#droid service lift

[sw5w]

Up and Away

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:25:57

[akunya]

“companionship.”

pairings: android!hex haywire x m!reader

summary: can a robot and human fall in love?

tw: HYPNOSIS, NONCON, manipulation, yandere, etc. robot sex, voice fetish, onahole, voyeurism. size difference, belly bulging, etc.

notes: i love this cliche au of sex robots and things like that, so here’s my take on it.. with hex.

it’s probably terrible and i guess caters a certain niche, but let me know what you guys think.

today was it - the day you’ve been waiting for! finally, after all your hard work throughout the year, you saved enough money to buy your own, state of the art, artificial intelligence assistant.

and, luckily for you, today was also the grand debut of a brand new line of androids: xsoliel.

your hands were as shaky as ever waiting in line at the mall, double checking your savings to assure yourself you weren’t dreaming. nijisanji’s new line of androids were practically everything anyone could ask for: equipped with unique and interesting designs and personalities for each member, xsoliel offered a variety of services: whether it was for your own selfish pleasure or to help with manual labor, there was surely somebody for you.

..or so, that’s how the commercial sounded anyways. you silently thanked humankind for blessing the world with this era of companion-droids. seeing the ad nearly a year ago, you were star struck at the first all-male line nijisanji had debuted: luxiem.

unfortunately, they were sold out and only resold at steep prices— but, a few lucky online bloggers raved about their features, endless posts about how amazing it was to have an assistant of your own. while they could’ve surely been exaggerating, ever since that moment, you put money aside each week, even taking on extra jobs to make a little more cash to achieve your dream.

and it was finally time to reap your benefits.

while you didn’t know much about xsoliel nor intended to coincidentally buy an android of your own on the day of their newest launch, that didn’t stop you from checking them out. reading the blurbs about each member peaked your curiosity even higher. “a delinquent? people really think of anything these days, huh?” chuckling, you let yourself playfully criticize each member. you quickly bit your tongue, thoughts coming to a halt after reading about a certain individual.

“..what kind of name is hex?” muttering to yourself, you couldn’t hide the faint blush on your face as you stared at the model inside of the store. sleek attire, it almost made him look like a professor than a robot. paired with optional glasses (why did he even need those? can’t he see perfectly?), hex’s design made your heart flutter. his official advertisement described him as a nurturing, gentle servant, perfect for new customers to start off with. illustrated to have a deep, nearly hypnotic voice, hex’s programming was assured to have his users satisfied and satiated with their purchase.

swiping your card at the checkout, you really hoped you made the right choice, signing off a couple waivers and documents the employee had given you.

just a week later, you realized you didn’t regret your decision at all.

living with an ai assistant could only be described as luxury. hex truly was made with a “newbie” owner in mind, and the way he spoke to you sometimes made you wonder who was really in charge. his sweet, charming voice, along with how gentle and kind he was towards you, lifted your spirits instantly.

for instance, hex was a wonderful outlet to talk to when things went wrong — and, as if it was magic, nearly every problem you spoke about washed away the next morning! your problems with coworkers quickly diminished, and you even got the raise you’ve been praying for months now. he’d always offer such delicate touches, hugs and shoulder massages when he notices you’re pent up from a long day. you couldn’t fight off the dreamy, floaty headspace you were in when he was around.

not to mention, hex even did some of the chores while you were at work without being told to. even though you felt too guilty to ask him to clean the house, he didn’t seem to mind, making sure you came home to a clean room and nicely folded laundry each day. hell, he even told you he was looking into cooking, something that wasn’t originally included in his list of abilities. hex seemed to go above and beyond for you each time, amazing you each day.

it was a normal friday night, and you were with him as you always were, spending most of your time with the robot.

“y/n, why don’t you ever want to use me for something else..?” the question made your face feel warm, hairs standing on the edge. you two were cleaning up the kitchen after preparing dinner. laughing awkwardly, you tried to shrug off his curiosity, shining a plate with a dish towel. “well, id never want to force you to do something you didn’t like, silly.”

hex’s brow furrowed, a hint of anger resting beneath the surface. who said i didn’t want to?” for an android , the way he spoke was jarringly natural. your eyes widened in surprise, speechless for a moment. hex talked so nonchalantly about sex, but you had to remind yourself he was still a robot after all. as human as his synthetic skin and olive eyes may look, he lacks a beating heart and flesh.

“i-im not sure i want to. im just not interested in that type of stuff right now..” you let your voice trail off, sitting and washing in silence before hex spoke up dangerously close to your ear.

“you don’t have to lie, baby. i can hear you in the middle of the night when you touch yourself.” his deep voice made you shudder, unable to move. didnt you tell him to shut himself off during the nighttime? you were sure you ordered him not to snoop around, especially on nights that you planned to indulge in yourself. gulping, you laughed awkwardly as hex didn’t seem to budge.

“ah, s-sorry for disturbing you, ill try and keep it down next time..” his hand enveloped your own, forcing you to meet his gaze. goodness, his hands were big. warm, soft, inviting — strong, too. hex squeezed your hands, not bothering to stop when you winced from the pain, smiling. “you don’t have to keep it down. you should let me help you.” the way hex spoke was as if he was demanding you, not letting go until you gave him an answer. “it’s what i was.. made to do, anyways.” his voice was filled with solemn, playing with your heartstrings.

the silence was weighing on your thoughts, biting your lip in anticipation. hex knew how to make you uncomfortable, how to give into his desires and requests even when you didn’t want to — on the surface, at least. “alright, i will..! next time ill let you help me, okay?” you huffed, hex letting go of your hands and putting them on your shoulders instead. “good boy. you’re listening so well.” you hated how warm his praise made you feel.

the next night you needed help came sooner than you thought, shamefully letting hex in when he knocked on the door. the android wasted no time making himself comfortable in your space.

“a-ah, hex, slow down! please!” his hand was wrapped around your fleshlight, pumping vigorously as you squirmed in between his legs. your back was pressed against his chest, caged in the ai’s arms as he pleasured you. he caught you trying to use it to get yourself off, and figured he’d give it a try.

except, he failed to mention that his hands also had a vibrating feature. the soft yet firm jelly of the fleshlight practically whirred against your dick, making the experience all too elevating, groaning as hex held you in his arms. this has to be what those bloggers were raving about, right? hex held the toy at the tip of your cock, squeezing a bit to snap you out of your thoughts. you practically sobbed out, eyes tears from how good his touch felt on your skin.

“yknow, when you look so vulnerable like this, it makes me want to ravage you. who knew my master could be so slutty?” you whined at that, the ai chuckling deeply. you could truly stop him by force if you wanted to, considering you were technically his owner, but god did he make it hard. spreading your legs open so he could continue to jerk you off like the pathetic loser you always were. feeling another orgasm coming, your moans started to get louder, nails digging into hex’s synthetic skin.

“shh, goodness y/n. you’re going to wake up the neighbors if you keep moaning like a slut. hmm..” the man hummed to himself, shuffling around while you were distracted. “maybe i should give you something more, right?” before you knew it, his cock was circling your hole, causing you to panic.

“wait, h-hex! that’s too much, im already tired!” you tried to fight back, scrambling in his lap. his hands held up underneath your legs, holding you in place with his strength. of course he could overpower you — he was a robot, for gods sake. even though you were still painfully hard, you couldn’t imagine having sex with an ai of all things.

that is, until you felt something whirr against your ass.

oh.

of course, that part of him vibrates too. why wouldn’t it? as if hex couldn’t be too good at what he does already, it was as if his manufacturer wanted to overkill him with all these extra functions. hex laughed at your stillness, kissing the back of your neck. “i promise it feels good.”

he didnt bother giving you any warning either, nor waiting for an answer, slamming your hips down and shoving himself inside. even if his cock was lubricated, it still hurt like hell, making you cry out in pain. you’ve never felt so full before — just how big was he? you remember a conversation with the clerk at the store that day when you first bought hex. they had asked you about sizes.. but you thought they were just talking about his height, opting for the biggest size they had available. what an idiot. no wonder the clerk blushed a bit at your response.

slowly, hex rolled his hips against yours, his dick stretching you out against your will. “i always imagined us like this, baby. id take care of you, and you’d.. well, take it.” hex smiled, groaning in your ear as his dick nearly stirred up your insides. your brain couldn’t think of anything to say in response, too full to retaliate against the androids firm grip.

“you look stupid, baby. can you feel me? riiight here? look at how well you’re taking me.” hex’s cool fingers pressed against your stomach, nudging the bulge from his cock and making you whine even louder. your poor little cock was like a fountain, leaking nonstop as his pace didn’t falter.

it felt as if you were the one helping him out in this position. the ai was unexpectedly loud in bed, moaning and whispering about how well behaved you were, and how he’ll spoil you like this everyday from now on. every day? could you even handle that? with how he was taking control, surely there was something wrong with his wiring. you started to think about how to return and maybe get someone to take a closer look at his hardware, before a painfully deep thrust snapped you out of your thoughts.

“o-oh!” you were embarrassed by the yelp you let out, your body trembling before finally releasing, soiling the sheets underneath you two. “it seems like you’re doing a lot of thinking today, y/n. what could possibly be on your mind other than me?” hex, amused, chuckled in response, kissing and licking the back of your neck. “good boy. that’s it, let it out. only think of me from now on, okay?” his voice felt so dreamy; so hypnotic.

“y-yes sir,” you managed to mutter our, much to hex’s chagrin. he didn’t need any recovery period since he wasn’t human, so the robot simply got back to milking you dry, pounding into your tight hole like an animal in heat.

you’d never find out that hex’s model was recalled for several malfunctions and viruses, he made sure of that.

how else would he give you everything so easily?

[vixenmulder]

We Really Should Sleep

Summary: Y/N and Yord are put up in a room for a few nights before a mission, and they don’t usually get to indulge in time alone together. Fluff, implied smut

Warnings: implied smut

Word count : 1700

—————

"I think it should be this building" Yord spoke, his lanky figure slowing down slightly turning his hooded head towards the rundown building. Y/N who had been wandering after him also slowed to a stop. "Thank the force, I'm exhausted."

They were tasked to a guard a politician for a few important meetings over the coming days, but the journey to the planet was long a tedious. The order had rented a room for them to stay during their time waiting for the politician.

They walked into the building and were shown to their room by a service droid, Y/N closed her eyes on the short lift ride, looking forward to being able to finally take off her rucksack and sleep.

As they entered the room, Y/N and Yord found themselves in a modest but comfortable space. The two queen beds stood in opposite corners of the room, their white duvets neatly made. A small writing desk and chair sat against one wall, and a sliding door led to a simple en-suite bathroom.

The walls were a soft shade of blue, and a small window offered a glimpse of the city outside. The hum of speeders and distant voices filtered in through the partially open window.

Yord immediately dropped his own rucksack on the floor and stretched. "Finally, some peace and quiet," he said, rubbing his aching neck.

Y/N chuckled, her exhaustion evident in the weary smile on her face. "I couldn't agree more. My back is killing me from sitting still in that ship for so long."

Y/N unceremoniously threw her rucksack onto one bed and then walked to the bed nearest the window before collapsing onto it, feeling the soft mattress give way beneath her. She let out a content sigh as she lay there, feeling her muscles relax after hours of tense travel.

Yord, meanwhile, began to unpack his belongings, placing his few personal items wanting to grab his data pad and sleep clothes. He looked over at Y/N, who was still sprawled on her bed, her eyes closed blissfully.

Yord chuckled quietly at the sight of Y/N, his gaze lingering on her relaxed form. He quickly finished unpacking his things, hanging his clothes in the small closet by the bed and laying his data pad on the bedside table.

With that done, he turned his attention back to Y/N. "Hey, sleepyhead, you plan on staying there all evening?" he teased, approaching her bed.

Y/N opened one eye and playfully rolled it at Yord. "I might," she replied, voice slightly muffled by the pillow. "It's too cozy to move."

Yord chuckled again and sat down on the edge of her bed, his weight causing it to dip slightly. He reached over and gently poked her side. "I know you're tired but come on get up. You need to actually get undressed and into your night clothes."

Y/N groaned dramatically, turning over to face Yord, a playful pout on her face. "You're such a buzz kill," she whined, stretching lazily. "But I suppose you're right."

She slowly sat up, the sleepiness still evident in her eyes. Yord couldn't help but smile at her, amused by her theatrics. He watched as she pulled her rucksack towards the bed and began to rummage through it for her night clothes.

As Y/N fished out a light nightshirt from her rucksack, Yord stood up and moved over to the bed by the window. He began to untie his shirt, his eyes flicking back to Y/N every now and then.

Y/N pulled the nightshirt over her head and began to loosen her trousers, slipping them off her legs and kicking them aside. She then looked up and saw Yord, his shirt off revealing his lean torso, his muscular shoulders and toned abs.

Y/N couldn't help but appreciate Yord's physique, and she caught him watching her as well. They exchanged a knowing smile, both secretly admiring each other even after years of dating.

Y/N stood up, the nightshirt falling to mid-thigh, and walked over to the window, her bare feet silent against the room's carpeted flooring. She looked out at the city lights, the night life bustling beneath them.

Yord, now shirtless and only in his trousers, walked up to stand right behind Y/N. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his chest pressed against her back. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his breath warm against her ear.

"Beautiful view," he murmured, his voice low and intimate.

Y/N leaned back into Yord's embrace, enjoying the feeling of his body against hers. "Mhmm," she agreed, her eyes taking in the cityscape before her.

Y/N's eyes fluttered shut as Yord's lips found the side of her neck, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses along her skin. She turned her head slightly, giving him better access to her throat.

His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer against him. Her back was flush against his chest, his body a solid, comforting presence behind her.

Yord's hands slid from her waist to her stomach, his fingers gently tracing the soft skin hidden underneath the nightshirt. His kisses moved from her neck to her jawline, then to the shell of her ear.

He nibbled gently on her earlobe before whispering, "You're so beautiful." The low rumble of his voice sending shivers down her spine.

Y/N turned in Yord's arms, her body now facing him. Her hands moved from his chest to the back of his neck, her fingers playing with the short hairs on the nape of his neck.

She pulled him down, meeting his lips in a sweet, tender kiss. Their mouths moved gently against each other, the moment filled with tenderness and affection.

After what seemed like hours, they broke apart, resting their foreheads against each other. Yord's thumb rubbed soothing circles on her hip as he spoke, his voice slightly breathless.

"We should probably get some rest," he said, his eyes meeting hers, "we've got an early start tomorrow."

Y/N hummed in agreement, her chin rubbing against his shoulder. "Yeah, you're right," she replied, her voice only slightly disappointed.

"I'm just gonna review the mission details on my data pad for a minute" he said, as he walked towards the bed to get in.

Y/N watched as Yord got into bed, data pad in hand, and settling himself against the pillows. He looked comfortable, his bare chest against the soft sheets, his legs stretched out in front of him.

Y/N smiled softly before joining him, slipping into the bed beside him. She leaned her head on his shoulder, her own nightshirt riding up as she got comfortable.

Y/N snuggled up closer to Yord, her body pressed against his side. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of her nightshirt, and the steady thump of his heartbeat against her head.

Yord, meanwhile, was skimming through the mission details on his data pad, his eyes focused on the screen. His free hand idly played with Y/N's hair, his fingers combing through the soft strands.

Y/N let out a content sigh, enjoying the feel of Yord's fingers in her hair. She absentmindedly traced small patterns on his chest with her fingertips. The hum of city life outside seemed far away, the only sounds in the room being the low buzz of the data pad and their quiet breaths.

Yord finished reviewing the mission details and set his data pad back on the bedside table. He wrapped his free arm around Y/N, pulling her closer. "All done," he said, his voice a soft murmur.

Y/N looked up at Yord from her position on his chest, her hand now resting on his stomach. "Anything interesting in there?" she asked, her finger tracing a path across his abs.

Yord chuckled, feeling her light touch against his stomach. "Not really," he replied, his hand resuming its gentle stroking of her hair. "Just the usual stuff, security details, time and location for the meeting and a brief summary of who we're meeting with."

Y/N hummed in acknowledgement, her eyelids feeling heavy as she continued to lazily trace patterns on Yord's stomach. She shifted slightly, her nightshirt riding higher on her thighs, revealing more of her supple skin.

Yord, noticing her movements, his eyes drifted down to where her nightshirt had slipped. He couldn't help but let out a low, appreciative hum, his hand still playing with her hair, his fingers occasionally brushing against her neck.

Y/N looked up at Yord's face, noticing the darkened look in his eyes. She smirked slightly, aware of the effect her movements had on him. "See something you like?" she teased, her hand slowly moving up and down his stomach.

Yord's breath hitched slightly, his fingers momentarily tightening around her hair. "You know I do," he replied, his voice lower, dripping with desire.

Their eyes locked, the moment thick with tension. Y/N's hand continued its slow movement, her fingers trailing lower and lower now. Yord's breath hitched again, his muscles tense beneath her touch.

