#he didn’t even have charges in his blaster when he killed fives he actually just finished an energy drink that might as well have been fuel

[1-800-crscnt]

thinking of my “Fox doesn’t like caf so he drinks energy drinks” hc again and coming up with increasingly ridiculous things about it. he must have the worst heart burn & cavities known to man, if the clones weren’t genetically modified to have super strong teeth compared to an average human (because I don’t really see much dental stuff when it comes to canon?). he wakes up and chugs something called Fizzy Engine Blast before a shift and is able to start his speeder by looking at it. the Guard does have a Jedi, but Fox sets off Force-Geiger counters with his radioactive aura from the drinks, so that’s why we don’t see a Jedi around and leading them in canon. he grew a new clone out of his back after drinking his Killer Quasar Lemonade and just didn’t notice. there’s a small group chat dedicated to pictures the Guardsmen take of the weirdest / most concerning stuff he’s seen drinking, and currently, a plain glass of water is in the lead.

[stolen-pen-name23]

for your prompts list, how about #3 for obi-wan & anakin & padmé?

Oh boy, it's been a hot minute since I answered my prompts! Apologies for the delay, I've been kept quite busy these days!

Prompts now closed // from these angst prompts

Here ya go:

---

A cold drop of water lands on Obi-Wan’s head and a shiver racks his frame. Obi-Wan grimaces and hopes he didn’t stir Anakin from his light and much-needed sleep. The young knight had finally fallen asleep with his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder after hours of pacing around their tiny little cage in anger and frustration. The movement, much to Obi-Wan’s displeasure, was enough to shake Anakin from sleep. He lifted his head up.

“Master?” he asks, his voice hoarse from sleep and from all the shouting he had been doing earlier. “Where are—” Anakin cuts himself off as realization appears to hit him. He scrambles back to his feet and begins pacing again. Obi-Wan sighs.

“Hey!” Anakin shouts. “You can’t keep us here! The Republic is going to come for us and you’re going to pay!”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says softly.

“Do you hear me? You’re going to pay for keeping us here!”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says more forcefully. “Please stop yelling.”

“No! They can’t keep us here, we’re Generals in the Grand Army of the Republic and this is a neutral planet.”

Obi-Wan winces as Anakin’s words echo off the walls. His head is pounding and he just needs Anakin to shut up for just a little while. “Anakin…” Obi-Wan says. “Please just for five minutes…”

The pleading tone of his voice gets Anakin’s attention. “Master?” he asks, concerned. He kneels next to Obi-Wan. “Are you all right?”

Obi-Wan hums, trying to fight off the nausea from what he is sure is a minor concussion at best. “You’re so loud. Give it a rest.”

“But…”

“As you said,” Obi-Wan says, “this is a neutral planet. They will realize this is a mistake and that we are being held here on accident. They don’t want problems with the Republic.”

“What if they’ve actually partnered with the Separatists.”

“That’s a possibility. But either way, I think the Republic is already looking for us.”

“But how—”

“We haven’t checked in anywhere in what? 48 hours at least? Maybe more? Someone will have noticed by now.”

Anakin looks slightly more at ease. “Does anyone know where we are?”

“Cody knows we were coming here. I’m sure he’s already contacted the Council.”

“We’re saved,” Anakin says sarcastically.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan admonishes.

“What? They are so slow at decision-making. They have to deal with all this red-tape in the senate and their own internal debates and yeah, I think we’re going to be stuck here for a little while.”

“Then be a little more patient, would you? Conserve your energy Anakin, you don’t know how long we’re going to be here or how they’re going to treat us.”

The pair of Jedi had been given water, but no food. Obi-Wan feels too nauseous to eat even if there was food available, but from experience, he knows Anakin does not exactly do well with skipping meals.

Anakin huffs and sits back down next to Obi-Wan. He leans his head back on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“Talk to me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says softly. “Tell me what’s going through your head.”

“I just—” Anakin hesitates.

“It’s all right. You can tell me,” Obi-Wan says.

“I just want to go home,” Anakin says quietly. All of the anger has left his voice. He sounds like the scared Padawan he was when Obi-Wan first took him under his wing.

Obi-Wan finds Anakin’s hand and squeezes it. “I know,” he says. “Trust in the Force, Padawan.”

Anakin looks at him quizically. “Are you doing alright, Master? You haven’t called me that since… well, since you knighted me.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says. “Forget I said it.”

“No, it’s okay. It just took me off guard,” Anakin says. “How’s your head?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“So not good, huh?”

“No, not good, but I’ll manage.”

“Do you think we’ll get out of here soon?”

“Depends,” Obi-Wan says. “Why don’t you just try to sleep?”

“I’m hungry,” Anakin complains.

“Then meditate with me. We’ll take your mind off of it.”

Anakin huffs out a breath. “Fine. Nothing better to do anyway.”

Obi-Wan coaches Anakin through some of the breathing exercises he knew worked best with him. He can sense Anakin calming slightly.

“Just go to sleep,” Obi-Wan whispers. Anakin’s breathing evens out and his eyes flutter closed.

Obi-Wan tilts his head back and hopes he’ll remain asleep just for a little while. As much as Obi-Wan would like to sleep too, he knows he probably shouldn’t with a potential concussion. He resolves to meditate instead.

But try as he might, Obi-Wan still dozes off. He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until Anakin is shaking his shoulders.

“Do you hear that?” Anakin asks, excitement dripping off his question.

Obi-Wan lifts his head and listens. A loud banging sound erupts from the hallways, followed by the sound of blaster fire.

“Now I do,” Obi-Wan says. Anakin stands and hovers at the edge of the ray shield, so close Obi-Wan fears he’ll touch it. “Do you see anything?”

“No, not yet,” Anakin says. “Wait! A guard just got shot, he fell over.”

Obi-Wan looks over with mild interest.

“Oh, another guard just fell! Wait… is that?” Anakin stops and squints. His eyes widen in shock. “Padmé?”

Padmé takes out the last guard and rushes over to their cage. She presses a button and the red ray shield in between them dissolves.

“Ani,” Padmé breathes, running up to him and putting her hands on his chest. “Are you okay? You’ve have been missing for two days.”

Padmé runs a hand through his tangled curls and runs her eyes over his body.

“I’m fine, Padmé. I’m just glad you’re here.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “I’m also fine if anyone cared to ask,” he mutters.

Anakin flushes, but Padmé is unphased. “Master Kenobi,” she says good-naturedly. She extends a hand to him and helps pull him to his feet. “It’s good to see you.”

“The feeling is more than mutual, Senator,” Obi-Wan says. He looks around. “Did you come here alone?”

“Yes,” Padmé answers simply. “I thought it best to be discreet.”

“Padmé!” Anakin exclaims. “Did you really just take on all those guards by yourself?”

“I had my blaster!” she retorts.

Anakin scoffs and Obi-Wan just offers her an impressed smile. “Only you, Senator,” he says.

“It’s my duty to serve the Republic. I think saving two of its best Generals is a good way of serving it.”

“Not that I’m ungrateful for you being here,” Obi-Wan says, “but how did you even know to come here? How did you find us?”

“Cody contacted me. The Council was moving too slow for his taste,” Padmé says. “So he found me and we worked out a plan. He’s flying the getaway shuttle.”

Anakin smirks. “I told you they were too slow. Even your Commander agrees.”

“No matter. Let’s just get out of here.”

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Padmé digs around in a small satchel that she has slung around her shoulders. “Here.” She hands them their lightsabers.

Obi-Wan lights up at the return of his weapon. He always felt naked without it. Vulnerability was never a pleasant feeling for him.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoes through the hallway. “I’m guessing you didn’t kill all of the guards?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Not quite. I was hoping you two could help with that?”

“Senator,” Obi-Wan says. “It would be my pleasure.”

Obi-Wan and Anakin ignite their sabers and with Padmé at their side, they charge down the hall.

[oceanera12]

Losing Lightsabers

Excuse me while I just think of all the random scenarios where the Jedi are clumsy as heck and the clones have to pick up after their Generals. (Every. Single. Time.)

Anakin is one of the most frequent, to no surprise. Most of the 501st have at some point held their General’s saber (”Fives, be careful with that thing!” “Come on, Echo, it’s not going to turn on.” *lightsaber activates as Fives begins cursing* “What did I just say?”). Sometimes it’s only for a second or two because they are throwing it up to said General, who is now flipping over their head and charging headfirst into battle because of course he is. When it is longer than five minutes, the saber is taken to Rex who returns it to General Skywalker the next time he sees him. The longest period of Rex caring for the saber was two days. Anakin returned with his Padawan, both of them covered head to toe in a green questionable substance. Anakin’s only words were, “Don’t. Ask.” Rex returned the saber without commenting.

*bonus to Anakin* Ahsoka has lost her sabers a total of five times in a battle. Three of those times it was Anakin’s fault. She brings it up. A lot.

Surprisingly, Obi-Wan actually loses his saber as much, if not more than Anakin. No one outside the 212th really believes it (other than the 501st). Nintey-nine percent of the time, the saber drops in front of or near Commander Cody. No one knows how or why, not Cody, not Obi-Wan, it just happens. At this point, Cody has a name for the thing and every time it finds it’s way to him, he greets it with a tone of exasperation and annoyance. “Metalrod, what did the General do this time?” (most clones argue with Cody that “Metalrod” is not a creative name, which Cody just asks for something better. No one can come up with anything).

Plo Koon rarely loses his saber in battle (maybe twice. Maybe). But between battles? Oh, you better believe that thing gets misplaced. Think of when a Dad loses his keys and that’s pretty much the scene that unravels in the 104th. (”Did you check in the command center?” “Yes, Wolffe, I checked in the command center. It’s not there.” “… Are you sure?” “Wolffe!” “I’m just saying General, it was there last time!” *they find it in the command center*). The 104th boys don’t mind though. They’ll look all over until the saber is produced. However, it has made for some tight situations right before a battle. (”Alright boys we have ten minutes before we get out of hyperspace so let’s find that saber!”)

Aalya Secura didn’t lose her saber at the beginning of the war. But as time has gone on she started to drop it. Never in a dangerous situation and never when she is going to need it. She just goes to put it on her belt and misses the loop or strap somehow. Usually, it’s after a battle is over for good or a practice sparing session. After she drops it, she always goes to pick it up but Commander Bly is always one step ahead, swooping down to the ground, scooping it up, handing it over and making some comment about, “I believe this belongs to you,” or “Here, General.” And if her hand lingers a little too long on his, no one says anything.

Those of 41st Elite Corp have never had to return their General’s lightsaber. Or at least, that’s what they all say. General Luminara Unduli is a woman of grace and would never drop her saber. So it is a sworn secret among the men to never speak of that one time she accidentally dropped her saber down a canyon and someone had to go get it.

Mace Windu has never dropped his saber on accident. And that isn’t a lie. The four times he has “dropped” it was all intentional and for a purpose. That one time they surrendered to a neutral party in the war (all of the clone’s blaster’s joined it shortly on the ground). The time he was undercover and had to sell it for information (one of the clones stole it back when the storekeeper was busy giving Windu the information). The time he threw his saber as far as he could, chopping down every droid in its path saving several of his men but also losing it in the scuffle. And that one time he threw it to Commander Ponds, who used the kriffing thing to cut down a charging wild beast. (They don’t talk about that time…)

Depa Billaba is a lot like her Master in the sense of she never accidentally drops her saber. It is always intentional… at least that is what she tells herself and her Padawan, who thought it was a good idea to make his lightsaber into two separate pieces. Seriously, it’s a problem. (”I swear I put them down right here.” “And then one of them rolled away, right kid?” “Don’t call me kid!”)

On the planet Kamino, General Shak Ti is the only Jedi constantly present. As such, it is her responsibility to interact with all of the clones and show them what a lightsaber is, what it does, and what a clone should do if they find one (it’s best to not have the troopers accidently chopping off limbs). Unfortunately, this means a lot of cadets come into contact with the weapon and sometimes a cadet will get the brilliant idea to take the thing. Shak Ti always knows where it is though because the kyber crystal is constantly calling her because, “There are children. They’re going to kill themselves. Shak Ti come get me away from these tiny children!” General Ti always arrives and the cadet and his brothers sheepishly return the blade, apologetic and afraid they are going to be punished. Instead, Shak Ti shows the finer points of the design, explains how she built it with the Force, the story of her kyber crystal, and then demonstrates a few kata’s. It’s now become a sort of ritual for cadets to run off with the saber then wait for the General to find them.

Many clones have served under the Jedi General Yoda and the general consensus is that he keeps a good hold on his weapon. His glimmer stick on the other hand? Oh, that thing they have to keep track of. And it’s even more annoying than a lightsaber because it’s a stick. (”Is this it?” “How the kriff am I supposed to know? It’s brown, it’s short, and it’s kind of straight.”) And Yoda always knows if they brought him his stick. If it’s not it, they have to keep looking. Most of the time though, the Jedi finds it on his own and all the clones are just ??? (“I thought we looked over there!” “He’s a Jedi, vod. Don’t think about it.”)

Part 2 here

[gospelofme]

47 Thoughts While Watching Part 1 of The Bad Batch season finale (spoilers ahead!!!!!)

“They’ll still come for you”. Ugh that sounds so sad. He’s confident about it too.

How did Echo get so good at ship repairs? Unless basic ship crap is mandatory for sudden repairs. Which I guess if you hang with Skywalker, that’s a requirement.

Aaahhh, the Kamino theme is memorable.

So I wonder if Rampart planned to leave Crosshair on Kamino all along?

I love the fact the Kaminoans kept secrets from the Republic/Empire. Like using their credits to fund their own projects.

I wonder how Omega knew about that platform….I didn’t think she’d ever left Kamino. Unless she went there with Nala Se for whatever.

Damn, I’d hate always getting wet when I go outside.

So the pad and lift are proximity sensor based. Not weight.

So the tubes aren’t documented on any schematics. So none of the blueprints that Tech has access to have them on there. That means one of two things:

- there are “official” and “unofficial” blueprints. Like some the Republic were given and the actual plans.

- Nala Se had the tube system built specifically for her.

Private research lab doesn’t mean secret…but still, why did she get a private one? Was it just to create the enhanced clones? Or was it used for more “off the records” projects?

And if there are other tubes that run throughout Kamino, and they’re all secret, WHY!? Like why do they exist? Surely the Kaminoans know they can just go wherever they want whenever they want because they fucking live there. Unless….they became prisoners in their own home….

About how uncomfortable Omega is having to go to the lab…

“why would I be?” He sounded like he rolled his eyes there.

The amount of salt that is being sprinkled by Crosshair right now.

“We didn’t have a choice?”

“And I did?”

Okay so when I first watched this episode, I thought that meant he no longer had his chip. But now I see it as Crosshair not having a choice because Hunter had committed treason by what his orders were telling him.

Also, I love the colors used in the control room. Idk why. They just all work. I think it’s because the rest of that place is so blinding with white light.

So how did they build the tubes under water….

“Most in Tipoca City don’t know about it.” So some do.

Omega sounds so sad. Honestly since I’m certain there were more than just five enhanced clones, since Nala Se said that that was all that remained, I wonder if Omega saw the clones that didn’t survive the experimentation.

About how Tech always looks like he’s texting. I’m waiting for him to take a selfie with Echo or something.

About Hunter still trying to convince Crosshair that this is all influenced by his chip. I think Crosshair knows he’s being used, but he (like the others in Clone Force 99) want some sense of normalcy. Like Echo said earlier, “we’re soldiers, what other path is there?”

Okay the alarm reminds me of the purge siren.

And the indoor alarm sounds like an airport alert.

About Echo taking charge, although I think he naturally is the next in command rank-wise. Do we even know the rank of Tech and Wrecker? What was Crosshair’s rank before?

Omega should’ve gone and tattled on them to Rex. Like “and then they just ditched me!! Again!! I know I have no combat training but still…”

Its pretty clear that Crosshair knows how the team is going to act. Like what tactics they’d use and decisions they’d make. Like on Bracca, Crosshair knew immediately the scanner frequencies were being jammed, because he had seen Tech use that trick before.

“We’re running out of time Commander” I have enjoyed that guy’s voice. It’s soothing.

The way Crosshair spits out “the Republic” makes me think there is something more than just the inhibitor chip at play. I wonder if he’s always harbored ill feelings towards the Republic. Cut had issues with the war that were so strong, he deserted. I wonder if Crosshair had similar feelings.

Wow he is really hurt about being left behind. And I can understand that. But Hunter did have a responsibility to Omega, Wrecker, Echo, and Tech too. He couldn’t risk them being shot and killed while trying to reason with someone who is shooting at him. Of course maybe if he had made more of an effort to get Crosshair to come with them…..of course I do think the Empire has done some brainwashing of Crosshair as well.

“I was one of you. You may have forgotten, but I haven’t. And it’s why I’m going to give you, what you never gave me. A chance.”

I think there is more to this than face value. It could very well mean he’s giving them a chance to join the Empire. But that whole conversion always used the term “choice”, not “chance”. “Chance” is used more as “an opportunity to do something”. That “do something” could be making a decision though. Like “I’m going to give you a chance to join the Empire.” But it could be “I’m going to give you a chance to get out of here.” Hunter didn’t give Crosshair a chance to prove he was loyal to them either. Plus the way the rest of Crosshair’s team reacted tells me they weren’t aware of their Commander’s intentions.

I love how Tech, Wrecker, and Echo are standing there like 😐

I thought it was interesting Crosshair decided to send Omega on a shuttle off world. Of course where would that have been? Just pick some random coordinates and say “good luck”? How would that be received by Rampart? Of course I don’t think he cared about Omega. That was just Nala Se and Lama Su really. And honestly, Crosshair was sounding like he’d actually thought about this. Like if Hunter wants to keep Omega safe, then he needs to realize that she won’t be safe with them. Especially if they’re being hunted. However there may have been an ulterior motive here too. With Omega out of the way, It will be like “old times” when it was just them. He probably feels like he was replaced by a kid.

The change in music though. The emotional, sweeping theme dropping down to a more sinister theme when Crosshair mentions their superiority over regular troopers.

“This is what we were made for.” What if, and hear me out…what if the enhanced clones were created specifically for the Empire. Their deployment during the Clone Wars could’ve been a testing phase. They may not have been prepared for the chance the inhibitor chips didn’t work. Crosshair had mentioned that Hunter couldn’t see the bigger picture. What if that is the bigger picture. That all of them were created to serve the Empire. Not the Republic. Which would explain Crosshair’s sudden disgust with it.

That reflection shot of Tech staring into the mirror. I like that shot. That’s really beautifully animated.

I have a feeling Crosshair knew his new squad wouldn’t listen to him. The “stand down” sounded like he was just saying it to say it. I don’t think he ever had respect for them, not after what happened with Saw’s fighters. They weren’t following him out of loyalty, but fear. And loyalty is a big deal to Crosshair. Honestly I think he had planned all along to kill his new squad. Like from the beginning. Which is why he was trying so hard to get his old squad members. The sooner he got them and convinced them to come to his side, the sooner he could shoot his new squad.

I have a feeling Crosshair know’s the reason why they were all created. Granted that could be brainwashing by the Empire to gain his compliance and loyalty. But something tells me that they were created specifically to become an elite squad for the Emperor.

Crosshair has some serious Anakin vibes when he’s telling Hunter to not become his enemy. And Hunter has some Obiwan vibes with the whole “we never were” line.

I do enjoy the weight they give Crosshair when Hunter flips him. Like the sound of him hitting the floor. He’s heavier than he looks.

Lmao that one TK trooper like “nope, imma get the fuck out of here.”

“Let the clones die together.” Yeah that bitch always intended to leave Crosshair on Kamino. Rampart never actually considered him important since he was the one that pitched the idea of an all conscripted trooper squad. He only had Crosshair as a part of it because Admiral Tarkin still liked the idea of clones. I think Rampart is going to try to climb over Tarkin on that Empire ladder. He didn’t mention to Tarkin that Crosshair was still on Kamino.

Aaahhh now the subject of the chip. Does he or doesn’t he? I think he does. The Empire wouldn’t remove it and take that risk of losing that compliance and blind loyalty. Plus the “does it really matter?” tells me he doesn’t know when, which he would if it was recent. He did have it in the first episode though. It showed up on the scanner and he did the whole “good soldiers follow orders.”

So I don’t think he was going to shoot Hunter. I think he feigned movement to make Hunter shoot him. He may not have thought Hunter’s blaster was sent to stun even. He may have intended to have Hunter kill him.

I do like how Hunter doesn’t hesitate to not bring Crosshair this time.

Damn the shots of the empty facility kills me.

Okay, so I know this was sad BUT the bombardment of Kamino was beautifully animated. Honestly. The underwater shots of the bolts hitting the support pillars. And it reminds me…Omega asked Tech about these the war was like and now she kinda knows. She’s never seen explosions like that.

Get ready for part 2

@jgvfhl @leias-left-hair-bun @escapedthesarlacc @halzore @eyecandyeoz

[gondowan]

Communal Property

Pairings: Din Djarin x f!Reader, allusions to Paz Viszla x f!Reader, Boba Fett x f!Reader, other Mandalorians x f!Reader, big gangbang vibes here lads. 

“I hear you Mandos like to share your women anyway.”

Tags/Warnings: NC-17. Explicit sexual content. Established relationship. Verbal humiliation.  Dom/sub. Choking. Lots of finnnngerrring (vaginal/anal). Canon-typical violence (Din stabs a rando). Soup, but make it sexy. Daddy kink (ehe). Suggestions of a threesome, gangbang, public use, bondage, breeding, double penetration (if I missed anything please let me know), its fluffy at the end :D

Word Count: 4,709

Notes: <:3c please don’t read if you’re not comfortable with anything listed above lol. Seriously though. 

---

It was getting late, and the only clientele left at the dingy cantina were either drunk and rowdy or on their way to out. Which was fine, it was rare for the two of you to have some time together and you relished every second you could get. Din had just bagged a large bounty for Karga, enough that he could be persuaded to take a short break. It had been far too long since the two of you could spend some time together without a bounty puck hanging over your head or fears of Imperials looking for the Child.

Besides, Sorgan was as quiet as it got, and with all the planet-hopping and close calls in the last few cycles, the two of you really hadn’t had any time to yourselves and you were getting a little...tense from the lack of release. 

It wasn’t that Din ignored your needs, but rather you were both so caught up with everything that there was barely any time to sleep, let alone indulge in a long scene. There just weren’t enough hours in the day to both take care of the Crest, the Child, and yourselves while on the run. You could tell he too was tense from the lack of physical connection; from the moment you stepped planetside, he was constantly touching you, either guiding you with a hand on the small of your back or  

Din was in a mood. 

“What will it be?” the barkeep had asked when you both walked in. 

Before you could open your mouth, Din replied “Some stew and cider for her please, nothing for me,” he said in a clipped tone, not bothering to look at you or even ask what you might want. 

As the barkeep walked away, he turned his helmeted gaze towards you. “Any objections sweet girl?”

You felt your face get hot. “No,” you murmured. 

He cocked his head to the side, waiting. He was in that kind of mood tonight. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the barkeep coming back to your table. 

“No...daddy,” you mumbled, dropping your gaze away from him right as the barkeep put down your drinks. 

“Let me know if you all need anything else!” she said cheerfully as she set your plate of food and drink in front of you, oblivious to what had just occurred. 

“That’ll be all, thank you.” Din said, not even bothering to look at the barkeep. She must’ve thought you were mute or the two of you had an argument or something, the air between the two of you felt so charged. You hadn’t spoken a word since you two stepped in, and this armor-clad Mandalorian was basically bossing you around. 

She walked away, and you reached for the soup. 

“No.” 

You blinked at him in confusion. 

“I’m going to feed it to you,”. 

If you weren’t embarrassed before, you were now. Although the two of you had conversations about taking your dynamic outside the bedroom, Din hadn’t tried anything outside the ship just yet. The two of you were constantly surrounded by others anyway (Cara, Mayfeld, Boba, etc),  so there wasn’t much of a chance to be naughty in public.

Except now, you suppose. You should’ve known. 

“Mando, we’re in public,” you hissed, looking around the cantina. It was crowded and loud, and you were in a corner booth, but there was still a nonzero chance that someone might glance over.

His vocoder crackled, “Just the first spoonful,” he said, dipping the spoon into the soup and raising it towards you. You knew better than to say no, not if you valued the ability to sit down comfortably tomorrow. If you were really uncomfortable, all you had to do was blurt out your safeword, and you knew he would stop. 

You licked your lips, “Just the one.” You prop your forearms on the table and lean towards him, parting your lips, fervently hoping that no one would look towards your table. Din carefully tips the soup into your mouth, watching intently as you swallow.  

“Good?”

You lick your lips, despite the (admittedly delicious) soup, your mouth feels dry, “Y-yeah,”. 

“Finish it and we can leave,” to do what it is we really want to do, is the unspoken statement hanging in the air. He pushes the bowl towards you; you hastily grab the spoon, not even tasting it anymore.  Din watches you eat, unmoving save for an impatient drum of his fingers on the table. 

You relax a little, and ramble at Din about this-that-and-the-other to fill in the silence as you move onto polishing off your cider. Din says little in return but traces circles at your thigh, gloved fingers leaving a burning trial in its wake. Right as you are about to finish, a drunken man saunters over. You can smell the stench of alcohol rolling off of him. So much for a quiet night. 

“What’s a pretty lady like you doing with a tin can like that?” the drunkard giggles, pointing at Din. “Come with me instead, I can show you a great time, and you can see my face!”.

You sigh, so much for a quiet night, “I’m not interested, thank you,” you say with a clipped smile, turning away, hoping to the maker that he’d leave. 

Unfortunately this idiot can’t read the room, “Awww, don’t be like that, I can-”.

“She’s not interested.” Din said, voice flat, gaze still directed at you, not even bothering to give the drunkard the luxury of his full attention.

The man scowls, throwing up his hands. “Whatever, she’s probably all used up. I hear you Mandos like to share your women anyway.” 

The air got deathly still. Before you can turn to stop him, Din’s vibroblade is sticking out of this man’s shoulder. He screams, sobering up instantly, as Din twists the blade. 

In a flash, the barkeep shows up, blaster in hand, “OUT! All three of you!”, she yells, “Sa’al, I told you if you were going to get in trouble for this shit one day. Don’t let me catch any of you back here again.”

You throw down a fat wad of credits at the table, face apologetic as Din pulls his knife out of Sa’al’s shoulder, returning it to his boot. Sa’al collapses and scurries away in pain, clutching his shoulder. Din calmly stands up, takes your hand in his and leads you towards the exit. You mouth apologies at the barkeep before stepping out into the cool night air. Sorry, my partner is...touchy tonight have a good night so sorry I’m so sorry. 

You shiver, not looking forward to the long walk back to the Crest. Surprisingly, Din turns you in the opposite direction, marching you towards the inn. 

“Don’t want to wait,” he says. “Besides, it’s getting cold, and I know you don’t like that,” he drapes his cloak over your shoulders, and despite the reaction he had at the bar, your heart feels warm, and you lean into him. 

