Iâm going to start titling this section as Thursday Night Thots
Youâre at a seedy Coruscant bar. Things were bad when the Empire was here, but now that theyâre gone itâs even worse. The New Republic doesnât dare touch the planet, and as a result the entire world has turned completely lawless. If youâre lucky you live in a militia neighborhood that hasnât corrupted itself yet, if notâŠ
Which is exactly the neighborhood youâre in. Itâs close to a holiday. The bars are packed. You try and avoid the crowds but only manage to end up in a less than trustworthy establishment with a few pals. However they soon drift from you, and soon you find yourself alone, tipsy, and an easy target.
You think the Rhodian is nice at first, sweet and flirtatious. Yet then his friend crowds in from behind you- and youâre too tipsy to try and raise your voice, call for your friends who have slipped off into darkened corners with their own chosen partners. The Rhodianâs hands are wandering and you shut your eyes, breathe hard as your hands clutch at the bar counter.
Yet his touch is ripped from you with a yell, and you turn your hazy vision towards a figure whoâs armor flickers under the iridescent glow of the bar lights. He takes one, two punches to your attacker to incapacitate him, and then wordlessly dodges the sloppy hit from his friend before using his whipchord to pull him feet out from under him and stun him.
Youâre cowering against the corner of the bar- terrified, skin too cold to touch, eyes wide and arms shaking. The Mandalorian whips to you- and under his expressionless stare you whither. Yet instead of stalking towards you, raising his blaster at you, he simply holsters the weapon before asking in a low voice that scrapes against his throat: âAre you alright?â
It takes you a moment, but you nod, limbs still shaking. You must seem like a small thing, because the Mandalorian takes a step towards you, extending a hand as a type of treaty before speaking again: âItâs okay, youâre safe. I want after you.â
You hesitate, but his glove is warm to the touch under your fingers.
âCan you make it home by yourself?â He asks, and despite his intimidating appearance his words are genuine, sincere. You quietly shake your head in response, not trusting your legs to carry you hone in the condition youâre in.
The Mandalorian seems to sense this too, because suddenly heâs leading you outside, his hand on the small of your back as you shiver. He flags down a cab and helps you inside, paying the driver and instructing him under no uncertain terms to take you directly home and make sure you get inside safely.
âWait.â You speak at last, finding your voice as he turns away from the speeder. ââŠThank you.â
The Mandalorian looks over his shoulder to regard you just for a moment, but you see his hands unclench, his shoulders loosen just a fraction. Then, quietly, he speaks only to you.
2087
turnnoffyourmind
gummygunk
discoholicmusic
dailybridgerton
amandla