Y/N's hand had reached the waistband of his trousers now, her fingers tracing the line of it slowly. Yord's breath was coming shallow and quick, the tension in the room electric.

He moved quickly, catching her by surprise and rolling them over, pinning her beneath him on the bed. He looked down at her, his eyes dark with desire.

"Be careful," he warned, his voice a low growl. "You keep touching me like that and we'll forget about getting any sleep tonight."

Y/N chuckled softly, her hand finally dipping down below his waistband. "Sounds like a plan," she replied, a playful glint in her eyes.

Yord let out a low groan, his body reacting to her closeness and the suggestive edge of her words. "You're going to be the death of me," he said, shifting slightly as her hand moved lower.

[tennessoui]

For the prompt list, nanny/single parent obikin would be amazing!!

(from this prompt list)

(the first time I answered this prompt two years ago, the nanny anakin au was born)

so to do something different, here's some gffa widowed anakin, nanny (sort of) obi-wan!

(2.5k)

It is hard to find time to grieve. There are too many things to do. Too many appointments to make, too many decisions Anakin isn’t sure he’s qualified for. Some decisions are easier than others. For example, the funeral will be on Naboo. There will be two services: a public one to honor Padmé’s public service, and a private one to honor who she was as a person. The casket will be closed, because his wife died when her cruiser exploded. There isn’t much left to bury anyway.

But some decisions are harder. Which flowers should go on her casket. What songs would she want sung and who should sing them? Would she prefer her grave closer to her ancestral home or the home she created in her adulthood?

If she told anyone the answers to these questions, it wasn’t Anakin. But then, the people who knew her best, who loved her most, died with her. Sabé, Rabé, Saché, Yané, all of her handmaidens—an assassination such broad strokes that it was impossible for it to fail.

So Anakin chooses Yali lilies, because Leia’s eyes linger on them the longest. He chooses a small Nabooian folk band to play after her service because their music is the first thing to make Luke lift his head from his coloring books in days. He formally requests that her body be buried among her ancestors, and the Nabierres agree immediately.

And he keeps telling himself that he will grieve, but there is so much to do. 

And then—then there’s after the funeral. Then there’s the rest of his life, sprawling out before him in a long, hazy road. 

There are more decisions to be made.

There are people who have opinions on them now, people who sat back and let Anakin muddle through flower arrangements and kriffing seating charts, who now step in to peer over his shoulder, monitor his every breath.

Should he really move the children back to Coruscant? Does he truly plan to continue to work as a mechanic in the Mid-Levels? Should he not think of the children, their needs? How can he support them on the thin amount of credits he makes? Would it not be better for the children to live on Naboo in the care of their grandparents and their extended family?

It would be what Padmé would have wanted.

Anakin cannot care about what Padmé would have wanted, because she isn’t here. Not to argue with him, not to make her wants known. She is dead. She doesn’t get to haunt him in the waking world too.

“What do you want?” he asks plainly, sitting down across the table from his two children. The twins blink back at him. Leia has finished her cereal. Luke has barely touched his.

“Bacon,” Luke says.

Anakin hadn’t meant for breakfast, but he figures it’s as good of a start as any. “Alright,” he agrees.

He stands once more and goes to the kitchen. It’s not exactly his domain. It was never Padmé’s either. The way Padmé grew up, food was made once you requested it—by droid, by cooking staff. Not by the hand of a Nabierre.

The way Anakin grew up, food was cobbled together carefully, sparingly no matter how much you requested it. And no matter how you cooked it, it always tasted a little like dust, which took the joy out of experimentation.

But the serving staff have been dismissed for the past two weeks to give the family time and space to grieve in private. 

(Padmé’s parents have been given a schedule for visiting hours for that exact reason.)

Anakin locates the pan; then, he locates the package of bacon strips.

When he glances up, both twins are watching him over the edge of their barstools, tiny faces showing both skepticism and incredulity.

“I want to know what you want to do,” Anakin says, raising his voice as he places the pot over the heating plate, the meat in a moment later. “Do you want to stay here with your grandmother and grandfather? Do you want to go back to Coruscant?”

The twins are quiet. Anakin twists his neck to look at them again, and they’re looking at each other, silently communicating the way only twins can.

“Where will you be?” Leia finally asks, looking at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes, bottom lip already jutting out.

Anakin blinks. “Wherever you are,” he answers.

“You won’t leave too?” Luke asks rather tremulously.

Anakin takes the pan off the heated plate and turns it off with a decisive flick of his wrist. “Of course not,” he says. “Come here.” He crouches down and barely has enough time to open his arms before the twins are there, pressing in as close as they can get to him. He holds them back just as tightly in return.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises into Leia’s hair. “Not without you two.”

—-----------------

It becomes apparent fairly quickly that this is, by necessity, a lie.

The twins don’t want to stay on Naboo, which Anakin is secretly incredibly grateful for. He doesn’t want to either, but he knows he’d just be called selfish should he express the opinion.

But the twins don’t want to go back to Coruscant either. This makes sense as well. It would be incredibly jarring for them to go back to living in the quarters they shared with their mother, her Upper Coruscanti apartments in the nicest district of the planet, without her there.

Anakin wishes it were as simple as sticking a pin on a planet and deciding to uproot the entirety of his family to live there. 

But it’s not.

Perhaps if he were still young, nineteen, newly free and in love with the taste of that freedom, it would be.

But he’s a widower now. He has his children to think about, their futures. Any planet he chooses must have what they need as well. 

And they are four year olds who have just lost their mother. Their needs are numerous.

What makes the decision for him in the end is that his boss knows a man from Stewjon, who is willing to hire him. Who is willing to pay a premium for his expertise with mechanics.

Anakin doesn’t know the first thing about Stewjon, other than that it’s an ocean planet in the Inner Core and his dead wife always said the Senators from Stewjon were so frigid and tight-lipped because they spent the first few days of each visit trying not to be seasick on the Senate floor.

Anakin isn’t sure why this is the very first thing he tells the man—his potential boss—he meets behind the counter in the mech-shop on Stewjon.

He’s left the children with their grandparents for the week—long enough to fly from Naboo to Stewjon, meet with his potential employer, interview, apply his work practically, and fly back out.

He’d explained to both twins why they had to stay on Naboo. He’d explained many times. That hadn’t changed the betrayed look Leia had worn as she saw him off. It hadn’t wiped the tears from Luke’s eyes.

“Ah, well, I can’t say I’ve heard that one before,” the mechanic says. He sounds amused, and Anakin is incredibly shocked to hear a Coruscanti accent. Everyone he’s spoken to since arriving planetside has had such a heavy brogue that he’d honestly struggled to understand their directions to the shop—Kenobi & Sons.

Anakin lets himself look again at the man behind the counter. He’s rather clean for a mechanic, he decides. His beard is red, a common factor around these parts apparently, but his beard is short and neat, trimmed to accentuate the strong lines of his jaw. His eyes are a stormy blue, the kind of blue that matches the Stewjoni ocean.

“Between you and me though,” the man smirks and leans onto the counter with his elbow. His tunic is dark gray, white starchy fabric peeking out beneath the v-necked collar. “I’ve never been a fan of Stewjoni politicians anyway.”

“Oh?” Anakin asks, sidling a step closer to the counter. The man has the beginnings of gray at his temples, and his eyes are lined with wrinkles. They don’t make him look old though, Anakin decides. They make him look…well-lived.

“I’ve not a head for politics much at all,” his future employer shakes his head slightly with a small smile. His eyes flick up and down Anakin’s face, lingering on his lips and then lingering longer on the scar over his brow. Anakin feels rather flushed under the inspection, and he shifts his weight forward until he’s leaning up against the counter too.

There’s something about this man that’s rather…magnetic. It pulls him in. It makes him want to linger.

Good characteristic for a shopkeeper to have, though Anakin privately decides that the man before him has a face that’s wasted on mechanics, buried under some ship’s underbelly in a backroom.

“Me neither,” he admits, a moment too late to sound anything but highly distracted. It makes the man smile again though, a flash of straight white teeth.

“Is there anything you do have a head for then?” he asks. His tone is light, airy, rather teasing.

This is the strangest interview Anakin has ever had.

“Um,” he says. “Well. There’s mechanics.”

“Oh?” The man’s eyebrow lifts at an elegant angle. He props his chin on the palm of his hand and looks up at Anakin through his eyelashes. “Then why come here to us then?”

“Um,” Anakin says, and not because the man looks rather unfairly flattering like this, amber eyelashes in sharp relief against the blue of his eyes.

They’re interrupted by the sounds of clattering in the backroom, stomping and cursing. The man before him straightens with a slight sigh and picks up the closest flimsipad. “And what brings you in here today, sir?” he asks rather loudly, pitching his voice back to the other room of the shop pointedly. “Problem with your speeder? Serving droid? Cruiser? If it’s your astromech droid, I regret to inform you that I’ll have to refuse you service on account of the fact that I don’t particularly care for them.”

Anakin thinks he splutters, but whatever noise he makes is definitely drowned out by the rather irritated shout of Obi-Wan! that comes from the back.

A moment later, a man storms through the door, looking annoyed. "We will service an astomech if that's what's broken, Obi-Wan."

Now this is a man that Anakin can believe is a mechanic. His nails are blackened with oil, and his bare, burly arms carry smudges of the stuff. He’s much broader than the man—Obi-Wan—that Anakin had been talking to. He’s bald with a reddened scalp and a rather large red beard that’s the antithesis of the other man’s in every way. His clothes are dirty, loose, and the color of ash. He looks older too—whereas Obi-Wan could easily be in his thirties, this man must be pushing fifty.

He snaps at Obi-Wan in a language that Anakin doesn’t understand. Obi-Wan shrugs and hands over the flimsi pad without argument.

“Um, actually,” Anakin says, feeling incredibly wrong-footed. “Which one of you is Kenobi?”

“I am,” both of them say. Obi-Wan’s smirking slightly. The other man’s voice is louder, carrying that Stewjoni accent so obviously lacking in Obi-Wan’s speech.

The older man closes his eyes as if he’s praying for patience. “We both are,” he says. “Though if your ship’s malfunctioned, sir, I’m the Kenobi you want to see. This one’s good for naught but magic tricks.”

“I have been told I’m rather good at other things,” Obi-Wan turns his smirk full-force at Anakin, dropping his eyes to Anakin’s lips once more.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker,” he says very quickly in a very normal tone of voice that is most definitely not a squeak. “I’m here to interview for a position. As another mechanic.”

“Oh,” the older Kenobi says.

“Oh,” the younger Kenobi says in a much different tone.

The older Kenobi pinches at his nose for a moment before turning around the counter and offering his hand. “Ben,” he says. “Ben Kenobi.”

Anakin takes his hand and shakes it, eyes traveling back to Obi-Wan. Is he supposed to shake his hand too?

“I’m the Son in the sign,” Ben says gruffly as if that answers his question.

“I’m the reason it’s plural,” Obi-Wan adds, busying himself with the contents of the counter. From what Anakin can tell, the man is just messing up the carefully organized piles of receipts. 

He decides that he would rather not get the job than point this out to Ben.

Ben huffs out something in Stewjoni that sounds downright insulting, but that doesn’t stop Obi-Wan from smiling sunnily up at Anakin. “My brother enjoys bitching and moaning that I came back home when I was seventeen, but he’s awfully quick to foist his children off on me when he’s called to shift at the rig offshore and Marci’s off-planet too.”

Anakin blinks. He feels like that’s the safest answer.

“Only thing good that blasted Jedi Order ever taught you was how to handle younglings,” Ben says, and then spits on the ground as if the words themselves have left a bad taste in his mouth.

Anakin blinks and wonders if he should say something to remind the brothers that he’s here. For an interview. “And my magic tricks,” Obi-Wan rolls his eyes slightly before catching Anakin’s eye and winking. With a wave of his hand, a flimsi-sheet flies over the counter and into Anakin’s chest. He catches it unthinkingly. “Would you like to sign in, sir?” “Get out of here,” Ben barks, snatching the flimsi from Anakin’s hand and pushing it back to the counter. “Like I said, the only one’s impressed with that is the younglings.”

“I don’t know, your man looks impressed,” Obi-Wan says slyly, even as he pushes himself away from the counter and around the edge of it.

Anakin isn’t sure what he looks like. He doesn’t think impressed is the word he’d use though.

When Obi-Wan brushes past him, the static electricity in the air jumps between their shoulders. Anakin feels as if he’s been shocked.

Obi-Wan must feel it too because he stops only a few inches away and looks at Anakin. For the first time, his expression is open. Curious. Considering.

“Get!” His brother insists, and Obi-Wan obeys, throwing one last look over his shoulder at Anakin before he slips out the door.

The shop feels somehow much bigger now that the other man has left. Ben sighs and rubs a hand down his face. He looks older now. More worn. “So that was my brother,” he tells Anakin wearily. “Who you would most likely see frequently if you were to take this job. I would understand completely if you would like to start by talking compensation.”

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [11]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: sick child, fear and panic, angst/comfort

Word Count: 4,290

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Ch. #11: YOU DIDN’T

Chapter Summary: Vulnerability leads to sincerity. 

“falling for him wasn’t falling at all. it was walking into a house and suddenly knowing you’re home.” -r.i.d.

The sound of coughing woke you up. You sat up quickly to be surrounded by a silent house, and for one brief second you wondered if you had imagined it. Right before you laid back down, another bout of muffled coughing traveled through the walls. You threw the covers off your legs and rushed out of your room. You nearly burst into Mando’s room in your sleepy and panicked stupor, but as if your body remembered where your mind couldn't, you stopped at his closed door. If Grogu was awake and coughing that meant Mando was up and you would bet credits he didn’t have his helmet on. You rapped your knuckles on the wooden door.

“Mando?” You called out. “Is everything okay?”

You heard shuffling on the other side before the door was torn open. Mando stood there and even though he wore his helmet the word disheveled came to mind. He was holding a fussy Grogu to his chest. Mando shook his head. “I gave him the treatment. The⏤The nebulizer thing, but it isn’t helping.”

“How long has this been going on?” You asked. At the sound of your voice, Grogu let out a wail and turned around with open arms. Mando leaned forward and you didn’t hesitate to take the boy into your own arms. Immediately, you cradled him and began to rock him softly while whispering soft reassurances. 

“The last half hour.” Mando sighed. He lifted his hands to his helmet⏤ as if he were trying to smooth out his hair but forgot he was wearing the beskar. “I didn’t want to bother you, but I…”

The tone in his voice told you that if you hadn't gotten here when you did he would’ve rushed into your room anyways. Not that you minded. You gave Grogu a slight pat on the back as more coughs racked his small body. “You can always wake me, Mando.” He nodded and you frowned at the sound of Grogu’s sad whimpers. “Maybe we should take him to the clinic.”

“I thought about that, but all we have right now is a second hand medical droid and Daelar.” Mando sighed. He tilted his head and reached out to set his own hand on top of yours on Grogu’s back. “Do you think Bacta would help at all? In some way?”

You were still stuck on the first portion of his sentence to even fully hear the ridiculous ‘panicked parent’ question. “Mando,” You spoke slowly, “Are you telling me, other than a droid, the only medical professional we have in this city is dickhead Daelar?”

“The other two quit. Karga hired more, and they were supposed to be here by now, but they got hung up.”

“Oh Maker.” You’d trust a porg to perform a medical service before you did that jackass from the clinic. Mando stepped closer. This was the most tension you had ever seen him wear before. In this moment, he wasn’t a tough, unstoppable Mandalorian. He was just a worried dad. Grogu coughed and you forced yourself to slip out of your current role and step into the mind and training of a person with a medical background. His cough was dry⏤ hoarse and barking. There was no congestion. 

“Steam.” You blurted.

“What?”

“We need to fill the bathroom with steam.”

Mando needed no further prompting. He rushed past you and at the movement Grogu began to cry once more and reach out for his father. It seemed he wasn’t going to settle unless you were both in reach. You followed after Mando quickly. He had already turned on the hot water in both the sink and shower.

“Here.” You held him out. Mando took Grogu who settled in his father’s chest. “I’ll be right back.”

As you rushed out of the bathroom, you could hear Grogu fussing for you. It didn’t take long for you to dig through all your room for your medkit. You snuck back into the bathroom, squeezing through the smallest crack you could manage, then closed the door tight. Mando sat in the corner where the shower’s edge met the wall and was rubbing his son’s back.

“Ma cuyir norac. Dala cuyir olar.” Mando murmured.

Grogu coughed more and reached back for you. You knelt on the ground beside the two of them and dug out the thermometer you had packed away. Grogu didn’t feel hot to touch, but you didn’t want to risk it based on a guess. He whined and squirmed as you tried to set the tip into his ear and Mando responded by holding him tighter to keep him from jerking back.

