#twi’leki

[sashketter]

If Howzer was stationed on Ryloth for as long as I think most of us assumed, then he absolutely knows Twi’leki. Maybe he’s fluent, maybe he only knows the curse words, but he absolutely mumbles it under his breath whenever he’s mad, and Rex and Gregor are just like 👀🤷🏻‍♀️

[izzystizzys]

When the 212th collaborates with the 501st, chaos is sure to follow in their footsteps. This has been largely true of every engagement since the start of the war, in Cody’s experience. Had he even an ounce more of a rebellious streak, he might question why and whether the success rate is worth the feral instinct for mayhem his battalion and Rex’ awaken in each other - as it is, he simply fills out the after action reports and then screams into his pillow, which is hard as durasteel and doesn’t warrant the name.

Or, on some days, he steps into the training rooms to work off some nervous jitters only for his foot to catch on someone’s armoured shoulder and faceplant straight into what looks like the entirety of both battalions piled together in a massive cuddle pile.

“What”, he manages between gritted teeth, heaving himself up with one hand supported on Crys’ arm and the other planted in places that make Boil jackknife up with a strangled yelp, “the kriff is this?!”

“We’re watching the Corrie Reality Special, sir”, his own voice calls from somewhere across the room. “The 91st is passing by, so we have satellite access to the Coruscant Broadcast network for a few hours, and we couldn’t settle on a specific show -“

“- so we decided to watch them all”, Rex finishes, sheepishly, where he’s fought his way through wiggling piles, hoots and badly imitated monkey lizard noises. The thought that he shares DNA with these degenerates is enough to drive Cody to the brink of a nervous breakdown some days. “Spopcorn?”

Ah. The Corrie Reality Circuit. When Cody first heard of it, he’d thought it was a prank. Then, they were deployed to the middle of bumkriff nowhere on the edges of Midrim space edging on Outer Rim, with a connection so spotty even classified military intel only got through about half the time, and the whole idea got shelved in favour of clankers and keeping his General’s lightsaber in his General’s hand where it belonged.

Now, a gaudy, glittery monstrosity of a logo announcing a Coruscant Rotational special appears on a rigged up screen, which means one of two things: either Fox is pulling the Galaxy’s greatest long con on all of them, or he’s been murdered and replaced with an evil clone (ha!), because there are no circumstances in which he would agree to star on Coruscant Reality TV.

Cody tilts his head consideringly. Rex smiles at him sheepishly. Tilts the spopcorn bowl at him, invitingly.

“Oh, dank farrik, sit your shebs down!”, someone (Fives, probably) yells out, fed-up…ly.

Cody sits his shebs down.

“Good morning and welcome all of Coruscant to the Great Coruscant Rotational Special: Our Boys in Red Edition!”, a bright red Twi’leki man announces on the screen amidst cheerful jizz music and loud hooting from the training room. “My name is Braham Horton, and I will be your exalted host for this fine, fine late night cycle!”

“And now, gentlebeings of the metropolis, I present to you the images that have driven us all to laughter, joy, and even tears at times over these past few weeks - whodathunkit, that the CSF media project would enthrall a whole Galaxy of viewers and cause the largest recorded peaceful civil protest of all time?!”

“The sorry what now”, says Cody, suddenly thinking back to the urgent meeting General Kenobi was currently in with Generals Windu and Yoda - passing by on the Venator in orbit. “Uhm”, says Rex. Braham Horton, unfazed by the commotion he’s causing lightyears away, chatters on.

“- many hours, so we’ve compiled an introductory little best-of for you, exalted viewers! And what better best of to start off on than the hottest entry of the most explosive bombshell into the villa - please give it up for Commander Thorn and how he stole all of our hearts on Love Island!”

A garish, club-tech jingle Cody has so far only heard buzz through the walls of establishments that generally didn’t allow clones thrums through the training room, followed by what can only be described as the sort of noises spiced up banthas might make. Thorn appears on screen, more oiled up and half-naked than Cody remembers, though just as bleach-blond, hair slightly longer than regulation and smile blindingly perfect.

“I’m Commander Thorn, baseline twenty-four years humanoid - during daytime I might be the scourge of Coruscant’s criminal underworld, but at night I don’t mind playing good cop for you!” He punctuates it woth a sleazy wink and fingerblasters that have Rex honest-to-god gagging, and Cody seeing his life flash before his eyes. If Alpha-17 finds out about this…

Suddenly, Thorn’s smile drops in favour of what might almost be called a scowl on even his handsome face, and the music cuts out. “There, got your soundbyte. Can I go back now? I’m supposed to be on shift.” Indistinct, off-screen chatter and a captioned oopsie… appear in a shower of glitter. Thorn’s face does something complicated. “For HOW MANY MONTHS?!”

Cut to a montage of what Cody can only describe as beaches, oil and abs galore, Braham Horton narrates and extremely close-up shot of what Cody tries very hard not to identify as Thorn’s crotch. His own crotch, in a way. Oh no, that’s weird, stop that train of thought immediately-

“Although our favourite bombshell’s entry into the villa wasn’t without its hitches and hurdles-“, emphasized by a zoom-in on Thorn’s form in a speedo huddled away from a partying crowd of softcore-kriffing contestants on a yacht, “- as well as all know, he would soon find his place in the villa - or places, rather!”

Two crying humanoid women appear on screen, with eyeliner smudges down to their knees. A hoot goes through the room. Cody watches with a sense of impeding doom. “You slept with her after I chose to match up with you instead of Chad?! How could you!”

Thorn, still oiled up with both blasters out for the world to see, winces. “I didn’t me-“

A hysterical gasp, a camera swerve. Three more people stand by the doorway, all clutching their chests with wide eyes. A broad, green Twi’leki man raises a finger to point accusingly. “You were sleeping with them too?! I thought I was the only one!”

“Dear Force”, Cody murmurs, unable to look away from the building speeder wreck on screen. Braham Horton laughs good-naturedly at his misery. “Ah, good times! And who could forget the all-out brawl of the following matching night, where a record number of every single other contestant attempted to physically fight the others for the right to match up with Commander Thorn! Including a somehow returned Chad, who nearly won thanks to the element of surprise. I wish we could show the footage, but then we’d have to slap several warnings on it and probably still get taken off the air.”

“I didn’t know Corries kriffed like that!”, someone (Fives, let’s be honest, it was definitely Fives) calls out into the room, receiving snickers and a well-aimed pillow to the throat for his trouble. He goes down with a choking scream.

“Someone who was less impressed by the hot’n bothered beach weather was Commander Thire, who found himself Less than Impressed by his co-contestants inability to keep it in their pants on Too Hot To Handle!”

Thire’s face, identical to Thorn’s in every way except the ones that matter, appears on screen. His black hair is cut in a cropped mohawk, arms folded over a button-up he’s carefully pieced together with… safety pins? Where are the buttons on it?

“These people are pathological and pathetic and I will spend not a second longer on this farce of an attempt at ‘entertainment show’”, says Thire, air-quotes so sharp they could cut stone. His scowl might be permanently etched into his face, Cody can’t tell. “Unlike literally everyone else, I have an actual job to do. Now move.”

A brief pause, in which cheerful jizz music plays over what is obviously a producer begging off-camera, followed by an eyeroll so hard it hurts Cody’s brain to watch. Thire throws his hands into the air in defeat, marching off into the sea behind him still fully clothed.

“When they didn’t find him until the last episode, I’ll admit, I thought he’d died too!”, Braham Horton cuts in cheerfully. “But would you look at his little lonely island lair - now that’s a fulfilled man, and too many coconuts for my taste! We’ve had to blur his hands out as he discovered the cameras just moments before these holos were taken, unfortunately. And, dear viewer, who could forget this exit-interview for the ages!”

A considerably more clothed Thire appears on screen, eyeing a microphone like he’s about to use it to stab out his own eyes. The reporter clears their throat in audible anxiety. “C-commander, how would you describe your reality experience in one word?”

“Demeaning”, says Thire, blandly.

Silence.

“Um, o-okay”, squeaks the reporter.

“Would you like some more words?”, asks a dead-eyed Thire.

“No, um, I think - I think we’re alright.”

“Because I have many words. Mostly for whoever the *bleep* thought this was a *bleep* good idea, and *bleeeeeeee-*”

“We’ve had to censor most of the Commander’s on-screen appearance, dear viewer, for your sensibilities”, says Braham Horton, eternally and painfully cheerful. “And speaking of sensibilities, who could forget Commander Stone honouring his name in several challenges on ‘I’m A Holostar - Get Me Out Of Here!’”

Soulful violin music fills the gym, overlaid with images of a bald vod Cody surmises must be Stone. Stone stares stonily into the void, glass of bright green something raised to his lips and already half-empty.

“Memorably, he downed a pint of acklay urine within seconds-“

Horrified screams are followed by an image of Stone chewing, yet another thousand-klick stare.

“- or when he ate Tauntaun anus -“

Rex doubles over gagging, and Cody slowly puts his handful of Spopcorn back down.

“- of course the ten minute worm-bath challenge cannot go unmentioned -“

“FORCE PLEASE NO!”, screams someone (Echo) tearfully. Commander Stone, buried to the chin in wiggling orange worms, looks less impressed.

“ - and who could forget his encounter with a horde of ginntho spiders and nests of vexis snakes!”

A remote goes sailing past the screen, missing by a mile, as images of Stone with his whole arm stuck in various boxes fly past. Someone is retching. It might be Cody.

“We would show the infamous butchery challenge wherein the Commander found himself drenched in nexu guts and sandworm brains, but once again, this is family friendly programming and we are not allowed. Nevertheless, a win well-deserved. And now, please welcome the one, the only, the awe-inspiring, the unbelievable: Marshall Commander Fox!”

Another Force-awful jingle, big, blocky letters, and Cody chokes on his own spit when Fox’s scowling face appears on screen. He’s thinner, greyer and angrier than the last time they saw eachother in person. Only the last one is really a surprise.

“I am neither naked nor afraid”, says Fox, arms crossed firmly, foot tapping impatiently on the ground. “I am, however, quickly losing my patience. Explain to me again the point of spending my valuable time undressing in the middle of bum-*bleep* nowhere on the Midrim instead of doing my job as the head of planetary security in the middle of a Galaxy-wide war?”

Several beats of silence follow. Fox grows less impressed with each. Cody knows that look well. Usually, it precedes handcuffs and a cold sonic blast to the face.

“Um… you signed a contract?”, says a producer’s voice uncertainly off-screen. Fox barks out a harsh laugh. “I’m legally classified as military property, my signature holds less weight than if I’d had one of the Guard’s massiffs shit on that contract for me.”

“Ouch!”, calls Crys.

“Gettim!”, adds Longshot.

“But… don’t you sign off military documents all the time for the Senate?”, sputters the producer.

Fox smiles with far to many teeth. It’s also a look Cody knows far too well, and even lightyears away it has a shudder going down his spine.

“Really makes you think about the technicalities of that definitely-not-slave-army, doesn’t it?”, he says, dryly.

“Although considerably less naked and afraid than all other contestants, Commander Fox left us with many memorable moments - such as when he saved the entire crew from an angry Acklay!”

Most of the next holovid is blurred out, though Cody can (unfortunately) guess at the why and how. So can most everyone else, judging by the collective groan.

“Down, boy”, says Fox, flatly, to a hissing Acklay twice his size. It rears its fanged head, and a shudder goes through the room. Fox simply crosses his arms and nails the beast with an unimpressed look. “You are making a fool of both of us. Cut it out.”

Chastised, the Acklay blinks at him, slowly lowering itself back down with a confused hiss.

“No kriffing wonder all the Corrie shinies are such hardasses”, mutters Rex, whom Cody is hard pressed to agree with. “I came from a tube and that look gave me daddy issues.”

