#so she wears beskar in ways that she doesn’t feel shameful for

[grogusbuir]

biblically accurate young satine and her beskar headpieces inspired by @furious-blueberry0’s post on mandalorian jewelry

[thefanbasewhore]

United as One. || Part 3

Summary: Din tries to fix what he can while another Mandalorian clan leader comes to visit and the leader tends to find an interest in the reader. 

Warning/Content: Soft!Din (as if I have to say it), angst, nsfw for hand job, a little bit of dirty talk but not much and mentions of death.

A/N: I also do not write smut often so bare with me I tried lol, but sorry It took so long !

Tag list here || Part 2. || Masterlist. 

The room was engulfed in complete darkness, peaceful sleep finally washing over after hours of crying eventually her eyes hurt too much to keep open. Thankfully with sleep came an escape from reality, all problems momentarily gone. That’s until a soft whisper tickles her neck, it’s soothing, fingers tangle into hair, nails scratching her scalp but also makes her jump, eyes opening wide for the source of danger.

“It’s me, it’s just me.” Din is breathless, trying to sooth her with words. Nothing is said, there’s complete darkness except the little light the moon offers. It outlines the soft curve of his nose, shadow of his lips, just enough to see but not enough to commit to memory what the Mandalorian looks like. “Our son.” He pauses, “Grogu wants you.”

It’s not a complete lie but the only excuse he can think of to see her, it was very late. The celebration had finally ended, the night dragged but he still found himself right where he wanted to be. For some reason he can’t find the right words to say. “Cyar'ika, I -.”

“Save it Din, give me him.” His mouth shuts at her words, the darkness blocked any clues, any way her face would form to show her emotions but he felt it in her words. There were no more tears, it’s replaced with hot, firey anger.

Grogu without a second though climbs from Din’s hand and lays against her chest, a soft coo of acknowledgement. Right where he wanted to be.

“For you.” Din’s word peak an interest, eyes meeting his in pure instinct despite the darkness. Something cold, sharp is pressed into her hand. It takes a few minutes of feeling it to realize what it was, the signet that was wrapped around the blonde’s neck made her scowl but he couldn’t see it. “I want you to wear it, I made her give it back. I don’t want -.”

For the second time tonight he’s cut off by words that hiss venom. “You give me something you made for her?”

With those words he realizes what a stupid idea it was, he’s speechless at his own Idiocracy. To be fair though, he wasn’t thinking about anything but her, only trying to make her happy. To escape this feeling of his heart breaking inside his chest, it seems almost unavoidable.

“I’m sorry.” Words are breathless, his apology makes her sigh. No words could fix this, mend the hole in her heart, the betrayal she feels. “I can’t control these things, they were made thousands of years ago. I must honor the way of the Mandalorian, that entitles a riduur and a breeder. I want to.. for you but I can’t, this is the best I can do.” Fingers apply pressure to the beskar in her hand, the coolness making her shiver.

Din is still on his knees on the floor, elbows leaning on the bed, her face, at least he thinks it’s her face only inches apart.

“Why did you bring me here?” It’s asked again. All the days seemed to form together, a promise of a future with Din made it manageable but suddenly it’s suffocating. “You didn’t once bother tell me how it was going to be. You knew they wouldn’t accept me because I’m not a Mandalorian, I would be challenged, I will never be accepted as part of your clan.”

“I thought you wouldn’t come.” He selfishly admits, his own voice chokes with emotion. Tears sting against his own waterline. Maybe it was the long night, but it felt like forever since he’s seen her, talked to her. It makes him emotional, the turmoil he’s caused so far; it was his fault. He was to blame.

“So you sentence me to this?” Din’s eyes squeeze shut, they are so close.. but miles away. “I want to leave.”

“Please.” He begs, “Just try. It’s hard to understand why but it’s the way of the mandalorian, you wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m sick of hearing that!” Her voice rises, she almost sits up to show how much she means if but she feels the child twitch against her chest. “Maker, I would be happy not to see another Mandalorian again.”

“You don’t mean that.” Din’s lays his forehead against the edge of the bed, only inches away from her body. “I don’t like hearing you like this.”

She can’t see it but he’s pressing his two fingers against his chest superficial to where his heart beats. “It hurts me.”

Silence is all he’s given, his cheek lays flat against the mattress as his hand reaches for the signet. “You’re right, it isn’t made for you. Nothing in the whole universe can be made into what I feel for you.”

Din does not give her the opportunity to talk, “My eyes are dark brown. This you know but..”

The hand nudging hers open again to feel the weight of circular plastic, enough to fill her hand. “I want to show them to you.”

They’re the beads of the woman but now any claim he’s ever had is gone; no sign of him on her person. Fingers tip under her chin, “Turn the light on and look.”

“The creed.” The worried words make him sigh, slowly leaning against her neck, forehead against her cheek.

“I have an obligation to my clan, I must lead them but for you, to show my love for you I’ll have you something no one else has. Look at my face Sweetheart, I want you too..” he pauses, “See the color with your own eyes, seeing my eyes only belongs to you. Don’t leave, stay with me.”

It’s desperate and considering the situation absolutely necessary. Truthfully Din is getting frustrated, it shows in the tears that sting his waterline, in the way he squeezes the sheets of the bed with clenched fists. Shoulders are weighed down, all the responsibility of his clan, trying to make the girl understand.. It’s too much, there is no way to give honor to the clan, no one to honor her. He’s torn, an internal fight against what he knows his right but his heart hurts, but cannot let her go.

“See me the way no one else does.” It’s a plea, throat full with emotion, his own way asking her to say. “Please.. it’s all I can give.”

It’s more silence but the way they press into his cheeks makes him whine, a small cry of relief. There was no more coldness lingering in the air as she sits up, his head resting against her inner thigh, fingers start scratching his scalp.

Maybe it’s the desperate tone, the hot tears hitting her cheek but she leans over pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Din.. it’s okay.”

“It’s not, you hate it here.” He pauses, “You’re miserable, it’s not fair and I don’t want you to go.. I feel selfish Mesh’la.”

Hot tears flush his skin, the stress was too much, building up slowly with his own clans disappointment in him, the girl he’s loves finally with him where he belongs but his own people keen on breaking them apart.

“Stay here with me.. it will get better I promise. Asher means nothing to me.. she is a means to an future but she is not mine, you are.”

She silent, deep in thought as fingers pause their movement causing Din to nudge closer into her palm. Tips of dark ringlets tickle her fingers. The mention of another’s name from his lips squeezes her heart. “Cyar'ika.. please stay.”

She was upset, there was no question about it but these few hours alone allowing so much time to just think. It wasn’t Din fault, he must do right by his clan and that means insuring a future by claiming a breeder, despite not liking it, she couldn’t find herself to blame him. He tried to make it better taking his claim back, the signet thrown lazily next to them proves it, the small pile of dark beads that not scatter the floor, an act of service to show his love. It probably wasn’t a good idea, the elders will definitely have words to say but Din didn’t care, anything to fix the gaping hole that occupied where his heart should be.

“Okay..” it’s soft.. unsure but he swears that he’ll do anything to keep her here. The darkness of the room doesn’t show it but Din’s chest finally let’s out a breath of air. “I can’t promise anything.. but I will try Din.”

“Can I come up there with you?”

“You don’t have to ask Din. It’s your bed.”

Din stands on shaky legs but curls up next to his girl, for the first time tonight not aching with sadness, anxiety. There’s a shift in the air, it’s no longer tense but filled with comfortable silence. “I want you to have a safe space here, this could be yours. I don’t have to be here.”

Before she can argue his arms pull her into his chest, no doubt the clay smears against skin. Any reasonable person would think the basker it cold, and uncomfortable but it’s quite the opposite; soft, warmth against her cheek despite the small hairs that tickle her forehead but instinctively presses a soothing kiss to his chin.

Fingers soak against her skin, up and down the think of her forearm as deep and shallow breaths calm him down. Despite the fact she chose to forgive him, his heart is still stammering inside his chest.

“Look at me, see me the way no one else does.” It’s so easy to give up the creed, it’s all for her. He has no doubt that she will accept his offer of marriage, it may take time but he won’t give up.

“I don’t want to.” She pauses, “I don’t want to be the reason you disappoint your clan anymore then necessary.”

Din doesn’t know what to say. He’s happy at the answer but kind of hoped she did open her eyes, relieve him of this weight of the creed. “If you marry me.. you’ll be able to see whenever you want. It won’t break my creed.”

“I don’t think that’s for the best.” It’s finally said with his future’s best interest. The leader of the clan needed a strong queen, and will not accept anyone but Mandalorian like them. The way the elders talked about the marriage with her to Din was enough to know she will never be welcomed here, She would not be the reason for his shame.

“I was hoping you didn’t hear that.” She bites the inside of her cheek with heat that sears her face, not knowing what to say.

“Stay a little longer. If you decide you don’t want to marry me then I’ll bring you home myself. Be open minded with me. No matter how much I love you, I love you enough to let you go sweet girl. I want you to know that.” The words sting hard against both of their hearts, a large scar that would stay forever.

“I’ll stay with you.” While she doubts her mind will change, it hurts too much to think of a life without the Mandalorian, without Grogu. “I love you too Bear.”

The lips that meet hers are bruising, almost too rough as they show their appreciation but just enough that all air is knocked from her chest, heat sources from her stomach, setting cheeks ablaze. “Maker – you are so sweet, my sweet girl.”

“You – just always make me feel so…” He can’t put the feeling into words, how could he explain the thumping his chest every time she smiles? The instant warmth when her skin touches his own? There are no words that can explain the way his heat falters inside his chest, heat burns cheeks that it’s embarrassing, thankfully she can’t see. “Right…” Are the words he decided to go with, simple but they hold meaning. “It feels so right with you.”

***

Morning rolled around way too quick, the bright white light temporarily blinding the pair as the shift away from the window, it’s perfect sync the way his chest presses against her back and flushes against his skin, arms wrapping around her waist feel the warmth. Lips lay soft kisses against the skin of her shoulder with a soft sigh. “Goodmoring pretty girl.”

There’s a certain softness that lingers in the air, the vulnerability of last night weighs heavy but despite the tears when the morning light hits there’s hope, hope of holding onto what hangs by a thin thread.

Even though her eyes are open, she doesn’t dare turn due to the fear of too much light entering the room. Small, green fingers press against her cheeks with a soft coo, head tilting just enough so his head level with his mother. “Good morning bear..” Fingers stretching out to pull the child closer only to press a soft kiss to the talons of his fingers as she addresses him. “Hi little one, how long have you been up?”

Din doesn’t have to look at the child to know what he wants as he sighs, lips pressing into her neck to savior one more minute of her skin, her smell.

“Get ready, we will go get breakfast and go for a walk. I have something to show you." 

***

After breakfast, making sure his girl and son are fed, he asks one of the others of the clan to watch the child, which is gladly accepted. It hurts, she’s glad for the little guy, how easily the clan wants him but can’t help but feel a little jealous, especially the looks they get as her and Din walk hand and hand into the forest. 

During the little walk Din tells her stories of wondering in this exact forest, always getting in trouble for wondering too far, climbing trees that are too high, he’s always had that spark, the need to adventure, it’s no surprise why he left his home for so long.

The temple isn’t that big, small compared to the one she managed to squeeze into and interrupt the meeting between Din and the Elders yesterday but it’s older. The thickness and greenery of the forest had started to take it over, long vines and trees form into it, small peaks of gold and tan clay peek through, if it wasn’t for the sun hitting the peak of beskar at the point of the roof it would be impossible to even know it’s there. 

Curious eyes peer back as she faces the helmet, through her own reflection she can see the way the sun beats down on her, eyes crystals as Din laces his fingers with her own guiding her towards the entrance with a, “Come, my love.”

The hall is dark, there’s no source of light until orange finger tips press into the side of his helmet where a small flash of light is orbited into the hall. There’s a few doors, old and withering but Din pulls her through one giant open arch and once entering the room she’s greeted with colorful bindings of books, covers made from bright oranges to dull browns, bookcases built into the clay walls surround her. 

There’s a large book in particular, all alone on a podium that stands alone in the center of the room, it’s made from old leather, pages torn and weathered but the same symbol on the front cover is the necklace that is wrapped around Grogu’s neck from a piece of strand, the one Din has given him so long ago. 

"This is my legacy.” Din’s fingers press against the small of her back, guiding slowly towards the old book. Orange fingertips run the binding, helmet looking back at her for confirmation. She nods unsurely as he flips it open, there’s scribbles, symbols in which she doesn’t understand but there’s pages and pages until he stops. There’s two words at the tops of the page, fingers trace the hydrographics as she catches the sigh under the vocoder. “I was not born a Mandalorian but the people who took me in, my father watched out for the clan before me. This is his name.”

There’s a line, different from all the others bold in the color red, the first of it’s kind as he traces it to the other word. “This is my name. Much like you, I was an outsider. I wasn’t part of the clan until I swore the creed.”

“You want me to swear the creed?”

“No mesh'la.” It’s amazing how clam and collective his is, never faltering from what he’s trying to explain just trying to get her to understand, feel what he’s trying to say. “The red line broke the first rule in the history of this clan, no outsider even a foundling is able to be Mand'lor but here I am.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you are so worried about my name but being my wife will not shame me.” Din continues before any other words could be said, “You believe that you will make the clan dislike me but I have been shamed by whole life. My father made sure of that when he named me to suppress him as next Mand'lor. He broke the rule of only a child being born into a clan to be leader. He chose me.”

“Din you are a real  -.”

“Shhhh. Let me finish.” A soft hand soothes the top of her head, words dying in her throat as he plays with the tips of her hair, smooth and untamed from just being thrown back into a messy updo. “My father is much like me. Him and my mom could not have children, they tried and tried. For pure respect for my mother he wouldn’t accept his breeder so he named me his son, it was against all rules, made me next in line.”

The red line almost represents how different he is, the target he still has on his back even though it was so many cycles ago. “You will not shame me, they already don’t accept me. They do not want me as their leader but not even the elders can take my title away only by a challenge but I don’t see that happening.”

He pauses, pressing closer until the helmet kisses the smooth skin of her cheek. “What I am trying to say is you don’t need to worry about my name, it’s already wrong to them, I will never be what they want.” His touch is soft, gentle as flat palms rub softly against shoulders, rubbing gently against her biceps, squeezing gently. “If it ever comes to it Grogu will be named by heir, I will not accept any breeder.”

The feeling in his own chest was heavy, crushing memories of teasing and unwanted stares as a child, he can still see some now as he walks through the small village, he was never meant to be here, he’s an outsider no matter how much he wants to believe less. “We are the same, except I am not more accepted because I am Mandalorian, while you are -”

“Not.” She finishes biting her lip with such intensity that the skin breaks, a small spot of blood appear but gloves press against her cheek, angling her face to meet his gaze, or which she guesses is his gaze. 

“You will be if you marry me, they will have to accept you. It’s the creed.” Guilty eyes drops from his own, watching the way his chest moves under all the beskar, slow, nervous breaths but he understands. “You don’t need to answer me, I told you to think about it but just know, nothing in this world can come between us. No elders and especially no breeder, there’s no one else I want. For you I would do anything and if they means breaking all the rules and having my clan disapprove of me more I do not care.” Smooth fingers rub across cheek bones, a tickle of a smile against his features.

“You can’t see but I’m smiling. Just being here with you is enough for me.” 

There’s a ghost of a one that makes her cheeks blush at his close proximity. “I bet it’s beautiful bear.”

There’s something sweet about the words, almost tooth rotting as his chest fills will molten lava, fingers sieving to take in the hit of them. Never had he heard such sweetness, such softness when it came to himself, it’s intoxicating, making him dizzy with want, eyes drop down to her lips, covering her eyes and reaching behind him to throw the helmet to the ground, not caring where it falls to press smooth lips against her own. 

The air barely touched his face before he is tugging her forward, hand that once covered her eyes tangle her hair as their lips meet with a rush, feverish and filled with intensity. The force of his lips on hers, tongue meeting hers with such intensity it’s bruising but the only way he can pour his heart out. Hearts beating fast inside both of their chests, her own hands find the ringlets of his hair, tugging to deepen the kiss as fist tighten on his own end. Din tilts his head slightly, the bridge of his nose pressing against her nose bumping his own lips into her top one, tongue sliding against them with a deep moan but he stops - doesn’t pull away just enjoys the feeling of hers against his own.