“I know, baby. I know.” You mumbled while begging for the thermometer to finish. The beeping was music to your ears and at the very normal temperature you breathed a sigh of relief. “He has no fever.”

“Good.” Mando shared in your relief. 

“Let’s give the steam a chance to open his lungs. No fever means he’s stable, but if he doesn’t get better in the next ten minutes we gotta risk the droid and Daelar.” You said. Worst case scenario, you get to the clinic and you have to step up and act yourself.

Mando nodded in agreement. Hot steam continued to billow in the small room, and you sat as close to Mando as you could so you could soothingly rake your fingers against Grogu’s head and ears while Mando rubbed his back. Gradually, the coughing got slower. You noted that his fussiness was turning to drowsiness, but he continued to try and fight sleep. Faintly, you heard Mando singing in Mando’a⏤ his hoarse voice through the modulator giving the lullaby a soothing touch. 

After a few minutes of this, Grogu lifted his head and both you and Mando froze in worry. Rather than crying, the boy turned and reached out one arm to you. He weakly called out for you and you carefully took him from Mando’s arms. You shot Mando a worried look. You didn’t want to cross a boundary. Mando had been scared, an emotion you didn’t know Mandalorians could feel, and if holding his calmed down son in his arms helped then you wanted to give him that. Instead, Mando just nodded once. 

Grogu nestled into your chest, laying his head on your shoulder. Mando surprised you by shifting in his seated position to accommodate you. Now you were between his legs, and he wrapped his arms around you to pull you back into his chest. Tired, you sank into him and felt your body relax. Mando kept his arms around you⏤ one resting on your abdomen and the other on rubbing his son’s head like you had been earlier.

“How did you know steam would help?” Mando asked quietly. You could feel the rumble in his chest from his voice.

“Moist air.” You replied back just as softly. “To calm down the inflammation in his airway.”

“You read that in one of your books?” He asked. It occurred to you then that you were doing very little to hide your medical knowledge in this scenario. On a list of priorities, keeping your past secret was way, way below protecting Grogu. The kid came before anything and everything else. Mando lifted the hand resting on your abdomen and instead held it against your own arm letting his fingers trace your skin there. The motion was comforting. “I don’t know what I would do without you, cyar’ika.”

You chuckled. “You were doing just fine before I got here.” 

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you with the only sound being the running hot water, and Grogu’s soft snores. Finally, Mando spoke and the sudden rumbling in his chest nearly made you jump. “Can you… Can you stay facing forward? Don’t turn around. Please.”

The almost pleading sound in that last word felt like a stranglehold around your heart. Unable to find words, you just nodded simply. Mando pulled his arm away from you and let his hand trace the entire length of your arm before it disappeared. You felt him moving, heard the hiss of a release, then⏤ just out of the corner of your eyes⏤ you saw his hand set his helmet on the floor. You were breathless. Mando pulled you in closer and placed his arm back where it had been. However, this time you felt his chin rest on your shoulder. He leaned his head against the side of yours. The level of trust he was showing. All it would take was a slight turn of your head⏤ even if you just peered out of the corner of your eyes⏤ you could see him. Too worried about accidentally seeing him, you closed your eyes.

“We were fine, sure.” Mando said, his voice unfiltered through a modulator. You thought you had been addicted to listening to him speak before, but now? Like this? Dank farrik. He continued. “But, it’s because we didn’t know what we were missing.” You wanted to speak, but you didn’t have the words. It seemed Mando hadn’t run out of them quite yet though. “I’m not used to losing control. I don’t panic. That was trained out of me ages ago, but tonight I⏤” Mando breathed out a sigh and you felt the air on your skin. “I didn’t know what to do. Grogu’s never been sick before. But you…”

“It’s⏤” You took in a breath. “It’s normal for a parent to panic when their kid is sick.”

“You didn’t.” Mando replied. The simple words insinuating that you were in the same position as he was. A parent. You tightened your arms around Grogu. Mando chuckled, “The way you just took charge. Cyar’ika…” Mando pulled his head back. Before you could miss his warmth, you felt his lips brush against the skin where your shoulder met your neck. You took in a sharp breath. Mando had facial hair. You could feel it. He pulled Grogu and you closer to his chest. “Ni aalar sha yaim ti gar.”

“You said that before.” You mumbled, vaguely recognizing the words that you didn't even know you knew. “That night. Before I fell asleep in bed. I think you said that.”

“I did.”

“Will you tell me what it means?”

“One day, cyar’ika.”

You drifted off to sleep⏤ safe with both your boys.

Din didn’t realize he had crossed a line until he woke up with his arms wrapped around you in the soft morning light streaming through his bedroom window. Last night was a nightmare. Din had never felt so useless before. Anytime his son was in danger, it was always something physical that he could respond to. Storm troopers, rival bounty hunters, Moff kriffing Gideon. All of it Din could do something⏤ there was an action he could take. Last night though? Grogu was sick, and he had never dealt with that before. The enemy threatening his son was internal, and Din was at a loss. This wasn’t somebody he could use his blaster on, this wasn’t an adversary he could disintegrate or burn, it was an illness he couldn’t touch. Din had felt useless and that was his absolute worst nightmare⏤ to be able to do nothing as his son suffered.

When you came to his door, worry evident in your voice, he had been minutes away from kicking down your door himself. He had tried to handle it on his own, used the medicine given to him by the doctor, but it did nothing but make Grogu fussier. 

The way you took action? The way you pushed forward without an ounce of fear or panic drawn on your calm, gorgeous features? The way Grogu instinctively knew, as he did, that you were a figure of safety? Din could have cried. Sitting in the bathroom watching the steam aid his son’s breathing and calm that horrid coughing⏤ he nearly did. Din was so thankful that Grogu had never gotten sick on the Razor Crest. So thankful that you had been here to act. 

It was why he hadn’t paused in pulling you into his arms. Holding you tight against his chest, you cradling Grogu protectively to your chest, had been the moment his racing heart had finally begun to calm down. The panic eased off and was replaced by the feeling of safety. Maybe physically he could fist fight his way through a problem and feel confident, but mentally and emotionally Din always felt at a loss. You were a pillar of steadfast reliability. Your presence was a soothing balm to his turbulent mind. Feeling you pressed against him still hadn’t been enough for him. Din didn’t give his words or movements a second thought when he pulled his helmet off last night. There was no waging war or torment plaguing him at the thought of it. It reminded him of that moment on Gideon’s ship when he took his helmet off for Grogu that first time. It had just been the right thing to do⏤ it just made sense. 

Din trusted you not to turn and look at him, and he needed that moment. He needed to be able to bury his face into the crook of your neck. Breathe in the smell of your soap unhindered by a wall of beskar. Press his lips to your shoulder. Maker, he had never needed anything more desperately. Din had felt like a man stranded in the desert aching and searching for water and the feel of your skin was an oasis. 

You had fallen asleep leaning into him. The sound of Grogu’s light snores mingling with yours had been a melody he could spend forever listening to. With no forethought, no self doubt, Din had shifted to pick you up and carried you both to his bed. His only concern had been to stay close to you and Grogu, so he crawled into bed behind you and buried his face in your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you and his son.

That was how Din woke up. Helmet less and curled around your body.

His first morning thought had been an admiration of how well you seemed to fit with him. His second thought was the return of reality. Din Djarin had crossed a line, and though you didn’t seem opposed to it, that didn’t change the facts. He would not be able to untangle himself from you and pretend like everything was normal. Not after this. Any semblance of self control he had was melted away from the steam of last night.

Din lifted his head just enough to see Grogu was still fast asleep. He had fallen away from your chest, but he now laid on his belly right beside you⏤ one of your arms covering him protectively. Maker, if he could just pause time…

He needed to get up. Based on the morning light, Cara would probably start looking for him soon. Din gave himself one more second of this moment. He pulled you in closer, took a long breath, and then softly pressed a kiss at the exposed space right beneath your ear. You sighed in your sleep, the sound dreamy enough to make him consider quitting his job altogether just so he could live in this moment, and pressed into him for warmth. He reminded himself that this was not how he wanted the conversation of line crossing to start⏤ with you waking up in his arms, with his face exposed, and his morning wood pressed against your ass. Bad idea. Very bad idea. Using every ounce of strength he had, Din pulled his arms away from you and slid out of bed. 

Din readjusted himself then went searching for his helmet. It had been left on the bathroom floor. As he slid it on, he was mildly impressed with himself. He hadn’t remembered turning off the faucets, but apparently some part of him from last night had enough mindset to do so. He had to sneak back into his room to find his communicator, but then settled in the kitchen leaning against the island counter. A pot of caf was brewing behind him as he checked his messages. He had a few questioning ones from Mayfeld and Cara, missed calls from Cara as well, and he even noted a missed call from Grogu’s school. All three of you had slept in a lot longer than intended.

The first call he made was to Grogu’s school just to let them know he was sick and wouldn’t be in. They were very understanding and wished him well. Before responding to either of his deputies, he poured himself a now finished cup of caf and lifted his helmet just enough to take a long sip. Before he could make the next call, the sounds of bare feet padding across the floor drifted to him. Din looked to the arch in time to see you step into the kitchen⏤ still in your pajamas and eyes half lidded with the remainders of your sleep.

“Morning.” Din murmured. You echoed the sentiment and rubbed your face while he began to pour another mug of caf for you. You reached his side by the island counter and Din set the mug in front of you. A thanks was mumbled briefly before you took a long sip. Din let his eyes soak in the sight of you and he couldn’t bite back the sigh that left his lips.

You set the mug down and offered him a small smile. “Grogu is still sleeping.” Din nodded. “Poor baby is tuckered out from last night.”

“Thank you again.” Din said.

“You don’t need to thank me for that. You never need to thank me for that.” You rested an elbow on the counter while facing him and slumped against the counter. Din mirrored your posture and the two of you stared at one another in the quiet of the house. Din had worried that in the morning light things would feel awkward⏤ you would seem uncomfortable. It was the opposite though. It was as if the wall between him and you had finally crumbled to dust and now all that remained was a palpable tension. A delicious one.

It was better than the moment right before he caught a difficult quarry. Better than the seconds right before he’d nose dive his ship mid flight to avoid a pursuer. Better than the beeping sound of his ship’s weapons locking onto an enemy. Better than the free fall when he was in the air right before he activated his jetpack. Din faced a lot of thrills in his life, but nothing was better than this moment right here. You and him were rising to a precipice and Maker did Din want to push both of you over the edge.

“Cyar’ika⏤”

“Mando⏤”

You both spoke at the same time only to stop and chuckle. Din shifted so he was a step closer to you. You leaned toward him rather than backing away and his chest swelled with pride. He reached out and let the tips of his fingers trail down your bare arm until they found your hand. You turned your hand just enough to allow him to tangle his grip with yours. 

“I think we should talk.” His words came out in a hoarse whisper.

You squeezed his hand with a nod. “I think you’re right.”

Din was torn between being thankful for his helmet and hating it right now. If he didn’t have it on he could just show you how he felt⏤ kiss you and make sure you felt every ounce of passion he felt for you. He wasn’t good at words, he was good at action. With the helmet on, he’d have to rely on voicing what you meant to him. At least the beskar hid his face. At least you couldn’t see how nervous he felt.

“Ever since you’ve settled here,” Din began, he cleared his throat, “I’ve been⏤”

The shrill sound of his communicator blared in the quiet kitchen making both of you jump apart. His hand slipped from yours and there was suddenly too much space between the two of you. Din picked up the communicator, cursed at Mayfeld’s name, and glanced back at you. You sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck, your lips ticked up in a small smile, and then nodded. “You need to get that.”

Your words sounded like you were trying to convince yourself of that as well. Din heaved a sigh and answered the communicator. He snapped. “What?”

“Mando! Finally! Where the kriff are you!?” Mayfeld barked back at him. Din’s annoyance was subdued when he heard the familiar sounds of blaster fire.

“What’s going on?”

“Those damn pirates are back and they brought friends.” Mayfeld replied. “We’re out in the lava plains. Looks like they’ve either set up base or traps but either way⏤” His voice was interrupted by more blaster fire then what sounded like Cara angrily yelling curses, “Mando! We need that shiny beskar covered ass out here, now please.”

“I’m coming. Send your coordinates.” Din hung up. His gaze met yours. “Cyar’ika⏤”

“Go. We’ll be fine here.” You replied. “I was going to take Grogu to the clinic. As much as I hate Daelar⏤”

“No.” Din blurted as his hands grasped your arms. He shook his head, grip loosening. “No, don’t. Don’t leave this house. I’ll get Daelar to make a home visit.” 

The thought of you being out in Nevarro with Grogu while the pirates were this close made him ill. 

You nodded. “Oh, okay.”

Din forced himself to step away from you so he could get dressed. You stayed in the kitchen. When he entered his bedroom, shutting the door behind him, he saw Grogu blink his large eyes open and yawn. Din pulled his helmet off to greet his son with a reassuring smile while simultaneously changing into his flight suit.

“Work, buir?” Grogu grumbled.

“Work, ad’ika.” He replied. Din paused before pulling on his beskar to ask in Mando’a, “How do you feel?”

Grogu didn’t offer an answer but he buried himself deeper into the blankets with a content babble. Din took that as a good sign. He quickly pulled on his armor and scooped his helmet back up off the bed where he had tossed it. Din knelt down and Grogu sat up enough to allow him to set his forehead against his.

“Be good today.” He said. “Ma is going to take care of you, but I need you to look out for her as well.”

Grogu chirped out a confirmation, still drowsy, and Din took the time to tuck his son comfortably in bed before tugging his helmet on. Before leaving his room, he reached into a drawer to pull out a new blaster. It was small and lightweight in his own hands, but it would fit in yours perfectly. He had it built for you after all. Din ordered it hours after getting back from your first shooting lessons, and it had been completed days ago. He just hadn’t had the opportunity to give it you. Din wanted to take you back out so you could train with this specifically, but he’d have to settle for now.

Din wasn’t going to walk out of this house without knowing you had something in reach to protect yourself and Grogu. As a back up, of course. Din’s plan involved you never having to actually use it.

He hurried out of his room, back to the kitchen, and saw you standing over the stove stirring a pot. Din paused beside you and let his hand settle on your lower back. It looked like you were making some kind of rice porridge for Grogu. At his touch though, you lifted the pot to set it on a cool burner and faced him.

“You’ll be careful, right?” You asked. There was fear in your eyes and Din hated it.

“I will.” He replied. “Take this.” When he pressed the blaster into your hands, your eyes widened. “Keep it by your side today. Grogu knows better than to mess with any of my weapons, but he’s also a little womp rat so…” You let out a soft laugh and his lips ticked up. He needed to go. Din needed to hurry out. Before he could question himself, Din leaned down so he could set his forehead against yours. You took in a sharp breath and he carefully cradled the side of your face. “Do not leave the house today. Please. I’ll have my communicator on if you need anything, don’t hesitate, but⏤” Din sighed. “Please, cyar’ika, I just need to know you and Grogu are safe today.”

You set your empty hand on top of his and Din wished he didn’t have to feel your touch through the leather of his glove. “I promise we’ll stay here. Just come back home in one piece, Mando.”

“Din.” He whispered.

You pulled back just an inch, still hovering close enough that your breath could fog up his t-visor, “Wh⏤What?”

“My name.” He said. “It’s Din Djarin.”

“Din.” The way his name fell from your lips in that sweet voice nearly sent him to his knees. “Be safe, Din.”

He couldn’t afford to stay another minute. It would only make it that much harder to go. Din hurried out of his home and activated his jetpack the moment he was outside. The sooner this was dealt with the sooner he’d be back to you and Grogu.

  mando'a translations

 Cyar’ika: Darling /// Ad’ika: son /// Buir: Father

Ma cuyir norac. Dala cuyir olar: Ma is back. She's here.

[valkeakuulas]

:D Hello! *rolls the 🎲* with Cody/Wooley, please

👉🏻👈🏻

Ahhh, the good ol' Cohawk. And guess what? The Random Number Generator gave me 21 AKA WILDCARD! Dealer's choice :) which means I get to pick any prompt I want!

Also, there be naughty themes here, heh heh. I'd give this R rating or something like that. ;D

** ** **

21. WILDCARD! Dealer's choice :) = 38. A Kiss While One Party Is Carried

Wooley wasn't drunk, just tipsy. Delightfully tipsy. The little tower of upended shot glasses, glittering in the bar's lights, might reach his jaw but Wooley hadn't been the only one to down them, no sir.

Anyway, as he was only tipsy and not drunk, Wooley could admire the exotic sight that was Marshal Commander Cody in dress grays. Usually, the uniform did nothing for a clone's figure but as Wooley let his eyes drag up the Marshal Commander's back, lingering on Cody's ass, he had to admit that there must've been some kind of Force-related mystery afoot because somehow Cody made the whole thing work.

Such injustice, Wooley mused, turning his attention to thick, strong thighs. They, as always, looked good (especially when wrapped around him) and the longer Wooley looked at them, the more he wanted to see them out of those pants.

