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Our Way Ch.6

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Ch 1

Kofi

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Newest chapter in my Mando fic. I'm starting on the outline for my next big fic, so let me know if you'd like to see a Paz integration AU or Wolffe Civvi volunteer fic! Thanks, and I hope you enjoy!

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If you could hit the Man seated next to you and have any hope of it doing anything more than hurting yourself you certainly would. Instead you were resolved to watching out the window as you crossed over the endless sea of sand. Another stupid desert planet, just after you had escaped the last. You could only hope that your stay here would be shorter and maybe even a fraction more enjoyable. The only upside was that you weren’t being shot down this time.

“So, how well do you know this person?”

Mando’s helmet tilted your way, then back to the front, clearly tired of your pestering ever since he’d told you about your newest destination, though you considered him to be the more unreasonable one. Did he really expect you to just trust some random person who probably got their kicks out of swindling people out of credits? They lived on Tatooine for makers sake! It was just as bad as Corellia, if not worse, and you made sure he heard your qualms loud and clear.

“She’s not the type to just go blabing to anyone about paying customers, and her work is good enough to get us back into shape.”

“Hey, what's that supposed to mean?” You gestured to the ship around you, brow set in a stiff line. “My work is good! We’re still flying, aren’t we?”

Granted, there was still the occasional bump and alarm of a random sensor failing, but considering it had been years since you had last put a ship together and all you knew about this one was from a manual, you would say you did a stunning job.

He sighed, carefully angling himself and slowing as you approached the hanger of your soon to be mechanic.

“We still need repairs. I don’t keep spares of everything my ship needs on board.”

Touching down, the ship had hardly finished settling before he was up and walking with you scrambling after him, not one to be left behind. Passing by Grogu’s compartment, you made sure he was still sleeping. The heat had really done a number on him it seemed, and made you wonder if his species may live on an aquatic planet. He had been passed out since you’d left the last dust ball, only waking to snack before going right back to sleep. You actually found yourself envious of him, able to sleep so soundly without worry of having to pull his weight. The fear of the Mandalorian deciding you were more trouble than you were worth still hung in the air, pushing exhaustion to the background as you worked to keep every spot of the ship in shape. That, and he was able to stay in the cool ship, meanwhile you were being blinded by the twin suns reflecting off the numerous metallic objects scattered about. One wrong step and you would be both tripped and killed by either strangulation by wires or flyed by a rogue metal sheet.

“You!” The voice echoed across the hanger, rough but undoubtedly femine, which was a surprise. Female mechanics weren’t something new to you, having worked alongside them for a number of years during what could be considered the peak of your life, but for one to be running a hanger on the misogynistic planet of Tatooine? She must have skin of steel. The assumption was only proven true as a short women stormed out of what must be the office, her mane of hair bouncing with every stride.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up around here after last time!” She marched right up to the warrior, jabbing a finger in his face and completely ignoring your presence. Fine by you. With the way smoke was practically pouring from her ears, having her attention was the last thing you wanted.

“Listen-”

“No!” She cut him off, ending any protest with a single word. The only thing more surprising than her confidence was his compliance, standing there and taking the tongue lashing that had obviously been building for a long time.

“You come running back here, those sleemos hot on your trail, and then leave me to deal with it! Do you know how much stock I lost! You didn’t even pay me for housing your ship!” She threw her hands in the air, emphasizing her point and anger. Later you would blame it on a combination of unease and stress from the past few days, though you still cursed yourself for the way you instinctively flinched back from the motion. Not a lot, but enough to draw the attention of the fuming mechanic.

“Look here! You’ve managed to sucker another person into doing your work.” She grabbed your shoulders, forcing your skittish eyes to focus on her. “Trust me honey, nothing is worth dealing with this bantha brain.”

You were tempted to agree with her, though you were too scared to speak, thankful that you weren’t on the receiving end of her glare and wanting to do anything to keep it that way.

Fortunately the Mandalorian was still in the front of her mind and she once again turned to scold him, but before she could talk any worse of the man he was shoving a sizable pouch her way. The familiar clinking of credits sounded dully from inside, and the deep crease of her brow quickly disappeared when she opened it.

“You should find more than enough compensation there for last time, as well as enough to pay for your services this time.” Your brow raised at his words. Mando was never one to give anything more than the bare minimum, less if he could get away with it. He had counted every credit left after your visit to Nevarro, comparing it to every item you had brought back. APart from your own ‘personal’ items of course. His charity now was surprising, and telling of just how much he wanted to placate the woman.

She looked from Mando to the pouch, then back again. It was clear she didn’t want to accept the blatant bribe with her anger still simmering just below the surface, but credits were hard to argue against.

“Fine.” Finally caving, she tucked the pouch into her belt, clapping her hands and looking around you to the ship. “Where’s the little guy? I hardly had a chance to see him last time.”

“Sleeping.”

She frowned, brows falling back into their furrowed position. Clearly not happy with his explanation, you attempted to elaborate further. Anything to keep her from getting angry again.

“He’s had a long couple of days. We all have.”

“I bet.” She laughed mirthlessly before moving towards the ship. Her hands graced the sides, taking in every new scratch and nick while assessing the condition of the engines. Pulling up a panel, she took stock of the wiring inside, nearly waist deep as she spoke.

“Well, nothing I can’t take care of, but it’ll take some time.”

Mando was already turning around, heading towards the hangar exit, not at all hesitant to leave you with some stranger. He left without a word, or even a proper introduction, which was one of the worst .

Turning back, the woman was already getting to work on the ship. Metal grating metal wreaks havoc on your ears, though does nothing to impair her own hearing as you approach, speaking to you as much as she is herself.

“He seems to have a habit of picking up defenseless lifeforms, doesn’t he?”

Bristling, any fear is replaced by a hurt sense of pride. You had been called a lot of things over the years, many that you would never repeat, but defenseless rubbed you the wrong way every time. All those years fighting and surviving on your own weren’t for nothing, and if anyone were to make that mistake it was always quickly rectified.

“I’m not defenseless! In fact, just a few weeks ago someone came onto the ship and I-”

A droid scuttled past, almost taking you to the ground in his rush. The second and third did the job however, leaving you sitting in the dirt as they clambered around, passing tools and checking diagnostics and servos. All the while the woman shouts instructions from the top of the Crest.

You huff, embarrassed and dismissed, when a glint catches your eye. It comes from within the deep shadows of the hanger’s interior, a beacon in the dark. A glance tells you she’s not paying attention and neither are the droids, too busy with their project to pay the squabbling little creature you were any attention.

Surely a peak wouldn’t hurt? Mando had left you unattended and clearly no one else here was interested in entertaining you. Besides, what better way to get to know someone than by looking through their things?

On light steps, constantly checking over your shoulder to make sure your new friends were still occupied. Once inside it was free game, swallowed by the shadows as you scurried from view and deeper into the small area.

The collection, you had to admit, was rather admirable. Parts for every major ship class, as well as a few lesser known ones, were scattered about, shoved into every nook and cranny available. The seemingly random piles were actually well organized upon closer inspection. With the piece ranging from couplings to shock absorbers, they were all missing the same thin layer of sand that coated everything else outside. You were lucky you didn’t have any allergies, as the dust that still coated tickled your nose enough, forcing you to hold back every little sneeze and cough that tickled your throat. With every inspected piece the credit count in your head only increased, and the familiar itch returned. One that could only be placated by the satisfaction of getting away with a new item for your collection. It would be so easy. Nobody was around and there was no shortage of items you could easily hide within your sleeves.

Your hand reached out, ready to take a shiny multi-tool from the collection, only to stop short as Mando’s words came butting in.

‘Don’t steal things.’

It was like the ghost of his touch was back around your neck, cutting off air and stilling any movement.

He had been so angry at the time, his voice growling even through the modulator. If he found out you had done it again after his explicit warning, and this time from someone he personally knew and seemingly trusted, what would he do? It was still his ship. He could leave you here at the slightest slipup, and as bad as Corellia was, Tatooine was much worse. Cross the wrong person and you could easily find yourself in front of a Hutt.

Besides, you reasoned, painfully pulling your hand back as you headed back towards the main hanger and away from the tempting treasures within, she seemed like a decent enough person, and you tried to keep some form of morals when working. Making the person working on your ship angry was never a good idea either.

“You know, with how cheap that guy is you’d think he would take better care of his ship.” It takes you a moment to realize she’s talking to you. The first time she’s even acknowledged your existence since Mando left. She’s moved on to the engines, inspecting the plating with a close eye before shrugging and moving on, seemingly finding no issue.

“At least he knows how to weld.”

A sense of pride fills your chest, jumping on the chance to establish a common ground with her.

“Actually, I was the one who did the welding up there.” A head of wild hair peeks over the edge, goggles covering her eyes and oil already smudged on her skin.

“You don’t say?” She gestured you up, disappearing just as quickly as she had appeared. Almost frantically, you launched yourself up the ladder, excited to have someone other than Mando to talk to, as well as appreciated your work. When you did make it up she was going over every joint with her finger, checking for even the smallest mistake as you watched silently, if not slightly smug.

“Name’s Peli.” She finally said, turning around and offering a hand, which you hesitantly took. For being so small her grip was surprisingly strong, the skin of her palm scratching yours with it’s callous surface. However, when you went to pull away, her grip only tightened.

“You know,” she drawled, “these welds look awfully similar to the ones you would find on Imperial ships. Identical, one might even say.”

Your eyes shot up to hers, now free from the goggles sitting on her head and burning back. A chill fell down your spine, and every danger alarm was going off in your head. The dark irises were piercing, as consuming as a black hole, and it felt as if you were facing down Mando once again with how she seemed to be looking into your very soul. You considered lying, an excuse already on the tip of our tongue, but that look made you stop. She would know. No matter how good, how convincing, she would know. And lying was definitely the last thing you should do with her.

“I..I worked at one of the factories in my youth.” You admitted shakily. Peli’s brow rose in response, clearly wanting more than that before she would loosen her current vice grip.

“Only a couple years, but enough for me to get good at it. Took to it like a Nautalan to water actually. Even got promoted a few times.”

Her eyes searched yours, looking for even the slightest hint of a lie, and with how long she took you began doubting if you had even told the truth you knew it as. Then, finally, she let go, gathering her things and heading towards the ladder, you scuttling after her.

“How’d you end up with Mando then? I know the Empire likes their skilled labor workers, and the skills would do you good at any other job.”

“Things were…different…back then.” It seemed like a million lightyears away looking back on it. A completely different life from what you knew both previously and now. Dragging yourself from the gutter and to your position at the plant had been nothing short of a miracle. At the time you had considered yourself lucky, even grateful to be out of the slums. Just like everyone else the empire had succeeded in placing you to the point of resignation with everything else they were doing. At the time you had considered it the galaxy’s way of compensating you for everything else that had happened in your life. Unfortunately, just like always, your luck ran out, and the universe decided it was time for a reality check.

“From skilled welder to a petty thief, quiet the jump.” Her tone was questioning, though no longer held the same hint of accusation and suspicion. You only shook your head, jumping down after her, trying not to winch as a small twinge shot up your leg. It may have healed long ago, but every time you walked or jumped in just the right way it would still occasionally send a jolting reminder of what your soft heart had done.

“Hey, you have to reach friendship level three before unlocking my tragic backstory, and Mando hasn’t even managed yet.’’

“I’m not surprised.” She joked. “His sunny personality leaves his social skills a bit lacking.”

You both laughed, picturing the cold, awkward man trying to have a heart to heart with someone. It was easier to imagine him taking off his helmet than approach any conversation that had to do with messy feelings. Grogu was already hard enough for him to deal with on an emotional level.

Mid-laugh, you realized Peli’s implication with her earlier words, now your turn to be sceptical.

“Wait a minute, how’d you know I was a-”

“You get good at reading people.” She winked. “Your hands never stop moving, and you're always shifting from foot to foot even though your walk is smooth. You also walked out of there,” she gestures to the interior section of the hanger, “with the air of a guilty person, though it’s probably better you didn’t take anything. The last time that happened, I got a new ship.”

She gestures to one of the far corners, and sitting there is in fact a ship that looks out of place from the others. Too new and upgraded in comparison to its half stripped companions.

Laughing nervously, you let out a shaky ‘yeah’.

“Well, why don’t we put some of that Imperial work ethic to good use.” She tossed the welding torch to you, nearly dropping it in surprise as she walked around to the other side of the ship. “Not like you have much else to do, and Mando still owes me a break.”

“I never really worked on the more internal parts of the ships. I only know about this one because I’ve read the maul a thousand times. Surprisingly, Mandalorians don’t seem to be attached to the idea of having a selection of reading materials.”

She waved off your caution, already claiming waist deep into the bottom hatch. “As long as you know what you’re doing here, you’re fine. Besides, I might be able to teach a new trick or two along the way.”

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“So this one goes here?” Peli looks over at your question, eyes skimming your work before nodding. “Right. One lower and your hyperdrive would be useless.”

Nodding, you plugged the wire into the circuit before soldering it in place, careful not to use too much of the wire. The last thing you needed was Peli charging Mando more because she thought you wasted her materials, though with how comfortable you already felt around her after only a few short hours it was unlikely in your mind. It may be from your time spent with the bounty hunter and his kid, but the reserve you held for any stranger quickly dissipated the longer the worked.

Despite her rough exterior, Peli seemed to have a soft spot in her. When the child had finally woken up once again, coming down the ramp in search of either of the two others that normally occupied the ship, she had snached him away before you could even crawl from under the ship. Without a word she headed back into what you assumed was her office and left you with the slightly less than competent droids. Five minutes later they reappeared, the mechanic talking on and on as Grogu gnawed at what appeared to be a cookie of some sort. As they approached he held the baked good out, barely able to hold the large treat in his small claws; half chewed and slobber gleaming in the afternoon rays.

“No thank you.” Kindly passing you instead gave his head a small rub, checking his skin to make sure it wasn’t too dry or sunburnt.

“He sure seems to like you.” She noted as he leaned into your touch. Unconsciously, the corners of your mouth turned up into a soft smile.

“I could say the same about you.”

“Well,” she laughed, hiking him up a bit further in her arms. “I’ve been his babysitter more than once, but it seems like you’ve taken that up as well.”

With the repairs nearly finished she invited you inside, breaking out a few ration packets to rehydrate for dinner. The entire time you talked Grogu sat on your knee, now on his second treat that Peli seemed to have an endless supply of.

“Don’t even get me started on his hygiene.” You groaned as she laughed.

“I’m serious! I get the whole conserving water thing and know the man lies to keep busy, but sometimes he walks by and I can smell the sweat and dirt on him. Like, just get a sonic shower if you’re so strapped on time.” A headache was coming on as flashback of being woken up to the smell of iron and dirt when he took too long to shower after bounties came to mind. Still you were on a role now, finally able to complain to someone who could understand your woes with the warrior.

“Like, I know he has a toothbrush, but I swear it never moves from its spot! And the soap doesn’t go down fast enough for him to be washing properly!”

Peli only shook her head, both in amusement and pity.

“It’s just a guy thing. You wouldn’t believe how many of them come in here and I have to hold my breath.”

It had been a long time since you had laughed so much, especially with someone else. By this point your sides ached and your face hurt from smiling so much, a small bout of hiccups erupting.

“I’m pretty clean as far as bounty hunters go. You wouldn’t smile so much if you were stuck with a trandoshian.” The familiar voice sends a shock down your spine. Grogu squealed at the appearance of the new guest.

“Mando! Didn’t expect you back so soon.” Peli makes no move to greet him, leaning further back as she sips on her drink. “You’re normally gone for at least a day, though I have no complaints; your friend here is much better company.”

Her words lit your cheeks ablaze, not used to such compliments. Normally it was only your skills and what you could do for them that people found interesting. For years Corin had lamented about your quick hands, with a few other groups and factions, both big and small, taking interest. To his credit and your dismay, he was the only one that was overly persistent in his efforts to sway you. Persuasion of food and clothing had flowed from his like water, stubborn pride never letting you take any of, least he thought it was some form of a yes. A good load of nothing it did him in the end, seeing as he was back on Corellia still working like a grunt and you were out exploring the galaxy. With a Mandalorian at that.

He ignored her jab, helmet turning your way.

“We’ll be staying here for a while.”

Your eyebrows shot up, head cocked to the side as you tried to detect any hint of a joke. Normally when he got bounties he would be in a big rush to drop them off wherever needed, be it Nevaro or some other planet. Especially with a bounty as big as the one he had now.

“It’s best to lay low for now. Crisim Dawn will have people patrolling the system on the lookout for us.”

You said nothing, letting the silence stretch uncomfortably as Peli looked between you. It was like a game you played with each other, staying silent until the other caved. One you were getting good at, evident as he spoke once more.

“I found another job in town, Not until tomorrow night, but it’ll give us enough credits to fill the ship. I don’t want to have to make any stops once we head back.’’

“Always about the credits with you.” Shaking your head, you stood and went to head back to the ship. After working in the sun all day you were worn to the bone, and it was already Grogu’s bedtime. The last thing you wanted to deal with tomorrow was a grumpy kid.

As you went to pass he grabbed your shoulder. You jumped back away from his touch, glaring at the audacity. Manhandling was such an archaic way of getting attention, not to mention too invasive for your taste. Words worked just as well, even if he was lacking in the conversation department.

“Put him to bed. You and I have other plans.”

Your anger turned to confusion, then annoyance.

“Well, on that ominous note I’m turning in.” Peli interrupted before things could escalate any further. Smoothly sliding between you, she created some space once again. “Got a lot on the agenda tomorrow and I could sure use your help.”

You nodded, receiving a more welcome pat on the shoulder in thanks.

“Oh, and don’t kill each other. I don’t want to have to open late tomorrow.” With that she disappeared deeper into the shadows of the shop.

Sending one last glare his way, you headed back to the ship,, already dreading whatever he had planned.

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“This is why you dragged me out into the middle of the desert?”

Mando ignored your complaints, removing select items from his ensemble. Even with the suns below the horizon, the last of their rays reaching over the dunes, the air still crowded every space with heat. Instead of the same dry heat that persisted during the day, it was replaced with a humid feel that was arguably worse as it clung to everything and made clothes stick to skin.

Mando finished carefully placing the last of his tools and weapons on his discarded cloak, keeping the metal away from the invading sand around them. Just from the walk out it had somehow gotten into your shoes, painfully rubbing the skin raw with each step.

“I know how to fight.”

“No, you don’t.”

Annoyance for his matter-of-fact tone and lackluster delivery flared once again. It was as if he thought you were little more than a child, too much confidence with nothing to back it up as you crossed your arms.

“If I recall correctly, I’m the one who saved your ass back on Corellia. Without me you would have been stripped of your armor and beaten to a pulp by those guys. In fact-”

“You had the element of surprise. Once that was gone you were quickly overpowered.” He cut you off, voice echoing across the empty space between you. “Even if you had the mass of a Mandalorian, you wouldn’t know how to use it.”

Scoffing, you shot back. “Not everyone grows up on a warrior's diet and be a six foot wall of muscle. I did the best I could.”

He said nothing, only shifting into his own fighting stance and staring, waiting for you to do the same. It was tempting to just turn around and walk back to the shop, brushing off his insistence just as he had your skills, and you would have had you not know for a fact that he would simply drag you back, kicking and screaming. So, with a great huff, you lowered yourself into a sloppy fighting position. You could entertain him for twenty or so minutes and reasonably be able to scoot off, having tried it his way.

Letting your mind wander, you took in the man before you. He was still as stone, watching with all the intensity of a true fighter. His stance was solid but not rigid, tense in anticipation. It was almost funny how serious he was being about what he also claimed to be a ‘light sparring session’.

’ Must be a Mandalorian thing’, you mused. It did make you think about his own upbringing a bit more. It must have been as rough and tumble as your own, though undoubtedly more structured. He probably did this every day growing up. The matches would be interesting to watch you supposed, to skilled fighters duking it out for recognition among brethren. Did they keep their armor on when they fought? Or would they simply pull punches? Maybe the bruises were seen as a symbol of pride, much like scars. Of course he would-

“Shit!” Stumbling back, you fell to your knees as any and all breath escaped you. The sand dug into your palms as tears blurred your vision, trying not to puke. All the while you mind raced, trying to catch up with what had happened.

As the oxygen slowly enters your lungs, your surroundings come into focus once again, allowing you to note your companion standing in front of you. You pant, struggling to produce coherent words.

“D..Did you…just…hit me?”

“We are sparring. What did you think was going to happen?”

A glare was all that you could manage, focusing on getting your breathing back enough to stand once again. He offered his hand for assistance, which was pointedly ignored.

So it was going to be like that, eh? Well he may be smug now, confidence tinging the air like bantha stink around him, but he was in for a rude awakening. No more being caught off guard, and no more playing around.

Mando takes a few steps back, allowing you to get back into a proper fighting position. He does the same, leaving you to watch each other in the heavy silence. By now the sun had long since set, with the moon barely over the horizon and leaving you in a hazy dimness. An advantage for you, no longer blinded by the reflection of his armor and making it harder for him to see you.

Not wanting him to have the upper hand, you push forward, closing the gap in a flash as you aim a swift jab at his side. Wanting to return the humiliation, peeing blood for a week would be a nice exchange.

Dashin to the right, you quickly pivoted just as you reached him, aiming for the other, unprotected side. You knuckles were on course to make contact, they should have made contact, yet they hit nothing other than a glance of fabric as he jumped away. There was little time for surprise as his own arm swung around, and managed to successfully clip your shoulder as you hopped away.

Managing to get around him, you tried once again to attack from the back side, only for him to dodge again. This went on and on, you jumping in with an attack only for him to dodge, and with increasing ease much to your annoyance. Panting, you finally put a decent amount of distance between you to regain your breath and thoughts.

He was surprisingly fast for his size, as well as the fact he still had his armor on. The only indication he gave of being tired at all was the way his shoulders slightly heaved with small pants. The current plan wasn’t working. He wasn’t like your average lowlife in the streets.

“So, what was it like growing up with them?”

His helmet tilted at the sudden question. Except for the occasional grunt or shout of frustration, the entire ordeal had been a silent exchange of blows. Top that with the fact that it was of a more personal nature and it was enough to make anyone pause.

That’s exactly what you were hoping for.

Jumping forward from your bent position, you managed to land a square hit in his chest, cringing when the metal nearly snapped your wrist. Ignoring the sting, you shook out the appedange and continued to question him.

“I don’t know. If I grew up with a group of people I wouldn’t be so eager to be away from them all the time.”

Another hit landed, this time in the shoulder causing him to stumble a bit, much to your excitement.

“Do you guys fight like this all day? Or is it strictly a nightime entertainment type thing?”

You dodge a leg sweep, and you know you’re starting to get on his nerves. A wide elbow sweep forces you to step back. He’s the one following you now, moving forward with each step you take back until he has you against a small, rocky outcropping. His head tilts up triumphantly, clearly thinking he’s won. His hand shoots forward, open and ready to grab you, but with ease you scale the wall, only wishing you could see his face as you did so. The rock itself was easier than anything you had climbed before. Multiple outcropping and ledges, as well as the textured surface allowed better drip than the smooth metal you were used to. Pair all that with the soft sand that would greet you instead of metal and the confidence you had scaling the wall was at an all time high.

Once you were high enough, looking over your shoulder to make sure there was enough room. As tempting as it was to stay up there, the wind cooling your sunburn skin. But with how easy it was to climb, the same texture of the rocks was starting to cut into your skin, the sweat worked up during the fight slowly causing you to slip. It was now or never.

Sending a silent prayer to the maker, hoping the sand had as much give as you assumed, you bunched your legs into a short crouch before launching yourself as far back as you could. These were your favorite moments. The ones between beginning and end where you were it felt as if you were flying, nothing but the air around you as you could pretend you were nothing more than weightless for a few moments. The wind whistled past as you fell, adding a single spin for flourish just because you could. If he wanted to show off, then so would you.

The ground was a bit closer than you thought, and the sand shifted a bit more than anticipated, causing you to stumble a step back before catching yourself. Grinning, you flipped your tousled hair away to see Mando still standing a few paces away at the bottom of the rocks. He looked between you and your previous perch, back and forth, before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Are you sure you aren’t part Boga?” He started back your way, pausing just before you with crossed arms as his head tilted up and down, taking you in from head to toe as if it would reveal some secret.

“Like I said, not all of us can be like you. I guess for as many skills as you Mandalorians have, climbing isn’t one of them, eh? I bet you’ve fallen off a lot of things.”

Chin tilting, he ignored the comment.

“You know, for someone who asks a lot of questions, you sure don’t like to answer them.”

Shrugging, you stretch out your arms and fingers, winching with each crack. It had been so long since you had been forced to climb something other than for leisure or when the child wanted some type of fruit from the treetops. He had actually begun to pick up the habit, trying to follow you whenever you headed up somewhere to get a better vantage point to just ease your own worries or see if you could spot Mando heading back.

“It's how you learn to live. Keep your eyes and ears open, with you head down and mouth closed.”

“Sounds like a cowardly way to live. Never taking pride in who you are.”

You rolled your eyes. It had been a mistake to think he would have understood any of it. Not when your entire family was as efficient as a small army. If you didn’t have the name and skill to back it up, standing out was the last thing you wanted.

“Oh, and I’m sure the almighty warrior has some better advice for me.” You scoffed.

“Yeah.” The world is on a tilt, the same weightlessness you had enjoyed just moments before becoming terrifying as your feet leave the ground. It’s only for a moment, not even long enough for a sound to escape your lips, before you're slammed back into the desert floor. The sand did little to cushion the impact like it had with your jump, leaving you staring up at the starry sky in shock. Mando’s helmet pops into your sight, staring down passively.

