#kal skirata x reader

[vodika-vibes]

Addicted To You

Summary: Kal has a month-long vacation from Kamino and spends it safely in your arms.

Pairing: Kal Skirta x F!Reader

Word Count: 572

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

A/N: If no one is going to ask for Kal stories, then I guess I'll just write it on my own, lol. Anyway, this is short because I can't get in to see my doctor until Thursday and anything longer requires more than I can give right now. I hope you all like it~

Kal’s arms fold tightly around you when you try to slide out of bed. Effortlessly, as if you weigh nothing, he tugs you back so that he’s able to bury his face in your hair and he mumbles something that might have been, “Don’t get up,” but it might have also been him asking you to make pancakes.

You twist in his arms and lightly card your fingers through his hair, and he blinks at you, more asleep than awake.

“Good morning,” You whisper.

Kal smiles at you and your heart swells. You feared that his time on Kamino would make your affection for the man in your arms fade, distance doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder after all. Sometimes it just makes the heart cold.

“We should go back to sleep,” he whispers to you as if sharing a secret for your ears alone.

“It’s almost noon,” You whisper back, trying not to giggle as you lean in and press your forehead against his, “Aren’t you hungry?”

There’s a familiar glimmer in his eyes as he tightens his grip around you, “Always.”

You bring your hands up to cup his face, “You’re horrible,”

“And yet you love me anyway.” It’s not a question, Kal has never once doubted your affection for him. 

“And yet I love you anyway,” You confirm anyway. You move your hands from his cheeks to rest on his chest, and you push yourself away, “But, as much as I love you, I need to eat and shower.”

“But why?”

“Have you forgotten that your clan invited us to visit tonight? They missed you almost as much as I did.”

“...I did, actually.”

You laugh falling back on your pillow, “Well, it’s a good thing that you have me then, isn’t it?”

“I would be a mess without you,” Kal agrees as he finally sits up, the blanket pooling around his waist. He scans you for a moment, and then flashes the smile that you fell in love with when you were still a girl, “How about we save water and shower together?”

“Ooh, romantic.” You tease.

He offers you his hand, and you take it to allow him to pull you into a sitting position. “I am a paragon of romance. In fact, if you look up romance in the dictionary, you’ll see a picture of me.”

“Well then, aren’t I a lucky lady.”

Kal pulls your hand to his lips and he presses a lingering kiss to your wrist, “I don’t agree. I’m the lucky one.”

“You think so?”

“You picked me when we were just kids, and you kept picking me…even when I was a dumbass teenager. Even when I was a dumbass young adult.” Kal gently pulls you into his arms, “Even when I do dumb things like agree to a ten-year assignment that keeps me away from you for the majority of the year.”

“What can I say,” You murmur as you brush your lips against his, “I’m addicted to you, I think. I don’t know if I want to quit.”

“That makes me the luckiest asshole on Mandalore.” Kal replies before he catches your lips in a deep kiss, and you sigh as you lean into him.

You only have him for a short time before he has to return to Kamino. So you’re going to enjoy every moment you have with him. After all, what other option do you have?

[wanderinginksplot-writes]

Gar Cyare Chapter Twelve

Finally back after an unexpected year-long hiatus!

Word Count: 4,400

Warnings: Implied threats, definite threats, mentions of genetic experimentation, suspicion, mentions of the Attack on Kamino, fear.

Previous | Next (SFW) | Masterlist | Next (NSFW)

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Ca'tra (Night Sky)

Your office looked roughly the same as it always had. Bland Kaminoan architecture dressed in shades of white, gray, and black held a collection of furniture that had been built with the clear emphasis of function over form. Your datapads were untouched, as were the slight hints of mess around the edges of your desk. 

But everything seemed a little strange with the light… or, more accurately, the lack of it. 

The shutters that covered all of the exterior-facing windows on Kamino were closed, both protecting you from any attempt to break through the transparisteel and keeping you from seeing anything that might be happening outside. 

Though nighttime had fallen and the Kaminoan skies had been dark with clouds when the shields lowered, there was still plenty to see. The GAR had recalled all personnel in the sector to Kamino. There was too much chance that the Separatists could come back. This time, they could use the knowledge they had gathered during the last invasion - plus any new intel - to destroy the Fett genetic sample for good. 

The arrival of new ships was nearly constant, and you had heard chatter from the cadets that at least two Venator-class Star Destroyers were guarding the areas just beyond Kamino’s atmosphere. Any ships that intended to land had been issued special clearance codes. If they failed to deliver them at the right time or on the right frequency, they would be shot down upon breaking atmosphere. 

You hadn’t heard the anti-aircraft guns fire yet, so you were fairly confident that there had been no actual invasion. 

Still, you itched to see beyond the barriers, though you knew your reasoning was senseless. You wouldn’t see Alpha coming back. General Ti had told you that he would be gone at least another twelve hours, but your mind kept insisting that you would be able to watch him land in relative safety. 

If you were being honest with yourself, that was why you were still in your office instead of your bedroom. Sure, you could pretend that you were there in case General Ti or Commander Colt needed something from you, but in all reality, it was because you were filled with dread at the idea of returning to your empty quarters.

You already hated the idea that Alpha was out in the galaxy when there were potentially Separatists in the area, but to be reminded of it every time you looked around your bedroom? No, you were perfectly content in your office. 

A knock on your door made you sit upright. “Yes?” 

Your hammering heart gradually slowed as Commander Colt peered inside. “Why are you still awake?” 

You shrugged. “Too nervous to sleep, I guess.” 

A frown creased the space between the commander’s eyebrows as he stepped into your office. “You should get some rest while you can. If we are invaded, you need to be at full awareness.” 

That wasn’t exactly comforting, but you nodded. 

“Sorry,” Commander Colt said abruptly. “Probably didn’t help anything, huh?” 

“Not exactly,” you admitted. The concern for your nerves was surprising, more something you would have expected from Alpha. Suddenly, you wondered if the commander had come to find you because Alpha had asked him to. “Have you heard from Alpha?” 

He shook his head. “No, why? Have you?” 

“No.” You sighed. “I thought that might be why you’re here.”

“Limit asked me to check on you,” he told you. That made more sense, but before you could say so, Commander Colt added, “I was already on my way.” 

“Oh.” You toyed with a datapad on your desk to distract yourself from how slowly time was passing. “Why?” 

“Alpha cares about you,” he explained slowly. “More than anyone else.” 

You chuckled softly. “I know I’m his favorite nat-born.” 

Commander Colt shook his head slightly. “You’re his favorite person. He cares about you more than anyone else. Between how much he likes you and how much you’ve done to take care of him - and all my brothers, actually - you’re vod’ika.” 

Little sibling. 

The term made your chest warm with pleasure. “Thank you, Colt.” 

Colt cleared his throat. “Anyway, how are you handling all of this?” 

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine, I suppose. I’m just so… sick of being on Kamino when it goes on lockdown.” 

For a full beat after you had finished speaking, Colt stared at you. At last, he burst out laughing. “I thought you were going to be scared.” 

“I might be eventually,” you said with a shrug. “But right now, I can only think about how I’ve been here every time the lab has been locked down. I understand it’s important, but it’s getting old.”

Colt nodded in commiseration and you gave him a considering look. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” he repeated, seeming stunned when you nodded. “What do you mean?” 

You glanced at your desk, trying to buy some time to find the right phrasing. “The last time there was an invasion, you were hurt pretty badly. I don’t remember it, but Alpha was shaken up and that takes a lot. I gather that it was… close. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I’m fine,” Colt insisted. You weren’t sure about that, but if pretending was how he got through things, you weren’t going to begrudge him the coping mechanism. He turned as if to leave, but stopped before he stepped through your door. “Go to sleep soon, yeah? Limit’s working a long shift to get the medbays prepped, but he asked me to pass on a warning. If he comes by and you’re still here, he’ll tell Alpha.” 

You laughed at that despite yourself. “He probably would.”

Colt chuckled too, patting the doorframe in a gesture that seemed to punctuate his departure. “Goodnight, vod’ika.”

“Goodnight, Colt.”

When you were alone once more, you started getting everything put away for the night… but paused when your datapad slipped from your fingers and clattered against the surface of the table. The screen flickered on in the collision and you frowned, pulling it closer. 

Displaying on the screen were the records that you had been digging into before all of the investigation and shutdown chaos, records you hadn’t been able to finish accessing because you had run out of time. You had told Colt that you would go to bed and you didn’t intend to lie… but this was too intriguing to leave for the next day. 

It was fine, you reasoned. You weren’t tired yet and there was finally time to do some digging. 

Hidden behind a maze of misnamed file pathways and a selection of different passcodes, you found it: records of the clone trooper gene isolation process. The records were old, written when Ko Sai was the Chief Scientist of Kamino. She had been an integral part of creating the clone trooper genetic blueprint. 

That had confused you at first. They were clones of Jango Fett - why would the genes need to be altered at all? But even skimming the notes had been enough to give you an answer: the clone troopers weren’t exact genetic copies at all. Ko Sai had made some changes to make the troopers more loyal, less independent, and less vicious. 

There were a few outliers - especially in the early batches of troopers - and creating any living thing came with risks of aberrations in the genetics, but the experiments had been successful. That was according to Ko Sai’s notes, of course, but they were dry and scientific enough that you assumed the wasn’t much risk of them being exaggerated. 

The changes to trooper personalities were in a group Ko Sai referred to as ‘behavioral traits’. The more chilling half was designated as ‘genetic traits’. 

Genetic traits seemed to be the way the Kaminoans referred to the changes they made to keep themselves in business. Not only did they control things like troopers building muscle faster, but mercilessly capitalistic qualities like the troopers’ accelerated aging process. 

You didn’t like the idea of the changes that had been made to the troopers genes. You were self-reflective enough to realize that part of your aversion was because you didn’t like the idea of gene manipulation in general. The accelerated aging was particular egregious to you since it was actively working to decrease the amount of time you could possibly spend with Alpha. 

But the notes fascinated you - not because of their content, but because through them you could tell that Ko Sai was a deeply paranoid being. 

The records were sealed with a virtual warning: if someone without the proper security codes attempted to slice into them, the files would self-destruct. And not just the files on the record you were viewing. No, the trap would wipe every known copy of the records from any device. The trigger had been built into the file transfer itself and could be detonated at any time.

Your interest was piqued. You had been given full access to everything you needed for your report and had the highest possible security clearance, but you still held your breath as you typed in your access code. 

Thankfully, it worked and you spent a blissful hour reading through all of Ko Sai’s notes and records. A lot of it was gibberish to you and - you suspected - would be to anyone other than a highly-trained geneticist. 

As the hour grew later and you started to worry that Limit really would come to kick you out, you tried to make a copy of the files onto your datapad, but were blocked. You weren’t sure what kind of scientist would keep her files from being copied, but she must have been very certain that she would be able to access that information in other places. 

Before you shut down the datapad entirely, you found a microscopic file attached in the shell of an unrelated topic. It was a simple document that you might have overlooked… if it didn’t force you to enter your password once more. From what you gathered once you could view the vague document, Ko Sai had made copies of all of her information. She had stored them on a collection of personal datapads. 

The description of where to find them was heavily coded, but you gamely copied it onto your own datapad. Then, feeling an echo of Ko Sai’s paranoia, you also jotted it down onto a nearby piece of flimsi. With other topics for the report running thin, maybe finding the original notes from Ko Sai’s experiments would be a good way to extend your assignment.

You spent a few moments staring at the code, jotting some preliminary guesses down beneath the characters. The most common letters were likely overrepresented among the words, unless Ko Sai had been using a rotational cipher. You wouldn’t put it past her, but even rotational ciphers weren’t impossible to figure out.

Cracking the code and extending your report-writing process were things that could wait. You tucked the datapad and flimsi into your bag and shut off the lights in your office. Too much longer and you were worried you really would run into Limit, but you were bringing the codes along for insurance in case it turned into a sleepless night.

Sometimes it was good to have an office so far from your quarters. It kept you involved in the day-to-day life on Kamino and took you through some highly populated areas on the trip. And with the hours you worked, you could use the exercise. But it was an unpleasant trip late at night, when all you wanted was to crawl into bed.

Perhaps you wouldn’t have minded walking through the main sections of Kamino if they weren’t full of cadets giving you suspicious looks. 

It seemed like you had just convinced everyone that you hadn’t caused the first invasion of Kamino. No one had told the cadets many details about what had caused this lockdown, but they paid enough attention to know that you were close to the situation. 

After a few hallways of those wary glances, you cut down a side path. The slightly longer trip was a price you gladly paid in exchange for avoiding all of the watchful eyes. 

