m never going to let anything hurt you.”

“No, Din, that’s not what I’m scared of.” You replied. “I’m scared for you. I’m worried about you.”

“I’ve never been better, cyar’ika.”

You raked a hand through his hair trying to convey every ounce of passion you felt for him in the simple motion. “Din… I’ve been wanting to say this for some time.” You shook your head. “The darksaber.” There was a flash of something unrecognizable in his gaze, but you pressed onward. “It’s… dangerous. You know when I told you about my lightsaber. It’s energy.” He nodded. “The darksaber gives off an energy too, and I don’t like it.”

“What do you mean?” Din asked.

“It feels like,” You winced and struggled for a description to match, “poison. Din, baby, it feels like poison.” Din shook his head as if he still could not understand what it was you were trying to say. “I think it’s a bad influence.”

Din scoffed but the curl of his lips made it seem like he wasn’t taking your statement seriously. “Cyar’ika, it’s a sword. It can’t influence me.”

“It’s not just a sword, Din. It has a kyber crystal in it and⏤”

“Are you trying to tell me I need to get rid of it?” He pressed. You gave a small nod. “I can’t. I need it.” You opened your mouth to argue, but his arms tightened around you. “If we’re going to take Mandalore back, recover it, then I have to use the darksaber. Be Mandalor.”

Your eyes widened. “Since when did you want that title??”

“But more importantly, I need it to protect you.” He whispered, ignoring your question entirely. Din leaned his forehead against yours and the touch was so soft and reverent that you shuddered. He took in a slow deep breath. “You are my priority. Always. The darksaber grants me the power to keep you safe.”

You pressed a tender kiss to his lips and Din’s breath hitched. As you spoke, you kept your lips close enough to brush against his with every word. “You never needed it before. And I’m not helpless. You know that.” Din closed his eyes and you dragged your fingers through his scruff. “We were fine without the darksaber. We don’t need it.”

Din leaned in to capture your lips with his. For the first time in a very long time, the kiss was slow and patient. He took his time tasting you and he leaned back to allow your hands to travel and explore him. It was so reminiscent of the days before everything fell apart that you almost cried.

Eventually, he pulled back and focused his heavy gaze on you. Din gave you a small smile, a hand tracing your jawline. “No, cyar’ika. The saber stays.” Your own smile faltered and fell. He left one last chaste kiss on your lips. “I love you. I will protect you.”

Your life on Mandalore was odd. Din left you out of the loop of everything. All you knew was that more and more Mandalorians arrived by the day to follow Din Djarin. It didn’t surprise you. The Din you knew and loved was a natural born leader whether he liked it or not. He had a magnetic draw to him. You didn’t see that side to your Din very much anymore. 

The city around you was slowly being rebuilt and you pondered your next move. Two months you had been on this rock seeing Din from a distance. Watching him turn into someone you didn’t recognize. When the palace was reestablished, a sentence you found obnoxious and ridiculous, Din moved you there to stay. He’d work all day, drift into your shared bedroom at night, and you mourned the days where everything was easier. Simple.

“Cyar’ika.”

You glanced over your shoulder to see the Mandalor approaching. The king of this world looked like Din, still stared at you as if you hung the moon and stars, but all you could see was the darksaber. It’s possessive energy clung to the man you loved. Two Mandalorian guards followed behind him, and you briefly admired the thick, fur lined cape that hung off one shoulder.

Din came to a stop in front of you and motioned to himself with a sheepish smile, “What do you think?”

“Very regal, Mandalor.” You teased softly.

Din drifted closer and took your hands in his. “Ni ceta, cyar’ika.” He mumbled. “I know I haven’t been around.”

“You’ve been busy. I get it.” You shrugged and tried to keep the bitterness out of your voice.

“But you come first. You always come first.” Din said firmly. “Things will be better from here on out. We’re stable. We’re established. And… I have a surprise for you.” Nervously, Din lifted your hands to tenderly press a kiss to them. “I have no right to ask, but will you give me your time today.”

It was so sweet. It was so Din. You were too overwhelmed to do anything but nod. Things could always turn around, you told yourself. All your time here, distanced from Din, you had planned. He needed a little exposure to his old life. You were the only person Din kept. Maybe seeing Boba and Fennec, seeing Peli, seeing Karga, seeing anyone would bring him back to the surface more permanently. You had even wanted to get in touch with Skywalker or Ahsoka to plan some kind of visit. If Din could see Grogu, you had no doubt he’d snap back into reality. He’d set aside the darksaber. The issue was, Mandalore still had thick storm clouds that prevented any outside interference or messaging. 

You felt isolated.

Din looped your arm through his and you walked by his side down the long hallway. You weren’t sure where he was taking you quite yet, but he spoke casually about his day and asked about yours with real interest. His smile was so warm and sincere that you could almost ignore the negative energy that damned saber gave off.

“Where are we going?” You asked as Din turned down a hall you knew would lead outside. “If we go out, I’m gonna need to grab my jacket.” Mandalore’s seasons still confused you and it almost seemed like the previous attacks had thrown the natural order out of balance. Lately, it had been rather cold.

“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you.” Din chuckled. He paused by the doors and you couldn’t help but glance at the two silent Mandalorian guards still standing near. Movement made you glance back in time to see he had shrugged out of his thick robe. Din settled the heavy article on your shoulders and you were surprised by the warmth it encased you in. “Comfortable?”

You nodded with a small smile. The robe smelled like him. Din captured your face in his gloved hands and you gazed up at him in awe. Din was in a good mood. It had been so long since you saw him like this. Light hearted. Excited. “Are you happy?” The question fell from your lips before you could even think.

“Of course.” Din replied quickly. His tone suggested he was surprised you’d ask. “I have you.”

“You’ve always had me.” You mumbled.

Din’s face faltered, only for a second, before he bowed his head to rest on yours. Forehead to forehead. “Ni ceta.” He breathed the apology out sincerely. “I know things have been hard and…you’ve put up with so much. I’m so thankful for you, cyar’ika, and my greatest regret will always be making you question that.”

“I never questioned it.” You lifted a hand to place on top of his own. “I love you, and I know you love me. I’ve just…been worried about you, baby. I want you to be happy.”

“I am.” Din replied. “You make me happy.” He closed the space to press his lips to yours. Tender. Loving. Passionate. Din’s tongue traced the curve of your lower lip and you allowed him to deepen the kiss. Your hands shifted to tangle in his hair. Din pulled you closer, flush against his body, and it didn’t even matter to you that two other Mandalorians stood off to the side as witness to this scene. Din pulled back, separating the two of you, but he quickly set two more chaste kisses against your lips as if he couldn't bear the thought of being apart. Din whispered a promise under his breath. “For the rest of my life, I will make you happy. I’ll keep you safe.”

You had endured the hell of watching Din suffer and begin to lose himself in sorrow. Perhaps, this was the light at the end of the tunnel. Din had found stable ground, and he was now returning to a man you recognized.

Din turned away to push open the doors, but he kept your arm looped through his. The courtyard which typically sat unused and in a semi state of shambles had been cleaned and polished. Mandalorians as far as you could see stood waiting and as Din walked you down the path you spotted a medium sized platform, nearly a stage, and on it was a chair⏤ no, a throne. That was the only word to describe the heavy, dark metal seat. Standing on the platform, you recognized Bo Katan. She stood on one side of the throne. On the other side stood two others that you recognized, you had seen them with Din often, but you didn’t know their names.

“Din?” You whispered his name.

He shot you a smile but continued on. Suddenly, you found yourself on the platform standing beside Din as he faced the crowd. He lifted one hand, as if in greeting, and you stared at him as he spoke Mando’a. His voice was loud and firm. Powerful. This was a king among men. You never thought Din Djarin of all people would look like he belonged in this setting. You knew he had the attributes that would make a fair and just king, but Din had never enjoyed the spotlight. The future he craved, the future he painted while speaking to you in the dead of night, was a humble one. A home, some land, a family. Peaceful.

A bark of Mando’a, in a voice you vaguely recognized, interrupted Din and you watched as his shoulders stiffened. The crowd parted and a Mandalorin in dark blue armor approached. Axe Woves. That was his name you believed. You didn’t know what he was saying, but you could feel the tension in the air.

Din set his hand on your waist and pushed you back. You only stumbled back a few steps before Bo Katan took you by the elbow and dragged you back further.

“What⏤ What is going on?” You asked.

“Challenge.” Bo Katan said. Din drew the darksaber from his belt and as it came to life you felt your own heart plummet. It’s poison was spewing in the air⏤ suffocating you. Smug. Arrogant. Angry. Insulted. You sucked in a sharp breath. “Axe Woves has challenged Din for the darksaber. For rule.”

The fight started in a clash of weaponry. 

It was a blur of beskar, but all your eyes could focus on was the arc of the darksaber. The burning glow that was now seared into your eyes. Seared into your brain. You wanted nothing more than to take that damned thing and throw it into the darkest pit you could find. Every time you watched Din used it, you hated it all the more. The fight did not last long.

Axe Woves was a good fighter, but he was not Din Djarin.

Soon, the air was silent as Din held the edge of the darksaber just under Axe’s jaw. Close enough that the man had to have felt the heat. Axe was breathing hard, but you couldn’t see his face⏤ his back was to you. Din stood where you could see his face and he looked to be the picture of calm. 

“Cetar.” Din demanded. Bo Katan whispered, her eyes not leaving the scene, as she translated the Mando’a. ‘Kneel’. Din asked him to kneel. You felt a chill run up your spine and it wasn’t from the cold air. The darksaber was singing. Excited. Eager. It craved and craved and craved. Din repeated the command. “Cetar.”

“Nayc.” Axe replied. You didn’t need that word translated. 

At the sound of his refusal, you watched a flash of an emotion you didn’t immediately recognize in Din’s eyes. However, it was clear to see the way his lips briefly curled up into a smirk. You opened your mouth to scream, but all your words caught in your throat. Thick, heavy, and unwilling to be heard. Before you could overcome your hindrance, Din shoved the darksaber through Axe’s chest with not even a singular hiccup of hesitation. Your mouth hung open in shock and disbelief, but the horror didn’t land until Din leaned in and used his vibroblade to slice through the man’s neck in one swift motion. Blood sprayed out and the darksaber was screaming in pleasure.

“He had to make an example.” Bo Katan whispered. “It’s unfortunate, but Woves brought this upon himself.”

Din deactivated the saber and set it back onto his belt. While Axe Woves’ body slumped to the ground, Din tucked the still bloody vibroblade back into his boot’s holster. You stared at him wide eyed and horrified as Din marched back to the platform. He spoke before the crowd again, but it felt like your ears were ringing. The man you fell in love with would never have cut a man down in cold blood. The duel had been over. It didn’t have to end with blood. 

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Din as he crossed the platform to sit on the throne. His legs were spread out in dominance as he lounged in the seat radiating confidence and pride. His eyes snapped to yours and Din held his hand out to you. Bo Katan gave you a small nudge and you stumbled toward the throne with hesitant steps. Din’s cold features melted away as he stared up at you as he always did, loving, but it only made the splattering of blood on his face that much more daunting. 

When you placed your hand in his, your fingers were trembling. Din squeezed your hand in comfort and he carefully pulled you back so you sat in his seat. Bo Katan was addressing the crowd and you stared and stared at Axe Woves’ dead body. Still laying on the courtyard’s ground, the pool of blood around him growing larger and larger.

You felt Din’s breath on your neck. His hands settled on your hips as he sat up to press his chest against your back. His breath was replaced with his lips. Din mumbled about how much he loved you and how important you were to him against your skin. All this time, all the hope you had, was for naught. The man at your back was a stranger.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Din pressed another hot kiss to the back of your neck. "But I just wanted to show you our new throne, my queen. Surprise."

As it turned out, the light at the end of the tunnel had turned out to be just more hellfire.

In the dead of night, you ran. 

You had hoped Din would return to his senses, become the man he once was, on his own accord. You hoped he had only needed time, but this had been proof. You were out of your depth. Din needed more than just time, he needed more than just you. As soon as you got past the thick, stormy atmosphere on Mandalore, you’d call for help. 

The plan had been to take Din’s ship. It was the only one you were familiar with the controls enough to not have to worry about running into any issues. As it turned out, flying was not going to be the biggest problem you faced.

“Cyar’ika.”

Your blood ran cold. Slowly, nervously, you turned around to see Din stood not far away. His shoulders were slumped in disappointment, and the look in his eyes could only be described as absolute and total devastation. He took one step forward and you took one back. Din’s jaw locked.

“Din…”

“What are you doing?” Din murmured. 

You shook your head. “Listen to me⏤”

“Listen??” Din scoffed. He took in a shuddering breath. “How could you⏤ Cyar’ika, I… Why?”

His voice cracked and you felt your heart ache in your chest. Din took another step toward you and you held a hand up which brought him to a sudden halt. You pressed your lips together then tried to explain that you were doing this for him. “Din, you’re not…you’re not yourself. You need help.”

“I need you.” Din replied firmly. “Everything is fine.”

“You murdered a man in cold blood today.”

“Is that what you⏤ You truly think so little of me?” Din asked. “It was a duel, cyar’ika. A challenge on my rule. I had no choice.”

You took a step toward him. “Din, you slaughtered him. And you enjoyed it.”

Din’s eyes darkened and the energy that slammed into you was possessive. For so long, you assumed that was how the darksaber felt. However, seeing the way he stared at you now, you realized the possession went much further than how the saber felt for him. He stormed forward and on pure instinct your hand drew your lightsaber without activating it. A warning. His steps stuttered. You didn’t know it was possible to visually see a person’s heart break, but you were witness to it right now.

“Cyar’ika,” Din whispered, “I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”

That was true for the man you fell in love with. 

Was it still true?

“I��I…” You struggled to find your words.

Din held his hands out, palms up, in surrender. He took slow steps toward you as if you were a skittish animal he was trying to calm. The tenderness in Din’s gaze cracked your resolve. He reached out and let his hands slowly drag down your arms until they reached your hands. You felt your body tremble. It was easy to make the decision to run when you stared at Din’s features covered in blood, but now? His warm, brown eyes reminded you of every soft touch and tender word of love. 

“Just come back with me.” Din whispered. “Talk to me, cyar’ika. I know…I know things haven’t been right.” He squeezed your hands and pushed the one holding the lightsaber back to your hip. “Let me fix this. Let me make this right. Give me a chance.”

Din leaned forward to set his forehead against yours. A familiar motion that brought you comfort. You let out a soft sigh. One more night. You could spend it talking with Din, gauging a better plan, and it wasn’t like you would be able to leave right now anyways. Not with him right in front of you like this. The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just going to let you walk away and the absolute last thing you wanted to do was fight him. 

“Please?” Din pleased.

“Okay.” You murmured. 

The bright smile of relief that crossed his face made your heart flutter. Din pulled you into a tight hug and he clung to you like a lifeline. This would be alright. This would be okay. You’d make sure of it. Din slipped his hand into yours and carefully tugged you alongside him. The entire walk back to your bedroom was silent. Din’s thumb traced patterns against your skin.

“I love you.” Din said the moment you were back in your shared room together. His words came out as a desperate ache. “I’m sorry…”

“No, Din, I…I love you. I will always love you.” You replied. “I was leaving to help you.” Din’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I just think you’ve lost sight of your path.” You pressed your lips together then settled your hands on his chest. “I think we should leave Mandalore. Not forever, just⏤ I think we should visit Boba or Karga. Peli? Or… Or maybe we can reach out to Skywalker. Try to visit Grogu.”

Din’s eyes widened at the suggestion. 

He wrapped his hands around your wrists then lifted your hands so he could press a soft kiss against one palm then the other. Din nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow. I’ll be better, cyar’ika.” You gave him a small smile and he leaned in to crash his lips against yours. The way his lips moved against yours made you feel like he was trying to physically beg you to stay with him. Din had never been a man of many words, he’d whisper kind sentiments, but he always showed how much he cared by action. “I love you.” Din’s mouth dropped to your neck as his hands began to tear at your clothes. “You are everything to me.”

 Your hands reached out to unlatch Din’s armor. It was muscle memory for you. How many times had you done this exact same action in the dark during your time with him? Too many to count. His besker fell to the ground and the second he was bare of any armor, Din scooped you up and carried you to bed.

In the morning everything would be okay.

You’d make it so.

A familiar hand caressing the side of your face is what you woke to. You forced your eyes open, groggy, to find that Din was sitting on the side of the bed leaning over you. He wore his armor once more. Din leaned down and pressed a feather light kiss to your forehead.

“Ni ceta, cyar’ika.”

“Din?” You questioned.

“I want you to know that everything I do is because I love you.” Din said. “I’ve lost everything, but you.” He cradled the side of your face. “Even this, accepting the title and responsibility of Mandalor, I did with you in mind.”

There was a tone in his voice that was making you nervous. Slowly, you sat up and shook your head, “Din, I never asked you to do that.”

“I know.” He replied. “But this is how I protect you.”

“Din⏤”

“There is nothing in this galaxy that will harm you while I’m around.” Din said firmly. He stood up off the bed and gave you a tight nod. “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you. This won’t last forever, I swear it. But I can’t leave anything to chance. Not when you mean so much to me.”

Din began to walk toward the bedroom door to leave and you stared at him in confusion. Quickly, before he could leave, you threw the blankets off your body and jumped out of bed. There was a heaviness around your left ankle, a coldness, and with every movement came a rattling. You glanced down to see a shiny, silver chain locked around your ankle. It trailed to the wall beside your bed.

“Din.” You breathed. He stopped but said nothing. “Din?” He turned around with sad eyes. Panicked, you began to rush toward him, but a few feet away from him the chain caught your ankle and you nearly fell to the floor. Warm hands caught you by the arms and pulled your back to your feet. Teary eyed, you shook your head. “What have you done?”

“It’s temporary.” Din repeated himself. “Just until I know you won’t hurt yourself by leaving.”

“Hurt myself⏤ Din, I⏤”

“Cyar’ika, I'm doing this for you. To protect you.” Din gave you a tight lipped smile of regret. “Or until I can make you understand.” Din leaned his forehead against yours. The soft action you loved ruined by his words. “You are mine, cyar’ika. You are mine, and I am yours.” That look of possession was in his eyes again. “And because you are mine, I have to take care of you. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

Din was beginning to step back so you quickly cupped his face between your hands. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be. As softly as you could manage, trying to bite back the fear and panic in your voice, you mumbled. “Din, baby, you’re losing yourself. I love you, but you’re losing yourself and it’s breaking my heart. Let me go. Let me help you.”

He turned his head and gently kissed the inside of your palm.

“Maybe I am.” Din murmured. “But if that’s the cost of keeping you, then it’s one I will happily pay.”

Din left without another word and you crumpled to the ground in tears. You mourned for the man you lost and cursed the man who took his place.

mando'a translations

ni ceta: i'm sorry cyar'ika: darling, sweetheart cetar: kneel nayc: no

[bylightofdawn]

Pick My Next Fanfic

[EDIT] I don't know what I was thinking tossing a CodyWan prompt in there, of course it's gonna sweep. -facepalms- So I'm gonna commit to writing that AND the runner up option so if one of those interests you, pick that one. LOL I should have seen that coming to be honest. Pfffft.

In honor of my having finished Seeds for the Future, I'm setting up a poll and I'm letting people fic my next fanfic.

BobaLuke- Set before ANH, an undercover Boba seeks out Luke, hoping to glean some information about Bigg's whereabouts courtesy of a juicy Imperial bounty that was placed on the rogue pilot. He takes Luke to be a naive, harmless farm boy hick, but Luke isn't nearly as guileless as he appears at first glance.

Cody/Obi-Wan - Prequel to It Only Knocks Twice. Pretty much covers my AU version of TCW. Lots of pining and people being silly.

Cody + Quin/Possible Cody/Quinlan- Sequel to A Fragile World Between Sharp Teeth Cody realizes Quinlan Vos is still alive and is heavily involved with the Jedi Path, so he seeks him out in hopes of connecting it to Rex's underground network of rescuing clones from the Empire. There may or may not be an emotional hook-up between two men broken by loss and desperately trying to cling to their humanity by seeking comfort from one another. Gallatin/Cahir- Shameless smut, comparison of scars, and trading tales about how they got them. Set in the Tomorrow May Be Too Late AU as I mainly want to write Gallatin topping from the bottom because I don't think I've seen a single bottom Gallatin fic, and that needs to be rectified immediately.

Mace/Fox - What do a tired, overworked Corrie Guard Commander and the equally tired and overworked Master of the Order have in common? A surprising lot, they discover as a curious friendship blossoms between them based around sass, too much bad caf and bitching about their coworkers and maybe in the process, they accidentally save the Galaxy.

Wedge/Luke - A 5+1 or the five times Wedge and Luke nearly kiss and the one time they do. Set throughout the original trilogy. So much pining and boys being silly about their feelings. I mainly want to write a 5+1 fic which I've never done before.

The poll is set for 1 week; feel free to reblog; obviously, the more eyes that see this, the more spicy the results may be.

[thedaughersofferrix]

A New Purpose (Chapter One: Beskar, Blood & Babies)

(work is not nsfw, but this blog is generally intended to be 18+)

synopsis: you’re an ex-rebel fighter struggling to adjust to no longer fighting against the empire and instead having to build from it’s ashes. to combat the overwhelming sense that you need to do something, you've dedicated yourself to wiping out the imperial remnants that still cling to the underside of the new republic. that changes when you meet a socially inept mandalorian and his adorable baby, who are running from imperial remnants.

tldr: an ex-rebel, a mandalorian and force-sensitive baby walk into a bar and nobody else walks out.

pairing: din djarin x fem! reader

content warnings: blood, injury, canon typical violence, slow burn, like really slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, potentially smut in the future, reader has personality/backstory, little to no use of y/n, not-so-thinly-veiled anti fascism

word count: 3.1k

a/n: i have plans for this being a series but we’ll see. takes place after s2 but has nothing from mandalorian s3 and changes stuff from the book of boba fett. essentially a rewrite of the story. also din still has the razor crest bc no way two human sized people are fitting into that starfighter comfortably

prev. next.

-

The day you first met the Mandalorian is a memory scorched into your brain.

It was the same day you awoke to the taste of iron thick in your mouth and a Klaxon blaring in your head.

You were disorientated, grappling to readjust your eyes to the light as your body communicates to your mind the pain you were experiencing. Blood, dark and dried, stained the side of your face. Memories flooded your thumping head; you saw images of how you got yourself here.

Ah, that’s right. You were trying to suffocate the last sparks of the fascist, tyrannical regime that previously had total control of the galaxy.

The Imperial remnants were a blight to the New Republic and it felt like you were one of the only people acknowledging this.

The world had come a long way from where you’d been a few years ago, but the longer you sat through the changed world, the more it felt like the same shit in a different pile. They just didn’t know how to progress from being the underdogs. When you’ve been fighting against something for so long, it’s hard to finally pick up the pieces and start building things again.

Bluntly, the New Republic was in disarray. The Rebellion cut the Empire into millions of tiny pieces. Some of them were crushed by the weight of the New Republic, and others were buried in the ground and grew in the shadow of the New Republic’s struggle. It didn’t take long for you to decide things needed to be dealt with, quickly. And it was, well, easy. Fighting against Imps always was. It felt right and every move they made just felt like justification for fighting even harder.

But you’d gotten too cocky. You realised that after waking up in an Imperial cell.

The cells of the Imperial remnants are no different to the cells of the Empire themself. You’d know, because now you’ve been in both of them. They are desolate, bleak and empty. You just barely have what you need to survive, cramped less than a foot from where you lay. Slowly, and with great protest from your aching body, you sat up.

Pain in your head and the trail of dry blood on your face reminded you of the force at which that security droid had struck you. Numbness in your lower left abdomen meant you’d likely received a blaster shot to this area. One that had been poorly tended to, so that you’d still be just about clinging to life the next day so that information could be… extracted from you.

For a few seconds, you let yourself rest. Your limbs received five glorious seconds of doing absolutely nothing. How long had been since you’d been able to have those five seconds? Maybe you never had them at all actually. The five seconds did nothing for the throbbing pain in your head, however. A klaxon loudly declaring there was a problem prevented that.

But your five seconds of rest ended and you staggered to your feet despite the discomfort. Alright. Time to escape.

Once you’d been told that you were naively hopeful, that you needed to learn when the odds weren’t in your favour. Fucking ridiculous. That’s what hope is; perseverance in the face of unlikely odds. And things were shaping up to be quite unlikely.

You patted yourself down and cursed under your breath. Of course, they would strip you of everything on your person, even the beaded bracelet worn on your left hand. No point in dwelling on what you don’t have. It’ll be in your hands again soon. Quickly, you stumbled to the bars of your cell, you craned your neck to get a perspective on your surroundings. Yep, typical Imp-style prison block. Child’s play, frankly. See, there’s a trick to Imperial locks. Most prison locks.

The mechanism is made to only be opened remotely, inputting a command into a terminal. As such, the lock itself is not made to be opened physically, by force or by a keycard. The creator for that reason added a thin gap to prevent the mechanism from overheating. All you need to do is slot something thin and metallic into the crevice and it pops open like a chest in the hands of a greedy spacer.

You removed your right boot and pulled off the sole, shaking it roughly until a data disk clattered onto the ground. After reassembling your boot and slipping it back on, you snatched the data disk and moved to the cell door. Before slipping it into the thin gap, you took a glance from one side of the hall to another.

No guards, not even other prisoners. Whatever had gotten them so riled up must have been a real doozy. Now was not the time to question good luck.

The clunk of the lock coming undone sounded and you slipped the data disk into the top of your boot. After taking another careful glance to make sure this wasn’t some cruel trick, you slipped out.

With quick, careful steps you made your way down the hallway, stopping to try to discern the sound of something other than that fucking klaxon. You slipped from hallway to hallway, around the corner after corner and there was no one. Your mind flicked through the potential threats that could dignify such an all-hands-on-deck response.

And suddenly you heard it— hard, heavy footsteps and the clanking of something metallic. It didn’t sound like a stormtrooper; they were all plastoid chaffing against their body gloves. Great, so it was probably someone of a high enough ranking to wear something more durable.

You were unarmed and at disadvantage from a practical standpoint. Though, a lack of weapons had rarely if ever stopped you in the past. Even in your afflicted state, you were confident you could take down this Imp in what you pressured would be all-black with a fluttering cape.

You pressed against the wall and slowed your breathing to become as unnoticeable as possible. Then, you tackled them.

Easier said than done you realised fast. They were well-built and broad and their armour was definitely not an Imperial issue. Still, with the surprise, you managed to knock them off their feet.

A low grunt escaped them as they hit the ground ass-first. Immediately, you grappled for their weapon. Unluckily, your hand made contact with the blaster at the same moment theirs did. You still had the advantage, though, the mental preparation for combat— so you just fucking yanked it. The blaster fell into your hand and you brandished at their head, aim trained and hands steady and— wait.

That armour, that steel. Beskar. A Mandalorian? 

The Mandalorian takes advantage of your pause and kicks one of your legs out, sending you and the stolen blaster in your hand toppling to the floor.

You hit the ground and you hit it hard. You were winded on impact and no doubt aggravated your already painful injuries. The Mandalorian scrambled for his blaster and you found your voice again as he picks it up.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you croaked as he aimed his blaster at you. “I didn’t- I thought you were an Imp.”

“I’m not,” comes his enlightening response.

“Clearly,” you muttered, shifting to sit up. The blaster’s sight is trained between your eyes. “Where are the cells?” he demanded. At first, you don’t respond, your hand resting over your abdomen to support the weakened part of your body.

“I said—” he stepped closer, voice now dangerously low, “—Where are the cells?”

“Hey buddy, I’m not exactly in tip-top shape at the moment, if you want information out of me you need to give it a minute.” The beskar helmet covered his face completely, not even a cursory glance at the visor gave you an inkling of emotion. You had to assume he was annoyed with you. “I don’t have time for this—” he dismissed, fingers moving to pull the trigger.

“I’ll bring you to the damn cells!” you shouted. His finger froze.

“You know where they are?”

“Just escaped from one.”

He gestured for you to move. “Show me. Now.”

-

The walk, or rather hobble, back to the cell block you escaped from was less than pleasant.

You were in desperate need of a stim, bacta spray or even a sip of med nog, anything to quell the hurt plaguing your body. The Mandalorian didn’t seem to care as he was silent while watching you limp along the hallways, hand on the wall to steady yourself. He did not comment on your heavy breathing, visible injuries or shaking legs. Evidently, he didn’t give a shit.

“Here,” you breathed as you turned the final corner. “This is it.” He breezed past you and inspected the cells. His body language was tense as he came across empty cell after empty cell.

“These can’t be all the cells,” he insisted. “Where are the others?”

“Look, these are the cells they put their prisoners in. Unless you want to go to the maximum security—”

“Take me there.”

You blinked at him. “Are you a moron? Who knows how many troopers they have standing guard down there? Go yourself.”

“I don’t know where it is, you do. So take me there or die here.”

Honestly, you considered just letting him kill you then and there. But you were in an Imperial prison and you’d sooner live, suffer and potentially take one of them down with you than die quickly and never get to teach them a lesson. You sighed and it came out as a shaky exhale. “You really know how to charm a girl, huh?” you muttered, turning yourself around and beginning your trek. He watched you quietly.

“C’mon now, don’t ask me to bring you somewhere than sit with your foot up your ass when I try to lead you there.” He scoffed under the mask and it came out raspy and harsh thanks to the helmet. Your body was getting used to the ache invading your sense and walking became somewhat easier at that point. The silent trip to the elevators was a little bit more manageable that way.

When finally inside the small steel box leading you to what you could only assume would be your death, you pulled your shirt up to have a look at your wound. Your skin was scorched and irritated. The lack of feeling told you some nerves had been damaged and you weren’t excited to imagine how your muscles and bones beneath the charred skin were faring. The Mandalorian’s head turned in your direction, just enough to catch sight of the injury. He stared for a few seconds and then turned back to the door.

“Can you give me a blaster?” That had him turn his head back to you pretty quickly.

“No.”

“What? I’m bringing you down to the most protected level of an Imperial prison and I can’t even have a weapon to defend myself?”

He goes quiet, like might be considering it. Then he says simply, “No.”

“Alright then, you better fucking protect me or else good luck getting back out of this place.”

“I got in, I think I’ll get out just fine.”

You snort. “If you got in, they know how you got in. And they’re expecting you to go back out the same way. If you don’t want to die, you’re not going to let me die.”

Before he can rebuke you, the elevator doors open and a shot is fired directly between the two of you. 

You throw yourself to the side, hiding behind what little cover the walls provide and the Mandalorian does the same. Of course, they knew. They were waiting for you. Well, for the Mandalorian more likely, but if he died, you’d follow soon after.

“You wanna give me a blaster now?” you yelled at him. He didn’t respond, simply pulling the blaster from its holster and readying himself. He swung out from the cover and fired precise shots directly at the heads and chests of the troopers. The blaster fire that did hit him simply rebounded off his beskar. It takes only a few seconds for him to clear the five or six troopers who were standing ready.

“No, I don’t want to give you a blaster now.” You scoffed. Cocky bastard.

“The maximum security cells aren’t far, but we’re going to be meeting some resistance.”

“I can handle it,” he asserted. You nearly laughed.

But he certainly handled it. The second a stormtrooper was within range, they were shot down. He barely flinched each time a shot collided with his beskar. And he did, admittedly, keep you safe. Well, he was sort of protecting you by killing them.

“These doors,” you told him. “They’re locked with MLC-50 Magnolocks.”

“Can you slice them?”

“If I wasn’t half-dead. I don’t have the energy for it,” you admitted, slumping against the wall. "Do it now,” he commanded. You gave him a sharp look. “You’re fucking lucky I got you this far, Buckethead. Don’t make me regret it any more than I already do.”

“I need you to open the lock,” he said, sounding more… desperate. “Please,” he added, for good measure. You shake your head and he made a noise of annoyance as he turned away.

“Hey wait!” you began as you finally got a good look at his weapons. “Is that- Is that a beskar spear?” The Mandalorian turns back around. “...Why?”

“If it’s beskar you could probably break the locks open with it.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you wanted my help. Use the spear, open the lock, no slicing needed.” He pulled the spear out and considered the lock for a moment. He looked between the two.

“You try to open it with your mind? Fucking hell just stab it!”

In one swift motion, he rammed the spear into the magnalock and electricity crackled wildly, before the door slid open. “Told you,” you said, grinning. He didn’t even spare you a glance, just walked right into the cell. He looked around, turned swiftly on his heel, and moved to the next door. He repeated the action until the second last door, at which he stopped.

The sound of footsteps filled your ears. “Hey, tough guy,” you called. He didn’t reply. You shifted back onto your feet and began stumbling over to him. “Tough guy!”

“I think he’s in here,” is all he told you. “Well that’s great, get him out quick, we’re not going to be alone for long.” Still, the Mandalorian didn’t move. 