---

The inn is quiet, and you were lucky to get a larger room at the end of the hall. A bath would be nice, the refresher aboard the Crest did its job, but five minute showers really didn’t leave any time for luxuriating. Maybe you could MacGyver some bubbles and really indulge with Din. 

Din however, has other ideas. He all but shoves you into the room, closing the door behind him and quickly doing his usual checks for cameras and recording bugs. Old habits die hard. Once he’s satisfied, he sits at the edge of the bed. He pats at his lap, gesturing for you to sit. This had become a bit of a ritual for the two of you, he would often decompress by holding you as you sat there, either in the cockpit or the sleeping quarters. You amble over, planting a kiss on his helmet, and sit down.

Din doesn’t say anything at first, just lays his head on your shoulder. You reach in between his armor to rub at the tense muscles on his back, and for a few moments, it’s just the two of you and the sound of his breathing out of the vocoder. 

“You didn’t have to go so hard on the poor man you know,” you murmur as you massage the back of his neck. Din doesn’t move, just continues to hold you on his lap, head on your shoulder as he scoffs. 

 “I’m getting soft. Before I met you, old me would’ve killed him,”  the voice underneath the helmet is deadly. He releases his hold on your waist and takes off his helmet, immediately peppering kisses along your mouth. You knew he wasn’t lying, he had done worse--for less. “No one talks to my girl like that,”. 

“It’s fine, you dealt with him. My honor remains intact, I swear.” you giggle as his lips reach a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear. Except the idea was enticing. Maybe you could bring it up another time, when Din wasn’t fresh out of nearly killing someone for saying that. The idea of being sandwiched between two Mandalorians was...tempting. You squeeze your thighs together, willing the thought away as you card your fingers through his hair. For someone who routinely kept it covered, it was so, so soft, and one of your favorite parts about him. Din still kept his helmet on more often than not, so you relished every chance you could get. 

His mouth wanders to your collarbones, hand reaching into your shirt, fingers smoothing over your nipple. 

“Although Din--ah,” your breath hitched as he rolled your nipple between his fingers, “What was that with the soup?”

“You didn’t like it?” his voice is muffled as he sucks a bruise onto your shoulder. 

You loved it actually. 

“Need to make sure babygirl has enough energy for Daddy,”. He continues to play with your nipple as you fuss around his lap.“Although...you averted your eyes earlier sweet girl,”. 

You whimper, body tensing. Shit. That had one been one of the rules he had laid out for you at the very beginning. Eye contact whenever you were playing. Din loved it because it made you embarrassed to have to admit to your desires to his face and it put you in an almost automatic submissive mindset. 

“Are you ashamed of being my baby girl?” he murmured, catching your chin with his hand, tilting your face to meet his. You knew it was a trick question, you could never be ashamed of the relationship the two of you shared. It had grown from just business to more, and despite the near-constant danger, you never wanted to be away from him, and you knew Din felt the same. 

“Of course not,” you sigh. You could never be anything but happy to be his. 

“Then why did you look away from me?” he asked, keeping your chin in a gentle grip, looking at you fondly, a smile of wicked pleasure gracing his handsome features. His voice was calm, and he maintained an innocent demeanor even as his other hand drifted away from your breast onto your thigh, squeezing gently. 

“I was just caught off-guard, we were in public,”. You braced yourself for what you knew was coming-- punishment. 

The other hand that had been trailing along your thigh paused, prompting you to freeze. “Well, it looks like you need to be taught a lesson. Always be ready for me, kitten.” 

“I think five is good,” he releases your face, hands roaming to your bottom, groping as you let out a shuddering breath, “Remember to count them”. 

You burrow your face into his shoulder, holding on tight. Din keeps his gloves on, knowing that you have a special fondness for being spanked while he was wearing them. The leather just adds that extra touch. 

The first hit takes you by surprise, and you buck into him, feeling the sting of his hand. 

“O-one.”

The second and third hit right next to the first, causing you to moan into his neck. 

Din rubbed the growing warm spot on your asscheek, “You should be in a museum kitten, your body is a masterpiece,” he growled, “Almost makes me feel sorry to hurt you.”. He lifts his hand away and you close your eyes, bracing yourself.

“But not quite,”. The next hit has you whimpering.

“Four.” you manage between clenched teeth.

He murmurs, “Last one okay? You’re doing so well.” You steel yourself, knowing that this one will be the most painful. You loved it when he was cold and domineering, playing with your body, inflicting both pain and pleasure at his desire, extracting whatever he needed out of you. 

Din’s hand comes down, hard. You cry out, shifting forward with the force, but are caught by his chestplate. 

“Five!” you call out, relieved. “T-Thank you Daddy,”.  

Din kisses your cheek, phrases of adoration and love filling your ear. He moves you off his thigh, pushing you onto the bed in one swift motion. You land with a soft ‘oof’, getting up on the back of your forearms to look at him. 

Din hurriedly takes off the rest of his armor and looms over you on the bed, arousal rolling off his body in waves. His palm reaches down between your legs. “Babygirl...you’ve already made a mess.” Din pulls at the crotch of your panties, feeling the wetness that has seeped through. He yanks them off, making a big show out of sniffing them, all the while maintaining eye contact with you as you squirm under him.  

“Is this all for me sweet girl?”. You nod feverishly and Din groans, as he inhales deeply again, your ruined panties pressed right against his nose, “It’s too good--I should just keep your pussy under lock and key.”  

“Did the spanking get you all riled up?” he asks, the curve of his cock visible even through his pants, making your mouth water. 

“Or…” his voice drops precipitously, “Were you thinking about being passed around?” 

Damn, of course he’d know. Your eyes widen and you swallow, stomach twisting. 

Din grins as he continues to let his hands caress your hip, “Was that it? Is that what you want? Passed around and used up by a bunch of Mandalorians?”

You whine, biting your lip, refusing to give him the pleasure of confirmation.

A sharp slap across your nipple brings you back to reality. “Answer me.”

You nod, lips parting, unable to answer as Din pushes a finger into your mouth and across your tongue. You lap at his finger, pleased at the subtle shiver that goes through him. He adds a second finger, reaching deep into your mouth, making you gag as you garble out an affirmation. 

Din grins ferally. “You know I could call up Paz and Boba, let them take turns on you”. You shudder, the thought of sucking Boba’s cock while Paz worked your pussy was hot. You hadn’t done more than exchange a few conversations with the two of them, but you knew that Din would trust them with his life, they were his vod. Paz was the biggest one and you knew he wouldn’t take it easy on you. Boba, however, would be brutal, possibly even more so than Din.  

“Although I don’t know babygirl, I’m not sure I can share your pussy-- maybe I’ll keep my cock in your pussy and the others can take turns on your ass and mouth, keep you airtight and so full. Would you like that baby? Be stuffed full of cock?” Din hums as he pulls his fingers out of your mouth. The image he’s painting in your mind is disgusting and oh so good, you imagine yourself straddling Din as his cock fills your pussy, holding on for dear life while Paz eases himself into your other tight hole and you choke around Boba’s length, utterly debauched. 

Din pets your cheek, soft gesture contrasting sharply with the utter filth coming out of his mouth. His hand finally reaches down towards the apex of your thighs, knuckle grazing up and down your folds. “We better train your asshole then, don’t want Paz or Boba to hurt you,” your heart flutters, filthy images of you on your knees plugged up making your blood pound.  

“That’s Daddy’s job after all.” he says absentmindedly, eyes laser focused on your pussy as he briefly dips his finger even lower, just barely skimming across your other hole.    

“Look at you,” he says, admiring the way you shudder as he inserts his fingers into your pussy, you’re so turned on you can hear the squelch as he pushes in. “Knew you were a greedy slut since the first day I set eyes on you.”

You keen under his touch, mind flying high, pussy throbbing as you move your hips into his hand. “I’m your greedy slut Daddy,” 

“Yeah you are, sweet girl.” Din says fondly. You wonder how it is that you’re already this close even though he’s barely started to finger you.  

“Can I kiss you? Please?” you whimper, reaching for him. Din hums and puts a knee on the bed, leaning over, chest pressed against yours, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw. You pull him closer, needy for more of him as you wordlessly beg for more. He nips at your bottom lip and you open your mouth to let him in, never minding the mess of saliva. 

 “Never thought you were that much of a whore,” he hisses against your neck, teething grazing along the line of your skin as you tilt your head back to allow him better access. His fingers continue to work their magic on your slick folds, and you’re pretty sure you’ve made a mess on the bed already, and dear maker, he hadn’t even made you cum yet. 

“Alternatively…”. Din stands up, mouth leaving yours and withdrawing his fingers as well. You whine at the loss of sensation. He nips at your breast before reaching down to pull his pants down. You swallow, chest heaving as you part your legs further for him. Din rubs the head of his cock on your clit, 

“Spread yourself,” he orders with a sharp smack to your inner thigh. You scramble, reaching down to give him better access. Din lets out a moan at the sight of your dripping pussy and your debauched dreamy expression, fresh bruises adorning your neck and chest, all his doing. He loved the way you folded under his touch as if you were made for him, always so sweet and anticipatory of his needs. A beautiful complement to his twisted desires. The thought of it made his heart swell. He was never going to let you go.  

Din makes an appreciative noise as you follow his command, lining himself up with your wet hole. You’re breathing so hard in anticipation that you feel light-headed, “Or...I could take you back to the Covert, let everyone else have a turn at you,”

Before you can fully register what he said, he pushes deep into you with one fluid motion of his hips. You squeeze down on him, grateful for the pressure and the way he fills you up every time like he was made for you.  

“We could get your implant taken out, make you take all of our loads in your pussy. All of our cum mixing together.” You moan, head dropping back, shuddering as he continues to thrust, bottoming out, not giving you any time to breathe let alone think. 

“Would you like that babygirl? Naked in the middle of the Covert for all to see?” you scramble to hold on to his arm, legs circling around his back. You squeeze around his length, getting close, but you don’t dare to cum without his permission. 

“D-daddy…” is about all you can muster out, eyes looking at his face but unseeing as he continues. You pull at the arm he’s been using to brace himself against the bed, gesturing at him to put his hand around your neck. He obliges with a small laugh, the span of his palm encompassing your neck, lightly resting his hand there and not squeezing, yet. 

“Close baby?” 

You tremble, “Y-yes Daddy fuck, please may I--” 

His hand returns to your clit and he presses down, taunting you, “You’re close already? If you cum, you acknowledge that you’re a filthy slut who needs Daddy to keep them in check. Is that what you are? A whore for Daddy?”. The hand on your throat squeezes just right and you can’t hold on any longer.  

“Always Daddy f-fuck.” you cry out as you curse, feeling your release overtake you as Din fucks you through your orgasm. 

“What do you say,” he snarls, ignoring your attempts to scramble away from the overstimulation of his cock and fingers. 

You blink and take a deep breath, “Thank you for letting me cum Daddy.” You’re past the point of embarrassment at this point, he has you wrapped around his finger, all mental filters long gone. 

You can see Din’s jaw clench before he pulls out quickly and you whimper at the loss of sensation. He flips you over and pulls your hips up. He huffs out as he pushes himself back in, chasing his own pleasure this time, nailing you to the bed and all you can do is continue to take it.  Your mind swims as you let out a sob; you’re so deep in a trance that you barely register his finger at the edge of your asshole again. He pushes in slowly, first knuckle breaching the tight ring of muscles as you tense up around his thick finger. 

“I knew you would love being the Covert slut; you always need so much to be satisfied,” he sneers, voice dropping even lower as he continues to mock you as his thick cock continues to work your hole and his finger fully breaches your asshole. “Maybe we won’t stop until we’re sure you get pregnant huh? You won’t ever know who the father will be since you won’t ever see their faces.”

 You’re nonverbal at this point, your litany of ‘yes Daddy’ and ‘more please’ muffled by the pillow.

“I guess we’ll just have to hope it looks like me huh?”. You groan, too overcome to do anything but moan.  

“Gonna give us warriors babygirl?”. Din snaps his hips particularly hard, you’ll be feeling the smack of his thighs against yours in the morning. 

You can feel yourself getting closer, the combination of the obscene image he had planted in your mind coupled with the press of his cock at your back and the fullness of his finger in your asshole was getting to be too much. You grip the sheets in a vice grip, mind falling into the web Din painted, of you on your knees, collar tied to a post, all your holes dripping with cum while the other Mandalorians all take a turn at you. So filthy, and you love it. You know nothing would please Din more than your complete and utter submission, and if that involves the entire covert or Paz and Boba, so be it. 

Din’s hand comes back up to your throat, and squeezes, playing with your breath right as his other hand inserts a second finger inside your asshole. You clutch at the hand wrapped around your neck, feeling your head swim, closing your eyes as you bounce up and down on his cock.   

He growls, biting into the shell of your ear, “Aww baby are you drooling?” he smears your spit across your cheek with his thumb. “Look at you, you’ve only cum once, and all of this is already making you cockdumb. Might have to call Paz and Boba in after all.”

You could only mewl in affirmation, mind floating, body only anchored by the points of contact made by Din’s hand on your throat, his cock in your pussy, and his fingers in your ass. You feel so good being used like this.  

“I love it when you’re like this babygirl, so helpless for Daddy,” Din growls in your ear. His eyes are hooded as he chases his own orgasm, the rhythm of his hips becoming more erratic. 

“I-I--” your tears break free, running down your cheeks as you struggle to form coherent words. 

Din is unaffected, unrelenting in his thrusts against your walls. “Tears aren’t your safeword babygirl. You can do better than that.”

You manage a moan, barely registering his words, cries reverberating around the room as he knocks the breath out of your lungs with each thrust. “Tell Daddy you love this.” he hisses. 

“I-I fuck, oh, oh, iloveitdaddypleaseplease,” you struggle to find enough breath to answer him, mouth dry from all your panting, Din’s hand unrelenting across your throat. 

“I know you do baby. Is it getting hard to breathe? It’s okay, Daddy’s got you,” his voice full of pride as he rails you, splitting you open, filling the room with nothing but the sound of his cock moving in and out, his hips slapping against your ass. “So good for Daddy fuck-- I’m gonna-- this pussy is too good--such a good girl for me.”

His words fill you with warmth, and you squeeze your pussy against him right as he pulls out. Din moans, his hand letting go of your throat, looking for more leverage as he gets closer to his own completion. “Make a mess all over me babygirl, it’s o-okay I got you,”. You wail and sob as he pushes you over the edge again. All you can hear is your garbled ‘thank you Daddy thank you’ as you thank him devotedly over and over again.  All the tension drains out of you, leaving you boneless on the bed, only held up by the fingers still in your ass and his cock. 

“S-shit. You made a mess all over me f-fuck, oh fuck.” Din groans as he finishes inside you, filling you with warm cum. He pulls his fingers out and collapses on top of you. Din places his head against yours, peppering kisses all over you as he pulls out, his cum oozing out of you. It’s quiet as you both catch your breath. 

You open your eyes blearily, “Fuck.” is about all you can manage before giggling, the endorphins making you feel so good. You can feel Din smile as he lifts himself up, pushing you back on your back. He looks ethereal, hair sticking to his forehead, sweat dripping down his body as he gazes at you fondly. You reach up and caress his face and he leans into your touch. 

“How do you feel?” he murmurs, warm brown eyes on yours, laying a kiss on the back of your hand; ever the gentleman when he wasn’t busy degrading you at your request. 

You stretch languidly, a little sore, but no more than usual. “I feel great actually. And you?”

Din smiles softly as he caresses your face, “Never better,”. You love all these aspects of him, the bounty hunter, the Mandalorian, your lover. Nothing made you happier than getting to share these moments with him. The two of you lay there for what feels like eternity, happy, sated, no concerns, just kissing each other softly, coming down together. You feel your eyelids close.

His voice brings you back from the edge of sleep. “Sweet girl...we need to clean up,”.

You blink at him blearily, “Ah right...I made a mess,”.

“We made a mess,” he chuckles, pulling you up into his arms (how did he still have all that energy?) before depositing you in the tub and turning on the warm water. Right as the water covers your shoulders, he gets up. 

“Where are you going? The water is niiiiice.” you say as you make a big show of sinking into the bath. “Although not as nice as your ass.”

He smirks, “I need to send a message to Paz and Boba. Got exciting news for them,” he says as he turns towards his discarded armor. 

Your eyes widen. Wait what? 

--- 

I regret nothing lmfao. This is 100% me procrastinating from the fact that I have six months to finish writing my dissertation nbd. The line “you should be in museums” and “pussy under lock and key” is from Megan thee Stallion’s Sex Talk and Dance respectively. As always, comments/reblogs/keysmashes are always appreciated and give me much serotonin :)

Might do a part two with actual Boba and Paz but there are only so many euphemisms for cock that I know of ahaha. 

[sirloozelite]

Vader checks his old group chat

Scene: Fortress Vader. Darth Vader is bored with nothing to do. Out of morbid interest he logs into his old Clone Wars group chat. 

‘SkyGuy’ has changed his named to ‘Lord Vader’

Lord Vader: That is better. 

Fulcrum Prime: Booooo!!!

Captain501: You kriffing traitor!!!

LonelyWanKenobi: :(

Lord Vader: Oh great! It’s you three traitors!

Fulcrum: You’re one to talk!

Lord Vader: CT-7567. I order you to comply with Order 66 and kill Tano immediately. 

Fulcrum Prime: >:(

Captain501: Tried that once. Didn’t much like being under mind control! Plus she kicked the 332nd’s ass. I doubt I’d last five seconds if she actually WAS trying to kill me. 

Fulcrum Prime: :)

Captain501: Plus unlike you I don’t take enjoyment in killing children!

LonelyWanKenobi: Or betraying his friends. 

Lord Vader: ... you are a traitor!

Captain501: Again... says you!

Lord Vader: Kenobi! Where are you hiding!

LonelyWanKenobi: Far out of reach of you. Why? Where are you hiding?

Captain501: That’s a good question! Hiding somewhere and letting your Inquisitors do all the hard work again are you Vader?

Fulcrum Prime: Gotta say ‘Skyguy’, your teaching methods have heavily degraded since you become a backstabbing bastard. Your Inquisitors suck!

Lord Vader: -_-

Fulcrum Prime: I mean... Rex even killed one the other day with a blaster!

Captain501: Damn straight!

LonelyWanKenobi: It seems the only thing Anakin ever did right was train you, Ahsoka. 

Fulcrum Prime: Yep!

Lord Vader: .. you three are traitors to the Republic and Empire and I will murder all of you and you close friends and family!

Fulcrum Prime: Kriff you! 

Lord Vader: You wanna say that to my face Jedi! If I’m a coward sitting here in my fortress on Mustafar, so are the three of you for not coming to face me in person!

LonelyWanKenobi: Now why would I want to do that?

Captain501: I’d rather not ever see your face again.

‘Fulcrum Prime has logged off’

Lord Vader: Yes... run away as always Tano! You bring shame to my teachings!

Captain501: Screw you! She’s a better person than you’ll ever be!

‘Captain501 has logged off’

LonelyWanKenobi: Well done Anakin. Once again you’ve driven way all of your friends. Are you proud of yourself?

Lord Vader: ... yes? So... a game of Dejarik over the holonet?

LonelyWanKenobi: ... sure

Several hours later, Obi-Wan is winning 5 games to 0. 

Lord Vader: YOU ARE CHEATING AREN’T YOU?!

LonelyWanKenobi: No. I’m just better than you. 

Lord Vader: Kenobi I swear when I find you I will...

Suddenly, there is a massive explosion inside Fortress Vader that blows off Vader’s door. 

Lord Vader: What the fu...

Rex and Ahsoka: (charging into the room with blasters firing and lightsabers ignited) FOR THE REPUBLIC!!!

Lord Vader: OH SHIT!

LonelyWanKenobi: Ah good. My distraction worked. Make sure you cut his head off Ahsoka! And Rex? Aim for his heart, if he even has one!

Lord Vader: -_-

And that’s the story of how Darth Vader died. The end. 

[crispyjenkins]

Crown prince of Stewjon obi and Ven’Alor jango childhood sweethearts

(JangObi Ao3: *congested with dark and possessive and stockholm aus* me: me: anyways here's wholesome JangObi in love  

also for @ironhoshi because i just. i love hosh. and their soulmate fic Drarulam. i’m sorry i keep missing your messages, lovely T0T)

  "Please at least pretend to be concerned about your own safety," Jango begs as they move quickly through the castle halls, and his charge has the gall to laugh at him.

  "I surely don't know what you mean, a mhuirnín," Obi-Wan says lightly, as if they didn't in fact have a mob of pissed-off Gardulla the Hutt supporters and slavers storming the castle as they speak. 

  Jango levels him with a glare, and Obi-Wan at the very least winces. "One of these days, I'm not going to be around to stop you mouthing off to the wrong person, and they're going to decapitate you."

  "That's hardly fair," Obi-Wan says, letting Jango tug him into a smaller corridor and down a short flight of stairs. "After all, it's not as if you've ever not been there."

  "Then you are a fool as well as an idiot."

  "I'm not sure how your father would feel knowing you call your employer an idiot."

  "Don't you kriffing dare tell Jaster about this, or I'll decapitate you."

  Obi-Wan laughs and slips Jango's grip on his wrist to his hand instead. "Another secret between us, then."

-

  “This isn't part of my contract."

  Obi-Wan looks up from the blaster rifle he's trying to unjam with the remains of a droid antenna, as Jango pops up and fires his own blaster out the shattered window, releasing a volley of bolts before ducking back down under the sill. 

  "Isn't your contract to protect me?" Obi-Wan smiles benignly, jamming the antenna into the rifle's entry chamber until he feels a soft click, and the entire rifle starts to hum as it powers up again. 

  "No, my contract is to protect the entire royal family, not just your hyperactive shebs."

  He scoffs and scoots along the floor until he's close enough to slip his hand into the front of Jango's jacket and relieve him of a blaster cartridge, Jango angling himself so Obi-Wan has easier access as he shoots another volley out the window. Obi-Wan actually feels sort of bad for whoever owns the house they've barricaded themselves in, when another window shatters under the blasterfire from the slave runners that they hadn’t been able to lose after escaping the castle. He’ll have to find the owner and pay for the damages, whenever they get out of this mess. 

  "I'm not hyperactive." Locking in the cartridge, Obi-Wan slams the safety off and twists in place to rock to his feet, crouched as he sets the barrel of his rifle onto the sill. Making sure to keep his head down, he lets the Force gently guide his hands until he has Gardulla's lackeys in his scope. "I simply think it's ludicrous that I have to pretend to tolerate that slimy bastard's even slimier followers." He fires twice, then dips back down to let the rifle cool down; not for the first time, Obi-Wan envies Jango's Westars.

  Jango growls. “Where the kriff is Myles?”

  With a snort, Obi-Wan takes out two more human slavers. “Probably trying to get into Cerasi’s pants.”

  “Please don’t make me imagine your sister’s pants.”

  “Weren’t you in love with her when we were ten?”

  “Your highness, please focus on the task at hand.”

  “Oh, we’re pulling out titles, now? Well then, trooper, the one in the blue hat is their leader, and the rest are probably too stupid to make decisions without them.”

  Jango glances down at him, face twisted unhappily, but easily takes out the human with the blue hat; their body jolts and then tips off the roof to hit the stone road in a heap, and the blasterfire abruptly stops. Cowards.

  Settling the rifle muzzle at the corner of the sill to make a mental map of the remaining shooters, Obi-Wan feels Jango shift to pull out his comm, before cursing softly in Mando’a. At his raised brow, Jango holds up the comm.

  “No kriffing signal. Not just a weak one, it can’t find a connection anywhere.”

  “They haven’t had the time to take out the comm towers,” Obi-Wan says, and Jango grunts his agreement. 

  “Not since you mouthed off to them in the throne room, no. They must have set something up before their audience with you.”

  Which has more implications than Obi-Wan really has the status to do anything about with Cerasi still off-world for another cycle, but something like glee fills his chest. “So I could have said anything to them?” he asks innocently, “They were going to attack no matter what I did?” and Jango drags a hand down his face.

  “You’ll be unbearable after this,” he sighs, clipping his comm back onto his vambrace so he can carefully switch to the other side of the window. “How many Twi’lek were there?”

  “Three, not including the one you shot in the hangar bay. I count four humans,” Obi-Wan answers, still smiling because he’ll be holding this over Jango for kriffing weeks.

  “I count five.” Jango checks his blaster cartridge while Obi-Wan quickly finds the last human slaver that he’d missed in the furthest alley. “You have the rooftops?”

  “And the fifth, he’s too far for your Westars.”

  When Jango had first started coming to Stewjon with Jaster, Obi-Wan wasn’t even allowed to know blasters existed, much less know how to fire one. He still isn’t sure how Jaster had weaseled a teaching contract out of the King on top of the first guard contracts, and Jango knows intimately how far Obi-Wan has come in terms of defending himself, having spectated his lessons with Jaster since Obi-Wan was ten. Even a year younger, Jango could wipe the floor with him then, just by virtue of being the Mand’alor’s foundling.

  So the half-smitten look Jango shoots him from across the window has two decades of understanding behind it; even after this long, Obi-Wan flusters under the praise.

  “If we didn’t have people to kill, I’d kiss you,” Jango announces, smile set back into a frown, but his eyes glint in amusement.

  Obi-Wan brushes up against him in the Force instead, because even though Jango can’t respond, he can still feel it. “There will be time later, a mhuirnín,” Obi-Wan murmurs, just to see his eyes crinkle at the corners.

-

  Cerasi is already in the throne room when they finally make it back to the castle the next morning, looking up from where she stands by the war table and immediately closing her eyes in search of patience. Her personal guard, Nield, straightens at her side and turns quickly to hide his sudden guffaw. 

  And Obi-Wan knows they look quite the sight, half-drowned from their escape through the mote with Jango’s helmet conspicuously missing; the sleeved-cloak wrapped around Obi-Wan clearly wasn’t made for him. Soot somehow still smears their faces even after their impromptu swim, and it really doesn’t paint the prettiest picture of their afternoon.

  “Brother dear,” Cerasi says, her tone dangerous as Obi-Wan hops forward to plant a quick kiss on her cheek, “I thought I told you you weren’t to start a war with the Hutts while I was gone.”

  He winces, but still tries to charm his twin with a smile. “This time it really wasn’t my fault, ‘Rasi: Gardulla has been planning this for years.”

  “Mhm,” she pretends to humor him, before turning a raised brow to Jango. “And you, you were supposed to keep him out of trouble.”

  “The only way to do that would be to muzzle him,” Jango says, completely serious, and Nield nearly chokes on his tongue.

  Obi-Wan sniffs in offense, turning to lean against the table and careless of any buttons he might sit on. “I do wish you’d save such discussions for behind closed doors, love.” 

  Jango and Cerasi release a sigh in tandem, that exhausted sort of resignation the only thing his sister and his partner can agree on. 

  “You could always tie him down,” Nield offers, voice strangled as his shoulders shake, his humor nearly vibrating him out of his beskar’gam. 

  “This isn’t part of my contract,” Jango growls — even though any Mando that takes a Stewjoni contract knows that the royal family are almost violently wont to adopt them, if the Mand’alor doesn’t negotiate the terms himself. 