“Never let your guard down.”

You want to send back a sharp comment of your own, but your mouth can only open and close soundlessly as you glare back. The sly bastard. He probably thought he was so slick with that little trick.

He gives you only a moment of rest before forcing you back on your feet, keeping you standing on jelly legs with a firm grip on your collar as he all but dragged you back to where his collection of weapons lay neatly atop his cape still. His grip is like steel as he puts little apparent effort carrying you, even when you let your body go limp in protest. It’s only when he bends down and begins rummaging through the items do you find it in yourself to panic.

Backpedaling, or at least trying to, you fight to get away from his grip. Seeing you had your senses back he allows his grip to relax and immediately you jump back, eying him with as much suspicion as one would a gambler.

“Relax,” he says, almost as if he can read your mind. “If I was going to kill you I would have done it when I first dragged you out here.”

As if he would need a weapon to be able to kill you when he had just dragged you around like a loth kitten.

“Here.”

You almost miss the metal that comes flying your way, stopping it just before you’re cracked in the face, which would have added yet another injury to insult. The object is smooth and heavy, about the same heft as a bag of bolts.Yet the weight is not the reason you drop it.

Recoiling as if you’ve been stung, Mando lets out a disgruntled grunt at the way you treat his blaster.

“What’s gotten into you? It doesn't bite.” He holds it out again for you to take, only for you to retreat back further. Your adrenaline is pumping as much as it was during your fight, deafening as it pounds in your ears.

“You need target practice.” He insisted.

Arms firmly crossed, your body shrinks even further in on itself as you glare at the offending item.

“I’m perfectly fine without it! You can’t force me to use one of those awful things.”

“You’re being ridiculous. I’ve seen you use pipes to beat people unconscious before, so don’t act like you have any issue with violence.” He takes in your stiff posture, annoyance clear as he once again tries to push the blaster into your hidden hands, only for you to jump back even further from him.

“What, you got some kind of trauma?” The words are laced with a tone of teasing, but it's no joke to you. The metal flashes in the moonlight, as blinding as the flash of memory it brings.

_______________________

There’s people running all around, their shouts and screams the only thing louder than the blaster fire that remains a constant. Smoke clogs the air as if it itself is meant to be breathed, and blocks all views more than five feet in any direction as it’s lit up by varying colors of blaster bolts. Unfortunately, it does nothing to obstruct the sight of the body laying next to you, blood still warm as it smokes in protest of the cold night air, nor that of the storm trooper standing above you.

His armor shines dull in the dim light of Corellia’s overcast sky, nothing compared to the smooth metal of the blaster he has aimed between your eyes. The heat from it’s last shot was still burning along the barrel, singing your skin.

Even if you could find it in yourself to move there was nothing you could do. He could have three shots off before you could even get off the ground. There was nothing to do but accept fate.

And so that’s what you did.

Leaning back, you turned your gaze to the sky, regretful you never got to see what lay beyond the clouds as your mother had always promised you would. She was always promising things like that. Getting away from this planet, having a better life. Somewhere you could have your own library, and she could grown her garden. You would read and she would work, all while enjoying the sunshine as a cool breeze blew through whatever valley you had decided was best.

A lie. Ust like everything else she had ever told you. And now, you would die by some sleemo with a blaster who fancied himself an honorable soldier. But how brave was it to kill a child?

_________________________________________________________________

“Of course not.” You sneer, covering any shaking in your voice with snark. “Listen, you may have your ‘way’, but I have my own way and it’s worked fine for years.”

With steeled nerves you brush past him, ignoring the still extended weapon as you ram your shoulder into his. He stumbles at the unexpected hit.

“It’s getting late, we should head back in case anyone manages to track the ship. I imagine Peli wouldn’t be too happy about that.”

Mandos silent for a beat, contemplating his options before moving to collect his things. You wait. Not because you actually care, but because Peli had told you how prevalent the area is for Tuskens during your bonding time earlier. Especially when it was night.

Mando caught up,tucking the last of his items into his belt and securing it to his waist as you walked. “Probably better. You’ll need your rest for tomorrow, since you’ll be working with me.”

His words almost cause you to stumble, wheeling around on him for answers. He doesn’t even pause in his own stride, staring straight ahead as he continues back to the hangar. You were now the one jogging to keep up as he maintained pace.

“What do you mean I’m working with you? I’m no bounty hunter.” Your job was to watch the kid. That was it. Maker spare him if he thought he was going to turn you into some kind of sidekick in his work.

“You travel with me, you pull your weight. That means more than just babysitting. Don’t get your hopes up though. It’s just a small guard job. No hunting people down involved.”

To say you were annoyed was putting it mildly, though you both knew there was little room to argue, which made it that much worse. With what you got in return, having to just watch Grogu was easy work. Doing a few simply jobs on the side was more than reasonable for him to ask, and even if you wanted to protest he could just as easily leave you behind.

That still didn’t mean you were going to like it.

“Fine. But I’m not getting into any brawls for your sake, and I’m definitely not waking up at the crack of dawn with how late you’ve kept us out.”

What could have been mistaken for a chuckle sounded from the tall man, though you wouldn’t allow yourself to believe he had a sense of humor for anything other torturing you.

“Deal.”

_____________________________________________________

True to his word, you were allowed to sleep in late the next day. It had only been a joke when you had said it yesterday, hard pressed to sleep any longer than a few hours at a time when you managed to. It was more often resting with your eyes closed as your mind raced with thoughts; past, present, and future. The heat must have taken more of a toll on your body then you thought it would, and Peli being all too eager to work you to the bone yesterday had its own contribution. The exhaustion didn’t guarantee sweat dreams unfortunately, but thankfully you had your own personal alarm clock that always seemed to know when to wake you.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, little one.” Grogu laughs, pushing his way under the arms protecting your face from the light invading the Crest from its now open ramp. He’s the only thing that can rouse you from slumber without a fight. Well, him, and the scent of caff that’s currently wafting through the small area.

“Didn’t know you drank that stuff.” You eyed the cup enviously, trying to remember the last time you had the bitter treat. To your surprise, he extended the beverage to your still lying form, waiting as you pulled yourself up into a seated position.

“It’s from one of the stalls, so don’t blame me if it tastes like crap.”

As soon as you had the beverage retreated back to the other side of the ship, busying himself with his clutch of weapons as he began inspecting each one.

“I met with our client earlier and got our job location. We’ll have to head out soon.’’

Taking a tentative sip, you were surprised to find that it wasn’t the worst thing you had ever had. Not the best, but good enough to drink. And so you did, gulping down the burning liquid as quickly as possible, uncaring how your mouth would hate you later as you chased the caffeine that would soon flood your veins. What was almost more surprising then the taste was the fact that he had ordered it almost exactly as you would have. With all the possible combinations and amounts he could have gone with, getting this close was actually impressive.

“Thanks.” You managed to mumble between sips, missing the way his shoulders tensed as the child captured all your attention, insisting on his normal morning cuddles. Once he was satisfied you were up and on the move, stretching and raiding the food stores. With all your favorites gone, you were forced to settle on a dried meat of some sort. Maybe you could convince Mando to go supply shopping again sometime soon? Especially if you were going to be here for a little while.

“I thought you didn’t like those.” Mando questioned as you handed Grogu a piece, watching in amusement as he gulped the entire stripe down in one piece. “You always eat the fruits.”

“They actually taste like something.” You shrugged. “Besides, my mom always got us candied fruit as a treat when I was a kid.”

He pauses, and it takes a moment for you to realize your own free admission about your past, which had been hidden from him until now. He says nothing however, returning back to his weapons and thankfully not pushing the topic, which you were quick to shift.

“What about you? Got a sweet tooth under that bitter personality of yours?” He says nothing, making you gasp and turn to Grogu, tone teasing and kiddish as you speak. “He’s never had any candy before, has he? No wonder he’s so grumpy! Oh what a travesty!”

Grogu laughs, more at your tone than your words, which only gets louder as you swoop him up, heading down the ramp before Mando could decide whether or not to chuck a knife your way.

Just as yesterday, and every day on Tatooine you suspect, the sun shone bright and blinding on the sand that surrounded you. Already you could feel your body starting to heat up in contrast to the cool interior of the Crest. Whatever job it was, you hoped it was inside somewhere.

“Glad to see you're finally up. I was really starting to think he killed you.” Peli’s shout draws your attention to where she sits, stradling the wing of a cruiser as she works under its lifted panel.

You laugh. “I’d like to see him try. Then there would be nobody to laugh at him when he messes up.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want a cocky Mandalorian strutting around the system, now would we?”

You both laugh at the warrior’s expense, only interrupted as he emerged from the ship. For a protection detail, he was dressed surprisingly light.You had expected him to carry at least a few other things than his normal weapons with how he had been fiddling around with them earlier. The only extra item he has is what looks like a baton, like the troopers in the capitol use. A bit surprising, as you always took him for more of a blade or blaster guy, but when he tries holding it out to you, you realize that he doesn’t intend on using it.

“I don’t have time for this.” He growls at your hestiance. “With where we’re going, you need at least something to protect yourself with. Now take it, or I’ll tie it to your hand.”

Glaring, you take the item, trying to ignore it’s heft as you strap it around your waist. It’s not so much the weapon itself, but the fact that it was once presumably used by the Imperials to abuse others.

He nodded, content at your apparent surender. “You’ll make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble while we’re gone?” Peli waved him off, her own type of answer, already busy with her work once again. For as old as she appeared to be, she sure moves fast. With one last cuddle from Grogu for good luck, you were off.

Having slept into the afternoon thanks to the heat exhaustion and Mandos midnight sparring, the suns were already making their way to the horizon, yet the streets of town were busier than you had thought they would be. People rushed back and forth down the wide streets, ducking in narrow alleys between buildings and out of the way of the occasional speedr as it took up the path. Being around so many others after solitude with Mando and the child wasa like fresh air, listening to the white noise of the shops and species around you. The stalls held all kinds of things, from clothes and jewelry to machine parts, and even food that was being cooked in the open!

The entire time you and Mando walked in silence, content and on a mission with his long strides. Yet so busy were you with your own thoughts, wondering who had enough money to hire Mando for a small job, that you missed as the buildings around you began to change. The city itself was worn down in its own way from the constant assault from the heat, but slowly cracked walls were soothed over, growing taller as the atmosphere took a dip.

“We’re here.” His modulated voice broke your train of thought, finally taking in the buildings around you. You knew every planet, hell, every city, had its own form of a red light district. This was just lackluster compared to what you were used to.

‘Never go to those places. They bring nothing but trouble.’ Your mother’s voice chidded. It had been the one place you weren’t allowed to go, and you never had, even after you were on your own. Panic starts to set in, your pulse matching the pounding beat coming from within the building. Sweat is already pooling on your skin, and your knees are locked in place, refusing to move. It had been a mistake to think that going on a job with Mando would be at anyplace besides that where only lowlifes resided. Maybe you could come up with an excuse and head back to the ship? Though you suspected he would still make you work even if you faked illness.

“Hey,” a hand on your shoulder made you jump, looking to see your companion starring. You could almost imagine it was concern, though it was more likely he just wanted to get moving. Gritting your teeth, you shook off his touch. Your mother wasn't here now, and you were a grownup; you could handle yourself. And there was no way you would show any weakness in front of Mando and give him the satisfaction of knowing your fear. So, with shoulders squared, you walked through the automatic doors, beyond which was a world that had been forbidden for years.

The inside of the building was a complete switch up from it’s exterior. The dull tans and muted sounds were switched out with bright neon lights and music with a jumping beat. A light mist covered the area, seeping out from corner booths where patrons were lazily enjoying their pleasure of choice, be it spice or spotchka. All the while they watch the live entertainment that takes up a majority of the large space, a surprising variety of species both male and female dancing on stage for the crowd, as well as a few more personal shows going on throughout the floorspace.

Your stomach rolls at the stench, already anticipating a headache from all the sounds and smells as you power forward, following Mando who has taken the lead once again and heads towards the far wall. You were content keeping your head down and eyes locked on his heels, the loud music aiding in drowning out everything going on around you, but you still heard the small cry weaving through it all. Immediately, all your attention is drawn to one of the many dark corners that houses a large, round booth. Just beyond it’s shaded cover you can make out two figures. Curiosity, as well as the inability to mind your own business when it actually mattered, carried you feet away from Mando and towards the new duo.

“I’m sorry, I have to get back to the stage for my call.” The girl, a small looking Theelin, tries to pull away from the Trandotian who currently has a vice grip on her arm. With the way he sways in a telltale way and the number of empty pitchers on the table, you’re surprised he can even muster the strength. It seems they always manage to get stronger with every drop in intelligence, though it’s debatable if some even had any in the first place.

“C’mon. Aren’t you supposed to do your job and make me happy? No one will notice if you’re gone a bit longer.” He slurs over the sounds of the club. The girl tries to pull away yet again with no success, becoming more distressed by the second. The patrons drunken joking turns to anger that grows with every attempt to twist from his grip, which only tightens and prompts her to cry in pain once again.

“Listen here you little slut, I pay good money here and if I want y-” he slumps over, head slamming down on the table with such force it makes the girl, and even a few of the surrounding patrons, jump.

Strapping the baton back to your thigh, you pray Mando hadn’t seen. Never would you admit his insistence on the weapon came in handy, though you couldn’t deny the satisfaction you felt when he dropped like a rock with one hit. The girl’s eyes jumped from the now unconscious man to you, warry, and you couldn’t blame her. Unsure of how to break the tension after such an introduction, you simply said the first thing that came to mind.

“You should get some ice on that.” You nodded to her wrist, which was currently cradled against her chest. “Ya know, before it bruises.”

She nodded, still shocked as she slowly edged her way around you and back towards the main stage. A trembling ‘thank you’ was all she said before scurrying off, practically tripping in her tall heels as she ran to and disappeared through a door to what you assumed was the back room.

You watch for a moment, surprised by her reaction. Nobody had ever treated you with such caution before, never one to cut an imposing figure. Maybe some of Mandos' intimidation had rubbed off on you? You weren’t even wearing all the layers you normally did, so your bulk was even cut down. Well, no time to dwell. The girl was long gone and you had a job to do unfortunately. Picking your way back through the crowd in the direction he had last been heading, you ignored the leering gazes and jeers of those around you, dodging away from the occasional wandering hand as you searched for the one who dragged you here in the first place.

You find him near the furthest wall from the entrance. Here there is a small lift to the floor, creating the illusion of a new area without any walls and removing its occupance from the others. He’s standing across from who you assume was the client. An older looking man, reclined back on the couch as he downs his own drink, the signature blue of spotchka shining through the delicate glass, with another sitting next to him and telling of another missing guest to the group. His head is thrown back, his laugh booming as you approach.

“Ah, this must be your friend!” He waves you over, gesturing for you to sit on the seating across from him which Manod has neglected, instead standing stiffly off to the side. Some things never changed, you supposed. His manners would always be lacking apparently.

“Just..taking care of some things.” You explain, practically feeling Mando’s question burning into you.

“Well, it’s good to know that I’m getting my credit’s worth!” He sighs, running a hand over his face and roughly rubbing at his eyes. “Things have been getting rowdy these past few nights. With the normal security gone people think they can just do whatever they want! No manners around here, I swear.”

“So we’re just here to keep things under control?” You question. Mando hadn’t really expanded on what you were doing here apart from his initial explanation of simply 'protection’.

“Yup. Make sure the guests don’t get too comfortable, without paying the right price that is.” His laugh drained away any fondness you had for him previously. Slavery wasn’t anything new to the galaxy, invading every corner of the systems and being at the top of the list for most profitable incomes, but it still set your blood boiling whenever you were forced to bear witness to its cruelty.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” He’s already waving over a waiter, brows dipping as you politely decline. “You mercenaries. Always so stiff on the job.” He laughs once again,only pausing as his eyes lock onto something over your shoulder.

You hear her before you see her, voice deeper than one may expect but still smooth in greeting as she makes her way into the smaller area, settling next to the man, who immediately throws his arm around her, bringing her closer.

“This is Areline. I’m afraid she's the only one off limits if you find yourself hankering for some company. All mine she is.”

She’s a beautiful twi'lek, even by normal standards. Her skin is a rare shade of white, practically glowing under the neon lights. With every flash, eyes like that of the most polished sea glass shone back. A stunning combination among the many there were in the species. Even so, her outfit was one of the most surprising things, the deep blue fabric long and flowing, shining with the same shifting light that caught the silver bands along her leku. It’s not her looks that cause you to stiffen, or how her voice purrs in greeting to Mando; nor the way her eyes lock with yours as her head turns your way.

It’s because you know her.

It had been so long since you had thought of anyone from your childhood, let alone seen them. But to now meet your mother’s closest friend, someone you had called an aunt growing up, it was like being dunked in a tub of ice. She recognizes you, you know she does from the way her body freezes to her eyes darting up and down your form. Yet she does a good job of hiding it, no one else but you appearing to notice.

“Benivo, I just came by to check on you and make sure you were alright. Not overworking yourself too much with how busy it is tonight?” She reaches for the bottle of spotchka, refilling his glass to the brim and handing it over without spilling a drop.

“Ah, not to worry my dear. I’ve got these two now, so there shouldn’t be any problems tonight.”

He relaxes, tossing his feet up on the table with a sigh. Mando had yet to say a word, already fallen back into his persona of the silent bounty hunter, and Areline had yet to take her eyes off you, leaving you squirming in the awkward silence.

“Well, now that I know you’re alright I’ll go check back in on the others. It is a busy night after all.” She rose, just as graceful as she walked, her hands trailing along his arm as she went. You were quick to jump after her.

“I’ll go have a look around.” Benivo only nods, already nubed with alcohol, and Mando watches you go without a word.

The main floor is already more crowded than you left it, having to squeeze between bodies without the demanding presence Mando has. All the while your eyes scan the crowd, trying to pick out any familiar flash of white among them. With all the bodies around you, it wasn’t a concern when one happened to brush against you. You didn’t have any credits to steal, and if they wanted to take your baton then you weren’t going to stop them. Mando more than likely had more on the ship. What was concerning was when a hand grabbed your own, pulling you to the edge of the crowd and into a corner booth. Prepped for a fight, your hand was already on your weapon.

“I can’t believe it’s really you.” Areline gasped, pulling your rigid body into a tight embrace. It felt…odd, to be touched like this. Your body's natural instinct tells you to pull away, but the Twi’lek was surprisingly strong, only letting go when she was ready.

“You’ve grown so much!” She takes your face in her hands, twisting your head each and every direction. “You’ve been eating well.” Her voice is cheerful, and it almost hurts when you pry her hands away, your own voice edged with venom.

“So have you.”

Her face falls, every ounce of energy leaving her like a droid that's been powered down. She takes a seat in the empty booth, gesturing for you to do the same.

“After what happened on Corellia, things fell apart for everyone in the district. I could hardly keep myself alive, let alone anyone else. A few weeks later Benivo arrived looking for new workers.”

“So you sold yourself to him.” It was hard to keep the contempt out of your voice. She was the person who had instilled your hatred for slavery in the galaxy, the topic always a touchy one with how her own species was treated. Now here she was, doing the bidding of some man who had to do nothing more than wave some food and clothes in front of her.

You followed her gaze to said man, anger still simmering.

“He’s not a great person, but he’s by no means the worst. I’ve been able to have a life here thanks to him. Nobody stays desirable forever in this business you know. As I aged and slowly lost patrons he allowed me to take over the books. Now all I do is manage the money and others, making sure nothing is out of order.”

You still refuse to look at her, even as her hands clasp your own, almost pleading.

“I never wanted to leave you there alone, but when I tried to find you it was like you vanished into thin air!”

You scoffed. “I was a bit busy trying to survive on my own.”

“That’s not what happened. And it seems you didn’t need me after all.” Areline’s tone grew defensive, the fire returning to her eyes as her shoulders squared. Her anger only fueled your own, voice raising to a yell.

“How would you know? You weren’t there!” The woman you had always been told to trust, had watched you when you were young and was your mother’s closest friend, the only other person you had ever considered family, had left when you needed her the most! And she expected you to be fine with that? All these years you could have been dead and she wouldn’t have known the difference!

The outburst drew the attention of a few close by patrons, who were just as quick to look away when Areline sent a scathing glare.

“Maybe I wasn’t, but look at you!” She moved to sit next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and bringing you closer. “Your mother would be so proud. You’ve grown to be so strong and beautiful, getting yourself off the planet just like she always wanted to do for you. And,” She laughed, nodding her head to where Mando still stood guard. He had been watching the interaction, his helmet quickly looking the other way as he was caught. “You managed to nab yourself quite a good looking Mandalorian.”

You can’t help but crack a smile. Staying angry at Areline had always been impossible when you were younger, and it seemed the years had little effect on her talent of charming others. One of the only things she hadn’t been able to teach you as a child. Too stubborn; like a bantha, she had always said.

“You should date him you know, I would be good to have someone like that always watching your back.”

“Please, I would be more likely to beat him up.”

“He’s probably into that.”

It's impossible to keep your laugh in this time, now relaxed as the thought of anyone interacting with Mando in a way that wasn’t awkward or professional filled your mind. He would freeze on the spot.

“Here.” Areline reached around her neck, unclipping one of her many necklaces and bringing it from its hiding place beneath her clothes. Pressing it into your own hand, she was able to surprise you yet again with a relic from the past.

“There wasn’t much left, but I managed to find it in the rubble of the complex.”

The necklace was made of metal; from what kind was just as much a mystery as the symbols carved into it. Your mother had owned it for as long as you could remember. She never wore it, but it was always kept in a box, hidden from any would-be thieves and brought out on special occasions. Every once in a while though, when she thought you were sleeping, she would get it down, softly cradling the jewelry to her chest as she silently wept. The entire time she would whisper the same name over and over like a montra. You had never met the person, and as much as you wanted to know you never asked.

“You’ve kept it all this time?�� Your fingers ghost over the item, fearful it may disappear at any moment. Areline chuckled.

“Like I said, you weren't the easiest person to find. Though I had a feeling you would eventually find your way to it.”

You break, pulling the aged Twi’lek into a hug, hiding your stinging eyes in her shoulder. An uncomfortable position considering her short stature, but one you wished you could remain in forever.

“Thank you.”

You stay like that for a few moments, enjoying each other's presence, before she pulls away. Aching to follow, she places a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I have to get back to work. I wasn’t lying when I said we were busy. But keep up the good work.”

You’re confused for the moment, not having done anything yet in the time you’ve been there. She gestures to the main stage, where a new song has started up. The Theelin from before is up, gracefully dancing along the edge until she catches your eye, sending a wink your way as she does a flip and causing you to blush.

Areline stands, tossing one last comment over her shoulder as she goes. “Not many people are willing to stand up for them, and there’s only so much that I can do.”

You watch as she goes, disappearing back into the crowd, who give her a wider berthen than you were afforded. Now alone, you allow yourself to cool down after your rollercoaster of emotions. It was almost as taxing as an actual fight, leaving you feeling tired. Not a good thing when you had the rest of the night to get through, and Mando hadn’t been lying when he said there were some sketchy characters around here. Being anything but alert wasn’t a good idea. Nothing a drink wouldn’t fix though.

Threading your way back over to where the bar was, you catch the attention of the Weequay working there, ordering a drink to tide you over for the night. It seems Benivo had passed along the orders of drinks on the house, as he didn’t ask for a single credit as he silently slid the glass your way.

Relishing the way the cool drink contrasted the stifling hot air of the room, you allowed your eyes to wander. Partially doing your job of watching for anyone causing trouble, while also taking interest in the shenanigans the patrons would get themselves into. Some stumbled around, falling to the ground and on others as they tried to retain their balance, while others showed no shame as they laughed and jeered loudy at the dancers, occasionally getting handsy with the servers as well. They seemed to have little issue with the drunk’s wandering hands, either ignoring them or simply slapping them away when they became too comfortable. It hardly seemed that you were needed despite Benivo’s worry, though it could just as easily be the mere presence of the Mandalorian that kept the patrons in line. He stood in the same spot next to the host, who had yet to give up his quest of trying to get the warrior to hold a conversation, body rigid. Not different from how he normally held himself, but you had no doubt that the awkward man was uncomfortable with the number of workers coming up to him, undoubtedly with their own propositions. He declined all of course, but the sheer number of them was amusing when there were others who could hardly bring themselves to look at him. Your thoughts drift back to what Areline had said earlier; ‘A good looking Mandalorian.’.

You had never seen his face, but his hardass stoic and silent type certainly had its draw to specific crowds. The commanding aura that clogged with the air around him was attractive, you had to admit. Long ago, you don’t know exactly when, you decided that he had brown eyes under that helmet. Everything about him was intimidating and all encompassing, reminding you of the expansive color.His voice, though changed by his modulator, was undoubtedly a warm tenor. The thought of a beard had always been entertained when you pictured him, with his lack of self care you had no doubt he found shaving to be troublesome, though it would definitely be short to keep the space inside from getting too tight. You had never seen any peeking out from underneath either, though the cowl around his neck made it hard to see anything sometimes. Maker, never had you felt more like a Mirialan, getting excited and feeling like you knew some sort of big secret whenever you saw the occasional flash of skin.

As if sensing your stare, his helmet looks in your direction. It’s hard to tell if he’s actually looking at you or just the general direction, but you avert your gaze, hoping the array of colors reflecting off his armor was just as blinding for him as it was for everyone else.

