#IN THE TATOOINE SUNS WHERE HIS SKIN WILL BURN OFF

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Clan of Three - Chapter 4

Chapter Four: The Gunslinger and Past

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with an undiscovered lineage. An unlikely group to travel the galaxy together.

Word Count: 5.3K

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

Warnings: fighting/violence, massive angst, childhood memories, death, just a really sad chapter

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Leaving Sorgan was a hard moment you felt actually happy there. You weren’t running from the Guild or the Empire able to live on some planet without fear but that soon quickly came to an end. The Razor Crest zooms through space barely avoiding blaster fire from a guild ship that had found you.

“Hand over the kids, Mando. I might let you live.” The bounty hunter says over the comlink as Mando dodges another bullet the ship spinning around making you dizzy. A blast hits the ship shaking it and loud alarms sound in the cockpit. “I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold.” The hunter says as Mando flies dangerously in your eyes to avoid more attacks and when they try ramming into you Mando drops the ship making the starship get into his view with a single shot and the ship explodes.

He huffs looking at the damage that he received, “That’s my line. Losing fuel…” The left engine was damaged and the right wouldn’t be enough to get them out of the system in case more bounty hunters arrived. He flips a switch the power shutting off the entire ship going dark your only light being the galaxy surrounding. Flipping the emergency power and looking over the holomap you see him punch in coordinates manually flying the ship until you appear to arrive at a desert planet.

“Where are we?” You ask Mando as you begin to enter the atmosphere the large plains of sands familiar to you, he doesn’t answer as a voice from the comlink cut through.

“This is Mos Eisley Tower. We are tracking you. Head for bay three-five, over.” You feel your blood chill but your heart soars at the same time. Mos Eisley…that was a name you were familiar with, looking out of the window and seeing familiar structures of the planet you were born on. The dual suns shine through the windows…you must have been dreaming. You were home..you were on Tatooine. The ship lands and you’re already down the ladder ignoring Mando’s calls out for you. Your fist slams on the button on the ramp not even waiting for it to come all the way down jumping off your skin instantly warm from the dual sun something you were used to.

You walk out of the starport the loudness of the crowd fills you with nostalgia. Memories of walking through the streets looking for your next meal or a place to stay at to avoid the cold and any creature stalking at night. It was almost instinct to see a Rodian distracted at a stand selling goods, you flick your wrist and a basket holding items hit the ground spilling everyone. The owner begins to shout at the Rodian assuming he knocked it over who tries to explain distracted as you slip by your hands slick grabbing the pouch full of credits and disappear into the crowd. You smile holding the hefty bag of credits and attaching it to your belt, this felt normal..you were home. You see the cantina ahead entering the doors the place is pretty filled with aliens and some droids. Coming up to the bar sitting towards the side a droid who appears to be the bartender comes over.

“Um…some spotchka,” You say pulling out a credit from the bag you stole and sliding it across the table. Maker were you going to get kicked out cause you were underage that would be embarrassing. The droid just nods takes the money and produces a glass holding an arm out as spotchka pours from a nozzle, filling the glass nicely, and pulls away to tend to another customer. Nodding you hold the glass between your hands taking a small sip wincing slightly from the burn. You were never going to get used to that.

“Hey, droid, I'm a hunter. I'm lookin' for some work.” A familiar voice says and you freeze instantly putting your arm up so it blocks most of your face glancing over and seeing Mando standing on the other end of the bar speaking to the droid. You had to be kriffing kidding me.

“Unfortunately, the Bounty Guild no longer operates from Tatooine.” The droid responds and you can hear Mando sigh his dislike of droids clear.

“I'm not looking for Guild work.” He says and the droid shakes its head,

“I am afraid that does not improve your situation, at least by my calculation.”

“Think again, tin can,” A voice behind you at the booths calls out and you see Mando look over as you busy yourself taking a sip of the drink. Your nerves make you take too big of a sip and you force yourself to swallow, the burn fills your throat not settling well with your stomach. Don’t you dare puke it up. “If you're looking for work, have a seat, my friend.” The man says and you hold a fist to your mouth trying to keep your face calm and hidden as you feel the Mandalorian you were quite familiar with walks past you.

“Name's Toro, Toro Calican. Come on, relax,” He introduces himself and you hear Mando sit down, “Picked up this Bounty Puck before I left the Mid Rim. Fennec Shand, an Assassin. Heard she's been on the run ever since the New Republic put all her employers in lockdown.”

“I know the name,” Mando says as you listen in on the conversation your drink long forgotten as you were able to settle the churning in your gut.

“I followed this tracking fob here. Now the positional data suggests she's headed out beyond the Dune Sea. Should be an easy job.” Toro says and you hear Mando stand going to leave.

“Well, good luck with that.” “Wait, wait, wait, hey. I thought you needed work?” Toro tries getting Mando to stay.

“How long you been with the Guild?” Mando asks and Toro responds long enough, “Clearly not. Fennec Shand is an elite mercenary. She made her name killing for all the top crime syndicates, including the Hutts. If you go after her, you won't make it past sunrise.” He warns him before you hear him turn to leave again.

“This is my first job. You can keep the money, all of it. I just need this job to get into the Guild,” He begs Mando, “I can't do it alone.” Silence comes from the two men.

“Meet me at Hangar three-five in half an hour. Bring two speeder bikes and give me the tracking fob.” Mando agrees and you hear something hit the wall fizzing.

“Don't worry, got it all memorized,” Toro nods and Mando keeps walking to the door and you glance at him before looking away. “Half an hour.” He says before leaving.

“Looks like you're stuck with me now, partner.” Toro cockily replies as the door to the cantina shuts behind Mando. You sigh wiping the sweat that was on your face from your nerves. You wait a few minutes sure he had already left before standing up. You have no idea how he didn’t notice it was you but you weren’t going to push further. Just head out of the cantina and figure out what you were going to do next, you went out the second door that was there. The sound of people on the streets is loud as you slip out now on a side street leading to the main one. Walking out right about to reach the main road when a hand grabs you by the collar pulling you into a small dead end. You reach for the knife in your belt swiping your arm out to strike your assailant in the chest when it comes in contact with a loud clang of metal. As one hand grabs your wrist twisting the knife out of your hand the other slams against your shoulder pushing you against the wall pining both of your arms as you get ready to scream and fight freezing seeing Mando glaring down at you.

“Get off me.” You struggle in his grip but his hands are heavy, not budging.

“You think it was smart running off? What if that Rodian noticed you stealing from him, or the man looking for a way into the guild finding out you are a highly valued bounty?” He says scolding you as you glare at him still trying to get him off you.

“That’s none of your concern…I’m home you don’t have to worry about me.” You spit back kicking him in the knee making him back off as you move to grab the knife that he gave you lying in the sand.

“Home? You were fighting to survive here to see the next day. What about your parents…do you have anyone you have here to call home?!” He says blocking your path from leaving the small dead end.

“This planet is all I have! I did it before and I can do it again!” You yell pointing your hand down to the ground beneath you…you had nothing…parents dead..the one man who actually looked after you somewhere on this planet that you had no idea how to get there. “Just leave. Take the child back to its home but this is mine…you’ve done your job Mando.” You say pulling the bag of credits from your belt and tossing it at him but he doesn’t catch it letting it hit his chest and falling to the ground, “Your payment for your service.”

“I don’t want your money.” He says and you scoff stepping towards him grabbing the bag, 

“Not my money remember.” You try walking past him when his hand latches to your arm. “Let go of me Mando.” You say not looking at him as his hand tightens on your arm.

“Kid… let's just go back to the Crest.” He says and you try pulling your arm free but he holds strong.

“Mando let me go…” You could feel a fire bubbling in your stomach beginning to rise, “I don’t need you to look after me like some child. I don’t need you or anyone.” You spat pulling your arm again but it won’t break free.

“You deserve a better life than this,” He says trying to reason with you, “You and the kid are special something I’ve never seen bef-” “Get the hell off me Mando I swear to the maker!” Your voice is cold and he can feel the anger reaching its peak.

“Kid just listen-” “I said let go!” You shout ripping your arm free of his grasp with a strength he hadn’t expected you push your hand out and he’s sent flying back slamming into the wall a crack forming pinned there. He’s lucky he wasn’t badly hurt, the beskar protecting him. He looks at you shock hidden by his helmet but you could sense in, the feeling that covered you lightly like a gentle touch was weighing down on you. You drop your hand and he slumps free from the weight holding him down. He didn’t know what to say, it was the same thing he saw in the child with the mudhorn…and you during the escape of Nevarro and the battle on Sargon. He thought he had hit his head or the adrenaline of the fight had gotten to him but nothing was clouding his mind now. You slammed him into the wall without even touching him.

You step back feeling the weight on your chest making your breathing labored this feeling covered you almost painfully. You’re gone having darted out of the alley disappearing into the crowd of Mos Eisley before the Mandalorian could even get up. The day quickly passed as you traveled through Mos Eisley the familiar routes you used to take as a child before you found yourself outside an old building, the sunset of the dual suns a usually beautiful sight made your heartache. Boarded doors a building long out of use as your hand brushes away the dirt and grime covering the small plaque highlighting the door. Pulling the blade from your belt tracing the metal that was given to you. The pride you felt receiving it the trust you grew with him, how quickly it crumbled in days.

Slicing through the wood easily you move the boards aside using two hands to pry the door open squeezing in. Entering the dark home you spot a small lantern grabbing it seeing a bit more fuel as it turns on the light filling the home, a place you haven’t seen in years an empty home of memories. It was a small home, the living area and kitchen combined so most dinners were on the seats surrounding the small table in the living room. Entering further in the sounds of a child’s laughter and that of a mother and father’s rings clear in your head.

“Mama come on, Papa will be here soon!” A small child’s voice calls out rushing past you waiting by the door excitement in her eyes as a woman with similar features walks over.

“Patience Y/n…remember don’t jump him when he gets here..work was lon-” Your mother’s words fall on deaf ears the second the door opens revealing a man tired from a lengthy day of work is jumped by a small child.

“Papa!” You giggle wrapping your arms around his neck as he catches you pulling you up into the air your laughter growing louder as he spins you around.

“My daughter oh I missed you.” He grins hugging you back as your mother watches on lovingly before he walks over hugging her pressing a sweet kiss on her lips, “And I have missed you.” Your mother pulls you out of his arms putting you on the ground as you run off as he wraps his arms around her.

“A long day?” She asks and he sighs sagging slightly the smile he put on his face fading, “Not many ships came by…this blockade on the Outer Rim, it's stopping anyone coming in or out. People are getting desperate here.” He says. The empire’s blockade affected Tatooine deeply, with no open water and places to grow, most items like food came from trade. With this shortage, it was only time until grew rowdy and with a place filled with Tuskan raiders, bounty hunters, and anyone desperate for food. It was dangerous.

“Maybe you should ask to leave work early tomorrow, I grow worried each day when you come home late.” Your mother says stroking your father’s face as he nods silently. It was hard enough for two people to have enough food on the table but with a growing child, it was stretched thin. Your parents had sometime gone days without eating just to make sure you had food in your belly.

“Papa! Mama! Look at this trick I learned.” Your voice comes rushing out of the shared bedroom the three of you had holding a doll your mother made for you. The two watched you place the doll down in front of all of them stepping back. You hold your hand out your face scrunching up in concentration. They watch as the doll twitches before standing up on its legs, you move your hand slightly and the doll’s hand raises waving at them. You drop your hand and the doll falls back to being inanimate. You look at them with a wide smile ready for their response. Both of them look at each other silently communicating their fear...not of you but for you. They had found out you were force sensitive when you caused a ball to come towards you when you were only four. They had never seen anything like it but when they heard around in Tatooine rumors of a Jedi and learned of who they were and how similar it was describing the things you could do they quickly became fearful.

Your father kneels down in front of you a small smile on his face, “That’s very interesting Y/n but remember what we said,”

“Don’t use my powers I know, but I thought you would like it?” You say a sad tone in your voice that broke your parent’s hearts.

“Of course we do sweetie, your power is beautiful. We just need to be careful…people can’t know about this alright.” Your mother says coming towards you wiping the stray tears that weld up in your eyes. You nod sniffling to stop the tears, reaching down and grabbing your doll.

“Now let’s eat and you can tell me everything about your day my little womp rat!” Your father scoops you up in his arms tickling your sides as your squeals fill the room your father’s own bellowing laugh filling it.

A large bolt cuts through the air pausing what was meant to be a touching moment. Your father holds you in his arms as silence fills your home. Another loud pop fills the air again until it grows louder and multiple ones until a shout rips through the air outside that has you all freezing.

“Darling?” Your mother calls out stepping closer to you two as the loud pops in the air grow louder and louder until screams are filling the air.

“Mama…Papa? What’s happening?” You ask,

“Take Y/n into the room now lock the door behind you,” Your father passes you off to your mother’s arm and you see your father move to a drawer and he pulls out something cocking the item back.

“What about you-” “Just do it!” Your father yells back making you jump slightly in her arms. The shouting outside as loud booms filled the air only make you clutch your mother tighter.

“Papa?!” You cry out reaching your hand out as your mother turns rushing toward your room the door closing behind it, she puts you down as you look around in confusion. You see outside the window bright flashes of light. But it was night what was doing this?

“Quickly under the bed, and do not make a sound no matter what you hear.” She says holding your arms as you look around in fear tears filling your eyes, “No tears you must be strong and brave you understand.” She wipes the tears from your eyes as you nod clutching the doll between your hands. Your mother gives a smile trying to hide her sadness and fear. You crawl under the bed the gap small enough for you to fit that you didn’t even know to exist. You clutch your doll between your hands when you hear a loud noise coming from outside the room. You hear your father shouting before another large bang fills the air and it’s quiet. The sound of multiple footsteps grows close before the door is burst open and you hear your mother screaming out as other voices are yelling out hear. The sound of a fight makes you cover your ears before a loud bang makes you jump squeezing your eyes shut. It was a dream you were going to wake up and this would be over. Whoever was in your home tore apart the room and outside.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed under that bed your small hands clutching the doll until the night was surely over and the fighting that raged through the night had ended. An odd silence filled your home as you slowly shuffle under the bed when your witness your life crumble in front of you. You should have just stayed under that bed.

Your footsteps are slow, both your father's and your mother’s bodies were long removed only leaving the damaged home and a frightened child behind. The stains of their blood couldn’t seem to get out of the hardened sandstone. The home you had many happy memories had been stripped away from you in one night, entering your old room everything was the same nothing moved. It was as if the room…this whole house was frozen in memory, your foot makes contact with something, and looking down you see the small doll. Time and the weather had gotten to it practically a ball of rags. Bringing it up to your face it was withering away in your hand the smell stale but the only lasting memory of your childhood. When you were happy and what were you now?

A child alone once again.

Mando’s mind hadn’t been as focused as he would like working on this mission. He could’ve tracked you down easily but with his needing to leave for Fennec and what you said to him. He would give you space but what if space isn’t what you need? Did you really think you were happy here? He and Toro had captured the high-ranking assassin but since one of the speeder bikes had been damaged he was sent out to retrieve the ride Fennec used to travel. He returned to the spot to find Toro gone with a dead bounty hunter, her blood staining the sands. He had no choice but to return to Mos Eisley, he may have lost the credits but his mind was more focused on trying to get you back. 

You were haunted by memories as you stayed in that abandoned home. The night had fallen long now hidden in your childhood home, the small lantern running on its last fuel. Seated at the small table in the space you would occupy as your seat with stolen food from your run-in at the cantina. A lonely dinner with empty chairs a home without love and laughter. The cold whispers of ghosts and lost memories drown you. What this meant to be your life, fighting to stay alive from bounty hunters and the empire that won’t stop coming after you. This was your decision you left them…you wanted to be alone.

A crackle fills the room and your hand instinctively reaches for your knife looking around for where the noise had come from when it came through again and you heard a voice.

“Took you long enough, Mando,” Toro’s voice rings out static and broken up, you look down hearing the voice coming from you. Your eyes widen seeing the comlink attached to the back of your belt. Grabbing it you listen in, “Looks like I'm calling the shots now. Huh, partner? Drop your blaster and raise 'em.” His voice sounds further away from Mando and you hear Mando sigh the sound of his blaster dropping on the ground.

“Cuff him. You’re a guild traitor, Mando. And I'm willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape.” You hear a noise coming from the child making you freeze. This wasn’t your problem Mando was going to win as he always does. “Where’s the other one huh Mando, got her hiding somewhere,” Toro says.

“Just leave the kids alone you’re already going to get enough to bring me in,” Mando says, you hear Toro laugh and you hear another cry come from the child chilling your blood.

“Bringing you it won't just make me a member of the Guild, it'll make me legendary. Besides the bounty on those kids never said they had to be brought in alive.” The click of a blaster has you shouting out instantly unaware they could hear you on the other end.

“No!” Silence fills the air before you hear footsteps and something being grabbed,

“Now it’s not nice to listen in. Wherever you’re hiding give yourself up…or they all die starting with the kid.” His voice is rough before you hear the commlink fall to the ground and a loud crush and it’s silent. Your hand clutches the commlink…this wasn’t your business. You were alone now. Just walk away…do it.