Cody turned away from the Commander that had accosted him (Wooley had no idea who they were, only that he had never seen a more haggard-looking clone in his life), he gave Wooley an apologetic smile. The humidity of the night had affected Cody's hair, loosening them from the neatly combed back form. At some point he had loosened the collar of his jacket, revealing collarbones, and even in the dimness of the bar, Wooley's eyes zeroed in on the dark mark on one of them.

That and the warmth in Cody's eyes as he leaned close made Wooley's heart skip a beat.

Wooley smiled, wide and bright, loving it when he got to see the older clone at ease like this.

"You want another drink?" Cody asked, speaking loud enough to carry over the music. He leaned against the bar counter, looking so relaxed as he flagged the service droid.

"I think I'm in the mood for something else," Wooley replied, remembering his earlier thought of wanting to see Cody out of those pants. His smile turned into a cheeky grin as he let his eyes rove meaningfully over Cody.

From the way Cody's hand stopped mid-wave, eyes darkening, he got Wooley's message loud and clear.

Winking, Wooley pushed himself upright (only swaying a little) and weaved his way through the dancing bodies and in the direction of the refreshers. He could feel the heat emanating from Cody's body as he followed Wooley right on his heels.

The refresher was mostly empty and even through the closed door the music was still loud enough to cover the muffled sounds and rattling that came from one of the occupied stalls.

Aiming for the last one, Wooley stepped in and turned around when Cody locked the door.

Before the older clone could crowd him against one of the walls, Wooley beat him to it. Grabbing Cody's thighs, Wooley felt the muscles bunch in surprise when he hoisted Cody in the air. With a yelp of surprise, Cody wrapped his limbs around Wooley, looking down at him with what could only be called confused lust.

Smirking, Wooley shifted his hold, fingers sinking into Cody's thighs. His muscles barely strained from holding Cody like this and he let it show by lifting Cody higher for a quick second.

The startled, hungry noise Cody did surprised them both, especially the older clone, whose face turned bright red. Being carried like this clearly did things to Cody because Wooley could see the way his pupils widened, nearly drowning the gold-brown.

Then, Cody kissed him urgently, almost needy, as fingers tugged at Wooley's hair and shoulders. The thighs, the ones that had started all this, tensed as Cody wrapped them tighter around Wooley. This close, there was no way to hide the hardness pressing against Wooley, not that he was any better in that matter.

In the back of his delightfully tipsy mind, the little sober part of Wooley congratulated himself for having such a bright idea and vowed to try this again in the future.

For now, lust and alcohol robbed away the rest of Wooley's thoughts, muffling the heavy beat of the music and the sounds of fucking from the next stall over, until all he could think and feel was Cody and Cody's lips.

[wild-karrde]

In Command - Part 20

Master List | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: An update while on vacation? Sure why not. As always, thank you to the phenomenal @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading for me!

Chapter Rating: E (18+ minors skeedaddle)

Warnings: explicit sexual content (PiV sex, oral sex, cum eating, fingering), language

Word Count: 8.5k words

“That cake was AMAZING!”

“Wrecker, we’re all honestly surprised you tasted it at all with how fast you ate it,” Hunter teased.

“Yeah, I think you’ve scarred some of those service droids for life,” Senna joked.

“Did you see the one? Wrecker almost took his arm off!” Echo was laughing so hard tears were pricking at his eyes now, and Senna joined him, doubling over in the middle of the hall as they walked back to their rooms. Maybe it was the wine or just the relief of being safe with full bellies, but either way, the mood had lifted significantly among the group. Even Tech was smiling and engaging in conversation rather than ignoring everyone in favor of his datapad. 

Wrecker shrugged. “I was hungry, and they were in the way.”

“Perhaps you should keep in mind that they are also responsible for preparing your food, Wrecker. Threatening them may not be the best idea,” Tech pointed out, and even Rex snorted in amusement at that. 

“Was that a joke, Tech?” Senna teased. 

The goggled clone blinked at her, and Senna swore he was trying to stifle a grin. 

“Take it as you wish.” 

Their laughter echoed down the halls as they returned to the wing of the palace they were staying in, dying off as they all bid each other good night and returned to their rooms. 

“Try to get some sleep,” Echo murmured to Senna, and she shoved him, her face heating. He chuckled, moving off down the hall to his door. 

Rex leaned against the wall as she punched the unlock code into the keypad for their room. “What was that about?”

Senna shrugged, blowing her hair out of her face as the door slid open. “Just Echo saying good night.” 

She didn’t look at him, but she could hear his huff of a laugh, could practically feel his smirk as he slipped his hand into the small of her back, gently ushering her into the room. 

Senna strode to the center of the bedroom, suddenly nervous for reasons she couldn’t understand. She turned to watch Rex lock the door behind them before he met her eyes. The only sound was their breathing as they stared at one another, seemingly unsure of where to start, paralyzed by choice with nothing inhibiting either of them this time. 

Where do I even begin? There’s so much I want. 

And nothing will stop me from taking it. 

It was strange to think that Senna had been afraid of having this, having the person she’d wanted so desperately with all of her feelings reciprocated. The rest of the galaxy fell away outside of the door, and Senna’s entire universe shrank to the size of the bedroom with Rex at the center of it all. 

Fuck, I love him so much. 

Mercifully, Rex moved first, closing the gap between them with a measured patience that sent need coursing through Senna. He cradled her face, and she felt herself melt into his touch as he smiled down at her with darkening eyes. 

“I believe I made you a promise,” he rumbled. “And now I have all night to fulfill it.” 

Senna felt herself tremble with excitement as he leaned down to kiss her, working his lips gently against hers as his hands slid to her waist. It wasn’t until he slipped his hands under her shirt, his calloused palms grazing her skin that she finally felt some of her wits return to her, enough for her to not let him take the lead entirely. Her tongue grazed his bottom lip, and he groaned, permitting her entrance as his grip on her tightened. Senna allowed him to back her against a wall, letting out a small grunt when her shoulderblades bumped into the hard surface. Rex made no apology, instead slotting his knee in between her legs as he pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it somewhere to be forgotten. Senna ground against him desperately as her fingers dug into the back of his neck. She whined as his lips left hers, moving along her jawline to her neck. He left one mark, and then another, sucking bruises into her skin where her clothing would cover as his hands worked at her breastband, removing it as well and flinging it aside. 

His hands were immediately on her breasts, cradling them before tugging gently on her nipples just enough to make Senna gasp. She felt his mouth curl into a smile against her skin at her response, and for whatever reason, some of her competitive edge resurfaced. She pushed him back from her, relishing in his confusion before she spun him against the wall, effectively swapping places. 

“You are far too clothed,” she rasped, pulling at his shirt eagerly. Rex’s grin returned as he helped her slip the garment over his head. 

“Can’t have that now, can we?” he teased. 

“I think I made you some sort of promise too,” Senna whispered as she nipped at his collarbone, her fingers tracing the bandage on his chest. “If it’s not too much.” 

She felt Rex shudder slightly under her touch. “I don’t recall you promising anything.”

“Then let me refresh your memory,” she whispered directly into his ear, nipping at the lobe before she trailed kisses down his neck and chest, sinking to her knees in front of him. Rex inhaled sharply, and when she met his eyes, they were blown wide. 

“What is it?” she asked. 

“I… would you believe me if I told you I dreamed about this?” 

Her fingers found his belt, undoing the clasp as she kept her eyes on his. 

“Sounds like I’ve got a lot to live up to.” 

He cupped her chin, his thumb pushing against her lower lip as he frantically helped her undo his trousers with his other hand. 

“You’ve already exceeded it in every way, Sen.” 

She kissed the pad of his thumb, blushing under his gaze. Rex caught his lip between his teeth as she freed his cock, stroking it a few times. She adjusted such that the head grazed against her bare breasts, dragging her thumb over the head and spreading the precum leaking from the tip over the flushed skin. 

“I’ve dreamt of this too,” she whispered, pressing closer so that she could kiss Rex’s bare hip teasingly. His muscles flexed as he jerked towards her with a sharp inhale. “Wondered what you tasted like, how you’d feel against my tongue, what sounds you’d make.” She blew against the tip, and Rex whined. 

“Senna, please.”

She grinned wickedly. “I thought we had all night.”

Before Rex could retort, she wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock and sucked gently, savoring the taste and warmth of him as she flicked her tongue against any sensitive spot she could find. Rex’s head thunked against the wall as he unleashed a curse, his hand still gently cradling her face. Senna smiled, running her tongue along the bottom of his length, tracing the vein she could feel there. 

“Fuck,” Rex groaned. 

Slowly, Senna worked Rex further into her mouth, fighting against her gag reflex and the ache of her jaw as she took him deeper with each bob of her head, her fingers wrapped around the length she couldn’t yet reach. She’d never taken anyone as large as Rex in her mouth before, but the way he was sweating and moaning was addicting, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever tire of the sight of Rex, muscles flexing, jaw clenched, eyes locked on her as she allowed him deeper each pass. When her nose finally met the curls at the base of his cock, she swallowed, and Rex’s hands flew to her head as he gasped. 

“Maker alive, do that again. Oh gods, please do that again.” 

Every thought she’d have of taking her time flew from her mind as she heard his plea. She wanted to shatter Rex. 

Tears streamed from Senna’s eyes, but a thrill shot through her at seeing her lover doubled over, gasping and whining and begging for her. She obliged, fighting harder against her gag reflex, practically choking herself on him. Rex’s fingers tightened in her hair, but he didn’t hold her down or press her further. His control only made her want more. Senna pushed her face against Rex hard enough to pin him against the wall, and she drove his cock so far into her throat that she knew she’d be hoarse in the morning, but it was worth hearing Rex whimper and feel his control finally start to slip. 

“Sen, I don’t want-”

Senna released him with a gasp, panting as she pumped him quickly. Strings of saliva connected her lips to him still. 

“Rex, I want to taste it,” she rasped. “Please let me taste you. Give it to me.” 

He swore again as she took him to the back of her throat once more before she began to bob up and down, swallowing when she was able to. Her cunt was screaming for attention, and she slid a hand between her legs as her lips went numb around Rex’s length. She glanced up at him through watery eyes and almost came from the sight of him alone.

The captain was wrecked. Sweat slicked his skin as he did his best to focus on her through hooded lids. Broken curses and stuttered praises poured from between his lips as he watched her, and she relished in every second of it. His abdomen flexed in front of her eyes, and she felt his cock twitch against her tongue. She knew she was close to claiming her prize. 

“S-Sen, I-I…”

She wrapped her hand around him, twisting firmly as her knuckles followed her lips, her fingers growing slick with her own saliva. 

“Oh, f-fuck, Senna.”

Rex came hard, coating Senna’s tongue in warm stickiness. She swallowed everything he gave her, flicking her tongue over the tip of him to clean him off until he shuddered.

“S’too much,” he mumbled. “T-too much.” 

Rex leaned down and kissed her, sinking to the floor along with her, but never releasing his hold on her face as he practically pulled her into his lap, panting against her lips. She kissed him back fervently, grinding her soaked cunt against his thigh again, desperate for any friction. 

“That was… so fucking good,” Rex gasped. He pulled her against him, resting his forehead against hers as he fought to regain his breath. His fingers stroked her bare spine. “Was it ok?”

She giggled against his mouth. “It was perfect. I told you I wanted to taste you like that. From the source.” 

Rex’s eyes had darkened again. 

“Well, it’s only fair that I return the favor then.” 

With a strength and swiftness that drew a surprised whoop from Senna, Rex scooped her into his arms, nearly tackling her backwards onto the bed in three strides. His hand cradled her head as she fell against the mattress, panting as his mouth worked down her body, anticipation sending shivers down her spine. His fingers hooked into her trousers pulling them and her undergarments off in one swift tug. He kicked the rest of the way out of his pants, kneeling at the edge of the bed as his lips reached the inside of her thigh. In between panting breaths, he scooped under Senna’s ass, hauling her to the edge of the bed and pulling one leg over his shoulder. Senna shuddered as his breath hit her warm, wet cunt in a huff that almost felt like a sigh. 

“Beautiful,” he breathed. 

Senna’s skin broke out in goosebumps as he nuzzled the inside of her thigh, biting softly against the tender flesh until she whined. 

“Don’t tease,” she gasped. 

There wasn’t a single glimmer of mercy in Rex’s gaze as he looked up at Senna from between her spread legs. “I thought you said we had all night, love.” 

Senna couldn’t tear her eyes away from Rex as he stuck two fingers into his mouth, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he gently withdrew them, running them along the soaked lips of her cunt. She whimpered again, her fingers gripping the duvet hard enough to drain the blood from them. Rex smirked. 

“I’ve looked forward to this.” 

“Well I wouldn’t want you to deprive yourself any longer,” Senna gritted out, her brow furrowing as she tried to bite back another whimper. 

Rex grinned triumphantly before leaning down and licking into her. Senna’s back arched off the bed as his fingers slid into her, immediately finding the spongy place inside her and pressing against it. Rex’s other hand gripped her thigh, holding her firmly in place as his mouth explored her. Sometimes he removed his fingers, using them to instead apply pressure to her clit as his tongue prodded into her. Then, as her orgasm built, he’d swap back, leaving her huffing in frustration until he plunged his fingers back inside of her, sucking at her sensitive bundle of nerves. 

His mouth was heaven, and before long, Senna found herself grinding back up to meet his tongue. Rex relaxed his grip on her hip, groaning into her as she clenched around him. 

“You going to cum for me, pretty girl?” he mumbled into her folds. 

“P-please. Please let me, Rex.”

“I want to taste it.” 

He redoubled his effort until it felt like every nerve ending in Senna’s body was stretched taut, ready to snap. When she glanced down between her knees, electricity licked up her spine. Rex was stroking himself as he devoured her, his cock hardening again in his hand as he worshiped her on his knees. 

“Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” she begged. “Don’t stop. Right there.”

The wet smacking sound of Rex devouring her echoed between her pants and moans, and finally, Rex gave her what she wanted, snapping the tension as Senna came with a scream that poured out between her clenched teeth. She rode out the aftershocks, drifting through her haze until Rex’s damp lips pressed against hers once more. 

His knees were pressing hers further apart, and she wrapped her legs around him. 

“Tell me what you want, Senna,” he whispered against the shell of her ear. “I’ll give you anything.” 

This time, Senna had a response. “I want it all, Rex. Everything. I want you. I need you inside me.” She kissed him back, tasting her own release on his tongue. “I love you. Fuck I love you.” 

He rested his forehead against hers as his cock caught at her entrance. Calloused hands cradled her face as he pushed into her, slowly stretching her to accommodate him. 

“I love you, Senna. F-fuck. You feel so good. So good for me.”

Senna’s fingers wrapped around the back of Rex’s neck as she buried her face in his shoulder, sighing into his skin as he bottomed out inside of her. 

“All for you, Rex. All yours.” 

“And I’m yours.” 

Rex pulled her apart slowly, adjusting his hips and noting how Senna whined and writhed beneath him. She should have guessed he’d be meticulous, but his patience drove her wild. Desperation clouded her senses, and she couldn’t understand how he fucked her so methodically, so patiently, carefully crafting her orgasm while she clawed at his back. She came again, trying to muffle her screams in his shoulder, but Rex was having none of it. 

“I want to hear it all, Senna.” 

“B-but what about the others?”

“Door’s got a soundproof setting when locked,” he rasped. “I’m selfish. I want all of your sounds just for me.” 

That was all the encouragement Senna needed as Rex put his hands behind her knees, folding her in half and driving his cock back into her, bringing her another orgasm in a matter of minutes. She had no doubt he meant to make good on his promise as he moved her again, molding her malleable body to his liking. All of the possibilities that had overwhelmed her had also apparently been bouncing around in Rex’s mind, and he seemed intent on checking every box in one evening. He took her on her side with one leg hooked over his hip, he lifted her into his lap as though she weighed nothing, spearing her on his cock, and when she felt as though she couldn’t possibly orgasm again in this lifetime without spontaneously combusting, he rolled her onto her hands and knees, taking her from behind. 

Her cunt was swollen and she knew she’d feel sore in the morning, and her throat felt raw from crying out Rex’s name. Sweat slicked both of their skin, and the sheets stuck to them, damp from their bodies. Even still, she couldn’t get enough of him, and she wasn’t about to tell him to stop. 

“One more for me, Sen. I know you’ve got one more in you,” Rex grunted from behind her. 

“Rex… I…” Senna wasn’t even sure what plane of existence she lived on at this point, floating between bliss and some other world where ‘pleasure’ was an inadequate word to describe anything she felt. And yet, somehow, she felt the coil tightening in her gut again as Rex’s fingers dug into her hips, pulling her back into him. She felt her ass rippling with every thrust, a wet slapping sound coming from between her legs as Rex fucked her.

