#insect droid

[darth-kote]

[definitelynotshouting]

thank you for absolutely RUINING my life with hunger au. i had a biology class today focusing on millipedes, and i learned NOTHING. below is a representation of what my brain was thinking instead of actually listening to the class

but i suppose i forgive you, i wouldnt be here if i didnt enjoy having my life ruined, please continue :)

WJDBWKDNWKSNKQDNKWJSK WELCOEM TO THE "MILLIPEDES IS GRIAN??" CLUB. IT ALL COMES DOWN TO BUGS<3

[leechkiss]

i'll always keep the scars you gave me, a memory to the grave

[maulfucker]

I am a serious oc artist

[draculasfavoritewife]

Misconceptions

Summary: Traveling with the Mandalorian was always going to create false impressions -- if only they knew what he was like behind closed doors.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Reader being a bit of a tease, implied smut, heavy sensuality and SOFTNESS! Din is a bit of a soft dom (according to me).

So I came up with this idea on a road trip last year, when I read a theory about the concept of Mandalorian celibacy, and the dialogue generator in my brain went off the rails 😁. My personal headcanon is that while Mando is not a full-on dom like I've seen some write him, he does like to be somewhat in control so yeah.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

You knew something was wrong the second he entered -- or rather,  stormed into -- the small room in the inn your little crew was occupying for the night. Normally even when fully armored he can move with surprising stealth, stalking his prey like a wild nexu on the prowl.

You've always wondered how he manages to not clank like a droid wherever he walks.

Now, though, none of that control softens the thud of his heavy footsteps as he passes you without even so much as a greeting and aimlessly unpacks his gear, taking no care to muffle the clatter of his personal arsenal before he chooses his pulse rifle to dismantle and start cleaning.

You approach him cautiously, noting the deadly sharp motions of his gloved hands and the stiff angles of his shoulders. He's quiet, much too quiet, only the crackle of his tight breaths sounding through his vocoder.

"Want some help?" you ask, keeping your own tone warm and flashing a brief smile at his gleaming helmet.

Silence.

Undeterred, you delicately pull his EE-3 carbine from the mess and seat yourself cross-legged near his feet, expertly taking it apart and starting to lovingly free it from the layers of buildup caused by frequent use.

A side glance reveals that his shoulders have loosened slightly, rolling forward as a longer breath drags from his lungs. He's not angry at you, as your unsolicited presence actually seems to have calmed him a tiny bit.

The pair of you work in the quiet for some time, only disturbed by the child whenever he toddles up to one or the other of you to eagerly show you some new insect he's found in the dust of your temporary lodging quarters.

"So," you finally say casually, not taking your eyes from the detailing of his rifle as you finish your task. "Want to talk about what's got you in such a snit?"

He snorts. "No."

"Din," you finally look up at him then, and see his head tilt towards you as it always does when his true name leaves your lips, "you know you don't have to shoulder everything yourself anymore. We're partners. I'm more than capable of carrying my share. What's happened?"

"It's nothing like that," he grumbles, his visor flicking away. "Someone just made me angry, is all."

You wait, opening your arms and lap to Grogu as he squeals and reaches for you. Din's already said more than he probably meant to, which means there's more coming.

You just have to wait for it.

He doesn't keep you waiting long, to both his surprise and yours. You've been wearing him down with your patience lately, it seems.

"Some piece of bantha fodder in the cantina made a comment about you after you took Grogu back up here," he mutters. "He had the GALL to ask me what I pay you."

You hear leather protesting as his dangerous hands clench into fists.

By what he leaves unsaid, you know the implications of the remark meant something much different than simply a relationship of business employment.

You blink up at him, oddly more touched by his rage towards the scum who would suggest such a thing than bothered by the story itself.

"If we weren't already trying to keep a low profile here, Cyar'ika, I would have stuffed those words back down his vile throat until he choked on them."

You rise to your feet, Grogu still cradled to your chest, trying to deny that you find his threat on your behalf so arousing. "Well, I can't decide whether to be insulted or flattered. I never thought I could pass for a courtesan."

"You're not helping" he tells you dryly. "And you know that's a load of bantha."

With a grin, you take the child to his little bed in the next room, and place your palms against the Mandalorian's cool beskar breastplate when you return. "I'm sorry for joking about it, ner'cyare. And I'm sorry you have to hear people speculating about our relationship. I wish they could keep those thoughts to themselves."

Letting your fingers drift upward to tug on his cowl, you add, "But it's not even as bad as what someone said to me while I was getting food for Grogu."

He goes rigid. "Tell me."

"Some old guy gave me a pitying look when he saw I was with you. Came over and basically said something along the lines of, 'Best to give up sooner rather than later, Sweetheart. You know those Mandalorians...they're CELIBATE.'"

Din's left speechless for a moment, and you can almost imagine his eyes blinking in shock.

"I...what...why...?"

You shrug carelessly and step away from his body, crouching down to reorganize his weapons where they lie forgotten on the floor. "It's just a rumor, Din. Since our people pick up foundlings all over the place and have so many rules of conduct. The galaxy's just jumped to the conclusion that our people don't actually engage in...intimacy, of any kind. I used to hear the same thing said about me, before I stopped wearing the armor."

He's quiet again, thoughtful as he draws the curtains across the window, shrouding the room in shadow. You allow a wicked grin to curve your lips for a moment, confident you've rerouted his focus from his earlier outrage.

A muted clank tells you he's removing his beskar now that it's dark.

"I hope I didn't offend you by relaying that story," you sing-song into the shadows behind you.

Nothing.

As soon as your guard is down, a pair of long arms has you in a durasteel grasp and you're lifted from the floor and tossed onto the bed before you can even make a sound.

"What's brought this on?" you half-laugh into his bare chest as he all but smothers you.

Hot lips tease your throat and rough hands crawl up your spine beneath your shirt, making you arch into him for more and wrap your legs around his hips.

"I'll show you who's celibate," he growls close to your mouth, punctuating his words with a kiss that hints at teeth. "Someone's asking to be reminded."

"Teach me a lesson, then, ner'alor," you hum into his hair, reverently inhaling the smell of leather, sweat, and smoke that always saturates his skin. Most times he protests your use of such an authoritative term for him, but when he's riled up, you know that some deep dark part of him likes it.

He needs no further urging, and soon both of your respective annoyances are long forgotten in the throes of bliss.

Much later, when the flames have cooled, you lie tangled together in the sheets, his head resting on your chest and your fingers lovingly working the knots out of his thick hair. As much as you yearn to someday look upon the face of the man you love so deeply, you can't deny that the darkness gives a gift of true closeness you might never have known in the seeing world. The flicker of his eyelashes against your skin and the way his now-tranquil breaths warm your body are enough in this moment, and no amount of credits could ever persuade you to give this up.

"Your helmet has really made a reptavian's nest of your hair this time, my love," you observe as your fingers catch in his curling locks for the umpteenth time.

"Mmm, most of that mess is your doing this time, Cyar'ika." Din's voice is husky, as it always gets when he's on the verge of sleep, but he sounds more at ease than he has in days, and you allow yourself to hope that he'll sleep through the night tonight, that his body will actually let him fully rest for once.

"At least I can undo that with time. I'm afraid once daylight comes, my new skin pattern won't be so easily hidden." You have a few suspicions already of where the bruising evidence of his zealous kiss blossoms across your flesh, and as you prefer to dress much lighter than your armored companion, such adornments do not go unseen.

"You love wearing my mark." There's the barest hint of smugness underlying his tone. "Don't try to pretend otherwise."

"...Alright, I won't." You reach down to toy with his mythosaur necklace, letting the tips of your fingers flit down his torso and feeling him pull you closer in response, his own hands settling into their place at the top of your hips. "Whatever other people might say, Din Djarin, I love you. Never doubt that."

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Mesh'la."

You're about to drift off, there in his embrace, when a lonely chirp from the other room jolts you fully awake and you sigh.

"I'll go get him, Din."

"Hurry back," he murmurs, reluctantly releasing you from his warm hold.

You scrabble around in the blankets for a moment, unable to locate your clothes, until Din tosses his shirt at you. "Here, take mine."

You pull it over your head, feeling immediately oddly at home swimming in the folds of the massive piece of clothing. It's unexpectedly soft, well worn from years of use -- and abuse -- and it smells just like him. You smile to yourself as you crawl out of bed, the shirt's hem drifting to the tops of your thighs.

"Cover your eyes, I'm opening the door," you tell him.

"I'm not going to go blind from a sliver of light," he grumbles.

"Just thought I'd warn you." You push the door to your shared room open, about to go rescue Grogu from his solitude.

"Wait. Stay there."

You hear him dressing in the other half of his clothes, and the bed creaks as he rises. You instinctively let your eyes flutter shut as his quiet footsteps approach from behind.

"Just for a minute...I want to really look at you with my own eyes."

Your heartbeat quickens at that, and you realize then that he's never really seen you, either.

Through the visor of his helmet, sure, but he's never actually set eyes on you this vulnerable, this...undressed.

You're almost as much of a mystery to him as he is to you, intimately as you know each other.

It amazes you, the trust you've established between the two of you as he stands before you and his breath rustles your unkempt hair. He doesn't reach to cover your eyes himself, worried that you'll look at him without consent. He trusts that your love and respect for him is enough to keep your eyes softly closed.

He studies you, hands tracing down your arms and along the shape of your body covered in his dark shirt. His touch is light, almost shy as he takes the sight of you in. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that one day he would be standing here with someone like you, someone wearing his clothes, who loves him enough to share everything with him and not demand that he break his sacred creed before he's ready.

Someone who he wants, more than anything, to be his forever, to one day, if his life ever allows it, become his riduur.

The person that he almost -- almost -- for a second entertains the thought of telling to open her eyes, to really LOOK at him as he is, unmasked in the soft light of the hallway.

But he doesn't, not this time.

Someday.

You feel his hands frame your face, melt into the familiar calluses of his fingertips as his thumbs lightly caress along your cheekbones. You smile wistfully as he tenderly kisses your closed eyelids, then rests his forehead against yours in a keldabe kiss.

"Mesh'la," he hums quietly, and you can hear the hushed awe in his voice, the way he gets when he's overwhelmed by feelings he can't put into words. "Dank farrik, you're so lovely."

You shiver slightly at his words, feeling heat race to your skin. You don't know exactly why, but you've always loved the sound of his voice when he lets that particular expletive slip.

"Careful, Djarin," you murmur as your lips seek out his. "You don't want me asking for another round before you're ready."

"Why do you assume I'm not ready?" he teases, teeth catching playfully at your bottom lip as you pull back.

"Developing more of an appetite, I see." You rise on your tiptoes to brush your nose against his, grinning as always at the way his scruffy facial hair tickles your face.

"I had to, to keep up with you." His hands tighten on your waist, drawing you against his well-muscled body suggestively.

You reluctantly push away from him, though not before planting a kiss in the hollow where his throat meets his collarbone, a place you know drives him wild. "I do have to go. Your ad'ika wants his buir."

"That was a dirty trick, Mesh'la." He sounds put out, and a little pent up now.

You twist your finger in his necklace, before turning away so you can open your eyes and finally go rescue your foundling. "I'll make it up to you later, Cyare. I promise."

"Don't make me pay you," he deadpans, reminding you of the comment that first started off this very pleasurable evening.

You smirk, knowing he can hear it in your voice as you saunter away. "Oh, I'm very certain I'll get exactly what I want from you."

When you finally return, the child clutching the folds of your borrowed shirt, he's in bed again, so once the door is shut the darkness swallows you in its comforting shroud once more.

You listen to Grogu's happy squeaks as he clambers across from your chest to Din's, and the answering murmurs of his father. Content in the company of the two beings you love most in the galaxy, you stretch out to lie against your lover's warm body, relishing the temporary luxury of a soft mattress to sink into and room to spare. You're not going to wake up with kinks in your spine for the first time in forever.

"You should get a bigger bed on the ship," you suggest through a yawn. "This is awfully nice."

"What's wrong with mine?" He sounds offended, the fingers of his free hand searching until they find their way beneath the draping excess of his shirt that's still cocooning your form. It surprised you at first, probably surprised him too, just how much the man craves these rare spells of skin-to-skin contact, made all the more meaningful by his personal restrictions. You settle into his languid stroking before mustering a reply.

"It's just nice not to worry about falling off the bed when all three of us are together."

"I suppose," he concedes, pausing a moment to no doubt smile at the tiny snores of the now-sleeping child. "But there is something to be said for how close necessity draws us. Don't you roll away from me in the middle of the night."

"Or what, you big gundark, you won't pay me?"

He squeezes the soft part of your waist at your teasing. "Maybe I won't."

"That's a breach of contract." You tangle your legs with his and wrap your arms around his midsection, assuring him without words that you're not going anywhere. "Admit it, you'd like it too. Imagine a world where you don't wake up every morning with stiff muscles." You lazily start to knead into his back, soothing out the weariness and tension that like to take up permanent residence there.

He sighs appreciatively, breath hitching slightly whenever your ministrations encounter an especially stubborn knot. "I do not wake up EVERY morning with stiff muscles."

"Could've fooled me, with the amount of old-man groaning I hear whenever you get out of bed."

"I don't do that."

"Why do you think I always wake up when you leave, hmm?"

"Because you're incapable of keeping yourself warm and you need me to keep from freezing to death." His reply is certain, leaving no room for further rebuttal.

"Kriff. You do know me too well. You still sound like an old man in the mornings, though."

"Don't argue with me, Cyar'ika." Din's voice is warm, but his hand starts straying from platonic towards more intimate. "You're at a bit of a disadvantage."

"How so?" You shouldn't ask, but an impish desire to hear him actually voice his dangerous thoughts overpowers your common sense.

The smirk in his voice is audible. "You have a much more difficult time keeping quiet than I do. You wouldn't want to wake the kid now, would you?"

"Dank farrik."

He relents when you wordlessly concede, returning to a comforting caress rather than an instigating one.

You've almost dozed off again in your shared darkness when the mattress bucks as he hauls himself out of bed to take Grogu back to his own room. You gaze through half-closed eyes at his silhouette when he pauses, back-lit in the warm glow of the opened doorway. You take him in without detail for a brief moment, the curves of his well-defined shoulders and arms, the textured mess of his hair, the slope of his prominent nose. Your heart blossoms with the affection and passion this wounded, pure warrior ignites within you, and you are hit once more with the desire to truly see him, bare and in the light, all his barriers laid down for you.

He's the only man you would ever consider taking as riduur.

Someday.

Before you know it, your brave hunter has returned to your embrace, leaning over you and trapping you between his arms as he rests his scruffy cheek against your smooth one, the two of you allowing a long moment to simply breathe each other in, thankful once more to whichever gods you may believe in that for one more day, you are alive, and you belong to each other.

Then he rises to his knees and pulls you up with him, his breath warm on your skin.

"Don't ever leave me, Mesh'la," he whispers roughly into your throat.