“Yes, dear viewer, who could forget these heart-warming moments of good, quality television!”, sighs Braham Horton, dreamily. “Not Coruscant anytime soon, that’s for sure! We are now entering the twentieth rotation of the sit-in protest of a petition to allow the Commanders of the Coruscant Guard to compete on Dancing With The Planets, Coruscant Rotational’s epic dance competition!”

“Dear bum-kriffing Force”, whispers Rex, wide-eyed and awe-struck. “Does Fox know about this?!”

Cody, who’s already dialing the kriffer’s comm-code, wipes a singular tear from his eye. “Not a clue, but kriff, am I going to enjoy telling him.”

[coffeeandbatboys]

Hello! This is Carol (@clonethirstingisreal) but I can't send an ask from that account.

Congratulations on your 270 followers!!! Thanks so much for doing this event!

I pick Howzer, the #1 and 😜

Thanks so much!!

Thanks for sending in an ask! I threw everyone’s favorite future rebel and past gremlin child Hera in here for plot 😂

Prompt: sending each other little selfies or pictures throughout the day when they’re apart

Alema: Twi’leki meaning Protector. Nerra means Brother.

Warnings: possible itty bitty innuendo at the end if you squint really hard. Reader is Hera’s babysitter/bodyguard/chaperone. Howzer is a smooth and chivalrous little shit

Girls Day (Howzer x Fem!Reader)

“Alema look! Hera shouted, practically dragging you towards the merchant stall that housed racks of jewelry made with braided twine.

You sighed and trotted along behind her.

“Hera if you want me to take you shopping I need my arm in its socket.”

“Sorry. Got a little excited.”

You both scanned the colorful array of handmade jewelry when your eyes landed in a stack of teal bracelets. Hera must have spotted them too because she looked up at you with wide green eyes.

“It’s the same color as Howzer’s armor!”

You smiled and turned to the woman running the stall.

“How much?” You asked.

The woman peered at the teal bracelets you pointed to and nodded. “Four credits each.”

You took out your little pouch and handed her eight credits, slipping one of the bracelets on Hera’s wrist and one on your own.

“Let’s take a Holo for Howzer.” You said, kneeling next to the girl and holding up your wrist. She did the same and gave the biggest grin she could.

You snapped the pic and stood, taking Hera’s hand again and leading her along as you sent the holo.

“Honorary squad members?” You typed, giggling at your own stupid joke.

A few seconds later your comm pinged. A picture of Ballast and Howzer flickered up.

“Nice try. We’ll defend you fine ladies with our lives though. Having a nice girls day, cyare?”

You blushed, still getting used to the nickname. Every time he used it, your insides turned to mush and you couldn’t help but feel like a giddy child.

Speaking of giddy children, you decided that a something cold and sweet sounded very good at the moment.

“Hera, dear. How do blue milkshakes sound?”

If the girl’s eyes could get any bigger, they wouldn’t fit her face. She nodded. “Yes please, Alema!”

After ordering and receiving the drinks, you both sat down in the shade to enjoy them.

You and Hera chatted about her schooling and about your latest project when another shadow loomed over the both of you. Your eyes followed teal and gray plastoid up until they met that beautiful face.

“Afternoon, m’ladies.”

You smiled. “Afternoon, Howzer.”

Hera beamed. “Hello Nerra!”

Eleni and Cham waved to their daughter from the distance, beckoning her over. She scrambled up to leave, but not before giving both you and your trooper a hug.

Howzer chuckled and sat down next to you. You offered him the rest of your milkshake, which he gladly accepted.

"You know, Mesh'la, I had to think about something today."

"Mm?" You hummed, leaning into his shoulder.

"Holos don't do justice to your beauty. I think I'd much rather see you in person."

You giggled and kissed his jaw, right over the scar that sat there. He gave you a cheeky grin and twisted the straw around the cup with his tongue.

"Oh, I think that can be arranged."

Here’s the bracelet that inspired this 😂 you can buy it on Etsy also

[moodymisty]

The Sound Of Your Voice - Ch1

Author's Note: So I finally went for it. The multichapter fic begins! I haven't written one of these in... gosh 10 years? A LOTR fic. Anywho I hope you guys enjoy! I hope you'll join me on this at minimum 4-5 chapter adventure (yes there will be smut eventually I know why you follow me) so lets have some fun!

This is mostly a fun self-indulgent project, but I hope at least a few others enjoy it too.

Summary: Life in the skies of Coruscant is dreary; Who better to spice it up than a know-it-all you met on the Holonet.

Relationships: Tech/Fem!Reader

Story-wide Warnings: SFW, Friends to lovers, You are working as a personal assistant for a senator, Eventual smut, Mutual pining, Lots of texting in the first chapter, Scenebuilding so much scenebuilding, an OC for plot's sake, Dehumanization of the clones,

Word count: 4015

ao3 link

The sound of quiet chatter echos through the gigantic central room and the connecting halls, along with heels against tile and drinking glasses clinking against each other.

It’s the usual symphony of a gala; Small groups or pairs of people chatting about business while munching on small, freshly prepared foods and drinking expensive liquor. The main event for the evening, which was a play by a small but talented production group has since finished, with the last round of food being served before the evening finally concludes.

You’ve already done your fair share of circles around the event, chatting with co-workers and business partners, as well as potential ones.

And now that you were finished with your rounds, you find yourself stuck in a quiet corner holding a mostly untouched drink in your hands. It’s good, but there’s something about the amount of thoughts swirling in your head that keeps you from raising it to you lips, staring off in no particular direction.

Accepting to come here was a mistake. I knew I should’ve just stayed home and gotten some actual work done.

Though, this does technically count as work; You remember.

Both your datapads burn a hole in the purse you have slung over your shoulder with their weight, just as a reminder of the reason why you’re here. Social gatherings are a part of the job, even if they don’t present themselves overtly in the job description.

If you’d known that working for a senator would result in this, you might’ve not taken the job when it was presented.

It’s getting quite late; The stars are already shining high in the sky, and you can see the flashing lights of air taxis and speeders in the skylanes below one of the many sets of ballroom windows.

I hope she’s making use of this time to actually sweeten the pot with some other senators on her new bill, or else I’m putting a nice twi’leki massage on her tab tomorrow.

But as you stand here you’ve become so lost in your own thoughts you don’t notice when it seems your thoughts have summoned her, and Llenya appears with a glass in her hands.

It seems the Mirialan senator has a mind for when her assistant is at their wits end; Adjusting the wrist of her dress as she looks you up and down only once.

“Are you alright?”

Beyond her soft, dinner table smile she has the slightest bit of worry on her face, the deep purple lipstick she’s wearing contrasting with the color of her skin. The color matches her floor length dress, as well as the clips that hold her hair in its intricate styling. You look at her for a moment, shrugging before answering.

“I just feel a little woozy. I’m going to go get a bit of fresh air, and see if that helps. Can you live without me for a moment?”

Her smile gets slightly wider, just barely pushing her cheeks upwards towards her eyes.

“I think I can manage. But I would appreciate your help in dealing with one of the other senators, before he gets too drunk to negotiate with.” You’re not a fan of the fact that you know exactly which senator she’s referring to, and the idea of dealing with them doesn’t fill you with excitement.

But now that you’ve spoken to her you can steal a moment to yourself, gently pushing through the crowd and keeping your face tilted downwards; In the hopes that people wouldn’t recognize you and want to speak. After Llenya recently submitted her newest draft for her refugee supply distribution bill it seems everyone wants to speak on it, and be the first to have some sort of juicy information regarding the matter. And when they can’t speak to her, they have to deal with you.

The moment you hit the one of the sets of doors leading to the balcony the fresh, cool air hits your face, and you can’t help taking in a deep sigh. At least as deep as one you can take, with the corset of your dress wrapped tight around your waist.

This was a beautiful dress; A deep maroon red that almost brushed across the floor and flowed around your wrists, but it has become more than a little uncomfortable as the night as gone on.

Moving away from the doors you slowly walk along the outside of the ballroom, admiring the clouds shining bright from Coruscant’s lights as you wander while drifting your hand along the railing. It’s surprising you don’t spot anyone on the way, though the gala’s staff are more than likely being quite careful to avoid any stragglers meandering out of the venue.

But in your wandering you end up by the back entrance of the building, and stop only once you find something that manages to catch your interest. The night sky casts a soft light over your only peaceful moment in this entire night of annoyances so far.

The spot you’re standing in overlooks an absolutely beautiful rooftop garden; Plants from no less than five different planets all planted in dramatic patterns and trimmed to perfection. Not a single leaf or flower was out of place, nor had been allowed to fall onto the paths weaving through it. The topiary are all perfectly manicured, and in a way they seem almost artificial; As if no living plant could be shaped into such a perfectly strict form. You didn’t know this place had a garden of this scale, as it was completely unseen when you’d first arrived.

It’s such a wonderful sight, it would be nice to share it with someone.

Maybe he would like it?

Though he seemed to like everything, to a degree. Maybe it’s the side effect of having such a scientific mind.

Your personal datapad is quickly pulled from your bag, before you lean forward over the railing to take one quick picture of the expansive garden. Once you lean back you take a look, and your lips purse together just a tad.

It doesn’t look as pretty as a picture...

But it still looks nice. You send it, and feel the way your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth as you wait for a response. You don’t have to wait long to get one.

- Are those Poya berteronias? In the top left?

It seems like he waits for your response for only a moment, before elaborating.

- Blue Poyas, is the name most people traditionally know them as.

- Yes, they are. I didn’t know you had such a keen eye for plants.

Though he seems to have a keen eye for everything, in all of the times you’ve spoken too him. There hasn’t been a thing yet he hasn’t been an expert on.

- information on plant biology and botany is not exactly rare. I’ve had some downtime to research such things relatively recently.

- You seemed to know your fair share as well, in our previous conversations.

- Aww, thanks Tech.

Tech. Part of you still thinks the name is a little odd, but you had always assumed it was a nickname that had attached to him like glue, and he just prefers it. Given his personality, it’s a more than accurate nomer. As well the skill it alludes to the reason why he apparently works for the GAR, as he’d once said.

Part of your considers taking the half flight of stairs down into the garden and walking around, but your feet are already complaining after spending the evening in such uncomfortable heels, so you ultimately decide against it. As much as you would enjoy getting a chance to take in more of the fresh air and maybe smell some of the flowers.

Tech hasn’t messaged for a moment, and you assume he’d gotten swept away by something or someone, until he messages again about five minutes later.

- I apologize for disappearing. I was looking for something in one of my datasticks.

He sends an attachment moments later, which you open to see an image of the flower he’d brought up earlier. Only it was wild, what most people would consider overgrown and so big it had almost begun to weep.

- Wow, where did you see this?

- We were on Devaron a few standard months ago. I remembered it being a rare plant and decided to document it.

He types ‘we’, though it gets so quickly corrected to ‘I’ that you almost miss it. He does that sometimes, so you figure he just has family or partners from work that he doesn’t want to speak on.

You don’t want to pry, but it doesn’t mean you aren’t curious.

You mean to ask why GAR would send someone like him to a planet so remote like Devaron, though a set of footsteps from behind you makes you turn your head away from your datapad for a moment. One finger shuts off the screen, while you take a better look at the person approaching you.

Someone about your age; Though you don’t recognize him. People come in and out of your work life so fast that it’s hard to remember faces, even if you’ve spoken to them before.

“The party not keeping you entertained?”

He gives a polite smile, stepping close enough to be within range of quiet conversation. Glancing down to see your datapad in your hands, you put it back into your bag moments later.

“Just needed a little bit of air, that’s all. It felt so hot in there, I just wanted some breathing room. Especially after the play finished.” He laughs and nods, looking downward at the garden before back up at you. He leans against the railing, an elbow supporting him while he grabs his wrists.

“It certainly wasn’t the best play I’ve seen, though I haven’t seen quite as many as most people.” You turn to look through one of the ballroom windows and instantly recognize a few faces, but it seems some have left.

Good, the party is finally dispersing. As if it isn’t already way too late.