At first she’s confused, breathless moving away but keeping her eyes closed but the heavy throbbing against her hip gives it away. Maker, he’s embarrassed, cheeks hot as he presses his own forehead against hers with a sigh. “I’m sorry -.”

“What are you sorry for?” She offers him a comforting smile, pressing a kiss against his cheek, it’s sweet. “There’s no reason.”

“So sweet.” The way she smiles against his skin, feeling his own dimples against her cheek as arms wrap tightly around the Mandalorian only to feel him squeeze back. “My sweet girl.”

***

By the time they get back darkness is starting to fall over the horizon, the large fire and a few torches light the way to home. Din has left a little over an hour ago, which is usually normal except for the fact that he said he’ll be right back with Grogu but still isn’t here.

She debates leaving, mostly because the glances and snarls that would follow her especially not be escorted by Din, but she’s worried. What if something happened to Din? Or worse Grogu?

Once again she was wondering down the lit up path, no one seemed to be around, a few children pause from their playing and smile at her but other then that she enters the dinning hall, it’s filled. The first thing she manages to do is smell the beautiful aroma of food that makes her stomach growl, not realizing how hungry she is but that comes to an end when the whole room drops silent.

All eyes are on her, forks dropping with a clank as hateful eyes glare intensely. In the corner of her eyes she sees the Mandalorian stand, no one can see his face but the way the ‘T’ of his visor stares is dangerous, testing, the growl the rumbles his chest is a warning, anyone who had a scene would deal with him. That was enough promise to have the room eating again, no longer silent as chatter fills the mess hall again.

A hand is placed against the small of her back, cheek of his helmet kisses her own with a whisper. “What are you doing here, love?”

The words sting, eyes shift over his own with a grimace as she pulls away from his touch. “Why? Is this only for the clan?”

A way to separate her more, keep the clan happy by isolating her from any form any outing. It makes sense, the Mandalorian wouldn’t have his people constantly at his throat, suddenly his words from before no longer mattered, they made her stomach twist, eyes water as the Din shakes his head. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. hey, hey..” Fingers pull her close into his chest, fingers grip her chin, force her to peer into his eyes. “We have a visitor from another clan is all. He can be a real asshole, I just didn’t want you around him. 

“Why because I’ll shame you even more?”

“Stop.” It’s firm, sends shivers down her skin at how he stiffens, looking around the room not wanting to make too much of a scene. “Come sit and eat.. I was just about to bring you dinner.”

It’s hard not to be obedient, he’s intimating, towers over her and she just knows the scowl under his helmet. Before anymore attention can be drawn to the pair he’s walking towards the table, leaving her standing there with no chose to take the seat next to him. 

“Who is this?” She barely had a chance to register the two additions to the table, the one is a woman with long blonde hair, piercing blue eyes that sits almost on top of the man, she wears nothing but a thin, sheer dress that when she moves her arms the outline of her nipples can be seen but no one seems too interested, almost as if it was normal. There’s a blue Mandalorian next to her, large beads lay against his chest, they also match Din’s necklaces but are made from beskar and gold. His armor is quiet similar, but it’s a dark, royal blue with lines of gold in the creases of it, his helmet his decorated with dark, black lines of clay, there’s no symbols just senseless finger paint. 

Din looks up to meet his gaze, there’s a warning in his silence but the other Mandalorian doesn’t seem to care, only tilts his head with a look she can only guess is mischief. “You know Din, It’s very uncommon to take a mistress before having a wife.”

“I’m not a mistress.” The words are hissed through her teeth, jaw flexing as she clenches them. The blue Mandalorian laughs, it’s crackles darkly and makes her stomach turn. 

“Firey, I love it. I wonder if what you have under that tunic is as beautiful as you are, Mesh’la.” The same words that sound so good on the tongue of Din sound so sickly and dark on the strangers. Fist ball against her lap, the feeling of Din’s hands against her back are there to calm her, stopping her from speaking anymore so naturally, he does instead. 

“Leave her alone.” Din wishes to say more but just dismisses the man, at the very moment he could not risk a war between the clans, especially after being gone for so long. What good leader would bring war and destruction on only their first few weeks back? Besides it was only a few weeks before the Winter Solaces and despite how much he wanted to wrap his hands around Viven’s neck, he couldn’t risk returning from the summer lands with his own homeland in ruins.  

Din was going to let it go, leave his girl to eat but the words Viven says next makes his blood boil, “You can have mine, If i can have yours.”

His mouth falls open under the helmet, anger burns his veins and continues to warming is body as it spreads like water until he’s abruptly standing but Viven is not easily scared, he matches his stance, leaning over to  push Din’s fingers away as they come down as a warning against his chest as he speaks. “You are in my land, insulting my woman -.”

Din’s hand twitches next to the blaster strapped to his hip as Viven leans closer. “You don’t scare me Din, you’re not even a real Mandalorian.”

The way Din shakes is scary, trembling as his breaths holds inside his chest before long, quick breaths move the beskar as he moves to with no doubt pounce at the man but the small hands takes his own distract him as warm fingers twine through the gaps of his own quickly pulling him towards the exit without a word.

She manages to pull them into a room down the hall, hands pressing against his chest in hopes that the change of scenery will help but his hands snatch her wrist, a rough almost inaudible growl catches the static of the vocoder. “The way he talked about you like you were some piece of meat, I’m going to kill him.”

“Shhh.” She sooths, fingers pressing against that junction of where the helmet and his shirt almost meet, leaving that small piece of skin that just radiates heat, curling the hairs with her pointer finger. His chest is stuttering under her touch but he’s too angry to notice, it’s sits in his stomach every breath that expands his chest burns with fury. 

“No, I’m going to go out there and teach him how to respect a woman.” He’s trembling, intensely staring at her as she reaches over to curl her fingers under the chest plate but he’s ready to break away, fist forming to charge out that door and snap his neck but as her hands drop lower his breath stops. His chest doesn’t dare move as her own hands shake but for a whole another reason. She’s nervous, scared of whatever the Mandalorian might do and this time it would be her fault, she would be the reason and the clan would blame him, hate him more than they already do. Fingers slip low and lower until they squeeze the outline of his erection.

He didn’t even notice over the anger and frustration that had filled his entire being but none the less she earns a lustful moan. His fingers catch her wrist, rougher then he tends too but he can think, with anger rushing his body and her hand wrapping around his throbbing hardness. It’s too much, other hand finds her hip digging small crescent shaped marks into the skin through her shirt. “W-What are you doi -.”

“Shhh, let me take care of you. Can I?” It was risky, nothing she would ever do but the only way she could possibly think to distract him. He’s tense, not moving a muscle as the small hands leave his erection instead fall under his shirt as fingers run along the line of his trousers, feeling the coolness of the jean’s button before pressing down and pulling it from the buttonhole. Her hand slips down, past the elastic of his underwear to hold his heavy cock in her hand, he hisses instantly at the contact, eyes never leaving hers as a thumb moves up to spread the beading pre-cum to lubricate her hand as gives him a test stoke in which he lets out a loud groan.

“Please.” It’s a whimper, barely audible but just enough to show how bad he needs this. Almost instantly her hands tighten, moving at a pace that makes his head spin.

His heart is pounding inside his chest, it’s heard in his ears unable to make out any other words. Heat fills the helmet, a thick fog made from his own pants makes it hard to breath, it’s exciting, exhilarating as he can still hear the chatting and clanking of forks that’s just separated by a wall. 

“Maker, pretty girl.” It’s whimpered against her hair slow, and breathlessly through the static of his helmet as it falls to rest his forehead against the top of her hair as her hand sets an unforgiving pace. 

Small pants bounce of the walls, his hips move to meet up to her own trembling hands. He let’s out a whine of disappointment as she pulls away but his eyes widening as she brings her hand close to her mouth, spitting on her palm. “Fuck…”

He’s so lost in the moment, the way her wet palm wraps around his pulsing cock as sweat begins to bead across his forehead, heat growing deep inside his stomach as he trembles under the feeling of her hand tighten around the base of his cock. Eyes squeezing in pleasure as the familiar pit inside his stomach begins to build as she strokes in time to meet up with his thrusts.

He’s falling deeper and deeper into her spell, thoughts filled with her.

It’s all her, how good her hand feels milking him for all he can offer, how beautiful she looks like this, eyes never leaving his own as the words fall from swollen lips. “Are you going to cum for me Din?”

It’s pure heaven, the way her thumb rubs his head ever so often. Just the right amount of pressure that it stings so good, burns his thighs as her fingertips dig into them. 

“Yes, Maker, yes sweetheart.” He chokes, body stiffening as he feels his balls tighten, body stutter as she pushing his pants lower past his knees as she kneels. The sounds that bounce off the wall are sinful, dirty and wet as a familiar ball of heat fills his stomach as she drops onto her knees.

She offers her face, mouth opening slightly in concentration as her hand squeezes his head one more time but he can’t help but think it’s for him as his thighs quiver and with one last trust into her hand as white, thick strands of cum paint her face pretty.

The Mandalorian in panting above her, fingers that found her hair are now rubbing softly, curling around the hair in a comforting but lazily way. He feels slightly dizzy, a post orgasm haze blurs his eyes, makes his knees ache but none the less he tucks himself back into his pants before sitting in front of her. He pulls at his cape, pressing gently against her skin to wipe at his mess, a soft laughing falling from his lips. 

“To think I thought you brought me in here to calm me down.” There’s that sweet smile that makes his heart jump but the way her eyebrows furrow with playful eyes is new. 

“That’s what I was doing.”

“Sneaky girl.” The words are whispered affectionally into her neck as he finishes and throws the cape somewhere across the room. There’s a  small tisk that falls from his lips makes her laugh. Fingers roam the bottom of the helm, seeking a kiss from those soft lips but the loud commotion outside makes him stiffen, raising to his feet as the yelling continue. His hand takes her own, this time he is the one dragging her through the threshold of the dinning hall.  Viven stands over the crowd as if he wants to speak but that’s not what pisses Din off, it’s how  dangerously close to his throne, almost acting like it doesn’t exist. 

“This man can’t lead you!” Viven’s words are loud, powerful from his chest as he catches their attention. The dinning hall is quiet now, a celebration now ruined with sourness. “He will betray the way of the Mandalore, he will shame us all, he has no wife, offers no future for you. He holds a foundling that will never survive, it is too weak. He has failed to bring it back to it’s people.”

Din stiffens at the words, hateful as they spray across the room. His son will survive, he is stronger than anyone here, no one chooses to see it. The mention of Grogu as his first balling on his lap as murmurs break the threshold of silence, heavy boots echo across the hall until they take one step onto the platform, standing to tower the man as the orange tips of his gloves poke at the blue Mandalorian’s armor. “Leave my son’s name out of your mouth, mind your words.”

"Or what? You already shame your clan by not having a wife… Do you plan on stringing this poor girl on forever?” The words make her cheeks flush in anger but realization hits Din almost instantly - the man had made it clear he wanted her but only because he thought it was all for fun, nothing but a sense or pleasure. Viven thought Din had no intention of marrying the girl because it was unheard of, a clan leader must marry another of similar rank, not a nobody who was not a mandalorian none the less. Then again Din wasn’t supposed to have the power he holds, the rules aren’t meant to be broken but also are not set in stone. Even though it wasn’t seen, Din’s stare was intense and boring a hole into the front of Viven’s visor, heart thumping against his chest with frustration, anger that Viven ever thought he would just give her away, trade her like she was  some kind of property.

“That’s not true.” The words leave her mouth before she realizes what she is saying, she’s so frustrated with the whole situation and watching how Din’s shoulders fell with Viven’s last words was the last straw. “We are getting married.”

The way everyone’s glares towards her at the words made her nervous but nothing compared to the way her heart jumped inside her chest as Din’s helmet snaps in her direction. Din felt his cheeks warm, suddenly the man challenging his authority didn’t matter. He’s thankful for the helmet at this very moment as it hides the pink patches of blush on his chest and cheeks. He tries to open his mouth and speak but the twitch of his lips stops him, she looks beautiful right now. 

Frustration clear on her red face, eyebrows furrow with agitation but she bites her bottom lip at his gaze feeling heat over her own skin as she chews it nervously. For a moment they are the only two people the exist, a little lost, unsure but no matter how much they try and fight it they would never be the same without each other. “I’ve accepted his marriage proposal.”

With those five words the room breaks out in chaos but Din can’t seem to care, his eyes can’t leave the sight of his future riduur.

Viven’s dark eyes run over the sight of Din, a loud growl coming from his chest. “I warned your father about you becoming leader, you do nothing but shame our name. You’re not even a real Mandalorian!”

Din’s body physically stiffens, hot, pulsing anger setting his skin ablaze. It’s not anything new, hearing it his whole life how he will never match up to the expectations of them but none the less he was still named leader.

Viven yells words in a different dialect but the reaction of the crowd is filled with yells of support, cheering in a sickening way that makes her stomach twist. Din’s eyes shift from hers to the blue Mandalorian, his words are also foreign but the crowd let’s out a victory cry, it’s sick of easily his own clan turns on him. 

Din Djarin has accepted the challenge to the death for his rightful place as Mand'lor and she has absolutely no idea as Din reaches behind his back to retrieve the spear of beskar as he lets out a warriors cry. 

Tags: @xxyoshiplushxx, @altarsw​, @dinsbeskar​​, @engie115, @owloveyounever​, @peterpangirl21, @couldntbedamned​, @poguesvixen​, @mudhornchronicles​, @mcueveryday​, @softly-sad​, @heythere-mel​, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​, @the-last-twin-of-krypton​, @nikkixostan​, @coonflix​, @victias​ (if you want to be tagged, tag list is up by summary)

[jangosweat]

Surprise (Part One)

Pairing: younger Boba Fett x female reader Summary: Boba is on a mission, you happen to have more than just some information for him. Length: don't @ me ok this got away from me pretty quickly, the gc chose violence the other day and my brain ran the fuck away with it so... LONG. Warnings: NSFW, Boba smokes in this ok (smoking is bad ofc), strong language, explicit content, alcohol consumption, virgin!Boba, eventual p in v Tagging these bucket fuckers: @batfamily14 @kavecika @aurea-corde @beskarprincessjenny @ahoeformando @onabouteverything @rosethornsxx @latenightsthoughtsnstuff @deewithani @hobbitlover23 @thisgirl-knm @adonishxney @vegethiagoddess @the-siren-writes-it @tibbietibbs @meabravo @kenob1 @theifofstars @metchachotto @blissful--moon @mysticalgalaxysalad

ENJOY!!!

It was a shame really, having flown out all this way with a strong signal until the night Boba Fett had landed his ship down on this bustling planet, after a month of hunting and beating the information out of humans and a few droids he needed for his latest quarry he had come up short.

He hated being let down, he was on a roll with capturing quarry after quarry, bringing them to their knees with a swift prowess only he seemed to encapsulate. His father's genes he would think thoughtfully as he laid in bed. The cuts and bruises would soon fade, adding to his track record as being one of the up and coming best bounty hunter in the parsec. He was making a name for himself, preening when he'd enter some dive bar or cantina, all eyes on him and rumor had it that if you saw his painted beskar, someone was in big kriffing trouble.

A pompous man only known to the hunter by the name of Tarrik was all he knew and that the client he was hired by wanted his payment. Now.

Boba tapped on his holopad, filling in his planner of sorts, archiving his triumphs as he sat wide legged at the edge of his bed aboard Slave I. He bit his lip, opening a new tab on the blueish screen, setting his sights on a map of the city. He used his fingers to expand the map, reaching absently at the table next to him to retrieve a lit cigarette of sorts. The shredded tobacco type substance was sweet and fragrant, coils of smoking spiraled around his fingers before he took a drag and kept on with his search.