Choking down the rest of your drink, you abandon your spot by the bar in favor of pacing the walls of the room. With each lap you can feel your nerves quitting back down, your pace shifting from an almost jog to a slinking walk. The cautious glances thrown your way slowed until they had altogether stopped. The only ones who seemed to notice you still were the workers, who threw sidelong glances or occasionally interrupted your pacing to ask if you needed anything, to which you politely declined. Eventually your legs began to tire, and you made your way back over to where Mando stood. Benivo is occupied with another man who sat across from him, the empty bottles between them nearly covering the whole table.

“Seems like you’re having fun.” You couldn’t help but tease him. “It seems like we can get the stick out of your rear yet. Maybe that’s it; you’re just pent up.”

“I could say the same about you. You seemed quite friendly with that Twi’lek.” Your mood instantly soured at his words, the lack of privacy insulting. Even if he had been caught staring, common sense would tell you not to bring it up, though your belief he had any was constantly diminishing.

“An old family friend, not that it’s any of your business.”

“It seems like everyone knows more about you than me. Not a good look when

You almost laugh. “Like you’re any better? Mr.Dark and mysterious?”

His chin tilted up and you could practically see him glaring through the visor.You both stood tall, shoulders squared and gearing up for an argument, only for the loud clinking of glass and a hearty sigh to draw your attention.

Benivo, his guest now long gone, had already found his new entertainment.

“Honestly, you two are worse than my parents. Always at each other’s throats.” he nods in your direction. “You’re a real spitfire, just like her. Eyes just as shifty too. Stubborn men need headstrong women like you to keep them on their toes.” His eyes are far away and glossy from the liquor. He seemed almost deaged for a moment, and you had a flash of the man he might have been before he got involved in the darker side of things. Without all the wrinkles of stress and tired eyes that had seen horrendous acts both in and out of the business. Not everyone seeks out this life. It’s more often thrust upon them, a way to survive and thrive, and you almost feel bad for him. Almost.

“And you have someone to protect you now. Brain and brawns make the best pairing you know.”

You bite your tongue, holding back a retort. In his drunken stupor he may think it was a compliment but it was just as backhanded as any you’d ever received. Typical.

“I know how to fight. I wouldn’t be alive if I couldn’t.”

“Last I checked, I was the one patching you up.” Mando but in,as if he couldn’t help himself in reminding you of your near death experience. You stepped towards him, chest to chest and having to crane your neck to look at him as you both refused to back down. You stared at your own reflection, which glared back as you jabbed a finger into his chest.

“I’m not the one with fancy armor, and who was the one that needed saving in the first place?”

His shoulders tightened, body twitching forward as his helmet brushed your head. The cool metal sent a chill down your spine, yet you refused to back down. This time you had him pinned against the wall feeling threatened. You couldn’t lift him off his feet maybe, but words could be just as choking and you had plenty to say.

Before the tongue lashing can go any further Benivo interrupts once again.

“As entertaining as it would be, I would like you both to remain in one piece while you work for me. After that you can do whatever you want but in the meantime, would you fetch Areline for me, Mando?”

You watch him go, still simmering, and while you would have been fine sitting in silence until he returned Benivo hadn’t finished giving his own unsolicited advice apparently.

“You know, it’s none of my business but-”

“You’re right, it’s not.” He pauses, taken aback by your interruption when you had been the polite one up until now, but you were done with everyone for the night. He would have to pay you regardless so all manners were thrown out the window.

“The life of the Mandalorian isn’t an easy one, especially nowadays.”

“Nobody's life is easy.” You growl. “Doesn’t give hima reason to be a karking sleemo.”

“No.” He admits, much to your surprise. “But maybe we all just need a bit more understanding. This galaxy is far too full of those who see in black and white, and you would be hard pressed to find anyone who is truly good.”

The soberness to his voice takes you by surprise. He was obviously the loud and boisterous type, not noticing much outside his own concerns. It’s probably why he needed Areline to keep everything in order. Cantinas, clubs, collectors; they were all the same. Just as concerned with their own fun as they weren’t in what happened to those that worked for them. His echoing words did little to change your feelings about him, but they did give reason to pause.

“Regardless, you must come visit again soon! Areline has developed quite the pep at your presence.’’ Just as quick as it appeared, any trace of seriousness was gone, his red face turning jovial once again.

“I doubt that will happen.” Din’s voice makes you jolt, spinning to see him now accompanied by Areline who gives your shoulder a quick squeeze before moving to take her spot next to Benivo. “This time of year, with profits from harvest coming in, gammbling picks up.”

It takes a moment for you to understand what he’s saying. More gambling meant more debts, and more debts meant more bounties. Endless travels were undoubtedly in the near future.

“Of course of course!” Benivo laughs. “You Mandalorians are always working.”

The rest of the night is without issue, gladly distracting yourself with Areline and ignoring Mando, who seems content to do the same. A couple fights between drunk patrons that need to be broken up, and even one where you get to watch Mando throw a man out the door like he’s nothing more than a loth kitten. It’s almost disappointing when the patrons start to shuffle out, some needing a bit of motivation, signaling the close of the club. While Mando collects the credits from Benivo Areline pulls you aside.

“Keep in touch.” She passes a slip of paper with a commlink scribbled on it. You want to cry, instead burying your face in her shoulder. Escorting you from the building, she stans waving at the entrance until she is nothing more than a smudge, completely cut off as you round the corner street.

“I don’t know why you’re always complaining. That was easy.” Despite your promise to ignore him, you can’t help but let the dig slip. So many times he had come back huffing and puffing, complaining about one thing or another and lumbering around the ship in a bad mood.

“I would hardly consider that a job. There wasn’t even a bounty to chase down.”

The suns haven’t even begun to crest the horizon, still so early in the morning that the shops have yet to open. Despite having slept late into the day yesterday you were still tired. A nice nap sounded wonderful, but you doubted the child would let you get any sleep.

“Whatever.” You shrug, slinging an arm over your chest as you stretch and slowly roll your neck, satisfied with the symphony of crunches it gives. “I think you’re not as tough as you thought you were. Just trying to compensate for something mayb-”

“Quite.” He cuts you off, stopping dead in his tracks and nearly making you run into him. A small jolt of panic follows as he grabs your arm. Maybe you had really touched a sore spot this time.

“Listen, I was just messing with you. You’ve been pushing my buttons all night so you can’t even say you didn’t deserve it.” He says nothing, only continuing to stare as you sweat. The street is so quiet you could have heard a pin drop, absent of even the wind that seemed to blow all the time but now.

Silent, apart from the blaster shot.

The sound had hardly reached your ears before you were being pulled along, or more like dragged, behind Mando as he hauled through the streets.

“Wh-what just happened.”

“They found us.” He grunted, vaulting over a low diving wall as he took a shortcut off path. His direction was erratic, sharply turning left or right seemingly at random in an attempt to shake off the pursuers you had yet to see. He still had hold of your wrist even though you had caught your footing five jumps ago. Ridiculous considering you could probably run faster than him, but he was the only one who knew where you were going. Your question of who was answered shortly as you rounded the corner, coming face to face with a familiar pair of blue eyes, seething from under his blond hair.

Corin.

A chill ran down your spine as he leveled his blaster right at you, shooting off two rounds in quick succession. Shots that would have hit your shocked figure if Mando hadn’t pulled you out of the way, ripping the blaster from his hand. Corin wasn’t done yet, jumping forward and tackling Mando to the ground and finally ripping his grip away. The two rolled around on the ground, grunting and exchanging blows. Eyes darting around, his sidekickers were nowhere to be seen and only making you panic more. Mando was being attacked by your lifetime tormentor and there was a large possibility the other two would show up soon. You had to do something before that happened. You wracked your brain in a panic, unsure what to do to get the two men apart. There was no way you were going to get in between them, and your grappling skills were nothing to sneeze at but they both far outmatched you. Then it hit you.

Practically ripping the cursed baton Mando had insisted you carry from its strap, you don’t even bother aiming before bringing it down. Mando had armor over most things,and if he came out of it with a couple bruises then you could finally consider yourself even.

“I’ll kill you! You-” Corin is silenced as the empire grade steel connects with his skull. His eyes roll back in his head, back arching in a silent scream, before falling to the ground.

“C’mon.” You grab the panting Mandalorian, tugging him to his feet. Together you sprint, rounding the corner just as you hear the shouts of others. They grow closer, and sure enough the next time you look back Sho and Evert are not far behind and gaining. Mando is lagging behind, out of breath from his tumble. At this rate they would catch up in no time, and you doubt they would be glad to see you after the last time.

Running through the dozens of stalls, all it took was one kick to the support beam, and everything came down. A tactic you had used many times to escape before in the resulting chaos. It was only a plus when the exhaust cylinders came crashing down with the fabric roofs, pinning the two men in a heap of curses. Hopefully you would get lucky and they would suffocate under there.

You ran, now the one doing the dragging, until your lungs finally forced you to stop. You both stood, crouched over and panting. Your lungs burned, and you knew your body would hate you later, but it was still better than how Mando was faring. He may be used to prolonged combat, but running in full armor through a desert wasn’t fun for anyone. A jolt of guilt washes over you as you see him clutching at his arm, right in the crook of his elbow where blood has already begun to seep through and stain the fabric. Corin must have had a blade when they were wrestling. A fight he wouldn’t have had to be in if you hadn’t froze.

“How-how did they find us? Why did they?”

Mando braced himself against the wall, gasping through his modulator. “I don’t know, but we can’t stay here.” He pushed himself up, leading the way down yet another back alley. You know he’s right, but you find yourself reluctant to agree. The hot, dry air of Mos Espa was horrid, but you had grown to like Peli and her little hanger. It was something you had thought of doing when you were younger. Opening a shop of your own on a small planet in a small town. Nobody bothers you and enough credits to live comfortably. It seems ridiculous to think of now, but to eleven year old you it was the dream. Now here you are, being run off another planet in less than a week.

“If Corin’s after us then we’re in trouble. He may be a dirty sleemo, but he’s good at his job.” You admit. He was good at what he did; that’s why he was one of Sozin’s main enforcers and received preferred favor. When he got a job, he completed it no matter what.

“Then we’ll have to go somewhere he doesn’t know.”

You nearly scoff. There were few places uncharted in this galaxy, and if someone knew about it then chances were he could find you. Mando had his own ways though, and if anyone could drop off the face of the galaxy it was him. Plus, now you knew they were looking for you.

“Well, look on the brightside.” You manage to laugh. “At least we didn’t lead them back to Peli’s.”

#star wars #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandolorian #din dijarin #grogu #mando #x reader #star wars x reader #swtcw #baby yoda

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bimswritings · 2 years

Text

White Christmas

Warnings:None

Summary: Wholesome dad Din teaches Grogu a few things he can do with snow.

My contribution to the gift exchange in @starwarsfandomfests for @bluedaddysgirl . It was originally intended to be two pics, but I made this and my writer brain couldn't help but think of a story behind it! Still might post the other one later this week. I hope you enjoy!

Christmas had always been a special time of year for Din. Not necessarily for the holiday itself, but the time surrounding it. It held nothing but happiness and warmth in each memory associated with it. As a child, before he was adopted into the covert, it was a big celebration on his home world and especially in his family. Everyone from both sides of the family would come over to his house, be it cousins, great aunts and uncles, or even grandma Elle, who nobody knew how she was related to the family, yet never second guessed her presence with any event or invite.

The weeks before would be spent playing with his friends in the relieving cool air or the normally scolding planet, even playing in the occasional snow that managed to fall every so often. It was never much, just enough to cover the ground in a layer of thin white blanket, but enough for them to still manage to make and nail each other with snowballs, always leaving every kid on high alert for a surprise attack. Their town even held a snowman competition when there was enough every year, one of which he proudly held the title to for years in each age group.

And when it grew too dark, or his fingers and toes became numb with the chilly air that sent his face flush, he would head back home. Back to his mother, who seemed to always have a warm drink or meal just as he trudged through the door. She would give it to him at the table, along with a kiss that warmed him just as much. Almost like magic, and he would accuse her of having secret powers for years.

On particularly cold nights in the very middle of the cold months, they would all curl up near the fire. He would be cradled into his mother’s side while his father slung an arm over the both of them, tucking them both in as he read aloud from one of his many books that lined the shelves. On those nights, he would fall asleep to the baritone of his father’s voice, only stirring as he was carried to bed hours later.

But that was all so long ago it may have been another life entirely. Ever since he had been taken in as a foundling, Christmas had never felt the same, though the older ones did their best for the holiday, knowing how important it was to many foundlings and others from the covert whose families celebrated. On Nevarro, there was never snow and it was always just a tad too warm for comfort, yet the situation of their subterranean living allowed them to have a communal fire lit in the common area, though he could remember for a number of years they had used the forge of the Armorer. It had been quite a sight to see her normally dark and intimidating space transformed into a place all the children and even adults would gather to socialize and laugh. There you could also find a tree covered in dozens of handmade ornaments from the younglings at the school, as well as some donated by others for the season. All around there would be decorations hanging from every level the kids could reach, growing more sparse as the higher places grew out of their reach.

Presents had never been that important to any of them, more than content with the festivities and treats the kitchen managed to produce, but they always made sure each youngling and foundling had something to open on the morning of, with the adults trading in between themselves. Paz was always the most involved with this, making sure everything was checked off and nobody would feel left out. If there were ever any time where there was no one to get anything for a child he would take it on himself, sometimes having a dozen children to get for. He never complained a whisper, pulling from his own personal funds to get arguably the best gifts, though the Alor told him it would be more than fine to pull from the tribe's treasury.

Despite their best efforts to make it feel warm and inviting, he had always felt worse this time of year, still haunted by his family’s ghosts. He would never be able to celebrate with them again. Never hear the booming laugh of his uncles as his father made them all laugh with his wit, nor the voice of his mother calling everyone into the kitchen to eat. Instead, he locked himself away from the others in his room, later taking on every chance to escape the covert when he became a provider for the tribe, which led to his current situation, crouched under the control panel as he sneakily wrapped the stuffed creature in cloth.

The bright colors of the mysterious form had caught his eye in the market earlier and he knew it would make a nice addition to the Grogu’s collection. The Armorer had insisted he bring the child with him on his supply run, and though he felt guilty taking him when the festivities at the covert would be much more enjoyable for him, he didn’t put up much of an argument. The child had become the closest thing he had to a family outside the clan. Though he still had yet to officially claim him, everyone considered the child to be a part of his clan despite his claims he was just watching over him.

Old habits die hard, he assumed, cringing as he looked at the poorly wrapped gift. It was a good thing he would be more interested in the plush inside rather than his poor attempt at wrapping. Speaking of…

“Grogu?” He called out, his voice echoing through the warming ship. They were just preparing to leave the planet, which had the audacity to assault him with biting air and freezing temperatures, yet provide no snow.

He stood, ready to find the trouble maker. It wasn’t like he was expecting an answer, the child still had not spoken a word that made a lick of sense, but normally he would still make some sort of noise to let him know where he was at. Yet the longer he searched, the more panicked he grew.

“Grogu? Grogu!” Looking under every shelf and in every nook and cranny, he still couldn’t find him. Just about ready to go into full out panic mode when a breeze caught his attention, creeping in and exploiting every opening in his clothes.

Whipping around he saw that the ramp was indeed open, cracked just enough for a little gremlin of small size to slip through. Slamming the ramp’s lever, he was greeted with a face full of cold air and the relieving sight of his worry standing just a dozen feet away. The red hat given to him by one of the elders made him stand out against the white surrounding him, ears sticking out from the holes she had meticulously knitted into them.

“You can’t scare me like that.” He scolded, scoping the child into his arms, though he gave no acknowledgement to the sudden change in altitude. He was too fixated on the world around him. It still didn’t stop the Mandalorian from lecturing him.

“It’s dangerous out here. Why would..you..”

Din slowed, finally realizing what had the child’s attention.

All around them was a world of white, covering every inch of ground and clinging to the bark of the trees surrounding them. A storm must have blown in while he was taking a nap, preparing for the long flight back.

He had been to many planets with snow, yet none looked so much like his home planet. Grogu was equally enraptured, reaching out for the large flakes falling from the sky. The delicate object landed on his hand, staying only a moment before melting away. He cooed happily, reaching for another as Din felt his heart melt just as the snowflake had.

Looking around, he spotted a clump of snow surrounded by footprints, realizing with a jolt that he must have been trying to make something, only to be interrupted by Din himself.

“You know,” he set Grogu down, kneeling as he ran his glove through the snow, collecting a handful. “I used to be pretty good at making these.”

Grogu smiled, or at least what he thought was a smile, and began working on his project once again. A few minutes later Din leaned back, watching as the child pushed two stones he had handed him into their creation. It was a mock imitation in the child’s own likeness, though he seemed ecstatic with himself as he waddled a few steps back to look, taking a seat on Din’s ankle.

They sat like that for a moment, appreciating their work as the snow continued to fall around them. He liked this. This feeling he had in his chest. It had been so long since he had last felt like this, he almost forgot what it felt like.

He felt content. Happy even. Was this what it was like back at the covert? Had he been hiding himself away for so long for nothing? Maybe…maybe this year he would see if the Alor would let him stay. He had always heard Paz talking about how he needed more help around this time, so there was still work for him to do a bit closer to them.

The moment ended as he noticed a slight shiver come from Grogu, apparently only now feeling the chill of the snow. Taking him into his arms once again, he started back towards the ship where they could both warm up. His mind drifted back to the present sitting on the high shelf. It was a bit early but there was no reason he couldn’t get him something else, right? Besides, it would help him warm up while Din re-hydrated some stew mix for the both of them.

"Come on." Din softly smiled from under his helmet, bringing his cape around to protect Grogu from the numbing wind that had picked up. "I have something for you.''

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bimswritings · 2 years

Text

A little something for my Paz simps (It’s me, I’m the Paz simp). I hope we get more heavy infantry Mandos in season three, just so I can get another crumb of him on screen.

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bimswritings · 2 years

Text

This is Our Way: Ch5

Pt. 1 2 3 4( available on archive)

Ao3

Kofi

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, 18+ situations, mention of slavery/torture/prostitution

For the sake of getting my next story outline started, would you want to read a Rex fic or Paz?

__________________________

“I’m heading up.” The Mandalorian mumbles as he passes, canteen and a handful of rations in hand. He doesn’t need to say anything else, the message loud and clear; ‘don’t bother me.’

You don’t even bother looking up as he clanks past, eyes lazily skimming the page long ago memorized as you throw a mock salute in his direction, too focused on the same manual you’d been through an egregious number of times, though there was little else to pass the time. It had gotten to the point where you could have easily recited it in your sleep, which was really starting to look like a possibility. The altered concept of time and location in deep space never failed to lull your senses.

The child was currently napping at your side, the occasional murmur escaping him as he shifted to get more comfortable, and you were still hours away from their next stop. Your new instrument was tempting, anything to chase away the defining silence, though with the risk of the child trying to eat it as he did all new objects, or Mando taking it away once again out of spite or annoyance, you decided it would be best to keep it packed away.

Said man can be heard making his way up the ladder, footsteps echoing through the metal overhead before falling back into silence. Life is like that a lot now; silent. Since the incident back on Nevarro he had become even more closed off, normal sharp comment withheld and only talking to give instruction. He didn't even bother telling you when he would be back from his trips, and while fine as you didn’t particularly feel like speaking to him either it left you jumping every time the platform lowered, wondering if it was just him or someone looking to score a free ride. Still, there wasn’t much to complain about besides that, everything else remained the same. It was better to enjoy what you had now; it would all end soon anyways.

Casting a look towards your injured leg, you gave it another experimental shake, only to receive the dullest of aches in return. None of the same biting pain that had first plagued you. It was both a relief and stressor, being the only thing keeping you here. It was his own strict honor code that he allowed you to stay, your injury sustained because you helped him, but as soon as you were better what’s to stop him from just leaving you on some random planet? In his eyes and many others, any and all debts would be paid.

Despite all the evidence against it, there was still a shred of hope, nestled stubbornly in your head and refusing to leave no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise. A hope that you would actually be able to stay. Despite his carefully crafted persona of an uncaring and cold bounty hunter, your view of him had slowly warped. One could only watch him trip over objects strewn about by the child, scold said child, then coddle him when he grew upset so many times before it became clear it was just a front. The soft spot he had for the small creature was almost sweet. Watching him fall face first out of his seat when the material of his cowl got caught on a stray piece of metal also didn’t help that image. He was still terrifying by any means, but in less of a berserk ranicore way and more of an overpowering wookie way. Just as scary and strong, only more reasonable.

Whatever the case, you would miss the little womprat. His cuddles at night worked like the charms that hung over your bed as a child, the same color as his skin funnily enough, catching the bad dreams before they could reach you. Instead of absorbing them, you liked to think he just ate them, like he did with everything else. You could only wish you had his stomach of steel. It would have saved you from many bad experiences after eating dumpster food you thought was still good.

The ship jostled, nearly sending you rolling from the bed as the child slid from your side, coming to a stop when he bumped into the wall. Just when you thought you could get some peace.

Gathering yourself, you shoot a scathing look towards the entrance of the cockpit.

“Hey, watch your flying up their buddy!” Unsurprisingly, there’s no answer.

‘Stupid Mandalorian.’

Grumbling, you half crawl half slide over to where your charge had stopped, now awake and just as excited as you about it.

“Hey hey, it’s alright.” Scooping him up, you fix the blanket back around him. The chill of space was no joke, crouched like a waiting predator and always looking for an opportunity to slip in and numb fingers and toes.

“Your dad is just a jerk.” He cooed happily, quickly turning into a yawn.

Pushing off the ground, you began pacing back and forth, gently swaying with each step. He was persistent as always, stubbornly trying to remain awake despite obviously being tired. All that ever resulted from his efforts was one cranky kid and two exasperated adults. Being tired yourself, you just wanted to get him to sleep so you could join him without the worry that he would wander off. He didn’t care what you wanted however, refusing to close his eyes for even a second. Maker, why were children so against sleep? You were the same way when younger, always dodging your mother’s attempts to wrestle you into bed at night. Ironically, now it was a struggle to find time to sleep, let alone someone to tuck you in with a kiss.

Remembering your mother gave you an idea. How she would get you to sleep when she needed to head to work. He was a bit younger, but it should work just the same. A kid was a kid, right?

Moving towards the front of the ship, away from the engines and their roaring, you find yourself near the bottom of the ladder. It was still quiet, the Mandalorian not having made a sound since heading up. It was possible that he had gone up to sleep himself, resulting in the earlier jerking, or he could still be wide awake and ignoring you like normal. Whatever the case, you should be fine as long as you were quiet.

Slow, almost hesitant, you begin to sing. A song your mother had taught you and was ingrained in both the earliest and happiest times of your childhood. The tune alone was enough to bring comfort to any who heard it. It had been so long since you last thought of the song, let alone sang or even hummed, that it was almost hard to remember the words. But it was like flying a ship. A skill that got rusty, but you never really forgot.

Along with the words, however, came the memories. Ones you had long ago buried. ____________________________________________________________ The lights of the fluorescent lamps and neon signs reflected off the metal city in a rainbow of colors and patterns. They boasted many services, from spare parts to live shows, and the sound of music blaring from the latter could be heard for blocks. You had always been warned to never go in those places, or even near them. Only the worst types of people went there, your mother claimed.

It was all too easy to block them out, focused on one thing and one thing only; Tangul. A sweet treat sold by only one vendor in the downtown district. A staple of your childhood, as well as your mother’s, and her mother’s, and so on. The smell always came before you rounded the corner to where the little cart was always set up every seventh rotation. The owner would always greet you by name, chatting with your mother while making the treats to order. All the while you would watch through a window in the front, mesmerized by the way the sugar would coat each of the skewered light green cubes in an amber glaze. Brushing your teeth twice was always worth it for the sticky treat, though the price was debatable. It turns out fresh fruit is expensive no matter where you go.

On the way back it was always a game to see who could keep their balance on the street's edge longer. It would only be years later when you realized she would always let you win, though the same could not be said for sleep that night. Hyped up on sugar, it was always a struggle to even stay still, let alone sleep, leaving her to pull out her secret weapon. It had been taught to her by your father, a man long gone years ago. Yet whenever your mother spoke of him it was always with a tone of warmth, not a single sliver of malice nor curse every invading her words. It was also the only time you ever saw the sadness truly leave her eyes, replaced with fog as she remembered back to times long gone.

Even if he had taught it to her, there was no way he could make it sound as beautiful. The result was instant, settled by the end of the first verse and out by the last. And without fail, every time, she would press a kiss to your forehead, leaving the scent of sugar from the treats and the floral notes of her perfume. Gone off to work once again and leaving you with only echos.

“Good night, Verd’ika.” _______________________________________________________________

The metal walls of the Crest amplified the sound, making the somber song that much more haunting. Even without knowing what the words were it was easy to know it wasn’t particularly happy. But the melody was so beautiful, soft and slow, foreign sounds rolling off the tongue with ease.

By the time you finished the last verse the child was fast asleep, not a peep escaping as he snuggled, content, deeper into your arms. He looks so peaceful, making your own eyes heavy just looking at him. Carefully, you lowered yourself to the floor, not yet ready to let go of the bundle. His warmth radiated in every direction, remarkable considering the chill that held the rest of the ship. Traveling was never comfortable, hyperspace even less so. It’s subtle rocking lulled you in much the same way you had the child just moments before.

Blinking became a chore, every time it was harder to open your eyes, until finally they just remained closed. Not even the rouge wrench jabbing your side is enough to matter, doing nothing to keep you from falling asleep.

Your rest is dreamless, as it always was when the child slept with you. The type of sleep that left you feeling well rested, ready to take on whatever trouble either of your crewmates had gotten into. The enigma made you really start to take the Mandalorian’s claims that the creature had mystical powers, but the relief it provided kept you from questioning it too much.

