#Jewel of Naboo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamlandcreations · 9 months

Text

Beauty and the Beast

Darth Maul x Queen of Naboo!Reader

Summary: Maul is tasked to keep you in line while his master's plan comes together on Coruscant...

Warnings: angst, enemies to lovers (it doesn't really get to the lovers part but that's where this is going); mentions of child kidnapping, of murder and maybe other war crimes, of blackmail/threats (from canon), not proofread at all, a mess of POVs, long fic?, idk I went a little crazy with this

inspired by @alexversenaberrie's edits for @maulweek

~ 3K words

You called him a beast the first time you've seen what he is capable of. You never would have thought that he takes it to heart and tries to hide from you through the weeks when he acts as your guard while keeping you imprisoned in your own palace.

Maul wasn't much of a talker, so to say he was speechless when he saw you for the first time would probably not justify the feelings that still hold him captive from that moment - along with the pain and rage that your words caused him, of course - but he had no better way to describe the experience, as he was never taught to indulge in anything like this. Quite the opposite actually.

He was holding onto those lessons, trying to fuel his rage with the pain he felt when he realised he wanted you and you would never feel the same. He was trying to hate you, telling himself that you are just a spoiled princess who is nothing but a pawn in his master's plans.

His resolve would crumble within seconds of meeting you each day. The way you proudly held on and denied each offer of an easy way out, readily providing a defiant and sometimes mocking answer to everything your weak-minded enemies said. They thought they could break you but Maul knew better, he felt your strength and the underlining growing rage that might just burn them all in the end.

The Queen of Naboo fascinated him beyond words, not just with her beauty that he was fortunate to witness without all the paint you hide behind these days, but everything else he learned about you in this short time. Even the fact that you are strong enough to keep him out of your mind.

You felt his eyes on you all the time, he never said anything but most of the time you could tell what he was thinking. For how little he was showing of his face, it was really telling. Especially his eyes, that you were unfortunately too mesmerised by to look away from on the rare occasion he was actually facing you and not staring out of the window or looking menacingly at your captors.

But he was also your captor, you had to remind yourself way too often. Your mind regularly took you in the direction of wondering about his past. Because you needed to understand him in order to defeat him. Or at least that's what you've been telling yourself.

One afternoon he decided to barge into your bedchamber and caught you hacking into the Trade Federation's network to communicate with your trusted handmaidens, one of which took your place and your senator who escaped with the Jedi the Sith tried to kill. He smashed the consol with his mind and grabbed you by your throat, finding you without your armour of paint and jewels.

For a moment Maul thought the tears, fear and pain he saw were a result of his attack but the message you just listened to was still on and the display kept glitching but he understood the point of the news you received. The Senate abandoned you.

He saw how your misery turned into scorching anger that any Sith could envy and he couldn't help but stare admiringly. Then he let you go, curious as to what you would do. He did not expect you to have a weapon in your sleeve though.

It took him by surprise, not just the dagger but the attack too. You were nowhere near as good as him but you were trained well to use everything to your advantage and if he was an ordinary man, you might have managed to seriously hurt him too.

The first stab grazed his cheek, drawing a faint line of blood but he didn't even flinch and that somehow made you angrier, if that was possible. He let you surrender to your rage, not even trying to stop your attacks, just leaning away and stepping backwards a few times until he got you next to a pillar and grabbed your hand, hitting it against the stone until you dropped the blade.

He caught you, turning you around and pulling you to him, trapping you in his arms as you fell to the floor then he just let you scream with helpless rage while you still struggled against him. But after a while you became too exhausted, sagging in his hold completely, the back of your head hitting his shoulder.

He let you go after savouring your closeness for a stolen moment. After you pulled away, turning around, positioning yourself to face him while you sat against the pillar he carefully moved too, not to scare or agitate you. Resting his elbow on his bent knee, he subtly leaned a little closer, studying you while you collected yourself.

He didn't say anything as you calmed down and wiped your tears with your sleeve. Then you were looking at him, trying to figure out why he let you off so easily and you wanted to ask so many other things but you realised you didn't even know what to call him, so you asked first, "What is your name?"

"Maul," he answered before he could think this through and didn't even take your acknowledging hmm as an insult as he might with anyone else. And before you could start to interrogate him, he let his curiosity known.

"What is yours?" Your frown told him what would be your answer, so he quickly clarified. "The real one."

Maul didn't expect to get a weak smile at that and even though it was gone before he could blink, he knew it was there and the image would surely come back to plague him later.

"Can't you read my mind and find out?" You arched a brow challengingly, almost playfully and he felt a tug in his hearts at that. Before you continued and managed to hit a sensitive topic. "I thought Jedi could make people do things..."

"I am not a Jedi!" he growled back at you, cutting off your taunting.

"Clearly," you responded with only a little less hint of disdain.

He narrowed his eyes, apparently deeply insulted by the comparison. "The force is not the privilege of the Jedi, no matter how highly they put themselves above others."

"Is that why you hate them?"

"They wiped out my kind." You frowned at that.

"You are a Zabrak, aren't you? Your kind lives on Iridonia and Dathomir, I..."

He interrupted again, obviously not wanting to discuss that topic either but his confused expression betrayed the reason for his sudden change of topic. "The Jedi will not help you, nor will the Senate. Sign the treaty and end the suffering of your people."

Now that you were starting to understand him, you knew how to get what you wanted. In his case, with a little bit more antagonizing while satisfying your curiosity. "You could force me to sign it. Why didn't you?"

He stood up, turning his back on you, going to take his usual place in your presence, staring out of the window. "Only the weak are easy to control."

"You almost killed two Jedi, I don't suppose that is an easy task either."

He turned back to you, reaching up and slowly taking off his hood, daring you to look away. So you didn't. You kept looking at him, taking in his features with little to no emotion on your own face.

"What? You don't find this beast so hideous anymore now that you have no other hope?"

Now that, got him a reaction. You looked at him in utter confusion before you understood what he was referring to.

"I did not call you a beast because of the way you look but for how you acted." Although you truly meant it, he took the hint of laughter in your voice in the wrong way.

Quickly making the distance between you, he grabbed you by your throat once more. "You think I am so easily fooled?"

It was a little harder to breathe from the pressure but he wasn't really hurting you so you took a chance and went back to the question he dodged twice now. "If you don't believe me, why don't you look for yourself? See what I think about you."

You could see how he was struggling to hold back something but he gave up on it after a long moment of silent contemplation. But he decided to show you instead of simply telling.

You felt something trying to push into your consciousness, and despite it being almost gentle, something in you snapped and shouted inwardly 'no!' as you somehow pushed it away like it burned you. Your vision darkened for a second, and you could have blamed it on that or the following dizzyness that you saw a hint of a smile on his usually stern face but his eyes were still telling, speaking of feelings you did not want to dig deeper into.

But then he confirmed his admiration for you as he explained with a gentle tone, "You are strong. To break down your walls would mean breaking you."

With his answer, his hold on you loosened too and if you didn't know better you would have sworn you felt him caress your chin as he let you go. He moved to step back and give you some space but you surprised him again.

"Try it again."

It was almost cute how he tilted his head to the side and regarded you with utter astonishment. Then he did as you asked.

Your little experiment went a bit sideways though, because while you managed to let him in, somehow you also caught a memory he obviously didn't mean to project to your mind. And he did not take your thoughts well to that painful memory of one of the first lessons he remembered.

"I am not broken," he growled, oversimplifying what you thought.

"Yes, you are." You boldly approached him, explaining your conclusions with a gentle tone. "The Jedi take very young children to train them. You were taken too. Otherwise, you would know more about your origin, if it had been your choice to leave."

He didn't answer and even refused to look at you but you were not afraid anymore. You didn't have much to lose anyway.

"You have a master, don't you?" Still no answer. "He's the one who broke you. And he will order you to break me too."

He knew you were right but it would mean that all of his suffering was for nothing, because he knew couldn't do it. He couldn"t hurt you and he will lose everything. So he did what he was taught and leaned on his anger, lashing out at you to avoid facing the truth.

"What do you know of any of that, Your Highness? Living in your fancy little palace, surrounded by servants and riches must have been a terrible fate."

The fury reflected in his glowing eyes might have scared you a few days ago, but not anymore. You did not even return his anger, answering in a calm and confident tone that enchanted him.

"I was elected to be Queen for the first time when I was barely fourteen. While I can't even imagine what you went through, I do have an idea about the weight of expectations put on you when you are way too young to bare them."

You jumped a little as he finally silenced the still crackling comms and left without a word.

The next morning your predictions came true. His master contacted them.

"Let's end this once and for all. Make her sign it." The hooded figure ordered him and for the first time in years, he did not follow the instruction immediately.

"If I force her mind open, it will kill her."

Maul knew it was no use to try to subtly argue and his master confirmed that without delay. "She only has to live long enough to sign the treaty."

"I understand, my master." And for the first time, since he can remember, he truly did. He knew what he had to do.

Maul, as always, kept his eyes on you from the moment you were led into the throne room in your usually complicated attire. You didn't meet his gaze though, probably preparing for the worse.

The droids surrounded you, with the two Neimoidians on Maul's right. They asked for your cooperation one more time. You refused.

Maul reached out and took hold of you with the force, finally making you look at him as he held your body immobile. He grabbed his lightsaber and ignited one of the blades, making his supposed allies nervously fidgety next to him.