“Maker above, move!” You looked behind you as the sound of footsteps became increasingly loud. Rushed and heavy, definitely stormtroopers. “Why are you hesitating?!”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, which floored you for a moment. And then you heard the sound of a muffled voice escaping through a mask filter. He might be hesitating, but you wouldn’t be. You snatched his blaster from his holster and he panicked, reaching to grab you until you fired a shot at the stormtrooper rounding the corner. “Open the door!” you ordered. This time, he listened.

The beskar spear punctured the lock and the door slid open. You nearly missed the tiny squeal of delight that came from the other side as you fired off at the stormtroopers approaching. Your arms struggled to keep the weight of the blaster as steady as you’d normally have it, but it was enough to fire killing blows. "Hurry up!” you barked at him.

The Mandalorian steps out, clutching… a baby. A small, green and admittedly quite adorable, baby. You’re not sure what you were expecting but… yeah. It wasn’t that. You realised your strength was failing you, you tossed him the blaster, which he somehow caught. The final few troopers went down smoothly.

“Fuck,” you hissed, laying back on the ground. “You’re gonna… You need to help me move.”

“You-”

“Please!” you cut in. “Just help me and I’ll get you and the baby thing out, I promise. Just… please.”

Maybe he took pity on you or he just knew he didn’t have any other option, but he resigned to offering you an arm. You essentially climbed up him until your weight was resting uncomfortably on his shoulder. “Tell me where to go.”

You instructed him as you battled for consciousness, all the while the baby looked at you with its massive eyes and tilted its head cutely in confusion. 

“Here, here. That panel,” you told him. The was still a small gap where you’d pried it off with your multi-tool and— fuck. You don’t have your gear. There’s a moment wherein you consider making him go get your things for you. Just a moment, though, because your head is thumping, your side is numb and somehow your bones are aching and right now you need to pass out.

It’s a bit of a manoeuvre to slip out through the way you came in and most of it spent weakly crawling behind a thick wall of beskar and muscle, but you made it. The Mandalorian hauled you onto his ship. That was nice. You expected him to sit you down outside the base and let you die there. He prioritised the baby, setting him down in his floating cot before grabbing at your arms.

“Tell me a place,” he commanded.

“What?” you rasped. “A place, tell me the name of a place, and I’ll bring you there.”

“I don’t…” You had to blink hard to not submit to unconsciousness. “Just, listen for a second, okay?” He went quiet. He looked back at the Imperial base, then back at you. He nodded. “Him—” you carelessly gestured in the general direction of the baby, “—the Empire want him, yeah?”

“What are you—”

“Listen! They’re trying to get him, am I right?” The Mandalorian nodded again.

“I know them, I can avoid them, keep him safe— keep both of you safe. You just give me some gear, get me away from here and I’ll do it.”

You rendered him speechless with that.

“We’ll talk more about it tomorrow or something, but right now, you need to give me something so I don’t die.”

“Tomorrow?” he parroted.

“Yeah, I’m not available for negotiations right now,” you informed him, with half a smile. He didn't seem amused by your attempt at levity. “Okay,” you sighed. “I’m going to pass out now.”

“You're going to what?”

And then darkness clouded your vision and you slipped out of consciousness.

NEXT CHAPTER.

[bobathirstaccount]

Inspo from @die-herzlos-engel - I will always throw out the idea of Boba being with a rebel reader who understand he has no real allegiance to the Empire but is always trying to get him to join the cause 👌🏻 but they don’t have the doe $$$.

***

Priceless

Boba x implied fem!reader, a bit of angst, some action, no smut, dash of fluff

Words - 3,369

***

Boba shook his head, annoyed. “That’s not my going rate, and you know it.”

You wheedled, “I could add in sexual favors…”

Boba snorted a laugh, “Very tempting. But still no.”

Frustrated, you let the topic drop. You turned back to your drink. He tried to improve your mood, “C’mon, let’s go cheat at sabacc with those Imperials. We can take them for all they’ve got.”

Wryly smiling, you shook your head. You had to find a merc with a ship, and if Boba wouldn’t do it then you still had a big problem. You fiddled with your glass.

“Don’t fret,” Boba elbowed you gently, affectionately. It was his form of PDA. You decided to let it cheer you up. Scooting slightly closer to him, you lowered your voice in the loud cantina, “You wanna… spend the night?” This request was a calculated risk. You were sort of together. Sort of. You didn’t think he was seeing anyone else, but he was often like talking to a wall in regards to relationships and things of that nature.

“Hmm,” he started noncommittally, his helmet tilting. Your face fell before you could control it. You glanced away, disappointed.

“I mean, yeah. Okay.” He toed your foot, causing you to look back at him.

“Okay,” he repeated.

A smile formed on your face. Suddenly the noise and color of the bar was boring. “Let’s go?”

He nodded once, shifting his weight off the bar top. You turned and strode out of the bar, Boba trailing casually behind you.

When you had walked a few blocks, he sidled up to you. “No one’s following us,” he commented softly. You smiled. He was ever alert.

You allowed yourself to glance over at him. He was watching the crowd as you walked. You longed to grab his upper arm and lean on him, but decided against it. He remained oblivious.

You reached your apartment and took the dingy elevator up. It creaked to a stop on your floor. Stepping out, you made your way to your door. Feeling safe, you keyed in the code to your unit without hesitation.

“You should be more cautious,” Boba’s voice held a tone of concern.

“I am when you’re not with me,” you commented, stripping off your jacket. You heard Boba set his gun down on your coffee table. His other weapons clattered as he added them. It was your rule that all weapons had to be deposited there safely. His helmet stayed on. You had yet to see what he looked like under it.

“Well,” he started. You turned to him, your jacket on its hook.

“Well… now what?” You teased.

He sauntered up to you, his hands going to your hips. Butterflies danced in your stomach as he found the hem of your shirt and pulled it up.

Tossing it aside, he grabbed your ass and yanked you to himself.

“Now… I’m gonna fuck you,” Boba said, voice low and husky with lust.

***

You knew he was gone before you had even opened your eyes. Your bed was small, and he was not pressed up against your back. You sniffled a bit, but didn’t cry. He never stayed long in the morning. You sighed and opened your eyes, sitting up. Missing him, you sent him a short message about nothing.

Setting your data pad aside, you got up to shower and eat.

Washing your face in the fresher, you remembered your most pressing problem. You had to find a merc with a ship. You decided to reach out to your ex, who was a second class merc. Maybe he knew of someone better than himself. It was worth a shot.

***

“Look, I am here professionally only,” you tried to clarify again.

“Sure, sure, baby. Let’s get it right: you missed me.” Julius sat back in his seat, smugly folding his arms across his chest.

You sighed, aggravated. You had known this was going to happen; you just hadn’t thought it was going to get to you that much. “No. I just wanna know if you’ve got any contacts I could get in touch with about a ship.”

“Not until you admit you wanted to see me in person. We coulda just commed, but you agreed to see me pretty quick.”

You got hot, embarrassed. Had you? “Well, at any rate, do you have any contacts for me?”

“No. But that’s not why we’re really here.”

Annoyed, you silently stood and grabbed your jacket. You had wasted enough time. Turning from the table, you decided to go hang out at your regular cantina. Boba might be there.

“You tired of being Fett’s side piece yet?” The casual tone caught you just as you were about to be out of earshot.

Your anger flared up immediately. “What’d you say you karking asshole?” You stomped back up to Julius. He seemed momentarily alarmed, then satisfied. “You know everybody knows that, right? You’re his lil’ over eager fuck piece?”

Enraged, you flipped his drink into his face. He sputtered, but laughed, “You’re only so mad because you know I’m right!” You slapped him as hard as you could, then realized you had to retreat. You were about to cry. Turning away from Julius, you stomped out past the other patrons to the street outside. It was drizzling a bit. Pulling your hood up, you sniffled as you slowly made your way to your regular spot.

***

You slunk up to the bar, behind Boba. Several gorgeous Twi’leks had circled around him. You tried to overhear their conversation.

“C’mon,” one of them reached out and grabbed him by the neck. She leaned in and kissed his helmet. “Don’t you wanna have a foursome with us, daddy?”

Boba pulled away from her, “No.”

The girls cooed and whined to him, rubbing his chest and arms. You held your breath, waiting to see how he would react to such a tempting offer. He turned to you abruptly.

“Did you really think you snuck up on me?”

You blinked, surprised, staring into his helmet. He repeated himself.

Blinking again, you sputtered, “N-no.” You were feeling sensitive from Julius’ comments. Boba’s helmet tilted very slightly. He seemed to be studying you.

“You okay?” He said after a moment. He brushed a Twi’lek hand off his chest.

You felt exposed, but tried to shield yourself, “Yeah, just it’s wet out. You know I hate rain.” He nodded, but didn’t sound convinced, “Okay, well, you want a drink?”

Not knowing what else to do, you nodded seriously. He raised a hand. The droid barkeep was there immediately. “Sir?”

“What she wants,” Boba nodded at you, brushing another hand off his chest.

“Just some Corellian ale, please,” you murmured. The droid shot off to fulfill your order.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Boba took half a step towards you. The Twi’lek followed him, still cooing about a foursome.

“Kark off,” you hissed at them, suddenly furious.

“Ooh, who the fuck are you anyway?” One of them spat back. Boba turned to her, “Go away. Can’t you see we’re having a private conversation?”

She frowned, “Okay daddy, but we’ll be back…” The women fell away into the crowd.

“Who the fuck am I, anyway?” You asked, looking into his helmet.

The barkeep dropped your ale off. You waited for Boba to respond.

“Uh,” he started unpromisingly. “You, we’re, uhm, friends.”

“Friends?” You asked softly.

“Yeah?” He asked back.

Julius’ words rang in your ears. You chugged half your drink to avoid crying in public... In front of Boba. He started to speak, “Don’t be upset-“

You couldn’t bear to hear a bumbling response, so you simply turned from him and bolted into the crowd, towards the door. You pulled your hood up snugly again once you were outside. Crying a bit, you turned towards home. You hurried along, wanting to be safe at home.

After a couple blocks, someone came up beside you. Warily, you looked over. It was Boba. Surprised, you blurted out, “What’re you doing here?”

“We’re uh, still talking,” he said simply.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I have someone for you. For your… job.” He spoke swiftly.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so I’ll DM you the details. I’ve worked with them before. They’re a pretty good smuggler.” You were relieved about that situation, but confused and sad about the non-conversation at the bar. Boba sidled up closer to you. “So.”

“So?”

“So, now you can relax about your… Rebellious streak.” He seemed pleased with himself.

You were thinking about you ex’s words. “Hm.”

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong yet?” He elbowed you gently.

“I don’t want to be your side piece.”

“What?” He seemed stunned.

“I don’t wanna be a side piece.”

“You’re… not.”

“What am I?”

“Ah. I mean do we need to label what we’re doing?”

“Yes.”

He became quiet. You walked together in silence. Finally you reached your door. You keyed in the code and it slid open noisily. You turned to Boba, “Well?”

“Can I come in?”

“You don’t have anything to say?”

“…I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Yeah you do, you just don’t wanna say it.” You were tired. You were angry. You were hurt.

He stood there stupidly.

You turned away from him and let the door skid shut behind you.

***

NAME - EM Wrex

SHIP - Salvage Hauler

RATE - I negotiated 30k credits for you, you’re welcome

CONTACT - 92.768.098876 (she’s expecting your comm)

R u going to the cantina tonight?

You sighed and set down your data pad. You had spent all of last night crying into your pillow. Missing Boba. Wishing you had just let him in.

But now you didn’t want to talk to him. You got up to have some breakfast.

Over your coffee, you commed your Rebellion commander.

“Well this is all great news. You have our smuggler with a day to spare, and at 3/4 budget. I’ll send you the funds. Pay half before, half upon completion. Everything else going okay? How’s your cover holding?”

“Perfect,” you commented absentmindedly.

“Hm, I don’t like your tone. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Oh, just my… boyfriend,” you lied.

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. Well, stay focused on the mission for now, kiddo.”

You nodded, “You got it. I know what to do.”

With that, you said your salutations and ended the call. Sighing, you sat back into your sofa. After a moment, you commed your smuggler.

It rang for a moment before an attractive human woman picked up. “Oh, you must be my contact for The Job,” she said immediately.

You nodded, taken aback a bit.

“Fett said you’d be in touch soon. So, the rate’s 30,000 credits. Half up front, okay?”

“Yeah that’s fine, just DM me your payment details and I’ll take care of it today.”

“Yeah no problem. Hey, so what we smuggling?”

You smiled wryly. Boba hadn’t even told her what she was smuggling?

“You didn’t ask?” You evaded.

“Oh, I’d do anything for him, you know how he is babe,” she shrugged.

Immediately incensed, you tried to control your tone, “Oh, yeah, totally… so, how long you known him?”

“Oh, awhile, now… how about you?”

“Same,” you murmured.

“Yeah, he’s so funny, he’ll pull up outta nowhere on you.”

“Oh yeah I know, huh,” you said weakly.

“Anyway, see you at the hangar… I’ll send those deets along with the payment info.”

You nodded and hung up. Sighing, you got up to shower. You decided to try to surprise Boba at the cantina.

***

You watched as Boba let the woman slide her hand up his arm. She was looking at him intently, like he was the only other entity at the establishment. They spoke for a few more moments before she took another step into his space. His helmet tilted, but he didn’t push her away.

They talked some more. You decided you had seen enough. You stood to exit, finally catching Boba’s eye. He straightened immediately. You turned away and calmly exited the cantina, resigned.

You made it a couple blocks before someone was at your side. You had been daydreaming about Boba, not really paying attention. You were gently elbowed.

You stopped in your tracks, turning towards Boba. He stopped short. After a moment of awkward quiet, he asked, “You and my contact hook up?”

“Did you and your contact hook up?” You shot back.

“Not recently…” he muttered. Your eyes got big before you started to cry.

“Wait, I mean not since I’ve known you…” he tried.

You cried harder.

“That woman and I, nothing was going to happen. I came there to see you. I was just killing time waiting for you.”

You kept crying.

“Look, I… we… um,” he stumbled.

You smacked his helmet, hard, as you screamed, “Go back and kill some more time!” You ran off sobbing. He didn’t follow you.

***

Elize, as it turned out her name was, picked you up promptly at 0700. You were to meet up with the Rebel ship at 1145 exactly to pick up the cargo, a Rebel spy who’d been exposed. He’d managed to get smuggled this far; all you had to do was take him a bit further back to the Rebellion headquarters.

“So, how long you been in the smuggling business? Fett told me you’ve been a bootlegger for a while, but was really vague other than that. You know him.” She laughed.

“Oh,” you quickly pulled up your cover story in your mind, “Been at it for just about 5 cycles. It’s an exciting biz, moving other people’s stolen goods.”

Elize laughed again. “I like you.”

You forced a smile.

“Okay, here we go, jump space for five minutes and then we just slow poke it the rest of the way to avoid detection, got it?”

“Yeah.” You settled back into your seat. You were entering heavily guarded Imperial space. It was going to be a tense ride.

***

You could tell things were going south. Your passenger had been successfully picked up, but you were detected on the way back. The Imperial Cruiser hovered near you in space as Elize tried to talk her way out of getting tractor beamed.

“Just gun it,” your cargo insisted from behind you. You shushed him as she bullshitted.

“They’re gonna take us. That’s death for me and death for you two for helping me. Now, gun. It.”

You slapped him in the mouth, “Stop panicking and let the women handle it.”

Elize continued to talk out of her ass.

Ultimately, it was to no avail. “We’re requesting you to come in. Go to cargo bay 127 for inspection and processing. Should only be a couple hours before you’re back on your way, if you’re who you say you are.”

“Okay, sure,” Elize sounded amiable enough. But you could tell she had started the computer calculating light speed coordinates.

She inched her hauler forward casually. Picking up a bit of speed she headed towards the entrance. Your cargo became a problem again. You turned to shush him as the ship dipped and made a break for it.

You thought for half a second you were going to be clear. But the tractor beam grabbed you, abruptly halting your escape. The Imperial ship pulled you into its maw.

***

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you denied everything to the Interrogator.

“Well you were on a ship harboring a fugitive. So you know something,” she insisted. You thought of Elize and wondered how she was fairing. You knew your fugitive was probably doing terribly.

“Do we need to bring in an Interrogator droid?”

You doubled down, “It’ll be a waste of resources. I don’t know anything.”

“Well I’m ordering the droid anyway,” she said with casual finality. She stood and left you chained to the table.

You sat there, trying not to panic. You didn’t have advanced training to withstand this sort of… pressure. Would you fold? Were you going to die?

After an indeterminable amount of time, the door slid open. A stormtrooper walked in. He came over and undid your binders. “This way,” he said, turning. You followed him out of the room and down a long corridor, past many other troopers. You walked into a hangar. Elize’s ship was there, locked down. You noticed another ship across the way. Could it really be?

You squinted as you quickly approached. It was. Boba’s ship. Would you see him? Would he see you? More importantly, would he help you? The trooper stopped short at Slave 1’s ramp. “Onboard,” he indicated. You trotted up into the ship, following the trooper. He closed the cargo bay door behind you. Before you could say anything, he had disappeared into the ship. Confused, you stood stock still and considered your limited options.

A familiar dented helmet appeared from around a corner. Shocked, you felt your mouth fall open. He sauntered up to you, “You didn’t think I’d let you get into any real trouble, hm?”

“Were you the stormtrooper?” You asked incredulously.

He laughed, “Of course.”

“So…” you looked around, “where’s Elize?”

“Oh, she’s in big trouble. I can’t help her. But you, you made it easy.” He nudged you, “You gave a fake name. Easy to make you disappear. Easy to loop the security cameras, so it looks like I’ve been on my ship the whole time, just refueling. And now, we’re gonna take off and get outta here. Easy.”

“You did that for me?”

“Of course.” He was matter-of-fact.

“…why?” Your voice was small.

Boba’s helmet tilted towards you. “I love you.” He turned away from your stunned form and disappeared into his ship, “I’m getting us out of here. Come sit in the cockpit with me.”

Too shocked to speak, you silently strapped in next to him. He brought his ship to life and took you out of the cruiser, just like that. Once he was a casual distance away, he entered jump space.

You turned to each other. “Home?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, please,” you paused for a second, then asked, “how’d you know I was in trouble?”

“I heard that Elize’s ship was taken captive by the Imperials. I’m welcome to come and go, so I just parked and walked in and got you.”

You laughed, astonished. “That takes some balls.”

“Well I’m me. And, it was you.”

You shook your head, “I failed my mission.”

Boba shrugged, “But you’re okay. You live free to rebel another day.”

“Won’t you join me? You could do so much good. See how easy all this is for you?”

“I told you, if you get the credits I’m there.”

You snorted, annoyed. But then you remembered what he had said in the cargo bay. “Do you really love me or are you just talking out of your ass?”

He stiffened, “I do. Let’s not dwell on it.”

“Dwell on it? We’ve barely talked at all!”

He shrugged, then took your hand. Interlocking your fingers with his, he murmured, “I fell for a Rebel, what can I say.”

“You could say you love me more often.”

He sighed, “I’ll try.”

You crawled into his lap, where you stayed for the rest of the way home.

***

You woke up. Exhausted from your harrowing experience, you debated going back to sleep. Then you realized you were not alone. A strong arm was around your torso, holding you tightly. Delirious, you wriggled around to see what was happening. Boba’s sleepy voice sounded, “What’s wrong?”

“Huh?” You asked, surprised. He was still here, and it was light outside.

“What yah mean huh? You’re the one waking me up…”

“You’re still here; you’re never here,” you blurted out.

“I know. I thought… you would like it.”

“I do…” you rolled over and planted a kiss on his helmet.

His hands haltingly went to his head. He pulled his helmet off. You kissed his lips. They were soft and warm. He pulled you on top of himself. You looked at each other.

Smiling shyly, you mumbled, “Love you.”

Boba blinked, but responded, “I love you.”

You laid your head on his shoulder and brought a hand to his cheek. “Getting you for the Cause is too expensive, but having you is priceless,” you murmured.

He laughed, his chest heaving. “You’re what’s priceless.”

You snuggled into him and fell back to sleep.

**

Ch 2

[galacticwildfire]

Found.

Twenty Six

Pairing: Kenobi!oc x Din Djarin, former Kenobi!oc x Boba Fett.

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/tags: Trigger warnings for flashbacks: choking, intimate partner violence, explicit consent given but mentions of painful sex and dubcon, mentions of abortion/miscarriage. For the rest of the story: angst and more angst, a little bit of fluff and non-explicit sad smut at the end but mostly angst and violence. Discussions about domestic violence and overall violent and toxic relationships, depictions of ptsd and mentions of torture. It's an emotionally heavy chapter.

Content Warning: This chapter may be confronting for those who have experienced domestic violence. STRICTLY 18+ FOR MATURE THEMES.

Word Count: 9.5k

A/N: Her relationship with Boba has been one of the most interesting ones I've written, and I want to return to the prequel to flesh it out more and I will give him another pov sometime soon as well. It's certainly the darkest relationships I've written, the definition of enemies and lovers. Also as an apology for not updating for like six months it's nearly 10k.

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I feel Din gently pulling wet hair out of my face as one part of me shuts down and another awakens. Compartmentalisation I'd called it during the war, but in truth it was shutting down the part of me that was raised by a Jedi in favour of something far more violent. I can almost hear my father pleading with me. 

"Kyra, cyar'ika," Din says, trying to bring me back to him by jumping straight into a plan of action. "Solo's coming here to help, now you're awake we'll go to Navarro and-"

"Excuse me," I say quietly in a voice I don't quite recognise, needing to end this and get the truth before we can even think about anything else. "I have some business to take care of."

"Kyra, no," I immediately hear Lando say in recognition of whatever look must be in my eyes but I'm stumbling out of the room and blindly marching down the hallway, disassociation turning to something else with primal rage consuming me body, mind and soul the moment I lay eyes on him and then everything comes rushing back.

"Ah, you're alive," Boba says, standing there without his helmet despite already knowing how this ends.

"You betrayed me," I say numbly before I bodyslam him into the wall with a knife in hand only for him to push me into the opposite one, wrestling the blade from my hand and restraining my wrists to the wall, finding myself jarringly weak after the impact but not that weak.

"Listen here princess-"

"No!" My knee comes up hard between his legs, him having neglected to put on that piece of armour, the shock of the attack leaves me able to break his grip and strike him across the face. My hand reaches for the nearest thing next to me which happens to be a decorative lamp, smashing it over his head before grasping a shard in my hand and bringing it into his neck as I pin him to the wall. "You fucking listen to me!"

"Kyra-" he hisses as I press the edge of the glass into his neck with a shaking hand, hard enough to draw blood. "I had nothing to do with it!"

Even as blood runs down my hand it still does not feel real. "And I'm supposed to believe that?"

"Yes," I hear a voice say and look to see Din of all people with his hands out trying to calm me. "I know you don't remember what happened, I know you want him dead and if you want to kill him then kill him, but he didn't take the child. He got us off the planet and away from the Empire."

"Listen to your boyfriend," Boba says but my mind is too far gone from whatever injuries I sustained to comprehend what I'm being told let alone believe it. "All I wanted was my armour, not this."

"All you wanted was your armour?" I repeat, fueled by madness alone as the broken pieces of my mind put a picture together no matter how ill fitting. "All you wanted was your armour and to keep us there until the Empire arrived?"

"You did that, not me-" he curses again as I dig the glass deeper. "Kyra!"

"Oh, does that hurt?" I ask him and look him in the eye as I begin to twist his mind as Vader once twisted mine. "You know nothing of pain."

"Kyra!" Lando yells once he realises what I'm doing. "Put the glass down."

"Kill him and be done with it," Din says with an edge in his voice I've never heard directed towards me as Boba yells out weakly in pain. "We need to find the child."

"Where is he?" I ask Boba, ignoring Din and Lando's attempts to intervene as I invade the walls of Boba's mind and watch him wince as I dig deeper. "Tell me."

"I don't-"

I slam him against the wall again as Han and Chewie come in running only to quickly come to a halt at seeing me with a shard of glass at Boba Fett's neck. "Where is he!"

"I didn't have anything to do with it!"

The truth does not matter to me, not anymore, not when his blood is staining my hands.

What's another drop?

"Okay," I say calmly, withdrawing my mental attacks along with the glass from his neck. Din cautiously steps closer and I look at Han and Chewie who stand there with blasters in hand and know Han has been waiting for this since the last time we all stood in this city together. "Chewie grab him."

Chewie roars as he grabs Boba who elects not to fight and Han has a blaster at his back as I drag him through the halls with my fist in his clothes, pulling him by the fabric around his throat until we reach that damned room Lando sealed off before I ever agreed to step foot in this city again. The room where I listened to Han being tortured before Vader threw me in there.

The room where my mind was broken for the last time, where Vader finished what he began after the purge. I tried to kill myself on Mandalore so it wouldn't happen, but it did. I begged Boba to kill me so Vader could never harm me again. But he didn't.

And now he can suffer the consequences.

"Kyra you are not what Vader tried to make you in that room," Lando calls from down the hall, him and Din chasing after us with blasters in hand. "Luke-"

"Isn't here," I say as I use my saber to cut open the sealed room and Chewie throws Boba inside. He and Han block the exit as I come to stand over him, Din and Lando running now in pure panic as I look at the saber in my hand with no inhibition left.

Boba looks up at me and truly realises for the first time I am not the same girl who walked into this room. I can see it in his eyes, the trauma, his father falling to the same weapon, his head rolling on the ground.

Perhaps I am cruel enough to do the same to him, but not yet. Not until he is begging me to kill him as I once begged him to do to me. Only then will he know what true pain is.

"I am going to show you exactly what happened in this room," I tell him, Han holding a hand out to stop Lando from intervening while Din stands there silent. "But first you will tell me where my child is."

"You can torture me all you want, but I didn't have a hand in this," he swears to me. "Search your feelings or whatever the fuck you Jedi do, you know I didn't."

"Kyra," Lando warns me, choosing to be the insufferable voice of reason in Luke's absence and I realise Luke had prepared him for this very situation because the words he speaks are not his own. "This isn't you. You swore you would never become what Vader wanted to make you, only the weak give in to the darkness. You don't use the force to make people suffer."

"I don't need to use the force to make him suffer," I answer and bend down in front of Boba, brandishing my saber and bringing it close to his face, ignoring my father's voice trying to break through the veil separating his ghost from this world. "I don't believe a word you say."

"I loved you," Boba says to me as if that matters now but it's enough to make something burn inside of me. "I came to you on Tatooine to protect you against the Empire, why would I fucking send them after you!"

"Because that is who you are!" I yell, knowing only one thing. He comes and my child is taken. Nothing else matters. "A traitor. To me, to Mandalore-"

"That might be true," he says, sacrificing his dignity for the sake of his life. "But I still loved you."

Four years I'd known him. Four years I'd loved him for better and for worse. From after the first Death Star was destroyed until that day at Jabba's palace. Never once had he spoke those words to be. 

"I don't have time for this," I scoff in exasperation, wielding my saber too freely for Lando's liking. "My child is gone."

"I loved you right from the start Kyra," he tells me, trying to provoke me into giving him a quick death but Jedi do not kill in anger and so I put my saber away. I will not use a Jedi's weapon to strike in anger, and so I pull free a blade instead. "But you know that."

I laugh now, shaking my head in utter disbelief at that claim. "You ruined me right from the start-"

But it's his next words that make me lose control of my emotions. "You were the one who wanted it."

"I was barely nineteen!" I scream at him, remembering it all too well. "I was a kid!"

"So tell me," I asked him during that very first fight after he'd brought me to Mandalore. "Are you the same as the bounty hunters who gave me over to the Inquisitors for some extra credits, the same as the men who stood by while a ten year old girl screamed for help?"

He was quiet and put his helmet on the table, taking a step forward toward me. "The Jedi took children screaming from their parents all the time, killed my father in front of me. They were no different from the Empire. Evil exists everywhere-"

"Oh shut up," I breathed, not taking that excuse. "You are blind if you don't see what the Empire does."

"Oh I know what the Empire does, better than you," he replied, looking me in the eye. "I never claimed to be a good man. If I'm given a job I finish it. Honour doesn't do anybody good unless they're looking to get killed."

And so I asked "Then why didn't you give me to Vader? I have the highest bounty in the galaxy."

He spoke but did not answer the question, not willing to admit he'd been deceived.

"A young woman who hides her face comes to me asking for passage to Mandalore who can pay me in beskar. I knew damn well there was only one woman in the galaxy who can pay that price," he told me, but if that was true I would have been in Vader's hands. "I was curious to see how long you would keep up the act."

"And now?"

"Now," he said and brought his hand up, his thumb running over my bottom lip. "Now I'm curious about this so-called Mand'alor."

He shook his head as if he hadn't enticed me first, a girl who was barely a woman. Han was the same age when he met Leia but he spent years fighting alongside her, loving her, before he ever touched her. He never used her, he respected her despite their fights, he would have died for her and he would have never betrayed her. 

Han loved her unconditionally through those same years I hid my affair with Boba with the understanding that Leia's devotion belonged first and foremost to the Rebellion. He loved her enough he was willing to walk away at the end of the war if it was Luke she'd loved and not him. He loved her selflessly while Boba would at every turn try to convince me to abandon all I loved for someone who could not even say those words to me. 

I'm still younger now than he was when we met, old enough to know that no man like him sees a young girl in pain and chooses to do what he did. Even now he can dare to look at me and say "And you would have thrown me out of that palace if I called you one."

I look at him now, body as deformed and horrid as his heart is. "You were the one who started this. You were a grown man who knew exactly what he was doing."

I grabbed his wrist, raising a cautious eyebrow. "You are a bold man Boba Fett."

His eyes traced my silhouette, skimming over the skin bared by the dress I'd worn just for him. "Then what does that make you?"

The corner of my lip turned upwards. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I would," he said, backing me up against the table until it pressed into my tailbone. "Because I think you and I aren't that different."

That made me let out a dangerous laugh. "If you believe that you aren't just bold, but blind."

He moved his hand down along the bare skin of my arm, my body reacted as if his touch was electric. "You can claim you're better than me, doing what you do for the greater good, except you're lying. You don't care about the greater good or honour, you do what you do because you want revenge. You kill because you like it. You have a cruel streak in you, princess. Deep down you are just as ruthless as I am."

He nudged my leg open with his knee enough that the slit of my dress opened and revealed the small knife tucked into my garter.

"You can call yourself a Jedi all you want," he told me, hand coming to brush the skin of my thigh until it reached the cold metal of the blade. "But you're a Mandalorian, you can't change that, so stop pretending you aren't."

With that he stepped away from me and I couldn't help the small gasp that left me at the absence of his touch. He didn't say another word as he reached for his helmet, putting it back on before leaving the room, as if he was never there.

"You were the instigator, not me," he argues while I'm the one shaking my head now. "You're the one that gave me a bar of beskar to smuggle you back to Mandalore, you were the one who gave me another to stay and fuck you when I tried to do the right thing and leave."

"Don't-" I warn but he is past listening.

"Call me a traitor but don't accuse me of manipulating you into anything," he says and I'm shocked by the genuine offence in his voice that I could almost call hurt. "Curse me for handing you over to Vader and all the rest, but don't pretend you didn't want it. I asked you if you would regret it before I ever touched you, so don't pretend you didn't know what you were doing."

The beskar on the table along with my offer to make him my commander was not enough to make him stay, but that days war council had proven to me the need for loyalty, even bought loyalty. 

But we both knew that wasn't the reason I wanted him to stay. He'd set something inside of me alight and I wanted more. I wanted to feel what the Jedi Order forbade, not just passion, but something deeper. 

Which is why I kissed him when he'd asked me why I wanted him to stay, a brief kiss that no doubt showcased how purely inexperienced and unfortunately desperate I was, but it got my point across.

He remained standing still with a self control that left me embarrassed by the lack of my own, that left me doubting if I had somehow misinterpreted his actions before, and suddenly he was hesitant the moment I returned what he began.

Little did I know he liked the chase and this disrupted it.

"How old are you little one?"

For a moment I debated lying but answered honestly. "Nineteen."

His eyebrows shot up and I realised he was indeed hoping for a different answer. "Nineteen?"

"I am not a child," I said quickly. How could I be a child when I had blood on my hands and the weight of a planet on my shoulders? How could I be a child when I'd given the orders not to take any prisoners when retaking territory from the Empire?

And yet I found myself having never even kissed a man until then.

"Oh I wouldn't go that far," he assured me. "I knew you were young but-"

His hesitance was enough I felt stupid for being so forward but countered "That didn't stop you before."

Little did I realise it wasn't my age he cared about, but the fact in a simple kiss I'd shown him I'd never felt a touch like his before. That despite my bloodshed I was an innocent in his eyes. The very thing he didn't want to see me as, but still there was a glimmer of interest at that prospect. A sick enjoyment following the initial hesitation, a newfound fetish for corruption. 

"That was before I saw you throw a man twice your size to the ground and realised you aren't just a spoiled princess, before I actually respected you," he said and left me speechless as well as frustrated. "Do you want me to fight for you or fuck you, because business and pleasure are two very different things."