“You must be strong and brave you understand.” Your mother’s voice rings clear in your head and you attach the link to your belt heading toward the door. You turn to look back at what you had called your home. Flashes of memories before fading away as you turn and leave.

You blend into the crowd a ghost passing by strangers. A brush of the wind as your feet carry you to the starport, the same port your father worked at. You slow down seeing a speeder bike outside recognizing the rifle of Mando’s attached to the back. Your hands move to the bike slowing down seeing a single blaster resting on the seat. Your hands grab the rifle pulling it over your back your hands tucking the blaster in your pants. There was only one way to come through the hangar and he would be waiting right there for you to arrive there. So you weren’t going to be coming through the front door. The wind blows through your hair, the hair on your skin raising as you stand multiple feet up in the air walking along the large roof of the port. Holding your hand out you close your eyes reaching out, the weight returns painful at first before becoming light to the touch gracing your skin. It stretches across everything around you before you sense the connection you gain so many weeks ago.

The child.

Footsteps light on the wind that no one, not even your Mandalorian notice your arrival from the roof, peering over you can see the Crest there, and in front of it is Toro holding the child as he looks around his gun trained to Mando and another woman. Sliding the rifle off your back aiming Toro, hit his hand or leg anything on the side not holding the child. Your finger presses on the trigger the bolt ringing through the air, the kickback sending you back and you fall through one of the holes in the roof. The bolt strikes right beside his foot and he whips around firing at the roof where you were as you are hidden behind a large crate. Your back pressed against the wall of the crate you trying to catch your breath, from the fall and the recoil of the strong weapon knocking the air from you. The rifle is still up on the roof your hands grab the blaster holding it between two hands.

“I know you’re here! Just come out and I won’t kill the kid or Mando.” Toro calls out and you peek from the crate seeing him facing away from you and looking around. Where you were at didn’t give you a good shot that didn’t hit that child. You turn back take a deep breath and look over at another crate you raise your hand flicking out and the other crate shifts slightly. Toro shoots at that as you rush but he had caught the glimpse of the blur of clothing in the darkness shooting at the ground in front of you making you stop in your place. Blasters pointed at each other and you see Mando with this other woman to the side.

“Drop the blaster.” He says and you keep your hands steady on the weapon.

“Let go of the child.” You say slowly taking a step forward when the gun pointed at you turns to press against the child making you freeze.

“I said drop it!” He yells and you nod holding a hand out while slowly kneeling to place the weapon on the sand.

“Your eyes kid!” Mando yells out and you instantly cover your eyes with an arm as a loud bang fills the port catching a bit of a flash of white light. Quickly adjust to the flash charger firing your gun as Toro’s arm makes him drop the child. He blindly shoots out and you dodge out of the way before firing another bolt striking him in the chest.

Standing up letting out the air held in your lungs as Mando freed from his binds and steps toward Toro.

“Where is it?” The woman asks and looks around before finding the child hidden behind a basket, picking him up, “There you are. Are you hiding from us? Huh? Look at you. That's all right. I know. That was really loud for your big old ears, wasn't it?” She coos over the child as Mando stands beside you. Your finger twitches and the rifle from the roof falls off it landing in your hands. Holding out the rifle and the blaster,

“I’m assuming you knew I was coming.” You say and he looks down at you the damn helmet hiding his emotions.

“No, not really, just a shot in the dark.” He says taking the rifle and slinging it across his back but not taking the blaster, “Keep it…it will keep you safe.” He says pushing the blaster back into your hands and you look down at the item gifted to you, just like the knife. The trust he had in you even though you rejected him. You left him.

Mando had accepted at that moment that you were going to leave. You proved to him you could protect yourself. He couldn’t ignore the small piece in his chest that primal urge to see a defenseless child wanting to protect. But he didn’t even know anything about you only that you’re a seventeen-year orphan from Tatooine who fought their entire life to only be chased by the empire and bounty hunters for things he wasn’t sure how to explain.

“So, I take it you didn't get paid?” Peli sighs him handing the child off to him, a hand holds out two bags of credits. Mando looks over seeing you holding Toro’s pouch and the one you had stolen earlier is still full of credits.

“Does that cover it?” You ask and Peli quickly takes the bags feeling the weight and nodding.

“Yeah. Yes, this is gonna cover you. All right, Pit Droids! Let's drag this outta here!” Peli shouts out clapping her hands and the small droids scurry out grabbing the body being to drag it away. Mando is still frozen why had you given away your credits if you were?

“Mando!” You call out to him and he turns seeing you standing on the ramp of the Crest holding onto the side looking at him, “What are you waiting for?” You give him a look and that springs the bounty hunter into motion as he follows after you closing the ramp of the Crest behind him. Entering the cockpit placing the child in his cradle seeing you strapped in your seat looking like you belong here and not staying on the planet. He settles in as well turning on the fixed ship the engines roaring as he begins to leave the spaceport of Mos Eisley.

“Thought this was your home?” It felt like a sensitive subject to bring up but you didn’t seem affected by it as you look out the window the dual suns you grew up to seeing rise and fall in the sky entering right over the horizon.

“I lost my home long ago…” You say your past is buried behind you. The childhood you desired to have old memories now and unrealistic dreams, “It’s time to let memories die.” The ship exits the atmosphere and you said goodbye to that chapter of your life. The home you grew up in, the planet you learned to survive in, the life you lost. All those memories are buried deep in the sands where your parents rot.

The only sign that you existed there before would be the small memorial for graves that were to never be filled. Three, a father, a mother, and their daughter. A small doll left as a childhood dies.

Goodbye, mama…papa.

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

[renlyslittlerose]

Started on my alternate timeline obikin fic recently. It's basically where Palpatine triggers his takeover during TPM timeline. Here's a little bit I wrote the other day~

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"Qui-Gon barely recognized Obi-Wan’s presence, a subtle shift in his stance the only indication he even knew Obi-Wan had appeared. He was staring off into the distance, eyes trained on the horizon and the ridges of the dunes as they remained silent in the darkness. Obi-Wan followed his gaze but saw nothing.

“Is something the matter, Master?” he asked. His voice sounded unwelcome in the disquiet space.

Qui-Gon remained silent. His eyes were like sparks in the darkness, cheeks suddenly hollow, skin drawn tight against the bone. The joy of his presence was snuffed out like the suns above Tatooine, and for a moment Obi-Wan didn’t recognize him. And then he spoke.

“Something else is out there,” he said quietly.

Obi-Wan looked out into the darkness. Taking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried to grab hold of the strands of the Force that curled around them, but Qui-Gon’s hand on his shoulder stilled him.

“I was only—”

“We do not want to draw attention to ourselves,” Qui-Gon said, his voice sharp in the night.

Obi-Wan felt his cheeks burn. “I know how to mask my presence, Master.”

“Not from this, you don’t.”

Before Obi-Wan could counter Qui-Gon was moving, his cloak billowing as he bayed Obi-Wan follow him back into the ship. Obi-Wan stayed outside, his attention fixed on the horizon just as the light began to glimmer across the furthest shores of the dunes. For a moment he thought of sliding into the Force regardless of Qui-Gon’s cautions. He was almost a knight and had taken to the training and studied the teachings as instructed. He knew how to travel through the Force, touch the energies and feel their presence, all the while hiding his footsteps.

He took a deep breath and held.

“Obi-Wan.” Obi-Wan turned. Qui-Gon was framed by the light, his features hidden by the shadows of his hood. “Come,” he repeated.

Obi-Wan nodded and followed him back inside.

#lemon fanfic #kenobiiiiiiiiiii

[foomoosworld]

Stars Too Far

CHAPTER 6 - Cape Isn’t So Stupid Now, Is it?

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem Reader

Summary: You and Din need to take on a particularly dangerous Imperial Bounty. Din has to enlist the help of Mig Mayfeld, who has had a run in with you on your previous planet and you two hate each other. Mayfeld appears to know things about your past you are keeping from Din which complicates the situation.

MINORS DNI - Actually, this chapter probably only has some fluff and lead up to smut in the next chapter. I wanted to put it all into one chapter but it would have been way too long. Sometimes you gotta push that plot forward so you can write more smut that doesn't confuse the crap out of people.

Return to Masterlist

The sun was violently beating down that morning on Tatooine which didn’t help your nervous and slightly angry disposition about having to come face to face with Mayfeld again; the man who tried to burn your house down, stole your ship parts, tried to kill you then left you behind on your deadly home planet you had been trying to escape since birth.  Sweat was dripping down your temples and you would occasionally grunt and wipe it with your sleeve in frustration.

“This planet is so hot.”  You complain to Din as the two of you stroll the short distance to the Canteena where you are to meet Mayfeld and Karga Greef , “It’s like my skin won’t stop leaking.  How are you handling this so well?  It must be like an oven under that armor.”  Din simply shrugged.  He had become accustomed to the discomfort that his armor can create and has done battle in far worse environments than Tatooine.

“Try not to think about it.” His advice rings half-heartedly.

“When you tell someone to ‘try not to think about it,’ they just think about it more.” You snap at him with a glare.

“Don’t be a brat.”  Din warns.

As you approach the cantina you see a man with a shaved head, red stubble dressed all in black tactical gear.

“Huh.  He’s a ginger.  I forgot that.”  You grump as the two of you approach. “At least he hates the sun more than I do.”  You sneered.  Din turned his helmet and looked sternly down at you and reiterated, 

“Don’t. Be. A. Brat. I mean it.”

You roll your eyes and sigh.

Mayfeld is leaning against the wall of the cantina as if he didn’t have a care in the world.  He shades his eyes with his hands to get a better look at the two of you as you approach, each foot fall of yours kicking up small clouds of dusty beige sand.

“Mando!” He greets Din with a smile and offers a firm handshake and a pat on his back.  He then turns to you glare at you, “I see your still keeping sketchy company.  You still stripping ships, you swamp rat?” Mayfeld taunts as he sneers at you.

“You still burning down houses?”  You snark.

“Stop it.” Din says calmly but sternly to both of you.  “We need to work together if this is going to succeed.  So whatever rocky past you two have is put behind you as of right now.”

“No problem over here…” Mayfeld shakes his head and raises his hands defensively.

“Fine.”  You grumble, giving in to Din’s order.

The three of you enter the dark cantina and the cool air relieves your skin.

“Thank, maker…”  Mayfeld says wiping the sweat off his brow.  “Us gingers tend to burn up in the sun.”

You snort a muffled laugh and try to hide a vindictive smile and stare straight forward, happy at the misery you predicted Mayfeld was in.  Din looks at you and nudges you angrily in the ribs with an elbow.  “Don’t.”  He warns again quietly and you struggle to stifle your smile.

The band is playing music that is oddly frantic and lively for the morning that every patron is nonchalantly ignoring as they practice grimacing.  Din sees Karga sitting at a table across the room with a droid standing next to him.  He waves you over happily and the three of you slide into chairs at his table, Mayfeld spinning one of the chairs backwards and straddling it.

“Yeah. That makes you look edgier.” You sarcastically snap under your breath and roll your eyes at Mayfeld

“Mando! It’s been a long time!” Karga exclaimed excitedly, “And you bring….” Karga examines your and Mayfeld’s faces, senses the tension between the two of you and is unsure, “Friends?”

“I hear you have a bounty for me.  I thought you were out of the business since becoming High Magistrate.”  Din cuts to the chase.

“I do.”  Karga looks uncomfortably at you and asks, “Why are you dressed so fancy?” looking at your blue summer dress.  You look at him completely emotionless and respond,

“I’m not properly socialized to your standard culture.” You robotically dispel.

“Okay…” Karga nods uncomfortably and decides to keep his conversation to the Mandalorian, “You keep interesting company, Mando.”

“Have I ever not gotten the job done?” Din challenges Kargas questioning of his team member choice.

Karga flicks his eyes from you to him then slowly slides the puck across the table.

“Its a Spice Runner that has been captured by Imperial Guard and is being held in one of their facilities on Hoth.” Karga explains.

“Hoth?” Din questions in surprise, “Why would anyone put a facility on such a frigid, barren planet?  And since when are you interested in Spice Runners if you’re out of the business?”  The pieces weren’t falling together and before Din accepted the bounty puck he wanted to ensure this wasn’t some kind of Imperial trap.

“The Spice runner had set up a factory on Navarro partnering with local pirates for security.  We’ve been trying to get them off our planet for some time but have proven to be a much trickier pest to exterminate than originally calculated.  Without a military or help from the Alliance we had no other choice than to strike up a deal with them when their boss was captured by Imperial Guard.  He’s been selling information to the Alliance on the side; specifically Imperial Facilitiy blue prints, giving the Alliance an upper hand.”  Karga explains.

“Why wouldn’t the Imps just kill him?”  Din querries.

“Because he was also selling information about the Alliance to the Imps.  So they’re trying to get information out of him before they kill him.”

“Playing both sides.”  Din realizes and nods slowly.

“The Imperial facility is on Hoth to dissuade anyone from going there. They tend to keep only high profile prisionera there and is one of the last places anyone would expect them to set up camp.  The Spice Runner’s wife has taken over operations on Nevarro and has offered a large bounty and to move their operations off of Nevarro if you get her husband, Talak Rand, back to her alive.”  Karga concludes.  Din nods thoughtfully then turns to Mayfeld and you to see what your reaction to the job is.  You shift your eyes back and forth between Din and Mayfeld.  You aren’t versed well enough in the politics of the universe as of yet to have a fully formed opinion on how dangerous this could be, but also know you needed the credits.

“Well - “ Mayfeld shrugged, “At least if we go to Hoth we can get out of the sun for awhile.”  He reaches over and grabs the puck.  With that the three of you stand up.

“We’ll find your Spice Runner.”  Din confirms, turns and all three of you walk out of the cantina.

Karga looks up at the droid next to him, “Where does he find these people, G5?”

The droid shifts anxiously.

“It’s probably best not to question such things.” It responds. Karga nods in agreement with a shake of his head and an arch of his brow as he takes a long swig of his blue milk.

………..

The three of you return to The Razor Crest and settle into the cockpit.  Din takes his seat in the pilots chair and Mayfeld flops down in the Copilot seat.  You stand over him with your arms crossed and clear your throat in annoyance.

Mayfeld glares up at you, “Oh… you learned how to fly a ship in the last year I saw you?”  He quips.  “I believe this is a copilot’s chair.”  You snarl your discontent then angrily huff down in the jump seat behind the two of them.  Din begins setting coordinates, pushing buttons and navigates the Razor Crest into space without getting involved between the uncomfortable banter between you and Mayfeld.  The Razor Crest jumps to hyperspace and once it’s flying smoothly Din stands from his seat.

“Take the controls, Mayfeld.  I need to go below deck to run diagnostics on the ships heating and life support systems before we get to Hoth”  Din instructs.  Mayfeld slowly turns his head and glares at you while responding to Din,

“No problem.”

He switches to the Captians seat and you shift and settle into the copilots seat.

“Play nice.” Din leans to your ear and quietly growls at you before he disappears into the back of the ship.

You cross your arms and flick your eyes to Mayfeld.  He swivels his head around to make sure Din is out of ear-shot.

“No tricky stuff or I let Mando know your little secret.” he warns as he reads the navigation charts on a small screen to his left.

“You don’t know anything about me.” You challenge him with a snarl.

“Oh, I did some digging after I left your little hell planet.  I know why your family was exiled from Mandalor and I know exactly what you are.  I doubt Mando will be as forgiving of this situation than I am.  So, best behavior unless you want to find yourself stranded on some shit hole rock on the Outer Rim again.”  He threatens.  Your heart jumps into your chest, suddenly realizing that Mayfeld is currently holding all the cards.

You angrily jolt up from your seat and storm off to find Din.

A cool green glow is reflecting off of his helmet from the console text on the screen in front of him in the dark hallway of the Razor Crest as he checks the screen in the wall against a hand held infopad in his hand.  He appears to not notice you approach from behind him but also doesn’t flinch when you rope your arms around his waste from behind and lean your head against his back.  He continues to check his numbers but embraces your hands that are woven around his waist with one of his.

His helmet tilts slightly back towards you. “I know, Meshla.  It’s not easy.”  He soothes you.

“Is it too early to go to bed together?”  Your whines are muffled as you smush your face into his back in frustration.

“Not now, Charika. There’s too much I need to prepare before we get to Hoth.”

You whine again and angrily slump away from Din.  He sighs, turns around and leans back against the console he was just fixing.

“If you can behave, I’ll have a surprise for you once we catch this bounty.”  He says.

“And if I don’t?” You challenge mischievously stepping into him and angling a smile up at his visor.

“You don’t want to know what I will do to you if you misbehave.”

You let out a small squeal and shake your fists excitedly in front of you.  You turn to go back to your makeshift bed in the cargo hull but let out a yelp as Din gives your ass an unexpected slap as you scurry away.  You turn and giggle at him then disappear to your bed.

Din sighs, turns and goes back to his diagnostics, smiling to himself under his helmet and shaking his head.

A few hours pass and Din finishes his diagnostic review of the ships life support and heating system.  When he is satisfied with the numbers he returns to the cockpit and takes the Captians Chair from Mayfeld.

“So, you met her on Sypar…” Mayfeld breaks the silence.  Din hesitates, unsure if he wants to unfold this conversation with him, then opts for transparency.

