#holding onto this with both hands until I see another character with the same blaster because they are just *standard issue* weapons

[laneboyheathens]

Becoming increasingly delusional about this theory

Ruescott Melshi in Andor Season 2 Trailer

[echos-newlegs]

if you’re still doing requests, would you maybe do #9 with Crosshair & a reader that uses he/him pronouns (but is maybe not cis idk?)?? Like maybe the batch rescued the reader from some sort of bad situation, & Cross is the only one awake to comfort him when the reader wakes up from a nightmare or has a flashback??? If this is too specific just lmk I just have a lot of Feelings about Crosshair ahdjajdjsksm

-boba-filth (<— side blog I check more for fic stuff)

Bad Dreams

Heck yes 😎 sorry if it is out of character and cruddy. Running into a bit of a writers block, but I’m tryna force it over— maybe.

@boba-filth

Crosshair x reader: “I’m not going to leave you, not now, not ever. You’ll never have to suffer alone again.”

Warnings: brief mentions of family death, touch starved, slightly out of character. Passing out/fainting from being malnourished. Reader is a Slave and TBB save them.

You were born into slavery. It was what made up your life. You never once imagined that you could be free. Live your own life. Make your own decisions. The idea of freedom made you laugh, honestly. It was just such a far stretch and unimaginable. You figured you'd die in the spice mines like the rest of your family did.

You were on lunch break. Eating quickly to avoid getting harassed or beaten by one of the soldiers watching you and the other workers on break. You guys rarely got time to yourselves. When you did, it was barely even a half hour long. So food was often shoved into your system like it was your last meal.

You looked up when you heard the sirens go off. Breath catching in your throat. They only went off for intruders or when there was a group of miners attempting escape. The noise was enough to have you and the others standing and starting your own commotion.

Fights broke out, blasters were fired. You didn't want to be caught in the middle of the fire, so you ran. Your eyes wide and darting around. You had to hide. Sure, life sucked, but you didn't want to die. Not today at least.

"Hey, you there!" A guard shouted, pointing to you. Making you run faster in a panic. You felt tears prick the corner of your eyes when a hand grasped your arm. Pulling you to the side. "Where d'ya think you're goin', wise one?" Another guard asked. Your body trembling as you stared up to him. "I was, I was just, I was getting out of the mess. They were firing-" you rambled. The guard snarling and shoving you. "Can it, fool."

You were sure you'd be shot. Closing your eyes when the one holding your arm raised a blaster to your forehead. "We don't do well with run aways, do we?" "Nope," the other guard answered. "What do ya say we play a-" Bang! Bang!

You inhaled sharply. Squeezing your eyes shut more than they were. Jumping as your fists clenched at the sound of the blaster. The smell of burning flesh and blaster residue filling your nose. "Hey, you alright?" A voice came from in front of you. Eyes parting to see someone in armor, with goggles? You were alarmed, to say the least. They had to be an intruder. But why did they save you..? A nobody?

"You saved me.." you babbled. Blinking in shock as you stared at the other. "Well, you looked like you needed the help, are you alright, though?" You nodded, rubbing your arm where the guard squeezed. You were sure there would be a bruise there. Your skin was so sensitive anymore. "Good," he started walking off, and you felt your body tremble again. "Wait! I know the exits. I can help you, if you get me out of here." You bargained. The man turning back to face you. Sighing, then kicking a blaster from one of the motionless bodies to you. "Alright, but stay close."

You did as told, and kept your piece of the deal. Following who you soon learnt to be named Tech, around the mines. The two of you meeting up with four other men. Who each had bags full of viles of spices. "Who's this?" The one asked, motioning to you with his helmet. "Our escape plan, they claim to know some exits." "The guards don't even know about them. We use them to get out of the mines for our breaks." You added, and the bigger of the men shoved you a bit. Though it wasn't in a forcing way. "Then let's get going!"

The six of you took through the tunnels. Feet grinding against the gravel as you ran. You felt so weak, tired. You wanted to rest, but this was your chance at freedom. Even if you didn't know these men. Life as their servant or whatever they planned on doing with you, would be a hell of a lot better than this life you portrayed.

You pressed your back against the wall when you heard foot steps that weren't your guys. Motioning for them to do the same, and they did. Men running by the tunnel hall heading the other direction. "How much further?" Tech asked, and you pointed to a latter. "There, that latter. It leads up to the surface." You spoke, and they nodded. Motioning for you to head there first, so they could keep watch.

The ground began to shake, parts of the tunnel behind you collapsing. "Hurry!" You shouted. The pain in your chest making your throat clench. Climbing up the latter as quickly as you could. The boys following after you. Making it out just as the tunnels caved in.

You practically threw yourself on the ground as you made it to the top. Everyone doing the same. Each of you panting, adrenaline racing. "So who are you guys?" You asked in between breaths. Standing to your feet a bit shakily. "We're Clone Force 99," one spoke. "We call ourselves the Bad Batch, I'm Hunter, this is Tech, Crosshair, Echo, and Wrecker." You nodded a bit. "Thank you," you murmured. Them all giving you a questioning look under their visors, and you were sure of it by the way Echo and Tech tilted their heads. "For helping free me."

Tech nodded. Approaching you, helping steady you as you swayed. "You can some with us, least we can do for you helping us." You looked to the others, and they all nodded. "Got any family?" You frowned. "No." Everyone was silent at that. "Well, it's settled then, Tech, Echo, help them to the ship. Cross, keep a look out for any guards or clankers. Wrecker, help me carry the cargo." Hunter spoke, causing you to weakly smile. Passing out at some point to the ship.

When you went limp in their arms everyone panicked. Echo and Techs grip tightening on you to help lift your deadweight. "Are they alright?" Wrecker asked, and Echo sighed as the two raced you into the Marauder. "I'd say they're just wore, they look extremely malnourished, I know from experience it's hard to not pass out in that state." Echo informed. Lying you on a bunk, and Tech nodded. "They aren't a clone, either, so I'm shocked they kept standing as long as they did."

You were fine, really, but Tech and the others took turns watching over you while you rested. Water and rations next to the bunk you rested on. It was Crosshairs turn for the night to keep watch. Make sure if you woke up before they got back to Naboo to return the cage that he could explain where you were. Keep you from panicking, or so they hoped.

You were beginning to sweat. Eyebrows creasing, hands balling into fists at your sides while you dreamt. It was hardly a dream, more a reply of your past. Your family. Watching them die before you. Held at gun point. Bags over there heads, blaster shot to their foreheads. Out of your parents and four younger siblings, you were the only one kept alive.. 'This is what happens to slaves who don't listen! '

You jerked up with a startled sob. Hands clenching the sheets. Feet scrambling while you looked around. Chest rising and falling in a quickened pace as your eyes darted around the dimly lit room.

Crosshair looked up from polishing his gun at the commotion. Setting the rifle and cloth aside. "You okay?" He asked, he wasn't too confident on what to ask. Other than that. Watchibg as your head turned to look at him. "Who are you?" You asked with worry. He was about to question you, until he remembered you hadn't seen them without their helmets. "It's crosshair, you saved my brothers and I from the mines." He explained. You calmed slightly at that. Licking your lips, then looking down. "Oh okay," was all you spoke.

You both sat there in silence for a bit. Your hands relaxing. Now resting in your lap as you leant against the wall. Attempting to steady your breathing. "There's some food and water for ya." He motioned to the small table beside you, and your eyes darted to it. You were starving, you didn't get to eat today before the alarms sounded. Raching over to take the rations and water. Dowing them both like you'd never eaten in you life. Which sometimes it felt that way.

Crosshair watched with a small smirk. "Hungry, little one?" You felt a bit self-concious at his words. Only nodding slightly as you took a final sip of the water. Then placing the tray back down next to the bed.

"You have bad dreams often?" He questioned, and you looked down to your hands. Fiddling your thumbs as you nodded shyly. "Sometimes, yeah.." he sighed at that. "I can lay down with you," he joined, causing you to glance over to him. Watching as he stood and approached where you were resting. Taking this time to notice he wasn't in his armor anymore. Only his blacks, which gave you a better image of his body. As the fabric hugged his skin.

Your heart was racing. Squeezing your hands together to keep them from trembling. You hadn't had physical contact in so long, even the offer of it intimidated, but also excited you. "You don't have to," you told him, and he shrugged. "It'll help us both."

You scooted over as he began to climb into the bed. Pulling the covers over the both of you. The two of you sinking down to lay on your backs with small sighs. "You this nice to every new comer you come across?" You asked. Turning onto your side to face him. Cross turning his head to look at you with a small shrug. "Maybe I am," he gruffed. Making you smile a bit. "I doubt it."

Crosshair didn't respond to that. The room falling quiet again. "You get bad dreams too, then?" You blurted, and he exhaled. "Yeah," you nodded a bit. "Do you ever.. Dream about memories? Bad ones?" You asked. Playing with the fabric of the pillow, and he nodded again. "I keep dreaming about my families death." You admitted, and he looked over to you. His expression unreadable, but his eyes screamed worry. "Does it ever stop?" You asked. Voice cracking.

He thought for a moment, then licked his lips. "Somedays." You felt a little better hearing that, you guessed. "Sometimes they're worse." You frowned at that.

He looked over, catching your look of disappointment and displeasure. Turning to his side to reach out for you. It was weird for him, touching someone he barely knew, but you seemed like you needed it, and something about you struck his interest. He saw part of himself in you.

"Hey, I’m not going to leave you, not now, not ever. You’ll never have to suffer alone again.” He reassure. Rubbing small circles into the small of your back. Causing you to stop breathing for a second. Processing what was happening. "But you tell aby of my brothers about this, I'm leaving you in the streets of Naboo." You smiled faintly at that. Unsure if he was serious or not, but you could hear the hint of sarcasm in his voice. You hummed, curling up closer to him. "I won't."

[eyayah-oya]

I never knew what I was missing

Cloneship Week Day 2 - Soulmates - @cloneshipweek

Jesse/Kix

Rating: T

Canon typical violence, major character injury (I don’t go into graphic detail of the injury, though)

Ao3 link

           Since the moment Jesse was decanted, there was an ache in the back of his mind, as though he was missing something important, but could function without it.  He’d heard whispers from other cadets that they felt the same.  They all had to be careful to not let the Kaminoans or the Cuy’val Dar know about this strange emptiness in the back of their minds for fear of what would happen to them.  Surely, this deep-seated need for something was some kind of defect the longnecks hadn’t expected.

           As Jesse got older, he began to hear even quieter rumors, basically legends, that said some of the clones found something to fill that aching emptiness.  According to those rumors, it wasn’t something that helped, but someone. But it wasn’t until Jesse was eight that he learned about soulmates.

           The Alpha class somehow managed to get access to the holonet, and they found the information on soulmates and what it means to have one.  The Alphas then passed that information down to the CCs, who passed it down to the CTs, always careful to not let any of the trainers or Kaminoans come across the information.

           A soulmate is the term used for someone that they couldn’t live without, who, once they met, would complete each other in a way that no one else was able to.  Soulmates could be platonic, familial, or romantic, but they were supposed to be the one a being could always rely on.  There weren’t any particular abilities or tactical advantages that came from finding and connecting to your soulmate, but Jesse found he rather liked the idea of having someone that was meant for him specifically.  Clones weren’t allowed much in the universe.  They weren’t even allowed to have names, though most clones gave themselves one just to prove that they were people, too.  But Jesse’s soulmate was his, whoever they were.  And that meant everything.

           Jesse first watched a brother find a soulmate just before all the battle-ready clones were sent out to Geonosis with General Yoda, Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.  He’d stepped foot inside a gunship along with his squad and a squad of brothers he didn’t know.  His batchmate was pulled across the gunship until they were standing face to face with another clone, helmets off so they could see each other.  The pure joy radiating from them bolstered everyone’s spirits even higher than they already were.  After all, the Jedi had finally come, and they would be able to finally fulfill their purpose.

           Two hours later, he watched his batchmate get shot in the face by a Geonosian and the newly found soulmate nearly break down from grief and pain.  Less than a minute later, and the other clone met his own end.

           So many clones died on Geonosis.  So many who had never found their soulmates.  So many that had, and were now separated by death itself. And there were many who followed their soulmates quickly into death, rather than survive and live a life without the other.

           Following that battle, Jesse found himself fearing that void in the back of his mind where his soulmate was supposed to be.  Had they died before they’d even met?  How did he know that his soulmate was gone if they’d never found each other?  Was it an awful pain like he’d seen with his new squad in the 501st?  Would he ever be able to find out, or would Jesse be stuck in an endless ignorance?

           There were no answers.  Fellow clones, vod’e, couldn’t answer him, and nat-borns had rarely had to worry about that kind of thing until the war broke out.  Sure, there was probably someone, somewhere who might know the answer, but there was no way to scientifically prove anything as no one knew their soulmate until they met.

           As the war progressed, Jesse did his best to ignore everything about soulmates.  As soldiers, they were supposed to be the best fighters, defending the Republic against the Separatist droid armies.  Worrying about his soulmate would only distract him and put everyone else in danger. He’d seen vod’e self-destruct after their batchmate or cyare were killed, and Jesse could admit that he never wanted to deal with anything like that.

           It wasn’t until a difficult battle on some Outer Rim planet that was mostly marshes that he was abruptly confronted with the idea of soulmates again.

           “Get down!  Get down!” Jesse shouted at the group of shinies he had been put in charge of. The blast of a cannon from one of those octo-droids nearly blew the head off of a kid who was cackling madly as he shot the incoming droids with his Z6.  Jesse managed to pull him behind shelter just in time, practically flattening the kid to keep him safe.

           “What the kark do you think you were doing?” Jesse ground out. He pulled the shiny up enough for them to crawl away from their current position to try to find someplace a bit more defensible.  He’d already lost two members of his squad in this skirmish and he didn’t want to lose any more.  The shiny just scrambled after his squadmates, pausing every few feet to take out the droids that were getting too close to their position.

           Christophsis was a nightmare.  They’d taken the city easily enough the first time, but with the spy that had taken out their weapons depot, the Separatists were winning against both General Skywalker and General Kenobi.  Too many men in both companies were dying, and from what Jesse understood, no one was answering their plea for reinforcements.

           New orders came through over Jesse’s HUD, and he quickly turned to gather the eight shinies he had left.  “Retreat and regroup with the main army.  Keep your heads down and blasters up.”

           “Yes, sir!” they chorused.

           The extra shooty shiny cackled wildly.  “Let’s get these clankers!” he shouted and popped up to mow down a row of clankers with his Z6, completely disregarding the blaster bolts headed his way.

           Jesse tugged the shiny back down and glared extra hard at him, hoping that he would be able to feel the glare despite the bucket.  “Keep your damn head down or you’re going to get it blown off.  Stick with your squad and head back to the base,” Jesse ordered angrily.

           With a sheepish salute, the shiny turned and followed his squadmates as they ran back to the base.  Jesse covered their flanks as they ran, taking out as many B-1s and SBDs as he could as he followed a minute later.  The whine of a cannon sent Jesse diving into cover.  He gulped in lungfuls of air as desperately as he could while he had a second of respite until the droids would reach his position and he’d be forced to move again.  At least his shinies made it back to base safely.

           The giant crystal Jesse hid behind glowed a brilliant blue-green and he had only a second to think “Oh shit,” before the world around him exploded.

           He lost time, though he wasn’t sure how much.  There was a sharp pain in his chest that hurt with every breath he took, but especially when he coughed.  Something metallic lingered in his mouth, making him gag from the awful flavor, but there was nowhere to spit it out.  Protocol had been drilled into his head from the time he was decanted:  Never remove your helmet in an active battle.  The last thing he wanted was to have nasty tasting spit inside his bucket.

           Blaster bolts flashed overhead, blue and red striking against the green crystal the city was built of.  It was strangely beautiful, the danger adding to the beauty in a way that Jesse couldn’t describe.  Soothing. Reality warped a little, and Jesse began to drift.  Drift far away, following his brothers who had marched on.

           Something deep in the back of his mind snapped into place, filling the empty space that had always existed.  Jesse jolted as if he had been shocked, and let out an awful sob at the pain coursing through his chest.  His immediate instinct was to curl in away from the pain, but something was holding him down, keeping him from moving.  Somehow, that was more terrifying than anything else he had experienced since he’d first been deployed to Geonosis.

           “Stop moving!  I need a stretcher, stat!  Massive bleeding from the chest cavity, but I have a pulse and I plan to make sure he has a pulse by the end of the day.”

           Jesse relaxed as he recognized a brother’s voice.  A helmet appeared in his visual range as something pressed against his chest.  A scream wrenched from the depths of his chest in response, heaving sobs making the pain worse with every breath and every slight shift in movement.  It was worse than anything else he had ever experienced in his life.

           And yet . . .

           The hole in his mind had been filled.  Jesse, sometime between long moments lost to agony, realized that meant he had met his soulmate.  It took long minutes later, when the medic managed to get him onto a makeshift stretcher for transport back to the base, that he realized the medic was his soulmate.  His other half.  The one that was supposed to complete him in every way.

           A feeling pulsed from the area that Jesse knew his soulmate now occupied, though it was barely noticeable with all the pain signals firing in his brain.  It was a warm, soothing feeling, almost like a hug, or praise from the Captain or the Commander.  Warm like the rare sunny day on Kamino and warm like the jungle sims they trained on. Warm like batchmates piling together in the same tube for comfort.  It was as comforting as a hug from his batchmates, though all of them had been killed on Geonosis. In the middle of treating his life-threatening wounds, his soulmate was making sure Jesse felt safe and cared for. Whoever this medic was, Jesse thought that maybe, just maybe, he could fall in love with them.

           Well, at least I know I’m in good hands, Jesse thought deliriously.  The medic would do everything he could to make sure Jesse lived to see the end of the day.

           Every step of the way back to base jolted his injury further, and distantly, Jesse wondered what, exactly, had put him in this condition. Blaster wounds didn’t usually bleed since they instantly cauterized the wound.  Maybe shrapnel?  Definitely something sharp and definitely something poking his lungs.  Jesse did not recommend lungs being poked.  Universe, kindly kark off and never let something like that happen to him again, please and thank you.

           “Move!  Out of the way, soldier!” the medic snapped and Jesse could hear a mad scramble as whichever brothers were in his way scampered off to the side.

           “Is he gonna be okay?”  Jesse recognized the voice of his shooty shiny, though how he managed to do that while delirious with pain escaped him.  Maybe it was the number of times the shiny seemed to put himself in danger during the last few days.

           “I will do everything I can to make sure he is,” the medic responded, very carefully not promising anything.  Good vod.  It’s a bad idea to give false hope, just as it’s a bad idea to promise something he wouldn’t have much control over.  Jesse would die when his time was up, and until then, he would fight to stay alive every second.

 -------

           “You’re lucky you survived,” the medic said later, after the battle was saved and both the Resolute and the Negotiator were headed to their next mission.  Jesse didn’t know the details, and he didn’t care to, either.  What he did care about was the fact that his soulmate was sitting beside his bed and had saved his life and Jesse still didn’t know his name.

           “I had a good medic,” Jesse quipped.  He groaned as he began to test the mobility of his extremities. Chest wounds were awful, and he desperately hoped he would never have to live through one again.

           “It was a close thing.  You had to be put in a bacta tank for two days before you were healed enough to be put in a bed.  A few more minutes out there and you would have bled out.”

           From what Jesse remembered, that made sense.  “What impaled me?” he decided to ask.

           The medic grabbed something from the tray beside his bed. A green crystal shard from Christophsis the size of his thumb lay innocently on the medic’s palm.  It glinted innocently in the harsh lights of the medbay, ethereal and stunning.  And yet, that thing had nearly killed him on the battlefield of Christophsis.

           “Guess the most beautiful things really are the most dangerous,” Jesse said.

           The medic snorted and turned to fill out some forms on his datapad.  Jesse shamelessly used this opportunity to study his soulmate. The vod had intricate designs cut into his hair, which was cut down to a buzz.  He had sharper cheekbones and a thinner face than most other clones, though for any nat-born the difference wouldn’t be noticeable.  There was also a tattoo on the side of his head that read “The only good droid is a dead one.”  Jesse agreed completely.  Mostly. The mousedroids and the General’s R2 unit weren’t bad.  Any Seppie droid though?  Yeah, they were only good when they were reduced to scrap.  The medic’s hands were slimmer than Jesse’s, the way most medics’ hands were. It was easier to treat delicate injuries if you didn’t have to worry about thick fingers getting in the way. Some brothers called medics delicate, but Jesse had never thought that way.  Medics were stronger than the average clone, simply because they had to pick up and haul brothers far from the battle while they were in their armor. Plus, they had to deal with the deaths of thousands of brothers without breaking themselves.  Medics were the strongest vod’e.

           “Have you finished your staring?”

           Jesse smirked.  “Nope. But I would like your name.”

           The medic answered with a sharp grin.  He leaned forward, his elbow on Jesse’s bed and his chin propped up on his fist.  “What makes you think you should have it?”

           “I’d like to know who my savior is,” Jesse answered. He felt a flicker of amusement coming from the space in his mind where the medic had taken root.  “You and I are gonna be close, I can tell.”

           “Those lines don’t work on me,” the medic said, his smile still razor-sharp.  “I only give my name to a di’kutla runi that doesn’t end up in my medbay bleeding from their chest.”

           Jesse’s heart fluttered in his chest, broadcasted to the whole medbay by the karking machine monitoring his vitals.  The medic had called him “runi”.  Soul.  The Alphas had overheard that word from some of the trainers on Kamino when they talked about families left behind or marching ahead.  The medic really was his soulmate.

           Said medic was a karking bastard though and should definitely stop smirking like that every time Jesse’s heart literally skipped a beat. That smirk was doing dangerous things to his mind, and he hated that he was stuck in a bed in the medbay for the foreseeable future.  At least he’d be able to talk to his soulmate and get to know him.  If said soulmate would karking cooperate.

           “Kix,” the medic said after a few minutes of Jesse trying to tamp down his blush and get his wayward heart to stop betraying him.

           “Huh?” Jesse said intelligently.

           “My name.  Kix. With an x.”

           Kix.  Jesse rolled the name around in his head for a few seconds before he decided that the name suited his soulmate.  “I’m Jesse. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

           “You too.”  The smirk shifted into a softer smile.  One that reminded Jesse of the warmth he had felt when their connection had snapped into place and Kix tried to comfort him while treating his shrapnel wound.  The warmth that delirious Jesse had decided he could easily fall in love with.

           With a clap of his hands, Kix turned away from Jesse’s bed, who immediately ached to reach out and keep.  He didn’t want to be alone and he certainly didn’t want his soulmate to leave.

