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andr0medafallen · 1 year

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Jogan Fruit

A/N: The first smut piece I ever wrote, heavily revised by yours truly.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Warnings: porn with plot, oral (female receiving), somewhat irresponsible drinking, drinking games, inappropriate use of the word "crime syndicate" (not sexual, just stupid), biting, dubious consent (somewhat drunk sex, consented to by both parties)

Description: You live your life by the book. Rules are good. Rules like don't have sex with your Commander. A friend's meddling seeks to change that.

Word Count: 3.5k

“We should play a drinking game,” Corr suggested as you waved down the bartender for another round of jet juice. She did this, without fail, every fucking time you agreed to go drinking with her. It’s no one’s fault but your own, though, for continuously befriending adrenaline junky pilots who are more afraid of boredom than alcohol poisoning or embarrassment.

“What are you, five?” You, personally, are afraid of plenty of things other than boredom. And Corrinth’s god-awful drinking games are pretty high up on that list.

“I’m sorry, since when do five year olds play drinking games?” Corr argued, not even giving you her full attention as she sent a wink in the direction of the server setting down your cocktails.

“I bet they do in Mos Espa,” You mumbled, taking a sip from the sugary blue drink which Corr had ordered for you. Corr always ordered all around the spectrum of the rainbow of alcohol, especially when it contained a tiny paradisiacal umbrella in the sea of artificial sweetener. You certainly couldn’t complain, though, especially when it meant that Corr was paying. Spending credits on your behalf seemed to be the only fail-proof way to get you to go out the night before a big mission, and she knew it. Somehow her judgements about how you worked too hard never seemed to convince you to follow in the footsteps of her spontaneous lifestyle, but you loved to see her wasting money, so here you were.

“Well that felt targeted with a touch of classism.” You sighed at her antics. Why you would ever choose to befriend the only person from Tattoine who actually likes the planet is beyond you. What kind of a masochist do you have to be to genuinely like Tattoine?

“It’s a crime syndicate.” You defended your honor against her attacks, but you knew that she wouldn’t let the argument go until you decided to play a drinking game, of all things. Like a seventeen year old rich kid in Canto Bight whose parents are on vacation and has the house to themselves for the weekend. And to be clear, you don’t mean that endearingly. You mean it in the sort of way that implies that you definitely don’t want to play a drinking game and hate rich kids and Canto Bight.

“It’s like, not even that much of a crime syndicate,” Corr disputed, plucking the sugary preserved jogan fruit off of her drink and popping it into her mouth. You could practically taste the over-sweet syrup, just by looking at it.

“That doesn’t even make sense, how can something be ‘not that much of a crime syndicate’? It is or it isn’t!”

“Okay, well how can a whole city be a crime syndicate, that’s not how that works,” Corr complained.

“Oh, fuck me, it’s literally run by a crime syndicate, it might as well be.”

“The Hutts don’t even run it any more sooo… you're wrong, I’m right, let's play a drinking game,” She grabbed her drink and started chugging as if planning to throw back a shot in vindication, but for lack of any near, she settled for the next best thing.

“Kriff!” You snatched the drink out of her hand before she could get herself beyond the point that would ensure that you would have to spend the end of the night holding her hair back for her. “Okay, I’ll play your stupid drinking game.”

“Yes! Truth or extreme truth,” she decided, rather quickly.

“Please, for the love of all things holy, do not make me play that,” you backtracked. Why did you ever agree to play her games again? Stars, caring about people is way overrated.

You know, caring about people. Like how you care about Corrinth, even though she is positively insufferable whenever given the option. Or Commander Poe Dameron, who for some reason is walking to your table with that intoxicating confidence that you wish wasn’t deserved. Commander Poe Dameron who you should not at all care about, or who you should at least care about in a normal, professional manner, if at all. Not that many resistance fighters followed that rule, but you liked rules. Rules such as not caring about your Commander. The kind of rules that protected you, even if they did lead to your flood of anxiety at the mere idea of drinking with the man.

“Play what?” He asked, leaning against the dingy bar table that you were sitting at. You’d seen him coming, but you still nearly jumped out of your skin when he spoke, dulcet tones voiced right into your ear, a symphony accompanied by the silent echo of his warm breath across your skin. He was wearing his off-duty clothes, linen shirt hugging his biceps, and I’m sure you can use your own imagination about the way his slacks hugged his hips. And the crisp scent that must have been pressed to his pulse point only seemed to set you on edge.

“We’re gonna play truth or extreme truth,” Corr excitedly told him, tossing him one of her winning grins. No one could ever kriffing say no to it. Hell, you could never say no to it.

You crashed your head into your arms on the table in an exaggerated display of annoyance.

“Come off it, Corrinth!” You growled, head raising by the neck just to emphasize your irritation; your desperation to not play this game, especially with Poe.

“Wait wait wait wait–” Poe gestured wildly with the bottle of ambrostine he must have picked up at the bar, as if to signal a pause on the conversation. You guessed that his interruption meant that you hadn’t sufficiently convinced either of them to drop the subject. “What is truth or extreme truth?”

Corr smirked, as if she had been waiting for this question since Dameron stepped foot in your vicinity. Or very possibly since she had planned this kriffing “girls night”. Why Corrinth finds it so absolutely necessary to intervene in your love life when she’s got absolutely no need to live vicariously through anyone is beyond you. She’s got a lovely and fulfilling relationship and she’s got plenty of game, but she only ever seems to be interested in getting you to unearth your secret crush.

It didn’t help that Dameron had to create the perfect setup for Corr to open her mouth and reply, “Fuck around and find out.”

This was problematic for a few reasons. 1, Corr had practically issued him a challenge in bright fucking obvious neon lights to choose extreme truth. And 2, While Poe is not the reckless flyboy that many people seem to think he is, the likelihood that he would turn down this challenge was low. Oh, and there is the fact that extreme truth is just an explicitly sexual truth, and the whole game is honestly just a remarkably uncreative spin on truth or dare, so there’s that too. Needless to say, you were not happy.

The grin which Poe returned shot off so many alarm bells in your head that you thought you might explode. Your eyes met over the table as you stared at him, but you quickly turned away, taking a drink of your ‘Jogan Jumper’.

“Oh, yay!” Corr turned towards you. “You should go first cause you invented it.” Wow. That was definitely a piece of information that your outranking officer and crush did not need to know. You should have just taught her truth or drink. So much for trying to get out of dares.

You rolled your eyes before bringing your gaze up to Corr. “Corrinth,” You gritted out. “Truth or extreme truth.”

“What?” She chided, playing dumb. “Don’t be rude, it’s Commander Dameron’s first time playing!”

Fuming, you turned to Poe, who looked a little confused but good-spirited. “Truth or extreme truth, Dameron?” You asked, voice dripping with a complete lack of enthusiasm.

He smiled, glancing at Corr who gave him the most mischievous look of encouragement that you have ever seen in your life.

“Extreme truth,” He decided. Wow. What a fucking surprise. While the rules of the game entitled you to cursing any possibility of friendship with your Commander by asking him a question straight from a holovid title, you deigned instead to turn to Corr and glare at her silently, lips pursed.

“Oh, I have a good one!” She chimed in, twirling a strand of bright blue hair around her finger.

“Let’s hear it,” Poe chuckled. Curse him, for being the type of man who didn’t become a modicum less attractive when intoxicated and covered in a light sheen of sweat. It was pure evil, the way his skin glistened, every curve of his beautiful face emphasized in an unfairly beautiful way.

“Out of all of the people in the room,” she smiled at him, “Who would you most like to fuck?”

His eyes flicked to yours momentarily, before fixing on his drink. Looking back up at Corr with a furrowed brow, he asked, “That’s what extreme truth is? It’s just a truth about sex?” He seemed flustered, his tan cheeks covered in a smattering of pink. You were surprised, if anything. He never seemed like the type to get shy about this sort of thing. Embarrassment seemed to be more your cup of tea, but you supposed that even you were wrong every once in a while.

“He doesn’t have to answer it,” You muttered. You nodded your head at his drink. “Just take a swig.”

“Yeah, you could chicken out,” Corr agreed, before turning to you. “He’s probably just scared that we’ll find out he wants to fuck Borsk the fish boy.”

You folded your arms over your chest, giving Corr your best ‘I’m disappointed in you’ look. “Corr, be nice, Borsk isn’t that bad.”

“Uh, yeah, I think that not that bad constitutes not having sex with fish, but whatever gets you going, I mean, I’m not one to judge.”

Before you could argue that that was just a mean-hearted rumor, Poe interjected, “No, yeah, nothing against Borsk, but I’d fuck Black 3.” He said it quickly, rushing through his words as if his mouth was running a marathon. He didn’t stumble over a single syllable, though; it was as if the words lived on his tongue. As if they belonged there. Your eyes widened. The breath caught in your throat. That was you. That was your callsign, there is no one he could possibly be talking about other than you.

At that earthbending revelation, Corr decided it was a good time to pull out her com, screen completely blank.

“Oh shit, it’s Eida.” It wasn’t even a good lie. You could clearly see the black screen of the communicator. Poking it to mimic answering couldn’t change the fact that it hadn’t beeped and no one had called her. “Hey babe, everything okay? Oh stars, that’s crazy.” You cringed. If Corr was going to be such a compulsive liar, she should probably take an acting class sometime. She took the comm away from her ear and poked it again, as if it had done anything the first time. “Girlfriend’s in trouble. You know how it is.”

Poe actually managed to seem genuinely concerned. It was honestly kind of endearing how he actually believed her obvious lie. “Everything okay?”

“Her comm is off and her girlfriend is in the engineering bay patching droids. Everything’s fine,” you seethed as Corr cheerfully skipped out of the crowded bar. To his credit, Poe did not seem put off by your rude demeanor. Honestly, you didn’t know what it meant for his mental health that he wasn’t.

Still, when Poe looked at you with those warm brown eyes that held so much more than you were ready for, you couldn’t help yourself. In one of the most impulsive moments of your life, you grabbed his wrist, the way you might to save someone from falling off a cliff; Like you were afraid to let go. Your lips met the same way; tongues intertwined, starved for something not quite comprehensible, but now that you’d found it you wouldn’t give it up for the world. Your hands were grabbing at each other both delicately and desperately.

Maybe you were making an awful mistake. Maybe you were about to do something that you would regret tenfold in the morning. But you didn’t care. You couldn’t care, not when his warm hands were on you and you couldn’t even begin to comprehend a world in which this wasn’t a good idea.

When your lips parted (a miserable moment, softened only by the quiet peace of the way your breaths intertwined), Poe grabbed what was left of his liquid courage and gulped it down quickly, as if it was the only thing in the way of him and you. His eyes met yours as he licked the sweet syrup off of his lips and set the glass down with a quiet thunk. There was a certain amount of finality in the noise, like a decision made for the both of you.

He grabbed your wrist in the same desperate way that you had only moments ago. Sweet eagerness and a darker need were palpable in the air as you nearly jogged to keep up with Poe’s quick strides. You didn’t know where you were going, mind fuzzy in a cocktail of excitement and nerves. It finally clicked when Poe pulled out his keycard and fumbled to get the door to his quarters open.

Your heart skipped a beat; your stomach was butterflies. When he finally jammed the card into its keyhole to a green light and cheery ‘beep’, you wanted so desperately to be able to take in your surroundings. You were expecting janitorial closet, and instead got a peephole into Poe’s own heart. He slept here; this is where he came home to after hard missions, where he hung posters for the shitty bands he listened to. And this is where he decided to take you.

Still, with the warmth of Poe’s body pressed against you, there was nothing you could possibly focus on other than the feeling of his lips on your neck and his hands on your waist.

Your head fell back against the wall as Poe’s soft lips sucked at the junction between your neck and shoulder. There was no restraint, you could practically picture the bruises that would bloom shades of purple in the morning. Somehow the idea didn’t make you even remotely anxious. All you could think about was this man, who found it so easy to let go of safety in the face of his desperation for you.

When a whimper escaped your lips, Poe’s head buried itself into the crook of your neck, the rough fabric of his rec clothing grinding against your hips. You delicately slid your hand between your bodies, pressing against where he needed you most—against what you needed most.

The moan which he rewarded you with was utterly sinful, but it soon warped into a groan of aggravation. “No, wait wait wait.” he seemed almost panicked, but in a relaxed way; as if those two feelings didn’t directly contradict each other. You immediately backed away, confused, your mind doing laps around itself from the aftershocks of anticipation and the current worry of rejection.

Dameron was quick to reassure you, though. Not in words, but in the way his hands grabbed your waist. In the way he guided you to his bed. In the way he gently pushed you back until you were displayed underneath him. His eyes didn’t devour you, but gazed at you like you were a beautiful painting that he wanted to sear into the back of his brain, so that he could see it every time he closed his eyes. It was far too intimate for the one night stand you were well on your way to, but you couldn’t help but crave that sort of affection.

“This okay?” He asked, hands moving to his belt buckle.

“Could be a little faster.” You had meant it as a tease, but it came out breathy and hoarse; a beg for him to give you what he knew you so badly needed.

He smirked down at you and slowed the pace with which his deft hands worked at his belt, teasing you. His goal was quickly forgotten, though, when he heard the whine that had pushed through your lips. It was almost immediate, him kneeling on the bed, just to be closer to you; the way he dragged your trousers over your hips and down your legs as if drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin.

If you’d been planning on fucking Poe fucking Dameron tonight, you would have worn nicer underwear. Poe didn’t seem to care, though. He licked a stripe over your clothed clit, and your hands flew to his curls. To pull him closer or to push him away, you still hadn’t decided. His beautiful brown eyes looked up at you from between your thighs, dark with lust. Surging up, he attached his lips to yours, warm hands pawing his hands at the hem of your shirt. You melted into him. There is no better way to explain it. Your bodies intertwined, your lips on his, your hands cupping his cheeks. Your bodies only separated momentarily for Poe to drag your shirt above your head before immediately reconnecting. His hands were everywhere, as if he couldn’t possibly get enough. Calloused fingertips touching the soft skin of your breast and providing the delicious scrape of skin to skin that you craved.

It took only moments for you to turn the tables on Poe, using all of your strength against him as you flipped yourself on top, grinding onto his lap. He gasped into your mouth, hands fisting into the crisp white sheets beneath him. Your hips pressed against his, your hands working at his buttons while your lips explored his body. Your hands couldn’t seem to meet the pace of your thoughts, though, and when they couldn’t figure out the closures on his shirt, the only plausible option in your pleasure-drunk head was to tear the shirt at its seams and throw it across the room.

Poe chuckled at you. “Eager?” It didn’t take more than an extra hard grind of your hips to shut him up, leaving him speechless and gasping for air. He gasped, head rolling back and hitting the wall behind him with a thunk. “You–You gotta stop doing that sweetheart. You’ll make me come before I even take my dick out.”

You slowed the grind of your hips in response, attaching your mouth to one of his nipples in answer. He let you do so for a moment before grabbing your thighs and dragging you down the bed while flipping you under him. You groaned at the loss of control, but your eyes widened with lust as he dragged down your underwear, the last remaining sliver of clothing which had remained on your body.

You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched as he attached his mouth to your clit, big brown eyes staring up at you as he sucked and licked at your core. He probed two thick fingers at your entrance as if testing the waters, and when met with absolutely no resistance, started slowly pumping them in and out of you.

Poe’s ministrations were persistent, and your moans only seemed to be growing louder. You wondered if his neighbors could hear you, and the thought brought a rush of adrenaline through you.

As you grew closer to your climax, Poe’s name became a chant on your lips, accompanied by the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out, in and out. If his neighbors weren’t sure of what the two of you were up to before, they would probably be clued in by this point.