You found yourself in a section of the city that housed the learning terminals. They weren’t currently in use - all flash training had been suspended while Kamino was on lockdown and there was no reason for anyone but a cadet to be in the terminal rooms. 

So why were you hearing adult voices coming from one? 

You peeked in through the partially open door, taking in the scene in a millisecond: There were six troopers in the room. Two of them were working at one of the terminals while the other four were observing the display screen at the front of the room. 

Surprisingly, you recognized the troopers. They had arrived on Kamino earlier that day. They weren’t the first to land on-planet after the lockdown had started, but they were one of the earlier groups. 

The reason they had attracted your attention was because of the reaction of the cadets. Most arrivals on Kamino before and after the six troopers were met with warm welcomes (and often a little teasing) from the cadets. But these six were given a wary distance. They didn’t seem bothered by it - in fact, they had seemed to accept that wariness as their due. 

Their attitude struck you as strange. The troopers were loyal, and that quality apparently went down to a genetic level. The idea of troopers who didn’t seem to feel that draw to be close with their brothers was unique, and you were very curious to know how that uniqueness had managed to survive long enough to leave Kamino at all. 

Of course, that curiosity was secondary to their motivations with the learning terminals.

You recognized the file pathways displayed at the front of the room: these troopers were trying to slice into Ko Sai’s private records. 

Perhaps it wouldn’t have been such a crisis if the Kaminoans hadn’t told General Ti that they intended to launch a full investigation of their information. They needed to find out what had been sliced, duplicated, or downloaded. And to get all of that done, they needed to shut down terminal access and cycle all codes and passwords. It was only with the General’s interference that you had managed to retain your own access. 

You were willing to bet that these troopers, whoever they were, didn’t have the same privileges you held. In that case, there was a very real risk that they were about to trigger a complete wipe of Ko Sai’s library of records. 

“Stop!” you cried, bursting through the doors before you could temper your reaction. 

Unsurprisingly, you were met with four drawn blasters. The two troopers at the terminal continued to work, but the others stared at you. 

“Who are you?” one demanded flatly. 

Your hands had risen instinctively, hovering palm-out as you tried very hard to look nonthreatening. “I’m an administrator. I was sent here by the Senate to write a report about the clone troopers.” 

“Proof?” another trooper asked. 

“You can ask anyone about me,” you said quickly, lamenting that you didn’t wear your Senate ID badge on a regular basis. You hadn’t since your first week on Kamino. “I’ve been here for a while.” 

They looked skeptical, but your attention was focused on the large display screen at the front of the room. 

“Please, you have to stop,” you warned them, your desperation rising as you watched a password entry box appear. “Don’t put in your password! Ko Sai-”

The trooper at the terminal had finished entering his password and submitted it without paying any attention to you. A moment later, the screen flashed red and an ominous timer started counting down. 

“Ko Sai put a self-destruct code into her records,” you finished lamely. 

One of the trooper holstered his blaster and turned to look at the display screen, swearing in Mando’a. “Jaing, can you stop it?” 

“Trying…” one of the troopers at the terminal replied.

You watched just as intently as the troopers did - the ones who weren’t aiming blasters at you, anyway. Only moments later, the trooper stopped typing, a slight slackening in his muscles serving as your only hint of the outcome. The trooper beside him swore colorfully. 

“It’s all gone,” one of the troopers summarized, still watching you for any sign of a fight. 

“Yes.” The one who had been working to circumvent Ko Sai’s trap stood - he had answered to the name ‘Jaing’ - neatly replacing the chair at the terminal. “What now?” 

“Now,” the trooper who had put his blaster away said grimly, “we find out a little more about our new friend.” 

“Always liked meeting new people,” the other trooper at the terminal said with a sharp grin, joining the others.

They were standing around you in a loose semi-circle. Three still held blasters aimed at you, so you stayed in your nonthreatening pose. 

“Who are you?” 

You took a breath, trying to keep from sounding scared. “I’m a Republic administrator, sent by the Senate-”

“You said that already,” a previously silent trooper told you, sounding unimpressed. 

“That’s because it’s true.” 

The one you privately thought of as the leader crossed his arms. “Never said it wasn’t. Doesn’t mean we should care.” 

“Ordo,” one of the others warned quietly. 

A chill went down your spine as you realized the rationale behind the warning: if these men didn’t care about your position as a representative of the Galactic Senate, there was something else motivating them. 

“Are you involved in the infiltration of Kamino?” 

One of the troopers laughed abruptly, the sound loud enough to make you flinch. “What are you talking about, civvie?” 

“How else would you have arrived so early?” you asked, voice soft as you fell into musing the convoluted pathways of logic. “You weren’t the first ones here, but you weren’t far behind. No one should have been traveling through this sector outside of official missions and you weren’t on one of those. And now you’re here, looking at top-secret information about the genetic basis of the clone trooper program. I told you I’m a Senate representative and you’re still thinking about shooting me.”

“See, this is what happens when nat-borns try to think,” one of the men said, chuckling. It was a good act, but you could see the utter lack of emotion in his eyes. “You’re seeing patterns that don’t exist.”

“No,” you refused decisively. “There are too many strange coincidences here. My gut is saying something is off. Why are you here?”

“I have a better question,” Ordo countered. “How did you know about the data wipe code in those files?”

“How did you know about those files at all?” another asked.

“Good point, Mereel,” Ordo congratulated, turning pointedly to face you. “How did you know about Ko Sai’s private holorecords?”

“I’m writing a report about clone troopers,” you repeated firmly. “I was given access to pull from all sources in order to make my report as complete as possible.” 

“Wait,” Jaing ordered, stepping forward. His gaze was intense as he asked, “Do you have a copy of Ko Sai’s data?” 

“No.” The tension lowered slightly, but Jaing was still watching you. “She built in a feature that doesn’t allow for any of the files to be copied.”

“So,” one of the unnamed troopers asked. “Should we neutralize her here or somewhere easier to clean up?” 

You struggled to stay impassive even as your stomach dropped. 

“Udesii, A’den,” Mereel said, holding a hand out. “Killing a Senate representative may not be the best move here.” 

“Why not?” A’den asked, grinning at you. “Planet’s already on lockdown. The long-necks’ll probably think their spy was the one who did it. I doubt if anyone has seen this one since things went dark.”

You straightened, giving him your coldest look. “Commander Colt would disagree with you. As would Captain Alpha-17.” 

The group had grown quiet at Colt’s name, but noticeably relaxed when you mentioned Alpha. 

“Nice try, civvie,” Ordo told you. “Seventeen is off-planet. Probably will be for a while, with the mess they walked into.” 

“What did you do to him?” you demanded, taking a furious and unwise step forward. The blaster barrels weren’t quite touching you, but they weren’t much more than a deep breath away. “If you hurt him-”

“Fiery little thing, isn’t she?” one of the others asked, grinning at the others even as his grip on the blaster stayed firm. 

“So much concern about clones,” A’den mocked. “Don’t you know we’re disposable?” 

“Speaking of,” one of the others interrupted, “she knows who we are and what we were looking for. We need to take care of this before we leave the planet.” 

Jaing lifted a brow at him. “Does that mean you’ve got an idea, Prudii?” 

“The balconies off the lower platforms were always useful. Cuts down on the mess and the body falls right into the sea,” Prudii said with a shrug. One of the others snorted and Prudii frowned at him. “Problem, Komr’k?” 

Komr’k shook his head, clearly fighting a smile. You waited with the others. Nothing seemed to be particularly amusing about the conversation, but perhaps it was just because it was your death that they were discussing. “Just thinking of all the applications of the term ‘aiwha-bait’.”

The reactions ranged from smirks to eye-rolls, but no one seemed to share your growing feeling of nausea. It probably wouldn’t hurt, so long as they executed you with a blaster bolt to the head, but you were getting a little dizzy as you thought about what would happen to your body after you died. And, of course, there were the people you would leave behind. 

No. 

It took some effort, but you pulled yourself out of the spiral you were drifting into. You had survived the Separatist attack on Kamino. You had faced down Ventress, working with some of the best soldiers in the galaxy to make it through the experience relatively unharmed. You could survive this, too. You would. 

The training terminals weren’t close to the lower balconies, not by a long shot. You had visited the balconies many times with Alpha. You knew the area well. There would be plenty of places to attract attention or slip away. And if you couldn’t manage to do either, you would make it loud and violent, enough to attract attention. 

“Let’s get moving,” Ordo ordered as A’den gestured toward the room’s entrance with his blaster. “Don’t do anything stupid.” 

You lifted your chin as you stepped toward the door. Could he see the determination on your face? You almost hoped he could. You wouldn’t passively accept being executed. A hand grabbed your shoulder, tugging so roughly that you stumbled forward.

“Someone should have given you the same warning, Ordo,” Alpha said menacingly, sweeping you through the doorway and behind him. He was in full armor, blocking the doorway with his bulk. 

“Alpha, no!” you urged him. “They have blasters.” 

“So do I,” he said, voice steely. “Plus enough detonators to make the first invasion look like a training mishap.” 

“We have some business with the civvie,” one of the troopers started. It was much more difficult to tell who was speaking when you couldn’t see any of them, but it didn’t matter. Alpha interrupted before anyone could say more than that. 

“Ulyc sushir,” Alpha said menacingly. Even from behind him, his voice rumbled through your chest. “You men are going to stand down. Forget whatever little geroya you had going with her. You’re going to let us walk away. If you think you have anything else to say to her - unlikely - you will go through me. Understood?” 

There was no answer. The next moment, Alpha repeated, “Understood?”

“Copy.” 

That single word seemed to be as far as the troopers were willing to go. Alpha took a step back, carefully keeping himself between you and the others until you were out of sight. 

“Who-?” 

“Wait.” 

You didn’t love being commanded like an animal, but considering that he had likely saved your life, you followed Alpha’s instruction. 

He activated his comlink, keying in a code from memory. 

The voice on the other end - male, older but not elderly - answered almost immediately. “Alph-”

“Call off your dogs,” Alpha demanded, durasteel in his tone. 

“If you’re talking about my boys, they’re on assignment on Kamino.” The voice was genial, friendly, almost paternal. Still, there was a sly undertone that warned you there was something more happening. “I have no say in what they do there.”

“They almost killed a civilian.” Alpha glanced at you, as if worried that you would be startled by his blunt appraisal of the situation. You didn’t react - you had known where things had been headed. “I need to be sure they won’t try it a second time.” 

“The only reason a civilian would be in danger is if they interfered,” the man said. “Dangerous thing in a warzone.” 

“Keep them under control or I’ll send you the tags.”

The staticky silence on the comlink turned deafening, almost icy. “We’ve never had reason to argue, Seventeen. If you push this, I guarantee that will change. You don’t want a revenge-driven mando on your shebs.”

“And you don’t want me to take a closer look at who wiped Dengar’s records from the Kaminoan databases,” Alpha countered. “The civvie is off-limits, Skirata. Tell them before we have a misunderstanding.” 

“You have to understand what they’re working for,” Skirata wheedled. “It’s important to them. To all of you. One civilian loss is a low price to pay.”

“Off. Limits.” Alpha bit out sharply. 

The quiet stretched as both sides battled for supremacy. Eventually, Skirata sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. But you know how clever my boys can be when they have an obstacle to get around.”

“Warn them,” Alpha advised, “or you’ll all find out how clever I can be.” 

“None of us are di’kutla enough to underestimate you, Alpha,” Skirata said, sounding a bit amused. “I only wish you’d find your way to working with us instead of against us.”

“Not as long as you’re trying to take out innocent civilians,” Alpha told him, severing the connection before Skirata could respond. 

“Now you,” Alpha said, glancing back over his shoulder. It wasn’t an easy motion to accomplish while wearing full armor and a helmet, so you moved to walk beside him. Just as well - trailing behind him like a lost tooka wasn’t your favorite thing. 

When you were next to him, Alpha removed his helmet and gave you a hard look. “How much do you understand about what just happened?” 

“Not much,” you admitted. “I know those troopers were trying to access Ko Sai’s records, even when I warned them not to. Who are they?” 

“They are known as the Null-class troopers,” Alpha told you slowly. “The first clones of Jango that the Kaminoans ever created.” 

“I thought the Alpha-class troopers were the first.” You were working from the assumption that no part of the conversation was going to offend Alpha, but you studied his expression for any hint of displeasure or hurt. 

“We were the first viable ones,” he explained. “The Nulls were too much like Jango. The Kaminii hadn’t figured out which genes to control for yet. The Null-class didn’t take orders, not to standard. Those six were slated for termination, but Kal Skirata saved them. He had just landed on-planet, a Mando mercenary hired by Jango to train the troopers.”