           “Now that you’re awake, I have a pack of shinies that I am officially making your problem.”  Kix opened the medbay doors and waved to someone down the hall.  He turned and flashed that same dangerous smile.  “Good luck.  You’re gonna need it.”

           Jesse decided that he would deal with a hundred shooty shinies if it meant he could hear Kix’s laugh again when the reckless one (who promptly declared that his name was Hardcase, given to him by Captain Rex himself) started talking a minute at Jesse without getting a single breath between sentences.

           It would definitely be worth it.  After all, the Mandalorian wedding vows (stolen off the holonet in a Mando’a learning module) mention raising warriors together.  Who better than the shinies of the 501st?

[cinlat]

Whumptober 2021: Day 19

No. 19 - JUST A SCRATCH bitten | bleeding | stabbing

Characters: Sith Fynta & Ahuska ( @dingoat​) Fandom: swtor Affiliated Fic:  Whiskey and Tihaar & Top Shelf

Word Count: 804  Rating: T Guest: Ahuska *art by Dingoat

Fynta didn’t like stables. She didn’t like animals, or the crunch of hay beneath her boots, or the potential surprises that hay hid. She hated the smell of animal feces and musk. So did the Sith she had traveled with.

Picking her spot, Fynta planted one foot and brought the clunky lightsaber up in an arc. The blade’s output had been reduced enough to cause only mild burns without the potential for severing limbs, and scorched the wooden support beam it rebounded off of. Fynta hissed out a curse and staggered into one of the stall doors. It swung open, dropping her onto her ass and sending a shock of pain through her torso so intense that it stole her breath.

Boots thumped across the grated floor to reveal the silhouetted image of a Bothan against the lights. “What the shabbing hell are you doing in here?” Pale eyes darted to the lightsaber still burning in Fynta’s hand, the smoldering of the hay it touched, then Ahuska’s lips pulled back to show an impressive array of teeth.

“Easy,” Fynta gasped, holding up her hands and deactivating the weapon. Movement of any sort sent a wave of agony through her side, but she swallowed it and clambered onto unsteady feet. “It was on low, see?” Fynta pointed to the darkened wood, but that only added to the rage in the Bothan’s eyes. 

Ahuska looked into the stall that Fynta had struck, then snorted. “You’re lucky that one was empty. Now out. You are not welcome here.” The shove that accompanied the command hadn’t been gentle, but not strong enough to elicit the curse that exploded through Fynta’s clenched teeth. 

Ahuska’s ears flicked forward, then she sniffed the air. “You're hurt.”

Fynta huffed a pained laugh at the accusation in Ahuska’s voice, then pressed one hand to her side. Though neither were particularly friendly, their paths had crossed enough over the years to develop a peculiar relationship built on secrets, lies, and grudging trust. “Blasters aren’t very good at deflecting lightsaber strikes.” She’d managed to hide the blistered skin from her fellow assassin, but Fynta couldn’t take the chance of it happening again.

“Neither are you, apparently,” Ahuska retorted. Outwardly, the Bothan still wore the same look of contempt that Fynta had become accustomed to. On the inside, she was light and warmth. Fynta hated how much that drew her in.

Sighing, Ahuska held her hand out for Fynta’s lightsaber. Seeing no reason to deny the woman her request, she handed it over. The worst she could do was add another burn to Fynta’s ego. Ahuska flicked the blade on, lifting one brow at the pale blade. “This isn’t yours.” Again, accusation laced each word, this time, Fynta had earned it. 

Shaking her head, Fynta forced a grin. “I...lost mine shortly after joining the academy. That one’s on loan.” Though, its previous owner wouldn’t be coming for it again. Fynta had started with a red blade, like all Sith at the academy, but had promptly spaced. At the time, Fynta had hated everything it stood for. She hadn’t seen the practicality of such a weapon until it was almost too late. 

Ahuska chose not to ask about how Fynta had acquired the weapon. Checking over her shoulder, both of the Bothan's ears swiveled towards the entry. Fynta reached out, sensing for life beyond their quiet sanctuary. Seemingly satisfied, Ahuska activated the blade and performed a complex array of steps that left Fynta envious. 

When she was done, Ahuska nodded. “It’s a good weapon.” She deactivated the beam and offered it back to Fynta. “The problem lies in the operator.”

“You won’t get any argument from me.” Fynta hooked the hilt on her built, hating its unfamiliar weight immediately. “They aren’t really my style.”

“Clearly.” An awkward silence settled between them, then Ahuska growled. “If I teach you how to use that, will you go away?”

Fynta’s brows lifted before she could shield her reaction. “You’d teach me to wield a lightsaber?” Ahuska’s ears flattened and she looked away, arms folded against her chest. She hated Fynta for knowing what she was, the only sour note in the rhythm that had drawn Fynta to her years back. For her part, Fynta harbored incomprehensible jealousy of the once Jedi who’d been adopted into a clan, while Fynta’s had thrown her to the Sith. 

Heaving a breath that made her wince, Fynta nodded. “Deal. Teach me how to use that damn light sword, and I’ll stay out of your stables.” 

“Fine.” Ahuska unfolded her arms, looked like she might offer to shake on the agreement, then changed her mind. Her gaze slid to the side that Fynta still cradled, then rolled with exasperation. “Come on, I’ve got a first aid kit over here. Meh gar kyrayc, shuk bah ni.”

[tarisilmarwen]

@badthingshappenbingo

Title: “Defiant”

Prompt: Interrogation

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Character(s): Mart Mattin

Warnings: Depiction of electric torture, blood and major injury

AO3, FFNet, Request a prompt/character

I had the idea, I had the perfect prompt, so basically no one was gonna stop me from writing this one, lol.

Set sometime unspecified after “Iron Squadron”

---

The boy tramped quickly down the hallway, his pulse beating in time to the shrill alarm. Mart caught a glimpse around his next corner and pulled up sharply, cursing inside his head. Very carefully he peeked out, leaning just far enough around the bend to see.

A single Stormtrooper was standing his ground against the large, hulking form of one of the animals Mart and his squad had released from their pens, its jowls snapping and dripping drool, hideously furious at the blaster bolts stinging its thick skin.

Giving a soft groan, Mart pulled out his comlink.

"Iron Squadron, come in," he said. "I'm cut off from the hanger, one of those unhappy science projects is blocking my way. You're gonna have to take off without me," he told the others.

Gooti's voice immediately piped in over the line.

"No way!" she declared, fervent and determined. "We're not leaving until you're on board."

"Can you find another route?" asked Jonner, anxiously.

"No time," Mart insisted, already at a wall console, tapping out a quick distress message to beam out on all Rebel frequencies. "Get going, before they catch you too," he ordered.

Gooti huffed with clear discontent and conflict. "This better not be one of your stupid suicide ploys," she accused.

Mart shook his head, taking another look around the corner as the deformed creature lunged and began shredding its teeth into the screaming Stormtrooper. "It's not, I promise, I literally cannot get past that thing without being seen." He hitched the comlink a little higher. "And I'm not quite willing to test how grateful it is that we freed it." Fighting back a bit of nausea as he watched the creature bite apart the poor Stormtrooper, he added grimly, "Let Ezra know what happened, tell him he owes me one."

Both of the other teens grunted in affirmation, and then the channel shut off. Mart let the hand holding his comlink drop to his side as he heard running footsteps behind him.

He swallowed. Even though he'd accepted that he'd have to be left behind, that didn't make the unknown prospect of what these Imperials would do to a Rebel saboteur any easier.

Plastering on a confident smile, Mart turned around to face the trio of oncoming Stormtroopers, raising his hands in surrender.

"Gentlemen!" he called, tone pleasant and casual. "What can I do for you?"

Unamused, the closest trooper lifted his blaster.

Mart had time to grimace before the stun shot hit him.

***

When he came to, Mart began to realize how ill-equipped the Imperial research facility was for handling prisoners—of the Rebel kind at any rate. He was still in the same hallway; two troopers were standing over him while the third argued back and forth with some kind of technician. Her blonde ponytail flipped in jerks as she gestured with agitation, sometimes at him. He was still groggy from the stun shot but apparently there was some discussion happening about whether or not they should restrain him.

"Well what do you have, because we can't just let him keep laying on the floor!" the trooper complained. "Captain Ahton is going to want to question him."

The technician's face twisted with some chagrin. "We have some spare repair cable? Maybe?" she suggested.

"Then go get it!" the trooper snapped, and the woman scampered off quickly, returning momentarily with a couple coils of electric cord.

Mart blinked up hazily as she passed them to the lead trooper. They didn't even have standard-issue binders? Maybe he'd be able to escape before rescue even came.

He held onto that thought as the lead trooper bent down towards him, cord in hand.

***

The troopers dragged him none-too-gracefully through the stark halls, the toes of his boots scraping the floor as they went. Mart let them carry him, knowing his best chance to avoid undue damage to himself would be to comply... for now. He still wriggled in their holds, putting up a show of resistance that kept their grip pinchingly tight on his arms.

Finally they made it to some kind of control room or central observation chamber. The room was wider than most others in the facility, though that wasn't saying much considering he was pretty sure the Ghost's common room was bigger than this one, glass lining one wall, computer banks hugging the corners, and a very surly-looking pale Imperial officer standing in the center of the room, tapping his fisted hand against his thigh.

The officer turned to face them as the technician led the way, the troopers pulling up behind her.

"Captain Ahton," said the lead trooper, stopping in front of the man. "We found one of the Rebel insurgents," he reported.

The officer paid Mart a very brief glance and then swiveled to face his technician, pressing her anxiously, "And the test subjects?"

Her face twinged with reluctance but she confirmed, "We... couldn't recover them. They've all escaped the facility."

A pained moan of frustration sounded out of the officer's mouth as he clawed his hands against his face, head reeling back as his moan turned into a growl. Mart almost felt sorry for him for a moment.

The sympathy vanished as the officer decided to have a bit of a temper tantrum and swept his arm across one of the workstations, knocking over several items to the floor. They clattered, loud in the small space.

The officer flashed his technician with an angry look as he rounded back on her. "Do you know how much funding this little incident has just cost this operation?" he demanded hotly.

She shrank under his severe glare, curling into her shoulders mousily, timidly, stammering.

"It can't have been that much," Mart decided to interject. He tilted his head towards the outdated equipment, caked with grime and dust, the scuffed floors and chemical stains. "This place is a dump, didn't you use any budget for decent air cycling units?"

A palpable tense went through the room. The Stormtroopers holding him seemed to be making a deliberate effort to look away from him as if pretending they hadn't heard him speak.

The officer's glare was now turned full measure on him. Ahton motioned for the troopers to straighten Mart to his feet and stalked the short distance across the room as they did so, lifting him up enough for him to get his shoes on the ground.

"Listen here, boy," the officer snarled. "Our facility here might not—" He stopped, a baffled look shooting down towards Mart's ankles. His head lifted, craning sideways at the technician. "Is that... repair cable?" he asked incredulously.

She cringed, wringing her hands together in front of her. "He was a bit kicky," she explained apologetically.

"Do you know how much that costs? It took Requisitions three months for them to send—" Ahton interrupted his own rant, shielding his eyes with one hand and waving her off with the other. "Never mind."

The man composed himself with a long exhale and when he leveled his gaze on Mart again the teal green eyes were hard and vaguely threatening.

Mart stared back evenly, refusing to be cowed.

The tension held for a few seconds.

"We should contact ISB and turn you over to them," the officer said. He began to pace away, one hand held formally against his back. "But seeing as how you've ruined what was essentially my entire life's work, I'm not feeling particularly generous." Dripping scorn and contempt colored every word.

Mart snorted. "You're gonna question me here? Personally? Do you guys even have an interrogation table?" he scoffed.

"We do not," Ahton said, casually picking something up from a table. "But we have this."

He turned back around slowly, taking his time, holding up the long metal rod with his right hand. At the flicker of his thumb the pronged ends sparked, hot yellow arcs dancing across the metal.

Underneath his bravado Mart felt a nervous flicker. He looked at the device—a shock prod of some kind, clearly—with no small measure of trepidation, remembering how one of the lab experiments had screeched with unearthly howls as the end was jabbed into its leg by a trooper.

He wasn't the only one unsettled; the technician's nervous fidgeting hands were up by her mouth now, pressing against her lips and drawing away every time she tried to speak.

"Isn't—Isn't that—? Don't we use that on the test subjects?" she squeaked.

Ahton's pleased smirk confirmed it. "I'm told it's quite painful," he commented casually. Walking slowly back over he fixed Mart with a cold glare. "Right, so this is how it's going to work." All humor and pleasantry was gone, nothing but cold anger in his words now. "I'm going to ask questions," he said. He gripped the shaft of the rod a little tighter. "And you're going to give me enough useful answers to present to Imperial Command that I can salvage something out of this mess," he growled.

Mart lifted his chin defiantly. "Warning you ahead of time, that's not likely," he said.

"I'm sure," Ahton scoffed. He closed the remaining distance, getting uncomfortably close with the shock prod. "Now," he began, "how did you find this operation?"

Mart shrugged. "I have a Jedi friend who loves animals."

The officer's hand jerked forward, jamming the end of the prod into the boy's stomach.

"Nnngh!" Mart grunted as a tingling sharp pain stabbed through his gut, prickling like fire in his limbs. His upper body curled in on reflex, twitching hard.

The prod was pulled away.

"I don't appreciate smart comments," Ahton growled.

"Noted," Mart strained, unclenching his teeth with difficulty, his next few breaths labored and tight. He squeezed his eyes closed as he tried to shake off the lingering tingles. It was just as well that the officer didn't believe him, probably wasn't a good idea to talk about Ezra or hint that he might be coming back for him. Capturing a Jedi fugitive would probably be enough for old mister Budget Cuts to salvage his reputation.

"I'll ask again," the man was saying now. "Where did your intel come from?"

This time Mart flattened his mouth and met the teal green eyes with a stubborn glare.

The prod was pressed against his chest this time. Mart seized, a horrible feeling like the time he'd poked his finger into an open sparkplug shooting through him, wrenching with pressure at his chest.

He let out a pained gasp.

"Who told you where to find this lab?"

He wasn't even given enough time to answer, the prongs stabbing against his leg. His knee buckled and he sagged in the trooper's hands.

"Was it one of the scrubs?!" Ahton was agitated now, voice rising. He jammed the shock prod in several more times, in rapid succession. "A supplyman, a trooper, who?!"

Each zap stabbed through him, pulsing with sharp pain. Mart's face stayed screwed, locked in a grimace. His body crimped tighter and tighter as the pulsing electricity froze up his muscles. When the Imperial finally stopped, Mart's head was ringing. He struggled to focus his eyes, Ahton's legs blurring in and out.

He was practically dangling from the trooper's hands now, their grip under his armpits the only thing holding him up. The cord around his wrists felt rough, his skin irritated and raw from involuntarily pulling at it. But he pulled his head up, heavy as it felt.

"Wow, trust issues much?" he quipped.

The officer's eyes widened with fury. He handed the shock prod off to his technician stiffly, bending down.

The troopers let go of Mart's arms as their superior grabbed the boy by his collar and hauled him up, drawing back a fist.

Mart braced.

The punch exploded through his cheek, snapping his head aside. Mart bit down a cry, only letting a grunt escape him.

His interrogator not satisfied, he was punched again, white noise and pain flashing through his temple, sparking out his vision for a horrible second. Mart groaned, his head feeling like dozens of jagged ice edges scraping against his skull.

He felt both of Ahton's hands twisting the fabric of his shirt now, yanking him upright only to shove him backwards into the nearest computer bank.

Mart's head cracked against a corner; he hissed as fresh pain blossomed, sliding down the metal side. He craned his neck, spied the reddish smear—Yep, definitely bleeding.—and tried to struggle up onto his elbow.

"Come on," he groaned. "Can you really afford to abuse your equipment like—"

He cut off with a short shriek that strangled as Ahton swooped in to pin the shock prod against his throat, the popping, sparking end digging in just above his collarbone.

Needlelike fire tingled through him. A hot shard of molten iron was lodged in his windpipe, he couldn't speak, couldn't inhale, the electricity spasmed all through his body. His muscles cramped and tightened. His lungs were frozen, no air passing through him. The longer the shock went on the sharper the pain seemed to get, digging in like shivs. Sharper and deeper, stabbing through his whole chest. Kriff, it hurt and he couldn't breathe and—

The prod was pulled away.

For a terrifying few milliseconds after the pain cleared Mart still couldn't make himself breathe. But then a jagged gasp shuddered down his windpipe and he gulped open-mouthed, a harsh cough spasming through him.

His lungs felt like the insides had been scraped out with a spoon. Every limb was sore, his neck most of all. The back of his head burned sharply, hot drops of blood creeping through his hair. Dry air wheezed through him.

Mart didn't know when he'd slid the rest of the way to the floor, but he lay there for a moment just trying to recover. He pried his eyes open. Blinked once or twice to clear his vision. The Imperial officer stood over him, sneering down his nose with cold disgust. The shock prod hung loose in his hand.

The boy felt a cold flare of defiance settling under his sternum. Jerk. Sadist had probably done this and worse to those trapped, abused creatures he and the others had freed. The state of their hides, scarred and riddled with open sores and still-healing wounds...

He raised his head, looking Ahton straight in the eye and giving a little smirk.

"Is that... khakh... all you got?" he asked, voice rasping.

The officer's face twisted apoplectically and Mart braced as the man's boot descended.

***

It ended eventually. His lip was bleeding now too, and his forehead. He was pretty sure one of the kicks had gotten a rib. His arms and legs were tingling and sore and his chest ached.

They dragged him somewhere. He was too dazed to tell at first. At some point his head stopped spinning and throbbing enough for him to get his bearings.

He was in a cleared-out storage closet. The only thing left in it was an empty mid-wall shelf.

Mart sat up and wriggled free of his binds—repair cable, as it turned out, was not effective restraining material—but didn't have the energy to do much else, so he tucked himself up under the shelf, leaning his head on the wall.

He tried to rest. It was an easier wait this time than those anxious uncertain hours in the dead YT-2400 over Mykapo. At least this time he knew rescue would be coming.

He drifted in and out for a while until a commotion caught his attention from behind the door. A muffled explosion, running and shouting, blasterfire maybe?

He grinned faintly, stretching his legs out a bit.

Voices sounded out in the hall, accompanied by a soft hum. They came rapidly down some kind of hallway and stopped in front of the door. The hum grew louder as a green blade punctured through the lock seal, and the door slid open to reveal a concerned Ezra. Just behind his shoulder stood the nervous Imperial technician, trying anxiously to peek in, and further down the hall Mart could see Zeb standing guard, bo-rifle out and covering the junction.

"You okay?" asked Ezra, coming into the room and reaching out his hand.

Mart uncurled stiffly, giving a small groan. "Everywhere hurts," he complained, grabbing onto Ezra's wrist and using the handhold to pull himself up.

"Yeah, that'll happen," Ezra quipped, smiling as he slung the other boy's arm over his shoulder to support him. "No permanent damage I hope?"

"Probably not." Mart looked past Ezra to the Imperial technician. "I'm guessing you were the inside contact Officer Budget Cuts was worried about, huh?"

She ducked her head with a shy nod.

"You should come with us," Ezra suggested.

She startled a bit at that. "Are you sure?" she asked, clear hesitation on her face.

"Our base is a bit roughshod but it's still better than this trash heap," Mart promised.

"And anyone who goes against the Empire is welcome," Ezra added. He tilted his head a bit. "What can you do?" he asked, genuinely curious.

The woman gave a chagrined grimace. "Officially my position is really just filling out experiment documentation," she confessed. "But I have a full range of combat medic training."

"Awesome. You're in, Miss...?" Ezra prompted.

"Leslynn." She extended a tentative hand out. "Would you like me to take a look at your injuries?" she offered.

Mart paid her a tired look of gratitude. "That'd be appreciated, actually." He had been half-conscious at the time but he was pretty sure the only reason Ahton had stopped was because the woman had stepped in; he remembered her voice arguing with Ahton's and after a long pause the troopers had picked him up off the floor. So he allowed her to step in and take him off Ezra's hands, gingerly aiding him as Ezra moved forward to join Zeb and clear the way.

The facility was deadly quiet; Mart was pretty sure the remaining troopers, all three of them, were lying dead in the halls somewhere. The captain was nowhere to be seen, but that was just as well.

It was a short, uneventful journey to the hanger where the Phantom II was waiting. Mart flopped into the nearest cargo seat, wincing a little as his side stung from the motion. Leaning his head back against the wall, he gave a long sigh of relief.

He really needed to stop getting left behind. At least this time it wasn't due to his own reckless stupidity. And they had done something useful, halting the lab's highly unethical genetic splicing experiments, an attempt to turn creatures into living weapons. And they had even bagged a new medic for the Rebellion.

A little bit of pain was worth that.

Leslynn dug into the shuttle's small medkit as they powered up and took off, and the aches from his injuries started to soothe as bacta was applied.

The tunnel of hyperspace soon filled the viewport, signaling that they were safe.

---

Suprise backstory for my OC Leslynn!  A little easter egg for those of you who’ve read the “Mirrorverse” series.  I saw a perfect opportunity and it just clicked, lol.

[cleanlenins]

Going Angst Week 2021

Day 3: Family/Friends

TW: Referenced Suicide, Major Character Death, Brainwashing

Read on AO3

She had been trying to fix this blaster all morning, but it seemed to resist her at every turn. When she fiddled with the trigger mechanism, the circuit board would shift and cause a misfire. When she realigned the circuit board, the blaster seemed unable to draw power from the battery. When she fixed that she realized that the trigger mechanism had stuck again. Round and round it went, unable to fix that which she was an expert in. The very thing she had designed and created. Maddie tore off her hood in frustration, running her hands through her hair. The blaster thumped against the kitchen table.

Things used to be so much easier.

She had thought that when she and Jack finally finished the Ghost Portal, everything would fall into place. They would have access to the Ghost Zone. Their research could be proven beyond question. Their inventions and patents would be given the recognition that they had dreamed of all those nights of meticulous drafting. And though much of that did happen, it had come at a cost.

Her family.

She didn't know when it had happened, but her children had started to drift away. Sure, she had not expected them to always cling to her apron strings (though every mother hopes), but this was not the sort of distance brought on by children growing up. The distance was maintained by whispered conversations and discreet glances. A distance held on a foundation of lies and subterfuge. Of secrets and conspiracy. 

Maddie wasn't stupid. She saw it. Maybe a little later than she should have. But that wasn't her fault. It was the ghosts' fault. Constantly spreading their malignant taint onto the world of the living. They had turned her life's work, her portal, against her. Using it for their own perverse ends instead of the benign purpose of scientific discovery.  Of course, the ectoplasmic scum couldn't help but turn everything they touch into a plague among the living. It was their nature. 