Your head snaps back in delight at the sensations his mouth stirs within you, and your nails scrape across his scarred back in answer, drawing wordless sounds from deep in his chest.

"Never, ner'cyare. I would hunt you across the stars if ever we were parted."

He sighs, the movement of his body rocking yours. "Thank you."

"Can I keep this shirt?" you ask saucily.

"Yes." His hands curl around its hem and start lifting. "But take it off for now."

You hum questioningly as you allow him to guide the thick fabric over your head.

"After all," and his voice hardens, taking on the dogged quality that makes him the best there is at what he does.

"I haven't forgotten about that next round you promised, my love."

Ner'cyare = My beloved

Ner'alor = My leader/boss

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Mesh'la = I love you, Beautiful

Riduur = Spouse

Ad'ika = Little One/Small child

Buir = Parent

[cosmorandom]

Blade.. Pet name.. Ship list.. thing... Idk

I'm on a bit of a Blade sugar rush because I'm trying to cope not getting his newest SSR. I am a simple man, and my mind immediately went to "what pet names would he use for the other clan members".

We know Blade already has his nicknames for everyone, but what if we added some of that magical shipping salt in there?

Eiden - Darling (duh)

Yakumo - Sweetie Because he IS very sweet and I'm sure Blade would take notice of that <33 BUT!! I will say, Baobei also seems like something right up Blade's alley....

Edmond - Baby I think it'd be rlly funny to see Edmond freaking out because his robot boyfriend just loudly proclaims "BABBBYYY!!! ARE YOU ON PATROL?????" In the middle of the street without any shame

Olivine - Dear/My dear this one just feels fitting. It's sweet, it's endearing but also somehow modest. Olivine would like that

Quincy - Honey because why?? Well honey can found in forests and made by little yellow insects. I'm sure Blade would look at a fuzzy little bee and think "look!!! It looks just like honey!!" And Quincy replies "no it doesn't."

Kuya - Master OKAY let me try and explain my thought process here. I feel Blade would've come up with something.. well, Blade-y. Something cute, something intimate, something embarrassing and Kuya would NOT like that. It'll take some A-grade manipulation and tampering of E-droid decision-making, but eventually Kuya would convince Blade to refer to him with something respectable, so, Master it is! Plus, with Kuya, there's gotta be some sort of "hierarchy" or power imbalance at play.

Garu/Karu - Pookie-Pup/Almighty Karu had to do a bit of creative thinking on these ones. For Garu, I feel like pookie would be cute, juvenile, cheesy and perfect!! And because of puppy boy reasons, I glued on the "-pup" on there. As for Karu, he, too, would have demanded to called Master, but since Blade can't have two masters, they settled on "Almighty Karu". Karu is very, very happy and proud of this, he successfully has a new slave! A robot slave! Humanity will surely fear him now! As for Blade, he's just happy to be here.

Dante - Lord Cutiepie Blade thinks it's perfect, Dante hates it, and Eiden and Aster are trying not to roll on the floor laughing. It's Lord Jackass but evolved through the power of love!! Don't worry guys, Dante will come to like it someday.

Rei - Boo it's cheesy and embarrassing, but Rei couldn't care less. Whatever makes Blade show up on his dissecting table

Aster - Little Sweetheart Aster proposed this himself! Blade at first didn't want to call him sweetheart, due to him already being Darling's little sweetheart, but Aster said he can be everyone's little sweetheart! ....But also because "Sugar Daddy" is a horrible pet name.

Morvay - Sugarplum plums are cute and purple! Just like Morvay! It's perfect! It's also perfect because Blade had been using "dumb cockslut" prior to "Sugarplum" without knowing what it meant, and everytime Blade called Morvay, the incubus would pop a boner right then and there and quite frankly, made everyone else in the mansion uncomfortable. Luckily, Eiden and Olivine gave him some safer options.

Now back to grinding those gems... One day you'll come home blade...

[breakfastteatime]

"Do you think Greez will be happy to see us?" The closer they get to the town, the worse Cal's nerves become. He feels like he swallowed an ant nest.

BD announces that, so long as they don't mention the crashed Mantis, not only will Greez be happy, he will throw a party to celebrate.

"Please, no parties."

A huge party, the very hugest, with everyone Greez knows on this big, strange planet of his in attendance.

Cal glances at the anomaly in the sky. "Very strange."

With an encouraging whistle, BD gives him a nudge. Time to go, before night really falls and Cal falls asleep on his feet. BD wants to see what will happen - a party, or Greez crying dramatically.

Cal holds in a yawn. "I'd prefer crying."

Huddling closer, BD says nothing.

It's not right. Gabs, Bravo, the twins... They should be here, all of them complaining about the lack of any big cities on Koboh, the annoying insects, the even more annoying droids. Greez really would've thrown a party then, cooked all his best recipes and swapped war stories with the crew.

Brushing a hand over his weary eyes, Cal locks his gaze on the town in the distance. "Let's go give Greez his big surprise."

BD's whoop is just the tiniest, littlest bit menacing.

[fanfoolishness]

Headcanons from the (first) Kashyyyk mission

So there was supposed to be an arc with the Batch on Kashyyyk in S7 of Clone Wars, but like Dark Disciple it didn’t get a chance. But I still like to think of the Batch each finding a moment on Kashyyyk where the war receded into the background, and they felt something new:

Wrecker has never seen trees like this. They soar up into the clouds, trunks the size of cruisers, villages spiraling up into the trunks. As the others scout ahead he rests his hand on a vast trunk, so large around its surface almost seems flat instead of curved. The wood beneath his palm feels invincible. For the first time in his life, he feels small in a way the steel and sea and rain of Kamino never had achieved.

Echo takes a deep breath. The smells of smoke on the battlefield, blaster fire and droid grease are thick on the ground, but behind that he catches gusts of a green and living scent rich and raw and real. Water mists on his face, cutting through the grime of battle. It’s nothing like the sterility of Skako Minor, and he breathes deeper, waiting for another hint of green.

Tech’s ears perk up at chatter in the trees. He’s adding fluency in Shyriiwook to his list of languages, filing away each growl and utterance in his mind, cross-referencing with his translator, putting it together. But Kashyyyk is a whirlwind of other sounds, too, and he catalogues and isolates each one as fast as he can in the downtime between the next assault. Spiders insects birds water leaves, the sounds of blaster fire in the distance mingling with the songs of night creatures in the lower canopies, the sighs and flows of the forest. His mind buzzes with it. He records three data cards’ worth of memory in two hours.

Hunter’s senses jangle, whole streams of information coming in through every sense he’s got. This place is absolutely exploding with life at every turn, and it’s a cacophony that takes him a few hours to acclimate to. But even when he’s got a handle on it, there’s still a buzz and a hum he feels more than hears, a webbing that’s got nothing to do with the giant spiders, a connection between… well, everything. It’s a pulse in the soil from tree to tree, the wind carrying animal calls and tree pollen alike, the crackle of mycelia deep in the soil underfoot. He could live here a dozen years and never untangle all of it. But he might like the challenge.

They might be supposedly safe here, but Crosshair still scans the environment, searching for signs of anything suspicious. His vision glides over bark in a dozen shades of brown and gray, smatters of jewel-bright mosses and lichens, vines in flowers of scarlet, violet, gold. There’s creatures, too, scampering furry things of tawny gold with tufted tails, the jet-black glitter of massive spider eyes, insects half the size of clankers with emerald wings and kaleidoscopic scales. The sky peeks through the ceiling of leaf and canopy, and for an instant, he catches just a glimpse across the blue: the silver shimmer of translucent feathers, the suggestion of enormous wingbeats, the shadow of a long and sinuous tail. His eyes sting. He blinks away the water from them, his chest feeling oddly light.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Local Flavor

Poe Dameron x Fem Twi'lek!Reader

Summary:

On a solo job to Ryloth to pickup a shipment for The Resistance, Poe runs into an unexpected hiccup. With his only transport damaged and BB-8 offline, Poe is forced to stash his cargo and venture out into the harsh Rylothian landscape, where he finds you. Or, more accurately... you find him.

TW/CW: Near death, infection, fever, dehydration, fluff, Poe is a disaster pansexual idiot, BB-8 is his son fight me. Bugs!!! Big!!! Bugs!!! Strip poker (technically), everybody checks everyone out, but nothing explicit happens.

A/N: It's about time I wrote something for Poe! I can finally do the idea I had now that I thought up a plot! This fic takes place before The Force Awakens! (I hope you guys like the reference I put in there! Dun dun duuuun!)

And like, I just wanted an excuse to show Leia being the "team mom".

Asdfghjkl god this is a long-winded one but I didn't wanna break it up into parts; and the ending feels a bit lacking, but i loved writing it.

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

It was supposed to be a routine supply run for some extra credits for the Resistance.

Go to the location, pick up the package from the dead drop, bring it to his ship, and go deliver it to his contact for payment, then come on home.

What he didn't anticipate? Was the pack of gutkurr that ambushed he and BB-8, his droid companion after they spent almost a full day digging up the concealed cache.

The large carnivorous insects ambushed them on the way out of a rocky canyon bend, jumping from the well-camouflaged crevices they concealed themselves in and onto the speeder he'd paid next to nothing for.

It was a junker, for sure, but the fuel cells and thrusters were good enough to do the trip he needed it for. He wouldn't be able to fit his ship into these narrow twists and turns even if he tried.

Maybe if he had his X-Wing, but that would have been too high-profile for this run, which is why he had to settle for a simple, tiny cargo freighter.

But while on the ground he needed something more maneuverable. Hence that kriffing speeder.

As soon as one of the gutkurr landed on the hood, the thin metal folded in, the inner workings of the speeder sputtering and erupting into smoke as the sickle-like claws of the creature dug into the metal for better security as it snapped its jaws in Poe's direction.

He had to bob and tip away and try to see around the animal, while BB-8 shocked it if it got too close to Poe. Always his best sidekick, that droid was his partner in crime.

But try as the little droid might, he just was no match when the speedier just died, unable to take the strain anymore as the electrical system short-circuited and send sparks of light arcing every which way, sending the droid's head spinning with a high pitched "beep-wheeeeep!" before completely stilling.

The nose of the speeder was forced down, digging a gouge of dry craggy soil until it pitched forward because of the sheer weight in the front from Poe, the gutkurr, and the cases of cargo strapped to the sides.

Poe was sent flying through the air, just narrowly dodging the snapping maw of the gutkurr as it rolled back to its feet, a piece of jagged metal jabbing into its flesh where the natural armor plating had gapped.

Poe spun around, both blasters drawn as the rest of the pack caught up, salivating at the prospect of a fresh meal.

A big, handsome, juicy one, if Poe actually had to brag about it.

He'd tried to fire at them, but his blaster bolts simply bounced right off their thick carapaces.

Kriff.

He fired again, and once more the red bolts fizzed off the shells and into the canyon walls, sending shards of chalky rock and dust raining down on them.

"Kriff!"

There were three of them.

Three of them versus one of him. It may have been a bit more even had BB-8 not been fried by the overload to his system, but right now it was down to just what little he had on him to fight. And it wasn't much. He had a few grenades... but were they enough to get through their carapaces when his blaster couldn't?

The creatures all hissed as they slowly advanced on him, snapping their maws and growling deeply to intimidate him into turning and running away, just so they could strike at him from behind.

Poe was reckless, but not stupid.

Okay, well maybe there was that one time on Corellia, but--

He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he slowly put one foot in after the other, backing away as carefully as possible with no sudden movements.

"Okay, buglies... Easy, there..." Poe said gently to them, his dark eyes darting around frantically for an out.

Firing his blasters was pointless, it bounced right off the ugly shells--

Wait.

His eyes quickly raked up the sides of the craggy rocks towering on either side of them. Maybe...

Ah... screw it.

Poe backed further from the speeder, leading the nasties away from his downed speeder and best pal.

If he timed it right... Then maybe he could pull this trick off.

"Come on, that's it... come get a nice juicy bite of some Dameron steak..." He continued to talk to himself as his hand slowly lowered his other blaster, letting it hang loosely from the worn leather strap. His fingers deftly found their way to the round objects in one of the pockets of his belt and he pulled one out, his thumb flicking the arming switch.

His feet moved beneath him in a blur.

In a second he was able to toss a grenade at the feet of one of the gutkurr, the creatures snarling and hissing at the object before it detonated, sending shards up through the softer shell of the underbelly through one of them, killing the creature with a thunderous boom and crack as the carapace gave way beneath the force of the explosion.

Poe had thrown himself backwards as the explosion tossed one of the remaining two insectoids against the canyon wall, disorienting it as the other lunged for Poe, snatching his leg between his jaws and crunching down.

Either the gutkurr didn't intend to rip his leg off or it was knocked off its senses by the blast, he didn't know. The searing pain as the animal's fangs shredded through his leather boot and ripped into his skin, sending hot gushes of bright red blood out onto the yellowish sand below.

Poe cried out, gritting his teeth and blinking back tears as he raised his blaster again, this time pressing the barrel straight against the eye of the beast; the white-hot bolt burning right through to the brain, killing it with a double-tap of the trigger.

Once it slumped to the side, Poe scrambled away once more, grabbing another grenade from his pouch and tossing it to the last surviving gutkurr.

He rolled into his side and covered his head as it detonated, sending chunks of rock crumbling from the canyon walls, falling and crushing the gutkurr beneath the weight of the stones.

Once the dust cleared, Poe laid back in the sand and heaved heavy breaths, sweat soaking his clothes as the adrenaline coursed through his body.

He managed to force himself to his feet and hobble back to his crashed speeder. His first action was to pull BB-8 free from the socket and proceed to check him over.

Upon seeing the scorch marks, Poe's brows pinched up and his heart fluttered.

"Oh, buddy..." He breathed as he leaned in, pressing his forehead to what would be the spherical droid's face.

"Don't worry," He promised. "I'll get us out of here. And then... we're getting the hell off of Ryloth."

Poe carefully set his droid pal to the side and began scrambling for his medical kit.

When he found the busted metal tin, he cringed when he saw the contents. One singular bacta patch and a bunch of bandages.

Seriously? What had he been thinking! The General told him he needed to keep a fully stocked kit on him, but did he listen? Noooooo.

"C'mon, General. It's me." Poe grinned at her. "How often do I get shot?"

She pursed her slightly wrinkled lips and crossed her arms, her brow quirking upwards skeptically, her bright beautiful brown eyes locking with his own.

"Do you want me to count on both hands or use my toes, too? Because I'd still run out if I tried to count."

Damn, the woman had been right. Again. He had half a mind to wonder if she didn't see a vision of him getting shot before this run, and reminded him solely because of that.

He read in a holo once that Jedi could use the Force to heal wounds, and he was currently fresh out of Jedi.

The throb in his leg sent fresh tears surging up to dew on the edges of his eyelashes as he dropped down.