“Those six?” you echoed. “Were there other Nulls?” 

“There were twelve.” 

You swallowed against the bile that was trying to rise from your twisting stomach. “What happened to the other six?” 

“Embryos weren’t viable,” Alpha said shortly. “They never made it past that point. The six you just met are the only Nulls that ever existed and the only ones who ever will.”

“I… can’t say I’m upset about that,” you admitted.

Alpha huffed a near-silent laugh. “Why did you try to stop them from accessing Ko Sai’s files?” 

“She built a self-destruct trigger into them.” You were satisfied by the look of surprise on Alpha’s face. “Trying an incorrect password destroys all files on the system, and every remote copy that got saved. They didn’t realize their passwords had been locked down while the Kaminoans investigate their internal information.”

“And what was in the records?” he asked, guiding you around a corner with a hand against your back. You drank in the touch like it could sustain you. 

“Genetic information,” you answered. “I was reading it before I left my office. It was all about the way the Kaminoans had altered the Fett gene to create the ideal clone trooper personality. Ko Sai’s words, of course.”

Alpha grunted at that, but didn’t give any other response. 

“Do you think they’ll come back?” you asked after a few moments of silence. 

Alpha glanced sidelong at you. “Not if they know what’s good for them. But that’s why we’re going to your quarters. Better security.” 

You nodded. The two of you were close enough to your room that you didn’t feel the need to make any more conversation. As you entered the code to get into your room, you glanced back at Alpha. He was facing the hallway you had just come from, clearly keeping watch against anyone who might have followed you.

“I just need to brush my teeth, then the ‘fresher is all yours,” you said softly. 

Alpha grunted again, stepping through the door behind you. He worked on the interior panel, setting up additional security measures. There was no such thing as a slice-proof door panel, but those measures would give you some extra time if someone started working to get inside.

You left him to it, brushing your teeth and changing into pajamas before you left the refresher. Alpha had already removed his armor and dimmed the lights, sitting in just his body glove as he waited for the refresher. His leg jiggled with tension. 

As you stepped past each other, Alpha’s fingers rose to stroke down your forearm in a single gentle touch. Then he was inside the refresher and the shower water turned on as you listened. 

You had every intention of being awake when Alpha came back out, but you must have drifted off. The next thing you knew, the bed dipped as Alpha got under the covers behind you. His arm snaked around your torso, pulling you tight against him. You smiled, snuggling a little closer, but frowned. 

Alpha was trembling. 

There was a fine tremor running through his entire body, only perceptible now that you were close enough to feel it. His breathing was slightly irregular, easy enough to note now that you were looking out for it. 

Turning around in his arms wasn’t easy, especially when Alpha’s grip was so tight. But you managed, gently cupping his jaw when you were facing him. It was too dark to see, but the tightness of his jaw muscles under your palm was enough to know what he was feeling. 

“Alpha?” you asked softly. “Are you okay?” 

His breath left him in a shuddering exhale. “Almost lost you, neverd’ika.” 

“Never,” you assured him. “I would have found a way to get free. I wouldn’t leave you like that.” 

He laughed slightly. “You make it sound like a choice.”

“No choice at all,” you countered. “If my choices are between staying with you and letting someone take me away like that… I would have fought like hell.” 

Alpha was quiet, but you could feel the way his lips parted and closed over and over until he decided what he wanted to say. “The fact that you don’t seem concerned is enough to make me worry. Fear isn’t good, but it can keep you alive.” 

“You think I wasn’t scared?” you asked, letting your disbelief come through in your voice. “Alpha, I was terrified. Trem has been a great teacher, but I don’t think there’s much I could have done against six troopers. I think I’m in a bit of shock. When it all hits me, I’ll be a mess for a while.”

“I’ll take care of you if that happens.” 

Alpha’s vow made you smile. “I’ll gladly take you up on that. As long as you let me take care of you now.” 

He inched forward, searching blindly in the darkness until your lips met in a careful kiss. “I have a few ideas about what we could do.”

---

Author's Note - There will be a spicy mini chapter to follow this one. Nothing vital to the plot happens in it - you will not miss anything if you choose not to read it. It will be posted on my NSFW alt account. If you don't know where that is, send me a message and I'll give you the username as long as you have 18+ in your bio. If you're under 18 and find it of your own accord, you're claiming to be mature enough to read adult content.

For those who have not read the Republic Commando series, the Null ARCs and Kal Skirata are fascinating characters! You're seeing them at their most ruthless here, but they have a lot of depth. They're on Kamino to complete their own mission, which can make them come off as antagonists, but life is rarely that simple.

My loose plan is to post one chapter every month, but the spicy chapters don't count toward that number. So I'll see you in a week or two for some 'quality time' with Alpha, and next month to see what happens after this!

I'm so glad to be back! Thank you to everyone who waited so patiently or sent words of encouragement. <3 For anyone new to this story, that long of a hiatus is not typical for me. I don't anticipate it happening again.

[wizardofrozz]

Learning to Trust

Ordo Skirata x reader, mention of Mereel and Kal Skirata

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: swearing, mention of war, mostly just fluff

A/N: I got punched in the face with this idea and amazed myself with how fast I wrote it lmao hope you enjoy! ❤️

jagyc’kovid: dickhead

shabuir: motherfucker

It was peaceful. The gentle undercurrent of the water rocked the Aay’han, reminding you of a mother rocking her newborn. The co-pilot seat wasn’t the most comfortable but if you sat at an angle, your feet resting on the control panel, you could let your muscles relax enough that you could possibly nap. Your eyes followed the bright, glimmering aquatic life that swam past, watching them shimmer in the sunlight that streamed through the water. The Aay’han was floating off the coast of the capital city, waiting for Sergeant Skirata and Mereel to com for a pickup. 

You had been undercover for the Republic for…a long time, gathering intel about the manufacturing of Separatist droids. Life had been fairly normal, well as normal as it could be for a Republic spy until a certain Mandalorian and his small squad of clones came crashing through your front door. Literally. You glanced at the pilot’s chair, the corner of your lips lifting. 

Ordo was stretched out in the chair beside you, his long legs crossed at the ankles. His arms were folded over his chest, his head tipped forward until his chin nearly touched his chest. His empty Mandalorian helmet sat on the floor beside his chair and every once in a while, you could hear faint, staticky voices floating from inside. The muted shimmer of the water threw a faint glow over his face; Ordo looked peaceful, his usually tense expression slack, his eyes closed. 

He was sleeping. You muffled a chuckle against the back of your hand, carefully lowering your feet to the floor. The co-pilot chair groaned as you stood and you paused, half-standing, to dart your eyes back towards Ordo. He huffed heavily through his nose but otherwise didn’t move. 

It took a few minutes of rustling through cabinets as quietly as possible, having to stop a few times when you made too much noise before you finally found a blanket. It smelled a bit musty but it would do. You unfolded it on your back to the cockpit, smirking at Ordo’s sleeping form before you carefully draped the blanket over him. He shifted lazily, his brow wrinkling for a moment and you stood a little straighter and held your breath. Ordo’s lashes fluttered, his dark glassy eyes taking a moment to focus but they quickly lifted to where you stood over him. 

“Sorry to wake you,” you murmured with an apologetic smile. 

“Wasn’t sleepin’,” Ordo grumbled, dragging himself into a sitting position. The furrow between his brows deepened as he looked down at the blanket pooling in his lap. There was an odd look on his face, one you had seen occasionally in the time you’d spent with him. The innocent, almost confused expression always made your heart ache and it was even worse when he tilted his head back to look up at you. 

“I thought you’d be more uncomfortable,” you explained, gesturing to the blanket as you leaned against the back of his chair. Ordo nodded slowly, absently rubbing the fabric between his gloved fingers. “You can try and go back to sleep if you’d like.”

Ordo somehow looked more tense than usual for a moment, before dropping his eyes to the blanket again. “Alright.” For some reason, it surprised you; accidentally falling asleep was one thing but this showed that he trusted you enough to willingly let himself rest. 

“Hm, you must really trust me,” you teased. Ordo turned in his chair again and you were suddenly aware of how close he was, his face close enough that you could see the faint freckles on his cheeks. Ordo was always intense but the way he looked at you, bright brown eyes smoldering, made your stomach somersault. 

“I do.” He spoke softly like it was a secret but there was no uncertainty in his voice. Your breath caught when he smiled, crooked and boyish, disarmingly charming without even trying. Sometimes you wondered if he was aware of it but based on some of the more…awkward encounters you’d had with him, you were pretty sure it was natural. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, meaning it wholeheartedly. Ordo’s smile started to fade but you didn’t miss the way his eyes darted down to your mouth, his tongue poking out to wet his lips before he forced his gaze elsewhere. He cleared his throat quietly and when his eyes found yours again you caught the muted anxiety that flashed across his face. 

You had no idea where the confidence came from that had you leaning down, bringing your face even closer to his. Ordo tensed but didn’t pull away, letting the strained silence linger. A shiver zipped up your spine when he tilted his head slowly, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips. He paused, leaving almost no space between you and him and you could feel his slow, rhythmic breathing against your chin. 

“Can I?” he asked softly. 

“Please.” 

A soft gasp filled the air when he closed the space and you weren’t sure if you made the sound or if he had. The kiss was hesitant, neither of you moving for a moment until one of his large hands closed around your bicep and you melted against him, sighing through your nose. It was clear Ordo didn’t have much experience but he didn’t seem to mind following your lead. He inhaled sharply when your tongue swept over his bottom lip but he quickly caught on, parting his lips. 

The low groan from deep in his chest made you shiver, a hand coming to cup the back of his head, your fingers threading through his soft curls. 

“Ord’ika? You read me?” You and Ordo jumped so hard at the familiar voice that your heads knocked together, each of you quickly reaching up to rub the now-aching spot. Ordo growled through clenched teeth, twisting around to punch a button on the control panel; despite the pain blooming across your forehead, you barely stifled a laugh. 

“What?” he snapped, glaring at the blue hologram that popped up. Mereel tilted his head, arching a brow but there was the hint of a smirk on his face. 

“What’d you do to your head?”

“None of your business, jagyc’kovid. What d’ya want?” 

“Pickup would be nice,” Mereel sighed with a shrug. He glanced over his shoulder with a badly hidden smirk and winked at who you assumed was Kal. 

“Send coordinates,” Ordo grumbled, ending the call without letting Mereel respond. “Shabuir.”

You giggled, biting your lip when Ordo threw a narrow-eyed look in your direction. “Come on, let’s go get them.” 

“Should leave 'em,” Ordo huffed, rubbing his forehead one last time before dropping his hands to the panel again and starting the flight sequence. The smile that spread across your face was fonder than you thought possible and you leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss on his cheek. You settled into the co-pilot chair, glancing over at him again with a smirk.  

Ordo refused to look at you but there was no denying that his cheeks were a little redder than before. 

Ragu list:

@a-single-tulip @wings-and-beskar @anxiouspineapple99 @dystopicjumpsuit @secondaryrealm @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @msmeredithrose @starrylothcat @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @wolffegirlsunite @clonemedickix @sev-on-kamino

[wanderinginksplot]

Voices Carry

The Null ARC troopers have heard a rumor - a Republic senator claims to have inside information about clone trooper genetic material. When they decide it's worth investigating, Mereel offers to slice the data during a simple comm call with the senator.

The mission doesn't offer much of a challenge... or so he thought. Mereel hadn't counted on a stalwart and unyielding senatorial assistant foiling his every effort.

Mereel Skirata x fem!reader

Rating: G (for now - rating WILL change)

Word Count: 800

Warnings: plans of attempted espionage

Next | Masterlist

---

Part One

“But does he actually have anything?” 

It was the question that had dominated the last hour, and the conversation was starting to circle. 

“The only way we can be sure is to check for ourselves,” Mereel decreed.

“Why would some boracyk Senator from a backwater planet have information about the kaminii gene cloning program?” Jaing asked. 

It wasn’t the first time he had asked it. What was more, Jaing’s perfect memory meant he knew he had asked the question before and Mereel was getting tired of giving the same answer. 

But he did it anyway. “Because it’s a weird lead. It’s weird that he said it in the first place. But Julgum is a karkin’ Senator. I can get through his entire library of information in less time than we’ve been talking about it. All I need is access to his office’s mainframe.”

All of this had started when Prudii had uncovered an interview aired on a fringe news source, featuring the senator from Farrfin. Senator Julgum wasn’t a popular man, mostly because of his unique and unpopular views. But Farrfin was notoriously corrupt and the general opinion was that his money had bought more votes than any of his politics had.