Your gaze flickered to the blade too before you met his again with confusion. Then you felt it. The nudge against your mind, it was deceptively gentle but it made you gasp and your eyes widen and that was enough to fool your enemies for now.

Maul realised you didn't trust him, so he had to change his plans if he didn't want to risk you getting hurt. So his eyes flickered in the direction of the throne where he knew the guns were still hidden and he applied a little more force into his hold to let you know he will push you that way.

The four droideka were firing before their masters even realised what was going on. He dodged their shots whit his lightsaber, cutting down the Viceroy with the same swing. You quickly grabbed the weapon, using the throne as a cover and fired on the other droids and witnessed with awe as Maul sent two of the shielded droid out the large window, crushed another with a big piece of stone he pulled from the floor and simply crushed the last one with the force.

Despite the loud fight, you did not hear any reinforcements approaching so when Maul dragged the other Neimoidian from his hiding place you approached them and to your new friend's amusement didn't hesitate to knock the other male out with one punch.

Maul felt his hearts skip a beat or two as you smiled at him with gratitude. He felt himself to be in some kind of trance as he deactivated his lightsaber and stepped closer to you.

He wanted to reach out and touch you but halted as he realised that he would smear the paint he liked to refer to as your armour. You caught the hint of the smile he was trying to hide but before you could ask, he reminded you that your fight was not done yet.

The two of you went to the chamber that was used as a prison, freeing the pilots and guards and locking in the Neimoidian.

It was easy from then on, with the droid control ship gone so was the invading army.

Somewhere during the meeting between the remaining council members, Maul wandered away and you later found him lounging on your throne. You stifled a laugh and quickly stopped your guards from shooting at him, dismissing them stating that, "I will be perfectly safe."

When you look at him, he silently taunts you and you could almost hear the "Why are you so sure that you are perfectly safe with me." And you can't help but smile at that, looking at him with a similar expression that says "Comfortable?"

Then he stands before you in a blink of an eye, reaching out again but stopping this time as well. Only for you to take his hands, stepping a little closer.

Your smile fades as you realise. "You want to leave."

He shakes his head, looking away. "I defied my master, he will not forget that."

"So you just plan to be on the run for the rest of your life?"

Your anger takes him by surprise, he expected you to be glad that you don't have to deal with the political headache that his presence would bring. And he certainly not expected you to be ready to fight for him.

"You can stay here. If you want." The addition to the offer was not lost on him. So much has changed in such a little time span, he was free to choose what to do, and he wasn't sure how to handle this.

Taking his silence as a sign that he was thinking about it you started to think through the possibilities. "I am certain you can handle any assassin he would send and I doubt your mysterious master would come here personally..."

Your tone asked for confirmation but he just quietly huffed at the way you said 'mysterious' as one would call someone a coward or something equally insulting.

"The Jedi and the Senate will want my head."

He thought that was it, but again, it seems he underestimated your stubbornness. "Well, fuck the Jedi and fuck the Senate. They did not save us. You did."

"I also helped your enemies."

You sighed and let go of his hands to cup his cheeks like he wished to do with you countless times. And he felt his throat tighten not just at that gesture but because of what you said next. "Was that something you chose to do?"

He took a deep breath and looked down again, unable to meet your eyes. Unable to handle your faith in him. But you did not let him go that easy.

"Stay with me," you asked in an almost whisper, feeling just how fragile was this moment.

When he looked at you again he placed his hands on yours and you felt the now familiar push that meant he was trying to read your thoughts. You let him but you also said them out loud.

"Stay." You repeated. "I will protect you and you will keep me safe."

He smiled at that. It was little more than a hint of amusement but it reached his eyes and sight filled you with warmth.

You were so preoccupied with the sight that you did not realise he went a little deeper, chasing that emotion he felt from the moment you met but could never put it into words. He understood that you knew what it was but weren't ready to consciously acknowledge it yet, he would have to ask you later. Until then he might just get more comfortable with his other feelings and newfound freedom, he could live with this annoying little tug on his hearts and what one might call a soul for a little while. Only if it didn't get more bothersome every time you smile at him. Like now, when he returns your promise with a single word. "I'll stay."

#darth maul #maul #darth maul x reader #maul x reader #darth maul x you #maul x you #maul week #maulweek2023 #my stuff #my fics

277 notes · View notes

hellowoolf · 3 months

Text

electra heart

pairing: din jarin x prostitute fem!reader

summary: with the softness of your body you have bought your piece of luxury, clawed your way to opulence, and wait now on the lustful whims of the rich and powerful. what havoc is wreaked when the only client you've ever loved, your mandalorian, finds you in the golden smoke of a gala on canto bight?

warnings: mention of alcohol, prostitution, reader is literally a prostitute, reader goes by alias "edie", din calls her “edee”, angst, quick mention of killing (bounty hunting), porn with plot, SMUT, soft!dom din, unprotected piv, beskar humping (sue me), tiiiny bit of degradation if you squint your eyes and pat your head and rub your tummy, little bit of begging, fucking in a literal suit of armor, creampie (if i left out any, let me know <3)

word count: 4.7k

authors note: first din fic alert !!! hand on heart i meant to keep this light hearted. and that’s what counts…right ??!!!!

woolfie’s masterlist

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

you had been small, once. a young thing born into the streets of tatooine, conjured by them, slipping dirty like a curse through the city with a beggar's cup. in the day, the sand heated to glass and fire, and you trailed in the shadowed coattails of men the passers by could think your father, but with nightfall came the slow, syrupy suck of warmth from land, and even pressed up against building corners and doorways you shivered in the starlight. and what a cruel thing it was to know—to be, even then, so certain of your own poorness. you stuck little fingers through the holes of your clothes to cork the heat of your skin, and reconciled, in the meanwhile, with your birth as a nomad with no place to journey.

oh, but you loved the ships. with festivals held on the plains came warships and single-seat fighters, great discs of silver settling the baking sand, and you circled the throngs of people to let the gleam of sunlit metal blind you, if only for a moment. with scrap metal and a child’s palms you laid your plans there in the tatooine sand, to seek out whatever precious lavishness was left out there for you. beads of sweat jeweling down your wrists you thought yes, you were fit for that sort of life.

it became clear to you, when you came of age, that your body was your only currency for purchasing such plans. kicking stones while you wound through the cityscape, you supposed the home you could make in a brothel, and the money, too, made for an even exchange, and besides, you’d absorbed worse than man. you tap a manicured nail down your glass and hum with the bellish chime. where had all those girls gone? where were they now? you wonder if they’ve caught wind of you from here, if your perfume has traveled that far. you hope so.

“my edie, how are you honey?”

kel talbot is even blonder than you remember him. with his chest to your back in the sprawling porcelain of his bathtub he’d admitted, along the skin of your shoulder, that it wasn’t real, the color. he dyed it when he went home to naboo, he said. still damp and soapy he’d tipped you an extra 5,000 credits, for your discretion and your loveliness.

“i’m well, kelly. it’s always so wonderful to see you,” you lilt back to him. and because you can’t help yourself, so prone to indulgence now, you add, “have you been off home? i haven’t seen much of you here.”

he’s lovely, really, and delighted that you would ask. “as a matter of fact, i have. my mother’s been remarried a sixth time, if you can believe it. a great big ceremony and all, and i really couldn’t miss it.”

you smooth your free hand down the lapel of his jacket, black silk gleaming between the pillars of your fingers as you drag them. you wouldn’t mind him, for the night. “i really miss you so much when you’re gone.”

he steps closer, flattered little smile, and you look up at him through your lashes. “don’t stroke my ego, edie, it’s unbecoming,” he whispers, so thoroughly pleased with your attention on him, and you tug on the bunch of his coat in your palm.

“do you want me to stroke something else for you, kelly?”

he lets out a shuddered breath across your face. heir to an agricultural fortune on naboo, he is all tradition, brought up on pomp and circumstance and a set of shoulders shaped for the head of a long dining table. your innuendos fall heavy on him, always. he doubles over with them, sinks into you to realign himself upright. edie, edie, someone called you edee once, it means jaws, teeth, he’d told you. when it came time to shed your first name, your real name, it’d come naturally. edie, edie. kel is ripe for biting now.

“i–i have somewhere to be, honey, i can’t.” you pout at him a little. he tips generously. “don’t look at me like that.”

you set him back by your hold on his suit and he brushes himself with his palms, dusting the fabric from whatever coital indecency you’ve smeared on him.

“i’ll let you know when i’m in town again, okay?” and he offers it like a favor, and you suppose he hopes it to be one, so you nod with a gentle sigh.