He was on the right planet, nearby to where this theif was either hiding deftly among the people and aliens just outside from the landing areas restricted section or he was one step ahead of Fett and that thought alone made his eyebrows crease together. That was his job, to be on the Frontline, to outsmart his naïve prey. He sighed and kept the map page open, looking from a top view of what looked to be a little shopping center, a jewelry store with the name Tarrik's Trinkets lit up neon on the screen.

....

"Did you take inventory yet?"

"I'm on it right now!" You called back to one of your coworkers, she was on her way out to lunch, leaving you in charge of the jewelry store for the next hour. Your boss Tarrik had left a rather cryptic note of explanation that he had a family emergency and you and Juni were to be in charge of keeping to store up and running for the next few days.

She shrugged on a jacket, careful not to snag the flow of her long head-tails before leaving, telling you she'd bring you back something sweet.

The low chime of the store from the door opened and closed as you grabbed the holopad and set to work.

Only a few moments passed when you heard the chimes again, crouched underneath a display case you sing songed out. "Back so soon?"

You were met with silence.

That's odd you thought, you know you heard the door open...

"Juni?"

More silence.

When you finally stood to your full height you didn't see a soul in the store, you set the holopad down on the glass counter and rounded about the side. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon."

You jumped at the voice that answered you, that was definitely not Juni. You turned around to find a tall man, covered literally head to toe in some sort of hard armor and gloves, not a lick of his skin was presented to you, a T visor looked down at you. 

Stealthy son of a bitch you thought as you relaxed a little.

"Oh! Good afternoon sir." You smoothed your hands at your sides, curious as to who he might be. You've seen and met quite a few strangers, of all sorts but none as mysterious as the man before you. He tilted his helmet in acknowledgement and rested his gloved hands at his waist, fingers displaying on a utility belt.

"Nice place you've got here." His voice was covered with a thick modulator, you could hear the nice smooth tone of it even through the slight crackles.

"Thank you, we pride ourselves on serving the best and making the best. Even the gentry have been known to visit from time time, by their aides and associates of course. Is there something in particular you're looking for sir?" You asked.

The helmeted man looked around the empty store then back to you after a moment. "Is the owner perhaps around?"

"Not today. But I can be of any assistance you might need."

The man hummed and tapped his belt, strong and quiet as he peered around again as if casing the joint and that set you on edge, tiny hairs on the back of your neck prickled and you moved back behind the display case you were just working on.

"Do you do customized pieces?" The man asked, turning on his heel to see where you had scurried off to.

"Of course we do! Do you have something in mind?"

The man pondered and leaned against the top of the case, a sweet smell wafted into your nose as he looked down at some of the pieces laid out on a fine Vermillion felt. "What might you suggest?"

"Is it for you or a someone special? A partner perhaps? A special occasion maybe..."

"I'm not a married man if that's what you're asking. Jewelry doesn't fit in with my armor. Someone special I suppose."

"Alrighty, how special are we talking?" You asked using one of your hands to showcase what you had at this case. "We have earrings, these are a popular buy or if want something more flashy we have bracelets and necklaces over there."

"A necklace will do I think."

"Excellent! Why don't you follow me over here then," you waved him over and he followed slowly after you, stopping to look at how nicely you had placed the varying lengths and sizes of adornments. "What kind would you like? Have you seen them in something familiar in style or coloring? A gemstone or two maybe..."

"What would you like?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. What would you like to receive as a gift?"

Oh.

No one had ever asked you for your personal opinion on the matter, not in that way at least. You had modeled a few items for your customers, if you were a similar size neck or wrist for the client but never had someone asked what you would prefer to wear.

No one had bought you jewelry before so the question had you stunned for a moment to think.

"Well... I don't like gaudy items, I'm more of a dainty subtle kinda' girl. If it were me, I'd go with a lariat style. It's just enough to catch someone's eye and when the sun hits it just it right, you know it's something special."

"Hmm can you show me? Might be interested in something like that." The man was sold you could tell, you were top in sales last month after all.

You smiled and bent down and brought out the style you were talking about, proudly showing off the necklace. "What do you think?"

The man hummed and touched the slinky necklace, as if he could feel the smoothness through those thick gloves. "Classy. You said I could add an gemstone no?"

"Absolutely sir, whatever modification you'd like we can do. It will cost extra of course." You explained and the man chuckled through his modulator.

"Of course. Money is of no expense to me smart girl. Three emeralds will do I think."

Emeralds? Three emeralds no less! This man had expensive taste and could afford it.

"Placement? They would like very royal spaced out like this," the man nodded once in agreement once you showed him your idea. "How about length?"

His T visor rose slowly from the necklace, taking his time to look at you as if you could see his face underneath. "Their about your size I suppose."

"For my neck I'd prefer a sixteen inch in length."

"Let's do it then."

That was easy, you smiled and made a quick sketch on a spare holopad nearby, a glimpse of what his custom piece would look like and cost. He agreed to the amount and gave his signature on the pad.

All it said was Mando when you took it back.

"As I'm sure you're aware sir, Emeralds can take some time to set, about a week or so, is that ok?"

"Absolutely." The man breathed and took out a strange looking square of steel, placing it in your hand before he took a step back and took his leave.

The chimes of the door sang again as he left, leaving you with his personal comm link number on the back of what looked like an imperial credit business card. But no name was present.

....

Boba thought of you while he took off his armor for the night, snagging a few bags of food from a very skittish man and woman at a food stall on his way back from the shopping market.

You had called him Sir, either out of sheer politeness or intimidation. Not that he was taught to call attention to himself or his armor or profession, like his father had instilled in him as a boy, but it alarmed him. Took him down a notch. He was just a man to you, clad in his father's beskar. He wasn't scary to you and that humbled him, where his name proceeded him nowadays, being unrecognizable was in a way a touch of honey to the battered man.

You didn't know his name like so many others had. Didn't cower in fear that he was possibly after you. No, he was after your boss. He didn't want to scare you, he was after one man not an army and certainly not a shopkeeper like yourself.

He had hoped you would call him the next day, give him details about the necklace that he bought on a whim with no real flesh and blood person to give it to. It was a means to an end, get in good with you, nonchalant and easy in order to find out the whereabouts of Tarrik.

It was only one meeting with you but as he sat in just his underclothes, untying the bag of steaming food, he couldn't help but feel a little off about using you. Strange as that may seem.

You didn't call the next day or the next after that, four days later he wondered if he should stop by the shop again just to see. Scope it out even though the puck he toyed with wasn't blinking.

He lit one of his cigarettes while he cleaned his armor, leaning his hip against one his many weaponry crates that made their home in the hull of his ship. He let it dangle from his lip before maneuvering it between his front teeth as he cleaned his helmet. The unsuspecting call from his comm link took him out of his routine, he popped the piece next to his chest plate into his ear.

"Hello?"

"Mando?" You sounded unsure of yourself, Boba narrowed his eyebrows as to why until he realized his helmet was in his hands, not placed on his head.

"Speaking. Everything going alright?" It never occurred to him that he had given you a name to call him but he didn't catch yours, too preoccupied with his song and dance of trying to sus out information and how you smiled at him. Not knowing the predator he truly was.

"Yeah yeah everything is fine with your piece it's just you forgot to put in your credit information. I was looking it over and-"

"When should I come in?" Boba stabbed out his cigarette.

"Oh uh whenever you're free would be great, were open until nine tonight if that works out for you?" You sounded excited and nervous which made him feel the same.

"I'll see you soon then."

You fumbled through some goodbye by the sound of it, Boba smiled and got dressed.

....

Tarrik's Trinkets seemed to be in a rush, there were people picking up some of their cleaned items and some were being helped, you were behind the register handing off a bag to a very excited young Twi’lek couple, they even kissed in front of everyone. An engagement Boba thought to himself, smiling under his helmet. As he made his way through the busy little store the engaged couple made eyes with him, wide ones as they hurried past, even as he had gave them a pleasant nod of his helm. 

The people outside in the shopping center had done the same when they had seen him strolling through the street.

None the wiser were you to his presence, another girl was asking you a question before returning to her own set of waiting customers.

He didn't know why all of a sudden a strange pang in his gut hit him then, she was close to you, her face next to your ear her hand on your elbow as you turned and answered her.

Boba Fett waited for the crowd to die down, patiently waiting towards the back wall full of portraits  of clients showing off the jewelry that was made here.

But once the rush was over he watched you close up the drawer and hang your head with a bit of exhaustion, your hands on the tabletop before he took his turn and made his way over to you.

"Busy night huh?"

You sprang up at the distinct tone of his modulated tone, eyes wide with Sprite but with a smile. "Mando! You’ve gotta’ stop sneaking up on me."

"I told you I was coming."

"Yeah but I didn't think so soon!" Your smile made him smile, you took out a holopad from underneath the glass, scrolling through until you found his name and lack of information. You handed it over to him.

"You said you closed at nine, wanted to get here before you closed." Boba answered while tapping in his numbers.

"Were still open for another hour, Mando." You countered, a flirty smile on your face as he handed the pad back to you.

"Had to be sure you didn't forget about me."

"How could I forget?"

So this was happening.

Usually when Boba flirted it was for information, nothing more than that and in a way it was exactly that but something more, some lingering feeling that felt natural when he spoke to you. 

The women he did flirt with always wanted something from, dank farrik everyone wanted something from him. To hire him to use him to dispose of him when they were through, he didn't let it bother him too much to waste sleepless nights on it but sometimes it hurt. Just a little bit. 

You were genuine about it though as he studied your face.

"So what is there to do around here? I haven't been on this side of the planet in a long time." He wanted to keep you talking, to hear your voice.

"Well that depends, what do you like to do? I doubt hiking with all that armor on." You pointed.

Boba chuckled, smiling at the fact he'd just left the dessert before landing here a few days ago. "Not exactly. What do you like to do?"

"Well I like art so I go to the museums a lot. There's quite a few bars and cantinas around too. A bunch of stuff really." You shrugged.

Boba hummed along and took a chance. "Do you go out for drinks a lot?"

"Sometimes I'll go out with Juni after work."

"Juni?"

"Oh! My coworker, she's around here somewhere." You looked around the store but didn't see her, neither did Boba and he was grateful for the one on one conversation.

"Ah ha. You know you never did tell me your name the other day."

You're face had look of shock when you looked up at him then. "I didn't?! That wasn't very professional of me, was it?”

"I won't tell on you."

You bit your bottom lip before apologizing, adding your name at the end with your hand out for him to take. It was dwarfed by the size of his hand and glove.

He cemented it to his brain, rolling it over and mouthing it behind the beskar of his helmet. "Mesh'la."

"Excuse me?"

"Mesh'la. It means beautiful in my native language."

"Oh! I like that."

Boba suddenly realized he was still holding your hand before he took it back gently. "Are you going out tonight?"

"Not that I'm aware of, why?" You cocked your head. "You wanna ask me out?"

Very bold little one.

"Maybe. Would you go out with me? Just for a drink, you can tell me about all the other places I should visit while I'm waiting."

"Sure. Why not?"

Boba's stomach twisted at your coy smile. "It's a date. I'll be waiting outside."

"Outside? Mando I still have an hour to work!" You protested.

He tapped the side of his helmet and the clock counter showed him the time. "Forty-five minutes. I can be patient." Boba then patted the glass counter, noticing the way you twisted in place as if bashfulness had grabbed you by the throat and strutted towards the door, looking over his shoulder at you still watching him as he chimed through the door.

He had done his job and damn well if he was being truthful to himself. He was proud and took up post just to the side of the store front, noticing how others jogged across the street from him while a few reckless others strolled by giving him a side eye.

They're lucky I'm not after them he thought as he checked the time again, only three minutes have passed and for some unexplained reason all he could do was picture your face and repeat your name over until it sounded faintly like an ancient prayer.

[theloneliestshipper]

I don't always do collaborations but when I do it's an utterly self-indulgent crossover of two Star Wars properties that have absolutely no reason to overlap and a potential audience of about five people. Also I do it with @nyelung.

AO3 Link

And never kick the ball! Rated T

“... Hutts don’t have feet!” The final words of Baroness Deathmark echo through the arena. Having heard the introduction a few dozen times or more in the last year alone, Boba could say it with her if he were in the mood. He’s not.

They’ve changed the arena up for the season. There’s only so many ways that the Nar Shaddaa Huttball arena can be changed but apparently they went all out this time and rearranged a significant portion of the walkways and traps. He can make out something that looks suspiciously like a series of trapdoors surrounding the mag-ball’s centre spot, undoubtedly hiding some nasty surprises. Well, since Fennec managed to draw Djarin in as the team captain he’s not too worried that one of their team will find out what’s beneath those trapdoors the hard way.

Two minutes into the game Boba is scowling inside his helmet - not an unusual occurrence if the Quesh Rotworms were to be asked. He came aboard as a coach last year, when there were children’s teams on Tatooine who could play better so they had seen it a lot.

“It’s nice that for once it’s not our players getting maimed,” Fennec comments. “It was getting hard to find new ones.

Huttball is one of the most brutal semi-legal sports in the galaxy and even though all players are fully armoured - part of the reason why the sport is so popular in the Mandalorian sector - and killing during the game has been forbidden since the Cold War, injuries or even crippledom aren’t uncommon because the players are also armed to the teeth. That’s what the Frogdog wearing the number seven just found out the hard way when Djarin and Aelto perfectly executed a manoeuvre to take the ball from him.

Baroness Deathmark on the other hand should avoid dark alleys tonight since the ban on killing did not apply to the way she verbally tore Frogdog Seven apart with her remarks. The handsigns he throws in the direction of the commentator box are basically a promise to hunt her down and kill her slowly and painfully. At least that’s what they mean in Mandalorian space and that’s what has Boba scowling. Why promise the commentator utterly brutal torture when it was Djarin and Aelto who maimed him?

It’s not his problem, Boba reminds himself and concentrates on giving Djarin reports on the Frogdog team’s movements. If Baroness Deathmark earns another deathmark to her name, it’s nothing he has to worry about.

In the end, Boba doesn’t have to feel too bad about the Rotworm’s performance even though they took quite the beating and lost by two points against the Frogdogs. Baroness Deathmark’s final comment is just as cutting as the spikes Tika fell on in the second half. They’re still stitching all the muscles and tendons back together in the med-area but Tika will probably never play again.

Still, just one player permanently out of commission and eight points scored versus ten lost is much better than the Rotworms have managed in decades. Overall Boba is quite content. “Do you think they serve Spotchka here?”

Fennec raises one brow. “Do you mean: Do they serve affordable Spotchka here that’s not actually engine grease? No idea, let’s find out.”

___

The commentator booth is quiet now. Leia takes a second to let her head fall back and to roll the stiffness out of her neck. When she turns her chair around, the event producer Lando Calrissian is standing in the doorway, his headset still on. “Nice work today,” he says, covering the mic with his hand. “You really live up to your name.”

“Let them try it,” Leia scoffs as she picks up her satchel and jacket. “If I had a credit for every huttballer who threatened to kill me I could retire yesterday. And anyway, I didn’t say anything that wasn’t blatantly obvious to every being in the stands.”

“Still, I’d watch your back while you’re on Nar Shaddaa. And listen, my buddy Han is in town this weekend. Why don’t you let me set you up?”

“I’m busy next weekend.”

“Sure you are. Where are you going now? Home to your tooka and the latest episode of Sith Mansions?”

“For your information I’m going to a cantina. To meet someone.”

The fact that she doesn’t yet know who she’s going to meet doesn’t seem important. She might be a farm girl from Anchorhead, but she’s never had any trouble getting someone to pay for her drinks. Maybe she’ll get really lucky and it’ll even be someone who isn’t a spicer, slicer, smuggler or assassin. That would be a nice change of pace.

The Slippery Slope cantina is crowded with fans. Some of the Frogdog and Rotworm players are there for their contract-mandated mingling. As usual the Mandalorian players keep their distinctive helmets on for the personal holos their fans will want and to protect their privacy.

She passes by a knot of fans in Frogdog colors, several different languages conversing in varying tones of outrage. She hears “the Baroness” and smiles to herself as she finds a seat at the bar. She doesn’t need a helmet to keep people from recognizing her face. It’s her voice they know...and sometimes despise.