But the Null troopers didn’t care about politics - except maybe Ordo, who seemed to thrive on useless information. No, their only interest in Senator Julgum stemmed from the point in the interview when he said that the galaxy should be wary of clone troopers.

“I’ve received some information about the genes that the Kaminoans used,” he had claimed. “It all seems fine from the outside, but when you start to dig a little deeper… Well, let’s just say that I won’t be rushing to sign any clone rights bills into law until I figure out how far the problems run.”

The Nulls were split evenly between the two sides: Ordo, Jaing, and A’den thought it was a waste of time. Kom’rk, Prudii, and Mereel thought it was worth following up on. 

There was only one thing for it: Mereel looked over at where the figure of Kal Skirata stood, pondering the arguments in silence. “What do you think, Kal’buir?”

Silence settled over the Nulls as their adoptive father figure considered his answer. Whatever Kal Skirata decided, the group would do. That was the way it had always been, and he had never steered them in the wrong direction. Well, he had, but he always took any failures harder than the Nulls themselves did. 

“Mereel is right,” he said eventually, and Mereel felt a fierce pride spike through his chest at the implied praise. “It’s a lead, and we should follow up on any of those that come our way. Mer’ika, it won’t take you long to get into the Senator’s system, will it?”

“Not at all,” Mereel assured. “In and out in a few minutes at most. Then another day to sift through the data.”

“I think it’s a chance worth taking,” Kal said, glancing at the men around the room. Some were physically present, some were holographic, and all were watching him with the typical intensity born of being raised on the actively-hostile Kamino. “But I’m willing to hear arguments.”

“No, Kal’buir,” A’den refused. “If you think we should check it out, we will. Go for it, Mereel.”

Mereel flashed a grin, brimming with his typical confidence. “If the good senator has any real information, we’ll have it before the end of the week.”

Yes, confidence was never an issue with Mereel, but he would be the first to admit that accessing Julgum’s system was more difficult than anyone had expected.

The nearest he could figure was that the jetii had fixed up the network in Julgum’s office for him. Mereel would need the key code to access the network itself. Normally, that wasn’t much of a deterrent, but tracking down a key code took time. And this code in particular reset every few hours on an ever-changing time interval. 

Mereel was one of the better slicers in the galaxy, but even he had some limits. The effort it would take to access the senator’s office network just didn’t make sense, especially when the Nulls were working on a time limit. Even a slice code took time to construct, especially if the user wanted to keep anyone from knowing that the system had been breached.

Fortunately, there was a way around either necessity: he could contact the senator directly. If Mereel’s comlink was patched through to the senator himself, he would be able to access the mainframe and pull any (or all) information from the system without being detected and without spending weeks working on a functional slice code.

All he had to do was call.

---

Author's Note - Thank you for giving this fic a chance! Since it's shorter than my typical chapters (by a lot), I'm posting the second chapter today as well. Feel free to check it out if you enjoyed this one!

You can find other works on my masterlist or sign up for my taglist here. The taglist for these first two chapters will contain people who asked to be tagged in new series and those who asked to be tagged in Legends materials. Part Three will only be those who edit their taglist choices. I'm happy to untag anyone who asks!

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[mariandjarin]

Masterlist by @mariandjarin

Art by Bing AI

*Crossovers*

Hobbit movies crossover

*Bad Batch*

Crosshair x oc

Hunter x Elora Danan

Crosshair x Lucy Gray Baird

Crosshair x reader

*Dinbo*

Bo Katan's thoughts diary

*Arcane*

Masterlist

*Republic Commando*

Eleni Skirata diary

*Nimona*

Ballister x Ambrosius

*Music tributes and arrangements*

John x Makee 1

John x Makee 2

Master chief childhood memories

Bucky Barnes

Mandalorian theme lyrics

Punisher x Jedi Survivor

Revenge Arcane

Bo Katan memories

Joel's song

Hunger Games x Arcane

House of the dragon x Mandalorian

House of the dragon x Republic Commando

Armando and Marcela

Mandomera

POTC x Mandalorian

Dinbo mando'a song

Dinbo 1

Dinbo 2

Boba Fett and Sintas

Darman and Etain

Kal Skirata

*Drawings*

Master Chief draw

[hellhound5925]

I'm going to post my fanfic here because I want people to read it and give me feed back 😊 I'm not a great writer bit I figured I'd give it a shot. All of you who have written have inspired me.

Masterlist

Cyare Verd *Beloved Warrior*

This is going to be a female oc x the good captain rex (CT-7567). I am not going to follow the clone wars tv show but make it my own. Criticism is welcome. Anything written in italics are going to be thoughts. I am currently undecided if I will go with a view point at any time other than the reader/my OC, but if that changes I will make a note. Also there will be lots of Mando'a thrown into there but I will provide a translation (I can't stand reading it when you have no clue what it means, so I promise I will not do that to you). The website I will be using I will link under this description. Also anything in italics is a thought.

Also I highly recommend the republic commando books by Karen Traviss. Some of the characters I slide in here are from her books (Ordo, Mereel, Kal Skirata).

I do not own the right to them or any of the Starwars characters.

Mandoa.org

[clonewarslover55]

I feel like there’s not enough kal fics, so any fic about him would be great. He and the reader spending a day together maybe?

Spending the day with Kal Skirata

Kal X Reader //Fluff//

Absolutely!!! I loved this request. Kal definitely deserves more content. He was the first DILF to appear in the repcomm books after all……

Notes: May contain spoilers for the final Repcomm novels! So beware! Also I’m making an established relationship where kal and the reader have been together for a while; so Kal’s sons see the reader as their other parent

(Also in a universe where Kal and Darman don’t hate one another because Kal told Darman about Etain being pregnant. So Omega Squad is there and OKAY!!)

Warnings: Established relationship, reader is gender neutral, Kal and his kids are Mando’a but it isn’t specified if reader is; so it’s up to you

Kal was always an early riser, some days he was even up before the sun. Like today. He stood outside of Kyrimorut, watching as the sun of Mandalore rose. You smiled as you walked up behind him.

You knew Kal heard you coming, he just didn’t say anything. You hugged him from behind, resting your head on his shoulder. “Good morning Cyar’ika.” He spoke quietly, his voice a soft rumble.

You hummed a reply, pressing a kiss to his slightly scruffy five o’clock shadow. Both of you stood there in silence as the sun rose, the golden glow coating the land surrounding Kyrimorut.

“You know….” Kal spoke, looking at you from the corner of his striking blue eyes. “We haven’t had a day to ourselves in ages.” You grinned at his words, he was right. “You’re right!”

He turned around, his hands now on your hips. “I love our boys…...But let's go do something. Without them for once.” You laughed at his words, nodding in agreement. “Of course! We’ll have to make it up to them later though….We know they’ll get mad.” Kal only huffed at that.

You leaned back into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder once again. He gently swayed both of you back and forth, humming in your ear. “We should go to that small hole in a wall diner in town….” You muttered, “The one with the really good food.” Kal nodded, his stomach grumbling on que.

“Then what, my Cyare?” You shrugged, “Lets wing it and find out?” Kal smiled at that, he loved the sound of that.

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

*Keldabe, a few hours later*

After some killer breakfast you went for a stroll in the market area with your Mandalorian lover. You picked up some essentials you needed back at the big house along the way of course.

“We should get the boys some sweets while we’re here.” Kal sighed at your words, “You spoil them.” You busted out laughing, “And you don’t?!” You began laughing harder, Kal glaring daggers at you.

“Ah shut up. Give an old man some sympathy, Cyare!” You continued to laugh, Kal holding your arm in his. He was holding you up at this point, your laughing fit coming to a stop.

“Okay okay.” You grinned at Kal, “I’m done. Sorry.” Kal only rolled his eyes, snorting. You grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Kal couldn’t keep the frown on his face after the kiss.

“Come on ‘old man!’ We got some shopping to do!” Kal shook his head at your words, a grin still pulling at his lips. You grinned back at him, leading the way through the crowd.

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

*Kyrimorut, a few hours later.*

You and Kal dropped the two large bags of sweets off in the kitchen before heading outside once again. You two decided to take a walk in the forest that surrounded Kyrimorut; Kal, of course, armed just in case.

You two were lucky to get outside into the woods without a certain Strill following.

As you walked your hands were intertwined, Kal’s rough calloused hand bringing you comfort. Oh how you loved your old Mando…..You and Kal talked the whole way, mainly about your large family. Like how Kad was growing up so fast and how you two were expecting a new grandchild or two.

Right before the sun set you two made your way back to the house so you could watch the sunset in the same place as the sunrise. It was your ritual with Kal, watching the sunrise and sunset in the same place.

He sat down on the grass, you between his legs with your back against his broad chest. “What a great day.” Kal pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “Yeah.”

Once nightfall came you two went inside, greeted by a room full of clones. All of your sons sat there, Darman was even there with Kad in his lap.

Corr was the first out of the group of sons to speak. “In thanks for the sweets I-” He yelped when Prudii and Niner slapped the back of his head, “I mean WE made dinner for you two love birds!”

You and Kal grinned widely. “Thank you boys!” You spoke, pulling the closest one in for a hug. The others quickly joined, wrapping Kal and yourself in one giant clone group hug.

You couldn’t ask for a better way to finish an incredible day.

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If you’d like to be added to my taglist the link is on my masterlist! 

and remember! requests are open!!

[crimson-dxwn]

At Odds Chapter 5

Summary: Kal gets the shock of a lifetime, Mij Gilamar breaks HIPAA, and Mereel Skirata is serious for once. Ori considers her choices. 

Warnings: Mando profanity, pregnancy, SPOILERS for Republic Commando books (all but the last one)

Words: enough (trying not to measure my writing by how many words I can get down on a page these days)

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

Keldabe, Northern Mandalore

Imperial Garrison

Summer, 18 BBY

They leave her in a sparse cell. The Empire, ever prepared it seems, has plenty of the tiny rooms built into the west wing of their new garrison. The troopers leave her to her thoughts with no inkling of how long she’ll be imprisoned here. The officer was just some pumped-up kid, there was no way any charges would stick. She was sure those trooper helmets had cameras, too. They’d be able to prove she was innocent. Or someone would find her first - Mij would notice when she didn’t show up for her shift. 

The room is large enough for her to pace three steps in each direction, just enough to fit a cot, latrine, and a small sink. And a poorly hidden camera in the upper corner near the door. Her cheekbone throbs and Ori uses the minuscule sink to splash water on the area. It’s lukewarm and does a poor job. But it’s something to do, to focus on instead of the pure panic that she can feel rising from her gut. She’s trapped here. Her comm is gone. She rubs below the cut where she can feel dried blood and the water runs rusty with it.

A knock booms at the door and she flinches, sending a jolt of pain through her face. A sleek- looking droid enters and makes its way towards her.

“I am PH-1477, here to process you into the Imperial prison system. Cooperate and no disciplinary action will be necessary.”

Still dazed, she nods and the droid seems to accept it as an affirmative answer. Her right arm is yanked out in front of her and she feels a prick of pain before she can even register what’s happening. A blue light scans her palms and fingers for prints. Then a full body scan. She gives her full name. And then the droid glides out of the room and she’s left with her thoughts once again. Despite the throb that has migrated from her cheek to the side of her head, Ori decides to try and get some rest, finding that in spite of everything she’s absolutely exhausted. It must be the come-down from the adrenaline. 

How could this morning feel so long ago? In the course of twelve hours she’d nearly gotten herself arrested twice, succeeded once, thrown up, passed out and broken quite possibly more than one bone in her face. The worst part about her day is that through the durasteel door, she can hear more cell doors opening and closing and bodies hitting walls, and bodies hitting other bodies. Jumbled words and sounds bounce off the durasteel and into her cell as she finally drifts off into fitful sleep.

She’s small again, that she knows from memory. It’s dark out, and cold. Her hands, even tucked in the fur-lined mittens her mother had given her, are stiff with it. Orla is five, and it’s Munin Ca - Long Night to the aruetii. Her favorite Mandalorian holiday. It’s so cold that the snow under her boots practically squeaks, but it means that the sky is clear and every star in the sky glitters when she lays on her back with her friends making angels in the snow. 

Around the fire they tell stories about friends and family who have passed on in the last year. Her buir talks about her ba’buir, his father. Asa Beviin. She’s in her mama’s lap, trying to cry as silently as possible because she misses her ba’buir, so much it hurts. Ori is old enough to understand now that she’ll never see him again. Mama gives her a few sips of her shig and she feels better when her buir tells stories about ba’buir that make the people around them laugh. It hurts a little less knowing that other people miss him too. 