He removed his mouth from your clit, a line of saliva connecting his mouth to your core as he instructed, “I want you to come on my mouth, okay baby?” It was hard to focus on his words when all you could feel was the ache of his fingers inside you and the loss of his mouth on you. It was all you could do to nod in affirmation as you gazed into his eyes.

“Say it,” he prompted, slowing his pumping fingers.

“Yes. Yes Poe, I’ll–Just put your mouth back on me, I’ll come, just–” He cut you off by reattaching his mouth and speeding his teasing fingers. It wasn’t very long after that before your stomach tightened and your pussy began to clench around him, hips grinding onto his face as your orgasm tore through you, eyes rolling back, even as Poe’s tongue persisted. There was a cascade of fireworks clouding your vision as your body spasmed from pleasure.

When you finally relaxed into the mattress and Poe removed himself from your core, it was only mere moments before you felt Poe’s lips on yours, tasting yourself on his tongue, plus the sweet remnants of the Jogan Fruit.

When he removed his lips from yours, you opened your eyes to find him grinning down at you.

“You up for round two?”

#Poe Dameron smut #Poe Dameron x reader #oscar isaac smut #Star Wars fanfic #reader insert #honestly not my best work idk why people seem to like this one

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 1 year

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Clan of Three (BOBF) - Chapter 4

Chapter Four: In the Name of Honor

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with a slowly discovering lineage. With the child off with the Jedi, the close-knit pair continues their travels through the galaxy.

Word Count: 8.9K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, angst, slight ptsd, some wholesome moments, father-daughter moments

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Returning quickly back to Mos Espa hearing an attack happened on the Sanctuary, reaching the exploded building the sandstone blacken by the explosion. Entering the building you see Boba, Fennec, and the two Mods; Drash and Skad.

“That was fast. Were you able to hire any foot soldiers?” Fennec asks and Din says, “I think so…Cobb Vanth is raising a garrison for us.”

“What price did you negotiate?” Fennec questions waiting for the price but he shakes his head, “Free.”

“Free?” Din nods, “He’s been holding off the spice trade single-handedly. I told him we could shut it down.”

“That’s not free. That’s most of Jabba the Hutt’s business.” Fennec protests with Cobb’s demand.

“That’s what the town wants,” Din replies and Fennec goes to retort but Boba cuts her off.

“I agree to their terms.” Fennec comes over to her boss trying to reason with him, “There’s a lot of credits to be made from that orange powder.”

“In the long run, it is better for us as well. Mos Espa can become a prosperous city under our protection. Spice is killing our people. Let Marshal Vanth and the people of Mos Pelgo…” Boba says.

“Freetown is its name now.” You pipe in and Boba nods, “Let the people of Freetown know they have my word.”

“You can tell Cobb Vanth himself when he arrives here with the reinforcements.” Din says and Boba is only worried he will not, “You are confident he will come?”

“I am.” He vouches and the bounty hunter nods, “Well if he does not, we are doomed. Our skill is no match for the Syndicate numbers. We must buy time until they arrive. We’ll lockdown at the palace.”

“It’s a bad idea.” Skad says and Fennec looks over at the bionic man, “Is that so?”

“It is.” He says and the assassin leans against a wall looking at the man, “And where do you propose we wait for reinforcements?”

“Here.” He says gesturing to the ruins you were in. “Here? In these ruins? Nonsense. The palace offers greater protection.” Boba says shaking his head and Drash steps forward.

“If you want to abandon Mos Espa and hide in your fortress, go ahead. We’re staying. The people who live here need our protection.” She says that the two young adults' decisions are final. You had to respect it, this was their home and they were fighting for it. Fett is silent looking at them before he nods, “We’ll stay.”

You set up camp in the ruins of the Sanctuary and when dawn arrived the plan was put into action with only Fennec, Boba, Din, yourself, and the majordomo that was apparently their hostage/informant.

“As we wait for the reinforcements to arrive with Cobb Vanth from Freetown, our forces are quietly patrolling the streets of the old city. The Pyke Syndicate has not yet arrived in numbers, but the minute they do, we will see them before they see us. The truce you negotiated with the other families of Mos Espa will ensure that they will remain neutral and allow us to gain the upper hand by surprising the arriving soldiers,” Fennec explains the plan as you sit on a piece of rubble listening in, “The Gamorrean guards are posted in the Klatooinian territory at the starport and will alert us if any of the Pyke Syndicate forces arrive. Krrsantan is in Trandoshan territory, keeping tabs on the streets of the municipality in front of City Hall. Drash and Skad are with the other Mods keeping an eye on the Worker’s District and the Aqualish Quarter. As you can see, all our flanks are covered. Nobody is sneaking up on us. When the people of Freetown arrive, we will have the forces required to pivot our strength to whatever region the Pykes choose to attack from.”

“For now?” You ask resting your hands on your crossed legs and Fennec looks over at you, “We wait.”

“Lord Fett?” Boba’s 8D8 droid enters the sanctuary, “There is someone here to see you.” You all stand up surprised someone had arrived at your positions.

“I thought you said nobody could sneak up on us.” Boba says to Fennec as you all draw your weapons and Din puts you behind him as the three of you hid outside behind the pillars while Boba steps out into the open and you hear him speak, “I thought I smelled something. If you’re looking for a job, you’re late.”

“I’ve already got a job. I’m here to negotiate on behalf of the Pyke Syndicate.” A gravelly but distinctive voice calls out and Boba scoffs, “I don’t negotiate with gutless murderers.”

“If that’s not the Quacta calling the Stifling slimy.” The man retorts for the hypocrisy from Boba. “Clear out. And tell your bosses we know they’re outnumbered.” Boba warns him and you hear the man chuckle and you tighten your grip on your blaster.

“I wouldn’t be counting on the people of Freetown to be coming anytime soon. I paid Marshal Vanth a visit. You should’ve never left him without his armor,” The air is silent as your blaster falls from your hands. No, you just saw him he couldn’t be. The guilt that crashed into you made you physically ill, no he was still there and safe. Cobb was…

“Without training, you are a danger to yourself and others. People will die because of your actions if you continue down this path.”

“You bastard!” Your body reacts running past Din and you get right around to see the man with blue skin and completely red eyes. His hand moves to the blaster on his waist and Boba grasps his own. Hands snatch your shoulders and you’re pulled behind the pillar as Din’s hand covers your mouth muffling your screams that turn to cries his other wrapped around your waist to stop you from running. Fennec has her rifle aimed out to cover you both as Din tries calming your breakdown.

“Shush you’re alright. You have to be quiet.” He whispers in your ear as he holds your back against his chest as you flail in his grasp as your tears and cries are quieted by his hand. His heart breaks hearing your cries it was cruel you had just seen the man who had helped raise you only to find out he was killed in cold blood.

“Before you get any ideas, I’ve got backshooters too. Let the spice move through Mos Espa, and all this can be avoided.” The man calls out as your struggle stops as you slump back to Din’s body tears streaming down your face.

“No.” Boba says and Bane looks at him his hands resting on his waist, “What do you propose then?”

“I will only negotiate with the head of the Pyke Syndicate.” Boba says and Bane grins ready for the killing blow, “You mean the one that massacred your Tusken family and blamed it on a speed bike gang?” Boba is frozen by the memories of the ones that taught him the ways of Tusken, he had thought it was the speed bike gang.. “You know it’s true.”

Boba’s hand moves his finger resting on the trigger and Fennec appears from behind the pillar her rifle ready as she calls out to him, “Boba.”

“Let’s do this right here, right now.” Bane taunts him as anger runs through his veins. He could do it right now.

“Not now. You pick when.” Fennec reminds him but he shakes his head, “He killed Vanth. The reinforcements aren’t coming.”

“We fight on our terms, not theirs.” She says trying to convince him but anger had taken over him as they were clearly at the disadvantage, the Mandalorian behind the pillar was busy calming the grieving girl and he was blinded by the idea of killing Bane.

“I can take him.” He says his voice rough, “You’re emotional.”

“I can take him.” He grits out and Fennec moves to stand right beside him.

“We need to adjust. You’ll have your moment.” She reminds him. Understanding where he was coming from but it wasn’t the time. The anger clears his vision just enough to listen to her reasoning and his finger leaves the trigger.

“Tell your client negotiations are terminated.” He says turning and Bane calls out to him making him look back. “You’re going soft in your old age.”

Looking at the other bounty hunter the man that knew his father that knew him before he responds, “We all do.”

You’re pulled inside the sanctuary Boba and Fennec following afterward as the majordomo starts speaking, “That was an impressive display of restraint. Exemplary stratagem. If I may be so bold as to offer additional counsel-”

“I wonder how much he would pay for the Twi’lek.” Boba says and that shuts him up, “Understood. Many pardons. I should never have interjected.”

You shove Din off you moving towards the back of the room the guilt and sorrow in your chest turn into something ugly. It was burning in your veins the anger you had felt on that cruiser, the rage that fueled your body. Your knees hit the floor and your hand grabs the saber resting on your belt. The small pearl resting inside the kyber crystal chamber is the first gift you’ve ever got from him. He raised you…protected you..and he was gone. You clutch the blade to your chest mourning over the loss of the man you once saw as a father. Those ugly thoughts whisper in your ears, he would be alive if you were there to protect him, you got him involved with the Pykes and now he’s dead, Freetown blames you for his death, you killed their Marshal…their protector. The fear and anger bleed through your body unaware of it seeping into the weapon in your hands.

Din looks over at where you sit on the ground staring off completely shutting out the world. Your droid stands beside you but you don’t even notice it. He didn’t know what to say or do, he wasn’t good at going through loss. He moved on when someone died having connections was not safe for a man who is constantly put in danger. But you were just a child…you wore your heart on your sleeve and he was forced to watch you lose yourself with the man’s death.

Boba and Fennec are silent, the other man going through his own form of mourning with the truth of the Tuskens’ death. Silence fills the destroyed sanctuary before Drash’s voice comes in through the comms, “Come in, boss. Come in. Something feels strange over here.”

“Have the Pykes arrived?” Boba asks, “Not yet, but something feels off.” The woman responds and suddenly there’s blaster fire

“The locals are attacking! I thought we had a treaty.” Drash shouts over blaster fire and Boba frowns at the news,

“So did I.”

“They laid a trap!” Drash yells out before the comms go mute as Boba yells trying to get in touch with the Wookie, “Santo! Santo, come in!”

“It’s a coordinated attack. We’ll have to gather our people.” Boba says looking at Fennec and Din who listens in keeping an eye though on the girl in the back.

“There’s no way to overcome their advantage. We need to take out command and control.” Fennec shakes her head and Boba curses.

“Does the Pyke Syndicate still operate out of Mos Eisley?” Boba asks Shaiz’ majordomo who tries not to reveal the full information.

“Oh, it’s difficult to say for certain that…” Three blasters are pointed at him and he corrects himself, “Mos Eisley? Yes, now that I think of it, indeed they do. More specifically, the Desert Survey Office.”

Boba turns to the assassin, “Can you do that? Can you get there in time?” She shrugs, “Worth a shot.” She quickly departs taking a speeder and zooming through the streets.

“They’re here,” Din calls out and Boba joins him looking through the broken window as the Syndicate forces begin to move in surrounding the whole front of the building.

“It was just a matter of time. Is Cad Bane with them?” He asks trying to spot him but Din shakes his head, “Don’t see him. Any news on the others?”

Boba looks defeated, “Would be a miracle if any survived. All three gotras of Mos Espa turned on us.” He says and Din nods,

“It was the smart move.”

“It was. I suppose you’ll be heading out.” Boba asks seeing the very imminent failure.

“I’m not.” He refuses but Boba gives him the chance, “You should.”

“It’s against the Creed. I gave you my word. I’m with you until we both fall.” Din says and Boba looks at him, “You really buy into that bantha fodder?” He asks and the Mandalorian nods

“I do.” Fett chuckles checking the cartridge of his blaster, “Good.”

“The way I see it, we have two choices. We wait until they get into position and launch a siege on their terms.” Din says and Fett looks at him, “Or?”

“We rush out there, catch them unaware,” Din gives a quick but shoddy plan, “Then we can escape to your ship at the palace.” Fett shakes his head hearing the end of the plan.

“I can’t abandon Mos Espa. These people are counting on me.” He explains and Din nods pulling out his blaster, “Okay, then. We’ll both die in the name of honor.”

“You sure you wanna stay?” He says he was giving him the chance to leave, especially with the girl he was protective of.

“This is the way.”

“If I may offer an alternative?” The majordomo cuts in and the two bounty hunters look at him silently, “Shall I continue?...I’ll continue. You may not know this about me, in fact, how could you, except perhaps what vestiges remain of my accent, but… I was educated on Coruscant. Not that that makes me better in any way.”

“Get to it.” Fett cuts him off and he nods sharply getting back on track,

“Yeah, uh… I attended finishing academy. My parents were not wealthy by any means. I specialized in Civic Council Negotiations. Now, if you would feel confident empowering me to negotiate on your behalf, I’m fairly certain we would be granted passage off world with, at worst, some theatrical, symbolic, groveling gestures and an exchange of funds.”

Fett is silent before nodding, “Very well. Give me your tablet. I will write out my statement and what I am willing to pay.” Taking the majordomo’s tablet and starts writing as he smiles, “I shall go as your emissary. I have no compunction whatsoever genuflecting or even groveling if needs be, which would save you from any potential bruising of ego, so to speak.”

Fett returns the table before gesturing outside, “Now go before I change my mind.”

“Yes. Excellent.”

Din looks over to where his adopted daughter rests panic runs through his veins finding you and your droid missing. “Kid?!” He shouts but it’s too late to try finding you as their plan was already in action

“Salutations! Salutations! I am unarmed but for this tablet bearing the terms of surrender. I wish to present to whomever spokesperson is empowered to deliberate an acceptable outcome in the eyes of the Oba Diah high council.” The majordomo calls out with open arms to the armed men outside the Sanctuary. The commander of the group steps forward looking at him,

“Read it to me, tail-head.” He spats and the majordomo points to his head laughing at the joke, “Oh, because of the enchanting sobriquet, and one of which I never tire. Yes. Someday I hope to see the fabled Obsidian Cliffs of Oba Diah with my own eyes.”

“Read it.”

“Agreed. Let us dispense with the pleasantries,” Clearing his throat he looks at the written surrender, “I, Boba Fett, speaking as Daimyo of the Tatooine territories formerly held by Jabba the Hutt, do present the following offer,” His voice trails off having read ahead quickly growing silent, “Perhaps we should discuss what you’d be willing to…”

“Read it.” The man repeats growing tired.

“…following offer. Nothing. Uh…You will leave this planet and your spice trade. If you refuse these terms…,” Clearing his throat fear taking over his body as he’s forced to keep reading, “…the arid sands of Tatooine will once again flourish with flowered fields fertilized with the bodies of your dead.”

The Pyke commander lifts his blaster at the majordomo as he holds his hands up, “His words.”

Before the majordomo can be executed, Fett and Din soar in on their jetpacks gunning down the Syndicate soldiers. Though they are fired back the beskar armor protects them and with their weapons and the surprise strike the two are able to take down many of the Syndicate soldiers on their own. Firing his whistling birds Din takes down several Pykes and Boba sends an attack with his flamethrower. Bolts hit the two of them striking them back as they grow too much as they are knocking them down.

“They just keep coming.” Boba groans firing at as many soldiers as he cans but when one falls down another appears.

A few soldiers draw closer to the two of them as they try taking them down when they suddenly are pulled into the air dropping their blasters and clutching their throats. The soldiers and the two bounty hunters look around for who was doing this when a loud crack fills the air as their necks all snap in sync their bodies hitting the ground.