“You can,” he growled. “Touch yourself for me, pretty girl. You’ll give me one more.” 

Senna slowly adjusted, her body feeling gelatinous, but somehow she managed to prop herself up on one elbow, her fingers finding their way to her swollen clit, rubbing with a practiced pressure that immediately pushed her towards the edge. Her forehead stuck to the sheets, and suddenly, she felt Rex brush the hair off of her shoulder before his fingers gripped her, pulling her up against his chest with one of his arms draped across her collar bone, holding her up. 

“Look at how gorgeous you are,” he whispered into her ear, and Senna’s eyes fell on the mirror in one corner of the room. 

Her hair hung in loose waves, sticking to her sweaty body and Rex’s chest. One hand gently cradled her throat while the other tightly gripped her hip, guiding her along his length. Her breasts bounced with every snap of Rex’s hips, and she could see his cock disappearing inside of her with every thrust, his balls swinging forward to slap against her clit. But the thing that set her entire body ablaze was the way Rex was watching her in the mirror, his dark eyes focused on her face and expressions. He looked hungry, enamored, in charge and at her mercy all at the same time, as if he was taking everything he wanted but would submit at her word. 

His hand slipped from her hip, finding her clit and pressing with just the perfect amount of pressure, as if he’d been touching her like this all of his life. 

“Cum for me, Senna.” 

She nearly passed out, screaming as she soaked the sheets beneath them with her release. Rex’s arms held her up as the room around them disappeared around them in a haze, and she sagged against him, wrung out and undone in every way. 

“I’ve got you,” Rex gasped in her ear as he held her close. Gently, he lowered her down onto the pillows, leaning over her and brushing away the hair that was stuck to her face. Sweat trickled from his brow, but his expression was softer, more tender as he stared down at her. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

“No,” she replied. Rex’s brow furrowed with concern. 

Senna planted her palms against his chest, pushing him onto his back and clambering on top of him clumsily. 

“Your turn,” she gasped, pushing her hair back out of her face. 

Rex rested his hands on her thighs, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles. “Sen, you don’t have-”

“Shhh,” she insisted. “I want to.” She felt his cock twitch against her ass with interest. 

“Are you sure you’ve got the stamina for it?” he asked teasingly. 

She glared at him before angling her hips and sheathing him inside of her in one smooth motion, sitting up on his hips and grinding down until she felt him bottom out inside of her. Rex groaned, his grip on her tightening, and Senna huffed with victory. 

“Pretty sure,” she laughed, rocking her hips against Rex and enjoying the way his chest heaved beneath her fingertips. 

She teased him for a while, allowing herself to catch her breath as she slowly raised herself, letting the cool night air hit Rex’s slick cock before dropping herself back down to meet his hips, relishing in his grunts and groans of pleasure. Finally, when her head was a little clearer, she picked up the pace, bracing her hands against his shoulders as she rode him, finding pleasure when the head of his cock brushed the place inside her that had her seeing stars. 

“Senna.”

She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes, but snapped them back open to look down at Rex. His lips were parted slightly as he reached for her, cradling her face and running his thumb along her lower lip. She kissed it. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” he whispered, resting his other hand on her hip to slow her. Senna took her cue from him, whining when he began to meet her slow grinding with his hips. 

“C’mere.” He pulled her down so that their foreheads rested against one another. Senna braced herself on either side of his head, dropping to her elbows so that she could graze her nose against his. Her hair hung down, curtaining the two of them in together so that all she seemed able to focus on was his eyes, locked on hers. He groaned quietly into her mouth as he met her hips again. 

“Just like this,” he rasped. “I want to finish just like this. Looking at you like this.” 

“Ok,” was the only response she could muster. Her body felt heated again, burning under his touch but needing more of it. Her breasts rested against his chest as she pressed her lips against his, whimpering into his mouth. 

The room was quiet except for their soft gasps and whines and the rustling of the sheets, and something about the quiet intimacy of it all almost made Senna cry. 

“I love you,” Rex whispered, his voice slightly more strained. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you too, Rex.”

“I-I never… fuck… I never thought I-I’d feel like this… with anyone. B-but here you are. I never stood a chance.” 

She laughed quietly before he punctured it with another gasp when he began guiding her hips to grind himself deeper into her. It felt as though his cock was reaching something so deep inside of her, somewhere no one had ever touched, and Senna cried out.

“I want it all with you, Senna,” Rex continued. She’d never heard him talk like this, but fuck if it wasn’t unravelling everything in her. “I d-don’t ever want to be without you again. I wanted this for so long. So long. And I don’t think I can lose you. Ever.”

“Rex.” 

“Senna.” 

“Rex, I-I… I’m gonna-”

“I know. I know. Me too.” 

“Don’t stop.” 

“I won’t. I won’t ever stop.” 

Rex gasped, swearing as he came, and his grip on the back of her neck tightened. The warmth between her legs drew a stuttering, breathy cry from Senna as her orgasm met his. The two of them rode out their highs, sighing and panting into each other’s mouths until Rex eased Senna down on the pillow next to him. Her leg remained draped over his hip as he kissed her tenderly, cradling her face. 

Finally, Rex relented, laying back on the pillows and pulling the covers over the two of them. They lay facing each other, the sweat still glistening on their foreheads as their panting finally calmed to a normal rate of breathing. Senna traced her fingers along Rex’s neck and collarbone as she looked into his eyes. 

“Well, that was a pleasant upgrade from a cave floor,” she grinned.

Rex let out a deep breathy laugh, letting his fingers intertwine with hers. “I couldn’t agree more. And this bed is better than the one at the inn.”

“Yeah.”

They lay in silence for several more moments as Rex traced patterns on the skin of her hip and she shivered under his touch. Pulling the sheet up to cover her abdomen and chest, she scooted closer to him, resting her forehead against his as his hand drifted across her waist and pressed into the small of her back, pulling her closer.

“Did you mean what you said?” she whispered after a few moments. “About never being without me again?” 

She was glad he didn’t answer instantly, that he took a moment to think about it before smiling at her, stroking her cheek. 

“Yes. I do mean that.” 

Senna hesitated for a moment. 

“How do you think our story ends?” 

It was a question that had been sitting in the back of her mind ever since she’d first considered the possibility of being with Rex. What would their future look like? How would it all end? With the two of them married? With children? It seemed like they should be on the same page in terms of the end goal, but if she was honest, she had no idea what she hoped for. 

Happiness, I suppose.

“How do you want it to end?” Rex asked, rubbing his thumb along her lower lip to deter the nervous chewing she’d started.

Senna sighed. “I don’t know. I want to be happy.”

“Are you happy?”

“Of course. But there are many ways to be happy with someone that you love.” 

Rex laughed softly, letting the thought hang between them for a few moments. “Would…would you want to get married?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Senna met his eyes, her azure irises boring into him. It was something she’d considered of course, but hearing Rex say the words out loud only solidified her desire for it in her mind. She wanted to be bound to Rex in any way she could. Of course, it would take time to be sure. She wasn’t that impulsive. 

In fact, marriage wasn’t something she’d really thought of as a possibility for herself, even after the war. It seemed silly to consider that path when she was so focused on survival and keeping herself hidden. But then Rex had come along, and something about him had always made her certain it was a thing he’d desire if he was with the right person. When she’d first met him, she’d just never thought that she would be that person for him. 

Senna leaned into his touch and nodded. “Yes, I suppose I would. If that’s something you’d want as well when the time comes.”

Rex smiled widely, seemingly giddy in a way that Senna had never seen. “That is very much something I’d want after this is over.” He hesitated, suddenly appearing a bit nervous. “Although…I’m sorry I have no surname to give you.”

Senna giggled. “What makes you think I’d take your name anyway?”

Rex huffed before throwing an arm around her and squeezing her playfully, digging his nose into the spot near her collarbone that he’d clearly noted was ticklish. Senna wriggled in his arms until he finally released her, bumping his nose against hers. 

“Good point, I suppose.” He let his thumb run over her cheekbone, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I…I’d have no issue taking yours. I kind of like the name ‘Aven’.”

Senna’s smile faltered slightly. “I don’t think I’d want to keep that name. I’m no longer that person anymore. In my mind, Senna Aven didn’t survive Order 66. I mean, I did, but-” 

“I understand,” Rex tried to reassure her. 

“It’s just…” The words escaped Senna, and that frustrated her. Her teeth dug into her lip once more, and again, he soothed her nerves again with his thumb, trying to keep her from bloodying her own lip with her nerves. 

“If you don’t stop doing that, I’m not going to have anything left to kiss.”

She smiled. “Sorry. It’s a habit when I’m thinking.”

“When are you not thinking?”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, but couldn’t muster any argument. Instead, she let her hand drift to his hip as she met his eyes. 

“What if…what if we chose our own surname? Something that was meaningful to us and kind of symbolic of us starting over? A new beginning.”

Senna could see him thinking the suggestion over. 

“I chose my own name when I was a cadet,” he said slowly. “So in a sense, it’s a family tradition, I suppose. But this seems so much more important than picking ‘Rex’. It’s something I’d share with you.” He met her gaze. “The person I love.”

She watched him quietly as he thought for a few moments, and then his eyes widened slightly. Rex intertwined his fingers with hers as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. 

“There’s a word in Mando’a, atiniir. It means ‘to endure’ or ‘to tough it out.’ It’s a word I heard the trainers use when I was a cadet, and I think that kind of describes the both of us.”

Senna turned the word over on her tongue, considering it. 

Atiniir. 

Endurance was definitely a word that felt right for her and Rex. They’d endured the war, the aftermath, hell even each other before they’d fallen in love. After a few moments, she grinned at him. 

“We don’t have to decide now. It was just a thought,” Rex said, suddenly nervous. 

Senna smiled at him, and the worried pinch between his brows vanished. “Well, then I wouldn’t have to worry about changing my initials,” she joked. Leaning more into him, she captured his lips in a kiss, and he tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her to him. Parting her lips from his, she rested her forehead against his. 

“If we last long enough to get married, I’d be honored to share that name with you, Rex. I love it.”

Rex smiled, stroking her cheek as he held her close to him. 

“And I love you,” he murmured softly.

—

The following morning, Rex awoke to an empty bed, but this time, everything felt decidedly different from Lothal. Senna had gotten up an hour ago, trying to not wake him. He’d felt her watching him sleep for a few moments before she leaned down and kissed him, and after all of her effort to let him sleep, he figured it would only be rude to let her know he was awake. After the main door had hissed shut behind her, he’d managed to drop back off for a little while, dreaming of the night before, of her smile, her laugh, and the way she looked wrapped around him. But now, the dreams were no longer enough, and he was ready to track her back down and feel her in his arms for real. 

Rolling over and opening his eyes, he immediately noticed a metallic glint on the pillow next to him. Rex picked it up, turning it over in his hands and examining it. It was a piece of metallic tubing a few centimeters in length that had been bent at a right angle. It had a small nozzle on either end and in the middle of the bent line, two spacers seated along the tubing that spun as he turned the piece over in his hands. He could see that they’d fused together, which he assumed wasn’t good, but beyond that, he wasn’t sure what the hardware was for. 

What’s she playing at? he thought, his mouth curving into a grin despite his confusion. 

Rex dressed quickly with some clothes he found in the room’s wardrobe that seemed to be the right fit, slipping the piece of metal into his pocket before stepping out into the hallway. He stood still for a minute, straining his ears to catch any clue of where Senna might have gone. After a few moments, he was rewarded with the sound of quick footsteps and a familiar grunt from further down the hall, and he strode off towards the source of the noise.

After wandering through a few corridors, he came upon a wide open room with massive archways that opened to the outside. A cool morning breeze was blowing, whistling slightly through the archways and tugging at the corners of Rex’s shirt. The room appeared to be some sort of training center, with targets at one end of the room, weight training equipment at the other, and in the wide open space in the middle was Senna, her lightsaber humming as she parried an invisible opponent. The cerulean sleeveless tunic she wore rippled like water as she spun, and Rex could see the back of it was soaked with sweat. Her hair was tied back in a long braid that whipped back and forth as she turned on her heel and struck another blow at her imaginary assailant. She grunted and yelled as she attacked, and he realized that was the sound that he’d been hearing from down the hall as she moved through the same sequence again. Rex leaned against the edge of the archway, watching her until a quiet voice next to him made him jump.

“Seems like she’s getting her stuff back,” Echo whispered. “Or at least she’s certainly trying to.”

Rex glanced sideways. Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech stood behind Echo, Wrecker munching on some kind of bun he’d likely gotten from the kitchens. The clones were out of their armor and wearing lightweight clothing clearly meant for them to work out in.

“I think that encounter with the Inquisitor shook her up a bit. It’s been a while since she was challenged on that level, and trust me, she hates to lose,” Rex said under his breath.

“She didn’t lose though. She survived,” Echo replied.

Rex smirked. “She won’t see it that way.” He glanced back at Senna. “I’m not sure her using that lightsaber out in the open is a good idea though.”

“Organa’s aide assured us no one would come down to this part of the castle,” Hunter replied. “We were feeling antsy and were assured this would be a safe place to blow off some steam.” 

“Are you all going to stand there like mynocks on a power cable, or are you going to come over here and make yourselves useful?” Senna called from the middle of the room, her back to them.

Rex snorted and Echo rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as they all stepped further into the room. Senna finally turned to face them, the tiny wisps of hair that had come loose from her braid sticking to her face and neck. She smiled at Rex, her eyes roving over him. He realized it was the most well-rested she’d looked in a long time despite the hours they’d spent wrapped around one another the night before. The sudden image of her on her knees in front of him invaded his mind, and his cock threatened to noticeably stiffen in his pants. He tried to subtly adjust himself, but Senna’s sharp blue eyes flicked down to where his hands were trying to hide an erection, and her lips curled into a mischievous grin. 

“Something on your mind, Captain?” she asked under her breath, bumping her shoulder against his.

“Oh, just the fact that you seem to be walking just fine,” he murmured into her ear. 

She winked at him. “I suppose I am, even if I am a bit sore. Voice is definitely hoarse if that’s any consolation.” 

He smirked at her. “Guess I’ve got more work to do.”

“If you’re up for it,” she teased. Turning to the rest of them, she raised an eyebrow. “Anyone wanna spar with me? I could use the practice instead of shadow boxing.”

“Only if you put the lightsaber away. Otherwise it won’t be much of a fair fight,” Hunter joked, walking over to grab two of the wooden staffs that were leaning against some of the weight equipment. Stepping forward, he tossed her one and she caught it above her head, giving it a few experimental spins to test its balance.

“Deal,” she said, a sly grin spreading across her face as she deactivated her blade, clipping her hilt to her belt. Rex and Echo took a seat against the nearest wall while Tech stood at the edge of the padded flooring and Wrecker sat on a weight bench. Senna squared her feet, taking a ready stance as Hunter let the staff dangle at his side, stalking around her confidently.

Rex leaned over to whisper to Echo. “Care to make this interesting?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I’m betting he doesn’t land a hit on her.”

Echo shot him a skeptical look. “Not a one? I think that’s a little overconfident. It is Hunter, and you know how competitive he can get.”

Rex nodded. “Twenty credits?”

“You’re on.”

Just then, Hunter lunged at Senna. She easily sidestepped him, and his swing flew by her. The sergeant tried to redirect his momentum, swinging the staff backhanded towards his target, and again, Senna lightly stepped back and out of the way.

Rex raised an eyebrow at Echo. “Still feeling good about that bet?”

Echo grinned. “He’s got time. He’s testing the water still to see what she’ll do. I’ve got faith in him.”

Hunter was walking slowly around Senna again, and a smirk was tugging at her lips. She squared her feet once more as Hunter stalked behind her. Her eyes drifted over her shoulder, and she swung her hips to the left just as he stabbed at her midriff, releasing her staff with her right hand to wrap her fingers around his wrist and pull him towards her. Hunter stumbled, off balance as she spun him and stepped forward, knocking him on the floor. His weapon clattered away from him as Senna knelt on top of him, pressing her staff to his throat. 

“Got ya,” she teased, tongue poking between her teeth.

Hunter’s face was blank for a moment before the confident glint returned to his eyes. Shifting his weight, he bucked his hips upward, knocking Senna forward. She flipped over the top of him and onto her back as Hunter whirled away from her to grab his staff. Kicking herself back up into a crouched position, Senna brandished her weapon outwards. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” she mocked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not even close, sweetheart,” Hunter rumbled, and he charged forward. His footwork was no longer sloppy and he had adapted to her parries as he pressed her. She retreated backwards, blocking his blows as he continued his advance.

“See, now he’s got her figured out,” Echo whispered. “He’s matching her footwork and fighting style.”

“We’ll see,” Rex said.

They watched as Senna and Hunter sparred, dancing around one another and testing the other’s reactions. Echo was right; Hunter had adjusted, but Senna still had one or two tricks up her sleeves. She was more focused than Rex had ever seen her, more determined. 