Ori is so warm and sleepy from being near the fire, and she tries so hard to keep her eyes open. She’s on ba’buir’s lap now - Asa’s wife - and she carries Ori to their tent to tuck her in. Ba’buir smells like campfire and berry-scented shig and hugs her close to her chest until she falls into a deep sleep. 

-

Finally she wakes, body stiff from lying on the narrow hard cot for what feels like hours. The dream that should have comforted her has only set her off kilter emotionally. She’s ashamed that despair has set in so quickly. But the Empire had shown so far that it was efficient, ruthlessly so, and there wasn’t any guarantee - at least that she was aware of - of a fair trial, let alone a trial at all. They could stand her up against a wall and slot her and nobody would be the wiser. Consuming nausea interrupts her spiraling thoughts as she sits up, barely making it to the commode before she’s retching up pure stomach acid. Her body is rebelling against an empty stomach, she knows, but there’s nothing to fix the problem. She dry heaves. 

Paralyzed on the floor, she breathes slowly in and out through her nose. Someone will find her. Mij will know something is wrong and Kal...Kal can find anyone. Or at least that was the rumor around the karyai when she visited. He has a dozen or so ARCs and commandos at his disposal on any given day - the most elite soldiers in the galaxy, trained by one of the most dangerous mercenaries Mandalore has ever produced. They will find her. 

———

Keldabe Med Center

Keldabe, Northern Mandalore

Summer, 18 BBY

Kal hurries through the med center doors, careful to check the filters in his helmet before he starts his search for Mij. The chakaar had summoned him down to the med center again, as if he didn’t have enough on his plate. He loved the man like a brother, but damn if he couldn’t have told him whatever it was that was so kriffing urgent two days ago when he was last in town. It makes him twitchy to be out in the open these days, with the Empire openly flaunting what amounts to biological warfare, and with a bounty still on his head. 

With the doc going absolutely off the wall on those troopers the other day, he hopes she’s feeling a bit more stable today. He understands. After weeks and weeks of fighting, a little frustration can send you over the edge. She’d had the exact same look in her eye he’d seen a hundred times. Even in his boys. The human body has break points and she’d obviously hit one. Kal doesn’t judge - he’s been there. Thinking back to what was now over a year ago - watching Etain slaughtered in front of Darman - he’d lost it. They were human, and it was only natural.

“Kal!” Mij flags him down in the atrium of the center. The man somehow looks even more haggard than the last time they’d met; he looked like his last meal was weeks ago. And even more concerning, Kal sees panic in the man’s eyes. Not even on Kamino had he seen Doc Gilamar this bad.

“Mij. What the kriff is going on?” The doctor runs his hand over his face, smoothing the lines there briefly before they etched themselves back around his sunken eyes. The bottom half is covered by a mask, like all the staff here. Kal notices the skin above the edge is rubbed raw.

“Have you heard from Dr. Beviin?” He hasn’t. Not since she’d made a spectacle of herself and passed out in the atrium a few days ago. “She didn’t show up for her shift this morning.” 

“You could’ve called me with this Mij,” he replies, “I haven’t seen or heard from her for three days.” 

“She’s not on a house call at Kyrimorut?” 

“No...” Kal was not about to let Mij’s sense of panic bleed into him. 

“She’s not one to skip shifts.” Kal’s friend sits in a chair by a room, taking a break from his anxious pacing. There’s blood spray on the top of his scrubs and his neck. “Shab.”

“Spit it out, Gilamar. You look like you need a fucking break. She probably just overslept.” Mij glares daggers at him. They both know she didn’t oversleep. His friend looks like a ghost of himself.

“Fine. You want me to check in on her?” The doc sags with relief in his chair. 

“Please...Kal...I shouldn’t even be telling you this but...” Again he runs his hand down his face, rubs at his bloodshot eyes. “You’d find out sooner or later.”

He waits expectantly.

“She’s pregnant.” His stomach drops. Mij’s head is in his hands.

“And you let her work in this?” Dread is rising with his ire. He considers the chaos around them, the spatter on Mij’s scrubs. He doesn’t want to be angry with his friend but is finding it difficult. 

“She didn’t disclose it on her forms, I had no idea until the other day. It came back in her bloodwork.” Shab. “She might not have even known.” 

That was bantha shit if he’s ever heard it. The woman was on top of everything. In what universe could she not know? He thinks back to watching her sleep, the exhaustion on her features, how her eyes widened when she’d checked her datapad...kriff. 

“How far along?” Mij looks up from the cradle of his hands, puzzled. 

“Why does that…”

“Just tell me.” The doctor’s eyes narrow. Exhausted as he is, not much gets past the old sargeant. 

“Ten weeks.” 

Kal’s never been as quick as his boys at figures, not even when they were small. But he’s always accurate. He is already putting a plan in place to find her. Not that it mattered whose kid it was, but his boys had been picking up whispers. Whispers he didn’t like about what the Empire had been getting up to on Mandalore. Mandoade were dying in droves these days and Kal was not about to let doc become one of them.

In all likelihood she was at home, exhausted, and had slept through an alarm. For now at least, he keeps his temper in check. No use getting worked up over nothing.

--------

Keldabe, Northern Mandalore

Imperial Garrison

Summer, 18 BBY

1 Day later

Durasteel cuffs shine around her wrists in front of her as more troopers usher them to the transport. It has a Mining Guild insignia on the side, and Ori looks for any other identifying marks as a clue to where the Empire is taking them. Nothing. 

The stormtrooper wearing a pauldron near the front of the line holds a hand up to his helmet, receiving a transmission. The line of prisoners backs up as he holds up a gloved hand. Distracted, she bumps into the warm body in front of her.

 “Halt.”

Chatter is audible through helmets, but nothing clear as the sergeant walks down the line, scanning the prisoners’ arm bands. He stops at her and Ori’s heart drops. He nods at his counterpart. The trooper to her right grasps her upper arm and escorts her away from the silent line of her brothers and sisters. Stripped of their armor, they look naked, ordinary. But not afraid. Never afraid. Armor doesn’t make a Mandalorian, no matter what the Empire may think. She can feel their eyes on her as she’s led away. One of the men speaks up for her and gets a rifle butt to the mouth for his trouble.

Either they’re going to execute me or they know. 

When the droid initially processed her, it took a little blood, just a drop. To confirm her identity, she presumed. She hadn’t put up too much of a fight, to do otherwise would have drawn suspicion, but it was obvious they’d run other tests. 

The troopers place her back in her cell, where she sits, heart racing for only a few minutes before an Imperial officer enters. This one isn’t familiar to her, at least from the few days she’s been in the cell. 

“I suppose congratulations are in order, ma’am.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her tone is too defensive, and she can tell he isn’t fooled. 

“Forgive me, I’d assumed considering your former profession that you would know.”

Former profession? So they do know. Well, it’s not getting slotted against a wall. Though by the sounds she’s heard outside her cell the past few days, the Empire doesn’t shy away from more physical methods of information extraction. She also suspects that the walls were made thin for a reason. 

“We’re not savages, my dear. You’re being transferred somewhere more suitable.”

With that, he leaves and two troopers step in, and they usher her out a back door to a smaller unmarked transport. She knows that being taken to a second location is going to make her chances of being found vanishingly small, and she tries futilely to resist the hands that push her forwards, sure that they won’t shoot her, now that she so obviously has something they want. 

The ship is small, enough to fit the two troopers and herself without much other cargo space, barely a light freighter, if that. She can smell the oil they use to lubricate the joints and machine parts in the engine, acrid, almost smokey. 

When she arrives at her destination some hours later, she’s handed a uniform of a sort, more something she would imagine one would wear at a spa, the type that uppity Coruscantis frequent, with hot stone massages and steam rooms and manicurists. Not that she’d know, having never been to one. 

It’s a tunic and trousers made of a soft, wicking fabric in a pale celadon. The top is short-sleeved and wraps with ties at the side, hem hitting at the tops of her thighs, while the pants are loosely cut. She slips the separates over the plain white basics they give her. The fabric slips easily between her fingers as she rubs at it.

Her brain is flying in a million directions as to where she is and why she is here. The options range from concerning to terrifying. They’d definitely been in hyperspace, but she couldn’t tell exactly how long they’d been traveling. They could be on Coruscant for all she knows. Whispers have been floating around Keldabe about various work camps where prisoners were sent and never heard from again. Mostly she’s heard about mining guild outposts, but nothing like where she is now. What kind of sick outfit are they run-

The matron raps at the door, signaling that her time to change is up and she exits, arms wrapped around herself defensively, shoulders hunched inwards. The woman looks her up and down, apparently satisfied with her appearance. With a cock of her head, the woman motions for Ori to follow her, ushering her into a bland office space where another woman sits in front of a large datapad. She’s wearing a crisper, piped version of her own spa-ready garments in varying shades of blue. A hand pushes at her shoulder and she sits clumsily. 

“Planet of birth?” the woman queries. Orla pauses at her directness.

There isn’t really any benefit to lying. They know who she is, and asking questions about her origins is likely a formality designed to lull her into submitting to questions that they really wanted to know the answers to. Truly, she wasn’t sure exactly what these people thought they were going to learn from her. She knows about the vaccine, sure, but she’d already revealed that. It’s possible they think she knows more.

“Mandalore.” 

The woman taps twice on a datapad with her stylus.

“Age?”

“Thirty two.” 

Two more taps.

“Any medical conditions?” The woman before her smiles mildly. Ori resists the urge to spit in her perfect face before she can figure out where hell she is.

“That’s not really any of your business.” 

“I’m afraid it is,” she retorts, not offering any more explanation.

“None,” Ori bites out, “Where am I?”

“You’re in a rehabilitation center-”

“-but I’m not sick.” Her interruption irritates the placid-faced woman, Ori can tell by a flicker in her eyes and a brief downturn of her lips. Maybe trying the woman’s patience the first day in this dump was ill-advised. But she just felt helpless. Trapped. 

“You’re in a rehabilitation center for wayward citizens of the Empire-”

Tired of milk-faced woman’s run-around,she interrupts again. “Why don’t you get to the kriffing point, hutuun?”

She pauses, even more annoyed than before, but keeps her composure. The nametag she wears on her left chest says Technician.

“You committed treason, Ms. Beviin. But your Empire is sensitive to your condition. Sending you to work for the mining guild would be a waste. In your condition, you’d last even less time than the weakest prisoner there. But you can be useful to the Empire in other ways.”

Useful…

“It so happens that many obedient Imperial citizens desire children of their own and are unable to conceive. And with your sordid political history, it would be remiss of us to let your child grow up in such a dangerous home.”

Ori blanches. 

“Not to mention your rumored association with the traitor Skirata and his adopted brood. You did ask me to speak plainly, Ms. Beviin.”

“I did.” Her voice comes out as wan as she feels.

“From what I understand, children of Mandalorian parents are quite sought after.” She gives a slight laugh, almost girlish. “Though one would think there would be more of them given your people’s penchant for...” she pauses, searching for the right words, “- loose morality.”

Her tiny bit of courage that she has mustered deflates to nothing. Her tone is light but there is avarice in the technician’s pale blue eyes. 

“Now, shall we continue?” All Ori can do is nod weakly. Stealing children. How many of her vode are in this place?

“Nationality of the father?” She shakes her head, unwilling to reveal more. Teeth dig into her lower lip to stop the emotions that rise up. This is insane, it can’t be real. 

“It would be to your benefit for you to cooperate with me,” she tuts, “The more we know, the better the placement for your child. Who knows, we may find a place with one of your more loyal countrymen. If you’re especially well-behaved.”

“Mandalorian,” she whispers, “he’s Mandalorian.”

“Good,” the woman praises. Her unnerving pale eyes flick greedily down to her flat abdomen and she quickly moves her top to obscure the area, oddly protective of something that wasn’t even visible yet.

-------

Keldabe City Center

Keldabe, Northern Mandalore

Summer, 18 BBY

Her apartment is empty. The sheets on the bed are rumpled but clean, and a glass of stale water sits on the night table beside it, next to a half eaten ration bar. There’s no smashed glass, no valuables taken, though Kal notes that the place is sparse, even for a Mandalorian - he’s not sure he’d find valuables even if he looked. The only personal touches he finds are a small Jonah wood figurine and a plain metal band.

The door had been securely locked when he entered. For all intents and purposes she’d gone to work as usual. Normally he’d be comforted, but his findings rankle his instincts. He’s consciously not letting himself think about the fact that he’s most likely going to be a father again. If he starts on that train of thought he’s not going to be able to think clearly anymore. Before he starts to lose it he comms Mereel. He hasn’t felt this way since Etain, since when Ruu was missing. He hates laying his problems on his boys, but there are certain things he can’t do himself.

Mereel picks up on the second ring.

“Buir?”

“Son, I need you to track someone down for me.”