Phantom was no exception.

No matter what Amity Park believed, Maddie knew better. The ghost was cunning in its malevolence, but she saw through the hero act. The ghost always seemed secretive, never shouting its plans like the other spectors. Making cheeky remarks with no hint of it's ulterior motives. But in the few moments that Maddie was able to get close enough to see its face, she could see the fear of detection plain as day. Her own son had made similar expressions when caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It was a facsimile of emotion, but an understandable one. The Fenton's would never be fooled by its trickery, they knew too much for that. It had good reason to be afraid of them. 

Even more so now that she knew the truth. Her face burned as she thought about how she had been tricked, her breath catching with the fury the memory brought.

She had been hunting. Not any ghost in particular, but she searched the streets for any that had been unwise enough to cross the veil. And she clung to the shadows, she saw a bright light emit from an alley. Cautiously, she slunk to the mouth of the alley and peaked inside. She nearly dropped her ecto-blaster in shock. 

There stood her Danny. Her Danny! Laughing with his friends, and one unnatural interloper. The female Phantom hovered feet from the ground, holding its stomach in laughter. Maddie was about leap around the corner to tell it to leave her son alone when-

"As fun as it was, I think my bruises have bruises. How about next time you find a different target for practice?" Danny smirked. Smirked! As if it was nothing more than a game of tag. 

"Aw, but you make such a great target! You look so goofy when you try to dodge," The ghost said. It then pantomimed a series of poses, obviously desperate attempts to avoid the painful burn of the ghost's ectoblasts. Danny's friends laughed at the show. Maddie grit her teeth.

"So! Same time tomorrow, then? I'm only going to be in town for another few days," The Phantom said. Her Danny snorted.

"Do I have a choice? You'd hunt me down and drag me out if I tried to avoid you," Her Danny laughed, as if that wasn't the most horrifying sentence he ever spoke.

"As long as you understand that," the ghost said, snapping its fingers into a gesture her son liked to call 'finger guns'. The female Phantom shot into the sky and disappeared. Danny and his friends chatted about their newest video game, but Maddie wasn't listening. She silently ran away from the scene, mind reeling.

No wonder the other Phantom always seemed afraid of them finding out his plans. It had a right to be afraid. If the Phantoms were using her children as target practice...

Maddie stilled at the front door. She remembered all the times Danny had come home with paltry excuses for the bruises and scrapes that covered him. The blood stains on his slowly dwindling wardrobe. The times he came home, obviously favoring and arm or a leg-

Phantom was as evil as any ghost, and now she had her proof.

But first, she had to help her poor Danny. The ghosts had somehow manipulated him into thinking that their cruel abuses were a joke! A game! How he must have suffered for the amusement of the ectoplasmic-scum. 

Maddie was pulled out of her thoughts at the sound of a loud click. She looked down in her hands and saw that she had finally been able to align all the pieces correctly in the blaster. The cool metal was lit by the eerie green glow the power source gave. 

This was the gun that would end Phantom. For good.

Maddie glanced at the clock, realizing it had taken more time than she had anticipated to finish the gun. She should check on Danny. She left the blaster where it sat on the kitchen table, and walked toward the lab. Descending the stairs quietly so as to not startle Danny.

Danny still sat in place where she had left him, arms and chest bound to the chair with ghost-proof tethers (overkill, but ghost-proof was the only kind they owned). Maddie had known that whatever brainwashing her son had been subjected to by the Phantoms would not be overcome with only words. So she had asked the school to let her borrow one of the Cramtastic Mark V's they had purchased. When she mentioned she wanted to catch Danny up on his grades, they let her take him out of school for a week.

Maddie's heart ached at the memory of Danny begging her to untie him. His tears as he thrashed, pleading for her to let him out. That it was a mistake. That Phantom wasn't tricking him. That Phantom was a hero. When she pointed out his bruises, he didn't have an explanation. She wanted to weep at her son's pain and to wrap her baby boy in her arms, but she had to stay strong. Jazz would never approve of her methods, but her daughter was away at college. Jack was away at a conference. What they never knew wouldn't hurt them.

It didn't take long for Maddie to write a program for the machine. A program of how ghosts were evil, how they only wished to cause harm, how there was nothing good about them except for their value to the field of science, how they should all be eradicated on sight. However, Phantom's mind control was powerful. Even when left to the machine's power of subliminal persuasion for hours, she would come back to find Danny had come up with a counterargument to the information. Maddie would rewrite the program to refute that, but the next time she came he would have another excuse. Over and over. It had been days now. But Maddie would never give up on her family. Would never give up on her son. He could be brought back to the world or reason. Phantom would not have a hold on his mind forever.

She cautiously walked up to him. He looked rough. She felt a pang of guilt, even knowing that this wasn't her fault. He had dark circles under his eyes streaked with tears. His wrists were rubbed raw against the restraints. He looked so tired. Breaking through this mind control was so draining, but who knows how long her son had been at Phantom's mercy?

"Danny, sweetie. Have you come to your senses?" Maddie asked softly. Danny blinked blearily at her, fresh tears escaping from the corner of his eyes. She gently wiped them away, cupping Danny's cheek in her hand. He leaned into the touch, before slowly nodding.

"Okay, sweetie. I just need you to tell me. Tell me about ghosts," Maddie almost whispered, wiping more tears away. Danny closed his eyes and swallowed.

"All ghosts...are evil," he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. Maddie wanted to cry as well. Her poor baby had been through so much. But maybe it was finally over. Next she only had to get rid of the evil that had done this to him.

"That's right, sweetheart. All ghosts should be destroyed, right?" She rubbed his cheek with her thumb. He opened his eyes, pleading 

"All ghosts?" He asked, voice breaking.

"All ghosts, sweetie," Maddie said, still stroking his cheek. A sharp sob wracked his body. He nodded, more tears began to pour. Maddie felt a wet prickle in her own eyes.

"Even Phantom," Danny said. It wasn't a question, but Maddie nodded. She noticed her son's lip quiver. It hurt her so much to see him in such pain, but she knew it was for the best. She would finally have her Danny back. Phantom had lost its hold on her family.

"Especially Phantom."

Maddie turned off the program, and detached Danny from the chair and computer. He immediately latched onto her, with more strength then she thought he had. A vice-like hug that had them both collapsing into a sobbing puddle. Maddie combed through her son's hair, whispering assurances and love to him. That no evil ghost could harm him. She held him until the sobs subsided, completely exhausted he looked up at her. She guided him up the stairs and into the kitchen, having him sit in one of the chairs. She quickly made some toast, sure he would be hungry enough not to care that it was his least favorite thing to eat.

"I'm not hungry," he whispered, glancing at the fixed ecto-blaster on the table.

"You should eat, Danny. You haven't been eating much the last few days," Maddie pressed gently. Slowly, he nodded, mechanically chewing the toast. Maddie breathed a sigh of relief.

"What is that for?" he asked, nodding to the blaster.

"To get rid of Phantom, so he can't hurt anyone ever again," Maddie said. Danny nodded, still chewing the toast and staring at the blaster. He looked ready to tip over from exhaustion any second. Maddie could not wait to get her revenge for what her baby had been through. She itched to start hunting the Ghost Boy. She stood.

"When you're finished, why don't you go up to your room and rest? You've been through a lot these past few days," Maddie said, walking over and stroking his hair. He nodded, before leaning into her and hugging her once more.

"I love you, Mom," he said. She held him close.

"I love you too, sweetie," Maddie said, kissing his hair. She walked away and then down into the lab. She began gathering the equipment she needed to find Phantom. The Fenton Finder, the Fenton Nets, anything she could use to take that filth down. She stacked it all in her arms and headed upstairs. Danny had already left the kitchen, so she sat her tools on the table to better organize them. Putting each in place on her belt, and wrapping them into newly made holsters around her chest. 

She frowned when she set the last object in place. The blaster she had left on the table, repaired only half an hour ago, was missing.

Bang! She flinched at the noise, coming from upstairs. She was all to familiar with that sound.

"Danny?" She cried before rushing toward her son's room.

[madmiriam]

New Rexsoka fanfic idea: Pocahontas/Star Wars AU

OK so.. The basic principle is, this story will follow the plot of Disney's Pocahontas (yes I am aware that this movie is very controversial these days, what with the racial stereotypes and blatant disregard for historical accuracy. However I shall always have a place in my heart for this movie and the joy it gave me as a child, plos no need to go for historical accuracy with star wars 😁) but while using the characters from star wars the clone wars. In this AU the native Americans will be the Jedi living in peace on the planet/system Dagobah. And the English vagina company will be the clones, who are being "led" by empor Palpatine, in search or gold and a place for the clones to settle. So basically the jedi never joined the Republic and chose to live a life of peace on a planet that had yet to be decovered by others. There for leaving the said Republic now empire, to consider them to be nothing but primative "Savages" as they know nothing of the jedi exsept for what the Chancellor/emperor (secret sith Lord) has told them. The clones are slightly more indifferent. They just want to find a planet they can settle down on, as the war they were made for is now over. But at the same time they to only know what the emperor has told them.

Character list:

Ahsoka as pocahontas

Rex as John Smith

Palpatine as governor Radcliffe

Anakin as Chief Powhatan

Obiwan Kanobi as Kekata

Yoda as grandmother willow 😂

Barise Offee as Nakoma

Lux Bonteri as kocoum

Tup as Thomas

Fives and Echo as Ben and Lon

Tarkin as Wiggins (cus he's a suck up and I want to humiliat him)

So the clones of coruscant are on an expedition to find gold, crystals and other pressures metals, and create a new clone settlement on the new found planet in the Dagobah system. A planet inhabited by the mysterious jedi. They are being led by the greedy emperor Palpatine. (we're gonna protend Palps does more than just sits in his swivel chair drumming his fingers together, while cackling maniacally) though most of the leading is deing done by the clone Captain Rex, who is exsited to explore the new world.

The jedi, who are currently being led by the chosen one Anakin Skywalker. (who with the help of his old master and adviser Obiwan Kanobi, manged to abolish the old ban on attachments) who is grieving for the death of his late wife Padme who died a year prior. All he has left of her, is his children, Luke, Leia and padawan Ahsoka Tano, who Padme and he considered as their first child.

As an alliance plan for their nabouring temple, Anakin wants to marry Ahsoka to the non force sensative son of the grandmaster of the said temple, Lux Bonteri. Ahsoka, who is a free spirited young woman, isn't so sure of the match. Lux had once been a good childhood friend of hers but since the death of his mother (who had been great friends with Padme) they had both grown apart and he had become far more serious and stoic than he once was. (I know this is a bit out of character for Lux, but in all honesty the only character that seemed to fit Kocoum character was Mace Windu, and that just didn't scene right to even surgest that Ahsoka marry Windu...soooo.....Sorry Windu)

As a gift Anakin give Ahsoka the necklace he had carved Padme when they had meet, saying it was Padme's dream to see Ahsoka wear it at her own wedding.

Ahsoka, still in two minds about this arrangement, goes to visit her Great great (bout 3-4 greats) grandmaster Yoda who lives as a hermit in the hollow of a willow tree. Telling him of her troubles. Together they meditate on it, and the Forse tells them something is come. Opon hearing this, Ahsoka climbs Yoda's tree and looks up at the sky, only to see ships coming down from the sky (it had been generations since anyone had come to or left the planet, so ahsoka has never seen a battle ship before)

Opon arriving on the new planet, the clones are ordered to start digging for treasure strait away. Captain Rex on the other hand choses to (scout the terrain) explore the new land.

Whilst exploring, Rex then comes across Ahsoka. At first he hides behind a water fall, ready to Shoot at the "savage" jedi before they can attack him, but is shocked to see a beautiful young Togrutan woman, insted of the deadly force welding witch that he had been exsepting. After a while of just staring at each other, Rex puts away his DCs and slowly trys to make his way towards her. Ahsoka on the other hand is having non of it and choses to run away from the strange hardskinned (she's refusing to his armour) man. At which point he gives chase, wanting to know more about, the strange jedi woman.

After a breaf differculty with the language barrier (the force helps them understand one another. I know, I never got that bit of the movie eather) and an unfortunate chose of words on Rex's part, that courses Ahsoka great offence on behalf of herself and her people, Ahsoka goes one to showing Rex the ways of the galaxy though the jedi's point of view.

Meanwhile, the other jedi after a deadly encounter with the clone army, are now even more weary off their arrival. After meditating with the council on this, Anakin choses to forbid anyone from going near the new settlement until they know more about the visiters. Calls upon the other jedi temples to lend aid should, the worst come to the worst.

Ahsoka and Rex continue to meet up in secret graduly developing feelings for each other. Ahsoka eventually introduces Rex to Yoda, who fermly believes them to be the key to developing peace between the jedi and the rest of the galaxy.

They chose to go to Ahsoka's master to talk about a peace treaty. Unfortunately unbeknownst to them they are being watched, by both Lux and Tup. When seeing Rex and Ahsoka kiss, Lux flys into a jealous rage and attacks Rex. Tup seeing the "jedi savage" attack his big bother rases his blaster and shots Lux dead. Horrified Rex tells Tup to run as the jedi come down on them, having heird the blaster shot. Thinking it was Rex who killed Lux, they tear him away from Ahsoka and take him away to Aniken, who sentences rex to death at dawn the next day, declering war on the clones.

Ahsoka's friend Barise, when seeing how upset Ahsoka was, manges to get ahsoka and rex time to say goodbye. Where they admit their feelings for each other.

Tup meanwhile, runs back to the other clones and tells them about the attack and how Rex was going to be killed if they didn't do something. Overhearing this, Palpatine choses this moment to rally the men into, marching on the jedi. (just as he had been planing all along)

Ahsoka goes to Yoda in greaf. Not knowing what to do. With his help, she finds the strength to run and try and stop the fighting.

The jedi drag Rex up onto a stone atop of a cliff, preparing him for exicution. And the clones march towards them to attack. Anakin rases his lightsaber ready to bring it down on Rex's head, only to stop midway when Ahsoka charges forth and throws herself on Rex, shielding him from harm. Ahsoka tells her master if he wants to kill Rex, he'll have to kill her too. Gives a heartfelt speach about peace and understanding. When seeing the love she had for the clone in her eyes, love that he had once seen in Padme's eyes for him, this moves Aniken to release Rex, stating that if there was to be more killing it would not start with the jedi.

Palpatine trys to rally the clones to attack, but after see what the jedi girl did to protect their bother, they refuse. Outraged, the emperor force pushes the clones aside, leaps onto to cliff, pulls out his own blood red saber and goes to stab Anakin in the back with it. But Rex seeing this come, pushed Aniken out of the way, getting stabbed in the side him self.

With the combined force of both the clones and the jedi, they kill Palpatine, riding the galaxy of the last known sith lord. Rex now fatality injured now lying in the arms of his jedi, surrounded by brothers, he trys to say goodbye, but fall short when, darkens overtakes him.

Ahsoka refusing to exsept this, uses to the Forse to heal him. Aniken and Obiwan try talking her out of it, saying she would die if she didn't stop, but she refuses, saying she'd rather die than live without him. She falls unconscious as rex wakes up. Upon seeing what she had done for him, Rex holds Ahsoka, beging her not to leave him. Obiwan tells him he needs to take her to the temple to bask in the force for her to survive. He cares her all the way there, refusing to let anyone else take her form him. He lays with her in the temple, whilst the other jedi, pray to the force to revive her. And as they do this, the clone army, position themselves on guard outside the temple, ready to diffend it if need be.

Ahsoka eventually wakes up, much the the relief of her family and celebrations of the clones. Both she and Rex are married that same day, and the clones are all welcomed as family. This was now their home for as long as they wanted it.

So what do you guys think, would this be a fanfiction you'd want to read, or should I just leave it at this? Let me know. And if you have any ideas let me know xxxxxx

[generallynerdy]

I wonder if he can taste the sadness (Ahsoka Tano & Anakin Skywalker & Rex)

Summary: Ahsoka motions for the younglings to stay behind what little cover she was able to provide as the door wheezes open. She pokes her head out just enough to see and— “Master!” she cries, leaping up. Anakin is at the door, his lightsaber in his hand but unlit. He looks mildly surprised to see her, but takes her hug without hesitation. “Thank the Force,” she breathes out. “We heard blasters and then Master Nu told us to hide. What’s happening?” In her embrace, Anakin is unmoved. She frowns, looking up at him. “Master?”

Warnings: major character death, lightsaber wounds, lots of children die but only one is shown, canon genocide, canon divergence but only to make it sadder Word Count: 1,826

Prompt: Angstpril Day 4 - Betrayal

Author’s Note: WOWWW why do I do this to myself lmfao. I was like ‘oh hey what if Ahsoka was in the Temple during Order 66 would that suck or what’ and then I. Wrote it. For some reason. I’m sick and twisted. Also, not to make you sadder or anything, but can you imagine Obi-Wan finding her body? Shit dude. Anyway, you might think Anakin wouldn’t go to the dark side if the whole Ahsoka thing hadn’t happened, but, like...he already murdered a village of Tuskens before the Clone Wars. I do not doubt that it would’ve happened somehow. I know this is super late but I wanna get all my Angstpril stuff written down no matter how late it is or else I’m gonna feel terrible about it. Title is from My Mother, My Mother by Luther Hughes. (Also, Jinnel, the Kiffar, and her future Master are my ocs. Zett is a canon character but he has barely any appearances so, uh, dibs.)

Read on AO3

*

“Master Nu! I was just looking for you in the archives.”

Ahsoka bears a wide smile as the old Master of the archives turns to her. The young Padawan, though not so young now she thinks, bears a couple of datapads, old ones she’d borrowed before her last assignment.

“Ah, Padawan Tano. Apologies, but I’m a bit occupied at the moment.”

She gestures behind her, where a youngling Clan chatters excitedly. At the sight of Ahsoka, one Nautolan girl lights up and turns to her friend, whispering furiously.

Ahsoka smiles and waves a little, getting a few waves back. “Sorry, Master, I didn’t realise. I can come back later,” she offers.

“That’s quite alright.” Master Nu waves her off. “Just leave it on my desk, and I—”

She stops. Her gaze drifts to the far end of the hallway, but when Ahsoka follows it, she finds nothing there. She’s about to ask what’s wrong, but then she feels it, too: a roil of darkness and fear.

“What is that?” she whispers, unmoving.

The younglings finally notice, a long moment after their seniors, and begin speaking frantically.

“Is the Temple under attack?”

“What do we do, Master Nu?”

“What’s happening?”

“I have to go find my Master!”

With a raised hand, Master Nu silences them all. “Quiet.” Quickly glancing around, she spots a meditation room with an open door. “Quickly, into the meditation room. Padawan Tano, watch our backs.”

“Yes, Master.”

The younglings file into the room obediently, still whispering to one another. One girl, a young Kiffar, bursts into tears, so Ahsoka pulls her aside immediately.

“My Master left to go to the Senate Building,” the Initiate blubbers. “She doesn’t know we’re in danger! I have to find her!”

(She’s too young to have a Master, Ahsoka realises, and doesn’t have a Padawan braid. The Master must’ve found her on a Search and bonded with her.)

“See if you can contact her on your comm, but you need to stay here until we know what’s going on, okay?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t leave her!”

“I understand. My Master is out there somewhere, too,” Ahsoka tries to reassure. “But I can’t let you leave alone, either. As soon as it’s safe, we’ll go find her together.”

The Initiate wipes at her eyes and nods, following the rest of her clan into the meditation room. Ahsoka looks back to Master Nu, who is glancing down the hall with wide, horrified eyes. Something has pulled in the Force.

Someone skids to a stop around the corner.

It’s a young human boy, a Padawan that Ahsoka has seen trailing behind Master Drallig for the last few weeks. On his sleeve, a scorch mark has burned through the fabric to his skin: a blaster wound.

At the sight of Master Nu and Ahsoka, his face twists in relief and he runs toward them.

“Zett,” Master Nu breathes out, taking his arm as soon as he’s close. “What’s going on?”

Through panting breaths, he speaks the impossible. “The clones—the clones are killing us!” he cries. “They got Master Drallig and I can’t find the Council—”

“What?” Ahsoka questions fiercely. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you won’t believe me, but I really saw it! It’s the 501st, they have their armour and everything and they’re killing everybody—!”

Master Nu squeezes his uninjured shoulder. “Breathe, Padawan. I believe you.”

“What!?” Ahsoka turns on her. “They would never—!”

“It may be someone else in that armour, but you know he’s telling the truth, Ahsoka. You can feel it,” she says warningly. “Don’t let emotion cloud your instincts.”

She backs down, but her chest tightens. “Yes, Master,” she says quickly.

“How many of them are there?”

“All of them. Master Drallig—” Zett chokes on his name. “—he told me to go to the landing pad, to get out and find help.”

“I’ll go with you!”

Ahsoka jumps when the young Kiffar reappears, running up to Zett.

“I’m a good tracker,” she says quickly, “and I know where my Master’s going! We can find her!”

Zett looks to Master Nu at the same time she does, uncertainty in his bright eyes. The old archivist casts her gaze to the end of the hall, where the chaos is starting to get louder. With a deep breath, she kneels before the younglings, a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Do not stop, especially for anyone in clone armour. Don’t trust anyone you don’t recognise and whatever you do, do not return to the Temple until you are given the all-clear, do you understand?” When they both nod, she reaches for their hands and presses them together, letting Zett take the girl’s. Master Nu gives him a firm look. “Hold onto each other. Do not let go. This is not a game.”

“Yes, Master,” they say at the same time, equally shaky.

She stands. “Go.”

The pair run off, Zett tugging the Kiffar girl closer to him as they dash down the hall. Ahsoka watches them go, waiting until they’re around the corner to turn her attention back to Master Nu, who has apparently done the same. Before she can speak, the archivist puts a hand on her shoulder as well.

“Stay with the younglings. Lock the door behind you and defend them with your life,” she instructs.

The girl’s eyes widen. “What? You’re leaving?”

“If the Temple is being attacked, there are things I have to do,” is her grim reply. “No one can get their hands on the archives, Padawan, no one. I’ll come find you when I get the chance.”

If I get the chance. The thought is there, though unspoken.

Steeling herself, Ahsoka swallows roughly but nods. “Yes, Master.”

With a glance over the Padawan’s shoulder, Master Nu lowers her voice. “Above all, make sure they make it out.”

“May the Force be with you,” she says quietly, a hope more than a comfort.

Master Nu smiles, a little sad, a little proud. “It is always with us, Ahsoka. It is always with you. Be brave.”