“Oh, I’ve only seen a few also. I’m more of a concert person, personally.”

At the moment however, I’m mostly a ‘leave me alone’ person.

As much as you might like to, you hold your tongue and smile, for the sake of avoiding any sort of repercussions for an abit small annoyance.

“But I have to get back inside; I know there’s probably a few people all in there ready to pounce once I return.” Nodding to you, he still keeps his hopeful expression despite his attempts at anymore conversation resulting in failure.

“Well, I’ll see you back inside then. I think I’ll take another moment of air and admire the scenery.” You smile.

“Enjoy the view, it’s lovely.”

Quickly shuffling back inside you once again keep your head low enough, until you’re back on the acceptable outskirts of the party. It’s not as if you hate all parties and social events; It’s that so many of these forced encounters tend to grate on you after awhile. But even so, you still need to search for Llenya before she notices how long you’ve been gone. She might be a little bit more lenient with you than another senator might be, but missing a good portion of the party she’s using for gathering good will is a little far past her limit of leniency.

You find her speaking to a senator you vaguely recognize, but as you make your way over, he leaves before you have a chance to speak. Llenya feels your presence beside her and turns, eyebrows raising upwards.

“Feeling better?” The metal of her jewelry clinks together softly as she adjusts it on her wrist.

“Yeah. It was just so hot in here I was starting to get nauseous.” Her smile fades for just a moment. Great, she is more than likely not pleased that you weren’t here to keep people off of her back.

“Whatever happened to ‘just a moment’?” Someone brushes by quite close behind you, causing you to take a small step forward.

“Someone wandered by and starting trying to talk to me.” While I was speaking to the person I actually wanted to talk too… “I didn’t recognize him from anywhere though. And he didn’t seem interested in talking about you, surprisingly.” That perks her interest, though she doesn’t get much of a chance to question who they might’ve been, before she decides to divulge more important matters.

“I think it might be time for us to take our leave; Judging by the last conversation I had, it seems I’ve worn out my welcome among a, good portion of the guests.” She must’ve been pushing her bill on people hard, if they were souring on her like that. Granted, she knew it was a hard sell coming into this.

Many of these senators are notably not fans of actually pushing money towards relief effort for the war, especially if they aren’t going to get any sort of gain from it.

“I’ll call the driver.” You do exactly that, and once you grab both of your coats, it’s moments before you’re both in the air taxi. The driver knows the address, so he instantly begins driving to Llenya’s private home once you say to do so.

She spends most of the time talking about a few of the people she’d had conversation with, though you find it difficult to keep invested beyond giving noises of understand.

I hope Tech doesn’t think I just got bored of talking to him…

“I think I’m going to make a few small changes to it; If I do so, I think I might before to win over a few more senators before my time is up.” You can see her building through the divider of the air taxi, before turning to her and nodding.

“When you do, send it to me and I’ll do the rest right then.” Pulling up to the private entrance, Llenya gets out, but hangs on the door for a second and smiles at you.

“Remind me to thank you for working so late.” You wiggle your fingers and smile back.

“I’ll be sure to. Good night.” Once she closes the door, you tell the driver to bring you back to your own place now, so you can finally get some well needed rest.

It’s been a long night.

Once you arrive, you’re more than quick to slide off the seat and out, closing the door and not even turning as the taxi goes off back into the skylane.

Finally, home.

Once you get inside and close the door behind you, your first stop is your bedroom; To change out of this clothing before it makes your body ache anymore. These sorts of events always take a lot out of you; The excess of delicate dancing that is social interaction with senators and hours and hours of standing around in uncomfortable dress, but in the end nothing feels better than tearing it all away once it’s over.

Moving to your closet you grab a pair of sleep clothes off a middle shelf and slowly change, sighing as you take off the restrictive dress you’d been wearing all night and gently hanging it back up. After doing so, you stand in the full length mirror and slowly undo your hair, until it’s no longer pinned and clipped into place.

Once you finish, it takes a good roll of your shoulders to realize how long you had to hold such a tight posture. And deciding to relax, you sit down on the bed and it’s still neatly tucked sheets, curling your legs up and leaning against the headboard.

Your bag was close by, so you hook the strap with your foot and pull it close enough to grab, and pull your datapad out. Your work one was pulled partly out by accident, but you don’t bother to do anything about it.

Instead, you open up to continue the chat you’d started what felt like ages ago, though it had only been a few hours.

-I hope you’ll forgive me for disappearing.

Tech instantly responds again.

Does this man ever sleep? Anytime I message, he seems to always be right here.

-Forgotten.

- I was actually attending a party earlier, But I had to show my face again eventually.

- Was it so droll that there was no one to talk to?

Oh, there were plenty of people to talk to; Just none you wanted to. You talk to plenty of senators and other political figures enough during your time working, and so you have zero desire to try and pretend to be their friend. Especially when it’s so transparently transactional.

That’s however, not a very pleasant answer to his question, so you just scrap it for a more endearing one.

- No, you’re just a far more entertaining conversationalist.

- I’m glad you find my ability to nurture conversation with an endless array of topics entertaining.

- That was a joke.

It almost hurts the way you attempt to avoid smiling at your datapad, finding his sudden declaration so incredibly endearing.

You’ve never met anyone quite like Tech; Which you’re more than happy to have.

- I figured. Though it’s a bit hard to know without hearing someone’s tone of voice.

You’ve never actually heard Tech’s voice, in all this time. You have one for him in your head; One that reads his dialogue in your mind instead of it being a bunch of silent text scrolling across a screen. Though you’ve always wondered how accurate it is compared to the real thing.

- It’s funny to think how long we’ve been talking and I’ve never actually heard your voice.

- Is that merely an observation, or a suggestion?

Your other datapad for your business life lays right beside you; Which thankfully has yet to alert you to Llenya sending her new draft. She probably won’t get it done tonight, leaving you with the evening free.

- Either? Whatever you prefer.

Maybe it’s the mystery of it all, but you can’t recall a time someone’s ever had you so on your toes like this. You said you didn’t mind, but you would be lying if you weren’t incredibly curious to hear him, and see how accurate your guess has been thus far.

- Someone is sleeping in the seat beside me, let me tell him to leave first.

Even if no one can see you, you can’t help the way you visibly jolt as if instinct to get up and stop him.

- Don’t do that!

He doesn’t respond for about three minutes, so you assume he hadn’t listened to you.

After that short amount of time he signals his return to his datapad with a call; But you’re unable to stop yourself from letting it ring one or two times before answering. Normally someone would say hello, but given what he’d presumably just done you open with shaking your head and saying:

“You are a cold, cold man, for doing that to someone.”

“It would not be the first time someone has called me cold. Being of a methodical mindset seems to evoke such a comment.”

…

Oh kark, right; I need to speak.

“O-oh yeah? I hope you pushed him in the direction of an actual bed instead of another chair.”

His voice…

It’s distinctly not as you had it in your head, giving you a healthy bit of surprise of the pleasant kind.

“Proper beds are in quite short supply when on duty unfortunately. He prefers sleeping partly upright apposed to the traditional approach as well.” It is easy to forget he is on duty at times, with how often you speak.

“Well, I hope you aren’t busy.” After you speak you reach up to your hair and pull out a stray pin you must’ve missed, setting it on your bedside table.

“I am no more occupied than I normally am at this time. Though at the moment I have time to work on something I’ve been meaning to finish.”

His voice could put me to sleep in an instant. But… In a good way. Not boring.

“Have I been distracting you?” There’s a soft clang, the gentle sound of metal on metal. You’re not entirely surprised he’s working on something of the mechanical sort. “I am more than capable of having my attention split between multiple different activities.”

What a charming way to say I’m not bugging you.

“Well, then what are you working on?” There’s more clanking and shuffling, and the sound of him letting out a quiet noise of effort while reaching over to grab something. “It would take quite awhile to explain.” He obviously can’t see the slight pout your lips form when you don’t get an actual answer. You’re curious; Every time you’ve asked he’s always been making some sort of wacky or amazing thing, you never know what he’s going to be working on next.

“I don’t mind. I’m curious.” Much to your surprise he’s actually somewhat quiet for a moment, as if he’s trying to think of what to say. You can’t hear much movement either, unlike before.

“It’s a heat signature modification for a helmet display, By the time I am finished with it, it should be able to see heat from up to half a klick away.”

Wow, you think; Before you remember to vocalize it.

“Wow Tech, that sounds impressive.”

He gives a nonchalant sounding hum, before speaking up.

“Not particularly. It’s mostly a mundane upgrade I simply haven’t gotten around to doing.”

You can’t quite tell if he’s shrugging off your compliment, or if he genuinely didn’t pick up that you even gave him one. The ladder seems to be more common with him. After going silent for a moment, the sound of metal hitting each other cues you in enough that he’s probably working on another bit of his project. Eventually however, he finally speaks up.

“You, said you were attending an event?”

You perk up, nodding despite him not being able to see you.

“Yeah, it was for work.” You sigh. “Thankfully that fiasco is all over.”

While still shuffling around, Tech adjusts his datapad enough that it makes a small noise.

“Judging by the tone of your voice, I am going to assume it was not an event which you had wanted to attend?”

The understatement of the night.

You don’t exactly feel like indulging your work to him given it’s sensitive nature, so you round it about with a chuckle. As well as the fact that you'd rather just forget about it for the night, while you have the ability to.

“Yeah, putting it lightly.”

Tech doesn’t ask you about it again thankfully, and instead you both chatting back and forth for a good while, and listening to the sounds of him work in-between. It’s oddly soothing; There’s something about listening to him just explain what he’s working on and answer your silly questions that’s incredibly relaxing. You could do this for hours; But if you did, the morning would likely end up shining through your windows soon enough. And you know without a shadow of a doubt, you’re going to have an overwhelming load of work to do.

“Is much as I’d like to stick around, I should probably sleep.” He doesn’t stop working for a moment, hearing the sound of a spanner sparking against metal.

“Very well. Be sure to get adequate rest; And,” His voice halts for only the briefest moment. “I will speak to you tomorrow.” That makes you smile, before you turn off your datapad. Talk about good luck being able to end what would normally be a terrible night off on a good note, you think.

Sleep ends up coming easily, though it’s hard for your brain to not replay your conversation in your head a few times, before you eventually do nod off.

[silver-pieces]

mandalorian’s mercy part nine

Previously ‘Are You Cold?’

Pairing: Alpha!Din x (afab) omega!fem!reader

Word Count: 7k

Synopsis: Yearning, desire, and consequences.

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, smut (MF, masturbation, dirty talk, omegaverse heats & ruts, breeding kink, sub/dom dynamic) a/b/o dynamics, tw: food

A/N: I just want to say again, thankyou to everyone for all of the love & support on this fic, it has made me so so happy 💕. I’m planning to post part 10, the finale, soon. As always, if you like my writing, please reblog. I hope you enjoy...

Divider ❊ Masterlist ❊ More Din ❊ Taglist

Part Eight < Series Masterlist > Part Ten

You’re thinking about him again.

In your hand sits the communicator Din gave you, the smooth curved shape now so familiar it’s etched in your brain. Your thumb runs over the buttons as you let your mind wander, drifting off to memories of him, of your Alpha, the attractive sound of his deep laughter and the warm secure grip of his hand around your waist.

A soft nudge to your side takes you out of it. “Hey.”

You blink. “Sorry, Anuma.” Shit. You run your hand over your face and stifle a groan. There’s still so much work to be done.

The Twi’lek sitting next to you knows better than to touch you again, but she peers at you with those sharp, discerning eyes, and although most of her features are masked, somehow you know she’s frowning. “You need to nest.”

A pang of fear goes through you. That word. You shake your head. “No, no, I’m not there yet.”

“Fine.” She sighs. “Take the water out then, you’re clearly of no use in here anymore.”

Heat rushes to your face. You look down at the table; the large pile of coin that should have already been counted up and stashed away still untouched. You stand and back away from the corner desk. “Sorry. I’ll - water...”