“Sure thing. Who ya got?” 

“I need you to check arrest records in Keldabe.” Kal sits at the small dining table, running his hands through his cropped hair, feeling his agitation rise. 

“-Jaing get himself into trouble again?”

“Doc Beviin. Mij says she didn’t show up to work this morning.”

There’s silence on the other end as Mereel takes in his request. It’s a bizarre one, he knows, but if there’s anyone that can find a trail on someone it’s his ad’ike. The line quiets as Mereel works. He’s still holding the figurine from Orla’s dresser, worrying it between his hands, smoothing his thumbs over the polished wood. Everything is going up in flames. Somehow it seemed like just weeks ago that he had grand plans for his aliit escaping a Republic that was rotting from the inside out, when in reality it has been much longer. 

He waits an hour for Mereel to call back, sitting, sweating alone in her apartment, paralyzed by the thoughts running through his head. Waiting for a call from Mij that she had showed up to work, that she’d stopped for a caf on the way and been waylaid somehow. He lies to himself for a minute or so and then steels himself for the news Mereel is going to give him. It’s moments like this when he feels like little Falin again, if just for a moment, alone and scared and plagued by nightmares of horrible things happening to the people he loves. Before he can sink too far into the past, he’s interrupted by his comm beeping insistently.

“Son?”

“We found footage of her entering the Imperial Garrison on Keldabe two days ago.” 

“And leaving?”

The little hologram of Mereel shakes its head. Kal nods. This is his fault. He knows exactly why she’d gone and it was his own shabla fault. How could he have expected someone like her to know the Empire had vaccine and not go after it? 

“We need to get into that system.” 

“I’m sorry-”

“-It’s not your fault, Mereel. We’ll find another way.” It’s his fault. His own kriffing fault. 

---

Taglist: @leias-left-hair-bun @fractiouskat @nelba @clonewarslover55 @wolfangelwings @cherry-cokes-world @passionofthesith @808tsuika @simping-for-fives

[vodika-vibes]

I had a thought (mostly because I'm fantasizing about Kal Skirata this evening).

Imagine your Kal's Riduur, and he cones to you one day and goes, "Riduur, I'm going to Kamino for the next ten years."

And you're, like, halfway through eating your Space Cheerios or something, and you know that your Riduur is a ridiculous man, but this is just excessive, so you drop your spoon back into your bowl, "Why the fuck are you doing that?" You ask, exasperated.

"I have to." Kal replies.

"If you think moving to Kamino is going to get you out of this relationship—" you threaten.

"Jango called me." Kal says.

"Holy shit," You reply, "He's alive?"

After that, Kal spills the whole story (it's not really possible for him to keep secrets from you after all, and you wonder of Jango knows that Kal has loose lips, but he's stealing your Riduur for the next 10 years, so fuck him, really—).

And you're not okay with it, but sure. Fine. Whatever. He'd better comm and visit.

Kal doesn't really talk about his work when he comms. Mostly he just waxes poetic about your beauty and your talent and how much he misses you. But he does mention something of a surprise.

The surprise being 6 clones of Jango Fett who are built like actual tanks is a bit much.

However, when Mrs. Next-Door makes a comment about Mereel to your face. You verbally tear her face off and demand to know who she is to insult your son, who you birthed with your own body.

Mereel is so touched that he's the first of your boys that you adopt. Kal is so happy that he picks you up and spins you around.

[dom-i-nic]

@leias-left-hair-bun MADE ME WANT TO WRITE A KAL SKIRATA X READER INSERT FIC SO IM PASSING THE CURSE DOWN ONTO EVERYBODY WHO SEES THIS, U WILL NOW ALL BE COMPELLED TO WRITE A READER INSERT FOR THIS CURSED CURSED THOUGHT.

[ciramaris]

My Stories

Warnings are on each Story- in the Top. Most of them are SFW. Exceptions are listed below.

Story Guide:

🔞 Adult content (I do not write Smut.)

♨️ Ambigious

🤬Verbal Insults

🥰Fluff

⚔Canon typical violence

🩹Mention of Injury

👻Nightmare

👄making out

🍷Alcohol

😵 Reader has a Fainting Condition

Clan Skirata

Mereel Skirata

Hut’uun 🔞🩹⚔

Main Masterlist

[itsagrimm]

Changing tides

I. EBB

Walon Vau X OC

CN: violence, abuse, abuse of children, injury, mentions of blood, BAD mental health and teenage angst, mentions of contemplation of suicide, spiralling negative thoughts. also shameless amounts of damsel in distress

Mando’a translation at the end.

The alarm was loud, he knew that. But the adrenaline and the static rush in his ears made it a background noise he hardly noticed. Every imaginable screen and light flashed warnings at him. His hands were sweaty and shaky from the stress. Space was new. It was so different from the planetary horizon, from the sea, from home.

He gazed through the front. One planet was close, habitable according to his instruments.

His saving island.

He pushed a few buttons, making the spacecraft jerk forward under metallic protest and entered the atmosphere. It got hot. Desperately he tried to slow his descent. The machine only wheezed and gave out completely.

He bared his teeth into a grimace and concentrated. Every ship, may it be for space or sea, worked the same in the end. He could steer manually if he managed to unfold the solar sail wings. Wiping sweat off his face he ran into the back of the hull of the ship and grabbed a bar lying on the floor. He knew that the wings controlled the air flow when entering the atmosphere like an alba to sail through the air. Working from memory he started hammering against the hull wall where he placed the left folded wing. It took an entity before the hull cracked. Ignoring his tired protesting muscles, he reached into the crack and felt for the mechanical wing. It was hot from the burning freefall through the atmosphere but intact. With something between his strong muscles and sheer force of will, he pushed the wing and unfolded it. With a fluttering sound in the solar sail the wing stretched out and tensioned up from the headwind. He ran into the cockpit and checked the instruments. He had slowed the fall.

But not enough.

He ran back, picking up the bar and started hitting the right hull. His arms protested and the cold wind from the broken left-hull-side made him stumble. But he kept swinging the bar. He had to. He could not die here. The bar, already rusty and broken just like the rest of the ship, shattered into pieces. He did not even hesitate and started hammering against the hull with his own hands until there was blood. But he hardly made a dent in the enforced wall. He felt his hands seizing in pain but ignored it. He had to survive. He would not die like a lesser man.

Before he could make it through to the other wing, he felt a blow go through the ship. Everything became detached. In instinct he covered his head with his bleeding hands, feeling his body getting tossed around in the ship. Another blow. He kept his eyes closed to shield them from small debris and prayed that for once in his kriffing life he would get lucky. He needed to.

One last blow and he fell, his body battered and bruised. Carefully he opened his eyes and slowly started to move. He had blood on himself. But he could feel all his limbs. He felt no pain – yet. He knew he would, sooner than later. The ship had stopped moving. Winds were howling and snowflakes danced into the hull through the crack. He smelled ozone. Kriff. He started crawling out of the hull, tearing holes from the cracked metal into his clothes before collapsing on the snow. Behind him he heard the core of the spaceship imploding from the ozone leak. He tasted blood but ignored it and got on all fours again. He had to keep moving. He had to survive and return - to her. He would not die here. He was not going to allow himself to.

XXXXX

- INVITATION FOR THE HONORABLE WALON VAU -

SON OF COUNT OF GESL

To celebrate PRINCESS MARITA OF ERIO’s 19th Birthday, a ceasefire between Gesl and Erio has been agreed on. It is with great joy that the princess coming of age will be celebrated with the beginnings of peace talks and dance.

Your presence would be of utmost importance and value to us.

XXXXX

He wakes up from the sound of someone wading through the deep snow. It’s cold. His torn clothes give little protection against the elements. Kriff, he doesn’t know if the clothes hold his shattered body together or the other way around.

The snow is painfully white in his eyes, and he squints at the figure approaching him and the wreckage of the ship, drawing his little fibro blade from his belt. Before he can call out, something jumps out of the snow and knocks him back. It has teeth and an inconceivable number of limbs blocking his every move and growls at him. He looks at the beast on top of him: golden fur, an unimaginable stench and patient eyes observing him.

“Mird! Ba’slanar!”

The Animal jumps off him and he stumbles up, his little knife ready and drawn.

The armored figure stands before him, the strange animal stalking in anticipation behind them.

“Who are you?” He calls out.

The Armored chuckles and a voice, modulated through the helmet, answers. “It takes guts to draw this ridiculously small toothpick of a knife against a Mandalorian.”

He eyes at the knife in his hand. Irmenu navy standard. Ideal to cut ropes and gutting fish, but hardly for a fight. He deepens his combat stance and looks back at the Armored before him.

“What are you going to do? Fight me with this? You can barely stand, ad’ika.” The Armored shakes their head in amusement. “Tell me instead, who are you and why I should not cut you down here?”

He bares his teeth. “I am Walon. My ship crashed. I had no intention of being here. It just was the best option when my engines gave out.”

“Walon, ey?” The armored looks back at the scrap-pile that is his ship. “A wonder you survived that. This ship looks ancient. Where are you from?”

“Irmenu.”

“My condolences. Point-no-more on Mandalore definitely is a step up from that miserable rock.”

“Can’t say I had a pleasant time here so far.”

The helmet leans to the side.

“Tell you what, Walon.” The Armored speaks. “Lower your little toothpick. You can’t fight me anyway. And you need help. You will bleed to death, or freeze to death, or one of the mountain lions will get you.”

He keeps his knife up.

“Why should I trust you?”

The golden animal stalks closer in anticipation of a fight.

“Di’kut. Because you have little choice. Lower your weapon.”

He hesitates. He needed to survive and the Armored was right. But Walon had his difficulty trusting a faceless stranger.

The furred animal stepped closer. Walon aimed his knife in its direction.

“Adi’ka, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. The strill is a kind animal but it would take you down and I don’t want to clean your blood out its precious fur.”

Walon’s eyes darted between the animal called a strill and the Armored. In panic and pain, he froze in his position, knife up.

“Alright then, adi’ka. I am getting impatient.”

Something blue washed over Walons vision and everything went black.

XXXXX

Walon, my love.

I miss you. It has been hours since the last time we saw each other. But it’s already too long ago. I am writing to you because paper is more patient. The governess rolls her eyes every time I mention you. I fear one day she rolls them too far back and they get stuck. Paper it is.

Papa is very busy. I haven’t seen him since the ball. But I will ask him about marriage plans for me once I do. Maybe I can convince him that it would be most beneficial for the Kingdom if it’s princess would marry the future Count of Gesl. I am sure you can only agree to my political scheming.

I love you and I long to be with you.

Mari

XXXXX

Walon woke up from a wet snout sniffling his face. He tried to move up, but pain made him fall back immediately.

He looked around. He was in a small but cosy hut. The animal with the golden furr was sitting next to a small cot where Walon was laid on, staring at him curiously. There was a fireplace with warm bright flames dancing in it and a pot above with something bubbling inside.

He looked down at his body and tried to move more carefully. He was stripped off his clothes and his wounds were bandaged. A simple blanket was keeping him warm.

A door opened and the armored figure entered from the snow, carrying wood inside.

“You’re awake. Finally, I started to worry you wouldn’t wake anymore and that I dragged you up the slope for nothing.” The armored said with that modulated voice.

Walon opened his mouth to say something, but he only managed a miserable croak.

“Don’t worry. We can have insightful conversations some other day. Let me help you.”

With that the armored removed their helmet and stepped to the pot. Walon’s eyes widened. The powerful armored warrior with the fearsome beast and reflexes like a predator was an elderly human woman. She laughed at his reaction and started pouring soup from the pot into a bowl.

“On Irmenu the old women might be pushed into submission and silence. On Mandalore however we all are shabla Mandalorians, and we stay so for life. Now, open your mouth. You need nourishment.”

Walon obeyed and the elder fed him the bowl of soup he couldn’t hold. After he was done, she got another bowl for him and helped him again.

He felt the tasty warmth of the liquid run through his body and a pleased moan escaped his lips before he fell asleep from exhaustion again.

He woke up to the familiar pain. His eyes darted through the hut. The strill, as the woman had called it, was rolled into a furry ball and soundly asleep making cute snoring sounds in front of the fireplace. The old woman was sitting in a chair next to it. She had gotten rid of her armor and was knitting. With her gray hair, simple clothing, and wrinkled face she nearly passed for an ordinary grandmother – except for the blaster at her hip.

Walon cleared his throat, testing his ability to speak.

“Feeling better?”, she continued knitting while looking at him.

“Hmmm.” He managed.

“Good.”

More knitting.

“I-“He tried with a raspy voice. “I don’t understand why you helped me. Thank you.”