With those simple words I found myself stammering for an answer, my eyes falling to the floor "I-" I knew what I was supposed to say, business and nothing more, but it wouldn't have been the truth. "Both." 

He tilted his head, his silence and imposing presence suddenly left me backtracking.

"I shouldn't have-" 

But I fell silent as he placed a knuckle beneath my chin and lifted it up to look him in the eye. "I never said no."

He must have felt me swallow for just a hint of a smile played at his lips, one that was no good.

"I am not a good man," he said, fingers toying at the shoulders of my flimsy dress.

"I know," I said, that fact having been horribly clear to me but did little to deter the ache I felt at his touch. "But maybe I like that."

Or maybe I believed there was more to him than that.

"I think you do," he said, watching what the mere trail of his knuckle along my skin did to me. "Do you want me to fuck you princess?"

My body flushed with heat and I opened my mouth to answer but he stopped me with a thumb over my lips.

"Think before you speak."

I swallowed hard before giving a simple answer. "Yes."

He raised a warning eyebrow as his hand came to my waist ."You won't regret this?"

I paused again before answering but the answer was the same. "No."

His other hand moved down from my chin to gently hold my throat and I had to bite back a whimper as he found my pulse point with deadly precision.

"Tell me you want it," he said, leaving no room for misinterpretation, and for the very first time I felt in control to take what I wanted. Even if I was sorely mistaken in believing I held the power in that moment as his hand tightened around my throat. An action that had my heart pounding with fear as the memories of Vader's torture prior to the Death Star's destruction came to mind, but I refused to back down. "Say it."

"I want you."

I look at him now, barely recognising his face but still remembering how it felt when I had him that first time. The pain and pleasure it brought, as well as the tears that came once I was finally alone. His hand wrapped around my throat as he split me open with little mercy, when I cried out telling me that surely the Mand'alor could handle a little pain. A degrading reminder that I ruled Mandalore and yet he had me at his mercy. A metaphor that told me I had no true power unless I took it.

 Eventually I did, the second time I had him I ensured that, but in that moment I'd never felt more vulnerable. There was no love, no affection, but any gentleness he showed in taking me was more than I'd ever felt. In time the rest came perhaps, or maybe I fooled myself into believing it was there. I'd never known any different after all. 

Not until now.

"You're right," I admit to him for the sake of my pride if nothing else. "I took what I wanted until-"

"Until you ran away," he finishes, choosing to be just as cruel. "From Mandalore, from me, all for your rebellion. You ran like you always do. Like you always will."

"Until you ruined me," I correct, trembling now with the anger I try to restrain, realising that not even my pride can come above the pain. "Until you brought me to this room."

Every fight I ever had in those early days with Bo-Katan comes to mind, every single time she warned me against trusting Boba in the name of protecting me. I'd thought she was trying to control me, even when she actually struck me when she found him in my room one night, telling me that I'd only learn the hard way if I didn't wake up and listen to her.

And she was right.

"You're the pretty little idiot who trusted a bounty hunter, seems you haven't learned your lesson yet," he says looking past me at Din. "And if you keep believing righteousness can save you you're never getting that kid back."

My words to Lando turn into a lie as his head slams back hard into the wall and Lando and Han both try to hold me back from killing him as I find one of the many hidden blades within my armour and grab him by the throat, raising the blade to drive it down into him, only for it to slip from my hand when Boba twists it violently and finally I see it in his eyes, the realisation that this time I could really kill him.

And I will.

He sees the decision in my own eyes and reaches for me as I move for the blade, throwing me back by the waist and slamming me facedown into the ground as I reach for it, only for the idiot to forget I'm a Jedi after all. It flies into my hand as I twist out of his grip and the men rush forward only to jump back as Boba's kicked across the face in his attempt to pin me down. No one, not even Din, dares to interfere as I throw him onto his back and pin him down with my knee, the bone pushing straight down into his lungs I raise the blade only for him to catch my wrist when I drive it down and the tip hovers just over his neck. I'm screaming as I try to overpower him, to finish it.

To finally bring this never ending nightmare to a close.

"Kyra!" Boba barks out as I strain against his iron grip and he says the words I never expected to hear from his mouth. "I'm sorry."

For just a moment I falter but refuse to let his words break my resolve as grief overcomes me.

"Sorry?" I repeat, feeling fear flooding the room and none of it my own. "Do you know what they did to me here?" I whisper, the blade tight in my violently shaking hand as I quake "Do you know!" Even now I can still feel it, my mind being unmade. "They put me in a mind flayer," I tell Boba and watch what little colour is left drain from his face. "And that was just the beginning."

"Lando get Leia here now!" I hear Han yelling as Boba stares up at me and for the very first time I see fear in his eyes as he truly realises what Vader made me, what he twisted me into that final time all because he wouldn't kill me. The ruin my mind became because of his weakness. Then behind that fear there is only pure remorse. "Mando will you grab her already before I do!"

Finally Din moves, forcefully pulling me off him and it's all I need to break free of Boba's iron grip. The blade cuts across his throat as my hand slips, but not deep enough to kill, and I'm fighting as Din hauls me out of that room with a strength he's never used on me before. I'm thrashing as he drags me down the hall until finally I go limp in his arms and he pries the blade from my hand as I collapse, he's all that's holding me up as something in me that's long been broken finally shatters completely.

"I-" I quake as suddenly everything becomes horribly real.

"I know," he tells me and for just a moment I feel him grasped by the same madness as he pulls me to him, the madness of having watched a child be taken. "I know cyar'ika."

He's terrified and I'm crying, the monster inside me Vader created not dead as I'd been led to believe, but merely tamed, now loose.

And yet it does not scare me anywhere near as deeply as the Empire does in this very moment.

Din holds me as Han comes and bends down in front of me, having been the one who'd stopped me from killing Mon Mothma in the same fit of rage after Mandalore. Having always seen just what I tried to hide from Luke, always the big brother I never had, or at least thought I never had.

"Leia's coming," he tells me and promises "We're going to get your kid back, whatever's out there no doubt wants your boy and mine both, we aren't letting that happen."

My throat is tight as I nod, needing to pull myself together for the kid's sake. I made a promise. I can't let my emotions get in the way of saving him. If Dad could save Leia and I from them at their height then I can save the kid from them now. 

"Her room's this way, come on," Han says to Din who helps me back to my feet, all but keeping me standing as I'm guided down the hall into a room I haven't visited in over a year but is still intact. 

He sits me down on the edge of the bed and the noise inside my head drowns out whatever words the two exchange but it ends in Din nodding his head and Han leaving, closing the door behind himself.

Din sighs as he comes over to me, there are many things he could say right now but instead he just takes me in his arms, holding me tight and cradling my head so gently the touch feels wrong while I have blood on my hands. 

"Why did you stop me?" I ask and he slowly pulls away as I ramble in confusion. "You said you'd be by my side as I took whatever vengeance I wanted so why did you stop me?"

"Because vengeance is one thing," he says, his demeanour suddenly changing. "Losing your mind is another."

"What difference does it make what state my mind is in?" I ask defensively and he slowly steps away, that simple action filling me with a fear I've never had before with him. "Din?"

"You need to rest."

His words go utterly ignored as I repeat. "Why did you stop me?"

"Because you weren't going to go through with it and we don't have time for this," he says roughly, unable to even look at me. "If you aren't up for this stay here, I'll go get the kid back."

"Excuse me?" I breathe, taken completely aback. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Rest," he says before he goes to leave. "We'll talk in the morning."

He opens the door but jumps as I use the force to slam it shut and get to my feet. "No, we won't talk in the morning, we'll talk now."

He shakes his head at me. "We aren't doing this now."

"Do what now?" I repeat, not understanding what's going on, and exclaim "Why are you acting like this?"

The words that leave his mouth next shock me "Do you still love him?"

Never before has silence been so heavy as I look at him, unable to believe the question he's asking, but he's deadly serious as I look at the blood on my hands and back to him.

"I just cut his throat and that's the question you're asking me?"

I expect him to backtrack, to clarify, to do anything but double down. "He told me love and hate are the same for you."

I scoff now, not backing down as I size up to him. "So while I was dying he chose to give some grand speech about what we were?"

His answer is short with no elaboration. "Yes."

I look at him now in utter disbelief. "Are you truly asking me if I still love him?"

His voice is thick with pain. "Do you?"

My moment of hesitation is all it takes for him to walk to the door. "Din!" He only stops when I run forward and grab his wrist to keep him from leaving. "If you think I love him why didn't you just let me kill him?"

"If I didn't stop you the others would have tried, and I was the only one wearing beskar," he answers coldly. "Besides, you were taking too long."

"Taking too long?" I repeat, my composure already long gone. "What part of that show convinced you I'm somehow still in love with him!"

"Because I knew it from the moment I met you on Tatooine," he reveals. "You were there with unfinished business after all."

"I was there to kill him," I slowly remind him.

"And would you have gone through with it?" he asks me, but he already knows the answer, and unfortunately so do I. "I knew then that no matter how much you hated him, you still loved him. I knew it all along, I just refused to believe it."

Tears fill my eyes now as I look at him, the man I love more than I ever loved Boba. "Din-"

"If you love him I won't stand in your way," he says as if he's resigned himself to that before I can even open my mouth. "If you leave I won't hate you for it."

Standing here now only one of us is prepared to leave with grace and my heart is breaking at the realisation I found the selfless love I spent my life searching for, and that I've ruined it. 

"What did he tell you?" I demand to know, except I'm nowhere near prepared for his answer.

"Nothing that wasn't true."

My chest tightens knowing every awful accusation Boba could ever hold against me, knowing there is truth in all of them. That I'm a hypocrite, that I ruin the people I love, that all I've ever done is run. That Mandalore was destroyed because of me. 

Despite those words, I love Din too much to let my bloody hands stain his own, no matter how much blood they already may be dripping in. My father would be disappointed if he lived to see what his little girl became, and my mother... she would be horrified. 

"Alright," I say, challenging him as much as myself. "If you believe whatever he told you then go."

But he doesn't.

"He told me that the first thing you would do was try to kill him, but that you wouldn't go through with it, among other things," he says and I open my mouth but find no counter argument. "But that doesn't mean I'm walking away." He leaves me stunned into silence as he removes his gloves to take my bloody hands in his own. "He told me to run, that no man escapes from you unscathed."

"It's the truth," I state, unable to hide from it now. Not with every man I've ever been with in the same cursed city. "You should run."

He just tilts his helmet down and shakes his head. "When have you ever known me to run?"

I swallow hard, finding his feelings still resolute but only find myself confused. "Then why are you-"

"Because he was wrong about one thing," he continues, looking down at our joined hands, both trembling. "I know you, and since the moment I met you on Tatooine you have been the light of my life. You and Grogu." His voice breaks slightly. "I never knew it was possible to love like this, to want to be more than a clan of two, not until you."

Tears blur my vision as I begin again "Din-"

"But it's not my heart in question," he says and at those words I'm slowly pulling away, not knowing how I can make him see what he refuses to. "Kyra."

"I love you Din, you know that," I say, and he gives a slight tilt of his helmet at my attempted deflections. "Nothing else matters."

"It does matter," he insists, gravel in his voice and for the first time asks for information, not out safety, but for his own assurance. "How long were you with him?"

"Four years," I answer stiffly, having downplayed it in our previous conversations but I can hardly do that now. "On and off from after the destruction of the first Death Star to just before the destruction of the second."

There's silence before he says "You were pregnant with his child?"

I find myself blinking away tears, feeling the tip of Boba's blaster pressing into my stomach the night Jabba gave me to him on Tatooine. The night he confronted me over the supposed crime he selfishly believed I'd committed against him. Knowing if I'd been given a choice in the matter the result would have been the same I let him believe it was my choice to end the pregnancy instead of the nightmare I'd lived. It was the first time I thought he might actually kill me. I wanted him to, but he still couldn't do it. 

But for a moment... 

I look at Din now, realising this doubt is coming from somewhere. That more was said while I was unconscious than I can begin to theorise, but I have inklings. Although I know only one man would have told him the truth whilst still respecting my name.

"Lando told you what he saw didn't he?" I ask, vaguely remembering Lando having been with Leia when she found me in that cell. Lando tried to mention it once and only once to me after we'd begun sleeping together, he never tried again.

Din gives a single nod. "He told me you kept saying that you didn't know."

I was raised to hold my mother's moderate beliefs in contrast to those held by Mandalorians such as Din and realise neither of us have spoken about such sensitive matters. Neither did Boba and I but it seems he's made his thoughts on it hypocritically clear despite the blood on his hands. Although I suppose the blood of innocents would only begin to matter to him when it's own. 

However, I sense only pain from Din rather than judgement. My memories of what happened at the seeing stone and up to now blurred, but the memories of that final night with Boba when I discovered he knew... those are crystal clear. I'd told Din bits and pieces when it was important, but not the worst of them. 

"In Boba's grand speech did he ever tell you about that night at Jabba's palace?" I ask him. He gives no answer but there's enough recognition that something must have been mentioned. "Let me guess, I was sadistic nymphomaniac who decided to sleep with him one last time after trying to kill him because I was so sickeningly in love with him?" 

He still doesn't speak, I'd almost forgotten how silent he could be, but still I continue. 

"Jabba stripped me down and put me in chains before giving me to Boba as a reward." I find myself hesitating, telling him what I could never bring myself to ever willingly recall let alone speak of. I'd told Din Boba let me scream and beat him until I grew weak, but it wasn't the whole truth. "He put a blaster to my stomach and told me I'd robbed him of his chance to be a good man and a father. I was half convinced he was going to kill me, I wanted him to kill me, so I let him believe whatever hurt him the most as he choked me until I could barely breathe, but the coward still couldn't go through with it."

I'd reached for his blaster only for him to grab me, chained and almost naked, and the pure hate in his voice was worse than anything he could do to me as he pinned my wrists to the wall. "You took my chance to be a good man from me, to be a father-"

Tears burned in my eyes and I realised the greatest cruelty I could inflict upon him was to let him believe whatever Vader told him and I stopped fighting then as I looked him in the eye. "And I would do it again."

He held me by the throat and I watched seething as he dragged his blaster along my exposed body, the same blaster he'd used countless times to do such degrading things to me, and I didn't look away as he pressed it into my stomach.

He was deadly silent, finger over the trigger as I searched his cold eyes and felt the things he never learned to hide from a person like me. But something in them drove fear into my heart, the same obsessive hate that had consumed me for so long... it had consumed him as well.

"I know you Boba Fett," I told him, I might have been the only person in the galaxy who did, which is why I knew that even if he couldn't kill me he'd just as easily make me wish for death. "I know you love me." 

His hand around my throat was a familiar feeling, a hold of dominance but never of pain. Never until then. Finally his fist closed around my throat but I hardly blinked as he held it tight to the point I strained for air, but not enough to bring me to the brink of unconsciousness. The cold metal of the blaster dug further into my lower stomach but I refused to remove either hand as my airways closed beneath his grip. As I searched his eyes I knew he still couldn't bring himself  to stoop so low to have the woman he loves dead at his own hand, and somehow that made it worse. "Don't be a coward now, you could choke me to death and still would never come close to inflicting the pain Vader did."

"You were my target," he told me, digging the knife deeper with his words since he couldn't bring himself to do it physically. "From the moment you returned to the rebellion. You were my target when I dug you out of the rubble on Mandalore, every night together was all to get the information I was paid to bring to Vader, but you knew that didn't you?" I didn't give him an answer, I couldn't even give myself one as he tapped his blaster against my cheek as finally panic began to take over with every breath I struggled to take. "And you let me do it because you loved me."

I could have used the force to pull the trigger, to end this as I begged him to do half a year before. For my blood to be on his hands, the blood of the woman he loved. I would haunt him for the rest of his life as I knew he would haunt me for the rest of mine. It would have been cruelly poetic, but I was too bitter to die before seeing the end of the empire.

"How?" I finally asked him as I searched his heart and mind, finding such strong love twisted with darkness, finding the same in mine own heart and that darkness was what I could not forgive. The darkness that corrupted me came not from Vader, but from the man I loved. "How could you do this to someone you love?"

"This was never love," he told me, seeing what I couldn't but his heart- he could not hide it from me, not from a Jedi and I reached for his hand around my neck, my mind as sick as his when I believed it to be a loving touch. 

"Liar," I breathed, smiling at the hate in his eyes, his lips hovering just above mine. "If it wasn't we would have killed each other a hundred times over by now."

He shook his head, and for the first time I saw remorse in his eyes. "You're insane."

"I'm only what you made me," I'd said, my mind still in pieces from the mindflayer and Vader's torture. Not even the medications that Leia shoved down my throat could even begin to repair the connections in my brain that had been destroyed. "This is what you wanted isn't it?"

He finally released me and stepped away before taking his cloak and wrapping it around my shoulders as he told me "All I ever wanted was to make you strong, to help you lead Mandalore into a new age." His hand was gentle on my face, barely able to comprehend the depth of what had been done to tear my mind apart. "You're a broken woman Kyra. A shell of the Mand'alor who'd liberated Mandalore from the Empire."

"Yes," I said, anger replacing the grief at what had been taken from me. "I am."

I feel Din's hand on my face now, his touch just as gentle, just as concerned, and his voice turns to something dangerous. "You told me he never laid a hand on you." 

"He never truly hurt me that way," I still insist, the kinder memories I'd blocked out resurfacing. "He could never bring himself to do it."

"You just said he choked you," Din states, leaving no room for me to try to excuse it as anything else. "You'd said he wasn't that type of man."

My throat's tight as I try to rationalise "He wanted to make me strong, to teach me to fight back. He always thought I was weak, certainly too weak to rule Mandalore, and he was right."

"Kyra," Din immediately begins to argue and I raise a hand to quieten him. 

"You never even knew other Mandalorians existed, you can't speak to my competency as a ruler," I mean to state factually, but the bite is there, the unintended insult to him and his creed. 

"You're right," he throws back curtly as he removes his hand from my cheek, voice thick with frustration. "It seems all I've done is learn how little I know."

And again I find myself wondering what the hell Boba said to him to leave him like this. Boba is the one person who has seen the absolute worst of me so there is no limit to the truth's he can use against me. But, the worst of me is only a fraction of the worst of him. If I told Din everything Boba had done he would be going to kill him without a second thought. If I asked him to I know he would, and yet the thought pains me. 

"Alright then," I say, seeing as we have enough time to air whatever this is out before Leia arrives for us to formulate a plan and decide to spit it all out if Din truly believes what he does. "What do you want to know Din? Because if you think I have any warmth left in my heart for that man how about I tell you how the first time I'd ever kissed a man was mere minutes before he wrapped his hand around my throat and fucked me while telling me the Mand'alor could handle a little pain when I cried out?"

Din's head snaps back towards me and I certainly have his attention, along with a cold, violent, anger that I've rarely felt from him, remnants of the man he was before Grogu. 

 "But as you heard him say, I wanted it, or at least I thought I did until it ended and realised I was never in control," I continue, knowing he's likely heard some reiteration of me being a heartless sex addict from Boba's recollections. "Or how about I tell you about when I decided to take a battalion of Mandalorians to fight for the Rebellion and my second in command shot him because she thought he was going to kill me for being a 'stupid fucking little girl who would make her mothers mistakes.' Although unfortunately not fatally." Even now I remember Sabine's face when she walked into my office at the wrong moment and saw him grab me by the throat as he spat that along with other insults in my face. "Or how about when Darth Vader even showed disgust for the way his brother's daughter had been treated despite torturing me at that very same moment." That holds the greatest irony in my mind even now. "If I were to tell you everything that had transpired over those years that brought me to the scene you just witnessed we'd be here for days."

"And you still love him?" Din says, not an accusation as before, but now of statement of pure concern and just like that I'm seeing those final days in my relationship with Lando beginning to unfold again when I thought that would never happen with Din.

And so I finally confess the truth I've refused to accept. "Maybe when I met you I still loved him." I force myself to be brutally honest because that is what I owe him. "Maybe I still do." 

I could stop there, I could be merciful and let him believe that I love Boba more than I could ever love him. When I walked away from Lando it was the cold hard truth that I loved Boba more than anything we'd built, but that isn't true for Din. He and everything we've built is worth more to me than whatever sick attachment I forged with Boba in those painful years. Din showed me what love is meant to be, what it can be, and I refuse to let that go. 

"For each time he betrayed me he's also saved me, even now as much as I hate it, and you're right, I never could bring myself to kill him as much as I want to. I never thought I could ever love anyone like that again, and I won't and I'd never want to," I tell him, feeling the blood sticking to my hands as I take his in mine once again. "Because I never knew I could love anyone how I love you."

Still he refuses to believe it, that he is the one I love truly and I anticipate his words. "Then why act like-"

"Because he brought the Empire to us!" I exclaim in pure exasperation. "For every crime he can be acquitted of he's guilty of a thousand others and I know he had a part in this!"

He sighs deeply and grits out "You aren't thinking clearly in this state of mind."

"And what state of mind would that be?"

He pauses at the challenge in my voice and hesitates before reluctantly answering "You're hysterical."

"Hysterical?" I repeat, having heard my mother been called that a thousand times and snatch my hands away. "Of course I'm hysterical, the kid is gone! I'm surprised you're not hysterical, maybe if you were you'd understand-"

"Understand what?" he argues. "Our child is taken and the first thing you do upon waking up, upon seeing my face, is to go chase him down-"

"I wake up after getting hit by a fucking missile, not knowing where I am or what's happened and I still don't!" I yell, pleading for him to understand. "The kid is gone and he's there, that's all I need for my head to tell me he was responsible so call me hysterical for torturing him to find where they've taken him!"

"We don't have time for this!" he yells, raising his voice more than he ever has towards me and the rawness of his voice quickly reels me back in and he immediately lowers it to a desperate plea. "We need to find him." 

"Leia is on her way and when she comes I'll use her resources to locate Gideon," I promise him, trying to put my emotions aside to think clearly, to diffuse this before it escalates further. "She heads the defence council, she has access to intel we don't. I'm close to another General who had a son with a Jedi. Gideon's targeting force sensitive for his experiments, her and Leia both have sons with those abilities and they won't let Gideon live long enough to touch theirs."

That seems to calm him enough and he asks "How long-"

"Twelve hours, she should arrive tomorrow morning," I estimate, knowing Leia will come as soon as possible and that Din works best with parameters. "I have the resources to find him, but in the meantime-" Against my better judgement I reach for his hands again, knowing we cannot find Grogu if we're at each other's throats like this, forcing myself to put aside my own frustration and pain and to try to compose myself. "I know I'm out of my mind right now okay but I love you and I need you to trust me so we can get through this," I whisper but he doesn't say anything, nor does he move away, and I'm too out of it to read him so I just plead "Please Din."

He looks down at our hands, squeezing mine tight and I hear the tears in the shaky breath he takes before saying " "I- I thought you were dead Kyra, I- do you think I wasn't begging you to wake up the entire flight here? Do you think I wasn't scared out of my mind for the first time since I lost my parents?" My throat tightens and I look down with cold tears wetting my cheeks. "I thought my entire world had been destroyed in a second, I- I felt like I was losing my mind with very second that passed when I didn't know if you'd live or die."

"Din," I whisper, aching to take him in my arms but something keeps me frozen in place knowing that I'm the source of his pain. Something I've never wanted to be. 

"I know I've been harsh and I'm sorry, I just-" he's quiet for a moment, treating carefully. "The mind flayer," he quakes, having held me through the nightmares that have come of that. "You never told me."

"I spent five years putting my mind back together," I say hoarsely, for a short while having thought I had if such a thing is possible. "It seems I still have some work to do."

"I know you're in pain, and I love you- more than almost anything," he says, his voice as gentle as he can make it with the fear pounding through our chests. "Which means one of us has to keep it together for the sake of the kid and if you aren't up to this I'll find him myself."

"You're right," I quickly agree, forcing myself to bring myself back from that edge, to be better than this. To be more than the mess I was years ago and think strategy. "You're right and I'm sorry and when Leia gets here we will use her contacts to find out where Gideon is." 

"Thank you," he says, and we could leave it there, but it feels as if I let go of his hand and watch him walk out that door I'll never be able to salvage this and so while choking on tears I can't fight back I make one final plea to him. "You can believe me or not when I say I love you, but I will not walk away from the child I've sworn to protect. Our child."

"Kyra," he says quietly, voice filled with pain.

 "I need you to trust me when I tell you that I'm in love with you," I breathe through the tears. "That I will do whatever it takes to get him back."

"I trust you," he tells me but still it does little to ease his heart. If I was calmer, if I had my composure I'd leave it there for the sake of peace but I can't and so I take his helmet in between my hands. "Cyar'ika"

I don't go to remove it, but I need him to look at me as I tell him in no uncertain words "If you think I love Boba Fett more than you then I will go kill him without hesitation, or if you want to do it yourself you can go ahead and do it. I won't stop you."

"I might be a bounty hunter," he begins. "I might want to tear him apart after the things he'd said and done, but I wouldn't hurt anyone you loved."

I blink through the tears, because it wasn't love, I can see that now.

"And Din Djarin that is why I will always love you more than I ever loved him. Love and hate were always the same to me but not anymore. You taught me it's not." He pulls me in closer now as I bare my heart to him. "I never planned to fall in love with you Din, I tried not to but I couldn't stop it." I bring his forehead down to mine as I tell him "When they- when they put me through that mindflayer it scrambled all the wires in my head to make me believe this could never be possible, but it is. You showed me that and I made a choice not just to love you, but to choose you over fear, over anything else so please believe me when I tell you you are the only person I want, the only person I need, and if you let me I will choose you every day for the rest of our lives."

He gently pulls my hands away from his helmet and I shut my eyes in pain, only to hear it being placed aside and feel his lips on my forehead as he holds me to him. "I believe you." Tears spill down my cheeks and he tells me "Open your eyes cyar'ika."

I do, and this time I look upon him how I should have before and again find tears in his beautiful dark eyes, equal pain and adoration etched across the handsome and worn face of a hardworking man who possesses a rare heart. Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye I hold his face, looking into those brown eyes as I tell him in no uncertain words "I love you Din Djarin and I swear to you that we will take our son back and when we do we will say our vows to him and adopt him, and then we will say our vows to each other."

His emotions are written so clearly across his face, having never learned or had need to control them, and yet I can't help but gasp as his lips meet mine. It's a mixture of pure pain and desperation, of love and the fear of loss. Everything a Jedi should never feel.

But as we slowly remove the beskar from one another nothing else matters to me, not when I'm safe in the hands of the man who has never wronged me, who would sooner cut his hand off before laying it on me or betraying me. The man I trust completely, love completely. 

As I search his eyes I know with no doubts that he shares that love just as deeply, and he tells me so as he lays me down and takes me in his arms. Making love as if that could heal our pain, but our fight has only just begun. 

And I know as Din captures my lips and grasps my bloody hand in his that he will be by my side as we unleash hell upon Moff Gideon and in whatever may come.

[chrislaplante]

🖊 — any tattoos?

🧶 — any non-writing hobbies/interests?

📺 — favorite movie(s) and/or tv show(s)?

🤔 — what genre(s)/theme(s) do you struggle to write the most?

💯 — share three random facts about yourself that your mutuals may not know about you.

⟩ any tattoos? nope. plenty of ideas, tho. problem is, with this kind of thing i'm indecisive as hell - and, get easily bored of looking at something/the same thing for a long time (my hair is proof of this, i recently chopped it all off). but anyway, been thinking of finally getting around some of those ideas i've had for over a decade.

⟩ any non-writing hobbies/interests? traditional art. i.e., sketching, drawing, yadda yadda yadda. i'm currently struggling with making the transition into digital art... i'd say music, too, but, i haven't touched my guitar in ages.

⟩ favorite movie(s) and/or tv show(s)? ok so, bc of the 9 movies meme you sent me, i'll name different ones on here. the lost boys, beetlejuice, edward scissorhands, donnie darko, into the wild, split, first blood (rambo), school of rock, the sixth sense, the terminator, the sword in the stone, bambi, dumbo, alice in wonderland, the land before time, awake, rosemary's baby, psycho, the exorcism of emily rose, brainscan, i am not a serial killer, the craft, foxfire, jeepers creepers, secret window, candyman, sinister, insidious, the texas chainsaw massacre (remake), salem's lot (remake), rose red, gus van sant's last days, my soul to take, carrie, primal fear, misery, veronica, hannibal rising, the silence of the lambs, serial mom, natural born killers, death proof, kill bill (1 & 2), constantine, hell fest, the addams family (both 90s flicks), hard candy, the cabinet of dr caligari, twisted nerve, paranormal activity, the blair witch project, the watcher, empire records, behind the mask (leslie vernon), twister, scream (franchise), pet sematary (1 & 2), child's play (franchise), friday the 13th (franchise), a nightmare on elm street (franchise), halloween (franchise), and gone girl. shows. sons of anarchy, tales from the crypt, criminal minds, dexter, the mandalorian, obi wan kenobi, book of boba fett, andor, hannibal, ahs (first two seasons), bates motel, freakylinks, the x-files, sabrina the teenage witch, ranma 1/2, sailor moon, fullmetal alchemist, death note, renegade, highlander, 21 jumpstreet, bob's burgers, the simpsons, south park, catfish, hoarders, intervention, true life, the crow: stairway to heaven, ghost hunters, ghost adventures, seinfeld, friends, the glory, the girl from nowhere, dinosaurs, the toys that made us, the movies that made us, ju-on: origins, the end of the f**king world, being human (uk), six feet under, buzzfeed unsolved, the exorcist, etc. as you can see, i've too many.

⟩ what genre(s)/theme(s) do you struggle to write the most? smut. lol

⟩ share three random facts about yourself that your mutuals may not know about you. hm. i've a congenital heart condition and have had three open heart surgeries for it. english is my second language so, the occasional grammatical error will occur (in? on? english is stupid). aaaaand, true crime hits a lil too close to home (long story, maybe another time lol).

[rexxdjarin]

What are your favorite fics of yours? Greatest hits, underrated gems, doesn’t matter to me. What are you most proud of?

Ahhhh hi bby🥹💙 so I’m gonna do my best to answer each of these.

My greatest hits are:

Captain’s Log - my main fic that started it all. It’s got everything, passionate love (and smut, a LOT of smut), dealing with war trauma, rebellion and freedom fighting etc. it’s the story of my oc: Mari, writing from a reader pov, and her love story with Rex as they survive in the galaxy post order 66. It was my first fic and the fic I will always come back to.

Unwritten - the prequel to captains log but written from my oc: Mari’s actual POV about how her and Rex first met and fell in love over the entirety of the clone wars era. It’s political, it’s coming of age, it’s got clone friendships, political ally ship and lots and lots of smut hahaha. The love between these two develops here and I could talk about this fic for 4000 years.

My underrated gems are:

Afflictions - my empire era boba fett smut one shot. I love this piece. It’s toxic and messy and all the things I’d imagine asshole Boba Fett would really be like during this time.

A Twisted Fantasy - my commander wolffe fantasizing smut fic. It’s more recent but it’s so filthy and secretly soft and so so wolffe to me. I love going back and rereading this bc I can picture him so clearly in it.

Out of Our Element - a commander wolffe fic that’s happening during the event of captains log and with my twi’lek oc: zeeta. it’s smutty, switchy, so much back and forth sexual tension between two expert seductive people with Wolffe’s signature secret longing yearning underneath it all. I love this piece so much and it’s one of the things I’m most proud of. And my twi’lek oc: zeeta art was inspired by this.

But honestly the fic im most proud of by far is:

No Shame - it’s commander Wolffe x reader and I love this piece so much. I think it’s probably the best smut I’ve ever written AND the best I’ve ever written a reader character. She is a self-conscious, self-destructive, very anxious reader and it’s a very different reader character than I usually write but I absolutely LOVE how I wrote her dynamic with wolffe and how he acts to protect her vulnerability in this. It’s just so good I literally can’t believe I wrote it.

I love all the things I’ve worked on. I have hundreds of thots, one off asks I’ve answered etc in my masterlist in my bio. If you love reading these, I promise you’ll like the less involved stuff too. 🥰💙

[lovelessdagger]

Starlight - Chapter Thirty-One: The Devil Rings His Bell

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC, Din Djarin x OFC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Smut

Warnings: Explicit Language. Horror.. Angst. Suicidal Ideation. Gore. Light Medical Horror. Nonconsensual nonsexual touching. Panic Attacks. PTSD. Everything goes to hell.

Words: 13k

Summary : “There was a point to this, there should’ve been anyways.”

A/N: This chapter is A LOT. I usually advise to read with caution but specifically here

Starlight Masterlist Here

Read Chapter Thirty Here

Read on AO3 Here

Objectively, this isn’t what Senior Officer Horix Kelis signed up for when he joined the Imperial Academy some twenty years ago. Stalking through thick branches with dying embers while being drowned from above. Oxygen tubes connecting from the boxy filter on his back to the front of his helmet does little to mitigate the fumes.