There’s a man two seats down wearing Mandalorian armor, but it’s not painted with team colors. He’s a fan, maybe. His helmet is resting out of sight beneath the bar while he nurses a glass of Spotchka. Spotchka sounds pretty good, actually.

He glances in her direction, but there’s no shift in body language, no smile. Shame. He’s a good-looking man and probably has a very nice smile. Leia signals the bartender and nods in his direction. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

That catches his attention, if briefly. He lifts his glass in a silent salute, one eyebrow slightly raised. Still no offer. Maybe he’s partnered. She lets her eyes drift down over his armor, applying what she’s learned from interviews with the Mandalorian huttball players. It looks like beskar to her.

The bartender delivers her Spotchka and her attention strays from the Mandalorian to any other likely candidates at the bar. Everyone is talking about the match.

“She’s dead,” a heated voice rises behind her, but not addressed to her. “Who does she think she is? That play was bullshit. You know it, I know it. There was nothing he could have done.”

Leia doesn’t have to turn around to know that the person speaking is wearing Frogdog yellow. They can whine about it all they want, but their player had at least two opportunities to pass before the Rotworms took him out.

Some players want all the glory. That’s not her fault.

“She had no right to tear into him like that. No wonder everyone hates her.”

“It’s her fucking job.” The unexpected defense comes from the Mandalorian sitting two seats down. He’s turned his chair to face the yellow-clad group, and there’s an unmistakable challenge in his low tone. “If your player did his, you wouldn’t have lost him two minutes in.”

The man who was speaking turned a startling shade of purple. Almost Rotworm purple. “Who asked you?”

“It’s a public place. If you want to have a private conversation I suggest you go home.” It’s not a suggestion. The Mandalorian makes that clear by standing up.

“You can go to hell! You and that fucking bitch-”

“Did someone say my name?” Suddenly there’s a woman standing between them, and Leia recognizes her instantly. Fennec Shand. Her iconic steely gaze is now fixed on the outraged fan. “You want to go home.”

In spite of the clamor around them there’s a silence and stillness that makes the threat implicit. The fan bares his teeth in a snarl before turning to go. Some of his friends leave with him and the rest drift away.

Fennec’s head tips toward the bartender. “Her drink is on me.” She winks at Leia before walking away. Maybe she’s more recognizable than she thought.

“Well. That was exciting,” she says, more to herself, but the Mandalorian nods as he reclaims his seat.

“You know Fennec?”

“Just by reputation.” She takes a quick sip of her paid-for drink. “That’s definitely the first time a huttball coach has bought me a drink.”

“Your lucky night.” The corner of his mouth curves up just enough to make Leia feel validated. A very nice smile indeed.

“And she’s a legend, obviously. It’s a shame she’s stuck holding up the Rotworms by herself.”

His smile hardens, just a little. “Is it?”

“There’s gotta be a dozen better teams who would be delighted to have her. And the Rotworms might be better than they were a year ago, but their offense is still half-awake at best and I heard her defense coach only got the job because his daddy rules Mandalore.”

“You believe everything you hear?”

“No, but I kind of have to keep my ear to the ground. Like you said, it’s my fucking job.”

“You’re Baroness Deathmark.” He says it with disbelief. “That’s why-” He directs a look of annoyance at the place where Fennec Shand vanished into the crowd.

“My friends call me ‘Leia.’” She leans forward, resting her chin on her hand. “I don’t think I got your name.”

For a moment the Mandalorian hesitates. Then there’s a shift in his posture, a slight relaxing of his shoulders and Leia’s willing to bet that that twitch in his face could become an actual playful smile. “Why don’t you tell me? Since it’s your job to know everything.”

It’s a challenge that makes her sit up. He’s someone connected, then. A promoter or a staff member. That explains how he knows Fennec. “Okay,” she says, intrigued. This could be fun. “Where did you grow up?”

“Kamino. What about you?”

She’s never heard of it. No help there. “Tatooine. My local team was the Anchorhead Womp Rats.”

“Did you play?”

“I’m supposed to be the one asking the questions,” she reminds him. “Did you play?”

“Yes. For the Skullhunters of Mandalore.”

“Fenn Shysa’s team?”

His head tilts to one side. “How do you know Fenn?”

“Everyone knows Fenn. Are you single?”

“You think that will help you figure it out?”

She raises her eyebrows. “Maybe I just want to know.”

“Yes. I’m single. You?”

“Yes.” She pauses to take a sip of Spotchka. “I wanted to play, but Uncle Owen wouldn’t let me. Too violent. I tried telling him that it wasn’t like the old days where entire teams could be massacred in a match, but for some reason he didn’t find that convincing.”

He nods in agreement. “It used to be a rite of passage in Mando culture. Now it’s just sports.”

“You don’t sound too enthusiastic for someone hanging out with Fennec Shand.” For a short moment Leia entertains the question whether he resents the no-killing-part or Huttball itself.

He shrugs. “There’s better sports.”

She hates to admit it, but she’s stumped. He knows the game but doesn’t particularly seem to like it. He can handle himself in a confrontation but it’s not as if the legendary Fennec Shand needs a bodyguard. Is it possible that someone actually hired a Mandalorian to take out Baroness Deathmark? But no, his surprise about her identity had been genuine. “Okay, final question. Why are you here?”

“Don’t quote me on this… nah, forget it.”

Oh, so it’s a story. “Come on. Entertain a lady.”

It’s clear that he’s tempted, calculating loss of face versus the chance to win her over for wherever this flirtation is going. Leia’s got a few suggestions already lined up in her mind. With an inaudible sigh he comes to a decision. “Dad kept nagging me to make connections beyond bounty hunting and Huttball is a lucrative enough business. It could be worse.”

Now there’s a hint. “So your father is…?”

“Some might say he rules Mandalore.” He gives her a quick smirk before finishing off his drink.

It all adds up quickly in her head, his history as a player on Mandalore, his knowledge of the game and his connection to Fennec Shand. She sets her glass down hastily in case she needs to make a very quick exit.

“You asked for my name,” he says, drawing it out with the ruthlessness of a professional Huttball defensive coach. “It’s Boba Fett. And for the record, that’s not how I got the job.”

As he speaks he stands and removes his helmet from the shelf under the bar and Leia recognizes it immediately. For one thing, it has the Rotworm logo painted on the side. She couldn’t say a word now even if she tried, but when Boba Fett turns to face her, it’s with a smile.

“I’m sure you have more opinions on what my team did wrong. Maybe you’d like to tell them to me over dinner.”

“I do,” she manages. “Especially about your team’s inability to follow through.” Feeling a little bit daring, Leia leans in to make her intentions perfectly clear. “What about dinner at my place?”

[hrtiu]

Refiner’s Fire

Din rubbed at the smidge of tarnish on his pauldron with his polishing cloth over and over again, but the blemish wouldn’t go away. Beskar wasn’t supposed to dim at all, so Din wasn’t sure how it had gotten there, but he wasn’t about to let it go—especially not right next to his clan signet.

The lovingly-restored cabin of Slave I hummed around him, comforting despite its unfamiliarity. He was alone, the other passengers having sensed his need for solitude and converged on the cockpit. He was alone.

Over the past few months Din had grown accustomed to alone meaning alone with the kid, but now it just meant him. Him all by himself, with nothing but some tainted armor.

The door to the cabin hissed open and Ahsoka poked her head in, knocking on the doorframe before coming in. “Alright if I join you?”

Din didn’t look up from the pauldron, still rubbing it fruitlessly with his polishing rag. “Do what you like.”

He knew he should make an effort to be friendly. She’d agreed to help him with the assault on Moff Gideon when she’d had every reason to refuse. But he couldn’t summon the energy to care—not with the kid gone.

Ahsoka sat with him in silence for several long minutes, her presence irritatingly composed and serene. Din could feel her eyes on him, evaluating and measuring and using whatever sorcerer power she had to judge him.

“Something weighs on your mind,” she said.

Din kept scrubbing at the shiny metal of his pauldron. “There’s a smudge, a stain here I can’t seem to get out.”

Out of the corner of his visor Din could see Ahsoka sitting across from him, her hands clasped in her lap and her expression grim.

“Beskar doesn’t tarnish, Mandalorian.”

“What would you know about it, Jedi?”

“I’ve worn beskar armor before.”

“Well you shouldn’t have!” Din said, finally looking up from his work. “Beskar is the inheritance of the Mandalorians! It’s not meant to be sullied by unworthy-!” Din’s voice cracked on the words and he lost himself in what he was trying to say. His sudden ire ebbed, and his gaze fell back to the pauldron, held in his grimy, gloved hands. “By… by unworthy hands…”

Ahsoka stood and moved to sit by Din’s side, resting a hand gently on the pauldron but careful not to touch him. “I know what it is to hold yourself to a strict code. To try to live by impossibly high standards.”

“They’re not impossibly high,” Din objected. “It’s simple. So karking simple.”

“Was it?”

Din dropped the pauldron to the floor, his hands coming up to hold his helmeted face in his palms. “No… No it wasn’t.”

Ahsoka let him unravel, waiting patiently as his head sank to his knees and his shoulders shook. She picked up the dropped pauldron and studied it closely, expression thoughtful.

“You know that beskar doesn’t start out pure and untarnishable, right?” she said.

“What?” Din asked, head still bowed.

“When it’s mined, it’s combined with all other kinds of metal and dirt. It looks about as special as any old hunk of rock.”

Din lifted his head just enough to look up at her, certain his eyes were sore and bloodshot though she couldn’t see through his visor.

“Beskar ore goes through a purification process, heated in a refiner’s fire until all the waste is burned away.”

Din continued to stare at her, waiting for her to make her point. She was obviously building to something, and he wasn’t about to add commentary when her lecture clearly didn’t require any.

“Even beskar doesn’t start out perfect, Mandalorian. Neither do you,” she said.

Din narrowed his eyes at her, blood rushing to his face as the memory of those people—all those people—looking at him came back. They’d seen him, seen his bare face, witnessed his shame without even realizing it for what it was. They’d witnessed his weakness, his failure to live up to his ideals. And the worst part was, he didn’t regret it.

“Beskar has perfect integrity. I don’t. I haven’t lived up to my own beliefs—my own standards,” he said.

“Beskar only has perfect integrity because it has gone through that refining process,” Ahsoka countered. “We all struggle and sometimes fail to live up to the vision we have for ourselves. But over time, after failing and continuing to move on, we eventually become fully refined.”

“Who told you what happened?” Din asked sharply, anger returned. “How do you know this?”

Ahsoka shook her head. “I don’t know what happened. I have no idea what you did that has you so upset, but I recognize the pain. It’s one that I’ve felt myself, many times.”

“What would you know about The Way?”

“I left the Jedi Order long ago,” Ahsoka said, her eyes gaining a faraway look. “For many years I thought that meant that path had closed to me forever. Then I realized that my mistakes didn’t change what I believed in. That I could step back on the path—that I shouldn’t throw away the beskar halfway through the refining process.”

She handed the pauldron back to Din and he took it, looking down at his helmet reflected in the metal surface. His eyes sought the spot he’d been trying to rub out before, but they searched and searched and found nothing there.

“It’s gone…”

“You’re in the fires now. It’s painful, but it will pass, and you’ll be stronger.”

“You can’t know that,” Din said, looking up from the pauldron and into her striking blue eyes, begging her to prove him wrong.

Ahsoka shook her head. “Look, your way and my way are different—I’m not trying to convince you to believe anything. I’m just telling you that if it’s what you believe, you should stick to it. Don’t let external forces keep you from what you think is right.”

Din closed his eyes, fingers tightening around the cool metal of the pauldron, and asked himself if he felt he’d done the right thing when he’d taken off his helmet. He concentrated, forcing himself to relive those awful moments. Painful as they were, he could find no fault in them. He believed in The Way, and he believed in his Clan, but he would protect his Clan above all else. That was His Way.

He opened his eyes and, forcing himself not to check for the phantom stain by his signet, put his pauldron back on his shoulder. Wearing his full suit of beskar armor again, he felt more himself. He’d keep to The Way as best he could, and he’d protect his son.

“How does the fire feel?” Ahsoka asked, her smile knowing.

Din nodded to her, his jaw set behind the helmet. “Good.”

[vihola]

Jarai Ijaa, Mando Sith, traitor to her species

I share custody of this child with @sunsetofdoom

Jarai’s story starts long before she is born. A Mandalorian family fights not because they must but because it’s a challenge and their enemy is fierce. But instead of trophies they find an infant, now an orphan. They don’t feel guilty for killing the baby’s parents, but they take her in as their own out of respect for the enemies who gave them a hell of a fight. They name her Dinui, and they raise her to be a warrior.

Dinui doesn’t mind that she’s the only Cathar in her clan. She doesn’t care about her species at all because they’re not the ones who raised her. When she meets other Cathar for the first time, they look at her armor and spit at her feet ― how dare she side with those who have caused her species so much grief! Dinui doesn’t really understand their indignation, nor does she understand them and their ways.

She doesn’t even recognize a mate bond for what it is when she falls in love with a man who doesn’t belong among her people. Her mate grows uncomfortable with her being a Mandalorian, eventually he tries to convince her to leave. It hurts, but it’s not much of a dilemma for Dinui. She walks away and never looks back. She keeps a child from this failed relationship, hoping that at least she is going to have someone to love. 

Dinui names her daughter Jarai. When Jarai is still small, Dinui’s adoptive parents die, giving her all the more reason to cling to her child. Dinui builds her life around Jarai, pours all of her love into her, but she doesn’t get much out of it. She has the worst luck in the galaxy because Jarai turns out to be Force-sensitive. 

Jarai learns to hide her abilities, but she never forgets that she doesn’t belong in her own clan. If she is ever discovered, it won’t matter that she was raised as a true Mandalorian, that she has proven herself worthy of wearing beskar. And she can’t stop feeling like her mother is blaming her for being Force-sensitive as Dinui grows bitter and cold.

Jarai lives in the constant anticipation of shame until a Sith Lord crosses her path. Seidala Vargas is unlike other Sith she has met so far. Seidala is disciplined, honorable, honest. Dinui scrutinizes this stranger for some time and then gives Jarai to her like a piece of property. “Take her,” Dinui pleads, “Teach her.” And Jarai’s fate is decided in a few moments of hesitation. 

Jarai goes along simply because she doesn’t see a better option. Yes, she can be a Sith apprentice if she must, but she won’t exchange her armor for Sith robes. Of course, she can respect her Master, but she would rather recite the Mandalorian Code of Honor than the strange new Sith code. She can learn to fight with a lightsaber, but she doesn’t want power. She has just found a different way to be a warrior.  

[avarkriss]

Mine

Established Din x Reader Drabble

Rated: M for Mature (18+ only)

Word Count: 800

Summary: you and Din have been together for some time now, and he wants the whole universe to know who his girl is 

Warnings: established consensual D/S relationship, collaring, complete and utter disregard for canon (this is probably pre-Child honestly idek) 

An anon request from the Prompt List:  Would you write some smut with reader wearing a collar, maybe for the first time? (Doesn't even have to be actual smut tbh, just him putting a collar on her is the main thing).  Dialogue prompt wise I thought “Absolutely exquisite” would be perfect.  And honestly i don't even mind which Pedro character but mayybe din? 

Author's Note: Alright fam, I had to do a bit of research myself to write this but I've said it once and I'll say it again, this is a consensual kink friendly blog and I use warnings for a reason - if this isn't your jam, ya don't gotta read it. There's no shame in liking what you like, and if you have questions or want to explore, this is a safe place to ask;; do not let me catch you coming at this anon. That being said, please heed all warnings and if this isn't your style, just scroll past; don't click the read more. Nothing but love here; be well ~

Din sat in front of the Armorer as she worked, watching as she carefully crafted more Whistling Birds from this past load of beskar he earned. It was a hard quarry but it was worth the prize.

He had been thinking of it for a while now; the way you made him feel proud and strong. The way he made you feel safe and cared for. The only thing he couldn't stand, however, was everyone's eyes falling on you when you went out into markets or taverns. The way eyes that weren’t his would travel along your body and soak in your curves; his curves. 