  (Although, sometimes they aren’t safe, even then.)

A mhuirnín — “my dear”,  Irish Gaelic (Google is telling me a different spelling than I grew up with so (ノ*゜▽゜*)?? ) shebs — “ass” or “rear end”, Mando’a beskar’gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy Ver’alor — “lieutenant”, Mando’a

[gmariam19]

Hello! I hit one of those follower milestones that we all like to grin about - thank you! I decided to share something to go with the last moodboard I posted, a story I started ages ago but that stalled out at chapter five. The opening is below, and I'm hoping I can get it going again and post it sometime this fall. I'm sure a few details will change, and I do hope to finish some shorter stories before then. But in the meantime, I hope you enjoy it - thanks for reading! :)

One

Poe already misses the ranch.

It’s been months since he's been home, seen his dad, even had a day off. Spending five days on Yavin 4 is exactly what he needed. He feels relaxed and recharged, ready to resume the job of co-General. He's fairly sure he's gained weight from all the eating and drinking they did, but that was what home was for him: koyo fruit and dark caf, roasted runyip steaks with kibla greens and sweetsand cookies for dessert. He hasn't eaten so well for months, maybe years.

Finn looks fairly content as well. Poe had been nervous about the trip, but it was past time to introduce Finn to Kes Dameron. Poe couldn't remember the last time he'd brought someone home, and he'd been a wreck until the moment his father had stepped forward, raised an eyebrow at Finn's outstretched hand, and pulled him into a tight embrace. Kes's eyes had been bright, and Poe had almost choked up; Finn had been stunned at the warm welcome.

Everything had been perfect after that. In fact, maybe a little too good as Poe had been ganged up on more than once by Finn and his father. But to watch them together, talking, laughing, even cooking (though Finn was a disaster of a cook, so he usually ended up doing the washing) was a joy. It made Poe want a life like that more than anything—a quiet life with someone he loved, near friends and family. It was what peace looked like.

Of course, he would probably be bored after a month, but he could still think about it, couldn't he?

For now, there is still work to do, and part of Poe's plan in flying out to see his dad had been to make a few stops on the way back. The first is Torque, a quick jump from Yavin 4. It isn't the nicest spaceport in the sector, but it's the capital and it’s busy, which means they can blend in and listen, get a feel for what’s going on outside their immediate circle. Finn is meeting with one of Vi Moradi's people to exchange news, someone he'd met on Batuu who happened to be passing through the sector, while Poe is meeting with one of Grakkus the Hutt's pilots for a brief, off-the-record meeting on conditions in Hutt space.

Poe walks to a cantina not far from the landing pads on his own, his senses on high alert. He's in a dingy spaceport in the Outer Rim, a general of the Resistance who still has a large bounty on his head. Armed and aware, he notices immediately when he turns that the street he's on—more of an alley, really—is unusually quiet and empty. Perfect setup for an ambush.

He comms Finn. "I've got a bad feeling about this," he says as quietly as he can. "Good chance someone knows we’re here. Stay alert." Finn confirms the message. Poe unhooks his blaster, speeding up his pace. As he reaches the end of the alley, he senses a presence behind him, and feels a blaster in his back.

"Don't move," says a low voice, a familiar voice.

"Finn?" asks Poe. "What're you—"

The blaster pokes him hard in the ribs, so definitely not Finn (and they don't really play like that in public, anyway.) Poe glances over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of a tall, dark-skinned man, a bounty hunter by the looks of him, though he is close in size to Finn and certainly sounds similar.

"Hands up, blaster to me, then turn around slowly."

Poe raises both hands, discreetly tapping his comm twice as he does, and the hunter takes his blaster. Poe turns and finds himself facing his captor. He's dressed in a black flight suit, with a leather vest and boots lined in red, and he’s armed to the teeth. He's only an inch or two taller than Poe but almost two decades older, short hair and beard shot with grey and a prominent scar running from his temple to his jaw on his right side. He seems familiar, though Poe is almost certain they’ve never met before. Strangely enough, what stands out most are the man’s eyes: tired brown eyes that do not look like the cold, hard eyes of most bounty hunters Poe has met.

The man looks at him with a frown.

"What, not what you expected?" Poe asks. "I get that a lot. It's the hair."

The bounty hunter shakes his head as he pats Poe down, taking his second blaster and a knife. "It's the hair that makes you so recognizable, General," the man says. His voice really does sound like Finn, and his eyes…Poe shakes off the idea. "Maybe if you cut it, half a dozen hunters would stop looking for you."

"Only half a dozen?" Poe asks. "How disappointing. I remember when I was on top of everyone's list."

"Sorry, General," the man says, and there is a wry smile with the strangely apologetic words. "Peace is not as good for business."

"Maybe you need a new business," Poe suggests. He has a funny feeling about this grizzled bounty hunter, as if the man before him is nothing like the image he projects. He doesn't want to hurt this man but talk him out of whatever he’s got planned. Or at least talk long enough for Finn to get there.

"You're actually my last job," the man says, almost conversationally. "There's still people willing to pay good money for your head." He takes out a pair of binders and motions at Poe to lower his wrists. Poe leaves his hands up.

"What if I paid you more?" he asks, lowering his voice and moving closer. "And then we forget this ever happened?" He smiles, turning on the charm, but the man snorts at him, so much like Finn that it’s eerie.

"Lower your arms, General. You can't afford me."

Poe shrugs. "It was worth a try." He slowly lowers his wrists, taking another step closer. Just as the hunter is about to clamp them, he headbutts the older man, sliding a pocket blaster into his palm as he steps back and hits the man with a glancing blow in the arm. The hunter recovers quickly, though, and blasts him in the chest, sending Poe flying backward and into the side of the nearest building. He rolls over and groans, thankful it wasn't set to full stun—or kill. This hunter is even more unusual than Poe thought. The man stands over him and is about to speak when Poe hears the click of a blaster behind them.

"Drop it," says Finn. The hunter turns and shoots so fast Poe barely has a chance to shout a warning. But Finn has good instincts too: he ducks and pulls the blaster from the hunter's hands with his newest Force skill. The hunter looks at his gloved hand in surprise before he tries again with a second weapon, and Finn again slams it aside with the Force.

"I could do this all day," Finn says.

The hunter raises an eyebrow. "Then let’s forget the weapons." He charges Finn with raises fists and they start fighting hand to hand.

Poe drags himself to his hands and knees and slowly stands against the wall, hugging his right side with one hand and wiping blood from a cut on his temple with the other. He hit the building hard and will probably have some colorful bruises soon. He watches the fight for a moment as he recovers from the stun bolt: two highly skilled men, one much older than the other, yet still strong. Poe has the odd thought that it's a bit like watching Finn fight himself in thirty years.

It does not take long, however, for Finn to gain the upper hand and pin the man down, call a blaster to his hand, and press it to the man's neck.

"Yield!" he demands. The hunter got in a good hit and Finn's lip is bleeding, and he's clearly pissed off about it.

"Get off me!" the hunter snarls. "I yield."

"Finn," Poe calls, and tosses him the fallen binders. Finn clamps them behind the man's back and hauls the hunter to his feet.

"Who are you?" Finn demands, but the man looks away. Poe finally figures it out—the clothing, the scar, the stories, and he walks over, moving slowly and still holding his side.

"You're Tenga Idoma, aren't you?" he asks. "I've heard of you, didn't think you worked this side of the galaxy."

"A hunter goes where the bounty goes." The bounty hunter is standing tall and proud, a bruise forming on his left jaw, the wound on his arm small but red and raw.

"I'm the bounty," Poe stage-whispers to Finn, who rolls his eyes.

"Oh, you are both wanted men," Idoma says, laughing bitterly. "I figured I couldn't take you together, so I flipped a chip on who to follow first. I didn't think I'd get my ass handed to me by a former trooper if I followed the pilot."

Poe takes a step forward—always his instinctive response when someone refers to Finn as a Stormtrooper—but Finn stops him with a hand on Poe's arm. He's looking at the man curiously.

"Are you a former trooper, too?" Finn asks.

"I neverserved the First Order." The man spits in the street, so vehemently angry it earns a look of surprise from Finn. "They took everything from me."

"Then why are you tracking us down?" Poe asks. "We're fighting to make sure they don't ever do it again, you know."

The man shakes his head. "I told you, this is my last job. Then I'm done."

Finn looks to Poe with a shrug. "What should we do with him?" he asks.

Poe looks at the man, then back at Finn. The resemblance is almost uncanny. Something—his own instincts, or maybe the Force—prompts him to say, "Bring him with us." He turns to the bounty hunter. "You're under arrest."

"You can't arrest me!" Idoma exclaims, and struggles in his binders, grimacing with pain, but Finn holds tight.

"I'm a general, sure I can," says Poe. Which is not strictly true, but he needs more time with this man.

"What are we going to do with him?" Finn asks. "Why don't we turn him in to the authorities here?"

Poe thinks about what to say, how to say it. "I have some more questions for him," he says. "Come on, let's head back to the Falcon."

Finn looks both skeptical and curious as he comms Vi Moradi's man and explains the situation. Poe calls the pilot he was supposed to meet. The hunter moves reluctantly but does not put up a fight. It feels strange to be taking him in so easily, and Poe can’t help but wonder why—or if something is about to go massively wrong. He tries not to think about who Tenga Idoma might really be, but he can’t help but wonder about that as well.

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober2021 - October 6th - Hunger

Fandom: Mandalorian

AO3

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Note: this is set post-canon

---

The payment is Baskar, which is why Din takes the job tied with it. Normally, Din doesn’t take bounties that aren’t worth his time or sanity, especially when he’s currently already so busy distracting himself from certain black laser-swords and a certain kid that's no longer sitting under the cloak on his back.

He just wants to repair his new (used, broken, got on a discount at some shady market instead of asking anyone for hand-outs) ship. He got in a scuffle in an asteroid belt surrounding some random solar system in the Outer Rim as he was initially just passing by. There were bandits and laser cannons and the next thing he knew he was—for the millionth time in the past his entire life—making an emergency bordering-crash-landing on the closest planet that had any sign of civilization on it.

It’s a planet that’s mostly desert, though not as sandy as Tatooine. It’s a rocky climate with dirt that stains everything red, dotted here and there by bush-like weeds and a determined wiry tree.

He found a mechanic, they told him he didn’t have enough money, and he decided to go to the local tavern to find any kind of work.

The Bartender didn’t have anything, but a group that had been watching him from the second he had stepped in the place did.

They knew of a Mandalorian’s reputation, which is why they knew to bargain with Beskar to get his attention. After that, Din had to take the job. It didn’t matter how much he had lost recently—his ship, his kid, his clan, his identity, everything—he couldn’t just ignore the Beskar sitting on the table next to a small pile of actual money to make it prettier. Soon enough, Din found himself trekking through the hot, barren deserts with these people to help them find a deserter from their local gang. Din didn’t bother to learn their names, or why deserting their gang was such an offense. He just needed the payment to get off this planet and back on his aimless travels.

Besides, this shouldn’t even take long. They know where the deserter is, and while they refuse to let him go alone and handle it himself they at least know of the dangers of this planet.

Just a few days' journey; by foot as to not be spotted by the deserter.

It should be fine.

He didn’t count on the poisonous creatures that lurk the desert grounds, only deterred by a specific device the leader of this group keeps on herself at all times. It’s an expensive little device, he’s told, to get your hands on. For the villages on this planet to survive, they have to have bigger versions of this device all around the borders or else they’ll meet a nasty and gruesome fate by the wildlife. The one she has is small enough to fit on a ring, which is what makes it expensive… and it doesn’t have a very big radius. He’s forced to keep close, practically touching shoulders with someone else the entire way they travel despite there being only five of them in the entire group.

Din first meets just how tedious this mission will be when lunch break comes, and he cannot leave the group to eat in privacy.

He took off his helmet in front of people before… just a little bit ago… but that was for his- that was for Grogu. To save him from the Empire's remnants. He has no regrets about it now; not when the only people to see his face were people he trusted. But here? With four other random people on some planet ridden with gang wars?

He… can’t. This is the way. His way. Taking his helmet off once or twice before won't suddenly change his mind, no matter what Bo-Katan and her group says.

One of the gang members offers him a slice of dried meat, and he shakes his head, saying he’s not hungry.

They shrug, probably assuming he’s some sort of species under all his armor that doesn’t have a fast metabolism, and returns to sit with their group and talk about how happy their boss is going to be when they catch the deserter.

He’ll just wait till nightfall, then he’ll eat when they’re all not watching.

-o-o-o-o-

Nightfall comes right when his stomach is beginning to feel the discomforts of being empty for too long. However, he’s quickly distraught to find that the gang members do not trust him to keep watch during the night while they sleep… and he cannot trust whoever is on watch to not peek at him while he fills his stomach.

They offer him fruits and more dried meat for dinner, but he turns them down.

“You Mandalorians are powerhouses,” laughs the leader of the group, twisting the device that’s keeping them from being killed by all kinds of nasty creatures at this very moment on her middle finger. “Do you ever eat?”

Din doesn’t answer and lays on his cape on the red dirt, ignoring her snort at his attitude and doing his best to ignore his stomach. He’s uncomfortable in his armor, and he feels like there’s no room to breathe despite them being under the open sky. There’s someone to his left, their arm touching his, and if he turns to the right too much he’ll be out of the small radius that device keeps.

He doesn’t get any sleep that night… nor any food.

-o-o-o-o-

“Let me guess, you’re not hungry?” asks one of the gang members in the morning. Din wishes he could say that yes, he is very hungry. He hasn’t eaten since before his ship crash-landed here, and he’s had all night to think about how hungry he is.

But he doesn’t say that. What he does say is: “No. And you should stop asking.”

The gang member shrugs and takes a bite out of their dried meat that’s looking more and more appetizing every time it’s offered to him.

Din resists sighing and silently begs his stomach to keep from grumbling. He can do this, they don’t even have that much further to go before they get to the cave the deserter is camping out in. He’s gone long periods of time without food, sleep, and water before. It’s a challenge he’s had to prepare for from the moment he swore to never show his face to another living creature. Once this is all over, he can eat all he wants from the privacy of his ship or a rented room at an inn.

For now, the others in the group are beginning to walk and Din’s forced to follow along less he wants the venom of a Blood Scrii to turn his insides into liquid… whatever a Blood Scrii is.

-o-o-o-o-

They reach the cave entrance as the red sun is about four fingers from sinking below the horizon. He’s quickly learned that days on this planet lasts longer than what his human body is used to, which does nothing but make him more tired, more hungry, and more thirsty. His stomach has traitorously growled a few times in the last few standard-hours, and his lips feel extremely chapped. Thankfully, he’s managed to keep his body begging for food and water hidden from the others.

The leader slides a pack from her shoulders and pulls out an egg-shaped device the size of his helmet and begins to explain to him that it will temporarily scare away this planet’s predators and give them a big enough radius for any pending fights with the deserter. Because of its large radius, it won’t last longer than a few hours. They set up the device just outside the mouth of the cave, then tell him he’s free to head in there and catch their deserter after pressing a button and turning it on. The device whirs up and begins to hum like it’s already beginning to struggle. Din can only wonder how big and powerful the ones that protect the towns are as he grabs his hand-blaster and goes into the cave alone.

He quickly finds why these people were so insistent at hiring him when he meets the deserter. They’re big and armed with jagged looking swords in each of their four arms.

Luckily, Din’s beskar armor is stronger than the swords, and after taking a few blows that he can feel vibrating into his bones, he manages to take his spear and get a good bludgeon across their head. The deserter shouts and stumbles, but doesn’t go down. Instead, they only get angrier. They shout with raspy anger, charging at Din once again. Din lifts his spear to block, but his stomach suddenly spikes in angry hunger. The pain is so sudden that it distracts him from the charging deserter just enough to finally take a blow to an unprotected spot on his body. The sword tears through the thick fabric around his upper right-arm and into his skin. Din cuts back a shout as he feels the jagged edges of the sword absolutely shred into his bicep and does his best to keep his focus on his opponent before another one of the four swords can bury into his neck.

He punches out his spear and the head buries into the side of the deserter. They howl, stumbling back from Din. The sword in Din’s arm follows, cutting through more skin and muscle as it leaves, but still Din pushes through the pain. The gang members said that it’s preferable to have the deserter alive, but they won’t cut his pay if he’s forced to get lethal. Din’s too injured, exhausted, starving, and dehydrated to give a crap about preferences anymore. He uses his spear that’s still buried in the deserter's stomach to shove them against one of the cave’s walls. Then, he grabs his blaster and shoots them right between the eyes.

The deserter gurgles on their yellow blood, then falls to the ground: dead.

Din tugs his spear out of their stomach, then stumbles. His vision is suddenly very blurry, and his energy is so low he can barely stand. Without thinking, he shoots his injured arm out to the cave’s wall, but shouts as his injury spikes with agony.

“Mando?” a voice calls from the outside of the cave, but Din doesn’t try to answer. His body seems to finally decide to show how angry it is with him by making his sense of balance completely disappear. He falls to the ground, panting and dropping his spear with his good hand to clutch at the gruesome wound in his arm. He hears someone call for him again, but it's so far away.

Everything crashes down on him there. How long has it been since he’s last drank water? Eaten? Slept? He can't tell if his swirling vision and draining energy is from his own self malnourishment or if it's from the very bloody wound in his arm.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to catch his breath, but then he finds he’s so exhausted that he can’t open them back up.

Consciousness deserts him then, and he falls into blackness soon after.

-o-o-o-o-

He wakes to a tugging on his arm. Immediately hyper aware, Din pulls out his vibroknife and holds it at the throat of the person who was just trying to take off the Beskar pauldron on his shoulder.

“Woah!” they shout, scrambling back and holding their three-fingered hands up in surrender.

“Mandalorian, we’re not going to hurt you,” another voice says. Din blinks, his vision swirling, but eventually manages to make out a familiar figure a few steps away. “You’re injured,” the leader of the group of gang members says softly. “We need to take off the armor around your wound to treat it.”

Pain shoots through his arm and he hisses, dropping his vibroknife as his hand spasms. Once again, he’s used his injured arm accidentally. The gang member approaches again, and Din allows them to. He uses his good arm to take off the pauldron himself then sits still as they cut some of the fabric away to reveal his gruesome wound. The leader leans closer and winces, then looks at Din.

“I knew you were human,” she says. “A wound like this wouldn’t take a Mandalorian down so easily. There’s more to it, isn’t there?”

Din stays quiet, but his stomach rumbles traitorously; this time it’s heard.

Thank the stars for his helmet, because a blush rushes to his cheeks as the leader grins at his discomfort.

“You’re lucky you landed on a planet of people who could care less about what the rest of the galaxy categorizes as luxury. We’re out here just trying to survive a planet full of things that want to kill us. Beskar… money… it’s all useless in the grand scheme of things. If you didn’t want to show your face to eat, we would have turned away,” she says.

“You would turn your back from me to eat,” Din replies, deadpanned, “but won't trust me to not stab you in the back while keeping a night watch?”

“A few hours at night when the creatures are most dangerous is a little different than a handful of minutes when the rest of us are awake,” she replies smiling.

The gangster treating his arm suddenly splashes something painful on his wound to clean it. Din clenches his teeth, then curls the hand of his good arm as his wound begins to seal itself shut.

“There’s just enough to stop the worst of the bleeding, but we’ll have to wrap it for the trip back,” explains the gangster, dropping Din’s arm.

Suddenly, a pack is dropped in Din’s lap as the gangster backs away from Din after wrapping his arm. Din glares through his visor at the leader who threw the pack on him, then uses his good arm to open it and look at the contents. Inside, he finds dried meat, some fruits, and a flask of water.

“There’s still some time left,” the leader explains, clearly indicating to the device outside the cave. “Get your energy back in privacy, we have a long trip back to town.”

Din can only nod as the group leaves the cave. The second they’re gone, Din takes his helmet off and watches the entrance out of the corners of his eyes wearily.

He goes for the flask first, and never before has water tasted so good. He downs the whole thing, gasping when it’s empty. There’s a good amount of food in the pack, which he assumes is all for him. He doesn’t eat it all, however, less he wants to make his stomach upset after being empty for so long. The meat tasted as good as it looks, and the fruits gave him even more liquid to cure his dehydration. Once he's done, he closed his eyes and takes several deep breaths.

This… could have gone so much more badly than it had.

He lets his eyes rest and allows himself to enjoy the feeling of a satisfied stomach before he’s called for outside the cave. He opens his eyes and glances at the corpse of the deserter, allowing just a little bit of curiosity to sneak into his mind on what they’ve done that warranted death to these people. What do the gangs mean to these people, when things like money and luxury don’t matter.

He sighs, kills the curiosity on the spot, then bites back a groan as he rises to his feet.

The others are waiting for him, and when he exits the cave he notices a second ring on the leader’s finger. Perhaps it wasn’t about deserting at all, but about the device that they stole when they left.

Regardless, the trip back is easier than the trip there. He’s reluctant to trust them to turn their heads while he eats, so the leader gives him the second ring with a stern warning that they’ll make sure his ship never leaves this planet if he doesn’t return it in fifteen standard-minutes. He takes the ring, some food and water, and leaves to sit along on the other side of some thick bushes. He watches in morbid amusement as a red and green scaled creature scurries away through the sand and out of the ring’s diameter as he takes off his helmet to refresh himself. He also uses this opportunity to empty his bladder.

He returns the ring, and the leader promises to give it to him again when the next meal time arrives.

That night, he isn’t allowed to sit watch, but he does get some rest.

Eventually, they make it back to the city, and Din takes note of the giant poles that stick from the earth with large spheres placed on top and spread around like lamp-posts. They thank him and give him his Beskar and money, then he gives his money to the mechanic to fix his ship.

He spends the night in a local inn, eats his fill and even indulges in a little bit of wine, before he lays in the bed and gets a very rejuvenating rest.

He dreams of a child, one he’s never seen anything like. One that’s snuck through his armor and into his heart. They coo when he calls their name. Their little hands feel soft on his bare face.

He wakes, and sighs, then goes to his newly repaired ship to try once again to go nowhere important besides away. He ignores the laser-sword he keeps untouched on his belt, marks the planet down in his logs as a potential safe place if he ever needs to crash-land again in this area, then takes back to the stars knowing that while things suck and hurt like a bitch, at least there’s still some kindness left in the galaxy.

[o-wise-corvid]

Oooookay guys! Here’s the prologue to my little fic idea. It’s um... it’s gonna be depressing okay so if you can’t handle some gut wrenching emotionals, leave this for another day. I really hope y’all like it and I’m gonna try to get at least one update in a week. Anyhoo. Enjoy.

People who were wanting more: @captainrexisboo @clonetrooperrights @koskareevesismyqueen @gospelofme @jgvfhl @ct-27-fives @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life

TAGS: PG-13 tops/mention of deaths/battle trauma/PTSD/ nightmares/ self-loathing thoughts/ um... If y’all see something else I need to tag, holler. Oh and if ya wanna reblog, go right ahead.

Prologue- Captain Cody

A varactyl death scream. The echoing sounds of blaster fire. His own voice repeated over and over, bellowing orders, shrieking in pain. He watched the Jedi fall. Obi-Wan turned himself over in midair, determined to survive. The commander’s arm was still lifted in the kill order gesture, two fingers pointing at the target. His arm. “Blast him.” Words formed easily by his mouth while the inside of his head screamed, fighting his own bones and muscles.

Cody’s eyes snapped open and he cried out wordlessly, relieved to find himself in his bunk, shrouded in the dark, legs twisted up in sweat damp covers. He lay still, trying to bring his breathing under control.

“Captain?” The black protocol droid that had been assigned to his quarters snapped to life and turned hollow, yellow visual sensors toward him.

“It’s fine, Sixthree.” His voice sounded ragged in the hollow, stuffy echo of the room.

Cody sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his bunk with a groan. His hips and lower back protested, popping as he moved. He was getting old and feeling it. Standing, Cody shuffled to the refresher and braced himself on the little sink that stood directly opposite the door. The squared off, slightly warped mirror betrayed more than his body ever could.

His hair was silvered at the temples and around the back of his head, thinning up top. He’d been considering going totally bald for a while now. Just to be done with it. Wrinkles spread out from his eyes in webs, carving furrows from his nose and down the sides of his mouth, creasing his forehead. The scar framing his left eye was more like a crevice now, pulling his eyelid down a little. His body wasn’t as lithe and flexible as it had once been, though he’d like to see one of the fit new Shinies take on a spider droid up next to him.

“You look rough, Trooper.” And then he smiled dryly at himself, scratching the stubble on his chin and cheeks absently.

A sick ache left from the dream curdled in his guts and he splashed some lukewarm water on his face. The memories of the Order didn’t seem like they would ever ease. The hatred of what he’d done followed him like a shadow, literally everywhere he looked, the result of his contribution to the Galactic Empire slapped him across the face as if on purpose. The monster had risen from the seeds sown by what most people now called The Clone Wars and it was huge, dark and ugly.

Obi-Wan. Cody gave an audible hiss at the thought of his name. The Jedi had been his friend, had saved his life, and how had he been repaid? With a watery grave, a shot in the back from his own Troopers. Guilt, old and familiar made him tighten his grip on the sink, the flimsy plastisteel groaning under the force he exerted. There’d not been a man in he galaxy that Cody had respected more and a faint glimmer of hope that his actions now would’ve made The Negotiator... what, proud? Not hate him because of what he’d done, the way he did in many other nightmares that made the regular circuit of his fitful dreams.

Cody wasn’t sure. He walked around, issued order about keeping the destroyer he’d been charged with floating, and trained new recruits when he wasn’t looking fierce. Recruits?! Stupid little kids that thought they could ever match the ferocity and skill of Clones. His brothers. There were so few of them left anymore, all spread around, trying to imprint their abilities on people who were not bread to war and battle. It was such numb-skulled concept. The Empire wanted the effectiveness of Clones but didn’t want to keep making them.

“Captain Cody.”

That voice brought him to attention. It was Vader. A chill crept over his scalp and down his spine until it sank into his feet, turning them into blocks of ice. Cody crossed to the communication display that took up most of the living quarter’s space. Vader’s head and shoulders loomed, huge and eclipsing, angular mask staring at him indifferently. He snapped to attention, uncaring that he was only in the black bottoms that he wore under his armor. “Lord Vader.”

The head inclined slightly in acknowledgement. Just after the end of the Wars, Vader had caught him in this state before and when he didn’t address the fact that Cody was naked to the waist and obviously just getting out of bed, Cody realized that Vader either tolerated it, doubtful, or simply didn’t care. He had no idea who Vader was underneath the armor and cape, but his suspicions leant toward a former Jedi. Who in the Force that might’ve been, he had absolutely no clue. The man knew soldiers though and he didn’t antagonize those who did their job and did it well. One thing he knew though was that he didn’t want to get on Vader’s bad side. Cody had betrayed his Jedi against his will, but this man... this man was something else. If former Jedi he was, Vader had slain and hunted his brethren until the mention of them was all but forbidden. If he knew soldiers, then he’d been in command. And there were only a handful of Jedi who had actually led troops, none of whom Cody could stomach the thought of becoming the beast that was Darth Vader.