Her words echo in the young Togruta’s mind even as she departs. When she finally pulls herself together, she rushes into the meditation room, counting heads and closing the door behind her. She enters a code to lock it down completely before turning back to her charges.

“I need you all to listen carefully and do exactly as I say, okay?”

There are scattered nods and ‘yes, Padawan Tano’s, so she gives out instructions.

They build barricades throughout the room, providing cover for themselves. Initiates with lightsabers pair up with those without and the latter group gets a few weapons from Ahsoka. Her clone troopers—the ones killing Jedi—gave her quite a few vibroblades and pocket blasters over the years and she’s kept them all. It’s more than a little useful right now, she thinks as she hands them to the younglings.

“Keep your heads down and trust in the Force,” Ahsoka orders, ducking behind a gathering of meditation chairs and tables with three Initiates. She places a hand on the shoulder of the youngest, a small Mirialan with teary eyes. “It’s going to be okay.”

Footsteps thunder from the hallway outside. The younglings fall silent in an instant, poised for battle.

Something catches in Ahsoka’s chest. They’re ready for this. They’re children and terrified but they’re ready for a fight. Is this what her Master used to feel when he looked at her, 14 standard and standing on the front lines? Like something was desperately wrong with this picture?

“The scanners indicate life forms in this room, sir.”

Ahsoka freezes.

It sounds like a clone, though she can't place who. Could Zett have been right? Are the clones—the 501st, of all battalions—turning against them? What in the Force would make them do that? Something here is horribly, horribly wrong.

There's some beeping on the other side of the wall and someone out there must have the codes, because the door starts to slide open.

Ahsoka motions for the younglings to stay behind what little cover she was able to provide as the door wheezes open. She pokes her head out just enough to see and—

“Master!” she cries, leaping up.

Anakin is at the door, his lightsaber in his hand but unlit. He looks mildly surprised to see her, but takes her hug without hesitation.

“Thank the Force,” she breathes out. “We heard blasters and then Master Nu told us to hide. What’s happening?”

In her embrace, Anakin is unmoved.

She frowns, looking up at him. “Master?”

Light washes over her, the stark blue of his lightsaber being lit. She glances down to get a look at where he’s pointing it, what he could possibly be defending her from in a room of younglings. But then pain strikes her abdomen, squeezing her lungs. A choked gasp drags itself from her lips and she finally sees it.

The saber in her chest. Anakin’s saber in her chest.

A youngling screams and blaster fire echoes throughout the room, but Ahsoka can’t see what happens. She can’t even cry out for the Initiates she was meant to protect. All she can do is look back up at him.

His expression is blank, untouched by her apparent agony. He stares down at her with those yellow eyes—

Yellow eyes?

Her mouth falls open a little, her legs wobbling. She loses her balance, falling into him. And he catches her. There isn’t any sort of purpose to the movement, but he catches her.

He has yellow eyes.

Ahsoka thinks of Dooku, of his last moments spent glaring at her and her Master, those burning yellow eyes. She thinks of his red lightsaber fitting perfectly into Anakin’s hand and how nauseous she’d become at the sight.

“Anakin?”

It’s weak, hardly there. She doesn’t even know if he hears it.

And then she’s falling, falling to the floor. He drops her, lets her crumble underneath him, unable to hold herself up.

He walks away.

Breathing raggedly, Ahsoka wants to reach out, wants to grab the bottom of his robe before he can leave her. But her hands won’t cooperate, her entire body screaming at the scorched wound she bears.

The meditation room has fallen silent, leaving the troopers to follow after Anakin. They start to leave, but one notices she’s still breathing, still trying to move.

He lifts his blaster and she finally sees him.

“Rex,” she breathes out.

The jaig eyes on his helmet, carefully painted, give him away instantly. He lifts his pistols and she wants to cry. She doesn’t have the strength for even that. But she doesn’t need any strength to see that his hands are shaking. Ahsoka will never know what’s going on in his head, what’s driving him to lift his blasters in her direction. All she knows is that his hands are shaking.

“It’s okay, Rex,” she says, sounding far from it. “It’s okay.”

He fires.

*

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Reblogs are better than likes and deeply appreciated!

If you tag this as an Ahsoka ship, I will block you so fast.

Masterlist

[limeyartspinningtales]

Imagine....a game of cat and mouse

Characters: Cad Bane, gn!reader

(can be read as platonic or romantic, reader’s choice)

---

The market-space is rammed full of sound, smell, stalls and, most importantly, people. Dim broken lamps are scattered between the bright white spotlights that cast the constantly moving area into roiling shadows and gleaming reflections from metal and glass, like some backwater ocean. Voices try to clamor out, clambering over each other in a constantly failing race to be the loudest and brash and inviting and come buy, come sell, come listen, listen to me.

You try to block it out as best you can. It’s difficult, understandably. But you have more on your hands than trying not to go mad from the din. Looking over the mug of caf in your hands, you catch sight of a glimpse of blue among the red, green, brown, and gunmetal grey. As you follow the movement, that blue clarifies itself into a face underneath a wide-brimmed hat, with a pair of narrowed red eyes.

Your target had arrived.

Getting up from your seat, you push a couple of credits over the table to the stall-owner for your drink and start to wander into the crowd, making a general direction for the bounty hunter. Cad Bane seems to not be in too much of a hurry, drifting from stall to stall himself. It makes it tricky for you to not make it obvious about your approach. Your own voice rolls back over itself in your head, chastising your haste and reminding you: patience was key here as much as perception was. The crowds themselves aren’t making that easy for you. With half of your attention given to Cad, the other half is spent on making sure you weren’t accidentally swept away by an eager group or that you didn’t end up in the pathway of someone with a disgruntled face and a blaster. With this particular market-space, you aren’t willing to put it past someone to start a fight over literally anything.

Your target pauses, and you step quietly into the small path between a couple of stalls. You swear you can’t have been got already, not so soon. You know Cad’s good, but this good? Five seconds pass, and you step back out, looking to anyone else like you were coming from that direction onto the main walkway. It takes you a cursory glance around for you to see Cad engaged in conversation with a food seller, handing over credits for something wrapped up in foil that he pockets. He doesn’t look around, instead continuing on his way, and you release a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. Of course he hadn’t spotted you, only stopping to get food. 

Up ahead, Cad now stops by a stall that seemed to be advertising scavenged parts, looking over the items within. You take the chance to duck back into cover of a different stall, trying to appear curious about the wooden carvings but mostly flicking gazes over to Cad’s stall.

For a moment, you think you caught his eye and your heart squeezes itself up in your throat. But it’s just his reflection in a metal panel. You watch as he shakes his head, dropping the part he was turning over in his hands back onto the table, and returns to the milling streams of people. After a couple of seconds you do the same, ducking your head as you step back onto the walkway. A pair of ithorians deep in a strongly-worded debate step up too close for comfort, causing you to duck and weave away. You’ve been knocked into enough times today, you don’t want that count to increase any time soon for fear of a pickpocket. Some hovercart comes whirring past, nudging you off your path once more as a number of others voice their irritation to the droid driving the vehicle. Biting back your own grumble, you glance back over to Cad.

Where Cad should be.

The path ahead of you is crammed with people, but none of them are the blue-skinned durosian you’ve been trailing so far. Someone knocks into your shoulder, and the harsh contact jolts you from the panicked state your mind had frozen up in, reminding you where you are still. It’s difficult to return back to the meandering walk you’d put yourself into when you first started this hunt, seeing as how now you no longer have a destination. You keep looking around as you wander, trying to catch sight of your target, but to no avail it seems.

Wait. No. It takes you a moment to replay the moment, but you swear as you pass by a stall with many hanging glass ornaments, multi-colored reflections of your face glinting back at you when you look over them.....there’s a moment of that strange gut-twist that comes when you make eye contact with someone by accident. You keep going. Another stall hawks its wares of scarfs and shawls, many of them thick and meant for the open road but a few with fine detailing in the stitching along the edges. You step inside the stall space, picking up a scarf of dusty green by with light blue embroidery, and spot a mirror to examine yourself as you try it on. And in the mirror, you look beyond yourself and into the crowd.

Red eyes.

This time it’s not just your heart trying to get out through your throat, it’s most of your digestive system. You congratulate yourself on your poker face as you hand the scarf back, promising to think more on it (you won’t) and that you’ll come back later (maybe). Heading back out, now you spot the nearest and thickest crowd of people, and you beeline for that crowd. It’s hard work to slip among the ranks but you make do, waiting until you’ve reached the other side before speeding up your pace. No running yet, just a faster walk. Part of your brain thinks he’s breathing down your neck and as your back prickles with discomfort, you snatch a look over your shoulder. No sign of Cad. That makes the prickling feel even worse. The market-space around you seems to swell and boom, the noise rushing into your head, too loud all of a sudden. There’s too many people and too many places where the bounty hunter could be hiding, and you need a place that you know it’s only you alone. 

Reprise comes in the form of a partially shaded alleyway, which you find it easy to slip into and find some distance between yourself and the market-space. Compared to the din before, the silence here echoes. Your breath comes back slowly as you squeeze your hand to your forehead, finding sweat beading there. Not successful, not at all. You’d lost your target and no doubt alerted him that someone was trailing him. It’d be harder to find him.

“Nice try, kiddo.” The drawl snaps your attention up, shortly before a hand lands on your shoulder and squeezes uncomfortably tight. You don’t know how Cad had managed to approach so quietly, but in the time where you’d been finding your breath and feet again, he’d approached you in the same alleyway and now he continues to push you further out of sight from the crowds. The telltale bounty hunter smell of blaster oil, leather and iron rolls off him at this distance. Finally he stops, shoving you up at the wall. In the moment, your voice freezes up too, and with the silence his hand traces up to your face, cupping your chin before patting your cheek.

“Don’t know why I keep teaching you to track when you turn into a paranoid kath hound every time you loose your target,” Cad says.

“I was not that bad,” you reply, a pout on the edge of your voice as you bat his hand away. It’s taken you a while to reach this level of comfort when interacting with him. Apprenticing for the famously deadly bounty hunter doesn’t come lightly after all. “When did you spot me?”

“Around the scrap stall. You kept looking over one too many times, caught you then.” Digging into his coat, he hands over the foil-wrapped packet, and the smell of food wipes away any lingering dismay you had left. While you start to dig in, he watches the market-space from where you both lean against the wall.

“Finish up and get ready to go again,” he tells you. “Next time I won’t be so easy on you.” And neither would you, you tell yourself.

[detroitbydark]

Fox and Mouse Finale 2/2

Chapter 14

Part 1/2 can be found here

Characters: Commander Fox x Mouse (reader), and more Jedi/clones/politicians than you can shake a stick at.

Summary: Yearning and Fluff and SMUT! Oh my! 

Rated: M 18+

A/N: Ladies and Lads this is it! A chapter so stupid long it required it be split in two pieces. I'm not going to make you wait and I'll be posting both this evening. I'm feeling really sentimental because this is the longest thing I've ever written and completed. I couldn't have done it without y’all. Your support and comments have helped me get through the tough periods of writing and the stress in my life as of late. This is for you guys! Thank you. I love you!

Special thanks as always to @skdubbs and @crimson-dxwn for being there to listen to me and help me every step of the way. You are both absolutely amazing!

------------------------

Fox’s head is reeling, but he feels like he’s holding it together well. He’s pretty sure she can’t feel the shaking in his hand as she takes it and drags him to his feet. Her smile is soft and comforting. It’s home. Mouse is home.

His bucket is left on to rest on the blanket as she leads him through the grass. Wildflowers press into the plates of his armor, leaving yellow smears of pollen in their wake. Mouse looks over her shoulder as they go. Fox wonders if she feels the same way he does, like this is all a dream that will be over the second he wakes. That he’s desperate to stay under its sway just a little while longer.

“Come on Al’verde,” she teases, “I feel like I’m dragging a ton of duracrete. Pick up your feet.”

Fox yanks her hand and she stumbles back toward him, hands colliding with his chest as she breaks into a fit of laughter so honeyed and sweet it would make the bees jealous. She rolls up onto the balls of her feet and kisses his chin, then the tip of his nose. If the boys could see him now, grinning down at her like a fool in love, like a man who didn’t have the weight of a thousand suns on his shoulders.

“Stop trying to distract me. I told you I want to show you something,” she says, pulling away before he can get his lips on hers.

She leads him toward the small pool of water he’d passed coming to find her, where twin waterfalls keep the water bubbling and a fine mist of droplets in the air. They cling to her hair and weigh down the thin fabric of her dress, highlighting the soft curves he was denying himself.

“Where are you taking me, little Mouse?”

She doesn’t answer, instead flashing that enigmatic smile again and leading him to a rock wall that shot up suddenly from green pasture and up into the sky. The sound of water is loud, not quite deafening but definitely distracting. Mouse lets loose his hand and slips in between a gap in the slab wall. He is a far bigger fan of his cyar’ika than he is of tight spaces, but it still gives him a moment's hesitation, finally broken by her teasing voice calling his name.

It’s dark, damp with moisture clinging to the walls that press in on him, but again, before they begin to close in around him, he hears her voice call to him and he follows it like a beacon. In reality the passage is short and opens quickly into a larger cavity. Light spills in and his eyes have barely adjusted before Mouse is pressing into him. Fox stumbles back a half step and laughs as he leans down, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. Mouse rests her head against his shoulder as he takes in his surroundings.

“I found it my first week here” she says softly. He nearly doesn’t hear her over the sound of rushing water. It wasn’t a true cave so much as it was an alcove behind one of the twin falls. “The flow has eased off as the rains have. When I first came I couldn’t even hear myself think. I think maybe that’s what I liked about it.”

Fox knows the feeling well, remembers throwing himself into his work to try to forget.

“Did it help?” Work hadn’t helped for him, nor had sparring with Hound, hitting the blaster range with Ryk, or any of the other half dozen things he’d done to push thoughts of her away.

Mouse offers him a sad smile before turning and walking toward the edge of the cave and reaching out letting water splash over her finger tips. “No.”

He can’t hold her gaze. Instead his eyes rove, search for something to focus on other than her and the feeling of failure that wells up on him. Mouse hadn’t been the only explorer to find the secret cave. Names are etched into the rock walls. Sets of initials added together, hearts and promises and small bits of flowery poetry of different ages. Generation upon generation of infatuations, puppy loves, lust, and tenderness written into stone for all eternity.

“Fox? You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”

The nearness to the falls has only made the cling of fabric to her skin worse. The pale blue is nearly sheer in parts and Fox tries not to focus on the way it sticks to her legs, outlines their shape. “Do what?”

“Feeling bad for me? Feeling bad for you? Take your pick.” Her voice is teasing but her eyes belay the seriousness underlying her words. “Don’t. It’s as easy as that, right? Just stop.” She beckons him with a small wave of her fingers.

“Come here so I can show you what’s so special.”

Fox closes the distance between them as she turns back to the rushing water. His body slots in behind hers. His hands circle her hips and he frowns again at just how much weight she lost.

Her fingers, cooled by the running water, reach back over her shoulder and cup his cheek. “I know it’s hard,” she says, all teasing gone, “but we’re going to do this together.”

“Communication,” he whispers quietly. “It’s important,” he clarifies. Mouse nods, her head falling back to rest against his chest.

“I’m going to communicate this then -I don’t now, nor have I ever blamed you for what has transpired. You’re no more at fault than I am.”

“But you’re not at fau-“ he stops abruptly. “I see what you're saying, but it’s easier to say than to believe.”

“Fake it until you make it.”

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh working its way past his lips before he leans forward and kisses the hair at the top of her head.

“That easy?”

“Was anything worth it ever easy?” she asks softly.

The simple answer was no. It all took work. It had taken nearly a year for him to kiss her for the first time, hadn't it?

“Fake it ‘til I make it,” he repeats, and he can feel as much as he can hear the contented hum she makes.

“Exactly. Now, what time have you got?” The sudden change of subject has him raising a brow and his vambrace up to look at the built in chrono. He rattles off the time and she makes another contented sound.

“Perfect timing. Now watch.” She stares out into the falling water. He’s nearly ready to ask what he’s watching for when a change in the light hits the droplets just right. Rainbows are thrown across the inside of the cave. Some steady, like the continuous fall of water, some here and gone as the stream is broken. He’s never seen anything like it. It’s stunning. Mouse leans back into his chest. The armor isn't comfortable to rest on but it doesn’t seem to bother her. He wishes it wasn’t between them.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

It is.

A small laugh bubbles from her lips as she turns and her fingers trace the strays colors flickering at his temple. One hand rests over his heart. She’s happy and in his arms and the moment is perfect.

“Marry me.”

The words slip from his lips faster than credits from a gamblers hands on Canto Bight.

Mouse startles, pulls back and then her foot is coming out from under her and her arms go to grabbing, finding purchase on one of his. Her weight, however slight, combined with his surprise are enough to drag him forward with her as the pair falls through the rushing water and immediately into the pool below.

Mouse comes up laughing and sputtering. Her teeth set to chattering almost instantly. Fox doesn’t find it nearly as funny, even less so when Mouse’s eyes fall on him and peals of laughter escape her til she can barely breathe. He’s cold and he can’t believe he asked that question.

“You look like an angry tooka!” she barely manages to get out as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m all wet.”

Mouse rises to her feet. The pool is shallow and only comes up to her hips. Her dress has gone sheer and leaves nothing to the imagination as she splashes water at her grumpy paramour. “So am I.”

His hair hangs nearly to his brows, pasted down against his forehead. Mouse squeals as his eyes narrow and he lunges for her. She barely gets away from his first attempt, but is far to slow for his second. He hauls her into his arms and holds her close.

“Gotcha.”

Mouse squirms and laughs in his grip but she isn’t really trying to get away. She only manages to give him a better look at the curve of her breasts and the pale shadow of peaked nipples through it.

“Don’t do it,” she warns.

Fox smiles, aiming for innocence but failing miserably. “Do what? Do…. this?”

He falls back, dragging her with him into the cold clear pool. Water clings to her lashes as they both come up gasping and laughing. He nearly apologizes but Mouse’s lips are on his, her hands at either side of his head.

Where her lips are cold, her tongue is warm and welcome as it strokes along his own. Suddenly the water doesn’t seem so cold, his soaked blacks underneath the layer of composite armor doesn’t chafe so much. It’s easy to forget the world exists outside of the pair of them and the soft sounds she’s making at the back of her throat and the equally needy moans she’s pulling from him.

He buries his face in her neck when she pulls back, nipping and sucking to reacquaint himself with all the sweet spots and equally enticing sounds they produced.

“Are we going to do this here?” She pants out his question from earlier. The want in her voice mirrors the one he felt.

“Kriff…” He manages to drag his mouth away from her wet skin. One arm around her waist secures her to him as he lets the rest of her body slide back into the water. He chuckles at her hiss as the cold envelopes her again.

“Ok. New plan-“

“Your room or mine?”

————

There’s going to be tiny puddles of water leading from the garden all the way up to the guest rooms. Mouse can look behind them and see them forming, falling between Fox’s armor and skin. They get particularly bad every so often. Like now, where the urge has overwhelmed one or both. Fox has her back pressed firmly against the wall, a tapestry on either side of them whose beauty is going completely unrecognized as she hikes a leg up over and around his hip. Fox’s mouth is fused to hers as a free hand massages her breast through the damp fabric.

“Going to make you scream my name.” Fox comes up for air, pressing his forehead into hers as they both pant. She squirms against him seeking friction that will ease the building tension.

Neither of them sees the Chancellor until he is clearing his throat.

“Well, it’s good to see that you two have made your amends.” She can feel Fox’s spine go rigid as her leg falls. He puts only a hair's breadth of space between them, stepping slightly between her and Bail Organa.

“Sir, I was just showing the lady back to her quarters.”

Mouse stifles a laugh, and Chancellor Organa seems to be holding back one of his own. Mouse presses into Fox’s back and peers around to the Chancellor.

“We’ve been having a very heated discussion on the personhood bill, Chancellor.” She offers.

Fox glances back at her with a filthy smile. “Very heated sir. It may take us the rest of the day to come to terms with it.” He glances back at the Chancellor and Mouse notes, not for the first time, the friendship that has blossomed between the two. He’d never been so relaxed when talking about Palp- He’d never dared an ounce of impropriety before but now he was blatantly flaunting his highly inappropriate relationship without the least hint of shame.

Bail let’s his eyes roam between the pair for half a second, “As you were Commander, who am I to get in the way of aggressive negotiations? I expect a full report at breakfast tomorrow.”

Fox bites back a smile. “Breakfast will be fine sir though my report may be heavily redacted.”

Bail shakes his head with a laugh, finally giving in. “So be it.” He takes a half a step to move past them before stopping. “I would take the back way upstairs. Your vode and their generals are having an impromptu Sabaac tournament in the parlor and you won’t get away from them as easily as you will from me.” Fox nods.

“Also Commander?”

Fox cocks his head in question.

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Bail gives his pauldron a quick pat as he walks by. Mouse watches as the Chancellor moves down the hall without a look back. When her eyes do move back to the man in front of her, a new heat is burning in his eyes. She stifles a laugh as he scoops her up.

“You're taking far too much time cyar’ika.”

Mouse finally does laugh as she points in the direction of the back stairs. “Me? I believe it was you who said this seemed like as good a spot as any.” She pitches her voice low in mockery of his own.

“You do a horrible impression,” he mutters, taking the steps two at a time. He’s not even breathing heavy by the time he reaches his room and eases them through the door.

Mouse’s feet have barely hit the floor before she starts helping pull off bits of armor. His bucket, attached to his belt for safekeeping, is carefully shucked into the small corner table as a pile of drippy plastoid begins to take shape on the floor. When he’s down to just his clinging Blacks he moves on her.

“You have too much on.”

Mouse grins as she bends, grips the hem of the dress, before pulling it up and over her head. She tosses it lazily to the side.

“Still too much,” he says slowly, as his eyes rove over her. Mouse laughs as he closes the space between them.

“I’ve got panties on Fox. That’s it.” She makes a small surprised sound as he drops to his knees in front of her. A surge of excitement catches her off guard as Fox’s hands grip her hips and pull her body close. She can feel the scratchy stubble along his chin as he nuzzles at the small dip where her thigh meets her hip.

“Still too much.”

He’s looking up the line of her body and Mouse feels something like power flowing through her as he leans in and places a soft kiss over her hip bone. His thumbs hook in the band of her simple panties and push them down over her sex, below her knees, to her feet where he gently encourages her to step out of them.

“Better?” He’s barely touched her but she already feels breathless.

He leans in, rests his head against the flat plain of her stomach, his warm breath tickles as his hand strokes up and down her thighs. “Yes. Much.”

