#he's even from corellia!!!!

[archieimagines]

touching din | din djarin

Summary: The three times that Din bends his own rules and engages in physical touch. 

his primary love languages are acts of service and physical touch. i will die on this hill. i started this one just to indulge in the thoughts of touching his lovely face. it’s been in the works for a while and although i know it’s far from perfect, i’m glad that it finally gets to see the light of day! warnings: bad language, potential incoherence? idk i’m very tired but i hope you like it tags: plenty of fluff, plenty of indulgent, sfw touching, and then a good handful of angst. rollercoaster central. this takes place over a period of time, so part of it comes after finding out grogu’s name, which is why he’s referred to as many things! word count: 4650 written by: archie support me on ko-fi!

The travelling between planets would’ve been excruciating if not for your life partner and your adoptive child. The three of you made rather an unorthodox family. A runaway from Corellia, a Mandalorian and a… a sweet ball of green. An unorthodox family, indeed, but loving.

The Child chirped and bubbled away on your lap, apparently having a conversation with you while you sat in the pilot seat. You listened attentively, made agreeing noises at all the right moments, the lights of hyperspace travel filling the cabin with slow flashes. He really was so cute. You’d tell him it often, and you’d tell him that Din thought so too, even if he’d never say it. That much was obvious.

It was in the way he carried him, the way he protected him. The occasional pat to his head, or the quiet rub to his long ears as he slept. He wasn’t the type to openly say it, but it was clear, and that was what counted.

The Child reached out to the knob atop the gearstick, fingers wiggling.

“Baby, no. We have to always ask Din about the ship, hm?” You bounced him gently on your knee in an effort to ease the sad coos- but there was no need. A gloved hand reached around you, exposed fingertips closing on the ball. It was unscrewed and placed into the waiting green hands, content whirs and chatters soon filling the air.

The warmth in your chest grew into a smile as you dropped your head back, peering up at the helmeted man that stood just out of sight. “That’s a yes, then?”

A nod. “That’s a yes.”

“I didn’t hear you come up.”

He nudged his head to the Child, voice soft, “You were having an important conversation.”

And then he did what you loved.

He reached a slow hand out and stroked it over the top of your head, coming to a gentle hold at the nape of your neck, and leaned in. Your eyes fell closed as the cool beskar met between your brows, and you didn’t need to see him to know his eyes were closed too.

A beskar kiss.

You heard a soft sigh through his voice modulator. This was the way his people would show love. He made no move to break away, even from the awkward angle at which he leant. He savoured the moment, breathed with you, his thumb running back and forth over your skin. You weren’t sure if he could feel the goosebumps that his touch rose every time, his fingertips slipping into the lower roots of your hair.

He loved to touch you, you could tell. It wasn’t easy, and these moments were few and far between with his action-packed lifestyle, but the tenderness of these touches clearly meant so much to him. To you.

Without disturbing the occupied bundle on your lap, you reached for Din’s other hand. It hung by his side until you took it in your own, slowly raising it to place your kiss on the knuckles of his fingers. You kept it there a while, backs of his fingers to your lips, his helmet pressed to your forehead. The warmth of those digits filled a void left by the cold beskar. The warmth of human touch.

Long moments slipped by as you absorbed it until you became self-conscious. He hadn’t pulled away, but you weren’t even sure how he’d felt about it with his covered expression, so you let out a resigned sigh and lowered his hand.

But he surprised you.

His fingers opened up instead, laying delicately on the side of your jaw, his similar hold on the back of your neck still in place.

His thumb reached out to meet the corner of your lips, before tentatively, almost shyly, brushing over the centre of them.

He wanted more.

You were only too happy to oblige, lips raising into a delicate peak, placing a tender kiss to the pad of his thumb. Soon, he shifted, placing his index finger there instead. Then his middle. Each of his fingers tapped to your lips, and you made sure to place your affection on the tip of each one, giving in to the urge to smile.

He loved this.

You heard the tinned sound of a sigh before his fingers slipped away once again, soon followed by his reluctant leaning away.

He stood tall above where you sat, visor staying fixed on you. He was just looking. Just peaceful. You shone an easy smile, somehow both cosy and breathless from the moment.

His helmet turned towards the green being on your lap.

He blinked up at Din, and soon, a confused coo filled the cabin.

Din shrugged one shoulder. “You’ll get it when you’re older.” And with that, he settled back into the passenger seat, arms crossing over his chest. “Rest up,” he called, presumably to the pair of you. “We’ll touch down for fuel in six hours.”

Din’s bunk was the epitome of comfort. Cramped, yes. Warm, yes. Especially with two bodies. It’d easily become stuffy in there with the panel sealed while the pair of you shared his thin mattress, and you’d always wondered how he managed to keep his helmet on even in that environment. Or perhaps… He couldn’t feel the stuffiness because of the beskar. Or maybe… He was just always stuffy in there, used to closed air.

Your eyes raised from where you’d had them closed, cheek pressed to the chest of his flight suit to mimic sleep. Early mornings after a long, well-deserved sleep often came like this, and there was something so soul-healing about laying there to absorb his calm, peaceful presence before getting up for what would likely be another day of action.

Watching his visor for long moments, working out if he was still sleeping or looking back at you- it had become somewhat of a hobby. Sometimes, you had convinced yourself, if you looked hard enough, you could see the slightest shape beneath the vision slot of his helmet.

You weren’t sure if they were really there. But, in the dim light of the bunk, you could swear the bridge of his nose casted a shadow that caused a darker shadow inside the mask. His lashes were dark and long, and they fluttered slowly as his eyes closed in steady blinks, looking back at you with such leisure.

But then… Had you made that up?

You squinted, straining your eyes until you were sure— yes, you’d made it up. He was still sleeping.

But it didn’t hurt to imagine he had long lashes and a strong nose, perhaps even a strong brow to match. It didn’t hurt to imagine you could see the faintest outlines of the man you love.

Sated, you turned your cheek back to his chest, eyes falling closed to mimic his slumber. Or at least—

“Morning.”

— What you thought was slumber. 

His voice was groggy in the modulator; that intimate morning voice. Deeper, softer than usual.

It brought a smile to your lips. “Morning, my love. You were awake?”

“I have been for a while.” His arm tightened snug around your body in his hold, half atop his. “I like to watch you wake up.”

A soft laugh. “Not creepy, hm?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Silence lapsed with his low tone. All was quiet. Not the whirring of the ship, not the sounds of the forest he’d landed the Crest in the clearing of. Only the delicate air of his breathing inside his mask, catching in the voice modulator so quietly that ordinarily, you wouldn’t be able to hear it.

The thought stirred a deep intimacy in your chest. No one else would get to hear this. No one else would get to lay with him like this, press against his armour-free body like this. You splayed a hand over the cloth of his chest, toes wiggling from an uncontainable contentment with how your leg rested over his. Not an ounce of beskar between the two of you.

But yet… 

Gentle fingertips trailed upwards, over his upper chest, swirling delicate patterns in the creases of his fabric. Your eyes remained closed, focusing everything on him, the warmth that met your touch when you worked past the collar of the flight suit, meeting the skin of his neck.

It wasn’t the first time you’d touched him so. Of course, after this long together, you’d been intimate many a time-- You were both human, after all... But the helmet had always stayed on.

Your fingertips splayed over his throat, and it vibrated with his low hum.

It was no secret by now. He loved to be touched.

You could just imagine him there beneath the visor, eyes closed, brow relaxed. His face caught in a long moment of calm where it was often riddled with worry, or effort from the fighting. Bringing him such serenity like this was the least you could do for him, showing him that he’s loved. So, so loved.

Slowly, your touch crept just a little further up, seeking his jaw. But as your knuckles knocked the edge of his helmet, a gentle hand closed around your wrist in warning. He didn’t need to speak.

Your voice was the softest murmur. “I won’t take it off. Can I just- Feel you?”

He didn’t move, not for a while. You raised your eyes, peering up at him from where you were nestled in his chest, as if you could possibly read his facial expressions.

His hold eased, thumb lazily rubbing over your veins before letting go, and you found a buzz of warmth in your chest. He trusted you with his most precious boundary. Silently, you vowed to always protect that trust.

Delicate fingers worked upwards, feeling for hair from his chin. But, a soft gasp- There was no beard. The gentle prickle of cropped hairs caught your fingerprints as they swiped along his jaw, and you marvelled at it.

“You shave?” The words came out with a soft, amused breath of disbelief, eyes rounded in surprise. For some reason, it’d always made sense that he’d be bearded, long-haired. He had no reason to shave, knowing that no one would ever see, but now that you knew, it clicked.

Of course he’d shave. Din was a particularly thorough person, he was always driving himself forward to do a perfect job of his work: of course he’d take care of himself too.

“If it grows too long, it’s uncomfortable. Catches in the modulator.”

“Ah,” you hummed, brushing along the ridge of his jaw in the confined space. There was something about feeling his jaw move as he spoke, verifying that he really was human, really did have goings-on behind the mask that shielded him from the world. There wasn’t much room in there to move freely, only your fingers able to reach his face, but it was comfortable. You could feel the soft sway of his breath on your touch. “What colour is it?”

“Black. Brown, black.”

You hummed, eyes fixed on his visor lazily, though you weren’t really looking at him. You were visualising as you studied the contours of his lower face, mapping him out as best as you could in your mind, nails brushing through the stubble on his cheek. They trailed towards the corner of his lips, where you noticed the strands got longer. A moustache?

The smile that lifted your face was automatic, beaming at the realisation. You followed the direction of it, above his upper lip, soon finding a little sparse patch on his philtrum. Your eyes drifted closed, imagining the way it might feel to kiss him now that you knew this; how his facial hair would scratch your upper lip, your chin. Perhaps it would be almost sore on your skin if you kissed him long enough, hot enough--

His lips raised to press a real kiss to the centre of your fingers. Slow, shy, even a little clumsy.

A rich gasp pulled from your throat. It was electric to feel his lips on your skin, pressing the affection directly onto you, after these long years of going without.

You let your fingertips lower, finally feeling the shape of his lips, that subtle cupid’s bow as it raised into yet another peck, slow and tender against your touch. Your brows drew together, fighting the emotion that welled up in you, trying to make you cry. You weren’t all too sure why-- this was just- so much. It was so much, to feel him like this, to receive his first kisses like this. Something you’d never even imagined you could have.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured against your fingertips, tone almost a caress. His own fingers raised to brush at the corner of your eye. One must’ve slipped out.

You didn’t even know he was looking at you. Your lashes fluttered open, gaze meeting where you imagined his eyes would be. “I can’t help it,” you whispered. “You’re perfect.”

He’d lied to you. He’d massively, irrevocably, intentionally lied to you.

Your jaw ached from your grit teeth as you fought back angry fires in your heart, determined not to cry until you’d pulled your family safely off this forsaken, evil planet.

Din had been tasked with a mission of political undertones involving the spice market. He was masking as a bounty hunter to get information, so this time, the importance was in keeping the right people alive.

Of course, it didn’t work, and those people were now trying to kill you.

Your fingers trembled as you fought against the clock and the jolts of blasters firing at the ship to strap Grogu into his passenger seat. Your eyes were bleary, but you had to focus, secure him in safely. You wouldn’t take anyone’s safety for granted after this stupid stunt.

“Get her in the sky!” Din shouted up through the hatch, pushing his voice so loudly against the fighting and blasters below that it almost outgrew the modulator, his real voice peeking through. 

Grogu’s sweet eyes peered up at you, giving a questioning gurgle. The poor thing had no idea what was going on, was probably terrified by it all, and even your demeanour on top of it, but you didn’t have time to explain.

“We need to go!”

You buckled the baby in tightly and fought your emotions to ruffle a quick hand atop his head, hoping to soothe him even a small degree before falling into the pilot’s seat, specifically buckling yourself in, and jamming the engine on with jerky movements. 

The Crest resisted you, far too old and rickety by now to be good for quick getaways with a cold engine, but with some slow drags, turbulence from knocking through trees and extra laser blasts from below, she was finally in the air.

You heard the distinctive sound of fighting downstairs, someone being kicked off the ramp at an easy 400 feet altitude, and then the mechanical sound of the ship being closed off again. 

The ladder creaked with Din’s climbing, and you didn’t look back to him as he collapsed into the other passenger seat, not ready to talk to him yet. You were still seething, and wouldn’t engage with him until you’d pulled up safely out of the planet’s atmosphere.

Long moments of quiet dragged by. He knew you by now. He didn’t need to see more than the square set of your shoulders to know that he shouldn’t speak yet unless he wanted to upset you more. That, and you still didn’t look at him even as the minutes neared a full hour, focused on getting to the nearest hyperspace route.

He glanced to Grogu, who sat there blinking, clueless as he could be. He must’ve known something was going on, even if he didn’t know what exactly Din had done.

Din reached a gloved hand out, petting lightly on the green boy’s head. He still didn’t speak.

Eventually, your frustrated fires ebbed into a more containable state, you shifted the Crest into light speed, and unbuckled your belt with a heaved sigh. “Downstairs, Din.”

You stood, instructed Grogu not to touch a thing, headed down the hatch, and pointedly avoided looking at Din the whole time.

The body of the ship was chaos. Lazed burns in everything the three of you owned, strewn across the floor and torn from the struggle. Clearly, he’d really had to put up a fight. 

It was his own fault.

Boot on metal as he stepped onto the floor beside you. You finally looked at him.

You didn’t need to see his face to know he was exhausted. It was in the way he held himself, the way his arms just hung there by his sides, strong shoulders visibly slouched to the trained eye.

You reeled on him. “Why didn’t you let me in on it?”

Silence.

“Less of that, Din. Speak to me, I need to understand.”

There was a pause before his voice came. Firm, but gentle, as if pointedly trying to keep the peace. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then make me understand.” You pulled an upturned crate closer and planted yourself on it, trying to keep the buzz in your veins under control, but your tone was clipped nonetheless as you gestured to a crate nearby. “Go ahead, let’s hear it.”

He sighed and tugged the crate over, perched on the corner of it opposite you. His knees were parted and elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he thought through his facts. The best way to make you see that he’d done the right thing.

“I couldn’t tell you my true location because if you knew, your presence would have soiled the plan.”

“So you’re telling me I’m a hindrance.”

“No.”

“That’s certainly what it sounds like-”

“It needed full discretion to work. I’d told them-”

“I can keep fucking secrets, Din.”

“I know you can.”

“So you lied? Told me you were on the other side of town? How was I supposed to get to you if something went wrong?”

He sighed, his head dropping forwards in exasperation. “I told you to stay on the ship.”

“That’s not always possible. You know it’s not! Hunters still have fobs fixed onto Grogu, Din, there’s no escaping that!”

“I couldn’t have you interrupting or we’d all be dead. I’d told them I was alone- no, look at me.”

Your jaw was aching from how you grit your teeth as you forced yourself to look up at that visor, the weight of frustrated tears brimming at your waterline. You gave a small nod.

“Listen,” he started. “I’d told them I came alone. If you’d known my location, you would have interrupted.”

“To save your skin? Yeah, I would.”

“Exactly. We’d both be dead, and the hunters would take the kid.”

“You think I can take care of him without you? We don’t stand a chance without you around, Din.”

He paused. Quiet lapsed, and you had no idea what he was thinking. Sometimes, he really gave nothing away, and it was infuriating. He didn’t let you in. He would rarely open up to you about what was going on inside that beskar that hid everything from you. Everything.

Sometimes, you were sure you didn’t even know the man you were committed to. He held so much of the power in this setup. He knew everything about you, everything was done by his thinking, and yet he didn’t need to disclose much at all. He’d keep you in the dark about everything.

What he was feeling, what he was thinking… Hell, even when he smiled at you he kept it to himself. You’d grown to handle those, but this, actively lying to you. As if you couldn’t follow instructions. As if you couldn’t be trusted.

You sighed as the drops in your eyes welled up enough to fall over your cheeks. You pulled yourself off the crate and approached the ladder to the cabin, calling over your shoulder. “Go clean up or something,” you sniffled, “I need a minute away from you.”

The clang of footsteps behind you, a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey. Look at me.”

“I can’t, Din.”

“Why not?”

Such a simple question, such an impossible answer. You closed your eyes, struggling to pick out words that might illustrate what’s going on inside. The ache that sank your chest, that made your throat feel heavy with uncried frustrations. None of this was okay. Perhaps after you’d cooled down, you’d be able to see that mask as anything other than a barrier between you, that keeps him safe from your eyes. But for now, you couldn’t bare it. You scrambled to express it, but all you could let out was a strained “It hurts.”

Another moment of silence. Then, carefully, “What hurts?”

Clearly, he didn’t mean for his words to bring on the tidal wave of emotions and thoughts that you’d been keeping at bay.

“This, Din. All of this! Living in a ship, wondering if I’m gonna make it back in every time I step out of it, and not even being in on missions that risk your life! It’s like you’re cut off from me. Like we just live in the same space and I’m just there to entertain you. But it’s- it’s-!” You heaved a sigh, head buzzing with the force of the thoughts that were spilling out. They were so honest and raw from brewing for far too long. They must’ve been sharp as they came out, they must’ve hit him like a ton of bricks.

But of course, that damned beskar hid everything.

“It’s hard to be with a man who doesn’t trust me.”

For once, his voice rose. “I trust you more than anyone in the gal-!”

“You almost died because you didn’t trust me enough to let me in! You’d rather die than trust me!”

“That’s not how I-”

“That’s what your actions are telling me, Din. They always do. You never tell me what you’re thinking. I have to guess, but I can’t even read your fucking face. I live my life in question marks because you don’t even give me the option to-”

“You know I can’t show you my face.”

A deep breath left you, shaky and tired. So much pressure had alleviated in your head, like you’d finally emptied the contents of your mind onto a platter before him. And now that you could see it too, heard what you’d said, you felt almost ashamed for it.

Criticising the beskar was too far. That was his way of life, and had nothing to do with how he felt towards you. For sure, it was frustrating sometimes for you didn’t even know what your life partner looked like, but his culture was part of him. And you loved him.

“I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-- What are you doing?”

He reached by you to snatch some fabric from a nook, and he folded it into a long strip without so much as a word.

“I’m- I’m trying to apologise-”

“You don’t have to. How can you trust a man you can’t see, right? We’ve been together so long, and you still don’t know who I am.”

You were stunned beneath the guilt that crashed over you. He took your words in so deeply, and fed them back to you plainly. You could see how you must’ve hurt him, with sentiments like this.

Your eyes welled with tears again. Whatever had come over you had clearly wanted to hurt him, but that wasn’t you. Your thoughts were too chaotic to pinpoint, swarmed with hurt and pain that was only now built on by the fact that you’d treated him so terribly. You’d sworn to him long ago that you accepted his Mandalorian binds, loved them even, but you’d let them get in the way with one incident.

“Don’t cry,” he spoke, modulated voice gentle. “I’m- I’m understanding you.” A calloused thumb brushed along your outer lashes to pause any tears that wanted to fall. “Let me help.”

And there was darkness.

He tied his makeshift blindfold behind your head in a loose knot, keeping your eyes in darkness. “Din? What is this?”

He kept quiet, and you heard shifting, something being placed aside.

“Why do you never-”

You cut yourself off when his hands took your wrists and lifted them gently, until your palms splayed on his stubbled cheeks. He gave a long sigh, and you imagined he’d closed his eyes.

Your heart jolted. He was here before you, bare, no helmet. When he spoke, his voice rang out clear and pure, the true timbre of his voice without modulation.

“I said, I trust you more than anyone in the galaxy.” His face moved with his words beneath your touch. “I’d move planets for you.”

He left you breathless. You dove at the chance, fingers tracing over his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. It stood high and strong, just like you’d always imagined.

“This… This isn’t risky? I didn’t mean to offen-”

“You didn’t offend me. I know it’s hard, I feel it too.” He guided your hands to his lips, and he placed gentle kisses to your fingers.

The lump in your throat welled up again, your nose stinging from the tears that you tried to hold back. The thought of him struggling with his culture simply because he wanted to be close to you. “You do?”

“You know how many times I wanted to take it off? This seems… This is the best way. I’m not breaking any rules.”

You gave a watery, sniffly laugh. “This is the way?”

A hum of humour. “This is the way.”

You let your touch wander over his face, mapping it as well as you could. The curve of his eyelids, the strength of his browbone. He breathed softly, and you could feel the air on your palms as it pushed through.

You wove your fingertips into his hairline, pushing his locks back and bunching them up in your grasp behind his head. It was surprisingly long with unruly waves, and so, so soft.

He leaned in with a sigh until his forehead met yours, hands falling to their home on your waist.

And before you knew it, his lips were on yours. His warm, sweet lips fit perfectly against yours, and your head spun. It was so much, feeling him so close after nearly losing him, arguing with him, and your first kiss in the long years of being his. The first actual kiss.

He was unsure and clumsy in his affection, a little hesitant.

Clearly, this was his first one ever.

You let a hand trail to his jaw, guiding with a gentle touch. He soon settled in, became more confident in his kiss, even if it was still clumsy.

And it was perfect. The determined nibbles to your lips, the soft scratch of his moustache on your upper lip, the way he tugged you closer even as you were pressed against the ladder.

When it finally slowed to a stop, he murmured softly, so much closer than he’d ever been. The sound reached deep inside your mind to soothe your soul and make you crave more of his kiss. “I won’t ever treat you like that again. I’ll give you full disclosure of my missions, every single one. Alright?”

“Alright,” you agreed, breathless and flustered, “On one condition.”

“Hm?” He was clearly lost in this touch, so starved for so long, and it showed in his voice. He was utterly entranced with this new feeling, someone else’s fingers on his skin, words the last thing on his mind.

“We do this more often.”

A low laugh rumbled in his chest, nose nudging on the tip of yours. “Deal.”

#mandalorian imagine #mandalorian x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #mando imagine #mando x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #grogu #the child #star wars imagine #star wars #pedro pascal #written by archie

[grippingbeskar]

cutting it close | the mandalorian

mando x fem!reader

word count: 11.4k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (oral f receiving, mxf intercourse) swearing, canon typical violence, din clubbing deserves its own warning guys.

a/n: a labour of true love. i wrote half of this so long ago, but was inspired by an incredible source to continue.we are really living up the the user name in this one bc WE ARE GRIPPING BESKAR FOR REAL. shoutout to @everybirdfellsilent​ for being the BEST person to bounce ideas off, catching all of my grammar errors (there were many) and helping me figure out how someone whispers in a helmet. you are a real one and i love you!!!!! okay enjoy goodbye. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Are you sure he’s in there?” You ask the Mandalorian, who even through his helmet looks as uncomfortable as you are. He just holds up the tracking fob and it beeps rapidly, hardly making a sound over the thumping of the bass in the club in front of you.

“Guess so.” He yells over the sound. If you can barely hear him out here, you don't even want to imagine what it's like inside. The sound vibrates through the concrete and you can hear the high pitched sound of girls singing somewhere in the back, blue and red lights flicking out underneath the door you both stand in front of.

“I’ll go. You can wait out here. Your shiny head’s gonna reflect the light too much and give me a headache.” You go to take the tracker from him but he yanks it away. Rolling your eyes, he just leans and opens the door for you, and there's no point in arguing as you walk inside, the music instantly flooding your senses.

You have been helping Mando track down a couple of syndicate members while he was out on Corellia, promising to share the credits and take you off the planet if you showed him where they might be hiding. You have no loyalties here, and if you could get a free ride while also making those assholes pay for all the people they’ve fucked over, then you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t enjoy it.

The thump of the bass is annoying, only because you aren’t drunk. Usually you love this shit, and the packed dance floor stuffed with swaying bodies gives you a little bit of a rush as you remember all the good nights you’ve had here. Drinking till the sun comes up, meeting strangers and making them your best friends for a night, taking some lucky guy home with you only to kick him out the next morning, bored and hungover. It makes you smile to think about how your life used to be, free of responsibility, but as the Mandalorian comes up next to you, you are reminded of why you’re here.

“Where should we look?” He yells, and you pull him down by his shoulder so he can repeat it. He stiffens under your touch, but over the past couple days he’s started to get used to you putting your hands on him, you think. You think he’s probably been alone for most of his missions, so being around someone as outgoing as you; it’s probably a lot to take in

The Mandalorian has not, will not ever get used to the way you touch him. The first time you reached out for him, pulling his arm in the direction of some abandoned house, he nearly dropped to his knees at the way your fingers curled around his armor. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your hand on him, how your skin looked against the silver beskar, how your eyes bore holes in his helmet, like you could see him through all of it. He would never admit how he went back to the ship and jacked off like he never had before, only thinking about your hand gripping him, tighter and tighter. You wave your hand in front of his face, and he has to look around to get his bearings.

“Hey! I said through here. Come.” Your hand takes his, and he lets you lead him through the crowd. Once his brain swims back into his own head, he tightens his hand on yours, coming closer behind you as you shove your way through. It gets easier as you go further, people starting to move in the presence of his giant frame.

He doesn’t notice that, he doesn’t even notice where you're leading him, all thoughts and two eyes on your hand, gripping his, and he doesn’t think he will be able to get the image out of his head.

Threading through the last of the crowd, you have to knock a few people out of the entrance to the back, a couple making out looking up and giggling as they watch you lead a giant Mandalorian into the red rooms. The soft material of the curtain sends shivers up your arm as you pass through it, and you hear Mando behind you swatting at it, and the rip of material as some of it gets caught on his armor.

“Hey darlin’. Come back for more?” You hear a familiar voice and you roll your eyes at the sound of it. Shaun was an old friend, although friend was a very loose term. You hooked up once, extremely drunk, kissing in this very room for about three seconds before his girlfriend at the time came in and smacked the shit out of him.

“More of watching you get your ass beat by a girl?” He physically winces, and being the complete push over that he is, when he sees The Mandalorian trail behind you, he swallows hard and backs up a bit. “We need to go downstairs. My friend wants to pay a visit.”

“Come on. You kn-know I can’t.” Stepping forward, you hear the click of a blaster from behind you, and The Mandalorian takes perfect aim.

“You can. You will, too. Or he will make you.” You motion your head over your shoulder, and you can see the way he’s standing without turning your head, one leg slightly bent, casually waiting to shoot.

“They’ll kill me if I do.” He whispers and looks at the floor. You kick the cheap carpet out of the way and see a tiny sliver of light, a shadow crossing over it. The fob beeps from behind you, faster than before.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t.” Mando moved closer behind you, you could only tell because his voice got louder and you could see a little glint of beskar in the corner of your eye. You just put your hand out, and the key to the tiny lock on the trap door falls into your hand, Shaun stepping back. As soon as the lock clicks he bolts.

Coward.

Not like he’ll have anything to worry about once Mando goes down. You flip up the trap door as quietly as possible, and go to take the first step when a gloved hand falls on your shoulder.

“Stay up here. Keep watch.” He goes down first, and before you lose his head down the door you whisper to him.

“Be safe, okay?”

He freezes.

He can fight twenty guys at once, unarmed, and not even think about it, but the worried look in your eyes and your hand gently running across the side of his helmet makes every muscle in his body freeze. He manages a nod and you smile, closing the door over his head, and he lets out a very long sigh, trying to contain himself. He needs to focus, and the only way he can seem to do that is if he isn’t near you, so when your face disappears from view, he slips back into the zone.

He drops and finally hits solid ground, blaster fire immediately following. He hears the door above him swing open, seeing your hair whizz past his vision as you fold yourself into the tiny gap behind the stairs, shuffling along to get a vantage point above him. While watching you one of the men throws a punch against his armor. He wouldn’t have even felt it if he wasn’t looking, and it pissed him off so much that he just picks up the guy and smashes him down into the table, breaking it in two.

Watching the Mandalorian in his element, he moves easily through the men, hardly having to look when he fires a blaster or throws a punch. You shoot a couple heading out the back, not entirely sure which one he is after, but they deserved it anyways. These guys were notorious spice runners, but it wasn’t the drugs that made them bad, it was them selling it to young kids, telling them if they sell it all they will make them rich, and then forcing them to work out the debt when they inevitably don't come through. It was a fucked up system, one that you had been trying to take down for the past couple months, but having a giant beskar bounty hunter on your team was doing things now that would have taken you years alone.

Bodies start to pile up and pretty soon you notice the Mandalorian running out of guys to kill, so you shimmy back through the ladder and drop down. By the time you reach him, he’s cracking the skull of the last guy on the wall, his body sliding down leaving green blood in a trail. The tracking fob still beeps in the quiet of the room. You reach into the Mandalorians belt and pull it out, wandering around the room trying to get a better signal.

The Mandalorian can’t move. You didn’t even think twice, just shoved your hands in his belt, so dang close to where he’s pictured ever since he saw you. You’ve ignited something in him that he thought went dormant when he took the helm, but you; your hands, your confidence - he can’t hide the reaction you cause.

You try not to make a big deal out of it, try not to smile, to acknowledge the way he froze up under you. It's not possible, you and him. Even though you have thought about it many, many times. You don't even know how it would work; would he keep his armor on? Take those gloves off, the ones that sometimes slip up his hand and you see a sliver of tanned, real skin that sends your stomach crazy, and would he put his hands on you? You drag your eyes back to the fob in your hand, and when you lift it above your head it beeps wildly.

“How did he get past us?” You shake your head, because there’s no way he did. You were behind the stairs, and no one passed through the Mandalorians' brutal assault.

“Maybe he was never down here. I don’t know what he looks like. Guy’s a ghost.” The modulator thinks out loud, and you both look up at each other in realization, and a bit of shock on your part.

“There is no way.” It makes you laugh, because it's that unbelievable. “Shaun is a pussy. No way he could pull that off. He is not the guy we’re after. No. No way.”

“Where does that door lead to?” He’s referring to the door Shaun went out of, but you just turn and start up the ladder, still in some weird state of half shock and half amazement.

“Shaun. Fucking Shaun! You know this guy burnt his own eyebrows off because he was holding a blowtorch the wrong way?” The Mandalorian says nothing, but you just can’t believe it.

Shaun - the guy who cried when you told him he probably wasn’t going to be a Jedi was helping these syndicate guys run a child spice ring. You cannot believe this shit.

You ram the door Shaun fled into, and the pumping music instantly hits your chest, a hard bass line beating through the floor. You can feel the armor looming behind you, your ears tuning into the way Mando breathes even over the volume. Both of you take in the sight in front of you, the club is somehow ten times more busy, hardly giving you room to move. You scan the wave of people, darkness covering them and hands and bodies swaying way too fast to even see a face.

“I see him.” He says, and you look up to him. His arm comes over your shoulder, armor brushing lightly over the bare skin there. His hand is easy to follow, your focus deadly on the way his chest touches your back when he breathes in. Squinting, you see the unmistakable red hair bobbing through the crowd. “Can't get a clear shot. We need to move closer.”

“Follow me.” You pull him towards the crowd, but he doesn’t move.

“We’ll go around.” You look, both to your left and right, and see no way around, bodies just as thick to the walls as they are in the middle, and Shaun is moving further into the crowd.

“It’s too slow.” You pull him again to no avail.

“I’m not going in there.” He pulls you back to him, and your hand presses against his chest. You swear you can feel his heart beating under the thick layer of armor.

The Mandalorian has never felt so out of his element. The heat signatures of all the people around him are blown out in his helmet, the loud music blaring his senses, but that isn’t what's making him nervous. It's you, your hand on his chest, eyes wide and searching. He feels your look in his bones, like you're staring right at him, the real him. He swallows, and knows you can read him like a book.

“It's gonna be fine. You’re big and scary, they’ll move.” He doesn’t do anything, just stares at your mouth as you talk. “Are you like, claustrophobic?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“Not big on crowds.” You tilt your head up at him, and he knows you picked that up from him. You mirror him, the way he scans the room, the way you change your stance when you look at him, keeping one hand on your blaster whenever you're outnumbered. It makes his heart beat faster to think you notice him like that, and the blood rushes to every part of him that he needs to keep tame. Your eyes flick down quickly then back up to him.

“Hey, come on! I’ll hold your hand the whole time.” You can almost see him roll his eyes in that giant helmet.

“Not helping.” His head swivels towards Shaun who is moving fast through the crowd, his small frame allowing him to slide through easier.

“We’re gonna lose him, Mando.” You sigh. You aren’t forcing him, not pulling his arm and dragging him through the crowd, even though the guy you have been hunting for what feels like forever is escaping as you stand there.

“Fine.” The Mandalorian goes to step forward into the crowd, but hesitates. It’s something you’ve only seen him do a handful of times, and usually it means something bad - no, horrible and unexpected is about to happen, because if he hasn’t planned for something, you have no way in Hell to be ready for it- “It’s Din.”

It’s so quiet, if you weren’t so in tuned with his voice you would have missed it.

“What?” Eyes wide, you tilt your head all the way up, making an effort to stare exactly where his eyes might be.

“My name. It’s Din.” You swallow, all the words in your brain suddenly vanishing to make room for the most important one. “You’ve been around long enough. You should know it.”

Din.

Din.

Diiiiiiiin.

You go to speak, say something in reply, although you aren’t sure what words would equal the meaning of his confession. Maybe he really was claustrophobic, and you saying his name was some last ditch effort to focus elsewhere. You don’t get a chance to ask him though, it’s as if he senses you're about to speak and slips past you, entering the crowd, but not before your hand slips into his, fingers lacing in between his gloved ones.

He’s thankful for your guiding arm as all his years of training seem to vanish when you touch him for the fourth time tonight.

You weave through the bodies as best you can, trying to track Shaun’s head. The club is huge and there's people everywhere, music pounding and flashing lights only illuminating the tops of peoples bouncing heads. You can feel the gloved hand squeeze yours and you stop, the minuscule proof of reciprocation halting your movements. You can feel him step once more to come right up behind you, his helmet so close you can hear the modulator imitating his breath.

“He stopped. We’re being watched.” Your hands stay linked as you look around. The both of you were practically dead center in the crowd, and you can make out Shaun’s tiny head somewhere to your right, surrounded by significantly bigger guards. Shit. You go to move toward him, but the Mandalorian - Din - Din’s free hand grabs your hip and pulls you back, the movement catching you so surprised that you slam into him. “Guards are armed.”

“They’re gonna shoot the place up if we don't lose them.” All the guards surrounding Shaun have their hands on their blasters, and the more you look the more guards you notice.

“You know this place better. What’s our play?” He was still pressed up against you, and his hand was still on your hip. You could feel the vibration of the speaker's bass through your feet, and you tried to think of a way to lose the guards. They weren’t looking straight at you, more just in the general direction of the crowd. You were sure they knew Shaun was being chased, but with the dark lights of the club, they wouldn’t be able to make out faces. Or helmets, hopefully.

“Dance with me.”

Thank the Maker for the visor, because Din's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He was having a hard enough time concentrating on anything except the way you were so close to him, and how he was pretty sure his glove was touching a tiny part of your skin, so when you suggested moving of any kind, his first reaction was to deny, if only for his own self preservation.

“No.”