A screech fills the air and they all look over as fear strikes through them, even the bounty hunters seeing their ally. Din felt his throat close up and he was back on the cruiser, frozen watching you beat the life out of Moff Gideon. The rage in your eyes as your fist pounded caving in the man’s face the blood coating your body. What frightened him was seeing the weapon in your hand but it crackled in the air the plasma blade wild and chaotic reflecting your emotions. It was the color no longer orange but a blood red, a color all knew that referred to the opposite of the Jedi.

The color of the Sith.

“Is that a Jedi?” One of the Syndicate soldiers calls out the confusion in their tone. Unsure if the red-lightsaber wielder was their enemy or their ally. A snap fills the air as their neck turns a full 180 and they drop dead. You drop your hand the other clutching the saber your anger and hate bleeding into the weapon as it grows more powerful but also more unstable.

“Where is Cad Bane.” You growl out as blaster fire aims right at you. Dodging or reflecting the bullets back at them as they try to fight back but your rage is flooding through your veins. The blood pumping in your ears as you decapitate a soldier turning the blade around to stab another that tries to get the jump on you from behind. Din and Fett watch in awe but also in slight horror as your fluid movement with the weapon massacres their enemies. You arch the blade up slamming it down on one as they are split in half. The shades and hues of different blood coat your hands and parts of your body.

Grabbing one by the neck after cutting his hands off you pull him into the air, “Where. Is. Cad Bane.” You hiss as he screams in pain and you dig your saber deep into his chest silencing him.

The roar of a speeder and blaster fire comes from behind unaware reinforcements arrive. “The people of Freetown,” Boba calls out firing out as they move towards the armorer vehicle filled with people firing at the Pykes. Din wants to pull you away from the fight as you are in the middle of it but is unable to move beside the speeder seeing Taanti,

“I’m sorry about the Marshal.” Din gives his condolences as the Weequay fires out at the soldiers,

“They gunned him down in cold blood.” He hisses and Din feels his heartbreak trying to think about how you were feeling.

“You didn’t have to come here.” He says and Taanti shakes his head, “Yes, we did. This planet deserves better. I don’t know how she’s dealing with it.” And they two see you slash your blade through another man not getting a second to breathe as you block blaster fire to kill another man. This is what he feared, he had seen your old self start to come back but it was crushed so quickly. The bloodlust and anger in your eyes, when the punches stopped being held back the attack not to defend yourself but to make them hurt. For them to feel the suffering that you felt. Blood soaked the sands as you tear through their defenses, but it was the moment he saw you hesitate to take in much-needed air he saw you go down.

“Kid!” Din yells running straight into the chaos, as the others give him cover, and the arrival of the mods pulled the soldiers' focus away from you. He sees your hand grabbing your leg your saber held in the other, you swing at him still blinded but he’s able to block it with the beskar. Your arm drops seeing it’s Din as he pulls you up to stand trying to take most of your weight off pulling you to safety and your free hand blocks blaster fire with your saber. Once around the safety of the Freetown armored speeder, your back is against the speeder as Din kneels in front of you. Your thigh was bleeding from a bolt striking you there, he rips part of your cloak and ties it above the wound to stop you from bleeding out. You go to move but Din pushes you back down the fighting still going on around you.

“I have to get Cad! I have to kill him! For Cobb-” “You’re done!” Din yells pushing you back down as you try to get back up again. Your gaze is fierce as you stare down Din and he holds you against the speeder. “You’re done, kid…” He says his voice weak.

“They’re falling back!” Someone yells out and you struggle to stand as Din helps you up an arm around your waist to keep you up. You could see the Pykes retreating away as the people around you cheer and celebrate.

“Freetown!” “Yeah!”

“I wouldn’t celebrate yet. We got problems,” Din says as you see coming around the corner two very large spider-like droids, “We got real problems.”

Blasters and even Fett’s missiles are useless with their powerful deflector shields as they turn and take aim at the vehicle. “Run! We’ll distract them.” Din helps you run away as the attack hits the speeder and it explodes in a ball of fire. The people of Freetown, the Mods, and Krrsantan start to flee down the streets of Mos Espa as the three of you stay back.

“Go get out of here!” Din yells and you shake your head pulling out your saber the red blade appearing with a crackle and roar,

“I’m not leaving you!” You shout back quickly dodging a bolt from hitting you as it collides. Rolling as the sand kicks up in the air from the powerful attack you hiss in pain looking at your leg and seeing the blood soaking through your pant leg. Din and Boba attack the droids their blasters making no dent and Din pulls out the Darksaber trying to pierce through their shields but it doesn’t go through.

“I can’t get through.” Din yells out as you keep moving backward avoiding the droids' attacks, “These two will destroy the whole city!” Fett shouts and Din tackles you when another attack is aimed at you. He helps you up as you keep running well yours is a half-sprint half-hobble

“Our energy weapons can’t get through, and our kinetic weapons have too much velocity,” Din says

“Can you protect the others?” Fett asks and Din nods, “I can distract them for a spell. Why?”

“Watch out!” Fett yells as you both dodge a bolt heading to the two of you, you grunt from the strain in your leg.

“We need reinforcements.” You wheeze out your arm wrapped around Din’s shoulder the other holding your saber.

“From where? You’ve run out of friends.” Din says aiming the comment at Fett.

“Protect the others.” He says before blasting off into the air leaving the two of you against the giant droids. Din fires at them and is able to get the attention of one as you both take off in the streets. You’re pulled forward by Din a clear trail of blood following behind you both as the droid fires upon you. Turning the corner you see a cart driven by a rickshaw droid heading toward you and a woman waving at the two of you.

“Mando! Ha! We found you! I got a surprise for you.” Peli calls out to you two as Din waves his hand forward,

“Turn around!” He yells over the sound of the droid getting closer and how far away you were. “What?”

“Turn around!” “Can’t hear you!”

“Turn around!” You both scream as the droid turns around the corner and Peli screams out as the cart quickly turns around. Din with the help of Peli helps you onto the back as he jumps on as well as the droid drives down the street.

“Can this thing go any faster? Go faster, you bucket of bolts!” Peli yells at the rickshaw droid as it speeds up and you have to clutch onto the back of the seat to hold on. Din fires back at the Scorpenek as it chases after you all, his focus was torn in two defeating the droid and making sure you were okay. Your hand was a death grip on the back of the seat the other deflected bolts from the droid. You were bloody and sickly-looking he could see your blood staining your pants from your injury.

“Hey, Mando! Look who’s here.” Peli calls out and you both look as she pulls a blanket off revealing the child you both look away only to whip back in shock.

“What? Hey, what are you doing here?” Din leans forward looking at Grogu in shock, “Buddy? How..” The small child jumps into Din’s arms and he pulls him into a hug,

“Oh! Okay, little guy. I’m happy to see you too. I didn’t know when I’d see you again. It’s okay. Yeah. I missed you too, buddy,” Din chuckles at the coo Grogu releases and you smile stroking his ears and he giggles, “But, uh… we’re in a bit of a bind here right now. You be careful. You keep your head down. You stay hidden until the fight’s over. Hey, that’s the shirt. You got the shirt.” He brings Grogu back to his seat and peeks inside his cloak spotting the beskar shirt hidden underneath.

“Save your tender moment. We’ve got a Scorpenek droid chasing us.” Peli shouts out as she fires her blaster past you.

“What is he doing here?” You ask and Peli shrugs, “The Force works in mysterious ways.”

The Scorpenek droid fires at you missing you all but it manages to shoot off the head of the rickshaw droid. It shakes before exploding as the cart flips from the momentum as you all are sent into the air. You see Din grab Grogu right as you crash into the ground groaning in pain as you turn to see the Scorpenek droid right upon you as you deflect its blaster fire. You come to stand but fall back down your hand presses against your thigh pulling back and seeing it stained red. Din yells out to you as the droid aims right at you but before it could fire a terrifying roar that makes you cover your ears distracted. Looking up seeing a rancor jump over several buildings dodging the fire from the droid. You’ve only heard the stories of the creatures hearing the legend that Jabba the Hutt had a rancor and those that disobeyed him would be fed to it.

The rancor appears before you and you see Boba Fett on top riding the beast as it manages to damage its shielding. You see Din appear behind the droid and use the darksaber to break inside the deflector shields. Climbing on top of the droid as it tries shaking him off and he slices off one of the gun turrets but is knocked off. It raises its leg to crush Din when you throw your saber it spins cutting off the leg and it returns back into your hand. The droid collapse gave Fett’s rancor time to finish tearing it apart and destroying the tech. Din grabs you pulling you into his arms as he embraces you and the child. His breath is shaky as he holds the two of you feeling like a part of him is whole again. He wasn’t sure how the child had gotten here but was thankful for the higher beings out there.

The attack of the second Scorpenek droid ends the touching moment as Din stands helping you up holding Grogu in his arms, “Keep ’em on their heels. They’re on the run.”

“Come on, let’s get the Pykes.” You say moving forward your saber ready as you join the battle against the remaining Pyke soldiers and the final droid. The rancor beats the droid into buildings and it fires at it but its hide absorbs the attack. It rips apart the turrets stopping the droid from firing it tries stabbing the rancor with its legs but the creature destroys it. With a roar, it destroys the droid before going after Pykes. You deflect blaster bolts from hitting you or your allies as you shove your hand out and it shoves back a few Pykes into stands of fruits or walls. A fresh breath of air fills your body and you sense the presence. Your head turns off in a direction and the anger that had been left distracted by others had felt it too. You could do it. Get your revenge..for Cobb. Your saber drops slightly as the blaster fire flies past you, you can reach out tapping into the force that surrounds you. Feeling the grains of sand, the smell of the blasters, the drip of sweat mixed with blood falling from your body, the muffled sounds of gunfire and shouting.

Then you find him as the world around you returns and you stare at his presence.

“Bane…”

Cad Bane fights against the Rancor firing his blaster at it before he scares it off from the fire in his vambraces. The creature roars throwing Fett off his back and flees into the streets of Mos Espa. Fett rises staring at the other bounty hunter across the street just the two of them.

“Clear out and take your hoodlum gang with you,” Fett calls out to the man.

“I’ve known you a long time, Boba. One thing I can’t figure. What’s your angle?” He admits and Fett shakes his head, “This is my city. These are my people. I will not abandon them.”

“Like the Tuskens.” Bane tries to goad Fett but he remains firm and doesn’t let the anger take over, “Don’t toy with me. I’m not a little boy any longer, and you are an old man.”

“I’m still faster than you.” Bane retorts.

“That may be, but I have armor.” He agrees but he had the advantage of the beskar armor that protected him.

“Let’s find out.”

The two stand still before whipping out their blaster, Bane hits Fett knocking him down his blaster flying from his hand. Looking down at him Bane stalks toward him, “Now’s about the time you jet off to your bacta tank.”

“This is my city!” Fett yells sitting up flames emitting from his vambraces as Bane dodges rolling out of the way and firing at him again knocking him back down.

“You gave it a shot. You tried to go straight. But you’ve got your father’s blood pumping through your veins. You’re a killer.” Kicking him back away from his weapon, Bane kicks his weapon away, “This isn’t the first time I beat you out on a job.” He slams his foot onto Fett’s wrist as he groans in pain pinning him down to his knee and digging into his chest as he shoves the blaster between the gaps of armor.

“There’s no shame in it,” Bane says ripping the helmet off Boba revealing his face as he glares at the man. Rising to stand still pinned he slowly raises his blaster, “Consider this my final lesson. Look out for yourself. Anything else is weakness.”

“Bane!” A voice calls out and the bounty hunt looks forward and Boba looks upside down trying to see who it was. On the end of the street is a girl covered in blood though not her own. She stands tall though Bane notices the weight she shifts off the injured leg. “You and I have business.” Your hand pulls the saber off your belt a screech fills the air as the red blade appears and you see Bane grin.

“A jedi?” He says and you raise it pointing it at him,

“You’re going to die for what you did.” You spat and he laughs only making you tighten your grip on the weapon.

“I think you’ve wandered off little lady..best get back to your Mandalorian.” He says and your glare is piercing.

“I’m exactly where I need to be.” You hiss and Bane steps away from Fett not before delivering a swift kick to his side making him groan.

“You know I’ve met your grandfather before,” Bane calls out and you bring your other hand to stabilize your grip on the saber, “I know who you are, you look just like Kenobi…but your anger is just like Skywalker.” He hisses the names to remember his enemies during the time of the Clone Wars.

“The Marshal died a painful death because of me…his screams filled Freetown.” He says and your vision goes red. You race towards him as he fires at you though you deflect them sending them back to him. Throwing your saber it spins toward him but he dodges the attack sending flames your way. Rolling underneath the attack grabbing your saber mid-air a beam of plasma clips your hair the loudness causing a ringing in your ear. Closing the distance you raise your saber to strike him down when he kicks you in the stomach you fall back and he fires right at your saber hitting the open chamber of the saber.

The plasma completely destroys the saber as the power cells become unstable and explode. You’re thrown back hitting the ground the wind ripped from your lungs as the destroyed saber rest before you. You were certain you blacked out when you hit the ground, your ears ringing as you gasp for air. Scratches from the shrapnel of the hilt decorate your face and hands. Shakily trying to push yourself up a kick to your face and you spit out blood before a foot digs into your chest pinning you back into the sand, Bane stands above you and you see the blaster raised and aimed at you when he’s attacked by Boba Fett. You force yourself to roll to your side pushing yourself up on shaky hands and catching Fett impale Bane with his gaderffii stick.

Blood pours from your face and nose as you drag yourself and rest on the sands the destroyed saber and the crystal shattered in pieces. Tears and blood blind you as your fingers shake trying to collect the pieces of the krayt pearl until the fragments rest in your palms. The gift you treasured for years, using it for your saber, destroyed by you…by your anger. Your head drops as you cry over the broken weapon mourning over losing one of the only things you could call yours.

Following the battle, Din realized you went missing before he received a call through his comm from Boba, that he had you. Arriving with Grogu in his arms and Peli and the others they found Boba Fett standing over the body of Cad Bane a grim look on his face. Din’s focus was instantly drawn to the girl keeled over in the sands. Rushing to her his movements slow down hearing the cries come from the girl and coming around to face her sees the destroyed saber resting in front of her as you clutch something in your hands to your chest. Slowly kneeling down and placing the child down beside his hands hover out in front of him.

“Kid..” He whispers making you look at him and his heart cracks. Cuts litter your face as blood a now steady trickle from your nose and your mouth. Your eyes were red fresh tears wet your waterline and lashes. Your bloody hands pull away from your chest opening it up and revealing the shattered pearl, “Oh kid..” He pulls you into his chest as you crumble crying into his chest. Din holds your head to him the other stroking your back.

“It’s…it’s my fault…I would get people hurt,” Your voice hoarse as he tries wiping the blood from your face, “People were…going to die…because of me.”

“No..no none of this is your fault okay…it’s not your fault cyar’ika.” He says holding your face between his hands as tears fill your vision.

“Din..” You fall back into his chest as he holds you to him. The small child looks on with a sad expression before coming between you two and you pull back as it brings his small hand over yours. His fingers barely cover a single finger and he closes his eyes focusing. You can feel the immense force coming off him as he pulls back then looks up at you and you understand the look in his wide eyes. You look at your hand at the pieces of the pearl it was dull lacking its shine and hue.