“Yes.” He states simply.

“What do you really know about that girl?” Mayfeld baits Din.  Din slightly turns his helmet towards him as he busies himself pushing buttons on the console in front of him.

“All I need to know.”  He grumbles, trying to shut the conversation down.

“Ever asked yourself why she didn’t grow up on Mandalor with her parents?”  Mayfeld lures him.

“It’s not my business.”  Din shuts him down.

Mayfeld shrugs and tries to explain, “I’m just sayin’... a weird feral girl abandoned on a deadly, uninhabited planet seems like a strange bed partner to take without looking into her history.”

Din stays silent to try to avoid the conversation, however, Mayfeld has a point. “What is your point?” He questions, his patience running thin.  Mayfeld leans across the copilots chair towards him and cautiously looks back to make sure you aren’t close by to hear his words.

“Do you know if she’s actually human?”

Din growls under his helmet.

“I have extensive experience.  She’s human.”  He shoots back at him.

“But do you?”  Mayfeld lays his bread crumbs. “There’s creatures out there that can look human, but aren’t.”

Din turns his head, at first in annoyance, but when he glimpses Mayfelds concerned expression he questions his stance.  He tries to push the thought to the back of his mind and looks back out the windscreen at the stars.

“You grow up on Mandalore?”  Mayfeld nods at him, questioningly.

“No. I grew up on Concordia.  A moon of Mandalore.  By the Children Of The Watch.”

“Ah,” Mayfeld leans back, “That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Why you don’t know all the history of Mandalore.  I mean, you didn’t even know there were Mandalorians that could remove their helmets until recently.  Ever think there may be something else that was a blind spot in your up-bringing?”

“Say what you mean or be quiet.”  Din roughly orders.

“Maybe take your new arm candy to Bo Katan and ask what she thinks of her.”

Din turns his helmet to Mayfeld.  He knows the expressionless mask will look like a threat of violence if Mayfeld doesn’t shut up, but underneath, his eyes were wide and face was worried.  Why did Mayfeld appear to know more about you than he did?   It took Din everything he could muster to not physically shake off Mayfeld’s words and give his emotional manipulation the upper hand.  Luckily, he was saved by the bell as a beeping commenced signaling they were approaching Hoth.

The cockpit door slides open and you step in, fully clad in leather armor and winter clothes.  Your short waist high cape flowed behind you as you stared at Hoth getting larger by the second as The Razor Crest approached.

“Here we go.”  You nervously exhaled.

“Nice cape.” Mayfeld quipped sarcastically.

“Fuck you, Mayfeld.” you said without tearing your eyes off of the approaching planet.

……………

The Razor Crest swooped down to the glacial ground of Hoth and planted its landing gear with a thud that stirred up clouds of dry snow that spread like mist. Din was the first to exit the hull ramp and survey the frozen tundra.  Mayfeld followed shortly behind him.  Lastly, you stepped out into the frozen winter air and said,

“NOPE.” and immediately turned around to go back into the ship.  However, Din caught the crook of your elbow without even looking and pulled you next to him.  Din pushed some buttons on his helmet and scanned the horizon until he found the small Imperial building.

“It’s smaller than I thought it would be.”  He said.

“Yeah,” Mayfield said, “Don’t let that fool you.  The building is small but I can guarantee you there are numerous troopers stationed.  If anything, be scared that they feel they only had to build a small structure to have their prisoners secured. It means they’re ready for us.”

“We can’t use speeder bikes.”  You state, “They’ll hear them and see them against the snow immediately.  That means we’re walking.”

“Oh… good….’ Mayfield starts with his words already dripping with sarcasm, “More time to spend with you.”  He glares at you then  starts to walk down the ramp.  You and Din share a knowing look and take Mayfeld’s lead and follow behind him into the wild frozen wasteland.

The three of you lower your heads and force your way through the open glacial land.  The wind lashes your bodies like a burning whip with every icy blow.  Even Din was shivering in his armor when you traversed the last giant snow drift and looked down across an open glacier field that  was spotted with only the imperial building.

“This has got to be a trap.”  Din states, noting how quiet it is.

“Only one way to find out.”  Mayfeld says climbing over the snow dune and clumsily sliding his way down to the glacier.  The three of you walk without incident to the middle of the glacier field, heads on a swivel, awaiting blaster fire.

Then it happened.  A storm trooper on a Taun Taun crested one of the snow drifts, took aim and shot at you.

Din immediately pulled his blaster, shot back and sent him flailing off the Taun Taun that scurried off.  With that action, suddenly hundreds of Storm Troopers appeared on the horizon in every direction.  You had been boxed in.

Blasters fired from every angle.  Mayfeld dove behind a glacial crevasse that had upheaved itself from the ground but you and Din were left vulnerable with no where to hide.  Din took numerous blaster hits to his Beskar, grunting and shouting as he was inundated from taking fire.  He fell back to the ground.  You crouched down then leapt into an animalistic sprint towards the line of Storm Troopers.  Fire seared immediately into your body and flung you back, skidding next to Din in the snow.  You trembled as you heaved your wounded body up.  Din grasped you around your waist and dragged you back behind the upheaved glacial crevasse that Mayfeld had taken shelter behind.  The Storm Troopers were closing in, blaster fire becoming every molecule of the air.

You weakly reached up and flung Din’s cape over his head then grabbed Mayfeld in a headlock and flung him face down into the snow, your cape over his head while crouching with him in the fetal position in the ground.

A deafening pause ensued, A white light flashed throughout the field, emerging from your body, shaking the atmosphere and sending a ripple through the snow that flung the line of Storm Troopers off their feet.

There was complete silence among the glacial field.  Din slowly raised to his knees, emerging from under his cape.  Mayfeld also slowly rose up.  They both look around, confused to see the few concious Storm Troopers that are now regaining their footing appear to be blindly grasping at nothing.

“What was that?”  Din questioned, astonished.  He looks at Mayfeld who is crouched over you, unconscious in the snow.

Mayfeld looks up at Din with a terrified expression,

“She blinded them.”

Mayfeld reaches down gently and raises your face to look at him.  You weakly say,

“Cape isn’t so stupid now, is it?”

Return to Masterlist

#din djarin smutt #din djarin smut #star wars #mandalorian smut #mandalorian fluff #mando #mandalorian x reader #razor crest #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #mando x reader #mandalorian #migs mayfeld #mandalor

[acatalystrising]

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to everyone who celebrates! I couldn’t get through the day without thinking about my favorite green tin can man, so I wrote a special little life day scene in case anyone needed some softttt cheer! 💚🖤

Life Day with Boba Fett

“What are you doing, Mesh’la?”

You flinched at that gruff, teasing voice - turning from your precariously perched spot on the ladder, a strand of lights gripped in your hands.

Boba Fett stood at the throne room’s entrance, fully armored, arms crossed - dark, expressionless visor trained on you.

“I wanted to put up a couple more lights before everyone shows up,” you gestured at your work, almost complete, with a smirk. “It’s still too drab in here.”

Boba slowly paced into the room, the clinking of his spurs bouncing off the walls. He stopped right below your ladder, helmet tilted up, and you tried so, so hard to keep your thoughts to yourself. Because from this height, you discovered, the most terrifying bounty hunter in the galaxy looked positively adorable.

“Hook those lights,” he gestured at you with a slow curl of his index finger, “come down.”

You didn’t miss the command in his tone, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d actually done something wrong. So you made a short work of hanging the rest of the lights, all too aware of his eyes trained on your back. And when they were finally done, you climbed down the ladder, heart pounding, and stood before him.

“What,” he lifted a hand and pinched the collar of your sweater. His leather gloves brushed against your skin, sending chills spiraling down your spine. “Is this?”

You frowned, lips parting to answer his question with one of your own, when it dawned on you. You glanced down at your chosen attire and felt a blush creep onto your cheeks with the speed of a forest fire.

Oh…OH.

“Oh, I can explain,” you gestured at your sweater with a sheepish grin - a custom sweater carefully dyed to resemble and match the colors of his armor. “I wanted…you know…”

“Wanted what, little one?” He tilted his helmet to the side, hand brushing against your cheek and cupping your chin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d wager you were trying to copy me.”

He advanced, slowly backing you toward the throne until the backs of your calves bumped into the first stone step. You looked up at him, heart pounding, his every movement calculated and intentional.

“I…thought it’d be cute if we matched,” you felt the blush completely overtake your face, making your ears burn. You bravely kept your gaze trained on his T-visor. “Since it’s…our first Life Day together? As a couple? I wanted it to be special.”

Boba fell silent, entirely unreadable behind that impenetrable beskar. Was he upset? Angry? Did he find your sweater offensive? You blinked when his thumb stroked your cheek, the gesture so soft you nearly melted where you stood, washing away every shred of doubt.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he moved his free hand to lift the helmet from his face, revealing a nearly shocked smile that extended to those beautiful brown eyes. “How’d you manage that?”

One of the facts you’d discovered ever since you’d met Boba was that the bounty hunter turned Daimyo did in fact, have the warmest smile.

“I went to the market, had a friend dye the pieces. I even tried to draw your armor so I had a reference,” you tried to duck your head but his hand remained firm, holding your chin in place. “Your beskar has protected you - saved you. And I thought…if I wore something similar, it would…let everyone know I’m yours.”

He chuckled lowly, the sound reverberating through your chest and leaving you breathless. He took another step, guiding you onto to the first cool stair, making you nearly level with him.

“Do you know?” He leaned closer, lips inches away, eyes burning. “Whose girl you are?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, blush hotter than Tatooine’s twin suns. “I do.”

“Good,” his eyes flicked from yours to your lips, an unspoken question. “It’s sweet. Never thought anyone would do something like this. Not for me.”

“I love you, Boba Fett,” you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “That’ll never change. This is only the first life day together, we have the rest of our lives to look forward to the rest.”

“Oh mesh’la,” he hummed, capturing your lips in his, holding you so, so close as he deepened the kiss - arms wrapping around you.

Head spinning, you clung to him, hands gripping his chestplate, kissing him harder. Gods, you wanted him to know how much you loved him. How much he meant to you. And you knew he felt the same. He nipped at your bottom lip and you smirked against him, tracing the scars on the back of his head as he claimed you, pressing achingly sweet kisses along your jawline.

“Hey, lovebirds, Din’s here with the kid,” Fennec’s teasing voice from the doorway brought you back to reality, and you pressed your forehead against Boba’s with a smirk, breaths mingling. “I could use some help, you know.”

“We’re being summoned,” Boba’s voice was nearly a low growl. “Shame.”

You gave his pauldron a playful shove.

“Coming!” You went to pull away, but Boba chuckled dark as sin, pulling you flush with his chest, hand pressed against your lower back.

“You aren’t yet,” he met your gaze, beautiful lips curving into a sly grin. “But later, when they’ve all gone to bed, you will until you can’t remember your name, and can only scream mine.”

Oh gods. You nearly collapsed against him, breath caught in your throat, heat trickling down your spine and coiling between your legs.

“Fine,” you pressed a kiss to the top of his nose. “But after the party. You’re going to have to wait, you know…because I’m going to return the favor.”

“Guys!” Fennec’s tone was sharp, but you heard the laugher bubbling from the back of her throat. “Seriously…”

You finally broke apart, reaching for his hand and twining his fingers with yours. You both walked toward the door to join Fennec, who was leaned against the doorframe wearing a smug grin.

“For the record,” Boba’s voice was low, teasing. “Love the sweater. We’ll make a mandalorian out of you, yet.”

“Happy Life Day, love,” you tightened your grip on his fingers, hoping he knew just how grateful you were for him.

You hoped he knew he’d never be alone again.

“Happy life day, princess,” his tone was low, gravelly, overcome with emotion. “You’re the best gift I’ve ever had.”

-

The palace had many rooms that had housed many terrors and abuse over the years. But now…one of them held a tree, all decorated and glimmering. And within the room sat one of the strangest families the Galaxy would ever see.

“This…is so much.” Din’s shiny helmet shifted to meet you and Boba’s watching gazes, his voice softening despite the modulator. “Thank you.”

The mandalorian held a new pulse rifle, shining in the firelight, slowly examining his new weapon with awe. Grogu, his little green child, sat surrounded by gifts, a decent amount of food, and even a pair of tiny socks.

“Certainly,” Boba leaned froward from his seat beside you, earnestly meeting the man’s gaze with a nod. “I hope it serves you well.”

“Wouldn’t want any new weapons mishaps, huh Mando?” Fennec smirked at him from her chair in the corner as she examined her new knives, leg crossed over her knee with a small smirk.

“No,” he set the rifle down with a subtle shake of his head. “You didn’t have to do this.”

You chuckled, gripping Boba’s hand in yours, and he squeezed back, shifting so you were leaning against his shoulder.

“You’re family, Din. Of course we did,” you smiled at him, holding Boba close. “I’m just glad you wanted to be a part.”

He nodded, and you nearly flinched when you felt something touch your leg. You looked down to find Grogu staring up at you, little arms held high. You smirked, glancing at Din for confirmation before lifting the little guy into your lap.

He cooed, leaning into you, smiling as wide as he could. Boba observed you both with a small smirk, expression softening ever so slightly when Grogu shifted to face him, once again lifting his arms.

“Love…he wants you,” you couldn’t stop a small chuckle from slipping through your lips, even as Boba lifted a skeptical brow. “C’mon…he won’t bite.”

Boba hesitated. You saw a shadow briefly pass through his eyes, but it diminished when he met yours.

“All right mesh’la,” he extended his gloved hands and lifted Grogu, holding him against his chest with a lowered brow. “You’re…sweet, ad’ika. Make your father proud.”

Grogu cooed again, and you saw the moment Boba Fett softened. The subtle cave of his shoulders, the tilt of his head. He leaned forward, and everyone observed the moment in silence…

And then Grogu sneezed in his face.

Fennec was the first to laugh. It was more of a snicker, but you couldn’t help but laugh too. You glanced at Boba, hoping he wasn’t upset, but you found he was actually smiling.

Boba Fett was smiling.

“Little terror,” he set Grogu back down on the floor, and he shuffled toward Din with a squeal. “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

“That’s a lot, coming from you,” you smirked, and he grinned, leaning in to kiss you.

“Time for your present, little one,” he pulled something out of his pocket, a small box.

You took it, opening it with bated breath, and found a small, intricate necklace. It bore his sigil, carefully carved, and tears welled into your eyes.

“Oh, Boba…” you swallowed hard, blinking back tears, as he took it from you and carefully removed the necklace from its box.

“I’m with you whenever you go,” his voice was low, for you alone, as he placed it around your neck. “You’re…my family. I hope this will always remind you of that.”

You smiled, kissing him again. Fennec chuckled and Din shook his helmet in mock disgust. Grogu squealed and tossed one of his toys into the air, nearly hitting Din’s helmet.

“Didn’t think you’d ever have this, huh?” You snuggled against Boba, holding him close.

“No.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, voice softer than you think you’d ever heard before. “But I’m glad it did, mesh’la. Glad it did.”

#boba fett x female reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett fluff #boba fett #boba fett x you #boba fett fic #life day #boba fett fanfiction #soft boba fett #daimyo boba fett #daddy boba fett #book of boba fett #the book of boba fett #tbobf #oneshot prompts #holidays with boba fett #my writing #acatalystrising writes #din djarin #fennec shand #grogu #found family #found family of mos espa

[sanerontheinside]

QuiObi + #45 😇

45, a kiss out of anger, because we like to suffer 🤭

[prompts || send another!]

sooooo after watching the Kenobi show I spawned like. 2-3 ideas. this prompt belongs to one of them! background: Qui-Gon leaves the Order after Obi-Wan returns from Rattatak (we do lightly touch on the why of it)

This prompt either falls in the middle of that story, or my brain will decide that it's already checked this idea off the list (tho i kinda hope not, there's more that can be done here, and I think this scene could also be fleshed out—) anyway here we goooo

He floated. 

The pain had been indescribable. Heat that refused to dissipate, seemed only to get worse, endless, endless. He was still burning, even now when he’d been pulled out of the flames—had he been? He couldn’t say. He was still there, unable to breathe, choking on ash. 

Anakin had felt this. He’d been alive, abandoned on the hot Mustafar sand. Obi-Wan had turned his back on him. 

You should’ve killed me when you had the chance. 

Pain, old and dull and inescapable, streaked through him. For a moment it seemed to him that he’d burned on Mustafar, been left charred and empty; that he’d suffered those injuries for a decade. 

But he hadn’t, had he? Hadn’t even known that Anakin still lived. He’d wandered beneath the scorching suns of Tatooine, and at best his burns had been superficial; he’d survived all of it, because he had a mission to complete. Something important, something to hold on to… 

Something was missing. 

Obi-Wan jerked, and found himself restrained, sluggish. 

He tried again. He was trapped, encased in some gelatinous substance. The smell of it was cloying—

Bacta. 

They were losing precious time. Obi-Wan struck out and kicked for the surface. 

“—need more time!” Tala was calling up to him insistently. “Ben, your injuries need time to heal.” 

He pulled off the rebreather, stubbornly ignoring the way the barely-healed skin pulled and ached. “Where’s Leia?”

Tala’s expression cracked. That told him all he needed to know. 