Taking a piece of the cargo mounting that had broken off during the crash, Poe used his knife in his other boot to slice the remainders of his pants leg away and carefully toe'd the boot off his foot so he could better assess the damage.

And yeah, it was bad. He needed a medical droid or some kinda doctor, fast. With how bad the lacerations to the flesh and muscle, infection would be a death sentence. From a simple glance, even he could tell his tibial and fibular arteries weren't damaged (thank the Force) because of the gaps that were between the gutkurr's fangs.

But the force of the bite alone at least fractured his tibia, maybe even broke his ankle.

Kriff.

Poe ripped the foil packet containing the pitifully tiny bacta patch and pressed it down over the biggest hole in his leg.

Hell, if it couldn't fix it all, it was better it fix some than none.

He winced as the cold gel touched the open wound, and rifling through the kit once more provided him with some much-needed sterile gauze. No antibacterial gel however, so the risk of infection was still there. Especially from the saliva of that nasty critter alone.

"Beggars can't be choosers, Poe..." He grunted to himself as he broke another loose piece of metal from the cargo mounting and lined them both up, struggling to wrap them as tight as possible on either side of his leg so he could make a field splint.

He gripped the sides of his speeder and groaned as he felt his adrenaline wane as he looked at the wreckage.

Well... now he had another problem.

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By another graced miracle, Poe was able to create a sled that he was able to drop the crates of cargo onto, as well as his precious droid friend.

After he stashed and concealed the cargo in a small cave, Poe took stock of what little provisions he had, which consisted of some pre-packaged meals and two or three water capsules.

Barely enough to survive long; but, he remembered the way out of the canyon. There was a forest or a jungle on the fringes of the desert, not far from where he'd come in... Maybe he'd have a better chance of surviving. Maybe...

Poe talked to BB-8 as he dragged the offline droid behind him on the sled, murmuring stupid jokes and ideas about the shenanigans they'd get up to once they were home free. And about the ear-bending lectures the General would give him.

He realized though, after two days, that he was hopelessly, terribly lost. His water was running low, his food rations were okay because of the portions he limited himself to, but once the fever set in, the logical side of Poe's brain told him he was going to die an inglorious death in the middle of nowhere, thanks to a bum leg and a bacta patch that did a piss poor job.

Poe kept going until he lost track of time, walking on and on until he collapsed, face first into his own tracks, shortly lamenting his own life choices as he drifted from the conscious world.

Man, did the universe have a twisted sense of kriffing humor.

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It was a simple day for you. You were on your way back from picking clean a crashed Republic-Era ship for parts to bring back home to improve some of your farming equipment. Maybe you could catch some spare credits to stash in your emergency pouch beneath the floorboards in your bedroom.

Your blurrg, Kari, crooned deeply as she pawed at the rocky sand with her stumpy legs. You sighed, adjusting your sun visor back down to shield your eyes from the harsh light of your homeworld's star. It was an unusually clear day for this time of year, and the sun was especially unforgiving. You couldn't wait to get into the safety of the treeline and back to your meager little farm in the forest.

"C'mon, Kari. The sooner we can get home, the sooner I can get this cart off you." You say, leaning down to pat her, one of your lekku falling over your shoulder to dangle down, the tip curling slightly.

Sometimes you envied how humans could cut their hair, but if you cut your lekku, you were as good as handicapped, with how sensitive yours were to touch. Yeah, your head-tails were longer than average, and irritating, but hey, they were yours.

The sun gleamed off your sweat-soaked skin beneath your fatigues as you nudged Kari with your heel in the stirrup to get her to continue moving.

But once again, the stubborn she-beast refused to move, rumbling deeply in protest as she shook her stubby little head.

You grit your teeth and squint against the harsh sun, and that's when you see it. Your other animal companion, a can-cell, Cviki, circling overhead, his iridescent wings fluttering against the updrafts, the sun glimmering off his bright blue-green carapace as he made another aerial pass.

You frowned. There should be nothing in that canyon except the roving pack of scavenging gutkurr you have long known to avoid. Growing up in Ryloth, you knew Twi'leks were tasty snacks for the large insectoids. So why was Cviki circling like something interesting was there? There couldn't possibly be people, even the smartest smugglers knew it was dangerous in those canyons, all the locals avoided them with good reason.

You click your tongue and jerk the reins, "Alright, ma sareen. We'll go see what has you both so interested."

You bring your fingers to your lips and make a high-pitched whistle. The tune Cviki understood as "I'm coming, be careful" since you'd raised him from a larvae.

Maybe whatever was in the canyon was worth some credits in salvage?

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You carefully marked your path into the narrow canyon as Cviki led you from above, knowing full well not marking your trail was a death wish to the unprepared.

But you were anything but unprepared.

Your lekku flopping in the breeze as Kari galloped through and in-between the canyon walls, you make an audible gasp as you yank the reins on Kari's harness, squeezing your feet instinctively in a command to stop.

A crashed speeder of some sort (honestly it probably looked better in the ground than when it was running) and the rotting corpses of three gutkurr lay in the craggy soil, smaller scavengers already hard at work picking the remains clean.

Living gutkurr smelled bad enough, but their dessicated corpses were horrible.

You dismounted Kari, patting her flank as you walked by, pulling your long blaster rifle from its sling low on your hips as you carefully walked around the wreckage, poking the twisted metal with the barrel of your rifle just in case.

Upon further inspection, you see nothing of value. Not even the droid that was surely busted judging from the scorch marks in the docking port.

Damn shame. A droid was just the thing you were missing to help out on your farm. Parts from whatever droid had been docked there really would have helped finish up the one you had in pieces back in your workshop.

Oh, well...

You kept looking around, noting that there was not only no sign of a droid, but no sign of the pilot of the speeder. You shoulder your rifle again and kneel down, touching the soul with your fingertips as you study the boot prints that had almost been fully covered by the drifting sands.

"Ah, hells." You mutter as you stand. Some poor fool had been sent on a fool's errand by some smuggler.

You turn, pushing your other lekku back over your shoulder as you whistle for Kari to approach. Cviki had stopped his flying to stick to one of the rocky walls, chittering down at you curiously.

You snap your fingers as you mount your blurrg once again, and whistle sharply at Cviki.

"Wachamio!" You shout up at him in Ryl, pointing down the canyon. "Let's go see if that poor sod is still breathing!"

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Yeah, he was breathing all right. Breathing and feverish. Hell, when you caught up to Cviki you had to swat at his beak when he picked up the human man's uninjured leg in his mouth and tugged, playfully trying to see if he would play.

Yeah... he was the guy who fought those gutkurr, all right. He got damned lucky.

"Oh, kriff." You sighed, kneeling next to him as he weakly swatted at you, his eyes dry and crusted closed. You could tell by the sweat and mucus that he was battling an infection, most likely from the deep injury to his leg. He probably got bit by that gutkurr; everyone knew to immediately disinfect any bites--if you survived an encounter with a gutkurr that is--because of the bacteria that lived in gutkurr saliva. It was a death sentence to anyone without proper medical supplies.

And when you'd looked inside of the medical kit at the wreckage, you could see he had none.

'Equal parts desperate and lucky.' You think to yourself as you effortlessly (and gently) wipe the crust from his eyes.

"Nu nala quin-nala wilo?" You ask him.

"Whuh--?" He rasped, his lips cracked and split from dehydration.

You roll your eyes with slight exasperation. The man was delirious, of course he wouldn't be able to understand you right now. And, for all you knew, he couldn't even speak Ryl.

"I'm going. To help. Youuuuu." You emphasize slowly and loudly in Basic as his head rolls around and he mumbles incoherently.

"Ugh, you better be worth it." You grunt, whistling for Kari to come closer so the cart was next to you.

Kriff, that man was all dead weight, you felt your muscles strain as you dragged him onto the cart that was still hooked to Kari. You had to shove your meager salvage off to the side to make room for him and his little BB-model astromech.

At least it wasn't a total bust, if this guy died, maybe you could get his droid back up and running to work for you. But those were thoughts for later.

Right now you had some dumb human to lug back home and try to save.

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Ugh... The only thing Poe knew was that he hurt. He hurt worse than that time he was tackled by that besalisk in that one cantina...

A drunken dare, mind you, but he still got flattened by the man's weight alone. There was still probably a dent in that cantina wall to this very day.

His head pounded, but he managed to drag his eyes open and force himself up with his palms.

His muscles ached and his skin hurt. He was shirtless and dressed down all the way to his undergarments.

Poe dropped back onto the bed he was resting on. It was comfortable, very much so; much more than the bunks on the ships and in the barracks he'd been hopping to and from the past few years.

So someone had saved his stupid kriffing ass, but he couldn't remember anything concrete.

He dropped his hand onto his forehead, the skin on his body peeling and flaking away as the sunburn healed; thinking back hard.

The last thing he remembered was his vision clearing somewhat, and then a bright light.

Wait...

He remembered a voice. A woman's voice, talking in a language he wasn't sure he was familiar with.

"Man... must've been an angel..." He chuckled sardonically, his voice cracked and throat dry.

Poe winced and looked to the bedside, seeing a glass of water next to him on the small table. Instinctively, he grabbed it and chugged it faster than a pint of cheap weequay beer.

By the Force, it felt amazing to finally have something wet his parched throat.

He turned his head when he heard whirring and a rolling sound approach the room, and a grin broke out on his face as the curtain was pushed open and a certain round little astromech rolled into the room with him.

"Aw, I knew I'd recognize the sound of those servos anywhere! BB! C'mere, you little--" He grunted, rolling off the bed and biting hit bottom lip as his injured leg hit the wooden floor.

BB-8 made several high pitched beeps and whirs in a chastising manner.

"I know, I know, but c'mere, you little cannonball!" Poe laughed through the pain, wrapping his thick arms around the round little droid as he trilled happily at his companion's better spirits.

BB-8 chirped and beeped again.

"Oh, my leg? It hurts like hell, where are we?" Poe asked, looking around. This was clearly somebody's bedroom, in some kind of small, prefab house that had been patched many times over. Probably purchased at a scrap yard. Hah. Like that kriffing speeder he wasted his credits on.

BB-8 whirred as he rolled about the room, making various noises as he explained to his human friend the situation.

"An infection?" His thick brows shot up. "Damn. Please tell me I looked beautiful when I went down?"

BB-8 stopped dead in his tracks, and the only part of him that moved was his head, and he made a few beeps.

"Okay yeah I knew you were out, it was rhetorical. Who do you think dragged you through that canyon?" Poe sighed, shaking his head, his sweaty curls dangling.

BB-8 tweeted in reply.

"A woman? Wait, so I wasn't hallucinating that part?" Poe blinked at the tiny droid as he wheeled his way up to him once more, bumping into him a few times affectionately.

"Okay, yeah, I get it. I owe the lady. Definitely owe her if she fixed you up, little buddy." Poe smiled warmly, patting the droid's chassis sweetly.

He was so caught up in the reunion with his partner that he almost jumped out of his skin when heavy bootsteps halted in the doorway and the curtain was pulled back, revealing... you.

Hot, gorgeous, sweaty and badass you. You were covered in grime and dirt from working the field you had and fixing your tiller that had crapped out on you. Hot damn, you were probably the hottest Twi'lek he'd ever seen, even your head-tails looked absolutely luscious.

You had initially sent BB-8 inside to fetch a tool, and when he hadn't returned you came inside to see why.

You tugged off your rawhide gloves and leaned in the doorway, smirking at the human as you shoved your gloves into the waistband of your pulled-down coveralls.

'C'mon Poe, put on the charm...' He chastised himself.

He cleared his throat and gave you his best debonair smile along with his signature quirked brow and squinted eyes; the smile that had won him the companionship from many women (and guys and others in-between) throughout the galaxy.

But he couldn't fathom the fact that he looked positively pathetic with a kriffed up leg, lying half-naked on your bedroom floor.

That is... until you broke out laughing, and BB-8 spun in a circle, joining in on your revelry at his attempt at flirtation.

Poe sighed deeply, dropping his cocky expression. "Eh, so... Uh... you're the lady who I remember from the canyon, right?"

You nod, your lekku quivering from within the soft leather quiver you'd bound them in, "Yana."

Poe blinked up at you. You did speak Basic just then, right? His hearing just messed up for a second? Right...

"So, on behalf of... well, me and my little friend here, thank you for saving us!" He grins awkwardly. "What's your name, miss..?"

You smirk again and utter something, your name, perhaps? And then ask, "Zul nala z'rate nala quora?"

BB-8 speaks to you for Poe when he doesn't answer, merely giving you a concerned look as he began to fear he was stuck with a woman who didn't speak Basic. He really needs to brush up on his xeno-linguistics...

You click your tongue and shake your head, "Su'un na, mesh'e yahte." You roll your eyes and tip your head to the side and tell him your name, this time clearly.

"Oh, man, am I happy you can understand me." Poe grinned. "Uh... Can you... help me off the floor? Please?"

"Yahte." You sigh deeply, walking over to him.

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The man you'd saved was someone called "Poe Dameron" a supposed "master pilot" for some "resistance". When Poe mentioned your skills as a medic and your ability to patch droids, he even hurled the suggestion to you that you join up.

You refused.

"What? Why?" Poe asked incredulously, setting his fork down on your tiny table as you both picked at your humble meal.

"Because I saw enough fighting when the Empire remnants sacked my hometown when I was a small child. They did it out of sheer spite for General Syndulla's role in the destruction of the last Death Star. I lost both of my parents, I lost my grandmother. If it wasn't for Numa saving me from the rubble I would have had nothing." You say, your lekku trembling at the memory of your home being blasted to smithereens.

Poe wilted. The two of you were close in age, the two of you were young enough and old enough to remember the Death Star, the war, the people you loved...

And, yeah, he understood your reasoning. Why get swallowed up by the war that devoured your family in front of you, when you can be a hermit, farming healing herbs and delivering produce and salted meats to one of the smaller towns further north?

"Okay... I'm sorry." Poe said, his eyes downcast as his own sour memories played back in his mind.

"No, no..." You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I shouldn't have blown up on you like that. Kriff, I swear, living in the woods shortens my temper."

Poe smiled at you and stretched out his leg beneath the table, the brace you'd rigged up for him squeaking as he bent his knee.

"How's the leg?" You pipe in.

"Oh, it's definitely better. Whatever kinda magic plants you got, they're certainly doing the trick!" Poe grinned at you.

"It's not magic. It's just natural medicine." You waved your fork at him. "And don't forget, you owe me for using half my stash of bacta to help fix your leg. You still got a few weeks to pay off that debt to me, Mor'ski."

Poe held up his hands innocently, grinning sideways at you. "Heyyy... I'm a man of my word! And the deadline on that shipment is... Well it technically doesn't have one."

"Did you ever think that it didn't have one because your contact knew sending people into those canyons was a death sentence? Because they knew odds of one person surviving in that canyon were like, maybe 2 to 20?" You snort. "Sounds to me that the people who hired you have been feeding people to the gutkurrs until somebody could finally nab that cache."