A glint of silver flashes at his temple as Mouse brings her hand to stroke through his hair. Fox’s eyes slip shut. All the rush to arrive has led to this, a serene moment. A moment that leaves Mouse feeling more connected to him than any kiss on their way back to the estate.

“I see you have a perfectly lovely bed waiting for us.”

Fox turns into her body and presses his lips along her tummy then to her hip. “Can’t lie,” he murmurs against her skin, “I’m pretty content right here.” His eyes flutter shut once more as her nails gently rake across his scalp.

“Cyare,” she whispers softly, “take me to bed?”

Rising slowly to his feet Fox doesn’t let himself lose contact with her body once. His  motions are unhurried. “Your accent is getting better.”

“I’ve had some help.”

Fox doesn’t ask who. He has an idea and he’ll probably have to thank them at some point, but he’d rather not think of the Marshal Commander while he makes love to his girlfriend.

Mouse steps away, smiling coyly over her shoulder as he reaches after her. The soft sway of her hips makes his mouth go dry.

“I feel like you’re the one with too many clothes now, Al’verde.”

There’s an underlying confidence to her that he doesn’t remember, a way she moves, a way she holds his gaze. It makes him want. It makes him need.

Just like she had with her dress, he is quick to pull off the black under armor top he wore but the reaction as her eyes trace over him isn’t quite the same as when she’d performed the same maneuver.

Mouse’s eyes go wide as she focuses on his chest.

“What is that?”

Why has her voice gone so quiet? He glances down and realizes-

“Oh Fox…”  her hand is warm against his bare chest as she matches it up with the tattooed replica of her print.

“We’ll talk about it later, cyar’ika.” He tries to sound persuasive but the petite creature in front of him is not having it.

Fox allows her to drag him the last few steps to the bed. He plops down with a tired sigh.

“We’ll talk about it now.” It’s a gentle order but an order nonetheless.

“Communication?”

Mouse nods as she slides into his lap, a leg falling to either side of his. Fox’s hands come up automatically, one on her lower back and the other with fingers flexed over her bottom. “That would be a good start,” she encourages. Leaning in, Mouse presses her forehead to his.

“Now, why?”

It’s the most arousing interrogation he’s ever been a part of. One part of his brain says to kiss her and make her forget she ever had a question in the first place, but the other reminds him of Bly and General Secura.

Promises could be made ‘til the end of time, but if he didn’t follow through, if he didn’t show her that he intended to hold himself to that standard than everything he said, no matter how poetic or romantic, meant bantha shit.

“I didn’t want to forget you.”

“Oh Fox…”

He wishes she wouldn’t say that. He doesn’t like the sadness that fills her voice, like it’s not for herself but for him. Fox tips his head away ducking around her until he can press his cheek against the smooth expanse of her neck. Nothing about this came easy and she seems to give him the simple gift of a small escape.

“I failed you. I couldn’t let myself forget that,” he continues, his lips moving against her skin. His lips brush over her pulse and Mouse inhales so sweet and soft it nearly shatters him.

“Didn’t fail,” she manages out. Her hand slips between them and traces over the inked lines. “You could never.”

“Your faith in me is moving, cyar'ika, but I’m afraid your love for me has left you blind.”

Mouse laughs as his lips brush butterfly soft under her ear. Goosebumps erupt over her body. “So be it ner darasuum. Let me be blind and happy. It’s much preferable to being alone and sad.”

Fox freezes and draws back. Mouse looks so serene and at peace even though there’s no taking back what she’s just called him.  My Forever.

Mouse’s hands gently cradle his cheeks. Her mouth curls into a smile, beatific and knowing. Fox feels like his chest is going to explode.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” The words slip from her lips with the smoothness of a nonnative speaker who is only becoming proficient. “Apparently, it was important for a silly little Mouse to learn more Mando’a.”

Words fail him. Even if he wasn’t saying the right thing he usually had something to say, but not to that. Not to her declaration worded in his preferred language, not when she was perched naked in his arms. Not when she looked down on him like she saw all his sins and cared for him in spite of them.

Fox leans in and captures her mouth with his own, cherishing the feeling of plump wanting lips under his own as he pulls her in close and presses his body against hers. Mouse goes pliant in his arms, moulding to his body as her arms snake around his neck. Her hips rock lazily, grinding against the hard line of him without any real intent just yet. He wishes he would have taken his pants off first. The telltale heat of her center is painfully close, the fabric already becoming damp with her arousal.

A quiet, needy sound rises up in her throat as his tongue strokes along hers. Last night had given him a none too gentle reminder of what a pleasure it was to touch her. Earlier in the cave, it had been a tease of what was to come. Now there was no chance she was getting away from him. No ultimatums, no di’kutla proposals to ruin the moment. It was just them and the sunlight soaked day stretching out ahead.

Mouse’s tongue slides along his own. She’s less languid now. Her body rolls against his with intimate purpose. Each time she grinds down on him her breasts press against his chest. He's lightheaded from the press of her skin, hot against his.

His blacks feel constricting.They're irritating and uncomfortably tight. Fox attempts to push them down with one hand but there’s no room between them. He lifts his hips and she lets out a needy moan into his mouth that makes the aching hardness pressing against his thigh that much worse.

One hand slides up the bare expanse of her spine, feels the little ridges as it goes. Fox’s fingers tangle in her loose hair and pull her away. Mouse whines at the loss.

“Cyar’ika, precious one, sweet love of my life,” he starts, “if I don’t get these pants off I’m going to cum in them like some shiny cadet.”

It takes a moment for her to swing her leg over him, kneeling to the side. His focus shifts to getting his no good, kriffing blacks off his legs while Mouse seems to want to challenge his ability to complete any task. He watches as she leans. Starting at the edge of his shoulder, she begins laying trailing kisses. He falls back onto the elbow nearest her to keep his body propped, allowing her easier movement while his other hand grips at the waist of his blacks and yanks them down as he lifts his hips up. It’s such a relief when his cock bobs free that he nearly groans.

He does groan when Mouse’s smart little mouth moves from his collarbone down to his tattoo. It’s fascinating watching as she kisses each red inked finger. He reaches down and grasps the hardness between his legs and pumps it lazily.

From the tips of the tattoo she trails her tongue over his heated skin, moving down until her mouth opens to envelop his nipple. Fox can’t help but arch at the sensation of her hot mouth as she gently alternates between nipping and sucking..

“Fierfek,” he curses lowly as she continues to heap attention on him. Her other hand slips down his body and shoos his own away from his cock. It’s heaven to watch her wrap her delicate fingers around him and pump, gathering beads of precum to aid in lubricating each stroke.

He curses again as her thumb sweeps over the weeping slit. Mouse’s mouth comes free from his nipple with a soft ‘pop’ of release and she places one more kiss in the center of his tattoo.

“Cyar’ika, I want to taste you.” His cock comes to rest, hard and leaking into his belly as she lets go.

“I think we’ll be discussing the logistics of the bill all night, don’t you?” Mouse offers him a heavy-lidded smile as she pushes on his opposite shoulder until he gives in and falls back onto a matching elbow.

Fox can only nod mutely as one leg is draped back over his lap. “Right now I don’t want to play anymore.” She says softly, taking his cock in hand and lining it up with her center. “I need you, Fox.”

A low groan escapes them both as the angry red tip of him comes into contact and swipes along her drenched outer lips. She moves him back and forth, collecting her slick along the tip of his cock as she goes.  Her mouth falls open in a quiet moan as she uses his weeping tip to rub her clit. The teasing is exquisite torture. Months of longing and desire build with each touch of her skin to his.

One hand shoots forward and steadies her hip as she slowly begins to take him. Usually he’d have used his fingers to help prepare her body, but she’s not having any of that right now. He watches her move, taking little bits at a time. Her head falls back, her eyes shut and her lips parted. That possessive little part in his soul purrs at the sight of his woman, his partner splitting herself open, desperate for him.

“Say it again,” he demands, fingers digging into the flesh of her hip.

Mouse feels drunk on sensation. It’s been too long since she’s had him and each inch she takes stretches her body deliciously.

“I need you, Fox,” she repeats. Her eyes flutter open to meet the soft golden brown hues of his own locked intently on her.

This is better than any dream, any late night with her fingers working furiously pretending they were something they weren’t, better than the discreetly packaged toy she’d purchased off the holonet. All were poor facsimiles for what she felt now as she comes to rest against his body feeling overwhelmingly full. 

“Feel so good,” Fox praises, his voice gone rough, drawn tight like the muscle straining in his neck, “Missed touching you.”

Fox’s hand strays from her hip, thumb skimming along her belly as he slides it up her body. Mouse moves her hips tentatively as his rough fingers skim over her breast and capture the pebbled peak topping it. He rolls the dusky tip of her nipple between his fingers, drawing a ragged moan from her.

“You ready to move, cyar’ika?” he purrs as he plucks gently. The sensation travels straight to her center. She can’t help but arch into his touch, crying out softly at the combination of stimuli. Fox’s hips jerk seemingly against his own will, just a micro movement, but it makes her head spin all the same as she slowly begins to rock her body, rising up oh so slightly before sinking back down fully. Mouse watches as his head falls back and his hand falls back to her hip in a desperate grip.

Soft sounds spill from her lips, a constant flow of pleasure for him to hear.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly as her eyes fall shut again. His hips cant up to meet her, their bodies rolling together in a sinuous motion.

She hears his name fall from her lips, full of love and desperation. In a smooth movement Fox is pushing himself into a sitting position and wrapping his arms around her, tight bands of muscle she couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. Her rhythm is lost as he moves them back, until his back is against the headboard. His knees angle up behind her. An arm stays banded around her as he uses the leverage to begin to fuck up into her willing body. It takes a moment for her to find her rhythm again as bright beams of pleasure shock her system each time the head of his cock brushes against her sensitive walls. He chuckles as she makes a frustrated sound.

“There, there, precious. I’m going to make you feel so good,” he promises, nuzzling against her throat. His breath is hot on her skin and she struggles to ground herself among the sea of emotions swirling around her. She feels his teeth graze along her collarbone and her body clenches around him. Fox growls low against her skin. Mouse holds tight to one shoulder, nails leaving angry half moon marks, as her other hand grasps for the short hair at the back of his head.

Dark marks are sucked into the skin on the column of her neck, her shoulder, the soft spot just below her jaw. She shouldn’t enjoy his possessiveness as much as she does, but Mouse can’t help the way she rocks just a little harder against him thinking about what she’ll see in the mirror tomorrow. A feeling, tight and winding, begins to build low in her belly leaving her feeling like she was in a race to catch up.

Fox feels it too, the telltale seizing of muscles as her body began its hunt toward climax.  Her nails dig sharply into his skin as he finds her mouth. It’s sloppy and needy. Mouse’s teeth nip at his lip and he feels his own end threatening, a telltale tingle starting at the base of his spine. Not yet though.

Their bodies move together, finally finding some semblance of familiarity after so long apart. The quiet whimpers that have been slowly spilling from her mouth become louder echoing pleasantly in his ears.

“You’re close, aren’t you? Me too.” Her hips stutter at his observation. “I want to feel you first. Can you do that for me?”

“Fox- please.” There was something about the way she asked, so polite with her “please” that strokes his ego, bringing a self-satisfied grin to his face.

“What do you need, little Mouse?”

“Ask me again,” she demands breathlessly, “Please ask me again.”

Ask? Ask what? At this point he’d honestly do anything she asked of him. His brows knit together and she must see his confusion through the fog of her desire.

“Earlier. Under the falls- you asked-“ Fox’s hand drops between them, finds her clit and begins rubbing it in smooth circles. Mouse’s back arches and her head falls against his shoulder.

“Again. Ask again.” She begs softly.

Did she mean-?

“Cyar’ika, look at me” he demands, slowing down just enough to turn his head, nuzzle his nose against hers until he’s sure her lust darkened eyes are focused only on his. “Marry me?”

“Fox… Fox… Fox…” she so close he can feel her body pulled taut like a bow. Sweat drips between their bodies as they chase release together. “Yes. Maker- yes.” She manages out seconds before waves of pleasure wash over her. She calls out his name in basic and again, softer,  in Mando’a. It comes out as a sweet Fox’ika he’s never heard her use before.

He holds her close, working her through her high until he can no longer keep his own pace and his body coils tight and snaps. The world whites out as he finds his end in her, each pulse of his cock met by the vice grip of her body around him seemingly working in tandem with his to bring about an orgasm that leaves him overwhelmed and disoriented.

Mouse trembles in his arms. It’s the first thing he’s able to note as he comes back into himself. The next is that her lips are peppering his skin lazily with feather light kisses, murmuring soft words against his neck.

And then it hits him.

He nearly jostles her from her position straddling his lap with the sharp movement he makes. She wraps her arms around his neck and has the audacity to laugh at his stunned expression

“You want to marry me?”

Mouse leans in and kisses the very tip of his nose. “You already asked me that, silly.” Her fingers tease gently at the short hair at the back of his head.

“I- Kriff, you know what I meant.” He slips his hands up between her arms and holds her face. Her eyes are soft and relaxed, her cheeks still painted with a flush of pink, a small smile tugs at her lips. She looks perfectly content and… in love.

With him.

“Of course I want to marry you, taking care of you is a full time job-“ He drags her in for a kiss, slanting his mouth over hers. When she pulls back she’s laughing. “-at least this way I can collect the fringe benefits.”

He feels a smile split his own features in two.

Mouse squirms in his grip. The fading blush returns with a vengeance as he slips from her body, an unquestionable wet trickle following. While she may be embarrassed, he finds it sinfully hot to have his seed marking her thigh. He takes pity though and lets her escape to the ‘fresher. He lets his head fall back against the headboard. He can’t wipe the smile from his face. In his wildest dreams he never saw this playing out like it had.

The sound of the door opening has him turning his head lazily in her direction. He’s pretty sure she’s a goddess. Nope. Strike that. He was positive she was a Goddess and somehow she was his.

She tosses a warm washcloth his way and averts her eyes as he cleans up. It makes him chuckle as he does. She crawls back into bed as he finishes and attempts to lay next but that wasn’t going to work. Instead he drags her back into his lap. She curls into him as soon as she’s in place, legs off one side, head resting on his opposite shoulder all the while looking like she was made to be there.

“When do you think we could do it?” she asks softly,”It’s not exactly legal.”

He’s already thought of that.

“We could do it anytime you want. The old Mandalorian way. Exchange some vows and bam! Married.” Her brows furl in thought “unless you want to wait for-“

“I’m not Mandalorian.”

“And I’m just a poor facsimile of one,” he huffs when her frown deepens. “It’s the vow that matters. If you believe in the words you're saying, the vow you make, what does it matter?” Her hand feels so soft and so fragile in his own as he brings it up to his lips and gently kisses along her knuckles.

“So we could do this?”

“We could do this.”

“When?” There’s an excitement stirring in her voice and he doesn’t try to hide the matching energy on his own.

“Whenever you wa-“

“Now. I want it now.” She slips off his lap and turns to him, kneeling. Her eyes are as bright as the stars in the sky and far more captivating as far as Fox is concerned. He sits up a little straighter.

“You’re serious? Just like that?”

Mouse nods. She’s never been so sure of anything in her life. When he’d said it earlier today she was scarcely sure she heard him correctly, and then the icy bath in the pool had worked wonders in rearranging her priorities.

“Stop questioning me. You’d think you’d be happy to-“

He steals the air from her lungs and the words from her mouth with a kiss that, had her panties not already been on floor, would have surely put them there. His hands cup her face and she’s thankful for the anchor they provide as she whimpers into his mouth.  She lets out a ragged breath as he pulls back just enough for her to focus.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde."

Maker bless Cody because she understands every word Fox says. The Marshal Commander hadn’t even blinked when she’d posed her question.

“You have to breathe Cyar’ika,” Fox whispers and Mouse lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Fox’s brows bunch together as her silence stretches. “We don’t have to-“

Mouse presses a finger to his lips and he quiets.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde."

Fox leans in, presses his forehead to hers. Her heart is full. Her soul is light.

“Mine,” he promises softly.

She smiles at the claim.

“Mine,” she makes her own assertion.

His thumb strokes along her jaw. “Precious…” He pulls her back into his lap and Mouse’s eyes grow wide as she looks down as giggles begin to bubble up in her chest.

“Again already?”

“We need to get to work on those little warriors.”

——-

Mouse really hadn’t wanted to get out of bed. Strike that. She had adamantly refused to get out of bed. She was nowhere near Fox’s level of ‘morning person’ and the pleasantly dull ache between her legs left her even more certain that bed was the perfect place for her.

Unfortunately, her newly minted Riduur had other ideas. Mainly to watch the sunrise - just once - over Naboo’s famed lakes. He’d seemed so hopeful that she had begrudgingly crawled from her bed and slid into a pair of leggings before stealing one of the black under armors he’d packed. He seemed to approve as she tied the overly large shirt off just below her navel, his eyes lingering on the bare strip of flesh as he’d pulled his own clothes on. It had been fascinating and almost jarring to see him in something other than regulation GAR issued clothes, instead having opted for the simple pants and tunic that Padmé had left for all her guests in their rooms.

“You know, we could still go back to bed and discuss the little warriors some more,” she teases lightly as she reaches across the table and retrieves an insulated carafe. She pours two mugs of rich black caf and then begins doctoring them accordingly.

The light is slowly beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a soft glow over the lake when the patio doors open and the rest of their party ease into the cool morning air.

Fox huffs, “First we eat and then we’ll discuss what pops up.”

“You’re talking about sex right?” Bly’s voice echoes over the patio, “because honestly, bravo. Amiright?” He looks to an exasperated General Secura and an equally unamused Cody. “Because wow, you two give Aayla and I a run for our credits.”

“Bly!” The Commander winces as Aayla cuts her eyes at him. Mouse hides her embarrassed smile in the hot mug of sweet caf.

“Come on, look at him!” Bly points to Fox who sips at his own caf. “When was the last time he looked so much like himself?”

“You mean a smug asshole?” Cody cuts in straight faced, but eyes dancing with amusement.

“Exactly!”

Mouse glances at her husband and the way he’s relaxed back in his chair with one leg crossed over the other, the sleeves of his cream tunic rolled up just below his elbows with strong forearms on display... stars above! And that grin…

He did, in fact, look like a smug asshole and it did things to her.

“Don’t be jealous Bly. It’s not becoming.” Fox baits his vod happily.

“Why you little mir’sheb-“

Cody rolls his eyes and physically moves Bly out of the way with a straight arm to find his spot at the table.

Aayla slides in next to Mouse. The Jedi gives her a knowing smirk before gently touching a spot just behind her ear. The twi’lek’s voice is conspiratorial. “Our boys like to make it appear as if we’ve done battle with octopi, no? Bacta gel and high collars are going to be your best friend.”

Mouse can feel her cheeks heating up again as Bly’s head appears over Aayla’s shoulder. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s never worn anything high collared in her entire life.”

“Are we starting in on the armor argument again this early?” the blue skinned woman asks with a huff.

“Now that you mention it…”

The pair dissolve into playful bickering while the doors open and Padmé and Anakin make their way onto the patio, each with a baby in tow, while General Kenobi takes up the rear. The atmosphere is lively as everyone settles in. Babies are dispersed and fawned over. Bly smiles widely as Luke fumbles to touch and grab at his face. Obi-wan has a placid watchful Leia in his arms. Both look serene to a point where it’s nearly comical.

The Chancellor makes his presence known as the food is being spread out.

“What a strange group we have here,” he notes with a smile.

“Ah yes, it would seem you have stumbled on the inaugural meeting of those who don’t believe in fraternization regulations.” Obi-wan’s eyes sparkle with mischief while at his side Cody rolls his.

A small laugh rises within the group and for a moment there is no war, no separatists, no strife or heartache within the Republic. For a moment everyone is allowed to just be, without making decisions or worrying about repercussions.

Mouse tops off Fox’s caf before pouring one for Cody, who thanks her with a knowing smile and nod. Fox is busy piling a plate with food. Colorful cut fruit, fresh meats, and rich pastries fill it as he sits back.

The babies are making their rounds. Anakin has managed to wrangle his daughter back from the child’s Grand Master and Luke is plunked into Mouse’s arms while Padmé seems to enjoy the moment sans child.

When she glances at Fox, she can’t help but notice the way he looks at the infant in her arms. His eyes soften at the little boy as he gurgles and tries to grab ahold of Mouse’s braid hanging over her shoulder.

If he had his way, they’d have a tiny one of their own in nine months. Not that she was complaining. If they could use their contacts to rush Me’kar’s adoption through, they could have two before the next Festival of Life. Of course, until Padme’s bill became law, Fox wouldn’t be the father of record for at least Me’kar - possibly either child - but they’d already talked about it and they would do it the Mando way until they could-

“Cyar’ika? You’re thinking very hard about something,” Fox notes softly, holding his hands out for his turn with Luke.

“Yes, I hope you're feeling well,” Padmé adds as Mouse admires the tiny child tucked comfortably into the crook of his elbow, “I hear that you may not have had much sleep last night.” Mouse’s head snaps to her friend who - for being an amazing politician - is doing an awful job of hiding her smile behind her cup of juice.

Mouse glances sideways at the snort her husband makes. He pushes the plate of food in front of her and eyes it. “Eat, precious.”

He ignores the way her eyes roll and maintains his stare until she takes the first bite of fruit.

“Commander Fox.” Bail eyes the pair of them as he speaks, “I wonder if you had the report on those aggressive negotiations we’d spoken of yesterday.”

“As I stated, they’re likely to remain heavily redacted.” The grin that spreads across Fox’s face should have warned her he was up to no good. “But my Riduur and I came to a perfectly reasonable agreement in the end.”

Bastard.

The table goes silent as Fox looks down and coos something to Luke. Mouse puts her head down and chews longer than necessary. Someone drops a fork. Then, all at once-

“As someone experienced in secret weddings-“

“Can he do that? Legally speaking-”

“Leave it to Fox-”

“I have a sister now?! Cody we have-“

“This is going to go over like a-“

“There’ll be no living with him now. Does this set a-“

Mouse takes another bite as she looks over at the satisfied grin on the face of the Coruscant Guard Commander. “Are you quite happy now?”

“Very.”

She can’t argue with that.

[anna-pixie]

my wife / poe dameron -> 3

PART THREE

escape time!!

summary: you’re back to being tortured once more, but a sudden power cut gives you a chance to escape.

pairings: poe dameron x reader

warnings: mentions of torture

***

Your legs are numb, you’ve been sat in the same position for about a week now and you can feel your will shattering already. Is this really happening again?

It makes sense that after a while, the First Order would realise you were feeding them false information. You managed to evade detection for about 4 months, but now you were back at square one, chained up in a dark room being tortured again.