“Come on. I’m not asking you to bend me over; just, I don't know, move a little. We can get closer and lose them in the crowd. Before you know it we will be out the door with Shaun, and the guards won't even know we were there.” You were twisting slightly in his hold so you could speak in his ear, and he found himself sliding his hand further across your waist.

“Okay.” You nod up at him but don’t move for a second, waiting for him to relax. “Lead the way.”

You felt so warm. Maybe it was the nightclub, or maybe it was him. Probably him, the way you begin to sway your hips just a fraction to either side had him grinding his teeth to focus on literally anything else. You let your head come back a little to rest on his chest and your other hand was still locked with his own. He tried to think about the fifty armed guards that were going to shoot everyone in here if this plan didn’t work, but no amount of danger, no risk would pull his mind away from how your free hand came up behind his neck, and how his hand had found your opposite hip, his forearm strong and tight against your stomach.

You were more focused than you had been this entire time. Not on Shaun, or the guards, or moving towards the exit, but on grinding your hips just right so you could feel some part of Din underneath the armor. A name to the person you knew hid beneath. You pulled out your best moves, remembering every night you spent in this club before tonight. It’s like every guy was just a practice run, because none of them felt as good, as strong or as fucking big behind you as The Mandalorian. His arm was pulling you against his chest, and the way his fingers twitched every time your ass found his groin; that was all the encouragement you needed.

“You can move. I don’t mind.” You lean up to look at him before flicking your hair to the other side of your shoulder. He was stiff as a board behind you, and you presumed he didn’t do a lot of clubbing in his line of work, but if this was going to work he needed to at least pretend.

“I- I’m not sure I know how.” You smile up at him. You don’t laugh, although he thinks anyone else would, but instead your hand unwinds from his own and comes on top of the one across your stomach.

“You can do whatever you want to me.” Your eyelashes flutter up at him, and the lights flashing across your face did nothing to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks.

The music, however, covered the slight groan Din made when you said those words. His head dropped, wanting to hide his face even though you couldn’t see it.

Maker, does that work for him.

He copies you, moving in time with your hips, and every time you change direction he has to grip you tighter to make sure you don't stop. Keeping your arm over his you take a step to the right towards the target.

“This is okay?” His voice sounds deeper than usual, and it sends shivers down your spine.

“Good. It’s good.” Maker, he was going to lose his shit. All those nights he had imagined you, imagined what you might feel like against him, around him, none of that would have prepared him for the real thing. You were moving like water against him, fluid and free as you bent your knees a little, sliding down only an inch before coming back up and taking another step to the right. He sees a guard to his left, and moves before he can think, protecting you becoming a sixth sense.

He spins, switching sides with you, and as he does so his hold comes around to your back. You were now face to face, his arm still holding you just as tight against his front, and your arm was hung around his neck, pulling him down closer to your face.

“Guard moved.” He justifies, and you can’t help but smile.

“Who knew The Mandalorian had moves?” He laughs a little and you can feel him relax, the arm around your back finding a more comfortable position to rest just above your ass. “Did they teach you ballet on Mandalore, too?”

“Very funny. I told you I don’t know what I’m doing.” You roll your eyes and both of you take another step towards Shaun, dancing bodies pressing you both closer together.

“You’re doing fine.” Fine was an understatement. For someone who claims they don’t dance, he matches every one of your moves perfectly, and it even starts to feel good; better than it ever did with any of those slimy dudes you danced with before.

“Yeah?” He breathes, dropping his head next to yours to scan the crowd behind you. You lose all power for a second, only being able to focus on how he was holding you and whispering as best he could in your ear.

“Mhmm. Very fine.” He laughs against you again, and leads you another step into the crowd.

Din was putting everything he had into not losing all composure right here. The fact that he could see your heat signature through his helmet wasn’t helping. He knew what yours usually looked like, he had spent enough time staring at you to picture it, so when he dropped his eyes and could see your stomach and chest burning red ever since he pulled you against him, his hold on himself became looser and looser.

“How are we doing?” You have to constantly blink to remind yourself why you are both here. He moves his hips against you and you shiver, the feeling of him moving against you too good to hide.

“Still too far.” Your back was to the target, so he had to keep an eye on him. He didn’t want to, didn’t give a shit about the target or the money or the beeping tracking fob. All he wanted was to stay here, with you dancing on him. Your forehead drops to rest on his chest. The music starts to pick up and so does your hips, naturally swaying to the beat.

“S-slow down.” Din stutters. Actually stutters. His voice is slow and crackly when he whispers in your ear. “Can’t think.”

“Why’s that?” The energy of the club disappears, and it's just you and him, occasional blue and red flashes lighting up his helmet.

“We have to focus.” You keep dancing, not wanting this moment to end. He feels so good against you, the cool armor against your hot skin electrifying every movement.

“Worried you can’t handle it, big guy?” You smirk up at him and pull his helmet closer, linking your arms around the back of his neck.

He’s slipping. Too far gone; with your hands around his neck and your hips swaying like that, right against him, there’s no looking back now.

“I can handle it.” You swallow hard at his voice that is now full of confidence, the one he uses when he talks to a target.

“Guess we’ll find out.” His arm at the back of you tightens, and you both realize at the same time what line you are crossing. There's no doubt that either of you haven’t thought about it, it’s all he has thought about since he met you, but it was all too confusing, too much all of a sudden. He has no idea how to handle you, handle whatever it is that you made him feel, but with you in the dark atmosphere of this club and the way you were moving, he can think of nothing else.

Both moving with the music, you start to dance less and grind more, finding a better pace to feel more of him against you. Both of his hands are on you now, one drawing explorative lines up your side while the other holds you to him.

“Guards are coming through the crowd.” His tone becomes a little more serious as the danger suddenly becomes unavoidable. You sneak a quick glance, and you can see them all, pushing people out of the way clearly looking for someone in particular, the shiny head of his helmet practically a beacon. It was so dark you couldn’t make out their faces, let alone Shaun’s or even Din who stared right at you, the guards only obvious because they were the only ones not dancing.

“You need to blend in. Or hide.” You whisper, still trying to act natural and ignore the slight hardness you can feel under your movements. “They’re going to kill everyone in here if they start shooting.”

The club was packed, and syndicate members aren’t exactly known for their conflict resolution, so both of you had no doubt they would shoot their way through innocent people just to minimize risk.

The Mandalorian had two options. He either let everyone in here take the risk of getting shot in the inevitable bloodbath that was going to happen when the guards got close enough to see him, which they only would be able to do because of how reflective his armor was.

Or, he could lean into the very bad second option which had a lot less risk for everyone else, but risked everything he had built for the last 20 years.

Even in the helmet he could only see your face, the darkness blurred everyone around him except how your pretty eyes were staring up at him, letting your hair fall over your shoulders. He couldn’t help but think how soft it would feel in his fingers. He could see your mouth, and how you held your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes glancing around trying to gage how much time you have before he gets you both killed.

“We need to move. They’re going to kill them.” You say, and it’s only because you finally stopped your torturous movement that he can think clearly for a second, or maybe not so clearly considering what he was about to do.

“I have an idea.” Comes through the modulator, and you're half surprised he’s still in there considering how quiet he’s been.

“Cutting it a bit close.”

“Do you trust me?” A gloved hand comes up to your cheek and your eyes fall on him. The glint of the beskar catches the eye of a guard and you can see them coming your way to investigate, caving you in to him at all angles. You lean up on your toes, getting as close to him as possible to make sure no one can hear your answer.

“I trust you, Din.”

“Good.” The hiss of an armor seal, the sound of something hitting the floor and a flash of brown curls under blue light are the last things you remember before his lips found yours.

They were soft. Surprisingly soft. He moved slowly, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do now that he had found you. There was something so intimate about how slowly he kissed you, nothing but his lips moving against yours, only taking what you give him. You were caught so off guard you aren’t sure you moved in the first few seconds, but as soon as the realization of what was happening washed over you, you gave him everything you had.

One of your hands found his hair, slightly damp from sweat and the other pulled at his neck as if he could get any closer to you. You deepened the kiss, sliding your tongue into his mouth to show him just how okay you are with this, and he responds immediately. All of a sudden what was once a distraction kiss becomes something much more wild, more desperate and much more fitting for the feelings you both have for each other. For a second, you break apart, and its enough for you to utter the only word, the only name you will ever think of again. “Din.” You kiss the name onto his lips before he takes over again, the two of you practically becoming one.

He thinks he’s died and gone straight to hell, hearing you whisper his name. His real name. It’s unlike anything he’s experienced before. You taste sweet, like sugar, and your mouth moves on his like it’s never done anything else. He pulls you tighter, grabs at your hip while the other holds your face to his, using it to obscure himself to everyone but you. He is very aware of how wrong this is, but your teeth bite his bottom lip ever so slightly before sliding your tongue back in his mouth and he suddenly doesn’t care. He is hidden from everyone in the club by the darkness and fog, most of them too drunk or too absorbed in their own lives to notice him, which is exactly what the guards have blended you both in with as they begin to fan out around you. Just another couple kissing in the sea of dancing bodies.

He knows the guards pass as soon as he hears the clicks of blasters in holsters behind him. The threat is eliminated, passed, so why hasn’t he put his helmet back on? Why hasn’t he ripped his mouth away from you?

Every second you kiss him back makes it harder for him to think logically, and when you moan into his hard grip on your back and arch into him he doesn’t think he will ever be able to stop.

You feel the guard brush past you, but Din is kissing you so hard, so fervently that you don’t think you could deny him anything if he asked you right now, so you make no move to pull away, to slow down.

“Fuck.” His voice is just as low out of the modulator, and you feel your legs go weak at the sound of it. You made him say that, you affected him. Just like he affects you. You can feel his skin, a slight stubble around his cheeks, his hair longer than you would have thought, and it’s curly in your hands which for some reason makes him ten times hotter. You want more than anything to pull away and stare at him, take in the image of him, knowing no one will see it but you. But you don’t, and you just let him kiss you until neither of you can breathe, and then a little longer.

When he pulls away you expect him to cover up fast, and you keep your eyes closed not wanting to betray his trust in a futile moment. However, he just rests his forehead against yours, and you can feel the slightly clammy skin of his face against yours. You are both panting for air in the small space between you, and he breaks the silence first.

“They’re gone. Shaun too.” You mentally curse, but you're having trouble being upset at all at this moment, the overwhelming feeling of him is still flooded throughout your body, leaving no room for anything or anyone else.

“That was…”

“A good distraction?” His breath is warm on your face and you are so scared to move because then you won’t be able to kiss him again.

“I was going to say ‘fucking amazing’ but yeah, that too.” He laughs for just you, and you don’t think you will ever get tired of hearing that.

“Now who can’t handle it?” You laugh as he teases you, and nearly roll your eyes until you remember you can’t open them. You put your hand over your face. “What are you doing?”

“In case I see. When you put the…” your foot nudges the beskar helmet on the ground and you feel him nod against you.

“Right.” He forgot everything, forgot the creed he committed his entire life to, and that was only a fucking kiss. He leant down and picked up the helmet, shoving it back on.

It was the first time he resented having to wear it.

Your eyes open and find the black visor staring back at you. You smile up at him and start to sway your hips, placing your hands on his side and resting your face in the crook of his neck.

“Can we pretend a little longer?” You mumble into his shirt at his neck, and he stiffens slightly. You feel a hand adjust his pants before it finds the back of your head.

“I wasn’t pretending.”

“Me either.” The lights start to slow around you, blue and red no longer coming in flashes but waves, and you look up at him.

“Come with me.” He says it half as a question, half a command and his hand intertwines with yours again.

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere.” You laugh and lean back, leading him towards the exit before you turn around and start squeezing through bodies. He follows close behind, keeping watch for any remaining guards or any ideas for where Shaun might have gotten to. Soon the cool night winds it’s way over your skin and you shiver, the Mandalorian coming right up behind you and guiding you away.

“I didn’t see where he went. Do you have anything?” You look up but he’s not focused on searching, his eyes are set in one direction.

“Track him tomorrow.”

“But what abo-“

“Do you know how many nights I’ve waited to touch you?” Your eyes widen, and you have no words. He’s stopped walking in the middle of the street, but it’s late and dark so no one else is around to witness. You shake your head. “Any idea how many nights I thought about you? Dreamt of you?” Again, you shake your head.

“What did I do? In your dreams?” You breathe, the foggy night steaming a cloud over his helmet as he leans in close.

“I’m going to show you. If you let me.” He tugs on your hand, gentle enough to let you pull away, but you grab his wrist tight and make sure the hold doesn’t break.

“Show me.” He’s too focused on getting where he wants to go that he doesn’t stop immediately. “Din. Please.” He pulls you against him and starts walking a little slower.

“You said that; in my dream.”

“What? Show me?” He shakes his head.

“Please.”

“I say that all the time. I have great manners.”

“Not the way I’m thinking, cyar’ika.” Your heart flutters at the name, and the way he says it, how it vibrates through his chest and reaches into your own. You round a corner and his ship comes into view.

“Guess you’ll have to demonstrate.” The hand on your lower back drops and rests on your ass, giving it a little squeeze that makes you jump into him.

“I plan on it.” Your breath catches in your throat and suddenly you're moving at an almost inhuman pace, jogging to try and keep up with his giant steps. You can hear the passing voices of people heading home for the night, and you wonder where you would have ended up had you not lost Shaun tonight.

Realistically, if you had told your past self you would leave without the bounty tonight, she probably would have slapped you. Right now, though, as the Razor Crest comes into view, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect ending.

Or a more anticipated one. He moves like a predator - fast, swift and with purpose, having the ramp of the Crest already opening by the time you round the corner, hand still entangled tightly with his own.

You were high on adrenaline, the events of just minutes ago still fogging your brain, but your concentration had nowhere else to be but right here, as the soft lights of Corellia disappeared behind the closing ramp. You let out a shuddering breath as Din steps toward you. You can hardly see him, going off your other senses to gauge exactly where he is.

You can smell him. You feel strange, inhaling deeply in the almost pitch black of the hull, but you think it might be your favorite smell. It reminds you of safety, a little hint of vanilla mixed with cedar wood, a result of the single, half empty bottle of all-in-one soap you once glimpsed in the corner of his refresher. You don’t hear him step behind you, but the smallest hint of air brushes over your shoulder, and the scent overwhelms you.

You turn around, exceedingly eager. Your chest practically slams into him, and it’s only when you settle your hands on his ribcage you hear how fast you were breathing.

“Relax. It’s just me.” You let out a soft laugh, trying to hide your nerves.

“That’s kind of the problem.” You say and instantly feel him move back.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” You want to slam your head against the wall. Of course he would be sweet, and kind, exactly the kind of guy you always want but never find yourself going for. Willing some of that confidence from the club to miraculously appear, you blindly reach out, playing to pull him back to you, and yank the first part of armor you find.

You wouldn’t call it a squeak, exactly. You don’t think that it would be possible for Din to emit a sound like that, but something breathy and surprising cracks the silence in the ship as you pull him forward. Your hand had slipped right over the ridge of his breastplate, finding the one weak spot on his armor even in the dark. You could feel him swallow against the back of your knuckles.

“I want…” Two hands rest lightly on your body. One is on your hip, his thumb running small lines up and over the curve of it, and the other rests on your cheek. His skin - exposed, and against yours, is rough as his fingers begin to thread into your hair. The heel of his palm takes up most of your cheek, and a wave of warmth rushes through every part he touches.

“What do you want, cyar’ika?” Even though it’s pitch black, your eyes flutter shut at the beautiful jumble of words. You recognise the language, only because you’ve heard Din say a few words here and there during hunts, but mainly only the swear words. Now, the language sounds like a dream, and it doesn’t really matter what it means, only that he’s saying it to you, and it almost sounds like a compliment.

“I want you, Din.” You feel the hand in your hair tighten slightly, flex and thread further towards the back of your head. The hand on your hip leaves only for a second, and in the next moment a loud clang on the ground has you almost jumping into Din’s arms.

“Sorry.” He laughs, and your heart stops. His voice is perfectly clear. Handsome. Can a voice be handsome? You keep your eyes closed, afraid to break the spell of whatever magic must be enchanting you right now. “Come here.”

You don’t get a chance to fully appreciate the sound of him, without his helmet for the second time tonight, but when his lips gently press against yours, you get lost in him. You’ll have him talking soon enough. Emboldened by how tentative he moves against you, your hands slip out from underneath his breastplate and into his hair. Your eyes squeeze shut tighter at the feeling, and your fingers get tangled in the slightly damp mess of curls. It was longer than you imagined, and soft. So, so soft. Maybe that all-in-one soap needed a little more credit.

When you use the new hold you have on him to pull him closer, he groans into your mouth. The sound has you sighing in content, and you drag your fingertips over his scalp, massaging the sound out of him again. The hand on your hip slides up to your lower back, holding you against him, tight. Everything comes rushing back, the music that was flowing around you minutes ago, the energy of the club, the way Din was letting himself feel you without hesitation. You move against him, and his hands drop from your face to just under your ass, and in one go he has you up in his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his back.

He takes a single step and makes the distance from the center of the hull, pushing you up against the wall. The cold metal is hard against your back, but so is the unyielding hold of his armor on your front, and it immobilizes you in the best way. His hands, unrestrained by the gloves he usually wears, begin to massage just under your ass, fingers spreading out along the fabric covered skin. His teeth lightly graze on your bottom lip, and the movement has you gasping and chasing his mouth when he pulls back.

“So many people in that damn club.” He grumbles, blessing you with another light kiss before dragging the soft skin of his lips down to your jawline. His tongue darts out only slightly, tasting you. Some small part of your brain that is still able to process words reminds you of how reluctant he was when you all but forced him into the crowd.

“I didn’t mean t-to make you go in - fuck, Din.” He finds a spot just under your ear, biting and kissing while you attempt to form a sentence.

“Not what I mean.” His curls tickle the underside of your chin as he dips his head, kissing the front of your throat. Something about it feels like surrender, and you are more than happy to give in to it. “Wanted you all to myself.”

“You could of fucking had me months ago.” It comes out a little more aggressive than you planned, but it’s painfully true. All it would have taken was one word from him, and you would have given him whatever he wanted. It pissed you off to think of all the wasted time, especially when it might be coming to an end once you tracked down the final bounty. Your words make him stutter, his hair brushing your cheek before his forehead rests on your own.

“Really?” You can hear his smile through his words, and it makes your heartbeat a little faster just imagining it.

“Best bounty hunter in the galaxy, but can’t pick up a single hint, huh?” You slide your arms around his neck, one hand pulling him back to your mouth. He lets you lead, melting into your touch as your hand starts to massage the thick muscles at the base of his neck. He moans, and you can feel the effect of the small sound under your clothes, so you track it down again, repeating the motion. He was still wearing his full armor except the gloves and helmet, so you did your best to relax his neck and shoulders the best you could reach. He rewards the movement with those same sweet sounds, taking your full weight by holding you in his forearms.

“Maker, you- you feel so fucking good.” You start to roll your hips against him, and from this angle you can feel him, hard and big under that damn armor.

“Feels better without my clothes on.” You arch your neck to whisper in his ear, leaving soft kisses along his cheek before returning to his lips.

His restraint doesn’t last long, not that he really had much. He was planning to take this slow - for you as much as for himself. He knew you hadn’t gone out like you used to since you met him; bounty hunting tended to involve a whole lot of late nights and early mornings. Of course, he was glad you weren’t taking any men into your bed while he was around, but he knew it was something you were… experienced at. It had been a while for him, so when he knew the feelings he was having weren’t just physical, he was really shooting in the dark for a chance with you at the best of times.

Now it was here, he was going to make it good.

So good that you never thought about anyone, ever again. He was going to consume you, just as you had consumed him.

Everything changes suddenly. Like neither of you expect it. Din slides you out of his arms, and on your way down, his fingers hook under the flimsy material of your shirt. It sits just above your jeans, exposing a small line of skin that Din’s fingertips currently graze against. There’s nothing you can do to hide the goosebumps that prickle your skin. He seems to stop; waiting for you to shove him away. Waiting for some kind of sign that he is reading this wrong, that he must be.

You drop your hands to his own and, following your lead, he takes your shirt off and throws it somewhere in the darkness.

“Your turn.” You whisper, and your hands come up to his neck, pulling at the fabric that covers him. He still isn’t used to the way you touch him, and if this keeps up, he’s pretty sure he never will be.

It’s a meticulous process - taking off his armor. He can do it with his eyes closed, but it still takes a while. You don’t seem to mind, though. Piece by piece, he sheds the armor away, letting it clatter to the floor around you with little care. Your hands hover over the tops of his, learning, and soon you take initiative by following his actions, repeating the steps on his opposite side.

He doesn’t think he will ever want to take his armor off in any other way.

Your fingers are more delicate, where his own rip and tug at the connectors, your own untangle. Where he shrugs it off, shaking his arm to let the plate tumble to the floor, your hands are feather light as you slide the remaining beskar, and he closes his eyes, content to just feel as you complete the job. Soon enough, he’s standing in front of you in less clothes than he’s ever worn in front of another person.

Any other time, he’s fully clothed, armor only shifted in necessary places. He’s never wanted to be felt, never wanted someone’s hands on him, but after feeling you so close tonight, he doesn’t think he could go another second without it.

You blindly reach out to his face, the dark still keeping his creed intact. He lets your fingertips dance along the ridge of his nose, before you grab his face and pull, locking him into a kiss.

This one is different. Where the others have been full of sweetness, this one is needy. Hungry. Clearly, the process of removing his armor had a similar effect on you, because in the next few seconds he feels you whipping his shirt off, only disconnecting from his mouth for a moment before coming back to him, hands exploring his chest.

He felt big. Of course he was fucking huge, but having him half naked, feeling that broad chest under your palms, you almost forgot how giant he really was. It sent waves of need straight to your core, and you wasted little time tugging at the seams of his pants. If these were just as complicated as his armor was, you think you might collapse before he even-

In one pull, his pants go sliding off, and you feel how fast they drop under the weight of his armor. It makes a loud ‘clang’ as it hits the floor, and even though you can only think of what the sight in front of you must look like, you have to stifle a laugh at how easy it was to take them off.

“Easy access.” Din hums as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, bringing your attention back to him. He drags his teeth along the sensitive skin, and when you arch your back, you feel him. It’s impossible not to, the hard length pressing against your lower stomach, and it sends the butterflies already flying around in your stomach raving mad.

“Please, Din. I need you.” You hear him sigh at your words.

“You sound more perfect than I imagined.” You could feel how hot your face was, even your ears were burning. Before tonight, you could probably count the amount of words he had said on one hand. There was something about hearing him unfiltered, talking like that.

You let out a whimper at the words, and he starts to undo your jeans, finally taking the fucking hint.

“You like it when I talk like that? Tell you how sweet you sound saying my name?”

“Stars- yes. Please.” You shove your jeans down and step out of them, and Din leads you away from the pile of armor and clothes. You have lost all sense of direction, trusting him not to run you into anything. When he stops you, you feel yourself being pressed into an oddly shaped wall. A door? No - the rungs of the ladder leading up to the cockpit stripe against your bare back, and Din helps you sit up on one, taking the weight off your feet.

“Mesh’la, cyar’ika. Sit there and look pretty for me.” You were about to argue that he couldn’t see anything through the dark, but maybe his eyes were better adjusted. Maybe, from all his late nights spent hunting, he could see just a little bit better that you could in the dark. Maybe he truly couldn’t see you, and was just talking to indulge you, but the idea of him still being hidden, while he could see all of you made you start to fidget, almost whining at his lack of touch.

That was, until you heard him drop onto the floor, the wide stretch of his shoulders pushing your knees further apart, and his hands gently adjusting your calves to sit just above his collarbones.

Din could see. Years spent training to look for things no human would look for, scanning through shitty terrain and the helmet adjusting the light, his eyes had become just that much more in tune with the dark. So, while he couldn’t see every stunning curve of your hip, or the way your hair fell over your shoulders, he could see. He could see you, spread out in front of him, hands buried in his hair in anticipation, and it was too damn beautiful to deny.

“Mesh’la.” He repeats against the skin of your inner thigh, before sliding his hands up. He keeps kissing the trail his hands made, and slides his palms under either side of your panties, carefully placing them just outside of where he could see you were wanting him. “Is this okay?”

“I wanna feel you on me, Din. Please.” As much as his words sent you spinning, you knew you had that same effect on him. Din practically rips off your panties, and with a final mumble of incoherent Mando’a, he lets his tongue slide against your pussy, the first contact already having you moaning out his name.

“That’s it. Be as loud as you want. No one can hear you but me.” He never gives you rest, when he speaks he is methodical, making sure his hands keep that tortuous pace. Not so fast where you would tumble over the edge in seconds, although the way he lets his tongue work just around that sensitive bundle of nerves has you thinking he could make you finish in a moment's notice. He doesn’t, though; working you up in slow, gentle strokes that have you seeing more stars than you’ve ever seen in the galaxy.

One of his fingers slides inside of you, and you nearly jump off the ladder in pleasure.

“Oh- f-fuck Din faster.” You almost sob, the pace still so slow and grinding. He is seemingly lost in his own mind - soft vibrations sparking up your body as he hums in content against you. Occasionally, he will mumble a word or two, but they are lost in your own moans of pleasure.

Legs shaking, your hands start to pull a little harder against his scalp, and it surely hurts at least a little. Moving your hips against his face, you feel him smirk against your core, and the desperate movements of your body at least seem to encourage him. You feel like you’re in space - floating in no gravity as Din’s tongue flicks against your clit before he takes it into his mouth and he speeds up the movement of his hand all at once. It’s too much and not enough, and your thighs clamp down on either side of his head as your body is sent into overdrive.

His free arm snakes around the back of the ladder, holding you to him so you have nowhere to go,  nothing else to do except exactly what he said - sit there and look pretty. You can’t hold your head up anymore, your body starting to tense as every nerve is set alight. You know it’s coming, but as he pushes you to the edge, the intensity of the incoming pleasure was nothing like you had ever felt.

“D-Dinnn shit I think I’m- oh fu-ck!” Everything lights up as he moans against you, the sensation the last thing you can recall as your body floods with the intensity of your orgasm. Your hands scrunch up in his hair, and you could swear your bones turn to jelly as the feeling racks through your entire being. No one in the galaxy has ever - could ever make you feel like this, but Din does. Din is.

It feels like hours and seconds pass at the same time, Dins mouth slowing its assault as he starts to press sweet kisses to any other expanse of skin he can reach in this position. He coaxes you through as your body reacts to the light touches, humming against your skin and smiling every time you suck in a sharp breath as he edges closer back to your center, before heading in another direction. The game brings your body back together, and fairly soon your fidgeting on the rung of the ladder, desperate to feel more of him against you, but unable to hold anything but his soft hair.

It really was soft.

You start to massage soothing circles into the top of his head as an apology for your tight grip, and he finally relents, tongue tracing a final line over your heated core.

“Jatisyc.” You hear him growl, voice gravelly as he stands. You can feel how tall he is, looming over you even if you can’t see him. You can feel it.

He helps you stand, your legs still shaking slightly, and he guides you over to a corner of the ship before a door opens. You don’t think you’ve been in this section of the ship before, and if you’ve ever spent more than twenty four hours here, you have just slept in a pile of blankets on the floor. He continues to guide you into the room, and the back of your legs hit a metal pole before he stops.

“Lie down.” He kisses your forehead before gently nudging you, and a surprised gasp leaves your mouth at the soft comforter underneath you. A bed. Small, you realize as you slide further back, knees bending to push yourself to the wall it rested on. Clearly made for one, you try to minimize the space you take up as two thick legs box you in on either side. His warmth covers your entire body as he drops his weight down, closing the space and reconnecting his mouth to your own. On instinct, you wrap your legs around his back, pulling his hips down towards the bed, and you can finally feel him against you. Only the thin layer of his briefs separate you but it’s too much - hands creeping down his body and tugging on the waistband, the sound of Din shuddering a breath in your mouth making you act faster. Tugging and shifting on the tiny mattress, you both try your best to stay as close as possible while removing the last layer of clothes.

“Baby - wait, hold on.” He starts to laugh, and the sound is the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard. He bends down, kicking the clothes to the side somewhere, still laughing at the weird angle you’ve both somehow tangled yourselves in. It’s almost strange - the sound is so unlike the hardened bounty hunter you had tried your best to get used to over the past few months, but it suits him. Hearing him like this, you have no idea how you will be able to stand having him tucked away in that helmet again. You decide, then, that he is taking way too long, and you are not close enough.

“Din.” He turns back to you, finally repositioning so he is between your legs. As he drags his mouth up the length of your body, he lays kisses on the skin open to him, which is all of it. All of you, laid out in the darkness of what must be his room. It smells like him, and with the lack of sight you can imagine he was all around you. His hair brushes against your chest, and your breath hitches in anticipation of him getting closer. “Please.”

“Just like in my dreams.” He mumbles. He doesn’t kiss you just yet. He just hovers, watching with a hunters focus as he lines himself up with you. He could feel how wet you were - like you were just waiting for him. Waiting for him, like he had been waiting for you. Your fingers run soft lines up and down his chest, and his hands fist in the sheets. Even here, at the edge of the most intimate act he could think of, he still wasn’t used to how you touched him.

As he slowly pushed himself into you, you both mimic the sound of ultimate relief. It was achingly slow, the rock of Din’s hips measured with control only he could execute, and before he had driven into you fully, you were already moaning out his name.

“Fuck, Din.” Everytime you say his name, he groans, similar to what you’ve heard when he’s fighting. Like it’s just on that border of pleasure that it’s almost painful, and with your hands bracing on his biceps, you can feel the tense in his shoulders. It’s an entire body experience, calling him by his name, and if that’s what gets him to move fast, you would chant it like a prayer.

“Th-shit. This is okay?” He says in that same low voice you recognise from the club. Practically clinging to him, you shake your head yes in the darkness, hoping to the Maker he doesn’t stop. His forehead is pressing into your own, soft lips dragging against yours as he bottoms out, driving up into a part of yourself you aren’t sure you knew you had.

You cry out, and it’s clearly what he was looking for, because he drags his length all the way out to the tip, and then enters you again, setting a mind numbing pace. You can hear the weak legs of the bed shifting against the hard floor of the ship as he fucks you, hard and slow.

“Fuck, cyar’ika. Feel so fucking good around me.” He gets a little rougher, losing himself in you, speaking through the small gaps of silence when you suck in a breath, only to continue calling out his name in pure ecstasy. There was no boy - no shitty fuck from the club that felt like this. It’s like you were on another planet - in another realm, the sounds he made as he grinded himself into you sending you hurtling in all directions.

“Holy shit-” You gasp, feeling one of his large hands trail down to rub small, tight circles on your clit. Your back arches, pressing your skin to his, and he’s like a heater in the cold of the ship, only making you seek him out more. “Oh-my Din.”

“Yours.” It takes you a second, your eyes screwed shut and your entire body only existing for him, but he says the simple word, and everything freezes. You had said it first. ‘My Din’. Maybe it was on accident, losing the rest of the sentence in the way he was fucking you into the mattress, but you know it wasn’t. Even half lidded, on the edge of your high, you knew it wasn’t a mistake. He wasn’t either.

Yours.

Your Din.

“Mine.” You tug his mouth back to you, teeth latching on to his bottom lip while your fingernails scratch along his toned back. He chokes out a sound just desperate enough to make known that he likes it, so you do it again. You know it’s leaving marks, and he does too. He picks up speed, chasing his own high and his free hand grips onto your hip tight enough to leave the shape of his hold in its wake. You mark him. He marks you.

Yours.

Mine.

“Din please, don’t fucking stop.” Your eyes were closed so tight it screws up your whole face, and even though he hasn’t told you not to look, you can’t bring yourself to throw his trust out the window. Even if your eyes did open, you wouldn’t see him through the dark, and you are pretty sure your eyes would be crossed and glazed over with the zaps of electric pleasure shooting up into your chest.

“Never gonna- shit. Never gonna stop.” Your body shivers in response, and you can feel the coil tightening in your lower stomach. “Gonna keep you on this ship forever. Fuck you every day.”

Maybe it’s the idea of it. Maybe it’s the realization that he could. If he wanted to. It’s mainly the realization that you want him to that snaps that tight coil and sends you all the way over the edge. You feel his hand leave your hip and curl around your back, holding your weight in one strong forearm, he keeps fucking you through your high, using it to reach his own. With a loud growl of your name he follows you, and you feel him pull out at the last second, warmth spreading across your inner thigh.

You were lost in the dark, unsure of where your body started and his ended. Limbs were tangled together, and you feel him sit back on his knees, heaving deep breaths and staring at you. It almost burns, the knowledge of his gaze. Of the sight he must be looking at - of you strung out, covered in the evidence of what he just did. Of what he just did to you. It’s almost enough to make you cum again, just to please him.

You feel him lean over, quickly grabbing whatever fabric was closest and wiping you clean, before proceeding to flop his entire body weight down next to you, and half on top of you. With an exhausted ‘oof’ he almost starfishes on the tiny bed, pulling your naked body underneath one of his outstretched arms. The weight of him makes it a little hard to breathe, but you sigh in relief as you feel his head nuzzling into the crook of your neck, kissing your shoulder and hair tickling your ear.

“Mesh’la.” He mumbles into your skin, and you turn as best you could, pulling his face to press against your own.

“What does that mean?” Your voice is hoarse, hardly above a whisper, and he kisses you before he answers.

“Beautiful.”

“Mesh’la.” You whisper back, and his head dives back into you, hiding himself even though you can’t see him. “So, will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Keep me on this ship forever?” He almost stops breathing - everything goes quiet, and he tries not to react as your hand traces along the small, hot lines you carved into his back. He feels - selfish, with you. He’s not entitled to, he knows he can’t give you anything. Life with him was nothing like you were used to, this night was the first time he had ever stepped foot in a nightclub, unlike you, who did this every day. He couldn’t be selfish with you, but there was a desperate part of him that wanted to be the bad guy. Wanted to say ‘yes’. Wanted to make you his.

“I d-”

“Too late to take it back now. Or are you scared you can’t handle it?” He can hear the shit-eatng grin you are sporting as you tease him, just like before, and he wants to retort, wants to play with you, but he can’t. His brain is fried, and all he can think about is you never leaving.

“Mine.” He whispers, not meaning to say it out loud. You don’t respond right away. Instead, your nose brushes against his, and he feels your short breath kissing his cheek.

He was wrong before - this is the most intimate thing he can imagine.

“Mine.” You say back, and there's not a hint of reservation.

Your breathing starts to slow, and your head drops to his shoulder as exhaustion takes over. He shuffles, cradling your body against his and grabbing the blanket from underneath the bed frame to toss it over you. It wasn’t big enough to cover you both, but the heat of your body next to his combined with his recurring thoughts of what just happened is enough to keep him warm well into the night.

There is too much to do - his bounty hunter brain starts kicking at his conscious mind. The target is escaping, getting further and further every second he spends staring at your sleeping body. He should get up, go off and track it, make good on his promise of getting you off this planet and let you run head first into the life you were meant for.