“go enjoy your night, kelly. i’ll be here if you change your mind,” you promise, and with a tender smile his platinum hair filters back through the ballroom.

if you’re honest, you don’t really know the purpose of this event to begin with. canto bight shines bloated with galas and gamblers, and you dance, ephemeral, through the lot of them in search of clientele. scanning the dancing gold and satin of this crowd, collected on the bottom floor of the hotel you work from, you find mostly elderly men, married and elderly. you certainly aren’t above servicing either, though you went out tonight for the delights of it more than anything else. draping yourself in the inordinately expensive wrappings gifted by your previous clients, arms and collarbones dripping over with fine jewelry and precious gems, you enjoy the ritual of it, now. you enjoy the rest of it, too, with the right sort of client. you drag a red gemstone, set in gold, to and fro along its chain, your first little opulence left with the credits on the windowsill. edee, edee. a passing, devastating thought: like the girls from that first whore house you hope he smells you, hope through the filter of his helmet he’s struck with the scent like a sharp ache that sweetens in the middle. and—

you should’ve missed it, really. an inconsequential glimmer in the face of all the light you’ve gulped down these past years, but still you seem to find it, the little silver spotlight convexing through the curve of your glass. it points right on you, the beam, and you tilt the glass back and forth to watch the light twitch along your sternum. your body tenses with the stretch of a memory, of you in the sand on your back with the sterling starships jumping into hyperspace above you. but surely there’s no ship here, you reason, and when you look up, he’s right there. they all wear the same getup, creed driven and plated, but you are certain it’s him. with a cock of his hip and a shoulder leaned up against the wall you are certain, so certain, and he is right fucking there. it’s all coming back to you now, his beskar in the rotting wood of your doorway, little words in mando’a, your name, the first one, in his mouth. your mandalorian.

gliding through the dancing bodies of the ballroom—they part for you, now—you shiver with the breeze of your dress, a great sweeping curtain of red silk. you don’t remember, really, when he stopped coming to see you, only that you were wholly and inappropriately devastated. you missed the stick of him between your thighs, the way he loved you. you were so sure he did, back then, and you find that still, as this diamond sea of people carves a path for you to him, you are still sure. you can feel your own wetness collecting at your seam; you cannot unlearn this want for him.

he doesn’t notice you until you’re inches from his side, and still he won’t turn his head. from his peripheral you are unrecognizable, you suspect.

“which one?”

and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him move the way he does as your voice echoes behind his visor. it’s a startled jump, a straightening, a tip of his helmet to the side. you think he’s frightened, at first, a heavy terror that collects through the tendons of his hands, but the fear leaves easy, sugars into wonderment. he says your name, arced in question and through the rasp of his modulator.

you shake your head, look out at the ballroom. “i don’t use that name anymore.”

“i–you…” he shakes his head, knocks something loose, “...what are you doing here?”

you snort. “i could ask you the same thing.”

“i have someone i’m looking for.” and it should be ominous—i have someone to kill here—but his voice is still soft, airy with the sight of you. you turn back to him and nod to the crowd.

“yes, i ask again, which one?”

“you know i can’t tell you that.” and he says it like a memory, like the sweet juice of nostalgia on his lips, he says it like i remember you.

you shrug. “i hoped maybe the rules had changed.”

“mm,” he hums, “century old creeds don’t seem to, i’m afraid.”

you giggle with the youth he brings you back to. it’s so easy, falling back here with him. the tilt of his helmet leans to his other shoulder, dark visor tipping down your dress, and your skin fizzles.

“what’s brought you here, then?”

you mirror the angle of his neck. you know, you know. he grunts around something thick in his throat, your name, the first one, you think. he remembers what you said.

“what do i call you? now?”

the delight that twists through you is a sacred one. “edie.”

this does him in. his head tips back against the wall behind him, steadying breath filtering out. “edee?”

“not quite. e-d-i-e.” he lifts, with what seems a great effort, his head back up to look at you. you continue, softer, “but almost.”

and because you know your mandalorian, you see in the shift of his boots on the ground that he’s as ecstatic as his metal plating will allow. his hands twitch, and you want them to touch you, need him to touch you.

“come dance with me, mando.”

he does his best to hesitate, really, but then you’re out among the swaying people, one gloved hand at your back and the other clasped between your fingers, closer now than you’ve been since he last came inside you some years ago in whorish darkness. you squeeze him thinking of it, the stick and the smell, and he presses you further against the gleam of his chest, yes, i remember, i remember. it’s only here, molded around him, that you feel how much bigger he is, the broad width of his shoulders cemented out past the lines of him you used to tend to.

“you look…sort of different.”

“is that so?”

maker, you love the sound of him like this, so close in, so insistent on whispering, so incapable of doing so. “mhm.”

“doesn’t hold a candle to the changes you’ve made, cyar’ika.”

“mm,” you hum, “you know, it’s funny, i feel much of the same.”

he bunches his hand a moment in the silk of your dress. “the glamor hasn’t pulled you under?”

your laugh reverberates against his chestplate. “oh no, i’m sure it has. i just mean i’ve always liked shiny things.”

he groans, quiet and tight. “and why’s that? you like your reflection in them?”

he unlatches you from his chest to spin you around before fastening you back to him, and your scoff whips an arched path around you. “please, the vain one between us has always been you, mando.”

he lowers his head, great secret on his lips. “i haven’t shown my face in decades, edee.”

you can hear his tongue on the word, and you know he hasn’t said your new name, similar as it may sound. the lapping scoop of mando’a washes you over again with the memories of him. and laughing, again you are laughing. you love this bit. “yes, i do remember that part. though i find it awfully excessive that you prance about the galaxy in this welded jewel of a thing.” you knock against the beskar with a knuckle.

“welded jewel. you’ve gotten metaphorical while i’ve been gone.”

“this crowd enjoys it.”

he glances over and around your shoulder. “and you enjoy them?...this crowd?”

you suck on your front teeth to think on it. “you know, most of them don’t ask for it. not all of it, anyway. it’s mainly a lot of talking, now.” and it’s true. even above the lust, this powerful lot is lonely, irrevocably lonely. he nods, and as your heart hammers and wails you tilt your head up to his helmet to whisper against his visor, “you never wanted to talk, did you mando?”

the band of his arm around your back constricts again, a gruff admission, “no, i didn’t.”

he never did take anyone else in that little brothel, it was only ever you. the other girls liked to watch him pass by through the hallway, luster of his armor glinting in the low light, but he walked a tight line to your door, knocked twice, soft as anything. even in that wooden box, a bed and a window and an empty dresser, you remember the metal of him grating at the joins as he tried to make you feel something. you remember, too, that so green, so newly wrung out as you were, your limbs went limp before his credits ran dry, but he defected to your will, watched your body and worshiped at its altar. when your spine loosened and your hips unwound, still with time paid for, he stepped back into the sanded stench of tatooine, hand-cupped pile of credits on the windowsill. yes, the windowsill and the i’ll come back for you and the creak of the floorboards, you remember it so well.

“how much do you charge these days?”

you’re tightening your thighs together as you sway with him. “don’t patronize me.”

“i’m not.”

a ribbon of air releases from your nose, be steady. “20,000 credits.”

and he doesn’t flinch, only lets the hand around your back slip along the gloss of your dress, drawing a line above your ass with his thumb, the line he won’t cross without purchase. “i’d pay it.”

you can’t help this now. “will you?”

whatever mark he’s come to kill tonight is slipping through his fingers, but you fill that space just fine. his helmet tilts, and you feel a leather paw come up to retrieve that little red necklace from the hollow of your collarbone. the pad of his glove passes over the gem once, twice, body tightening and buzzing in metal. “this is mine,” he chokes.

yes, it is. you nod. and he’s decided, it seems. with a modulated groan and let’s go in your ear, he’s shepherding you from the ballroom, hand tight at your waist as you find your way to the elevator. and what with the ceremony of your mandalorian, the tediousness of his armor coming off, you fill the elevator shaft with the smell of your drooling pussy and the air thickens with the buzzing glow of you both together again, but you do not move. the tickle of his eyes through tempered glass rubs behind your ears, still a killer, always a killer, you think, just as you are forever what you have always been. the two of you, frozen in blood and sex, the only warmth you’ve ever known. this reality pulls behind your tongue and you gag on it.

ding. the doors slide open.

you press a thumb to the screen on your doorknob and your mandalorian crowds up behind you, lets you feel the cool touch of his body, the heat that peeks out at the corners. with thick fingers squeezing at your waist and the hard curve of his helmet at your hairline, your knees buckle with the thought that you might have loved him, too, perhaps fatally, but as the lock clicks open and he pulls you inside you suppose it doesn’t matter much now.

you’ve worked this room for nearly a year. a window expands from one wall to the other, beams the morning light and warms the bed sheets, and in the drab of afternoon, twinkle of the city just barely cresting over the sunshine, you watch the people below. drunkards and lovers and princes, you scratch their heads with the cliff of your nail, nose against the glass and breath fogging there, drawing up their mythology and smudging it with the skin of your palm. now, though, with the constructed starlight of clubs and casinos shouldering its way through the night’s darkness, the room bathes in polluted light and the faint sound of wealthy indulgence. there is no windowsill for your mandalorian to balance his payment.

“come here, edee.”

he’s sat himself on the edge of the bed, hand running up and down the metal expanse of his thigh. you stalk your way to him, ruck the hem of your dress up passed your knees to straddle his leg, and slowly, so slowly, through honey and slick and years of parted wanting, he brings his hands to your sides. you splay your fingers on his helmet.

“been a long time, mandalorian.”

he hums in agreement, tips of his thumbs just grazing the underside of your breasts over the silk of your dress before running down again, relearning the ends of you. “my cyar’ika,” he whispers.

your cunt clenches, sobs with his sounds and the pressure of his thigh. breath shuddered and indignant you drag your pussy along the plate of armor. throat tight with a whine you ask him, “how do you like it now, cyare?”

his body takes to the slice of mando’a in your mouth like water to sand, something dark and heavy, and his hips tilt up to you as you undulate your cunt along him again. the coil of you both is raveling taut and knotting at the edges, perhaps permanently now, twisting back into the shapes you used to make together. and it was always this way between you, this dancing walk to madness; with the head of his cock he fucked a shard of beskar into you, you think, that first time, and in every meeting since he’s rut his hips to claw the thing back out, but your body has absorbed the alloy of it.