She regards you with a disapproving look, then turns back to the task, shaking her head and muttering to herself in Twi’leki.

You step up to the kitchen sink, the sound of clicking credits filling the room as she takes over your job.

Her office is still nothing but a small corner desk and a safe tucked into the nook of the kitchen. It’s makeshift, but there’s so many other things in this den that take priority when it comes to upgrades.

The kitchen itself has been a massive project, a job that took you most of the month to complete. Now, setting your eyes on the results of your hard work, you feel hopeful. It’s not great, but it’s a lot better than before.

The tap water is luxuriously cool. You splash some on your face to cool down, providing a brief respite from the heat clawing beneath your skin. You stare at your flushed reflection in the water and try not to burst into tears, or laughter.

The mood-swings that accompany your heat seem worse than last time. It’s incredibly draining, helping out with the den, one minute feeling happy and flirty and lighter than air, and the next, yearning for your Alpha hitting you like a punch to the gut until you feel like sinking to the floor and crying your eyes out.

No, it wasn’t like this last time. Last time, you were freshly off the blockers. This time, you’ve had a whole month without them.

As you go to leave the room with the tray in hand, Anuma blocks your path, a bottle of pills in her hand. “Please, take one.”

You brush her aside. “We’ve had this conversation.”

“There’s no need to torture yourself without an Alpha.”

You grit your teeth, hand on the doorknob, wishing she wouldn’t call it torture. “Save it for someone in need.” You open the door and step out.

“And what will your Alpha think?”

You halt midstep, some of the water spilling over the edges of the cups. Stars dammit, why did you ever tell her about what happened with Din?

She rounds you, arms crossed. The cloying scent of incense fills your lungs. “You already lied to him about your location, what do you think he’s going to do when he - ”

“It’s not about him,” you protest.

She gives you a look.

You sigh, gripping the tray a little tighter. “When I see those blockers, I see myself a month ago, completely unprepared to go into heat and desperate for blockers which you didn’t have. Sure, I had a trustworthy Alpha in the end, but what about the next Omega who walks through those doors?”

She casts her gaze down to the floor and sighs.

“I came here to help,” you continue. “So, please, stop tempting me with them. We only have a limited supply.”

She hesitates, before pocketing them. “I just... don’t want to see you in pain.” Flicking her eyes back up to you, you see a vulnerable side of her she rarely allows anyone to see.

You force the part of you that’s afraid deep down, and square your shoulders. “We set up the nests for this very situation. I promise, I’ll be fine.”

You already lied to him about your location - 

You push her voice out of your head. You can’t think about that, not without being sucked into a downward spiral of anxiety and guilt and hormones.

People take water from the tray as you make the rounds through the den. Though the room itself is fairly big, it’s overflowing with Betas and Omegas seeking refuge every night. Still, the place has been improved a lot over the past few weeks.

For one, it smells a lot nicer now. Where there was once a dirt floor and simple fabric partitions, there’s now clean beds and privacy screens.

Your tray is light as you reach one of the employees, an Omega woman who showed up a few days ago and has been working here since. She never gave anyone her name, but you feel like you can trust her, like her eyes convey an air of strength and certainty.

She’s folding sheets and humming when you find her.

“Hey you, thirsty?” you say as you approach with the tray.

She stiffens, then turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “It’s you.”

“What?”

“That tangy scent,” she says, approaching to take a drink. “Normally we’ve relocated any Omega that smells like that into one of the nests. Are you sure you should be here, boss?”

“Not the boss,” you insist.

She shrugs, lifting the cup to her lips and taking a long drink.

You shift on your feet. “I don’t want to nest,” you confess. “It doesn’t feel right.”

Finishing the water, she sets the empty cup back on the tray and wipes her mouth. “You want my advice, boss?”

You nod.

She looks at you straight. “Stop waiting for it to feel right. Omegas cannot afford to be picky, and a nest is never going to feel right without an Alpha to make it for.”

An Alpha to make it for. Your knees go a little weak, and you can’t help the way your thoughts flick to him again. That’s it, little Omega. Make me another nest. His voice, clear as day.

A bolt of heat lunges through your veins. It’s sudden and brutal, and you gasp in pain. “Oh - stars!” The scent of your slick permeates the air.

“Shhhit,” the Omega curses, lifting the tray from your hands. “I think it’s here, boss. Come on and we’ll get you to a nest.”

Your stomach turns. She leads you away from the den, towards the back door which used to be a storage room. Now cleared and divided into private nesting spaces, it serves as a place for Omegas in heat to retreat to. Maker willing, the den would always have enough blockers to prevent anyone from going into heat, but there are always situations outside of your control.

The makeshift nests are designed to be scentless and comfortable, but also practical and cost-efficient. The intention behind it was to ease the pain of an untended Omega in heat, but now, all you feel is insulted as you’re lowered into one by the girl who calls you boss.

Nests are instinctual - special. You never made one before Din.

“No, it’s not right,” you gasp, sweating with heat and aching to your core. “Not without him here.”

“Try and sleep through it,” she says, fixing the sheets of the nest in a way which annoys you.

“Won’t help,” you murmur, curling in on yourself as a cramp hits you, and already you feel your eyes pricking with tears. “I’ll just dream about him.” Like you’ve been doing every night since you left him.

She narrows her eyes at you, standing up. “Who is ‘he’?”

Tears wet your cheeks. “Just an Alpha.”

“Ah.” Pity flashes in her eyes.

“What, no advice on how to get through this without him?”

She shrugs. “I wouldn’t know.”

You nod and curl back in on yourself. Her scent isn’t offensive, but like most Omega scents, it doesn’t appeal to you, and you find having her here both irritates you and distracts you from your heat.

“You know the drill,” she says from the doorway. “Meals will be delivered through the hatch. There’ll be morning checkups, so try to cover up after breakfast. And try and keep the noise down if you can.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Leave me alone now.

She shuts the door.

You bury your face into the stiff, odourless pillow and let out a whine. Heat floods between your legs. Your channel contracts around nothing, and your muscles tense and groan in dissatisfaction.

You’ve been through your heat without an Alpha before, but this time is different. This time, you know what you’re missing. You have memories to torture yourself with.

It’s too late to go on blockers now. You chose this. But you didn’t expect this level of desperation and pain so soon, so brutal. Fuck.

Soon, the heat gets too much, so you divest yourself of your clothes and dig yourself further into the nest, rubbing your needy scent on the sheets as much as possible.

Time loses meaning.

The room is dark and bare and silent.

The memory of his scent calls to you - a phantom scent that you remember well now that it’s missing.

It hurts.

It hurts so much that you feel paralysed by the pain and the discomfort, unable to move until there’s a knock on the door and food pushed through the hatch.

The scent of dinner food crawls over your skin and invades your nostrils, causing your instincts to go haywire. Wrong.

The thought of eating is about as unappetising as it could possibly get, but there’s a quiet, filtered voice in your head that reminds you that you need to keep your energy up, so you wolf it down in miserable silence and then shove the empty plate back through the door and lean forward to rest your head on the cool durasteel, temporarily abandoning your nest.

You breathe deeply, trying to calm your emotions, but the urge to cry is getting harder to resist. It’s hard to believe you’re only a few hours into this torture.

When the food has settled and you’ve cooled down as much as possible, you turn back to your nest, eyeing it in the dim light with disdain.

Your clothes lay strewn to the side, discarded over your nest in a way that feels unsatisfying. You’re not sure it will help, but maybe if you incorporate them into the nest properly...

Your hands move quickly as you fixate on the task you’ve given yourself. There’s enough slick slowly dripping between your legs that you decide to avoid putting your nice clothes in that region, instead opting to layer the fabrics nearer to your head so you can breathe in the scent more. It’s no Alpha scent, but it calms the territorial side of you to mark this place as your own.

Your hand catches on an object in one of the pockets in your clothes. The circular device can only be one thing - the communicator Din gave you.

Din.

A wave of sudden need hits you, overcoming everything else, and you find yourself abandoning your task, eagerly taking the communicator out of the clothes and propping it on a pillow almost reverently.

With a press of a button, the device lights up and you’re able to go through your encrypted messages. You bite your lip, anticipation rising.

Are you safe?

The latest message from Din, sent tonight, appears on the screen.

You melt at his words, and for that matter, slick is gushing from your pussy worse than before. You have to close your eyes and breathe through the pain for a moment.

The same message has been sent to you every day, but it never comes at exactly the same time, which is why you’ve resorted to carrying it around with you. It’s become your most treasured possession, the damned device burning a hole in your pocket as you help run the den.

Shit, the timecode indicates this was sent hours ago. This might just be the longest you’ve gone without responding. And if Din suspects something is wrong, he might try to find you on Minnoth.

Those thoughts are vague, distant worries that briefly concern you before you get swept up in your heat again. Your mind whirls, your instincts screaming at you Alpha, Alpha, Alpha, and your finger hovers over a second button. The forbidden one. The one he told you not to touch unless it was an emergency. Live holo.

This is an emergency, the hormonal side of you argues.

But then he’ll find out. He’ll know you didn’t go on blockers, and he’ll know you left Minnoth. He might come looking for you.

Your thighs squeeze together at the thought, because fuck, the thought of him coming for you is enticing, and suddenly you’re struggling to remember why you shouldn’t press the button.

It’s not encrypted, Din will freak out, and besides, you’re supposed to be avoiding talking to each other as much as possible. All very logical, important arguments.

But right now, you don’t care about any of that. There’s a deep, instinctual feeling within you, urging you to call him and tell him everything.

Your Alpha will make everything okay.

You press the button before you can talk yourself out of it.

“Stars, what am I doing?” you mutter to yourself, as you wait for him to pick up. Your mind’s gone blank, and you can’t remember why the little voice in your head is crying this is a mistake! Dread grows in your gut, but so does excitement, and need.

Then the hologram finally lights up, bathing the room in a soft electric glow.

Your breath stops as you take in the image of Din, live. He’s clearly sitting, leant forward over his holo, wearing nothing but a loose undershirt and his helmet.

“Omega?” comes his voice, urgent and gruff, and you could weep with happiness. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You go to speak, but can’t find the words. You’re sitting in your nest, all alone and in heat, slick seeping into the sheets beneath you. He can probably see your nakedness. Fuck, it’s really him. “Din,” you breathe, taking the communicator and laying back into your nest, “I miss you.”

There’s silence for a second. His chest rises and falls. “Why did you call me?” he finally says.

You whimper, and a few tears slide down your face. “I need you. Need you here, with me.” In my nest.

He huffs a breath. “Omega.” There’s a growl in his tone that sends shivers down your spine.

You moan as a fresh gush of slick begins, and shift your legs and arch your back on instinct. “Oh...”

“Are you...”

“Yes?” You turn your head back to the holo, to him. He’s leaning closer now, like he’s trying to see you better.

“Are you in heat?”

“Yes,” you repeat, and let out an involuntary sob. The tears have started now, and they probably won’t stop for a while yet.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and the holo shakes and blurs as he moves on the bed. “Fuck.” His voice comes out muffled.

“Din?” Your anxiety grows, that little voice warning you in the back of your head that you did something wrong. But you can’t remember what. You need to see him again. You lean in closer to the holo, biting your lip. “Din I - I need to see you, please - ”

“I’m coming,” he says, but his voice sounds farther away. A few seconds later, the image stabilises, and you can see him sitting in the pilot’s chair, operating the control panel. “Fucking stars, Omega, wait for me.” He operates the ship, urgently tapping buttons and flicking switches. “I’m a day away from Minnoth - shit. Don’t let anyone else in. Where are you staying?”

You bite your lip.

“Omega, answer me. Where are you?” he growls, using his Alpha command. It’s supposed to be less effective on calls, but you still feel the urge to obey coming over you.

“I’m at the Omega Den,” you confess shakily. “On Coruscant.”