Closing your eyes you squeeze the portions of the pearl tightly in your fist pouring all your energy into it, turning the fear and anger that first harmed the crystal into love and peace. Thinking of all your positive memories, being on the Razor Crest with the child and Din, on Sorgan seeing trees and so much green for the first time, reuniting the Frog family with its children, coming home to Tatooine, and seeing Cobb. The memories you had with him, your first time meeting, he teaches you how to defend yourself, the times he took care of you when you were sick or soothed your fears when you had a nightmare, his horrid jokes as you worked on your speeder together, your fifteen birthday and actually celebrating it since your parents died, him gifting you the Krayt Pearl. Tears of sadness as the memories of Cobb fuel you to heal the crystal. Din watches you focus your eyes closed as you clutch the destroyed pearl between your hands. A weight is lifted off your shoulders and you open your eyes slowly opening your palm tears spring from your eyes seeing the intact crystal as it shimmers in the light. You look at the pearl a wide grin covers your features as he looks at the item resting in your hands. He would always remain amazed by the things you or the child could do just earlier seeing Grogu put the fierce rancor to sleep. You smile looking up at Din when all the energy in your body is drained as your vision goes black. Din was able to catch you the second your eyes rolled back, he panicked for a second seeing you collapse in front of him bringing his fingers to your pulse sighing in relief feeling your heartbeat. The pearl barely rests in your unconscious hands, the act of healing must have drained all your energy just like it had for the child who looks at the two of you.

“Come on kid,” Din says to Grogu as he grabs the pearl and the remaining pieces of your saber putting it in his satchel, his own gift still with him. Scooping you up into his arms he holds your unconscious body looking down at the small child beside his feet and then at the one in his arms. He felt at peace knowing the two of you were back with him, he would protect you two and make sure you never shed a single tear again. He swears on it.

You felt weightless a calming sensation surrounds you but the urge to wake up draws you away from the dreamless sleep you are in. Your eyes blink open and you notice you submerge in some cold liquid and a breathing device is in your mouth. Taking in a breath of air from the device as you try thinking back on how you got to hear everything in a blur. Suddenly the liquid drains as the capsule opens and you sit up pulling the apparatus from your mouth and taking in a shaky inhale suddenly aware you were soaking wet only in the new pair of clothes as they stick to your skin.

“Princess Kenobi-Kryze you are awake, your bacta session has fully healed your wounds.” A protocol droid rolls in as it hands you a robe that you quickly wrap around yourself. Being the cold water now out in the air your body shakes slightly as you try to warm yourself up. “I will notify Lord Fett and your party that you have awoken.” The droid doesn’t give you much time to answer especially the title as you sit there looking around the room, it was pretty empty besides the bacta tank and some other items which you assumed were Fett’s. You bring your hand to your face not feeling any cuts or scaring on your face. Looking at your leg pulling up the pants to see your thigh. Your fingers run along the smooth skin, the blaster wound not even leaving a mark

“Kid.” You turn seeing Din standing in the doorway the small green infant in his arms. He crosses the room before you’re even out of the machine his free arm wrapping around your head and pressing you to his chest. You can feel the shaky exhale he releases as he holds you to him Grogu grabs a finger with his small hands and you smile stroking his ears. He pulls back looking over you not a single scratch was left, the bacta completely healing your injuries.

“Come on kid, they're gonna need this tank.” He helps you to stand as he keeps a hand on your shoulder. You don’t get to ask when Drash and Skad bring in a man and the air leaves your system as they move past you quickly to place him inside.

“Cobb..” You whisper looking at the man as he’s placed inside the tank and they quickly close it up, it filling with bacta. “But they said…”

“He was able to get some help but the bacta will quicken the process,” Drash says as she looks at the man with understanding in her eyes and it hits you.

“You modified him..” Drash nods as you pull from Din’s arms stepping towards the tank and seeing the man resting peacefully in the healing bacta. Your hands rest against the glass wishing he could reach out and take yours. Resting your forehead against the tank whispering into it, “Please be alright.”

“Come on kid..” Din calls out as you stand up swiping the stray tear that threatens to fall and you pull returning to the Mandalorian as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, “Let’s get you dressed.” He says leading you like a child to another room as the droid comes over your clothes in its arms. Thanking the droid you head behind the privacy screen getting dressed grateful to be back in your clothes. Your fingers run along the clean fabric as you pull your pants up your legs surprised to see the sewing put in to fix your pants.

Returning around the screen Din still waiting there with the child in his arms as you holster your blaster and knife. It was like instinct to grab your belt to fix your saber but your hand comes empty. The pain from losing your saber is too fresh as a frown takes over your features.

“Hey kid,” Din calls out and you look at the man trying to hide the sad look on your face to no avail. He waves his hand for you to follow him. Leaving the tower as you move through Boba Fett’s palace until you reach the throne room and laying in the middle as a rug and a singular item wrapped in a cloth tied with a cord.

“What is this?” You look at the man as he leads you toward the rug placing the child down as it moves to the cloth sitting across from it.

“A gift.” He says taking you by the shoulders to make you sit on the rug in front of the object wrapped in cloth. Din moves back standing to the side and you look up at him as he gestures to you and then to the cloth, “Go on.” You give him a suspicious look before turning to the cloth and glancing at the child who is also looking in interest. Undoing the cord with care and putting it to the side you slowly undo the cloth, your breath gets caught in your throat when you see the item. The saber is in perfect recreation as it rests in separate pieces including the inner works. The only difference that you did notice was the metal of the hilts it had a slight marbling effect something you’ve never seen before. Grabbing a part of the hilt the cold metal presses against your skin, and you feel the weight of it but it was light at the same time.

“Is this beskar?” You look at Din as he nods at the shocked expression on your face. “But I thought beskar wasn’t meant to be weapons.” You ask as he moves towards you crouching down.

“It’s not, it’s technically considered taboo to Mandalorians, but like the child, you deserved armor as foundlings,” He points at the hilt resting in your hand, “This is your armor. To protect you as a Jedi…and a Mandalorian.” Din reaches into his satchel pulling out the krayt pearl and you perk up as he passes it to you and you accept it with such delicacy. The intact pearl shimmers in the light and has a faint warm glow that is brighter in the healed cracks. You look at the disassembled saber and the crystal in your palm slowly placing it back down onto the cloth as Din steps back. Taking a deep breath feeling your heartbeat loud and strong as it slows down with your breathing. Your hands rest on your knees as your palms face upward as your drift shut. Focusing on your breathing as the doors open as the Force rushes over you wrapping around your body like a blanket. It’s comforting and welcoming like an embrace protecting you as the small objects shake gently and then rise into the air. You can feel the sunlight through the sandstone, the texture of the handmade rug underneath you, hear the inhales from the child in front of you and the modulated breathes from the Mandalorian, tasting the crisp air, and the smell of fresh linens that wraps your body.

Din watches in amazement as the pieces of the weapon move throughout the air stopping in their desired places and the weapon forms before him. Working outwards on both ends towards the middle, the power cells are covered through wiring and the beskar hilt. The weapon of the Jedi imbue with the Force as it comes towards the middle the final piece of the puzzle being the krayt pearl is it slots itself in the open chamber but protected by the metal of his ancestors.

You open your eyes as the weapon rests before you. Reaching out towards it you feel the sudden weight of the beskar but in your hands, it lightens in your grasp. Your eyes trace the details of the saber as your finger rest on the button and you activate it. A screech fills the air as the plasma emits from the hilt. A gorgeous orange like the sunset on Tatooine bathes you in the color light. The healed crystal purifies it of the color of the Sith.

The blade retreats back into the hilt and you look at the saber resting in your hand but also the weapon on his belt, the whispers faintly coming from it calling you. Din follows your gaze seeing the Darksaber resting on his hilt before he pulls it off his belt holding it out to you. “I am not the owner of this weapon thus it should not be in my possession.” He explains that you froze it was fear that stopped you. The weapon that had cut through your flesh, in the possession of the man that slaughtered your people, was yours by right, your claim to the blade but also to the throne of a destroyed planet. But while no throne rests or no armor of your ancestors adorns your skin this weapon was yours to lead and rule the hidden Mandalorians scattered across the galaxy.

“Ibic cuyir te ara.” The whisper of the voice as a hand is ghost-like on your shoulder, and you feel the presence of the person before it fades as you take the weapon in your grasp feeling the weight of it as you attach it to your belt beside your saber. You felt the conflict in yourself as you hold the weapon meant for true rulers not orphans from Tatooine. Din could see the fear in yourself with this weapon and the responsibility it means to yourself. You look up at Din who is looking at you though you can’t tell what his expression is underneath the beskar.

“You can stay here, with Cobb have a home here on Tatooine. I won’t stop you.” Din says the fear of seeing you hurt again is too great for him to deal with. If he knew you were here and safe he could deal with his exile without fear. You look away to the child holding onto your pant leg. Bending down pulling the child into your arms you step forward and Din holds his breath ready for you to agree and leave his life. Your hand reaches out grabbing his holding onto the leather glove as his finger wraps around yours instinctively his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

“I’m not leaving you,” You say looking at the man you see as a father figure, the man who protects and loves you, the man who would tear a part of the galaxy to see you safe with him, your buir, “I’ll follow you anywhere you go.” You promise him as he looks down at you.

He was at a loss for words, the girl he had originally meant to be a quarry, their relationship rocky and hesitant, but with time you had slowly broken down his walls and created a space in his heart, he would do anything to see you smile or to hear your laughter, put down his own life to make sure you and the child were safe, to allow you to be a kid…his kid, his ad. Din looks down at you before nodding,

“Okay.”

Din prepares the N-1 with the coordinates of the planet they were meant to travel sending the navigation to link with your X-Wing. From behind him, Grogu taps the dome with the small ball from the Razor Crest in his hands.

“No.”

A series of more taps as Din speaks again to the child in the pod seat built into the N-1.

“Uh-uh.”

More taps follow as Din grows more annoyed by the persistence of the child.

“No.”

A chuckle follows his comms as he looks over seeing you in your X-Wing watching the display, “Come on he’s not gonna stop until you do it.” You say as the child bangs on the glass more frantically. R4 produces his own response as you make a sound of agreement.

“Don’t need the opinion of the droid here.”

More banging comes from the glass making Din glance back at the child.

“All right. But this is the last time.” He says flipping the switch you watch the ship accelerate rapidly and you hear Gorgu’s squeals from the comms as it jumps to lightspeed. R4 beeps at you as you chuckle adjusting your grip on the joystick and punching in the coordinates,

“I know R4,”

Flipping the switch as the 5th engine roars ready and your finger hovers over the button to release the energy and jumps to hyperspace. To explore the galaxy as one adventure ends and another begins,

“This is where the fun begins.”

A/N: There is Clan of Three: Book of Boba Fett! Another part of this fantastic series is done! You are fucking incredible people and season three's first chapter is coming out next Wednesday!

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #the book of boba fett #clan of three series #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #din djarin x teen!reader #din djarin x y/n #mando x reader

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irenadel · 9 months

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Fear Leads the Way ch.3

Filthy smut ahead, now with more blood kink. Mentions of slavery. Some unhealthy power dynamics because DUH. Darth Maul x Reader and I think we can finally admit Savage Opress x Reader. He doesn’t like it tho. He will NOT go gentle into that good night.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The first time Maul cries in pain in your arms Savage sees red and thinks he will, at long last, be able to kill you. And you think you might let him.

It had taken weeks and weeks to get there and it wasn’t Maul who pushed through. The moment you had agreed to hold him at night it had seemed to be enough for Maul. As if all he had required to be content was for you to stop fighting his ownership of you. As if he knew once you did, you’d have nothing left but him.

You were no longer confined to their quarters… and admittedly no longer afraid to leave them lest you be punished the way you’d heard unruly pleasure slaves were. It was a strangely lonely experience though. You had even less to do than before, focusing solely on what was required of you by the Zabrak brothers (never Savage’s own cybernetics, no matter how much you winced at hastily laid out circuits and patched up nerve arrays, Maul was an excellent mechanic, but no biomechanical engineer) and you have to admit it may have been driving you a little insane. You used to do small tasks now and again for the syndicates: emergency procedures, hydraulic adjustments, little hacking jobs… part of you still hoping to save up enough to buy your freedom the way you’d heard some Hutt slaves still did. You’d worked for whoever would pay and sometimes whoever would not, as some of the higher ups in the Shadow Collective had decided to consider you at their general beck and call, so long as it didn’t interfere with your duties to Lord Maul.

Not anymore.

You are so indisputably Maul’s now that you wonder how you could have ever thought you were his before.

You never heard him announce it but somehow everyone seems to know and now they give you a wide berth. The Black Suns who used to sneer at you avoid making eye contact and the few Hutt emissaries that remain to try to make peace with the Shadow Collective have resorted to offering Maul a nicer, prettier bedslave. Maybe a more comely one, lither, less used up. You try not to show how you bristle at that. The Mandalorians, about as terrifying as the Sith Lords themselves, stand aside respectfully when you pass them by (you try not to think about how often you do pass one because you don’t want to acknowledge how much you’re being watched). For their part, the Pykes seem oddly pleased at the strange turn of events their little gift has produced, yet still continue their refusal to acknowledge you. That you understand. You were little more than a thing to them, and it was bitter, to have ended up here anyway, despite your best efforts. It tasted like copper and rage when you let yourself think about it too much, like a storm inside you brewing the desire to make someone, anyone, pay for this… and whenever you did and he was nearby, you saw Lord Maul glance your way, like a trained Tatooine massiff picking up the scent of blood.

In those moments, regardless of whatever else he might be doing, he would gesture for you to come near and would take your hand and hold it to his face, to his lips, almost smiling.

He didn’t look at you. He didn’t address you. But he kept you close, no chains, no locks, nothing else necessary to hold you but the sheer gravity of his presence. You hated it as much as you loved it.

You hated when he sneered at the Hutt party’s sniveling suggestions of an upgrade and you felt your stomach clench in fury and vindication. You hated the beautiful black gowns he kept leaving for you near the fresher, because you hadn’t seen fabric so heavy and fine and good since even before the war. Your mother had never had anything as beautiful as these. You held them to your face and refused to cry or tear them to pieces, you just put them away and continued to wear your old mechanic jumpsuit.

You didn’t hate lying beside him at night, no matter how much it stung your pride… but you did hate how touch seemed to be all he wanted from you. There had been no further amorous interludes after the first two, not in this bed, not the moment that Maul found out he could have the whole expanse of his arms and back and chest and neck touched at his pleasure. He had demanded that immediately and you had complied, and in your terrible fear of servitude and vulnerability you had never even imagined that touch was all that would pleasure him indeed. Or that it would be you, who would end up needing more, longing for his growls against your ear and the frantic grinding of his hips against yours. You didn’t hate his imperious commands for your hands, never detailed, never more than once, as if his dignity would not allow it (no thought to yours, ground to dust already by your humiliating longing for him). But you did hate how eagerly you jumped to obey and provide him all he wanted. Enough for Lord Maul but not for you and more than enough for his brother, who still slept fitfully besides you, always attentive to whatever noises the two of you would make. You couldn’t have ever known how right his vigilance had been.

Maul sighed and you could feel Savage about to jump out of his skin. Maul growled gravelly in his sleep, contentedly against the crook of your neck and you could almost feel Savage waiting to pounce. You had expected many things from your fate as his possession, but not this constant vigil.

You hadn’t expected to be so uncomfortably starved for his affection.

In all the stories you had heard whispered in Nar Shadda, in all your years as a refugee, making cybernetics for the poor and the destitute like you, living so close to slavery you could almost feel the bite of a Zygerrian collar or a Hutt implant, you had never imagined you’d be the one wondering when you would be kissed next. Or that you could hold someone so close you could feel twin hearts beating and still want more, need more, in spite of your terror and resentment of him.

The problem was that he purred. Lord Maul of the Shadow Collective purred loudly and constantly, rumbling, along the length of your body, lying between your legs, warm and hard and musky. He purred and it made everything inside you clench, desperately, hungry for his own hunger, for his tongue and his teeth and his hand wrapped around your neck, so tight and good you could still feel the thrill of it. For everything you had not asked for but still missed, for another go at his mouth and hearing him say please and ruin and want.