Poe blinked and you could easily tell that the thought had never crossed his mind.

Yahte.

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"Careful, Mor'ski." You snort, leaning on the fence as Kari bucks Poe off her saddle once again; before shuffling on to drink from her trough. BB-8 makes loud beeping and trilling as he spins in a circle, enjoying some humor at Poe's expense.

"Ugh!" Poe groaned.

Kari huffed and made a short bellow, trotting back around to nudge Poe with her flat snout.

Poe pats her as he sits up, "Okay, you like me but not enough for me to ride you? I mean I knew my charm worked on the ladies, but c'mon, I can't even stay on you for five seconds!"

"That's because I've raised her almost directly from birth, Poe." You grin victoriously before clicking your teeth, uttering a few words in Ryl before Kari abandons Poe altogether to rush up to you for affection.

"That's it, ma sareen." You coo at her.

"Uhh!" Poe scoffs as he stands up, dusting off the old worn pants you'd loaned him, his leg brace creaking as he walked over to you.

The damage Poe had sustained to his leg from the gutkurr was bad. Bad enough that even your small stash of bacta patches (some of which were probably past their best by date...) couldn't heal all the damage or regenerate properly. Or perhaps it was from the bacteria eating away at his flesh when you found him. You weren't sure, but the man would walk with a slight gait for the rest of his life.

But of course, knowing Poe, he would use it to his advantage just to cock his hips out to get some attention.

You were almost gonna miss that idiot when he was well enough to leave, and his cute little droid, too. It was nice to have company after so long alone.

"Well what about him?" Poe asked, pointing to Cviki, who had just plucked a fruit from a nearby tree and ate it messily. "I bet I could ride him!"

You laugh and smack your thigh, "Oh, be my guest! But remember, Mor'ski: Cviki is a can-cell. Not a fighter. If he decides he doesn't want you in the pilot seat anymore..."

Poe swallowed a bit nervously.

Maybe he should stick with the blurrg.

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Three weeks had gone by, and you knew Poe leaving was inevitable. He had finally done away with the leg brace and you inspected his healing leg. It was coming along nicely. It would scar, for sure, but he'd be able to walk.

And you were right, before. He did walk with a gait, one he carried with confidence in combination with that aggravatingly handsome smirk of his.

Could this man find a dark side in anything? Other than the First Order? You doubted it, he seemed good at turning bad situations around.

And oh, you would miss listening to Poe dote on that cute little astromech, BB-8. He was like a father doting on his infant child. You even caught him scooping him up and carrying him if BB-8 couldn't flawlessly roll over something (though BB probably pretended he couldn't just to be picked up by Poe).

It's a wonder that droid got anything done at all! You remember when you first brought him online and he assumed you were some nefarious individual who had hurt his pilot and friend.

It wasn't until you physically brought the astromech in to see the unconscious and feverish Poe to earn that little droid's trust. With BB-8's know-how, you were able to fix a few systems in your own defunct protocol droid that you honestly assumed you'd have to fully replace, making it that much cheaper to get the old droid up and running. Once they left, anyway. You weren't in a rush to have the help anymore. You liked having Poe around, his stupid snarky comments and weird giggle of his...

And you'd be lying if you didn't catch yourself staring, sometimes, too when he was working on helping with your monthly harvest.

He was skinny from lack of decent rations, when you brought him in, but after being with you for a few weeks, getting a proper diet and food in him, he bulked up.

He was muscular, sure, but not that almost scarily-defined tone so many found attractive. Poe's figure had softened out around his muscles, giving his belly a slight pooch and the dimples on his back to become more prominent. The softness was certainly appealing...

He looked handsome healthy.

Why did you just think that? Why did you just--

Your hands stopped as you tied down your equipment for the coming storm system that was approaching from the north, and you looked up to observe Poe for a moment.

Poe was busy helping cover your younger plants so they could survive the tough winds. He'd even helped corral Cviki into his créche so he wouldn't get injured. As thick as his carapace was, all it would take was one piece of debris to shred his wings and he could risk being permanently grounded.

Cviki seemed to socialize with Poe rather well, chittering and purring when Poe would pat his bulbous head, his wings fluttering curiously and excitedly when Poe would launch a small branch in the air for him to fetch and bring back.

Poe was a masterful pilot--if his words were to be believed--but something inside you told him he was also suited for a calmer life. Like yours, running a farm, taking care of the animals; not fighting in a near-pointless cycle you couldn't understand.

But, it was his choice to make, and his life to live. And nobody in the galaxy could take it from him.

But little did you know, that you were already tempting him to...

You rushed then, to tighten the wenches on the equipment bindings as Poe covered the fresh plants, grunting as the wind tousled his hair into his face and struggled to get the tarps down.

You look up at the sky and frown when the angry and flashing storm clouds approach faster than anticipated. It could be a short, fast-moving storm, that was the hope.

But you were worried. If the clouds began to circle...

At least you had a cellar.

"Poe! Come on! The plants are covered!" You wince when a small twig is caught in the wind and smacks into one of your lekku as the wind pushes them about. You forgot to wear your sheath today and were paying for it.

"You sure?" He called out to you.

"Yeah! Trust me, I'm sure! Now we need to get inside before the main storm hits!" You wave your hand. "Wachamio!"

Poe took the spare second to slam the mallet down on the stake for one last measure, before hopping to his feet, BB-8 chirping and tweeting from the threshold of your door, urging you both to hurry up.

Once inside, you quickly spin around and use the metal bar and slot it into place so the door wouldn't blow inwards on you; all your windows had been properly covered and locked with the metal panels so they wouldn't get blown in as well.

Not one moment later, you begin to hear the first fat raindrops pelt the walls and roof of your home from outside, deep rolling thunder announcing the arrival.

"Well, uh... You ever play sabacc?" Poe grinned awkwardly, and you slowly grinned.

BB-8 made a sound that could be universally translated in any language as: "I've got a bad feeling about this."

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It was just downright unfair. Clearly the universe did not favor him, or his hands at this sabacc game...

He was down to his socks and underwear while you were confidently sitting across the table, the only things missing from your outfit was your shirt, leaving you in your breastband only from the waist up, showing off the small scars and loosely defined muscles from your hard-working lifestyle poking through the light softness of your body.

You lean in as you see him begin to sweat, frowning at the cards in his hand. You'd both agreed on a simple game of sabacc, but because there were no credits to be put in the pot, you both settled on your clothes as the storm waxed and waned outside, rattling the walls and making his ears pop. He wondered how the sensitive little cones that were your sensory organs felt in the storm. Could ear-cones pop? It was a thought for another time.

"What's the matter, Mor'ski?" You rest your chin in your palm, grinning like a firaxan shark.

"...Afraid you can't bring much to the table?"

Oh, that was a low blow. He could feel the blush rise in his neck as his face heated up.

"Hah! Please, I doubt you could handle aaaallll this." Poe sputtered as he leaned back and huffed, forcing his confident demeanor back to the surface.

"Oh, I d'nno... I've probably handled farming equipment that was bigger." You toss back, moving a fresh pick between your lips and teeth as you boredly thumb through your cards.

"...Okay now you're just being mean."

"Hmm..." You look back up at him, a cold smile on your soft-looking lips. Poe felt a cold shiver creep up his spine when you looked at him.

And it was even worse when you flattened your cards on the table.

"Pure sabacc."

"Kriff!" Poe groaned, slapping his own bad hand on the table and pushing his hand through his curls.

"Oh, come on! I'm down to my skivvies, here!" He whined.

"Oh, I know." You giggle, batting your eyelashes at him and your lekku curl upwards a bit. "I'm not planning on making you completely strip. I'm feeling merciful..." You purred.

"...What are you planning?"

"The storm's let up a bit for now..." You hum casually, tapping your fingers on the top of your worn wooden table.

Poe blinked at you, his eyebrows raised up on his forehead. "No way..."

"One solid minute." You say, sticking your finger up. "Run around in the rain for one solid minute."

"Oh, come on!" Poe groaned, slapping his fist on the table.

BB-8 chirped and spun in a circle, almost laughing.

"Oh, whose side are you on?!" Poe glared at the droid with a scowl.

BB-8 whistled and wheeled over to your side, beeping and whirring in reply, making you grin even wider.

"You said you're a man of your word, Dameron..." You chuckle.

"....Agh! Kriff, why are women like this?!" Poe groaned, scrambling his hands through his raven curls.

"A bet's a bet..."

"Fine!" Poe scoffed, shooting to his feet and marching over to the front door, where your boots both lay.

He grumbled under his breath the whole time as he shoved his feet into them. Ah, well, at least the view from behind was nice...

You bite your lip as he pulls the metal bar free and the door rattles from the sudden gust of wind. Poe grabs the latch and it takes most of his strength to keep it from swinging open.

Oh, the moment he darted out into the freezing rain was glorious. The yelp he made as the first freezing drops made contact with his skin had you squirming and cackling madly as you clapped your hands and stamped your feet excitedly, BB-8 spinning in place and tweeting loudly.

He ran in a circle with his arms held out wide, shouting expletives the whole time as bumps erupted all over his body as his boots squished in the mud.

Once the minute was over with, Poe scurried back inside, soaked to the bone and shivering, his teeth chattering as he looked at you.

"Happy...?" Poe grunted.

"Very much so." You giggle girlishly.

"Good because I'm never playing sabacc with you again."

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You both sat on the fence, watching as Kari ate from her feed trough, bellowing in between bites, her thick tail swaying as she eats.

"So..." Poe began.

"Hm?" You mused, spitting the weed from between your teeth.

"I still have that cache hidden in the canyon... I mean, I know you've already helped me out and everything but..."

You quirk your brow inquisitively. "You want me to help you transport it to the spaceport."

"...Well. Okay, I mean... Eh. Yeah..?" He said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't have a mode of transportation or anything, and... I can give you a cut?"

You slowly look at him, blinking. "You'd pay me to help?"

"Yeah! I don't see why not... Plus it'll help pay back and replace the bacta patches I used... Might help pay for parts for that droid of yours..."

Your teeth gnaw at the inside of your cheek, thinking hard as you look down at the mud. He made some good points... He has no ride, he still needs those credits or his near death would have been for nothing...

And those credits really could help you out.

"Okay, Mor'ski. I'm in." You reply, slapping your palm into his.

Poe grinned and gave your hand a firm tug.

"Knew you would be, doll. Now let's get to it."

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You watched as Poe slid the last crate into the cart next to BB-8, fastening them down with wench straps so nothing moved. There had been no sign of gutkurrs since the two of you returned to the canyon, but that's also probably from the musk bombs you made to irritate their sense of smell.

Maybe if he'd hired a local guide through the canyons he wouldn't have gotten so screwed in the first place.

But if he did, he wouldn't have met you.

Hindsight is... well. A funny thing when you think about it.

"Do you even know what's in those crates?" You ask him as you mount Kari's saddle.

"Eh... no." Poe cringed.

"Did you ever think to check??" You frown at him.

Poe's gloved hands pat the crate in front of him, and even BB-8 whirs curiously.

"Ryloth is known for its spice production, Poe..." You sigh softly. "Interspace gangs like to use it for drugs, remember?"

"Yeah..." He said, gnawing on his bottom lip.

Screw it.

He popped the latches and peeked into the crate.

There were different objects, all bearing the sigil of the old Empire. Poe felt his blood run cold as he tossed the lid completely open, and began rifling through it.

Several objects had the Empire logo scratched out, some had them painted over. It was clear this cache no longer belonged to them, but...

"What is it?" You ask him.

"...A bunch of old Empire junk. The weapons are pretty much useless, their cells are drained. There's a few other things in here, but... They look like they'd only be useful to a damn collector than anybody of importance." Poe said, his body relaxed slightly. Nothing really dangerous were in these crates...

Except.

"Holy kriff." He breathed, reaching down to a small wooden box. It was half a foot long, and surprisingly, there was an image burned into the lid. A symbol he knew well as a young man, scrawled and graffiti'd on many Empire propaganda posters.

The symbol of the Jedi Order.

"What?" You asked, turning to look at him.

Poe reached in and pulled out a lightsaber. Its once shiny metal surface scuffed and dented, the black tips at the end of the handle flaked of paint, the clip snapped long ago. This lightsaber had been through hell, and had probably even seen action as far back as the Clone Wars...

"Is... Is that..." You stumble.

"A kriffing lightsaber." Poe said reverently. He slowly and carefully set the lightsaber back inside the velvet lined box, closing it and gently placing it back inside the crate.

"Nothing in here is dangerous, except the lightsaber, maybe. But nobody really knows how to use these except..."

"Jedi and Sith." You murmur. "Who would want that stuff if it's useless?"

"Like I said, a collector maybe. Or a dealer in war relics." Poe said, closing the crate again.

"Poe..."

"I know, but c'mon... Let's get going while we still got the sun."

"Right." You say slowly. You pat Kari's flank and jerk your head. "Get on, Mor'ski. We got at least a two hours' ride ahead of us."

Poe seemed wary. He'd ridden in the cart the whole trek out here, and all the failed attempts to ride that blurrg of yours made him hesitant to hop on her.

"Relax, if I'm riding with you, she'll be fine. Unless you wanna ride Cviki?" You smile wryly, the both of you looking up to where Cviki was poking at the rocks with his beak, his mandibles picking up smaller insectoids to munch on here and there.

"...No I'm good." He looked back at you as he stepped up to Kari's side.

As he grabbed onto your open palm with his, he looked at you with curiosity in his dark eyes.

"You good yourself, crazy lady?" He jabbed playfully.

"Rahn fanyo. Er... I'm fine." You mumble as he takes his seat behind you, politely placing his hands on your waist.

It was a gentlemanly thing to do, to avoid grabbing anything he shouldn't... but once Kari got into a good and decent trot, he'd bounce off her haunches faster than a blood fly.

"Poe, you're gonna need to hold on tighter than that. Or I'm gonna leave you in the dust and collect this bounty myself..."

Poe chuckled and awkwardly looped his arms around your waist, carefully adjusting it so your sensitive lekku were draped over his shoulders, so he couldn't squish them on accident.

"Like this?"

You rolled your eyes and tugged his hands until they were almost clasped together and his chin was practically on your shoulder. "There. Because being polite while riding a blurrg is gonna get you a concussion, yahte."

"Okay, you gotta teach me Ryl, doll." Poe chuckled.

You smirked over your shoulder as you snapped Kari's reins, nudging her with your heels.

"That would ruin the fun, Mor'ski."

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You watched as a group of children fed Cviki fruit out of their palms, giggling and laughing when his long tongue unfurled to wrap around their fingers and clean their hands of any lingering juices left over. Cviki was very approachable, for a cen-cell.

Kari on the other hand... She didn't really like anybody other than you. And, well, maybe Poe now, you supposed.