He growls. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” you whimper.

He rears back a little. “I don’t understand. Yesterday you said you were safe.”

“I was - I am - but I - ”

“You think you’re safe at the den, without blockers,” he finishes for you, a growl in his voice that hints his disagreement.

You nod. “I helped set this place up.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not making sense.”

“Sorry,” you say, heat rushing to your face. It’s hard to think properly - everything would be so much better if he was here. “Can you come?”

He shifts focus back to the operating panel, switching buttons as though to change course. After a few moments, he leans back in his seat and you can see him take a deep breath by the rise and fall of his chest. He shakes his head and murmurs low, “Coruscant is three days away.”

Your heart sinks. “Oh.”

“Fuck, little thief,” he growls, running a hand down his helmet.

A whimper escapes you, your insides clenching. He’s mad, and it’s your fault.

Shaking his head, he leans forward and flicks a few more buttons. His voice comes out distant as he leans away from the holo. “I’m setting the Razor to a hard burn. You stay inside until I get to you, okay? It’s not safe.”

“Okay,” you nod, trying to sound not as broken as you feel. “Are you angry with me? I just thought...” You moan as the needy ache in your core grows unbearable again. The pain is getting worse, causing your breaths to come out short and shallow as you twist and writhe in the nest, losing sight of the holo.

“Omega?” His voice is muffled again - distant. But warmth spreads through you at the sound. “Omega - talk to me.”

In heat and vulnerable, you stand no chance against his commands. “Din?” you call out. Your eyes open, and you catch sight of him again.

He’s sitting on the edge his bunk from the looks of it, bracing his elbows on his knees in a way that makes his biceps tense. “I’m right here,” he growls. “Talk to me.”

“Okay,” you breathe, eyes straying around the room. “Uh, I made a fucking terrible nest.”

“You nested?”

“Wasn’t my idea,” you murmur, picking at the sheets and rubbing your thighs together.

He growls. “Whose idea was it?”

“Anuma’s.”

“Who is Anuma?”

Your core clenches at his possessive tone. “Friend,” you whimper. “Beta.”

“Fuck.” The hologram shakes slightly, Din’s arm reaching down out of frame to his lower body, and you instantly realise he’s feeling himself.

Your body burns with need. “Alpha,” you cry out, half aware and half in a delirious state of heat and pain. The nest feels too hot and too cold at the same time, but you know it would all go away if Din was here, covering your body possessively with his, scenting you with his pheromones.

You turn over onto all fours and raise your ass up into the air, legs spread wide, without even thinking about it. “Din...”

He grunts, and you hear him shifting positions, but in your movement you lost track of the holo again. “Are you fucking presenting right now, Omega? Move the holo so I can see you better.”

Your eyes fly open. Where is it? You don’t want to move from your position - but you need to obey your Alpha. You scramble through your nest until you find the source of the glow, and whimper as you set your eyes on him again.

He’s shifted the view of the holo down, and you are so consumed by the sudden sight of his fist around his cock it sends a rush of slick to your cunt.

“Please, please, I need it,” you whimper, desperately following the movement of his hand up and down his length. “I’m so wet.”

“Fuck yes,” he groans. He jerks his fist faster, forearm tensing deliciously with the movement. “Fucking best feeling ever, pushing inside your wet cunt.”

Your body clenches, a whine pouring from your throat before you can stop yourself.

“I know,” he pants, “I know, Omega, it’s killing me too.”

“Need you inside me!”

“Show me.”

You blink at his order, then move, twisting onto your back and then taking the holo down your body, pointing it towards your pussy. You move so fast you barely even register what you’re doing - everything is on autopilot now, nothing except your heat and your Alpha. With your legs spread open, you give him a clear view of the wetness between your legs. “Can you see?”

You peer at him, and while you’ve been moving, so has he. He’s kneeling, the position perfect for him to hold his cock out in front and jerk himself off, the display giving you an up-close view of his hips, pelvis, and thighs.

“Yes,” is all he says, the word a deep grunt. He’s going faster now, furiously fucking his fist to the holo of you, and your legs spread wider for him.

The sight is erotic. You can almost feel each thrust as he begins jerking his pelvis, fucking into his fist. The knot at the base, already swelling, teasing you so bad your cunt feels ridiculously empty.

“Please fuck me,” you beg desperately, tears welling in your eyes again. “Please, Alpha.”

He growls in response, the sound broken up by the jerking of his hips, and it almost sends you over the edge. “Touch yourself,” he commands.

You instantly put your hand on your pussy and run a finger through your slick. Jolts of electric bliss emulate through you, and you start going faster, working yourself frantically, needing more more more - 

“Greedy,” your Alpha says, jerking himself off to the sight. He sounds both furious and amused and your body reacts, like it does to everything he says, with more slick.

“Not enough,” you breathe.

“I know.”

“Need your knot, Alpha.”

“Keep going.” He sounds desperate now, and it sends shivers down your spine. He's big and hard and ready to knot you and the sight is an exquisite torture.

You moan, circling your clit and spreading your legs as wide as you can for him. “Cum. Cum inside me.”

“Fuck yes, Maker,” he groans. “Want to knot and breed you, Omega. Fill you up with me, sink my teeth in your neck, split you apart on my knot - ”

“Din.” You start to come, realising he’s gone into rut and it’s exactly what your inner Omega wants more than anything. You lose your grip on the holo but it doesn’t matter because you can still hear his deep groan when he comes as well, sending you further into bliss.

As you ride it out together, he rambles praises and promises like an Alpha in rut is compelled to do, and it’s perfect.

Mentally, you’re in bliss. Physically, however, you’ve never felt emptier.

Laying in your nest in the aftermath, you blink slowly and reach around to find the holo again.

He’s standing now, peeling off his shirt and shifting things around the space as though getting ready for a rut.

When he turns back to the holo, he catches you watching him, and growls, leaning down towards you. “Again?”

With a shiver, you nod.

Across holo, you tease orgasms out of each other, one after another, until you’re soaked in ineffective pheromones and sweat.

First on all fours, presenting. Then kneeling so he can see your tits. Now on your back again because you’re getting exhausted. He gets off on the commands, and you get off on obeying them.

“That’s five, little thief.” Din pants.

You lift your hand from your slick pussy and try not to wince as another wave of heat overcomes you for a moment, filling you with nausea and desperation. You need more, but your inner muscles feel abused and sore from your meagre fingers.

A tear falls down the side of your face. “Why aren’t you here, Alpha?”

He sucks in a breath. “Omega...”

“I know.” You wipe your tear away and roll over in your nest, burying your face in your own scent. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

You bite your lip and roll over again to face him in the holo. He’s laying down, naked except for his helmet, watching you. “But I’ve fucked everything up.”

“Omega, don’t.” He sounds torn. “Not while I can’t be there to comfort you.”

More tears fall, even as you wipe them away. “Fuck, I’m sorry. My hormones are a mess without you.”

He groans and rolls on his back, looking up at the ceiling. “When I find you, we can talk. Exchange stories. And I will want to know. Everything, Omega.”

You nod solemnly.

“But, right now?” His voice lowers. “I couldn’t give a fuck about any of it. I missed you.”

Your heart soars.

The sound of someone knocking on the door interrupts you. The hatch opens and a food tray slides through. "Hey boss, breakfast.”

Breakfast time already? It feels like the time has flown by, and yet, there’s still so much more of this you have to go through without your Alpha. Two and a half fucking days. Any appetite you may have built up leaves you at the thought. You push yourself up to look at the dish.

“What is it?” Din asks.

You lay back down in your nest, peeking up at your holo. “Nothing, just breakfast.”

He snaps his head toward you instantly, and his voice comes out a growl. “Someone saw you?”

A rush of heat floods through you at his tone, and you quickly shake your head, shifting your legs to relieve the pressure between them. “No, no, there’s a food hatch.”

“At the den? Where are the others?” He doesn’t sound convinced.

“It’s okay,” you start, giving into the urge to please your Alpha as much as possible. It’s impossible to ignore how attractive his growing protectiveness is. You’re struggling to form sentences, too distracted by hormones stirring up your heat. “They have private nest spaces now, in case of emergency.” You bite your lip and shift in your nest. Maker he looks so broad and strong laying out on his bunk, one arm bent back behind his head, flexing his bicep. When you see him next, you’re going to bite him.

“Smart,” he grunts in response, sounding slightly more relaxed.

“I need you to fuck me.” The words are out of your mouth before you can think about it.

His growl is instant, and dangerously low, and you watch in eager anticipation as he leans over and grabs the holo, staring at you through his visor. “You need to eat your breakfast first.”

You sigh. “I knew you’d say that.”

“Then do it, Omega.”

“Why should I? There’s no-one here to make me.”

“Are you disobeying me?”

Oh. You don’t respond, frozen by his words.

“Omega.”

You whimper.

“Eat.”

And just like that, you’re getting up to retrieve the tray. As you return and sit back down in front of the holo, a thought crosses your mind, and you pause. “What about you?”

He tilts his head. “I'll be fine.”

You frown. “But you need to eat too.”

“I don’t want to leave you. Not while you’re in heat.”

Your heart melts for him, but you can’t let him get away with this. As you slip a spoonful of breakfast gruel into your mouth, you summon all the dominance you can muster while in heat, swallow, and glare at him. “You’re in rut, too, if I’m not mistaken. Cover the holo while you eat, and I’ll talk to you so you know I’m still there.”

He tilts his head at your display, folding his arms. “You’re cute. I’ll be fine.”

You glare harder, but maker, he’s stubborn. You sigh, and, tapping into your Omega nature, beg. “Please, Alpha?” you ask, giving him pleading eyes. “I need you to keep up your strength for me.”

He stares at you silently, but you notice his arms losing a little of their stiffness.

“Please,” you beg again.

He gives a shake of his head, and sighs. “Don’t... don’t beg like that... that is unfair.”

You laugh. “Good to know.”

“Eat your breakfast.” The holo goes shaky as he gets off the bunk. “I’ll get something now.”

“And you’ll stay on the call?”

“Yes.”

You watch the holo closely as you eat. There’s something so domestically fulfilling about eating together, and like watching one of the most interesting holovids in your life, you end up absent-mindedly snack on your breakfast food while watching him methodically prepare his meal with all the precision of the bounty hunter who tracked you down in that backwater hotel.

By the time he sits down to eat, you’re almost finished, setting the food tray aside.

He speaks to you gently. “I’m covering the holo, but we can still talk.”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He reaches for the holo, and then the image disappears.

You lean in. “Din?” You call, just to check

“Yes,” comes the low sound of his voice.

You smile, and lay back in your nest.

“Talk to me, Omega.”

Wandering your hands along the fabrics of the nest, you close your eyes and imagine you’re next to him. But when you open your eyes, he’s still not there, and it hurts. Sighing, you roll onto your front and stare at the blank device.

“I thought about calling you every day, but the live holo... you said someone could track it?”

It takes a moment for him to respond. “Yeah, they might.”

Your stomach clenches. Ending contact with him is not an option you can even consider, and yet, you worry. “Am I... in danger?”

The clattering of cutlery crackles through the speaker. “No.” The speaker picks up a slight catch in his breath. “I hope not.”

He’s worried. Concern overtakes you at the thought, and suddenly you’re thinking clearly. “You know what, yeah, it will be okay. We set up protections here, even if someone does... come looking.” You nod confidently to yourself.

“Protections?”

The curiosity in his tone makes you perk up. “You want me to tell you about them?”

You can hear the slight smile in his voice as he response. “Yes I do, little thief. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”

Heat rushes to your face, and like a criminal confessing, you begin to explain in detail all the various projects you’ve been working on over the past few weeks without him.

All conversation ends as soon as Din reappears in the holo. You’re a whimpering, needy Omega in heat, and as he sees your reaction, he growls out a command. “Present.”

Stars, you’ll never get used to his voice, even through the vocoder and over holovid, and even without the command, you would eagerly obey him.