The second problem was that Savage purred too. Not as intimately close as Maul’s body draped across yours, but louder. Not at first either, and you would never know why or how long he had resisted this tell tale noise before he’d finally given in. Comfort having lulled him from his constant vigilance of Maul, eyes snapping open and alert at every new sound out of Maul’s mouth. Sounds that had seemed at first to Savage like Feral’s childish fretting or his own moans of protest after a hard night’s drinking to forget a visit from the Nightsisters. Then silence, the deep, even rhythm of his breath… and then like a blessing, like a memory from better times, his brother’s surprising content purring.

He had let himself be blinded by this. By this unexpected recovery of joy, of rightness… the comfort of his brother’s body so close at hand, the long-sought rumble of his dreamless sleep. He could’ve almost forgiven you for the weeks of anxious caution, for the fear… just because in your arms Maul sounded like a Nightbrother, a boy… or at least as far removed from whatever thing the Sith had tried to turn him into. It had been a rude awakening to catch the scent of your arousal in the air, to find you as dangerous and unpredictable as he had first thought you. Savage had snapped awake and watched you closely, waited, he didn’t know what for because you were no proper witch, but waited anyway, ready to fight for Maul, ready to make the Mother’s magic good for something, ready for anything but your strange refusal to act.

When you did move, it wasn’t towards his brother but away from him. You slipped a hand in between your bodies and for a stupid, senseless second Savage had thought it must have held a weapon to be wielded against Maul.

It wasn’t a vibroblade… but it was just as dangerous and even more confusing.

Your hand between your legs and it somehow took Savage a second to understand what you were doing in there, what treachery you were so clearly trying to hide.

He’d never heard of a Nightsister pleasuring herself, but there had been plenty of Nightbrothers in the communal huts. Savage had done it himself, a lifetime ago, when he still understood his life and his body. But he would not do it now, distrusted the ichor and the treachery of his kinslaying hands and it disturbed him how familiar, how nauseatingly enticing he found the quiet constrained sounds of your pleasure. A furtive, private pleasure you chose to take independent of Maul.

It made no sense, served no purpose, made no children, did not even bind his brother closer to you. All it did was flood the bed with warmth, with the musky, overpowering scent of your arousal, made Savage painfully aware of your human body, so like a Nightsister’s and yet so horribly alien at the same time.

Because you don’t yank either of them out of sleep with an order. You don’t demand combat and blood and horror. You choke down your thin little sounds, muffle your sudden desperate sob against the covers and make Savage’s skin break into goosebumps. There are no tears, no held back moans, when the Night people come together, there are no wet sounds of fingers reaching for solitary, desperate pleasure and Savage doesn’t understand why such a sounds should make his palms tingle or ichor seethe in his veins.

Savage doesn’t understand you at all, but Maul does.

“That,” he hears his brother hiss, terrifyingly awake, anger like molten lava “belongs to me.”

There’s the quick slap of Maul’s gloved hand snatching your own hands out of the way and you make another strange, otherworldly sound. Pained and high-pitched like a scream, but further back in your throat, like a wounded animal, a sound that Savage cannot fathom but which makes Maul growl and move over you.

“Please,” you beg and something in Savage’s stomach clenches because Nightsisters do not beg and Nightbrothers who beg never find themselves in a warm bed, heady with the stench of a woman’s wetness. But that please seems to do something to Maul, makes him yank your hands out of the way and above your head, your legs closing around Maul’s owns and Savage should be afraid, should be ready to flee or fight or kill, except Maul is still deeply, powerfully purring, like a boy with a full belly after a good hunt, like a young Nightbrother pumped full of spring joy, discovering the frenzied hungers of his own body, like a blessing and curse.

“You did it all wrong,” Maul whispers against your ear and Savage does not know how Maul thinks he can do this right because he knows nothing of this, of his own zabrak body drunk on your pheromones, of the danger of holding you down and holding you still and of how strange it is for you to still be begging please, please, please. Maul knows nothing but neither does Savage because he can hear your mewling, your horrible, terrible (wonderful) cry of pleasure and the squelching clench of your sex as Maul slips a still gloved finger inside you and makes you writhe and makes you sweat and makes you do things that have Savage panting for breath and desperately fighting an arousal he had almost thought gone from his life.

And Maul’s fingers are going in and out of you and Savage can hear it, like and unlike sex, deliciously suggestive of it but no treacherous velvet softness around his own member to distract him, no witch to protect his brother from, just your pitiful human body at Maul’s mercy and he can perhaps, for once, understand Maul’s obsession with power, with chains. Because if he could have you like this always, subdued and compliant, reeking of sex, of happiness, perhaps he would understand why his brother says that peace is a lie. Because this, Maul’s ragged breathing, your warm legs brushing Savage’s body whenever his brother pushes inside you too roughly, his own stubborn erection a dull and distant pleasure… This is better than peace.

Maul bites and you cry out in pain and joy. The blood he draws smells to Savage of Dathomir, except it’s not supposed to be yours and you’re no supposed buck under Maul, to beg for more, to make Savage want to flee, want to stay, want to bite down on something (you). He does not know what you’re supposed to do but Maul’s body does. And Savage can almost taste it when Maul slides between your legs. He knows the instinct, the insatiable hunger.

Because Maul is relentless, unskilled and determined and when you protest he snarls at you and makes you melt back into the bed. When your hips buck up his hands grind them back down and he is strong and impossible to guide and you’re at his mercy. And it’s both too much and not enough, each hot swipe of his tongue, each ravenous sound of ecstasy from deep in the back of his throat, reverberating against your legs and your sex and all of it is hot and alive under him.

Savage can feel it in the Force, ravenously, darkly pulsing between them. Feed, rend, take, breed. Every Nightbrother’s prayer, singing through Savage’s veins, through his groin and the unbearable hardness of his member. Because he wants that taste too, not yours, but the terrible taste of Maul’s sheer joy in you, in your thighs clamping against his horns, shredding the tender skin, wanting him so much, so much closer that blood is a price worth paying. The torrent of desire and lust and sheer want, that Maul can’t even stop. His tongue inside you, his teeth grazing you and his voice, whenever he deigns to stop for a breath, no longer velvety, but raw and impossibly deep panting yes, yes, yes.

And Savage can almost smell you climaxing, choking back his brother’s name and Maul’s making a noise like a wounded animal and lapping at the blood smearing your thighs too quick and too sudden. You’re still coming and you don’t want to stop and it’s that thoughtless desire that gives you the audacity to grab Maul’s hand and place it back on your sex if he intends to continue licking greedily at the stinging mess of your thighs.

You are too far gone to notice how immediately he obeys. Savage is too focused on keeping Dathomir’s echo from intruding. But Maul… Maul rips the glove from his hand with his teeth and thrusts his fingers inside you again, quick and efficient like he is Sidious’s weapon all over again, capable, perfect, powerful. Two, three fingers inside you and his thumb on your clitoris, because he’d prepared this time, sought the knowledge of your undoing, guides it via the flood of your scent and movements and screams. You’re screaming his name and he smiles, madly, a grimace with too many teeth.

Maul feels deliriously present, because he wants and he wants and wants and feels like he’s disappearing in desire like his master had said he would, if he focused his rage enough. But this is different. Blood and the addictive potency of your wetness, better than anger, than food, than comfort. Better than anything he’s ever tasted. A thing he’s making you do, with his hands and his mouth and his skill and he can’t wait to make you do it again and again, until you have no breath to say his name anymore, until you can’t scream it and remind him he exists.

Because that’s what you’re doing now, still panting Maul, Maul, rhythmically, in time with his fingers inside you, the whole heel of his hand incessantly, cruelly rubbing the whole of your sex, still wet, still painfully sensitive, still coming for him and only him.

“Lord Maul,” he corrects you in a growl you feel reverberate to your very bones and smiles wider, wilder when you echo him. Can’t help but dive back into you, this time catching your mouth with his own, wanting the taste of your screams. He’s fucking his hand into you so hard, he can almost feel it in a member he no longer has. Hates the muted quality of his lust, his passion, as much as he feels comforted by it. He has control, but at what price? It is not worthy of a Sith, this fear of his own hunger and he finds himself furiously taking it out on the already abused skin of your neck, biting you again, getting another heavenly mouthful of your blood.

But this time you do cry out in pain, tense up beneath him and his reaction is instinctive and immediate. First to subdue you, and then to peer into your face, anxious for a second and then annoyed at his show of weakness. It’s like the air’s been punched out of him, the moment he lays eyes on you: smeared with blood and yet still panting and reaching for him. You nudge something deep inside him, the memory of all the dead things he’d desired and had to forgo. Kilindi in her pool of blood. Eldra. Sidious’s women… and it’s nauseating how much it makes him want you. Agony, the sith masters of old had said, would free him. He does not know it now, face hiding in the crook of your neck, he does not know what he would do with freedom.

Savage is on you so fast it’s dizzying, ready to rip his brother from your arms, would have in fact ripped those arms off your body if only you hadn’t looked at him. Pleading. Scared. Still covered in blood and none of it Maul’s, for all he’s the one whimpering like a rancor just gored him. You are terrified but you don’t let him go, refuse even to let Savage pry your fingers off his back and he doesn’t know what to do when there’s no wound to tend to, no hurt to soothe, no enemy to kill. Just pain.

When a Nightbrother gets like this, there’s very little to be done, he’d been told. But you don’t know that and Savage has tried very hard to forget. When Savage had found Maul, gibbering in agony in Lotho Minor, he hates that his first thought had been to put him down, put an end to his suffering, to do what he should have done ages ago. But Savage cannot, not then and not now. Savage could not do it to Feral when they had been young and alone and too stupid to be afraid, and he will fight the ichor in his very veins to stop himself from doing it again.

Because Savage is not like Maul… or like you. He does not know how to endure, how to put things back together after they’re broken. There are things Savage will never come back from, will never crawl out of, will never survive. He has failed already, as a Nightbrother in trying to keep one brother from the Sisters and another from you. Failed just by trying and failed in the attempt. He will not survive this, but Maul will. Maul will survive you and Savage will make sure he will. If he has to let you hold Maul, let you soothe him, let you speak softly and constantly to him while he murmurs always remember, always remember, then he will. If he has to endure the stench of your arousal and your fear and your love, then he will. And he will put the bacta on your shredded thighs and help you hold Maul together and try not to hate the sight of your tears and try not to love when you hand him his brother to hold, the three of you together, nestled against each other, making sure Maul survives.

#darth maul x reader #savage opress x reader #darth maul smut #savage opress smut #star wars #star wars fanfiction #tw: blood #tw: noncon #no noncon happening here but Savage has some errrrm interesting thots re sex with the womenfolk #he’s still not exactly fucking but he’s getting there I think

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radiofreederry · 5 months

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Some things that have happened so far in @gabajoofs and I's Star Wars timeline:

Watto set up a kitschy tour service showing off places on Tatooine related to the Skywalkers

The Mandalorians replied to Mon Mothma's attempt to recruit them by basically telling her to suck their nuts

The Jedi Prince Ken from a series of young readers books was captured by an Imperial warlord and is being groomed as a fascist

The Neimoidians have become socialist

The Hutts are being destroyed by an Imperial breakaway crime syndicate, the Mandalorians, and a slave revolt

The Empire destroyed Thyferra, leaving the kolto of Manaan as the galaxy's premiere healing product once again

Corellians are Irish

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catofadifferentcolor · 5 months

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Terrible Fic Idea #84: Star Wars, but make it the Outer Rim

I've been reading a lot of Star Wars fic lately, much of it involving time travel in some shape or form. Most of it is wonderful, but after a while some of it starts to read as let's fix the Republic so we can bring the light and civilization of the core to the outer rim. Which, while possibly disingenuous, feels a little too much like the justifications made by Europeans for their colonial empires.

As I said, I'm probably reading too much into certain tropes, but can't help but wonder: what if one of these fics started in the outer rim as a way of bringing light and goodness back to the core? Or: Save Tatooine, save the galaxy.

Just imagine it:

Several years have passed after The Book of Boba Fett in the original timeline. While the New Republic calls Daimyo Fett's leadership just another crime syndicate masquerading as good government, anyone who's actually been to the planet knows it's the other way around. Most crime syndicates don't care for planetary infrastructure or public vaccination programs.

Boba has encouraged Din to use his palace as a base for his bounty hunting activities - and as a home planet for the small community of Mandelorians building around their Mand'alor. Ideally, this would be the start of a courtship that wouldn't be moving as slowly as it is if Din wasn't an oblivious idiot about 1) his feelings and 2) traditional Mandalorian courting, but it could also simply be vod'e being vod'e. Dealer's choice.

And so Din is on planet when someone tries to bribe Boba for one reason or another with an ancient Sith artifact.

Din calls in a Jedi from Luke's school to investigate - Cal Kestis, who is one of a handful of trained adults in the new Jedi Order and the most knowledgeable about weird force osik...

...which doesn't stop Cal from accidentally triggering the artifact and sending Boba, Din, and himself back in time to the year 53 BBY, shortly before Jaster Mereel is set to die in the Battle of Korda VI.

As if finding themselves on Tatooine approximately 66 years in the past - well before any of them were even born - isn't enough, all three find themselves in their teenage bodies. Boba and Din are somewhere between 15 and 17, when they have most of their adult height but none of their bulk, while Cal is disgusted to find himself a particularly short 12. This in no way reflects their real differences in ages, and they are forced to attribute it to more inexplicable force osik.

Despite their ages, this proves an opportunity to stop the Empire from ever forming. But how? None of them know enough about the precise course of events to begin to stop it, and even if they could manage to get the Jedi Council to listen to them, waltzing into the Jedi Temple and declaring themselves time travelers is bound to put them on Palaptine's radar in a way that is likely to end their painful deaths.

The solution, they decide, is to get the Jedi to come to them. After all, if they repeat Boba's actions from the future, overthrow the Hutts, and free the slaves on Tatooine, someone from the Jedi is bound to come and investigate.

Taking over Tatooine proves easier than their wildest dreams.

Killing Jabba the Hutt in his own throne room and transmitting a signal that jams slave chips across the planet is all that's needed to spark a general uprising against the slavers and Jabba's criminal empire.

It's a little less easy getting the representatives of the colonists, freed slaves, and native peoples to believe that a pair of teenage Mandos and a half-grown Jedi took out a member of the Grand Hutt Council, but once they hear Boba's plans to convert the planet's slave-based economy to a viable democracy funded in part by the wealth of Jabba's vaults, they're more than willing to vote him Daimyo. His actions more than make up for his apparent age.

The Republic is naturally less sanguine. Mandalorians on Tatooine? Is this the start of another war of conquest? (To say nothing that several of the more corrupt members are in the position to lose a lot of money if crime and slave trade is disrupted in the outer rim.) The Senate orders the Jedi to investigate.

The Jedi are also in an uproar. Not only do holos show a young force sensitive helping a pair of Mandos take over Tatooine, but one of those Mandos has a lightsaber the likes of which they've never seen. (Tensions between Jedi and the Mandalorians are such that no one recognizes the Darksaber for what it is or what it means.) Could this mean some dark side sect has sent some of their apprentices to help rebuild the Mandalorian Empire?

The Mandalorians are also unsettled - Death Watch because the Darksaber seems to have disappeared overnight, only to end up with a child in unpainted beskar half a galaxy away; the True Mandalorians because it looks to them that Death Watch might be sending children into battle to build the empire they're always going on about; and the New Mandolorians because this is exactly the kind of violence that gives Mandalore a bad name.

And all of this fails to take into account the Sith, who are naturally upset that the fear and despair they've worked so hard to cultivate on the edges of the Republic has been disrupted with something so light as hope.

All parties converge on Tatooine.

The Mandalorians arrive first. The True Mandalorians are just beginning to investigate when Death Watch decides to attack first and ask questions never.