She sighed. “The medic will want a look at those burns.”

Obi-Wan bit back a protest. The bacta treatment, however brief, had at least dulled the pain. And though he tried not to think about it, the idea of sinking back into the tank filled him with dread. 

*

The base was set up smartly, by someone who knew what they were doing. They’d repurposed one of the old structures left abandoned after the campaign on Jabiim. Jabiim likely still hadn’t forgiven the greater galaxy for what had happened there: Empire, Confederacy, or Republic, it was all the same to them. It remained an unregarded, struggling world—perfect for an illegal base of operations. 

A couple turns away from the room where they kept the bacta tank (Obi-Wan doubted they could afford to keep more than one) there was a cramped little mediwing. Tala made sure Obi-Wan got as far as the exam table, then left him there. He could still hear her soft voice, barely, no doubt speaking to the medic just outside. Obi-Wan thought he could just about imagine how that conversation went. Medics liked things to be neat and clean; that a patient would fight bacta treatment was baffling to most. 

Obi-Wan sighed, and geared up for a minor fight. 

“Leaving us so soon?”

The sound of that voice slid down his spine like ice. 

“If we had a patient record, I’d have you signing a form indicating you refused treatment.”

Obi-Wan swallowed against the lump in his throat. It refused to budge. 

“Still, I’m sure you know how this works: bacta-packed compression bandages for the burns, a broad spectrum antibiotic, an analgesic for the pain you’re going to tell me you’re not in.” 

Obi-Wan watched the tall frame moving around the little ward out of the corner of his eye, rifling through the drawers. The bandages were tossed almost carelessly onto the exam table beside him, then the man returned with two hypos in hand. 

“Non-negotiable, I’m afraid,” the man said. 

Obi-Wan forced himself to look at him. 

Qui-Gon looked… different. Older, terribly worn. His eyes were bruised with sleepless nights, and his face was gaunt. He’d lost weight. His hair was silvered now, twisted back into a long braid. 

Obi-Wan licked dry lips and tried to think of anything to say. “A medic?” was the best he could do, apparently. 

The corner of Qui-Gon’s mouth twitched up in something that wasn’t quite a smile. He picked up one of the bandage packages and tore into it. “Amazing, what skills you’ll pick up on the run. Most people are too grateful to ask questions, even about unlikely recoveries.”

“Ah.” 

Obi-Wan tried not to jump when Qui-Gon started to wrap the bandages around his ribs. It had been such a long time since he’d been touched. He missed Qui-Gon’s hands… 

But Qui-Gon’s motions were brisk, perfunctory. Obi-Wan fought down a pang of grief. He didn’t deserve that comfort from him, anyway. Obi-Wan desperately cast about for another topic. 

“How long have you been working with the Path?” His voice sounded strained, even to him. 

“Separatists had been hunting Force Sensitives already.” Qui-Gon shrugged. “Mostly sentient trafficking, but some had likely suffered a more terrible fate. I still had my old contacts then. When the Republic fell… it was hard going, for a time. A few years later, I started crossing paths with Roken and the Path. Joined forces. It was better than getting in each other’s way.”

Obi-Wan nodded. Mostly, he found himself listening to the cadence of Qui-Gon’s voice, the long-missed timbre of it. There was a bit more brogue to his speech now than Obi-Wan remembered. Maybe that was telling of the years he’d lived more Rimward than Core. 

“I wondered if you would come look for me,” Qui-Gon said into the silence. “I suppose I shouldn’t be terribly surprised you didn’t.”

Obi-Wan stayed still and quiet. He tried to speak as neutrally as possible. “You left,” Obi-Wan said. 

“You didn’t need me,” Qui-Gon growled. 

Obi-Wan rocked back where he sat, feeling like he’d been slapped. Qui-Gon had been well-shielded, but this—the bitter pain in his voice, the anger and the grief—he could’ve been Force-blind and he would’ve still been able to taste it in the air. The feelings had spilled out in a brief, bright flash, like a meteorite catching fire. 

“I have always needed you,” he said. 

“After Rattatak,” Qui-Gon bit out, hurling the words at his feet like the accusation they were. “You shut me out, you—”

Qui-Gon’s eyes flashed with warning, but Obi-Wan had nothing to answer to that anyway, because Qui-Gon was right, of course. He’d shut everyone out. It wasn’t like he’d had much time to deal with the consequences of such a thing. And Qui-Gon had stayed close to him, hovering-but-not, edging around him on tip-toe—

Now he was angry. Like he’d been angry since he’d left the Temple, and carried that with him for the last twelve years. The sight of Qui-Gon Jinn angry was a rare thing. Obi-Wan himself barely had the reserves left for such a feeling. 

Amazing, Obi-Wan thought. After all these years, at least one thing remained consistent. He’d disappointed Qui-Gon after all. 

And yet, here he was; bandaging Obi-Wan’s arm and shoulder even as he ground his teeth. 

“I have always needed you,” Obi-Wan said more softly. “Even when I pushed you away. I’m sorry, for what little it’s worth.” 

Qui-Gon shut his eyes and leaned forward, surprising Obi-Wan when he rested his brow against Obi-Wan’s temple. 

“I thought you dead.”

The words were so quiet, barely a breath, that Obi-Wan felt more than heard them. He turned his head gently into the touch. “I prayed you weren’t.”

“You didn’t look,” Qui-Gon noted. 

There was that bitter edge again, though weakened this time. Obi-Wan smiled, and shook his head. “I had a job to do. I still do.”

A long, low breath spilled from Qui-Gon’s lips. “You awful, infuriating thing,” he whispered. 

Then a hand was on Obi-Wan’s chin, turning and angling his head, and dry lips pressed against his with a fierce desperation—angry and desperate and grieved. The kiss was like nothing he’d ever known—a greeting, a plea, or maybe a curse. One of them bled. 

It was over as quickly as it had begun, and Obi-Wan found himself panting, fingers curled into a well-worn, soft, blue tunic. 

“Qui,” he gasped, “what—”

“I lost you here, on this planet,” Qui-Gon rasped. 

Obi-Wan glanced up at him, found those blue eyes burning into his very soul. 

“I won’t lose you again,” Qui-Gon said, “certainly not here. Wherever you need to go, I’m going with you.” 

Obi-Wan opened his mouth automatically, though every line of Qui-Gon’s body was coiled fierce and ready for a fight. And Obi-Wan was tired of fighting. 

And he missed his bondmate. Twelve years ago, when he’d locked away the mess that was Rattatak, he’d locked away parts of himself with it. He’d done it again, in the middle of the desert, burying his past life with his Padawan’s. 

What a horrible thing to bury, he thought, eyes falling to his hand where it lay over Qui-Gon’s heart. Over the scar that had nearly taken Qui-Gon from him; the reminder of the countless nights that followed as he pulled apart nightmare after nightmare, fear after fear, only to discover that he’d been in love with his Master for years. 

He’d thought that love had withered away, at least on Qui-Gon’s part. That that was why Qui-Gon had left. 

Twelve years later, here they were again. He’d buried something living, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be forgiven for it. 

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, all right.”

#quiobi #hurt obi wan #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #yes i did hear 'Jabiim' and decide to go feral what about it #kiss prompts

[solasan]

just to prove we are still here

star wars / kenobi series — obi-wan kenobi/original character (sivala sylwiri). 1.7k. first kiss stuffs :) 

A smuggling route brings Sivala near the Tatoo System for the first time since Obi-Wan gave her his location. Domesticity ensues. 

When she does finally kiss him, it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It’s morning on Tatooine. The twin suns have already begun to burn over the horizon; sweat gathers on Sivala’s brow, even if it’ll be hours yet until high noon, when the heat becomes truly unbearable. Her layers itch uncomfortably against her damp skin. She only makes it a few minutes past dawn before she’s shrugging off her over-tunic and leaving it folded on the bed her and Obi-Wan have shared for the last three days.

Shared. Sivala hasn’t had a bedmate since she was a Padawan. Not that— that’s not what he is, exactly. She’s woken tangled in his arms every morning since she arrived, and the thought of sleeping without him is so impossible that she’s concerned for the coming nights after she leaves, but they haven’t… touched. In that way. Honestly, Obi-Wan was once so renowned for his adherence to the Code that she’s not sure he’s ever touched anyone like that.

Not that she’s asked him, exactly. It’s a thought she’s considered now and again; perhaps more frequently since landing on Tatooine, where she can feel the rise-then-fall of his chest against her bowed spine at night. It’s so much harder to lapse back into loneliness when he’s within arm’s reach, tangible and solid and alive.

On some level, she understands that these kinds of ideas are unworthy of a Jedi; that the path of attachment all-too-frequently leads to the dark side. But here, that doesn’t seem to matter so much. The Code, the Jedi, her vows— strangely enough, it all seems so far away when she’s around her old comrade. There’s just… this. The quiet hum of his vaporator under the hiss and spit of breakfast rehydrating in his kitchen; the low whisper of the wind rushing through the stone chambers of his home. All the domestic sounds of the life this man has made space for her within, however temporary it is.

Make no mistake, this is still an alien environment to picture him in. He was once more suited for the cushy interiors of Coruscanti apartments than anything else, after all. But in the details— yes, there’s something of him there. How organised the space is; the few shabby books he keeps on-hand, stacked neatly in the corner. Even the pale browns and muted oranges of the cave fit him, so that there’s something… soothing about this place she’d never seen before four days ago. 

His aura has always been blue, in her mind’s eye. Maybe she should reconsider.

“Breakfast,” he calls, footsteps shuffling over stone. 

Still halfway through packing away the blankets — as they have to do every morning, she’s learned, or else the sand will get into them by night — Sivala hums and gives him a distracted smile over her shoulder.

“Give me a minute.”

It takes some manoeuvring, but eventually she gets the fabric into place and locks the box away. Then she heaves a sigh and straightens, dusting her hands on her legs once, twice, three times. The sand on Tatooine. It gets everywhere.

“What are we eating?”

The light streams in behind him through the crevasse on the other side of the cave, so when she turns to look at him, she’s blinded for a moment. Long enough for him to cross the cramped space in only a few strides, then offer her one of the plates with a look she’s tempted to name sheepish.

“Hardly a local delicacy, I’m afraid. There’s little in the way of foraging all the way out here.”

Sivala reaches out, peering at it cautiously. It doesn’t look bad, thankfully; just sticky rice and rehydrated fruit, which is better than the carefully-rationed breakfasts they used to share in the old days, at least. She goes to say as much— and then realises he hasn’t let go of the plate yet, and neither has she.

The back of his hand is warm under her palm and questing fingers; calloused and somehow fragile. And it’s suddenly the simplest thing in the world, to lean forward and kiss him in thanks. Like something she’s been doing her whole life. Like— like something she’s meant to do every morning until that life ends.

It’s only quick. A peck. More than reflex; less than conscious choice. She can still feel the brush of his beard against her chin when she pulls away, like a bee sting. It’s a somehow pleasant kind of burn.

“Oh,” he says, afterwards.

Just that. ‘Oh.’ Nothing else. 

Sivala studies him thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing. She doesn’t— think it was unwelcome, or it doesn’t feel like it should be unwelcome, but she suddenly finds herself a little less certain than before. He doesn’t seem repulsed, at least. More than anything, he just looks startled; the lips she just touched part slightly around a hitched breath, his brows arching over wide blue eyes. 

And his aura has gone oddly quiet — after so long alone, she misses its low buzz, just a heartbeat away. But it isn’t panic that rises in her as she watches and waits. It’s… it’s something else. Something more cautious; not like facing an enemy, but like going into battle together again. Like placing her trust and her life in his hands the way she used to.

One of those hands twitches under her own now. Sivala licks her suddenly-dry lips, and he audibly swallows. She watches the movement of his throat under his beard and can only think, beautiful. He’s beautiful.

“Right,” he murmurs, more to himself than her. “Yes.”

“Obi-Wan—”

He puts the plates down on the hunk of rock they’ve been using as a table for the last few days. First his, pushed by the fingers she isn’t touching. She expects him to release her so he can put down the other, but he doesn’t; he just switches hands and places the plate beside his own. Like… like he doesn’t intend on letting her go.

When he turns back to her, he says so softly, “wait.” Like a plea.

So she does.

His hand turns in her own until their fingers tangle; his are oddly cold, for how hot the planet is, and on instinct, she tightens her grip until their palms brush. Something electric and alive shoots up Sivala’s spine at the touch, and she wants— she wants to pull away, or maybe she wants to lean in, but she does neither. Just inhales carefully. Exhales. Watches him watch her.

Watches him— step into her, his face set. He’s drawn close enough now that her arm has to bend at the elbow to accommodate his grip, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s… it’s strangely nice. She can’t remember the last time she stood this close to someone that wasn’t trying to kill her. She’d forgotten what it felt like.

“Obi-Wan,” Sivala whispers, his name plush and sweet and familiar on her tongue.

He shudders out a breath. Again: “Wait.”

With his free hand, he cups her jaw. His pulse throbs through his palm and into her teeth; she could count his heartbeats like this. Count the greys threading through his temples. Count his eyelashes.

She doesn’t do any of those things. She just— waits.

And then, between one moment and the next, he kisses her. He kisses her, and it’s achingly gentle. Like the press of his chest against her back in bed, Obi-Wan’s kiss isn’t an assumption or an imposition; it’s a comfort. Not alone, thumps her heart in triple-time. Not alone anymore.

Maybe he deepens it. Maybe she does. She’s not— things get a little blurry once his mouth opens against hers and she tastes his breath for the first time. Cinnamon and fruit and something spicy on her tongue. Home, for all she never thought it had a taste.

He makes a fragile little noise in the back of his throat, and that has a taste, too, something sharp and cold but somehow refreshing, like ice water behind the teeth. Leaning into him, she chases the sound with a small sigh of her own, luxuriating in the slow ease that kissing him brings with it. It’s like working through Shien manoeuvres before the sun rises, or the way that meditation used to feel to her. It’s— peaceful.

His fingers tremble ever-so-finely where they touch her cheek. With her free hand, Sivala follows the curve of his forearm from inner elbow all the way to wrist; encircles the delicate map of bones and veins between her fingers, and rubs her thumb over his pulse. 

Not alone, she thinks again, this time for his benefit, because she sees no need to guard her mind here. You’re not alone.

Obi-Wan’s breath hitches, his grip on her cheek solidifying slightly as the knowledge settles over them both like a cloak or a warm blanket; a shield against the cold. Their kisses slow, become more lingering, unwilling to part for long. The whole planet has gone silent, but it’s not the kind she usually hates. It’s… reassuring. There’s only this: only them and the air between them and the feeling of relief that comes from it, like finally dousing a rotten wound in bacta.

He barely pulls away, resting his brow on hers, and Sivala feels his reluctance to put any distance between them like it’s her own. Honestly, at this point, it could be. It’s somehow harder to tell the difference between him and her, now, here, with Obi-Wan’s presence wrapped around her as it is. 

She lets herself live in that cottony ambiguity for several more moments, just committing the feeling of it all to memory. In what’s probably the closest to meditation she’s come to in some time, she finds herself picking out the noises around her; his breathing; her heartbeat; a vaporator on the fritz. Such simple sounds, but somehow, they mean so much.

When she opens her eyes, he’s already looking at her. 

“Hello there.”

She huffs a laugh. Presses her forehead more firmly to his. “Hello, indeed.”

There’s a hundred things wrong with the galaxy in this moment. Somewhere, a Force-sensitive child is being ripped away from their mother. Somewhere, an Inquisitor puts a lightsaber through an innocent. Somewhere, goodness is dying.

But here, this morning, there’s breakfast to be eaten and hopefully a few more kisses to be had. So that’s what they’ll do.

#this one is NOT going on ao3 im embarrassed #he's so ooc ok i KNOW he's so ooc shhhhh #anyways. feeling normal and fine over them today :) #my writing #ch: sivala sylwiri #long post /

[veradragonjedi]

for the fic wip ask meme - could you tell us more about your dinluke vampire au fic? I want to know more about the lore and stuff

Let me preface this by saying I might cry 😭

Thank you (the imposter syndromes rlly been hitting different lately and this makes me feel better)

Ask me a fic question!

Lore and stuff is a grey area, but I've made a post about how vampires in my story came to be from a previous ask.

Instead, I'll talk about how i designed Luke's upbringing and how I slotted him and vampire!Leia into the original plot of the OT!

Here goes, thank you so much:

I wrote the first chapter of BBB on a whim, fully expecting it to go completely under the dinluke radar, and it turns out people liked it! I thought for a while about how a vampire could exist in star wars, and I came to the conclusion that Luke would be veiled, susceptible to the occasional blood cravings, and a hopeless insomniac (due to his kind being nocturnal).

First of all, how would this fare with Tatooine being his place of upbringing?

Well, Shmi raised Anakin, learned all she could, and taught it to Beru (link to this piece is up there ^ how vampires came to be) so, Beru learned after taking in Luke that she would have to feed him blue milk and fruit to suppress the blood cravings and dress him in many layers to avoid sunburn and sickness.