“Your presence is required in the training yard. I have a new assignment for you.”

“As you wish, my Lord.” Cody answered automatically, without inflection. It was the way a Clone still under the control of the chip would sound like and Cody was careful to hold himself in that tight pattern, not allowing the facade to slip for even a second. If they knew, if anyone so much as suspected...

But his life was cheap at this point and if he had to die, trying to keep an eye on the Empire was a good use of what little time he had left.

He dressed quickly after Vader ended the transmission. His armor was not dissimilar from that which he’d worn nearly all his life, except black was the main color rather than white. It did look nicer, the shiny plastoid gleaming darkly with his signature bright yellow-gold accents. He bore the rank of Captain now, which was more decorative than anything, but even after all these years, Cody felt most comfortable with the weight of his armor encapsulating him. The Imperial insignia across his chest soured that comfortable feeling though.

Vader was waiting for him in the training yard, a thrumming shadow with the breath of a sleeping giant, waiting to reach out and crush anything it decided deserved a slow, strangling death. He was well over six feet tall and made Cody feel like he was looking up into the mouth of some enraged, ravenous beast. But he snapped to, saluted and stood at attention with practiced and even graceful fluidity.

“Captain,” Vader greeted smoothly, stepping to the side. His long cape shifted to reveal a... little girl? Cody’s eyes flicked down at her, seeing the naked terror on her face and it was all he could do not to tilt his head to let her know he was looking at her.

“This child is a force wielder, Captain. She lacks the ability to become as powerful as myself or even as the Jedi who you once served beside, but her talents can be used for the Empire’s service. You will train her in hand to hand combat. Your service record reflects the type of master she will require to be of use to us.”

“Yes sir,” Cody chirped, hoping his voice didn’t betray his total shock at what was happening. “She will... stay with me?”

“She will stay wherever you deem fit. Do not coddle her, Captain.” The command dripped menace and Cody fought the urge to swallow nervously.

“Of course not, my Lord. She will learn or she will die.” The little girl flinched at the word, glancing between the two faceless men. Vader nodded pointedly and left, the cape billowing behind him like a storm, not sparing a further considering moment for the little girl.

“Follow me.” Cody made sure his voice carried an acidic growl loud enough for anyone within earshot to register.

The girl gave a start and then obeyed. Her eyes were huge and dark, dirty and tangled black curls spilling around her face. Her skin would’ve been dark, possibly the same shade as his, had she not been leeched with cold and fright, her hands balled into tight little fists that she kept pressed to her chest.

He led her to his quarters, unsure of where else he was even supposed to take her. No one so much as glanced at them as the odd duo passed through the monstrous ship and Cody wondered if it was out of fear or apathy. Once they were inside, Cody ordered the protocol droid to go find some clothes that would fit the girl and bring in some food for her. The chattery clanker hurried off to do his bidding and Cody locked the door behind it. Then, he turned to look at the little girl.

What was he supposed to do now? Training older teenagers and grown adults was one thing. But a kid? A kid who’d been ripped from her family and tossed on a Star Destroyer with an old Clone, no less. Where was she from? What had happened to her? What must be happening inside her head right now...

“What’s your name?”

She blinked up at him, fear and anger making her eyes over bright, not answering. Instead, she made a frightened little noise and stepped back from him, glancing around for somewhere to escape. She was so scared, so lost. The sight of her did something unspeakable to Cody’s heart and he fought the urge to just scoop her up and hold her. Kids shouldn’t be experiencing this. They should be at home, with family, with people who could provide for them and protect them. This was so wrong. So cruel.

“Hey, hey, no...” Cody hesitated and then slowly removed his helmet, remembering an incident with Waxer and Boil on Ryloth in what felt like another lifetime. The helmets were scary back then; he probably looked like some sort of predator to her. Sinking down on one knee slowly, he leveled his eyes with hers, hoping not to further terrify his new charge. “I’m Cody. I’m not gonna hurt you, little one. But if you’re gonna survive this, you’re gonna have to trust me.”

She stared at him, breathing hard. There was no way he could get her off the ship and back to safety; her home was probably a crater by now, wherever it was.

“I... come here.” He reached for the blanket crumpled on his bed and tugged it free. “I know it’s cold. You’ll get used to it. Especially once we get you some decent clothes.” He opened it up to her, inviting her to take it. She didn’t. The dark, wide eyes watched him, tears spilling over and down her cheeks. Cody didn’t expect to feel a lump form in his own throat but there it was.

And that was when the world of Trooper CC-2224 shifted.

Something clicked, almost audibly, inside Cody’s head and the running, yowling script of “How am I supposed to do this?” halted, erased itself and was replaced with one firm sentence: “I’m going to do this.” Because of course he was. There wasn’t another option. He might’ve betrayed the Jedi, he might be still serving the Empire despite having slowly but surely shrugged out from under the control of the chip in his brain, but he was not going to just allow this little girl to suffer if he could possibly help it. For all his failings, for all his regret and self-hatred, this little girl could be the one thing that he finally got right. She needed a family, a protector, a provider... well... she had one. If this was coddling, then he guessed he’d just have to make his peace with disobeying a direct order, come what may. There really wasn’t any other choice.

“It’s okay, precious. I’m not-“ His breath left him as the girl flung herself at him. He wondered for a split second if maybe his epiphany had somehow shown through on his face as the girl’s momentum sent him rocking backward a little. It didn’t really matter though. This was where he realized he wanted her, safe and wrapped up in his arms. The relief of being able to comfort her somehow bled the strength out of him like a wound and he sat down with a weary sigh.

Skinny arms clutched around his neck and the cries of a child who had seen and felt too much too soon tore the air the quiet room. They stabbed at his chest, sounding too much like the green varactyl as it had fallen. “Easy, easy,” Cody tried, eyes stinging. He let the little girl cling to him as hard as she wanted, rubbing her bony back soothingly. He wanted to say something, to find the magic word that would make the pain that was this small creature lessen. But there were none, he realized as he swiped angrily at his own wet cheeks.

“You’re gonna have to trust me, okay?” he repeated after a long minute, having wrestled his emotions down to where he thought he could keep them still. “You’re gonna be okay.” Whatever was going to happen with this little girl would not be easy but in no way was this something he’d miss. Toss her off on some underling? Step in to check on her once a week? Unthinkable.

She grew still and then stepped back a little bit, hands still on his shoulders. Swollen, red eyes. Streaked, grimy cheeks. A dress that was mostly patches and frayed edges. “Cody,” she tried, and managed a wobbling, watery smile.

He smiled sadly at her, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “That’s right. You... you can either tell me your name or if you’d like, you can have a new one.” What made him do it, Cody wouldn’t be able to say for several years. But the ultimate reason was that this little creature reminded him so very much of his brothers. He’d never held someone, let them cry on him and felt their body heave with sorrow, that wasn’t one of his brothers.

“I can pick a name?” A curious, almost happy note crept into the girl’s voice, which was high and sweet.

“Sure. I picked mine.”

She frowned but it was more curiosity instead of something troubling. A grimy hand came up and dug the heel of her palm into her eyes, then she gave a loud sniffle. “Your parents didn’t give you one?”

“I didn’t have parents,” Cody said simply. “I had brothers though. Lots and lots of them.”

The girl’s face brightened but then fell. “My parents are gone, too.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Cody cupped her face in his hands, trying so hard to be gentle. “But you’ve got me. I’m gonna make sure you’re gonna be okay.”

Her eyes glistened but she didn’t start sobbing again. Instead, she reached up and traced the curve of Cody’s scar with one finger. If there had been some part of himself that Cody had been withholding from committing to keeping this girl alive, it was now officially and unconditionally surrendered. He expected her to say something about the scar, but instead she asked softly, “Could I have my Mama’s name?”

“Tell it to me.” He actually impressed himself with how steady his voice sounded because inside, everything felt like it was breaking and twisting, reshaping itself into something not unpleasant but not easily made.

“Gaia,” she said quietly.

“That’s lovely.” Cody smiled, a tear that he hadn’t watched closely enough slipping down his cheek. The little girl saw it and daintily brushed it away. “You sure about it?” he asked, clearing his throat to try to hold some part of himself together.

“... Yeah...”

He pulled her into another hug, which was warmer than the first. She curled into him like they’d known one another her whole life and Cody, now so exhausted that all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and never get up, leaned back against the wall with a tired grunt. “Okay, Gaia. Okay.”

[mell-bell]

Fight so dirty (but your love so sweet) - Part II

The Mandalorian x Reader

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

Words: 4773                       

Series Summary: You are sent to hunt down a Mandalorian, the odds aren’t exactly in your favor

Chapter: 2/8

Author’s notes: I did NOT expect the love that I received from the first part of this so I just want to say thank you for all of your messages and responses you have made my week! Literally cried reading all of them. I wanted to have this up sooner but it became long as shiiiit so lots of editing and there may still be mistakes so apologies because it’s late and I’m tired haha. But worth it for you guys. Pretty sure I tagged everyone that asked, it not please just let me know! Anyways I hope you enjoy!!!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had prayed for darkness. But it didn’t come.

As you laid motionless on the ground, you knew the end was near. And there was nothing you could do about it. No one could save you now. Not even your Mandalorian.

You weren’t sure how long you had been there, but soon after the fire died out you felt your limp body being dragged against the ground, the rocks buried in the sand beating into you, birthing more bruises.

When the ground beneath you became smooth and solid, you knew you had made it back inside. And although it was a welcome relief to your body, you could only imagine what awaited you.

The men dragging you stopped abruptly, your body jerking in their hold, a groan escaping your throat.

Loud footsteps echoed across the empty walls in the hall, until two boots stopped in front of you. You swallowed hard before looking up and meeting an unknown man’s eyes. They were dark and sunken.

On either side of him stood Stormtroopers. It was then that you knew your initial suspicions had been correct. These were the men hunting down your Mandalorian and your little green friend. You could only hope that they were far away.

The older man stepped up to you and you flinched as his arm moved forward, his gloved hand slapping across your face. With a stinging cheek, you turned your gaze back toward him, meeting his eyes. His own widened minutely as if he was surprised you dared to look at him.

“Seems we have a fighter.”

He waved his arm, motioning for the troopers and men to follow as he turned on his heel.

The bare halls passed you by as you were dragged along, your gaze searching for any means of escape. But you found nothing. Just one door at the end of the hall that was quickly coming into view.

The door opened and a cold jolting gust of air settled deep into your bones as you descended the stairs.

When you reached the bottom, the contrast to the world above was disturbing. The cold stone walls seemed to be caving in toward you, the unlevel stone floor cracked, fresh blood still evident on the ground. You began to struggle against the men holding you, but their grips just tightened.

Rather unceremoniously, you were thrown into a cold and damp cell. You turned just quick enough to watch the door slam shut behind you.

And then you were alone.  

You pulled yourself across the filthy ground until you propped in a seated position against the wall.

Carefully you began to move your limbs one by one testing for broken bones or dislocations. When you thankfully found none you moved to push yourself to your feet when a twinge shot through your side and you fell with a yelp.

Tears streaked down your face as you clenched your hands tight, nails biting into your skin. You took a deep breath before pushing yourself up, your head rising, almost thinking for a second that a familiar gloved hand would be there to help you.

But it wasn’t.

You managed to make it to your feet, and as you swayed unsteadily, you took in your surroundings. Stumbling to the corner, you tried to dig at the walls in desperation, your hands turning bloody as fear settled into your bones. There was no way out of here.

With a scream of defeat, you fell to the ground in a slump.

A part of you waited for your Mandalorian to come bursting through the door. But logically you knew he wouldn’t come for you. Why would he? He had to protect the child.

You tried to rest. Tried to prepare for what was coming. You had been kidnapped before. Been tortured before. But not by members of the Empire. Commander Trax was right, you were as good as dead.

You closed your eyes but sleep wouldn’t come.

Haunting wails echoed through the stone walls and you wrapped your arms more securely around you trying to ward off the cold.

Hours passed by... And when they finally came for you, you were ready. You knocked three of them out before they were finally able to take you down.

And then you were taken to their leader.

This man. The Client as he called himself, was determined to make you talk.

He threatened. Had you beaten so frequently you were becoming numb to the pain. 

He had become so furious one day that he had a trooper stab you so deep in your side you had lost your breath. But even after that you still remained silent. He just sighed and had the troopers take you away.

It must’ve been at least a day later when you snapped and stabbed one of the troopers with a rock you had sharpened in the dead of night.

And from that moment on you, your arms and legs were shackled at all times.

He never let you have a moment of peace.

He would continue to call for you again and again. Threaten you. Beat you. Ask you the same questions over and over about the asset.

But all you did was lie on the ground, silently taking it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It could’ve been days later when the door finally opened again. Expecting it to be the Stormtroopers again, you just laid there on the ground, defeated.

But when you felt someone pulling at your chains, you looked up. It was a different man. He was much younger than the man in charge, donning a white coat, and wearing some strange type of eyewear. You had seen him lurking in the back of the room while they interrogated you.

“Who are you?” You said squinting at him, trying to steady your blurry vision, your head throbbing from the bright light in the room.

The man was twitching, wringing his hands together as he threw rapid glances at the door to your cell, “Is the asset safe?”

Your head swam and you mumbled something incoherent.

The man reached out shaking you hard and you flinched at the pain it caused.

“Is it safe?” He said louder.

You nodded.

The man visibly relaxed and your brows furrowed.

“Why do you care?” You mumbled.

Startled, the man stood abruptly.

“No, wait!” You reached out toward him, falling from where you had been propped against the wall, “Where are you going?”

“Keep him safe.”

And then he was gone.

The next time you woke, you felt a familiar gloved hand brush across your face and you almost wept in relief.

It was him. He had found you.

Something soft and warm wrapped around you, and you pulled it closer, trying to breathe in the scent you had become so used to.

Through the dark, you tried to reach out to him.

Arms wrapped around you, carrying you down the hall. And as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you tried to catch sight of his helmet. Just to know for certain that he was actually there.

But then you were dropped to the ground.

Your eyes opened.

And the man before you sighed.

“I knew I should’ve just killed you.”

“So, why haven’t you.” You croaked. You had been certain he was real this time. That he had actually come for you. But he hadn’t. This reoccurring hallucination had been haunting you for a while now. Thinking you were saved when in reality you were still a prisoner.

The Client began to pace, but your eyes were drawn to the strange man in the white coat standing behind him, wringing his hands. You met his eyes for a minute, before he looked away, scurrying from the room.

��Because I’m curious.”

Your brows furrowed, turning your attention back towards the older man.

“About the Mandalorian.”

Your heart was pounding as you tried to furtively glance around the room. This was the first time he had mentioned the bounty hunter.

“Ah, so you do know him. He’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

“That’s what I would like to know. You must have been to his hideout. His ship.” He questioned, stepping up close to you.

“No.” You lied.

The man huffed before reaching out threading his fingers through your hair, roughly pulling your head back.

“No more lies. You have wasted too many of my days.”

You spit in his face, but he didn’t even flinch. He pulled back slowly and wiped off his face with a handkerchief. Not pulling his gaze from you, he raised his hand and the door opened, a group of Stormtroopers storming into the room.

“You won’t find him.”

He let out a noise of realization, “You care for him.”

“No.” You swallowed hard, looking away from him.

He tsked, reaching out once more grabbing your chin and raising your gaze to his, “You do know that the Mandalorians are a complex people. He will never let you see his true face, his true self. Why protect him so?”

You bit your lip hard, remaining silent.

“We’re done for today.” He sighed in exasperation.

The Stormtroopers grabbed onto your arms, hoisting you up onto your feet. But as they went to turn you around, you ripped from their grasp and ran up to the man. You got within five feet of him before you felt a blaster aimed at your back.

The man in front of you seemed unconcerned as he looked down at you.

“You’re going to die.” You said.

His eyes flashed and a sinister smile crossed his face before he turned and swept out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had only just been returned to your prison when the door to your cell slammed open, the Stormtrooper who had been guarding the door falling to the floor, blaster burns smoking from his chest.  

Your eyes were wide as you looked out the open door. Before you could even blink a heavily armored man flew past, his arms locked in combat with a Stormtrooper. And your heart skipped a beat as you recognized him.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to smile but then you froze unsure if this was another hallucination or if he was actually here.

You moved slowly, peeking out into the hall watching as he fought, shooting Stormtroopers left and right, knocking them down with his staff, and disintegrating them before they could fall to the ground.

You were in no shape to fight, but when you saw five troopers round the corner at his back, you swung into action, grabbing a blaster off the ground and shooting each of them point-blank.

The bounty hunter must have sensed your presence because when he finished off the last trooper in front of him, he turned slowly, his gaze landing on you.

And you could see the tension pour out of his shoulders.

This was real.

He was here.

You threw him a wicked smile.

Just as you took a step out of your cell toward him, you felt a blaster press against the back of your head. Raising your arms immediately, you dropped the gun in your hand onto the stone floor.

You both watched the Mandalorian shoot a twitching Stormtrooper on the ground before he turned his gaze to you and began walking slowly up to you.

He raised his blaster at the man behind you.

“Ah, my good friend. Come to return the asset? I’ll give you this one in return.” The Client said shoving you forward a little.

The Mandalorian stepped closer, his armor glinting under the harsh lights overhead.

“Though I wouldn’t trust this one.” He chuckled, one arm wrapping around you pulling you tighter toward him so that you covered the majority of his body.

You stiffened in his arms at that comment but refused to pull your gaze from the Mandalorian in front of you.

When he made a slight motion with his hand, you instantly knew what he planned and dropped to the ground while he shot at the man behind you.

Turning around, you prayed to see the man dead on the ground, but he was gone and before you could move to go after him, the Mandalorian threw you over his shoulder as he took off.

You bounced painfully against his armor as he sprinted to his ship. When he made it to the pit, he all but dropped you into the seat beside his before he took off fast as possible, setting course to his nearest safehouse.

You sank into the soft seat and breathed a sigh of relief. You were alive. And safe.  

A small green hand came into view as it reached out toward you and you smiled, reaching over toward him, the child cooing at you.

When you began to feel a tingle in your arm you looked down and watched as the wound begin to knit itself back together.

“What?” You whispered.

An arm pulled you back as the little green child fell back, falling into a deep sleep.

“He does that.” The Mandalorian’s voice was gruff as he pushed the child’s orb into a darker part of the ship.  

“I see. I-”

“Are you alright?” He cut you off.

You offered him a small smile, “I am now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You must’ve fallen asleep because a while later you were shaken awake. You raised your head off of the Mandalorian’s shoulder where it must’ve fallen.

Standing, your Mandalorian offered you his hand, but with a quick look at your bloody hands, you instead grabbed onto his forearms and pulled yourself up on to shaky legs.

“When did we land?”

“An hour ago.”

You tsked in annoyed, “You should have woken me up.”

“You need to rest.” He argued.

You rolled your eyes as you slowly followed him out the back of his ship, watching as he lowered the ramp.

But when it lowered you were met with a line of Stormtroopers.

The Mandalorian shoved you back, raising the ramp back up, the sounds of blaster shots hitting outside echoing through the ship.

“How did they find us?” You gasped.

“It was you.”

“What?” Your heart was beating painfully as he turned toward you.

“You. You led them here. They couldn’t have known where I was going.”

“No, I....” Your hand involuntarily reached down to the cut on your side.

Stepping forward, his gloved hand ripped your shirt up, showing the small incision almost invisible above where you had been stabbed.

“A tracker.”

You took a step back and when you looked back up his blaster was aimed at you.

“No.”

It was if your voice had brought him to life, because he shot forward, pushing you back against the wall. His hand wrapped around your throat, his blaster resting against your side.

You had never been scared of him. Never had a reason to be. But standing there as his supposed enemy, you were terrified.  

“I didn’t know. You have to believe me. What would I gain out of being a spy?” You pleaded.

“You’re a bounty hunter, you work for money. We all do.” His flat voice struck hard as if he had stabbed you straight through the heart.  “You’ve been working for them since the beginning. The Empire.”

You could feel him shaking against you, and you reached up grabbing onto his arm wishing he wasn’t wearing that god-forsaken helmet so you could see his eyes.

“Please, you know me.”

He looked at your hand and for a second you thought he believed you.

But he just shook his head.

“No.”

You growled, “You were the one who invited me along! I was more than fine being left behind but you ‘needed a crew member’ don’t put this on me.” You shoved at his armor, but he didn’t move an inch. 

You took a step toward him, he took one back.

“Tell me the truth.” His voice was low, but you could hear the slight waver.

But you just shrugged tired, “I did.”

He holstered his blaster.

“What did I do to lose your trust? Not turn you in when I found you? Save you from getting shot all those weeks ago? Help clean you up after all your fights. All those talks we had. Do you really think I faked all of that?” Your voice cracking.

When he didn’t reply, you continued motioning to your body, “Did I beat myself up for fun? Broken ribs, a black eye? Do you think I stabbed myself just to keep my cover so I could turn you in?” 

His hands tightened into fists and you took another hesitant step forward.

But before you could speak, the ramp to his ship burst open and Stormtroopers began to pour in.

You flinched as the crate next to you shattered into a million pieces.

The man before you had turned away from you, running down the ramp throwing a glance back at you and his ship before diving into the fight.

You followed, jumping on a Stormtrooper, taking him to the ground before rolling off him and grabbing his weapon. You shot him before turning blasting another trooper who had just rounded the corner.

“Give me my blaster!” You yelled at him.

Everything was exploding around you but the two of you just stared at each other, the sounds fading away. As he reached down toward the blaster he had shoved in his holster, the world blew up around you. Your body flying back to slam into the wall behind you.

You blinked your eyes wildly trying to get them to focus through the dust. Your eyes were burning and you frantically rubbed your hand across your face, wincing as the dirt from your hands fell into your eyes.

Pulling at your shirt, you scrubbed it aggressively across your face until you were about to make out your surroundings.

Everything was destroyed.

Rubble was falling from buildings and smoke was rising from fires that littered the ground. The combination of dust and smoke made it hard to breathe and you couldn’t see far in front of you. As you tried to call out you choked on the dust and coughed.

You rolled over on your side trying to pull yourself up onto your feet when you caught sight of the Mandalorian lying a few feet from you. Finally stumbling to your feet, you took off towards him. You tripped over some debris, falling to your hands and knees and all but crawled over to his motionless body.

Your hands fluttered over him, hesitant to touch him.

Was he breathing?

As more Stormtroopers exited the building before you, you hauled him up and began to drag him back up the ramp to his ship. A blaster shot landed right by your head and you dropped to the ground, pulling the blaster out of the unconscious Mandalorian’s holster before taking down the offending trooper.

You kneeled over the man beneath you, shooting Stormtroopers left and right. When you finally felt him stir beneath you, you pressed his blaster into his hand before giving him a slight smile.

“I hope you won’t forget me.”

You took a step back and as he reached for you, you threw yourself from the ship, taking the hail of bullets from the Stormtroopers.

You turned, “Go!” You screamed.

And he did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had left.

And you were alone.

A loud explosion sounded nearby and you dove for cover, your heart racing. You reached for your blaster, finding your holster empty. He had taken your weapon....when he thought you had betrayed him.

You couldn’t blame him. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Another explosion sounded and you threw yourself to the ground once more, covering your head as stones rained down around you.

Using your shaking hands, you quickly shoved yourself up and stumbled to your feet, your legs weak from being shackled for so long. You clambered through the rubble, the stones cutting into your already battered hands as you tried to steady yourself. As you slipped into the building the Stormtroopers had been pouring out of, all you found was chaos.

The Stormtroopers had already torn this place apart.

And it was all your fault. You had led them here.

As you ran down the hall, you stopped picking up what looked like a metal bar, which you hoped would pass as a makeshift weapon.

Room after room was empty and you began to give out hope that the Client was still here.

As you continued running, you passed dead bodies, mutilated bodies, people crying, people fighting. The citizens were fighting back against the Stormtroopers and it looked as if they were winning. All you wanted was to stop and help them but you needed to take care of the Client first. With him dead, this whole thing would finally be over.  

When you finally reached the last room, you paused, clutching the bar tighter in your hand before pushing open the door.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

You twisted the bar in your hands and took a step forward. You could see the fear in his eyes.

“Let’s make a deal.”

You shook your head as you grew closer to him, “There’s no deal I would ever want to make with you. You tried to kidnap a child. An innocent child.”

“For the greater good.” He stood up, his eyes mad.

“If this is your greater good I want no part of it.”

“With that creature, we can do such great things. Bring back the peace to this universe that we had under the Empire.” He implored.

“I won’t let that happen.”

“You can’t stop me.” He said, but you could hear the fear in his voice.

“You’re wrong about that.” You smirked, raising the metal bar out like a sword.

The man reached down grabbing a blaster from a fallen Stormtrooper and brought it up aiming at you. He shot at you wildly, the shot going wide hitting a beam in the ceiling. You circled around him and he quickly moved trying to follow you, still shooting erratically, the shots splintering into the walls around you.

A loud cracking sound sounded through the room and you looked up watching a wide crack form in the foundation of the ceiling. As pieces of stone began to fall, you shot forward, grabbing the Client’s wrist twisting it around. You pulled the blaster from his grasp before slamming the bar of metal in your hand straight up through his stomach.

He collapsed to the ground.

And the last thing you saw was your Mandalorian standing in the doorway, right before the ceiling caved in on you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An alarm echoed loudly, the abrupt sound ripping you from unconsciousness.

A coolness spread across your brow and you squinted your eyes as they strained against the bright light in the room.

“Sorry.” A soft voice mumbled above you, turning off the offending noise and dimming down the lights.

“Where am I? What time is it?” You mumbled, pushing the hand away from your face as you tried to push yourself up.

“It’s five in the morning.” The deep voice rumbled before you, gently pushing you back down onto the bed.

Your eyes focused. It was him. He had come back for you.

“Am I in your bed?”

“Yes.”

“This isn’t exactly how I imagined it would happen.”

You heard him snort, and you chuckled lightly, pain shooting through you. He froze, his hands hovering above you, as you caught your breath. Once you settled down, he continued gently cleaning the blood and soot off your face.

He worked in silence.

You wanted so badly to ask him what had changed his mind. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

When he was finally finished he stood to leave, but you grabbed his arm before he could move out of reach.

“I.... would you stay?”

You wanted to tell him that you didn’t blame him. How his training had kicked in. How if you had been given time to talk to him he would’ve seen reason.

He stood motionless for a second, you and him just staring at each other. You were sure you looked worse, but the man himself looked exhausted even through all the layers of his armor.  

He gave a barely perceptible nod and for a second you thought you had imagined it. But then he moved. And settled into the chair beside the bed.

You turned on your side facing him.

You weren’t sure if his eyes were open or not, but you stared steadily at his helmeted face.

Reaching out, you touched his hand that rested on the bed and when he didn’t move it away you threaded your fingers through his and closed your eyes.

Even after everything, you realized the place you felt safest in the whole world was next to him.

“We’re going to talk in the morning.” You murmured.

“It is morning.”

You grumbled quietly before falling asleep, missing the soft caress of his hand over your hair and the quiet, “I’m sorry” that fell from his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a week later.