Boba, Din, and Cal were expecting this and so have a plan in place that allow their forces to take down most of the terrorists while ensuring Jaster Mereel survives, thereby preventing Korda VI, Galidraan, and all that follows. Montross is killed in the fighting without his double cross ever being known.

This also manages to convince the True Mandalorians that they're just a bunch of kids trying to make their way in the galaxy, and while they ask why take over a planet? why not just join a mercenary guild?, Jaster can't deny that they're doing a good thing. He stations some of his people on planet and leaves them be, content Din isn't going to try to push his claim as Mand'alor and/or build another extremist terrorist sect around the Darksaber.

The Mandalorians leave right as a large number of Jedi arrive. In this party are most of their best lightsaber dualists, including a less jaded Yan Dooku and a young Qui-Gon Jinn (who is only a few months out from Xanatos' Fall and in desperate need of a mind healer). Forced proximity has made the later very clear to all the Jedi Masters involved, and this alone prevents many of the tragedies of Obi-Wan's early apprenticeship.

Qui-Gon's mental health aside, the Jedi presume they'll be attacked by dark siders the moment they touch down on Tatooine. Instead they're invited to the Daimyo's palace, given refreshments, and brought before the planet's new ruling council. Which includes two freed slaves, a wizened Tusken grandmother, a pair of moisture farmers, and a representative from one of the cantinas in addition to a pair of teenage Mandos and a young force sensitive.

This meeting goes a long way to convincing the Jedi that what's happening on Tatooine could be a good thing - particularly after Boba turns over everything they could find regarding some of Jabba's dealings with several shady senators and businessmen within the bounds of the Republic. Including one young senator, Sheev Palpatine of Naboo. While several are able to talk their way out of trouble, it removes the worst of Palpatine's future lackeys from power.

The Jedi also invite Cal to come back with them to the temple to "finish" his training. Cal invites them instead to build a satellite temple on Tatooine. After all, there's no reason why a religious order should be tied to the Republic government, and setting up a temple in the outer rim would allow the Jedi to help those on the outer rim more easily, without waiting for the approval of the Senate.

The Jedi obviously don't agree right away - but it does mean that they come back fairly often to discuss the particulars, meaning that someone is on planet when the Sith decide the best way to fix their plans is to try to assassinate the young Daimyo and his allies, revealing the Sith's continued existence decades early.

Which is where my plot bunny starts to fizzle out.

With Jaster Mereel alive, the True Mandalorians have a real chance of stopping both the terrorism of Death Watch and the cultural genocide of the New Mandalorians, leaving Mandalore in a position of strength versus the Republic. So long as this remains the case, plans for a New Sith Empire must be put on hold.

With the shadiest characters removed from the Senate, it's harder for a Sith to take charge of it - especially when a strengthening Tatooine continues to disrupt smuggling and slave trafficking in the outer rim, reducing the darkness and the funds he has access to.

And so though the details are up to the dealer, taking over Tatooine disrupts the Sith's machinations enough that they're forced to show their hands too soon, and thus defeated before they can ever give rise to the empire. It's not easy, but it involves a lot less suffering than the original timeline.

Bonuses include: 1) Merrin and Grogu also traveling through time as a result of the force bonds that they have with Cal and Din respectively. They wake up on the currently uninhabited planet Luke's school will occupy in the future rather than Tatooine and have to go through a quest of their own to get off planet and rejoin the others. This should involve accidentally helping the other's plans to prevent the empire, such as by disrupting a crime syndicate or blowing up the Trade Federation's first droid factory; 2) Teenagers being teenagers. These kids may have been adults in the future with all their adult memories, but they've got teenage bodies now and it shows; and 3) Boba and company never outright admitting they're time travelers, but dropping enough hints to the relevant parties that they eventually come to that conclusion on their own. Only then do they share the details of the horrible future they've prevented.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you do anything with it.

More SW Fic Ideas | More Terrible Fic Ideas

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smolbean-17 · 5 months

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SEASON 3 THEORIES

Part 4 (Episode 8-9)

I think these episodes will be action packed, and maybe a little filler-y initially. But not much. I don’t think many of the episodes this season will be filler, if any at all.

Ep8 - Bad Territory

I’m certain this will be the swamp episode.

I can’t help but wonder if this episode will have to do with the Pyke Syndicate?

In the leaked trailer, Hunter and Wrecker are shown being escorted by a Pyke. They appear to be unrestrained, so they’re probably following the Pyke willingly.

In another part of the trailer they’re being escorted by a boy. I have no theories as to who this is, but I wonder if he has anything to do with the Pykes.

We know that this is the monastery on Teth. Will they go to Teth in this episode? Or even later on?

This leads me to wonder how much the Crime Syndicates will play a role in this season. We have evidence of not one, but two of the incredibly dangerous and powerful syndicates in the trailers. Both the Hutt Clan and the Pyke Syndicate.

This bodes poorly for our boys, presumably only Hunter and Wrecker. Do they resort to working for these syndicates for intel on the illegal inner-workings of the Empire? Whatever happens here I’m sure will paint a bigger target on their backs.

This is where Fennec Shand comes in.

She was a master assassin who worked directly for the top crime syndicates in the galaxy. Just as Cad Bane did.

Maybe in their venture to find Omega, they hire her for help/intel. Fennec likely has something to gain from working with them.

They go to this swamp planet with her:

And Hunter doesn’t seem to have a good time.

He’s already in the water when the croc grabs him, so either he was in the water willingly looking for something or swimming back to the boat after a fall. Or maybe croc really wants a Hunter snack and this is round 2.

Ep9 - The Harbinger

I think this will be where we’re introduced to this character for the first time.

If it is Tech, we won’t see his face this episode. If it isn’t, we will find out it’s just another clone assassin. They will have no reason to drag out the mystery behind this character if it isn’t Tech.

When it comes to my theories on whether or not Tech is gone for real, I’m torn. I really think it’s a 50/50 chance either way.

But as for this particular mystery character, I’m leaning toward it not being Tech. I honestly think it’s another clone assassin.

CX-1 particularly.

The episode title is The Harbinger.

Harbinger definition: a person who goes ahead and makes known the approach of another; herald. anything that foreshadows a future event; omen.

“They are coming for all of you.”

This person is the harbinger for the Bad Batch. Whether he’s the harbinger of their death, destruction, a final clone war, or something else, it won’t be good.

Meanwhile, Crosshair returns to his brothers, a free man.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

#the bad batch #star wars #clone wars #sw tbb #tbb #star wars tbb #the bad batch spoilers #bad batch #star wars the bad batch #bad batch theories

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swan-of-sunrise · 1 year

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Taking Care of Business (Chapter Thirty-Three)

Summary: The notorious mechanic of Mos Eisley sells the trio a replacement droid and on Mandalore, the Clan of Three faces more than one challenging obstacle as they search for the Living Waters.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: It’s time to finally visit our favorite mechanic and then we’re off to Mandalore! Thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-Three The Mines of Mandalore (Previous Chapter)

“Whoo-hoo! You hear that? She’s purring like a nuzzle shrew!”

(Y/N) grinned at Peli’s colloquial turn of phrase as she switched the starfighter’s engines off. “No complaints so far, but she’s still a little faster than I know what to do with.”

“Well, I’ll tune her up just the same,” The mechanic gave them a wide smile, showing off the gap in her teeth caused during the skirmish between Boba Fett and the Pyke Syndicate not too long ago. “So, uh, where’s my guy?” Before either (Y/N) or Din could reply, Grogu popped up from his seat on her lap and Peli clapped her hands in delight. “There he is!” The child expertly leapt out of the cockpit and into Peli’s open arms. “Now, who taught you how to leap like a Lurmen, huh?”

Din leapt down from the starfighter and extended a hand up to help (Y/N) down, lowering his modulated voice as the mechanic continued fawning over the babbling child. “You know she’s gonna try and rip us off again, right?”

“Her and every other kriffing mechanic in the galaxy, but at least she’s got a nice sense of humor,” (Y/N) shrugged and allowed him to give her a Keldabe Kiss before turning her attention back to Peli. “It’s good to see you again, Peli. How’ve you been?”

“Always so polite! You sure snagged yourself a real lady, Mando; there’s not too many of us out there in the galaxy…” Peli winked at him and (Y/N) hid her smile as he mutely stared back. “Well, it’s Boonta Week and I’ve been making a pretty good killing here, so no complaints. Are you three here for Boonta Eve?”

Din shook his head. “No, we’re here on business.”

“Oh, are the Hutts back? Are you takin’ out Boba Fett?”

“We need a droid part.”

Peli’s excited expression fell and she rolled her eyes. “Urgh, boring!” She turned to the pit droids working on a blue and silver speeder in the hangar’s corner. “Hey, get the Jawas back in here before they hit the cantina.” The pit droids chattered amongst themselves as they followed the mechanic’s order. “You know how Mos Eisley gets during Boonta week…” She held an invisible glass and mimed guzzling down a drink, much to Grogu’s amusement and Din’s exasperation.

“The Anzellans on Nevarro weren’t able to help us, but we were hoping that you’d be able to,” Din explained as Peli led them further into the hangar. “We’re looking for a replacement IG memory circuit.”

The mechanic scoffed. “Oh hey, grandpa. They haven’t made those for a while.” The pit droids led three irritated Jawas into the hangar and Peli addressed them in Jawaese, but the Jawas soon shook their hooded heads and scampered away. “Sorry, pal, no chance cubes.”

“They can’t find the part?”

“Nope.”

“We need our droid fixed now.”

(Y/N) rested a soothing hand on her husband’s beskar chestplate and gave him a gentle smile. “In the meantime, I’m sure that there’s something that Peli can do for us. We’re a couple of her favorite clients, after all.”

“Right as usual! Which is why I think you should buy this beauty here.” Peli stood beside a red and white astromech droid and patted its top, ignoring the puff of smoke and the panel popping off its center.

Din looked between the mechanic and the droid in incredulity. “We can’t use an astromech; we need a droid that’s rated for spelunking.”

“Spelunking? What are you spelunking?”

“We’re going to Mandalore,” Din explained and (Y/N) nodded. “We need a droid that can explore ahead of us and test the atmosphere, make sure it’s safe to breathe.”

Peli sighed. “Okay, well…” The frightened astromech droid started to roll backwards but was quickly spotted by the mechanic. “Uh-uh-uh-uh, get right back here! Right back here, scaredy droid! Come on, now, you gotta shine.” She chuckled and patted the droid’s top again. “This R5 astromech is built for adventure-” The astromech interrupted her with a series of timid beeps, but she only rolled her eyes. “What? Of course you are! You’re supposed to be piloting starfighters across the galaxy and fighting tyranny!”

(Y/N) looked over at Din beside her and watched as he shook his helmeted head in irritation. “It’s falling apart and besides, we’ve got no room for it on the N-1.”

“Nonsense, R5-D4 is as good as the day it came back from serving in the Rebellion! And I’ll reinstall your droid port so this little baby here can even co-pilot.” The droid shuddered and Peli fixed it with a hard glare. “Hey, if you don’t settle your bolts, I’ll sell you back to the Jawas.” She turned back to them with a toothy smile. “And because it’s Boonta, what I’m gonna do is I’m gonna give you this for half the price and throw in a free oil bath.”

Turning to face Din, (Y/N) lowered her voice and pointed out, “We don’t know how long it’ll take to track down that memory circuit or if we’ll even be able to, and an astromech could still really come in handy on Mandalore.”

Din heaved a deep sigh before looking over her shoulder at Peli. “Fine, we’ll take it.”

“I knew you’d make the smart business decision, Mando! Hey, pit droids!” Peli shouted, setting Grogu down and marching across the hangar towards their starfighter. “Bring me my tool chest and prep the oil tank, and be quick about it!”

While the mechanic barked out orders and started working on the starfighter, (Y/N) knelt in front of the timid astromech and smiled. “Hi, R5. It’s always nice to meet a fellow veteran of the Rebellion; I was a captain in the Alliance Fleet, but I never had the honor of flying with an astromech.” She picked up the panel that had popped off and carefully fixed it back on. “There you go, all fixed.” The R5 unit beeped and whistled, and she grinned at his binary message of thanks. “You’re welcome. Enjoy your oil bath!” She got to her feet and brushed the sand off her trousers as the astromech rolled away, but she stopped when she noticed Din staring at her. “What?”

“I thought you weren’t a fan of astromechs.”

“I’m usually not, but he’s a Rebellion veteran,” (Y/N) shrugged. “He might be a droid, but he chose to help us fight the Empire and his service deserves to be as appreciated as any other being’s would be.”

The Mandalorian rested a gloved hand on her waist and lowered his forehead to rest against hers. “Ner cyar’ika alor’ad. Every day since the day I met you, I’ve admired that kind heart of yours.”

(Y/N) felt her face warm at her husband’s words but before she could reply, Peli shouted across the hangar, “Hey, lovebirds! I’ll knock a couple of credits off your bill if you can tear yourselves away from one another and give us a hand over here!”

Chuckling, (Y/N) pressed a fleeting kiss onto the beskar covering Din’s mouth and scooped Grogu up into her arms. “C’mon, you two, let’s go help Peli so we can leave Tatooine before the Boonta Eve festivities get too out of hand…”

The three of them spent the afternoon reinstalling the starfighter’s droid port and tuning the engines and by the time they finished, night had fallen over Mos Eisley and its citizens had begun lighting fireworks to celebrate Boonta Eve. After a quick meal of bantha jerky and biscuits, (Y/N) and Din climbed up into the starfighter’s cockpit and as Grogu jumped up onto (Y/N)’s lap, Peli helped R5 settle into the starfighter’s new droid port.

“Oh, come on, now, don’t be a coward. You’re an astromech, act like one!” Peli scolded before fixing (Y/N) and Din with a knowing look. “I wouldn’t rely too much on this one. Its circuitry’s a little fragile.”

“I thought you said it was built for adventu-?”

The mechanic suddenly slammed the windshield shut and shouted over the engines and the fireworks exploding overhead. “What? Sorry, I can’t hear you!”

Biting her lip to keep from smiling while Din grumbled under his breath, (Y/N) steered the starfighter upwards and remarked, “Peli really is one of a kind, isn’t she?”

While her husband mumbled something in Mando’a, Peli waved alongside her pit droids and called out, “May the Force be with you!”

(Y/N) flew the starfighter over the streets of Mos Eisley and her heart warmed when she noticed Grogu watching the colorful fireworks illuminating the sky in silent awe; Din noticed too, lifting a gloved hand from her waist to stabilize the child as he sat on (Y/N)’s shoulder and pressed his little clawed hands against the windshield. “All right, kid. You ready for an adventure?”

Grogu squealed in delight and R5 anxiously beeped away in the droid port as the starfighter made its way through Tatooine’s upper atmosphere and shot off into hyperspace, charting a course to Mandalore and to Din’s imminent redemption.

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

Several hours later, (Y/N) was nervously biting her lip and trying her hardest to think positive thoughts as the starfighter came out of hyperspace. “I knew that the Empire did a number on Mandalore, but this…?”

The planet’s surface had been completely destroyed in the Purge and from what little they could make out through the intense weather patterns sweeping through its atmosphere, it was indeed crystalized and barren of the usual signs of life. It was a sight that (Y/N) had seen time and time again throughout the Rebellion, but knowing that the planet before them was near and dear to her husband and his religion made her blood run cold and led to her silently cursing the Empire for what they’d done.

Grogu whimpered in fright but Din was quick to console him. “It looks scary, I know. But it was once green and beautiful, back when the songs were written. It’s Mandalore, the homeworld of our people; every Mandalorian can trace their roots back to this planet, and the beskar mines deep within. And you know what? I’ve never been there, either.” Din pointed to one of the planet’s distant moons. “I grew up there, on that moon. Concordia.”