Not even a herd of ranicor could wake you, nor the loudest ringing of metal. Both a blessing and a curse, as when you do finally rouse, it’s in a state of confusion and grogginess, the fog of sleep still clouding your mind. The engines have gone quiet, signaling your exit from hyperspace.The overhead lights had been turned out as well, leaving the hold nearly pitch black.

Sitting up, bone meets metal as your head bounces off the low ceiling. Luckily sleep had made your reactions slow. Any harder and it might have left a bruise.

As your eyes adjust, you realize that you're in the child’s compartment. Heels hanging off the edge, the space is barely big enough for the both of you to fit comfortably. In fact, he’s nearly on top of you, though it’s not much different than how he normally sleeps. Despite never having been in the space before now, it was oddly comforting. The closed in feeling mimicked that of your crate back on Corellia, though still a thousand times more comfortable and the main reason your panic was still at bay. The primary concern is how you even got here in the first place, distinctly remembering falling asleep on the ground earlier. Maybe the kid had used those magic powers? No, you heard it always took a lot out of him, so there was no reason he would do such a thing when he was just as content sleeping on the floor. Sleepwalking perhaps? Though you had never done such a thing before. If you had, you’d already be dead, walking off a roof or wandering the streets completely defenseless.

With both of those options out of the way there was only one left; the Mandalorian. It made sense. He was strong enough to lift the both of you with ease, having proved that before, and he would always chastise you for playing with the child on the floor of the Crest, citing that it was too dirty, covered in dirt from his shoes and mystery stains. That didn’t mean he had to pick you up as well. He could have just as easily left you there and put the child in his bed alone. Not that you would complain too much. The blankets lining the bottom were softer than anything you’d ever had, and the surplus of stuffed creatures softened the corners and seams.

Snuggling back down and bringing the child closer, body curled around his, you began to drift back to sleep, determined to catch as much rest as possible before the kid woke up again. The Mandalorian was still a jerk, but at least he had some form of manners. __________________________

“And that’s why we don’t go running off on our own.” Your charge chittered, soaking you as he squirmed around. Leave it to him to go running off as soon as you take your eyes off him, only to take a tumble into a stream. Thankfully it was only a few inches deep, making it hard to drown in even if he tried.

Toweling him off as much as possible, you left the rest to the sun, which beat down with warmth and left you feeling soft and sluggish. The same rays currently warming your skin also made it easy to spot any approaching figures with your view, especially those clad in shiny beskar and moving with a purpose. If the child hadn’t been sitting on a high branch with you he would have already been halfway across the clearing to him. The Mandalorian’s gaze swept the area, taking in every detail, until the child’s excited cries drew him to you.

“Get down from there!” He shouted, pulling the struggling bounty with his own choice of words behind him.

You sigh and carefully leap the short distance to the ground, landing with ease, you note sourly. Not even a twinge of pain.

“You’re making a mistake!” The man dug his heels into the floor, fighting the bounty hunter as you simply scoffed. How many times had you heard the bounties say that by now? Always followed by the longing look thrown your way, as if you could somehow help them out of the situation, like you had any power over the man. They’re all the same in the end, no matter the species or gender, though this one was better looking than others.

A Pantoran. His blue skin marred with small lighter nicks and scars, outshone by the vibrant yellow lines running across from brow to cheekbone, only interrupted by equally bright eyes. The trademark purple hair was grown out, longer than most of the species preferred to keep it. Clearly once carefully combed into place, it was now messed and sticking in every direction. He stood not much taller than yourself, but certainly looked worse for wear. To be fair, you wouldn’t look much better if you dragged for miles in cuffs. Hell, you knew you didn’t look good being dragged in cuffs.

A small bit of ink peaked out from his collar, a striking red unlike the rest of his markings. There’s no time for a better look as he’s shoved, the symbol covered once again.

“We’re leaving.”

“You’re going to regret this!” He snarls. It’s vicious, so full of malice that it makes you pause a moment. Mando doesn’t miss it, his head tilting in a curious manner. “When the others find you they’re gonna kill you. Slow, and painfully. You’ll wish you had never even looked in my direction.”

His eyes dart towards you, already halfway up the ramp with the kids in your arms and towel slung over your shoulder. Leering, he takes in your figure with zero shame. “And while they do that, I’ll have my own fun with your little whore here. Not my usual type, I prefer the more delicate ones, but I bet she’s still a good fuck.” White teeth peek from behind purple lips as he grins, and it’s now you notice that they’ve been sharpened, each coming to a needle point. All the while you curl in on yourself, both self conscious and protective.

“All the plain looking ones are.” You cringe. Yeah he was a prick, but that was just uncalled for. It’s not your fault your showers were restricted to conserve water. It was actually surprising he didn’t have a sonic shower, the strictly need based man. The clothes were on your though, worn and with a number of mystery stains gained over months of constant wear and frayed in the best of places. The rips from the fight with Leon seemingly so long ago were sewn, though a bit sloppy.

“Who knows. Maybe I’ll even let you wa-'' He doesn’t finished, hauled completely off his feet and all but thrown into the carbonite chamber. The shouts are cut off as the machine starts, hissing as it finishes the job in seconds. It’s not surprising, giving his dislike for pushy and whining bounties. Always made the trip ten times worse, he claimed.

Said man turns, fixing her in place. Having just thrown a man into carbonite, it was doubtful he was in the best mood.

“Have you eaten yet.” It blindsides you, not what you expected, and leaving you scrambling to answer. It’s said without any hint of anger or annoyance, yet not the same monotone he normally speaks in. In fact, it’s almost convincing enough to make you believe he actually cares about the answer. Finally, your brain coming back online, you manage to get out an answer.

“Uh-No?” Maker, you want to slap yourself. Great job. A real great way to establish backbone.

He walks past, boots clicking across the grates at a nearly deafening level before stopping before the storage drawers. After a few awkward moments of waiting while he digs through the contents and listening to your own heart rate increase with each second, you nearly drop the package he throws your way. A pack of dehydrated meiloorun cubes. A favorite of yours, over the other selection provided. Definitely better than the dry ration bars he seemed to live on.

Eyeing his retreating form, you had to wonder; had he noticed your liking for them, or was it just a lucky guess?

“Eat now. The ride back may get bumpy and I don’t want you puking in here.”

Aaannd there’s the man you know.

Rolling your eyes, you raise the ramp as he starts up the ship. “I don’t want you puking in here.” You mimic, setting the child down in his nest of blankets and ripping into the package with unnecessary aggression.

“I heard that.” He calls down, drawing a blush. Stupid Mandalorians and their enhanced helmets.

Scarfing down the bittersweet fruit, you head towards the ladder, picking up the child as he makes grabby hands. Always the impatient one, he clings like a sloth as you climb the ladder. Mando doesn’t even acknowledge your arrival, focused on getting the ship in the air as he flips a number of switches and buttons. Busying yourself with the child, you search for something to say. It’s more awkward now than ever, which is saying something considering you were ready to throttle him just days before.

“Your leg seems better.”

Okay. Not what you were hoping he would say. Of course he would have noticed. Probably just waiting for the day he could drop you back off on Corellia or some other backwater planet and be done with the drain on his resources.

Laughing nervously, you rubbed the offending appendage. “Yeah. That salve you have really seems to do the trick. I’ll have to find out who you got it from before I'm gone.”

“Listen-”

“No Mandalorian.” You cut in. “A deal is a deal. You won’t get any fight from me to leave. I just ask that you take me anywhere but Corellia. If I go back there I’ll be as good as dead for what I did, and your efforts will have gone to waste.” It’s true it had been something you had feared as of late. Sure there were always fights going on, but you had attacked Leon and his crew directly, interfering with matters of the gang, and neither him nor Sozin took kindly to that.

He was silent, mulling your words over. It was just as likely he would tell you it wasn’t his problem as it was he would simply ignore your request, though it would only mean wasting less fuel for him with as far away from the planet as you were now. Yet the only answer you receive is a surprise earthquake, nearly throwing you from the seat as alarms and monitors started going off.

“Damn it!” He curses, speeding up and increasing his climb. Outside the window you catch a glimpse of metal, and not of the rusted wings of the Crest. You make your way over on shaky legs, trying not to be thrown as the ship continues its climb higher in the atmosphere. Just as you get to the point you can see the attacking ships a voice comes crackling through the communicator.

“Bounty hunter, this is your first and only warning. We demand the return of our faction leader, Malir Calrun, in exchange for your life. Fail to comply and we will retrieve him ourselves.” The voice continues spewing nonsense as you get a better look at the ships chasing you. They look like they were once cargo ships, though now heavily modified. It appeared the majority of their bulk had been stripped down and replaced with an array of defenses and weapons, most notably the turrets hanging from each side. And above each of those weapons was an insignia. One you had seen on too many ships and men to forget.

“Crismdawn?” It comes out as more of a shriek than you want it to, but considering the situation the reaction is well warranted. “You took a faction leader from the Crismdawn? Are you stupid, or do you just have a death wish!”

Everyone knew who they were, with multiple bases and factions spread across the galaxy, they were everywhere. Hell, they were the main group who ran the underground in your own district. Everyone knew not to mess with them unless you wanted to wind up in the hands of the empire or the bottom of the sea.

“Save it!” He growls, finally getting to the expanse of space beyond. The ships are still hot on your trail, practically on top of you as they open fire. Apparently they weren’t too concerned with blowing up their leader. If they kept this up it would only be a matter of time until you were nothing more than a floating heap of scrap metal.

Finally managed to get back into your seat and frantically strapping the belt around your waist and over the child the best you can, both of you hang on for dear life as he takes a sharp left, narrowly avoiding a stray shot from the gaining ships.

You were never going to be able to outrun them in this rust bucket. It may be smaller, but it was twice as old with not nearly as many upgrades. Without any nearby hyperjump routes it would take a miracle to get away; a miracle or...no. He had to be kidding. Either that, or he had a death wish after all. The only thing you could do was watch and pray that he was a better pilot than he thought he was as the ship banked towards an asteroid field.

The other two ships had no qualms following you right in, closer than ever as rocks the size of X-wings shot past. In fact, their aim only seemed to get better as they landed a shot on one of the engines, immediately bursting into flames and causing a new wave of panic as the Mandalorian worked to keep the rest together.

“Great! Now we’re all going to die because you just had to pick this bounty of them all. I hope the credits you’ll never get to use were worth it bantha brain!”

In retaliation the ship did a complete three hundred and sixty degree spin, rolling your stomach along with it. The familiar sting of bile rose as you clamped your hand over your mouth, though the prospect of making the Mandalorian deal with the mess was tempting. Maybe you could even aim in his direction and really show your displeasure. His trick worked though, as the muffled vibrations from a ship exploding in the vacuum of space reached you. A quick look confirmed you had one less tail, so that was something. But what were the odds you’d get that lucky again?

His hands clenched the controls in a death grip. You could practically hear the metal creaking, but it was hard to feel bad for him when he got himself into this. You just wished he hadn't involved you as well.

“There.” A cluster of asteroids were forming on the very edge, making a tight path. “He won’t be able to follow us through there. We’ll lose him.”

“Yeah, and half the ship while we’re at it!”

Pushing forward, the remaining engine roared loudly in protest as you entered. To his credit, the Mandalorian did his best to keep it steady, but when your path is constantly moving it's hard to do. Every time the hull brushed even the slightest against one of the many craggy peaks it sent the whole thing jerking in the opposite direction, only to have the same problem moments later.

Your head slammed against the poorly padded seat with each movement. Not only that, but the whole space was becoming more and more constricting as the rocks continued to shift, and in turn your only exit. Maker, you never thought you would die like this. You always thought it would be in some random alley when you got too old to look after yourself, maybe even a cell or camp if the empire got their hands on you; but not here, crushed alongside a Mandalorian and his kid.

Movement caught your eye, drawing your attention to the child who was still clutched tightly to your chest. Of all the times for that stupid pod of his to be elsewhere this really was the worst.

His own reactions had been tame compared to your panic at the situation, but what surprised you the most was when his hand rose, palm towards the window. It could have been your imagination, it had to be, because rocks didn’t normally decide to move on their own. Yet here was the evidence right in front of you, shifting away from each other and making room for your doomed vessel. With a final earsplitting screech that shaved at least few years off all parties involved, the Crest burst from the field.

You gasped, unaware of the breath you had been holding the entire time. Meanwhile the child had fallen asleep, more sound than any nap. It seemed the Mandalorian’s stories had some truth to them.

Looking out the viewport, there was already another planet in sight, and you were headed right towards its brightly colored surface.

“The ship’s too damaged. We’ll have to land.”

You wanted to argue, you really did, but the prospect of blowing up in space or being killed by hostile natives, you’d take your chance with the planet. Besides, your head was too shaken to form any argument, lest you puke the words out.

Entering this atmosphere was just as rough as leaving the last, though the lack of trees and planets here promised a much less cushy landing. Towers of warm toned stones rose and passed by at blinding speed, all while the ground grew closer with concerning speed.

‘This is definitely going to hurt.’

In the blink of an eye, a shadow falls over you as the world is simultaneously jarred in every direction. The rough strap of the belt catches your collarbone, sure to leave a mark as it drives every ounce of wind from your lungs. It had been years since you had experienced this feeling, having long outgrown the mistakes that would often result in your fall from roofs and walls. A stray cord, slippery pipe, or even just being too small to grip; you name it and it’s a reason you’ve had more than one bruise. Now here you were. Feeling like a newbie all over again.

As much of a shock as it was, the real pain came when your head slammed against solid metal, catching your right in the temple and sending black spots dancing across your vision. The floor of the crest was nearly covered in vomit right then and there as your meal made a return for it’s second act. No doubt about it; you would for sure have a concussion.

Eventually the spots fade and other senses return, leaving room for the previous anger and pain to worm their way in instead. The term blind rage was all that could describe it. Not even Crismdawn seemed so scary anymore. In fact it would be great if they could show up now so you could give them a piece of your mind on how exactly you felt about being shot at. For now, the genius who started it all would have to do.

Smoke choked the area, with various alarms and lights still going off, only cut by the sound of metal creaking in the near distance. It was hard to see, shadow covering every inch of the room. The ship must have landed in a lower elevated area, or maybe behind one of the many pillars glimpsed earlier.

His armor felt as frozen as the man himself, making a tempting offer to cool your aching head against, though you resisted the urge. Instead you lashed out with one hand, satisfied with the solid connection you made against the exposed part of his neck. It still hurt your hand, but you would take it.

“Of all the maker forsaken people in the galaxy you just had to pick the Crismdawn! I swear it’s like there’s nothing going on in that helmet of yours!” The ranting did nothing for the situation, but screw it if it didn’t make you feel a little better “If I had it my way then you..would..”

The weight from earlier suddenly made sense, as well as the impromptu headbutt. The Mandalorian was currently over top of you, his own body caging in and acting like a shield as your own did to the child, still passed out and in your grip. He was careful not to place much weight where the creature was but it seemed the same pleasantries didn’t extend to you. He was completely on your lap, legs locked under the seat and around yours with his arms spanning overhead and gripping the back of the seat. His head hung low, almost resting on your shoulder.

Neither of you moved. With his face so close to your own and the ringing finally going down, it’s only now you pick up on his own labored breathing, coming out distorted and muffled through the filters. A twinge of guilt hits as you realize he must have been hurting from the crash same as you, if not more so.

Calling out, you hope he hasn’t died and let you here to deal with everything.

No response.

“Mandalorian!” He gives the first sign of life as you shake his shoulder rather roughly, a low groan escaping.

“Are you okay?”

“What do you think?” The chair creaks as he pushes away, lifting himself with a grunt. Despite his biting answer, it’s clear that he’s hurting. Once standing on his own there’s a moment where he staggers, legs threatening to give way under the mountain of armor, and reflexively your own hand reaches out to catch him, only to quickly retreat back. The last thing he probably wants right now is someone touching him. He’s not even your biggest fan to begin with.

After another moment to steady himself, he starts off towards the ladder, yourself unbuckling the restraints quickly to follow. The reward is instant, pain shooting up your side and feet nearly slipping thanks to the tilted position you’ve landed in. Still you manage to stumble across the floor and follow him down and out, the ramp already partially pried open.

The sight beyond is, well, nothing. It seems the planet you had oh so skillfully landed on was nothing but sun and stone, with oddly deep red sand covering everything as far as your squinted vision could see. It was almost like Tatooine, or so you concurred from what you’d heard about the planet, and had seen on postcards in the tacky corner shops. Sand, sand, and more sand. How different could one desert planet be from another?

While you were busy taking in the glorious new sights, your baskar friend made a complete circle around his ship, to assess the damage you guessed. His limp doesn't escape notice, that much more obvious with the sandy terrain that displays his uneven gait. Nor does the way he holds his arm.

“It’s going to take a while to fix this.” His shoulders roll as he groans, taking painful inventory of his own injuries. “That’s not counting how long it will take with me like this, though we should have enough scraps to get it together.”

The way he says it makes it sound like torture, and while you have to admit getting off this planet and somewhere less sandy sounds like a much better option, it’s not that bad. The water storage still seems to be intact, and there’s enough rations stored away to hold you over for at least a month or two. While the brightness of the sun above and the gritty sand already invading every crevice of your body, things could have turned out a lot worse. Of course it was still no Naboo.

“I can help.” The thought leaves you before you realize you’ve said it out loud. Growing up on Corellia hadn’t given you much reason to worry about how helpful and kind you were to other people. In fact some may say you’re even a bit selfish. The Mandalorian had certainly been one to think so, his head turning your way.

“You know how to fix ships?”

The doubt in his voice gives off a feel of indignant tone, eyes squinting and shoulders square in response.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Didn’t know they taught thieves to do that.” He shrugged, grunting as his shoulder responded in turn much to your satisfaction.

“Do you want my help or not? You said it yourself, we need to get out of here before they come looking for us or we die from the heat.”

He contemplates for a moment, taking in the condition of the still smoking ship, then looking back at you. Then back to the ship and takes a pause. You want to strangle him. Was being forced to have you do something to help really that bad?

“Fine.” He finally caves, heading back towards the ramp. “Just make sure you don’t do anything to blow us up mid flight.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to the child still passed out in your arms. “Let's find your pod. Don’t want you getting sunburn.” ________________________________________

The next few days are filled with nothing but work. Long, exhausting, and backbreaking work. Many times it would drag from early morning, before the sun had come up, to late into the night when the stars and lamps were their only source of light. Long gone are the times of chasing the child around the ship and relaxing as you wait for the Mandalorian to return. That easy time is gone. Oddly, it doesn’t even bother you that much. To be honest you had begun to go a bit stir crazy, so used to going out and scraping by to live everyday that the lackadaisical lifestyle itself had put you on edge, always waiting for the other boot to come down. Now, moving about and doing things with your hands, was satisfying.

The only complaint was the sun. Growing up used to the cool and rainy weather, desert planets were always your least favorite. The heat had even grown so great you were forced to shed your jacket. The long sleeve underneath wasn’t much better, but the cool grey of all standard empire clothes was an improvement over the navy jumpsuit. The heat in normally trapped was well enough back when you were still sleeping outside but now made you question why anyone would wear such a wretched thing. Even the child was more lethargic in the face of the sun, spending the majority of his time in the cooler inside of the ship and playing with his many stuffed creatures.

The only one who seemed unbothered was the man himself, who stayed in full armor. Just looking at him, lifting all the heavy metal plates injured when you could hardly do it at full health, was nearly enough to give you heatstroke. It may be his ‘way’ and all, the helmet being understandable, but not even a bracer or chest plate? All that Mandalorian pride would get him nowhere if he ended up over exerting himself and keeling over. It’s the same reason you offered to take the topside repairs. No doubt if he tried to climb up with all that weight he’d only fall off. You didn’t voice this to him, saving his pride, claiming it was because she had better balance, able to move about the engines better.

Pride went two ways it seemed, pushing yourself more than you normally would. Of course it was the goal of getting off here as soon as possible, not that you wanted to do anything nice for the man. He had been a jerk from the start, and the memory of Nevarro was still fresh in your mind. Even now he was trying to show you up, working through any breaks as you watched him, munching on snacks and taking sparing sips from the water supply.

It took three days of work, but the Crest was nearly back in good enough condition to be considered travel worthy. A couple more welds on the sheet you were working on and everything would be good. The Mandalorian was inside making sure navigation and all the other more technical components were working, leaving you outside in the cooling air as the sun set. At least that’s where you thought he was.

He might have been able to sneak up on you if years of constant vigilance hadn’t left your ears constantly open, the hollow ring of his footsteps also hardly hidden.

He sits down a few feet away, watching as you work. The sound of the soldering gun is all that you can hear, along with the dull whistle of the wind as it passes over your ear mufflers. A pause in your work, stretching the muscles that ached from being gripped around the metal for so long, gives him the opening he was waiting for.

“About what you said earlier-” “Earlier?” Your head snaps over to him. “The only thing we’ve talked about are repairs. Are you saying there’s something wrong with my work?” You level the soldering gun at him, ready to defend your craft.

He holds his hands up in surrender.

“About you leaving.”

Oh, right. That.

You lower your gaze, going back to work with the mufflers now off.

This is it. You were getting the boot. Maybe he’d even decided to leave you here to die. An easy way to tie up any and all loose ends. Clearly he had a lot of people mad at him, and they might try and squeeze out any information from you they could if they found out about spending time with the bounty hunter. If there was anything you had learned it was that information of any and all kinds could be dangerous.

“You can stay here.” He interrupts your thoughts, confirming them at the same time.

“Or..” A pause as you perk up. Or could mean a number of things, both good and bad.

“If you’d like, I could drop you off on any planet you want.”

His offer takes you by surprise, suspicious as to the apparent kindness from nowhere.

“Any? Or, I could stay on this ship with you?” He nods.

It’s tempting. You could fit right in on the many busy levels of Coruscant, blending right in as if you’d been there all along. The troopers were hardly a concern, as with the number of people still living there even today, it would be like finding a representative that didn’t lie. Naboo would also be a good place. With all the deep pockets there you could go into an early retirement. Find a nice place on the hillside and live the rest of your life exploring. The mountains had no shortage of hot springs hidden all over them you could relax in.

A life of relaxation, not always looking over your shoulder for the next danger. Safe in a life of solitude.

Alone. Yes. As you had always been. No more dealing with the Mandalorian’s rude nature or having to walk around eggshells with his unreadable moods. No more babysitting duties or dealing with the child’s neediness. No more food at the ready or having a secure place to sleep every night. Traveling the galaxy and seeing planets and places, filled with lush forest and expansive landscapes you could only have dreamed of.

It could all be over. You’d be free once more.

Standing, you gather your welding tools. He mimics your actions.

The full light of the sun’s final rays hit your eyes full force as color burst into view, no longer monochrome from the crism tinted goggles. Your own steps are light, barely there, in comparison to his own as you pad towards the edge. You paused, looking back over your shoulder towards him.

“Lucky for you Mandalorian, my schedule is clear for the foreseeable future. I guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Mando.” He speaks up. “People I work with call me Mando.”

You realize that in the time you’ve traveled with him, you’ve never thought of him as anything other than ‘Mandalorian’ or ‘bounty hunter’. He’d never told you to call him by anything else, though you’d never given him a name either. With just the two of you it wasn’t hard to guess who he was talking to when he did, or he simply referred to you as ‘thief’.

‘Mando’. You rolled the name over in your mind. It was short, easy to remember and much less of a mouthful. You liked it.

“What about you?” He ventured, obviously feeling he could push his luck.

A grin flashes his way.

“Names are earned. You of all people should know that, Mando.” With that you jump back to the sand and head back inside, eager to leave.

#fanfiction #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader #din dijarin x reader #din x reader #the mandalorian #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #grogu #fanfic #sw #mando #the mandolorian #paz vizsla

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bimswritings · 2 years

Text

Strange Traditions

Pairing: Suu/Cut Lawrence

Warnings:None

Summary: Just Cut learning how to get more comfortable with civilian life and everything that comes along with it.

A part of the Halloween gift exchange (@starwarsfandomfests), and made for @crc-the11tailed! Hope you enjoy it! Suu and Cut give off such pure vibes, it's refreshing in comparison to other star wars couples.

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Ao3

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Cut had never really thought about having a life outside fighting when he had been a soldier. Following orders and completing the mission was all he had to worry about, and he was content with that. Then came Suu. The fierce pink Twi'lek that commanded order with an iron fist and soft heart. For the first time in his life he found himself questioning his orders. She made him think about life beyond the war; a life he could live in peace. Now here he was years later, with a family he thought he would never have and a life of relative peace. It was better than he could have ever hoped for, and he had learned so much in his time on the planet, but there were still things he was adjusting to.

Growing up on Kamino had left him with a lack of experience from anyone other than his brothers or their creators, and he often found the actions and traditions of his neighbors odd. Like now, as he walked through town after his recent crop delivery. There were still a few loads to bring in, but after that they would be set for the winter.

Everywhere there were people putting up decorations of skeletons and crops in varying colors of the fall, with the scent of spices heavy in the air. All the holidays he was aware of, which Suu had kindly marked on the calendar for him to help remember, weren’t for a while, so he had no idea what was going on. Maybe a festival known only on this planet? They were more common than he originally thought, and it wouldn’t be the first time he was taken by surprise by one. As soon as he got home he questioned her about it.

“It’s a festival to celebrate the dead and our ancestors. A way to remember them and celebrate the life that came before us.” She explains, a tone of humor in her voice. Of all the holidays, this was one of the most interesting to explain to an off-worlder.