You were healing slowly but steadily. The worst of the pain coming from your cracked ribs and battered hands. You tried to move around more, but your masked savior had all but forbidden you from leaving the bed for more than a few minutes.

And you were going stir crazy.

He wouldn’t talk to you and he wouldn’t even allow you to see the little green child, because he kept trying to overexert himself and heal you.

However, one morning, he went into town to grab some supplies. And not five minutes after he left, you snuck out of the ship into the forest where he had landed.

It was peaceful. Far from any civilization.

Wrapping a stolen cape around your stiff body, you made your way over to the brook, sitting on a rock by the water’s edge.

Closing your eyes, you took in a deep breath, enjoying the cool air and calming sound of running water.

That’s how he found you a few hours later.

You were surprised when he settled down onto the rocks next to you, instead of reprimanding you.

You ignored him, continuing to play with the tiny child who had joined you outside about an hour before. You threw a pebble into the air smiling softly when he froze it in the air and then shot it across the brook.

When he caught sight of the Mandalorian, his soft coos toward the man who had saved him made you laugh.

After a moment, you broke the silence.

“That man.... was powerful.” You paused, “How did you get away with the child in the first place?”

“I gave it to him.”

Your head snapped to look at him, “You?...”

“And then I went back and killed everyone I could.”

“Good. They deserved it.” You looked down at your hands, still wrapped tightly with bandages, the seemingly never-ending shaking that hadn’t gone away since you had gotten back.

The man reached out, grabbing one of your shaking hands and placing it between his own.

You hummed quietly, as he sat there silently. Out of nowhere, he whispered, “I almost killed you.”

You froze. Neither of you had so much as mentioned it.

But you knew he felt guilty about it. A few days ago, you had gone to hand him his morning drink like normal, but when he had reached for it you had flinched away from him. He had immediately stood and left the room. And you didn’t see him for two days after that.  

You weren’t sure if it was for your benefit or if it was his own guilt. Either way, it had been a tense week for the both of you.

“But you didn’t.” You stated.

“But I could have. I would have.” He whispered. The tremor in his voice made your heart clench.

Turning toward him, you hesitated before you reached out, placing your hands on either side of his helmet. You leaned forward, your forehead meeting the cold of his beskar helmet.

“You wouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” You said.

He turned away, pulling away from you, your hands dropping in defeat.

You shivered, and he reached over pulling the cape that had fallen to the ground around your shoulders.

“What do you think they want with it?” Both of you looked at the little green creature playing in the brook, chasing after a toad jumping on the rocks.

“I don’t know.”

“What do we do now?”

“Fight back.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagged: @sargesbestgirl @abysswhiskey11  @yourfavoritearchangel @pedro-pascal-online @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8 @damnittjim @trickei @countessren @fun-sized-widow-bites @thefandomzoneisdangerous @ichigomiluku @bakerstreethound @clonesdeservelovetoo @bananyaaa @loveleah @javert-delacour @zoogrl05 @live-the-beautiful-game @maryan028 @ignimbritetcax @kaidad @kaimoar @yana-versio @peitromoximaff @alittleraincloud @fuckhead-writer @dottie-witch @nowheredreamer @pandalandalopalis @loveharrington @sw0rd-girlfriend @lex0h @piquantbarnes @go-commander-kim @finefangirl​

[spc4eva]

Star-Burned: Chapter Four

Wordcount: 10,570

Rating: M (18+) for smut

Masterlist

Crossposted on AO3

They were burning it. They were burning your farm. 

Bound and gagged, you had to watch as the two generations of work was being obliterated at the hands of the Empire. Tears ran down your nose, not noise escaping you as you shook on the ground, heat curling off the back of your neck, sweltering and making you swoon. Sorrow, fear, misery, agony. Your greenhouse, the water vaporators -- so much wasted. What was the point? Why would they just burn it? Destroying evidence. Smoting your existence as if it'd never been there, as if you'd never made memories here and grown up in that house. You didn't have much, but all your holobooks, your stupid rock collection, and your clothes were in there. Most of the clothes were just coveralls, but they were still yours. 

It wasn't the material things you sobbed over. No, it was deeper than that. You'd done so many things here and it was all you'd ever known. Now it was ash in the wind, nothing going to remain other than the steel that wasn't burned out, standing as a gloomy sentinel to hint at the atrocity committed. And why? Because you had been kind to someone, healed them, taken care of them... and where was he? He'd said he would be right behind you and now you were beginning to doubt that. What if he'd seen the mess and decided that you weren't worth it? He was still hurt, so you didn't blame him for not wanting to fight five people at once.

Your heart ached, because you thought that... with all that you'd shared, the fact that he'd taken his helmet off... maybe it wasn't that special. Who cared about you? He knew that you were alone and you'd fixed his ship up for him. He was gonna leave and you'd fallen for all his sweet words. Mandalorians killed for a living, he wasn't going to care if you were just another amongst his tally. You had probably been the biggest sucker of them all. Healing him, feeding him, helping him to the fresher, giving him everything you had --- even your body, maybe even a little bit of your heart too. And for what? Fire and death?

"Ready to tell us where he is?" the death trooper bent down in front of you as you wept in the dirt. 

"Fuck you," you sniveled. Everything was gone. You gained nothing out of turning him in. 

"Maybe later," he stood back up and you shuddered at the thought. 

"Hey, looks like we've got movement up ahead."

You jerked your head up, neck aching and cheeks definitely bruised from where you'd been slapped. Narrowing your watering eyes through the smoke you thought you saw... a dewback? What the kriff. The creature rumbled, upset by the fire and smoke, threatening to charge. 

"What do we do?" the white stormtroopers were looking for direction.

"Well shoot it!" the black one exclaimed as if it were obvious.

You got to see the truly unimpressive shooting ability of stormtroopers in action. Dewbacks had thick skin, so all they were doing was agitating it. And then -- fire was returned. What!? How was a dewback shooting? How -- oh, it wasn't the dewback. Even through the haze, the opponent shot back with stellar precision, striking down the two troopers to the left before the dewback reared and charged. Trundling forward, the death trooper tried to square off with it before leaping out of the way. White hot flames ignited, followed by a hissing wine as the death trooper was flung several feet back. The dewback hadn't hit it, but someone else had. 

Flames beating high behind you, so searing that you thought you were being burned by the inferno, the dark blue armor appeared almost black in the manic illumination. The trooper was back on their feet, blaster in hand as they began pacing circles with the opposing Mandalorian. You were mildly delirious and uncertain if what you saw was actually happening pace for pace. 

This wasn’t a normal death trooper. Paz knew it as he matched the strides, ignoring the other two stormtroopers who were trying to deal with the rampaging dewback. He’d heard of this from his sister, that there were Mandalorians who had switched to the Empire’s side to be paid for their work, despite the fact that the Empire had gutted Mandalore and slaughtered many vod. Now, in the feral line of his opponent, he knew instantly that this masked fiend had once been a vod in the precise manner they moved. But he was in dark plastoid, not beskar’gam. And Paz still overstepped him by more than a head. 

The smoke continued to churn forward in a dark cloud and he was wasting time while you choked on the ground. He drove forward, the death trooper knocking aside the muzzle of the rifle before it could find him. The pistol flashed in the mad light of the fire, but Paz’s left hand snapped out gripping the arm of the trooper as he fired, the bolt pinging uselessly off his armor. Had he been a second later, it might’ve struck between the protection of his beskar. Before the trooper could disengage with a well planted kick, Paz twisted, the dominant hand of the Imp making a sickening crack. Dancing backward, the trooper grunted and gripped the broken wrist, blaster having fallen from his fingers in the scuffle.

Ripping a vibro-blade out, his bad wrist was pinned to his chest as he levied it. “Are you ready to go to Manda?” the trooper taunted. 

Even between the curling fronds of his fury, Paz managed to laugh spitefully. “At least I’ll be going there one day. You’ll never walk amongst those halls, dar’manda. Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur.” Any Mandalorian who’d chosen the Empire over their own was weak. Paz thought the man in front of him was chuckle worthy as he leveled a blade, as if he’d have the skill to plant it before he was gunned down. He only knew one person who could pose such a threat to him and she loathed the Empire. 

The two clashed, your eyes widening as you couldn’t make out between the smoke and carnage. But as you blinked through the bleary wet tears, eyes burning. A blaster bolt went off and you shifted, waiting for the haze to clear just as the other two stormtroopers broke around the edge of the dewback that had started its descent back into the canyon. Stepping through the haze was the dark, non reflective glare of beskar. You were already crying, but the tears were now of unadulterated relief that Paz had won the fight and not the death trooper. With your mouth gagged, you couldn’t warn him about the stormtroopers that were now lining up, taking a knee to begin firing at him.

Only one blaster bolt hit him and it bounced right off of his armor. Turning around, he gave them an unimpressed tilt of his helmet before leveling his pistol. The troopers tried again, but were taken down in a laughable fashion, as if they were stationary targets. Once he gave the scene another hard survey, Paz hurried over to you. "We have to go, Tranyc. We have to go-" he cut the bindings on your wrist and pulled the gag down. You were covered in dirt and soot, tear lines running gashes through the darkness on your face. "Stars, what did they do to you?"

You started crying again as his glove met the side of your sore face. "I-I wouldn't t-tell them-" you sobbed hoarsely. "I-I-I'm scared."

"Shh," he scooped underneath your arms. "Hold on tight. Close your eyes if you need to, but you have to hold on." Pressing you to his chest, you wrapped your arms around his neck and clung as best you could, hooking legs to his hips despite the uncomfortable seat of his utility belt. His jetpack ignited again, the source of the white flames you'd seen through the smoke.  The ground was spiraling away, your eyes dropping and you felt... nothing. Just watching the farm become a quavering light in the night, like a single candle's flame across a remote landscape. 

He landed by the Kote, your limbs shaking from exhaustion and being utterly overwhelmed by the most action you'd ever seen in your decades. Wrapping both arms around you, he hurried into the ship, didn't deposit you, but took you up into the cockpit before starting the ship. Flipping switches, the engines starting, and continuing his ministrations as you pressed your face into the cowl of his cloak, trying to dab your tears that kept coming. He had come for you. All that doubt and he had come to save you. You didn't know if you should be happy or upset. He'd come too late to save your home, but he'd come. 

Paz guided the ship out of the canyons and upward, breaking atmo without an afterthought. His skin was hot, rolling with primal fury as you clung to him, crying softly into the fabric of his flight suit. You'd done nothing to deserve this. But he couldn't stop right now. Not until the two of you were in hyperspace. It had taken the Empire weeks to catch up with him, but they'd managed to do it. Fuel was low, he'd need to make a pitstop and Tatooine was grudgingly close. Maker dammit, that was the last place he wanted to go. He charted the navigation and punched the hyperdrive. Fuel was fuel. That's all he'd stop for.

"Tranyc?" he entreated gently, prying you off enough that he could get a look at your soot stained face. He tried to rub some off, which made you flinch. No, that wasn't soot -- deep purple bruises were on your cheeks from where you'd been struck repeatedly. Your eyes were wet and red, but you had a thousand yard stare, the shock of what had occurred glazing you over completely. "Darling, look at me."

You finally blinked, a few tear drops cascading as you glanced up toward his visor. The troopers had done this to you because of him. There was no other reason they would’ve bothered a farmer or beaten them. Not without orders to conduct interrogations. And you had defended him. People’s resolve crumbled for less, especially when their entire livelihood was on the line. Paz already hated the Empire for everything they’d taken, but the fire was rekindled anew. He was livid, looking down at your wet, bruised face, shame and guilt overwhelming him as he hadn’t gotten there soon enough to protect you. Just after promising you that you were safe with him, he’d let you walk into a den of wolves.

"I'm so sorry. I should have been there sooner-"

"Where were you? I-I thought you weren't coming," your voice broke and your lips trembled. "I thought you'd left."

Hearing those words broke his heart, but how could he blame you? Paz hadn't realized anything was wrong, never thought it until he'd spent the better part of his day picking up around the ship, taking a shower, and running a few checks on the engine before stepping outside and noticing a hellish glow emanating from the upper echelons of the canyon. Smoothing your curls, he shook his head. "I'm sorry. I thought I'd lost them, I never thought they'd find me out here, let alone go after you. I should have been there. I should have never left you." 

You nodded slowly and pressed your cheek against the beskar chestplate, the cold metal soothing to your ailing skin. What were you going to do now? Everything you'd owned was gone. "Why were they following you? You never gave me a straight answer, but I didn't think to go poking around..."

"The Imps attacked my covert after I helped one of my brothers escape with a baby that they wanted. Don't know much other than that, but I was one of few who escaped and they must think I know where said brother is," Paz explained. "Whatever they want with that child, it's part of something much bigger than I ever thought."

"One of those troopers... the black one... he said he was Mandalorian. But... he doesn't look like you," you pointed out. 

"He was dar'manda. Maybe he was Mandalorian, raised that way, but he forsook his people to become a death trooper. Many death troopers are dar'manda. Looking for the easiest path with the least resistance, betraying our ways to make credits and be on the right side of the law."

"It's not the right side anyone. The New Republic rules now."

"Where was the New Republic when the Imps attacked you?"

You didn't have an answer, instead you sighed and closed your eyes. "It's all gone," you warbled miserably. Even innocent Jumbles was gone. "W-where do I even begin? I don't know anything about the galaxy. Just home. How to farm and stuff-" Your chest felt as if you'd taken a full on sucker punch and you whimpered in discontent. 

"You can stay here. With me, Tranyc. As long as you need..." he drawled off. This wasn't how he'd wanted to convince you to come with him. He'd wanted it to be a choice, not because everything had been ripped out of your hands. "I won't leave you again. Not unless you ask me to. I promise.”

You had somewhere to stay and a person to take care of you. That felt like such a foreign concept. For so many years you'd taken care of yourself, carrying the burden of you solitude, and tending to your animals. The idea was queer, confusing, and in your mental state it made you scowl, mind filled with a thick fog that you couldn't see through. You had wanted to spend more time with him and part of you had also wanted to see other planets. Maybe one day you would have asked him to take you, once you had a better solution for the farm in the meantime, but it was gone. You were here now, leaving your dustball planet for the first time in your life and that petrified you. Because as much as you rolled with the punches in your day to day life, this amount of change was overwhelming.

Paz could tell you were on the brink of passing out from a combination of exhaustion and mental distress. Aside from going to your home planet when you were young, he doubted you'd been off of it since. 

"I-" you started up again, trying to formulate your thoughts, but the ideas were evading you, running too far ahead for you to catch up and speak. "-don't want to be a burden."

Burden? You were worried about being a burden? Paz's lips tightened underneath his helmet and he stifled a sigh, rubbing circles on your lower back with his palm as he sank into the seat. "What do you want, mesh'la?"

You didn't know right now. Your wounds were still too fresh and deep to make a decision like that. It was such a broad question and honestly, too much for you to handle in that moment. "C-can I help you?" He had just saved your life. In that second, you'd entirely forgotten that you had done the same for him and that technically, this should have made you even. But you were accustomed to working all your life and without that rock solid foundation of regiment you found yourself losing more grip on reality. You couldn't just pitter around the ship or you'd find ways of letting the churning maelstrom of your darkest thoughts beginning to smother you. "Can't fight, b-but maybe I can do things? B-be your mechanic or somethin'?"

Work. You were asking to be put to work. The first bit of direction. You craved it. Everything except for the Mandalorian had come crashing down spectacularly and you were trying to find the first piece to begin rebuilding your foundation on. Work was the most logical place to start. Because you had to work for a living, to survive, and it wouldn't be any different because you were on a ship now. You needed a job for your own sanity.

"I could use a mechanic," Paz revealed, which made you perk up hopefully. "You said the Kote still needs some work. I can make that your job."

Your head was bobbing enthusiastically, hyperfocusing on the distraction from the trauma you'd just endured. Rapidly, you began considering what you remember being on the ship and what you'd require to be capable enough to fix it. "I'd need supplies," you comment, chewing your lip and paling as you realized you needed more than just work equipment. You had lost everything. "A-and stuff."

"Mm," he hummed in agreement, continuing to pet your hair. The sensation was soothing and you melted back against the cool beskar as you rattled out a long exhale. "We'll take care of everything. Maybe not on Tatooine. We'll need to make another stop on a more suitable planet after we fuel up. Why don't you make a list before we arrive?"

A list. You could manage that, but not right now. You didn't want to move right now. Sitting on a man clad in full armor shouldn't have been comfortable, but it was. And you were absolutely drained, face aching, and lungs burning from the smoke inhalation. "Ok," you mumble, clinging onto your Mandalorian as he rubbed you. You were lulled to sleep by the rise and fall of his chest, swaying gently like the rocking of a boat on the ocean, reminded once again that you were safe. As long as he was around, you were safe.

---

He put you to sleep again and when you woke up, you were in one of his oversized shirts. Rubbing your eyes, you glanced around the chamber before getting up. It was cold. Why was it so cold? You grabbed the fluffiest blanket and drew it around your shoulders as you left the captain's quarters behind and stepped out into the hull. Mentally, you had it together a little bit better now, but with that came a soul crushing headache. You were thankful that the ship wasn't brightly lit, mostly just a few amber lights here and there that cast a dim ambiance across the shed. 

You wouldn't call it a kitchenette, because that's not what was beside the table. It was more like a flip down hotpad, a caf machine inlaid on the side, a nozzle for potable water, and a little disposal unit for any trash. From helping rearrange the ship, you knew that the nearest drawers contained rations. Which at best, were meh. They were relatively tasteless ways of gaining the nutrients you needed. Sure, they came in flavors but mostly that was savory or sweet. The differences between something like chocolate or peanut butter were almost negligible. 

You sat down, not really certain where you were going, but you plopped down on a pillow and just stared at the durasteel table. So... this was it now. You were the mechanic for a Mandalorian with nowhere else to go. You knew the other farmers around your home planet, but asking for boarding seemed like an incredibly ludicrous and cumbersome thing to do. You also didn't know if the Empire would attack your neighbors after what had happened on the farm if you tried to stay on planet. It was safer for everyone if you left. 

Funny, you had wanted to have more time with him and your kriffing wish came true. Now you wouldn't be lonely! Your stomach rebelled at your poor attempt to be wry. This was not Paz's fault. From the sound of it, he had been helping his brother escape the Empire and your father had told you before that the Empire never needed a good reason to do terrible things. You'd brushed it off, believing that your dad was just being overdramatic. No one could be that awful. Right? 

But they were and now you felt hopelessly adrift amongst an ocean of things you didn't know. You thought you knew how people reacted, but then again you'd only ever met nice people until the stormtroopers. You knew Tatooine was a skug hole. You knew that there was Hutt activity and slave trading there. See, you knew a great many things from reading and watching galactic news, but you'd never experienced any of it first hand. 

Paz will protect you.

The very thought made you inhale and exhale at a normal pace. You rubbed your face, cheeks still stinging from where the death trooper had slapped you around. Slapped. Not punched, not kicked. He'd slapped you around and you'd been bruised pretty badly. 

"Oh, you're awake," Paz stepped out of the cockpit with a datapad in his hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired still," you reveal wearily. "But it's more... mental."

He trotted over, sitting down beside you and pulling you into a warm embrace. Maker you had needed that, just the confirmation that you weren't alone through this. No words were needed. The display of comfort, his powerful arms carefully encircling you and hiding you from the galaxy... You sighed and pressed into him, uncertain why the small gesture was bringing you to tears. "Talk to me when you need to," he offered softly.

"I like this," you tell him, preferring the way he shielded you and the heat of his body chased away the cold. Oh, the cold. "Why is it freezing on this ship?"

"Hm?" he loosened his grip enough so that you could glance up at him. The two of you were close enough that you could kiss his helmet if you wanted to. "We're in hyperspace. Space itself is quite a bit colder than your home planet. Are you cold?"

You gave glance at your blanket, arching a brow at him to make a point. The silly twist of your lips made him laugh. "You're not cold?"

"No, but I'm used to this," Paz returned and you comprehended a little better. He was dressed from head to toe and had the additional layer of his beskar. 

"You are warm," you grumble, pressing your face into the fabric of his flight suit. He was big, warm, and totally cuddlable and honestly, you were kind of a greedy bitch for his cuddles. The first taste you'd gotten nearly a week ago had set you up for disaster. At least all the tears you had spilled hadn't been over him leaving and one good thing had come out of all of this. But... you were working for him now. What did that mean for the two of you? Well, you were nearly on his lap right now, so clearly there wasn't too much to worry about, but you wondered if there were any logistics you should worry about. "And quite a bit? It never gets this cold in the canyons. Maybe not as hot as Tatooine, but we still orbited around two suns."

How the heck could a planet be so warm, but the space from one to another was this cold? You weren't an expert on planet stuff, just like you weren't a medic. Seems you had a lot to learn. "Tatooine," he muttered, fingers tightening around you subconsciously at the thought. "We just need fuel and then I plan to leave that awful place."

"I know the Hutts used to be pretty active there before the war. What's so awful about it?" you inquire curiously. 

"You might not mind the climate, but it is very hot and dry there. And even with the fall of the Hutt syndicate, there's still remnant activity, slavers, and the overall atmosphere of the planet hasn't shifted much in light of the turn over to the New Republic. It's too far and not much worthwhile for them to chance coming out here just yet," Paz elaborated.

"Wow there's still slavers?" Again, another foreign concept to you. Of course you knew what slaves were, but you couldn't understand how people could do that. How they could treat someone as if they were dirt, less and baser than an animal.

"Not just on Tatooine. There are other places that still allow slavery. Technically, the New Republic has their own form of slavery for criminals. Most have to work in indentured servitude to pay off their crimes."

"But that's... different," paying off crimes and debts in exchange for hard labor seemed fair. Not being held against your will for being unlucky. "Are you wanted by the New Republic?"

"Don't think so," he shrugged. "I try to keep my bucket out of anything that has to deal with them. Fortunately for us, it's only the Empire."

"Yeah, fortunately," you drawl sarcastically, rolling your eyes, but his words make you smile. "So... what are we going to do once we fuel up?"

Paz had a good amount of time to consider this while you were resting. He had been contemplating his course of action and knew that returning to the covert might not be the best idea until the activity with the Empire had settled down. "I know a Guild Master on Dadrus," he began slowly. "The ship costs a decent amount to keep running. Until we're certain that the Empire isn't tailing us, we can't stay in one place for too long. My original plan was to return to my Tribe."

He had very briefly mentioned his people to you and part of you expected the secrecy surrounding them was for their own protection. But now... you felt as if you could ask. "What's it like... with you Tribe?"

"Comfortable. Home," he sighed wistfully.

Immediately your thoughts hitched and you stiffened. You'd not thought to ask it, but now you were really thinking about it. "Uhm... y-you don't have an-nyone-" Anyone that might be waiting for him like a partner or a wife. Would he have slept with you if that were the case? Honestly, you didn't know how Mandalorian culture worked and if that was allowed.

"Aside from the Foundlings that haunt my every step like an army of ghosts, no, mesh'la," he purred. "It's been a while for me too."

That was hard to believe given how dexterous and experienced he was in that field. But his words relaxed you, glad that you weren't homewrecking or expecting to stand toe to toe with another lover. You still didn't know what this was, but maybe it didn't need a tangible name or label. You were content in his arms right now. "So children like you?" You assumed that's what Foundlings were, sounded a lot like Younglings and your father used to refer to children -- of all races and species -- as Younglings.

Wasn't hard for you to imagine why children might like Paz. He was patient, a good teacher, and gentle when he needed to be. But he was also strong and... you thought back to how easy he'd made the fight between the five Imps look. The very death trooper that you'd been unable to writhe free from, he'd kicked to the ground using his jetpack as propulsion. Stormtroopers weren't known for the prowess in battle, but it had been more than you could handle. Easy enough for a Mandalorian. 

"Well..." he pittered off, as if bragging a little bit was not suited for him. "I teach the Foundlings, so they are keen on me."

"I can see that," you murmur against his shoulder. "You're a very good teacher."

"You're just saying that."

"No, you were very thorough."

"Helps that you're an attentive student," he rumbled, pressing his helmet into the side of your face, the same type of kiss that he'd done before. 

"You should teach me more... sometime," you suggest. "I'm a pretty poor shot and if I'm going to be running around with you, I should probably know how to shoot a blaster." 

"Yes," his voice was quiet, barely picked up by the vocoder, crackling with static. "You should know how to shoot."

"I bet I'll get the hang of it in no time with you as my teacher," you gave him a big smile, earnest and bright. While you said these words, you also highly doubted it. Given how well you'd reacted in the face of danger last time, you knew you were just as likely to shoot yourself with a blaster as it fumbled through your sweaty fingers than actually be able to point it at someone with the intention of killing. But you liked the way he taught and it would give you more reason to steal his time over something he was very knowledgeable in. And... your intentions weren't completely innocent. You knew that subject was a bit of a turn on for him. 

"Here," he cleared his throat, trying to blink away the haze of arousal that had blindsided him as your sweet smile. "Use this to draft up a list of what you need. After Tatooine I was thinking of bringing us to a supply stop before going to Dadrus."

"Where we going?" you inquired as you took the datapad. Maker, you were going to need everything. From toiletries, to clothes and underwear, shoes, proper attire that would keep you from freezing your tits off on this ship. Then there was also the question of how many tools you'd need. 

"Dadrus is on the other side of the Outer Rim from here. I was thinking Gala would make a good stop before we arrive on Dadrus," at your clueless look, he continued. "It's a wealthy planet and under the rule of the Republic. There should be plenty of supplies and we shouldn't run into any issues while there. The Empire wouldn't show face on Gala."

"Why wouldn't we just wait on a planet that is governed by the New Republic then?" You point out.

"I'll attract unnecessary attention."

You hadn't thought of that. Mandalorians were not a dime a dozen and on a safe planet, people might grow incredibly wary of his linger presence. The New Republic may even question his intentions. They were typically bounty hunters, so it didn't make much sense for one to stick around in one place for a long time. "So... what if we go between planets that are New Republic?"

"Because the ship costs credits to run," he reminded you gently.

Ah, right and these planets weren't just going to top off the ship with fuel and supplies. Frowning slightly, you chewed your lip and nodded. Damn, there really was no easy way to manage this. You suppressed a sigh, turning your attention back to the datapad as you began drafted up what you'd need. "We should get real food too," you said out loud, not realizing that you might be rude in saying that. "I-I can cook it."

"I do like your food," Paz contemplated before nodding. A warm cozy feeling settled into your stomach at the compliment. "We might be able to find some salvageable food on Tatooine. It's going to take the better part of a fortnight to reach Gala once we leave the sector."

"Wow? Really?" You had no concept of space travel.

"Gala is hundreds of thousands of light years away. Requires navigating through a few different hyperlanes to get there. Even Tatooine takes the better part of a day to get to from your planet."

"Then we must almost be there," you realized. 