(Leia's adoptive parents did not have this knowledge, this is talked about in Ch2, Where Fruit Doesn't Grow) here's a snip to explain:

~~~..... about Luke ->

Shmi had taught Beru everything she knew before her brutal murder: how to keep a vampire’s fragile skin healthy, how to make the medicines and pastes needed for burns out of cheap herbs you could find at any market, and, especially, how to appease the appetite of an adolescent with a craving for blood. Despite the troubles with two suns, and Luke’s often reckless behaviour, on a planet where life was scarce, food was their biggest problem.

Beru had never let that stop her. Whether it meant long hour shifts or staying out late at night to kill and sell large creatures, she always made sure she had saved enough money to buy Luke’s favourite treats from the local fruit import at the end of each ten-day. That, and bantha milk, seemed to cut off need for red meat for a short while, and Luke would be forever grateful that he didn’t have to live the way he was born.

Even if being “normal” meant sneaking out to eat fruit and climb trees each night.

And while Beru was almost always busy, convinced that it was her job to provide for the child she loved so much, Uncle Owen stayed home. He taught Luke how to fix rusty parts of vapour spires, or how to cook simple dishes, while his wife taught Luke how to use a farmer’s rifle.

~~~..... about Leia ->

She’d been loved, cared for, she’d taken on the role of Princess and then Senator at a younger age than many simply because of her powerful and intelligent role models.

But they didn’t know how to raise a vampire.

Leia would run away, climb trees and watch the starships fly by from the canopies. A life without the rules that Luke had lived by, but it had left her susceptible to sun-sickness and often heatstroke. All things had their price.

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

So, that was that bit covered, but how does this work with the original trilogy? The bits we see, anyway?

I'll go into what I did in ch10 and 11, a little into 9, and what I'll do in future to explain.

In ch10 and 11 we see (from a separate perspective that I can't tell you about unless you've read those chapters) Luke's return from blowing up the Death Star at the Battle of Yavin, and Luke's final victory after his duel with Vader and his punishment from Palpatine during the Battle of Endor.

In ch10, BY, as it isn't Luke's perspective, I don't need to go into depth about his senses, his experience, or the X-Wings tinted windows to block out harmful sunlight — this is all however referenced in previous and future chapters.

Neither did I have to in ch11 — again, we see it from someone else's view — but we do see a moment between Luke and Leia, where his sister is tending to his burn wounds.

Ch2: The scorching dash of white lightning that had climbed his skin and imprinted itself forever on his body.

Ch9: The flashing lights, rippling the starless sky like silver fish in a black lake, sent Luke back to the Emperor’s throne room on the second Death Star, writhing in the most agony he’d ever felt. It was worse than sunlight: a sensation of scorching heat, wrapping like vines around his body, unwilling to let go, and permanently damaging his skin when he had never before suffered any more than sun-sickness.

Finally, Ch11: The lightning had fractured him, left long, red cuts and burns along his toned body. They were even on his face, crossing his nose and either cheek in one long strike that split into thinner lines like the tributaries of a scorched, red river. His blue eyes were wet with tears, and his face morphed into an exhausted scowl.

Luke's skin — him being vampiric — is weak and easily scarred. When I rewatched RotJ, I immediately knew that I couldn't have him completely unscathed after the lightning incident, considering that just meer minutes in the sun causes him immense pain.

Vampire!Luke by @jspookywolf

I know this is likely not what you asked for, and I know that I might’ve got a little too excited, but thank you so much for this (even if you are just a mutual who wants to make me feel better)

Here is some fanart that imma start tagging here as well:

Vampire!Luke 1 and 2 by @airlocksandaviaries (there are more but he says that she's progressed since then so here are the latest XD)

#Knowing my mutuals its probably one of you trying to make me feel better but whatevs it's WORKING #vee answers #anon #i know its probably El. and ik he doesnt care #but fuck off im happy #dinluke #long post

[inkasrain]

the weight of all things

Synopsis: Leia jumps, and Obi-Wan Kenobi watches her fall. Based on: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Episode Two. Warnings: Brief suicidal thoughts.

Other notes: Flashbacks, dream sequences, desert angst.

Hold and let go. This is the Jedi way.

He had thought it would be difficult, letting go of the Force. It is not.

He had thought, I will miss its song in my ears. But there is only an echo, like a quiet voice cut off, and that quickly gone.

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

The girl stands like a bird on the rooftop edge, her body tensed for flight. Her head flickers back and forth, evaluating the drop before her and the old man behind her. 

Her eyes flash bright in the bursts of blaster fire, and on her face he can read her rapid calculus, simple yet sound. All the things the girl knows and does not know, reduced down and down again to suspicion -- the base element he himself has so carefully fostered inside her.

His voice is hoarse from shouting her name, as though it will forge a bond between them, a line that might reel this child back to safety. But names, he knows, are flimsy protection, easily cast away; he himself is proof of that. 

The girl’s father was, also.

He follows her brief silhouette as she sprints to the edge of the roof, and leaps.

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

He had thought he had known his body, before rejecting the Force. He did not.

On Tatooine, his limbs become heavy, the effort of clearing out his small cave exhausts him. 

Hold and let go. 

His fingers grow clumsy, stuttering on the bits and pieces of metal he painstakingly installs to guard his home. More than once, he finds himself falling, sprawled on knee-cracking stone. His palms grow rough with catching his full weight, unbouyed by the generosity of the Force.

At first, he blames the pressing heat, the dry air, the constant thirst. If he wakes each morning aching, surely it is for no reason other than that he spends each night asleep on unforgiving stone. 

It is his dreams that prove him the fool, again. 

He no longer meditates, no longer gathers the Force around him to sleep on its gentle edies. When the suns set, he lays down and drops off, exhaustion carrying him off to landscapes lit by lava and redolent of burning skin. He wanders there, empty-handed, until the double dawn sets the sky ablaze.

He often watches the suns rise, sweat already prickling across his skin. There is a spot on his chest that pains him most in the mornings, after the dreams. He kneads it with aching fingers, wondering if that is the place where the Force lived within him; wonder if he waits long enough, it might someday heal.

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

The girl drops. In an instant, he has thrown himself across the roof-edge, sees her dangling from the cables that stretch across the alley below. In her green cape, she could almost be a leaf, trembling in its final moments on the tree.

“Hold on!” he croaks, uselessly. “Hold on tight!” 

He can’t look at her face, shocked and flooded with terror; instead, he locks on her small hand, fingers barely long enough to grip the cable.

“Ben!” she cries, and then again. 

“Don’t let go, Leia!” he says. “Hold on tight!”

His words do nothing. He can see her fingers weakening, deadly millimeters of the cable exposed beneath her hand. 

Hold and let go.

In that moment he feels, as never quite before, the devastating absoluteness of his own physicality. He cannot reach her with his arms; he cannot run fast enough to catch her before she meets the alley floor. He merely exists, a spectral witness to tragedy.

“Hold on,” he says, “Just--”

She falls.

He has been told that reaching out to his master through the Force will be difficult. He does not try. 

But in the blankness of the desert, his ghosts find him anyway.

The woman he had loved comes to him often, wearing  a sad smile on her face and a bloody gown. He tells her elaborate stories, memories and hopes. The boy he was, the man he might have been by her side. Some of them are even true.

The senator he sees less frequently, as if her spirit is overwhelmed by duty as she was in life. With her, he is scrupulously honest. The boy wailed all night, I could hear him across the dunes. He has started to walk. He wants to be a pilot. I will do what I can. 

Sometimes his master visits, settling into a nook of the sun-baked cave, utterly still. He only ever arrives at those hours once set aside for meditation and labor of the spirit, a gentle chiding of the ever-wayward pupil. 

To the dead Jedi, he says little, and what he does say always takes the form of a question. Did you know that he would fall? That I would fail him? That all we worked for was doomed?

His master does not answer.

The girl falls in the shape of a star, untouchable.

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

It was not the Jedi way to reject weaknesses and death. The order embraced it, or so they said. Strength, vitality, power -- all are gifts offered briefly by the Force, soon drawn back into its shining tide. Even those beings whose lifespans made human existence seem a heartbeat eventually withered and failed with time. 

Eventually, all things were lost -- all things but the Force.

Hold and let go.

As a point of philosophy, this had once offered him great comfort. It had guided him through grief and pain, propelled him past impossible odds. All that he is, all for which he suffers and grieves, are only fleeting sparks -- vivid yes, but all bound to drift home to the flame.

He does not consciously let go of this belief for a year, perhaps more, after he arrives on the desert planet. 

One night, there is a tremor in the sand --  a shift beneath the fathoms of dust, perhaps, or else one of the great sandcreatures flowing just too close to his makeshift home. In the morning he wakes to find the entrance to his cave closed in by boulders. A small gap lets in air, he will not suffocate, but he cannot squeeze himself through or even reach the small vaporator planted in the sand outside.

He peers through the space in the stones and calls himself worse than a fool. He has known fools, scoffed at the thoughtless instinct that drove them. He was a Jedi, guided by ideology, faith in the Force, a higher being. 

In the cave, thirst itching at his throat, he knows that he was merely a zealot, a slave bound in irons of faith. He believed himself to be transcendent of suffering because, in his passion, he refused to feel his own pain.

Anakin never did, someone whispers from within a shadow, or his own mind. Anakin felt it all. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leia. Leia. Leia.

No. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He has been told that, for a Jedi, dying is easy. Aspiring to foolishness in his cave, it is more than easy; it is a relief, an eye-blink, lighter than breath. He contemplates death with a casualness that would shatter a Jedi.

But then he thinks of the boy, sees the Senator’s cool brown eyes, and he begins the work of freeing himself.

It takes him two and half days to clear a path of the boulders, shifting rock after rock in the smallest possible increments. Each millimeter is a victory, the weight a constant, stolid stubbornness with which there can be no negotiation. 

Hold and let go.

His ghosts watch without comment. He wonders if they are disappointed in his choice, but he cannot muster the strength to ask. 

He had thought he had known weight before, known weakness. As a youngling, setting small objects afloat as gravity protested; as a Jedi, the heaviness of a dying friend in his arms or the seething pressure of a once-brother’s blade against his own. 

He was wrong. The Jedi smiled away the weight of all things, he realizes. Their own bodies, the vastness of planets. In their strength, they had all forgotten what it was to be weaker than the galaxy around them.

Now he remembers. His hands bleed, his back crackles with pain. His vision doubles with exhaustion and thirst. He feels it all, he holds it. He does not let it go.

When he finally crawls through the gap he has made in the rockfall, he drags himself to the vaporator and collapses beneath it. His limbs buzz with dehydration, the sun-bleached sky is full of stars. Moisture, too heavy for the air, trickles into his mouth and down his beard. 

What a gallant lie, he thinks, to say that any Jedi has ever really known the taste of weakness.

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

The girl falls, and so he reaches for her. He stretches out his hand, and he reaches into the Force.

It is like reaching through a solid wall. Like holding up a world. 

She falls.

The Force does not resist him; it merely waits for him to tire. One stronger, one more worthy than he could breach the barrier. The man he had once been, or thought he was before the fire and the children and the desert – that man could have done this, and easily.

She falls.

His whole being shudders with the sheer weight of it, he tastes metal on his tongue. There is a voice in his ears now, but he cannot tell if it is a song or a scream. He throws his heart against the wall and he knows it will not yield for the Jedi he was. The Jedi do not know weakness. 

But he does.

His arm is agony, surely it is being crushed in the empty city air, but still he reaches, he reaches–

And the girl slows.

He is blind through a kaleidoscope of tears and sweat, but he feels her, close as the moments just after she was born. She drifts downward like a feather, floating toward the wet alley floor. He feels her surprise, the sweet taste of discovery. Between the sky and the earth, the galaxy has gained a new dimension. 

There is still a weight upon him, his muscles still strain against it. But something eases in his chest, the evaporation of pain he has long forgotten to notice. Even the weight has grown somehow familiar, like a memory, the weight of a child clutching his neck.

A boy with sweat-dark hair, shivering with the fever of a new planet and missing his mother. All he has for comfort is a callow, arrogant, sad young man, his own hair still shorn close to his scalp, a young man who would not come to love the boy for another decade. 

He can almost smell Anakin’s skin, almost feel the heat of his small face buried in his shoulder.

As he looks down, the girl hovers and then settles against the ground, a child lowered from caring arms into a soft bed. Her eyes, he knows, are wide as stars.

Hold. Hold. Hold.

And let go.

#obi wan fanfiction #obi wan kenobi #general kenobi #star wars fan fiction #star wars fanfiction #obi wan fic #star wars tv #star wars #obi wan series #obi wan and leia #ewan mcgregor #obi wan kenobi is sad sometimes #reva sevander #padme amidala #qui gon jinn #qui gon and obi wan #obi wan and satine #satine #duchess satine #obi wan x satine #tatooine #one shot #obi wan angst #kenobi series #sw kenobi #kenobi show #anakin skywalker #ao3 #cross posted on ao3 #Obi-Wan Kenobi

[rayna-djarin-of-mandalore]

Chapter 1 Before The Storm

Before she could open her eyes, she knew she hurt all over.

The aches and pains had settled deep into her bones, rattling around her frame with each deep breath she took.

Shaking the cobwebs from her mind, she opened her eyes, holding back the bitter cries as she tried to sit up.

The dark visor of her mask tinted the scorching sun, as she took in her surroundings.

The Bounty she had been after; she had heard rumors about him from the local town; he was human, old… had put up more of a fight than she had thought.

The bastard was tough, she gave him credit where it was due; but as she scanned the sands, she spotted him. The mangled, bloody body of the bounty lay a few hundred feet away from her.

But another body lay just beyond his, and he had met a fate worse than death. Rey, a fellow Bounty Hunter, had been caught in the crosshairs of the blaster fire, dumbfounded and without protection. He always was too slow on his draw.

His neck had been sliced open drained nearly of all his blood as it splattered across layers of sand before she could even get to him.

The heat of the sand began to slowly sink into her flight suit, burning her pale skin.

It was becoming un-fucking-bearable.

“Shit,” licking parched lips, she stood on wobbly legs dusting the sand from her battered clothes.

The Bounty was at least three times her size in weight and height; the scent of iron still painted in the faint distance as she spotted the still oozing wound seeping from his chest.

Dammed bastard was going to bleed from here to her ship.

-

She sighed, cursing the Maker for ruining her day.

Coming to terms with her fate, she discharged her grappling hook wrapping it tightly around his ankles.

If anything, she could drag the fucker, like a ragdoll.

Grabbing the beeping tracking fob from Rey’s pocket, she slid it into her jacket and began the hike back to her ship.

Four fucking hours. What had been nothing more than a brisk fifteen-minute hike through the sands; now had turned into four fucking hours of blistering hell on The Maker’s Ball Sack.

Coming over the crest of the hill, she caught sight of the reflection from her ship, as the dying suns of Tatooine were slowly turning into nightfall of sweat and stillness.

“Home sweet bloody home… Wouldn’t you say, dear?” She eyed the corpse of her latest kill.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” She moved on, adjusting the strap to her shoulder, “Don’t worry, I could probably talk enough for the both of us, not that it will do me much good anyways, probably just means I’m going crazy…” Tapping her armguard, she entered the code unlocking her ship and watching as the hatch opened.

Tossing the bounty into the carbonite, she closed the hatch and made her way up to the cockpit, she took a seat in the pilot’s chair, letting out a heavy sigh, as the tension of the day drain deep into her bones… turning her attention to the control switch, she contemplated… her hands hovered over the map, her eyes straining heavily, hand twitching with anticipation.

She knew the coordinates like the back of her hand. But fuck she didn’t know if she could face him. So many years had passed since she had last seen her husband… Word had traveled quickly that she had been killed during a hunt for a Bounty.

Funny, how life likes to kick you when you’re life seems to finally be going right. Her hands twitched into a nagging cramp, the leather of her gloves crinkling with how tightly worn her hands clenched. Her breathing felt unsteady; her heart was beating like a drum of war – it echoed so loud, it started ringing. She wasn’t ready for this. Even if she had escaped by some miracle, she was a different person now.

She was drowning in blood; nightmares of those she had killed before she ran still haunted her after so many years of trying to justify her wrongful doings.

“What the fuck am I doing?” her lips trembled with wet tears. Taking off her helmet, she ran unsteady, battled worn fingers through, greased filled crimson locks.

She couldn’t calm her mind.

“Shit!”

She screamed a vicious cry, slamming her hands down on the control panel.

-

“I need to talk to Greef Karga,” She walked into The Bounty Hunter’s Guild’s Cantina, eyeing the human and Twi’lek Hunter.

They eyed her with curious eyes but didn’t think anything of her, pointing to the far end table. She already knew where he would be; old habits die hard, and he never gave up his spot. She just needed to play her cards right.

She needed to drop off the bounty and get the hell out of here, to hell with the credits, she had enough credits from, her days running through space as from another life.

“And just who are you beautiful?” Karga wasn’t one to shy away from flirting, it wasn’t often a stranger who walked into the Guild’s Cantina.

“Name’s May,” she tossed the tracking fob down, “Bounty’s outside.” Karga sat forward, eyeing the tracking fob, “I don’t recall giving you this bounty, and I know every one of my bounty hunters. I gave this tracking fob to Rey; you want to tell me what happened?”

She sighed, “He’s dead, and your bounty killed him. I put him down before he started killing the town.”