He doesn’t move. His hand, rough against your soft skin, rubs soothing lines over your arm, and you sigh happily in your sleep. He should do those things, but he won’t. Because of you.

You said he was yours - and hell if he wouldn’t listen.

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[beskarandblasters]

Me and My Husband

Chapter Two: Drunk Walk Home

Married!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Synopsis: Din Djarin is doing what any typical Mandalorian would be doing after reclaiming Mandalore, finding a riduur and settling down. He’s still a member of the Guild on Nevarro, taking bounties here and there to support his new family. But when he meets you while you’re working the front desk at an inn on Naboo, he finds himself hooked, feeling like he’s found something new and exciting in his now mundane life. How long can he keep up appearances with his riduur? And how long can he keep his little secret with you?

Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, set post season 3, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), some liberties taken with Mandalorian culture/weddings/marriages, infidelity, eventual smut (chapter two!), switches between Reader and Din's POV, no use of y/n

Chapter summary: Your friend, Lumya, sets you up on a blind date that goes terribly. When you excuse yourself for some fresh air outside you run into Mando.

Word count: 3k

Chapter warnings: rotations = days, Reader does not know Din's name yet, your date is an asshole, drinking, fingering, semi public sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, small squabble between Din and your date, use of Mando’a words/phrases (translations included after)

You

It’s been seven rotations since your encounter with the Mandalorian at the Star-Lux. And you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him, of course. During your employment at the inn you’ve met so many interesting characters, travelers from all over the galaxy. But you’ve never met a Mandalorian and he’s been the most intriguing person you’ve met so far. And he wasn’t even a guest. 

The way he snatched that bounty up in no time was impressive. Surely there had to have been some sort of scuffle; an unfair fight for the bounty of course considering not only how strong Mando is but also considering his armor and plethora of weapons he has. He’s a walking force to reckoned with… who’s also a bad flirt. His flirting was poor, downright pitiful, but there was also something endearing about it. There’s something sort of sweet about an intimidating Mandalorian who’s also bad with women. 

Nevertheless, that’s been the only excitement in your life as of late and it was only for a fleeting moment. Work has been sort of slow lately. The tourist season on Naboo is wrapping up and a lot of the interesting guests at the inn have left. You’ve never left Naboo and listening to the guest’s stories has been your way of “traveling”, living vicariously through the stories they tell. 

When you’re not working you’re usually at the library, reading books or downloading information on your holo pad about far off places that don’t even seem real. One day, you tell yourself, you’re going to have enough credits saved up to take a commercial flight to one of the planets you’ve read about, most likely Coruscant since the activities there are endless. But you’ve also had your sights set on Aldhani, but that planet is off the beaten path and really no commercial ships go there. You wouldn’t mind checking out Corellia, Morlana One, Ferrix, or even Glavis Ringworld, a ring shaped space station orbiting a star. The list goes on and on. Basically, you would go anywhere if it meant leaving Naboo for once. 

Today is another part of your monotonous routine; waking up, eating breakfast, getting ready and heading to the library, reading about places you’ll never go and feeling sick about it, head to the inn and go to work, go home and go to bed, and repeat. You’re leaving the library and heading to the inn when you bump into your friend, Lumya. A pit forms in your stomach. 

“Hey! Don’t forget you’re meeting Davin for drinks tonight!” she says cheerfully. 

“How could I forget,” you say with gritted teeth. 

“Don’t get too excited,” she responds, rolling her eyes, “Come on! You’ll like this guy. I’m sure of it. When have I ever been wrong?”

“Uhh, with all of the other guys you’ve tried to set me up with.”

“Shh, forget about that. This guy is the one, I’m telling you.”

“Whatever,” you laugh, “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow,” you finish, waving goodbye before leaving to go to work. 

“Can’t wait!” she laughs, walking the opposite direction. 

It’s true, her track record with setting up on dates has not been the best to put it kindly. This is the fifth blind date she’s sent you on and you’d rather do literally anything else. She better be right; this guy better be somewhat appealing because you’re getting off of work early for this stupid date. 

-

Work is… work. It’s been a slow night. You’re glad to be getting out early but you wish it was for a better reason. A date is better than being stuck at a boring shift you suppose. 

You change out of your work clothes in one of the inn’s refreshers, out of the clothes Mando last saw you in. This specific uniform is one of your favorites in your rotation; a dress with a revealing, square neckline that he most definitely checked you out in. You don’t blame him. 

You put on another dress, this one being a bit more modest; long sleeves, deep blue, and stopping at your mid thigh. You put your work uniform in your locker and head out, leaving the inn just as Maree, your relief for tonight arrives, You mouth a “thank you” to her as you pass by. It’s starting to get dark out and the streetlamps of Naboo are just about to be lit. It’s a beautiful place and part of you feels guilty for wanting to leave it so bad. But you know there’s more out there for you. 

You’re meeting this guy at Triton’s Tavern, closer to the center of Theed. That means it’ll be more expensive. Why did you let him pick the location again? Whatever, maybe he’ll pay. You arrive at Triton’s and wait outside for him. Kriff, what was his name again? …Oh, right. It’s Davin. 

“Hey there,” a voice calls from behind you, followed by a hand on your shoulder. You jump in surprise and the voice chuckles. You turn around and you’re met with a face you don’t recognize. It’s gotta be Davin. But what kind of person lays a hand on someone they’ve never met before? Oh great, this is gonna go swimmingly. 

“Didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Davin and you must be Lumya’s friend.”

“That’s me,” you say, voice stiff and irritated. 

“Shall we head inside?”

“Sure,” the uneasiness evident in your voice. Gotta turn it off if you want this date to work out. 

You head inside and make your way over to a booth in the back corner of the tavern. He orders your first round of drinks; revnog, and asks you all sorts of probing questions about you. 

“So, Lumya tells me you work at the Star-Lux.”

“I do.”

“Isn’t that place kinda… seedy?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know… run down, some unsavory characters hanging around there.”

“What do you mean by “unsavory characters”?” you ask, head tilting to the side. 

“You know… like prostitutes, drug lords, petty criminals.”

I mean Mando did apprehend a criminal there but that’s besides the point. 

“First of all, none of that is true. And second of all, what if it was? Are you trying to tell me I’m a bad person because of that?” 

“No! No! That’s not it at all. I’ve just heard the reputation and I thought I’d ask you.”

You sigh and lean back against the back of the booth. 

“Can you get us another round? I’m just going to go to the refresher,” you say, sliding out of the booth and not even waiting for a response. 

You lean over the sink in the refresher, staring at yourself in the mirror and trying to psych yourself up for this disaster of a date. Davin’s not… horrible looking, by any means. But from the brief conversation you just had with him, you’re not interested, not in the slightest. The only solution you can think of is to drink your way through it. 

You head back into the tavern and take your place in the booth. The second round of drinks has arrived and you waste no time downing yours. You let him do all the talking, having no interest in getting to know him. 

“So do you plan on working forever?”

“…Define forever.”

“Like when you get married and have kids.”

“Who said I wanted to get married and have kids?”

“Well, do you?”

“I mean I’d like to get married but I don’t think I want kids.”

“So what do you want to do with your life?”

“I’d like to travel,” you say, reading your elbow on the table and your head in your hand. 

“That’s not realistic.”

“What do you mean “it’s not realistic”?” you ask, head tilting to the side again.

“I mean based on what you make at the inn I doubt you make enough to travel.”

“Well what do you do? Since you’re suddenly the expert on what is realistic and what’s not.”

“I’m a professor at Naboo University.”

“Oh really?” you snort. 

“What’s so funny about that?”

“Didn’t think education was a… prosperous field,” you reply, choosing your words carefully. 

“It is, actually,” he says, folding his arms, “And if you’ll excuse me, I need to use the refresher as well.”

“Yeah I’m actually just gonna get a bit of fresh air outside for a moment. Kinda hot in here…” you say, once again getting up and not waiting for a response.

The sun has completely set now, the sky an inky black and the streetlamps lit with an amber glow. Pacing up and down along the street you think of a million reasons to get yourself out of this. This is by far the worst date you’ve been on. You can’t even think of any redeeming qualities for this guy. And what’s pathetic is you wish Mando was here right now. At least he tried to flirt with you regardless of how bad it was… if you could even call that flirting. 

You turn to pace the opposite direction and right before your eyes is none other than… Mando? This is weird. You can’t be hallucinating, revnog doesn’t do that to you. 

Yes, it’s really him. He calls out your name confusedly and you make your way over to him, both of you stopping in front of an alley. 

“Hey,” you smile at him, closing the gap between you two and placing your hand on his beskar breastplate. You swear you can hear him gulp when you do that. 

“Here for another bounty? Or did you come all the way here just to see me?” you flirt, glancing up into the T-shaped visor. 

Din

You can’t know the truth. He made the several rotations long journey just to try and find you. He stopped at the Star-Lux earlier in the evening but you were already gone. So he resigned to aimlessly wandering the streets in hopes of looking for you. And to his delight here you are, pacing in the street. 

You palm the growing bulge in his flight suit and he has to fight the urge to let out a strained kriff. 

“I want you, Mando,” you say, your eyes glancing up at him, pleading with him. 

He’s having a whole moral dilemma in his head. The rational, logical part of his mind is screaming no at him, yelling at him to stop, reminding him he has a wife at home. But the pleasure driven part of his mind is egging him on, telling him to do it, convincing him he deserves this. Ultimately he decides that you came onto him, therefore it’s not his fault. 

He practically drags you into the alley, pinning you up against the wall. His gloved hand palms your thigh, trailing up against your entrance. You part your legs for him, letting him gain better access to your cunt. Din’s going crazy right now, imagining how wet you must be. He curses his gloves for being a barrier between his hands and your warm, soft, wet sex. It’s so hard to restrain himself but he must. 

You have to be soaked, though, judging by the way a finger just effortlessly slid inside you. He watches your face, watches the way you close your eyes and your lashes fan out on your face, watches the way your mouth falls into a soft O as his fingers play with you. Half of your face is cloaked in the darkness of the alley but the other half is lit up from the streetlamp at the edge of the alley, basking the one half in a warm glow and lighting up one eye. He tries to memorize this moment exactly as it is; your pretty face, your soft moans, and his guilt not being present for once. All under the nighttime skies of Naboo.

He slides another finger inside you, curling them upwards against your walls; against your g-spot. Your moans grow louder so he brings his helmet beside your ear, both of your chests pressed up against each other, and says “Shh, mesh’la. Someone will hear.”

You don’t know what that word means but he knows you’re too far gone in pleasure to ask. He rubs his thumb around your clit and he knows you’re already at the edge, judging by how hard you have to try to stifle your moans.

You cum around his fingers, and he can sort of feel it through his cursed gloves, feeling the way your walls flutter around him. He needs you around his cock now. Back when he masturbated to the mental image of you at his house on Nevarro he never actually thought he'd get the chance to have you. And now here you are, looking up at him with eyes pleading for more, more of him, and everything he fantasized about is in reach. His cock strains against his flight suit begging to be released. 

“You want more?”

“Please, Mando. I need it.”

Kriff, you don’t know what you do to him. He’d love to tease you; to make you beg, but he’s far too desperate and horny to try that now. Another time, he supposes, if he gets lucky. 

He pulls his hand from you and takes his cock out of his flight suit and you look down at it. He suddenly feels self conscious about not only the size but also the fact that it’s uncut. Circumcision isn’t a practice in Mandalorian culture and sometimes with other women in the past they turned their nose up at the sight. But you look at it in astonishment (or so he hopes), eyes widened and mouth into a soft O again.

He strokes his cock with the same hand that fingered you, spreading your wetness all over it. You turn around and bend over for him, pulling up the skirt of your dress and exposing your ass. He’s gonna lose it now. 

He thrusts into you slowly, resisting the urge to do it in one clean motion. He finally gets to feel for himself how soft, warm and wet you are, fighting the impulse to cum already. If there is a heaven, he has found it, here in an alley on Naboo with you wrapped around his cock. His hands hook onto your hips as he begins to thrust in and out of you, feeling the way your plush ass collides with his groin. Your walls grip his cock as he buries it deeper and deeper inside you, expanding your walls as far as they can go. You can’t hold back your moans now, it feels too good. The alley is filled with your moans, your ass colliding with his groin and his own grunts. He feels your cunt grow tighter around him, you’re going to cum soon. And he needs to feel it. 

“Gonna cum, mesh’la (beautiful)?”

“I’m so close, Mando. Please,” you moan, voice choked up. 

He can’t see your face but he’s almost certain you’re on the verge of tears. 

“Give it to me,” he commands. 

And you do, hard. Your walls contract and release erratically before falling into a rhythmic pattern. He fucks you through your release, prolonging it even further. Your orgasm pulls his own from him before he knows it. And now his cock is painting your insides in ropes of his cum. This right here is heaven. If he had suspicions before this just confirmed it. 

But the bliss is cut short but a voice shouting, “Hey! What are you doing?! You were on a date with me!”

You

You stand upright and pull your dress back down, opening your mouth to yell back. Davin is angry to say the least, angrily storming towards you with a deranged look in his eye. But Mando beats you to it, putting his cock away and wasting no time, charging at him with his blaster drawn. 

Mando puts him in a headlock, holding the blaster against his head. 

“Leave her alone or you’ll have to deal with me, got it?” Mando says sternly.

“But-” Davin starts. But Mando cuts him off, tightening the grip around his head. 

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Fine. She’s all yours, I don’t care. Just let me go!”

He slowly releases the headlock and Davin stands upright. Mando keeps his blaster drawn and aimed at Davin who takes one last look at you and runs away. 

That was… hot, the way he effortlessly restrained Davin, the way he protected you. Between the endorphins released during sex and now this, you’re infatuated with him. 

“Sorry you had to see that,” he says softly. 

“Don’t be sorry. I should be thanking you.”

“Can I walk you home?”

You nod and walk side by side with him, leading the way back to your place. 

“Were you on a date when I found you?” he asks after a moment of silence. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, “My friend set me up with him and it just… wasn’t going well.”

“I could tell,” he chuckles. “Oh and sorry about you know… coming inside you.”

“Don’t worry! I have an implant. And thanks for helping me out back there.”

“Of course. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Nothing will happen to me as long as I’m with you.”

He doesn’t say anything and you wonder if that was too far, so you change the topic. 

“Did you come here for a bounty?”

“…Yeah.”

“Where did you have to go?”

“I had to…” he trails off. You wait for his response but he just quietly says, “I came here to see you.”

“You did?”

“Yes.” His voice is small, like he’s embarrassed. 

“That’s sweet, Mando,” you say, stopping in front of your building on the outskirts of town. 

You look at him, silver beskar illuminated under the moonlight. Your stomach twists into knots when you look at him. This night could not have ended better. 

“Thank you again.”

“Of course. Until next time,” he says, turning and walking towards the fields, cape billowing in the wind.

You hope there will be a next time. You have to learn more about him, that’s for sure. 

Chapter Three

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[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter IX : Persephone

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence; Angst

A/N: *babu frik voice* heeeyyyyyyyy

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 5.6K

Read on AO3

PART II

CHAPTER IX : PERSEPHONE

What are we made of but hunger and rage?

Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays and Poetry

Din pauses mid-hunt, heart jolting back against his ribs – on Corellia’s Maker blasted surface for a bounty once again. He’d avoided returning here since that last time, but with the kid gone now, with nothing to do with himself but count his losses, he’d sucked it up, taken the private contract, and now… something in the distance, dying or coming alive… it rings, it howls. 

The call comes again: low, far off, electrifying, agonized. He changes direction and follows it, recognizing it like he’d recognize the call of his own name, his ad’ika’s cries, the sound of a heart beating or dying. 

He’d imagined this a million times in a million different ways, turning a corner, another, suddenly dizzy and sick and terrified, terrified. He hastens his pace, holding his blaster tight against his thigh to keep it from jostling, and promises himself he won’t actually think of it, won’t imagine the full dream or nightmare of it, not yet, not yet… but there is something out there, just ahead. Something that grabs hold of the pillar of his spine and tugs, knows him, calls to him. 

His heart beats faster than an X-wing, and he can’t help but fall into weakness and hope. He lets the thought of you bleed in, something he allows himself only in the most dire of moments, when he’s so alone or so afraid or so angry he can’t control the missing. Your face, your voice, your scent like wading through water, the memory of your skin like sharing your name with someone for the first time, like flying or being alive; a knowing unlike anything else, like experiencing the whole world, your whole life in one single blink, holding it like a just-about-to-fall tear over the ledge of your eye. 

He remembers you like he remembers being alive, always there, always present, the next beat of his heart. 

He tries to measure his breathing, feels his throat spasm, almost choke him, and he forces himself with all of his considerable strength to control his movements, to not break out into a full unthinking sprint. One more slink around a cornered building, and then you’re just there. Just there in the distance. The lines and slopes of the girl he used to love. 

Nothing more than the movement of breathing shadow, and he wants to dwell on the past tense of his own thoughts, fixate and pick them apart, but he moves past it. Focuses on the image, perhaps invisible to someone who’d not come to love the dark as he had, but he finds you, he’d always be able to pick you out of the darkness. Sliding slowly along the building face, as if melded to the steel, slithering along the night like a mercury thief. 

Din felt he’d become a hostile, barren wasteland of a man these past two years; quick to anger, quick to aggression, worse than ever before; miasma within his heart now, no longer the sun. The only thing that had tempered him, gentled him, had been Grogu, and now even he too, was gone. And he knew the dark saber hadn’t helped, if anything, the thing had worsened his issues. The power of it wasn’t something that complimented this too restless heart of his.

You’re moving up ahead slowly, and he watches the line of your back, the slopes of your shoulders, the shifting of your hair, and he’d hoped for so long, all these agonizing days and months and years apart, that he’d look over his shoulder one day, and see you in the distance, that a crowd would part and you’d be there. Through his mission for Grogu, losing his ad’ika, this time now, alone, he’d looked for you, hoped for you. 

He can feel your focus elsewhere, ignorant of your surroundings, honed on the pull of the shadows around you, perhaps, as you keep yourself cloaked, or your steps forward, to where he does not know, but there’s zero awareness in his direction. And he realizes that for the first time in this catch and trap game the two of you had always enjoyed playing – you don’t feel him coming.

You pause suddenly, hand like a flash of the sky trailing along the building face, bracing yourself there for a moment. He’s a several paces distance away from you, and he’d have thought you’d have sensed him by now, but as you come to a standstill beneath a jutting awning, a light drizzle starts to mist the air, and it’s as if the two of you are separated by one final veil, one last test. You, apart, in your own world, him, waiting to be let in. And you stand there, still and propped up by the side of the building, head tilting back slowly to peer up at the dark sky above, and with the slightest shift of your chin, there you are. Your face again before him for the first time in two years. 

Din sees you again. 

And suddenly, the shock and anger clear from his head long enough to realize that there’s something off – your gait or your posture or the careful measuredness with which you press each foot in front of the other, a strange limp and shift that favors your right side, the way you’re using the building’s face to keep yourself upright.

A cold dread freezes deep in his belly. 

Something’s wrong. 

He watches the flutter of your lashes as you close your eyes to let the cold raining mist fall upon your upturned face, and the sight of you deals Din a famished, hollow feeling; his heart working in a fast and broken rhythm. There’s something wrong, something wrong, and the organ works so hard it hurts him, almost forces the metal around his chest to rattling with its ferocity. 

The world suddenly seems inverted, mirrorlike. The black puddles on the sides of the streets, filling with dark mercury that reflect the sight of you. And he can feel each breath filter through his lungs, as if he could taste each particle of oxygen as it moves through his body, stepping out and away from himself, away from you, frightened, anxious, lost, lost, lost. He wants this, and yet, he does not. Had wished for this for days and hours and years and weeks and yet suddenly, he wants to turn and run far away and not face the reality of his past and his heart. 

I’ve lost my way, ended up in some strange, narrow land where I recognize nothing. Not even myself, not even you. Almost. 

This unexpected bounty seems like nothing more than a bone chilling triumph.

You’re the same, and yet not. Your body still soft, your curves still lush, but there’s a sort of meagerness, a stillness to you that’d not been there two years ago.

It seems you’d both lost something. 

He has to take a moment to catch his breath, hiding within the shadows of the buildings edge, he mimics your lean against the damp wall, and you’re still looking up at the falling sky, impossibly, more beautiful than he remembered, and he’s suddenly afraid that he’ll vomit inside his helmet. His heart flutters and writhes and screams so that he’s dizzy, tremulous, sick and hot and cold all over, on the verge of tears. Tears? And then suddenly, he’s angry. He’s so fucking angry from one moment to the next. Shocked into fury. How can you be here? Leaving him to muddle about in his shock and disorientation, prancing about this planet which he’d told you, he’d told you, was too dangerous. You never listened to him. 

He moves again, propelled by righteous anger. 

And he’s silent, silent; Din is nothing but the ghost you made him. He’s almost there, his fingertips stretching towards this dream he’s had for so many days, for two years and endless seconds. He is so close. You pull your eyes from the rain, looking away, down the opposite end of the dark street, and it’s as if he can feel your mind thrum and whirl in all directions but his. Turn to look at me, turn and notice me. Why the fuck haven’t you noticed me? I’ve been searching for you for two years and my whole life. And then a sudden cacophony of crashing and desperate clumsiness, no longer measured or restrained, full of hunger and rage, and you finally realize; jumping, skittering ahead suddenly, spinning blindingly. So fast you’re a blur, frightened out of your skin. 

He doesn’t realize you’ve moved until you’re almost out of his reach once again. And Din snaps into color and focus at that singular threat, that hint of the possibility of repeated loss. He moves – covers a distance of approximately fifty yards in no more than five or six seconds. Coming up behind you fast and hard so that there’s no mistaking the sound of muscle and beskar and man barreling down upon you, teeth bared and ready to snap you up by the nape, drag you away, kept forever, were in not for the prison of his own promises. 

You move again like a flash and a wink, and then you’re spinning, spinning, pulling the violet of plasma from your cloak on him in one of those lovely flourishes you’d always preferred. Like a dancer and a swan and the love of his life. You pull your weapon on him and Din feels that ferocious love that brandishes teeth and your name spark and burst alive within his heart once again; amazed and uncaring of the threat on his own life.

It beats, it beats, he thinks, I live. What does it matter what happens after this? I’m alive again.

You bare your teeth at him in a tiny, fractured snarl, incongruous with the immensity of the fear held in your eyes. But that bursts too, and at the last moment, when he finally remembers he has to be alive to take you for himself again, that he can’t let you actually kill him in a fit of fright, that he’s angry with you and needs to tell you so, he brings his arms up to block the death dealing blow. His vambraces spark between the two of you, and he wonders suddenly if every man that’s stood in this place Din is now in, waiting to meet his end at your hand, had felt as grateful and awed as he does now, nothing but violet ends and eyes like a whisper and a scream.  

And when those eyes focus, when you realize it’s him, that soft mouth he’d dreamt of endlessly, spilled his seed to the memory of in his sleep, for months after you’d gone, rolling around like a dog in the nest of your blankets trying to find any last wisp of your scent, it falls open on a small gasp of shock, wet and lush, something that used to belong to him, his name sitting silent on the tip of your tongue as if he could see the very shape of it. There’s something strange happening in your eyes in the moment recognition meets cognizance, where memory meets present, and then they’re both like a scream, fracturing with horror, perhaps, shock, surely. Nothing he wants to see there in this moment. 

They shutter, go flat, deep and fathomless and that fear of his is back, his heart like a momentary sun come to life with your recognition goes dark and cold again, and you freeze still and thrumming with repressed energy, all the strength in the galaxy seemingly held within this slip of a girl he used to love, and then metamorphosing instantly into a supernova. As if all the energy surrounding the two of you is sucked into a vacuum only you wield, something like a momentary hovering of hollow silence before you’re exploding in movement, violence, the kind that salivates and hungers. 

You pull your saber back, a jagged shriek in your throat, and he realizes you’re as angry as he is, even more. When you bring the saber down against his vambraces again he feels the force of it, he feels the Force, ringing in his teeth. His molars, grinding down into nothing against each other, holding you at bay as you bring your blade down on him again and again and again. And in the very millisecond before he pulls it from his belt and bears the terrible, dark truth of it to you, he thinks that he shouldn’t, that he should just let you kill him. It’s your right after all. You’d owned him from that very first moment in that dark alcove on that nothing planet in the middle of a too large, too lonely galaxy. His life had been yours since then, and so it only fell to reason that it should be yours to end as well. 

But he does not. And when he engages the Darksaber, lets it meet the purple haze of your lightsaber, a momentary collision of two giants, the pause the two of you take to breathe each other in is like breathing in life again after two years of barren death. 

The sight of it sets you off worse than the sight of his mantle. Something affronted like how dare he wield your weapon? You spin, parry, spin, parry. Your blows ringing in his ears, sending his heart to beat in his throat, and most surprising of all, or perhaps not, there’s nothing restrained in the Force you strengthen your strikes with. You want to hurt him, and he can feel the energy of you thrumming through the bones of his arms, strengthening him further, strangely, rather than weakening him. And he thinks again, something is wrong. 

You’re expelling energy too quickly, and you send a burst of the Force forward, towards his chest, trying to push him back, away, but it’s weak, a tepid attempt at best. The Darksaber hums and spits in his grasp, heavy as lead, and he returns one hard blow, bringing the terrible thing up above his head and with the swing of his arms, an executioner set to kill this weak rebellion of yours, down to meet you in a cross of the two blades so that your faces are right up against each other. You pant mist into the air, fogging his vizor, and he feels his cock thicken.

You’re so close. And he is so predictable. 

“It’s you,” he breathes. 

He wants to demand you scream at him, say his name, curse him, anything. Let me hear your voice, he wants to beg, but you spin again, twirl to bring your saber in a slicing motion towards his throat, another screech of painful frustration. He blocks, shoves you back, takes in the lagging of your strength, the too fast gulps of breath, the tremble in the lines of your arms. He deals you another hard blow, harder than the first. He’d lost things along the way since you, yes, but he’d gained others. He was stronger now, older, perhaps, but with a harshness about him that granted a sort of advantage in the ways he maneuvered himself, fought his battles. Something he’d not possessed before he’d lost so much. 

You send another kick of the Force towards him, this one even weaker than the first, and he hears the low, pained whine you gurgle in your throat, sees the break in your expression. Pain. He shoves you back.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” He spits, graveled and low through the modulator. The sound of him does something else to you. He watches a shiver and a jerk move through you, something jagged, particularly painful, and then you go sort of limp, holding yourself with a sort of wanness, your eyes seeming to lose all color and shape and depth in the instant the sound of his voice rings. He sees the strength in your fingers go limp around the hilt of your blade, and he knocks it from your grasp, sends it flying. When the dull thud of it extinguishing against the ground sounds, it seems to bring you to momentary wakefulness again so that you’re skipping backwards and away from him, pulling a blade from a fold in your tunic close to your breast, a tiny, silver thing. Inconsequential – no, beskar, the most important thing in the world. 

“What’s this?”

“For you.”

“Are you sharing your weapons with me now?”

“I’d share anything with you.”

“Another shiny thing to remind me of my shiny?” You’d laughed, but he’d seen the truth of sadness in your eyes. The reality that said, you’d not share everything, not that one last thing. And when he’d covered your eyes and lifted the lip of his helmet to kiss you soft and slow and sorry, his words had rung hollow and false and rebellious in his ears. 

You pull the little knife back, your other palm held out in front of you towards him, as if that single hand had the power to keep him at bay. The sight of it breaks him. He extinguishes the Darksaber, lets it fall to the ground to keep yours company because of course, of course that hand holds power. All the power in the whole galaxy, held in the small palm of an even smaller girl who’d take up all the space in the sky if only she saw in herself what he does. 

He takes in the tremble in your hand as you hold it up towards him, and Din feels, suddenly, so tired. 

You’re terrified. Alit with fear and power, something that almost glows with the force of your terror, the warp and weft of all life in the cosmos made visible, but there is a jaggedness to the manifestation of it. Something dark and serrated, all your hurts visible and plain for him to see. 

He pauses, terribly frightened, terribly sad, suddenly. What had been done to you? 

He’d been angry at you for so long, he is still angry. At times, he’d even feared he hated you. It was like some sort of betrayal you’d forced him into, a betrayal you’d wrought by your own hand, driving that love he’d felt to confused resentment colored in hurt. 

But there is something ridiculously, illogically frightened inside of you now as the two of you face each other once again. On the verge of tears or breaking, your fragmentation, obvious for everyone to see. He focuses on that small, trembling hand, and he’s entirely bested, and you smile, teeth flashing white, but limp and he knows it for the lie it is. 

-

“Oh, you again?” Your mocking laugh rings more false than any lie you’d ever told him. There is only the truth of tears in your voice. 

Your first words to him, an echo of a previous night. Terrible. Cowardly. You take a step back, another that he matches, and your tether, that dark red thread screams the song of finally. 

Finally, finally we’re together again.

You take him in, the long drape of his cloak, the frayed and worn edges. The old rusted vermillion of his armor, gone, replaced by something newer, stronger, better. The helmet, the helmet, the helmet, that dark, yawning pit of the transparisteel visor. 

Beskar and Creed and centuries of culture and religion and the Way. 

Your Mandalorian. 

An entire sun in the heart of a single man and enough love in yours to fill the entirety of the darkness in the sky for him.

“Maker, you’re extra shiny now.”

He answers with a frustrated hiss. “What are you doing here? Didn’t I tell you to stay off Corellia?” Said as if no time had passed at all, and he was still allowed to boss you around. He takes a step forward, and you flash a snarl at him, as menacing as you can muster with the state you’re currently in, tightening your grip on his little knife which tells more than you want him to know at this moment. 

“That was so long ago, and you always talk so much nonsense. You can’t really expect me to remember all of it, can you?” He growls again, another menacing foot forward. “Stay back,” you warn but take your own step forward too, slicing the blade through the air towards his neck. He blocks your arm, catching you by the bend of your elbow and shoves you back hard. Hard enough to send you into a clumsy stumble so that your back slams into the hard wall behind you, your head cracking against the stone. You’re left dizzy, disoriented, and there’s a particularly raw scrap of skin over your left shoulder that hadn’t been allowed to heal in weeks. Nausea bobs in your throat, floods your mouth, and he jerks at the sound of your skull meeting uncompromising stone, makes to reach for you, but then catches himself and freezes when you flinch away from him, going deathly still at the half animal groan of pain you let out. The helmet cocks slowly to the side, taking you in in that predatory way of his, all hunter. 

“What’s wrong with you?” His voice is so level and so cold and so frightening. 

The feeling of not knowing each other is suddenly so strong that you turn your face away from him sharply, sucking in quick panting breaths through your open mouth, tasting the putrid Corellian air, cold and slick against your tongue. This is wrong – this discomfort, this feeling of having been away from each other for so long that you’re once again strangers, that you can’t immediately recall the feel of his hands on you in tenderness, the smell of his hair, the taste of his come. But: liar, liar, you could never forget those things. 

You try and measure your voice, fail. “Nothing’s wrong with me. What’s wrong with you?” Slow breaths through your nose. Control yourself, please, please, get ahold of yourself. 

“Are you hurt?” He spits, all anger and threat of aggression now. 

“No.”

“Do you know how to do anything other than tell lies?”

“No,” You snap back. Truth finally, for what else are you to do? A girl who was never really so much a girl, but creature, creature, dark creature. Thalassian hissing and betrayal in the shape of a little Twi'lek sound and stumble through your broken mind. Molded into something worse by your own hands and weakness and fear. And you’re so angry at the fate of you, at the cards you’d been dealt. You want to curse and spit at him, you want these two years to go on forever, and you want him to take you into his arms and kiss you. 

You want him to never have to see you as you are now, for you to only live in his memory as he’d left you, well and his, and you want to break something. No— something is about to be broken here, but you can’t be sure what. You think it might be you, but you have no heart left to break, he took it, it was eaten, and too little mind remains for further shattering. 

The terrible voices that had lived inside your head your entire life, these past endless months, your own voice in that dark hole to the memory of: Master, I tried to make myself into what you wanted so many times and failed so many more times and can only seem to be, truly, what this man here before me demands of me, myself. You had rarely ever been yours, but Din, Din had always belonged only to you, from that first moment. Tucked away in the farthest and smallest recess of your mind, almost like a fracture in the dark, the memory of his strength, his honor, his loyalty, the great conviction of character and goodness every part of him was imbued with, he lived there, in that small pocket you’d managed to keep for yourself.

“You and that smart fucking mouth – you never know when to quit.”

You huff a saccharine laugh, your eyes filling with tears. You’re sure you must look unhinged, fracturing and hysterical all at once. “Smarter than you, that’s for sure.”

Both hands on his hips, he sighs then, long and frustrated, looking away from you with a shake of his head, and it makes you feel like the lowest piece of scum. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, listen to the jilt of his metallic encasings, the things that, second to your own stupidity, would always keep you away from each other, as he steps closer to you again. The ever present air of his concern hovers between the two of you as you press the balls of your hands hard into your eye sockets, willing your tears away. 

“Maker,” you groan. The will to fight leaves you, and your head, your head, it hurts. A piercing hot pain right through the center of your brain. You can hear the muffled sound of his voice saying your name, asking if you’re okay again, and you want to scoff and ask him in return how he could ever think you could ever be anything even close to okay after everything you’d done. But you focus on the blurry notes of him, that sliver of cracked light where he lives in your mind, the familiar sound of your name falling like salt from his mouth, like the phantom pain of an amputated limb, and let the fog clear slowly. 

When you open your eyes again, it’s nothing but clear reality: you, Din, all of your mistakes lying at your feet like two discarded sabers and dead hope. Two years of darkness is too long a time. You’d made such a terrible mistake, allowed such terrible things to be done to yourself. You want to run away from the sight of his anxious hovering, arms outstretched, poised to clutch and grab. You shy away, cowering into the wall, and you hear the sound of angry frustration he coughs out at the sight of the fear you can’t help but feel. 

But it’s your prize after all your sacrifice, can’t he see that? The only thing that remains.

All you have left now is the knowledge of how to be afraid. 

He appears to you, suddenly, as if he’d grown seven feet taller in two years. Brighter than any sun or moon in the galaxy, but also, exactly the same, and also, again, and at the same time, darker, colder, older. So heavily armored, like a wound of beskar looming above you in the night, outlined in pale, flickering silver, ready for war. He’s different, changed, unrecognizable. Something almost frightening, something that almost frightens you, as if he’d left the sun behind, ripped it out of the very sky. Finally, more droid than man, it seems. 

It makes you angry. 

Affronted, spluttering, you spit his own question back at him, “What happened to you?” Looking him up and down with all the contempt and disappointment you can muster.

He scoffs, planting his hands on tapered hips again, learning back on his heel. “What do you mean?”