“i want you to fuck me like you missed me.” a shuddered breath, a secret thought, and then: “did you miss me?”

and that question doesn’t come from the metal. no, with your palms warming his helmet you know he’s asking from the fleshy lines between the silver pieces. this is a bloody question. the drag of your cunt against his leg continues still, toes curling beneath you with the cold sting through the fabric of your panties, and perched here atop him you suppose your honesty costs you little in the face of all the rest you’ll give up.

“yes, i did.”

his hands collect your dress like water, silk spilling out between the fingers of his gloves, as he bares you to him, and his visor tips with the sight of you, a feat of topology he memorized so long ago. with a brush of red fabric against your ears you cling to him in only the little scrap of lace that licks along his leg with the wet kiss of your cunt.

“this pussy get wet for me like it used to?”

fuck.

“yes, yeah,” you breathe out, little bites of ecstasy weaving their way from your clit to the nape of your neck.

“oh, my edee, look at you,” and he grips a hand in your hair, pushing your eyeline down to watch the gleaming strip of want brushed and rewritten over on his armor. “you like drenching me like that? fuck cyar’ika i’ll leave this hotel like this and everyone will know i’ve fucked a fucking whore.” fuckfuckfuck. you remember the vein along the underside of his cock, want him to hurt you with it now.

“so fuck your whore, mando, you’ve paid for her,” you plead, but he drops his helmet to your forehead, the both of you still awe struck at the starlit gash of slick you’re dripping on him as your hips gyrate.

“you’re no more patient than you used to be,” he chuckles, but the wobbled rasp of his voice strips him all but naked to you. his hands grind you harder on his body and you wail, neck open as your head falls back. the pleasure sinks its teeth in you now, all hot bloodlust and bubbling open like seafoam.

“fuck, mando, i–i’m gonna come.”

“yeah, that’s it, right here, make that pussy gush for me and then i’ll fuck her open.”

ecstasy knocks through your arteries as your body pulls tight against him, and with desperate hands he grabs at you, around your asscheeks and between your shoulder blades, to feel you jerk with it. he’s groaning something deep and unforgivable watching you move, but already you’re looking for the weight of his cock.

“fuck me, fuck me,” you heave into his shoulder as you slump over, and he’s nodding silently with you, yes, i remember, i remember. the preamble of fingers and tongues is being leapt over, but neither of you seem to mind. he pulls the leather of his gloves off to maneuver you onto all fours on the bed, and after working his pants open with the bared warmth of his fingers the pads are back on you, running down your back and up your thighs. the heft of him pokes at you and you’re clenching with the feeling, the memory, again the memory. from between your open legs you drop your head to watch him pump his length, fingers tan and thick and a little tattoo between them.

his head catches at your opening and a whine spills from between your teeth.

“louder, cyare,” he grounds out. another inch in and you keen.

“fuck.”

his palms find purchase on your side and he anchors himself there, partway within you. you both whistle out whispered breaths listening to the sound of you joined together, him pulling out a centimeter before sinking it back in, fucking you with the head of his cock.

“oh, it’s just the fucking tip and i’m stretching you already, cyar’ika,” he moans.

“more,” you mewl, “i want more.” and really that’s always been your problem, you suppose.

his hips are speeding up now, wretched little humps into the tight clutch of your cunt, but he abstains from the whole of it. “fucking beg me for it, edee, i’ve waited this fucking long.”

into the sheets, bunched by your fingers and your jostling knees on the bed, you moan, “please, please, please, fuck me on your cock, cyare, i need it, please.”

the piece of himself, the metal and his creed’s tongue, that he rutted into you all those years ago comes roaring at him now, is cracked open in the air of your voice, and he stutters with it. he fucks you like retribution, hips slapping against your ass with a wet crackle, and you’re screaming, suddenly.

“that’s it, edee, that’s it.”

the walls of your cunt pulse velvet around him as he punches in and out of you, cock reaching up like he’s trying to touch your tongue with it, run through the length of you with his steel and grunting. your body blooms for him, petals open like it always did. when was the last time fucking him felt like your job? it’s all coming back to you now, crying at the foot of your bed, missing him dearly. you have always been a professional despite the intimacy of what you do, but you feel wholly unprofessional here.

“fuck, you’re so fucking tight, it’s like you’re sucking me back in,” and you can’t help your clenching now, “yes, edee, again for me, again.”

and you do, pulsing and clamping on his shaft, and he nearly wails with the feeling. the hum of his voice through the helmet protects him some, but maker you know him well, years worth of your mandalorian, and so you hear it all clearly, him melting behind the metal and fusing at the edges. you push away the thought that he’ll pay you for this.

“maker your pussy feels so fucking good, i’ve never stopped—ah—never stopped fucking thinking about it.”

the jut of his chestplate bites your skin as he pulls your hips up but you barely feel it. “no?”

“never, never,” he repeats, and his own babbling eggs him on, you think, as he thrusts impossibly faster. he fucks you like he needs it, has always needed it, and you’re reminded again that you loved him before, that you love him again, now, perhaps, but it’s all so hard to see clearly with the tight chain of pleasure running up your spine.

slick seeping from your hole around him you moan, “feel so f–fucking full of it, fuck.”

a frantic hand comes around to your front, pulls the red gem from your chest to lay along your back, and watching the glint of red and gold that he left you bounce on your skin makes him growl and choke. “fuck, fuck, i’m so close, cyar’ika.”

he bends to meet your back and drops the weight of his helmet on the wing of your shoulder and you might not survive the angle of his cock in you now. you’d clasp your hands in penitence if they didn’t hold the both of you up, because this luxury, him greeting your body like it’s his final gutted conquest, is the last you’ll ever beg for.

with both of you sputtering your souls out on the duvet he groans, “i miss your old name, edee, give it to me again.”

the begging makes you pulse, but you shake your head. your name is your first and only born inheritance, and when you grew old enough to realize it you’d had to shed the thing, or rather hide it, stashed away, untouched.

“please cyar’ika, just one more like this, just like this, your real name.”

your moans screech with the tragedy of him pleading with you this way, and bellow because you want to let him. yes, you love him now, and you wheeze, “i don’t know your real name, mandalorian.”

this knocks the wind from him and it blows out along the back of your neck but the piston of his cock in you continues, heightens further, and you’re both on the precipice of something devastating. he groans out breathless “din, din, it’s din,” and then, “maker please let me use it.”

as deep and jagged as the naming cuts you, you have never felt this hallowed a thing. him inside, and knowing what to call him, is unlike any bliss you’ve ever known. “din,” you wail.

he nods at your back. “yes, yes, din. let me use it.”

at last you’re nodding, crown of your head bobbing back on his body, and a torrential downpour of your name spits from his mouth, slides down his helmet and onto your spine. and the coming is unlike all the rest, a slow climb, a painful clawing that rips your flesh from the bone, but suddenly you’re both heaving with it, his warmth pumping through you and your gushing slick sliding out. for a moment you panic, worry for the windowsill, for the way it always ends. but your din. the panic catches on din and smokes away.

your limbs give out and you meet the mattress with your eyes closed, aching and a little empty, but mostly as satisfied as a desperate creature like yourself is capable. you’re reminded of the clank of his armor as he rights himself behind you. it’s so easy to forget it, what with how human he feels.

“din.”

the rattle of beskar stills. he returns your name, the real one again.

i love you, i loved you then, and you loved me. no. no, you think, it’s far too true to say. so instead: “will you come find me again?”

the bed dips as he sits on it and a gentle glove strokes through your hair. “always, cyar’ika. i’ll come back for you.”

and because you believe him, din, you do not lift your head to watch him place the credits and dissolve away. you’ll save the shine of him, you vow, for the next time he arrives for you. your mandalorian.

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

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #the mandolorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #hello woolf

94 notes · View notes

assassinmidnight · 1 year

Text

Anytime, cyare

Din finds his riddur overstimulated and he knows exactly what to do.

---

Din Djarin x Autistic!Fem!Reader

---

Not beta read cause we die like men. I am dyslexic. Sorry for any spelling errors. I'm going off of my own experience everyone is different.

__________________

Din knew his girl well. She was sweet to the child, loved reading heartwarming stories and didn't mind beating someone up. He also knew that this behaviour was not usual for his sweet girl, and it worried him immensely. She had been off since they woke up this morning.

“Morning Adika,”

“Morning,” she’d mumbled back, not turning to him, her eyes fixed on the wall. It was strange, she would usually meet his eyes and smile, or hug him.

His eyes wandered and he saw the stiffness in her body, the almost mechanical way her breathing was. No this was not normal for his sweet girl.

"Have you eaten?"

Now she turned, eyes glassy and hollow. She shook her head, telling him no. He sighed, he knew what was wrong.

The day before

They were walking through a marketplace on some planet in the outer rim. She felt sick, too many people, too much noise, too many smells. Everything was too much, the vendor trying to sell her jewels from Naboo, the crying child across the street who didn't get what he wanted from his mum. Even the smooth feel of Dins armour was painful to touch. She did her best to steady her breathing, she didn't want him to worry.

Now

Din wanted to kick himself, his ad’ika was overstimulated and had gone into a complete shut down. He should've known, she always needed help after a day at the market but he'd been so preoccupied with the bounty and she often manages it herself.