You were faithful to each other and he had no reason not to trust you...it was other people he took issue against. He'd never ask you to stay behind on a mission, you were his trusted co-pilot and quite handy with a blaster, and he respected that you didn't want him to fight alone unless absolutely necessary. 

So when he came to the Armorer this time he asked for three things: a new set of Whistling Birds, twelve small beskar beads, and for everything else to sponsor the foundlings. The Armorer regarded him curiously for a few moments but didn't ask any questions, turning to the forge to work. When her task was complete she helped install the new set of Birds before handing him a small bag with the beads. "Thank you," he said tightly, before turning to leave. 

When he reached street level he went to a trusted artisan, placing his request. He selected a small, red, Heart of Fire stone and a few chips of chrysopaz and slid the artisan a stack of credits, providing your measurement. As he began to walk back to the ship you caught sight of him and ran to catch up, falling in a quick step next to him, arms laden with supplies and food. He didn't like letting you go alone, but to surprise you, it was necessary. 

"Let me help you," he said, taking more than half of the burden from your arms. "Thank you," you said, giving him a sweet smile. "I didn't realize you were close or I would have met you sooner," he said, tilting his helmet towards you. "'S okay, I'm strong," you said, lifting the rest of the bags to prove your point. "I know you are, sweetness," he laughed as you ran ahead of him, "I know."

-

The next morning you were sitting at the small table sipping your morning stim tea when Din hopped down from the cockpit. 

"I have to run into town for a quick errand and I'll be back. I won't be gone long if you want to stay and finish your breakfast," he said, noticing your half eaten bread next to your steaming mug of tea that had become tradition before starting any long flight. "Sure Din, thank you," you said, reaching out to squeeze his hand in yours before he made his way out of the Crest. 

When Din returned he climbed into the cockpit and started doing his pre-flight checks, with you right beside him. He wanted to wait until he was in hyperspace, where it was quiet and the light streaked above him; your favorite place to be. When he finally made the jump he relaxed and sat back in his chair, swiveling to face you. “Come here sweetness,” he said, patting his thigh. You got up and sat in his lap, sweetly looking into his visor. 

“I have something for you, if you’d like it.” You quickly nodded yes, Din was always spoiling you with little trinkets from your adventures with him; how he did, you’d never been able to figure out. What he pulled out from under the dashboard, however, was no little trinket and it took your breath away. “Din, is that-” you breathed gently. “Yes,” he said, running his thumb over the delicate necklace; the collar. 

It was woven with a delicate material like black lace, small silver beskar beads and golden chrysopaz evenly spaced throughout the piece with the red Heart of Fire in the middle, the red so dark it looked like it was thrumming with life under the fleeting stars. “It’s beautiful,” you whispered. He gently fastened it behind the back of your neck, beaming under his visor. "Absolutely exquisite. How are you feeling, cyare?” 

“Happy,” you said, eyes shining as you lifted your hand to the red stone. “Like the whole universe will know that I’m yours. Safe and protected. Loved infinitely.” 

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you,” he breathed so quietly that if you hadn’t been resting your head on his helmet, you never would have heard him.

[can-of-pringles]

When Mandos Meet

Rating: Gen

Word count: 1098

Summary:  Din and Grogu meet Van, another Mandalorian traveling the galaxy. By their side is their adopted sister Eleri.

Note: This is kinda a little drabble I wrote of characters meeting. Also, this takes place sometime after Din meets Bo-Katan.

Also read on AO3

Din saw a glimpse of a Mandalorian helmet other than his, he realized he couldn’t lose it. Din followed. He struggled to not lose them in the crowd.

“Hey wait!” Din shouted. Hoping that they’d hear him.

The crowd split and Din saw the other Mandalorian. Another person walked close to them. Most likely a youngling.

“Excuse me,” Din said.

They turned around to glance at him. They wore dark grey Mandalorian armor. The top of the helmet was a purple stripe. Brown fur draped around their shoulders. In their fist, they carried what looked to be a combo of a spear and a beskar staff.

“Eleri, norac ” back. They said.

“But Van, I can take care of myself!” Eleri argued.

“Listen to me” Van spoke. Voice lowered in tone. They held their staff in self-defense.

Understanding the situation, Eleri hid behind them. She peeked out to stare.

“Explain yourself,” Van commanded.

“Are you a Mandalorian?” Din asked.

“Yes. What of it?” They asked coldly. Though the stranger was wearing Mandalorian armor, Van didn’t know if they could trust Din. Van held their breath and their shoulders tensed. Preparing for a fight.

“I am a Mandalorian too. I mean you and your youngling no harm.” He held his hands up to show he wasn’t a threat.

While Din was talking, Grogu peeked his head out of the bag he was being carried in.

“Aw, they’re so cute!” Eleri spoke up, trying to get a closer look at Grogu.

Van held out their arm in front of Eleri, signaling to stand close. The girl frowned but obeyed.

“Repeating what I stated, yes, I am a Mandalorian. My people were Mandalorians.” Van explained. Their posture changed, though guarded but not as tense.

“It would be good if we could talk further. I’ve been seeking to find more Mandalorians, but it hasn’t been easy,” Din said.

“Van? Sorry to interrupt but I’m hungry so if we stay to talk to this guy can we go to a restaurant?” Eleri whispered.

Van looked down and murmured to her. “Let me finish speaking to him and I’ll see what I can do,”

“If you want to continue talking, how about we go elsewhere and get drinks and food? A meal for the kids and a chat between us.” Van suggested.

Din thought it over for a second. “Okay.” He agreed.

Van nodded.

“Yes!” Eleri whispered to herself.

<>

They all sat down at a table at a local restaurant. The place had enough space, but with two Mandalorians in one place, several people were looking at them.

Van noticed the stares from across the room. They looked around and everybody got the hint to quit staring and settle down.

“Can I have some of this soup?” Eleri looked up from the menu she had in her hands.

“Alright, but as a snack. It’s almost suppertime and I don’t want you to spoil your appetite,” Van replied.

“Thank you, Van” She grinned.

“I’ll probably get the same thing for him,” Din looked over to Grogu.

Grogu glanced up from a piece of paper he scribbled on and giggled.

A little while later, the food and drinks for the kids had arrived. Eleri and Grogu happily ate their meals.

“I don’t think I properly introduced myself. I’m Van,” Van announced.

“Call me Mando” Din replied.

“It’s nice to meet you. I haven’t met many other Mandalorians before.” Van said.

“Have you met Bo-Katan and her… team?” Din asked. He sighed. Already feeling annoyed just by thinking about Bo-Katan and her little gang of Mandalorians.

“Yes. She and her group weren’t the most... friendliest. But I suppose I admire their commitment for working to get their planet back.” Van responded.

Din nodded.

“Her whole lecture about who is a Mandalorian and who isn’t is certainly annoying. And the rude remarks I got about my clan and family.” Van ranted.

“Family?” He asked.

“My parents were both raised as Mandalorians. I grew up to be a Mandalorian too. We were our own small clan because our original clan is.. gone,” They sighed.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Din said after a minute of silence.

“Thank you,” Van continued. “I was on my own for a good while. Until I met this womp rat.” They pointed at Eleri.

Eleri finished a bite of soup and glanced up. “Hi! I’m Eleri. Who’s your little friend?”

“Oh. His name is Grogu.” Din said.

“That’s an awesome name! Where are you from? Why is your armor so silver? How do you keep it so shiny? I haven’t met many Mandalorians besides Van.” She rambled.

“Eleri. I understand you’re excited, but please easy on the questions. Try to finish your soup.” Van scolded mildly.

Eleri took a breath. “Yes, Van.” She started back on her soup. “Sorry sir, I didn’t mean to startle you with so many questions.”

“It’s ok, I’m just not much of a talker sometimes,” Din said.

<>

“So, I know this is personal, but what is your creed? If you don’t mind my asking,” Van asked.

“Are you going to shame me and my creed? Because I’m a ‘child of the watch’ or whatever Bo-Katan called it?” he crossed his arms.

“She did that? Oh, who am I kidding, of course she did. No! I would never do that. We Mandalorians need to stick together. Not shame each other for our creeds. Every Mandalorian’s creed is personal to them. It doesn’t make them any less of a Mandalorian.” They said.

“I.. agree. It took me a while to see that, but you’re right.” Din replied.

“For me, mine’s more of a familial code. I don’t take off my helmet in front of strangers. I only take it off in front of deeply trusted family members and friends. And if there’s an extreme medical emergency, then I allow medical professionals to see my face.” Van explained.

“That makes sense and I respect that,” Din said.

“Thank you”

“For me, it used to be this one strict way, but after deep thinking I’m honestly not sure anymore. But I’ve always kept my face covered in front of others. The only exception would be my clan, just me, and my son, Grogu. I’m on a quest to return him to his kind.”

“Oh, well, I wish you the best of luck for your quest.” Van shook his hand.

“Thank you, I appreciate it. We should keep in touch. It’s good to have more friends around.” Din smiled underneath his helmet.

“Yeah, of course. Call me if you ever need any help.” Van offered.

[lloydskywalkers]

a complicated profession

Chapter One

This is one of the longest, most self-indulgent fics I’ve written in a while and it is entirely @ninjawhoa‘s fault (and i mean that in the best way possible but u know). So the full inspiration for Kai and Nya as Mandalorians goes to them <3

Honestly the best way I can summarize this is to explain that I started it out saying “lol there’s no way I’m gonna write Lloyd as baby yoda”. then 11k words later. Lloyd as baby yoda. 

(while you don’t technically need to have watched the mandalorian to understand this, it will kinda help and you’ll probably guess who Cole’s gonna be. plus it’s just a Good Show in general, so u should watch it)

Kai’s not a heartless person, despite what some people might say.

But he’s not the kind of person that keeps many regrets, either. In his line of work, he can’t afford to be. Mandalorians aren’t known for their expressiveness in the first place, and the helmet has long hidden any grimace he might make at his and Nya’s less…savory jobs. But he’ll never show it otherwise, because they are Mandalorian, which means they’re the best of warriors or bounty hunters to be had, and you don’t become the best by regretting who you blast in the back and who you freeze in carbonite this week.

But there are some things — a precious few — that he does regret, and he does hold on to. And one of the more current, glaring ones is that he really should have pressed for more information on their target this time.

Specifically in regards to its age.

“I thought they said it would be forty-six years old,” he says blankly, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. For a moment, he’s glad that Nya’s still outside, covering him where he’s snuck in to the compound with the assassin droid. Because while the droid can’t tell that Kai’s gobsmacked, Nya absolutely could, and she’d never let him live it down.

The target stares up at him where it’s hidden itself beneath an old weapons rack, its eyes wide and curious on his helmet. It’s definitely their target, no question — Kai’s tracker hasn’t stopped going nuts since he got this close to it — but it’s also definitely not forty-six years old.

It’s a kid. No older than six, at most — a human boy, from appearance, but the red eyes staring back at him lead Kai to believe their target’s a lot more than just some human. That and the obscene bounty that’s sitting on it, and the ridiculous amount of guards they had to fight through to get this far.

The assassin droid takes a jerking step forward, the gear on the left side of its face glowing dark red, and the child curls back, the first movement Kai’s seen it make — though he can’t really blame it, after the shootout they’ve had right outside the door. It doesn’t speak, either, just continues to stare at him with those wide, crimson eyes, as if Kai’s the most fascinating thing it’s ever seen. Then those eyes flick to the droid, and the gaze turns frightened.

“Four to six,” the assassin droid clarifies, its voice as monotone as ever. “Species unknown.”

“It’s supposed to be older.” Kai knows his voice is too quiet, too young. He doesn’t sound as old as he’s pretending to be.

“A shame, that it will never be,” the droid clicks. “But its life ends here.”

The droid brings its blaster up, and the kid’s eyes clench shut. Kai’s moving before he can think, shoving the droid’s arm so the blaster isn’t trained on the kid.

“I’m supposed to bring it back alive,” he hisses.

“And I am supposed to bring it back dead,” the droid replies blandly, it’s glowing eyes staring at Kai’s helmet. “Step aside. It will yield less trouble for everyone this way.”

Kai stares at the droid, revulsion twisting in his gut. He hates droids.

But he also knows that this is an assassin droid for a reason, and that it’s proven a valuable ally as it is.

The droid pulls away, its blaster clicking back on. Kai turns back to the kid, all frightened eyes beneath its mop of golden hair.

The blaster levels with the kid’s head, and the fear turns to resignation. Kai knows that look.

For an awful half second, he sees another child huddled before him, another child alone in the world, tear-stained and hopeless and lost.

There’s a click of a trigger, and blaster fire flashes bright across the room.

***********************************

Nya’s just finished cleaning up the last of the stragglers who were guarding the compound by the time her brother finally emerges from it, scraping dark stains from the edge of her weapons with the gritty sand that drowns this planet. She scowls — she hates desert planets on a good day, because the sand gets all in the cracks of her armor and wears down the gears on their ship, but sand will always soak up blood better than anything else will.

She frowns at the bodies that litter the sand around them, scrubbing a hand over the plating of her helmet. They’ve gone through an awful lot of trouble for this job, more so than usual. Ronin wasn’t kidding when he said their client made a steep demand.

It had better be worth it, she thinks, as the familiar sound of her brother’s boots draws nearer. She blinks as he steps out of the compound, the absence of the CRY-11 droid he went in with painfully noticeable. Maybe there was a disagreement on who got the bounty…? The question is on her lips, when she finally catches sight of what’s in his arms.

Nya stares. Her brother is not dragging a struggling target to them. Her brother is holding a baby, the thing tucked close in his arms. Well — not a baby, exactly, if it’s big enough to cling to Kai’s armor like that, but — it’s a tiny kid.

“What is that,” she asks, her voice slow and measured through her helmet.

Kai tightens his grip on the shivering kid, who’s yet to unfurl his fingers where they grip tightly around his breastplate, face pressed into his shoulder. He’s silent for a beat, and the quiet feels loud, surrounding the two of them and the kid and the piles of dead bodies around them.

“Our payday,” Kai finally says, sounding eternally exhausted.

***********************************

It was supposed to be a simple target, if a difficult one.

Sure, their client was Imperial — or ex-Imperial, though either way is just as bad, in Kai’s opinion — but the guy was straightforward enough. A bit saccharine, a lot creepy, but clearly eager to pay for a target. And the payment — Kai hasn’t seen that much Beskar steel since their father’s smithy, and the prospect of winning at least some of it back, at least some of what the Empire took from their people, was too much to turn down (even if it did mean working with Imperials).

Not that he and Nya had been planning on turning him down in the first place. The downside about being the best bounty hunters on this side of the galaxy is that, eventually, they run out of targets that’ll earn them money. They’ve cleaned out all Ronin’s best offers, and they’d needed more.

It’s how they got this target. Not favoritism from Ronin — no matter what the other Hunter’s Guild members say — because as their planet’s head of local bounty headers, favoritism isn’t something he can afford showing. No, Kai and Nya got this target because they are the best, and they always follow through on a job.

But bounty hunting commissions are a two-way street, and Kai knew they should’ve pressed for more information than just “here’s a tracker, you’ll know the target when you see it”.

Then maybe they wouldn’t have ended up trekking across this awful desert with a kid in tow.

“What would a bunch of Imps want with a kid?” Nya asks again, brushing sand from where it’s collected in the corners of her elbow armor. “He doesn’t seem like he’s worth that much.”

“Tell that to the guard detail they had on ‘im,” Kai mutters, wincing at the new scorch marks on his armor. That steel payment is going to come in handy a lot sooner than he’d thought.

“Well yeah, but…” Nya’s helmet swivels toward the kid, where it’s yet to move from the patch of sand it’s claimed in their campground. It hasn’t said much of anything since Kai took it from the compound, but it hadn’t fought Kai either, so that’s something. Not trust, maybe, but the way the kid stares at them seems curious, which is a lot better than hostile.

Makes it easier for transporting it, and all.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Nya finally huffs, pulling her knees up to her chest, looking very much like the child she is, and a lot less like the callous assassin she’s supposed to be.

“You say that like Imperials have ever made sense,” Kai yawns, stretching his arms. “Look, our job is to bring the kid back, not to ask questions.”