“Look– Look at you. You were supposed to have greater care. You were supposed to be okay.” And you bear your teeth in the insinuation of a growl or a shriek. Completely nonsensical when he appears, for all intents and purposes, bigger and broader and stronger than he’d ever been before. “What happened to you?”

He takes you in, so still and so silent and so intimidating, and you’re about to cower and flinch once more before he says as simple as heartbreak, “You.” But of course. “You planted a rage inside of me. Do you understand what that is?”

How could you not? And so you tell him, “Yes,” and there are no surprises here. You should’ve been wiser, should’ve known that the two of you would meet like this again eventually. Angry and hurt and unrecognizable. That at the end of everything, all roads lead to Din. You had done something terrible, these were the consequences of your actions. 

“Where have you been?” He asks, but you look away, a quick shake of your head, not that question, any question but that one. He snarls, taking an aggressive step forward, and you press yourself into the wall at your back, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Please–” and you won’t cry, you’ll kill yourself right here and now infront of him before you let these Maker damned tears fall, but he cannot touch you, “Please, don’t touch me.” If he does, you’ll lose. You know it. 

“Where have you been?” He asks again. “I searched for you. Everywhere I went, I searched for your face in crowds. So many things happened to me.” His voice breaks, “Terrible things, wonderful things, and at every step I wanted to share them with you, and you weren’t there for any of it.” You see the jerk and thrum of his body as he forces himself not to take you up into his grasp. “Where were you?”

In a hole in the ground, in the dark, in my nightmares. To tell him that you’d destroyed everything, that you’d let yourself fall into a trap as bad as the worst thing that’d ever been done to you by your own choice, by way of your own actions, that you’d suffered, oh, how you’d suffered, and that it’d all been such a mistake and that you’re sorry and terrible and small now – to tell him all that would be to lose him in an irreversible way. 

“Nowhere.”

“Fuck you,” he scoffs, turning to spin in a directionless circle, trying to walk his frustration with you off. And you want to fall to your knees and beg him to forgive you for things he knows naught about. My soul has been so fearful, so violent: forgive its brutality. 

A nod of your head and a small yes is all you can give him. The pain in your skull splinters and breaks and spreads like cracks in ice, and you try and swallow your wince and shudder but you hear his own pained groan of recognition. 

His voice gentles: “I’ve thought about you for two years. I’ve searched for you for two years, and this is how you meet me again? Cold and hostile – as if we were strangers, as if all that time together had never passed between us? I missed you,” he says, and you wish for your hole in the ground once again.

You dig your nails into the meat of your palms, break skin. “What were a few months of peace and happiness in the shadow of madness, of history?”

He’s quiet, for a moment, and you know the breaking is here now. “Were you?” He asks in a very small voice, like a child, unsure and fragile. “Happy? Did I make you happy?”

It hurts, the sound of his voice hurts, worse than the fire in your skull, worse than the bright white of torture, worse than being alive. “Yes, Din,” You look right into the darkness where you know his eyes are. Be brave now: “Of course you did.”

“I wasn’t sure. I– sometimes… after… you made me doubt.”

“I thought of you,” you say, and your voice sounds as if it’s going away from you, “When I dreamt, I dreamt only of you. You want to know where I was?” Your head is going to split in two, and there’s fire in your back, your shoulder and your spine and every inch of skin that encases you, as if you’re coming alive in flames suddenly. Awake and aware of all that had been done to you for the very first time. It hurts everywhere. “I was asleep, or I was in a dream.” You look up at the sky again, and there’s red everywhere, and the two of you should have stayed in that warm cave all that time ago, safe and together. Together in water. “I was tangled in red strings or memories, I don’t know. I’m sorry I left you.” The first thing you should have said. 

Your mind spins and spins in a million different directions, ricochets and slingshots back to him, always him, always Din, always, always. Such a terrible thing, you’d found in your captivity, to be held so by someone entirely unattainable. And yet, here he is. The very sun held inside the heart of the man standing before you, and it is so bright and so strong, and as you focus on it, there, in his mind or his soul, stitched into the very fabric that Din is made of, the only person you’ve ever loved in your whole life and also entirely a stranger now, there’s something or someone else– strong in the Force, stronger than you, even, perhaps. You’re confused for a second. Something unrecognizable, young and vulnerable and pure and yet with a certain type of innocent wisdom unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Your eyes briefly focus one last time to take him in full, and the realization slices through your mind, your heart; shock, betrayal, grief for the thing you could never give him, would never have. 

“You have a son?”

And then nothing, the ground rising up faster than light, a last flash of silver beskar and the snapping of the last threads in your mind as you finally find a pool of dark unconsciousness that doesn’t swim with nightmares for the first time in years.

Chapter X

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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[im-poe-dameron]

you're upset one night, and you don't know where to go, so you end up at your enemy's house, and as they open the door, you stay silent for a second, before saying (with tears in your eyes) ''i don't know where else to go.'' your enemy doesn't say anything. instead they pull you into their arms, giving you a shoulder to cry on.

- back at it again with another prompt! could i possibly get this one with my other favorite flyboy, poe dameron?

IT'S ALWAYS BELONGED TO YOU

a/n: okay so this has been in my inbox for SO LONG, but i got a huge spark of inspiration and was in the mood to write for poe. so out came whatever this fic is of enemies to lovers meets heated arguments meets well...........the good stuff. i finished this tipsy and half asleep so i don't even know if it makes sense but enjoy my darling!! (yes the title is from will turner). unedited and not beta read so there is most likely mistakes.

summary: injured from a fight at the cantina you seek out someone unexpected.

pairing: poe dameron x fem!reader

word count: 5.5k+ (i guess?!)

warnings: explicit so minors BEGONE, cussing, so much angst, bacta shot (aka involving a needle), pain, arguing, mentions of death, fingering, cum eating, overstimulation (blink and you'll miss it), fluff.

The frigid feeling of the night on your bare skin kept you from staying still and debating on whether or not this was a good idea. Somewhere in the brawl you forgot your jacket hanging on the back of your chair. The same jacket that once belonged to your father. You wanted to go back for it, but you’d been tossed out of the cantina for a reason and re-entering didn’t seem like a feasible option.

With reluctance filling every bone of your body, you made your way through the rain and back towards the camp you’d been tasked with protecting. You weren’t sure why you were put in the same group of people as the man who hated you so thoroughly is hurt at times–but there you were. A part of you wanted to fall into your slightly uncomfortable cot for the night; giving up without another thought.

Only you knew that if you showed up with a split lip and cuts on your knuckles, you’d be reprimanded to Corellia and back. Which left you with only one other option.

Sighing, you tightened your still bleeding hands into fists, trying to ignore the chills that spread rapidly down your spine.

His door looked more threatening than a whole horde of stormtroopers. It was a ridiculous notion to come to, but there you were–unable to simply knock and ask for help. You were hopeless when it came to admitting that you needed it in the first place. Asking someone–let alone the man who loathed your very being–made you realize that you’d rather face those stormtroopers. 

What were twenty men with blasters compared to this situation?

A cough wracked your body, sending a searing pain down your side as you practically shivered. It was then you realized the bastard from earlier has most likely snapped a rib or two.

How would you explain this? How could you come back from this?

Nothing was worse than asking someone you considered an enemy for help.

Fighting the urge to tuck your tail between your legs and run, you raised your arm–knocking assuredly on the door. There was absolutely no turning back now. Which is what you were afraid of.

The echo of rain hitting against metal rang in the clearing behind you–reminding you of what you’d have to walk through in order to get home. If he said no, laughed in your face and refused to help, you’d be horrified but you would go. After all, the both of you had treated one another with enough cruelty to make even Leia herself shocked. You weren’t even sure what caused this whole situation in the first place.

Why did you hate each other?

Why did you want to see him hurt and why did he want to do the same to you?

For months you could barely be in the same room together for more than five minutes before you were going at each other’s throats. Yet you were pretty sure if someone asked you what started it all–neither of you would have an answer. It just seemed to materialize out of thin air. The hatred seeping so far into your hearts, you couldn’t find a good enough reason to let go of it.

You vaguely heard him shuffling towards the door, a thump of him hitting something filtering through the metal.

There was still time. You could sprint the other way and forget this whole night ever happened. You’d patched yourself up numerous times before. Why did you need him to do it this time?

You were five seconds away from turning tail and running when the door slid open to reveal a shirtless and sleep deprived Poe Dameron. The slight shock on his face at seeing you was almost laughable. Except you then realized–you couldn’t laugh without doubling over in pain. The surprise quickly slipped from his face, being replaced by a sour look you would recognize anywhere.

“Hi,” you said softly, tucking your hands behind your back to hide the sight of your split open skin. That however didn’t stop his eyes from falling to your bleeding lip. “I know I have no right to ask this–”

“Who did that to you?”

The small tendrils of heat you’d been reaching for began to curl around your chest. Squeezing tightly until you had no choice but to acknowledge that they were there in the first place. Your rib still hurt like hell, yet hearing the slight worry in his voice counteracted that pain.

“Doesn’t matter,” you said quickly.

“That’s not what I asked,” he said–eyes hardening as they fell to the way you were leaning against the wall, placing more weight on your left side than your right.

You’d only ever seen him look this way during the heat of battle. When he was determined to come out victorious–the rage shining through the dark brown of his iris, nearly burning a hole through your chest. He was angry you were hurt. It was a surprise to come to that realization and yet it wasn’t an unwelcome one at that. Shifting your body, you tried to alleviate some of the pain that shot down to your leg–feeling like you might pass out from hypothermia the longer you stood there.

“Some guys in the cantina didn’t want to believe I was with the Resistance,” you huffed, shrugging your shoulders slightly. “They are worse off than I am. Trust me.”

“Where are they?”

A flutter tore through your heart. You’d never felt this way in his presence before. Some part of you knew that you were supposed to have these emotions when it came to Poe, but that was just it. The knowledge that this felt wrong–made it feel so right.

Maybe that’s where the hatred came from. The incessant understanding that this–whatever it was–should not happen. Poe was going to one day be a general and you would remain just the way you were. An engineer who knew their way around a blaster in the midst of battle, but nothing more. So, you shoved down the emotions you were feeling until they settled at the bottom of your stomach–turning your body bitter.

Poe Dameron, no matter how appealing he was to you in this moment, would only ever be the asshole who called you names like slip and rookie.

“Why come here?” he asked, still taking up space in his doorway–keeping you outside.

He wanted an answer and just like when you were asked why you hated him–you couldn’t come up with a good one. Why were you there? Why did you feel the need to come to him? For all you knew he would do a shitty job in patching you up, but that didn’t seem to matter. You knew the answer and you also knew…you didn’t want to say the answer.

“I–I didn’t know where else to go,” you replied, lying through your clenched teeth.

Waiting for him to laugh–tell you to go back to your, too small, cot was worse than the pain now spreading like a fire through your chest. Except he merely stepped to the side, giving you enough space to hobble inside–tears building up in your eyes at the small act of kindness. His hand landed on your arm, dragging it up until your knuckles were directly in his line of sight.

“It’s not that bad,” you blurted out, forcing yourself not to wince when he led you to the small stool placed near what you assumed to be a kitchen.

“Bullshit,” he muttered.

Just that one simple word brought a smile to your face, but you promptly wiped it away as he returned with a bacta kit and a wrap from your waist. You hadn’t even told him that you suspected your ribs were broken. He could simply tell by the way you were holding yourself. Once again that sickeningly sweet warmth shoved its way to the center of your chest, spreading up towards your neck.

He didn’t speak as he cleaned your knuckles. Simply kept his head ducked down–his curls falling against his forehead as he tried to pull out whatever glass might have been there. The alcohol in your veins was gone the second his hand touched yours. The feeling sobering you up quicker than you would have liked. Which meant you now had to sit and try not to stare at his still half bare form; or the way the muscles on his back tightened as he hunched over slightly to get a closer look.

“How many were there?” he asked, breaking the silence.

Again you winced, averting your eyes when he lifted his head. “Four.” The word was mumbled under your breath, and it wasn’t until you felt his hand tighten around your own, did your gaze snap back to his.

“What the fuck slip,” he breathed.

“Look they weren’t–”

“You could have gotten yourself killed,” he snapped.

Rearing back, you tried not to flinch from the pain in your side. “I was perfectly fine on my own.”

“Perfectly fine huh?” He stood when you nodded defiantly. “Then explain why you came to me bleeding.”

“I told you I had nowhere else to go,” you said.

He scoffed, shoving the opposite stool he was on closer to you, and sitting down. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Why?” Now it was his turn to back away. “Why shouldn’t I lie to you? If you haven’t noticed Dameron–we hate each other. I can’t remember a single time you were ever nice to me willingly so give me one good reason why I should even consider telling you the truth.”

“Because–”

“Because why?” you shouted, no longer in control of the emotions that unraveled your very being.

This was inevitable in the end. A fight between foes–when the meaning was far more than either of you could comprehend at a time like this. If you weren’t injured, you’d have tried to shove him away from you. Put as much distance between the both of you as possible, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, let alone shift your body away far enough to clear your head.

“Because it’s us!” Dropping his head into his hands he rubbed at his eyes, oblivious to the way your mouth dropped open slightly. “It’s us. And yeah we fight, and we try to kill each other, but it’s us. I’d take a fucking bolt from a blaster for you.”

Your breath hitched, eyes watering at the sight of him tearing his own walls down for you. The same person he made everyone think he hated. You must have been stuck in a dream that found its fun in making something like this feel so real. It was twisted how much you longed for it to be real–how you wished you could break down your own walls just as he did.

“Poe–”

“If you don’t think that’s true then you obviously don’t know who pushed you out of the way in the last battle.”

You remember that day. A stormtrooper had gotten the upper hand, and while you were attempting to leap for an abandoned blaster on the floor, he had fired the shot. Someone shoved you of the way, effectively knocking your head against a rock and knocking you out. Except they had saved you from dying. Now–as you watched him run his hands through his hair to appease some of the stress building in his body, you realized how wrong you’d read every situation since then.

The walls holding in every built in emotion you had felt in the last year cracked. Severing your armor in two–allowing him to see a part of you that you closed off to everyone else.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you breathed, eyes still wide.

He shrugged. “Why didn’t you tell me you took down the TIE fighter that nearly blew me to pieces?”

Freezing in place, you watched his lips tug upwards in a small grin as the truth finally spilled free. You weren’t even supposed to be in an X-Wing, but then you heard the panicked transmission call. They were out-manned, outgunned, and on the verge of being wiped out. So you did the smart thing. You jumped in a ship and attempted to help–saving Dameron halfway through the battle from the very brink of death.

“How did you–”

He leaned closer, invading whatever personal space you had left. “Rose can’t keep a secret to save her life after four glasses of Jet juice.”

“You knew this whole time that I saved you?” Exhaling a shaky breath, you tried to stop your heart from leaping out of your chest. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

“I figured you hated me, but not enough to watch me die.”

“Poe Dameron you’re an asshole.” It was said through a weak laugh, the tears spilling down your cheek as you realized how stupid the both of you were.

He smiled, cupping your face and wiping them away with a soft brush of his thumbs. “Right back at you slip.”

Shifting, you managed to lean your forehead against his, eyes shutting for a moment of peace. “Hey, why do you call me that?”

His huff of laughter washed across your face–his thumbs still stroking your cheeks. “Cause you slipped through my fingers when we first met and have been ever since.”

If you didn’t feel the absolute ache in your chest before that moment, you did now. Somehow he’d taken every time you’d burned with anger towards him and flipped it–causing you to burn, ache, long for him the longer you sat there. He was the reason you were still alive; the true reason why you came here for help instead of anywhere else. You wanted to see him–to know that the loathing he felt was just a cover for something he couldn't quite yet describe.

“Poe,” you whispered, placing your hands on his shoulder in order to keep him from moving. “I–” The breath in your lungs stuttered as you tried to get out words that you never realized you felt until tonight.

They were stuck, lodged in your throat as you realized what it would mean for you to finally admit that this was real. You’d have to open up to him–show him all the ugly bits you did your best to ignore, because they were far from perfect. You were far from perfect. Except he didn’t seem to care.

“I know,” he said. “Me too.”

Gripping lightly on his hair you dragged him closer until his lips sealed over yours, effectively stopping your heart. You were nearly positive that he’d stolen every breath you had ever taken and would take in the course of your life, with this one single kiss. Which only made you press against him harder, lips moving in a more swift manner to forget the pain you both put each other through to get here. How stupid were you to think you could make an enemy out of a fated lover.

Licking against his bottom lip, you felt his hand slide from your cheeks down to your waist. Gentle enough to avoid the wounded areas, but firm in the decision he was making. He chose you. He’d always choose you.

The taste of him would leave you inebriated for days to come. Peppermint and something so purely him that you wouldn’t have been able to put into words even if you tried. Somehow that left you wanton, desperate for more. It stuck to your taste buds, shooting lust through your veins. Curling your fingers even further into his hair, you tentatively opened your mouth to him, shivering when he took the initiative to lick slowly–hotly–against your tongue.

You could stay there for hours just doing this. Tasting him for as long as time allotted you to do so. However, fate had a slight difference in opinion, because as you moaned into his mouth, he gripped your side–sending a jarring pain down to the very tips of your toes. Crying out, you yanked him back by his hair; an audible groan tearing from his throat.

“I’m sorry,” you said, letting go instantly. “I just–”

“Where does it hurt?” He bypassed your apology, choosing instead to run his hands lightly over your side until he caught you noticeably flinching.

“It’s–fuck–I swear it’s fine.”

He shook his head, biting back his smile as you attempted to play off the pain that nearly had you collapsing onto the floor. Picking up the bacta kit he began to put it together. Really it would take a few seconds and it would be over with, but the way he glanced at you for permission before lifting the side of your shirt, felt like the act took longer than that. Biting down on your split lip, you ignored the way your body tensed when his warm calloused hands touched your side.

“This might hurt,” he mumbled, still so close that you could feel his breath against your arm.

“I can take it.”

Seeing him attempt to swallow down his smirk had your thighs clenching together. While you certainly hadn’t meant for it to sound that way, you weren’t upset when his mind fell to that conclusion. If you weren’t stuck in one spot, you’d have asked him to do far more than simply kiss you. Which made the entire situation that much more aggravating.

You could only kiss him.

Tensing as the needle punctured your skin, you forced yourself to think of anything other than the situation you were in. You couldn’t look at him–not when he was leaning forward like this, his lips inches away from your arm. Not when you could feel your control wavering, on the verge of snapping in two. Fuck your injuries, you’d heal eventually, but knowing Poe he’d demand that before either of you two did anything–you’d have to heal first.

“Stop fidgeting,” he said, pressing down on your side to keep you from pulling away.

“Just hurry up.”

“I’d be able to if you sat still.”

Grumbling under your breath, you felt him pull away, the clink of the needle hitting the counter coming from behind you. “Is that it?”

“I’m going to have to bandage your waist until we can get you to the medic tomorrow.”

“The bacta won’t…heal my ribs?”

He chuckled, grabbing the bandages he had pulled out from the closet you all had in case of emergency. “No it won’t. Bones are a little more complicated.”

“Well fuck–” Wincing when you shifted back, you saw him pause a foot away from you. “What’s wrong? Not enough bandages?”

Poe stumbled over his words, his eyes dropping to your body before dragging back to your eyes. You felt the tug in your stomach at the sight of him openly admiring you, but you shoved it down. Too prideful to admit that you liked the look on his face and wanted to see it again and again.

“No–uh–I’m going to need you to–well–”

“Spit it out Dameron,” you said, a teasing smile spreading across your lips. “It can’t be that hard.”

The words had their intended effect. His eyes narrowed, hands gripping the bandages tighter as he stared at you without any embarrassment in his eyes. Something shifted in the air around you–nearly sparking a fire that slowly inched its way through your body.

“Take off your shirt.” His clipped tone caused your body to react in such a visceral way you nearly let an incoherent whine slip free.

“What?”

Stepping closer, he began to unravel the bandages. “Unless you want the bandages on top of the fabric.”

“No–I–” If you weren't being watched by him–stuttering underneath his gaze–you would have made a sly comment. No doubt causing yet another argument, but the look in his eyes quickened your pace.

It took you painfully shifting and him helping you–his hands dragging up your sides slow enough to have you shutting your eyes for some reprieve–for you to finally get the shirt off. You were better off simply sitting here rather than feeling him handle you as if you’d break any minute. It was maddening. Yet each time he wound his arms around you to keep the bandage straight, each brush of his hands along your bare skin, sent shivers down your spine.

“Almost done,” he said.

You opened your eyes, peeking at his face and felt your stomach bottom out. His jaw was clenched, eyes staring directly at his hands that didn’t stray from his task. What you thought was merely you overreacting at the loss of touch you’d experienced, was something else entirely. Poe had always been the man to keep perfect control over everything he worked on–a spitting image of the leader he was meant to be. At times you found it annoying, except you never realized how far his need for control went.

“Poe,” you murmured, breaking through his tightly locked mindset and allowing him a moment to pull away.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

Shaking your head, you ran your fingers through his curls, pushing them away from his forehead. You never understood the fascination with a man’s hair until this moment. Until he titled his head back–leaning into your touch–as his eyes fluttered shut. The look on his face nearly brought you down to your knees and even as he opened his eyes, you saw the brown nearly swallowed whole by his pupil. He wanted more.

You both did.

“Poe–”

He pulled away, returning to his spot on the stool and tying off the bandage. “You’re injured,” he said. In all honesty you weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself. “I’m not going to be the reason you hurt even more.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

The words felt strange coming from you, knowing everything you went through to get to this point. It was ironic in a way. Except you couldn’t focus on the past–you didn’t want to. Knowing that the thoughts you had weren’t just fickle emotions, brought out new sensations you knew only he could make you feel. Poe Dameron was an addiction you didn’t want to kick. He was the poison in your veins and the antidote on your tongue.

Wincing, you leaned forward to bring his gaze back to you. “You can still kiss me…”

The worry on his face gave way to a smile you’d only seen directed at you a few times. Well–the times you’d actually been looking at him. You didn’t know it yet, but you were the cause of nearly all his smiles; the reason he found himself in a daze–lost in thoughts of you. Without hesitation, he captured your lips with his. The tang of him, already something you missed, once again filled your senses. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to drag him closer or pull away for air, but you decided on the former.

Gasping as one of his hands hesitantly brushed against your bare breast, you nearly fell into his lap. If you weren’t careful the both of you would end up on the floor and that would cause more harm than good. Poe knew that, which is why it only took him a few seconds to switch places with you. Shifting your body until your legs were over his thighs–the heat of his body now pressing firmly against yours.

“Fuck–” you breathed; practically shaking as your nipples brushed against his bare chest.

“My beautiful girl,” he mumbled against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your jaw–nipping lightly at the skin there. “Saved my life.”

The words you intended to say came out as a whine of his name instead when he pressed your hips down against his own. Effectively grinding his cock right against your clothed cunt. Sparks trailed up your spine, giving kindling to the fire that now streaked its way through your veins–causing you to press even closer to him.

Thankfully the bacta shot numbed the pain you were in, but you knew things wouldn’t get farther than this tonight. If there’s one thing you understood–Poe never backed out on his word. He’d kiss you until your head went fuzzy and your heart nearly gave out, but he wouldn’t press you into something that would cause your body pain. Somehow that only made you want him more. Until you were practically dragging yourself against his lap and sucking his tongue into your mouth.

He groaned, his hand grasping at your ass to still your movements. “We can’t–”

“Please,” you breathed; the beg was clear in your voice. “I’ll be good.”

“Fuck baby you’re going to kill me.”

Giggling, you scraped your teeth along his jaw. “You and I both know it takes a lot more than me begging for your cock to kill you.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” he grunted, his hand reaching for the button of your pants.

The first touch of his fingers sliding through your slick nearly caused you to lose all sense of yourself. A heady moan ripped its way out of your throat as you tucked your face into his neck. Without meaning to, you began to grind against his fingers–positive that you wouldn’t last more than a few minutes from just him exploring. You were desperate for him; aching to feel him fill you entirely.

“Is this cause of me?” he asked, his eyes wide at the feeling of you practically dripping onto his palm.

You nodded, pressing your lips against his. “Yes. Now can you please–please touch me.”

Your heart nearly shattered when he shook his head, pulling his hand from you. This was the sensible thing to do. Wait until you are completely healed to move any further. Only you couldn’t stop the cry of desperation from leaving you. Steadying your breath, you began to shift away from him; certain that the both of you would simply head to bed now.

His hand grasping onto yours is what stopped you from moving.

“What–”

“Show me,” he breathed, dragging your bottom lip into his mouth and letting it go.

“Huh?” Your brain had turned to mush at the idea he was suggesting.

It wasn’t until he clasped your hand over his, having you guide him towards your cunt did you realize exactly what he wanted. Show me. He wanted to know what you wanted. How you liked to be touched; what exactly would get you there to the very edge of climaxing. His eyes were clouded with lust, mouth swollen and spit slicked as he watched the realization dawn on your face.

“Show me,” he urged a second time, biting down on his bottom lip when you finally took the initiative.

A ragged gasp left you when you pressed his fingers lightly to your clit, teaching him the pace that made your toes curl. Already you could feel your orgasm building, the tightening in your stomach growing with every swipe of his calloused fingers against you. Pushing his hand down further, you guided him, moaning when his fingers caught on your entrance. It wouldn’t take you long to hit that peak, his name already a pleaded out moan on your lips, but you needed more than what you could show him.

“I need–” You tilted your head back when he pressed the first finger into you.

“What do you need?” he asked, his other hand cupping the back of your neck to bring your lips back to his. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“I–” He slid another finger into you, smiling briefly as you choked on your words. “I need more. Oh fuck.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, digging your nails into his shoulder. If you thought you were guiding him on how to give you an orgasm, you were sorely mistaken. Within seconds, you were a mess on his lap as he sped up the pace of his fingers, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit with every movement. Feeling his eyes on you as your mouth dropped open and your eyes fell shut was almost too much.

“Poe!” you cried out when he found the spot along your walls, rubbing his fingers over it with every thrust. “I’m gonna–ah fuck I’m gonna cum.”

“C’mon baby,” he murmured. “Cum on my fingers.”

You didn’t hear the rest of his words, because the coil in your body finally snapped. Shattering your very being in two as he pushed you even higher with his fingers. Above the sounds of your breathing was the audible echo of his fingers plunging in and out of your cunt. The wet squelch enough to have your orgasm prolonging to a point of near pain.

Sobbing out his name, your legs shook as he gradually slowed the pace of his hand until you were reaching down to stop it altogether. Sparks spread up and down your spine, rendering you immobile as you gasped for a full lungful of air.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, the disbelief clear in his voice.

Laughing softly, you pressed your lips against his. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Good kind or…”

“Definitely the good kind.”

You watched as he sucked his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. The sight of his eyes shutting in bliss made your clit throb and you nearly asked him to do it again. Instead, you opted for kissing him–tasting yourself on his tongue–while you waited for the feeling in your legs to return.

Which they did a few minutes later.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, glancing at the digital clock he had attached to the wall.

“What’s wrong?” Sighing, you attempted to get up from his lap only to have him stop you. “What happened?”

“I forgot my jacket at the cantina,” you said.

“You can wear mine.”

The ease in which he said those words reminded you of your feelings. You would choose him again and again, no matter the consequences in the end.

“I’d love to,” you replied, wincing as you stood up. “But it was my dad’s jacket. I can’t lose it.”

Poe got to his feet–his hands settling on your hips to keep you steady. “Wasn’t he a pilot?”

“In the Rebellion. Yeah. I didn’t know you knew that.”

“I always paid attention when you thought I didn’t.”

Smiling, you felt heat begin to creep up the back of your neck, warming your face. “Thanks…for paying attention.”

“Don’t thank me yet slip,” he said, leading you through a few stumbling steps till your legs hit the edge of his bed. “I’ve still got to make you see the Maker once you’re fully healed.”

He laughed when you smacked him on the arm, your body finding the thought incredibly appealing. There was something dangerous about being this in tune with someone you thought you hated once. You weren’t sure it was a good thing or a bad thing yet, but you knew he’d help you find out eventually. So, rather than fight against the feelings that begged to be bricked up and hidden, you gave into something greater.

It took three more sexual jokes, a kiss or two, but soon you were lying together in the bed, his chest pressed against yours. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as you drifted off. Happy for once in a very long time.

Feeling the uncomfortable ache return to your side woke you up from your relaxing sleep–causing irritation to rise in your body. Poe slept soundly beside you, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist and head pressed into your neck. Which is why you tried to stay as still as possible. Except you could feel the burn start to come back with full force.

You had to see a medic today. The sooner the better.

Shifting slowly, you managed to turn to your other side–relieving some of the pain. Only to freeze as you caught sight of the brown leather pilot’s jacket hanging off the back of a chair. Blinking, you cleared the sleep from your eyes to make sure you were seeing what you actually thought you were seeing. The same jacket you’d left behind–the very last piece of your father you had–was directly in front of you.

Your breath caught in your throat–the tears welling up in your eyes. Poe had ventured out into the pouring rain in the late hours of the night, all to retrieve your jacket. He knew how important it was to you; understood the significance of the garment you wore proudly each and every day.

Blinking back the tears you felt the last of your walls crumble into pieces around you. Finally exposing your heart to the world that had turned it cold in the first place. Only now, as you felt Poe stir behind you–your eyes still stuck on your jacket–did you know that your heart was eternally protected. Just as he saved your life and healed your wounds, he’d do the same for your heart.

For as long as time allowed.

#poe dameron x fem!reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron #poe dameron fic #poe dameron smut #my writing

[goddessofmischief]

     —   ACROSS THE STARS (SITH!KIT TANTHALOS X READER)

Summary: Kit Tanthalos is a Sith apprentice - and your biggest enemy. Now she's fighting for your hand in marriage.

CHAPTER TWO: CHOSEN

Kit knew she wasn't wanted.

...But she was greedy. And young. Too young to understand that actions had consequences, too young to feel the depth of those consequences.

Truth was, she'd been planning a takeover of Naboo for some time. She wasn't here for you. She was here because she knew it would be easier to win the throne through your planet's own traditions, rather than taking it by force. She could have done it, of course, but it would've taken more time, more manpower.

After some time spent considering it, mulling it over, marrying you seemed like the obvious choice. Kit could even view it altruistically, if she tried hard enough: she was saving you from an unhappy relationship with someone else, after all. But she knew you found spending time with her just as displeasurable. She knew you resented, hated, feared her. Just as everyone else did.

And here she was, along with all these other fools. It was easy to size them up, almost immediately: Graydon, the prince of Zygerria, Jade, the Jedi, and - Kit's brother, Airk.

Of course.

Kit could never be best at anything, Airk had to be best at it first. Apparently, that was also true when it came to winning you. She had exiled him, long ago, and he had left Corellia without complaint. He seemed happier, now that he wasn't a prince. At least she could do that much for him.

So, that was her competition. Two princes and a Jedi.

Kit was sure she could beat 'em all.

"Knock knock, princess," Kit said, stepping into your quarters. She'd snuck up the stairs not long after the other contestants had gone to bed, longing to talk to you, wondering what you thought of her presence.

Well, she knew what you thought. Mostly, she wanted to know what you'd say.

"What do you want?" you snapped, and as you turned in Kit's direction she glimpsed tears in your eyes.

That... wasn't what she expected.

"Um," Kit cleared her throat, sitting on the ornate couch beside you. "I guess I just wanted to talk."

You waved a hand.

"Talk. Doesn't matter what I want anyway."

"I'm guessing you're mad that the people of your kingdom seem to prefer me."

You laughed.

"Yeah. Something like that."

"Well, who did you want them to pick?"

"I don't know, Jade? The honorable Jedi? Or Graydon, the kind prince? Even Airk. He's not the smartest, but he would've been someone I could've ruled with. Anyone but a Sith. Anyone but you."

"Ow," said Kit, and she hadn't realized she'd spoken it aloud until she saw your eyebrows raise. "I mean, I can't be that bad, right?"

"You've killed people. Innocents. You banished your own parents. Even your brother won't have anything to do with you."

"Airk was grateful I took over, okay? Now he has time to do the things he actually wants to do - like playing sabacc, or competing for princesses."

"Grateful? You almost killed him!"

"I did what I had to do, and I'm sorry that you're too stupid, foolish and naive to see that!"

You stared at Kit, lip trembling. She wanted to reach out for you, tell you she was sorry, tell you that she didn't think you were any of those things.

Instead, she just mumbled "See you tomorrow," and swept out of your chambers, cape swinging behind her.

taglist: @hea-vin

#kit tanthalos #kit tanthalos x reader #ruby cruz

[lajulie24]

One of the things that I think is so great about the Obi-Wan Kenobi show is how you see seemingly ordinary people in the galaxy doing things that have a big impact. It would be understandable for people to just try to survive under this fascist Empire, look the other way when bad things happen. And some of them do, but some of them don’t. Just in the first two episodes, you have:

A group of ordinary cantina folks on Tatooine (Anchorhead?) refuse to give up the Jedi who is living among them

Owen Lars resists giving up Obi-Wan to an Inquisitor who directly threatens his family and sticks a lightsaber up to his neck

Owen tries to protect Luke by trying to keep Obi-Wan away from him AND indirectly is trying to get Obi-Wan to let go of the past that he’s clinging to

Haja is helping a mother and her Force-sensitive child escape to Corellia (the fact that it’s for credits doesn’t erase the fact that he’s risking himself and his companion to do this)

Haja stands up to an Inquisitor and actively claims to be a Jedi in order to help Obi-Wan and Leia get away, even though he knows Obi-Wan is being hunted and he could probably make a huge reward by turning him in

Haja gives Obi-Wan and Leia a way to get off-planet despite the lockdown

The girl selling spice gives Obi-Wan some to try to help him forget (it’s the wrong idea, but it comes in handy later)

And the people who start to help Obi-Wan get back in touch with the Force, with hope, who start to help him emerge from his depression and reconnect with who he is, are largely non-Force-sensitive people:

Bail Organa risks himself and his wife (and his daughter) not only to ask for Obi-Wan’s help but to come directly to Tatooine and tell him in no uncertain terms to let go of this regret and grief that is killing Obi-Wan and get his shit together, because someone needs him.

Haja tells Obi-Wan, “you’re not alone” and uses his real name, not his made up in-hiding name.

One of the moments where Leia really gets through to him is when she is doing something that directly reminds him of his friend Padmé and how Leia has inherited her fearlessness and willingness to accept help and reach out to friends. Someone who was not Force-sensitive, who was up against incredible odds, and who did what she thought was right regardless.

#obi wan kenobi spoilers #kenobi spoilers #obi wan kenobi #owen lars #haja estree #bail organa #leia organa #padme amidala #Star Wars #so many layers

[brewsterispunkk]

FIND YOU AGAIN

pairing: mando x reader

WC: 1.5k

rating/warnings: none yet

summary: “i will look for you in every lifetime, until we finally stay” or, the beginning of it all

a/n: heyyyy. so i’ve had this in the works for forever. i’m so happy to finally share it with you. this chaoter is mostly exposition!

series masterlist

PART ONE: a long time ago, in agalaxy far, far away

i. the beginning

You freeze in place in your seat at the dusty cantina when he walks in, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.