"Ad'ika?" He removed his helmet, she needed to see him. Kneeling in front of her and putting the helmet to his side he met her eyes. Her finger traced his cheek. "Riddur'' she said, her voice weaker than normal. He smiled.

"Do you need some tea, cyare?" Nothing changed, it was like she didn't hear him.

"You need to answer me, sweet girl. I want to help," this time she shook her head. She couldn't speak properly. Din picked her up and carried her to the cockpit.

He was making her tea, having left her in the cockpit with her specially made headphones. It was hard for him to see her like this. So weak and incapable. It wasn't her fault, he knew that but he hated that his sweet girl had to suffer like this.

She took a sip from the tea before staring out the window. It was calm, he knew it would take a bit more before she'd come back to him but there wasn't much else he could do, he did everything she'd said he could do and now he had to let her get back on her own.

SItting down on the cot he couldn't help but think back to the first time it happened.

Flashback

She had been shaking when he found her, on the floor with her knees in her face.

“Y/N?”

She shook her head, “Go away, I’m fine,” her voice cracked. He felt his face fall, she clearly wasn't okay, why didn't she feel comfortable telling him that. “I can see that something is wrong, tell me, please Ad’ika.”

She lifted her head and he saw her eyes. Her pupils were going haywire, expanding and shrinking constantly.

End of flashback

After that he’d made her tell him everything about it. She’d been surprised when he wanted her to stay on the ship.

An hour later he walked up to her and smiled in relief. She looked at him, properly, eyes filled with energy.

"Thank you,” it was just a whisper.

"Anytime cyare."

#din djarin #the mandolarian #mando x reader #star wars #reader insert #din djarin x reader #autistic reader #fluff #mando x y/n

196 notes · View notes

hannibalzero · 2 months

Text

With my whole heart

Medieval Obikin au (atm might make it a bit Science fiction. Not sure yet ❤️🐰❤️🐰)

Teaser!

The grand imperial place of The emperor. Darth Sidious Palpatine the first. was truly the shining center diamond of the Sith empire’s crown of jewels. a marvel of Gothic styled architecture, high ceilings and stained glass. proclaiming of heroes and battles long fought.

with the best luxuries credits could buy. Gardens full of exotic flowers and fruits that even made the senator of Naboo envious of its splendor. Painting and statues, tapestries and furs.

yet, Emperor Darth Sidious beloved palace unnerved all that called it home. endless hallways and corridors, full of secrets and ques in the works. a vicious court, plotting and kissing ass. most of Sidious’s court would stab each other in the back for just a passing glace from the all powerful emperor.

At one time, when Vader was a boy at the age of nine. Anakin. walking up the grand steps under the main guided gates, holding his Mother’s hand. The awe and excitement at seeing the emperor crest.

now all Vader felt was when he saw Sidiouse’s crest was blood and madness. Sidious thrived off this chaos, was delighted about the bloodshed and the spoils of war.

Vader could now see with the filth and venom of Sidious place. Yes, the palace was breathtakingly grand but when you looked closely into the nooks and crannies. you could see blood, cobwebs and the smell of urine.

it was truly filthy.

How Vader hated it, yet as a knight of the empire and one of the Darths. The emperors beloved war dogs, Sidious had called Vader home for the first time in years. what else could Vader do but fallow the emperor command?

Walking out of the war room after his debreffing

#star wars #obikin #obi wan kenobi #my writing #anakin skywalker #fanfic #with my whole heart au

20 notes · View notes

wenalena · 8 months

Text

I don't have drawing them together since a long time ago ! I will post very soon my fanfiction about them (absolutely no romance) I have finished the translation of my two first chapter and I very excited (and stressed) to share this with someone else than my partner <:')

I offer you the resume :

Thirty-three years ago the Empire was gone and the New Republic continued to solidify its relationship across the galaxy.

June leads a more than peaceful life on Naboo where her mother's business thrives. She lacks nothing and her future seems all mapped out as well as those of her friends. Well, all of this was before one of his friends decided to rob a cartel and put a target on their backs. Although she had always dreamed of adventure, June would have done well without this kind of trouble. Forced to run away, their ship crashes on Tatooine where they find a strange jewel. In contact with him, the young lady will realize that she is perhaps not so normal and that her universe could end up upside down forever.

#You have no idea how I love writing on them #Maul's apprentice #Maul #Darth Maul #June #My oc #Oc #SW oc #star wars oc #oc #sw oc #jedi oc #Ghost Maul #sith apprentice #Father and daughter #Star wars #Zabrak #human oc

48 notes · View notes

badpancakelol · 1 year

Text

“Have a nice day!”

Eddie doesn’t hope he has a nice day. The guy was a dick and tried to short him on credits, despite being so obviously well off. Like, c’mon, man. Not even trying to hide the Nabooian silk robes? Or the Coruscanti accent? Offhandedly mentioning that his girlfriend was a senator? Just because he works in the middle of a shit ship-port on Tatooine doesn’t mean he’s thick. He wipes the grease off his hands onto the already-dirty rag, but there’s no use in using precious water on a midday clean. Instead, Eddie dabs the sweat from his brow, and contemplates buzzing his hair short again.

Nabooian. Silk. Thousand threaded, cool-to-the-touch, Eddie’s-favourite-colour, Nabooian silk. The guy had to be taunting him. Had to be. In this heat? In Eddie’s port? With his favourite colour?

(Does it matter that it wasn’t his favourite colour until a certain someone had shown him in-colour holos of the fields? No. No it does not).

And then he had some wannabe bounty hunter from his block try and threaten him to fix his ship, which? Hello? Does Mr Blonde Mullet really think that threatening Eddie is gonna make him want to fix his shit faster? I’ll break your hand if you so much as put a scratch on her. It’s not like he can even do anything to hurt Eddie. A broken hand slows down the work, as does a fractured leg, or a black eye, or a concussion, or a blaster burn, or a vibro-wound, or a—

Ah. You get the point. All bark and no bite, and, dank farrik did he have a stupid amount of bark. Enough bark to fill the entire four hours it took to fix his hunk of junk.

So, really, you can’t blame him for the mood that he’s been in all day (or, you could try, but if your engine takes a little bit longer to retune, or your fuel is a little more expensive than normal, well. Have fun trying to trek your way into the shitshow of the other side of town), when he turns to find the stupidly shiny Naboo royal starship spluttering its way in. Because, seriously? What the hell has he done to the people of Naboo to deserve this?

Eddie thumps his head against the makeshift table, shouts before the ramp has even extended to let whoever-the-fuck out of the rich ship, “We’re closed!”

The sharp click of heeled boots grate on Eddie’s brain, and is only dulled when he watches the way they sink slightly into the ground through his curtain of hair.

“I don’t need any work done.” Rich Naboo Man says, and—

He knows that voice.

“I just need a place to park for a little while — I’m visiting a friend around here, actually.”

Eddie lifts his head, peeks up at the person in front of him. The person who is very much Naboo royalty, who is wearing those stupid bright red robes, and the stupid headpiece that he said was too heavy and impractical, with makeup that he said highlighted his broken nose too much, is shuffling out of the starship. His head is held high, and there’s a crease in his brow that’s been the same since they were stupid foundlings with Eddie reading out the aurebesh on the flimsi that their teachers handed them.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Steve?”

“Eddie?” His head moves so fast that the jewels dangling from the headpiece almost whip him in the face. And then Steve is shuffling forwards, back straight and face smoothed to a soothing smile, before he’s already apologising. “I’m sorry that I didn’t make it on time. There were duties that I had to attend to, and they ran longer than—”

He bolts from his seat, taking long strides in his ratty grey jumpsuit before he’s caught Steve around the middle twirling them around, because he’s waiting fifty-seven rotations for this. Fifty-seven. If Steve says one more damned apology Eddie is quite literally going to explode. The laugh that Steve lets out is so hearty and so full — warmer than both of Tattoooine’s suns — and, Force, if Eddie has to go another almost-two-months without seeing him, he is quite literally going to overthrow Naboo.

“Hey! It’s okay, Hop. You can put the blaster down.” Steve places his hands onto Eddie’s shoulders and— did he hear that right?

“King Harrington—”

“—Please, Hop, not while I’m off-duty—”

“Steve, the guy ran at you and hauled you up.”

Steve turns around, and Eddie feels like, then. His royal robes create a silhouette of patience and strength, and tower over Eddie, if you count in the headpiece. There is a part of Eddie that whispers how he should very much be letting go of Steve, because his guard still has his blaster aimed at the only bits of him that stick out from behind Steve’s ornate dress. But it’s been so long, and there’s a larger part of his soul that says that he never wants to let go.

“Hopper,” Steve says, and Eddie can just feel the commanding tone of voice bleed through his usual casualness. “This is who I was meeting.”

Eddie lifts his head over Steve’s shoulder, and ignores the small huff he gets in return for the grease he undoubtedly just smeared across Steve’s very expensive, thousand thread Nabooian silk robes. Maybe it’ll finally give him a reason to change out of them. Hopper lowers his blaster, shoves it into the holster with too much and too little force without-a-capital-F all at once. If Eddie was a lesser man he would have snorted. Or, if Eddie was a lesser man he would have let the guard hear his snort.

“This is the guy you’re courting?” “Force, you make us sound old.” Eddie sighs at the same time Steve full-heartedly responds “Yes.”