You sighed as you watched Poe speak with his contact, a rather fat Twi'lek man who was obviously well off. A broker, you supposed. One who sets up people with jobs like these. Technically avoiding any trouble with the law because brokers around these parts were simply like bulletin boards for smugglers, you could pick what jobs they conveniently had around, and if you got in trouble, they could disavow any connections to you while still making decent credits.

And it was obviously a very good front he was wearing, judging by the bejeweled rings squished onto the man's fat fingers.

When the two began walking over to you, you groaned softly, Kari huffing when she sensed your irritation. You detested people walking up to you when you didn't want to talk.

Your emotions were high for reasons you couldn't quite place, and a feeling of anxiety gnawed in the pit of your stomach.

Poe was leaving.

Soon, he would load the cargo onto this broker's ship and he would leave Ryloth, possibly forever. You couldn't blame him, after almost getting turned into a tasty snack for a pack of gutkurrs.

"And this lovely woman must be the person who saved your skin, eh, Dameron?" The Twi'lek man chortled, his fat jiggling merrily as he elbowed Poe in the side.

His thin mouth was stretched wide, making his cheeks appear even larger and more plump, his bright yellow skin drawing little attention to his sharp teeth.

"Yep, my savior all right. Worked me right to the bone to pay back half my debt to her after those ugly bugs tried to snack on me." Poe grinned back.

"My my, sounds like a keeper!" The man smirked suggestively at you two.

You rolled your eyes and curled your lekku slightly. The gesture was hidden behind you, but anyone walking by could see the irritation and hostility in the gesture.

Men have tried to get your attention for years, and certainly, a man of status like this was always looking for aides or escorts of some kind. That life wasn't for you, not one tiny bit.

"She's.... Uh. A good friend." Poe said, smiling at you.

His soft eyes eased the tension in you somewhat, but you were still jittery and anxious. One, about Poe leaving; two, all the people bustling about the spaceport; and three, these confusing kriffing feelings regarding the quirky pilot.

The Twi'lek man handed Poe a small box, likely containing his payment, and BB-8 drove into his shins twice.

"I know, I know, buddy! I was getting to that!" Poe sighed exasperatedly at the astromech.

"I'll make sure the dock officials don't snoop, say our goodbyes." The broker winked as he turned to walk away.

"So..." Poe awkwardly began.

"Mhm." You hum.

"I'm glad you dragged my sorry carcass out of that canyon." Poe chuckled, his fingers nervously brushing the sides of the box he held.

"I'm happy my effort wasn't wasted when Kari didn't eat you." You snort in reply, smiling despite yourself.

Poe laughed softly and opened the box, plucking up a few chips into his fist. He held out his hand and placed the silver and gold chips into your palm gently.

"Here. I'm a man of my word, remember?" He smiled at you warmly. "And I promised you a cut. This should cover the bacta, and some parts for that droid of yours. Plus, y'know. To get yourself somethin' nice."

When he winked, you felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you laughed.

"Yeah, well..." You shrugged, not sure what to say.

"...Hey." Poe said, his bottom lip sliding beneath his teeth for a moment before licking it.

"So, I know this is sudden, but--"

"Sir! Your ship is cleared and ready to go! You got five minutes!" A dockhand shouted from nearby, startling Kari to the point she made a concerned bellow and stumbled back a bit.

You shove the credits into your belt pouch, and coo and shush at Kari, patting her down affectionately to ease her sudden fright as Poe shouts back at the dockhand.

"Ah... Great. Fun." Poe sighed as he turned back to you, noticing how your lekku were twitching and swaying as you struggled to calm your blurrg mount.

You didn't turn back to face him, biting your plush bottom lip as you patted down Kari, trying now to calm yourself as much as her.

Poe was leaving.

Probably one of the only people you'd call "friend" was leaving, and then you'd go right back to your boring tedium from before, while he flew headlong into danger with BB-8 by his side.

You couldn't really hear him as he spoke to you, imagining just how many horrible ways he could possibly die out there, at the hands of the First Order, or some pirate scum...

You did however, become aware of how close he was when he slipped an arm around your waist and tugged you against him. You barely had time to gasp and ask what he was doing when he pressed his lips against yours in a rushed, but fiery kiss.

He pulled back from you, winking as BB-8 whirled and trilled, spinning in place a few times.

"See ya around, doll. And next time I'm in town, I'll visit."

You were left, blinking, mouth agape as he sashayed with that new gait of his towards the hangar of his ship, BB-8 hot on his heels, tweeting a farewell at you.

You stayed like that, the tips of your lekku twining around one another twice, your face flushed with a different shade as the ship shakily lifted off, blasting off into the clouds.

...If he did come back...

"Come on, Kari." You say softly before whistling to get Cviki's attention.

"Let's go get some shopping done."

Maybe you would buy yourself something nice to wear.

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Poe sighed as his ship launched into hyperspace, feeling sad as he kissed Ryloth's atmosphere goodbye. It wasn't as beautiful or as sweet as your lips were, for sure.

But it made his heart throb with sadness all the same...

He punched in a few buttons and the hologram of the broker appeared as the message began to play.

"Poe, my boy! Safe travels. I'm sure you and your companion had a lovely farewell, no?" He chuckled gleefully.

Poe rolled his eyes as he continued. "My contact got word back to me, and she's pleased that the cargo was intact and was impressed you were alive! How about that?" The man clapped his hands and laughed again.

"Well, just letting you know," His eyes twinkled. "Miss Kanata sends her thanks and hopes you enjoy the extra credits she left in your pay!"

Poe frowned at the name.

Wait... Miss Who?

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Leia watched as Poe studied the small hologram of a Twi'lek woman in front of him, squinting and mouthing the words as they left her lips.

The older woman smiled as she walked up to him, her long robes shuffling softly as her slippers padded the metal flooring of the base.

"Pick up a new language to learn, Poe?" She asked, her brown eyes shimmering as she sat next to him.

Poe almost jumped, unusually engrossed in the tutorial program he had been watching. He bashfully rubbed the back of his neck and laughed.

"You could say that." He replied.

"I noticed you walking with a limp, now, Poe." Her tone switched to a more affectionate and maternal tone. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah... Someone on Ryloth saved my hide from a bad sitch. Unfortunately I'm probably gonna be stuck with it forever, but I'd trade a limp for my life any day of the week." He grinned.

Leia hummed with a sweet smile as her eyes were drawn to the paused tutorial. "Fall in love with the local flavor, huh?" She grinned mischievously.

Poe stiffened and coughed into his hand, a blush to his cheeks.

"You... Could say that."

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Twi'leki/Ryl translation:

Wachamio! = "Let's go!"

Ma sareen = "My Sweet"

Yana = "Yes"

Wa-janeel = "Follow me"

Rahn fanyo = "I'm fine" or, alternatively, "Don't worry"

Twi'leki/Ryl Phrases I've smacked together/come up with (idk I'm not a linguist):

Nu nala quin-nala wilo? = "Do you know where you are?"

Zul nala z'rate nala quora? = "Can you tell me your name?"

Su'un na, mesh'e yahte. = "Oh great, he's an idiot."

Yahte = "Idiot"

Mor'ski = "Flyboy"

[djarinsphere]

The help of a stranger | Din Djarin

Din Djarin x female!reader

Summary: When you need it the most, a stranger is willing to help you out. The stranger becomes someone you love, but could he ever feel the same?

Warnings: mention of abuse (workplace related), canon-typical violence, angst, only partially proof-read

Words: 4.2k

A/N: This took me a while to write, but I hope all of you enjoy it. I love Din in this and I hope you do too! Lemme know what you think :)

Request | Masterlist

The Mandalorian was used to travelling alone. He wasn’t only used to it, he actually preferred it a lot. Whenever someone else was on his ship with him, it was usually a bounty and most of them were dead as soon as they entered his ship. 

But things had been different for quite a while. Since he met the little child next to him, to be precise. Grogu had turned his life around in more ways than one but even simple things like travel had become quite different. He now had a child on board with him at all times and had to care for it while also doing his job to make sure they had enough credits to get through the days. 

It would be a lie if he said he didn’t have any problems arising through this new situation. It was hard to navigate everything at the same time and still be able to do everything just as efficiently as before. That’s why he decided to finally get some help on the front of the kid at least. It was just hard to find someone suitable for that job. Someone that wasn’t going to rob him first chance they got. 

Din didn’t even know where to start with this. He wasn’t going to put an advertisement out that would say “Seeking Nanny for green child”. The thought alone made his cheeks turn red. 

It was a rather lucky incident that eventually lead him to finally find someone that would be able to care for Grogu. 

After securing another bounty on a remote jungle planet, he decided that all the canned and warmed-up food in the Razor Crest wasn’t anything they should eat today. Besides, Grogu seemed to be a lot hungrier these days, so he would allow himself and his little companion to eat something better than whatever he stored on his ship. 

The small cantina was filled with all kinds of people. Din could spot pilots from the New Republic, workers and a few people that kept their faces hidden with cloaks and masks. If he had to guess, he would have guessed that they were smugglers or bounty hunters. But smugglers was more likely.

“You’ll behave this time,” he told the green child that he carried with him. “I don’t want to cause a scene again like last time. You aren’t supposed to eat all the insects you can find.” While he had gotten rather used to Grogu’s strange eating habits, all the people around them didn’t know that the small kid could eat basically anything and that was normal. But Din found himself looking away every now and then when Grogu would put a particularly disgusting insect into his mouth. 

A waitress welcomed them shortly after they stepped through the door. She led them to a table in the back and brought a high chair for Grogu. As soon as the waitress had turned around again, hurrying off towards another table, Grogu grabbed the small salt shaker on the table and started pouring its contents into his mouth. 

Din was looking away in that moment, eyeing a table in the back where  a card game was being played, but pistols were laying on the table, clearly ready to be used. 

You were tired of working in this cantina. Your boss was just ordering you around all day, making you do even more work since the droid he had used before broke down. The work wasn’t the only problem though. It was the constant delay of your payment, the customers that were always treating you like something inferior to them and you could not stand the horrible sanitary conditions in the kitchen. And there wasn’t much possibility to change anything since your boss was always monitoring everyone and if things weren’t done the right way, or the way he wanted them, hell would be let loose. 

Today, you were serving a Mandalorian warrior and a child that looked rather strange. You had never seen his species before, but you adored his huge green ears and his adorable eyes. After bringing them a high chair, you went back behind the counter to get  a datapad ready that would display the menu. With the sleeve of your shirt, you brushed off some dust from the device’s screen, letting out a small sigh. These also needed to be overhauled. It was an old edition and you already had to explain to your boss that some of the datapads didn’t even work properly at this point. A few of them couldn’t be turned on anymore either.

When you made your way back to their table, you saw the Mandalorian looking away from his child that was emptying the salt shaker right into his mouth. “Uh-“ you started, unsure if you would be allowed to do or say something about it, but you doubted that consuming so much salt could be healthy – for anyone. 

You gently tried to take the shaker from the little kid which made his ears drop almost immediately. He looked sad, frustrated and you instantly felt bad. 

By the time you placed the salt back onto the table, the Mandalorian was looking at you. A shiver ran down your spine, in fear. You could feel your throat drying up. This cantina had seen a lot of Mandalorians already and a lot of them had been looking for trouble, oftentimes not even stopping at the staff. It was always a challenge for you to be face to face with masked Mandalorians. Or masked people in general. How were you supposed to tell if they were upset or not? How were you supposed to prevent bigger mishaps?

“I’m sorry, I-“ you started, trying to explain yourself. Maybe it had been an issue that you stopped the child from emptying the entire shaker. What did you know about little green children with huge ears? 

“No, I’m sorry. He has to learn not to touch and eat literally everything,” the stranger interrupted you, taking the salt and pepper shakers further away from the baby. 

Relief washed over you. You weren’t just happy that you didn’t upset him, but also that you didn’t cause a scene and your boss would have another reason to come after you. You were pretty sure that you were on the verge of being fired and while this place was awful, you didn’t really have anywhere else to go and finding work these days was pretty hard. Most people earned their money by hunting bounties for guilds or the New Republic, but you weren’t very skilled with any weapons. You knew how to defend yourself with a blaster in a worst case scenario, but that was about it. 

You cleared your throat eventually, handing the Mandalorian the datapad. “You can find our menu on here. I will be back soon to take your orders,” you smiled friendly, trying to get back to the safety behind the counter. The Mandalorian simply nodded, before you turned away and made your  way back to the counter. You checked the window to the kitchen quickly, not seeing any new meals that needed to be carried to the tables, so you took the time to refill the bottles of blue milk. Lots of them had gone empty since your boss didn’t keep an eye on it and you were busy tending to the customers. 

You were about to close the second refilled bottle when your boss came around the corner, already an angry expression on his face. “Sir-“ you started, but he was quick to interrupt you. “Did I tell you to refill these?” His voice was loud, booming through the cantina as usual. You flinched visibly, immediately placing the bottle down on the counter again. “No, but I figured they might have to be refilled like usual,” you tried to explain yourself, heart beating wildly against your chest. You were frightened, again. You wanted nothing more than to get rid of this job. 

“But I didn’t tell you to do that now!” His voice just got louder. You could feel everyone’s stares on you already, all of that making your hands shake immediately. “I’m sorry, I-“ Your words weren’t more than nervous stammers. 

“This isn’t the first time you keep messing up. It’s always you that’s causing trouble.” All you had ever done here was try to get everything right. So many employees had already left but you didn’t and now this is what you got for all of it. Not that you could have afforded to leave. But during your time here, you still didn’t want to mess up. 

“Maybe I should finally get rid of you. This is your last shift.” 

You knew the shock was written on your face. An uncomfortable silence spread in the room that had been so loud just a few minutes earlier. Your heart threatened to stop as well. Where were you supposed to go? How were you supposed to survive? You didn’t have many savings, your rent was incredibly high and you had no idea where to find a new job. 

You were left standing in shock when your boss turned around and went back into the kitchen. You gulped, the world around you spinning for a second. Your hand found the counter to support you somehow, trying to prevent your fall. This was horrible. All of this was horrible. 

You made sure to pack everything that belonged to you into your bag when the cantina closed later that evening. It wasn’t much. You had just kept a mug around to fill yourself a drink every now and then. And had left a jacket in the kitchen in case it would get colder than usual. Of course, you wouldn’t miss this place, but you would miss the money you received. How were you supposed to pay the bills now?

Your only hope might be a cleaning job in one of the New Republic office facilities. But you had to get off this planet for that first.

Your thoughts were interrupted though when you saw the Mandalorian standing outside the building, seemingly waiting for you. Was he waiting for you? 

He approached pretty quickly then and you could hear a small sigh leave his lips. “I saw what happened earlier.” Of course he did. Everyone did probably.  

“I think everyone did,” you replied, visibly frustrated at the memory. You didn’t only get fired, you got fired in front of so many people. 

“Probably,” the Mandalorian added, looking around for a moment. He seemed kind of nervous for some reason, putting one of his hands on his hip. “Do you already have an idea of where to go? Job-wise?” 