You let out a scream as the ship suddenly drops, your body lurching forward as the dim lights cut off completely. Your cuffs unpower and release your limbs as all of the power in the ship seems to have been stopped. This only lasts for a second but it is more than enough time for you to get out of your binds.

The lights flicker back on and you notice that the door is not fully closed, you sprint over to it and quickly jam your bare foot in it to stop it from sliding closed. You wince at the intense pressure, trying to ignore the pain as you realise this is probably your only chance to escape. You can hear yelling as you make a run for it, and as you hide in a small cubby in the corridor, you realise that there must be members of the resistance infiltrating the ship. Oh, this is way too good to be true.

What if they don’t want you to go back with them? They’ve left you here for 9 months, that’s a pretty clear message, right? You press your back against the wall, holding your breath as you hear the familiar sound of stormtrooper’s marching. A squadron of about 50 troopers march past, thankfully not spotting you as you crush yourself against the wall.

You let out a breath once they pass, carefully creeping into the hallway whilst keeping your back against the wall. You’re so focused on looking behind you to make sure the troopers don’t turn back, that you don’t notice the person running your way.

You crash into a hard body, which sends you tumbling to the ground with a scream that you desperately try to stifle.

 “...Y/N?” You look up, a choked sob lodging in your throat as your eyes land on Rey, her saber out as she gazes at you like she’s seen a ghost, “Y/N? Oh, Maker!” She screams, crushing you in a hug that has her tumbling to the ground, her on top of you.

 The both of you seem to just forget about the danger surrounding you as you sob, clutching onto each other for dear life.

 “Rey?” You question, you’re unsure whether you’re hallucinating or whether she is actually there in front of you. You touch her face lightly, a stifled breath leaving your mouth when you feel her warm skin.

Rey isn’t one to get emotional during dangerous situations, but as she sits before you with sobs racking her body, you realise that they never abandoned you, they couldn’t have. You embrace each other some more until Finn rounds the corner, reminding Rey that they need to hurry up. He stops in his tracks, his eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him.

 “Y/N…?” He takes a moment to be shocked, thankfully snapping out of it quickly and telling you both to get a move on, you can reunite properly later. Finn can always be trusted to be the level headed one.

You realise that yes, you’re still on the First Order vessel surrounded by 1000s of stormtroopers who are ready to kill you on sight. Rey stands quickly, holding her hand out and helping you get to your feet too. Her and Finn take a moment to drag their eyes over you, sorrow coating their features as they take in what has become of you.

To put it simply, you’re a shell of what you once were. The starvation has pulled your cheeks taught and made your skin sickly, you’re covered in bruises and your lip is busted at the side, a trail of blood that hasn’t been wiped is still underneath your lip. Rey blinks back her tears and snaps back into action, pulling out her saber as Finn lifts his blaster.

 “Chewie is waiting in the craft for us, we need to go left, we created a … diversion … on the other side of the ship.” Finn explains as the three of you creep quietly down the silent halls, and you jump suddenly when you hear an explosion from the way you just came.

“Yeah, Poe is shooting out the canons as we speak.” Your breath stills, and you fight the tears that prick your eyes at the thought of Poe.

 “He’s… he’s here?” Your voice shakes and Rey quickly shushes you, hearing the approaching sound of marching. It’s only one set of footsteps this time but you would recognise them anywhere, “We need to go. Now. It’s Kylo.”

You take a detour down a small corridor, breaking into a sprint once you’re close enough to the hangar. You spot the falcon at the front of the ship, presumably the troopers are too focused on finding the intruders that they didn’t even notice Chewie flying the ship in.

The three of you only dare breathe again once you have climbed into the falcon and the door is closing behind you. You risk one final glance back into the ship and lock eyes with the approaching Kylo. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips downturned as he watches you finally escape. You expect him to shoot at the vessel, sprint towards you with his saber bared, but instead he just mouths two words.

“I’m sorry.”

***

Getting off the falcon at the resistance base feels like it’s too good to be true, you’re greeted by a teary-eyed General Organa who wraps you in your favourite blanket.

Finn and Rey explained everything to you on the way back to the base. You listened in horror as they explained the body that they found (they realise now must have been planted by the First Order) and the funeral they had for you. All the while, you were being excruciatingly tortured. You tried to contact Poe on the ship but his comms must have been busted during the mission, because there was no reply from him.

 “We failed you, Y/N. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us.” The General speaks as she walks you across base, you try to ignore all of the shocked faces looking your way. To them, you’ve literally risen from the dead. And you sure do look like hell.

 “You didn’t fail me General. Believe me I have spent the past few months cursing you all, but that was before I found out that you thought I was dead. You already have my forgiveness.” Leia presses her forehead onto yours, telling you what she doesn’t need to say with words.

 “A certain Commander went straight to bed from the mission. I don’t think he knows about the good news.” She gives you a knowing smile and nods in the direction of Poe’s quarters. You grin at her, giving her a hug before wandering off towards Poe’s room.

Nerves overtake your body suddenly, will it be awkward? You haven’t forgotten what happened the last time you saw each other. You rap quietly on his door but realise that it is propped slightly open, so you wedge your hand in the gap and slide it open.

 Poe is curled up in a ball on his bed, surrounded by blankets as he sniffles slightly. You smile sadly at the sight and bite your lip when he grumbles suddenly.

“Who is it?” His voice is deep, unbothered as he doesn’t even look in your direction.

 “It’s your wife.”

His head snaps up so quickly you think he might have given himself whiplash, and he chokes on his breath as he sees you there, your eyes meeting for the first time in 9 months. Poe thinks he must be dreaming.

***

(inbox me if you would liked to be added to the tag list, whether for this fic, poe in general, or another character entirely)

tag list:

@thescarletknight2014

@starrykitn

@starlite41

@loki-an-idiot

@kasiarella

[a-dorin]

hostage | savage opress

“word count: 1.140k

warnings: cursing, mentions of death, interrogation, use of weapons, angst.. the end is very fluffy though! 

a/n: this was a request from @waytoinlovewithdarthmaul ! also, this was my first time hondo made an appearance, so i hope i wrote his character well! (he’s one of my favorites) since there is not much savage content on this site, i hope you guys enjoy :)) 

prompt:  after being taken hostage by hondo ohnaka and his rowdy crew, a golden zabrak and his companion are in for it. however, after making it back to mandalore safely, feelings that were once repressed emerge, and savage is prompted to act on them. 

“so tell me,” his accent is thick, slurred by the alcohol, “would you or your little friend like to speak first?”

“i don’t think he’s little,” you snorted, rolling your eyes, “i’m not impressed with your interrogation tactics, hondo.”

the weequay leaned in, his breath reeking as it wafted into your nostrils, “well, your friend here is practically an animal. do you see the restraints we placed on him? he’s far more restrained than you are, sweetheart.”

“don’t you dare speak to her like that,” a growl rumbled behind you, “she is not your sweetheart.”

“i see that the zabrak has a weak spot,” hondo chuckled darkly, “bring in the big guns.”

“and what are those?” you scoffed, wrinkling your nose, “blasters don’t scare me. you’re going to have to do better than that.”

“she sure is a fiery one isn’t she?” the pirate teased, nudging your shoulder with his hand as he spoke to savage, “well, who’s speaking first? i need some more intel on your other little friend. that red guy. what’s his name? maul, is it?”

“you won’t get it,” savage snarled, tugging on the shackles bound to his wrists, “you don’t know what you’re doing. my brother is going to have you ripped apart piece by piece, until your blood is spilled all over this-.”

“what’s that horny-headed man going to do, huh? is he going to use some witchcraft on me. he’s only a torso with some arms anyways. he doesn’t scare me one bit.”

two henchmen emerged from the shadows, wielding two recognizable weapons. your heart skipped a beat, your throat tightening, “hondo, where did you acquire those staffs?”

“some tin man gave them to me,” hondo took a swig from a bottle, “i dunno how or why, but it was a fair deal. an eye for an eye.”

fear crept in as the staffs illuminated a purple glow, crackling with electricity. hondo puffed out his chest, “so, who’s going to pipe up first?” 

“why do you even need information about maul?” you arched a brow, attempting to maintain your composure, “the three of us, we’ve been traveling together for some time now. we haven’t infiltrated mandalore until very recently. who are you working for, hondo? how much are they paying you?”

“quite a sum,” the pirate responded coolly, “retch, mundo, let’s prompt our little friends here, since they don’t want to budge.”

“please,” your voice was eerily calm, “don’t hurt him.”

“why not sweetheart?” a devilish smirk crept onto the pirate’s lips, “are the two of you romantically involved?”

“because he doesn’t deserve it,” you remarked, “i’m the one who knows the intel, not him.”

“hmmm,” hondo hummed, tapping his foot, “well, since you asked so nicely, retch, mundo, get her.”

the weequay stepped forward, the glow of the staffs cascading onto you as you squirmed, desperate for a miracle. for some hope that maybe hondo would grace you with kindness. 

however, the fire that blazed in his eyes spoke a far different story, his laughter echoing off the walls, “well, my golden friend, how about we watch your friend writhe around for a bit? wouldn’t you enjoy that?”

the last thing you remembered was the anguished scream that erupted from your lips the second the staffs met with your body. 

stirring awake, you blinked, pain seeping in. however, you were intrigued as you grasped the surface, the sheets soft and cozy underneath your fingertips. scanning the room, relief spread as you recognized the decor lining the walls, as well as the all too familiar viewport. 

night fell over mandalore, the sky a rich navy, the stars shrouded by the light pollution of the capitol. the glow of the city was comforting, a mundane aspect of life that you had no idea you would seek solace out of. 

swinging your legs off the bed, you winced as you took a step, bandages wrapped around your wrists, as well one on your shoulder. your curiosity skyrocketed as you realized you were wearing nothing but a thin black tunic, the sleeves stretching well past your hands.

how did you manage to escape hondo and the rest of his crew? who tended to your wounds? 

yet, one question rang through your mind, oh so clearly. 

where was savage?

padding out of your quarters, you roamed the sundari royal palace, on high alert. rays of moonlight cascaded through the viewports, your skin glowing a silvery hue. after some searching, you remembered that there was one location of the palace you had yet to investigate. 

the throne room. 

swallowing thickly, you pressed your ear to the thick wooden doors, ears pricking with the muffled voices of two certain zabraki. 

voices in which you recognized immediately, the inflections and octaves so distinct. 

the rumble of a golden zabrak. 

and the quiet, hushed, tone of a crimson zabrak. 

pushing the door open ever so slightly, you gained clarity of their conversation, your eyes narrowing. 

“you’re lucky that both of you made it out alive.”

“the dark side provided me with strength,” savage replied, “however, there was something else i couldn’t quite distinguish. something more..”

“i believe it was your affection for the girl,” maul snorted, “you wouldn’t believe the sheer power affection can hold over an individual.”

“i do like her,” savage mumbled, “i enjoy her presence. it’s almost as if she’s this.. radiant light.”

“oh gods,” you stifled a giggle as you could picture maul rolling his eyes, “if you hold such affection for her, then why don’t you tell her?”

“i guess i’m afraid,” savage let out a sigh, “i’m afraid of what she might say.”

“believe me,” maul began, “the way you two act around one another tells me everything that i need to know. it’s quite sickening, actually- wait, i sense something. but rather, someone. perhaps it’s time for your confession, brother.”

two pairs of eyes fell on you as you slipped into the throne room, your cheeks tainted with a crimson hue. savage cleared his throat, “you’re awake.”

surging forward, you collapsed into savage’s arms, the zabrak flinching momentarily. however, the moment you nuzzled your head into his chest, he melted, wrapping his arms around your frame. 

“thank you for saving me,” you whispered, tears brimming your lids. 

“i would save you time and time again,” his lips, so plump and soft, brushed your forehead, “i-i have something that i want to share with you.”

“you can share anything with me,” you murmured, your voice delicate. 

“there’s an abundance of affection, in my heart.. for you,” the zabrak fidgeted, “i’m not sure if i said that right.”

“savage,” you breathed, your eyes meeting his, “i feel the same way.”

the grin that lit up his face, enveloping his features, was enough to light up the capitol of sundari, let alone the planet of mandalore itself. 

[dindjarindiaries]

Hi! from the prompts list Can i request the 1 + 41 with Din? Oh and the reader can have some cute interacción with the Kid. btw, I looooooove your stories, they are awesome. I'm in love with "Security" thank you so much

character: Din Djarin

prompts: 1. There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close, 41. Overhearing they have feelings for you (via this list of clichés) 

warnings: a little bit of angst, minor sexual tension, fluff

rating: PG-14

masterlist

You can’t stop running. You lost Din a while back, somewhere amongst the huts that lined the small city. When you’d both heard the blaster shots of the paired-up bounty hunters, Din had told you to run—and you’d done just that. You hadn’t realized that he wasn’t around you anymore until you’d weaved through the huts and into the crowds of the city.

Yet, you don’t stop doing what Din had told you to do. Your feet practically fly over the ground, diving around people and leaping over random obstacles. You’re not even sure if you’re still being pursued, but you can’t risk it—not until you get back to the Razor Crest, which is still on the other side of the small city’s walls. The child’s currently alone there, and if neither one of you make it back quickly enough, he could get snatched up.

“Watch it!” someone exclaims after you brush their shoulder with additional force. You’re typically the kind of person to stop and apologize extensively, maybe even offering them something in return for your harmful actions, but you can’t be that person right now. You now feel almost more panicked for Din’s safety than your own, and you just hope he’s been able to beat you to the Crest.

Suddenly, you hear another blaster shot from behind you. A few of the city folk shout out in terror, and you look over your shoulder to see both of the hunters hot on your trail. Your gaze snaps back to the ground ahead of you, and your chest heaves both in effort and in panic. Great, you think to yourself. They’ve probably already managed to get rid of Din, and now I have to run from both of them.

The thought of Din possibly already being dead at their hands is enough to get you to collapse on the spot in utter grief, but remembering the promise you’d both made to each other to save the child no matter what, you keep going. You can’t imagine how afraid the poor thing is, probably already having woken up from its nap to realize that it’s locked in the ship with neither one of its protectors around it.

Knowing you need to at least try to throw your pursuers off your track, you rapidly turn a corner, heading down a side street. You then turn back onto a main road, hoping it’s put you at least a block away from the hunters. Your head whips around to see if it’s worked, but in the process of distracting yourself, you soon find yourself getting completely torn off your trail altogether.

A firm grip seizes your arm and pulls you into an alleyway you didn’t even notice. Before you can get the gasp out, a gloved hand covers your mouth, suppressing any sounds you can think of making. You expect your body to hit the hard wall of a building or the ground, but instead, it hits cold metal—beskar.

“Stay still,” Din’s modulated voice murmurs into your ear, and you practically feel frozen as you stand there. You’re suddenly well aware of how one of his arms still has yours in his grip, and the other continues to cover your mouth. Your back is against his front with not a lot of room to spare, if any at all. His grips on your body force you against him, both of your chests rising and falling from the previous chase—and you wouldn’t be surprised if the sudden tension of your close proximity also made your chests heave just a bit more than usual.

You close your eyes as you hear the footsteps of your pursuers approaching. You tense up when they get closer, and Din gives your arm an extra squeeze in response. Your eyes fly open again at his unexpected gesture of comfort. You and Din are close, yes, but you’ve had yet to see or feel him actually show any signs of possible affection—which is something you’ve been waiting for. You want to believe it’s more, but you convince yourself it’s just the adrenaline of the situation.

By the time you pull yourself out of your thoughts, you realize that the footsteps have now gone past your current position. As soon as the sound of them fades completely, Din releases you, but doesn’t give you any time to go anywhere. He spins you around and grips your shoulders, keeping you at the same proximity—but now facing you directly.

“Are you alright?” Din asks you, and you can’t help noticing the edge of concern in his modulated tone. His helmet jerks in a few small directions, as if he’s observing you for any injuries.

Your heart softens, but you remind yourself that it’s all a part of the companionship and nothing more. You give him a nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Din nods at you. “Then let’s get to the Crest.”

You nod yet again to agree, but neither of you move for a moment as your chests continue to practically touch. You’re looking up at him, entranced by the imagination of what his eyes must look like underneath that visor, staring down at you and absorbing your close presence. You wonder if he’s also feeling the sudden electric charge in the air, feeling reminiscent of a storm’s humidity on a jungle planet. You just hope he’s feeling all the same things as you.

And then you realize that the reason he hasn’t moved yet is because you have to move first.

You clear your throat, stepping away to let Din lead the way out. He separates from you slowly, only quickening his pace once the distance reaches a point where that tension between you both finally snaps. Although you don’t feel the charge anymore, you still remember its effect—and you can’t stop thinking about it. Is it all in my head? Your mind is fighting with itself. It must be. I know who I’m talking about here.

For the many months you’ve been working with Din to protect the child, you’ve been able to observe his hesitance to be vulnerable in any way—and affection was a huge one. Even with the child, he only comes out of his beskar-cladded shell inch by inch, never revealing too much. You were shocked the one time you got him to talk about his past. That’d been after a dangerous job, one that almost took away both your lives. That night, you’d spilled a lot to each other—but not everything you’d wanted to.

Your thoughts distract you throughout the trek back to the Crest, during which you neither see any of the hunters again nor pick up the resources you came to buy in the first place. When Din closes the hatch and heads for the ladder up to the cockpit, he stops, turning around to see you following him.

“I want you to rest,” Din says softly. “That chase was… grueling. I’ll get us to another planet for resources.”

“Din—” you try to insist that you’re fine.

“Please,” Din begs you. You decide to give in as soon as you hear the desperate tone in his modulated voice. “If not for you… then for me, and my piece of mind.”

You give him a nod, patting his shoulder. “Alright, Din. But you better not be far behind me.”

Din nods, his attention only drawing away from you at the sight of the child waddling out from where he’d escaped his hiding place. Din bends down to pick him up. “I’ll keep him with me,” Din assures you. He then climbs up the ladder, leaving you to do just as he requested.

You lay down on the cot you and Din take shifts sleeping on, but sleep won’t come easily to you. Your mind is still buzzing with thoughts of what happened before, and your stomach is a fireworks show at the possibilities of what Din’s actions and words could have meant. You’re sure you’re just overthinking, but you let yourself wallow in the feeling, nevertheless. No matter how long you lay there with your eyes closed, your body refuses to sleep—and suddenly hearing Din’s modulated voice floating down from the cockpit doesn’t help, either.

Who’s he talking to? Your curiosity grows, and you find yourself rising from the cot to start heading for the cockpit. As soon as you reach the ladder, though, you freeze, taking a minute to actually listen to what he’s saying.

“I just… I need to tell someone, kid.”

Your heart softens immensely when you realize what’s happening. He’s talking to the child.

Upon earning a coo, Din chuckles and then continues. “I don’t know how to tell her.” Your eyes widen when you hear him refer to you. “I’m not good at this stuff.” He pauses, and you find yourself easing onto the ground in a crisscross position as you continue to eavesdrop. “What would you say?”

The child coos. Din laughs slightly at himself. Your heart soars at the sound of it.

“Right. You can’t say much, yet.” There’s a pause. “I was really worried about her, kid. I thought I lost her. It reminded me of… all this.”

You hear him sigh, and your heart pounds in your chest as you wait for him to speak again.

“I just don’t want to mess this up. I have no idea how to tell her I love her without messing something up.”

Your heart nearly stops on the spot.

“Love her?” Love me? Din loves me?

You can’t believe what you’ve heard. You’re in such shock that you almost miss what comes next.

“I don’t know why I’m asking you, kid. It’s hefty advice. Maybe I should just keep it to myself.”

You shake your head, needing to do something about this. You leap to your feet, ascending the ladder into the cockpit with urgency. Din instantly turns in the pilot’s chair, the blue flashes of hyperspace reflecting off his beskar. You remain in place for a moment, simply staring at the man who loves you—and who you love in return.

“Hey, you okay?” Din asks, rising from the chair. “I thought that you were—.”

Din’s cut off by you, as you can’t hold back any longer. You walk up quickly to meet him, reaching your hands up to grip the sides of his helmet as you pull his forehead down to meet yours. You close your eyes as you absorb the intimate touch, relishing in what you’ve heard is a typical Mandalorian kiss. You can tell Din’s shocked by your action, but after a few moments, his gloved hands also come up to meet the sides of your face. At that, you reopen your eyes, swearing that you can see at least the outline of the eyes that lie behind his visor.

“I’m… going to assume that you overheard my conversation with the kid.” Din’s voice is soft, yet you still catch its hint of amusement.

You chuckle, running a thumb over the metal of his helmet. “I did.” You pause, looking at him more seriously. “And I love you, too.”

You can tell Din’s not sure of what to say or do, but after a few moments of you both standing like that, he begins to draw you in closer. You finish the action for him, letting your head rest against his chest as your arms wrap around him. He eventually figures out how to comfortably get his arms around you, too, and you close your eyes as you simply stand there and absorb the affection you’ve both been craving for much too long now.

You only reopen your eyes when you feel something touch your leg. You and Din both look down to see the child standing at your feet, his little arms trying to hug both yours and Din’s leg. You both chuckle, and your heart practically explodes at the sight. You look back up at Din, seeing his helmet looking at you as well—and the word “family” instantly comes to mind for the both of you.

thank you for your kind words about my writing and “security!” you’re the very sweetest.

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

I Would

The Mandalorian x PlusSize!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, Dry Humping, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Language, Fluff, Soft Couple

Word Count: 2.3k+

A/N: Thank you to @whiskeyslasso​ for requesting and being very, very patient with me ❤️ if anyone else would like to request or just talk/ask, my inbox and anons are open (multifandom!)

This could also be read as Part Two to Beautiful, as they are essentially the same characters/mindset

-

“We’ll be okay.”

“You say that all the time.”

“Yeah, and here we are. Still.”

The Mandalorian sighs. “Okay,” he relents. “But if anything happens, anything at all, you—”

“Radio to you and have my blaster on me at all times.” You smile. “I got this, Din. But we do this every time, this isn’t my first time being left alone without a certain Mandalorian hovering over me.”

You walk to him and wrap your arm around his neck and let the other trail up his chestplate and to his shoulder; his arm wraps around your waist, resting at the base of your spine. You don’t want to hurt his feelings, but he can be overbearing at times, especially when you have the Child with you. 

He sighs again, quieter this time, but nods and gives you a playful slap to your ass, making you giggle and smile up at him. 

“I want this ass when I get back. Understand?”

Your heart skips a beat and you pout your lips. “Promise?”