The guard — Hopper — just pinches his brow and adjusts the hat on his head. “Well, I can’t say anything for your taste in men, but at least he has a respectable job. And he gets paid.”

“Stevie’s still dealing with the Naboo’s Royal Pocket Money?”

“Don’t remind me.” Steve says, moving a swift motion so that he holds Eddie’s hand underneath one of the long red sleeves of his gown.

When Eddie turns to look at Steve, he’s already turned. There’s a mellowed out look on his face that Eddie reads as is your work finished? Let’s clean up and lie around and do nothing but be near each other. And who is Eddie to deny such a request?

“Well,” Eddie says, in all the hospitality that a man from Tatooine can muster, “We best not keep you any longer.”

Hop hums in the way that Wayne used to when he knew that Eddie was just trying to weasel his way out of things. Maybe it was just one of those sixth senses that fathers-who-aren’t-biologically-fathers gain when their children start dating. Or maybe Eddie’s just obvious.

“I can give you a rundown of your ship in the morning. I think you’ve dislodged something in your engine — I could hear it rattling before you even landed.”

Steve tugs on Eddie’s arm, lip quirked up at the corners, and crows feet showing through ornate red and white makeup. “Eds, there’s nothing wrong—”

“Stevie, I love you, but you’re terrible at lying.”

#stranger things april aus #pov the only thing i take from the 1st april tradesperson au prompt is that eddie is a mechanic #welcome to the start of my star wars steddie miniseries that follows @designatedgrape 's april aus #yes. steve is basically padme.#no eddie is not anakin #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie #eddie x steve #steveddie #stranger things #if you saw me accidentally post this three times no you didnt

102 notes · View notes

not0a0mundane · 4 months

Text

thanks you @lost-in-derry for the tag to this!!

Rules: In a new post, list the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs. (I have a LONG WIP folder so for the sake of clarity I'm going to make them about the ones that have their own discord channel)

The Sith Queen - basically Padmé saves Darth Maul at the end of TPM and their friendship blooms from there (got the first part finished but the actual sith training motage is not written yet, I do got memes tho)

Little Sith Ani - this is an ongoing wip as it is a series and it's basically "what if Anakin was always a sith" with the twist that he was mostly raised by Darth Maul. Currently has 5 installments and I plan for more when I get back to it.

Jabba's Jewel - Palpatine loses Darth Maul in a bet with Jabba the Hutt. Jabba fakes Maul's death and has a shiny new assasin/exotic dancer. I haven't got any writing yet but I do have memes

Caught in his golden gaze - an emotionally neglected rich coruscant sociolite is stuck in a loveless marriage when a handsome bachelor in the form of the newest representative for Naboo, the war hero Jar Jar Binks. (Will try to keep it as GN!REader as possible)

Ashla Au - got like 2 chapters done, basically kallus realised the atrocity he commited on lasan and the goddess Ashla saw that and decided "you will earn your forgivness".

The Bogling au - nearly same vein as the ashla au, but Kallus had always been in association with the lasat pantheon. (basically kallus is a no-domain deity, get's put into a tiny mortal body and has to find a domain that he can become the god of so that he can return home)(still in the working things through phase, based on greek mythology reimagined into a star wars setting)

Bonus!

OSHA!Inspector Maul Au - a silly little idea where Palpatine takes Smaul(Small Maul) with him to see the cloning facilities on Kamino and then forgets Maul there. When he remembers that he as an apprentice some time later, Maul has already become an intern in the Kamino cloning facility. They refuse to acknowledge that Palpatine even came into their facility with a dathomirian zabrak child in tow.

tagging: @seth-silver-ink @hannagoldworthy @sapphic-loser16 @astralalmighty @gran-maul-seizure and anyone else that wants to try!

#tumblr game #Mun wip #star wars #darth maul #alexsandr kallus #agent kallus #padme amidala #jar jar binks

11 notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 2 years

Text

Star Wars: Project Runway AU

I feel like I definitely should have talked about a Project Runway AU at some point on tumblr, but I cannot recall doing so.

Okay so. Obviously prequels era because duh.

Mentor: Obi-Wan, more Gunn than Siriano (Unfortunate, because Siriano is a delightful gremlin, but Obi-Wan's really more Gunn.)

Host: Fox (he has many opinions)

Main Judges:

Bail: Head designer at a prestigious fashion brand

Padmé: Former supermodel who started her own fashion line after retiring with the birth of her twins

Mace: Editor-in-Chief for a major fashion magazine (yes, he's the Nina)

Guest Judges include:

Jocasta Nu: Finale judge, very Diane von Furstenberg

Riyo Chuchi: Actress, known for her accessories at red carpet events

Shaak Ti: Retired supermodel

Mon Mothma: Fashion journalist

Satine Kryze: Politician known for her style and her major support of environmentally-conscious fashion movements

Breha Organa: Broadway star

Dooku: Head of Serenno fashion house

Contestants:

Anakin: tends to work at lot with leathers and architectural elements

Bly: fashionista trans lady Bly is not mine, but a piece that @meerlichts shared recently has me going with 'brightly colored professional minimalism.' (Fashionista trans lady Bly belongs to @petrichordiam)

Aayla: very similar to the designs by Victoria Cocieru in (S18), I think. Assymetrical, heavy on the cutouts, usually somewhere between saturated and pastels, which contrasts with her own fashion (dark, textured leather).

Ahsoka: youngest competitor, often gets critiqued for her designs skewing towards a teenage/college demographic that isn't as palatable to older shoppers with more disposable income

Kix: heavy usage of armor-inspired elements; argues with judges on the basis of pragmatism over aesthetic for clothing, but also gets really invested in complicated hair looks and accessories

Ferus Olin: minimalist, usage of clean lines and limited palettes; it's very pretty, but gets critiqued as a little boring and repetitive. I'd compare him to Tessa Clark (S17)

Barriss: a modesty designer in the vein of Ayana Ife (S16)

Krell: competes, but is such an asshole, complete with sabotage, that he gets asked to leave, or even chooses to do so himself (it's happened a few times!)

Fives: known for a use of absolutely riotous levels of color, very clever in terms of color blocking, prints, and design. He's inconsistent when it comes to his finishes and structure, though, and has a tendency to run out of time, so he gets dinged for garments legitimately coming apart on the runway when a brisk walk was too much stress on the seams.

Quinlan: primarily a sports and athleisure designer, struggles with the red carpet challenges

Bo-Katan: clashes with Kix because they both have very military-inspired styles, but in different ways; she has a much heavier use of boning and structural components, with less of Kix's flair

Thrawn: pretentious and old-fashioned in terms of style, but impeccable structure and skill, so he makes it to the finale based in large part on his grasp of technical aspects, much like S18's Sergio Guadarrama

Yané: Specializes in mega flowy things for the AU. We're talking chiffons, organza, lace. A whiz with silk charmeuse, which everyone is incredibly jealous of because seriously? How.

Kit Fisto: plays a lot with geometric prints and draws heavily on Caribbean traditional clothes and streetwear

I want someone who's a bit like Samantha Rei (S16, lolita fashion-y personal style with either jewel tones or bright, saturated colors and big skirts), and someone with a bit of... one of the people that really specializes immensely with tailoring (I want to say... Kenya Freeman, S16). Since this show usually has 16 designers per season, that would really round us out, I think.

Most of the Naboo handmaidens are models for the show, as are some of the clones. I want the S16+ standard of having a variety of body types, but I'm not sure who would be included in that on account of like... SW isn't big on body type diversity.

235 notes · View notes

lincolndjarin · 9 months

Text

Lysa & Elaine ✮ BKS

hated all the sketches i did of them (whoops) gonna take a shower and try again. until then here's some background information on princess!readers personal servants, including basic information on their relationship, origins, and descriptions that most likely won't be included in bks but are canon. enjoy!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

the only canon description of the girls i recall is when reader draws them so here's that:

Elaine: "You draw the short horns that come up from the top of her head in cone shapes. The long head tails that fell down her shoulders, you’d never seen a Togruta with them as long as hers. You lightly shade in the red parts of her skin, leaving the white spots on her face empty of any ink."