She put down her knitting yarn.

“Adi’ka.” The woman said with a kindly scolding voice. “I saw that you are no danger for me or my people. You clearly were nothing but an unlucky traveler on your last leg. Your ship and equipment gave that away. Or at least what was left of it. For me you are nothing but a child in need. A foundling. And I follow my people’s way and protect the children in my care.”

“I’m not a child.”

Her eyes gleamed in amusement. “What are you? 18 years? 20? Shab. Please. You are a child to me. An Adi’ka.”

He tried to follow her explanation but couldn’t.

“What’s your clan’s name, adi’ka?” She asked.

“Vau. Walon Vau.”

“My pleasure, Walon Vau. Call me Amaia of Clan Mereel. Care for some soup, Walon?”

XXXXX

The clicking sounds of the broad receiver on the old two-master war ship woke up the captain. Tired he stumbled over to the table, fumbled with his glasses and started reading the little morse coded words.

-Beginning of message – stop - Alert – stop - Breach of ceasefire between Gesl and Erio - stop - All forces are called to caution – stop - Reserve Forces are ordered to their units - stop - may the saints bless and protect us from the storm - full stop - end of message-

XXXXX

It was cold outside. The snow crunched under his borrowed boots and the reflecting sun was painful in his eyes. Amaia was walking next to him. Slowly, supporting his weight and helping him walk after days of being indoors and bedridden. Despite his lanky height and presumably weight, she moved sturdy and unforgivingly just like her armor.

“I am taking too long to heal.”

She turned her head, only the reflecting visor facing him.

“Di’kut, you are lucky that you survived. What did you expect? To jump up and start running again?”

“I need to-“

She moved her elbow and slightly touched his side through his coat. Walon cried out in pain and stumbled, with clenched teeth he kept up and muffled and further cry. Only weak men cry.

“Proves my point, adi’ka. Look at you.” Amaia grumbled like a cat at her kitten. “You are in pieces. What you need to do is rest and heal up. You can’t do much else anyway.”

Walon closed his eyes and fought back the pain. His wounds, especially the one Amaia had touched, throbbed intensely. His mind swirled around, unable to think about anything else but the pain. And her.

As much as he hated to admit. Amaia was right. He had to heal first.

“Let’s go back, Walon.” Amaia called him back. “You start to look not just wounded but also like a frozen scarecrow. Let’s not add something fun like pneumonia or frostbites to your problems and get you into the warmth again.”

He nodded grimly and turned back to the hut barely meters behind them.

Feeling like he fought his body for every minuscule move, he started walking. Slowly.

Lord Mirdalan, the golden strill, purred at the sight of Amaia and Walon returning so fast, as if it was asking how their pathetically short walk went.

Walon nodded at the animal. He felt rude not to and collapsed back onto the cot. His body was tired as if he had marched for days. Yet Walon forced himself up again and started getting out of the borrowed boots and coat.

After he was done, he placed them in orderly fashion at the door and returned to his spot.

“Thank you for the clothes, Amaia.” He said, remembering his strict upbringing.

“You are welcome. They used to belong to my youngest. Was a scarecrow like you. But we’ll change that and get some good healthy fat on your thin frame.”

Walon nodded, unsure how to respond to that.

Amaia was looking at him, her helmet off.

“You are a strong lad, Walon.” She said. “Surviving a crash like that, standing up against me with your wounds, pushing yourself even now … it's reckless but that’s the mando spirit.”

“I don’t even know what the mando spirit is supposed to be?”

“The Mando spirit is the stuff that makes warriors strong, friends everlasting and parents …well, busy.”

Amaias words punched him in the gut in the least expected way.

“No.” He just replied. “My father said I wasn’t good enough.”

Amaia just raised her eyebrow.

“I was not born a Mandalorian. I was born a Vau on Irmenu. I am not enough.” He insisted.

“So what? Mandalorian is a way of life, not necessarily a birthright.”

“Those born Mandalorian are not considered Mandalorian?”

“If they don’t claim their heritage, then no. Everyone gets a choice.” Amaia sat down in her chair at the fire and started adding wood.

“I am not saying that you are or need to become anything.” She continued. “But I have seen many warriors, many Mando’ade in my life. You are enough and you are a fool not to believe me.”

Walon leaned back. The mention of his family and his constant disappointing was a harsh memory. On Irmenu he was the son of a Count. And yet he felt like the most miserable creature on that rock. Not good enough for his family. Not good enough to join the Navy according to his father. Barely good enough to be beaten over and over and over again for his many failures as the miserable existence that he was.

There was only one being on Irmenu that made his life bearable – her.

He would return to her. He would find a way.

Despite all his failures and weaknesses, he would free her.

Maybe, and Walon barely dared to consider it, Amaia was right and there was something useful and admirable in him.

XXXX

My Love

I fear for us. The war that brought us together threatens to part us again. Papa will never agree to a marriage between us now. The governess agreed to keep us a secret and will relay my letters to you. They are my lifeline in these wild waters.

Brother left the castle to take command of the western armada. And you too, I fear, will be called to battle sooner than later. My heart aches. As much as I know that you want to join the battles and that you consider it your duty, I only wish for you to be safe and with me. Forgive my selfishness but I am the one left behind wondering if my brother and my love are facing each other in fight.

Be safe, I beg of you my love, and return to me. We will find a way.

Love,

Mari

XXXXX

Mird jumped through the snow like a strilling seeing snow for the first time. Happy little whines and cries escaped the strills maw, always turning back to Walon and making sure the human was keeping up.

Weeks had passed. Walon had recovered enough to start moving on his own again, helping Amaia around the hut and exploring the area around their little home. The slope they lived on was covered in new snow, the trees were low and knotty. Their roots exposed by the howling wind and the ever-changing elements.

The young man made his way through the odd forest, further up the slope he had ever managed to climb.

“Wait for me!” He called after Mird and the strill howled in response.

Finally, they made it up and Walon stopped to look from the edge of the slope down into the next valley. It was full of the same low trees, covered in snow, and in the middle was the wreck of his ship. It was in pieces, most of it sooty and black from the implosion. Nothing but a pile of ash and garbage.

He felt a whimper escaping his lips and tears starting to flow.

How was he to make it back to Irmenu with his ship in shatters? How was he to save her? All the accumulated hope from the last days due to his rising strength and recovery, left him in one nearly suppressed sob.

He staggered and fell to his knees, finally crying.

All his efforts and all his pain were worth nothing if he was stuck here. He felt helpless, a failure, a waste of space.

He should just stay here and freeze to death.

A snout licked over his face.

Mird, the strill with its unbearable stench, nudged Walon as if to ask what was going on.

Walon closed his eyes, bracing himself against the stench so close to his face. It was like smelling salts forcing him to snap out of his dark spiraling thoughts and facing reality.

The strill licked him again and Walon groaned. It really was a stinky animal. With soft intelligent eyes.

He padded the strills head.

“Thank you, Mird.”

The strill pressed its head into Walons shoulder and rolling its golden body around him.

“Are you trying to hug me, Mird?”

The animal purred and licked over his face again, swiping away the last tears. Walon looked down into the valley at the shipwreck. Yes, it likely was unsalvable. But he would find another way. Like the strill surviving up here among the high frozen mountain peaks on Mandalore, he too would survive. And would be stronger for it.

“You are a good strill, Mird. Looking out for me.” Walon hesitated. Amaia spoke that other language with the golden fur bundle. “Mird-ika?”

The strill howled in delight and jumped around Walon before cuddling next to him into the snow, lifting its 6 legs and exposing its belly.

“You like that Mird-ika?” the young man scratched the strills soft warm underside. “Good Mird-ika! Yes, all the scratches for you, Mird.”

More howls and licks over Walons face.

“Oh Mird, you smelly lovely beast.”

The way back to the hut was easier. Walking down the slope with Mird ploughing through the snow and Walon following.

Amaia was at the hut, cutting wood from one of the small knotty trees. With her helmet and the armor on she looked nothing like the mouthy elder knitting socks in front of the fireplace.

“Amaia, can I help?”, Walon greeted and inquired.

She straightened up and looked at him before passing him the axe. “Here. But don’t overdo it. We have enough time and there is no need to rush. You are still not at your full strength.”

He nodded and started working.

“Hey Amaia, do you ever leave the slope?” He asked between his swings.

“Shab, of course I do. I and a few other loners guard this closed off area for my people during the cold months as requested by the Mand’alor. With the snow gone, I leave. No need to guard then. The weather is stable enough to check on the area from ship then.”

“Are there settlements where I could find passage back to Irmenu down the mountain?”

“Di-kut! Don’t you know anything about Mandalore? This is not a backwater planet. We are an ancient warrior and mercenary civilization. Of course, there are ships traveling to wherever you need to go. Shab, but why of all places do you want to go back to that sorry place? Looked like you nearly made it away from there last time.”

Walon stopped cutting the wood and turned to Amaia. Her expressionless visor stared at him

“I got exiled from Irmenu. But I need to return to save my fiancé. She got locked up because of me.”

Amaia tilted her head. “Oh. I wasn’t aware that the youths today are into lanky boys with messy hair. I would congratulate you on having a riduur, but it feels that is not the moment. Yet. Come inside. Let’s talk.”

The freshly cut wood fumed before catching fire. Mird sneezed and moved away from the fireplace. Walon sympathetically padded its head.

Amaia sat down on her spot in the comfortable chair and turned to him.

“Tell me about your fiancé, ad’ika.”

Walon swallowed and considered his words before speaking.

“I am the son of a count on Irmenu. She is a princess. We met during negotiations between our families to resolve a military conflict. The negotiations failed but we kept in touch, messaging and meeting secretly. And at some point, it just wasn’t us being friends or curious about someone else’s life anymore.”

He looked down, feeling himself blush at the memories.

“You fell in love with a woman out of your reach.” Amaia summed up without batting an eyelash.

“Yes.”, he confessed. “And I got exiled for it while she was locked up in a monastery.”

“Charming.”

They stayed silent for a moment until Amaia got up and grabbed an old bottle and 2 glasses.

“How about a drink, lad?”

Walon stared at Amaia in surprise. No one had ever reacted positively to his love for her. And now he got offered a drink, a blank expression and no insults.

He nodded.

And Amaia poured a strong-smelling spirit into both glasses.

“This is Tihaar.” She explained. “Drink it slowly.”

He took a sip and grimaced.

“Amaia, what is this? If you want me to go blind, just stab out my eyes and it will only be slightly faster than this pure ethanol.”

She took another sip and smiled at his reaction. “A hard drink for hard people having a tough talk. Also, I can’t have you blushing for your love when I need you to have a straight talk with me.”

He looked down at the glass again and took another sip.

“You want to get her out of that monastery?” Amaia asked.

“Yes, I promised her. But I saw the shipwreck today. No way that thing will fly again.”

“It’s a wonder it took off in the first place. Yeah, you will need a different ship.”

He nodded.

“Amaia, when will the snow melt? When can I get down from the mountains?”

She snorted. “Lad, you’ll have to learn how to be patient. The snow will not melt for another 4 months.”

He felt a knot in his stomach and he wasn’t sure if that came from the tihaar.

Amaia finished her drink with a curse and poured herself another.

“Drink.” She ordered. “It won’t help but the burn helps sharpen the mind for a moment.”

He obeyed, biting his tongue to distract himself from the horrible taste.

“Alright, adi’ka. Let’s talk balac.”

He raised his eyebrows in question.

Amaia grumbled.

“It’s hard to speak basic when the tihaar runs.” She mumbled. “I know the situation is not ideal for you. As much as I enjoy having some company here when guarding point-no-more, you need to get to you riddur, your… fiancé and save her. But you can’t due to the snow. You are stuck. And you are still weakened from your injury. And when you make it down the mountain, you have no money or skill to pay for a transport to Irmenu nor do you have the skills to get her out of there. It’s a shabla situation.”

“Yes, thanks Amaia for summarizing my sorry existence.” Walon replied sourly. The tihaar started to work and made him feel the anger slowly pushing away the sadness and self-pity.

“Patient Wa-ika. I wasn’t finished.” Amaia raised her glass. “You need to become more than you are right now. And I can show you how. I can show you how to be Mando’ade. I told you, you have the stuff.”

“Why would that help?”

“Because Mandalorians overcome or perish and that is exactly what you need right now.”

XXX

next chapter will be out soon.

Write me a message if you want to get tagged.