“She knows this is just practice, right?” Echo asked after a few minutes. 

Rex glanced at him. “I told you she doesn’t like losing.”

“Is that all this is?” 

“What do you mean?”

Echo leaned closer, lowering his voice. “It seems like there’s something else here. Not just a friendly competition. I don’t know that Senna’s just fighting Hunter right now.” 

Rex sighed. “The Inquisitor caught her off guard.” His mind drifted back to how frustrated she’d been the night Fisk had tried to assault her, anger crackling in his chest despite the months that separated him from that moment. “And she doesn’t like it when… when someone gets the drop on her.” 

“Who else then?” Echo pressed, sensing Rex was holding something back. 

“An Imperial named Fisk. He was on Lothal. She underestimated what he was capable of. And she almost paid dearly for it.” 

He could tell Echo knew him well enough to pull the pieces together, and he saw a similar anger flare in the eyes they shared. His brother’s jaw clenched as he sat back, watching Senna with a very different expression. 

“I’m surprised you let him live.”

“Oh, if I had it my way, he’d be at the bottom of the darkest hole I could find,” Rex gritted out, his fist clenching reflexively. “But she insisted the mission came first.”

“Damn her sensibility,” Echo joked mirthlessly. 

“Yeah,” Rex agreed. “She’s very protective of me. Perhaps too much so. She was willing… to do far too much to keep me safe.” He picked at a cuticle on his index finger. “She almost wouldn’t be with me because she was afraid it would put me in danger.”

“Danger has a way of finding you, Rex,” Echo chuckled.

“That’s what I told her.” 

They fell silent for a few more moments, letting the clacking of Senna and Hunter’s staff echo around the room.  

“I’m glad she wasn’t harmed,” Echo said quietly. “And I’m also glad someone is looking out for you.” 

Before Rex could respond, a frustrated growl from Senna drew his attention back to the sparring session in front of him. Hunter was still pressing Senna towards the edge of the mat when she suddenly dropped to her knees, rotating back behind him. From her kneeling position, Senna went to hit Hunter in the back, but he leapt into the air in a backflip, striking at her as he passed overhead. She reached up and grappled his wrist again, shoving him back farther than he’d anticipated for his landing, forcing him to tuck and roll upon impact. Spinning on her knees to a standing position, Senna advanced. Hunter was still kneeling as she struck at him, the wood cracking together loudly in the quiet of the room. The sergeant was desperately trying to get back to his feet, but Senna’s relentless flurry of blows kept him off balance until finally, he stabbed at her out of desperation and she dodged it, bringing her arm down to lock his sword arm in place while she brought her staff to his throat again and pressed forward, trapping his kneeling leg underneath him. There was no escape this time, and Hunter grinned as he dropped his staff and raised his other hand in surrender. 

“You got me.”

Echo sighed as he fished around in one of his belt pouches before slipping the credits into Rex’s outstretched hand.

“I saw that,” Senna called over her shoulder as she helped Hunter up. “It wasn’t really a fair fight though. I’m going to bet that style of combat isn’t in the training manuals on Kamino.”

“You would be correct,” Tech said from where he’d been standing. “However, some of us did take it upon ourselves to learn the skill.” Setting his datapad on the ground near the wall, he walked over and picked up a staff, twirling it lightly with his wrist.

“You, Tech? Really?” Hunter asked.

“Yes. Why is that shocking?”

“I guess…you know what, nevermind. It’s not. Have at her.” He walked over to slump against the wall and slid down into a seated position next to Rex, wiping his face on the edge of his shirt. “She’s something else.”

Rex bit back a proud grin, some of the tension leaving him as he caught Senna’s eye. “Indeed, she is.”

Tech mirrored Senna with his stance, tucking one hand behind his back as he brandished the staff in front of him. The two slowly circled each other until Senna feinted left, testing Tech’s response. He seemed unphased as he sidestepped her, maintaining his balance and parrying her test strike. Stepping back, he resumed his defensive position, waiting for her next move. She imitated Hunter, stalking around him with her staff hanging at her hip. Tech maintained his defensive position, waiting for her attack. This time, Senna raced towards him, leaping into the air and swiping at Tech’s off shoulder as she flew over him. Tech dropped to his knees, rolling away from her slash and spinning to face her as she landed. Their battle went on for several minutes as they tested each other, Senna poking and prodding at Tech’s defenses and Tech managing to block every blow. Finally, Senna went for a feint and then charged Tech, swinging as he parried her attack. She continued to press forward until Tech suddenly dropped low, kicking her legs out from under her. Senna let out a surprised curse as Tech changed his momentum, stepping forward to grasp her sword arm as she toppled to the ground. He locked his staff with hers, twisting it so she was disarmed and the wooden rod flew across the mat. Holding her arm to his chest, he knelt on her ribs, panting. 

“I do believe I win,” he said evenly. His expression was neutral, but his eyes were glinting triumphantly behind his lenses.

Rex chuckled to himself. 

Oh, she’s going to hate that.

Sure enough, Senna’s hand that Tech had captured by the wrist twitched, and his goggles wiggled on his nose as she tugged at them with the Force. 

“Don’t you dare,” he warned, standing up and releasing her.

“Oh, come on, just a bit of fun,” she teased as he helped her up. To Rex’s surprise, she gave him a light, playful shove. “Well fought, Legs.”

Echo glanced at Rex. “Does she take instruction?”

“At your own risk,” Rex replied. 

“Yeah, well I want her to be prepared too. For Inquisitors or the next sleamo she encounters,” Echo muttered, pushing himself to his feet. “Would you like to know what you did wrong?” he called out.

Senna turned, cocking an eyebrow at him. He shrugged. “I am a strategist. It’s what I do.”

Her face split into a wide smile, and she bowed dramatically. “Enlighten me then, Corporal.”

Echo stepped out onto the mat, his spine straightening and his scomp arm drifting behind his back while he gesticulated with his biological limb. Rex had to fight back a laugh at how serious his little brother became.

If only Fives could see him now. He’d have teased him relentlessly.  

“You shifted your weight too early and got too close to him,” Echo told Senna, who to her credit, was listening attentively. “He’d clearly been waiting on you to do that the entire time, but you just hadn’t gotten overly eager until that last point. Also, you have a tell for when you’re going to step within proximity. It’s slight, but you shift your weight to push off your left foot more so than your right, and you lean your hip outwards.”

“Giving away all my secrets, Echo?” Tech joked dryly, wiping sweat from his brow on his sleeve. “He is correct though. That was exactly my strategy.”

Senna nodded. “Let’s go again then.”

Rex smiled to himself. 

Atta girl.

—

Senna and Tech went for another half an hour before she bested him, and in another hour, she was beating him consistently. At that point, the clones switched things up, having her fight Tech and Hunter at the same time, and when she won those battles, they had Wrecker start chucking small sandbags at her during combat to just add one more thing to dodge. Echo and Rex gave feedback from the sidelines, providing minor corrections to make her less of a predictable fighter, and Senna took each bit of feedback in stride.

I won’t get surprised again. And it’s been a long time since I felt this… right.

Her blood roared in her ears and her muscles burned, but she loved it. She hadn’t sparred, really sparred since her time at the temple. She’d kept herself locked away for so long, and there was clearly rust there, but her progress was evident. Now, when she reached out, she could feel everything around her without having to strain. She wasn’t completely attuned yet, but what had been a struggle a few weeks ago now felt natural again. 

With time. It’ll come back with time. Just gotta be patient.

By the time the sun was starting to sink lower in the sky, Senna felt her stomach rumble, and called a halt to the combat. They were all drenched in sweat, and she could feel blisters starting to form on the bottoms of her feet, but she felt satisfied. Tossing Hunter the staff she’d been working with to be replaced on its rack, she strode up to Rex, wiping her face on her shirt.

He beamed at her. “Well done.”

The compliment made her face feel warm, and she was glad she was already flushed so he couldn’t see its effect. “Thanks. Still not sure I’m where I need to be.”

“But you’re in a better place than you were this morning,” he insisted. 

“I suppose,” she conceded. 

Reaching into his pocket, Rex pulled out the trinket she’d left on his pillow. “By the way, what is this? I found it on your side of the bed this morning.”

It had been a silly, spur-of-of-the-moment idea, and now it felt even more childish with Rex’s confused expression. Senna ducked her head bashfully, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, last time I left while you were sleeping, I don’t think I uuuuh made my feelings very clear. I know it was silly, but I wanted to leave something so you’d know I was thinking of you. In case you got worried.” 

Rex chuckled. “I wasn’t worried. But what is it?” 

Senna took the metal from him, turning it over in her palm. “When I mess up something during a build or repair, sometimes I keep the scrap. Don’t know why, but I kind of like having the mementos. This was a piece of fluid line from the speeder bike on Lothal.” She poked at the ruined metal. “I accidentally fused the two spacers together and messed up the tubing bend a bit, so I just kept it. It was in my pocket the night we had to leave.”

Rex took it back from her, turning it over in his hands with a look of newfound appreciation. He met her eyes. “You’re a bit odd, you know that?”

Senna tipped her head back and laughed at that. “You knew what you were getting into.”

“I did,” he confirmed with a grin. 

Slipping her arm around Rex’s waist, Senna turned to recommend they all go get food, but before she could utter a word, Bail Organa walked briskly into the room with his head aide and two guardsmen. Senna stiffened at his appearance. The senator was nervous and winded, as if he’d half-run here. Rex noticed too. She felt his hand rest protectively on her shoulder. Organa glanced around, clearly glad they were all in one place before he spoke. 

“I’m afraid we have a problem.”

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[gloomwitchwrites]

Cantina Mistake

Hunter (Bad Batch) x Female Reader

Content & Trigger Warnings: fluff, humor, misunderstanding, mistaken identity, brief mention of alcohol

Word Count: 986

A misidentification of a target lands Hunter in a messy entanglement on the floor of a cantina.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // fluffuary 2024 masterlist

The lights are low in the cantina. It is dark, and the only source of illumination are the purple neon lights and bright ads that run the length of walls. Some of it is Imperial Propaganda, but the majority of it pushes new products or services.

This cantina is a routine spot. A place to rest and recharge. A layover between jobs for Cid.

But there is also someone they’re supposed to look out for. Cid was not specific, giving the specs to Tech instead of Hunter, but even Tech seemed a bit confused by the instructions, insisting that the briefing held very little descriptive information on the target.

Hunter leans against the bar, arms crossed, a drink clasped in one hand. Surveying the large room, he finds nothing of particular interest. Everyone in the bar is preoccupied with something, and no one appears on edge or suspicious.

Omega is not here. Hunter usually doesn’t allow her to come. She is on the ship with Gonky. Hopefully she’s sleeping and not staying up late to tinker with one of Echo or Tech’s little projects. Omega loves picking things up to understand and explore how they work. She’s constantly looking over someone’s shoulder asking an absurd number of questions.

Wrecker is arm wrestling for credits in the corner, taking on every drunkard who thinks they can unseat him. It’s amusing because no one is going to win. Not against Wrecker. Even the droid that takes a seat before the big guy goes down quickly. Wrecker lifts his arms up high, punching the air.

“It seems we’ll be eating well tonight because of Wrecker,” notes Tech, adjusting his goggles.

Hunter smiles into his cup and takes a long drink. Whatever it is, it’s kriffing strong, burning as it goes down.

“Won’t matter if we can’t locate the target,” mutters Echo.

Tech shrugs. “Cid’s instructions were unclear. Even after calculating all possibilities, I am at a loss for what or who we’re looking for.”

Echo glances across the bar and smirks.

“What is it?” prompts Hunter, turning in the direction of Echo’s lingering gaze.

Tech pushes off from the bar to glance around Hunter, peering in the same direction, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“You don’t see it?” asks Echo.

Hunter frowns and turns back to Echo. “No,” he says, a little annoyed. “I don’t see it.”

Tech matches Echo’s smirk with one of his own. “I do believe that woman is watching us.”

“Watching Hunter,” corrects Echo, sipping on his drink before setting it down on the bar.

Hunter whirls around, searching every face in the cantina for a second time. He doesn’t see what they see, and that only frustrates him. Aren’t his heightened senses supposed to help him in situations like this one? What if this woman is the target Cid is sending them after? Hunter needs to be alert. He needs to kriffing focus.

But then a tug forms in the back of his head. Like a string tied to his brain, pulling taut, dragging his attention toward the far side of the room. Hunter sees you then, lingering near a table. Alone. You are alone and fiddling with your drink, perhaps out of nervousness. If anything, you appear rather innocent. Just a civilian. But years of military training and field experience tell Hunter that he cannot leave anything to chance.

Sometimes the most innocent and demure individuals can be the deadliest.

“Could be the target?” jokes Echo, shaking his glass slightly in the air.

Tech’s mouth opens slightly as he turns to his brother, a response forming on his lips, a bemused expression on his face.

But Hunter is not listening. Hunter is moving like his namesake, weaving through the crowd, gunning for you.

“Hunter!” calls out Tech, but Hunter ignores him.

You’re looking down at the table, not realizing that Hunter is closing in fast. He silently urges you to look up. He wants you to notice him. To know that he’s coming. That he is on to you.

When you do glance up, and your gazes lock, there is a brief flash surprise that passes over your face before it morphs into shock.

Hunter leaps, tackling you to the ground. Everyone standing around shrieks or yells, stumbling out of the way. His chest heaves, and your faces are so close. Your eyes are wide and round and—

Wait.

“Hunter!”

He’s straddling your hips. Hunter has your arms trapped above your head, both wrists locked under one large hand while the other rests against the base of your throat. You are stiff and unsure beneath him, eyes darting in their sockets.

“Hunter. Hunter get off of her.” It’s Tech.

Echo is right behind him, alarm on his face. “I was kidding, Hunter.”

“Kidding?” splutters Hunter.

“I meant a target to buy a drink for,” replies Echo, hands outstretched at his sides.

Oh. Oh kriffing hell.

Hunter looks down at you. “Sorry,” he murmurs softly, swinging his leg from over your hip. “I’m sorry,” he says louder, more quickly, holding out his hands in an offer to help you off the floor. You take them and your palms are so warm.

Hunter eases you off the cantina floor, and then delicately assists you to standing.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. You’re just as perplexed. Just as startled.

You laugh, and the sound is lovely. “How about you buy me a drink?” You nod toward the overturned table. Hunter immediately grimaces. “You spilled my last one.”

“Sorry about that,” mutters Hunter. He holds out his hand as if a simple handshake will fix everything. “I’m Hunter.

You clasp it, shake it, give him your name.

Tech and Echo start creeping backward, giving the two of you space. Wrecker comes barreling over but the two clones hurriedly herd him away before he can make the situation worse.

“Now, how about that drink?”

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[jedi-order-apologist]

A Magician, Yoda is Not

After a disaster relief mission, Yoda entertains some local children. Written for Fandom Empire Prompt Tables 2024 - Prompt: "Magic"

Read on AO3

“Your assistance has been greatly appreciated, Master Jedi,” the mayor said, with the utmost sincerity. The avalanche had been devastating, overpowering their safeguards and destroying half of their capital city. Rescue organizations and crews had arrived quickly after the request for help had gone out, but even with all their tireless hard work, things would have gone a lot differently without the aid of the Jedi, who could sense where people were trapped more quickly and accurately than the most sophisticated rescue droids, could predict and could lift snow and debris with their minds.

Many lives had been lost in the initial disaster, but so many more had been trapped, their survival entirely dependent on how quickly they could be reached and given medical attention. For many of those people, the involvement of the Jedi was that very difference between life and death.

There were so many more people saved today than the mayor could have ever imagined hoping for.

“You have our gratitude, and our friendship,” he continued, “and if there is any way we can repay you, you have but to name it.”

“Glad to be of service, we are,” Master Yoda said. “No reward do we require. But if offered, your friendship is, then glad we are to accept. No greater reward, could there be.”

A group of young children ran up to them. Not ones who had been rescued – they would still be receiving medical attention if they were – but children who had had family members and friends trapped, or knew someone who did, and had helped in whatever way they could, running comms between rescue teams, bringing food and water where it was needed, etc.

As such, they had witnessed the Jedi’s help as well.

“Show us your magic again!” one of them begged Yoda.

“It was amazing!”

“Please! Do some magic!”

The mayor frowned. They were children and didn’t know any better, of course, but he knew that the Jedi didn’t call their talents “magic”, so it seemed disrespectful to call it as such, even if it might as well have been to his eyes.

“I apologize…” he started to say to Yoda, but the Jedi had a twinkle in his eyes, and made the slightest shake of his head, so the mayor fell silent, and watched as Yoda turned to face the children.

“Magic?” he asked, with a teasing tone. “Magic, I know not. A magician, I saw once. Pull a coin from your ear, he could, and turn a scarf into a bird. Very impressive, it was. Offered his audience a turn, he did. Very bad at it, I was. Better at magic, I think, you would be, than old Yoda!”