The mission briefing was short, conducted from whatever pseudo base was constructed on whatever Outer Rim scumhole that was chosen for the moment. It’s pointless to keep track of locations anymore, setting up only to relocate hardly a month after. Just another worthless planet filled with worthless natives who hadn’t the decency to learn Basic. Who dressed in animal hide and painted their faces with ash.

He heard his superiors talk the day before, bitterly recalling the memory. Moff Gideon and the Thirteenth Sister specifically requested the second best team. Being chosen was no honor.

It started off as twenty men packed into a cargo hold like a can of Naboo sardines. His personal team consisted of five, they crowded over a glitchy hologram. Prerecorded messaging allowed no questions.

“Your mission is to acquire one asset.” Gideon couldn’t be assed to give the report himself, and Horix assumed this Inquisitor was no better. The voice was the same as other report requests, some female lead on Gideon’s cruiser. “Target is female, estimated height 163, an estimated 25 to 28 years of age. Black hair, grey eyes, brown skin.”

A matching hologram appeared before them, a blue tinted figure.  One of his men, Coltin—someone who never had much respect for hierarchy and basic rules—leaned over to him. “I’d fuck her,” he said.

“You’d fuck your sister if she offered,” Netru, his second in command snorts at his other side.

He works with idiots, running his hand over his pale face.

“—accompanied by Mandalorian, Din Djarin.” Another hologram, the man from the rumors of Nevarro. “Master Assassin, Fennec Shand—”

“Ain’t she dead?” Furge muttered.

“—Bounty Hunter, Boba Fett—”

“Isn’t he dead?” Horix found himself saying.

“And an alien.” Ugly, but not the most threatening way to end. “Moff Gideon orders that under no circumstance are the Mandalorian and Child to be harmed. The asset is to be obtained unharmed. Lethal methods are strictly forbidden. Intelligence suggest active harm of any kind will result in your own termination. If captured, Officer Kelis is to inform Moff Gideon via coded signal immediately.”

The cylinder stick pokes from his belt, a single red button protruding from the top. His hand covers it when the others look.

“The asset is invaluable Imperial property, it must be kept in prime condition,” she says. The word strikes them all in different ways. Property. Like the clones who taught them how to shoot blasters as children, or the cards for sabbacc they could buy from the commissary.

Her throat clears through the recording. “I’m sure you are all familiar with the tale of Lord Vader’s daughter—“ They all look to each other, tension in the stuffy room. “Private operatives have located and confirmed this being to be her. The asset shares the same abilities and skill of her father. Perhaps more.”

“This is a fuckin’ suicide mission,” Furge says. “We’re supposed to go after one of them devil wizards?”

Suddenly second best makes sense.

None of them stood a chance, they were never meant to. Another expenditure by the Empire. They weren’t esteemed soldiers from a dwindling lot, they’re as worthless as the rest of the galaxy.

Horix steps in a puddle, wincing at his foot stuck in the mud. He could still have a chance to make it out alive, comm chatter indicated other surges retreating throughout the morning. It’s a tough decision, to leave with his life a coward or leave this life a forgotten sacrifice.

“How are you all holding up?” he asks to the open communication line. “Any updates?”

“Same as they were ten minutes ago.” Coltin. “They already sent and called back the Dark Troopers. Why are we still out here?”

“The Moff specifically requested for us to head this mission, because we’re the best.” Almost. “We’ll stay as long as we have to until it is complete.”

“Reports onboard Gideon’s cruiser said the Inquisitor came down to engage the Mandalorian.” Triemp, the youngest of the group. He never got to properly graduate from whatever academy he came from.

Lothal, Horix thinks. He’s still too skittish, like a frightened kitten.

“Bitch is crazy,” Furge says. “They said we couldn’t do that.”

“Thirteenth Sister can do what she wants. She doesn’t concern us—“

“Wait,” Triemp says. “Wait. I’ve just gotten word—The Mandalorian has been… taken care of?”

“Elaborate.”

“It’s just that. We weren’t the only ones instructed not to harm him. My source says the Sister and Moff Gideon were screaming at another on board.”

“Is he dead?”

“Gideon?”

“No genius, the Mandalorian.”

“Uncertain. If not completely, close to it.”

Netru speaks up, “…The Mandalorian is down?”

“Correct.”

“Have you heard anything about the alien?”

“Acquired by the Inquisitor,” Triemp says, gulping his words. “She’s directly gone against orders.”

“If she’s alone we have to get back to the ship or else we’re fucked.”

“Let’s not be dramatic,” Horix cuts in. “This was the Inquisitors fuck up, not ours. We still have a job to do. There’s no reason for panic.”

“You think they told us to stay away for kicks?” Coltin asks.

“I’m only saying we don’t know why, it’s foolish to assume.”

“She’s Lord Vader’s daughter,” Netru says. “What else do you need to know?”

It is a valid point. He—whether it be fortunate or not—never had the pleasure of meeting Vader. But his paternity isn’t the only story told throughout camps.

“You honestly believe she’s his child?” Horix huffs. “That’s disappointing.”

“Disappointing?”

“Well, if she is his child… they must share more similarities other than abilities.” A chorus of ohs echos. “I always believed Vader looked more like us.”

“I heard the Jedi kid that blew up the Death Star was his too,” Coltin says. “That kid doesn’t look a thing like her.”

“It is possible she is from a different mother,” Triemp says.

“A bastard?”

“Or he is. She is the one Vader kept after all.”

“Kept the wrong one then,” Furge says.

For once, they all agree.

“Focus,” Horix interjects. “We’ll regroup at the ship, figure out a new plan. Netru, what’s your status on location?” On their initial spread they planned on no more than fifty yards of separation. But he’s always been a wanderer.

With no other man speaking, he’s met with static.

“Netru? Come in. Report your location.” The static pops, crinkling. “KT-9248 come in.”

“Net,” Coltin says.

“The idiot must have walked outside of comm bounds. Furge, what’s your status?” Reluctantly, he answers with coordinates. Not too far off, closer to where Netru was meant to be. “Will you find him?”

“On it.” He drops the connection.

“The rest of you—“ Thunder cuts him off, a lightning strike over the mountains. “Get to the ship on your own.”

“What about you?” Triemp asks.

“I have a mission to complete. I’m going to find and report the asset to Moff Gideon.”

A female voice breaks through the line, honeyed and smooth. “That’s bold.”

“Sir?” Triemp says.

“You can contact Gideon?” Then more to herself she says, “But I thought…”

“Who is this? This is a private channel.”

“Dammit,” she mutters under her breath. “Stupid.”

“This is Senior Officer Horix Kelis, KT-7392 of Imperial Corp 7254 of the Galactic Empire. I demand you disclose your identity.”

There’s shuffling, a cough then steady breathing. “KT-9248,” she says, like she were reading it from a manual. “Netru Bolts,” she sighs, “Junior Officer.”

“Pardon?”

“That’s what his arm says.”

“How do you have Bolts?”

“Just his arm,” she corrects. “The rest of him is… here and there.”

“Holy shit,” Coltin says. “It’s fucking her.”

Triemp whispers, shaking, “Lady Vader.”

More breaths come from the end of the line. Spiking chills run up Horix’s skin. Breaking into a sprint , feet snapping twig and splashing in streams. “Back to the ship! Back to the—“

“I don’t know if I like that name.” She’s completely mellow, sounding dazed. “Lady Vader… Sith are given names—” She stops short, and humming enters his ears. “Hello. Which one are you?”

“Furge! Furge get out of there!” Horix shouts.

“Hi Furge,” she says. “I’m—oh, this is a lightsaber—an arm… I couldn’t figure out how to it take off. It’s in poor taste I know, but… yes, it’s his… I only wanted his help,” she snorts, “things got out of hand. Clearly. I won’t hurt you if you help me. I promise.”

The connection turns to static again, the surrounding rain and winds blowing out the mic.

“Sir,” Triemp says.

“Get on the other line, Tri. Contact the remaining, order every man to return to the ship immediately. After that I want you onboard, locked in.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Colt, get off the comm, I’m sending you my coordinates. We’re furtherest out, right now we’re stronger together.”

“Understood.”

The girl’s voice comes in again, more on edge, pointed. “Horix, is it? May I ask you something?” 

“What is it?”

“Is Furge lying to me?”

“What?”

“He says they took the Child. Is he lying to me?”

Stuttering, Horix answers no. Distant from the rest, a scream to awaken hibernation sounds. Breathing follows. Five inhales, six exhales.

“How many of you are there?”

“Twenty.”

“Eighteen now.” Cold. Missing the sickly sweetness it was coated in just moments ago.

Sick to his stomach he can hardly repeat it. “Eighteen.”

The humming stops, and her voice comes directly from the microphone on Netru’s detached arm. “Officer Kelis?”

He swallows collecting spit. “Yes?”

“You should start running too.”

---

“Wake up Mandalorian. Wake up.” 

Groaning to life, every muscle inside of Din tenses and every joint cracks. It starts with ringing in his ears, ending with vision restored to his eyes. His side is prodded by a blunt object, later discovered to be Fennec Shand’s foot.

“Lu…”

“Wrong Fett,” Fennec snorts above him. “I think he has a concussion. Should get checked out.”

He finds Boba, or three Bobas, the world a dizzy mess.

“Where is she?” The Bobas ask.

Din blinks, struggling to focus on the data within his helmet. Heart rate is at an all time high, blood pressure the same, oxygen levels too low. He considers the possibility of being dead, a void filling his mind. “Who?”

“Maker he’s lost it,” Fennec says. “Your girlfriend. Where is she?”

“Girlfriend?”

Concern now etches into Fennec, she crouches, face pinched. “What the fuck happened to you? Your girlfriend,” she says slower. ”Lumina. The one you were going to propose to this morning?”

“What?” The Bobas say.

“There was no good time to tell you.”

“Why was I not consulted first?”

“I don’t think that matters right now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Later,” she says. “Mandalorian, where is Lumina?”

Din groans again, pants unheard through his modulator. If this is how she feels after her increasingly common fainting spells, well he can’t blame her for getting sick each time.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Where’s the kid?”

The Bobas nod to Fennec. “Search the ship.” Then to Din, “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t know,” he says again. “I haven’t seen her.”

“Since when?”

“Since…” He frowns. When did he see her last? She was there last night. This morning before she left on her walk… Din coughs, the sludge of soil uncomfortably wet under him. Nothing comes back to him as a clear picture, fuzzy understandings lingering in his mind.

There’s a fire, a storm… Imperials. She came out of the woods at some point with the Child…

Din blinks, only now noticing wetness on his face, too cold to be blood. It hits him like a ship thrown out of hyperspace.

“Lumina,” he says panicked, sitting up far too quick. He speaks again, surprising himself with the anger it comes with. “That fucking bitch.”

A blaster bolt flies against Din, sparking beskar right over the left side of his chest. Knocked back fully to the ground again, the three Boba’s turn back to one with proximity. His soiled boot keeps Din pinned, blaster and wrist gauntlet pointed to his head.

“What the fuck—” Din gasps.

“Ne shab'rud'ni,” Boba says. “I don’t give a fuck what she did to you. If you ever disrespect her again, you’ll wish she got to you first. Am I understood?”

 “Fett!” Fennec stands at the top of the Crest’s ramp, unfazed by the scene. “We have a situation.”

“I’ll say.”

“The Child is missing.”

While Din’s head snaps the best it can to her direction, Boba removes himself, holstering his gun. “What do you mean missing?”

“As in he’s not here.”

“The Jedi took him,” Din says. He tries to stand again, slow, an eye constant on Boba.

“What Jedi?”

“She came with the TIE… had a red one of those laser swords.”

“Fuck.”

“What’s going on?” Fennec asks, jumping off the ship.

“Inquisitors,” Boba says.

“They’re all dead.”

“So are we.” He points to he sky. “And the Empire. And her. We’re all supposed to be dead, none of it matters.”

“But if they’re here then—“

“We’re too late. It’s already happened.” Boba grabs Din by his shoulders, despite the height difference and with significant strength. “Mandalorian, where is she?”

“She left,” he says.

“Left where?”

“I don’t know. She was talking about Gideon and—“ His hand leans against his head. “Fuck.”

“He needs a medic,” Fennec decides, approaching. “Concussion, internal bleeding, who knows what they did to him.”

“Mandalorian,” Boba says.

Din doesn’t mean to snap, or at least he doesn’t think he does. Nothing feels like himself. “What?”

“I need you to tell me everything you remember.”

“She said—“ It’s like he’s filled with static, memories glitching from one thing to another. “She… wanted to talk to him and—I don’t know. I…” He takes a breath, collecting his thoughts with the ground. “I was with her and she was crying and I— we… I had her. She promised she wouldn’t leave anymore. She promised she’d stay.” He looks up. “Then all I wanted was to get away from her. So I took the kid and I left.” 

Fennec looks dumbfounded, he’s sure Boba shares the same expression.

“Let me ask you something,” Boba says. “Do you love her?”

“What?”

“You wanted to marry her right? Do you love her?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t you rather she be here then?”

“…No.”

“Why?”

Din sits with himself, silent. He doesn’t have an answer, not one that won’t result in another assault from Boba. He can’t say the thought of her makes him irrationally angry. That he gave her everything, every piece of himself and she still left. Again. 

But… he’s the one who left ultimately. He grabbed Grogu, he agreed to it, he knew what it meant, the conditions she set. 

Pounding intrudes on his head again, the conflict more painful than the blows from the not Jedi.

“She’s in trouble,” Boba continues. “Do you understand that? We have to find her—”

“My kid is in trouble,” he counters. “She can take care of herself. What I need to worry about is getting him back.”

Boba’s arm sticks out behind him. “Fennec, hand it over.” She places a metal disc, the size of her palm in his. Painted black, it flashes red. “Do you know what this is?”

Din nods. “A tracker.”

“Found it on my ship after you left. Whoever put it there knew we would come for her. All of this was planned. All of it. Do you know what that means?”

He says nothing.

“It means she knew. She knew the Empire was coming.”

“You don’t know that—“

“That girl can sense the energy of a city on the other side of moon if she damn well pleases. She spent her whole life on my ship, you really think she couldn’t tell there was a tracker?” His voice lowers, a whisper with killer instinct. “They want her. You will never understand how valuable she is to them.”

“Why? She’s not special like the kid, she doesn’t have—“

“Abilities? Powers? Never mind everything else, you know she can feel energy, that she hears things we could never. What do you call that? They have your kid and they’re not gone. Why is that?”

“…She said she made a deal with Moff Gideon.” He says this slow, coming to his own realization. “That’s why she wanted me to leave. Said he wouldn’t hurt us, the kid. That he’s scared of her.”

“She knew exactly how this would go. They fucked up Mandalorian. If she finds out they have your child—you’re the only one that can bring her to her senses and stop her.” 

“I don’t understand. Stop her from what?”

“From killing herself.”

---

Horix never met with Coltin. He took the girl at her word, sprinting before the last syllable dropped. He doesn’t care about being a coward, all he wants to do was live. Honor be damned. Being exiled, put on trial, discharged. He’d rather all of it.

He found Triemp first. The poor fucking kid, he looked just as scared as he always did. The others he’d rather not remember, though he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the smell.

There are five left, including him. Could be less and he just hasn’t found them. Coltin is out there still, but Horix doesn’t intend to look for him. He has to get to the ship, fly away, leave the sector, the Outer Rim.

He has to never look back.

It’d be easier if he knew how to get out of the labyrinth. If it weren’t for the fact that he has yet to see the same body twice, he’d be convinced he’s been running in circles.

He has no time, and yet it dares to feel infinite.

 Horix sees Coltin first. He’s held against a tree, four feet in the air. His hands grip around his own neck, feet kicking out. Then he sees her. At the base, hand passively raised only to her shoulder. She’s drenched in rain, possibly other fluids he won’t spend time imagining. She has a lightsaber, red, prominent from the rest of them.

“Don’t move!” Horix shouts. His blaster rattles in shaky hands. He switches the setting off of stun. “I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill you I swear.”

She listens. He catches how her eyes roll, annoyed, pushing her hair out of her face. The lightsaber  turns off, and attaches to her hip. She turns.

“I said don’t move!”

“Officer Kelis?” she asks. “You came.” He could swear she’s relieved, voice like a lullaby. She looks at Coltin, tilting her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t need you anymore.”

Her wrist turns, and so does his neck.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says, turning to Horix. “I’ve been looking for you. I need your help.”

“You killed him. You fucking killed all of them,” Horix pants. “You’re a monster. You tore them apart—“

“And I apologize for the mess. It could have been cleaner, I got carried away. That doesn’t matter now. I need you to help me, I won’t kill you.”

“No. No! You’re just like him—I’ve heard stories. Of your father—”

“Then you’ve heard about me. You know what they want with me, don’t you? What was your mission objective?”

“I don’t—“

“You’re the one in charge,” she snaps, then breathes. “You should know. What did they tell you to do?”

“Capture you.” He says this shaking, suffocating under his helmet. “To not hurt you. Not hurt the alien. Or the Mando.”

She frowns. She frowns like it were a personal insult. “What do you do after you capture me?”

“I contact Moff Gideon.”

“How?” He fumbles, pulling out the cylinder. His thumb hovers over the red button. “Do you have a rendezvous point?” He nods. “Let’s go then.”

“What?”

“You’re going to turn me in. Contact Gideon, if you can tell him you have me, do it. Then you’ll take me to your point.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to talk to him.” She walks forward, his finger waver on the trigger. “I gave him my terms, he didn’t listen.  So you either help me, or I’ll call him myself and you can join your friends. It’s your choice.”

---

Wiping her cheek, Lumina’s hand turns a dripping red, washed down her arm by the rain. Her chest heaves, soaked hair sticking to her skin. Her left hand clenches, nails biting into her palm. She smiles, the closed kind, full of relief.

There was a purpose to this, there should’ve been anyways. She looks to her lightsaber, drawing a scorch mark in the mud. It crackles with the wetness, a putrid smell coming with it.

She looks behind her, the troopers head—Horix—stares at her beyond the helmet. It flew farther from the body than she intended. She used to be better at that.

Decapitations are few and far between these days.

Her lightsaber attaches again to her belt, a breaking twig snapping her head to attention. She grabs the cylinder from his hand, cringing at the loose muscles.

It’s never not disgusting.

She clicks it, listening for the subtle whirling inside. It shouldn’t be too hard. Wait for the hold or TIE to descend from the heavens, make an entrance. Looking at Horix, she briefly considers bringing him as a gift. She decides against this, too tacky.

It’s his fault for not agreeing. All her plans have turned to shit, she should have expected this would join the list. Now she can’t play the prisoner angle. Not that Gideon would have believed it. But she likes having intent, it’s all lost now.

Dammit.

It takes two minutes for a ship to be spotted entering atmosphere, blinking lights closing in by the mountain range.

It’ll do.

Moff Gideon is a shorter man than Lumina expected. He stands by the entrance of a modified cargo shuttle, arms crossed in front of his body. He holds himself like a giant, gaze solid as stone, pointed forward.

The head would’ve been a nice distraction right now, the storm at last fading away for thick humidity. Taking a breath, Lumina pats down her now straight hair, pulling her shirt to not stick to her chest.

It’s important in times like these to make a good impression. To be presentable.

Lumina storms into the clearing, arm out stretched. Gideon slams against the hold before recognition arrives. His body lifts into the air, gasped breath and bulging eyes.

“I warned you what your insolence would cause,” she bites. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that child of yours. If you find such pleasure in direct disobedience and taking mine, just you wait until you see what I can do to yours.”

Words being too strangled to be understood, she releases her hold, just enough.

“It wasn’t me,” he coughs. “I told them not to—“

“Who?”

“The Inquisitors! I can’t control them, they’re like animals—”

Her body stalls before her mind, and she sounds like a little girl. “Inquisitors?”

“They need a leader. A voice to answer to, someone to fear, to show them the way. You—“ he coughs again, ”—they can all be yours.”

The notions tickles something inside of Lumina, hers. Nothing has ever been hers before. Always someone else’s, a temporary possession, a loan. Inquisitors would be useful… if not difficult all the same. They’d only want more power, her position, her favoritism. They’d be overgrown toddlers fighting over a toy. Then again, a toy can be powerful leverage. It’d give them a goal, ambition, meaning.

A reason to obey.

All useful to her, true. She wouldn’t have to bother in gaining their respect, it comes with the name.

Lumina shouldn’t listen to any of it. She knows the ways of Sith better than any living sentient in the galaxy. Then again… what else does she have to lose?

She lowers Gideon, keeping him against the durasteel. “Tell me more.”

“Some were recovered from Project Harvestor, runaways,” he says, face ready to flinch. “Others new followers, lost, greedy. Insubordinate.”

“How did you get them?”

“They found each other, and they found me.”

“Why?”

“Why else? Connection. Common goals. Three of your peers remain. Four including yourself. 324. 306. And 313.” Gideon catches the twitch in her brow, the split second of a dropped facade. It’s his moment to strike and he’d be a fool to not engage. “I would argue 313 is most eager for a reunion.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?” He takes a step forward, she takes one back. “You’re spiritual, I’m sure you can find the answer in yourself. In fact, it was 313’s idea to recruit you in the first place. Something about… making good on a promise? Does that ring any bells?”

“Shut up,” she bites.

He takes another step, and she trips on a rock. “You are nothing but a scared little girl. Understand I am offering you the galaxy.”

Her hand shoots forward again, trembling while he’s only that short distance away.

“Hurt me and the Child dies,” he says.

“Where is he?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Gideon—“

“Do you realize how much of my time you’ve wasted playing your little game?” He cups her cheek, ignoring her ragged gasp. His touch is warm, dry. “Look at you,” he mutters. He strains her neck up and to the right. Thumb and middle finger pressing into her jaw. “You’re perfect.”

Spit flies to his face, streaking down his cheek. He shoves her head away, hard enough to throw her to the ground. Mud splatters in her hair on impact. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. “I have never wanted to hurt you.” He kneels to her level, gripping her hair to force a stare. “If you only listened to me before. You could have avoided all of this.” Her eyes meet Gideon’s, he stares at her cold, unapologetic. “What would your father say if he saw you now?”

“Do not speak of him,” Lumina mutters. “You have no right.”

“Don’t you want him to be proud of you?”

“Stop it.”

“He chose you for a reason. Everything Lord Vader did was for you, and you threw it away. And now,” he stands, circling her like a vulture. “You’ve thrown that away too. Look at the mess you’ve made. Do you honestly believe you can go back after this? That the Mandalorian, that anyone could ever accept you when,” he waves outwards, “this is what you do? What you are?” 

Lumina’s gaze hardens, head shaking.

“Did you think you could change? Take a hand at playing someone else? That is not how this works.” Gideon’s voice turns honeyed as he says, “Wouldn’t you rather be somewhere you’re wanted? Accepted? Where you’d never have to hide again?”

Gideon would make a good Inquisitor, she thinks. He turns into warmth, stopping behind her, kneeling once more. His hand grips her shoulder, the flesh of it bruising her. It’s as if a shadow follows him. It’s an enveloping darkness, pulling her hair behind her shoulders, stroking down her arms. Her back hits his chest, and shakes.

“Look at this place,” Gideon whispers. “You enjoy this.”

She’d prefer to sleep now, an exhaustion filling her bones. The ground is comfortable, softer than when it’s dry. Maybe if she did, she wouldn’t have to wake again.

“If you join me, I will give you everything you ever wanted. How does that sound?”

The shadow strokes her cheek, beckoning the rest of her to follow. It’s a hypnosis, singing to her in the echos of the Force.

The dark side has a way of dominating destiny. Forever a winding path, guiding the hopeless follower into the abyss. Ahsoka may have been wrong about her, about all of this. In thinking there could ever be more to her. Everyone was wrong. She is helpless.

The shadow whispers this in her ear.

Lumina doesn’t think it’s Gideon, non-Force Sensitives rarely have such palpable an aura to them. It can’t be her own either, she’s too friendly with it, too much a part of herself to be this distinct. The shadow is the same as it was this morning, before it all began.

Her hands are still red, darker now.

“Doesn’t it sound nice?” Gideon asks her again, but she can’t hear his voice anymore. It comes from the darkness, gentle still, familiar and old. “It will be like it was always meant to.”

“Yes,” Lumina whispers. Her muscles relax, head drooping forward. The shadow circles to her front and holds her chin up.

“You’ve been wronged,” it says. The shadow touches her again, a shiver flooding her skin. “With me, you can make them finally hear. Don’t you want that?”

She says, “Yes.”

 The shadow presses, words hissed. “Yes, what?”

Lumina falls against Gideon’s body, eyelids heavy. “I want Din,” she mumbles, the whiny sort.

“He means nothing,” Gideon says, distinct from the fog. “He only holds you back. I give my allegiance to you, my Lady. ” Her head is light, fumbling to reach her lightsaber. His hand falls on top, a strong grip. “Don’t.”

“Relax,” the shadow urges, and she does.

“What do you get out of it?” Lumina asks.

Gideon’s answer is simple, coming without thought. “You.”

And the shadow responds, “All of you.”

Then Gideon says, “All you have to do, is come with me.”

---

When news first broke about Corellia, Din never thought much about it. It was everyone else in the galaxy that became obsessed. They questioned how a high functioning Imperial base could run in the core worlds, what that meant for the rest of the regions, and the effectiveness of the New Republic.

The location of the base was in plain sight, a presumably abandoned warehouse, tucked in some alley. Pedestrians watched storm troopers walk in and out every day without qualm. 

As soon as the first report came out, written by some novice journalist on Coruscant, the whole of Coronet City was put on lockdown. Residents were arrested by the dozens, security footage from every business within two miles was seized for inspection. New Republic guards stood at check point bases on every other street, chain codes became mandatory upon inspection.

No one got in. No one got out.

To the citizens of Corellia, the new occupation meant the Empire never truly left.

The Senate didn’t care, no one did. They cared about image, brushing away their frayed edges behind riot gear and impromptu searches.

Din caught a glimpse of a news broadcast after Greef Karga told him of the incident. Some senator, a princess and former Rebellion leader, was the first to speak up. Spewing nonsense about needing to be strong and how the resolve of the Republic will not falter.

No one ever mentioned how the base was exposed. Only the initial report credited the discovery to the Red Axe Syndicate. No one else spoke of the so called atrocities found inside the warehouse. No one else gave mention to the reported dozens of storm troopers slaughtered like livestock. Not one word of the hazard crew called in to clean it all up.

As far as anyone was concerned, a base was found and promptly ‘dealt with’. End of story.  Should they find it, Din wonders how the New Republic will cover up this disaster. If they’d even care.

It makes Corellia look like child’s play.

He can’t all together describe it. If a bomb went off there’d be no disparity to the current scene. Storm troopers aren’t just dead. They’re unrecognizable and thrown about like cheap Life Day decoration. Bodies are broken and bent into inhuman positions. It could be debated if some bodies are still to be considered bodies at all. Or just pieces of it.

“Keep your eyes forward,” Boba tells him, leading ahead. “No use lamenting.”

“I’m not.”

“No use for thought then.”

“…Do you know how this happened?”

“Like I said, thought isn’t helpful right now.”

“What does Lumina have to do with all of this?”

A cargo shuttle enters their eye-line, parked with the oversized droids from earlier acting as guards. “I’d wager that’s Gideon. Hurry up.”

“What does he want with her?”

Boba steps over a torso—just a torso—and ducks under a branch. “If she’s with him, you’ll have to go in alone. There’s no telling how much he knows. If he’s smart, his goal is separation. He’ll tell her anything he has to to get her on his side. If he knows what I fear he does, I won’t risk being the one to cause her turning.”

“And what exactly would he know?”

Boba comes to a full stop, and he turns. “You should consider yourself lucky you’re not interesting enough to have anything to hide. Over time, it devours you.”

---

The cargo hold of deliverance for Moff Gideon stands surrounded by droids larger than man. They wear an imitation of black armor. Red lights acting as eyes scan the area, their heads turn from left to right and back again.

The export door to the shuttle is prompted wide open, the Moff himself paces around the inside. His hands clasp behind his back, cape blowing with every sharp and unnecessary turn he makes.

An officer stands at attention in the doorway to the cockpit. Were it not for his rising chest Din would believe him to be a droid as well.

The inside of Din’s head feels like a steady vibration, his neck twitches. Maybe Fennec was right, a concussion would explain the weight of pounding dread in his mind.

Boba already circled back to camp, were he here Din would have it in his right mind to make him stay instead. What does he care about finding her? The idea of her alone ticks a bomb in his heart.

Boba should be the one here, not him. She’s his child whether he’d be keen to admit it or not. Din has his own to look after, to look for. All she is, is a distraction from the real issue.

She wanted to leave, Din reminds himself. She saw him. He gave her everything and she left. He shouldn’t be here, not for her.

He doesn’t see her until it’s almost too late, turning in the bushes to make an escape.

From the very beginning, the very first day in the mechanic’s hangar on Tatooine, Din Djarin has inexplicably been drawn to the girl. Possessed in a way to consume nothing but her, to live only off her smile and steel eyes. He’s lost himself in her, finding a horrifying discovery that whoever he is, whoever he was before, no longer exists. 

She is a curse that has stripped him bare to all his inhibitions and he has so willingly granted this. He should despise her, he wants to. Everything in his head drives his logic to the conclusion that she must be left. To allow her to do whatever it is she does when she runs away. To take the opportunity and leave. Leave her, leave for good. That he would be happier beyond measurable belief.

And Din believes this.

But then he sees her. The same way he’s seen her every morning in the sun and every night in the moon. He can’t help himself anymore than he could on Arkanis, seeing her again. Barely an hour away feels like a lifetime apart.

The universe and all of its gods have guided him to her, and for what reason? What path could be so necessary he must face this constant torment? She holds a part of his soul he never knew was missing. 

Try as he might, he can’t leave her.

Not yet.

Not without leaving himself.

Lumina sits in the hold, back to the outside on bent knees, head bowed. Muscles tremble, a constant shiver from the incoming wind. She’s tied up, shoulders forced back, rope digging into her wrists. Moff Gideon paces in circles. He grabs something black at her hips, handing it to a droid.

Gideon raises a hand against her but the strike never hits. Instead he’s frozen inches before contact is made. The droids pull their weaponized arms against her, a unified step forward. All at once Gideon’s hand falls, as do her shoulders.

Din alters the inner mechanics of his helmet, sound readjusting to a new frequency covered in static.

A rush comes over Din, pricking from inside his throat. His muscles turn rigid, his vision almost red. He’s never had a clear grasp on her abilities, they make as much sense as the kids. But if there’s a chance… he may have a plan.

“Fascinating.” The voice comes from Gideon, paused in front of her. “What your peers accomplish with action, you do with thought alone.” He reaches out. “I see why he chose you.”

“I told you don’t touch me,” she mutters, riddled in exhaustion.

“Lumina,” Din says, just louder than a whisper.

Her head lifts like a startled kybuck, turning to the left.

“Lu, can you hear me?”

“Don’t bring him into this,” she whines. “You can’t do that.”

“Who do you speak to?” Gideon asks. “What do you hear?”

“I’m sick,” she whispers, though not as a response to him. “I’m sick. He’s making me sick, none of this is real. None of it matters.“

“Sarad,” Din says. “It’s me.”

She stiffens, looking both directions. “What?”

“Get Dr. Pershing on the line,” Gideon says to the officer. “She needs an immediate evaluation.” The officer nods once, he disappears into the cockpit and Gideon follows.

“Lumina,” Din says again.

She doesn’t waste time. “Where are you?”

“East. Behind the shrubs, twelve degrees to your right.”

“I can’t turn around.”

“But you can feel me. Can’t you?”

It takes a second, but her head nods. “I thought—How are you here?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Din groans, shaking his head as the pounding returns. “I came to bring you—Fuck.”

“You have to leave,” she says. “It’s not safe here.”

“How did Gideon get a hold of you?”

“Din you can’t be here. I mean it. You have to leave, tell Boba I’ll be fine. If Gideon sees you—“

“Can you stand? I’ll distract the droids, you can make a break for it while they aren’t looking.”

“Din—“

“Can you?”

“…Yes.”

“Okay.”

Scared, breathy she asks, “Are you real? How am I talking to you?”

He shrugs. “I have helmet hearing. You have super hearing. It’s convenient.”

She scoffs. “Yeah… yeah it’s you.”

---

Plans, as Din Djarin has long come to find out, are far better in theory than in action. What he expects to happen as soon as he spots his opening—as he aims down the barrel of his pistol, pointed at the exposed mechanics of the droid furthest in the ship—is for the bundle of wires to collapse into a heap of itself.

In time he will learn reality will never match expectations.

The droid doesn’t even stumble in its assigned position, eyes lifting from its harder gaze on Lumina out into the forest. The others follow its direction.

Their march synchronizes like soldiers, filing out the shuttle two by two. Unfortunate, but not impossible. He shoots again, now to the first in line. In their hive mind, they approach him, guns raised.

Shit.