It was a strange question. From a stranger specifically. Yet you decided to answer it truthfully. “No. I have honestly no idea what I will do now.” Tears were making their way into your eyes, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. How could this get even more embarrassing? You were now even crying in front of a stranger. 

The Mandalorian seemed to be a bit overwhelmed by your reaction, looking around helplessly and almost avoiding your gaze. He seemed to think for an awful long time, a time where you could feel more and more shivers rising up in your body. 

Eventually, he spoke again. “I think I have a job for you. If you want.”

Looking back, it might have been a bit foolish to just follow a bounty hunter you barely knew through the galaxy. But Din Djarin, as you had found out, never mistreated you even once. “The Job” you had been offered consisted of looking after the small child. It wasn’t the easiest job, especially since both Din and Grogu had a habit of getting into trouble quite often and you were the one that had to stick around and stitch them back together or make sure that Grogu didn’t get into too much danger. 

Almost a year had passed since you had left your old home behind and started to find a new one within the Razor Crest. Travelling the galaxy was intriguing and you got to see so many new places. Desert planets, jungle planets… things you couldn’t even imagine before. You had met new species, talked to more people than you probably had your entire life and tried so many new foods that you could barely keep track of them anymore. 

Din was a quiet travel companion but you noticed that with each passing month, he started to open up a bit more. First, your conversations consisted mostly of small talk and what mischief Grogu had been up to again. But then, he slowly started to tell you about some bounties he had done in the past, about planets he had visited and worries he had about your next destination. 

You also dared to open up more, especially about your time as a waitress, about everything that came before he gave you the chance to escape your miserable life back home. Din was a great listener. With time, your conversations got longer, the topics more meaningful and you sound found yourself talking about your biggest fears. Din was open with you about the fact that he was constantly worried about Grogu, that he had no idea how finding a Jedi was going to work out for him. You were honest with him about the fact that you didn’t really have anything but him, the child and your travels together. 

During all these talks, often happening late at night or while the stars were rushing by in hyperspace, you could feel yourself growing more and more fond of the Mandalorian. One night he told you about how he invented a rock game with other foundlings when he was a child, laughter making their way past his helmet. And every laugh left more butterflies in your stomach. Soon enough, you were filled with them, just like the smile was not able to leave your lips anymore. These conversations made you happy, let you feel safe and his voice started to become the most beautiful sound you could hear. And every time he retreated back to his bunk for the night, leaving you on your pile of blankets and pillows, you felt a sting in your chest, like something you loved dearly was gone again. 

With time, it became harder and harder for you to hide your feelings. You knew Din might be oblivious to some advances made by others – you had witnessed that yourself – but he would surely notice that your behaviour changed. Seeing each other every day, it would be inevitable. But you were determined to try your best at hiding whatever was going on inside you. 

Maybe it led to less late night talks, less meals spent together, but you were trying to save yourself from more hurt coming towards you. Not being able to act on your feelings was one thing, but being openly rejected would be another. At least you would be able to have the fantasies in your head. 

Today, you were sitting on the ramp of the Razor Crest, Grogu next to you, playing with his favourite toy – a ball. You watched him with a smile on your face. Din was out buying supplies and you decided to stay back and watch over Grogu here. It was like that a lot of the time. And sometimes Din would come back from a fight, armour dirty and sometimes even mildly injured. 

That was also one of the reasons why you didn’t dare to tell him about you how felt. He was a warrior, strong, brave and able to stand his ground. He had a presence, a strength, you could never match. You weren’t even able to hold your blaster properly sometimes. 

In your head, you imagined Din would like to have a partner, a riduur, that would be able to fight. Mandalorians were warriors and you were neither of these. Getting Din to open up had taken a long time, but learning how to fight for him would take even longer. 

You could only dream about being with him. 

Din was carrying a large bag with supplies when he came back to the Razor Crest. He already saw the two of you from afar and something about the way you played with Grogu, eventually picking him up and placing him in your lap, made his chest feel warm. His entire body started to feel warm, cheeks included. If he wasn’t wearing the helmet, the blush in his face would have betrayed all that was going on inside him. 

You were simply wonderful in his eyes. There was also a certain calmness he felt whenever he saw you with Grogu. You were like a mother to the little green child, but you had also become his calm in a storm. The Razor Crest had never felt like home as much as it did with you in it. 

But how could he ever explain all of this to you? 

A few more weeks passed and as did the stars in hyperspace. They were rushing past you on your way to a new planet, a new location, where Din had located a bounty he was after. You were sitting next to him in the cockpit, watching the different screens and buttons. One day you would finally at least get the courage to ask Din to show you the basics of flying. For now, you didn’t want to seem annoying. Not that he had ever given you the impression that he could be annoyed by you. 

It was just your own doubts. And the fact that you were probably not anything like an ideal travelling companion or partner for him. Other people surely knew how to navigate a ship, get rid of pirates and care for a child. 

“Do you already know what to expect?” You asked eventually, breaking the silence. Din turned his head towards you. You always wondered what eyes were hidden behind that helmet. Behind that dark visor that you couldn’t see past. 

“A bunch of smugglers that settled down in the woods. I’m supposed to bring their leader back to the client,” he explained, hand coming up to fix the armour on his shoulder. There was an urge in your fingertips to help him, but you held back. 

After months of living together, travelling together, you had learned to hold back, even though you wanted nothing more but to finally touch him. Just somehow. Somewhere. 

“Then I will already wish you good luck. I can wait here with Grogu again, if you want.” It was always easier for him to do his job without having Grogu, and now you, around. Not having to watch after a little kid while fighting was definitely a blessing you could get behind. So whenever it worked, you just stayed back on the ship with the little green one. 

Din walked off into the forest as soon as you had landed. You left the ramp open again, but sat down on some tree stumps, letting Grogu play around in the grass. He was surely putting a few bugs into his mouth but as you had learned, it wasn’t harmful to him and he was never not hungry. 

You still kept an eye on him. Din had told you about how important Grogu seemed to be to some people, for his abilities, and that they wouldn’t shy away from getting to him at all costs. You never let him out of your sight at all. 

It seemed to take Din forever. The sun had gone down already, but he hadn’t returned yet and slowly, worries were starting to spread inside you. What if something happened to him? What if he was bleeding out somewhere and couldn’t make it back to the ship? What if he had gotten lost in the woods? So many questions, unanswered. 

With every passing minute, your worries just grew. The worst scenarios started to form in your head. You could almost see Din’s armour in front of you, the shiny beskar covered in blood and dirt. His painful groans echoed in your head without actually being there. Panic was rising inside you. He had never been gone for that long. 

You started to pace around, Grogu sensing your discomfort and sitting on a stump, watching you without much movement. You weren’t sure if you were confident enough in your skills to go looking for him. It had been hours since he had disappeared between the trees and there was no way you would be able to find your own way in those woods. You had no experience navigating anything beside a busy cantina. 

Hope rose inside you as you spotted a figure in the shadows though. Same height as Din, almost the same built. Almost. This person as a lot broader, face covered as well, but with a mask of a different kind. A hood was pulled into their face and your heart almost stopped. This wasn’t Din. Without standing around much longer, you grabbed Grogu, pressed him against your chest and wanted to make a run for the Razor Crest. 

But someone was also standing behind you, blocking the entry into your ship. You gulped, panic filling your body completely. What were you supposed to do? Your hands turned sweaty, but you knew you had to find a solution or else you and Grogu would be damned. You needed to make a move now. The man in front of you just kept coming closer and closer. With every step, he sent another shiver of fear through your body. 

Then you could feel your limbs again and everything in your head was screaming Run!. So you did. You ran into the woods, hearing fast steps behind you, but you were good at running at least. Grogu was hiding his face in your top, the little child shivering as you carried him through the unknown forest. Branches scratched against the exposed skin of your arms, leaving it bloody and red. 

It seemed like an eternity, running and running, and slowly, your lungs were starting to give in. You stumbled, again and again, until you met the hard ground, stone pushing into your hands, sending pain through your arm. Your knees hurt, scrapped open, your legs weak from the running while you were still desperately trying to breathe. 

Then there was the cold metal of a blaster against your head, tears streaming from your eyes. You were really going to die here. And you weren’t able to protect Grogu at all. He would be taken away, Din would come back and find you both gone. If he was still alive. 

“Please-” you started, already expecting the laser to hit you, but it never did. The pain never came, the sound never filled your ears. 

Instead, you heard a dull sound and the cold feeling on your head left. You turned around, looking at the Mandalorian. 

“Din,” you breathed out, more tears coming from your eyes. Relief. You were overcome with relief, the feeling taking control of your entire body. Grogu sat down on the ground as you leaned against a stone, trying to get your breathing even again. But your eyes never left the man in front of you. 

The person that had attacked you laid on the ground, motionless. But Din was staring at you, through the dark visor once more. “Are you alright?” He asked. The trembling of his voice could not be hidden. He was worried, worried sick. 

“Are you alright?” He asked again, sinking down in front of you. His gloved hands cupped your head, the rough leather moving over your cheeks. 

Even though you couldn’t see his face, his body language betrayed him. He was shivering slightly, his breath faster than usual and all calm had left him completely. 

“I’m alright. Just a few scratches,” you nodded, a hand finding its way on top of his. You gave his hand a slight squeeze and for a moment, he seemed to become even more tense. Until he wasn’t anymore. 

A weight fell off his shoulders and his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into him. His armour was hard against you, but you could hear the beating of his heart and for a moment, the pain in your limbs didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered. 

“I was so afraid to lose you. I-” He kept you in his arms, even as he spoke. “I have come to care for you a great deal. There are some feelings I can’t really put into words.” 

He didn’t have to say more. You understood. It filled you with warmth, head to toe, with butterflies in your stomach and a smile on your lips. The pain was something from the past for now. Knowing that Din seemed to feel the same about you was all you had wanted for so long. 

“I was worried about you too. You were gone for so long and… I also don’t want to see you hurt. Ever. I don’t want to walk the galaxy without you.”

Din let out a sigh, his gloved hand moving soothingly over your hair. 

“You will never have to go anywhere without me, cyar’ika. I’m here to protect you.” 

[wrencatte]

mini fic 8 ! Fallen Order - Bogano First Visit - Cal & Greez & Cere Cal likes to sleep in...interesting places. Greez POV - 1.6k words

ao3 minific link - chapter 7 (beard)

Cal comes back from exploring more of Bogano limping, but in good spirits. Giddy, even!

Greez would almost be suspicious of it, not quite trusting the kid still, if it weren’t for how…young he looks with his cheeks flushed and his hair wild, holding an animated conversation with that droid that’s apparently sticking around. It takes years off him. Makes him look his age and like he wasn’t – like he wasn’t part of what was a genocide of his people.

Oh…great. Now Greez is sad just from looking at him.

He goes back to focusing on sprucing up the Mantis, determined to ignore his growing fondness for a kid who could scrap his ship for credits in a heartbeat. Scrappy describes the kid in more ways than one and Greez is not getting attached, stop. But he is. Because Cal is serious and jaded, but he also listens to Greez when he talks about the upgrades he’s done to the Mantis, asking intelligent questions and actually interested in the answer. He loves all food, never picky even when Cere’s nose wrinkles just a bit. When he laughs, it sounds like he means it despite all the terrible things he’s gone through. And – he’s just a kid. How could Greez dislike a kid who’s gone through such hardships and yet is still trying to do some good in galaxy?

He wonders vaguely if that’s a Jedi thing or a Cal Kestis thing – and decides maybe it’s a little bit of both. Cere’s a good person too. He can see the similarities in the two of them, raised on the same values and lessons, just trying their best in a galaxy that hates them.

Greez is so good at ignoring his own feelings and everything around him that an hour passes before he realizes…Cal isn’t hanging around anymore. The latero briefly considers being worried, but then dismisses the thought. He’s probably back out exploring Bogano. Sometimes the kid disappears for the entire day, gone before the sun rises and not back until it’s well below the horizon. How he can find so much to explore in this backwater swamp, he has no idea, but he’s not about to go out investigating himself.

Satisfied with that logic, it’s back to buffing out the blaster marks off the Mantis’ exterior. Hm, maybe a new paint job? Cal found something out in one of the workshops, didn’t he? Presented it with a grin and a twinkle in his eyes, laughing when Greez opened it and found an eye-watering pink inside. Pink is a little too distinctive, but Cal handed over another tin of an understated swamp green Greez actually likes. Maybe he’ll tag the kid to help.

He’s distracted by his thoughts by a flash of red-white out of the corner of his eye – BD-1, wandering around and scanning insects that he’s probably scanned a dozen times before.

….with no ginger-haired Jedi in tow.

Great.

Where BD is, Cal should also be. It’s a new rule of the galaxy. Never one without the other. The last time that happened, turns out Cal got tangled up in some rope and was hanging over a drop so high Greez couldn’t see the ground.

“Where is he?” he asks the little droid. He gets a simple beep in response which Greez totally understands. Completely. Yeah.

 – Greez stares blankly, not understanding at all. BD does a little head waggle, making a noise that sounds suspiciously like a droid’s version of laughter. That little shit.

“Hey! We can’t all be fluent in fifty billion languages. Give me a break.”

He may be over-estimating that number by a tad, but it’s definitely a high number. The translation matrix in the Mantis isn’t exactly top notch, but it has a pretty decent database and it still glitches when Cal gets worked up and switches to a new language he hadn’t used before.

The question is how does he know so many and the answer gives Greez a headache every time.

He will never understand the Force.

“Just…where is he? If he fell in a hole and broke is leg somewhere Cere’s gonna to kill me.”

Or ran into another, what did he call it? An oggdo? According to Cal, he barely escaped with his life. Still injured from their escape from Bracca and caught by surprise, the kid lost a good chunk of his poncho and had to be hosed down before being let back onto the ship, covered in toad gunk and mud. Now that he’s healed, he’s supposed to be figuring out their next move concerning the Vault, but maybe he’s decided to throw himself into a fight with an oggdo again – and lost, and that’s why BD’s here, looking for help.

BD-1 would be more frantic if that was the case, right?

“Where’s Cal?”

Ah, speak and she shall appear. The galaxy really is just out to get him.

Greez face-palms as he turns to see Cere standing on the Mantis’ ramp, looking a little sleep ruffled but getting more and more awake as her gaze bounces from Greez to BD-1 and never to Cal because Call isn’t here. The fact that she’s stopped long enough to fall asleep, let alone actually slept, is a kriffin’ miracle. She’s been non-stop ever since they picked up Imperial communications of a Jedi on Bracca and said Jedi turned out to be a teenager who decided to immediately pass out from his injuries once they entered hyperspace.

And that was nearly three weeks ago.

“Heeyy, Cere. Have a nice nap?”

She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “I did, actually. Now, where’s Cal?”

Greez waves a hand. “Oh, you know him. He’s probably getting distracted by some new thing to explore.”