"Few more hours," he confirmed. "Here, you should put a little more of this on. I applied it when you were sleeping for your cheeks-" he picked up a bottle on the table, which appeared to be a bacta lotion. You hadn't looked in a mirror since waking up... or since you'd taken a shower a couple days ago. But you didn't feel grimy, so you wondered if Paz had cleaned the soot and dirt off of you while you were a limp noodle. Accepting the bottle, you stood up, immediately feeling the cold of the ship press back around you as you headed over to the fresher to assess the damage.

Flicking the switch on, you had been correct in your assumptions. The ash was gone from your face and the blackened bruising had faded to a sickly yellow. Your cheeks were still raw, but the lotion had done a swift job of erasing the trauma. Still, your eyes were a bit puffy from all the crying you'd done, nose tinged red as if you had a cold. You felt like a kriffing mess, clutching that bottle and staring at yourself for a few long moments, finally blinking and shattering the spell that held you. Just put your foot forward as you'd done everyday on the farm. This was life now and you just had to accept the hand that fate had dealt you. Even if you were afraid, naive, and felt completely unprepared to start exploring the galaxy, you had Paz beside you and he knew what he was doing. He promised he'd never let anyone hurt you and you believed him. Not just because you were too kindhearted and gullible, but because he'd saved you and took care of you. 

Opening the bottle, you lathered your cheeks, the tingling sensation tracing electricity over the bruises and numbing them. You distracted yourself by putting a little too much on, creating big circles of white on your cheeks, making a few faces in the mirror, earning yourself a giggle at how stupid you looked. Shooting. Paz was going to take your dopey ass shooting. Taking your elastic band off your wrist, you put it on your index finger and thumb, cocking it like a gun. Maybe you wouldn't be half bad with a professional guiding you. You made a bam motion in the mirror and the scrunchie flew off, ricocheting off the mirror and slapping you in the forehead. It didn't hurt, but you stumbled a few paces back in surprise. Crap, if that was any indication on how shit of a shot you were, Paz was in for a long day at the range.

---

Tatooine was hot. Way hotter than home. Like ten times hotter than home. Holy shit, why did Paz think you'd like this place? You could feel the suns glaring down at you with the full intention of giving you a sunburn. You'd not gotten a sunburn in years. Usually only your face and arms were bared, so you definitely had one heck of a farmer's tan, but you were feeling it coming on now with each second you stood roasting like bantha meat on a spit. Your hair was probably the worst thing about all of this. You tried to find a way to finagle it, because it was getting sweaty and damp on the back of your neck, but you only had one scrunchie and that was not enough to tie all that fluff into a bun. 

So you suffered, flanking Paz as you started down the sand swept streets of Tatooine. People here dressed similarly to back home in robes in earthtones. There was a lot of haggling, bustling, and activity. What you picked up on immediately was the fact that people parted easily for you. Well, not for you, but for the Mandalorian. No one wanted to touch him as if they were afraid that he'd burn them if they so much as brushed by. He kept you close, hand hovering protectively by the small of your back, almost holding onto your belt. You weren't going to wander away, but you were very curious about everything around you with your eyes stretched wide.

You hadn't seen many other races aside from humans and Jawas, so getting to see Toydarians, Rodians, Dugs, and a motley of aliens was an absolute delight. Maybe Paz did need to hold onto you, because your legs had a mind of their own and you had never feared for walking somewhere unsafe before. 

"Nope, this way," Paz guided you from the direction you had started to list toward, which was a shop of junk, mostly salvaged droids and parts. Not any of the more reasonable places on the strip that had things you might actually need. 

"Where are we going? Is it inside? It's hot."

How was he not overheating in all that clothing? Did beskar have some secret high tech that allowed for him not to sweat his balls off? Hmm, you didn't think so, but also didn't know why he wasn't complaining. 

"We're going to the range. The stations are in the shade," he told you, which was somewhat of a relief. The range? Thinking back to your battle with the scrunchie you grimaced a little. Dear Maker, you prayed, please, please, please don't let you make a fool of yourself. "Fueling up takes a few hours and there will be a delivery of food too. So we have a little time to kill."

The range was outdoors made up of several lanes with targets. Controls were situated in each booth, allowing for the targets to be turned on to create popup simulations. There was a mild bit of activity on site, a few other shooters amongst the two dozen lanes. The worker for the range gave Paz a dubious look, which made you giggle. Almost as if to say 'Why in the Maker's name do you need to practice?' But you two were assigned the middle lane labeled 12. 

"Now, you know basic gun safety, right?" he set his blaster on the shelf in front of him, which met the top of his thighs and was tummy high for you. 

"Keep the weapon pointed away from anything you don't intend on shooting. Finger off the trigger until you're about to shoot," you recalled those very basic lessons from your father. "Weapon on safe until you intend to fire. Treat every blaster as if it's loaded."

"Good," he nodded, making you smile slightly. At least you weren't an absolute idiot. "We'll start with closer targets-" he pressed the range controls, turning up the popups at 25 meters. "I need to get a better idea of your form. So go ahead and take the pistol and fire."

Now you were smiling nervously, reaching over to where the pistol that you'd taken apart the other night was. It was heavy and too big for you. He had mentioned that it was custom built for him and he was more than double your size. Finding the most comfortable way to hold it, you held your arms out, fumbled the safety, and then scrunched up your face as you tried to aim. Pulling the trigger, the blaster shot made you jolt, elbows bucking and blaster smacking you right in the face.

Paz caught your arms before you could do anymore damage, setting the pistol back down on the counter. "Let me see-" he tilted your head up, pulling down the hands that had automatically went to where you'd yammed yourself. 

"Did I hit it?" you garbled, having not been looking. Oh stars, you'd closed your eyes when you shot at it, hadn't you?

Paz was quiet, confirming your suspicions. His thumb brushed the tiny bit of ripped skin where you'd taken the blaster, but you weren't bleeding. "You locked your arms out, which caused them to buck with the recoil. You're too tense. And... you should keep both eyes open."

You knew that, but your body had reacted on its own and you'd ended up getting hurt in the process. Huffing, you glared back out at the target that you'd whiffed. "What should I do differently?"

"Watch me first," he instructed, picking up the blaster and pressed the range controls to allow for the targets to move in their popup rotation. His arms were not locked out and his stance was wide, supportive, and straight aside from the tiniest lean forward. The first target popped up and his finger was on the trigger, squeezing and hitting square on center mass. The target fell down in defeat, his shoulders turning as one further out popped up. One by one, he took them down, your eyes tracing between him, his form, and then the successful quick shot that he rained down on them with expert precision. His breathing was controlled and he wasn't tense. He was acting as natural as if he were sitting up in the cockpit or relaxing. He was Mandalorian and weapons were his religion, so of course he'd not exert any effort in a skill that was as mundane as walking or breathing. 

He reached and swapped the cartridge out before resting the pistol on the counter. 

"Now tell me what you observed."

"You had a wider stance, relaxed, easy breathing... and you weren't afraid of it."

"You're afraid of the pistol?" 

"I mean it did come back at me like I insulted its mother, so yeah," you admit sheepishly.

"My breathing was controlled, but it may have looked natural to you," he began explaining breathing cycles and how it was important to shoot at either the top or bottom of your breath. Experts could without adhering to the guidelines, but beginners who weren't familiar with bolt pathing needed the extra stability with their sight pictures. Everything sounded so logical and simple, but putting that to practice wasn't as easy as wiring and programming. Usually those things couldn't kill you.

After running down bullet pathing, trajectory, and math - you liked the math aspect - Paz had the pistol back in your hand. It was a tool. It didn't have emotions, you did. But that didn't change the fact that it made you nervous. You tried applying what he told you, but your arms were shaking as you held the pistol out and you were still jumpy. You fired at the 25 meter target and hit the sandy burm beneath it. 

"That was better," he encouraged, but it didn't feel that way. "Here, I'm going to help adjust you-" he came up behind you, utility belt brushing up against your back as he clasped onto your wrists. "Relax, mesh'la. Relax," he eased, guiding your arms out from their rigid position. The back of his cuirass met you and for the briefest moment, you did relax completely. His soothing deep voice filled your ears, rumbling like the earth being shaken by thunder in the wet season. Then you remembered you were on the range and started to panic again. "Now both eyes open. Slow controlled breathing. Go for the bottom of your breath, when your shoulders are down rather than the top when you're naturally more tense."

Following the instructions, you narrowed your eyes at the target, promising to give it a piece of your mind as he helped steady you. You sort of imagined that the target had a clever quip about kissing it's ass or something stupid, but your finger brushed the trigger and you fired. For the first time since starting, you hit it. Not center mass, but enough to the side that it caused the target to fall down in mock defeat. 

"There you go! Good job!" 

You were beaming, absolutely splitting the biggest smile since leaving your home planet. You envisioned yourself as somewhat of a sharpshooter now, wondering how soon it'd be before you were the quickest draw on Tatooine. Ok, admittedly you were getting ahead of yourself with your dumb daydreams, but you were so ecstatic that you'd actually kriffing hit it. Leaning back, you craned your head up to look at him. "That was me? You weren't helping?"

"I wasn't helping you aim," Paz assured you. "Do you think you can try a little further? Without me holding your arms up?"

Try? Sure you could try. You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. "But can you... stay there?" It felt nice having him right behind you, making certain you didn't hit yourself in the face again. 

"I can stay," Paz agreed, which caused your shoulders to relax immediately as he lowered his own hands and moved them to your hips. Oh, stars you liked that so much better. A pod of butterflies erupted in your stomach as he pressed the next set of targets and you had to focus on them. But at this point you were just focusing on him and the nice cool press of the beskar against the inside of your back, chasing away the bitter hottest of Tatooine. You shifted your weight as you went to aim for the first and closest target, grinding into him more than intended. 

Paz kept a close eye on how you were lining up your shot, suppressing a huff as you leaned into him. You were inexperienced and green, but he'd taught Foundlings how to shoot for their first time too. But you weren't a Foundling or a child, and so when you pressed into him the codpiece pushing into his groin, he felt a rush of hot white desire as you fired again, missing the target, but undaunted. You tried again and grazed it before making the next attempt at a further target. The pistol was too big for you, he knew that, but he didn't have anything smaller. With the right amount of practice, he knew you could shape up. You weren't a natural and that was fine, he didn't want you to have to use these skills, they were just a safety measure. 

But there was a baser hunger in him that was stirred as you applied yourself, the huffing of air as you tried to blow a few stray, sweaty curls out of your face, the absolute focus you'd come under when you were really applying yourself. You'd looked much the same while working on the ship, but this time it was in his field of expertise. Shooting was just... shooting. He didn't derive any excitement from doing well, which he always did. Practice like this was more of a waste of ammo than beneficial at this point. However, when he watched you, there was a thrill in observing you get better, get more familiar with the weight of blaster, and your valiant attempts to not be daunted by the fact that you probably only hit the target once out of every four shots. 

And you were flush against him. Each tiny movement from your breathing to the way you shifted your arms, he could feel it. 

"I think," he started carefully as the trigger clicked, indicating that the cartridge was spent. "That it's time to go."

"Hm?" you glanced up, pinning him with those big eyes. 

"Time to go," Paz repeated again, voice hoarse and staticky as it came out of the vocoder. 

"Already?"

He smiled at your enthusiasm, wondering if you'd caught the husk in his tone or the breathy edge. You couldn't feel him, he had a codpiece on, but he wanted to leave -- now. "C'mon mesh'la, let's go-" he brushed some of the scattered curls out of your face tenderly, despite the beast threatening to overwhelm him in that moment. Maker, why were you so pretty? He was careful not to be pushy as you handed over the pistol and he reloaded it with a swift click, jerking it down into his holster. Placing a hand at the base of your elbow, he began whisking you away, his own open strides too large for you as you struggled to keep up. 

His eyes snapped upward, helmet tilting as he felt a growl rise in the back of his throat. He had intended on beelining for the ship, but he noticed something -- rather someone and had to readjust his pathing. Nearly picking you up, he dragged you over into an alley, causing you to yelp in surprise. "W-w-what's going on?"

"Old friends," he muttered, glancing back out toward the road before continuing further down the alley. 

"Friends? You don't sound very friendly," you observed as he held your hand, bringing you deeper into the labyrinths between the main street. 

"Ok, they're not friends," Paz admits, pausing around a corner and letting out a deep exhale. "They didn't see us." At least, he didn't think they had before he darted down the alley. He felt incredibly hot, not just because of the dual suns of Tatooine, but because of how dolefully you stood in front of him, looking for guidance, imploring him. "Mesh'la-" he groaned, crowding you against the wall. "I wanted to go back to the ship." Now he was just complaining. It wasn't your fault. 

"We'll get there eventually, won't we?" you point out brightly. 

"But that's not-" he pressed his helmet against the wall in aggravation. "Mesh'la?" He brought his fingers beneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. You were dewy, a little sweaty from the heat, but all smiles and sunshine. He dragged the pad of his gloved thumb over your lips, tracking the lower down. "Fuck."

Now you were beginning to comprehend why Paz had wanted to get back to the ship and your cheeks began to flush as if the sun really had burned you. You let out a soft breath, staring up into his visor as you were pressed against the wall of a building, boxed in by his impressive form. You knew that you got aroused from teaching you about weapons, but in your own little world, you'd not remembered until now and his insistence to get the heck out of the range. Now you were waiting for the coast to be clear in a dirty alleyway and your own legs were beginning to tremble as a surge of heat -- not from the climate -- rocked your knees. 

"P-Paz?" you're stammering, eyes half lidded as he traces his thumb down your chin and against your throat. You weren't really going to...? Not in an alley? Where could anyone see you? Your heart picked up a few beats, ears rushing with the sound of your pulse at the dizzying idea of him taking you in the alley where someone could walk in on the Mandalorian fucking you. Why was that exciting? Oh Maker, that should not have been half as exciting as it was. You should have felt dirty and ashamed by these thoughts as your hand planted against his cuirass, throat bobbing against his fingers as you wondered what was about to happen.

"Do you want it?" he muttered.

You were in your coveralls, not exactly the best article of clothing for a tryst in the alley. But you nodded, chewing on your lower lip. "I... always do."

"Mesh'la," he growled plaintively. "You can't say things like that to me."

"Why?"

"Because I won't be able to control myself."

"I know you'd never hurt me."

"Hey!" 

The voice caused the both of you to jolt, necks snapping in the direction of a gesticulating hand. "Fuck. Time to go," Paz grabbed you, hoisting you up like a child, your chest colliding with his pauldron. Air bursting from your lungs, he was running beneath you, blaster in his other hand, arm encircling you from under your ass as he made a mad dash through the alleys. You were wondering why he didn't just use his jetpack. If he did that, everyone would see the two of you. 

He was fast, charging through the side streets like the dewback on your home planet. The two of you were back at the hangar, the Kote's gangplank hissing downward before he burst into the cockpit. There wasn't a moment to spare, he was flipping switches, grabbing the controls with you still in his arms, and taking the ship the hell off of Tatooine before you'd even managed to fill your lungs up fully. When you finally lifted off the ground a loud laugh popped out of your throat, hair frazzled and snapping in all directions as you looked up at him. 

He was still tense, coiled and ready to strike, but at your giggling he eased, cocking his helmet to the side. "Friends?" You poked. 

"Mm, friends," he hummed, unable to keep himself from chuckling as you continued to snicker. 

"I'm going to go wash some of this sweat off while you set us back on course," you told him, bending forward to press a kiss to his steel cheek. The sensation of the metal on your mouth was refreshing. Climbing down you left him to that bit of work, checking on the few supply crates that had been loaded onto the ship with fresh food. You weren't really certain what some of it was before ducking into the fresher to wipe your neck and between your boobs with a damp rag. 

"Mesh'la?" 

You fumbled the rag. How the hell could he sneak up on you like that? Sure, you weren't hyper sensitive about your surroundings, but he was still quite large and you expected to hear his boots carving their path toward you as he crowded you in the fresher. "Hm?" He grabbed your waist, pushing into you, your hips hitting the edge of the sink. You floundered, gripping onto the edge of the metal as you gasped. His codpiece was gone and you could feel the rigid line of his hardness against your ass.

"You were going to let me take you in that alleyway, weren't you?" His helmet fell on top of the crown of your head, lolling slightly as he huffed through his vocoder. Maker, you'd done this to him? 

Face sizzling, you gave a small nod. "I..." You hadn't been thinking straight, perhaps the heat had gotten to you and you'd agreed to something so incredibly dirty when you usually wouldn't. His hand glided up to your chest, pushing the shirt up, revealing your perky breasts to the mirror where you could see your own face shifting and your lips parting as you let out a soft whine. The sink was cold against your tummy, but the rest of him was a hot blanket above you. "Yes."

"I would have," he was quiet, mumbling almost as he rolled his fingers over your nipple. "Out on the range you were such a good girl. Listened to everything I taught you. You'll get better. You were doing so well today-"

You moaned louder, leaning into his hand, crushing your stomach into the sink at his praise. Fuck, why did you like it so much when he told you how well you'd done? You knew you were shit at shooting, but the way he said it... he wasn't saying you were amazing, but he was still praising you somehow. 

"What if someone saw us?" you managed to squeak out.

"I would have shielded you. You're so small," he answered simply, reaching down to palm between your legs. "I wouldn't have let anyone see you. Do... you want me to show you how? How I would've done it?"

You knew you had to be soaked at this point, his fingers digging in against the material of your coveralls. Each sentence he uttered made your skin blister, heart steadily picking up in tempo, and threatening to give you a heart attack at this point as you were squished to the sink. The ache was awful, so needy and desperate that you could barely answer him. You manage to bob your head when words evade you. 

Drawing you off the sink, he pushed you up into the opposing wall, boxing you in just like he'd down in the alley. His helmet fell against your brow and you could hear his heavy pants coming through the modulator. He hooked a finger in your waistband, tugging both the coveralls and your underwear in one fell swoop. Skirts. You definitely needed skirts. The logistics of pants were too much of a hassle, they were --- you keened to his hand as he brushed your bundle of nerves and came down in between your folds.

"Mesh'la you're already soaked," he realized, watching as you pressed your head back against the wall and gnawed on your lips. "You really wanted it that badly in the alley?" He was taken aback by this as you continued to kick off your pants and boots. He'd have to buy you a dress or a skirt, pants wouldn't have worked in the alley. "I would have leaned against the wall and picked you up like this-" he ran down his thought process, steadying himself against the wall by bracing his right side, swinging his hand beneath the supple curve of your ass, before lifting you up, encircling your leg, bringing it to rest up on his hips where the edge of his belt was. Balancing you with the wall as a leverage point, he undid his belt and dug his cock out, which sprung readily, throbbing in anticipation. 

Your hands fell on his shoulders as he guided you down, slicking his length against you before holding you by your hips, lower back not touching the wall as he tested his entrance. You quivered, thighs clenching as he fought the resistance of your cunt and buried himself. Both of you gasped, but he moved first, beginning to fuck you against the wall. If he thought you could've been quiet at all when he did this, then he was sorely mistaken. Almost immediately you began to cry out, each fervent lock of his hips to yours stretching and hitting into your molten core. Maker, it felt so disastrously good, your fingers tightening around his shoulders as your heart fluttered anxiously, not wishing to fall. 

"And if you were being too loud-" he continued, pushing closer to you on the wall, nearly crushing you beneath his form so that he had more support, he covered your mouth, stifling the hitching whines and yelps. "Mesh'la," he growled in your ear, so gritty and animalistic that it set your teeth on end and stood up all the fine baby hairs on your body. 

Your eyes were watering, shadowed beneath him as he breathily pounded into you. Had you not been held in place by his hand your neck would be limp. He was in all beskar, his helmet against the side of your face, glancing down as he fucked you, beginning to mutter in Mando'a as you struggled to  keep your legs encircling his hips. He moved a little harder, your muffled gasps punctuated as you dug your nails into his shoulder viciously.

Paz barely felt it, the marks you were leaving through the layers of his flight suit and cowl. You were a shaking, whimpering mess against him, tears spilling from your eyes as your walls tightened. He knew it was coming, pounding harder as you whined and your lashes danced against your cheekbone. He moved his hand, let you scream his name finally, the vice grip of your cunt around him thrusting him over the edge as your orgasm assaulted him with a wave of pleasure. 

His hips stuttered and he caught his own moan in the back of his throat as he blissed out, forgetting completely that he was still inside of you, unable to hear you saying his name more insistence and not with the same slurred pleasure as usual.

"Paz!" you were panicked as he panted against you, in his own debauched daze. 

He rolled his head, visor looking at you, before he stiffened. "Fuck!"

"I-i-it's," you were stammering as he pulled out of you, setting you down on your feet. Your knees buckled and he caught you, but you were beginning to run down the last time you'd had your period. Theoretically, you should be due in a week. When was the most fertile time for a woman? Fuck you didn't know that, you'd never tried to get pregnant before.

"Tracyn, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" 

"Uhm," you were glancing down at yourself, wondering what might happen... You had liked the sensation of him finishing in you, the way he'd reacted, perhaps even better than when you'd given him a blowjob. But still... you weren't on any contraceptives. "I think... I think it'll be okay."

He crouched in front of you, capturing your face in his palms and framing you. "I wasn't paying attention. I should have been paying attention. If you become pregnant-"

"Then I do," you say dolefully, glaring down at the floor. "We should have a better idea in a week. That's when I'm due for that time of month."

Paz was quiet. So quiet that it frightened you. 

But his own mind was reeling. Had you just stated it would be fine if you got pregnant? No, you were trying to stop him from finishing inside you, so it wasn't that. "You wouldn't...?"

"No!" you grabbed your stomach reflexively, defensively. You were of the age where you wanted children, but you and Paz hadn't established any sort of idea for what the two of you were. "I-I mean, I don't think I'm ready, but that wouldn't be the child's fault for our own stupidity."

He wanted children, desperately, but that hadn't been his intention when he spent himself in you. That was something that needed to be discussed prior to a frightening situation like this. But your reaction warmed him. You would have his child if this accident resulted in an unplanned pregnancy. "You're so beautiful. Your ka'rta, your face, everything about you, Tracyn."

You were still holding your stomach, drawing a shaky breath as you tried to combat your anxiety. It was going to be at an all-time high until you had your period. What if it didn't come? Fuck. Then you were having Paz's child, you'd already said it. You were healthy and you knew you wanted kids, you just... wanted something more permanent and to not be on the run while it happened. "If I'm not, then I should really get an implant when we get to Gala. Even if... a short one."

Your suggestion made him smile. You weren't planning on leaving and you wanted to be with him, maybe even have his children one day if the two of you worked out in that way. Paz wanted it. He wanted everything to work out and keep you forever. But proclaiming such things now might frighten you when you were trying to cope with the fact that you might get pregnant. "We'll do that." While he wanted children, you being pregnant during this running from the Empire escapade was not a good idea. You were already a distraction enough and if you were pregnant... He shuddered at the idea, having to worry about protecting an unborn child and deal with whatever sickness that came with that. But he'd do it. Without a fucking doubt he'd do it. 

"Can I take a shower?" 

He nodded, standing up before planting a keldabe kiss upon your brow. You were doing better since losing your home, but he knew it might come up again later. He hoped the Kote could become your home. "Let me know if you need anything, cyar'ika. I'll be just outside."

--

Translate: Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur - Today is a good day for someone else to die.

[raiseyourcups]

Cabur

Chapter Nine

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (Aili Verdella) Warnings: Reckless piloting of the Razor Crest, Aili calls Mando stupid but what else is new, she also threatens Toro but who wouldn’t, a little more pining (someone please catch the classic reference I used), people imply those two are together Word Count: 3.5k Also on AO3 

Masterlist

Summary: After a dogfight, the Mandalorian, Aili, and the Child take a pit stop on Tatooine where Mando finds them a job teaming up with a wannabe Guild member. Aili thinks Mando is hilarious when she finds out who they’re going after but she wouldn’t miss out on this job for anything now. Even if their “partner” is as big an idiot as Mando. 

"Move!" Aili shoved the Mandalorian as hard as she could before grabbing the main piloting controls from him. He wasn't the worst pilot but if they wanted to make it out of this dogfight in one piece, they'd need a little more finesse. He had already let the other bounty hunter land a hit on one of the engines. She shook her head in exasperation when Mando didn't move from the pilot seat so she stood in the small space between his seat and the controls. 

"I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold," the hunter said over the comm and Aili rolled her eyes at the cliche saying. She didn't even bother saying anything, pulling the controls hard to the side to avoid another shot.

"That's my line." Mando said from behind her and Aili let out an irritated sound. Was that really what he was annoyed about right now? It didn’t matter though, she was too busy calculating a way to get rid of the other hunter. It took another half a second before she knew what to do about him but she wasn't in a chair right now because Mando didn’t seem to want to move.

"Do me a favor, di’kut, don't let me go flying into the ceiling." She didn't give Mando a chance to ask what she meant before she started to pull the ship into a barrel roll in order to land in the space behind the other hunter's ship. She heard Mando let out a noise of surprise when the flip started and he moved forward to place one hand on her waist to keep her from losing her balance, his other hand coming to rest against the small of her back to keep her from moving backwards. She blamed the way her stomach lurched on the barrel roll itself because obviously that’s what it was that caused it. 

"Thanks." She said, before aiming at the other ship and firing once it was in the sights. She smirked as she heard the man scream before the ship exploded. "And that's how you do that."

She didn't get more time to gloat when the ship gave a sudden lurch and she fell backwards onto the Mandalorian's lap. His one hand was still on her waist while the other one slipped from her back to the other side of her waist. Aili’s side involuntarily twitched at the way his hand moved but she decidedly ignored this.

"That's the engine." She scrambled out of the Mandalorian’s hold and got back to her own seat to check over the nav panels. She had absolutely no idea where they were. 

Mando took a moment, flexing his hands before shaking his head and checking over his own panels, "We're losing fuel." 

“Well that’s just great,” Aili said, finally figuring out what the nearest planet to them was. Thankfully it was a useful one. “Tatooine is our best bet.”

That was when the engine powered down and everything shut off, including the lights. The Child let out an excited coo and Aili wondered how he could find this fun. Then again her idea of fun as a kid used to be getting a new blaster so maybe she wasn’t the best judge. Mando let out a sigh and got up to power the engine back up, though it wouldn't last much longer. They were right by Tatooine like Aili said and Mando made for it, switching on the radio as he did.

"This is Mos Eisley Tower, we are tracking you. Head for bay three-five. Peli Motto is the mechanic there, over." The tower operator’s bored voice sounded throughout the cabin. 

"Copy that," Aili said, giving Mando the chance to put all of his focus on getting them through the atmo without killing them all. "Locked in for three-five."

He brought them in as smoothly as possible, Aili would give him a little credit for that considering the engines had both taken hits. She wasn’t going to do so out loud though, he still hadn’t thanked her for fixing the gen room. She had nightmares about the crossed wiring and still wondered how it hadn’t blown up earlier. 

Aili winced as she heard the creaking and groaning as the landing gear came out. Yeah that, that wasn’t good. “Here’s hoping it’s not too expensive,” Aili said as they both got up from their seats. A quiet coo distracted Mando before he could reply and Aili let out a quiet chuckle as she looked down at the Child whose eyes were drooping closed. 