Lysa: "Her big round eyes, her olive skin, and her short black hair. You draw her next to Elaine. It feels weird to separate them."

here's a more detailed description of how i imagine them :)

Lysa: i've had a couple of different visualizations for her (which is why it's hard for me to draw her) but here's the main points that are always the same

short curly black hair

olive skin

wide round eyes

significantly shorter than elaine

at shortest probs like 4'9, at tallest 5'2

hooked nose

thick eyebrows

she has a few beauty marks

tiny little tooth gap :)

a perpetual confused look on her face

she wears mostly long skirts and cotton tunics

keeps her hair back when possible, typically with headbands and bandanas

gold jewelry

Elaine:

from the start she's always been red to me

almond eyes

short horns, almost like they never grew in

super fucking long head tails

asymmetrical face patterns

very very tall probably 6'2

like fr a permanent frown on her face unless she's actively laughing, oddly stern expression. crazy rbf

wears pretty jeweled headbands

wears those cool ass flowy linen pants and sleeveless tops

silver jewelry

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

relationship and backstory:

I think it's clear at this point that they are lovers and have been for quite some time and I adore them. once again this is not going to be deeply discussed in bks, mostly because it won't be important to Din and Readers story but also it's still important to me LMAO

basically in my head canon (as the author when i headcanon does it just become canon?) is that they were in a very similar situation. elaine was a part of a small outer rim royalty adjacent?? family, something more like a dukedom or a lordship sort of thing. she wasn't in an arranged marriage or anything, she was mostly just facing pressure from her family to find a partner and settle down (is there homophobia in star wars??? not in my canon! anyway,,,) lysa's family was employed by elaines family. they grew up together and eventually once it was expected of elaine to marry when she came of age she decided she wanted to be with lysa which resulted in her exile from her family. they traveled around doing odd jobs for a period of time before finally setting on something permanent where they could have a life together on Naboo.

idk if anyone cares about this but uhhh yeah. that's my girls <3

#lincolndjarin #best kept secret #little background info on my fav girls #none of this will come up in canon but its been in my brain for a long time so i gotta get it out

22 notes · View notes

swan-of-sunrise · 11 months

Text

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Thirty-Nine)

Summary: After Bo-Katan and Din uncover the culprit behind Plazir-15′s droid malfunctions, they are granted permission to access the Mandalorian mercenaries and (Y/N) does her best to encourage the Nite Owl.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: This one’s a little shorter than I originally anticipated, but I still had a lot of fun with it! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-Nine The Mercenaries (Previous Chapter)

When (Y/N) was a little girl, her mother would often regale her with bedtime stories about the elegant balls once held at Naboo’s royal palace in Theed, where beings of all shapes and sizes dressed in the finest clothing the planet’s seamsters and seamstresses could offer and danced all through the evening. She always dreamed of attending such a soiree but she never truly believed that she ever would, so it came as quite a pleasant surprise when she and Grogu were invited by the Duchess and Captain Bombardier to a ball celebrating the happy couple’s wedding anniversary. (Y/N), dressed in a beautiful sea-blue gown embellished with sparkling jewels and with her hair carefully styled into an elaborate updo, and Grogu mingled with Plazir-15’s citizens, the former learning all that she could about the planet’s unique culture and the latter practically preening under all the attention he was receiving from their gracious hosts and the other attendees.

As the evening went on and both Din and Bo-Katan were nowhere to be found, a worried (Y/N) decided to try contacting her husband through his comm and learned that the Mandalorians’ investigation into the planet’s malfunctioning droids had become more complicated than either of them originally anticipated; they’d visited the Ugnaughts that worked far below the city, chased down a rogue battle droid and gained some insight on the problem after a visit to a droid bar named ‘The Resistor.’ They were heading to the city’s morgue to examine the battle droid’s remains for more evidence when (Y/N) called, and Din confirmed that they were still far from solving the planet’s ongoing droid problem.

“I’m sorry that this has taken so long, alor’ad. I know I said we’d be back soon-”

“It’s all right, sweetheart, I understand,” (Y/N) soothed, glancing over her shoulder at the glittering assemblage inside the palace before leaning against the railing and watching Grogu play with a frog that hopped onto the balcony. “How’re you holding up, Din?”

She could hear Din quietly sigh on the other end. “It’s hard to not think about what happened to my parents, of course, but knowing that you and the kid are safe gives me piece of mind, helps me focus on the task at hand. We’ll get to the bottom of Plazir’s droid problem, and then we’ll finally have access to the Mandalorian mercenaries outside the dome.” The sound of a door sliding open echoed through the comm and Din muttered a quiet curse. “I have to go now, alor’ad, we’ve arrived at the morgue.”

(Y/N) fiddled with the sleeve of her gown and forced an upbeat tone as she replied, “All right, well…be careful, Din, and we’ll see you soon. I love you.”

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

The next morning, Din and Bo-Katan were still busy investigating the droid malfunctions, so (Y/N) took advantage of her circumstances and asked the Duchess for permission to access the planet’s vast records in the hopes of finding any information on Jedi Master Kelleran Beq; while there was nothing in their records about the Jedi who’d saved Grogu’s life, there was still plenty of information on the history of the Jedi Order and their exploits throughout the Clone Wars, so (Y/N) spent her morning reading in the palace’s great hall while the royals and their guests played garden games.

“Okay, let me get that for you, m’lady. Your toss, lovely.”

Looking up from her holopad, (Y/N) watched as Captain Bombardier handed a furled pill-bug to the Duchess and when her gaze lowered to see Grogu sneakily peeking out from behind the folds of her elaborate gown, she giggled and hid her amused smile behind her hand. The Duchess sized up the glowing rings positioned around the artificial turf before tossing the furled pill-bug into the air; just as (Y/N) suspected, Grogu raised his clawed hand and used the Force to send the pill-bug flying, where it bounced off two crawling pill-bugs and through four rings. The crowd cheered and Grogu cooed in delight as the Duchess and Captain Bombardier clapped in happiness. “A Quadro-blast! I’ve never seen such a streak! Wasn’t that splendid, Captain (Y/L/N)?”

“It was a wonderful toss, Your Majesty,” (Y/N) complimented from her seat near the artificial lawn and gave Grogu a subtle wink when he looked her way.

The sound of the doors opening drew their attention away from the game, and (Y/N)’s brow furrowed in confusion when she saw Din and Bo-Katan escorting a handcuffed old man into the great hall. While (Y/N) slowly got to her feet, the royal couple cautiously approached the Mandalorians and Captain Bombardier tilted his head to the side in perplexity. “What are you doing with Commissioner Helgait?”

“We found the cause of your ‘malfunctions.’”

The guests gasped in shock and the Duchess held a hand to her chest. “Is this true?”

“I’m afraid it is, M’Lady.” Commissioner Helgait ducked his head in visible regret at the stunned tone in her voice.

Captain Bombardier shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. “Despicable.”

The old man let out a humorless chuckle. “If that isn’t the Quacta calling the Stifling slimy…”

“I beg your pardon?”

“This planet is unrecognizable since he arrived!”

“…I had a feeling you hated me.”

Ignoring the exchange between her husband and her head of security, the Duchess pursed her lips and fixed the old man with a saddened look. “I’m disappointed in you, Commissioner. You served my family well, but Captain Bombardier is the love of my life and I know his heart is true.” She rested a hand on her husband’s shoulder and flashed him a tender smile that he was quick to return; (Y/N)’s own eyes flicked over to Din, and she felt herself flush when she saw that the visor of his helmet was already angled towards her instead of the drama unfolding in the great hall. “Sure, he’s made some mistakes in the past, but who here among us has not? Is there no room for a little bit of forgiveness in a galaxy so vast?”

Commissioner Helgait nodded once and cast his gaze downwards. “I am sorry to have disappointed you, My Lady. Perhaps someday, I can earn such forgiveness from Your Grace.”

“Perhaps. As for now, you must live in exile on the moon of Paraqaat.” With a wave of the Duchess’ hand, four constable droids escorted the disgraced head of security from the great hall and after heaving a weary sigh, she turned to face (Y/N) and the two Mandalorians. “And as for you, Lady Bo-Katan Kryze, Din Djarin of Concordia and Captain (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Naboo,” (Y/N) released the breath she’d inadvertently been holding when the Duchess used her preferred name instead of her legal one. “I grant you audience with our deployment of Mandalorian privateers. I also give to you three our highest honor, the key to Plazir.” She reached for an oversized key resting on a silver platter held by a servant droid and offered it out towards them. “You will always be welcome in our domed paradise.”

As (Y/N) moved to stand beside Din, Bo-Katan smiled and stepped forward to receive their honor. “M’Lady. M’Lord.”

“Captain (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I bequeath to you Plazir’s humble collection of Lomiya Corrik’s design sketches, personally commissioned by my family many cycles ago.” The Duchess smiled at (Y/N)’s stunned expression and handed her a leather-bound portfolio. “Although they held an honored place in my family’s collection, I hereby declare that they rightfully belong to the House of Corrik and its descendants.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, (Y/N) clutched the portfolio to her chest and bowed her head in a sign of respect. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The Duchess looked down at Grogu, who was still standing at her side, and accepted the sword that one of her guards offered her. “And to this little one, I grant knighthood.” As she gently tapped the tip of the sword against his tiny shoulders, Bo-Katan fought back a smile and (Y/N) beamed with pride. “You are now a knight of the Ancient Order of Independent Regencies.” Both royals looked up at the trio and the Duchess’ eyes gleamed with thankfulness. “Go in peace, brave travelers. Until our paths meet again.”

“M’Lord. M’Lady.” Din stepped forward to scoop Grogu up into his arms and after resting a gloved hand on the small of (Y/N)’s back, they turned and walked out of the great hall. “A Jedi padawan, a Mandalorian foundling and now a knight; the kid’s collecting titles quicker than the galaxy can come up with ‘em.”

(Y/N) chuckled and while they stepped into their hyperloop pod, she reached over to caress one of the cooing child’s large ears and gave him an affectionate smile as Din placed him in his floating pram. “Of course he is, who can resist this cute little face?” He giggled when her fingers tickled the patch of skin just beneath his chin, and she looked over at her husband as the pod started moving. “So, did that head of security say why he was making the droids malfunction like that?”

“He was a Separatist.” (Y/N)’s smile fell as she watched Din shift in his seat and stare down at his boots. “He wanted to use the droids to disrupt the planet and collapse their society in the name of democracy.”

Exchanging a knowing look with Bo-Katan, (Y/N) rested a hand on the side on her husband’s beskar helmet and gently coaxed him to look over at her before placing her hand flat on the center of his chestplate, directly over his heart. “But you and Bo-Katan stopped his plan before anyone was hurt; you saved the citizens of Plazir, and you saved the innocent droids that Commissioner Helgait hijacked to carry out his bidding. I know that that wasn’t easy for you, sweetheart, and I’m proud of you.”