But as you go to position yourself on all fours for him, a gentle knock sounds on the door.

You freeze.

“What is it?” your Alpha growls, his thickened, hard cock taking up the entire frame of the holo as he strokes it up and down.

More raps against the door. “Boss? You covered up? It’s checkup time, I’m coming in...”

Shit! Checkups after breakfast, how could you forget? Your eyes dart around the nest as you take in the scene. Maybe it wouldn’t matter if they knew you about the holo, but the territorial side of you doesn’t like it, and right now, that’s the part that’s in control.

There’s a beeping as the Omega on the other side of the door punches in the unlocking code.

Your insides clench, because fuck, your Alpha will have to wait. “Just a moment!” you call out, sitting up and scrambling to get things in order.

“Omega.”

You snatch the holo and hold it close to your mouth so you can whisper. “They’re coming in to check up on me.”

“What? Who?”

“Omega. I don’t know her name, but I trust her.”

He growls. “You don’t need her.”

“I know.”

“You need me.”

“I know, Alpha,” you breath, your hormones flaring at his possessiveness. “I’ll get rid of her as soon as possible, but they won’t leave without doing a proper checkup.”

He jerks his head, as if trying to come to terms with this. You can see the tendons in his neck tense as he clenches his jaw.

You bite your lip to keep your reaction at bay.

“Fuck. I can’t stop it,” he growls angrily, “...but if she touches you, Omega, I will kill her.”

Maker. “She won’t,” you assure him breathlessly.

He nods, and you see the image of him move as though he’s walking around, pacing as he watches.

You tuck the communicator beneath a fold in your nest, and the holo image of Din disappears. Your stomach drops in despair at not being able to see your Alpha, so deep into your heat.

Lifting the thinnest sheet on your overheated form, you clear your throat and call out to the Omega.

“Come in.”

With a beep and a click, the door slides open, and the Omega who calls you boss stares down at you with a raised eyebrow. “Bad time?” she asks.

“Always.” Your pussy gives out a needy throb, missing the attention you were about to give it moments earlier.

She snorts. “I’ll be quick then. You okay?”

You nod.

“Good.” She spreads her hands out, open. “Anything you need, now’s the time.”

“I’m fine,” you start to say, before eyes widening as you remember something. “No-one has come asking for me, have they?”

She frowns. “No... You expecting someone?”

You breath a sigh of relief. “No, no, just paranoid. Thanks.”

“Right,” she nods, eyeing you curiously, before turning to go. “I’ll keep an ear out.” And with a slap of her hand on the number pad, the door slides shut again.

You move instantly, frantically fumbling through the nest for the communicator. The holo lights up with the image of him pacing back and forth with his form tense, arms folded, and head lowered.

“Din,” you breathe, the needy ache between your legs growing.

He stops pacing and snaps his head towards you.

You swallow. “She’s gone.”

He comes close to the holo until only his lower stomach is in view, his hardness standing at attention. “Present,” he snarls.

His dominance sends a rush of slick between your legs, a whine rising in your throat. You follow your natural instinct to present, getting on all fours, arching your back down low, and spreading your legs so he can see everything.

For a moment he says nothing, and there’s just the static sound of his panting.

Is he stroking himself? “Alpha, please,” you moan, slick running down the inside of your thigh.

“You want my cock inside you, don’t you?”

“Yes!” you tip your head back, rocking yourself on all fours. “Please!”

“Fuck, so do I. I want it so bad and you’re right there and I can’t.”

You rock back more, whimpering. “I’m so empty.”

He groans.

“Please, Alpha, please.”

“Just... just finger yourself.”

Disappointment floods through you, even though you know it’s the best you can do for yourself right now. Stiffly, you reach a hand between your legs.

“Show me your slick.”

You part your pussy more for him and run a finger through it.

“Fuck. I have to taste you again.”

You bury your face into the nest as your fingers begin working your pussy. “Oh.” A moan escapes you.

“When I find you,” he pants, “I’m going to have you against a wall again.”

You moan louder.

“And then bent over something.”

“Yes.”

“Closest fucking waist-high surface,” he snarls.

You grit your teeth as a wave of pleasure moves through you. “Oh fuck, oh please!”

“My teeth on your fucking neck.”

Bliss fills your body at the thought. “Claiming me,” you breathe. “I want you to.”

“Uh huh,” he grunts.

“I mean it, Din. It’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks.” And it has been. The entire time you’ve been away from him, all you’ve been thinking about, is being with him again. It feels like where you belong, and you’ve been dying not being able to tell him in person.

“Me too,” he rumbles, voice low and soft, and warmth blooms within your chest. “Me too, little thief. I...”

You swallow back your relief. Thank the stars, you would never have had the courage to just come out and say it if you weren’t in heat, but now, he knows, and he still wants it too.

“I’m so close,” you moan.

“I see that,” he pants.

You spread your legs wider for him. “It’s all for you, Alpha. All of it.”

“Shit,” he curses, panting louder. “Then come for me, Omega. That’s an order.”

You reach the peak of your orgasm with a cry of his name, submitting to his order like the good Omega you want to be for him.

“Ah, fuck, I need to be inside you,” he groans and pants as he comes, and you look down between your legs to see him on the holo, his cock still in frame as he grips his knot, bent forward kneeling on the bunk and shooting his seed onto his sheets.

A second orgasm wracks through your body at the sight. What you wouldn’t give to receive his spend inside you right now and fulfil exactly what your body is craving. Instead, you can only watch in desire and despair as it all goes to waste.

As your legs give out, you roll over onto your front, perching the holo on a pillow in front of you. Din has his head buried in his sheets, and as you watch, he pushes himself back up into a kneeling position, his bare chest glistening with sweat. His cock is already hard again.

“I meant it,” you say.

The blue pixels of the holo shift with slight movement of his helmet. He nods. “So did I.”

The aftermath of your heat comes too fast and too slow all at once. You could talk to Din for days and not get bored, but you’ve been breathing in nothing but your own pheromones and scent for days, and your skin is crawling with the urge to shower.

So when your new Omega friend knocks on the door next, you finally muster up the energy to get up.

All of your sheets are stained with slick. Without much else choice, you find the least offensive one and wrap it around your sore, naked form, and trawl your way through the den.

It’s not until after your shower that you remember your communicator is still in the nest.

You rush back, fully dressed and cleaned, and rummage through the nest until you find it - out of charge.

It’s unclear in your memory when exactly the holo cut out, between talking to Din, or during your sleep, but your heart hammers in your chest at the thought of Din seeing the holo end for no reason, and realising you were gone.

You plug it in to charge and wait anxiously for it to turn back on.

Finally it lights up, and you find a message waiting for you.

Stay.

You almost laugh.

I’m not a dog, you respond back, and then add, Yes, Alpha.

“Boss? Boss!”

You turn around and find the new Omega rushing into the room, eyes wide. “There’s a Mandalorian here to see you. An Alpha.”

You stand. “Did you see him?”

She shakes her head. “Anuma warned me. She’s talking to him now, I think.”

You nod. “Best to stay inside.”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” she asks. “The Alpha you were mumbling about in your heat? He’s here for you.”

Heat rushes to you face, and you brush past her. “Maybe.” You hope so. “Go to the others. No-one goes in or out until Anuma gives the go ahead. Full lockdown, just in case, okay?”

She nods, getting that hard look in her eyes, and turns down the hall on your orders.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. Then, closing your eyes, you try and slow your heart beating its way out of your chest. If it’s Din outside... fuck it. You can’t bear another second behind this door.

You push down the handle and step outside. The air isn’t much better than within, and as you fill your lungs with that familiar dirt-poor street scent, you pick up the calming tones of Anuma’s beta scent, and then, the Alpha’s.

Your eyes fly open.

Paz Vizsla stands on the darkened street, one hand on his blaster as he talks down to a very furious looking Anuma.

“I have no interest in shutting down your operation.”

“What operation?” Anuma shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It happens suddenly - the breeze shifts, and the bounty hunter catches your scent. He stiffens and raises his visor towards you, noticing you peeking out from the door.

Fuck.

Then, movement out of the corner of your eye - a second figure emerges from the shadows.

There’s a scar down his face, but in the light, you immediately recognise him.

Cold fear runs down your spine. It’s the Alpha, the one who came to collect you. You should run.

A wicked growl erupts from his chest. He grins. “There she is.”

Paz glances back at him, and nods.

Part Eight < Series Masterlist > Part Ten

[yoitsjay]

Not my gif, found on pintrest

Hazard Response Squad

Pairings: none

Summary: Hazards introduction to my little blog, enjoy thirsty hoe's.

Warnings: cannon clone wars violence, use of Y/n, Hazard's perspective.

Word count: 1,250

Hazard Devider made by @moosgraphics

Blasterfire, screams, shouts of pain or shouts of orders filled the surrounding area, Commander Hazard stood at the forefront of the fray, his duel carbine blasters secured tightly in his grip as he crouched behind a large rock and surveyed the battlefield. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid tang of blood and fire, casting an eerie, hazy light over the chaos.

“Commander, it's Palo, we’re getting pinned down near the eastern flank!” shouted one of the clones’ voice crackled through Hazard’s helmet, his voice was strained but resolute through the comm-link. Hazard’s helm tilted slightly as he processed the information, his mind racing with Ideas. He pursed his lip, and grumbled out a command

“Trooper, we can’t afford to lose that position,” Hazard replied, his voice calm yet imbued with an edge of urgency. “Redirect the 3rd squad to reinforce the eastern perimeter. Have them deploy smoke grenades and droid poppers to create cover.”

“Yes, sir!” Palo responded, and Hazard could only hope that Palo managed to secure the eastern flank… Where was Iarni when he needed her?

Lieutenant Ruzze, Hazard’s second-in-command, approached, his face set in a grim expression. “Commander, we’re facing heavier resistance than anticipated. The enemy’s advancing with armored support, and our anti-tank units are running low on ammo.” Ruzze explained to Hazard as he knelt down where Hazard was, laying down some helpful cover fire.

Hazard sighed but nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon where the enemy’s armored vehicles loomed ominously. “What if we divert the reserve platoon to engage those tanks? We need to buy time to reload our own tanks, or get reinforcements.” he suggested. Ruzze hummed, pursing his lips slightly before sliding his bucket back onto his head, his gaze through the visor met Hazard’s with a mixture of respect and concern relayed through body language. “And if we can’t hold them off?”

“Then we fight till the last man is left standing.” Hazard replied, his tone resolute. “But we’re not going to let them break through without a fight. Because the General is coming back and she's gonna bring her fury on these seppies. She won’t let us down.” Hazard stated, hearing Ruzze hum in disbelief. Yet he nodded and rushed back to his other position to enact the new orders

Hazard turned his attention to his combat medic, Lizz, who was helping wounded soldiers to safety. “Lizz, I need you to organize a triage station behind the main lines. Make sure the medics get to the most critical cases first. We can’t afford to lose any more of our own.”

Lizz gave a firm nod in response. “Understood, Commander. Already on it.” the clone medic answered.

With a final, encouraging glance at his battalion, Hazard took a deep breath and braced himself, though just as he was about to step out from his cover rock, a drop ship and several bombers flew overhead, dropping bombs on the approaching separatist tanks, pushing back their efforts and giving Hazard’s men some room to breath.

He stepped out as the dropship landed, and approached as he pulled his helmet off, holding it against his hip as the doors of the ship opened, revealing his yellowed, tall and regal general. She grinned at him, approaching him with someone else by her side. “Commander Hazard, sorry we’re late, the council decided I needed a padawan, so meet Padawan Y/n” Iarni greeted, gesturing to the young adult next to her. Y/n waved, albeit a little shy it seemed, and Hazard nodded his head as a greeting, now walking by his generals side.

“I’m not getting demoted, am i?” He asked teasingly, hearing his Twi’leki general snort. “Of course not, Commander, I can't afford to lose my most trusted Commander.” She replied teasingly. Howzer just rolled his eyes and led her back to the main camp.