“Isn’t that what we have the kalikori for?” He gestured to the mantle where it sat. It was well worn from its years seen, the addition of their own family the only piece that looked new. It was one of the first things she had explained about her culture when they first got together, and he found it odd that there was another dedication tradition for them.

“Yes, but this planet has other traditions, and as people who live here we participate to become closer with our neighbors. Besides, the kids love it.”

He nodded in understanding, already committed to understanding the celebration. If not to fit in better with his neighbors, but to grow closer with Jek and Shaeeah. His adopted children already considered him their father, but he always felt the need to prove he would do anything for them.

The first thing Suu had him do was help with the costumes, which he was told the children would wear to the celebration later that night. He was surprisingly good at it, taking over the duty of measuring and sewing from her, who watched with amusement as he put all his concentration into getting everything just right. Jek was dressed as Antu, a hero from one of the many Twi’lek folk tales that she would tell them before bed. A blunt stick took the place of a spear, while Suu weaved and painted a shield out of an old harvest husk. Shaeeah meanwhile was dressed more elegantly, reflecting the style choices of her favorite senator Amidala. A simple white robe flowed to the ground, with a bright red sash tied around her waist. The headdress was the hardest part, working around her leku with as much detail as either of them could sanely put into it. Still, she was happy, parading around with her head held high, though her mother had already warned her that it didn’t give her the excuse to argue with her.

They also put up decorations, both inside and outside the house. Paper cut skeletons and bones, sticks and leaves from the trees and bushes outside arranged into circles and scattered along window sills. The gourds they had carved sat on the porch, Suu’s sill with a knife almost mocking as it outshone the rest. He and Shaeeah had just finished making a new scarecrow to guard the door, which would join their old one in the field when the holiday was over. She jumped from his arms, drawn inside by the smell of cooking and spices. Cut followed, just as eager for his wife’s cooking and mouth already watering. They were greeted to the sight of her and Jek standing by the fire, with Suu making the treats and Jek putting the into small, brightly colored bags that were then placed into a bigger bag to be carried into town. There was an array of different types, some of which he recognized from his stroll through town earlier.

“What are these for?” He made his way over, scooping Jek up before resting his chin on her shoulder as he began to sway back and forth lightly. The heat of the fire chased away the chill from outside, and the combined scent of Suu’s perfume and the spices nearly lulled him into a trance.

“We hand them out to the children. You’ll see tonight.” She didn’t explain any further, batting away wandering hands as he tried to swipe one of the still warm treats. He pulled her in closer, trying to distract her with a kiss in vain; her defenses were simply too strong, and he was forced to admit defeat. Jek had better luck, using the distraction to grab a treat for himself. He bolted from the room with his sister following closely behind. No doubt she would be demanding he split it with her.

The adults watched them go, Suu letting out a sigh. “You know they’re going to ruin their dinner, right?”

“One little piece won’t hurt. Besides, like you said, it's a holiday.” Pressing one last kiss to her head, he headed back outside to finish the chores. He had been putting them off in lue of helping to prepare for tonight, but if he wanted to go he would have to hurry and finish. If he was lucky, he could get a good chunk done, and with winter fast approaching it was important to stay on track with the harvest schedule.

He finished around sundown, just in time. After dinner, which the kids ate without complaint much to his amusement and Suu’s annoyance, they all piled onto the speeder. He took his place behind Suu while Jek and Shaeeah got into the side car he had hooked up, treats sat on the floor in front of them. It was an attachment he had made himself so that they could take family trips into town, though the extra weight made them slow down a bit. They still got there just in time however, the celebration just starting as they found a place to park their own bike amongst the many others.

“C’mon!” Jek whined, pulling him along faster as his sister did the same with Suu. How they had so much energy even in the later hours of the day would always be a mystery to him.

The amount of people around was astounding, more than double what one would find there on an average market day. Children of all ages and species were running around, yelling and in costumes ranging from princess and princes to fighter pilots. There was one wheeling about in a droid costume, and he even saw a few storm troopers running around, making him do a double take much to Suu’s amusement.

They finally reached the center of town, where vendors were letting people use their stalls as places to set up at. Each one had their own decorations, some more simple while others clearly went all out. Though Cut had to admit that he wasn’t the biggest fan of the large number of fake spiders on everything. No matter how long he spent out here, he would never get used to the creepy crawlers.

The kids helped them get their own goodies out, sharing a spot with a Quarren couple who harvested wheat at their farm on the other side of the mountains, before running over to join the others, all gathered around the baker.

“Thank you all for coming! I would like to take this time to congratulate on another good harvest season, and open the celebration to our ancestors! May they join us and partake in our joy, until we are able to meet them once again one day.”

And with that the festivals began, children scattering in all directions with shouts of joy. Two, dressed as Jedi, immediately ran their way. “Trick or treat.” They practically yelled, much to his confusion. He looked over to Suu, who simply handed him two of the treat bags, then gestured to the still waiting children. Hesitantly, he dropped them into their open bags, prompting a chorus of thanks before they ran off to the next booth. The pattern continued, with one after another running up, shouting the same phrase, and then sprinting onto the next spot. It made sense why they were all gathered in town now. With how far everyone lived from one another it would take days to get to everyone. Not only that, but he was suddenly struck by a sense of community. Watching the kids run around happily, Suu letting her guard down for once; it made a weight he didn’t know was there lift from his chest. He wanted to feel like this forever. Carefree and happy. Jek and Shaeeah should be able to enjoy every holiday, without the fear of war.

They would make it through this fighting, and they would come out in one piece.

“You know,” he spoke, drawing Suu’s attention from where she had been watching the kids. “Next year we should wear our own costumes. Maybe match with Jek and Shaeeah.”

She looked taken aback for a moment, blue eyes searching his own in question, before slipping her hand into his, thumb lightly tracing over calloused skin.

“Yeah.” She agreed. A promise. “Next year.”

#star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #star wars #star wars the clone wars #swtcw #cut lawrence #Suu/cut #sw #halloween #halloween fanfiction #tcw #clone trooper #sw spooktacular

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bimswritings · 3 years

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Savage Oppress x Reader Pt.3

Thank you all for being so patient with me! Your support for this story has really warmed my heart and kept me going. While I have you here, I would like to ask what you guys would want to see for a longer series next; A Fox/temple medic, or a Rex/discovered Jedi (taking place during CW). I still plan on adding to the Savage series but want to do other things to keep from getting bored with it. This chapter is nearly twice as long as the previous two, so you could say I got a bit carried away. Anyways, hope you enjoy!~Bim

Pt.1 Pt.2

Ao3

Koffi

Warning: Canon typical violence, talk of trauma, spicy towards the end, Savage being soft

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It had now been months since you and Jay had been taken by your captors, though it was getting more and more difficult to consider them as such. Having captors implied you were being confined or mistreated, which was far from the truth. Free reign of the ship, with clearance codes that allowed you into all of the most restricted areas, just so you could find Savage if need be. As for being physically harmed, you couldn’t even claim that. Apart from Savage being clingy and constantly demanding attention, more so now than ever before, your every need was provided for. New clothes, food and water; Savage had even gotten new books and materials to keep you occupied while he was away, though he was practically attached to your hip at this point. Maul had even taken to calling you his little shadow. Mental well-being was a different story, doubtful that being around two sith constantly and having limited interaction outside their circle of each other and a few higher ranking Mandalorians did little for conversational variety. Your current clothes were no help either, the change from your normal wardrobe putting you at unease.

“We should be landing soon.” One of the modulated voices spoke from your left, his helmet looking in your direction but not at you yourself. Instead it was fixated on Maul, who stood to your other side, just close enough that his arm skimmed yours whenever the ship jostled, making it easy for him to keep a hand on your shoulder, upright and stable. If not for the cloak you currently wore, an alteration done to one of Savage’s own, you might have welcomed the warmth he radiated.

Despite growing up on a rather cold planet, the chill of the ship was something she didn’t enjoy, reminding you too much of the mines with the chill and sometimes claustrophobic feel. There were even occasional random noises from the walls and ceilings, mimicking the sound of potential cave-ins. Even if it wasn’t as cold, you still would have preferred your longer, more covering clothes. Easier to feel protected from the lingering stares and provided a sense of being shielded when on your own in a way. Savage knew of this preference, mentioning once how you wore just as many layers as a jedi, which was why you had been so surprised by the presentation of your current clothes. The open back and cut arms of the dark fabric left you feeling exposed, prompting you to don a cloak despite insistence you wouldn’t need it. Savage clearly had a hand in its making, just as with everything else, with his markings embossed into the fabric with a gold the same as his skin. Seeing it, you had only rolled your eyes, his odd forms of claiming you as his property still ridiculous to you. Still, it was exciting to be somewhere other than the ship.

“We’ll meet with the primary unit at the city center.” He nodded, speaking into his wrist comm as the shuttle jolted to a halt.

You had landed.

Taking a deep breath, the doors to the ship slid open, revealing the new planet beyond.

You were no stranger to destruction. Houses burned down from heaters and generators, storehouses robbed and destroyed by raiders and pirates; both were a common sight back on your planet. They did nothing to prepare you for what lay beyond. A city in ruins, still smoking, with buildings crumbling before your eyes. Any excitement you had held before to visit another planet was quickly replaced by dread at the sight. There was no time to breathe, as the soldiers in line pushed forward, forcing you out onto the ramp.

“This is your first time seeing the aftermath, no?” Maul questions, his stride matching your own in more of a leisurely stroll as his posture was a stark contrast from yours.

“No.” You mumble. “You invaded my planet as well, remember?”

His only response is a low chuckle, sending your hair and most likely every Mandalorian’s in the vicinity on end. Such a sound from a him only spells trouble.

The architecture of the city was stunning, even destroyed as it was. To have seen before ruin would have given such a sense of grandeur to even those who had seen the sights of Naboo, making guilt sting that much deeper. By no means had you brought the ruin to this place of beauty, yet you still accompanied those who did. Guilt by association was somehow worse in this situation.

Explosions still rock the city occasionally, new cracks and crumbles of the buildings appearing, followed by shouts and screams; all of which you try and fail to ignore. After the deathly silence of space it all seems so much louder, and your body flinches with every noise. None of the soldiers mention your reaction, though that’s not much different from how they normally treat you. Maul is the only one that reacts, pushing you forward when your feet begin to drag. Even though it’s doubtful that it was intended so, the weight of his hand brought a small amount of comfort. Savage’s constant presence and neediness had turned you into a touched starved fool without the contact, especially from others.

The sun continued to beat down on the planet, making you feel positively sweltering under it’s ray’s as the clothing you were given now made sense. The light fabric and openings were preferable in such a climate, and would have helped prevent the sweat currently rolling down your back and collecting between the shoulder blades. The cloak remained firmly clasped however, being the last form of protection you felt against the carnage around you. To take it off would leave you truly exposed, and was the last thing you needed as you approached the group gathered in what you assumed to be the city center.

Even from a distance he stood out, the armor he normally wore discarded in an effort to escape the combined heat of the planet and that which came along with fighting. Standing at least a head taller than all those around him, he watched as the group of civilians gathered before him were sorted into groups, just as they had been on your planet. The sight was enough to make your heart catch, but was nothing compared to the look in his eyes when he saw your own group approaching. Brows furrowed in both anger and concentration, the fire burning within only intensified. A look you had seen him wear before, but never directed at you. It wasn’t just you he was looking at, his gaze flickering over to his brother and back, bringing attention to your current position.

Between the ship and now, his arm had crept across your back, casually thrown across your shoulders and pushing you forward while keeping you on track. What one could consider a friendly gesture but Savage clearly disliked. So, under his gaze, you ducked from his brother’s grasp and jumped ahead of the group, making a beeline for him. As you got closer smaller details unseen from the previous distance came into focus. A number of new scratches and nicks married his horns, though the crimson tint they held was far more distracting, continuing down his neck to his shoulders and chest. The lightsaber at his side was sheathed, making you question if he had even used it in the first place. You may not know much about them, but you knew the weapon resulted in rather bloodless wounds, which were instantly cauterized by the super-heated blade.

Your name tumbles from his lips as he pulls you in closer, stepping away from Pre Vizsla and the others as the former gives Maul updates on the takeover. The way in which he holds you is almost identical to how Maul had, though with his greater height you were pressed more into his side. It was almost an instinct with how you shrunk into him, body forming against his with ease. All the while the hate which you held towards yourself only grew. Not only was he covered in sweat and blood, chest still heaving with exertion, but you had been at odds with him for a while now. Ever since he had ‘gifted’ you with your collar, he had only grown more possessive, yet your freedoms had grown as well. Contact with anyone outside his immediate circle had been completely cut off. He had even growled at a guard who he claimed ‘looked at you for too long’ while taking a walk around the ship. He made sure to come back to the room every night, or have you come to whatever room he was stuck in, which often resulted in you wrapped in one of his shirts, dozing against his side. None dared to say a word about it, though Maul had made the occasional jab at how dependent his brother was.

The increased time together allowed more free time during the day, claiming he trusted you to solve any problems you may run into. You had your suspicions it was only because of the last incident, and subsequent fight that had followed. The clinginess had begun to grate on your nerves, going almost stir crazy with how suffocating he could be at times. You had drawn the line when he wanted you to stay with him in a meeting rather than going to meet your brother, claiming he could wait. You had of course chosen your brother, causing a small rift when he tried to order you to stay, and leading to you ignoring him most of the time now. However, with such a change of the quiet and relatively uneventful ship to the war torn city you were currently in, your weak will had you turning to him and his unwavering confidence for guidance and protection.

He said nothing of your sudden closeness, willing to be submitted to his smothering when before you would have tried to wiggle away. The only indication that he thought anything of it was the way his chest puffed with pride, arm gripping tighter as Pre Vizsla led you further through the city.

“Blue squad has found a group of civilians who were hiding and have requested backup to help with the large number. A few seem rather defiant from what they say.” He explains as the groups walk, going deeper into the destroyed city.

It’s disturbingly easy to avert your eyes from the crumbled walls and motionless bodies, focusing instead on the armor of the woman in front of you and counting each scratch and dent, coming up with theories as to what exactly caused them. Yet for as well as you can close your eyes to the injustice surrounding you, it’s impossible to close your ears to its sounds, and the cry of not the man, but children, is what forces you to look.

It seems you had reached the other group mentioned by the Mandalorian leader, the supposed issues they were having with their captives on full display as a family fights to stay together. The father is being pulled away while his wife and son are pushed towards the other group. She struggles to keep him back, tears running down her own face as the boy fights free of her grip, screaming as the man is beaten into submission. It’s with a chill you recognize the man who had done the same to you on your planet, eliciting a strong sense of deja-vu from the scene. Your grip on Savage’s hand becomes tighter, though he simply stares impassively at the scene as the mother continues to struggle. She falters, only for a moment, but it is enough for him to slip away, running at a breakneck speed towards his death.

The jeers of the soldiers only grow louder as he stumbles to his father’s side, attempting in vain to pull the now unconscious man away.

“Honestly, kids these days.” The man sighed. “They need to learn a little respect.”

The whip crackles to life, his only pause as he basks in the cheers of the others, all still filled with adrenaline from the fight and still craving violence. Craving blood.

“If you love your father so much, then you can join him!” He raises the weapon to strike, the boy lifting his own arms in response even though they will do nothing to protect him. For his family and himself, it's over. Their people were defeated and were to be forced into the service of others. Yet they still find the need to make them suffer further. Maybe that’s why you did it. Or why you like to think you did, grasping onto the small shred of humanity left in your body as you step forward and, in three large leaps, knocked the offending weapon from his hand.

“Enough.” Your voice is strong, firm. Nothing like how you actually feel towards your actions, which is to say shocked. He must be experiencing the same as it takes a moment of pause before he’s wheeling around to face you. He rips his helmet off, face red from both heat and anger with steam practically blowing from his ears as he gets in your face.

“I should have known you would try to pull something like this! You and your savior complex ruin everything every chance you get!” He’s practically screaming, yet you refuse to back down. Your response is calm and collected, practically the opposite of him.

“You have won. There is no need for you to inflict further pain on these people to satisfy your own sadistic needs and feelings of incompetence. If praying on those who can do nothing against you truly makes you feel powerful, then you are far from the warrior you seem to think you are.”

Silence follows as the weight of your words dig in, with tension so thick that not even a viroblade could cut it. The eyes of everyone, the Mandalorians, the civilians, Maul and Savage, are all on you.

“That’s it!” He throws his helmet to the side walking a few paces before taking up a fighting stance. “We’re going to settle this here and now!”

“Roji! Enough!” Vizsla shouts at his man. “Now is not the time for-”

“No! She’s gotten away with her behavior for far too long. All because she’s some Sith’s little toy!” A sharp intake of breath from many, including yourself, follows his words. To say such a thing, knowing the temper of both men, was like asking to be killed in the most painful way possible. He doesn’t seem to care, only continuing to glare. “Time to end this.”

His words are a taunt, meant to rile you into fighting. They’re not needed however. Even if he hadn't prompted it, it would have led to this. For far too long he had been allowed free reign, hurting others as he pleased, including yourself. No longer would you live in fear, tiptoeing past him in the halls and avoiding eye contact when discussing battle plans. He was right, you thought as you took your own stance; it was time for this to end.

Savage stepped forward, intent on breaking things up as he cursed himself. Allowing you as much freedom as he had the past few days was a mistake. Thinking that his obvious claim on you would be enough was yet another, and now you had gotten yourself into a bigger mess. Before he could get any closer Maul stopped him, his brother’s red hand keeping him back as he looked towards his kin in confusion.

“She must prove herself, not only to the Mandalorians, but to prove she is strong enough to serve.” He must have sensed his inner turmoil, as his grip tightened. “Your feelings are irrelevant right now brother. She must prove she is worthy. I do not tolerate the weak.”

His tone was enough to give him pause, as he begrudgingly accepted his brother’s words, stepping back to watch what was about to happen. He knew it had been a long time coming, though his hopes that Maul would simply accept you through the unlikely bond that had begun to grow between you had remained persistent. All for naught it seemed, as Maul was a creature of habit, always testing and pushing those around him.

Meanwhile, a loose circle had formed around you and Roji, creating a wall of shouts and jeers as you began circling one another, waiting to see who would make the first move. An honor that went to him, as he grew tired of waiting and sprinted forward, closing the distance as he delivered the first strike of many.

He was by no means a small man, nor did he pull his punches as he rained down blow after blow. Blocking was all you could do, waiting for an opportunity to break away as you were pushed further back towards the edge of the makeshift ring. The shouts and jeers of the other filled your ears as you tried to drown them out and focus on the man in front of you. Every twitch, every hit, even the way his facial expression shifted gave you information.

“Little whore! Where do you think you’re going?” His elbow drove into your spine as you tried to jump through an opening in attacks, leaving you dazed as a cheer went up from the others. Stunned, the taste of blood stung your tongue,almost as choking as the cloak, now cutting off oxygen as you were pulled up by its fabric. Feet scrambling for purchase, you struggled to breath as he laughed. The scene was reminiscent of a Lothcat mother carrying a squirming kit, though there was no fond or familial feeling here.

“I’ll make you regret every moment you spent on our ship, and not rotting in the ground like the rest of your people.” He spoke in your ear, words emphasized as his grip tightened. Your own hands struggled around your neck, fingers turning numb as they fumbled and searched. As soon as the cool metal of the clasp registered under their touch you all but ripped it open, releasing its hold and spilling you on the ground. The skin of your throat was raw, painful as dry coughs accompanied gasping breaths. Black spots slowly faded away, retreating to peripherals as oxygen flooded your system. Still lightheaded, you forced yourself to stand. As soon as your feet found purchase, Roji was there again. Being corner wasn’t an option, as he would simply resume the beating once again, so the only option was to run. To keep out of his hands.

Around and around you went, staying just out of reach by the skin of your teeth, trying to come up with something, anything.

“Hold still!” Grunting as his foot nicked your shoulder, eyes burning with frustration, it finally clicked. All of these moves, from every combo to wild lash out, was just like how your brother fought. Almost eerily similar, in fact. It made sense. With such largely trained numbers, of course the fighting styles would be the same, most likely taught in groups or by a small number of people. In sheer panicked and adrenaline filled thinking, you had completely missed the similarities up until now.

You had sparred with Jay before, the sibling rivalry pushed by his need to prove that he was stronger now and your own stubbornness. So many sparring matches, so many hours spent in training rooms. All the while unconsciously becoming more and more accustomed to the Mandalorian fighting style. For once, you were grateful for his insistence on the brawls.

So, when another leg flew your way, instead of running to the side or back, you stepped forward, placing a foot over his to act as an anchor as you shoved him back. A dirty move, but it did the job. His arms windmilling as he tried to keep his balance, but to no avail.

Before he has a chance to recover, you’re on him. The armor covering his body would make any hits feel like nothing. There was only one way to truly hurt him.

The first hit connects with his nose, a sickening crack, followed by his own cry of pain. Hands immediately shoot up to cradle his wound, but are thrown away. Blow after blow rains down on him, just as he had done earlier. He weakly tries to struggle, but unburdened by the weight and heat of the cloak and veins full of adrenaline, there was no chance for him. Red is all you can see. Red on his armor, red of the fire burning the city, and red of blood, pouring from his face in increasing amounts with every blow.

Blond hair faded to brown, armor turning to fabric, causing a momentary stutter, shaking your head in an attempt to clear your thoughts. It wasn’t possible. You were here, not back on Genoti. This wasn’t the pit….

Or was it?

A hand grabs your shoulder, pulling you away from the man. There’s a moment where your hand flies out, still looking for a fight and seeking revenge on the one that pulled you away, only to stop short as Jay’s voice reaches you, piercing the fog and bringing you back to reality.

He speaks your name once again, your surroundings coming into focus once again. The crowd had gone silent, looking on with varying degrees of shock and anger. Long gone are the cheers for blood, as a number move forward with caution, picking up their injured comrade. A trail of blood follows, steadily streaming from a nearly unrecognizable face. A horrid mixture of the swelling fighting against broken bone and cartilage. Looking down, your blood runs cold, contrasting his own, which collects on each knuckle before falling to the ground; also stained with the same crisim color.

You feel like puking. Not because of the guilt, but because of the lack of. Despite everything, no matter how deep you dig, you can’t find a shred of regret for what you’ve done. Only horror and anger for yourself for devolving to such a reaction. There’s also anger for those around you. They were the ones who forced this, dragging you back into the cycle of violence and blood. They were the monsters…...right?

Footsteps approach, your head whipping around to see Savage approaching. He’s uncharacteristically cautious. Walking slowly with his hands raised, he acts as if he’s approaching a wild animal. As if you’ll attack.

Your eyes meet, stopping him in his tracks. It’s as if an invisible pressure is pushing in on all sides, oddly calming, as if it were a security blanket. His gaze is calculating, troubled. A look you’ve never seen on him before.

“Head back to the main base and wait.” Voice monotone, eyes skimming over your skin. You already know what he’s looking at. Not the blood, not the bruises and cuts, but your skin. Normally covered by a single or multiple layers of cloth now on full display for him and everyone else.

You don’t move, feet frozen in place. Hell, you don’t even know if you can move.

“I’ll take her.” Jay’s hand grasps yours tightly and, with a gentle pull, begins leading you away. The crowd parts like grass, leaving ample room to pass. Their gaze just as heated as Savage’s, digging into every crevice, over every scar. The only one who’s not in some state of shock is Maul, who only gives a smile, more of a smirk really, as you leave. Once around the corner of the far street, activity picks back up again. The shouts of Vizsla fade as quickly as they swell as Jay persists. His pace never slows, silent the entire way as he picks up speed. His grip tightens, almost bruising, though you say nothing. Too scared of what he might say. No longer was he the same little Jay who had left your planet. In just a few short months he had grown. Skinny limbs replaced with lean muscle. His face was sharper, with eyes to match. There was an air of confidence which he carried with him as he poked around the camp, scrounging a medkit.

There was a plethora of tents to choose from, all full of soldiers in various states of injury and consciousness. Their groans and cries were as varied as they were, but Jay still managed to find a place in the back.

“Alright so if you just-hey!” He tried to get up, only for you to punch him back down onto the cot again.

“Take off your armor.” Opening the kit, an array of bandages and antibiotics greeted you.

“What?” He almost laughed. “I’m not the one who got into a fist fight. You should let me just-”

“Dammit Jay!” You spun on him, slamming your hands on the frame. “Just..just let me do this for you. Please.”

He hesitates, but only for a moment. Then, slowly, he begins to peel the upper portion of his armor off. Piece by piece, he carefully lays it on the cot beside him until his torso is bare. He wasn’t really injured at all. A few cuts and scrapes, some bruising along his arms, but other than that he was fine. You had to admit, the Mandalorian’s armor was impressive. Methodically you cleaned the wounds that were there, carefully bandaging each wound and applying bacta. Meanwhile he tries to dampen your worries, almost complaining about how they didn’t let him do anything but run ammo and help evacuate the wounded.

“My feet feel like I’ve run a thousand miles today.” He groans, pulling a smile as you chuckle.

“Sounds like it.”

“Enough about me.” He groans, pushing himself up. He stumbles a bit, revealing some form of truth to his complaints. “Time to get you taken care of, and I don’t want to hear any protest.”

Rolling your eyes and allowing him to push you down, he took up the role of doctor and you the patient. Until now, you hadn’t even realized the extent of your wounds. Bruises were already forming along your arm. The skin in your back was torn up from landing on the sharp stones of the ground, though it was of little significance. Whatever marks were left would be lost amongst the sea of those already there. Gently, he began wiping the blood from your knuckles, shooting an apologetic look after every pained hiss before moving on to wrapping them.

“You know, this seems awfully familiar.” Jokingly, he taps at the bandages.