Cere crosses his arms, eyes flickering down to where BD-1 is watching them. “And I’m sure he made a conscious decision to do that without BD-1, didn’t he?”

“Maybe. You never know.” Greez feels oddly defensive, and he wonders if that’s a Jedi Master ability, making him feel like a kid who stole from the sweets jar when it reality it was his brother.

BD bwoops, it almost sounds like he’s laughing, hopping from foot to foot before he takes off, disappearing behind the ship’s ramp quick as a blink. Greez and Cere exchange bewildered looks. All they can do is follow. Where BD is, Cal will also be. And in turn, where Cal is, BD will be there. This they’ve learned – Cere when she nearly tripped over the droid sitting patiently as Cal meditated. Greez when he went to the second level of the Mantis for storage and found BD standing guard as Cal quietly had some sort of panic attack.

Kindred spirits, Cere had called them with a sad sort of smile on her face.

When they make their way under the Mantis – Cere having to duck – what greets them is, quite frankly, an adorable sight.

Cal is curled up in the shadows, poncho pulled tight around him, head cradled on his arm.

Deeply asleep. He’s not even talking like he sometimes does. His expression is relaxed, content even. A few of the brown, bouncing critters that dig burrow – boglings? – are piled up around him like a lump of dozing akk dogs. Ears twitch. Legs kick out as they dream. They’re snoring. These little sounds that Greez will never admit out loud he finds cute. If he listens closely enough, he can hear a deeper snore from beneath the pile – Cal.

BD beeps quietly, a job well done in letting them know where Cal is, then skitters over to the kid, picking carefully around various limbs until he can tuck himself under Cal’s arm and snuggle against his chest like he’s a bogling himself. Cal makes a soft sound and curls around the droid, holding him close.

“Would you look at that,” Cere says softly, expression aching.

Cal sleeping -- actually sleeping without nightmares or pain – is something neither of them are familiar with at all. And who can blame him? Greez can’t imagine that the kid’s been through. He’ll be having nightmares himself for a long while thanks to Bracca.

“Do we leave him here?” Greez asks, torn between wanting him to sleep and cringing at the amount of mud that’s gotta be soaking into his clothes.

BD whirls in quiet warning, daring them to try and wake Cal. Cere laughs, shaking her head.

“Do you want to be the one who wakes him up?” she asks, her tone amused. Greez grimaces. No thank you. “I thought so. It’s better if we let him sleep, especially if he’s sleeping so well. It’ll be easier to connect to the Force if he’s well rested.”

“So, we just…walk away? Leave him alone?” Sleeping outside isn’t exactly his idea of a good time.

“Are you planning on going any further from the ship?”

“Well, no.”

Cere gestures to the boglings that have, surprisingly, not run away yet. A couple are looking at the two of them with wide, wary eyes, but they seem too comfortable to move. “He has plenty of guards. We’re not going anywhere. You’re more than welcomed to hose him down before he boards.”

“Oh. Yeah. Good point.” Greez is absolutely hosing him down. Bogano mud stinks.

They leave him there, sleeping soundly with BD on guard, but they don’t go far. Cere disappears for only a couple minutes before she comes back out with a holonovel, a drink, and a chair, setting up right where she can juusstt see a peek of Cal under the ramp. Greez picks up the buffer again, pauses in thought, then hurries to grab the swamp green paint tin – after a nanosecond of hesitation, he scoops up the pink paint as well.

He’s sure there’s a non-obtrusive thing he can paint pink. Maybe it’ll get that one bright, looks-his-age smile from Cal again.

[darth-kote]

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Clan of Three - Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: The Passenger

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with an undiscovered lineage. An unlikely group to travel the galaxy together.

Word Count: 4.4K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, small injuries, some wholesome moments

------

The largeness of Tatooine was something you would never get used to, just as far as the eye could see. You entered a canyon traveling quickly to it so you could make it to Mos Eisley before dark. It was so sudden the bike slammed into a tripline flipping forward. All the items and yourselves go flying into the air. Din can stabilize himself with his jetpack but you and the child hit the ground rather roughly. A hand rips at your hair dragging you across the sands as you kick out trying to slow him down as you see Din fighting two bounty hunters.

“Mando!” You cry out and his head snaps to you hearing your cry of pain instantly fighting harder against the two hunters. You see the bounty hunter holding you pull out a large knife and bring it down to your chest. You kick your leg up knocking it out of his grasp. His hand lets go of your hair and you spin around pulling your blaster out and shooting him in the chest. A pair of arms wrap around your waist pulling you two your feet and you move to attack when you feel cool metal pressed against your neck.

“Drop the blaster.” His breath is hot against your ear as it digs sharply into your skin and you drop the weapon, he turns you around and you see Din with the child and his blood goes cold seeing the blade pressed against your neck.

“Wait! Don’t hurt the kid. If you put one mark on her, there’s no place you will be able to hide from me. We can strike a bargain. There’s a lot of value in this wreckage. Take your pick. But leave the girl.” Din says gesturing at the armor he had just collected and the hunk of krayt dragon meat. He gives you a look not to move when he sees your free hand slither toward your saber. The bounty hunter points with his free hand at Din’s jetpack and he nods sliding it off his back and placing it in the sands and stepping back. “Okay. Here. It’s yours. Take it. It’s okay.”

The bounty hunter seeing that Din wasn’t going to risk getting you hurt pulls the blade from your neck and you strike, your hand grabs the saber igniting it and jabbing it behind you feeling it quickly glide through the body. You move away seeing a stab wound in the bounty hunter as he lies dead. You turn off your saber bringing your hand up to your neck feeling the irritated skin from the blade.

“You okay?” Din asks coming to your side and looking over you and you nod, “Yeah..yeah I’m good.”

With the speeder destroyed you had no choice but to make it on foot, Din carrying most of the cargo you had the duty of holding your bag with whatever else you could hold in as well as the child. Crossing the dunes and canyons until you had painstakingly made it back to Mos Eisley well past nightfall the three of you entered the cantina. The cantina was filled with people drinking or gambling and that’s where you found Peli playing sabacc with an insect-droid-looking person,

“I don’t know. Looks like someone’s gonna be goin’ home empty-handed,” She says to her opponent then noticing the three of you there, “You finally found a Mandalorian and ya killed him?”

“He wasn’t Mandalorian. I bought this armor off of him, though.” Din explains and Peli hums looking back to her game, “What’d that set you back?”

“Killed the krayt dragon for him.” Din says as if it wasn’t a big deal and Peli gives him a look at his nonchalant attitude, “Oh. Is that all?”

Din laments, “He was my last lead on finding other Mandalorians.”

“Okay. Well, you might be in luck. Dr. Mandible says he can connect you with someone who can help you if you cover his call this round. It’s what he said.” Peli says pointing at the person across from her as Dr. Mandible holds his cards up.

“What’s the bet?” Din asks knowing he was going to lose something to gain something.

“Five hundred.” “That’s a high-stakes game,” Din says and Peli waves him off,

“Hey, he’s on a hot streak…” Din sighs pulling out a bag of credits and tossing it onto the table, “Is the pot right?” The two bring down their cards Peli yells in joy seeing her having the winning hand.

“Ha! Idiot’s Array! Pay up, thorax!” She cheers scooping the credits to her side of the table and Din felt swindled.

“I thought you said he was on a hot streak?” Peli continues laughing rubbing it in Dr. Mandible’s face. “Oh. stop your cryin’. You’ll rust. All right. He says the contact will rendezvous at the hangar. They’ll tell you where to find some Mandalorians. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“Yes.” Din nods and Peli stands pocketing her winnings, “All right, well, stop your mopin’. More importantly, did you bring back any of that dragon meat? Better not have any maggots on it. I don’t like maggots.”

Back in the hangar most of the stuff returned in the Crest as Peli cooks the large hunk of meat using a ship engine the droids rotating the meat. “Hey, don’t overcook it, Treadwell. I like it medium rare! I’m not some Rodian, for crying out loud. All right, here’s the deal. A Mandalorian covert is close. It’s in this sector, one system trailing.” Peli explains as Din listens.

“Are they the ones that left Nevarro?” He asks and Peli shrugs, “Don’t know. All I know is that the contact will lead you to them.’

“How much will it cost me?” Din already thinking of the price this would be.

“Well, the great news. It’s free. Aside from a finder’s fee, of course.” Peli says and you could already tell there was some not-good news,

“What’s the not-great news?” You ask and Peli shrugs you off,

“Nothing. It’s all great.” She says and both you and Din give a skeptical look. “Okay.”

“However, there is one small skank in the scud pie.” She says and Din gives her a look, “Which is?”

“The contact wants passage to the system.” Peli says and Din is so sure about this contact, “Do you vouch for them?”

“On my life.” She holds up her hand promising and Din has no choice but to agree, “And… no hyperdrive.” This quickly makes Din refuse.

“You want me to travel sublight? Deal’s off.” Peli follows after Din as he goes to the Crest with you beside him, “It’s one sector over.”

“Moving fast is the only thing keeping me safe.” Din explains and Peli begs, “These are mitigating circumstances.” Entering the hangar is a frog lady strapped onto her back a canister with some liquid and what looks like eggs,

“What do you mean ‘mitigating’? I’m not a taxi service.” “I know, I know, I hear you. But I can vouch for her.”

Din looks at the item on her back, “What’s the cargo?” Peli speaks to the Frog lady with some croaks and she responds before turning to you two.

“It’s her spawn. She needs her eggs fertilized by the equinox or her line will end. If you jump into hyperspace, they’ll die. She said her husband has settled on the estuary moon of Trask in the system of the gas giant Kol Iben.” The Frog Lady looks at her canister with a loving look at her future children.

“She said all that?” You ask and Peli shrugs waving you off, “I paraphrased.”

“Is she sure there are Mandalorians there?” Din says he did not want to go on this mission if there is no reward in the end. Peli nods translating the Frog lady’s words, “She said her husband has seen them.”

“Do you know the husband?” Din asks and Peli shakes her head, “No. I met her ten minutes before you walked in.”

“I thought you said you vouched for her on your life.” Already exasperated by the idea of this random stranger with him. “What can I say, I’m an excellent judge of character.” Having no choice, it was either to find this information himself which could take longer, or complete this risky request. Soon the four of you were on the Crest, the child in its hammock in the hull you had settled yourself on the small cot all cleaned up from the krayt dragon. Your weapons resting in your bag under your cot as you flip through the pages of the old jedi texts.

“Now, I’m gonna ask you to stay strapped in whenever you’re seated. Traveling sublight is a bit dicey these days. Whether it’s pirates or warlords, someone either ends up with a nice chunk of change or your ship.” Din explains in the cockpit putting in the coordinates of the location, traveling sublight would be much slower than in hyperspace. The Frog Lady makes croaking noise buckling herself in but Din couldn’t understand her, “I don’t speak whatever language that is. You speak Huttese? So, I’m gonna hit the rack. I’ve set the nav for our course. It’s gonna take a while. I recommend you get some rest.”

Din exits the cockpit heading down the ladder and sees you already asleep in your cot, the book barely held in your hand. He slowly removes the book from your grasp seeing the unfamiliar words in some passages but some Basic. He didn’t dive further placing the book under your cot and grabbing the blanket covering you as you curl into your small bed. Moving to his secluded bunk opening the door not spotting the child in their bed when he hears a sound. Turning spotting the child with his hand in the canister an egg in his hand as he shoves it in his mouth.

“No, no, no! That is not food. Don’t do that again. Nap time.” Pulling the child away closing the canister, grabbing the child bringing him to his bed before he two settles into the bunk to get some sleep.

A loud beeping sound draws you from your sleep and you slightly sleep up rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The beeping only gets louder as you pull yourself out of the cot and the noise seems to wake up Din who comes out of his bunk both of you entering the cockpit.

“Razor Crest, M-One-Eleven. Come in, Razor Crest. Do you copy?” A voice comes through the commons as Din quickly gets in his seat while you remain standing.

“Are those X-wings?” You ask seeing the two starships flanking both sides of the Crest.

“This is Razor Crest. Is there a problem?” Din says holding his hand out for you to be quiet.

“We noticed your transponder is not emitting.” One of the pilots says.

“Yes, I’m pre-Empire surplus. I’m not required to run a beacon.” Din explains and it is quiet before they speak up, “That was before. This sector is under New Republic jurisdiction. All craft are required to run a beacon.”

Din nods even though they couldn’t see you guys, “Thank you for letting me know. I’ll get right on it.”

“Not a problem. Safe travels.” The pilot says.

“May the Force be with you.” Din says it so awkwardly and you give him a look as he holds his hand out so you remain quiet, “And also with you. Just one more thing.” The pilot says.

“Yes?” “I’m gonna need you to send us a ping. We’re out here sweeping for Imperial holdouts.” The pilot asks and Din responds quickly hoping they would just leave, he was cursing himself that if they just went through hyperspace none of this would have happened.

“I’ll let you know if I see any.” Din replies and it’s quiet before the pilot speaks up again, “I’m still gonna need you to send us that ping.”

“Well, I’m not sure I have that hardware online.” Din lies the slight panic in his veins, hopefully, this excuse will let them go, “We can wait.” The pilot says not willing to let them go.

“Yeah, I… Doesn’t seem to be working.” Din says and you hear the pilot sigh, “That’s too bad. If we can’t confirm you’re not Imperial, you’re gonna have to follow us to the outpost at Adelphi. They’ll run your tabs.” Din quickly presses a button sending the ping,

“Oh, wait. There it is. Transmitting now.” Suddenly some frantic croaking comes from the Frog Lady making you turn around and you try motioning her to be quiet, “Be quiet!”

“What’s that?” The pilot asks and Din whips forward to the comm, “Uh, nothing. The hypervac is drawing off the exhaust manifold.”

“Carson, can you switch over to channel two?” The other pilot speaks up and Carson responds, “Copy.” The two switch channels as you wait for any news the tension getting to you before Carson and the other pilot return back,

“Was your craft in the proximity of New Republic Correctional Transport, Bothan-Five?” Din says nothing before suddenly banking his ship down towards the nearby planet. The sharp jerk makes you slam into the wall.

“Mando!” “Sit your ass down, kid!” Din responds as you are rapidly entering the atmosphere, you bring yourself to your seat strapping yourself in, the kid was in his pram in the hull he should be fine.

“Razor Crest, stand down. We will fire. I repeat we will fire.” Carson yells as you reach the ground Din making some very quick manoeuvers in the canyons you could hear the ice scrapping against the ship hull as he tries to evade the X-wings.

“Come on, Razor Crest, don’t make us do it,” Carson yells out again. The crest twist to its side barely making it through the gap and breaking some ice in the process making it hit the ground and slide along the ground until it’s under a rock shelf. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in, as Din steadies his own heart seeing the two X-wings fly by having not seen where you were hidden.