Aili watched as Mando laid the Child down in the cot, a small smile on her face. He had gotten himself so excited earlier that now he had tired himself out. They headed down to the gangway and that's when Mando decided to shoot at the ground in front of the small droids.

"What the kriff, Mando?" Aili exclaimed, her immediate reaction being to reach over and force his blaster arm down to his side. "It's just a pit droid!"

"Hey! You damage one of my droids and I'll make you pay for it!" The mechanic, Peli, came out shouting and Aili knew she’d have to turn up the charm now. If there was one person you didn’t want to piss off, it was the one who was going to be fixing your ship. Mando was lucky last time when she helped fix the gen room because she was also stuck on the ship so no matter how much he pissed her off, she wouldn’t cross any wires. Not if she wanted to stay alive that is. 

Aili turned to the mechanic, Peli, and gave her an apologetic smile. The one that worked on everyone that she had ever met.  "Sorry about him."

"Keep them away from my ship," Mando said, walking the rest of the way down the gangway with Aili behind him. She felt her eye twitch in annoyance. 

"Really sorry about him,” Aili added, subtly reaching over and pinching him hard through the arm of the suit he wore. He flinched and looked down at her, she could read the irritation in his body but she didn’t care. She shook her head at him, her brow furrowed in annoyance, before turning back to the mechanic with another smile. 

"Yeah well let me take a look at your ship. See if that’s a good idea." Peli walked over to the Crest, banging on one section before she looked up and pulled out a scanner. “You’ve got a lot of carbon scoring up top. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were in a shootout.”

“We were, some idiot bounty hunter got our ship confused with another. Took us almost half a parsec to lose him,” Aili said, making sure to sound as exasperated as possible. The mechanic turned to look at her, sizing her up almost to see if she was lying. 

“Huh,” Peli finally shrugged, turning back to the ship. “I’m gonna have to rotate that. You’ve got a fuel leak! This is a mess, I’m surprised you could even land!”

“We were honestly just glad to break atmo without anything catching on fire.”

She walked away from the ship and looked at them with pursed lips, “This is gonna set you two back.”

“I’ve got 500 Imperial credits,” Mando said, pulling the credits out as he did.

“And I have 500 Calamari Flan,” Aili added as she pulled her credits out as well, already internally wincing at the fact that she was having to dip into the nest egg she had saved up. But it wasn’t like they had been able to take any jobs since leaving Nevarro, the villagers on Sorgan had already been kind enough to not charge them anything for their room and board. Had said taking care of the raiders was enough payment for the three of them to stay for weeks. 

“That should cover the hangar and the fuel leak,” Peli said as she took both of their payments. 

“We’ll get you your money.” Mando said shortly. Although Aili thought she heard a hint of embarrassment in his tone. She couldn’t blame him, even when times were rough she always had enough to get her ship fixed when it needed to be. Right now though she was trying to keep a persona on and since she was the only one who had a visible expression, it all fell on her to sell the act. 

“Heard that one before.”

“Just remember-”

“She gets it Mando, no droids. Why don’t you head out and I’ll catch up with you at the cantina in a few?” Aili ordered more than asked while still keeping her voice even. Mando stared down at her for a long moment before nodding and turning to leave. She knew he’d have no option other than the cantina because there was nowhere else to ask around for a job on the planet anyway. She watched as he left before turning to face Peli again. 

“I’m really sorry about him, it’s been...a very long day,” Aili said, brow a little furrowed as she spoke to Peli. Hopefully she wasn’t selling it too hard but she couldn’t be bothered to really try at the moment. 

“With the amount of damage you took, I can imagine.” Peli said, brow still raised in annoyance. She still thought she wouldn’t be getting paid for her work and Aili couldn’t blame her. They had barely given her enough to cover the hangar and one of the multiple repairs they needed. 

“We promise to pay you, this is Tatooine. There’s always some idiot with a job.”

“Been here often?”

“More times than I’ve wanted.” Aili let out a short laugh with no actual humor behind it. “I should go catch up with him, make sure he doesn’t pick a crap job.”

“Good luck with that, he doesn’t seem like the brightest star in the galaxy.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Aili turned to leave when she paused at the thought of the sleeping Child on the ship. Maybe she should tell the woman about him, but she didn’t know how far information on his bounty had travelled. She wrestled with herself for a moment before turning back to face Peli.

“Oh, also I just want to let you know that we have a child on the ship, but he’s sleeping right now.”

“You and the Mandalorian have a child?” Peli asked, voice incredulous at the thought. She had noticed the way the other woman had seemed to barely tolerate the Mandalorian and vice versa. 

Aili couldn’t stop the full body shudder that went through her at the mere thought of not only having a child but having one with the Mandalorian. “Oh Maker no! No, ew, long story. But he’s sleeping and I’d rather not take a baby to a cantina anyway so…”

“I’ll watch him if he wakes up but it’ll cost extra if he’s fussy, I’m not a babysitter.”

“Thank you, anything I can bring back from the cantina for you?”

“Not this time. Go ahead and catch up to that Mando before he pisses anyone else off.”

Aili gave Peli one more smile and nod before turning to head out the same way that Mando had. Hopefully he hadn’t already found a job without her. She didn’t want to get stuck with anything barely worth it or even something that would be impossible to manage. Not that there was a lot she couldn’t handle but she still wasn’t sure about Mando. She had yet to really see him in a fight. 

It took a while to get to the cantina as it was nowhere near Peli’s bay. Aili let out another annoyed sigh, really hoping that Mando hadn’t found a job yet without her. She felt like she needed to vet anything he found because he clearly didn’t know how to pick his battles. First he chose to take on an Imp job for beskar (which she understood, beskar belonged to Mandalorians to do with as they saw fit) but then he hadn’t been able to tell that the job on Sorgan would actually be worth it until he met an attractive, single widow who looked at him like he hung the sun in the sky. She got it, the idea of being able to settle down was always on her mind, but it wasn’t feasible at the moment. 

“Kriff!” Aili cursed as she narrowly avoided bumping straight into a beskar covered chest. She hadn’t even noticed he was there, so lost in her thoughts about how dumb he was. She glared up at the Mandalorian, “I said I’d meet you inside.”

“We have a job already,” he said, walking back towards Peli’s hangar before Aili could say anything. 

“Oh we do? How much?” Aili asked, keeping up with him easily, but she was a little impressed that he had found a job so quickly. People were usually wary around obvious bounty hunters and Mando was obviously one with all that hard, shiny armor. 

“More than enough. Dumb kid named Toro Calican wants help taking down Fennec Shand in the Dune Sea so he can join the Guild.”

Laughter bubbled up and escaped Aili’s mouth before she could stop herself. “Sorry, did you just say Fennec Shand? The mercenary slash assassin?”

“Yes.” Mando paused before his helmet tilted to the side, mistaking her laughter for nervousness,  “You don’t have to come with us.”

“Oh I’m going with you, if only to see you get your ass handed to you again,” Aili laughed again, knowing that she wouldn’t miss this job for anything in the galaxy. “How are we splitting the pay?”

“Says he’ll give us all of it. Just needs it done to get into the Guild,” Mando explained as they kept walking back to the hangar. 

“Is this kid stupid or what?” Aili asked, taken aback because she just knew that any bounty on Fennec Shand had to be high. Like, afford a brand new ship money. 

“He broke the tracking fob rather than giving it to me, so yes. But he’s going to meet us in half an hour with speeder bikes.”

“Wow, actually is this kid related to you? Because that’s some top class stupidity,” Aili said, smirk on her face when Mando paused for about half a second before continuing to walk, a little faster now so Aili had to almost jog to keep up with him. She supposed she deserved that for her comment but now he was just using her short legs against her. They made it back to Peli’s hangar faster than it took to get to the cantina, mainly because of the Mandalorian’s pace. 

He walked straight for the ship while Aili figured she’d wait for him to grab his gear before she went for hers. She had barely sat down on an empty fuel drum when he stalked back out and headed for one of the pit droids. 

“Hey!” He shouted, causing the pit droid to let out a scared sound before collapsing onto itself. “Where is he?”

“Mando, stop scaring the droids!” Aili didn’t know what his problem with droids was and frankly she didn’t care. But he needed to stop scaring them otherwise she was going to hit him. The sound of the Child crying took her attention away from Mando and she watched as Peli came forward with the Child in her arms.

“Oh you woke it up! Do you have any idea how long it took for me to get him to sleep?” Peli complained as she tried to bounce the Child a little to calm him down. Aili gave Mando a side glare since she knew it was his shouting that had scared Little Green. 

“Give him to me,” Mando demanded, pointing a finger at Peli. 

“No, I’ll give him to her because she has a head on her shoulders,” Peli said, handing Aili the Child. “She at least let me know he was still on the ship rather than just walking out without saying anything.”

Aili took the Child in her arms, giving him a smile as he let out a quiet sniffle. She ran a finger down his nose, her smile getting a little bigger when he stopped crying and a small smile appeared on his face. No one saw the look Mando was giving her behind his helmet before he shook his thoughts away and turned back to Peli. 

"Got started on the repairs, fixed the fuel leak. Everything else is still a mess except for the generator room. Whoever fixed that knew what they were doing,” Peli sounded a little impressed and Aili smiled over at the mechanic. 

"Thank you,” Aili said, glad that someone appreciated the hard work she had put into fixing the mess Mando had called a working gen room.

"Ah I knew it wasn't Mando who did that."

"I could have,” Mando said, clearly peeved with the two woman talking about him like he wasn’t even there. They both turned to look at him, Aili with one brow raised because she knew how useless he had been the whole time she was fixing his mess. She couldn’t see as he flushed under her stare but he didn’t try to say anything else. Smart move.

Peli looked him up and down. "Sure you could. There were a couple of setbacks I wanted to talk to you about.”

Aili watched as Mando headed back up the gangway and grabbed his pack. She went up as well once he was back down and she grabbed her own small go-bag. It only had weapons she considered essential and a couple of ration bars along with a waterskin that she always kept ready to go. 

“I figured you two would be good for the money since you’ve got this little one to feed,” Peli said, nodding her head towards the Child that Aili was still holding. The Mandalorian stared at Peli silently before tilting his helmet towards her.

“Thank you,” was all he said before walking away just as quickly as he had walked in again. Aili watched him walk away 

“A brief moment of manners and then he just...screws it all up,” Aili mumbled under her breath as she walked after him, nodding for Peli to come with her. 

“So you got a job?” Peli asked, following after the two of them. “‘Cause you know it costs a lot to keep these droids up and running.”

“We did and I know, we should be back soon. Seems like an easy enough job to me,” Aili said as she and Peli stepped back out into Tatooine where Mando was waiting with the dumb kid that they had partnered with. 

“Check it out, Mando. Not too shabby, huh?” Aili stood back with Peli as she looked the young man up and down. He seemed too...clean to be a bounty hunter but there was something else about him that she didn’t like. He seemed too eager and that was dangerous when it came to high paying bounties. She turned her attention over to where Mando was inspecting their speeder bike but he didn’t seem impressed when he looked back up at the wannabe bounty hunter. 

“What do you expect? This isn’t Corellia.” Toro shrugged before turning to look back at Peli and Aili, only recognizing Peli. He gave the Child a confused look before he looked up and Aili. “This your wife and...kid?” 

Aili gave him a blank stare knowing that she had not just heard him refer to her as Mando’s wife. “Call me that again and I’ll make sure you never join the Guild.” She handed the Child over to Peli before taking a step towards the speeder bike she was obviously going to share with Mando and tying her own pack down. Mando stood beside her stiffly. 

“Really and how will you do that? Get your husband to kill me for you?”

“Do you like breathing?” Aili asked, lunging forward to attack the boy but Mando wrapped a hand around her upper arm to stop her. She still enjoyed the way the little boy flinched despite her not getting anywhere near him. 

“Enough, get on the speeder,” Mando said, looking down at Aili before looking over at Toro and nodding for him to do the same. 

“Fine,” Aili said after giving Toro one last hard look. She got up on the speeder, Mando getting on behind her and reaching forward to take the handles before she even had a chance to reach for them. She rolled her eyes and scooted as far up as she could to put distance between her and Mando. She wouldn’t fall off as long as he kept the bike steady which if he knew what was good for him, he would. Then they were off for the Dune Sea.

[kaasknot]

Commander Fox Week Day 7: Tattoos

Teen and Up

Fox/Fives, Clonecest mention, OC, Major character death, Grieving, Angst, Dramatic irony

@loving-fox-hours

***

Widowmaker was packing used needles to send to the medbay autoclave when Commander Fox came into the regiment tattoo station.

“Looking for some ink, sir?” he asked, before he recognized the over-exaggerated carefulness the Commander used to maneuver around the door. His heart sank.

“Yes,” Fox said, with the watery precision of the extremely drunk. “I would like some ink.”

Widowmaker had never seen Commander Fox drunk before. Supposedly, he took the responsibilities of his rank seriously—too seriously, if the CG scuttlebutt was to be believed—and more to the point, he didn’t often come down to hobnob with the line troops. Some birther bantha shit or other; officers didn’t rub elbows with their underlings unless they wanted to kill their upward mobility.

Well, Fox was as upward as he could possibly go, unless he jumped genetics and became a birther himself, which was a problem for Widowmaker, because he couldn’t say no to a marshal commander any more than he could tattoo a drunk man.

Fox gazed around at the narrow walls of the refurbished supply closet. Cleaning supplies had been replaced with tattoo supplies, and a repurposed barber’s chair was shoved in the center, where the droid charging station used to be. Flimsis of Widowmaker’s work were taped to the shelves. “How’s this work?” Fox asked.

“Well, first you tell me what you have in mind.” Widowmaker set the needles aside and propped his forearms on the back of the chair.

Fox tapped his breastplate, left of center but not quite over his heart. “Want a five. Here.”

“How big?”

“Size of blaster hole,” Fox snapped. “The fuck does it matter?”

Widowmaker shrugged to hide the creepy crawlies going over his skin. He’d heard the commander had had to shoot a brother a couple days ago. Looked like Widowmaker had drawn the short straw and got to handle the fallout.

“Just making sure you get what you want,” he said as calmly as possible.

“S’what I want.”

“Sure thing, boss. Cop a squat and we’ll get you started.” He slapped the chair. “Need help with your armor?”

“I got it.” And he did, mostly. Haphazardly shoved his helmet on one of the shelves Widowmaker had left empty for that purpose, then started stripping away his upper body plates. The only trouble spot was the cuirass; he got the clasps uneven, and they jammed. Widowmaker helped him out of it without making a fuss, and the commander got the rest. He sat heavily in the chair, and Widowmaker noticed, though he wished he hadn’t, the way the commander’s hands shook before they gripped the armrests.

“Just gonna shave the skin before we get started,” he said, and went about stropping his razor. Clones usually didn’t have more than a few wisps of chest hair, but any hair was a bad mix with a tattooing. Not that Commander Fox would be getting a tattoo tonight.

He shaved off Fox’s few wisps over the site he’d indicated, then sat back. “A five, you said? Which alphabet?”

Fox swallowed. “Aurebesh.”

Widowmaker held up his thumb and forefinger in a circle, about as big around as the entry wound left by DC pistols, which Widowmaker had heard through the grapevine was Fox’s weapon of choice when he wasn’t rocking a rifle. “This big?”

Fox just nodded.

Fucking grim as all nine hells. Widowmaker got up to the workstation behind the hot seat and did not crack open a fresh set of needles, but instead pulled out a cluster of old ballpoint cores he’d eviscerated and glued together for situations exactly like these. He slid it into the handgrip he used for his work and went back to pull up a stool in front of Fox.

“One Aurebesh five coming right up,” he said, and started poking at Fox’s chest like he did with actual needles. Just… not permanently.

“Huh,” Fox said. “Doesn’t hurt.”

“With respect, sir, but you’re so wasted I don’t think you can even feel your face, right now.”

Fox tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. “Yeah. M’drunk.”

Widowmaker suppressed a snort of laughter. It wasn’t too hard. Drunks could be entertaining, when they weren’t puking all over your floor, but this was more pathetic than funny. And it only got worse if he actually sat and thought about what it would feel like to shoot a fellow clone.

It was quiet for a while, Widowmaker occupied with his phony tattoo, Fox blinking up at the ceiling. But then Fox started talking.

“We were fucking,” he said baldly, his voice hard and aggressive, like he was daring Widowmaker to make an issue of it.

Widowmaker pursed his lips. “You and the ARC?”

“Yeah.”

Fuck almighty. If Widowmaker were a less principled man, this would make the absolute best gossip fodder. Commander Fox, notoriously hardass about brotherfucking, was fucking a brother on the side. The universe laughed.

But then Widowmaker remembered the whole story, and his sliver of nasty vindication shriveled up in shame. He wouldn’t wish this on anybody.

“What happened?”

Fox sniffed, a little more wetly than Widowmaker’s conscience could bear. “Don’t tell me the gossip hasn’t already said.”

Widowmaker shrugged. An ARC going rogue, taking out his inhibitor chip, and trying to kill the Chancellor? Obviously it had made the BBN. But this was hardly the first time Widowmaker’s chair had turned into a confessional, and if he was honest, he was a little curious.

“He—he didn’t listen. I told him not to go for the blaster, but he’d already—” Fox paused to take a steadying breath. “He’d already attacked the Chancellor and imprisoned a Jedi general, and I fucking told him not to—”

His words choked off, and the sound of him swallowing down his emotions made Widowmaker’s heart break. Not even the commander’s white-knuckled grip on the chair could hide how he was trembling.

“I don’t know why he did it.”

His voice was a cracked whisper, and Widowmaker figured it was past time he said something.

“No way to retrace his trail?”

Fox shook his head. “Just conspiracy theories and paranoia. His friend had just killed a Jedi, he… He probably just couldn’t accept the truth. That his friend went crazy, that there wasn’t some elaborate conspiracy.” His brow wrinkled, as though he didn’t like that answer but didn’t have anything better at hand. “Took out his chip and everything tanked after that.”

“Shit,” Widowmaker said lowly. “Hard to think, that we’re all so close to the edge. Thank the Force for the chips, huh?”

“Yeah,” Fox said, looking away. “Thank the Force.”

That was all Fox said, for the duration. He stared off to the side, away from Widowmaker’s face, and fat tears ran silently down his cheeks.

[big1ron]

The Venator “Resolute” had jumped right into a separatist trap. Somehow a virus infecting the main computer has scrambled the hyperspace jump coordinates, and now the companies on board were outnumbered and without reinforcements, deep in separatist space. A few last, desperate SOSs to nobody, and the ship was quickly overwhelmed with fire. The Resolute was going down. But not before each of the escape pods could be jettisoned.

————- Chapter Two: Bad Things -—————

Dogma shot the droid and tackled Jesse just a second to late, and took the bolt himself

The pain in his left side (and a little across his back) was searing. He was still breathing though, it missed anything vital. Just grazed him. He was rolled off the arc trooper to the side as the blasterfire didn’t pause for a second even though his own shot had destroyed its target. The fire didn’t last for more than a minute though, as the arc trooper disarmed and destroyed two of the droids with ease, and the medic took the last one.

That was pathetic, he couldn’t even get back up afterwards. He had taken worse than this, so why did it hurt so badly? He could barely hear what Jesse was saying, almost didn’t notice coric appear beside him.

“You di’kut! That hurt you far worse than it would have hurt me, what were you thinking!”

Right. Arc trooper. Thicker chest plate means the bolt wouldn’t have hurt him that badly

“S-sorry sir.”

Coric removed Dogmas helmet and jabbed a painkillers hypo into his neck “that was a sniper bolt, high powered. But it missed anything vital, you’ll live” Quickly moves to remove the chest plate before being stopped by Jesse

“Leave it coric”

“Jesse I dont care how much you hate him if-“

“I said leave it! This isn’t about my feelings for him. Maybe I hate him a little but he’s still my brother and I don’t want him to suffer. But we just encountered commando droids and that means there could be more around. It’s not vital you treat that but If you remove his chest plate to treat that and he gets shot again, you would be dealing with something much worse. So let’s move!”

“I- sir yes sir.”

“Kix you doing okay there buddy?” Echo turns back from the head of the group to look at kix, who is leaning much more heavily on rex now. Rex had chosen the right tunnel, they were now on the surface walking through the forest.

“I hate you... soo much echo. Plea’slow down...” they couldn’t have been walking more than a few hours but Kix looked absolutely exhausted. And he had been tripped by echo a few times now.

“I do too Kix, I do too. Echo, he’s right we should stop here for a little while, you two need some rest. DON’T annoy him in his sleep please.“

Echo takes Kix from Rex and is glared at before he can drop him. “Oh come on. Neither of you hate me, and Rex I know I’m your favourite.”

“My favourite’s Fives”

Echo gasps, offended “you take that back”

“You’re all rex’ favourite ok? Can I plea’sleep now?” Echo sighs in apparent defeat. The two settle down against a tree and once rex is sure they’re both asleep he begins watch.

Rex paces the parameter and looks back at the two vode, sleeping together. He smiles softly. They really are cute when they aren’t trying to annoy each other, or him. On the farthest corner of his loop though he hears something drop down from the trees between him and the other two. Commando droids.

They were completely unseen in the night, with their eyes not glowing like they should. They did now though, and he was surrounded as three appeared behind him. Rex immediately turn to the one centred behind him and blasts it to smithereens, diving over it and rolling to escape the others blasts. He runs in the opposite direction to echo and Kix to lure the droids away.

All four droids fall for it, they must not have noticed the two. The captain stops dead in his tracks and elbows the nearest droid in the face and shoots it with his free hand. He then throws that droid into another, knocking it over and deactivating both. He shoots a third down and has a mini heart attack when he can’t find the fourth. Is almost relieved when it springs on him from a nearby bush. He wrestles with it on the ground until he can grab his dropped blaster, and shoot it.

Rex gets up and dusts himself off. Now he just needs to get back and... which direction did he come from...?

“ECHO! KIX? WHERE ARE YOU TWO” he called but either they were to far to hear him or were to asleep to hear him.

“- But thats way to risky! There are three of us hardcase, we will be killed!”

“It’s either that or we get used to this place cause we aren’t leaving”

“There are other ways than storming into a separatist base, think with your head for once!”

“Oh don’t start that up again. I’m thinking perfectly fine, just cause your an arc trooper doesn’t make you any smarter than me”

“Yeah well maybe it gives me a little more common-

“will you two stop arguing already!?”

Hardcase and Fives both stop bickering to look at Tup. It’s the first time either of them has stopped bickering in the last few hours.

“Stop yelling at each other, it’s getting nowhere. I know you both want what’s best for the squad but you can do that without screaming at each other! Fives I know you’re and arc trooper and hardcase I know you have seniority, and I know you have conflicting ideas and opinions but following the structure of command we have to listen to fives.”

The three were walking in a single file line across a thin out pass on the side of a cliff face, heading for the summit. Fives first plan. Get a vantage point. Tups speach shut the two of them up for a little, but not long, as they started fighting again as hardcase questioned who has been put in charge by Rex more often. They didn’t hear him yelp when the rocks fell out from beneath him. He was send skidding all the way back down to the base of the cliff, which had had to have been a few hundred feet at least. He tried to grab at rocks, branches, anything he could to slow his fall but all he did was send himself rolling instead of sliding.

He landed on the ground with a thud. His head was spinning and he hardly had time to even register what had happened. He let himself lay splayed in the ground for a second before mentally checking himself over. His hair tie had snapped sometime during the fall and he would definitely be bruised in quite a few places but nothing felt broken. He pulled himself to his feet and looked back up to where they were. He couldn’t see fives or hardcase “GUYS! FIVES, HARDCASE!” He called “IM DOWN HERE!”

No response. Great. Ok. Nice.

Tup scooped up his blaster and began to search for another way up the cliff.

“HARDCASE WE LOST TUP”

“WHAT”

“HES GONE”

“HOW COULD YOU LOSE TUP!?”

“HEY I didn’t lose anyone. He just disappeared!!”

“Well where could he have gone?!”

Both turn and look down and look to eachother before fives has to grab hardcase to stop him flinging himself off the cliff

Jesse still has one pistol drawn and is on guard as his group moves down the path. Dogma had been even more quiet then later but coric assumed that was to hide the pain. Coric would keep an eye on him, he wouldn’t tell him whenever the painkillers wore off. That’s something he knew about dogma. Dogma wasn’t paying attention and tripped in some kind of animal burrow. He w t down with a small noise of distress. Coric stopped and waited for him to get up, Jesse didn’t. Dogma caught back up to the group, but the limp was noticeable. Jesse only rolled his eyes.

“Hey are you alright?” Coric asked, as if he expected any answer other than ‘fine.’

“I’m alright, doesn’t matter.”

Close enough. He kept an eye on him and the limp didn’t go away for 10 minutes so he decided to intervene.

“Hey Jesse, let’s stop. I want to check over dogma again. He’s limping”

“I’m fine coric it’s-“

Ah there it is. The ‘I’m fine’ he’s so used to hearing.

“Listen kid when a medic tells you something you listen. We’ll stop. Coric, make this as quick as possible though.”

Of course, Kix was also a medic. Jesse is just as bad as the rest of them but he’s probably heard these PSAs more than anyone.

Coric held up the medisensor and sighed

“It’s sprained. He really shouldn’t be walking on it. I won’t be able to treat it properly until we get back.”

“What? No, I can walk fine. I was just doing so, wasn’t I? Let’s get going again”

“No, you think you’re fine. If coric says you can’t, I guess you can’t.” Jesse sighs and turns to coric “I guess I’ll carry him. We can’t leave him here, and you’ve got the medpack.”

Coric’s honestly a little surprised Jesse agreed, but then he feels a little bad for underestimating Jesse. But then again he gets the feeling Jesse may actually just be playing four dimensional petty chess as well.

Having acquired Ahsoka a second bike, the two Jedi were surveying the planet right until the crack of dawn when

“Master am I crazy or do you feel what I feel?”

Anakin’s bike skids to a stop in front of a trooper laying face down in the dirt, as if that’s right where he fell

“Whatcha doing Rex? Trying to become a landform?”

The captain pulls his arms underneath him and gets up. He is almost tackled right back to the ground as he’s tackle hugged from behind. Luckily he’s caught (and also hugged from the front) by anakin.

“We missed you Rex! I was afraid you were shot down! I’m so glad you’re alive...” said ahsoka

“It’s great to see you two, sirs. But I don’t know how much longer I’ll be alive if you keep crushing me”

“Now ahsoka, please don’t kill our poor captain. He looks like he’s had a long day.” He pulls away from Rex and ahsoka does the same. “So Rex, we only have two speeders, so who do you want to ride with?”

“Uhh...” he weighed his options. On the one hand- to long. Both Jedi got that glint in their eye that meant competition and both grabbed at rex at once. Anakin pulled him towards himself before ahsoka could lay a hand on the captain.

“Alright captain, you’re riding with me. Hold on.”

[too-lit-for-fanfic]

A Traitor In Our Midst

PART I OF III

PART I

PART II

PART III

Summary: Cal Kestis x ex-Galactic Empire!OC, but can be treated like an x reader, ugly secrets from her past are resurfaced. In light of the truth Cal and crew no longer feel as if they can trust the newest member to the trio. Tempers flare, sacrifices are made, and the truth finally comes out.