You’ve never seen a mandalorian before. Not a real one, anyway.

You grew up on Corellia, scavenging the streets of the bustling industrial planet. Naturally, you’ve seen a few pieces of stolen and ancient beskar through the years, but never a full set. Never full beskar armor.

If you weren’t so scared, you would ogle the imposing man like everyone else in the cantina.

You’d been licking your wounds, deciding to day-drink in the local cantina.

You knew it would be only a matter of time until Aven sends one of his goons again after you to collect what he’s owed.

The cut on your cheek from the last time he’d threatened you stings in response. You wince. If you were anywhere else in the galaxy, on a planet like Coruscant, it’d be easy to disappear into the masses. Here, though, it’s nearly impossible. You’re backed into a corner. Maybe a mandalorian is better than the Twi’lek and Zabrak Aven sends to do his dirty work. At least this will be clean.

Your breath freezes in your throat when the Mandalorian comes to a stop on the barstool next to you.

Shit, you think. This is it.

For a moment, you allow yourself to think of all you wish you could’ve done. How much of the galaxy you wanted to see before your life ended. Now, you’d be spending the rest of it in carbonite.

You take a shaky breath as the beskar-clad bounty hunter sits on the stool beside you.

“Okay,” you turn to him. “I won’t put up a fight.”

His helmet tilts toward you as you address him. You gaze into the black of the t-shaped visor.

“I know you’re here for me. I didn’t pay—I get it. But, please, can I say goodbye to someone first?”

His helmet tilts to the side at your words.

“I won’t try to run, I promise.”

“You—“

The words die in his throat as the doors to the cantina swing open. You freeze as the three men you’ve come to recognize as part of Aven’s circle storm in.

There’s the two usual suspects: the twi’lek and Zarback, plus a new man, a human with a scar and an eyepatch.

Their eyes scan through the room and stop on you.

Fuck, maybe the Mandalorian wasn’t sent to get you.

Panic rises in you as they begin to make their way toward you.

Maybe you will die today.

“Get up,” you barely have time to register the deep, modulated voice before a gloved hand is pulling you to your feet roughly.

“Eyes forward, hands behind your back,” he orders. “Now.”

You’re dumbstruck: what the hell is going on? But, you obey. It’s your best bet.

Wordlessly, he clips metal handcuffs around your wrists behind your back, grabbing them with one hand. The Mandalorian shoves you forward roughly.

“Walk.”

You do, tripping over your feet. Your eyes find Aven’s goons at the door, their own eyes watching your exchange with the Mandalorian. They look as confused as you feel.

“That’s right, don’t even think about running,” the Mandalorian pulls you backward toward his chest, the corner of his helmet kissing your cheek. “Because I will catch you.”

You shiver and nod as he pushes you out of the cantina and into the hot, dry Jakku sun.

- -

You take the job because you’re on the run, and you need to get the hell off of Jakku.

Once you leave the cantina, the Mandalorian leads you roughly to the back of the building, coming to a stop in an alley.

Without saying a word, he turns you around and unlocks the cuffs that bind your wrists.

You rub them tenderly. The metal-covered man comes to stand in front of you.

“Those were the men after you, I take it?” He asks.

You furrow your eyebrows and nod.

“I—yeah. What was that?”

“You looked like you could use the help,” he shrugs.

You blanch.

“Well, thanks,” you blink. “But, I don’t know if you’ve done more than delay the inevitable. I’ll be dead by the end of the week if I don’t get off this rock.”

He tilts his head, causing the silver of his helmet to glint in the sun. You sigh.

“I owe this guy—Aven—some money. A lot of money, actually. Then last week, he tried to get me to pay in…other ways. He didn’t take it well when I refused him.”

It was terrible. Your skin crawled just remembering the way his eyes raked over your body when you’d gone to make one of your monthly payments.

“Hm,” the Mandalorian hums.

“So, thanks, but,” you deflate, not knowing how to finish that sentence.

“What if,” he begins, his voice nothing more than a modulated grumble. “You owe me one.”

“I’m sorry?” You ask.

“I helped you out. You owe me a favor.”

“I’d be happy to return it, uh, sir,” you say, tripping over what to call him. “But, you don’t have much time to cash it in.”

“I need help. On my ship.”

“On your…ship?” You ask, heart leaping.

This could be it. Your ticket off of this planet, your freedom.

“I-I’m not a mechanic. I’m a scavenger, I can’t—“

“You good with kids?”

“—what?”

“Kids. You good with them?”

You blink, lost for words. This is …bizarre. A Mandalorian—one that just dragged you out of your favorite cantina—is asking you for …childcare? It’s so comical you almost laugh.

“I guess?”

“I need someone to watch my kid while I work. Travel with me. I can’t keep an eye on him and hunt at the same time.”

“You have a kid?”

He nods.

You stare at the impassive face of his mask and wonder. You’re at a crossroads: do you accept whatever fate Aven has planned for you, or put your future in the hands of a man you’ve only just met?

“Will you take the job?”

You take a breath, before closing your eyes tight.

You open them, and nod.

- -

“He’s …yours?”

The baby is green. The baby is green.

He has big, endless, black eyes and a little button nose situated under. His forehead is wrinkled, and he smiled under clawed hands. He’s …cute. Albeit in a strange way.

You have never before seen a life form even remotely like him. It’s fascinating. What is he doing with a Mandalorian?

“He’s adopted.”

You chuckle at the awkward admission.

The Mandalorian—or, Mando, as he told you to call him—is holding the baby at his hip, in the cockpit of his ship, the Razor Crest. What will be your home for the foreseeable future.

He’s given you the tour already.

The ship is old—pre-empire, but it gets the job done. It’s small, but you’ve never needed much space to live. You’ve never had much space to live. This is just fine.

There’s one bunk. Not ideal, but again: you’ve lived in much worse. He told you that you can take shifts sleeping, that way the kid will always have someone up if he needs it.

The way he cares for the kid is… heart-warming. It seems almost strange: a man so big and hulking, capable of causing so much damage, being so gentle with such a helpless creature. It makes you wonder why he’s trusting you, someone he just met, to care for him.

“He have a name?” You ask, looking at him. The kid just stares at you with big eyes and coos, nonsense coming out.

“Uh…no,” Mando replies. “I usually just call him ‘kid.’”

You’re taken aback, but nod nonetheless.

“Alright. ‘Kid’ it is.”

Mando nods and sets the baby down in his hovering crib.

“Do you…need to retrieve anything before we leave?”

You shake your head and fold your hands in front of you.

“Everything I can own I keep on me. I’ve never had the need for more.”

Mando is silent at that and nods.

“Before,” he says after a moment of silence. “You said there was someone you wanted to say goodbye to. Do you—“

“No,” you interrupt a little too sharply. “I mean, no. There’s nobody.”

For a moment, he looks at you, and you wonder how a visor can hold so much emotion. He stares at you like he can see right through you. And maybe he can under that helmet. Either way, it makes you squirm.

You clear your throat.

“So we can, uhm,” you sit down near one of the windows in the cockpit. “We can leave whenever.”

The mandalorian just nods and goes to prepare for take-off.

Later, before the ship makes the jump to hyperspace, you watch as Jakku fades into a sandy dot in space.

You’re struck with the strange feeling the rest of your life is about to begin

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din x you #din x y/n #din djarin fic #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din x reader #mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandolarian #mando x y/n #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian

[t3mpest98]

The Coruscant Detective Unit

This was really just a silly little idea I had a while ago and I ran with it. Anyways, I thought I’d share with the masses (tho not sure if anyone will see it akskdk) Be warned, it does contain my personal headcannons on the Corrie’s and their commanders

Shoutout to @varpusvaras and @kiss-anon who has enabled all of this and helped me figure many things out akdjfj

Commander: CC- 4477 “Thire”

Captains: CT- 6687 “Spade” and CT- 6799 “Noir”

The CDU is a secret unit of Coruscant Guard troopers living deep inside Coruscant. At the beginning of the war when the first clones were assigned to Coruscant, this unit did not exist. It was only about half a year into the war that it was even ever considered, only after the Commanders realized that the CSF handing off cases to them wasn’t just a once in a while thing. That combined with the unrest growing under the surface was something that would only continue to get worse, and eventually affect the Senate if the people down below grew restless enough.

With Fox already busy handling everything at once, overseeing everything that happens on Coruscant, he wasn’t able to be personally responsible for this unit. Thorn, practically being SIC while also handling most of the patrol duties, was also unable to take the responsibility. With Stone off world most of the time it wouldn’t make sense to have him handling a unit of troopers he would never get to see. Thire, being stationed over the prisons and the youngest, therefore having been kept from taking too much at once, offered to take care of it. And so it was decided that Thire would be their commanding officer.

Now the question was, where would they get the troopers? This unit wasn’t supposed to exist and any attempt at asking for it got shot down by Palpatine since “they did not have a need for one. They oversaw Senate security and nothing more”. They had to have multiple troopers to form this group so the process was slow, subtly sneaking troopers declared KIA down to the lower levels one at a time.

Thire can't be there at all times, or at all really, to directly lead any missions so he would need someone to help him. Luckily he had just the trooper for it. Or rather, he had the troopers for it. ARC twins Spade and Noir were then elevated to the status of Captain. The rest of the Guard knew about this but none of the GAR could. No one really wanted to deal with what would come out of that conversation.

Most of the unit's source of supplies comes from whatever they can steal, salvage, and buy (the last being rare). Anything they get from the Guard is used sparingly. With the limited resources all of them have to begin with, the last thing Spade and Noir want is to put more stress on their commander by making Thire figure out where they got everything they needed. They don’t complain even when the shinies get lightheaded or when breathing gets a little harder.

But when it comes to technology and some extra help outside of their capabilities they have a good friend made a couple months after this unit was formed. Her name is Kasai Cyra, a human from Corellia who’s really good at hiding and even better at putting together scrap. She lives on some of the deepest levels of Coruscant, why that is no one knows. She took one look at them and for some reason couldn’t ignore the fact they needed help.

These three combined are a chaotic mess that somehow are able to succeed more often than not. Of course every mission comes with its casualties that the twins have to bury down deep to keep themselves afloat. Neither can remember how long it had been since they’ve cried with how much they blocked out their emotions. Cyra isn’t much better but the main things she blocks out is the overwhelming helplessness. The fear that she’ll be found, that she’ll be killed, that she will lose everything if she isn’t careful enough.

The only way any of them do not get any terrible side effects from a vitamin d deficiency is by helping out those who run the circle of the supplements. In exchange they get gummies that are easier for the whole of the unit to eat (also Noir is picky). The masks they have to help them breathe down there aren’t really top notch either though. Basically everyone is barely surviving.

They (try) to keep as much peace down below as they can, whether that be by taking care of a group that needs to go or striking deals and helping out those that really need it. The entire unit knows that if they see a teenager stealing any kind of necessity on the street, no they didn’t. Life is hard enough for everyone down there as it is and they don’t want to make it worse for those less fortunate.

That’s all I’ll share for now (I have soooo much more but that can come out later after I am ready) but I hope you like it!

Taglist: @homemade-clones @kimiheartblade @the-bad-batch-baroness @thestarwarslesbian @the-toskaverse @techs-stitches @matchademi @shahrezaad @commander-sunshine @orange-twilek-guy @king-chaos-world @wackylurker @dukeoftheblackstar @kairakara101 @tazmbc1 @sunkissedclones @galaxyofjedi

#star wars #the clone wars #tempest’s ocs #the cdu #coruscant guard #corrie guard #corrie guard oc #oc: spade #oc: noir #oc: cyra/kasai #my ocs <3

[persephone-writes2]

On the Streets of Coruscant

Padawan! Obi-Wan x Fem!reader

Part Two (posted on my new account)

Description: The reader meets the dashingly handsome Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi at a club, deciding to take him to see the sights of Coruscant.

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings & tags: slight swearing (i refuse to use canon swear words), drinking, kissing, lots of fluff, pre phantom menace, everyone is an adult in this! me making up star wars names (this shit is hard!), bittersweet ending, saying “chuckled” too much

Notes: This is the second fic I've ever posted, and its been YEARS. Its also the first time I've written Obi-Wan, so sorry if this is awful! I would appreciate any constructive criticism and reactions <3 Also, this was inspired by these bts pics of Ewan cause ughghghg!!

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The streets of Coruscant were always buzzing, day or night, and whatever the weather. The only refuge one could find from its constant commotion was indoors, preferably on the upper levels, where the noise could be drowned out and the shades could be drawn. While not on the lowest level, Y/N had no such luxury, having to deal with the hustle and bustle no matter what she did. However, it was a small price to pay for leaving Corellia, which was beautiful, yet boring. It wasn't her fault that some of the best schools in the galaxy were located on Coruscant, or that their clubs were so good.

It was Zhellday, which meant Y/N had once again found herself in her and her friends usual club, which one of their fathers owned. It was the best mid-level bar in the region, and they got to drink for cheap, so they rarely went anywhere else. They sat around one of the many small seating areas away from the dance floor, nursing some early drinks and gazing around at the crowd. Ya'sami, a twi'lek who had come to Coruscant for the same reason as Y/N, quickly downed their drink, smiling at the group.

"Someone dance with me," they said, looking around at the group.

Ripp shook his head. "I'm not drunk enough." They all knew you had to get Ripp good and drunk if he was going to dance.

"Alright," Y/N said in an exaggeratedly annoyed tone, "If you insist."

"Finally!" Ya'sami laughed, "Its what we come for, is it not?"

Laughing, Ya'sami took Y/N's hand and led them to the dance floor. The music was annoyingly loud, but neither noticed, forgetting their loads of schoolwork and impending due-dates in favor of the drumming boom of sound. The music was different on Coruscant than it was on Corellia. While Corellia wasn’t known for its soft melody’s or brooding lyrics, Coruscant’s made it seem so. On Coruscant, music was meant for partying, and Y/N took it up on its enticing offer.

After a while, Y/N grew parched, and yelled to Ya'sami over the noise, "I'm going to the bar!" Ya'sami kept on dancing, now in their own little groove.

Y/N pushed through the thick crowd, bumping elbows but trying her best to be polite. She muscled her way to the front, finding a small empty space along the surface of the bar. She rested her elbows against it, waiting for the bartender, who knew her well, to come over. It would take a while, since it was peak hours on a Zhellday, but she didn't mind. It was nice to cool off, as she could feel her arms growing sticky with the heat of all the bodies pressed into one room.

The bartender came up to give the man beside her his drink, throwing her an apologetic look. "Sorry Y/N, I'm swamped, I'll be there in a minute."

"No problem," she said, smiling.

Just as the space opened up next to her, another came to take his place. She felt something rough brush against her arm, and glancing over, she caught a look at the unfairly attractive man next to her. She looked away quickly, smiling sheepishly to herself. Even as an adult, Y/N always felt like a schoolgirl around attractive people. Trying to act inconspicuous, she dared another glance. His hair was a reddish brown, cropped short and spiky around his face. His nose was straight and his brow was strong. As the colored lights danced against his face, she noticed a small dimple on his chin. Stars, was he cute. Furrowing her brows, Y/N first thought it strange to wear such an outfit at a club of all places. His robes were plain and loose upon his chest, his deep brown cloak draped over his shoulders and billowing down to the floor. Then, the realization hit her as her eyes honed in on the small braid cascading down his left shoulder.

Y/N looked away quickly, head reeling. She knew little about the Jedi, only what her friend from Coruscant had told her. "Very secretive," Ripp had said, "All any normal person really knows about them is their 'force' or whatever it is, and their light sabers. And, once when I was a kid, I heard one got kicked out because he was seeing a woman on the outside."

And, Y/N had found out one way or another, before they were Jedi Masters, they wore a long braid on the side of their head.

Nothing Y/N knew about them said they couldn't go to clubs on their nights off, or did they even get a night off? Even if they technically could, Y/N had never seen one casually grabbing a drink anywhere, or even heard about it. It seemed like something people would gossip about.

The bartender came wizzing around the corner. The man, or rather Jedi, beside Y/N stuck his hand out as he passed.

"I'm looking for someone named-" he began in a strong Coruscanti accent. The bartender only glanced his way.

"Sorry kid, I'm a little busy," he said before quickly walking away, carrying far too many drinks.

The Jedi huffed, hanging his head for a moment before looking back at the sea of people. Before Y/N even knew what she was doing, she turned to the handsome stranger.

"I might know who you're looking for."

He turned to her, eyes blue and bright, and she nearly gasped. Stars, she kept saying over and over in her head, stars, stars, stars.

He raised his eye brows at her, looking around for moment before turning back to her gaze. Her eyes bounced around, fearing he may be able to tell she fancied him just by looking at her.

"You might?" he asked, clearly surprised, though Y/N didn't know what exactly for. Was he shocked that she was listening to him, or that some random club-goer dared to speak to him, a Jedi-in-training. She couldn't think about it for too long, as he was waiting for an answer.

"Y-yeah," she stuttered, "I come here a lot, and my friends father owns the place."

He nodded, giving her a small smile, making her nerves build even more than they had before. She wasn't sure if it was because he was so handsome, or the fact that she knew he had a light saber stashed under his robes and lived in the big temple on the upper level.

"I'm looking for a Mirialan named Craz. He's said to spend some time here." He looked at her sternly, yet with a clam air about him. Y/N had expected him to be arrogant, someone of such importance. However, she had the feeling he was not at all, despite the authority he could so easily command. Although he was on the job, or so she assumed, he posture was relaxed and easy like his robes.

She shook her head, feeling guilty or taking up his time when she had no answers. He only looked slightly disappointed, a crease forming between his brows.

As he went to speak, Y/N interrupted, again without thinking. The thought of him leaving, without learning even so much as his name, made her want to prolong it as long as she could. She told herself it was curiosity, rather than hopeless attraction.

"My friends might know, though! Most of them have been living here longer than I have."

His eyes turned upwards in thought before he glanced around. He shrugged, smiling once again. "Thank you," he said, letting Y/N lead the way from the bar.

She could feel him following behind her, so close yet never touching. Weaving through the crowd, she looked back once to see if he was still there or had been lost amongst the people. He was, catching her looking and staring straight into her eyes. While he was not smiling, he seemed somewhat amused at her guilty glance. She realized it was foolish to think he, a Jedi, might have lost his way.

They made their way to her friends, most of which were still sitting at the spot where she left them. While a few had gone to dance, Ripp, whos father was the owner, was thankfully still there. If anyone would know who the man was, it would be him.

"Guys," she said, the man standing beside her, "this is..." She faltered.

"Obi-Wan," he said.

Ripp's eye went wide, and Y/N could feel her face heat up already. She should have known they'd freak out at the sight of her bringing along a Jedi.

Dani, who was sitting beside Ripp, began to giggle. Y/N rolled her eyes, knowing it was he was handsome.

"What brings a gentleman such as yourself into a place like this?" Ripp joked. Dani bit her lip, making Y/N want to crawl inside of herself. Obi-Wan either didn't notice Dani's shameless display or chose not to react. Rather, he chuckled at Ripp's joke.

"I am looking for a Mirilalan, Craz. I was told you may know where he is."

"Oh, I know Craz," Ripp answered, leaning back into the couch, "My father had to throw him out of here a few months ago and told him never to come back."

Obi-Wan put a hand on his chin in thought. "Do you know where he might be these days?"

Ripp shook his head, "No clue, sorry."

Obi-Wan huffed, placing a hand on his hip. In doing so, he revealed his light saber hanging from the leather belt along his waist. Y/N had never seen one up close, only catching glimpses on the holo. It's impressiveness did not escape her, nor did its elegance. For a moment she wondered if he would let her see it closer if she asked, though she promptly pushed this thought from her mind. Not only would it be rude, but she felt as if outside eyes on such a weapon could somehow tarnish its great power.

Besides the deadly force hanging from his belt, Obi-Wan appeared the more normal he had all night. His stance was even more relaxed than it had been before, as if he was just another club-goer waiting on a drink.

After a moment of thought, Obi-Wan spoke again, "Thank you for your help, and I apologize for taking so much of your time."

Y/N nearly laughed, for he had not taken more than a minute. She wondered if all Jedi were so polite. As he turned to leave, Ripp called after him, not hiding his excitement, "Nice meeting you, Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan turned and smirked, offering a courteous, "Likewise." before walking away.

As he disappeared into the crowd, Dani stared dreamily into the distance. "Ya'sami's going to be so mad when she hears about this! Stars, are all Jedi that cute?"

"He can probably still hear you," Ripp joked, making Dani go pink.

For the third time that evening, Y/N acted without thinking, all due to the handsome Jedi. Without responding to her friends, she turned and followed after Obi-Wan, trying to reach him in the crowd. He was hard to spot, but she caught him skirting around the dance floor, robe flowing behind. As she neared him, she shouted his name. He turned, not looking all that surprised. Perhaps he sensed me coming.

"Yes?" he asked, accent smooth and level, even through all the noise.

She hadn't thought of what she was going to say, and her heart began racing, threatening to burst from her chest. She had never acted on so many impulses in one night before, usually allowing herself a single bad decision and refraining from the rest. The common culprits were almost always benign, such as one too many drinks or dancing too close to a handsy guy. Never had she been so forward with someone who she knew, deep down, would never fall for her advances.

"I-I," she stuttered. Maker, get yourself together. "I feel bad, for not helping you more, taking up your time."

He did not laugh, but looked at her with a soft pity. "It's quite alright. Your friend provided me with important information. I will search elsewhere."

Elsewhere, not here, not with me.

"Well, let me at least buy you a drink," she offered, smiling. Seeing his reservations, she offered another excuse, "I get them half off anyway."

He thought for a moment, tilting his head slightly before meeting her eyes. Could Jedi even drink?

“Come on,” she pleaded, growing a bit desperate. Embarrassed by her own words, she attempted to backpedal a bit, “one for the road.”

"Alright, if you insist," he answered, looking towards the bar. They found a spot to wait, Obi-Wan resting an elbow against it and peering out across the room. Y/N angled towards him slightly, though kept a polite distance.

"I'm Y/N," she said, holding out her hand.

He took it, handshake far softer than she expected. She felt a spark run up her arm.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Y/N".

She loved the way her name sounded on his lips. She never was one to swoon over the Coruscanti accent, as she had run across many travelers with it on Corellia. There was just something about his voice, subtle but strong, serious on the edge of jest.

"Are you allowed to tell me what this Craz has done to warrant your search?" Y/N was half joking and half curious, especially since learning that Ripps father had thrown him out not too long ago.

"He's an important member of a crime syndicate that runs out of the lower levels, but they've been making their way up the city for some time now."

"Maker, I didn't know we got those kinds of characters in here." She truly was shocked, for she had only seen a few fights break out here, and never with blasters.

"You usually don't. It's easier to keep it contained if they don't spread levels, which is why I'm here."

The bartender interrupted them, looking a bit dazed due to his consent running around.

"Y/N," he said, and then looking towards Obi-Wan, "Sorry about before, Kid. What do you need?"

Obi-Wan replied before Y/N had the chance, "It's all taken care of."

The bartender looked pleased to not have to answer any questions on such a busy night. "So, what can I get you?"

"I'll have a phattro," Y/N began, "And you'll have.." she said, looking towards Obi-Wan.

"A corellian," he said, glancing towards her with a thankful nod.

"A phattro and a corellian," the bartender repeated before walking away to make the drinks.

Y/N smiled towards Obi-Wan. "A corellian," she said slyly. Obi-Wan gave her an amused look. "Thats where I'm from."

"A planet rich with history," he offered, for the first time seemingly genuinely intrigued.

"Yes, and a stagnant present," she chuckled dryly, "have you ever been there?"

He shook his head. "I have not had the pleasure."

"I'd say it is more of a pleasure that you haven't been there. It's excitements pale in comparison to Coruscant, unless you enjoy working long hours on ships."

For the first time, he fully laughed, rather than a reserved chuckle. His eyes shined in the lights, forcing Y/N to look away before her knees gave out.

"I'm not much for flying," said Obi-Wan, still looking at her, "My strong suits lay elsewhere."

"And where may that be?" She leaned in a bit closer to him, for a moment forgetting he was not just a man she met at the bar who happened to catch her eye. He did not move away or look displeased. In fact, he appeared amused.

"Conversation," he answered simply.

The bartender came over with their drinks.

“Put it on my tab,” she said to the bartender, who nodded and walked off.

Y/N watched as Obi-Wan took a sip of his, emptying half of the small glass.

"Then I shall test your abilities," she said, smirking as she lead him away from the bar and into the crowd. They stood amongst the others for a moment, now closer than they had been to each other all night. Once again, his cloak pressed against her shoulder, though she now felt his arm beneath it. She tried to hide her childish joy at the barely-there connection, taking a sip of her drink.

It was a bit louder now that they moved farther into the thick of things. Obi-Wan was forced to lean closer to her ear as he spoke, "Did you come to Coruscant only for the excitements?"

She couldn't help but laugh, "No, I go to the university. The night life is only a bonus."

"What are your studies in?" he asked, surprising Y/N for the umptenth time. She hadn't expected him to be interested in her life.

"Intergalatic relations. I hope to work for senatorial office one day."

He smiled brightly. Stars, he had a lovely smile.

"An honorable profession."

She could feel his eyes on her as he spoke, swearing she could catch him daring a look at her outfit, which was far more flashy than she would wear in her day-to-day life. Rather than feeling embarrassed, she thanked herself for putting so much thought in her partying appearance, which Ya'sami had said was totally smokin'. At the time she had brushed it off, laughing, though now she realized Ya'sami may have been right.

"Not as honorable as yours," she chuckled nervously. It was the first time either of them had hinted at him being a Jedi, and she soon feared that it would scare him away. While he did not seem to be easily frightened, rather on the contrary, she did not know if he was bending any rules to have a drink with her.

He looked away, seeming to remember his place for a moment. To Y/N's delight, he turned back quickly.

"We all have our place," he offered, "Without the senatorial office, who knows what would have become of me."

Boldly, Y/N began to push the boundaries of whatever this was. "I'm sure you would've done great things either way. I can't imagine you back home in the shipyards."

"Without the Corellian shipyards, where would the senate procure their greatest ships?" His question came off not as defensive, or even as if he was trying to steer the conversation away from himself. Rather, Y/N had the feeling she had genuinely engaged him in an interesting topic of conversation. She tried not to let her chest swell with a strange sort of pride.

"I have to say, your respect for my home world surprises me, especially due to their exceedingly cold attitude towards the Senate."

He laughed, making Y/N wonder how she could make him do it again. She wanted to listen to him laugh all night.

"I am starting to see why you left."

"Perhaps you are coddled by the comforts of Coruscant. Though I'd think that you've traveled to your fair share of systems." She took a sip of her drink, watching him from the corner of her eye. A pink light shined against the back of his head, highlighting his spiky hair.

"It's one of the perks," he said before finishing the rest of his drink. Fuck, he'll probably leave now.

Thankfully, he kept talking, "Though you often do not get the chance to sight-see."

"What a shame." She sincerely felt sorry for Obi-Wan, realizing that he likely didn't get out much. Perhaps thats why he allowed her to buy him a drink, why he so thoughtfully indulged her wishes to entertain him, even for a few minutes.

As she thought on this more, she pondered the possibility that he had never been taken around Coruscant, shown the touristy landmarks that everyone visits when they first arrive. Likely he had been all around the city, though it was probably for work with the inability to stop and take it all in. All at once, she had the ludicrous, irresponsible idea of taking his hand and dragging him around to all the sights that enthrall the thousands of tourists that flood the streets everyday.

"I assume you've seen the sights of Coruscant?" she asked shyly, internally pleading that he would say no.

He shook his head and she forced herself to not jump for joy. "Only in passing, though I know my way around the lower levels quite well. But I do not think that is what you meant," he chuckled.

All too eagerly, she spoke in excitement, "Well, how much time do you have?"

He sighed, looking weary. She could tell he was going over the time in his head, thinking about going along with her across the city, and about whoever was waiting for him back at the temple.

"I really shouldn't..." he said, mostly to himself. A smile began to form at the corner of his mouth.

"Come on," she pried, grinning up at him, "It'll only take a little while. Just call it a much needed break." In an act of flirtatious desperation, she held out her hand for him to take. Looking down at it, then up to her, he placed his hand in hers, smiling.

She quickly began leading, or rather pulling him towards the exit of the club. As they passed a small table, they each half hazzardly placed their drink down. For a moment she remembered she was here with friends, who were likely wondering where she was, though she hadn't the mind to care. Caught up in the temptation of spending the evening with Obi-Wan, with whom she had grown more and more enthralled with, Y/N giddily pushed the heavy doors to walk out into the cool city night. Now outside, the music was muffled, yet the bass was still heavy in the air. Despite the crisp temperature, Y/N's body was still warm with the heat of the club, and with the feeling of Obi-Wan's hand clasped in hers. She turned back to look at him, who was a bit more collected than herself, but still more carefree than he had been in the club. Perhaps he wasn’t used to suck loud music, or being surrounded by drunk patrons looking to dance. Slowly and to her glee, she could tell he was forgetting the original purpose of his visit.

"So, do you have a preference to where we got first, or I shall I choose?" she asked.

Obi-Wan answered quickly, "You choose."

"To the Plaza then," she said, beginning to walk down the crowded street. Hands still in one anothers, she lead Obi-Wan down the enclosed street towards an opening to the roadway. They each looked out across the wide space filled with cruisers and neon lights on the side of the skyscrapers. Billboards flashed bright images which reflected upon the fast moving cruises, pictures clear against the long transports. Openings in the platforms above revealed the deep black of the night sky, which did not shine with stars.

"Its the one thing I miss about Corellia," she began, staring up at the sky, "The stars."

Obi-Wan looked up and then back at her, though she did not notice, too busy imagining what night looked like on Corellia.

"I remember the first time I saw them," he said with a sigh. Y/N turned towards him, gently holding his hand a bit tighter. "It was on Noe'ha'on. Before then I had only seen them in ships, or briefly on the holo."

For the second time, Y/N felt sorry for Obi-Wan. She almost made herself laugh at the thought of feeling sorry for a Jedi.

He began again, "It was if I was seeing them for the first time. I could not imagine anything in the galaxy more beautiful."

They were staring at each other now, and Y/N felt her heart begin beating faster. She wished he was talking about her and not to her. For an instant, she thought about saying no, you're the most beautiful thing in the galaxy. Then, fear struck her. Could he hear what she was thinking?

"You must see them a lot now, going place to place."

"Yes, but they deserve a moment of peace which does not often find itself on missions.” He seemed to grow lost in thought, and Y/N enjoyed simply watching him think for a moment.

"When I was a little girl,” she said, breaking the silence, “I would sit and look at them for hours. In the winter, if you were lucky, sometimes you could catch aurora borealis." She began to think about showing Obi-Wan the show of lights that would grace the Corellian skies.

He smiled at her words. "I have seen that too, though only once. That was long ago."

"Its too bad I can't show you that tonight," she said with a sad smile, "though I will keep my promise and show you what the travelers come for!" Her excitement returned, and she turned to hail a taxi. One came wizzing by and to an abrupt stop in front of them. The door slid open, and Y/N was forced to let go of Obi-Wan's hand. She mourned the loss of his touch, which she did not expect she would receive again. The excuse to take his hand was all but gone, so she settle for sitting next to him.

The droid asked them their destination, with Y/N answering in the calmest manner she could muster. She thought it wise to hide her elation at his company, attempting to present an air of coolness that would likely fail. Obi-Wan had not yet recoiled fully at her advances of friendship, which she was thankful for.

Y/N looked out the window of the taxi, watching as it climbed through the air towards the upper levels. She had been on Coruscant for a year now, but the foreign beauty of the city was not yet lost on her. Obi-Wan watched her expression of wonder at the sights, which she was meant to be showing him. He chuckled at her childlike enrapture, making her turn to him with a confused look.

"Are you making fun of me?" she asked in amusement. He seemed a bit horrified at the thought of offending her.

"Oh, no, I-"

She cut him off with laughter., “I'm only teasing."

He visibly relaxed at her words, his smiling returning.

"I still can't get over the sight of the city at night," she explained, "I lived a ways off from any city on Corellia. I'm not entirely used to it yet, though I'm not sure I want to be."

"Wonder is a great gift," his voice was tender, much softer than before, "most loose it as they grow."

Her chest warmed at his words, feeling fuzzy. She had never met anyone like Obi-Wan, and not just because he was a Jedi. His poise came off not as a cockiness, but rather comfortably dignified. She did not get the impression that he thought her below him, even though she met him as he was on some important work and she was blowing off steam at a club. They way he took her hand so easily, the way he allowed her to take him away in a taxi, and the way in which he complimented a trait of hers she often felt insecure about; her ceaseless wonder at the world around her, made her feel as though she could tell him anything. She fought the urge to tell him just that, that she felt as though she could tell him anything. Don't scare him away.

"You're very kind," she said instead, feeling as if it was somewhat comparable to her true thoughts.

He smiled softly. Y/N reasoned that he smiled at everyone that way.

"Kindness is also a virtue, though I do not lie. It would do many good if they had a bit more wonder left in them." He seemed serious, and under any other circumstance, Y/N would have expected him to reach out and touch her. Stars, did she want him to, though she knew he would not.

"They say it's a Corellian thing, we've always got an itch."

He pondered her words before speaking. Y/N noted that he always spoke carefully and with purpose.

"Can you truly assign a trait to an entire planet?" he asked with a chuckle.

She knew she wasn't meant to answer, but she shrugged anyhow, deciding to tease him. "Lets see. Where are you from?"

"Well, I'd normally say I was from Coruscant, though I was not born here. I was born on Stewjon." She sensed something stir within him. Perhaps she should not have asked where he was from. Y/N did not know how the Jedi got to the temple, if their parents were also Jedi who lived in the temple, or if they were normal people. Her understanding of the force of elementary at best, having no clue if it was hereditary or something which just occurred. All she knew was Ripp's words, I heard one got kicked out because he was seeing a woman on the outside. Did they mean they could date on the inside, or not at all? Either way, she knew she had little to no chance of catching his eye.

Before she was fully caught up in her thoughts, she folded, "Hm, you've seemed to beat me. I know almost nothing about Stewjon."

He smirked, looking quite proud of himself, though Y/N knew it was just an act.

"I thought you said you were a intergalatic relations student?" he taunted. She flashed him a glare, though a smile played on her lips.

"It's impossible to know things about every system. Though, if you'd like to test me, ask me about someplace else." An impish glimmer shined in her eyes.

Obi-Wan thought for a moment, placing a hand on his chin.

"Hm, what about Kerev Doi?"

"Kerev Doi," she repeated slowly, searching her mind, "Located along the Nanth'ri Trade Route, it is home to Bodach'i. It's economy is mainly dependent on its spice mining, though it is aided by the various crime syndicates which have their hands in a variety of different enterprises across the planet, which I am sure you must be well aware of," she answered proudly, holding her head up high, "Would you like more?"