“And that’s Kalevala, where we visited Bo-Katan,” (Y/N) added and gestured towards a dot on the starfighter’s scope. “It’s in the same system.”

Grogu cooed and wrapped his hand around one of Din’s fingers as the Mandalorian continued, “A Mandalorian has to understand maps and know their way around. That way, you’ll never be lost.”

Tightening her grip on the controls, (Y/N) surveyed Mandalore’s upper atmosphere with cautious eyes and nodded. “I think I can get us through all that, but it’ll be a bumpy ride.” She leaned down to press a kiss onto Grogu’s wrinkled head. “Hold on tight, little guy.” With a sharp twist of the controls, she piloted the starfighter down through the planet’s storm-filled sky, looking past the sleet and rain pummeling the windshield to avoid the sporadic lightning strikes that lit up the darkened clouds. After several tense moments, they emerged from the storm and flew across the clear skies of Mandalore’s capital city. “See? I told you I could get us through all that,” (Y/N) chuckled after breathing a sigh of relief.

“We never doubted you once, alor’ad. Did we, kid?”

Grogu cuddled up against (Y/N)’s chest and she gave his head a quick pat before smacking the starfighter’s blinking console. “Looks like the fusion bombs from the Purge disrupted the magnetic field around the planet. From the surface, we won’t be able to communicate with anyone out of atmosphere, so we have to be careful.”

She could feel Din nod behind her. “Down here, we’re completely cut off from the rest of the galaxy.”

Spotting a flat patch of crystalized earth, (Y/N) landed the starfighter down onto it and switched off the engines before addressing the astromech through the comms. “Okay, R5, we’re gonna need you to scout ahead and analyze the atmosphere.”

R5’s beeps and whistles were interrupted by an impatient Din. “That wasn’t a question.” He reached past (Y/N) and unceremoniously released the astromech from his droid port, ignoring the pointed look that (Y/N) gave him as he pointed towards a cluster of green-colored crystals nearby. “Go over to that split in the rock, and take an air sample of the ruins below.”

The three of them watched the astromech reluctantly wheel itself towards the rocks and (Y/N) stroked one of Grogu’s ears to soothe his anxious whimpers. “R5 will be fine, little guy, we just need him to take some readings to make sure it’s safe for us.”

The astromech stopped and turned his top to look back at the ship and beep. “Don’t be a baby. Just get the samples we need, and hurry up.”

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to be just a little nicer to the poor droid. I think he’s intimidated by you…” (Y/N) pointed out but before her husband could reply, R5 disappeared from view and Grogu let out a fearful wail. “Here, Grogu, look. You can watch him on the scope.” The child watched the red dot that represented R5 move farther and farther away, and (Y/N)’s brow shot up in surprise when the dot vanished from the scope altogether. “…Dank farrik.”

“R5, come in. Do you read me?” There was only static coming through the comms. “It’s probably just interference.”

Grogu stared up at Din with eyes wide in fear and even (Y/N) was beginning to feel that something was wrong. “Sweetheart, I’ve got a bad feeling about this and so does Grogu. R5 could be in some serious trouble right now.”

Her husband looked between the both of them before sighing and giving them a nod. “Fine, I’ll go get him. Normally, this is droid work; I was hoping to avoid going out there.”

“Wait, I’m going with you-”

“Alor’ad, someone has to watch Grogu and the ship in case the droid’s disappearance is some sort of diversion.” Din lifted the edge of his helmet so he could kiss her furrowed brow. “I’ll be okay, I promise.” He waited for her to nod before reaching into one of the side compartments and pulling out a portable oxygen mask. “I’ll pressurize my helmet, but you’ll need to wear this while I open the top and Grogu, you’ll need to seal yourself in your pod.”

Grogu closed his pram and (Y/N) fastened the oxygen pack onto her blaster belt. “Be careful, Din.”

“I’ll be right back.” Din waited for her to secure the mask over her mouth and nose before opening the starfighter’s windshield and climbing down; as soon as it slid back into place, she pulled the mask off and the child emerged from his pram, his large ears drooping at the sight of the Mandalorian walking off towards the rocks in the distance.

“It’s okay, little guy, he’ll be right back,” (Y/N) reassured him, but the ominous feeling remained festering in the pit of her stomach and judging by the way Grogu was looking at her, she suspected that he felt the same way. “I don’t like this. I’m gonna go and help him, all right?” Grogu cooed and patted her hand before closing himself up in his pram again, and she took a deep breath, slipping her oxygen mask back on and climbing down from the cockpit. With a small wave to Grogu anxiously watching her, (Y/N) drew her blaster and slowly crossed the clearing to the jagged crevice in the rock. She entered the dimly-lit tunnel with the intent of quietly reconnoitering, but the sounds of battle ahead urged her forward into a run.

When she turned another corner, she was met with the terrifying sight of Din fighting off three snarling humanoid creatures; he held the Darksaber in his hand and as she watched, he cut one of the creatures along its torso and let it roll off the nearby cliff overlooking a massive cavern housing the ruins of a sprawling city. He sidestepped the second’s attack and shoved it hard over the cliff, but the third creature slammed its club against his back; before it could strike him again, (Y/N) shot it in its torso and bought Din enough time to counter its strikes and stab it through the chest with the Darksaber. He retracted the illuminated blade and pushed the corpse over the cliff as (Y/N) hurried over to him.

“I told you I didn’t have a good feeling about all this,” She joked and handed him his dropped blaster. “Are you okay?”

Din nodded, holstering his weapons and giving her hand a squeeze before gesturing to the opposite side of the tunnel. “I’m fine, and I think the droid is too.” R5 beeped and whistled in indignation as he laid on a pile of crystalized earth, and the both of them exchanged a look before striding over to him. They both righted the weighty astromech and while (Y/N) brushed off his sides, Din gave his domed top a pat. “Okay, you’re all right. Now come on, let’s get you back to the ship.”

They followed R5 out of the tunnels and crossed the clearing to the starfighter; Grogu’s face brightened in relief when they came into view and he tapped an impatient hand against the windshield as they stopped beside the ship. “Hang on, little guy. Not until we check the toxicity.”

“You got an analysis on the atmosphere yet?” Din asked the astromech. R5 replied in binary and projected a graph into the space before them, and both Din and (Y/N) exchanged a look of surprise. “The charts were wrong; the atmosphere is breathable.”

“Which means that Bo-Katan was right,” (Y/N) breathed in realization, slipping off her oxygen mask and opening the starfighter’s windshield. “Mandalore’s not cursed. It was all a lie spread by the Empire to keep the Mandalorians in exile.”

After situating Grogu in his pram and helping R5 back into the starfighter’s droid port, they drew their blasters and cautiously navigated the tunnels, their senses on high alert after Din’s ambush. They found themselves standing on the same cliff overlooking the ruined city, and they both holstered their blasters. “That’s the Civic Center; this is where Bo-Katan said to go.” He wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s waist. “Hold on tight.”

(Y/N) flung both arms around Din’s neck just as he jumped off the cliff and activated his jetpack, pressing her face against his chestplate to avoid looking down and watching their slow descent. When their feet finally touched the ground, she leaned back far enough to meet the visor of Din’s helmet and sighed. “I still can’t help but think this would be less terrifying if I had my own jetpack.”

“You’re perfectly safe with me, alor’ad.” Her husband suddenly scooped her up so that one arm supported her back while the other curled under the crook of her knees, and she could hear the smile in his voice as she clung tighter to him. “Besides, I wouldn’t be able to hold you like this if you had your own jetpack.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and glanced around, realizing that they were standing on a crumbling walkway only halfway down the chasm. “The mines should be further down. I guess we’re on our own from here.”

Grogu babbled in agreement from his pram and Din jumped down from the walkway, the gentle hum of the jetpack echoing off the walls and structures they passed on their way down. When they reached the bottom, Din gently set her down and she drew her blaster as he switched on his helmet’s flashlight; she studied the massive pipes that they walked past and looked down at the water dripping from the walls. “Well, I think it’s safe to assume that these waters lead down to the mines and the Living Waters. We follow the water and we’ll find the mines in no time.”

Din nudged her arm and nodded towards an opening on their left. “Look, that passage heads down.”

They climbed down the slight slope and walked through the opening, silently examining the debris littering the ground. Spotting the familiar t-shaped visor of a Mandalorian helmet poking out of the dirt, Din knelt down and (Y/N) followed as he carefully tugged the sculpted beskar loose; Grogu cooed sadly and (Y/N) rested a comforting hand on her husband’s pauldron, but before either of them could say anything, the earth around them exploded and they were tightly encased in metal brackets. The trap flipped over, pressing Din’s body into (Y/N)’s and her back against the brackets, and two needles stabbed themselves into their necks, causing (Y/N)’s vision to darken and eventually turn black.

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

“…wake up. C’mon, alor’ad, open your eyes for me…please, (Y/N), you’ve gotta open your eyes…”

Groaning in pain, (Y/N) struggled to open her heavy eyes and when she finally succeeded, she was met with the sight of Din’s helmet directly in front of her. “D-Din? What happened?”

“Thank the Maker,” He breathed a sigh of relief. “We were caught in some sort of cyborg’s trap. I saw some beskar helmets when it brought us in here; I think it harvests Mandalorians.”

She was unable to move her head much but she could tell that their bracketed trap was suspended above the ground in a dimly-lit chamber. Before she could ask about Grogu, the cyborg approached their trap and reached a mechanized hand through the brackets to remove Din’s blaster and the Darksaber. It tossed the weapons onto the ground and chattered to itself as it crawled across the chamber; when she could no longer hear it, she shakily released the breath she’d been holding and whispered, “My blaster’s wedged between my back and the brackets, but I can’t move my arms.”

“Neither can I…” Din shifted above her and grunted in annoyance. “I don’t know what that thing injected us with, but my head feels like it’s been trampled by a bantha.”

A quiet shuffling nearby drew his attention and (Y/N)’s brow furrowed at his small gasp. “What is it, Din?”

“Grogu.” They both craned their necks to look at the child, who was standing near the trap and holding a clawed hand out towards them; he closed his eyes and after a moment’s pause, the trap began to shake but it loudly clanged against its control panel, drawing the cyborg’s attention and spurring Din into calling out, “Get to Bo-Katan!”

Grogu jumped out of the way of the electrical blast that the cyborg fired from its staff, leapt into his pram and sped out of the chamber. The cyborg disappeared into a separate area of the chamber, and (Y/N)’s eyes prickled with unshed tears. “He’s gonna be okay. He’s gonna find Bo-Katan, and we’ll be out of this mess in no time.”

“Of course we will,” Din agreed, trying his hardest to keep his voice even and calm. “We’re gonna be fine, alor’ad, I promise.”

(Y/N) wasn’t sure how long it took for her to realize that she was taking shallow breaths or that her limbs were beginning to grow numb but when she did, she couldn’t help but wheeze out a breathless chuckle. “Usually, I’m quite fond of having you on top of me but I think I prefer it without all the beskar.”

Her husband didn’t laugh or make another quip, instead trying to lift some of his weight off of her chest but to no avail. “You need to take slower breaths…regulate your breathing…do that for me, alor’ad?”

Din’s voice was cutting in and out and after (Y/N) blinked hard in an attempt to clear her eyes, she noticed the black dots starting to litter her vision. “D-Din? I can’t…can’t breathe…”

“I know, ner cyar’ika alor’ad, I know, but you’ve…eyes open for me, okay? Don’t fall asleep…”

Everything around her began to fade away, from her husband’s panicked voice and the distant creaking of the cyborg to the pain encasing her entire body, and the last thing she did was thank whatever deity that was watching over them that her end was painless.

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

Dreams of Naboo and a woman’s mournful yet beautiful singing abruptly ended when (Y/N) gasped for air, her eyes flying open and her hand reaching for her blaster when memories of their capture filled her foggy mind.

“Easy, Captain,” Bo-Katan soothed and held her hands out in a peaceful gesture; the Nite Owl was seated by a small fire beside Grogu, who squealed in delight when he saw that (Y/N) was conscious, and it appeared as though they were back on the cliff that overlooked the ruined Civic Center. “You were out for a while – lack of oxygen mixed with a bad reaction to whatever that thing injected you with – but you’re safe now.”

(Y/N) lowered her blaster and smiled a little when the child hurried over to her and crawled into her lap. “I knew you’d be able to find Bo-Katan. Good job, my little hero.” Hugging Grogu to her chest, she glanced up at Bo-Katan with a grateful nod. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The Nite Owl’s lips curved into a smile and she gestured to the cups she was heating over the fire. “I’m making pog soup; trust me, it’ll make you feel better in no time.”

Grogu cooed in interest and returned to his spot by the fire while (Y/N) looked over at the unconscious Mandalorian lying beside her; his beskar-covered chest was slowly rising and falling and when she realized that he didn’t have any visible injuries, she breathed a quiet sigh of relief before scooting closer to lean over him. “Din?” She placed a hand on the beskar covering his cheek and caressed her thumb along the metal. “Sweetheart, it’s me.”

A moment passed and Din slowly began to stir. “(Y/N)?” His gloved hand moved to hold her waist and gently tug her down into his embrace. “Maker, I thought that you’d…you wouldn’t wake up, and I thought…” He choked up, unable to finish his sentence; his free hand cupped her cheek as she rested her forehead against his in a Keldabe Kiss. “I think I’d prefer having you on top of me from now on, alor’ad.”

(Y/N) let out a watery laugh at that. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad,” Din murmured and took hold of her hand, slipping it beneath the edge of his helmet and pressing his lips against her fingertips.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika riduur.”

With a final smile, (Y/N) sat up and helped the Mandalorian sit next to her, and he finally looked over at where Bo-Katan was preparing the soup by the fire. “What happened?”

The Nite Owl shrugged. “I saved your lives.”

“How did you find us?”

“Your kid.” Bo-Katan smiled and nodded towards Grogu. “He’s tougher than he looks, and he’s quite the navigator.”

Din sat up straighter with (Y/N)’s help. “Thank you for rescuing us.” She nodded again but remained silent as she worked. “You were right: Mandalore is not cursed.”

“Was I?” Bo-Katan asked jadedly. “Look around, there’s nothing left. A great society is now a memory. I once ruled here for a brief time…now, it’s destroyed.” She sighed and stood, handing one cup of soup to (Y/N) and another to Din. “Nothing to cling to but ashes.”

(Y/N) drank her soup and smiled to herself when warmth returned to her limbs, but Din’s helmeted head tilted to the side in confusion as he studied the cup in his hand. “What is this?”

“You’ve never eaten pog soup?”

“…No.”

Bo-Katan chuckled and turned to pack her rations away while Din lifted his helmet up to take a drink; when he had his fill, he gave the rest to Grogu, who downed the soup in record time. “Can you appreciate the irony? Any Mandalorian worth their armor was raised on this since they were his size.” Din slowly got to his feet and (Y/N) followed, picking the child up and placing him in his pram while Din retrieved his weapons. “You should rest. I’ll get you all back to my ship soon enough.”

“I’m not going with you.”

The Nite Owl frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I must continue to the Mines of Mandalore so that I may be redeemed.”

“We must continue,” (Y/N) corrected and met the visor of his helmet with a firm stare. “We’re not letting you go back down there by yourself.”

Din sighed but nodded in agreement as an exasperated Bo-Katan rolled her eyes. “I honestly think it’s adorable that you actually believe these children’s stories, but there is nothing magic about the waters.”

“Without the Creed, what are we? What do we stand for?” The Mandalorian demanded, reattaching his jetpack while (Y/N) patted Grogu’s wrinkled head. “Our people are scattered like stars in the galaxy; the Creed is how we survived. You rescued my wife and myself and I’ll always be in your debt, but I can’t – we can’t – go with you until I fulfill my obligation.”