Warnings: It’s fucking long (sorry not sorry) and this part is mostly a set up for the next bit, but still CRUCIAL. The two first parts gets dark, like holy shit kind dark. Angst, Blood, Violence, Swearing.

“We’re coming under heavy fire! One of you get back to the ship as soon as possible, we can’t hold them off much longer!” Cere’s panicked voice wafted through the com-link, her voice scratchy and filled with static as the connection failed and reconnected.

Cal shot a glance over his shoulder, his bright eyes connecting with the much darker pair belonging to his companion, Aylin, her eyebrows knit together with barely concealed concern. The interaction was brief, broken as a trooper tackled Cal to the ground, his saber knocked flying as BD-1 shrilled in the background. The fiery haired male gasped for breath as the wind was knocked from him, the troopers heavy boot digging under his ribs forcing the little air left from his lungs. Just as the trooper raised its blaster Aylin materialised, knocking them to the ground with a harsh swing of her stun baton, their helmet splintering under the force. Cal grinned sheepishly at the woman as she handed him his saber, an angular eyebrow raised as the red head scrambled to his feet.

“You stay here until BD’s finished downloading the maps,” the pair glanced towards the little droid, whirring and buzzing as its eyes flickered. “I’ll go help the others at the ship, meet us there as soon as you can.”

Cal went to retort, his mouth opening with a disgruntled look upon his pale features. He did not like the idea of the pair separating, not at all.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” The blonde grinned, patting the slightly taller male on his shoulder as she began to head off, jogging in the general direction of the landing pad. Cal sighed as she raced away, dodging out of the troopers blaster fire with ease, she’d be the death of him one day; being on edge for another’s safety all the time couldn’t be good for his health, he muttered, he’d be having a stroke before long.

Before long Aylin had reached the landing pad, which was actually just a flat area in amongst an abundance of trees, but they couldn’t be picky. She caught her breath for a moment, surveying the scene below: Cere was huddled behind a stack of crates, exchanging blaster fire with several troopers just inside the tree line, Greez was still stranded on the ship, using his small blaster to ward off another two troopers flanking the opposite side. It didn’t look good. Deciding to pick the easier route for once, she ambled towards the two troopers penning Greez in the ship, hoping with the addition of him she’d have more of a chance against the five troopers currently engaged with Cere.

Crouching low, she shimmied her way through the thick shrubbery, uncaring for the spiky fauna that scratched at the exposed skin on her face and neck, her dark eyes trained on her closest trooper. Her knuckles turned white with the force she gripped her baton as she sprung from the brush, ramming the closest trooper with the electrically charged end to her weapon. The man yelled before he collapsed, alerting his companion of her presence. Greez yelled something to her but she barely payed him any mind, repositioning her baton just in time to deflect the oncoming blaster fire, the end of her weapon shattering upon impact. She grinned as the troops blaster faulted to recharge, discarding her broken baton to tackle him to the ground. Her teeth ground together as the man struggled, her arm locking around his neck, pinching at the unarmoured flesh. His legs kicked wildly as his hands clawed at her arm, unable to tear himself free. With a cry the trooper managed to flip the pair onto their backs, Aylin’s arm still constricting his airways as they struggled.

“Come on!” She begged, reaching for the newly charged blaster just out of reach, skimming the handle with her dirt stained fingers. Catching onto her actions the trooper also reached for the gun. Aylin panicked, knowing the troopers longer arm could reach the discarded weapon. Throwing her leg over his reaching arm she wound her legs around his torso, trapping him in place as she wriggled further, dirt and leaves meshing into her hair. “Come on.” She finally grasped the blaster, immediately pressing the cool barrel on the underside of the mans helmet and firing. He fell limp as she pushed him from her, scrambling to her feet.

She leans over, hands on her knees as she gasped for breath, blaster still grasped in her shaky hand. “You okay kid?” Geez called, hurrying down the ramp as fast as his little legs would allow. Ayling looked toward the small Latero, eyes wide. She looked feral, her short hair a mess a top her head, dirt and debris caked across her figure and blood splattered onto her jugular and jaw.

“I could’ve- could’ve used your help back there.” She gasped out, rubbing her chest to ease the pain the troopers helmet had caused as he had thrashed against her. Greez spluttered, gesturing wildly.

“I didn’t want to shoot you-!”

“Fine, fine.” She reloaded the blaster, not wanting to receive the same fate as the unfortunate troop strewn in front of her. She gazed at the unknown man for a little too long, the familiar white uniform striking uncomfortably at her heartstrings. As much as she detested herself for it, and as much as she would never admit to it, the uniforms always gave her a sense of home, of comfort, of familiarity, of belonging. The corner of her bust lip pulled down slightly, her eyes flickering over the troops number engraved onto his suit. That could of been her, and the reality of that caused something fowl to twist in her gut - she glanced back to Greez, who didn’t seem to notice her momentary destraction, if she dwelled on the subject too long she’d surely go mad. “Come on, we’ve gotta go help Cere.”

The two rounded the corner of the ship, ducking behind a nearby crate. Aylin pocked her head around the side of the small object, gnawing on her lip. There was no way they could interfere from their current position, they’d be dead before they could even start firing.

“Do you fancy causing a destraction?” She turned to the short male, said Latero staring back at her with wide eyes.

“No.”

“Go and cause a destraction.”

“You go cause a destraction.” He huffed, Aylin rolled her almond shaped eyes. “Why does it have to be me? You’re faster and I actually want to reach the age of sixty.”

“I’m the better shot.” She bragged, reaching to grab his blaster. He recoiled, hugging it to his chest. “You’re not going to need it.” She stressed, pulling it from his hesitant grasp. “But I will, this blasters not got much left to it. Better safe th-“

“-Than sorry.” Greez sighed. Beginning to head off into the foliage. “I hate it when you’re right.”

The young woman turned back to the task at hand, blaster gripped tightly in her hand as she awaited Greez’s move. She glanced down at her stolen blaster momentarily, brows furrowing further when she remembered the five troopers awaiting her. There was no room for any mistake, one wrong hit and they’d all be dead. More crucially, she’d likely be dead first. She cursed as she watched Greez amble around the perimeter, a large rock grasped in his hands. Cere, not realising the plan, finally spotted Aylin from her position, eyes widening when she saw the blaster in the girls hand. Even from such a distance Aylin could see the worry on the older woman’s face, frantically mouthing ‘don’t do it’ as the blaster fire assaulted Cere’s own crate. Forcing a shaky grin onto her lips, Aylin gave the woman a thumbs up, indicating she had no intention of listening to her, at all.

Greez yelled something incomprehensible from the brush, launching the rock at the closest troopers head. Stupidly, all five turned towards the noise, Greez legging it back into the cover of the dense woodland. Aylin sprang from her spot, blaster aimed and loaded, glaring down the barrel of the gun as if her life depended on it, because it did. Each shot had barely left the the blaster before the other was fired, all hitting their mark. The ease by which she possessed as graceful as that of a ballet dancer, muscle memory doing the work - the same routine, the same outcome. One by one each trooper went down, her aim deadly accurate and unforgiving.

The three stood alone in the clearing, Aylin with her blaster still raised, Cere finally able to emerge from her hiding spot, holstering her own weapon once again. Greez also reappeared, a large grin on his thick lips.

“Thank god you came back when you did, it took you long enough.” Cere playfully jibed, a gracious smile sent the young girls way as she approached. “Are you okay?”

“Never better.” The blonde smiled, already forgetting about her bust lip and bruising chest. “Are you good? Can’t believe there was so many on you.”

“We always get through it. Where’s Cal?”

Aylin shrugged nonchalantly, knowing the boy was more than capable. “He should be back any minute now. BD was still-“

It all happened at once, and the rapidity of it all almost gave Aylin whiplash just thinking about it. Cal had called her name as he emerged from the forrest, BD perched hazardously on his broad shoulders. She had turned with a smile upon her lips, her guard down, blaster lowering just a fraction, and that’s all it took. One final trooper had crashed through the brush, weapon trained on the woman who had killed the last of his squadron. Aylin didn’t even have time to blink as Cal screamed, the shot hitting her square in the shoulder and sending her tumbling to the ground, her head connecting with the stony earth, plunging her into the dark abyss.

She came to moments later, Cal kneeling over her as Cere and Greez ran over, shouting. The pain hit her immediately and she grimaced, Carl’s worried eyes staring right back into her own, his hands cupping either side of her face.

“You’re back.” He sighed, dropping the now empty stim as relief flooding his system. The few seconds it had taken for her to regain consciousness were agonisingly slow and Cal had been close to tears. The shining dew drops threatening to spill from the corners of his bloodshot eyes at the relief. His hands fell from her angular face as his attention turned to her wound, the blood already soaking her shirt and jacket. BD booped loudly on his shoulder, practically screeching. “Thank Kriff it didn’t hit your chest.”

He gently tugged at her leather jacket, his fingers sliding across the material and coating in the fresh crimson blood. He barely noticed. Aylin lurched as the material brushed against her wound. A low groan catching in the back of her throat as her head fell back, suddenly feeling nauseatingly dizzy.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Cal murmured, brows furrowing as he tried to see the extent of the damage. Immediately noticing her deteriorsting state he propped her up, crouching next to her with a firm grip around her waist and her uninjured arm slung over his shoulders, grasping her hand in his bloody one. “We’ve got to get you in the ship.”

“Are you alright?” Cere skidded into view, Greez hot on her trail. Aylin gazed up at her languidly, already beginning to feel the haze of blood-loss.

“She’s in shock and she needs medical attention. A stim won’t fix this.” With the help of Cere Aylin finally stood properly, unstable on shaky legs, the pair guiding her towards the entrance to the ship as Greez scuttled inside, clearing a space on the sofa.

“I don’t feel great.” Aylin groaned, the pounding of her skull from where she had collided with the rocks below causing her to trip and stumble. “I think I’m con-concu-“ she couldn’t remember the word. Cal sat her down on the plush orange sofa as Cere left to collect some medical supplies.

“We’ve got to get this off.” Cal began tugging her jacket off, pulling the sleeve gently over her wounded shoulder. Aylin grimaced again, hands balling into fists as she shrugged the tattered jacket off. “You know,” he mumbled, draping the jacket over the holographic table. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you without this on.”

“Don’t get used to it.” She joked, smile twisting into a grimace when her shoulder knocked against the backrest as she readjusted the brace on her lower arm, blood smearing onto the metal. “I already miss it.” Cal laughed at her comment as his fingers fluttered over the scorched flesh of her shoulder, his hand resting delicately on her bicep to keep her steady. Aylin had been travelling with the company for about a year now, and even though it had taken a while for them to trust each other in the current climate, Cal couldn’t even remember what life had been like until she had stumbled into it, quite literally. He could feel his heart begin to race at the mere though of what could of happened if the troops aim had just slightly moved to the left. His throat tightened at the thought, the alternative wasn’t worth dwelling on. Cal was drawn back from his thoughts by Cere, who sat down opposite the pair, a bundle of medical supplies in her arms.

“Look at me.” Cere commanded, a small flashlight in hand. Both turned towards her, Cal with a look of curiosity, Aylin with a half conscious glance.

“Cere what-“ the older woman grabbed the blondes chin with a firm grip, forcing her head forward as she shone the small light into her amber eyes. Aylin jumped back, wincing, her hands coming up to grab at either side of her head.

“Fuck Cere I’ve already got a migraine, no need t-“

“You’ve got a concussion.” She quips, rolling her eyes. Cal hides a laugh into his elbow as Aylin glares at the woman, fingers still roughly massaging her scalp.

“Cere is this the time? The kids got a hole in her shoulder.” Greez meanders into the living quarters, desperately trying to avoid gazing at the mangled mess of Aylins shoulder.

“Concussions can be deadly. I can fix that shoulder no problem.” Without warning Cere sticks a syringe into Aylins left bicep, the uninjured one, and injects a purple liquid into her system. Cal actually saw the difference, the scowl of pain instantly lifting from her face and her shoulders slacking at the release of tension.

“Better?” Cal grinned, thumb absentmindedly massaging her upper arm.

“Much better.” BD shrilled loudly from Cal’s shoulder, hopping up and down excitedly. She smiled softy at the droid, reaching out to run her fingers along its antenna. “Thanks buddy.”

“Cal can you come and sit over here? I need you to hold her arm still.” Cere shuffled over to allow Cal to crouch in front of the pair, antiseptic-drenched cloth in each hand. Cere turned towards Aylin, who had paled in colour considerably upon noticing the rags in her hands. “This is going to hurt, you’re going to have to stay still.”

“We don’t have any painkillers?” Aylin questioned, her eyes widening a fraction. At her lack of response Aylin purses her lips. Cal frowned as his grip tightened against the junction between her neck and shoulder, his other grasping just above her elbow. Greez immediately excused himself from the room, speed walking back to the cockpit. Cal’s lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced down at the wound, fresh blood seeping from the singed flesh. Her whole arm drenched in the crimson substance. Hopefully it just looked worse than it actually is.

“It’ll be over before you know it.” He offered in comfort, lying between his teeth, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. BD booped despondently.

“Right.” She sighs, “Just get it over with.”

Without warning Cere presses both rags on the entrance and exit wounds, digging deep to be rid of all infection. Aylin, unprepared, screeches and almost leaps from her chair, if not for Cal’s hands pinning her in place. She’d had plenty of blaster wounds before and no matter how many times she went through the process, it always stung like a bitch. Her head slammed against the head rest as her foot stomped onto the floor, anything to distract her from the fiery inferno engulfing her shoulder. She clamps her mouth shut in an attempt to regain some control, the scream desperate for release reverberating about her chest and sticking in her throat. Cal’s eyes never leave her face, his own body just as rigid as hers, watching as her features twist and contort. Cere pulls back, dragging the drenched cloth in a meek attempt to try and clean up the bloody mess. Aylin sighs in relief, body falling limp.

“Not so bad, was it?” Cal whispers cheekily, removing his hand from her shoulder to pat her thigh gently, his other hand remaining just above her forearm.

She gazes back at him, trying to appear unamused though she found his comment endearing. “I’m so glad you’re here Cal, it’s always a pleasure-” She stutters as Cere begins applying the healing ointment, her arm jerking involuntarily. Cal’s hand slips to rest against the brace on her lower arm and before he can retract it a memory hits him in full force.

He’s in a market, at a vendors stall with an assortment of accessories laid out on a plush purple cloth. He can’t seem to make out where he is, but a bright sun hangs over head and a soft breeze whips sand into the air. The market is busy, full of all sorts of creatures speaking differing dialects and in the midst of it all the familiar blonde approaches, but he can tell something is different about Aylin and he frowns at the uncomfortable feeling in his gut. What powerful memory could she have of simply buying an arm brace?

He steps up next to her as she exchanges cash with the small merchant, plucking the familiar leather binding from the table. As soon as she turns away from the small creature she tugs the thin cotton material of her shirt up, exposing her forearm for the briefest moment before securing the brace in place.

All colour drains from Cal’s face as he watches her flex her fingers, a content smile tugging at her chapped lips. It had only been for the briefest of moments but he had seen it. He had seen the small ink black tattoo etched onto her tanning skin. He had seen who she really was; TX-5579.

Cal lurches away from her, falling onto his elbows along the ships floor. Both women stare down at him incredulously as he breaths heavily. BD-1 beeps as he hops over, concern evident in the little boops he released. Cal pays him no mind, his eyes transfixed on the woman before him, on the stormtrooper before him. He felt like throwing up.

“Cal are you-” Aylin stops in her tracks as Cal scrambles to his feet, his eyes never leaving the leather binding on her forearm. She knew Cal had some strange abilities with the use of the Force, and she paled as she realised what he might have seen. “Cal, no-”

“Cere get away from her.” His voice is both panicked and stern, both hurt and enraged. He felt like his chest was being ripped open, that he couldn't breathe. The dark haired woman glances up from her work on Aylin’s shoulder, unamused.

“Cal, what are you-”

“I saw.” He stammers, pointing a finger accusingly at the young woman. “I saw you, I saw-”

“Cal, please, it’s not-” She tries as Cere backs away, going to stand alongside the distraught redhead. Greez emerges from the cockpit, alerted by the commotion.

“You’re one of them.” He turns to Cere. “She’s a stormtrooper.”

The air inside the ship froze, the only sound the whirring of the hull and a string of beeps from BD. No one moved and the atmosphere was so full of tension it could be sliced with a knife.

“Cal,” she tries, raising from her seat. “please, I-”

“Take it off.” He all but bellows, gesturing wildly to her leather brace. “Take it off and prove me wrong.” She freezes, there was nothing for her to do. This was it.

“I can’t-”

“Aylin-” Cere interrupts, her eyes begging her for it to not be true. Aylin struggled to meet her gaze.

“Why can’t you?” Cal steps forward, his voice uncharacteristically cold. His brows furrowed as she took a step back, still cradling her injured arm, the brace pressed against her chest. “Why, can’t, you?”

“Because what you saw is true!” She snapped, finally pulling the binding from her lower arm and dropping the heavy material onto the holographic table. The bold lettering stood out from her pale skin like a bruise, TX-5579 permanently branding her as a token of the Galactic Empire.

Greez mutters an almost inaudible “kid” at the revelation and Aylin could swear she visibly heard her heart shatter along with his.

Aylin’s mouth hung open as she tried to formulate a sentence, her mind still half preoccupied with the throbbing pain emanating from her shoulder. “I-” she tried, glancing at each of her companions in turn. Greez looked as if he had just been slapped in the face by a particularly disgusting specimen, Cere’s arms were crossed tightly across her chest, her eyes ablaze with the fury of a thousand suns. Finally, her sights landed on Cal, and she almost winced at the expression painted across his features. He looked completely and utterly betrayed, his brows furrowed together and his lips pulled into a thin line. His arms were tense at his sides, she clenched her jaw upon realising his hand rested against his saber, ready. “I’m not a stormtrooper, I-”

“You were.”

“I was never a stormtrooper.”

“If you weren’t a trooper, what were you?” Cere interrupts, pushing Cal back who had strode closer and closer to the blonde. “What did you do?”

“I-” Aylin stammered, she couldn’t tell them, she couldn’t. If this was their reaction to her being a trooper, how on earth would they react when they found out who she really was? Another wave of nausea hit her and she collapsed back onto the couch, elbow propped against the table. “I-”

“Dammnit Aylin answer the goddamn question.” Greez spoke up from beside Cal, the whole situation putting him in a bad mood. She panicked, her eyes constantly searching for a way out, for a way to just disappear.

“It’s non of your fucking business.” She bit back, her hands clenching into fists. “I’m not who I was, I defected. I-”

“You didn't tell us. You didn't tell me.” Cal was furious, his hand clenching and unclenching around his saber. “And you’re still lying. You’ve been with us for over a year and we still don’t know anything about you.”

“Stop with the bullshit Kestis.” Her outburst shocked everyone in the room, including herself. Throwing caution to the wind she continued on, she was tired, she was in pain and she’s had enough. “I’ve never given any of you a reason not to trust me. I’ve constantly put my life on the line for you all, time and time again. Yeah, fine, you don't know shit about my past but you know me, you know how much I hate the ocean, how much I love flying, how I fucking like my tea- you know me, not my past, me. If I wanted you dead, I would have done so a long time ago. I defected and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, and you lot are not going to give me shit for doing the right thing.”

The room enveloped in silence once again, the tension growing thicker with each passing moment. Carl’s eyes bore into her own and Aylin fought the urge to let her eyes wander. She had done nothing wrong, she had no reason to feel the way she was feeling; the fowl something clawing at her chest and twisting her stomach, so many things she wanted to say that clogged her throat. Their eyes locked as Cal took another step forward, ignoring Ceres hand against his shoulder. The icy blue contrasted against her earthly hazel; fire and ice, the sun and moon, water and earth, they were incompatible, Cal was only now beginning to realise. He was the first to break the intense stare. His voice a fragile whisper, far more hesitant than seconds prior.

“Is your name even Aylin?”

“Yes,” she stressed, free hand absentmindedly wrapping around her right forearm, hiding the branding from view. “They don’t take names from sup-“ She immediately cut herself off, eyes closing as she realised her mistake.

“You were a superior officer-“ Cal couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“What is your last name?” Cere questions from behind Cal, tone accusatory, leaning her shoulder against some shelving. Aylin’s fiery eyes snap towards the woman, flickering from conflicted to purely distraught. After a tense moment, the blondes features finally caught up with her emotions, settling on absolutely enraged.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Cere.” Instead of shouting, as the four others had expected, her voice was eerily monotone, an icy edge under toning every word. Cal only felt further sickened when he realised this was most likely an attribute she had learnt from her time with the Empire. “You don’t get to judge me for this, they do,” she motioned harshly to BD, Cal and Greez, who shared a confused glance with one another. “but you can go fuck yourself before you try to play the innocent role with me. I know what you did, I know all about Trilla.”

“How do you-“ Cere had visibly paled at the revelation. Cal, Greez and BD’s focus flitted from one woman to the other, BD’s little head spinning so fast he began to whirr, his circuit fans trying to cool his joints down. Cal was by far the palest of them all, his stomach churning as the reality of things came crashing down. He had trusted these people, he had finally found a home, and now, that home was crumbling through no fault of his own, the pillars of lies at its foundation destroyed with each fatal truth surfaced.

Trust only in the Force. His masters final words echoed back to him, he worked his tense jaw at the memory. Why couldn’t he just listen for once?

Greez was completely and utterly lost, he really didn’t understand the crooks of the situation, and with how everyone around him was acting, he didn’t think he wanted to. He glanced towards Cal, and upon seeing the dazed look in his eyes, reached up to place a comforting hand against his shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter how I know, but I do, and if I’m going to be held accountable for my past, so are you.”

“Cere what is she on about?”

“Not now Cal.” She snapped back, eyes never leaving the dark blondes from across the room.

“No, I think he deserves to know.” Aylin interrupted the exchange, finally gathering enough strength to stand, hip propped against the table. “Cere told you her padawan didn’t make it, right?” Cal nodded stifly, gaze flickering to Cere. “Well that’s not entirely true. You see, after Order 66 Cere was taken in for questioning and then requisitioning, as were a majority of Jedi Masters. Unlike the majority of Jedi Masters, Cere still lives to tell the tale. Do you ever wonder how? Why her, of all masters, survived?”

Cere’s fists clenched as Aylin took a step forward, her full attention on Cal.

“She didn’t die so her padawan could live. She sacrificed her padawan so that she” the blonde glared pointedly. “could live. Cere escaped and left Trilla behind, and now she’s the Second Sister.”

“You have no idea what it was like-“ the dichotomy of both the plea for understanding aimed at Cal, combined with the seething venom aimed towards Alylins accusations created an unusual tone, the woman’s dark eyes shifting with emotion as they landed on each separate individual in the room. Cere’s tone was something Cal had never witnessed before, on any living creature, but for Aylin it was as familiar as the brightened tone to a child’s laugh, or the sullen croak of those laden with grief. She had seen this instance time and time again, traitor upon traitor, prisoner upon prisoner, begging for understanding yet grounded in conviction.

“For you personally, no I don’t. But I know exactly what it entails. So many masters before and after you didn’t break under the presssure, most barely splintered. And yet you’re going to try and persuade me - him -“ she gestured to Cal, gathering her discarded jacket in her arms. “that you’re circumstances were significantly different. Own up to your mistakes Cere. I don’t pretend to be something I’m not, you do.”

The room plunged into another bought of sickening silence, the tension thick enough that it began to suffocate the tall redhead pressing himself against the wall, desperate to just get away. It was too much, the yelling, the arguing, the hatred and the anger seeping into him through the force from those around him. Two outcomes lay before him, and with solemnity he realised which path was inevitable, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try his damnest to try and salvage what he could from the fiery inferno before him.

“As much as you may hate to admit it, none of us are perfect. Not me, not you,” Aylin pointed to Cal and Greez. She turns to Cere. “and certainly not you.” Spinning on her heel she practically marches to her sleeping quarters, her clenched fists hidden beneath the jacket she gripped to her chest.

Cal scrambled after her retreating figure, his blood pounding in his ears as the panic began to consume him; if this wasn’t resolved, this could be it. Somehow he managed to get in front of her, gripping both of her shoulders “We need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing more to talk about.”

“No, there is. We can fix this, everyone just needs to calm down-“

Aylin felt nauseated at the hope theat lingered in the depths of Carl’s crystalline pools that bore into her. The swirling blue now redrimmed with the stresses of the day. As much as she stood by what she had said to Cere, she would sooner die than recount every last word, she knew, deep down, Cere also spoke the truth. She couldn’t be trusted, not after all the monstrous things she had done. It was foolish to believe other wise. She was foolish to think she ever had a chance. “21.” Bursts from her lips before she could prevent it, her small lips pressing into a thin line as Cal’s grip on her shoulders tightened and his brows furrowed. In some sick way, she was thankful for the pain seeping from her shoulder as his grip tightened; it grounded her, and inadvertently, even if Cal didn’t realise what he was doing, it was payback. Payback for the pain she was about to inflict.

“What?” His voice was airy, preparing for whatever blow he was about to hit full force.

“That’s the number of Jedi I helped the Empire capture. 21.” His hands immediately retracted, as if the contact burnt the very flesh from his palms. Aylin ignored the horror in his eyes, burying her own regret with the monotonous stare she had mastered. She didn’t give him a chance to leave before she continued, he deserved to know. “Atleast 10 were younglings, padawans, whatever you call them. They all died, I gave the orders.” He looked pale, too pale, a thin sheen of sweat covered every inch of exposed skin she could see. His features acted completely on their own; there was no more restraint, no more hiding - complete and utter horror, anguish and fury swirled with the depths of his pale yet drakened features, she could practically sense the disgust that rolled off of him in waves.

She knew this image would forever be burned into her mind, alongside all the other horrors she had faced, and she knew this would be the image to haunt her beyond the grave.

Regardless, she continued; she had dug this hole, and she wasn’t finished yet, she wanted to dig until the rays of the overhanging sun failed to reach her, until she was cast into the dark abyss and forgotten, along with the horrors she had committed. “I was a superior officer, I was awarded one of the highest positions in the Galactic Empire, I answered directly to Lord Vader himself.” She sidestepped the young man, heading to her dorm. He didn’t turn to watch her, but he could still hear every ragged breath that parted her lips. “It was a game for me Cal, and I was winning, and I lived for it.”

Cal usually had a hard time reading her emotions through the force, she was always disconnected, in a sense, but now she was an open book, each emotion crashing into him like the most ferocious tsunami; the pride that had gripped her with every fallen Jedi; the thrill of the chase; the glee at another puzzle to solve and destroy.

“But that’s not who I am anymore, Cal.”

He felt the conflict she had hidden for so long; the anguish once she realised the consequences of her actions; the regret; the terrror; the disgust; the pain; the loathing that had gripped every fibre of her being, that now threatened to suffocate them both.

She took one final breath as she stepped into the boundaries of her room, turning to face Cal with an indescribable look plastered upon her features.

“I’m not who I was, but there’s no changing who I used to be.”

And then the door slid shut.