“Nice work Little Lady, I’ll have my men collect… Rey always was a son of a bitch, was always too cocky for this line of work, how about I offer you his job instead and the credits are yours?”

“I don’t want the job, and I want you to give the credits to a Bounty Hunter by the name of Mando.”

“You know Mando?” She shrugged, turning to walk away, “Tell him, they’re from an old friend.”

“I didn’t realize Mando had old friends.”

“Thanks for your time, I better be going.”

“Mando!” Karga greeted The Mandalorian, “Seems you’ve been busy.”

Mando tossed, several Bounty tracking fobs down on the table, “What else have you got?”

Karga nodded to his men to unload the cargo of Bounties.

“Before I show you, your next job. I have a little gift for you,” he slid a bag of 100,000 credits towards The Mandalorian.

“What’s this for?” Mando seemed confused. “There was a girl who came in here the other day, she took down Rey’s Bounty.”

Mando was silent for a moment… “The outlaw Vain?”

Karga nodded, “He took out Rey, but she was able to kill him… I offered her the position and his credits, but she didn’t want neither, said to give you the credits specifically… said it was from an old friend and then left.”

“Did she give a name?” Mando seemed intrigued, who just gives up 100,000 credits?

“She said her name was May, a pretty little thing from what I could tell… But I was only able to see her eyes… But look it’s probably nothing, probably just some girl you helped save, don’t overthink it too much, enjoy yourself a bit, and now are you ready for your next job?”

Mando felt a tension creep up from the base of his spine, rolling like a heat wave as he stared at the pouch of credits.

“Yes.”

-

In the distance she watched him, in the shadows where most did not walk; where she could admire her beloved from afar and freely cry years’ worth of broken promises.

She had lingered far too long for her liking in a town she couldn’t call home anymore.

But she had to see him.

Even if he didn’t know it.

She had to know; he was safe.

Even if lingering where the bounty was high on her; she was willing to risk it all, she would die happily knowing she got to see him one last time. The small voice in the back of her mind wouldn’t shut up, until she saw him.

He walked with purpose, with a tension on his shoulders that carried from years of years of Bounty Hunting; his right shoulder an injury she knew cursed him from time to time. He protected that side more than anything. That’s why she always guarded his left.

But it was that flicker of dancing movements that caught her eye; something so small to an untrained eye that it seemed like a gust of wind to most. But she knew better.

Someone was watching her.

Someone was watching him.

Her eyes grew wide with a fear that could cripple the galaxy; her hand reaching for her blaster, trembling.

She was willing to risk exposure for his safety.

Mando moved through the streets, paying vendors as he gathered supplies for his next hunt. Why hasn’t he noticed them? She didn’t want to cause a scene, but the shadows began to move closer; looming in the darkness of each vendors shaded area.

Yet Mando did not sway from his resupply.

“Shit,” she bit down on her lip, drawing blood to the surface. Jumping from her hiding spot, blaster drawn and at the ready she raced back into the streets, adrenaline pumping into her muscles to get to him in time.

“Mando!”

She screamed into the streets, drawing her weapon, as the shadows emerged from behind stone walls.

The Mandalorian turned at the sound of the chaos, as people screamed running from the masked woman whose blaster was pointed at the Bounty Hunter. Drawing his own blaster, Mando was ready to defend himself against the unknown assailant. But when she fired, she did not hit beskar. A grunt drew Mando away from her, as he watched a dark cloaked figure dropped at his feet. Turning back to his now savior, he watched as the masked figure retreated running at a high speed.

He gave chase.

“Wait!”

He tried to call out, but it was no use, the distance only grew between them. Mando stopped, catching his breath. That’s when he spotted it.

A shimmer of silver buried in the sand, discarded with haste… Or broken off in a chase.

He picked up the silver, dusting off the sand, revealing a beautifully crafted set of wedding bands, the rings were rough around the edges, worn and battered from years of wear and tear; the smooth and nicked craftsmanship from the unsteady hands of a nervous Mandalorian who crafted these rings with all the love in the Galaxy. The details had vanished, the engraved lettering so far gone, he could barely make out the words symbolizing his love for the woman who captured his heart all those years ago.

There was no mistaking it.

He could spot these rings out of a thousand of the most precious gems.

He looked, watching as the shadow of his savior became nothing more than a speck of sand blowing in the wind.

Was this the Maker’s way of laughing at Mando for the loss he could never replace; or did the Maker have something far worse in store for him?

#din djarin x ofc #din djarin #the mandalorian #mando x oc

[brooklynislandgirl]

@kylo-wrecked   {{xx}}

She doesn’t remember how she got…here, or where here really is. The sense of smell so sharp in her is dulled like an overused knife by the congestion in her head and in her lungs, which in turn saps her strength. It is familiar enough though that she doesn’t fight it even if she’d rather be in her own bed. Everything is too cold and her body shivers; it is the heat trying to burn away illness that spikes her core temperature. Andy was of no help to her, hovering just at the edge of her perception, not wanting to catch whatever’s going around but not wholly capable of letting her languish without him, but half the time he doesn’t seem to hear her. She drifts on the tides of the dream-sea. The sky above her is so full of unfamiliar stars to navigate by though once in a while she gathers as much power as she can muster to reach for them; the way they would navigate in the olden days, with fixed stars that created maps handed down in old songs and between fingers. Fingers. Her own that feel disembodied and floating in front of her, seeking for anything that will help keep her earth-bound. What they find is his wrist and she latches on to the lifeline of him to feel the beat of his heart until a wracking shudder robs her of any willpower and she has no choice to let go. She has no idea how long it takes for her to fall back onto soft lumps of cloud. There’s a word for them but not that she can remember just then. Perhaps the word was lost when Andy becomes Ben becomes a jackal god come to guide her to halls of judgement, which would be very odd, that’s not a part of her paradigm. Sebehy er rut ta desehert Iw iyin s n kekw Em Seshet’w djuu senefu

Crying out from the Red Land, came a man of darkness, with evil bloody secrets. But that’s ridiculous. Ben doesn’t bleed. Certainly no longer and not for her. She does not thirst for it to sluice down her throat, hot and full of life. A flash of an image in her mind though is alluring; the palness of his skin beneath her lips. Her breath haltingly whispers a borderline sweet sigh, but the gaze slanted his way is verdant delirium shining like dawn through trees that haven’t grown on Tatooine in any memory, living or dead. But her slim dark brows a moment later attempt to morph together around the confused ridges. Ben is haunted by old ghosts. They crowd in around him and breath icily upon his neck but never manifest distinctly. They simply sweep through and around him leaving behind things that seem to swim in the depths of his eyes, so dark now they are moonless nights guarded by the gates of his lashes, but she swears she can feel them just the same. She doesn’t want to see them any more than he likely does, and closes her eyes. It takes its toll on her and she swallows down the desire to be sick. He bathes her brow though, fighting Pele’s fires back with the grace of Nāmaka and she tries to murmur her gratitude at the feeling of Mother’s kiss on sweat laden skin. She can’t though, because of the vibrations. They begin in her bones. Pure sound, tremulous and too full of grief. Comes from somewhere deep in his chest, buried under the weight of everything he holds back with each transition of the Twin Suns. It comes from very far away. The resonance is inside of her chest. The effect is as mad as Orpheus’ flight. She offers him the lyrics he leaves off, thinking perhaps she’s succumbed to the sleep she so desperately needs. Whether it’s delirium or that way she talks…so often responding to things he’s said or asked with what seems like nonsense, because she genuinely has no idea that she’s garbled words in the nebulous space between her ears and her brain, or not caught the nuance of the twist of his lips…only he can judge. “....Is s-s-stealin’....da dimes….”   

#kylo-wrecked #Stardust|Ben Solo #Parallel Lines|Ben and Beth #Rusty Cage|ExCon verse #Cruisin' Mos Espa|A Place Called Tatooine

[multistoty]

“My heart made its choice, and it chose you.”

Luke was entirely prepared for Mara to smack the grin off his face as it threatened to rival the Tatooine suns. His hand reached to cup the delicate skin of her face. Reverent love in his bright blue orbs. He knew the darkness that courted her well in addition to the scars emotionally and physically left on their forms. Leaning forward to gently press the open gates of his lips against hers that were as soft as the first snow. It was a connection of bodies that spoke without words having to be true. Happy tears gleaming in his eyes. He was proud of many things in his life, but the lightsaber and galaxy saving was nothing in respect to the woman in his arms. Hair as red as blood, eyes as green as the jade of her life, skin heart shaped face like that of an angel and more beautiful than any fiction could come up with. Home isn't where you're from, it's where you find light when all grows dark. The measure of a person is what they do when they have power. Mara Jade was no sith, and there was no drops of darkness corrupting her water. In her eyes, he saw his heart. In her breath, he hears his soul. She is his land. She is his kin. his love. For the two of them, home isn't a place. It's a person. And they were finally home. Steel is power. Money is power. But of all the things in all the worlds, words are power. "Well that's wonderful for i would burn down the galaxy just to dig you from the ashes. You are my life, my love. And my heart is yours to break and hold should you wish it. I will do my best to love and honor you no matter the situation. thank you for allowing me in."

[oloreaa]

rea,, the elana in you really jumped out with the outrage over grogu getting a lightsaber

The Elana in me is constantly yelling whenever I watch the show because thaTS NOT HOW YOU TREAT A CHILD DIN-

#i almost had a heart attack when he just LEFT grogu in the speederbike in the heat when getting into that bar #like sir im happy you got your sexy entrance but YOUR CHILD IS IN THE SUN #IN THE TATOOINE SUNS WHERE HIS SKIN WILL BURN OFF #also?? im happy the seatbelts are all on but LOOP DE LOOPS #and WHERE DID YOU LEAVE GROGU WHEN YOU WENT OFF WITH AHSOKA #WHO TUCKED HIM IN #like rationally i know that he is doing his best and sometimes there is no other way but in times like these i wish there was a caretaker #like not even a love interest or whatever #give me someone like old woman sophie or peli who yells at din when he leaves his child AGAIN #rea rambles #💌

[murdertoothpick]

kinktober day 26

leather/latex | din djarin x gn!reader

warnings: sexual tension, implied smut, reader wearing harness+garters as hunting attire (and because its hot duh), 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, fleshed out this idea with @findhimfives | w/c: 1365 | full kinktober masterlist

You huff at your continuous failure to hook the buckle of your harness into the right hole, blindly fiddling with the strap of leather behind your back. It's almost time to leave, and for some reason, you waited until now to attempt putting on your new harness and matching garters for the first time.

'Uh...Mando?' you frown to yourself, hoping he hears you from wherever he is on the ship, 'Could you help me out with something?'

His response comes a second later, and expectedly, it's without words. You hear his steps as he makes his way to the source of your voice - and then they stop, metres away from you.

You turn your head to the doorway where he's standing still, his visor staring back at you. He blocks the door, body massive and hulking, shoulders squared as he traps you under his gaze. You gulp, awkwardly gesturing the loose strap of leather that is around your waist and ending somewhere behind your back.

'Could you...'

He nods, closing the distance and prompting you to turn back around. 'I just need you to secure the fastening,' you continue.

The Mandalorian stands behind you, focusing on the movements of his hands as he secures the harness to your form, the leather wrapped snug around your waist and comfortable with the straps over your shoulders.

'Is this okay?' he questions in his usual register, yet his close proximity makes the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. You're grateful that he's wearing his helmet.

'Yeah,' you manage, trying to keep your voice steady, 'Could you, uhm... help me with my garters too?' You move away from him, retrieving the pair of leather loops to be secured around your thighs, with holsters in which you can store your weapons. It's a moment of stillness before he agrees, lowering himself onto his knees in front of you.

He takes the article from your hand, and then his other curls around yours to guide it onto his shoulder to give you support. The entire time he doesn't look at you, but with him kneeling that close to you, you find it best not to look at him either.

The Mandalorian gently taps your heel, urging you to lift your foot so that he can slide the leather up your leg. Your breath hitches when he does, and you realise - much too late - that you're wearing shorts, much too little compared to the armour he dons, every inch of his skin shielded by thick fabric and beskar plates. Of all days, the first time you're able to break out your new accessories, it's hot and sweltering - and he, as always, is unfazed by Tatooine's desert suns.

You don't even notice the grunt that sounds from the helmet as he fumbles with the clasp at your thigh. You feel utterly exposed, and it only worsens when —

Shit.

Is that his fucking hand?

Your breath hitches immediately upon first contact and your eyes widen when you realise that he's no longer wearing his gloves. And the Mandalorian never takes off his gloves. The Mandalorian, whom has never shown you an inch of his skin, not even accidentally, is touching you with his bare hands. By his own will.

You are completely fucked.

His skin feels like it burns yours, heating you up faster than the atmosphere of this sand ridden planet. His fingers brush against the edges of the leather strap, every gentle touch getting your heart rate to pick up and conversely, giving you chills.

And then he's holding your thigh with both hands, pulling it closer toward him and lifting your foot slightly off the ground, your knee bending up in front of you.

'Is this okay?'

You look down and Maker, his hands are right there, framing the garter on your thigh. Holy shit.

'—Don't wanna leave a mark,' he says.

You gulp, 'I don't mind.' And shit.

The air stills. Everything has just gotten quieter, impossibly so. He can hear your breathing. The only reaction you get from him is a small tilt of his head, but you can't see the concealed quirk of his lips as he smirks behind the helmet at the implication.

He tightens the band, not protesting your answer. He struggles to view it as simply, purely innocent.

Moving to secure the garter to your harness, he slides his hands up your legs, flattening the connecting strap along your thigh. You jolt with the brush of his fingers at the top of your thighs, too close to your region of sensitivity. Your fingers dig into his cowl where you're still holding onto his shoulders, apparently needing the support now.

'Does it hurt?'

'No,' you're quick to answer, internally cringing at rushed-out response.

You don't expect anything more, no stranger to retreating to your own thoughts after brief exchanges with Mando. But then he speaks again, and you're not sure what shocks you more: his words or the smile in his voice.

'Do you want it to?'

And for once, it is you with no reply. It doesn't hold the same gravitas as his—the Mandalorian's silence is intimidating, powerful—yours is unassuming and a sign of your fluster.

You flinch at the foreign sound that cuts through the air.

The Mandalorian chuckles—chuckles—your lack of an answer only confirming the direction his mind had gone moments earlier. He’s enjoying this.

That karking bastard.

Ire flashes in your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek in thought as you attempt to decipher his movements. He’s moved on to your other leg, repeating the tap of your leg so you can lift it up and he can slide the garment up like he did before. This time though, you hope to be better prepared—prepared to fight fire with fire.

You minutely rub your thighs together in front of him, and his fingers pause just for the briefest of seconds as you settle with your legs together. You smile inwardly to yourself, feigning innocence in your tone and expression, ‘So that they’re level with each other,’ you reason, gesturing to the pair of leather straps.

Right. He fixes the height of the second garter, ensuring that it sits at the same height of the first one.

You hum in satisfaction as they match up, squeezing his shoulder in assurance.

Repeating his same movements as before, this time more smoother and less nervous, Mando tightens the leather, and looks up at you for your answer.

‘Yeah,’ you reply in an exhale, this time not bothering to steady your voice and any nerves you might still have, ‘Just like that.’

He's completely still, staring at you for a few beats. You main eye contact with him as best you can through your t-visor, biting back a smile. He can see the glint of mischief dancing in your pupils, a common testament to your penchant for 'fun', and a boldness he had managed to catch wavering moments earlier.

Usually, he'd find it endearing. But right now, your definition of fun seems to be getting him hard in his flight suit. And now he has a hunt to do—it’s not the hunt that’s the problem, but how much tension will it help him release when you will be by his side in the straps of leather that he helped you out on, carrying the weapons that he taught you how to use? Yeah, he is completely fucked.

‘Mando?’

He blinks. What’s happening?

‘You’re done.’

Right. He retracts his hands from yours, decidedly not looking at your mostly bare legs as he lifts himself onto his feet. He immediately opts for the door, not caring about a ‘thank you,’ but you side step in front of him, stopping him in his tracks with other plans.

‘Thank you,’ you murmur, dancing two fingers up his chest plate. You lower your voice even lower, not meeting his gaze at you stare at the beskar. It speaks to the taboo and perhaps, the intimacy of your proposal, ‘If you want, you can help me take it off later.’

That hunt undoubtedly becomes the fastest you’ve ever completed together.

#mt2021kinktober #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #star wars x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x reader smut #the mandalorian smut

[comfortwriting]

Through Thick and Thin - A.S

Anakin Skywalker x Fem Reader

masterlist, requesting rules, guidelines, taglist

About: When Obi-Wan learns of Anakin's turn to the dark side, he goes to Y/N to try and find him; what he gets instead changes everything and Anakin gets the answers he's been waiting for.

A/N: this is my first time writing in months, please be kind! Need to get back to my flow lol

Word Count: 2057

Warnings: murder, death, blood, mention of parent loss.

"He killed younglings, Y/N!" Obi-Wan stressed, pacing around the room "Tell me where he is, I beg you."

You stared at your husbands Jedi Master, contemplating if you should tell him the truth - betraying your husband and revealing his whereabouts or to lie and protect him. After all, you knew what Obi-Wan was going to do.