The droids block his view of the ship, but he picks up the sound of shuffling. “If you can run, I suggest you do that now!” His pistol fires, each shot directed and with no impact. “What the hell are these things?”

“More than you can handle. Get the hell out of here before they kill you.”

“What about you?”

“Do you actually want me to go with you?”

The shutdown of his mind is one Din never expects or intends to have happen. All thoughts disappear into an opening abyss. He loses focus of aim, sight, consciousness even. The ability to process the wind, the approaching droids, her words. It all vanishes. 

Because he doesn’t. The simple and frankly obvious answer in his mind is no. He never wanted to do any of this, but he can’t say that. Not to her, not here, not in the middle of his failing rescue mission.

“Din?”

He wants his kid. He wants to go back to the Razor Crest and get the hell away from this place.

“Din?”

He wants to get away… from her.

“Din!”

Before he can act, let alone think, a hand of the front droid grips him. He’s lifted by the neck, dangling like a baby tooka from its mothers mouth. Despite his protest and struggle, he’s returned to the ship. Thrown to the ground he lands right in front of her. She hasn’t moved an inch.

Lumina pulls against the ropes that hold her, shuffling the best she can. “Be careful with him!” She barks. He isn’t sure they understand much of anything. “Din? Din, are you okay?”

An automatic response, the display in his visor runs through a heap of diagnostics, scrolling past his vision in orange text. Nothing’s broken, not yet anyways. Head trauma is suggested, whatever that means.

“I think I’m fine,” he mutters. “What—“ He stops short, seeing her. She’s drenched and bloody, red smeared across her cheek, her hands… dried mud caked in the creases of her pants, clumped in her hair. “What happened to you?” Gathering the strength, he rises to his knees. Cupping her face the way he has a thousand times before, his thumb wipes her cheek. “Is this yours? Did Gideon do this to you?”

Her face drains of color, the same emptiness he found in her on Corvus taking her features.

“You can’t be here,” she whispers, pulling away. “You’re not supposed to be here, it’s all wrong.”

“Shh.” He pushes hair from her eyes, leaning forward. “It’ll be okay. We’re together, we’ll find a way out we always do.”

She’s misty, distorted in motionless air. “No, Din, you don’t understand—“

“Gideon took the kid—“

“I know.”

“You know?”

Lumina leans against his helmet, shallow puffs of air fogging his vision. “Din, listen to me. I have to do things my way now, I can’t—I can’t have you mess this up. You have to let me go. You’ve done so much, you have to stop. Okay? You have to stop now.”

“Lu… I don’t know what’s going on. I feel—something happened. I can’t remember anything it’s like… I don’t know. What I do know, is that the kid is gone. Someone took him, I can’t get him back without you—“

“I know,” she mumbles. “That’s why I have to do this.”

“You, promised me Boba Fett.” Gideon stands above them in the doorway. Lumina slides her body in front of Din’s. “What is he doing here?” 

“I don’t know,” she says.

“You told me—“

“I know what I said,” she snaps. “I can’t—I can’t control him. I don’t know why or how but nothing I do works.”

“Then what good are you?”

“Plenty. You’ll learn that, but you have to let him go. He doesn’t have anything for you.”

He stares at the Mandalorian, face twisted in a scowl. “I don’t like surprises.”

“Gideon, you have what you want from me,” Lumina says. “That should be enough. Let him leave.”

“You shouldn’t be here, Din Djarin.” Moff Gideon says. “I should have given the order to kill you when I had the chance.”

“That’s your own mistake,” Din retorts. “Whatever she has for you isn’t worth all of this.”

“You have no idea what she’s worth.”

“Destroying an entire moon? Have you taken one look at the damage you’ve caused? Your own men are massacred because of what you’ve done. Does it mean nothing to you?”

To Din’s own surprise, Gideon lights up. “What I’ve done? You don’t honestly believe that I am capable of all of this. What aim do I have in gutting my own forces like fish?”

“What aim did you have in destroying Mandalore? I don’t care what information you want out of her. I came bring her back and that’s what I intend to do.”

Gideon paces around them, the heels of his polished boots click on the floor. Each step heavy with purpose. “She isn’t going anywhere. Not anymore. She will be returned to exactly where she was always meant to be.”

“She doesn’t belong to you.”

“Of course not. Just like her father, she is property of the Empire.”

Beside him, Lumina turns rigid, biting her bottom lip raw. 

“CF-318,” Gideon says. “How is he immune?”

The signs are the same as they always are. Her emotions become distant before disappearing completely, her eyes lose herself, her chest heaves, panicked and desperate for air.

Din’s reaction is muscle memory. His arms wrap around Lumina, the touch of his beskar cooling her feverish head. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “You’re okay, just breathe. I’m right here, Lu. It’s okay, don’t listen to him.”

“Lu,” Gideon mocks on his tongue. “Midnight. Gloves. Tracker. Ayy’Numa. Marie. Nebula. Estelle. Ellian. Omani. Atikya. Lu. Why do you insist on hiding who you are?”

She strains herself to speak. “Do not—”

“CF-318. You are Imperial Assset, CF-318F1.” He kneels to her level, squinting. Were it not for the combat droids Din would have his hands around his neck. “I believe I asked you a question. How is Din Djarin immune?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do,” Gideon says. “Tell me. Are you not strong enough?”

“I am.”

“So tell me why.” Snapping leather fingers, the droids form a new position. They circle the trio, guns all aimed… at Din. Before Lumina has a chance to react Gideon grips her arm, pulling her away.

She struggles against him, yanking until the rope burns her skin. “No, no! Gideon!”

“Why has he not listened?”

“I told you!”

“Don’t. Lie.”

“I’m not! Don’t hurt him!“

“Fire on my command. In three. Two—“

“It’s the beskar!” Lumina shouts. The light behind them shatters at its base, glass spilling on the floor. “I can’t get past it, it’s blocks everything! That’s all I know. I promise.”

Gideon, never one to be satisfied, throws Lumina at Din. She crashes into his chest, they almost topple over. “Mandalorians,” he mutters. “You lower yourself with him. Do you realize this?”

“That’s not true,” Lumina says.

“And what do you suppose they’ll say when they’ve realized you’ve broken the first rule of your programming? You have no credibility with him.”

“Lu,” Din says. “What is he talking about?”

Gideon’s expression flickers. “Does he not know?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she mutters.

“Do you have any idea who she is?” Gideon asks. “The power she holds?”

“I don’t care about that, that’s behind her. It’s behind us.”

“Oh but you should,” Gideon laments. “Since the death of her father, she is the rightful heir to the Empire. Hand selected by the Emperor himself to one day rule at his side.”

“What?” Comes in unison from both Din and Lumina. 

“That’s not true,” she says.

“Do you deny your inheritance?” Gideon asks.

She says nothing.

“Lumina—“

“Palpatine tried to kill me. He never wanted me, he wanted the other one.”

“The Jedi,” Gideon says.

“He had a choice. It wasn’t me.”

“And yet here you are. Alive. Why do you think that is?”

“My father saved me. He wanted me alive.“

“Do you honestly believe, the Emperor did not know you survived? That he is capable of making mistakes?”

Her tone strikes with hesitancy. “You don’t know him like I do.  He is selfish, and greedy, and his arrogance blinds him. I spent my life studying his weaknesses. I know exactly what that man was capable of. Mistakes are high on the list.”

“He sees you as his granddaughter,” Gideon says. “Your return is of his demand. He wants you. He needs you.”

Only now, Lumina falters. Din can’t tell what comes over her. Why her head falls back, why her breathes come from her mouth, or what she stares at on the back wall like she’d seen a demon.

“Stop it,” she whispers. “I don’t want—I don’t want you. Shut. Up.”

“What are you doing to her?” 

“Nothing. She’s deranged,” Gideon offers.

“She’s sick. Has been for weeks. You’re making her worse.”

“No. She’s only rediscovering herself, her anger, her loyalties. And you my friend, are the final piece.” He looks at the droids, waving his hand. “Allow Din Djarin to stand.” So he does. ”Follow me.” 

Moff Gideon guides him to a wall of screens, he twirls a code cylinder between his fingers. “I believe it’s time you discover the truth, Mandalorian.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your girlfriend.” He snickers from the word, plugging the device into the computers terminal. “I’m afraid, has been harboring a dangerous secret from you.”

Lumina stops talking to herself, short, all at once. “What are you doing?”

On Gideons command, two of the droids haul her off the ground. One grips her arms together, the other keeps its gun to her head.

“What are you showing him?” She pulls at her hold, to no avail. “Gideon let me go. This wasn’t part of the deal! I told you he can’t know about it!“

“What deal?” Din asks, facing her.

“Moff Gideon,” Lumina ignores, to his surprise sounding like a politician. Strong. Powerful. “I command you to stop and release me this instant.”

Display monitors come to life, static and blue. All fill with the same frozen with an image of Lumina. Sat in the Razor Crest, a growing bruise under her left eye.

“I apologize,” Gideon says, regretfully melodramatic. “I’m afraid that isn’t possible.”

On the screen, Lumina comes to life. Rustling plays through speakers before her voice. “Red Axe, Crimson Mission Report,” she says. The date and time follow. Over four months ago. “Current location: Trask. Previous location: Arkanis. Destination is currently uncertain, but I assume somewhere in the Outer Rim. I’ll update when I can. Contact with target has been successful. Relationship with target known as the Mandalorian is—” Lumina, the current version of herself, pulls against the droids. She strains herself shouting Gideon’s name, “—uncertain, and in development. No news of interest to report.” She sighs, hand rubbed over her face. “You know I really fucking hate you for sticking me with him again. I was better on my own. I left for a reason. As soon as you clear me to come back I’m gone.”

The next video plays:

“Current location: Hyperspace. Previous location: Llanic. Destination: Ryloth. Relationship with target…” Smiling, Lumina says, “Good.” Noise rattles in the background, she turns to it. “One second!…Get a better ship and I’ll be faster!” She looks back at the camera, grinning. “Really good. I gotta go, bye Lena!”

The next she dates hours later, bright red marks littering her neck. She pulls her hair in front of her shoulders. “I’m doing my job. You said to get close to him… I am not being disrespectful… no I know I’m not allowed to but… All of it?” Her eyes roll. “Red Axe, Crimson Mission Report…”

The next plays, cut to the middle. “Relationship with target is decreasing and really fucking annoying.”

Then the next. “Relationship with target, satisfactory.”

---

“…Acceptable.”

The videos never end.

“…Stupid.”

They play one right after the other.

“…Fine.”

Din hasn’t said a word.

“…Increasing in my favor.”

It’s hard to tell if he’s breathing at all anymore.

“…The best its ever been. He’s really great—at falling for it, I mean. No I just—it’s pathetic. Naboo is really nice though, it’s the most at home I’ve ever felt… I don’t know, it’s familiar.” The clip stays uncut after this, Lumina nodding, tying up her hair. “Technically I’m not ‘diverging from the mission’. My job was to follow the Mandalorian, I’m still doing that…”

“Turn it off,” she says. “We didn’t agree to this, turn it off!”

“Don’t.” It comes from Din.

No one dares to move.

“…I’m not that horrible,” Lumina says. “I can pretend to not be horrible. Very well, might I add. You know this.”

“Pretend?” he repeats.

“Din, I can explain.”

“This whole time. This whole time you were pretending?”

“No! No, never.”

“He is!” Lumina laughs in the video. “He’s been very… sweet to me, in his own way. And he’s started taking his helmet off. I haven’t seen anything, obviously, but, well it feels important to report that.”

Finally, he looks at her. She can envision his face, every line, every hair with perfect clarity. She wishes she couldn’t.

“You didn’t know her lineage,” Gideon says. “You don’t know her worth, her power. You have no idea what she is capable of. How she,” he points, “alone produced what you’ve seen out there.” His attention returns to the screen. “This is my favorite part.”

“I’m not attached,” Lumina argues. “I do not love the Mandalorian. I will not ever love the Mandalorian. And he certainly does not love me. I am perfectly capable of staying on my mission and completing it. Whatever it is, I can and will do it.”

The montage ends here, glitched and stuck in the middle of her eye roll.

“These are doctored,” Din swallows, “it’s easy enough to do. You have the technology.”

“I ask you this,” Gideon muses. “What benefit do I gain in creating a false narrative? When she excels at spinning her own web? Mandalorian, how well do you really know her, when she has been my payroll from the beginning?”

Din remains stuck on the screen, her broken image. “Tell me he’s lying,” he says. His voice holds no inflection, no emotion to bear vulnerability. He speaks like it were a term of business. Another arrangement between them, agreed upon over a contract. “That’s all I need. Tell me you don’t work for him.” He turns to her. “I promise nothing else you’ve done matters to me. Just tell me those are fake.”

“Din.”

“Tell me.”

Her mouth opens to close again, shaking. “Din—”

He stands in front of her in an instant. He stares at her the same way he did on the Razor Crest. Before it all began, stuck in the cockpit arguing about her return to Coruscant. “Are they real?” He’s venomous, rasped in a growl. “Yes or no.”

Quietly, she responds, “Yes.”

He says the same thing he did then too, “You’re unbelievable.”

“I quit right after Naboo,” she defends in vain. “I never knew it was for Gideon until it was over, I promise. I would never take a job for the Empire, you know that. Lena never told me why I had to follow you, I thought she was getting back at me for Corellia, that it was another punishment or a joke. Din you have to believe me.”

“Why? You said so yourself, you lied about everything. It’s what you do. So why the hell should I believe you on this?”

Lumina has no response to give. 

And he says, “I’m done with you.”

Nothing inside her is intact. “What?”

“I’m done. I’m done, Lumina. All of this. Everything that’s happened, everything we’ve done. Everything I’ve done for you. It meant nothing.”

“No, no it meant everything—”

“You lied to me.”

She pulls against the droids, bruising her arms. “You think I wanted to?”

“Trust me you don’t want to know what I think.”

 “Relena owned me. If I didn’t do what she wanted I—you know what they did to me. You know what everyone has done to me. I have to listen! I had no where else to go.”

“You had me!” She can’t remember the last time he shouted at her, and she flinches like he were any of the others. “You had me, and you left. That was your choice. I told you then, I’ll tell you now, it’s always been your choice. You left. You went back to that shit hole. You took the job. You work for the Empire. Not Relena. Not Neri. Not your father. You.”

“I told you, I didn’t know—”

“You didn’t know?” he mocks. “Who the fuck else wants anything to do with me Lu?”

“I wasn’t hurting you, I didn’t think it mattered.”

“You’re so fucking stupid.” Din scoffs, shaking his head. She thought there was nothing left inside, that her tears were spent. “Cara was right about you.”

She was wrong.

“Don’t say that—“ she whispers.

“You’re a selfish entitled brat. You can’t stand one second away from yourself to think about who you might hurt. Or you and you just don’t care. The moment anyone tells you anything you break down like a child because you know exactly who you are.”

A dam breaks inside. The light above pops and burns out, her jaw clenched. “Stop it.”

He doesn’t flinch. “Oh I’m sorry your highness, did I offend you?”

“That’s not fair.”

“I’m past being fair.”

“Din—“

He steps to her, like it were instinct with a clenched fist glued to his side. “Say my name one more time.” He shakes his head. “I gave you everything I had. Everything you never got. Not because anyone told me to, because I wanted to. Because I was stupid enough to think you had an ounce of good inside of you. I wanted to marry you. I trusted you with my son—“ He stops. He looks at Moff Gideon whose sly smile only grows.

“Where’s my kid?” Din asks. “Do whatever you want with her, I want my kid.”

Moff Gideon shrugs at the Mandalorian. He’s leaned against the entrance of the cockpit and he shrugs. “Ask her. The attack on you was her idea. I thought we had an agreement you were to be left alone, or else I would’ve done it myself.”

Lumina manages her voice before Din, who whips his head so fast it might actually break. “What?”

“318, now is not the time to be daft,” Gideon says. “The jig is up, you’ve been caught. It’s best to admit it, there’s no going back for you.”

“What did you do?” Din sneers.

“Nothing!” she stutters, a laugh, as panicked as ever coming out. “I would never—I don’t know what he’s talking about. You—You know how much I love him, I would never. He’s my baby too, I wouldn’t—“

“He’s my kid,” Din interrupts. “He’s only my kid, you are nothing to him anymore. Do you understand that? What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

Another light goes out.

Gideon’s tongue clicks the roof of his mouth. “318, I’ve told you I have no use for the Child anymore. Clearly your plan has again failed. I implore you to tell him the truth for once.”

“Shut up!” she snaps.

“Where’s the kid Lumina?”

“I already told you, I don’t know.”

“If you lie to me again I swear— I’m only here because Boba didn’t want to look for you himself,” Din admits. “I didn’t want to be here to begin with. I never came for you, I came for him. What did you do?”

Slow, Lumina’s head turns to Din. Her mouth partially opened, her eyes to match beskar, glare. “You…” she begins. She speaks with deliberate pause, dark from her chest. “You don’t want to look for me.”

“I don’t want to look for you,” he agrees.

“You want the Child.”

And he nods. “I want the Child.”

Huh.

Considering all possibilities… Lumina ultimately decides Gideon is right. There is no going back. She does an awfully good job at ruining herself, its happened again with greater consequence but so what?

What reason does she have to care anymore?

At the end of the day she’s still alive. She still has herself. That’s should be all that matters. And it is.

Tears sting at her eyes, she tries to blink them away but they fall with no regard for herself. For six years she’s had nothing but headaches and nightmares. She isn’t proud, she can’t see herself as a victim. She only is what she is, no matter how horrible that may be.

What other choice does she have?

She sees in Gideon the same thing she’s seen in so many people. In Neri, Sully, Relena. What she saw in the mechanic who homed her on Tatooine. In Omera as her wounds were nursed and her body washed. In Tidhel and her stupid pretentious friends playing dress up in greed. In Petiko before his head left his body.

She almost smiles.

It’s exactly what she saw in Din. Sees in Din. And what Vader saw in her.

Opportunity.

Lumina looks between the Mandalorian and Moff Gideon. She can hear the analog clock tick away further in the ship. She counts the seconds.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven…

At thirteen she nods to Din, her lips pursed. “You think… I… kidnapped my own kid. My child. You think I’m that dumb to take him like this, and not the million times before that I’ve been left alone with him.”

The Mandalorian’s head twitches, and his fist unclenches.

“You, think I’m selfish and entitled and that I’ve been manipulating you from the very beginning. You have to hold yourself back from hitting me.”

Now both his hands turn to fists.

“You hate me,” Lumina says, eyes searching whatever lays beyond the visor. “You actually hate me now. You don’t think I ever loved you.”

“You never did.”

“Yeah? Maybe I didn’t. Then what?  You saw this coming.”

“I saw it coming.”

“You knew this would happen. You knew I never loved you. You always knew.”

“I always knew,” he mumbles. “I…”

She instigates, pushing forward. “What else do you think of me Din? Huh? I lied about loving you. So fucking what. Tell me how much you hate me Din. Tell me.”

The answer is instinctual. “You’re evil.”

“I’m evil.” Lumina scoffs, biting her tongue. “I’m evil. I spend my whole life trying to be good enough to be called evil, and you—I have been nothing but good to you. You, have never seen evil in your life,” she snaps like a whip. “Never.”

The hull shakes, the Dark Troopers holding begin expel black smoke from their chests. 

“That’s enough!” Gideon barks.

“Evil is letting your kid get murdered because of some blond cunt you don’t know. Evil is blowing up an entire planet because some princess won’t tell you where the Rebels are. Evil, Mandalorian is dying and leaving the only person who loved you, who you conditioned to love you without any closure!” The display monitors shatter, glass flies everywhere. “You want to talk about evil? You wanna call me evil? You don’t know the first thing about evil!”

“Does it make you feel better?” Din asks, as always only having eyes for her. “Hurting people like your dad hurt you? Do you think that’ll make him give a fuck about you?”

“What did you just say?”

“You ever think about why Boba doesn’t want to call you his kid? It’s because you’re psychotic. He hates your dad, and you’re probably just like him.”

Without a second to waste, every source of light in the room flickers on and off. On and off until the bulbs explode one by one. The computers of the ship power down to reboot three times over. The droids at her side collapse.

Lumina feels herself burn.

“Get him out here,” Gideon orders the remaining droids. “Now!”

“Where’s my kid, Lumina?” Dark Troopers grab Din by the arms, forcing him back. “Lumina, where is he?”

“Don’t touch him,” she mutters, pulling at her rope. “Don’t touch him. Gideon! Gideon don’t touch him!”

“Hold her back,” Moff Gideon instructs two others. They do and she is once again helpless.

“Lumina what did you do to the kid?” Din shouts.

“Get rid of him,” Gideon says. They drag him out of the ship, the squad of them with guns raised.

“I said don’t touch him! Din! Din!” 

Lumina screams until her throat is raw and the doors shut, trapping her inside. She screams promised threats at Gideon, throwing everything she knows. His mother, his sisters, his daughter, his status. He doesn’t so much as blink.

Not until she starts laughing.

“You stupid fucking cunt. You’re a fucking idiot if you think I’ll ever help you,” she spits. “You were so close… You’re a mistake, Gideon! All of you are the same. You. Fucked. Up.”

“Sedate her,” Gideon says. “Two doses.”

“You’re a coward! I gave you two rules! You think what I did out there was bad? Just you wait until I get my hands on you. You’re going to wish you were dead by the time I’m done with you.”

Lumina screams until a needle pricks her neck, blood running cold. She collapses, and the lights never turn back on.

---

“Where is she?”

The Mandalorian pushes past a questioning Boba Fett without a comment to spare. He limps, shaking out his arm. The droids threw him at a tree, and took off when he hit the earth. Surveying the area, there are less bodies scattered, and he sees Fennec at cliff’s edge wiping her hands.

That’s one way to do it.

“Where’s Adi?” Boba asks again, grabbing his shoulder. He’s stronger than before—or Din’s getting weaker, they’re both reasonable—forcing his entire body to turn on his heel.

It might be a Mandalorian trait, the ability to discern emotion despite the helmet. They both wear theirs, but he can still make out Boba’s tight jaw, his fleeting eyes darting back and forth.

“Who is she?” Din asks, hoarse.

“What?”

“Who the hell is she, Fett?”

“What’s happened?”

Din laughs. Shaking his head he points to where he came. “What happened? What happened is that she’s a maniac and apparently the Emperor’s granddaughter—“

“Who told you that?”

“Did you know?”

Boba shakes his head. “That’s not—she’s not.”

“The heir to the Empire? The chosen one to take over for her father? You’re the one who wants her as an advisor, all that education had to be for something.”

“It was the vision of my employer, I never wanted that for her.“

“Gideon says the Emperor chose her.”

“Impossible. Palpatine never knew her, we made sure of that. We both knew how dangerous it would be if he found out about her.”

“She’s working for Gideon,” Din says. “This whole time she’s been working for Gideon, spying on me. You want to talk about dangerous? Let’s start there.”

“She would never do that, she loves you.”

“I saw the video myself, Fett. She confirmed it!”

“Where is she?”

“She’s with Gideon still, wherever he fucked off to. Hopefully it’s hell.”

“Shit,” Boba spits. He moves from Din, speeding to the Slave I. “Fuck!”

“What’s going on?” Fennec asks. She holds a trooper helmet like it were a toy.

“We have to go,” Boba says. “Ready the ship.”

“Context?”

“Gideon’s taken her too.”

“Unfortunate, but I’m sure she can save herself.”

Boba leans over, whispering. Din can’t make out a word, but Fennec’s expression changes from passive dismissal to real tangible fear.

“You’re certain he’ll find out?” she asks.

“They wouldn’t wipe data like that. One test and she’s caught.” 

“Would they tell her?”

Boba shrugs.

“I told you you had to tell her yourself—“

“Now is not the time for a lecture. We have to go. I made a promise to keep her safe, I’m making good on that.”

Fennec motions at Din. “What about him?”

“He’ll come with us.”

“I’m not doing anything that benefits her,” Din says in defense. “I’m going back to my ship. I’m looking for my kid. I’m done with this.”

The moment comes as if on cue, and Din will forever consider himself nothing but a cursed joke of the galaxy. A green bolt of energy blasts from the atmosphere, shooting between the clouds until an explosion ruptures miles away.

In the exact location of the Razor Crest.

“You’re fucking with me,” he says.

“Like I said.” Boba comes from behind, a hand on his shoulder. “You’re coming with us.”

---

Din Djarin is perpetually stuck in a vacuum of space and time where he is forced to watch its continuance with no say of his own.

His body jostles with every movement of Boba Fett’s ship and he has nothing of value or importance to occupy his vision but the rifle belonging to her. Laid against the wall, propped and looming with shadow. 

It is shadow.

Everything is shadow.

He’s too reflective to be devoured by famine.

Fennec and Fett are upstairs, talking. Arguing. He can’t hear their exact words and he doesn’t want to. They can talk about him. Of her. Of them. None or all of the above. He’s lost the ability to care for any of it.

The only thing he feels is the weight of whatever he could save from the Razor Crest; two ingots of beskar, the ball Grogu played with, and his spear.

Nothing else remains.

“All I’m saying,” Fennec says. She jumps down to the hull, and Boba follows. “Is we could at least try.”

“No,” Boba replies. “I’m not involving her in this.”

Fennec holds some frame that she waves around haphazardly. “She’s been involved in this.”

“The answer is no. You don’t know for certain if she’s alive, and I won’t allow them to meet like this. We can do this on our own. I said I’ve found her before, I can do it again.”

With an exasperated sigh, Fennec tosses it onto the seat next to him, landing face up. “How do you suggest we get coordinates to Gideon’s cruiser?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“We’re on limited time.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

“Your sister—“

“Meg is the last person I want to talk about right now.”

Meg, or whoever, Din assumes is the girl in the photograph. Young and blonde, sat in the middle of a group of armored men. Each different than the last.

He looks at the photo then to Boba, and back again.

And again.

And a third time for good measure.

Or not so different after all. 

“I know someone,” he says. The first he’s spoken since entering the ship. “He can get us coordinates… If we go to Nevarro, I can get the assistance I need to contact him.”

They stare as if he’s grown a head, and Boba nods.

“I’ll reroute,” Fennec offers, and leaves the way she came.

The helmet does nothing to hide his stiff glare and tight jaw. “We’ll need more numbers if we don’t want to die on that cruiser. I know other Mandalorians we can contact on Trask. They can offer assistance.”

“Who?”

“Bo-Katan Kryze. Her gang. She owes me, or… her.”

“She’s met Bo-Katan?”

“You know her?”

“Of her. She’s a reluctant friend of the family. To put it simply.”

“Reluctant?”

“My people aren’t welcomed in most circles. Specifically hers.”

“Is she going to be an issue?”

His head nods to the side. “She might be.” Boba steps back once, then forward, then back again. “I’m sure you have questions, and although it’s not my place to answer them… do know I understand how you feel.”

Din lifts the frame, tilting for examination. “These your people?”

“Some.”

“How many left?”

“Of them? None.”

“Except her.”

To this Fett says nothing.

“Anyone else?” Din asks.

“There might be more of us laying around still. I never kept track of that, it was more her thing.”

“Anyone else?” he asks again.

“I have a nephew,” Boba says after a moment. “And a niece.”

Din nods, slow, careful. “Do you have children of your own?”

“No. She’s the closest I’ll ever get—”

“And you don’t claim her as a foundling?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t want to hear you say that you understand how I feel. I’ve lost my home. My child has been taken from me. I have been lied to, for months. I wanted to marry her this morning and she is the reason all of this happened, and now she may be dead. You do not understand an ounce of how I feel.”

Boba’s squint can be confused for a glare, or maybe it is and they are one and the same. “You blame her for this?”

“She should have told me.”

“And what would that change?”

The snap is as heavy as cut rope, and burns just the same. “I wouldn’t have gotten involved with her to begin with.” His chest aches, and the fire of the forest has moved to rage of grief inside him. “I wouldn’t have trusted her with my child. I would have never looked at her if I knew this would come from it.”

The glare now, is unmistakable. “She didn’t ask for this.”

“Neither did I.”

Din leans while his hands grip the plates of beskar on his thighs. “I’m getting my kid back,” Din says. “And if she’s still alive, you’re getting yours. I don’t care what happens after. That is where it ends for us.”

---

An Imperial Starcrusier drifting through hyperspace with no real urgency, rumbles and creaks. Inside the sterile white room, florescent lighting blinds. A male, appearing middle aged, paces. He wears latex gloves and a lab coat, wire frame glasses perched on his nose. He clicks a recorder in his hand, the mechanics whirling awake.

��Hello. Greetings. This is Doctor Pershing,” he says to the holoscanner opposite him. “Let this be documented as HoloLog Twenty-Seven in the Harvested Project. The first in the category subtitled: CF-318F1. Unfortunately, all known documentation on the subject prior to adolescence has been completely wiped. I will have to begin again. There is a lot of ground to cover, so for simplicity sake, I’ll make this as quick as possible.”

Behind him, a girl lays on an operating table. She’s strapped by all her limbs, completely unconscious. An IV hooks into her arm, wires of an EEG covering her head. Her heart rate projected on a second monitor, oxygen levels on a third.

“While enacting my employment under Imperial remnants to Moff Gideon, it has been my task to properly assess all Force Sensitive assets acquired. Mainly, these have been of the remaining Inquisitors. These were former inductees into Project Harvestor. This one, however, is different.”

He sits in a rolling chair, spinning to see her. “She is quite special. Imperial archives have listed this being as CF-318F1, marked terminated some thirteen years ago. The reason for speciality is that this is the alleged daughter of Lord Vader. Whether it is a genetic relationship or not is unfounded. The Daughter has become a myth in Imperial circles. Legends tell of a child raised and trained in the ways of the Force by the Emperor’s right hand. She has been kept hidden for years. Intellectuals such as myself all believed her to be dead or simply nonexistent. Until now. I am proud to say the forces of Moff Gideon have successfully acquired her for my studies. The question has plagued the minds of my colleagues, myself, and my superiors as to why she was favored, saved, selected. I aim to discover this.”

Releasing one of the girl’s arms, he turns it in examination. “It is completely organic, and appears human. Blood samples indicate an M-Count far exceeding that of the other surviving Inquisitors I have examined.” He snorts, pushing up his glasses. “It really is quite extraordinary,” he says to the camera. “I am currently awaiting the results of a DNA sampling.”

“Ah, it is best I mention now. Data logs from a recovered ship of Lord Vader’s details several times over documents listed under the code 631-120-282-024-618.” Doctor Pershing reads this from a notepad on his lap. “Almost all the information has been redacted, save for the name and one mention of a female. Should this be his child it is not unreasonable to presume the file is on her.” 

He ties down her arm again. ”I believe Moff Gideon knows more than he is telling me. He’s instructed perfect preservation of the subject’s—.”

“Doctor.” An Imperial Officer stands in the doorway. He jumps. “Your lab results.” She holds out a data pad. “Moff Gideon wishes to meet with you to discuss your findings. He says you may proceed with any questioning and studies you wish.”

 “Ah, thank you,” he stutters. “Yes. Please, tell the Moff I am thankful. I will meet him before days end.” Doctor Pershings walks out and reenters frame, the doors shut behind him.

He gawks at the data pad. “Maker above,” he whispers, grip tight enough to turn knuckles white. “This is… this is marvelous.” He throws the tablet onto his desk, scurrying around the girl. “I can’t believe it.”

He laughs, a loud singular clap to follow.

“More research is needed,” he tells the camera. “Hundreds of hours perhaps. But should my theory prove correct—“ he motions around the body, waving over her core, “—then I am in the presence of the greatest scientific achievement known to man—so far.” He shrugs. “I never thought I would see this come to fruition.”

 The lights in the room begin to flicker. Medical equipment powers on and off, the room fills with beeping. The girl begins to move, reanimating limb by limb.

“No no no no,” Doctor Pershings whispers. He grabs a needle, injecting a relaxant into her arm.

She groans, weak with a scratchy throat. “What…” She pants, blinking awake.

“Hello.” He crouches by her head, her eyes lazily blinking and soon blinded by a miniature light. “Have no alarm, I don’t wish to hurt you. I am Doctor Pershing, you are currently in my office. I have waited a very long time to meet something like you. If you don’t mind, I have some questions I’d like to ask.” 

---

Chapter Thirty-Two: An Image of Perfection

Taglist: @lexloon @jay-bel @xsadderdazeforeverx @spideysimpossiblegirl @sarahjkl82-blog @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny

[ahsgotham]

somebody had requested a masterlist but i lost my draft as a response for it, so i’m gonna write it out here and hope they say it. these are my main interests and what characters i’ll write for, there are still tons of things not mentioned i’ll write for (such as, i’ll still write for ahs and gotham.)

i primarily write smut now, which is why i post on ao3 more, but i’ll still write sweet stuff, sad stuff, etc.