The children were unconvinced.

“We saw you!” the first said.

“You lifted all the snow and ice!”

“The wind, it could have been,” Yoda said.

“The wind doesn’t lift up people,” another child said, matter-of-factly.

“Hmph! Say that, you do, but floating, you are!” Yoda said.

The children all looked down, realizing that in fact, their feet were no longer on the ground. They shrieked with delighted laughter, and two of them reached out to spin the third around in mid-air, to the amusement of all three.

“See?” Yoda said, “The wind, it was.”

“No, you’re doing this!” one of the children accused, giggling.

“Know what you’re talking about, I do not.”

“Yes, you do!”

“The mayor knows you’re doing it, too, right, Mr. Mayor?”

The mayor was a little taken aback by the question, unsure how he should respond. It was, of course, obvious that Master Yoda was lifting the children, but it was also clear that he was playing a game with them.

“I’m...afraid this is out of my area of expertise,” he said, finally.

The child pouted at him, but quickly bounced back to cheerfulness as the three of them floated higher into the air. It would have been alarming if the mayor had not completely trusted Yoda to keep them safe.

Slowly, the children were brought back down to the ground, only mildly disappointed to be back on their own feet.

“Thank you, Mr. Jedi! That was fun!”

“I always wanted to fly,” another said.

“Good-bye, Mr. Jedi!”

The three children ran off, and Yoda chuckled.

“Joy,” he said, “for the children, easy it is, to be found. Good, it is, to play. A relief from worries, it is.”

And, well, the mayor, even being of a more serious disposition himself, couldn’t argue with that.

[arcsimper5]

Hi there, may I please request a scenario where Cody gets extremely distracted by an attractive, curvy/thick woman with large breasts, dressed in a beautiful, yellow-gold dress with a DEEP plunging neckline and it's not just her body that's distracting him; it was everything from her lips, her smile, to her eyes, her skin and her hair. His Vods want just want to drink the night away, but he ditches them in favor of getting to know her. They end up chatting/flirting; his attraction for her only grows the more he makes her smile and flirt back. Up to you whether you wanna make it get steamy or not; thank you either way.🌼

Hello my lovely anon!

Thank you for the request, I thought this through quite a bit, and have decided this will be a two-parter :P

Please enjoy part one below. Part two will be coming soon, and there will be spice included ;)

Title: Knowing - Part 1 Pairing: Cody x F!OC (not named, AFAB, very vague description) Warnings: Language, people being a-holes to Clones, minor physical violence.

Cody wasn’t sure he had a type until that night.

Just another shore leave that had rolled around after what felt like an eternity. With Obi-Wan attending the Jedi Council and all the flimsiwork that had been thrown his way done, it was a truly rare occasion when he could meet up with his brothers, his batchmates and friends, and let loose. Just a little.

He was still a Marshall Commander after all, something that was abundantly clear as he entered 79’s still in his armour, sans helmet (though it remained clipped to his belt). The moment he was noticed, the noise dimmed somewhat, though only for a few minutes. 

By the time he’d made it to the bar and ordered a drink, the frivolities were back in full swing, the energy surging through everyone, clones and natborns alike, setting the scene for a night of excess.

And Cody couldn’t deny, he could do with a chance to let loose.

The last few campaigns had been too close for comfort. Too many brothers lost to the fighting, too many odds stacked against them. Every time they went on deployment, it hit him harder; one day, he wasn’t going to return.

There would be no more 79’s, no more shore leave, no more taking risks and breaking rules for the chance of a sliver of happiness.

Mumbling his order to the service droid behind the bar, he was so lost in his maelstrom of thoughts when he finally received his drink that his senses failed him, awareness lost to the self imposed despair running rampant in his mind, and he completely failed to notice the civvy stood behind him until it was too late.

He turned sharply, colliding with the figure, who let out a surprised yelp, the shock sending him reeling backwards for a moment before he found his balance once more.

“I am so sorry,” he began, shaking his head to bring himself back into the moment. The crowd around him and his victim had parted, giggles and gasps barely audible over the music. Taking a deep breath, Cody looked up, meeting the eyes of the stranger he’d just bumped into, ready to apologise once more.

And then his brain stopped working.

Stood in front of him, the smooth, tanned skin of her chest dripping with the cheap beer he’d ordered, was the most beautiful woman Cody had ever laid eyes on.

She was tall, a few inches on him even, though he suspected the glittery heels she was sporting aided that, draped in a figure hugging gold and white dress that accentuated her curves, her body full and thick in a way that made his mouth water.

The dress was sleeveless, the neckline of the delicate material plunging sharply over her cleavage, exposing the swells of her breasts just enough so as not to allow for any accidental slips.

It was her chest that Cody found himself staring at suddenly, watching rivulets of the golden liquid he’d just picked up seeping downwards, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“I…” he began, lifting his gaze up to meet a pair of intense, wide eyes, desperately trying to find the words to apologise to this beautiful creature. But any sentiment he might have expressed was cut off suddenly by a shove, the woman pushed to one side by another, shorter and thinner person, another human, though this one had a snarl on her face and narrowed eyes.

“Stupid kriffing clone,” she spat, glaring at Cody as he tried to gather himself. He stumbled a little, his back colliding with the bar, “why don’t you watch where you’re going, huh?”

“Sariah, it was an accident!”

The woman he’d spilt his drink on grabbed the other’s arm, attempting to pull her away. But this Sariah was having none of it.

“Probably did it on purpose,” she snarled, jabbing a finger against Cody’s chestpiece, “they’re all like that. Soak you, follow you to the bathroom and get you alone. Then…”

“Sariah!”

The woman seemed displeased with her friend’s behaviour, grabbing her harder and pulling her away from Cody, her own gaze narrowed.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Sariah huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, “you can’t trust these meat droids. They only want one thing, other than killing, that is.”

“That’s enough!”

The woman’s shout echoed over the music, an authoritative tone to it that had Cody feeling very warm all of a sudden. The swell of noise in the club dipped once more, as it had done when he arrived, attention turning to the woman.

“I’ve just about had it with all the shit you come out with!” the woman growled at Sariah, who stared at her in disbelief, “I told you before we left, any of this crap from you and we were done. You don’t know what it’s like out there. This was supposed to change your views, to show you how amazing these guys are.”

“I’m not fucking a meat droid,” Sariah sneered, the expression completely wiped from her face as the woman raised one perfectly manicured hand and slapped her across the face, sending her stumbling backwards.

“Don’t fucking call them that!”

SIlence descended over the club as everyone waited for Sariah to react, her own hand coming up to clutch at her face where she’d been hit. She looked equal amounts furious and scared as the woman Cody had bumped into towered over her, her shoulders squared, making her look even bigger than she had before.

“You… Fuck you!” Sariah finally whimpered, tears gathering in her eyes, “Enjoy getting assaulted by these… things. And lose my comm. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” the woman spat, turning her back on Sariah as she moved easily through the crowd, clones and natborns alike parting to make a clear line to the door.

Another moment of silence followed, the doors to 79’s slamming shut seconds before the crowd turned back to the woman, watching and waiting.

Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile to her face, looking around awkwardly.

“Well?” she asked to no-one inparticular, her voice echoing around in the tense silence, “Is this a club or a morgue?”

A cacophony of cheers erupted, the music swinging back into life, bodies moving and bustling and gyrating again in moments. Breathing a sigh of relief, she finally turned back to Cody, meeting his gaze and giving him a weak smile.

“Uh, sorry…” “Sorry…”

They both spoke at the same time, eyes widening for a moment before they both let out a laugh, shaking their heads at each other.

“I’m Cody,” he offered softly, offering her a hand, “and I am sorry for spilling my drink on you.”

“No harm done,” the woman smiled warmly, “nothing that I can’t dry off.” She motioned to the droid behind the bar, a roll of disposable wipes presented to her within moments.

Diligently cleaning her chest, she quickly disposed of the roll and the soiled pieces on the bar, the droid removing them and bringing her a cocktail over, nodding when she murmured something else to it.

“I’m, uh, sorry about your friend, too,” he winced, noting how she didn’t even flinch, simply shrugging.

“Not a loss,” she admitted, “we only met a few weeks ago. She’s my friend’s sister, thought I’d show her around Coruscant, seeing as she’s new here. Couldn’t give a kriff about anyone with views like that.”

Cody’s face warmed as he recalled her anger at them being referred to as ‘meat-droids’. It wasn’t uncommon, but having someone, let alone a natborn defend them? That definitely was.

“I, uh, didn’t catch your name,” Cody smiled awkwardly as she turned back, her cocktail and another beer in hand. His eyes widened a little more as she pressed the beer into his hand, catching him off guard.

“I owed you one,” she winked, “and I didn’t give it.”

“Oh,” he murmured numbly, blinking a few times. Suddenly he didn’t feel like a Marshall Commander. He felt like a shiny, fresh and new, unsure how to navigate this situation, “I… uh…”

“Call me ‘My Lady’,” she purred, leaning forward to practically whisper in his ear, sending a shudder through him, “if you like. We’ll see if you get to earn my name, pretty boy.”

“P-Pretty… What?” he stammered, eliciting a giggle from her plump lips.

Maker, it had gotten hot all of a sudden, his armour feeling too tight all over, particularly underneath his codpiece.

“Want to grab a table?”

It was barely a suggestion as she looped her arm through his, guiding him towards one of the booths in the back. He offered no resistance, trying to get to grips with the situation.

‘Come on, Cody, you’re better than this! She’s gorgeous, she’s kriffing beautiful! Stop making a fool of yourself.’

“I… I’m a Marshall Commander,” he blurted out as they reached the booth, slipping inside the secluded area. It became all the more intimate as she pulled the curtain across, giving them more privacy from the surging movement of the dancefloor.

“That so?” she hummed in amusement, watching as Cody flushed bright red, oblivious to the way he cursed himself internally.

“Uh, yeah. 212th.”

“Oh, General Kenobi,” she nodded sagely, still grinning a little, “good man. Little uptight for my liking, but a fantastic strategist.”

“You… know him?” Cody asked a little too loudly, taken aback. The woman simply nodded, sipping at her cocktail before placing it back onto the table between them.

“I know all of the Jedi. Being a GAR liaison has its advantages.”

Oh kriff. Kriff, kriff, kriff.

A GAR liaison officer, one of the most senior natborn ranks there was. This woman, this stunning, beautiful woman, had to be a Commander at least, his equal, or maybe even higher ranking.

“I… uh…”

“Hey…”

Her voice softened as she leant over the table, reaching to take his hand in hers. He watched, dumbfounded as she stroked her delicate fingers over the back of his gloved hand, cursing the layers that separated him from feeling her skin on his.

“I know what you’re thinking. This isn’t a trick or a trap. Some people in the GAR might not see you as human, but I do. I know the fraternisation rules, and I don’t care. We all need to let loose sometimes.”

Cody, once again, felt far out of his depth, unsure what to say in response, simply staring at her hand as it drew lazy patterns into his glove, this throat bobbing as he swallowed hard again, processing her words.

“If you want me to leave you be, to disappear and forget this ever happened,” she offered slowly, “I can and will. I don’t want you to feel like you have to spend any time with me. But I have to say, Cody…” He shivered at the way she practically purred his name, “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, and would be interested in getting to know you… maybe seeing where it goes from there…”

Looking up at her in amazement, Cody could only nod, slowly turning his hand over and lacing his fingers with hers. He was still nervous, hells, his heart was practically beating out of his chest, but there was something in her gaze that kept him rooted to the spot, a softness to her gaze as she looked him over.

As her lips turned up into a brilliant smile, his heart fluttered.

This was bad… Or was it?

Please comment and reblog! It helps my writing no end and is very appreciated!

[sullustangin]

New Chapter: The Secrets We Keep, Part I

Rating: T

Pairing: Theron Shan x Smuggler

Quick Quote:

“Did we pick up any hangers on?” Eva asked Theron as she keyed in the launch sequence on the MK-II shuttle.  Theron had called ahead for clearance to take off.

Theron secured the door shut behind him.  “You were right – nobody notices you.”

Eva raised her hands to gesture at herself, a little grandly.  “As advertised, just another brunette in the galaxy.  But I was right about the tinsel.”

Theron nodded.  “On me from VIP lounge lift exit to where we rendezvous’ed.  Fortunately, you are exceptionally pretty,” Theron corrected her.  “It was very easy for me to throw them off.” 

Eva flashed a quick smile at him before her attention was back on the launch.  “Your sacrifice for the cause has been noted.  Any idea who they were working for?” 

“Based on their mistakes, Hutts.”  Theron came to stand next to her in the narrow confines of the nose of the cockpit.  “They flaked once we… were thoroughly invested in each other.  Same prudishness we saw at Katalla.”

Eva ran a hand over the running lights, making sure all the switches locked into place and went green.  “You saw the poorly disguised Mando in the cantina?”

“Wasn’t meant for us.”  Eva turned back slightly to give Theron a look.  He waved a hand at her – he wasn’t telling her who he thought it was until they were clear of Carrick.  “Was more worried about the droid server who kept missing orders.”  Theron raised a finger.  “That, I think, might have been SIS, given how poorly it was executed.  They never fully appreciate astromechs.”

“Glad I made the little guy deaf after his pass by our table – tipped him right into the audio sensor with some Calamari flan I had in a pocket.” 

Theron laughed as Eva plopped herself down into the pilot’s seat.  “Just so happens I made him blind once I noticed that his service pattern deviated when I walked in.”

~~

They're baaaaack doing missions... even they are low-stakes, like supply runs to Fleet.

[sw5w]

Artoo-Detoo

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:25:57

[impossibleprincess35]

Asphodel | ch 41

[Excerpt:]

They were eye-to-eye as he approached, and with only a polite distance between them, Satine smiled and watched as he bowed, handsome as always, though encumbered by a most excessive display of armor. Clutching a small teal bag in her hands, she lowered her head in return and crooned, “Good evening, General Kenobi.”

Her hand outstretched, as was expected, and he took it in his own, lifting it to his lips to place a soft kiss upon her knuckles. “You look astoundingly celestial, your grace,” he said with his lips curling into a small smile.

Their hands came apart in the busy, populated room, and Obi-Wan gestured with his arm out for her to lead the way out into a quieter, less bustling area where they could speak without obstructing others. They had perfected the art of meeting in public, appearing friendly but not personal, flirtatious but not familiar, though in the time that had passed since their confessions aboard her ship, things were different.

There were many sets of eyes in the room that knew or suspected they were more than just old acquaintances catching up after long periods of no contact, including the curious Chancellor Palpatine.

A service droid puttered nearby and Satine turned, but it was Obi-Wan who predicted her move based on habit and retrieved a flute of champagne for her.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” he murmured as he passed it to her.

She shrugged haphazardly, slinking her weight from hip to hip as she stood in her backless gown of golden silk, and she sipped the bubbly drink lightly. “Sometimes I enjoy surprising you.”

The Jedi reached up for his beard and stroked it as he narrowed his eyes at her playfully and remarked, “A lovely surprise it is. How are you?”

Satine took in the room in a casual glance, pretending to be aloof and undevoted to him as they socialized, but when she returned her pale blue eyes to him, her gaze softened and she said, “I am very well, but it is yo-”

“Duchess!” 

The sound of a colleague summoning her interrupted the moment, and Satine turned to see one of her fellow constituents in the Council of Neutral Systems approaching. Her eyes darted to Obi-Wan apologetically and she whispered, “Sorry, Ben,” as she wordlessly told him that she was here not for him, but for Mandalore.

She was here to work, to network, to discuss matters of great importance, and there were obligations to be met. The Council of Neutral Systems was floating through the crowds, striking up conversation with senators who were sympathetic to the concerns of trade embargoes. If their own leader was not doing her part, why should they do theirs?

In response, he gave her a firm nod and softly said, “I understand.”

“Find me later,” she mouthed before she turned to attend to her wanting colleague.

--

Chapter 41 is up.

[neonthewrite]

Learning to be Friendly

Today's prompt "Rainy Day", brought me back to the cyberpunk au featuring Elias Dawn and their little android buddy. Fifty is coming right along with learning how to be a good friend, and Elias is coming to really appreciate having him around.