“We had to redirect forces to the southern flank, and I sent the reserve platoon to fight off the advancing Tanks.” Hazard explained, stopping once he reached the center of the small camp, Iarni hummed, rubbing her chin for a moment as she thought of a plan. “Alright, you and the padawan will go reinforce the southern flank, our reinforcements will hold the line here, and I will go help take down those tanks.” Iarni stated. Hazard nodded his head.

“Aye aye General, see you when the battle is over.” Hazard grinned, Iarni placed her hand on Hazard’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Be safe, Do aay. And teach my new padawan a thing or two.” Iarni instructed before she walked to the drop ship and took off to reinforce the reserve platoon.

Hazard slid his helmet back onto his head, then turned to the padawan Iarni left behind. “Have you ever been in a battle, kid?” Hazard asked, seeing Y/n glare lightly. “I’m not a kid, and no. But I've been trained for it.” She stated, and hazard hummed.

“Nothing teaches better than the battlefield.” He mused, and gestured for the padawan to follow him and a small squad to the southern flank, where he yet again re-entered the battle. Even though Y/n had little battle experience Hazard wouldn’t lie when he thought they could definitely hold themselves in a battle.

“hey look brothers! It's the Hazard response team!” One of the clone troopers shouted, and a chorus of cheers followed suit. Y/n looked up to Hazard with an eyebrow raised. “Hazard response team?” they asked, and Hazard huffed. “I didn’t name it that, the boys did after my small company keeps saving their asses,” he replied. Y/n just hummed, then jumped forward to continue fighting.

And soon the battle was over, with smoke fading from the sky as fires were put out, and tanks were destroyed. patrols were sent out to defend the perimeter and canyons, though hazard, his company, and Y/n regrouped with General Iarni back at the camp.

Iarni smiled as she turned to look at her commander, and padawan, and bowed in greeting. “Glad to see you both unharmed. Let’s make our way to the city, your men have their new orders.” Iarni stated, and Hazard nodded his head. “Yes General, should I get the drop ship ready?” He asked, and Iarni nodded.

Y/n and Iarni watched as Hazard turned and walked towards the nearby drop ship.

“Well he’s definitely one hell of a fighter.” Y/n mused, and looked up at their master, who just smiled. “he’s more than a fighter, padawan. He's a lover, a caregiver, a brother, and a paternal figure to all the men in our battalion.” Iarni stated, sliding her hands behind her back as she began walking forward with her padawan, who hummed. “A lover huh?” they muttered under their breath, though Iarni just smirked, reaching the drop ship and taking Hazard’s extended hand, since he was offering to help her on board she couldn’t refuse.

Hazard then extended his hand to Y/n, who smiled bashfully as they grabbed his warm firm hand, feeling him pull them up onto the dropship before steadying them beside him as they tumbled slightly.

Iarni raised an eyebrow at Hazard, who just shrugged, making the general snicker, but said nothing else as the drop ship took off towards the planet’s city.

Y/n stared up at their Commander, pursing their lips as they studied him… and…

You couldn’t help but wonder, just what this handsome clone Commander had in store for you.

[mistergreatbones]

You think Hera taught Jacen Ryl/Twi’leki?

[askbensolo]

As it turns out, Rey was 100% the person to go to for the Gaya lore. I holocalled her last night and she told me all about Gaya’s rise to Twi’ktok fame a couple years ago, Gaya’s provocative ad campaign for Big Bantha Dairy that angered parents and conspiracy theorists alike, and, of course, Gaya’s long-standing feud with Tay’lor Spiff. And then the discourse about whether Gaya accurately portrays the Twi’leki experience or if she romanticizes and commodifies a species that has already endured a long history of commodification, and whether Gaya should have released a statement of condemnation when Gaya Girlies started making their own “headtail hats” and cosplaying as Twi’leks.

One of the songs on Gaya’s album is about a special rock from Ryloth called Haneya…except multiple Rylothians have come out and been like, “Yeah, we don’t actually have a legend about an ancestral stone, Gaya totally just made that up.” To which Gaya Girlies responded, “Noooo, you don’t understand, Haneya is actually a metaphor for Gaya herself and how she feels displaced and disconnected from her heritage!!!”

I thought I’d be bored by all this celebrity drama, but I. Am. Fascinated. I haven’t even listened to the full album yet.

I asked Rey if she was a Gaya Girlie. She rolled her eyes and said, “Yeah, right. Only when I was a kid.”

When she was a kid. Right. Classic thirteen-year-old.

I wonder what Fannie thinks about Gaya, being a Rylothian Twi’lek herself. I haven’t talked to Fannie in so long but I feel like she’d have some interesting perspectives. Maybe I’ll message her this week…

[mandos-mind-trick]

About My OC: Lexa Edition

So I said a while ago I wanted to post some stuff about my OCs and I've decided to do it now, starting with my sweet girl Lexa.

If you don't know Lexa, she's from this fic here. Not really necessary to read before this, you could read either first. I'm focusing on her Padawan era right now since that's what we've seen of her story so far. I'll be updating things as I think of them and as her story progresses. Not really in any particular order, I tried to keep them chronological but that got too hard so things jump around a bit lol.

(I am learning to draw right now so I can eventually draw my OCs and you can see what they look like instead of just relying on my garbage descriptions)

About Lexa: 

Born on Ryloth in 38 BBY 

She has light purple skin with darker purple spots everywhere (think like Kit Fisto's spots in the CW show).

She's tall, like most Twi'leks are (like she's almost looking the clones in the eyes when they meet).

Has a traditional Twi’leki name so she shortened it to Lexa for the sake of everyone else

She likes to let people try and pronounce it. She thinks it’s hilarious when they fail horribly. 

Luminara Unduli was the Jedi that discovered her on Ryloth when she was two years old. 

Her parents always wanted the best for her so they let her go.

She doesn’t really remember them since she was so young when she was discovered. 

Baby Lexa was absolutely in awe of Aayla Secura when they first met and followed her around.

She’s two years older than Ahsoka so naturally they were close as younglings. 

Absolutely got up to shenanigans, mostly instigated by Lexa.

Also close with Barriss since Force healing is Lexa's jam.

Was absolutely raging when Ahsoka was being framed for the attack on the temple. She knows Ahsoka wouldn't do something like that.

Was heartbroken over Barriss and Ahsoka's decision to leave, but supported Ahsoka's decision cause she just wants what's best for her friend.

Plo Koon took Lexa on as his Padawan when she was 14, two years before the war started. 

This only brought Lexa and Ahsoka closer and Lexa became a sort of big sister to Ahsoka. 

Plo wouldn’t let Lexa join him on any missions or campaigns for the first few months of the war. (He's secretly glad after what happened with the Malevolence).

Papa Plo loves his Padawan though and absolutely bragged about her to his troops non stop.

Naturally they all know who she is by the time she finally gets to meet them and go on her first mission. 

Wolffe was a bit hesitant at first, after all a literal child is going to join them.

Definitely gets annoyed by her and her excitement upon first meeting.

But after five minutes of knowing her he decides he will shoot anyone and anything that causes her harm. 

She really wins him and the pack over after the battle when he lost his eye. I like to think it happened not long after Lexa joined, and of course she was ready to throw hands with Ventress for hurting him. 

This sweet baby did everything she could for him and he decided then that this is his child and he will protec and he will attac.

Lexa loves the clones as much as Plo and would fight anyone who speaks badly of them.

Wolffe had a full blown panic attack after their first battle because Papa Plo really let this little baby out on the battlefield with no protection but a lightsaber. Unacceptable. (Not that he doubts her skills but he’s heard far too many horror stories from Cody about jedi losing their lightsabers mid-fight.) 

He had armor made specially for her. She doesn’t wear all of it when she fights but she wears some protection to appease him. 

Wolffe painted the Wolf Pack symbol on it himself. 

Lexa definitely didn't cry when saw it. 

Really tries to think up a way to attach her saber to her hand permanently during a battle because he’s not about to have her lose it and put herself at risk. 

Puts up with the shenanigans she gets into with Boost and Sinker.

His trouble twins are already a pain in his ass and then add his pup in there and he's in for a long day.

Was not at all prepared for the first time Lexa and Ahsoka were together after a combined campaign with the 501st. 

Lexa has trouble sleeping sometimes and thus the cuddle piles are born. 

She overthinks a lot because of her perfectionist nature. 

Wolffe doesn't give compliments often but absolutely will compliment his little pup. 

Warthog was the one that coined the nickname as a joke since Lexa liked to follow Wolffe around in the beginning. 

It stuck and now everyone knows she's the Pack's little pup. 

Taglist:

@rosechi @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @wolffegirlsunite @jedi-hawkins

[burnwater13]

The Mandalorian wasn’t hedging. He didn’t understand ‘Frog’. And while he’d certainly picked up a variety of languages, or at least phrases in other languages, during his career as a bounty hunter, he hadn’t learned them all. 

Greef Karga had once quizzed him on the languages he spoke because of his success as a hunter. Din Djarin knew Huttese because everyone in the Outer Rim used it as a trade language. Some Jawa. Some Twi’leki. A smattering of other languages. But not ‘Frog’. Or whatever language the Child spoke. 

Din Djarin was certain that the Child was trying to speak to him at times and not just babbling or making random sounds like some babies and toddlers did. There were exclamations. There were questions. There were statements. For example, the Child said ‘patu’. It sounded like a real word, but what did ‘patu’ mean? Din had no idea.

The bounty hunter had heard the Child exclaim ‘patu’ more than once, but he didn’t think it meant ‘yippee’ or even ‘hey there’. It was hard for him to tell from context because the little guy seemed to find so many things new and different and wondrous. And sometimes he used a soft cooing sound that didn’t really seem like a word to the bounty hunter, but given his experiences it could have meant ‘wow’ or ‘nice’ or ‘way to go’. Maybe ‘awww’?

Then there were the times that the Child just chirped and babbled in a long stream of syllables and Din felt like he was supposed to do something. Maybe take the kid to the privy or put him in the hammock, or give him back the knob from the flight control stick? He knew for certain that the kid wanted food when he made a soft little ‘eh’ sound. He didn’t always make that sound before he ate something, but if the Mandalorian picked him up and offered him some rations, he always said ‘eh’. 

Which, upon reflexion actually meant the kid didn’t want rations, but he was still hungry. Din chuckled to himself at that. The kid was pretty picky about food, which the Mandalorian found funny, all things considered. Mandalorian children were not really allowed to be picky. You ate what you were given and you were glad to have it. 

If you mentioned more than once that something offered to you wasn’t to your liking, you found that it was the only thing offered to you until you no longer complained. You often heard, ‘There are foundlings that need food and they do not complain. This is the way.” 

The little one didn’t complain, he just reached into his mouth and picked the offending food out and put it neatly back on his plate. Din hated to admit it, but he was both repulsed and amused by the Child’s behavior in that regard. Funny and gross was a thing, right? 

At least it had been on Aq Vetina when he and the other kids would get up to mischief and dare and trick each other into doing things like eat a lizard egg or swap meals with the Rodian kids who lived near the market. Those had been fun times.

The Mandalorian didn’t think about those times much but now he was reminded that once he’d known a fair bit of Rodian because of those kids and their parents. They were nice folks. Happy. They made all manner of ceramics that they sold at the market. He was pretty sure they hadn’t survived the Separatist attack that killed his own parents. Uff.

That made him wonder about the Child’s parents. Had they taught him any words? Was ‘Patu’ the name of the kid’s father? Or mother? Or was the Child saying his own name out loud? The Mandalorian had no idea. 

He tried to have his comp figure it out, but to no avail. It couldn’t translate a language that wasn’t in its data stores. He’d thought of recording the kid when he was babbling, just to build up a database of content because maybe they’d find someone else who could translate it. But even Peli couldn’t tell what the little one was saying and she seemed to be quite conversant in ‘Frog’. 