“Yes, but I would like to think I’ve gotten a bit better at fighting since then.”

“I don’t know.” He grins. “I think you used to be much better at getting beat up.”

A small chuckle escapes. Then another. And another. Within seconds your both doubled over, leaning on each other for support and gasping for breath. It had been, what, months? Years? It was hard to remember the last time you laughed this hard, felt this carefree.

“I missed this.” You looked over at Jay.

“Missed what?”

“This.” He gestured between you. “Us. Being together and not having to worry about anything.”

“We could live a peaceful life.” It escapes you before you realize it. No more than an absent thought, spoken aloud.

“What do you mean?”

The once joyous mood turns sour, voice now filled with venom as you spoke. “Those Mandalorians, those Sith, invaded our planet. They kidnapped us, forced you to learn to fight.” You spat. “If they had just left us alone we could be back home right now and-”

“-And what?” His jumps up, only to spin and face you. “Be worked to the bone just trying to survive? Freezing as the temperature drops and fuel cost goes up? You know I would have to start working in the mines soon!” He takes your hands in his own, almost in a pleading way.

“Living here may not be perfect, maybe not even good, but it’s still better than what could have been. We don’t go hungry, we have beds to sleep in, and our lives have some form of value. But most of all, we have each other.” His voice cracks at the end, nearly making your heart do the same. “Isn’t that enough?”

Stunned, you can only stare back. He wasn’t wrong, and that’s what annoyed you most. Living back home was almost as rough as the terrain. The work would have killed you before long, if not the planet itself. Just as it had your parents, and their parents before them. Here, for the first time, you slept without shivering. Food and water were a basic provision, not a luxury, and while there were many things that could kill you, they were the same things that protected you.

“Well,” you finally broke the silence. “I don’t think our work is quite as bad as the mines. Close, but not quite.”

“Alright Miss secretary. How about you try Mandalorian combat training while I run papers and flirt with a warlord.”

You gasp, shoving his shoulder, careful to avoid his injuries.

“I’ll have you know that warlord is a sith, and he happens to have quite the temper. Plus, have you seen those horns? I can say from experience they’re quite sharp.”

“If you say so.” He laughs, trying to duck away as you take another slap at him. Before you can try again, a familiar face approaches.

“Kora.”

Jay nods in respect to the medic, who returns the gesture before turning towards you.

“Savage demands your presence.” Stomach dropping at her words, you turn towards Jay, who simply nods his head. You both want to stay, to bask in the familial warmth that only you can provide for one another. Every fiber of your being wants to argue, but he knows just as well as you do that there’s not really an option. From the way she stands, shifting from foot to foot, it’s easy to tell she’s nervous. It was phrased as a demand, not a question. It would be better for all parties if you went without fuss.

“I’ll see you soon.” Giving Jay one last hug, Kora turns on heel, making haste as she leads you to Savage’s tent. It’s set up the same as every time. A fire in the center, with a place to sleep off to one side. The only difference is the tent itself, which is made of a lighter material, providing shade without trapping heat.

Kora leaves you at the entrance, eager to get away and back to normal duties. Taking a moment to steel your nerves, you enter.

As soon as you see him, pacing back and forth at the end of a bedroll, every nerve is on edge. He had been away, helping finish the takeover, ever since the end of the fight. His reaction then had been worrying enough, and now you were alone with him. Yet he says nothing. His eyes barely skim over you before he’s heading out, leaving you to follow. Just like always. And like the good pet you were, you followed.

His pace is quick, as if he’s in a hurry, throwing a look back over his shoulder every once in a while to make sure you were still following. The silence allows you to take in the beauty of your surroundings, the sights and sounds of the planet as the sun sets. If not for your current situation, it might be nice. But life had a way of making things less than ideal.

After a few minutes of walking another sound reaches your ears, breaking through the rustling of leaves and chirps of creatures flying overhead. The sound of running water.

Rounding a small bend, you almost run into his back as he stops. It’s almost shockingly private, the spot he’s chosen, with the bank rising high on either side, and the trees curling overhead, acting as almost a roof and allowing only a few dapples of light through. It’s atmospheric, almost tranquil, and leaves you wondering what you’re doing here, far enough away that no one will wander upon you by accident but close enough to know if something happens back at camp.

“Uh, Savage?” You turn to ask him what you’re doing here, only to have your heart leap in your chest.

His armor and robe are tossed over a low hanging branch, leaving him nearly nude save for his shorts. A blush finds its way to your face, though there’s no reason. He had been shirtless around you plenty of times before. Either when he was sparring with Maul, and insisted that you were there to watch, or simply on the nights he grew too heated, craving contact with your own body as close as possible.

Looking back, it was clear he wanted you to do the same. There was only a moment of hesitation on your end. After all, this was different than all those other times spent held close at night, or simply pulled into his lap whenever he felt like it. Here you were, outside the privacy of the ship and vulnerable to the eyes of anyone. Still, you did as instructed, stripping down to your bindings and underclothes, as well as the ever present collar. Once finished, you neatly folded them, taking great care when laying them next to his, if only to stall a few moments more. He was already out in the middle of the river, eyes fixed and watching your every move.

The chill of the air was nothing compared to that of the water, raising goosebumps along every inch of skin and setting your teeth chattering away. For such a hot planet, you would have expected the water to be much warmer.

When you reach him, the water is already up to your chest, while it only reaches mid-waist on him, cutting off just where his hips begin to dip into a deep V. Breaking through your thoughts as a cloth is placed in hand, you look questioningly up at the tall Zabarak. What on earth did he expect you to-

Oh...OH…

He was still covered in filth from fighting, caked from horn to toe in a number of stains and smears. Savage is not a patient man however, grabbing your hand in his, wetting the cloth before he begins scrubbing.

“Hey, hey! I can do it! Just let go!” You slap at him, earning only a grunt in response, but he releases you all the same. With him still staring down expectantly, you take a deep breath before getting to work.

Silently you scrub at his skin, clearing away the blood and dirt that persist in clinging to him. Inch by inch, golden skin and black markings slowly emerge from the mess as you make your way further up his body. All the way to the point where you have to stand on your toes while he crouches, cleaning his horns from the blood that stubbornly clings to and stains them. As awkward as the situation was, it was hard not to admire the man before you. Built like a ranicore, muscle strong as beskar twitched under your touch. His skin was almost burning in comparison to the water, though with your own racing pulse the temperature felt almost pleasant now. That rate increased the lower you went, finally stopping at his waist. Be it your dignity or anger at being dragged here, you refused. The running water would take care of it, or he could do it himself. He could have done it all himself.

With that, you assumed yourself done, ignoring the smooth stones shifting as you turned, intending to walk away and back to the camp. Wet and shivering. Perfect.

“Stop.” Savage growled, grabbing your wrist. It was the first word he had spoken the entire time, though it was more of a growl. “You’re filthy.”

“I can take care of myself!” Struggling to pull free, your efforts were of no use. It was like fighting against a wall, and gave much of the same results, only becoming more soaked as the water was disturbed. His grabbed you by the shoulders forcing you to still. Taking a breath, he spoke more gently.

“I know you can, I know. Just,” he sighed, suddenly finding great interest in the water. If you hadn’t known any better, you would say he was embarrassed, though the little light provided through the branches above made it hard to see. “Allow me to take care of you.”

His eye flick back up to your own, engaging in a staring contest. You were stubborn, determined not to give in, but it was Savage after all. Be it from his Sith powers probing around your mind, or just the pure reliance you had on him thus far, you fell victim to him once again, allowing his soft gaze to break you. Tugging you closer, he wets the cloth in the water once again, cleaning the blood and dirt from himself previously as best he could from it before beginning.

It's almost comical how careful he is. Savage takes great care in being gentle, lightly running the cloth over your skin and making sure to apply only the slightest pressure around the newly bandaged wounds. Relaxing is one word you could use to describe it. His touch just as steady as himself, just as he was every night, strong fingers tracing patterns and holding tight.

Once he’s satisfied that you’re clean enough you expect him to let him go, only to be pulled even further, legs swept from underneath as he dips your head back into the water. After the initial panic you give no further reaction, skull easily putting in his palm as he alone keeps you floating. There’s nothing to do but relax, closing your eyes and allowing the muffled world under the surface to encompass you. Savage’s hand card through your hair as the current stirs. It’s almost painful, though not because he was being ruff. The action reminded you too much of your mother. When you were younger you would share baths, not wanting to waste any water nor fuel to heat it. She would always wash your hair, getting any and all knots out before drying it. Catching a cold was easy, especially in the winter months. These had been times you relished. Just like nearly everyone else she worked in the mines. Long hours meant she was gone a lot and when you did see her she was dead tired. Moments alone had been special, cherished.

You wanted to stay here, endlessly floating in the inky dark of the water. There’s no distractions to be seen. No fighting or clanking of machines, Mandalorians or war lords. All too soon you’re pulled back to reality, forced to face your captor and protector once again.

He gives you another once over, turning your body and making sure there were no spots he missed, making you feel like a child once again. Standards met, he begins back towards the shore with his hand resting on your lower back, pushing you along against the current. As much as you wanted to be out of the water and back at the camp it was still unappealing to imagine doing so in wet clothes. They were tight and breathable, offering no protection against the light breeze. Savage hadn’t brought anything to dry off with and you weren’t expecting the adventure so it was the only option you could see.

To your surprise, when you went to reach up and pull the clothes from their branch, Savage grabbed them instead, to which they joined his own. He offers no explanation, as per usual, and only pushes you further upstream. You can’t help but roll your eyes, going along with it as he uses one hand to push the occasional branch out of the way with the other perched on your shoulder. The stony sand underfoot turns to rich soil, much warmer and inviting as the trees become more dense.

“Where are we going?’’ Savage says nothing, instead choosing to answer your question in another way. Stepping through one last wall of leaves, light burst forth from the scene in front of you.

A field, around the length of two B-wings and half the width, created an open air space compared to the claustrophobic woods around it, allowing the moon above full access to shine down. It’s light illuminated the sea of white flowers below and made the sight nearly blinding. You could have stood there all night, staring in awe, but Savage had other plans.

“Come.”

Leading you to the center, trying to avoid stepping on any of the flora, he spread his robe across the ground with a shake. Pulled down with him, you got comfortable, ignoring the occasional stain of blood in favor of taking in the sight before you. Both silent, all that could be heard was the rustling of leaves all around, with the occasional skittering of the planet’s wildlife.

“How did you know this was here?” You finally ask. It was too perfect to have been something to just stumble upon and he had clearly had a destination in mind when you were walking. The question was why he had found such a place. Savage wasn’t the type to stop and smell the roses after all, and to remember its location even after finding it was an odd move for him.

“I saw it from above. When we were flying in earlier.” He tilts his head, gaze traveling over the buds. “I was hoping it would still be around; to show you, I mean. I thought you would enjoy it.” The last part was nearly whispered, so quiet you would have missed it if he were any further away.

“Do you?”

It makes you want to laugh. His tone is like that of a child seeking a parents praise after presenting them with an arts and crafts project. There’s a stubborn part of you that wants to say nothing, another that wants to expose that vulnerability in an act of revenge for all his recent actions. Still, you can’t find it in you to do so. The tone he uses is rare, used only in the most rare and intimate moments of your room, with his face buried in your stomach as you talk about the most mundane of things. It was always an odd request of his, to hear you talk. He claimed it helped soothe him. Less annoying and angry then the others he was constantly surrounded with.

“My planet was rough and barren.” You admit, fingers reaching over to skim the leaves of each flower. “We didn’t have anything like this. Just rocks and dirt.”

His stares, clearly looking for more. Laughing, you give him a more defined answer.

“Yes. I like it. It’s...amazing.”

He sighs, content, and leans further back onto his elbows. Meanwhile your wandering hands begin picking the flowers, weaving the stem together into a chain form. All is silent once again, and you think he’s done. In some weird way it feels almost like a date. A messed up, oddly executed date. It’s the thought that counts though, and it’s not like there’s much for you to compare it to. No one back home had been clamoring to date you nor would you have had the time.

“Did you get these on your planet as well?” Goosebumps follow his fingers as they trace along your back, following the line of every scar and scrape. The initial contact makes you jump, jerking away from the touch, yet he’s persistent, warmth returning once again as he jumps from jagged line to line like some abstract connect the dots.

“You mentioned before you worked in the mines. We didn’t have those on Dathomir but I know they’re prone to cave-ins and explosions.”

Weaving fingers pause, mulling over your response. You had never told anyone about them, preferring to cover them and try to forget they were even there. The way you had earned each also had their own stories, some worse than others but all stemming from the same place. Savage had shared his stories before, telling you in sleepy hazes and hoping it would get you to open up more in the beginning. He had seen them as well, and you knew he would question it until he received an answer.

“Not all are from the mines. Some yes but,” swallowing thickly, it feels as if the words are stuck in your throat, both burning to come out after so long of being buried and clawing to remain hidden. You return to braiding the stems, trying to distract yourself as you explain further. All the while Savage listens.

“When my parents first died I had just started working in the mines. As some of the more senior workers they had been in the lower sections that day when the cave-in happened. Since I was new, my income was less than the others and getting by was hard, especially with the winter month coming up.” A bitter smile creeps across your face, the memory just as fresh as the day it happened. “I heard a few of the guys talking about a new underground ring. I could get credits for fighting even if I lost. Getting in was easy enough. Not a lot of people want to voluntarily get beat up. They had us fight with everything from viroblades to just our fist.” You laughed, humorless. “Those guys don’t pull their punches.”

Savage says nothing, only making you more nervous but with no more stems to twist. He must see you as some sort of violent monster, ironically. Up until now you were nothing but a wide eyed and helpless civilian, reliant on others for information and permission.This was a whole new side. Darker and more cynical. A part of your life and yourself you would rather forget.

All at once you're lifted and pulled closer, now sitting in Savage’s lap and making your temperature rise from embarrassment rather than anxiety. His large legs and wide hips easily encasing you between them. It was ridiculous really, having been in similar positions before. Holding you in his lap was one of his favorite ways of not-so-subtly claiming you, especially during long meetings. This felt different somehow; closer, more intimate.

His hands grab yours, bringing them to his face and allowing his lips to brush against the bandaged knuckles as he speaks.

“There’s no need for you to fight anymore.”

Then, almost hesitantly, he places feather light kisses on each knuckle. From there he works his way across the skin, slowly working his way up your arm to your shoulder. His actions grew rougher in tandem with your temperature, tongue occasionally sneaking out to taste the delicate skin after each small nip. His nose brushes lightly over your collar, pushing it aside and pausing for only a moment before lightly sinking his teeth into the skin located at the juncture between your shoulder and neck. Not enough to draw blood, but to create a darker mark matching those that trailed your arm. You were reminded of how prominent his canines were, the elongated teeth trailing over the skin in a way that elicited a squeak, much to your embarrassment.

Once he was satisfied there he moved further, reaching your face which he gave a similar treatment. The angle at which your head is bent to allow him to reach from behind is almost painful, but you’re too distracted to care. A kiss was placed on your forehead, then each cheek, before hovering over your lips which were slightly parted as light pants escaped.

He goes no further, molten eyes nearly scalding and feral. They’re almost begging as he hardly restrains himself, waiting. It’s with a jolt you realize that he’s waiting for you. This large zabrak, this sith, is placing the next move in your hands. Whatever you decide is how everything after proceeds. Maybe it’s that power you hold over such a man, or maybe he’s somehow influencing you throughout the force, but you feel nearly dizzy.

You know you shouldn’t. You were still a slave, as glorified as it was. He destroyed your home just like he had with countless other innocent people today, leaving you to wash their blood from his body just minutes before. And yet you can feel the pull he has over you, drawing you in like a dog on a leash.

The truth is, you’re tired of fighting. Of being strong and taking everything in stride. The past few months of your life had been some of the best and carefree, the temptation to give in to the him hanging like a cloud.

And so you do, cutting the last line drawn as your lips connected with his.

They’re rough, almost chapped, but still undeniably warm and inviting as they mold against your own. He easily flips you around to face him, swallowing your yelp of surprise as he deepens the kiss, tilting his head and you follow his lead. The canines from earlier make a re-appearance, biting at your lips and pulling a moan out before you could stop it, much to your embarrassment. Savage’s reaction is quite the opposite. It’s as if a switch is flipped, something triggering in him as he surges forward with a growl that vibrates your body, effectively pinning you between the ground and his chest. The sensations of the cool ground and prickly grass contrasting that of his warm skin added a whole new layer to the experience.

His actions become sloppy, desperate almost, barely letting you breath as his grip tightens. Undoubtedly there will be bruises of a different type tomorrow. The reprieve only comes when he moves back down to your neck once again. Oxygen floods your system once again, chasing away the edging darkness in your eyes. The relief is only short lived, pain blossoming through your system as teeth sink into the same spot as early. This time it’s much deeper, not in the same pleasurable way as before but now more searing. It’s as if he’s trying to reach bone, and he might have, almost in a way that will scar.

He remains there for a moment, ignoring your small whimpers and cries of pain, before deciding he was done. His tongue darts out, lapping at the blood escaping the wound and soothing it’s sting until the flow begins to slow. With a last kiss to the area he brings his face back up to yours, gaze holding yours in a deadly lock. His mouth is smeared with your blood, white teeth stained crism as he practically snarls.

“You. Are. Mine.” His breath is hot, fanning across your face. You know you’ve truly fallen for his words inspire not fear, but a tingling warmth.

“Say it.”

“I..” His grip on your wrist tightens, not even loosening as you winch. Shakily you managed to speak.

“I am yours.”

With that his lips are on yours once again, sealing the deal. You should feel more concerned. Out here with none other than the moon and stars as witness, you’re completely at his mercy, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#star wars x reader #fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #x reader #savage opress x reader #yandere savage #yandere savage opress #yandere star wars #darth maul #tcw #savage x reader #yandere x reader #tcw x reader #yandere #swtcw #star wars the clone wars

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bimswritings · 3 years

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Hi I just wanted to say I am totally in awe of your Savage fic, I also love the giving of the horn idea.

Thank you so much! If enough people wanted it, I would love to do a short fic or headcanons about my own thoughts on what Zabrak courting might be like, especially with Maul and Savage, as I've extensively explored the topic in preparation for this fic. I love star wars whole prospect of world building with individual cultures and going even further than they do in the show.

#star wars fanfiction #star wars #star wars x reader #x reader #savage opress x reader #fanfiction #darth maul #darth maul fanfic #asks #zabrak

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bimswritings · 3 years

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Hi hey hello!

Just stopping by to let you know that your Savage x Reader is just SO REAL. Like yeah he has a secret soft side but the sith side still EXISTS. I love how you’ve depicted him. This is the Savage that shall live in my mind rent-free. I shall patiently await part 3~

You’re doing great💋💋💋

I put a lot of thought into his character when writing the series, and I love it when people write comments or send messages also noting the more in depth analysis of his character I give. He's one of my favorites in the show and I feel that he was so complex and interesting; it was a shame when they killed him off. Part three is in the works right now, but knowing people are looking forward to it gives me more motivation so thank you!

#star wars fanfiction #star wars #savage opress x reader #star wars the clone wars #yandere savage #yandere savage opress #savage opress #fanfiction #star wars x reader #quality characters #hejustwantedtobeloved #asks

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bimswritings · 3 years

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idk if you plan on writing more of your Savage fic but I just want to say it is one of my favourites on here and I always come back to reread 😌💗

I actually have the third part outline almost finished, so it should be out by the end of the month if school doesn't keep me too busy.

#star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars #yandere savage #yandere savage opress #savage opress x reader #savage opress #asks #fanfiction #x reader

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bimswritings · 3 years

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Armorer x Reder Pt. 2/2

Pt.1

Kofi

Ao3

Warnings: Typical Canon Type Violence

A/N: Part two for my love! Now that I've finished this, you can expect part three of the Savage fic, with the outline already nearly finished! Hope you enjoy, and until next time!~Bim

________________________________________

“What is the meaning of this?”

She had been expecting Paz to have come to her earlier, seeking answers for what had just transpired . It could be considered nothing short of a blessing from her ancestors that she had been allowed the time she was, for if he had arrived not five minutes earlier she surely would have not been able to answer him. Even now she found it hard to find her voice, swallowing thickly as she tried to dispel the invisible grip that held her. It was as if the dust from the rubble had infiltrated the filter of her helmet, invading her senses and clogging every sense with a layer of dust.

“The empire sent TIE bombers.” The vecoder of her helmet masked the cracking of her voice from the large warrior in front of her, lest she appear anything but unyielding even in such a moment. It did nothing to dampen the way it reverberated within however, and the echo fact was like a hit to the chest plate all over again.

“Were there any other survivors.”

A light shake of her head gave him his answer. Even if they were strangers to her, the carnage she had witnessed would have been a shock to anyone.

None had been spared from the Empire’s wrath. Not a single structure nor person was left standing, and at places there were little more than scorch marks burned into the ground, the only testament of what was once there. The burns matched those marring the flesh of the scattered bodies, which there was no shortage of. Most were too burned and damaged to tell age or gender and she had no doubts that there were more victims, either buried or bodies completely destroyed in the initial blast and still burning flames.

“How did they make it?” He questioned further, and unsurprisingly.

“Their house was located further outside the village. It received the least of the blast, though there is still no home to return to.”

Yet again she was thankful for your reclusive behavior. It was only thanks to your distance, and the armor she found you buried in, did you survive, though you weren't without injury.

As soon as she received your transmission she had turned back mid flight, making it there in record time. Having never used the transmitter before, the fact that you did so now expelled any worry she might have had over your previous encounter.

When she arrived to find what had happened, she had immediately started digging. Using every tool and ounce of strength at her disposal to move the rubble, looking for at least a body to confirm her fears.

At long last she had found you, body bloodied and arm twisted at an unnatural angle. It was a shock to her system, heart nearly stopping as she took in your still form, thinking you were surely dead. Gloved hands ghosted over your exposed skin and still attached armor, which itself was badly damaged. As well made as it was by your own hand and her careful guidance it still had trouble holding up to the immense weight and damage it took. The metal surface was marred with countless scratches and dents, even completely caved in at places. There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that you were already gone. There was no telling how long you had been under the rubble before she had arrived, and even if she had gotten there minutes after, your wounds were so numerous it would have been close.

Raw pain ripped through her as emotion broke through her carefully crafted dam, spilling out all at once over it’s months of accumulating, effectively taking grip over her entire being. She did not cry however. The ability to do such had been lost to her years before and would never come back. Instead, she simply held your body close as she knelt in the dirt, mourning what she had never had the chance of claiming. She had been so close. Her helmet showed that your heat signature had not even grown cold.

Taking her glove off, she reached for your own hand. Even if it was just once, she wanted to feel your skin against hers, without the barrier of metal or leather you both consistently wore. Fingers lacing your own, it once again brought a wave of sorrow crashing over her.

Your hands, strong and calloused from years of work, felt better pure Naboo silk to her own. They remained loose and unmoving, even as her own knuckles turned pale at the strength with which she grasped them. A silent plea to her ancestors, the maker; anyone who would answer the questions she herself didn’t know. Never having been one to believe that those unseen could have much of an influence on the living, she didn’t expect an answer. Only someone to shift the unbearable grief to.

Yet, as she lay mottionless over your corps, she received one. If her own hand hadn’t been so tightly clenched she may have missed it, and in her stay she thought she was imagining it. But then it happened. Again. Then again.

Your pulse, weak and uneven, but there.

Throwing herself back, she quickly changed the viewing mode on her helmet as she tried in vain to keep her hopes from rising. She knew very well it could just be her own that she was feeling and until there was concrete proof then-

There.

In the corner of her visor read your heart rate weak and uneven, just as she had felt before, but there.

She wasted no time pulling you from the rubble and nothing short of sprinting back to her ship, keeping in mind there were undoubtedly unseen and internal injuries as she did her best not to jostle around. She could only thank whatever force there was out there that she had taken the one ship of the coven that had a med chamber in it. Though it was well worn and outdated at best in comparison to the newer ones, it would serve her purpose until she could do something better.

The machine’s light humming reached through the air as it began working on your more severe wounds, the steady drone of the machinery a stark contrast to her own shaky hands as she piloted the ship off the cursed planet, making sure to keep an eye out for any lingering ships of the empire. It would only make your situation worse if you were to be caught in the middle of a firefight as your wounds were tended, though she did not even know if she would be able to gain enough control of herself to fly away from such an endeavor unharmed.

Once certain that there was no one following and they were out of range of the planet, she set the craft to autopilot and was back by your side immediately. The droid had just finished removing the armor from your body and tending to the majority of life-threatening wounds, moving on to what it could finish with the limited supplies it had. She had to resist grabbing your hand, instead putting the energy into pulling the medical log. Reading over it, her heart sized at the vast number and varying severity of each listing as she read further and further on.

Oblique-displaced fracture-R/Humorous, Transverse Fracture-R/Tibia, Hairline fractures of Ribs-R/arm/leg, Bruising of Kidney/Lungs/Liver, Puncture of R/Lung-Bone Frag. Removed-Origin-twelfth intercostal rib, Sever Grade four concussion, Multiple lacerations

She had no idea what had been fixed and what had not, but the number of bacta patches missing from the supply put a small ease on her, and the sight and sound of your slowly steady vitals was enough to keep her from jumping to extremes. She had no particular love for droids, though certainly not hating them as much as the young Din, the money spent to install the machinery was well used, even if the original purpose had been to heal warriors after missions with wounds that needed immediate attention.