He growls, making you giggle again and give a light kiss to the beskar. Before Din can reciprocate—in whichever way he feels like—you feel a tug at your pants leg. The both of you look down at the little goblin, staring back up at you with beaty round eyes and a grimace. 

“I think he’s a little jealous.” You muse teasingly. 

Din grunts in agreement. “Of course the womp rat is.”

You chuckle and bend down with a small groan—you really need to see about finding some comfortable padding for those cots—and pick the Child up and sit him by your side. 

“Say ‘bye’.” You coo, waving his hand at Din playfully. 

The Child babbles unintelligibly, but Din nods as if he understands him. “I won’t be long. Stay safe, cyar’ika.”

You nod and blow a kiss. “Be careful.”

“Always am.”

And it’s always hard watching him leave.

–

By the time Din gets back, you’re sitting on the floor with the baby surrounded by various items and toys you bought from a market not too long ago. The Child attempts to sit up, but stumbles in his footing; your hands hover by him, waiting to catch him. He turns to you and gurgles, one green, grubby hand pointed towards you and the other towards the hull, where you can hear Din moving around. 

“You’re so cute!” You exclaim in a mimic of a mother’s adoration. “Just the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen! My little guy!” The Child laughs.

Din freezes just as he steps over the last step, but before you can ask what’s wrong he stalks towards the mess and glances down. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” You smile. “Nothing new.”

He picks the Child up, giving his head a soft caress. It never fails to make your heart glow with a fierce fondness you’ve never felt before. “Did he eat?”

You hum in affirmation as you start to clean up the messy area. When you look back up, Din is already gone with the baby and you’re left alone, sighing and throwing the various items into their respectful boxes. 

“Well,” you puff with your hands on your hips. “That’s do—”

Everything goes dark. Pitch black. You can barely see in front of you, even with the small patch of light drifting through the Crest’s glass. 

“Din?” You call out. 

Your body starts to tremble. The fear that someone or something has actually gotten on to the ship somehow floods through you like a freezing tidal wave, and you’re about to reach blindly for your weapon when a pair of bare, soft hands stop you. 

“Stars!” You gasp, resting your hand over your racing heart. “You can’t scare me like that, Din.”

Nothing but your breathing. Then, “I don’t like it when you say that.” That’s a little to the right. 

Your face scrunches in confusion and you tiptoe until you feel you’re directly in front of where his lovely, baritone voice came from. “Say what?”

“What you said to the kid. It makes me feel... good, and secure when I leave knowing he’s safe but... puts ideas in my head.”

You raise your head. “Well, I would do anything for that bugger so you don’t gotta worry about him.” Your eyebrows wiggle playfully, just for your amusement. “And that’s not such a bad thing.”

“I know.” He says quietly.

“C’mere.” You bring him into your arms.

The two of you stay in the hug for a few moments, just revealing in the warmth and the close proximity of each other. It’s—it’s amazing, holding him in your arms like this. With his job, with your lifestyle, it’s hard to find moments of peace like this; to be able to actually sit for a minute and isolate from the outside world, even if just for a second. Sometimes, there needs to be a reminder; you know that Din needs this more than you do. 

“C’mon,” you gently pull away from only far enough to grab his hand and start to lead him—one arm stretched in front of you—blindly to your shared bunk. “You made a promise.”

It takes a few bumps and some inaudible curses, but when you finally feel that empty space and the scratchy fabric of the blanket under your fingertips you sigh in relief. It’s short lived with a welcoming tap of encouragement by the Mandalorian behind you and you immediately take the hint and crawl onto the springy, hard cot. You wait and shiver in anticipation as you lay on your back, legs already spread and pussy wet and wanting. 

Din practically collapses on top of you with a small groan mixed with your oof as the weight of him settles on top of you.     

“You’re heavy, old man.” You giggle nonetheless. 

An offended noise erupts from his chest, his breath heavy on your cheek as he hovers over you. “Old man, huh? I don’t see you complaining about that when I’m balls deep inside you.”

The crudeness has you shuddering and your legs tightening around his hips. “Eh, you’re not that bad.” 

His fingers ghosts over your ribs and before you can fully realize what he’s up to, it’s too late. 

“DIN!”

He continues his attack on you, tickling your sides as you writhe and wither beneath him in heavy fits of laughter. His own, though softer than yours, joins yours and this—these moments are nothing but treasure to you; better than any quarry, any job, any credit, and you find in this precious time how much you truly appreciate and love him. 

“A-alRIGHT alright stop I yield I yield!”

Din finally, finally stops and lets you pant as your body settles from it’s electric shock. His hands travel down the slope of your body, stopping at the soft fat of your thighs and gripping, pulling you impossibly closer; your hips clash, his half-hard erection grinding against your clothed pussy, making you moan quietly at the delicious friction. 

His unruly curls brush against your forehead as he leans down to give you a kiss. You moan into it, opening your mouth and accepting his tongue with an less than equal match, but you’re more than happy to lose to this battle. Your hips move against his, picking up a steady rhythm as you feel him become harder. When his lips disconnect from yours, you whine and tug at his hair to bring him back; he growls and meets your desperate kiss with a bite to your lip. 

“Take off your shirt.” He orders you. 

You don’t hesitate to tear the flimsy fabric up and over your head and behind him. Your nipples perk under the cold draft that seems to always come naturally with the ship and a light tap to your hip indicates that you need to lift them. Once you’re out of your pants, you hear him start to work on his, all the while one of his hands cups your now bare cunt; he whistles softly at the pool of juices gaping from your entrance. 

“Maker.” He whispers, almost in awe you think. “Already so fucking wet and I’ve barely touched you.”

His thumb circles around your clit, causing your hips to lightly buckle into his touch. “Just for you, daddy.”

Din groans and dips a finger into your pussy as reward. You moan at the slight stretch, his thumb unwavering in its tease. 

“I don’t think I can wait, not this time mesh’la.” He gasps and you hear a slickness that’s both coming from your pussy and him as he thrusts his cock into his hand; at least, that’s what you’re assuming, given that you still can’t really see. 

“I-it’s okay.” You whisper wantonly. “I’m ready. I just need you.”

You blink and next thing you know, you’re flipped onto your hands and knees, his hand pressing down on your neck. You take the hint and lay your head down on your pillow, clutching at whatever you can find to anchor you, thrusting your ass against his hips; the tip of his slippery head slides against your cheeks, earning you a hearty moan from the man above. 

“Your ass is perfect cyar'ika.” He praises with a slap. You whimper and wiggle your legs, spreading them even further apart. “A needy little one, aren’t you?” Another slap, this time harder than the first. 

“Y-yes daddy.” You whine. 

“‘Course you are.” He seems to mumble to himself. 

Before you can say something, anything at all, you hear a lewd squelch—that doesn’t come from your pussy this time—and his hand slides up your slick folds, an extra warmth and wetness coating your cunt and mixing with your juices. Your knuckles are probably pale white by now with how hard you’re clutching the blanket and you’re about to scream at him to do something to you before you implode by your own horniness; it’s been a while for you, too. 

Without any warning, he thrusts into you with one, smooth motion. You cry out as he sinks into you until he can bottom out, holding himself deep within you as he attempts to calm down as you adjust. 

“Move daddy.” You beg. “Please.”

Din moans, shuddering and already panting when he slowly pulls out until the tip is in and thrusts back inside with a hard snap of his hips that sends your body forwards; his heavy grip on your hips holds you steady. You mewl as he does it again, each thrust harder and harder until the slaps of skin against skin echoes throughout the cockpit. Your pussy envelopes him, welcomes him back into your slick and tight canal until he’s a moaning mess. 

“Ma—oh Din.” He stops, taking a breath and shifting his hips. That gets him to hit that spot inside you. “Shit ri—Din that’s so good, keep going.”

“Yeah?” He grunts and scoots closer to you so that his thighs are pressed tightly against the back of yours. “Gonna cum, little girl? G-gonna—kriff.”

The coil in your lower stomach is already burning you. His thick, long and beautiful cock stretching you, hitting every spot inside you that either gets you closer to your impending orgasm or hits your cervix rather painfully, but it’s a welcome pain that the pleasure he’s giving you easily soothes. 

“Y-you-r pussy is so fucking tight.” It sounds like he’s talking through gritted teeth. “So w-warm and tight. Clenching around me—”

You moan loudly and reach an arm behind you to grab on to his thigh, digging your nails into the hot skin as he stutters in his thrusts; you can feel him pulsing and twitching inside you, every vein and wrinkle scratching against your walls. You clench down on him as it starts to feel impossible to breathe, incomprehensible and nonsense babble escaping your lips like a dam broken and your legs shaking under the weight of your release. Your clit throbs without any attention, and you have to beg him,

“Please please daddy, touch me.”

“I—shit I am, princess.” 

“No,” you whine, tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggle to find the words you’re looking for. It doesn’t help the intense and welcoming pressure building deep in your core, travelling through your pussy. “My—my clit, Din. Touch me, use me daddy.”

He stops deep inside you and leans over and down so that you feel his hair on your face again before he kisses you. They’re short, sloppy pecks, but satisfying. He pulls away and fits his hand underneath you, cupping your pussy—to the point where he can feel his slick dick push into you on the tips of his fingers—and circles your aching bundle of nerves with a rough thumb.    

“I’m—” Your throat is closing up and your tummy coils with the boiling need that’s overwhelming in its nature and fuckfuckfuck everything is going white—

“That’s it. That’s it little girl, cum all over me.” He rasps. 

You do. The pressure is blazing and your cunt holds no restraints against his weeping cock, desperate to find his own release. It feels too good, impossibly and otherworldly good, and your lower body follows the rest of yours as you finally fall. Din still thrusts inside you, faster and practically putting all his weight on your lower back as he holds you down. 

“Shit—princess I’m cumming.” He growls, harshly and deafeningly. 

“Yes. Yes.” You encourage with breathless whines. You do your best to move with him, and after a few more thrusts he abruptly pulls out and spills all over your ass, painting the pudgy red flesh with pearls as he whimpers and groans; the soft splats of his hand around his cock and his cum spilling onto you makes you twitch and your cunt clench painfully and tearfully around nothing. 

Din falls down next to you, panting along with you. You stay on your stomach, too tired and fucked out to move, feeling his cum dribble down your ass cheeks; some even drips down to your wet, abused pussy. 

He says your name. It’s quiet and calm, and your eyes droop as you mumble, “Yeah?”

“Think you have another in you?”

You grin. “Always, daddy.”

    Tags: @scarlett-berserker​, @justlovetoreadfics​, @lil-baby27​, @mando-vibes​, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch​, @im-the-music-whore​, @certifiedhunter​, @softpedropascal​, @domino-oh-damn​​, @okaydacre​, @lemongrove​, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony​, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd​, @elusive-ivory​, @dizzydazed​, @bluejeancntrygrl​, @dadzawas-eyebags​, @moonstruck-witchy @our-mrlangdon, @parody-the-emi​, @evalynanne​, @purplewaterbird​, @vikingqueen28​, @tedpicklez​, @blunt-cake-yes​, @agoldin​, @lustriix​, @readsalot73​, @kateb013​, @eupphoriaaa​, @imalovernotahater​, @everything-lost-and-unsaid​, @dlmafa1, @hoodedbirdie​, @drunkenliterary, @fioccodineveautunnale​​, @fangirlfree​, @mrsparknuts​, @amarvelousmandalorian​, @ironheart-hanako​, @bunniotomia​, @thisisthe-way, @sando-rann, @meganoid1997​, @adikaofmandalore​, @cahooter​, @charliepeaceout, @dreamgirl-67, @phoenixhalliwell​, @acrylics-and-sunshine​, @sunkissed-winter​, @oloreaa​, @equalstrashflavoredtrash​, @dyn-djarin​             

[oreolesbian]

the rescue

The silence was piercing. 

It wasn’t the first time they had been in a desperate situation, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last, but Din had felt the sheer strength of the dark trooper nearly piercing through his helmet. He had suffered under the power of only one, let alone an armada. 

Gideon, as pompous and arrogant as he was, was almost right to laugh. To triumph over their failed attempt to overtake him. 

They had the darksaber, the beskar staff—they at least had a chance. 

Din glanced over at Fennec, usually a beacon of confidence, and watched her hands white-knuckling her blaster. 

Mandalorians are good at killing. That’s what everyone said. Piled on top of all the other myths and stories about his people. Yet they were struggling to bring themselves back, to restore order to their cursed planet. 

The darksaber, still in his hand from where Bo refused to take it, grew heavier. 

The doors were banging in harder, and harder, and harder, until—

“Incoming craft, identify yourself.” Bo was leaning over the comms channel, staring intently at the grainy footage of an X-wing coming their way. 

Din frowned over his own terminal, seeing the same footage. The New Republic had no reason to know they were here. 

Grogu cooed from his position on the floor. 

It wasn’t until Fennec commented that he even noticed the banging had halted. 

Gideon looked frozen to the floor in a mix of awe and terror. Assume I know everything. But did he know this? This...shadow coursing through the halls? This—

“A Jedi?” Bo breathed, drawing everyone’s attention.

Indeed, it was. If the bathing green light of the lightsaber was any indication. 

The stranger swept through the droids without a moment’s hesitation, a vengeful angel cloaked with an unfathomable amount of power. Din had seen the things Grogu had done: the healing, the levitating, the trances. All of it was powerful and beyond his understanding, but this. 

He had never felt more entranced. He had seen the other Jedi, Ahsoka, move, but only from a distance. One could only assume, like the stories spread about the Mandalorians, that the ones of the Jedi were elaborated as well. After all, they had been wiped out. Surely beings of such immense capability, of such terror-inducing godly abilities, could not be killed. 

This one definitely couldn’t. His blade swept easily through the monstrous machines, his hood neatly over his head as he twisted the blade and crushed the metal innards with nothing but his mind. Sparks of blaster fire swiveled around the hallways, blurring the footage, but it mattered not. 

It was as if the galaxy was put on stand still, holding its breath as the Jedi grew closer and closer, enough time to allow Gideon, in his true showing of character and pure panic, to roll and fire at Bo. 

She dropped the ground with a pained grunt, her armor blocking the fire, but leaving Grogu exposed. 

Din wasted no time. He dove in the line of fire, taking in more hits to his armor before the others could take Gideon out. 

He turned to check on the kid, only to find him on top of the terminal, leaning over the screen with a small, three-fingered claw leaning longingly over the figure of the Jedi. The two of them stared at each other.

They had been through so much. But Din knew this was his goal. To get the child to his people. To keep him safe. And he was no fool. He saw what lingered in those big black eyes, so innocent yet so wise. 

Longing.

He turned to Fennec. “Open the doors.”

She whirled on him, eyes wild. It was obviously everybody’s first time seeing a Jedi in their full glory. No matter his good intentions, they were all scared. 

“I said, open the doors.”

She tightened her hold on her blaster, sharing a look with Cara while still trained on the blast doors. “Are you crazy?”

She made no move towards the buttons. Huffing, Din did it himself, allowing himself a hardening breath before allowing the Jedi a path straight to them, the eerie green glow easing into the bridge amongst the smoke and debris of the decimated dark troopers. 

The lightsaber deactivated with a steady hiss before being clipped back onto its home on the man’s belt. With gentle movements, the hands—one gloved, one not—tossed back the hood, revealing a face much younger than they had expected. 

His hair was a darkened blonde, a mop over his blue eyes, and his face was passive, as if he hadn’t just spent the last five minutes effortlessly cutting down into the dark troopers. 

“Are you a Jedi?” Din asked, holding his head high despite his trepidation. 

Then, the unexpected happened. The man smiled. 

“I am.” His voice was soft. He held out his hand. The others shifted their blasters in preparation, drawing a chuckle. “At ease. I come as a friend. My name is Luke Skywalker.” He nodded towards Grogu. “He called for me.”

“The kid called for you?” Kaska echoed in disbelief. 

“Through the Force,” Din said, watching Luke’s smile grow wider. 

Cara spoke next, her voice almost hoarse in her shock and her blaster dipped low. “Wait, the Skywalker? The one that killed the Emperor?”

Luke’s head dipped. “That is a story that’s been told, yes.” Din noted a brief hesitation on his face before looking back at Grogu, who was peeking curiously around a chair. 

Luke caught sight of him and softened, dropping to his knees and extending a hand out. “Hello, little one. It’s nice to meet you.”

Din felt a surge of protection, stepping closer to the kid and ready to fight the Jedi, no matter how powerful he was. He continued to be caught off guard as Luke continued smiling at him. 

“You’ve become close to him. He spoke fondly of you.”

“He doesn’t want to go with you,” Din croaked, knowing it was a lie the minute he said it. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to protect the kid, to bring him to his people. Luke was his people. But after losing him, he couldn’t help but want to hold on a little bit longer, to maybe hold out and believe that he could keep the kid around. 

He watched Luke nod slowly, his eyes impossibly understanding. “And he does not have to if he chooses. I only came to offer my aid. I will respect his decision and yours, whatever it may be.”

Then he rose back to a stand, curling his hands at his waist. Grogu continued to coo, catching both of their attentions. Luke continued to smile, but there was something more behind it, a sadness, a memory of some kind that the kid was pulling up. 

Din couldn’t get over the Jedi’s age, how a face that young surely couldn’t have been around for the purges like Ahsoka had been. And yet, if his abilities hadn’t shown enough, he had gone through much more just to be here in this moment. Which was how it clicked.

Luke needed Grogu as much as Grogu needed him. 

If the Jedi were to truly return to the galaxy, they needed to be around each other, to share their knowledge amongst one another, to feel safe. 

He sighed. 

Luke cocked his head, eyebrows furrowed curiously. “I believe he wants your permission to go.”

“My permission?” Din stared at Grogu incredulously. 

“Like I said, he cares about you.” Luke stepped forward, offering a sympathetic look. “I know you have no reason to trust a stranger, but I swear to protect him with my life. He is strong in the Force, but talent is nothing without training. He can stay here with you, but if you truly want him to be safe, he needs to master his abilities. I can help him with that.”

Din glanced between the two Force-users, overwhelmed. He knew, more than anything, about sticking with your own kind. Being a Mandalorian was everything to him, his blood. Being without his own, to see so many imposters, to see the sacrilege on the very name of his people by others who would never even come close to understanding… 

He lifted Grogu into his arms, stroking one of the big ears. “You...have my permission, Grogu. You belong with him. He’s one of your kind.” He swallowed. “I’ll see you again. I promise.”

He looked to Luke to confirm his promise, feeling the weight lift from his shoulders as Luke nodded warmly. 

The clawed hand was suddenly back, and pawing at his helmet. Din’s throat felt tight, and he couldn’t stop the sudden warmth behind his eyes. Just as he moved to lower Grogu down, he noticed Luke turning his head, his eyes lowered. Unbeknownst to him, Luke had first-hand experience with the gripping private moment that included revealing a long-hidden face, for he had been one of the only ones to truly know Vader’s face, to hold him as he lay dying. A final goodbye. 

Grogu pulled at his helmet once more. 

Din gave a shaky smile before allowing himself to snap the armor back, just enough to where they could see each other. Just them—Grogu and Din. No one else in the galaxy mattered.

Then the tiny hand was at his face, brushing along the weeks-old stubble with a bubbling curiosity. Din chuckled. “Alright, buddy. It’s time to go.”

Another gurgle. 

He snapped his helmet back into place before lowering Grogu to the ground, his arms still looped around his boots. Luke turned back with another polite smile, before startling as a figure bumped into his legs from behind him, whistling excitedly.

Luke laughed. “Grogu, this is Artoo. He’ll be coming with us too, if that’s alright.”

Din almost laughed with him when Grogu spun around, entranced by the lights on the astromech droid. He cooed as he waddled over to him, further and further away from Din. 

Luke kneeled once more, allowing Grogu time before lifting him up into his arms in a gentle cradle. 

Then, the blue eyes were back on Din, serious and determined, yet kind. “Thank you for trusting me, Din. Please, if you need anything, I’ll be there.” He turned to the entire group, humbled by their awe-stricken looks. “May the Force be with all of you.”

And then, as quick as he had arrived, he was gone, leaving Din to stare and ponder how the mysterious man had known his name.

[gayleftistlukeskywalker]

the stars pale beside your might ch2

ch1|ch2

words: 5.4k

a/n: whew here we go, setting up plot points. exciting! cw this chapter: slight tw for attempted suicide by a minor character towards the end of the chapter

ao3 link

Din could not remember being put into a bed, in fact he could hardly even remember leaving the throne room bar. Fett’s face swirled in his mind as he sat up in bed, his joints popping into place, eliciting a deep groan. Sunlight filtered through the tiny window near the ceiling of his quarters, particles of dust shimmering in the beams.

None of his armor had been removed, even the weight of his heavy boots were still fixed to his feet. He was used to sleeping with his beskar on, he would peel himself from the small lumpy cot in the Razor Crest to the resistance of stiff, aching muscles. The cot he sat on now, a carved slab of stone which jutted from the wall, was certainly not dissimilar to the one on his old ship. Though usually, when he woke to a pounding in his head, it was because he had taken a few too many hits to his helmet, not because he was hungover.

Din was not one to overindulge, as he did not particularly enjoy the feeling of his defenses being down. The last time he had drunk this much was after his Verd’goten. His buir insisted it was a rite of passage to drink until the sun came up, and a much younger Din had awoken mid-day to a dry mouth, a churning in his stomach, and a hammering behind his eyes.

How long had it been since he had thought about that day? The day his armor was finally awarded to him, fitted like a second skin, and his heart swelled with so much pride he felt he could lasso the sun.

Din’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of raucous laughter echoing down the hall, and all at once his memories came flooding back to the present. Tatooine, with Fett and Shand, Gideon was no doubt in some remote prison hold, and the child was gone. Not gone, he thought, safe.

His gloved hand flew to his belt; the carved metal handle of the darksaber still hung to the leather. His blaster holder was the only thing that had been removed, having been set down on a shabby looking table near the bed. Din grabbed the holder and fixed it to his belt, the weight of the gun a comforting pressure on his side. He ran his hands over the small leather pouch that was tied to his hip, feeling the small metal ball wrapped inside. He tugged it open, bringing the small artifact into the light, and rolled it between his fingers for a moment before tucking it away again. His eyes slid shut as he took in a deep breath, steadying himself against the world.

The throne room was not much brighter during the day, fitting for a bounty hunter’s hub, with all it’s less than savory dealings. Boba was seated upon the throne once again, fully armored, giving an impressive air of intimidation. Before the dais stood two men, engaged in conversation with Fett. Fennec was a fixture at Boba’s side, observing the scene with a neutral expression. Though her face did not betray it, she was no doubt sizing them up, Din thought. Her sharp eyes did not leave their faces. Din had not asked Fett what had happened the day before, though he had some passing idea, if the empty palace was anything to go on. He recalled enough to know he had made an agreement with Fett, though any details discussed were fuzzy in his memory. As Din approached the dais, Fett hushed the men with a wave of his hand. All at once, everyone turned to look at Din, causing his skin to prickle slightly underneath the beskar.