DEXTER

- dexter morgan

- debra morgan

- joey quinn

- angel batista

- rita bennett

- brian moser

- miguel prado

- travis marshall

- oliver saxon

PENNY DREADFUL

- ethan chandler

- vanessa ives

- sir malcolm murray

- dorian gray

- victor frankenstein

- brona croft

i’ve only seen up to the end of s1 so far, but i will write for dracula and jekyll in the future <3

PREACHER

- jesse custer

- tulip o’hare

- proinsias cassidy

- eccarius

- jesus

AMERICAN GODS

- shadow moon

- laura moon

- mad sweeney

- bilquis

- mr world

- tech boy

- mr wednesday

STAR WARS

- originals (han solo, luke skywalker, leia organa, boba fett, lando calrissian, darth vader)

- prequels (anakin skywalker, obi-wan kenobi, padmé amidala, bail organa)

- sequels (finn, poe dameron, general hux, rey skywalker, han solo, d.j.)

- stand-alones (cassian andor, bodhi rook, han solo, lando calrissian)

- shows (din djarin, cobb vanth, cassian andor, syril karn, obi-wan kenobi)

HORROR

for these ones there’s too many characters i’d write for to list off, so just request someone and see if i’ll write them. if not i’ll tell you.

- the scream films

- the final destination films

- the evil dead films/ash vs evil dead

- interview with the vampire (1994/2022)

- fright night (2011)

- twin peaks

- the mike flanagan-verse

HBO SHOWS

same deal as horror, rq someone and i’ll let you know

- true blood

- boardwalk empire

- six feet under

- the righteous gemstones

- band of brothers

- the sopranos

- succession

- veep

- true detective (only seen s1 so far)

MISCELLANEOUS

- anything i’ve written for previously

- sons of anarchy

- the magic mike films

- you (tv show)

- the top gun films

- scoot mcnairy characters

- mozart in the jungle

- ray donovan

- workaholics

i’m sure i’m forgetting some things, but here you go !! <3 rq and i’ll get to it. some things i might post on my ao3, ianmckinley.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Stars Above!: Masterpost

"Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.  - Sarah Williams, 1868

Chp. 1 & 2 | Chp. 3 | Chp. 4 | Chp. 5 | Chp. 6 | Chp. 7 | Chp. 8 | Chp. 9 | Chp. 10 | Chp. 11 | Chp. 12 | Chp. 13 | Chp. 14 | Chp. 15 | Chp. 16 | ?  

*****

Masterlist 

Artwork by @stormytitan​

AO3​

[flightlessangelwings]

More Than a Job- Part 1/2

Din Djarin x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: bodyguard!Din, mutual pining, feelings, protective!Din, minor violence, attacks on reader, badass!reader, reader has an older brother and they have a good relationship, me making up a planet and some lore, reader wears a corset, lingering touches, kisses, so much pining!!! This takes place after the end of season 2 but before Book of Boba Fett

Notes: This was all inspired by that post about your appointed knight tenderly helping you lace up your corset and I went 👀 bodyguard Din! No smut in this chapter, but part 2 will be smutty so this fic and my blog is 18+ only still! And I named reader’s brother after my good friend @thematthewmurdock​ because I like giving my friends cameos in my fics lol! Let me know what you think of this one cause I’m really excited for this!! 

To stay up to date on when I post, feel free to also follow my update blog and turn on post notifs @flightlessangelwings-updates​

~

Alone. 

For the first time in a long time, the Mandalorian found himself alone. He used to be accustomed to being alone, but since Grogu, he grew fond of the little one’s companionship. And while it was always his mission to return Grogu to his people, Mando still felt the sting of sorrow at letting him go. But, he was with his people now, and the Jedi would take good care of him.

Now it was time for the Mandalorian to find his own people.

Mando heard whispers of the whereabouts of a clan of Mandalorians, but the only concrete information he could get was a direction of where to go to find them. It wasn’t much, but it was a start, so Mando made his way to Mare. Ironically, it was in a neighboring system to Mandalore. Mando wondered if that was a coincidence or not.

“I’m looking for Prince Rion,” the Mandalorian stated simply when he walked into the throne room.

It was a simple space, but still elegant. Mando could tell it was built more for function than glam. Instead of a throne at the top to look down on subjects, there were several tables all with various plans and holos of the planet. It was clearly meant to state that the rulers saw themselves as equals to their people, not above them. It was admirable.

A well dressed man who stood in the center of his constituents raised his head, “Please, just call me Rion,” he crossed the room to meet his guest, “What do I owe the pleasure of a Mandlaorian in my palace? We haven’t seen one of your people in a very long time.” He was warm and friendly, but he also had an air about him that was immediately respectable.

“I’m looking for information on a clan of Mandalorians,” he replied, “I was told you could tell me where to find them.”

Rion didn’t seem surprised by the question; Mare had been a sanctuary for Mandalorians in the past, and several of their secret paths went through the planet. But, ever since the great purge and wars, there have been less and less of them. This was the first one Rion had met in many years. 

He sat in quiet contemplation for several moments before he finally answered, “I know the paths, Mando. I think I can help you,” he paused, “But I’ll need something in return as well. Call it a favor for a favor. I’ll even pay you handsomely too.”

Mando knew he wasn’t going to get something for free, “What do you need?”

Rion clasped his hands behind his back and paced, “I don’t know if you’ve heard of the state of my planet, but I’ll be honest with you,” he took a few steps closer and gave him a solemn look, “It’s not great,” Rion sighed as he released his hands and the facade of the wise, strong ruler melted away to reveal a desperate man, “My parents, the King and Queen, were killed recently, and I’ve had to take charge in a rush. We’ve never been sympathetic to the Empire, and even though it’s gone, sympathizers still try to spark the flames of what used to be. I cannot allow that to happen. My people must remain free,” he ran his hands over his face, “But until I can assume full power, my palace and I are vulnerable. We are a people of tradition, you see, and my hands are tied until I’m officially crowned ruler of Mare… And that won’t happen for several weeks…”

“So you need a bodyguard?” Mando assumed.

“Yes,” Rion replied, “But not for me. Let me explain…”

*

You let out a heavy breath as you made your way down the hallway. Something in you told you that your brother didn’t summon you for idle chat, and you prepared yourself for anything he could have in mind. The two of you were as close as could be, especially after you lost your parents. Rion was a kind, smart and admirable man, and you looked up to him. 

“Ah, there are are, I’ve been waiting for you,” your brother noticed you the moment you walked into the room. 

He was dressed elegantly, as he always was, and he carried himself like the leader he was born to be. Even when his path to the throne of your home plant was fast tracked, he still looked out for you and watched over you, sometimes you thought a little too much.

“Alright Rion, what was it you needed me so urgently for?” You looked out of place in the room as the only one who was more dressed down. It made those who were unfamiliar with you underestimate you, but that's how you preferred it. You were your brother’s right hand, and you were a skilled and valuable member of his team.

Unfortunately it also made you a target, especially recently.

Your brother gave you a look that he only used when you weren’t going to like what he had to say, “Listen,” he said your name as he crossed the room and stood in front of you, “Things are worse than I realized lately,” he put his hands on your shoulders as you braced yourself for what was to come, “And until my coronation goes though, you’re at risk.”

“I can handle myself, Rion, you know that,” you fought to keep your voice calm, although you didn’t like where he was going with this. 

It was true that since your parents died, attacks on you and your brother increased. Those who still sympathized with the Empire tried their best to get rid of you and your brother so that the throne could be filled with someone who was more aligned with their views. But, you both were strong and tough, and you’ve evaded the blaster fire and vibroblades until now.

Your family fought hard to keep peace within your system, and it wasn’t easy. But, both you and your brother knew you were doing the right thing, and you were determined to keep doing so for as long as you could. Until he was officially named ruler of the planet Mare, though, the two of you were more vulnerable, and your brother did not like that at all.

“I know you can,” he sighed, “But until my coronation, I don’t have the power to fully protect you,” he paused as he felt the weight of your stare, “That’s why…”

You raised your eyebrows.

Rion turned around and gestured to the shadowy figure in the corner, “Sis, meet Mando. He’s going to protect you until I’m crowned.”

“What?!” you lost your control, “Rion, I don’t need a bodyguard!”

“Please don’t be a pain in the ass for him,” your brother’s voice was stern, “It’s only temporary. Just until the courts officially move the power to me. Then those Empire sympathizers wouldn’t dare attack us.”

You huffed in frustration as you crossed your arms. A whisper of a curse escaped your lips.

“Please,” Rion whispered your name, “You’re my little sister… My only family left. I can’t lose you too.”

It wasn’t often that you heard your brother sound like that, and the desperate look in his eyes deflated you a bit. Deep down, you knew he was right, you just didn’t want to admit it. You were alive so far, but how much longer would your luck last? How long could you keep up with your own duties to the planet and fight for your very life?

You let out a heavy sigh, “Alright.”

Rion pulled you into a hug, “Good,” he whispered into your ear, “Thank you.”

“Uh-huh,” was all you could respond with as you broke away from your brother and met the helmated gaze of the Mandalorian, “Alright Mando, guess we’re going to be getting to know each other very well.”

You turned and made your way out of the room, and the Mandalorian silently followed. He was stopped, however, by your brother who grabbed onto his arm and leaned in, “She’s tough, but she’s got a good heart. Just don’t let her stubbornness get to you,” he paused, “And once you’re done, I promise you’ll get paid well and I’ll give you the information you wanted. You have my word.”

Mando nodded and went to follow you out the door.

*

The first day was filled with council meetings in which you had to argue your way for anything. The others at the table seemed to talk down to you, no matter how right you were about the topic. As he watched, Mando realized the reason for your guarded behavior: you were like this because you had to be. You had to fight for anything and everything, even if your brother was well respected.

And the bizarre part for Mando was how right you were about everything. The lives of everyone would be better if they would only listen to you. And you could get more done if you didn’t have to argue for yourself every step of the way. 

“Have fun today, Mando?” you asked him as he escorted you back to your room.

Through the modulator in his helmet, Mando just scoffed.

You couldn’t help the smirk as you felt his eyes roll even if you couldn’t see them, “Well, this is me,” you gestured to your door, “I think Rion has you set up right next door,” you didn’t know why you suddenly felt nervous under his gaze. 

“Let me check though first,” Mando barged past you, “Always do this every night,” he told you as he swept through your room.

You were too flustered to say anything. There was a stranger in your room, and you didn’t quite know how you felt about it. You watched him move swiftly, despite the heavy armor he wore. You caught a glimpse of his silhouette under the cape as he bent over to check something, and you couldn’t help but stare at his legs. Suddenly, you were glad for more reasons than one that he wasn’t staying in your room with you.

“Everything’s good,” Mando turned back around and stepped in front of you, “You alright?” he tilted his helmet to the side as he saw the expression on your face. He wasn’t sure what to make of the look you gave him, and it made him swallow hard.

“Fine,” you regained your composure, “See you tomorrow I guess.”

Mando nodded as he left the room, “Keep your blade and comm close. Lock the door behind me,” he told you before he stepped out.

The moment the door slid closed, you let out a heavy breath, and you didn’t know that just on the other side of the door, the Mandalorian did the exact same thing. This was going to be a long few weeks…

*

And a long few weeks it was. Mando watched from the shadows over your shoulder as you went to council meetings and fought for the fate of your planet and the safety of your people. He watched as you displayed the same admirable traits as your brother, even if others couldn’t quite see it at times.

The way your brows furrowed when you tried to hide your exacerbation, the way your shoulders relaxed when you finally had a breakthrough, even the fierce look in your eyes were all captivating to the Mandalorian. The more time he spent with you, the more he became enamored with you, and Mando had to fight off his own quickly growing feelings for you.

“It’s just a job,” he’d whisper to himself at night when he was alone in the room next to yours. And yet, he couldn’t help but think, “The kid would really like her.” 

On the other side of the wall, you let out a heavy sigh as you started to feel comforted by the Mandalorian’s presence. What you thought was an annoyance at first, quickly evolved into something else, and the few times he wasn’t at your side, you suddenly felt lonely. You didn’t even have to look behind you to know he was there, and you always felt his watchful eye on you.

There were no attacks yet, and the whispers of threats always turned out to be rumors, but you wondered how fiercely Mando would defend you if something were to happen. You knew how to handle yourself, you and your brother both learned young how to fight, but his broad, armored body made your mind race. Your imagination ran wild as you wondered what it would be like to be in his embrace. 

“Safe,” you exhaled with a sigh as you thought out loud, “He makes me feel safe,” is what you decided it would be like in his arms.

While you were stubborn and reluctant at first, you quickly grew fond of the man in beskar who always watched over you. The more the days went by, the more you wondered if he was only so attentive because it was a job, or if he started to feel the same way about you. 

Of course, you would actually have to say something to know for sure. And you felt like you needed to apologize for the way you were short with him when you first met. That was when you had an idea.

*

“Here,” you shoved a small package into the Mandalorian’s hands as he walked you back to your room at the end of the day like he always did, “I’m sure my brother is keeping you well fed, but take this as a special token of appreciation from me. It’s a small comfort cake I’ve always loved. I don’t know if you like sweets much but I just thought…”

“Thank you,” Mando interrupted your rambling with a genuine tone. He tilted his head the way he did almost every time he looked at you now, and it was a gesture you had come to adore.

You let out a deep breath as you flashed a quick nervous smile, “I also wanted to apologize,” you waited for him to say something, but when he kept silent you went on, “I’ve been kind of a hard-ass with you, and I know it’s not your fault or anything and it wasn’t fair of me to take my frustrations on my brother out on you. So, I’m sorry.”

Mando watched you for a long moment, and you wished more than anything you could read his expression. You wondered what thoughts ran through his head as you saw the subtle way his helmet lowered as he looked you over.

“Don’t worry about it,” was what he finally broke his silence with. He stared at you for another long beat, and you thought his gaze dropped down to your lips, but you couldn’t quite tell. “Good night.”

You fought to keep your face neutral as you dropped your shoulders in disappointment, “Good night,” you replied before you turned and went into your room.

Once the door closed and locked and you heard the Mandalorian’s footsteps retreat, you let out a heavy sigh, “What am I doing?” you asked yourself as you changed and got ready for bed. You went through your usual routine, as well as the added safety measures Mando told you to do. You checked all entryways, made sure your door was locked and secure, and placed your knife and comm on your bedside table just in case.

Once you were sure you were safe, you flopped onto your large, plush bed and sighed again. Sleep did not come as easily as you had hoped, though, and you found your mind was full of thoughts of your bodyguard. You wondered about his past, and what he planned to do once your brother felt you no longer needed him at your side. You wondered if he would miss you after he went away. You wondered what it would be like if he were here beside you right now…

But your thoughts were interrupted as the glass of your bedroom window suddenly shattered and men dressed in all black poured in. You yelped as you shot up and instinctively grabbed your knife before they could grab you.

“You’re coming with us, sweetheart,” one of them sneered as he reached for you.

“I don’t think so,” you quipped back as you lashed out at him with your knife.

In the next room, Mando quickly leapt to his feet the moment he heard commotion. Sleep hadn’t taken him yet either, and he laid awake with thoughts of you in his head when he heard the sound of glass breaking and your shouts.

Still fully armed, Mando rushed to your door and unlocked it with his keycard. He whispered your name to himself and hoped that the seconds it took him to get up didn’t make him too late. But, as he bolted into your room with his blaster in his hand, the sight before him took him by surprise.

You stood in the middle of the scattered bodies on the floor as you panted heavily. In your eyes was a fierceness Mando had never seen before, and it made his breath hitch in his throat. When you heard the door open, you spun around, ready to attack again, but you immediately dropped your shoulders when you saw the Mandalorian there. 

“Mando!” you sighed in relief.

He breathed your name as he stepped closer to you, “Are you alright?”

Just as you opened your mouth to answer, another crash through the adjoining window called both your attention. One last man barreled through the other window to your bedroom and leapt right for you. You braced yourself, but the Mandlorian was faster and he rushed forward and shot the man right in the chest before he reached you.

Both of you watched the last man drop to the floor dead as Mando quickly rushed to your side, “You ok?” he repeated as he clasped his hand around your arm and looked you over for any injury.

You gazed into the visor of his helmet and you felt your heart pound in your chest at the way he held your arm so tightly, “I’m fine,” you let go of the breath you held, “See, I told you I could handle myself,” you added with a smirk to try and diffuse the tension you suddenly felt.

Mando tilted his helmet to the side as you swore you heard a short laugh, “I didn’t doubt you.”

A sharp exhale escaped your lips as you found yourself at a loss for words. Between the adrenaline that rushed through your veins and the way the Mandalorian held you, your mind swam with a thousand thoughts. 

Before either of you could speak, though, a groan from the floor interrupted.

“If we can’t take you alive…” he hissed through gritted teeth as he lifted his arm and revealed a detonator in his hand.

Mando reacted quicker than you did and with your name under his breath, he grabbed you and rushed you toward the open window. Suddenly, you found yourself swept up in his arms and before you knew what happened, an explosion shook your bedroom. Mando got you out just in time, though, and he leapt out the open window with you in his arms.

With one arm secretly around your waist, Mando pulled out a grapple and flicked it toward the frame of your window. He used the leverage of the cable and swung you both forward into the window of the floor below your bedroom. You gasped and buried yourself in the crook of his neck as he used his body to shield you as the two of you crashed through the window and landed on the floor safely.

All the breath felt forced out of your body as you hit the ground hard and immediately felt a weight on top of you. Mando had positioned himself over you to protect you in case there were any more intruders and he pointed his blaster out into the open space, ready to attack. As you panted underneath him, he scanned the area and it wasn’t until he was sure you were safe that he finally moved.

“Looks like that was all of them,” Mando said as he lifted himself off of you, “Let me help you up,” he extended his hand to you.

Although you had just fought for your life, you found that you missed the feeling of Mando on top of you, and you were almost disappointed that he got up so quickly. It took a moment for your mind to catch up to you as you stared at his extended hand for several moments. It wasn’t until he said your name with concern that you snapped out of your head and took his hand.

“I’ve got you,” Mando’s voice was soft and comforting as he helped you onto your feet.

Your hand stayed securely in his as your eyes never felt his visor. There were so many things you wanted to say to him at that moment, but nothing came out of your mouth. And before you found your voice, the door to the room you were in suddenly burst open.

Mando quickly shoved you behind him and pulled out his new weapon-the darksaber. He had it braced in front of you both, ready to attack, but he relaxed when he saw that it was your brother and his guards. Rion breathed your name in relief as he lowered his own weapon.

You peeked out from behind the barrier of beskar that protected you and gave your defender a square on his arms, “Rion,” you glanced at Mando for a moment in a silent thanks before you rushed over to your brother.

“Are you ok? What happened?” Rion looked you over and his eyes held a panic that you had never seen before, “Get to the healers at once,” he shouted orders to his guards.

“Wait… Rion…” you looked back at Mando with a worried look as you were pushed out of the room before you could stop them.

Your brother glanced down at the unmistakable weapon in the Mandlaorian’s hand. His mouth dropped open in surprise before he regained his composure and crossed the room to stand in front of him, “Thank you,” his voice still trembled no matter how he tried to hide it, “Thank you for protecting my sister.”

“It was my job,” Mando’s own voice betrayed him as he sheathed his weapon and secured it on his belt.

“Mmmhmm,” Rion didn’t sound convinced, “I think there’s more for us to talk about, Mando…”

*

You found yourself in a whirlwind as preparations for your brother’s coronation hastened. What should have taken weeks was done in a day, and you between the attack last night and the flurry of preparations, felt overwhelmed. It was a relief when you finally had some time to yourself to get ready for the ceremony.

Since your room was nothing more than ash now, your brother moved you to another room along with anything that was able to be salvaged. If you were honest, your belongings were the last thing on your mind. You actually only had one person in your thoughts, and you had barely gotten the chance to talk to the man who saved your life last night since you were so busy all day. 

You wondered where Mando was as you fumbled with your corset in vain. The last thing he said to you was that he was going with your brother to check over security and that he'd be back as soon as he could. As much as you initially resented having a bodyguard, you found yourself lonely without the Mandalorian at your side. You let out a loud sigh as you forced those thoughts out of your head and tried again with the corset of the outfit that was much fancier than anything you liked to wear on a daily basis.

As if on cue, a knock at your door made you turn your head and you couldn’t hide the smile that lit up your face when the Mandalorian walked into the room.

“I’m sorry I took longer, I…” Mando froze for a moment when he saw you standing there with your outfit off your shoulders and your corset loose on your waist, “Sorry I’ll…” he rushed to leave, but your voice stopped him in his tracks.

“No, wait,” you sounded troubled, and the desperation in your voice made his heart skip a beat.

Mando turned back around and the look in your eyes stirred feelings within him that he tried to hard to bury ever since he came here, “Is,” he swallowed hard as he stepped back into the room and shut the door, “Is everything ok?” he asked in his usually soft voice as he hoped you didn’t hear how strained he sounded.

“I actually,” you suddenly sounded sheepish, “I can’t get this stupid thing tied on my own. Could you…” you took a deep breath as you fiddled with your fingers, “Would you mind…?” you gestured to your back and the undone laces.

“Alright,” Mando whispered as he stepped up behind you.

“Thanks,” your voice was just a hushed as you turned back around and faced the mirror. You forced yourself to keep your eyes up as you watched the figure of the Mandlaorian come up behind you. You hoped that he couldn’t see how nervous you were as you tried your best to keep yourself calm.

His touch was surprisingly gentle for how tough a bounty hunter he was. You barely even felt his fingers against your body as he threaded the laces and carefully tugged at your corset. Vaguely, you wondered if he had done this before as you bit your lip and fought to keep your breathing steady.

You had a searing question on your mind, but as badly as you wanted to ask, you kept silent about it. You knew something was up by the way he was acting, but Rion refused to tell you what it was. You were sure it had to do with the weapon Mando carried with him, and as much as you wanted to know, you cared more about the man who stood behind you than anything else.

Together, the two of you stayed in a tense silence as the tips of his fingers gently brushed against your skin.

When you couldn’t stand the silence anymore, you whispered, “Thank you by the way. For saving my life last night.” You watched his helmet in the mirror and you caught the way his gaze seemed to flick up to your eyes as he looked up for a brief moment.

“It’s part of the job,” he replied softly.

Your next words were bold, even if you spoke them softly, “Is that the only reason?”

Mando was quiet for several moments, as if he wasn’t sure what to say back. “You had it mostly handled,” Mando replied as he forced his gaze back to your corset, “Everyone underestimates you.”

“Not you though,” you smirked as you felt him secure your corset.

“Never.”

At the same time, both of you looked up and met your gaze in the mirror. The lingering silence was tense as Mando’s fingers lingered on the skin of your upper back. It was at that moment that you realized he took his gloves off. 

You quickly spun around and took his hands in yours before you could stop yourself. Mando hissed your name in a soft protest, but any fight was lost when you looked at him with those eyes.

“Should I not…?” you asked in a whisper.

Mando stayed silent for a long moment, “It’s alright,” he finally said.

You knew you couldn’t see his face, but there wasn’t anything saying you couldn’t see his hands. But, you also didn’t want to cross any line with him, so you waited for him to nod before your eyes dropped back down to the only exposed skin on his body. His skin was surprisingly soft, even with the calluses on his hands from the weapons he wielded over the years. And on the back of one hand was a small bullseye tattoo. You smirked as you ran your thumb across it and made a note to ask about it another time.

“It wasn’t the only reason,” Mando whispered softly.

Suddenly, you felt brave and your eyes ran up his arms as you pictured what his bare skin looked like underneath all that beskar. When you met his gaze through his helmet, an idea popped in your head.

Slowly, you reached out and rested your hand on Mando’s chest. You looked into his visor for a sign to stop, and when you found none, you carefully slipped your hand underneath his helmet. You heard his breath hitch in his throat, but he made no attempt to stop you as you caressed his cheek under the armor. You exhaled sharply when you felt patches of stubble on his skin there and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Do you trust me?” you broke the silence of the room.

“Yes,” Mando replied without hesitation.

You nodded as you pulled your hand out from under the helmet and took one of his hands in yours. You brought his hand up to cover your eyes and you didn’t let go until you were sure he would keep his hand there. With trembling hands, you reached out again and slowly lifted his helmet up, unable to see anything in front of you.

Mando’s other hand came up and held your waist tightly as he allowed your actions. When you lifted his helmet enough so that his lips touched the cool air, he leaned forward and took own lips in a soft but needy kiss. You immediately moaned softly into his mouth as you almost lost your grip on his helmet.

The warmth of his lips engulfed you, and you quickly parted your own lips to invite him deeper into you. Mando took the invitation, and he tightened his grip on you as he dove his tongue into your mouth. The kiss quickly heated up and you felt like you could burst into flames from the passion you felt in Mando’s kiss.

“Din,” he whispered against your lips as he peppered soft kisses along the side of your face.

“What?” you kept your eyes closed as you basked in his affections.

“My name,” he clarified, “I want you to know it. It’s Din.”

You smiled against his cheek, “Din,” you echoed. The way he squeezed you tighter told you that he liked the sound of his name in your voice. And then it hit you that he spoke to you without his helmet on for the first time. Meaning you heard his unmodulated voice. It sent shivers up your spine and suddenly you didn’t care about your brother’s coronation. All you wanted was for him to rip off the corset he just so tenderly tied and tangle your body with his.

But, duty called, so reluctantly, you lowered his helmet. You waited for Din to take his hand off your eyes, and even then you kept them closed for another moment and just savored the feeling of his strong body against yours. Once you blinked your eyes open, though, you were greeted by the familiar silver beskar helmet that you had grown so fond of and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Shall we?” you asked with a heavy exhale.

Din nodded as he ran his hand down your arm and gave your hand one last squeeze before letting you go. 

[moonbaby26]

Title: The Droid Maker

Pairings: PreSarlacc!Boba Fett x Fem!Reader, HanxBoba (enemies)

Summary: After losing your family in an Empire attack, you fled to the Outer Rim seeking refuge and anonymity. But one bad turn after another led you to Tatooine and being sold into slavery at Jabba’s palace instead. It seemed like all would end there as well, until you found an unlikely connection with one of the fiercest bounty hunters alive. (Story includes cameos from Han Solo and Chewbacca as well.)

Warnings: Reader being treated like a piece of property within the palace. Reader having PTSD from dealings with the Empire before. *Contains smut*, but not until near the end. Full consent, but unprotected vaginal sex. Also oral sex with female receiving.

Notes: Set before the original trilogy. Apologies if I screwed anything up. It’s been a while since I’ve watched the films. I tried to stay reasonably within the lines. Also I don’t know if the Sanctuary cantina was in Mos Espa yet at this time, but I’m saying it was because I adore Garza Fwip.

My Masterlist

——————————

In some ways, you felt as if none of this were real. Because how many times could this kind of violence really happen to the same person without them finally giving up? Maybe you did have the worst luck in the galaxy.

But why were you still alive? Why did you even want to still be alive?

Even with the taste of blood in your mouth, and the sting of the chains now cutting into your wrists, you kept your head up as you were introduced to your newest potential masters.

Jabba the Hutt had had a sensitive disagreement with your former place of employment. But all you remembered was the blaster fire in the middle of the night. And then being dragged from your shared sleeping quarters with the other workers before your reflexive resistance had meant the butt of a gun cracked against the side of your face in return.

You knew the ones you’d worked for must already be dead, while the ones you’d worked with were being appraised and sold to not even the highest, but rather just the quickest bidders. It was a firesale of sorts, but on sentient beings.

“She is a droid maker and rebuilder, my Lord Jabba.” A pasty looking Twi'lek commented from near the grotesque crimeboss’ side. You were being judged, so quickly torn down to just the meager worth of your few skills alone.

“200 credits,” A Trandoshan from within the group of nearby buyers spoke abruptly. They were evidently all representatives from the local families and tribes which fell under Jabba’s jurisdiction.

You wanted to stare at the floor as such a low monetary value was assigned to your body and mind. But you couldn’t look away as you felt that overgrown slug’s eyes cutting through you in return. To you, Jabba’s true ugliness didn’t have to do with his size or shape. It was that air of intense cruelty, of gluttony, and of greed which exuded out all around him.

That is what made such a visceral reaction inside of you when your eyes met. You instantly hated all that he was.

And when he laughed in return, actually laughed then, it was a wet almost rattling sound.

You didn’t speak Huttese. So you couldn’t understand him as he spoke about you afterward, or know why his white Twi’lek and some of his other lackeys had then turned their heads towards him as if surprised.

“Of course, my Lord Jabba,” The Trandoshan responded, lowering their head submissively. “I rescind my bid at once.”

“Then it is done.” The Twi’lek made a gesture as he spoke next, and the guards at either side of you were then walking quickly again. The small slack in your chains was gone immediately as you were pulled forward to follow them.

But still no one explained anything to you. You could be walking to your own execution for all you knew.

The impatient guards now yanked you so roughly that you half stumbled. And just at the edge of a doorway that exited from the throne room, another hired gun lingered there. When he did not move, your shoulder almost grazed his weathered armor before you corrected your footing.

That hateful gaze you’d shown to Jabba couldn’t help but remain on your face as you looked fleetingly to the stranger though. But it was only an emotionless full face helmet staring back at you, through you, before their head turned back away. Their attention just shifting to the next poor creature that came onto the auction block in your place.

Truly the dregs of the galaxy resided here, heartless and unbothered by those they considered beneath them.

———————————

And that first night in the palace hadn’t gotten any better for you after. You did get to keep your life, for now at least. But they only removed the chains attached to your wrists in favor of a longer one then attached to your ankle.

You had been brought down to a lower level. It was greasy and dirty in a way that said it’d seen no deep cleaning ever just as it would never see any natural light here, even from Tatooine’s twin suns.

But you recognized the work space for what it was. There were parts and tools scattered all around haphazardly. Your chain was just long enough for you to move around the room, and to reach a closet like adjoining space which housed a sleeping cot, sink, and a vac tube/toilet. Lovely enough, you also found that the door to this ‘bedroom/bathroom’ had already been locked in the open position only.

Not to say you had any expectations of privacy anymore either. But once left alone and without further instructions given, you used the sink to wash your bruised face as best you could. The odd smelling water was no doubt recycled from some larger, unseen storage tank. But it was all you had energy left for before laying down on the hard cot to close your eyes and pretend to be literally anywhere else until you were called upon again.

———————————

The weeks that followed all ran together of course. You stopped trying to keep track of how many days had passed since your capture, because what did it even matter anymore?

It became obvious that Jabba had decided to keep you for whatever reason rather than sell you. It was also abundantly clear that the droids of the palace had not at all been properly maintained. And at first, those droids with complicated enough processors to be cognizant and cautious of you, were very much on guard and tight lipped so to speak.

But droid work and understanding them really was the one thing you were good at. And after a while of always tending to them and speaking to them respectfully, they did start to open up to you.

You learned that they had mostly been dependent on servicing one another. Either that or Jabba would just discard them and buy all new if they malfunctioned in a way which another droid couldn’t conceal for them.

This little workshop of yours had been unused for years apparently. The last slave to call it home had died a long time prior and just never been replaced as Jabba didn’t see any financial benefit to droid husbandry when he thought them all just as replaceable as any other machines.

But when you finally tried to ask the droids what had changed, why abruptly Jabba would pick you to reopen this workshop again, they sincerely didn’t seem to know.

So you stopped asking. And you tried to put all your effort into at least making things as good as you could for the droids that came to you. Even the snobbier and ridiculously Hutt loyal ones, you didn’t blame them for your own circumstances. They were just cogs in the same class system that you were now at the bottom of.

All you could do was help them, even when you could not help yourself. And so you did. Over and over, more of the same. Nothing was ever different.

At least not until that same hired gun came to you alone late one night.

Having completed all the work you’d been given for the day, you’d already been on your cot. Not asleep, but daydreaming. Somehow you were still able to. They could never chain your mind the same as your body you supposed.

“Droid builder,” The male voice had interrupted you so suddenly then.

You hadn’t even heard him coming down the stairs to your little dungeon as you startled up into a sitting position.

But it was him. The one you’d seen in the throne room the night you lost the last of your freedom. The man with the dark green metal armor and full face helmet.

You didn’t fail to notice the rifle slung across his back or the pistol on his belt either.

“Yes?” You asked warily. Your first assumptions then turning dark. Were you no longer needed? Was he here to dispose of you already in his master’s name?

But his voice betrayed nothing, just cold and to the point. “Are you knowledgeable on audio circuitry?”

You stared. Of course you were. But he had no droid with him, unless they were smaller and concealed somewhere on his person. “Yes.” You answered, returning his lack of elaboration with directness of your own.

“Then I need a repair completed tonight.” He responded immediately.

This wasn’t normal protocol. Even you knew that. But you had no power to deny him such a direct request. He was in Jabba’s higher ranks. If they came down here and asked something of you, you’d likely be punished severely for any pushback.

You had stood from the bed now, your ankle chain dragging audibly along the floor as you went to the metal work table.

You looked at him expectantly, but still unsure of what the job really was.