“And to blast Guild assassin droids on the way?” Nya quips, drily.

Kai shrugs, his head tilting down. He wasn’t gonna let the droid just kill the kid. Even if the bounty hadn’t been a part of it, he’s not that heartless.

And he’d known the look in the kid’s eyes.

And he hates droids anyways, so it’s a win all around.

“I wonder what’s so special about him,” Nya murmurs, tilting her head at the child. It shifts under her gaze, almost anxiously.

Kai shrugs again, and turns his head as well. “Hey, kid. What’s your deal?”

He can feel the face Nya’s making at him beneath her helmet, but Kai ignores her, watching the kid intently. The kid stares back, blinking once at him.

Then it turns away, pulling the edge of Kai’s lent cloak tighter around its shoulders, and says nothing.

Kai bites back a sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s expecting anything more. It’s not like every quarry’s supposed to be jumping for conversation at being used as bounty. Heck, he doesn’t even know if the kid can talk. Or if it does, maybe it’s the wrong language…?

Kai doesn’t know why he’s trying to care.

“Eloquent as always,” Nya snorts. Kai throws her a gesture, and Nya retaliates by kicking sand up on him as she stands. “I’m gonna head back to the ship,” she says, shouldering her weapons. “Need to make sure nothing’s scrapped it yet. I’ve seen too many Jawas running around here.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kai smirks. “Checking back in with Jay while you’re at it wouldn’t happen to part of the plan, would it?”

Nya’s foot connects with his side this time, and Kai cackles instead of sweeping her leg out from under her. Nya’s helmet shakes side to side, and Kai can picture the blush she’s sporting beneath it.

“You are going to check back in with Jay,” she huffs. “We’ve still gotta thank him for helping us out, and the kid probably needs to eat eventually.”

“There’s always frogs,” Kai mutters.

“You are not letting him try and swallow a frog whole again,” Nya snaps, clearly not over the earlier incident, in which the kid had revealed a set of unnaturally sharp teeth, apparently trying to snack on one of the planet’s tiny amphibians.

“Maybe it’s naturally carnivorous, like the Togruta,” Kai shoots back. Nya crosses her arms. Kai crosses his.

The debate between calling the kid him or it has been ongoing since they left the compound, but Kai’s not budging. If you give your target humanity, you start to get in trouble.

“I’ll meet you at Jay’s, then,” he finally relents. “Be back before morning, alright?”

Nya makes a sound of amusement, the dying sunlight flashing off her helmet as she shakes it. She knocks armored knuckles against his own helmet, sending mild reverberations around Kai’s skull.

“I’ll be back when I’m back,” she says, but he catches the undercurrent of a promise in her voice. She turns away, her helmet tilting toward the kid where he sits unmoving, still silent. Her hand twitches, and for a moment, it looks like she’s about to reach a hand to ruffle his tangled hair.

Her hand finally goes loose, hanging limply by her side, and her helmet dips.

“Take care of the kid, okay?”

Kai nods. He almost scoffs, makes a comment — they won’t get paid for a dead kid.

But somehow, he knows that thought isn’t what makes her say it.

***********************************

Kai didn’t always live his life under a helmet. Probably wouldn’t have chosen too, necessarily, if given the choice — he’s got some pretty great hair, he likes to think, and perpetually hiding it is a tragedy in and of itself — but, that is to say, he’s not complaining.

Living with his head beneath a helmet is better than the alternative, which Nya always jokes would be living without a head at all.

Kai’s lips curl into a half-grin behind the helmet, in the way he only does when Nya jokes. It’s a half-truth; they both know that had the Mandalorians not seen to take them on as Foundlings, had they not swooped in at the last moment to rain blaster fire on the battle droids, then well…

Well. The little that would be left of them would likely be scattered in the streets with their parents.

The half-smile has now long since disappeared from Kai’s face, but no one could tell. Nya could, probably — she has a way of knowing him like that, just as he does her, exactly what face he’s making behind the helmet — but she’s not here now.

There’s a shuffling noise beside him, and Kai is abruptly reminded at what is here with him.

…alright, calling the kid a what does feel like too much. He should give it who, at least. The kid’s quiet, but there’s enough sentience, and enough expression in its eyes to communicate that its…well, a person.

A bounty, Kai reminds himself. A quarry. At the end of the day, the kid’ll be in someone else’s hands, and Kai’s own hands will be full of well-earned payment. It won’t do to go getting attached, or anything so blatantly stupid. Kai hasn’t gotten this far on sentiment.

The kid keeps staring at him with those eyes, the odd red glinting in the dying sun as it trudges beside him. Not for the first time, Kai wonders what, exactly, type of being the kid even is. It looks human, certainly. Its hair’s gold enough to pass for the Mandalorian royalty of the old Republic, and the teeth could be attributed to mixed blood. The eyes, too.

But the price on its head, for a simple human? Not likely.

Kai glances back at the kid, and is hit with an unpleasant jolt when he realizes it’s no longer by his side. There’s a brief moment of panic before Kai finds it, trailing just behind him, a scowl on its face as it trudges through the thickening sand.

It’s more expression than Kai’s seen on the kid all day, and it almost makes him laugh.

“Having some trouble, there?” he asks, watching the kid struggle up the sandbank in amusement.

The kid looks up, red eyes narrowing, and — “Slow.”

Kai blinks rapidly. He’s been about ninety-nine percent sure the kid can’t talk. So the quiet voice that suddenly comes from it is enough to give him pause, for a moment.

“So you do talk,” he manages. “Wanna tell me what you are?”

The kid finally reaches him, puffing its cheeks out as it breathes heavily, looking exhausted. It probably is, with the pace Kai’s been driving them at.

He doesn’t feel a pang of guilt at that, he tells himself.

The kid blows a breath out. “Slow,” it says again, voice dull.

Kai snorts in spite of himself. “You are slow, huh.”

The kid glares at him. Kai shakes his head, then steps forward, scooping the kid up and settling it on his back, like he used to with Nya when she was younger. The kid goes rigid for a beat, then Kai feels tiny fingers digging into the grooves of his armor, clinging tightly.

“Don’t get used to this,” Kai warns, as he continues to make his way across the barren wasteland. “It’s a one-time thing.”

The kid says nothing, but Kai wasn’t expecting anything, either.

***********************************

Nya’s already made it back to Jay’s outpost by the time Kai and the kid reach it, and judging by her irritated posture, their ship probably has been scrapped. That or Jay’s said something incredibly stupid again, which wouldn’t be unusual, but Nya normally finds Jay’s stupid to be funny, as opposed to…whatever’s put her in a mood.

Kai, on the other hand, does not find it funny, like how Jay laughs for a full ten minutes when he catches sight of the kid. He’s more tempted to slug him in the jaw, or something, because that’s Kai’s approach to almost everything that annoys him.

“This?” Jay says between snickers, as he stares at the kid. “This is what’s been tearing the planet apart?”

The kid’s been shifted back to his hip by now, and it hides its face in Kai’s armor, shrinking away from Jay. Something in the gesture makes Kai’s chest feels weird, so he glares at Jay instead, before remembering that Jay can’t see it.

“Apparently,” Nya answers for him, her voice weary. “It’s not exactly our usual bounty.”

“I’ll say,” Jay snorts, laughter still in his voice. He tilts his head, studying the kid with his bright eyes. Kai lets him inch closer, reluctantly. Jay’s loud and obnoxious, but he’s also one of the cleverest people Kai and Nya know in their corner of the galaxy. Normally, he’s just their repair guy — no one knows ships like Jay, whether they’re in the sky or on the ground, and he hasn’t gained a reputation as an ace pilot for nothing.

Why he’s chosen to stake out here, with the other best mechanic on this side of the galaxy, is still a mystery to Kai, but he’s one of the closest things they have to a friend, and at the end of the day, Kai does trust him.

“Yeah, I got no idea what he is,” Jay finally says, stepping back and running an oil-stained hand through his auburn hair. His mouth quirks up. “Hey, maybe he’s a Sith. Y’know, with the eyes?”

“Like the wizard people?” Nya says, her voice twisting, as if she’s wrinkling her mouth.

Jay rolls his eyes. “Sure, the wizard people. Geez, this galaxy forgets everything—” he cuts off, as if feeling the gazes he’s getting from behind both helmets. “I’m joking. Sith eyes are yellow. I’d guess he’s a mixed human, if anything.”

“It’s worth a lot, that’s what’s important,” Kai grouses.

Jay blinks, staring at the kid again.

“You’re seriously delivering a kid as a bounty?” he finally asks. His voice is even, guarded, but Kai doesn’t have to look far to find the carefully censored judgement in his voice.

“Well, the Imps want ‘im, and you know how they are when they don’t get what they want,” Kai says, sharply.

Jay’s smile disappears. Nya’s helmet swivels toward him, and Kai bites his tongue, mentally cursing himself.

Jay might be the loudest chatterbox he’s met in the galaxy, so it’s easy to forget sometimes. It’s not easy to forget why they come to him so often, because again, no one knows ships like Jay and no one does repairs like Jay, but it’s easy to forget where he comes from.

But the scars are there, hidden behind the sleeves of the blue jacket he always wears, and if Kai looks hard enough, he might even be able to decipher the Imperial brand beneath the mess of scarring Jay’s made over it.

Jay might have made it out, but Imperial slavery isn’t something you just walk off. Especially not when it’s taken both your home planet and your parents.

Jay’s bright eyes shutter, darkening at the mention. Kai wants to kick himself. He wishes Zane were here, like he often is to help with repairs — he’s always better at talking to Zane. Probably because Zane is a whole lot quieter, and doesn’t try so hard to make him talk back.

He’s saved by the kid lifting its head, red eyes watching Jay with an undecipherable expression. Jay shifts, a bit uncomfortably, and Kai gets it. The kid’s eyes feel a bit like the ocean — there’s too much in that gaze, and if you look too deep, you’ll end up lost.

Or maybe Kai’s just being dramatic again. He’s been told he does that a lot.

So maybe he’s too busy being dramatic to miss what happens next, but the next thing he knows the kid has suddenly reached out and has one little hand on Jay’s arm, like it’s trying to comfort him. Or maybe it’s gotten fed up of the way Jay squints at it, and it’s finally decided to try and shut him up, but—

Nope, Jay’s eyes are going the kind of watery that mean the kid’s done something right.

He gives a ragged breath, patting the kid’s hand before pulling away. “Cute kid,” he says, flashing a brief smile. He shakes his head, and something like regret crosses his face before he speaks again. “Alright. Let’s get your ship back together, so you can get out of my hair already.”

***********************************

As it turns out, their ship has been scrapped by Jawas while they were gone after all — typical — and that’s why Zane’s been missing.

“I managed to track them until they stopped,” he says, brushing crusted sand from his hair as he dismounts the speeder. The kid eyes him curiously from behind Kai, where it’s taken to standing most of the time. Kai’s pretty sure that it likes Jay, and it definitely likes Nya, but for some reason it’s picked Kai to stick to like a barnacle.

Persistent little brat.

“Did you take care of them, then?” Kai asks, carefully maneuvering the kid out of his path with his boot as he re-shoulders his weapon.

Zane gives him a blisteringly dry look, and despite the helmet Kai feels his cheeks heat.

“If by that you mean, ‘did I murder them all’, then no, I did not take care of them,” Zane sighs. “I did, however, manage to bargain with them, if you’re up for the task.”

“We’re up for any task,” Kai says hotly. “It’d just be a lot easier if we—“

“Shut up and listened to Zane, who’s been very helpful,” Nya interrupts him. Kai’s helmet swivels to her incredulously, and Jay snorts. Kai finally crosses his arms, slumping down on one of the radiators with a scowl. He glances to the kid, who’s decided to settle on his left, his own arms crossed in imitation of Kai’s.

It’s almost enough to lift his mood.

“Can you believe this, kid,” he mutters instead. “Sold out by my own sister.”

“I didn’t sell you out,” Nya huffs. “I’m trying to get us our ship back. What’s the bargain, Zane?”

Zane purses his lips, suddenly looking a bit hesitant. “Well, that’s the difficult part,” he says. “You could pay them in credits—“

“Imperial?” Kai asks.

“New Republic,” Zane replies. Nya mutters a curse.

Kai exhales wearily. “And the other option?”

Zane winces. “There’s a Krayt Dragon egg,” he begins.

He doesn’t need to finish. Kai knows what that look on his face means, even if he knows little else about Zane.

While Kai and Nya know Jay’s past well enough, Zane’s is a mystery. Maybe it’s just because he’s quieter than Jay, and a lot less likely to blurt out his entire backstory after one glass of Corellian whiskey, but the most Kai’s ever been able to pick up about Zane’s past is that he doesn’t like talking about it. He was with the Rebel Alliance at some point, though he’s quiet about his experience in it, and it lead him to Jay, who he’s stuck with ever since. The two are formidable mechanics and crackshot pilots, and combined they’re solid allies to have on your side.

Except, of course, when they suggest tackling Krayt Dragons as means to win back their ship parts.

“No way,” Nya says. “Nuh-uh. We’d like to come out of this one alive, thanks.”

“Yeah, no offense, but that armor’s seen better days,” Jay says, looking pointedly at Kai. “I don’t think they’d be here to claim the ship parts after that, Zane.”

Kai’s common sense evaporates, as it tends to do when literally anyone underestimates him.

“Excuse me, we’re not the best bounty hunters on this side of the galaxy for nothing,” he snaps, glaring at Jay. “Armor or not. Some of us don’t need fancy tools to get the job done.”

Jay’s mouth screws up. “I literally make fancy tools for you to get the job done with on a weekly basis—“

“Zane,” Kai says, studiously ignoring Jay, who doesn’t know what he’s talking about at all, clearly. “Did they give you coordinates?”

Nya makes a muffled sound of agony, and the kid glances up at him curiously. The edge of Zane’s mouth tilts up, as if he’d known Kai would be on board from the very start.

“You won’t need them,” he says. “The sound will be enough.”

***********************************

The sound is enough. More than enough, in fact, Kai thinks, gritting his teeth as the Krayt Dragon’s screech reverberates through his helmet.

“Kai, get up!”

Nya’s screech of terror almost rivals it though, the panic in her voice triggering a rush of adrenaline in Kai’s battered body. He forces himself to roll just in time, the dragon’s sharp claws sinking into the sand where his head had been. Kai’s armor clanks as he moves, scrambling wildly to his feet, and he bites back a curse. It pains him to admit it — in more ways than one — but Jay was right. They’re going to need to put that Beskar steel right toward new armor, if they survive long enough to actually get their payment.

“Why won’t this thing go down!” Nya grunts, one of her curved knives flashing as the dragon’s tail sends it flying.

“Hit it with the flamethrower again!” Kai calls, fiddling with the controls on his own. He’s regretting having used his own flamethrower as much as he has — his fuel stores are dangerously low.

“Why is that your answer to everything!” Nya snaps, which may have less to do with irritation toward him than it does the dragon that just tried to eat her left leg. “It’s a dragon, this thing won’t burn, idiot!”

It hasn’t met me yet, Kai wants to bite back, but he’s forced to shut his mouth as his next shot goes ricocheting off the dragon’s skin, just before it bowls him over.

“Kai!”

Nya’s scream of visceral horror bounces around his battered brain as the dragon tries its best to trample him, Kai desperately flailing as he tries to stay alive. One of its legs hits his chest, and there’s an ominous crackling sound as he shrieks, fighting back tears of pain. Razor-sharp, dripping teeth flash in his vision, and Kai prepares to shut his eyes even as his brain kicks into overdrive.

He can’t die now, he can’t, he promised, Nya—

Then — relief, blessed relief as he can breathe again. Kai doesn’t dare to hope, but a beat passes. Then another, and another, and there’s no awful sensation of teeth tearing into him. Nya’s gone quiet. Kai frowns, then carefully lifts the arm he’s flung over his face, blinking.

He immediately wishes he’d kept his eyes shut, because that would make this whole thing much easier to explain.

Kai gapes open-mouthed at the Krayt Dragon where it flails mid-air, held hovering by some unseen force as it struggles. Nya’s dropped both her weapons, her arms swinging limply where she stares at the scene as well. Kai’s about to start questioning his sanity, when there’s a small grunting noise from beside him, and he turns.