“We’ll return with the shipment in two rotations, then,” said one of the men, his tentacled head turning back to Fett’s attention.

“More or less,” Din replied. He thought about asking Fett how Din had even found a bed to sleep on, but the idea that the man standing before him had helped him drunkenly slump into a cot made him swallow his words.

Fett dismissed them with a gruff, “Good,” and a sharp nod. The pair gave Din another look before heading up the stairs, out into the heat of the sun.

Boba rose from his throne, stepping off the dais and towards Din. “I trust you slept well,” he remarked, casually resting his hands on his hips.

“Good, because I’ve got some work for you.”

“What kind of work?”

“Nothing you shouldn’t be able to handle,” Fett replied easily. “We can discuss it after you’ve cleaned yourself up. Kitchen’s in the back, refresher is down the hall from your quarters,” he said, walking back up onto the dais and seating himself on the throne.

My quarters, Din thought. What had he gotten himself into.

Din was suddenly very aware of the way his clothes clung to his skin, the grit of salt on his face from days of sweat. A shower would do him good. Walking up the stairs and back down the hall, his eyes scanned the interior of the palace. Vague memories started to surface in Din’s mind; hobbling down this same hall, drunkenly slurring to himself. His helmet turned from side to side as he scanned the open doorways of the stone walls as he walked, noting the small bunks, similar to the one he had found himself in this morning. None of them were occupied, but Din noticed the tell-tale signs of a firefight, furniture overturned, dark blaster marks scoring the walls. Perhaps they had always been there, Din thought, trying to push his concerns to the deepest corner of his mind.

The door to the refresher slid open with a hiss, and Din looked up and down the hallway before closing himself in. It wasn’t much, but he was used to even less. The pipes groaned with effort as Din flipped a switch to start the flow of water. Din worked his fingers, stripping himself first of the hard beskar which dropped to the floor with a heavy clunk, then his padding, then finally his clothes and undergarments. He winced slightly at the dark bruises that were blooming on his skin, staining his arms and legs. There was a small mirror fixed to the stone wall near the door, above a stained sink, which jutted from the wall the same way his bed did. His reflection was never something he paid much attention to, reserving that only for when he needed a shave or a haircut. Now though, he found himself staring deeply into his own brown eyes, reflected back through a layer of grime. Dark circles were prominent under his eyes, and fine lines were etched around his eyes and mouth. He sighed, he was getting old.

The warm water that washed over him was a pleasant surprise, soothing the aches that wracked his body. The water on the Razor Crest had always been bone-chillingly cold, no matter how many times he had messed with the wiring to the refresher. It was something that one became accustomed to over time, and the shock of cold had always been good for clearing his head. As he let the water run over his face, his mind was abuzz, trying to piece together the events from the past few days into something more manageable than the clutter that overwhelmed him now. No matter what he had been through in the past, he had always been able to get back up to fight again. There were many times throughout his life where he had thought he had finally met a violent demise, only to be dusted off and thrown back into the fray. This was just another of those times, he rationalized. The dull ache in his chest would fade like his bruises, and become another memory to avoid at night when exhaustion wasn’t strong enough to put him to sleep.

Steam rose from Din’s skin as he turned off the flow of water. Drops of water rolled off his skin and fell audibly to the stone floor, and he pressed a hand against the wall and hung his head to let his hair drip dry. His clothes were in need of a wash, and he longed for the familiarity of his ship, or even his bunker in the covert, as he dressed and snapped his armor back into place. He turned to the mirror again, giving himself a once-over before putting on his helmet. His viewplate display came into focus; despite everything, he still looked the same as he ever had.

Following Fett’s direction, Din managed to find the kitchen on his own. It was surprisingly well outfitted, with enough stock and appliances to service a large group. Despite his nausea-inducing liquid dinner from the night before, Din’s stomach burned with hunger; he couldn’t remember his last proper meal. He was surprised to see a plate of food placed on the kitchen counter, freshly prepared. The smell of it wafting into his helmet made his mouth water, and the growl in his stomach told him not to question the whos or whys behind the plate’s appearance.

He looked towards both the entrances to the kitchen, and, seeing no one, slid his helmet up just enough to expose his mouth. He bit into the meat with relish, and found that it was fresh, and not overly-done. It tasted salty and gamey, bringing forth memories of sitting around a campfire, the smell of smoke and roasting meat in the frigid air. Cold water dripped from the corner of his mouth as he drank hurriedly from a pitcher that had been sitting on the counter; when it was empty, he poured himself another and downed it just as quickly. He licked the remaining grease from his lips, and slid his helmet to cover the lower half of his face.

When he made his way to the anteroom again, Fett and Shand were both leaning against a table engaged in conversation. Fett turned to Din, and ushered him over to join them.

“Find the food ok?” Fett asked with a tilt of his helmet.

“Yes, thank you.”

“That’s it? Go pick up a data stick?”

“Make sure to keep your strength up,” he said, his tone more authoritative than warm.

“Now, let’s talk about the job. What I need you to do is make a run to Cyrkon. I have a contact on Motok who has information for me, you’ll be picking it up and bringing it back to me.”

Fett looked pointedly at Din. “Is that not to your liking, Mand’alor?”

Fennec barely managed to stifle a laugh.

Din sighed, was Fett going to hold that over his head forever?

Boba started again, “Don’t misunderstand, this isn’t going to be some trivial errand. This information broker has been in hiding for years. I was on his tail before-” he cut himself off and cleared his throat, “some time ago, but I haven’t been in contact with him for quite a while. Your job is to hunt him down, and get that information by any means necessary.”

“Should I expect resistance from the target?” Din said, cocking his head.

“I’ll give you the credits to barter with him, but I can’t guarantee it will be a smooth and easy transaction. Fennec will go with you as your lookout.”

Din looked to Fennec, who flashed him a half-smile, seemingly amused.

Boba slid a puck across the table, the holo-display lighting up with the small humanoid figure of a man with horns hanging around his head, his name displayed in Huttese underneath.

“An Iktotchi?” Din asked.

“I told you this wouldn’t be a simple job,” Fett said.

“But if he’s an Iktochi, won’t he know I’m coming?”

“Most likely. But I doubt he has the means to escape off-world. Last I heard, he was working at some cantina in the slum district.” Fett crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Din considered this for a moment, trying to piece together a strategy. In the back of his mind, he had a sneaking suspicion that this was Fett’s way of testing him. His skills, or his trustworthiness, probably both.

“What kind of information am I looking for?”

“That’s on a need-to-know basis. Tell him that you’re looking for information about stargazing on Florrum.”

“Stargazing on Florrum?”

“It’s a codeword. He’ll know what it means.”

Din considered this. This kind of work was, admittedly, a bit out of his scope. Bail skippers and trafficking violations were more his speed, intel-gathering was for spies, not bounty hunters. But, this was the task Fett had set forth for him, as part of their agreement.

“What about a ship?” Din asked, directing his attention back to Fett.

“The Slave I is docked outside,” he said coolly, as if the answer had been obvious. “Any other questions?”

“Not that I can think of,” Din said, exasperation leaking into his voice.

“Good.” Boba pulled a sachet from his dark robes and pushed it into Din’s gloved hands. The metallic clink was familiar to Din, Republic credits.

“I’ll be waiting for your return,” Fett said as he turned to walk down the hallway. “Good hunting,” he called out before disappearing from view.

“I’m driving,” Fennec declared, and grabbed her rifle from where it was leaning against the table before turning and walking towards the light filtering through the entrance.

Din did not find discomfort in silence, in fact he often preferred it to trying to think of words to fill it with. But as he sat in the co-pilot seat next to Shand, he found the hum of the ship to be almost oppressive in the quiet. Under the cover of his helmet, he snuck the occasional sideways glances, but Shand’s gaze never wandered from the ship’s controls. It was Shand who finally broke the silence. “So, you have a plan?” she said, finally meeting Din’s gaze.

Hunting without a tracking fob was more difficult than with one, but not impossible. There had been a few shady deals he had agreed to in the past that required the absence of one. One certain little green womprat had been the product of such a deal. Din blinked.

“Fett mentioned he would probably be in the slums. I’ll make my way there, start looking for the target. You’ll shadow me and keep an eye out, in case he tries to run.”

“Or in case someone tries to put a blaster bolt through you,” Fennec said slyly.

“That too,” he breathed, looking away into the stars passing them by in a blur.

Fennec snorted. Din swung his head to look at her.

“Something funny?” he asked sincerely.

She smirked. “Yeah, you sound like Boba.”

Din shifted in his seat slightly. He wasn’t sure what to make of that comparison. He let his silence do the talking for him, sitting back in his seat and focusing his attention to the puck Fett had given him, studying the target’s facial features. He wouldn’t be the only Iktotchi roaming the streets.

Motok was a squalid city, having been overrun by smugglers and black market dealers some years ago. It had become the hotspot for people of all kinds to get their hands on an endless variety of unsavory items, and the resulting overpopulation led to the pollution of the planet’s atmosphere. Nowadays, it was a city of forgotten people, a place where you ended up and didn’t come back from. Din wondered how Boba had managed to track the Iktotchi down here, and for that matter, why. Not asking questions in the past had helped Din sleep soundly at night, when he could, but from time to time, an uncharacteristic curiosity got the better of him. Especially when it came to people that he was sharing lodgings with.

“We’ll be landing soon,” Shand said, pressing buttons on the ship’s interface to prepare to dock.

The foggy brown tint of Cyrkon’s atmosphere suddenly came into view as the ship shifted out of hyperdrive. As they approached the surface, Motok’s vast dome became clearer and clearer through the toxic clouds. They were not hailed even as they flew closer to the shipyard, traffic control having long been abandoned.

A small opening in the clear veneer of the protective bubble opened up to let the Slave I in, and promptly closed behind them when the entry was clear. Fennec landed the ship with ease, the cockpit turning so that their seatbacks were now parallel to the ground. Din climbed out of his seat, stopping first at the weapons hold. Fett’s ship was, unsurprisingly, well-stocked, and Din helped himself to a sturdy-looking blaster, ammo, and a couple flash bangs. Seeing the cabinet of shiny blasters made him long for his Amban rifle, with its extended scope that had lent itself well to many successful bounties. It had taken him months to save up enough money for the broken blaster, and all the parts to get it working again. He supposed he could save up again, start re-stocking. Seeing the array of weaponry before him, he briefly wondered how long it had taken Fett to amass such an armory.

Shand reached around Din to grab her sniper rifle and her orange helmet. Din hadn’t even heard her leave the cockpit, which unnerved him. She placed the helmet on her head, and fixed the carrying strap of the rifle over her shoulders.

“You got a stun setting on that thing?” Din asked, gesturing towards the impressive rifle with his chin.

“Haven’t used it in a while, but, yes,” she said.

“We need him alive, so if he tries to run, you’ll have to stop him,” he said as he started fixing the weapons to his person.

“Blaster bolt to the leg might work a bit better.”

“Not for negotiations, it won’t.”

She smirked. “Depends on your definition of negotiations.”

Din sighed, this had to be her way of getting back at him for before.

“You ready?” she asked.

Din ran a gloved hand first over the blaster holder fixed to his hip, then along his leather belt; blaster, saber, sachet, flash bangs. He nodded.

The streets of Cyrkon were crowded, it was almost impossible not to brush elbows with other people as they walked along the thoroughfare. Tall structures loomed over the mass of crowds, the tops of them gleaming silver in the light, in harsh contrast to the dirty streets below. Everywhere Din looked, there were piles of garbage and scrap. Grimy looking droids meandered about the alleyways, their blinking lights piercing through the shadows as Din walked past. Hunched figures sat on the dirty ground, looking up at the passersby with vacant stares. He gave a quick look over his shoulder, spotting Fennec’s orange helmet among the crowd about ten paces back.

Asking for directions seemed pointless, and Din doubted that where they were headed would be printed on any of the faded and graffitied city maps. But he knew his way around a place like this, he had been to his fair share of crowded and dirty cities, abandoned by both the Hutt cartels and the New Republic. Those who didn't have enough to live in the tall buildings would pack into patched up hovels in the outskirts of the city, and that was where they would find their target. Din ducked into alleyways whenever he could, bugs and little animals scurrying underneath his purposeful footsteps. There were too many eyes, sizing up the price of his beskar in their heads, hungrily reaching for their blasters as Din walked by. The armorer had warned him that it would attract a lot of attention, but Mandalorians were such a rare sight in the galaxy these days, that Din had always stuck out, regardless of the sheen of his armor. But right now, the less he was seen, the better.

The farther he walked, the smaller the tall buildings grew in the background. In their place were lop-sided metal structures, and streets just large enough to accommodate people and speeder bikes, winding without seemingly any clear direction throughout the grouping of buildings. The structures were all only a couple floors tall, and crammed so tightly together that Din was having a hard time distinguishing them, and the signs that adorned their entryways. Food vendors lined the streets, the attendants, sweaty from the steam, calling out in Huttese to anyone who passed by. The streets were much less overcrowded here, however, Din could not shake the feeling of being watched from the dark corners. He had to keep his guard up.

Din spotted a lone Quarren leaning up against one of the buildings, underneath one of the few streetlights that dotted the walkways.

“Excuse me,” Din called out. The Quarren turned his head.

“Yeah, what?” he wheezed.

“I’m looking to get a drink, know any good cantinas around here?”

The Quarren scoffed, his tentacles twitching. “I’m not a tour guide, Mandalorian.”

Din reached into the pouch that Boba had given him, pulling out a decent amount of credits, and handing them to the aquatic man, who quickly stuffed them into his pocket. His deep black eyes flicked up and down, sizing Din up; he huffed.

“There’s a place just down the way,” he said, jamming a thumb towards a grouping of buildings farther down the street. “‘S called Flit’s.”

“Thanks,” Din said with a nod. The Quarren grumbled in response, slinking away down a back-alley with his hand clasped in his pocket.

Din turned back once more to make sure Shand was still trailing behind him. She was casually leaning up against a metal wall, scanning the surrounding area. When she met Din’s gaze, Din pointed his chin towards the building, and Shand nodded in understanding.

Din could hear loud voices even before he entered the bar, the sound of spirited conversation and brassy laughter echoing down the street. He pushed through the curtain and stepped into the dimly lit room. It was certainly a popular bar, people of all kinds were gathered at the bar as well as at the round tables that decorated the space. A single, shabby looking holo-display was playing some kind of fighting broadcast. A small crowd huddled around it, cheering as one of the bulky figures on the screen took a blow to the face. There were a few who looked him over as he entered, but they were quick to direct their attention elsewhere when Din turned his helmet’s viewplate in their direction. There was nothing like Mandalorian armor to intimidate would-be thugs, who no doubt had more than one bounty on their heads. Din scanned the room, his helmet’s display allowing him to focus on the faces of the bar patrons. None of them matched the target.

No one bat an eye as he walked further into the bar, looking from face to face, occasionally feigning interest in the broadcast. He slipped into the background, making sure no one was looking as he slid behind another curtain that led to the back of the bar. He stepped quietly, peering into the open doorways. There was the refresher, a pantry, and finally the kitchen. He stopped just short of the kitchen’s opening and pressed himself to the wall, peeking his head out just enough to scan the area. Empty. Completely empty, in fact; no cooks or bartenders in sight.

Crash!

Din whipped his head towards the sound, which had come from behind one of the metal counters. A metal bowl clattered noisily as it rotated on the floor. There was a flash of outside light, and the sound of a door hissing open, and Din set off after it at a gallop. He burst through the bar’s back door and into a back alleway. He looked left, right, setting his helmet to scan for footprints. His display locked onto the tracks, from the look of the gait, the target was sprinting down the alleyway, probably trying to use the darkness as cover. Din sped off after the footprints, unholstering his blaster and disengaging the safety. The Iktotchi’s footpath wound through alleyways, down an empty street, and into a dimly lit neighborhood. Din breathed hard underneath his helmet. He hadn’t checked to see if Shand was still tailing him, but he hoped she had better eyes on the target than he did. Neon signs flashed overhead as he ran down the street, dodging the people who gave him odd looks as he breezed past. He slowed to catch his breath when the footprints were closer together, the gait had decreased to a brisk walk, and lead into one of the two-story buildings that held living quarters. Din walked up the thin metal stairs, cautiously following the prints, until they stopped in front of one of the apartment doors. He readied his blaster, and pounded on the door with a closed fist.

“Taesa Kii, we need to talk,” he called out. No response. “I’m not going to hurt you, I was sent to retrieve some information from you,” Din tried again. There was a moment of silence.

“I do not deal in information anymore,” came a wavering voice from inside.

“I’m willing to pay. I have credits.”

“I said I do not do that anymore. I have a blaster, if you do not leave, I will shoot you,” he said with a grave tone.

Din thought for a moment. “You’re an Iktotchi right? You can see things before they happen?,” he said, pausing for a response. When there was none, he continued. “You can see that I am Mandalorian. Once I’ve been contracted, I am honor-bound to complete my end of the deal. If we can’t negotiate, it’ll only end badly for you.”

There was a string of what Din assumed was curses from behind the door. Din heard a flurry of movement, the sound of various objects being thrown about the apartment. Stepping quietly, Din looked around the corner of the building, searching for any possible places the man could escape from. There were no other exits or windows for him to slip through, so unless he had some kind of laser saw to cut into the neighboring quarters, the front door was the only exit. When he came back around the corner, everything had gone quiet inside. Din wasn’t the best at slicing doors, but there were some jobs that warranted it. A charge blast would attract too much attention here. He bent down on one knee, pulling a tool from his belt and setting to work on releasing the lock. After a few moments, there was a click, and the light on the door’s release button switched to green. He stood up and readied his blaster.

The door slid open, and the wide form of the Iktotchi stood before him, a blaster in his large hand pointed squarely to Din’s chest.

“What do you want with me?” he asked, his eyes wide.

“I’m looking for information about stargazing on Florrum,” he said in a hushed voice.

The Iktotchi twitched, barely stifling a gasp. “Who are you with?” he asked, raising his voice.

“No one, I was-”

“Who are you with?” the Iktotchi shouted, hysteria creeping around the edges of his voice. The hand holding his blaster began to shake.

“Boba Fett,” Din relinquished. This did not pacify the man as Din had hoped it would.

“I will not go with you. Leave, now,” he demanded, pushing the blaster closer to the opening of Din’s neck.

“You know I can’t do that,” Din said, pointing his own blaster directly between the man’s eyes. His breathing quickened audibly.

“Please, just let me go, pretend you never saw me. You do not understand,” the Iktotchi pleaded.

Din stood stalwart, not moving a muscle. Dark eyes stared desperately into Din’s viewplate, the Iktotchi’s expression frozen in a desperate grimace. Sweat began to bead around his temples, his frantic breathing apparent in the quiet of the night. With a quick movement of his wrist, he turned the blaster on himself.

“No!” Din called out, reaching for the blaster with his unarmed hand.

Pew. The tan-skinned man dropped to the floor, the blaster he was holding clattering against the metal. Din dropped to a crouch, expecting a gruesome flow of blood to start spreading across the floor. But there was none. He turned to look behind him, Fennec’s orange helmet was visible from a nearby balcony. She looked up from her scope to give him a thumbs up. Din let out the breath he had been holding in and stood back up, his knees popping as he rose.

“Well, now what,” he muttered under his breath to the unconscious man that was now spread on the floor.

He made quick work of tying the man’s hands behind him, in case he woke before Din could find what he was looking for. Information brokers usually kept reports on data-sticks for quick and stealthy transactions, though most of them were either heavily encrypted or written in code. What Fett could want from a man that was desperate enough to shoot himself in the head, Din could only wonder. Din set to searching the dingy apartment, overturning furniture, reaching underneath crevices, knocking on the wall to listen for hollow spots. He soon found himself standing amid a mass of scattered clothes, papers, and garbage. Nothing.

He let out an irritated sigh and cracked his knuckles, a bit of a nervous tic of his. He rolled his shoulders, turning his head towards the ceiling to stretch his neck. As he absentmindedly gazed upwards, something caught his eye, a misshapen tile in the ceiling that just barely stood out from the rest of the weathered tile. He stretched out, standing on his toes to reach, and pushed on the tile. It popped out of place with ease, revealing a small section of empty space. He reached his hand into the darkness, feeling around the base of the ceiling. His fingers hit what felt like a small box, and he clasped his hand around it and pulled it out. The metal of the box was covered in dust and battered in places, and would not open, even when Din grunted with effort trying to strongarm it. He cursed under his breath. The Iktochi began to stir, groaning as he opened his eyes to see Din standing over him.

“Koochoo wee shahnit,” he spat at him.

“How do I open it?” Din asked, crouching down to his level.

The man sat up, looking intently into Din’s viewplate. “I will not tell you.”

Din sighed, rolling his eyes underneath his helmet. He reached into his pockets for the credits Fett had given him, and poured out the small bag in front of the Iktotchi’s face, the small metal strips clinking against each other.

The man scoffed, “You think these credits are worth anything to me? Money will not help me now.”

“What do you mean?”

“They will hunt me down for letting this information get out.”

“Who will?” Din pressed.

“The Imperials,” the man said with a low voice.

“The Imperials are gone. The Republic has bounties out for anyone who served under them,” Din dismissed.

“No,” the man shook his head. “No, they will come. Even if I flew to the Unknown Regions, they would find me. And now, they will hunt you too.” He searched Din’s helmet once again, looking for sympathy in the pure beskar, but was met only with his warped reflection looking back at him.

“Please, just drop the box and leave. It is not worth whatever credits they’re offering,” he pleaded, inching closer to Din.

Din stood up, pocketing the small box. Getting it open could be Fett’s problem, it was clear this guy wouldn’t be open to any further negotiations.

“Sorry, but I have a job to do.” Din stepped over the man and opened the door, walking into the night.

“Then it will be your death! Yours, your familys, your peoples,” he called out after him. Din ignored the feeling of his arm hairs standing on edge as he stepped out onto the street.

Fennec was waiting just down the way, her helmet tucked underneath her arm as she chewed at a piece of roasted meat, skewered on a stick.

“Took a while. Did you get the information?” she asked.

“Yeah, I got it,” Din said, his voice steely.

“Let’s get out of here then,” she said, taking one last bite before tossing the stick into the street. She pushed her helmet back on over her head. “That’s two you owe me now, by the way,” she added as she strode ahead of the armored man and down the thoroughfare.