He raised his brows, chuckling at her manner. "No, you have proven yourself a fine student."

She giggled, catching herself smirking at him in a not so friendly manner. Darting her eyes away, she cleared her throat, "Thank you."

The taxi came to a rushing stop, with the droid announcing they have arrived at their location. Y/N reached into her bag for credits, but Obi-Wan beat her to it, pulling some out of his robes.

"Allow me," he said in passing, handing over the credits and stepping out onto the platform. Butterflies erupted in her stomach at the simple gesture, even more so when Obi-Wan leaned over and offered his hand to her as she stepped out.

"Thanks," she said, trying to hide her smile. He only nodded at her, turning to look at the Plaza. It was even busier than the streets outside of the club, though the people were far more diverse. Visitors of all ages crowded around the street vendors, many others lazily strolling around the open space. A few long lines of people were gathered outside of restaurants, others coming in and out of the shops.

"I've never been here at night," Obi-Wan said, a bit breathless, "and I have never gotten the chance to look around."

It was the first time that night that Obi-Wan seemed to be the one mesmerized and not Y/N. The change gave her a hope that she knew she shouldn't have, though she let it lead her anyway. She instinctually looped her arm through his and began walking into the Plaza. Obi-Wan looked down at their linked arms but did not comment, nor pull away.

They strolled through the Plaza at a leisurely pace, each gazing around at nothing in particular. Y/N stopped them in front of a restaurant, which emitted soft music from its closed doors.

"Have you ever been to this one," she asked, pointing at the restaurant.

He shook his head.

"Me either. Ripp says its been here practically forever, but you need to make reservations a year in advance," she laughed, "I also heard it's wildly expensive."

"I've been to a few fancy banquets," he began as they started walking again, "but I personally feel they're overrated."

"Well, thats good for me," she joked, wondering where he would have found himself at a banquet.

"If I am being honest, I have found the best food is often not found in such places. You have to go to the seedy parts of town," he chuckled, gazing at her as if she was an old friend.

She laughed along with him, feeling whatever tension she was once experiencing wash away. She had all but forgotten her promise not to scare him away, giving into her desire to speak with him as if he weren't a Jedi.

They began walking down one side of the Plaza, stopping to look in the window of a shop. The display was filled with items of all sorts; jewelry, beautiful glass blown bowls and vessels, and at its center a metal sculpture.

“There’s a sculpture like that on Mandalore,” he said, pointing to it.

“You’ve been to Mandalore?” She asked excitedly. He nodded. “Tell me what it’s like.”

He paused to collect his words, each still looking at the sculpture in the window. “It is quite unique, the architecture is magnificent, unlike anything in the galaxy that I’ve had the chance to see.” He turned to her. “There’s more metal than you’ve ever seen, everywhere you turn it is there, towering above and below. Thats another system with a rich history, though I am sure you know all about it.”

“Yes, it is fascinating,” was all she could muster at the moment, imagining it. “I’d love to visit one day.”

“If you work for the Senate, I’m sure you will find yourself in many different places.”

“Yes, well, I’m still taking in Coruscant," she said with a sigh.

They strolled along, chatting as they went, with Y/N asking most of the questions. She learned of some of the places Obi-Wan has been over the years, though did not pry into why he was there. She knew it was likely on Jedi business, assuming that such things should be kept secret, or least not told out in the open. At the sight of a display of dresses, Y/N began telling him about a festival on her home world.

“It happens every spring, there’s a big band on this stage in the center of town, with ships flying overhead. The streets are decorated with banners and flowers. Stars, it’s beautiful. There’s dancers as well. One year, not too long ago, I danced. It took months of practice, and when we all walked into the streets I thought that I might faint. We wore dresses just like that,” she spoke animatedly, recalling the joy she had felt at the festival, one of the only times she did not find living on Corellia boring. Obi-Wan listened to her intently, holding on the every word as he pictured her description.

“I would have liked to see that,” he said with a wide smile.

“I’m sure you can make an excuse to see it one day,” she replied, though he shook his head with a laugh.

“No, I meant that I would have liked to see you.”

Y/N felt her face warm, and too embarrassed to look at him, cast her eyes downward. They began walking once again, this time with her leading him towards the center of the Plaza. They soon neared Umate, and at the sight of the mountain peak, Y/N pointed.

"Look!" she said, pulling him towards the protruding rock. As they came towards it, she looked over to Obi-Wan. "You must have seen the peak before."

He stared at the tip of the mountain, deep in thought. The warm glow of the street lamps showed the contours and ridges on its surface. Every time Y/N saw it, she couldn't help but picture the vast surface which lay beneath the platform, all the way down to the planets surface.

Almost whispering, he answered, "Only in passing."

They each stood gazing at the peak, Obi-Wan spoke seemingly to himself, "The only uncovered surface."

Arms still linked, Y/N slowly inched her hand up without realizing what she was doing, softly gripping his arm. She felt Obi-Wan tense, and at the realization of what she was doing, she quickly dropped her hand, though did not drop her arm from his completely. Neither said a word, and Y/N feared she had shattered their bubble. Now you've done it.

As she kicked herself, Obi-Wan looked past the peak and towards a vendor. He turned to her, and if Y/N hadn't known better, she'd think he looked nervous.

"Y/N?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes?" she said, a bit surprised and wondering if he was going to say he had to leave, that she had shown him enough.

On the contrary, his eyes looked back towards the vendor. "I have to admit something."

Intrigued, her confused expression turned into a smile. "What?"

"I've never had a popsicle, and I was wondering if we could-"

Before he could finish, Y/N grinned and began pulling him in the direction of the vendor. Obi-Wan began to laugh, making her chuckle along with him.

"This is the kind of initiative I like to see!" she joked, leading them to stand in line.

"My masters going to kill me." His tone was light hearted enough, though Y/N got the sense he wasn't entirely joking. However, in the moment, he seemed receptive, so she allowed herself to ask him a question.

"You master?"

His gaze met hers before she glanced at his braid which was now thrown behind his shoulder. She longed to run her hands down it and ask him why all young Jedi had one.

"Yes, all Padawans are paired with a Master until they become Knights," he explained, eyes dancing across her face.

"Padawan, knight," she repeated, then laughed to herself, "you're making me realize there are a million things I do not know."

"I am sure you know more than me about many things," his voice was soft and tender as it was before in the taxi. She felt herself begin to melt.

She shook her head. "I don't think so," she paused, "At least not about many things."

"Seeing is not knowing," Obi-Wan commented, head turning to peer at his surroundings. "I am not yet a knight, and there are many things I have not come to learn."

"The we are the same, I am still a student myself," she retorted. Obi-Wan seemed to have been defeated, not saying anything further on the subject. In his silence, she wondered how a Jedi could never think she, a simple student at the university, could possibly know more than him about anything. In comparison, she had been almost nowhere, seen almost nothing. One of the only things she had an upper hand on was knowing how much rent cost in Coruscant, or possibly what a good deal on a ship was due to her childhood spent among the shipyards.

They had now moved to the front of the line, the vendor asking what flavors they'd like. Obi-Wan looked to her, unable to answer. Y/N ordered for them each, paying before Obi-Wan had the chance.

"My treat this time," she said to him with a small smile. He looked at her thankfully, taking his popsicle.

As they began eating, Y/N lead them to a bench. Their arms came a part as they sat, making her sigh. She hoped Obi-Wan had taken it for contentment, rather than disappointment.

"So," she said between licks, "Is this not the best night of your life?"

Obi-Wan chuckled. I did that, she thought.

"Its in the running." His smile had not ceased, much to Y/N's delight.

They ate their popsicles in mostly silence, with Y/N pointing to a few other shops, telling Obi-Wan about what was inside. A bit of Obi-Wan's began to run down his hand, making each of them laugh. For a moment it felt as though they were both normal people, both simply club-goers who happened to cross paths. After they both had finished, Y/N smiled at him, then nodded to the waste basket a ways away.

"Think you can make it in?" She asked, head cocked. Even though she didn't know squat about the force, she figured making a stick into a waist basket was likely child's play to him.

He gave her a devilish look, and smiling, placed a hand over his eyes. Then, he threw the stick, which expertly landed in the center of the basket. Removing his hand, he grinned.

"Lucky shot," she challenged, holding out her stick for him to take. He did so happily, doing the same thing again and wielding the same result.

Rolling her eyes at him, Y/N decided to be bold. "Does your master usually send you out alone?"

"It is unusual, though it depends on the mission. Searching for a criminal, especially without a set location, can be done alone."

The freeness to which he answered the question gave Y/N the hope that she may have the opportunity to ask more about him, though she did not want to overdo it.

"My life must seem boring in comparison." She retreated inwards for a moment, all too aware of how he might see her, as just some random student.

"I long for boredom," he said, not seeming to be joking. Y/N gave him an odd look, making him smile. "Tell me about the university. What is it like?"

She felt her face heat at the thought of him caring about her life, what she did. How could she make anything interesting to him? Even to her it was often dull.

"It was quite scary at first, leaving home and coming to a place like this," she paused, thinking his question over, "But it's interesting, learning about all the different star systems, the politics, how the Republic is structured. It all felt so little at home, even with all the travelers that would come in and out of the ports. Now it's as if I'm in the thick of everything all at once. I could spend hours in the University archives, reading about all these little planets and moons that I didn't even know existed."

Lost in her rambling, she did not catch the twitch in Obi-Wan's hand, nor the fascination on his face.

"You'd love the archives at the Temple," he said, turning away to look at the Plaza. Y/N kept her eyes on his profile, which she wanted to keep in her memory as long as she could.

"I can only imagine," she said with a soft breath, "You could never get me to leave."

He looked back to her. "I wish I could bring you there, in repayment for tonight."

She smirked, biting her lip before she could stop herself. Obi-Wan stayed where he was, head now angled towards hers.

"No, your company is enough," she replied sweetly, the urge to reach out her hand and touch his shoulder almost too much to resist.

“I have always appreciated the city for its beauty, for the energy which permeates its every corner. Yet, I have never seen it in this light.”

Obi-Wan sighed, eyes softening. Under the lights of the Plaza, they look dazzlingly blue, reminding her of the ocean back home. After an entire night of stopping herself from saying something foolish, Y/N gave in fully, throwing all caution and embressment to the wind.

"Your eyes," she whispered, forgetting about the people passing by and the chatter of their voices, "they're just like the oceans on Corellia. Clear, like aquamarine."

Obi-Wan breathed in sharply, staring at her with a clipped intensity, as if he was holding himself back. His robes, loose around his chest, billowed as his shoulders relaxed, revealing a sliver of his golden skin. Obi-Wan did not speak, eyes darting across her face. Slowly and with great care, Y/N lifted her hand and placed it on his shoulder as she had wanted to before. It inched towards the hood of his robe, all the while Obi-Wan allowed her to do so, making no move to stop it. Her nerves went wild, shooting bursts of warmth all through her, up her arms and down her spine. With a final press into the rough texture of his robes, she reached up towards his face, brushing his cheek with the backs of her fingers. Obi-Wan shuttered, so slightly that Y/N would have missed it if she hadn't have been fully taking him in, absorbed in his presence.

Breaking her from her trance, Obi-Wan reached for her hand, taking it in his. He brought it down to his chest, cradling it softly.

"Y/N..." he began, rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand.

"I know," she said, not waiting for him to finish.

He sighed deeply, dropping his head and looking at her hand within his, still moving his thumb back and forth. His expression was blank, though a crease formed between his brows. Just like before, she thought.

While much of Obi-Wan was still a mystery, she knew he was overthinking every step he had made that night, her hand in his, arms linked, the fast beating of their hearts. She longed to stop his train of thought, to tell him that it was all okay, that this was far from bad. Out of pure instinct and selfish desire, she leaned down to catch his eyes. Below his face, she stared up at him, who for the first time that night appeared entirely unsure of himself. While he had seemed weary before, never was he so lost, completely out of his element. His inner turmoil played out within his eyes, though as she looked into them, the more he seemed to bend. She glanced at his lips, which were slightly parted, sucking in a breath as she slowly moved forward. Giving him time to pull away, to jump back and send her off, she placed the hand that was not in his on his opposite shoulder. With Obi-Wan's head still tilted forward, their lips softly met.

Her heart fluttered even though neither of them moved. The touch of his lips against hers was impossibly delicate, as if it was the first time she had ever kissed someone. She feared that deepening the kiss or moving an inch would scare him away, but was still content with its simplicity. Obi-Wan released her hand, moving to cup her cheek. Smiling into the kiss, she took as an innovation to go further. She opened her mouth, pressing harder into him. He responded slowly, yet did not pull away. Rather, he leaned in as well, allowing her to carefully run her tongue along his lower lip. Sighing deeply, he moved away, though not far. Y/N could feel his warm breath upon her, and she smiled sheepishly.

Their eyes met, and Obi-Wan began to stroke her face with his thumb as he had done with her hand. She fisted the robes which lay across his shoulder, body moving towards his.

The guilt then came upon her, flooding her with a unique shame. She looked into his eyes and spoke softly, "I'm sorry, I-" she faltered. Obi-Wan's expression changed to that of sadness, or perhaps pity.

"It is my fault," his voice was thin, as if it were spread taut. Y/N placed both her hands on his face, letting her head fall against his chest. For a moment Obi-Wan did nothing but keep his hand where it was on her cheek, though soon brought her face back up to at his. "There is a code," he whispered, "It is my duty to keep to it. I should not have allowed myself such an indulgence."

All this time Y/N had thought he was indulging her, and his admission causing a pang within her heart. Her hands dropped from his face.

"But I should not have done that," she said with full sincerity.

He smiled sadly, studying her face which was still in his hands. He brushed the backs of his fingers across it again.

"I have never," he paused, sighing to himself, "You are lovely, Y/N, and you have given me a great gift,” he stopped, pressing his lips together tightly as if to keep himself from speaking further. With another shaky exhale, he dropped his eyes from hers.

"I have never met anyone like you," she said, hoping he knew what she meant. It was not that she had never met a Jedi. No, she had simply never met a man, or person like himself.

"Likewise," he answered, chuckling dryly, looking back into her eyes.

They both sat for a moment looking at one another, not saying a word. Y/N hoped to prolong his departure as much as she could, feeling it coming upon them far faster than she would have liked. She studied the shape of his kind eyes, his strong chin, his lips which were now stern. The desire to memorize him was given into greedily, just as she had given into their kiss. It was almost gluttonous, the way she took in the last remaining drops of his presence. Don’t forget his eyes, don’t forget his words, don’t forget our kiss.

She nearly stopped herself from speaking, though reasoned that it was no use now. She had already shown him all he could know. "I wish it were different," her voice barely cracked, though she knew he noticed.

"As do I." He dropped his gaze again, and they each sat quietly for a while, how long Y/N could not tell. It could have been ten seconds or ten hours before he spoke again, "I must go," his voice trailed off.

Y/N moved away from him as he stood, already missing their closeness. He stared out across the Plaza for a long moment before turning back to her, who was watching him, thinking about his braid. “Let me see that you return safely,” he offered. Y/N shook her head.

“I have plenty of credits for a taxi,” she replied, still feeling a bit dazed from their kiss.

“Are you sure?” He asked, seeming quite concerned. If she wasn’t so forlorn, she would have laughed.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m used to getting home at night.”

Looking somewhat disappointed in her stubbornness, Obi-Wan leaned down and kissed her temple, holding his lips there a for a moment longer than she had expected.

Half to herself, Y/N spoke out into the night at no one in particular, “I’ll never see you again, will I?”

Again, Obi-Wan smiled down at her. “Perhaps one day.”

Then, Obi-Wan walked away into the crowd. Y/N soon lost him amongst the rest of the people, a strange feeling stirring in her stomach. She didn’t expect to ever meet anyone like him ever again, Jedi or not. Though, there was always the hope that one day, they may cross paths again.

#obi wan x reader #obi wan/reader #star wars fluff #padawan!obi wan #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #obi wan kenobi #Obi Wan Kenobi/reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #obi wan fanfiction

[geekywritings]

The stories that scars can tell

You guys are incredible! Just as I am working through last week’s requests, there are already new ones in my inbox. Thank you again for all your inspiration and encouragement. And of course, all requests will get a story!

But first, here is another one from last week: “You icon, it’s your fav anon again hehehe. So you are the best place to req for Cal so here’s another one 🤭 Cal x reader who has scars and he accidentally psychometry on one and he learns about her traumatic past and the comfort is reallll???”

_________

Cal had always been an early riser, while you preferred to stay in bed just that little bit longer. Now, after you had got together, the Jedi began to lounge in the mornings as well, enjoying that extra bit of time by your side.

He would busy himself studying your face or just closing his eyes to enjoy the feel of your warm body against his until you woke up. It was like a new form of meditation that offered him more calmness and happiness than he had ever thought possible.

This morning however was going to be different. You were still asleep, your nude body cuddled into Cal’s, as he drew lazy circles over your back. He could feel the traces of old scars there, some more faded than others. You were both fighters in this war, so your bodies were bound to carry the marks, but many of yours were older.

You had never spoken of their origin and Cal had never asked, knowing well that some things were better left to rest in the past. Still, sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder what your life had been like before meeting him. Before the rebellion. Before the fall of the Republic.

And just like that, his special Force power activated against his will, as his finger glided over a particularly long scar going from your shoulder down your back.

He found himself in a dark world of metal and strobe lights. Nar Shadaa? Corellia? It was hard to tell. Besides, something else quickly drew his attention. The agonizing screams of a girl, maybe 13 or 14 years old, as she knelt in a puddle of spilled drinks on the ground, shattered glass all around her. It was you, he realized. A younger version of you, to be exact.

“I told you to be more careful!” a tall man behind you yelled, as he hit you repeatedly with his belt. “You are the most useless slave ever! I should just sell you! It would be good riddance!”

Cal’s entire body was shaking with anger and disgust. And instantly, he forced himself to pull away from the vision. As much as he would have liked, he couldn’t pull his lightsaber at the man. An echo was just that, a replay of past events with no way to change them.

“What did you see?”

Your soft voice drew him back into the present and guilt filled him, as if he had invaded your privacy.

“I know that look on your face. You had one of those Force visions.” He had tried explaining them to you and while you could never fully grasp how they worked, you had come to know when they happened.

“I am sorry, Y/N… I didn’t mean to…”, he began, the guilt carrying in his voice.

“It’s alright. I know you can’t always control it… What did you see?”, you ended up repeating your question.

“I saw you being beaten… over spilled drinks.”

“Yes, my Master did that quite often.”

“You… were a slave?”, Cal asked hesitantly and you nodded. It wasn’t something you liked talking about, but it was no secret either. And especially the man you loved deserved to know.

“But slavery was forbidden…”

“The Republic didn’t have its eyes everywhere, Cal. And it wasn’t perfect. It tolerated more bad things than you and I can imagine…”, you spoke, adjusting your position, so that you could look at Cal better. “But the Empire is even worse.”, you tacked on, explaining why you were fighting for a Republic that had let you suffer.

“I never knew… I was so blind to a lot of things…” It was something the Jedi learned anew every day. How sheltered his life at the Temple had been. How much the war had covered. How many problems had been left unchecked because there was nobody to take care of them.

“We have the chance to make things better. That’s why we fight, right?” It was the reason you fought, at least.

Instead of answering, Cal pulled you into his arms, holding you close and burying his face in your hair. “I won’t let anyone treat you like that again. I promise.”, he whispered to you and you smiled, a hand gently playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. “We will make things better.”, he added on a vow. “For us. For everyone.”

You had no idea how you would manage that. You were but a handful of rebels against the might of an Empire. But right then, it didn’t matter. All that mattered were Cal’s arms around you, making you feel safe, protected and loved.

“We will, Cal. But for now, just kiss me.” And he gladly did.

#cal kestis #cal kestis x yn #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x reader #jedi survivor

[archieimagines]

Imagine ranting to Din while he repairs the Razor Crest.

finally, it’s written! this request has been sat on my list for a while, so to those who requested it, thank you for your patience! requested by: @ackermanbitch​ and an anon! written by: archie support me on ko-fi!

this is inspired by @yournewwriter‘s gentle prompts: moving you by the waist.

If there was one thing you could do, it was talk.

At first, Din hated it. He hated how you’d walked into the Crest like it was your home when he was only offering you a lift to a nearby system, he’d hated how you’d talked the whole time… and he hated how he’d accidentally grown fond of you.

He became glad to offer you a temporary place by his side when your situation shifted and you needed a residence, but there was no way he was expecting you to stick around for this long and still have so many stories to tell.

Somehow, tuning into your rambles both passed the time and helped him focus. He could fly easily with your words taking up a different space in his brain, and all the hours felt so much shorter, like he’d been travelling the universe beside you. You somehow kept him cheerful and engaged, even in the tough times. You had a natural knack for knowing what kind of story to tell, how to echo and fix his moods with your own experiences, which gave him an outlet for his own emotions. 

And that’s how it was right now, his mood utterly foul as he worked on repairing the Crest after a sticky run-in, but his scowl was placed on hold. Or at least, directed to Mr Narvo, your old, snail-esque colleague in that restaurant on Corellia.

“I swear, I hadn’t done a thing wrong. The order was correct, I did everything to match what the stupid customer had asked for, but he really just-- You know what?” You wandered by him as you talked, frustrated and pacing as all the irritation from working at that restaurant came right back. “I think he’d decided that it would be a bad day for me already. He slithered in and just knew he was gonna try and get me fired.”

You paused your pacing, facing the beskar-clad warrior as he retracted an arm from inside the ship’s panel.

“-And he just kinda blinked at me. You know that eye thing?” Your hands, which had been flapping around animatedly, lifted to hold invisible spheres above your head. “Like the antennae lean forward and just look at you and squint and- honestly it’s so annoying because I can feel how he’s judging me but like? At least my eyeballs aren’t half a metre above from my head, right?”

“Right,” came Din’s voice as he dipped into a toolbox, proceeding to reach back into the side of his ship and twist some valves. His voice was a dry monotone, but he hadn’t once told you to shut up yet, so that was all you needed to continue your spiel.

“Right! So I just- I don’t mean to be rude, but I kinda do- I couldn’t keep it in, okay?” Din halted your pacing and handed you the metal tool, reaching into the Crest again. “… I told him to go stick his eyeballs in the dishwasher.”

Din paused. He turned to look at you. You were almost sure he’d tell you that it was a low blow, or that it wasn’t worth such a threat, but his modulated voice rose with a question. “And did he?”

“Wh- No, Din. Why would he-“

He shrugged one shoulder, stepping away to rummage in the toolkit once more. “That guy was purposely villainizing you, day after day. The least he could do would be-“

“If the universe was a decent place he’d be blinking bubbles, I know,” you chattered on, wandering once again. “But unfortunately, the universe is horrible, Narvo is still out there terrorising colleagues and-“ You stopped dead, peering down at the helmeted man, busy with his tools. “He got me fired.”

Din stopped his hands, visor raised up at you. Of course you couldn’t see his expression, but you didn’t need to as his disbelief met your ears. “It worked?”

“I know!?” You toyed with the tool, the weight falling from hand to hand, gripping it with each as if to decide which hand would better suit hitting Narvo in the eyeball with it, mouth running a mile a minute all the while. “He went straight to the manager, clearly he’d been building up some bullshit case of all the things I’d apparently done wrong— which I always had a particular reason for, by the way, and they were never even against the rules—”

The irritation still buzzed in your veins, even if it was months ago. What started as your attempt to take Din’s mind off the frustration from a damaged ship had turned into a surprise therapy session that seemed to uproot some sort of inferiority complex, and now you were just airing out your issues without even being aware of Din bustling around you.

“Like, I’m a good worker, you know? I take pride in that because I actually care about what I put into the universe, I strive to make this shitty place better for the people, unlike Narvo. He was just there to feed his own-”

Gentle hands on your waist had you startled, and your gaze shot up to the visor, eyes wide and an unmistakable heat to your cheeks. He’d never touched you like this before.

You couldn’t help leaning into his hold, heart beating like crazy-

A gentle pressure from one hand had you stepping aside, and then it was gone.

He leant past you, reaching into the metal hood of the ship. You’d parked right in front of it without even noticing, far too wrapped up in the fury of your tale.

“Keep going,” he spoke, and you fumbled to find your words again, fiddling with the tool in your hands.

“Wh- What was I saying again?”

A gloved hand reached back to take the tool from your hands. “He was just feeding his ego by preying on you. It’s better to keep away from characters like that.”

Your stride finally came back to you and the story continued in your mind, but the sure flutter in your chest was going at full force. “Right, I learned that by now.”

“You want me to put a hit on him?”

You scoffed. “Din, please. …But if we stop off at Corellia, he’ll shit himself when he sees me with a Mandalorian.”

A soft breath of laughter, so quiet you almost missed it. “Then that’s our next stop.”

#mandalorian imagine #mandalorian x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #mando imagine #mando x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #star wars imagine #star wars #pedro pascal #written by archie

[grippingbeskar]

had you said the words

obi-wan kenobi x fem!reader

word count: 7.5k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (oral m and f receiving, general sexual content, obi-wan is a virgin but they don’t actually fuck but yeah) swearing, think that’s it??

a/n: obi wan i love youuUuUuUu. okay in honour of the show coming out i am finally letting go of this lil thing I made. i wrote it months ago but never felt like it was good enough to post but here we are!! im feeling okay about how it turned out so i hope u enjoy and if you didn’t just lie and say you did!!! also this is inspired by that one line from the clone wars u know the one. okay that’s enough goodbye!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“This is ridiculous! You can’t do this!” You shout to the Jedi council. In front of you is some of the galaxy’s most respected members, the most seasoned generals from the clone wars, and yet not a single one seems to be able to see reason.

“We must. For the good of the Jedi.” Mace Windu says from the corner of the room, not meeting your eye. Your face drops, unable to comprehend their callousness.

“How could you? You know me. I would never jeopardise my career. This is what I’ve done my entire life! I-’

“This isn’t permanent, however the council has made a decision. We cannot afford to have a Jedi falter in their cause - not now, in the middle of a war.” Plo Kloon says, empathy guarded behind the crushing words. So that was that. All this over one decision.

You made one mistake.

One.

During the heat of battle, you lost sight of your focus, lost control, all because of one particular member of the council who sits in front of you now, saying nothing. Obi-Wan cant even look at you, and you dont know if its because of disappointment or if he just doesn’t care as much as you thought he would. Maybe he agrees with them. A sense of anger washed over you and you see him fidget in his chair, locking eyes with you for the first time since the council called session.

“He would have died.” Your voice shakes as you tilt your head towards Obi Wan Kenobi, leaving his gaze to find the rest of the council staring at you. “I saw the situation and reacted. I only did what I had to - to save him.”

“Had to, you did?” Master Yoda croaks from next to Mace, and you shudder a breath under his accusation, but nod.

“Yes.” The council all look at you, well, all except Kenobi, who’s knuckles are going white gripping the side of his chair, and nod. You bow your head, knowing you are fighting a losing battle, and spin to leave the room.

“You are one of the best of us, child. We know you meant no harm, but this is the Jedi way.” Kit calls and you dont get a chance to respond as the doors shutter behind you.

You were heartbroken. All day you had been turning over the events of yesterday in your head, trying to see a way out - another way you could have saved his life without compromising your career. There was none.

It started out as any battle did, the longevity of the Clone wars hardening most Jedi to become seasoned generals. Anakin and Ahsoka took troops around the back to catch the droids from behind, while you and Kenobi engaged the main platoon. It was going well - even perfect, you and Kenobi working seamlessly together, able to read each others minds, know the others thoughts without ever having to look at each other. It had been that way since he found you on Corellia, a teenager with a strong connection to the force and an attitude to boot. He trained you - in spite of everyone who told him you were a lost cause, showed you the ways of the Force and watched you grow into one of the best Jedi in the Republic - you were part of the reason he took a chance on Anakin. 

Either way, no matter how well you knew each other, you never could have expected what happened next.

Breaking the droid lines, you breached their hold. This was the main prize, for it contained the systems that held hundreds of documents detailing the battle regiments of the droids entire army, including exact numbers, weaponry and AT-AT deployments. What neither of you knew was that they had one last surprise set up.

As Obi-Wan entered the hold, you could both feel something was off immediately. You told him as much, and said you should wait for Anakin and Ahsoka to arrive so you could go in together and scan for entities. Obi Wan was convinced there was no time, the droids already beginning to regroup outside the hold. He wasn’t wrong, you could feel them caging you in, but he had always taught you to be patient; to clear your mind before rushing into battle. The role reversal threw you off guard as he pushed forward into the hold.

You still felt uneasy, but you didn’t argue and stepped inside with him. It was huge, monotone walls shutting you into a sphere shaped room, two steel doors that shuttering behind you. As Obi-Wan took one more step, you both heard the click at the same time, heads snapping to find each other’s eyes, and you didn’t even think before you reacted. 

Obi-Wan turned and threw himself at you before you even got a glimpse of the explosive. Within seconds you knew he would be blown to pieces, but his body would shield the blast from you and the board of computers behind you, which contained the information the entire mission was hinged on. Time stood still. This is what is was to be a Jedi - to sacrifice yourself for the greater good, the bigger cause, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

Obi-Wan looked down at you, and his eyes were so piercing - so satisfied in his decision to die so that you will live, and you felt him through the Force, a warm longing drifting into your heart. You knew what he was saying; all the words you could never speak out loud, the thoughts you were too afraid to have in fear he would reject them. It was his final goodbye - and you couldn’t take it.

You threw out your hand, finding the explosive through the Force and flinging it behind you, right behind the computers main frame. The blast went off a split second later, shattering the entire set up and motherboard. The information would be gone, a shimmering snow of computer parts and wires falling around you. All you could focus on, though, was how Obi-Wans’ hand had come up to cup the side of your face, and how warm his skin was against your cheek, the failure of the mission worth every second of contact.

“You saved me.” He had said, voice a whisper under the still falling pieces of the destructed technology. You just nodded, and he didn’t move from on top of you, reminding you how it would have been the other way around had you acted half a second later, and he would have been dead. 

His eyes were filled with an emotion you have seen a few times before, but you don’t know what it is. You only know that when he looks at you like that, your heart beat shoots into your throat, and every feeling you tried to lock away when you became a Jedi fights its way back to the surface. 

Once Anakin and Ahsoka arrived, they found you both in amongst the rubble, and it wasn’t until the shock had surpassed that you realised you were both all cut up from the debris. They brought you back to the main base, and you weren’t thinking straight, immediately spilling about how you sustained these injuries. You put Obi-Wans life above the Jedi cause, and even though you knew you would get in trouble for it, you couldn’t hide from the truth.

What you hadn’t expected was Obi-Wans complete silence. He hadn’t spoken to you since you arrived back to base, and you were sure he was just preparing for the council meeting where he would back you, abide by your decision, or at the very least say something. He didn’t. Anakin and Ahsoka tried their best to influence the council, but neither of them held the power to do much. Anakin was still not yet a Master Jedi, and Ahsoka; although she had the attitude of one, was not yet a general.

So now you were marching back to your room, empty halls of the ship seeming colder and colder the further you get from Obi-Wan. You knew what you did betrayed the sacred oath you made the day you put on your Jedi robes. Jedi did not make emotional connections, the order had to be put first, and the good of the galaxy depended on it. You knew you risked countless lives by losing that critical information, and you knew you would be reprimanded.

You didn’t regret it though.

You were always a rule breaker, a little bit of a rebel in regards to the orders strict guidelines on that kind of behaviour - how were you to truly care about the galaxy if you had no one in it to protect? It was human nature to form connections - and practically impossible not to care in the case of Obi-Wan’s life. Did they expect you not to attempt to save him, even when there was a way to do so?

Obi-Wan was one of the many times you broke the rules. You were infatuated with him ever since you met him - he was significantly older than you, yes, although not by so much it would be deemed inappropriate. You were both adults, so it was more your occupations that kept you from admitting your feelings. He found you on Corellia, sacrificed his time and patience to mould you into the perfect fighter, fought for your right to train beside the Jedi even with your training being so late. He stuck up for you your entire life, and it made his silence that much more painful. 

You finally trudged through the ship far enough to find your room, and as you go to enter, you feel two familiar figures come up behind you, and a female voice calls your name.

“We were waiting outside, but they made us leave after they called the session.” Ahsoka says, and she reaches out to hold your arm, careful to miss the bandage holding you together. 

“It’s fine. Nothing happened we didn’t already know would happen.” You knew they would remove your titles - take away your leadership of your battlement. It was a glorified way of grounding you, sending you to your room as if you were a child.

“What of Obi-Wan? There has to be a way to change their mind. He has to be trying.” Anakin says, shaking his head. Him and his master have always gotten along, and their bond is one that rivals brothers, but you know Anakin takes after you in the attitude department, so as he paces up and down the corridor, you know he’s as pissed as you.

“What of him? He couldn’t even look at me. I don’t think he even blinked the entire session.” You scoff, and even Ahsoka shakes her head, more confused than angry.

“He’s going to have to speak up sometime.” Ahsoka says, and releases your arm.

“He will if I have anything to say about it. Padmè will talk to the council about the diplomatic influence, she’s already speaking to the other generals. We will have you back out there in no time.” Anakin’s eyes are fiery, and you smile at the man who was once a boy, small and unsure now so confident and clear.

“If he wanted to, he would of. Thank you, both of you for your help, but I’m just going to have to ride this one out. There’s nothing I can do about it now.” Both of them look at you with the same sympathetic frown, and you would laugh at how similar they are if you weren’t feeling so defeated.

“For what it’s worth, I would have done the same thing.” Anakin says, and he steps forward. You know he’s talking about Padmè, and you nod, a mutual understanding of the conflicting emotions of the Jedi way. They both turn to leave, and you can hear the hushed conversation of their plan as they round the corner.

You enter your room and fall onto the bed, the air rushing out as soon as your head hits the pillow. The past few days have been entirely exhausting, and you weren’t just thinking about the cuts and bruises that now littered your skin. This little incident has forced you to really own up to your feelings towards Obi-Wan. The way you felt when you were faced with the possibility of him dying tore you to shreds, and the strength of those emotions were impossible to draw up to just an admiration of a friend, or a small crush born of gratitude. You were in love with him, and you had been for a while. You knew it was wrong and you wanted to fight it, fight the feeling you drowned in whenever he was in the room, whenever he smiled at you or pulled you away to talk about battle plans, knowing no one else would understand the way he thinks but you.

It also forced you to think about how he may feel about you. He reacted so quickly, throwing himself on top of you when the explosive dropped, and the look in his eye told you he wouldn’t of regretted dying for you. His Force - the energy you knew so well felt different - like he was reaching into your body and touching everything inside you, giving you no option but to yield to him. The intensity of it - it was nothing you had ever felt before.

It made it hard to breathe, thinking about that. Would he have ever felt the same? He was one of the most accomplished Jedi in the galaxy, surely there was no way he would return those feelings, right?

