Opposites Attract (The Mandalorian x Jedi Reader) Star Wars: The Mandalorian

one

Summary

It was a rather normal shift for the Padawan, or so she thought. She spots a man clad in armour walking with a floating orb by his side, seeming to hold a creature of some sort inside. Curiosity hits her as he may be her one way ticket out from grips of her boss, threatening to reveal her true identity to the public. But why was a Jedi Padawan working as a dishwasher in the outer rim of the galaxy?

Word count: 3847

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"Run, padawan!"

"I won't leave you, master!"

"You must go, now!"

"But my training-"

"I have taught you all that you needed to know. I am so sorry you were not able to complete your training, my padawan."

A sudden gasp escaped from your chapped lips as you bolted up in a sitting position, you could hear the blood rushing within your ears as your heart drummed against your ribcage. Sweat dripped from your chin as your chest heaved with laboured breathing. Your hand brushed messily through your entangled hair attempting to get yourself together, which finally worked. You were haunted from that ongoing nightmare every time you closed your eyes to slumber. Despite a few years already passing from that tragic event, your nightmare made sure as if it's only happened yesterday. 

"Damn it," you shakily cursed under your breath. 

Your head whipped towards the direction where a clock was hung on one of the four walls of your dormitory bedroom. You had just about an hour before having to open up the bar for your 'oh so hard working employer.' It was quite the opposite in fact, he treated you like the sand he tramples on under his muddy shoes. He also happens to be your landlord. Sure, he gave you a place to stay and at least you slept under a roof and not outside like some beggar relentlessly begging for credits. That was always good, right? Well if being overworked and underpaid from your employer is what you call good, then best of luck. 

With a heavy sigh, you finally got up from your bed in which an irritating creak was heard from the flimsy springs of your old mattress. A squeaking noise emitted from the nozzles on the water tap as you twisted them, quickly splashing cold water against your face. Chills immediately ran down your spine as the freezing water made contact with the bare skin of your face. Your once tired eyes darted open from the cold feeling, you needed to stay awake while you worked. 

Squeezing toothpaste out, you quickly shoved your toothbrush in your mouth to eliminate the bad odor from your morning breath. You couldn't help but take a look at the reflection of your state right now. Although you did posses a youthful appearance, the eyebags and dark circles that formed under your eyes were quite prominent. It was clearly from all the stress and anxiety that you've been feeling these past few years. Running and hiding from ex-imperials was no easy task. Plus, they have a bounty for your head that could make any bounty hunter swim in a pool of credits for days. 

That was one good thing about being a dishwasher; no one ever pays attention to you. 

Upon exiting the bathroom and back into your bedroom once again, the noises from outside was an indicator that the day was about to begin. From the vendors and tradesmen bargaining with each other, to the Jawas conversing with one another, most likely plotting to strip valuable parts from any machinery that laid idle in one area.

The rays from the sun slipped through the cracks of the blinds of your windows, shining lines all over your dark bedroom. It was no more than the average bedroom; smaller in size along with an old bed and a closet. You never really spent much time there to begin with, your workplace was where you basically lived. From opening until closing while your employer made drinks for many customers in all shapes, sizes, and species alike. Many customers that came to the bar were usually bounty hunters from the guild who come for drinks to wind down from a stressful and difficult profession. Whether they be humans, droids, quarrens, devaronians, zabraks, trandoshans, you name them, all share the profession of being a bounty hunter.