You knew that Anakin was capable of taking lives, especially the lives of women and children after he murdered the Tusken Raiders - you weren't afraid of him when he confessed and you certainly didn't shame him for it; you could understand his anger, his hate, his need for revenge.

Anakin's back was facing you, he stared at the wall, hot tears streaming down his face.

"I killed them." he paused, catching his breath "I killed them all. They're dead, every single one of them."

Anakin slowly turned around to face you, his face stained with tears, his eyes glassy and red.

You stared at him, trying not to judge him for what he had done - knowing that if you did, you would be the biggest hypocrite known to man.

"And not just the men," Anakin inched closer to you, shaking his head "but the women and the children too."

You froze.

Women, like you.

Children, like the ones you adored at the Jedi Temple, children you dreamed of having with Anakin.

Part of you died hearing his confession, but you remembered how you felt when you were finally left alone in a room with your fathers killer. You too would've killed his wife and the other women and children in their village. You would wipe them all out.

"They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals." Anakin started to raise his voice, his pearly white teeth shining in the light "I hate them!"

Anakin dumped himself to the floor, bringing his knees to his chest, more tears falling from his eyes; you placed your hand against his face, wiping away his tears with your thumb.

"It's okay to feel angry, it's okay to hate them after what they did." You said softly, casting circles on his cheek with your thumb.

"I'm a Jedi," his eyes searched yours, his hand reaching for yours, holding it tightly "I know I'm better than this."

You sighed, kissing his hand softly "Don't let what you've done define you, Ani."

"How can I come back from this?" He asked in frustration "How can I move forward if Obi-Wan is holding me back!"

"You find a way," you encouraged him "even if it means going against him... and the council."

"You're going to kill him, aren't you?" You asked quietly.

Obi-Wan didn't answer, he swallowed hard and looked at the pale lilac carpet.

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me?"

"Don't say that Master... You're the closest thing I have to a father... I love you. I don't want to cause you pain."

"He has slain younglings, Y/N! I saw his callousness with my own eyes!" Obi-Wan raised his voice, "Anakin has sided with Palpatine! He's the sith lord!"

You started to laugh, waving your hand.

'Of course, Obi-Wan and the council are pinning this on Palpatine, making him the bad guy.' you thought.

"It's funny," you speak up swinging your right leg over your left knee "you and the council painting Palpatine as evil."

The Jedi Master stared at you in horror and couldn't believe the words coming out of your mouth - his heart splitting into tiny fragments, the young girl he raised was defending the chosen one - the young boy who had grown up with bouts of pent up hate and anger, and turned to the dark side.

"Palpatine is the only person other than me who truly cares for Anakin, who never lectures him for his feelings, who never holds him back."

Obi-Wan felt sick.

"I don't know where he is," you lied "even if I did, I'm not telling you."

"Don't make this harder for me than it needs to be," Obi-Wan warned you, remembering the Jedi Code, pushing his memories with you and Anakin aside.

You didn't flinch, instead, you sat back down on the sofa, staring at the beautiful sparkling wedding ring on your finger.

"I don't want to go back," you sighed, dragging your feet through inches of deep, sparkling snow "I've missed being home."

Anakin nervously fidgeted with the ring box in his pocket, practising his words over and over and over, making sure he got them perfect, his body freezing, his hair full of snowflakes.

"I'm so thankful you came here with me, Ani." You smiled, "My dad would've loved you."

Realising that Anakin wasn't following you, you stopped in your tracks and turned around, finding your boyfriend down on one knee.

"Ani-"

"From the day we met, I have never been able to shake you from my mind and heart."  

Your eyes filled with tears and your goggles started to steam up.

"I never got to ask for your father's blessing, but that won't stop me."

You focused on the ring, realising it was the same one that your father always showed you as a child, with his plan to give to you in hopes that you would pass it on to your children.

"Y/N, my love, will you marry me?"

You nodded your head, removing your glove, exposing your warm skin to the freezing air that instantly started to nip at your skin.

"Yes," you smiled, more tears falling from your eyes "I will marry you, Anakin."

"Your father would be ashamed of you, you're becoming the very thing he hated, you're sleeping with the enemy!"

The rage you once felt started to ignite deep inside you as Obi-Wan tried to sour one of the greatest moments of your life.

You stood up, and walked over to him, staring him down.

"You know better than to bring up my father, Obi-Wan."

Anakin tried to catch his breath, stumbling backwards in extreme pain, the sound of your screams ringing in his ears. You were hurt, probably dead with the amount of pain Anakin was experiencing.

His heart started pounding, his ears ringing, feeling sick to his stomach - you couldn't be... could you? who could've done this? why?

"I have these nightmares..." Anakin opened up to you "what I see, happens."

You stroked Anakin's head, your fingertips massaging his scalp, your lips brushing against his neck.

"I had them about my mother before she died, I wasn't strong enough to save her."

You stopped massaging his scalp, and pulled away, looking into his blue eyes - full of tears that pooled up over his waterline.

"You are strong and you get even stronger the more you learn and experience," you paused "I was strong - not strong enough to save my dad, but now I probably would've had a better chance of doing so. We move forward."

Your fiance nodded his head, pursing his lips and kissing you softly, still emotional when he pulled away from the kiss.

"I don't want to dream of you like that- I don't want the nightmares - I can't... I can't lose you..."

You shook your head, cupping Anakin's face in your hands "You won't lose me, Ani."

Anakin didn't know but he would soon find out, killing the last of the separatist leaders on Mustafar, he boarded his ETA-2 Jedi Starfighter and set off in a hurry; desperate to find you.

You were in utter shock.

Your hands trembling, your forehead burning, the room closing in on you yet expanding at the same time and your throat like sandpaper from your constant screaming.

It all happened so fast - Obi-Wan striking for you, your leg being severed off faster than you could realise until you fell down and all you could feel was agonising pain, and the smell of burning flesh filling the room, the blood boiling in your veins.

You sat on the floor, your back propped up against the back of the sofa, dragging yourself across the floor proved difficult since you stopped practising your upper body workouts.

Looking across the room, your eyes landed on Obi-Wan, no longer breathing - how you did it? you didn't know - you managed to take control, more power than you ever had in your life, your fury spitting inside of you begging for release.

Do you feel guilty? Now that you think about it, no.

Obi-Wan attempted to end your life and he would take Anakin's life too.

Bringing the back of your hand up to your forehead, you wiped away the beads of sweat, your chest rising and falling.

Anakin jumped out of his Starfighter, his hood shielding his face, his long strides bringing him closer and closer to you, his eyes no longer a beautiful shade of blue, but like the two suns on Tatooine during sunset.

She can't be. Y/N can't be dead. Not now. Not ever.

Getting closer and closer, Anakin could sense death, pain, and suffering.

The door swung open as Anakin stormed in, searching for you frantically until his eyes landed on your amputated leg in the middle of the room, his face drained of all its colour.

Your screams came back to him, the searing sound of Obi-Wan's lightsaber severing your leg, the loud thud as you fell to the floor and then the walls shaking, everything shaking, your yells, Obi-Wan's voice breaking before his body dropped lifelessly to the floor.

Anakin glanced over to his Jedi Masters lifeless body and stared, his eyes burning holes into Obi-Wans back, wanting nothing more than to revive him just so he could have the pleasure of murdering him for what he had done to you.

You peeked your head out from behind the sofa, "Ani," you winced, "I'm back here."

Anakin rushed to your side, his eyes pouring with tears as he searched your face and body for more injuries; the sight of your wound hurt him deeply.

How could Obi-Wan do this to you? How could anyone do such a thing to the chosen one's wife?

"Are you-are you-"

"Ani," you tried to calm him down breathlessly "just my leg, nothing-nothing else."

Anakin scooped you into his arms as gently as he could, you held onto him for support, moving one of your arms around his neck, your tear-stained face hiding in his chest, his heartbeat thumping against your ear comforting you.

"I thought you were dead," Anakin croaked, carrying you away, his robes hiding you in his arms.

"Obi-Wan came to me, he needed to know where you were so he could kill you," you admitted, "he told me that you killed younglings."

Anakin slowed down, you pulled your head out of his chest and looked into his eyes.

"Did you believe him?" Anakin asked, his tone harsh.

You paused for a moment, slightly afraid that Anakin might drop you.

"I know that you have killed children before," you replied quietly, "he told me that Palpatine is the sith lord... that you are his apprentice-"

"What do you think of Palpatine?" Anakin's eyes rummaged through yours.

She can't turn against me - she won't. I won't let her.

"I think that he's the only other person aside from me who has ever encouraged you to show your emotions, to use them to make you stronger."

Anakin's eyes fixed on your face like glue "what if he is the sith lord, and I have joined him? what would you think of me"

You sighed, closing your eyes, imagining the perfect life with your husband; you and him never in harms way, children of your own growing up without a clue of what it's like to lose a parent, to be a slave.

"I would encourage you to overthrow him, and together you and I can rule the galaxy,"

You opened your eyes, everything coming back to you, your father's death, how it felt to slaughter a whole family.

"make things the way we want them to be."

Anakin gripped onto you tightly, a prideful grin spreading across his face.

"Everyone turned against me but you." He said softly, kissing you.

"What if you hate what I become?" your boyfriend stressed, pacing up and down.

"I could never hate you, Anakin," you walked over to him, linking your arm with his metal one"I'll be with you through thick and thin."

tags: @autobotrosestark

#anakin x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin fanfiction #star wars anakin #anakin imagines #anakin oneshots #obi wan x reader #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan fic #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagines #star wars fanfic

[mypoisonedvine]

Making Ends Meet | dark!Mandalorian x reader

summary: you’re just a simple woman trying to make your way in the universe, with the universe’s oldest profession.  unfortunately for you, a new customer doesn’t plan on going easy on you.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: smut (dub con), kidnapping (?? kinda), prostitution, rough sex, pain kink, lots and lots of degradation, ooc mando being a meanie

please do not read if this content would be triggering or upsetting for you, dark fics aren’t for everyone and it is your responsibility to manage your own content consumption

If you were going to have any hope of making rent this month, you needed to book someone tonight— and not a cheapskate who’d try to stiff you after he’d already stiffed you, no, you needed a big spender, a high roller.  You needed somebody who had extra credits to throw around and wore it on his sleeve.

You needed a guy like the one who had just walked in— with beskar on his sleeve.  That’ll do quite nicely, you thought to yourself as you watched the Mandalorian cross the room to talk to the bartender.  

Seemed like he was here on business, unfortunately, from the way he didn’t even venture a glance at you or any of the other women skulking about; but then again, you couldn’t be entirely sure where he was looking with that big helmet covering his face.  It might not be the easiest sell, but you were determined to get this guy for the night— and, more importantly, his money.

Walking up to the bar with your best sultry saunter, you leaned in beside him and smiled as he turned his head to look at you.  "Hey," you purred.  "Haven't seen you around before.  We don't get a lot of new faces around here… even when they're hidden."

He didn't say anything, which was a little concerning, but his head tilted down a bit as if he was looking at your body, which was a good sign.

“What brings you to Tatooine, hm?  Business…” you trailed off as you ghosted your fingertips over his armor-clad forearm, “or pleasure?”

“Business is my pleasure,” he informed you sternly.

“And pleasure is my business,” you countered with a smirk.  Before you could say anything else, the bartender returned with a sack in his palm that he tossed into the Mandalorian’s hands, something metallic jingling inside.

“For a job well done,” he explained with a crooked, toothy smile, “as promised.”

“Payday, huh?” you noticed, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.  “Never comes often enough, amirite?”

Your quip was met with tense silence as he slipped the bag into a sack at his waist.  He turned to leave, but you reached out for his shoulder and stopped him.  

“Wait,” you requested, desperation starting to taint your tone of voice.  He spun and faced you again, and you tried to keep your body language relaxed and sensual in spite of your stress.  “What are you gonna spend all that on?”

“My ship,” he decided after a quick moment.

“Why not spend it on yourself?  You must be tired after working a long, hard day,” you sighed sympathetically, stepping a little closer.  “Why don’t you stay a bit longer and take a moment to relax?”

It didn’t seem like he knew what to do with that, and you motioned to a wide, cushioned chair nearby.  Amazingly, it worked; he walked to the chair with that swagger of his, the blaster at his hip suddenly so much more obvious with the way it swung with every step.  As soon as he sat down, you put a leg up beside him, straddling him slightly but leaving enough space to (hopefully) have him wanting more.

“You must be getting hot under there,” you smiled, making sure the double entendre was obvious.

“Maybe I am,” he shrugged.

“All this heavy armor... does it get uncomfortable?”

“I’m comfortable,” he denied.

“Good,” you purred before biting down on your lip as you rubbed his chest— or, rather, his chestplate.  “You know, I’ve heard that Mandalorians are even harder underneath the steel.”

He paused a little before he answered.  “Only in a few key places,” he finally replied, his gloved hand reaching to brush over your thigh.  You grinned, knowing you finally had him.

“Why don’t you come to my room and show me?” you suggested.

“I imagine your time isn’t free,” he observed.

“Fifty credits for an hour, or a hundred for the whole night,” you enumerated.

“That’s a little steep,” he noted with a tone of irritation.

“It’s my price,” you shrugged, “take it or leave it.”

“I’ll leave it,” he decided, shoving you back and standing up to leave.

“No, wait,” you blurted out, “eighty for the night.”

“I don’t have all night,” he informed you sternly.  “Twenty for the hour.”

“Twenty?!” you squawked.  “What kind of girl do you take me for?”

He grabbed your wrist tightly, suddenly, and pulled you into him.  “A whore,” he answered with a rough growl, “and apparently not as cheap as you look.”

You swallowed dryly, irritated by his attitude but desperate for the cash you knew he had.  “How often do you come through Mos Eisley?” you asked quietly.

“As rarely as I can manage,” he replied.

“If you pay a hundred now, I’ll be here every time you come in, for as long as you need,” you offered.  “Standing order, permanently.”

It was difficult to negotiate with someone whose face you couldn’t see: you weren’t sure if the silence was him considering it, or just watching you squirm in his grasp for fun.  

“A hundred,” he repeated slowly, “for whatever I want.”

“Whatever you want,” you nodded quickly.

“Whenever I want,” he added.

“Whenever you want.”

He let go of your wrist and you stumbled back, rubbing the sore skin with your other hand.  “Show me to your room,” he requested suddenly.

You led him back behind a few tattered curtains, past the hall and up the stairs to your cramped apartment.  It wasn't much, but the red silk draped everywhere and the incense burning in the corner certainly set the mood for the work you did.  Your door slid shut automatically behind him, and normally this is the part where he’d kiss you or you’d kiss him, but that was sort of impossible in his current state.  With an awkward pause, you waited for him to undress.

“Take off your clothes,” he instructed instead— and it was even more dominant than you expected, but you were happy to oblige as you untied the strip of fabric keeping your flowy tunic together, letting it fall off of your shoulders and onto the floor.  You didn’t have anything else on, just for the sake of simplicity, and he said nothing as he stepped forward until he was just inches away from you.

He quickly disposed of his gloves to touch you with his bare hands; his rough, warm skin over your waist and hips and breasts was a strong contrast to the worn leather, and even moreso to the hard, cold beskar.  His skin was tan, especially considering that it rarely saw the sun, and you let yourself imagine what the rest of him would look like based on that long with the subtle dusting of dark hair that extended from his arms.  Of course, in your mind, he was stunningly gorgeous, because it was more fun for you that way.  The way he spun you around quickly and forced you to bend over the edge of your bed made you realize he wasn’t as interested in your fun, though.

You yelped a little at the unexpected force, and again when he slapped your ass out of nowhere.  

“You’d better make it worth my while, after I paid a hundred credits,” he grunted.

“Of course,” you agreed quickly, looking back to see him slipping to fingers underneath the edge of his helmet.

“Don’t turn around,” he growled.  “Don’t look back.”

“Okay,” you nodded nervously as you whipped your head back to face in front of you, staring diligently at the dark red comforter beneath you, “I— I won’t.”

You heard the rustle of clothing and a sigh of relief— noticeably one not modulated through the helmet speaker.  Unceremoniously, his helmet was tossed down onto the bed beside you, bouncing and rolling a bit before it found purchase on your quilt.

Next must have been his trousers, as you heard his heavily-equipped belt fall to the floor just before the subtle little grunt you’d come to know as the sure sign that a man had freed a throbbing cock from the confines of his trousers.  He roughly kicked your legs apart, grabbing your hips and using them to hold you up as he started to grind his bare cock against your slickened folds.  You could tell by the way his shaft spread your lips that you had no chance of taking him— he was too thick, you couldn't even tell how long he was yet but he was definitely too thick.

He must have realized something similar, because he pushed you forward a bit; you realized he was looking down at your pussy, which made your face burn with embarrassment.

"Get yourself wet for me," he instructed firmly.  

You didn't think you would ever be able to get wet enough to fit him.  "How?" you asked.

"I don't care how, just do it.  You have thirty seconds."

You gasped a bit but shoved your hand between your legs and frantically rubbed your clit— it didn't really feel that good, with the pressure and fear overwhelming your senses instead of pleasure.  And he didn't make it any easier on you by literally counting each second.  You got a bit wetter, sure, and you'd already been turned on from earlier, but it was still not gonna do you much good against the monster he intended on putting inside you at any moment.