Oh, that doesn’t help, either.

The kid’s got one arm outstretched toward the dragon, his eyes furrowed and his mouth all set and strained. His arm tremors, and the dragon wavers mid-air, before the kid catches himself, making a face and concentrating. The dragon’s limbs go stiff, as if held by invisible ropes, and it gives a screech of frustration, claws scratching uselessly at the air.

Kai begins questioning his sanity.

Maybe I am dead, he thinks, hazily.

“What,” Nya says, sounding utterly flabbergasted. “The hell.”

“He’s gotta be one of them,” she insists, after they’ve traded the Jawas their disgusting dragon egg for their ship parts. (They’ve left the dragon alive, if worse for wear, which was a lot more than it deserved, if you asked Kai.)

“Those — those wizard people Jay was talking about, y’know?” Nya continues eagerly. “I heard they were supposed to have crazy powers like that, mind stuff and levitation and — and he’s gotta be one of them.”

“What, a Jedi?” Kai scoffs, his eyes straying to kid where he’s slumped in his arms, solidly out for the count after the stunt he’d pulled. “Yeah, and I’m the prince of Naboo. The Jedi are dead, Nya.”

“No, they aren’t,” she says stubbornly, and Kai can imagine her lip sticking out. “There’s that Rebellion hero, the pilot? He’s a Jedi.”

“That’s a legend they made up to get people to join, Nya.”

“Then how do you explain him?” Nya finally says, throwing her arms out and gesturing. The kid’s eyes drag open blearily, and he stares at her in sleepy confusion. Nya’s arms immediately drop, and she lowers her voice.

“How do you explain what he did back there,” she says, less aggressively this time. “Because you can’t write that off as a legend.”

“I don’t know,” Kai says, for what feels like the hundredth time, and it grates at him. He doesn’t like not knowing things, but this is…beyond the comprehension he’s ever expected to need. “It explains why he’s worth so much, though.”

“I’ll say,” Nya mutters. “It’s ‘cause he’s a Jedi.”

“He’s Jedi bounty then,” Kai says flatly, as they finally reach their ship, still anchored near Jay’s outpost. “The important thing is, we got our parts back. Now let’s get them on.”

“You’re hopeless,” Nya huffs, but she complies, dropping her weapons and grabbing for a welding torch. “I’ll get started, you — no, you sit here with the kid.” She shoves at him, pushing him away from the parts and down onto an open patch of sand. “Jay’ll be out in a bit, and he can help me. You need to rest those ribs.”

“I’m fine,” he protests, but his ribs twinge as he sits, and the kid’s weight hasn’t been helping things. Nya’s helmet gleams in the moonlight as she tilts her head, and Kai can feel her judgement.

“I’m sitting,” he grumbles.

“Good,” Nya says, and he doesn’t miss the flicker of relief in her voice. “Keep the kid safe.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kai sighs, shifting the kid from his arms and setting him down next to him. He gives a breath of laughter, muttering, “Maybe he’ll keep me safe."

The kid doesn’t pipe up, pulling his legs up to his chest as he wraps his arms around them, yawning instead. Kai shakes his head, his eyes drifting to where Nya works on the ship, then back to the kid again. He thinks of the way the kid had held the Krayt Dragon earlier, of the power that might lie in that tiny frame.

“Well, you might not be a Jedi, but  you’re definitely something, short stuff,” Kai sighs, wincing as his shoulder twinges again. He’s not likely to forget how vicious Krayt Dragons can be anytime soon, that’s for—

“Lloyd.”

The kid’s voice is so quiet, Kai almost misses it. He blinks, then turns to the kid.

“What?”

The kid shuffles, then jabs his thumb at his own chest. “Lloyd,” he repeats, firmly. “Name. That’s mine.”

It is, quite possibly, the most Kai has heard the kid say at one time. It’s also surprising, for some reason, that he’s got a name, though it shouldn’t be.

“Lloyd,” he says, running the name over his tongue. It doesn’t sound like a name from anywhere around here. “Where’s that from?”

The kid stares at him, then looks away, one of his shoulders jerking up in a half-shrug much like Kai does.

“Don’t know,” he says, and Kai barely catches the sad little thread of emotion in his voice.

Barely, but it’s there.

Kai bites his lip, grateful, as always, that his expression is hidden from the world. It makes his next gesture much easier to write off as casual — simply draping his cloak over the kid’s shoulders to ward off the cold of the desert night. Nothing more.

The kid’s fingers wrap tightly around the tattered cloak edges, pulling it close, and something in his expression softens. Kai feels unreasonably satisfied with himself.

He’s really not a bad kid, for an unreasonably high-priced bounty, Kai thinks to himself.

And yes, he’s fully aware that he’s switched from it to him, and he knows that this is more than likely going to end in pain, but hey. The kid pretty much just took down a Krayt Dragon to single-handedly to save him.

It’s the least he can give him.

Besides, it’s not like he’s about to start using his name.

***********************************

They get their ship repairs finished in record time. Nya argues that Jay and Zane get their ship repairs done in record time, along with Nya’s help, and Kai had zero contribution whatsoever — but Kai reminds her that he was the one to get trampled by a Krayt Dragon for this, so he’s put in more than his fair share of work, thank you very much.

“All you did was lie there,” Nya huffs, as they rocket through hyperspace. “The kid did more work than you.”

Normally Kai would have a snappy retort to give back, but Nya’s voice sounds dangerously…well, dangerous. There’s been a heavy cloud of gloom hanging over her since they waved goodbye to Jay and Zane, more so than there usually is. And, as much as Kai knows part of it is probably from having to leave Jay behind again, he’s not dumb enough to realize that a lot of Nya’s bad mood has to do with their destination.

It’s not like he’s thrilled about it himself.

He lets her words linger instead, the two of them falling into silence where they sit, pilot and co-pilot as always in their ship. There’s an ongoing argument over who fills what role, but Nya’s in a bad enough mood to let Kai take the lead for today, at least.

It’s a hollow victory. Flying with Nya is one of the few things about this job he enjoys, the two of them racing through the galaxy, untethered by anyone or anything. Set upon by the heavy silence as they are now, though, it’s more depressing than anything.

There’s a quiet rustling, and a mop of bright blond hair pops up at Kai’s side, the kid going up on tip-toes as he strains to peer over the ship controls. His mouth falls open as he catches sight of the blurring blue lights of hyperspace, the streaming lines reflecting in his wide eyes. Nya’s helmet doesn’t move, but Kai knows her eyes are on the kid. He turns his head, letting the kid know his are, as well.

“Never seen space before?” he asks, keeping his tone even.

The kid shakes his head, the lights shifting in his eyes as he does. “Don’t remember,” he murmurs, sounding awestruck.

Kai swallows uncomfortably. The kid looks dazzled, more emotive than he’s been since Kai carried him out from that compound. There’s a sinking part of him that’s trying to figure out what the kid’s gonna look like when Kai hands him over for the bounty, and he needs to go ahead and smother that.

He’ll find out soon enough, anyways.

The kid suddenly moves, a skinny arm reaching out across the controls, and—

“Hey, I need that!” Kai exclaims, as the kid steps back, the ball-like knob from the center stick he’d snatched grasped firmly in his hands. The kid dodges his grasp, prize held tightly to his chest, and Nya gives a muffled snort of laughter.

Kai takes a breath. “Kid—“

The kid ignores him, stepping back to the spare seat he’s been huddled in. He turns the knob over in his hands, eyes curious, before shifting so he’s sitting cross-legged. He then cups his hands around the knob, leaving the little ball to hover mid-air, suspended.

Kai wants to run a hand through his hair. Or hit his head against the flight controls. He does neither, groaning quietly instead.

“We’ve picked up a mutant freak.”

“Be nice,” Nya warns, her helmet still fixed toward the kid. “He might turn his wizard powers on you, next.”

“They’re not called wizards, Nya, they’re called Jedi, and he isn’t one.“

“Maybe he’s a Sith, then.”

“Sith eyes are yellow, Jay said so, his are clearly red.”

“Maybe Jay was wrong, then.”

“Maybe Jay was wrong?” Kai repeats, incredulous. “Glad you’re finally seeing sense, but that’s a new one.”

“Shut up,” Nya mutters, and Kai can clearly picture the dark stain that’s spreading across her cheeks. “He knows more than you do, you — you nerf-herder.”

“Nerf-herder?!” Kai swivels in his chair, pointing a finger toward her. “You watch your mouth, you under-grown womp rat—“

“I will curse you out in Huttese—“

The tiniest of sounds cuts through their argument, soft and light. Kai blinks rapidly, turning as Nya does to stare at the kid, who’s exhaling on the end of a giggle, hand over his mouth and his eyes bright. The smile fades at their attention, and he ducks his head — but there’s still that edge of happiness in his expression, the slight turn at the corners of his mouth.

“…he laughed at us,” Nya says, blankly.

“Well,” Kai says, willing his voice to sound light and failing completely. “We’re funny people.”

Nya says nothing in reply, but Kai can feel her stare on him through his helmet. The kid makes a quiet humming noise, turning the little knob over in his hands again. Kai sets his jaw, then snatches the knob away from the kid.

“S’not a toy,” he says at the kid’s wounded expression, twisting the knob back in place. He doesn’t look pleased with this answer, but the kid doesn’t put up an argument either, sinking back in his seat and pulling his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he stares out at the streaking stars.

Nya’s helmet swivels from him to the kid, then back again. “Kai—”

“Don’t,” he warns. “Don’t, Nya. This is how we get in trouble.”

She makes a quiet sound of frustration. “This is different. We’ve never…”

Kai blows his breath out, long and slow. “I know. I know, but Nya, we took the job.”

Nya’s hands tighten on the controls. “Screw the job.”

Kai jerks his head toward her, wishing for once that she could see his expression. “Not with this client. They’re Imperials, they’re too dangerous.”

“They’re Imperials,” Nya repeats, emphatically. “That should make it worth the danger.”

Kai presses his lips together, but he doesn’t argue back. He knows, he knows. He knows why Nya wants to abandon the job right now, because he does too. The very idea of handing their kid over to the client is making his stomach turn.

And yeah, he has zero love for Imperials. He has love for blasting them, maybe, but that’s as far as it goes, and he wouldn’t lose any sleep over going back on a job for them.

But then they’d lose the job. They’d lose their payment, they’d lose their place in the Guild, probably, and they’d walk out with a price on their heads and hunters coming after them.

It’s not worth it. Kai feels for the kid, he really does, but Nya comes first.

She can argue all she wants, but they both know it’s Kai’s call that will win out in the end.

***********************************

They land back at the Guild only a few days after they’d left it, but it feels like years have passed to Kai. Nothing’s changed, the dirt-lined streets still filled with the same eyes, but now those eyes are turned toward the small straggler clutching the end of Kai’s cloak where he hides between Kai and Nya’s steps.

Nya steps closer to the kid, her hand holding his tightly on instinct, something protective in her stance. Kai fights the growing feeling of nausea in his gut as he leads the way, hoping his helmet conveys enough intimidation to keep any lingering Guild members from trying to snatch their bounty last-minute. They’ve come this far, and it’d be a shame to end the job with a firefight in the middle of the street.

Or maybe he just wants to stretch out the last bits of protection he can give the kid as long as he can, before he hands him off for who knows what.

Kai’s eyes stray to his side against his will, watching the way the kid takes in the town with wide, curious eyes. There’s still a marked tinge of fear in them, that Kai is beginning to doubt will ever leave, but he looks…less terrified. More trusting.

Trusting of them, and if that doesn’t scrub salt in a wound.

Nobody attacks them, and Kai finds himself almost disappointed. All too quickly, they’re retracing a familiar path to their client, and Kai can spot all the hidden cameras this time. The steps toward the hidden compound feel heavy, like his boots have turned to lead. Nya is silent where she walks beside him, the kid’s hand gripping her gloved fingers tightly. It’s the weighted kind of silence, the kind that means she’s upset.

Kai isn’t feeling ecstatic himself, but they took a job.

They’re Mandalorian. They finish the job.

This is the way.

The doors slide open with little prompting this time, and the kid shrinks behind Nya as the white-armored troopers threaten to crowd closer. Kai’s fingers twitch toward his weapon, and they edge off. They don’t leave his back though, following them through the compound, and the eyes on his back burn.

They finally reach the client and his hollow eyes, seated in his dim room as if he hasn’t moved since they left. His face stretches into a leering sort of smirk as his eyes land on the kid, and something gleams to life in his dead eyes. It’s a hungry look, one that makes Kai’s stomach twist and turn, his heart sinking further.

“Well done,” the client rasps, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Well done indeed."

He pulls their payment from below his desk, the Beskar steel glinting in the dim light. The brief thrill Kai feels at the amount is stifled as their client nods his head at the stormtroopers once, then to the kid. They step toward them, clanking steps echoing heavily, and Nya goes stiff. For a minute, Kai fears she’s going to make a scene. That she won’t let them get any closer, that she’s about to shove the kid behind her and run.

For a half-second, Kai fears he might do the same.

They don’t move. Years of bounty hunting don’t allow for that weakness.

The troopers take the kid, handing him off to a dark-haired scientist. For his part, the kid barely struggles, a myriad of expressions crossing his face before his head droops, something like resignation in his eyes.

From behind her helmet, Kai thinks he hears Nya swallow.

“Your payment, as promised.”

Kai takes it automatically, the steel heavier in his hands than he’d thought it be. He doesn’t like it as much as he thought he would.

“The kid,” he says, his mouth running before he can stop it. “What’s going to happen to him?”

Nya’s helmet swivels sharply toward him, and Kai ignores her. The client raises a single eyebrow, and the gleam in his eyes gains a cold edge.

“I didn’t know it was customary for your kind to ask after their bounty,” he says, carefully.

Kai doesn’t reply. The client raises his head, as if to stare at Kai down the end of his nose.

“What I do with the child is my business,” he says, his voice flat. “I suggest you return to your own.”

The stormtroopers around them adjust their hold on their weapons, just enough to be threatening, and Kai knows this conversation is over. He nods sharply, pushing away from his seat and taking the rest of the steel as he stands. Nya follows after a beat, her posture stiff and brittle.

The troopers part to let them leave, though Kai can feel the stares burning into his back as he goes. He doesn’t care — their business here is done. They have no reason to bother Kai or Nya anymore.

But Kai is a stupid, stupid moron, and he does turn back, once, before they leave the compound.

The kid’s eyes burn into his, hollow and heartbroken, and Kai struggles to breathe behind his helmet.

This is the way, he repeats in his head. He keeps telling himself that until his feet obey him again.

***********************************

Nya says nothing as they make their way back, her silence icy and biting. Her fingers flex over her weapons as she stomps up the ramp of the ship, but she stares resolutely ahead, heading straight for the cockpit. Kai follows after her slowly, dragging himself slowly through the ship and up the ladder. Everything feels heavy. Their new armor, freshly crafted by Mystaké from the steel, is beautiful. Stronger and sturdier than anything they’ve worn before, and they look more Mandalorian than they ever have.

Kai tries to find joy in that, but he can’t. The pauldrons weigh too heavily on his shoulders, and all he feels is tired. Bone-dry and wrung out, like he’s spent everything he’s had on this mission. Numb.

He swallows as he takes a seat next to Nya, then bites back a curse. No, he doesn’t feel numb — and that’s the problem.

Firing up the ship is second-nature by now, and he doesn’t need Nya’s help the bring the engines to life. He can pilot them out of the atmosphere just fine by himself, get them as far away from this stupid planet as possible. Maybe they can go to Naboo, or Felucia, or anywhere that’s not a cursed desert planet. Just as long as it’s far enough away from prying eyes that they can finish their next job in peace, without his insides tearing themselves to pieces like—

Kai goes still, the engine puttering. Nya’s head turns the slightest bit toward him at the hesitation. He should’ve taken off minutes ago, the ship’s ready, but Kai’s fingers just…freeze, right over the knob on the center stick.

He swallows again, and it sticks in his throat this time. Something inside him is burning, twisting and dying with every movement. His arms feel leaden where he’s left them, frozen stiffly over the little ball, and for a second he can’t breathe again.