That did not mean she found any time to rest on the way home, constantly watching for the slightest sign of life other than the low beeping of the monitor, and the ever so faint rise and fall of your chest as she counted each breath you took. The flight seemed to take double the amount of time it normally did, each second dragging on for eternity, until finally the landing gear of the Starjumper touched the surface of Nevarro. Thankfully it was night, and she had no issues once again lifting you into her arms and carrying you through the deserted streets to the coven. Its familiar coolness encompassed her as soon as she emerged from the stairs into the lower levels. The deathly silent halls were a stark contrast to her own panic.

Ignoring the guards, who’s attention faltered as they caught sight of her haul, she brushed past and headed straight to the only person who could help.

Olia, their healer, answered the door in her sleeping clothes, helmet clearly having been shoved on in her haste to answer the Armorer’s loud and incessant pounding on the door.

“What in the stars do you want this late..at..” Her sentence tapered off as she saw it wasn’t just a random idiotic warrior who had injured themselves, but her Alor, holding someone who clearly wasn’t Mandalorian.

“Fix them.”

The next few hours were a flurry of activity as Olia fixed what the med unit had not, resetting your afflicted arm which had been simply bandaged before and trying not to flinch at the nasty noises it made while doing so. Each thread of the needle to close skin together felt as if it were digging into her own flesh. Still, she watched, unable to tear herself away even as she knew in the back of her mind that rumor had already spread about her return. They would be looking for answers, and she would give them in due time. For now, they would have to practice patience just as she was.

Finally, two hours later, Olia was done. Wiping the sweat from the back of her neck as she admired her work, she explained the situation to the Armorer as she approached your bedside on stiff legs. She simply stared, not daring to touch when you looked so fragile. She hated it, the way your skin had lost its beautiful tone. The once powerful and proud posture she had seen stepping around the forge like a wild loth was nowhere to be seen. Your body seemed to have sunken in on itself, defensive even now.

“Her body is keeping itself under for now. Not surprising given the amount of trauma and injuries sustained, but if she does start to come around, I’ll give her something that should keep her under, or at least enough that she won’t register what’s going on. I would recommend it for as long as we can so that her wounds have time to heal without issue.”

She looked back over your still body, letting out a sympathetic sigh as she moved to do so.

“Even then, she’s not going to be moving around on her own too much any time soon. Wherever she came from, I hope they aren’t expecting her back anytime soon.”

The Armorer could feel the underlying question in her words, and for what she had done the women had earned her answer.

“That won’t be an issue. There is nowhere to go back to.” She looked away from your form for the first time, something that did not go unnoticed by the observant healer.

“She’s ours now. Treat her as you would any warrior, for she has fought just as bravely.”

She nodded solemnly. The Alor was know to always be serious and straight laced, but the way she was acting now gave way to more than words could ever tell. Tentatively, she rested a hand on her pauldron.

“Go. Get some rest. I can watch over her for now.”

The Armorer hesitated, feeling the lack of rest catching up as the adrenaline finally began to wear from her system. But to leave now would only leave her mind to wonder instead of knowing what was happening at every moment.

Olia sensed her hesitation, pushing her more firmly in the direction of the door.

“Once she’s more stable I will move her to a more comfortable bed. If there’s any changes then I’ll alert you but until then there’s nothing for you to do, and the others are bound to be wanting answers.”

Rod straight shoulders dropper slightly at her words, and a smile tore its way across the old woman’s face as she realized she had won.

Guiding her further out, she made sure the smith was out and well on her way to her own space before closing the door. What she didn’t see was that, instead of turning down the hall that led to individual dwellings, she instead turned right, down the path that would lead her to the only place she could think, to feel less powerless than she was right now. Her forge, where she fell heavily onto her work bench, unmoving as she stared blankly into the once comforting blue flames of the fire. Now they only acted as a painful reminder, thinking back to the times back in your own dwelling. She had yet to move, and Paz found her in the same position when he entered, leading to their current situation.

“I would never doubt your commitment to the tribe, but I must doubt the wisdom of bringing an outsider here! Into the heart of our tribe!”

Had she been in any other situation, she would have no hesitation in putting him back in his place. Heavy infantry expert and lead warrior or not, he had no right to speak in such a way to her. The only thing that saved him from her hammer and tongue was the fact her mind was still filled with thoughts of you. In this moment she even found herself thankful for his questioning. It meant that there was at least one person still thinking straight enough to be an effective leader in her stead.

“It’s her.”

“It's her?” he parroted the words, twisted with their own sense of confusion. “What do you mean it’s h-“ The words stuck mid-sentence as the wheels turned in his head, slowly putting the pieces together. From where he knew she was going, the small glimpse and rumors he had gotten from the others describing you, and the way his Alor was acting now, he was able to come up with his own relatively accurate assumption.

“The Smith.”

Her silence was his only answer, but it was all he needed.

Moving slowly, he settled his own large frame next to hers on the bench, which creaked under the weight. It felt odd, seeing her look so deflated and almost small. Even after years of putting on muscle from the forge and training, she still had nothing on him size wise. Though he was still positive she could beat him in a fight if it came to it, and she had countless times before.

His voice took on a softer, more rumbling tone.

“How did it happen?”

“The Empire. I only got there after they were gone, though there was really nothing left to go back to.”

He wanted to ask more, what they were doing there, why they chose such an outlandish, insignificant town, but he already knew. They both knew. It was because of them. While tolerated by the empire, both sides knew the other would wipe them out if given the chance. With so many going to one town multiple times, it was bound to draw attention. They had just been willing to believe that the Empire would turn a blind eye to it, just like they had with Nevarro.

How foolish of them.

Now they had dragged an innocent bystander, who had done nothing but help them and expecting nothing in return, into their fight, costing them not only their home but almost their life.

Though Paz was more akin to fighting than feelings himself, he could see the turbulence going on within her. Years of being what one might consider confidents let him know everything he needed to.

“She’ll pull through. From what you’ve told me, she’s strong. Not to mention she has Olia looking after her. And besides,” he stood up, walking out to give her space to do what she did best. To think, and come up with the next best plan of action for them to take.

“I still have yet to meet this mysterious smith.”

_______________________________________________

You had never been much of a morning person. Waking up bright and early just to face the scorching heat of your planet's twin suns combined with that of your forge didn’t make for a promising work day. Alas, that was when a majority of customers would come looking for wears and weapons, as well as to hire your services. Even though you preferred working during the marginally cooler nights, you still braved the day, gritting your teeth and dragging your feet as you forced your body into motion. As hard as it had always been then, it was nothing compared to how you were feeling now.

Every fiber of your being felt as if it had been run over by a Loshev, then further trampled on. Not even in the early times of your apprenticeship, when you had gone to bed with the inability of even being able to lift your arms to fold back the blankets after lifting your hammer an immeasurable amount of times, had you ever felt this sore. Everything from head to toe hurt, and the thought of moving at all was enough to fill your body with a sense of dread.

Instead of doing so, you settled on just getting your eyes open, which itself proved to be a difficult task. They felt as if the skin itself was welded together; made of Kiern metal as they dragged open painfully.

Darkness was the first thing you saw. Shapes and colors only came along after a few moments as your eyes adjusted. Blurred objects slowly came into focus as you took in your surroundings.

You were in a dimly lit room, the only source of light coming from a small lantern hanging from the wall. It’s glow cast drastic shadows on each object, giving the unfamiliar space a touch of comfort with its warm light. The furnishings themselves were rather bare, consisting of only a few boxes stacked on top of one another with small trinkets of one kind or another littered around, and the bed which you currently resided on.

Pulling the blankets aside, you hissed at the way your body groaned in protest, feeling as if every nerve were on fire. It appeared that the lantern also provided the only source of heat because as soon as the surprisingly quality blanket left you were subjugated to the cool air of the small space. You noted areas of bandages scattered all over your body, covering most of your arm and spilling across your torso. The scratchy material could also be felt under your pants, catching on the material and rubbing uncomfortably at your temples.

Pushing yourself into a sitting position, your head swam as the pounding from within increased, leaving you gasping for breath. As much as it hurt, you had to keep moving. You didn’t know where you were, or who was around. The last thing you remember was the walls of your home coming down around you as fighters screamed overhead. For all you knew, you were being held by some backworld smuggler who intended to use you for profit, working to make weapons or using your body for other means. Bandaged wounds or not, you had to get out before the choice was taken away.

Getting to your feet was, unexageratly, one of the most difficult things you had ever done. Your legs gave out as soon as they touched the ground, forcing you to use a majority of upper body strength to drag your way across the room to the door on the opposite wall. It was far from graceful, and there was even a point where you bumped into one of the various stacks of crates. It was nothing more than a little bump, but enough to knock a precariously placed holoboard from its perch on the edge.

Clattering to the floor loudly, it only prompted you to move faster, the fear of someone having heard the ruckus and coming to investigate. You prayed to the maker that wasn’t the case, but with the luck you had been having lately it should have been no surprise when the door opened with a loud creak. A shadow fell over your crawling form, and you looked up expecting the worst. Someone like a pirate or scavenger, maybe even an enforcer. What you weren’t expecting was a child, or what you assumed was one at least.

The person standing in the doorway was small. They were just shy of reaching halfway up the frame, lithe frame hunched in on itself from what you could see peeking around the opening. It was hard to tell their exact age, due to the achingly familiar helmet they wore. While far from being a replica, it was still close enough to that of your beloved Armorer to send a pang through your already aching body. The polished metal reflected the new light of the hall in an almost blinding manor. An owlish visor stared down at your form, just as frozen as you were.

Then, before you could react, they were gone. Light footsteps echoed down the corridors, growing more and more faint until they disappeared completely, leaving you in silence once again. There was only a moment of hesitation before you were on the move once again, now with a reinvigorated urgency.

Finally making it to the door, you used the frame to pull yourself up, gasping all the while as sharp jolts of pain stemmed from every part of your body. Emerging from the room you were met with the sight of similar metal walls as the room. They extended in both directions, the one to your left extending into darkness while there were two branching paths on the right. While having no idea where exactly you were and no reference on how to get out, you still pushed forward.

Heading right, your path was lit by only the occasional light on the wall. Some were the normal low lights that could be found on virtually any planet, while others were a more archaic version using oil and gas were scattered in between. You could tell you were most likely somewhere underground judging from the cool, damp feel the air carried. Either that or you were on an already cold planet, as judging from the state of the room you woke in, it was doubtable that you were in such a place that would waste resources on high quality cooling.

Reaching the split path, you paused, giving yourself a moment to breathe and recuperate as you listened carefully down each. The left was dead silent, almost unnervingly so, and for a moment you thought the second was the same. However, the light flicker of the nearest flame caught your attention. It moved consistently back in the direction you came, not like how it would normally; and with how much of your life had been spent staring and carefully watching such flames it was almost childs play to tell it was being manipulated by something else. Listening closer once again, you could hear it. The slight whisper of the wind. It’s draft was light, almost undetectable, but if you enough it was there. Gently caressing your skin and whispering promises of a way out.

It was a slow go, and painful the entire time. Your body gave not a moment of relief, in just as much pain as when you woke up if not more. It was hard to even take a full breath. Your lungs felt as if they would burst with each inhale. It was as if the air itself was made of fire. The pain didn’t leave much room for thought, but those that you did have were for the armored warrior you had been so abruptly reminded of earlier.

You had no idea where she was now, or if she even knew what had happened. The message may have never even gotten through, and while the Mandalorians were always well informed of the events going on around the galaxy you had no idea how long you had been here. It could be just a night or day; maybe even a week. She only visited every thirty rotations, so she could only find out when she came by for her next visit, only to find nothing but ash.

Would she mourn your supposed death, or would it be more so due to the loss of a weapons provider and face they could use to get supplies and information without knowing who it was really going to? Maybe it would be a relief not to have to worry about any information about them being uncovered. A loose end tied up without them having to do any of the work.

The thought of her throwing whatever connection you thought you had away, especially after having fallen so hard for the strong woman, hurt your heart almost as much as your body. It was a mortifying thought, and one that distracted you from not only the pain for a moment, but also caused a lapse in judgment that allowed your pursuers to get so close. It was only too late that you heard their footsteps echoing behind you in the dimly lit hall. A new wave of fear coursed through your body, pushing you further as they got closer to you, and yourself finally emerging into a larger section of the hall. This one had alcoves lining the top of the wall, allowing the moonlight and cool night air from outside to filter in and drain the hope from your body. The entire time you thought you were getting closer to a way out, you had just been losing yourself deeper in the maze of the unfamiliar compound. It was cruel for fate to do so, but there was nothing to be done now. Not when your pursuers were getting so close.

Your eyes darted around the small area, locking for a place to hide or at least a weapon to defend yourself with, before settling on one of the many alcoves. It was under the small windows that allowed the traitorous light and breeze in, leaving it bathed in darkness.

Thinking quickly, you limped over and forced yourself into the narrow space. It was plenty tall, but so thin it forced your shoulders straight and grated on your exposed skin as you slipped in. Here, your breaths sounded even louder and more labored, forcing you to muffle them with your hand and making it even harder to breathe. It wasn’t the best spot, and quite obvious now that you thought about it, but there was no time to find a new one as a group burst in through the arch you had emerged from seconds prior.

It was hard to see with your eyes still adjusting to the dimness of your little space combined with the light blur they still held, and you simply squeezed them shut, unable to watch as you listened to them get closer to your hiding spot, and focused on remaining as silent as possible. One hand clamped over your mouth, the other wrapped around your body as it squeezed as tightly as possible, as if it were the only thing keeping you together.

You could hear them talking. Their voices sounded muffled even as they bounced off the cold stone walls, and they spoke in low tones that made it nearly impossible to hear. A few still made their way through however.

‘Escaped’ ‘gone far’ ‘Find them-’ ‘kill’

The last word sent a shiver down your spine. It was only made worse as one of the group got closer than any had yet stopped mere feet away. The rough, damp stone dug into your skin as you pushed yourself further back, duly noting the itching pull of your wounds as they grew heated.

They were going to find you, and once they did they were going to kill you, or worse.

A moment passed. Then two. Then several more, all waited out with tension so thick it would put any ship hull to shame, before the shadowy figure retreated. Their own footsteps faded in with the others as they moved on in search of their present target of you, continuing to head down the maze of halls.

Even once they were gone you didn’t allow yourself to relax for a full minute, too fearful of them coming back. But as the momentarily spike in adrenaline wore off and your current position became increasingly uncomfortable, you allowed yourself to relax. Greedily gulping in as much air as your recovering lungs would allow, you were doubled over as you tried to recover. That position, combined with the increasingly loud pounding in your ears, left you unaware of your surroundings and defenseless against the shadow that unknowingly approached.

Their arm reached in, easily pulling you from your hiding place and out into the open.

“N-no! Stop!” You fought back weakly, pushing away at the figure that held you in an iron grip, not yet painful but refusing to budge as you clawed at it uselessly.

“Please.” It was a whimpering, pathetic sounding plea. One born of desperation and fear. Never in your life would you think yourself to sink to such levels, yet here you were, bracing for the pain you knew would come. They would drag you back, either to that little room or somewhere even more secluded, and there was nothing you could do about it.

You braced as the person shifted, recoiling as they brought their free hand up. You expected a hit, a slap. Something that would daze if not knock you completely out. What you weren’t expecting was the gentle caress of fingers along the skin, tracing along your cheek and following its slope up, where it gently rested, silently urging you to open your eyes and raise your gaze.

There was hardly a chance to be confused by the action before a sense of familiarity hit. Worn leather, softer than porg fur and just as warm despite the chilly environment, was stained with the smell of oil and sharp tang of metal. It was a scent that you had thought of many times, haunting your thoughts at night as you wished to be nothing more than wrapped in its comfort.

With a shuddering breath, you forced yourself to look up into the visor of your captor.

The gold of her helmet seems even brighter now as the light of the moon causes it to practically radiate under its glow, starkly contrasting the inky darkness of the owlish visor as it tilts in a way that gives away her concern.

There’s a moment of silence as you simply stare at one another, an exchange of silent emotion as you take each other in.

“Tracinya’ika…” The voice that flows from her helmet is akin to a whisper, seeming almost impossibly soft for such a warrior. However quiet, it’s enough to break the last of your resolve. The Armorer catches you as your legs give out, exhaustion finally catching up. She doesn’t say a thing, simply letting you bury your face in the warm fur covering clasped over her shoulders as you silently hiccup and stutter.

“H-how did I get here? The last thing I remember is-” your unable to finish, screams of the villagers mingling with tie fighters coming to the surface along with a crushing, constricting feeling gripping your chest, as if you were trapped under the rubble once again.

Seeming to sense your thoughts, the Armorer places a comforting hand on your lower back to lead you away. When it becomes apparent that there’s no way you’ll be walking on your own, she pauses a moment, before bending down and sweeping you off your feet to carry you bridal style down the hall, past the other Mandalorians that had appeared without a sound. They were silent as she passed, though their curiosity was almost tangible. She paid them no mind however, easily carrying you through the dim halls and allowing you to once again bury your face into the fur of her cowl. If she minds she says nothing of it.

“There is much to explain.” Her voice rumbles, vibrating through her chest and against your cheek. “But you have been through much. For now, rest. When you awake, you can ask as many questions as you like.”

You wanted to argue, to protest, but there was no energy left to do so. Your escape attempt had left you drained. Instead, you simply let your head rest against the chilled metal of her armor, allowing the gentle sway of her walk to lull you back to sleep without the fear of what was to come, knowing you were safe as long as she was around.

____________________________________

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

You froze, the crate of rations you were about to hand to the man next to you blocking your vision from the worst of the glare you could already feel. That barrier was shortly removed, leaving you exposed to the cross Mandalorian.

It had been foolish to think you would be able to sneak off without her knowing. Nothing went on in these tunnels that she didn’t know about. If you didn’t know any better you may think that she had monitors hidden around the place, or maybe even a tracking device to keep tabs on you. It was more likely someone had mentioned your whereabouts in passing, or she had come for one of her usual check-ins throughout the day.

“You should not be up and about, none the less moving supplies.” Her gaze snaps to the others, who were all similarly frozen as they watched. You felt slightly guilty, knowing they didn’t deserve her wrath.

“Why would you let her in here? If the cold doesn’t make her sick then the labor will only make her recovery that much longer.”

The man visibly flinched at her tone, her attention now focused on him as the others slowly back away, letting him take the blame.

“Well, I just thought-”

“You clearly did not, else she would not be working herself to the bone.”

She takes a step closer to the man, sending him into a panic as he quickly backpedals, stammering.

“Hey.” You grab her arm, instantly shifting her attention back to you. Unlike the others, you don’t shrink back or even flinch. Instead you stare back into the darkness of her helmet. “It’s not his fault. I told him it was alright, that I was fine to work.”

The Armorer stares a moment longer, glancing back once more at the others before grabbing you by the hand, shoving the crutch you had been using since your leg healed enough to put weight on into your hand and dragging you away. She continues to scold you as she walks, never pausing in her climb from the lower levels as she continues to make you feel more and more like a child.

“There is no reason for you to have to work in your condition. Olia said rest would do you best.”

“That was weeks ago.” You huff, using the wall to stabilize yourself a bit better as you attempt to keep up with her quick pace. “And it’s only right that I do something to pull my own weight, especially after all that you and the others have done for me.”

“You have already done enough for us, and once you are fully healed I know you will continue to help. Until then I implore you to rest.”

The concern she held made you blush, her complimenting words nearly winning you over. Too stubborn for your own good however, your tongue speaks your thoughts before you can stop it.

“I know, but I can’t help but feel that I’m taking advantage of you. I just want to be, you know, useful.”

Your words cause her to pause, nearly causing you to collide with her back, sending a glance over her shoulder to your deflated figure. Logically she knows that there’s nothing wrong with wanting to help out, even sending a streak of pride through her at your eagerness to help her people, but the small voice constantly hounding her and leading to her protectiveness was too loud to ignore.

To your surprise, instead of heading down the left hall to what you knew would lead to the room you had been set up in since arriving, she turned to the right. Following cautiously, you looked about with wide eyes, having never been down this way before despite being her for weeks now. There were still many parts of the tunnels you didn’t know, mainly memorizing the paths to important places such as the communal area, storage rooms(which were the easiest to sneak off to help in), and of course the forge.

Soon enough you enter another section. The smell of metal and oil hits as soon as you step over the threshold, taking you by surprise. It was even stronger here than the forge, which was saying something. Though with the number of weapons and armor lining the walls it was to be expected. Every inch of the room, from the ceiling to the floor and even laying in piles were weapons. The order with which they were all organized in was impressive, not a single piece out of place in the organized chaos. And there, in the middle of it all, was one of the biggest men you had ever seen.

Your own father had been large, standing at six five, and while this man seemed to be slightly shorter he more than made up for it with width. Shoulders like a rancore, with hands so large they made you jealous of the potential grip strength, he looked as if he could snap you without a second thought. It’s not as if you were some petite thing in your own right, yet you felt dwarfed for one of the first times in your life.

As soon as he noticed you enter, he stood, his head bowing in acknowledgement.

“Alor.” He helmet shifted towards you, unconsciously forcing you further behind your bronze protector. “How can I help you?”

She shifts to the side, exposing you further as her hand gently rests against the small of your back, pushing you further towards the giant.

“It seems our newest friend can’t sit still. Unfortunately I can not watch them at all times to ensure they do not sneak off, but I know I can trust you to watch and keep them entertained.”

His head tilts, studying you closer as your heart jumps to your throat. In the process of trying to pull your own weight, you were now nothing this man with having to babysit you.

“I’m sure he has better things to do. If we just go back I could-”

“No. You will stay with Paz until I come for you. He will keep you from sneaking to the lower levels and lifting boxes.” A warning lay under her tone, both for you and Paz. His helmet dips in a nod once again, silently accepting his new instructions as she lightly ruffles your hair, pulling back only when your hand swats at hers.

“Do not worry. I am sure you two will get along just fine. I’ve had enough trouble keeping him away as it is.” Before you could try and argue once again she was gone, turning on heel and heading back down the passage. Great. Now you were alone with a giant and potentially grumpy Mandalorian while surrounded by weapons, which was both potentially good and bad.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage and turned back to Paz, as he had been called. He was still standing, watching as you cautiously approached.

“H-hello there.” You mentally cursed yourself for stuttering, only imagining what he might think of you now. Still, you powered on. “You’re name is Paz, right? I’m-”

“I know who you are.” He cuts you off, flopping back down into his seat as he picks up the weapon he had previously been inspecting.

“Oh….You do?”

He snorts. “Everyone knows who you are. You made quite the entrance.”

You flush, still embarrassed you had made such a spectacle arriving. Definitely not how you had hoped to meet such esteemed warriors, bloody and defeated. He seemed to sense your embarrassment.

“No matter. I’ve known about you before then.” He twirled the blaster in his hand, one that you now recognized as your own craft. “Been a fan of your work for a while.”

Gesturing to the bench across from him, you soon found yourself becoming comfortable with the blue man. Within the hour you had relaxed completely, joking around with him as he answered any questions you had about the location of rooms or the odd Mandalorian you had yet to talk with. The conversation quickly shifts to, of course, weapons, as you talk about the ups and downs of each design.

“It’s good to have someone to talk with like this. Nobody back on Quilon were interested in the craft of weapons. They just cared if they shot or not.” He took the weapon you had just finished checking, looking for nicks or spots needing maintenance, and handed you another. It was a small mercy he had granted you. While not a physically demanding task it was enough to keep you busy and feeling useful. There was a lot to get through after all, and he surmised there was no one better to check weapons then one who knows their ins and outs.

“While many like to use the weapons, they don’t get too familiar with their inner workings.”

“That’s why we’re here though.” You point out, only causing him to sigh.

“Yes, but if I have to fix one more blaster that simply has a residue build up that could be solved with a good cleaning I’m going to strangle them.”

“I’m glad she brought me here. What she’s done, what you’ve all done, is amazing. If I could spend my life working alongside her it would be more than enough.

He pauses, in the middle of sharpening a skinning knife, his helmet tilting up before going back to his work. “I’m sure she would be delighted to hear so. You should tell her yourself.”

You pause, confused. “What do you mean? She already knows that I want to continue making weapons for you all.”

Now you had his full attention, staring back at one another across the small gap as you both tried to discern the others thoughts. His words made no sense. She knew your intentions to stay, so why would you need to explain any further? You wanted to stay, more specifically just for her, but there was no way you could just tell her that. To risk ruining everything you had built between the two of you? Just for some silly little crush? No thank you. You were content being as useful to her as you could now, relishing in the little crumbs of affection you received now.

“You have to be kidding me.” He finally says, breaking the silence. “She literally calls you ‘ni tracinya’!”

You blink owlishly, still not understanding. Your Mandoa was still coming along. As of now you only knew a few words, mostly greetings and curse words, much to the amusement of the clan and the disdain of the Armorer.

He throws his hands in exasperation, head practically slamming back into the wall behind him. “It means ‘my flame’ for makers sake! Listen,” He leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees as his voice takes on a more serious tone. “Think real hard, back to when you first came here. You’re telling me you haven’t noticed anything?”

Now that he mentions it, you do remember some odd things that you had never really put into question before now.

When you had first been cleared to move out of bed by Olia, the Armorer had insisted on moving you to a room closer to the forge, claiming its warmth would do you better then the cooler parts of the tunnels where the injured normally stayed. You had been cautious, unsure of being so close to the center of the tribe space and felt as if you were being invasive. She had assured you it was only temporary, to sooth your concerns you suspected, though that was quickly thrown out the window as the small space quickly collected a number of trinkets thanks to the little ones. After overcoming their initial hesitancy and fear of being an outsider, they were constantly bringing small objects and bits of easily bent and cut pieces of metal for you to make things out of, trading your creations for their own crude versions. The majority were from the Armorer however, and you treasured those the most. They were nothing extravagant, certainly not to the level of detail you would go into, but you wouldn’t have expected her to. Her focus was always more on practicality, though that’s not to say her works weren’t beautiful in their own right. Your own just placed more emphasis on the small details, and you were allowed the time and pleasure of putting them there.