But he didn’t hesitate in giving the obviously required information once you’d agreed to assist. “My helmet. It’s synced with a receiver on my ship. I can call for the ship with my voice. But my last bounty, they used an EMP while trying to evade me. I have everything back online except that function. I need it working before my next job.”

So he was a bounty hunter. Someone most would find despicable. They killed for money almost as often as assassins did. And again, his voice was so matter of fact. But even without knowing him you somehow felt that this was the most words he’d spoken to anyone in a while.

“And I assume that next job is tomorrow then?” You asked before you could help yourself. It was likely foolish for you to say anymore than necessary either. Who knew what could possibly set this dangerous sort of man off.

“In four hours.” He replied just as short.

Yet it was only then that you thought you noticed just the slightest hesitation in him. Because you saw his arms raise to remove his helmet for you to work on it, but his gloved hands stopped just before touching the metal. It was only for an instant maybe, but it was there.

In the next moment though he’d grabbed the helmet, sliding it off.

He could have been multiple species under there, you weren’t sure what you’d expected. But again, there was an odd moment where you felt he was anticipating some sort of reaction from you.

But his face was not one you recognized. He was just another man. Albeit with black hair, brown skin, and some bruising that told of him maybe having had to deal with more than just an EMP on that last bounty after all.

You took the helmet carefully as he handed it to you. Whatever weight you were expecting it to have, it seemed off, odd as you turned it over to look inside around where the microphone he spoke of should be imbedded.

“What alloy is this?” You asked. As it would matter for you to know how conductive and heat sensitive it was before you got to work.

“Beskar.” He said. The first time you’d heard his real voice from outside the slight digital modulation of the helmet.

But you tried not to show your surprise at the answer. You’d never touched beskar in your life. No wonder you hadn’t recognized it. It was so rare and very expensive.

And then, you felt rather dumb as the dots connected belatedly. You remembered some of the stories you’d heard as a child, of the Mandalorians, and their warrior legends of old. They were synonymous with that metal and the specialized armor made from it. But he couldn’t be one of them, could he? They were almost extinct you thought. At least no one talked about them anymore.

What if he’d killed one of them and just stolen their beskar though?

No, none of this concerned you now as your hands were already moving automatically with your tools. Even if this was a bit outside of your normal job description, technology was technology. There was nothing more advanced in this helmet than you’d find in any old astromech droid for instance that were also paired with the ships they served on.

You could tell he was watching your every move so closely though as you unhooked the tiny wires one at a time, testing each one’s connectivity.

Was he waiting for you to screw up? Or was he so untrusting that he thought even a no one like you could still be a threat to purposefully sabotage his equipment?

The discomfort of his stare made you feel as if you had to narrate your actions after another moment. “You see this wire? It looks intact but it must have been pinched.” You said as you shifted the little screen attached to your probe tool to show him the reading. “The resistance is too high compared to the other wires. The current can’t properly get through. That’s why it isn’t working.” But you added the obvious too. “You tried to fix it yourself didn’t you?”

He gave you an odd look. But he didn’t seem too insulted. “Being self sufficient is a requirement in my line of work.”

That sounded true enough. If he’d really been keeping up the systems in his own armor this long though, he’d done a fairly good job all things considered. By the inner wear alone where the helmet had been slid on and off against his face you could tell this armor was many years old.

“These tiny guys just take more specialized equipment to connect and disconnect is all.” You added, removing the pinched wire with one of your smallest tools. Though a very steady hand really helped as well.

While you cut a new piece of wire to size from one of the wire rolls out of a drawer, you felt his eyes following you again.

He spoke once more though, still watching. “You make these tasks sound simple. But the improvements in the droids haven’t gone unnoticed since you arrived.”

It was very odd to be complimented. Especially by someone like this. And you weren’t sure how you were expected to react as a bit of a nervous laugh left you. “Well my work is all I have.” That was more honest than you intended to be. But it was literally all there was left for you. Everything else had been taken away now.

As far as showing your talents though, the place you’d been before here hadn’t had but three droids in all. So you’d spent more time working on their moisture farming equipment than anything. And that didn’t garner as much attention for quality of skill you were sure.

Perhaps it had something to do with this bounty hunter being the only organic being you’d had any semblance of a conversation with in who knew how many weeks too. But you looked back at him then, adding, “Though it’s odd you know. No matter what happens, I just keep wanting to press on. And I want to help others where I can. So I do.”

He seemed to be considering that for a long moment, before answering you again unexpectedly, “Then you have a will stronger than most that I’ve seen wither and disappear in this place.”

Yet you shook your head without thinking. “No, if I was really strong, I…” But you stopped yourself abruptly there as your senses finally came back to you. This man was not a sympathetic ear. You had to remember that. He was a member of Jabba’s inner circle.

But the hunter was smarter than you’d wanted to believe as he still finished that sentence for you. “If you were really strong, you wouldn’t be here at all?”

The bit of fear that rose in you with this shift in tone made you work quicker then, finishing the attachment of the new wire. What if he thought you had plans to escape? “I didn’t mean it that way. You don’t need to punish me.”

“I’m not a guard.” He answered in a flat tone though, almost as if you had finally insulted him. “What you do or think of doing down here doesn’t concern me. But if you ran and they assigned me to bring you back, then that would be another matter.” He warned.

“Understood.” You answered reflexively, the room somehow feeling a little colder to you then. But you were already done with the wiring repair, handing his helmet back to him as you looked away towards the floor.

And it was quiet as he pulled the helmet back on over his face. He didn’t linger either, turning then to walk back up the stairwell.

But his voice still reached you thereafter, with a purposeful “Thank you.” through the helmet.

Those two words surprised you so much too, leaving you only looking up again to watch his back and the flow of his tattered cape as he walked up and out of sight.

————————————

For a while things went back to normal after that. Or at least what you were forced to endure as your normal within these walls. But you did notice that more expensive types of droids had started to filter in over time, though still mixed in with the usual palace droid inventory.

You spoke to them all, genuinely interested in their roles and their problems as always so you could better help repair or upgrade them. But it was also more than that of course. You knew too well that regardless of programming they all still had their own little quirks and ways about them. To you they were each just as alive and unique as anything organic.

And it was through those conversations that you found many of these newer high end droids belonged to the few wealthy families on Tatooine. Word had indeed spread of your attentions to detail in this workshop and they now wanted their droids serviced at Jabba’s palace as well.

With a sad type of humor you could only wonder what kind of exorbitant fees Jabba may be charging those elites for your services while you still didn’t even have the privacy of a closing lavatory door.

“Oh dear,” The female voiced protocol droid you’d been repairing leg hydraulics on startled as you glanced up from your kneeling position on the floor in front of her. She wasn’t reacting to anything you’d done to her leg however, but rather your abrupt company entering the room.

That pasty white Twi’lek you now knew as Bib Fortuna was descending the staircase towards you, accompanied by a fearsome looking entourage.

Your eyes darted warily from Fortuna to that armored bounty hunter you hadn’t seen since the night you’d repaired his helmet.

You were standing now, seeing that they had two Gamorrean guards alongside them as well.

For the briefest moment you thought of what little blunt force trauma you could inflict on any of them with the wrench still in your hand. But you knew it’d be a futile effort.

Though honestly, if you had to die, blaster fire from the bounty hunter would be far preferable in comparison to the rancor pit. You could sometimes hear the echoes of its victims’ screams even through the walls and ground. And those times made for the worst sleepless nights.

“(Y/N), loyal droid artisan to our excellency Lord Jabba,” Bib Fortuna began in his usual formal tone.

Your eyebrows raised at the string of superlatives, which seemed an odd way to announce an execution.

Yet he continued with even more, “Our merciful and gracious Lord Jabba, has approved your immediate change in living quarters as well as monetary investments to improve your workspace in order to further properly provide for our new clientele.”

You were only able to stare at Fortuna though as your brain struggled to comprehend this seemingly…positive announcement? But it had to be a trick somehow. There had to be a catch. There always was.

But Fortuna waved one arm, just signaling the Gamorreans to come forward. As they did so, one had a ring of keys in his thick fingered, green hand as he snorted at you to raise your leg and ankle chain towards him.

You did so awkwardly. You were still in disbelief as the loud sound of the rusty tumblers moving once the guard had inserted and turned the key came just before the much louder sound of your opened shackle falling to the floor.

You were still so amazed at this development then that you almost didn’t hear Bib Fortuna’s next words as he actually addressed the droid next.

“Droid, are you RQ-X7, formerly owned by magistrate Dennhar?”

“Yes! I mean…no!” She fretted. “My designation is RQ-X7 protocol droid, translation specialist. But Master Dennhar is my owner. Your use of the word formerly indicates your lack of understanding of the term. I will happily define it for you. Formerly. Adverb, definition: in the past, previously. So you see this does not apply in your sentence as used, I-”

Fortuna was clearly done here as he cut her off then and there. “You are formerly the droid of magistrate Dennhar. You have officially been removed from his ownership as a correction towards his debts still owed to our Lord Jabba. You are here and now reassigned as droid assistant to (Y/N). She is now your mistress until Jabba deems otherwise.”

Droids weren’t often silenced, but she and yourself sure were in that moment as the guards and Fortuna turned to leave back up the stairs once more.

But the bounty hunter did not move.

Fortuna kept talking as he passed him. “Boba Fett will escort you to your new quarters. Upgrades to your workshop will begin in the morning.”

Boba Fett? So that was his name. But why was he even a part of this?

The hunter clearly waited for the others to be fully out of the stairwell. Only then did he finally speak. No expression visible of course through that dark beskar helmet. “I told you that others were starting to take notice of your work. But consider this my payment for before.”

“Your…I don’t even understand. Did you do all this?” You asked incredulously. Surely a simple bounty hunter wouldn’t have that kind of pull around here. No matter how good he was at collecting that overgrown slug’s targets.

With one gloved finger he tapped the side of his helmet in response. “It actually responds even faster now. You did the work, so here is your payment.”

“That…that was a five minute job! Are you serious?” Was this guy mental? You’d gotten your chain removed, a new hopefully more private room yet to be seen, and an actual droid partner of your very own just for changing out a single wire in some killer’s dinged up headgear?

And he actually chuckled in response. It wasn’t loud or too emotional, but it was a bit of a laugh you’d never heard and that brought you to silence all over again.

“We don’t get paid just for what we do. We get paid for knowing the right way to do it. Now come on. Both of you.” He said decisively.

——————————

Though there had been some sort of bizarre thaw between you here, Boba Fett still wasn’t the most talkative person, that was clear. But he at least tolerated a few more of your additional questions born out of emotion.

You found out that he sometimes visited the cantinas in the nearby towns. Looking for leads on new bounties mostly. But it also gave him opportunity to hear of other chatter. He’d been the one to inform Jabba that word of the palace suddenly having the best local droid service had spread, gaining the interest of those with even more credits to spend.

But the richest snobs still wouldn’t associate good service with just an unkempt slave working on their droids. You had to now seem higher end as well to be worth their money, thus these changes in your environment.

And when conversations in the throne room had turned to needing to send the magistrate a bit of a message by having something with monetary value taken from him, it was also Fett who had suggested a droid be confiscated. Because by using it as a helper for you, your production output would also be increased.

Yes, somehow from the last time you’d seen Boba until now, he’d been weaving webs that not only benefited you, but benefited Jabba’s profits as well. Which is the only reason any of it actually succeeded.

It really was so unbelievable.

And the hunter watched now as you’d gawked at your new living quarters. Still those befitting only a servant of course. But with an actual bed. And a separate little lavatory with a sonic shower. No more sink and washcloth only bathing. All with working doors this time too.

“Thank you,” You were sure you’d already said so several times now. But no matter his own motivations, this was the most you’d ever had in so very long.

Boba was leaning in your doorway by then. He never said you’re welcome, but his voice was smooth as he spoke of something else on his mind. “Do you remember that first night, when Jabba interrupted the auction to cancel the bid on your head? Do you know what he said then?”

You paused, looking at him. No, you did not know. In fact you had almost buried that moment under a multitude of other past traumas before the hunter had yanked it back to the surface with that question.

Yet Fett continued. “He said ‘that girl looks like she wants to burn me alive with her eyes’.” And before you could fathom a response to that revelation, Boba finished with, “You looked at me that way as well as they pulled you from the throne room. You’ve surprised Jabba thus far. But you haven’t surprised me. Keep that fire. You’re going to need it.”

There was no goodbye, no goodnight said as he then stepped back out into the corridor. The automatic door slid shut behind him after, leaving you standing alone in your room.

Alone except for RQ-X7 who shuffled immediately to your side then, no doubt unsure of the look on your face. “My…my mistress. Are you alright?”

———————————

It took a little time to adjust to your newer surroundings in the coming days. Even your clothes were better now though as new laundered ones were left for you each day.

The improvements to the workshop had really increased your output as well. And it wasn’t lost on you that you were very much still only lining the pockets of your captors with the work that you did. But as far as imprisonments went, things could be far worse. You enjoyed meeting all the newest droids, and the work passed the time. It was cathartic in a way.

But in the back of your mind you still did have plenty of time to think about other issues as well. Like the things that still didn’t add up about that bounty hunter and why your thoughts kept going back to him at all. Was he really an enemy or the closest you had to anyone becoming an ally?

He chose to help in getting you a new room and getting the droid as your companion. But why would he stick his neck out for you at all in a place like this?

It just didn’t make any sense. You didn’t perceive an altruistic nature within him at all. Quite the opposite really. But there was no logic in repeatedly stressing over things you had no power in either.

And as time went on each new day came and went with little further excitement. That was until the night you closed up the workshop and walked up to your quarters to find an actual dress laid out on your bed.

“What is that?” You’d asked in astonishment. Even if your provided clothing had gotten better, it’d still stayed practical so you could do your work. Just different combinations of shirts, vests, pants, and boots.

RQ-X7 seemed curious as well, but answered immediately. “By all appearances, Mistress, it is a full length column silhouette dress in a lovely color. I do believe this is a design by House of Muhket actually.”

“You…what?” You stared at her. “How do you know any of that?”

“Oh,” She went on cheerfully, “Before I was confiscated by our Lord Jabba from Master Dennhar, and before I was sold to Master Dennhar, I worked in a dress shop for Mistress Ambilore. And before that as a restaurant hostess with Master Klee-shawn, and before that as a school teacher at-”

“Okay, okay,” You interrupted her gently. You’d already seen all the transaction numbers left behind in her data drives to speak for the myriad of times she’d been traded off through the years. That list could last all night. “RQ, I understand all that. But I don’t understand why anyone would leave this here.”

And a designer dress no less if RQ was to be believed, which she always was.

You sat on the bed, but hesitated still to reach out and feel the rich colored fabric of the dress. Faded memories flared back up at the sight of it. It was so like the kinds of things your mother would have worn, or your older sisters. Something maybe even you would have worn on a fluke some days, if you hadn’t been the weird one wanting to work with your hands all the time and get dirty.

You hadn’t been born a servant or a slave like this. You’d only become one after everything else was torn away.

A sudden knock at the door then startled you and RQ both.

But it was only another droid’s voice bidding entrance.

“Of course, come in.” You answered.

It was one of the maids. She was a bit chiding actually too as she chittered on, “You aren’t dressed yet? How slow you are in anything outside of mending us! Now come on, you will be late! No one can be late!”

“Late to what?” You retorted as she tried to shoo you off the bed.

“Lord Jabba’s annual tribute feast and reverence celebration! The Khetanna sail barge and caravan leave for town in thirty minutes! You aren’t even showered! I can still see the grease on you!”

“It’s lubricant actually,” You’d had to deal with a seized up rat catcher droid earlier. But this all sounded ridiculous. You were supposed to get dressed up now to go play sycophant with the others?

The maid buzzed in annoyance as realization hit her. “That good for nothing sweeper unit. He was supposed to clean all the stairwells down to the basement and give you a note with your instructions earlier. Clearly he did not!”

“Oh, RC-945?” You answered. “I found him upside down and deactivated in the stairway this afternoon. He won’t listen to me on needing a new battery port. But he keeps losing charge. I plugged him into the battery tender, but it will be awhile until he reboots.”

“Nevermind him!” She fumed. “Just get up! Get presentable! I’ll not be dismantled for not rounding everyone up properly! Attendance is mandatory!”

————————————

Yet you were still so resistant of course. Even being trapped behind the palace walls for so long, the idea of being equally trapped and forced to keep quiet and play along in some kind of farce like this was not really any better.

RQ noted that it was possibly Jabba’s clients who may have expressed interest in meeting you. But you were fairly sure that it was more about Jabba’s ego needing to be stroked, having need of everyone’s presence tonight to worship him this publicly.

You had properly bathed and the maid and RQ had helped you get into the dress and some matching shoes. The maid had still been dissatisfied with the end result though, hurrying away briefly to return with lip and eye makeup, as well as accentuating jewelry she thought suitable.

You’d held your tongue through the process, letting her paint you up and refusing to look at your own reflection. Tonight was only about playing along just enough so that none of you would be punished.

By the time you did follow the others out of the palace, the sands of Tatooine were dark and cold. Your dress was long sleeved thankfully, but with the shoulders cut out regardless. You could feel the tiniest bits of sand caught in the wind as you kept close to RQ while you moved with the crowd being loaded onto the sail barge from the palace.

You could already hear music. A band playing as you’d moved quickly out to one of the railings at first opportunity. A mixture of cleaned up palace staff and high spending gangsters mingled about on deck as you did your best not to engage in any of the conversations. You could see multiple colors of drinks already in their hands long before the barge actually started to move.

After a while it did start to lurch towards town though. But then another palace worker that you recognized, one who was normally part of the kitchen staff, came up to you in a flustered mess.

“(Y/N), can I borrow RQ-X7 please?” He about begged. “There was just a skirmish down below and two of my waiters are overboard through the windows somewhere in the sands. I’ve got plates of hot hors d'oeuvres still to get out, not to mention these drinks everyone keeps asking for. Please! I need another droid before Fortuna notices that the catering is already backed up!”

“I…well it’s really up to her,” You stammered a little, logically knowing you had to help him, but also somewhat terrified of being left alone yourself in this situation.

“At Master Klee-shawn’s restaurant, besides hostessing, I was also very well known for being able to carry four trays of the bantha tartare when needed.” RQ-X7 spoke proudly.

“Go on then,” You motioned with one hand, knowing that was the end of that. It was the moral thing to do though.

“Thank you! Thank you!” The kitchen worker bowed his head a little. “Enjoy the rest of the night! You look nice by the way!” He added before rushing away with RQ.

“Uh…thanks?” You mumbled. Then quite alone even with the party ramping up all around you.

———————————

Some time later you recognized the low lights and small domed buildings of Mos Espa in the distance as the barge came to rest near the city’s edge in the darkness.

And you’d just been thinking to yourself if you should go check on RQ after all, or at least head somewhere below deck to stay out of this cold when you saw movement out the corner of your eye.

“First time you’ve seen the sky in a while isn’t it?” That cool voice came from the familiar battle scarred helmet as the bounty hunter stepped up to the railing beside you.

Your chest tensed as you looked into that black eye shielding now staring right back at you. You would have said something about the silence in which he moved, but sneaking up on others was a lot of his everyday life wasn’t it?

“I’m surprised you even knew who I was with what they’ve done to me here.” You frowned, though glancing at him fully as well with him now so close. He was always in that same long sleeved white flightsuit, or survival suit maybe, that covered his body from his neck to his boots. With the banged up chest plate on top, his shoulder plates, gun belt, gloves, and gauntlets. And the little half cape with the tattered edges. And was that a jet pack he was sporting too tonight?

“Bounty hunters don’t have formal attire, huh? Just formal jet packs?” You added when he didn’t immediately respond.

But he answered your initial question first. “I recognized you because you stand and walk the same way no matter what you wear. Everyone does. Masks don’t faze me.” He said, looking right at your face still with those last words.

This took you aback a little more. Was your makeup the mask that he was referring to? Or was it something else he thought you were hiding? You weren’t sure what he meant, but again you couldn’t ignore why he kept taking the time to interact with you alone like this.

“And no. No other attire for me.” He responded to your jet pack quip then. “This armor only leaves my possession on the day that I die. It was my father’s before me. It’s part of our legacy.”

You were surprised there too as he’d never given a personal detail like that before. You weren’t even too sure if it was safe to acknowledge the comment before you finally asked though. “Is it Mandalorian made?” You wouldn’t ask if he really was one, or if they’d stolen it. But who else would craft with beskar alloy like that?

“It is.” He said just as plainly.

You stood there, letting that knowledge hang over you a moment. But you weren’t daring enough to probe his lineage any further tonight. “This planet collects a bit of everything doesn’t it?” You instead said quietly.

And maybe the two of you just would have stood there in mutual silence a while longer. This odd pull towards one another keeping you here, but neither of you open enough to go any further.

But a growing whine of engines erupted from somewhere high above, but distinct and closer by the second as you recognized and reacted immediately.

It was TIE fighters incoming.

They streaked across the sky as you stumbled back as if to run.

But you couldn’t take more than a single step before a vice like grip locked onto one of your wrists, and Fett moved just as instantaneously so your stomach was then pressed up to the railing and your back was against his chest.

“Stop it.” He hissed in your ear, his grip almost painful then as he grabbed your other arm as well to ensure control over you. “You show you’re that afraid and they’ll all assume where your allegiance really lies.”

Your heart was pounding, the shock of both the Empire’s fighters suddenly strafing the sky, as well as your realization of just how fast and strong the hunter really was now overwhelming you in this moment.

You were trembling to your own horror. But you couldn’t stop yourself, you didn’t know that the pain of your memories associated with those damned ships could still be this raw.

But Boba’s voice remained a growl in your ear as he kept you up against him. “Listen to me. I already know who you are. I know that your father was governor of New Mernoir on your homeworld. That your family was executed and your city destroyed because of the choices he made. I know all of it. But these people do not. Do you understand? Those ships aren’t here for you.”

You were blinking back tears as the TIE fighters made another pass overhead. But this time their flyover was accompanied by fireworks and cheering from all around.

They were celebrating. It was all for show. Of course the Empire was allied with Jabba. You knew that objectively. So they must be here to pay tribute to him as well. But you didn’t expect it, you weren’t ready.

“I won’t run again. Let me go, Boba.” You breathed after another long moment, trying to force yourself to relax even though you were still trembling.

Yet he did let go of your arms as soon as you’d asked him to, but he didn’t move out from behind you, your back still supported against him. “The imperial cruiser wasn’t supposed to arrive in orbit until at least tomorrow.” He spoke lowly then, enough so that only you could hear him in the continued noise of the party. “I didn’t know the Empire would be here tonight either.”

But that was all insignificant now wasn’t it? So why was he even talking about their schedule? The real damage was in everything he’d just admitted to you moments before. He knew who you were. Was this the end then? Was your running over at last?

“Why…” You had to ask after another long hesitation. That wetness was still threatening your eyes even as more fireworks continued, the bright colors popping and casting shadows on you both. “Why, if you knew who I was this whole time, why haven’t you turned me in yet? You’re with the Empire too aren’t you?”

“I’m not with anyone.” He corrected you with a little harshness, as if the placement of his own loyalties was a personal sticking point. “But I work for those who can afford me. And there’s no bounty on rebels thought already dead.” He just continued, cold but truthful. But what he asked next, you could tell by the even more serious shift in his tone that he was warning you to not even think about lying to him.

For the first time, you imagined this was the real voice that all those bounties heard. Maybe the last voice they ever heard as he asked you in that new tone. “But are you still one of them?”

The contrast was so stark. The people mulling all around you, drinking and laughing, oblivious to your heartbeat pounding in your ears as your cold hands now gripped the railing in front of you even as your back still rest against the hunter’s chest.

“I never was,” Your words left you in a hushed tone, tears finally starting down your face with these cowardly things you’d never gotten to admit to anyone. You were never one of the rebels. “And I hated him for so long for choosing that life for us.” You kept on, unable to stop then. “My father convinced everyone else that it was the right thing to do. He put our own money into that base. The base that our city got destroyed because of. Children and everyone else burned to the ground because of him.”

You were born into a noble family, daughter of an influential governor living on a sprawling estate with your mother and all your older sisters. Publicly, your family and the wealthy city they governed all pledged yourselves to the Empire. You remembered imperial officers, Moffs, and sometimes even admirals strolling through your home during their visits.

But beneath that proud surface, your father kept saying that the Empire had taken too much, that they were harming too many. Only then had you started to know fear. Not understanding why he would endanger all of you for principles alone and to supposedly protect others you would never even meet on other worlds.

The rebel base he’d been at the forefront of the creation of, was a den of spies and a staging place for their equipment and the ships they had started to build. All hidden within your city.

“But…” Even with all that anger you’d had towards him, when the nightmare finally came true you would have done anything to have saved any of them. “I wasn’t there when they needed me.” You were already an apprentice by then, under a brilliant woman that your father was a patron to.

She’d taught you your trade, everything you knew about droids. You’d pestered her from childhood until she’d taken you on. Everyone thought you so odd for that too. On your name alone you could have just kicked up your feet, been some other politician’s wife when you were ready and never had to work a day.

But by chance, that hobby of yours was the only way you’d lived. “I wasn’t home when the soldiers came.” You chuckled to Boba in kind of a mixed sound of disgust and regret. “I was out buying parts for the droid maker that I apprenticed for. I was out goofing off while they were lining my family up and shooting them.” The Empire had been sure to release news of the traitors and their swift executions to all media afterward. The subsequent bombing of the city was then blamed on the Rebel Alliance as well.

But you’d been there on the ground. There was no resistance, only slaughter. The x-wings the rebels had been making weren’t even operational yet. The only thing in the air that day had been the TIE fighters and bombers.

And you’d seen up close and personal what their laser fire did to buildings and bodies. You’d run, badly injured yourself, but far enough on the edge of the city to escape to the wetlands unlike so many others. You’d laid for hours concealed in the cold mud, pretending to be dead as you heard the ships pass again and again striking anything that still moved.

“They died for something they believed in. All I ever did was run away and never look back.” You confessed with that self loathing evident in your tone. “That’s all there is to tell.”

But Boba Fett still wasn’t someone you could fully predict. When you’d said all your peace and the silence loomed between you again, he shifted once more. No longer behind you then, but beside you as his helmet tilted to look you in the face once more.

“My father was killed right in front of me when I was a boy.” He said in a solemn tone. “And it still made no difference for me to be there. Because all I could do was watch his body fall. So believe this from someone who knows, no amount of guilt will do anything to help them now. You’re better off to let go before it eats what’s left of you.”

Your eyes widened at his own confession. Maybe not even at the cruelty of the image though, to imagine a boy having to experience that. Because what violence could really surprise you anymore? It was all anyone seemed capable of. The Empire, the rebels, the syndicates, pirates, smugglers….it was just pure survival in this galaxy. Predators and prey in a vicious cycle.

Would it really be so wrong to not even care anymore? To just live for the sake of living? You could ask him later how he’d found out about you. It was unimportant really, trivial compared to all else you were now feeling.

“I guess we have more in common than we should then,” You said, trying to wipe what was left of your tears away. “I’m sorry, Boba.”

“It was a long time ago.” He answered plainly, in a way that also seemed to close that subject again for now.

After another bit of silence where you continued to gather yourself, you finally sighed, asking him softly. “So do you want to get a drink with me then? Something really strong preferably?” You weren’t afraid of him anymore after this. He already knew what you were and he could do with that what he wished. You had nothing else to hide.

You were also choosing to not care right now and there was something so freeing about that thought.

“It’d be less crowded in one of the cantinas.” He answered though, still watching you carefully.

You smirked at him. “Then are you giving me permission for some shore leave?”

“If you’re with me, it’ll be fine.” He said calmly, only giving a good glance around, assessing the surroundings, before moving away from the railing to have you follow him.

——————————

Of course he knew all the entrances and exits to the sail barge by heart. In only a few minutes you were standing on the sands of Tatooine again. Albeit this time with the bounty hunter Boba Fett striding at your side.

Your shoes weren’t as practical as his boots, your feet sinking into the sand at times.

“I’d go barefoot if I didn’t have a pretty good idea of the kinds of waste they dumped out here.” You mumbled.

But after he had to slow yet again as softer sand tried to twist your shoes right off your feet, he offered you his hand.

When you looked ahead to see Boba’s outstretched glove, this armored hired gun silhouetted in the starlight as he waited for you, something unexpected happened.

You actually smiled. This was crazy, but it was exactly what you needed right now. “You know what…on second thought, you were right when you said this was the first time I’d seen the sky since they brought me to the palace. But it’s also the first time I’ve really gotten to use my legs since then too. What’s a little dirty sand in the scheme of things?”

Your dress had a slit up either side. It allowed you this movement as you did take off your shoes then, holding them both by their straps in one hand before breaking into a run across the small dunes. “Come on, hunter!”

“What are you-” Boba’s surprise was obvious.

It would have been hilarious really if you weren’t so focused on still not busting your ass as you ran for the buildings in the distance.

You used to race your sisters through the courtyards at home all the time. It’d been a whole other world then, a whole other life.

You wanted to feel that rush again, if even for just a moment as you ran as hard and fast as your out of practice body would allow. You never looked back for Boba, there was no question to you that he’d come.

But by the time you reached the beginnings of the real streets of Mos Espa and all those little beige colored buildings, you were panting and trying to catch your breath as a cramp threatened to overtake your side.

Yet you were still smiling, panting and smiling as you straightened back up at the sound of small jets overhead before Boba landed in front of you.

“Jetpack is cheating,” You half laughed, half coughed, taking another deep breath.

“Was all that really necessary?” He sort of deadpanned.

“It could be months again before I get to see the outside. Have a heart, hunter.” You smirked, still breathing a bit hard as you brushed the sand off your feet before sliding your shoes back on.

He shook his head, clearly unamused. But he still waited for you before walking on. “If you’re done, I’ll show you where you can get that drink you wanted.”

——————————

This bar was called the Sanctuary. He mentioned it was newer, somewhat more high end, relatively at least in comparison to some of the others.

Which maybe would have been flattering that he tried to take you somewhere a little safer, a little cleaner before you realized every single patron was still staring up at you as the the two of you entered together.

Well, more accurately they were all staring at Boba as you just followed him to an open table in a corner. You also noticed how he clearly chose to sit with his back to the wall, facing the rest of the cantina for a good vantage point as you slid onto the curved seat beside him.

After a few moments everyone else seemed to go back to their own eating, drinking, and gambling at some game tables in the center of the room. But the chatter was noticeably still a bit lower, down from the rowdier volume it’d been right at your arrival.

But Boba didn’t seem to care, and you looked back to him as he spoke to you. “Are you hungry?”

You were actually. But was that okay? Was this okay? How long before he had to take you back to the palace? “I am.” You admitted. “But do we have time to eat?”

“The barge won’t move again until dawn. And maybe not even then depending on how drunk they all get. Order whatever you want.” Boba responded.

Yet you saw his helmet turn at the approach of a rather elegant looking female Twi’lek.

You caught yourself staring at her, her expensive dress and jewelry such a contrast to the slave girls and their revealing little outfits Jabba forced them to parade around in at the palace.

“Boba, my dear bounty hunting friend,” She spoke so cleanly as she came up to your table. Her hands were clasped together as she smiled warmly. “As happy as I always am to have the patronage of Jabba’s inner circle, you know we don’t normally see you here at the Sanctuary. So I have to ask you one thing. Are you here for anyone in particular tonight?”

Even if the room hadn’t gone fully silent again, you could tell all eyes were on your table once more.

“I’m not working tonight, Fwip.” Boba’s voice was a little deeper, a little more guarded with her you noticed in comparison to how he’d been speaking to you moments before. “My friend wants something to eat. Any problem with that?”

The Twi’lek didn’t miss a beat though, her smile really growing then as she announced immediately for the room, “He isn’t working tonight! Everyone carry on!”

There was almost an audible cheer through the cantina, everyone going back to their festivities then.

But she still gave him a look afterward, putting a hand on her hip as she spoke lower. “Thank you, Boba. You know how much less money they spend once they get rattled. Enjoy your night. Happy to see you relaxing for once too. It’s a good look. After all, we are the most romantic cantina on Tatooine you know.” She grinned to herself at that. “Self proclaimed of course. But who’s going to go on a date at the Mos Eisley one right? They don’t even wash their glasses you know.”

She clapped her hands to get the attention of the wait staff then. “Some drinks and a menu for the best bounty hunter in the Outer Rim and his lovely lady friend please!”

You waited until she’d fully walked away before you dared laugh a little. “So I can’t tell if you’re pissed or not behind that helmet, but I’m having a great time.”

“You’re too easily amused,” He grumbled after a moment.

“It’s a coping mechanism that’s carried me far.” You happily agreed.

———————————

From as low as you’d felt earlier with the shock of those TIE fighters screaming overhead, was about as relaxed as you felt now. Obviously the alcohol helped, but you really hadn’t had too much.

Boba was still scanning the room periodically, keeping watch as you enjoyed the last of your bantha steak.

He didn’t eat or drink much, sitting with his legs spread and only occasionally lifting his helmet just enough to take a swig from his glass or have a taste of your steak after you’d absolutely insisted because the marinade on it was just that good.