It was impossible - you and him, for so many reasons, the main one being how you were now banned from fighting, banned from council meetings and practically shunned from the Republic just for presenting the idea that he meant more to you than you let on. One mistake, you said to yourself, but you weren’t entirely sure it was a mistake.

Your eyes began to close, and even with everything in your life being pulled apart, you can’t help but drift off. Your energy is drained, and maybe that’s why after you fall into a deep sleep, you don’t feel Obi-Wan’s presence at your door before he knocks, softly, almost as if he doesn’t want you to hear it.

You know its him as soon as you open your eyes, able to recognise his energy anywhere, but when he says your name, you throw the blanket off and move to open the door.

Dull lights from the hallway don’t show you any emotions on his face. It has to be the middle of the night. His hair is out of place and he looks so unlike himself. He is almost always put together, in his robes and armed with his lightsaber, but he stands in front of you in just a few layers and no weapon to be seen.

“Wh- What are you doing?” He shifts his weight onto the other leg and finally looks at you.

“I needed to see you. The council held me all day. May I?” He motions to behind you. Was he asking to come in to your room, at three in the morning? After what has just happened?

“I don’t know if thats a good idea, considering.” Your voice is small. The truth is that you do want him to come in, more than you’ve wanted anything. To have him in close quarters, all to yourself - it’s what you’ve wanted for years, and you hate that you have to sound even slightly hesitant.

“If you don’t want to see me, I understand. I’ll go.” He steps backwards and your hand shoots forward to grab the wrist of his robe before you can think.

“No! I do.” Damn, you folded fast under those puppy dog eyes he was giving you. You step out, looking left and right. The hallway is completely empty, and you dont have long before the skeleton crew of night guards come back through on their rotation. “Come.”

He moves swiftly past you and closes the door behind him, you going to sit on the edge of your bed. You sigh, trying to get a hold of the swirling array of emotion twisting in your stomach. It felt similar to wanting to puke. On one hand you want to scream at him, demand him to answer for the way he acted, or rather didn’t act in the council meeting.

On the other, you want to take advantage of this time. You have already lost the one thing that kept you from admitting your feelings to him, what more could you lose? You don’t get a chance to decide, because he speaks first, standing in front of you.

“I wanted to apologise. The way that I behaved today - it was cowardly. I should have spoken sooner.” You were nodding, but when he says sooner you look up at him and tilt your head. “When the council dismissed you, I felt the true consequence of my actions. I ordered a reconsideration.”

That makes your eyes widen a little. The thought of the Obi-Wan Kenobi arguing with the entire council on your behalf makes the heat in your cheeks heavier, and you look away, hoping he can’t sense it.

“A reconsideration?” You repeat, and he nods.

“Yes. I was afraid I may of found my bearings too late, but I explained how your actions were only fuelled by your respect for me, and that you would have done the same for any council member had they been in my place. I know how much you respect the order and your superiors, and I told them as much. We have a… unique connection, something other people might not completely comprehend. I explained as best I could.” You blink, trying to take in every word, but you are stuck on the first part. Your actions weren’t fuelled by respect. Your heart acted before your mind did, and he had just lied to the council for you, because he knew it too.

“I find it hard to imagine you had anything to say, considering you stayed so silent during the three hours of my own hearing.” Anger bubbles up your chest at his dismissing statement, and he rubs his hands over his face.

“I apologise. I was - not in the right mind to speak. I was afraid I would only make the situation worse.” His voice shakes slightly as he stops talking.

“So, you lied.” 

“I did not lie. You deserve your place, on the battle field and on that council one day. I will not let this incident ruin your career. Not over something like this.” The unsaid words hang in the air, thick as smoke.

Not over me.

“You did lie. You told them I did it out of respect.” You can’t look at him, nerves starting to break up that anger you felt as his voice gets softer. He says your name again, and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for his response.

“I also told them about what I did. You are not the only one who acted on instinct. I was unprepared; arrogant even. I should have listened to you.” You scoff and shake your head. “Tell me how I can make this right.”

“Look, whats done is done. Thank you for speaking in my favour, but the council has made up their minds.” Defeated, and convinced you weren’t going to hear what you so desperately wanted to hear, you move further away from him on the bed and let your back rest against the wall. He was quiet for a moment, letting you sigh and sink into the wall. Maybe he thought you were going to continue - he seemed to be anticipating something. After a while, though, he starts to fidget and shifts his weight to the other side again.

“I know you have more to say to me. Argue with me; yell at me, if you must. Just speak to me.” He finally speaks. You dont remember ever seeing him this unsteady. You sigh again and find his eyes, already looking at you, pleading.

“You threw yourself at me. You would have died today if I hadn’t thrown that explosive. Do you really expect me to believe you also did that out of respect for the Jedi?” His face doesn’t change, he doesn’t even move. “Because I didn’t. I didn’t think about the Jedi, or the information on those computers. I wasn’t even thinking about myself. I thought of you. I wanted to save you.” The confession sheds a weight of your shoulders you didn’t even know you were carrying, and your mouth is suddenly dry as Obi-Wan continues to stare at you. He goes to speak and his voice cracks, so he swallows hard and tries again.

“I wanted to save you too.” You think you stopped breathing. “If you had gone in first, you would have.... It would have been my fault. I couldn’t bare it; to lose you would destroy everything.” Your eyebrows furrow together and you slide off the bed, standing only a few steps from him.

“Destroy your plan to get me on the council?” 

“It would destroy me.” You see it beginning to crack; the fragile glass ceiling that kept your deepest secrets below. You suck in a breath as his voice cracks and he keeps talking somehow. “What you said, about lying to the council. You are right. You know I respect you as a general, and I want all those things I spoke about for you. I want to provide that for you. To think you would lose that because of me - it couldn’t happen.”

It couldn’t happen.

This, the heat swirling in between you in the dimly lit room, it couldn’t happen. It would mean the destruction of both of your lives, and you knew that. You never expected him to say any of this in front of the council, but a small part of you dared to hope he would say it to you. 

“I understand.” Your head drops, and you see his hand rise up, and a finger coming underneath your chin. Your breath hitches as he gently brings your face back up to his, the warmth of his skin a welcomed return. This was it. The crossing of the invisible line. It felt so much easier to do now that you were here. You resist the urge to press into his touch.

“I lied to the council, but I am not sure how much longer I can lie to myself.” His eyes search yours for any sign of confusion, or resentment, or anything other than the heavy longing that has been building over years and years of close proximity. However, its you who hesitates this time, although you dont pull away.

“Obi, this - I won’t let you risk your position for this. Mine is already at threat, we can’t - I know what the order means to you. I couldn’t - ”

“Had you said the words, I would have left the Jedi Order.” Your heart flutters and your stomach drops. Left? “I nearly lost you yesterday and I - I don’t know what to do. How can I continue on this path when I feel this way? The one thing that feels right - how can it be viewed as so wrong?” You step towards him this time, wanting to be closer.

“You mean you-”

“When I threw myself over you yesterday, it was because I couldn’t imagine living in this galaxy if you were not by my side. You are the only thing worth more than this. Any of this. I want - truely, I want to serve the republic - the planets, bring aid and peace where I can and protect those who cannot fend for themselves. It is all I’ve wanted my entire life. I never knew I could- that I would want anything else- until I met you.” You bring your hand to cover his own on your face, and he closes his eyes when your hands thread together.

“You won’t have to leave this behind. I swear. I’ll talk to the council, admit it was my fault. We can figure this out, together.” You can’t compute his confession, not yet, not when he’s going down this road of throwing everything he’s worked for out the vat - for you.

“You will do no such thing.” Your face is screwed up with worry and your anxiety of the danger of confessing your feelings is creeping up, but you feel his energy mixing with your own, and he is so calm and steady it makes your hands stop shaking.

“I care for you, too. A little too much, I think.” He smiles for the first time in days, absorbing the heat of your words and letting them sink into his skin. “We- we just need time. We can figure this out. Let this whole thing settle down first.” You nod at your own plan and hold his hand tighter to your face, not wanting the contact to end.

“Whatever you want, I will make sure of it. I will not silence myself again, I swear it.” You smile this time, and his thumb comes to run over your bottom lip. His eyes widen with the contact, as if he’s surprised by his own actions.

“I know why you did now. You didn’t want them to think it was true. Because you already knew how I felt about you, didn’t you?” You smile a little and he mirrors it.

“You were never all that proficient at hiding how you feel. It took everything in me to cover your anger during the session.” You think of how he was so concentrated, looking almost in pain as he watched you in silence. “But yes, I have known of your feelings for a while, although I wasn’t sure if they were aimed at me.” You step forward again, and you can feel his chest against yours, robes brushing your bare arms.

“How long?”

“A few months. My own - affections, however, have been stirring for quite longer, if I am honest with myself.” He almost sounds ashamed, and you want to punch every single council member for making him feel that way.

“If it makes you feel better, I have definitely had a crush on you for longer than that.” He breaths out a laugh, and you feel it on your cheeks. 

“Is that so?” You loved this side of him, teasing and lighthearted. It was rarer these days, but it made you feel warm inside that he let you see it.

“Don’t let it go to your head.” You roll your eyes and grin at him, and he closes the distance between you. He doesn’t kiss you, but he’s close enough that if you stuck your chin out just a fraction, your lips would touch. Your legs feel like jelly and you are sure he can feel how nervous you are through the energy you must be putting out, but you never hide it. Not from him. You hear him swallow, and you keep your eyes closed.

Just in case.

“I don’t know what this is.” He says, his honesty making you feel a lot more at ease. Neither of you have any idea how to play this, of what is too far. All you know is how badly you want him to kiss you.

“Neither do I.” He nods and leans his forehead to yours. Now all you would have to do is tilt your head, and you could finally feel him against you how you have wanted to all these years. “We can just- go slow. Okay?”

“Slow.” He says and you can feel him sigh, and then he moves. He tilts his head. You stay deadly still, afraid to scare him off. As much as you both are completely inexperienced, you are pretty sure he has less an idea than you do. You were 19 when he found you, and didn’t become a Jedi until two years after, so you had some time to experiment in that department, but from what you know, Obi-Wan has been dedicated since childhood - something you admire about him.

His breathing picks up and his lips brush against yours. He was right there, all you had to do was move. He makes a small sound in the back of his throat and you cant contain yourself anymore. You move your head to capture his mouth in yours.

The kiss is as perfect as any first kiss you could imagine. It was sweet, no tongue, just slow, simple movements as you both explore the feeling of each other. His free hand comes to your hip on instinct, pressing you harder against him. He clearly wasn’t prepared for his own action again, a moan of surprise vibrating against your lips as your bodies come together. You move both of your arms around his neck, one tangling in his messy hair.

As you start to find a rhythm, the hand on your hip gets tighter, needing you to be closer, to touch more of him. You need it too, and as much as you wanted to rip his clothes off right now, your sense of urgency is dulled by the unknown of if this would ever happen again, so you were going to be as slow and explorative as possible. 

You swipe your tongue along his bottom lip, and you feel him jolt a little under the movement. It sends warmth through your entire body to know how affected he is by you, and it only makes you want to give him more. You owed everything to him, your entire life, and you wanted to show him just how much you appreciated him. 

He opens up to you and you slide into his mouth, the feeling of him moving against you making you moan. The sound mades him tense, and he gets a little more desperate with his movements, kissing you a little harder and walking to back you up against the bed. You spin and push him back, and his legs give out so he sits on the edge.

He looks up at you, chest heaving. He extends his arms and you take the hint, straddling him and bringing your mouth back to his. Both of his hands stay off your ass, one coming back on your hip, which you think he likes because he can create the tiniest amount of friction between you, the other resting on the small of your back. You keep your arms around his neck and he twists his head a little, inching your hand back up into his hair. You smile a little and oblige him, twisting your fingers through the soft strands. 

You start to feel him harden underneath you, but you don’t want to push him. Instead, you just follow the grip on your hip and start to move when he does, grinding against him ever so slightly. He moans instantly, a deep, low sound that vibrates to your bones. You do it again, and he gasps, so you tear your lips away from him to let him breath. His mouth chases yours and you giggle.

“I don’t think I will ever get enough of that.” He murmurs as he kisses your nose. You roll your hips again and his spine straightens, capturing your lips in another kiss. “Or that.”

“So greedy.” He laughs and kisses you again, and you can tell he’s not really sure where to go from here as his grip begins to loosen on your hip. “Have you ever..?”

He shakes his head, and drops his forehead to your chest. You let the tips of your fingers lightly scrape against his scalp and he ‘hmms’ under his breath, enjoying the sensation but also hiding from you.

“Thats okay. We don’t have to do anything. I just want to be with you right now. Whatever that means.” He looks up and kisses you again. You know what this would mean, the final nail in the coffin for him.

Technically, its the emotional connection that the Jedi do not allow. The physical side of things is not forbidden, as long as there is no relationship, although most Jedi observe celibacy as a general rule. You have since you met him, it would have been impossible for you to have one without the other. 

The movement of your hips is not the problem for him, though. It’s the fact that you both know there is more here than just a physical attraction. You admitted it. This would be breaking the code.

You only care right now if he does.

“I want- Maker. I want to. This is-“ He talks and cuts himself off by kissing you, never finishing a sentence. You look up and laugh and he just kisses your throat, turning to kiss your neck when you look to the side. You stop laughing when you feel his arms wrap around you tighter and a slight scrape of his teeth against the spot that makes you shiver. He pulls back to look at you, and then does it again, kissing and scraping his teeth, biting experimentally.

You can tell he’s enjoying it, and he spends a while moving himself up and down your neck, finding all the little places that make you gasp and hum.

“Oh, Obi. Shit.” Your head drops to his shoulder and your hips start to move on their own. He keeps kissing your neck, starting to suck and bite in the spot he seems to have deemed his favourite. He moans against your skin, and a small fire in the pit of your stomach sparks and warms your entire body. You pull on his hair again, and his hips buck slightly.

“This is okay?” He says against you and you nod and roll your hips again.

“Yes. Yes.” He continues, and that same shiver goes up your spine.

“You are so soft.” His nose drags along your throat and your mouth drops open.

“Can I- Can I touch you?” You ask desperately and he pulls away from your skin, nudging your head up to find your eyes.

“You want to?” He seems genuinely curious, and you nod. Your hands come to his chest and you slide them up to his shoulders, bringing the two layers of robes off his shoulders slowly, giving him ample time to stop you. He helps to pull them off, and then you bring his hands to your shirt. His eyes widen a little at the thought, but you see him try to regain composure.

“Do you want to?” He grabs the hem of your shirt and fists the material.

“Please.” He breaths out and pulls your shirt over your head slowly, goosebumps appearing where his fingertips brush your skin. When the shirt finally comes off he lets his eyes trail along your now exposed skin, just a small bralette holding you from him. You lean back a little so both of his hands can find your ribs, and they run strong lines up and down your sides.

“So soft.” He repeats and you begin to melt into his lap.

You bring your hands to the hem of his shirt, and he clearly is not as patient as you, his own coming over the top and whipping the shirt over his head. You have seen him without his shirt before, sometimes after training he would tear it off before he disappears into his room and you would get a glimpse of his back, but now you were up close and could look as much as you want.

He was built; bigger than he looks under all those robes, and you run your hands over the hard muscle, wanting to remember the feeling of every inch. He keeps one hand on your rib cage and brings the other to your chin to kiss you again.

“You are beautiful.” He whispers, and your heart sparks at the compliment.

“So are you.” You return and he smiles into the kiss. Your hand finds the hem of his pants, fingertips dancing along the seam and he sucks in a deep breath. “We don’t have to do anything. Tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

“Have you done this? Before.” As much as you want to tell him no if only to make him relax, you can’t lie to him. You nod your head.

“Not for a while. Not since I met you.” This sparks something in his eye, and you would never have picked him for a possessive guy, but it seems he likes the idea of him being the reason you haven’t.

“I have not. I am not sure I know-“

“Anything you do is perfect. Just relax, okay? Let me make you feel good.” He tilts his head as you slide off him, and sits up a little to come with you. You just stop him with your hands on his thighs, and slip your fingers into the waistline of his pants.

You aren’t sure how you manage to be so patient with the way he’s looking at you - eyes wide and bottom lip between his teeth, but you wait. Wait for him to say stop, or to bring you back into his lap and change the direction. He does neither, and you pull ever so slightly, revealing skin you’ve never seen before. You tilt your head up at him and he just nods repeatedly, moving his hips in a silent plea.

“Oh, Maker. What do I d-” With another deep breath, his eyes flutter closed and then back open, trying to figure out if he wants to watch or just feel you. You slide his pants down a little more and you can see how hard he is already. You look up at him again, and he’s staring so intently that you feel he would have said something if he wanted you to stop. His energy is warm around you, like nothing you’ve ever felt and it is full of curiosity and heat. You pull his pants down past his knees.

Sliding in between his legs you bring your face closer to his length, and your breath is hot against his skin. His pants drop to his ankles and he quickly kicks them off.

You start slow, placing a kiss to the inside of his thigh, and his hips jolt in response. You laugh breathlessly, and decide there will be plenty of time to tease him later.

You were going to make this so good for him that he will never be able to think of anything else when he looks at you.

You start at his head, kissing him gently. Then, finding his eyes you lick a long stripe up him from base to tip. He strangles a moan, and his eyes never leave you as you take the tip of him into your mouth and suck gently.

“I-oh maker. Fuck.” You can see the way every part of his body relaxes under your manipulation, and a rush of heat floods your body. Something about Obi-Wan swearing, coming undone because of you makes your own arousal begin to grow, but you try to focus all your energy on him. You stay there for a while, gently sucking and letting your tongue swipe over him, enjoying the little moans he makes every time you do so.

When your sure he’s relaxed, you look up at him again and spit, bringing your hand up to coat his length, making it as wet as you can. His eyes roll back at the image, and every time your hand works him his hips buck to meet you.

You take him into your mouth and hollow your cheeks, letting him fuck your face as much as he wants. He was acting off pure instinct, it’s still slow and a little uncertain but he starts to go a little deeper when he feels you moan around his length, a wordless plea for him to take what he needs. A hand finds your hair, not to push you down but just to hold, a reminder of where he is. The other arm supports his weight as he no longer holds himself up, and you pull off of him after a few strokes, saliva coating your mouth.

“How does it feel?” His eyes are squeezed shut and his abs are flexing so hard he almost looks like he’s in pain. You don’t know why it didn’t occur to you before, but he’s probably also never had an orgasm. It makes you want to work even harder, make him feel even better, so you take him back inside your mouth before he answers.

“So go-ah! So good. Stars- You feel so good. How are you so good?” He’s completely lost in his own pleasure and it makes you feel all tingly in your stomach. You try to keep your eyes on him and work him faster, grip him harder as you push to get him over the edge. You keep pumping him in your hand as your mouth comes off him to catch your breath for a second.

“I can make you feel so much better.” You take him back into your mouth, and the sounds of him inside of you are only muffled by how loud he is, moaning your name and strangled cries every time he hits the back of your throat. Small tears start to form in your eyes but you keep going, every sound he makes only making you feel hotter. You can feel him everywhere - and when you start to take him as deep as you can, he hits the back of your throat once and he shudders.

“Wait! St-stop. Wait.” Immediately you pull off him, and you can see how fucking close he was, the tip of him leaking pre cum and his entire body shaking.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?” He nods, trying to catch his breath. You wipe your mouth with your thumb, and slip it into your mouth wanting to savour the taste of him.

“Something feels - strange. I don’t know wh-” He’s breathing so hard it takes him a moment to get the words out in a way you understand - but you know. You know exactly what he’s going to say, and save him from his clear embarrassment when you lean up to whisper on his ear.

“Good strange? Or bad?”

“I can’t- good. Overwhelming; I can’t feel a-anything else.” He sounds a little worried, but the pleasure is evident in how he drags out his words. He’s worried because he can’t feel the familiar safety of the Force when his mind goes blank.

“It’s- it’s okay. I promise. Relax, okay? I’m right there with you.” He nods rapidly and even though he’s noticeably a little nervous his body scoots further off the edge, closer to your mouth. You smile and lean in, and he instantly falls right back into his building orgasm.

You work him hard and fast, swirling your tongue and taking him as deep as you can. He gets louder as you get quicker, and you can’t help but moan around him as he thrusts into you with less composure.

“Hol- yes, that’s- right there oh gods-“ His entire body shakes as he cums in your mouth. His orgasm takes all the strength in his body and he falls back, arm giving out as he flops onto the bed. He says your name over and over and it’s like it hits him in waves, you just keep pumping him into your mouth and taking whatever he gives you. His abs are flexing every time you take him into the back of your throat and the slight reaction as he stops moaning your name makes you slow down.

His hand comes over his abdomen and you watch as he begins to come back to his body, the rise and fall of his chest becoming a little more even as you slide him out of your mouth.

“Come here.” He says, his voice so low and thick that you move faster than you thought possible. You come up next to him, and gasp as his hands find your wrists and he pins you against the bed, both of you vertical on the bed and your head perfectly centre on the pillows. He looks over you, completely naked and kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding into your mouth. He was a quick learner. The taste of him is still on your tongue, and the mixture of his mouth makes your head spin.

“Was that okay?” You ask under him and he presses a short kiss to your lips and then laughs.

“You are joking, right? That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt.” You blush at the way he looks at you, completely enamoured. “I want to make you feel like that.” You freeze and all the blood in your body rushed to your core. A look of determination you’ve seen from training covers his expression.

“You don’t have to, don’t feel like ob-“

“Let me make you feel good.” He purrs your words from earlier in your ear and your eyes flutter closed as he pulls your pants down your legs. He leaves your underpants on, and shifts so his body is between your legs. He hangs above you, and the way his eyes drop down to your underwear and slowly work their way back up to your face makes you feel hot all over. He stays like that, above you as he does something you can only describe as admiring you.

One of his hands brushes over your stomach, fingers tracing aimless lines along your skin. You try to stay as still as possible, but the way he looks at you, how he runs his hands so so close to the hem of your underwear, and then slide away to explore somewhere else. It isn’t long until your squirming underneath him.

“Please, Obi-Wan.” He blinks a couple times, focusing back on what he was doing.

“Sorry. Your beautiful.” He leans down to press a kiss to your stomach, and then copies what you did to him, moving down your body, kissing your thighs and it making your back arch. “Show me.”

“Wh-what do you want to do?” He looks up at you and, after seeing you smile at him encouragingly, slowly drags your underpants down your legs, making sure his fingertips touch all the exposed skin they can on the way. Then he lays down between your legs, and looks up at you, awaiting instruction. “Fuck. O-okay.”

You open your legs a little more and let your hand tangle in his hair. He leans into that touch, and he ‘hmms’ again as you run your fingertips through it. He kisses your thighs again, and his tongue darts out to lick the skin there a little bit. You realise he’s still waiting.

“Just- anything. Please touch me.”

“Hmm. You never were a good teacher.” Your jaw drops open and you laugh without making a sound, way too distracted with how sexy he looks between your legs.

“Give me your hand.” He does as you ask, and you run his hand down over your stomach. His hands are softer than you thought, and when you bring one of his fingers over your clit, you let out a long moan of his name.

You show him how you would touch yourself, but somehow it feels a hundred times better with his hand. He follows your motions and you let go, fisting the blankets as he copies you. It takes him a moment but he never takes his eyes off you, watching as each time he touches you right your body reacts, and faster than you were prepared for he starts to build a perfect pattern.

“Like this?” He applies more pressure and you arch further off the bed. Of course he would be a fast learner. You feel him move closer, his breath hot on your arousal. You nod frantically and moan in a loud, long release. “What about this?”

“Oh fuck! Yes, just like that!” He flicks his tongue over your clit. You don’t remember a time you’ve been this sensitive so fast, but then again you’ve never had someone as incredible as Obi-Wan Kenobi between your legs. He swirls his tongue in the same pattern he was creating with his fingers and the feeling intensifies, your nerve endings buzzing with pleasure.

“Need more. Wanna feel you.” You break out between gasps and he unfortunately takes his expert mouth off you to answer.

“Okay, darling. Show me, okay?” He brings his hand up again and you quickly bring two of his fingers into your mouth and suck on them. He never takes his eyes of you, the image of you sucking his cock earlier surely running through his mind. You run his hand back down and guide them to your entrance and he slides them into you.

“Move them- oh, shit - up. Just a little.” You prop yourself up on your forearms but your head drops back as he curls his fingers inside you, and you practically sob when he does it again while returning his mouth to your clit.

He starts slow, and you are too enveloped in your own pleasure to give him instructions, but it’s like he reads your body. You both work so in sync with each other on the battle field and in meetings, it makes sense he would be able to give you exactly what you were so desperate for without having to speak. He can feel every time he does in the right way, when his tongue and his fingers sync up, and he chases the form every time.

Once he figures out a pattern that makes you squirm he goes faster. The pace makes your eyes roll in the back of your head thinking about how good he makes you, and only you, feel.

“Right there. Oh m-“ He takes your clit into his mouth and sucks. If you thought he was loud, you were definitely louder as you cry out, begging him not to stop.

“So- stars; so pretty.” He says and you can feel the heat of his words on your wetness. “And so wet. For me?”

“Yes. Always for you.” He groans and goes faster and faster, his entire mouth exploring the taste of you while still hitting that spot that makes you cry out.

“So fucking warm. Thought about this - feel perfect.” The lewdness of his words make your legs begin to shake and you can’t see - can’t feel anything but the earth shattering sensation filling every part of your body.

Pleasure builds faster than ever and you can’t prepare for how hard you cum in his mouth. Everything flashes in sparkles of heat and melts your mind until you can’t think - pulling his hair and riding his face through your pleasure.

Your leg muscles were sore already and you manage to open your eyes to see your thighs have seized up around his head, keeping him in place. He doesn’t seem to mind, and although he has taken his fingers out of you his mouth remains, aimlessly tasting you seemingly for his own enjoyment. He has no idea the effect he’s having on you, and his tongue brushes over your clit occasionally, the overstimulation making your lungs burn.

“Oh Maker. Obi please come here.” You say, and your shakey legs drop open from his head. He looks up at you, and takes a final taste of your pussy before crawling up your body, kissing you.

“You taste sweet.” He whispers into your mouth. There’s something about how dirty the words are mixed with how proper and polite he always is that makes your legs shake for a different reason, and you pull him down next to you, curling your body into his.

“You are amazing.” It’s his turn to blush, and you see a little red come across his cheeks in the dim light of the room.

“Hardly in comparison, my love.” Your heart is slamming in your ears. That was your favourite nickname, you think. He brushes the hair out of your face, a finger tucking it behind your ear so he can see you better.

“Can you stay?” He shouldn’t. You know he shouldn’t, because if anyone sees him leaving tomorrow everything you both said at the council meeting will be worthless.

“Of course I will stay. As long as you want me to.” You smile into his neck as you bury your face there.

“I want you all the time.”

“Then I will stay all the time.” You both smile, enjoying the simplicity of this moment, knowing it will not last.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now, okay?” You can sense his worry - and you are relieved you sense no regret like you were so sure he would feel. His muscles relax under your words and he nods, pulling your back against his chest so you can feel his slowing heart beat. Somehow - as if it was possible, you feel more connected to him that before. Your energies were always intertwined, but now it’s like they were fused. You could still tell who was who, and they could be taken apart, but together they formed something greater - stronger; and you knew he could feel it too.

You both fall asleep soon after, knowing tomorrow will bring forward a thousand new challenges, with a million new consequences.

You don’t care.

The world could burn down around you, and you would happily watch it, as long as you could do so in his arms. There will be nothing they can take, nothing they can say that will diminish how you feel, and no Jedi Order could convince either of you that what you felt for each other was wrong.

If anything, it made you stronger, and maybe one day you could prove it to them.

#obi wan x y/n #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x you #kenobi x reader #general kenobi #star wars fan fiction #star wars fanfiction #obi wan fic #obi-wan x you #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x you #star wars tv #star wars #obi wan series

[marvelstars]

Tatooine and Skywalkers

I was thinking about Obi-Wan, Luke and Tatooine and realized that despite Obi´s constant complains over the planet and uncle Owen, it was Obi-Wan´s idea to bring baby Luke to Tatooine and make him survive the planet because Anakin was able to do so as well, so Luke had to show he could, as preparation to be able to defeat Vader acording to ROTS novel.

Obi could have chosen literally any other planet, Alderaan, Corellia, etc and even bring over Uncle Owen or Aunt Beru to take care of Luke but no, Luke had to survive Tatooine as a rite of passage or something like that.

So while I feel bad for Obi here you kind of made your bed mister.

About Luke and Anakin experiences on Tatooine:

While Ani certainly liked to have his own adventures and play with Kitster and Wald, he had more than enough being a slave, having a bomb inside his body, hidding threepio from Watto, developing his own detector of bomb chips to take out his and his mothers, escape with his mother in a podracer, of course until QuiGon and Padme told him they needed help, protecting himself from your usual pirates, hutt soldiers, tusken raiders who are always around Tatooine and protect his Mom from abusers while he was at it. He used the same slave system to protect her and others "It´s a shame you can´t kill me because then you would have to pay for me"

It´s LUKE the wild one who believes Tatooine is boring and he absolutely needs to have adventures elsewhere, join the imperial army and the rebellion after that, because he just had enough of shooting at giant rats from a distance and being given shores on the farm by his uncle. Sure there are Hutt soldiers around sometimes but there are also imperial soldiers so the Hutts no longer have as much influence on the planet as they used to have. Luke only comes back to Tatooine to rescue Han and turn Jabba´s base of operations to ashes before going to DS II to talk his Dad out of the darkside.

Like I love Anakin and Luke´s similarities but something I also love about them are their differences.

Anakin is totally willing to work within a system he doesn´t like if he doesn´t have other choice and he can adapt some of it´s characteristics to his and his loved ones benefice until he can fix it enough to make it better for everybody.

Luke is of the mind that if he doesn´t like a system he is totally willing to leave it or bring it down, with explosions if he can involve them.

Tatooine was instrumental in teaching them this. I love that for them.

#anakin skywalker #star wars #darth vader #luke skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #Tatooine loves it´s skywalkers #and the Skywalkers love/hate it back

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 2: The Revelation

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: hella abandonment, angst, mention of deceased character, banter, fluff, self-doubt, lore-building, reference to enslavement, reference to life-threatening danger.

Summary: In the evening, as the four of you arrive at the shelter, Obi-Wan becomes curious about your past from this time of rest and conversation. While Anakin and Ahsoka conduct repairs the next morning, Obi-Wan decides to stay behind to find answers, his unclear intentions putting you on edge. What he discovers, however, will change his, Anakin's, and the Galaxy's future forever.

Song Inspo: Superwoman — Alicia Keys

Words: 7.2K (it's a big boi)

A/n: THANK YOUUU for the wonderful messages, likes, and reblogs. You’ve made my week! I'm planning on making a taglist so message me if you'd like to be on it. Was so excited to write this one for y’all. Keep your thoughts coming 🥹 Also, poor obi (we mess with him a lil’ in this one 😅)

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Series Masterlist

Sometimes a ‘mistake’ can end up being the best decision you’ve ever made — Mandy Hale

The journey to the shelter was tiring, but serene. Snow begun to fall a few hours into the trip, its accumulation gradually adding to the weight on your shoulders and boots. Yet you were distracted from the intensifying ache in every joint by the allure of nature’s frosty expanse. The beauty of each shimmering flake accented by the setting sun made you fall in love with Hoth all over again.

Oh, and that sunset. Its red and orange and yellow hues blended together in their final dance before dusk. A pleasant yet shocking contrast to the landscape’s muted whites and shaded grays.

Yes, it was challenging at times, and if you were truly honest with yourself, each moment felt like part of some long, never-ending trial. Everyday, the instant your skin met the chilly outdoors, you were perpetually on high alert. The wildlife was vicious and unpredictable, the terrain bare, the climate deadly.

But then, there were the majesties— the snowfall, the half-light shades, the way the light reflected off milky surfaces all around you. In moments like these, you felt deeply intertwined with the world, even though you’ve never really explored it. Yet despite your isolation, you’ve always found a way to make the most of it. You had a knack for manufacturing fun in the most bleak circumstances. But even that’s been hard to do in the last decade.

You missed him. You really did. And you wondered every second whether this would be the day he returned. Your friend, your mentor, your…

You couldn’t say it. Your heart ached boundlessly.

You’d tell him face-to-face once he returned. And you knew he’d return.

No matter how long he’d been away, sometimes months at a time, he would always bring you the most delectable treats from a place called Corellia. Sweet rolls, if you remember correctly. On the first day of visiting weeks, whether you were studying, training, or reading through old legends, the moment you heard the distant rumble of his shuttle’s engines, you took off sprinting. Up the ladder you’d go, holobooks thrown to the side in chaos, as you booked it to his favorite landing spot. You’d always forget your cloak, making your meeting with the freezing snow an unwelcome one. But you weren’t deterred, not even by the ship’s manufactured mini snow devils that swayed your stance and blinded your vision.

He was always quick to shut off the power before you reached him, opening the door to lightly reprimand you for getting too close to the ship when he was trying to land. But you had only one response.

“Did you bring the sweet rolls?”

And he would laugh, heartily. And reach into his robe to pull out the most mouthwatering fluffed sweet you’d ever seen. You’d grab it with a wide grin, biting your lip as you salivated before running back into the shelter. He’d smile gently at your retreating form. Not that you’ve ever seen it, but his fondness brimmed the air.

You’d wonder if he was reminiscing too, wherever he was. Maybe he was staring up at the same stars as you. Maybe he was on his way here at this very second.

“Y/n?”

Obi-Wan pulled you out of your fantasies with a gentle tap of the shoulder. You turned to him, continuing to walk alongside the man while Ahsoka and Anakin took their turn on Meetra. When you offered your spot to Obi-Wan an hour earlier, he declined, claiming he preferred to walk.

“Are we nearing the shelter? I don’t see any structures around us.” He questioned while observing his surroundings.

“Don’t worry,” you reassured. “It’s right up here.”

You took a few more steps, checking the distance for certain landmarks. The batch of ice caves to the Southeast stood about two kilometers from the small, folded ice mountains to the West. Yes, this looked right, you thought to yourself before kneeling to the ground.

The travelers watched you quizzically as you began to shovel away snow with your hands and arms, the sleet melting and soaking into your thick gloves. Anakin and Ahsoka demounted, inching closer to get a better look. After a few more labored scoops of hardened ice, a glimmer caught your eye. You cleared the sludge collecting around the metal panel, finding a handle, and pulling it up. The hatch fell open with a clang.

“I live beneath the surface.”

You pulled the sack off your back and dragged it in front of you, opening it slightly to grab a few tufts of lichen which you promptly tossed over to Meetra. She huffed contently, leaning over to enjoy her feast. After closing the bag and tossing it back over your shoulder, you shuffled to position yourself over the entryway ladder before beginning the climb down. One at a time, each traveler followed your descent.