Din’s gloved hand moved to cradle her cheek and guided her closer to rest his forehead against hers in a brief but meaningful Keldabe Kiss. “Thank you, alor’ad.” After a long moment, he pulled away and looked down at the leather-bound portfolio resting on her lap. “I’m glad that you were able to reclaim a piece of your mother and had the opportunity to see first-hand the lasting impact of her artistry. Can I take a look at her design sketches?”

“Now approaching landing field three.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to grant him permission but when she caught sight of Bo-Katan staring pensively out at the vibrant green fields surrounding the domed city, she carefully tucked the portfolio into her satchel and nudged her husband’s boot with her own as she replied, “Maybe later, after we…um, talk to the Mandalorian mercenaries.”

Din nodded and when (Y/N) patted his knee, he cleared his throat and addressed the troubled Nite Owl seated across from them. “They’re Mandalorians. You’re their leader. They’re going to follow you.”

The anxious look remained on Bo-Katan’s face as her eyes flicked down to stare at her gloved hands. “I’m not their leader anymore. Axe Woves is.”

“Then what’s your play?”

She sighed and glanced back up to meet their gazes. “I’ll know when I get there.”

“Well, no matter what you decide to do out there, Din and I believe in you; there’s no one who’s better equipped to unite both factions of Mandalorians, Bo.” (Y/N) gave Bo-Katan an encouraging smile, and her heart warmed in her chest when the Nite Owl slowly returned it with one of her own. The hyperloop pod came to a stop and after stepping out onto the platform, they descended the many steps and walked across the vast field to where the Mandalorians established their base camp at its center; dozens of helmetless warriors stared them down as they slowly approached, and (Y/N) mumbled under her breath to Din, “At least when your covert stares, you can’t see all the judgmental looks they’re giving under their helmets.”

The Mandalorian huffed out a quiet chuckle and when the three of them stopped a handful of yards away from the base camp, Axe Woves straightened his back but remained seated on his cargo box and took a sip from his cup as he exchanged a glance with Koska Reeves, the Mandalorian warrior who’d helped them rescue Grogu from Moff Gideon. “Have you come back to join the mercenaries?”

Bo-Katan shook her head. “I’ve come to reclaim my fleet.”

“It’s no longer your fleet, is it?” Axe chuckled, gesturing around at the many ships and warriors that surrounded them. “I’m now in command, and grown quite fond of it.”

“Then I challenge you, one warrior to another.” (Y/N) and Din exchanged a look and Grogu anxiously cooed as the grin slipped off of Axe’s face and the Mandalorian mercenaries murmured amongst themselves; the Nite Owl’s stony expression remained unchanged as she stepped forward and harshly continued. “Do you accept my challenge?”

Setting his cup down, Axe slowly got to his feet and clenched his gloved hands at his side. “I do.”

There was tension in the air as the two Mandalorians stared each other down and the helmetless warriors seemingly held their breaths as they stood completely still and waited in anticipation for the challenge to begin. In the blink of an eye, Axe fired a missile from his vambrace and while Bo-Katan used her jetpack to avoid the weapon, Din whisked (Y/N) out of the way and used his beskar-clad body to shield her from the small-scale explosion; (Y/N)’s eyes widened in awe as she watched the Nite Owl slam her Mandalorian opponent onto the ground with a powerful kick to his chest, and she could feel her husband’s arms tighten around her waist when Axe drew his vibro-blade and engaged Bo-Katan in hand-to-hand combat. Both Mandalorians were perfectly matched, slashing and twirling around one another with deadly precision, which made (Y/N) nervously bite her lip even when Bo-Katan managed to knock Axe down a second time.

“It’s okay, kid,” Din comforted Grogu after he hid his face away in his clawed hands to avoid watching Axe fly straight into Bo-Katan and slammed her into the hull of a Kom’rk-class fighter transport. “Bo’s got this.”

They slashed at one another with their blades and each managed to land several blows, the scuffle escalating when Axe fired another missile and Bo-Katan tackled him to the ground; she roughly dragged him to his feet and held her vambrace’s blade to his throat, spitting out, “Do you yield?” With a strangled yell, Axe ignited his jetpack and flew them both into the air, where they landed harshly on the top of another Kom’rk-class fighter transport. They exchanged more blows and Bo-Katan toppled over the edge, but she quickly ignited her jetpack and fired her whipcord to wrap around the Mandalorian mercenary’s ankles, pulling him over the edge and watching him land on the grass below. Axe rolled onto his knee and fired his vambrace’s flamethrower but again, Bo-Katan was quicker; she activated her shield gauntlet to block the flames and flew through the air, tackling Axe onto the ground and pressing the tip of her blade against the exposed skin of his neck. “Do you yield?!”

“You’ll never be the true leader of our people,” Axe spat out, his eyes flicking over to where (Y/N) and Din stood and his lips curled into a sneer. “You won’t even take the Darksaber from him. He’s the one you should be challenging.”

“Enough Mandalorian blood has been spilled by our own hands!” With one final shove, Bo-Katan stood and retracted her vambrace’s blade as she looked around at the assembled Mandalorian mercenaries. “Mandalorians are stronger together.”

Axe picked himself off the ground and let out a mirthless laugh. “But a misguided zealot possesses the blade. One, I might add, who has not one drop of Mandalorian blood in his veins.”

(Y/N)’s hands clenched into tight fists and she angrily started forward, but Din’s halting grip on her waist and Bo-Katan’s sudden words stopped her dead in her tracks. “Din Djarin took the Creed and chose to walk the way, just as our ancestors did. He is every bit the Mandalorian that they were!” Her husband shifted uncomfortably beside her and she placed a soothing hand on the unarmored part of his arm. “Certainly as much as any of us…”

Shaking his head in frustration, Axe held his hands out and scoffed at the Nite Owl’s argument. “But according to our ways, the ruler of Mandalore must possess the Darksaber.”

“Then she shall have it.” (Y/N), Bo-Katan and the Mandalorian mercenaries all looked over at Din in surprise; the Mandalorian stood tall as he patted (Y/N)’s hand and crossed the field to where Bo-Katan and Axe were standing and without a single ounce of hesitation, he unclipped the Darksaber from his utility belt and held it out for the Nite Owl to take. “This belongs to you.”

Bo-Katan, although visibly touched by Din’s selfless gesture, shook her head and gently replied, “It’s not a gift to be given, no matter how well intended.”

“It’s not a gift,” He countered before turning to address the assembled Mandalorian mercenaries, all while a confused (Y/N) exchanged a look with an equally-baffled Bo-Katan. “While exploring Mandalore, my wife and I were captured and this blade was taken from me. Bo-Katan rescued us and slayed our captor. She defeated the enemy that defeated me; would this blade then not belong to her?” The Mandalorian mercenaries murmured amongst themselves, but none of them spoke up until Din repeated his question. “Would it not belong to her?”

After a long moment, Axe sighed and gave him a relenting nod. “It would.”

A smile tugged on the corner of (Y/N)’s lips as she watched her husband turn back to face Bo-Katan and once again held the Darksaber out for her to take. “I return this blade to its rightful owner.”

The Nite Owl slowly lifted her hand and wrapped her gloved fingers around the hilt, the look of uncertainty etched across her face slowly morphing into self-assurance when Din made his way back to where (Y/N) stood with Grogu’s pram and the other Mandalorians followed Koska’s lead in deferentially bowing their heads. With the barest hint of a smile, Bo-Katan took a deep breath and ignited the blade, staring down at its luminous glow and recognizing the culmination of nearly a thousand years of Mandalorian history in that moment.

“And you claim that you’re not one for politics,” (Y/N) teased when Din reached them and placed her hands on her hips as she arched an impressed brow. “I have to say, that was a political maneuver worthy of the New Republic Senate.”

“Coming from a former Rebel, I’ll take that as a compliment.” The Mandalorian patted a babbling Grogu on the head and handed over his silver sphere. “I never wanted the Darksaber, or the right to rule Mandalore. Bo-Katan is the leader that can reunite both factions Mandalorians, and I’ll be satisfied doing anything I can to ensure that her quest succeeds and our people can live a more peaceful life.”

With a tender smile, (Y/N) looped her arm around her husband’s elbow and stretched to press a kiss onto the beskar covering his cheek. “We both will.”

Din nodded and the two of them watched as the Mandalorian mercenaries offered their respects to Bo-Katan and acknowledged her claim to leadership of their faction. They were one crucial step forward on the road to reuniting the divided Mandalorians, but it was clear to each of them that they still had much more work ahead of them. Now we’ve gotta convince the mercenaries and the covert to get along and resist the urge to kill one another, (Y/N) thought to herself with an inward sigh, but if anyone can successfully squash generations of conflict and infighting, I suppose it’s us.

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

Mando’a Translations:

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

A/N: Like I said last week, we’re having work done in the house and it’s been difficult finding time to write, but I’ll hopefully have the next chapter up on time! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! Oh, and I’ve created a Spotify playlist of all my favorite music from the world of Star Wars, so if you’re interested in checking it out the link is down below!

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

Chapter Forty

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

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

#taking care of business #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #the child #baby yoda #bo katan kryze #the duchess #captain bombardier #commissioner helgait #axe woves #koska reeves #star wars

37 notes · View notes