“Do any of them know what you really look like under there?” The alcohol did finally embolden you enough to ask before you took another drink.

“Not in this town, no.” He answered simply. “But it’s a little more complicated than would probably make sense right now.”

“But you showed me your face.” You responded, just looking at him with a soft interest. “How was that different?”

“You’re too young to remember the clone wars very well aren’t you?” You noticed his voice had gotten a little quieter again.

“I can’t be that much younger than you.” You defended.

“Maybe. But I know you still don’t remember them well, or else you’d know why it mattered. Let’s just say many now working for the Empire remember those times very well. And that’s why it’s better for business that I keep my helmet on when in public. At least until all those old ranks are finally dead.”

It’d be too hypocritical for you of all people not to understand the benefits of anonymity. And you decided this wasn’t worth asking any further about right now as you focused on finishing your drink instead. But an abrupt curse had you immediately back at attention.

“Dank farrik, it’s that idiot.” Boba growled while staring towards the door.

Of course, sheer instinct had you turning your head to look as well. But you weren’t sure which ‘idiot’ he was talking about as you saw a tall man stride in with an even taller Wookie beside him.

The strangers seemed to be heading straight for the gambling tables, but you saw the man stop dead in his tracks the moment he happened to glance towards your table.

Boba’s hand moved slightly under the table as well in reaction. No one would have noticed except for you, being right beside him as he unholstered his pistol to hold it against his thigh.

Well shit. You were stressed all over again now. You didn’t know what was about to happen, but you were sure you wanted no part of it.

Both the man and the Wookie were walking towards you though, once the man had thumped the Wookie on the arm and pointed your way.

“Boba,” You whispered, wanting some kind of instruction here.

“You’ll be fine.” He said before they were in earshot. But you could tell he was indeed back in ‘working’ mode now.

“Boba! Buddy old pal!” The man shocked you, being obnoxiously loud really as he opened his arms in greeting. But you thought he was also very much trying to broadcast the lack of weapons in his own hands at that moment. Yet you easily saw the large pistol on his gunbelt as well. “Didn’t expect to see you here!” He continued with a grin that seemed wholly fake to you. “In fact it’s most of the reason we hit up Mos Espa instead of Mos Eisley tonight!”

But he finally lowered his voice a little as he went on more privately. “Of course me and Chewie knew the deeper pockets are always in Mos Espa too. Didn’t want to miss Jabba’s party and clearing the tables a little easier once the alcohol had been flowing awhile am I right?”

“Jabba told you not to return to Tatooine until you’d made his money back, Solo.” Boba warned, and honestly his voice sounded like daggers of ice. It was bone chilling.

Yet that blunt hostility seemed to sail right over the stranger’s head. “See that’s the thing, the Empire’s been setting up new blockades all around the system. I need a little more time to find the backdoors. But the Falcon’s going to get us there, as soon as we get a little money going for a new shield generator anyway. Lost another one scuffling with some pirates outside of Bespin last week. Lando’s really letting the airspace around there go to pot.”

“The Falcon is trash. Maybe you’d be better off moisture farming for the next fifty years to pay off all your other failed promises, smuggler.” Boba cut back.

You didn’t know what kind of ship the Falcon might be. But Boba’s comment was seemingly equivalent to insulting their mother or child as the Wookie immediately growled and moved as if to yank the table away from you both.

But it was the stranger that jumped in between as you saw Boba holding his pistol aimed at the Wookie’s chest then from under the table.

“Chewie! Come on, just a little ribbing between friends! That’s all it is.” The man laughed forcefully. But you heard him berate the Wookie even more in a lower tone, “If Fwip throws us out we aren’t making any money tonight! Think Chewie, think! We already struck out at the last stop. You wanna be the one to tell Jabba we can’t make any kind of payment this month!?”

The Wookie was still obviously not okay with any of this. But somehow he did seem to restrain himself the more the man talked him down.

Solo then looked slightly relieved as he looked back to Boba. “I will get Jabba’s money back. But uh, it might be better if you didn’t tell him I was here just yet. I seriously didn’t think you’d leave guard duty on the barge tonight. Didn’t know you had a social life, Fett.”

With that, this bizarre man offered a flirty smile to you, and an open hand as if to shake yours. “Han Solo by the way. Professional smuggler, best pilot in the galaxy, and captain of the Millennium Falcon. The hairy guy here is my brother from another and co-pilot, Chewbacca.”

You looked at Han’s hand with suspicion and then back up at his face as he transitioned to a little smirk instead while he glanced back to Boba. “She’s actually loyal to you, huh? Nothing wrong with that. That’s rare these days, you know. Well good for you, Fett.” But Han kept rambling as he continued to the Wookie. “And to think he can get a date without even showing his face. Women love mystery and fixer uppers I guess, yeah?”

Boba stood up then. And Solo instantly tensed as you saw the smuggler’s hand drop to his gun belt just as quick. The Wookie was growling again and Boba still had his hand on his own pistol though it was currently aimed at the ground.

“Boys…” You heard the Twi’lek they’d both called Fwip clear her throat and you realized the music had completely stopped. “Why don’t we agree to disagree for the sake of the holiday? Han darling, and Chewbacca, you’re as welcome as anyone for a try at our table games. But Boba was also minding his own business before you arrived. Let him pay his tab so he can be on his way to enjoy the rest of his night.”

Yet she addressed Boba as well, all too aware that all three of them were crucial in either having this be done or blow up entirely. “And Boba, we all appreciate your restraint tonight. There’s a reason you’re one of Jabba’s favorites. Deadly, but not a loose cannon. You kept your word that you weren’t working tonight and for that I thank you greatly.”

There was one more long moment of tension after she had finished speaking. But Han was the first to back away, raising his hands again but never taking his eyes off Boba as Han and Chewbacca then both backed away to the gambling tables at last.

Fwip approached you then as Boba holstered his pistol to reach into his belt pockets with his other hand for some credits that he then handed to her.

She smiled at you both with a nod as you stood. You could tell Boba never took his full attention off Han and Chewbacca though even as one of his arms went lightly behind your waist to guide you out. He still kept his other hand free to reach his gun if needed.

It was a long walk to the door, but you eventually reached it. Boba kept his body between you and the perceived threat the entire time, until you were at last back out on the street.

You were both heading back towards the dunes after, and there was silence for a little while before you were the first one to speak again.

“Hey, I obviously don’t know the backstory on that guy and the Wookie. But forget it.” Things had been oddly nice before they’d shown up. And you had every day after this to go back to your room and your workshop in the palace alone. You didn’t want to end this night on that note.

“Solo’s only skills are lying and running.” Boba muttered though, clearly still agitated. “And he’s not even smart enough to get out of his own way. It’s inevitable that Jabba’s going to decide to cut those losses off, and it’ll be me that has to do it.”

Okay, what part of forget the smuggler and his Wookie for at least right now was not translating here?

“Boba.” You said, stopping on one of the dunes now that you were far enough from the streets, but not yet in good view of the sail barge. “I don’t know when I’ll ever see the outside again. So I want to thank you for all of this, really. I didn’t expect that I’d even know how to have fun anymore.”

“Yeah.” He responded a bit reflexively, but it was like you were finally pulling him back from his anger and distraction over the whole scene in the cantina.

It was as if he just remembered the two of you were out alone here as well as he looked around. “We really shouldn’t stop though. There’s still the wildlife or even the Tuskens. All this activity could draw them in to defend their territory.”

“And then you could just jetpack us away,” You contended quietly. But in all reality he was right that it wasn’t safe out here alone. Yet you wanted a more personal goodbye. Once you got back to the barge, you’d need to go check on RQ-X7 you knew. And then he’d disappear and everything would likely just go back to normal.

You were looking at him rather intently as those thoughts ran through your mind. And you decided to take the risk. You really didn’t have anything to lose. “Can I at least tell you goodnight with your helmet off for a moment?” You’d only ever seen his entire face that one time before. And honestly you hadn’t memorized it very well then. You hadn’t realized what the future could bring with this guy or why anything about him might matter to you later.

The hesitation was visible in his body language though as he questioned your judgment. “You remember that you’ve been drinking, don’t you?”

You smiled a little. “Not enough to make me do anything I don’t already want to. Just enough to add a little liquid courage.”

“….Are you certain?” He asked and honestly the sincerity in his voice was rather refreshing.

What times these were when a man could kill without thought in one moment and yet still be so concerned about another person’s consent in the next. What a damned walking contradiction this guy was.

“Yes. Now come on before some sandworm or something eats us both.” You taunted lightly.

“One big enough to swallow us both, you’d feel the vibrations of its approach first.” He murmured, still stalling you thought before he finally raised his hands to the sides of his helmet.

He slid it off and you could tell from the way his eyes narrowed briefly, he had to adjust his sight back to the limited star and moonlight from above as he looked at you without the visor amplifying everything for him.

“Long time no see,” You smiled at him, trying to focus on all his features this time. Short black hair, dark skin, and a nice jawline. He was actually pretty pleasant to look at.

Even if you thought your signals had been fairly obvious, your adrenaline started to ramp up as you moved your body and face closer to his. Would he pull away at the last moment? Would he tell you to stop?

You did hesitate with your lips so near his, giving him that last chance to change his mind before you pressed in all the way to kiss him.

But his lips moved as soon as yours touched them, opening slightly to deepen it as you felt his arm move back around your waist.

One of your hands moved onto his chest plate as he pressed in harder against you soon enough, opening his mouth further. You could really taste him then, a hint of the alcohol he’d had, but mostly just him as he kissed you again, and then even deeper after that.

Oh. This was not at all what you’d expected. It was even better. He’d been pent up. He’d wanted this. That was evident you realized as your hand trailed up from his chest and neck, and onto his scalp, instigating a needful sound from him as you tugged at his hair.

“You should have told me,” You breathed, breaking the most recent kiss to look him in the eyes again.

“It was my problem, not yours.” He whispered back, yet moving to kiss your neck then.

You drew in a breath as he sucked harshly at your neck before his teeth scraped lightly against your skin.

“Is this something Jabba would punish us for?” You asked honestly, though really not giving a damn about that big slug in this moment. But it could definitely be a future problem. And you didn’t want anything to happen to Boba on your account.

“Never quite tested that,” Boba answered a little hastily, kissing your lips again, and then opening his mouth to let his tongue taste you once more as his hand moved from your waist down to the slit in your dress and then beneath it.

His roaming glove felt so good on your thigh though and all the sudden you were wishing he’d drop his helmet out of his other hand to use both hands fully.

He spoke in between more kisses, still thinking out loud, “But Jabba always wants control. He might see this as a way to further assure my loyalty…by using you as a reward for me.”

His hand under your dress had moved to your bottom, squeezing it harshly as he kept on. “Yet that also could be dangerous for you. If he ever thought he needed to punish me…he could hurt you instead.”

“He owns me either way. What does it matter?” You argued, a little frustrated now of how protected he really was by his outfit. There wasn’t a bit of skin you could get to except for his face and head.

“Easy to say that now,” Boba breathed, seeming to try and regain his focus as your hands moved all around over his suit. “We’re too exposed out here. If you actually do want this armor off…you need to say so.”

He was clearly between a rock and a hard place. He wanted to continue, but refused to just assume that you wanted the same.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” You said with confidence however. “I do want this. Show me where we need to go.”

His hesitation might still be there, but it was brief. “To my ship.” He said. “I don’t want to call it in though. Too many might ask questions of why I’d be traveling tonight if they see it in the air. It’s parked near the palace. I can take you to it.”

“Okay,” You agreed, flustered for more than one reason as you watched him slide his helmet back on before picking you up into his arms.

“Hold onto me,” he instructed.

But he didn’t have to tell you twice. You weren’t the biggest fan of heights anyway. And as his jetpack ignited, you closed your eyes to bury your head against him.

It wasn’t a long flight, but it was cold and it was windy. You were chilled by the time your feet had touched the ground again. But you realized you were now back beside the palace. A ship was there as Boba walked towards it. He pressed something on one of his gauntlets and a door dropped down to make a walkway leading inside.

“This is the Slave 1,” Boba said even as you saw him still scanning the surroundings to make sure you had no unwanted company.

But you followed him inside rather quickly, letting him close the door to seal the ship back behind you both.

The lights inside were dim, but he took your hand, leading you easily through. “It’s an old ship, but the closest I have left to a home.”

As you moved through a corridor you came to a small ladder. He motioned towards it. “Up here. You go, I’ll follow you so you don’t slip in those shoes.”

“Yeah, I’m about done with these,” You commented, kicking them off at the base of the ladder instead. “Or maybe you just want to enjoy the view by going behind me instead.”

You actually got a small chuckle out of him at that as you headed up the ladder and he followed.

Once up at that next level, the ceiling was very low. You had to watch your head as you waited for him.

“Space was always at a premium on these older ships,” He said as he joined you. There was a storage drawer he then opened, sliding off his helmet again before he placed it inside. You had found his small sleeping area off to the side. A mattress really suited for just one person was inlaid into the metal floor as you sat on it to wait for him.

But you decided you might as well appreciate the show as he took off his jetpack and cape next, and then one piece of armor after another as well as all his weapons. He laid each carefully in the storage drawers. He then removed his gloves and boots. When he was down to just the white flightsuit as you called it in your own mind, he unzipped it, exposing his chest before he pulled his arms out and slid the whole thing down so that he could step out of it.

The assortment of scars across his bare skin wasn’t all that unexpected. You were sure every single one had a deeper story. But it was also interesting how clearly the worst ones followed only where the gaps in his armor would have been. He was a little more muscular than you’d expected as well. Yet it’d been hard to get a good idea of his real body type under all that gear. But you liked what you were now seeing.

“So that’s what kind of underwear bounty hunters wear, huh?” You asked in respect to his black briefs.

“I’ve tried going bare, it chafes the skin too much,” He retorted lightly.

“Maybe that codpiece of yours was too tight,” You teased back.

“Now you’re getting a little bit of attitude I hadn’t heard before.” He commented. “Getting more confident now that you’re getting something that you want?”

You smirked. It was a bit of nerves at play too of course. You didn’t want to disappoint him after everything had already gone this far.

But his interest hadn’t seemed to have waned at all as he moved onto the bed with you now. You tried to look more at his eyes instead of the bulge beneath his underwear as he began kissing you again. You didn’t want to psyche yourself out with your repeating astonished thoughts that this man that you wanted could actually want you back.

His hands were roaming over your dress by then. But you didn’t have to show him anything. He found the zipper and the clasps that were holding it closed quickly enough.

You were expectant, waiting for him to slide it from your shoulders as he moved his lips to your ear and asked you once more.

“Are you sure? I can still stop.” He promised you, even as he leaned in to suck at your neck again.

“Don’t stop,” You answered back to him though, pulling at your own dress in clear signal to him that you wanted it the rest of the way off.

“As you wish.” He conceded easily, then raising back up to slide your dress from your shoulders as you pulled your arms out of it.

The dress had had a built in bra, so there was nothing left to cover your chest once it was removed. He paused with an approving glance, looking down at your breasts.

But he wasn’t ready to give them his full attention just yet. He wanted the whole dress out of the way as he pulled it over your hips as well and then down your legs.

The soft fabric slid away easily as he tossed it aside and away from the bed. You now had nothing on but the underwear covering between your legs and the jewelry on your wrists and neck that they’d given you at the palace.

He didn’t miss your own scars either then. Burns is what they were. The only way out of the destruction of New Mernoir had been through.

You were both damaged. But this was your truth. This was what you really were.

“What part of you is most sensitive?” He only asked, with his hands now moving to your breasts and the erect nipples the cold air had given you.

It was hard to answer him though as he grasped your breasts, kneading them against his rough palms before he toyed with your nipples as well.

Couldn’t it all be sensitive? You wondered. “Just go where you want,” You said honestly, but maybe not that helpfully. “It all feels good.”

“No one is that simple,” he quipped back, just before he leaned back down to kiss and then suck each breast individually.

You could feel that growing hardness of his pressing you now though from within his underwear. It scraped against you and you didn’t know how long you could really put up with the foreplay honestly before you’d want that barrier gone in order to feel him fully.

“So were you thinking of something like this ever since I came to the palace?” You asked, the back and forth talk actually making you more aroused since he was normally so quiet otherwise.

He glanced up from his work on your chest as his hand ran down to the side of your underwear, toying with it. “I’m not that presumptuous,” he said. “But the more I saw, the closer I wanted to get.”

His fingers moved around, feeling over your underwear as you opened your legs up somewhat at the touch. His eyebrows raised as he felt that little bit of wetness already wicking through the fabric and onto his fingertips as well.

“And how long have you been wanting to see under my armor? Just tonight?“ He asked as his fingers pressed you even harder through your underwear.

You squirmed. “I didn’t think anyone in the palace could even see me this way. But I was curious about you. I might have acted sooner if I knew this was possible.”

He smirked, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained. You sell yourself short in many things I think.”

He was still watching your reaction though as he did pull your underwear down then. Gently to your ankles before slipping it off your feet and onto the floor with your dress.

“If you don’t like something, tell me.” Boba said, you not really knowing what he was about to do before he scooted down the bed enough that his face was now even with your navel. He glanced back up at you briefly before he began kissing a trail further down your abdomen, even across the scars.

His hands were strong as they moved to hold your thighs open and you felt his warm breath between your legs just before he began to kiss there too. Lightly at first, letting you get used to his mouth pressing there at all before his tongue moved out against your clit suddenly.

You squirmed with a little gasp and you could feel him smile against you.

“Was that the sweet spot then?” He asked headily, before licking you again and then softly sucking that same little hub of nerve endings.

Your hand grasped a little desperately into his short hair, but he seemed to enjoy the pull. As he started to kiss and suck you harder, his tongue also working the area periodically to vary the sensation.

It felt amazing, but over stimulating at the same time as you let out a short moan and your thighs tried to close on him.

He chuckled, easily strong enough to stop you. But he eased up on his mouth movements then long enough that you could recover and gather yourself.

“You are very sensitive. Has no one taken the time down here before?” He asked with a little hint of disbelief.

“No.” You answered honestly. It’s not like you’d had many real relationships. More just some one off experiences here or there as you were growing up. But once you’d lost everyone and everything after the Empire’s attack, there’d been no time to trust anyone else either when on the run.

“You’ve been wasting time on the wrong kinds of partners then.” He said almost gently, licking you again in test as you squirmed strongly beneath him once more. He rubbed your thighs after that though, just having you relax again. “Alright, we can try that another time, yeah? It’s too much right now and that’s fine.”

As he pulled himself back up to look at you again his hand slid between your legs instead. “How about this?” He asked as his fingers moved side to side over your clit, firm but not harsh before stroking vertically after. Your own arousal provided the lubrication for him to gently start moving one fingertip and then two in and out your entrance as he continued.

“Is that your trigger finger then?” You taunted, spreading your legs wider again as you arched into that pressure gladly.

He raised an eyebrow, but was looking amused at your dirty joke as he flicked your entrance briefly by pulling one of his fingers indeed as if he were squeezing a trigger. “That one is. It’s good to be multipurpose isn’t it?”

“No complaints here.” You agreed.

And Boba leaned forward to begin kissing you again at that while his hand continued to work between your legs.

You were growing wetter and wetter as he slid one finger fully in and out and then gradually a second as you started to buck your hips against that movement.

“Are you ready then?” His voice was sounding a little raspier there. He clearly was getting enthralled himself now, wanting to proceed to what you’d both come here for.

“Yes.” You almost pleaded, your hands moving down to his underwear that was still between the two of you. It needed to be off and gone right now.

He was on his knees in between your legs as he helped you pull the fabric away. He was already so very hard as his manhood sprung easily free. He shifted to slide the underwear off his legs, throwing it aside before he let you have that moment to fully look at him.

And you let your hand enclose around his shaft as you took the sight in, stroking its full length as you indeed appreciated the privilege of seeing him fully bared this way. His body was clearly strong, but vulnerable to you now at the very same time.

No mask, no armor, just skin to skin as he started to thrust gently into your hand.

He was passionate and thorough. He’d already taken this much time with you. But maybe that’s just how he was in all aspects of his life. Perhaps to him, any job worth doing, really was worth doing right. He was already an infamous hunter, yet maybe an even better lover?

You hoped this wouldn’t be the only time you’d get to find out as you pulled him a little to guide his member to your still wet entrance.

And he let you have control, only pushing in slowly once you let go of his length in order to grab his hips instead, pulling him in more and more.

You felt yourself stretching. There was some little moments of pain, but he was also being so careful. Every time you winced a little, he stopped. Letting your body get used to each further inch, one at a time until at last you felt his abdomen press nearly flush to yours.

He was now sheathed in you and the pressure alone felt amazing. Like it was always supposed to be this way. As if your body was meant for this very moment.

He was affected too by having you fully around hm. His breathing had changed as he pulled your legs up so that your ankles were now resting on his shoulders. He held your legs apart that way, himself kneeling on the bed in front of you and with his own legs also partly spread as he began to thrust inside of you.

Slow at first of course, letting your wetness lubricate his whole length, so no skin dragged or pulled before he began to pump his hips faster.

You moaned. Every time he was at that deepest point again, your toes wanted to curl and you couldn’t help but feel that you wanted to call out to him. Did he know the feeling was now like little shots of electricity going through your body? Making your muscles contract outside of your control as he began pumping in and out of you with his hands still holding your legs up and spread lewdly before him.

“You like that?” He growled, giving in to the pleasure himself as he gradually started thrusting without slowing anymore, as if this was his damn job now.

And oh, you more than liked it. For this moment, nothing else existed outside of this bed on this old ship on this trash, crime infested planet. Not a thing in the galaxy mattered to you now except this bounty hunter that you wanted every part of.

“Harder,” You dared to say, wondering if you’d even be able to walk straight when this was through.

But somehow he still had more in reserve, and he did thrust even harder at your instruction, letting out a growling type moan of his own. It was practically predatory, a beast being sated by every bit of you that he could take.

You didn’t know his full past. Yet you felt you could trust your instincts that he hadn’t had anything close to this level of intimacy in a long time. He was very experienced clearly. But for how much he seemed almost as overwhelmed as you in the sensations of all this, this wasn’t an everyday thing for him either.

His hands ran down your legs as he kept pumping his hips. His palms then moved to your breasts again, grasping them roughly as your torso heaved in sync with him.

He wanted to touch everything. He wanted you to feel everything. His fingers ran down your stomach next, tracing the little beads of sweat that had formed in the heat that your bodies were generating.

And even with himself still fully inside of you, his fingers found the sensitive flesh just above your entrance again as he began teasing it once more.

It was so simple, but those administrations paired with his riding you were making you tremble and he felt it.

“I’m already close,” he breathed out sometime later, trying to warn you.

But you would take a contraceptive afterward. You knew those things were sold like candy everywhere, even on Tatooine. Someone in the palace would have some. It would all be fine. But it was nice of him to give you the choice as you stroked your hands up and down his tight chest while you bid him to let himself fully go. “It’s okay. I want it. Stay in.”

He was panting in arousal, still riding you with that impressive endurance. But he couldn’t hide the expression on his face as that pleasure built and built higher until at last it finally broke across him.

He shuddered with his orgasm, and he actually said your name before you felt that hot liquid pulsing up and out of him, burying itself inside of you as you arched into it.

A little overran to escape out, dripping down and onto the sheets beneath you. But in that bliss, neither of you cared.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, looking at him in satisfaction before pulling your legs off his shoulders to lay them down in the bed again so that he could move in closer to lay with you.

He didn’t pull out even then though, just rolling you both afterward so you were on your sides facing each other in the small bed. He kissed you and held you there as his arms wrapped around you.

He then closed his eyes, laying his face down beside yours as his breathing began to steady again.

“There’s still several hours of darkness left before the suns rise again.” He said about as relaxed as you’d ever heard him. “I’ll set an alarm and bring you back to the barge before then.”

“Fine with me,” You answered, in no hurry at all to leave him now.

This could last forever for all you cared.

———————————

But time stopped for no one. And an annoying electronic buzzing did sound eventually, stirring you both from sleep then as you had to untangle yourselves from each other and the blankets you’d been cocooned in.

You still couldn’t help but watch his naked form again though as he got up reluctantly before stretching. And you got to see his routine as he suited back up, hiding himself beneath that Mandalorian armor once more, one piece at a time.

But as intimidating as he could look, with his guns and weapons all equipped again as well, you had to snicker a little when the bounty hunter also had to take his gloves back off a moment to help you with the small clasps and zipper to get your dress back on.

By the time the two of you left his ship, a faint glow was just starting to emerge on the dark horizon. Only a few minutes left until sunrise as he took you in his arms again before taking off with the jetpack once more.

Unfortunately one of your shoes didn’t make it all the way back this time, falling off somewhere in between as you told him it wasn’t at all worth going back for.

When you landed and reached the ramp to walk back up into the sail barge, the dawn was really breaking. Trash was clearly still scattered all about from the partying the night before. To your surprise even some hungover stormtroopers were sitting with their helmets off, looking a little sick as they barely acknowledged either of you as you passed.

Boba scoffed quietly at them, but you kept close to him, still not thrilled about the Empire’s presence here regardless.

And you were keeping an eye on the soldiers so much so that you almost ran into Boba’s back when he suddenly stopped in front of you on the ramp.

“Hors d'oeuvre?” A voice called down from on deck as you looked up to what Boba had already seen.

“Out of the way, Solo,” That dangerous ice voice emerged from Boba once again.

“I like these little green ones. No idea what they are.” Han just continued, popping another into his mouth even if you saw he was also watching the hunter just as warily as he had in the cantina. “Have a pretty good night huh?” Han added with a bit of a shit eating grin on his face then. “Always a good one when someone loses a shoe I always say.”

He was putting two and two together obviously. And he didn’t miss a detail either, even that of just your one bare foot barely peeking out from beneath your dress. But why the opinion of some scruffy looking smuggler should matter to you was a question no one should ask. Because it didn’t.

Han at least did have enough sense of self preservation to back up and allow the two of you to pass however. But there was still some snideness in his tone as he just wouldn’t shut up. “You know I had a pretty good night myself. Maybe not that kind of good,” He smirked at you especially on the emphasis there. “But me and Chewie cleaned up at the Sanctuary after your bad luck left, Fett. So many credits in fact that Jabba’s already decided to extend my repayment timeline as of this morning.”

“What?” Boba grunted.

“Yep, I get a whole other month now. That slug really is a sweetheart deep down isn’t he? You know I’m his favorite right?” Han grinned, clearly enjoying the game of rubbing this in Boba’s face you realized. Yet he had one more barb he’d saved for last as he began to stroll away, “Oh, and Jabba said for you to come see him as soon as you slinked back up here this morning. Good luck with that, buddy!”

The resulting frustration you could almost feel coming from Boba in waves, even if he didn’t lose his composure. “Go find your droid.” He instructed to you instead. “The barge will be going back to the palace soon. I’ll contact you again when it’s appropriate.”

“Was that guy just talking out of his ass, or-” You started to ask in a concerned tone.

“The empty can rattles the loudest.” Boba grumbled. “That saying couldn’t have a better walking example. I’ll be fine.”

He turned his helmet to look at you one more time however as he spoke his own form of goodbye. “You be careful.”

It might have sounded like an odd note for him to end things on. But you now knew that for someone like Fett, even that simple sentiment meant a whole lot more. He was admitting that he could actually care what happened to you now.

“You too.” You agreed, just watching him nod at you then before he walked away towards the inside of the barge where Jabba’s court would be.

——————————

A tired Bib Fortuna was seated among other over indulged court members, but looked up as the bounty hunter strode into the room.

“Oh, Boba,” Fortuna blinked as if a headache was straining him in the sunlight now coming through the windows. “We were looking for you.”

The snores and half gargling sound of a now sleeping Jabba also permeated the room.

“I was in Mos Espa and then went back to my ship.” Boba answered plainly.

“Lord Jabba wanted to speak to you, but, well,” The Twi’lek motioned to the crimelord’s now drooling frame.

“Then summon me again when he awakens.” The hunter answered, starting to leave again.

But he wasn’t to the door before violent coughing and retching echoed from the slug, and the large orange eyes slid open again.

“Boba…” Jabba called, seeing that familiar silhouette near the doorway.

And he had no choice but to turn back then, walking up closer to where the Hutt loomed. “Lord Jabba, how can I be of service?” Boba questioned in that to the point, cold tone.

To this the slug laughed though, chuckling for a moment before speaking back to the hunter in Huttese.

“Always straight to business! Young Boba, you remind me so of your father in that way. It is why I like you so much! You always get the job done for me.” Yet the Hutt’s eyes still narrowed a little as he continued, then giving an order for all others to leave the room save for Fortuna so that he and Fett could discuss matters more privately.

Boba only remained silent at all of this however. He wasn’t fully sure the direction yet, but he had a few good guesses.

When the others were gone, his patron continued. “Captain Solo was here earlier. He paid me only a pittance in credits of course, a fraction of the losses that now hang over his foolish head. But he told me a nice story too, how he always does when he wishes to shift attention away from his own failures. He does entertain me in that way at least.”

Boba just had to endure the pilot’s name once more as Jabba chuckled again before explaining further.

“He told me about your little run in in Mos Espa. He wanted to make sure that I was aware of you and the droid maker once he asked around of who she was. He hoped I would at least chastise you for taking my property without permission. But of course Solo is still too young to our operations to understand all the allowances that I give you, or why. That I always want my best hunter to have his fill when he needs it!”

Yes, Jabba had actually offered Boba first go at new slaves many times. Fett had desires like anyone else, but he’d never accepted someone that was forced upon him. Paying him with women just didn’t work with the remnants of that inner code his father had instilled in him, what was left of that Mandalorian honor within their lineage.

But Boba knew this was not the real point of all this either as he was finally the one to speak then. “Yes, I was with the girl last night. And the opportunity did come up for me to confront her as you asked me to. But I don’t have the information you’re looking for.”

The Empire had been hunting for a supposed Rebel cell in the Outer Rim for months. And anyone who wanted favor with the imperials was thereby in a race to be the first to find it for them.

So when an informant came to Jabba saying you matched too closely to the New Mernoir governor’s daughter whose body had never been found, that had gotten the crimeboss extremely hopeful in having a lead that no one else did.

But the job in finding out the real truth had been assigned to Boba. One of those fateful moments that actually intertwined his personal interest in you with the then added professional reason to remain close by as well.

Yet these results would not be the ones Jabba had wanted.

And the slug did snort in response and for the first time of the whole conversation, Fortuna also looked up with a little concern at the displeased sound.

“Then she denies any rebel ties at all?” Jabba questioned in louder annoyance.

But Boba didn’t flinch, too used to these mood swings. “She does. And she also blames the rebels for the deaths of her family just as much as the soldiers that actually did the job.”

But Jabba insisted. “And you truly pressed her? Or did you let those other wants cloud your mind, hunter?”

To this hint of skepticism at his word, Boba did feel a little anger rising, though his voice did not change. “I recognized her hatred for what became of her family because of them.” It was too similar to all that had haunted him for so many years with Jango’s death. “She has not joined the rebels, no more than I would join a Jedi.”

Jabba groaned. Knowing full well what kind of self assuredness Boba must have to say such a thing. “But she is the governor’s daughter? Was the informant at least right about that?”

“She is, but she won’t be the connection the Empire is looking for to burn the rebels out of the Outer Rim. She has no rebel contacts.”

The slug glared in silence for a moment. But eventually past experience won out. “I have never seen you proven wrong before, Boba. And because of that, I accept your findings. But understand as well, my hunter, we must keep looking for ways to please the Empire. A war is coming, and we will remain on the side that will survive. The side that will continue to profit. I’d hoped she could be a gift we could deliver to them with their arrival now. But if you say she has no value, then I’m sending you in her place.”

Fortuna coughed awkwardly, about the only sound in the room then before Jabba clarified. “That imperial cruiser in orbit, they do have some bounties that the hunters guild keeps failing them on. I’ll have them transmit the data to your ship. Go take care of it, Boba. Show them how we do it. At least that will be something we can offer.”

“Yes, Lord Jabba,” Boba responded forcefully. He knew he was no longer being asked. He was being told. Jabba would get over this failure in time, but this conversation was now over.

The hunter bowed his helmet slightly and then turned to leave the room once more, his mind going back to all the myriad of other ways this could have gone as he walked back out into the sunlight.

It was so odd to have any afterthoughts at all. His mind normally only focused singularly on one task to the next. But the way he’d felt last night had been just as rare. It did something to him. And if you’d answered him any differently when he’d asked what you were, if you really had had valuable intel on the rebels, he still would have had to pry it from you.

Would you still have wanted him then in whatever came after? Maybe he’d never know. He still didn’t know really as it was today if you’d want to see him again. But as he ignited his jet pack to return to Slave 1, he realized for the first time in memory he also wanted to come back and find out.

When these jobs were done, he would be back. He would find you and find out how deep this really ran.

——————————

(End. May write more for this pairing later. Thank you for reading!)