"Fifteen," he continued counting, his voice dropping so much deeper all of a sudden.  "Fourteen."

Halfway out of time already and you weren't that much more wet than when you started.  Your mind was racing with thoughts of everything sexy you could manage to conjure— his voice did help, the deep timbre reverberating right up your spine as anxious fear started to blend in with forced arousal.  You tried to focus on the ways that being fucked by a faceless, mysterious stranger was sexy, rather than the ways it was terrifying.

"Ten," he counted, his voice changing as you heard him smile— you weren't sure how you could hear it, but you could.  "There you go, I can see it now."

You whimpered a little, the sound catching in your throat as fingers suddenly teased your entrance, not quite pushing in but threatening to.  As they swirled around your folds, a lewd wet sound filled the air, mixing in with your heavy breathing and his dark chuckle.

"You hear that?" he asked, and you nodded quickly.  "Just a few seconds left, make them count."

Rubbing faster, you felt your hips start to rock of their own volition, similarly to the way your walls were clenching around nothing in search of being filled.  

"Three, two, one," he finished as you felt the thick head of his cock start to push against you.  You dropped your hand, knowing you'd need both to stabilize yourself.  "You want it?" he asked roughly.

"Yes," you answered, your voice coming out weaker than expected.

"Beg for it," he instructed coldly.

"Put your cock in me, please—" was all you could get out before the words stopped in your throat as he suddenly pushed in.  You were barely processing the first inch as he barreled past your resistance to shove the next few in.  It already felt like you would run out of room inside your body before he ran out of cock.

"F-fuck," you hissed, "slow down.  You're too big."  You hoped maybe he'd take pity on you if you phrased it as a compliment.  You were wrong.

"You're a whore," he reminded you, "can't you take it?  It's all you're good for, anyways."

That got you to shut your mouth as he thrust himself completely into you, finding the end of you easily with the head of his cock while your hands clutched the bedsheets for dear life.  You winced but managed to suppress a cry as he started to fuck you, not quite fast yet but so much deeper than your brain could process.  "Ffffuu-uuck," you stammered, the sting starting to fade but the overwhelming pressure never really letting up.

"How's it feel?" he asked, almost sounding like he could moan but holding back.  "Don't lie."

You realized, then, that he didn't want you to fake pleasure like most clients did— he wanted to see your pain, and know he caused it.  He enjoyed hurting you.  You swallowed the lump in your throat and whimpered your honest reply: "Hurts."

"Good."

His balls slapping against your clit only added to the overwhelming sensations you were trying so hard to ignore, pain and pleasure becoming indistinguishable all of a sudden.  You could tell your walls were clamping down on him as pressure built in your gut and threatened to push past the point of no return.  Your moan was so much louder than you expected it to be, broken and guttural and animalistic. 

He pulled your hair roughly, making you yelp.  “That’s right,” he instructed through his teeth, “fuckin’ scream for it.”

“Fuck!” you sobbed loudly.  

He leaned forward and it felt like his body would surround yours, somehow, especially when he reached down to roughly grope one breast and then another.  He never stopped thrusting through it all, even when his head fell exhaustedly between your shoulder blades— it was so odd to be able to feel his forehead and hair on your skin but have no idea what his face looked like at all.

The telltale signs of orgasm were arriving in your body— your thighs quivered, your voice cracked, your walls and clit throbbed with need.  It felt like you could read every detail of his cock inside your silky wet heat, like the ridge of his leaking head was rubbing up against your swollen g-spot with every thrust.  You felt as if being so full of him had forced you to vacate your mind, too, to accommodate his size— as if that were possible.  

Either he sensed your peak approaching as well, or he just had convenient timing.  "Wanna feel you come around it," he grunted.  "Can you come for me?  Or are you completely useless?"

“‘M close,” you warned him as your answer, shame sending a shiver up your spine even though you felt guilty for it.

“Then come,” he ordered, “right fuckin’ now.”

It was odd how that actually did push you over the edge, his brutal thrusts and degrading words creating a perfect storm inside you as the friction became too much to bear.  You sobbed as it wracked through you, arching your back absent-mindedly, clenching your legs together as best you could with his legs in between them.  He didn’t stop fucking you through it, which meant that the sensation built to the point of ‘too much’ extremely quickly as your attempts at begging for mercy were lost to breathless moans.  Overwhelmed, your body collapsed onto the bed limply, your hips only staying up because he held them up, like your weight was nothing to him at all.

"Yeah, just like that,” he taunted, “fuckin' come on my cock, fuck— you're just a dumb slut, huh?  You love getting fucked like the desperate, needy fucktoy you are, is that it?"

"Y-yes," you whined weakly, cheeks burning at the feeling of him using your body— or maybe it was from the head rush caused by the afterglow of your orgasm. 

"You like it when it hurts,” he posited.  “You want me to hurt you."

"Yes— don't stop, please…" you whimpered, quiet but definitely loud enough for him to hear.

“Not gonna stop,” he promised, “‘til you’re full of my come.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, voice sounding hoarse and thin.  It had been a while since you lost your voice because of a session… and since you had walked funny for a few days afterwards.  This one was definitely going to do both.

As his hips started to slam harder and faster into yours, you really hoped it was a sign that he was close; his raspy groans made you sure of it, though.  You could feel his cock swelling and flexing, incredibly, and it made you a little light-headed but it made your overstimulated walls throb around him as well.

With one deep, exhausted growl from the man behind you, a warmth began to spread through you from the inside out.  When he released his grip on your hips, you fell onto the bed with a sigh and a thud.  A hand appeared in your peripheral vision to snatch the helmet off of your bed, and it only took him a few moments to stuff his softening cock back into his trousers and magically be dressed again.  Funny how he looked exactly the same as he had half an hour ago, meanwhile you were confident you looked totally fucked-out and fucked-up.

“You’re a good fuck,” he offered a monotone compliment as he pulled on his gloves, staring down at you as you slipped your robe back on and tried to ignore the warm sticky feeling between your legs.

“You’re… intense,” you replied, chuckling a little.  “Guess I’ll see you around, then.”

He didn’t respond, or leave, but just stood there looking at you for a minute as you stood up and adjusted yourself, trying not to limp noticeably because you figured he didn’t need any more ego.  “‘Whenever I want’ only applies when I’m on this planet,” he observed suddenly, interrupting the silence, “which I try not to be.”

“You can come around as often as you like,” you explained.  You froze when he appeared behind you, reaching his arms out and caging you in against the wall the second you'd turned to face him.

“But wouldn’t it be so much more cost-effective if you were with me all the time?  On my ship?”

You whimpered a little as he leaned in closer, and you felt his gaze on you through the dark visor of his helmet even though you couldn’t see it.  “That… that wasn’t the deal,” you whispered nervously.

“The deal’s changed,” he growled, ignoring your yelps of pain as he manhandled you and pinned you to the wall by your neck before you could even try to fight back.  “Whatever I want, whenever I want,” he growled, “that’s what you said.  I’ll hold you to that.”

The leather gloves creaked softly as he tightened his grip on the sides of your neck, forcing your lips to fall into a useless gasp for air.  Your hands reached out to claw at his chest, a silent plea for release, but he wasn’t having it.  

“Whatever you want,” you barely managed to croak out as your vision started to go dark.  “Please, Mando…”

“Whenever I want?”

“Whenever, please,” you cried, tears stinging your eyes.  He let go, finally, and you crumpled at his feet.  Somehow, you’d managed to sell yourself into slavery— for a measly hundred credits.  This whole thing had begun with you needing to make rent, and it ended with you realizing you wouldn’t return to your apartment again at all.  

He didn't need to shackle or bind you to make you follow him to his ship; his power over you was nauseatingly effortless, but you weren't about to try to run from an unhinged warrior like him.  

You'd always wanted to leave Tatooine and explore the galaxy… this wasn't exactly how you'd imagined doing it, as a Mandalorian's whore, but there were worse fates.  Like being a Mandalorian's target.  And you planned on doing whatever he wanted you to if it meant avoiding that.

#dark!mandalorian #dark!mandalorian smut #dark!din djarin smut #the mandalorian dark fic #dark!din djarin x reader #dark!din djarin x y/n #dark!din djarin x you #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

[clonewarslover55]

Cuddles and soft sex with Old Man Boba(Who’s really only 41)

@peacefulwizardfox​ requested some Old Man Boba cuddles, so I did that and more! 

Notes: This is for everyone who doesn’t hate old man Boba. If you hate his body then get the fuck off my blog :)  Those of you who love his body? Enjoy some fluff and smut 

Also! I am a legends whore so some legends Boba content is in this 

Spoilers for season 2 of the Mandalorian chapter 14 kinda?

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, grumpy Boba being grumpy Boba, teasing, joking around, smut, soft smut, more fluff, Boba is beefy and it’s sexy 

^^^^^^^!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!THIGH JIGGLE!!!!!!!!!!!!^^^^^^^

You laid on Boba’s large naked chest, tracing your fingers delicately along the many scars that covered his dark skin. Your long term lover watched you, his dark brown eyes hypnotizing. “You're beautiful, you know that right?” 

Boba huffed a laugh, “I was eaten up by Sarlacc stomach acid for two days…..I’m getting old and-” You covered his beautiful mouth with your hand. “You’re still the most handsome man in the universe to me. And Boba, Cyar’ika, you’re forty one. You’re not old.” Boba rolled his eyes at you being sappy and sweet. He loved the attention though, but he’d never admit it. 

“You’re going to make my teeth rot out one day.” Boba muttered and you shrugged, “You’re just saying that as an excuse because your old ass-” He slapped your bare ass and you yelped. “I’m kidding!” You laughed at his teasing glare and crawled on top of him fully. You kept laughing, Boba didn’t laugh but a small smile pulled at your lips. You knew it was hard for him to hold back a dumb grin and some chuckles. 

Once Boba had hit forty you began making old man jokes here and there. You’re lucky you’re not human leather by now. Boba hated the jokes, but they were pretty funny. 

He wrapped his thick arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. You buried your face in his neck, breathing in his wonderful scent. You both smelled of sex and one another, and it was addicting. You two had been in bed all day, since Slave I was on autopilot to your next destination. It was rare having a lazy day with “Mr. Works himself to death.”

Boba was always grumpy, even in bed when you two are cuddling. It’s just his personality, so it was easy to poke at the bear.  You began kissing his neck, which was very very sensitive. Boba grunted and batted at you, clearly half asleep. You narrowed your eyes and kept teasing his neck with your lips and tongue. Boba could only huff and squeeze your ass as a weak defense. 

 You two had been sleeping and having sex all day, so he clearly didn’t mind. His bare cock sure didn’t mind either. Boba opened his eyes when you teasingly grinded your hips down against his, a growl ripping from his throat. You smirked and kissed him deeply, his lips fitting perfectly with yours. His hard cock was pressed against you, but not where Boba wanted it.  

Boba gave you a fake irritated look when you pulled away, a smirk pulling at your lips. You’re lucky Boba was in a good mood, so he was letting you tease. If he wasn’t? You’d be under him and being rutted into like a bitch in heat. 

You dragged your lips, tongue and teeth along his scarred throat. Boba exposed more of his throat, clenching his jaw when your teeth nipped his Adam's apple. Your mouth moved to his collar bones, then to his chest. You felt like worshipping your sexy bounty hunter lover, so you’d do exactly that. 

His beautiful body was scarred and worn from the stressful life of a bounty hunter, Sarlacc acid, and the cruel twin Tatooine suns. It only made him even sexier to you, his scars telling a million stories. With age Boba has gotten thicker, but he kept it mostly muscle. He wasn’t as toned as he used to be, but you didn’t care. There was just more of him to love, to kiss. His stomach and chest have gotten softer, so he was even more comfortable to lay on now. 

Boba laid his head back, enjoying your soft warm lips and tongue tracing his sensitive scars. A growl tore from his thick chest when you gently nipped one of his nipples. They were very sensitive for a man who’s worn a chest plate all of his life. Before you could move to his softening stomach he grabbed you and yanked you back to his face. You made an offended noise as he moved you. 

“Boba I was doing something!! I can’t ever body worship you?” Boba snorted sarcastically, “You just enjoy the taste of my cock.” You got in his face, your nose brushing his, “Perhaps.” You sneered, your lips hardly brushing his.  He smiled, but quickly hid it by yanking you into a passionate kiss. Fuck he loved you and your smart mouth. 

Boba never lost the fire that burned within him, and you could always tell by the heat behind his lips. You nearly screamed in surprise when he flipped you over, pinning you down. “I wanted to be on top.” You huffed like a child, Boba just gave you a bemused look.  

“Then don’t be slow.” He smirked when you glared at him. Boba, of course, got payback when he gently nipped one of your nipples. You moaned, the glare not leaving your face. “Bastard.” He chuckled at your word, his lips connecting with yours once again.

You and boba had been together for a while now, so he knew your body perfectly. He spread your things apart with his calloused hands, letting you know to throw your legs around his thick waist. His hot lips never detached from yours as he settled himself comfortably between your legs. His lips were so blinding that you hardly even noticed the change in position until he grinded his cock against your lips teasingly. 

His taste was so addicting and erotic that you whined when he pulled away so you two could breathe. He smirked and moved his mouth to your neck, making sure to mark you up even more than he did earlier. 

You moaned as his calloused hands began to play with your nipples, hardening them into peaks quickly. He moved his right hand away to trace a thick calloused finger along your slick folds. Boba smirked, “You’re so easy.” He nearly purred, causing you to blush. “You’re just sexy and very good at this.” You whispered, nipping his ear softly. Boba hummed, not disagreeing. 

Boba kissed you again, his tongue wrestling with yours. You moaned into his mouth as he rubbed the head of his cock against your soaked entrance. You gripped his muscular shoulders, your nails ripping open the scratches from earlier. Boba groaned, loving the slight sting. Boba was a little self conscious about his scars, but he loves the ones you give him. 

He buried his face into your neck when he pushed into you, his large cock filling you perfectly. Boba always filled you to the brim, his cock hitting every deep spot inside of you. You cried out his name, gripping his muscular body tightly. The sensation of him caused your walls to grip him tightly, making it hard for Boba to control himself 

“Fuck you’re always so tight.” He growled out the words, his voice gruff from pleasure. You went to snark back a reply about him having a big cock. Instead, Boba shifted his hips slightly and your train of thought derailed. He smirked at your gasping reaction, he knew exactly where your special spots were. He was cocky about it too. 

Boba began at a slow rhythm, taking his sweet time. Your body moved perfectly with his, your cunt squeezing around his shaft like a vice. Boba wasn’t the most vocal man, but you knew how to draw out those sweet erodic noises from him. 

You dragged your nails along his scalp to the back of his neck, the sensitive skin there always fun to tease. Boba shivered, his cock twitching deep inside of you. Boba picked up his pace, his thrusts now deeper. He moaned loudly at your teasing touches, which only made your walls quiver around him. 

The sensation of his lips on your neck, along with one of his hands playing with your nipples was enough to drive you mad alone. You had already cum a few times today, so you were incredibly sensitive. 

Boba panted in your ear, his hot breath causing you to shiver. “That’s it baby.” He moaned the words out, his pace picking up. The small bedroom of Slave I was filled with absurd sounds of skin against skin and of your wet cunt. Boba nipped your ear, his scarred body pressed flush against yours. “That’s my good girl, so close for me.” 

You whined at his heated words, your walls squeezing him even tighter. You knew not to cum before Boba said so, but he made it really hard for you. “Boba!” You dug your nails even deeper into his skin as he thrusted into your hot core faster. 

“Boba please.” You threw your head back, the noises combined with the sensations driving you wild. You knew he loved it when you begged, so you begged. “Boba baby!” You cried, “Please please let me cum!!” Boba’s cock twitched at your words, a loud moan leaving his lips. 

“You’re such a good girl for me.” He gave a few more rough thrusts, his orgasm just as close as yours. “Cum with me.” He snarled out the words, which made you cum hard. His warm seed filled you to the brim as you screamed out his name like a prayer. 

You saw spots when you came, your throat already sore from your screams of pleasure. Boba rode out his orgasm with yours, his hips bucking softly. Once he was finished he pulled out, which made you whine at the loss. 

Boba rolled onto his back, pulling you back onto his chest. You nuzzled your face between his large pectorals, your body feeling like jello. You were half asleep, enjoying Boba’s warmth and body. 

“Cyar’ika.” He muttered, stirring your cock drunk mind. You blinked at him, a chuckle leaving his lips at your glare. “We should probably shower and prepare for-” You cut him off with a tight hug, “mo.” You mumbled, your words muffled by his large chest. 

Boba sighed and stroked your hair, “Come on-” You hugged him tighter and he grunted. “You have to feel gross.” You snorted loudly at him, your face not moving from his chest. Boba sighed and laid his head back. 

“You’re lucky I love you.” He continued to stroke your hair, “Five more minutes and that's it.” You pressed a kiss between his pectorals. Boba rolled his eyes at your muffled, “M...’love you too.” 

After five minutes you were both sound asleep in one another's arms, forgetting completely about the job he had to get done soon. Your cuddles were more important to him though, but he’d never admit that.

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#Old Man Boba #boba fett #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #the mandalorian spoilers