—

Obi-Wan reached the bottom of the rickety ladder that swayed with each step before turning to take in the dimly lit shelter. He was amazed. The older Jedi soon realized that the entire structure was an old starship encased in thick ice and packed snow. There were stacks of holobooks, even some hard copy novels, scattered across the left wall around an old, tattered bunk. A built-in desk sat on the opposite side, a datapad lying neatly in the center. Most notably, colorful blankets with varying patterns, thickness, and textures were strewn throughout the cabin, some neatly folded and others stretched out like a Tooka cat. A large maroon curtain with reflective gold stitches and floral tones hung toward the far end, likely concealing a separate room. A table and two chairs stood in the nearby corner. Steel storage tins often used to store smaller items on starships were scattered against the walls, contents unknown.

“Your quarters are beautiful!” Ahsoka exclaimed as her feet met the floor.

She strolled right over to a particular forest green-based textile with honey-shaded swirls. The young Padawan lifted it, feeling the charming item between her fingers. “Where did you get all of these colorful fabrics?”

“I’m not sure. They were all gifts from a friend.”

Obi-Wan noticed your downcast expression as you turned away from the group, placing your bag on the desk.

Meanwhile, Anakin examined the shelter’s walls by the holobooks, similarly feeling the material with the pads of his fingers. He checked its thickness with a light knock.

“Huh,” he thought out loud, before turning toward the gracious host. “Is this a scouting vessel? It reminds me of something I’ve read about the old Duros vessels.”

Obi-Wan hid his astonishment, biting his tongue to hide a cheeky comment about Anakin’s reading escapades that seeped into his thoughts.

You turned back around, this time with a bright smile resting on your face. “Yes, it is! It’s been here long before I ever was.”

Anakin continued to pore over his surroundings, lightly crossing each arm.

“Do you know a lot about ancient vessels?” You inquired before opening the sack and pulling out a clump of… moss? You promptly examined it. “I’ve collected lots of information about them. It helps me understand this shelter better. You’ll probably find something about your ship in one of my holobooks, depending on its age.”

Obi-Wan watched as you finished your botanical observations, placing the moss on your desk.

“Thanks!” Anakin said, kneeling to inspect your collection. “Snips?” He motioned at Ahsoka who promptly joined him.

As the two searched for information about the shuttle from your extensive collection, Obi-Wan decided to try approaching you once more. He walked slowly, but confidently, warning you with his presence with a question.

“What is that?”

Your eyes grazed his briefly before returning your focus, pulling apart the mystery plant.

“This, is lichen.” You answered. “It needs time and space to defrost.”

You glanced at Obi-Wan who was slightly taken aback by the intensity of your unnaturally shimmering silver eyes staring deep into his, but he didn’t dare show it.

“Eat it before it’s fully defrosted and your stomach will not be happy.”

The older Jedi raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Duly noted.” He paused, combing over your words once more. “Is this what you’ve survived on during your time here?”

“Only recently.” You shook some ice dollops off a particularly shaggy clump of lichen. “I used to get rations and the occasional batch of medicinal goods, but that was many years ago.”

Obi-Wan’s head tilted. “Oh? What changed? Did cargo ships stop coming to Hoth?”

“No. Cargo ships had no reason to be here. The occasional group of hunters, sure. But as long as I’ve been here, I’ve never seen any working civilization that requested supplies.”

“So, who aided you?” He asked.

“A friend.”

He hummed, pulling at a strand of hair and twisting it with his fingers. Obi-Wan was intrigued by your vagueness, hoping to further inquire into your story and learn the details you seemed to openly avoid sharing.

“Here,” you tossed him a large clump of lichen.

He barely caught it against his chest in surprise, surveying you in delighted curiosity.

“Get to work,” you teased.

He smiled, pausing to watch you carefully before copying your actions with the frigid, crystallized vegetation. The olive-tinted herb felt rough beneath his fingers, and as he pulled it apart, he thought to himself.

There seemed to be more to you. Obi-Wan believed this largely in view of his past exposure to secluded beings. These encounters granted the bearded Jedi broad experience with aloof, nefarious, and aggressive personalities from pirates to wartime saboteurs. Yet his superficial impressions of your disposition— outward confidence and affable charisma— did not align with these assumptions.

That ushered him toward a new rationalization— you may not be here by choice. It could potentially explain your obscurity, Obi-Wan thought. Especially if you were being held here against your will, and feared your detainer. If he wanted to at least see if he could help, Obi-Wan would need to gather more information. It was the least he could do given the warmth you’ve shown three stranded Jedi, or who you thought were lost travelers.

“Found it!” Ahsoka yelled from behind Obi-Wan.

He finished tearing his last moss clod, leaving it on the desk before turning around.

“Emissary-class shuttle owner’s workshop manual.” She sighed with relief with a victorious beam as she shook the holobook in the air to make her point.

Obi-Wan watched as Anakin squinted at the media before turning to you quizzically. “Why do you have a holobook dedicated to obscure ancient manuals?”

“There isn’t much else to do as the sole sentient being on an ice planet,” you deadpanned.

Obi-Wan internally chuckled at your infallible logic.

Anakin seemed equally unimpressed. “Touché.”

Obi-Wan was shocked by how effectively a stranger dealt with Anakin’s lip. No argument, no snide remark from his former Padawan. Just, acceptance.

He gazed at you, really stared, hoping to get a stronger sense of your force. To better understand you. But when he concentrated on your life energy, he couldn’t find it. Despite the Force’s link to everything in the galaxy, it seemed that didn’t include you.

Maybe you were, in fact, a criminal. Extremely adept at hiding the truth. Obi-Wan thought it quite possible that he missed key indications of illicitness, thanks to this strangely dormant force signature within you. In that case, he would need to stay on guard. It would be unfortunate if the group of Jedi had to defend against an attempted robbery in addition to crash landing on a deserted ice planet, even if it was three to one. But it would be even more serious if this whole meeting was instead a larger Separatist ploy to isolate and trap two powerful generals. But Obi-Wan wouldn’t let that theory hold much water for long. He knew war had made him somewhat paranoid. Either way, the older Jedi found it necessary to learn more about you during this accidental detour to Hoth.

You interrupted the silence before he could continue his analysis.

“There will be plenty of time to read the manual in the morning.” You advised. “I recommend you all sleep soon. The shelter keeps us warmer underground, but the temperature will still drop drastically soon. It’s best to sleep through it.”

Obi-Wan was warmed by your compassion. “Thank you for your concern.”

He turned to his former Padawan with a knowing look. It was doubtful that Anakin would follow your instructions, he thought. But it’s still better to be polite. At least Obi-Wan certainly knew from the pull of his eyelids and the discomfort in his knees that he would accept your guidance. Even if you were a criminal, it was nearly impossible to steal from a Jedi, even during sleep.

“We will take your advice.”

“Feel free to use the various linens. The bunk is also open to you. Good night.”

Obi-Wan watched as you turned on your heel and walked toward the curtains behind you, disappearing behind them.

He stared at the shimmering, dark red screen that separated the two of you. His conclusion was that you were an enigma, and Obi-Wan found that fascinating. His curiosity was always piqued by the unknown, which would drive his exploratory mind. There seemed to be so much more to you, but he could only scratch the surface. Your intelligence, kindness, and resourcefulness reminded him of great leaders’ and soldiers’ personalities. And yet, here you were, a solitudinarian on a distant planet in the Outer Rim, spending your days reading old holobooks or collecting moss. More and more, he doubted that you had any unlawful connections. But there was still surely more to your story.

He needed to learn who you were, how you got here, and the identity of this mysterious friend, hoping that these answers assured you were here by choice. As a Jedi, however, he was primarily obligated to discover why he failed to register your life force. He wished, no, he found it imperative to solve this mystery before departing from the planet. Though he also hoped to respect your privacy, not prod into your being and mind when you were winding down to rest. Obi-Wan hoped to avoid that altogether unless absolutely necessary. He was The Negotiator after all, and he knew well that gathering information through a conversation rather than prying at your mind would lead to more trust and a clearer picture in the long run.

Obi-Wan’s ears caught shuffling behind him. He twisted to watch Ahsoka collect a few fabrics across the floor while Anakin hunkered down around the holobooks with a few nearby blankets. Obi-Wan snapped a mental image of the scene. He doubted he would ever again have the rare privilege to glimpse at Anakin and a pile of holobooks so intimately collected with brows dipped in concentration. He was clearly desperate to leave this planet, a cold twin to Tatooine. The moment they landed, Obi-Wan was sure that in the back of Anakin’s mind, he was struggling with his memories as a slave boy. This detour was too much of a reminder. Manuals and shuttle specs seemed to serve as his distraction, but he knew it wasn’t enough.

The older Jedi too began to prepare for night, strolling over to the empty cot. He sat in the center, elbows digging into each knee as he rested his chin on the backs of his fingers. For the first time in weeks, Obi-Wan felt comfortable, safe even. There was no last-minute mission, no sleeping on a battlefield, no late-night reports. And it was quiet, peaceful. He scanned the shelter once more, thinking he might get the best sleep he’s had in months.

And he was right.

—

You woke slowly, gently granting your mind room to register its consciousness. Your limbs stirred, testing the width of your linens. In time, each eye relaxed open. Stretching both arms, you sat up, settling into reality as you observed your comfy surroundings in dull lighting. Your bed was soft beneath you with four layers of blankets weighing your form down in its warmth. All that fit in the pilot’s cabin was your bed with limited walking room, but you enjoyed the small space with its elevated concentration of heat and bare walls.

The exhaustion and excitement of yesterday’s trek slowed your morning routine. Your thighs ached from the hours traveling with Meetra, and the detour didn’t help. Glancing at your damp gear sprawled on the floor, you determined it would be at least another couple of hours until your boots, gloves, and fur cloak had dried. You fell back into the mattress with a sigh, bouncing slightly at the impact. You would have been happy to rest for a few more hours. But the moment your head hit the pillow, you knew there was too much to do to lie around. Primarily, addressing the three travelers in the main cabin.

You threw your legs off the bed’s side and pushed yourself off to stand, tossing on a thinner cloak that hung next to you before drawing back the curtains in a slight stumble. Perhaps you should have taken more time to wake.

“Good morning.”

You looked up at Obi-Wan who sat comfortably at your table, legs folded and Holobook in hand.

“Mornin’.” You replied with a smile.

With a stronger gate, you sauntered toward the pile of lichen that had defrosted overnight. A ravenous ache pulled at your stomach as you reached the desk to determine its digestibility. In that moment, you realized you’d forgotten to have supper, and now you were suffering the consequences. Nevertheless, A quick test of the lichen’s plasticity between your index finger and thumb brought out its slimy texture. Perfect. Breakfast was soon to be served.

You briefly glanced back at Obi-Wan. He seemed engrossed in the text before him. “I’m glad you’re enjoying my collection.”

“You have more holobooks of The Old Republic legends than I’ve ever known any one individual to own.” He exclaimed, eyes glued to the screen.

“They’re my favorite stories.”

You leaned over beside the desk to reach into a storage box, pulling out a pair of plates and a couple forks. While in the middle of placing them on the desk, you suddenly recalled exactly who those stories were about.

“Sleep well?” You quickly interjected. The slight pause turned your head. Obi-Wan looked as if he was about to sneeze right at you, but it was more likely that you’d interrupted him mid-thought with your change in topic.

Seemingly disappointed, he readjusted, rolling his shoulders and returning to his story.

“Yes, I did.”

You began to line the plates with lichen. “You and your companions are welcome to my facilities. There’s a trapdoor behind the curtain that will lead you there.”

His features lightened once more. “I’m quite alright.”

Obi-Wan rotated, this time fully facing you in his seat, uncrossing his legs with a hand loosely holding the holobook to the side. “Are you usually this kind to strange travelers?”

Having finished plating the lichen, you picked up both dishes, making your way over to Obi-Wan.

“Only the charming ones.” You winked as you placed breakfast on the table.

Obi-Wan chuckled at your whit, but couldn’t hide the light blush that grazed his cheeks. He quickly buried his face back into the holobook, but you wouldn’t make it that easy.

“Where did everyone go?” You asked.

You used your fork to stick then toss a clump of lichen in your mouth. Its musty tang perfumed your senses, leaving a bitter aftertaste as it slipped along your tongue.

He examined the food before him curiously, picking up a fork to test its consistency.

“They went to fix the shuttle. Anakin stayed up all night reading that manual of yours then departed early this morning with Ahsoka.” He lifted a small piece and took an experimental bite.

“Where does he find the energy?” You exclaimed as you observed him struggle to swallow politely. You tried to hide your faint giggle with a cough.

He shrugged. “Only the Maker knows.”

The cabin echoed with the light clinking of your fork and plate as you continued to eat. “So why are you here?”

Obi-Wan eyed you pointedly. “I enjoy your company far more.”

Despite his confident demeanor, you sensed his intentions reached far beyond his outward manner. It didn’t feel malicious at all. Just, different. As if courtesy and inquisitiveness were not his only motivations.

Your imagination must be getting the best of you, you thought, brushing off your concerns fairly quickly. The man didn’t look like he could hurt a Saccorian grain fly. It was easy to assume that strangers on Hoth had ulterior motives, largely due to your many dealings with pirates and hunters in the last few years. Yet you continued to help them when you crossed paths, even though you were often betrayed. Whether that meant a robbery attempt or something more nefarious. But no matter the threat, no stranger on Hoth has ever posed much danger to you. This wouldn’t be very different.

“Do you say that to all the singular planetary beings you meet?” You teased.

He relaxed into a gentle smirk, returning to the holobook confidently. “Only the kind-hearted ones.”

You beamed at his charm.

Yet, concern still tugged at the back of your mind. He still seemed to be hiding something.

“So how did you come to Hoth?” He inquired.

You struggled internally for a moment as you examined the man. There was no cloud covering that statement, no alternative meaning. It appeared he hoped to understand you better out of pure curiosity, and not for any personal gain.

But why? Why not aid his companions to hasten their escape from this icy trap? Because your company was so pleasant? No, something wasn’t adding up. You must have been reading him wrong. Best to keep it vague. To stay safe, and keep your promise.

“I was brought here when I was young. There are some dangerous people who aren’t my biggest fan.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrow lifted as he watched you carefully. “Dangerous people? What did you do?”

You grinned, finding his overly troubled demeanor for the safety of a stranger endearing.

“Nothing yet. They just don’t like the idea of what I might do because of an old story.”

Obi-Wan nodded, unconvinced. “And I assume your friend brought you here.”

“Yes, he understood my background and brought me here to train.”

Obi-Wan perked up, raising his eyebrows. “To train you?” He questioned, staring intently.

His interest was beginning to concern you. It was time for you to be more cautious when formulating responses.

“To protect myself.”

“Ah,” he nodded, but a hair dissatisfied. “What is he like?” He leaned back again with the holobook, as if pretending to be less interested. “You friend.”

“Well,” you thought for a moment. “I suppose he’s more like a mentor.”

His eyes shot up, and you hesitated once more. Obi-Wan must have noticed as he conveyed an encouraging smile, motioning for you to continue while returning to his story.

You sighed, looking up at the ceiling, your lichen long forgotten as you tried to picture him. You endeavored to visualize your memories on the cold, rounded metal hull above.

“He’s wise, soft-spoken, the kindest man you’d ever meet.” You emphasized. “He always makes sure I’m focusing on the here and now.”

You paused.

“Sometimes I’d put the weight of the world on my shoulders and he would always knock me down a peg.” A laugh escaped you, head falling in mirth.

Obi-Wan’s warm eyes glistened as you calmed. You took a moment to ruminate further, returning your gaze upwards, nose wrinkling.

“I-“ you paused as a wave of sadness washed over you. “I miss him.”

You looked back down at Obi-Wan. A swirl of emotions played on his face. Sympathy, mostly, but an air of curiosity seemed to bubble underneath.

“He sounds lovely.”

His words felt authentic, but the battle within Obi-Wan that danced so clearly around him was hard to ignore. You were beginning to question your delicate trust in the man. The many questions with veiled intent suggested that he may know your true identity. And if he avoided asking you directly, it could point to dark motives, or a malicious plan.

His highly inquisitive behavior up to this point had subconsciously fueled your anxiety. Your suspicions could no longer be shunned. Despite hoping to steer clear of invading the privacy of these travelers, it seemed that you had no choice. You needed to know more. For your own sake, if not for your mentor’s. He told you to stay safe, and you weren’t going to break that promise. Avoiding scrutinizing this group’s true intentions was too much of a risk to that.

His eyes were still set on you, so you returned the favor. You stared deeply into his gaze, preparing to investigate the roots of his being, until you saw it. In the reflection of his eyes, something strange sparkled. You refocused your vision on his retinas, a crease forming on your forehead. And what you saw felt like lighting to your core.

You launched from your chair, knocking it over as you stumbled a few steps away from the stranger, mouth hung open and eyes wide.

“Who are you?” You asked firmly, making each vowel distinct.

You felt tricked, made a fool. You let your guard down a few times in these many years of caution, but this time would be terribly different. This wasn’t the average hunter or trader. This was an entirely different animal. And you were about to pay the price of this mistake with your life. Unless, you did something quick.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, seemed perplexed at your sudden change. He watched you with concern.

“Are you alright?” He acted carefully. “Did I say something wrong?”

But this time, you refused to believe his seemingly empty words. “No more games.”

He slowly stood with his hands up as if surrendering while your backward creep accelerated.

“Who are you?! How did you find me?!” Your patience was wearing thin.

Obi-Wan took a wary step forward, hands remaining lifted. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Another step.

“Could you explain?”

You felt the curtain brush against the pads of your fingers as you finally reached it. His continued steady approach had you feeling cornered. It was time to act now. You slipped your right hand behind the divide, feeling the wall for your hanging weapon while keeping your sight trained on Obi-Wan.

Finally, you felt the cold metal hilt. You wrapped your fingers around it and held it tight, keeping it trained behind the curtain.

“I’m warning you…”

He took another step forward.

There was no longer a choice. You activated and thrust your lightsaber in front of you, its gray hue created a pocket of hot light in the shelter between the two of you. Its tip hung inches from his chest.

“Not. Another. Step.” You warned rigidly.

—

Obi-Wan’s mind was racing. New thoughts and questions stumbled over each other in an endless stampede of disorientation.

Hours ago, he advised Anakin and Ahsoka to attempt shuttle repairs without him for the chance to discover your truth. He was convinced now that you were no thief. The older Jedi checked his pockets and lightsaber to ensure everything was in place when he awoke at daybreak. It would have been the best opportunity to strike, and yet, you didn’t take it.

Obi-Wan’s priorities centered. He needed to understand why your life force was unreadable, why your presence on this planet was shrouded in mystery, and why a person who seemed so dedicated to others chose to live in isolation, assuming you had any say in the matter.

When he explored your collections this morning, Obi-Wan was intrigued by the sheer number of Old Republic Jedi tales included. He found it especially telling when you claimed they were your favorite, but lost the opportunity to probe that declaration further.

Regardless of this small success, Obi-Wan’s efforts to connect with your signal proved fruitless. As the breakfast conversation continued, he tried to explore the space around and within you. But still, he felt, nothing. No matter how deeply he engrained himself into the Force, he could not glean one iota of life from you. It obfuscated his mind with theories as he struggled to rationalize this anomaly, but not one postulation had real merit.

So, he switched tactics, relying on his talents as a master negotiator. Yet even then, he perceived little progress. Obi-Wan did gain ground when he learned why you’ve spent so many years alone on Hoth. He was interested, yet bothered, by the possible threat to your life, wondering how a being so harmless could attract such dangers. Such conclusions opened the door to more inquiries.

But then, he learned about your ‘friend.’ How he taught you self-defense and emanated qualities of insight, thoughtfulness, and tranquility— all characteristics that were highly familiar to the Jedi. He reasoned, no, hoped that his suspicions were correct. That he knew this unidentified man. But just when he was about to pose that quintessential query, something went exceptionally wrong.

Now he stood very cautiously, hoping to de-escalate this rapidly spiraling situation.

At least one question had been answered. He finally felt a strong force signature within you, like water through a collapsed dam. And if all was calm, he may have even asked you how you were able to so completely conceal your energy readings.

But now, there were many, far more pressing inquiries that mandated answers, he thought, as he stared down the blade of a Gray Jedi.

“Y/n.” Obi-Wan soothed, dropping his arms beside him. “I promise I will not harm you. And I will respond to any questions you may have about who we are. But I must ask you something very important first.” He watched you closely for any change, but all he could feel was frustrated suspicion radiating off your figure.

“First, you tell me who you really are.” You demanded.

“I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Jedi. We are tasked with preserving peace in the galaxy.” He explained, clasping his hands behind him.

“You’re a Jedi?” You questioned, the lightsaber’s point faltering slightly.

“Yes,” he continued in a calm, clear tone. “Y/n, I must know the name of your friend.”

You hesitated, causing his eyes to soften. Whatever he did to scare you profoundly triggered deep regret within him. He hoped to regain the trust of a possibly abandoned Jedi, especially if his speculations proved true.

“Please.” He breathed.

You loosened ever so slightly. “His name is Qui-Gon Jinn.”

Even though he somewhat surmised this truth, Obi-Wan was still taken aback. He took a step away, turning from you as he tried to wipe off the shock pooling around his parted lips. He sensed you further lower your lightsaber in confusion, now aiming it at the ground.

Obi-Wan breathed deeply as he reminisced about his former master. He remembers the many times throughout the years in which Qui-Gon disappeared without informing him or The Council of his travels. He always thought it was just his Master’s nature. His independence and desire to make his own path shine through. Little did Obi-Wan know, Qui-Gon Jinn was raising and training a new Padawan in secret. Yet still, some young piece of Obi-Wan was not surprised. This certainly seemed like something his old Master would do.

He turned back to you, a wistful expression poking through his racing thoughts. “Qui-Gon Jinn was my master.”

He watched as you deactivated your saber, letting your arm fall to the side at this revelation. Your lips slightly parted, eyes searching the older Jedi for any possible mistake before reluctantly settling into the truth. “Was?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “He died ten years ago fighting the Sith on Naboo.”

Horror invaded your features. Waves of sadness and despair poured out of your being as you gently staggered to a nearby wall, steadying against it with your head hanging between your arms. Obi-Wan’s heart dropped, knowing all too well how you felt. He swiftly moved behind you, gently squeezing your shoulder.

“I’m so very sorry,” he whispered into your ear.

Obi-Wan felt your shoulder rise and fall as long, shaky breaths filled the air. He couldn’t imagine not only losing your Master, but likely the only other being you’ve truly known. The blue-eyed Jedi realized your world was crashing down before you.

But somehow, after only a few moments, your breathing stabilized. Slowly, you stood up straight, removing your hands from the wall to turn to him. Deep roots of sorrow controlled your features, your face loosely stained with a few stray tears. Removing his hand from your shoulder, he watched you with anticipation.

“I think he told me about you.” Your eyes tethered to the ground.

Obi-Wan felt a morsel of hope tug at his chest as he watched you sympathetically. The possibility of learning something new about his former Master was tantalizing. After so many meditation sessions in which he failed to connect with Qui-Gon’s spirit, this could be his chance to feel tethered to his Master one last time.

“He told me that you worried too much.” A reminiscing smile graced your lips.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, relaxing shoulders he didn’t realize were tense. “That sounds like Master Jinn.”

Your sparkling, silver eyes met his intensely. "It's not how it sounds. It was his way of building my confidence."

Your sudden beam at the memory left Obi-Wan in awe of your strength. Your gaze trailed to your holobook collection.

“I read all these stories of amazingly powerful Jedi who seemed invincible in the face of the most dire odds.” He watched you motion to the piles of knowledge. “I never felt like I could quite live up to their memory, but Qui-Gon was always sure to remind me that like all great Jedi.” You paused to send him a lighthearted smirk through dejected eyes. “Including his Padawan, I had no need to worry. The Force would help me grow into the Jedi I’m meant to be.” Sincerity seeped from your words.

Obi-Wan felt as if the hole in his heart punctured at Naboo ten years ago just experienced its first stitch. To find another piece of Qui-Gon, another connection to him, was a dream made reality. Not just by words he never heard him say, but through you, his secret Padawan.

Although there was still much for him to learn, he already found you to be one of the more idyllic Jedi he’s met. Not only in your strong connection to the Force, but from your person. The fortitude, compassion, and honesty you’ve shown in only a day is an example often demonstrated to initiates. That thought brought him back to a question he needed answered.

“But why?” Obi-Wan exclaimed to no one in particular. He turned on his heel to pace in thought, a hand gently resting below his chin. “Why did Qui-Gon bring you here? Allow you to live your days in isolation?” He spun back around, now directing his thoughts at you. “Who was he hiding you from that The Order could not face? Did he even tell The Council?”

You sighed, your eyes falling down to your hands where you gently circled your thumb into your palm. “He hid me from the world, and The Council, because of the prophecy.”

Obi-Wan cocked his head. A prophecy? Another prophecy?

“What prophecy?”

You looked off into the distance. And while your vision was limited by the small confines of an ancient ship buried underground, Obi-Wan thought your eyes were taking you quadrants away. Then, you faced him.

“You should probably sit down.”

He followed the guidance of your hand as it lifted to lead the way back toward the table. The sound of wooden chairs slightly scratching across rusted metal colored the sudden stillness. Obi-Wan settled, glancing at you only to notice your eyes glued to the peeling Japor ivory below. Your finger graced a discolored patch with interest. Obi-Wan waited patiently, hands clasped before him, your hesitation driving his curiosity through the hull.

You raised your vision. “The prophecy tells of a protector, a guide, known as The Guardian. It tells of a Jedi to be discovered and trained outside of The Order.”

“A Gray Jedi...” Obi-Wan mused aloud.

“Yes.” You confirmed.

Obi-Wan’s mind circled through your words. “And who does The Guardian protect?”

“The Chosen One. The Guardian must do whatever is necessary to stand between the Sith and The Chosen One so that they may return balance to the Force.” You explained.

Obi-Wan watched as you peeked at him, a sudden amusement dancing upon your lashes.

“It certainly puts a target on my back for anyone who doesn’t want that to happen.” You chuckled.

Obi-Wan sent you a thin look of disapproval at your dark joke before returning to his thoughts. In all his research about The Chosen One when preparing to be Anakin’s Master, he not once saw mention of The Guardian.

Obi-Wan’s brows furrowed. “I’ve never heard of this.” He admitted quietly.

“Few have. Qui-Gon discovered the legend by chance in the Holocron Vault when he was retrieving something for his Master. I think he said it was part of the Jedi Archives at The Temple, but you’d know better than me.”

“You’re correct.” He confirmed.

You nodded gratefully. “Anyways, from what I understand, The Council feared this aspect of The Chosen One’s prophecy because of its transparent separation from The Order. So they hid it away.”

Obi-Wan took a moment to gather his thoughts. The ramifications of your words were astounding. Another entity, willed into existence by the Force, with the purpose of aiding Anakin on his journey. In a sense, he felt relieved, like a burden lifted from his conscience. Qui-Gon was supposed to train Anakin, but when he passed, the duty fell to him. He never really felt ready, stumbling through ways to guide the young Jedi when he himself had only just become a Knight. But it seems as if the Force works in mysterious ways.

He was equally disturbed by the prophesy’s wording. If a Guardian was needed to protect The Chosen One from the Sith, it suggested that Anakin’s fate was not sealed on the side of the light. And that terrified him. Anakin always struggled with his place within The Order, and while he was very proud of the man he’s grown into, he knew that Anakin still grappled with his intense fears and deep-seated anger.

“I need to know.”

Obi-Wan returned from his thoughts, motioning for you to continue. You watched him for a moment. Obi-Wan could see the gears turn through complicated maneuvers in your head. Then, determination settled on your face.

“Are you The Chosen One?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, not me.”

He noticed your brows crease in confusion. Quickly, the older Jedi played over the morning’s events. His mind centered on what started this conversation in the first place.

“Is that why you were afraid?”

You shot him a questioning look. “I was not afraid, I was shocked.” You staunchly defended, erupting within him a subtle sense of amusement.

But the sudden downcast of your eyes changed his tune.

“I thought you were a Sith.” You candidly explained.

This time it was Obi-Wan’s turn for shock to contort his features. “A Sith?! Whatever gave you that idea?”

“It’s the beard.” You said stone-eyed, pretending to scratch phantom whiskers on your face with an embellishing movement of the fingers.

Obi-Wan nearly choked on air.

You burst out laughing, holding your stomach for good measure. Obi-Wan, however, was unimpressed with your antics.

He leaned back, crossing his arms as an exceedingly light smile garnished his feigned displeasure. “Very funny.”

Your cackle died down before you seemed to relax back into the gravity of the situation.

“In all seriousness,” you began, taking a moment to compose yourself. “When I looked into your eyes, I saw the reflection of my own, and they were silver.”

“And?” Obi-Wan questioned, not seeing the point of her observation.

“Obi-Wan.” You sighed, glancing down at your hands, which you now had clasped together on the table before you.

You raised your head, staring into his gaze once more. And to Obi-Wan, it felt as if you were gazing into his soul.

“My eyes are y/e/c.”

The older Jedi’s jaw fell open as his eyebrows raised. He was dumbfounded, not understanding how that was possible. The first thing he noticed when he met you at the crash site was your extraordinarily bright, silver eyes.

“The legend says, that when The Guardian’s journey begins, it will initiate their transformation. Their eyes will begin to shine the color of their fate.”

Obi-Wan hummed. “And how does that journey begin?”

“By meeting someone tied to their fate.”

Then, it clicked. “Ah, a Sith or The Chosen One.”

“Exactly.”

A hush washed over the two of you as Obi-Wan considered the connotation of your eyes. The two passionate orbs that dotted your face shined a color with deep meaning.

“And your eyes are silver. The color of balance, purity, peace.” He mused, a hand lightly stroking his cheek in contemplation.

“Which hopefully reflects the future.” You countered.

Obi-Wan’s eyes sparkled almost as bright as yours. “A hope we share.”

However, once more, his countenance was shrouded in rumination at a discrepancy.

“But your lightsaber is gray.”

He noticed the corner of your eyes crinkle. “My journey has just begun.”

Obi-Wan matched your expression. “Of course, and was Qui-Gon able to prepare you before…” he trailed off.

You exhaled. “He taught me everything I know, but I must admit, most of my saber and force training was advanced through The Muntuur in the last years.”

Intrigue gripped Obi-Wan, edging him to lean toward you, hands gliding along the table. “The Muntuur?”

“An ancient Jedi training gadget Qui-Gon found abandoned on a distant planet. He never told me where.”

“Interesting.” Obi-Wan mused. “I’d like to analyze this device, if that is alright with you.”

“That’s fine. But first, I must know.” You watched him keenly. “Who is The Chosen One?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to answer when a light thud sounded behind him, followed by a ripple of frosty wind against the back of his neck.

“Y/n, I could hug you!” Obi-Wan heard. He turned in time to see Anakin jump down the shelter’s entrance with a wide grin, avoiding the ladder completely in his excitement. Ahsoka made a similar entrance, her lips quirked up.

“That manual was detailed enough for me to salvage secondary parts from other sectors of the shuttle in the repairs! Who knew that bucket of bolts had so many adaptable segments? Had to use every single one.”

Anakin froze mid-saunter, a meager speechlessness overcoming him as he seemed to register the humorless faces watching him from the table, including his former Master who was particularly annoyed. Obi-Wan watched the young Jedi rub his hands together, partly from the freezing outdoors but mostly, it seemed, in an attempt to cut the tension.

“Am I interrupting something?” He chuckled nervously.

Obi-Wan spoke. “Anakin, we need to talk.”

“Is he…”

“Yes.” He finished your thought, glancing back at you to glean your reaction to that sudden divulgence.

“Wow.” You mumbled before sending Anakin an earnest look.

“You should probably sit down.”

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[undertheorangetree]

Duel of the Fates

Chapter One- Dalna

Summary- The galaxy has a way of ensuring a force dyad finds one another.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Female Reader. Giant lizards. Dead parents. Kidnapping. Violence through physicality and the force. Restraints in a non sexy way. Arguably heavy exposition and worldbuilding.

Author’s Note- This first chapter is a little bit dark so PLZ READ THE WARNINGS.

dividers by firefly-graphics

The force has been with her since the day she drew breath and it will be with her until the day she dies.

She has felt it surrounding her for as long as she can remember, like a comforting summer breeze forever caressing her skin, cool water flowing through a spring. She can feel it all around her, thrumming inside her just beneath the skin. She has never feared it as it is a part of her, a gift bestowed upon her by the galaxy. Though she knows it is dangerous to be born with the force in the years since the reign of Emperor Maegor the Cruel, it has never been something that filled her with fear. In fact, she loves her gift fiercely, loves the way it connected her to the galaxy and those who live within it.

There was one connection, however, that she could do without.

She has seen him for as long as she can remember. At first, he only came to her in dreams, the edges hazy and images near blurred. He had been little more than a boy then. A wealthy one, if the palaces he lived in were any indication, on a heavily populated planet like Corellia or Coruscant, but young, just as she had been. Though he seemed to have everything he could ever want, she could still feel his sadness through their bond, the loneliness that radiated from him. She had longed to comfort him in the beginning but that sadness had quickly turned to rage, festering into a hate so white hot she had done all she could to shut down their bond for her own sake, lest she allow it to corrupt her. That hate only grew worse when he was injured. Though she doesn't know what happened to him, she still felt the pain burning through his face, a pain that has continues even now.

She knows his power too, as intimately as she knows her own. But where the force lives in her as a balm, it rages inside him like a storm. It fights under his skin with all the strength of a krayt dragon, begging to be unleashed, to wreak havoc.

She felt him fall to the dark side not long after his injury and though she expected their bond to break, it only seems to have grown stronger. She sees him now even when waking, whenever she allows her mind to become too idle, and knows he sees her too. It is as if she can feel him, sitting just behind her eyes, watching her every move. It sends a chill up her spine whenever she feels him but no matter how often she tries to push him out, close herself off to that side of the force, he finds a way to sneak back in.

There is a pull she feels toward him, that bond keeping them tied no matter how desperately she wishes it wouldn’t, but the force has connected them. And who was she to understand the ways of the force?

Even now, as she pilots her speeder bike through the backroads of the Dalnan capital, she can see him. Through his eyes she can see the blank emptiness of space staring back at him through a bay window, a million bright stars the only light for Maker knows how far. Whatever ship he's on has not quite reached lightspeed yet but she is sure it isn't far off with how quickly everything runs past him. He doesn't say a word, standing in stoic silence as he watches the galaxy pass him by, but he knows she's there. Before, when they were young, he might have said something, informed her that he knew she was watching, but enough time has passed that they are now able to exist as an unwelcome voyeur inside the other's mind. The only hint he offers her concerning her presence is a slight shift in his posture as he stands up straighter, chin tipping back. It's a habit of his, she's noticed. A way he attempts to command power.

She blinks, shaking her head lightly and he is gone, disappearing with the space that surrounds him, and refocuses her attention on the road before her.

Read the rest here :)

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