“Let’s get off this planet,” Din says getting ready to take off part of the ship is stuck in some ice, and the sound of loud cracking before the ground underneath the ship disappears as you fall into a cavern. Your head slams against the wall and everything goes dark. You could feel the chill when you come to as the pounding in your head you could hear some voices as your vision slowly returns as well. A dark figure appears in front of you their hands grabbing your head,

“Kid…kid you okay?” Din calls out as your hearing and vision return and he’s kneeling in front of you looking over you.

“Din…What happened?” You ask looking around confused and he feels slightly relieved knowing you were responding, you weren’t bleeding anywhere just a hit to the head when they crashed into this cave.

“I’ll explain everything but I gotta find the eggs and the child,” Din says moving to the cockpit. Din was able to quickly find the child who had successfully eaten another of her eggs. It was growing closer to dark, and it was already cold as it was. You were so used to hot temperatures that the cold felt ten times worse.

“If you hadn’t guessed, we’re in a tight spot. The main power drive is not responding, and the hull has lost its integrity. I suspect the temperature will drop significantly when night falls.” Din explains the ship had a large hole in the side of the hull and he had placed some tarps over the hull, the stop the snow and some of the cold coming in but with no power that meant no heat. You blow some air into your hands rubbing them together, all of your clothes were designed for hotter weather with no sleeves and of thin material to help with the fighting. Din passes a blanket to the Frog Lady and some to you and the child. The child was cuddled in your lap and held close to you to preserve some heat. You took one of the blankets from the child’s pram wrapping him up tightly while you had one though not as thick as you would like wrapped around you.

“I’ll have a better idea of our prospects at that time,” Din says sitting down beside the corner you and the child had set up, he wraps another blanket around you seeing the coldness on the tips of your features. He pulls you into his side and you were never happier for someone holding you, the body warmth he was giving off helped greatly. The Frog Lady croaks insistently gesturing towards her eggs, “I’m sorry, lady. I don’t understand Frog. Whatever it is, it can wait until morning. I recommend you get some sleep.”

You curl up against his side the child cooing in your arms as you try to steal as much heat of the Mandalorian, his arm around your back holds you tight against him, “Get some sleep kid,” He says looking down at his two children making sure they were alright before worrying about himself. The cold was harsh but the heat you had gotten by being cuddled with two others made going to sleep pretty easily.

“Wake up, Mandalorian.” The droid’s voice startles Din awake his blaster is aimed at Zero but sees the Frog Lady standing beside the droid, he glances down at the two children still asleep pressed against his side, “This cannot wait until morning. Do not be alarmed. I bypassed the droid’s security protocols and accessed its vocabulator.”

“What the hell are you doing? That droid is a killer.” Din whisper shouts trying not to wake the sleeping children but still trying to make his voice clear and harsh.

“These eggs are the last brood of my life cycle. My husband has risked his life to carve out an existence for us on the only planet that is hospitable to our species. We fought too hard and suffered too much to resign ourselves to the extinction of our family line. I must demand that you hold true to the deal that you agreed to.” The Frog Lady’s words translated through the droid as she points at the canister holding her offspring,

Din sighs looking away, “Look, lady, the deal is off. We’re lucky if we get off this frozen tomb with our lives.”

“I thought honoring one’s word was a part of the Mandalorian code. I guess those are just stories for children.” The Frog Lady says and Din shakes his head holstering his blaster, slowly peeling you two off him before heading outside to begin repairs glancing back.

“This was not a part of the deal.”

Din was working on the ship when you woke up from sleep, the child was still cuddled up in your arm and you place him down in the pile of blankets. Finding your cloak to try to help slightly and you grab your weapons finishing by attaching your saber to your belt before heading out into the cold. You hadn’t seen Din in the cockpit or the cargo hull same with the Frog Lady with her eggs. The cold quickly nips at your fingers and ears and you spot some footsteps. You begin tracking them when a hand grabs your shoulder spinning you around and there was Din.

“What are you doing out here, it’s too cold for you to be out.” He says trying to bring you back to the Crest and he sees the child now awake out in the snow as well.

“Din, the Frog Lady, she wasn’t in the ship,” You say stopping him in his tracks and you point at the footprints leading off further into the cavern. Din grabs the child and the three of you set off following the footprints, eventually feeling the warm air as you enter a large cave, ice, and snow covers everything but in three large pools steams pour off it. One of them is the Frog Lady relaxing in the warm waters her eggs floating in the water as well.

“There you are. You can’t leave the ship. It’s not safe out here. Let’s gather these up,” Din says moving over to the mother as he opens the canister starting to put eggs but she tries pulling away, “I know it’s warm. But the night’s coming fast, and I can’t protect you out here.” Reluctantly the three of you carefully bring the eggs into the container not seeing the child wandering off toward a cluster of eggs. A faint rumble fills the air and you feel dread fill you as you pull away from the pools seeing the child standing over an open egg on the ground though this one a different species. Coming to his side you look down seeing him eating a baby spider inside. The rumbling fills the cave this much loud that Din and the others notice, the walls shake slightly and the eggs surrounding you begin to hatch releasing tiny white spiders, grabbing the child you step back slowly.

“Mando…” You call out as he sees the spiders crawling after you and a loud rumble fills the air coming from a larger cave enters a large white spider it was as big or maybe bigger than the Crest, some spiders are smaller than the child other’s bigger than a person.

“Go, go, go! Back to the ship!” Din yells firing his blaster before a spider could jump you, the large spider screeches as you clutch the child rushing out through the exit with Din and the Frog Lady with her eggs. The walls of ice and snow make this place a maze as you fire your blaster at any that draws close to you and the child. You could hear the large spider chasing after you through its large legs breaking through the ice from the roof. Dodging more spiders Din throws charges at the walls and the roof exploding the ice behind you all. Din now taking the lead as you follow after him firing at spiders all around you, reaching where the crest is quickly entering the ship, the Frog Lady with her eggs enters the cockpit, then you and the child, followed by Din. The damaged hull allows the spiders to swarm the inside of the ship. Din uses his flamethrower to burn the spiders coming through the door as he tries closing it. You fire your blaster alongside the Frog Lady at any spiders that break past Din. The dorms slam shut and he quickly moves to his seat, both of you strapping in you holding the child.

“Strap yourselves in. This better work. I’ve got limited visibility. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.” Din starts the engines the ship starts to ascend when the giant spider drops onto the ship forcing it down. Its leg smashes through the glass of the canopy when the rapid blaster fire comes from outside and hits the creature. The blaster fire seems to hit all over the ship and you see the large spider die on the front of the ship, its disgusting eyes looking down at you all. Din stands up and you go to move but he holds out his hand, “Stay here.”

Din exits the ship his blaster ready, the entire hull was covered in cobwebs and dead spiders. He fires at a lone spider trying to attack before he makes his way outside. Seeing the two parked X-Wings the pilots holding blasters, “We ran the tabs on the Razor Crest. You have an arrest warrant for the abduction of prisoner X-Six-Nine-Eleven. However, onboard security records show that you apprehended three priority culprits from the Wanted Register. Security records also show that you put your own life in harm’s way to try to protect that of Lieutenant Davan from the New Republic Correctional Corps. Is this true?” The pilot named Carson tells him his blaster is still in hand but lowered.

“Am I under arrest?” Din asks and Carson shakes his head though he would rather have the Mandalorian arrested, “Technically, you should be. But these are trying times.”

“What say I forego the bounties on these three criminals, and you two help me fuse my hull so I can get off this frozen rock?” Din asks and the two republic fighters put their blasters away,

“What say you fix that transponder, and we don’t vaporize that antique the next time we patrol the Rim?” The other one says before they climb back into their starships, and take off leaving the Mandalorian with the broken ship.

Din returned after taking in the damage to the ship, “All right. I’m gonna repair the cockpit enough for us to limp to Trask. There’s nothing I can do about the main hull’s integrity, so we’re gonna have to get cozy in the cockpit. It’s the only thing I can pressurize. If you need to use the privy, do it now. It’s gonna be a long ride.” You had gone down getting the child’s pram so he could rest while you grabbed whatever you need, you grabbed your bag bringing it back to the cockpit, after doing your last business until you reached a new planet Din had finished the repairs.

“Okay, repair’s all done. Let’s see if we can get this thing going once and for all.” He starts up the ship, only the cockpit pressurized as the ship shakily takes off the large spider still resting on the ship slides off as you exit the cave and so leave the planet and enter space. Din puts in the coordinates of the planet they were meant to be on, before settling in his seat, “Wake me up if someone shoots at us. Or that door gets sucked off its rails.” You give Din a look at his very morbid joke and the Frog Lady makes a noise of fear,

“I’m kidding. If that happened, we’d all be dead. Sweet dreams.”

The damaged Crest sets off into space, with the hope the four of them survive their journey to Trask. Everyone settles in their seats for the long and rough journey, as the child rests in his pram shoving another egg from the Frog Lady’s into his eager mouth.

[cuddles-with-dragons]

BUG BATCH BUG BATCH

idk why I did this but THE BATCH AS INSECT/ARACHNID HYBRIDS

the following hijinks ensue:

Hunter is a jumping spider. Spiders can't see very well. So, despite having two extra sets of eyes, Hunter can and will bump into pretty much everything. Probably needs glasses, but he avidly denies that he has terrible eyesight.

Tech, as a bumblebee, is so dang cute and likes fluffy things. He wanders off a lot on missions because "ooh i think my bumble-senses just detected a great flower" and he's gotten lost way too many times. Bees are also some of the smartest insects!

Wrecker's one of those Hercules beetles, can and will headbutts droids. Fucking badass and almost impenetrable. Those bugs are built like a tank.

Crosshair is a dragonfly (specifically a Calico pennant) because they have compound vision and are also twigs. Cannot keep his wings (because oh god yes he and Tech have wings) still, who knows if it's anxiety or bug instincts.

Random reg: Please tell me I'm not seeing double and that there really are two AATs. Crosshair: idk, I'm seeing like 200.

Here's a few pics of the specific insects/arachnids:

TW/CW for anyone with entomophobia/arachnophobia

[nightmarefuele]

@huntershowl //starter from the Ren.

||

The thing represents their blindness. It’s a transport shuttle with all its parts ungreased, all dead. They’re stunted to an old age by the remnant vistas of their power as though it still is what only was, at one prior time, advancement.

The shuttle’s present dwellers—like limbs of a breathing weapon—know steeper powers.

They don’t fear us.

That one, crawling into the recondite film of the Shadow, is Vermis; passerby, or patron, fingering into such ant-bitten places as to turn out the innermost of wounds. There are several corners here in the belly of the shuttle, which now glides over a wall like a colosseum’s cracked ring around an outfit of unlit craters—the preferential truth beneath any great rule. She keeps to one whilst bleeding over all the others, scrawling her vapors over the porthole whereon her neuranium exoskull hooks.

They don’t know us.

This muck their ship courts, well, it’s no wonder. Before long, however, the droid valet—whose likeness is man enough that he gives his unimportance away, overstrung in the spine where he pilots at deck’s fore, perhaps a serf or experiment but altogether useless to the Ren—takes them down from the murk of the stratos. The shuttle folds like an insect into a wet handhold. Into sight, they sink.

A shadow unspools from its crouch and becomes a monolith across two strides. It hangs over the half-droid’s back, and gazes out into the Dusk’s bleak quick.

A child’s eyes might see nothing. The night might have scooped out the world from beneath them, replaced it with something breathing and sick. But the monolith—Kylo, the body, the one they have already begun to call, simply, Ren—has witnessed such nothings as to lay the black beneath them naked.

“What is it?” Vermis wonders, materializing there, her voice like a hangnail throbbing.

And Ren, like the low, skulking crackle of dry bone, “An ocean.”

Within the void clutch, a mount, whose age could be any or none. Ren holds there, the city and life already forgotten as solidity drags underway, with his formless, glistening eye like a mouth roused to open.

Then, as their course shifts, “And this?”

Inorganic death, sprawling for miles across a shipyard. Those of oblique, hostile fingers slouched along a sandbed, perhaps the fortuitous shrine of some humanoid ship; or white, milky ovoids like shapeless spiders’ eggs, clusters under clusters of energy staring out from the side of a hill; and here—approaching—the formless dance of light from sources unseeable, steepling toward the great house like a thousand airborne coelenterate.

The pilot catches himself between answers. He, unlike the Ren, has never witnessed anything.

But he does now—Vermis leans around the controls, small, boneless thing that she appears to be, and settles her pin eyes deep.

“Enough.”

The eyes leap to Ren like floating red germs.

“They will show us.”

|||

The attendant ogles them as though they are the lucky ones.

To see inside the invisible, then, is even among their own such a privilege–and the deeper their small company wades, a dark blur encroaching on the periphery of a monument, a dome, the further the cipher appears to coil. The smell, too, emits a facade; a feat of nature, a sweet place for the sun, to enshroud what dust and depth crawl underneath.

Vermis thinks the attendant should feel lucky to keep his eyes hereafter.

Instead, once upon the iris’ vault, he halts; he holds to his silence like a celibate; he puts his back to his master’s vaulting door, and waits.

[jadegretz]

Aayla Secura: Radiant Beacon of Galactic Hope by Jade Gretz

The jungle of Jovan Prime was alive with the buzzing of insects, the distant calls of strange creatures, and the rhythmic hum of a planet untamed. Beneath the massive trees that towered high above, casting deep shadows over the land, Aayla Secura moved silently, her keen senses heightened by the Force. The cool blue of her skin contrasted with the emerald-green leaves around her, blending in only by the sheer stealth she practiced. Her lekku twitched slightly as she felt a disturbance ripple through the air, a faint flicker of the dark side that made her hand instinctively tighten around her lightsaber hilt.

Beside her, two other Jedi, Masters Plo Koon and Kit Fisto, advanced cautiously. They, too, sensed the encroaching danger. Jovan Prime was a remote world, far from the galactic core and hidden from most star maps. It had once been peaceful, a planet of mystery and beauty, its vast forests filled with ancient ruins that whispered of long-lost civilizations. But now, it had become a key target for the Separatists, who sought to claim its resources for their war efforts.

"Do you feel that?" Kit Fisto asked quietly, his large, black eyes scanning the dense undergrowth. His normally upbeat demeanor was now grim, knowing the situation they faced was far from the ordinary battlefields of the Clone Wars.

Aayla nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "The darkness here is growing. I can feel it moving, like a predator stalking its prey."

Plo Koon, with his deep, mechanical voice, added, "This is no ordinary invasion. Something far worse is at play here. We must be cautious."

The Jedi had received a distress signal from a scouting team, sent to investigate strange anomalies near the planet's core. The signal had been cut short, a single chilling transmission replaying in Aayla’s mind: "They… they aren’t just droids… they’re… something else… "

They had landed in the midst of a Separatist invasion, but the army they expected to face—the typical droid battalions and tanks—were nowhere to be seen. Instead, there were signs of something more insidious. Somethi …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)