Bo-Katan took a deep breath. “I will take you.”

(Y/N) arched a brow in surprise. “To the Living Waters?”

“Yes. You’ll never find them on your own…not in all this wreckage.”

Din exchanged a brief look with (Y/N) before giving the Nite Owl a nod. “Thank you.”

She smiled humorlessly. “Don’t thank me until you see them.”

They stomped out the fire and once Din scooped (Y/N) into his arms, they stepped off the cliff and flew down to the bottom of the chasm. Hopefully we won’t stumble across any more surprises, she thought to herself as she drew her blaster and walked between the two Mandalorians down a pathway.

“It’s hard to believe that this all was once filled with our kind…”

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Bo-Katan replied, her gloved fingers tightening around the helmet she carried against her hip. “You’d never know it, looking at all this destruction.”

(Y/N) nodded in agreement. “It looks like it’s been centuries. While I was in the Rebellion, I saw many of the cities and planets destroyed by the Empire, but none of them looked quite like this.”

“The Empire set out to punish us Mandalorians, to wipe away our memory.”

With her heart filling with sympathy for the Nite Owl walking beside her, (Y/N) quietly remarked, “It must pain you to see it like this after witnessing its beauty.”

Bo-Katan spared her a brief glance. “What pains me is seeing our own kind fight one another time and time again. Killing each other for reasons too confusion to explain. It made us weak; we had no hope to resist being smashed by the fist of the Empire.” Din shifted uncomfortably, no doubt reminded that the Children of the Watch had broken away first and were not there in Mandalore’s time of need, and (Y/N) gave his hand a comforting squeeze as Bo-Katan pointed at a crevice in the rock ahead. “There. The entrance to the Mines of Mandalore.”

They followed the Nite Owl into the crevice and after (Y/N)’s eyes adjusted when she tossed a hovering light sphere into the air above them, she glanced around the space in interest. “This area looks much older.”

“The mines have been here for thousands of years,” Bo-Katan replied. “The Living Waters are in the chambers below.”

It was then that Din finally spoke up. “Have you been there?”

“Yes, when I was a child.”

“Really?”

A small smile began to play across Bo-Katan’s face. “I was part of the royal family. I took the Creed and was showered with gifts, but the rituals were all just theatre for our subjects. They loved watching the princess recite the Mandalorian tenets as her father looked on proudly.” She snorted in amusement. “Such a heartwarming spectacle.”

“Maybe he was proud,” Din speculated, and (Y/N) knew it was more for Bo-Katan’s sake than his own.

“I know he was. I didn’t embarrass him in front of everyone.”

The tunnel was silent for a moment before Din spoke again. “Your father sounds like an interesting man. I would’ve liked to have known him.”

“He was a great man.” Bo-Katan swallowed thickly and kept her gaze trained ahead. “He died defending Mandalore.”

Din stopped in his tracks, leading (Y/N) and the Nite Owl to stop walking and Grogu’s pram to hover in the air nearby, and he bowed his head in respect. “This is the Way.”

They continued down the tunnel, the silence amongst their small group accompanied only by the steady dripping of water. As they walked, (Y/N) thought about Bo-Katan’s glowing praise of her father and felt a familiar pang in her chest; she’d never known her own father – not even his name – and all her mother told her was that it was because of his choice that he wasn’t in their lives. When she was a child, she often wondered what her father was like and grew envious of the other children in her town who had two parents, and when she was a teenager and already suffered her mother’s untimely death, that childlike curiosity soured and turned to anger. Now that she was grown, the fiery anger was gone and had been replaced by an empty feeling, not quite sadness but a little like grief. Grief for the little girl who was forced to fend for herself after the only person in the galaxy who loved her passed away, grief for the young woman who spent years alone with only her pain and fury for company, and grief for the woman who would never have the chance to introduce her honorable husband and adoptive son to a father filled with pride for his daughter.

“Alor’ad? Everything okay?”

(Y/N) blinked and gave Din a brief smile. “Yep, just lost in thought.”

The Mandalorian’s gloved hand tightened around hers, keeping her grounded in the present and focused on the end of tunnel as it widened to reveal a massive chamber filled with inky-black water that was smooth as glass. “Here you go: The Living Waters. I want you two to get the full tour.” Bo-Katan chuckled and walked over to a tarnished plaque on the wall. “‘These mines date back to the age of the first Mandalore. According to ancient folklore, the mines were once a Mythosaur lair; Mandalore the Great is said to have tamed the mythical beast. It is from these legends that the skull signet was adopted and became the symbol of our planet.’”

While Bo-Katan teasingly read from the plaque, Din and (Y/N) stood by the steps that led down into the waters; she looked over at her husband and although she couldn’t see his face, she could tell from the way he stared out at the waters that he was overcome with emotion. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

Din silently nodded and went about removing his cowl, weapons and jetpack, setting them down on the stone floor and turning back to (Y/N); he leaned down and gave her a lingering Keldabe Kiss before slowly descending the steps into the waters. “I swear on my name and the names of the Ancestors…” (Y/N) anxiously bit her lip and both Bo-Katan and Grogu moved closer as the water quickly covered Din’s boots. “That I shall walk the Way of the Mand’alor…” The water soon encased his torso. “And the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart.”

Just as Din finished reciting the Mandalorian Creed and (Y/N)’s shoulders relaxed, he dropped down into the waters and entirely disappeared from view. “Din!” Bo-Katan quickly put her helmet on and jumped into the waters after him while Grogu wailed in alarm. “It’s okay, little guy, your dad’s gonna be okay…” She scooped the child into her arms and held him close, worry filling her heart as she stared down at the inky-black waters that were meant to redeem her husband, not condemn him.

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

Mando’a Translations:

Ner cyar’ika alor’ad-My darling captain Alor’ad-Captain Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad-I love you, my darling captain Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika riduur-I love you, my darling husband

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! Oh, and I’ve created a Spotify playlist of all my favorite music from the world of Star Wars, so if you’re interested in checking it out the link is down below!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KuSKJhVOPPvxdJ9YHeo4M?si=2977ff31bf0c4bdd

Chapter Thirty-Four

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty @sinon36 @seninjakitey @thatonedindjarinfan @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mostclevermiss @momc95 @welcometothepedroverse @sarahjkl82-blog @elinedjarin @itsnottilly @crowleysqueenofhell @goldielocks2004 @wondergal2001 @groovy-lady @impala1967666 @fluffy-canada-pancakes @icee228

#taking care of business #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #the child #baby yoda #peli motto #r5d4 #bo katan kryze #star wars #din djarin x f!reader

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ryehouses · 1 year

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Any Boba POV? 😍

i have. so much. boba POV. i am bad at math and they're scattered across several documents, but last time i counted it was something like 80k of just. miscellaneous boba.

so, here's one from very early on, ft. fennec being exasperated and boba starting to figure out this whole crime boss thing!

in which fennec has an idea.

“If it keeps going like this,” said Fennec, flopping down on the wide stone steps of an empty house in the Gleaning of Mos Eisley, settling tiredly down next to Boba, “you’re going to be dead before the month is out, you know.”

Boba grunted. She was exaggerating. He could make it another two or three months, probably. The assassins that the Hutts had been sending hadn’t been that good.

Fennec sighed and handed Boba a scrap of cloth, which he gratefully pressed against the shallow wound in his side.

“That need stitches?” Fennec asked.

Boba shook his head. “Just bacta,” he said. This particular assassin – a sharp-faced young Zabrak woman who had come at Boba around the corner of an alley with a knife – had scored a lucky hit just past the edge of Boba’s cuirass, but Boba’d moved faster than she had expected him too, and he’d turned her aside before she’d managed to stick him properly.

“You sure?”

Boba rolled his eyes, since Fennec couldn’t see through his buc’ye to catch him doing it. “Yeah, I’m sure. Quit worrying about it.”

Fennec snorted. “No,” she said, implacable as always. She looked past Boba to where the Zabrak woman lay cooling in the street, sand already beginning to collect against her body. “How’d she get the drop on you? She’s about as big as you are.”

“She didn’t get the drop on me,” Boba grumbled back, pressing harder against the wound on his side. It really wasn’t deep; he could feel the flow of blood slowing already. “She just – got lucky.”

The flat look Fennec shot Boba scored him deeper than the would-be assassin’s knife. Fennec was, as usual, mostly right; the Zabrak had surprised Boba, and she shouldn’t have been able to.

“You’re slipping,” said Fennec, frankly.

“You’re slipping,” Boba shot back. Fennec had been a few dozen yards behind Boba when the Zabrak’d jumped for him, and she was usually just off his left side.

Fennec just shrugged. “A bit,” she admitted. “And I think you’re getting even less sleep than I am, so. At this rate, someone is going to get the drop on you, probably within the month, and that’ll be the end of it.”

“Optimistic, aren’t you?”

Fennec spread her hands. She didn’t try to justify her thinking and didn’t really have to, anyway – Boba understood. “We’re stretched too thin, boss,” she said.

That was an understatement. Back in Jabba’s day, Tatooine had been packed with every sort of skug-sucking lowlife – Boba and Fennec included – eager to get on a syndicate boss’s payroll. Jabba’d had no shortage of guards to flank his every move or hunters to clear the streets any time he’d wanted to visit Mos Eisley.

Bib Fortuna, however, had been an idiot incapable of running a cantina on Canto Bight, let alone a syndicate, so by the time Boba and Fennec had come back to Tatooine with plans of their own, the only beings left in the palace had been a handful of terrified slaves, one battered silver protocol droid and three spice smugglers that Fennec had run out before they’d even thought to offer Boba their services.

Boba had let the slaves go and had scrapped the droid. He and Fennec had still had a few contacts in Mos Eisley who’d been willing enough to sign on, most of them friends from the bad old days under Jabba. Kasyyk, Theran, Ay-Two and his human partner Zero. One of the Twi’Lek women Fortuna’d been keeping around had signed on, which had been a pleasant surprise, but that left Boba with an outfit he could count with two hands, and a crew of seven wasn’t big enough to run much of anything, let alone a piece – now an admittedly very small piece, but still – of the Hutt empire.

Kark the Hutts anyway, Boba thought, irritated. He was pretty sure that it was a Hutt who’d been sending the assassins after him, though he and Fennec hadn’t been able to figure out which Hutt it was yet.

Fennec kept muttering about building a network of spies, but Boba rather thought they should figure out how to walk down the street in Mos Eisley – Boba’s city – without getting stabbed first.

“Yeah,” Boba said, answering Fennec. “I know.”

Fennec’s mouth pulled down. Not in defeat or even in annoyance, but in concentration. She was thinking. Boba, still bleeding, let her think. He’d been up all night the past week trying to figure out the same problem.

Jabba’s forces – his army of bounty hunters and smugglers and guards and legbreakers, his dancing girls and his bartenders, his clerks and accountants and fixers and thugs – had either died with him at the Pit of Carkoon, like Boba’d been supposed to, had drifted off towards other, more profitable work, like Fennec, or had been chewed up and spat out by the galaxy and its endless, grinding gears. Fortuna’d gotten a lot of the old outfit killed. There was hardly anyone left, let alone anyone who could be trusted not to accept a handful of peggats from the Hutts and put a knife in Boba’s back while he was sleeping.

Fennec’s got more recent knowledge than me, though.

Boba had spent the better part of the last five years with the Spotted Anooba far out in the desert, away from all of this. Fennec had been here.

“We’ve only just started digging around under the palace,” Fennec said, after a minute. “There’s – there’s not a lot of credits down there, but there’s plenty of other assets. You could raise a tidy pile of clink. Hire some mercs, maybe. At least until we get some cargo moving in and out.”

Boba relaxed a bit. “Thought of that,” Boba admitted. “But is there enough down there to win in a bidding war, d’you think? Mercs are hutuun’yc. If we put up a few hundred thousand credits, only for Gardulla or Gorga to put up a few million – ”

“Alright,” Fennec said, tilting her head. “Fair point.” Then she narrowed her eyes, which usually meant that she’d gotten an idea. “So we need more muscle – and more brains, Boba, I don’t care how much you like Kasyyk – and we need someone who can’t be bought or bribed.”

“Good luck finding someone like that on Tatooine,” Boba replied. He let the comment about Kasyyk slide. Fennec was just annoyed that Kasyyk, not expecting a known assassin to show up at his door, had tossed Fennec through said door and into the wall behind it.

“We don’t have to just look on Tatooine,” Fennec pointed out.

Boba snorted. “You’ve got time to go wandering around Nar Shaddaa?”

“Not Nar Shaddaa either,” said Fennec.

The wound in Boba’s side was starting to throb now, the flow of blood slowing but the ache of an injury setting in. He gritted his teeth. “Say what you mean,” he said. Boba could trust Fennec to do that, if he asked.

Fennec shot Boba a slightly-less dire look. Her idea was a good one, then.

“Who do we know,” Fennec said, propping her elbows up on her knees, “that’s a good fighter, a good hunter and can’t be bought? Who would probably try to punch whoever thought to buy him out of a contract he’d already taken, Hutt or not?”

Boba blinked. “You don’t mean Djarin,” he said.

“Of course I mean Djarin,” Fennec said. “Unless you know any other loca bounty hunters. Djarin’s good. He got me, you know.”

“I know he’s good,” Boba replied, confused. Djarin’s skill wasn’t at question. “But he’s not the syndicate-joining type, Shand.”

“What, you think he’s the crusading type?” Boba and Fennec had left Djarin on a light cruiser with Bo-Katan Kryze and a pair of her fanatics. Boba didn’t know what Kryze wanted to do next and he didn’t care, either, as long as she did it on the opposite end of the galaxy, but he’d assumed that Djarin would band up with her. That was what Mandalorians did, after all. They stuck with their own.

“Well,” Boba admitted, “he did take on the Empire.”

“To get his kid back,” Fennec disagreed. “He’s no Rebellion hero or resistance fighter, Boba. He’s murishani. Like you.”

“You think we’ve got enough clink lying around to keep him?” Boba asked, still skeptical. Djarin had been – tolerable. Competent. He had kept his word and had been only faintly surprised when Boba’d kept his, which had been a nice change from most of Boba’s interactions with other Mandalorians. “I don’t know if he’ll want to fight, Fenn. He took a few good hits on that cruiser.”

Djarin’d been hurt badly enough to need a dip in a bacta tank. Boba’d seen him out of the bacta, but that had been a few weeks ago. He didn’t know what Djarin was up to now.

A trained Mandalorian’s a good asset, though, Boba thought, grudgingly. Fennec was right about that. Djarin was a skilled hunter. And he had connections on Tatooine that Boba didn’t have. Djarin had saved that one town, with the Marshal who’d been wearing Boba’s armor. The ahra of Tatooine moved through Mos Pelgo.

If Djarin could be convinced – if he accepted a contract –

Fennec gave Boba one of her knowing half-smiles. She reached into her coat, then pulled out a lump of dark grey metal, and slid it to Boba.

One hand still pressed to his side, Boba picked up what she’d offered him, and raised his eyebrows.

“Beskar,” he said. He didn’t have to touch the metal bare-handed to know what it was. He would recognize beskar blind. His body knew it, even if he’d never been offered any. Even if he’d had to take what little he had. “Where’d you get this?”

“Where do you think?” Fennec replied. “The worm had a great big pile of it in one of his little treasure-caves. Worth a bit more than a peggat to a Mandalorian, don’t you think?”

Boba stared at the beskar ingot for a second, some of his exhaustion dropping away. He was glad that he’d found Fennec in the desert. She did have a unique way of approaching a problem. “Alright,” Boba said, curling a hand over the metal. “That’s not a bad idea.”

#ast asks #ast 'verse pov tag

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