XXX

Mando'a Translations

-ika – affectionate suffix

Ade - child

Riduur – spouse, partner

Tihaar- strong Mandalorian type of alcohol

Di’kut – idiot

Shab – shit

Mand’alor – the title for the unofficial leader of the Mandalorian people/ ruler of Mandalore

Mando’ade - Mandalorians

Mandokar – the right stuff to be Mandalorian

Vod – brother, sister, sibling

Ba’slanar – leave, depart, exit

Balac - opportunity

[leias-left-hair-bun-again]

for the wip game...... run/ran?

first document i found this in is a half-finished kal skirata x reader chapter - i am putting three sentences because as usual my grammar is..uh....let's say ~colloquial~ and they don't really count as separate sentences lsdjfkldsjf

It’s a halfway decent plan. It’s a fun plan. And it’s definitely worth running by Kal.

WIP ask game :DDD

[clonewarslover55]

The Threesome Walon Vau X Fem!Reader X Kal Skirata

Here it is!! The early Christmas(Or whatever you celebrate) present!! You all asked for some typical arguing old Mando men arguing, but with a smutty twist. I hope you all enjoy. Feedback is what I live off of!!!! So please like and reblog!

Notes: I have never written a threesome before so I am warning you guys, it may suck. Please tell me what you think

Warnings: Walon Vau bites, threesome, vaginal fingering, anal sex, Vau and Kal arguing, teasing, Mandalorian men being cocky, Walon talks to much, Kal is short, unprotected sex(be safe!!!) competitive men being competitive, !Walon Vau has a british accent! Walon Vau is my favorite husband so if I played favorites I apologize 

You stood between the two Mandalorian men, one removing your clothes while the other kissed the sensitive skin of your neck. “You remove clothes too quickly Kal, you need to draw it out.” Kal snorted at the accented voice of Walon Vau. 

“Just shut up.” The shorter man quipped, his fingers working a little slower on your clothes now. Vau winked at you and gave Kal an offended look. “Can you not remove a bra you old di’kut??” Kal opened his mouth to speak but shut his mouth with a click when Vau suddenly pulled a knife from his boot, cutting your bra off in one slice. 

“Walon!!-“ You gasped, your skin getting nicked slightly. He only hummed, licking the droplets of blood away from the cut. “He skipped your bra, we can’t have these beautiful breasts being hidden from view.” He nearly purred as he cupped your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You gasped and threw your head back at the heated touch.

Kal rolled his eyes at Vau’s expression as he finally got you to step out of your clothes and shoes, “Perfect.” The shorter man groaned, giving your ass a nice squeeze. Your eyes were squeezed shut with pleasure from Walon’s mouth and large hands playing with your sensitive breasts. Kal kneaded your ass some, his calloused fingers lighting your skin on fire. 

You gasped when two thick fingers ran along your slit, gathering up some of your wetness before rubbing your clit with his thumb. Kal slowly pushed two calloused fingers inside of you, thrusting them slowly. 

You moaned and shivered, your desire coating his hand. “You’re not making her clench around your fingers properly! You can’t even pleasure a woman with your hand, no wonder your wife left you.” Walon snarked. Kal sneered and scissored his fingers inside of you, making you gasp. “Oh you think you can do better??” Vau scoffed in that royal way of his. 

Kal yanked his fingers from you, making you moan at the rough movement. “You need to learn how to finger a woman properly Kal.” Walon rolled his eyes as he slowly pushed two long fingers into your cunt. Kal held your hips still, his chapped lips pressing against your shoulder blades. 

Their arguing was normal, but their heated movements luckily kept you in the mood. Vau scissored his fingers, finding your most sensitive spot way too quickly. You cried out, Kal holding you in place. “See, that’s how you properly finger fuck a woman.” Walon spoke heatedly, his voice cocky.

Walon removed his fingers from your heat, causing you to whine softy. He sucked his fingers clean, the sight making you shiver. Lightning bolts of excitement shot straight to your cunt, “Now do what I did.” He nearly purred the words, which made you shiver more. Kal sneered at Vau, quickly thrusting his fingers back into your cunt. Kal shifted his fingers like Walon just had done, making you cry out in pleasure. 

Kal found that sensitive spot deep inside of your cunt, rubbing a calloused finger against it. You came on his fingers quickly, leaning on Walon’s bare chest for support. Your legs quaked as you panted, Kal’s thick fingers helping you ride out your orgasm. Kal kissed along your shoulders as Vau went back to playing with your breasts. 

The pleasure was so great that you had to close your eyes again, your body shivering in excitement for what they had planned for you. Kal removed his shirt and pants quickly, Walon removing his pants more slowly. Vau had to draw everything out because he was more of a tease than Kal. 

“I’d be a lot more turned on if I didn’t have to look at your ugly face Walon.” Vau snorted, removing his lips from your nipple with a pop, “That’s a poor excuse for not being able to get it up anymore, Skirata.” You giggled slightly but immediately stopped when Kal pinched your ass. 

Walon smirked and nudged your legs open with his own, his lean hands stroking along your sides. Kal got closer to you, his hard cock pressed up against your ass as he kissed your shoulders. Vau rubbed the head of his cock against your dripping core, “Luckily I’m here, so you won’t be too disappointed by Kal.” 

The shorter man growled at Vau, causing you to bite your lip. They were both about to fuck you brainless but they kept arguing. Lucky for you, their arguing and teasing is pretty funny and never really gets old. You went to tell them to shut up, instead crying out when Kal pushed his lubed up cock into your hole without warning.

“Fuck.” He gripped your hips, keeping you steady on your wobbly legs. Once your hole adapted to the size of Skirata, Vau slowly slid into your cunt. This was not your first time doing it with the two stubborn Mandalorians, but the feeling was just as incredible as it was the first time. 

Luckily they shut their mouths when they were inside of you, your body clenching them too tight for them to think of any snarky remarks. They worked well together when they wanted to, which quickly had you writhing between the two men. 

Vau and Kal held you steady as they fucked into you, keeping in rhythm with one another. You gasped when Walon ducked his head again, his tongue lapping at your nipples. Kal has his face buried in your neck, his lips teasing the skin there. You squeezed your eyes shut as you moaned, the pleasure too overwhelming.

“He’ll probably cum too soon, but don’t worry my darling. I have you.” Walon whispered, nipping your ear lobe gently. Kal glared at Vau, moving his hand around to play with your clit some. His rough and calloused fingers were truly magical. They picked up the pace together, both of them knowing exactly how to angle their hips to find those hidden sensitive spots deep within your walls. 

Thanks to their ruthless pace and their wonderful teasing it didn’t take you long to come undone. You came with a shout, crying out both of their names between gasps and profanities. “Fuck.” Kal clenched his teeth as you squeezed around him and Walon, his cum spilling inside of you first. 

Walon only got a few more thrusts in before he came, biting down onto your pulse point. Kal was riding out his orgasm as well, their combined movements caused you to hit another peak. You came with another cry, both men holding your wobbly body steady. Walon growled against your skin, both men panting as they spilled their hot seed inside of you. 

Vau gently grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “If it wasn’t for me you would never have clenched so hard, your beautiful pussy milking me for all I’m worth.” You shivered at his words. Kal snorted, “You’re such a liar, she came because of my movements. Not yours.” 

Both men pulled out of you, causing you to whine slightly. The feeling of both of your holes dripping with their cum making you even more excited. “Both of you gave me the same amount of pleasure.” You pressed a kiss to both of their lips. Sometimes they were too competitive, and needed to be reassured. “Good, because we’re far from done with you.” Kal spoke, Walon shooting you a wink. 

You grinned, the night was just getting started.

Fellow sluts who are Horny for Mando dad’s taglist: @simping-for-fives @leias-left-hair-bun @nelba @mistflyer1102

[vodika-vibes]

Congratulations on 800 followers!

I’d like to request Darman with Fem reader, bonfire night, NSFW.

Please & Thank you.

Hold Me Tight

Summary: 3 years after the end of the Clone Wars, you live on Kyrimorut alongside the rest of the clan. As the apprentice Armorer to Clan Skirata, you rarely have time to spend with your favorite person. However, today is different.

Pairing: Darman Skirata x F!Reader

Word Count: 1009

Warnings: Smut, Dom Darman

Prompt: Bonfire

A/N: Sorry that this took so long, and I'm also sorry if it's not good. I still have a fever today.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

You stifle your giggle as Darman drags his lips down your throat, his hands are tight around your waist as he clutches you close to him. Your Darman can be a greedy and possessive man, especially when you haven’t been able to spend a lot of time with him.

And, lately, you’ve been so busy at the forge that you barely had time for food, let alone for Darman.

But today is different. Today is the last day of the Harvest season, which means everyone gets the night off. It also means that Kal has set up a massive bonfire for the members of his clan to enjoy, and there’s a gigantic pot of tinglaar for everyone to share.

Though, you haven’t been able to get a bowl of food.

After all, as soon as Darman saw that you were free from the Forge, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you to a secluded location a little bit away from the rest of his brothers.

His words were plain, he doesn’t want to share you with anyone for a bit.

Honestly, he’s lucky that you love him.

Darman releases a happy hum, and you shiver when he presses his nose against the juncture of your shoulder and neck. “Cyare,” his voice is almost a purr, and you shiver again. “You smell like the forge.”

You lightly card your fingers through his curls, and he presses firmer against you, “And how does the forge smell?”

“Like smoke and beskar,” Confident fingers move to pop the seals of your armor, setting each intricately designed piece on the ground to join his armor, which you removed from him only a little earlier. He pulls away from your neck to remove your shoulder guards, and he has a mischievous grin on his handsome face, “It makes me want to fuck you senseless.”

You slide your arms around his neck, “So that’s your plan,” You tease.

“Guilty as charged.” He kisses you, slow and deep, and then nips your lower lip roughly enough that a soft moan falls from your lips, “What are you going to do about it?”

You flash him an impish grin and then slide one hand down his chest to lightly palm his cock through his blacks.

Darman groans and his hips jerk towards you, he looks pleased though. “Naughty girl,” He catches your wrist and pins them both over your head with one large hand, “You need me as much as I need you, don’t you?”

You could break free if you wanted, years of working an anvil have made you stronger than you look, you don’t want to. So, instead, you toss him your most angelic smile. “Well, I just want cock, really. Whether it’s yours or not is a moot point.”

Your words have the desired effect, as shock and then dark jealousy cross his face. “Is that right?” His hands tighten around your wrists, “Well, just for that smart comment, cyar’ika, you’re not getting my cock. Not yet, at least.”

You pout at him, “Stingy.”

“Brats don’t get rewarded,” Darman corrects, using his free hand to push your bottoms down to your knees and then shoving your top up to expose your breasts to the cool evening air, “Look at you, no underwear at all.”

“I had hopes,” You reply loftily.

He chuckles, “Should have thought of that before you ran your smart mouth,” Darman shoves the hem of your shirt into your mouth, “Here you go, cyar’ika. Gotta keep you quiet.”

Then Darman leans back to look you over, a pleased look crossing his handsome face, “You really are so pretty like this. All exposed and wet and pliable for me.”

He’s still dressed in his blacks though. Oh, sure, you can see that his cock is hard and straining, but Darman clearly has no intention of giving himself any relief anytime soon.

Darman looks you over one more time, and then, swiftly, he flips you around so that you’re facing the tree, and he presses his free hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you down further and further until you’re bent in half.

Then he taps the inside of your foot with his, silently instructing you to spread your legs as far apart for him as you can.

“There we go,” His warm hand slides down your spine and over your ass, where he takes a moment to give you a firm spank, “All nice and exposed for me.”

He trails his fingers further down and unerringly finds your clit with one strong finger. He slowly circles your clit, rubbing it in such a way that will slowly push you to your orgasm.

Too slowly.

And he knows it.

Darman’s warmth presses against your back as his finger abandons your clit to slide further back to gather some of your arousal on his fingers, and then moves back to your clit, “I have an idea,”

You whine softly, trying to wiggle against him to encourage him to touch you properly, but a second firm smack to your ass makes you still.

“If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you ride me.” His voice is low against your ear, “And by good girl, I mean if you don’t cum until I tell you.” He gently takes your earlobe between his teeth pulling a quiet moan from your lips, “and if you disobey me, I’m going to take you home and tie you to the bed and edge you until you’re begging for my cock.”

You squirm under him again, and he chuckles.

“You’re not going to win, cyar’ika. But that’s okay, you’re going to have fun no matter what.” He kisses your cheek one more time and then pulls back, “Remember, you’re not allowed to cum without my say-so.”

And then his finger starts rapidly circling your clit, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Darman knows your body better than anyone, he’ll wring an orgasm out of you in a matter of minutes.

But that’s okay. Because you’re going to enjoy everything that happens tonight.

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[dom-i-nic]

i dont wanna do the writer thing where u start hating ur writing as soon as uve posted it but i cant help myself right now and so im probably just gonna hide