Those eyes. The kid’s eyes.

Kai wants to curse. His helmet is too hot, tight and constricting. They should leave. They should leave now, with their armor gleaming and their record clean, Nya safe and their ship intact, they should leave.

But that will mean leaving Lloyd behind, in the clutches of the Imperials.

Kai is not a force-sensitive. He can’t be, because he doesn’t put stock in the Force. But he can imagine, if he did, that their fabled visions feel much like the scene he sees flash before his eyes now. The kid and his gentle eyes, his burning eyes, torn apart and broken by the Imperials like every other thing they touch.

Lloyd.

Kai’s fist squeezes closed, gloved fingers biting into his palms. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t, he can’t, if he does he’s going to ruin everything. He’s going to wreck everything they’ve built to pieces and he’s going to put him and Nya in more danger than they’ve ever been in, hands down. They’ve got their payment, they’ve done their job, they’re legendary now. It would be stupid, it would be so, so stupid.

Unfortunately, stupid has always been one of Kai’s stronger points.

Kai swears out loud this time, and Nya jumps. Aw, to heck with it. What good is being rich if he can’t live with himself, anyways.

He kicks himself up from the seat, muttering under his breath. Nya snaps up beside him, looking to him as if she’s holding her breathe.

“Stock up on the good weapons,” Kai grumbles, already shouldering his heaviest blaster. “An Imperial compound’s gonna be tougher to break into than we’re used to.”

Nya lets out a loud, shaky breath of relief. Kai can’t see her expression, but he doesn’t need much to know that she’s beaming behind her helmet.

“I knew it,” she says, and the smile’s in her voice. “I knew you couldn’t do it.”

“Oh, shut up,” Kai mutters. “I’m not heartless.”

“No,” Nya says, with entirely too much fondness in her voice for someone who’s pocketing miniature missiles. “You’re just a good person.”

Kai frowns, jabbing a finger in her face as he shuts the ship down. “That was uncalled for,” he says. “Watch who you slander.”

Nya huffs a laugh, sliding the now nearly-empty weapons cabinet closed as she follows behind him. They cut a quick pace, and it takes every fiber of Kai’s being not to break into a dead sprint as they retrace their earlier path.

We’re coming, you stupid kid, he thinks fiercely. We’re coming back, so you better not have given up, because we’re about to fight a battalion of Imperials for you—

Well. There weren’t that many stormtroopers in the compound, Kai assures himself, as they turn another corner, followed once again by too many eyes. It shouldn’t be that bad.

***********************************

It’s bad.

Kai should never make assurances to himself, ever. Or promises, at that, because he sucks at keeping them. Heck, he can’t even keep to a job, since he’s pretty sure burning down half the house of his employer goes against a couple of rules.

But still. It might not be that bad, but it’s definitely bad.

“—backup, we need backup, it’s the Mandalorians, you fool—“

The unfortunate trooper’s call for help is cut off abruptly as Kai’s laser blast catches him in the helmet, sending him slumping to the floor. Kai gets only a moment of victory before another smattering of blaster fire sends him to the floor, scrambling for cover.

“Left door!” Nya hollers at him, her durasteel blade whistling as she catches a trooper in the ribs. “Three — no, four more!”

Kai nods sharply, shifting his blaster aside as he reaches for his wrist instead. Taking a quick breath, and shoots up from behind the table he’d been hiding behind, flicking the panel on his wrist as he faces down the newcomers.

The room flares bright as a blast of superheated flames erupts from Kai’s wrist, sending the troopers screaming. He spins in place, setting the room ablaze along with any remaining enemies. A gleeful sort of expression twists his lips as the fire grows, the heat feeding directly into the adrenaline coursing through him.

Take that, you dirty Imperials—

“Kai!” Nya’s shriek cuts through his haze of pyromania, jerking him back to the present, which is apparently him burning the entire room down. “Would you stop with the flamethrower already!” Nya howls at him, from where she’s had to duck behind a stack of crates to avoid incineration. Kai almost scoffs. As if he’d ever hit Nya on accident.

…he should probably watch it with the flames, though. Maybe a bit. Nya’s cape looks like it’s smoldering at the edges.

“Sorry, sorry,” he hisses, switching the flamethrower off and batting at the edge of his sleeve, which is also smoldering from the heat.

“Get it together,” Nya snaps, darting out from the crates and plastering herself against the doorway, glancing around the corner. “We gotta find Lloyd before they try anything.”

Right. The remind of why they’re here sinks in Kai’s stomach like ice, and he shakes his head, following behind Nya as they race through the compound. So far, they’ve had the element of surprise on their side — no one’s expected them to come back after having been paid, that’s for sure. But their client’s quick on the uptake, Kai will give him that. He can already hear the sound of clanking footsteps down the hall over the blaring of alarms, which means their time window is shrinking by the second.

“Come on, come on,” Nya hisses, the tracker in her hand beeping quicker the further into the compound they get. They round a corner stained with blood and Kai feels sick, picking up the pace as the tracker starts wailing, signaling that they’re close.

“Here, he’s in here!” Nya yelps, kicking savagely at the sealed blast door. “Kai, the door—“

Kai doesn’t need to be told twice, already aiming his blaster at the lock. “Get back,” he warns — then the blaster flashes, and the lock explodes into pieces, the door sliding open.

Nya makes it in the room first, her hand waving frantically as if to clear the smoke crowing around them. Kai is immediately after, and he’s the first to spot the droid, gunning it down without hesitation. His eyes dart around the room, landing on the cowering scientist in the corner, the two stormtroopers scrambling to their feet, the blinking machines, and—

There.

There’s a figure strapped to the table, too small to be a trooper, a shock of blond hair—

Kai’s blaster is flashing before he can even think, and the two stormtroopers drop, dead on impact. He leaves the doctor alive, just in case, because he doesn’t know what they wanted with Lloyd and if they’ve hurt him—

“Kid, kid, wake up, come on,” he breathes, snapping through the restraints with his blade. He’s vaguely aware of Nya securing the scientist, her blade leveled at him and her eyes glued on Lloyd. The kid’s eyes are closed, and there are dried tracks on his cheeks that used to be wet that Kai will hate himself for later — but he shifts as Kai finally tears the last of the straps free, his brow furrowing as he brings his hand up to scrub at his eyes as they flutter open.

The kid blinks, wide red eyes focusing on his helmet, and his mouth falls open.

“Kai?” he whispers.

Kai’s chest constricts, because he knows he never told the kid his name, but he’s learned it anyways.

“Hey,” he says, weakly, because he’s bad with this, he’s bad at caring for other people, and admitting it might feel like it’ll kill him but leaving behind Lloyd almost had—

The kid freezes, his expression spasming, before he throws himself at Kai—

And squarely punches him in the chest.

“Oof — hey, kid, stop — kid — Lloyd—“

Kai grabs at the kid’s struggling hands in vain. Lloyd just tugs free and hits him in the shoulder, harder this time, tiny fists battering against his thick armor.

“You left me behind,” the kid gets out, his voice cracking in all the worst places, angry and hurt. It’s the longest sentence Kai’s heard him speak, and it makes him want to throw up. “You left me.”

“I know, I know,” he babbles frantically, alarmed at this turn of events. This isn’t — he’s bad at this—

He gives Nya a look, his shoulders jerking helplessly. Her helmet inclines dangerously, and Kai turns back to the kid.

To heck with it.

Lloyd goes in for another swing, and Kai catches his wrist this time and pulls it, trapping the kid to his chest and wrapping his arms around him, holding tight. He struggles briefly, but Kai can feel him weakening, the fight draining.

“I’m sorry,” Kai murmurs. “I’m sorry, Lloyd. I won’t. Ever again. I promise.”

It’s one he’ll keep, he swears to himself, slotting the promise right next to the one he made to Nya long ago.

And maybe Lloyd senses that too, with whatever freaky powers he has or not, because he finally goes limp, the fight leaving him completely as he clings back, sniffling.

The kid’s voice is raw and scratchy, but there’s a fierceness to it that makes Kai wonder if he wouldn’t have been able to get himself out eventually on his own. “Never again.”

“Never again,” Kai echoes.

“And you call me sentimental,” Nya mutters, but he can hear the smile in her words.

***********************************

They don’t kill the scientist, in the end. It grates a bit, but he really didn’t hurt Lloyd — kept him alive, actually, if his word is anything to go by — and now they’ve got the word of an ex-Imperial scientist that he’ll help them out once he’s in a better position to do so, as long as they can remember the name Borg, or whatever.

Kai hopes Nya listened to him, because he’s too busy trying not to dissolve into panic at the increasing amount of hostiles showing up on his sensors.

There are few troopers left in the compound to stop them on their way out, but they put up a fight. Kai feels a flicker of apprehension that they’ve yet to see their client again, but he shrugs it off as the doors come back into view, the dimming evening sky clear outside. They break out of the compound at a dead sprint, Lloyd tucked into the crook of his arm and Nya at his side — only to immediately skid to a stop. Kai swears.

He’s forgotten the sheer amount of bounty hunters that also wanted in on the kid, and are probably more than happy to get another chance. Apparently, they’re all here to claim it at once. Fantastic.

Nya’s the first to move, turning to the figure standing a the front of the pack, his eyepatch glinting in the dying sunlight.

“Ronin,” Nya says, weakly. “Please.”

Ronin almost looks regretful, something at the corners of his mouth creasing at Nya’s plea.

“Kid,” he says, heavily. “You know I can’t. There’s cutting you slack, then there’s this.”

Nya sucks in a breath, her eyes doubtlessly landing on the dozens of blasters trained on them. Lloyd remains deadly silent in his arms, but Kai can feel the fear radiating off of him in waves. He tightens his hold on him, hoping it’s reassurance.

For himself, somewhat, too.

Nya’s helmet swivels from Ronin to Kai, then back to Ronin. Kai holds his breath. If anyone can change Ronin’s mind, it’s Nya.

Ronin’s expression twists in pain. “Look, just hand the kid over,” he says, and it sounds like he’s the one pleading now. “Just give the kid back and I’ll sort the whole thing out, okay? I can swing it, I can clear you both. All you gotta do is hand the kid back, and you’ll be fine.”

Lloyd shudders in his hold, and Kai pulls him tighter to his chest, his stance defensive.

“You know we can’t,” Nya murmurs.

There’s another flash of pain across Ronin’s expression, before he steels it. “I’ll miss you,” he says, his voice void of emotion. “But there’s always someone else to take your place.”

The sound of the safety clicking off blasters echoes across the street, and Kai’s hand strays to his gauntlet, ready to unleash the flames once more. He’ll get the kid behind him, shove him off to Nya before telling her to run, and maybe — if he can cause enough of a fight — the two can get out of here. He’ll be breaking his promise, but at least Nya and Lloyd will have a chance.

That’s enough for him, he tells himself, fingers millimeters from unleashing the flames. That’s enou—

A bounty hunter to his left lets out a sharp cry, before dropping to the ground. Kai’s head jerks toward him, before there’s another scream, another hunter dropping.

And that’s all the warning they get before the street explodes into utter chaos, missiles streaking back and forth and the roar of jetpacks mixing with the screams. Kai throws himself into Nya, twisting last-minute so he’s covering them both, and hurls them toward an alleyway just as the street they were on explodes.

His vision goes hazy, ears ringing as the world spins sideways. This would be a nice time to take a nap, he thinks dizzily.

There’s a gentle touch at his shoulder, and he’s jostled as someone shakes him.

“Kai. Kai, get up.”

He blinks his eyes open at the kid’s frightened voice, and is met with a pair of red eyes staring down at him in open terror. The terror melts into relief as Kai groans, slowly pushing himself up.

“Okay?” the kid asks, insistently, as if the utter carnage exploding on the street next to them isn’t even happening.

“M’fine,” Kai moans, reaching for his weapon as he reorients himself. “What’s — where’s Nya—“

His eyes catch on her, and his heart almost stops.

Nya’s moving, pushing herself up with a light moan, her forehead creased as she scrubs a hand across her face, dark hair falling in messy tangles around her head. Lloyd stares at her, his eyes wide, and reaches a careful hand to touch her hair.

“You do have a face,” he whispers.

Nya blink rapidly, looking at Lloyd, then up to Kai. And oh, his heart squeezes something painful at her eyes — it’s so rare he gets to see them — but he quickly reaches for her helmet, handing it to her.

Nya stares at it, then swears violently as a blast erupts just to their left.

“You saw nothing!” she yelps, pointing at the kid and jamming her helmet back on, fumbling once in panic. There’s a note of fear in her voice, because they technically have sworn an oath, not to let any living thing see their face—

But who’s the kid gonna tell, anyways.

Besides, they’ve got much bigger problems, like the entire Mandalorian faction on the planet going to war with the bounty hunter’s Guild for them in the street nearby. Mystaké’s risking everything for them right now, so Kai quickly decides that they had better make the best of it.

***********************************

“Well, I guess we’re fired now.”

Nya lets out a wheezing laugh at his dry statement, the sound echoing across the ship as they speed through hyperspace, putting as much distance between themselves and any bounty hunters as they can. Mystaké beamed them one last transmission before they’d taken off, assuring them that no, the other Mandalorians stepping up to save their skins last-minute was not a mistake, but that they had better clear off for a while before they tried to contact her again.

Which was just fine by Kai. He wasn’t too eager to get his head blasted off by a bitter bounty hunter anytime soon.

“I mean, technically, he didn’t really fire us,” Nya argues, slumping into the co-pilot’s seat beside him. “He just fired at us.”

“Yeah, that’s practically a goodbye hug by Ronin’s standards,” Kai says, and Nya snorts.

Lloyd looks between them both where he’s seated behind them, Kai’s cloak pulled tightly around his shoulders. “Weird,” he mutters, shaking his head. Kai blinks, and Nya stifles a giggle.

“You should talk, you could write the book on being weird,” Kai scoffs. He eyes the kid in concern, looking him up and down. “And hey, you should catch some rest. S’probably been a rough time for you, with all the, uh….stuff.” Kai cringes as he trails off, feeling Nya’s glare on him.

Lloyd purses his lips, then shakes his head silently. Kai narrows his eyes at him.

“Alright, kid, nice try, but I know you can speak full sentences,” he says. “We’re gonna prioritize communication here, okay? First rule on board, you gotta talk to us.”

“Kai,” Nya sighs.

“What?” He says, throwing his hands up. “We’re stuck together now, kid’s gotta go with the flow.”

Nya’s helmet twitches, as if she’s rolling her eyes at him, which she definitely is. “You don’t have to talk unless you’re okay with it, Lloyd,” she says gently, turning to the kid. “You’re safe here, we promise.”

Lloyd stares at her, the edge of his mouth quirking up in something that’s not quite a smile, but something trusting.

“And part of being safe is not dropping dead in exhaustion, so rest,” Kai orders, firmly.

Lloyd meets his stare dead on, then the edge of his mouth curves down, making a face that looks dangerously stubborn.

“Next planet,” he says. “Then rest.”

Oh, for—

“This is your fault,” Kai hisses at Nya, as she smothers a laugh. “We have a kid now, do you realize that? We just adopted a freaky wizard kid, we have to raise him now, we’re not even adults—“

Nya leans back in her seat, giving up and laughing freely. “Whatever,” she says, scuffing the kid’s hair. “I always wanted a younger sibling to gang up with you on. How about the next two planets, then rest?”

Kai sputters as Lloyd beams, realizing his critical mistake too late. He finally gives up, sinking back in his seat and sulking.

“Ungrateful brats,” he mutters. “You rescue one kid, and this is the thanks you get.”

He will admit though, to himself at least, that it’s rather difficult to keep sulking when Lloyd’s soft laughter fills the cockpit. And yeah, the kid’s definitely going to crash after passing one planet, but it’s been a pretty exciting day, Kai figures, tossing the knob from the center stick at the kid, unable to stop the grin tugging at his mouth at the expression of delight on Lloyd’s face.

He can let them have their fun for now. They’ve earned it.

Besides, he can always rub it in their faces tomorrow, when every other bounty hunter in the galaxy is after them.