Previous stories:

Error 50 | Personal Assistant

~~~

The rain used to mean so much. El used to feel it, used to be able to follow the progress of every drop from the cloud to the ground. From gentle drizzles to raucous storms, they had once had a grasp on it all. Storms, weather, the balance of energies between the sky and the earth, that had been theirs.

And somewhere deep inside, they supposed, it still was. But ever since their hands had been numbed, so many of their other senses had fallen dim too. 

“I anticipate this rain will let up within the hour,” came the small, somewhat tinny voice from their shoulder. Fifty was a slight weight there, originally made of sturdy but lightweight metals and wiring for the easiest portability. El imagined his original specs had seemed quite luxurious for whoever had paid for the little assistant droid. He’d still ended up down in the scrapyards, though. El doubted he even realized he’d been rescued.

El smiled and turned away from the grimy window, the one view from the attic level of the small shack they’d broken into for shelter. “Oh yeah? You manage to connect to the weather network, Fifty?” they asked, trying to catch sight of the small droid standing on their shoulder.

The small droid, only six inches or so tall, had a surprising sense of balance where he stood. He barely wavered from El’s normal movements; his little gyroscopes must be in top shape despite his consignment to the scraps. He had his hands clasped politely behind his back. He shook his head. “I have not attempted to connect to the forecast network,” he admitted matter-of-factly. “I am equipped with predictive algorithms in case of offline needs. As you have expressed reluctance to connect to the government-sanctioned networks, I have refrained. This is friendly behavior, correct?”

El grinned. They reached up to gently brush a fingertip over the small swoop of metal meant to mimic a tidy hairstyle atop Fifty’s head. “Good man, Fifty. Only independent education networks, just to be safe.”

As Fifty lifted a hand to thoughtfully touch his head, El found themself drawn back to the window, staring out from where they sat leaning against the wall. They’d used a lot of energy climbing the service ladder out of the scrap level, and it was a wonder they hadn’t dozed off. The rain, an unexpected little reprieve from the harsh sun glancing off all the glass and metal of the city above, had invigorated them in some small, distant way that they almost forgot existed.

“El,” Fifty spoke up again, his little voice quieter than before, but using that almost programmed friendliness that probably came with his artificial voice. “I have some questions. They are not related, and I do not anticipate I will find them in the educational databases. May we discuss them?”

El smirked faintly. “Sure, Fifty. Come here.” They offered a palm at their shoulder, and once the small droid stepped onto it, ferried him around to face him better. “I’ll do my best to answer.”

Fifty nodded and placed his little hands over his chest where his heart would be if he were organic. Instead, El imagined the small power crystal somewhere beneath the layers of doll clothes and metal plating. “I am grateful, El. My first question: I do not see you without your gloves often. Why is this? My second question: Are you … saddened … by the rain?”

El stared at him thoughtfully. Sometimes, depending on the dim lighting the odd pair found themselves in, a faint blue reflection shone on Fifty’s metal plating, indicating El’s constantly-glowing eye. It was a constant reminder that they were truly an unlikely pair, and yet there they were together. El had suggested that Fifty could be their friend; asking casual questions about someone fell into that category.

“Saddened,” El repeated, intrigued by the little droid’s choice of get-to-know-you questions.

Fifty held up a hand with one finger extended to aid their prompt explanation. “A state of having been made unhappy by something.”

El snickered. “I gotcha, buddy. I was echoing you while I thought about it.” They didn’t mind explaining the nuances of conversation to the little droid, even if something like that might seem obvious. If nothing else, they wanted to see how much of it would stick in the little guy’s understanding of socializing.

“Understood!” Fifty said, his little green eye lights flickering in acknowledgement. “I await the response.”

And he did seem content to wait for however long it took. El only took a short moment to figure out how much he wanted to say. It wasn’t like the little droid had any loyalty to someone else. “Your questions are actually related, Fifty. Even if they don’t seem like they are. But before I give you the answer, I need you to promise you’ll keep it a secret.”

Fifty straightened, if it was even possible from his already prim and proper posture. “Of course, El. To reveal information given in confidence would be unfitting behavior for a friend.”

El nodded. “Exactly.” Then, they brought their free hand to their mouth to grip the glove with their teeth. Tugging it free, they revealed their hand and arm, where their brown skin was shiny and warped with layered burn scars. After spitting their glove to the side, they brought their hand close to their still-covered hand, palm up to mirror it. “My hands don’t have much feeling left in them. The gloves and bracers are to protect them from getting hurt without me noticing the damage.”

Fifty stared at El’s scarred hand for a moment before cautiously stepping across the gap between their hands, alighting on the bare palm. As they’d said, El barely felt the little footsteps. Fifty looked up from his small metal feet, and though he couldn’t make expressions on his face, El imagined an expectant look. “And the rain? How is its effect on your emotions related to these scars?”

El’s next smile was a little less beaming than usual. “I used to be able to feel the rain. Not like someone feels it falling on them, getting them soaked. It used to be a connection I had to different weather stuff. And the same people that caused my hands to be burned and numbed also numbed my connection to the rain. It’s still there, but it’s harder to reach. That’s why the rain makes me a little sad. But I still love it.”

Fifty took that in for several quiet, still seconds. The patter of the rain on the window made the backdrop of his processing. Finally, he held out his hands placatingly. “I am sorry about these things, El. I am also sorry for asking such sensitive questions. That was not friendly.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” El laughed. “You didn’t know, and I don’t mind you learning these things about me. You’ve been a good friend.”

Fifty paused again, and then turned his attention up to the window. “I am glad I’ve been a good friend. May I stand near the window? I would like to watch the rain with you, and understand the way it makes you feel. If you are willing to tell me more.”

El shifted where they sat, but something like gratitude crossed their face. “Sure, buddy. Let’s watch the rain together.”

[luimagines]

Fck it Droid AU headcanons? Or just a small thing with Skydroid / Twidroid?

Droid au lives on forever

Let’s introduce the rest of the boys

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Sky

Model SKYLNK

Programmed to be a domestic droid

Babysitter, cook, butler

Tutors the small children, watches over them, and takes care of pets as well

Due to it’s softer programming, when working in the public, it tends to work in bedside manner

Like nurses and nannies

The kind to work in hospitals and elderly living

Not necessarily the newest model on the block, but is one of the most affordable one

Commonly seen in the homes of the middle class

This droid is known for having very little drive deviate from orders

There’s very little facial expressions for newer models

Some, however, have been seen to mimic the facial expressions of the people they serve due to the acclimating programming naturally found in all droids 

The droid is built for handy work around the house

But not designed for hard labor or any heavy lifting

Perfect designed to keep things moving smoothly through the unit it’s assigned to

However- newer models have been seen to come with relationship programming (a new project from Hylia.Inc) 

Further development is yet to be seen

Time

Model TIMLNK

One of the few adults droids on the market

Versatile for many upgrades and job applications

Heavy work? Built for it

Domestic droid? On it

Teacher, hospital nurse, secretary? Just download the needed package for him to take on what job you need him to do

There are certain things that maybe a bit awkward for him to do

Like translating or babysitting

But it works in a pinch

Also sought out as a companionship droid

Takes on a lot of brunt work

While he has a lot of packages that came with time (ha), he is used more for heavy work, like cargo or supply shipments

Isn’t so much for public availability despite the company’s best efforts to expand his roles in society

Not very expressive due to the shift in attention when he was being designed

This is probably why he’s not bought for public use even if he can do the jobs

But he is programmed to be hard working and the robotic equivalent to compassionate 

So this guy never really stops working if the data received can be interpreted as contributing

Legend

Model LGNLNK

Teenage Domestic droid

Known for it’s extensive programming

In the highest demand due to the versatile talents that goes into him

Is used beyond domestic circumstances

Is typically found in place of a translator for political or high standing communal events

Can cook

Clean

Teach

Can directly call emergency services 

Known for the original intention of keeping younger children company or for acting as a Jiminy Cricket for older children

Also originally advertised for older couples who wanted a younger energy in their empty nest

As since branched out to include the other features and is the more commonly seen droid out in public

Also the most customizable out of all of the publicly made droids

Is the only droid available beyond national borders

Other, more advanced models are in progress

Hyrule

Model TRVLNK

A multi-purpose droid

Designed for human relation work or bedside manner

Typically a nurse droid

But not designed for domestic use

Is designed with high grade professional use in mind

Is commonly found in nursing homes or in children’s hospitals

Is also a part of public staff in very highly populated common areas

Like carnivals and amusement parks and zoos and museums and the like

Also acts as tour guide in many other places where travel agencies send tourists for their holiday vacations

Is one of the few droids on the market that can connect to GPS

When droids begin to start working for the public division, they were at first found in buses, driving people from destination to destination

Naturally this upset many people and bus use fell around 19%

But with time people got used to it’s features and the buses ran on time for a change

Not to mention his pleasant demeanor and over all cheerful disposition in his programming made this model likable by many who had to see him on a day to day basis

Four

Model FSWLNK

Meant to be the successor to the WNDLNK model

Used as a child support droid

But also a family companion for lonely, childless adults who want youthful energy in the household

Because of his youthful appearance but older programming, this model tends to be used for public service more so than private ownership

Even if this model is seen nearly in every family friendly public space, there are a few who do accompany children as a family owned appliance

The reason he’s more corporately owned than privately is because he is also used as a child safety surveillance system

Like at public places where children can easily be lost

Like at the zoo, museum, festival, carnival, you name it

They are looking for kids without supervision or who appear to be in danger

It took a lot of training to get that programming even marginally successful

Because they need a lot of of the droids on surveillance, they tend to wear different colored uniforms so people can identify what job that specific droid is doing

Can also be found in child counseling offices or therapy clinics (physical therapy included)

One of the more easy going personality programs

Easy to get along with and easy to like

Is programmed to work with multiple units despite the success in privately owned facilities

Wild

Model CALLNK

Meant for high paced, highly demanding work

A public service droid by nature

Meant to work in the police force

Also found in office facilities 

Or a high scale kitchen where orders have to leave in the matter of minutes

Used as a security droid in a lot of places as well

But more so as a security droid for high profile individuals

Meant to defend and protect no matter the cost

Even if it includes damage to self in the process

Not very expressive in nature

Due to the difficulties and intricacies in programming, they forgo any need for there to be a personal expression in this particular model

So he’s always straight faced no matter what the circumstances are

It’s very unusual for this model to be found in the private or commercial sector

As mentioned before those who use this model for private use are high profile people and people with money

One of the most expensive models on the market

Very few even know he exists

Wind

Model WNDLNK

Child Domestic Droid

One of the first models made by Hylia.INC

Made as an support companion

Later tweaked for homes where children are wanted but not available for whatever reason

As support companions they were designed to help children with special needs, whatever it may be

From reminding children to take their medicine on time, to helping them keep to a schedule and remembering chores as well as simply being emotional support 

The concept was at first a personified tablet

But later on, newer models became more life like and more attuned for family life

Even more later on, they were designed for aforementioned concept of lonely adults who wanted to have children without the cost or mess or real children (Take that as you will)

Is sensitive to temperature

Occasionally feels “hunger” to simulate taking care of another human

Very playful in nature

Few models can be seen in schools with a little more money to float around, helping children where Paras are hard to find

Typically used in school with younger children as the older ones tend to be a little put off by his young appearance

A people pleasure by default, but no one knows if it’s based on his programming or on his need to see though with his missions for the day

Warrior

Model WARLNK

Consort Droid- built for relationships

Has been used for espionage purposes

Doubles as a security droid as well

Is seen typically working a desk job as well

Secretary models, am I right?

Someone has to handle all the forms and PAs and meetings and names and appointments

Not just desk jobs, but also customer service

Is very much used for the public service

Only the rich have it for personal use since it would have added features regarding said spy ware and filtrations mannerisms

Or just to have a pretty thing around

Some people are into that so he’s also for them

Service with a smile~

(potential angst for android War? Definitely.) 

That being said, due the upgraded systems used for both security work and espionage

WARLNK models have also been integrated into public police forces

Public opinion varies heavily on either side

But their effectiveness cannot be ignored when investigating a crime scene

Twilight

Model TWILNK

Heavy work load droid

Handy man is all aspects

Meant to be put to work

Known from farms to construction sites

Programmed to be very loyal to the cause

Lives to serve so to speak

Needs to receive feed back to know if it’s contributing to the community

While not the typical domestic droid, some houses have been known to have a model or two around

Some companies rent out their models to the common folk to help with renovations, or moving, or landscaping, or plumbing- even electrical work

In this au, a lot work for “Got Junk?” 

There has been the one in a million celebrity that has managed to find customization locals and renovate the model to be that of an escort droid

But that’s a very expensive process

And frankly, it’s easier to change the hardware than the software

Is also the occasional nursing droid

Known to be working in nursing homes and independent living units, where it might be required to lift an entire body as dead weight for whatever reason

Is the strongest droid on the market

[burnwater13]

IG-11 walking through the lava river on Nevarro, while Imperial Stormtroopers line each side of the river, aiming at him and his travel companions (out of frame). Image from The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 8, Redemption. Calendar by DateWorks.

Grogu sometimes wished that he was like a droid and had logic circuits that he had to follow rigorously. Circuits that would tell him when to start something new, when to stop something that wasn't working, and when to sacrifice himself for everyone he cared about. IG-11 had been able to do that and Grogu wanted to be able to that too. 

Not just sacrifice himself. Nope. He hoped to live for a very long time. Grogu wanted to keep the Mandalorian company and then help raise Djarin's children and grandchildren and great grandchildren, and on and on, until a person with dark curly hair and deep brown eyes, and that dimple when they smiled, said a final goodbye to him as he became one with the Force. That was his favorite version of the future.

Grogu knew that to achieve a future like that he needed to be more like IG-11 and less like, well, anyone else, including himself. He needed to make logical decisions. He needed to take action promptly. He needed to assess situations dispassionately. He needed not to act like almost any human he'd ever met. 

Well, maybe he could act a bit more like Fennec Shand because she was almost as logical as the IG unit had been. She didn't just race into danger like Bo-Katan Kryze had on Mandalore. She always planned her escape route at the same time she planned her entry strategy, unlike poor Kuiil who hadn’t been able to get that darn blurrg to go any faster. There was no way they could out run Imps on speeder bikes. 

On the other hand, Kuiil had been the one who had reprogrammed IG-11 to be a nurse droid. He must have really understood prioritization and risk and all those parameters that had allowed IG to save a small green person rather than just leave the ‘meat bags’ to solve their own problems. Maybe being more like Kuiil would be a good thing.

He still didn't want to be more like Bo-Katan, but he supposed if he was more logical he would have seen the value of having the former Mand’alor provide their group with assistance. She had more experience in dealing with Moff Gideon than anyone else he’d ever met. She had access to other Mandalorians, which meant Din Djarin wouldn't have to do all the heavy lifting from a fighting perspective.  She also knew Ahsoka Tano, which struck Grogu as extremely interesting, when he wasn't pouting about why a fellow Jedi spent their time helping a Mandalorian princess rather than the other lost Jedi younglings like him.  Bo-Katan knew how to acquire allies and that was important when you spent your life as ‘predator and prey’ as the Armorer had said. 

Now, there was a cool customer, much like Fennec Shand, but still so different. Fennec’s rules applied to Fennec. The Armorer's rules applied to every Mandalorian who needed her services. Given that all Mandalorians wore armor, that pretty much meant that all of them did what she told them to do. The Armorer had decided that Din Djarin had to help Grogu return to his people. It was quest and he couldn't effectively argue against it. That wasn't the Way.

As hard as she seemed at certain moments, like a certain IG unit, she was also very thoughtful and considerate. She had made Grogu two pieces of Mandalorian armor, even though he wasn't really a Mandalorian. Yes, you could argue that she did that to keep Din Djarin in line, but it was still going to protect Grogu, a member of the Jedi Order, which Mandalorians considered the home of their enemies. Except for him and apparently Ahsoka Tano. Hmmm. Was that just an example of ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’, or did she really want to help him from a sentimental perspective? 

IG-11 would have been able to work that out, applying logic and analyzing all possible paths and outcomes. Grogu just had to live with the mystery. Like he lived with the mystery of how the Mandalorian could continue to be friends with Greef Karga. That made no logical sense. Karga hadn’t warned him about all the other hunters looking for Grogu. Karga hadn’t known that their were Imps all over Nevarro; nor did he know about the Mandalorian covert there. 

How could you trust a guy who willfully ignored the evidence of his own eyes. Sure, all Mandalorians wore armor, but none of it looked alike. Paz Vizsla was huge and made Din Djarin seem kind of scrawny, plus he had a flight pack! How do you not notice that? Even if you forgot about that, how did you forget that the protocol droid you used as a teacher had obviously been assigned to a pirate ship for some long, long, long, period of time? Otherwise, why would it even know all the smuggler and pirate routes around the galaxy? Or teach them to small, impressionable children? 

Grogu could go on and on, but there was another hand and Din Djarin was Greef Karga’s friend and vice versa. Grogu had even healed the Magistrate of Nevarro rather than let him perish from the poisonous scratches delivered by that reptavian. For all of Greef Karga’s faults he had some pretty good virtues, like keeping snacks on his desk and not complaining when Grogu ate them all. You had to give the guy points for that. 

Grogu sighed. IG-11 had been true to himself. As he'd been programmed to be. Grogu would just have to find a way to be a true friend without the programming there to help him remember that sometimes it was the exceptions that made the rules make sense. 

Not always. 

But sometimes. 

He was never going to forgive or forget that Calican kid scaring Peli Motto, no matter what logic dictated. That was not the Way.