She had brought you all your meals during that time, eventually evolving to the point where you would enjoy them together in her forge when you were well enough, your backs pressed to one another with a covering tightly wrapped around your eyes. Hardly was there a time when you weren’t greeted with the warm shine of her armor, the fur she wore brushing your skin and sending shivers down your spine with how close she stood at times. Her hand would constantly be touching your back or shoulder, holding your wrist as she led you through the halls even when you knew the way. There were many nights you would fall asleep in the forge, lulled by it’s warmth and the familiar sound to metal striking metal. It both soothed and made the itch to work once more that much worse.

The memory brought on a shy smile, accompanied by a light flush across your skin. It was times like that when you could allow yourself to wish, to hope, that you might mean something more than just a friend or fellow smith.

Just as soon as the thought arrived you were quick to banish it. Dreaming of the impossible would only bring more disappointment. And so, with a small laugh and roll of your eyes, you implored Paz to put it to rest; and to his credit, he did. The thought still lingered on your mind however, and you wanted to curse him for putting it there.

You continue to check and clean the weapons in peace, avoiding any and all conversation surrounding the previous topic until dinner. Or what you thought was around the right time. It seemed that even with all the time spent in the dark tunnels you had yet to gain the innate ability to just tell what time it was without looking at a clock. Paz sure knew though, racking his weapon with you following his lead.

“Your company wasn’t as annoying as others, and your weapons knowledge and appreciation is respectable, though I would expect nothing else from someone in your situation.” He reached his hand out, watching as you realized he wanted you to shake it. His hands were just as strong as you had thought, firmly grasping your own as you got into a small battle trying to squeeze the other. “Feel free to find me any time you’re bored. Keep Alor from getting frustrated and who knows, once you heal enough I might be able to teach you how to fight for the next time you run into any imperial troops.”

“That sounds...great.” He dropped his arm, handing you your walking stick and leading you back through the tunnels to the communal area as you added the new path to your mental map. His large strides were hard to keep up with, and though you suspected he had adjusted his pace you were still out of breath by the time you reached your destination. Inside the circular space there were a number of mandalorians lounging around. Children ran amuck, some helmed some not, weaving between the adults and ignoring their complaints. As soon as you entered a crowded space they descended like a swarm. Small hands pulled at your clothes, climbing up your non injured leg. After the scolding they had received last time they made sure to give your injuries a wide berth.

They were clamoring, all trying to be first to show you the small projects that had been working on or made that day. The others looked on with mild amusement, or so you assumed that's what was shown behind their visors. There were many jokes passed around that you were turning their young warriors into inventors and thinkers, though you hardly saw it as a problem. Exploring bright minds and exercising critical thinking skills would only make them that much better in any tight situations. It’s not like they couldn’t do both after all.

Your eyes scanned the crowd, bouncing over the family colors painted in intricate patterns on armor as you looked for one in particular.

“She’s still in the forge.” You jumped, causing your current passengers to squeal as they were nearly thrown from your elevation to the ground. Olia stepped closer, shooing the children away, causing a ruckus of groans and complaints, but nevertheless did as they were told. They knew better than to disrespect an elder, and their medic at that. Placing two ration portions into your hands, she’s already pushing you down the main hall.

“Never a moment of rest for that one.” She jokes, turning on her heel and heading back into the common area before you even have a chance to speak.With nothing more than a shrug, you continue on, walking the by now familiar path to deliver the food.

Warmth is the first thing that greets you, a heavenly contrast to the otherwise cold and damp dwelling. Not that you hated it, but growing up on a planet with two suns and working in a forge for the majority of your life made anything below blazing feel like Hoth. The clang of metal striking metal rings clear and crisp, but as owled eyes catch your movement, the hammer pauses mid strike, afloat for just a moment before quickly being deposited back into her belt.

Holding up the ration packs for her to see, she’s already moving, fluidly packing up her project and clearing a space as you pull the bench from the wall, settling on the wood with a light creak. Not long after, gloved hands found your skin, briefly brushing over your cheeks and causing butterflies to erupt throughout your body, setting every nerve on fire as the soft fabric of the blindfold replaced her hands. It wasn’t something you ever questioned or protested, simply content being allowed the level of trust such an action required, though you would often question what you had done to earn such an honor from an esteemed figure such as herself. The tools along her belt clicked softly, the only thing telling her location as she closed the shutters to the forge.

Not a word was said the entire time, and you didn’t need any. The practice had been born after she had gotten on your back about finishing meals, only to have you express your awkwardness of eating alone while she watched, combined with your own concern with her eating enough. She was always working, crafting new armor and weapons, or meeting with elders and warriors to discuss and organize the smaller aspects of clan life. The disregard she had for her own health when she always put so much work into that of others was both adermable and frustrating. It became one of the few things you could do during the day, making sure she had eaten and stayed hydrated in the heat of the forge. Dinner was the only time she sat down however, enjoying whatever rations or food had been chosen for the night.

After the blindfold was on and your own ration pack was in hand, it wasn’t long before you felt her warmth at your back as she too settled down on the bench. The fur of her cowl tickled your skin, telling you of how close she sat. Then you just talk. Telling her about your day and the new things you had learned.

“Introducing me to Paz almost makes up for the scene earlier.” You joke “His knowledge of weapons and their care is amazing. I can see myself getting closer with him.”

You could have imagined it, but you could swear you felt her tense behind you.

“Not too close I would imagine. Olia has informed me that you should be cleared to go back to work within a week or two.”

Perking at her words, you grew excited. It had been so long that you had begun to think you would never craft again.

“I’m glad to hear that. I already worry about the muscle mass I’ve lost since being laid up.” Laughing, you bump your shoulders against hers. “I feel like my shoulders are only half their size now, everything all atrophied and squishy.”

She’s silent, and you think the joke just fell flat, or she’s simply tired from the day.

“So you enjoyed staying with Paz today. I can assume that means I won’t have to worry about you sneaking off if I leave you with him again?”

“No.” Chuckling, you set down the now empty ration container. There’s no rush for her to finish, as you enjoy these small moments. It’s easy to pretend to be something more, something closer.

It may have been the comforting warmth of her body combined with that of the forges own heat and scents, or simply the exhaustion that came with having been able to do actual work for the first time in weeks. Either way, your tongue was loose and words flowed without thought.

“It’s hard to believe I’m here. I never thought I would ever go anywhere besides Quilon. It’s where my family has lived since forever. My mother and father, my grandparents, their parents and so on. We’ve all come from the same planet. After they died I was scared to even think about traveling. I thought that if I left I would be alone. The forge was the only thing I had left even close to family.”

Losing it had been hard. When you had first heard the news after waking it had felt like you were crushed by its foundation all over again. Olia and the Armorer had to practically force you to eat, not having the energy to do even want to get out of bed. Recovery had been slow, especially when there was nothing to go back to. It was around the time she let the children into your room, tasking them with keeping an eye on you while she tended to the clan duties she had been neglecting. It was the young ones, so bright and full of energy, that pulled you from the slump. As soon as your crafting skills were discovered after absentmindedly making a flower out of paper scraps they had all but demanded you show them more. Leading you through the tunnels and teaching you games had come after. Soon enough you were almost back to normal, able to smile and laugh once again.

It had nearly broken her to see you in such a state. The fire your eyes had once held had been reduced to little more than smoldering ash, while the glow that radiated seemed to radiate from your skin itself had dimmed. You had lost everything to the empire, but Maker be damned if she wasn’t going to do her best to give it back and then some.

“Would it be wrong of me to say it was a good thing?” She jerked at your words, taken by surprise.

“And why would that be?”

“Well, I got to meet all of you. Olia, Paz, even the young ones. You’ve all been so kind to me.” A slight hesitation, unsure if the next words would be stepping over boundaries.

No. You had come this far, and knowing her she would only pry in that aloof way of hers until you divulged a proper answer.

“Even if none of you feel the same way, I like to think that you’ve become something of a family to me. It’s been so long since I've known what it's been like to be a part of a family, so that’s what I think this feeling is at least.” A deep breath, pushing the words that seemed to catch. You can’t live feeling like this anymore, Paz’s words coming back to you once again and giving you a small amount of confidence.

“I would like to be a part of your family. With you, that is.”

With bated breath, you wait. She’s silent, but not in the way she normally is. It’s more calculated, the air itself charged. Heart pounding in your ears, you're not sure if you would have even heard her answer. Instead of any words however, you find yourself blinded by the light of the flames as your blindfold is practically ripped off, revealing the cause of your emotional rollercoaster herself, helmet back on yet with a gaze more intense than you’ve experienced yet.

“I have always been content with my deal in life. I provide for my clan, do my best to lead and keep them safe. True leaders are those that are selfless, however,” her hand grasps yours, pulling you closer. The cool feel of her helmet sends shivers down your spine; a stark contrast to your own burning skin. “But since I have met you, I have been nothing but selfish. I want everything that you are; from your body to your soul.”

Getting up, she leads you to the far corner of her forge. A small strike of disappointment hits as she lets go of your hand to dig through one of the storage compartments. It quickly dissipates as she emerges with an all too familiar item.

You gasp. It was a helmet, just like the one you had been working on and lost on Quilon. The real one was lost, but the one before you took many of the elements you had worked into your own and combined them with a more traditional Mandoan style. The eyes had the same wider vision you had been incorporating. A combination of the classic t-visor with the more elegant swooped eyes that females seemed to favor. The jawline was also slightly more convex then normal, allowing for greater range of the head and felt less claustraphobic. Other than that, it seemed she had taken her own creative liberties and upon closer inspection you saw it was eerily similar to her own. Instead of bronze it was a silvery blue, the same three lines running down the forehead with only two horns, looking as if they were coated in the bronze color as her own. Etched into each of the cheek recesses was a hammer and tongs respectively, done in the same elegant etching found on many of your own weapons.

“I will not push you to make a decision, but I do wish you to know; if you pledge yourself to the creed, to the tribe, to me, you will never find yourself alone again. I will personally make sure of it.” Her voice barely makes its way past the vecoder. Never before had she spoken in such a gentle tone, even to yourself.

“You will be mine as I will be yours.”

Taking the helmet in your own hands, the surprising lightness of such a large metal object nearly causes you to throw it. Turning it over and inspecting every inch, you know you’re only delaying the inevitable. For so long you wanted to be part of a family, to help and be more than just a weapons crafter. Furthermore, the very person you wished, no, yearned, to spend the rest of your life with was the one to ask.

“To spend the rest of my life by your side, providing for the tribe, would be all too short.” Smiling, you pull the helmet, your helmet, closer.

For a second you think she’s short circuited, frozen in place. Then, quick as a blaster shot, she grabs your arm and drags you from the forge, all but throwing the shutter open and practically running down the hall as you struggle to keep up with your still sore leg. Briefly you catch a flash of familiar blue armor, but it's gone before you can get a good look. Instead you focus on keeping pace with the bronze warrior.

“Wh-where are we going.”

Others are watching as you pass, moving out of your path as their Alor continues her war path.

“The elders.” She says without stopping and, not winded in the slightest as, in one fell swoop, you find yourself swept into her arms and being carried bridal style as her pace continues to pick up speed. An impressive move if you hadn’t been so shocked.

“We have much to prepare.”

#star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars #x reader #fanfiction #mandalorian armorer #the armorer x reader #mando x reader #mandalor #fanfic #paz vizsla #the mandalorian

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bimswritings · 3 years

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I now have a Kofi!

After much work I've finally put together my Kofi! There, you can help me continue to write and support my stories by donating or even requesting commissions for both art and writing! I'm having a bit of trouble hooking up paypal, but Venmo for commissions is available! Thanks for your support!-Bim

#star wars fanfiction #comission #small artist #writer #star wars #star wars x reader #bnha

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bimswritings · 3 years

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Games and Prizes

Warning:none

Ships: Reylo/Finnpoe

A server event that I recently took part in, with the prompt I received being carnival for @perry-the-rebelpus! I've never written for in show ships but I loved doing this. It leans more towards fairs since that's what I have more experience with, but never the less, I hope you enjoy! I also took a more modern AU approach as I felt it was the best way to tackle this!-Bim

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“Really Rey, we don’t have to do this.” Kylo tried to convince her for what felt like the thousandth time, and most likely was. Ever since she had discovered he had never been to a fair, she insisted on going, even calling and finding someone to cover her shift at the mechanics. The stubborn girl wouldn't have it though, ignoring his protest as she hopped off the motorcycle, grabbing the helmet from his hands and tossing it along with her own under the seat.

“Nonsense. Carnivals are an important part of growing up.” Her hand interlocked with his own, guiding him in the same direction as the crowd that was steadily streaming in. Ranging from families with excited and energetic children, to young couples such as themselves. “There was one that came through town every year when I was a kid. My parents always took me for a special treat at the end of the harvest.”

Rey’s eyes took on a softer, more distant look. One that Kylo knew all too well. It was the same one he got when talking about his own family, feelings of both sorrow and yearning for better times. Times that, despite how much they both may want to, they can’t go back to.

He lifted their intertwined hand, bringing Rey’s attention back to the present as he placed a light kiss to her knuckles. A small smile curved her lips, and they continued on to the increasingly bright lights of the carnival, the setting sun only highlighting their peaks further.

Once inside, they were quick to buy their wristbands for the rides, Rey practically bouncing with excitement the entire time in line. As soon as the offending neon green bands were in place she was pulling him towards the rides, her eyes bouncing between each one.

“Oh, let’s go on that one!” She pointed towards what could only be described as a giant wheel. It was as if a ferris wheel had been taken and laid down on its side, with the seats all inverted and its spinning capabilities dialed up a thousand.

“I’m not sure. Those seat belts don’t look like they would do a very good job of keeping me from flying off.” He eyed the offending items warily, to which Rey simply rolled her eyes as she pulled him into line.

“Children go on it and live. I think you’ll be fine Mr. ‘Tall and Brooding’.”

It didn’t take long for their turn to arrive, and it seemed like only in the blink of an eye were they strapping into the seats, the ride operator barely giving the belts a tug before moving to his operating booth in the center. With the press of a button the ride was whirring to life, slowly picking up speed until they were all but plastered to the side of the ride. The seats they were strapped to began moving up slightly, and it was only now that he noticed they were on rails that allowed them to move up and down with the increased G-force.

The pressure pushed his face back, though nothing he wasn’t used to. It was hard to focus on the ride with Rey beside him however. Her laughter spilled above the loud whirring of the ride and excited and terrified yells of the other riders. It was something he would never get used to, with how carefree and joyful it always sounded. Something he would always strive to hear as often as he could. Nothing could compare to the gut churning reaction he had when he heard it, though the sight of her stumbling, off balance and clearly still slightly disoriented, as they got off the ride came in a close second. It did nothing to deter her, still smiling as she pulled him to the next ride.

On and on they went, ride after ride all evening. It was only after she had proceeded to destroy him in bumper cars time after time that he suggested they go and get food.

“We can ride a bit longer!” Rey had tried to protest, not content to take a break until they had ridden all the rides at least twice. It was the first time she had been able to go to such an event ever since her parents had passed, and she was determined to make the most of it, even if she went a little hungry. Her stomach seemed to have other plans however, cutting her off in the middle of her protest with a loud growl of its own. Her cheeks flushed as Kylo chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and steering her towards the vendors. All night the smell of the overpriced and greasy food had been tempting him, though he dared not to eat any of the potential nauseating treats while Rey was still determined to ride so many things that spun.

After paying for a slice of pizza each, as well as an almost comically large elephant ear to split afterwards, they settled down on one of the far tables away from all the action.

“Thank you.” Rey spoke, finally breaking the comfortable silence that had developed as they watched others pass by. He cocked his head slightly to the side, confused and prompting her to clarify further.

“For agreeing to come, I mean. I know places like this aren’t really your style.” She grew suddenly shy, finding her fingers more interesting than anything else at the moment. Her nails nervously picked at one another, though there was nothing much to pick at. Years of working at the mechanics had left them short and cracked in places, much tougher than you would think for the rest of her looking so soft. Yet her hands were one of his favorite things. Hands that held his own softly, as if they weren’t the hands of a man who had killed dozens; that would softly card through his locks while absentmindedly laying on the couch. Hands that would hold his face close, brushing over each scar tenderly as she whispered soothing words for minutes, hours. As long as it took.

He thought her hands were the most beautiful things in the world, both then and now, as he took them in his own.

“For you, I would go anywhere.” He leaned in closer, locking games as he lightly pressed his forehead to hers. She was warm, her skin almost burning in contrast to the cool night air. Though it was anybody's guess how much it was due to her body temperature, and how much was caused by the quickly rising blush that consumed her face. “Especially if I could see you as happy as I have today.”

“You two really need to get a room.”

The third voice took them both by surprise, so wrapped up with one another that they hadn’t even noticed their audience, and in his surprise Kylo jolted forward, bashing his skull against Rey’s before falling backwards off the bench and landing painfully on his tailbone.

“Finn!” He heard her joyous shout. Propping himself up on his elbows, he spotted the named man, who was currently receiving a hug from his girlfriend, as well as Finn’s own boyfriend.

“Dameron.” He nodded, climbing to his feet as the man returned the gesture silently.

It wasn’t that they didn’t like one another, quite the opposite actually. They held nothing but respect for each other, both having spent time in the air force. The only rift came from the fact that Kylo had run more covert missions, often flying solo or with just a single partner, while Poe was in charge of and flew an entire squadron. He thought of him as more of a mercenary, while Kylo would consider his potential wasted on such general missions. Still, the greatest offense in his eyes was still the fact that he had chosen to date someone from the marines. The marines. Of all the branches, he had to choose someone from the one known for shooting first and asking questions never. The two might have never seen each other after serving, yet fate had other plans; of which being in the form of their respective partners having been best friends through high school and college. They had only met again by chance after moving to the same small town in hopes of living a quiet, simple life.

“I should have known you guys would be here. You’re never one to miss a fair.” Rey continued, moving back around the table to sit next to Kylo once again, who was still rubbing at the sore spot on his head, briefly wondering what her bones could possibly be made of to have not even flinched at such a hit.

“Maybe if we told you, we wouldn’t have to be subjugated to your nauseating sweetness.” Poe teased, leaning across the table while Finn rolled his eyes. “I have to say, I’m disappointed in you Ren. There’s children around here you know.’’

Kylo said nothing, only gathering their trash and standing, the rest following in suit as he spoke.

“Well, it was nice seeing you again, but we were about to continue our date night and-”

“You guys should join us!” Rey cut in, taking him by surprise. Even if it was her best friend, she was never really one for group outings, preferring just one or two other people.

“It would be just like old times!” Finn agreed.

Kylo was about to protest, and from the way Poe had opened his mouth he was too, but before either male could get a word out the two had already linked arms and were strolling away, deeping in conversation and leaving their dates forgotten. So, begrudgingly, the two men followed.

By this point night had fully set in and the activities of the fair were in full swing. Brightly colored tents lined the venue, creating makeshift paths that helped to funnel the large number of people into a form of organization. It seemed that Rey had had her fill of rides, as she and Finn continued on deeper into the games and shows section that ran along the outside. Here, vendors yelled and mocked, teased and prodded; anything they could do to get the attention of the passersby. Games of skill, strength, and pure luck, though anyone with half a brain knew that the majority were all rigid. Above and lining all the booths were more stuffed animals than Kylo had ever seen in his life, and though some of them he found creepy and downright ugly, he could see the appeal of some.

“Hey Rey! Look!” Finn pointed to one of the stalls, highlighting a create he had never seen before. It looked like a penguin, except the eyes were far too large, and it lacked a beak as well as the stark black and white of the animal in favor of more neutral tones.

The two were at the booth in a flash, the vendor already talking to them as Kylo and Poe caught up. Just from the looks of the man, Kylo immediately didn’t like him. He had spent enough time around others to be able to get an accurate read on them, and this guy had the same shifty, fox eyed look to him that all new recruits who were too big for their breeches had.

“Well hello there.” He leaned in, far too close for Kylo’s liking, and he felt himself tense, his pace quickening to reach them as the man continued his speel.

“Feel like testing your luck against the mysterious and dangerous kraken to free one of its victims.” He gestured to the creatures above.

Rey was immediately digging in her bag, looking for her wallet with Finn doing the same beside her. Before she could get too far however, he was there. Stepping between her and the booth, he pulled his wallet and slapped the five dollars on the counter. Poe did the same next to him.

The vendor collected the money with one fell swoop, tossing two balls onto the counter for them to load at the suction cup guns laying there. He did so with ease, the object feeling almost childishly small and fragile in his hands as he raised it to the target; a kraken shaped cutout a number of feet away. A spiralled target rests dead center in the middle of its forehead.

He fell into proper shooting position naturally, bringing the poor excuse of a sight to eye level as his arms locked.

‘Pop’ ‘Pop’

A jolt traveled through his body. Not because the dinky little object had any form of recoil, but because of how far he had missed the mark. The ball had barely even glanced the side of the creature, and from the look Poe had he had missed just as badly.

He shook it off, ignoring the amusement he felt coming from the two beside him and blaming it on the simple differences of the object from what he was used to. Of course it wouldn’t fire like a normal gun. Expecting the accuracy to be anything more than lacking would be stupid of him. Now that he knew just how off it was, he could adjust accordingly. Both paying for another round, the shooters were loaded and aimed in seconds. Going of where it hit last time, he raised the end a bit and brought it slightly to the right.

‘Pop’ ‘Pop’

They fired again, and again they missed.

“Oh, too bad my friends. I guess you’re not as skilled as your little dates thought you were.” The vendor taunted, sending a wink Rey’s way.

Feeling anger quickly starting to rise within him, there was no way Kylo was about to give up now. He paid another five, giving him another ball.

Then another.

And another.

Several minutes and thirty dollars later he was nowhere closer to winning, his shots, instead of coming closer, were going more and more astray from the target. With each miss his anger rose, and Poe was doing no better beside him.

“For the love of-”

“Ah ah~ Watch your language.” The vendor smirked, only making his temper worse. “There’s children around here after all. What example would you be giving them if you showed how much of a sore loser you were.”

Kylo genuinely thought he was going to hop over the booth and wipe the smug smirk from his face. A gentle hand brought his attention as Rey gently pried the shooter from his grip, a concerned smile on her face.

“Hey, let me have a shot at it.” He hesitated, not wanting her to feel the same discouragement and embarrassment he currently was. The look in her eye stopped him short. It was the same look she had whenever she was working at the shop or on his car at home. A look of utter confidence in what she was doing.

The three men stared at the two friends in astonishment as they high five, already moving on to picking out which of the stuffed creatures they wanted.ly the same position he had been in early, evidently having taken Poe’s place as well. The vendor leaned in closer, Rey clearly doing her best to ignore him as she focused on the target.

“Now sweetheart, what you’re going to want to do is-”

The familiar simultaneous pop of the ball leaving the suctioned end sounded, just as it had with his previously. Unlike their attempts however, instead of silence the pops were answered with the sound of a loud buzzer and the muted cry of the kraken as its eyes lit up red.

The three men stared at the two friends in astonishment as they high fived, already moving on to picking out which of the stuffed creatures they wanted.

“The one in the very back! He looks the softest!” Rey exclaimed, pointing. There was nothing left for the vendor to do but grumble as he grabbed the creature, along with Finn’s choice. All but tossing the animals he was quick to shoo them away, his persona turning from sour to cheerful on a dime as he lured the next group in to the nearly impossible game.

“I just don’t understand.” Poe shook his head in disbelief. Finn gave him a comforting squeeze.

“Rey and I grew up with these games every year. We’re practically professionals.”

“Yeah.” She nodded from under Kylo’s arm, which was thrown around her shoulder. “The vendors hated us. We nearly got banned the one year when we were going around seeing how many we could win before they closed.” They both laughed at the memory, leaving their boyfriends to simply shake their heads.

By now it had grown late, the group foregoing to visit any of the barns due to Poe’s hay allergy. They could always come back tomorrow. After walking the other couple to their car, they made their way back to their Rey’s ride. After pulling the helmets from under the seat, Kylo was surprised when Rey tossed the stuffed animal to him.

“Here.”

His brows furrowed questioningly as he glanced back between her and the creature.

“Are you...are you giving this to me?”

She nodded, slipping on her jacket to protect her from the wind.

“But you were so excited for it.”

“You said that you’ve never been to a fair before, so I assume that you’ve never gotten one of the ridiculously large stuffed animals from one.” She spoke, turning to him. “It’ll be a nice way to mark the occasion. Besides,” she smirked, moving to pull her helmet on. “,it's not like we don’t share a bed anyways. He’ll be there no matter what.”

With that she pulled on her helmet, tilting her head cheekily before tossing her leg over the bike. He climbed on after, his chest feeling lighter than it had all week as he wrapped his arms around her waist. The stuffed animal was sandwiched safely in between them, ready for the journey home.

There was no one more perfect for him, and he reminisced on the fact as the bike roared to life underneath him. He could already picture the stuffed animal and how ridiculous it would look in their otherwise modern styled and well kept room. Normally all the small trinkets and knick knacks Rey would bring home were restricted to her hobby room, him not being able to handle the clutter they created. This however? This would fit perfectly in their room.

She still had to be the one to name it though.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #reylo fanfic #reylo #finpo #finnpoe #poe dameron #finn x poe #kylo ren #rey x kylo ren #rey skywalker #star wars modern au #modern star wars #ben solo

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