The Mandalorian sighed. These were the times that he wished that people just learned Tusken sign language. It was pretty simple and covered a lot of territory and you didn’t need to make all manner of sounds and his helmet didn’t muffle those words. It was an ideal language for people who needed to communicate and be quiet.

He glanced at the Child and wondered if that’s what his language was really based on. Din Djarin could tell that the kid liked him. He could see it looking at those big brown eyes and those even bigger ears. The little frown when he was shown rations. The satisfaction when something like bone broth was in his cup and not just water. The glee when the silver knob was handed to him for play and cuddling. 

Din wondered if any of that would work with the Frog Lady and then just shrugged and thought ‘what the hell’.

The best he could do was try. This is the Way.

[sashketter]

Been jumping between chapters, writing the series about Riyo Chuchi and the Clone Underground. This scene came up completely unbidden and I love it. Hope y'all do, too. Warning: it's Rexiyo themed.

~~~

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Rex jerks awake. Riyo pins him to the bed, his left arm wrapped around her sleeping body curled around his side. Moonlight still streams in, high and incandescent, from the large windows. He fumbles with his free hand on the bedside table until he finds his comlink.

“Rex here,” he whispers.

“Rex! Where have you been?” Howzer sounds stressed, as always. “How long does it take to debrief the senator?”

Sounds of a commotion flood out of the speaker. Rex swings the comlink over the bedside, hoping the noise didn’t wake Riyo. She inhales, shifts her shoulders, and settles her head closer to his. He waits for her breathing to even out before resuming the call.

On the other side of the transmission, Rex hears the unmistakable voices of his brothers. They hush each other in turns.

“Leave him alone!” Gregor chirps. “If the senator wants to show him a good time—”

“What?” Howzer is incredulous. “We don’t have ti—” The sound of plastoid hitting plastoid stops him short. “Ow! Frotz tun!”

Gregor giggles. “What? Was that—” Sharp grunts turn into muted shouts and curses in Basic and Twi’leki before Echo’s gruff voice chimes in.

“Sorry, Rex. Uh, just wanted to let you know we’ve got everything locked down here at the base.” Echo tries his best to sound in control, but Rex can sense his exasperation.

Gregor’s laugh cuts through in the background, distant but audible. “Oh, ho ho ho! You’re gonna have to do better than that, ca— Mmph!” A muffled crash moves the captains out of earshot. Echo must have snuck the comlink away.

Echo sighs. “Just tell the senator we’re fine.”

Rex smiles. “Will do. Thanks, Echo. I’ll be back in half a rotation. Over and out.”

~~~

I love the image of a red-faced Howzer tackling a giggling Gregor over a line of crates and Echo, off to the side, just shaking his head and palming his face. He traded one rowdy squad for another lol

And according to at least two unverified sources, "frotz tun" means "fuck you" in Twi'leki. You're welcome.

[alexversenaberrie]

This is another one of my Mandalorian OC you’re free to use for a future painting.

Name: Isabeth Shae Djarin-Kryze

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Year of Birth: 12 ABY

Place of Birth: Mandalore

Parents: Din Djarin (father) and Bo-Katan Kryze (mother)

Siblings: Grogu (adopted brother), Mirta (biological sister), and Alexi (biological brother)

House: Kryze

Clan: Mudhorn

Titles: Princess of Mandalore, Duchess of Navarro

Appearance:

•5’4

•Light olive skin(Caucasian X Latina)

•Athletic

•Short face

•Long, straight, ginger brown hair

•Brown eyes

•Visible freckles on both sides of her cheek

Notable Skills:

•Combat: Well rounded in different forms of hand-to-hand combat such as being skilled in the use of Westar 34, 35, and carbine blasters. She’s also highly skilled in the use of the recently reforged Dark Saber.

•Athleticism: Due to constant training under her father, Din Djarin, Isabeth is very athletic like the rest of her family clan.

•Intelligence: Above-average intelligence, excelled well at both the newly reestablished Royal Academy as a youth and in training with her clan. She has minor experience in piloting ships.

•Force Sensitive?: No

Additional Information:

•She’s the second of triplets to sister Mirta and brother Alexi.

•Served both Generals Leia Organa-Solo and Poe Dameron as a commander for the Resistance in the battle against the First Order.

•A gifted Musician

•While tight-knit with her entire family, she has a closer relationship with her father and adopted brother Grogu.

Strengths:

•Is well-rounded on the field of politics, thanks to learning experience from her mother, Bo-Katan.

•Has amazing determination, willpower and like her mother, won’t go down without a fight.

•Fearless

•Can speak Basic, Mando’a, Twi’leki, Huttese, Tusken, and Gunganese.

•Fast-thinking, makes effective split-second decisions, and can improvise.

•Constantly on alert

•Competent

Weaknesses:

•Can be stubborn at times

•Antisocial

•Has a fear of droids

•Has a fear of flying, which can explain her lack of experience with piloting ships.

•Mild temper

Armor:

•Helmet: A “NiteOwl”-styled helmet that’s a mix between both of her parents helmets combined. The decal on the helmet is the Clan Kryze signet.

•Chest and Neck Pieces: Typical Nite Owl chest and neck pieces with the chest piece featuring her mother’s “Kryze Mythosaur” signet on the right side of the chest piece and Mandalorian “peace” Lillie’s on its left side. At its center is a gold heart to symbolize compassion and kindness.

•Groin: Typical Nite Owl groin piece

•Pauldrons: Similar to her mother’s, Isabeth has a “Nite Owl” signet on the left pauldron and her father and brother’s “Mudhorn” signet on the right pauldron.

•Gauntlets: Similar in appearance to Sabine Wren’s, the gauntlets have the ability to shoot paralyzing darts, emit shields, repulse attacks from sabers and blasters, grapple lines, and the ability to throw barrels and use flamethrower.

Hand armor: Similar to her father’s.

•Thigh Plates: Similar to her mothers’s.

•Knee Armor: Galaxy-styled like Ursa Wren’s but can launch missiles.

•Shin Guards: Typical Nite Owl-styled shin guards like her mother.

•Jet pack: Due to her fear of flying, she doesn’t often use her jet pack, which is similar to her father’s.

Armor Color Scheme:

•Grey Blue

•Beskar Silver

Soft parts:

•Similar to her mother’s.

Belt:

•Similar to Sabine Wren’s with a double belt but with a light blue sash around it.

Weapons in Possession:

•2 identical Westar blasters

•Dark Saber, recently reforged by her brother, Grogu.

Here she is :). As she is a duchess of Navarro, I decided to give her the robe of Navarro's High Magistrate ;) And as she is royalty - I gave her other 'crown' like hairdresser of Satine

There is dark saber of course, I hope that it is visible.

[raven-of-domain-kwaad]

The top of the Voidhound’s criminal empire (sans my BH their Underboss)

Thinking of calling Temeli “Daesha” (female ruler or queen in twi’leki) as the boss of the organization. Let her have a title similar to Don Corleone’s “Godfather.” Haven’t found a twi’leki or huttese word for “Advisor” as a replacement for “Consigliere” but that would end up being Lynora’s title. Just fun to have Tem’s twi’lek heritage influence the titles of her criminal empire.

Ship Captain’s and those in leadership roles would be called “Anoon” (commander, warrior chief). And minor members without any leadership roles would then be called Gida (female warrior) or Chee (male warrior) to replace the mafia “soldier” title.

[coffeeandbatboys]

Okay I was looking up Twi’leki words for a fic and I learned that Aayla means mist or smoke and now all I can think about is Bly calling Aayla ‘Misty’

[poetic-justicesong]

Chapter 2: The Child

This is your path, It whispers.

Fuck you. The thought is automatic, visceral.

This is your path.

“No,” you whisper through your clenched teeth. I’m jeopardizing my own well being. Why this? I’ll provide the most balance by continuing with the Rebels, saving hundreds instead of one–

This is your path.

Dank Ferrik.

All right, you surrender, I’m listening.

-----

“What’s your name?” Mando tries again after a stretch of silence.

The boy tilts his head, but otherwise remains mute.

Different language, maybe?

“Hutteese? Kenari? Twi’leki?” The Mandalorian probes gingerly, and then throws in a shot in the dark. “Mando’a?”

The Child still doesn’t answer. But he does continue to hold Mando’s gaze, showing he’s listening. His eyes peek up at the adult bashfully through his lashes.

Maybe he’s shy. The Mandalorian tilts his helmet in thought. “Where are your parents?” Mando asks finally, and the little boy continues to look up at the man for a moment before dropping his eyes to his lap. His little fingers fidget with his raggedy brown blanket, but he doesn’t answer Mando’s question.  

[twilekchiss]

How did Asha and Thrawn first meet?

I’m sorry this took so long, but this was the only question I got from the Ask About my OC post, so I wanted to do it justice instead of a quick one or two sentence answer.

So, how did Asha and Thrawn first meet?

You know that party that Thrawn and Pryce meet at?

Not that one. 

Ascension Week is a week-long party, essentially. A popular thing to do is for hosts to chain their parties together in a way that gets you an invitation to each one. So let’s say Bail Organa and four of his buddies all decide to host a party one night each for that week. Bail throws his on Bendusday, Mon Mothma throws hers on Taungsday, etc.  If you get an invitation to one, you get an invitation to all of them. 

This is what Yularen did when he was showing Thrawn off at Ascension Week. The first party, where Thrawn and Pryce met for the first time, was thrown at the Alisandre Hotel. Thrawn and Asha meet on the next day, the second party.

Asha’s there as her benefactor’s, Commander Zenon’s, arm candy. Zenon sponsors a Twi’lek rehabilitation program out of the theater he owns, as well as being on Coruscant’s Planetary Defense Force, and well-connected politically besides. Normally, his Twi’leki lover, Asha’s mentor Shelda, is his date, but tonight she is indisposed. So Asha goes in her stead. 

Yularen introduces Thrawn and Eli to Zenon, hoping that Zenon’s influence will be one more voice in Thrawn’s favor. Zenon, in turn, introduces his date to the men.

For her part, Asha is immediately drawn to Thrawn’s demeanor, his voice especially. Something about him immediately sets her at ease, and it only gets better when Thrawn pays attention to her. Not for her beauty, but for what she actually has to say. Both Zenon and Yularen dismiss her as a silly, pretty young girl with not much in her head, but Thrawn does not. He listens to her, treats her as if she has something worth hearing other than empty words. It’s a relief to finally be treated as a whole person, something that had been solely lacking in her life when she had been enslaved, and not much better when she escaped. People don’t see anything other than her beauty and charm, but Thrawn sees her intelligence and wit.

For his part, Asha seems to accept him almost immediately. At one point in the party, they meet again, separate from their respective companions. In a dark alcove, Thrawn studies a painting on the wall. Asha was there, hiding away from Zenon and the party for a break. They talk quietly; when Thrawn, being Thrawn, begins to talk about what he sees in the artwork, Asha doesn’t question it. When Thrawn asks her why she so readily accepts that, she shrugs and tells him she gets it. She can’t see what he sees, precisely, but she understands being able to see things that others don’t – or in her case, hear things. To her, music is language, and language is music. Enough time listening to a language she doesn’t know and she’ll begin to understand it. Thrawn sees lines, shapes, points, and spaces where Asha hears beats, notes, and rhythms in things. It makes it easy for her to deal with people just by listening to them. She can get a feel for politics and social situations through feeling the rhythms of people. 

They are fascinated by each other. Not quite attracted to – at least, not on Thrawn’s side – but interested in one another because they feel kindred. They feel seen with each other. 

It doesn’t hurt that they then solve an art theft mystery at the rest of the Ascension Weeks parties together, and really learn to respect each others’ skill sets.

They end up exchanging contact information, and correspond regularly while Thrawn does his job. When he’s on Coruscant, they often spend time with one another. This is where the romance starts to actually blossom, but they're friends first.